#maybe like. 3 paperclips

[weaselishmcdiesel]

can i offer a paper clip for you to vote jimmy solidarity for the comedy appeal of it. imagine this absolute non-sexyman loser getting one more ranking up and then absolutely getting his ass kicked against scott/pete it’d be glorious

Yeeeesh jimmy solidarity? going against gem? thats gonna be a lot more expensive than just one paper clip :/ lots a people want gem to win im sure!

[luveline]

Hi !!! Can I request something romantic between shy reader and spence? maybe he’s like trying to teacher her something and they’re alone? IDK WRITE WHATEVER U WANNA RIGHT ILL EAT IT UP REGARDLESS <3

Your stomach hurts and you need to pee, but you’re stuck. You’ve been trying to submit your virtual paperwork for the last two hours. Why have they made it this difficult? You’re beginning to wonder if you’re being hazed. 

Spencer told you it was easy. Well, he’d put a cup of tea on your desk (for which you hadn’t asked but gratefully accepted), seen you were starting your paperwork, and said, “I’ll see you for lunch in half an hour?” with a knowing smile. 

You’d smiled back. You want to be in the know with him, even if you’d needed a ten minute recovery period after he left to learn to breathe through your nose again. 

But it became clear after half an hour you wouldn’t be taking lunch, let alone joining him. Nervous sweat dampens your hands and the back of your shirt, and your face burns with heat —why is the office scorching? You’re in hell. 

You click another button, sure you’ve found the right process, but a yellow triangle appears with an exclamation mark inside. Function suppressed, it says.   

“Oh, good,” Spencer says, approaching from behind, a coffee. “I thought you stood me up. You’re struggling with the system?” 

“I wouldn’t say struggling.” 

“You don’t need any help, then?” 

“Please,” you say softly, worried someone else will hear you. You don’t want anyone in the team nor the unit to realise how inept you are. It’s bad enough that Spencer’s cottoned on. “I can’t get it to work.”

“I was kidding,” he says, smiling tentatively at you. “Let me get my chair.” 

Spencer tortures you sitting beside you, knee to knee and arm over your arm as he guides your mouse to the right page, then the correct paperclip. His watch falls down his wrist and brushes your skin with each direction, spurring chills all over. “You’re pretty much done,” he says. 

“I don’t know why I was so confused,” you say bashfully. 

“Because it’s a confusing system.” He smells like warm vanilla. You wish you could ask him about it, but you’ve a job to talk this close to him. 

“Thank you for helping.” 

He clicks through the last part of your file to check for any missing paperclips before he sends it off. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he secretly hates you, he takes your arm into his hand with achingly careful fingers. “Are you cold?” He rubs at your goosebumps. He has really nice hands, with strong veins. He moves purposefully. 

Another rush of goosebumps down your arm. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows tugged together worriedly. 

“I’m just,” —mortified— “embarrassed about the paperwork. I didn’t know there would be this many online responsibilities involved, I would’ve looked them up.”

Spencer’s eyebrows rise as your sentence ends. You’d mangled ‘looked them up’, said it breathless as his hand curled around your fingers. 

“Don’t worry about all of that. You can always ask me for help. Right? I sit right there.” He points to his desk. “Did you forget?”

Something about his tone suggests that he already knows you didn’t forget, but he takes your thank you gracefully, and continues pretending you’re cold rather than physically affected by his touch. He’s nice like that. 

“Here, in case you’re still cold,” he says, too casual, draping his suit jacket over your shoulders.

Not that nice. 

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

Summary: You and Eddie face a familiar nemesis at a Teacher Appreciation luncheon, but the rewards that come with your strengthened relationship are far sweeter.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), semi-public sex, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), choking, spanking, praise kink, orgasm denial, breeding kink, creampie, Carol Perkins makes an appearance

WC: 9.6k

Chapter 18/20

Divider credit to @saradika Eddie pic credit to @eddiemunsonsmum

Out to lunch

Be back soon

That’s the message hastily scribbled onto the sheet of staff paper Scotch taped just above Rock Records’ hours of operation. Innocuous enough; a sign that has been posted on many a small town storefront. But if anyone is listening closely, they’ll hear Guns ‘N Roses still playing over the tinny sound system—not to mention the moans drifting from Eddie’s managerial office. 

Eddie has you laid back on the desk, your legs hooked over his shoulders. His fingers grab onto your thighs with such ferocity that his rings threaten to leave indents on your supple skin. He’s on his knees, a man possessed as his tongue glides over your clit. 

“F-Fuck, Eddie! Right there!”

You can feel him grinning against you, obviously pleased to be catapulting you into this blissful spiral. He tugs you just a bit closer, the subtle movements of his jaw apparent as he laps at your pussy. His own noises nearly drown out yours; the way he devours you has him smacking his lips together greedily. You’re a feast, and he doesn’t intend to leave a single crumb behind. 

Your legs tremble and your toes curl, back arching to create a small gap between you and the table. Somehow, you manage to sit up just enough to reach out and lace your fingers through the strands of hair that have escaped his ponytail. 

He’s acutely aware that you’re watching him, though he doesn’t see your awestruck expression as you take in the sight before you. A sheen of slick and saliva coat his chin, evidence that his efforts are far from futile. 

He’s so beautiful between your legs, worshiping your pussy like it’s a deity, leaving nothing untouched. His cock strains against his fly as it seeks the warmth of being inside you. 

“I’m close, baby, s-so close!”

He knows he should stop now, forcing you to beg him to let you finish, but he simply can’t deny you. Maybe some of it is selfish; making his girl come is just as satisfying as his own orgasm. The way you chant his name, body shaking as unbridled ecstasy takes over. 

Your free hand swoops across the table, knocking to the ground a small stack of papers and a paperclip box. Everything scatters along the carpeted floor. “Sh-shit, ‘m sorry—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Eddie growls, two thick fingers gliding in your wet sex as he speaks. “Don’t you dare do anything but come for me.”

That shuts you up, save for the wanton moans you exhale as the coil in your belly snaps and relief floods your body. 

You barely have time to catch your breath before Eddie is pulling you and bending you over his desk. Your elbows hit the table, but you’re still floating too high to brace yourself for pain. The soft clink of his belt buckle coming undone and his zipper teeth opening have you clenching around nothing. 

He hikes your skirt up even higher—your lace panties already snug in his back pocket—and taps the head of his length on your ass. You’re so wet that you’re glistening, and he grabs the Trojan from his wallet before rolling it over himself and pushing into you. 

“Thassit, mmm, fuck,” he grunts, filling you fully until he bottoms out. “You knew what you were doing when you came here, didn’t you?” One arm wraps around your waist as he thrusts up into you. “Pretending like you just wanted to visit. Yeah, right.”

You grin victoriously. Eddie didn’t normally work on Sundays, but when he picked up a last-minute shift for a sick co-worker, you had to jump at the opportunity. 

His pace intensifies as your body brings him to his own release. If you were at either of your places, he would still be eating you out, not stopping until he had you in tears. He wouldn’t even care if stickiness pooled in his boxers, but he has no spare pants to change into, and he certainly can’t get caught with cum-stained pants while on the clock.

His hips piston a bit faster, hand dropping so his middle finger can readily find your clit. As soon as you whimper, already overstimulated all the fullness within you, he’s a goner. You can feel his heart racing when his chest presses to your spine, even through your respective shirts.   

“‘M right there, oh, fuck,” Eddie hisses, teeth gritted in concentration. He throws his head back and grabs a handful of your bare ass, smacking it for good measure.“So good, so fuckin’ good f’me.” Every syllable is punctuated with another snap of his pelvis. The heart pendant hanging from your necklace bounces against your chest with each movement. “‘M coming, coming all f’you, take it, baby.” He spills into the condom with a satisfied groan, the force of his final thrusts sending you over the edge.

His plush lips leave tender kisses along the side of your neck, delaying his inevitable withdrawal. “That was…holy shit,” he breathes with a kind laugh. You wince as he pulls out of you, already far too empty for your liking. Nimble fingers knot the used latex, dropping it into the wire trashcan beside the desk. 

“Y’okay?” Eddie asks when he notices your silence. Worry creases his brows. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His gaze drops to the flesh he’d just spanked, gently running his palm over it in an attempt to soothe. “I might’ve gotten carried away—”

“‘M good,” you reassure him, having finally found your voice. You giggle as he breathes an audible sigh of relief. “I like when you’re a little rough with me,” you admit, heat creeping up the back of your neck. 

Eddie cocks his head. “Yeah?” He fixes your skirt, ensuring that everything is covered, before tucking himself back into his jeans. 

“Yeah.” There’s a shy smile on your face as you turn and face him, leaning in so your mouths can meld together. His hands cup your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, tongue tentatively nudging yours as though asking permission. You eagerly allow him in, one finger hooked on his belt loop. 

Even when he’s playing a dominant role, withholding your pleasure until he sees fit, it’s no less intimate than when you make sweet, sensitive love. Relinquishing autonomy carves out a path for security and respect, two facets that Eddie takes to heart. He’s learned to read your body like a map, knowing exactly where to touch you—and where not to touch you—and how to bring you to your tipping point. 

“How am I supposed to continue my shift after that?” he asks, still remaining close enough that the slightly chapped skin of his lips scratch yours. The two of you exchange breaths, utterly intoxicated on each other. “Gonna be thinking about my perfect girl the rest of the day.” His teeth gently nip at you when he speaks. “This beautiful face…beautiful hands…” He drops to his knees and pulls your waist closer to him, hands strong on the small of your back. “Beautiful stomach…beautiful legs…”

You laugh, fully and heartily, unable to take your eyes off of the man paying reverence to your body. “Eddie, get up,” you chastise teasingly, stumbling a little as he clings to you harder. “And give me back my panties.”

Eddie pouts, lower lip jutting out in anticipated protest. “But–”

“I have to go grocery shopping,” you tell him, trying to reach into his back pocket to grab at the lacy fabric sticking out, but he shifts away too quickly. “You want me walking around Bradley’s all exposed?”

A mischievous grin spreads across Eddie’s face, activating the dimples in his cheeks. “Well…”

You cross your arms over your chest, snug underneath your breasts. “Really? What if I have to bend down to get, I dunno, peanut butter? And then some random guy–or maybe someone we know, like Jason Carver–” your nose wrinkles, disgusted at the mere mention of his name, “what if he gets a glimpse of–”

“Okay, okay, you win.” Eddie huffs, standing up as he tosses it over. You triumphantly slide them back up your legs, feeling your cooled slick from earlier in the afternoon against your core. “But only because I don’t want anyone else seeing what I get to see.” He delicately bites your earlobe, well aware that if he continues down this path, he’ll be hard again.

You shiver at his subtle possessiveness, fighting the temptation to undress him and beg for him to be inside you again. The desire is so overpowering that you almost forget the second reason you’d stopped by the store this afternoon. 

“Eds? Could I ask you for a favor?”

“Shit, baby,” he laughs, snaking a hand up your shirt as he sucks on your neck, “I’d give you a fuckin’ kidney right now if that’s what you wanted.”

“‘M serious,” you press, hoping his doesn’t notice the way your voice catches in your throat. His thumbs center on your bra cups, caressing the underwire and letting his fingers slip underneath. “Th-There’s this teacher appreciation luncheon that the PTA is hosting, and we can bring a date.”

The unspoken remainder of your question bears a hefty implication: a public confirmation of a relationship previously only fueled by the small-town rumor mill. 

Eddie is unfazed by your hesitance, enchanted by the soft skin below his calloused palm. He’s determined to memorize it, each dip and curve and the way you fit perfectly in his hands. “When is it?” His breath tickles your exposed neck. He doesn’t wait for a response before adding, “I just have to ask Wayne to watch Harris.”

“Saturday. A-A week from yesterday.” You swallow your nerves, wondering if he’s going to pick up on the reason behind your anxiety. If he’ll feel it, too. “But there’ll probably be some parent volunteers there, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You grimace at the thought of him walking into the room, shell-shocked when he sees their unwelcome sneers. “They need a final headcount tomorrow,” you don’t add that the invitation had been sent earlier last week, and you’d been putting off asking until the last possible minute, “but if you can’t, or you don’t want to–”

He interrupts your rambling with a kiss, sloppy in its urgency. “I don’t care if Mrs. O’Donnell herself shows up. I want to go.” 

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says with a dismissive wave. “The point is, I’d love to be your date. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he grins, conspicuously adjusting himself over his pants, “one of us has to work.”

You swat at his backside, hitching your purse over your shoulder and smoothing down your skirt again. “Need anything from the store?”

It’s an innocuous question; you’ll just add whatever he says to the list you’ve scribbled on a piece of scrap paper, safely tucked away in your bag. To Eddie, it’s enough to tug on the corners of his lips, which he tries to hide by scratching at the shadow of stubble on his cheeks. It creates an image of the two of you sharing a home, Harris sitting at the kitchen table with a bowlful of cereal, as you prepare to do the family shopping. Or maybe the three of you would go together, Harris helping push the cart while scouring the shelves for whatever sugar-laden junk food he’s obsessed with that week. Later, Eddie would lean over to grab a bag of apples from the produce department, hand gently brushing along your back as he does it. He doesn’t care who sees; hell, he hopes everyone notices the way you allow him to touch you so casually. No shame, no pretending. You might even intertwine your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, claiming him in your own way. 

“Nah, baby, ‘m good,” he tells you, chuckling when you shoot him a knowing look. “Fine, Harris could use some more mac and cheese. Whatever’s on sale.” 

You make a mental note to pick up a few boxes, lips gingerly kissing Eddie’s nose like a butterfly perched on a daisy.

Eddie watches the sway of your hips as you leave his office, fingertips pressing into his desk as he wracks his brain to determine how he’s managed to conjure up the luck to be with you. He’d always assumed that he’d never find someone who understood his unconventional experiences, who recognized the puzzle of emotions that accompanied those memories.

He hadn’t considered the prospect of meeting you: a person who not only saw his brokenness, but the whole parts of him, too. A man who loved his son with a fierceness that envied a mother bear’s, whose passion for music kept him afloat during the most trying years of his life, who couldn’t quite turn his back on his dreams despite the entire world seemingly persuading him to do so. You saw the good and the bad and loved him for all of it.

He certainly never thought about what it would feel like to love wholly. He recalls the fateful night in the emergency room, when he began to realize the lengths you went to for the people you cared about. The time he’d burst into your classroom after the conference with Ms. Marion, and despite his previous pattern of behavior, you’d comforted him and offered to spend your free time tutoring Harris. Even the gig when he saw you for the very first time and let his lust lead the way, fate had the last laugh when you fell asleep in his arms like you were made to fit there. 

And then there are the less-than-ideal parts of you. The way you keep your feelings bottled up until they boil over in a flood of emotions that Eddie is still learning to sort out. The way you forget to take care of yourself in favor of looking after others. The way you believe you are simultaneously too much and not enough, allowing your insecurities to stampede over any and all logic. 

It’s what makes you human, what makes you you. And Eddie loves you even more for letting him see that side of you. 

If loving someone fully–and being loved fully–means confirming the gossip about the teacher and the freak, he’ll do it one hundred times over for you.

Your phone rings mere minutes after you finish packing away the groceries. Food shopping on Sundays is always the worst; stores are overcrowded, filled with parents and children losing their patience, and you’re fairly certain that you spent more time waiting in line to pay than you did actually perusing the aisle. You pluck the ripest banana from the bunch and peel it as you cradle the receiver between your cheek and shoulder. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby.” Eddie’s voice is honey-dipped on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Eds.” You lean up against the wall, body already feeling lighter. “You and Harris’ll be glad to know that I have secured the macaroni and cheese.”

There’s a sound of movement from his side, and you hear him say, “Har Bear, Ms. Sweetheart got your mac and ch–hey, give me that–”

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris bellows, and you instinctively move the phone from your ear at the sudden noise. “When are you gonna come to my house and play?”

You laugh, struck by his enthusiasm. “Soon. I promise,” you tell him, meaning every word. Your heart swells at the thought of you, Harris, and Eddie working together to construct a Lego building, both Munsons deep in concentration with their tongues poking from their mouths. “Can you put your dad back on the phone?”

“Okay!” he chirps. “Bye! Love you!”

“Love you, too, Har.” You’re fairly certain that he’s already dashed out of the room, never one to sit still for long, but it occurs to you that he doesn’t even need to hear you say it back. He just knows that you love him in the way that you keep a smile on your face as you gently help him sound out new words, or chase him around the playground until you’re both winded from giggling and running, or share in his excitement at any accomplishment.

Eddie clears his throat when he gets on the line. “So, uh, I forgot to ask–what am I wearing to this luncheon thing?” He’s praying that it’s nothing too upscale; new clothes are not exactly within his budget right now.

To his relief, you say with a teasing lilt in your tone, “A button-down shirt and some jeans without holes in them, if possible.” You take a small bite of fruit, chewing as you speak. “Sneakers should be fine.”

“I can manage that,” he laughs. He doesn’t want to end the conversation yet, so he chooses to ask the first question that comes to mind. “Whatcha eating?”

“Banana.”

“Shit.” He clutches the phone cord in his hand, nearly yanking it out of the jack. A long exhale shoots static through the receiver. “Don’t do this to me.”

It takes a moment for you to figure out what this is. “Eddie Munson,” you start, not even trying to mask your amusement, “are you getting turned on because I’m eating a banana?”

“And now you’re making fun of me? In my hour of need?” He tuts softly, making you laugh even harder. “Evil, evil woman.”

“That’s me. I’m just the worst.” You take another bite to knowingly torture him.

“The absolute worst.” Eddie amends. He tucks his thumbnail between his teeth., incisor digging into the exposed crescent moon. His joking intonation makes way for authenticity as he says, “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too.” Your voice is small but strong, so assured in your declaration to him. “See you tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll bring the coffee.”

The buzzer rings promptly at noon on Saturday, just as you’re swiping on a final coat of lipstick. You take a look in the mirror, giving a quick twirl as your green lapel floral button-up dress flows out around you and recentering the heart pendant on your necklace. 

Your Mary Jane Doc Martens are loud on the floor as you shuffle to let Eddie in. There’s no denying the way your stomach flip-flops with excited anticipation. You’ve seen him dressed up before: at Grandma’s funeral, on your Valentine’s Day date, but the sight never gets old. 

He’s standing in the doorway, looking every bit as delicious as you’d imagined. His maroon button-down is neatly tucked into black jeans, cuffs rolled to his elbows and showing off his myriad forearm tattoos. He’s freshly shaved, and you can see a tiny red speck where he’d accidentally nicked himself with the blunted razor this morning.   

“What d’you think?” he asks, spinning around in a way that’s almost identical to the 360-degree view you’d gotten of yourself. “Harris said I look too fancy, but I didn’t have time to change, so…”

You shake your head. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” you tell him truthfully, arms wrapping around his waist as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “There’s just one thing.” You tug at the rubber band that encases his curls in a low ponytail until it slides onto your wrist, setting his hair free. “There we go.”

Eddie frowns, haphazardly smoothing down the hair that’s already beginning to frizz despite the mountains of product he’d applied in a futile attempt to tame it. “Y’sure?”

“Positive. You look more…” You consider your words carefully, “…more like you with your hair all wild like that.”

“That’s a good thing?” He cocks his head in disbelief, and you can’t help but kiss him again. This time, you let your tongue explore him as your fingers twist into the cotton blend of his shirt. His hands start on your cheeks, then gradually work their way down to your ass. A sudden grab of the supple flesh has you yelping slightly, muffled by his mouth on yours. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says with a laugh, the tip of his nose nudging against your earlobe. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he murmurs, inhaling the floral scent of the perfume you’d meticulously sprayed on your pulse points. 

A familiar need builds at the apex of your thighs, and if your suspicions are correct, Eddie feels it, too. The temptation to undo every last one of his shirt buttons is strong, sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a blade. 

Surprisingly, it’s Eddie who breaks away, though it takes every ounce of willpower to do so. “C’mon, let’s get going,” he whispers, chuckling when you pout in defiance. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that you’ve come to learn means he has something up his sleeve. “Don’t worry, babe; when we come back, I plan on showing you a little teacher appreciation of my own.”

The tantalizing scent of Italian food permeates Hawkins Preschool’s cafeteria, replacing the usual smell of freezer-burned chicken nuggets and fries. Green and gold cloths cover the tables, with the buffet from Enzo’s at the front of the room, a small crowd having already gathered to grab some food. 

You spot Will immediately; he waves you over to a table in the corner. Marshall is seated next to him, offering an enthusiastic smile as you set your purse down on the bench. 

“Go get something to eat,” Will tells you and Eddie, motioning to the spread. “We can watch your stuff.”

Eddie needs no further convincing; Enzo’s has been considered a delicacy for the Munsons since it first opened. He can probably count the number of times he’s eaten there on one hand. You watch as he eyes the options, silently calculating how much he can fit on his paper plate. 

“Food from this cafeteria never looks so good,” you joke softly, so only his ears can hear. “Wanna take a little of everything? And we can split it?

Eddie nods, picking up a serving spoon and digging clumsily into the tray of lasagna. Marinara sauce oozes over the sides of the oversized utensil as he scoops out a hearty serving. The piece lands on his plate with a plop, and you take a step back to avoid it splattering on your dress. He apologizes quietly, but you just smile and pick up a napkin, dabbing at the stain forming on his shirt collar.

“Haven’t even been here five minutes and I’m already making a mess,” he grumbles, using the tongs to snag some chicken parmesan, much more deliberate in his actions. 

You click your tongue in mock disapproval. “I really can’t take you anywhere, huh?” You fish out a meatball, sopping with sauce, from another foil tray before serving a generous portion of the house salad. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat the olives,” you tease, flicking some dressing over the pile of greens. 

Eddie uses the hand not balancing his plate to grab two knives, two forks, and a fistful of napkins. “Shit,” he mutters, glancing at the bottles of Poland Spring nestled at the end of the table, “we need drinks.”

It takes a minute for you to mentally assess the situation before you figure out a plan. “Give me that,” you point to his plate, crooking your finger and motioning towards yourself until he hands it to you. “Now you can get the water.” Your conscience tugs at you, aware that this goes beyond beverages and some spilled sauce. “Hey,” you say softly. If you weren’t holding two full plates, you would rest your palm on his bicep and give it a squeeze. “It’s just you and me, okay? Everyone else is background noise.”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles tightly, wedging the two bottles between his elbow and his ribs. Background noise is the perfect description, considering that you’re the melody that plays on a loop in his brain, yet he never gets tired of hearing it. His internal song had been entirely composed of bass notes, and you’re a treble clef. 

The two of you sit down next to Will and Marshall, who waste no time making conversation. 

“So, Eddie,” Marshall starts, twirling spaghetti around his fork, “I know these two wrangle kids all day; what do you do for a living?”

“I manage Rock Records, over on Porter,” Eddie says, chest swelling with pride. Selling for Rick required him to pretend like he was unemployed or ‘between jobs,’ often earning him judgmental side-eyes. Now, he can answer honestly and without shame. “What about you?”

Marshall chews and swallows before answering. “I’m in sales at Bell Atlantic, but, uh,” he reaches over and takes Will’s hand, “I’m thinking about moving to Hawkins, so I’ll have to find something new, unless I want to commute to Indy every day.”

You lean over the table to wrap Will in a hug. “Congratulations!” you exclaim, eyes bright with excitement. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“It’s not official yet,” Will clarifies, though he readily accepts your embrace, “but we can start the process once Marsh gets a job here.”

Eddie rubs his jaw thoughtfully, using the side of his fork to slice the meatball in half, then half again. “Sales?” he repeats, spearing a piece of food. “I think our sales department is hiring, actually. If you give me your resume, I can push it through.”

Both Marshall and Will light up at the idea, beaming from ear to ear. “That would be amazing!” Will chirps. 

“Thanks, man,” Marshall says gratefully. You can see the gears turning in his head as he pictures his future with Will coming to fruition. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“‘Course.” Eddie swipes his tongue over the sauce in the corner of his mouth and smiles. “When you find someone who’s willing to stay in this town for you, you gotta hang on to them.” His fingers drape over yours, thumb grazing your bare ring finger. “Trust me.”

Your body warms at his touch, sunshine radiating through you from the inside. You want to remind him how absurdly easy he is to love, that you’d live anywhere as long as you could guarantee falling asleep in his arms each night. If you could bottle up the fuzzy feeling that you get every time he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing purposeful kisses along the nape, you would do it in a heartbeat.

A peal of cruel laughter hooks into you, unwillingly drawing your attention from the conversation to the woman standing off to the side. She speaks as though she’s trying to talk under her breath, but you know that you’re meant to hear her. “Told you, Steve: the teacher and the Freak,” she says with a smirk that you’re tempted to smack clean off of her face.

Your fingers clench around your fork so forcefully that it threatens to snap in half. The fact that anyone could be in their third decade of life and still build themselves up by cutting others down is absurd to you, perhaps because you spend most of your time teaching children the importance of intentional kindness. 

Adrenaline surges through your veins in a classic battle of fight versus flight as you weigh your options. You could release the scream that you’ve trapped in your throat, throttling her with a barrage of hurtful words until she’s a sniveling mess. It’s too tempting, and you would have a difficult time talking yourself out of it if she wasn’t your student’s parent. 

You could act like you hadn’t heard her, as improbable as that possibility is. It’s certainly the more mature decision, and one that would ensure your job security, but that just fuels the brewing anger with the knowledge that Carol would win whatever messed-up game she’s playing. 

Eddie sits next to you, facing a similar silent dilemma. He could turn heel and run, storming off in a fit of fury, assuring himself that you’d be fine with Will and Marshall. He could shrink into himself until the moment passes and Carol moves onto a new target. He could leap on the table like he would have back in high school, make a scene and embarrass the hell out of everybody–but that would include you, and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

He can tell by the way your jaw goes rigid that you’re holding back, that you’re trying to remain professional. An involuntarily grin twitches on his lips as he thinks about you eschewing all maturity and absolutely laying into Carol. He knows you can’t do that, as much as you both want to. 

But he can.

“So glad you could take a break from cheating on your husband to be here, Carol.” He keeps a bright, innocent smile glued to his face as he feigns enthusiasm. You have to bite your lower lip to stifle a cackle; out of the corner of your eye, you can see Will covering his mouth and nose to keep from spitting out the sip of Pepsi he’d just downed.

Carol’s face blanches, obviously not expecting Eddie’s retort. Steve Harrington wasn’t either, and the “ha!” that escapes him is evidence of it. When Carol shoots death glares at him, he just shrugs, raising his brows as if to say, if you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen.

With a muted string of swear words that none of you care to decipher, Carol huffs and stomps off. Steve glances for a moment, rolling his eyes at her theatrical display. “Sorry about…” he gestures vaguely at her sulking form as she whines to another parent unlucky enough to be in her warpath. “Anyway, um, my wife is at home with Josh, but we’re so grateful to both of you for everything you’ve done for him.” He gives a half smile, nodding at you and Will. “Not just with, like, school stuff, but teaching him how to play with other kids without it turning into a WWE Smackdown.” He sucks his lips to his teeth and shakes his head with a small laugh.

“That’s our job!” you chirp, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, still riding the high of watching Carol slink off, proverbial tail between her legs.

“Well, it means a lot,” Steve continues, pink tinging the apples of his cheeks as he confides, “especially because he’s going to have a little brother or sister in a few months. He was actually telling us how he’s excited to share his toys with the new baby. We thought Hell was freezing over.”

Pride swells up in Eddie's chest while he rubs your upper back; a small gesture with incalculable meaning. That’s my girl, he muses, eyes widening when you scoot into him so his arm drapes over your shoulder. You lace your fingers with his and pull them down so they graze your bicep as you continue talking with Steve, as natural as can be. No shying away, no denying the existence of the teacher and the Freak. You claim Eddie as yours, and a soft kiss to your temple claims you as his. 

The conversation with Steve ends shortly after that, and you congratulate him again on the upcoming addition to the Harrington family. You, Eddie, Will, and Marshall decide to head out once you’ve finished eating. 

“Thanks again, man,” Marshall says as he shakes Eddie’s hand. “I’ll swing by on Monday with my resume.”

“Don’t mention it.” Eddie claps him on the back. Truthfully, he’s just grateful to not be the person receiving help. The universe had granted him chance after chance; it’s about time he’s able to do something for someone else. 

Will turns to you just as you all near the double doors, illuminated by fluorescent lighting and a bright red EXIT sign. “Did you bring home the rest of the progress reports?”

You throw your head back, blowing out a breath of frustration. “Shit, I totally forgot.” You rifle through your purse until you find the silver key that’s been shoved to the bottom and make an about-face towards your classroom. “You’re a lifesaver. I owe you big time.”

“Just give me a special mention in your Teacher of the Year speech,” he jokes, but you catch the sparkle of admiration in his eyes at your dedication—even if it follows a memory lapse. 

Eddie trails right behind you as you unlock the door, dropping the key back in your bag for safekeeping. “Sorry, babe,” you apologize, “I just need to grab the papers and we can get out of here.”

“Take your time.” He plops down in the chair behind your desk, fingers thrumming along the oversized calendar you’ve marked up with various due dates and events. “I’ll stay out of trouble. Wouldn’t want to get…punished…or anything.” He looks up at you with a knowing smirk that droops into a frown when you ignore his entendré. 

He swivels around when you move from the right side of your desk to your left, rummaging around for a clip to provide some semblance of organization. “I can be the teacher’s pet, y’know,” he continues, one fingernail lightly trailing up your arm. “I’m not opposed to doing whatever it takes to get an A.” Broad hands broach either side of your waist, but you pull away to pluck a Post-It from the stack and stick it atop the reports. 

It’s when you lean over to grab a pen that the pent-up tension becomes too overwhelming for him; the way your ass is perfectly framed by your dress has him awestruck. Mine, mine, all mine, loops through his head as he tugs on your hips so you’re sitting on his lap. 

“Don’t mind me.” His lips slowly kiss down your spine, busy fingers bunching your dress fabric up your thighs. “You keep doin’ what you gotta do, pretty girl.”

You exhale with a tired laugh. “The sooner I get this done, the sooner we can go home and you can show me some of that ‘teacher appreciation’ you promised.” 

“Or,” Eddie counters, turning your chin so you can see the adorable pout he’s now sporting, “I could appreciate you right here.”

“Eddie!” 

“Yeah, say my name,” he mumbles, half-teasing while still relishing in the way it sounds on your lips. “C’mon, can’t we just fool around a little bit?”

You swoop down to kiss him, tongue discreetly slipping into his mouth as your fingers curl into his hair. His hands roam your body, already fumbling with the column of buttons down your back. While he’s distracted, you break away and stand up, leaving him noticeably hard beneath his slacks. “Nope.” 

He lets out an anguished groan, but ultimately relents so you can finish your work undistracted—save for the throbbing between your legs. With a hasty scribble of your Bic pen, you label the last of the reports and clutch the stack to your chest. 

“We can go now,” you tell him, and he’s standing up and practically running out the door before you can finish speaking. 

Your back is turned to him while you lock up, but you can still hear him skid to a stop and blurt out, “Sorry, Mrs. Sinclair.”

Your boss’s laughter trills through the hallway, and you can feel your tension ease until she asks him, “What’s got you in such a hurry?”

Don’t say something ridiculous; nothing that’ll make it impossible for me to show my face on Monday. You squeeze your eyes shut in desperation, anxiety absolved only when he replies, “Just gotta pick my son up from my uncle’s place.”

“How is Wayne doing?” There’s a smile in her voice. “Is he still working at the plant?”

“Uh-huh. Cut back his hours so he can spend more time with Harris.” Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets and sits on his heels to disguise the tented crotch area. “A-And how’re Lucas and Erica?” 

“Oh, they’re great,” Sue chirps, seizing the opportunity to brag about her children. “Lucas told me he saw you at Will’s party; he’s really doing well with his sports management business. And Erica just graduated, pre-law, and she’ll be off to Harvard in the fall.” She rests a hand on his shoulder, concern creasing her brows. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Eddie nods overzealously. “Y-Yep. Feeling great. Everything is, uh, peachy keen.” He gives a thumbs-up to solidify his statement, and you have to stop yourself from snickering. 

As soon as they say their goodbyes, you shuffle over to your flustered boyfriend, wrapping him in a hug from behind, hands resting on the soft pudge of his tummy. “‘Peachy keen?’” you prod, giggles bubbling in your chest at the mere mention of his word choice. “I was expecting you to throw in a ‘jelly bean’ at the end there.”

Eddie reaches around and pulls you so you’re tucked beneath his shoulder. “You’re so fuckin’ lucky you’re cute,” he quips, but the way you eagerly snuggle into him serves as a reminder that he’s the lucky one. 

Gray clouds have been threatening a storm all day, sagging low in the sky with oversaturation. The air is thick with humidity when you and Eddie make your brief walk to his car, the telltale first drops of rain staining the pavement and permeating the atmosphere with a dewy scent. 

There’s a clap of thunder just as you’re fastening your seatbelt and Eddie’s turning the key in the ignition; it startles you both more than you’d care to admit, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rain pours in sudden opaque sheets, dashing any dreams you had of fooling around on your drive home; all of his focus is centered on getting you home in one piece. You settle for resting your hand on his knee, missing the usual rips and tears in the fabric so you can easily make skin-on-skin contact.

Eddie grips the wheel at ten and two, keeping a steady foot on the gas pedal as he crawls along the uneven road. His tongue pokes from between his lips as it often does when he’s concentrating. Drops thwack against the sedan’s hood and drown out the sounds of the Dio cassette he’d popped into the stereo system on the ride over to the school. At this point, he could be playing Alanis Morisette; the combination of the rain and the vigorous back-and-forth of the windshield wipers is too noisy for him to tell the difference.

The fifteen minute drive to your apartment takes an additional ten, but you’re both just grateful to arrive in one piece. You both take a few seconds to pause, assessing the intensity of the storm. You’ll be soaked by the time you reach the front door even if you take off your heeled shoes and dart barefoot through the parking lot.

“We can wait a few minutes and see if it slows,” you offer, but the constant rainfall has you questioning just how long you’ll be sitting in the car.

Eddie is thinking similarly, because he just shakes his head and kills the engine. In the absence of the music and the wipers, the pounding raindrops are even louder. He practically has to shout for you to hear him. “I say we make a run for it.” He grips the door handle, and you do the same. “On three. Ready?” When you nod, he begins counting. “One…two…three!” 

The doors fly open with the force of your own strength and the howling winds. You shriek as cold water pelts your skin, gluing your dress to your body so the formerly loose garment hugs every curve. 

You slip your hand into Eddie’s as the two of you race towards the tattered green awning covering the building’s entrance. It provides little shelter, but it’s better than nothing as you scramble to unlock the door.

“You even look pretty like this,” Eddie muses, clicking his tongue against his cheek. “‘S kind of ridiculous, y’know that?”

“You’re kind of ridiculous,” you laugh, wringing the hem of your dress before pulling the door open. Eddie catches it behind you, holding it so you can walk ahead of him. Once inside, he shakes his hair like a dog fresh out of the bath and flicks water everywhere: the already slippery tile floors, the glass window panes, and even you. You try and glare at him, but your giddiness betrays you, already heading towards your unit in hurried anticipation of his full and unadulterated attention to your body.

You’d left the fan going in the apartment, and the chill instantly infiltrates your bones. Your arms instinctively wrap around your torso, but Eddie’s having none of it. 

“C’mere, pretty little thing,” he coos, unraveling you before cradling your cheeks in his hands, nose brushing yours. “Lemme warm you up.” 

He says this, but his actions have the opposite intention. His fingers fly to your dress buttons with unbridled urgency, fumbling with the hooks to no avail. He could easily stop kissing you long enough to properly attend to the task, but that’s seemingly not an option. “Fuck it,” he swears against your lips, and before you can question it, you feel a rush of cool air against your back. A dozen tiny buttons clatter to the ground as he nearly rips the dress in half, already sucking on the skin above your collarbone. 

“Been wanting to do that all day,” he confesses, pushing the torn fabric down until it pools around your ankles, leaving you in only your bra, panties, and shoes. “Baby, baby, baby; you got me so hard it fuckin’ hurts.”

You can feel him, the way his cock strains against his pants like it’s begging for release. “I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, undoing his button and zipper with far more grace than he undressed you. 

“If it’s lingerie, can we save it for another time?” he asks, exhaling as he gets some relief from the pressure in his jeans. “Because if you’re not naked in the next ten seconds, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

You laugh at his candor. “Nope, not lingerie.” His teeth dig into his lower lip as you cup his bulge over his boxers. “Remember a few weeks ago when we talked about our fantasies?”

“Mhm. Vividly.” Eddie smirks as his hand snakes around your throat, not gripping it quite yet, but the motion still awakens the butterflies in your stomach. 

“W-Well, I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago so I could get on the pill.” Your words have him frozen in place, and he steps back to assess your facial expression. 

“Like, the pill?”

“The pill,” you confirm with an excited giggle, starting on his shirt buttons to reveal the white tank top beneath. “So we can, I dunno, play pretend until we’re ready for the real thing?”

His eyes practically roll back in his head. “Fuck, I fuckin’ love you. Holy shit.” It’s not just the fact that you’re about to let him finish inside you—although he certainly has no complaints about that—but it’s mostly the way you’ve embraced his most intimate desires. He’s been conducting some research of his own to learn how to dominate a partner, waiting for the perfect opportunity to showcase his newfound knowledge. “Need you. Now.” His voice trembles on the last word despite the strength behind it. 

The two of you stumble into your room, shedding your remaining clothes in a trail towards the bed until you’re both wearing nothing at all. Eddie grabs your ass and squeezes, growling in desperation. “Perfect body, Jesus Christ. Was made f’me.” His lips attach to your exposed nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue over the pert bud. He switches to the other, slotting his leg between yours so his thigh presses against your core. 

“Eddie, please.” You make no attempt to mask your desperation; the feeling of your slick on his upper leg would give you away regardless. “I’ve been thinking about you filling me up…just…please.”

He nods, letting you lay back on the mattress so he can climb on top of you. “You want my cum, baby?” He leaves delicate kisses on your stomach, so close to your pussy but still too far. 

“Mhm.”

“Then you gotta earn it.” He’s smirking at you, delighted to watch you squirm needily. “Leaning over in front of me at the school and then not even letting me touch you?” He tuts disapprovingly. “Doesn’t sound like something a good girl would do.”

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry,” you whine, “I swear I want it.” Your breath hitches as he slides one finger inside you, keeping his other hand in a tight fist around his cock. 

He strokes himself, deliberate in each motion, never breaking eye contact with you. “Bet you wish this was around that pretty little throat of yours, huh?” He increases his pace. “Bet you wish I was inside you, too—don’t touch yourself.” His sudden gruffness leaves you taken aback, and he smacks your hand away from your clit before you can even start. “I never said you could do that.”

You whimper while he goes back to jerking himself, arching your back to bring him deeper. 

“Y’want more? Use those words, Sweetheart.”

“More, more, I need it.” Nothing would be more delectable than being split open on his cock, your bodies bringing each other pleasure. There’s a small pressure as he adds another finger, not the fullness you’re craving but still satisfying nonetheless. “Eddie, fuck,” you moan as he curls them both, drawing you nearer to orgasm.

You think he’s finally going to give it to you when he lets go of his hardened length; instead, he wraps his newly free hand around your neck.

And, oh, the pathetic mewl that you let out as his grasp tightens, bewitched by his display of possessiveness. You teeter on the edge of release until he permits you, but there’s no holding back once he grunts, “your pussy’s got a fuckin’ vice grip on my fingers.”

You’re not quite sure why that does it for you, but it leaves you writhing beneath him in ecstasy. “Thassit, come f’me. Sweet girl, so eager that she can’t even wait for my cock.” He tilts his head thoughtfully, comically casual compared to the way he’s controlling your own actions. “Tell me: is it the fingering or the choking that’s got you like this?”

“B-Both,” you stammer; Eddie squeezes your throat in response. One ring has been spun around a sweat-slicked finger, and it carves a skull-shaped design into your delicate skin. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m–” Passionate intensity overpowers any further conversation, replacing words with strained, high-pitched moans.

“Good girl,” Eddie praises, his harsher dominance briefly fading and a softer side takes over as he works you through your orgasm. You feel the simultaneous loss of his fingers around your neck and inside your cunt, but you’re immediately distracted by him bringing his fingers into his mouth and sucking off your release. “You’re as delicious as you look.”

You smile, eyelids fluttering as your overstimulation subsides. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths as you collect yourself. “That was…” The synapses in your brain struggle to fire as you come down from the high. You prop yourself on your elbows. “Really, really good.”

His body sags with relief. “Wanted to make it perfect for you, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your lips tenderly. “Wanted to give you exactly what you asked for.”

“You did,” you promise him, shivering as you shift positions and lose the addition of his body heat. “And now…it’s my turn to make it perfect for you.”

Eddie’s about to rebut that it’s already perfect because it’s you and him drawing pleasure from each other’s bodies, when you maneuver onto all fours. “Oh, honey,” he groans, grabbing a handful of your ass, but he doesn’t broach your entrance right away. You twist so he can register the confused look on your face. “Just takin’ a mental picture for when you’re not around.” His eyes scan your body, erection throbbing against his stomach. “Mmkay, ‘m good.”

He pulls on your hips, signaling you to scoot back so he can align himself. The bare head of his cock nudging your hole has you trembling anticipatorily. Slowly, deliberately, he pushes into you. You can feel every ridge, every vein, his silky skin against your walls. “You…” he searches for a proper description but is betrayed by the blood flowing away from his brain. “Holy sh-shit.” 

He’s still for a moment, just soaking in your direct warmth. His hips snap forward after what seems like eons; the fullness within you is heavenly. You could keep him inside forever with nary a complaint.

Eddie, meanwhile, is just grateful that he’s already made you come on his fingers, because he can’t imagine lasting long enough to do it again. The part of you that can still compile a cohesive thought realizes this, too, and you reassure him “take what you need, baby.”

“O-Okay.” His tone is tentative but his movements are not, finding a pace that makes his body hum. His brown eyes are glued to where you two connect, watching himself slide in and out. The soft shlick that comes with each thrust, your wetness drenching his dick more and more, is his own personal celestial chorus. There’s nothing separating you from each other anymore.

He’s addicted to you, the way you fill each of his senses in a perfumed cloud of desire. A patch of stickiness coats his upper thigh; he realizes that it’s your release trickling out of you and onto him. “Love when you cream my cock, mmm, fuck.” One hand lets go of your hip and cracks down on your ass, skin rippling under the sudden contact. 

You let out a euphoric yelp, embracing the sting. Your cunt tenses around him with each plunge. “Just thinking about feeling you come inside me,” you purr. “Are you going to watch it drip down my legs? Hmm?”

Eddie shakes his head before he remembers you can’t see him. “N-Nah, ‘m gonna…” a grunt disrupts his sentence, “‘m gonna stuff it back in this pretty little pussy. An’ you’re gonna keep it inside.” He breathes in audible gasps as his pace increases. “Like my good–little–girl.” The last three words are each punctuated with a thrust.

“Want it to take s’fuckin’ bad,” he continues, the admission spilling from his lips involuntarily. “Want everyone to know that you’re mine, and only mine.”

You brace your body weight to your forearms, lifting your ass in the air to allow him impossibly deep. “Bet I’d look really good having your baby, Eddie. All cute and pregnant for you.”

That has him imagining you in the same position you’re in now, only his palm is splayed on the swell of a baby bump, your tits heavy with milk to nourish the life growing within your body. He spills into you without warning, just him crying out your name as he lets go. True to his word, he swipes at whatever cum has dripped out and gingerly pushes it in your pussy.

He flops down on his back, completely spent, not bothering to clean the rope of cum that now adorns his softening length. You rest your head on his chest, his cooling sweat matting down the sparse hairs and sticking to your temple.

“I love you,” he murmurs, fingers running up and down your arm. His lips easily find your forehead for a kiss. “You’re it for me, okay? Please don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t.” And you mean it. “I love you, too, Eddie.”

The two of you drift in and out of sleepiness for nearly an hour, safe in each other’s embrace, before he stirs you awake. “I gotta go get Harris in a few minutes,” he says, laughing when you groan your reply. “I know, I wish I could stay here forever.”`

“What if you did?”

Eddie furrows his brow. “I think that’s a little more babysitting than Wayne volunteered for.”

You swat at his chest playfully, rolling over so you can see his face. “No,” you laugh, nuzzling into his jaw. “I meant…what if you and Harris moved in once your lease is up? No pressure,” you rush to add, “but this is a two bedroom, so Harris could have his own space. I know you’ll have to think about it; I’m not looking for a decision right–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie interrupts kindly, silencing the ramble with a peck on your nose. “I don’t feel pressured. Trust me, if I didn’t have a kid to take care of, you’d never get rid of me.” He sighs and stretches, sitting up against the headboard, and you follow his lead. “Our lease is up at the end of next month. You’re the kid expert here; is that too soon to spring this on him? Will it, like, fuck him up irrevocably?”

You exhale, thinking about the best course of action. “Why don’t you ask him how he’d feel about it? Worst case scenario: he’s not ready and we’ll revisit it again in the future.”

“Are you sure? You won’t be mad or anything?” He’s treading cautiously as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. He loves Harris more than anything in the world, but there’s no denying that having a child furthers the complexities of dating.

You take his hand in yours and hold it tight. “We’re a team,” you remind him, kissing his bare shoulder. “Not just me and you, but Harris, too. I love you both, and I want you both to be happy here.”

Eddie’s heart could burst; he doesn’t know whether he needs to laugh or cry or some messy combination of the two. A team, you’re a team, and teammates stick together and look out for one another and keep each other afloat in choppy seas. It’s what he’d always wanted but never thought he’d have, or even deserve.

Now he’s got it, and he swears he won’t let it go.

Eddie dives right into the subject at dinner that night, not wanting to lose his nerve. He sits next to Harris, cutting a hot dog into bite-sized pieces and making sure that it doesn’t touch the pile of baked beans on his plate. His son has recently begun refusing to eat foods that have come in contact with each other, even if he likes both of them.

“Hey, Har,” Eddie starts, carefully sliding the paper plate in front of him. “I have a question for you.”

Harris barely pays attention, too fixated on getting the ketchup out of the bottle and onto the hot dog pieces. The bottle makes a pfft noise when he squeezes it, making him giggle. “Daddy, the ketchup farted!” He repeats the motion again and again, finding it funnier each time.

“Yeah, that’s silly,” Eddie halfheartedly agrees, taking the bottle from him. “But, Harris, I need to ask you something important.” He picks up his own hot dog wrapped in a slice of Wonder Bread and takes a bite. “How would you feel about me, you, and Ms. Sweetheart all living in her apartment?”

Harris’s eyes widen. “Like, together?”

Eddie nods. “Mhm. We wouldn’t live here anymore, but you’d take Grandma’s old room, and we can decorate it however you want.”

“I’d have my own room?”

“Yup.”

This provides more questions than answers for the young boy. “But then where are you gonna sleep?”

Eddie coughs to mask his laughter, not wanting to offend Harris’s curiosity. “Um, well, Ms. Sweetheart and I would share her room.” Our room, he thinks, wiping his mouth to hide a smile at the thought of you waking up in his arms every morning.

“But you’re not married.” Harris spears a piece of hot dog with a plastic fork. “You gotta be married first.”

“Sometimes people get married before they live together. But sometimes they do things out of order.” Like meet at a bar and hook up, only to find out that she’s your kid’s teacher, and then you loathe each other until you start to fall in love. “And that’s not a bad thing.” He measures the consideration on Harris’s little face. “But we’ll only do it if you’re okay with it. It would mean we’d have to pack up our stuff in boxes and bring it to Ms. Sweetheart’s place.”

Harris jumps up from his seat, nearly knocking over the food. “I have lots of boxes! We can start right now!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie puts up a hand to stop him, chuckling as he motions for Harris to come closer to him. “We have a few weeks before we can do anything. But are you one hundred percent sure–”

“YES!” 

Eddie pulls his son in for a hug, tickling his sides and kissing the top of his head. Happiness fills their home, though it won’t be their home for much longer. “I love you, kiddo,” he mumbles into Harris’s hair.

“Daddy?”

“Ya?”

“Can we call Ms. Sweetheart and tell her?”

Eddie wipes his hands on his jeans, making a mental note to sweep up any crumbs later. “I think that’s a great idea.” He stands up and practically sprints to the phone. He can’t dial your number any faster if he tries.

You pick up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sweetheart.” You can hear the smile in his voice through the receiver. “We’re in.”

--

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[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters: Would They Be Good at Pulling Pranks?

Yesterday was April 1, aka April Fools Day, a holiday that encourages people to pull pranks. So that got me wondering: if such a holiday existed in the Cosmere, would various Cosmere characters be good at this whole "pranking" thing?

1. Syl: Yes, but only of one type

Syl is a prankster in canon: she likes to stick things together! Your shoes to your floor, your hand to your spear, your butt to your chair...so yes, she is great at pranks. I bet if April Fool's Day existed in the Cosmere, she would be an absolute menace.

2. Lopen: Depends on who you ask...

I think Lopen's pranks would be like his jokes: not intended to be mean, but actually kinda mean. In Dawnshard, Lopen came to learn that his jokes were not universally fun and beloved, and I feel like his journey with pranks would necessarily be similar. He'd love pulling them, though!

3. Wayne: Yes, and everyone has fun

Sanderson once said that the difference between Lopen & Wayne is that Wayne can read the room. So I think Wayne would not only like pranks, but would also be more aware of their effect. Like...if Lopen is tying your shoelaces together when you're late for work, Wayne is putting googly eyes (which he invented) on all of your family photos while you're out.

4. Sarene: Yes (mostly against Iadon)

Sarene, Miss Malicious-compliance-and-weaponizer-of-other-people's-misogyny, would love an excuse to "accidentally" prank Iadon. She'd either do really obvious pranks and blame them on feminine confusion ("Oh dear I just wanted to clean but I guess washing your portrait ruined it??") or do really sneaky pranks that no one could trace back to her (cut to Sarene secretly weakening the seams on all of Iadon's clothing so that a good sneeze will make them all fall off).

5. Kaladin: Not anymore

We know that in canon Kaladin pulled pranks as a kid--he told Tien to save a lurg to dump in their dad's bath later. But I feel like nowadays, Kaladin is too gloomy and glowering to pull pranks. He might just enjoy Syl's sometimes though...

6. Steris: Maybe they're just not the most creative...

I think that if a Pranking Holiday existed, Steris would study up and do a textbook prank. Like, she's replacing Wax's sugar bowl with salt, and then he drinks a sip of salty coffee, and then she says, "Ah ha! You have been Pranked per the Social Conventions of today's Holiday!" And Wax would be genuinely delighted.

7. Dalinar: No--not at any point in his life

Blackthorn Dalinar would think a prank is "stabbing a guy in the leg and laughing." Modern-day Dalinar would be puzzled that anyone actually does pranks--aren't they, you know, kinda beneath you? The Codes would DEFINITELY not allow them.

8. Sigzil: No, too much paperwork

The Prank Authorization Form is 7 pages and takes 5 weeks for review and approval. Who has that kind of time???

9. Lift: Yes, absolutely

I can see Lift positioning buckets of water over, like, Dalinar's door or slicking the floor right as that merchant she saw yelling at kids walks by. Now--imagine Lift & Syl going on a prank spree together. You're welcome.

10. Hoid: Nobody knows

Hoid put paperclips in the pockets of every single one of Elhokar's outfits. He put edible glitter into Rock's stew, turning it into Glitter Stew. He found one of Kaladin's buttons on the ground and straight-up ate it while making direct eye contact.

But...were any of those things pranks? Were they plots? Were they just Hoid being Wit?

Nobody knows.

[imasoftieforbarb]

OHMIGOD HI!!!!!! can i drop off a little john dory x reader request?? where reader is also an ex-celeb, but ran away from the public to get away from all the crazy fans and excessive fame? perhaps they were friends before, then reader ran away and JD's emotional stress w/ reader leaving added to him wanting to leave brozone/them breaking up? n mayyybee reader n JD meet up after the events of band together?? or somethink idk!!!! thank you bug :3

- paperclip anon 🖇️

John Dory x ex-celeb Reader

You low key are each others pillar

He would rant to you about how it sucked to be the eldest and all the responsibilities

You complained to him about the crazy fans and the stress of being famous

He noticed that you were acting weird the last time y’all met

So when he got to the meeting place- and only found a note?

He got super stressed out

He also felt betrayed and had a lil cry

This is when he decided to start stressing on being perfect

Maybe you’d come back if you saw how perfect the band was

It got too much, and he left

You’d left to go explore and be yourself

So he was gonna do the same thing

Totally wasn’t gonna look for you

After the band was back together, his brothers were asking about his girlfriend and where she was

He was like ?????? What girlfriend???

“You’re not dating Y/n?”

He’d be so gagged

Questions everything in the span of three seconds before his brain reboots

Has a quick vent about it to his bros

Everyone decides to go look for you cause obviously you gotta reunite the long lost lovers

Queen Barb rings up and is like “heard you were looking for my cousin?”

Now everyone is questioning everything

They found you on a little island off the lava coast of Rock

John Dory stays outside cause he wasn’t sure if he was gonna shout at you or cry

You came out side after the brothers told you what was going on

Y’all had a heart to heart, you apologized for leaving without saying a proper goodbye- explaining that you did so because if you saw him you wouldn’t be able to leave

He tells you the impact it left but also apologized for not being the best friend he could’ve

Then you pause-

“We weren’t dating?”

“I DONT KNOW ANYMORE”

It takes a while for feelings to be recognized and trust issues to be solved

But y’all end up being the cutest goddamn couple ever

You rent your cabin out for steady income and stay with JD in Rhonda

She likes you

More than she likes JD

[the-littlest-lily]

30 Days of G/t Self Care

I'm not fully sure where this idea came from, but here we go! I do enjoy a fun little daily challenge, and like most things my mind went to “but how can I make it G/t?” And here we are! Just in time for the new year, a 30 day self care challenge but… sizey. I wanted to make an actual calendar thing, just in time for the new year (though it can be started at any time, it's not specific to January). Check the days off, spread them out over a longer time, pick out just the ones that speak to you, whatever you want to do 😊 Here's the guide to go with it.

Day 1. Set aside a few minutes to take some deep breaths and focus on the present moment. To help ground yourself, perhaps wrap yourself in a blanket and imagine you are in a large, lovingly grasping hand, or hold a small item and imagine it's a tiny friend.

Day 2. Revisit some nostalgic G/t media. What first got you into this? Let yourself reminisce and remember why you love this in the first place.

Day 3. Make G/t art. It can be anything! Drawing, writing, crochet, pottery, you name it. No need to hold yourself to a certain standard or show anyone else, just take some time to be creative. Even if you don't deem yourself an artist, give it a shot and see if you enjoy it!

Day 4. Relax with a word search puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 5. Try out this journal prompt. If you could be tiny/big at will, what types of things would you do to relax? How might you extrapolate from this and apply it to your real life?

Day 6. Stretch your body today. What imaginary setting could you give yourself to make it G/t? Are you surrounded by gigantic furniture in your mind’s eye? Perhaps the yoga video on your phone helps you pretend you have a tiny instructor?

Day 7. Listen to some G/t music. This could be anything, from sizey music videos to songs with sizey lyrics to the Arietty soundtrack.

Day 8. Practice gratitude by listing out all the little things you're thankful for. (See what I did there?) Add some big things to the list for good measure.

Day 9. Practice stepping out of your comfort zone a little bit by talking about G/t, out loud if you’re able. Whether it's discussing with a friend (you brave soul), recording yourself on your phone (you can immediately delete it), or just mumbling to yourself in the shower. Maybe you’ll realize you want to make a G/t podcast and we all win!

Day 10. Here's a little creative prompt. Arrange everyday items to make a G/t scene (use toys, miniatures, or even fashion a tiny person out of paperclips or paper). Take a picture, share it if you like!

Day 11. Create a cozier space today to enjoy your G/t content. Grab some blankets, make yourself a snack or some tea, light some candles, whatever sounds nice to you. Sometimes it's making a mundane moment special!

Day 12. Make yourself something healthy to eat. While you prepare it, imagine how different the task might be to carry out if you were very big or very small. Maybe even have some fun making your snack in miniature too.

Day 13. Try out some affirmations today and see if you can make them both sizey and relevant to your life. Ideas of mantras could be “I am allowed to take up space,” “I choose to appreciate the little things today,” “I will achieve great things through small steps.”

Day 14. Go out into nature for some fresh air. Lean in close and pay attention to the small details, perhaps imagining a shrunken version of yourself or a small friend exploring.

Day 15. Challenge yourself to learn a new skill today to bring your Gt ideas to life. Maybe it's learning how to code, or making your own VR avatar, or learning a new art tool or technique. It's finally time to watch that tutorial you've been saving! 

Day 16. Pull out your dream journal, or start up a new one! Maybe we’ll figure out the whole lucid dreaming thing and come close to experiencing Gt, wouldn't that be the dream~ If this doesn't resonate with you, maybe start a journal to jot down your Gt daydreams instead!

Day 17. Relax with a crossword puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 18. Try to cross a few to dos off your to do list someday. Make it more fun by adding in some joke tasks in there, like “leave out a snack for the fairies” or “prep for borrowing trip tonight” or “meet with giant friend for coffee.” Maybe even schedule some real life Gt tasks - such as “work on chapter 2 of (Gt story you're writing)” or “plan a VRC hangout”.

Day 19. It's time to dress the part! Is there any way you can dress up or accessorize yourself in a sizey way? Maybe you have an oversized hoodie, or a necklace of a tiny Eiffel tower, or an old shirt with Tinkerbell on it. Did you know you can actually buy Arietty’s giant hair clip thing? Or if this better scratches your creative itch, maybe your objective is to make tiny accessories for a toy or figurine.

Day 20. Take some time to rest. Just allow yourself to lay down in a quiet, cozy setting for at least a few minutes and have some dedicated G/t daydreaming. 

Day 21. Try out a new exercise routine and use your G/t imaginings to make it more fun. Watching a new workout video? You’re a giant visiting the gym and that's your human instructor on the screen. Spontaneous dance session in your room? You're a fairy frolicking in a field of enormous wildflowers. Going for a swim? You're actually crossing a vast ocean, or maybe a small glass of water.

Day 22. Check out a new G/t story. Not a big reader normally? Just give it a shot!

Day 23. Give yourself a pamper night, whatever that means for you - face masks, cucumber water, a warm drink, candles, the works. Pamper night (face masks and stuff)

Day 24. Make or buy something for your G/t interests (miniatures or toys, “max”iature like a giant flower pillow, fairy-themed stationary, make a giant paper mache strawberry, etc)

Day 25. Relax with a coloring page. You can use any of your favorite artist’s lineart (just make sure to get permission and/or proper attribution if you want to post it). Here's an example option from me.

Day 26. Make a list of all the things you love about G/t. It's always nice to remember the various ways this interest might benefit our lives.

Day 27. Motivate yourself to try out a new hobby by making it G/t. Take that pottery class you've been meaning to take and make a giant acorn-shaped mug. Get into cosplay so you can dress up as a borrower. Dabble with watercolors and you may end up becoming a G/t artist. Study a new language and enjoy new sizey media you couldn't understand before. Whatever speaks to you! 

Day 28. Do a favor for your future self and make a self care kit for when you're having a hard time. This could include a journal or affirmation cards, or perhaps some grounding items like fidget toys, stress balls and mints. Add a little something G/t in there too. Perhaps some kind of miniature with an interesting texture, or a fidget toy in the shape of a person, or a stuffed animal of a giant ladybug to hug. 

Day 29. An act of kindness can do wonders for our mental health. Send someone in the G/t community a kind comment today, whether it's a long-time friend, someone you just met in a Discord group, or a comment to your favorite G/t artist. 

Day 30. Reflect on all the activities you’ve tried during this self care challenge and journal about it. What have you learned about yourself? What might you incorporate more into your self care routines going forward? Pat yourself on the back for investing some time and attention into yourself - you deserve it!

[ash5monster01]

Maybe some Macgyver as your bf headcannons? I love your content! <3

omg I’ve actually never done head cannons before but there are so many I have for the MacGyver fandom it isn’t even funny.

So without further ado, here is my very first attempt.

At least once a week he attempts to cook you dinner. He hates feeling like he’s taking advantage of you since you always cook for him, but he’s so bad at cooking it’s the only thing that makes sense. So you let him try and keep the pizza delivery guy on speed dial.

Whenever he leaves for a mission he makes sure to text I love you at the last possible minute. That way you know how he feels and he doesn’t have to hear you say it back or else he’d never end up going.

He loves teaching you how to fix his motorcycle. Sometimes he breaks something just so he can continue to teach you new things. Hence why it’s still in the living room.

When he proposes he makes your ring out of a paperclip. (I know he made Desi’s ring in the show but something about a paperclip and a broken piece of glass as a diamond suits him much more)

He always goes to Jack for relationship advice. Even if Jack has a zero percent success rate in relationships, no matter what he has the right thing to say.

He never buys you gifts. He makes absolutely everything. One time he even made you a necklace before even considering buying it.

You constantly argue about him not having curtains in his room. You argue that it’s like waking up inside the sun and he argues that you should already be up when the sun is up. You also argue that at any given moment your friends could be on the deck and see you messing around.

He loves when you kiss his scars. Considering he’s got many from field work and bullet wounds from previous relationship casualties. He was always insecure about them until you.

Same goes for his moles. Especially the one on his neck. It’s normally the first spot you kiss and he appreciates it since kids used to pick on him for them in school.

Mac often gets nightmares. When he does you make sure to wrap your arms tightly around him without waking him up until he calms down.

I definitely have more but I will leave you with this for now <3

Masterlist

[satureja13]

Have I ever told you how much I like these crime games? Some of you might know how much I struggle to keep up with something due to my ADHD (a glorious exception are the Boys ^^') But I was able to finish this book for my games/current case! I haven't been able to craft a bigger project for a while so I'm very proud of myself lol and I thought I show you.

I can reuse this book over and over again for new cases and it's made out of stuff I already had at home: amazon packaging, printouts, envelopes, tea dyed paper, wallpaper, a belt, the lock is from an old suitcase I found, paperclips, stamps, fabric and the metal book corners are made from a tomato paste tube...

These games come with a bunch of documents and I like that I can sort them now and that I'm able to find them quickly instead of having them in a heap. It takes me a few days or even weeks (when I get distracted by someting else ^^') and with this book I can put everything quickly away and return as quick to my research again.

I also made little writing pads and a notebook. The most fun I had with the paperclips. You can make them so quickly and they are so pretty and useful (I use them as tabs and to keep the documents in place)! Just fold a strip of paper in a 'w' shape, glue the metal paperclip inside and decorate. Ready! If you are interested in doing sth like this, don't hesitate to ask, I'm happy to help and share links to to the amazing youtubers I learned from!

I came into crafting only late in my life and I have so much fun. I wish I discovered the joy of it earlier but I never thought it could be something for me. Art class in school was so discouraging and I always thought I don't have the patience/talent for it. Then I went into rehab and we crafted and I kept on crafting ever since ^^' (Maybe you remember when I posted about my tarot book I made a new cover for or my amazing tool case I posted a while ago?)

The box in the pic below is a chocolate packaging I glued some tea dyed paper on :3

I also made a little booklet:

Did you know that you can make tape out of almost everything by using doublesided tape? Here I used old book pages. The dangles are made from cardboard and napkins :3

That was a fun little project and it's also a nice gift. I printed out the AI edits from my Mount Komorebi screenshots to decorate the pages. When you look close you can see Kiyoshi and Kiri in the pic on the left.

[sinning-23]

My Latest crush is an alien car from space Pt.2

Okay so iwasnt expecting so many Mirage smps to like up my post but HEYYY welcome home yall lmao. Heres part two and let me know is yall want like a tag list for the next couple parts. ANywhoo there's some tension that forms this chapter so start getting ready for more flirty and spicyyyy interactions with old boy.

Heres the link to pt.1

Heres the link to pt.3 shawty

ANywho ENJOY!

Pt.2

Touch me softly 

Mirage had allowed you to explore his anatomy, and he was more willing than you thought. You had managed to make a nice little sketch of his body and made 4 separate copies to try and get a placement in where everything was. Then you had 5 more separate sheets just in case there were some more internal systems you wanted to note. He watched as your eye brown pinched and formed a line on your forehead and your fingers guided the pencil to the paper. 

“Wow, you drew me kinda sexy.” He jokes making you draw a breath trying to hold back a laugh. 

It really wasn’t sexy, it was about the equivalent of the Vitruvian man drawing and basic anatomical positioning for a robot. He watches you stand, hair pulled back, yet a couple of braids still fall in front of your face. He’s quiet, looking at the way you focused so intensely on exploring him.

When you gestured for him to move his leg, he did so without complaint, the feeling of your soft, warm hands under his exteriors heating him up from the inside. Of course, you’d never know that unless you kept poking and prodding. 

“Ok so compared to me, and well, other humans I’m sure your overall body parts are called different things. So let’s start from top to bottom, yeah?” You suggest, eager to learn. 

Mirage kneels in front of you, giving you an opportunity to see better. You’re much smaller than him, but he could tell when you stood next to Noah you were definitely average human height. Small to him but normal to everyone else. 

“Alright I hope you’re ready cause there’s a LOT.” He explains, clearing his throat as you move closer to his face just to see better, he blinks a bit, getting used to the feeling.

You smile slyly, placing your hand under his chin to  guide his face, 

“Let’s start with your face. Stick out your…tongue?” 

He opens his mouth and lets the ‘flesh’ inside lol out before speaking 

“Gloth-ah” he announces and you tilt your head in confusion, only for him to repeat.

“Glossa” 

You nod prodding at what you soon learned was his helm and face plates. You brush over his vocalizer for a moment and he hums, high-pitched enough to be a moan but not loud enough for either of you to acknowledge it. You know what you heard though.

“Whoa- lets not touch that alright ma?” He asks. 

Soon enough your trailing downward and when you do he announces each part for you to make a note of. This is the quietest he’s been since earlier today. He lets you work, touch, poke, pull, and press whatever you'd wanted. It’s not like it hurt really, but he’s never had something smaller than him want to examine at such close range and actually touch places he’d never been able to. In fact, it was kind of nice-

He yelps when you slide your hand down his chest plate and even farther under his chassis. You pull away, startled at the noise with wide eyes. 

“OK, that’s enough exploring don’t you think?” The statement is rushed and you side-eye him when what sounded like cooling fans whirred from inside.

Had you gotten him worked up? Maybe those were sensitive spots that had never really been touched like that before? You nod, not wanting to pry and ruin this newfound friendship by being a perv. You collect the papers and paperclip them together as he begins to wind down. It's about 6am now, and the sun peeks in through the garage windows. Your dad should be awake about now and- 

You gasp pushing Mirage back into the space he was originally parked in last night(even though he didn’t budge). Your dad couldn’t know about this! AT ALL! Knowing him he'd stress out and then his pressure would get too high and he’d have a heart attack and-

“Whoa hey, what the rush, mamas? Got something to hide?” Mirage questions, figuring out why you were trying to get him back into a corner. 

Was he being clueless on purpose?!

“YES, YOU! Now go back to being a car! My dad can't know about you, it might just be the death of him.” You huff out, gripping your scalp and pacing back and forth. He gets the idea, chuckling a bit before right back to that beat-up Porsche.

You sneak out the garage, tiptoeing up the stairs and into your room. And the moment your head hit the pillow, not even a tornado could wake you. 

__________

You'd be lying if you said you didn't sleep the rest of the day away. By the time you woke up it was already 3-4pm and sounded like your father was cleaning up the kitchen. You sigh, running yourself a shower considering you didn't get one the night before. Mirage was still in the garage as far as you knew and you were hellbent on getting the rest of those notes.

You step in, the water feeling soothing against your skin, steam filling up the bathroom as you sigh in relief. Thoughts of your apartment fill your head. 

‘Maybe Mirage could help with the unpacking? Or maybe not. He could be spotted and then that’s more problems for us. Mirage…..Miraaaaageee….’

Your turn to face the water, soaping up your towel as suds slide down the drain. 

‘I wonder if a car wash is the equivalent of a shower for him….does he stay a car or like…fully transformed….does he have a-‘ 

Shutting the water off you opt to pull your hair back today since youd being doing more exploring. The steam from the bathroom escapes when youleave and pad downstairs, catching a glimpse at the note you father let you on the kitchen counter

~Working late, leftovers in the fridge~

You smile to yourself, grabbing a bottle of water to try and beat the obvious heat outside and head to the garage. Sure enough, the Porsche is right where you left it. Mirage is right where you'd left him, and when you tap on the window, the doors unlock almost instantly. You flatten the back of your blue jean skirt and adjust the seat. Awfully quiet today?

“Well good afternoon to you too sunshine? You realize it’s almost 5 right?.” You joke, hearing him rev his engine and the radio humming to life with the sound of his voice. 

“You had me up all night! Looking this good doesn’t happen on its own! But how tired can I be when a pretty girl in a miniskirt‘s got her thighs on my seat?” He shoots back, making you gasp. 

“Drive you flirt, I got more notes to take. Wanna go to that garage you took me to yesterday?” You ask, using the garage clicker to leave. 

It was hot, the sun beating down on you as Mirage insisted you keep the windows down instead of running the ac. The streets were somewhat empty on this fine Sunday morning and Mirage’s only response was to drive in what you assumed was the direction to the garage. You fidget with the radio nobs and glance at the aux cord below the cd player. Maybe he did have CDs in here? You open the armrest to find nothing but-

It was easy to be nosy and explore when Mirage could drive himself, youd put that together on your own last night. There was so little you knew about him but his demeanor overall made you feel comfortable enough to ask. He was…charming. You pull the blank CD case out the armrest, and dust it off. 

“MIrage’s Mix (from-)”

The name was scratched off, well more smudged than anything. You crack the case open and slide the CD into the player, the wait for the music to start making you a bit nervous. Had he realized you'd put it in? Was it personal? You begin to regret your decision but before you could press the eject button, it began. N.W.A. blasted from the speakers, startling you for a moment but you're soon amused.  What did he know about N.W.A?

________

It doesn't take much longer for you to arrive at the garage, most of the lot being empty while the two of you enter to complete more of your research. You set your purse down, taking the papers from yesterday out and trying to organize them as he peers over your shoulder.

“Still think you drew me sexy-”

You scoff playfully and push him a bit, not moving him in the slightest but still, but he still finds it amusing. 

“Stop it, I need you to sit so I can finish. You got all squeamish on my last night.” You tease, sliding your hand down the back of his ‘leg’ and he freezes.

He kneels back down, watching your every move. Your fingers hover over his vocalizer, the warning from yesterday replaying in your mind. Right, don't touch. You skip his chest plate and chassis, watching his expression slightly change to disappointment for what seemed like only a second. Again, he announces each part of himself, the air slightly awkward and VERY quiet. Maybe now was the time to try and strike up some more conversation.

“Soooo, where are you really from?” You ask, writing down each part you trace over when he speaks. 

“Cybertron actually. Not in your solar system lil mama.” He flirts, turning his palms slightly open when you tap them. 

Servos 

"Never been?" He jokes again, admiring how small your hand looked compare to his.

'Careful Mirage your size kink is showing' he thinks to himself, avoiding your gaze.

You shake your head in response, looking at the details of his hands, moving back to his torso, purposefully skipping over the plated area between his thighs. Boundaries were definitely not something you wanted to cross, trying not to make him uncomfortable. I mean, he was willingly letting you poke around, and he clears his throat when you skip that spot.

“You, you can look if you want. And touch…ask questions. It's all good babygirl.” He offers, almost melting when you look up from under your lashes at him.

 He could practically feel his pump about to explode. Why did Earth girls look so damn pretty? Mirage couldn't wrap his head around it honestly, the feeling he got when he passes a pretty girl when Noah would take him for drives. How they would gasp if he revved loud enough to embarrass Noah a bit but also score him a couple numbers.

Talk about a damn good wingman. You were different though.

You were a softer kind of pretty…He'd seen you come into the garage so many times before you really met. The day your dad parked him in that spot, he watched you skip in with your little low-rise jeans, the piercing you sported shining in the sunlight. 

You hugged your dad, eyes lighitn up at the new car with a gasp. 

“A Porsche! Dad oh my gosh really?” You ask, seeing him nod. You squealed more, inspecting his paint job, it was just as beat up then as it was before you officially met. 

You chatted on and on about how ‘cute’ he’d look when you finally got to paint him a nice shade of hot pink and added your glitter seat covers. Not so exciting for him considering pink wasn't particularly his favorite but god did you look adorable when you were excited. 

And there was that same look. Pure, unbridled excitement, yet your eyes shone almost darker this time. That look is almost salacious. It makes him swallow hard, legs opening a bit more and you brush your hand over his thighs, sparing one more glance as if to ask, ‘Are you sure?’ He only nods. 

“Mirage, you gonna keep telling me what everything is, or am I to assume on my own?” You question, tracing the skirt plate.

Ita hard to speak, his fans feelijg as if they were working overtime to keep him from overheating. Primus you looked so pretty between him and now he was wondering how would you look riding his-

You stop touching, whistling to get his attention. Damn, he kinda liked that.

“ ‘Rag, we good?” You questions and he swallows hard at his new nickname.

Where did all that slick talk go now? 

“Yeah, y-yeah we’re good ma.” He responds finally, optics low when your light chuckle reaches his ears. 

You slide your hands up and down his midsection plating, teasing at this point. How was he supposed to focus on helping you learn when you touch under his plates like that? When your fingers slide over his thighs and over the skirt plate over and over, the pace only makes him want to thrust into your touch.

He felt perverted sort of, getting off on you exploring him in the name of science. That was such bullshit. He looks down at you, watching you pinch your lip between your teeth. Oh….you liked this. Your thighs pressed together as your tongue darts out to lick your lips. 

You look up at him again, smile mischievous. And before he could ask any questions you slid you hand right back to his chassis and vocalizer. Oh that was a moan without a doubt. You hum in satisfaction, you’re practically playing with him, his body. It wasn’t helping that he hadn’t been touched like this in so long either p.

“Wanna tell me what happens if I keep touching you like this?” You purr, seeing Mirage avoid eye contact. 

“C’mon ma, don’t mess with me like this.” He breathes out, hollow.

You stop your ministries after hearing tires and revving come to a halt. With footsteps approaching you stand quickly, Mirage doing the same. He crosses his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall as if he’d been caught while you shove the papers into your bag and swallow hard. You’d never moved so fast in your life.

Noah enters, feeling as if he’s just interrupted something but panicking once he realizes the predicament you were about ot be in. Why were you two here? Did Mirage even think this through? Probably not.  He glances back at the other 3 bots behind him, trying to find a quick solution to hide you. But, before he could get any sort of plan out, three other robots similar to Mirage walked in, and one of them, was not at all pleased. 

“Primeee, i had no idea youd be back so soon!”

_______________________________________

Lemme know waht yall think in the comments lmao and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist as well!

Mini Taglist: @gniteruirui @veggiepizzababy panty-h03

[niamh-oshea]

"I recommend plenty of rest, eat well and watch out for fatigue."

Those had been her doctor's words the day Niamh was discharged from her 3-day stay at Mount Sinai Hospital back in May. She could still picture the way Dr. McDermott looked at her, having anticipated a stubborn Niamh to protest. It was as stern as Isaac would look whenever he would find her doing too much of anything. He'd echo the doctor's advice, and remind her that as much as neither of them wanted her collapsing out of exhaustion again, more was at stake this time around.

Niamh glanced down at her stomach, running a gentle hand over the soft cotton fabric of Isaac's jumper she was wearing. It was slightly more swollen now that a few months had passed but not nearly as much as she'd hope at 25 weeks. Lost in thought, Niamh hadn't realised that Isaac was gently squeezing her other hand to get her attention.

"Everything okay, my baby?" Isaac asked as soon as she looked up. His green eyes were both curious and concerned during the brief moment when he tore his gaze off the road.

"Hm?" Niamh cocked her head in initial confusion. "Oh!" She exclaimed shortly after, nodding her head. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just-..."

"Hungry?" He chuckled. "I figured. Hence why I was asking what you wanted for lunch but you looked very preoccupied with your thoughts."

Niamh offered an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, my baby," she affectionately replied, giving their interlaced hands a squeeze. "I was just thinking about our trip and how nice it's been," she mused. "Despite how my hormones has been kicking my ass and driving me crazy." Niamh's cheeks blushed a bright rouge. "But yeah, lunch sounds great," she remembered to reply. "Maybe tacos?"

"We're about to enter Jacksonville, so why don't you look up the best tacos in town?" Isaac suggested, focusing on the drive ahead.

In the beginning of summer, the couple had decided that with doctor's recommendations in mind, a long and easygoing roadtrip would make for a great babymoon. It was perfect since Niamh was on sabbatical from work, and Isaac prioritising spending more time together than booking modeling engagements. Since then, they'd been exploring many places Isaac's parents had taken him to when he was younger. This gave Niamh a chance to see more of the United States, and to bring their baby — albeit still in her belly — to as many places as possible before their move to Scotland in autumn.

As requested, Niamh pulled out her phone from the center console, unlocking it with her fingerprint. She was about to search for the best tacos in Jacksonville when something caught her eye. A widget on her phone showed a brief shot of her inbox and her most recent unread e-mails. There, amongst messages from work and her parents, was a name she was unfamiliar with. But it wasn't this that froze Niamh on the spot. The subject title read: Heyyy, Nutty Niamhy. Guesss whoooo????

And just like that, Niamh felt her heart stop, all thoughts of lunch out the window. Ghosts of terror's past have caught up with her, and the tiny paperclip icon indicating an attachment could only mean one thing: they're back, with a vengeance.

[underthetree845]

Underneath the tree (You're all that I need)

Armin/gn! Reader (drabble/oneshot)

Cws: gn! reader, established relationship, christmas tradition, decorating the tree, childhood memories, implied modern au, tender moments, fluff

About 1.1k words

Summary: Just a sweet drabble of Armin and Reader decorating the tree for Christmas together <3 Armin being a really sweet boyfriend.

A/n: I hope all you lovlies can have a good holiday/winter season! And here is @/estrelinha-s requested credit for the second set of Christmas dividers ^^

The faint crackling of a woodwick candle on the coffee table. Wax a deep maroon, scented cinnamon, the faint glow of the flame matching those of lights wrapped around the tree. Each little bulb twinkling as if to the rhythm of a heart, not so different from the stars outside that hang lithely above a blanket of fresh snow. Tilting your head, you slipped the ribbon of another ornament onto another branch, jumping slightly when a pair of warm arms encircled you from behind. You immediately relaxed, that familiar warmth creeping into your chest, similar to the one enveloping the room with a gentle glow. 

“I made us some tea, Angel,” the blonde boy mumbled, resting his chin on the crook of your neck with a dreamy pair of eyes. “Thank you Armin,” you cooed in response, shifting to place your hand on his cheek and plant your lips on the other, lingering for a moment before moving over to approach the two steaming mugs on the coffee table. Armin smiled softly and knelt down to pick up his cup again, blowing on it with care. “Careful to not burn yourself,” he told you with a light breath as you picked up the tea, “I just made it, so it’s kind of hot.” You nodded slightly, allowing your breath to pass over the drink for a moment before sipping the warm liquid down your throat. It formed a comforting heat in the pit of your stomach. “Mm, Love, did you make my favorite?” you hummed softly, noting the way a small grin tugged on Armin’s lips. “Maybe,” he replied, lowering the mug from his face, “Do you like it? I tried to make it the way you prefer.” “I don’t like it,” you started, noticing the beginning of a pout on your boyfriend’s lips, “I love it.” Your smile was warm, the soft lights from the tree illuminating you so perfectly; Armin couldn’t help but blush. 

“How far did you get with the ornaments while I was gone?” he asked, glancing over at the tree. “I’m almost done, I’ve just got one box left,” you replied, standing up again and pulling Armin along with you by the hand. “Which box?” he inquired as you turned to grab it from the floor. Taking it from you curiously, he opened the lid and you saw a million different emotions flash through his eyes. “Oh,” Armin breathed, “this box.” 

The first ornament was one made from a pinecone. Two clay arms jutted out unevenly from either side, a pair of googly eyes hot glued to the front. A red scarf (a few pieces of yarn) ran around the neck, and a bent paperclip had been forced through one of the seed pods on the top to function as a hook. Armin ran his thumb over the toy ornament fondly. “God I remember this,” the boy didn’t trust his voice any louder than a whisper. The corners of his lips crinkled into a smile. A tender one, the one he always made before he was about to cry. “Oh Sweetheart, come here,” you beckoned him softly. Armin barely took a step forward before being swallowed in your embrace; his chest rising and falling shakily. Your fingertips dragged up and down his spine, soon his breathing turned steady and he pulled back from the hug, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye. 

Armin held the memory of his parent’s last Christmas with him delicately as he hung it from a branch of evergreen near the top of the tree. 

A few childhood ornaments and paper snowflakes later, you came across a memory that made you giggle.

A distorted snowman-shaped ornament, its coat of paint shiny under the lights of the tree. Cracks in the white glass that had long since been mended by a bottle of super glue and two tiny pairs of hands. You still remember what the ornament sounded like when it shattered. The way you and Eren scrambled to pick up the pieces and carry them upstairs.  Thankfully there weren’t many, the snowman had broken into five main chunks. The frantic whispers and hushed panic when glue stuck to your hands. 

Your mother hadn’t noticed the newly odd shape of the ornament until January when the time came to pack everything away. Her eyes studied yours and Eren’s with suspicion, and it wasn’t until the following year when decorating the tree again that the two of you took responsibility for your mishap. By then it was a laughing matter, and a light scolding on how it’s better to tell the truth upfront to avoid further conflict. You settled the ornament deep inside a hollow in the tree branches, a place that ensured it would not fall again. The chair was held steady with a firm grip as you teetered on the edge to wiggle the star into its proper place. Twisted flakes of metal and glitter to reflect the lights; it was the housewarming gift Armin’s grandfather had crafted when he heard you and his grandson were moving in together. He even built the wire frame himself. Craftiness really did run in the family. There were five points; two slightly lopsided and one a little too short, but it was perfect in your eyes. The star smiled down at you and Armin as you admired the tree with a soft grin on each of your faces. 

You let out a sigh and fell back into the couch, half draping a red and white blanket over your body and beckoning the blonde boy closer. You tilted your head when he sprinted off to your shared bedroom and raised your eyebrows when he came back carrying a small box, neatly wrapped in your favorite color and bearing a pretty bow on top.  “You’ll get to open it soon enough, don’t worry,” he gave a small smile as he slid the gift beneath the branches and came to join you on the couch. He pulled the candy cane blanket over himself and snuggled his body close to yours, allowing his head to rest on your collarbone. You draped your arm over his shoulder and tangled your hand in his blonde locks. He listened serenely to the constant beating of your heart; a sound that had lulled him to sleep on more than one occasion. “You know, you still haven’t given me any clue as to what you want for Christmas,” you pointed out. Armin hummed as you began to run your fingers through his hair. “But I told you, I don’t really need anything,” he replied, and you sighed through your nose. “Yes I know,” he could hear the pout on your lips, “but I want to get you something. You’re special to me, you know that.” Armin shifted his head up to meet your eyes, the lights of the tree reflecting brilliantly in his blue irises. “Angel, you’re all that I need,” his voice was soft as he hugged you just a little bit tighter, “Promise.” 

A/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you sleep well tonight and can bundle up nice and cozy.

[liliumsabyss]

In The Small Moments

Part 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5,

Kaz Brekker x Gn Reader

Summary: Moulin Rouge/Satine Inspired!Reader and Kaz go undercover at a ball only for things to go terribly wrong.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48845809/chapters/123220936

Word Count: 5.16K

Tw: Angst and Fluff, Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Sex Work, No Smut, Mentions of Death, Forced Marriage, Manipulation, PTSD, reader called handsome but could be interrupted as in the old timey gender neutral way, maybe OOC Kaz Brekker, and Pekka Rollins

A/n: This is inspired by Moulin Rouge the musical both adaptations and the place. I imagine the characters to be more like 25 in this.

Early in the morning of Ketterdam fog hung over the streets, while most towns would be asleep, Ketterdam never slept. There was always laughing from a bar, hushed whispers from allies, the drunken shouts of yells, screams of a not so lucky passerbye, honey sweet calls from brothels, that was the barrel, that was the life you knew. You were awake at your desk running through the plans that a certain man had given you. The certain man who was feared by many, he had created numerous enemies yet remained in power, that man being the bastard of the Barrel, Kaz Brekker. And unfortunately for you the man your heart belonged to. You hadn’t quite been a dregger or a crow more like a person of select skills for even selector hire or in other words you sometimes applied these skills but only for Kaz Brekker. Not to say you didn’t get along with the crows, in fact you got along amazingly. They quite enjoyed your “refreshing” presence as they stated, the best term to explain your relation would be friends of some sort.

Otherwise you worked as a bartender and occasional waiter when it got crowded in the Crow Club. It wasn't anything much, however you always noticed a few extra gold coins that appeared in your pocket on payday. Many days after the Crow Club closed for the night or at that point what had been very early morning, it lay empty, Kaz’s companions off somewhere leaving the two of you in amicable silence as he slowly sipped on the strongest liquor on the shelf while you did whatever cleaning up needed to be done, many of times conversations would eventually spur. And then he found out about your particular skill set slowly once on a busy night you were waiting tables when a customer was getting a little too handsy with you after you repeatedly told him to stop Kaz was about to intervene only to see you grab the customers arm twisting it behind his body and smashing his head into the hard wooden edge of the gambling table breaking his nose. Most of the crowd at the table turned stunned, you quickly dropped the stuff off, gave a quick bow in apologies as you left, Kaz stood slightly impressed. Another time you had forgotten your key to open the club before the sun had even come up, you squatted down so you were eye level with the lock, quickly you rummaged through the pockets of your heavy woollen coat finding a random thin hooped earring you picked up on the street and a paperclip you quickly unbent the paperclip and pulled the thin hool straight as well little did you know Kaz was approaching when he spotted you crouched at the door however he saw you pull out the two random objects to his own confusion as you pushed them into the locks fiddling with the tumblers till you heard a click, you stood up and to the others shock opened the door, and then walked in. The third time he was talking to Jesper after the crow club had closed for the night and not bothering to care whether you were there. Jesper was discussing how the Landercrofts, a very wealthy family that were the head of one of the gangs, were having their annual ball in which the crows were planning to rob their vault during the party. Jesper had gotten his hands on false invitations and was stating how the dress code was black and white when you spoke up stating that the dress code this year was red, the black and white dress code was a rumour to set apart who had gotten invited and who was sneaking in. When Kaz and Jesper inquired into where you had gotten that information you explained how your connections made you quite knowledgeable of the barrel and many drunks let things slip. And the fourth time, was when you were carrying a glass from a table once the club was closed when you tripped the glass shattering at your feet Kaz who was by you when you tripped at the same time as you quickly belt down to pick up the glass out of an instinct. You both immediately reached for the largest piece when your hand brushed against his glove and he flinched only he really didn't. It was a slight twinge but less than usual so he tried it out again prying the glass out of your hands and once again he was a little nerved but better than he had with pretty much anyone else. So Kaz could only see one thing to do with your talents and would hire you on the occasion he saw fit which was becoming more and more often. Tonight was the ball that the crows had prepared for months for and the one in which you provided consistent information for, Kaz only saw it fit as you would be one of the ones to directly infiltrate the ball.

Hours passed by as you ran through the plans over and over again before you knew it, it was evening just a few hours before the ball. You frantically got ready scolding yourself for being so careless with watching the time. You grabbed the blood red outfit that laid on your bed for the past day delivered personally by Kaz. The brunette male had also delivered the red mask that was decorated in black markings intricately painted and sculpted; mixed with the outfit there was no way that Kaz paid for it just for you for this one event, someone had to owe him a debt for this. You quickly got yourself ready like you had used to, it had been a long time since you wore anything like this and you were glad for it. A sharp knock came from your door as you scrambled stuffing any possible tools you’d need into various hidden pockets. Opening the old door which let out an unpleasant creak revealed Kaz in a black and red suit to match your outfit.

“ Good your ready we need to go” Kaz let out curtly which was not what he wanted to say yet it was all that he could let out in the cold streets of Ketterdam where anyone could hear anything and take things the wrong way but for what he was going to say they surely would have took it the correct way. You gave a swift nod, looking behind him to see a black horse drawn carriage, Nina and Jesper at the driver's seat waiting impatiently for you two to climb into the back.

“ I thought Inej and Jesper were also supposed to be going in with us?” You questioned, confused at Inej’s lack of presence and Jesper at the reins in a not ball ready outfit.

“ They will be going in just not with, now if we want to be on time we must move.” Kaz responded as he turned walking away climbing into the back of the carriage you followed in tow closing the door as you entered.

Sitting on the plush cushions you ran your hand against the seat and the wooden sill that elegantly framed the window, you breathed in the stale air of the carriage the feeling, the smell had all been so familiar to all those days and nights it was honestly shocking you could forget it for this long. Kaz eyed you silently, watching your face twinge in familiarity however that look was soon gone in your eyes and an eerie tint of hatred flickered. For the rest of the ride you just peered out the window mindlessly. The lights from the mansion shimmered as you approached in your carriage many other carriages also appeared to be dropping guests off. The carriage slowly stopped to a stuttering halt pausing as the carriage rocked slightly giving away that either Jesper or Nina had gotten off their seats. The carriage door swung open, Nina holding it wide open. You put the mask on quickly looking over to Kaz who had done the same, his mask being black decorated with red instead, the inverse of yours. The man swiftly climbed out of the carriage waiting with his hand outreached ready to help you out of it as the carriage hobbled. Nina eyed the two of you in surprise as you took his hand carefully stepping down the wobbling carriage, lights poured carefully out of the manor barley illuminating the pathways that led to the large doors that were cracked and every so often would open letting light flood onto the party goers entering the masquerade. Kaz left his elbow out as you tucked your arm into it carefully so as not to look suspicious to other attendees. The brunette male held the invitations in his opposite hand, grasping them tightly. Stiffly walking up to the doors large men who had large swords sheathed in leather at their sides; ready to be pulled out against any threat to the people of the manor. The guards had displeased faces as they stood tall, intimidating, snatching invitations out of the hands of masked figures. Shortly You and Kaz stood before a guard who stood with her arms crossed and the corner of her lips pulled into a tight frown. Kaz stared at her equal in expression for a long couple of seconds before swiftly putting his arm up the two pale beige invitations decorated in gold swirls with hints of red trickled on them the women to the invitations inspecting them carefully front and back before taking out a wooden plank the split into two three quarters of the way she wedged one of the invitations between the the slit in the plank harshly squeezing it together giving it back to Kaz’s outstretched hand revealing it to have a red seal marking the paper, the guard did the same to the other begrudgingly knocking on the large painted metal and wood doors causing them to slowly open. You and the stiff brunette behind you slipped through into the manor. Laughter and music filled the air swirling around the stuffy air of the large ballroom, gowns splaying out from being turned by their suit and gown clad partners. Standing at the top of the marble stairs looking down upon the people down below, the shoulder that pressed against you that was tensed loosened slightly with a relieved breath. Turning your head to look at Kaz he slanted his head to you in return giving a sharp nod before you both took equally swift steps toward the stairs before descending into the madness of the ballroom. Kaz took a step away from the stairs and away from you his red gloved hand offering his hand with his other arm plastered behind him only then did you noticed the absence of his cane, you gave him a confused look to which he took a step to you whispering below his breath.

“ We cannot afford to look suspicious.” Kaz said lowly pulling up the leg of his suit revealing a slight gleam of metal which appeared to be a brace only letting it fall quickly before taking a step back to once again offer his hand. People whirled around behind him but you could only see him under the warm chandelier light that illuminated the marble floor and sparkling cloth.

“ Of course” You replied fondly to both the gesture and his comment, gently taking his hand taking several steps out onto the floor before turning toward each other. The song that had been playing had finished partners taking a step back bowing or curtsying to the other. The music picked up again with a medium pace waltz, guests flocking toward each other for the dance.

“ Do you want to lead or shall I?” The brunette in front of you commented fidgeting stiffly once again.

“ Eh doesn’t matter to me, dealer's choice.” You shrugged in response figuring that while Kaz offered he probably only knew one of those options if even considering his aversion toward contact. Kaz took a step closer lifting your hand which still lightly remained in his to his shoulders which he set on his ridged boney shoulder his hand reached for your side placing it gently and you grabbed his other hand raising it up holding it slightly below your shoulder as well as out. Kaz moved his foot toward yours, yours moving back in response to the waltzing causing a game of call and response in your movements. Your partner moved his head closer to the side of yours leaning in his mouth by your ear, you could feel a hot breath tickling your ear making a slight tinge of fluster.

“ We need to distract the Landercrofts, Alinda Landercroft and Jerad Landercoft are over by there by the fourth column from the window,” Kaz whispered carefully stopping midway to turn you a subtle gesture you understood, getting a flash of the pale couple in their 50’s, Alinda Landercoft wore a deep red chiffon and miniver gown that was adorned with ruffles while Jerad Landercroft wore a black suit with a red suit vest that matched the same shade of red of his wife, a large top hat stood on his head causing his short grey hair to sprawl out.

“ Their son Devlin is over there succumbing to his seduction activities.” The brunette gestured with his head to the blonde haired male around your age. He was surrounded by a couple of people of all genders who were fawning over him, him just giving a lazy suggestive smile to each of them. He wore a loose black top that cut low into his chest, a red vest tightened to his figure and black dress pants that were tight around his waist leaving little to the imagination a seemingly common theme with his outfit.

“ Once this song ends we should make discussion with Alinda Landercroft and her husband, their son seems busy enough.” Kaz said vaguely referring to his flirting where now a short haired person in a dress that had a very low bust and corset that pushed their chest up, rubbed said chest against his arm as you groaned in disgust.

And as the song ended the two of you briskly walked toward the older-ish couple who were laughing as you approached. You stopped before the couple you and Kaz bowing your heads slightly as the Landercroft’s looked at you in curiosity.

“ Hello Mr. Landercroft, Mrs. Landercroft,-” Kaz started as you internally sighed at his bluntness that was going to get you guys caught before you decided to interrupt him.

“ Mr Landercroft, Mrs Landercroft! Truly this gala is lovely, every year you never fail to impress me or my husband!” You exclaim in delight to them touching Kaz’s arm affectionately at the term “husband” as the brunette give you a wild slightly disturbed look at your behaviour to which you just gave him a slight unnoticeable jab to the ribs.

“ Oh well thank you my dear! But may I be reminded of who you are? My memory isn't as sharp as it used to be.” Mrs. Landercroft said jokingly as you all(except for Kaz) let out a slight chuckle at her statement.

“ Of course don’t worry I get it, I am (F/n) Casspian and this is my wonderful husband Kazmere Casspian. Between you and me he’s not much of a talker unless it comes down to business.” You tell them fake whispering the last part to Mrs. Landercroft in which she responded with a hearty laugh as Kaz rolled his eyes in response but slightly thankful you’d be handling the small talk especially with how much of a natural you were at this.

“ Same with mine dear!” She laughed out as her husband grumbled beside her as you joined her laughter faking it.

“ Now what did you say you did again?” She “asked” or in the world of the rich she was demanding you explain how you got into the party as people these rich rarely personally invite people more so often leaving it to trusted members of the household to invite people of popularity, opportunity, or influence.

“ The Casspians own that metal company. I believe I recently heard about it from an associate, I hear that it's becoming very influential.” Mr. Landercroft spoke up in a very “knowledgeable” tone which would have been knowledgeable except for the fact that none of it was true nor was it planted information just the older man trying to show off. Both you and and the brunette next to you turned your heads slightly making eye contact with a look of confusion at what bullshit this man was spewing to which you both just shrugged your shoulders slightly turning your attention back to the couple.

“ Yes and we were hoping to establish some sort of arrangement between our company and yours.” The brunette says to the elderly couple to which both looked shocked to see him speaking however you internally smiled smug at the distraction this provided the others who should be close to the vault in the eastern wing of the manor.

“ That would be great, son!” Mr. Landercroft said walking over clapping Kaz on the back was quite hard as Kaz flinched away from the contact, inching closer to you pressing tightly against your arm as you felt his arm trembling slightly against yours. You carefully snaked your hand towards his tightly clenched fist nudging it with your pinky in a silent ask. His hand slacked open in response as your hand slid into his carefully rubbing circles onto the back of his hand as his shaking slowly started to decrease as the older man in front of you ran his mouth off about his company.

“ Well son why don’t we all head to my office to hash out the details.” Mr. Landercroft stated hearty as he laughed, putting out his arm for his wife. You looked as Kaz grimacing when the others were not looking, pointing your head towards Devlin who was still wrapped up “entertaining” the people around him. The brunette nodded in understanding at your subtle gesture.

“ Mr Landercroft I would love to join however I must leave my husband up to this, an old acquaintance of mine appears to be here and I’ve never been good at business.” You speak in fake regret towards the couple furrowing your eyebrows together and letting out a tight lipped smile. The couple nodded in understanding of your statement. You turned to Kaz one of your hands still holding his slightly trembling one, you carefully grabbed his other hand with your free one looking at him for any resistance to which you received none you gently raised both his towards each other raising them to your mouth as you bowed your head maintaining eye contact with him lightly brushing your lips against his gloved hands the thick cotton rough under your lips as you placed a soft kiss on them. Kaz's eyes only widened slightly as the corners of his lips threatened to twitch into a warm small smile so faintly you may not have even realised nothing like his manic and greedy smile but a smile that held whatever pieces of his heart had been left. And so you let him go which caused a faint tug at your own heart as you watched him leave with the couple, your eyes trailing him as much as you could before he completely disappeared through the crowd. You turned back to the people whirling in endless mindless circles in lavish gowns and suits. This is the life they know and for most of them all they’ve known but it was also a life you knew, you knew it in the twisted behind closed doors way. And so you skimmed the crowd following it all the way to the blonde man who leaned in close to one of the people that was crowded around him a inch distance from their face with a smirk on his. You made up your mind and decided you would distract him yourself to avoid suspicion of just standing in the open unmoving, unamused. So you walk up to the male swaying your hips slightly, an innocent smile that holds a slight suggestiveness undertone to it cringing internally. The blonde's eyes turned wide for a second before his entire face turned into a smirk as he stopped leaning against the pillar standing straight up, his arms still crossed.

“ Well hello,” Devlin stated seductively(?), more like an attempt to be seductive to which you internally groaned with disgust. But regardless of how cringe worthy it felt you went along with it looking way in fake flusteredness.

“ Hello,” You replied meekly, crying internally at how awful the situation was. The blonde just continued to smirk as he took a step towards you.

“ Well what caused you to wander over here love.” The man replied teasingly and unfortunately for him horribly unattractive. And so your fake waltz began with your “subtle flirting” and his prowling responses. Many of the people who had been fawning over him had walked away with their noses high in the air, scoffing, at your presence it certainly hadn’t been the first time you experienced this but hopefully would be the last. And so your little dance began with slight touches, suggestive innocent sentences, and so on, all part of your careful scheme of distraction. And oh how you dreaded it weaving a web around the playboy who only expected you to be an innocent party-goer who had been entranced by him not a thief who took the role upon themself to protect the man and friends they had come to adore.

“ Well darling how about we head to somewhere more private.” The blonde said his voice dropping as he pressed his mouth against your ear, you having to clench your fingernails into your palm to resist the urge to push him away. But of course you had a role to play and so you’d play it. Your lips turned into a slight pout as you spoke up.

“ Well could we have one dance…first?” You trailed off hugging his arm, an obnoxious move but one that charmed him and most likely only his lips turned into a gentle smile.

“ Why of course.” He responded lightly as he reached his out for yours ready for you to grasp it. You of course did as the two of you walked out into the centre which had just concluded the previous dance, some couples fled to the side, some stayed and some joined. All on the floor stayed perfectly still as they were in their spots until the musicians started to play. It was a medium paced dance and one you knew well. You sighed in relief at the fact you knew the dance and one that you knew well but not only that the dance was one in which you switched partners for a large portion of it in the middle meaning you could get a break from Devlin, what a relief that would be. Your whirling and steps began him sweeping you through the other couples narrowly missing one another, Devlin holding you to him as tight as he possibly could. You on the other hand were mentally counting down the seconds till you would get to switch partners. Then finally what felt like forever you spun away only to be caught by what you’d hoped was anyone better than him. You were wrong. The man in front of you had his hair gelled matching his thick beard and moustache, his eyes stared coldly into you, a smirk upon his lips. You knew the man, you knew him very well and you hated him, you hated him for yourself, for the people he’s hurt, and for Kaz. But there he was in front of you smirking your dance partner, any sliver of hope you’d had. He didn't recognize you went out the window when you came face to face with him.

“ Rollins.” You spat at him, your face seething with anger.

“ (Y/n)” He responded back with that stupid greedy smirk on his face causing you to roll your eyes.

“ You are looking as great as ever, tell me have you taken a visit back yet since your little runaway stunt.” He commented, the words rolling off his tongue in a fake syrupy sweetness. You gritted your teeth together as you stared at his cold gaze with one equally of coldness, possibly even more.

“ Do not even speak of that to me.” You hissed at him hating how one of his hands rested on your waist and the other touching your hand, but most of all you hated how you had to continue this charade with the man, the man that the person you cared for had despised.

“ Oh you mean the Red Windmill or Ryker Knox because both are missing their shining diamond terribly,” He started your face twisting briefly into horror before going back to being enraged “ You know nobody would have ever thought you would have run away from the man much less to the bastard of the barrel.”

“ What are you talking about?” You state sharply trying to feign ignorance in masking your terror that you might’ve put a larger target on Kaz’s back.

“ Oh you know what I’m talking about, I know you quite fancy that bastard but what would dear old Ryker say about that…” He trailed off getting closer, his voice dropping lowly.

“ If you dare do something-” You began to threaten before he clicked his tongue interrupting you.

“ Well for starters I could order my men to go capture them right now don’t think I don’t know about your little heist,” he interrupted now finally so close he was whispering in your ear as you shuddered in fear at the fact you knew why all the guards looked vaguely familiar they had been Rollins in disguise of course they had, “ or you could listen to me and your dear bastard and his group of misfits will go free unharmed, accomplishing their heist, and you won’t be dragged back to Knox.”

“ What do you want?” You said out of your clenched teeth to him terrified at his threat. You couldn’t let them be caught if you could’ve done something to avoid it and you certainly wouldn't, no you couldn’t allow yourself to be dragged back to that awful awful man. You would allow yourself to take your very last breath before you’d ever go back to him willingly or unwilling. Pekka only smirked in response from the little you had seen of him pulling away from your ear for a slight moment before leaning back.

“ To leave with me. You are to leave with me and work for me,” He started as you raised your eyebrow at why he’d possibly want you, you could offer up a decent set of skills but none he needed unless it had to do with your prior “occupation” in which you’d rather die however if thats what would save your friends and your livelihood so be it. But then the man continued, “ And when you do so, when the bastard comes for you, you will tell him no, you will reject the boy and you will break his heart.”

“ Is there anything else?” You let out monotonous, staring ahead blankly ignoring the man's disgustingly hot breath against your ear before pulling away doing the turn the dance required only to slam back into him. You hadn’t questioned his condition, you knew Kaz wouldn’t come for you, and you couldn’t even blame him for it how could you, it wasn’t going to break his heart that the bartender who had some extra abilities would end up going with Pekka Rollins his enemy sure it would piss him off in terms of loyalty but break his heart no, no it wouldn’t. But of course you couldn’t fathom how much it actually would, how would you when the only time the man would let his heart bleed for you was in the moments you’d blink and for those split milliseconds his gaze would soften when it wandered to you, or when the early hours of the morning when even the crows of Ketterdam slept but he’d be the only person up his mind drifting to you so quietly, or in crowded rooms when he could pick out your voice out , out of the many drinking it in memorising it ever so thoroughly, or maybe it was when he’d watch you clean the club late at night after closing and he‘d get to indulge at letting your name roll off his tongue not having to fear the world hearing, so yes how would you know when he loved you in the quiet moments, moments of time no one in the world could detect in his terror of someone finding out. And yet he failed.

“ All you will need to do is sit there and look handsome, with the possibility of obtaining information.” He responded back his voice slick with victory his words slithering like a snake into your ear but it wasn’t words of temptation he whispered it was venom it was the venom of the life you could not live it was the venom that would kill your livelihood, kill your soul, and ultimately kill you. But it wasn’t a choice it was a sword and a vial of poison it was death for you either way one would be slow and painful, guilt, shame, and hatred would be one or the other where only you would suffer completely it would take a bit of time to kick in but only you would be harmed without having to worry about the others. And so your choice was made you acting as your own executioner.

“ I will do it, but only if you agree that they will go successfully with the heist and you will not do anything to them directly or indirectly.” You said firmly making your final stand refusing to let any loopholes get through for your effort.

“ Fine, I agree. Let us go.” he said, grabbing your wrist harshly, twisting it a little bit as he dragged you to the door as you attempted to keep looking back a few times desperately as a final last hope that one of the crows may be there but of course this was reality they were not. And so you were dragged out into the dark night by the monster who was to cage you once again. The stars and sky of Ketterdam had never looked as cold and dull as they did tonight but you attempted to ignored them as you got into the dark carriage not caring to look around just staring blankly into the void of the night, the lights of the manor disappearing behind you and the weight of what you had just agreed to started consuming you into the void of the night.

[morgan-va]

Chapter 3: Helper's Delight (Serial Designation N x Reader)

Masterlist

You finish the last bite of your sandwich, setting the plate aside with a soft clink. The checklist. You’d almost forgotten about it amid the bizarre whirlwind of the last twelve hours. It’s been sitting there, practically taunting you from the coffee table. With a resigned sigh, you wipe your hands and stand, already dreading what tasks corporate has deemed so vital for the “testing” process.

N perks up at your movement, his neon-white eyes gleaming. “Are we doing something fun now?” he asks, his voice brimming with excitement, as though you’re about to announce a surprise birthday party.

“Sure,” you reply dryly, picking up the folder and flipping it open. “If by fun you mean checking off a bunch of arbitrary boxes to keep Corporate happy.”

N clasps his hands together, visibly thrilled anyway. “That does sound fun!”

You glance at him, skeptical. “You’re just saying that because you have no idea what we’re about to do.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it!” he chirps.

You shake your head, muttering something about overly enthusiastic robots as you scan the first item on the list: “1. Test basic motor functions in a controlled environment.”

“Basic motor functions? Haven’t we already been through that?” you mutter, recalling N’s impromptu peanut-collecting session and his unfortunate encounter with the washing machine.

“Motor functions!” N repeats, hopping off his chair and striking a pose like he’s preparing for a gymnastics routine.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Okay, fine. Let’s head to the living room. Try not to break anything.”

“Got it, boss!” N salutes dramatically before bounding toward the living room, narrowly avoiding your coffee table.

You follow, already dreading what this day will entail. Basic motor functions, you think. How bad could it be?

You stand in the middle of the living room, checklist in hand, watching N practically vibrate with energy. He’s shifting from foot to foot, a big smile plastered across his face. You glance down at the list again, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to “test” a robot’s motor functions in your modest living space.

“Okay,” you start, scratching your head, “walk from here to… there.” You gesture toward the other side of the room, where your TV sits precariously on a secondhand stand. “And try not to knock anything over.”

N straightens up and gives you another crisp salute. “Affirmative! Walking test initiated!”

He takes a single step—graceful, confident, and precise. Then another. For a moment, you’re almost impressed. Maybe this won’t be so—

“Oops!” N yelps as his foot catches on the edge of the rug, sending him into an awkward, stumbling lurch. He flails wildly, arms windmilling to keep his balance, and somehow manages to stop just short of toppling into your TV stand.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you watch the screen wobble dangerously. “Careful!” you snap.

N freezes in place, arms still outstretched, and looks at you sheepishly. “Was that part of the test?”

“No,” you deadpan.

“Oh! Good! Then I passed!” he beams, turning around with such enthusiasm that the corner of the rug lifts under his foot, sending your coffee table’s leg into a slight wobble.

You sigh, muttering under your breath, “This is going to be a long day.”

You check the next item on the list: “2. Test dexterity with small objects.”

“Great,” you say aloud. “N, come here.”

He bounds over immediately, nearly skidding to a stop in front of you. “What’s next? Juggling? Origami? Ooooh, a puzzle?”

“Close,” you say, opening the nearby junk drawer and pulling out a handful of random odds and ends—rubber bands, paperclips, and an old deck of playing cards. You set them on the coffee table and step back. “See if you can pick these up without breaking anything.”

N crouches down, inspecting the objects like a scientist observing a groundbreaking discovery. “On it!”

His hands reach out with surprising delicacy, plucking a single rubber band from the pile. He stretches it between his fingers, nodding proudly. “Easy!”

You fold your arms, trying not to smirk. “Great. Now try the paperclip.”

N picks up the tiny metal object with a bit more fumbling but manages to hold it up triumphantly. “Still got it!”

This isn’t so bad, you think, starting to feel a bit more optimistic—

CRACK.

The sound jolts you, and you realize with horror that N has attempted to shuffle the deck of cards, bending them completely in half.

“Whoops,” he says sheepishly, holding up the mangled deck. “Was that… supposed to happen?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “No, N. No, it was not.”

“Got it! No bending the cards! I’m learning so much!”

You rub your temples, debating whether or not to just fake the results on the checklist. Corporate probably wouldn’t even notice, right?

You take one look at the mangled deck of cards in N’s hands and decide, for your own sanity, that it counts. Surely it does. He technically picked up the objects—just, well… creatively.

With a sigh, you grab the pen and check off “Test dexterity with small objects” on the list. “Yep, good enough,” you mutter.

N brightens immediately, his grin stretching impossibly wide. “Really? I passed? Awesome! What’s next?”

You glance down at the checklist, already dreading the answer. “3. Evaluate response time to basic commands.”

“Alright,” you say, stepping back. “This one should be easy. I’m going to give you some commands, and you just do them as quickly as you can. Got it?”

N salutes again, nearly clipping the lamp beside him. “Yes, boss! Ready when you are!”

You suppress a groan. “Okay, first: spin in a circle.”

N immediately whirls around like a top, a blur of black blazer and neon-white eyes. When he stops, he looks at you eagerly, swaying slightly from the momentum. “How was that?”

“Fine,” you say, marking it off. “Next: touch your toes.”

He bends over with all the flexibility of a coiled spring, his hand tapping the tips of his shoes with an audible clink.

“Alright,” you say, scribbling another check. “Jump.”

N crouches low before springing up with enough force to graze the ceiling. You wince at the faint thunk of his head making contact with the drywall, leaving a very noticeable dent.

“Oh no,” he says, holding his head and looking up at the damage. “Is your house okay?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, N. My house is fine,” you say dryly, though you mentally add ‘Except for the ceiling.’ You hastily mark off the test anyway, feeling your patience rapidly wearing thin.

N peers over your shoulder, his glowing eyes scanning the checklist. “What’s next? Ooooh, ‘Test vocal capabilities’? I’m great at that! Want me to sing? Or recite poetry? Oh! I could try impressions!”

“Please don’t,” you say quickly, the thought of hearing his impression of anything filling you with dread. “Let’s just… move on.”

N straightens up, ready for whatever comes next, while you glance at the remaining items on the list and hope it’s nothing that will result in more property damage—or stress eating the rest of your pizza later.

You scan the checklist again, bracing for whatever fresh nonsense JCJenson thought would be “standard testing protocol.” Your eyes land on the next item: “Assess problem-solving abilities.”

Well, that could mean just about anything. At this point, you figure it might be safest to give him something simple to do.

“Alright, N,” you say, closing the clipboard and setting it down. “Let’s see how good you are at problem-solving. I’m going to… uh…” You glance around the room, searching for inspiration, until your eyes land on the messy coffee table cluttered with books, remotes, and old takeout containers. “…get that table organized. Make it neat. Put everything where it belongs.”

N lights up like a Christmas tree, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m on it!”

You lean back against the wall, arms crossed, fully expecting chaos. Instead, something remarkable happens.

N approaches the table with an air of focus you didn’t know he was capable of. He picks up a remote and sets it in a neat line alongside the others. Then, he arranges the books into a tidy stack by size, even adjusting their alignment to be perfectly straight. The takeout containers are next; he gathers them carefully, one by one, carrying them to the kitchen. When he returns, he wipes the table down with a precision that could rival a cleaning professional.

In less than five minutes, the table is spotless, the chaos replaced with perfect order.

You blink, genuinely stunned. “…Huh. That was actually—”

“Efficient?” N finishes for you, beaming proudly. “I know! I’ve always liked organizing stuff.  My last boss never let me do it because they said it was boring and not worth their time, but I think it’s fun!”

For a moment, you’re speechless. Then, you nod slowly. “Yeah, uh… great job, N. You’re… surprisingly good at that.”

He practically glows under the praise, his grin widening. “Thanks! What’s next? I’m ready for anything!”

You’re not sure if that’s reassuring or terrifying. But at least, for now, you’ve learned one valuable thing: N might be a chaotic mess at most tasks, but give him an organizational challenge, and he’s a downright savant.

You skim the checklist again, muttering under your breath as you look for something manageable. Your eyes land on “Evaluate manual responsiveness.”

“Alright, N,” you say, tossing the clipboard onto the counter. “This one’s simple. I’m going to… uh…” You look around for something to test him with. Your gaze settles on a loose cabinet door in the kitchen, its hinge barely hanging on. Perfect.

“We’ll fix this cabinet. You can hold the door steady while I reattach the hinge.”

N salutes with enthusiasm. “On it, boss!”

You grab a screwdriver and some spare screws from the junk drawer, kneeling in front of the cabinet. N crouches beside you, carefully holding the door in place as instructed.

“This’ll only take a second,” you mumble, lining up the first screw. You apply pressure to drive it in, but the screwdriver slips.

The sharp tip grazes your palm, and you hiss in pain, pulling your hand back to see a small but deep scratch already welling up with blood.

“Ah, great,” you mutter, clutching your hand. “That’s just—”

“Wait! Hold on!” N interrupts, his usual cheer replaced with an uncharacteristic note of urgency. “You’re hurt!”

Before you can even react, N springs into action. He gently takes your injured hand in his own, his grip steady but impossibly soft for someone with metal fingers. His glowing eyes focus on the wound with surprising seriousness.

“Uh, it’s fine, N,” you start to say, but he doesn’t listen.

“Don’t move!” he says, sounding uncharacteristically firm. “I’ll fix it!”

To your astonishment, he grabs a clean dish towel from the counter and carefully dabs at the blood, his movements meticulous and precise. He then folds the towel into a makeshift bandage, wrapping it snugly around your hand and securing it with a small knot.

“There!” N says, his usual brightness returning as he beams at you. “Good as new! Well, not really. I mean, you’re not new, but you’re good!”

You stare at your hand, the impromptu bandage shockingly well-done. “…Huh. Not bad, N. Thanks.”

His eyes glow a little brighter at the praise, and he tilts his head. “It’s my job to help! Are you okay now? Does it hurt? Do you want me to carry you to a human repair station?!”

You can’t help but snort at that. “No, N, I’ll live. But… you handled that really well. Good job.”

N practically bounces in place, his happiness radiating off him. “Yay! I’m glad I could help! What’s next? Or do you need a break? I could bring you something to drink—oh, or your armchair! Want me to carry it in here?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “Calm down, hero. Let’s just finish this cabinet first.”

“Okay!” N chirps, eagerly holding the door steady again. As you cautiously return to the task, you can’t help but feel a tiny flicker of gratitude for your unlikely, overly enthusiastic helper.

With N’s help, the cabinet door is repaired without further incident. You tighten the last screw, testing the hinge with a cautious tug. It holds firmly.

“Well, that’s done,” you say, leaning back on your heels. “Good work, N. You’re surprisingly handy for a…” You pause, realizing you don’t have a tactful way to finish that sentence.

“For a robot?” N supplies cheerfully, tilting his head.

You shrug. “Yeah, sure. For a robot.”

N beams at the praise, his glowing eyes practically sparkling. “Thank you! Helping is what I do best!”

As you put the screwdriver back in the drawer, you glance at the checklist still sitting on the counter. One last task: “Evaluate general reliability and cooperation.”

You smirk. “Guess that’s an easy one. You haven’t burned the place down, so I’d call you reliable enough.”

“Yay! Passing grade!” N pumps a fist in the air, spinning in place like a child celebrating an A+ on their homework.

You chuckle despite yourself, shaking your head. “Alright, buddy. That’s it for the company-mandated nonsense. You’re off the hook.”

N stops spinning, looking at you curiously. “Does that mean I’m done helping?”

“Not unless you want to be,” you say with a shrug, surprising even yourself with the answer. “But for now, take a break or… whatever it is you do when you’re not working.”

N claps his hands together, his excitement barely contained. “I can do that! But if you need anything—anything at all—just let me know, okay?”

You nod, watching as he flits around the room, clearly unable to sit still even if he wanted to. Despite the earlier chaos, you can’t help but admit that having him around isn’t… terrible.

It’s weirdly nice, you think, settling into your armchair. The place feels a little less quiet with him here.

For the first time in a while, you let yourself relax, feeling a faint warmth toward your odd, overly helpful houseguest.

As you settle into your armchair, your gaze shifts to N, who stands in the middle of the room, his posture relaxed but slightly uncertain. He glances around, hands clasped behind his back, as though waiting for instructions or permission to do something. His eyes glow softly, scanning the room for any task he could take on.

You sigh, feeling a pang of something between guilt and annoyance. He’s been nothing but helpful, but now he looks… aimless. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself if he’s not actively working.

Pushing yourself out of the chair, you stride toward the bookshelf tucked into the corner of the room. Your fingers brush over a few dusty spines before pulling out an old favorite. It’s nothing too complex—an adventure novel with a solid mix of humor and drama. You glance at it, then at N, before making up your mind.

“Hey, N.”

He turns immediately, his eyes brightening. “Yes? What do you need?”

“Here.” You hold the book out toward him. “Figured you might want something to do.”

N steps closer, looking between you and the book. He reaches out, taking it with care, his metal fingers surprisingly gentle against the worn cover. “You’re… giving this to me?”

“You can borrow it,” you clarify, leaning back against the bookshelf. “It’s a good read. Figured you might enjoy it.”

N looks down at the book, running a thumb lightly over the textured surface. “Humans really do the most fascinating things. I’d love to give it a try.”

“Go ahead,” you say, gesturing to the couch. “Just, uh, don’t tear any pages. And don’t—actually, just be careful with it.”

He smiles, a small but genuine expression. “I will. Thank you.”

N moves to the couch, sitting with an air of quiet confidence. He flips the book open, his fingers deftly turning the pages as his glowing eyes scan the text. There’s no hesitation in his movements—just a steady rhythm as he dives into the story.

After a few moments of silence, he speaks, his tone thoughtful. “Books are interesting. They’re like… worlds you can hold in your hands.”

You blink, a little surprised at the insight. “Yeah. Guess that’s one way to put it.”

“It’s… nice,” he continues, his voice soft. “I think I like this. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

You nod, a faint warmth spreading in your chest. “Don’t mention it. It’s just a book.”

“It’s more than that,” he replies without looking up, completely immersed.

You watch him for a moment longer, then return to your chair, a strange sense of ease settling over the room. N isn’t just quiet—he’s composed, thoughtful in a way that makes his presence feel less like an intrusion and more like… something you don’t mind having around.

The soft rustle of pages fills the air as you relax back into your seat. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[doks-aux]

I started reading Five Nights at Freddy's: The Week Before, and as you can see, I'm being very normal about it.

I've avoided as many spoilers as possible so I can experience the lore hunting on my own for once. Never been as deep into the fandom during a book release before. The pages on the right are my notes while reading, whatever I think might be important to the worldbuilding or mysteries or just interesting minutia like how the restaurant is run. These were the notes after getting through Night 2. I've finished Night 3 by now (so please no spoilers beyond that), so there's a bit more.

The page on the left is where I'm recording my "official" playthrough. It's an "interactive novel" (because Choose Your Own Adventure is off-limits), and the way I'm reading it is by committing to one route each night and playing it to the end or until I die and have to get back to the last branching decision. And then when the night is over, I go back and read the branches I didn't take. (Except for the Bonus Item route. I've heard it's best to leave that until the very end.) The inventory is only items I pick up in the official playthrough (I probably didn't have to cross out screwdriver and paperclip after I used them, whoops), and I'm only recording Game Overs I reach organically (there are more of those now, too).

It's a lot of fun. This was a smart way to present new information and provide some different gameplay experience. I've never been able to play the video games when they actually come out, so it's nice to have a way to discover things firsthand and not have to rely on watching other people's videos. And since there are so many diverging points, there's still the question of which version of the story actually happened (if this is indeed canon to the games' timeline instead of it's own slightly-to-the-left continuity) and what information we can actually trust. Maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome talking at this point, but a straight answer wouldn't be quite as much fun.

There are some WILD implications if it's even adjacent to the games' timeline though. Like, at this point it really seems like a night guard's actual purpose is to keep the animatronics in the building than to keep anyone out. The idea that they would just up and fucking leave if they had a means to honestly never occurred to me (or at least it would have died off quickly after the earliest games), but apparently they will do exactly that. And it's largely been accepted that at least the original Fazbear four weren't malicious toward children (The Silver Eyes said as much and I think one of the games did, too), but in this story they're straight-up obliterating kids if given the chance.

Good shit. Excited to read the second half.

[kindheart525]

Pim & Mr. Boss die and Don't come back Au:

I sorta imagine Allan, Glep, and Charlie wondering who's in charge while the Boss is missing. Maybe Glep or Allan, or maybe they all Co-Operate it. Maybe they see a LiveLeak video or smthing of the execution and freaking out, Maybe a sprinkle of Charpim angst if you want.

I love these angst Aus :3

I’m so glad you’re invested! It was a little angst prompt I thought of on a whim and didn’t expect to go anywhere, but I’m happy to expand upon it if folks ask as I love angst AUs too!

Considering how much Allan and Charlie were fighting in that episode, I don’t imagine the process of delegating responsibilities goes very smoothly. While Charlie might not initially want to be the de-facto boss, he does still need this job to pay his bills and he does not like the idea of Allan being his superior, especially as more time goes by where Pim and Mr. Boss remain missing. He and Allan would definitely get into a power struggle of sorts

“Dude who put you in charge? You don’t even interact with clients like you just sit around and count paperclips all day, I at least actively try to help people smile so maybe I should be the boss.”

“I’m the one who’s keeping things organized around here, asshole!”

And they keep going back to arguing about who killed Jason despite the critter’s father not having come back to learn this fact. They’d just keep running in circles with their petty fights until Glep puts himself in charge or something. They both agree on Glep’s ability to lead even though he just continues sitting on his iPad all day lol but at least they aren’t arguing as much anymore

When I first came up with this idea I didn’t think of how they would find out Pim and Mr. Boss are dead, but LiveLeaks seems like the most likely option. Charlie’s the edgy type who probably watches LiveLeaks for fun, but maybe this time it’s part of the remaining Smiling Friends’ broader search for news from Spamtopia (a country that seems very cut off from the world) to find out what happened to their friend and boss. Yes they are all absolutely shocked and Charlie is completely devastated realizing that Pim isn’t coming back

Then they have to figure out what to do from there. Figure out a long-term future for the Smiling Friends business; can they keep it going or should they let it crumble? Part of Charlie wants to go to Spamtopia himself and avenge Pim, but he could very well end up dead himself so that might not be such a good idea. All in all they’re very lost and confused, not only not knowing where their next paychecks will come from but especially grappling with their new reality without two people they cared for very much

[trashgremlendoesart]

So my dad is somewhat of a computer wiz and I asked him about some of the tech stuff in the magnus protocol

my dads says..

"I was involved in a rollout of about 1,000 NT4 workstations over four campuses back in the day (mid to late 90s)

Our machines started at Pentium 120 with 32Meg of RAM and 1.2G hard drive in a mini tower case. Apart from the drive bays in the case front for 3 1/2 floppy disk drives and CD ROM drives they don't look all that different to a small gaming pc today.

The mice still have balls though, the keyboard have big 5 pin DIN plugs but otherwise are just as dishwasher safe as modern ones.

If connected to a network you are very likely to find its Novel Netware 4.1. The networking will look like a thin black cable strung from machine to machine with a little silver T shaped connector on the back of each one, apart from the first and the last they have 'terminators'.

You probably won't be connected to the internet yet, there is probably no TCP/IP on your LAN at all, only Novel IPX. The ZenWorks NT4 workstation management tools from Novel are sublime, it take Microsoft quite a while to copy them.

If you are in our publishing class we will be teaching you Photoshop, Illustrator and Quark Express. If you are in our business course we will be teaching you Office 97 with that bloody paperclip. We will also be teaching you Groupwise, Microsoft haven't copied that off Novel yet so there isn't any Exchange.

If you have email its probably Pegasus, maybe early Eudora. Its unlikely you can email out of the organisation you are in. Internet connected mail is still to come, mind you so is any interoperability between mail systems. You expect attachments to work?

We still taught some things on Windows 3.1 so our machines all boot from the Lan initially to fetch the boot menu. You can choose Windows 3.1, NT4, in some classrooms Win98, or you can re-image you machine if its broken. Thats all done in assembler in the boot sector on the network boot disk image, theres no PXE yet.

Internet arrives one day in the form of a product called "Instant internet", it will share its single built in 36Kb dial up modem with a whole classroom of only IPX connected NT4 workstations if you install the Winsock32.dll file that it comes with.

You are probably looking for Mosaic or early Netscape if you want a web browser, Altavista is likely your search engine.

Better things are coming though soon we have a whole 128K ISDN service to share with about 10 classrooms, we have TCP/IP on the LAN now. Your classroom is still going to have to book when it wants internet access though, as that's still woefully inadequate.

I think the Macs are System 8 or 9 they have not made the jump to the unix kernel of OS X yet, they keep my colleague busy, she seems to be reinstalling the System folders on them on a daily basis.

One day you find I have changed the default home page for all the machines to Google Beta.

My job is done, the world as we know it has been ushered in."

Dad worked In TAFE (only Australians will get that lol) for a few years as well as other tertiary education providers.

This is probably not going to be very relevant for anyone but I figured having some sort of info available could be helpful for other people's writing, fanfic or whatever.

Feel free to send asks for any clarification or further info