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darkmasterofcupcakes · 1 year ago

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Helluva Boss "Ficlet": Apparently Egypt Exists in Hell, Too

(This might end up becoming part of a longer story in the future, but for now, it's just something I wanted to write. Credit to @drlamp-and-other-polyships for listening to me ramble and indirectly getting this scenario to pop into my head).

(Read on AO3: X)

Blitzo groaned as he heard the sound of a scream, alerting him to a newly delivered text on his phone. Without lifting his head from the armrest of the couch, he picked up the phone and begrudgingly opened his eyes to look at the screen. He almost threw the phone at the wall when he noticed that the time at the top read that it wasn't even 8 in the morning, but stopped when he saw that the text was from Loona.

"Oh, shit" Blitzo said, immediately jumping awake. If he didn't like waking up early, Loona hated it even more; so if she was sending him a text this early, he had to assume there was some kind of emergency. Particularly when, despite her angrily telling him she was fine when he knocked on her bedroom door to check on her, he'd heard her getting sick in the bathroom more than once the night before.

He opened up the text, mentally preparing to grab the nearest gun and blow someone's head off if there was any indication Loona needed his help.

All thoughts of murder dissipated, however, when he actually read the message. For all that he'd been worried about how uncharacteristically early his daughter had apparently been awake, the actual content of her text gave no indication at all that she was in any sort of trouble. In fact, it was more or less the opposite.

Everything in fridge smells like shit. Went to eat out. Be back later

Blitzo let out a sigh of relief that his daughter was okay, and sent a quick reply telling her to tell him if she needed anything, before shoving the phone back into the pocket of the jacket he hadn't bothered to take off before going to bed. He also looked at the fridge, mentally trying to figure out how everything in there had apparently gone bad already; there wasn't a ton in there, but he was pretty damn sure nothing was expired. If the fridge was breaking down, that was going to absolutely blow - there were repair services in Hell, but the cheapest ones still cost a literal arm and leg.

He could worry about that later, he decided as he got up and went into the bathroom. With the initial fear over Loona's text gone, the slight grogginess from being woken up early had started to return, leaving his brain just a bit fogged outside of the annoying reminder that he hadn't used the toilet since before he went to sleep. After using the toilet, the imp went to rinse of his hands - only to smack his leg into the small trash can that he swore must have fucking teleported because why in Satan's asshole would he have put it there of all places?

The groan he let out when he realized he'd kicked the thing only extended once it fully registered in his slightly sleep-deprived brain that the contents of said can were now on the floor. Back when he still lived alone, Blitzo would have been fine with just leaving all the shit on the floor until after he'd gotten a few more hours of sleep. Ever since he adopted Loona, however, he wanted to try and make sure she was as comfortable as possible, and while he didn't know when she was coming home, he knew a bunch of shit thrown around the bathroom floor wasn't going to be comfortable in the slightest. So, with a slightly defeated sigh, Blitzo started picking up the garbage and dropping it back into the can.

About halfway through, he noticed something partially wrapped in toilet paper that looked oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why. So he leaned forward to get a closer look, gingerly pulling away the tissue to uncover more of the object. Once he saw what it was, his eyes opened so wide so quickly that he was almost expecting them to end up on the floor, too.

"Oh, there is no fucking way -" Blitzo growled to himself, pulling out his phone and immediately opening up his contacts.

---

Moxxie didn't even look at his phone before placing the receiver to his ear. He gave his phone number to very few people to begin with, and only two of them would have any reason to be calling him this early; one of whom was currently sleeping soundly right next to him, so checking the caller ID was just going to be redundant.

"What is it now, sir?" he asked, unable to make himself sound more awake or less irritated at the interrupted sleep than he already was. He also couldn't help but quickly glance up at the ceiling...just to be safe. "If this is about how I should watch that horse cartoon again, I already told you, I'm not -"

"Yeah, yeah, you've got zero taste, Mox, you don't need to remind me" Blitzo's voice came through the phone. "Actually, I was just calling to congratulate you on knocking Millie up."

That...was not what Moxxie was expecting to hear from his boss this early in the morning. Actually, he wasn't expecting to ever hear his boss say that. Moxxie took a few seconds to make sure he'd heard Blitzo correctly before responding in the only way he could think of:

"Millie's pregnant?"

"I am?!"

Moxxie couldn't help but jump at the sudden sound, fumbling a bit with the phone as he tried to avoid dropping it and succeeding by the skin of his teeth. Once he looked over at Millie and saw that his wife looked just as confused at the surprise announcement as he felt, Moxxie felt fairly confident that Blitzo was messing with them. Or else he'd called in his sleep again...though the fact that he sounded fairly coherent made that seem less than likely.

Still, it was a very...unusual way to try and mess with the couple, even for Blitzo. So Moxxie couldn't help but ask, "Why did you want to congratulate us for that, Blitzo?"

"I mean, I just found one of those baby detecting piss-sticks in my trash and there's a plus sign on it clear as fucking day, and I can at least put two and two together. So, yeah, congrats you two, on figuring out that pegging isn't how babies are made."

Moxxie was still trying to fully process what Blitzo said in the first place, when his thought process completely reset upon the mention of pegging; he was never going to live down that drug-induced confession, was he? He was about to say something - whether in protest to the pegging comment or just to question why Blitzo would think Millie would have taken a pregnancy test in their boss's apartment instead of their own - when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking over, he saw Millie, holding out her hand with a fairly serious expression on her face. Without a word, Moxxie handed the phone over to his wife.

"Blitzo," Millie said into the phone, pausing to exchange a brief look with her husband. They both knew what she was about to say, and they both knew Blitzo probably wasn't going to take it well. She let out a heavy sigh and finished the statement. "I think you're gonna wanna have a talk with Loona."

#Helluva Boss #Blitzo #Helluva Blitzo #Moxxie #Helluva Moxxie #Millie #Helluva Millie #Helluva Boss Fanfic #Kind of Naugty #Tagging to be safe because of Blitzo's comment

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protokirby · 10 months ago

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Last night while I was attempting to stay asleep, I woke up needing to go to the bathroom. Like- an emergency amount of needing to go. Except I was in such a state of tired that it didn't register as an emergency. Like actually I'm not joking my half asleep brain went "That's someone else's" as in I somehow thought that my need to go was someone else's need to go and I'm ???????

I went back to sleep so many times (maybe about 5 times, possibly almost 10. Weird that I remember this at all?) until eventually it woke me up enough for me to realize I had to go and contemptuously ran for the bathroom.

That's not the end of how crazy my night was. The dream I was having before it all started kept continuing whenever I fell back asleep every time except it got weirder with every time I woke up and fell back to sleep.

It involved pokemon characters. My favorite kinds of dreams.

So- the dream, as far as I remember, Crispin had to deliver a package of some sort to someone. Why? Dunno. That information is lost to mindscape history. He was transporting it through a place from my childhood.

Oh and some memories from Bible reading worked its way into the dream at some point. I have been trying to read the Bible more lately soooo- yeah. In the dream I heard something akin to "...and an angel of the Lᴏʀᴅ said to Crispin, you best deliver that sparkly white thing." :| I- do not know it it would be blasphemous to think that's funny- but I kinda think that's funny- so for the sake of my walk with God I hope it's not blasphemous- idk though. Might need a stronger Christian to help with the answer to that.

Aight so anyhoo- the sparkly white thing? It was Pecharunt. And also a giraffe at the same time. And covered in white glowing fog.

Did Crispin ever bring that to whoever needed it? No clue. After my trip to the bathroom the dream didn't continue when I got back to bed.

I remember a second dream though from after getting back to bed. It involved pokemon mystery dungeon if it had minecraft physics in the dungeons. Drayton was there in some super pretty dungeon and - I can't remember if it was actually Drayton or an au version of him I have who's 100% more likely to be digging around in some cool place (to build magic power to set himself up for a life where he can lay around as much as he wants. au Drayton is still Drayton)

I don't remember much else from that dream because I woke up with another emergency level need to go. I have been so dehydrated for days so I can't understand why that happened but this isn't making me want to drink anything. Waking up needing to pee is mad annoying I got - hardly any sleep because I couldn't go back to bed the second time

At least I had fun dreams. (Also the confusion in the first time is wildly hilarious in hindsight)

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redpandaramblings · 4 years ago

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Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 2.

Part 1- Here

Next- Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate

Where we left off-

You twisted the hem of your shirt, silence growing as you thought. Your mother wasn’t saying anything new. On your lonelier days, like today, the words sounded eerily similar to your own thoughts. If this conversation had happened on any other day, you knew how forceful your ‘No!’ would be. But today was today.

“Okay.” Your whisper seemed more like a shout into the quiet. “I’ll do it. I’ll go.”

“You will? Oh Y/N! How wonderful! Since I already said yes, of course. You’ll need to come home right away, the omiai is the day after tomorrow, and we need to get you a proper outfit!”

“So soon?” Your mind raced. Bakugou was still in heat. What would you do? There was no way… Your thoughts slowed. But there was a way. Plenty of ways. Katsuki had many friends that could look after him. Friends he was actually comfortable letting into his apartment. You knew he’d let Kirishima take care of him. Mina absolutely could convince him to eat and drink, no matter how grumpy he was. There was a pain in your chest as a familiar thought wound through your brain. Katsuki didn’t need you. He never had. As if in a fog, you heard yourself saying, “I’ll need a little bit to take care of some things here; but I can be home tonight. See you soon.” You heard your mother happily continue rambling even as you hung up. You stared at the wall for a few minutes, unseeing. You were really doing this, huh? Pushing yourself up, you rummaged around your kitchen; finding bags and filling them with snacks and drinks. Before you could think better of it, you dialed Kirishima. He answered on the fourth ring. “Hey dude! What’s up?” “Kiri, I need your help. Can you come over now? I’ll explain when you get here.” “Yeah man, I’ll be right over. Hang tight.” A few short minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You opened it to see a tall, concerned looking redhead. You ushered him inside as you went back to the kitchen, continuing to make up care packs. “Hey, now what is it, Y/n? It sounded serious.” “It is and it isn’t,” you say; looking over at him as you shove gatorade into bags. “There’s a… family emergency. I need to go home right away for a few days.” “Ouch, that’s rough man! It’s Bakubro having his heat right now?” “Exactly. That’s why I need your help. Can you bring one of these bags to him each day? Make sure he eats and drinks at least? I know he trusts you.”

Kirishima nodded enthusiastically. “Of course man! Anything to help!” He looked over the supplies, inconspicuously checking what you’d already packed. “You want to scent some stuff for him before you go too?” You shook your head, forcing yourself not to wince as you lied to your friend yet again. “I’d better not. I don’t want to give him a bag of stuff soaked in distressed alpha scent. Besides, I scented some stuff for him this morning; that should be enough.”

Kirishima frowned but nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Have you told him yet?”

You shake your head. “No. No reason to stress him out until I know for sure what I’m dealing with, and call when I have a better idea. Might not even take a full day if I’m lucky.” “Yeah, hopefully. It’s really shit timing, isn’t it.” You nod as you place the last of the bags on the counter, satisfied with your work. “It is. But I trust you to take care of him. You’re a great alpha like that.” Kirishima chuckled and preened at the praise. “I am great, aren’t I? I’ll do my best, but I’m no match for you.” You give a small, tight smile as you walk to your junk drawer, rummaging until you find one of your spare keys. You chuck it at your friend, who catches it easily. “Here. This way you can let yourself in and just grab a bag each day.”

“Can do, Dudette! Anything else?”

You considered as you retrieved a duffle bag, making a mental list of what you’d need to pack. “Not really? I haven’t told anybody else that I’m going yet. Wasn’t sure if I should ask Mina or some of the others to check in too. You know how Bakugou can be with his heats, and I want to make sure he’s comfortable.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. I’ll probably wait til tomorrow and see what he wants to do.” Kiri watched you as you paced around. “Need any help packing?”

You nodded with half a smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Kiri.”

In a few short hours you were packed with enough supplies for a few days, and on a train headed home. Your mother had agreed to meet you at the station. The scenery rushed by a window in a blur. Your eyes were unfocused as you watched the view whip by. You were really doing this. For the first time in years, you were leaving your omega… No. You were leaving Katsuki alone for his heat. You were leaving him alone so you could go to a marriage date. To meet an omega theoretically with the intention of bonding. Guilt weighed heavily on you as you exited the train hours later. You saw your mother waving to you from across the station. This was it. No turning back now.

~~~

Bakugou growled as the morning light streamed in his window, smacking him across the eyes. He wished he could just sleep until the whole fucking heat was over. He hated everything about it. He hated the itching of his skin, the hazy fog affecting his brain, the slimy slick that oozed out of him steadily. He hated the burning need to fuck and breed and to have his alpha close. Bakugou snarled to himself. He refused to be a slave to his weak ass biology. He wasn’t some weak, pitiful, flower. He was a top ten hero! He was going to be number one! And the next bastard who told him he should be home tending to his pups and letting an alpha take care of him was going to get an explosion up the ass. As if he needed some knotted headed alpha. Bakugou glanced at his clock, frowning when he saw the time. Usually his alpha would be here by now to drop off his care bag. He scratched at the swollen, irritated scent glands on his neck. It’s not like he fucking cared if Y/N was late. Just, he couldn’t remember the last time she had been. And maybe he was getting antsy because the strength of his heat scent was already starting to overpower the scented blanket he had woven into his nest, close to his pillows.

A knock sounded from the door, and with a relieved huff Bakugou rushed to answer it. He took a deep breath in to calm himself, before flinging the door open.

“About fucking time you showed up, shitty…” He trailed off as his brain registered the tall, red-headed man standing in front of him was very much not his alpha. “What the fuck are you doing here, shitty hair?”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish. “Hey man, sorry not to call beforehand, but I told Y/N I wouldn’t.” Confused, Bakugou looks Kirishima up and down again, this time spotting the familiar bag the redhead was holding. “What the fuck are you doing with my stuff? Where’s my shitty alpha?” Kiri frowned and held up the bag. “Don’t call Y/N shitty. She asked me to bring this over. Look, man, can I just come in and explain what’s going on?”

Reluctantly, Bakugou stood aside holding the door open as his friend came in. The blond stuck his head into the hallway, half looking for his alpha. His inner omega growing restless when there was no sign of you. With a grumble, he slammed the door, turning to where his friend had thrown himself onto the sofa. “So what the fuck, Kirishima? Where’s Y/N? Why didn’t she come here herself?”

Kiri tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. “She had some sort of family emergency and had to go home for a bit. She didn’t want to worry you because she didn’t know how serious it was or how long it would take. She said she’d call and update us when she’s able to.”

Bakugou’s omega whimpered in his chest. His alpha was gone? His alpha had left him alone when he couldn’t follow to make sure they were alright? He knew how much your family stressed you out normally, let alone in an emergency. A traitorous part of his brain whispered to him, asking if this wasn’t exactly what he had wanted? Hadn’t he growled at his mate, wanting to be left alone? Bakugou hadn’t realized there was a plaintive whine escaping his throat until Kirishima wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, bro, it’s okay. I know it’s rough, but I’m here. And I can call Mina and Sero if you want company. Been a while since we’ve had a pack get together. Y/N might not be here right now, but she wanted to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”

Bakugou nodded stiffly as he went to go paw through the bag Kirishima had brought.

Jerky, drinks, chocolate- Bakugou frowned. “Was this the only bag?”

“I mean, there’s a bag for each day for about a week’s worth; so I just grabbed one. Why man, something missing? Need me to go get you something?”

Katsuki shook his head. He wasn’t going to ask Kirishima of all people where his usual bag of scented items was. If Y/N was in a rush, that would explain it. Bakugou hoped that was the case, and he wouldn’t have to actually ask you to scent things for him again. He’d rather be kidnapped by villains again than admit to how much your rich chocolate scent soothed him and helped him sleep peacefully. There was no way the items you had left yesterday would last him through the rest of his heat.

“Actually, shitty hair, could you go get me some Yakult? Been craving it this heat.” Kiri jumped up with a grin. “Sure, bro! No problem! Be right back!” The omega gave a lazy wave as Kiri jogged out the door. As soon as the door shut, he bolted to the bathroom and applied as much scent blocker as he could stand. It wouldn’t hold up long against his heat pheromones, but should work for what he intended to do. Bakugou grabbed his keyring from the hook by the door, rushed down the hallway to the stairway, and started climbing upward; taking the stairs three at a time. In less than a minute, he was standing outside the door to your apartment.

It felt strange, Katsuki thought as he flipped through his keys until he found yours. It was strange that in all your years of dating he had only been inside your apartment a handful of times. He unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping inside. As the wall of scent that was uniquely you smacked him in the face, he felt the tension in his shoulders ease. Maybe the strangest thing was that you lived three floors apart instead of sharing a space together. Because then he wouldn’t be here, doing this; he thought as he made a beeline to your bedroom. He knew exactly what he was after. Recently scented items lost their smell fairly quickly. But something you used daily, with your scent glands brushing against it every time? That would last him a month, if not longer. Besides. You were his alpha. He wouldn’t have to come in and steal your pillow if you had just scented more stuff for him in the first place. He buried his face in your pillow and inhaled deeply. He whimpered as your rich scent filled his nose, causing his slick to increase. Reluctantly he made his way to the door with his prize, even as every instinct told him to build a nest on the soft bed and wait for his mate to come home to him.

~~~~~

You sighed, adjusting the cuffs of the outfit your mother had picked and shoved you into. Today was the day. The day you met your perspective “bride.” You snorted at the old fashioned ideology. At times like these you felt like you understood Bakugou better. Omegas deserved to be treated as more than just their dynamic. Luckily, most of society agreed nowadays; with omegas able to hold any job and no one being forced to marry. Unluckily, the omiai remained one of the last extremely traditional accepted ceremonies. Your parents were in another room, exchanging your scented handkerchief with one from whoever the poor omega was. According to tradition, if you both went into heat and rut upon scenting each other; you would both be married and mated that same day. What happened more often, you thought cynically, is as long as you didn’t gag at each other’s scent, you’d meet in person to see if you found each other compatible.

You were broken out of your ruminations by the sound of a door opening. Your mother practically skipped toward you, holding out the paper wrapped package with the hanky inside. You tuned out her nattering about how good this match could be as you unwrapped the paper and brought the cloth to your nose. Your brow furrowed. You inhaled deeply, just to make sure. The sharp tang of citrus hit your nose. You knew this scent from somewhere. “Hey mom,” you spoke softly. “I think I’d like to see them now.”

“Oh!” Your mother blinked in surprise. “Of course, of course! This way!”

Your mother led you into an elegant private room. You settled onto a cushion as your parents went to see if the omega had agreed to meet. Glancing about the room, you wondered exactly how many times you’d see the inside of this teahouse if you kept agreeing to these meetings. It didn’t feel right, you thought with a frown. But if you gave up on Bakugou, this was your destiny. Awkward meeting after awkward meeting until you clicked enough with someone to risk settling down.

You glanced up at the sound of the door. In came your parents, then the Yokomadas. You did a double take as the final person, the omega you were here to meet, entered the room. They looked equally as startled as your eyes locked.

“Y/N?”

“Denki?!”

That's it for part 2! Thank you for reading, and stay tuned for part 3! If anyone has any questions regarding the fic or how this particular omegaverse operates, please feel free to shoot me an ask.

Taglist- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04 Also, please note that @snuggleyourredpandas is my main account, so it you see a message reply from them, that's me!

#reader insert #bnha reader insert #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #reader insert angst #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #omegaverse #omega bakugou #alpha reader #multi part fic

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mayans-sauce · 4 years ago

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Gemma’s Daughter (1/?)

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, yelling, cheating, heartbreak, physical fight

Request by anon which you can find HERE

A/N: thank you for the request! Sorry it’s a little late. I changed it up a bit by having Jax and Gemma still be alive as well as some other things. I’m really happy with how this turned out so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it <3

GROUP CHAT for updates!

Gif Credit: @pedropcl

This was the third time Angel’s phone went straight to voicemail. It was the middle of the night, and he said he would be home 3 hours ago for his and your movie night which at the end of it, you would share some thrilling life-changing news. You were worried sick about him not returning your calls, worried that something serious had happened. What if he was hurt? Or worse, dead? You decided to shoot him a text; maybe he was doing something important, making it so he couldn’t pick up right now.

📲 Angel😇

Baby, where are you? I’m worried! Please just let me know if you’re safe ok? I have something exciting to tell you. Love you❤️

You texted some of the other guys. None of them had heard anything from him. They told you not to worry. He was probably caught up with something and would turn up eventually. Luckily your brother Jax picked up when you called. You asked him for some guidance on if you should sound the alarm or wait until Angel gave off noise. Since he was in the same life as your husband, you figured he would know what’s best. He told you better to wait. That he was most likely dealing with something that had taken his full attention. If he didn’t turn up tomorrow, Jackson said he would take the drive over to help you look for him. You were so thankful for your big brother. He was always there to help you whenever he could. To protect and love you.

You refused to go to sleep before he came home or before he called you, so you knew he was safe and sound. Some movie was playing on the TV that you didn’t pay much attention to. The battle between you and your eyelids was still going strong. All of a sudden, you were woken up from your zombie state by the front door opening and closing. Footsteps that belonged to no other than Angel made their way into the dim-lit living room.

“Angel!” His movements were sort of clumsy. A sign that he had been drinking. You came to stand at his side. Holding him up by his forearm as it looked like he was going to faint face down ass up on the floor any second. Your nose scrunched up at the strong smell of the alcohol on him. “Angel, I was worried sick! Where were you?” “I was out with my brother.” His words had a pinch of sluggishness in them as he spoke. “We were supposed to have our movie night! We haven’t seen each other all week, and this was going to be our evening together.”

“Ugh,” he tugged himself out of your grasp, which took you by surprise. “Why are you so bossy all the time? I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.” His words started to sting a little, but you didn’t think that much of it. He was shitfaced drunk, and he wasn’t his usual self. “Angel I-“ “No, you listen here, I’m sick and tired of you always going; oh Angel this oh Angel that,” he tried to mimic your voice but failed miserably, “like shut up. Shut the fuck up for one goddamn second in your life and stop being so fucking clingy.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing from him. The tears in your eyes started to build up as you held two protective hands over your stomach. Your mouth was slightly agape in disbelief. “A-Angel ple-please-“ “No, I don’t fucking care right now. I’m leaving.” And just like that, he turned around and walked out. The force of the door slamming shut shook the whole house as you were left with an emptiness inside you.

The tears ran down your cheeks like it was pouring rain outside. Your body trembled at the anxiety and stress you were feeling at what just happened. You looked down at where your hands were laid over your stomach. “I-I’m so sorry li-little bean. I’m so so-sorry, my sweetheart.”

In the morning, you woke up in the worst state you have ever been in. The same clothes as yesterday were still on you. The pounding in your head wouldn’t seem to stop. Your eyes raw from crying, and your throat felt like rough sandpaper. Wrapping the blanket around yourself, you padded down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As you stared out the kitchen window, you saw your neighbor playing with their kids, which started the production of tears again.

A gasp left you of the sound from the front door opening and Angel’s voice calling for you. You met him in the living room—both of you staring at each other without saying a word. You should be mad at him, shouldn’t you? To scream at him for saying those hurtful things? But for some reason, your heart wouldn’t allow you to do so. You were just relieved that he had come home.

Angel was the first one to break the awkward silence. “Please… sit,” he pointed towards the sofa. You sat at one end while he took his place at the other. His face was in his hands. It looked like he had something to share with you. “Angel… what is it?” Your voice was nothing but a whisper. His eyes locked with yours and his heart broke when he saw what mess he had left you in. “I’m sorry for how I acted. Yelling at you like that…saying things that aren’t true… it’s not what you deserve. I don’t know what came over me and… I have something I need to tell you.” He looked up to you as tears welled up in his eyes. You gave him a slight nod, a sign that he could go ahead with whatever it was.

“When I left in the night, I was supposed to go over to pop's house to sleep. I didn’t take the bike because I was too shitfaced to drive, so I went on foot hoping that it would sober me up… and... I just kept walking and walking until I found myself… not at Felipe’s.” He peeked up to you from where he was looking down at the floor just a moment ago. His heart broke into microscopic pieces when he saw on your face that you knew where his story was most likely going. As much as he didn’t want to finish, he had to. He had to come clean and straight with you. You deserved that much.

“I found myself at Adelita’s place… and… we hooked up.” The silence after he said that was hefty and long. Once again, he was the one to break it. “Querida… it’s the biggest fucking mistake I have ever made in my fucking life. I don’t know what the fuck came over me to do something like that to you… to us.”

He tried to get a hold of your hand, but you pulled away in disgust. You didn’t want him to touch you after he had been feeling all up on her in the night while you were home alone crying yourself to sleep. You had no words, none. Your mouth was opening and closing, but nothing seemed to escape it. “Please say something.” “Where is she?” “I don’t see ho-“ “Goddammit Angel, just tell me where the fuck she is!” The scream you let out startled him. “Sh-she’s at the clubhouse… there was some emergency that needed to be taken care of, and it couldn’t wait till later.”

At lightning speed, you had grabbed the car keys and were out the door. Angel registered what the fuck was going on when he heard the engine's roar from the car. He was quick to his feet and on his bike to try and catch up before you did anything stupid.

Not thinking straight, you barge through the Templo doors to be met with Adelita and the rest of the MC standing over a map planning something. “Sweetheart, you aren’t supposed to be here,” Bishop said with a stern manner. You didn’t hear him. You didn’t care that you weren’t supposed to be in the room. All you could think about was the rage filling you up as she stood there gloating at you. A smug look on her face that you knew where your man had been last night, all cozy and tangled up together in her sheets.

She didn’t expect you to jump her and start beating the shit out of her; she knew you weren’t that type of girl, so it startled her when you did. That’s when Angel walked in out of breath and saw the scene in front of him that had him stand dead in his tracks as he watched. Your hands punched and scratched as you screamed, "I'm the mother of his child, not you bitch! Don’t ever touch him again!” You didn’t register what you said, and now everyone knew. She tried to fight back, but you were much more powerful than her.

It took the guys a few moments to pull you off as they were in sheer shock at what was going on in front of them. You were usually a shy and sweet girl that wouldn’t even hurt a fly. They were surprised that you so quickly took her down. Once pulled off, Taza escorted Adelita out since it was time for her to leave. “How in the fuck did you do that?” They almost said in unison. "Jax may be my brother, but my mother is Gemma, and you definitely don’t want to fuck with us.” You knew your mother would be proud of you for standing up for yourself and for putting that bitch in her place.

“Wait… you’re pregnant.” “Yes, Angel, I’m fucking pregnant, and you’ve just fucked up our whole relationship, our future.” The tears that were threatening to spill were managed to be put under control by your choice of not showing any of them how you truly felt, sad, empty, alone, and betrayed by Angel’s choices of thinking with his dick and not his fucking brain.

You were about to storm out when he grabbed you by the forearm. “Wait, please… we can fix this! Please let me fix this dulce.” “No, Angel,” you twisted your arm to get loose of his grip; the touch of him made you cringe, “the damage has already been done. I can’t fucking stand to look at you. Not now. I’m going home… I’m going home to Charming for a while.” And with that, you left Angel there to mend his broken pieces at losing the two of you…

To Be Continued

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Thank you for reading❤️ A quick reblog and feedback would be so appreciated❤️ Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist.

MAYANS MC TAGLIST: @blessedboo @60shannon @bellisperennis0 @capnsaveahoe @diaryofkali @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @xvvalx @missswritings @theocatkov @pinguinstudiert @chibsytelford @encounterthepast @rawrlittlepanda-95 @beeroses @siriussnape07 @adaydreamaway08 @miss-nori85 @oldstuffnewstuff @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @jatriciaaa @browneyes912 @cole-winchester @blackksunflower12 @phoenixhalliwell @cant-decide-at-this-moment @love-mesome-me @holl2712 @jennisdirtyimagines @balladbloodwrites @lilacyennefer @smallflower16 @marvelmaree @brwnlikefoxy @kaylaygrace @stupiddsapphicc @violet624 @boomclapxox @mijop @macgruberrr @queen-under-the-shire @missihart23 @vixemi @heeeeeres-saint @paintballkid711 @x-goddess-of-nature-x @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mrsmarvelous1995

ANGEL REYES TAGLIST: @spnaquakindgdom @Negansnympho89

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blossom-hwa · 3 years ago

Text

Stardust - CHANGMIN

So like. This was the first full scenario I wrote for TBZ and I can’t believe I wrote this before actually even STARTING No Air, but whatever! It was cute! I couldn’t help myself but I didn’t want to post this before No Air so that’s why it’s late

Thank you to @deathbykpopboys for helping me put this scenario together! Honestly I don’t think I’d ever write anything without sunny hhhh she’s always so great with ideas <3

Pairing: Changmin x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, a little angst if you squint, teacher!au

Triggers: alcohol, cursing

Word Count: 2.7k

Changmin sometimes thinks you’re a little too perfect to exist.

TBZ Masterlist | No Air | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

Friday nights are always fun, for Changmin. Friday’s the last day of the work week and kind of blends into the weekend, and because he’s a schoolteacher, he (sort of) gets the weekend off. Sure, he might be making lesson plans or writing reports or doing other important, not fun things, but he also has his stolen moments for dance or shopping or things that he doesn’t have time to do during the week. He’s free, more or less.

The last Friday night of each month, though, Changmin enjoys the most, when he, Jacob, and Kevin meet up for cheap food and drinks. And as much as Changmin likes to wreak havoc on the lives of his fellow teachers (mostly by scaring the wits out of them with dolphin screams and horror movie masks), he really does enjoy their presence in his life and appreciates them for it.

They haven’t a missed a night so far, not since that time Jacob was out with the flu and Kevin had a family emergency. And even though Changmin’s definitely done and said some stupid (read: really embarrassing) things while under the influence, the pros of each night always end up outweighing the cons. So if Changmin wakes up the next morning with a hangover, well, that’s just a side effect of having some fun.

But sometimes he has thoughts. Thoughts that he’s repressed so well he might not even register them, but that exist nonetheless. And Changmin, sadly, is a truthful drunk. His thoughts come spilling out of his mouth, mostly unfiltered, whenever he’s had enough to drink.

And this week, Changmin has been having thoughts. Thoughts that he isn’t sure he wants to spill.

If he drinks, they’ll flood out. It’s the way Changmin works – he’s had enough experiences with alcohol and his brain that he knows what will happen. As he stares at the soju bottle on the table, he knows that if he drinks, he’ll probably regret it in the morning. Not necessarily because he’ll remember what he says – his memory tends to get a bit spotty even after a round of light drinking – but because Kevin definitely will.

Normally, Changmin would praise God for Kevin's ability to remember drunk things. Coupled with his inability to lie, it makes for so much potent blackmail. Sure, Kevin makes Changmin and Jacob swear not to talk about anything he said under the influence, but Changmin isn't an angel the way Jacob is. If it came down to it, he'd sell Kevin's secrets for a single corn chip and some entertainment.

(Okay, not really. But the point still stands.)

If he complained about this to people, they’d probably just laugh and say something about how Kevin is a precious pure meme, that he’d never sell out Changmin’s deepest thoughts for anything. After several years of working with him, though, Changmin knows better.

(He’ll just say that sometimes, Mr. Kev Kev isn't the happy-go-lucky meme-y little boy that everyone likes to make him out to be.)

So maybe Changmin shouldn't be drinking tonight. There isn’t necessarily a lot on his mind, but he’s been thinking of things that he doesn't want spilled just yet, and drinking will only make that possibility a reality.

Isn’t that what alcohol is for, though? To make those worries disappear, if only for a short while? The soju beckons at Changmin, even more so when Kevin actually opens the bottle. Eventually, he throws caution to the wind and fills his own glass.

It’s a clear night, mostly. A bit cloudy, but no sign of rain, and there’s a pleasant little breeze that feels cool against his cheeks. Sitting at one of the small tables outside of the restaurant, Changmin loses himself in the food and the conversation.

After an hour, Jacob decides he needs to leave because he’s supposed to meet with his family the next day and can’t get too plastered. Kevin calls him a noob while making a face, but Jacob, being the angel he is, just pats him on the head on his way out. Privately, Changmin thinks Kevin is much more of a noob than Jacob, but the alcohol hasn’t addled his mind enough to say that out loud just yet.

At some point, though, the world becomes pleasantly muddy. Changmin can register what’s going on at a distant level and he probably shouldn’t drink too much more, but he takes a last shot anyway, just as Kevin asks a slightly slurred “How’s life with Y/N?”

A stupid smile stretches across Changmin’s lips. “Kevin, oh my God, she’s perfect.” He grins, the breeze cool against his flushed cheeks. "She’s so beautiful, it doesn't make sense that we exist in the same world."

Kevin mutters something that sounds like "whipped" and "so soft."

Changmin is sure that if he were sober, he would've attacked his fellow teacher by now, but his tipsy haze is too pleasant to interrupt. He just wants to keep talking. "Kevin," he whines. "Pay attention."

"Okay." Face flushed, Kevin puts his chin on his fist. "'M listening."

"Y/N’s so beautiful." Dimly, Changmin is aware that he's just repeating himself, but he can't help it. The point needs emphasis. "Kevin, she’s so amazing. So much more amazing than me. So smart. Did you know Y/N knows like ten programming languages?"

Tipsily, Kevin shakes his head. "What... what's a program."

"Computer shit." Changmin plays idly with his shot glass. "Doesn't matter. So smart, so nice, so... lovely, Kevin. Y/N’s good at everything. She cuts fruit for me when I work late and make me go to sleep. She doesn’t know anything about dance and tries to help anyway. She works so hard and never takes anyone’s shit and she always knows when I need time alone or when I need comfort.” His mouth draws down into a slight frown. “She’s like... she’s like..."

Why is it so hard to come up with something to explain you? Your entire existence defies definition. How can he even find something comparable to the way you sparkle in his eyes?

Ignoring Kevin’s gaze trained on him, Changmin slumps over the table, eyes gazing out at the dark night. A few stars manage to glitter past the clouds and the piercing lights of the Seoul skyline.

Stars. Something tugs at the back of Changmin’s brain. Stars. Sparkly.

An image of your smile pops, unbidden, in his mind. Your bright eyes glimmer. Like stars.

Oh.

Stardust.

Yes, stardust.

You're like stardust, warm and gentle and... magical. Magical to the touch.

"She’s like." Changmin hiccups. "She’s like stardust, Kevin. Stardust. Perfect. Warm.”

A tear trickles down Kevin's cheek. Changmin has exactly two seconds to ready himself in his drunken haze before Kevin launches himself at his purple hoodie, loosely grasping at the soft cloth as he fully encases Changmin within his arms. "Ji Changmin," he sobs, muffled, "that is the most adorable thing I've ever heard you say."

Even sober, Changmin doesn't think he'd know what to say in response to that, so he just stays silent. It's not like Kevin would even hear him over the sound of his overemotional crying.

Anyway, Kevin's hug feels nice. Warm. Changmin doesn't think he needs to speak words at the moment, he's too comfortable. It's not the same as being in your arms, but he'll settle for it now. He burrows a little deeper into his friend's hold.

“You little child, you,” Kevin sobs into his shoulder. “You’re so sweet and small and warm, I can’t believe you exist.”

Changmin doesn’t feel like replying. There’s a bubble of something growing in his chest that he can’t entirely decipher right now, and his brain has focused on that. It’s some sort of emotion, he thinks. It doesn’t feel very pleasant.

His head gets pulled out of Kevin’s arms. He whines a little, annoyed by the lack of warmth, but he doesn’t really have the presence of mind to do anything but sit there limply as Kevin starts shaking him back and forth, still wailing about how “adorable his little Ji Changminnie is.”

The bubble keeps growing as Kevin keeps shaking him. It doesn’t feel like vomit – Changmin knows that sensation a bit too well – but it makes him feel a little sick. A little upset. The bubble feels suffocating, cold, but it also burns.

Not vomit. He doesn’t feel nauseous. But still unpleasant.

Kevin goes back to hugging Changmin into his chest, which soothes the bubble a little bit. The soft warmth of Kevin’s sweater smooths the burning and takes away the edge of the cold. But the bubble still stays as Changmin rocks back and forth in his friend’s hold, blankly trying to decipher the stupid emotion growing in his heart.

“There’s a bubble.” The words slip out of his mouth just past Kevin’s ear. “There’s a bubble in my chest.”

“Bubble?” Kevin pulls back slightly, flushed face confused. “What bubble?”

Changmin vaguely gestures at his chest as best he can with Kevin’s arms partially trapping his hands. “Here. Doesn’t feel good.”

Kevin’s eyes squint. “Need to vomit?”

“Nooooo,” Changmin whines. “Kevin, it’s a bubble.” He pauses. “Think it’s an emotion.”

He hears Kevin suck in a breath. “I can’t believe my precious little Scorpio child is finally feeling emotions,” the older boy says in a stage whisper, loud enough for at least the next two tables to hear. Changmin has enough presence of mind to slap him. “Hey!”

“It hurts.” Changmin’s lips pout deeper. “I don’t like it.”

“Aww, no, baby.” Kevin pats his head – a little too hard, but Changmin can deal with that. “Why does it hurt? What emotion is it?”

Changmin racks his brains for the word. It’s not a good feeling, so he tries to eliminate the good words as they pass through his mind. Not pleasant. Definitely not happy. Not calm, either.

Sadness? Maybe that’s part of it, but it’s not specific enough. Anger? Not really.

Fear?

Changmin isn’t scared of many things. He loves horror movies and thinks possessed dolls are cute, and it’s hard for anyone to really startle him. Fear is not an emotion that regularly appears in his repertoire.

But this time…

“I’m scared.” The two words slip out of his mouth, quiet, lonely. “’M scared, Kevin.”

Kevin pulls back again. “Changmin, you’re never scared.”

“I am now.” He purses his lips petulantly.

“Why?”

Unconsciously, the corners of his lips turn down even further into a blank pout. "Sometimes I think Y/N’s gonna leave. Slip through my fingers."

Even tipsy, Changmin can tell there are more tears welling up in Kevin's eyes. "But… you love each other?"

"Y/N’s stardust." Changmin's pout deepens. "Too perfect. She’s gonna realize that, that I'm not... I'm not good enough but she’s too nice to say that so she’ll just slip away." He hiccups again, feeling his cheeks burn with drink, fluttering his fingers loosely to make sure Kevin gets the point. "Like stardust."

Kevin remains silent for one, two, three seconds. Changmin takes that time to drain the last little bit of soju left in his cup.

Then Kevin nearly knocks the cup out of his hand when he literally grabs Changmin and forces him to curl up into his sweater, nose buried in the soft folds of cloth. “You beautiful, pure little child, you,” he coos, patting Changmin’s head (still a little too hard, but Changmin really doesn’t feel the need to deal with it right now). “You small little child. You poor, small child. Y/N is so in love with you, there’s no way she’ll ever leave.”

“Stardust,” Changmin reminds Kevin, words muffled into his sweater.

“Stardust,” Kevin agrees. “But good stardust. Gonna stay with you. Never going to leave.”

Changmin doesn’t remember much of what happens after that. He knows that they eventually pay for everything and Kevin’s partner picks them up (well, they were the one who was supposed to pick the two of them up. He doesn’t actually register the driver’s face, but Changmin hears Kevin calling them “love muffin, better than Beyonce,” so it’s probably them. He refuses to acknowledge any alternatives), but he’s too drunk and too tired to process anything else.

Somehow, he wakes up the next day curled up in his bed, forehead threatening to split from the dull pain. Mentally, he thanks himself for closing the shades before he passed out last night (or was it morning? He isn’t completely sure when he got home) so that the sunlight isn’t adding to his headache.

Get up, Changmin, he tells himself, summoning the strength to swing his legs out of bed. Step by step, he exits his room and slowly brushes his teeth before heading toward the kitchen for a bottle of water or something to get rid of the pounding in his head.

Changmin’s so out of it that he doesn’t register the smell of something cooking wafting out of the kitchen before he’s almost in it. He finally stops, confused, just in time to see your head poke out from the kitchen entrance.

For a second, Changmin just stares at you, brain buffering as he tries to come up with a suitable greeting in his hungover state. There’s this look on your face that Changmin’s muddled mind can’t seem to decipher.

Oh, God.

You look like you’re about to cry.

He panics. What did he do wrong? Did he say something bad last night? He can’t remember anything – how badly did he screw up, what the hell did he do –

Then you leap at him, much the same way Kevin did last night, and bury your face into his shoulder.

“Ji Changmin,” you say, words muffled into his rumpled shirt, “I love you so much.”

Changmin’s mouth can only come up with a confused “huh?”

You pull back, eyes shining with tears, but mouth stretched into a beautiful, beautiful smile. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember what you told Kevin last night,” you say teasingly, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in your gaze.

Slowly, slowly, the events of last night begin to piece themselves together in Changmin’s brain. Every single stupid word he said to Kevin in his drunken stupor comes flooding back in one massive, jumbled mess.

He blushes.

“Ji Changmin.” You cup his puffy, red cheeks between your hands, voice trembling. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to slip through your fingers and, fucking, I don’t know, fly away. Because I am not perfect, I am not stardust, but god, I – you’re perfect for me. You are good enough for me, more than good enough for me. You are perfect, and I’m staying here forever. You’re not going to be able to get rid of me. Understood?”

“But –”

“Understood?”

Changmin stares into your shining eyes. Even with you standing right here, hands cradling his face with the gentlest touch, he can’t quite believe you’re real and not just some beautiful figment of his imagination. Slowly, slowly, one of his hands rises to touch the fingers resting against his cheek. Just to make sure this isn’t a dream.

Solid. Warm.

Not a dream.

This is real.

He nods dumbly, a stupid smile spreading across his face. “Okay.”

You crush him close again and this time, Changmin’s arms automatically move to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. He can feel a few tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you hold him tight, so tight, and he smiles, one hand coming up to pat your back.

You’re here. You’re here, alive, solid, real. He can feel your warmth against his body, feel your hair tickling his skin.

You may be ethereal. You may be something completely out of this world, beautiful, divine. You may be sparkling, glimmering, brilliant in the morning sunlight. You may be made of stardust, something too perfect (he’ll fight you on that) to exist on earth.

But now, with you wrapped warmly in his arms, Changmin realizes that even though you may be stardust, that doesn’t mean you’re going anywhere.

A tear slips out of his eye as he smiles.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 cheek pinch for changmin idk why I just think that’d be fun <3)

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omegasmileyface · 3 years ago

Text

Not in the Job Description

heres a silly lil Danny Phantom concept based entirely off a half-awake sleep-vision that made me laugh :) my subconscious brain is a genius at coming up with things that make just enough sense to be worth writing

summary: Danny's job at a local restaurant is surprisingly fulfilling, even after being crowned Ghost King. Speaking of that job, however, there are some intricacies to it that are hard to keep in mind during everyday life.

warnings: descriptions of nausea and mild sickness

words: 2180

AO3 link

===

Honestly, life was going pretty well at the moment for Danny Fenton. He wasn't even worried that it was a false security or a calm before a storm, because this kind of semi-serenity had been going on for more than a year. It was a long-term stability brought about by adaptation and putting in effort to get help and accommodation. Jazz would be proud!

Sometime at the beginning of Junior year, the Observants had chased him down and crowned him High Ghost King (much to the chagrin of both involved parties). It certainly added responsibility to Danny's plate, along with some new sensations and a series of crises (what didn't these days?), but a little political discussion with some of the more powerful ghosts ended with Danny deciding that, at least at the moment, the position didn't require him to do much more than he normally did. More ghosts would seek him out for help and he would do his best, and some "paperwork" (though there was very little paper involved and it was a lot of talking and oaths and rituals and such) happened about monthly. Otherwise, though, the Zone didn't need much more help than that, having survived off an absent King for centuries. Well, and the ambient purpose of the King as a sort of core for the Zone, but Danny didn't have to put in time or conscious effort for that.

Eventually that settled into normalcy, and Danny was back to worrying about the balance of schoolwork, self-care, and fighting. He still hadn't given up on the prospect of someday becoming an astronaut, and he was determined to have the grades for it. Don't get him wrong, he'd gotten way better about that! He'd formed a practiced, if not entirely stable, system that kept his grades at a solid B- / C+, while getting a solid 5-ish hours of sleep most nights and not bottling things up too much. It was about halfway through Junior year that he realized, with some help from his friends, that his ghosts fights were honestly pretty civil, at least against the regulars. Civil enough that he knew they had some respect for him, and was willing to risk asking for help. So a few weeks and awkward but not bad conversations later, and he had agreements with almost all his regular "foes" not to cause trouble within Amity from 11pm to 7am, 3pm on weekdays. It was more than half the day off-limits on school days, and plenty of ghosts made up for it to a degree by making themselves more common during the "permitted" hours, but it greatly increased Danny's well-being and school performance anyway. "Rivals" like Skulker and Technus had enough respect for Danny and his Lair to abide, and plenty even cared that he was taking care of himself, even between frequent sparring. Maybe a few were really just in fear of his new crown, but he chose to cautiously pretend that wasn't a possibility.

After graduation — he made Senior year with all As and Bs! — Danny's parents had encouraged him to get a part-time job over the summer. He had been interning at FentonWorks (paid! His parents might not be the most attentive but they certainly weren't unfair) since he had accidentally revealed himself a few years back, and they had been thrilled to hear that he still intended to go into NASA if possible, and had done whatever they could to help. They recommended the job because, as good as a paid scientific internship was on a resume, it would help to have a variety of activity and the opportunity to get recommendations from employers who weren't liable to nepotism. After searching local businesses, Danny found a small sandwich shop founded by a middle-aged couple who had moved in and set up shop just before the ghost attacks began. Being close to the school but not far from the commercial sector and offering small portable food (no one wants to sit down for a meal when a spirit could come crashing through the window at any moment), the place got good enough business to pay the employees a proper living wage. Better yet, they were allowed to take home unsold food! Not to mention the owners were both very kind women who held smiling conversation with employees and customers alike. Danny was more than lucky to land such a nice job, even if it meant he had to get up at 7 five days a week.

All this is to say that it wasn't as surprising as it could have been that he was having a slow and pleasant day at work.

Both the owners were out for the day on some sort of vacation, so today it was just Danny and a short teenager named Casey manning the place. Most of their orders recently had been online due to an explosion causing road work near the restaurant and it was mid-morning, leaving work slow enough that they could afford to just have the two until lunch shift started. Danny was on cashier duty today, but unless the door bell sounded, he was helping Casey in the kitchen.

"Aw, man, we're almost out of tomatoes."

"Really?" Casey looked up to the shelf Danny was inspecting and indeed saw only 3 tomatoes. "Huh, guess they didn't restock yesterday. Well, we probably shouldn't risk needing more before the day's out, do you want me to go get more?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah, I can go. I think I could use the fresh air." He said that a lot, especially as an excuse when his ghost sense went off, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. He never had liked being confined.

Casey checked the monitor to see if they'd gotten any new online orders. Since there was a grocery store just a block away, any time someone needed a quick restock they tended to just walk.

They looked up to see Danny already had his jacket on and was looking them in the eye. "Would you take over my position until I come back?"

"Of course. Ten minutes?"

With a nod and a smile, Danny was out the back door.

===

After a moment of habitually wiping down the counters, Casey went up to the register in case a customer appeared.

It was even quieter than before for a few minutes, so they busied themself with mini restocks and organization. They were in the middle of stacking some paper coffee cups when they started to feel dizzy. There had been this subtle pressure on their chest since Danny left, which they figured was anxiety for working the restaurant alone for the first time, and now it had solidified into a warm nausea that flared whenever they exhaled.

With the disinterested panic that came from having strange things happen for years, they wondered if they had missed their medication this morning. A quick glance at their phone, however, showed the notification for it checked off.

Putting the phone back away, Casey noticed the tips of their fingers were somewhat translucent. Alright then, it was definitely something to do with ghosts. Great! Just excellent. The panic was less disinterested this time.

They weren't familiar with any sort of ghost illness that made humans translucent, so they definitely needed to call someone to make sure nothing bad happened. It would be best to call the Fentons' public number so they could go over and get looked over by then. In the meantime, they should call Danny and ask him to hurry back. He shouldn't be much longer anyway.

Casey didn't even get the chance to act on their plan, however, before a short humanoid ghost appeared in the dining area. They didn't look to be up to anything, but Casey reached for the emergency ectoblaster beneath the register anyway. The nausea was getting worse, along with a new chill, and they couldn't be sure this new ghost wasn't somehow causing whatever they were going through.

The ghost looked at them with an expression that was almost desperate. "Ah! Kind human, thank you for your time." The ghost... bowed? "I am Eurusid, from the Spoken Channels. There has been a dispute which damaged public meeting grounds in the center of the Channels, and both groups refuse to allow the damage to be repaired except by the other group."

Casey's eyes narrowed. It was becoming difficult to stand with the dizziness, and if not the ghost himself, then whatever he was saying was probably a hallucination. They didn't even think about responding beyond a detached "what".

It was then that Danny re-entered the back door with the new tomatoes. Good thing, too. At least with another person there, Casey could confirm whether they were hallucinating.

===

Placing down the grocery bag and shrugging off his jacket in one motion, a skill only gained by years of laziness efficiency, Danny called toward the register. "Back!"

Once he caught sight of the teen, however, all casualness shed itself from his body and he rushed over to hold them. "Man, Casey, you feeling alright? You look really pale." The realization that their form was slightly translucent, despite the firm human heartbeat beneath, was drowned out by him finally noticing the ghost standing a few feet away. The reaction of his ghost sense had been so minor that he had ignored it.

He was surprised to see that he recognized the specter's face, marred as it may have been from worry and confusion aimed directly at Casey. "Eurusid? What's going on?"

As the ghost, still confused but unwilling to act impolitely, gathered his bearings and began to bow toward him, Danny's coworker shuddered under his hands, regaining his full attention. He thought back through the day's events for hints as to the situation, before swearing, cutting off whatever Eurusid was about to say.

Danny backed up and said, voice as clear as he could, "I recall my position."

Casey's reaction was immediate, a gasp of air like they had been kept from breathing and a return of their skin's human opacity. Danny rushed back over and put his hand on their back to steady them as their eyes narrowed and went slightly unfocused.

Figures, doesn't it? One of the many intricacies that had come up at his coronation Junior year that just hadn't come up enough to keep at the front of his mind. One of the defenses of the High Ghost Crown was the ability of the King to temporarily give their duty to someone else. As long as that person accepts, during a specified time they substitute for the King in dealing with political matters, as well as taking over as much as their ability allowed of the King's function to process the energy of the Realms.

Danny had no idea that this ability could be activated with words as vague as "take over my position", let alone that it could be used with a human. That potential had never come up during the ceremony, so for all he knew, a full ghost in his position couldn't substitute with a human. A human certainly shouldn't be able to take over any part of the energy processing, though maybe in Amity Park the average person processed enough environmental ectoplasmic energy to make it possible. Regardless of residence, though, it could not be good for Casey's body, which had no Core to properly process energy and had no human equivalent except perhaps a small emotional center in the brain, to even attempt to filter and manage some of the inherent energy of a dimension.

Their skin was still clammy and their coordination was shot. Ancients, if this is what an accidental substitution did to a human, Danny would have to word things very carefully when asking for help in the future.

"King Phantom?" Danny looked up to see that Eurusid was still floating there awkwardly. Right. He had two people here to help.

"Sorry, Eurusid. One moment, I'll be right with you." He turned back to his coworker, who looked confused and less lucid than ideal, but probably still lucid enough to realize this ghost had just called him "King Phantom". Well, he'd deal with that once it came to it. "Here, Casey, let's get you some water." He helped them walk back into the kitchen and sat them down on a bench by the back door. There was a chair in the register area, but they probably didn't want to feel exposed to the dining area like that, even with nobody but the ghost there.

Once handed the water, Casey sighed and eagerly drank from it, eyes closed. Danny rubbed his hand on their back a bit and promised to be back shortly before walking back out to meet Eurusid. Whatever he was here about was probably worth immediate attention but Danny was sure there'd be at least a solid minute of apologies on both sides before the matter was addressed. Hopefully both the Spoken Channels and Casey would be alright before the next shift came in.

#danny phantom #my writing #danny phantom fanfiction #ghost king danny #gkau crack baby !#ive been referring to this in my head as 'the wendys story' even though having it be a chain fast food restaurant doesnt quite work #ghost king hcs here very inspired by heavy on the heart light on the head by gothmoth and the a king in chains series by five-rivers #with some Pizzazz thrown in!#throne in . ha #one day ill come up with a complete and proper hc set for it but Not Today #me writing the sentence 'danny made senior year with all as and bs': dont cry dont cry dont say 'god i wish that were me'#oh also bear in mind ive never worked at a restaurant #unedited bc im impatient 😔

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Riding On

CH26- In Sickness And In Health

Summary: A bug hits the Adler household, and it isn’t pretty.

Warnings: Bad language, talks of puke and vomit (grim!)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Word Count- 5.1k ish

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 25

Fliss woke in the middle of the night to Thor gently scratching at the bedroom door, little whines seeping from his mouth. She sat still, her ears craning for what had gotten him so agitated and then she heard soft crying from across the hall. She knew from the fact it wasn’t coming over the baby monitor it wasn’t Alex, which left one other person.

“Frank...” she nudged him with her elbow gently in his ribs, where he lay in his preferred sleeping position, on his stomach, arms folded under his pillow. “Babe, Mary’s crying.”

He grumbled something before his nose screwed up and he gave a sleepy questioning hum as Fliss flicked on the lamp and rose from the bed, locating her sleep wear which had been discarded the night before as they’d gotten a little frisky. He groaned again, blinking against the light before his sleepy brain suddenly registered what was going on and he sat up, frowning.

The door to their room opened as Fliss headed across the landing and Frank jumped out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats that were discarded over the back of the chair by the vanity and followed. As soon as Fliss opened the door to Mary’s room the smell of vomit hit his nostrils and he sighed, instantly realising what was going on.

“Hey, hey...” Fliss stood on the bottom rung of the steps which led up to Mary’s bed, reaching over to brush her hair which was spattered with puke off her face. “Sweetheart, it’s ok.”

“I couldn’t get to the bathroom in time...” Mary sobbed. “I just woke up and...”

“Stack, calm down.” Frank soothed as he moved behind Fliss. “Does your tummy hurt?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and then without warning she pushed Fliss away, retched, and spewed up once more all over her bedspread, her sobbing growing louder. Frank grimaced, and in front of him Fliss gave a little, sudden half retch of her own- he knew she hated dealing with puke but it was testament to her mom instincts as she swallowed and reached out, rubbing Mary’s back.

“Okay, honey. Let’s get you cleaned up. Can you stand in the shower or do you want me to run you a bath?”

“Bath.” Mary stammered, retching again and Fliss nodded, turning to Frank. “I’ll go sort it, can you help her down?”

“Sure.” Frank nodded as Fliss dodged round him, heading to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry.” Mary whispered.

“What for?” Frank frowned.

“For barfing in my bed.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Frank soothed her. “Have I ever been mad at you for being sick?”

“Only when I ate all those marshmallows.”

“That was different, I told you to stop stuffing them into your mouth and you didn’t.” Frank chuckled, the back of his hand pressing to Mary’s forehead. She felt clammy, her cheeks tinged with pink. “You can’t help it if you’re ill, sweetheart.”

“But the bedcover is new.”

“Mary, it doesn’t matter.” He repeated. “It’ll wash. I’m more worried about you. Now come on, let’s get you in the bath okay?”

With a little clever manoeuvring, Frank helped Mary down from her bunk and she made her way slowly into the bathroom where Fliss as busy drawing her a bath.

“Okay, you want me to stay with you or you wanna be on your own?” Fliss asked Mary as she slumped ok the close toilet seat.

“Can you stay?”

“Sure.” Fliss smiled.

“I’ll go strip the bed and toss it all in the machine.” Frank gently ran his hand over the back of Mary’s head as Fliss handed her a glass of water. “You can get in with us for the rest of the night.”

Mary drained the glass and nodded, wiping her eyes. Frank straightened up and Fliss gave him a little smile before he turned and headed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Half an hour or so later Mary was in a fresh set of pyjamas, had taken a dose of medicine and was settled in their bed. After an initial bit of another flap about her not wanting to be in the middle in case she needed to get out, Frank had assured her that if she moved he would wake and she was now settled in between him and Fliss, curled on her side and snuggled into his chest, her head tucked under his chin. His large arms cuddled her close, his left hand gently rubbing at her back as he gave Fliss a tired smile as she flicked off the light and settled down beside them having checked on Alex to make sure the noise hadn’t disturbed him.

“I’ll stay home with her.” He whispered as Fliss leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of Mary’s head before she moved and placed a soft one on Frank’s mouth. “It’s easier for me to rearrange stuff than you, I can work here.”

“I can rearrange some stuff if needs be but, well, she’s always a daddy’s girl when she’s sick.” Fliss yawned.

Frank chuckled a little as he too gave a soft yawn. “Yeah, and I’d be lying if I said I ever wanted that to change.”

****

Mary was off colour for just over two days. Just as Fliss had stated, she’d been clingy to Frank, laying on the sofa by his side or on his knee, her head resting on his lap whilst she slept. Thankfully, by the time the third day rolled around she was back almost to her usual self although Frank insisted she stay home from summer camp for the rest of the week. The bad news was, however, the bug was seemed to have caught him now. He felt funny on the Monday morning and as he drove into work he had to pull his truck over so he could puke out of the door. With a groan he grabbed the bottle of water out of the holder and with a shaky hand drained half in one go before he pulled a u-turn and headed home. Fliss saw his truck arrive back onto their driveway and came into the house to find him rushing into the bathroom, throwing up violently into the toilet. With a sigh she gently rubbed his back and sent him to bed, fetching him some water and kissing his head, telling him to rest up. “Where’s dad?” Mary asked as she walked into her kitchen later that evening, having been picked up by Bill following a call from Fliss earlier that afternoon. “In bed, he’s caught your bug.” Fliss sighed. “Poor bugger.” Bill grimaced. “Yeah, he’s not well.” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “Just a case of it working through his system.” She smiled at Alex as she took him from her dad. “They behaved?” “Good as gold.” Bill smiled as Alex gave his momma a huge grin as she kissed his cheek. “Do you want us to pick them up again tomorrow evening?” “Would you?” Fliss sighed. “Frank won’t be up to it and I’ve got lessons until six.” “Sure, Mary can stay if she likes. We’ve got the twins so...” “Oh please Mom, can I?” Mary grinned and Fliss shrugged. “Sure, if you want.” “Yesss.” Mary gave Bill a hi-five before she excused herself and headed into her den. Bill had a cup of tea before he headed back home and Fliss got Alex ready for bed. Just as she was carrying him out of the nursery for his night bottle, Frank emerged from their bedroom. He was pale, and looked absolutely drained. “Hey, how you feeling?” Fliss gave him a sympathetic smile and he shook his head, giving a little sigh. “Like I’ve been hit by a bus.” He grumbled as Alex gave a noise of excitement at seeing his dad. “Hey, buddy.” Frank gave him a smile and waggled his fingers, chuckling a little as the baby mimicked his actions. “Frankie, go back to bed.” Fliss coaxed and he sighed. “I can’t sleep, been awake for the last hour.” “You been sick again?” “Not yet. Although my stomach is killing me.” “Can you face anything to eat?” Frank shook his head. “Just need to get some water.” “I’ll get it, just go lie down and watch some TV or something.” “Is Mary okay?” He completely ignored her instructions and Fliss shot him a look. “Stop ignoring me. She’s fine. I’ll send her up to say hi, now go. Go on.” “Yes, Mom.” Frank grumbled before he turned and headed back into their room. As Fliss headed down the stairs she heard the vague sounds of him retching into the toilet in the en-suite. ***** The next morning, Fliss found herself with a sick fiancée and a sick eleven month old as Alex promptly woke her up at five am screaming, and proceeded to projectile vomit all over her as she lifted him out of his vomit spattered crib. With a sigh, she soothed him gently before she carried him into the main bathroom so as not to disturb Frank and stripped them both off, stepping into the shower with him in her arms to clean them both off. Being an expert at doing things one handed now thanks to usually having him on her hip, she managed to wash her hair and his before she stepped out, wrapped him in a little towel. She shrugged on her robe and carried him out of the room, dressing him in a clean romper before she wandered downstairs to make herself some breakfast. As soon as it was an acceptable hour, she called Joanne to have her cancel her lessons for the day before she then called her mum who assured her that her or Bill would collect Mary and drop her at summer camp so she didn’t have to. It was a little after ten when Frank headed downstairs to find Fliss gently rocking Alex to and fro as he griped in her arms, his little hands curled round the material of her t-shirt, his cheeks red as he rest one against her shoulder. “Oh he’s not got it as well?” Frank sighed and Fliss nodded. “Yup, I got a wonderful five am wake up call.” “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” She looked at him, giving him a soft smile. “How you feeling today?” “A little better, not great but...” Frank shrugged as he ran a hand over Alex’s head. “Is he really bad?” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “He’s not been sick for an hour or so now but his diapers are grim.” She pulled a face. “I’m just worried about him not eating or drinking and getting dehydrated.” “Just offer him something plain to eat.” Frank looked at her, rubbing her arm. “Maybe some rye crackers or those little animal ones he likes and some diluted apple juice. If he’s like Mary then this will pass in a couple of days, don’t worry about it, it’s not like he’s a tiny baby now.” “Hmmm. Maybe I should ask Mum what I should do, I mean she’s done this before and...” At that Frank paused, his hand dropping to his side as he felt his temper flare. “Yeah, because it’s not like I have or anything is it, Fliss?” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he was tired, wasn’t feeling too great himself and her lack of faith in him had riled him to the point he’d blurted it out without thinking. And he immediately knew he’d pushed the wrong button when she stilled and turned to him, her eyes blazing. “You’re such a dick!” “I’m a dick?” He snapped back. “Jesus, you constantly second guess everything I suggest. I’ve done this before and Mary turned out just fine.” “I don’t second guess everything.” “You know what, just do what you want. I can’t have this argument now, I feel like crap. Maybe you should check with your mom what I should eat as well while you’re at it.” “Fuck off, Frank.” Fliss spat at him as she adjusted Alex in her arms and stormed out of the room, her feet heavy on the stairs as she made her way up them, Alex’s little cries growing quieter as she went before they died out completely as she shut the door to his nursery. With a groan Frank grabbed a bottle of water and followed her up the stairs where he headed back into the bedroom, climbed into bed and pulled the covers over his head. **** Thor alerted Fliss to someone’s presence and her head turned to see her mum enter through the back door holding a canvas shopping bag.

“Mum?”

“Hey love, you sounded a little stressed on the phone so I thought I’d swing by.” She smiled. “How is he?”

“Who, Alex or the asshole upstairs?” Fliss rolled her eyes and Verity arched her brow.

“You two had an argument? I thought Frank was ill?”

“He is. Suffering from asshole-itis.”

“Okay.” Verity sighed as she placed the bag on the counter in the kitchen. “Well, I made you a lasagne and some chicken soup for when Frank feels like eating. Probably better on his stomach than a heap of meat and cheese.”

“Thanks.” Fliss gave her mum a smile as she stood up and headed over to the kitchen area of the large family room, checking on Alex who was sleeping in the pack and play in the corner of the room.

“Did he eat his crackers?”

“A few.” Fliss shrugged. “But he drank most of his apple juice and keeping him hydrated is the most important thing, right?”

"He’s not a new-born now, Fliss.” Verity smiled. “And this isn’t the first time he’s been off colour.”

“No, but it’s the first time he’s been puking up every hour or so.”

“Yes, but as long as he keeps drinking then there’s no need to worry about it.” Verity looked at her. “If he’s still bad in another twenty-four hours and you’re worried, call the doctor. But Frank was right with what he said. Diluted apple juice will make sure he gets water and a bit of sugar, and if he munches on a few crackers then at least he’s eating something. You could always offer him a piece of banana too. Full of vitamins and the potassium will be good for him, too.” At that Fliss pulled a face and Verity chuckled. “You’ve never liked bananas.”

“Frank and Mary love them as well as him, but the texture makes me want to hurl.”

“You eat avocado.” Verity rolled her eyes and Fliss shrugged as she filled a kettle. There was a moment’s silence as Fliss placed the kettle on to boil and her mum reached for two mugs. “So, you going to tell me why Frank’s an asshole?”

“Oh, just before.” Fliss shrugged, tossing teabags into the teapot. “He accused me of second guessing him when I said I wanted to call you about Alex.”

“Right.” Verity nodded, leaning back against the counter. “And you weren’t?”

“No, of course not.” Fliss looked at her mum and Verity shrugged.

“Okay,” she held her hands up, “but, try and see it from his point of view, sweetheart. He is his dad…”

“I know that…”

“…and he’s done this before. In fact he’s done this before the same amount of times I have.”

At that Fliss paused and took a deep breath as her mum continued.

“You and Steve are both my children, but don’t forget, I didn’t meet Steve until he was five. So my sum total experience of babies was from looking after you, which makes Frank as equally qualified as me, certainly from the six month mark anyway.”

Fliss hesitated, in all honesty she hadn’t thought about it that way. She let out a sigh as her eyes filled with tears and her mum gave her a small smile and gently touched her arm. “Hey, don’t get upset, come here…”

Fliss willingly stepped into her mums arms for a hug, sniffing a little as Verity gently stroked the back of her head. “Being a parent is stressful, and being a first time one is the scariest thing in the world, but I wish I’d had the support from someone like you get from Frank.”

“I know, and he’s great, he’s more than great he’s fantastic, sometimes I just,” Fliss sniffed and shrugged lamely as she pulled back a little, “you’re my mum, that’s all.”

“Yeah I was last time I checked.” Verity smiled and Fliss let out a soft chuckle as she stepped back. “But Frank is your fiancée, and Alex’s dad. I can understand why he got a little frustrated.”

“He’s never snapped at me before when I’ve called you for advice.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not feeling great is he?” Verity reasoned. “He’s most likely tired and a bit cranky and you just got the brunt, unfortunately. Isn’t that the way it works? You’re a snappy bitch with him often enough.”

“I know.” Fliss turned to the kettle. “Least he doesn’t beat me black and blue for it, huh?”

“Don’t.” Verity said sternly and Fliss poured the hot water into the tea pot.

“True though.” She sighed, before she shook her head. “Anyway, enough. What are you doing with the kids tonight?”

“Your Dad's pumping the inflatables up for the pool.” Verity took her tea with a thanks. “Then we’ve stocked up on sausages, burgers and enough soda and sweets to keep them wired for a week.”

“Standard night and Nanna and Granddad’s then.” Fliss smiled and Verity chuckled as the two of them made their way outside to sit in the garden.

“The twins are staying until the weekend.” Verity smiled. “Steve’s taking Sian off for a last little break before your wedding and the baby arrives. If you want to gather some more stuff for Mary, she can stay longer. We were going to take them to the waterpark on Thursday.”

“She’d love that. I’ll check with Frank as we’ve paid for summer camp, but I don’t think he’ll have an issue.”

“Issue with what?”

Both women looked up to see Frank stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes slightly. At the sight of him looking so tired and sick, Fliss felt all her earlier anger ebbing away and she took a deep breath.

“Oh, Mum was just saying, the twins are staying with her and dad until Friday, she suggested Mary might like to as well.”

“You don’t need to check with me.” Frank shook his head, his voice soft. “You’re her mom. If she wants to then, whatever.” Frank shrugged. “Not like we’re going to be doing anything at the moment, is it?”

“How are you feeling?” Verity looked at Frank and he gave a shrug.

“Crap.” He snorted, “How’s Bean?”

“He ate a few crackers and had some apple juice, he just seems tired.” Fliss shrugged.

To his credit, Frank didn’t mention the fact that she’d done exactly what he advised. Instead he nodded. “Good.”

“Do you want anything to eat?” Fliss offered. “Mum brought some chicken soup.”

“No, no offence V but my stomach isn’t quite ready for that.” He grimaced as Verity waved his apology off. “I just came for some air and to grab a drink.”

“Do you want me to make you a honey and ginger tea?” Fliss looked at him. “Might help.”

Frank gave her a soft smile, “sure, thanks.”

She stood up and passed him in the doorway, her hand softly brushing over his arm as she went. Once she’d gone, Frank stepped outside, taking in a breath as he let the sun warm his face. “You sure you don’t mind Mary staying for a few days?”

“Of course not.” Verity shook her head. “I was just saying to Fliss, we’re thinking of taking them all to the water park on Thursday.”

“She’ll love that.” Frank smiled, taking a deep breath as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“As long as it’s not an issue, Fliss said you’d already paid for camp.”

Frank shook his head. “It’s not expensive, plus you have to pay for the full summer up front, regardless. Just easier to make sure she has a place. As long as we tell them she won’t be there for the rest of the week it doesn’t matter.” He took a seat in one of the outside comfy chairs, and ran his hands over his face. “God, this is disgusting.”

Verity chuckled. “Yeah, it seems a pretty nasty bug. Make sure you rest up.”

“I’m bored of lying in bed.” He groaned.

“You’re just like Bill.” Verity looked at him, sternly. “Don’t be a stubborn bastard and rush around until you’re ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a salute and she narrowed her eyes playfully.

“And whilst we’re at it, I’ve spoken to Fliss about her being a snappy little madam.”

“What do you mean?”

“She told me you’d had an argument before, and yes, before you say anything I can see your point but I can also see hers.” She looked at him. “I gave her a gentle reminder that my experience with babies amounts to the same as yours so I’m by no means more qualified but I’m glad she feels she can call me. It’s a support network I didn’t have, nor did you for that matter. And I bet you wish you did.”

Frank took a deep breath. “I know, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I was just, well, a little frustrated, that’s all.”

“No, I know, I get it.” Verity assured him. “And so does she. Just maybe try not to be such a cranky little shit.”

At that Frank snorted and their conversation was cut off when Fliss appeared, placing a mug on the table in front of him.

“Thanks.” He smiled as she ran her hand through his hair affectionately. Reaching up, he caught her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I’m sorry I snapped before.” He looked at her and she smiled back.

“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t trust you something.”

“I should have pointed it out to you in a better way than I did.” Frank conceded, before his eyes playfully darted to Verity before they flicked back to Fliss’. “I was a cranky little shit.”

Verity chuckled and shook her head as Fliss smiled and moved to take her seat. Frank reached over for his drink and took a small sip, leaning back in his chair, happy to be outside the confines of the bedroom for a few moments, until his stomach gave a violent lurch, reminding him exactly why he hadn’t strayed far from the bathroom.

With a groan, he jumped up, almost falling over Thor in his haste and knowing full well he wasn’t going to make it to the toilet, he turned and violently spewed into the kitchen sink.

“Well,” Fliss sighed, standing up to go and help him out, “at least he’ll be bringing up nothing but water.” She pulled a face. “Don’t fancy fishing chunks out of the plug hole.”

*****

Frank woke early the next morning, having slept so much over the last forty-eight hours and he was pleased to report he was feeling much better. It was still quite dark outside and he took care as he climbed out of bed not to make too much noises. He padded over to the spare room, Fliss having chosen to sleep in there along with Alex in the travel crib so as not to disturb him too much, and was happy to see the pair of them fast asleep when he poked his head through the door. Thor eyed him a little before he stood up, stretching and wandered over, yawning.

“Wanna go out, pal?” Frank reached out and scratched the large dog behind his ear as his tail wagged lazily, his mouth opening in a wide yawn. “Okay, come on.”

It was an hour or so later he heard Fliss shout down the stairs. It was a frantic, broken yell of his name and in a flash he sprinted up onto the landing in time to see her bursting into the bathroom where she emptied her stomach into the toilet.

“Oh, baby.” He sighed, walking towards her but she waved him away.

“Alex,” she spluttered, before she turned and puked again and Frank instantly understood. Heading into the spare room, he picked up the baby who had himself thrown up, but was surprisingly cheerful all things considered. There were no tears, no fuss, just a huge grin for his daddy as he sat peering up at him.

“Not quite sure what you find so amusing.” Frank arched his eyebrow and swept the baby up, turning him so that the front of his vomit spattered romper was facing outwards, one large arm supporting his butt. He made his way back onto the landing to see Fliss now emerging, her face flushed and her eyes heavy.

“Go back to bed.” Frank nodded to their room, before he dropped a kiss to her forehead. “I got this.”

Without so much as a word of protest she headed into their bedroom, Thor following, and she closed the door behind her. Twenty minutes later, Alex was cleaned up and sat in his high chair next to Frank who was perched on a stool at the island, both of them munching on a banana. Alex’s appetite was back with gusto, but Frank was wary of overloading the tot’s stomach (and his own for that matter) so soon following their illness, so he had cut Alex’s banana into smaller pieces than normal in an attempt it would fool him into thinking he had eaten more. No such luck. As he finished the last piece he examined his now empty bowl and then looked at Frank, making a questioning noise.

“No more buddy, not yet.” Frank shook his head, chuckling as Alex reached for the one Frank had in his hand. “This is mine.” At that, Alex frowned and let out a loud noise of protest. Frank merely looked back at him again. “Complain all you want, it won’t get you anywhere.”

Once their breakfast was done, he carried him over to the play mat, watching him carefully as he entertained himself, crawling across the rug to get to some of his brightly coloured blocks. Frank played with him for a little while before he called both work and Joanne explaining the situation and that neither he nor Fliss would be in work that day. Once that was sorted, he then decided to take Alex out for some air into the garden, selecting a spot in the shade by the pool. By the time lunch time rolled around, neither of them had thrown up again, but there was no sign of Fliss. Frank set Alex down for a nap in his room, and headed over to check on her. She peered up at him from where she was led in bed, something playing on the TV and she gave him a weak smile.

“Hey.” He dropped onto the bed by her side, his hand running through her hair. “You need anything?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Is Bean okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s had a banana and some crackers for breakfast and a little more for lunch. So far so good, it hasn’t come back up.”

“Course I would have to get it too.” She grumbled and Frank chuckled, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Well, were you really expecting anything else?” He smiled and she rolled her eyes.

“No, suppose not.” She shifted and stretched, grimacing a little. “Fuck, my back is starting to go funny.”

“Lying down too much?” He asked gently, knowing she struggled with that sometimes if she was on it for too long, a consequence of her accident all those years ago.

“Yeah, that and I think I pulled it puking.”

“Well, how about I draw you a bath and then you can come downstairs and rest on the couch?” He offered, his hand cupping her cheek. “I got plenty of cuddles and sympathy in me, especially now I know I’ve had it and therefore immune.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

It was little under half an hour later when Fliss made her way downstairs, dressed in a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy pony tail. Frank gave her a small smile and lifted his arm as she sat down next to him. He pressed a kiss to her temple as she cuddled up to him.

“You need anything?” Frank asked her softly and she shook her head, adjusting herself so she was comfy, snuggling into him a little further. Only it didn’t last long. Approximately five minutes later she gave a little whimper and shot up from the couch, running for the bathroom. Frank let out a sigh as he stood up and followed her, his large hand rubbing at her back as he knelt beside her whilst she puked into the downstairs toilet.

“Fuck this shit.” She groaned as she sat back, her face flushed, cheeks streaked with tears. “I don’t wanna be ill. I hate you.”

“Me?” Frank chuckled.

“Yes, you. You gave this to me.”

“Well, actually, I think I gave it to Alex. Who likely gave it to you.”

“Exactly, you infected him and he infected me.”

“If we’re playing the blame game, then Mary is totally ‘Patient Zero’.”

Fliss looked at him, swallowing, before she moved him out of the way and retched again, only this time nothing much came up on account of her stomach being empty.

“I need water.” She mumbled.

“Okay, you want me to fetch you some here or are you done?”

“I’m done, for the time being. I think.” She sighed and Frank stood, pulling her to her feet. He waited whilst she splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth out before he gently scooped his arm round her as she slowly walked into the hallway, stumbling a little as she went. Not wanting her to fall and add a concussion to the mix, Frank easily swept her up into his arms, bridal style and she groaned.

“I’m not dying.”

“Well, you looked you were going to fall so, suck it up, Buttercup.” He shrugged, depositing her back on the couch before he made his way to the fridge. He came back with a bottle of water and unscrewed the lid before passing it to her. She took a large gulp, her face pale before she gave an exhausted sigh, the back of her forearm wiping at her forehead.

“Is it warm in here?” She frowned and Frank shook his head.

“The Air-Con is at normal temp. You’re running a slight fever, same as us.”

“Fantastic.” Fliss groaned, flopping down and stretching out beside him, laying her head in his lap.

“Well in my eyes you’ve always been hot.” Frank joked lamely, as his fingers gently ran down her neck and back, the same way she’d comforted him the previous day. She shook her head, scoffing at his lame joke.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Calling it how I see it, Lissy.” He chuckled, his hand gently brushing down the side of her face. “Try and get some rest, Sweetheart. You’ll feel better when you’ve slept, I promise.”

They sat in silence, eyes trained on the TV and when Alex woke a short while later, Frank glanced down to see Fliss had fallen asleep. Reaching for a pillow he gently moved her head, propping it up on the cushion, a soft sigh escaping him. She’d spent pretty much the entire last week taking care of them, it was certainly time to repay the favour.

“You gonna be quiet so you don’t disturb Momma?” He spoke in a hushed voice to Alex once he’d changed his diaper and carried him back downstairs. Alex made a little noise in response, a garble of sounds that sounded a little like 'Mama' when Frank thought about it. He had no doubt in his mind that the baby would be speaking sooner rather than later.

“Yeah, Mama.” Frank nodded as he opened the door to the family room. Fliss was still fast asleep and thankfully, Alex seemed content once he’d seen her to be distracted by Fred, who sauntered over towards him as he sat on the rug, his tail swishing in Alex’s face making him laugh as he went to grab it. Fred scooted off and Frank spoke, his voice low.

“Alex, no. We don’t pull tails.”

Alex looked at him before he gave a giggle and spun quickly onto all fours and shot after the animal as fast as he could crawl. With a roll of his eyes, Frank headed after him and grabbed the back of his t-shirt, lifting him up. Alex’s cackles rang around the room and despite himself, Frank chuckled as well as he spun the baby to face him, holding him at arm’s length.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” He arched his eyebrow as he brought him back down to press a kiss to his cheek, before he extended his arms again, once more bringing him back towards him, more giggles bursting from Alex’s mouth as he continued to repeat the playful motion. “Cute, but a total menace.”

When Frank held Alex above him for a fourth time, it wasn’t a giggle that burst from the tot’s mouth. It was a steady stream of banana and rye barf which hit Frank straight in the face.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” Frank grimaced, wiping his face on his shoulder, before he turned to look at Alex who grinned at him. “Thanks a lot, pal.”

**** Chapter 27

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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wonglix · 4 years ago

Text

➺ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

⤷ y/n x jeno (+ best friend!renjun)

⤷ you and jeno have been endlessly flirting with each other for months now, neither of you taking the next step of officially asking the other out - and it’s driving everyone around you insane. imagine renjun’s frustration when he gets stuck in a broken elevator with you two lovebirds for hours on end.

⤷ fluff

⤷ 2.0k words

⤷ warning: cursing

"y/n, you're here to visit me, your best friend, not that little loverboy of yours," renjun groaned after you asked him if jeno was around somewhere as well. a small chuckle blew past your lips, and you lightly smack renjun's arm, the boy looking at you with an unamused expression. "he's not my lover boy, injun." he looks at you with raised brows, "but you wish he were, and that's the point you thirsty little shit." you gasp, both of you bursting out in laughter. renjun wasn't wrong, quite the opposite actually: it's clear to most people at first glance that you and jeno are very much interested in each other. no one knows why you two don't just finally start dating; the constant shy glances and flirty conversations getting on everyone's nerves.

"are you two ever going to get together or am i damned to listen to your stupid flirting for eternity?" renjun mumbles out between bites of watermelon, the teasing smirk on his lips aggravating you only the slightest bit. you let out a hum while thinking about it, the question making you think for a bit. shrugging you look at renjun, "honestly? i don't know. i guess we both enjoy the chase. what if it gets weird between us once we start dating you know?" renjun nods and seems to seriously think about what you said, a small sigh leaving him, "you've known renjun for as long as i have, i'm pretty sure you two would fit together quite well," he chomps down on another piece of melon, giving you some time to think about his words. "also, i'm pretty sure the two of you wouldn't turn down other people if it really was about the chase."

you furrow your brows in confusion and renjun takes it as his cue to elaborate, "there were a few people that asked jeno out, and he turned down all of them. well, and you turned down those two guys from your history class too, didn't you? i'm pretty sure if the two of you only enjoyed a good chase, you wouldn't turn down people to mingle with. you two genuinely like each other, i'm sure of that. and as much as the two of you flirting annoys me, i just want you to be happy," renjun finishes, leaning over to steal a few pieces of melon from you. it's like renjun opened your eyes for you, the realisation that you're genuinely, completely, absolutely infatuated with lee jeno making your ears burn up.

renjun chuckles at the redness of your ears and the look of realisation on your face, "now you only need your loverboy to realise the same thing." you blink at him, and suddenly you feel helpless; it has been so easy to enjoy your back and forth with jeno, the flirty remarks and teasing touches always were easy to reciprocate, but now? now that you were aware of the weight of your feelings for him you felt like you've wasted so much time just idling about, so much time you maybe could've already spent in his arms.

renjun had stolen the rest of your fruits at this point, but you couldn't find it in you to care - your fingers were itching with excitement at the prospect of seeing jeno, the thought of spending any more time apart from him making your head spin. luckily for you, you agreed to a movie night with the rest of the dreamies. while you were on your way to the elevator to head to the dorms, you were trying to come up with a smooth way to open up about your feelings to jeno. renjun was rambling on about something you didn't really pay attention to, thoughts of jeno clouding your mind.

it's like fate decided to play cupid for the day because right there in the elevator was standing jeno, the surprised smile on his face quickly turning into a flirtatious one once he spotted you. "well hello there, precious. going up or down?" renjun let's out a whine, pushing past you to get into the elevator. "listen, i don't care what you two do once we're at the dorms, but please, please spare me until then. i don't think i'll survive that disgusting flirtatious bullshit." jeno snorts at that, throwing his arm around renjun's shoulder while you're getting in the elevator, pressing the button to get all of you to the ground floor.

"would you rather i flirt with you, jun?" jeno's voice was disgustingly sweet, and renjun shoved him away from himself, both you and jeno bursting out in small giggles. renjun grumbles annoyed and presses the button, the doors of the elevator closing smoothly. the elevator barely started moving when it stopped abruptly, the lights flickering above you. the three of you stayed silent for a second; waiting for the elevator to start moving again. it didn't.

"uhm..." jeno started, not really knowing what to say. turning to renjun you let out a shaky breath, "what do we do now?" renjun shrugged before experimentally pressing the emergency button, a loud sound ringing through the small lift. it took a few seconds until a voice spoke up, inquiring about the emergency. "yeah, uhm, we're stuck in the elevator." the lady on the other end hummed, faint typing being heard in the background. "alright, there's good news, and there's bad news. the good news is, don't worry, you're safe. don't panic and just sit it out until emergency services arrive," her voice was calm and comforting, though what she said next did anything but comfort you, "the bad news is that it's probably going to take a few hours until you're going to get out of there." it was silent for a second, jeno suddenly piping up, "a few hours? isn't there a janitor or something that can let us out?" the lady sighed, "no, i'm sorry. it's a bit more complicated than that. there's nothing we can do, so i suggest you get comfortable in the meantime. i'll make sure to contact the company that there are three people stuck in the elevator."

here you were, sitting on the elevator floor next to renjun, jeno sitting across from you. you had been talking about whatever came to mind for the past hour, the three of you slowly running out of topics to discuss. "i can't believe we're stuck," you whined for the approximately sixth time, head buried in your hands. "well, at least i'm here. it'd probably be even better without jun, like some prolonged game of seven minutes in heaven." jeno snorted at his own remark, renjun only grumbling out a small "more like hell."

after endless rounds of rock-paper-scissors and somewhat passionate discussions about whether water is indeed wet or not (which it isn't), the three of you reached a point of silence. it wasn't uncomfortable, but you wouldn't call it comfortable either - you were kind of just sitting there, and you were slowly starting to drift off. your head fell onto renjun's shoulder, renjun shifting a bit to make it a bit more comfortable to you, the boy already had gotten used to it over all this time as your best friend.

judging by the deep frow on jeno's face, he didn't seem to know that things like that were quite common for you and renjun. you were long gone at that point, sleep tugging on your conscience and dragging you into a deep slumber while renjun had to hold back from snickering at jeno's unhappy expression.

jeno was nearly burning holes through renjun at this point, "are you really jealous even though you two aren't even dating?" renjun had a teasing grin etched onto his face, jeno not being able to answer in more than a few stammers for a second. "w-what?" renjun snorted at the reaction, rolling his eyes at his friend.

"cmon, id be dead if looks could kill jeno. it's clear you two like each other so please just get it over with, i can't deal with two lovesick idiots at once." jeno was about to protest renjun's teasing until the words registered in his mind. "wait, two lovesick idiots?"

renjun can't help but let out an annoyed groan, "oh please! you can't tell me you're that dense, the two of you are so in love with each other its actually disgusting," you let out a whine when renjun gestures with his arms wildly, the movement momentarily ripping you out of your slumber.

jeno's silent for a bit, his gaze focused on you and your sleeping face; if there's anyone that should know how you're feeling, it should be renjun, right? jeno gulps, his gaze drifting back to renjun, "and...and how should i go about it? just, i don't know, ask them out or-" "YES!" renjun couldn't take it anymore; no one was leaving this elevator until the two of you finally sorted your feelings for each other out.

you're startled awake by renjun's outburst, tired eyes looking around in confusion. your eyes meet jeno's, and he feels his heartbeat ring in his ears, cheeks heating up and without much thought, without any plan on how exactly to go about it, jeno suddenly blurts out: "i like you, y/n."

confusion and sleep were still clouding your mind, so your first reaction was to stutter a bit, a frown on your face. "y-you- you what?" renjun sat next to you awkwardly, his eyes drifting back and forth between you and his friend. jeno cleared his throat, his nerves making his throat dry up, "i-i like you, and-...uhm, and i'm pretty sure you like me too."

you blink at him, a soft blush spreading on your cheeks; the sudden confession catching you off guard. you're stunned into silence, your brain still not working on its full capacity. "come on, answer him. don't make him wait, that's just cruel," renjun chimes suddenly in like some sort of referee, making you blush even more.

"uhm, y-yeah. i do, i like you too, jeno." you spluttered out, renjun mumbling a small "finally" you decided to ignore. jeno suddenly breaks out in the brightest smile you've ever seen and leans forward, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you over to his side. "now you can sleep on me, where you belong."

"guys please, i got you together so please stop with the disgusting flirt talk or whatever this is supposed to be. please, until we're out of here, i beg you," renjun whined at the two of you, jeno grinning triumphantly as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer.

"jun, come on. did you expect us to stop once we're dating?" "we're dating?" your teasing made the cocky look on jeno's face drop, big eyes looking back at you in confusion. "uhm, yeah? i thought you know since we both-"

jeno was just too cute for his own good at that moment, so you lean forward and interrupt his defensive rambling with a soft kiss to his lips. it shuts him up and makes renjun let out a disgusted groan, small giggles escaping you. "i was joking, jeno."

the boy lets out a sigh of relief at that, elbowing you lightly, "don't play with my feelings like that!" giggling you nuzzle further into his side, "never, jeno."

it took another two hours until you were finally rescued, renjun letting out a giant sigh of relief after finally being able to leave the two of you alone. it's understandable; the poor boy had to listen to you and jeno's new-couple-talk for the last hours, the sweet compliments and cute giggles making him want to throw up. instead of joining the others for the planned movie night, you and jeno decided - to renjun's delight - to retreat into his room to spend some time together and finally take each other up on the flirtatious comments you've thrown at each other for the past months.

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scuttling · 3 years ago

Text

While You Were Sleeping (Okay, in a Coma)

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Derek Morgan & Latina Original Female Character Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid Word Count: 2,058 Chapters: 1 of ? WIP Tags: SFW so far, Sophie is not in the BAU, While You Were Sleeping (film) AU, Coffee shop, Unrequited love, Canon-typical violence, Slow burn

Summary: What happens when Derek Morgan, the man Sophie Cortes is secretly in love with, goes into a coma, and everyone around them mistakes her for his girlfriend? As if things weren't complicated enough, his boss is sweet, kind, incredibly handsome, and makes sure she's taken care of while Derek is in the hospital. Plus, she thinks one of Derek's coworkers is more secretly in love with him than she is. Feelings shift, but how does Sophie explain to the world that she fell for Aaron while Derek was sleeping, without hurting everyone she's come to care about?

Read on AO3 or read more below! The morning that changes Sophie Cortes’s life forever begins much like any other: she wakes up at 3 AM to her blaring alarm, slides out of bed with a groan, tugs off the oversized t-shirt she slept in and pulls on a sports bra and leggings to go for a run. She knows this makes her sound like a lunatic, but with her schedule, if she doesn’t exercise before the crack of dawn, it just doesn’t happen.

After her run, she goes home to shower and change, grabs her bag and drives to The Busy Bean, the coffee shop she co-owns with her best friend Jocelyn. Jocelyn is the brains of the operation, the one with all the great marketing ideas, the one who handles the finances and vendors and supply issues and makes sure everything is Fair Trade or else—Sophie bakes cookies and makes macchiatos, but everyone’s got their strong suits.

She loves the coffee shop more than anything, its bright brick walls and dark wood floors, the smell of fresh beans and sugar, the bustle of regular customers they get from being so near Quantico; most of them are serious suit types, always in a hurry, but some of them are sweet, take their time to say good morning, like Sophie’s favorite customer, Derek.

She knows Derek is a fed of some sort, even though he’s not usually in a suit. He has that air about him, like he’s powerful and capable, like he’s seen things, but he never fails to flash her a megawatt smile, to lean against the counter while she makes his mocha and ask her how her morning is going. She’s a little bit in love with him.

Jocelyn knows this, and always makes sure Sophie is the one to wait on him; when she calls Sophie out from the kitchen specifically because Derek’s there, she knows he knows, and she flushes, but he says she makes his drink better than anyone, always asks her for a cookie recommendation on Fridays so he can take a box to the office, so she thinks it might not be completely one sided. Maybe. Or he’s just a really, really sweet guy.

On the morning that changes her life forever, he’s still very sweet, but she also sees a side of him she’s never seen before.

Someone tries to rob them. The man walks right up to the counter, no mask, no nothing, and tells her to put all of the money from the register into a cookie box or he’ll pull out the gun he’s got in his pocket and blow her face off. Her first instinct is to be pissed about this, which she knows is really stupid. She takes a step back, looks at the guy like he’s an idiot, crosses her arms.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how hard we work for this money? We don’t sit around… playing video games in our mom’s basement, like you do, by the looks of it.” The guy is obviously not happy about this, slams his hands down on the counter, and Derek, who is two spots behind him, leans slightly out of line to get her attention.

“Sophie, is this guy bothering you?” Before she can answer, the guy turns to look at Derek; he takes one glance at his hot, strong physique, and then his gun and his badge thing, and books it out of the shop. Derek tears off after him, and Sophie can see this ending very badly, so she grabs Jocelyn, asks her to cover the register and tells her she’ll be right back.

She jogs outside, expecting to see Derek manhandling the dumbass robber, or at least still chasing after him; she does not expect to see Derek laying on the ground, bleeding out, a bullet wound in his stomach.

“Oh my god, Derek!” She skids to a halt next to him, pulls off her apron—it’s mostly clean, she thinks—and lifts up his shirt, presses it to the wound to stop the bleeding. “Are you okay? That’s dumb, you’re not okay, but can you hear me? Are you going to die?” He chuckles, and that makes her feel a little better, but then he coughs up blood, and that makes her feel much, much worse.

She pulls her phone out of her back pocket, calls 911, and just stays with him, talks to him about nothing and everything, until the police and paramedics arrive. At that point, he has passed out, looks drained and weak, so unlike the Derek she has come to know… and love. Fuck. If he dies because of something that happened at her shop…

“Excuse me, miss, but we need to get him on the stretcher,” an EMT says, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. She backs off, knows he needs to be attended to, but she can’t leave him, she just can’t.

“Can I ride to the hospital with him? Please,” she asks the other tech, and she glances at her partner, who nods. Sophie sighs a breath of relief, sends a text to Jocelyn explaining what happened and that she’ll need to be out of the shop for the foreseeable future.

She notices that Derek’s phone has fallen off of his belt, and she picks it up, since the paramedics don’t seem interested. She absently decides to look through his recent contacts, to see if there’s someone she should inform of the accident: the last number he dialed belongs to someone named Hotch, and she vaguely remembers him mentioning the name before. It might be his boss, or something? He dials the number frequently, anyway, so she figures it’s worth a shot.

“Hotchner,” the man answers after two rings, and Sophie sighs, glad she got through to someone. Even if he’s not the person she should be contacting, he might know how to reach them.

“Uh, hello. I’m pretty sure you’re Derek’s boss, but even if you aren’t, you’re the last person he called, so… There’s been an accident. Derek’s been shot. We’re headed to the GWU Medical Center; I thought you would want to know.” She can hear the man moving some papers in the background, banging something around on his desk, maybe.

“We’re on the way; how bad is it? Is he conscious? What happened?” The paramedics signal for her to hop into the back of the ambulance, so she does, and she takes Derek’s limp hand. Her eyes well up with tears, and it feels real, now, that she has to relive it.

“There was someone trying to rob the coffee shop, and—and Derek went after him; he had a gun, and I guess he shot him. I mean, he obviously shot him. In the stomach. He’s not conscious; I don’t know how bad it is, but he was coughing up blood. Oh, god,” she breathes, voice shaky, and the man on the phone makes a soft sound of reassurance.

“It’s alright. He’s a very strong person, I promise you. He’ll be okay. You said you were headed to GWU Medical Center; are you with him now?”

“Yes. The paramedics let me ride with him. I can text you an update when we get there, his room number if he has one.” She can hear him talking to someone else in the background, but it only takes him a moment to answer.

“Please do. We’ll be there as quickly as we can. Thank you,…?” He pauses, clearly wondering who the hell she is.

“Oh, Sophie. Sophie Cortes.”

“Aaron Hotchner. Thank you. We’ll see you soon.”

The paramedics push Derek into the emergency room entrance, and Sophie follows behind, feeling anxious and out of place, and worried about his injury. They push the gurney through a set of double doors, and Sophie goes to follow, but a stern looking nurse in gold scrubs puts a hand in front of her, doesn’t even look up from her clipboard.

“You can’t go in there.” Sophie’s heart-rate jumps, and she shakes her head.

“I need to go in there, I need to make sure he’s okay. Please.”

“Are you family?” she asks, giving her a once-over; she clearly decides that Sophie is not family, and she doesn’t want to lie, anyway.

“No, I’m not family, but—”

“Like I said, you can’t go in there. Family only.” She moves her arm, waits like she dares Sophie to try, but she just sighs, sags against the wall, and the woman walks away.

“But you don’t understand,” Sophie says weakly, to herself. “I’m in love with him.” She brings up a hand to scrub at the tears forming in her eyes, and another nurse, one with blue scrubs and braids and a kind smile, rests a palm on her shoulder.

“Come with me.” Sophie looks up at her—she looks kind of like an angel, but it’s probably just the fluorescent lighting—and nods, follows.

She takes her through a staff only door, sneaks her into the OR hallway, where they can peer through a window at Derek, surrounded by doctors, surgeons, nurses. Sophie has only seen this kind of stuff on TV, so she doesn’t know how it’s going, but the nurse who brought her tells her to stay there for one second and bustles off.

It’s really scary to watch: there are bloody cloths being thrown around, and tubes and clamps and other medical devices she’s not sure the use for, but after a moment, she can see a doctor lift up a pair of surgical pliers, and there’s a bullet between the prongs. That’s a good sign, she’s pretty sure.

The nice nurse comes back, and she scares the shit out of Sophie when she puts a hand on her arm, making her jump a foot. She smiles apologetically, and Sophie returns it.

“I found out his room number, if you’d like to go sit and wait for him to be brought in. It's an ICU, so technically visiting hours haven’t started yet, but I can make an exception—for an hour, okay?” Sophie nods, wraps her hands around the nurse's wrists.

“Thank you so much. Really—I just need to know he’s okay,” she says, and the woman nods understandingly and takes her to room 104, where Derek will be placed after surgery.

She texts the number to Derek’s boss, takes a seat on the chair in the corner of the room. She gets restless quickly, stands up, uses the bathroom sink to scrub at her hands, because they’re still stained with Derek’s blood. It’s quiet, eerily so, until suddenly it isn’t.

Derek is wheeled in on a bed by a couple of nurses; he looks a little better, all wrapped up in gauze, and they hook him to machines, displaying a steady heartbeat. She breathes a sigh of relief. He’s alright. He’s not dead. That’s incredible news. She takes his hand, wills herself not to cry, murmurs that she’s so happy he’s alive.

As soon as the nurses leave, a group of people who can only be Derek’s coworkers enter the room. There is a tall, serious looking man with dark hair and a dark suit; a woman with thick fringe, a kind face; an older guy with facial hair who looks worried and weary; a skinny guy who looks about the same as Sophie feels; a petite blonde woman with the bluest eyes Sophie’s ever seen; and another blonde woman with crimped hair and glossy lips who has absolutely been crying. They look at Sophie, and she stands, drops Derek’s hand.

“Um, hi, I’m—”

“Who are you?” a doctor says suddenly from behind the group. The kind nurse who let her see Derek is behind him. The serious looking man reaches into his pocket, flashes a badge with a no-nonsense expression.

“We’re with the FBI. We’re his coworkers.” He looks over at Sophie, and she takes a deep breath. Before she can explain who she is, the kind nurse steps around the doctor, flashes Sophie a smile.

“And she’s his girlfriend.”

Uh. What the fuck?

Derek’s coworkers exchange a look that says pretty much the same thing; the tall skinny one looks like his heart has been broken.

Sophie opens her mouth to correct that extremely incorrect assumption, but she can’t find the words, and then she passes out.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner/original female character #aaron hotchner x original female character #aaron hotchner fanfic #derek morgan #derek morgan fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #latina original female character #moreid #while you were sleeping #coffee shop au #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid

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shatterflowerdemon · 3 years ago

Text

I found

Words: 1,517

Reader & UT Sans & UT Paps & Error & Ink & Gaster

Notes:

This came to me as I was cleaning. Please note that I am not very familiar with Error and Ink. I just see pretty designs and write. I haven't abandoned my other reader inserts, but the big wheel in my brain has been landing on 'oneshot' for days. I also post on mobile so I can't chop this.

"Oh fuck. Am I dead? I knew I shouldn't have had that pasta!" Everything that surrounds you is white. "Holy shit? Did I make it to heaven? Unexpected."

"Ahem."

You scream and jerk, managing to scuttle back where you rest on the...floor? It's hard to tell in all this one shade of white. Then you look up. "Oh my fucking god, I am in heaven!" you yell before slapping yourself on the mouth. A skeleton that looks a lot like Ink- from that one AU on Tumblr- looks at you like you've grown a second head.

"Right, okay, back you go," he says, bringing his paintbrush down as if to strike you.

"What the fuck?" you roll out of the way. "Uh, watch where you point that thing!" He sighs and twirls it in this direction.

"Don't make this difficult."

You decide that you would prefer to, not liking the idea of the easy route. Hitting your elbow on the floor hurt. Isn't heaven supposed to be fun and painless? You can feel your heart thumping from adrenaline, too. Regardless of whether or not you're having a fever dream, you are very alive.

Ink attempts to slather or catch you in what looks like his namesake. You scramble and dodge, but the routine is tiring you out quickly. Then, right as you're cornered (in an invisible corner, of fucking course,) a hole opens.

"Dude, you left your- Uh." Error looks between you and Ink, clearly not understanding. "Scarf..."

Ink swings his paintbrush (Broom? Roomie? You forgot) down to rest at his side. "Oh, thanks! I didn't even notice. Just lay it somewhere. Gotta fix this first." You avoid another splatter, feeling like you're on the other end of mickey in that one Wii game with the paintbrush.

"Why's it so empty?" Error asks, glancing around.

"Just did a mass wipe. Decided a fresh canvas was in order."

"Oh. Okay."

You groan, dodging another splatter. "Why the fuck am I even in the doodle sphere?!"

Ink frowns. Error whistles, low and long. "Wow, you accidentally drug a creator here?"

"Shut up." Ink shoots again but misses widely.

Error snickers. "Let me handle this, squid." You watch his hands raise and remember what Error does for a living.

"Fuck no!" You scream, flailing and losing your balance. One minute, you're standing in a white room, and the next, you're nowhere.

It feels like you're falling for eternity. Darkness swims in your vision, making your brain try to fill in the gaps by tricking you with false images. If you scream, you sure can't hear it. Numbness creeps in.

A white oval emerges. Then it stays. Its not a false image? A form takes shape as if your eyes had to adjust. Half circle eyes, two cracks, and a thin smile. The body of spilled ink.

"Gaster." He makes a series of strange noises. Wingdings? "I'm sorry, I can't understand. I- I'm in the void, aren't I?" He nods, and two ghostly hands form before your very eyes. He holds them out to you. "Do you know the way out of here?" Another nod. You take his hands. His figure appears as if it's dissolving, then when you look down, you look the same, like a ghost. The hot iron of fear strikes you. "Wai-"

Your sound is cut out. Once again, for the umpteenth time today, your mind blanks out. An uncomfortable trend.

The first thing you register is cold. It's on your back, arms, head, everywhere. The next is something wet. You groan and shift. Why can't you be left to sleep in peace? WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE. You sit up quickly, disturbing the snow that had been blanketing you before. Something white and fluffy yelps. Your vision clears. Oh! It's a dog.

"Hey there, little guy. Thanks for the wake-up call." The dog barks cutely. You pet it, encouraged by the furious wagging of its tail.

A figure emerges in the distance, but it's hard to see through the snowfall. Whoever they are, they must be tall. Maybe someone on a rescue team? That'd explain the dog. You must have been drugged or passed out somewhere. It couldn't have been a long time since you're still alive in this weather. All your limbs have circulation, and you can't smell rotting flesh.

"DOG! UGH, I KNEW THE RED LEASH WAS SUPERIOR!" An odd sentence for someone on a rescue team, but you let it slide. Any help is better than no help. "OH. A HUMAN." Well, what else would you be? A bear?

"Hello? Do you know where this is? I think I hit my head or something." That would explain the hallucination.

"OH NO! A HURT HUMAN!"

It's like your heart stops and speeds up all at once. Papyrus is tall and a little foreboding at this angle. His scarf flaps in the wind that is currently picking up. He makes quick work of helping you up. The dog stays close by, tail wagging furiously.

"THIS IS NO SORT OF WEATHER FOR A HURT HUMAN! I'LL TAKE YOU HOME AND FEED YOU. MY SPAGHETTI IS WORLD-CLASS."

There's no other option than to agree. If this is a hallucination, you won't fight it. Maybe you're lucid dreaming? Intense focus does nothing to change your situation. Not a lucid dream, then. Papyrus carries you and the dog through the storm, who happily snuggles close to you. At least Papyrus blocks the wind blowing towards the two of you. He chatters the entire way to his house. Instead of the familiar house you were expecting, he brings you to a different one. It's a large log cabin with no porch. It looks like they bought more string lights.

"REST HERE, AND I'LL MAKE YOU SOME WARM FOOD." Papyrus sets you down on a kitchen chair, swiping a quilt and tossing it over you. The dog (presumably annoying dog) settles on your lap as if he owns it. You say nothing. Papyrus returns with a plate of steaming spaghetti and water. "I MUST APOLOGIZE. THE FOOD IS REHEATED SINCE I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU. PLEASE DO NOT MAKE IT A HABIT TO NAP IN SNOW POFFS." The spaghetti is great.

"Thank you, this is great. Uhm, weird question, but where are we?"

"MY HOUSE, OF COURSE!" he replies with a warm smile.

"I think they meant geographic location, paps."

And as if Tumblr hadn't already whooped your ass, here arrives Sans Undertale. Where's a dramatic cue of Megalovania à la trumpet when you need it? Honestly, the very last skeleton you wanted to see. It's like your Sans phase is coming to haunt you. Maybe today is just 'the attack of 2010's fandom.' The switch port could not have possibly done less to prepare you for this.

"Uhm, hi," you say. Sans plops himself down across from you at the kitchen table.

"hey. what's up?"

You make an awkward face. "I have no idea where I'm at or how I got here."

Sans takes it all in stride, pulling up your location on google maps and letting you take it all in. It's a country you've never heard of in your life. You rub your hands over your face and feel like crying. Papyrus, out of the goodness of his heart, offers you their couch for the night.

"hey, paps, why don't you get the human some bed stuff?"

"GASP. YOU'RE RIGHT, BROTHER." Aaaaand Papyrus is gone, taking the stairs two at a time.

"so, I couldn't help but notice you had a lot on your mind. penny for your thoughts?" He holds up said coinage, and it earns him a chuckle from you. Sans laughs himself and sets it on the coffee table.

"I promise I'm not insane, but I'm not from here, and I have no memory of this country. At all." Sans' expression betrays nothing. He closes an eye socket.

"eeh, figured that was the case." He sees your startled expression and shrugs. "I'm good at reading people. what do ya remember?" You close your eyes. The memories roll through, starting with a field of white.

"Black. A lot of it. Something...white?" You gasp, and the name flies between your lips before you can stop it. "Gaster."

Sans jerks, and your eyes fly open. He stares at you like he's seen a ghost. Sweat rolls down his skull. "how-" You can feel the frustration from your day boil over, forming tears that roll down your cheeks in thick globs. You sob into your hands, trying to hide it.

"there there," Sans says, patting you on the back. You finish crying quicker than you expected.

"Sorry. It's been a day." Sans nods and drops his hand. It lays limply at his side. "Guess I gotta fess up now. There's no easy way to say this, but I think you of anyone in this universe would understand." Sans watches with bated breath, apprehension bleeding through his sole eye light.

"I'm not from this universe."

"sheesh. and here I was thinking you were a mage or something. what a relief."

#my work #undertale #undertale fanfiction #fanfiction #self insert #gender neutral reader #sans #Papyrus #Ink sans #Error Sans

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

for mermay, 24 indruck nsfw?

Here you go! 24 was Lighthouse, and I made it a continuation of this space mermay fill. NOTE: this fill contains oviposition.

Communication Log between Lieutenant of the Amnesty and Chief Astrobotantist Duck Newton.

Joseph: Storm is forecasted to last four days at least. We won’t be able to land on Atlantia to pick you up until it passes.

Duck: Roger that. We should be fine here; ‘Drid says the storms are dangerous for spacecrafts and travel but not for buildings. I’ll keep testing the specimens we found in the meantime.

Joseph: if it gets too dangerous, let us know and we’ll try to get an emergency retrieval ship to you.

Duck: Will do. Duck out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Atlantia, one of the four moons of the planet Oceana, is off limits to most. It’s home to precious minerals that the residents of the moon Aquaria have been known to go to war over, fighting to see who controls the territory in which the substance resides. To avoid these conflicts, the whole moon was declared a public resource, and all but the native Atlantians must acquire elaborate permits to visit. Outsiders are practically forbidden.

Unless said outsider is married to one of the most valuable individuals in the whole lunar system and said individual is suddenly very willing to throw his weight around for the sake of his beloved’s research.

Indrid’s negotiations were only able to secure permission for him and Duck, not the rest of the Amnesty, and so Duck spent the better part of two weeks scouring the plant life and trying to discern if the mineral make-up of the soil produced plants more likely to contain the curative properties he’s searching for. When the storm picked up, rendering the surface of the moon unsafe, Indrid apologized profusely for not foreseeing the change in the futures. Duck pointed out that it was sudden enough that the two of them had already arrived at the pick-up spot before the storm turned violent.

Of places to be sheltering during a storm, an Oceanic Beacon is at once an excellent and terrifying choice. It’s a combination of a lighthouse and landing strip, alerting travelers to the presence of land and the location to dock their craft. Because light from the beacon has to reach a massive distance into the sky and across the waves, the building lives beneath a dome of specially engineered, see-through glass. A storm has never so much as cracked one. But it means that Duck has a perfect view of the gigantic waves washing over them which, while awe-inspiring, makes his lizard brain certain he’s about to drown.

So he spends most of his time in the terrestrial rooms researching to keep his mind off the weather. Except for when Indrid swims up from the heavily fortified subaquatic portion of the lighthouse to visit him. Then he devotes every last bit of his energy to his husband. Most of the Aquariads he meets are shocked to discover he’s not only happy to be married to the eerie, formidable seer, but that he actively misses him when he’s out on his missions.

“The others are not too worried I hope?” Indrid swims to him as he comes down the stairs from the communication pad.

“Nope.” Duck pulls off the top of his uniform, “once you knew we had food to last over a month if we had to, I got a hell of a lot calmer too.” He drops into the pool, water carrying a hint of heat, as Indrid curls the celestial expanse of his tail around his waist. Duck is a strong swimmer, but Indrid’s ability to carry him to and fro without getting so much as winded makes him want to feign helplessness and spend his days in those undulating scales.

“In that case, sweet one, care to join me for a swim before dinner?”

Duck smiles, “You know it, sugar” and draws the alien in for a kiss as the lights of the beacon make gemstones of the salt spray on the glass.

--------------------------------------------------

Two days down, two to go, and Indrid wishes he could enjoy their little impromptu second honeymoon to it’s fullest (he’d taken Duck on a proper one his first visit back after joining the others on their expedition). His body has other plans; it seems to have caught on to the fact his partner keeps coming and going, and that if he wishes to have offspring with said partner, he needs to be ready (never mind that he and Duck cannot have offspring through any sort of biological means). So when Duck’s scent fills his nose and his laugh floods his ears, his body decides to fill his ovipositor.

Thus, he’s spent the last three days increasingly uncomfortable, the weight noticeable in his abdomen. His initial plan was to excuse himself early in the evening when they got home and masturbate until they were all released. But the beacon, while spacious, has very few rooms closed off, and the water is so clear that there are a high number of futures in which Duck catches him in the act.

Which is why, as the human sleeps a very safe distance from the edge of the pool (“‘Drid, if I fall in the worse that’ll happen is I get a hell of a wake up call” “yes but I cannot bear even the slightest risk of you drowning”), Indrid is squirming in an attempt to get comfortable. He doesn’t even realize he’s chirping in frustration until Duck murmurs his name.

“It, it is nothing sweet one, go back to sleep.”

“Darlin, your spots are goin’ green.” Duck indicates the flickers of sickly chartreuse in the water, “you feelin sick?”

“No. Or, ah, not in the sense you are thinkingoh, ohhh” he sighs, rubbing his face against Duck’s palm as the human gauges whether he’s feverish, “but I am achy and restless.”

“And hot, christ ‘Drid, there are med supplies here right? I mean, I got some in my bag, but they’re for humans-”

“I am not sick. It’s this” He rolls onto his back so Duck can see his cock straining to emerge.

“Sugar, you know you can ask for help with that any time.” Duck’s smile is sweet sin.

“No, it’s” Indrid whines as the tip emerges, the bulge of the first egg painfully obvious.

“Oh. Huh. Kinda figured you weren’t due for that again for a year or so. Not sure why; guess I just assumed Aquariads had a matin season.”

“Unfortunately it can happen quite often. If, if you do not mind, I will excuse myself and deal with it. It’s to the point where the eggs need to come out sooner rather than later.”

“Sure. Or, uh, if you want, I could, uh, help you out?”

--------------------------------------------------------------

The widening of Indrid’s eyes and the shock of orange that travels up his tail and fin suggests Duck has just done something remarkable.

“Surprise you, sugar?” He tucks a strand of silver hair the behind the aliens fanned out ear.

“Yes. There, there were no futures where you offered, why in the name of the deep did you?” His colors have turned nervous, but Duck spots occasional bursts of desire.

“Because” He sits up, patting his lap so his husband will rest his head in it and let Duck rub the knots in his neck, “you’re my ‘Drid; I wanna help you out, make you feel good too. And uh, I gotta admit, I been a little curious about it. Plus that holo-porn compendium you sent me while I was gone time before involved it a lot and it seems like it could be fun.”

“So you did watch it” Indrid looks up, grinning.

“Course I did. Gotta learn how to please my Aquariad husband.” He teases, kissing Indrid’s forehead.

“You need no help in that area whatsoever. I could not ask for a finer husband, human or otherwise.” Indrid kisses Duck’s belly through his thin shirt, then pauses, “you are not offering this out of a feeling of obligation, right?”

“Right. I want to do this with you, ‘Drid. Cross my heart.”

Red eyes skate up to his face, “In that case, disrobe and get in the water at once.”

Duck sinks into the clear depths the instant he’s naked, Indrid swimming back only long enough for him to get in before crowding him against the edge of the pool.

“My love.” Indrid purrs, kisses so languid and gentle they almost disguise the heat in his fingertips as gropes Duck’s ass, the force with which his tail forces his legs apart.

“You know itAHhh, fuck, fuckin love that” he groans as the tendriled tip of his cock teases Duck’s own, “so, uh, this gonna be that different from the way we normally do this?”

“For starters, I will not cum until all the eggs are deposited.” Indrid’s fin flickers pink, “and it will be more intense on your end, not only because of the stretch but because I have to be rather, ah, vigorous in order to make sure they all come out.”

“As opposed to all those times you don’t fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.” Duck snickers, wrapping his legs around the dark scales to help ease Indrid’s cock into him.

“It’s not my fault you are the most delectable, ah, ‘piece of ass’ I have ever seen. Did I use that correctly?”

“Yep” Duck tips his head back, allowing Indrid to kiss it as he pauses his thrust so his tendrils can stroke his G-spot before continuing deeper, “you been watchin earth porn for ideas?”

“Indeed. I also found some featuring an actor who looks rather like you, and watched it an embarrassing amount during your absences.” He chirps as he bottoms out and Duck toys with the sensitive band in his fin as Indrid positions them so the bottom half of his tail is flat against the wall, which lets him keep Duck pinned to it.

“You are going to squirm, and I do not want you doing so and coming off my cock.”

“Seem mighty confident you’re gonna get that reaction.” Duck nips his ear.

Indrid’s sharp-toothed grin takes on a hungry glint, “The futures tell me so. But since you seem to doubt them…”

“AhFUCK!” Duck’s back bangs into the wall as Indrid pulls halfway out and then drives back into him, “fuckyeah, sugar that feels so fuckin goodOHwhatthefuck” the bumps in Indrid’s cock are moving, the ones towards the base of the shaft grinding on Duck’s dick as they do.

“Nmmmm, I told you I was pent up, oh, oh yes, yes sweet one, get ready to take the firstAHhhnnn.”

“Jesusfuck” Duck bucks his hips as the first egg pushes into him. It’s not hard like a birds egg, more soft and squishy, but all the same his body convulses as it registers something inside him. His brain, however, sends a moan from his mouth because as alien as the sensation may be, the fact it’s Indrid doing it makes him wetter and harder than he’s been in weeks.

Better still is the look on Indrid’s face, his head tipped back in bliss as he fucks him. It’s only when he looks down that Duck sees the tears threatening his eyes.

“You, I, I’ve, you are letting me lay in you, letting me mate with you, no, no one has ever let me do this before.”

The heat spiking through him on the word mate changes to fierce affection at the thought that Indrid was denied such closeness, or any closeness, for so long.

“Oh darlin, c’mere” he guides the alien into a kiss, then moans as another egg presses into him. Indrid swallows the sound down, keeps Duck in the kiss until the pressure has subsided.

“Such a lovely little mate.”

“Do my best.”

Indrid rubs their cheeks together, “That is why this has been so frequent, you know. I am so very enamored with you that the primal parts of my system want nothing more than to fill you with my eggs, keep you here pampered and fucked out until we have a whole little school swimming about the house. I, ahhhn, I could even look after them on my own while you are away. Or, or if we decide that is not for us I want to lay in you every day so no one else will ever dare to think you could be theirs.”

“Not a fuckin chance, fuck, darlin” his thighs tighten around his tail as another egg pulses out of the tip, “it’s so fuckin hot when you talk like that.”

“Really? I was afraid I was babbling. OhOHohdear, ah, this is unexpected.”

“Uh-”

“Not in a bad way, but I am so aroused the eggs are going to start coming out more quickly. Which means, my darling husband, I suggest you hold on.”

“Way ahead of youUUUshit, fuck” his hands switch from gripping Indrid’s shoulders to thrown around them for dear life as Indrid bounces him roughly on his dick. There’s not pause between the fourth and fifth egg and he’s starting to feel full, squirms when the sixth egg almost pushes Indrid’s cock free.

“I, I told you so.” Indrid purrs, hands holding tight to Duck’s ass as another egg emerges, “but you are not going anywhere, little human. You are, nnng, staying right here, taking every last one of them, because you are my mate and if I want you full to burst you will be.”

“Holy fuck, ‘Drid” Duck buries his face in his husbands neck as his cock shifts backwards. The tip opens wider, covering all of Duck’s folds as the tendrils return to his dick, “fuck, fuck, sugar I’m gonna cum.”

“Yesss” Indrid growls, tail rippling as he forces the next egg into place, “that’s it, sweet one, cum for me, cum while I stuff you full, my perfect, perfect, wonderful one.”

Duck can’t even get words out as his orgasm races through him, muscles spasming in new ways around the eggs. He whines as Indrid continues bouncing him, eggs shifting and keeping his muscles from relaxing, tendrils keeping a rapid tempo on his dick.

“Oh, ohohohoh I am close, ohyes, Duck, my sweet Duck, you take me so well, take a little more, be a good mate and take the last one, take my cum, you are going to hold all of it until I am satisfied that you are mine AH, ahhhhyes” he trills and Duck grunts as he’s stretched wider by the last egg and flood of cum. Indrid clings to him, chirping and trilling as his tail twitches, until his cock retracts. Then it’s just the storm and the sound of their joint panting as Indrid swims them weakly backwards to a shallow section of the pool.

“Here” the alien guides Duck to recline half out of the water, “if you spread your legs and relax, most of them will fall out on their own.”

“Gotcha.” Duck can neither keep his eyes open nor stay upright, so Indrid adjusts so the human is resting atop him, back against his chest. One by one, the eggs slip out dissolving in the water after a few moments. The last two prove stubborn and Indrid massages his abdomen, cooing about how wonderfully he did, until they too slip away.

“Thank you.” Indrid murmurs, nestling his chin on his shoulder.

“Any time, darlin. Or, uh, maybe not too many times back to back. Not sure my junk can take it. Still, better we did that than tryin it up my ass. Woulda lead to some awkward med records and my crew never lettin me live it down.”

“Do not be so sure. I suspect Joseph would have been envious.”

Duck snorts a laugh, looking over his shoulder in surprise.

“I read his sexual preferences on those forms they made you each submit.” Then he smiles like a sunrise welcoming Duck home, “but I think I made the right choice, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sugar, I do.”

#indruck #indrid cold/Duck Newton #mermay #mermay fills #terato #exophilia

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imagineitup · 5 years ago

Text

lavender daze: regulus black x reader

request: Hey! I don’t remember if you still do requests or not just ignore this if you aren’t lol but if you are, are you able to make a Regulus Black x reader and she’s James Potters little sister and a Hufflepuff? You can just make the settings and everything up it doesn’t really matter to me. I just think that would be a sweet oneshot. Thanks!

a/n: of course i can!! i LOVE YOU also regulus is the loml now i don’t make the rules

- -

As the cloying scent of lavender ghosts through the corridors of Hogwarts, you easily remember a memory of Regulus Black telling you, not without a faint smile, that this was all Helena Ravenclaw’s doing. It made sense, after all, considering lavenders were her favorite flower.

You remember the first time you met him, too. It was a day just like this, so quiet in the castle that footsteps were easily heard echoing through the turrets, with sunlight streaming through arched windows to cast an amber glow against faded limestone walls. Sleep might have caused your particular mistake that day, but all you remembered was that when you saw someone with black hair and a familiar, lanky posture strolling around the corridors, you just knew. James had Sirius over all the time, and the three of you had your full share of inside jokes. It sucked that you were in a different house, but that didn’t seem to matter too much. And while maybe Sirius wouldn’t have been the type to scuffle at stone with his feet, you’re glad you didn’t take the time to notice.

“Tag! Try to catch me now, loser!” You had jumped up on the person, laughing as you kicked them in the leg as you dropped back to the floor.

“Ouch?” The person turned, irritated, albeit very amused. One thing was for sure, as you felt your gut drop to the floor, was that this was definitely not Sirius. Oh no. It was Regulus, the supposed “mommy’s boy” Black, as dubbed by Sirius.

Despite all this, Regulus had been really nice about the whole incident. And now the two of you were best friends. Even closer than you and Sirius, and Sirius was over practically all the time.

Now, as you follow the scent of lavender, you turn the corner and nearly run into the one-and-only, your face breaking out into a relieved smile. “Aha! I was looking for you, dummy.”

Regulus looks at you and raises an eyebrow. “And I, you. You do realize you’re ten minutes late, right?”

“It’s not my fault the staircases decided to strand me on the seventh floor!”

“Ah, the good old staircase excuse.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Rude.”

“Were you watering your succulents again?”

“Rude!”

“Am I right?”

You sigh, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “Yes.”

Regulus shakes his head and regards you with amusement. There’s something else there, fondness, and it changes something within him. This fondness turns him softer around the edges, makes him more vulnerable, maybe, and you find yourself leaning closer to him. Wisps of his hair frame the side of his face, and you wonder if maybe Regulus wouldn’t mind if you were to run your hands through it --

“I don’t mind waiting,” Regulus says. “Your succulents are pretty tolerable.”

You stifle a laugh, thinking about all the times Regulus has rolled his eyes when Sirius takes ten minutes to emerge from the Hogwarts Express, and how he looks like he’s going to actually combust when the Hogwarts Sorting takes a few minutes longer than usual. Sure. “The Regulus Black doesn’t mind waiting? Pssh, bullshit. That’s cause you love me,” you tease.

Regulus smiles to himself, dropping his gaze. “Everyone loves you.”

You look up, startled. He meets your gaze, and an uncertain smile softly tugs at his lips. You’re unable to stare at him for too long, and you flush, taking a deep breath as you try to gather your words. “You smell the lavender?”

Regulus smirks. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he nods, the jut of his chin dipping and slowly returning to the same at-ease position.

“No response? Wow, Reg, cold stuff.”

His chest heaves with amusement. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, maybe something like, ‘oh, yeah, it’s because of Helena Ravenclaw.’’

“But you know that.”

You laugh. “Yeah, because you told me.”

Regulus’s smirk grows more prominent.

You’re about to open your mouth when his smirk turns into a grin, and he reaches out to gently touch his finger to your lips. “And now you want me to say, with mock surprise, ‘you remembered’?”

You stare at Regulus amusedly and fervently hope he can’t tell how hopelessly gone you are for him.

“I’m glad you remembered,” Regulus says, and he’s honest, now. “I’m really glad you remembered.” He gazes at you for a moment, his eyes drifting to your lips, and then he lets his hand fall back to his side.

“You wanna know what else I remember?”

“Not really.” Regulus says, sarcastically.

You jab your elbow into his side, and he somehow manages to elegantly wrap his arms around you and drop his head to nestle between your shoulders. His warm breath ghosts against your neck, and his lips are so close that you might, maybe, feel their proximity from your ear. “I’m just kidding,” he says. “Tell me. What is it?”

You can’t help the shiver that runs through your body, and you scowl as he grins. Evil, evil, evil.

“Remember when I randomly attacked you in the hall that day?”

Regulus snickers. His eyes wrinkle, and he pulls away to cross his arms. “Yeah. Imagine some weirdo jump-scaring you and calling you a ‘loser’. So sweet.”

“Oh, please. That was the best moment in your Hogwarts career.”

“Maybe so,” Regulus says, and his eyes soften. He turns away, scuffing his shoes at the ground, and maybe his voice is a little too casual when he says, “I also remember you wouldn’t say ‘hello’ to me for the next two weeks.”

You fold your face in your hands, still pouting from the loss of warmth. Because it doesn’t look it, but Regulus is so warm, and having his arms around you felt so right; “I didn’t think you wanted to be friends,” is what you say, flushing. “I was so embarrassed. Regulus, you don’t even know --”

“I didn’t.”

You blink, jolting out of your thoughts, confused. “Huh?”

Regulus shrugs, looking down to tap his fingers against his leg. “You were right. I didn’t want to be friends.”

“That’s so mean,” you whine. “You’re so rude today, oh my god.”

Regulus meets your gaze slowly, softly, almost begging you to understand something. He doesn’t move from where he stands, leaning against the wall.

“Regulus?”

He just regards you quietly, his familiar closed-off expression starting to fold across his features. Suddenly he’s not soft anymore, just cold, all cool edges, and you feel your vibrance start to fade. “You don’t … Do you still feel that way?”

Regulus sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks up to the ceiling as if he’s thinking, considering, and then lets his hooded gaze fall back to you. He’s exactly the same, all serious and Regulus-like, and you’re starting to get really afraid to why he looks so unapproachable and unfazed by this whole conversation. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” You unconsciously start stepping backwards, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Is that why you wanted to talk? I mean, if I did something then I want to fix it.”

Regulus half-smiles, and a little of the familiarity softens his face. He stretches out his arms, shifting his weight so he leans against the wall, a little more casually. “Hm ... no.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“Reg,” you say, searching for words and coming up with nothing, “I’m so confused right now. You’re acting insane, and I know I didn’t do anything to you. Now you’re saying you don’t want to be friends? I mean, what --”

Regulus shakes his head, making you pause. “Yeah. I don’t.”

You feel your world start to crumble, and somehow it feels cold all over. Cold, cold, cold.

Then it’s like a light switch clicks, a beat, and there’s something flickering across Regulus’ face. The sides of his face start twitching, a smile hinting at the corner of his lips. “Not just friends.”

Oh.

So that’s where this is going. Your world starts to spin, and you’re all out of sorts, off-balance and unable to believe that you’re really hearing this. Your smile starts to grow, and you step closer to Regulus with your heart flipping around in your chest.

But … Regulus has also been an absolute prick for making you think he was going to platonically break up with you.

“Okay,” you end up saying, “I guess I’ll leave you alone to brood now. Your loss.”

Regulus looks at you, barely able to suppress his laughter and the smile’s now fully formed across his face. You know him well enough to know he sees straight through your act; he knows you well enough, by now, to know that you feel the same exact way.

He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer in one, swift motion. “Nope.”

You roll your eyes, letting your hands fall against his chest. “No?”

“I don’t want to brood. And I don’t want to be friends.” He sighs frustratedly, looking at you with a million different emotions at once. “I want to be so much more than friends.”

You’re speechless, hanging on to his every word like it’s all you can do to not fall apart.

“(Y/N),” Regulus whispers, “you’re turning me into a walking cliché. Please say something.”

You stumble and lean into him, inhaling. He smells like lavender, and you suppose you do, too. “Well, I feel the same.”

Regulus freezes for a moment, and you can see the exact moment the words register in his brain, and you watch as he takes in the weight of your words. His expression softens, and he cradles your face in his hands, his thumb tracing against your cheek. There’s so much adoration in his eyes that he finally lets surface, and you feel yourself melt against him. “I want to kiss you so badly.”

“Then do it.” Your eyes flutter. “Loser.”

Regulus hums as he laughs, breaking the gap between you to press his lips against yours. His lips are warm, and when he kisses you softly you can’t seem to stand right, your hands fisting against his robes as he turns to lightly back you against the wall. He kisses you fiercer, then gently pulls back to murmur against your lips; “I’m not a loser.”

You’re breathless, staring up at him in a daze. “My loser?”

Regulus smiles, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer to his chest. He’s smiling so much you can just feel it, and he shrugs contentedly. “Okay. I can live with that.”

“I lied,” you murmur, pressing a quick kiss to his chin, “you’re beautiful, and now you’re gonna be stuck with me forever. Boyfriend.”

“Okay,” Regulus whispers, grinning dumbly. “I like that much better.”

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black fanfic #regulus black imagine #regulus black oneshot #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus black fanfiction #hogwarts imagine #regulus deserved better #regulus x reader #regulus imagine #regulus x you #regulus x y/n #regulus oneshot #regulus fanfic #regulus fanfiction #i edited this!#regulus

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pinnithin-writes · 4 years ago

Text

you’re only mortal

A short narrative for an NPC in my current dnd campaign. 1486 words.

The first time Reynin Carlile died, it was a surprise.

A sword between his shoulder blades and he was done. The steel severed his spinal cord, punched through his lungs, and emerged on the other side. Reynin didn’t even see who stabbed him. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The second time was a surprise, too, if only for the fact that dying doesn’t happen twice.

Reynin awoke to a dark silence and a dull pain in his back. His hands were clasped together, which was odd, because Reynin didn’t sleep like this. He felt cold metal beneath his fingers and his confusion grew, because he definitely didn’t sleep with his sword. His dark vision did little to orient him, and his breathing quickly thickened the surrounding air, so he deduced he was in an enclosed space. Rich cushioning cradled him on all sides, soft and almost comfortable.

Oh, he was in a coffin.

Reynin’s pulse spiked. He rapidly remembered dying, and then dreaming, and then faint traces of a conversation. Something older than him, older than Eunara, had decided he would live again, but the details slipped away when he reached for them. All he could deduce was that his goddess had touched him and he was blessed to return.

Some use that was, locked in a casket. Reynin swiftly panicked, beating on the lid and shouting for someone, anyone, to hear him. His own voice was close and too loud in his ears, the pounding of his fists ringing dead. It occurred to him that there was likely a mountain of graveyard dirt overhead, the realization lodging in his throat and choking him. He swallowed and hiccupped, terrified as his thoughts raced to Hartline, to his friends, and the sword that had buried itself in his chest.

Someone had killed him. As the air thinned around him, Reynin was able to cobble this truth together. Someone deliberately drove their blade into his back - a real, living person, because the wraiths they’d been fighting were unarmed - and ended his life. He remembered a brief flash of steel breaking through his ribcage, mild surprise, and then nothing. His lungs burned as he sucked for air, tears streaming down either side of his face and pooling in his ears.

It fully hit him. I died.

I died and they buried me.

His oxygen went quick and his life burned away again.

The third, fourth, and fifth times were much the same - awakening, remembering, and dying quickly of hypoxia. It took a few deaths for the panic to settle down, to use the precious minutes of lucidity he had before confusion set in, and assess his situation. Reynin’s suffocation took a little longer the sixth time around as he forced himself to breathe slower and think.

Soyinka wouldn’t have given him this gift for nothing. It would be a waste to bring him back - repeatedly, at that - only for him to remain locked underground for eternity. She must believe he was capable of escaping, and that he had all the necessary resources to do so. His chest ached as he struggled for air. What tools were in this box with him?

His sword. His hands. His brain. That pretty much summed it up. He didn’t have the space for a good strike with his fists and his sword was all but useless, but Reynin could still feel magic guttering low within him. That candle flame of hope was all he had.

With a murmured plea to Soyinka, Reynin summoned what little magic remained and blasted the roof of his prison. The force of the impact knocked the air from his lungs, but he was rewarded with the sharp CRACK of splitting wood. Dizzy, uncoordinated, he hit it again, and blow by blow he worked the lid loose. Every breath was fire until, suddenly, it was earth - clods of soil rushed in to bury Reynin further.

He threw a sleeve over his face as graveyard dirt surged around him, coughing and swearing and struggling. This sort of suffocation was somehow worse, loam crowding his lungs and crusting his eyes. He sucked a breath through his sleeve, making his choice in the same moment he recognized it. Choke on dirt and continue to die here, or crawl to the surface and live.

Reynin crawled.

He only died once more in his desperate scramble to freedom. By the time he suffocated for the seventh time, Reynin concluded he’d much rather be stabbed again than experience another death like that. Earth was everywhere- it blocked his ears and caked his hair and coated his throat and sealed his eyes shut. He was no longer an elf but a worm, and for what felt like an eternity the crawling was all he knew.

Until he finally emerged on the surface, retching and coughing up grave soil, limbs trembling from the effort. Vaguely, he registered cool night air on his skin. He was alive. Somehow, despite everything, he was alive. He wept and knuckled debris from his eyes, greedily pulling in gasp after gasp of blessed fresh air. He was never taking breathing for granted ever again.

When he was finally able to see, he found himself staring at his own headstone, washed pale in the moonlight.

REYNIN CARLILE 1588 - 1611 BELOVED COMPANION AND FRIEND

With shaking fingers, Reynin checked his own pulse. It tapped out an abnormally rapid rhythm, but blood was moving through his veins. He certainly felt alive. Living hurt - his skin stung with the scrapes of clawing through the soil and oxygen deprivation made his head ache. He knelt in the dirt and listened to the wind in the grass, at a loss for what to do next.

It wasn’t like he could go back to the temple. He would be decried as a heretic for his resurrection. Or murdered again. Both, in all likelihood. The space between his shoulder blades ached where the blade pierced him. He didn’t have a clue who killed him - none of his fellow paladins hated him enough to do such a thing, as far as he was aware - but whoever was responsible likely lurked within the temple walls this very moment.

He could draw conclusions about motives. Reynin Carlile wasn’t a vain individual, but he possessed enough self awareness to know he was both admired and reviled, depending on who was asked. Over the years, he’d collected enough information about the Mortal Coil’s history to be dangerous. In hindsight, the level to which he spoke out against his leadership was probably what did him in.

He glanced down at his funeral whites, muddied and ruined from his escape, searching for regret and failing to find any. This was a death Hartline would approve of, he thought wryly. Then his breath snagged in his throat.

Hartline.

Reynin’s heart broke all at once when he realized what this meant for them. He couldn’t tell Hartline he was alive. That he had been murdered, met Soyinka, and returned. Hartline would make a hotblooded decision and get themself killed in ten seconds flat. Guilt crawled inside him. His absence ensured Hartline’s safety. Maybe in their grief they’d be overlooked by whoever chose to end Reynin’s life.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, carving tracks through the grime on his face. My lady, he thought, what a heavy gift you’ve given me.

Suddenly, rather than feeling bewildered and inconvenienced, he was very sad that he’d died. Even though he returned, the life he knew was over, his path abruptly diverted to a bigger purpose. A different sort of dying, unmourned and unremarkable. He cried with a lot of dignity for someone who just emerged from his own grave. As he watched the soil soak up his tears, he decided he deserved a good and proper breakdown once he was safely away from Whitecap. A private funeral, just for himself.

Unsteady, chest aching, Reynin stood. He picked his way out of the bed of loose earth until he stood on solid grass, gaze lingering on the distant temple spires that speared through the gray dawn. Unconsciously, he tried to brush the dirt off his robes before realizing how utterly useless that would be. A long, thin sigh stuttered out of him. But then he wiped his eyes. Raised his chin.

Enough of this. He had the right to feel sorry for himself, but certainly not the time. Running into his own mourners was not ideal, and the sun was quickly rising. Reynin turned his eyes from the horizon and began picking his way through the graveyard.

Soyinka’s Blessed, he mused as he went. What a joke. He wondered if his goddess was regretting her decision, watching her Blessed leave town on foot with his death count already at seven.

A few miles from Whitecap, he stopped short with a barely audible, “Fuck.”

He’d left his sword in the coffin.

#ink #dnd #fiction #writing #cw taphephobia #im tired of looking at this just take it #maybe dont read if youre afraid of being buried alive

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sockablock · 4 years ago

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When in sudden need of a place to stay, Caleb Widogast finds a room for rent at a price so low he can’t believe his luck. Ignoring the concerns of his friends, he moves in and quickly finds himself tangled up in the life of one Essek Thelyss, a reclusive scholar who may be even stranger than Caleb himself...

(start) - (previous) - (next)

Chapter 2: A Name to the Face

The sun lanced arcs across Caleb’s face as he set his phone down on the nightstand, and yawned.

He’d gotten used to sleeping in strange places during the last few years of his life, and there was a part of him that missed the coziness of his room back in his and Nott’s apartment. But the other part of him, namely the part comprised of bruises from too-narrow walls—relished in this chance to stretch out a little.

Eventually, he managed to sit up. The mattress did not dip sullenly with his weight, indicative of its newness and quality.

He glanced around. The door was closed, though Frumpkin was nowhere to be seen. Then again, mundane cats were already hard enough to confine; as a feline of the fey persuasion, Frumpkin went where Frumpkin pleased.

Caleb took his sweet time making the bed, adjusting the blinds, peering out the window over quiet streets, before eventually rifling through his cardboard boxes for something proper to wear. He also made a mental note to, at some point, ask Mr. Thelyss how the laundry worked.

Then he straightened his collar, took a deep breath, and wandered out into the kitchen.

—

Jester was nose-deep in a box of cinnamon rolls when Beauregard emerged from the shower. Peals of steam curled past the doorframe and dissipated out into the hallway.

“I thought those were supposed to last us the week,” Beau said when she noticed her roommate. “Didn’t we decide we wouldn’t go back to the bakery until Thursday?”

“Oh, but Beau,” icing shimmered in the corner of Jester’s mouth. “Beau, they’re just so tasty. I can’t resist.”

Beauregard pulled the towel off her head and gave her hair one last muss-up. Then she slung herself backwards into a chair and stole some frosting.

“Fair enough,” she licked a finger. “Just be sure to save something for Yasha when she gets back.”

“Back?” Jester’s cheerful demeanor vanished. “Oh, no, did she leave again? I thought she was done doing that!”

“Oh, no she didn’t run off, I think she just went to some errands, or something?” Beau scratched the side of her head. “She mentioned something about seeing a butcher.”

“Oh.” Jester relaxed. “Well that’s alright, then. Though we don’t really cook much.”

“Maybe she’s trying something new. It’s better than eating rats all the time, right?”

Jester gave this due consideration. “I think she only did that once. And then Fjord threw up, so she decided to stop.”

“Hm,” Beau shrugged. “I guess that’s nice of her. Oh, hey, speaking of stopping, what the hell is up with Caleb? Has he responded? With pictures and actual information?”

Jester groaned. “He’s being a real butt about it. He’s obviously there, but he isn’t sending us anything good.”

Beau raised a cinnamon roll. “The bastard.”

—

In the light of day, Mr. Thelyss’s kitchen gleamed with tidiness and disuse. In fact, it seemed like only the coffeemaker and microwave ever got any attention from their owner.

Caleb added another step to his mental moving day to-do-list: find the nearest grocery store and get some cereal. And coffee. And maybe a loaf of bread, if he was feeling extravagant.

He settled instead for pouring himself a glass of water and vowing that he would at least pick up lunch once he actually ventured outside. He slid into the kitchen, found a neutral-looking glass cup, and filled it up in the sink.

When he turned, he realized that something was different about the counter.

The little box of cheesecake was gone.

There was a note left, however. It read: Thank you very much, Mr. Widogast.

So, Caleb thought to himself. This meant that his mystery landlord had come home at some point in the night. And…as his gaze drifted past the kitchen and over to the front door of the apartment…yes, there in the foyer was a pair of shoes and a fine, but thin, black cloak.

Caleb had never seen anything like it before. It seemed as if the pattern had been designed to almost be worn like some kind of long poncho. Its hem brushed just over the floor.

What kind of person would wear something like this? The amused thought of vampire briefly flickered through his mind, but he shook it off and chalked it up to spending too much time with Jester.

He glanced back at the note. Something in him also registered: charmingly polite.

He shook his head. Speaking of Jester, he still had a promise to fulfill…

—

“Fjord, those are ugly.”

“What? I think they look nice—”

“Nice won’t cut it! I need something amazing! It’s been months since I’ve last seen Yeza. I have to really blow him away.”

“Look, what you see is what we’ve got. And anyway, what’s wrong with Delphiniums—”

Nott was standing on a small turquoise stool that some of the more vertically-challenged customers of the Blooming Grove required to reach the counter. Her finger was swaying dangerously underneath the nose of a long-time friend and even longer-time frenemy, Fjord, currently on register duty.

All around them, the sweet and mellow scent of dozens upon dozens of coastal flowers twirled and trilled and danced through the air. Large windows set into the pale green walls let in sunlight and a view of the gardens out back.

“They’re blue!” Nott screeched. “I don’t want blue, Yeza’s going to think I’m not happy to see him!”

“Everyone likes blue,” Fjord said defensively. “Just look at Jester. She’s practically got a fan club. Fine, fine,” he added, when her expression didn’t change, “I can do you some roses—”

“Roses are cliché.”

“They’re a goddamn symbol of love, Nott.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I don’t just want a symbol of love, I want a symbol of…of passion. Of devotion. Of l—”

“Look, just wait a bit, and Caduceus will be back. He’s the one who actually knows the names of all these things,” Fjord sighed. “He’ll be able to tell you if those even are Delphiniums.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“How have you managed to keep this job, Fjord?”

“I don’t have to help you, you know.”

“Technically, I think you d—"

And then, their phones buzzed.

—

Nott glanced back at Fjord.

“Do you think he doesn’t know?”

Fjord shrugged. “Let’s just see what he says.”

Nott groaned. “It’ll probably be hours until we find out.”

—

“He’s going to die tonight, then,” said Beau, kicking off her sneakers. The front door shut behind her with a click. “That’s, like, the first rule to committing a crime. Don’t let them see your face.”

“I think it’s kind of romantic,” Jester said. Now she was in the living room, sprawled across the couch. “It’s like…a forbidden meeting. Maybe he’ll never find out what Essie looks like. Isn’t that sad?”

“Essek,” Beau corrected, and set her keys aside. “And I don’t see what’s so sad about that.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jester lavished in her sigh. “The saddest and loneliest kind of thing. To never see who you’re living with? If you can’t even put a face to the name, you might as well be sharing your house with a ghost.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “That’s…a little dramatic, but I see what you mean. Anyway, this is a point against the guy. In my books, that is. And I’m keeping track.”

“Oh? How many points does he have?”

Beau joined her on the couch and crossed her arms. “Not many. He’s mysterious, and weird. Those are negatives. Standoffish, if he didn’t even greet Caleb on the first day. And if he isn’t a criminal, and is actually renting out a place that cheap, he must be a total idiot. Or desperate.”

“For what?” Jester asked.

She shrugged. “Who knows? The company?”

—

Essek was, as a matter of fact, quite desperate. Desperate for another five minutes of sleep.

It was now long after the Mighty Nein had given up on their interrogation, though he was not aware of this. Instead, what was most on his mind was the strange…the odd vibrating right next to his head.

Blindly, he reached out to slap his alarm. His hand connected, but the noise did not stop.

Then he realized that it was coming from the other side of the bed.

He shuffled around to take a peek.

An eye was staring back at him. Large and blue.

“What in the name of the L—”

The cat yawned, and its mouth stretched open to reveal rows of teeth.

Essek hesitated. He rubbed his face.

“How did…what is…”

And then the puzzle pieces slid into place.

He racked his brain for the name.

“F…Fr…Frumpkin?” he guessed.

The cat yawned again. This time, it followed the gesture up with a mrpf, and unfurled its body. And stretched.

“Hm,” said Essek. “He did…warn me, but…I am not sure if I approve of you coming in here like this. Without announcement, especially.”

Frumpkin stared back up at him. He tilted his head and put on his most endearing expression.

“Well,” Essek relented in the onslaught of this, “at least you don’t seem to be the kind that sheds. Actually…”

He leaned in as close as he dared, a pair of icy eyes tracking his every movement.

“…actually, I’m not at all sure what kind of kitty you are. Your ears are…very long. And your markings are…”

And then Essek realized.

“A familiar?”

Frumpkin blinked at him.

—

Caleb had found the grocery store on his second try, and had also made note of a bookstore and bus stop on the way there. Now, after a long day of scouting out the neighborhood, he was back in his bedroom again, sorting clothes. No use in holding off, after all, not even if it made him feel slightly strange to be putting all his things away in someone else’s bedroom.

He picked up a t-shirt and examined the back. STAFF, it read. He had no idea for what. The Broad Barn’s secondhand clothing pile was vague at best and hazardous at worst.

Another part of Caleb, the part not fully consumed by the current task at hand, registered the faintest sound outside. It was ruled out as being not important.

Caleb produced another shirt. This one had a picture of a cat on it, red beams of light shooting out from its eyes. This had been a New Dawn present from—surprising to everyone—Yasha.

It had thus far found a long and happy life as the top half of Caleb’s pajamas. He’d tried to wear it in public once, and been bullied mercilessly by Beauregard.

On the other side of the room, past the drawers and the bed, was a small folding table that had been set up by Essek, likely as a desk. It was the sort of low contraption that eliminated any possibility of chairs, but it made a lot of sense for apartment living and was sized well enough for sitting on the floor. It was miles above Caleb’s old arrangement, a piece of plywood on a milk crate.

Right now, this new desk was covered in reams upon reams of notebook paper. Contrary to expectation, however, this paper was not lined with the standard narrow rule of most academic stationary. Instead, a pattern of lines and circles extended out from the center of the page, covering every inch in an odd spiral. Dozens upon dozens of these sheets were strewn about now, with hasty pencil-markings splattered across the page.

A particularly keen-eyed individual might have noticed that some of the markings were crossed-out. Redoubled, re-arranged, re-placed, or removed.

A particularly keen-eyed individual with the right kind of background would have noticed immediately that many of these runes were transmutative.

Back on his side of the bed, Caleb was humming.

—

When the cat—the familiar, likely a fey one, at that—did not decide to claw Essek’s eyes out, he gingerly picked it up under its forearms and carried it out of his bedroom.

He entered the living room, and saw that it was empty. The curtains were drawn open, however, and at this point the late-summer sun was just beginning to crest low over the horizon.

Essek raised an eyebrow at Frumpkin. “So. Where is your master, hm?”

Frumpkin meowed. It meant absolutely nothing to Essek, but he nodded anyway on principle.

“I understand that you are…well, from what I think I know about ordinary cats, you might like to wander around. But the same rules that apply to your wizard apply to you as well, okay?”

He walked Frumpkin into the living room and put him down on the couch.

“I would appreciate it if you did not enter my bedroom without invitation. The study as well, yes? Meow if you understand.”

Frumpkin stared at him. Frumpkin opened his mouth. Frumpkin closed it again.

It was a vague enough gesture that Essek could not tell if this was a response. He sighed.

“This is why I never bothered with getting one of you, you know. And I’m not even talking about the food bills. Er…do you eat?”

Frumpkin repeated the gesture. Essek repeated it back at the cat in a burst of childish impulse, then caught himself.

Gods, talking to Verin yesterday must have put him in an odd mood. And his brother had kept going on and on about life back in Rosohna, about how wonderful it is, Essek, how much Mother misses you, Essek, how I wish you’d visit, Essek—all that nostalgia couldn’t be good for the mind. Especially when unsolicited.

Still, this did not stop him from checking his messages in the kitchen while he waited for his morning—afternoon—evening—coffee to brew. In the background, Frumpkin rolled over on the sofa. Verin had mentioned something that he’d wanted to talk about, that he’d send over later…

Essek opened up their conversation. Then he scowled.

—

A solitary figure stalked through the dimming streets of Nicodranas. She stretched, working out the knots in her back, upper arms, feeling the scabs on her knuckles and their sting.

She grinned, wide and toothy, in the sunset.

Unconventional, but it worked.

—

Caleb had a perfect memory, and never forget anything. As such, the three core tenets of his tenancy in this apartment were virtually scored into his mind.

Be quiet. Be organized. And do the recycling.

Now he stood outside the apartment complex. The winding streets formed a gentle little plaza where the neighboring buildings all shared an open space, which included the public recycling cans.

There hadn’t actually been that much to take out, aside from an empty carton of ramen, a few cat food tins, and some assorted items that Mr. Thelyss must have left behind last night. Still, Caleb had wanted to prove how serious he was about following the Code of Conduct, and so had made the journey downstairs to be a responsible citizen.

The breeze wound around his ankles. Nearby, a few kids were running around with their mother, and a jogger moseyed past their street. It was a peaceful sight, underscored by the distant call of gulls and a setting sun.

Caleb had just nudged open the lid of the recycling bin when the shouting began.

Actually, it was less of a shouting and more of a heated argument, augmented by the harsh syllables of a language that Caleb did not recognize.

If he had, it would have sounded something like this:

“—impossible! I refuse. I did not give my permission—”

“Permission? Why would she need your permission—”

“Because it is my house! And this is my city—”

“Your city? Brother, you’ve only been there a few months—”

“It’s been a year and a half, Verin. A peaceful year and a half, mind.”

“Really? Well, I am certain it will remain that. And anyway, she’s not even going there for you.”

“Hah! I have a feeling that she is visiting Nicodranas expressly to do so. The gala is just an excuse for her to come here and poke into everything I’m doing—”

“Look, look, don’t shout at me. I am just the messenger. If you’re so upset, go and call Mother—”

Caleb swung the bag into the can. As he closed the lid, his curiosity got the better of him and he found himself surreptitiously scanning the perimeter with the universal creep of eavesdroppers everywhere.

Quickly, he found the source of the sound. There was a figure standing in front of his building, pacing back and forth underneath the awning, waving one hand around in frustration. The shadows prevented him from getting a better look, but the figure seemed lithe, and very annoyed.

Caleb would have to slip past him to get back inside.

Tactically, he pulled out his phone and pretended to be incredibly engrossed with its contents. Luckily, it seemed to work—and out of the corner of his eye he even noticed the figure hastily stepping aside.

Then, unluckily, the figure followed him.

Caleb didn’t dare look up. But he could feel the stranger’s presence trail him all the way into the elevator, then settle down next to him as the doors slid shut.

Caleb went to hit the number four. So did the stranger. Their fingers collided.

“Ah—"

“Scheisse, I am sor—”

And then he stopped.

Caleb Widogast was decidedly not a man of the world. He’d never left the continent of Wildemount, for instance, nor could he claim to have seen everything it had to offer. But he had fancied himself rather well-read, and believed that he perhaps had experienced more than the average person.

This was the first time in his life that he’d seen a dark elf.

He knew that they existed, of course, but in the way that he knew the names of far-off places, as distant trivia irrelevant to his life. He knew, for example, that they were native to Xhorhas, and that many of their societies lived underground. He knew that their closest civilization was ruled by a powerful queen. He also knew that in less-polite circles, some Empire elites still believed them to be backwater savages and monsters.

This one was wearing a green t-shirt. His hair was a messy sweep to one side.

“—ry.” He finished, as quickly as he could.

The dark elf shrugged. His eyes—a pale slate gray—took in Caleb’s appearance, then the number they’d both pressed.

“I do not recall ever seeing you,” the elf said. His voice was still a little strained, as if something from before—that argument, perhaps—was bothering him immensely.

“I, ah, I’m new,” Caleb said.

The elf raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

Then he turned back around to stare at the door. Caleb was more than happy not to engage. He just hoped he hadn’t stared long enough to offend a potential neighbor.

The elevator rose three floors. On the fourth one, it stopped.

He quickly ducked out, sandals pattering on the ground, and it was only once he’d gotten to the door of his apartment and started to punch in the code that he realized the elf was still behind him, still standing there, still annoyed, and so he turned—

—

“Excuse me,” said Essek tetchily. “Why are you entering my home?”

The human blinked.

“Er…this is…where I live.”

“What? But—”

For the second time that day, Essek realized.

“Um,” said Caleb Widogast. “Would your last name...happen to be ‘Thelyss’?”

— — —

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