#And emphatically complain about 'the good old days'

[lordofthestrix]

Is the slow death of cursive an ongoing phenomenon that I somehow failed to notice until now?

Today I had to handwrite some instructions to a recently of age 'youngster' and I can swear that he looked at me as if I had handled him Egyptian script before the discovery of the Rosetta stone.

[lumenflowered]

[A video is attached. Maria is close to the summit of Mt. Silver, trudging through ice and snow. It's difficult to tell, given that the cameramon is behind her, but she doesn't seem particularly pleased about how cold it is.

(If the barely-perceptible shaking of the camera is any indication, Ade isn't enjoying the cold either.)

But they're there, at last—and for all that the weather is visibly very cold by Johto standards, it's at least a fairly clear day. It's clear enough that a figure can be seen, standing at the summit, waiting for them.

At a glance, Red appears to be a traveling trainer like any other. Red hat, red vest zipped up against the cold, though if his bare arms are any indication it bothers him far less than it does anyone else. Well-worn jeans.

The Pikachu perched upon one shoulder, watching them as well, doesn't seem all that bothered by the cold either.

"You must be Red," Maria calls, coming to a stop before him. "Hello. My name is Maria. It's nice to meet you at last."

Red says nothing. The look on his face is unreadable. But, slowly—not taking his eyes off of her—he gives her the very smallest of nods.

"I'm, well... I currently hold your old position," Maria continues, when it becomes clear that Red is in fact quieter than her. "I don't know how much you've heard about me from Blue, but I wouldn't be... particularly surprised if he had complained about me at some point?"

There's a hummed acknowledgment, and a raised eyebrow.

"Blue sends his best," Maria says. "There was an accident at the Viridian Gym—he is recovering, but he isn't in any state to climb a mountain at the moment. Which is why I was sent instead. I, ah... did my best to locate everything he normally brings you?"

Maria does not normally carry a particularly large bag. The backpack she is wearing does not look to be her style, but she takes it off, opening it and withdrawing a reasonably bulky package.

"This is for you," she says, holding the package out.

Red makes no move to take it, and so Maria eventually sets it down, shrugging off her backpack as well.

"If you'd like me to simply go," Maria continues, "I can do so. But I'll admit some curiosity with regard to you. I don't suppose you would be open to a battle?"

The boy on the mountain... hesitates. There's something strange in his eyes now, something that looks almost like fear for the very briefest of moments. But surely that isn't right?

Whatever it is, it disappears as Red reaches up a hand to scratch his Pikachu behind the ears, as trainer and Pokémon exchange a long, wordless look.

Red nods. His Pikachu rubs up against the side of his trainer's face affectionately, then leaps down into the snow, taking up a remarkably intimidating battling stance for what is otherwise a very small yellow rodent.

"...I will take that as a yes," Maria says. "I assume you'd rather not do a full battle, considering how remote a location this is—"

There's an emphatic headshake to that, as Red clears his throat.

"Full battle, then?" Maria seems surprised. "If you're certain... I suppose Blue did likely tell me to be well-supplied on Pokémon medicine for good reason."

Red nods. The Pikachu lets out an impatient little squeak, cheeks already sparking a little.

"Very well." Maria turns toward the camera, withdrawing a Pokéball. "Before we begin, do you particularly mind if I record our battle?"

What she gets in return is a very noncommittal shrug. Seems Red doesn't mind, though he hasn't taken his eyes off of her since she arrived—and neither, for that matter, has his Pikachu.

"Excellent. Ade, would you mind propping the Pokégear up over there? I'm afraid I will be needing you for a full battle."

Ade giggles, and the video cuts out.]

[gav-san]

THE QUEEN OF THE KING 13/15

Previous/Next

You wake early, the cool air chilling your lungs every time a gust of wind blows in. You rub your eyes, wanting to complain to your maid about the horrendous habit she had of leaving the window open. 

Only to be met by a booming voice that is decidedly not any of your maids.

“Welcome to the waking world, my little moon!”

You yelp, jarring fully up as a large bronze figure hops through the doorway.

“What on earth- Get-you-“ Your ramble of words is a mess, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Your words trail into nothing as you realize that he has brought a guest. And he doesn’t waste time tossing it down to the floor.

You gasp in terror at the sight of a huge gapping mouth filled with razor-sharp fangs, scrambling back to the cave wall. 

“What are you doing!” You cry out in alarm, clutching a thick blanket over your silky Gerudo nightdress. 

“My little princess, rest now. We have a long journey, and you will need all your strength! I’ll make us breakfast of this creature who thought to take our sacred cave!” He says, giving a large grin that you don’t return. 

You don’t even say a word, and his smile fades a bit.

“Well, no use in wasting the day!” He covers for himself, turning and taking a large, bloody knife from his belt. “I’ll make a fine coat and boots for you!” He regains his jaunty tone as he talks on, cutting and doing whatever he thinks he has to do. “You’ll need them for the long walk to Gerudo Town!”

“Gerudo?” You say, mouth open, brows pulling together. “Town?”

The Gerudo King’s head pops up at your words, and you wince as you notice the blood sprinkles on his face. 

“Yes! I think you’ll love my town.” He says, gently putting down his knife. “She suffers through her desert heat and cold, but she is a palace built on dunes and dreams. She reminds me of you.” He says in a voice that’s all too fond.

You clear your throat. 

“As fond as I am watching you skin a bear, or comparing me to your home, I want to state, emphatically, that I am not fond of this situation.”

The Gerudo King blinks, eyes wide.

“Would you prefer deer? Or a rabbit?” He asks, genuinely perplexed.

“Good Goddesses.” You say, putting a finger to your forehead. “You can’t think that-”

He looks at you wide-eyed, eager to hear your every word.

You clear your throat, rubbing your brow.

“Lord Gerudo King-“ You say as formally as you can, wearing a slinky Gerudo nightgown, huddled in a Cave with a man who had not only kidnapped you but who was also skinning a bear in an uncomfortably cheerful manner. 

“Call me Ganondorf. Or Ganon.” He says, merrily. “Or Lord husband, or darling, or husband, or-“

“Gerudo King.” You are so annoyed, standing. So much so that you blurt out the first thing you want to say. “I demand you return me to the Hyrulian castle!”

You look at him, your mouth agape, and his expression frozen. 

And for a moment you just stare at one another. 

Whatever you have been expecting, it’s not the burst of laughter that explodes from him.

Aghast you continue to watch him as his great booming voice fills the cave. You lean back, large hands on his thighs, thick fingers covering his knees. And he laughs like you have told him the wittiest comeback of your life.

“My Wife!” He says, only to fall into chuckles. “How could I even think of returning you to a castle that has tossed you out like old scraps?” You grit your teeth when he continues. “Surely you don’t think there is a better, safer place for you than by my side? 

“I am not your queen. And this is simply… a miscommunication. You can’t think I would be a good Gerudo Queen.”

He picks up his knife again, putting it do to the thick fur. 

“I think you will be an exception King’s Wife.” He says, without the smallest sense of shame. “And not to brag, but I have many experiences with knowing the character of women.” He ends rather drily, eyeing the pelt.

For some reason, a fiery pang shoots through you. Something you find unfamiliar but unmistakable.

You are jealous.

You take a deep breath in and very conscientiously do your best to ignore the fact that the man before you has spent his entire life next to buxom, lovely warriors who could match his fierceness and grit. You had found much to admire about the women and occasions you wondered fondly what it what be like to be one. To be free.

But you had always guarded your position gladly.

But to be jealous?

You unintentionally huff, causing his head to snap up.

“Oh?” He says at your unintentional reaction. “My darling. What is that face for?” 

You suck in a breath, thoroughly irritated. 

“I am just a little upset that anyone conveniently forgot to inform me that I would be kidnapped!”

“It is an unfortunate tradition. Much like how most spare Hyrulian princesses get married to help their kingdom.” He replied, and for a moment, you steel yourself.

“So you think that kidnapping and calling me queen will give you and Hyrule any peace?” You hiss.

He gives a warm grin.

“Not exactly a Queen, if we are to be technical. You are the King’s Wife, a King’s Queen. Not that it’s hugely different, but there is one.”

You fold your arms, sitting, huffing again. 

“I like it when you do that.” He says, returning to his work. You raise a brow.

“Pardon?”

“You wriggle your nose when you’re mad. And then bite your lip.” He says with a soft grin, flicking his eyes up for a moment. “I look forward to learning more of you. And I can’t wait to see what you’ll do as queen.”

You ignore him, not quite sure what you’ll be doing in the future, but deciding you couldn’t possibly be okay sharing it with this man. 

“Ah, my moon, you’re legs are so skinny. I shall ensure you eat plenty of fatty meat tonight.” He jibbed, and you can’t help but retort. At first, you thought he just enjoyed poking at you.

“I shall not!” You cry out, huffing imperiously.

He chuckles, continuing to find ways to insult and praise you in turn. You watch, thinking he may expect you to help, but it seems that he’s pleased with just getting you to speak to him. It takes you a while to realize that. 

It takes the Gerudo King an hour or so to skin the beast, but nearly the rest of the day to scrape the pelt and prepare the meat. 

And to be honest, you don’t find the verbal sparring quite as boring as you thought it should be.

As the night draws in, you are surprised as he rises, tossing the pelt at you. You are more prepared for his moods and don’t yelp quite as loudly. It seems that he has kept his word and made you quite the coat. Though you aren’t fond that he has kept on the vicious-looking head, including the fangs.

But it’s warm, and it can be used as a blanket.

You rise, putting it on, discovering that it’s more of a hooded cloak, held together with some gold buttons in the bags he has. Gold, gold, gold. It seems the Gerudo are very fond of it.

A heavy presence comes at your back, then, the King settles a familiar necklace at your throat.

You near croak as his fingers brush the skin of your throat. He had, much to your surprise, kept a respectful distance, even while you slept. But his touch seems to erupt something deep in you, something you thought your anger had tempered into hate.

Apparently not.

“That’s my girl.” He mutters, voice like the rumble of old stones in deep places, before moving back. A chill is left where his breath was on your neck. “My radiant queen.”

You blink.

“It comes off?” You cry out, and the Gerudo king’s head falls back into riotous laughter. You turn to hit him, angry. “You demon! That thing has been a yokel on my neck the entire time!”

“I took it off after I saved you from drowning, to stop you from choking,” He says happily. “But this necklace is a symbol of our union. I mined these stones myself, and at night in the moon, they shall glow, now that you have the bands of the King’s wife.”

You step back, putting a hand on the moonstone necklace.

Magic? You had magic items now?

“Does it do anything else?” You say, and he chuckles.

“Patience, my dove. There are many wonders of the Gerudo you shall have and hold, but we must journey and present ourselves before the Spirit Temple as man and wife before that.

You furrow your brow.

“Are we leaving now? The spirit temple?” He pats your head, and you move to swat him, though even you admit it’s hardly a swat.

“Yes. I will not have my bride out in the open where I cannot protect you. From the variable temper to your Hyrulian king, to that tiresome Yiga clan in Karusa Valley make me uneasy.” He goes to the packs, moving what he assumes you’ll both need there.

You have no idea what he’s talking about, and it makes you feel a bit important and stupid that he seems to think you will. The only thing you did know is that Karusa valley was on the way to Gerudo Valley.

“Do the Yiga not… like the Gerudo?” You say carefully, watching him as he loads up one huge pack, and one smaller, probably for you. You know you should be glad he is making your escape a bit easier, but you can’t help but be fascinated with politics.

He grunts, looking put out.

“On the contrary, they seem to glorify me over much. They kept throwing maidens and trying to form treaties. But they are scavengers and all people of no morals or regard for anyone but themselves. To ally with them is to put a knife at your own back. I-” He seems almost embarrassed to tell you more, cutting himself off.

“And,” You say, arms folding. He sighs.

“Reports show that they are not pleased with my recent choices.” He doesn’t look at you, flexing his back as he lifts the two packs easily.

“They want to be rid of me.” You say, turning your head to look at the ground. Oh, so not only have you been kidnapped for an unwanted marriage in exchange for an alliance that is shaky at best, but now you are a target. “Are you remorseful now?” You say snappily. “A little late, after kick-starting this whole kidnapping thing.”

Your anger has left the room feeling sourer than the smell of the hot springs.

For a moment the cavern is quiet, then the sound of the packs being set down interrupts the finality of your statement.

You don’t expect the soft brush of fingers against your face. Your chin is lifted, oh so very softly. He lifts your gaze to his own, and you find that he is kneeling, to even your heights. Golden eyes flash before your eyes, shimmering like the gold he has adorned you in at every chance. But they aren’t filled with the gleam of humor. No, they are full of concern and regret.

“I will not tell you false words, as you have lived with those people who have only spoken falsely all their days. But I have spoken falsely. I have not wandered the vast dunes of the desert, wrestled the angry molduga, and proved myself worthy to the mighty Vah Naboris to not ensure my bride of her safety.” 

Your breath catches as he bows himself before you, both palms falling to the stone below you both.

“Know this, my lady. Should anything happen, I shall gladly sacrifice myself for you. In any situation.” He pauses for a moment, before his eyes lift, making your chest burn.

Your shoulders straighten at the look he gives you. It’s not a lazy, lusty look, nor a patient humor. This is the look of a man who seems to know too much. A man willing to sacrifice anything.

He gives a sad smile.

“And in any life.”

-X-

The road to Gerudo isn’t easy. Not that you know exactly where you are- the fact that Ganondorf isn’t exactly telling you isn’t surprising- but you get the feeling that he is taking a longer route than necessary.

You only travel during the late afternoon and evening. It seems like progress should be slow, but since crossing the gorge the first day, and entering into thick yellow flat plains, it goes by far quicker than you like.

The Gerudo King isn’t heartless, but he makes you go as far as you can, even wanting to carry you. Putting your foot firmly down, you deny him such a thing. But that doesn’t stop him from boxing you in at night when he makes camp, usually against a cliff or in another, less plush cave. Then you only have a blanket and the reeds on the ground. And the Gerudo who offers his warm embrace, which you reject.

But he makes you let him put thick green salve on the blister that forms on your feet. You don’t even complain the second day, as they make the soreness disappear and a callus grows through the thick shoes of that bear pelt he had made for you.

Though you can feel his heat at night, and sorely regret your pride, you don’t break.

It seems that the heavily cushioned tent was only for the honeymoon.

On the third day, the land turns from thick grass to rock dust, which becomes even worse as you see tall craggy mountains in the distance.

He continues to chat with you the entire time, though most of the time you are busy trying to not trip and fall using your new shoes.

 Even more so when on the fourth day of travel you come across an obvious Gerudo Outpost. Obvious, thanks to the giant black horse awaiting you there.

You inch towards the tent, a wonderful little spot between some boulders, filled with soft grass. You collapse, glad for the soft landing. Sweat pools on your brow.

The Gerudo King is hardly winded, patting his horse who neighs at him in appreciation. 

“Ah, it seems that my fine soldiers have done us a favor. We should find them at the Gerudo pass if all goes to plan.” You raise your head. 

“We are approaching the Desert?” You ask, tiredly, moving to rebraid your hair.

He moves to the ground next to you, pulling his pack to the side. He has somehow already gotten a fire going.

“On the morrow, we should be able to see the wasteland tower and Spectacle Rock. Once we pass through Gerudo Canyon we will pass the Jee Noh Shrine. There we shall bathe in her holy waters, the first of the shines we must go to before entering the Spirit Shrine.”

“What about Gerudo town?” You ask, pulling a hand through your hair, becoming frustrated as it keeps falling. To your surprise, the Gerudo king motions you to come to him.

“Let me help and I shall tell you.”

And you do as he says.

You sit before him as gently lifts your hair, weaving it from a frizzy mess into a series of intricate braids. “After Jee Noh we shall oass Kay Noh, Dako Tah, and Daqo Chisay. Then we shall enter Gerudo Town to rest to await a cooler season. Once we are ready, we can travel to the other, and you can see all the desert in her fury and beauty.”

“A cooler season?” You say, leaning into his touch.

“Yes. The heat of the desert during the summer should not be something you should face as a new queen. There shall be supplies to get to my town, but from there you shall be trained as a queen and for the desert.”

You sigh, not even wanting to know.

His deft fingers finish twisting your braid, positioning it carefully. Hesitantly, he moves his hands away, but it’s already so cold, so you lean into him. Just for tonight, while your feet are still sore. 

His voice is quiet, once again close.

“May I stay close tonight, my moon?”

It lights that fire in you, but you’re so tired that it tempers into something like the gentle burn of a cooking fire.

You give a wave.

“Don’t ruin my hair.”

Then you fall asleep.

[welldonebeca]

Correspondência (6) - 8th of December 1815

8th of December, 1815

Penelope exhaled in a long breath when her eyes caught sight of her family country estate, feeling her hands cold for reasons that weren’t even Winter.

There she was, home sweet home.

The journey had taken four days, partially because of the distance from Debling Estate but also because of her condition. The carriage rides she once found manageable were now the worst thing she could have ever felt in her life.

Now there was a little human in her belly that felt very heavy and made her feel quite uncomfortable. They had to stop at three different inns along the way to allow her a moment of respite, and by now, when they were finally near Featherington State, Penelope’s back ached, and she was undeniably tired.

She was flooded with relief and anxiety as the carriage rolled to a stop. That was her old home, the place where she had grown up and was filled with memories, good and bad.

It was also where Mama was waiting for her with Philippa and Prudence, and where she would spend the next month with the three of them - and their pairs.

Penelope breathed in and out, trying to at least appear decent and not as nervous.

She stepped down, met by the crisp Winter air, and was grateful for Rae’s kind reminder of wearing her new boots for this – the floor was covered in snow now.

“Lady Debling,” she heard.

She raised her head, and Mrs Selby was coming right out to meet her before Varley could even step out through the door.

“Mrs Selby,” she breathed out, relaxing.

Mrs Selby had been in a different carriage from hers and had taken the usual time to get there – which was good, cause it meant most of her things were settled and she probably had a room ready to rest.

“I was so worried, ma’am,” her governess curtsied to her quickly.

“Well, someone wasn’t keen on travelling and made it everyone’s problem,” she joked, adjusting her coat.

It hid her well enough – no onlooker would guess her state when wearing it.

“Do you want me to run you a warm bath?” she offered.

Penelope softened.

Oh, she was always the sweetest, wasn’t she?

“Please,” she told her.

“I’ll have a hot meal ready for you when you are done,” her governess affirmed, squeezing her hand.

“Did you rest well?” Penelope asked back. “Did you settle you in well?”

Mrs Selby’s cheeks flushed pink.

“I have nothing to complain about,” she affirmed emphatically. “The staff here is the most respectful. Lady Feathering did ask me some questions, but I assured her you were well and on your way.”

Penelope nodded, still a bit nervous.

“Thank you.”

Varley appeared at the door again just as Penelope started climbing the stairs, and Mrs Selby didn’t let go of her hand.

“Careful, ma’am,” she spoke gently. “I should have had someone clean those steps before you came.”

“It’s fine,” Penelope assured her. “I’m not that heavy, Mrs Selby.”

She scoffed.

“You’re still in a delicate condition,” she chastised her. “I must make sure you’re safe and cared for while Lord Debling is away. It’s my duty.”

Penelope wanted to correct her, but it was quite a nice feeling, having someone worry so much about her.

They reached the door together, and she was taking off her gloves when Mama finally arrived at the foyer.

“Penelope,” her mother exhaled, clenching her hands together, looking at her with soft eyes and a very tense smile. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Penelope tried not to look too tense as she smiled back.

“Hello, Mama,” she breathed out, squeezing her coat in her hands.

Her mother stepped up, and Penelope instinctively took a step back, earning a confused frown from her.

“Let me get your coat, ma’am,” Mrs Selby helped her.

Penelope looked down at herself. Well. That was it, wasn’t it?

As the coat slid off her shoulders, Mama’s eyes slowly travelled down to her body, the realisation dawning with an almost palpable weight. Her hands fell to her sides, and her lips turned down in a sad frown.

“Penelope,” she exhaled.

“Mama.”

Her mother’s gaze lingered on her body, her head shaking as if to dispel disbelief.

“You are… you’re expecting,” she said, bringing a hand to her lips. “How long have you been like this?”

“6 months,” she mumbled. “As of now.”

There was a long moment of staring and quiet as her mother seemed to process it.

“So when we last saw one another...” Mama realised. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Penelope swallowed down, unable to meet her eyes.

“I was going through enough on my own. The estate is very important to manage. I was under enough pressure without… you.”

“Without me?!” she echoed.

Penelope’s eyes filled with tears she couldn’t control. As if her mother didn’t know? As if she hadn’t been so terribly overbearing when she was being courted by Lord Debling, when she was about to marry him!

“The one time we saw one another in the last seven months had you spending every minute away from Lord Debling reminding me of my duty to bear an heir,” she defended herself.

“And you think I wouldn’t be happy to know you’re carrying a child?!”

“Happy? Yes!” Penelope confirmed, staring at her mother, feeling her throat knot up. “And then I would have spent every month since then hearing and reading about how much I need to have a boy and how I will be damned if anything happens to my husband and I’m left with a daughter!”

“Is that what you think of me?” she asked in the softest of voices. “That I would hear such wonderful news and would be so insensitive and vile that I was going to be pressuring you for something you can hardly control?”

Penelope looked away, the bitterness in her throat making her speak before her mind could stop her.

“You’ve been insensitive and vile plenty.”

Her mother’s face fell, and she shook her head, closing her eyes.

“What do you want me to say to you, now?” she asked, her voice full of shock. “After you... you words? You are my baby, Penelope! My last baby.”

Penelope sighed. That was her justification, then? She saw her as a baby.

“Yes, I was so content in knowing I would get to keep you forever!” her mother insisted. “I would have you by my side for the rest of our lives. How can you blame me for it? And then you found someone who’ll keep you secure, but I thought I would get to keep you for at least another three years before your husband was back and stole you from me.”

“Mama—”

“But he didn’t steal you, did he?” her mother interrupted, her face wet with tears. “You flew away the moment you had a chance. I know I might not have been the kindest, but… over half a year without hearing from you? Without a moment by your side. You refused our invitations, you refused to invite us, and now I learn you’ve done it to keep such wonderful news from me?”

“I was protecting myself,” Penelope defended herself.

Her mother’s lip trembled as she pressed them together, looking away.

“Would you ice me out for a year then? Not even tell me of my grandchild?” she asked.

Penelope lowered her eyes, blinking her tears away.

“I’m here now,” she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

Her mother took a shaky breath, wiping her eyes and looking at her face, smiling sadly.

“If he is a boy, we celebrate,” she affirmed. “Lord Debling has a son, he has someone to carry his name.”

Penelope looked away, but she wasn’t finished.

“If she is a girl, then we celebrate even more”

She turned to her mother, surprised and confused.

“A boy is his son, but a girl is your daughter,” she affirmed sadly. “She is always going to be your baby.”

Penelope breathed out, and Mama’s hand twitched for a moment, and she could see her reaching for her for the briefest of seconds before pulling back, and she looked away.

“Your governess has prepared your room for you,” she spoke suddenly. “You should go up and rest. The travel mustn’t have been comfortable in your state.”

Penelope nodded, feeling a mix of relief and lingering tension.

“Thank you, Mama.”

Mrs Selby cleared her throat, and Penelope turned to look at her.

“Come, ma’am,” she called. “Let’s get you settled.”

As they made their way up, Penelope glanced back at her mother, who just stood there, watching her with an unreadable face.

She was just half-way up the stairs when Mama walked off.

“I spoke to Mrs Varley and your bath is coming up already,” Mrs Selby told her, clearly trying to light up the subject. “I made sure to tell them not to heat up the water too much, but they are experienced with Mrs Finch and Mrs Dankworth’s baths.”

Penelope nodded quietly.

“Thank you, Mrs Selby.”

They got into her bedroom, and everything looked just like it always was, which was quite comforting, to be fair.

“Forgive me for the room, ma’am,” her governess spoke, sounding displeased. “I did ask them if they had a bigger room, but since Lord Debling hasn’t come with you, it is believed you will not need much more space than you did previous.”

Penelope smiled softly to her, squeezing her hand.

“I like my old room, Mrs Selby, don’t worry,” she assured her. “Can you help me undress for my bath? I need to get out of these heavy clothes.”

“Of course,” Mrs Selby agreed. “Let me close the door properly.”

. . .

Starting this August, "Correspondência" is getting Early Access on my Patreon. To read up to chapter 12 now, and up to chapter 16 by the end of the month, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it!

[angelofrainfrogs]

Spend the Night: Ch. 15

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

The night's not over yet You can't escape me You really can't forget You can't escape me The party's just begun You can't escape me You can try, that just makes things more fun!

~You Can’t Escape Me by Dagames~

Together they would reminisce, the old ghosts regaling Freddy of their childhood misadventures until Gregory begun to stir from his nap. When he realized he’d fallen asleep for a few hours, he shot up and glanced around.

“Morning, sunshine,” Charlie told him, attempting to placate with a firm hand on his back. “It's almost 6, buddy...”

With dawn, it was time to discuss the elephant in the room. What was best for Gregory moving forward?

Luckily, Freddy had been thinking through a plan while the others spun their tales. He held Gregory securely as the boy’s heart rate calmed down once he realized he was safe and sound with his protectors.

“Good morning, superstar; do not worry, I have an idea of how to get through the dayshift.” Freddy’s gaze moved between Michael and Charlie as he explained. “There is a fair chance the Pizzaplex will be closed due to the other animatronics being in such a distressed state. In these cases, we are confined to our rooms. Since there are no guests to entertain, there is no need for us to walk around; the only times we are taken out are for routine maintenance.”

He looked around the security office for a moment, letting out a small sigh.

“Ideally we could stay here, but I know that this office is used by dayshift staff… so I think the best thing would be to move our base temporarily to my room,” Freddy continued. “We will keep the curtains shut and stay quiet, and if anyone comes by you three can hide in the back storage area. Charlie and Gregory can fit in the storage lockers, and Michael—” He gave the fox an apologetic sort of smile. “It is not a perfect spot, but your best bet would be to stand in my charging station and cover the window with your cloak.”

Everyone took a moment to think about this idea. Nothing could guarantee Gregory’s safety from other animatronics as much as being in the security office, but… maybe things would be different during the day. Hopefully they’d be less ravenous for human children, at the very least.

“I think that’s the best idea we have,” Michael eventually agreed. “We should probably pick up some food and water for Gregory soon, though—we definitely don’t want to be wandering around for any reason.”

Gregory was going to ask for another bag of Toxic Gummy Bunnies, though his favorite sour-candy may have been ruined by the thoughts of those gummies wanting to inject him with an odd, purple liquid.

“Can I have pizza for breakfast?” he asked, knowing it probably had more substance than the bags full of candy and Fizzy Faz he'd been subsisting on for the past week. He thought about the state of his teeth because of it as well. There was a gross film of plaque that had caked his back molars, and overall Gregory needed water.

After looking to the clock, Charlie reckoned the employees would be coming in soon but there was enough time to fetch their human ward some grub. She’d never complain when it came to food. And anyway, the Fazbear industry was a known death trap. So why shouldn't the food slowly kill you, too?

“Normally I would discourage such a meal first thing in the day, but I believe we can make an exception,” Freddy remarked, giving Gregory a little squeeze before standing to take his hand. “Let us stop by the Faz Pad; it is the closest restaurant and will have the most options.”

“The coast looks clear,” Michael said, scanning the multitude of camera feeds as he slowly got to his feet, tugging Charlie with him. “We’re right behind you guys.”

Gregory had been somewhat cranky. Not outwardly mean to his caregivers but certainly fidgety. It seemed he wasn't a big fan of mornings and was still adjusting from last night’s horror-fest. He was good for them though, and held onto Freddy's hand as they roamed through the very quiet Pizzaplex as morning light shined in.

All was quiet again. The oppressive air from last night had been lifted, in its place a tranquility that one only knew of after hours of relentless chasing. The Faz Pad's automatic lights were on as they arrived. S.T.A.F.F. bots moved slowly around counters and tables to disinfect and clean their surfaces, practically ignoring the four of them aside from occasionally being in their way. Gregory was happy he could sit relatively unguarded at one of stools set up by the pink neon counter as he scanned the menu.

“Let’s see… what’s good to eat in this place?” Michael asked, ignoring the pained creak of metal under his weight as he slid into the stool next to Gregory’s. Freddy was in the back gathering pizza, water, and anything else he thought Gregory might need for the long day ahead, leaving Mike and Charlie to keep watch and entertain said kid. Michael looked over the menu, his eyes widening at all the options.

“Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a burger and side of chips…,” he murmured, knowing he’d be drooling at the colorful pictures of greasy food if he could. He chuckled, turning to Charlie who was stationed near the entrance. “Hey, remember that time we went to the local dinner with our siblings and just got a huge bucket? The five of us demolished that thing in like thirty minutes!”

Mike continued to snicker as he turned back to the counter. “I swear I was wiping grease off my fingers for days after that…”

Charlie stopped her stalwart watch to glance towards her friends, noting Gregory’s particular look of interest. Charlie must’ve been around his age when they took that trip to their local 24-hour diner. She leaned in on her hands and laughed. “Dude, I was so bloated. I don't think I've ever found another place that oils their fries like that!”

As Gregory listened to their insider story, he wondered if he closed his eyes he could imagine what they looked like. He’d seen Michael's ghost, so that was easier to picture even it'd only been a split-second view. It was much harder to put a name to a face when it came to Charlie. 

“I think if I could eat, I'd go back there and down a whole bucket myself!” she mused. It was worth the acne she’d gotten for sure, though that was another time she swore Evan was going to puke. “Remember how Lizzie still ordered ice cream after?”

“I swear that girl had a second stomach for the stuff.” Michael shook his head, the grin on his face still prominent. “But that was fine with me—Evan and I much preferred ice pops. Swore by the blue ones.” He let out a snort, remembering an anecdote from earlier. “Well, until he ate too many; then he decided he liked the red ones instead and stole all mine…”

Michael huffed, though it was full of more brotherly affection than annoyance. He looked at Gregory, lightly tapping the desserts section of the laminated menu. “Anyway, what kind of kid are you, Gregory—an ice cream kid or an ice pop one?”

It was a summer ritual for the Afton boys, Charlie noticed. Every night after dinner Mike would grab popsicles for him and Evan without fail. As soon as the air was warm and humid, that was when Mr. Afton’s fridge was stockpiled with boxes of the stuff.

Gregory had been asked a good question. What did he prefer? As he glanced away in search of an answer, a cake trapped beneath a glass case caught his eye. With an instantly watering mouth he remembered the best dessert he ever had.

“Does ice cream cake count?” He answered with a question, which had Charlie placing her hands on her head.

“I totally forgot about ice cream cake—” she said as if new avenues were suddenly open to them.

“—with blue icing.” Gregory decided, as if he was some kind of icing connoisseur.

“Oh yeah, ice cream and cake, all in one?” Michael gave an approving nod. “That’s definitely the best. They’ve got to serve that somewhere in this huge place, right…?”

“Not in this location, but they do have a variety of options in Chica’s bakery upstairs,” Freddy replied, finally coming out of the kitchen. In his hands was a box pizza, and hung over his left wrist was a plastic bag full of drinks and other assorted snacks. He shuffled out from behind the counter and started for the door, speaking over his shoulder. “Come on, let us hurry back to my room; I can show you everything I picked out when we are there and Gregory can finally eat.”

Michael hopped off the bar stool, wincing as he heard the metal squeak again—he felt sorry for the next person to sit there because he had a feeling he probably broke down the integrity of the seat quite a bit…

Gregory was definitely going to need a dentist when he got out. All those breakfast Fizzy Faz's were about to reduce his teeth to carbon ash by the time he turned sixteen. Still, he was pretty stoked to try the Roxy flavor that he peeked at from inside the takeout bag. He seemed to have a bit more energy and hopped off his stool with a grin.

“You guys excited for pizza?!” Gregory said, so overtaken by the greasy delight he forgot he’d been spending time with things that realistically couldn't—or shouldn't—try to eat.

“Uh... For sure, little dude!” Charlie replied, hating to burst Gregory's bubble. It certainly didn't hurt to pretend for a moment that she could.

“Am I excited for pizza? Hel—Heck yes. Should I be excited? ...Probably not so much.” Mike decided to take a slightly more realistic approach when answering, though he made a point to avoid outright saying “no.” Would he actually put a piece of cheese, mystery meat, and tomato-topped dough in Foxy's mouth if Gregory offered it to him?

...Yes, if only to stop the look of disappointed realization that was spreading across the boy's face.

“You've just got to eat extra slices for Charlie and I, alright?” Michael added, holding out his paw for Gregory to take as they walked. He leaned down to murmur conspiratorially in his ear. “And also make sure to drink an extra Fizzy Faz for me when Freddy's not looking, okay?”

“I heard that, Michael,” Freddy said, not even bothering to turn around, though his tone indicated that he wasn't actually annoyed—he knew Michael was just trying to cheer Gregory up. Although, he wouldn't put it past the fox to help Gregory follow through on his suggestion.

Hmm... Freddy would have to keep an eye on those two when they paired up so they didn't get into more trouble, no matter how innocent.

This would make Gregory burst into a snicker, happily grasping onto Michael's paw. With his free hand, he mimicked zipping up his lips, silently telling Mike he'll keep the secret before shushing him, as if he was already blowing their cover. The sight made Charlie laugh as she got the door for the four of them.

She could see it now—the trend of bad decisions when they were unsupervised would continue to grow. How long would it be before Charlie got sucked into their antics?

At least the two of them meant well, she thought as they spilled into the mall again. Morning sunlight came through the atrium windows, basking the hall in a muted orange glow.

“Hey, look guys—Moon won't be able to bother us anymore.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. Moon...

“Eh, he was afraid of flashlights. He can come back when he scratches a hole in my cheek,” the boy replied in a jaded manner, touching the bandage on his face.

“I wonder if Sun would ever un-ban you from the Daycare,” Michael thought aloud, though he quickly grimaced as he remembered their prior visit. He'd still been stuck inside the Freddy then, and had to watch helplessly through his eyes as Gregory and Charlie were chased around like crazy by Sun's alter ego. “...Not that I necessarily want to go back anytime soon.”

“I think once we get this virus cleared up, Sun will be quite amiable to letting Gregory back in,” Freddy replied with a soft chuckle.

It didn't take long for the group to reach Freddy's room, and after checking to make sure the door was locked and the curtains still tightly closed, the bear set the pizza down on the coffee table in front of the couch. It was shaped like a star, which was great for the aesthetic but horrible in terms of practicality, as it was only able to fit the pizza box and nothing else. So, Freddy simply emptied the contents of the plastic bag onto the floor, laying everything out for Gregory to examine. Along with a whole bunch of napkins, Freddy had grabbed three bottles of water and one of each Fizzy Faz flavor, as well as a few assorted bags of chips and a pre-made PB&J sandwich, if only for Gregory to have something minutely healthier than pizza for one meal.

“Thanks for the grub, Dad!” Gregory made sure to say, sliding towards the table fast as he reached for a handful of napkin.

Charlie had gone to the window, drawing the curtains tighter than before. When she turned around, it was to see the kid scarfing down the pizza fervently. “Dude, slow down!”

She laughed, deciding to pick him up and get him situated on the couch. He wouldn't answer now that he was eating a warm meal, though he didn't seem to complain in the slightest about being relocated.

“You're going to inhale that whole pizza without even tasting it,” she warned. Fazbear's pizza had always been suspicious with its ingredients, but she remembered inhaling the unhealthy slab of grease and cheese the same way. She couldn't forget the look Henry gave her that one time she told Mike that her and Sammy witnessed their fathers put a little something extra in the sauce. He claimed that the customers came back because it was good all on its own after scolding her lightly for the silly lie.

“Yes, save some for later, superstar—we must make this food last until the dayshift staff leaves,” Freddy said gently, though he couldn't help but chuckle at Gregory's clear excitement. It warmed his mechanical heart to see him happy and enjoying something for once.

Michael had settled himself on the floor, curious to examine these infamous Fizzy Faz drinks now that he had them all laid out. They were... interesting, to say the least. Orange soda was the most standard, and Mike found it ironic that this was Freddy's brand—a classic flavor to match a classic character. Grape wasn't too bad either, though the concept of carbonated pink lemonade and sour lime was something Michael couldn't quite imagine. He'd have to ask Gregory to describe what exactly these things tasted like the next time he tried one.

“If I eat one slice an hour, I'll be able to last to night shift.” Gregory said, thinking about how he'd portion his slices in advance. He even decided the peanut butter and jelly were to be an auxiliary snack. There would be no need to stress about another food run for him, at least for today.

Meanwhile, Charlie was thinking about how she would give a limb to taste what the orange soda was like. She remembered the orange creamsicle fountain drink at the diner and hoped that someone in this company had the sense to make it similar. Though even if it was new, she wouldn't complain. To be able to taste any kind of soda would be amazing.

As if he read her mind, Gregory looked to Michael, swallowing a lump of pizza to ask him, “Could you pass me the orange one please?”, bouncing slightly when Charlie decided to crash onto the couch next to him.

“Ready?” Mike met Gregory's gaze as he picked up the can, throwing it experimentally into the air and catching it with his paw. Upon Gregory's nod, Michael tossed the drink in an expert arc that fell perfectly into the boy's waiting hands. The fox blinked, surprised that it'd actually worked—he half expected the soda to bean the kid in the head if Charlie's reflexes didn't kick in fast enough to stop it. “Whoa... guess that was some internal precision-based programming kicking in.”

Gregory opened the can, its cracking noise followed by a light spray of the soft drink. It made Charlie raise her arms as the sugary spritz of orange soda splashed her slightly. It wasn't a big deal, she had been covered in worse over the years. But Gregory still sent her an apologetic look before taking a sip.

While the soda situation was being addressed, Freddy moved to the window, leaning as close as he could without jostling the curtains too much. There were definitely people outside now, their tired chatter heard mutely through the glass. Freddy looked back to the group and pressed a finger over his mouth, signaling for them to lower their voices.

“The glass is thick so we do not have to be completely silent unless we hear someone right outside, but we should still speak in a whisper just to be safe,” the bear informed them in the exact sort of hushed tone he wanted the others to use.

Outside's morning crew looked somewhat baffled at the state they found Chica in. Judging by the body language as she sat by a planter, head in her hands, it appeared they were scolding her. None of the Glamrocks should've been out of their rooms, yet Chica appeared to be covered in pizza grease and scuff marks galore. Worst of all, when she tried to explain herself she couldn't even remember how she’d gotten all the way back to the main stage!

“Are they going to arrest her?” Gregory asked, as the day shift's blue-buttoned shirts sort of reminded him of a mall cops. He was just barely able to peer past Freddy through the curtains, mostly hidden behind the bear's leg. “If they can, they should.”

“No, they are not going to arrest her,” Freddy replied, shooing Gregory back so he wouldn't be seen by passing employees. “They will likely take her to Parts & Service once they finish lecturing her for getting so damaged, and then they will—”

Freddy cut himself off, eyes widening as a thought struck him. Finding one animatronic dirty and damaged could be chalked up to a malfunction specific to that character alone. But if they found Roxy—or worse, Monty—in similar states... 

“Freddy, what's wrong?” Mike asked, coming up to the window and pushing Gregory even further back into the room. As Michael watched he saw one of the staff members gathered around Chica suddenly break off and head right for their position. “Shit!”

“Language, Michael!” Freddy chided, quickly pulling the curtain closed and turning to face the others. “You must hide now—I think I am about to be taken to Parts & Service with the rest of the animatronics. Hopefully they will let me go if they see that nothing major is wrong with me, but please lock the door after I leave and stay hidden in the back until I return.”

“Should we take the pizza?!” asked Gregory in a hurried voice. He threw his slice into the box and managed to close it before Charlie could wrap her hands around him and lift him off the ground.

“Forget the pizza! Mike, get the door. Let's get you to the recharge station—” Heading for the backrooms, the three of them fled as a girl with tanned skin and curly red hair knocked at Freddy's door.

Mike followed Charlie's instructions, shutting the door to the backroom just as he heard the knock. In mild panic mode, when Puppet handed off the kid he instinctively pulled Gregory possible inside the recharge station, apologizing for the constricting space. Mike hadn’t been in one after obtaining his new body, his ghostly soul enough to keep Foxy working without regard for battery power. The electrical whirring that auto-started when he closed the pod door made him jump at first, although his body did connect and began to fill his apparently-depleted battery. It was a weird sensation, but also relaxing in a strange way. He wondered if the Glamrocks enjoyed their small breaks away from the world in these things—he sure would if he was a normal robot.

Satisfied that Gregory was hidden despite the unconventional spot, Charlie gave the boys two thumbs up from outside the charging station and carefully climbed one of the many shelving units, slotting herself in a darkened corner.

Gregory hadn’t been fussy about being haphazardly shoved into the charging pod with Michael. It may have been boring, but Foxy’s peg leg gave him more range of motion to move with. Freddy was just bulky enough that Gregory knew staying in the pods for too long even without being in his stomach compartment would feel claustrophobic fast.

***

The knock was easy going and patient, the voice behind it muffled by thick metal. “Mornin', Freddy! You awake?”

“Good morning!” Freddy replied, setting his face into its default smile. Opening the door, he was relieved to see who it was—though barely starting the job a week ago, this girl had already cemented herself between humans and robots alike as one of the nicest employees by a mile. “It is nice to see you; how are you today?”

The short, kindly security guard outside had an odd name. Or, it’d be more accurate to say that her nametag was strange, reading: “Soapie.” Her first order of business was to give Freddy an ocular pat down. She already knew he’d been out of his room that day from the dirt on his legs, but the thing that stuck out to her most were his hands.

Those green and purple claws did not belong to Freddy Fazbear…

“Hey, big guy!” Soapie replied, knowing she’d get more cooperation from the ursine robot by being as sweet as honey. Her curls bounced as she glanced inside the room, noting some snacks scattered around the table. Yet another odd thing—not only should Freddy be free of dirt, his room shouldn’t have a mess within either. He’d been out of commission and barred from visitors due to his concert malfunction, so he most definitely hadn't had Meet & Greets since a few days ago.

“Looks like you had a big night too, huh?” she finally concluded, her eyes roaming back to those hands. With a sickening twist in the pit of her stomach, the guard finally realized exactly who those claws belonged to: Monty—who’d been missing all morning.

Darn. In the scatter of making sure the others were safe, Freddy had completely forgotten about his new set of appendages. So much for convincing the staff there was nothing wrong with him…

“Ah… yes,” Freddy admitted, looking apologetic as he sheepishly clasped Monty’s hands behind his back. He certainly wasn’t going to tell this woman all the details, though—not without some heavy editing on his part.

“Things were a bit… strange last night. The other animatronics were not acting like themselves—have you gotten an opportunity to speak with them, by any chance?” He paused, tilting his head in concern. “Or perhaps Officer Vanessa? She seemed quite under the weather as well—has she made contact with anyone this morning?”

Soapie let out a whispery laugh, crossing her arms as she nodded, softly interrogating the bear as she decided to answer his questions. “Yeah, we kinda gathered that. We found Roxy at the raceway—you know, as per usual. I just spoke to Ness over the radio, and she was telling me she had issues corralling you all. You know how understaffing at night goes…”

Though she hadn’t actually seen her boss yet, Soapie wasn’t worried. Most of the nights here were fairly calm, although there was a clearly a programming bug going around that seemed to be infecting the robots like a kid with a cold.  

“I found Chica with a torn up pizza box in her stomach hatch. Can you believe that?” asked the guard, who seemed to have nothing but genuine concern for the programmed personalities. With a smile, she stepped out of the way for Freddy to exit. “Don’t worry though, we’re going to take everyone to Parts & Service for a quick tune up and shine—you included, Fredbear.”

Soapie had made it seem like a suggestion, when in reality Vanessa wanted her and the others to gather the band together asap.

“Of course,” Freddy agreed, following obediently. At least if he was gone, staff should have no reason to go into his room—hopefully the others would be safe and sound until he returned.

He allowed the young woman to take the lead, musing on whet she’d said as he followed behind. So “Vanessa” was back this morning—Freddy had been worried that William’s influence was now infecting her 24/7, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He couldn’t confirm this unless he actually saw her, of course, but he had a feeling “Vanny” couldn’t keep up the ruse of being her opposite persona for more than a few seconds.

They caught up to Chica just as her lecture was coming to an end. Freddy watched her closely for signs of the crazed animatronic he’d seen last night, but as she spotted him he could tell that the bright, happy light in her eyes was the same as it should be.

The poor chicken even seemed embarrassed. Chica was as much a rebel as Roxy at times when it came to coming and leaving her room. But she’d never overdone it like she had last night, and with them finding pizza boxes swallowed and shoved inside her chest cavity, she’d been given a rather stern talking to.

On her radio, Soapie called in to her boss. “Hey, Ness. I’ve got Chica and Freddy; taking them to the service elevator now. Over.”

Giving the two robotic friends a wide smile, she told Chica: “Come on, no long faces okay? We’re just gonna go to Parts & Service, ask some questions, then get you guys cleaned up.” It seemed that they believed so wholly in the software issue that no punishments would be doled out today.

“I just wished I remembered…” Chica sighed, managing to smile when she saw Freddy, despite her surprise at the state of the normally-composed bear. With his hands conveniently kept out of her sightline, she had no reason to question the green claws. “You too, Fred?”

“Unfortunately so,” Freddy said, hanging his head in mock shame. Chica’s words rang heavy in his ears. He knew they got temporary amnesia when Gregory moved out of sight after they’d spotted him, but to not recall any of their actions last night was quite a feat. Freddy quickly realized that if he wanted to get through this situation in one piece, he’d best play along.

“My recollection of the night is unclear—I believe there is an issue with my memory banks,” the bear added with a frown. He looked at Chica with eyes full of confusion, hoping she’d believe him in his distress—the anxiety was real alright, but the cause of it was wherein Freddy’s fib lied. “Do you remember anything that happened?”

Chica seemed to feel a great deal of sympathy in that moment. It was scary not knowing what you were up to. However, the excitable chicken was programmed specifically to be one of the most uplifting animatronics around. Nothing bad ever lasts forever, and she was determined to prove it!

“Don’t worry, Freddy! They’re going to fix us up—we’ll be back playing concerts in no time!” Chica assured. Unfortunately, at Freddy’s question she drew a blank. It was terrible; just like every night this week her memory was going bad.

“Uh… I think I ran into a Foxy cardboard cutout and had a mini freak-out. Other than that? Nothin’!” Chica let out a small, genuine laugh. It’s not as if she could imagine herself doing anything crazy like hunting down people like some apex predator. There was no need to be so morose. “It’s just kinda embarrassing. Apparently I ate a bunch of pizza last night, box and all. I’ve gotta go get my endo scraped again…”

The security guard that led them into an unlocked service elevator patted her arm. It must be torturous to be designed with an endless love of food, yet unable to consume it.

“We’ll get you nice and clean for the kids next week,” she dutifully assured as their descent began. At Freddy’s questioning gaze, she cleared her throat and scratched the side of her face. “I’ve got a feeling the Big Boss is going to close us down for a few days; there’s a lot of weird stuff going on, and with him at that huge stakeholders meeting and not here to manage it all, he’s probably losing his mind.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” Freddy offered a tiny smile as the elevator began to move. “That is probably for the best until we can sort all of these odd bugs out.”

Looking to Chica, his face softened. This was the bird he knew—positive and optimistic. Freddy wanted to reach out and comfort her as well, but she hadn’t seemed to notice Monty’s claws yet and he did not want to bring any extra attention to them.

Speaking of which… the guard hadn’t said anything about actually finding Monty, only Chica and Roxy. He’d been in such a sorry state, it was impossible for them not to locate spare parts chopped on that little stage. Hopefully Freddy could get out of there before the gator caught sight of his claws; the bear was still trying to figure out a way to explain them to the technicians, although it seemed like amnesia was going to be the best route for most of this.

Freddy gave a soft laugh, not wanting the others to grow concerned if he got lost in his thoughts too long. While Freddy had the tendency to “think” the most out of all the Glamrocks, it was because he’d been designed as the most protective and logical of the group—as the leader of the band, it was his duty to keep the others in check. He could get away with pausing while his “systems” figured out how to respond or what to do next, but there was an unspoken time limit to this that would be cause for alarm if he continually overstepped it.

“Those life-size cutouts can be jarring; I sometimes come upon one rounding a corner and am surprised when they do not answer me back!” the bear said in response to Chica’s earlier comment, trying to add his own levity to the situation. She’d clearly run into Michael last night, which the fox in question neglected to tell them about. Although, with the William incident likely occurring right afterwards, Freddy couldn’t blame him for forgetting such a comparatively small detail.

Chica let out a sigh. “I'm so glad I'm not the only one! Roxy's lucky she doesn't have that problem. I wonder if Monty gets spooked… We'll have to ask him when we see him.”

The nice security guard, who’d been casually listening to their easygoing dialogue with interest, quirked her brows just slightly. The change in her face was minute, clearly not meant to cause worry.

“That reminds me, uh—” Soapie reached for her walkie, murmuring into the receiver. “Hey, Ness? We're en route for Parts & Services. Did you find Montgomery yet?”

Impatient for an answer, she drummed her fingers over the back of the plastic communication device. He’d been missing from the get go, which was odd for an animatronic, and even stranger for the biggest in the Glamrock band. Adding in every light completely busted in Monty's room, she had a bad feeling right from the start.

Static issued from the walkie for a few seconds, before the telltale beep of the receiver. There was a bit of fumbling before Vanessa’s voice issued forth, sounding a bit far away.

“Ugh, stupid fuckin’—” More shuffling, then her voice came though as loud and clear as the walkie would allow. “Okay—hello? Can you hear me?”

Upon Soapie’s confirmation, Vanessa let out a sigh. Her voice was tired, the exhaustion of the night obviously taking its toll. Something definitely went down… even if Ness didn’t remember 90% of it. If the animatronics weren’t enough proof, her broken wrist surely was.

“So, uh… Monty.” Vanessa paused, her finger still holding the mic down, and the faint sounds of the golf course could be heard in the background. She’d been actively looking for the gator when her coworker called. “We… kind of found him. This is gonna sound really weird but… we found his lower half. I don’t know what the fuck he got up to last night, but it seems like he fell off the catwalks, hit a beam, and got snapped in two.” She paused to grimace, her eyes roaming over the long path he’d taken in his fall. “Thing is, though, his upper torso’s still MIA. We’ve looked everywhere and it’s just… gone.”

Freddy’s eyes widened, but he managed to keep the full-body startle response in check. He couldn’t seem too emotional, even though Vanessa’s statement made him very, very nervous.

Had William taken Monty’s body? If so—why? And why not the whole thing?

Yet again, there were too many questions and not enough answers.

The dayshift guard stepped out of the lift, listening to Vanessa with furrowed brows. That hadn’t been the answer she expected at all, and frankly the fact that even happened to Monty stressed her out. It was going to come out of someone’s paycheck if they didn’t resolve the issue by the time the boss rolled back into the office. Soapie gripped her hair, a self-soothing tactic, only to find Chica in much dire straits over her friend.

“Monty fell?!” the bird gasped, rhetorically questioning the information presented to her. “W—What? Where could the rest of him be?”

Chica leaned against the lift walls as she tried to look past the shock. What had startled her further was Freddy’s lack of concerned reaction. She noted it from the corner of her eye.

“Isn’t that just awful, Fred?” she asked, the concern for both him and Monty apparent.

“Chica, look at me—relax. You’re gonna overheat your circuits. We’ll find the rest of him!” Soapie promised. She wasn’t about to let 500 whole pounds of animatronic tech go missing like that. Monty probably just… crawled off somewhere. Those Glamrocks were designed to keep working even if they were nothing more than a severed head.

Freddy’s arms were once again clasped behind his back as he offered Chica a reassuring smile. His eyes still held concern, though he didn’t want to make Chica more worried than she already was. His goal was to comfort her as best he could, like good friends were supposed to do.

“I am sure Monty will be alright,” the bear said, voice calm and measured. “You know him—he is very resilient.”

Apparently more so than any of us realized, he thought. Where in the world could that gator be?

“He will turn up soon enough,” Freddy continued aloud, moving closer to gently bump shoulders with his bird friend. In normal circumstances, this is when he’d pull her into a hug—in general, Chica appreciated more physical affection than the others, but especially when something went wrong. For now, the nudge would have to do. Freddy was really regretting getting these upgraded claws; they’d been nothing but trouble from the get-go.

Chica might have amnesia from the night shift, but she would absolutely remember the way Freddy was acting. While it was comforting to hear his words of assurance, Chica could just tell something was off.

It's a programming bug; he's had it since yesterday night, she told herself, trying not to dwell on the negatives. When they find Monty, maybe he'll know something. Chica held her arms in a self-hug as they walked into the frankly messy Parts & Service room.

“You party animals really tore the place up last night,” Soapie remarked with a snort, noting how Roxy actually listened to her for once and stayed inside the repair cylinder. She wasn’t one to scold the funny animatronic creatures. It's not as if their AI was capable of taking those criticisms to heart, she always figured.

Roxy sat, trapped in a case of her own ennui. Her claws rapped impatiently against the chair, but she perked up instantly upon seeing her friends and flashed them a razor-sharp smile.

“Man, you guys took your sweet time!” Roxy playfully chided. She’d already been scrubbed clean, though the dents in her casing were apparent in the bright fluorescent lighting.

Seeing Roxy cleaned off and looking much closer to her normal self gave Freddy a hesitant sense of relief. Yes, she was littered with dents and he was certain the virus still lingered in the back of her mind, waiting for the perfect time to reactivate… but for now, it seemed like she was okay.

“Hello, Roxy!” Freddy greeted brightly, inclining his head in lieu of waving. He could feel Chica’s eyes on him, watching him like a hawk. She could tell something was wrong, that much was obvious, but Freddy just hoped she chalked it up to a system-wide issue they were all going through. Freddy stepped up the cylinder, looking through the glass to where Roxy sat in the chair.

“I hear they caught you in the racetrack again,” he said with a light chuckle. Usually she’d either be in the beauty salon primping herself to perfection or practicing her skills on the raceway, both of which caused her to lose track of time, get caught by dayshift staff, and reprimanded for leaving her room.

Freddy wished it had been another one of those situations. Only he was aware of her true goal last night of hunting down a lost child.

Roxy laughed in response. She inclined her head, freshly-groomed mane bouncing as she rolled her eyes.

“If only I could live at the raceway. It's meant to be—I don't even remember getting down there!” she replied with a dreamy sigh.

One day she'd convince them to let her room be inside the actual attraction. Sometimes it was easy for the Glamrocks to forget they weren't actually rockstars with people willing to give them whatever they wanted with nary a snap of their brightly painted, metallic claws. They were mascots to a franchise, owned by a single human man and his band of shadowed shareholders. It was more convenient for the consuming masses to go where all the robots could be seen one right after another.

Chica sat down on the chair, close to Roxy but avoiding touching her for fear of greasing her up by accident.

“You'd run up the electricity bill again if they let you sleep there!” Chica laughed, making Roxy smile.

“Hey, you still there?” Vanessa’s voice crackled through the walkie. “I’m coming down to Parts & Service now with what we’ve got; I’ll be there in about 10 minutes.”

“Copy that! I'm with the others.” The dayshift guard walked away to answer her boss, giving the robots some room to have their own conversation while she paced. “Could you check the Daycare for the attendant on your way? I couldn't find him anywhere.”

Hopefully someone had been able to locate the lanky, sky-themed robot—and even better, hopefully he didn’t need and repairs like the rest of the crew. It’d be double-weird to see him out of his natural habitat.

“Rodger that—I’ll swing by the Daycare and see if I can find him,” Vanessa replied. “Over and out.”

The walkie clicked off, and the night guard changed direction to head for the Daycare, grumbling to herself as she did so. Man did she have one hell of a headache…

Freddy chuckled more at Chica’s statement, nodding in agreement. He moved to stand in the cylinder facing her and Roxy, leaning casually against the window with arms still crossed behind his back. It was already easier to interact with the girls now that they were together, their natural ability to get along infectious.

“The raceway is certainly one of the most entertaining attractions in the Pizzaplex, I must admit,” Freddy had to concede, then flashed Roxy what could only be considered a smug grin. “Although Fazer Blast is a close competitor in terms of guest enjoyment.”

Each animatronic had their own attraction, and though Fazer Blast was arguably the least themed to its animatronic, it was technically Freddy’s. Despite the unfortunate encounter that Mike and Gregory had inside the arena last night, Freddy still held a sense of pride for the game itself.

Roxy subtly sent a smirk Freddy’s way. She couldn’t deny that kids were always begging their parents to buy the two for one party passes so they could go from one high-octane attraction to another.

“It’s a classic combination if you ask me. What day of go-karting isn’t complete without a few rounds of laser tag?” Roxy reasoned, letting Freddy have his kudos while reminding him who the fan favorite still belonged to.

With an indignant squawk, ever defensive about the popularity of her own attraction, Chica questioned: “What about Mazercise?!”

Roxy, at the risk of dirtying her arm, snaked it around Chica’s shoulders and squeezed the chicken into a close hug that instantly cheered her up.

“Chica, honey… No one likes mazes and kids don’t like fitness,” Roxy said in an air of joking bluntness, though a kernel of truth may have slipped through. It made Chica laugh, playfully pushing the wolf away as she pretended to be sadder than she really was.

Coming back towards the group, Soapie clapped her hands together to gain their attention. “Alright! Who’s next for cleaning?" When Chica hid behind Roxy some, she sighed. “Please—not everyone at once.”

“I will go next,” Freddy volunteered, pushing himself off the wall to stand a little closer to the chair.

Chica's cleaning always took the longest due to her tendency to eat human food that clogged up her endoskeleton. With the literal garbage in her system she'd been chowing down on last night, she was probably going to be in that chair all day. The faster Freddy could get out of here and hide in his room, the better. He was already starting to feel anxious being away and hoped the others were doing alright—and weren't too bored, especially in Gregory's case.

“You heard the bear!” Chica went to nudge Roxy off the chair, only following suit when Roxy grasped her hand and pulled the bird along with her. Rolling her eyes, the wolf led Chica out of the safety cylinder to give Freddy and the guard room to work.

“Thanks for volunteering, Freddy. I'll try to be as quick as possible. I've just got to strap down your arms; you know protocol,” Soapie told him, patting the seat as a signal for Freddy to relax before she walked to the command terminal inside the workspace. Entering a few prompts, she allowed the cleaning program to load. Programming and major repairs were saved for the trained technicians, but with Soapie’s level of experience she was well-equipped to run a basic cleaning protocol and replace a few limbs.

“Hey, you don't mind if I ask a few questions, do you?” she asked, her whispery voice coming off amiably enough. Despite Freddy telling her that his memory eluded him, she still had a few burning inquiries she at least had to try and get an answer to.

“Not at all,” Freddy replied easily, relaxing against the chair. He was used to these cleanings and wasn't bothered with being strapped down, save for the fact that he could no longer hide his new claws away. He noticed Chica's eyes widen as she finally caught sight of them, but Freddy couldn't hear what the bird whispered to Roxy outside the cylinder.

He tried not to grimace. What must they think of him, seeing their missing friend's claws attached and functional on another's body? And Roxy didn't even know Monty was missing yet...

Despite their constant competition, underneath it all Roxy and Monty were fierce friends who would protect each other until the end of time. Hopefully she wouldn't lose her cool and try to confront Freddy as soon as he stepped out of the protective cylinder.

Trying to ignore these thoughts, he glanced at Soapie with an easy smile.

“I will answer any questions as I am able to, although I believe my memory banks have been damaged,” Freddy reminded the guard gently. If she asked anything he didn't want to answer, he'd simply claim that he couldn't.

Soapie ordered a sanitation prompt through the terminal. Robotic arms came down to power wash away specs of dirt in fierce, pointed streams. The sanitizer evaporated quickly so as not to settle inside the robot’s casing and cause rust damage. When Freddy reminded her that his memory was faint, she nodded, watching as Roxy walked Chica away from the sight of Freddy's mismatched hands.

“So... You don't remember how Monty's hands got on your arms?” she asked tentatively, her voice and tone delicate as not to make it seem like she was accusing him. She was just anxious to get to the bottom of it all.

After the washing prompt ended, it was onto removal and replacement of Monty's claws. They needed to match Freddy’s hands back with his model before Vanessa saw and had a fit. The last thing anyone needed was to stress out the harried night guard further than she already was.

Freddy resisted the urge to groan aloud as Monty’s claws were unceremoniously detached. It was a good idea to equip him with “weapons” that could break through extra gates in theory, but their plans had gotten so detailed by the Fazer Blast fiasco last night, they hadn’t even gotten to use them.

Good to note that if day staff caught Freddy with any upgrades, they’d be swiftly removed. He wasn’t opposed to switching out more parts if absolutely necessary to further ensure Gregory’s safety, but they’d need to be cautious of how visible any new additions to his body were. In response to the question, Freddy shook his head, feigning the best look of innocent confusion he could muster.

“No, I… I do not know how I came in possession of them. I do not really remember interacting with Montgomery at all last night.” He frowned, as if thinking hard. “I saw him in Rockstar Row at the beginning of the night shift, but after that it is all a blank.”

As familiar blue-clawed replacement paws were attached to his arms, Freddy looked to the guard with an apologetic smile. “I am sorry I could not be of more help.”

It was notoriously difficult to tell when a robot was lying. So much so in fact that Soapie decided Freddy had been telling the truth from the start. After all, he was the most responsible one—she couldn’t remember a time the well-behaved bear ever got in trouble like his companions. Now that the bug wasn't actively happening, she was sure Freddy wasn't going to lie in some vain attempt at keeping the status quo.

Soapie shrugged, wiring and calibrating his hand with the skill and delicacy of someone with years of experience under their belt.

“Don't sweat it, Fred,” she replied easily, trusting the bear completely. “I know you'd tell us if something was wrong.”

Soon enough Freddy's restraints lifted, and she gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Just don't do anything too stressful today, okay? We're going to have the programmers look into the latest software update. Hopefully we'll get this under control soon.”

“Thank you,” Freddy said with a smile, flexing his oh so familiar hands as he was ushered out of the cylinder. “I plan to stay in my room all day, so—”

“Oh my god, I am so done with all these stupid malfunctions!” Vanessa’s exasperated yell made everyone turn as she stomped into the room.

To put it bluntly: she looked like a damn mess. Her clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, and her hair wasn’t much better, frizzy pieces sticking out of her usually tight ponytail with reckless abandon. Her face was pale from lack of water and proper nutrition, contrasting sharply with the dark bags under her eyes. The most noticeable thing, however, was the makeshift sling of gauze holding her left arm securely against her chest. Her shirt sleeve was pushed up to reveal bandages wrapped from hand to elbow, and her wince of pain signaled that it hurt.

“We found Sun—he was huddled in a corner of the Daycare under one of the floodlights,” Vanessa explained to the dayshift guard. She heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose with her non-injured hand. “He’s being weird, too—refused to let us check him out unless we moved him to a place where there was no chance of the lights going off… so some of the techs are looking him over in the main lobby where there’s natural light.”

The night guard let out an incredulous snort. “That psycho literally crawled up a wall when we brought up checking over Moon, too! We’ve gotta figure out a way to get to him sometime but that’s a problem for the techs to figure out, not me.”

Another sigh escaped her lips, the weariness starting to catch up to her. If she wanted to be awake for her shift tonight, she’d need to take a long nap and get some food soon. Vanessa looked towards the animatronic trio, narrowing her eyes at the state of them all. “Anyway, that’s my update—what going on with those three?”

Soapie had half a mind to tell her boss to maybe relax a little in front of the clearly traumatized robots—what stopped her was the sling Vanessa did not have on yesterday. Had she known Ness was hurt on the job, she probably wouldn't have asked the woman to stay and help figure out the issues with day shift.

“Found Freddy with Monty's claws on him,” she whispered her way. It felt strange reporting on the AIs when they were right there, judging what she said in an eerily similar way to a human. It was her job though, so she cleared her throat and went on diligently. “He doesn't remember how they got on his arms. Chica is full of garbage. Plastic knives, ripped up pizza boxes, solo cups and something that looks like cheese?”

Soapie cringed as she thought about the gross smell it was going to make when scooped out of her. She already reeked—actually, all of them except for Freddy had a pretty foul stink attached to them. It was a particular odor that gave her a headache when she thought too hard on its origins.

"Ness—I didn't realize you hurt your arm...,” Soapie remarked gently. She wasn't one to pry, though it only allowed worry to go through her mind as she imagined the terrible potential of what occurred last night if a human got injured in the chaos—or God forbid something was going on in Vanessa's home life.

“Huh? Oh, yeah…” Vanessa glanced down at her arm with a grimace. “Yeah, I… fell down some stairs last night—landed right on my wrist in the worst way. I’m gonna get it checked out soon, I just had to get all this shit done first.”

Normally Vanessa wouldn’t lie about such things as a major injury, but she’d been doing a good job of keeping her amnesiac blackouts under wraps to everyone but her therapists. She couldn’t risk damaging her career even more if she revealed to those she was supposed to be supervising that she couldn’t remember most of her night shift activities… She’d already been transferred locations in the Fazbear company a few times and didn’t want to go through another adjustment period—or worse, be straight up fired.

Freddy tried to ignore the guards as they talked, though he was secretly listening with rapt interest. That was certainly not what happened to Vanessa’s wrist last night, but the bear wasn’t about to correct her. Whatever motives she had for lying to her coworkers, Freddy didn’t feel the need to concern himself with. Instead, he stayed back until he saw an opportunity when he could interject and ask to return to his room. While he waited, he felt Roxy and Chica’s accusing and confused gazes fixed on him.

“I do not know how that happened,” the bear said, holding up his hands to indicate he knew exactly what those looks were for. “I woke up from sleep mode this morning, and my claws were not my own. I am… sorry you both had to see me like that.”

Roxy was like stone, frozen in disbelief while holding onto her friend’s shoulders. Chica was hunched slightly, averting her sad gaze as if she’d been caught whispering to Roxy when Freddy glanced over.

Roxy told Chica that she was sure it had to be due to the programming bug. Freddy just had the worst of it—after all, he’d fallen over on stage. That sort of incident could cause all kinds of internal injuries, and even mess with their self-reporting software. Freddy must’ve been in a worse state than they were last night, to not remember swapping body parts.

(And how, exactly, had he gotten those new claws attached? That was a whole other can of worms.)

Chica knew she couldn't entirely blame him. It would be hypocritical. Though the thought that Freddy of all people was capable of something like that had deeply affected her.

“Monty will be fine—” Roxy reminded everyone. “—like... When he's all found. I trust you, Freddy.” Trying to apply good peer pressure, she gave Chica an encouraging squeeze to say something.

When Chica's hand covered the paw resting on her shoulder, she nodded in agreement. “Right. Uh—it was just really... Shocking. Like Soapie said—”

“Sophie,” the day guard interrupted with a roll of her eyes. “Honestly, they misspell my name one time in the staff logs and no one can get it right…”

“—Yeah, her. Anyway, the programmers will fix up our code before the day’s out.”

“Yes, I am sure they will,” Freddy agreed with a confident smile, despite his complete lack of confidence in this statement.

The virus infecting his friends had already burrowed its way deep into their coding—not to mention the whole supernatural aspect to this entire situation. He doubted a few hours of running software debug programs would be enough to truly fix what was wrong. Not until William Afton was destroyed and could no longer bend others to his will through nothing more than a simple command.

“Speaking of that,” Vanessa chimed in, looking over at the robots. “Freddy and Roxy, you stay here until the programmers get here. Chica, they’ll work on you once you’re all cleaned up.” The woman grimaced at the state of the bird, not hiding her disgust with how much of a mess Chica had made of herself. “Once your software's been updated, I want you all to go back to your rooms and stay there. I’ll be back to check on you guys during night shift. Got it?”

“Of course, Officer Vanessa,” Freddy nodded quickly, the perfect picture of obedience. Underneath this veneer, his metaphorical skin crawled at the thought of Ness returning for another night. If she just stayed away, maybe she wouldn’t fall under William’s influence again, and then they’d have one less threat to deal with.

But then again, maybe the rabbit was simply just in her head now. Freddy had no way to tell.

“You got it, 'Nessa!” Chica replied.

Roxy backed away from her friend and nodded her understanding. Normally she'd take her warnings with a grain of salt, but tonight was different. Who knew how Freddy was going to react. It could be her disassembled at the raceway tonight, maybe this time with her eyes plucked out... She'd rather not think of that—or to paint one of her close friends as someone so willfully violent.

That wasn't him. It was just a glitch.

“You should go home,” Sophie remarked, meekly suggesting for Vanessa to take it easy. “Get your arm checked, too. I... won't tell anyone you got hurt if you don't want me to.”

She decided it was better to comply. It was clear that Vanessa didn't want compensation due to the clear state that the robots were in. It'd probably piss management off to no end to hear that the understaffing around here wasn't working to their benefit. “I'll stay here until they're done with the Daycare attendant.”

From the sounds of Sun's distress, it was going to take a while until he was pacified. Then they could screw around with his brain a bit and get it over with for the rest of the band.

Vanessa heaved a sigh. “Yeah… I’ve gotta get out of here for a bit. Thanks.”

She gave Sophie a pat on the shoulder with her good hand. Then she narrowed her eyes and made an “I’m watching you” gesture to the animatronics before turning on her heel and heading out to temporary freedom.

***

It didn’t take as long as expected for the programmers to arrive. They decided to start with Freddy, since thanks to the mismatched limbs he was considered the one in need of most immediate care out of the four haywire animatronics they could locate. Though Freddy was relieved to get out of there before everyone else, the dark irony of him being the most volatile animatronic wasn’t lost on the bear.

After nearly another hour in the chair wherein the programmers checked and rebooted every software system they could think of, Freddy was cleared to return to his room. Staff had opted to leave Safe Mode on for obvious reasons, which suited the bear just fine—the less chance of him being somehow influenced by William, the better. With one more reassuring smile to Roxy and Chica, Freddy headed back to his room, trying not to seem too eager to do so.

***

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Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

[yhwhrulz]

Charles Spurgeon's "Morning & Evening" Devotional for August 26

Morning

“Ye shall keep my Sabbaths.”

Matthew 12:1-21

Matthew 12:1

Not from any idle feeling of passing away time, but because of necessity, the disciples took ears of corn to eat as they passed through the fields. This they were allowed to do by the Jewish law, and no one found fault with them for it, only it happened to be the Sabbath, and therefore the Pharisees renewed the old quarrel.

Matthew 12:2

One would have thought that it was surely permissible to relieve hunger on the Sabbath; but the Pharisees made it out to be an act of harvesting, and even of threshing when they saw them rub the ears in their hands. Some men are great at making much ado about nothing.

Matthew 12:3 , Matthew 12:4

Necessity has no law. It was never intended that men should die of hunger in order to preserve the sanctity of a day.

Matthew 12:5 , Matthew 12:6

Works done for God are commendable on the Sabbath, and if the Lord himself was present, and had not blamed his disciples, it was not for others to complain.

Matthew 12:7 , Matthew 12:8

God has not intended the fourth commandment to be used cruelly, so as to forbid the doing of that which is absolutely needful. The institution of the Sabbath is under the power of Jesus, the Lord of love, and is not a burden, but a delight.

Matthew 12:13

Thus he emphatically showed the true position of the Sabbath, and his own resolve not to be bound in the fetters of Jewish tradition with regard to it.

Matthew 12:14-19

But when Jesus knew it, he withdrew himself from thence: going to the borders of the sea of Gennesaret

Matthew 12:14-19

He neither sought popularity nor controversy.

Matthew 12:20

He left those fuming Pharisees, and the weak reeds of scribes and doctors, till a future time, not caring utterly to quench or crush their broken power.

Matthew 12:21

Quiet as he was, he is our hope and joy, and our soul rests upon him.

Help us, through good report and ill,

Our daily cross to bear;

Like thee, to do our Father’s will,

Our brethren’s griefs to share.

Let grace our selfishness expel,

Our earthliness refine;

And kindness in our bosoms dwell,

As free and true as thine.

Evening

“There went virtue out of him.”

Luke 6:12-36

Luke 6:12

And it came to pass in those days, while he was by the sea, near Capernaum

Luke 6:12

It was his wont to spend a season in special prayer before any great act of his life. He was about to send out the first missionaries, but he would do nothing till he had prayed.

Luke 6:17-19

Now was another great opportunity for preaching, and our Lord availed himself of it. We now find him delivering the Sermon on the Plain which, in many points, resembles the Sermon on the Mount. It has four beatitudes and four woes, and repeats in almost the same words the former discourse.

Luke 6:20

Poor though they were, they were his disciples, and were poor in spirit as well as in pocket, and therefore blessed. We must understand all these beatitudes spiritually, or we shall make grave mistakes.

Luke 6:24

For the most part those who are rich despise religion. “Gold and the gospel seldom do agree,” says Bunyan.

Luke 6:25

If satisfied with earth’s good things, they will soon be gone, and eternal want will follow.

Luke 6:25

To spend life in frivolous mirth and gaiety is to store up sorrow.

Luke 6:26

Dangerous then is the position of the favourite of mankind. If the ungodly mass love a man, God loves him not.

Luke 6:27-30

Better suffer any loss than wrangle and go to courts of law, where indeed one is apt to increase his loss rather than repair it.

Luke 6:32-36

This noble godlike principle of doing good without prospect of return should be better exhibited by professed Christians than it is. Let it be our prayer that we may act by its rule.

Copyright Statement This resource was produced before 1923 and therefore is considered in the "Public Domain".

[clubatsumu]

saw ur requests were open and wanted to maybe request smth w tsukishima or atsumu, like established relationship and (i'm searching but can't find the right word for it) boring? but like in a familiar and comforting way if you get what i mean? 😭 like yk that feeling u get sometimes where u feel like ur life is stuck at like this one point and u feel a weird need to have it be Exciting and Fun and Fast Paced! i forget often that you don't need to be constantly progressing to be satisfied

im so sorry this request got kind of rambly pls interpret this however u would like :)

(+i'm glad you're back on tumblr <3)

atsumu turns 29 and suddenly he’s domesticated. like an animal — he’d insist on tiger, but all his bravado really amounts to is the waddle of a fattened beagle.

you take home Fattened Beagle (literal) in question one day and Fattened Beagle (man) slams the door in your face with a look of disgust and an emphatic, solid, “no.”

you rap your fist on the door. your door. your door that is used in your house with your name on the lease. “but i already named him!”

“i’m not takin’ care of a dog!” atsumu replies from behind the wood and screen. “nothin’ good comes outta takin’ care of a dog.”

“oh, but i take care of you!”

that earns you a look at his face because he comes out to open his mouth. and before he can say anything, you bust out laughing. that sours his expression even more. you adjust Fattened Beagle in your hands, cradling it like a baby, presenting it like a prize — which it is. you smile, and then blink slowly, knowing he is weak and you are winning. “he was yaga-san’s. his name is haru.”

atsumu scoffs. “what a stupid name.”

you cover the beagle’s ears, which are large, you think with wonder. they’re large and flappy and floppy — like wings without any aeronautical structure. “don’t listen to the grumpy man, haru-chan.”

“you never call me atsumu-chan.”

oh, what a kid.

you kick the back of his knee. “because you’re not sweet.”

it proves difficult. you have to bend your ankle at a degree that pushes your foot back up your leg, then you have to go on your tiptoes because more than he’s tall, there’s also a two-step difference between the inside of the house and outside of it. atsumu yelps and trips a bit, genuinely -- not as an act -- and it’s all worth it. 

“stop comparing me to the dog,” he grumbles.

“stop living in my house for free.”

“we’re married.”

you’re sure you’ll be greeted by a sock on the floor when you enter the house. a sock with a lost pair. everytime you ask him where the other one is, he shrugs like he isn’t the one responsible for where his feet go, why they aren’t going to places together. you let out a large sigh. “everyday i am reminded.”

atsumu is more disoriented than usual. he points at the dog. “how old is…”

you adjust him in your arms. “he’s two.”

he takes haru-chan from you, sensing your strained shoulders. he finally, finally let’s you in the house. and there is the sock. you bend to pick it up and toss it in the laundry room. “what did i tell you about --”

“i’ve always wanted a dog.” he cuts loudly, knowing where you’re about to go.

as planned, you lose your original train of thought. you nod, starting to smile again, forgetting all about the sock and starting to get excited because he’ll say yes to the dog. you haven’t even told yaga-san you’d take him for good, just out for a walk, knowing there’s a chance atsumu might say no. but if he says yes, you won’t complain. “i heard something along those lines as well.”

“you could have asked me before so we could’a picked one together.”

“i did.” you blink slowly, making your eyes large and innocent. “last night.”

“i was drunk," he deadpans.

“and you told me to get anythin’ i wanted, because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. light and joy and happiness. darlin’! i would give you the sun if you asked for it!” you cough something raspy out of your throat. atsumu is unamused. you shake your head, leaning closer. “what did rin feed you last night?”

“no clue. something dark and fruity and disgusting. like we were still college students and shit.”

you scrunch your nose. “ew. how’d you get home?”

“cab. it was midnight and i didn’t want to wake you.”

“but you did.” it was hard not to wake up when the front door all but slammed on its frame. atsumu is a large man by anyone’s standards, and a large man stumbling up the steps isn’t exactly inspiring confidence when it’s dark out and past midnight. 

so you grabbed your bat, and there he was in all his blond glory, smiling like a stupid idiot, ears red from the cold, in the hallway outside your room, murmuring declarations of love. 

“i didn’t want you to drive out.” he tells you now. now that you can take a better look at him, he does look like he had a rough night. his sweatpants are hanging low on his hips, his shirt crumpled. his eyes are red and he looks pale. “anyway, this is what i get for going to suna’s birthday party. a stinky-ass dog. jesus.” he sniffs its belly, and haru-chan stays still. “ya ever heard of body spray? probably not. come on. out. let’s try to make you smell less like shit.”

.

“we’re takin’ the dog back to the pound.” he says later that night. he didn’t talk to you the whole day, even after you made him hangover soup, but you guessed that was just an aftereffect of everything related to Suna Rintaro’s Big Birthday Bash. but maybe not. you blink, looking at him from the bathroom mirror as he leans on the door behind you. “huh?” you effectively stop brushing your teeth. this is… a surprise.

“yeah. final.” he says in that clipped tone he seems to get on when he's pissed off or inside his head.

“oh.” your brows furrow. was he menstruating? because last you saw him, we was gushing over the dog -- practically drooling more than it was. how did it turn around this quickly? “um. okay.”

he leaves.

atsumu comes back a second later, stomping. “don’t think of wallowing.”

the fuck was he on?

he can be a little bitch all he wants, but really? really, you can do it better.

“i’m not,” you deny, starting to get pissed at the attitude, putting the cap back on your toothbrush with more force than necessary. “who said i was?” you move past him and out of the bathroom, and out of the bedroom in easy steps. 

he follows you down the stairs. “where are ya goin’?”

“away from you.” you let the door slam as you go the the makeshift playpen he set up for the haru-chan in the garage.

“quit wallowing.”

“i’m not. i’m taking the dog back to the pound. like you said. final.” you stomp like he did. there is, admittedly, a fair amount of stomping in your house. annoyance starts from your gut and spreads to your spine, and now it is thrumming through your veins like a steady dose of adrenaline.

“quit bein' that way.”

“you quit being that way.” you swivel on your heels. “you’ve been mean to me all day. what’s wrong with you?”

“i didn’t want the dog.”

he could have started with that this morning. but he was grudgingly happy, you saw, so maybe this is about another thing entirely. “you’ve been with the dog all day!”

“well...”

“i got the dog for you ‘cause i knew you had one when you were a kid. osamu told me you loved dogs -- so i wondered -- sorry if i thought wrong--”

“you weren’t wrong.”

“we weren’t even supposed to keep him overnight. i had to text yaga-san to let me keep him for a bit longer because i’d told him i’d just take him out for a walk. but then you went off and bathed him and played with him all day, so of course i decided to just tell you tomorrow that the dog isn’t actually ours yet because you’re having a shit enough day as it is.”

you swear, the look on atsumu's face cannot be drawn or captured. it was pure distress and devasatation, curling the ends of his lips and drooping his ears. “so haru-chan isn’t really ours?”

you almost scratch your head in frustration. “i thought you wanted him back in the pound?”

“you brought home a dog that isn’t ours?” he repeats.

“i thought you’d turn him away if you really didn’t want him. but he was supposed to be a present if you did. so do you?”

“do i what?”

“want the dog.”

“no.” he answers.

you open your palms, gesturing at the dog he's cradling to his chest as it starts to bark at the commotion. “then give me the dog so i can give him back.”

“no.” he replies.

you gape. “what is going on with you?”

.

late -- later, he comes inside the room with silent steps, and you shuffle closer to your end of the bed. atsumu's footsteps aren’t the only ones there. he brought the beagle to your bedroom. the bed dips with a familiar weight along with something small and skittish, laying beside your back, between you and atsumu. 

“i can’t hold my drinks anymore.” he says into the room, knowing you’re probably awake. probably. most likely.

okay, but what does it have to do with the dog?

“you never have.” you grumble.

“yeah, but... it’s -- rin’s still the same as he used to be. no care in the world. a fuckin’ airhead if there was one." he continues, “the younger players in the mix were all there... i’m getting closer to retirement.”

there it is. the real reason rears its head, sprouting from a mouth you wanted to punch so much earlier. all the fight and the annoyance flushes out of your body at hearing the word retirement, because no one said that word around atsumu the same way no one said the word fuck around a baby.

still -- you knew what you were dealing with when you married atsumu, all moods and barbs and blundering words. you love him for his sincerity, for his candor, for everything really. and putting up with you isn't an easy task either, you know all too well, but atsumu does it with genuine pleasure.

even if you saw him take his fears out on the dog, it's scary to realize you still love him the same. you love him differently than when you first met, and you know you'll love him differently ten years from now, but the only thing that's sure is that there will never come a day when you don't love atsumu.

and so, in the spirit of love, you forgive him even if his apology doesn't come in the form of a sorry.

“aren’t there forty year olds in your team?” you try.

“they’re all almost seven feet, so they can play until they’re eighty, probably. me? i can’t do that, babe. i need to be the fastest one on that court and i’ll be a whole lot slower soon. i can feel it. my legs'll be slower than my brain, my sets'll all turn to shit --”

“hey.”

“‘s true.”

“when do you plan on retiring? and you have a plan for it when it comes, i know.”

“never, i hoped. i was twenty-three when i last thought about it. six years flew by like nothin'. and i do have a plan, believe me, i just didn’t think i’d ever reach a point where i’d need it.”

the admittance settles between the two of you like an uncomfortable weight.

“and?” you prompt, knowing there's still something he hasn't said.

“i like it here.” he tells you. he looks at you as he does it, head turning on the pillow. you aren't quite sure what he means, so your brows furrow as you reply, “i’d hope so.”

“no, i mean — i’m satisfied here. with ya." he swallows. "if someone wanted me to pick between this and stayin’ twenty-three and invinsible forever, i’d pick this over and over again without blinkin’. and it’s scary, because my job -- it revolves around bein’ young enough and fast enough and -- this...”

it cleaves your chest, what he says. it makes it squeeze in a way only atsumu has the power to do.

“i know.” you nod. “i know.”

“the dog was the icing on the cake. i thought it last night, but this morning? when you were holdin' it? i swear i felt... like something's changed. something's been changing. and ya know how i am with that. i like this dog too much.” haru-chan sleeps between you. "and i always thought people who had dogs are... settled, ya know. secure. 's why i never got any in the past. who'd feed it at away games? what if it forgets my face?"

you let out a half-hearted smile. “i knew you liked it.”

“you mad?” he asks.

“no. you still have a few years left in you.”

“yeah. but -- if i’m not playing on that court, what am i really?”

the end of the sentence comes out so meek, so low, it hurts you so much, drives a dagger into your chest and twists so slowly that tears spring at the corner of your eyes. and to think you were pissed as hell at him earlier, stomping on floors and banging doors. but then again, that seems to be a language the two of you have no problem sharing, and the end always leads to resolution.

you move closer to him, squishing the dog closer in the caged parenthesis of him and you, and atsumu's arm reaches out as a fingertip skims where your hair meets your temple. this is nice. quiet is nice. and sometimes, you've learned, nothing matters outside the parenthesis.

you met atsumu when you were young. he was a loudmouthed prick with a bad dye-job and you were the only person who was as much of an asshole as he was. and the years spanning in between, somehow, someway, after working and re-working and growing up and growing some more, the two of you ended up in this two storey house in a town twenty minutes away from the city, with a nice breeze and south facing windows in the kitchen, and a backyard that's big enough for a dog, and maybe, just maybe, a couple of kids.

a house of boring people. people who, six years ago, would have made you look at each other with an identical curl in the bridge of your noses.

you and atsumu thrived by jabbing at each other best you can, verbal pinches and pricks, but sometimes, you remember atsumu is a man with a heart of gold, something so soft that you want to protect it with everything you are.

you get those people now. you know he does too. and something in that acceptance was the change that was so slow and gradual he was talking about, that when you try to pinpoint where everything shifted, you'd have to pick at the whole timeline.

“what are you without volleyball?" you say softly. everything will change again too, once he retires, but that's for later. "well. a pain in my ass is one. if you're worrying about what to do, you can always fix the shed. wash the dog. and i like that you don’t have to be so far away half the year anymore. i miss you when you're not around, you know. and you can admit you like taking things slow, and then you can quit the full throttle mode you’ve been operating at your whole life, because i can see that it’s tiring you out now. you can take things slow, and i'll still be here, however you need me, and you'll figure it out like you always do with everything.”

you swallow a lump in your throat, palm brushing haru-chan's fur as atsumu's palm brushes your hair.

“you can be just atsumu. not musubi’s sexy setter — god, i hate that nickname. i hate it so much, tsumu.” you laugh.

"'course you would," he replies, and you can hear a bit of ease in his voice that wasn't there earlier.

you swallow, looking him in the eyes. you see yourself there, in the same place, ten, twenty, fifty years from now, and you find that it doesn't bother you at all, the banality of it, the predicatbility of how it'll go. the thought of you loving him as long as you can fills you with so much comfort.

“my atsumu. you’ve always been my atsumu. it won’t be anything different at all.”

[youwouldntbelievehowigothere]

Hello, hello! For the prompts: What about something where Link and Zelda try to hide their relationship (but everyone knows they are together anyway)? :)

Loved your zelink week stuff!

Glad you enjoyed it! I decided to go with pre-Skyward Sword, just because I’d never never seen a secret relationship fic for them done before.

The two former best friends sat next to each other in the classroom all alone together. Perhaps former best friends wasn’t the correct term. Maybe best friends plus, or something more to that effect was more accurate. Since Link would still count her as his best friend, just now they… 

Well, they were going out. He wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened. 

One day they’d been walking around skyloft, and Zelda had been complaining that Groose kept bothering her about the wing ceremony. Zelda had been chosen last year to represent Hylia at the end of the Knight ceremony, and Link didn’t think anyone better could’ve been chosen.

“I’m more focused on the costume right now, rather than the uh, gift,” she said, keeping the ‘gift’ rather vague. 

“Isn’t the goddess costume already made?” he asked.

“Well, yes, but I thought I’d try and make a new one. The old one… it’s just sort of worn out, don’t you think?”

Link didn’t have a strong opinion on it. But Zelda was good at sewing, so he trusted her judgment. “Have you started the gift at least?”

“I’ve been working on it since I found out!” she exclaimed, “but if I only worked on it I’d go crazy! Besides, it’s not like Groose is going to win the Wings Ceremony.”

Link kept quiet. Normally, he might protest the cruel words, but Link really didn’t want him to win the race. He didn’t want someone else to get the gift Zelda had worked so hard on. Even if it were someone who didn’t bully him, he might remain quiet. 

“Because you’re going to win, right?” she continued, her voice a degree quieter. 

He nodded. He planned on it. 

She let out a sigh. 

“I’m going to try my hardest,” he said at last, “though I am sort of…”

“You’re what?” she pressed.

“I’m,” his face became warm, and he avoided her gaze. He was remembering something a knight from a few years back had said. “I’m sort of glad you’re giving something that’s an object.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, I’d heard a knight saying how his year, the gift wasn’t done, so the woman playing the goddess, she, well, she kissed him.” Link hid under his bangs. “They’re married now, so I guess it worked out…”

Zelda was quiet for a few moments before asking, “So you’re glad you wouldn’t have to kiss me?”

“No!” Link nearly shouted. The excitement in his voice drew a few looks. He grabbed her hand to pull her along, hoping she wasn’t noticing how sweaty it was. When they finally got to a more secluded location, where the wind whipped their words off and saw from Skyloft, he continued emphatically, “No. I… I wouldn’t want someone else to kiss you.”

She tilted her head.

“If you didn’t want. I mean, you wouldn’t do that if you didn’t want to and–”

“Link, are you saying you’d be okay if it was you I kissed?”

Was he? Was he?! Kissing her had only been the object of many a stray thought and fantasy. Thoughts and fantasies that were highly inappropriate to have about a friend. Why did he say that? He was worse than Groose. But he couldn’t lie to her! 

Avoiding her eye, he nodded. 

“Link, look at me,” she said and slowly he dragged his gaze to meet hers. He was surprised by the blush that rested on her cheeks and the determined expression she wore. It was honestly very cute on her. 

In a flash she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Link froze; He’d never been kissed before. She drew back and Link was sure he was going to combust. Before she could say anything, he pulled her into a hug. They’d hugged before, of course, but something was different now. He couldn’t bear her to see his probably lame reaction. 

“Link?” she squeaked.

His face was in her hair, and he couldn’t help but notice how nice it smelled. Gah! He was probably being such a weirdo!

But she wrapped her arms around him right back, and one carded through his hair. 

“Zelda,” he murmured, not sure how to express himself. He decided to repeat what she’d accused him of earlier. “I only want you to kiss me.”

She giggled, but before he could feel embarrassed she said, “deal, but only if you promise only to kiss me back.”

Never before had he made an easier deal. 

She pulled back and looked at him expectantly. Link kissed her then, perhaps a little harder than she did. Their teeth clacked and they both pulled away.

“I guess we need more practice,” she said, and Link felt at ease. 

They hadn’t talked about it after that, not in concrete terms. In Link’s mind they were together like a couple courting, but they’d never said as much. They also never told anyone else what had changed. 

Link didn’t want to keep a secret, but when he hardly knew what was going on, he certainly didn’t want others in on it!

And so some weeks later they sat in the empty classroom going over wind structures and patterns for the final test of the quarter. They used to study in each other’s rooms, but that changed once they reached a certain age. It wasn’t proper, her father had said. Zelda had protested greatly, but Link hadn’t. He wanted Zelda’s father to like him. 

Under the table, she stepped playfully on his feet as she always had, but now she would look up and wink on occasion. It was highly distracting. 

In the quiet calm of the classroom, Link decided something.

He was going to marry her. Someday, at least. As the sun trickled onto her golden hair, he thought her not needing a costume to be the goddess incarnate. She was beautiful. 

…

Little did he know, but she had come to the same conclusion months before while he practiced with the sword. 

…

Now he stood in the empty classroom, alone, but not alone together. 

He was resting and restocking before going down to tackle another temple, another trial. He didn’t know why he had wandered into the room. There was nothing for him there. 

“Oh, Link, I’d heard you’d come back,” Headmaster Gaepora said, entering the room. “How long are you staying?”

Link honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead. He’d been planning to pass out for a few hours, grab a health potion, repair his shield, and then head back down, but he’d been stuck in one spot for what felt like forever. 

He just wanted to see her again. 

Gaepora pulled out a chair and sat, pulling out the chair beside him and gesturing for Link to sit. Link complied and stared at his hands clasped before him on the table.

“You look like someone with much on his mind,” the headmaster said, “and while I won’t kiss you better like my daughter would’ve, you can tell me all that you wish.”

Link looked up, rather shocked Zelda’s father would say such a thing. 

“Don’t look so surprised son,” he said, “It has always been a matter of when, not if with you two. No father wants his child to grow up, but you’re a good lad.” He set a comforting hand on Link’s shoulder. “My only hope is you can bring her back and I can give you my blessing properly when the time comes.”

Link felt his face color. He was a mix of embarrassment, melancholy, and hope. 

“I’m going to get her back,” he said, a vow to himself and the world. 

Gaepora nodded and squeezed Link’s shoulder. The touch was grounding, and Link finally threw off the indecision and sadness that had halted his movements. 

Quietly, he thanked Gaepora and stood to try and rest for a few hours. The short walk had his sluggish brain going over a few of the odd interactions over the past few weeks. The sad looks and quiet words of encouragement. Of course, being friends was more than enough motivation for Link to feel the need to help Zelda, but with the new closeness they’d held… Well, it put the sympathy in a new light. 

Once in his room, he threw off his shield and pack, leaving his boots and hat on, and fell face first onto his bed. He was out nearly immediately.

[wizkiddx]

Hiii I really love your work! Could you write about Tom secretly or not secretly watching yoi have a Zoom Uni class? And maybe he teases you in a way, trying to make you laugh or he sends you text messages or something? And later when you're done and he has a meeting,you tease him right back?

Hope you're having a lovely day 💞

a/n hey anon!! this was a really cute idea but I have another req for the vice versa bit, so only did the first half in this- I hope u don't mind :)

warnings: implied smut at the end but rlly just a fluffy cringe fest

////////////////////////////////////////

Early mornings where never you’re favourite and this one wasn’t an exception to the rule. The LA sun was flooding through the curtains that had been hurriedly thrown almost-closed last night as you huffed into the duvet. You needed to get up - but you definitely didn’t want to. To be fair, you’d only arrived the day before and were still acclimatising to the jet lag - though Tom’s presence certainly made everything alot easier.

Especially as you’d been without him for so long, the pandemic meaning you hadn’t been able to make the long-weekend trips you usually would’ve. So when at the beginning of may, Tom had offered for you to come out and stay with him for half the summer (while he was busy working). There was only really one answer…. free holiday with the absolute specimen of a human who you call your boyfriend? Yes please.

It did mean though, that you had flown out before the end of the semester. Only by a week and it didn’t make much difference because you only had a few zoom lectures - but they were compulsory. So even if you were living in the US, you had to follow your UK school timetable. Hence why you had to get up at 6:30, to make your UK time 14:30 lecture.

The arms around you seemed to have other ideas, huffing and only pulling you tighter when you tried to wriggle out of his embrace. You groaned in annoyance, mainly because he was making it more and more tempting to stay huddled up against him.

“Toooooommm I gotta get up” Clearly not agreeing, he just squeezed you to his chest tighter, whilst emphatically shaking his head - all with his eyes still firmly pressed shut.

“Let go! I have a lecture!” Still not letting up , he just shook his head once again - making his bed hair especially wild as it dragged against the linen pillows.

With a sigh you turned in his death grip, now being able to see his puffy morning eyes pressed firmly shut. First you arched up and pressed a soft kiss to his chin, then jaw and then nose.

“Seriously T, I need to show up to this one.” Because yes, you might’ve already had an absence from yesterday, where you had both slept through the alarm.

“-o it-’” Croaking so much so you couldn’t even puzzle out what he said, the man cleared his throat before trying again, the sound reverberating in his chest. “ uhmm do it from bed, don’t go.”

That had you pouting at his cuteness. Ever since you’d arrived he’d been unbelievable clingy to you, barely letting you out of his sight. You showered together; he sat and stared whilst you did your skin care routine; even at restaurants he insisted on sitting next to you with his hand on your knee. When you had asked him, the only reasoning you got was a shrug and a muttered ‘I missed you’. Never, ever would you complain about Tom’s attention. But…. you really needed to get to your laptop.

“I can’t babe thats not very profess-“

“-wont even be able to tell.”

As much as you tried, you couldn’t ever really deny Tom anything. Not when he cracked his eyelids open, revealing the softest warm brown eyes, coupled with a lazy smile. So yes, you ended up quickly getting changed into one of Toms old burgundy tops, running a brush through your frizzy hair and then clambering back into bed. You balanced your laptop on a tray on top of a box, so the angle was less obvious that your backdrop was a headboard. Instantly Tom had half-asleep turned over to lay his messy head on your lap. And with a half sigh half laugh, you logged on- once in the waiting room bringing a hand down to trail your nails through Tom’s hair which made him groan with delight.

It was all going so well too, up the point where breakout rooms were announced and you had to talk - your chipper voice and laughs with your course mates rousing Tom from his sleep. Every time he almost lifted his head into the view of the webcam, you were very quick to slam it back down, forcing him back onto your lap.

Eventually he got bored of the restrictions, as well as not being very into the history module you were all puzzling over- so slid out of bed into the shower. Once he was gone you did almost sigh in relief, you had thought that Tom in his friendly-idiot manner would end up getting you caught at some point. Especially as our relationship was so secretive, none of your course mates knew you weren’t single - imagine their shock if an a lister popped up in the zoom class.

But oh, the relief did not last long at all.

The issue was Harry had gone out for the day. It was just you and Tom in his fancy rented LA house. And, as mentioned, Tom was being clingy as hell. It couldn’t of been more than 20 minutes before the fluffy haired brunette was back in the room - pouting when he saw you still on the computer.

Even though you shooed him away, Tom just cocked his head to one side, a small smirk on his face. And you knew. You knew he was going to be a little shit. He slinked over the bed, perching at the foot next to where your feet lay.The warning look you shot him, metaphorical daggers coming out your eye did absolutely nothing - you watched his hand pin your right ankle down before stroking the sole of your foot. Familiar shivers shot up your leg and it took everything in you to not kick out, launching the laptop across the room as tickled you.

Soon though he stopped, you pulled yourself into a cross legged position, readjusting the laptop and trying to concentrate back on the lecturer. Seeing your disinterest, Tom hopped up off the bed and you thought he was leaving. But no. No you were wrong. He just stood at the foot of the bed, hands on hips as he appeared to listen intently to the lecturer too.

Clearly Tom was an actor, he was pretty good at accents. You should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to resist the impersonating your academic staff - who happened to have a strong Somerset accent.

Pretending to ignore Tom as he hunched up and widened his stance - to imagine the physicality of your lecturer- you narrowed your eyes at the computer screen. Then though, a deep booming farmer-like voice came out your well spoken south london boy - god you were glad you’d stuck the mute button on as soon as he had entered.

“And then as your reading in chapter twel-“

“And then as yowr readinf in chapter twelve….” Tom echoed the lecturer loud and proud, making it completely impossible for you to attempt to concentrate. As much as you wanted to be furious at him- well, all it took was one look.

He was holding his face in some sort of duck pout and all the movements were extra pronounced and exaggerated. You couldn’t help it- instantly you burst out laughing, having to turn off the video for fear of anyone noticing.

Seeing he’d got a rise out of you, Tom was only spurred on, continuing the dramatic acting with a new found confidence. That was until you got yourself under control, face turning like a switch from joy to fury.

“Shut the hell up!”

And he did, for a few minutes, whilst pouting like a told-off toddler. In a strop, he sat down, shoulders slumped at the edge of the bed. Oh how wrong your were, when you thought you’d won - with a satisfied smile concentrating back on the laptop screen. Just in time to hear the lecturer FINALLY starting to rounding up the lecture.

“Alright so next session we’re-“ Before he’d even stammered his way to the end of the sentence, Tom’s face had switched up once again - into one of mischief as he started crawling up the bed either-side of your legs. One strong arm reached out to touch the back of your laptop lid and before you could protest he was pushing it down, till it landed with a small ‘clunk’.

“You did not just do that!” Yelling at him, you sat up so now he was kneeling across your lap.

“But I just did.” He mimed a mic drop which had you cringing hard, staring at him in disbelief. Okay the lecturer was beginning to round off, but that conclusion could’ve gone on for 5 minutes at least!

“Oh you are so in for it Holland.”

You’d meant it as a threat, as a sort of ‘I’m-going-to-make-your-life-a-living-hell” but the bright eyed boy before you had other plans. Wordlessly he nodded, then placed your laptop on the bedside ; then pushed you down on the bed. His legs either side of you, his arms like rockets to pin yours either side your head.

“Ah but you see my love…” he tutted, with a wide smile, hhis breath fanning down onto you as he took your breath away. “That is exactly what I want.” Immediately his lips were on yours, the both of you fighting for dominance as you arched your head up to get extra purchase on him.

“I hate… I hate you… so bloody much” It was hard to talk when his intoxicating lips were moving against yours, melting away all your resistance.

“Hmmm… well its… its a good thing… that I love you.”

He was impossible and no doubt you’d missed the prep work for tomorrows lecture. But having him there, body pressed against yours, after months apart.

Well, you wouldn’t mind failing the module for him.

~~~~ let me know what you think <333~~~~

tag list : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala

[lazywonderlvnd]

Hi, if you are still taking prompts; A magically powerful Harry not noticing that his magic does things to make Draco happy. This can be pre-relationship or established relationship. Like it starts of with his tea being exactly as he likes and always the right temperature. Then evolves to rooms changing colour or weather changing or people being unable to invade Draco’s personal space due to an invisible barrier or something ridiculous. Btw Draco doesn’t notice as well.

anon.....you really killed me w this one. i’ve been so emo over this wyugeahrwiw might end up writing smth longer tbh bc this concept is literally the only thing that matters to me!!!!!!! i hope u enjoy i had so much fun with it ❤️❤️❤️

“Harry, you do it. Please.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“We’re fucking watching something, Draco!”

“So just pause it!”

Harry grabs the pillow on his lap and slams it onto the sofa next to him. Hermione can see dust rise in its wake. He pauses the telly. 

“Are you doing it?” Draco asks hopefully. Harry scowls at him. 

“Well you won’t shut up until I do, will you?”

“Definitely not.”

Harry disappears into the kitchen and Draco sits there looking smug.

“It’s kind of sick how you get off on bossing him around,” says Ron, his tone one of simple observation. His fingers are idly playing with Hermione’s hair, but she doesn’t think he notices he’s doing it. 

“If I’m not mean to him a few times a week I break out in a rash, Weasley,” Draco says blithely. “Besides, he makes it perfectly. I don’t know how he does it, it’s always exactly the right temperature and sweetness and all that. I s’pose his years as a house-elf for those Muggles gave him plenty of time to perfect the art.”

“You’re a twat,” says Ron. “And my mum makes tea better than him.”

“Well you’re just a pitiful little mummy’s boy, aren’t you, Weasley? We can hardly trust your opinion.”

“Hark who the hell’s talking,” Ron scoffs. “Least I’m not twenty-three and still calling my mum ‘mummy’ like the world’s biggest bloody ponce.”

Draco splutters but before he can retort Harry’s coming back into the room hovering four cups of tea that float placidly to each of them. Draco looks exactly like a satisfied cat as he takes his and Harry drops back down onto the sofa next to him. Not too close, but certainly not too far, either.

“Literally exquisite,” Draco declares after he’s taken a sip. Ron rolls his eyes.

“It’s just tea, Draco,” says Harry, and he grabs for the remote to turn the film back on. “You’re such a demanding little brat. Merlin’s fucking tits.”

But Draco looks happy and Harry looks suspiciously content as well. Ron turns to her and makes a silent gagging face. Hermione snorts and puts a finger to her lips. They’ve decided not to say anything yet.

*

“Wasn’t this place a lot … uglier last time?”

“What?” Harry says absently. He’s not listening — he’s got all his attention zeroed in on a stack of parchment he’s holding. They’d only barely dragged him along to lunch; earlier the captain of the English National Team had apparently owled him a great number of brand-new Quidditch plays and required Harry’s extensive thoughts and notes before their next practise, which was tomorrow morning. 

“Uglier,” Draco says emphatically, and Ron mutters something she doesn’t catch. “Remember? The walls were that tragic egg-yolk colour.” He shivers. Hermione thinks it might have been an honest-to-god shiver of revulsion. She also thinks she knows what’s happened, even though the extent of it surprises her.

“Maybe someone heard you whingeing and changed it,” Ron apparently can’t stop himself from saying with a snigger. Hermione elbows him hard and he shoots her a glare, mouthing, he doesn’t know!

Harry would usually be the one to take the lead and get them a table when all four of them go out to eat together but today he’s too wrapped up in his Quidditch plays, so Ron steps forward and does it, which makes Hermione’s chest flutter pleasantly. He’d blush down to his bones if she ever said it aloud but he’s quite capable of being a leader in Harry’s absences. 

“Whatever happened,” says Draco pointedly as they’re led to their table, “it’s a great bloody blessing, I was genuinely unsure I’d have the mental fortitude to survive another assault like that on my delicate senses. And, I mean, this —” he gestures to the walls, which are now an admittedly pleasing dark teal above a white trim “— is stunning. It’s my favourite colour.”

“Is it? So weird they picked your favourite colour completely by coincidence,” Ron says, and Hermione elbows him again. Draco notices nothing and neither does Harry, although he does finally set the plays aside once they’re seated at the table.

“Are you complaining about the wall colour again?” he asks drily. They would both be extremely displeased to know they sound like an old married couple. Draco snatches haughtily at the paper napkin on the table and unfolds it to place over his lap. The first time he’d ever done this at a regular, decidedly not upscale restaurant Ron had taken it upon himself to spend the entire meal adopting a posh accent to match Draco’s and saying things to the waiter like “Don’t you have crystal?” while holding up a glass cup full of Pepsi and then commenting “These aren’t real silver, you know” after making a show of inspecting the titanium utensils. 

“I can complain about hideous design choices if I want to,” Draco tells Harry with his nose in the air. “Thankfully they’ve rectified it this time.”

On the other side of the restaurant, Hermione sees two employees talking, one of them gesturing at the wall with utter bewilderment. She doesn’t point it out.

*

“Twelve o’clock,” says Ron, nodding past Draco’s shoulder. “Some bloke staring you down hard, Malfoy.”

Draco looks excitedly behind him, but what Hermione takes more notice of is the way Harry’s face falls a little. She can’t help but wonder if he even realises it’s happened. She’s almost certain he’s aware of his feelings for Draco even though he still hasn’t said anything to her (and she’s been waiting months now, the effort of holding her tongue growing only more difficult by the day, and she knows Ron’s always seconds away from shouting at him) but she doesn’t think he knows how obvious he is. Draco doesn’t seem to know either, but she thinks that’s because Draco feels exactly the same way. She’d have called them morons, but she remembers too well how long it had taken her and Ron.

“What the fuck, Weasley,” Draco hisses, turning back around with a scowl that makes Ron laugh and Harry perk up again a little bit. “He looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in weeks.”

“Now, now,” says Ron, “mustn’t judge books by their greasy covers.”

“Then you go shag him if you think he’s so fit.”

“Maybe I will,” Ron says airily, as if he really is considering it, and Hermione can’t help chuckling and kissing his cheek. Then his expression changes to one of wicked amusement, which makes all of them look round to see the bloke coming their way. Hermione glances at Harry to find that — oh yes, he looks flustered and vaguely upset.

“Hullo,” says the greasy bloke to Draco as he comes up beside him at their table. He’s really not terrible-looking, but if she’s learned anything about Draco in the last couple years it’s that his standards amount to models and Harry Potter, so this man has almost no chance.

“Hello,” Draco drawls, reminding her fiercely of his younger self at Hogwarts. “I’m not interested.”

“Right little narcissistic bugger, aren’t you?” the man says. And now, finally, he’s begun to look as revolting to Hermione as he’d done initially to Draco — a repellent personality can do that. “Maybe I just wanted to come and have a chat.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at any of the rest of us?” Ron asks, sounding halfway between amused still and a little put off.

“Can you leave, please?” Draco interjects, cringing away from the man encroaching slowly on his personal space. And suddenly, as he looks on the verge of antagonising Draco further, he shifts his feet and slips, landing right on his bum with a yell of surprise. All four of them get to their feet to see, but there doesn’t seem to be any liquid or even slimy food for him to have tripped on.

“The fuck ...?” the man says, getting back to his feet. But when he moved towards Draco, he only slips again, on absolutely nothing at all. Something clicks and Hermione looks at Harry: he seems as confused as anyone else (if obviously pleased).

She looks at Ron then, who catches her eye and lifts his brows like he’s thinking the same thing.

Draco’s suitor gets up once more and steadies himself, looking a bit dazed. Some deep animal instinct seems to tell him to stop trying, and with a wary glance at Draco he finally leaves.

“Well that was a bit of a fucking scene,” says Harry. Draco, coming out of his own startled daze, laughs.

“Yeah,” Ron says sarcastically, “wonder what could’ve possibly happened.”

*

“I really thought it was going to rain,” Draco mopes where he’s standing at the window. It’s grey outside but it definitely doesn’t look like rain and Draco appears so upset about it that Hermione actually feels badly, even though she’s quite glad for the clear weather. 

“Just shut the curtains,” Ron suggests from his place on the floor. He’s sorting through Harry’s collection of VHS tapes, trying to decide on a good Halloween movie. Not that he’s ever seen any of them, and Hermione suspects he’ll end up choosing whichever cover he likes best.

“It’s not the same!” Draco wails. “The thunder and lightning is all part of it, you uncultured pillock! The atmosphere is all wrong.”

“It’ll be just as good when we shut off all the lights and draw the curtains,” she assures him, but it doesn’t remove the look of disappointment from his face. It’s a pouty sort of thing that echoes the brattiness of his youth; she imagines a five-or-six-year-old Draco giving his parents similar looks when he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

 At that moment the front door opens and Harry walks in carrying two grocery bags, one of which contains alcohol, which Hermione can tell by the way the plastic is bulging around the cans.

“The fuck are you all doing here?” he says by way of greeting.

“You said eight o’clock, fuckhead,” Ron tells him without looking up. “But it’s fine, I’ve had time to pick a film and Malfoy’s had time to moan about the weather.”

“What’s wrong with the weather?”

“I wanted a storm!”

At that exact moment, a flash of lightning lights up the sky behind Harry where he hasn’t even closed the door yet. Seconds later a downpour begins, and then there’s a rolling crash of thunder.

Hermione’s eyes widen and once more she finds Ron’s gaze, who looks about as shocked as she feels. Draco, meanwhile, has his hands over his mouth and looks like a child on Christmas morning.

For the first time since his magic had begun picking up on Draco’s wishes and granting them of seemingly its own accord, Hermione sees Harry look suspicious. He peers behind him at the storm suddenly raging outside his house before slowly closing the door. When he turns back he looks directly at Hermione, who looks away quickly.

They set up the food Harry had gotten — all kinds of Halloween-themed sweets — and once everyone has their drinks (“Make mine,” Draco tells Harry, “you do it best”) and is comfortable on the two sofas in the room (Harry and Draco are, as usual, as close to each other as they can get without actually touching) they start the movie: The Thing, which Harry swears is one of the greatest horror films of all time.

Funny thing is, an hour and a half into it she looks over and, with a jolt, realises the two of them are kissing half-covered beneath a blanket. She elbows Ron, who positively beams when he notices.

“Fucking finally, dear sweet Merlin,” he whispers, the sound muffled by the continued rain and thunder. “I nearly hit him upside the head when he made it rain, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shh!” Hermione hisses, though she’s smiling. “They’ll hear you. We’ll rag him about it tomorrow.”

A soft sound of laughter comes from the other sofa that Hermione identifies as Draco’s, and when she risks another peek after a moment she sees that Harry has a hand on Draco’s jaw, and that he’s smiling.

[walviemort]

Fairy Godfather, part 3

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! Thank you to @sancocnutclub​ for her continued encouragement...which will be very apparent in part 4 ;)

rated T / 2.4k words / part 1 / part 2 / AO3

Though he had just passed the first trimester mark in this oversized pregnancy, Killian was pleased to find he was not lacking in the energy department. Granted, his first pregnancy had been similar—he’d had the most energy during the second trimester, despite the increasing size of his belly.

But his belly was a fraction of the size back then. Now, at 13 weeks, it was much closer to the size he’d been at 35 weeks with Hope. But he had yet to slow down—as evidenced by his and Emma’s morning activities; he was even on top.

There was no denying his present form was bulky, but he’d been too fatigued at this size with Hope to do much but sleep and eat. That was not a problem now, and both he and Emma were reaping the benefits. Reaching orgasm while she was caressing his bump? It was impossible to describe how amazing that felt.

However, he’d hardly finished when Hope began to cry out from her nursery. As much as he was still feeling good, moving did take a bit more effort than it had. This bump also weighed as much as his last one, and was only going to get heavier; at least it hadn’t dropped yet. But it meant that Emma was still quicker to her feet than he was, and sprang up to retrieve their 13 month old before she tried to climb out of her crib on her own.

Hope finally figured out walking a month or so ago—just in time for her first birthday—and he was well aware of the comical sight he’d made at her party, chasing after her with his protruding stomach. But at least he still could, even if he got winded more quickly than he’d like. 

Tink had been snickering at him during one such moment. “Hey,” he chastised and patted the bump. “Your kid is in here, so I’d watch the mocking when it comes to running after mine.”

“That’s fair,” she’d conceded. “Just let me know when you need help, though—I’ll gladly go after the little hellion.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

They hadn’t needed her help yet, but it was only a matter of time—especially by the sound of tiny but insistent footsteps that were getting faster every day as they ran down the hallway. 

“Dada!” her little voice called out as she charged into the room and threw herself against his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“How’s my little cygnet today?” he enthusiastically replied as he bent down to pick her up. He had to open his legs to make room for the bump, but it was still an achievable feat, and Hope giggled as she flew into the air and the curled in as he carefully tucked her into his side. 

After a brief cuddle, she squirmed for him to set her down on the mattress, and gave his bump a gentle pat. “Hi babies,” she said (or tried to; some of those sounds were still being worked on). She’d noticed the bump a few weeks ago, once it had really started popping out. They couldn’t tell if she actually understood what was going on—and were glad she was young enough to not have to explain it—but she was at least careful and affectionate. 

He just hoped that continued as she grew steadier on her feet—and he grew larger and less so. 

Hope tucked herself back into Killian’s side and Emma sat down on the other. “This is a pretty perfect morning,” she sighed as she laid her head in his bare shoulder. “Do I really have to go into work?”

“I’m of the same opinion—but wasn’t Tiger Lily coming for training today?” She was the fairy who’d offered to take over his deputy duties once he no longer could—and he had a hunch she'd be an acceptable long-term hire. 

“Yeah,” she complained. “Just wish it could wait another day.”

“Or,” he suggested, “we get through today and then we can spend tomorrow in a similar manner.”

“I like the way you think,” she replied, then pulled him in for a kiss. 

He set Hope down on the bed, where she proceeded to tackle the pillows, and went about the process of getting dressed. His sleep pants still fit, although they were reaching the point where they were almost too snug on his hips, which had definitely widened more than last time. 

Thankfully, his maternity jeans were as stretchy as ever, and he hadn’t yet exceeded their capacity; the elastic panel hugged his belly comfortably as he slipped them on. 

Emma had bought him a collection of soft, short-sleeved t-shirts a size larger than he typically wore, and one of those slipped on easily, but the bump still stood prominently under navy cotton. Hopefully, they made these in several larger sizes. 

They stopped at Granny’s before heading to their respective workplaces for the day, and Killian consumed a larger stack of pancakes than he’d like to admit; good thing Belle took his measurements yesterday. At least there was also a generous side of fresh fruit. 

When he and Hope arrived at the library, he was only semi-surprised to see Blue there; she seemed to be showing up once a month or so to check in, but today had another goal. 

“Would you be okay with getting an ultrasound?” she asked. 

That was shocking. “Sure,” he said, “but will it be okay for them?” he countered, rubbing his belly. Inside, they seemed to be fluttering nervously. 

“If it’s fine for a human baby, it should be for them. It’s just—I see all these thorough notes and comparisons, and I’m curious what that would reveal.”

“Whale says he has an opening,” Belle added, phone in hand. “Shall we?”

They did, and headed out en masse to make the short walk to the hospital. At least, it should have been short, but Hope insisted on walking on her own and Killian’s pace wasn’t as fast as it normally was. 

Whale met them in the waiting room when they arrived, though, an eager look on his face. “Wondered if I'd see you this time around,” he greeted. “I’ve gotta say—I’m pretty curious about this.”

“Aren’t we all,” Killian answered dryly, bracing his hook against his lower back. 

“Come on; let’s take a peek in there,” Whale beckoned, and led them to an exam room. 

Killian passed Hope off to Blue and began the process of climbing up on the exam table; again—he was doing fine on the energy front, but a large bump was a large bump, and it not only was an obstacle to his mobility, but he was carrying around some weight he hadn’t been 13 weeks ago (and in more places than just the bump).

But he managed to get up there and lifted up his shirt without prompting; he knew the drill. During his seemingly arduous climb, Whale had been looking over Belle’s notes from both pregnancies. “Damn,” he commented. “I think your notes are more detailed than my charts.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Killian called out; Whale just chuckled and moved to ready the ultrasound machine while Belle rolled her eyes and readied her pen. 

Killian had forgotten how cold the gel was, but he got over it quickly as Whale began to move the probe over his (thankfully stretch mark-free) stomach. 

“Well I’ve never seen that before,” Whale said after a bit, and everyone focused on the screen. 

“I thought those were only in black and white?” Belle asked. 

“They are,” Whale confirmed. 

And yet, as the tiny images of multiple babies appeared on the screen, each one was showing up in a different color—the color of the orbs they started as. Tink’s green stood out front and center, but as Whale moved the probe over the dome that was Killian’s abdomen, all the other colors showed up, except—

“Where’s mine?” Blue asked, understandably worried. 

“Hmm,” Whale hummed, investigating. “One, two,” he started counting, finding 8 that were easily visible. “But it looks like…” He pressed harder on Killian’s belly, to the point of discomfort, but he didn’t complain—not when Blue looked so worried. 

“Yeah, there’s definitely one hiding in there,” Whale said. “I just can’t zero in. There’s some color bleeding through, though…”

And in between a pink-hued and navy-hued fetus, a bit of bright blue was visible. Blue sighed in relief. “Yeah, she’s just being stubborn,” Whale assured her. “You can probably blame it on Hook.”

“Hey!” he protested, but Belle’s snicker suggested she agreed.

“Anyways—from a development standpoint, yeah, I’d put you right at 13 weeks, although probably half the size. Were it a normal pregnancy, I’d guess you’d only go to 30 weeks or so, for safety—but I’m guessing that won’t be the case here?”

“No,” Blue said. “He’ll go all the way to full term.”

Whale whistled. “Thank goodness they’re small then.”

Several copies of the sonogram were printed off—as mysteriously colorful as they were on screen—with Killian taking one, another going in Belle’s notebook, and the rest going with Blue. There was some discussion of doing another ultrasound at the second trimester, but it was ultimately deemed unnecessary.

Whale bid them adieu but they lingered in the room, if only because it took Killian a bit to clean off the gel (he hated the way it got caught in the bit of hair on his stomach). Belle was wrangling the kids, but Blue was staring at the pictures, almost in awe. 

“You were worried, weren’t you?” Killian asked softly. “That she wasn’t there.”

“Yes,” Blue admitted. “It’s rare, but sometimes, they don’t all take. And I’ve just—I’ve waited so long for this.”

“I understand.” It had taken him and Emma quite some time to conceive Hope, and obviously they required assistance. 

“I guess I’ll just have to be patient,” she sighed. 

“Aye,” he agreed. “But—” He placed his hand on the top of his bump and furrowed his brow in concentration. “I’m almost positive she’s kicking my bladder at the moment.”

It drew the polite chuckle he was going for, but also meant he needed to excuse himself. Blue also took that moment to take her leave, but not without an emphatic thank-you.

He had to admit, as he shuffled off to the bathroom—he’d definitely been resentful of this arrangement to an extent. But seeing Blue’s genuine emotions there at the prospect of parenthood made that feeling dissipate. 

He was sure he’d have a mountain of complaints by the end of this, but being able to grant so many others the joys he’d found as a parent—that would be worth it. 

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

At 16 weeks, he hit the same measurements he had when he was at full term with Hope (literally those of the day before he’d gone into labor). But the bump still sat high on his frame. “I wonder if whatever magic is preventing stretch marks is also holding it aloft,” he quipped as he traced the curve of his belly. 

“It’s entirely possible,” Belle concurred. “Look at the difference.” In addition to measured data, she also had photographic documentation of his various milestones in both pregnancies; comparing the picture she’d just taken on her phone to the one from right before Hope entered the world, it was plain to see the similarities in how much they extended in front of him, but the difference in where it sat on his body. 

“We’ll see how long it lasts, though.”

In answer to his theory, he got another few weeks before things began to sit lower, though his stomach continued it’s outward expansion—a couple centimeters every week. But by his 17th week, he finally started feeling the pull of gravity and had to dig out the belly band he’d relied on the last month or so with Hope. 

But he soon noticed another issue. While he remembered what it was like to not be able to see his feet, and had gotten used to the obstacle about his midsection, he wasn’t prepared for it to stick out even more. 

Case in point: one morning during his 18th week, when he was attempting to surprise Emma with breakfast (usually she rose first, but a flurry of activity in his belly had woken him early). However, he was a bit farther from the stove than he was used to, as well as the cabinets, and he kept knocking into the chairs around the table; Hope was watching him from her own high chair in amusement, far more interested in his slapstick endeavor than her cereal. 

“What’s going on?” Emma’s sleepy voice asked after he cursed at nearly burning his belly on the oven. 

“Nothing,” he huffed, rubbing the spot on his bump that was just a bit too warm. “Just a failed attempt at treating my amazing wife.”

She glanced around, then smiled. “You were trying to make me breakfast but then your belly got in the way?”

“Aye,” he sighed. 

She walked over to him and pulled him into a hug—from the side, since she already couldn’t get close enough from the front—and turned his face towards her to kiss him. “You’re too sweet,” she said, tucking herself into his side. “And you treated me plenty last night,” she added in a low voice; he swallowed at the memory of their shared moment—probably one of the last times he’d be able to make love on top for a while, unless they got creative with the logistics, but dammit, he did it, and it was amazing. 

“I can finish this up; take a seat, okay?”

“I should be able to do this, though,” he complained. 

“And you will—in 5 months or so. But I told you I’d support you with this, so let me.”

He sighed again, but complied, and ignored the creak of his chair as he sat down (angled away from the table—he was also up a size in shirts, but his jeans were holding on…for now). “How did the gods see fit to bless this poor bastard with such an amazing woman?” he asked, watching the blush rise on her cheeks. 

“The same way they did for this lost girl,” she countered, then put a (heaping) plate in front of him. 

“I love you so much, Swan—thank you.”

She placed another kiss on his lips. “I love you too—always.”

Even if this wasn’t an ideal situation, he knew that he was blessed to have Emma at his side; he wouldn’t be able to get through this without her. 

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

thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez​ @jennjenn615​ @superadam54​ @ashley-knightingale​ @justsomewhump​ @teamhook​ @88infinity88​​ (let me know if you want a tag!)

[heavenlyhaechan]

The Pursuit of Happiness

Pairing: Ten x Gn!Reader 

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers au, fluff, a teensy tiny itty bitty basically nonexistent bit of angst, 

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: very brief mentions of stress, 

Rating: PG 

Note: happy birthday ten!!! 

The day was bright and sunny, which inconveniently contradicted your mood. You wouldn’t have to be outside for long though you reminded yourself, just long enough to get a net of clementines from the co-op down the street. This small bit of happiness would have to be enough to hold you over until finals were finished and you could finally breathe again. 

The bell on the door jingled merrily, another offensive clash with your mood. You headed straight for the produce section, your eyes watching your feet as they moved you forward. You knew your way around this little shop so well you were sure you could find what you wanted with your eyes closed. 

When you saw the last net of clementines sitting on the old wood shelf, the blue of the net complimenting the bright orange fruit, your heart leaped. Well maybe not leaped, but certainly sat up a little straighter. Your hand reached for them, but just before your fingertips could brush the netted plastic it was being snatched away by a quicker shopper. 

Your heart sunk again as you looked up to meet the eyes of the clementine stealer. His dark bangs fell into his eyes and down his neck, and a mole stared at you from under his left eye. He looked a bit confused which only proceeded to aggravate the indignation now building in your chest. 

“Uhhh,” he began, eyes moving back and forth from you to the clementines in his hand. 

“I’ll pay you for them,” you interrupted him, hands rummaging in your pockets for your wallet. 

“No no it’s okay,” he shook his head emphatically. “You can just have them.” 

It was then that you were reminded of the way you’d left your residence, half asleep after a three-hour nap that had been proceeded by your third all-nighter this week. You were in the same clothes you’d been wearing yesterday, wrinkled no doubt, with circles that made you resemble a raccoon imprinted under your eyes. 

And yet if the sympathy of this stranger meant that you got your treasured clementines, then you couldn’t complain. 

“Okay,” you took them from him. “Thank you.” 

“Sure,” he nodded amicably. “Just know that you owe me.” 

——

“Wow, there’s a lot of people here,” you said to Yuta as you took your seats. Nearly every chair in the auditorium had already been taken and people were still filing in through the double doors that led to the lobby. 

“For good reason,” he told you as he leaned back in his seat. “They’re really good.” 

You had agreed to go with him to see his friend Sicheng and his dance company perform a while ago, so long that it had almost escaped your mind today. You supposed it was a good thing that Yuta never failed to give you countless reminders for everything in your life, from a project due to an event that you had promised to attend with him months ago. 

Just as you began to flip through the program in your lap the lights in the audience went down only to be replaced by a single spotlight. A man appeared from the side of the stage to announce the upcoming performance before disappearing backstage once more. 

The dark and silence that followed made you feel like the entire audience was holding their breath. Then the red velvet curtain parted and the show began. 

——

You clung to Yuta’s arm so as not to lose him in the crowd as you wove your way through the lobby to the door marked with a neon exit sign. He had agreed to meet Sicheng outside after the performance and so there you waited, hands stuffed in your pockets to ward off the winter chill. 

Soon enough a chattering group exited the building, their stage makeup looking comical under the light of the streetlamps. 

“Sicheng!” Yuta cried as his friend emerged from within their midst to greet him. You laughed to yourself at the modest and faintly embarrassed expression on his face as Yuta began to talk his ear off about the intricacies of the show you’d just watched. 

Leaning against the brick wall of the building you watched as people hugged each other goodbye, feeling oddly out of place. Then you were met with the sight of a familiar face with a familiar mole under the left eye. 

“I’m pretty sure you owe me,” he said as he leaned against the wall next to you. 

“Oh, you were serious?” 

“Of course.” 

You stared him down, waiting for him to waver. But he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled at you like you were an old friend, someone who he had shared tubs of popcorn with and borrowed a towel from after a summer day spent in the pool. 

You felt entrapped in his gaze, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. His eyes were warm and comfortable like a rare spot of sun on the wood floor in winter. It wasn’t exactly a staring contest you were partaking in, but you still didn’t want to be the first to look away. 

“I don’t even know your name,” you finally conceded. 

“Ten,” he said simply, reaching out a hand to shake. 

You told him your name and he repeated it back to you, rolling the foreign syllables around on his tongue like they were peas fresh out of the pod. Your name, something so mundane after hearing it so many times, sounded fresh and beautiful coming from him. 

“So how about you buy me an ice cream cone to pay off your debt.” 

“It’s too cold for ice cream.” 

“It’s never too cold for ice cream,” he said cheekily before turning to say goodbye to his friends. 

You stepped forward as well to let Yuta know where you were going, and after an affirmation from Sicheng that Ten wasn’t a creep, he let you go with a promise that you’d text him when you got home. 

——

“So what’d you think of the performance?” Ten asked you before taking a bite of his green tea ice cream. 

You shuddered at the sight, gums cringing in phantom pain. He tilted his head like a cat would at your actions, and you quickly had to explain that it was aimed at him biting his ice cream, not at the performance. 

“It was amazing,” you said after the miscommunication had been cleared up. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mm.” 

Your mind drifted off for a moment as you relived the contents of the show you’d just watched. Some songs had been slow, strange, and hypnotizing. Others were much more upbeat, the energy in the room making you feel like you could fly up into the rafters of the grand auditorium. 

“What about me?” Ten asked, successfully jolting you from your fond remembering. 

“Huh?” 

“What do you think about me?” 

You smiled at the cheshire grin on his face, noticed the way his eyes twinkled with mischief. To yourself you thought, I think I’d like to see more of those eyes, but out loud you said: 

“I think I’d like to get to know you better.” 

——

Months passed and you did exactly that, got to know each other better. You learned that Ten actually hated fruit and that he had only wanted to buy the clementines for his roommate, the aforementioned Sicheng. You saw firsthand how hard he worked, how creativity ran through his veins in place of blood and leaked out of his pores in place of sweat. 

You quickly learned that he shared your affinity for coffee and so, since you only lived a few blocks away from each other, much of your time was spent haunting the local coffee shop. It was there that he told you of his home back in Thailand and of his family and friends there, as well as the story of how he started dancing. 

He talked a lot if you let him, but you didn’t mind. He was fascinating to listen to and to watch. Time and time again you found yourself sinking into the depths of his eyes as you listened, bathing in their warmth. 

He caught you doing just that a few times more than you’d like, laughing kindheartedly at your embarrassment before starting back up again where he had left off. He was always kind, even when he teased you for the purple butterfly sticker you bought to place over your laptop camera. 

“You watch too many crime movies,” he’d said before letting out an exaggerated yelp when you’d punched him in the arm. 

Tonight you were watching yet another crime movie on that same laptop, your blankets creating a nest for you to rest in. Ten sat next to you, his fingers braiding the loose strings on the side of one of those very blankets. Every now and then he would look up to watch you, barely remembering to pay any attention to the movie. 

Your brow creased as you focused on the crime detailed in the film, your eyes wide and reflecting the screen at him. Your shoulders were hunched in and for a moment he wondered whether it was from the cold. This made him realize how cold it was in your living room, despite all of the blankets, and so he slipped an arm around you until you were pulled up against his side and sharing his body heat. 

You jumped in response to his actions, almost crying out from surprise after being so engrossed in the movie before you. 

“Sorry, I thought you were cold,” he said quietly. 

“Oh. It’s okay,” you decided, not wanting to admit how comfortable he was and how nice he smelled. 

“Okay,” he said, moving his arm into a more comfortable position. You jumped again but for a different reason this time. 

“Sorry I-” he started to retract his arm. 

“No, it’s okay I just-” 

“Wait,” he cut you off, his trademark grin growing and filling you with anticipation. “Are you ticklish?” 

“No,” you said quickly, maybe too quickly. 

He let out a giggle and poked your side to test his theory. You jumped a third time, pushing him away in annoyance. But now he was laughing outright and you couldn’t help but laugh with him, any momentary exasperation disappearing as the golden sound poured out of your throats. 

The two of you sat there laughing for far too long and simultaneously not long enough, movie long forgotten. You hadn’t laughed like that since you were a kid, that exhilarating feeling where anything and everything is truly hysterical. 

Eventually, you lapsed from breathless giggles into giddy smiles. As Ten watched you, his heart still pounding like a drum in his chest, he had a rare moment of clarity. 

“I like you.” 

Once he came to the realization it wasn’t something he had to think about saying out loud. Why shouldn't you know? You were the only one that he cared to tell after all. 

“Like like?” you asked despite how childish you felt. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Like like.” 

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. 

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t want to,” he said matter of factly. “I told you so you’d know, not so you’d say it back.” 

The corners of your mouth turned up against your will as you stared down at your hands where they rested in your lap. You realized then how easily smiling came to you since you’d met him. How easily happiness came. You no longer had to convince yourself that your small pleasures and indulgences were happiness, for in the time since you’d met Ten you had simply begun to believe it. 

“I like you too.” 

“Really?” his eyes lit up as he looked at you, mouth curving into a newborn smile. 

“Really.” 

[modern-vellichor]

Darling, You're Hopeless

Summary: You and Loki are seemingly always on the run. One day Loki is forced to leave you, and Steve takes care of you while he's gone.

Warnings: smoking, cigarettes, mentions of blood, handcuffs?, needles, loki fluff, steve being a good friend, mostly fluff.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Dating the villain isn't as bad as it seems, especially when you are one in the same. They knew you only as Hestia, except you weren't a God, not like him. They knew that you flirted with flame like it was an old friend, hence the nickname. You were the first one they called when he ended up in their grasp. It had taken a week of persuasion from Tony and Cap to convince Thor to contact you.

You were nice when you arrived. You stepped out of the cab in very mortal clothes. Cap noticed how generously you tipped the driver. You shook everyone's hand when you came in, even gave Peter a soft, motherly smile and a pat on the head. When you were talking with Tony and Steve you were nothing but mannerly. You didnt hesitate in declining a call in the middle of your meeting. You shook your head and apologised upon hearing of Loki's actions. Then politely asked to see him, and they didnt see why not.

"My Darling, Hestia. You dont know how happy I am to see you", he said, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth after the gag was removed.

"I know, baby", you whispered, wiping his chin with your thumb.

The two of you spoke for a while, Tony and Steve watching intently. Then you flicked your hand beside your head, a lit cigarette appearing between your fingers. You took one long drag, and exhaled. Smoke filled the room, obscuring their view. When they burst in, the two of you were gone and the room had been set ablaze.

They should have known.

Your house in Missouri was secluded. You hid there, you and Loki. You lived an almost normal life. You had groceries delivered to the house and spent your days lounging around. You had work to do, and Loki kept himself busy.

One late afternoon you heard knocking on your door. You opened it without thinking and next minute Steve Rogers was shoving his way into your entry hall. You stopped him before he reached the door to the living room, clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Y/N, Darling?", Loki called out. "Is everything alright? Who's at the door"

"Everything's fine, baby. It's just an old friend. We're going for a walk." You answered nonchalantly.

You shoved Steve into the cool afternoon air. You didnt say a word until the two of you had walked to the next block.

"So, Y/N?" He asked lazily.

"You don't get to call me that." You spat in return.

You had worked so hard on keeping private and safe. And now everything had been compromised. For all you know there could be 20 S.H.I.E.L.D agents at your home for Loki while Steve distracted you.

You took a deep breath. "What do you want, Mr. Rogers?"

"I want to make a deal"

"What deal?"

"Keep your boyfriend distracted long enough until we have precautions in place to defeat him should anything,,,happen. We have Intel that Loki is planning an attack on the Avengers and we dont need another problem right now"

"Will those precautions involve killing him?", you asked sadly.

"No"

"Then you have a deal"

"Pleasure doing business with you"

From then on Steve made a visit every month. He promised not to tell any of the other Avengers of your location. You had begun to enjoy your monthly walks. Until one day Steve rapped at your door and you opened it, teary eyed and distraught.

"He's gone and I dont know where he is", you rambled hastily. "Steve you've got to help"

Steve was quick to get to straight to New York. He left you stranded in a concrete room while he searched the city for Loki. Eventually he came to let you out, and guided you to a plain but comfortable looking cell. In it was an angry looking Loki who was pacing. He had a cut on his temple and a bruise forming on his cheek. You sighed in relief and tapped on the glass. The two of you spoke quietly for a few minutes before your hands were being held behind your back.

Loki put up a fight as you were lead away in cuffs and chains. But you went quietly. You made small remarks to Steve, you was hesitantly leading you to a cell of your own. He had done so much for you, the least you could do was cause him no trouble. And even in captivity, Steve took care of you. He snuck you books to read and journals to write in. He took letters and notes to Loki, and brought you his in return. And after a few months of lonely captivity, you asked Steve a final favour.

He had come to bring you dinner when you grabbed his arm, looking into his eyes with a pleading look.

"Steve please. Allow us to share a cell. I worry what Loki will do, should he be left alone any longer"

He walked you to Loki with your hands tied behind your back. The first thing that Loki did was embrace you, your hands not yet free. Before Steve could remove your restraints, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and passed a little note to him.

Steve came to visit you in the evenings. You both hated to admit it, but you had become good friends. Should things have been different, you would have turned to him for advice.

Steve liked his evening visit. You and Loki read aloud as you lay with each other. While you liked to recite poetry and other dramatic readings, Loki preferred to read classic literature. Steve vividly remembers a poem you recited about icarus. He remembers you being so passionate about changing the narrative of the story of Icarus, and it had worked. Steve never saw that tale in the same light.

One evening Steve brought you and Loki your food. You came to retrieve your plates from the little hatch. You were muttering an apology before he even realised what was happening. He only felt the needle as you were pulling it out of his hand. On a normal man, that amount of tranquilizer would knock him out for days. But with serum raging through his veins, it merely immobilized Steve. It was enough though. You and Loki crawled out of the confines of your cell. With the walls behind you, Loki was finally able to get the both of you out of there.

Your holiday home in Italy was a lot nicer anyway.

Neither of you were working very hard in Italy. The two of you spent your days walking around in the summer sun, or spending your afternoons curled up in bed with each other. Loki was soft behind closed doors. Soft and loving, gentle and caring. Although you weren't allowed to tell anyone that. You lived like this for a few, happy months.

Then one night you were curled up, asleep. Loki's hand rubbing comforting circles on your stomach. You didn't wake up when the lock on your front door clicked, nor when the thudding up the stairs began. You still kick yourself for it. You only startled awake when your bedroom door was kicked in, a sad group of Avengers standing where it would have been. You immediately scrambled to hide your lover from the group of angry heroes. Steve had an emphatic look on his face, he met your pleading eyes with sorrow.

"Steve", you whimpered. "Please. I'm begging you. Don't do this"

You gave Loki a loving squeeze on the thigh. That was the signal. Within seconds he had disappeared, and you were left alone with tears in your eyes.

"Can I at least get dressed before you lot kidnap me", you spat.

Most of the group ambled pathetically downstairs, all but Steve.

"I'm sorry." He stated, sitting at the edge of your bed. His gaze trained at the floor while you dressed.

"I'm sure you are"

"I'll take good care of you, until Loki gets back"

Should those words have fallen from any others mouth, you would have thought them a threat. But on his lips, it was a kind gesture. You smiled at your unlikely friend, and things felt a small bit better.

Months went by. Every day you woke up in that God forsaken compound wishing that Loki would arrive to collect you. And each day you were disappointed. But there were little things to make up for it.

The young Avenger. Peter, you had grown close with him. And even though you were as stubborn as a mule, and refused to help, Stark could not kill you, you were simply too valuable. So you had the run of the library. You memorized poem upon poem for the day your lover returned. You knew in your heart one day he would.

Eventually your incessant complaining grew too much for Stark. So he allowed Steve to take your for walks. The two of you would walk Peter home from school sometimes.

It was on one of these trips that a familiar voice rang in your ear. The familiar call of "Darling" lingered in the air as you almost fainted. Sure enough, when you turned around he was there. Notably a fair bit skinnier. You weren't sure if this was really him or an apparition. When you embraced him you found him to be solid. Peter and Steve stood awkwardly as the two of you reunited.

"you have to go, god knows what they'll do if they find you," you say, pulling away from him with tears in your eyes.

You run your hands down his chest, straightening his shirt and fixing his jacket.

"come with me, please, darling. You have to, I need you," he begs. His eyes are soft and pleading.

Peter is standing behind you, he watches in fear. He's heard of Loki and the damage he's done, although he isn't scared of the Loki that you tell stories of, he's definitely afraid of the one standing a few feet ahead of him.

Steve watches out of the corner of his eye as Peter reaches for his phone and begins to call Tony. Steve grabs the device and crushes it in his hand. Peter begins to protest but Steve's quiets him quickly.

"Does that look like a man who's gonna hurt someone?" He whispers angrily, gesturing at the frail and weak Loki. "He's not here for revenge, he's here for her"

Suddenly you turn around to look at Steve, teary eyed. You look at him imploringly, silently begging him to let you go with Loki.

Steve smiles at you sadly, he raises his hand and waves at you.

Your eyes go wide in shock and disbelief.

Steve nods and shoos you away with his hand, turning around a pulling Peter with him.

You both look back one last time and you mouth a Thank You at the blond. He just nods and turns around again.

When he looks one last time you're gone. But he knows he'll see you again, and hopefully you'll have turned Loki into a better man. Or maybe he'll have corrupted you equally as much. Steve didn't try care. He'll miss his friend, and you will too.

[lavenderbexlatte]

office hours

nct 1.8k words gender-neutral reader insert Reader x Qian Kun SUGGESTIVE/NSFW

🖤 warnings: vaguely inappropriate work relationships, kissing n’ touching, a boner 🖤

connect with me! / masterlist

“Any final questions before I let you go?”

You glance out over your small class of undergraduate seniors, anticipating the usual last-minute queries about due dates for next week or term definitions from your lecture today. These students are pretty bright, all things considered, and extremely attentive even though your senior seminar class meets in the morning.

That’s why the question that one of your back-row girls asks bowls you over as much as it does.

“Doc, do you think Professor Qian is cute?”

“Professor Qian? In the music department?” you ask, trying to hide how flustered you are.

“Yeah. D’you think he’s hot?” the girl repeats, grinning as she shoves her notebook into her bag without breaking eye contact with you.

“I guess…I’ve never really thought about it,” you say honestly.

The girl hums. “Well, I think he’s pretty hot.”

You get the feeling that she’s got an agenda, a feeling that’s only solidified when you see a few of your other students struggling to hold back laughter and smiling into their books. This is not gonna fly. They can’t make things weird for you, these little punks.

“Any other final questions?” you ask, “About the material?”

Heads shake around the room.

“Okay. Go home, and you better have your summaries to me by Sunday night!”

The students pick up their bags and their books and their Hydroflasks, and they leave the room in their ones and twos. As the last one bids you goodbye, and you’re left alone with your notes again, you sincerely hope to yourself that this isn’t going to become…a thing. These kids (young adults, actual grown adults, though you always think of them as kids) are far too old to be pulling shit like this on you.

Truly, deeply, sincerely, you hope that your 22-year-old student is not planning on trying to bag the music professor. That would be way too much trouble to have on your radar.

You sling the last of your class materials into your bag, and head for your usual stop after your ten o’clock class: the nearest dining hall. The school gives you free lunches on the days that you teach, so you might as well take advantage.

One trip through the buffet-style lines later, you’re balancing your full plate as you scan the room for an open table. The only one you can spot, however, is right next to a group of students, and holding court is none other than your senior girl with the apparent penchant for older men.

“-like a fucking idiot!” you hear one of the other students laughing, “He’s faculty. He’ll get fired.”

“Only if I snitch,” your student is saying.

“Or if literally anyone finds out,” says another one.

“No one would find out. No one would care,” your student dismisses. “Unless they’re in the music department, no one even knows who Qian is.”

So she’s really trying to fuck Qian Kun, huh?

It’s none of your business, really. But if this actually happens, and it even gets out that you knew and said nothing, it’ll be your ass on the line, too. And you’re really not one to fight important shit like Title IX. But the girls at the next table aren’t letting up, the conversation turning more and more raunchy and giving you a growing desire to plug yours ears with the shitty cafeteria napkins for some sense of deniability.

You stab at your meal, annoyed at the position that you’re in now, the liability you hold. Fuck.

You’re gonna have to go see this other professor, and head off this mess before it begins.

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

It’s rare that you’re on campus in any place but your own department, but you find yourself in the music building later that evening. You’d done a quick snoop on the faculty page and found Professor Qian’s office hours, and decided that sooner is better. If you can get to him before your (admittedly pretty and fit and 22) student does, then maybe you can spare everyone the headache.

His office is tucked at the end of the hall, farthest from the doors into the building. Lucky him, you think. Your own tiny office is smack in the middle, with essentially no privacy as other faculty and students come and go all day long. The door is shut when you reach it, but the light inside is on, so you knock.

“Just a sec!”

You oblige, waiting and praying to anyone who’ll listen that you’re not about to see a very familiar coed behind this door.

But no. When finally, the door opens, all you see is Professor Qian.

He’s not someone you know well, or someone you see often, and maybe that’s why you spend such an awkward amount of time just looking at him. Your first extremely stupid thought is that your student is kind of right: he’s cute. Thick brown hair, neat eyebrows, a jawline that makes him look like a goddamn marble sculpture…

“Can I help you?” he asks.

You nod, mentally kicking yourself for being weird. “Yeah, hi. Can I come in?”

Qian Kun gives you a brilliant gentle smile that reveals deep dimples, and gestures you into his (blessedly empty) office. You introduce yourself, give him your name and your department, and after a cordial handshake and pleasantries, stood in the middle of the tiny space, you decide to just come right out and say it.

“I have a student who I think you know,” you say, “She’s a senior and a double-major.”

He asks for her name, and you give it.

“Yeah, she’s in my senior seminar,” Professor Qian tells you.

“Mine, too,” you say, “And she’s gotten a little…TOO comfortable in class, lately.”

His grin turns lopsided. “Are we talking eating without permission, or something less tasteful?”

“She has made it clear that she’s interested in some things involving you. And her. And sex,” you tell him, fighting to keep your voice level and not actually die of embarrassment.  

Now the grin disappears entirely. “Seriously?”

You nod, “The exact words I heard were ‘he’s super stacked and I want to-‘”

“Whoa, okay!” Professor Qian cuts you off, “Okay, yeah. No.”

“Professor, I’m sure you know this, but I can’t let anything like that happen. We’ll both get canned,” you say.

“Kun.”

“Pardon me?”

“Call me Kun,” he says, “We’re colleagues, don’t need to dance around titles.”

“Kun,” you repeat, “Alright. But you – you’re not going to-”

“Christ, no,” Kun says emphatically, looking scandalized.

“Good. This has been the most thoroughly uncomfortable conversation of my whole career, but good,” you say.

“I would rather you bring it up to me than let things get worse,” he assures you.

“I’m sure it’s flattering to know that students are interested,” you joke. “Sort of wish I was that kind of attractive.”

Kun laughs. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’ve always thought you were attractive.”

Your brain comes screeching to a halt so quickly, you’re sure Kun can hear as it slams on the breaks and leaves you confounded and blinking at him. He has the presence to look a bit sheepish, having just turned this around on you.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” he says, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“Unexpected but appreciated,” you reply. “And what do you mean, ‘always?’”

Kun shrugs, leaning back against his desk. “We share a lot of students. They talk about you, that makes you stand out, I see you around. Frequency bias.”

You crack a smile. “So, I come here to save you from one of my horny students, only to find you’re my secret admirer, is that it?”

“You could say that.”

He looks amused but not smug, satisfied but not cocky. The way he’s leaning his weight back on the sturdy wooden desk makes it really difficult not to notice his strong thighs in their fitted slacks, or his chest against the thin fabric of his shirt.

Maybe you were a little harsh, before, judging your student’s attraction to him. You can see the appeal. Completely.

You take a step closer to him, which isn’t difficult given the extremely limited space in the office. “You spend a lot of time thinking about me?”

“A completely normal amount of time,” he replies.

“What kinds of things do you think about?”

Kun reaches toward you suddenly, and then hesitates, leaving his hand hovering in the general direction of your hip. Fascinated, you cover his hand with yours and bring it down to meet your side, as he intended.

“How you always look so put-together but act so cavalier,” he says, finally. “How the kids say you curse in lecture and sit cross-legged on your desk and watch TikToks on your phone, but also grade harder than anyone in your department.”

You hadn’t known that anyone noticed those things. Not your students, and least of all some random colleague.

“So what do you wanna do about it?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Well,” says Kun, taking hold of your hip more firmly, “Since you’re right here, and the door is shut, and you’re not one of my students…”

You laugh, and his smile makes those dimples pop out again.

“Then,” he says, “Then I think I wanna do this.”

You can say with absolute certainty that you didn’t come here to kiss Qian Kun, but that’s exactly what’s happening. He kisses calm and steady, and you’re ready to about melt into his arms. It’s just a few gentle presses of your lips against his, until he suddenly grabs you around the waist and spins the both of you, so that you’re the one up against the desk.

He lifts you the little bit so that you can sit on the cold surface of it. You move your legs to either side of his hips, and he groans a bit as he draws even closer. As he settles his body against yours, you can feel the barest beginning of an erection pressing against your inner thigh.

“Excited already?” you ask, amused, as Kun traces a path of kisses across your jaw.

“Maybe,” he replies, “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.”

He laughs at that, which makes you laugh, and you hook your arm around his neck to bring his mouth back to yours. You could get used to this, you think, as one of Kun’s hands sneaks down to jerk your button-up out from where it’s tucked into your nice jeans. As soon as he has access, that hand goes right up your shirt to find purchase-

KNOCK KNOCK.

You jump, and Kun glances over his shoulder at the door, panic evident on his face. Before he can call out to tell whomever it is to wait a second, the door swings open.

“Hey, Qian, I had a question about the performance review for-”

Of course, it’s her. Your student, the very same one with the hots for Kun, walking headlong into the office. When she finally looks up and sees you there, on the desk, legs spread and Kun between them, she freezes.

“I…” she sputters, “I – I guess I’ll come back later.”

“Close the door behind you,” Kun agrees.

She nods, looking mortified. “Yeah, yeah, of course. S-see you on Monday, Doc!”

[asthmark]

❝ cute ❞ n.yt

synopsis → he stays quiet and you kick yourself for being so confident. you didn’t know if yuta was the playful flirting type but then again, you didn’t know much about him at all.

word count → 3.2k

a/n → on today’s episode of ‘it’s 2 a.m. and i’m writing a fic nobody asked for while the limitless album plays on a loop’ :)))))

you tapped your mechanical pencil against your desk, focusing on the rhythm you were making with it rather than the assignment your teacher had handed out. you directed your attention to ms. lee only to find that she was staring off into space, clutching her ‘world’s best teacher’ mug tightly, as usual. which worked for you. of course, her irresponsible behavior made you worry for the state of the educational system but realistically, you had no intentions of actually working and the longer she spent in her head, the longer you could avoid it. you hated to admit it but the time you spent in her fourth period class was usually wasted.

you shifted your gaze to the red haired boy sitting in front of you. nakamoto yuta. you never talked to yuta. sure, you wanted to hold a real conversation with him at least once because of all the rumors surrounding him and his mysterious nature but your interactions were always limited to asking for pencils and answers—which reminded you.

you tap his shoulder. he jolts and you figure he was taking one of his infamous in-class naps. he slowly turns to face you with his brown eyes that were the same color as the lukewarm coffee sitting in ms. lee’s mug. his eyelids are slightly droopy, only confirming the fact that he had been snoozing.

“is class over?" he asks, his voice slightly raspy.

“in a couple minutes, yeah. but here’s your pencil back,” you say, and you notice he smiles slightly when he takes it from you.

that was new. you figure that you could take advantage of him being in a good mood and keep the conversation alive. “i’m surprised you didn't snap at me for tapping it the entire class.”

his smile widens, shocking you even further. “are you kidding? i’m sure your pencil tapping is music to the ears in comparison to all my snoring.”

“oh, c’mon, it’s cute,” you respond.

he stays quiet and you kick yourself for being so confident. you didn’t know if yuta was the playful flirting type but then again, you didn’t know much about him at all.

the bell rings and you can’t seem to pack your things up fast enough. you can feel the boy’s gaze on you but you avoid making any eye contact. as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and speed walk to the door you realize that maybe you should’ve stuck to keeping your interactions with yuta limited.

when you drop your lunch tray on the table as you take a seat, joy and jinsoul put a pause on their conversation about the obvious affair between mr. son and mrs. jeon to greet you.

“hey girl,” jinsoul says, offering you a smile.

joy waves. “how was your fourth period? it’s history right?”

you nod. “it was pretty uneventful. until the end.”

your friends lean forward. “oh really?” asks joy.

“do you need to vent or something?” jinsoul adds.

you can’t fight back your smile. “what a polite way to ask for gossip. you two are getting better at it, you know.”

they laugh. “well, we try.” your best friends were known for knowing. they were sure to have the scoop in everything that went on around campus and they were quite proud of it.

“well,” you continue. “you guys know yuta right?”

jinsoul squeals at hearing his name. she apologizes once she takes notice of you and joy’s unamused stares. “my bad, i get excited whenever i hear a boy’s name.”

“wait, did you talk to him or something? like full conversation?” joy interjects, trying to get the details (as per usual).

“i’m sure we could’ve talked longer if i hadn’t flirted with him,” you mumble but jinsoul and joy hear you loud and clear. they immediately begin talking over each other. from what you catch jinsoul is proud of you for “making moves” while joy can’t seem to wrap her head around the fact that you actually spoke to the mysterious nakamoto yuta.

“guys, please. keep it down,” you plead. “i blew it, anyway.”

they become silent to ask, “how?” in perfect unison.

“well i said his snoring was cute and he just... didn’t respond after that,” you admit, cringing at the memory.

“you complimented his snoring?” joy asks.

“i was just trying to break the ice,” you sigh, burying your head in your hands waiting to be scolded by your friends for your lack of conversational skills.

“that’s not even that bad!” joy exclaims.

jinsoul nods. “i agree. it’s a little weird but... it’s unique! you probably stand out to him now. and that’s good.”

“but he didn’t even say anything after,” you whine.

“well how would you respond to someone telling you your snoring is cute?” joy interrupts, raising a brow.

it takes a moment for you to respond. “thank them, guess?”

“you gotta remember this is yuta we’re talking about. he isn’t the most expressive person ever,” jinsoul says.

joy agrees. “ever since that sicheng guy left to go back to china he’s kind of closed himself off. they were really close.”

you sigh. “he’s seemed so sad after that. i think he just needs a new friend. i want to be that for him. i mean, i would want someone to do the same for me if you guys suddenly left.”

jinsoul smiles at you, emphatically. “don’t worry, y/n. i have total confidence in you.”

“maybe if i hadn’t been so awkward i would too,” you say, dejectedly.

“well, judging by the way he keeps looking over here i’d say you're fine," joy comments, nonchalantly.

you freeze and stare at her dead in her eyes. “are you being serious right now? he’s looking over here?”

joy simply nods, poking at her salad.

you turn to jinsoul for confirmation. “jin? is she lying?”

jinsoul’s subtly eyes dart from you towards the back of the cafeteria and you see how they light up. “oh my gosh, no. she’s so right. wow, he’s really not hiding it at all.”

“so, your comment about his snoring really worked, huh?” joy teases. “i’m gonna have to start using that. ‘hey johnny, i love the way you snore. it’s so nasally and cute.’ how was that, y/n?”

you play along, chuckling and giving her a thumbs up.

later that day, all the talk of yuta has been forgotten and the three of you move on to focus on studying for the upcoming chemistry test. you find yourselves in your bedroom, taking diligent notes and reading report after report.

“i’m going to jump out the window,” joy announces, dropping her highlighter to massage her temples.

“is that your way of saying you want to stop studying?” you ask, your eyes never leaving your annotated text.

joy nods then dramatically collapses on your bed.

“a little break wouldn't hurt,” jinsoul agrees.

“you guys down for pizza?” you suggest.

“ooh yeah, that actually sounds so good right now,” joy comments from her spot on your bed.

“we had pizza last week!” jinsoul complains as she closes her notebook.

“it’s brain food, jin,” you say, giving her a serious look as you dial the pizza place’s number.

she rolls her eyes. “sure. just get me a slice of pepperoni.”

“i want cheese!” joy exclaims.

“got it,” you say, placing your phone on your ear. after two rings and a half they finally pick up.

“hello, may i take your order?”

“can i get a large pizza? one half pepperoni and the other half cheese.”

for some reason, the pair sitting on your bed has begun to giggle and you shoot them a glare, signaling for them to pipe down. but they don’t seem to care and their laughter only intensifies as jinsoul scribbles something onto a piece of paper.

“drinks?” the worker on the other line says.

“a, uh, two liter coke, please.”

“will that be all?”

suddenly, joy has begun waving frantically, stealing your attention away from the employee on the phone. she shakes her head vigorously and jinsoul mouths ‘no’ over and over.

assuming that’s what they want you say, you answer, “um... no?”

your friends smile, clearly happy with your response. then, jinsoul flips the notepad and reveals to you what has been written.

send your cutest delivery guy :)

you freeze, realizing that’s your next line. reluctantly, you say it. “actually, could you please... send your cutest delivery guy?”

jinsoul shoots you a big thumbs up and joy nods indicating she was satisfied.

the person over the line chuckles. “i’ll see what we can do. anything else?”

“nope, that’ll be all.”

once you’ve told her your address, all that’s left to do is wait. none of you bother trying to continue your study session because you’re too busy making up scenarios, the excitement of this ‘cute delivery guy’ getting to the three of you.

“so, if he’s insanely good looking... then what?” jinsoul asks, eyes filled with hope.

“then we get his number,” joy says, giving her a ‘duh’ look.

the blonde stares at her, incredulously. “there’s three of us, joy.”

“sharing is caring,” responds joy as you suggest, “ask him if he has any friends.”

you and joy laugh at your overlapped answers and how different they are.

“and what if he’s insanely old?” jinsoul continues.

you crack up at the question. joy shoves her shoulder, playfully.

“it could happen!” jinsoul defends. “have you guys never watched catfish?”

“i promise you, it’s not that serious,” you say, laughing. “he’s just delivering our pizza.”

“yeah and besides, you guys are totally not asking the important questions,” says joy. “what if he’s ugly?”

the three of you sit in silence, trying to contain your laughter before you speak up.

“well... then at least we got the pizza.”

when the doorbell rings, you all dash down your stairs so fast anyone else would think there was a fire in your room. you crowd against the door but jinsoul stands on the tips of her toes to see through the peephole.

her voice comes out breathless. “oh my god.”

“what is it?” you ask as you try to shove her out of the way.

being the tallest out of the three of you, joy is able to easily peek through the glass at the top of the door. you can only watch her jaw drop.

“no way!” she exclaims.

you whine. “guys, if you’re not gonna move at least tell me what the big deal is!”

your friends share a look that morphs into sly smiles and your confusion only grows. your doorbell rings again, the person standing behind it obviously growing impatient. joy swings the door open without hesitation and you suddenly understand their strange behavior.

there stands nakamoto yuta in all his glory.

he sports a red polo button up with the logo of the pizza place over his chest and a pair of khakis. the cap he wears is also apart of his uniform but he’s placed it on backwards, tufts of his ginger hair peeking out from underneath. he has failed to notice you since his eyes are so focused on reading the receipt in his right hand.  

“i’ve got a large pizza, half pepperoni and half cheese and a two liter coke. here in the notes it says you asked for the ‘cutest delivery guy’ but i was the only one on duty so... i hope you’re not too dissappoin—wait, y/n?” he has finally looked up and his shock cuts him off before he can even finish his sentence.

you smile, awkwardly. “hi yuta.”

he raises a brow. “you ordered this?”

you nod. “um, yeah. i didn’t know you worked at a pizza place.”

he shrugs, sheepishly. “i know it’s nothing glamorous but it’s something. i’m just trying to save up as much money as i can right now.”

“well, good for you,” you say, genuinely.

he stares up at you, his lips curving up into a small smile and you mirror the expression.

“okay.” joy drags out the word, dramatically. “jinsoul and i are gonna head out now. catch you guys later!”

“i think we can stay and have one slice of—ow! what’d you pinch me like that for?”

“we’re leaving,” joy says, through gritted teeth.

joy excuses herself and jinsoul unwillingly follows before they walk out your front door, not even bothering to grab their stuff from upstairs.

you clear your throat, resenting how painfully bad your friends were at acting. “so, uh, how much?”

“it’s on the house.”

you fold your arms, teasingly. “that seems too good to be true.”

yuta smiles and you realize it has not once left his face. “maybe it is.”

you lean against your doorframe. “what’s the catch?”

“i get to eat this pizza with you,” he responds.

his boldness stuns you into silence. nakamoto yuta wanted to spend time with you?

“you can definitely say no,” he adds, sensing your shock. “and i’m extremely sorry if i overstepped.”

you can’t seem to shake your head fast enough. “no, no, no! i would really like that.”

you swear you see a relieved smile appear on his face. “oh, good. i mean, your friends just left and i would hate for you to eat alone, you know?”

you can hardly contain your happiness at the fact that yuta was just as bad an actor as joy and jinsoul. “well, that’s an offer i just can’t refuse.” you step aside so he can enter your house.

“nice place,” he comments, looking around.

“thanks. um, you can just set that over there if you want.” you point towards your kitchen.

yuta obeys, placing the food on your dinner table. he takes a seat and you quickly grab plates and cups for the two of you. not even a minute later you’re both stuffing your faces with food.

“how can you work around stuff this good and not be craving it every second?” you ask him, wiping your face with a napkin.

“seeing how much grease they dump into this helps kill the craving,” he says, honestly. “besides, i don’t really like pizza that much.”

you opt to ignore the first part and motion to the half eaten slice on his plate. “looks like you like it.”  

he shakes his head. “trust me, the only thing i like here isn’t the pizza.”

you want to take his comment as a compliment but you didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. besides, you were starting to get used to his bluntness. “you know, we haven’t talked much but i can just tell you’re an open book.”

he smirks, not agreeing nor disagreeing. “well, most people don’t know a thing about me. i’m just the strange japanese guy. how do you see me?”

you tilt your head, staring at him deeply. “i see you as someone who knows his likes and dislikes. doesn’t seem like you’re one to hold back.”

“i could the same about you. not just anyone points out someone else’s snoring, much less calls it cute. that takes guts.” the smirk on his face grows at seeing you bury your head in your hands.

“oh god, i don’t know what i was thinking. if you could just erase that from your brain it would be greatly appreciated. i’d rather not seem like a dork to you.”

“well, i liked it. no one says that type of stuff to me especially since i’m kind of...” he trails off, brushing his bangs out of his face. “i’m kind of reserved.”

you nod. “i’ve noticed. to be honest, i’ve always wanted to get to know you for that exact reason. i’m glad you’re letting me.”

he looks up at you. “seriously?”

“yeah. everyone thinks you’re this big ‘mystery’,” you make air quotes, “but i’ve always just thought you were interesting. from what i’ve gathered, you’re a really good guy. everyone should give you a chance.”

it takes him a moment to respond. “wow, you think that? that’s... very nice.” he takes a sip of his coke but you sense he’s not finished speaking so you wait. “you know, it’s been a while since someone has given me a chance.”

you frown. “well it’s their loss.”

he chuckles. “you remind me of sicheng.”

you freeze. you knew this was a sensitive topic.

“i mean you’re both so different but... similar?” he shakes his head. “i dunno. maybe it’s how transparent you are. and you’ve got really big hearts too. it only shows with certain people but for some reason, you both show it with me. because you both see me for who i am.” 

“sicheng sounds wonderful,” you say but you secretly relish in the way he sings your praises.

“he is. i miss him. you know i think about moving to china a lot. or even back to japan. just anywhere away from here.”

you try your best to hide your disappointment. “what for? if you don’t mind me asking.”

“i don’t really know. i just want to feel a sense of belonging. i don’t have that here. that’s why i picked up this job, to save up for an escape in case it all gets to be too much for me.” he sighs. “it’s stupid to run from my problems, i know.”

“i don’t think it’s stupid. i mean, firstly you’re a foreigner coming to an entirely new country and school. then you meet someone and form a bond only for him to leave. you close yourself off a little but who can blame you? it’s tough. you’ve been through a lot.”

he smiles, proudly. “this is exactly what i mean. that’s something sicheng would have said. it would have probably been in chinese and way more aggressive but essentially the same thing.”

“really?” you run a hand through your hair. “wow, he must be insanely wise then.”

yuta laughs at your self praise. “did i forget to mention that you’re both extremely humble?”

you pensively tap your chin. “hm, might’ve left that one out.”

he nods. “must have.”

you fiddle with your fingers. “okay, this may be super random and i may be completely out of line but i, uh, hope you stay.” he only offers you a half smile so you continue. “i mean, it’s totally your decision but i feel like i’m finally getting to know you after so long and i really enjoy your company. i could introduce you to a couple of my friends and i could add you into our group chat. and we could sit together at lunch! we could even like partner up for projects and stuff and—“

“i would love that,” he interrupts. his voice comes out so soft it’s almost a whisper. it’s like he’s been waiting for this exact moment for his entire life, like you just took the words out of his mouth. “oh god, i’ve been wanting this.”

“really?” your voice comes out way louder than intended. “sorry, i’m excited.”

“and i’m the cute one,” he says, referencing your comment from earlier once again.

“when will you let that go—wait, what do you mean by that?”

he stands, grabbing both your plates and cups and making his way towards the sink. “catch up! you’re cute! actually, i think you beat sicheng in that aspect.”

you put a hand over your heart. “you don’t know how much of an honor that is.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “i can’t believe i have such a huge soft spot for such a huge dork.”

“wait, am i the dork?!”

“oh my god, you have got to catch up!”

[vannahfanfics]

Eternity

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: Sora, Kairi

Hey, hey, everyone! You know what it is— another story for @sokaiweek​, today for the prompt “Eternity”! Can you believe it’s almost over? :c I hope at least I’ve given everyone a fill of SoKai lovin’!

She stood a little over knee-deep in the surf, her fingers skimming over the foamy waves as she watched the sun sink toward the horizon. She always stared so thoughtfully at the setting sun, as if it told her secrets. A little smile graced her lips from their silent conversation, like she was chatting with an old friend. However, the strange aura of nostalgia that surrounded Kairi with the sunset was one of so many things that Sora found beautiful about her, and so every day he watched her from the shore while she had her ritualistic discussion with the dusk. 

The water kissed the toes of his shoes as he sat just out of reach of the tide. In and out, the water pushed and pulled, dying the fine grains of sand dark brown as the water soaked in. Thalassa shells drifted in the waves, sometimes settling within the sand and sometimes washing back out to sea because they were destined for a journey that was a little longer. Sometimes Sora felt like a thalassa shell born by the waves, drifting between worlds where the tide’s whims carried him— but now, at last, he thought it time to settle upon a shore. 

The ring box was heavy in his pocket, the corner digging into his thigh as a careful reminder it was still present. The perfect ring for the perfect woman, nestled in a little tuft of white velvet. He shifted in the sand, impatience eating away at him, but he had not the heart to interrupt Kairi’s vigil. No, she would come in from the water soon enough, and then he would ask. 

As if she sensed that today would be different, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled radiantly. 

“Sora!” she called. “Come join me.” Entreatingly, she extended her hand to him, and how could he refuse? Smiling, he pushed himself up, sand raining down from the back of his pants. He kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks, then waded out into the surf. The sand still clinging to the dark fabric of his pants swirled away into the waves, settling on the squishy bottom with the rest of their brethren. When Sora slipped his fingers into Kairi’s, the pad of her thumb swept lovingly over the top of his hand before tugging him toward her. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she murmured as he walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and settling his cheek on the top of her head. He only hummed in agreement because the sunset’s beauty paled in comparison to Kairi’s. Still, it was a gorgeous display— the blue of the sky gradually bled into yellow, then orange, then burning red around the bubbling yellow ball. The wisps of clouds were dyed with the hues, stretching like red yarn over the sky. The ever-shifting waves refracted the dying light like glittering gems, sparkling with a brilliance to rival the stars slowly blotting into existence. Of course, Sora was too captivated by the way the sunbeams played over the auburn of Kairi’s hair to make it shine golden-orange. 

“Sora, you’re not looking,” she complained, and when she turned her head to pout, he just buried his face into her gorgeous tresses. She smelled like sea salt and paopu fruit, and it was a scent he could never get enough of. 

“I’m looking at something beautiful, just not the sunset,” he smirked into her hair, and his grin widened when he heard her inhale sharply. Even after years together, he could still fluster her so easily. It was so cute. 

“Stop teasing,” she groaned, wiggling in his grasp; it only made Sora hug her tighter and nuzzle into her scalp. 

“I’m not teasing. I’m serious.” He peered around at her face to see her trying not to smile but dismally failing, and her blush shone opaline pink in the dying rays of the sun. Chuckling, Sora pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch with a reverent sigh. She turned her face toward him, silently petitioning him, and before giving her what she desired, he kissed the tip of her nose. She scrunched it up with a loud whine, prompting him to chuckle before finally kissing her on the lips. 

They kissed there in the waves while the sun bathed them in its warm glow, as if time didn’t exist for them at all. It didn’t, not to Sora, at least; time stretched on for an eternity when he was with Kairi. Every second was an hour for him to savor; every minute was a day to taste the sweetness of her lips; every hour was a week to have her in his arms with her delectable aroma rushing into his nose and her gentle touch sending butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

Even so, Sora wanted to hear her commit to that eternity. He wanted to promise it to her at the altar. He wanted to tell her that he wanted her for an eternity in his vows, and then he wanted to spend that eternity with her. 

So, that’s why he found himself huskily whispering against her lips, “I have something for you.” 

“You have something for me?” she giggled, and he just responded with a rumbling hum while he fished the ring box out of his pocket. When he pulled back, her eyes were glittering with anticipation and delight. He held the ring box behind his back in one hand while he guided her to turn around with the other, but he couldn’t resist pressing another lingering kiss to her forehead. 

“I love you,” he murmured, and he couldn’t put the depth of his love into physical words no matter how hard he tried. “I love you,” he breathed against her skin once more, and this time Kairi giggled and told him to get on with it and that she loved him too. Smiling, he pulled back and then showed her the ring box. 

She inhaled sharply, and then exhaled when he flipped open the small box to reveal a silver band inlaid with pink sapphires. 

“Sora…” 

“I want you for a lifetime, Kairi,” he told her, and she looked up at him with watering eyes. He smiled brightly, tilting his head slightly as he continued, “I want to be with you for a lifetime. I can’t imagine not spending the rest of my life with you by my side, so please… marry me?” Emphatically, he held the ring out a little more, and the sunlight caught on the gemstones to make them gleam. Kairi just stared down at them with tearful eyes while she held her hands over her heart, and he allowed her a moment to find her words though the suspense was literally killing him. 

“Of course,” she breathed finally, looking back up at him. “Of course! Oh my goodness! Sora!” 

He cried out in alarm when she sprang at him, and he lifted the ring box above his head to keep from dropping it in the water. She latched her arms around his neck while she smothered his face in kisses and tears and giggles, and Sora did his best to try and return the favor though she was all over the place. Finally, she settled down enough to allow him to slide the ring onto her left ring finger, and she took a moment to gaze lovingly down at it. 

“It’s beautiful…” 

“Sure,” he smiled softly, “but I’m not looking at the ring.” 

And he never would, because there was nothing more beautiful to him than the woman he loved with all his heart, nor the beautiful life they were about to spend together.

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