#no beta sorry

[piratec0ve]

(His Poison Lips) With The Metal Grip

The title makes it sound way angstier than it actually is, I promise this is almost pure fluff I just suck at coming up with titles. And I was listening to music and those lyrics just kinda made me think of the bit with the hook, and idk titles are hard man.

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: After losing power in the middle of your shift, you find yourself fleeing for your life as Foxy pursues you through the halls. But perhaps there's more to this encounter than you first realized.

Story under the cut! Also on AO3!

The posters on the walls were an incomprehensible blur as you raced through the halls, skidding on the checkered floor and nearly crashing into a wall as you slid down a corner.

You wanted to pause and catch your breath, but the faint click-clack of nails skittering not far behind had a thrill of fear skittering along your spine. Whimpering, you scrambled down the hall, turned around and unsure where you were going, just desperate to get away.

Usually when the power ran out in the middle of your shift, it was Freddy you had to worry about, the glowing eyes in the dim corridor to the side of your office eerie and haunting. You weren’t sure why tonight was different – but instead of the uncanny melody of Freddy’s familiar jingle, you heard running footsteps pattering down your hallway. Uneasy about the change, you stood from your office chair and faced the door the sound was coming from, heart racing and flashlight gripped in clammy hands.

Foxy appeared in the doorway with a screech and you yelped in alarm. You’d fumbled and almost dropped the flashlight in your panic when he lunged at you, but you just barely managed to shine the light in his eye sockets. The animatronic stumbled and seemed disoriented, joints whirring as it missed its lunge and landed a few steps short of you.

Panicked, unsure how much time that had bought you, you’d scrambled out the opposite door at your back and took off down the hallway. If you could just evade Foxy until 6 a.m., his free-roaming protocols would end and you just might survive the night.

Hearing his pattering steps rapidly gaining on you, the chances of that were looking slimmer by the second.

You skidded around another corner and froze.

A dead end.

Fuck!!

You whirled around and almost sobbed when you saw Foxy’s one glowing eye at the end of the hall, staring you down. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, you panting and Foxy unnervingly silent. He glanced slowly down at the flashlight gripped in your trembling hand, then back to you.

Shivering with nerves, you kept eye contact with him as you slowly raised the flashlight.

Your movement seemed to shatter the spell of stillness that had come over him, and he sprinted down the hallway. You were used to seeing the action on your cameras, but it was so much more harrowing when there was no door to safely hide behind.

Before you could manage to flick the button on your flashlight, Foxy was on you, batting it out of your hand harshly with his hook. You heard the plastic hit the floor and slide across the linoleum, vanishing into the dark of the hallway as the pirate loomed over you. Your stomach twisted like it was full of writhing snakes as you met his eye, his frame towering over you easily.

You saw the flash of his hook coming at you and screamed, stumbling back a step and tripping over your own feet in your panic. You scrambled away on your hands and knees, elbows banging painfully against the hard linoleum floor, but you didn’t get far before Foxy was on you.

His 6’2” frame caged you in, legs locked over your hips and arms on either side of your torso. His gaping maw was right in front of your face, giving you a horrific close up of his ragged fur and the jagged teeth in his mouth. Choking out a sob, you tried to turn away but the cool metal of his hook caught under your chin, freezing you in place.

You saw his head leaning in, coming closer to your face. Unable to turn away with his hook holding you in place, you squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to watch your impending doom come closer.

“Yer not s’posed to be here~” the gruff, pirate-accented voice of the fox crooned in a menacing sing-song right by your ear. The curved top of his hook pressed against your throat, cutting off your air and forcing you back until you collapsed underneath him. Breath hitching on another sob, you felt a few tears squeeze out from beneath your shut lids, trickling down your temples into your hair. Still, the pressure of the hook didn’t abate, and you were struggling to gasp in breaths now.

“Please—” you wheezed desperately. Forcing your eyes open, the figure hovering over you was a blur through the hazy tears clouding your vision. “Foxy please, please d-don’t—” You weren’t sure if begging would have any effect on the animatronic, but you were officially out of options.

Slowly, Foxy’s head tilted to one side as he stared down at you. The gesture brought to mind a puppy, and would almost be endearing if he weren’t pinning you to the floor, choking off your air supply. You slowly blinked the tears from your eyes as you and Foxy stared at each other, you struggling to draw in ragged gasps and shivering beneath him, and Foxy just.

Looking. Watching you.

You had no idea what was going on in his processors, no idea if he was drawing this out just to torture you or if he was genuinely hesitating to hurt you.

“Please,” you whispered again, voice cracking. His ears twitched slightly but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge you.

Suddenly, you felt furry fingers sliding through your hair, sharp claws scraping over your scalp and making you gasp, before that hand came down to rest at the back of your neck, pulling your head up slightly, forcing you to arch up off the floor towards him. At the same time, Foxy’s body bore down on yours, rough raggedy fur pressing against your arms where your uniform shirt’s short sleeve left the skin exposed. The weight of his endoskeleton did you no favors as you struggled to breathe, and you thought he’d decided to finish you off after all.

Hiccupping out a weak sob, your eyes shot back to his one visible eye, wide and unsure. Foxy leaned in again and you winced, waiting for the agony of his hook slicing you open, the sharp pain of his teeth crushing your delicate bones. The lack of oxygen was making you dizzy, spots dancing across your vision and making you woozy.

It made you wonder if you were hallucinating when the first touch of his muzzle came.

Rather than the pain you’d braced for, it was a gentle brush of his cold metal nose against your cheek, skimming along the side of your face. The fur on his cheek brushed against your face, rough but not too uncomfortable; you shivered at the cold as his nose touched just under your ear.

He was……snuffling? Impossible, since he didn’t breathe, but that’s what it sounded like. Like he was sniffing you, taking in your scent and puffing softly.

You didn’t understand, and you were worrying that you were going to pass out when Foxy abruptly jerked back, hook leaving your throat and dropping the hand that had been supporting the back of your neck. Your head cracked against the floor as you gasped for air, half-sitting up as Foxy sat back on his haunches, glowing yellow eye never leaving you.

As you slowly caught your breath, you carefully eased away from him until your back hit the wall. You wondered what had stopped him, but the answer came in the beeping of your watch.

Salvation.

You glanced at your watch to confirm – it was 6 a.m.

Your shift was over. Somehow, miraculously, you were alive.

Slowly, you looked up at Foxy again. In the moments you’d been preoccupied, he’d gotten to his feet and was standing at the end of the hall, about to disappear around the corner. You watched him go, wondering what the hell all that had been about as your heart finally began to slow down and you caught your breath.

The lights in the hall flickered on overhead as the building came back online after losing power, and you caught sight of where your flashlight had rolled to. Shakily, you grabbed it and clambered slowly to your feet, not entirely trusting your legs to hold your weight after everything that had just happened. You carefully made your way through the halls to collect your belongings from your office, dazed and uneasy.

It was 6 a.m., so in theory you were safe, but after the night you’d had the silence of the building wasn’t very comforting. The sooner you could get out of here and be around people, the sooner you’d stop feeling like you were trapped in a dream.

As you picked your bag up from the floor where it sat against your desk, you noticed something glinting on the floor, standing out against the dirty carpet of the office.

A single silver hoop earring.

Didn’t Foxy wear silver hoops in his ears? You kept your distance from the animatronics as much as you could, but you felt sure you’d seen silver glinting in his ears through the cameras once or twice when he started to peek his head out of Pirate Cove’s curtains.

Slowly, unsure why you were doing so but unable to help yourself, you closed your fingers around the earring. The cool metal against your palm reminded you of his hook bearing down on your throat, and you shuddered, snatching your bag and shooting to your feet.

You made your way quickly out of the building, barely acknowledging the incoming day shift workers.

The silver earring tucked in your pocket seemed to carry extra weight as you made your way home, never allowing you to forget your encounter.

~**~**~**~

As always, you were back the next night. You swore to yourself that this time you’d be more careful about your power usage, not wanting another incident.

Still, you couldn’t help quickly checking all the cameras first thing, checking where everyone was. The band was still on stage – not roaming around just yet. You breathed a silent sigh of relief.

You apprehensively clicked over to the camera that would show you Pirate Cove. Chills raced up your spine when you saw the curtains already open, Foxy absent from the stage.

Heart racing, you skipped to your hallway’s camera frantically muttering, “No no no, not again….come on, please,” but you barely got a glimpse of Foxy sprinting down the hall before he was at your door with that ear-piercing cry.

Yelping, you spun to face him so quickly your chair almost tipped over. Barely righting yourself before you got dumped on the floor again, you stared at Foxy with wide eyes.

His tall frame took up the entire doorway, furred fingers clutching the wall of the doorframe on one side, hook biting into the wall and tearing through the paint, leaving a gouge as he stood there. He stared at you, and even though his expression was fixed in place, you swear there was a deeper intensity in that glowing yellow eye as it fixated on you. His entire body leaned forward like he was caught mid-lunge, straining towards you.

You weren’t sure what was stopping him from completing that lunge, and like a bird caught in the gaze of a rattlesnake you found yourself unable to move as you and Foxy stared at each other, spellbound.

Slowly, his head tilted to one side again as he watched you, unblinking.

Tension was thick in the air as you waited to see what he’d do, his presence bringing back memories of last night and even without his hook restricting your airways you found yourself struggling to draw breath.

Jerkily, like he was fighting against his programming, he suddenly took a single step into the room, towards you.

Without thinking you flinched backwards, the wheels on your chair sliding across the carpet until the back slammed against your desk.

In the time it took you to blink, Foxy had closed the distance, his arms shooting to land on the desk on either side of you with a heavy-sounding clunk, once again caging you in. You stared up at him with wide eyes, nearly hyperventilating as he hovered above you, staring down at you with an intensity that made you tremble.

You could scarcely believe your eyes when Foxy slowly – jerkily and unevenly like each movement was a battle – sank to his knees in front of you. Given how big he was, it didn’t do much to lessen his height. But now instead of hovering above you, his snout was about level with your face, barely inches away. You could see the individual coarse hairs on the fur of his face, the thin scratches on the metal of his nose. You could see the slight variations of the lights in his eyes, lines of slightly darker gold in the gleaming yellow.

You were so caught up in staring at Foxy, you didn’t notice his paw coming up from where he’d planted it on the desk. You sucked in a breath, startled, when his claw slid through your hair, but he was careful. Gentle, tender almost, as he brushed the strands back, away from your ear.

You felt heat sear your cheeks as you realized what he was seeing.

His silver hoop earring, dangling from your ear. You cringed and looked away from his hypnotic gaze, pressing your lips together in embarrassment. Foxy’s hook came up under your ear, in a barely-there caress that caused goosebumps to prickle along your skin, gently touching the earring where it hooked into your ear.

thump, thump, thump, thump

Puzzled, you glanced at Foxy through your lashes despite your embarrassment, wondering what that sound was. Faint movement behind the pirate clued you in.

Was…..was his tail wagging?

No matter how nervous you felt with him so close, or how badly he’d scared you last night, you couldn’t help finding that adorable.

Nervous, but not as terrified now, you took a deep breath and straightened your spine before meeting his gaze head-on again. You lightly touched your ear, just above where his hook still hovered. “Do you want this back?” you asked him, voice coming out slightly hoarse. You chalked that up to anxiousness at his proximity, trying not to think too hard about your rapidly fluttering heart.

Foxy just stared at you, that quiet thump of his tail continuing. You felt your lips twitch in a hint of a smile and bit down on your lower lip, trying to contain it. Foxy’s head tilted the other way, reminding you again of a curious puppy, and you couldn’t help being endeared by the action.

Suddenly, Foxy leaned in and pressed his snout against you, cold nose nudging against your jaw and you shivered as he traced his way down. Slowly, carefully that muzzle went from your jaw down the column of your throat, pausing under your chin where his hook had pressed in.

His ears drooped slightly, the thump of his tail going still, as he took in the bruising he’d left on your skin. Facial expression or no, he looked positively dejected, clearly guilty about hurting you. It made your heart melt, wanting to soothe him; without thinking you reached out, resting your hands on either side of his head. Gently, you pulled him back up until he was looking at you again, though he seemed reluctant now to meet your gaze.

You ducked down and met his eye, a faint smile tugging your lips. “It’s okay, Foxy, I’m not mad at you,” you assured him. That bright yellow eye flitted back up to yours, ears pricking towards you, and your smile widened a bit. “That’s right,” you cooed, “no need to feel bad. It’s okay.” You emphasized the assurance with a couple of pets along his cheek, sliding your fingers through his fur.

The arrhythmic thumping of his tail started up again, and you couldn’t help laughing a bit as he leaned in and pressed his torso lightly against yours, rickety frame leaning into you and resting his muzzle on your shoulder. Without thinking about it, one of your hands came up behind his head and sank into his fur, lightly scratching behind his ears.

His tail began to wag faster, and he pressed harder into you, making you chuckle. So, he likes skritches. Good to know.

Charmed, you pulled back, sliding one hand down to his chest and lightly pushing. He was heavy, you had no chance of making him move on your own, but as soon as you pushed he sat back and looked at your face, tilting his head.

“I have to keep an eye on the rest of the building,” you told him. His ears drooped, head dipping slightly, and you would almost say he was pouting. Suppressing another smile, you stroked your fingers through the fur on the one of his cheeks again, giving a light skritch, and he pressed hard into the touch as he looked at you. Laughing, you dropped both hands. “Really, Foxy, I have to work,” you insisted, carefully sliding to the side so you could twist your chair around to face your desk. “But,” you added as he drooped again, “you can stay and keep me company tonight. If—if you want to, that is.” You faltered a bit on that last sentence, suddenly remembering this was an animatronic and feeling a bit silly.

But he perked right back up as soon as you said it, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret or recant the offer.

Foxy made himself right at home in your space, staying knelt on the floor and dropping his head onto your lap. As you worked through the night, flipping cameras and closing the doors as needed, you would occasionally stroke the fur on top of his head or give light skritches behind his ears, which always made his tail swish wildly and press harder against you, like he couldn’t get close enough.

You found yourself smiling more than usual during your shifts, the company making the time pass easier, and before you knew it 6 a.m. was approaching.

Foxy was reluctant to part from you, that was obvious as he jerkily rose to his feet. Tentatively, he lifted his paw and lightly set it on top of your head, stroking in much the same manner you’d gently pet his fur over the course of the night. It made you feel warm all over, your cheeks flushing under his steady regard.

Clearing your throat, you reached up to your ear and pulled off the earring, holding it out in your palm and offering it back to him silently.

Foxy stared at the earring. Then at your face. His yellow eye flickered back and forth a few time before he dropped his paw from your head to take your hand and curl your fingers closed over your earring, giving a light squeeze before he let go and turned for the door right as your watch beeped, marking 6 a.m. and the end of another shift.

You stared at the doorway for a long minute, face red and wondering if it had all been a fever dream. Then you looked down at your hand, uncurling your fingers and studying the earring glinting in your palm. Pursing your lips, you put it back in your ear and stretched, groaning as your spine crackled and popped. Sitting in one position all night hadn’t done any favors for your back, but Foxy had seemed so content, you couldn’t bring yourself to make him move.

Maybe he’d come to visit you for your next shift again. Touching the silver at your ear with a faint smile, you found yourself really hoping you would.

Yes, it was strange, but Foxy seemed to just. Want affection, and it was cute. Sweet, even, and you didn’t mind his presence now that he was no longer chasing and scaring you. Shaking your head at yourself with a wry smile, you grabbed your bag and made your way out of the building. As you passed through the main area you couldn’t help glancing towards Pirate Cove – and saw a single yellow eye peeking at you through a crack in the curtains.

Breaking into a grin you just couldn’t help, you offered a wave before making your way out the main entrance, a slight bounce in your step.

Foxy didn’t need to worry. You’d be back before long.

[gardenfaerie222]

Get in the Water: One-Shot

Pairing: Elain x Graysen (? sorta lol)

Rating: Mature

Summary: Elain kidnaps Graysen from his family home and forces him into the cauldron so he understands how she feels and what happened to her, and so they can be together forever.

Content Warning: violence, loss of a child, angst, PAIN

Note: This work was inspired by the lovely @bookishlyaries on tiktok! She kindly gave me permission to write this and anyone who reads this should watch the tiktok that inspired it! I guarantee it's a million times better haha

tiktok linked here! :)

Elain didn’t think there was such a thing as quiet in this new life. She sat silently on the bed in the room given to Nesta and her in the mortal manor, no effort left in her body to rinse the blood from her face and from the clothing given to her by the pale, white haired woman. Vivianne, she reminded herself, and she wasn’t a woman, she was a female. Just like Elain. Her hands were curled into fists in her lap, and the short nails bit into the skin of her palm as she clenched them. The coppery, metallic taste, still left in her mouth, stung with reminders of earlier in the day. What she had done. She wished she felt something, anything, about it. The only thing left in her heart was a dull ache, there was no room for remorse about who she had killed.

Murdered.

Stabbed in the back, fitting, Elain surmised.

In theory, she understood none of the people involved owed her any loyalty. They only owed their loyalty to Feyre, but didn’t that apply to her by association? The priestess, the man Feyre died for, her red-haired friend. Elain’s mate. They all owed Feyre some inkling of loyalty. At least the priestess was dead, and neither man would ever have what they wanted. She couldn’t bring herself to care. That man, male, she corrected, owed her nothing. No loyalty, no protection, nothing. She owed him nothing. Not forgiveness, or love, or her heart. She would give him nothing. She would never forgive him for what he took from her, what he tried to replace in her heart.

She was to be married, to a man who never even spared her a glance once all the fighting was done. He was supposed to love her, to care for her, to protect her. He promised, as good as made those vows to her. She had given him everything. Her maidenhood, her heart, her chance at any respectable match if he decided to cast her aside and anyone found out what they had done. She had done it for love. They had done it for love. Love that was supposed to overcome everything, love that would never change. It wasn’t supposed to change. She loved him with her whole heart and he promised her he felt the same. She knew he still did.

She twisted the iron band around her finger, enjoying the cool touch of it against her burning skin. It was still had the splattering of red crusted around it, and would have stained her fingers had they not still been covered in the blood of the man who ruined her life. They weren’t far from the fortress that would have once been her home, in a different life. In this life, if the fae thought about anything outside of themselves. She could hear everything. The slither of a snake in the grass, the clang of metal outside, amongst tents housing celebrating mortals and fae, drinking themselves into a stupor. Elain couldn’t recall a time she had ever been drunk. She had drank, of course. A glass of sparkling mortal wine, maybe two if she was feeling bold enough to endure the stares of mothers sniffing down their noses at her.

She had taken it all for granted, then. The happiness, the dancing, the demur looks shot at the most handsome lord attending that night. She was a princess in that world, and this one too, she supposed. The sister of the first High Lady of Prythian. A poor recreation of how her life should have been. A princess, dancing the night away with her knight on her arm.

She could still feel the perfectly respectful glide of his hand against her arm, her waist, their hands barely touching as they danced. He had filled her dance card all night, a not perfectly respectful thing to do, but she didn’t mind. She felt an instant connection to him, fated, to dance together all night. She remembered smiling up at him through lashes, his eyes like pools of glistening water, crinkled at the edges with the smile on his full lips. He was so handsome, her knight. Tall, with dark hair that reminded her of the warmed chocolate drink her father had once brought her from a ship when she was a child. They complimented each other, dancing together. Her own honey colored hair shining under the lights of the ballroom, almost brushing the hand he held at her waist.

They had glided around the room, her satin skirts twirling around her legs. She had been beautiful, and Elain knew he had agreed. She didn’t care that the face she didn’t recognize in the mirror was now somehow more beautiful than she had been. She had, she had been beautiful and Graysen knew it. He instantly started courting her, calling on her, leaving her gifts to showcase his affection. He was going to marry her, and her heart ached at the thought of what happened after. The night they spent, tangled together and underneath the blanket covering them. The love that had poured from her heart as he kissed her, and then kissed the ring on her hand, whispering his vows into her ear like it was something sensual. It had been. Those promises of love, and care, and providing. She knew he had meant them. Meant them in that moment they shared, and forever.

She could still feel the whispered caress of his breath against the shell of her ear as he promised, “I’ll love you forever Elain, no matter what. No matter what happens. You are mine, and I am yours. Mind, body and soul.”

It had felt like a prayer, and she the goddess he was worshipping. Everything had gone wrong after. The fae, and the creatures in the night stealing her from her bed. Somehow, they were different, those men with wings who came with her sister with warnings of war. They had vowed to protect Nesta and her, but she was coming to the conclusion that all fae were liars, unlike the stories said. The opposite of what the stories said, actually.

After days of false promises, they came in the night. Those creatures that ripped her from her bed in nothing but her nightgown, barefooted as she fell unconscious and woke in a small cell that stunk of urine and vomit, Nesta holding her protectively to her side, barring her teeth and snarling at anyone who looked too close at Elain. Already more fae then human, Elain realized, looking back. She could still feel like bite of their claws in her arm as they tugged her up and away from her sister, dragging her into the mockery of a throne room by her hair as she had cried out. There had been so many people in that room. Her sisters, those fae who had vowed to protect them, the beautiful blonde who she would later learn was the priestess who betrayed them. The red-headed male and the male Feyre had died to protect were there too, as well as what was left of the mortal queens, and the fae king. Some laugh, and some cried, as the king ordered she be put into that dark abyss they called the cauldron.

The first thing she remembered was the bite of cold, and the darkness. She felt like she lived in there for an eternity, twisting and turning in the water feeling something slithering against her skin but never turning fast enough to catch a glimpse of it. She could breathe normally there, somehow. Some kind of magic, most likely. It had felt like days before the cool caress against her body gripped her arms, holding her still, as it finally spoke to her.

“What do you desire, Elain Archeron?” it had hissed into her ear.

“I wish for nothing,” She whispered back, keeping her eyes ahead even as her body trembled under it’s grasp.

A mockery of laughter echo’d around her at her answer.

“I don’t believe you,” it had purred, the grip tightening, curling further around her.

“I swear I wish for nothing,” her voice was still terrified, her eyes still fixed on nothing in the murky darkness, “All I want is to go home,”

It seemed to study her for a moment, that essence of the cauldron surrounding her.

“You have something we wish for Elain Archeron, in exchange, we will let you escape with your life,” She startled, once again trying to twist in it’s arms to look at it, to demand what it wanted from her face to face.

“I don’t understand,” She whimpered, the tears starting to race down her cheeks, “I have nothing I can offer you.”

It laughed at her again, distorted and cruel, something she couldn’t see brushing away the tear that dripped to her jaw.

“You do,” it whispered, cold hands gripping her hips, fingers curling around her lower stomach.

They didn’t feel right. The fingers too long, too thin, too sharp to be human. Horror rushed through Elain’s body as the realization hit her, fighting in the grip it held on her, her tears pouring hotter and faster, her legs kicking. She was screaming, she realized, screaming for what it wanted to take from her. Something she didn’t even realize she had.

“No, no, no,” She begged, the word a prayer on her lips even though she had no gods to pray to, “please, no.”

“We will take this from you,” it murmured, a cruel mockery of a lovers whisper, “and in exchange, we will give you a gift. A pretty gift, of equal value."

She didn’t stop fighting, or screaming, or pleading, not as she felt the beginning of the change. She was changing. It hurt. Gods it hurt. She was screaming from the pain now, the pain of something being ripped from her, and the pain of feeling herself be remade. Her body like clay in the hands of the creature that held her, pulling and tugging and reshaping her in it’s image. She screamed for hours, the pain unbearable. She screaming until she was sure she had torn her vocal cords and she could make nothing but a sort of pathetic whining sound. She pleaded for it to just kill her, in that broken whisper she was sure it understood. She never stopped crying, not until the grip on her lessened and she rapidly approached some kind it light above her heard, and it left her with a whisper echoing in her mind as she breached the surface and was washed onto the cold stone, her nightgown sheer and even the leering laughter couldn’t clear the last thing the creature said to her, cruel humor in it’s tone,

“We give you our gift, Elain Archeron, and thank you for ours.”

The days and weeks after that passed in a blur. She had lived a lifetime in the cauldron, had  died in the cauldron, and everything else felt like borrowed time. She wasn’t allowed out of at least one person’s sight. Normally Nesta. Nesta was scared she would try to jump out of one of the airy windows with no glass, and Elain couldn’t entirely fault her for that. She had lost everything. Her fiancé was on the other side of the wall, and what the cauldron had taken from her, what she had lost. She couldn’t even think the word. The mere thought of her brought her to tears.

Then, Feyre had returned, and the humans, gods, the humans. She had felt the wall fall, and she knew who could help them. Who was true of heart. Who would do the right thing. She went to him with her sisters and she had begged him to help them, and deep in her heart to help her, to accept her as she was, glamoured or not, and he had cast her aside. Like she was nothing, like he didn’t love her the way she knew he did. He had whispered his love in her ear like a prayer days before she was taken from him and when she returned, she was nothing better than trash in his eyes. He had even demanded his ring back, the ring she still wore for comfort, twisting around her finger when she was nervous.

She knew he was just scared. Scared of the war, of the fae converging on his home, of her. She could make it better, she knew she could make it better. She could make him see her again. Show him her heart was still the same no matter was skin she wore, what torture she endured. She just needed him to understand. To see her again. To be like her again.

Her fingers curled into the blanket underneath her as she stared blankly at the wall in front of her. That was the issue, wasn’t it? They were different now. He couldn’t understand, he couldn’t be like her. Even if he did, she would stay like this, she thought with disgust, a sneer curling it’s way across her lips, forever. Young and beautiful, and doomed to watch her beloved grow old without her, die without her.

She would be alone for eternity, because she could never make Graysen understand.

***

There was whispering outside her door, too low for ever Elain’s fae hearing to truly pickup. She gently tossed the soft blankets off of her recently cleaned body and changed clothes, glancing quickly at Nesta, sleeping soundly beside her. She must have washed the blood away, Elain surmised. She placed her feet on the ground, near silent, as she inched closer to the door to hear what was being discussed. She pressed a pointed ear to the crack, and waited.

“… Worried about her,” The voice of her sister murmured, and she heard the inhale of breath from her sister’s mate.

“I understand, Feyre darling, truly,” His voice murmured back, and she could imagine him grabbing her sister and pulling her close, by the sounds of their scuffling feet.

She heard the sharp intake of breath her sister took, “She killed someone Rhys, that’s not something someone just gets over,” Her sister breathed back to her mate.

Elain could picture Rhys nodding his head, holding her sister lovingly, all the things Graysen would have done for her, as he replied, “One thing at a time, Miryam and Drakon will take the cauldron tomorrow, and then we can worry about your sisters.”

She listened to their feet shuffle off, obviously trying to be quiet as to not wake anyone. The Cauldron, gone. That looming presence over her life. Always calling to her, it’s song on the wind like a siren. She took the moment to briefly wonder if she would still hear it’s call to her in that hidden city across the sea. That final link to her past life, what was stolen from her life, gone. She couldn’t bear the thought.

All links to Graysen gone, tied up with a neat little bow to keep her family happy. He hadn’t even looked at her, for her, in that final stand. She needed to know he still cared for her, outside the watchful eye of his father and the fae that eyed her carefully, like she was a porcelain doll set on the corner of the table, centimeters away from tumbling off the edge. She listened closer for a moment, trying to hear any more scuffled feet or hushed voices, but all she heard was silence. That’s when she made her choice.

***

Elain paid no mind the branches scraping at her face or arms, the twigs catching in her hair, or the unsteady ground underfoot. A determination had settled in her bones as she made her way to the Nolan Fortress. She hadn’t shared with Feyre she knew a way in, around the guards where no one would ever see her. A way shone to her by a boy in love. A man in love. Her fae footsteps were near silent as she finally made it into the fortress. It was practically a compound, with all the human soldiers and civilians housed within. She didn’t think she could ever forget the steps to get to Graysen’s chambers no matter how much her body had changed or when her human memories began to fade from her mind and her heart. This walk would stay burned in her subconscious forever.

She silently pushed the door open, stepping inside and inhaling the familiar scent of pine and brandy. It was so much stronger to her fae senses, intoxicating as she breathed in deeply. She could see him sleeping, sprawled across his bed, through the open doorway from the sitting room to the bedroom. He looked no older than a boy like this, the worries that plagued his waking thoughts and creased his brow smoothed over in the world he walked in his dreams. Elain hoped she was in it, something he still yearned for, if not in his waking moments, then perhaps in his subconscious.

She carefully moved towards him, keeping an eye on her steps as she stood next to his bed and took him in. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, she mused, sweeping the hair from his brow. He stirred slightly in his sleep, his brow furrowing, and she leaned forward to press her lips to it, to smooth the worry of whatever was plaguing him. She watched his eyes flutter open, and she took the moment to enjoy his sleep muddled gaze on her face as he took in who, exactly, had kissed his brow before he shot straight up in his bed, moving as far from her as he possibly could.

“Gray,” Elain murmured, careful to keep her voice quiet but loud enough for him to hear, worry coursing through her veins as she just looked at him, “it’s just me, it’s okay.”

He looked bewildered, taking her in, still in her nightgown, barefooted and hair down, loose leaves caught in the long tresses.

“You need to get out,” he whispered harshly, still leaning as far as he could from her.

“Gray, I love you,” She pleaded, feeling the tears bite at her eyes as she held a slim hand to her breast, “Gray, please.”

“You disgust me,” he snarled, looking more fae than she did in that moment. Elain felt something in her break as she recoiled as if he had hit her. She wished he had hit her. The undiluted hatred for her on his face made her chest burn. She felt the salty burn in her eyes as she just started at him.

“I haven’t changed,” She whispered, begging the man in front of her to see her, “I’m still the woman you fell in love with.”

He laughed, and it tasted bitter in the air, polluting the room they occupied, “You’re not a woman Elain, you’re not even human.”

She heard it then, that song on the wind, calling to her, letting her know it was there for her, it wanted to care for her, help her. She felt it in her bones, if she called to it, it would answer. She inched closer to Graysen, and as he moved to push her away, she gripped his arm and they disappeared from the stone fortress.

Once Elain’s vision cleared, she took in room they were standing in. All of it was wooden, and the creaking and swaying gave away what they were on, a boat. One of Miryam and Drakon’s, if she had to guess from what Feyre had whispered to her mate earlier. She noticed it then, that purr that filled the small, dark, and damp room they were standing. That purr the cauldron released in her presence. It remembered her, remembered the gift she had given it, Elain realized with nauseating clarity. She turned, quiet and trancelike, to the man she had brought here who has huddled in a corner as far away from her as he could get. She tilted her head, taking him in.

“This is what made me, Gray,” Her voice was no higher than a whisper, but it filled the whole room, “this is what I was forced into, turned against my will, and I disgust you?”

Something seemed to stutter from his lips, but Elain cocked her head to the side, letting the ache in her heart be replaced with resentment and anger, his snarled words a brand on the muscle.

“I would have given anything for you Graysen, I gave you everything,” there was a calm to her voice, a resignation even with her eyes lined with silver, “you vowed to protect me, and where were you when I was stolen from my bed?”

“Elain, I-“ He started but she snarled, stopping him.

“Don’t talk over me,” His eyes were glued to her face, distinctly avoid what was so obviously taking up most of the space in the room, “You made me vows, Graysen, and you never upheld them. You turned your back on me, you left me to ROT!” She was screaming now, she didn’t know when she started to raise her voice, but by the end he was shaking, that self-righteous disgust in his eyes replaced by fear.

“I love you, Gray,” She pleaded, reaching a hand for his face, but the sting of him still turning away from her pulled her heart further in two, “and I know how we can be together forever.”  

“Elain no,” He moved, trying his hardest to back further against the wall, “Elain, please, don’t do this-“

She cut him off with a shake of her head, nodding towards the cauldron bubbling in the center of the room, like it expected it’s new gift any moment.

“Get in the water,” Her voice was calm, but the tilt of her head and the silver rimming her eyes betrayed her desperation.

He shook his head at her, not even standing, and she repeated herself, “get in the water,” She watched as she started to shake his head again, and she held up her hand to stop him, “or I’ll release this on the humans and you can tell your family goodbye.”

She could smell his fear, his stumbling steps as he pushed himself to stand, but made no further movement, “get in the water,” she ordered, a bead of silver leaking from her eye. She didn’t want him to be afraid, she wanted him to understand. He’d never understand unless he’d been through what she had.

“Wait,” He tried to plead with her, but she shook her head, more tears leaking from her eyes as she took a deep breath and looked up before meeting his eyes again.

“Get in the water,” She ordered again, nodding her head towards the cauldron which just seemed to bubble more in anticipation.

He stepped closer to her, begging as he said, “Stop this, please,” but she stepped further away, shaking her head at him.

She felt the pain blooming in her head, her tears running fast down her checks, “I would drown for you! I did drown for you!” her voice broke on that memory, that pain she refused to speak about, “Your wife and your son drowned and you won’t do the same for us?” She didn’t even know if he could understand the words pushing through her sobs as she took him in, as her heart broke, “We DIED!” She cried, the rage bubbling in her gut exploding.

“No!” Graysen’s voice broke, stepping closer to grip her arms.

“Get in the water!” Her voice was still raised, her soul still pouring out through the tears flowing furiously from her eyes.

“A Son?” He wept, stepping close enough to grasp her upper arms, and placing his back to the cauldron.

She pressed against his shoulders, forcing him against the lip of the cauldron, “GET IN THE WATER!” she screamed, pain and heartbreak written across her face. The life she would have had with her child lost in the same depths she lost her humanity in. Then, she pushed, her fae strength overpowering him as he lost his balance and tumbled backwards into the inky, bubbling depths.

She didn’t know how long to leave him in it, how long she had been in the cauldron. She couldn’t take it much longer, the ache of being alone in the room with this thing, no one to comfort her or to care for her, and after a few minutes she pushed the lip to dump it over, and in a torrent of waves crashing against the walls of the small room, Graysen fell out with it. She breathed a sigh of relief, rushing to his side. She gripped him in her arms, smiling as she called him name, but he was cold, and his eyes didn’t flutter open as she shook his shoulder. She shook him again, harder, and then again, calling his name over and over with a more frantic need each time. He never responded, and he stayed cold.

That was when Elain let loose a gut wrenching, heart piercing scream.

Note: Sorry if it starts getting a bit loopy towards the end, I wrote this all in one sitting and finished at 1 in the morning haha. I hope whoever reads this thoroughly enjoyed my take! Also I couldn't for the life of my figure out if the cauldron fell over on it's own or if it was pushed over and I didn't want to go grab my ACOMAF book so sorry for inconstancies if there is any! Also can't remember if Ianthe is in the throne room when the sisters get turned so if that's wrong too I'm sorry!

Thank you so much for reading!!

[villainbait]

Exclusive Favors

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: who did this to you, hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, brief violence mentions, angst, canon sylus behavior, blood mentions, kissing if you squint Summary: You barely survived a night on your own in the N109 Zone without the watchful gaze of certain Onychinus leader, but at what cost? Word Count: 1.5k

The dull sound of your door closing was like the snap of a final curtain call falling into place and you slumped against it, relieved to be safely in your own apartment. You had survived a night in the N109 Zone on your own, but it had been a near miss. One you wouldn’t be repeating, especially since the intel you wanted had been a bust, anyway. 

You touched your side, your breathing uneven, and you wince. You definitely have a cracked rib. You try to take a deep breath and pain radiates from your chest into your stomach, making you a little nauseous. Okay, maybe two.

You were trying to psych yourself up to move and trudge into your apartment to give yourself much needed medical attention when the reverberating shock of someone's forceful knock bounced you against your door-frame. You consider not answering the insistent caller on the other side, but a muffled, familiar baritone floats through the door.

"Open the door, sweetie."

A sigh left your lips at the demand and you tried to stifle the pathetic, painful whimper that your exasperation cost you. Of all the people on the other side of that door, Sylus was the most unexpected. Or maybe not, considering he boasted that he knew everything that went on in his territory. Maybe that’s why he was here and if it was, he wouldn’t leave until his curiosity was satisfied.

The door cracks open and you stare up at him through the hole you made, reluctant to allow him entrance and to partially block his view of the damage those thugs had caused when they mugged you in the alleyway earlier tonight. However, Sylus’s easy smile is nowhere to be found and the frown lines on his forehead are the deepest you've ever seen them. His large hand wraps around the door-frame so you can’t close it again and he pushes gently against it, but you don’t budge. 

"Who did this to you?" His tone is dangerously low.

You ignore his question, instead poking your head out to look down the deserted hallway of your apartment building. "Why are you here? It's dangerous." It was risky for Sylus to wander around Linkon City normally, even if he claimed many people didn't know what he actually looked like. However, the Hunter’s Association did and your building was crawling with employees at all hours of the day and night.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I got worried."

Oh right, you had forgotten they had taken that too. You sighed again, the pain of having to replace everything beginning to give you a headache. That key charm Zayne had given you for your birthday was perhaps the worst thing to have lost, maybe more than the phone itself.

"Let me in, kitten." Sylus’s voice is gently cajoling and you concede because you're too tired to argue with him tonight. So you open the door and  try to act normal, but your voice is far too lighthearted for how heavy your legs feel as you trudge into the apartment. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles and people really will think you’re an old man.” 

He follows you in with a small chuckle, his eyes bouncing around the room as if the perpetrators could be hiding in the shadows. When you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down to tend to your injuries, Sylus was suddenly there, kneeling in front of you. His hands push yours out of the way and he silently takes over the job of nurse, and you think about fighting him as you watch him roll up his shirtsleeves but realize you were just too exhausted to care. 

“What happened?” He asks eventually and you realize you will have to tell him something. Lying won’t work, he’ll find out if he didn’t already know. 

“What often happens when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time in the N109 Zone, Sylus.” You offer with a single shrug, doing your best to sit still while he cleans the wound on your arm. “You know that better than me.” 

“Were you wearing–” he was referring to the brooch that signified your status as protected. 

“They took that too.” His hands stilled on the bandage he was applying on your forearm. “Did they, now?” he murmured silkily and you saw a muscle in his jaw tick, though his expression was partially obscured by his unruly hair. “After all that trouble I went through, too.” You tried to make a joke to ease the tension which earned you a soft amused twitch of Sylus’s lips. He was too angry to truly smile and you could feel it radiating off of him in waves. Despite that, his hands were painstakingly gentle as he touched what was clearly a blossoming bruise around your wrist. Sylus’s tender touch lingers on your injuries and he checks each one with a thoroughness that feels as if he’s memorizing exactly where you were hurt. 

He orders some of your favorite food, helps you get cleaned up, and tucks you into your bed. He points to the notepad you kept by your bedside table that you sometimes scribble notes on when you took calls. “Make me a list of what they looked like, and then go to bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” Before you could protest, he left the room abruptly. You picked up the notepad and stared at the print of the cute little animals dancing around the top. You’d bought it on a whim after seeing how cute it looked in a stationary shop window near one of your mission sites. It seemed too obscene to write what would virtually be a hit list on such charming paper. 

Instead, you scribble all of the reasons you’re grateful for today. Right at the top was that you had survived all on your own in the N109 Zone and you were able to see the infamous Onychinus leader kneeling at your feet. The list grew as you included the tasty food you ate earlier, and the glimpse of a suspiciously familiar crow you saw on your way into work this morning. The page was halfway filled when the pain medication Sylus had convinced you to take started to kick in and you felt your eyelids drooping. 

Drowsily, you snuggle down underneath your covers and clutch the plushie Sylus and you had won at the arcade last weekend. When you hear the distant muffled click of your door opening, you try to rouse yourself but you felt so warm and your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t manage it. That doesn’t stop you from trying until a large hand gently smoothed back your mussed hair, and the sensation of soft knuckles trace the curve of your cheek. “It’s just me,” the familiar voice murmured and you tried to speak but he shushed you. “Sleep, kitten.” 

You swear you felt the ghost of his lips on yours before he was gone, but maybe it was just part of the hazy dream you had of crows, violence, and enchanting sanguine eyes. 

Sylus returns to the N109 Zone and finds himself staring at the “list,” a bemused smile on his face. He shakes his head and tucks the cutesy page into his pocket. You were far too adorable and it made what he was about to do that much more satisfying, sauntering into the abandoned warehouse where your phone had last pinged; deceptively calm. The screams and stench of death shuddered throughout the N109 Zone tonight, serving as a violent and bloody reminder to all that no one should dare to touch what was his lest they face the consequences. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, your fingers fumble for your buzzing phone and land on the familiar outline of the brooch, both in their normal places as if yesterday was just a bad dream. Through your sleepy daze, you realize your other hand is occupied–as is your bed. Turning, you’re surprised to find Sylus is fast asleep next to you, his hand intertwined tightly with yours. There’s deep circles under his eyes, but his normally furrowed brow is smoothed out in sleep. With a sleepy smile, you curl back up to let him rest a little while longer, tucking your joined hands against your chest, cuddling his arm.

You both doze off together, and you’ve never felt so safe.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Continuation to This Post :]

------

It was always so strange to hear adults argue.

Grown up fights never seemed quite the same as the trivial spats her and Dipper sometimes had. They were similar in some aspects, yes; Adults and children weren't as different as people liked to think. Mabel had seen adults verbally lash at one another with vicious words just as low hanging and petty as the ones she'd sometimes see kids the same age as her use. Adults arguing was essentially just a louder, angrier version of children fights.

And yet, there was somehow... more to it. Grown up arguments always seemed to weigh so much heavier in the air, and for so much longer than she'd ever thought possible.

Sometimes, the weight would leave quick and early, practically gone by the next morning. However, occasionally, the weight would stay; and grow heavier, and heavier over the years. Until it came to a point when the weight was nothing but a choking, stifling presence that seemed to fill every room in the house and buzz deafeningly in your ears like an unpleasant static that made your head pound.

Then, one day, the pressure would burst with a loud yell, a slam, and a bang, and start building up all over again. It was a cycle Mabel was much familiar with.

Her Grunkle Ford's "Mystery Shack" didn't have that air.

The shack's air smelled like burnt out candles and cheap discount Halloween fake blood, with a hint of real blood underneath the stinging scent of old wood and aged parchment. It wasn't necessarily a very nice air, certainly not in any way the fresh, crisp, clean air of the streets of Piedmont, but it smelled more like home than she'd ever felt back in California. It just smelled like... Grunkle Ford.

She liked her Grunkle Ford. He was super weird; with an even weirder Uncle as his roommate. He checked her and Dipper's arms and legs every morning "just in case someone broke in at night to steal a sample of their bloods"; he despised overly sweet foods (baffling, truly); and he had exactly 27 locks installed on the front and back door respectively that he could unlock all in under a minute with his really fast extra fingers. He reminded her a little of Dipper on some occasions, no matter how much the latter liked to deny the similarities (although, bar the demonic obssession).

However, last night, the air suddenly grew heavy.

Grunkle Ford had a fight.

Mabel hadn't heard it, and she hadn't seen it, but she knew there had been one. She was an expert recognizing the signs; she could always tell.

When she had awoken that late morning, the stuffy summer air had taken an even more sour note than usual, and had become a touch heavier than it should have been. Either that meant Grunkle Ford had just recently finished up a ritual, or a particularly rowdy argument had taken place; and Mabel knew that Grunkle Ford only performed his rituals between 2 to 4 AM, when he thought the twins were well asleep.

It was strange, to feel that same heavy air push down upon her temples and pound that same painful rhythm of a mounting headache as it used to do so often back when Mabel was in California. It had already happened a few times at the shack, but this one felt... heavier, than usual. She didn't think she would have to encounter the discomforting weight again this summer, away from her parents. Yet here she was. Aching.

She knew Gunkle Ford and Uncle Bill fought and bantered. With Bill being a permanent resident trapped within her Grunkle's mind, she couldn't imagine how they wouldn't. She didn't think even she could keep her cool if she had Uncle Bill as her brain roommate 24/7.

In any case, their interactions in front of the twins were mostly a mixture of exasperated resignation, or irritated tolerance, mostly from Grunkle Ford. Their occasional volleying exchanges of vitriol doused insults and words were short lived, and brief most of the time, especially when in front of the kids. They were nothing like the long, loud ones that could go on for hours back at her house in Piedmont.

Even so, there were some times when Mabel would see Grunkle Ford late in the evening, red faced and tight fisted, stomping down to the basement and disappearing into his lab there with a deafening slam of the rickety wooden door. She recognized that slam. He didn't want the twins to hear the argument.

Even if they could hear anything, what little they could glean always seemed to be only side of the argument, with Grunkle Ford yelling curses at Uncle Bill inside his head. She always did wonder what happened inside Grunkle Ford's head. Although, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. She couldn't imagine the state of the mind of someone who sometimes forgot to eat or sleep for almost a full week until someone reminded him.

The entire day passed with that same, tense air choking the atmosphere. Dipper had dragged Mabel and himself to some adventure in the forest, but it seemed to her that he was just trying to find excuses to stay out of the shack for the time being. Even he seemed to feel the unnerving heaviness of the air.

That night, underneath her sheets, Mabel pulled out the worn and well used wooden art mannequins Dipper and Grunkle Ford seemed to keen on using to summon Bill rather than their own shadows. With her trusty golden glitter pen (that she knew Uncle Bill loved despite what he claimed), she gently drew a closed eye upon the blank wooden face of the little model.

The eye opened, and she spoke:

[dynamocha]

beta Skyla 🛩️

[tame-the-lion-writes]

alpha!slasher!königx omega!reader

CW: implied murder, (and in bonus thoughts) implied kidnapping, non-consensual drug use

Damn pheromones.

If it weren't for petty social sensibilities, König would be clamping a hand over his nose to stifle the thoughts--and scents--running through his mind. In the past, it wasn't so bad. Alphas like him were drawn but could otherwise stand their existence(--at least until the addicting whiff of a heat). But omegas smelled so artificial these days; sickly sweet, like candy, or even worse--chemicals. Perfumes made to amplify the already-overwhelming smell of sugar. More like cough medicine hacked down with two bottles of water. And even a spoonful was far too much.

But the woman across the table seemed to flaunt that.

Silly thing--he thought. Pretty, by all standards, as omegas often were, but silly. Sure, he'd agreed to court her and bring her to a high class restaurant, just as his salary and rank could provide, but that cherry red smile on her lips seemed as plastic-ridden as the patch on her neck. Artificial enhancers. As he's learned in the past three and a half decades of being mate-less, it had become a staple.

No matter, though.

He'd get rid of the scent soon enough.

His date is going on and on about some topic he doesn't care about. Maybe commenting on the scars cutting through his face (though she doesn't seem to mind). Cherry red lips parting and teeth shining, but he doesn't hear a word. There's a gag waiting for her at the back of his car, anyway--and scent blockers ready to be forced down her throat. Did the police ever think about that, he wonders?--how scent blockers made it so easy to disappear without a trace? Stupid creatures hadn't learned to investigate without relying on their nose.

(And even if they had, he'd left no paper trails; he was a dead man walking, at least on paper, thanks to convenient career aspirations.)

But before he could reach on over, suggest an escape to elsewhere--(from life itself)--up came the sweet young thing holding a notepad in hand, apron around the waist, apologizing that the other waitress had clocked out for the evening, and that she was here to take over. And König's hand stops, hovering over the edge of the table, a light, unnoticeable tremble to it as he finally breathes in.

Subtle. Subtle.

Almonds. Cinnamon. Warm bread and butter.

He licks his lips subconsciously, tasting the warmth as he swallows.

König leaves the restaurant that night, still letting the other omega cling to his arm, but he returns a week later--(it's all he could wait)--alone because, "things just didn't work out." But of course, you take him at his word: he looks surprised to see you again, and squints as if to re-read your nametag. But really, he's learned your schedule, the make and model of your car. The license plate, registration number--the address of your apartment. (Of course he has--why wouldn't he?--) Not once have you left his mind. Because you're something new to him, new to occupy it--how strange; how precious.

-- And not too sweet.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

König continues to visit, and though you find it strange he goes alone--the restaurant is more popular with couples after all--you start to look forward to seeing him now and then. König's patient the first month or so, upping the frequency only little by little, because at first, he's convinced that seeing you from a distance every night is enough.

But patience only lasts so long.

He finally asks you out on a date, and you agree.

There's a few dates, really. (Can't have you disappearing from your friends' lives the moment you mention going out with him, after all.) A few dates before it happens.

You can't recall going to his house, or even his car. And you certainly don't recall getting into a bed that smells just like him (--cold metal, maybe iron, maybe from him--maybe from something else--)

You're about to unwind from the (admittedly warm and comfortable) bundle of sheets around you when König walks in, carrying a tray of freshly cooked food, and sets it down nearby. Before you can ask any questions, he's shoving his face into the crook of your neck. Brushing his nose against your scent gland--almost purring.

"K-König? Where am I? What are you doing--"

"Shh, Mäuschen. It's alright. You're home."

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 80

just thought itd be fun to do a silly lil redraw of this doodle from year 1, but digitally and less wonky and small

i have a suspicion the dash is gonna make it look absolute dogshit so make sure to click thru for better quality

[skellyjingles]

miscellaneous drawings i've accumulated over a few magma sessions

featured AUs under the cut

Carnival AU (in pics 2, 3 & 8) and The Sibling Episode (pic 2) belongs to @sm-baby

Monster Labs AU (2 & 3) belongs to @etanow

Western AU (pic 11) belongs to @bananafire11

Angel & Demon Office AU is from an Anonymous fic series on AO3

[sorrelpaws]

a fully completed troll lineup where all the trolls are fully rendered and drawn all together

[nats--sw]

Inherited Talent | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x reader Leah has finally convinced you that it’s time for your daughter to take her first steps into the world of football. This is based on this universe hey, so, Olivia has grown up a little my masterlist

“There are a lot of girls here,” Olivia murmured, squeezing your hand a little tighter.

“Well, it’s the first day,” you replied, trying to keep your voice cheerful despite the fact that, just like Olivia, your nerves were getting to you.

Leah, on the other hand, was in her element. She moved through the crowd with ease, greeting everyone, posing for pictures with some of the staff, and even a few of the girls who were there for the same as Olivia. Out of the three of you, she was definitely the most excited.

“Why are there boys too?” Olivia asked, hiding behind you as you both followed Leah.

Leah, catching up to Olivia’s question, smiled warmly. “It’s good for boys and girls to play together when they’re young,” she explained. “Once they’re older, they split the teams, but don’t worry, you’ll be on an all-girls team.”

You bit your lip, feeling a bit uneasy. Some of the boys and girls looked a lot bigger than Olivia, who was just barely on the edge of the minimum height for her age group.

This wasn’t new, it’s something you and Leah had talked about for months. Leah had been buzzing about Olivia joining the academy for ages. You, on the other hand, had always tried to push the idea off for as long as you could. But as soon as Olivia turned seven, Leah had come home with the Arsenal academy program in hand, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

And today was the junior tryout, and as Leah had reassured you the night before, all the kids would be accepted. After all, they were still so young, just children starting out.

“Okay, they’re about to start,” Leah said, hands on her hips, eyeing the pitch, which was noticeably smaller than a regular one. “You ready, Livy?”

But Olivia had backed away a few steps, her attention caught by a group of older girls across the field.

“Love, are you sure this is a good idea?” you muttered, lowering your voice as you shot Leah a slightly worried look.

Leah turned to you, her expression turning serious. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just… Livy’s still so little.”

“Darling, when I was her age, I was already playing with boys older than me,” Leah said, waving it off like it was no big deal. “This is nothing. Don’t worry.”

“But-”

“The doctor said more physical activity would help her, right? This’ll be good for her. Trust me.”

You opened your mouth to push back, but Leah had already wandered over to Olivia, gently nudging her along to join the other girls in her group.

You sighed, dropping down onto a nearby bench, keeping a bit of distance from the other parents. Leah could be so stubborn sometimes, and when it came to Olivia, she was far from objective. It didn’t help that, honestly, Livy wasn’t all that great at football.

Sure, Leah was the pro here, but you’d watched her play every week for over a decade, so you knew enough to tell when someone had that spark. And Olivia… well, let’s just say she struggled with her coordination.

Like most kids her age, she was a bit of a clumsy one, always tripping over her feet or bumping into things while running around the house. But she had it worse than most.

“Where’s your head at?” Leah’s laugh snapped you out of your thoughts as she sat down beside you, her face still full of excitement.

You gave her a sideways glance. “You really think Livy’s up for this?”

Leah’s smile faded, and she let out a sigh, clearly tired of the conversation. “Darling, Olivia’s not going to become a footballer overnight. It’s going to take work, that’s why we’re here. Trust me, no girl here is better than our daughter.”

How wrong Leah had been.

She cringed as the other girls darted past Olivia, barely noticing she was even there. Your daughter had hardly touched the ball once, and when she did, she ended up on the ground, tangled up in her own legs.

At this age, they didn’t really bother with positions in football, it was just a swarm of kids chasing the ball around, trying to kick it into the net. And there was Liv, hanging at the edge of the group, her attention everywhere but where it should’ve been.

Then came the shootout practice. Leah couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably each time it was Olivia’s turn to kick. It was either painfully slow, that the ball didn’t even reach the coach -who was standing in as the goalie- or a wild shot that flew wide of the goal altogether.

“What do you think now?” you muttered under your breath as you both made your way down the bleachers. Maybe this was the reality check Leah needed, seeing other girls Olivia’s age and finally accepting that football might not be Liv’s thing.

Leah shrugged, clinging to her optimism. “Just nerves, the first day and all” she said, then her smile softened the moment Olivia came running towards her.

“Hi, mommy!” Olivia panted, looking absolutely adorable. Her kit was a bit too big, even though it was meant to be her size, and her cheeks were flushed bright red, just like Leah’s after a long match in the sun.

“There’s my little star,” Leah grinned, scooping her up and brushing stray hairs off her forehead. “How was it, love?”

Olivia shrugged, looking a bit worn out. “Can we go home now?” she asked, glancing at you with those big, tired eyes.

“Yeah, let’s get you home,” you said with a smile.

Leah was just about to put her down when the coach approached with a man holding a camera.

“Excuse me, Leah, would you mind if we...?” the coach gestured to the camera.

Leah sighed lightly but waved her hand. “Sure, go ahead,” she said, setting Olivia down gently.

“We’d love to get a few shots of you and your daughter,” the camera guy chimed in. “It’s important for the academy, you know, showing that one of our top players, who came through the programme herself, trusts us to guide her daughter too.”

The coach smiled, but Leah’s stomach flipped after watching Olivia out there on the pitch.

“Of course,” she said, managing a nervous smile as she pulled Olivia close for the photo.

“You know, plenty of footballers' kids don’t end up playing football,” you said as you slipped into bed that night. “Look at Becks’ kids, for example.”

“You’re really not helping,” Leah grumbled, eyes fixed on her phone as she replied to a few messages from her teammates, who’d been buzzing after seeing Olivia’s pictures from the academy.

“Lee…”

“Livy likes football,” Leah said, finally putting her phone down and turning to you.

“Yeah, she does,” you agreed, scooting closer and resting your arm over her stomach, head on her chest. Leah’s hand instinctively found its way to your hair, gently playing with the strands. “I just don’t want you to think you’re forcing her into it or something.”

“I know that’s exactly what you’re thinking tho.”

“Leah, I just want you to realize that Olivia’s not you... at least not yet.”

Leah sighed, a little stubbornness still hanging in the air. “Fine, but she’ll keep training, on her own terms. No one’s born knowing how to kick a ball, you know?” she said, determined as ever.

You let out a quiet sigh, knowing this conversation was far from over, but you’d let it rest for now.

Almost two months had passed, and honestly, there wasn’t much progress.

You were the one driving Olivia to practice during the week, which she actually enjoyed. But on weekends, it was Leah’s turn, unless she was busy with a match. Those were the days Olivia wasn’t too keen on, since Leah would often stick around at the academy for an extra half-hour, kicking balls with her.

“Mummy!”

You were getting ready to take Olivia to the academy, even though there wasn’t any training today, Leah's team had a league cup match, and the academy kids were going along to watch.

“What’s up, love?” you asked, looking up and feeling a bit concerned when you saw she wasn’t in her jersey but in her everyday clothes.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you said, setting your stuff aside and guiding her over to the couch.

“I’m not sure if I want to go see mommy today,” she mumbled, fiddling with her fingers.

“Why not?”

From a young age, Olivia had understood Leah’s celebrity status- her mother was practically famous in the sports world, always on tv or the radio, with people constantly asking for photos. Olivia had always had to share her mom’s attention with adults and teens wanting selfies or autographs when they were out. But now she wasn’t handling it well with her teammates getting so much of Leah’s attention too.

“Is something wrong, love?” you asked.

“I don’t want to see mommy if my teammates are there,” she said, tears starting to brim.

“I don’t quite follow, sweetheart…”

You tried to remember every time you’d been to Olivia’s practices. None of the other kids were ever mean or annoying, and Liv seemed to get along with most of her teammates.

“Mommy doesn’t like me that much...” she sobbed, and it broke your heart to see her so sad.

You scooped her up and settled her on your lap, rocking her gently. “How could mommy not like you?” you said, managing a sad smile as you wiped away her tears. “You’re the most important thing in the world to both mommy and me,” you reassured her, but Olivia just shook her head.

“Mom prefers Millie”

You looked at her, a bit confused. “Who’s Millie?”

“My teammate, number 10,” Olivia said, and you vaguely remembered one of the taller girls from her group. “She’s always playing with mom and me, but mom ends up playing with her more because I get tired first.”

Ah, now you recalled a bit of a late night chat with Leah, where she’d mentioned a little girl who played really well. At the time, you’d just thought it was Leah going on about football again.

“Sweetheart...” you whispered, pulling her into a tighter hug. It’s okay if you don’t want to go. We don’t have to.” You gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “What would you like to do instead?”

“Can you play with me for a bit?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. She then hopped off your lap and grabbed one of the many balls lying around the house. “Can we?”

You nodded and got up from the couch, following Olivia to the backyard where Leah had set up a goal. You kicked off your shoes to keep them clean and watched Olivia’s face light up with excitement. It had been a while since she’d looked that happy, even though she played regularly with Leah after school. You had a feeling that what used to be a fun activity was now feeling more like a chore, and let’s be real, no one really wanted Leah Williamson as their coach all the time.

“Well, you know I’m not exactly like mom,” you said, giving the ball a nudge with your foot. “So don’t judge me if I’m not that great.”

“I know you’re not like mom,” Olivia giggled, heading for the goal. “Can you kick the ball from there?” she asked, getting into position.

“Do you want to play like that?” you asked, tilting your head, thinking she’d just want to run after you with the ball.

Olivia shook her head and giggled as your shot went off towards the garden.

“I did say I’m not like mom,” you said, going to get the ball.

When Leah got home, Olivia was already tucked up in bed, fast asleep and ready for school the next morning. You were still with your laptop, wrapping up some work.

“Love?” Leah called out, dropping her bag on the floor. “Hey, how’s everything?” She leaned in for a kiss, but when she noticed you didn’t return it, she pulled back. “What’s up? Is Livy still feeling sick?”

You’d told Leah a small lie about Liv having a stomach ache earlier, which was why you both had missed the game in the afternoon.

“Livy’s fine, it was nothing serious,” you said, shutting down your laptop and patting the spot next to you on the couch. “We need to talk about something…”

“About what?” Leah asked, looking confused.

“I think you’re being a bit too… hard on her,” you said gently.

“Are we still on about this? Look, if Olivia didn’t enjoy playing, I wouldn’t push her. But she likes it, you’ve said it yourself, she now has new friends and she’s improving, even if it’s just a bit.”

“It’s not just that, Leah. Liv’s a really sensitive kid. She’s not like you.”

“What do you mean?” Leah asked, her face getting serious.

“Liv’s more like me- she’s sentimental and emotional. She picks up on things.”

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a frustrated sigh. “Love, can you just be straightforward, please?”

“Olivia knows she’s not the best at football, and she can tell it... bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Leah shot back quickly, but you just shook your head.

“Maybe not directly, but you’d like her to be more like the other girls at the academy.”

Leah went quiet and shuffled a bit on the couch.

“My point is… Liv needs you as her mom, not just her coach.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Leah said, a hint of irritation in her voice.

“Leah,” you said more firmly this time. “Olivia’s always craved your attention, and not just-” you raised a hand when you saw her about to interrupt. “I’m not saying you don’t give it to her, but she needs more. Especially now that she’s worried if she’s not good enough, she might lose your attention to another girl.”

“It’s not-”

“I’m not done,” you said. “And I’ll say it again: she doesn’t want your attention as a footballer. She wants your attention as her mother. So, from now on, football is banned in this house.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you chatting about football at the dinner table or chasing Liv around to play, and no more academy talk unless it’s absolutely necessary. She’s already feeling insecure about it, and you’re not helping.”

“Darling, how can you ban a hobby I share with my daughter?” Leah asked, looking upset.

“There are plenty of other hobbies out there. Find something else.”

Leah dropped her head in defeat, now looking a bit embarrassed.

“Is that why you both didn’t go today?” she asked, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Yeah, I think she didn’t want her teammates reminding her of how good you are. She’s a bit scared of being compared to you.” you said softly. 

Leah shook her head, her expression softening.

“And I spoke with your mum... and I’m sorry, but she was a bit angry with you. Said you were being a bit of a jerk.”

Leah shot you an offended look. “She was no better than I am now.”

“But she used to get a more positive response from you,” you pointed out. “You two are just as stubborn as each other, so if you wanted to train before school, she’d have just gone along with it.” You rested your hand on her thigh as you saw her processing this.

“And Olivia isn’t like me,” she finally said quietly.

“No, she’s not,” you agreed.

“God, I’m such a terrible mother,” Leah said, burying her face in her hands.

“You’re not a terrible mother, Lee,” you said, gently taking her hands away from her face. “We’re still figuring this out. It’s not easy, and we’re going to mess up now and again, and probably a lot more.”

Leah, with a distant look in her eyes, let go of your hands and leaned back on the couch, resting her head on your lap.

“Now I’m feeling pretty sad,” Leah said. “I was all upbeat coming in because we had a win-” she cut herself off. “Can I still talk about our win today, or is that banned too?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes a bit.

You heard Leah take a deep breath. With one hand, you gently stroked her hair, which was still damp from her shower before she came home.

“So what do we do now?” she asked.

“Now, we need to take a step back and chill out,” you said. “We need to give Liv some space. Maybe we should find some other stuff she might enjoy besides football. Remember how you used to spend all day watching movies and eating in bed? Maybe she’d like to do things like that with you again. I just want her to know she’s enough for you, no matter what. I know she is, and I’d never doubt that, but she’s a kid and needs to see it more clearly.”

Leah nodded, though her gaze seemed a bit lost as she reflected on everything that had happened over the past month. 

“I just wanted her to feel strong, you know? To have that fire in her. The world can be harsh, and I don’t want her to get hurt…she’s so tiny.”

“I know…” you murmured softly, gently tracing the contours of Leah’s face, something that always helped her relax.

“Football made me tough as a kid and taught me to stand up for myself, fend for myself- I wanted the same for our daughter…I didn’t think it was the wrong way.”

“There are other ways to show her that, love. We’re here for that, and we need to help her see her worth for who she is, not just as a mini version of you to earn your respect and attention.”

As you traced your finger down Leah’s nose, she let a few tears fall. “I feel awful… I never meant for her to think I’m disappointed in her or that I prefer other kids over my own daughter.”

“I know,” you said, pulling her close, the same way you had comforted Olivia hours earlier. “But you sometimes have a hard time showing certain things, so you need to make the effort to really show her. Tell her again how much you love her and how proud you are of her.”

“You’re a better mum than I am,” she said with a sad smile.

“Not at all,” you said, making a face. “I’ve messed up too, and you’ve been the one to help me fix things. We’re a team, Lee. We’re here to support each other, especially when it comes to Liv.”

“Let’s just say we’re both doing our best,” Leah said, laughing a bit as she wiped away her tears. “I’ll have a chat with her tomorrow after school, no talk about football, just us.”

You smiled, giving her a gentle push to get her off your lap. “Sounds good,” you said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Leah sighed again, and you could tell she wouldn’t be at ease until she talked to Olivia.

“Thanks for helping me see things clearer,” she said, looking a bit awkward, knowing this could have been avoided if she’d listened to you earlier.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said, standing up from the couch and offering her a hand to help her up.

“I love you,” she said, giving you a kiss.

Even after all these years, Leah Williamson’s kisses still had that same spark.

“I love you too,” you said, taking her hand as you started walking. “Let’s get to bed. I’m definitely not forgetting to celebrate that amazing assist you pulled off in today’s game,” you said with a cheeky wink, making Leah smile.

The next day, Olivia burst into your home office, chocolate smeared all over her face but grinning from ear to ear.

“Hi, mummy!” she exclaimed, running up to give you a kiss on the cheek, leaving a chocolate streak behind.

“Did you have ice cream before dinner?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mom said it’s a special treat just for today,” Liv replied, as Leah walked in with some wipes in one hand and Liv’s school bag in the other.

“Just for today,” Leah repeated, making sure you weren’t in a meeting with your camera on before leaning in for a quick kiss. “You smell like chocolate,” she laughed, noticing the ice cream remnants on your cheek.

“And you taste like vanilla,” you said, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Me? Vanilla? I don’t think so,” Leah said with a cheeky grin, and you just rolled your eyes, trying not to smile.

“Idiot.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Leah said, turning around to grab Liv’s arm as she tried to sneak away. “Hey, no, no, no,” Leah said firmly.

“But, mommy-”

“Let me get the chocolate off you first,” Leah said, pulling out a wipe and gently wiping it from Olivia’s mouth.

It was absolutely charming to see Leah’s motherly side; it was something you never tired of seeing.

“There, now you’re all clean,” Leah said proudly. “My precious girl,” she murmured, stroking Liv’s cheeks as she wrinkled her nose. “What would I do without you, huh?”

“You wouldn’t be a mommy,” Liv said, shaking her head, and you chuckled.

Leah shook her head and let out a giggle too.

“Exactly, Liv,” she said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Now go and do your homework, okay? Then we can watch some movies.”

Liv sighed dramatically and dragged her feet and backpack out of the office.

You and Leah exchanged a look, admiring the dramatic flair your daughter had.

“She’s definitely your daughter,” you said with a grin, turning back to your work.

“Darling!” Leah came rushing over, weaving through the crowd of parents trying to find a spot in the stands. It was the last game of the season for the kids' teams, and the place was packed.

Leah had just got off a plane from a friendly match abroad, so she arrived only minutes before kick-off.

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” you said, moving aside to let her sit.

Leah shook her head and gave you a quick peck on the lips. “I promised Olivia I’d be here... though I was a bit surprised at how insistent she was that I come,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness that she tried to cover with a smile.

Olivia had asked you a few weeks ago to start taking her to her training sessions instead of Leah, and given the sensitive nature of the situation, Leah didn’t want to intrude.

“You do know your daughter doesn’t hate you, right?” you said quietly, resting your hand on Leah’s thigh. “You’re still her favorite mom, actually.”

Leah just hummed and avoided your gaze, as if the empty field had suddenly become the most interesting thing.

A few minutes later, the girls appeared on the field, and Leah’s face dropped when she didn’t spot Olivia.

“Where’s Livy?” she asked, looking a bit worried.

“She’s over there,” you pointed to the little girl standing second, wearing a black cap and a goalie’s kit. Leah clearly hadn’t recognised her because she had no clue her daughter had changed positions.

“W-what?” Leah asked, surprised, but her face brightened when she saw Olivia giving her a small wave.

“It was a surprise,” you said, trying to hide your grin.

“But Liv’s never played as a goalie,” Leah said, a bit confused.

“Well, it turns out she’s actually quite good. She saves all my shots that go all over the place,” you said, remembering how Olivia would bounce around, not caring about scraping her knees whenever you threw the ball in the wrong direction.

Leah was lost for words. She didn’t want to seem biased because it was her daughter in goal, and she was trying to overlook the fact that the girls trying to score on Olivia weren’t the best, but she loved Olivia’s determination to catch every ball, even if it meant taking a few hits in the face.

“We are calling Mary as soon as we’re out of here,” Leah said, her eyes still glued to the game.

“Alright, let’s put that on hold for now,” you said, trying to soften the intensity in your wife’s gaze. “Let’s remember, this is supposed to be pressure-free.”

“Yeah, alright, love,” Leah said, sounding distracted. You could tell she wasn’t really listening.

“What was that?!” Leah exclaimed, opening her arms as Olivia came running towards you both with a small trophy shaped like a glove and a medal hanging around her neck.

“Did you like it, mommy?” Olivia asked with excitement.

“What, of course I did! Even Alessia couldn’t score on you if she tried!” Leah said, showering Olivia’s cheeks with kisses in exaggerated enthusiasm.

Normally, you wouldn’t join in with Leah’s exaggerated praise, but right now Olivia needed a confidence boost.

“I’d say you’re even better than Mary,” you whispered against her cheek. “We’re so proud of you.”

“My daughter’s a superstar,” Leah said, pulling out her phone. “Alright, now smile for the camera. We need to get these photos for grandma before she scolds me again, besides she’s still mad at me”

Leah and Olivia had gone to the car while you had to run back because Olivia had forgotten her cap in the locker room. By the time you got to the parking lot, it was almost empty, with just your car and Leah’s left. You saw them standing by Leah’s car.

“…You don’t have to come back next season,” you overheard Leah saying to Olivia.

“I like coming here now, mom.”

“Are you sure? We can look for another sport... or any other activity you’re into. It doesn’t have to be football,” Leah said softly.

“But I like it.”

“Aren’t you just saying that because I like football too?”

“Yes, but I like it as well, mom.”

“Right. But remember, if you decide you don’t like this anymore, I won’t push you. I don’t want you doing things just to please me, or anyone else. Do you understand, love?”

The tenderness Leah showed in her conversation with Olivia touched your heart. You knew Leah could be a bit much at times, but you were certain she’d always put your daughter’s happiness first.

[coolerdracula]

more info on version releases here

[crawlingdrawing]

The Cage - Chapter Seven, part two

<- previous next ->

master post

It was a really good try :(

[monteruu]

let's see how far we've come :)

[image id: digital illustration of john egbert, jade harley, rose lalonde, and dave strider from homestuck. they are all laying on a blue checkered picnic blanket laying on top of one another in a familiar manner and smiling.

john is at the center laughing heartily while jade is to the right laying down on her side. dave is to the left and is in a comfortable lounging position with one leg over one of john's and is resting his head in rose's lap who is smirking at john and jade's antics.

they are all in their respective godtier outfits. around them are some lush grassy hills with variously colored wildflowers spotting the landscape and the sburb sun setting behind them. end image id.]

[iheartsteve0704]

Agathario | Modern Day - Separation AU

Nicholas is still alive but due to work, high stress, and misunderstanding Agatha and Rio feel like they’ve been drifting apart and somehow land on a separation

None of them want this but their communication has been so poor lately and in the midst of a heated fight, they gaslight themselves into thinking each other wants this

They don’t know if this is heading towards divorce, they hope not, but they give each other the space

They still live in the same house, for Nicholas’s sake, and act normal around him but tension is high and it feels like they are walking on egg shells

Rio sleeps in their bedroom and Agatha sleeps down the hall (the older woman doesn’t slip into that room until she’s certain Nicky has gone to sleep, but he knows because sometimes he sneaks into bed with Rio and cuddles up with her)

They also somehow land upon that it’s okay to see other people during this time (both don’t even explore this fact because it’s insane but one night Agatha has her friend JEN over during wine night and she tries to convince her to download Tinder and if Rio runs into her room and cries well she’d never admit that)

Around 2 months later, they have to attend a party they greed to go to months ago and get ready in the same house but separate rooms while Nicky goes to their neighbor Lila’s (shoutout Lilia!!!)

Agatha passes by their room and notices Rio struggling to zip up the back and Rio is able to sense Agatha watching her through the crack in the door so she asks her to come in and zip it (and maybe Agatha stares too long at her smooth skin and relishes in the way Rio shiver at the graze of her knuckles down her spin)

Agatha also relishes in the fact that Rio’s eyes cast over her body in their vanity mirror because she knows this is Rio’s favorite dress on her and maybe she wore it on purpose

They leave in separate cars, even though after the dress indecent Agatha offers her a ride and tries not to throw up at the fact that Rio is getting picked up by a friend who Agatha knew had a big crush on her wife

At the party, they keep their distance from each other but their eyes can’t help but land on one another

Agatha stares too hard when Rio’s friend clings to her side as the younger woman works the room (Agatha was never one to smooze but was happy to admire her wife while she does so, now she watches this other woman (younger and Agatha thinks prettier) fill her spot for her)

Rio has to take a cigarette break when she sneaks a peak at Agatha at the bar area, where she sees a guy trying to talk her up and even moves to tuck a piece of her tousled hair behind her ear (what Rio doesn’t see because she leaves is the way Agatha steps back in disgust and holds up her left hand up revealing her wedding band)

After this, Agatha ends up going outside too and bumps right into Rio making her cig fall onto the floor and burn out. Rio has a curse word for the offender on the tip of her tongue until she turns around and sees her wife

They stare at each other, tension so thick you can cut it with a knife after all that jealousy inside.

Then it’s Rio who puts her hand on the curve of Agatha’s waist and Agatha moves in closer to cup Rio’s soft cheek. They’re like magnets, pulling closer to each other, until a car pulls into the parking lot and the moment is gone and Agatha quickly is moving back inside

The rest of the party consists of the two longingly gazing at each other across the room and no one really exists around them

At the end of the night, Agatha is drunker than she should be (considering she has to drive) and is being borderline harassed by the man at the bar who insists he drive her home

Rio wanted to step in from the moment he looked at her wife earlier but doesn’t until she hears her wife say “Don’t touch me” and she springs into action and decks him in the jaw while saying some words in Spanish that aren’t very kind

The words “TOCUH MY FUCKING WIFE AGAIN AND YOULL BE SORRY BUDDY. ILL END YOU, I PROMISE” fall out of her mouth loudly and Rio means every word, eyes blazing with anger

The gross man laughs at her and makes a comment about Rio not being by Agatha’s side all night and Rio lunges at him to hit him again

It’s Agatha who pulls Rio back after they draw a crowd and walks them to Agatha’s car

When they arrive to the vehicle, away from prying eyes, Rio takes the key from the older woman and looks at her with concerned eyes. She scans the woman with worry. She asks “did he touch you? Hurt you? I swear to god I’ll go back there and k*ll him. If he even tried anything with you I will-“ but she can’t finish that sentence because Agatha kisses her with so much longing and passion tears slip from both their eyes

Rio drives them home, one hand on the steering steaming wheel and the old holding her wife’s hand (they are both absolutely beaming)

When they get home they silently agree to go into their shared bedroom, strip down and just hold each other in bed while they fall asleep in each others arms

In the morning, they have hard conversations but it’s real and they need it and they finally understand their problems and how to fix it and laugh at the fact that neither wanted a separation and maybe have incredible makeup sex

After they shower, and do unholy things in there, they end up in the kitchen and dance and laugh around the sun filled room while they cook and can’t keep their hands off each other

Nicky comes in through the back door and sees his moms happy again, running into their arms and they embrace him with equal enthusiasm because their family is whole again

[submastrain]

Beta submas but if I pick the colours from the sprites--

[shrimpchipsss]

read Living With a Tiger by x_los !