#do you know how much money you would make if you gave foxy a long scary tongue on the next game?

[tagidearte-spam-sb]

Can Secret of the Mimic give us Foxy again? I miss Foxy. I hope he (and Chica) are not thrown aside and we only get Bonnie and Freddy a la Fredbear Family Diner or something.

[fae-nightray]

Afton

…

Michael couldn’t remember how many years it had been since it all began. He just remembered waking up from his coma, some sort of sick twisted joke that the universe was playing on him. Him waking up but his little brother long gone from the world. He remembered the doctor coming in, calling him by his last name.

“Doctor you’re wrong, my last name is-”

“Michael, it’s fine, there is no judgment here. I just wanted to let you know that your family’s lawyer is waiting outside to talk with you.”

When the lawyer came in, the conversation was short, but to the point. His father had taken out life insurance policies on himself and all his children when his wife had left. Seeing as how Mr. Afton was dead, and Miachael was the only child left, he became the sole beneficiary. For the several months he was in the hospital dealing with rehabilitation and healing, he thought about what to do with all that money. It was more than he would ever need to use on himself, and he wanted to do something with it that would matter, that would mean something.

Michael thought about his father, and all the evil that man had done. He thought about his brother, about how terrified he was at the end. It was then he decided that he would finally erase the bloody name of Afton. He would turn it into something new. He had taken some engineering and business courses in college, all he would have to do is contact the family lawyer and get some advice.

Advice he did get. He waited a few years to make sure any remaining rumors had died once and for all, and then he announced the plans for the Freddy Fazbears Pizza Plex. A place where kids could experience fun, where parents could have nostalgia, and most of all, a place where families and children could be safe. It worked, at first.

The animatronics were all he could have ever hoped for. He programmed them specifically to have a special ai system that would protect the kids but also not interfere with the parents. They were perfect, with their growing personalities, and abundance of joy, and then his lawyer made a call. He was in need of a new night time security guard, that’s when he was told he had to hire Vanessa. It was fine at first, but he already wasn’t happy that the man had bought a good portion of the company’s shares. Now he was being told who to hire.

He thought Vanessa got along with Freddy and them at first, and then things started happening. Foxy began to glitch out and got into an accident. The Bonnie incident happened. He didn’t take kindly to people potentially harming his animatronics, his friends, his family. So he gave Vanessa the night off, donned his old cap and began to do some investigating. He didn’t know how it happened, everything happened so fast. He found himself in the basement, a level he’d never seen before. He saw a suit, The Suit. He started to panic, to run. His lungs didn’t work like they used to though, he had to pause to try and breathe, and then everything went dark.

When he next woke up everything was still dark, and he heard a voice. “Mr. Afton, did you really honestly think you could change anything? That he somehow wouldn’t be able to find you? As much as you try to run away from the past, it will always catch up to you. Take Vanessa for example. Her older sister was one of your fathers first victims, she still found you. It’s unfortunate we had to corrupt the software in your toys that you worked oh so hard on. I hear Freddy was inspired by your little brother. That he’d be the perfect friend and protector for any little boy that was scared and lost. We’re going to give you one final gift. Since you wanted Freddy to be the brother you never could be, we will let you become him.” Then everything was dark. Everything was dark until he heard a young boy's voice calling his name

[vulpes-fennec]

Pumpkin Fields Forever (Part 3) 🎃

Summary: The Harvest Festival saga continues as Elain and Lucien finally have a conversation longer than 5 minutes and begin to ~see~ each other. 

TW: Mentions of violence/gore

“Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see. It’s getting hard to be someone but it all works out, it doesn’t matter much to me”

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

Elain had made a beeline for the apple cider booth after the corn maze. She was parched, and hungry. Lucien had wordlessly stepped in front of her to pay for the drinks, but Elain silently muscled him out of the way. She would sooner rip her daisies out of the ground than be indebted to him. Allowing Lucien to pay was also too close to courting, and she would not allow their interactions to cross that line today.

In the end, neither of them won. The vendor recognized Elain as Feyre’s sister, giving them the ciders free of charge and adding sweet rice cakes on the house. Elain forced down her annoyance and thanked the vendor for his generosity.  

Elain hesitated when it came to picking up the food. What if I accidentally accept the mating bond by casually passing food to Lucien? She hesitated so long that Lucien ended up putting the refreshments on a tray himself.

Elain managed to pay for two slices of pumpkin pie at another booth, adding them to Lucien’s tray. Her gaze lingered on a delicious-looking pear crumble, but she decided to walk on. The two silently settled in a small table under an orange and yellow-leaved oak. 

“Wait here,” were Lucien’s first words to her in a while. Elain stared at Lucien’s retreating back, confused. I just want to eat. Does he really trust me to just stay here? Because there’s nothing stopping me from leaving…Elain glanced around, noting how everybody at the Harvest Festival was in an easy, happy mood. She seemed to be the only one who was a ball of nervous energy.  

He returned in less than five minutes. Elain’s eyes widened eagerly: Lucien had gotten the pear crumble from the pastry booth earlier. “I saw you were eyeing these…” he trailed off, tan face darkening with blush when she looked up at him. 

“Thank you,” Elain mumbled, mindful of her fingers when she took the bowl from him. He took the extra effort just for me. Elain didn’t know how to feel about it. She felt touched by the gesture, but…perhaps he was only motivated by the mating instincts to provide for her. 

Every item was perfectly spiced and sweetened, cooked to perfection. It was agonizing to be eating the food in silence, when all Elain wanted to do was comment on the dishes. She could’ve sworn Lucien smiled a bit when she inhaled the pear crumble, washing it down with a gulp of hot apple cider. 

She would have to recreate this masterpiece in the kitchen next week. Ginger seemed to be the special warming ingredient, and maybe even cinnamon…

“You didn’t like it when Daniela’s mother referred to you as Feyre’s sister. Or when the vendor gave us free food after recognizing you as an Archeron.” 

Elain blinked slowly, looking up from her rice cakes. “There’s nothing wrong with being an Archeron,” she replied neutrally. 

Lucien arched an eyebrow. “Does disliking special treatment make you feel ashamed? Because you’re worried it’ll come off as ungrateful?” 

Elain squirmed with discomfort. “Are you asking me or are you speculating?” 

“I think you feel bad because you’ve relied on Feyre your whole life.” Lucien’s gold eye focused on her with a whirr. “You’re struggling to break out of that cycle, am I right?”

“Is this interrogation happening because I didn’t let you pay?” Elain stabbed her rice cake with a little extra force. She regretted eating the pear crumble now. He must’ve given me it to butter me up, she thought with dismay. 

“Let you pay? With what money?” Lucien chuckled. Elain seethed at his taunt, his foxy countenance. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been so annoyed at an attractive male. Men and males—especially handsome ones—tended to be agreeable with her.

“Fine. I may not have an official job.” Saying it out loud cemented how she didn’t have a major role at the Night Court, no matter how many charities she worked or parties she planned. Elain hated it.

Lucien has a bigger role than me and he’s hardly here. That’s not fair. She found a way to retort, and proceeded to use it. “But Rhys and Feyre pay you, so you’re relying on Feyre too, aren’t you?” 

That seemed to knock Lucien down a few pegs, but he recovered quickly. “It seems my lady and I agree on one thing: we don’t like being on the Night Court’s payroll. But the difference between you and me—” he leaned closer, his scent and smirk making Elain’s head spin “—is that I don’t pretend to enjoy it.”

Elain felt like a deer staring at a notched arrow. She’d spent less than a whole day with this male over the last few years, yet he’d already identified something she kept hidden from everybody else. This is precisely why I don’t want to spend time with him. He’ll be running once he knows my horrible thoughts. “You can’t just peek into the bond—” 

“You hardly send anything down the bond,” Lucien replied dryly. “Everything I’ve said has been the product of my prior knowledge and current observations.” 

Elain glowered at him as she took a sip of her cider. So he HAS been reading me like the emissary he is. That is hardly any more reassuring than knowing he isn’t using the bond. “Well, congratulations,” she said sarcastically. “You are correct. I don’t like it when people treat me differently because of my sisters.” 

Lucien clenched his jaw slightly at her tone. “I take no happiness in your misery, my lady.” 

A small silence passed, with Elain struggling to get ahold of herself while Lucien slowly munched his pie. “Speaking of the…the bond. You send things to me.” 

Lucien froze mid-bite. He set down his spoon apprehensively. “When? What did I send?”  

“It wasn’t very often. When you t-tugged on it? In the townhouse. And during the Solstice, I felt you were…disappointed.” The words were sludge in her throat. Speaking them into existence meant acknowledging that she played a part in that disappointment when she spurned his gift. “And today, twice. At the petting zoo.” 

“Ah. I’m sorry.” Lucien’s eyes flicked down, avoiding Elain. “I try to keep things to myself but it looks like some things have slipped through.” 

Hiding his emotions must be a massive mental strain. Elain understood the strain all too well. But if I let him relax his hold, then the constant connection would remind me of the bond waiting to be addressed. 

Lucien is a permanent fixture for the rest of my immortal life…does he even WANT such responsibility? Would he want me if the bond did not exist?

“You come out swinging while I’m trying to enjoy some dessert,” Elain huffed, trying to break the awkwardness. “My turn. How did you lose your eye? And why are you ashamed of it?” 

“I’m not ashamed of it,” he replied defensively. “I just…I know it’s intimidating to look at. I used to be quite the handsome male, you know.” He smirked again at Elain, waiting for her reaction. 

Elain only blinked at him with an expression of neutrality. She bit the urge to tell him he was still good-looking. “So you’re self-conscious,” she supplied instead. 

Lucien shrugged. “I had a mask stuck to my face for 49 years.” He paused, glancing down at his hands. “Seeing how old friends looked at my new face differently, how children shrank back in fear…that was why I glamoured myself around Daniela. I’m still self-conscious around new people.” 

“You didn’t glamour yourself when you met me,” Elain pointed out. 

Lucien’s russet eye flicked towards her. “You’d already seen me at Hybern.” His voice quiet at the horrible memory. “But you did look at me differently with the glamour. So if you prefer me to keep it on—”

“No,” Elain said sharply. “No. I’d prefer it if you appeared to me…as you are.” Lucien’s face was hesitantly relieved at her admission. 

Perhaps her acceptance of his face was what prompted him to ask, “You know who Amarantha is, right?” 

She nodded. The Hybern general who trapped all the High Lords, who assaulted Rhys for 50 years, who killed Feyre and Clare Beddor. “Well, Tam wanted me to deliver a message as emissary. A rejection of her romantic advances wrapped up in a political package and let’s just say that the witch did not take it well. Her sheer entitlement and cruelty reminded me of my father, Beron…I lost my temper and told her to go back to the shit-hole she crawled out of.” 

If Lucien’s use of coarse language bothered Elain, she didn’t show it. “And then what?” she breathed. 

“Amarantha did not take that well, either. One minute I was standing in front of her, the next I was on the ground, unable to see out of my left eye.” Lucien grimaced, and his metal eye stuttered in distress. “With my right eye, I saw her holding what remained of my left one. She swiftly crushed it under her boot.” The image of such violence shook Elain to her core. 

Lucien shuddered, paling visibly. It took all of Elain’s self-control to not reach for his hand, to steady the rapid thump-thump-thumping of his heart. He continued. “I staggered out of the room, blood pouring down my face. I managed to winnow back to Tam’s manor before passing out…and when I came to, I realized that no amount of Fae healing could remake an eye. Or heal the scar she’d left on my face. That was how deeply she raked her poisoned nails into me.” 

Elain felt sick. Feyre’s right, she thought angrily. Amarantha did not suffer enough. For what she did to everybody. What she did to Lucien. He didn’t deserve any of it. 

A roaring sound arose in her ears. “I hope she’s rotting in hell,” she muttered with deadly venom. A desire for vengeance turned her normally soft eyes into hardened stone. Lucien’s gold eye whirred and spun while his russet one regarded her unflinchingly. 

“I’ve upset you.” His gentle voice reminded Elain’s instincts that he was alive, that he was safe from any danger. She blinked, realizing she was breathing hard and gripping her fork with a clenched fist.

It was a moment before she could speak again. “I’m not upset at you…just upset because you feel the need to hide it,” Elain said quietly. “If people knew what you’d been through…how you survived…they would recognize your bravery like Daniela’s father.” 

She meant every word of it. Even though the logical part of her brain was telling her to stop engaging with Lucien, the softer side of her wanted to comfort him, to gently trace his scar and take away the pain he felt over his looks.

This isn’t real, she told herself. It’s the bond, making you feel this way. Right?

“Thank you, my lady.” Lucien hesitantly touched her hand on the table, sending a thrill through Elain. His broad palm was warm in the autumn chill. “Your words mean a lot to me.” 

Elain nodded, throat closing up. If they were having a heart-to-heart now, perhaps she could ask him about things like her father’s final days or Lucien’s experiences living in the human lands.

But Lucien seemed to have other things in mind. He’d shrugged off the somber mood with a wry grin and stood up. “No more moping about my past. How does a carnival game sound?” 

Read: Part 4

**I bought some pears and I’ve been thinking of making a pear crumble dessert because fall baking is Eluciencore 🍐// Also the title is a play on “Strawberry Fields Forever” because the lyrics are major Elucien angst**

[factual-fantasy]

.....Guys..

Guys I cant cope with this, its too adorable.

I.. dude like.. for real.. like..

Transformers.. are made of metal.. and magnets.. stick to metallll...

...duuuude... I have so many cute headcannons now that I feel like my head is going to explode..

Imagine Miko.. She saves up her money and buys this sheet magnet one day right? She draws these cute little pictures, cuts them out, glues them to the magnet and cuts the magnet sheet to make her own personalized magnets.

She started with Bulkhead. She would discretely place the magnets on the back of his legs as high up as she could reach. He’s a bit clueless, cant actually see them unless he deliberately looks for them and cant feel them. So he has like 15 magnets stuck to his legs but he doesn’t know at all.

Miko manages to stick about 3 on Bumblebee before he started getting suspicious.

She gave some to Raf and Jack and they joined in.

The kids ended up turning it onto a game. They tried to see who could get the most magnets on different bots. Ratchet being worth the most points.

All three kids got about two magnets each on Optimus which was really hard to do because they had to somewhat climb on him and hope he didn’t move. Optimus knew from the very beginning exactly what they were doing and when they were doing it to him, but he thought it was adorable so pretended to be oblivious and stand extra still whenever he felt one of them climbing up on his pedes. Plus, Optimus was worth a lot of points in the game so he didn’t to make one of them lose because he caught them in the act.

Miko made one with a giant cute Bumblebee on it and put it on, well, duh, Bumblebee’s leg. He was later seen with a face full of pride and the magnet on his chest plate. 

Miko and Raf spent the night at Jacks house and Miko brought all her magnet gear. They took a sick day and spent all their time making magnets. They went to the base that weekend with these big heavy backpacks that were obviously filled with magnets. Every member of team Prime that knew about the magnet stuff pretended to be very busy and distracted that day.

Miko made a giant magnet that had a blushing Shrek on it and stuck it to Ratchet’s foot. He hasn’t noticed yet and she got over 1000 points for it.

Raf was placed on Ratchets shoulder at one point or another, and this absolute mad lad manages to stick a bright pink one with a flower on it right on the side of Ratchet’s head where he cant see or feel it. But of course all the other bots could see it clear as day and never said anything. Raf got 5000 points for getting a girly magnet on Ratchet’s head.

Arcee was the hardest to sneak up on, absolutely nobody could get a magnet on her. She was worth 6000 points because of the difficulty. At first she didn’t want one.. but then Bulkhead, and Bumblebee were gushing about how cute and creative the magnets were and how much they loved them. Arcee got a bit jealous, now she wants a pretty Miko magnet too..

But she cant just like, ask for one. So one day she pretended to be exhausted all day and constantly distracted and working on stuff. But as soon as a magnet mysteriously appeared on her ankle she suddenly had all the energy in the world and had a particular prep in her step. She now pretends to be tired when ever she wants another magnet.

Jack somehow managed to sneak a laugh/crying emoji magnet on the back of Smokescreens head. He still hasn’t noticed this particular magnet and keeps wondering why everyone keeps laughing literally behind his back.

When Wheeljack was around, Miko tried to sneak a magnet on him while he was sitting down with Bulkhead. But there’s no sneaking up on Jackie, so he instantly noticed her and was like, “The frag you doin??” And Bulkhead just whispered, “Duuuude you’re not supposed to notice.” Wheeljack kept the magnet because it said “foxy grandpa” on it, he doesn’t know what it means but he thought it sounded funny.

When Ratchet finally noticed the like, almost 10 magnets on his legs he was annoyed at first......

..But they’re so cute, and Miko worked so hard on them and they have little faces on them.. And it just.. It makes Miko so darn happy and giggly when she sees he still hasn’t noticed them yet. So he pretends to be the most oblivious of them all, letting the kids stick tons of magnets to him.

He gets to about 40 magnets before Optimus kind’a nudges him and goes, “I can no longer tell if you are actually oblivious to all the magnets, my friend.” And Ratchet just goes, “Don’t tell the kids I know, I don’t want to spoil their fun.” Optimus just nods and says, “Of course, would you do the same for me? I do not wish to spoil their game, I am still worth very many points.”

It genuinely took Ratchet forever to notice the pink flower magnet though. He didn’t remember putting Raf on his shoulder that one time and never thought that Raf would actually do something like that. He eventually noticed it when he saw that whenever anyone looked at him their faces would just light up.

.......................He left that one there and pretended to not notice it because it made Optimus genuinely smile every, single, time, he looked at it.

One time Ratchet was called out to a mission with about 40 magnets stuck to his legs, he returned with only about 16 and had a crushed expression on his face. He was in a horrible mood after that mission, despite how well it went. Later the remaining 16 magnets disappeared too, Miko thought Ratchet had finally discovered them and just threw them out. She sheepishly went up to him and asked him if that was true.

Ratchet looked appalled and said, “Absolutely not! Why would I throw them out??” He brought his left arm down and flipped up his armored plating to reveal the 16 remaining magnets all neatly organized and stuck to the underside of the plate. “I didn’t want to lose any more of them, they wont get lost or damaged here.” Safe to say Miko didn’t think Ratchet cared and teared up a little.

At one point Miko made special jumbo magnets for each member of team prime. Optimus got a bright red one that was covered in blue glitter, it said “BOOS MAN” in big gold letters. She misspelled boss.. Arcee’s was baby blue with the word “QUEEN” poorly spelled in cursive with hot pink marker. Bumblebees was a bright yellow one with black stripes that had the word “STINGER” written on it, but you cant really tell because the words were also black. Ratchet had a white one that had an orange cross on it and had the words “Best Medic” written very carefully and neatly with black sharpie. Bulkhead’s was the biggest one, it was a bright green one that said “My Best Friend” on it. It had a tiny doodle of Miko and Bulk’s faces on it too.

Optimus smiled at his, said it was lovely and hid it some where to keep it safe, but occasionally he could be seen wearing it around the base. Same thing with Arcee, she said she loved it and wore it occasionally. Bumblebee wore his with pride on his chest plate around the base but took it off before he went on missions. Ratchet cried in private over his and hid it somewhere, occasionally on a good day the magnet could be spotted on his left chest plate. Bulkhead also cried a bit but not in private. He put it on his chest plate and said he’d treasure it forever.

Miko eventually ran out of magnets and money, so Agent Fowler came in clutch and got her like a 15 foot heavy duty magnet sheet and these mega big scissors so she could keep making them.

Ultra Magnus told Wheeljack to take the “foxy grandpa” magnet off his shoulder pad because it was “distracting”. Wheeljack looked at Ultra Magnus, then at Miko, then at Ultra Magnus. He said okay and took the magnet off his shoulder and slapped it right on his forehead.

Miko laughed so hard she nearly passed out. Ultra Magus said to take it off and Wheeljack was like “make me you coward”.

Wheeljack asked specifically for biggest, most ugly and obnoxious Magnet she had. Miko returned with a diner plate sized baked Berry Benson magnet that she didn’t have the chance to use. Wheeljack put it on his shoulder pad where it could best be seen and refused to take it off JUST to make the kids laugh and annoy Ultra Magnus.

I would keep going but honestly this post is getting too long and if I try to keep going my brain is going to melt from the cuteness.

♡(ಥ﹏ಥ)♡

[candescentclitoria]

What About You? What About Me?

Pairing: Zelda Spellman x Reader, Other Character x Reader.

Warnings: Does unrequited love count? Cause that shit hurts.

Co-Writer/Editor: @empatheticroses​

A/N: This took a long while mainly because my friend and I had classes up our asses.

You had been pining after her for years. Two, to be exact, but it felt like an eternity with how your attempts to let her know had been disregarded. Specifically, when you would do little things to help her work as the Unholy Choir’s director—bringing her cups of crisp cold water, sometimes cups of hot tea when she had a sore throat. When you would visit the Spellman residence, just to see more of her and to say ‘hi’ to the family, you would help her tidy up, make her drinks, tiny snacks; even helping to clean up after dinner. Your help didn’t go unnoticed by the other residence members, who thanked you with either a hug, specifically a Hilda hug, those were the best or a kind tone of voice. 

Whenever Zelda did notice, she would nod and gently pat you on the head. Saying a quiet ‘thank you.’ Perhaps you were petty for wanting more gratitude from the redhead.

Months go by, Zelda was with Marie now, and for a while, you thought you could handle it; and you did for the most part. You were holding it well, all the way up till Hilda and Cee’s wedding reception. After Sabrina had saved the coven from “The Uninvited,” the evening’s festivities continued. Sipping on wine, you innocently looked over, you saw Zelda and Marie kiss, after that, it was over, you had to leave. Tears in your eyes and walking, you accidentally bumped into Hilda. “Darling, what’s wrong?” The blonde asked, her hand gently grasping your forearm. You shook your head, “No, I am fine; I don’t want to ruin your night. I just have to go.” You said, not without looking away at Zelda one last time. Hilda looked at you after you turned your head to her; an understanding look from the blonde was all you needed from her before you left.

Everyone had noticed how you craved the attention and acceptance from the redhead, even her sister. When it came to it, Hilda was your shoulder to lean on when Zelda was seemingly prospering, and you were shriveling, dejection, and hurt filling your soul. When Zelda had married Faustus, you tried your best to support her. Being her friend, you felt you needed it; however, Hilda told you that feeling the way you were, betrayed and hurt, was perfectly fine. 

When Zelda had come back from her Honeymoon under the effects of the Caligari Spell, you tried your best to reach her, yet she pushed you away, saying she had always been that way. When she had the spell broken, you were right by her side, placing a hot cup of tea in front of her. You had pushed yourself to dig your happiness’ grave just to please her, your mental and emotional health pushed to the side to prioritize her’s. To say that you were breaking was an understatement. You were already far gone, broken,  yet you chose to stay, pampering Zelda as she walked off with another. Hilda held you as you sobbed that night, wailing at the heartbreak that consumed you once more. 

Your legs push you to the main foyer of Dorian’s, a quiet ‘lanuae magicae’ leaving your lips as you walk. Your surroundings turn from those of the nightclub to your bedroom; quickly, you move to gather your things, using your magic to finish quicker. Your suitcase, full of your clothes, was ready to be put in your car. Any type of electronic you own is packed separately and carefully. Your bed is stripped of its dark grey sheets and comforter, packed in another suitcase. You were doing it. You were leaving. Finally, after years of pining after Zelda, pampering her every need and want, and your suffering, you were putting yourself first. You decided then and there; you would never let yourself get hurt just to please someone ever again, mainly when they chose not to acknowledge you and your attempts to please them.

Changing your clothes, you place your dress in the suitcase with your clothes, zipping it up and teleporting it to the trunk of your car, your other bags following as well. By now, your trunk and backseat were bound to be full, perhaps even your passenger seat. Walking downstairs, you grab your spare money jar. It was meant for paying bills, but you wouldn’t need to pay them for a while, not until you settled down somewhere else. 

Ten thousand dollars in cash, you had ten thousand dollars. That itself was more than enough combined with your current amount in the bank.

With a small sigh, you turn off all the lights with a wave of your hand, and staring back into the darkness of your living room, you shut the door and leave. Your first stop was the Spellman residence. No one would be home, so it was perfect for you to get in, get out, and leave a note for Hilda. An apology. You apologized for so many things in the letter you had no clue what it was about anymore, just an apology, you supposed.

 Admitting it hadn’t been hard, but you would miss your chaotic adoptive niece, always causing something to happen in Greendale. Ambrose, still having to help her fix the mistakes. Your little, yet highly elder, nephew. His small spouts of wisdom from all his years of living.  Hilda and her kind heart, her ability to calm you down just by existing. And Zelda,  there was so much to miss about her, the snooty remarks, the ways she’d reel you in hook, line, and sinker. She was leaving you deft and dim, leaving you to crack and pour. 

The letter was addressed to Hilda, and you had hoped that she wouldn’t tell Zelda with the begging inside the note. You hoped she would tell Ambrose and Sabrina and tell them not to let Zelda know. You were moving on. That was that. 

What you hadn’t expected when you left and arrived in Scarsdale, a small quaint town outside of Greendale, was to meet a woman. A beautiful, kind, and acknowledging woman. When you had bumped into each other, her coffee spilling all over her, you repeatedly apologized, saying you’d buy her another coffee and pay for her dirty clothes to be cleaned. She nodded and let you guide her to the coffee shop, buying her a replacement drink and a pastry. And then, she asked you on a date. Her name was Edalyn, Eda for short. She was in her thirties, much younger than Zelda, and very foxy. She had bright ginger hair, wild like a lion's mane, yet well kept. Her eyes were very light brown, and in the sun, they were golden. 

Eventually, one date turned into two and two into three. Soon enough, five months of seeing each other passed, and you decide to move in together. Eda herself turned out to be a witch. 

Yes, it did remind you of Zelda, but you had Eda now. You didn’t need Zelda, and you didn’t crave her affections anymore. You desired Eda’s, and she gave it freely. Whenever you would bring her little snacks or drinks, she would kiss your cheek, take your hand and say ‘Thank you.’

When you would bring her lunch for work- dinner if she stayed later than usual- she would pull you into her lap and nuzzle into your neck, mumbling tiny ‘Thank you’s. Fixing her a bath before bed rewarded you with kisses all over your face, tiny ‘I love you’s leaving her throat. Even if you didn’t do anything for her, she would kiss you, whether it was on your cheek, neck, lips.

 This is the affection you always deserved. You reminded yourself.

 Eda fixed you, and she said that you set her as well. 

This is the affection you deserve.

 At night you would cuddle into her arms and fall asleep to the sound of her heartbeat, her chin resting on the top of your head. 

You deserve to heal.

Some days, Hilda would apparate to you, checking in on you. She would kiss your cheek and hug you, telling you that when she finished apparating, she would teleport a basket of pastries to you. She would ask you how you were doing if you had met anyone. You told her you had. You told her how happy Eda made you, how well she treated you. Hilda would smile and place her hands on top of yours, “You deserve every bit of affection she gives to you! So long as you return it!” And you did, you told her. Every time Eda would be affectionate, you would be affectionate back. A smile would cross her face, and she would tear up, “May I say something?” You’d nod. “Zelda is… she’s going nuts dear. She hasn’t heard from you, and she thinks you're just ignoring her. Just be careful alright? You know Zelda, she always does something bizarre when she needs an answer.” You had nodded and Hilda frowned slightly, “I have to go now. Sabrina and Ambrose miss you dearly; we all do. And don’t worry, we haven’t told Zelda what happened.” A small ‘thank you’ left your lips, and you smiled at Hilda. “Bring Sabrina next time, okay? Maybe Ambrose if possible.” She would nod, and then, she would be gone.

The next time she visited you, Sabrina was with her, and Eda was home. Hilda approved of Eda quickly and telling you she, as Sabrina would be right back, they disappeared and reappeared, this time there. Hilda’s warm arms welcomed you, and you teared up as you laid your head against her shoulder. Sabrina moved to wrap her arms around you, and she nuzzled into your shoulder. 

Tears freely flowed down her face, her brown eyes almost shining. “I missed you, Auntie (Y/N).” A shaky, “I missed you too, kid,” escaped your lips, and you kissed her forehead. You turned your head to look at Eda. “Eda, this is Sabrina and Hilda, Hilda, Sabrina, meet Eda.” Hilda had moved to hug her immediately, thanking her for taking care of you. Sabrina shook her head gently, little chuckles escaping her mouth.  After Hilda had finished her ‘thank you’s, she had set out to your kitchen, with yours and Eda’s permission, to cook some dinner.

Sabrina gently put her hand out, “It’s nice to meet you. Auntie (Y/N) talks about you to Aunt Hilda all the time!” Eda chuckled, moving her hand to grips Sabrina’s, “And have I made a good impression?” 

“The best.” Sabrina glanced at you. Your hands were busy making the broth for the soup. “Anyone who makes my Aunts happy has my full approval.” A smile graced Eda’s face, and she looked at you. “I make her that happy?” Sabrina Nodded. “Yeah, My other Aunt, Zelda- the one (Y/N) is in hiding from- held (Y/N)’s affection for a long time. One day she had enough and left, finally choosing her happiness and mental health over someone’s Auntie’s. My Aunt Zelda was foolish not to realize what was in front of her all this time, but it’s too late. (Y/N)’s moved on, she’s happy now, and I can’t thank you enough for helping her fix herself, Ms. Eda.” 

“Thanks, Sabrina; I’m glad I make her that happy.” Sabrina nodded and walked off to the kitchen, leaving Eda to her thoughts. She never knew how happy she made you and the fact that she knew now? She wanted to give you the best life possible, so she promised herself she would.

Eda’s eyes glanced to look at you as you worked beside Hilda. A smile was plastered on your face, and Eda couldn’t help but smile as well. She walked over behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing your cheek. She was whipped for you, no doubt. 

Another thing you hadn’t expected, after being told that Zelda had no clue you had indeed left, was for her to turn up on your doorstep. She looked paler than usual, her hair was the slightest bit frazzled, and her makeup was much more minimal than usual.

“Thank Hecate. I’ve finally found you.” Blinking rapidly, you open your mouth to speak, “How the hell? How did you find me? Who told you where I was?” Shaking her head, she steps past you into the living room. “No one, but that fact that others knew and I didn’t hurt. Let me guess, and you told Hilda, Sabrina, and Ambrose to hide it from me that you left? Am I right?” A small nod is all you can muster up, eyes glancing up into hers. “Well then, it’s time for you to come home. I’ve realized I made many mistakes when it came to you. You’ve been by my side through everything, and I want you as mine.” 

You raise your brows in shock. Is she serious?

 “You’re- You’re joking, right?” You say quietly, fists clenched at your side. “No, I’m not. I realized that I’ve been horrible to you. I didn’t even consider your feelings or your mental health; I’m sorry (Y/N).”

A raspy voice calls out to you, “(Y/N), what’s going on, babe?” 

Eda!

She rounds the corner and moves to you but stops as she lands her eyes on the redhead. “Who is this?” Closing your eyes tightly, you gently take Eda’s hand. “This is Zelda, Eda. Zelda, this is Eda, my girlfriend.” Zelda’s eyes widen, her hands raise slightly, but she puts them back at her sides. “So you’ve… you’ve taken a lover.” You nod, hand tightening on Eda’s. “Yes, I have.” 

A growl escapes Eda’s lips, and she glares at Zelda, “What the hell are you doing here? After everything you’ve done to her, you have some nerve.” Zelda throws her hands up, stepping back slightly, “Trust me, I have no harmful intentions; I just wish to talk to (Y/N).” You place your hand on Eda's shoulder, shaking your head when she looks at you. Now wasn’t the time for Eda to lash out. Truthfully, Eda always had a temper, letting her anger sometimes get the best of her. She was never abusive in any way, instead she tended just to cry or punch a pillow. Her rage was never brought out on you. 

“What do you want, Zelda? Why’d you come looking for me?” Zelda gently grabs your hand and moves with you to sit down on the couch. “As I said earlier, I’ve realized how I’ve made you feel. Forgotten, unloved, disregarded: like you don’t matter, but you do, I promise. It took me a while to realize that I’m sorry (Y/N). Please, come back with me, give me another chance, and I promise I will make it up to you. I miss you, darling” A scoff leaves your throat, anger slowly taking over your calm mood.

“You’re joking, right? You’ve got to be. Zelda, why do you think I left? I left because you pushed me to the side and treated me like I didn’t matter. You don’t get to make me feel like shit; you don’t get to parade around my house and throw a pity party for yourself. You had every chance to miss me before, miss me when I was at the wedding, miss me when I left early, but you chose to miss me when I moved to Scarsdale and finally found someone that cherished me! Someone that showed me the love and affection I deserved when you wouldn’t do any of that! You have no right to claim that you’re upset when you didn’t notice how much I craved your attention; how much I cried over you! When you married Faustus, when you fell in love with Marie, Hilda held me while I cried because I felt like you didn’t love me. Hilda held me every time I was hurting because of you- and I chose to stay because even though I was in so much emotional pain, I cared about you more than I cared about myself!” Tears come to Zelda’s eyes; her hands clench against her chest. 

“So if anything, fuck you, Zelda Spellman, fuck you for thinking you get to march into my life and confess your love. Go back to Marie; maybe she’ll kiss your ass and make love to you.”

Small sobs fall from Zelda’s lips, her form starts to shake, and she wraps her arms around herself. Your eyes widen, and you glance at Eda. “Marie is gone (Y/N).” You look at the broken ginger before you, sighing, “I’m sorry, but this allows you to grow yourself.” You say, looking at her with compassion despite the storm of anger raging inside you. Zelda looks at you and nods timidly, “I...I will let myself out. I hope you have a good life here, thrive the way you deserve, darling.” Zelda says before walking towards the door, and then she leaves. Eda’s hands gently land on your shoulder and you move your hand on top of hers, “It’s over (Y/N), you don’t have to worry about her hurting you like that anymore.” A nod is all you can muster and you turn around, placing your head against Eda’s chest. Small sobs leave your throat, hands gently holding Eda close by her waist.  That was it; you had finally put your foot down, finalizing the burned bridges between you and Zelda- and as much as it hurt, you felt better than before.

[bloopme911]

Random WandaVision Thoughts

Thoughts about WandaVision I cannot get out of my head, so here you go.

SPOILERS AHEAD. BLOOP. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. 

1. Wanda and Vision are connected by the stone. 

I went back and watched AOU and pretty much from the moment Vision is on screen, the connection between him and Wanda is obvious. Her reaction to him in particular struck me. She exhaled like she was drawn to him--to the stone. She also said she saw inside his mind before he was brought to life. 

I believe they’re meant to be together, not only b/c of their chemistry together and compassion for one another, but also b/c of that mind stone. It gave him life and awakened her latent powers. It drew them to one another the moment they met. Vision himself even said in Civil War that he didn’t fully understand the stone, or how it works exactly; it’s a mystery to him. That stone is POWERFUL. It “speaks” to Vision, it “has a mind of it’s own”, it’s not a passive player, IMO. 

...more after the kr...

2. Wanda can channel the powers of ALL of the stones in her chaos magic.

This I can’t claim credit for, but I believe it. I saw a theory on ScreenCrush (great YT channel for dummies like me to break things down) that Wanda can not only bend reality to her will, she can channel pretty much all the powers of the five stones. She demonstrates this in many ways -- bringing the butterflies and stork to life, rewinding the turkey until it turned into eggs, planting visions into Avengers heads, controlling the minds of the Sokovian citizens so they would evacuate the city in AOU, etc, etc, etc. 

ScreenCrush theorizes that the stones are all connected, having sprung from the same fabric of the universe, their powers work alone but also together. Inside Wanda. If she concentrates, if she wills it, she can be just as powerful as Thanos was with that Infinity Gauntlet. So yeah, I believe she can trap a whole town under a spell and give Dr. Strange a run for his money across the multiverse, point blank periodt. 

And if she can do that, could she not remake Vision? Pull his atoms back together, reform him, especially if she (somehow) got ahold of the copy Shuri made of his neural network? Why wouldn’t she bring Pietro back to life? I’m not sure...perhaps it could be that it’s simply too painful. Or perhaps she just doesn’t want to put her brother under a spell in a dream world. Vision is Vision, he can handle this, and she may not feel as bad resetting him when he gets too suspicious she might if she had to do that to her brother. I don’t know...time will tell, hopefully.

3. Wanda was an Avenger, training under Black Widow. She got rid of her accent intentionally. 

I see people referencing her “suddenly disappearing” accent a lot. I think she (the character) did this on purpose. In the opening of Civil War, when her accent was first starting to fade, she was being taught to spy by Black Widow and Sam and the gang. It stands to reason that accents and speaking with what TV folks used to call a “non regional diction” or any accent she pleases would be part of that training. 

Since this WandaVision is based on a sitcom reality, if you know how painstakingly they recreated these sitcom eras, plot tropes and all, then you’ll find that not only is Vision’s behavior based on the popular ‘TV Dads’ of each era (Dick Van Dyke, Mike Brady, Ricky Ricardo, etc) but Wanda was also mimicking the way TV wives speak and act during each era. Perfect 50s diction for Ep 1, slightly more relaxed like a Mary Tyler Moore in Ep 2, a bit more broad and (with a lot more physical comedy in her face, she’s so adorable) for the 70s.....the MCU didn’t forget about Wanda’s accent and Elizabeth Olsen isn’t being lazy.

Wanda deliberately got rid of her accent while she was a spy, and she slipped into it when she was thinking of her brother, her home, her childhood lullaby. 

4. “Geraldine” a.k.a. Monica was casing Wanda’s house. 

I noticed that from the moment Monica set foot inside, she covered a lot of ground. She found little ways to check that house out because she’s a trained agent and I think even though she was NAILING the part of the stereotypical 70′s black “foxy” nosy neighbor, she was 100% on a mission that whole time. She went in to get Wanda out, but the pregnancy obviously derailed that. I think she was waiting for an opportunity to gage when she could jog Wanda’s memory and probably also waiting to make sure Wanda would be at home alone before she stopped by. 

She has “no home” in the town, Agnes said, but she is a SWORD trained agent, so she knew how to survive until she could make her move. Unfortunately, Wanda was not having it. She does not want to be saved. “Geraldine”/Monica also said during her crazy work story that she keeps her cool under pressure, which she did during that BONKERS delivery. She even gave Wanda the coaching she needed to get through it despite the house going all Poltergeist around her. 

I only wish that when Wanda was questioning her, she would have been like “I’m Monica Rambeau, I’m here to rescue you.”

5. The townspeople have known all along about both Wanda and Vision’s powers, but they’re only terrified of Wanda. 

Vision used his powers in front of people from day one. Helping Mr. Hart at dinner (notice how IMMEDIATELY after Vision saved him, they left in a hurry? They were terrified. They went there to act out a dinner, not for Mrs. Hart to watch her husband almost die without being able to break character to save him, and Mrs. Hart knew it was Wanda who could make it stop). Speed computing at the office. Obviously the magic show kinda sort doesn’t count but does b/c come on mirrors don’t work like that. Getting the doctor, etc. No, I think the townspeople know Wanda and Vision are Avengers, but there is nothing they can do about it because they are under a spell and they must carry out the FOR THE CHILDREN evil plot. I’ll bet word spread about Wanda choking Mr. Hard, so they def don’t want to piss off Wanda, nor bring the wrath of the nefarious entity controlling them all (most signs point to Mephisto). 

6. Agnes’ witch costume reminds me that there are some tropes in media where evil witches are the wives of the devil (or sell their souls/enter a pact). 

Obviously the Mephisto Comic story line sets this up, but I just love the way they executed it in the show, using the spouse that never appears on screen as a big fat clue.

Agnes may not be evil but she def wants Wanda to have children for her devil husband and she def does not want “Geraldine” disrupting that. Everyone else just seems straight up afraid of Wanda but Agnes knows who is really pulling the strings here. Agnes is terrified of the Big Bad, whereas the townsfolk fear Wanda b/c they know what she’s capable of. They may even believe Wanda is the one controlling them all--and she is--but Agnes knows who’s manipulating Wanda--Ralph, or Mephisto to us.

7. I get the strange impression that the sitcom credits start because Wanda is waking up for the day, and end because for her the day is over... 

...and she’s done concentrating so hard on the sitcom spell. It’s sleep time for REAL-real. If she’s using magic to keep this stage play going constantly, then it stands to reason she will tire even though she’s pretending to live in sitcom world where time works totally differently. I believe the commercials are her dreams, sending her subconscious messages about her past traumas. I also believe dreams could be the way Mephisto called out to her--subconsciously drawing her to Westview.

Fun fact: TV way back in the day used to turn off at a certain time at night. 11pm or midnight, I can’t remember, but the networks STOPPED BROADCASTING at a certain time and there was no such things as 24-hour TV until like the late 80s. 

There are waaaaaaaay more thoughts banging around in my head but this post is pretty long so until the next time I’m wide awake at 4am with the 70′s WandaVision theme song stuck in my head...

[knox-knocks]

This is my gift to @yeahboiislay​ / @bhenchod​ for the @aftgexchange ! I really hope you enjoy, i had so much fun with the prompts you gave!

Having the evening to themselves, Matt and Neil plan an awesome Boys' Night that consists of movies, a surplus amount of food, and maybe a bit too much alcohol. Everything starts of great, but when they wake up the next morning with no memories, no money, and no eyebrows, they try to retrace their steps to figure out what the hell happened last night and run into a few problems. 

~ ~

“Neeeeeeeiiiiiiil," Matt sings as he sails through the door to the suite, arms laden with a mountain of food. He grins at Neil and drops the snacks – seven different boxes of candy, two large bags of M&Ms, a six pack of soda, a bowl of popcorn, and a rather large bottle of rum – onto the table where they skitter to the sides and would have fallen if Neil hadn’t caught them in time. “Are you ready?”

Neil bounces around his friend, cradling one of the bags of M&Ms to his chest. He raises it above his head in triumphant glory at not letting it fall to the floor and meets Matt’s full-wattage smile with one of his own. Despite his hesitation at the amount of junk food and alcohol Matt had proposed for tonight, he could feel a current of excitement coursing through him. “I’m ready,” he declares.

“Do you mind?”

Neil’s attention is pulled to the couch, where an irate Aaron is stationed. He looks a little rumbled with his glasses askew on his nose and at least three different textbooks spread out on the coffee table in front of him. He frowns at the pair. “Not that I care, but what are you two yahoos up to anyway?”

“Boys’ night!” Matt and Neil answer in unison. They share an uncoordinated fist bump, difficult because Matt is a foot taller and Neil is still holding the bag of M&Ms over his head.

“Dan and the girls are doing their own thing and Nicky has a skype date with Erik,” Matt explains.

“And Andrew and Kevin are in Michigan trying to recruit more players for next year,” Neil adds, eyeing the precariously leaning tower of food behind Matt.

“You can join us if you’d like,” Matt says before Neil can protest. Neil shoots him a look just as the pile of snacks topples over and Matt dives for it, successfully avoiding Neil’s scornful expression.

“No thanks,” Aaron says. He regards the snacks and Matt trying to push them back into order with more than a little disdain. “I’ll just go to Katelyn’s. Don’t make too much of a mess, and have fun I guess.”

The bottle of rum rolls past Neil’s feet in a haphazard escape, and Matt darts after it on his hands and knees.

“We’re just gonna watch some movies and eat junk food,” Neil says. “How big of a mess can we make?”

_ _

Neil wakes some indeterminable time later with the worst headache he’s ever had in his entire life. His first thought as he comes slowly back to awareness is

ow, fuck

, and the second is

why is the ceiling so close to my face?

He blinks blearily at the too-close ceiling and wills the pain throbbing in his temples to go away. When his vision clears and Neil feels like he can move without keeling over, he realizes that’s he’s not staring at the ceiling at all, but at the underside of the coffee table in Matt’s suite.

Neil groans, clutching his head, and wiggles out from under the table. One of his shoes is missing, but it’s probably the least of Neil’s problems, because the room is an utter disaster.

It looks like a warzone, popcorn strewn across the room and smashed into the carpet, and a section near the television has a suspicious and atrociously orange stain that is half-heartedly covered by a couch cushion that does not belong to anyone Neil knows. Neil gapes at the carnage for one, stunned second and fumbles for the TV remote to turn it off, powering it down in the middle of an informercial about a magic towel that can clean any mess that inexplicably seems to be playing on repeat.

Silence rings in Neil’s ears, blotted out only by the blood rushing to his head. He briefly wonders what the hell happened last night, but trying to think back makes his head hurt worse, so he decides to go seek out Matt. Neil doubts Matt is in any better shape that Neil is, but maybe he remembers a bit of what they did to get in this situation.

The person he finds passed out in the kitchen is not Matt at all. For one, they are about six inches too short and their skin is three shades too pale. Secondly, they are dressed in nothing but shorts and the grinning head of Palmetto’s mascot, Foxy Roxy. Neil blinks in surprise at the half-naked stranger slumped on the floor before making sure they’re still breathing. When Neil is satisfied that he didn’t accidentally stumble across a body, he continues his search for Matt.

Neil finds him face-down on the floor behind the couch, snoring soundly and cradling a bottle of vodka, dyed an electric shade of orange. That, Neil supposes, would explain the stain by the TV. At least Matt is mostly dressed.

“Matt,” Neil hisses and nudges him lightly in the ribs. When he doesn’t stir, he kicks him a little harder. “Wake up,”

“Allison leave those gnomes alone,” Matt mutters incoherently. He turns over in his sleep and the vodka rolls away from him. Arms now empty, Matt wraps his arms around himself and hugs his chest. Neil isn’t paying attention to any of that though, his eyes are glued to Matt’s face, still slack with sleep.

Mostly, he looks normal. Except he doesn’t have any eyebrows, and what looks to be a single fake mustache from Party City is clinging for dear life where his left brow should be.

Neil presses a hand to his mouth, not sure whether the look on his face is one of horror and shock, or of laughter. He kicks Matt again.

“Ow, fuck,” Matt groans and opens his eyes. He says nothing at first, squinting up at Neil with a look that says he has the worst hangover ever. Then his eyes widen and his mouth falls open into a comical little o.

“Neil,” he says, hushed. “Your face.”

Neil’s hands fly to his face, scared of what he might find, but instead of the eyebrow’s he expects, his fingers meet smooth, freshly shaved skin.

“No,” he whispers.

Matt cackles, still staring at the unfortunate lack of facial hair on Neil’s face.

“Don’t laugh,” gripes Neil, covering the place where his eyebrows used to be with his hands. “Yours are gone too.”

The humor drains out of Matt’s face and he gasps, clutching his forehead. His clumsy hands dislodge the fake mustache and he watches it flutter to the floor with something like horror on his face. “No,” he mourns, picking it up and cradling it in his hands.

“What the hell happened?” Neil demands.

Matt is still staring at the faux-facial hair, mouth opening and closing in shock. Neil grabs his face and forces him to focus. “Matty,” he says, “we’re in deep shit.”

“The last thing I remember is walking to the liquor store for more alcohol,” Matt says, coming back to his senses. “This was before…” Matt spots the guy passed out in the kitchen. His eyebrows would have furrowed in confusion if he still had any. “That,” he says. “But after we had a popcorn fight.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Neil admits. “Hang on, where’s my phone?”

“Why?” Matt asks. “You never use your phone.”

“Unless I’m drunk.” Neil ducks his head under the couch, looking for anything that looks vaguely like his outdated cellphone. He only finds more popcorn. He gives up his search when he swipes his hand along the kitchen counter and it comes away sticky.

“Maybe you left it outside?” Matt suggests. “I think you tried to call Andrew right before we came back in.”

“Great,” Neil says. He makes for the door, but Matt’s arm shooting out in front of him stop him in his tracks.

“We can’t go out like this,” he says, motioning to his face. He casts his gaze around the destruction in the room and his eyes light up when they fall on the coffee table. He lunges, knocking various bottles of soda and a sock away in his haste to get whatever it is he’s scrounging for.

He holds it up for Neil to inspect. It’s the remaining fake mustaches, tucked safely inside a plastic packet that is indeed from Party City.

“This could work?” he says. He glances from the mustaches to Neil, considering. He hold it up to Neil’s face. “I think this might actually be your shade.”

“I’m not putting that on my face,” Neil says, nonplussed and at awe that Matt would suggest such a thing.

“Go and be eyebrow-less then,” Matt sniffs. “Release your inhibitions.”

Scowling, Neil snatches the mustaches from his hands and fishes out them out. He shakes them out on to his hand. Two fall out, only enough for one.

There’s a beat of silence. Matt and Neil look at each other, and then at the fake mustaches.

“You can – ” Neil starts but Matt interrupts.

“No, no. You take them, buddy,” he says tearfully. He takes the mustaches from Neil and peels the paper off the sticky backing and carefully presses each one into their proper places.

They stare at each other for a long moment; Matt, eyebrow-less. Neil, clinging onto the last vestiges of his dignity. Matt is the one to break the silence.

“Neil,” he says, “you’re going to need to put your shoes on.”

After Neil locates his other shoe and he and Matt leave to find Neil’s phone, their search is interrupted by a large man angrily shouting in their direction. He storms over, red-faced and spitting out a stream of explicatives that would have any southerner clutching their pearls.

“Is he talking to us?” Matt asks. He’s still quite hungover; a pair of sunglasses shades his eyes from the afternoon sun and he wipes away the damp sheen of sweat clinging to his forehead with the back of his hand.

Neil, equally as hungover, squints at the man approaching. Upon further inspection, Neil recognizes him as the pitcher from Palmetto’s baseball team, Ricky Mercado. As far as Neil knows, they have never interacted.

“Nah,” he says. “He must be after someone else.”

“Neil Josten!” Ricky screams and too late Neil notices that he and Matt are the only other people in sight.

“Oh shit,” Neil says.

“What did you do?” Matt whispers, voice pitched furiously low.

“You better watch it, Josten,” Ricky says, close enough that Neil can see how truly mad he is. He reminds Neil of a bull, nostrils flaring, eyes wide enough to see the ring of white around the iris. Ready to charge. “I’ll fuck you up.”

Neil’s eyes narrow. Ricky is a lot taller than Neil and sure, he’s muscular, but Neil has survived all attempts on his life thus far in his twenty-year old life and he is not about to get taken out by some dumb baseball player who isn’t good enough to play the most important sport in the world, exy.

Slowed by the hangover, his brain doesn’t catch up to his mouth before he shoots back, “I’d like to see you try.”

Ricky seethes, and for a moment he does look like he’s about to charge. Neil braces himself but Matt scoops him up and throws him over his shoulder before Ricky can take even a step closer.

“No he would not!” says Matt over his shoulder as he books it back to the safety of Fox Tower.

Or, it would be safety if Ricky Mercado wasn’t a baseball player, and therefore didn’t have access to the building Matt was currently seeking for refuge. He stayed on their tail, shouting, gesticulating wildly, and occasionally throwing in some uncreative death threats. Neil has heard better and more convincing.

Actually, Neil thought Ricky might be acting out whatever Neil had done to piss him off, but Neil was either too hungover or Ricky too bad an actor for him to really understand what had happened.

They make it back in the building and up the stairs still intact, and soon enough they return to Matt’s suite. The mess is still there, the half-dressed mascot is not, and a new figure stands in the kitchen, surveying the damage. There’s a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and he looks rumpled in the way that spending a few hours on a plane would do to a person. He turns around, face unimpressed and arms folded across his chest.

“Andrew,” Neil says the same moment Matt sags with relief and whispers, “thank God.”

“Boyd,” Andrew acknowledges him. “Why are you carrying Neil over your shoulder?”

“Your boyfriend.” Matt jostles Neil as he says this and Neil wiggles until Matt lets him down. “Almost got us killed. He pissed off one of the baseball players and now he’s hunting us down. Please save us.”

As if on cue, there’s a loud banging on the door and Neil thanks whatever deity above that Matt had thought to lock the door. The person on the other side yells in frustration and begins to slam against the door. Neil is starting to think Andrew had a point when he said Neil has a way of making people want to kill him.

“Hmm,” Andrew says noncommittally and looks around Matt to where Neil is attempting to hide behind his large body, covering his forehead so Andrew doesn’t see the fake eyebrows. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a familiar gray cell phone.

“Oh!” Matt exclaims. “Where did you find it?”

“Nicky. He said he confiscated it last night,” Andrew says, eyes never straying from Neil’s face.

“We got a little drunk last night,” Neil admits, inching toward the door. He thinks death by angry baseball player is preferable to Andrew seeing what he had done to his face.

“That explains these,” says Andrew. He tossed the phone to Neil, opened up to their thread of messages.

It starts off normal, but at around midnight, Neil sent a video of himself dancing on the coffee table while someone off-screen throws popcorn at him. It’s far from what Neil thinks a person drunkenly dancing on the table should look like. The lighting is bad and so is Neil’s dancing, arms thrown in every which way and hips doing a little too much. It appears he’s attempting the macarena with a few added steps.

The second message is from an hour later and reads, would yoi still loveme if I ddni’t have eyebrows :(

So the jig is up.

Neil cringes and drops his hands. Andrew, privileged to have eyebrows fully intact, raises them at the sight of the ginger mustaches stuck to Neil’s face, and reaches up to peel them off. Neil thinks he sees a flash of amusement in his eyes before Andrew lets the mustaches drop to the floor. Neil is too embarrassed to say anything, but Andrew doesn’t notice. He looks around the room before grabbing a disemboweled lamp and weighing it in his hand.

“Get this mess cleaned up,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

Then he leaves, and Matt and Neil stare after him.

“Is he going to – ” Matt starts but Neil interrupts.

“Not important,” he says, waving his hand to get Matt’s attention. “We need trash bags and a vacuum cleaner.”

“And the will of God,” Matt nods as he begins to pick up cans and boxes of candy from the floor.

It takes an hour, three large black trash bags, and some duct tape to get the mess cleaned up. By now Andrew has returned, and is idly watching them from his perch on the arm of the couch. He offers no help, instead he slowly and methodically eats through a pint of ice cream, digging out the chunks of chocolate to eat first. When asked, he does not explain what he did with the lamp.

“You missed a spot,” he says and points to the large orange stain on the carpet with his spoon.

Matt pushes the entertainment center three feet to the right, where it covers the majority of the orange carpet. “No we didn’t,” he replies.

When they’re finished, Matt collapses at the kitchen table over a bowl of cereal and begins to snore. Neil wanders over to Andrew, head ducked to his chest and hood pulled over his eyes. Andrew pulls the hood down, eyes trailing up to the empty spaces where Neil’s eyebrows had been just last night.

“Do you think I can draw them on?” Neil asks. He’s seen Allison touch up her eyebrows with a brow pencil, so he should be able to draw in what he was missing, right?

Andrew huffs and curls his fingers in the collar of Neil’s hoodie. “Idiot,” he says softly, and presses a kiss to Neil’s forehead. Neil melts into his embrace, relieved that the whole fiasco is finally over and he can relax in Andrew’s arms with Andrew’s lips pressed against his.

“I hope you didn’t throw those mustaches away,” Andrew says once he pulls away, and Neil laughs.

“Too late,” he says and decides that he’s never drinking that much alcohol ever again.

[kadeuxhyeonju]

Rip Out My Heart

*TW: child abuse, violence, mentions of mental abuse (with kitsune illusions), emotional abuse ~all under “keep reading”

Self-Para-- (REALLY LONG--last one for a while) 

Kadeu, Hearts Territory, Heart Side of The Joker Lee Hyeonju, Teenager, Night of Defection

Hyeonju did not look back. With his feet now standing over the invisible line that marked one faction from another, the young man’s wrist, only moments before marked with a Seven, was now emblazoned with a One. He’d done it. He’d finally summoned the courage, the audacity to walk away from Spade—from his mother. Now he walked to the end of the Joker, into Heart, stood at the edge, waiting.

“Well, look at that.” Hyeonju whipped his head toward a nearby alley. A man adorned in the most beautiful of garments stepped out into the lights given off by the nighttime businesses of Heart. Park Minjun. His father and a newly promoted Jack of Hearts. ”Our Lil Kit is growing up, defecting and making trouble. I didn’t think you’d do it.” Hyeonju prickled at the name. He didn’t like being called that. But it was his father and he respected—feared—him so he kept his voice even and controlled. “I did what I needed to do.” His father laughed at that. “Your face says otherwise, Lil Kit. Well, it doesn’t matter. You’re a Heart now. When Spade finds out you defected you won’t be welcomed back.”

Hyeonju refused to look behind him toward the dark streets of Spade. He refused to regret his choice. This was his one and only chance for freedom. He looked up at his father only to notice the stunning colors and sounds that came to life in the nighttime of Heart behind the Kitsune. He smiled, hope glittering in his eyes. “That’s okay. I don’t want to go back.” His father smiled with something akin to pride and ruffled the young man’s hair with his clawed hands—he seemed to relish showing off his foxy features; Hyeonju had no idea what he looked like without them. “That’s my Kit. Alright, follow me and we’ll make sure you rise to the top in no time.” Hyeonju’s feet carried him forward until he was swallowed by the temptations of Heart.

Hyeonju, Teenager, Heart Territory, Rank 1, End of First Year

“Is this a joke to you, Lil Shit?” Hyeonju was sprawled on the ground, his body wracked with shivers and pains too numerous to count. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent meal. He lived off the leftovers those of higher rank tossed in the trash bins or on the ground. He hadn’t eaten a human since his mother’s last meal for him in Spade before he’d promptly snuck out of the barracks and defected. His Kistune powers were nowhere to be found. The only reason he’d lasted this long without succumbing to the drugs and thievery rampant in Heart was no doubt because of his Strongarm blood. He didn’t have the species’ strength, but their endurance and hardiness seemed to be working just fine. After all, the kicks and punches his father was doling out didn’t leave him broken like he knew it would full-blooded Kitsune.

Minjun looked down on him in disgust. They were in an alleyway somewhere in the High Rankers’ district. His father, realizing that Hyeonju had failed to rise to even a Two, had hauled the teenager from where he’d found him hiding next to a trash can and given the hybrid the thrashing of his life. Word was getting around—Lee Hyeonju, Spade Deserter, had failed to rise in rank among the Hearts. Now Park Minjun, sponsor and father to the child, was suffering the consequences.

Now Hyeonju was suffering, too.

Why haven’t you risen in rank, huh? I’ve provided you every opportunity, your mother gave you the combat skills, I gave you the art of etiquette and business. All you had to do was earn some quick cash, you Lil Shit. All you needed was to follow what I taught you. And you couldn’t even do that much. You’re a failure, Hyeonju!” Hyeonju mumbled something. “What was that? Speak louder, Lil Kit. I know we didn’t teach you to mumble.”

“I said I can’t do it!” Hyeonju yelled, lifting his head from the ground to reveal the desperation and defeat in his features. His father looked at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, but it wasn’t amused, not in the slightest. He grabbed Hyeonju by the back of the neck and lifted him so they were eye to eye. “You can’t do it?” the soft voice sent a ripple of fear through the young hybrid. He knew what came from this voice, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The illusions his father created were levels beyond his own.

And they were terrifying.

The horror was inescapable so long as his father held him in place and Hyeonju was forced to endure it. By the time his father lifted the illusion, his son was a pile of fear and despair. Minjun looked down on him coldly. “You’re weak, Hyeonju. You won’t eat humans because you feel bad. You won’t steal because it’s dishonest. You won’t lie or get angry or cheat or charm or do JACK SHIT because you’re a weak lil bastard. You have some of the biggest potential given what we’ve taught you, but you can’t be bothered to use it. Let me give you a word of advice, my precious son. Kindness is weakness. Love and empathy and honor will get you killed. And even if you were to give those useless feelings of yours to another,” Minjun bent down and whispered, “someone like you will never receive it. You’re unlovable, Lee Hyeonju. Your mother and I are proof of that. You’ll die here in the gutters, unloved and forgotten by the world. Gods know I certainly won’t bother to think of you.”

At that, Hyeonju lifted his head and tears streamed down his face as he realized what his father was about to do. “Wait, father, please—don’t!” But it was too late. His father’s back was towards him, polished boots striding at a smooth and steady pace away from his son and toward the bustling, clean streets of Heart. “Don’t ever contact me, Lil Jun. If you do, I’ll kill you and throw your corpse to a manabeast. Let a hunter find you in their catch’s belly. Better yet, I’ll throw you in the nearest river and watch you sink. Feed the fish. You’re more useful dead, right?” Even with those threats hanging over his head, Hyeonju tried to give chase, but the pain from the pummeling and the mental exhaustion from the torturous illusions sent the hybrid sprawling in the dirt, unseen by the world.

Hyeonju was left to stare at the rolling grey clouds, a reflection of his emotions, his life. It seemed to be a never-ending sky of grey and rain and storms that shook him until his soul was scattered petals in the wind, until those pieces landed under the privileged feet of Kadeu and were grounded unawares to the persons above. Hyeonju had given up his life in Spade—risked the wrath of his mother, the ridicule of his father. He had seen the wealth and laughter and freedom granted in Heart and thought that maybe—just maybe—he could find a place among these colorful folk with their finery and elegant airs and boastful minds. All he had found this past year was a well of lies hidden behind jeweled masks and calculated smiles and cold, assessing gazes who saw Hyeonju as a commodity rather than a living being.

He lay there for an eternity, his father’s words like a mantra seeping its way beneath his skin to wrap around his heart, stitching itself into his very essence. When he had the strength to lift himself from the ground, the Rank One trudged his way back to the dregs of Heart. There he found the half-starved populace of Low Ranker humans too weak to survive in a world full of species who surpassed them in every way. Hyeonju wasn’t far from becoming like them, weak as he was. His stomach rumbled. When was the last time he ate? He glanced at the huddled figures, paused, then shook his head and continued on. He couldn’t do it. Not even to keep himself alive. Shame rose within him. He dug through the trash bins later that night. Eating half-eaten…something, Hyeonju huddled in a corner as thunder roared overhead, alone and forgotten.

Hyeonju, 152, Heart Territory, Vega Gem Apartment, Now, Rank Ten

The lightening could be seen flashing around the edges of the black-out curtains cloaking the windows of Hyeonju’s condo. The man himself was sitting on his bed with his back against the wall. The storms seemed to be never-ending—and the memories that came with them. He wrapped the blankets around himself. Below the sheets, his hands fiddled with a dagger, old but well-cared for. His eyes remained unblinking, body shuddering at the rumble of thunder the only indication the Ten of Heart was alive—though not well.

The memories assaulted him, made his body tense as if he were reliving each moment again and again and again. All the while, Hyeonju couldn’t help but think in the back of his mind how ironic his life was. He had defected Spade to escape the pain his mother had caused, the scorn of his fellow Spades for not sharing the same pride they did. He had firmly believed that by joining Hearts, working hard, he’d achieve freedom, happiness. Hyeonju would never have to fight, never lie, never feel fear or anger if he could just make it to the top running on his pure, naive values.

What a joke. Not only had the hybrid failed to gain the freedom he so desperately sought, but he was plagued by the horrors he’d endured as a Low Ranker. He learned to beg, steal, lie, cheat, fight, kill. He made money and gained power off the backs of humans he consumed and throwing others, human and and everything in between, under the carriage.

Hyeonju had become everything he hated and more.

Hyeonju didn’t regret surviving, didn’t regret his choices because there was no point. Even if he’d been granted a second chance to make a different decision, he wasn’t sure he’d change anything because there was no guarantee he would be better off. At least in this life, he knew the hand he was dealt and could adapt as needed. Nonetheless, Hyeonju found himself haunted by faces of humans he’d beckoned to dark corners with trusting, beguiling eyes and pretty illusions only for their expressions to take on terror as he slaughtered them like cattle, consuming them with a desperation he couldn’t shake. He remembered the nights at the Red Dragon and Secret Room full of patrons seeking his physical company and all the pleasures they could afford with their bags of coins. Some were kind, most were...not. He remembers the words tossed at him for being everything he was. He can even pinpoint the exacts moments when pieces of himself he’d cherished fell off him like rusted, useless armor.

The memories, brought on by the tumultuous downpour and raging thunder, made the Ten of Heart want to scream. But he didn’t. His parents had taught him screaming was for the weak. Crying was for those who refused to do nothing to save themselves. So he held it in, though a part of him--a huge part of him--wanted nothing more than to let it all out, to have someone listen and not lift a hand in violence towards him or throw poison-laced insults his way or laugh.

He glanced at the amulet sitting on the pillow beside him. Maybe he could call for one of his friends. Max? She had no idea what he’d gone through in Hearts. Nari? She was plagued with traumas of her own. He wouldn’t dare to burden her with his. Sullivan? The man was as gentle as they came. He couldn’t bear the thought of sharing something so painful with someone so kind. Hyeonju raked his head for somebody—anybody to call, but each was met with the same thought—who would come? Who would understand? Among those who did—which would love him, despite all the terrible things he was made of?

You’re unloveable, Lee Hyeonju.

Thunder slammed against his ears, he closed his eyes. No tears threatened to spill—he’d forgotten how to do that long ago. He took the amulet from his pillow, stared at it, tossed it toward the kitchen where he heard it clatter against the floor. He pulled the blanket over his head and pulled the knife close to his chest. The storm raged on.

[fnaficsfordays]

Tell Me A Story

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4367

----------

Mina walked towards the table, a tray in her hands. She narrowed her eyes at the people already at it, dropping into her seat with a huff.

“Pizza’s looking promising today.” One of them remarked, not glancing up from the phone they held in one hand.

She snorted. “As if. They ran out of pepperoni and this was the only meat left.”

“Mate, if you’re gonna be complaining about sausage, then might as well give me it.” Another gave her a look. “Been on nothin’ but mushrooms for the past few days.”

The first did a double-take, finally glancing up from their phone with a choking sputter. “Wha- Jake- You didn’t- You what?”

Jake looked at them blankly for a second, before understanding flashed in his eyes. With a curse, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not like that, you fucker! I was talking about the pizza, not- ugh. Not shrooms. Get your head out of your ass for once.”

“Language.”

“Oh, shuddup.” Jake flicked the person next to him. “Walt, you’re a hell of a shit-talker on the shift. Don’t go there.”

“I’ll trade the sausage for mushrooms.” Mina slid over her plate with a raised eyebrow. “As long as there’s olives with it, we’re good.”

“Right on here. Take it.” Jake passed it over. “Long night?”

“...Could have been worse.” She shrugged. “Dillan was closer to losing his head than I was, though.”

A noncommittal grunt came from across the table, from the only person that hadn’t spoken yet. “Seen worse, survived worse. At least the power didn’t drop out completely.”

“But it got close.”

“Not too close.” He straightened his posture, dark elbows resting on the table. “But still, yeah. Close.”

“As long as you don’t leave us stranded, we’ll be fine and dandy.” They finally set down their phone, reaching for their own slice of pizza. “But nothing special?”

“Nothing, Stella. Just a hard shift.” Mina frowned.

A long silence fell over them for a few moments, as they gradually began to dig in. Mina inwardly shuddered as she began to eat, thoughts flickering back to their shift. Foxy had been way too close- the metal door survived him running towards the office in that attack, but still. The deep scrapes of metal against metal hadn’t helped her nerves whatsoever.

“Something popped up on your mind, Dill?” Stella’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts, looking at the guard’s thin-lipped frown. “Haven’t picked up your food.”

His eye twitched for a moment. “...Just memories.”

“Well, go on an’ spit it out, mate.” Jake leaned back in his chair, glancing at Dillan too. “C’mon. Last night couldn’t have been too bad. You’ve been here the longest. Spill it up.”

“Technically… yes.” He still stared down at his plate, before exhaling and glancing around at each of them. “...Wasn’t about last night, though. Just another story.”

“What’s it this time?” Mina brushed off the thoughts of that shift altogether, leaning forward. “You haven’t told one for weeks.”

Jake gave a small chortle. “Still can’t believe that they once gave Freddy an actual instrument to play on-”

“Well, this is much different.” Dillan interrupted, voice suddenly flat. “And this one wasn’t something I experienced in person. Scott told me about it, before he…”

“Passed. We get it.” Stella raised an eyebrow. “So… how does it begin?”

“It’s an old one, for sure.” He chuckled sourly. “Happened over a year before I came here, and it’s… a strange one. Scott was around for it of course, but… I had a bit of difficulty believing in it myself. At least for a little while.”

“Well, get going.” Walt gestured with a hand. “Did it begin with him?”

“No, actually doesn’t. Begins with the owner’s son.”

“Wha-” Jake’s eyes went wide, as did everyone else at the table. “William had a son-?”

“Apparently so.” Dillan muttered. “A lot kinder, though ‘course he got roped into the business by his dad. Was one of the first night guards for the place. Name was Michael. In fact, when he was still around, Scott said he was there to help work each new guard into the environment. Not much around comfort, but still. Kept them well alive throughout their first night- long enough for them to leave, at least. Though ‘course, some still stayed. Scott, for one, and a couple others with lives fucked up enough.”

“Language…”

Dillan scowled at Walt. “If you’re thinking about saying that every time I express how the story was, better save your breath. I ain’t planning on stopping, and I ain’t gonna think highly of your priorities if you’re still carin’ by the end.”

A cold silence dropped on them at the end of his words. “It’s one of those stories, isn’t it.”

“Should get used to it.” He glanced over at Mina with a sigh. “Wasn’t lying when I said it was different from the last.

“But anyways… Michael was always pretty sympathetic when it came ‘round to accepting those that still stayed, even after learning ‘bout the horrors going on underneath. Probably ‘cause he was just as trapped into it as they were. He’d eventually heard all the reasons, as had Scott. Nowhere else to go, desperate for the money, wanting to go out with a bang, hoping for some purpose in life… there was no reason for staying they hadn’t already gotten. And accepted. Really, lotta this stuff, like watching over the newer employees… he was going behind his father’s back to do it. Didn’t really show concern in an obvious way, but… still. Ten times better than William could ever be, to Scott.”

“Not a high bar to pass.”

“I know, right? Still,” Dillan shrugged, “The guy was good. He told about the risks as soon as he could. The ones that ended up dyin’ down the line, he made sure to not forget. Scott said he wrote down their names in a journal somewhere. But kept moving forward, ‘cause he knew that if he ended up dead then no one would still care about the new guards.

“Then, one day…” He took in a deep breath. “One day, they got another guard. His name was Vincent.”

“Sounds fancy.”

He cracked a crooked smile, the first one the whole morning. “A completely wrong assumption, for once. Vincent was… well, as Scott put it, ‘perfect for Freddy’s’. Nothing but oddities, and you could tell from the moment you saw him.

“What, some sort of physical disorder?”

“You got no idea. Let’s put it this way: If you stuck him inside a field of overgrown lavender, you’d never know he was there as long as his eyes were closed.” He shook his head slowly. “The guy’s skin was purple. Deeper color than the uniforms, and his hair too, in a raggedy ponytail. Only thing that stood out was his eyes. Completely silver. Not gray. Bright as the damn moon, and he wasn’t even blind.”

“That’s gotta be a joke, mate.” Jake gave a nervous chuckle. “It- nah. People don’t get made like that. Not even with a physical disorder.”

“I’m not the one trying to get you to believe it.” Dillan snorted. “There’s proof available later, and that’ll be enough. But still. He came into Freddy’s looking for the night shift, and when Michael and Scott were the first to greet ‘em there… well, Michael’s kindness all but vanished.”

“Oh?”

"The guy was purple, alright? Sure, he didn't do anything, but didn’t take a genius to think he could have easily meant bad news. As logical an’ level minded as Scott says he acted during the tour. He swore something was just off. Afterwards, as they were preparing for his first shift… he asked Michael if he was still going to stay and guide the dude. He said yes, though he was still suspicious. Couldn't blame him, with how scarily calm Vincent was still being. Later on, Scott left, and… Michael was left to start the shift with him.

"Don't know much about the specifics of what happened that night." Dillan admitted. "This is all coming from Scott, and he only got what Michael told him. But he did say more about his… behavior. Vincent stayed calm through the whole night, only popping in a few questions here and there. He knew a lot about the place, though. Knew about the disturbing things to the animatronics, knew it all. Even the things he didn't know… well, Michael said he acted surprised, but it didn't stay for long enough. Didn't exactly lower his suspicions."

"No kidding."

"Michael hadn't even pried into Vincent's reasons for coming, though. To no one’s surprise, the guy decided to stay on the job. But then… he told Scott something else that did surprise him.

"Michael wanted to work out a couple more shifts with the dude. Normally, he only did the very first night with the new guards, regardless of if they stayed or not. But it was clear that his suspicion was rising. The next few shifts, still the same deal. Vincent didn't try anything funny, despite still acting weird. Started warming up, in a sense. Nothing Michael wouldn't have heard before, just… well, cynical comments. Usual stuff that you find yourself muttering in this job. Even though he made it pretty clear that he wasn't fond of the dude, Vincent did nothing."

"Didn't even question his cold shoulder?"

"Absolutely nothing." He frowned. "Michael was still uncertain, but he started to relax. Only thing he was frustrated about at that point was the fact that Vincent hadn't said a thing about his past yet, and well… he was curious."

At this point, Dillan's eyes began to dim, falling silent for a moment. Mina tilted her head slightly, the pizza lying cold on her plate. All of them had seemed to have forgotten their breakfast.

"Go on, mate." Jake raised an eyebrow. "Did he end up findin' out?"

"After about a week, yeah. Michael had heard it all, after all. But still, this was… something. Scott himself only found out 'cause he was eavesdropping on them after 6 AM had hit." He exhaled slowly. "...Quite the conversation inside that office.

"Michael seemed to have just pushed the question up front. ‘No connections whatsoever, huh?’

“‘No. Have a hard time making them, given my skin.’ Still being a casual fucker in his words. ‘I thought you’d never get around to asking me.’

“‘Look, it’s just hard to tell. This pizzeria is already a mess as it is, and when someone with purple skin comes in…’

“‘Didn’t say I didn’t get it. I came here because I heard about it being a mess.’

“‘And why did you stay?’

“...Vincent didn’t seem to respond, for a moment. Scott says he couldn’t tell if it was because he was actually thinking about it himself, or if he was actually hiding something. Michael started to mention about how everyone around here had a messed-up life, let alone a life at all, but then… Vincent did say something.”

“...What was it?”

“‘I know. I was hoping to find someone not messed up.’

A long, slow silence befell the break room. Mina swallowed. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what Scott says he said.” Dillan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Michael seemed shocked too. ‘What?’

“‘I’ve dealt with a lot of shitty things in life, dude. This isn’t exactly the first. No parents, no friends, homeless for a while before finally landing a factory job. Then escaped. Got here. But there’s something you learn, in dealing with shitty things.’ Scott swore his voice was lighter than a damn cloud. ‘You seek out the best things in the worst environments.’

The thin screech of a chair scraping against the ground. “He’s not wrong,” Walt muttered, “I’ll give him that. It’s a truth like hell. You appreciate what’s good in the world the most when you can’t find it.”

“‘Hell’ is right.” His fingers clasped together, propping himself up on his elbows. “But Michael wasn’t done. Understood what he meant, but… still. ‘What’s the best thing here, then?’

“And then Vincent…” Dillan’s mouth twitched into a small smirk. “Then he said, ‘I’ll go with you.’”

“Mate, well…” Jake chuckled. “‘Least someone woulda gotten to say it. Sure seems like the truth to me.”

“Oh, it was. It most definitely was. But Michael wasn’t having it. ‘That’s somehow the worst thing you’ve said all night.’

“‘No, it’s not. I know how you’re technically not supposed to warn the night guards about what they’re getting into, let alone actually staying to make sure they don’t die. And you wanted to make sure I wasn’t any extra trouble, which is why you stayed longer. You’re by far the best thing around here.’

“‘It’s a low standard. It’s taking simple responsibility.’

“‘Still more responsibility than anyone else takes around here.’ I can just imagine his grin, even if I never heard ‘em say it. ‘I was interested in seeing if I could find someone alright in this hellhole, and I did it. I’m staying.’”

“...Wow.” Stella’s single word captured Mina’s feelings, all at once. “...He shouldn’t have stayed.”

“No, he shouldn’t have.” Dillan sighed. “But, well, Michael didn’t stop him. After that night, Michael didn’t actually tell Scott about any of it. Scott was confident they didn’t know he had been listening, so… it was clear he’d still had a hard time taking in what Vincent said.”

“What happened next?”

“Michael… still kept staying on the shift with Vincent, whenever he had it. The rest of the guards of the time didn’t notice much, but Scott…” He gave a light chuckle. “He was quite curious about why Michael was still spending so much time around him. When asked about it, Michael admitted that his suspicions were wrong, but still. Didn’t quite give a straight answer as to why.

“Months passed by, and it was the same. There weren’t any new guards, and Vincent stayed alive, of course. But still, something did change, beyond what anyone else could see. The only one that did was Scott, and as soon as he came to the conclusion… well…” A sigh. “It made sense immediately. Why he was still doing the shift with Vincent and Vincent alone, the complete lack of tension between ‘em from that day onwards… everything.”

“What?” Jake’s eyes were gleaming. “Plannin’ something? Tryna escape the pizzeria? Killin’ William?”

An amused scoff, and the shake of the head. Dillan’s eyes were glittering, a mingled smile on his lips. Joy, sorrow, bitterness, emptiness, and everything in between in the thin curve. “Love.” He murmured. “Those two guards, the oldest and the newest, fuckin’ fell in love.”

A small, dry gasp came from the table, and it took Mina a moment to realize it was herself. “...Really.”

“No. This is out of a damn fairytale.” Stella leaned back, shaking her head. “T-That’s a joke, right? This is too much. They can’t actually have-”

“All I’m telling you is what Scott told me.” Dillan raised an eyebrow. “Come on, it couldn’t have been that huge of a surprise. I’ve had my bets on a few of you doin’ something together when no one’s watching-”

Walt coughed, eyes bulging for a moment. “Excuse me?!”

Jake cackled, slapping him on the shoulder. “Take a walk, mate! It ain’t like this place was ever innocent. You think nothing’s ever gonna happen? Been here for a few months and still ya think you’re gonna make it to the other side!”

“On with the story.” Mina swallowed, ignoring the outburst. “...Were they really in love?”

“Yes.” Dillan’s smile greyed out for a split second, but he took in a deep breath. “Now, rumors started flyin’ around the rest of the guards. The way they were mainly talking to each other during breakfast, the hand-holding that barely got pushed out of sight… goddamn, Michael was lucky his father didn’t notice. Or rather, that none of the other guards told ‘em.”

“Did Scott say anything further?”

“Mmm, no. Not at the time of it, not to Michael. ‘Course, it was a dangerous relationship, but…” He trailed off slightly. The slightest grimace went through his face. “Well, they were willing to risk it. They kept each other alive through the night. But of course, things… ended up changing.

“William, as brutish as ever… decided to split up the night shift into two offices. The ones we got now.” Dillan frowned. “Scott said it was hard to gauge if it was truly because he caught some wind of what was going on between them, but… still. Or maybe trying to keep Michael from helping out other guards like usual. But either or neither way, it threw a wrench into the schedule. One guard had to be in each, and so things switched around.

“Did they still take the same shifts together?”

“Naturally. Scott said whenever he dropped by early to catch the very end of their shared shift, it was clear as day. So damn relieved to see the other still alive and in one piece, sometimes even leaving before breakfast just to have some time to themselves.” Despite the calm tone of his words, his frown stayed in place. If anything, it furthered. “A shaky system, especially for them… an’ after just a few weeks, it broke.”

Dillan’s posture had been relaxed and curved into his chair throughout most of the story, but now he hunched slightly over the table, eyes dark. He didn’t speak further for a moment, and Mina swore she could see the slightest tremble in his worn shoulders. Her stomach churned, swallowing to ask, but Walt beat her to it.

“How… badly did it go wrong?”

He gave a long, slow exhale. “What happened… was only put together from camera footage. Scott never got the chance to ask either about it. But… started out as usual. Vincent in the original office, Michael in the newer one. A long, difficult night. The animatronics darting in and out almost constantly; not a moment to breathe. Then…

“...It was silent.” His head drooped so low to the table. “Not even a chance to scream. Not a chance to call out, to make anything heard. Michael couldn’t make himself heard. It was much too quick.”

“...What?”

“A split second, a single moment looking too long at the monitor, and… one of them gouged out his chest. Left a hole. No ability to scream from the pain, just… the consciousness to feel it.” Dillan swallowed audibly, a ragged sound. “Fell to the ground. Still two hours left to go. Vincent couldn’t ever have known.”

Mina was shaking. Dillan’s stories had always been dark, as had every tale from this pizzeria. Yet this one… was different. Horribly different.

“When the shift was finally over… it was much too late. You could see Vincent call out while walking through the hall towards the office. There’s… no way he wouldn’t have known by then, but he still had to walk in… an’ see him. Didn’t need to be there to know that it was cold. Long cold.

“No expression on his face.” He whispered. “Even if the camera had a better quality, y’ just know there wouldn’t have been one. Vincent simply… picked him up, in his arms. The cameras went fuzzy for a solid moment, and by the time it came back… he was gone. All gone, nothing but the bloody stains on the tiles.

“By the time anyone else had gotten there, found out what happened through the cameras… he was nowhere to be found. Nor was Michael’s body. None of the cameras showed where he went. But… one thing was left. One thing.” Dillan took in a shuddering breath. “Know that paper that sits in the second office?”

“I… which?”

“The five words. Scribbled up near the top of the page.”

Mina gulped. “‘You know what you did’?”

He gave a solemn nod. “That was found the morning after. On the desk, next to the monitor. No cameras showed either of ‘em writing it, but… it was handwritten. In black pen. Scott hadn’t seen the handwriting of either, so it’s up to a guess. But… that paper.” Dillan’s lips pressed together tightly. “That paper refuses to leave.”

“What do you-”

“They’ve tried. We’ve tried, too. Thrown it in the trash, burnt it, shredded it- even simply folded it or flipped it over to face the blank side.” His knuckles were turning white with tension. “It doesn’t work. Does not stay away. The morning after, the night after, whenever someone comes in again… it’ll be back there, just how it looked when they first found it. A burnin’ reminder for those that know the story… and, well, now it’s a reminder for you too.

“And… that office holds somethin’ else, too. Ever since Michael’s death, that office has apparently been treated better than the first. Animatronics don’ attack as much, no matter how unstable they might be actin’. That’s why new guards get placed in there at first.” A sour laugh. “Could be a guilty change of heart. Or they just think killin’ William’s son was enough. But hellishly enough, it’s safer.”

“...Did anything happen, afterwards? What happened?”

“Vincent never returned. Vanished without a trace, and with him, Michael’s body. There’s not a single idea of where he’s gone, or if he’s even still alive and out there. Not even William could track him down. But he’s not coming back. That’s a single certainty.” His fingers slowly unclasped, settling back onto the table. “They’ve taken the best thing away.”

Mina’s mouth tasted wrong, as she swallowed back the bile rising in it. It was wrong. It was such a wrong story.

And because they all knew that, as outlandish and horrifically bizarre as it had been, there was no questioning it was true.

A shuffle finally tore her away from her mangled thoughts. Dillan was slipping out a tape from his bag with a shaky hand, pushing it so slowly forth on the table.

“If you want proof… go ahead an’ play it.” He muttered grimly. “It’s not that night. But they still existed. An old copy from Scott so he wouldn’t forget… and now, I keep it so I don’t forget.”

Stella was the first to pick it up with trembling fingers, staring at the black casing. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

His eyes creased slightly. “Probably not. But they were more than that night, and that’s what I mean. Appreciate what’s still good-” He glanced at Walt- “So you don’ lose your memory to only remembering what’s bad.”

Dillan got up from his chair, scooping up his half-eaten pizza in a hand. The others glanced around uncertainly for a moment, gazes flicking between the tape and each other.

“So… we’re playing it?” Jake’s voice was unusually subdued.

“I- Yeah. Sure.” Stella fumbled to stand up. “T-There’s a VCR somewhere in here, right?”

“Right here.” Walt held it up. She slid it in, Mina swallowing as her finger pressed down against the play button.

For a moment, nothing. Then a small, crackling sound, and the screen flickered to life. It was fuzzy, lighting sour and blurry, but she could see the area. The camera was shot up from above, in a corner. Below was a tile floor, a desk, a fan… the office. Footage of the office.

Two figures were inside. One took the swivel chair, hands gripping the monitor. A blurry frown was visible on his lips, legs crossed and tousled locks of brown hair falling across his face. That must have been Michael.

The other was walking back and forth between the doors, barely visible in the darkness. The only area she got a solid glimpse of were their eyes, flashing from the shadows every time they turned around. Clearly Vincent- and Dillan had been right. His irises were impossibly bright, glittering pinpricks of silver. “So he really did look like that.” She breathed.

“Given their story, it would have been a shitty thing to lie about.” Jake muttered darkly. “...Sure seem to be having fun.”

He was right. Vincent did occasionally step from the back, close to Michael, a grin breaking out across his face. The other glanced up from the monitor, head leaning back against his chest, frown falling away for a moment as a light smile replaced it. Mina’s chest clenched as she watched them. Perhaps they’d known the risks, but… they hadn’t really been aware of just how much would change, had they?

The video was smooth, nothing going wrong, but the longer she watched their silent laughter through the feed, shared smirks that softened so deeply… Dillan’s story jostled and jolted around in her mind. She tried to imagine Michael lying on the ground of that office, blood pooling from his chest. She tried to imagine Vincent’s gaze falling short as he called out for him, with nothing but chilly air in response. She couldn’t.

The tape ended abruptly, and she blinked. No one moved for a solid moment, still staring at the now-dark screen.

“They existed.” It was a limp statement.

“Yeah.” Walt murmured. “They were here.”

A broken, hollow laugh came from Jake. “I guess the lesson is to not fall in love in Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria?”

“As if.” Stella slid out the tape, staring at it in her hands. Her eyes were rimmed with a slight red. “There’s no lesson. Just a story that ended when it shouldn’t have.”

They slowly got up, one by one. Dillan said nothing as he walked back in, taking back the tape and putting it in his bag. As they moved to throw away their abandoned plates, Stella’s words rolled over in Mina’s head, blood rushing through her ears.

That’s all we are, isn’t it? She swallowed, watching the plate drop into the trash can. Just stories dutifully meeting their ends, even if we don’t have to.

Each of them that currently worked on the night shift did little to truly preserve their own life. If they had goals, they would’ve never considered trying their luck here. They had no real will to live.

Learning about those that did, however…

[typicallylatetothefandom]

Five Nights At Freddy's: Fazbear Frights [Hocus Pocus]

(SCOTT CAWTHON DID NOT MAKE THIS STORY: THIS IS MY STORY)

Anna Vincent. That was the name of a high school girl. She was pale and thin, her dirty blonde hair was usually in a ponytail, and she had vivid blue eyes- not to mention that her outfits usually are comprised of a hoodie, sweatpants, and simple sneakers. Nothing special, but she was never the type of person to really want to stand out- mainly due to her hobby. Specifically her hobby of drawing and designing animatronics for possible pizzeria places and other children's establishments since she wants to be an Imagineer when she gets older, and the reason for this is all due to her father. Her father was a kind soul- albeit a little neglectful, although she can't blame him since he has to run one of the many Freddy Fazbear's in that the United States, and his also being one of the most popular by being the only pizzeria to have, as he puts it, 'special guest characters', where an animatronic that has never been seen before gets put into their own stage in a separate room of the pizzeria- however Anna doesn't remember any of the special guests. Even though when she was little she went to Freddy's a lot, once she got older, her father didn't allow her to. She thinks that it was shortly after she had made her first animatronic ever. She doesn't remember what the animatronic looked like, but she remember the name of it. Her name was Catherine, and that's sadly all she could remember, which made her a bit upset. She remembered how she showed her dad, he grabbed it and said he loved it, and never gave the picture back to her. That day, when she was walking back from school- she decided to go and ask her father

Soon enough, she walked into her house with a light slam of the squeaky door, and she sees her father, dark brown hair and vivid blue eyes like her own, dressed up for something as he had just finished a phone call

"Hey dad" Anna said "I have a small question for you"

Her father turned to her and gave her a smile

"Of course princess, what is it?"

Anna cringed a little. She didn't like when her dad would call her that

"I was just wondering if you remembered my first animatronic I ever designed"

Her dad put a finger and thumb under his chin as he thought for a moment before he sighed

"Sadly no, I'm sorry. But I'm also in a hurry! Someone wants to sell me some new animatronics, but I need to see them all, but he's in another state. I'll be gone for a couple of days at most, and I did try asking him to bring them here, but he's not that reasonable. You know the rules. No staying out after dark, there's some money in case you wanna go to the store to get yourself anything and-"

"Yeah dad, I know" Anna interrupted, still a bit upset that she yet again had to be home alone- but was basically used to it by now

"Good. Thank you for understanding" Her father said, patting her on the head a bit as he walked to the door "I love you" he said

"Love you too, dad" Anna mumbled, crossing her arms a bit as her father left. She was now by herself in the house- no one to supervise her, but instead of doing something any normal kid would do at her age- sneak some alcohol drinking in, stay up all night, and just overall break the normal house rules, Anna wanted to know where the picture was. She looked around for what seemed like days, even if it was just a simple hour or two, for the picture of Catherine. She didn't know why, but she needed to see the picture. It was special to her. But after searching in every room in the house, even her father's workspace that usually had things lost in it, it wasn't there. Not anywhere in the house. Then she thinks about that one certain day, and she realizes that she wasn't at home when she showed the drawing: She was at Freddy's. She gave the drawing to him at Freddy's. How she didn't remember that fact was unknown, but she realizes that she needed to go to her dad's pizzeria in order to find the picture. This itch to find this picture became a never ending rash- but she didn't know why. All she knew is that she NEEDED to find it, and since her dad said it would be a couple of days until he got back, it would be find. She subconsciously misses that place, so it wouldn't be wrong to take her time a bit. She quickly found the keys to Freddy's since her dad left the keys at the house before getting on her bike, putting the keys in her hoodie pocket, and biking towards her location. She knew the route by heart, so it didn't take long for her to get to Freddy's.

Once she got there, she looked at the pizzeria. She took a second to take in the design of the place. The colorful sign that read 'Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria', the yellow and red checkboard line going around the whole building. It looked like just how she remembered it as a little kid, but it was almost.... sinister looking due to the moonlight shining on it. Anna took a deep breath as she stepped inside with a use of the keys. The welcoming sight wasn't interesting from what she could see. Just a cardboard welcome sign of a cartoon Freddy and the cashier for people getting it- the entrance was nothing more then a colorful curtain- but then Anna had realized something. She forgot to bring a flashlight with her. Kind of panicking, she looks around the welcoming area, and strangely enough finds a flashlight underneath the cashier's table. She turned it on, and it thankfully worked. She did question why a flashlight would be here- but then sums it up to in case a blackout were to happen. Here then came the moment of truth.... She turned the light towards the colorful curtain and starts to get nervous. She doesn't know what lies beyond the curtain, but at the same time- she does. It's just been so long, she can't seem to remember the details of the place, as if someone locked away the memories and threw away the key and she was trying to find it. She sighs as she quickly closes her eyes as she runs threw the curtains, tightly holding the flashlight. She nervous opens her eyes and moves around, shining the flashlight at different parts of the area. All of the memories seemingly start to rush back into her head. She remembers wearing the party hats that were on the empty tables, she moves the light to see many arcade machines she played, and then.... She moves her vision towards them. The animatronics on stage. Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica. Although their designs are rather bland in her eyes, she can't deny she used to love them. They did look kind of creepy now since they were off and not singing or talking, but she still remembered how she would sing along to the songs. Anna was unknowingly humming one of the many songs they used to sing to everyone in the restaurant as she continued to walk and look around. She found Foxy in his Pirate's Cove, and although she did enjoy him, he was also kind of creepy in the dark like this. But she knew they wouldn't do anything. They can't get off stage and they're robots, but she did have to be quick. It may have been night time, but she didn't have any sort of clock with her, meaning she didn't know the time, and if another employee found her, she would be in a lot of trouble. She continues to look around and then finds an 'Employees Only', but it didn't look like a backstage door. Instead, it looked almost welcoming, which is her dad's entire thing- to be welcoming. She found it.

She started to go over to the door, but she passed a sign in front of a doorway, and she stopped. She walked back a bit and shined the light over the sign. It was a rather normal looking sign that looked a bit generic except for the cartoony esc font that read

Special Guest Room! The Special Guest Of The Week: Catherine The Cat

Anna felt like she had the read the name a thousand times. Catherine. That was the same name as HER animatronic. The very first one. She couldn't stop herself from investigating, and went into the party room. She looked around, and although the room wasn't as big as the main room, it wasn't the smallest room here. She looked at the very back of the room, and saw a medium stage with an red curtain closed in front of it, making whatever was in the other side impossible to see. She carefully went close to the curtain. She was practically shaking with anticipation. Was this really the one? The animatronic she drew all those years ago? With one very shaky breath, she quickly opened the curtains of the stage and she couldn't believe her eyes

There, standing on stage, was a feminine cat looking animatronic. It's almost clean fur was a dark indigo, which contrasted the pale orange it's snout and stomach were, as well as some highlights on it's ears. It's half closed eyelids were a dark magenta whist it's eyes were a neon green. It wore a candy shaped bowtie- lavender in color as well as a purple vest with lavender heart shaped buttons on it, the vest even having a bit of the upside down v attachment. The tips of its five fingers on each hands were the same color as it's eyelids and even fake plastic lipstick it had on it's fake lips. Finally, to top off the entire design, it wore a purple top hat with a lavender strip on it- complete with holding a long purple wand with both of the end tip being white. The design..... Was Anna's. The memory of the crudely crayon drawn animatronic was in her head, and now it was real and right in front of her. She couldn't believe it. Did her father make this? Did someone else make this? She was happy, but also very much confused about the whole thing. She didn't get why her father didn't show her that he had made Catherine real. Maybe he just forgot?

Suddenly, she heard a cranking noise, causing her to yelp and fall backwards, dropping the flashlight as it continued to shine on Catherine- who was moving. Moving. Why was it moving!? Anna got up as she heard the robot speak

"Hi there! My name is Catherine! I'm a magical cat! What's your name?" The robot asked as she bowed a bit a stared endlessly at Anna

"A-Anna...." She responded, scared

The cat animatronic giggled a bit with a faint metalic noise in her voice "Anna's a nice name"

"Huh? Wait, y-you can, uh, talk to me?" Anna questioned

"Of course I can! It's how I was designed!" Catherine responded, continuing to move with a bit of rust in her movement

Anna didn't know how this was happening, IF it was happening at all. The other animatronics weren't moving, so why was she?

"U-Um, can you tell me you created you....?" Anna decided to ask

"Hmm.... Sorry deary, I don't think I can!" Catherine answered

"Why not?" Anna grabbed her flashlight as she asked the following question

"Because he told me not to" Catherine said as she put one of her fingers over her mouth in a shushing motion

"Well, I designed you technically. I-I made you when I was, like, six" Anna didn't understand why she was talking to Catherine. She was shaking in fear- why wasn't she running? She could've ran. She should've ran. And yet she didn't- instead talking to her like she was an old friend. Did she really think that? WAS Catherine a friend to her? Imaginary? Was she sleeping? She didn't know- but she continued to talk to her. Maybe she could understand why she was talking like she had human thought

"Oh really? Well, isn't that just cute!" Catherine said, waving her wand around. Anna noticed that Catherine's legs never moved when she did move, meaning she probably couldn't get off of the stage- which did sooth Anna's worried feelings a bit

"Y-Yeah, I guess..... How come you can speak to me like this?" Anna asked, wanting more answers

"That's something I can't answer" Catherine answered

"Dammit..." Anna muttered "Look, I'll, uh, be right back Just give me five minutes, I just need to check something" She remembered that her mission was to find the drawing .She did lie about being back in five minutes- she was honestly terrified. She didn't want to speak with her any longer

"Alright!" Catherine said as she turned off, going back into her original pose

Anna quickly left as she went over to the welcoming door and opened it with her keys. She walked in and closed the door behind her as she looked around for a light switch, luckily finding one and switching the dim light on as she turned her flashlight off. The room- like her dad's house work room, was cluttered with papers and machinery such as printers and fax machines, but the main thing that caught her attention were blueprints tacked onto a board. Upon close inspection, the blueprints were for the animatronics in the building- specifically upgrades for them. She looked through the blueprints, and was a bit shocked. The upgrades would make it so the animatronic costumes could be worn as suits to walk around and take pictures with and say hi to the customers.... And it seems some of the special guest animatronics- including Catherine- were the same way. It didn't explain how Catherine could have a full conversation with her, but the fact that with a simple turn of a crank, you could wear the suit? That's just amazing- even she had never thought of something that genius. She didn't even care about the drawing due to this amazing technology she had discovered! Anna spent a while looking at the blue prints and taking mental notes, and after about half an hour passed, she was done observing and trying to keep this information in her head since she didn't have anything to write it on that didn't look important in the room. After she was done, she turned on the flashlight and turned off the dim light in the room before carefully opening the door and sliding out. It was time for her to leave- completely forgetting about Catherine. She started to make her way towards the colorful curtains towards the entrance, when she suddenly heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Anna quickly turned around as she looked at what was moving, and what she saw made her blood run cold

There, at the entrance of the Special Guest Room, was Catherine. Standing there- staring her down with practically dead eyes

"You said five minutes, Anna....." Catherine said in an upset tone as the metalic tone almost out shined the usual feminine voice she had "Are you trying to leave?" She turned her head down a bit

Anna, without saying a word, started to run towards the entrance, but Catherine was faster, grabbing at her hoodie. Anna quickly unzipped her hoodie, showing that she wore a tank top underneath, as she dropped the flashlight and slipped out of the hoodie, continuing to run. Catherine ran at her, the heavy footsteps echoing through the empty dining area as Anna tried to grab something- ANYTHING- that could stop Catherine, but she couldn't think fast enough, Catherine grabbing her ankle as she desperately grabbed the curtains near the entrance, ripping them off of the doorway as she screamed for help, trying to grab something to hit the demented robot with. As Anna was screaming, Catherine used her free hand to slowly open her chest, showing that her chest cavity was the right size for Anna

"And with my special magic words..... I will make Anna disappear!" Catherine said in a sinister tone as she grabbed Anna with both hands and pushed her into the chest cavity before her chest closed on it's own. "Hocus Pocus!" Catherine said as she stood there, Anna's screams of pain could be heard- but after a couple of minutes- there was silence, followed by a little bit of blood coming out of Catherine's chest. Catherine grabbed a napkin off of the table and simply wiped the blood off of her chest as she took the curtains and the flashlight, hid them under the table, and went back onto the stage, waiting for the day to come again- so that people would enjoy the special guest of the week at Freddy's

(Hope you liked this story- I know it's not as long as normal Fazbear Frights, but I still enjoyed writing this)

[imaginationofacrazyfangirl]

A Not So Beautiful Fairytale

Pairing:  BTS x Reader, Yes all of them.

Genre: Fantasy/Angst/Smut/ Some humor

Summary: You find yourself slave to seven very handsome supernatural beings. They claim they want nothing more than companionship, but years of servitude taught you not to trust their kind. Either way you just need to hang on until you can find your little sister who was separated from you years ago. 

Word Count: 2874

Warnings: Violence, slavery, implied rape, future smut (involving who knows yet, but will update when I do.)

 Human auctions are not uncommon in the supernatural world. As much as they (being the supernatural) feared the knowledge of their existence getting exposed to humans, they couldn’t seem to help themselves from playing with the same creatures they fear so much. Perhaps it is just in their nature to want to maintain dominance over such inferior beings? Whatever the reason is, Namjoon hates slave auctions. He felt no thrill in using a human as servant or some sort of pet to humiliate. Nor did he enjoy in the more carnal pleasure some of his kind took with their human slaves.

   Besides Namjoon couldn’t stand the wailing noise of terror or the sharp scent of piss which accompanied the slave blocks. They were too much for his delicate senses; another reason he chose to avoid the black market as much as possible. Despite being the main source for supernatural to obtain their most basic non-human goods, the market tends to be littered with slave blocks everywhere. The things are practically shoved into every sharp corner or center stage possible in the small square making it virtually impossible to avoid.

    Hence why Seokjin normally did all the shopping for the household. As a siren, he lacked the capability to experience sensations beyond the level of a human. So his tolerance level for such sights is much higher than Namjoon’s. Moreover Jin is pretty much the mother figure of their strange little family of seven and knows better than anyone the things needed in their household. Whereas Namjoon normally buys more than necessary only to destroy half of it on accident due to his clumsiness. So it is only on the rarest occasions such as today when no one else can go that Namjoon is forced to make the trip to the black market.

     He only thanks the heavens that Seokjin didn’t send him alone instead forcing the youngest/newest of their family Jungkook to join him. The dark haired, wide eyed phoenix is still very much a hatchling in spite of being over a hundred years old. Something evident by how he looks around the market mouth hung open.

 “Hyung! This place is amazing!” he exclaims.

   Namjoon smiles shaking his head. He supposes Jungkook is right. The market is a sight to see, especially when compared to those in the human community. Unlike in the human world where everything is modernized, the supernatural community tends to keep their markets and cities no older than the Victorian period. And this particular market hasn’t updated since the renaissance period leaving in its old cobble roads, brick buildings, geometrical favoring and other old fashioned styling. Furthermore its riddled with creatures of all sorts ranging from pale winged faeries to glistening scaled nagas slinking around in their natural forms. A rare sight to see outside such venues. 

    “You’re gonna catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that.” Namjoon teases ruffling Jungkook’s already messy hair.

   The younger boy immediately shuts his mouth. A light blush forms on his cheeks causing Namjoon to smile wider. ‘To be young and unknowing again,’ Namjoon wistfully thinks to himself. He’s not by far the youngest of the group, but he is more knowledgeable of the world than even his elder brothers Jin and Hoseok. His second elder brother Yoongi is the only one more experienced and disillusioned than he is. 

   “Look Namjoon, honey cake!” Jungkook cries, pointing at a wooden stand with a royal blue awning. Under it a sun kissed skinned faerie baters with a red eyed fury over the fluffy golden cakes dripping with honey. Jungkook runs to the stand not even waiting for Namjoon’s response. His body literally glow red at excite over the cakes. Suddenly Namjoon wishes he had gone alone, because something tells him, he’ll be spending way above the budget Jin set for them. Especially since he can never deny getting his brothers anything they wanted.

    "We’ll take four. “ Namjoon orders.

Jungkook frowns.. "Only four? Hyung, I can eat eight and still have room for more. ”

    "We’re here to buy supplies, remember? Jin will kill us if we don’t come home with what was on the list.“ 

   An annoyed huff escapes the phoenix but he says no more deciding it best not to argue. Namjoon is right. Jin would murder them if they returned empty-handed or at least scold them into the next decade. "Fine, but I’m eating one right now. ”

   "Aish, such a kid.“ 

"Exactly. So you should feed me more. I need it to grow.” Jungkook replied, mouth full of cake. 

     Namjoon rolls his eyes. “You’ve been hanging Hoseok too much. He’s starting to rub off on you.”

        “Nothing wrong with that.”  Jungkook says stuffing the last of his treat into his mouth. “So where to next, hyung?”

     Glad for the reprieve Namjoon glances at the list Jin gave him. It’s short compared to what Jin normally wrote when he went shopping. No doubt an act of mercy for Namjoon to which he’s internally grateful for. “Red root and dried dove’s blood, Jin says the best place for it is a druid shop not too far from the market.”

    “Woah! I’ve never seen a druid before-let’s go.” 

Yup…Jungkook has a lot to learn still.

//

   Shopping goes along surprisingly well thanks to Jin’s thorough instructions. They even manage somehow not to blow their budget on silly knick knacks and treats; though Namjoon has his suspicions about just how much money Jin gave them. Either way Namjoon owes Jin the world’s biggest ‘thank you’ for not only were his instructions thorough, but they somehow directed him away from every slave in the vicinity. 

   "Aaahh, we’re all done. Let’s go home, huh Mr. JK?“ Namjoon smiles.

 Silence.

  "Jungkook?” Namjoon turns only to find the phoenix gone. Panic arises in him knowing how naive the boy still is and how tricky the market can be. For all Namjoon knows Jungkook already traded away his first born or something worse to a shady vendor. The thought hits Namjoon like a freight train. “Jungkook!?”

   Closing his eyes, Namjoon blocks every sense of his but smell. Thankfully phoenixes have a rather distinct scent of smoke, ashes and cinnamon making it easy to point Jungkook out of the maze of creatures. Even more thankfully Namjoon doesn’t smell any of the usual worrisome vendors around the boy. What he does smell though are the sour vinegar scent of piss, salt water, copper and humans…Jungkook found his way to a slave block. 

   Briefly Namjoon debates on letting the phoenix find his own way back. After all, Jungkook isn’t that young he can’t figure out how to find Namjoon. Plus as a phoenix, Jungkook technically is the strongest of creatures in their family-so it’s not like Namjoon needs protect him all the time… 

      It takes Namjoon less than a second to find him. The younger boy unsurprisingly stands at the very front of the block. His eyes wide open as he stares at the three humans on stage. Undoubtedly this is Jungkook’s first auction, and like most of their kind, he’s enthralled by it. 

  "Come on, Jungkook. Let’s go.“ Namjoon says, grabbing him by the shoulder. He purposefully turns to miss the frightened faces of the humans. As much as he hates glamour, it seems kinder to deceive humans of their horrible fate. 

    "Hyung, look.” Jungkook urges, eyes unwavering from their original spot.

   Namjoon shakes his head. “A slave auction I know. I’ve seen them before Kookie.”

 “And how much are you willing to pay for this male human? He has plenty of fat on him, making him the perfect entree dish for your next dinner party!” The auctioneer cheers. 

 A violent sob escapes the human followed by loud offers from the crowd. Namjoon can’t help but sneer at them. For a race that thought themselves superior than humans, they are truly awful creatures. 

  The gavel slams. “Sold to the pixies. Enjoy ladies and fella. Next of human 427, a little on the old side but still good for things like embroidery, cleaning or aged bone soup.”

    "Jungkook now.“ Namjoon orders. He puts a bit of his strength into it but the phoenix barely budges.

       "Joonie, you don’t understand. Look.” Jungkook pleads, pointing. Reluctantly Namjoon does as asked his eyes landing on the third human. He supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised to find that the human who ‘enchanted’ Jungkook is a young woman, the phoenix is young after all. “She’s beautiful…”

  The longing in Jungkook’s voice nearly strikes a chord within his own heart. From where he stands you don’t appear beautiful, your (h/c) hair is long and unruly from lack of care, skin a shade paler than it should be from lack of sunlight, dirt splotches decorate your naked body along with bruises and scars most likely given by your 'caretakers ’. No you are far from beautiful. However for some reason Namjoon can’t pull his eyes away. 

   "I want her, Namjoon-hyung.“ Jungkook states, his voice leaving no room for argument. 

   "Jungkook, we can’t buy her-”

     "Why not? I have more than enough money to. I’d take care of her like how my parents care for their humans. “

    "She’s not a pet, Kookie. She’s a living creature with feelings and emotions.” Namjoon swallows, trying to remember why buying humans is bad.

     "She won’t be my pet. I’ll let her do whatever she wants no questions asked. I just need her to be mine, hyung.“ The determination in Jungkook’s voice shakes Namjoon to his core. He’s only heard Jungkook that determined once in his life, and that was to join their family. 

    "Next up we got this foxy little minx here. ” the auctioneer says. 

     The guards push you further on stage, almost causing you to stumble due to your unwillingness to move. You shoot them a hateful look. Suddenly Namjoon realizes why he finds you so interesting, you have no fear or sorrow in your eyes. Everything about you screams fighter not victim. 

  “As you can see folks, she’s not the most pliant of our lot, but that’s nothing a little glamour won’t fix. Am I right?”  The auctioneer grins. As if to prove a point he walks over to you hand out glimmering with magic. He’s undoubtedly going to put you under, something which Namjoon is surprisingly grateful for. Perhaps if you have the druggy blank stare and dreamy smile all glamoured humans do, he’ll be able to turn and leave.

    The auctioneer reaches out to caress you. However instead of meeting your soft skin, his hand tastes the sharpness of your teeth. A scream erupts him as the guards rush to pull you off. All the while the crowd watches first in silent contemplation of these chain of events then in laugher and finally whispered caution of you. 

   "Evil thing. You’ve just lost any chance you had at escaping here alive.“ the auctioneer growled, slapping you hard. "I told you to behave, and you didn’t listen. Now you’ll pay. ”

  Horror invades Namjoon as the auctioneer raises the gavel above your head. “FORTY THOUSAND!" 

    The words escape Namjoon before he knows it. All eyes turn to him in disbelief. With a deep swallow Namjoon makes his resolve. "I’ll pay forty thousand for her.”

   The auctioneer cocks an eyebrow. “You’d pay for this insolent brat?”

    "I said forty thousand didn’t I?“ Namjoon retorts.

 The auctioneer eyes him for a second. A greedy smile spreads across his face. Immediately Namjoon knows this is going to take a turn for the worse. "This brat has caused me a lot of strife these last few months. So much so revenge is sounding rather nice compared to whatever price you’re low balling me.”

    Namjoon scoffs. Forty thousand is far from low balling if anything it is a hundred times more than you are worth. Moreover Namjoon knows what the auctioneer wants in exchange and no human is worth that price. Yet he can’t find it in himself to leave. “Forty thousand and two years worth of cultivation.”

   "Namjoon-hyung! That’s your life energy you’re exchanging. “ Jungkook hisses.

    Namjoon doesn’t waver. "Well?”

 "Like I said I don’t appreciate lowballers.“ The auctioneer frown, swinging the gavel downwards.

    "NO!" 

   "I’ll add a phoenix tear!” Jungkook’s voice rings out. 

   The gavel stops mid-air. Interest returns to the auctioneer in the form of a grin. “Really a phoenix tear? Forty thousand, two years of life force, and a phoenix tear?”

  Now it is Namjoon’s turn to protest. “No. Jungkook, nothing is worth that price.”

    Phoenixes tears valued more than anything any supernatural could give, and the method of extracting them…Namjoon doesn’t even want to picture it. “He’s already asking for too much. We should just leave -”

    "Stop hyung. I’ve already made my decision. “ Jungkook states firmly. "So auctioneer do we have a deal or are you just a greedy bastard?”

   The auctioneer hums stroking his chin, “Fine. Take her. She’s too much trouble for me. Good luck training her. ”

    Yanking the twine rope around your neck, the auctioneer throws you off the stage. Namjoon moves to catch you, but Jungkook is quicker grabbing you virtually in midair. He looks down at you with an expression, Namjoon has never seen on the phoenix before. “You are alright. You’re safe now. ” Jungkook promises.

   Words fail to express anything Namjoon is thinking, but he gets the feeling something has changed drastically. 

//

Tiny painful gasps escape you as the rope around your neck constricts. Even without the slaver or guards there to pull at it, you can feel its every tightening presence. Especially now that someone - something has bought you. “Hey, what’s wrong? Hyung, I think something is wrong with her!” The dark haired boy cried.

   He stares down at you eyes full of panic. It is odd to see a creature worried about someone outside of their race. In the two years of your captivity, you learned quickly just how little these things cared for humans. “She got yanked by the rope, Kookie. It probably bruised her throat if not knock the wind out of her at the very least. ” his blonde haired companion informs. 

  You eye him cautiously, unsure what to make of him or the boy. Overall he’s lankier with a skinnier but taller figure. Even his face is more defined with sharper angles in the nose and cheek area; which is funny because despite the baby fat still clinging to the brunette, you can tell he’s the more muscular of the two. “Asshole.” The brunette hisses, grabbing the rope.

    You flinch readying yourself for the pull only to feel a soft heat against your neck. The sense of something burning kisses your nose and a soft 'crackle’ chimes as the weight of the rope disappears. Slowly you open your eyes to find the rope in ashes. Brunette or Kookie as Blondie called him, smiles at you. “There. All better now. ”

   In disbelief, your hands search your neck only to find nothing. “W-why?”

 The question slips from you. This is definitely not normal slave owner behavior. Were they trying to lure you by feigning kindness? Or did they truly mean it? Maybe they were abolitionists who hated slavery-if such people existed in the supernatural community. 

     Kookie’s smile widens. “It was hurting you, right? So I took care of it like any good owner would.”

   Owner? Whatever hopes you may have are destroyed by that single utterance. Nothing changed, you are still trapped. “Aish, what did I say about her not being a pet, Jungkook?” The blonde chastises. 

  Kookie, Jungkook or whatever his name is, shoots him a sheepish look. His doughy cheeks redden with embarrassment. He looks genuinely ashamed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean you were a pet. I meant a-”

       "A slave?“ You finish for him. "Or am I to be food for you at some point?”

   Horror washes across Jungkook’s face. To his credit, he even turn a little pale at the question. “What? No! I would never eat you -or any humans. I love humans. It’s just…you’re just-”

     The blonde lays a comforting hand on Jungkook’s head silencing him. “Jungkook’s too pure hearted to cause anyone harm without reason.”

     "I’m human what more reason do you need?“ You reply unwavering. Scars and bruises litter your body from these 'pure hearted ’ creatures. Nothing, no promise or assurance can ever make you trust them. 

       Light brown eyes scan you as if searching for something you can’t see. Subconsciously you push yourself further into Jungkook’s body as if to hide your vulnerability. Blondie smiles at you. It is a soft yet sorrowful smile as he knows exactly what you’ve gone through. He reaches out, his large hand cradling your chin. "You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? I know my promise probably means nothing given my kind put you through this,  but you’ll be safe with us. I promise.”

   You open your mouth you protest, but no sound comes out. Prior experience warns against trusting these two, however something within silences it. Perhaps it is a fool’s wish, but you want to believe him… want to believe both of them.

    "Well if this isn’t a lovely sight?“ An all too familiar voice interrupts. The three of you look to see the auctioneer grinning down at you. "Now if you two are done playing with the merchandise, a deal is a deal.”

//

[maythewidowtakeusall]

Partners in Crime (Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader)

Wordcount: 1524

Warnings: death, funeral

Summary: A boring night of mission report writing with your girlfriend Natasha and your friend Clint takes an unexpected turn.

A/N: Inspired by Max Richter’s On The Nature of Daylight, my weird mood after watching the Arrival and my constant insatiable hunger for angst. To amp up the hurt, I highly recommend listening to the song while reading.

"This job will be the death of me one day."

Natasha hums and holds up a finger, chewing on the end of her pen. Clint just grunts, not even bothering to answer you as he stuffs another slice of pizza in his mouth. You crinkle your nose - you're a messy eater, but that boy can be downright nasty. Laying your head on your forearms and resting your eyes for a moment, you sigh. Being a SHIELD agent is all fun and games for an adrenaline junkie like you and your esteemed colleagues, but eventually, when the fieldwork runs out and the paperwork catches up with you (along with threatening messages from Director Fury to deliver your reports on time), you don't feel like it's all that amusing anymore. Being stuck at HQ on a Saturday night at 11 pm isn't your idea of fun. You ignore your badly typed up report in front of you as you gaze at your girlfriend expectantly, mouthing "entertain me" when she finally looks up. She rolls her eyes but smiles, her computer screen lighting up her face, lending her an almost ethereal glow. Natasha has always been an otherworldly phenomenon for you and probably always will be.

"Dying is pretty much part of the equation here," Natasha finally acknowledges you, leaning back in her chair. "Hate to break it to you, but we're constantly assigned the most dangerous missions."

"I meant the paperwork, not the missions," you grin, your face and hair a tired mess that is still the most beautiful thing in the world for Nat. She masks her admiration pretty well though, just so you don't know the true magnitude of your effect on her. She's not sure you're ready for that. Hell, she's not even sure she herself is.

"Well, look at you being all optimistic," Clint speaks up sarcastically with a mouthful of food. "Thinking you'd die of typing up a report instead of participating in a death-defying mission."

"I'm not!" you laugh. "Really, it's not like I am already planning my retirement or something."

"Yeah? 'Cause I am," Barton smiles, his eyes looking but not really seeing. He's seeing Laura and the kids and the house, and he sees himself teaching his children how to shoot straight with a bow and arrow and how to start a fire from scratch, and he's already saving up for their college tuitions. You look at Natasha, who just shrugs with a smile. "Never really had the chance to think about living to a ripe old age before, but better late than never."

"Wait, hold on - are you guys serious? You're really thinking about the future so... positively?"

"It's called hope, baby," Natasha teases you. You click your tongue in mild frustration. You won't be lectured about hope for the future by these two dramatic morons who would sacrifice their lives at a moment's notice if they thought that was the best course of action.

"Well, since you're both so awfully sure about surviving, I guess we need to talk about my funeral," you end up laughing, sleep deprivation soaking into your slurred words. Clint snorts. Nat furrows her brows in confusion. "No dress code. Have a good time. And yes, by that I mean throw a huge party in a fancy club. Oh, and blast Highway to Hell on maximum volume during the ceremony."

Facing your own mortality almost every day is a burden that cannot be carried without the soothing touch of dark humor to ease the constantly impending doom looming above your head. Clint is often game in jokes and ideas such as this, but it comes as a surprise when Natasha breaks into a tired grin too. "I'll start taking notes. Anything else you want? From us, maybe? Since we'll obviously outlive you by far."

"Wait, I have an idea!" Clint straightens his back, revitalized by this quality distraction from his half-assed mission report. "I'll come in full gear, arrows and bow and all, okay? So it's raining, right? Hair all soaked, I have this doom and gloom expression plastered on my face, and I just go up to your coffin, lay a hand on it and whisper some shit like, 'I'm too late... I was supposed to be the one to take you out.'"

"You gotta do your raspy, deep voice though," Nat laughs.

"Wait, are you saying my voice isn't deep and manly enough for you?"

"I'm sold," you say, electing to ignore Clint's last remark of faux outrage. "That leaves you, baby. I want you to wear something insanely foxy and elegant."

"And a pair of sunglasses, even if it's not even sunny!" Barton adds enthusiastically.

"Hey, I thought there was no dress code!" Natasha shakes her head, red curls bouncing around her face in protest.

"My funeral, my rules. Besides, you'll be playing the mourning trophy wife who's recently been widowed and has inherited a fortune. You have to look good."

"You have to marry me first to make me a widow." Her smile is seductive and loving and challenging. Your stomach flips from your sudden surge of anxiety and enthusiasm. Hopefully, someday, you want to say, but you glance at Clint and don't say anything. You're tired of him calling you cheesy and mushy all the time.

"And (Y/n) has a lot of paperwork to do yet to earn that fortune she keeps talking about!"

"You know what, Barton? Fuck you."

You haven't laughed this much in a long time. You look around the room with a wide smile on your face, trying to memorize these cherished little details that make the whole world bearable for you: the green flash of Natasha's cat eyes, the crinkle in the corners of Clint's eyes when he laughs, their playful banters, how Nat swats Clint's arm playfully when he says something stupid, flashing her pearly whites in an open-mouthed laugh. You're so overwhelmed with love for Natasha, the Bonnie to your Clyde, the Thelma to your Louise. You don't know if you could ever thank Clint for having your back no matter what. You want this moment to last forever, and in a way, it does. You've burnt it into your memory, imprinted into your heart even; so much in fact that when you took your last breath, you were looking at a terrified Steve Rogers trying to stop your burgundy blood from spilling out, but that wasn't what you were seeing. You saw your partners in crime, laughing over open pizza boxes and half-written mission reports on a cold December night at the SHIELD headquarters two years ago. You saw Natasha, her reflection dancing on the huge window behind her, as the lights of New York and the star-studded sky crowned her crimson hair. Even then, her eyes were the brightest things you'd ever seen. They will always be the brightest for you. She will always be.

Life goes on without you, even though they don't want it to. They have a promise to keep though, and they adhere to it, down to the last detail, because when they do, they feel like you're still alive. Fury is wearing a knitted sweater the color of orange. "For hope," he says, tugging on his sleeves nervously. Laura is there too, along with all those you had loved and who loved you. Clint wears his full gear, just like he said he would, and he does go up to your coffin, placing a hand over the smooth but cold wood. It's raining, and he's not sure whether the water drops on the polished oak are raindrops or his own tears.

"I'm too late... I'm too late..." he whispers, voice barely audible from the panic of your death dawning on him. "I was supposed to be the one to... I was supposed to be the one to save you."

Natasha never thought she'd ever cry over an ACDC song, especially not Highway to Hell, but today is a first for her from many perspectives. Her mascara is running down her cheeks in thick black lines, but she keeps herself steady because she made a promise to you, and so she obediently keeps pushing her big black sunglasses up that stubbornly slide down her nose every now and then. She is divine, even though she was thoroughly soaked before Steve came to stand with her, sharing his umbrella with her. Your favorite black dress of hers, paired with a black fur coat, delicate black gloves and a pair of high heels. Natasha knows that if this doesn't wake you up, then nothing will.

She is a widow now, truly. Her codename meant little to her before, but now she is merging with it fully. And the fortune you left her? Well, it may not be tangible, like money, or the little shared apartment of yours, or the wedding band the mortician slid off your finger and gave to Natasha - no, it's the memories. It's the nights spent together, the secrets whispered in the dark, the sunsets watched together, the dinners cooked in silent harmony, the love that was made in the symphony of your bodies.

Natasha doesn't know why, but she thinks back to that cold, cold Saturday night from two years ago. And she smiles through her tears.

[latestageyouth]

When you walk away (Nothing more to say)

chapter 7 -  hey guys did you know mcr is back together?

trigger warnings: sympathetic Remus and Deceit, mentions of shoplifting, mentions of getting arrested, hangover, Remus makes a joke about rape (but not rape victims), mentions of a party, swearing (let me know if I missed something)

summary: Damon doesn't ask you to dinner he asks you to rob seven eleven with him uwu

Banging on the door woke Damon up, making him groan. He rubbed his eyes, barely following what Avery said as they opened it.

"Alright, bud, I have a day shift today, so I won't be home. You can order pizza when you get home, there's money on the fridge. Now get up, you're gonna be late for school," they didn't wait for Damon to process what they just said before walking out of the room and putting on their shoes.

Damon, although reluctantly, rolled out of bed and went to put some clothing on...oh, guess he fell asleep in his clothes already. When did he even fall asleep? When did he get home? God, his head hurts, don't tell him he's hungover again. He swears he didn't drink anything this time...right? Whatever, it's not like it matters. What matters now is finding some painkillers.

He stumbled into the kitchen, physically wincing at the bright light going in through the windows. He opened the cabinet where Avery put all the meds. Painkillers, painkillers...painkillers! It doesn't even sound like a real word anymore, but hey, he found them! That's an accomplishment.

Damon didn't even think about getting water, swallowing it dry. He looked at the clock, he still has time, it's fine. He shuffled back to his room, changing from his usual clothes to something that didn't reek of alcohol. He didn't want to give up his vest but he also didn't want to get suspended and add onto Avery's list of problems. He finally settled on his first patched jacket. Huh, it was still too big on him. It brought so many memories to wear it again. He didn't know to sew back then so he just pinned patches in place with safety pins, didn't even bother to sew them on when he actually learned to sew.

Forget all that, where is his phone? It's not in his pockets, so maybe somewhere in his room? Damon looked around the room...no sign of his phone, maybe the kitchen? he walked back to look. Nothing on the counters, nor the table. Damon looked around the house, searching even the bathroom, but found nothing. Don't tell him he left it at that house party, Avery will kill him.

Well, forget all that now, maybe Remus picked it up when he left. Was Remus even there with him? Who was he kidding, of course he was, Remus was always there when Damon needed him. Nevermind that, to get to Remus Damn needed to get to school first.

The bus ride was louder than normal, but that was most likely because of the hungover. Damon already knew this was gonna be a long day the moment he stepped out of the door, and it was not getting better. He paid no attention to the few people who did stare at him as he walked into the school, instead looking around for Remus...if he's not somewhere in the hallway he's probably in one of the bathrooms. Luckily Damon found him in the first bathroom he stepped in, writing profanities on the stall door, "Thought you were over that in Sophmore year."

Remus smirked, slowly turning his head to look at Damon, "Well, it's always fun to go back and ignore reali-holy shit man you look like shit."

Damon raised an eyebrow, "You think I haven't noticed?"

"Nah, it's just that right now I look better than you and that never happened in my life," Remus put the black marker in his pocket, "Did someone rape you or something?"

The hungover man furrowed his eyebrows, "You weren't at the party?"

"There was a party?"

Damon sighed, "Nevermind," he leaned against one of the sinks, "Guess you don't have my phone then?" he reached into a pocket of his jacket but found no cigarettes, he must've forgotten them in his vest. Damon mentally cursed himself out for it.

"Nope, you lost it?" Damon nodded, at which Remus laughed, "Ha, loser."

Damon put his head in his hands and groaned, "Everything is so bright and painful," he dug his nails into his forehead.

"Thought I was the one with a drinking problem," Remus went to sit beside him. Before he could say anything else the bell rang, at which Damon flinched and covered his ears. Remus pushed himself off, "Welp, I'll be off, you comin'?"

Damon waved his hand dismissively, "Just...give me a few minutes."

Remus nodded, "Fair enough, you foxy snake," he pushed the door open before he could get a reaction. He wouldn't admit it but he was kind of disappointed that Damon didn't notice his hair, but he did have it in a bun, so he could forgive him for it. To be honest, Remus wasn't even sure that he walked into the right class but Virgil waving at him made him sure enough. He went to sit next to him, "Why hello there, darling, didn't see you there."

Virgil rolled his eyes, 'Where's D?'

"Probably jerking off in a bathroom for all I know, why?"

'I found his phone near a trash can on a street.'

Remus raised his eyebrows, "This is like the fourth phone you found on a street since we met, I have no idea how you find phones so easily but I want you to teach me."

Virgil smiled and shrugged. Truth be told, the two didn't pay much attention even after the lesson started, instead passing notes to each other instead of signing to avoid any suspicion. Geography wasn't their strongest or favourite subject. All of the class and the teacher turned their heads when the door opened.

"Sorry I'm late, I was attacked by a bear."

The teacher which Remus still didn't know the name of crossed her arms, "Honest as always, Mr. Barnes. Take a seat."

Damon went to sit behind Remus and Virgil. Remus turned around to face him, "Virgil has your phone."

"Let me guess, found it on a street?" Virgil nodded as Damon took the phone back, examining it. The yellow case with snakes on it was still intact, but the screen..."Fuck, Avery's gonna kill me."

After a while, Virgil passes him a note, 'Who's Avery?'

"Oh, they're my parent. They didn't really want to be called mom or dad, and parent seemed too formal."

An exaggerated cough interrupted their conversation, "Gentlemen, do you mind?"

Before Damon and Virgil could stop him, Remus responded to her, "Yeah, mind ya' own business."

The teacher gave Remus a blank look, "Why am I even surprised? That's detention for you, Mr. Addington," she went back to teaching.

Damon lowered his voice, "Great job, idiot," Remus just shrugged. You would think Virgil would stay out of this, but no, of course not. He passed Remus a note:

'press F to pay respects'

Remus wrote back to him:

'like u have any respect fr me'

Needless to say, not much has changed since the teacher gave him detention, it wasn't like Remus cared anyway. The lesson went the same, with the three passing notes around too much to not be obvious, but no one really cared enough to tell the teacher. Finally, after when seemed like an eternity, the bell rang and Remus practically sprinted out of the door.

"Woah, what's the rush?"

Remus continued to speed walk with the two, "I realized halfway through the lesson that I left my spray cans in the bathroom and if someone finds them I will have a mental breakdown because those are my last."

The two soon given up on trying to keep up with Remus, settling on a walking pace in a direction where they thought Remus had gone.

'What's with the jacket?'

"Didn't want to smell like an alcoholic," Virgil physically scrunched up his face and took a step back. Damon rolled his eyes, "It's not like I smell now, right?" Virgil shook his head, then looked around, "What?"

Virgil looked back at Damon, 'Where's Remus?'

"Who knows where that chaotic bastard is, probably pestering Roman or something," Damon shrugged, "He'll find us eventually, why bother."

Virgil nodded in agreement, raising his eyebrows.

"By the way, what's with his hair?"

Virgil rolled his eyes dramatically, 'So you noticed. He's been sad about it all day.'

"Oh?" Damon raised he eyebrow an smirked, "Does he have a crush on me or something?"

'It's Remus, you never know,' Virgil shuffled on his feet.

Damon slowly nodded, "Yeah, I guess so..." he looked away for a second, staring at the line of lockers, before averting his gaze back at Virgil. Why was he nervous? He out of all people shouldn't be nervous, "Avery's not home today, wanna come over?"

Virgil tilted his head slightly, 'Why?'

The other man scoffed playfully, "I dunno, isn't that what friends do and stuff? I mean, I do have another idea, but..." he looked at Virgil again, meeting the agitating stare, "There's this convenience store a few blocks from here and I have some beef with the owner, want to steal something?" the stare quickly turned into a panicked one.

'Shoplifting?'

Damon nodded.

'...Isn't that more of a Remus thing?'

He looked away, "Yeah, but Remus isn't allowed in that store anymore after The Freezer Accident of 2016."

Virgil raised his eyebrows, unsure if he wants to know what that is. After a while of thinking, and considering what Emile would do if his "precious stormcloud" ended up in jail. Can you go to jail for shoplifting if you're underage? Most likely. Has Remus or Damon ever been in jail? Now he's just being irrational. Remus has probably been arrested though, no doubt. I mean, what's the worst that can happen, really, except Virgil being caught and getting arrested and maybe going to jail and spending his life behind bars because he was thirsty for some Pepsi. Virgil nodded, 'Won't Remus be jealous?'

"Most likely."

[eddiesasspbrak]

“I’ll never stop telling you you’re beautiful.”

Prompt inspired by one line of dialogue.

On AO3

When Richie drinks he gets a little sappy and reminds Eddie just how beautiful he truly is. 

Less than 2k words, oneshot

Eddie Kaspbrak loved his boyfriend, but sometimes he also hated him. Their plans for the evening involved dinner at their favorite diner and an open mic night at a local comedy club. Richie would take the stage, get a few laughs and then they’d enjoy a few drinks with their friends who had come to watch. Emphasis on a few. Their plans did not involve Richie getting shit faced to the point of not being able to walk himself to the door.

While it was funny watching him stand from his chair and immediately fall back down into it, vindication after Eddie had warned him he was drinking too much and he’d brushed him off. It was extremely annoying that he literally couldn’t take two steps without someone helping him. Ben had volunteered to walk him to the bathroom having needed to go there himself, but Eddie knew he’d be like a giant baby learning to walk for the first time for the rest of the night.

They lived close enough to walk and Eddie couldn’t stand the idea of spending money on a cab when they could walk there faster. He’d turned down the offer to share a ride with Bill and Stan as they wanted to stay longer, and Eddie knew he had to get Richie out of there. If they’d stayed, Richie would have just insisted on one more drink and then Eddie would have to spend the rest of the evening cleaning puke from their entrance way. Again.

So, with Richie leaning against his shoulder and Eddie’s arm securely around his waist, his other hand holding Richie’s, which was draped around his shoulders, they walked. Richie was a bit taller, which made walking like this even more challenging. It also didn’t help that he was essentially trying to make out with the side of his face. Eddie kept leaning away, a difficult task when the other man was leaning on him for support.

“Seriously, stop it asshole. You’re going to end up tripping and dragging me down with you.” Eddie complained, letting go of his hand long enough to push his face away.

“Can’t help it. You’re too damn beautiful.” Richie slurred with a cheesy grin.

“Shut the fuck up. I’ve told you a thousand times not to call me beautiful.”

“But you are.”

Eddie sighed, ignoring the way Richie’s words made his stomach twist and his face get warm. He always got like this when he was drunk. Not that he wasn’t loving when he was sober, he just got a lot sappier when alcohol was introduced. Like a faucet turned on full blast.

Ignoring Eddie’s previous complaints, Richie turned his head to nuzzle his nose into his hair. Eddie reached up and lightly slapped his cheek, trying to will him to stop and just fucking walk. They were only five blocks away from their apartment. Surely this could wait until they were home and not stumbling down a city street.

“I swear to God, Richie. I will let you go and leave you here on the street if you don’t stop.” Eddie threatened.

“Stop being so fucking cute and I will.” Richie responded, kissing the side of his head.

“Don’t call me cute either.”

“Why not?”

“It’s annoying.” What he really meant was ‘it’s embarrassing’. Those passing by could hear him and it was utterly humiliating.

“It’s true though. My cute, little Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Oh my God.”

The addition of the pet name did nothing to alleviate the warmth that was spreading from Eddie’s face to his neck. He wondered just how red he was in the glow from the streetlights. Richie, having noticed the blush on his cheeks and being the way he was, decided there was no way he was going to let up now. Eddie’s threat of dropping him on the street only had a 50% chance of actually happening and he liked those odds.

“Why do you try to deny it? Anyone who looks at you can see how handsome you are.”

“Richie.” Eddie’s voice had a warning tone to it. They had two and a half blocks to go. He wouldn’t feel guilty leaving him here.

“Can’t use handsome either? What about lovely.”

“Shut up.”

“Gorgeous?”

“I’m serious.”

“Dazzling. Bewitching. Radiant.”

“Beep, beep Richie.”

“Stunning. Elegant. Foxy. Resplendent.” Richie continued, ignoring the phrase that was meant to stop him from talking.

“Fine, jackass. Have fun sleeping on the street.” Eddie said, releasing his hold on Richie and ducking out from under his arm.

Richie stumbled but managed to stay upright, following Eddie who was stomping away. He carefully jogged to keep up, reaching for his hand. Eddie swatted his hand away, pretending he wasn’t there. Richie laughed as he instead grabbed hold of his arm to keep them attached. Eddie pulled against him, but Richie wasn’t willing to let go.

When they made it to their building, Eddie chose to take the stairs so he could get to the apartment sooner and so he wouldn’t be stuck on the elevator with Richie. With the room still spinning, Richie had no choice but to let Eddie go to carefully climb the stairs, holding onto the railing on both sides. Eddie practically ran up the stairs, leaving him behind as he focused on not tripping.

“Eddie! You can’t just leave me here.” Richie fake whined, the smile never leaving his face.

Eddie flipped him off over his shoulder and disappeared beyond the stairwell door that lead to their floor. Richie hoped he had his keys in case Eddie decided to lock him out. He wasn’t sure their neighbors would appreciate him sitting in the hall banging on the door at 1am. Not after last time. The angry note taped to their door the next morning had not been very neighborly. When he eventually made it up the stairs, only stumbling twice, he tested the doorknob on their front door to find it was unlocked. So, he couldn’t be too angry then.

He let himself in, shrugged out of his jacket and kicked his shoes off. He could see the living room and kitchen from the entrance way, and both were vacant of red-faced boyfriends. Richie called out to him as he made his way into the apartment but got no response.

Walking down the hallway, he peeked into the bathroom to make sure he wasn’t hiding out in there. Again, no Eddie to be seen. Their bedroom door at the end of the hall was closed. This door, Eddie had locked. With a shit eating grin on his face, Richie pulled out his wallet, retrieving a credit card to slip between the door and the frame to jimmy the lock open. Eddie should have known that he knew how to get into the room even when it was locked. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to keep him out.

Once inside, Richie could see an Eddie shaped bump under their comforter, completely submerged beneath the fabric.

“Eddie. I tracked mud in all over the hallway carpet.” He tried to lure him out from beneath the blanket, though he knew that was unlikely to work.

No, he’d have to take matters to a physical level. Something Eddie really should have seen coming. No matter how hard he tried to ignore him, Eddie would not win. Not when he had chosen Richie Tozier as a lover. Not wasting even a second more, Richie crossed the room and launched himself onto the bed, directly on top of Eddie.

A loud ‘oof’ followed by a string of muffled curses that could be heard from underneath him, even with Richie’s obnoxiously loud laughter. After a bit of flailing as Eddie tried to maneuver his arms from under Richie, the top of the blanket was being thrown to the side, revealing Eddie’s red face. Richie beamed down at him.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” Eddie practically shrieked, squirming in an attempt to knock him off the bed.

“You were ignoring me.”

“Get the fuck off of me you absolute piece of shit.”

“You left me on the stairs, locked me out of the room, and ignored me when I was trying to make piece. So why should I?” The grin never left Richie’s face. He knew he was pissing him off, but it only made him that much cuter.

“I only did that because you were being a dick.”

“I was calling you cute. You’d think that would get me laid, not locked out of my own bedroom.”

“I told you to stop. I don’t like it when you do that.”

Richie scoffed, and rolled onto his back, pulling Eddie along with him until the roles were reversed and Eddie was lying on top of him. His anger was dulled down to annoyance as he gave up trying to get away and just sighed loudly instead. It crossed his mind that he could easily get away again in this position, but he pretended that wasn’t true.

“Don’t lie to me asshole. I know you love it when I call you beautiful.” Richie said, cupping his face with one hand, his thumb gently brushing along his cheekbone.

“It’s embarrassing.” Eddie was still annoyed, but Richie noted the way he pressed his face against his hand.

“Deal with it, Kaspbrak. I’ll never stop telling you you’re beautiful because I’ll never not believe it.”

All of the anger and annoyance that Eddie had been feeling toward Richie melted away as he dropped his head, his forehead against Richie’s chest. Richie’s hand moved to the back of his neck, cradling him close. It was in these moments that Eddie really felt loved. He’d had such a skewed image of what love felt like because of his mother but he knew now that this was what love really was.

“I love you.” He mumbled against Richie’s chest.

Richie’s smile returned in full force, a swell of emotions filling his chest as he squeezed just a little bit tighter. With some coaxing from Richie, Eddie finally lifted his head to kiss the other man. Sometimes Eddie hated his boyfriend, but for the most part he loved him. Even when he was sloppy drunk and bombarding him with embarrassing compliments.

[ive-got-99-problems]

In The Woods (Rocket x OC)

Max, the hunters, and the characters in the town, the rest belong to Marvel! <3

The art is also done by me.

------ Chapter 12, Plans ------ Rocket and Max sat at the kitchen table, Max eating her breakfast as Rocket explained a bit about his past. With everything she had told him about hers, well it only seemed fair that he'd reveal a bit of his past to her. He told her about his criminal record, how he met Groot and the Guardians, how they saved the galaxy from both Ronan and Ego, and explained how they met Thor and he met the Avengers, he even told her about Thanos and the Infinity stones. When he explained how Nebula returned without the others he began to choke up, having to pause to calm himself down.

Max just gave him a sympathetic look, her bowl now completely empty and had been for hours due to their conversation. She reached out and gently took his hand into hers, Rocket blushing and tensed a little as his small hand was engulfed in hers. They still didn't discuss what happened the night before, with the kiss. Rocket honestly couldn't stop thinking about it, he'd constantly catch himself staring at her lips as he talked. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't want to do it again, but right now seemed hardly the time for kissing, what with her grieving and all.

"They seemed like nice people," Max whispered, "I'm sorry about what happened to them."

"Yeah," was all Rocket managed to say as he looked down at the table.

"Hopefully the Avengers will figure out a way to fix all of this," she sighed as she let go of Rocket's hand and leaned back against her chair.

He shook his head, "I don't think they will, it's already been a year, Thanos is dead and the stones are gone, I don't think there's any way of undoing this."

"You never know Rocket. Like you said, it's only been a year, it'll probably take them a while to come up with a good plan."

He shrugged, "Maybe, let's just hope I ain't too old to help when they do."

She smiled, "I don't think you will. So, what're you going to do now?"

"Stay with you, obviously."

"Well, yes, I know that, but is there anything you'd like to do?"

"Like what?" He questioned as he cocked his head.

Max's cheeks darkened, "Oh, I don't know, maybe try and settle down, maybe have a family?"

He laughed, "Max, look at me, you really think I'd be able to settle down?"

"You never know, there could be a foxy raccoon rummaging through the trashcan right now," she grinned.

He just scoffed, "Yeah, no, I'm good."

She laughed which caused Rocket to smile, he loved it when she laughed.

"Besides, I'm more into Terrians."

"Terrians?" Max questioned.

"Humans."

Her cheeks became red, "O-Oh, I see."

"What about you?" He grinned, "Do you got any bigs plans?"

She shook her head, "No, I mean, someday I would like to get married and have kids, you know, that whole thing. But for right now I've got nothing, I'll probably just keep hunting and fishing so I can get some money."

He nodded, "Why don't you go to that thing, what is it? College? I hear that that's what most kids your age do."

She just shrugged, "College isn't for me, I struggled a lot in high school, never mind college. Besides, even if I wanted to go I couldn't, I don't have any money and there's no way I'm taking out a loan."

"A loan?"

"Yeah, it's like when you borrow money from the bank and then you pay it back over time with interest."

"Oh, and how much does college cost?"

She thought for a moment, "Well, it depends on what school you go to, for how many years you're going, and what you're majoring in. Sometimes loans can be up to 85K."

He gawked, "Are you serious? You could buy a ship with that type of money."

She nodded, "Yeah, but that's what you gotta do if you want a high paying job. Well sometimes, I know a lot of people make good money in the sewage, logging, and coal industry."

"There you go, you can do that."

She laughed, "No way, I'm perfectly content with what I'm doing now. As long as I can pay for food and the bills I'll be fine," she suddenly frowned, "And Rocket, I want you to stay, but if you do you're going to have to help me with money. Which means you'll have to help me with hunting and fishing."

He nodded, "Figured as much, maybe I could make some guns for you to sell?"

She laughed, "Yeah, like that's what this place needs, guns that'll do twice the damage a normal gun would do."

He smirked, "Well yeah, what's the fun in making normal-ass guns?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe not killing an entire civilization."

He rolled his eyes, "But that's the fun of it, you just don't know how to have fun."

She laughed, "I think I'm starting to realize why you had a criminal record," she then fell silent for a moment, deep in thought. "Tell you what, you can make some guns and then we'll test them. If they're too powerful we're not selling them."

"So we'll keep them?"

She sighed, "As long as you don't blow anything up, then sure."

"Sounds like a good enough deal," he smirked.

"But Rocket, you have to make things we'll be able to sell," Max said in a stern voice.

Rocket raised his hands up defensively, "I will, I will, geez, you sound like a mom."

She grinned, "Which is a good thing if you're going to be acting like a child."

He chuckled before eyeing her clothes, "You better go get changed, I'll clean your bowl."

She smiled and nodded, as she made her way to her room she glanced back at Rocket, she was thankful he decided to stay.

[nexstrik]

when i see you, my voice goes (1/6)

Summary: Evelynn and Ahri had been together for as long as anyone could remember. They always thought they never needed anyone else, and then then slowly learn how wrong they were.

A/N: Takes place from inception of the band to when POP/STAR blasts the charts, and a glimpse of what comes next. Ahri/Evelynn with eventual KDA-poly.

Rating: EXPLICIT. 

You can read this story in chronological order on my blog You can also read this story on AO3

She didn't often call Evelynn.

They spoke every day, of course. Through texts and emails and silly snapchats. Near constantly, during every spare minute, Ahri could look at her phone and see Evelynn's name. In between modeling gigs and meetings with her marketing team, trying to get her fragrance line off the ground, trying to stay sane. The dusky twilight hours when smog hung low over the city, or in the crisp early morning when one or both of them should have been in bed.

Long distance coupled with the burden of their profession might have killed any other relationship. Not them. Pride held them together as much as devotion. They ran together like a pair of mated wolves. Nothing and no one else was big enough to take either of them down, or replace them.

"Gumiho." Evelynn's smoky voice purred in greeting. "Not that I don't love hearing your voice, but what time is it over there?"

Every conversation these days started with that question. Fifteen years later and Evelynn was still trying to mother her. "The sun's been up for thirty minutes." Ahri looked out her hotel room window, twirling a strand of hair around one finger. "Is this a good time to talk? What time is it for you?"

"Six in the afternoon."

"Oh, so you just woke up."

"Bitch." Evelynn said it as fondly as any other pet name, completely devoid of any bite. "Did you need something or are you wasting my mobile data just to insult me?"

Biting her lip, Ahri tried to find the words. As with everything else, she had practiced for this. But with Evelynn, things never went according to plan. That's what made this so difficult. Even if she objectively knew Evelynn would drop everything for her at a moment's notice, there was no way to soften what she was about to ask.

She didn't often call Evelynn, but she knew this wasn't a conversation she wanted to have over text.

"Do you remember..." She started, then stopped. Pacing her hotel room, Ahri felt like a caged animal. Shaking her head, she tried again. "Are you working on anything right now? Wait, dumb question. Of course you are."

That's why she was in New York, currently, while Ahri stayed in Seoul. While her public-facing persona suffered a blow, her career as a lyricist was still thriving in the shadows. But Evelynn didn't go out much these days, not anymore. Not even in a strange city. Not after what happened.

"Some sweet little thing needed to consult me for her new single." Evelynn's laugh was muted, something low in her chest that never fully managed to claw its way free. "But once I'm done with her, I'm all yours."

"You're always mine," she said softly. "Don't ever forget that."

"Of course. Silly me. As an apology I'll take you somewhere really nice...Maybe I can meet up with you in Italy again?"

"That sounds good, but I need you here."

Tension coiled through her words. "I'm not sure I'd be welcome back home."

"Of course you will." Ahri rubbed her forehead, and then bullied herself back on track. "Listen. Do you remember when we were thirteen and I told you one day we'd be in a group together?"

"Mmm." Her wife agreed. "Of course, baby. That promise kept me going for a long time."

"Do you still want that?" Ahri swallowed. "Because I want to do it. I have almost everything set up, all I need is a word from you."

She swore she heard Evelynn blink.

"...Are you being serious right now?"

"Yes?"

Evelynn's silences often spoke more than words could. Over the years Ahri had learned to translate them all, so in tune with Evelynn's idiosyncrasies that she could read her thoughts from nothing but a careless inhale.

Right now Evelynn was waiting for Ahri's claws to come out. This probably felt like a trap. Ahri was offering her nothing except a fantasy, and the promise of more pain and public scrutiny.

"Take your time. I don't need an answer right away," she said, to reassure her.

"Your solo career is just starting." As always, Evelynn was most comfortable bouncing the focus away from herself. She operated best that way, just out of frame. "Wouldn't you rather work on that than try to lift a new group out of thin air?"

It was a reasonable point, and Ahri hadn't expected Evelynn to agree to this without some coaxing. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little slighted. "I want to work with you."

For years, they had been inseparable. They had the same trauma, the same wounds. Ahri had wrestled the demons off of Evelynn's back, kept her clean for almost a decade now. Meanwhile Evelynn wielded the first needles that kickstarted Ahri's transition, pierced her skin while Ahri closed her eyes and wondered if she might faint. They'd shared fame, money, scandal, women.

They shared everything, except for this. While always closely linked, their musical careers never fully overlapped.

One last bastion— one thing separate.

Ahri was asking for more than she'd ever asked from anyone else.

She was asking her wife to tear it all down.

"I want this for you, Evelynn," she said at last, when it became clear Evelynn was still mulling it over. "I know how much it's hurting you, not being able to do what you love. And no, writing songs for tween idols in America doesn't satisfy you, so don't bother trying to lie."

Ahri heard a click on the other end, imagined Evelynn's jaw snapping shut in anger, how the tendons in her neck would stand out like steel cables.

"You want to be in front of a camera again, and not covered in blood this time. You want to sing and you want to be on stage." Sitting down on the edge of her bed, Ahri stared at herself in the mirror. She looked hungry, or so she thought. She felt hungry most days, for something more than what her restricted diet forbade. "If you're with me, and maybe two or three other girls, we can be a buffer."

Evelynn just sounded darkly amused. "You think you can dazzle the media enough to make them forget? They'll turn their eyes aside and pretend it never happened?"

"I can make them do whatever the fuck I want," Ahri countered. "And they'll turn their heads any direction I tell them to."

All this for a childhood promise? Maybe, maybe. Mostly it was for her wife, because she knew exactly what she wanted and how to get there. All she needed was a little time, and support.

They'd never worked professionally together because there was always the risk that this could break them. But the risk was worth the reward. Evelynn was an uncompromising artist, and Ahri trusted her with her life. It was time to put that trust to the test.

If this worked, they could be gods.

"Okay," Evelynn said.

Ahri went still, eyebrows shooting up. Getting to her feet again, she stepped forward like she could be closer to Evelynn somehow, feeling her there in that room though they were an ocean apart. "Okay?"

Not that she was displeased, but she'd been expecting a bit more fight than this.

"You know I can't say no to you, gumiho. I'll need eight days. Be ready to record." There was a rustle on the other end of the line, the sound of Evelynn rapidly flipping through sheaves of paper. "I have to go now. If this is going to happen I need to make a lot of other phone calls. Goodbye. I love you."

The line went dead in her hand. Staring at it, Ahri could only let the quiet morning overwhelm her.

Then she started laughing.

  Three days later and Ahri was finally wrapping up the photoshoot for her new scent line. There was a relaxed air to the whole thing, something that felt almost like the last day of school. Placing a palm over her stomach, Ahri tried to share in some of that good mood, but she was too anxious.

"A quick break for lunch and then we'll start again, Foxy."

Perking up, Ahri gave her most dazzling smile to Kwag Sol-mi, the art director. She was a friendly butch woman, and Ahri found herself gravitating to her implicitly. It was just nice to have a kindred spirit in the crew. In different places, on different sets, others had often similarly gravitated to Ahri. Her status as one of Korea's few openly trans idols meant certain people felt free to be vulnerable with her.

It was a good feeling.

"Did you see where my water bottle went?" she wondered. While everyone else was eating lunch, she needed to make sure she didn't bloat up too much. "I just made some peppermint tea and now I can't find it."

Just one more shoot and I'll get something to eat, she promised herself, feeling Evelynn's looming, judging, protective presence even though her wife was nowhere near.

Sol-mi made a noise of thought. "Maybe in your dressing room?" 

"I could have sworn I hid it behind your chair." Pulling her big fake fox tail up to her chest, Ahri hugged it tight just in case the mass of floof was hindering her vision somehow. 

Then a cold metal edge smacked against the back of her head. Anger roused, Ahri flipped her hair over her shoulder before glaring back at whoever had touched her without permission.

It was her wife, with Ahri's aluminium water bottle held loosely in one hand.

"Evelynn!" All her irritation evaporated in an instant, her poisonous scowl shifting into a wide grin. Ahri threw herself at Evelynn, wrapping arms and legs around her with a shout. "What are you doing here?"

Stumbling back one step, Evelynn dropped the water bottle to hold her in place, both hands cupping her lower thighs. "Hey." 

"Is that all you have to say?!"

One hand moved up. Grabbing Ahri's tail by the base, she gripped it in her fist before running a palm over the fake fur. "This is cute."

Resting her hands on Evelynn's shoulders, Ahri squeezed her legs tighter around her waist. "You weren't supposed to see it for at least another six months, along with the rest of the world." Then she remembered the very restricted guest list. "Wait a minute, how did you get on set?"

Her wife responded by tilting her head lower, letting reflective shades slip down her nose a bit. She winked, slowly, and provided no other answer.

Suddenly aware that she had just climbed Evelynn like a tree in front of the art director and half the crew, Ahri glanced around her and frowned. Wiggling out of her wife's arms, she landed on the floor with a click of her heels. "Fine. Keep your secrets. I have a perfume ad to finish."

Evelynn had a huge leather tote bag with her. She pulled a binder out of it, all business as she flipped through laminated pages. "Are you almost wrapped up, then?" 

"The crew is on their lunch break right now," Sol-mi said, watching them with a raised brow.

"Good. I wanted to go over some new lyrics with you."

Every set of eyes in the room was already on them, but at those words it intensified. Ahri swore she saw the whole lighting crew lean in, whispering already. "Not here, Eve."

"It'll take just a second," Evelynn said. "Promise."

"Eve!" Glancing around her, Ahri grabbed her wife by the wrist and dragged her off set and towards the dressing rooms. She slammed the door shut behind them, feeling ready to puff up and hiss like a cat. "You told me eight days."

Unbothered, Evelynn just stood at the doorway, fighting a losing battle against her smile. She pulled her sunglasses free, hooking them on the v-neck of her dress. "I said be ready to record in eight days." She pushed the binder into Ahri's hands, before capturing her wrists so that she couldn't retreat. "Obviously I arrived sooner to see you."

A tendril of heat spread out from where Evelynn's nails scraped, right over her pulse. One simple truth that never changed— whenever Evelynn touched her, Ahri wanted to melt into a puddle. Struggling to maintain professionalism, she ignored it to flip through the binder instead, and wrinkled her nose at what she found.

It was all junk. Lyrics Evelynn had written for other bands, some of it ripped right from fansites.

"Is this a joke?"

"I needed to give you a convenient excuse to immediately drag me somewhere private."

 Ahri snapped the binder shut. "And of course I fell right into your trap."

She glared up at Evelynn only to buckle under the heat of that gaze. Evelynn's eyes were famous, a honey-brown so light they shone gold in the right angle. Those eyes netted her a heap of trouble, the whole reason she hadn't set foot on Korean soil in three years.

There'd been a long-standing feud between Evelynn and a persistent 'journalist'. He hounded her in every space she carved out for herself. Online, in person, over the mail. No one ever did anything, and no one took it seriously until he decided to escalate, and she gave him the photo of his career.

With just snapshot from his phone, he tried to ruin her. In it, Evelynn was standing over him with his camera crushed in one hand, her famous eyes wrathful and expectant and blank all at once, his blood pouring down her face. She'd headbutted him so hard she'd broken his nose, and the yellow street lights haloed her like a fallen angel.

Public opinion shattered in one of three ways. Either you felt the creep got what he deserved, you thought she was a violent psycho who deserved to burn, or you repeatedly and eagerly requested that she headbutt you next. 

It was the only scandal that gave Evelynn reason to pause. To assess herself, and wonder exactly who she was, and what kind of image she wanted to present to the world. As with everything, she refused to do this in half-measure. A self-imposed exile was so agonizingly on-brand for Evelynn, and Ahri hated every second of it. Even so, she'd never tried to change Evelynn's mind until now.

"So rude," Evelynn lamented. "I fly across the globe at your command and I'm greeted with accusations instead of kisses." 

"You don't want a kiss."

Her grin turned razor sharp, gold eyes widening. "...You're right."

Instinctively Ahri found herself backing up a step.

"No, no, gumiho." Evelynn slunk closer, hips swaying, hypnotizing. Every move calculated. Even when Ahri closed her eyes the temptation was there, Evelynn burned into them like the flash of camera lights. "Don't run away from me." 

Everyone else does, was left unspoken. Not you.

"I'm not."

But she was, more small steps backward until the edge of her vanity table hit the small of her back.

Warmth pooled over her hip, Evelynn's hand hot through the skin-tight fabric of her dress as she pulled her fake fox tail off. Evelynn kept a hard grip, like she wanted to sink inside her, grab her bones. "Then why do I feel like I'm hunting you down?"

Ahri stood up straighter, a little tremble running down her spine. It didn't escape Evelynn's notice; she tilted her head to the side and grinned.

In heels, they were almost matched. But Evelynn still seemed to tower over her, craning down from that great distance to nuzzle her face against Ahri's neck, inhaling deep. "It must be because every time I look at you I just want to eat you up." 

"You make it," Ahri said, and hated how breathless she sounded, "Very hard to stay on track when I'm supposed to be working."

"They won't miss you," Evelynn promised her, standing close enough that Ahri could feel the vibration of every word in her chest. "Not as badly as I did."

You're the one who left, she wanted to snap, but that was terribly unfair. Evelynn wanted to disappear for a while, in order to focus on where exactly her career would go next. It wasn't as though they never saw each other, it was just...

It was just no one understood her like Evelynn. Some days she felt like a doll, limbs ripped apart with the sockets and joints exposed. She was just pieces. Skin. Eyes. Hair. Lips. Tits. The space of flesh between the hem of her dress and the top of her stockings.

That's where Evelynn was stroking her right then, coaxing her thighs apart. Her palm slid up, cupping Ahri between her legs, and she couldn't bite back a whimper.

Evelynn made her whole. From scalp to toes, everything finally connected together. A woman's body, a human body. Not everything cut up and ready to be sold. Not a magazine cover or a perfume ad or a music video.

When Evelynn touched her she felt alive. It was the perfect high, fleeting and immaculate.

Two fingers pressed against her, the only two with blunt fake nails. Evelynn stroked over her lips, and the indirect pressure on her clit made her cry out. Evelynn kissed her open mouth to steal the breath right from her lungs, the untrimmed claws on her other hand hooking under Ahri's thigh to spread her legs wider.

Even as she molded Ahri together, Evelynn was pulling her apart again. She unzipped Ahri's dress only just to hike it up past her hips, the stitches popping. Her breasts spilled out of her bra, half-unclasped. Evelynn undressed her wife by piecemeal, leaving Ahri disheveled and panting.

Makeup products clattered behind her, dropping onto the floor as Evelynn draped herself over Ahri, tongue hot in her mouth.

"Touch me," Ahri pleaded in a whisper, holding Evelynn's head in both arms. She forced her down, twisting and whining at the feeling of Evelynn's mouth on her skin. She'd stopped petting her clit but Ahri could still feel an echo of the touch, torturing her until she ached. "God, please. It hurts."

That made Evelynn draw back to look at her, both hands braced on the vanity. It wasn't unusual for Evelynn to be cold as ice with her lovers. The distant persona was a part of the game as much as it was a genuine wall she put up, afraid of the vulnerability intimacy brought.

With Ahri, she melted. Those gold eyes reflected every stray thought, nothing left to hide behind anymore. She wanted Ahri desperately. She loved her. But loving someone always meant opening yourself up to be hurt.

And so there was always something terrified in Evelynn when she let loose— when she allowed herself to want— a small beaten thing that flinched at every raised voice.

"Show me where."

Dipping her fingers into Ahri's mouth, Evelynn ordered her to wet them.

Ahri nipped, teeth chastising, her tongue leaving them dripping. She savored the sensation of being filled before pulling them between her legs. Working Evelynn's fingers just under the fabric of her underwear, Ahri kept their eyes locked, lips scant inches apart. Relief hit her as crisp and clear as spring water, the shock of it making her gasp again.

"Good?" Evelynn wondered, warm and smug.

Nodding quickly, Ahri kissed her hard enough to smear her lipstick. Evelynn took care of her, teasing her entrance in lengthy strokes before focusing her clit until she squirmed. Arousal built, so fast and hard Ahri's legs started shaking. She begged without sound, without words, bucking against Evelynn's hand.

Not ready to see her break yet, Evelynn pulled free. Ahri's cry of dismay was quickly hushed by another kiss, and a growled command as Evelynn finished undressing her. Left in just heels and stockings, Ahri braced herself on the vanity as Evelynn sank down to both knees.

"Oh, you're so pretty," Evelynn whispered, thumb brushing over sandy blonde curls. She pushed Ahri's lips apart, kissing her exposed clit. Lapping at her with the flat of her tongue, Evelynn sighed in satisfaction.

It was still good, just different. Ahri had to start the climb from the beginning, though it was easier with Evelynn's mouth leaving her wet as sin. She suckled at Ahri's lips, the press of teeth not biting, but close enough to make Ahri twitch every time. She knew just how to reach the edge of pain, the perfect threshold to make it feel like it should hurt, which made the resulting pleasure all the stronger.

Shaking, she made fists with her hands to keep from grabbing Evelynn's head and grinding against her tongue until she came. She wanted to feel this for as long as she could, the perfect harmony that Evelynn's attention always gave her.

Evelynn kept her eyes closed, in focus and in rapture. Lost in bliss, she stroked her hands over Ahri's thighs, forcing her legs open wider. She only stopped to whisper filthy sweet nothings into the air, her low rasp promising so much more. Her lips and chin shone bright in the lamp light, a string of spit clinging to her when she pulled back to finally make eye contact with Ahri again.

"Don't hold back," she paused long enough to say, before planting another long, loving kiss to Ahri's swollen clit. "You know what I want to hear."

Sealing her lips around Ahri's clit, her eyes crinkled in amusement at how her wife shouted. They were both far past the point where they cared if anyone heard them, if indeed Evelynn ever cared at all.

All it took was a few firm, rough strokes. Just a twist of fingers teasing her entrance, and Ahri was gone. She shook, each cry swallowed back on a gasp. When the light cleared from behind her eyes she found she was curled up around Evelynn again, arms and legs, both hands fisted in her hair and her face bracketed by Ahri's thighs.

Evelynn patiently bore it until Ahri relaxed, bit by bit. When she was free she shook her head, grinning with a laugh that sounded almost reluctant. "You get so cute when you're trying not to scream." She wiped her lips clean, licking her fingers idly as she stood up.

Ahri wanted to respond, but she was jelly-limbed and limp, and all she wanted to do was curl up on Evelynn's lap and fall asleep.

Instead, she let Evelynn pull her up to her feet and kiss her again.

"I'm home," Evelynn murmured, stroking a palm over the back of Ahri's head.

Ahri held her closer.

Then Evelynn started circling Ahri, putting her back together again. Meticulous in her own way, she fixed Ahri's clothing and makeup and hair, brushing out the worst of the just-fucked gnarls in her blonde tresses.

"There," Evelynn said, stepping back and popping the cap back on her lipstick. She admired her handiwork with an appreciative head-to-toe sweep, the kind that left Ahri feeling distinctly underdressed. "Now you're perfect."

Ahri glanced at herself in the mirror to double check, though of course she trusted Evelynn to make her look her best. They'd spent their entire lives practicing makeup on each other. "You're a magician," she declared, giving Evelynn a light kiss on the cheek to avoid any lipstick stains.

"That's why you married me." Evelynn made no attempt to hide her smug smile. Instead she shifted to stand behind Ahri, guiding her towards the door with both hands on her shoulders. "Now get out there! You have a photoshoot to finish."

She ushered Ahri out with a pert slap on the ass, making her squeak and flinch out of range.

In the wake of all that, Ahri thought she might be lethargic. Instead she worked like a woman on fire, possessed with more energy than she knew what to do with. Evelynn joined them on set a little later, staying just on the edge of Ahri's vision at all times.

Every pose melted effortless onto the lens, the shoot wrapping up an hour earlier than anyone projected. And every time Ahri thought she might start to flag, she saw a pair of golden eyes burning into her from the sidelines, swimming with adoration that bordered on worship.

She took it, fed off it. The end results flickered across Sol-mi's laptop one by one as they went over the photos together.

"Mmm." Evelynn wrapped her long arms around Ahri's torso, chin resting on her shoulder. "These look great. They're dripping with charisma."

"Do we have to say dripping?" Sol-mi wondered out loud, mumbling as she shut the laptop. "We can't think of any other word?"

She was only a little grouchy because Evelynn had clearly broken onto the set just to fuck her wife. But at the same time, she couldn't argue with the finished product. So she instead slid a stack of paper into Evelynn's hands.

Evelynn's voice dropped ten degrees. "....What... is this?"

"An NDA," Sol-mi and Ahri said at the same time.

"A what?"

Ahri crossed her arms, jutting one hip out, her tone imperious. "If you want in on my private photoshoots, you need to follow the same rules as everyone else. So sign them, or else you will hear from my lawyers." 

"Seriously? I'm your wife!"

"Well, my lawyers could fix that, too."

"Gumiho!"

  Evelynn sulked the entire drive home.

"You're so mean to me," she lamented, slumping in her seat as much as she could while driving. "And I'm nothing except the most perfect and caring spouse."

"It's just smart business practice, baby." Pulling her legs up under her, Ahri undid her heels and toed them off. She sighed in relief, wiggling her feet once they were free before turning back to her wife. "Don't tell me you're still mad."

"I don't like contracts being thrust at me without warning."

Reaching over, she trailed her nail over the curve of Evelynn's ear, smiling when she twitched away. "Don't worry. You'll have plenty of time to go over the next one."

That piqued her interest. Evelynn tore her eyes from the road just for a moment, curiosity glinting gold-bright in her eyes.

"We start as soon as we get home. I have something to show you." She dropped her hand on Evelynn's lap, fingers tucking under the hem of her dress to touch warm flesh. Evelynn's hips shifted slightly, her body responding on instinct. "Right after I pay you back for that little stunt in my dressing room."

When Ahri touched her, she was already wet. A low exhale escaped her as Evelynn clutched the wheel tighter, eyes focused stalwartly ahead. The car engine hummed louder, Evelynn's tension translating to a lead foot. It seemed to surround them as if the noise came from Evelynn herself. A low rumble. Almost a purr, not quite a roar.

"Stop that," Evelynn muttered at last, between grit teeth, and Ahri withdrew. She sank back into her seat, dragging her tongue over the length of her fingers. "You're bad."

"If I don't get at you while you're distracted, you try to take over," Ahri complained, pulling her blonde hair over one shoulder so she could play with it. Idly she started working it into a braid, musing out loud. "I like being in charge sometimes, you know."

"Do I know. Sweetheart, the bedroom is the only place you aren't in charge."

Ahri's face scrunched up in a smirk, falsely sweet and childishly mean. So Evelynn reached over and flicked her nose.

"Ow!"

Past the guarded gate to their home, safe in the garage with the doors surrounding them, Evelynn clicked Ahri's seatbelt free and then bodily dragged the other woman onto her lap.

"Now, what did you want to show me?"

  The two of them had never worked together professionally before, so Ahri was a little nervous at first. But it quickly fell into place alongside every other aspect of their life. They understood each other intuitively, often better than they understood themselves. Chattering about their plans took up most of their mornings. As they wrapped up their other obligations, and as Evelynn slowly reintegrated back into Korean society, they discovered something important. 

They liked being coworkers.

Over breakfast, they went over more of their options. "I'm so glad we decided to do this." Ahri propped her elbows on the counter, wiggling on the bar stool. "What've you got for me today?"

Evelynn hummed in agreement. When she kissed her, she tasted like bitter black coffee. "Just listen."

Linking her phone to the wireless speakers in their kitchen, Evelynn searched through a few tracks before landing on the one she wanted. Pressing play, she savored her coffee with a pleased expression.

Ahri closed her eyes in concentration, frowning slightly. The melody was muted, but haunting. She wondered what exactly she was supposed to be listening for when the vocals started. The very first note stretched out like a violin chord, a low wail that vibrated through her entire body.

Buzzed, Ahri's eyes flew open to see Evelynn more smug than ever.

"Who is that?" she demanded, just a little breathless. She snatched up Evelynn's phone, reading that name out loud. "Kai'sa? How do we know her? How have I not heard her before now?"

"You might know her better from some of her choreography," Evelynn said. "That's where she's most comfortable. Musically she's resistant to being shackled down, so nobody's ever signed her on. She likes keeping it indie. But she's got a voice like—"

Ahri didn't let her finish. "Like an angel."

"Mmm. Usually. She can get brassy as an alto sax when she's in the mood."

Something about Evelynn's tight smile made Ahri do a double-take.

"Oh," Ahri said. "So we know her. Do you feel comfortable having a lover on the same team as your wife?"

"Ex-lover. If we excluded people I've slept with, we'd have nobody left in the business."

Ahri rolled her eyes. "Don't exaggerate."

Still, she could see why Evelynn had brought Kai'sa to her attention. The song itself wasn't to Ahri's taste; It was a little too blue and sweeping. But Kai'sa's operatic quality made her extremely attractive. Later that week they set up a meeting since Kai'sa was in town, only partly because Evelynn wanted to see her old friend.

"We need to make sure she meshes with our vibe. We're the opposite of indie, so she might not be on board."

"Just try not to fuck her unless we know contracts are off the table," Ahri said, with some amusement.

Evelynn's hand flew to her chest, gasping in shock. "I'd never fuck someone on their own contract! Give me some credit."

"That's not what I—" Ahri stopped at the sharp smile on Evelynn's face. "Hmm. Okay, you're negging me. That's fine."

Her wife moved around the counter, wrapping one arm around Ahri's waist. "Oh, sweetie. Do you not know what negging is? I don't think you know what that word means."

"I know when you're grating my nerves on purpose," she said, squeezing Evelynn's hand to let her know she was only joking.

"Well it's like my dad always used to say." Evelynn quickly swapped to English. "Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen."

"That's gross. You're gross."

Laughter, their usual biting back-and-forth, kept them distracted from their nerves. As things turned out, they needn't have worried.

  Kai'sa had black hair when Ahri first met her. She walked into her living room after a quick shopping trip, not expecting to find a stranger on the couch. The meeting officially wasn't supposed to happen for another hour, and Evelynn hadn't warned her the other woman arrived early.

Stopping in her tracks, Ahri couldn't even muster up shock, much less anger at the intrusion.

The woman appeared asleep, eyes closed and cheek resting on one arm. With her legs curled up under her, dressed in all black leather and lace, Kai'sa looked a bit like a wandering, dreamy forest spirit. Sensing another presence in the room, or maybe feeling Ahri's stare, Kai'sa slowly opened her eyes. They were a shade of blue so intense Ahri mistook them for purple contacts.

"Oh!" Kai'sa smiled, shoulders hunching in apology. "Hi! You must be Ahri. Your wife let me in, sorry if I startled you."

"It's no problem," Ahri said, quickly connecting the voice to this face. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Kai'sa."

"Me, too!"

When Kai'sa stood up, Ahri had to fight the urge to take a step back. She was tall, almost as tall as Evelynn in heels. Watching her was like watching a dark flower unfurl, every movement somehow graceful and transformative. Just getting to her feet netted a change, liquid almost, from a spindly-legged fawn curled up on her couch to something looming and large and covered in shadows.

Oh no, Ahri thought in distress. She's hot and nice.

A devastating combination.

"You like her," Evelynn crooned later that night.

"We need her for the band," Ahri said firmly.

"Yeah," Evelynn drifted closer in their bed. "But you like her. Want me to tell you what she's into?"

Normally, Ahri would have played along. There wasn't any point in pretending that Kai'sa wasn't her type, that she wasn't... devastatingly attractive. But Ahri pressed a finger to Evelynn's lips instead, forcing her to be serious. "We can't do this, Eve."

Falling silent, Evelynn kissed Ahri's finger, waiting for her to continue. They both lay on their side, facing each other. Occasionally Evelynn's leg snuck out, toes stroking over Ahri's calf to maintain contact.

"Bands have broken up over less. Best friends have become enemies, to say nothing of how messy a romance would be." Ahri kept her voice firm. "So we won't. Not even as a joke. Okay?"

Evelynn easily agreed. "Kai'sa is off limits. Should we add that to the contract?"

It was another joke, but Ahri still wasn't in the mood for it. It almost felt like an accusation, and she curled in on herself at the mere thought. "We're better than the shitty old men who signed us on, Eve. No dating clauses in our contracts." She spat the words out.

Again Evelynn agreed, taking both of Ahri's hands. Pushing them into fists, she brought them to her lips and kissed them in apology. "Then we'll just have to trust each other."

Ahri finally smiled. "Easy."

 "Two more," Ahri said.

"One more," Evelynn responded.

"Five's a good number."

Evelynn just looked at her, hair bunched up on top of her head in a messy bun. They were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, the gym sweltering.

"One more," she said again.

Ahri smiled helplessly, one hand on her hip. "...One more."

  Ahri knew who she wanted, but it would take some convincing to get Evelynn to consider it. Virality did not impress Evelynn. As she succinctly pointed out, people could go viral by literally eating shit. It took something stronger to sway their diva. As Kai'sa and Ahri tried to find their fourth, they knew only a true artist would please her.

"She's so picky," Kai'sa said, lounging casually on their couch once more. But this time she rested her head on Ahri's lap, affectionate and physical as a cat. "I love it."

When Kai'sa stretched, the hem of her shirt rode up a bit. Vicious marks kissed her pale skin; Ahri traced them with her fingernail, each one angry red and familiar. Evelynn had a flogger with a custom tongue, one that could leave the perfect imprint of a heart behind when wielded by an expert hand. "I see my wife left an impression on you."

"Yeah, she's inspiring."

"Not what I meant." Eyebrow cocked, Ahri pulled up Kai'sa's shirt a little more to press her thumb against a prominent bruise.

Kai'sa flinched, half-sitting up. "Huh? Oh! Uh, no, Eve and I aren't like that!" She turned red, smoothing her shirt back down. "I had a date with a new domme last night," she explained, flustered. "Evelynn supervised to make sure I was safe." Twisting on Ahri's lap, Kai'sa pressed her palms to her cheeks, squealing. "So she let me borrow her... you know. Her stuff."

Between the three of them, Ahri wasn't sure who promised to court the most controversy. But one thing was becoming increasingly clear: if this had started as an attempt to clean up Evelynn's reputation, it was no longer on that trajectory.

"All right," Evelynn declared, arriving in the room on silent feet only to loudly announce her presence right behind the couch. Squeaking in surprise, Kai'sa almost rolled off Ahri's lap onto the floor. "I'm here. Let me see the meme girl."

Ahri tilted her head back, frowning up at Evelynn. "You didn't watch the link I sent you?"

"I want to watch it on your phone," Evelynn said. "If I start sullying my search history with trending trash it'll mess up all my algorithms."

"She's not a meme," Kai'sa insisted. "She's viral, there's a difference."

"Oh, bokkie." Evelynn's voice dripped, sucrose and condescension. It was the only scrap of Afrikaans she'd bothered learning so far, mainly because it made Kai'sa light up every time, no matter the context. Leaning over the back of the couch, she reached down to stroke her fingers through Kai'sa's hair. "It's so cute how you think I care."

Reprimanding her because she knew Kai'sa wouldn't, Ahri lightly slapped Evelynn's wrist. Evelynn grinned, shaking her hand as if that really stung.

"Behave," she said, passing her phone over.

So Evelynn watched the music video. Ahri had already broken the repeat button, knew every angle by heart. She studied Evelynn instead, trying to decipher her thoughts. Her wife stood there with a hand over her mouth, poker face intact through the whole video.

When it was over, Kai'sa and Ahri exchanged a nervous look. Ahri had been the one to find this girl, this Akali. Something about her had inspired the same instant magnetic appeal she'd felt when she heard Kai'sa for the first time.

But would Evelynn agree?

After a long moment of thoughtful silence, Evelynn tapped the repeat button.

Success!

No commentary was offered, not until Evelynn had watched the video three times. Gently ushering Kai'sa off her lap, Ahri stood at Evelynn's elbow to watch the video herself.

It still thrilled her, the wordplay and clarity razor sharp. On screen, Akali sat surrounded by computer towers, lit only by the glow of a dozen monitors. In the semidarkness, surrounded by wires, the story unfolded visually and lyrically. She wasn't just an artist, she was a scientist, or an engineer. Each verse had as much information and layer to it as a microchip. Every aspect, no matter how minuscule, was carefully crafted and bolted together into something with more horsepower than a Ferrari.

Through it all Akali herself provided the human aspect. Sinew and blood and sweat. Organic in contrast to the machine, the beauty of the human body splayed out in contrast to its inescapable and unromantic biological reality.

Kai'sa had already chattered Ahri's ear off about the symbolism of the negative space and metaphor in the dancing, though Ahri personally thought Akali could use a little more finesse.

Evelynn finally put the video on loop. "Hmm."

"It's got two million views," Ahri couldn't help but point out.

"Mhm."

Ahri was getting impatient, pressing Evelynn for something less monosyllabic. "Do you not like her?"

That forced Evelynn to admit what they already knew. "I like her."

"You think she's a bad fit for the band?"

Evelynn finally tore her eyes away from the music video, blinking slow as if waking from a lengthy daydream. It continued playing in the background; heavy beats thundered, the pulse of something clawed and hungry. As she rapped, the muscles under Akali's naked skin rippled in the surreal blue glow of the computer monitors. Tattooed scales seemed to shift and writhe like the real thing, the dragon dancing on her shoulder blades. "I think she's perfect."

Kai'sa smiled quizzically. "So what's the problem?"

"Ahri's always been a vixen. And Kai'sa, you're my little doe," Evelynn said after a moment of thought. "I'm not sure I can handle a predator in my territory."

"Evelynn," Ahri said. "What exactly do you think a fox is?"

"You're domesticated."

"Play nice," Kai'sa demanded. She climbed over the back of the couch to join them, legs swinging like a butterfly knife. Taking the phone and setting it aside, she drew Evelynn closer in a hug. "Let's call up this Akali girl and talk to her. What do you say?"

"Hmm."

She stepped a little closer, Ahri and Evelynn with Kai'sa between them.

"Sounds like a plan," Evelynn said.

  A flurry of emails were exchanged, but no phone calls. Not at first. The plan was to meet her in person before anything.

If pressed, Ahri would later admit she wanted to catch her off-guard.

None of them were expecting a Japanese-styled dojo. Ahri had to check the address a few times to make sure they were in the correct location; it looked like Akali's family home was connected to the building.

Twisting forward with her hands clutched behind her back, Kai'sa gave Ahri an almost coy smirk. "Maybe they're taking new students."

"If we're lucky," Evelynn said, one arm draped over her shoulders.

Inside, they were greeted by a graying man, an uncle, Akali's guardian. After a lot of flustered confusion heralded by the arrival of three very out-of-place popstars, they managed to ascertain Akali's location.

She was the sole person on the main floor at this hour. She bounced in a set of tight shorts and a sports bra and nothing else. Nothing except the wireless headphones in her ears, pulsing a beat that they could all hear and recognize even from a few yards away. The dragon tattoo identified her immediately, and something low simmered in Ahri's belly at the confirmation that it was real ink and not just body paint for the music video.

Akali was a vision. She carried herself with the kind of swagger that only practiced physical confidence could bring, equally at home on a stripper pole or at the weights section of a public gym. Shifting in place, Ahri struggled to remember why she'd come here as every flex of Akali's well-muscled body drove her to distraction.

"Oohh," Kai'sa said. "She's so cute. Like a fun-sized candy."

Ahri glanced sidelong at her, unable to resist. "So you want to eat her up?"

At least she wasn't the only one enjoying the show. As Akali slowly worked through her routine, the three of them watched, all equally fascinated.

But one of them was displeased.

"How long is she going to ignore us?" Evelynn muttered darkly, snapping Ahri out of it. "We came all this way to see her."

Ahri set a hand on her chest, keeping her from moving forward. "She doesn't know we're here, Eve. Look at her."

It was true. She hadn't turned her back once, too focused on her routine. Akali paused only to sinuously slide from side to side, humming along to the music in her ears. Even when she stopped to grab a training weapon, she swung it through the air with her back to the entrance.

"Well, we should let her know we're waiting."

"Really?" Kai'sa covered her grin with one hand. "I kind of want to see how long she'll stay oblivious."

Evelynn wasn't in the mood for games, oddly enough.

Instead she strode across the mat, before Ahri could stop her. Ahri winced, expecting there to be an accident as Akali swung her wooden weapon from side to side. It wasn't a sword as far as Ahri could tell, instead some kind of curved staff, but it was definitely made to hurt.

The next time Akali turned to swing, Evelynn caught the practice weapon in her bare hand.

They locked eyes.

Surprised, Akali retreated a step only for Evelynn to follow her. She leaned back; Evelynn craned forward. Even without heels she towered over the other girl, staring down at her with an intensity that almost seemed angry. The movement felt like fight but looked like a dance, and for a split second Ahri wasn't sure who was leading.

Akali froze. Her grip tightened on the weapon's handle, her mouth a thin, tight line.

Slowly, Evelynn tapped the side of her own face.

Getting the message, Akali took off her headphones. Agony's Embrace poured out, one of Evelynn's most popular singles. From Akali's perspective, this might well have felt like the real world and fantasy had collided, the music video spilling into reality.

With a sharp tug, Akali pulled the weapon free of Evelynn's grasp. "Don't do that again," she said. "This isn't a toy. If this hits you, it'll hurt."

"Do you promise?" Evelynn said.

Akali's brow furrowed.

Evelynn, behave!

Standing tall, Akali tapped her open palm with the blunt edge of her weapon. "You're... Siren?" Then she looked to the side, doing a double take at the sight of Ahri. "And Foxy's here too?"

The stage names were more well-known than their real ones. Beside Ahri, Kai'sa huffed in amusement, though she was used to getting overshadowed in the circles she frequented.

"I hope we aren't interrupting anything important," Ahri said. "But we thought we'd drop by for a personal visit. You seemed open to the idea in your emails."

Akali was shorter than Ahri had anticipated. The video had made her seem giant, a pillar of confidence. "Guess I wasn't actually expecting you to be real."

"Oh, we're real," Evelynn said. "What remains to be seen is if you are."

Crossing her arms, Akali leaned back a bit to regard Evelynn. "You're real funny, at least," she said, her smirk unsure if it wanted to land on confused or amused. All in all, she was taking this very well. She remained composed despite being half-naked and caught unaware.

Ahri was pleased.

...Until later that night, when it came time to draft up the contracts. She paced, and worried her lips, and drank too much tea until Evelynn finally took her by the arm and dragged her away from her office.

Thick trees surrounded their bedroom balcony, the metal railing warm from the balmy summer night. While Ahri brooded over the edge, Evelynn uncorked a bottle of wine for them, dry and white the way Ahri preferred it.

"Let's enjoy some alone time together," Evelynn said, the words a promise.

Turning to accept it, Ahri only took a single sip before she blurted out, "I think we're in trouble, Eve."

Evelynn poured herself a glass, uncaring, as if she hadn't heard. "Your diet allows a little wine now and again, doesn't it?"

"Evelynn."

Golden eyes finally darted away from the wine to focus on her. "What?"

"Things aren't going according to my plan."

To her credit, Evelynn didn't take this as another opportunity to tease Ahri. She could sense this was something too precarious for their usual humor, and dancing on a razor blade of trust wasn't a good idea right then. "Okay. Talk to me."

"I started this for you," Ahri said, distressed. "But somehow that goal got away from me."

"Well, I never really expected things to go according to plan?" Evelynn responded, a little cautiously. "They rarely do."

A single breeze stirred, hot and damp. It offered no relief from the hot summer night, just as Evelynn's words did little to lessen her worries. Ahri stayed stubbornly quiet, not liking the truth in the statement even if she loved the reassurance that Evelynn wasn't lying. Not even to spare her feelings.

"More importantly." Then, gentle, Evelynn hooked a finger under her chin and drew her gaze back up. "What makes you think I'm not enjoying every second of this?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"So you're nervous for no reason? That's just anxiety-brain talking, babe."

No, there was a reason. But it was messy, and not in the good way. "I don't know how I ever thought we wouldn't court controversy with this. We have two unknowns on our team and they're not exactly traditional."

"That's good," Evelynn said. "Unless you wanted to make something bland? Play around with mass appeal?"

She stood up straighter, almost in horror. "No!"

"Me, neither. So what's the problem? Why've you got cold feet all of a sudden?"

Because now it was real and not just a dream, and that meant it could break.

"I thought if I was just—" ( a good girl ) "If we were careful, maybe things wouldn't..." ( no one would want to hurt us ).

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

That was going to happen regardless. Evelynn had few friends in the media. Even if that photographer deserved what he got, even if it was worth the lawsuit and the settlement, nobody was liable to forget it anytime soon. No one with a stake in keeping them pliable would forget that Evelynn refused to bend.

Calm as ever, Evelynn weathered it all with a shrug. "A married couple forming a group together was always going to garner a lot of attention, both negative and positive."

That was the worst part. Her naive hope, masqueraded by a bluster of confidence. The worst part was she really had believed what she told Evelynn all those weeks ago. She'd promised an environment where Evelynn could make her music with little scrutiny, and here was confirmation that Evelynn hadn't believed her for a second.

"Akali hasn't even confirmed whether she wants to join us or not," Evelynn went on. "So if you really want someone who'll get the cameras off me, someone polite and demure we can point to and hide behind and pretend we're normal with, we can do that."

"I don't."

"So..."

A stress headache was forming between her eyes, pulsing harder and harder with every passing second. "I know the second we go public we'd be under scrutiny. I just wanted you to feel protected when that inevitably happened," she said. "Whatever it took to make you come back home to me."

There it was. 

Taken aback, Evelynn looked off-kilter. Her whole body language shifted, uneven and wide-eyed. Closing her eyes, Ahri took the wine glass and knocked it all back with a few quick gulps.

"Always thinking about me," Evelynn murmured, pouring her another glass at her insistence.

"This spiraled out of my control. I won't let that happen again."

Thankfully, Evelynn hadn't leapt to the worst possible conclusion, as Ahri feared she would. Instead Evelynn had recovered from her shock to swing right back into fond amusement. "Well there's your mistake, gumiho. Control is just an illusion."

"I can still control this," she insisted.

Merciful tonight, Evelynn sipped her own wine without arguing that point. "All right. But what's more important? Being safe? Not taking this risk, this opportunity? Quitting while we're ahead?"

She finished her first drink while Ahri nursed her second, wondering if it was worth breaking her diet for.

Stepping forward, Evelynn tucked her free hand on the back of Ahri's neck. She pulled Ahri to her chest, comforting her. "Or... taking all this raw energy and completely changing the landscape of the game?"

"You think we can do that?"

"I knew we could the moment you asked me to come back."

She had come back the moment Ahri asked, hadn't she? All it took was one phone call. All Ahri had to do was ask and Evelynn had sprinted back to her side. What more could Evelynn do to display her trust?

Suddenly, she felt even more foolish for needing Evelynn to soothe all her fears. Though Ahri fought it, a single furious tear slipped down her cheek before she roughly wiped it away. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Eve."

Evelynn's body shook with a laugh. "You big softie."

"Yes," she said, voice muffled when she pressed her face harder against Evelynn's chest.

Then she pulled her down, demanding a kiss. Evelynn happily obliged, taking their glasses in one hand and setting them aside. She pushed Ahri against the balcony door, and she almost sank down against the glass panes. But Evelynn insisted she stay upright, her hands fumbling the zipper to her skirt.

She tasted like dry white wine, all her sweetness made complex by bitter acidity. Full and flooding, filling her mouth and trailing down her lips. A wet line painted down her throat, heat buzzing through her.

She pushed up Evelynn's shirt, unclasping her bra to toy with her breasts unhindered. Sharp metal studs twisted between her knuckles, each tug making Evelynn whimper louder, and louder.

An echoing ache pounded between her own legs, every inch of her in agony for lack of being touched.

Ahri moved them to the bed, unable to keep steady for much longer. They stripped naked, all their favorite games tossed aside in the need of the moment. Ahri wanted touch, to feel all of Evelynn pressed up against her. She could have spent the whole night just kissing her, or licking her metal piercings until they shone from the attention.

Shifting closer, her breath stuttered when she reached between Evelynn's legs to feel liquid heat pooling around her fingers. "Ooh, you're so wet already. But I think we can make you wetter."

Bowing her head against Ahri's shoulder, Evelynn nodded, a pleased note rumbling in her chest. There was only so much of that should take before needing more. Fumbling in their bedside dresser, Ahri cracked open a bottle. Then, unable to resist, she let the contents drip onto Evelynn's bare stomach without any preamble.

She nearly leapt off the bed. "Shit!"

Ahri sat back on her heels, eyes narrowing in pleasure. "Oh no. Is it cold?" she asked innocently.

Evelynn wiped a palm over her stomach, leaving a shiny swipe of lube behind. "You know it is, get that shit-eating grin off your face."

But she then dipped lower, spreading it between her lips. Evelynn relaxed against the bed again as Ahri enjoyed the view, still sitting between her knees. After a murmured request, her hand joined Evelynn's. Careful not to get in her way, she let Evelynn focus on her clit while she teased her entrance.

After a hushed request, she went deeper. The resulting moan left her warm in the face, flushed and pleased with herself. She worked two fingers inside of Evelynn, tight heat constricting around her with every flutter of pleasure.

It was hard to resist falling apart under their combined effort. Evelynn tightened around her fingers, back arching up sharply. Ahri kept her grounded with a hand on her hip, enjoying the sight of a rare, genuine smile on Evelynn's face. It only lasted as long as the orgasm did, fading away with the aftershocks to be replacing with ragged gasping.

One more, Ahri thought, not letting Evelynn relax. She shoved Evelynn's hand away, replacing it with her mouth. Evelynn shifted again, writhing eagerly from overstimulation.

"Fffffuuuck," she hissed, making Ahri giggle. "You're so mean to me."

Because she was the only one who could get away with it. Call it a perk of marriage or their long-lasting friendship; either way, it was a right she exercised as often as she could. It was a flex of power, a reaffirmation.

And as much as Evelynn protested, she loved it.

Keeping one arm braced over Evelynn's stomach, she kept her from bucking too much as she focused on making her come again. She didn't know exactly what would work but she could guess, curling her fingers and searching until she made Evelynn moan hoarsely.

She felt Evelynn's orgasm, rippling over her hands and hammering against her tongue. She let Evelynn run wild, trying to stay with her and suck away every last shred of sensation she could steal. Satisfied only when Evelynn begged her to stop, Ahri sat back again, stroking her own breasts and using her wet fingers to touch herself.

At least until Evelynn yanked her back down onto the mattress, nose against the sheets. "Hey!"

Getting up to her elbows, she glared over her shoulder only to falter at the sight that greeted her. Evelynn seemed almost feral in the dark, face flushed and pupils blown from arousal. Pulling Ahri's hips up firmly but gently, she shuffled closer and landed a slap so hard it cracked the air.

Ahri bit her lip, bowing her head again to keep from shouting. "... Ow," she said instead, slowly, grinding it out.

"You've been asking for this," Evelynn said, spanking her again. This one was lighter, a tap on her other cheek.

"I have not."

Evelynn's breath was suddenly at her ear, her piercings two harsh spots of pressure on Ahri's shoulder blades. "Then tell me to stop."

She didn't say anything, but she knew the flush spreading down her spine spoke loud enough. Satisfied, Evelynn hit her again, but never as hard as that first time. It was a slow ascent to reach that level of intensity again. Each slap of flesh accompanied a muffled whimper as Ahri buried her face into the pillows.

By the end of it she was a trembling mess, the pillow wet from a mix of tears and the fabric clenched tightly between her teeth. She huffed out through her nose, every exhale labored.

It was worse when Evelynn stopped. Because then all the blood was rushing to her irritated skin, hot and aching as metal left in sunlight.

When she dared peek over her shoulder again, Evelynn laughed.

"What?" Evelynn murmured, stroking a hand over Ahri's spine. "You look like a sad little puppy." To prove her point, she stroked Ahri's head next, tousling her hair until she whined.

"I didn't tell you to stop," Ahri said, with her forehead pressed to the pillows again.

"Hmm. No." Ahri flinched, tensing up again when Evelynn merely pressed the flat of her hands on her sore cheeks. Then two fingers spread her open, slick on her sex as they moved to frame her clit. "You didn't."

  "The driver is late."

Two weeks later and the three of them were waiting outside of Ahri and Evelynn's house for their ride, each of them wearing thick black sunglasses. Evelynn was fairly smoldering, deeply incensed at the insult of needing to be driven somewhere.

"This is why I drive myself," she continued, as Kai'sa consolingly patted her arm.

Ahri felt for her, but it couldn't be helped. "This guy just likes a certain measure of control, which means he has his driver pick us up."

"And we need him because..."

"Because we need to start getting aggressive with our online advertising." Ahri checked her phone again, searching for an email from Akali that still hadn't come. She remained just out of reach, slipping through the cracks of Ahri's grasp. "We're going to start working on a few singles and by the time we're done, the stage will be set to receive us."

"A nice fluffy landing pad!" Kai'sa agreed.

"Hrmm." Evelynn crossed her arms, but didn't argue anymore, she Ahri counted it a success.

"Trust me, Evelynn," she said, typing out a quick tweet to her public account. "This is going to explode in a very big way."

  far more sweetsounding than a lyre golder than gold

— from Anne Carson’s translation of Sappho’s fragments, entitled If Not, Winter