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whichcouldmeannothing · 1 year ago

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big big marvey fic rec list

marvey is currently my most bookmarked ship, so trust me when i say i've been around the bend for marvey content. i have dug through a lot of it the past few months, so trust that these fics have been highly rated!

fics are loosely grouped, with the summary and my thoughts under the cut :3 no spoilers ofc bc i love you

MY PERSONAL FAVOURITES

A Specter-Ross Affair by @frivoloussuits (15k+, au)

“You ordered an ‘extra-hot, extra-wet cappuccino, single-origin, properly layered, to-go and ready five minutes ago to make up for your service speed or lack thereof.’” In which Mike is a barista, Rachel is a lawyer, and Harvey is paid excessive amounts of money to plan their joyous Christmas wedding.

"Love is just a particularly socially accepted form of fraud. It's a series of increasingly complex and fragile deceptions between two or more people, and, more alarmingly, between each participant and their own deluded subconscious."

i literally cannot recommend this fic enough. this might be my favourite read of the entire year, dead serious. this sounds fluffy but trust me, the pining and the angst go well like salt on a chocolate chip cookie: extremely decadent. everything about this fic goes insane and this should be your gateway drug into marvey, im so serious about this. READ IT. (weddingplanner!harvey)

of all the gin joints by @frivoloussuits (10k+, au)

Hanging around a neighborhood bar one night, Harvey befriends a guy named Mike after realizing they can both quote The Princess Bride on demand. In the law offices of Rand, Kaldor, Zane and Pearson, senior partner Harvey Specter takes on an unusual case, representing his managing partner's daughter as she divorces a Michael James Ross. Harvey sees no connection until it's far too late.

"They’re playing a virtuosic duet with inhuman ease, as if the intoxication has broken their boundaries and blurred them into a single entity."

this. obsessed with fics that really use the law in their plots, and this is a prime example. a lot of chemistry in this one that is described in a way that makes you jealous of the bond they share and there are still lines in this fic that i think about almost everyday but honestly, such a top-tier read. PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU LIKE SUFFERING ANF REALLY REALLY GOOD CHEMISTRY PLEASE

5U175 by Closer (26k, canon-adjacent)

Harvey sometimes moonlights as a Star Trek BNF. Mike might have an attitude problem on the internet. TiberiusGhost is strangely compelling, for a recluse who never goes to meetups, and Harvey's finding this kid Photohead vaguely familiar…

i know that the terminology in this one is hella old-school but trust me. as someone who doesnt read a lot of fandom fics, this fic has changed it all for me (also bc the author replied to my comment hehehe) stick with this fic because the way fandom weaves with the character development is absolutely delicious, i remember saying this in my og comment but this fic was written with love for fandom and you should definitely read it too!!! you'd absolutely love it! (also ben stans rise up ^^)

fics to sink your teeth into (20k+)

needs must by @melthemagpie (98k+, au)

When Grammy needs an upgrade in care, Mike knows that the usual one-off gig as a paid submissive won't be enough. He takes a job he's been refusing for a while - a long-term, full-time contract. He expects his client to be a sadistic asshole. He expects not to like it. He's wrong on both counts.

this is a fandom classic, every fic rec has this on the list (cw for dom/sub and prostitution, so if you're uncomfy please dont read) but i swear there are so many romantic moments in this one that make me swoon and the smut is very good, i usually tap out in long fics really quickly but this hooked me the whole way through twice. thats my ringing endorsement, READ THIS

Lobster and Other Catastrophes by @andthetardis (21k, canon-compliant)

After months of silence, Mike starts texting Harvey again out of the blue. Funny thing to do on his honeymoon, really.

BRO PLEASE. this was so good. angsty and pining-y enough even though it's mostly a text fic. text fics to me are more like comedic, but this one had substance and heart (and funny and enjoyable btw). pulls you in and really makes you want to stick it out and get to the beautiful ending <333 (harvey being soft is probably a category on its own :3)

The Game by @frivoloussuits (27k, hunger games au)

Harvey Specter and Donna Paulsen are efficient and elegant killers. They have trained since childhood, mentored personally by Jessica Pearson and marked for years as District 1's Tributes for the Hunger Games. Mike Ross is an orphan from District 12, a drug dealer, and an underage gambler. After years of scrutinizing the Hunger Games on TV to make savvy bets, he finds himself on the wrong side of the camera, now playing the odds just to survive. Harvey and Mike cannot, should not trust each other. Still, they strike a backroom deal.

"Because he’s clever and quick-thinking and he’s learned her main lesson well– don’t love anyone you wouldn’t be willing to see dead. Ideally, don’t love anyone at all."

I READ THIS WHEN I WAS REVISITING HUNGER GAMES AND OHHHHH THIS HAS THE ANGST. absolutely riveting. ths is the third fic im reccing from them bc i love frivoloussuits. i would die for them HHFSHFHKSDGDHFG i love the angst and the life-threatening situations that the hunger games provide and harvey as a career is correct. its just correct. everything here grips my soul

Disaster Stories by agatestones (22k, canon-compliant)

"Hold on," Mike asked, "you made Donna come into work in the middle of a blizzard?" "I don't make Donna do anything. Haven't you learned by now?" Harvey gave Mike a mean little smile, but under that was relief for anyone to see. "You, I can make come into the office in a blizzard."

reads like a novella to me, and it's really good!!! very episodic and you really feel like these are things that have happened in universe. its very slice of lifey and i reread it a lot as a comfort read, its like a big hug to me

Pizza and a Movie by Closer (30k+, au)

In an alternate universe, Harvey's still a lawyer but Mike's not a pot runner -- he's a deliveryman for Rollo's Pizza and Ribs, which happens to be Harvey's favorite pizza place. Once Harvey finds out his pizza guy is a genius, Mike's life takes a few turns he would not have expected...

i swear this is the most rom-commy fic marvey has to offer. i like aus that slap me in the face more with the alternate universe, but this is such a rom-com plot. fandom classic as well and it really reads like a hugh grant 90s movie and if thats not enough to pull you in idk what will tbh

Imprimatur by Closer (22k, au)

Mike was raised to believe Imprint was a life-changing event for those few lucky enough to experience it. Harvey was raised to believe it was a form of mental illness. When it actually happened, neither of them noticed.

this goes absolutely crazy. one of those fics where you read it and you almost want to throw your phone at the wall because the characters could make it so easy if they werent so stupid (but in a good way of course) but the way it was written, you feel the depth of the soulmate bond and why its so important (which a lot of soulmate aus forget to do loll) but goes down like an expensive and delicious dinner :)

afternoon reads (10k+)

Sony SRF-39FP by @frivoloussuits (11k+, canon-adjacent)

Anita Gibbs won’t settle for Mike, not when there are name partners within her reach. She offers only one deal– two years, no other charges against anyone else in the firm, as long as Harvey Specter turns himself in. And even as Donna and Jessica and Louis and Mike beg him not to, he jumps on the grenade. “Time to get busy living or get busy dying,” he remarks, and Mike gives a small chuckle. Then Harvey smirks, straightens his suit jacket, and strides into FCI Danbury.

“I can’t believe they’re trying to lock you in a box and forget about you,” Mike sighs as he leaves.

“Well, as long as you don’t forget me, I figure I’ll survive.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but forgetting’s never been my strong suit.

cw for depersonalization and desc of solitary confinement, very very heavy but the way mike is there throughout everything makes my heart twinge. i really dont know how to describe this fic at all but its really good. it makes me cry a lot. also made me start listening to jazz which- uh

Here at the end of all things by @tattooedsiren (10k, au)

When he arrives at the Pearson Hardman building the lights are dimmed and the floor is deserted. His feet carry him to Harvey's office even though he expects it to be empty. Because Harvey probably fled the city via helicopter or teleporter or sheer force of will. But when he approaches the office he can see that Harvey is there. He has moved the couch so that it now faces the floor to ceiling windows and Mike silently sits beside Harvey, joins him in looking down at the chaos engulfing the city below. [Apocalypse AU]

I LOVE APOCALYPSE FICS UP UP UP badass!harvey makes me bark, but im a really big fan of people who find happiness in the worst circumstances and this fic does it so so so well. reminds me a lot of tlou episode like 2? the one with the strawberries. please this is what i revisit when i miss marvey and i dont have a lot of time because the world and the characters are jsut so delicious!!!

quick reads (1k+)

This Love is Silent by kim47 (8k, canon-compliant)

She should have known. She had known, that something was off, at least. She knew he was hiding something. She just never imagined it could be this. Despite Harvey's warnings, Mike tells Rachel the truth about everything. She's shocked, naturally, and more than a little angry, but she agrees to keep his secret, and even to date him. So when they break up, Harvey goes into damage-control mode.

RACHEL!! HELLO RACHEL!! im always up for smart and discerning rachel (this shows up in of all the gin joints too btw!!!) this runs realistic to me because it shows that rachelxmike arent some hopelessly wrong for each other couple, they have good and bad times. this feels more real to me than other fics bc its not like the world conspires for marvey to be apart, its just life. i know this makes it sound so sad, and it is, but trust me: this is really really really good i love this so much

an archive of harvey specter's expressions by @frivoloussuits (2k, canon-compliant)

Five old expressions that Mike rediscovers in new contexts once he and Harvey are (finally) together, and one that he sees for the first time. Alternatively titled “An Ode to Gabriel Macht’s Face.”

this was written for me. this is literally me. writing fic because gabriel macht is too pretty, like this fic is literally for me. a lot of peering at him to get this fic as masterfully written as it is, and i thank you author everyday for it. to me, this reads like it's been written with love and care and true adoration (Truly, like Mike)

Coffee-Cart Client Privilege by @frivoloussuits (7k, au)

Mike runs a coffee cart. The coffee cart.

"Why not? They're too big and dense to be a snack." So are you, Mike thinks, and yet.

IM SORRY I KEEP RECCING FRIVOLOUS SUITS THEYRE MY FAVOURITE WRITER IN THIS FANDOM HFBKABFDKHFBHKDSA this has the hand-wavy logic the show has itself but mike's internal monologue in this one is one of the best ive ever read and the way mike's integrated in the offices is just so well-done ahhhh

Objection by yeah its frivoloussuits again i feel bad tagging them like 7 times (2k, canon-adjacent)

When Mike announces he’s leaving, Harvey plans to hide the jagged pieces of his broken heart deep inside, where no one will ever find them. His heart would like to object.

BIGG fan of physical hurt/comfort!!!! also big fan of people absolutely freaking out in the hospital in fics, it makes me bounce of the wall!! very short but the angst and love really hits you quick and leaves you on the floor gasping for air. very good (also cant prove this but im very sure this is a scrubs reference.t hanks)

Excerpts From The Gospel of Harvey Specter, edited by Michael "Forever Awesome" Ross, 2011, 1st Ed, by @rcmclachlan (7k, canon compliant)

Mike can totally read people. Well, most people. Some people. Or maybe just Harvey, who's pretty much an open book.

this one's really funny! it doesent follow direct prose and instead plays a lot with the setting its in (where mike's a documenter of harvey) and its just so funny and adorable. has a lot of heart too, it isn't just crack or anything but you really feel everything mike does as he writes all this, read this!!1

One More Sleepless Night by @sal_si_puedes (9k, au)

Soul Bonds are one-sided – there’s usually mutual affection, but only one party feels the crippling need to be together as often as possible. If separated at length from their love, that party becomes crushed by longing, panic, and sheer hopelessness, and so it is illegal to forcibly keep Soulmates apart. Some days, Harvey Specter hates the Bond that skews his judgement and weakens his resolve, and he fears what would happen if anyone in his world ever discovers he is so compromised. He certainly never planned to disclose the Bond for the first time in the middle of Anita Gibbs’ office, in a last-ditch attempt to invalidate the deal sending Mike to prison.

HSDGFHSDKGHRLKGHK THIS FIC. i love fics that use more than just prose to tell their stories (see above fic) and this does my favourite thing that soulmate aus do, which is where they integrate in-universe explanations for the phenomenon. the amount of work and dedication put into this fic makes it absolutely sing and was absolutely lovely!!

also pspspsps

golden like the daffodils by @mini-mart (2k, canon-compliant)

Poetry holds meaning, for anyone who reads it. It obscures and dances around the literal and metaphorical, because it’s imbued with so much of something that it overflows out of any definition. It can make someone mad, or lovesick, or aroused, and the reactions would be absolutely warranted. Mike is poetry, to Harvey. - Harvey Specter could be a good politician, as he believes in pragmatism over poetry. He won't let his progress fall apart, won't let someone knock it down. And then someone unceremoniously cracks open a suitcase at his feet. Or: Harvey, pretty boys and poetry.

yeah yeah i wrote this yeah yeah self promo smth smth

there's a lot more that isn't here but i'll probably write a new one when i go for a deep dive through the ship tags again :3

^^ ao3 etiqutte applies! if you like the fic, kudos and comment and bookmark!! show your love! happy reading marveys! my gift to u :3

#marvey #suits tv #suits #mike ross #harvey specter #marvey fic recs #marvey fic #ao3 #fic rec list #fic recs #tbr #fanfiction #103 #GUYS PLEASE READ THIS #mikexharvey #read this

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funnelcakesandinfinitesuffering · 3 months ago

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Things I loved about the Murder Drones Finale: Part 3

Spoilers, obviously

The secret handshake during the boss fight was great, (V did not want to be a part of that.)

Uzi predicting Cyn’s teleport was genius.

The way she created a black hole like you’d detonate a grenade.

She blasted a hole through the whole planet and used the sunlight to melt Cyn’s heart. Incredible.

Cyn’s face when Uzi swallowed the solver core.

Thad’s skateboarding move and Lizzy taking a selfie after almost dying. What a duo.

Nori definitely passed down her awkward tsundere energy to Uzi.

Khan’s kinda freaky, and the teacher just climbed back down instead of dealing with it.

A sentinel driving a bus wasn’t on my bingo card, but okay.

Not my personal ship, but Envuzi shippers ate well with this. “Weirdly hot robots”, and this reunion scene. Perfect.

Uzi absorbed an Eldritch entity, and her first instinct is “oh this makes me so much edgier now” is hilarious.

Callback to the pilot episode.

“Get tunnel vision on spooky robot corpse reveal and work backwards from there.” An accurate description of the writing process.

That teacher’s gonna lose it.

“That’s my girlfriend!” WE FUCKING WON!

Also Lizzy and V might be a thing? If so, good for them.

N knows how to draw manga now.

J’s rebuilding her ship. Maybe she’s running away to the dog planet, IDK.

Doll’s funeral was so funny. “Babe-a-tron Queenthousand?” Lizzy please. But at least we got to see them in their prom outfits again.

“It should have been Rachel.” TF did Rachel do?

Also Thad’s pose, lol.

Khan and Nori did properly reunite, and N finally got to play that game of Gin Rummy.

Finally, it seems the solver’s consciousness is still alive in Uzi, but she’s got it under control at least. So good for her.

#murder drones #uzi doorman #murder drones uzi #serial designation v #serial designation n #serial designation j #murder drones doll #murder drones lizzy #murder drones thad #murder drones cyn #nori doorman #murder drones khan doorman #liam vickers animation

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vechter · 7 days ago

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ten people i'd like to get to know better

tagged by the lovely @mysteriousbeetle <3

last song: in a manner of speaking by nouvelle vague, camille

favourite color: pastel pink (think pantone 182)

last book: oof the one i finished is probably house rules: a memoir by rachel sontag bc i still haven't finished rebecca and i can't bring myself to start anything else till i do that

last movie: just saw the new gladiator yesterday! mid af but paul mescal was gorgeous in it

last TV show: rewatching mad men, otherwise the new season of outer banks that i put on to mindlessly watch only to be taken out of the escapism by how much i disliked it

sweet/savory/spicy: spicy! love savory too but if i had to pick... spicy

relationship status: single (pointlessly talking to a guy who i don't even like)

last thing i searched: "java enhanced for loop with index" lmao

current obsession: probably still comics but also been very invested in the outer banks cast drama lmao... there's new shit every day. super into orange dark chocolate recently too

looking forward to: seeing my best friend over winter break! more immediately, for max to cinch the championship this year + upcoming f1 triple header

dan's bonus topics:

favourite drink: a cold brew or a gin&tonic (but with pink gin)

song playing on a loop in your head 24/7: 10% by kaytranada (ft. kali uchis)

current favourite character: sally from mad men (i was so unfair to her the first time i watched it) + helena bertinelli because i just finished reading her solo runs recently

fun activity you would like to get into: more like get back into... but badminton. also hiking because the weather is ideal for that rn

last video game: don't rlly do that

last comic/graphic novel: probably impulse (1995) which has been open on #10 for months sigh... also reread batman: ego recently

tagging: @blueberripancake @boudicca @delphissoracle @jjohnnyutah @oldgrowthcedar @ekleiipsis & @royposting (and anyone else who wants to do it!!!)

#vech.text

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coolheadofficial · 6 months ago

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Once you've learned to correctly pronounce every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world

Dearest creature in creation, Study English pronunciation. I will teach you in my verse Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse. I will keep you, Suzy, busy, Make your head with heat grow dizzy. Tear in eye, your dress will tear. So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.

Just compare heart, beard, and heard, Dies and diet, lord and word, Sword and sward, retain and Britain. (Mind the latter, how it's written.) Now I surely will not plague you With such words as plaque and ague. But be careful how you speak: Say break and steak, but bleak and streak; Cloven, oven, how and low, Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.

Hear me say, devoid of trickery, Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles, Exiles, similes, and reviles; Scholar, vicar, and cigar, Solar, mica, war and far; One, anemone, Balmoral, Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel; Gertrude, German, wind and mind, Scene, Melpomene, mankind.

Billet does not rhyme with ballet, Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet. Blood and flood are not like food, Nor is mould like should and would. Viscous, viscount, load and broad, Toward, to forward, to reward. And your pronunciation's OK When you correctly say croquet, Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve, Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Ivy, privy, famous; clamour And enamour rhyme with hammer. River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb, Doll and roll and some and home. Stranger does not rhyme with anger, Neither does devour with clangour. Souls but foul, haunt but aunt, Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant, Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger, And then singer, ginger, linger, Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge, Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.

Query does not rhyme with very, Nor does fury sound like bury. Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth. Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath. Though the differences seem little, We say actual but victual. Refer does not rhyme with deafer. Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer. Mint, pint, senate and sedate; Dull, bull, and George ate late. Scenic, Arabic, Pacific, Science, conscience, scientific.

Liberty, library, heave and heaven, Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven. We say hallowed, but allowed, People, leopard, towed, but vowed. Mark the differences, moreover, Between mover, cover, clover; Leeches, breeches, wise, precise, Chalice, but police and lice; Camel, constable, unstable, Principle, disciple, label.

Petal, panel, and canal, Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal. Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair, Senator, spectator, mayor. Tour, but our and succour, four. Gas, alas, and Arkansas. Sea, idea, Korea, area, Psalm, Maria, but malaria. Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean. Doctrine, turpentine, marine.

Compare alien with Italian, Dandelion and battalion. Sally with ally, yea, ye, Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key. Say aver, but ever, fever, Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver. Heron, granary, canary. Crevice and device and aerie.

Face, but preface, not efface. Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass. Large, but target, gin, give, verging, Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging. Ear, but earn and wear and tear Do not rhyme with here but ere. Seven is right, but so is even, Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen, Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk, Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.

Pronunciation -- think of Psyche! Is a paling stout and spikey? Won't it make you lose your wits, Writing groats and saying grits? It's a dark abyss or tunnel: Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale, Islington and Isle of Wight, Housewife, verdict and indict.

Finally, which rhymes with enough -- Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough? Hiccough has the sound of cup. My advice is to give up!!!

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dokjadreams · 1 year ago

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flip.

harvey dent is a proud gotham u law graduate. he knows that DA office gives pennies to their interns like it's gold. harvey doesn't care.

if he can change the world even a little bit, that's all it matters.

bruce, the bruce wayne, grabs his shoulder tenderly at his graduation party.

"Congrats, Harv. You better defend me when I get in trouble."

his mouth smells like gin and tonic.

"That's not how this works, Bruce. But I'll try to tell the judge not to go too harsh on you if I can pass this bar exam first."

his grin is intoxicating. bruce wayne is an intoxicating man.

"Thanks, Harv."

watch the coin dance in the air.

the bar exam was hell but he passed. He's ready to be a DA in New Jersey court of law. Gotham is rough but Harvey Dent is stronger.

his friends are in gotham. rachel, a girl he met in 1L crimical law class is drinking margarita. marquis, the charming honeypot from the same law clinic is dancing like he doesn't care. benny, the president of the ABA student organization, is shouting his name to join him play beer pong with the others.

harvey dent is looking for bruce, again. bruce is late. he's never late.

as harvey tried to navigate the crowd, he feels a hand snaking up his arm.

"Sorry I'm late." a breathe laced with gin. It's Bruce.

"Don't worry about it."

even in the low light, Harvey sees a bruise on Bruce's neck.

"Everything all right?"

a kiss on cheek. other hand sliding on his torso.

"Perfect. Everything's perfect." the music is loud. "Congrats, Mr. Lawyer."

"Thanks, Mr. Millionaire."

watch it fall.

acid burns his body. it eats away his spirit and soul just as pain eats away his flesh. he sees a long black shadow in the corner of his eye.

he's not a hero of his own story anymore. he's lost his way home, perhaps a long time ago.

shatter.

bruce wayne has many regrets.

many of them stem from his family. his children. alfred. harper. the foxes. duke. steph. kate. barbara. jim.

harvey dent.

the list goes on.

bruce wayne tries his best to stay connected with harvey dent. his harv.

beloved harv.

could a different choice in the past have made a difference? bruce isn't sure.

it's a cold december night. he slips past the sleeping guards. he slips past the fences and barbed wires. he hangs from iron bars of arkham.

"Good Afternoon, bats."

"How are you, Harvey."

"Harv's fine, b."

a white pawn has moved c4 to c3.

"Good to hear, Harv. I missed you."

Harvey doesn't respond for awhile. Just a smile basking in the cold moonlight.

"The moon's beautiful, today. Have a great patrol for me."

when he looks up, the man is gone, just with a scribbled note left in place.

"move the knight to d5 -b"

ask yourself a question: heads or tails?

and does it matter?

it doesn't. it never does.

#bruharvey #dc comics #bruharvey angst time <3 #capridribbles

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faberrypolls · 5 months ago

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Suggested by @hintatake

#glee #rachel berry #poll

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averagejoesolomon · 1 year ago

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WELCOME TO THE KIDS. God, we are not ready for this installment, I'm so serious. Matt and Rachel are going to kill us all. To say nothing of the upcoming spycraft and general ass-kickery. Thank you for reading this with me. If you're new here, you can read Full Circle in full on Ao3. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

Before Matt boards a plane to New York, he pastes an OTS-issued mustache to his upper lip and switches the passports in his backpack.

There are no direct flights from Washington DC to Moscow. The reasons for this span far and wide, but the most significant factor also happens to be the simplest—sheer distance. At nearly five-thousand miles as the crow flies, there ain’t a whole lot of civilian aircraft that can make the flight in one go, to say nothing of the fact that neither country is especially amicable to the idea of direct contact. As part of a global effort to reduce the friction between two nuclear superpowers, Morocco offers up its services as the geographical and political buffer between the two destinations, its liminal and atmospheric nightlife acting as the ideal backdrop for the world’s transfers, layovers, and delays.

The trip usually takes eighteen hours if flown straight through, but the gin joints can eat into a full day if given the chance. For his part, Matt’s latest trip takes thirty-seven hours.

But he can’t blame the bars this time around because he doesn’t stop in Morocco, and hasn’t since he picked up a Soviet tail in the CMN terminal last spring. For every US intelligence agent flying through Casablanca, there are five Russian officers waiting on the ground with direct orders to identify and apprehend incoming westerners. The behavior has become too predictable. The Soviets have become too prominent. As Joe puts it: an agent in Morocco is an agent in the grave.

So Matt begins with a trip to New York, then London, then Istanbul, where he switches passports again to fly to Dubai, so he can finally make his way up to Moscow. He survives off of complimentary peanuts and ginger ale, stopping only at the occasional newsstand for the latest local headlines and a fresh packet of M&Ms—one of the few candies sold consistently across international borders. Vigilant airport hours are balanced with the relative safety of the sky, and his only sleep happens alongside the low, rattling drone of jet engines in his ear.

By the time he lands in the Soviet Union, he’s already added a goatee and traded his honey blond hair for a bleached wig that more closely resembles his newly assumed Slavic heritage. After deboarding, he identifies the nearest bathroom to the gate and enters the last stall on the left. As instructed by his CO, he runs his fingers along the wall until he finds a ridge in the tile. He carefully peels back a damn near invisible panel, revealing the compartment Langley promised him. There’s a change of clothes. A pair of contacts. A note written on evapopaper: E ibvltn aely ldrm oor we uti I. The key to this particular skip code was already given to him in New York, which helps him decipher the message that a driver will meet him in Lot 2. Thank God he doesn’t need to hail a taxi.

He drops the note into the toilet bowl and watches it melt from the edges inward. After changing into the provided outfit, he silently shreds his old travel clothes to be discarded in various trash cans on his way to the parking lot. Finally, he pops both contacts in, replaces the panel, and flushes the toilet in case anyone is listening. When he approaches the sink to wash his hands, unfamiliar blue eyes blink back at him from where his own brown eyes ought to be.

Between the sporadic sleep and the changing time zones, he has no idea what the local time is, but the dark sky narrows his possibilities to either very late or very early. The weight of travel saturates every muscle, every joint, every step, but he can’t afford to turn off his senses and slip lazily into the night—not in Moscow. Never in Moscow. After five consecutive flights in less than two days, the hard part has only just begun.

The Soviet Union has always been dangerous to western agents, but the capital has only gotten more hostile in Matt’s time as an operative. Last summer alone, ten US informants were executed in the city, including two of Matt’s most reliable contacts. In the following winter, a handful of Russian specialists left Langley for a field mission and didn’t come home. The last time Matt was here, he met with a Circle informant named Omar who offered to talk in exchange for medication not available in Russia, but easily acquired at a US pharmacy with a forged prescription. Omar is dead now, too, and Matt suspects an assassin finished him off before the illness did. These days, Moscow is a loaded spring trap ready to snap at the slightest tick in the wrong direction, deadly enough that even a skilled Pavement Artist stands to don a disguise or two.

Despite the ocean between them, Joe’s voice rings through Matt’s head. It’s always strongest in Moscow, imploring him to pay attention. Notice things. This is the sort of place where it’s best to lean into strengths, so Matt jumps in with the rest of the red-eyed passengers as the mob progresses through customs, down to baggage claim, and toward ground transportation. From his pace to his posture, he strives to put on a seamless Soviet appearance.

When he reaches the lot, he identifies a license plate number he was instructed to memorize, then enters the backseat of the boxy beige Lada. The driver doesn’t look back when he says, “Nice weather we’re having, yes?” in the sort of thick, Russian dialect that only natives can pull off.

Matt replies in his own practiced Russian. “I hear rain is imminent,” he says. “But I seem to have forgotten my umbrella at home.”

Satisfied with the exchange, the driver shifts gears and squeezes out of his parking spot, working his way toward the main city. By now, Matt knows the streets of Moscow as well as he knows the streets of Hay Springs, so he pays close attention to the route, just in case the driver has been compromised in the past forty-eight hours. The two of them do not speak, wary of bugs. They do not exchange glances, wary of pinprick cameras sewn into buttons. Instead, they embrace their existence as total strangers, not eager to leave any impression of an alliance.

This suits Matt just fine. That is, until seventeen minutes later, when the driver takes a right-hand turn away from the city center, then another.

In this business, in this part of the world, two right turns are a surefire signal to any veteran agent that something significant is about to happen, though it’s impossible to predict whether he’s looking at a positive or negative outcome until the moment actually passes. That’s probably why Joe’s voice is in Matt’s head again, anticipating the worst and providing Matt with escape plans.

The sidewalks look reasonably empty, easy enough to run.

The rear doors appear to be unlocked from the inside.

If the doors are jammed shut from the outside, Matt’s shoe has an iron wedge embedded in the rubber heel, which will help him kick through the window.

The driver isn’t armed, but if he makes a move for the glove box, Matt’s best option is to choke him from behind.

The little Lada pulls up to an alleyway tucked between high-rise apartments and a seemingly abandoned liquor store. There are no streetlights. No witnesses. The driver shifts the car into park and says, “You exit now.”

Risk assessment is a key component of any covert decision and, in that moment, Matt senses some serious risk waiting for him at the other end of that alleyway. At the same time, he also senses an even greater risk if he overstays his welcome with this native Russian driver who, by the way, has about a hundred extra pounds on him. Matt doesn’t need to be told twice. Hands up, he slowly exits the vehicle and prepares himself for the next piece of this rapidly evolving Moscow puzzle.

The instant Matt kicks the door shut and slings his bag back onto his shoulder, the Lada’s engine grinds into full gear with a squeal of the tires. He has officially run out of CIA instructions, but the good news is that he doesn’t have any time to doubt himself before his next priority makes itself apparent. The bad news is that his next priority should probably be to get away from the knife that was just pressed against his side.

The pointed end of the blade pokes along the muscle just above his hip. It hasn’t cut through his shirt yet, but one wrong move could change that and much more. “This is a nice surprise,” Matt says, sticking with Russian in a rushed attempt to keep his cover intact. “Where are we going?”

The answering Russian is good—excellent, even—but it has the subtle lilt of someone who learned it as a secondary language. “Is that all it takes to best you? One knife to the ribs and you roll over completely?” It’s a woman’s voice, and one of the few commonalities between the CIA and the KGB is the rarity of female agents among their ranks. Plus, the hold on the knife is petite and graceful, belonging to someone who was taught to fence before she was taught to fight. Matt decides he’s not up against a Soviet agent, but this ain��t a friend either. Not yet.

Joe’s voice is telling him to fight, but Matt’s curious enough to say, “In my experience, the person with the knife usually gets to make all the rules.” He continues with Russian, hoping that the woman will respond in kind and give him a chance to identify the accent layered below. “And, by the way, if you’re aiming for my ribs, you’re about two inches too low.”

She doesn’t disappoint. British accent, maybe. Or Australian. It really is impressively subtle. “Bold thing to say to someone with a knife to your side,” she says. “Remarks like that could get you killed.”

Matt huffs. “Maybe one day, but not today.”

She twists the knife a little deeper, pricking a hole in his shirt. “And what makes you so certain?”

“Because if you were going to kill me, ma’am,” he says, “I’d already be dead.”

This is a bit of a risky gamble. Few things make one human want to kill another more than spite, and Matt’s gone ahead and welcomed it with open arms. His mama always did say he had a real way about him, when it came to tempting fate. Thankfully, this particular bet seems to pay off as the knife finally falls away from his torso. The woman grabs him by the back of his collar instead, pulling him deeper into the alleyway. “You’ve taken all the fun out of it,” she says with a sigh. “Come with me. And don’t ever call me ma’am—that much will get you killed.”

This is a joke. He thinks. And jokes are awfully promising in a place like Moscow.

At the end of the alleyway, another car sits idling. No headlights. No plate lights. Matt can’t know for sure, but he reckons the brake lights are probably cut, too. In the presence of a car designed for a perfect covert getaway, Matt recognizes this moment for what it is—not an attack, but an escape. A high-tech game of keepaway.

In this particular instance, Matt is not an agent. Rather, he’s an asset in need of transportation, and he’s just met his new driver. When this stranger opens the rear door and shoves him inside, Matt knows that she’s putting on a show for potential onlookers. When she says, “Stay down,” he understands that his silhouette can’t be seen driving through the city. It is not enough to blend in—not when he could have a tail leftover from travel, not when the customs office could have bugged his backpack, not when a patrolman might recognize him from another visit into the city and assign a car to follow close behind. Agents have been known to disappear between an airport and a safe house, which means Matt is only safe if he becomes completely invisible. It’s the sort of thing that can only be accomplished with careful timing, meticulous planning, and an appreciation for redundancy, after redundancy, after redundancy.

In other words, this plan has Rachel Cameron written all over it.

He’s managed to avoid the thought for the past thirty-seven hours—and, frankly, for the entire two years before that—but the idea of being in the same city as Rachel after such a long time away has him wishing for a knife to his side instead. Knife wounds, at least, are an isolated pain with one clear source. They can be cleaned and stitched up. Bandaged and healed. This business with Rachel pings around all of his insides, taking turns with his stomach, his heart, his throat, his lungs. Rancid regret rots his brain and radiates down to every last muscle. Laying alone in the back of a stranger’s car, staring up at the velvet interior, Matt gets caught in a loop of all the things he wishes he’d said sooner.

He didn’t expect it to all stop.

He never should have made her cry.

He didn’t think it would last this long.

He lies, sometimes. He’s sorry he has to lie.

He’s doing good, good, good as often as he can.

Matt has always meant to say these things to her, but the longer they went without, the harder it got to call. Now it feels like too much time has passed to say any of it—like apologizing will only serve as a bitter reminder of just how deeply they tore into one another. Like acknowledging it will only reopen scars that have only just started to heal over.

The longer they drive, the more Rachel’s proximity presses down on his chest, squeezing him into the seat. He knows he ought to count the seconds. Track the turns. Try to get some sense of where they’re headed. But Rachel Cameron fills every last available space in his thoughts and, God almighty, she would lecture him straight to high heaven if she knew how distracted he was.

Once he’s fully worked himself up into a tightly wound ball of unspoken mistakes, the tires hit a gravel drive. The car takes an awfully long route over bumpy back roads and heavily forested hills, which is especially impressive given the lack of headlights, before it finally slows to a stop. His driver turns to the backseat, moonlight catching on the curve of her cheek, an icy white steak against smooth dark skin. “Congratulations on surviving your trip,” she says, and Matt thinks it might be an American southern drawl hiding beneath her Russian, with the way her vowels drawl. “You may leave. Your bag, however, must stay until morning.”

Matt sits upright, his silhouette visible to the night once more. “Sure thing,” he answers. “It’s like I said—the lady with the knife gets to make the rules.”

This earns him a subtle tick of the stranger’s lips. Matt latches onto the near smile and vows to turn into a broad, toothy grin sooner rather than later. But in the meantime, he’ll settle for the semi-charmed side-eye she casts his way, just before she opens the driver door. “Bloody Hell,” she says as she exits, finally switching to English. “She was right about you.”

British. Damn. Matt should have trusted his gut.

Wait.

He bolts out of the backseat and jogs to catch up. “Right about me?” he echoes, falling back into his own American English. “Who was right about me—right about what?”

The Brit’s stride is incredibly long, and would probably be better suited to a runway than barely-used backwoods paths overgrown with weeds. Matt has to quicken his own pace just to keep up with her. “Never you mind,” she says. “This way.”

“Doesn’t seem right,” he tries, “that you get inside info on me when I don’t even know your name—”

“This way,” she says again. “Surely I don’t have to remind you, of all people, that Moscow’s trees have ears.”

Matt has spent a significant portion of his career listening to conversations picked up by precisely placed bugs exactly like the ones she speaks of now. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her the surrounding trees probably aren’t bugged—at least not in the way she expects. The Soviets wouldn’t go to the trouble of tagging each individual tree, only to have an opposing agent uncover them within an hour of arrival. The birds, foxes, and deer, however, are worth a second glance.

Either way, she’s right. The forest is no place for introductions. Instead, he follows as she hikes toward a tiny cabin tucked between one hillside and another. It appears perfectly plain on the outside, built from cedar logs and a tin roof. Shrubs and pines surround the perimeter, and Matt knows from experience that these are probably prickly and unpleasant, making it difficult for any unwelcome guests to get too close. The curtains are drawn. The chimney is without smoke. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say no one was home.

They cover their tracks as they go, wordless right up until they reach the door. Mind split in the dozens of different directions demanded by good countersurveillance, Matt forgets to be nervous until the last minute, when the Brit knocks in a unique, four-rap pattern, then opens the door. The cabin’s light flashes into the nighttime forest, so they waste no time stepping inside.

A new voice greets them. Then again, this voice ain’t really new. Not to him. He’d know this particular voice anywhere, even if he spent years, decades, centuries away. “Grace?”

Rachel Cameron waits for them just inside, seated at a small dining table at the center of a small kitchen. Rachel Cameron has lists, and blueprints, and notes scattered all across the tabletop, the chairs, the linoleum, splayed across kitchen countertops, and taped to cabinets, and stuck to the refrigerator with little black magnets. Rachel Cameron scans one stack of papers with the pencil in her right hand, then another with a highlighter in her left. Rachel Cameron looks up. Rachel Cameron meets his gaze. Rachel Cameron sighs.

Genius. He’s always known the word applied to her, though it strikes him anew. Rachel’s brilliance is better experienced in small doses, when he can slowly acclimate himself to the raw appreciation of it. The last two years have robbed him of his resilience and it’s like he’s seeing her for the very first time all over again.

Except it only takes a single moment for all of their history to come rushing back, filling the room from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, until there’s no more space for words, or gestures, or glances. Rachel looks away first, eyes falling back to a set of blueprints, and Matt follows her lead.

Thankfully, their companion cuts through the silence without a trace of discomfort. “Found your boy,” she says, kicking off her shoes. “He’s cheeky, this one.”

Matt starts to protest with “Oh, I ain’t—” at the same time Rachel says, “He’s not my—”

They both stop, and wait, and wait some more. Neither of them meet the other’s eyes. When enough excruciating seconds have passed, Rachel starts again, and Matt lets her. “Thank you for picking him up,” she says. “I know you were eager to stay in tonight, but—”

“But we aren’t taking any chances with this op,” the Brit finishes. “Understood. Really, Rachel. Though I will say, I was a bit surprised at how easily this one came along with a complete stranger.”

It is as if all of Rachel’s years of etiquette training hit her at once. She brings her fingers to her forehead, suddenly remembering. “Ah, yes, sorry. You haven’t been introduced yet.”

“Not unless you count my putting a knife into his side,” she says.

Matt clears his throat, finally finding his words. “In this business, that’s sometimes the only introduction we get.”

The Brit smiles again. It’s still not the full grin he’s looking for, but it’s closer. “Quite right.”

Rachel studies the pair of them, analyzing something Matt can’t see. She squints back and forth between them, her face twisting into something sour, as though she’s not sure she likes what she’s looking at. “Right,” she says, slowly. Then, clears her throat. “Right, well, anyway. Grace, this is Matthew Morgan. Matthew, this is Grace Harris—”

“Baxter,” Grace cuts in.

“Right,” says Rachel, squeezing her eyes shut, remembering again. Matt’s not sure he’s ever seen Rachel forget anything, and he takes note of the fact that she’s gone and forgotten twice in a sixty-second span. A data point he’ll save for later. “Grace Baxter.”

Grace Baxter holds out her hand to shake, meeting Matt with a far firmer grip than he’s expecting. He feels a couple of knuckles pop in his own hand, and resists the urge to call out. “It’s so great to finally meet you,” she says.

That’s an awfully interesting choice of words. “Finally?” says Matt.

Grace does not elaborate. “My husband is around as well, but he’s being a good little agent and sleeping off his jet lag while it’s still dark.”

Matt, who hasn’t had more than two hours of consecutive sleep since DC, can’t quite hide the longing in his reply. “Smart man.”

“Outrageously so. It’s infuriating, really,” Grace agrees. “You’ll see him at breakfast tomorrow, but in the meantime we should all probably join him. The last thing we need is four exhausted agents trying to run an op in Moscow.”

Matt has about a million more questions for Grace Baxter, but none of them form quite right in his head. A fog fills his brain, clouding all of his better thoughts, and he reckons Grace is probably right. He’s useless to Rachel like this, and she’ll be the first to call him on it. “Sounds like a plan to me,” he says. “Do you think we ought to run it by the boss, first?”

Grace risks a glance toward Rachel, who has already returned to one of her blueprints. With Rachel’s attention occupied, Matt steals this chance to take her in. Her clothes are worn with travel and her shoulders slump with a need for sleep. Some of her curls have escaped the denim scrunchie holding back the bulk of her hair, falling into her face, and Matt remembers all at once that Rachel never did know how to stop, once she got started.

“Good luck,” Grace scoffs. “I’ve been trying to get her to sleep for hours. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She’s been planning since the moment she walked in.”

Matt ain’t got any sense that Rachel doesn’t already have ten times over, and he doesn’t dare pretend otherwise. Thankfully, Rachel recognizes this and provides an answer of her own. “I’ve been planning for the past three months,” she corrects, just as she circles something on the page. “I just wanted to get some last-minute changes down before bed.”

Grace turns back to Matt. “You see? Hopeless,” she says. “You two may do what you please, but I intend to get some sleep. Pulling off a fake kidnapping at the edge of Moscow is exhausting work, you know.”

With this, she sends a playful jab into Matt’s side. Only problem is, Grace’s idea of a playful jab is most people’s idea of a full-on elbow to the ribs, and Matt has to catch his breath afterward. It takes all of his might not to let out an unmanly yelp in front of these two women. “Right,” he gasps. “See you in the morning.”

“Thanks again, Grace,” Rachel calls, not looking up from her writing.

With a wave of her fingers, Grace disappears behind one of the two available doors and shuts it with a twist of the lock. Matt realizes too late that her absence leaves just him and Rachel. Alone. Together.

This silence just won’t do.

“Flights good?” he asks.

“Yes,” she answers, scribbling away.

“Abby okay?”

Scribble, scribble. “Yes.”

“You okay?”

Scribble, scribble. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.” This is worse than the silence, actually. Out of questions and energy stores depleted, Matt decides that his only remaining move is one that has been employed by desperate agents for centuries—a retreat. “Listen, I think I might join the others and try to get some sleep. Unless you need me?”

Scribble, scribble. “Not yet.”

“Great,” he says. “Just point me to my bed and I’ll be on my way.”

Rachel’s pencil freezes mid-sentence. This is Matt’s first clue that something is horribly wrong, followed by the fact that her eyes finally meet his and this time, she doesn’t look away. “No.”

“Um.” Retreat, retreat, retreat. “Okay? I guess I can find it—”

But Rachel is already up, dashing through the sliver of a living room that hosts a single chair, a coffee table, and a throw blanket. When she reaches the second available door in the cabin, blood drains from her already pale face, turning it to an alarming, ashen white. Her voice is hollow and distant when she squeaks out a soft, “No, no, no.”

When it comes to Rachel, Matt is woefully out of practice, but it doesn’t take an expert to see the panic, and Rachel’s panic ain’t built the same way everyone else’s is. The sight of Rachel out of sorts is enough to get Matt’s heart really, truly racing. “Rachel, what are you—?”

She flicks on the light, and when Matt steps up behind her, he’s met with an instant understanding of the situation. “There’s only one other bed,” she says, spinning to face him as she explains. “Abby and I usually share. I booked the safe house when it was going to be the two of us, but between the hospital, and the flights, and coordinating our assets…” Sometimes Matt wonders how loud the inside of her head must be. He suspects she doesn’t realize when her words dissolve between inner and outer monologue. It takes some deciphering to understand her complete thoughts from start to finish. “I forgot. I’m so sorry, I forgot to account for the beds when I switched agents, I’ll take the couch.”

By couch, he supposes she means the ancient loveseat tucked away at the end of the bed. The leather cushions are scratched and cracked, and the silver shine of a spring peeks out from beneath the quilt laid across its back. A grease stain rests along the arm where agents have laid their heads for years and years before. Throughout his travels, Matt has seen more than his fair share of uncomfortable furniture and this one has serious potential to rank among the worst, but this is Rachel’s third strike at forgetfulness when she’s usually a home run hitter. She needs to sleep, and sleep well, and it simply won’t do, for her to sleep on that old thing. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No it’s my mistake, I should—”

“Rachel,” he says, and his hands fall to her shoulders out of habit. Out of familiarity. “I’m sorry, but there just ain’t no way I’m letting you take the couch.” She’s looking up at him with big, brown eyes. They’re glassy, and tired, and he spares Rachel her dignity by ignoring the twinge of tears sneaking into either corner. “She may be all the way in Nebraska now, but there’s no quicker way to get Joy Morgan to Moscow than if I let you sleep on that couch.”

She shakes her head. “Matthew—”

“I’m telling you,” he tries again. “My mama can sense that sorta thing, and believe me when I say she’ll shake down the entire agency to find this cabin and knock me six ways from Sunday, right upside my head.”

“You’re worried that your mother will intimidate CIA agents into disclosing the location of one of their most heavily protected safe houses?”

“You’ve never seen my mama when there’s a matter of chivalry at stake.”

“Matthew, I—” she interrupts herself, this time, freezing when she meets his gaze. “Your eyes,” she says, studying the intimate features of his face. “Your eyes are blue.”

This is outright nonsense, and even more proof that she needs to sleep. That is, until he remembers the light blue contacts. He blinks, as though he might be able to get rid of the color, because everything artificial seems so ridiculous now that he’s in the presence of someone who knows him to his core. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, sorry.”

With that, she studies him more deeply, and he notices the faint lines that have started to form where her eyebrows always furrow, the freckles she’s accumulated along her cheekbones with years of missions spent in the sun, the ease with which her lips fall into a tight, even line. Her eyes bounce between each of his, debating her next words before she finally says, “Why are you apologizing?”

Matt’s breath catches, and he knows this is it. The opening he’s been waiting for. But it’s late, and they’re tired, and they both smell like planes, and airports, and taxis. So despite the desperate words trying to crawl from his heart to his mouth, he settles on something softer. “I think we both know I’ve got plenty to apologize for,” he says, finally letting his hands fall. “But I think we both know this ain’t the time to do it.”

Genius. She’s always been smarter than him in more ways than he can count, and this moment is no exception. She’s smart enough to know that they both need clearer heads. That they both need a moment of quiet. That morning will come and they’ll both be better for it, and that tonight is no place for their usual fights. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about the bed,” she says, barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know you didn’t—”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“I’m so tired.”

She has this way of taking small words and making them feel big. Of making them span years, when they shouldn’t last more than a second or two. Rachel isn’t tired, so much as she’s exhausted, and burned out, and lonely, and weighed down—and she manages to convey all of this by simply shaking her head, and folding her face into her hands, and standing in front of him with all of the humility in the world.

He has this way of feeling her when she most needs it, in a way that no one else seems to be able to. Of hearing those great big words tied up in all of her small ones, and trying his best to say the right thing in response. “Let’s get some sleep, then,” he says, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We’ll get some sleep, and when you wake up, you can tell me exactly what all of those crazy kitchen plans mean.”

Despite herself, she laughs. It's a pitiful, mangled thing, but it still counts. “They’re not as crazy as they look.”

And Matt can’t hold back a smile. “Well thank God for that, because they look…” he tries to find a word, but this is much like everything else Rachel does, in that it defies explanation. “I mean, seriously, Rachel, you’ve gone full Doc Brown in there.”

She shoves him, gently, and Matt makes a show of clasping at his chest in faux hurt. “They’ll make more sense in the morning,” she tells him.

“Everything will make more sense in the morning,” he assures her.

And she believes him. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” he says.

That’s enough for them, for tonight, for now. It’s all they need. And maybe tomorrow will be bitter and hard at the center of Moscow, working an op that Rachel has given her whole heart to, but right now is easy and safe. Right now, they’re old friends who need each other more than they knew.

Rachel finds his eyes again, and sighs something that sounds like relief and regret mixed together. “At least let me ease some of my guilt by hunting down a truly outrageous number of blankets on your behalf.”

Matt looks back to the loveseat and knows in his gut that there will not be enough room for more than one blanket. There is barely enough room for Matt, as is. Even so, he smiles at her. “Rachel Cameron,” he says. “I’ll always take any blanket you hand me.”

#Full Circle

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sisiofthemultifandom · 1 year ago

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My Massive SHIP LIST

The following is a LONG list of all the ships I enjoy from a moderate to an extreme amount and have probably looked at fanfiction for at some point. Keep in mind this doesn't include every movie and/or show I've ever watched and I may make edits to this at a later time. Godspeed you unfortunate witness.

Agents of SHIELD

Coulson X May

Daisy X Lincoln

Fitz X Simmons

Bobbi X Hunter

Mack X YoYo

Arcane

Caitlyn X Vi

Arrowverse

Oliver X Laurel

Roy X Thea

Diggle X Lyla

Barry X Patty

Wally X Jesse

Caitlin X Ronnie

Kara X Mon-El

Alex X Maggie

Brainy X Nia

Attack on Titan

Eren X Mikasa

Falco X Gabi

Bertdholt X Annie

Ymir X Krista

Levi X Hange

Avatar the Last Airbender/Legend of Korra

Katara X Zuko

Aang X Toph

Sokka X Suki

Aang X Katara

Bolin X Korra

Avengers (MCU)

Steve X Natasha

Tony X Pepper

Thor X Jane

Wanda X Vision

Peter Q X Gamora

Scott X Hope

T’Challa X Nakia

Matt X Karen

Luke X Jessica

Peter P X MJ

Bucky X Sarah

Ben 10

Ben X Julie

Kevin X Gwen

Berserk

Guts X Casca

Bleach

Ichigo X Rukia

Uryu X Orihime

Tatsuki X Orihime

Gin X Rangiku

Toshiro X Momo

Boku no Hero Academia

Izuku X Occhako

Todoroki X Momo

Bakugou X Kirishima

Eraserhead X Present Mic

Castlevania

Trevor X Sypha

Alucard X Greta

Class of the Titans

Jay X Theresa

Atlanta X Archie

Critical Role

Percival X Vex’ahlia

Vax’ildan X Keyleth

Scanlan X Pike

Sylas X Delilah

Fjord X Jester

Beau X Yasha

Caleb X Essek

Imogen X Laudna

DC Comics

Clark X Lois

Bruce X Selina

Diana X Steve

Barry X Iris

Wally X Linda

Hal X Carol

Carter X Shiera

Oliver X Laurel

Arthur X Mera

Constantine X Zatanna

Dick X Barbara

Tim X Stephanie

Garfield X Rachel

Conner X Cassie

Kate X Maggie

Hank X Dawn

Garth Ranzz X Imra Arden

Nura Nal X Thom Kallor

Jo Nah X Tinya Wazzo

Val Armorr X Princess Projectra

Kara Zor-El X Querl Dox

Lar Gand X Tasmia Mallor

Demon Slayer

Tanjiro X Kanao

Zenitsu X Nezuko

Giyu X Shinobu

Digimon

Taichi X Sora

Koushiro X Mimi

Takeru X Hikari

Takato X Jeri

Rika X Ryo

Izumi X Junpei

Disney Animation

Mulan X Shang

Eric X Ariel

Simba X Nala

Tiana X Naveen

Tarzan X Jane

Rapunzel X Eugene

Hercules X Meg

Aladdin X Jasmine

Doctor Who

11 X Clara

Dota - Dragon's Blood

Davion X Mirana

Evangelion

Shinji X Kaworu

Fairy Tail

Natsu X Lucy

Erza X Jellal

Gray X Juvia

Wendy X Romeo

Final Fantasy

Zack X Aerith

Cloud X Tifa

Squall X Rinoa

Tidus X Luna

Lightning X Snow

Noel X Serah

Noctis X Luna

Fire Emblem

Byleth X Dimitri

Fullmetal Alchemist

Ed X Winry

Roy X Riza

Ling X Lan Fan

GI Joe

Snake Eyes X Scarlett

Garo

Kouga X Kaoru

Ryuga X Rian

Raiga X Mayuri

Gatchaman

Ken X Jun

Gundam

Domon X Rain

Shinn X Stella

He-Man (OG Continuity)

Adam X Teela

Adora X Sea-Hawk

Duncan X Sorceress

InuYasha

InuYasha X Kagome

Sango X Miroku

Sesshomaru X Kagura

Kohaku X Rin

Invincible

Mark X Eve

Kamen Rider

Hongo X Ruriko

Godai X Ichijo

Shoichi X Hikawa

Shinji X Miho

Takumi X Mari

Kenzaki X Hajime

Yuuto X Airi

Wataru X Mio

Tsukasa X Natsumi

Shotaro X Tokime

Ryo X Akiko

Eiji X Hina

Gentaro X Nadeshiko

Ryusei X Tomoko

Haruto X Koyomi

Kouta X Mai

Kaitou X Yoko

Shinnosuke X Kiriko

Gou X Reiko

Takeru X Akari

Alain X Kanon

Emu X Poppy

Sento X Banjo

Kazumin X Misora

Gentoku X Sawa

Sougo X Tsukuyomi

Aruto X Izu

Fuwa X Yua

Touma X Kento

Rintaro X Mei

Keiwa X Neon

Kingdom Hearts

Kairi X Sora X Riku

Aqua X Terra

Lea X Isa

Roxas X Xion

Riku X Namine

Lucifer

Lucifer X Chloe

Maze X Eve

Magic Knight Rayearth

Hikaru X Lantis

Umi X Clef

Fu X Ferio

Marvel Comics

Steve X Sharon

Tony X Pepper

Thor X Sif

Hank X Janet

Reed X Sue

Peter X MJ

Wanda X Vision

Jean X Scott

Kitty X Colossus

Rogue X Gambit

Rachel X Kurt

Black Bolt X Medusa

Clint X Bobbi

Bucky X Natasha

Matt X Elektra

Luke X Jessica

Warren X Psylocke

Miraculous Ladybug

Adrien X Marinette

Alya X Nino

Naruto

Naruto X Hinata

Sasuke X Karin

Sakura X Rock Lee

Neji X TenTen

Shikamaru X Temari

Ino X Sai

Choji X Karui

Gaara X Matsuri

Kakashi X Might Guy

Asuna X Kurenai

Tsunade X Dan

Yahiko X Konan

Ouran HighSchool Host Club

Haruhi X Tamaki

Persona

Yu X Rise

Chie X Yukiko

Kanji X Naoto

Ren X Makoto (or Kasumi if we're going with Royal canon)

Power Rangers

Tommy X Katherine

Jason X Trini

Adam X Tanya

TJ X Cassie

Andros X Ashley

Karone X Zhane

Leo X Kendrix

Carter X Dana

Wes X Jen

Cole X Alyssa

Taylor X Eric

Tori X Blake

Trent X Kira

Sky X Z

Doggie X Kat

Nick X Madison

Mack X Rose

Casey X Lily

Dillon X Summer

Ziggy X Dr. K

Kevin X Mia

Mike X Emily

Troy X Gia

Tyler X Shelby

Eddie X Vesper

Marv X Chloe

Amelia X Ollie

Ranma ½

Ranma X Akane

Revolutionary Girl Utena

Utena X Anthy

Rurouni Kenshin

Kenshin X Kaoru

RWBY

Ruby X Penny

Blake X Sun

Weiss X Marrow

Yang X Weiss

Jaune X Pyrrha

Ren X Nora

Qrow X Summer

Sailor Moon

Usagi X Mamoru

Ami X Zoisite

Rei X Jadeite

Minako X Rei

Makoto X Nephrite

Minako X Kunzite

Saint Seiya

Seiya X Shaina

Hyoga X Eri

Shiryu X Shunrei

Shun X June

Ikki X Esmeralda

Deathmask X Aphrodite

Aiolia X Lyfia

Yato X Yuzuriha

Sasha X Tenma

Koga X Yuna

Souma X Sonia

She-Ra (Netflix Version)

Adora X Glimmer

Catra X Scorpia

Star Wars

Obi-Wan X Satine

Anakin X Padme

Ahsoka X Lux

Luke X Mara Jade

Han X Leia

Finn X Rey X Poe

Din Djarin X Bo-Katan

Super Sentai

Ryu X Kaori

Sasuke X Tsuruhime

Chisato X Kouichirou

Shun X Miku

Yuri X Tatsuya

Yosuke X Ikkou

Isshu X Nanami

Mari X Ban

Sen X Umeko

Doggie X Swan

Sakura X Akashi

Masume X Natsuhi

Rio X Mele

Sosuke X Miu

Chiaki X Kotoha

Takeru X Mako

Alata X Eri

Hyde X Moune

Marvelous X Luka

Joe X Ahim

Daigo X Mikoto

Tokatti X Mio

Hikari X Kagura

Yamato X Sela

Amu X Tusk

Lucky X Hammie

Balance X Naga

Keiichiro X Tsukasa

Sakuya X Umika

Koh X Asuna

Bamba X Asuna

Shigeru X Sayo

Tarou X Sonoi

Sword Art Online

Kirito X Asuna

The Dragon Prince

Callum X Rayla

Amaya X Janai

ThunderCats

Lion-O X Cheetara

Bengali X Pumyra

Transformers

Optimus X Elita-One

Arcee X Hot Rod

Bulkhead X Wheeljack

Silverbolt X Blackarachnia

Ultraman

Ken X Mari

Voltron

Shiro X Matt

Keith X Allura

Lance X Pidge

Hunk X Shay

Winx Club

Bloom X Sky

Musa X Riven

Flora X Helia

Stella X Brandon

Tecna X Timmy

Layla X Nabu

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fnaf-stories-and-posts · 2 months ago

Text

Halloween Night at Freddy’s (Pizzaplex) [Act Two]

Prequel fic to Christmas With A Freddy by ShadowBelle23 (Me) on AO3.

Since Evan is now being called Dave. I know that some people think that Cassidy is the crying child and Afton’s son while Dave is the fifth victim of Afton. No, it’s vice versa because of Princess Quest.

Since there’s already a living child character in this fanfic called Dave, I’ll leave the name Evan alone. Also, I wrote this fanfic a year ago and I’m going through it now to polish it up compared to the original AO3 post.

Word Count: 4,334

Character Count: 23,770

Reading Time: 15 minutes 46 seconds

Speaking Time: 24 minutes 5 seconds

————————————————————

*The Next Day*

Max was in Skylands with Ro-bow at his side, he had called a meeting with some of the Portal Masters that were available. If some didn’t show up, he was content with it as long as the word got out. So far, it’s just him, Isabel, Rachel, Crystal, Amelia, Jamie, Gin and Elliott.

They currently sit in one of the spare living rooms that the Academy has. Max understands that this isn’t a typical “Skylands in danger” reason to be serious, so Master Eon wasn’t with them.

“So, I’ve gathered you all here today. I know that we usually do meetings for serious Save Worlds situations, but today isn’t it,” Max says as they listen. “Recently, my friend Dave and I went to Freddy’s Pizzaplex and we discovered an abandoned animatronic underground. We believe she’s having emotional trauma about herself for feeling abandoned and unwanted. She even shooed me and my friend away with slight aggression. But even if we’re not Portal Masters saving worlds, we know in our hearts it’s right to help another in need.”

They all nodded in agreement and Max showed them the pamphlet. “Glamrock Freddy told me that they’re doing a Halloween special for customers to stay there overnight like a sleepover. When the place closes and everyone leaves, the whole building is ours to do as we please. We could bring our Skylander friends to help out looking for her,” Max continues.

“Her?” Rachel asks curiously.

“She doesn’t have a proper name. She was given 1Z-2Y, so we named her Onesie. I think she was supposed to be a human Glamrock animatronic but I guess she never made it to the Final Cut after being built, therefore forgotten by the company,” Max clarifies.

“Ouch, talk about getting a hard kick to the shin by rejection,” Jamie winces.

“I’m in, I would like to enjoy a day to forget about work to get the Taylor Swift songs out of my head,” Isabel admits.

Everyone laughs. They have known Isabel long enough to know that when it comes to working at the movie theater, they know sometimes she ends up getting the end credit songs stuck in her head if there are lyrics. Even the annoyingly catchy ones. But because of the Eras Tour, it’s nothing but songs playing in multiple theaters.

“I love Taylor Swift. Bless her heart. But I feel like I’m losing my sanity constantly hearing her songs,” Isabel continues, and everyone continues laughing. “I’m serious, I’m at this point that I’m going to have to look up song titles from the span of seven years I’ve heard from the end credits to make a Spotify playlist just to get her out of my head.”

“I’m in for it, staying overnight at a business sounds fun,” Rachel admits.

“And we’re not getting in trouble for it,” Jamie adds. Since people in the past have either successfully or failed to stay overnight at a business since after closing hours makes it trespassing or “breaking and entering” some would stay.

“I’m in!” Crystal says. “Sounds like fun.”

Amelia, Gin, and Elliott look at the pamphlet. Amelia was on her phone trying to see how much the reservation was. Because something like that isn’t cheap. Sure enough, Amelia squeaked as her eyes widened in shock. She showed her phone to Gin and Elliott, they were shocked as well before she showed the others. Matching the same expression too when they saw the price.

“Dang,” Isabel says in surprise. “That’s a lot more bucks than a private reservation party for the Eras screening.”

“How on Earth are we gonna come up with that amount of money in a short period? Some of us that have jobs don’t have the affordability for that!” Rachel then asks.

“I know that Mags can turn treasure here into authentic Earth money, but I don’t know if I have enough treasure saved for this sort of thing,” Jamie admits.

(I know they could ask the Golden Queen for help but they don’t want to take advantage and abuse her power like that.)

Even the others agreed with Jamie. That is until they heard Isabel take a deep calm breath in and they looked at her. “I may have years worth of treasure put to the side,” Isabel admits.

“How much?” Gin asks curiously and Isabel makes a thinking sound. “Honestly, I’d rather show you,” she says. Which made everyone intrigued. They quickly went to the house she shared with Rattle Shake, they went into the living room and Isabel moved the furniture using her Chaos Emerald and uncovered the floor from a rug.

She turns her knife into a crowbar to reveal a hidden latch door that camouflages with the floor. Revealing an underground “bunker” of sorts. Rachel immediately goes down in the hole first. It wasn’t too deep and she could easily climb out.

“Isabel!” She exclaims in awe at what she witnessed. “You have ten Imaginite Chests full of treasure?!”

All of her friends look at her and she gives a smug look. “What better way to reuse them? And it’s not just treasure from Skylands, there’s thousands of gold rings from Sonic’s world too,” Isabel says. “Besides, I’m now curious about how much I’ve gotten in Earth money now.”

Her friends squeal in glee. After getting one of the chests to Mags, it was enough to pay for the Halloween reservation and more that they added to the package deal as a treat. Thankfully those who have jobs were able to get the day off for it.

*October 31st 2023*

The day finally came and it was Halloween. They got there around opening time and an employee greeted them inside. “Hello everyone, my name is Carol and I’m your Faz-tenant for your room today,” the employee greets herself. “If you’ll follow me, please, I’ll guide you to your room.”

So they do reluctantly. Their party room is like a large hotel suite with a large living space with beds in a different room. It was decently decorated with Halloween and Fall decor.

“This is your party suite for you to stay and relax whenever you feel the need to. Our employees will not enter here during your stay so you won’t feel disturbed unless you ask for provided services or have any concerns about the room. But, we do care about your safety here for your overnight stay,” Carol continues and opens a closet with a metal briefcase in it and hands Rachel it.

“This contains your access key Fazbands to your suite, there’s even trackers in them so the animatronics can find you throughout the Pizzaplex. There’s even a health detection concern security, HDCS, in case of emergencies if you’re having an allergic reaction, stroke, seizure, high blood pressure, sudden fatigue, or any serious health concerns and the band will immediately send an alert to 911. And please do not lose or break the bands, they’re not cheap to replace.”

“Don’t worry, I added a down payment in case of accidents,” Isabel adds. “Thank you, Carol.”

“You’re welcome,” she says before remembering something before she decides to leave. “Also you’re welcome to come and leave the Pizzaplex as long as you wear your band in case of emergencies or if you want to just leave for something. Anyways, I’ll leave you guys to your fun, Superstars.”

“Speaking of Superstars, is there anyone coming to the Daycare today?” Isabel asks curiously. Carol pursed her lips and checked her clipboard. “I don’t think so, nothing has been scheduled or called in. It is Halloween and kids will be trick or treating,” Carol says.

“Can Sun hang out with us? If no one is coming to the Daycare today, I don’t want poor Sun being stuck in Daycare with no one to talk to and with no one to have fun with,” Isabel then explains.

“Fair,” Carol says, agreeing with her. “I will allow it, but if someone does have to leave a child in Daycare, he has to go back to his work, okay?” Isabel then nods. “Alright, have fun, Superstars.” Then she leaves.

“Aw, typical Izzy being the generous one,” Rachel smiles.

“I’m right, you know. Halloween is the one time of the year when kids will be with their parents away from home. So having the Daycare open today is kinda pointless. Besides, I don’t want to leave bored people away from having a good time,” Isabel admits.

Rachel then opens the briefcase on the coffee table and inside are various bands with a simple one-color pallet or is designed for a certain character’s color palette. “Ooh, dibs on this one!” Isabel says, gladly taking the Sun/Moon band.

Rachel chuckles and decides to have a band to match her Chaos Emerald including Jamie. Crystal chose mint green while Amelia chose a yellow one with pearl white accents. Gin chose cyan and Elliott chose a powdered black.

“I wish they had the Sun/Moon one separately. I would have chosen Moon and you can be Sun,” Elliott tells Isabel.

“Nah, Amelia would be Sun because of her element,” Isabel says and Elliott lightly laughs at that statement with Amelia. “But I agree, Elliott.”

Currently, Max and Dave are having a Rock, Paper, Scissors battle over the Freddy and Monty bands. “You know, you could flip a coin to see who gets what,” Isabel tells them before handing them a quarter. “Freddy is heads. Monty is tails. Someone makes the call without looking at what side will the coin is up. Depends on who’s right or wrong will get said band.”

“Easy,” Max says and lets Dave flip the coin. “I chose heads.” Dave flips and heads is up. Max gets Freddy and Dave gets Monty.

Everyone then leaves their belongings as they go to have fun. Isabel decides to go into the Daycare to find Sun via a big slide into the ball pit. After getting up, she looks around and doesn’t see Sun anywhere. “Hello?! Sun?! Are you here?!” Isabel calls out to him.

She then sees Sun jump off from his balcony and into the ball pit before emerging from it. Then he sees her. “Well hello there, I wasn’t expecting a visitor to come to my domain this early. Do you plan on leaving any kids here soon? So far, my databanks tell me no one is coming in today,” he says, sounding slightly disappointed at the last bit.

“Sadly no. I’m one of the overnight visitors today for Halloween. I talked to Carol and she’s allowing you to be dismissed from your job to have fun with us until someone comes to drop off a child,” Isabel says before holding out her hand. “I’m Isabel, you can call me Izzy if you wish.”

“Aw, thank you,” Sun says, charmingly holding her hand and gently shaking it. “I’ve always liked Carol. But I’m supposed to stay here in case any kids show up and I’m not allowed to leave.”

“Sun, you’re dismissed until otherwise. Besides, there’s kids in our group anyways so you won’t be missing out,” Isabel says. “And if you still refuse, I’ll carry you out myself.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Sun chuckles. “Let me just get my security badge quickly.” He then walks to the desk to get his special badge with a lanyard attachment. “I can’t leave this behind, it’s too important to leave around in the open.”

As Sun was about to grab his badge, Isabel saw a blinking green light before he snatched it. “What was that?” Isabel asks curiously.

“My AI reader. Whenever I want to take my badge, I have to scan my AI first as a safety protocol. Because if someone like you snatches it without my AI scan, the lights in the Daycare will turn off and Moon will come out to hunt for the badge to retrieve it back,” Sun explains before approaching Isabel. “Since you got Carol to dismiss me, you will be my trusted Czar of my card until I need it back. But you have to promise to never use its power without my granted permission or to ever take it off.”

“I promise, Sun,” Isabel says and they pinky promise to it. Then she allows Sun to put it around her neck like a medallion of honor. She is sincere in keeping this trust.

The two walk out of the Daycare, hand in hand, and they find Isabel’s friends talking to the Glamrocks at the stage area. Guess Max was introducing his animatronic friends to the Portal Masters. Guess they heard them coming since they turned to see them. “And that’s Isabel,” Max says to Freddy and his band.

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Freddy says and his band members agree. Then the bear sees Sun. “But Sun, aren’t you supposed to be in your area?”

“Yes, but Isabel got Carol to dismiss me. For now, until someone decides to drop off their kid. Highly unlikely today, but I’m willing to join the fun,” Sun says cheerfully.

“He made me his card Czar until he needs it back. I promised to not use it without his granted permission,” Isabel adds. “And to never take it off. I’ve been told it’s important.”

“I’m glad you’re a friend to Sun,” Freddy then smiles. “And letting him join you guys, he doesn’t get out of the Daycare much.”

“That is true,” Sun sheepishly admits. “But, I’m excited to see every inch of this place as possible.” He chuckles.

“But also be wary of The Blob too,” Monty adds. “It usually doesn’t leave the underground when we’re busy, but it’s best to warn you in case you come across it.”

The group nods and considers the warning. They then take off in different directions while the band gets ready for today. “So Sun, any thoughts on where you want to go first?” Isabel asks, and Sun shakes his head.

“I’ve never left the Daycare for fun or leisure before,” he admits.

“That’s okay, we can play Fazer Blast together,” Isabel smiles. “It will be fun.”

“And the card?” Sun asks in concern, not wanting her to lose it or let it fall off.

“I know you said not to take it off, but I can tuck it into my supportive garment for safety,” she assures Sun. “Don’t worry, I’m clean, my garment is clean. If I sweat on it, I can replace the lanyard and wash the card.” Knowing he can be a bit germaphobic.

“Thank you,” Sun sighed contentedly before they went there. The employee there almost denied Sun playing if it wasn’t for Carol. Probably because the place was dark enough for Moon to be triggered to come out.

Thankfully Sun assures the employee that as long as there is some light, Moon can’t come out. They were the only ones there, usually, they would start the game if there were more people. But Carol let the two play together.

While they watched the video, Sun and Isabel decided to role-play for the game. They continued with the space theme, Sun is an alien protector of the galaxy called Supernova, and Isabel is Dr. Mars. An evil mad scientist with the desire to become the God of the Milky Way.

Sun’s keycard that Isabel has. Is the keycard for Dr. Mars’ destruction of Earth to conquer it. The only way to stop Dr. Mars’ missiles from destroying countries is if Sun captures all of Isabel’s flags before the countdown launch ends.

To be honest, Isabel didn’t care if she lost during role-play. She wanted Sun to be happy. She proceeded to play, capturing Sun’s flags until she soon realized they each had one flag standing. Isabel decides to defend her only flag and sees Sun approaching. “Give it up, Dr. Mars!” He says triumphantly. “Your reign is coming to an end and I will make sure justice will be served!”

Cheesy, guess he’s not familiar with acting and action movies to come up with a good line. But it can be pardoned, he’s a Daycare attendant, not an actor. Before Isabel says anything, all the lights in Fazer Blast go out; audio, their suits, everything. And Sun starts to freak out. Then Isabel heard the PA squeal, hoping it was a sign of employee concern that they could fix. But it was not, instead, Isabel hears this;

“In shadows deep, Isabel, beware.

The Moon's cold gaze, your life laid bare.

A serial killer's eerie song in darkness chill,

Isabel, your fate, he longs to fulfill.”

A female sing song voice while Sun resists Moon from coming out. He fails before hearing him change. Using her phone light, she sees Moon in all his glory.

“Naughty, Naughty,” Moon tisks at her, taking the Fazer Blast suit off. “You must be punished.” Isabel didn’t bother to ask why or what for. Moon is unhinged and after her. She starts parkouring across from above rather than dealing with the maze structure below. Moon decides to do the same thing too to follow her. Out of all the robots she fought and destroyed, this one, she cannot.

She was okay with Moon following her as long as she was out of reach to bring him into the light. If Moon refuses, she can use her powers to bring him out. She runs out of Fazer Blast, past the employee who is confused as to why the lights are off and running. But when Moon came out, they quickly put two and two together and went away.

Isabel was soon out in the light of the Pizzaplex while Moon stalked in the shadows at the entryway of Fazer Blast. Isabel checks her surroundings and no one is around, so she uses her Emerald to force Moon out telepathically. It works but he still resists. Once he was out in the light, Moon switched back to Sun.

“Rule breaker! Rule breaker! You’re banned from the Daycare!” Sun says angrily as his programming kicks in before he realizes where he is.

“Isabel, did the lights…?”

“Yeah.”

“Did Moon…?”

“No.”

He then sighs in relief.

“Do you remember what happened after switching?” Isabel then asks curiously.

“Besides the light turning off? No,” Sun says.

“Then is Moon listening?” She then asks.

“Yeah, he’s always listening,” Sun admits, then he was quiet like he was listening. “Moon asked if you heard someone singing over the PA.”

“How could I not? It was creepy. How did they know we were in there, and how did they know my name?” Isabel then wonders curiously.

“I don’t know, as much as I loved having that short amount of fun with you, I’d feel better at the Daycare knowing that there isn’t a creepy person trying to harm people,” Sun admits and Isabel understands.

“Then I’m sorry your fun was short-lived, Sun,” she then says sadly.

“Don’t be, I had a great time. I just don’t want to risk Moon coming out again. He’s quite unpredictable and chaotic and I don’t know what he’ll do if he’s out again.” He says assuringly before pausing. “You can be sometimes.” That was directed towards Moon.

Isabel chuckles. “How about you take a break in your area? It sounds like whenever you change, it’s painful to you. And don’t worry, I will warn my friends of what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Sun sighs before cheering himself up again. “I will not let this get me down, for you and your friends, Izzy.”

Isabel smiles and gives him back his keycard and returns the vests and blaster to Fazer Blaster. Isabel then frowns in worry as she goes to find her friends. The only person that knew she and Sun were in there was Carol. Did Carol turn off the lights on purpose? And was that her over the PA? Something suspicious was going on and she didn’t like it.

She found her friends in the arcade together, she didn’t know if it was a good idea to speak out loud of what just occurred to her. She didn’t know if Carol was listening.

“Rachel. Jamie. Didn’t you get my text?” Isabel asks and Rachel looks at her confused.

“What text?” Rachel asks and Isabel then sends her message to Jamie and Rachel in a group text. They both looked at their phones as they heard their text ringtones. Reading the text she sent about what happened at Fazer Blaster.

“Okay, we’ll be careful,” Jamie says. “And we’ll let the others know.”

“I’m gonna be at the suite. I’m not used to danger being thrown at me when I’m in a comfortable environment,” Isabel sighs.

“Alright,” Rachel says and looks at her phone, not even noon yet. “At noon, we’ll eat lunch together. Afterward, bring Sun to the suite, we’ll need to come up with a plan to figure out what’s going on and who’s doing this.”

Isabel nods and hugs them before leaving. Jamie then sighs in frustration. “The one day I was hoping to have a break from heroism,” he says in exasperation.

“Sadly I don’t think this is something we can blow off and ignore,” Rachel adds. “As long as there are bad people out there, we have to stand up against them. Especially if a bad person is targeting one of our friends.”

“I know,” Jamie sighs. The others weren’t happy either, saying the same thing as Jamie did. When lunch came, Isabel felt guilty even though it was not her fault. Causing her to stress eat her feelings.

“Isabel,” Gin says and slides her plate of brownies away from her. “It’s not your fault. You have nothing to blame yourself for.”

“Yeah!” Elliott agrees. “Besides, me and Gin betted how long it would be until we had to start doing our hero work.”

“Who lost?” Isabel asks and Gin raises his hand.

“Besides, October is serial killer season anyway. Who wouldn’t want to take down a Michael Myers wannabe anyway?” Gin adds. “We’re not gonna stay here overnight and twiddle our thumbs, knowing there’s a killer on the loose until someone is dead. We’ll take care of this together.”

“I guess I can repay you guys for a movie,” Isabel chuckles.

“You don’t have to repay us,” Amelia assures her. “But we won’t hesitate on that offer though. Now cheer up before we get Sun to tickle you until your lungs hurt.”

“Guys, not in public,” Isabel says bashfully with a slightly embarrassed tone which makes everyone laugh.

Once lunch was over, Isabel quickly got Sun and his badge. Then they went to meet their friends at the suite. Sitting together in the living room and looking at the map of the building’s layout. To keep their conversation private in case there is a hidden bug in the room, Isabel, Rachel, and Jamie use their Emeralds to create a magic static sound around the group to keep anyone from knowing their plans.

“So, what do we do in a situation like this?” Isabel asks. “There’s a psycho murderer on the loose. I may not watch a lot of horror films, but I do know it makes targeting us easier while apart. Unless that’s what they expect us to do.”

“But we don’t know what they’re planning,” Rachel says before looking at Crystal. “I know you can handle yourself. But I don’t wish for anything bad to happen to you, and I wish for you to stay with one of the Glamrocks while we work, okay?” Crystal nods, not arguing with her sister.

Rachel continues. “It’ll be me, Jamie, you, Amelia, Gin and Elliott. With Sun’s help if he wishes. While Dave and Max go find Onesie underground. Since Dave isn’t a Portal Master. Max, I want you to summon Ro-Bow to be with you to protect him and to help you in case you run into trouble underground.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Gin says. “But this place is massive. How are the seven of us going to cover so much ground while trying not to get killed?”

“We have access to the security feed in the cameras. We can keep an eye on the footage of which rooms you’re not in,” Sun informs. “With my badge, I can have access to emergency communicators we have that you guys can talk to each other with.”

“Like special walkie-talkies?” Dave asks and Sun nods.

“Okay, that solved one problem,” Rachel sighs in relief. “Isabel, you can patrol around the arcades. I will stay at Monty��s while Jamie is at Roxy’s Raceway. Amelia goes to Chica’s Mazereise. Gin at Bonnie Bowl and Elliott at Fazer Blast.”

“Since it’s Halloween, the building will close at nine,” Sun continues to inform them. “Because of how slow it is, I’m sure they will be gone soon after.”

“Then we grab the communicators and split,” Isabel nods. “For now, we wait.”

That was the hard part. Time anxiously ticking by felt slow, by the time it was three PM, they did everything they could at the Pizzaplex to keep themselves entertained until their options dwindled. So they made the reasonable choice; sleep. If they were going to deal with a serial killer, they’re going to need all the rest they can get.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fandom #fnaf au #fnaf fanfic #five nights at freddy’s #five nights at freddy #five nights at freddys #five nights at Freddy’s fanfic

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