#eafaybelle

Fire. There was a time Erik was furious. His magic had made everyone around him claustrophobic, his midnight blue magic weighing down the air like a suffocating mist.

Then it happened, blue flames rolled off him and the house burnt down in seconds. Those within became ashes, and he walked back home nonchalant.

That kid forgot to invite Fay to his birthday party. Fay had been crushed, she had been slightly smitten.

It was the kid’s last birthday.

She looked at the other with a mischievous glint in her eyes paired with a sly smile, though it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared, laughing at her friend’s accusation. “Fairest Fay,” she said slowly, fishing out the pen from her pocket, poking the other’s chin with it. “Mother dearest taught me enough to know that if I truly wanted a peek, I can be polite enough to ask.”

@eafaybelle​

being secretary didn’t simply mean sitting beside the head bitch in charge wearing thick-framed glasses and chewing at the end of a pen, looking cute in a tight little skirt. for one, freyja didn’t like tight little skirts; secondly, she was much too uptight to think about looking cute; third, she wasn’t cute - she was gorgeous, up to par with the (equally) gorgeous asshole of a fairy.

but she did have a habit of nibbling at the end of her pen, and she did so as she scanned her notes as official note-taker of the villain club - who had their meetings at eight in the evening, much to freyja’s displeasure. her glasses fell from the bridge to the end of her nose, eyes on her almost indistinguishable handwriting as she tuned out the sound of her friend’s footsteps.