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makeitmingi · 1 day

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The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 38]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

"We should take it to the vet tomorrow." You said as you and Yunho hovered over the kitten. You placed some wet cat food onto a paper plate and he was so quick to eat it up. Yes, you also learnt that the kitten is a boy.

"We should but the only free time we have is between morning and dinner service. Plus it's Friday so we're going to be busy." Yunho said.

"I'll do it after the morning shift then." You smiled.

"And by 'I', you mean 'we'." Yunho laughed and pressed his forehead against your temple. Instead of hovering, he sat on the floor and pulling you to sit on his lap.

"There, we can watch him like this." He said, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms around your waist.

"It's late, you still have to drive back." You stood up. Yunho nodded in agreement.

"You can handle the little one?" Yunho chuckled. You hummed, smiling softly as you looked over at the kitten that was rolling all over your rug, happy to have a full belly of food.

Although Yunho wanted to ask to stay the night or thought that you would offer him that option, he didn't want to overstep so he willing got his coat to leave. Maybe you just wanted the house and your bed to yourself since you had all 8 of them over last night. He understood that you needed to recharge.

"Goodbye. I'll see you again tomorrow." Yunho said, gently stroking the kitten's head with the back of his finger.

"Thanks again for tonight." You said, looking up at him as he got ready to leave.

"No need to thank me. Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow?" He tilted his head. You nodded and tip toed to give him a goodbye kiss before he headed out the door.

"Alright, let's set you up for the night." You said to the kitten. You cleared the used plates and brought the animal crate to your room.

"Here." You placed some blankets inside, making sure it was warm and comfortable before placing the kitten inside.

"There, all comfy for you." You chuckled. You didn't buy a cat bed because you didn't know if the kitten will be permenantly staying with you so you just grabbed a crate to ferry him around.

After making sure the kitten was settled, you went to remove all your makeup and take a shower. However, mid shower, you didn't expect a little black shadow to push open the bathroom door and enter. He let out a loud meow to establish his presence.

"Geez! You scared me!" You jumped slightly, placing a hand over your racing heart. But he just sat there, staring back at you with a tilt of his head.

"Don't be clingy like a golden retriever." You said, snickering. Once you stepped out, you changed into comfy home clothes.

"Hey, Hwa... I'm home." You said to Seonghwa with the phone on speaker as you did you skincare.

"Hey, sweetheart. I was about to call you. You don't have to come in for morning shift, you know? You can go home and rest after your morning session. We understand."

"I know but you guys can't keep giving me all these exceptions, it's not fair and unprofessional of me." You sighed.

"It's not exceptions. We're friends, practically family. We do it for anyone that needs it."

"I know that... And I'm really grateful for the 3 of you being so supportive. But it's fine, really. I'll be okay. Working would serve as a good distraction rather than just laying in bed." You said, finishing up your nightly routine of skincare. You took the phone with you as you did your laundry.

"But-"

*meow*

"D-Did you just meow at me?"

"What?! No, that's not me. I have a... house guest." You turned the call to a video call, turning the camera to show Seonghwa the kitten that was now curled by your feet.

"I thought you were only having dinner with Yunho's family! When did you get a cat?!"

"It's a long story. He's just staying with me until I can get him to a vet tomorrow and decide what to do with him." You informed.

"It's actually really funny, (y/n). You compare Yunho to a golden retriever every chance you get and now, it's like I'm seeing two of you. Can barely tell the difference."

"Very funny, Hwa. You'll be glad to know that Yunho's been making fun of me the whole night, comparing me to the kitten. That's utter nonsense, I am not a black cat or like one." You scoffed, stroking the kitten as it sat on your thigh.

"Sure~ Like how Yunho denies that he's an overly excited golden retriever puppy."

"You know what, see you tomorrow, Hwa." You scoffed and hung up while he was busy laughing at you. You picked the kitten up and placed him in his crate.

"Stay here. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight." You stroked its head and went to bed.

When Yunho arrived at the restaurant the next morning, he looked at his phone. He had sent you a morning text and asked about the kitten but you haven't opened the message.

"Maybe she's busy." He shrugged, it was a Friday morning after all. You probably didn't even have time to look at your phone like always. But when he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see your crew already working without you there. Yunho went to the locker room but you weren't there either.

"She's coming in late. Had something to attend to." Seonghwa spoke as he mixed the cake batter.

"Oh... Okay, thanks." Yunho frowned slightly, scratching his head as he went to the front. You didn't mention this to him last night. Did something happen to the kitten during the night?

"Sorry, the number you have dialled is-"

Yunho chewed on his bottom lip, you were not answering your phone or your texts. He straightened up and went to call Seonghwa out.

"What's up?" Seonghwa asked with raised eyebrows as he leaned against the counter.

"Hyung, (y/n)'s okay, right? It's just, I was with her last night and she didn't mention that she had anything on this morning that would make her late... So I'm just worried..." Yunho rambled.

"She's fine, Yunho. There's not much I can tell you... But rest assure, she's okay. But she's not contactable." Seonghwa placed his hand on Yunho's shoulder to give it a light squeeze and gave the taller a small smile. Yunho nodded his head slowly.

"As long as she's okay. Let me know if you guys need any help in the kitchen." He forced a smile.

"We will. And yes, she's okay. If she wasn't, I would have told you. She should be coming in soon." Seonghwa nodded and headed back to the kitchen to continue baking.

"What's up?" Wooyoung tipped his head at Seonghwa when he saw the older come back in.

"Asked about (y/n). You know she's uncontactable and he's worried because she didn't tell him that she'll be late today." Seonghwa said.

"Oh... No wonder he's worried. Wait, she hasn't told him yet?" Jongho asked as he took the cookies out of the oven. Seonghwa shook his head with a soft sigh.

"It's her decision to tell him. We all know how private she is..." Wooyoung reminded.

Just then, you walked into the kitchen, yawning with two big cups of coffee in your hands. Not even saying hi to your team, you went to the locker room to put your things down first. You leaned against the shelves, taking long sips of your coffee. You needed coffee immediately so you bought two cups.

"Hey." Seonghwa popped in.

"Hey, Hwa, sorry. I'll be right out." You grabbed your apron and tied it around your waist. He hummed and went back to the kitchen to wait for you.

"(y/n), are you okay?" San tilted his ehad when he saw you come out, setting your cups of coffee aside.

"Morning, San. Yes, I'm fine. Thanks for stepping in to help." You chuckled and went to wash your hands. With you around, you were able to take over and San went back out to the front.

"They don't need you anymore?" Mingi asked as he filled the machine with more coffee beans.

"Nope. (y/n)'s here so I think they got it handled." San informed.

"(y/n)'s here? Like here in the kitchen?" Yunho blinked. San raised an eyebrow at his question but nodded his head slowly, with much uncertainty and confusion. Yunho put his things down and went to the kitchen.

"Jagiya~" Wooyoung was hugging you from the back, rocking you from side to side with a smug smile on his face. You were unbothered, cutting up something in front of you.

"Woo, this isn't very safe when I'm using my knife." You said but of course he ignores you.

"We should discuss the dinner menu for tonight so I can get started on prep." You told the rest of the team.

Throughout the time he has been with you, Yunho has been learning how to read you. You were functioning and speaking fine to your team but there was exhaustion on your face.

"Kicking it old school, tonight's pasta is bolognese." You smiled and the boys clapped.

"Traditional style, of course?" Jongho asked and you nodded.

"For fish, let's do a mi cuit salmon with microgreens, buerre blanc, potato puree and pickled beetroot." You said, waving your hand to get your thought processing out. (Mi cuit is French for half baked. Salmon is sous vide at a low temperature until firm but still has the texture, look and taste of raw salmon)

"I think we should do a wet brine for the salmon before putting it into the sous vide." Seonghwa suggested and you wrote it down.

"We should do pork chops with stewed apples and blue cheese sauce." Wooyoung raised his hand.

"Alright. We can throw the pork chops into the sous vide machines. If we have the sous vides going, let's do some chicken breast for classic caesar?" You tilted your head.

"We still have those smaller, thin cuts of beef... What can we do with them?" Jongho reminded.

"Let's leave it for tomorrow." You said.

Yunho quietly observed how you continued to lead the discussion on the food menu for dinner. Like the professional you always are, you didn't let whatever was bothering you affect your work.

"Dessert, let's do sticky toff. It's been a while!" Seonghwa was quick to throw his suggestion in.

"I question the personal motive behind that suggestion but I do agree that it's been a while. So we're doing individual sticky toffee puddings with caramel sauce and vanilla custard? Or should we do ice cream?" You chuckled.

"Ice cream is better since we already have caramel sauce." Wooyoung said. You wrote down everything and pinned it up.

"Alright, let's finish up here and start on some prep work. Then I'll continue after you guys leave." You said. They nodded and you got to work right away.

"We'll do the cleaning." Seonghwa and Wooyoung did it while Jongho assisted you with prepping.

"Hey." Yunho came in.

"Oh, hey." You smiled. But of course, Yunho wouldn't just greet you with a smile. He came over to hug you tightly, quickly planting a kiss to the top of your head.

"You want a coffee?" He offered. You shook your head, nodding over to the two cups of coffee you had brought in with you.

"Is it okay to be drinking so much coffee at once?" Yunho tilted his head.

"Nope!" Seonghwa answered for you, making you roll your eyes. You scoffed loudly to show Seonghwa you were ignoring him and patted Yunho on the hip before going back to help Jongho with the prep. Having already missed the morning stuff, you didn't want to lag behind, you wanted to make up for the work that you didn't do.

You noticed that Yunho was strangely quiet but you couldn't put your finger on it. Usually, he was loud and excited when he sees you but today, he greeted you and left obediently.

"Is Yunho okay? Did something happen when I wasn't around?" You asked Jongho.

"Nothing happened but Yunho hyung was worried when he didn't see you this morning. Didn't know where you were..." Jongho informed.

"Oh." You replied, continuing your prep work.

"Fridge?" Wooyoung came over, seeing the containers of prepped ingredients that you were done with. You nodded and he helped you bring them all to the walk in.

"You guys should head off soon, I"ve got it covered here." You said, checking your watch.

"Don't stay too long. We'll see you tonight, princess." The boys all left without argument. Wooyoung hugged you tightly and gave you a big kiss on your cheek, to which you scrunched your nose. Jongho gave you a brief hug.

"Don't overwork yourself, sweetheart, hmm?" Seonghwa stroked your head. You hummed and he hugged you before patting your head with a soft smile.

"The crew just left?" Yunho came in.

"Yeah, I'm finishing up on the prep. After that, we'll go back to mine to pick up the kitten for the vet?" You asked.

"Sure. Do you need help in here?" Yunho leaned against the metal counter.

"Help me fill the big bins with water? I'll need to clamp the sous vide machines and get it heated." You pointed. Yunho helped you do that while you cooked the caramel sauce for the dessert.

"What else is there to do...?" You thought out loud and went over your list of things that you could prep.

"(y/n), why don't I pick the kitten up from yours then we can bring it to the vet from here?" Yunho suggested.

"Oh, sure." You were surprised at his suggestion but you weren't against it. You gave Yunho the key to your place and he left to pick the kitten up. Now you were worried, Yunho and you were always together, given the opportunity. It was odd for him to suggest he go ahead and pick the kitten up first.

"I'm done with my duties." Hongjoong came in, finding you alone. Honestly, he thought he would find Yunho in here with you.

"Can you bring that tray of meats to me, please?" You requested. He brought over the vacuum pack sealed pork chops for you to dump into the heated sous vide water.

"Where's Yunho?" Hongjoong asked, continuing to help you were he could.

"Oh, he went to help me pick something up from my place. He'll be back soon." You informed.

"Are you alright, (y/n)? Is something bothering you?" Hongjoong noted how you were slightly distracted as you were doing whatever you were doing.

"I'm probably overthinking it but Yunho's just acting a little weird today so I'm wondering if everything's okay." You shrugged.

"Hmm, from what I know nothing happened today in the store and he's been fine... You know, the usual Yunho... I'm sure it's nothing, don't be too worried. We all have our off days, even energetic puppies." He gave a comforting smile.

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Hongjoong." You laughed in agreement, it was funny to hear Yunho's friends refer to him as a puppy too. Subsequently, the other boys came in to offer help too.

"All these in the fridge?" Yeosang checked.

"Yeah. But keep the trays separate, they're portioned according to the different dishes." You said.

"Sure." He and Mingi brought it whatever you were done with. With their help, you were done relatively quickly. Just in time, Yunho pulled up to the restaurant.

"Bye, thanks guys. See you tonight." You waved to them before hopping into Yunho's passenger seat.

"Thanks for going to pick him up." You said.

"You're very welcome, love. Are you tired?" Yunho softened, reaching over to cup your cheek. You shook your head, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. You let out a long exhale.

"Shall we talk after the vet?" He asked. You hesitated for a while before nodding, even if your heart was pounding nervously against your chest. With that, Yunho drove to the vet clinic where you had made an appointment for the kitten this morning. He helped you carry the crate with the kitten.

"Hi, I have an appointment?" You went to register at the receptionist counter. Yunho watched your back as you signed the kitten in.

"At least just now when I went to pick him up, he wasn't trying to maul me." Yunho said to you as you took the seat beside him to wait for your turn.

"Maul you? I highly doubt that tiny kitten can maul someone so much bigger like yourself." You laughed.

"He's opening up to me. See? I have that effect on black cats." He coughed, sending you a mischievous grin and side eye.

"I'm not a black cat." You scoffed, picking up the crate and looking at the kitten inside. It let out a small meow and pressed his nose against the gate to try and sniff you.

"Cutie. I hope you slept well." You giggled. He clawed at the gate to show his frustration of being locked up. So you caved and let him out of the crate. However, instead of putting him in your lap, you set him down in Yunho's.

"Since you claim he's comfortable with you now." You laughed, leaning against his arm.

"I said he didn't try to maul me, I didn't say he's comfortable with me." Yunho rolled his eyes but watched as the kitten tried to get comfortable, curling up in his lap.

When the nurse called you, you held the kitten in your arms while Yunho held the crate and entered the vet's office.

"Good afternoon. What can I do for you today?" The vet smiled. However, her smile seemed to grow bigger when she saw Yunho walk in.

"We found this kitten last night in the park, abandoned in the box. We're not sure how long he's been there. So we just want to make sure he's fine." You explained.

"Oh, sure. That's so nice of you to take him in, I'll just do a general check of him." She said, staring at Yunho as she spoke. You raised an eyebrow of amusement at her behaviour and her suddenly flirtatious smile, she was obviously very taken to Yunho's good looks. I mean, who isn't?

"Thank you, doctor." Innocent and ever-so kind Yunho smiled back with bowed his head. He came to stand by your side as the doctor examined the kitten.

"From what I see, judging by his posture, he's about 4 weeks old? But he's malnourished." She said.

"Good that you cleaned him and fed him." She smiled at Yunho.

You were not jealous and you knew how Yunho was. He wasn't deliberately flirting back with her, he was too kind and gracious to anyone he meets. He can't help his golden retriever tendencies.

"Actually, my girlfriend did it all, she's amazing. The kitten isn't too friendly with me yet." Yunho grinned.

"Oh..." The vet cleared her throat awkwardly at the mention of the word 'girlfriend'. You had to purse your lips to stop yourself from laughing at her expression.

"Let me just do some scans and bloodwork. You can wait outside, we'll call you again when we're done." The doctor said a little more uncomfortably now. You nodded and headed to the exit but Yunho quickly grabbed your hand, making you give him a look.

"She kept smiling at me, I felt oddly violated." Yunho whimpered softly to you.

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shiggysimp69 · 3 days

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Public Restrooms

Warning: Implied non-con, Reader gets followed.

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You never liked public restrooms. They were filthy, claustrophobic, and always smelled like body odor. There was something inherently nerve wracking to be engaging in something so private next to complete strangers. You only hated one thing more than using public bathrooms, and that was using them at night.

Gnats fluttered around the bright street lights as you tightened your multicolored scarf around your neck.

“It's colder than it was yesterday…” You thought, blowing on your frostbitten hands. Work had ended an hour ago, however, you decided to stay longer for a little overtime. But now your bladder was practically bursting and you needed to make your way to the nearest restroom before things got ugly. You looked around, the shop was all closed up and your home was a whole bus ride away.

“Maybe there'll be one on the way?”

Snow crunched beneath your feet as you made your way to the bus stop. The air smelled of frost and gasoline. Winter came with a vengeance this year, covering almost everything with a fresh coat of glittery white snow. It would be nice to have a car at a time like this but with your rent already sky high, it would be virtually implausible. You approached the stop, blowing on your hands once more as you scanned the area. You couldn't see any stores still open at this hour. In a perfect world, someone would make an exception and let you in just to pee. But it was not a perfect world. You looked to your left and there was a bench with a roof to keep out the snow or rain; but there was also a person there, sitting. You didn't wanna bother the man, especially if he was homeless, however, it was becoming more and more difficult to hold yourself. You were tempted to just go in a bush at this point. Walking over to the man, you waved at him.

“Excuse me.”

He looked up at you, his messy hair falling over his face. You would be lying if you said he didn't give you a weird vibe. He sat hunched over, dressed in all black, with sharp red eyes. You almost peed right then and there.

“S-Sorry to bother you but do you know anywhere I can use the restroom?” You asked, swallowing your fear. He stared at you for a while, and you swear he was undressing you with his eyes. His tongue swiped his bottom lip. That's when you realized just how dry and chapped they were. Actually, the man's whole face looked a little dehydrated…

“Down the street to the left.”

You blinked.

“There's a park and the bathrooms should still be open…” He spoke again.

“Oh, right! Thank you.”

You laughed a bit to clear the nervousness in your voice. He looked away and you took that as the end of your conversation, turning around and heading for the park. As you walked you felt his gaze on you once more. It made you shiver, his eyes colder than any winter. But you kept going, he was probably just some homeless guy that you'd never see again after tonight. Right… Just some bitter homeless person.

To your surprise, the man was right. You half figured you'd get led around in circles listening to someone who clearly wasn't mentally sound. But there it was. You hoped that you'd be able to go inside somewhere to pee. Like a restaurant or convenience store. It just felt safer that way, and it was more than likely cleaner than the restroom you just stepped into. It reeked of feces and hot piss, and questionable stains and toilet paper seemed to be everywhere. This was one of the many reasons why you absolutely hated public bathrooms. You could catch a disease sitting on some of these toilets. However, beggars can't be choosers and you were about to bust.

The creaking of the bathroom door caught your attention as you looked for a clean stall. Great. Now it was worse. Doing your private business next to a stranger was embarrassing and you avoided it at all costs. You sighed.

“It's whatever, just hurry up and pick a stall.” You thought, pushing open another door. Heavy footsteps approached you but you didn't turn to face them. It wasn't until they stopped that you looked over. Your eyes were met with deep crimson ones. It was him, the man from the bus stop. You took a cautionary step back.

“Y-You can't be in here.” You spoke, trying to convince yourself that he was just confused and didn't know that this was the women's restroom. He didn't respond, eyes still locked on yours. He sat with a hunch before but now he towered over you. At least a five inch difference between the two of you. For some reason he looked more cognitive than when you first saw him. Something about the look in his eyes told you that he definitely wasn't confused and that he knew exactly what he was doing. Suddenly, you felt warm in thirty degree weather. Fear heating you up and making you sweat bullets. Your heart sank as he took a step closer. You shook your head, a silent “no” escaping your lips.

“What's wrong…?”

Your eyes widened, shocked to hear his voice.

“A cute little thing like you stumbles across my path and you think I'm just supposed to let you go?”

His voice was smooth yet raspy, and it definitely wasn't something you'd ever forget. He stepped forward again and you backed up, straight into a wall. You looked behind you and in that moment he closed the gap between the two of you. He chuckled as he gazed upon your face. Horror. Absolute terror was written all over it. With tears filling your eyes and dampening your full lashes. You were beautiful.

“little one… You are nothing but a sheep waiting to be herded. Now you're gonna sit here like a good little lamb and let me fuck that sweet pussy of yours until we're both spent and my balls are completely dry.”

Without warning, hot liquid ran down your legs leaving a dark spot right at your crotch. He looked down at the area and smirked.

“How adorable. I guess you have no choice but to take them off now…”

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laylajeffany · 6 hours

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Crying at the Texas Roadhouse | Wenclair One-Shot for @cruciokilljoy

Rating: G WC: 4,500 Summary: Enid’s feelings are hurt and Wednesday tries to resolve them, requiring her to find her soft spot (in public) when Enid starts sobbing in the middle of a chain restaurant in Jericho. Enid's POV, established relationship, unrelated to any of my multi-chapter work TW: Esther Sinclair being herself

@cruciokilljoy You were probably looking for more physical hurt/comfort but both my multi-chap fics have explored that pretty throughly and I am tired of writing the girls in physical pain so I put them through emotional pain instead. Certainly not based on actual, recent conversations with my own hateful mother not at all ☠️

“You were crying.”

Duh.

“Like, an hour ago,” Enid clarified, looking at Wednesday as she stepped into their room with her jacket draped over her arm, sleeves rolled up, hands filthy. She could only imagine what her girlfriend had gotten into (literally, looking at the caked-on mud on her Oxfords that ran up to her stocking-covered knees). “I hardly think that’s the most pressing thing we need to talk about. Why are you covered in dirt?”

“Mud wrestling,” Wednesday replied dryly.

“Not enough on you for that.” Enid rolled her eyes and crossed her sweater-covered arms. She almost didn’t want to know but would certainly rather discuss Wednesday's potentially illegal antics than herself after the challenging evening that she’d already had.

She wasn’t in the mood for bickering, either way - so maybe quiet time would be best.

“Why were you upset?” Clearly, she wasn't going to drop it with her own deflection. Wednesday draped her jacket over the side of her desk chair and toed off her muddy shoes, forcing her to lose the small boost of lift they gave her, putting her squarely two inches beneath Enid. She stood directly in front of her, a kiss away – bearing into Enid with her eyes and forcing truth out of her.

Knowing her lower lip trembled a little, hating her tells and trying to frown the feelings away, Enid looked at her own feet. There was no use lying to Wednesday about an actually serious subject when the evidence was still in the bloodshot veins of her eyes. “My mother called. It was…it’s just always upsetting,” She glanced back up with a forced, sad smile. Wednesday’s eyes lost their intensity from curiosity, but gained something that was largely new for her – sympathy.

How Enid hated it. Deciding to dangle a tantalizing offer in front of her, she forced her pitch to remain neutral as she stated, “I don’t want to dwell on it. Can we skip the part where I rehash how my mom is a miserable person and…just go to dinner? You could edit my lycan paper after, I could use the help…”

Wednesday’s stare continued to be gentle and Enid was about ready to march out of the room if she didn’t quit. She couldn’t stand that. “Stop, please? Wednesday, honestly. I don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want you to pacify me this evening. My mother always manages to upset me. And even if I stand up to her on the phone, I sometimes need to cry it out after. It’s like…” Deciding to use a weapon analogy, Enid expressed, “Like a fuse. She lit it, I detonated on her, and now there’s some debris to clean up, but I’m actually fine. I want to move on.”

Obviously a little put out by the way her jaw shifted just slightly, Wednesday disappeared wordlessly, returning from the community washroom down the hall with clean hands and sans her stockings, which Enid assumed she’d tossed rather than get any more flak from the on-site laundry service about soiling other people’s clothing.

She disappeared into her closet, coming out in a pair of wide-legged pants and an oversized black sweatshirt that fell nearly to her knees. If Enid could hide her emotions, she supposed she couldn’t comment on Wednesday hiding her body.

To her surprise, Wednesday actually let her not speak about her feelings and folded a hand into hers as she waved to Thing, nonverbally communicating that she wanted to be alone with Enid. Thing had been quite helpful to the whole affair – had heard her mother’s hurtful words, passed her tissues after she finished crying into her pillow, patted her back sweetly…

Wednesday led her to the foyer but didn’t turn to the right to take them to the cafeteria. Enid blinked a few times when Wednesday tugged her right out the front door and down the front steps. Confused, and really not in the mood to go investigating anything, particularly to discover whatever had Wednesday so dirty, Enid whined a little, “Can’t we just eat?”

“It’s Monday,” Her voice was just a touch darker than it had been in their room. “Nevermore’s infamous attempt at cowering to the vegetarians is tonight, and I don’t think their imitation beef is going to help you feel any better. We’re heading into town – I’m getting you a steak.” Well, that certainly perked her up just a little bit. “Withdrawing red meat once a week in an effort to be more environmentally friendly when ten percent of the student campus requires it as part of their metabolic diet is cruel, performative activism and we don’t need to be part of it. It makes as much sense as banning plastic straws. You don’t create systems change by following trends. Meatless Monday is going to meet my full-meat fist one of these days. But tonight, we’re going to crush peanut shells underfoot at a chain restaurant instead.”

More than okay with getting that salty coating in between the grooves of her furry, pink boots, Enid pulled Wednesday to her in a hug when they arrived to the edge of the forest trail that would take them into Jericho. Wednesday sucked in a breath of surprise at being forced into her hold but returned it after just a second of processing what was happening to her. “I don’t mean to take my bad mood out on you,” Enid apologized.

“I do it to you all the time,” Wednesday mumbled into her shoulder, sighing as she hooked her arms around her middle, hanging on just as tightly. “Usually for far-less valid reasons.” She pulled away to put her palms on Enid’s shoulders and met her eyes without that sympathy…instead…

Wednesday’s brown gaze in the setting sun was highly empathetic and made Enid drop half the tension in her shoulders. “I might also be a little hangry,” She confessed as her stomach roared suddenly between them.

There was a flirtation of a smirk on Wednesday’s lips at the noise and she said nothing, merely took her hand again, leading them boldly through the woods for a twenty-minute walk into town.

Enid swore she felt better just at the sight of the neon lights outlining the state of Texas with a cowboy hat perched on top of it when the restaurant was in view. Inside promised at least a feeling of satisfaction for the wolf within her, and that could often soften the meltdown of her personhood, too.

“Two, please,” Wednesday politely replied when the hostess, a too-cool Jericho High student with rapidly growing roots sticking out of her bleach blonde hair snapped her gum and looked irritated to have to ask how many were in their party.

Holding back her own growl of irritation, Enid would admit, she was relatively surprised by how well-behaved Wednesday could be in spaces like public restaurants. She often claimed that staff were simply victims of the State or something about labor rights, and generally tipped far more than Enid would’ve thought that they had earned.

Enid watched a basket of rolls be taken into a waitress’ hands and swallowed the saliva that threatened to slip out of her lips, thinking Wednesday was about to drop her hand as she often did in public – but not that day. She must’ve sensed some of her mother’s conversation had been about, willing to take on any bigot that might’ve had something to say about the two of them in a relationship. Vermont might’ve been one of the more progressive states in the country, but – certainly, so was California, and her mother had a whole lot to say from there that evening…

Once they were seated, Enid took a roll without waiting even a beat for the young woman who would be taking care of them to go through her required spiel, while Wednesday simply gave a curt nod at her before giving all of her attention to Enid as she went to return with water. (Enid could hardly wait for the day she could down one of those massive margaritas in the advertisements all over the establishment.)

She was halfway through with her first roll when Wednesday’s harsh stare asked the question before she needed to confirm, “You missed lunch with that extra dance practice today.”

“I’m sorry,” Enid said, just about ready to own up to anything – even things she hadn’t done, in an effort to just keep everyone from blowing up at her anymore that day. She really couldn’t handle Wednesday being frustrated with her, too -

“Next time, tell me,” Wednesday ordered, her voice clipped; Enid stared hard at the rings on the wooden, lacquered tabletop, willing her next round of sadness to stay internal. “I’ll bring you something to class. Don’t apologize to me.”

About to say ‘sorry’ again, Enid just bit her lip, seeing the tears that were threatening to well up in her gaze. She tried to blink them away, and was grateful when the waitress asked if they needed more time with the menu when she brought their water over. Enid just shook her head, while Wednesday started, then said her name in a very gentle tone – and all the up and down of soft and hard was really –

“Um, the twelve-ounce New York strip, please – rare.”

“You know that means pink, possibly bloo-”

Wednesday was quick to defend her. “She knows what her body requires.”

Enid let out a shuddered breath, quietly asking for her sides before the waitress left. Wednesday reached across the table and took both of Enid’s hands, clearly needing to understand more about what was making her act so small and miserable. “Tell me what your mother said.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Enid argued, feeling her tone rising as hysteria was pouring out of each vein, flooding her body.

“You obviously already are. It’s weighing on you. Release the burden, and you’ll feel relief.”

As the first tear fell, Wednesday’s face contorted from intensity and certainty to overwhelmed and near helplessness as she obviously hadn't thought through the fact that Enid was going to cry in public. She squeezed Enid’s hands, but the gesture only caused the second one to dribble, then the third, and the fourth, and Enid brought her sweater up over her face to keep from letting out an audible sob in the restaurant.

Thankfully, Wednesday had some sort of awareness about what to do – they’d been dating for months and friends for so long, she’d seen her fair share of Enid’s breakdowns and generally knew what did and didn’t help. When the preventative measures clearly weren’t working that Monday, she stood up and rounded to the space beside her, putting an arm around her and letting Enid fold herself into her chest. The unexpected display of affection was actually bringing out even more of her release. God – that hug to soothe her emotions into was exactly what Enid needed, and the fact that Wednesday had it in her to be soft enough around her to let her break down, in a half-full restaurant, into her arms? She loved her more than anything, and Enid knew that, she just wished, maybe – well, Wednesday was probably right. She did just need to talk about it to work through it.

When she met the black strings of her hoodie, Enid knew she let out a cry of a sniffly sound. It was embarrassing, devastating, really, to be having a full breakdown at the Texas Roadhouse. But Wednesday had been determined to try and make her feel better that evening and was going to have to finish what she started, even if that meant snuggling her in a vinyl-covered booth while the waitress awkwardly put their salads down on the same side of the table a few minutes after the crying began.

Wednesday unrolled one of the fabric napkins, shaking out a knife and the forks. For a brief, split-second, Enid thought she really might eat one-handed while she continued to snivel all over her chest, but Wednesday instead used the square to dab Enid’s cheeks, soaking up the tears that hadn’t been absorbed into her sweatshirt. She adjusted her hold on her girlfriend and looked at her with something new –

Sincerity.

Almost blubbering again, Enid just nodded, knowing it would do well to admit what Esther had said to her on the phone. “My…mother – she was …on her weekly rampage, about…everything. Nevermore, administration refusing to split us up – you not receiving any consequences from last semester…the usual. Then…it shifted,” She sniffed. “She brought up my late blooming, how I’d been so privileged to have been even have parents who cared enough to offer to send me to lycanthropy conversion camp…”

Wednesday’s hand curled on her upper thigh at that.

“And when she wasn’t getting a rise out of me for that, she dug deeper – the normal line of inane ramblings of how she couldn’t believe after all that time, ‘that Addams girl’ was what got me to shift for the first time…and, when I reminded her, ‘that Addams girl’ is Wednesday, my girlfriend, she…she…just said, ‘we don’t talk about that,’ and started bitching about the value of a Nevermore education not matching up to the price tag, not that it mattered – since none of her pack were scoring above a 3.5 on the ‘mediocre’ grading system, moved on to my scar tissue and wanting me to come home to have a consultation with a plastic surgeon for a revision procedure, and I said that wasn’t going to happen and hung up on her. Then I cried.”

Watching Wednesday respond to the entirety of the call was like discovering something new hidden in a sensory tube every other second. While she was short for words, Wednesday’s eyes always spoke volumes about what she would say if she dared to put her thoughts out verbally. Mr. Addams had described her tongue as that of a viper to Enid more than once when telling stories about her, so she was pretty sure it was often for the best that Wednesday focused on taking in all the information before reacting. She knew that Wednesday tended to get into it with administrators and authority, but at least with Enid – she was far more even-tempered in how she responded to hearing words she didn’t like.

Enid let out a long breath and picked up one of the forks that Wednesday had shaken out of the napkin, needing to channel her energy into anything but crying again. She speared leafy greens onto the tines, trying not to visualize doing the same to any of her mother’s more vulnerable body parts, for that matter – wondering which Wednesday would fantasize about ripping out first in her defense.

“I’m sorry, Enid,” Wednesday spoke through a near whisper of a tone.

Hearing those words come out of Wednesday was like hearing foreign language that she needed to interpret. Her fork fell out of her hand. Not wanting to startle her anymore, Enid brought her longing, hopeful sort of gaze to Wednesday’s. “Why are you apologizing now?”

Wednesday drew her hands into her lap, staring straight ahead. It took her some time to form her response, likely, if Enid had to guess, because of the emotion that was pooling in her own eyes. She knew her damn well enough that she wouldn’t shed anything close to a tear in public, but Wednesday was very much on the edge. It didn’t make sense – she’d done nothing wrong, aside from maybe push her into talking about it when Enid knew what that would unleash, but even then – it’s not like she had been the one to say all those hurtful things…

“I suppose I am not apologizing with my sorry. But I am sorry that I contributed to enough of your mother’s ire that she took it out on you. I’m sorry that she continues to refuse to acknowledge that you are in a non-traditional relationship, let alone demonstrate any sort of positive feeling about it. I’m sorry that she continues to bring up painful events of the past, and attempt to shame you for them, or think you should have been grateful for her wanting to send you to an abusive situation. I’m sorry that she thinks your grades aren’t good enough – you’ve got a 3.87 right now, which is Magna cum laude and I’m really proud of you for working diligently at increasing your grade point average. I’m sorry that she thinks you need plastic surgery. If you wanted to, that would be your choice. But I love your scars, and I think they’re beautiful.”

Enid could barely breathe. She wasn’t sure if Wednesday had ever said so many words consecutively, let alone that indicated her true feelings on any subject matter…that she was harboring so many about her, in particular. Trying not to let herself curl up into the faux-wooden logs that made up the side wall of their booth, Enid finally found the ability to expand her lungs and release the last of the tension she’d been harboring. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”

“It’s not in pity,” Wednesday clarified. “It’s not. It’s…perhaps a feeling that I don’t have a schema for.” She gave a rare blink as she seemed to be trying to find the emotional vocabulary within her to better explain herself, staring at Enid, who was pretty sure she was going to need an inhaler by the end of dinner at the rate Wednesday was taking her breath away. Finally, she gave a nearly-invisible shrug as she further clarified, “I just know, that I love you. And I despise that anyone would attempt to make you feel small, or anything else negative, especially someone who is also supposed to love you unconditionally. And I am sorry, that you were forced to endure that. All your life. So…I’m sorry, and I hope to make it up to you.”

Tilting her head, sniffing just a little, finding the shiest hint of a smile, Enid promised in a watery whisper, “You are. Right now. You…knew that I needed to take care of myself, and that school wasn’t going to cut it, and you brought me to the Texas Roadhouse,” She let out a small bubble of a laugh. “Here, I’ll get what I need to sustain me, but while we’re waiting,” She paused, reaching over for one of Wednesday’s clasped hands, forcing them apart so they could squeeze one another’s. “You’re giving me the opportunity to release what doesn’t. Thank you, Wednesday.”

There was a new wave on Wednesday’s features – a distinct mark of relief in her gaze as she swept it, unblinking onto Enid again. “It is hardly my forte to make someone who was sad return to baseline, let alone anything akin to happiness…”

“You’ve done a pretty remarkable job for me,” Enid assured her when the waitress brought out their main courses, looking a little awkward as she put them near their still-full salad plates.

“Uh…anything else I can bring you girls?”

“A total end to the heteronormative, compulsory, traditional society we continue to find ourselves existing in,” Wednesday said without hesitating.

The waitress blinked.

Enid shook her head. “I think we’ve got anything we need, right here.”

The woman left with wide, confused eyes and Enid sighed, cutting into her steak without thinking twice, watching the red ooze out onto her plate. The sight grossed her out, but she knew it would do her body good.

Sure enough – halfway into the steak, she was feeling remarkably better already. “Try to finish it,” Wednesday prompted her. “The full moon is on Thursday, you should be nearly doubling your caloric intake.”

Kissing her cheek, earning the slightest twinge of red to her cheeks, Enid thanked her and followed through, polishing off the meat, picking at her vegetables while Wednesday ate with a distinct sort of raised-higher-class slowness that she usually did.

After finishing and watching Wednesday tip the waitress almost double what the bill had been, Enid took her hand and made it her turn to lead them – the yellow glow of a Dollar General sign across the street tempting her. “I feel like properly finishing up my breakdown by making a frivolous, five-dollar purchase.”

Wednesday’s eyes rolled but she didn’t fight her. Mid 2000s soft-pop radio was playing as they stepped into the nearly desolate discount store, one that Enid liked because of the deadstock that featured some of her favorite comfort characters from her childhood. Knowing exactly what she wanted, she led Wednesday through precariously stacked makeshift aisles of cardboard boxes filled with inventory that would be put out by the one employee working there over the course of several weeks. She hummed along to the music, singing along softly with Colbie Caillat, feeling a little bubbly herself as Wednesday refrained from spewing out comments on late-stage capitalism or some such true, but nonsensical arguing that would accomplish nothing between them. “Here they are,” She said, gesturing to a host of children’s coloring books. Wondering if Wednesday's limited access to traditional children's media would kick in, Enid playfully wondered, “Anybody look familiar to you?”

“Even someone who spent a significant portion of her childhood exploring the caves below the house like myself can recognize the ultimate example of corporate greed, the mouse that is Mickey.”

“Yikes,” Enid commented, “I’ll steer clear of the Disney characters.” Mentally retracting her statement to herself about Wednesday being able to hold back full-punch societal comments, she smirked, spotting what she wanted pretty much right away, taking a pink, Strawberry Shortcake book into her hold. “Will you color with me?”

“I cannot promise that I won’t be giving the fruitcake a makeover. And a knife.”

Giggling, then singing along a little more as she took Wednesday’s hand and wove her through the maze of mess before checking out – spending a whopping two dollars and twelve cents to achieve the final release in neurotransmitters that would complete her night.

After a walk back to Ophelia Hall that included a great production of sneaking back into the campus as they’d left without permission, Enid and Wednesday both found themselves in their pajamas and ready for bed before Enid took her art supplies out from a basket, revealing about three hundred colored pencils in different shades.

Wednesday flipped through the coloring book with a touch of a nose wrinkle, staring at the smiley, fruit-themed girls. She was going out of her way, clearly setting every intention of getting through the moment to make her girlfriend happy as she'd claimed. Finally letting out a real, whole laugh, Enid earned her perplexed stare. “You did it,” She promised. Wednesday waited and Enid winked. “You didn’t just reset me to factory settings, but you made me happy. I promise. You totally do not have to color with me. You can read or edit papers or whatever else is going to make you happy, too. So long as you’re not out solving mysteries, but here with me.”

There was a beat of relief as Wednesday took out a book she’d been reading through, curling up beside Enid, who took some creative liberties as Wednesday would have, forcing a picture of Lemon Meringue, the pigtailed character, and Strawberry Shortcake to look as close to herself and Wednesday as possible, even adding a little knife into Lemon’s hand. Wednesday let Enid pick the music, but she went with one of her playlists of cello covers as a compromise for both of them.

When she finished and flashed the coloring sheet to her girlfriend, Wednesday almost smiled, amusement evident in her eyes as she took a knife out of her pajama pocket (naturally – everyone needed a bedtime knife), evenly slicing it out of the book. She tacked it up on Enid’s bulletin board before putting all the coloring supplies away while Enid watched. Finally, she turned off all the lights except the strand of twinkling ones she’d magically learned to tolerate once they started dating.

She brought Enid to the floor-bed they’d made with a roll-away mattress that was more comfortable than cramming into either of their twin beds, lying on her back as usual, and inviting Enid to curl up with her with silence, just vague gestures – a pat of her own chest, a small nod…

“Wednesday, I love you. Thank you, for making me feel one hundred percent better. I feel even better than before my mom called,” Enid said softly, nuzzling into her.

Wednesday’s fingers instinctively wove into her hair. “I’m tempted to block her number on your phone so she can’t get a hold of you. I can’t promise that if I’m in the room the next time she calls, I won’t make her feel something about herself that is more than true.”

“Good,” Enid encouraged with a contented huff. “She deserves that.”

“You didn’t deserve what she said or attempted to do to you in the past. And I hope that…her comments about…us, don’t make you second guess things. I am always here – to repair and comfort what she has hurt or damaged, as long as you want me to.”

Enid squeezed her affectionately. “You are excellent at comforting my hurts.”

There was a small breath of alleviation she felt from Wednesday. Wanting her to really understand that, she added, “You went out of your way for me tonight. You could’ve just given me a hug, taken me down to the dining hall, and come up to edit my paper. But you didn’t. You knew what very specific things would make me physically feel better, then opened yourself up emotionally for me, too. You’re the best. I love you.”

Wednesday clutched her tightly with one palm wrapped around her back, the other gently tracing the skin near Enid’s scars. Her words felt a little surprising when she added, “I would like to apologize for forcing you to talk about what happened before you were ready. I’m sure you would have liked to not cry in public at the Texas Roadhouse.”

“I think it’s a perfectly lovely public place to have a breakdown,” Enid said with a giggle at her own expense.

Wednesday said nothing other than a quiet, “I love you. Go to sleep.”

Closing her eyes so she could follow the direction, Enid sighed very contently, reflecting on the evening as she drifted off to have the chance to start over in a new day.

Layla is working through prompts and determined to write the Black Menagerie epilogue for the weekend - stay tuned for more ✌🏼

#Wednesday 2022 #Fanfic #Wenclair #One-Shot #visual for my non-american readers of what a Texas Roadhouse looks like 🫶🏻#who among us hasn't cried in a chain restaurant?#unbeta’d #the collection of one-shots I write mostly in a closet at work is bringing me great joy #thank you for all the prompts I struggle to do any kind of one-shot on my own #layla's >5k challenge

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jokeringcutio · 2 days

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"This is a Nice Job" - Black Phone & FNAF Crossover - Reader Insert (Implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber x Reader) [ 1/?]

AN: As I am known to do, I might just start a few drabbles in this setting because I love it.

Summary: You're working in Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place for William Afton and Mr. Henry, when you have a chat with the hired magician for the day: The Great Al.

Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Black PhoneRating: Teen? Warnings: Older man/younger woman, Nothing Explicit (yet), Only implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber(Albert Shaw) x Reader, Flirting with murderers? Reader likes her job around kids. Not betaread. [ Support x ]

This was actually inspired by @cartoonykat's ask:

Loud music filled your ears, interrupted by the occasional shouts of little children as you darted between the tables, a tray of fizzing drinks balanced precariously in your grip. The squeals and laughter of children swirled around you, their faces smeared with icing and joy. You placed a paper cup before each eager set of hands, your smile never faltering.

"Careful now, don't spill," you murmured, patting a small head as its owner looked up at you with wide, grateful eyes.

"Thank you!" the child chirped, clutching the drink like a treasure.

"Happy to help," you replied, your voice a soft melody amid the cacophony of celebration.

Your gaze swept across the room, ensuring all was well, when the sudden hush of captivated little ones snagged your attention. There, at the center of the restaurant, stood Albert Shaw, the hired magician for today’s party. Freddy’s Pizza Place usually had a few performers they worked with, including a clown and this magician. His white-painted face was stark against the backdrop of colorful streamers, his large sunglasses hiding eyes that held secrets darker than the void.

‘The Great Al’, they called him, as he conjured silk scarves from his large top hat, making them dance like serpents charmed by his will alone. With the hat off you could see the shoulder-length dark hair that he hid underneath his hat most of the time. It was already turning grey, betraying his age which was harder to pinpoint with all the makeup covering his face.

He plucked coins from behind ears, eliciting gasps and giggles from his audience, each trick a thread in the tapestry of his dark artistry. He was good with the kids, you thought. His low voice occasionally made its way over the music that he had playing in the background. You found yourself rooted to the spot, your heart thudding a dangerous rhythm.

"Watch closely," he intoned, his low gravelly voice a siren's call that reverberated through your bones. A deck of cards appeared in his hands, flickering through his fingers as if alive. Strong hands, you noted. Thick fingers. Delicious. No – You shook the dirty thoughts away. You shouldn’t be thinking about one of the restaurant’s performers like that.

And then, with a flourish that defied logic, the cards transformed into a flurry of doves, their wings beating against the still air of the restaurant. The children erupted in applause, but you barely heard them. Your pulse quickened. The magician smiled as he revealed a small box and teased the kids with it. It was empty, but after a magical spell, the box was suddenly filled with enough candy to share around. You’d seen this performance several times now, and every time he managed to captivate you.

"Impossible," someone whispered beside you, echoing the disbelief that churned in your thoughts.

Al's performance built to a crescendo, the very air charged with anticipation. With a final bow, he finished, receiving thunderous cheers from his young fans.

"Amazing," you breathed, the word slipping out like a prayer to a deity you were only beginning to comprehend.

"Excuse me,” the voice cut through the din of merriment, stark and commanding. You flinched, recognizing the voice before you turned around. “Could you come here for a moment?"

Oh no, have I done something wrong? The worried voice echoed inside your mind. I was only looking for a moment, Mr. Afton, you thought to yourself, focusing on what you could say in your defense. I was still on the job and paying attention.

Mr. Afton, your boss and one of the restaurant’s owners, stood in the dimly lit entrance to his office, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was tall, his stature was impressive for a man of his age. Already greying at the top, hair thinning, large glasses enlarging his eyes, belly poking out from underneath his arms.

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the excited group of kids that had gathered around Albert Shaw. But duty called, its voice as inescapable as gravity. With one last glance at the festive chaos of the party, you made your way toward your boss, the weight of his stare pulling you forward like a marionette on taut strings.

"Mr. Afton," you greeted him, striving for a tone of respectful professionalism despite the unease coiling in your stomach.

"Come inside my office," not a question, but a demand thinly veiled with kindness. His lips curled into a semblance of a smile, not quite reaching the coldness of his eyes behind those aviator glasses.

Mr. Afton was a tall man, taller than most that you met in your life. His hair was thinning on top and greying but still had a lively curl to it. His eyes seemed larger behind the thick glasses he wore. Strands of grey adorned his pepper-and-salt beard. He was the exact definition of a ‘dad bod’. In fact, you had heard he had a family, even though you’d never seen them. Rumors said he was divorced.

You followed him inside to see a large desk, files, and papers strewn all over it. There was an animatronic in the corner of the room, purple, with ears hanging. You thought it might be some kind of rabbit.

The thud of the door closing behind you made you jump and you turned to look behind you to see Afton had closed it. His eyes met yours, only for a short while, and you fidgeted nervously with your hands because… had you done something wrong? Had he caught you looking at the magician? That must have been it, there was nothing else it could have been. He must think you to be slacking. But you weren’t. You were still alert, still focused on any peep from a parent or child.

You needed this job and actually liked it more than you thought you would.

"I've been watching you,” your boss started, licking his lips as he walked toward his desk and then turned to lean against it. He folded his arms in front of his chest, his purple tie wrinkling with the motion against his yellow blouse. The sleeves were pulled up, showing strong forearms riddled with veins and scars.

“You have a knack for this,” he started in that low, stern voice of his. “Keeping the little ones entertained."

"Thank you, sir," you replied, shuffling awkwardly in front of his desk. There was a chair there, but should you sit down? He remained standing so you should too, right? Your mind was racing. Had you done something wrong? Had you not followed protocol? Was your uniform in order?

"I just want to make sure they're all having a good time," the words stumbled from your lips, clumsily and awkwardly, but the smile you managed afterward seemed to soften the look in Mr. Afton’s eyes.

"Indeed." He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. "However, I couldn't help but notice you seemed... distracted. By the magician, was it?"

You swallowed hard, caught off guard. "He's very talented," you deflected, but Mr. Afton's gaze pierced through your defenses, reading unspoken words.

“I,” you hesitated and watched as your boss raised a brow. Swallowing down your fear and gathering your courage, you spoke up again, louder this time. “I was still keeping an eye on the kids and delivering orders though. I might have seemed distracted but I was still doing my job.”

“So it seems,” Mr. Afton murmured, pressing a finger against his lips thoughtfully. You watched the wrinkle between his eyes deepen as he frowned.

"Be careful," he murmured, his voice silk over steel. "You are a pretty girl and I have noticed the man has been looking at you. People aren't always what they seem." There was a warning there, wrapped in the velvet of concern, yet it felt like a threat all the same.

"Of course, Mr. Afton. I'll remember that." Your words were steady, but inside, confusion and curiosity churned. Why did it feel like he cared? And why did it matter so much?

"Good." He clasped your shoulder briefly – a gesture that tried to be fatherly but felt possessive. "Keep up the good work. We need employees like you."

"Thank you, sir." You nodded, excusing yourself from his heavy gaze, a strange sense of relief flooding you as you stepped back into the colorful light of the party.

But as you returned to refilling cups and plating slices of cake, you couldn't shake the feeling of Mr. Afton's eyes on you, nor could you ignore the tingling sensation where his hand had been.

What had that been all about?

You wove through the sea of balloons and streamers, your heart still thudding from Mr. Afton's cryptic parting words. The din of the party enveloped you, a cacophony of glee that almost drowned out the lingering unease. Almost.

The magician, Albert Shaw, stood center stage, lowering his sunglasses to reveal his pale eyes sweeping over the crowd like a predator surveying prey. Tiny hands clapped with fervor as he flourished his final trick – a bouquet appearing from thin air. The children squealed, their delight pure and infectious. But when your gaze met his, something flickered there – an abyss that beckoned and repelled.

"Bravo!" The word slipped from your lips, but the echo in your mind whispered caution.

"Thank you, my dear audience!" Shaw's voice wrapped around the room, velvet lined with smoke. His bow was elegant, yet each movement seemed calculated, a dance with shadows only he could see.

As you slipped behind the bar, the festive chaos became a blur. You began stacking cups, the routine task grounding you. You missed Erica and Lucy. They at least pulled you into conversations every now and again. Today, your only colleagues were Mike and El, who were just teenagers whose hormones had started to work and who were way too busy with each other than with managing the tables. And there were Justin and Jax. The two J’s. Boys who had worked here for so much longer than you that they often forgot you were there and were mostly talking to each other.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, focusing on the music that played from the speakers softly in the background, that you hadn’t noticed the magician’s approach until his presence loomed over you. Albert Shaw leaned against the polished wood, his silhouette casting a long shadow in the neon glow.

"Could I trouble you for a glass of water?" His request was simple, mundane, but it crawled under your skin, insistent.

That voice, you thought, hearing that deliciously dark rasp in it. Was he a smoker? Whatever caused his voice to sound like that, it worked for you. It did things no employee should have to go through during working hours.

Embarrassing really.

"Of course," you replied, your voice steady despite the tremble in your fingers. "It's on the house," you joked. You poured the water, the liquid crystal clear and innocent, an odd contrast to the darkness that seemed to cling to him.

"Generous," he remarked, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. It was a smile that promised secrets, a whisper of sin.

“I do have lemonade, soda, perhaps a fizzy drink?” You offered, cocking a brow. “I know there are cans of beer in the back. I could get a real drink for you. No costs.”

The man’s expression was hard to read, with all the makeup and the dark glasses hiding his bright eyes once more. But you thought you could see his smirk grow. His fingers curled around the glass of water, muscles tensing.

“A soda, then,” he said after a contemplative hum. “I still need to drive home.”

“A soda it is then,” you confirmed, looking at him from over your shoulder as you set to work to get him his free drink. “Most men prefer the beers.”

“Like I said,” his gravelly voice came while he tapped the brim of his top hat. “Got to drive.”

You watched as he sipped from his glass of water. Little droplets of sweat were running down the sides of his cheeks, smudging the white of his makeup.

“Responsible,” you murmured, placing the soda in front of him. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks.” He took the glass, fingers brushing yours. Electric. Intentional. You inhaled sharply, the air suddenly thick with something unspoken.

Your pulse raced. This man was danger masquerading as charm, and yet, you were drawn like a moth to a flame.

You cleared your throat and quickly turned away.

"Nice performance," you managed, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. The innocence of the party around you clashed with the intensity of the moment, the frivolity of balloon animals and birthday cake juxtaposed against the enigma before you. You were vaguely aware of eyes upon you, but when you looked up, all of your co-workers were busy minding themselves.

“You’ve seen me perform before,” the magician said. Touché. He was right there. “Was today’s better than all my other performances? Or just not as bad?”

You turned to face him again, forcing a small smile.

“It’s always a pleasure to watch your shows,” you hesitatingly confessed. Were your cheeks red again? Could he see that you were blushing? You hoped not. You clumsily started to wipe the bar with a wet rag, wiping away stains of spilled drinks and oily fries.

"Albert Shaw," he introduced himself formally, though you already knew. His name had been murmured in hushed, awed tones all day. He was on the list in the backrooms, hired via Abracadabra Entertainment & Supplies. You knew Afton and Henry bought most of their balloons and garlands from them as well. Although the agency wasn’t as big as Ha-Ha’s, from which they hired their clowns.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw." Your reply was automatic, but your mind was alight with curiosity and a dangerous thrill. You lifted the wet rag, showing you couldn’t shake hands with him, to which he took no notice. He reached for your free hand, despite it being wet from the rag as well, took it without hesitation, and shook it.

You stood frozen, uncertain of what to do or how to react, when his hand was already long gone. But Albert was already talking, seemingly unaware of how the little gesture – that little skin-on-skin contact – had rattled you.

"Please, call me Albert." His tone was insistent, a command cloaked in courtesy.

"Then you should call me…" You cut yourself short, almost giving away more than you meant to, "a fan of your work." Not that he wouldn’t know your name by now. It was on a badge on your chest.

"Perhaps one day," he said softly, "you'll show me what you're a fan of up close." The suggestion hung heavy between you, tantalizing and terrifying.

"Maybe," you breathed, the word barely more than a whisper.

As he leaned forward, his finger darted out to the badge on your chest. “Pretty name,” the words tumbled from his lips far more erotically than they should have. “Fits you.”

He then leaned back on the stool in front of the bar and picked up his glass while you spun around with cheeks all flushed, the wet rag still in your hands. You made the error of pressing the rag against your forehead, making you wince and leave for the backroom to get rid of it and dry your head.

This man was making you do weird things.

Upon your return, he was still at the bar, finishing a talk to one of the parents, and seemed to have taken his glasses off. Finally. Wearing sunglasses indoors was weird. As the dad left, Albert turned back to you and nursed his drink. Your eyes deliberately focused on the kids playing, rather than on the way the magician’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank.

Yup. Definitely not going to look at that.

“You’re enjoying this job, aren’t you?” Albert’s words caught you by surprise and you turned to him.

“Well, yes,” you said, because it was obvious. At least you hoped it was.

“You’re smiling radiantly. Like a bright star in the night,” Albert said, a toothy smile cracked the white of his makeup.

“Well," you replied, trying to steady your breathing. "Their laughter, it's... it's infectious." Your words fluttered out, betraying the turmoil within.

"Laughter, yes," he echoed, but something about his tone felt off. It gave you that weird shivery feeling down your spine. "The sound of pure... innocence."

He drank the soda, watching you over the rim of the glass, and you knew that this was no ordinary thirst. This was the thirst of a man accustomed to getting what he desires, by means unknown and best left unexplored.

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his stare heavy on your skin and you vaguely excused yourself. “I got swipe behind here too or the boss will think I’m not working.” Anything to get away from his eyes.

“Of course,” Albert replied, the grin never leaving his face.

“Didn’t he used to perform as well?” Albert’s question surprised you and you blinked up, already holding a broom in your hands.

“Huh?”

Albert hummed. “The yellow bunny suit, if I remember correctly. He told me about it once.”

You had to stifle a laugh. “What’s up with you performers and hiding your faces?” You asked. “You, the clowns, all use makeup. And the acrobat lady too. Or they wear big suits with masks.”

"Ah, but we all wear masks, don't we?" Albert tilted his head, a lock of greying hair falling across his brow.

"Sometimes without knowing it," you agreed, feeling the truth of those words more than you cared to admit. Then you sighed, the broom nearly slipping out of your hands.

“I don’t like wearing masks though,” you admitted almost dreamily. “I like to show the world who I really am. Putting on a front seems incredibly tiresome to me, don’t you agree?”

When your eyes met those of Albert, they were unreadable.

“It’s an astonishing thing, to be bashfully and unashamedly oneself.” The words came out brittle, then he reached into the pocket of his black coat.

"Here," he said, slipping a card from his sleeve with a flourish that made you jump. The black and red design swirled before your eyes, hypnotic. "In case you ever need a touch of magic."

His smile was a predator's grin, yet oddly charming.

“Got to do all my advertising myself. And since you were impressed…”

"Thank you," you stammered, feeling the card's smooth edges as you took it. The numbers danced under your fingertips, promising things unsaid.

"Call anytime," he added with a wink. It felt like a secret pact, one you weren't sure you wanted to be part of.

"Maybe I will," you murmured, pocketing the card, the heat of the exchange lingering like a spell.

As he turned to leave, Mr. Afton's shadow fell over you, icy and suffocating. You looked up to find his gaze locked onto yours, unreadable. Was it anger? Curiosity? Longing?

"Good work today," he said, each word measured and precise, but there was something else in his tone. A darkness that coiled beneath the surface.

"Thank you, Mr. Afton," you responded automatically, trying to sound unaffected. But your heart raced, betraying your composure.

"Keep our guests happy," he continued, his voice low, commanding. "That's what keeps them coming back."

"Of course," you nodded, but his eyes never left yours, pinning you like a butterfly in a case.

After a silence that felt like an eternity, Mr. Afton’s stern gaze finally left your face and he turned away from you. “Good girl,” it was but a low whisper, and you had to blink, wondering if the words had been real or if you had imagined them.

The moment you came out of your daze, Mr. Afton had returned to his office, seating himself behind his desk and leaving the door ajar so that he was in your field of vision. Your eyes searched the bar, but it seemed that ‘The Great Al�� had left.

As you watched Mr. Shaw vanish behind the swinging double doors, a shiver crawled up your spine. Laughter and chattering filled your ears, pulling you back to the here and now. And when you looked up, it was to see Mr. Afton as he lifted his eyes from the papers he was working on. Pale eyes that rested upon you for just a tick too long.

You loved your job, but whatever was going on here, you had no clue. The possibilities that filled your mind were too weird to consider. Patting the card hidden away on your body as a silent reminder to put it in your bag before you went home, you decided to ignore the weird tension that had been in the room earlier. And with a smile on your face, you went back into the sea of kids.

You loved this job and all the odd people you met through it.

AN: Guys, I did a thing (: Have you noticed the Arthur Fleck/Joker hints in it.

#william afton x reader #The grabber x reader #Albert shaw x Reader #the black phone #fnaf drabble

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