#if my hands didn't cramp up on my tiny phone then I too

[guhamun]

[I love watching this video with Cal because it's so good fdsfdsfds. Makes me think of when I had to fight L.u Bu in W.o Long and if you didn't block / dodge like your life depended on it you were going to get murdered by him or his horse or both. Whenever I want to know how a character fights so I can remember how to write it, I look at a video.]

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

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Part I

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Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house. 

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands. 

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events. 

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass. 

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No" 

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass. 

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist. 

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit. 

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish. 

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind." 

"I do," he says simply. 

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much. 

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it. 

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again. 

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal. 

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence. 

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed." 

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge. 

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?" 

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's. 

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze. 

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert. 

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath. 

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter. 

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue. 

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him. 

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?" 

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops. 

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair. 

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer. 

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides. 

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes. 

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him. 

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door. 

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand. 

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it. 

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty. 

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help. 

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[takes1]

libero!reader confessing to aone takanobu

apologies if there's more grammatical errors in this than usual; i wrote and formatted it on my phone while rotting in bed in order to self soothe and ignore cramps

warnings. none, sfw

details. fem!reader / aone fluff / setting friends up together / forced crush confession / a squabble / aone is a huge / libero!reader / date tech girls' team!reader / aone being shy / reader being shy / a bit of comedy / 2.4k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests open.

It was after school, at the end of a long and tiring practice, when things started flying off the rails and spiraling out of your control.

"So, you know how you said you had a crush on Aone?" One of your teammates began.

Of course you remembered; your team basically forced you to say it aloud for the first time at practice yesterday. It was only by accident that they realized, but a stranger would have assumed you told them you had superpowers or something by how excited they all got.

It was a lot of commotion for a secret you were more than comfortable keeping.

"Well, we thought it would be good to tell him. The guys will be here in a few minutes, so you'll have the chance."

Your heart started pounding again, like you were about to get back onto the court- Was this a joke?

"What?" The word slipped from you, dumb and toneless, as you glanced back and forth between members of your team for the punchline that never came.

"No, I'm- I told you I'm not going to tell him. That's not happening." You shook your head, but nobody was looking at you.

They were all looking to each other, like you had ruined their plans.

Your team captain shrugged, "If you're not going to do it yourself, I'll have to carry you."

Your body automatically lurched away from her grab, mind elsewhere and racing, but stumbled back into a few of your other teammates. When you tried to hide behind them, they lunged at you and successfully grabbed three of your limbs to drag you towards the designated delivery woman.

Was everybody part of this? Surely somebody didn't agree with a confession of this nature.

"No! No, nonono, please-!"

A loud, uncontrollable squeak cut your own words off as you felt your body getting lifted from the floor by multiple teammates, legs first.

Upside down, you could see the boys team filing into the gym from the door. That meant he was here. That meant they knew, too. None of the guys were ever here for practice this early. A rush of adrenaline clouded your brain and strengthened your tired muscles.

"Help me!" You screamed to your fellow libero- to your horror, you found that she was giggling under her palm. Even she was in on it.

"Get off of me!" Your pleas were worse than ignored- they were laughed at.

Perhaps they were laughing at this position you got wrestled into, instead. You prayed none of the guys, filling up the other side of the gym, were watching.

She had half your thighs, half your hips in her arms, groin-to-groin and dragging you backwards like a tiny wheelbarrow while you used your hands to grab at smooth wooden panels. It was useless except for making a screeching, squeaky floor sound.

When you realized you were creating zero fight with your upper body, you settled on making the sound worse by simply flattening your palms and begging.

The gym filled with the noise of your hands dragging: SKREEEEEEEEEEECHHHH-!

Under it, you kept on, "Pleeeeeaaaaase! Please!"

Some teammates called to you. Versions of 'It's good for you,' 'You'll thank us later,' 'You need to put yourself out there,' all fell on deaf ears.

If this was really good for you, you'd be doing it by yourself. You just weren't ready to face him. Maybe you never would be, and you were completely fine with that. It wasn't their decision to make. Not in the slightest. Putting up so much of a fight wasn't necessarily intentional, but you hoped that it would at least make a statement.

"Shit- Somebody help me get her on my shoulder, I'm about to break my back," Your Captain grunted.

"I got it!"

"I'm comin'!"

You tried to take advantage of the quick softening of her grip, making a scurry-like attempt to crawl away, but only got grabbed by the ankles.

With three girls, and a lot of yelling, you were hoisted up onto her shoulder. She took your weight like it was nothing.

You grabbed the first person you could, which happened to be your setter, and tried to rationalize as quickly as you could:

"I would never do this to you!! I'm not ready! I can't do this- please don't make me tell him- I've never done anything--," Your clammy, clenched fingers were pried, one by one, from her jersey by three other teammates, "-wrong!! N-o!!!"

You swung forward and hit her back, eyes cast downward at the floor that was now multiple feet away. There was nothing to cling to anymore. You hung limp on your Captain's shoulder.

Your team trailed further behind so as to not get nabbed, in 'support' of the whole ordeal.

They stood a few feet away to watch when you were at your destination.

"Delivery! For Takanobu," Was sung sweet and evil, even more-so when she patted you on the butt before setting you back down.

The thought to retaliate again crossed your mind, but when she straightened back up to six feet, you felt like a deflated balloon. That was a lot of struggle already. You wouldn't even win a one-on-one.

You were spun around, given only a moment to fully realize how big Aone was up-close. You never got within 20 feet of him before. Sure, you watched their games religiously and tried to sneak in some staring in class, but since confession was never your goal, there was no strategic advantage to being anywhere near him.

'Oh my god.' Was ghosted under your breath while she introduced you.

"--And she has something to tell you."

A little nudge before she backed away.

Your big, terrified eyes trailed up his big form, but instead of collecting yourself like you intended, you found ten other guys behind him watching, muttering to each other and snickering.

This was like an intervention, or at least planned out behind your back like one. Did everybody know? Did Aone know?

"She's- hahaha- so- Ha! Teeny-tiny!" From Koganegawa, who didn't try to keep quiet like the others.

That specifically bothered you, because he was just a big, dumb freshman who couldn't even set right. Your face grew warm and you wouldn't have been able to speak, even if you wanted to.

"Could you be quiet?"

Aone's voice was a shock not only to you, but everyone. He wasn't mean with his request, though his face would indicate he was immensely upset at his junior.

Futakuchi quickly ushered away the rest of the guys' team- yours followed suit, now aware of how meddling and rude they were, disinclined to be subject to another rare and firm sentence. It felt like everyone was beginning to be normal again and you were left dazed at how many conversations they must've had during the past 12 hours of your crush being public knowledge.

You had to skip the pleasantries since they had already been completed for you.

"How much-..." You cleared your tightening throat and gathered your courage again, "How much did they tell you?"

He had such strong, masculine features. You could see the way his lips naturally curled into a permanent frown, and how his mouth tightened more into a straight line when he was thinking.

"Not... too much," Was a quiet, empathizing response.

With his hands clasped politely in front of himself, he took a lot of his intimidation factor away. Unfortunately, it didn't help why you were nervous, now.

"Can we go outside?" You threw a glance over your shoulder to the giant huddle, 20 feet away, desperately still trying to listen to your conversation, "It's a little stuffy in here."

Aone nodded immediately and walked side-by-side with you out of the gym. It was cooler, and you felt less pressure to say anything now that you were completely alone.

That meant that it was silent, for at least a few minutes. You both strolled into the grass to get away from any threat of being listened to or watched. You stood watching the sun dip lower into the evening sky, listening to the birds, appreciating the quiet to gather your thoughts.

"I've liked you for a long time." You sighed.

You weren't looking at him, so it felt easy to let it go. He turned to you, and you braced yourself for the possibility of a polite rejection.

"I can't hear you," Aone said over the small breeze.

You hung your head with a grimace- great. You had to repeat yourself.

When you turned towards him, began your admission again, he made a face so you stopped short.

That's when he crouched down- your hands flew to your mouth to stop yourself from making too big of an expression. It was silent for just a moment before you both started giggling.

Aone was really cute when he smiled, and his laugh was even cuter- unrestrained, small but boyish and crackly. You tried your best to remember it well.

"I-," You sighed, hands rubbing together in front of you, "Really like you. I've liked you since freshman year."

Your confession didn't bring as much surprise to his face as revealing how long it had been going for.

"You're a second-year, right?"

You nodded, squinting a little at his oddly-timed question.

He looked past you, thinking again. As he did, his pale face grew redder and redder. You tried to keep yourself from smiling at how obvious it was when he was blushing.

Now he was quiet, "I'm sorry. I didn't know who you were before today--,"

It didn't hurt your feelings the way he implied it might. That was the point in dodging him for so long, so you felt validated in your efforts to keep it so lowkey.

"But-," He took a second to really look at you, all of you, making you hold yourself a little straighter, "I wish I had paid more attention."

You squirmed at his words and under his firm gaze. He made it really obvious where he was looking at all times, and his thoughts made perfectly clear with as few words as he could spare. If he didn't like you back, he would've said so already.

"I- would like to take you out, if that's not too forward," He quickly looked away, the color returning tenfold across his entire face.

Aone was still looking down as he gently proposed, "I know a cafe a few blocks from here we could go to. They have great croissants."

His voice was so even and low. He spoke slowly and quietly, like he'd scare you off if he sped up or said something with too much inflection.

After your whole episode inside, you didn't blame him for thinking you were twitchy.

"That sounds amazing," You covered your mouth with the side of your hand before you could smile too wide. Every word was a little breathy, since this whole conversation left you struggling for air.

"I'm sorry I never noticed you before," He mirrored you unintentionally, a hand rubbing lightly over his warm cheek, "...You're very pretty."

Your heart was beating so hard. Too hard. Your hands were trembling violently, the vein in your neck was pumping the way it did before a match. When you looked away from the ground, it was blurry and you felt warmth running down your face.

"Oh- I didn't- I'm sorry?" He reached out a little, but realized he didn't know what to do and took it back.

"I-I'm so sorry-," Your voice was conversational, but you sniffled and blinked, and all of a sudden tears were flooding over your face.

You laughed, looking around but not identifying much more than shapes and colors, "I don't know why I'm crying-!"

Aone laughed with you, confused but glad you were okay and supposedly in the same boat as him.

"You just make me so nervous," You confessed. It sounded tad too pitiful.

The statement made him sink a little into the grass. He felt guilty for making you cry and tried to mend it by using his jacket sleeves to help wipe your tears away.

"I know I look scary, but I promise I'm not--,"

"Ohh, no," You sniffled again, face still burning at his gesture, finally drying up a little, "It's not because of that. I don't think you look scary."

Your vision was returning to you enough to watch his interest pique. He looked confused, and you had already put everything on the table, so you began to explain.

The chance was fleeting, though, because a mixed crowd of both of your teams had stormed outside, surrounding both of you in a few quick seconds.

"Hey, you big brute! Back off my libero!" Your captain was loudest among them.

Aone stood up right away, but his confusion was worse now.

"Why're you making her cry, man?" Was Futakuchi from his team. "You told me you were down!"

The girls quickly circled you and cut you off from Aone. It was a different vibe entirely than what they had done minutes earlier.

Many hands were drying the rest of your face before you could say anything, pinching, grabbing affectionately and telling you to come with them to get away from here.

The guys were pushing on Aone, specifically Futakuchi, who seemed the most upset.

"What are you doing-?" You questioned, only able to resist the pushing so much.

If there was anything you had learned from today, it was that your team was full of incredibly strong women.

There was so much chatter, so many people talking over you and a lot of conversation you couldn't quite hear from the guys.

You barely caught Aone explaining, before you pieced together what was happening.

"We're going on a date tomorrow!" You shouted.

Everybody stilled.

Your eyes met Aone's in the midst of the quiet. You called it a date.

Now it was loud with celebration- your friends shook you, leaning down to show you their giant grins and tell you how proud they were. Confessing didn't feel good, but the payoff seemed worth it now.

You called it a date? You hoped that was okay.

The shoves from the male team were friendly now instead of malicious. They tried to pick him up, all shouting and chanting, but quickly abandoned the idea when they realized they would need more -and bigger- guys for a task of that nature.

You called it a date. Was it a date?

It had to be. He called you pretty, afterall.

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

[spanktony]

Madison Beer x Fem! Reader fluff. Like a date at the park or a library?

“MY FAVORITE” - madison beer

summary: you and madison have a date in the library, according to you.

words: 1.4k

warnings: fem!reader, established!relationship, fluff, and let me know if there's more!

notes: can you tell i suck at summaries?

navigation.

stressed didn't even begin to describe how you felt at that moment. cramped in the corner of your university's library, headphones blasting baby by the love of your life, you were surrounded by a fortress of open textbooks and your laptop.

with finals looming just a month away, your days were a blur of nonstop studying, leaving little room for anything else. the only thing keeping you going was the thought of christmas break, when you'd finally get to hear your girlfriend sing her songs to you in person.

madison had been on tour for months, and you'd been buried in coursework, meaning it had been far too long since you'd last seen her. even thanksgiving had passed without her, which had been a tough blow considering how much you'd been looking forward to spending it together.

just as you were about to dive back into your notes, your phone buzzed on the table. you glanced at the screen and smiled instantly—a selfie of madison popped up, her face glowing even through the tiny display.

madz 🩷: hi pretty

madz 🩷: what r u up to?

you: studying. crying. suffering. all the above

madz 🩷: omg

madz 🩷: poor baby

madz 🩷: did you eat?

you: no, not yet at least

you: after i finish this last page i swear 💪

you: i'll be getting my fav as my own reward

madz 🩷: that's what you want? your favorite?

you: yes, and ice cream for later on

you: and a call with you if that's okay.

seen

the "seen" notification popped up, but her reply didn't come. you frowned, tilting your head at the screen. madison was always quick to respond, especially when you were stressed.

you almost called her, fingers hovering over the screen, but stopped yourself. maybe she was busy, or her schedule had pulled her away. letting out a small sigh, you unpaused your music and leaned back into the endless maze of studying.

the minutes ticked by as you buried yourself in your notes, the soft hum of music in your ears barely enough to drown out the tension building in your shoulders. your stomach grumbled faintly, reminding you that you hadn't eaten since breakfast, but you ignored it, determined to power through at least one more chapter.

the library buzzed faintly around you—whispers of students studying, the occasional rustle of papers or scrape of chairs. you were so immersed in your work that the world outside your textbook faded entirely.

until the smell hit you.

familiar, comforting, and mouthwatering, the aroma of your favorite food drifted into your space, snapping you out of your focused haze. confused, you glanced around, your eyes landing on a takeout bag and a drink set on the table just inches from your laptop.

your gaze traveled upward, and your heart skipped a beat. sitting across from you, with a sheepish, knowing smile and her disguise barely holding up, was madison.

she was dressed casually in an oversized hoodie and grey sweatpants, her signature glasses perched on her nose, her hair tucked into a baseball cap in a clear attempt to stay incognito.

"madison?" you whispered in disbelief, your voice breaking slightly.

"surprise," she said softly, her eyes sparkling as she leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "figured my baby could use a break."

you blinked, struggling to process her presence. your fingers twitched where they rested on your open textbook, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd fallen asleep and started dreaming. but the scent of your favorite food was far too real, and so was the way madison's lips curled into a soft smile as she watched your stunned expression.

"what are you doing here?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

her smile widened, and she shrugged casually, though the look in her eyes betrayed how much she'd missed you. "had some time off," she said simply. "and i couldn't just sit around knowing you were cooped up here, stressed and starving. so..."

she gestured to the bag in front of you. "thought i'd bring you a little something—and maybe force you to take a break."

you laughed softly, the tension in your shoulders easing just from the sound of her voice. "you're unbelievable," you murmured, shaking your head, but the smile on your face was impossible to hide.

"unbelievably in love with you," she corrected, her grin turning playful. "now eat. you can thank me later."

you reached for the takeout bag, the delicious aroma making your stomach grumble even louder. "you really didn't have to do this, my love," you said softly, though the gratitude in your voice was clear.

"of course, i did," she replied with another shrug, her eyes fixed on you like you were the only person in the world. "you're working too hard, and someone's gotta remind you to take care of yourself."

she watched as you pulled out the food and drink, her smile widening when you took a sip and let out a contented sigh. "perfect, right?"

you nodded, feeling your heart swell. "you're perfect."

madison's cheeks flushed faintly at your words, but she quickly ducked her head, the hat taking place of where her face once was, shielding the soft smile spreading across her lips.

before you could ask what she was doing, she circled the table, sliding into the seat right next to you. the proximity was immediate and cozy, her knee brushing yours as she settled in. she leaned back, her hand resting on the nape of your neck, her thumb tracing soothing circles, and you felt yourself relax.

she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple before pulling back to look at you.

"this is our first...date? well, uh, since august—i mean i would count this as a date but i don't know if you would? would you?" you stutter out.

madison's lips curved into a small, teasing smile as she tilted her head, her thumb still tracing lazy circles against your skin. "a date in the library? wow, you sure know how to spoil a girl."

you laughed, the sound soft and breathy, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. "i mean, it's not exactly romantic, but you're here. that's all that matters."

her gaze softened, the teasing glint in her eyes giving way to something deeper, more sincere. "hey," she said, her voice gentle, "it's perfect to me. doesn't matter where we are, as long as i'm with you."

madison leaned in again, this time her hat hitting against your forehead, causing you to lean back and rub your head with a sheepish laugh. "smooth," you teased, biting back a grin as madison quickly adjusted her hat, her cheeks flushing pink.

"okay, maybe i'm a little rusty," she admitted with a soft chuckle, her fingers brushing yours. "but i stand by what i said—this is perfect."

you shook your head fondly, leaning back into her touch as her hand returned to the nape of your neck, grounding you in a way only she could. "rusty or not, you're still my favorite person," you murmured.

her eyes softened, and the faintest smile tugged at her lips. "and you're mine," she replied, her voice so quiet it felt like a secret meant just for you.

for a moment, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, her presence washing over you like a balm for your frayed nerves. the stress of finals, the weight of your endless to-do list—it all seemed to fade into the background with her next to you.

she nudged the takeout bag gently toward you, her tone playful again. "now, eat before i have to feed you myself. and trust me, i will make a scene in this library."

you snorted, shaking your head as you unwrapped your food. "okay, okay. i'll eat!”

madison grinned, her hand sliding from your neck to rest on your shoulder, her fingers giving a light squeeze. "good choice," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "and after you finish, we're taking a real break. no arguing."

you glanced sideways at her, "you drive a hard bargain, beer," you teased lightly.

she smirked, leaning in just enough to whisper, "that's because i love you, and i'm not letting you burn yourself out."

[icarustypicalfall]

There you are

MASTERLIST

summary: period comfort, no further explanation

warnings: SFW fem! reader, periods, tiny headcanons\fic sorry

note: not proofread, I'll edit it later

Also I'll post another fic about rudy in the day, i am just emptying my head or I'll explode.

“Like fire weeping from a cedar tree, know that my love would burn with me We'll live eternally”

This man is just too sweet :(

Rudy is usually just too sweet, he never stops offering affection, his gentle touch and tiny kisses are enough to cease your worries and sorrow.

He always keeps a snack and water in his nightstand in case you woke up at night.

When you wanted to come over, he was more than excited. He wanted to pamper you and take care of you.

His strongest trait is how observant and thoughtful he can be.

Rudy loved you deerly, he wished to give you the Ultimest love and unlimited comfort.

He offered to go shopping "to restock his apartment"

Secretly wanting to know what brands you used/prefered so he gets some for you, "just in case" :(

He ended getting more than just one packet of tampons.

Rudy got a whole section of sanitary/hygiene products and put them in a special drawer in his bathroom.

He even got your prefered soap and conditioner. Along a vanilla scented candle and a plushie :(

You thought he'll change after some time?

Ha

Jokes on you

Turns out he planned to be the sweetest man till his last breath :((

Today, because it had to be today :(

He figured out something was wrong when you woke up earlier than you usually do.

You were restless, fidgeting and roaming around.

He realized you were on your period when you kept holding your stomach and complain about back pain and headaches.

Your burning cheeks as you nodded, saying you were okay were the key.

Why were you embarrassed of telling him?

He didn't understand this embarrassment, you had nothing to feel shame about.

Rudy made sure to check the calendar and marked it down.

He did even keep a tracker on his phone for this time of month. Why wouldn't he?

He uttered, eyeing your tired form

"you alright, mi Cielo?"

He sighed when you nodded with an embarrassed yes.

You were lying

You were in fact, facing the ultimate- greatest - throeful - most painful period cramp of your entire existence.

You shed a tear while keeping the huge grin from ear to ear

Ha

You thought that'll fool him?

Nuh uh

He told you to go lay while he prepared something

Rudy preppared you a cup of warm tea, smiling as he handed you the cup

You sipped the hot drink, grateful for his kindness

He whispered, sitting beside you on the coach.

"There is no need to be embarrassed...I get it...you are not feeling well, and thats understandable, I just want you to be comfortable."

He smiled, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

When you finally told him, he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

"Thats alright, I figured you had it...just wanted to be here for you, mija"

You thought he'll be annoyed because of your mood swings or cravings?

Ha

Fool

"You are not whiny nor too sensative. You are just a human being...there is nothing to be guilty of, cariña.

"We can take the day off and rest at home with some pizza and icecream..."

He was startled when you started to tear up.

"Mi amor if you don't want pizza we can make something else!"

He nodded when you explained through tears you were just a tid more emotional, and he was just too sweet:(

Rudy kissed your tears, his lips brushing over your eye lids and cheeks :(

He smiled, uttering.

"I love you...you deserve the world, amor, you hear me?"

He said in a soft tender tone, letting his eyes roam on your tired face.

"we will have a nice day and you must rest as much as you want. I got you, amor..."

He ended by making the best pizzas. He gave you medicine, a warm bottle to put on your tummy and the best back masage of your existence :(

Rudy was unlike any men you ever met, he was just, him.

He treated you like the most precious gem.

He loved you deerly.

In fact, he wished for nothing more than holding you in nights like these, where you bury your head in his neck and he tells you fairytale in Spanish till you fall asleep.

He adored you

this could be me but instead i have an exam and dump finals to take care of. help

[kathang-iniisip]

˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ exhibitionism w/ aiah! <3

g!p reader, dubcon (?)

[LRT 1 edition lmao] okay for context I scrolled down to the bottom of Aiah's ig and now i'm a lil dizzy she's so pretty my first bini bias 🥰 also see her aura and vibe is just very classy but! with that being said imagine being on a cramped train with her 🥺

LRT 1 is a very cramped train especially during the rush hour, you don't even need to hold on to the handrails for safety because everyone's so pressed up against each other that no one can really move even if the train lurches forward when it goes :/

now imagine: you're standing at the very back of the train car, this beautiful stranger standing so so close and giving you a shy and apologetic smile every time she bumps into you. you'd smile back ofc, you're not a monster... except you kinda are.

It's a long train ride, and it looks like her stop is far. No moves to reach the nearest pair of doors and it's her fault really. She smells so good, her perfume teasing at your nose. Shiny eyes staring into yours intently every time she turns to apologize for almost falling and crashing into you. It doesn't matter if her poor balance is an innate thing or because of her ridiculous heels (who wears heels on the train at rush hour?) all you care about is how every time you two touch and you see her pretty face you lose a little more of what self control and decency you have.

Look. It's a cramped train and everyone's minding their business, too engrossed in their phones to even notice that every time you help the woman in front of you regain her balance, your hand drifts lower from her arms, her back, her waist, and finally her hips. God, she's hot. Built like a goddamn goddess and the innocent doe eyes are really doing you in. What would it look like if she was holding in her moans as you groped her right here, right now?

Another stop, another bump.

"goddamn rush hour" you mutter loud enough for her to hear. the agreeing giggle has you clenching your fists in an attempt to stave off thoughts that weren't for 7:00 in the morning.

Another stop, another bump. This time your hand stays on her hips. She doesn't seem to mind or brush you off even if you feel her stiffening up a little.

"Is your stop near, Aiah?" you ask. Looking at her ID to see her name. "no, not yet. you?" she replies in a low voice. you shake your head no. The train stops again and more people shuffle to get off. The brief period of relief and space vanishes once again as a new set of passengers rush in and take their places, somehow squeezing you two closer together. It's not your fault your arms are pinned on her sides. Would it be more awkward to leave your hands hanging or to actually hold on to her? Well, she didn't say anything as your hands took their places on their hips, albeit lower and closer to the curve of her ass than it was before.

It was an accident, you'd swear up and down if she asked. The first time, that is. The train suddenly halted to a stop and you had accidentally thrusted into her, your boner just about slotting into place between her cheeks. The surprised gasp and the little jump didn't escape your notice.

"sorry." you whisper. you see her nod her head, her eyes looking straight ahead. somehow more people manage to squeeze themselves in. The train lurches forward and she can't help but lean against you, her back flat against your front, your hips slotting together perfectly. So perfect you couldn't help but grind a little into her. The tiny whimper she let out broke your resolve.

It was so easy to do it in plain sight. The bumpy ride serving as the perfect cover for you to hump her to your heart's content. Your head's on her shoulder, mouth panting directly into her ear. Her eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed like she can't believe it's happening. But it is happening. Your hands creeping underneath her tight skirt and gripping her sensitive inner thighs. It's warm inside, making it hard to tell if she's wet or if it's because she's hot. The train's ac couldn't cool anyone down with how many people were inside, all of whom unaware of what was happening at the back of the train car.

"sorry, sorry, sorry," you kept muttering, rubbing yourself against her ass; one hand slipping inside her panties and the other ghosting over her unattended breasts. Her cardigan was perfect, covering for you as you tugged the hem of her skirt up, pulled out your dick, and slipped it inside her panties. she was so wet; lips puffy and sensitive, clenching everytime the tip caught on to her slit. it was a delightful surprise to feel her hand reaching behind her to grip your leaking cock and pushing it inside her folds.

you could go on like this forever, spurting and smearing precum all over the pussy of such a beautiful woman. "I'm five stops away". Or not.

"please cum inside" she bites her lip. "I can't go to class like this."

"of course." you say, sympathetic and finally slipping inside. The relief of it all made her sag against you, and you could feel her thighs trembling with the effort to keep standing. "i got you." you pounded away, finishing just as her stop was announced. A number of people got off with her and you have the pleasure of finally getting a seat and watching her exit the train with a trail of white making its way down inside her thighs, her head bowed low in shame and disbelief.'

[aylacavebear]

The Curse That Changed Your Life - Part 2 Chapter 6

With the witch taken care of, your hopes of being human gone, and dealing with sensations and emotions you hadn't before, life didn't seem like it was going to get much better. How would he look at you in the morning after what you'd said to him? What would you do after this? What would the next month hold, and how much like a cat were you? There were far too many questions you didn't have answers to and didn't want to ask. Would you find any answers in the month to come? Only time would tell.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 4774

Warnings: Charlie being a good friend, Dealing with cycle, reader being hard on herself, Fluff, Dean being a Sweetheart. Not really much for this one.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 6

Over the next couple of days, Charlie visited you often, bringing you meals which mostly consisted of red meat or chicken. She did include some of that healthy stuff that you didn’t like very much but ate it anyway. At least she would let you have some sweets, although not much. Charlie also made sure to bring you meds to keep the pain at a dull roar with the help of the heating pad. Eileen didn’t visit often, knowing that there was a possibility that you might smell Sam on her, so she kept her distance.

On day three, you got a text from Dean, which surprised you, but it made you smile a tiny bit. 

“Hey Sweetheart, feeling any better?”

“Still crampy, and the pills Charlie gives me make me sleepy. I’m craving bacon right now, but Charlie says it’s not a meal.”

“I’ll cook some up for you, make her take it to you.”

You had to chuckle at that, and you couldn’t help the smile his words brought. At least he was talking to you, even if it was through texts.

“You made my mouth water. Let me know if she caves. I’m really hungry now.”

“I will. She’ll cave, promise.”

You pictured him smirking, sitting in the library or kitchen, leaning his arms on the table as he texted you. The heating pad on your abdomen clicked off, as it tended to do after a couple of hours or if it got to the temperature. Sighing, you flipped it over and turned it back on, glancing down at your phone.

Why does it hurt when I talk to him, or think about him? 

It was a question you’d been wondering about for longer than your cycle, and the fog of the first day hadn’t helped. The meds weren’t helping either. 

“Can we talk, after  you cook?”

You sent the text before you could decide against it.

“Sure.”

For a minute, you just stared at his response, then turned your phone off, forgetting what you’d asked about the bacon. At the moment, your thoughts were of Dean and how things had gone between the two of you over the last couple of months since that night at the club. It had been a rollercoaster for sure, and you weren’t surprised you felt depressed. The downside of thinking about it all, the cramps only got worse. You hated how they were tied to your emotional state since the curse. 

Within about thirty minutes, there was a very annoyed-looking Charlie standing in your doorway with a plate full of bacon, probably an entire package worth. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you couldn’t help but chuckle, almost laugh at her expression.

“I am not happy about this. Bacon is not a meal,” she told you, fairly annoyed as she sat down on the bed next to you, holding the plate out of your reach.

“Come on, I was craving it,” you begged, attempting to reach for the plate, even though you knew with how your cramps were, there was no way you’d get it. You were just hoping that, looking as pitiful as you did, she’d just give in.

Charlie rolled her eyes before handing over the plate, groaning, “You’re lucky I find you cute when you pout, and that you’re family.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” you replied with a mouthful of bacon, purring again at the way it made every tastebud melt into bliss.

“You’re welcome,” she half whined, half smiled, seeing how happy you were, even if it was due to the bacon. 

Dean was indeed a fantastic cook. You’d told him that before, but there was something different with the food during this cycle, and you weren’t quite able to put your finger on what. Charlie couldn’t sit there and watch you eat nothing but bacon, so she went back out, to where you weren’t sure. 

Halfway through the plate, you picked up your phone after licking your fingers clean and sent a thank-you text to Dean. You’d finally managed to find a mostly comfortable position, half laying on your side and half propped up on the several pillows that were on the bed. With your phone on the bed next to your plate, and the heating pad on your abdomen, you began relaxing.

“Glad you enjoyed it. Charlie put up a good argument, but, I won.”

You giggled, picturing that winning smirk on him as he typed that. “You made my night.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

For a moment, you just stared at his question, wondering if it was even worth bringing up during your cycle. 

“I wish we could talk face to face.”

“I’d suggest a video call, but Charlie said this is the only way I’m allowed to talk to you.”

A pout found its way to your lips, and you quickly made it go away with another bite of bacon. “Should I still keep my distance, after my cycle?” It was the best way to ask what had been running through your mind, but you weren’t prepared for his answer.

“Things will be different after your cycle. You’ll see. I’m not supposed to tell you anything, though. Charlie swore me to secrecy.”

“Not fair…” you grumbled out loud, pouting again. Stupid hormones.

“Fine. I guess I’ll just have to wait, then. I’m bored, though, and I don’t want to watch another movie or sleep. I know Charlie is gonna bring me more meds soon, and I’m gonna fall asleep. I hate sleeping so much.”

“You need the sleep. I’m glad the meds are helping. It just means you’ll feel better after your cycle is over.”

Too bad there's no inflection on tone in text. I wonder why I’m not allowed to see him.

“Fine. I hate being treated like a five-year-old, or like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Everyone cares about you. You’re family now. Let us take care of you. We wouldn’t do it if we didn’t care.”

You grumbled a little at that and tried really hard not to let it bother you, but in a way, it did. It was all hormone issues, though. If it had been any other time, you would have understood what he meant.

“Thanks again for the bacon. I guess we can always chat again sometime.”

“Get some rest, Sweetheart.”

After that last text from him, you turned your phone off and then went back to the bacon, which was nearly gone now. The cramps were getting stronger again, making you shift positions, as that one was no longer comfortable. But now, nothing was comfortable. There were four slices left on the plate, but you couldn’t eat with how the cramps were getting, so you pushed it to the far side of the bed. Just when you were about to lay down all the way to curl into a ball, Charlie showed up, meds in hand, with more water. You quickly took the pills, squirming slightly in pain as you tried to lie down on your side. Charlie knew there was nothing she could do to help, so she just tucked the blankets around you.

You whimpered as the cramps sent waves of sharp pains from your abdomen up and down your body, feeling as though they hit every nerve and muscle along the way. Tears slipped from your eyes of their own accord as your body shook a little. 

For some reason, the meds began working faster than you thought they should, but that was when you realized Cas was in your room, his first two fingers on your forehead, and a light warmth spread through your body. Then, everything went dark.

—--------------

When you woke up, you had no idea what time it was or what day it was, but you did notice the cramps were gone, and your brain didn’t feel so foggy. The heating pad was on the opposite side of the bed, and you were under the blankets. Turning toward the nightstand, you found your phone.

I slept for two days?

You set your phone back down and turned on the light, groaning as you sat up. Your entire body was sore, and you desperately wanted a shower. Grabbing the set of clothes off the desk, you forced your body to the bathroom. It wasn’t nearly as bad or as sore as last time, but every muscle still hurt. 

The shower helped, but you didn’t want to crawl back into that bed. As you made your way back over to the bed, you grabbed your phone, choosing to sit on the side of the bed that had been left entirely untouched. Then, texted Charlie. Although, you were surprised that she hadn’t shown up at your room yet.

“I’m up and showered, but I don’t want to walk to my room alone.”

It was after ten, so you figured she and the others were or at least had to be awake. Just as you were about to wonder if they were even home, your phone went off.

“Be right there.”

You smiled a little and turned your phone off, trying to remember everything that had happened over the last almost week. Charlie had said so much to you, but half of it was still lost in the fog that was now gone. Your cycle was the one main thing you hated the most since the curse. 

“Hey. Feeling better?” Charlie asked, popping into the room.

“Mostly. I don’t remember a whole lot, though,” you answered, looking up at her.

“Well, you look better at least. I kept you mostly drugged for the pain, but Cas had to put you to sleep two days ago. The meds stopped working,” she explained, sitting next to you.

The day I talked to Dean…

“I’m blaming it on eating bacon as a meal with nothing else with it. Nothing else was different that I can think of,” she added.

“I, uh, I talked to Dean, through text. I hadn’t done that before then,” you told her, quietly, almost feeling guilty for it.

“That explains a lot. Okay,” she said as if all the pieces clicked into place for her, but you were still mostly clueless. “I’ll walk with you back to your room if you want. Then me and Eileen will take care of the stuff in here.”

“I kinda was hoping to move around a little more. I feel sore, mostly from being in bed for as long as I was,” you explained, but also felt almost anxious about being around all of them again.

“We can do that,” she told you with that sunshine smile she always seemed to have. Then she sent a quick text to someone before standing up, waiting for you.

You gave her a small smile, getting yourself up. The walk out to the library was rough and slow going, but Charlie never left your side. She even let you lean on her a few times when the wall wasn’t enough. You missed being able to pace and wander when you had your cycles, but here, that was a little impossible. 

By the time you reached the war room, your muscles didn’t feel nearly as sore, and they didn’t hurt as much as they had been. There was an aroma in the air, and it smelled delicious. Charlie couldn’t hide the smile as you made it into the library.

The other four were standing there, looking happy and nervous, but at least you didn’t feel alone in that regard. “We talked, a lot over the last few days. You’re family, and we want you to feel that way,” Charlie told you, giving you a hug.

“Thanks, this means a lot to me,” you whispered to her, returning the hug.

One by one, they each came over to you and hugged you. Sam and Eileen said you were like a little sister to them, which you found endearing. When Cas hugged you, he said he loved how much like a cat you were, but also that he liked your personality. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at that one.

Dean waited till last, and he looked the most nervous as he approached you. The others slowly moved into the library, leaving the two of you in the archway. He gently wrapped his arms around you and held you close. 

“I’m sorry, for being so stupid before. If- if you can forgive me, I’d still like to go out with you,” he whispered as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

What the hell happened during my cycle?

You wanted to instantly just say yes, but you also wanted more information. Something clearly happened that you weren’t aware of. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you thought about what he said.

Fuck it. Why not. What could possibly go wrong by going out with him?

“We can at least try it and see how it goes,” you replied quietly, feeling somewhat unsure of how different things felt. 

Dean gave you a gentle squeeze before setting his hand on your lower back and leading you over to one of the library tables. They all looked like they were in a good mood, at least, and you realized that the sweet smell was a candle on the table. As you sat down, he sat next to you. Everything felt so… odd.

“Since you’re up and moving around, I’m guessing the fog is gone,” Charlie began, to which you nodded, so she continued. “I did some research on cats. Cas also took a peak at your anatomy to help out with things. You’re a lot more cat-like on the inside than even you probably know.”

You weren’t quite sure what to think. On the one hand, you were appreciative, but on the other, you wondered what the details were. “Could I possibly have some coffee? This is, a lot,” you asked, keeping your emotions in check as best you could. At least your hormones were finally leveling back out.

Dean reached over and gently began rubbing your back while Cas went to the kitchen. Something about the contact from Dean was comforting, on more than just that regular human level. Cas returned, setting a cup of hot, steaming coffee in front of you before returning to his seat.

As you sipped it, Charlie continued, “So, there are all sorts of scientific mumbo jumbo terms that you probably wouldn’t understand at the moment. I’ll try to keep it simple without dredging up too much. Depression in cats causes all sorts of problems. We all know how sad you got when we found out we couldn’t break the curse. Add how you felt about, well, all of us, in different ways, and you had almost all the symptoms cats get when they’re depressed.”

You tilted your head a bit, fairly curious at this point. It was something you hadn’t ever considered might affect you. You also weren’t aware that animals went through those sorts of things, never having pets growing up or as an adult. 

“Cats tend to pick their families. You chose us. I know that sounds weird with how things happened, but it’s just how the cat part of you is wired. Since we didn’t know how cat-like you really are, we didn’t know the little things you needed from us,” Charlie explained, seeing your mild confusion and curiosity.

The longer Charlie spoke, things were somewhat making sense. You had done a lot of research on cats but had ignored a lot as well. Dean kept rubbing your back gently, and you found yourself relaxing as your tail began swaying lazily to your side. 

Sam cleared his throat, causing you to look over at him, “We want to include you in things, if you want to stay here. None of us want to see you go back to doing something you don’t want to. So, if you’re up for it, we want to teach you about hunting.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised.

“Yup. And I’ll teach you some hand-to-hand stuff,” Dean added with a smirk you knew meant he was looking forward to it.

You couldn’t help the small smile that played along your lips. Family wasn’t something you’d had in a long time. “Now for the part you might feel weird about,” Charlie pipped in, pulling your attention to her. “Your cycles. I did drug you. It was mostly to let you sleep through this cycle while I figured other stuff out. When you told me that you had only texted with Dean, all the pieces made sense. This might sound weird, but, well, he’s your human.”

Your face went blank as you stared at her. It was something you’d read about: cats choosing their person. A light blush also found its way to your cheeks. It did explain a lot as to why Dean staying away from you had bothered you so much. Part of you also felt bad for it. 

Looking away from Charlie and down at your cup as your ears drooped a little, you mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Dean wasted no time, pulling you closer to him and nuzzling his cheek just behind your ear, “Would you stop apologizing already,” he told you, somewhat playfully.

The contact surprised you, but it also comforted you in a way you hadn’t felt before. Relief washed through you as you let your body lean into his.

“As long as Dean doesn’t do something stupid,” Charlie continued, giving Dean a warning glare, “you’ll be okay. You also need to be eating more red meat and chicken or some other sort of bird. It’s a high-protein diet. I would add fish, too, if you aren’t allergic to it. Your system was out of whack. That was also making your cycles harder. You and Dean have at least three weeks to figure things out. On your next cycle, it’ll just be the two of you here in the bunker.”

That one made your blush so deep, you swore you were the color of a tomato. When Dean chuckled, you felt it rumble from deep in his chest. “I promise, I won’t hurt you, not on purpose,” he whispered, and you could hear the soft smile in his words.

“Thanks, just nervous, I guess,” you mumbled.

“With all that out of the way,” Charlied piped in again, causing you to pull away from Dean so you could see her better. “Your cat side needs more physical contact. You’ve starved it since the curse happened, and that’s another reason your cycles were so bad, your emotions were all over the place, and your hormone levels are, or at least were, way off. Cas also healed you, but you have to keep up on things.” 

Sometimes you just loved listening to her talk with how expressive she was. It was like when she talked, she put everything into it. What she said made sense. You had pushed a lot away since the curse, and being around them had brought a lot out that you weren’t prepared for. You’d dealt with the curse and, recently, the fact that it couldn’t be broken. Now, it was time to deal with all of what you were. Which was apparently far more cat-like than you ever considered.

Dean kept contact with you; right now, it was his hand on your lower back, rubbing gentle circles against your shirt with his thumb. Charlie’s words helped put other pieces into place. Cas had healed you, completely. That was why things felt different. Your body chemistry was finally like it was supposed to be, which it never had been before.

“We typically aren’t physically affectionate people,” Sam added with a softness you weren’t used to, “but we can work on that. If you need a hug, don’t feel like you need to ask. That’s all I’m saying. Just keep all that other stuff to you and Dean.”

The last part made you giggle a little, something you hadn’t done in what felt like far too long. “Thanks. I can’t say that enough, to all of you,” it was really all you could say. “Come on, I’ll get you something to eat,” Dean told you, kissing the top of your head before he headed in that direction.

You hadn’t even thought about food, not with everything Charlie had been talking about, even if she had brought up meat, and bacon. Curiously, you grabbed your cup and followed Dean while the others did their best not to snicker as you walked away. Your ears and tail twitched with a curiosity that you hadn’t felt before, not like this anyway. Sure, you got curious in the past, but this felt different; everything did. 

Dean was already standing at the stove, heating a pan. You filled your cup again before hoisting yourself up on the island to watch him. Yes, you enjoyed sitting on surfaces that weren’t technically meant for sitting. Although, you weren’t sure if that was a cat thing or just a weird human thing. You did make sure to keep your tail on the left side of your body since Dean was also using part of the island for cooking items.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just watched him cook, gently swaying your feet. The food did smell amazing, and just when he turned to look at you, you were licking your lips.

“Smell good?” he asked with an amused smirk.

“Let’s just say I didn’t realize I was hungry till I smelled it,” you replied, smiling happily. “Yes, it does smell good,” you decided to add, not wanting him to feel as though you didn’t want to actually answer him. 

“You know, you really are adorable,” he chuckled, shaking his head slightly in amusement as he went back to cooking. 

Your ears twitched with your tail, giving away just how good you were feeling and how good his words made you feel. It wasn’t like you could hide that sort of thing. “And you’re sweet,” you told him, and you were fairly surprised at how easily it was to feel as relaxed as you were. “Be right back,” you quickly stated, then hopped off the island.

Heading back to the library, you found Cas and hugged him, even though he was sitting down. “I can’t thank you enough, Cas. I don’t think I ever felt this good after I got cursed.” Then, you went over and hugged Charlie, now purring. “You too. Thank you, Charlie, for caring like you did, and do.”

Charlie actually blushed, but she returned the hug. Cas was still somewhat confused but smiling nonetheless. Feeling better now that you had thanked them again, you went back into the kitchen. You somehow just knew that it was those two who had done most of the work. You slid onto one of the seats at the table, just watching Dean again. You rested your head in your palms as your elbows were on the table. 

Dean plated the steak, eggs, and toast and brought it over to you, sitting down across from you. “Hope you’re hungry,” he smirked.

Licking your lips at the meal before you, “Starving.”

He chuckled at your response but sat there while you ate. You hadn’t ever looked this happy, relaxed, and playful since you’d moved in. He didn’t want to hope, but seeing you now, that hope grew within him. Charlie had given him quite the earful the day before your cycle started, and she was far harder on him than he’d ever been on himself. You were more than a person, you were also a lot like a cat. She had explained that a relationship with a person is different. Break-ups can be healed, and people can move on. When it comes to animals, though, the moving on part doesn’t always happen, and that some animals can die from depression. Dean realized quickly, thanks to Charlie, that not being with you would be far more harmful than if he chose to be, and that was just with the living situation. 

He was lost in his thoughts, watching you and figuring out just what came next for the two of you. Dean had already gone through the range of things in his thoughts. Everything from slow and gentle to fucking the brat out of you, and he was still struggling with how to even pursue a first real kiss with you at the moment.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” you asked, mouthful of a bite of steak and egg, without looking up at him.

“What makes you think I’m thinking about anything?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, fairly curious at this point.

“Your scent changes,” you replied, then swallowed the bite in your mouth, looking up at him.

Dean blushed, but attempted to smirk and recover, “Good change or bad change?” 

“Depends. What were you thinking about?” you replied, this time tilting your head, just a bit, curiously.

“Kissing you,” he answered, his smirk turning to more of a smile.

“Then it would be a good change, and now I know,” you giggled, going back to your meal.

His entire expression went to utter confusion for a moment due to your response. You didn’t say anything about him wanting to kiss you, just that the scent he gave off was good. He made a mental note to ask Charlie about that later since she’d become somewhat of an expert.

You were able to think back on other times he had that scent, and it definitely made sense. Now, at least, you knew what the change meant. It was hard to focus, though. Between the delicious meal he’d made you and the scent coming off of him, your mind was thinking about all sorts of things.

I wonder if that scent gets stronger if he thinks more intimate thoughts?

It was more curiosity than anything at this point. Popping the last bite of steak in your mouth, you purred, smiling happily. 

“I love it when you do that,” Dean chuckled, taking your plate to the sink and beginning to clean up.

That wouldn’t do for you, though, so quickly got to your feet, and got between him and the sink before he could make it there. You looked up at him, wishing you could truly express what you felt, but couldn’t find the words.

“You cooked. I can clean up,” you told him sincerely. It was the only thing you could think of, other than how close the two of you were, again.

Dean leaned a little closer, sliding the plate into the sink behind you, then set his hands on your hips, “You’re quicker than you look.”

“That? That was nothing,” you replied, but the moment you looked into his eyes, your lips parted, and your mind went blank. You’d wanted to say something else, but for the life of you, whatever it was, it was gone with how he was looking at you.

He licked his lips, and your eyes caught the movement, now watching his tongue slide between his lips before it disappeared behind them again. Slowly, you looked back up into those beautiful green eyes of his, and you could have sworn they were a shade darker. 

Your entire body went through anticipation of what he’d do next, of the what if he kissed you.

Does he even know what he does to me when he looks at me like that? Yeah, probably. 

The moment you opened your mouth to say something else, he leaned down and placed those wonderful, plump, soft pink lips of his against yours. He reached one of his hands up, gently holding your cheek. It almost felt like a dream, but your body made it clear that it was anything but. 

It was slow and intimate, and you had no control over the purring it brought on. You felt Dean smirk against your lips as he deepened the kiss, ever so slightly. Those sweet butterfly kisses you had dreamed about. Everything but the two of you was nonexistent the moment he slipped his tongue between your lips, which you let him, inhaling deeply and pressing your body closer to his. 

If it wasn’t for Cas just showing up in the kitchen, you weren’t sure how long that kiss would have lasted.

“Damnit, Cas, we talked about this,” Dean growled, annoyed, making you giggle as you calmed your breathing.

“Sorry, Dean, but we have a problem. Let me take her to her room,” Cas said in a way that made your heart pound harder against your chest.

----------------------------------------- A/N: Part 3 is on hold for now while I try to finish Soulmates. I hope I can get back to this one and get part 3 written and up for you guys.

Series Master List Part 1 Master List Part 2 Master List Past 3 Master List (On Hold) Main Master List

A/N: As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know in a comment. And if I missed your request to be tagged, please let me know. I know not everyone is interested in everything an author writes, so don't mind doing different tag lists for each piece of writing. I just get a lot of requests sometimes.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @zaratahir @jc-winchester @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never

@nancymcl @deans-spinster-witch @kindollss @flamencodiva @reignsboy19

@stillhere197 @kr804573 @hobby27 @megs-gadom

[drchenquill]

Character profile tag!

Thank you for the tag @the-golden-comet , @sableglass , @finickyfelix and @paeliae-occasionally ! I'm sorry it took me so long, I just couldn't decide who to take for this game. I'll just go with my baby boy Leon.

Name: Leon Martens

Nickname: "Waschlappen" by his late grandma. (It's German and it means sissy, wimp and so on.) It's an insult, but she used it as nickname, often refering to him like that while talking to other people, making it sound like a cute "family inside joke".

Kind of being: Human

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Appearance: fluffy honey-blonde hair with dark drown eyes. Very pale, almost sickly looking skin. He mostly wears cardigans to feel comfortable. His calloused hands look frail like everything on him to be honest. He is rather thin and weak looking. He is a frail man.

Occupation: Art teacher

Family members: None (all deceased. It wasn't a big family)

Pets: None

Best friends: he would say none, but Kiki has taken that spot very fast.

Describe his/her room: So, a bit of context. He moved into a shabby apartment but mid story was forced to move again into a not-as-shabby apartment. I'll describe his old room because his current room isn't his, it's Kilians.

Quoting him: "My bedroom has a large window that looks out onto the street. Normally I would draw the curtains, which didn't happen this time. That's why I can see the first shy rays of sunlight creeping into the day. The apartment I'm currently renting consists of five rooms. The bedroom with a double bed that takes up far too much space, thanks in part to the wardrobe that will collapse on me with just a small earthquake and free me, a bathroom that barely has room for a bathtub, a living room furnished with a beige couch that I doubt was the original color, a small TV that I'm afraid to turn on and, last but not least, the small kitchen where I recently tried to make a coffee with shaky hands and the flame of the stove almost burned my face."

Way of speaking: Polite, tries to never raise his voice.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): He avoids eye contact and often walks with his head down. When he's stressed, his right hand tends to cramp, so you may see him subtly massaging it. He also tends to have twitching hands when he feels the need to draw something to calm down. He is developing a hunchback by always walking with a hunched posture to subconsciously make himself smaller.

Items in his/her back pocket/ purse: A small pocketsized sketchbook with a tiny pencil (he draws to calm himself down.) And his phone and wallet.

Hobbies: Drawing.

Favorite sports: None.

Abilities/Talents/Powers: Drawing

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): He tries not to interact with other people, but when he does, he tends to not hold eye contact for too long. He is rather submissive, not wanting to anger anyone.

Fears: Being looked at, making mistakes, angering other people, people thinking he is insane.

Fault: He is very paranoid and does not trust at all. He always thinks the worst and often doesn't give the other person a chance to explain. He can be very petty.

Good points: He is very gentle with children. He loves children because he feels safe around them.

What he/she wants more than anything else: To be left alone and to get rid of the crushing guilt he feels after surviving the car accident that killed his parents.

~~~

Tagging with no pressure @theink-stainedfolk , @inseasofgreen , @katenewmanwrites , @kaeru483 , @happypup-kitcat24 and open tag~

[halaboyz]

DOGS & EXES — J. CHANGMIN

CHAPTER 20 ! # ... sucked it up !?

wc: 1.5k; warnings: none that i know of? lmk if there is!; not proofread

Your mood sours evidently from the two's eyes as you held your phone tightly, heaving deep breaths you didn't even realize. They share a look before peeking at your phone and rubbing your back, cutting your trance short.

"Sorry, we were doing?" You tried tucking your phone in the crevice of your sofa, smiling at them. They only squint their eyes before taking the phone from you and making you hold it once again, patting you.

"I know this is our moment, but," Jurin sighs, "This is your chance. You might've not said it out loud, but you know yourself this is what you've been wanting to hear from him all along. Not the apologies he carelessly spat around not knowing what he's apologizing for, but now, a genuine one." Jurin snakes his arms around your shoulder and leans on your shoulder.

"She's right, of course, it's what you've always deserved to hear, especially from him. But regardless, this is still your choice to make. Whether you want to face him or not, hear what he wants to say or not, this is your choice. No one is going to blame you with what you choose. Okay?" Hinata smiles at you and takes the other side, patting your knee.

You feel Jurin nod on your shoulder, making you smile sweetly from their support. You take in the atmosphere for a few more seconds before breaking your silence with a single clap, getting their attention.

You chuckle, "Don't you think we're too cramped on my tiny sofa?" Both of them realized how the three of you literally stuck like sardines in a can on your sofa before giggling it away, not minding their positions as they go back into hugging you.

They were your real life saviors from then on, huh?

You assure them by the night that you were going to be okay agreeing to meet Changmin and alone after your afternoon classes the day after, and that you were sure about your decision.

Because just like what Jurin said, it had always been what you wanted to hear from Changmin all along. The genuine apology, wherein he knew what he did wrong.

So why were you trembling so bad and frozen on your place as you hold on your bag strap for life before you walk to your designated meeting place, all hesitant and anxious to see a familiar head amidst the crowd?

The head that sticks out everywhere a little higher than everybody's, a shaking of the head too distinct to know it was him arranging his hair to cover his forehead a little more, making its way closer to you.

He grew his hair a little longer that it stopped below his eyes, covering it slightly that you could still his eyes behind a few strands. It bore through you completely, you had to look away multiple times as it burned you. You were wronged, yet you didn't like how his apologetic eyes settled on you. You weren't used to it— you can't and never will.

He had always given you the look of love, even after you broke up and had to meet up for Ghana. It held the same amount of love and fondness, yet now, it was nowhere to be seen. Just pure pathetic eyes staring at you.

Because Changmin doesn't dare. How dare he look at you like how he did when you were together after what he did? How dare he treat you the same after what he did? How dare he even look your way? How dare he?

"I'll... keep this short," He sighs, sensing your discomfort with his stare so he looks down to your hand, reaching for it and handing you Ghana's leash and a bag of Ghana's things. This is when he realized you have only then noticed Ghana, a small smile playing on your lips as your eyes landed on the dog that once knew the both of you as owners. Ghana held his paws out for you, scratching your leg lightly.

You were confused, but you don't say anything. Maybe Changmin remembered it was your scheduled parenting for Ghana.

"...Y/n. I was wrong." He started, and you both can't meet each other's eyes. "I was immature. I thought so shortly that time, and I understand why you left. At first, I was confused. We dated for years, how come she breaks up with me after I failed to answer her texts and calls? I thought to myself,"

He helplessly scoffs at himself, and the next thing you know, you saw tears drop from his eyes to the ground.

"And I feel so so terrible for even thinking of that, y/n, and I'm just so so sorry. I'm sorry for not being able to, I'm sorry for pushing you away, I'm sorry for shutting you out, I'm sorry for choosing a goddamn party over you, I... I'm sorry, y/n." He sighs out, breaking down into tears as he struggled to keep himself standing.

He looked like a kid who got in trouble, head hanging low as he messily wiped his tears away. How dare he even cry in front of you?

You stayed quiet, letting him say all that he's got to say even though you've got his point, and you've got what you wanted to hear, and somehow, in one corner of your mind, have already forgiven him.

"Y/n, I'm sorry you had to go through that all alone. I'm sorry that I didn't realize that I left you first before you did. I'm sorry that I didn't know, I'm sorry that I wasn't there. I'm even sorry that I only got to apologize now, y/n." He holds onto his knees for dear life, sobbing it away. This wasn't even a quarter of the pain you felt, he thought.

And that thought makes him even more angry at himself. He clutches his chest tight, trying to stop the sobs from coming out but he fails. He feels Ghana lie down beside his foot and whimpers with him, bringing him back to reality after a few minutes.

He thinks you didn't have to hear all that, and you didn't have to stay through that, so he gathers all his energy again and straightens his back, sniffing heavily.

"I... put Ghana's food and necessities, some clothes there in the bag." He gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding at the bag he gave you. Haknyeon told me you always asked about Ghana." Your eyes drop to the bag and at Ghana, hold tightening on the leash. "Keep him. You've always adored him and the one who wanted him first. Besides, I think Ghana likes you better." He chuckles, crouching down to pet Ghana who senses his leave, tail wagging ever so softly. "I'll get Ghana's other things delivered at Haknyeon's, and he can give it to you. If you need babysitting, you can ask Sunwoo for it and the both of us will manage."

He briefs you through the dog decision without even glancing at you, and even as he stands up. He still had his head hang low, hands empty with nothing to hold now. Not you, not Ghana, not even Ghana's things.

"Thank you for hearing me out, y/n." His head buries deeper in his chest, sniffing once again. "I'm sorry for the pain I caused, when I should've been the one who helped you through it," He nods at himself, taking a few seconds before he finally meets your eyes, pulling a big smile to face you. His face was damp, cheeks, nose and lips swelling and red from all the crying that he did.

His eyes now held nothing, just lifeless ones staring at you. You didn't know which one you preferred, was it the earlier ones, or were it these ones?

Of course, you'll pick the eyes that held love for you every single chance you get to choose. You'll pick the eyes that looked at you as if you were his whole world, so fragile that was afraid that when he touches you, you'll fade. You'll choose that every chance you get.

But now, you weren't sure you were ever going to see that again. Your eyes well up upon the thought, staring back and seeing though his eyes if there was even a soul inside. There wasn't. It was just pure darkness in it, so empty, so cold.

"Be well, y/n." Yet you felt the warmth and genuineness of his last words before he turns around and makes his leave, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walks down the road alone, with the lamps guiding him home.

The home he had always adored, the home that he had shared with you and your dog.

But now, he was left with nothing. Not with you, not with your dog Ghana. He was left with memories— pictures, endless pictures. But what use was it? Both you and Ghana were gone. He wasn't even sure if he was still himself after this.

At the end of the day, it was only his treasured pictures, his pillow, his tears and regrets beside him.

૮ - ﻌ • ა SYNOPSIS ! exes co-parenting a dog?! you see yourself facepalming when you see your ex's text, asking if you could see the dog you adopted together, ghana, because he keeps waiting for you by the door of the apartment you once shared. the next thing you knew, you were walking to the park you agreed to meet up.

CHARACS ! ex! ji changmin x fem! reader; ghana; tbz' sunwoo & haknyeon, xg's jurin & hinata

WARNINGS ! some jokes may be offensive (using 'lord' in the whole series), cursing, if i missed something tell me!

# ... m.list | chap 19 | chap 20 | chap 21

taglist: @molensworld @maiiitime @yeosangsbiceps @taylorluvation

[blxckchxrrybxby]

6 Months In Advance

summary: In the midst of sorting out a scheduling mishap, your daughter wanders away from you and makes her way up to HR.

pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Reader + Reader’s Daughter

warning(s): idek; mentions doctor? Scoliosis?

a/n: dude, I didn't revise this at all. Just brain vomit.

Six months.

That’s how far in advance you had planned for this appointment.

It was written in your planner, saved as a reminder on your phone, and circled in red ink on the calendar hanging in your cubicle. Yet, with barely an hour to spare, you found yourself in the main lobby of Kineros Robotics instead; demanding to speak with the men you worked for. The same men who were responsible for fucking up your work schedule and threatening to fire you on the spot if you didn’t come in.

You frowned, pacing as you checked the time anxiously. They couldn’t possibly fire you for a mistake on their behalf. You were more than 99% positive that you had taken this day off as soon as you were given the job. Hell, you had even mentioned it to them before an offer letter was—well—offered!

“Mommy?” Your daughter whispered, interrupting your thoughts with curiosity twinkling in her eyes. She took in the large building that seemed never-ending.

“Yes, sweet pea?” You replied gently (certain to make sure the stress you emitted wouldn’t be absorbed by your own innocent offspring).

“Where are we?” Her doe eyes were far too busy scanning the environment to pay any attention to you—causing you to let out a chuckle.

“At my job. I just need to talk to some friends really quick then we’ll be on our way.”

She nodded, accepting your words, and stared in astonishment at how different the world inside this building looked to her. It was nothing like the world in your cramped apartment. That world was far too small to compare, but her favorite stuffed animals resided there—so it was home. The building was nothing like the one where you dropped her off at to learn her ABC’s either. It was full of big people and not enough kids. Peering at the environment, her heart sunk at the sudden revelation—this place didn’t even have toys!

Despite how impressive this adult world was, it would never impress her more than recess.  

“Uh…why are you here? And why aren’t you two at the doctor’s?” Your coworker (and only friend) asked after spotting you. Their shoes tapped faintly against the floor as they walked closer; holding their arms out to retrieve the bundled-up 5-year-old perched on your hip.

You looked at them with stress evident on your face, “Jeff and Mutt messed up the timesheet.”

They gasped, now holding the child securely against their own hip, “You’re joking.”

“If I were joking, I wouldn’t be standing right here, now would I?” You scoffed at the reality of your situation as your friend shook their head.

“The nerve of those two. On today of all days!”

You nodded, rubbing at your face. Before being granted the chance to respond, the receptionist informed you that Jeff and Mutt were ready to speak with you.

“Thanks, Marcy.” You replied politely and went to grab your daughter before your friend swatted your hand away. Your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“You’re stressing enough. Just go talk to them. I’ll keep Willow safe and show her around since she seems so… intrigued.”

You both looked at your daughter, who was still eyeing every little detail of the building and chuckled.

“Fine. I’ll come to find you guys when I’m done.” You quickly leaned in and pressed a kiss to Willow’s cheek before scurrying to go see Jeff and Mutt.

Watching you disappear into the elevator, Willow was carried away from the main lobby. As time passed, she met many unfamiliar faces. Most of which slid peppermints into her small hands when y/f/n wasn’t looking, in the hopes of befriending the tiny human. After seeing most of the people on the first floor, Willow grew curious about what other adventures the building held.

Perhaps the top floors weren’t meant for children. Maybe goblins stomped all around guarding their treasures. Or maybe they were full of queens and kings, and the workers were the peasants! As her imagination grew wilder, Willow found herself itching to explore. Squirming in the uncomfortable office chair, she pouted at y/f/n.

“What’s wrong?” They asked, noticing how much your daughter was fidgeting.

“I have to potty.” Willow whined, coming up with the perfect excuse.

They blinked, “Oh, um. Okay... do you remember where the bathroom is at?”

Willow nodded and slid off the chair.

“When you’re done, come right back. I’ll be here waiting, okay?”

Again, Willow nodded before darting off. After passing the bathroom and sneaking past Marcy, Willow made her way onto the elevator. She grinned, pulling out a peppermint and shoving it into her mouth, before slamming her hand against one of the highest numbers. Willow giggled, enjoying the feeling of the elevator moving. It felt like she was on a rollercoaster, and it made her tummy feel funny. Maybe this place was better than recess!

Hearing a ding, the elevator doors opened, and out stepped Willow; instantly bumping into a pair of long legs. With a small, “oof!” her hands managed to grasp onto some fabric. A hesitant hand pressed against her back to keep her balance. Out of curiosity, Willow glanced to the side to see a cane, then glanced up as a woman dressed in purple stared down in slight shock.

“And who are you?”

Willow blinked, gently letting go of the stranger’s skirt, and adjusting her lavender glasses. Tilting her head, she observed as much of the woman as she could. Since the woman wore purple, Willow figured she must be the queen. Purple was for royalty, after all. However, Willow wasn’t naïve. Not all queens are good, she reminded herself.

“I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

Wilhemina arched an eyebrow, smoothing down her skirt, “Neither should I. Yet here we are.” Huffing to herself, she looked around at her trembling assistant and the empty floor before shaking her head. “Follow me.”

As the queen, and trembling girl of whom Willow assumed to be her servant, began to walk away, Willow remained still; unsure of if she should follow the stranger. Noticing the only footsteps that could be heard were her own, Wilhemina halted and glanced back at the frozen child.

“Are you hard of hearing?”

Willow gnawed at her lip nervously and asked innocently, “…are you taking me to the dungeon?”

“Dun- Excuse me?” Wilhemina asked, more confused than she already was.

“You’re the queen, right?”

Wilhemina’s shock wore off and she chuckled, recognizing how wild the child’s imagination was. “Well, that’s one way to put it. Unfortunately, I don’t get paid enough to own a dungeon…yet. Now, come along before I abandon you in this hallway.” Scurrying after them, Willow grinned happily.

-

Standing in the stranger’s office, Willow looked up at the tall woman as she entered the room. “Do you have candy?”

Venable walked past the child and sat in her chair, “Even if I did, would your parents let you have it this early in the morning?”

Willow shrugged, “I only have one mommy.”

Venable took note of this; Mentally scanning through the employees in her head to guess whom this child could belong to. “Well, would your mother let you?”

Willow paused in thought, “No?”

“Alright then.”

-

As time passed, Wilhemina allowed Willow to get settled until her mother showed up to retrieve her. Alerts were sent out to inform the staff of a misplaced entity with two missing front teeth, now in her possession. Now, all Wilhemina had to do was wait for the culprit to show up at her office door. However, this was taking longer than Venable thought it would and the minor was oddly quiet. Especially considering she didn’t have any objects to keep children tame.

The anxiety of not knowing what the child was doing caused Venable to peer over her purple laptop and observe the little germ sitting on her lovely lavender couch (a fine touch and new addition to her workspace). She wasn’t used to the unpredictability of children. However, to her surprise, the little girl was already staring at her with a crossword book open on her petite lap. Venable furrowed her eyebrows as the curly-haired child adjusted her purple glasses back onto the bridge of her small nose. This little stunt warmed her heart to no end, yet she’d never admit it.

“Can I help you with something?” Venable asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.

The little girl shrugged and continued to stare.

Lowering her glasses, she sighed. “I’m assuming your mother has yet to teach you that staring is rude.”

“I wouldn’t stare if you were not pretty.” Willow stated plainly.

Venable tensed and cleared her throat. “You know nothing about what society sees as pretty.”

Willow frowned, “I don’t know who so-so-“

“Society.”

“-socility-“

“Try again. So-cie-ty.” Venable stated, slowing down her enunciation.

“-socie…um.” Willow tried.

“Take your time.”

“…s-society?”

“Correct.” Venable held back a smile. Willow didn’t. She was proud of her accomplishment. A new word she could tell her friends about.

“I don’t know who…society is, but I think you’re pretty.”

“Well.” Venable began, choosing to keep her insecurities to herself. “I suppose I should thank you.”

“Mommy says you don’t have to always say thank you when people tell you nice things.”

“That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?” Venable questioned, becoming more invested in the conversation than she would like to admit.

“No.” Willow stated bluntly.

“No?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Venable arched an eyebrow, trying to piece together who the child’s mother could be.

“Ms. Benavle?”

Venable internally cringed from the mispronunciation. “Yes, child?”

Willow shifted, turning her body towards the awaiting woman, “What does society mean?”

-

Minutes continued to pass as Venable watched over the child. At first, she assumed the little brat was a prodigy, highlighting words at lightning speed in the crossword book. Then, after watching the page become consumed in purple highlighter, her assumptions were tossed out of the window. The child merely enjoyed coloring.

A slight knock caught her attention, breaking her out of the trance she was in. Perhaps it was the child’s mother.

“Come in,” Wilhemina called out, watching in disappointment as her intern opened the door.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Venable. Um, I just had a f-few more questions about the t-time off requests you wanted me to finish-“

Now standing from her desk and approaching the intern as if she were prey, Venable sneered.

“I understand that you are mediocre at best and the tasks assigned to you may be tedious—however—I can assure you that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to complete them. Now, as you can see, I am with child.” Her hand barely outstretched to point towards Willow, “Go be stupid somewhere else. Preferably on the first floor.”

As the intern scurried out of the office, Willow grimaced and crossed her arms at the tall lady. Venable glanced in her direction and arched an eyebrow, “What?”

“You shouldn’t say bad words.”

With a scoff, Wilhemina retreated back to her desk, “Last I checked, I didn’t.”

“Yuhuh, you just did.”

As her ungloved fingers rubbed at the throbbing temple, she hoped to rid herself of the headache that resided in her head and on the couch across from her.

“And what word was it, exactly?”

Willow blinked; eyes widening in surprise. “You’re letting me say it? Mommy said I shouldn’t say it.”

This caused Venable to snort in amusement. After catching her reaction, she cleared her throat. How odd. “How else will I know what I’ve said unless you tell me?”

Looking around, in case it was a trap, Willow swiftly ran up to Venable, stood on her tippy toes to reach her ear, and whispered, “…stupid.”

Wilhemina closed her eyes for a moment, trying to comprehend how she managed to end up in a situation such as this.

-

As the clock neared Venable’s first break and the child remained in her ownership, she sighed.

“Tell me something, little one.”

Venable’s sudden conversation caught Willow’s attention, causing her to perk up in curiosity.

“Why exactly are you here?”

Willow shrugged and looked down at her hands, “I don’t know. I was going to see the doctor, but mommy came here.”

Wilhemina hummed to herself, trying to piece together why the child had been roaming the building unattended. “An appointment, you say?” She looked through her emails, feeling a hint of deja vu. Something about this was vaguely familiar.

“Yes. I get a new brace today!” This caused Venable to arch an eyebrow, “Hopefully it’s purple like this one! Want to see?” Venable remained silent as the child began to unzip her bubble coat. As she shimmied it off of her petite shoulders, the back brace came into view, launching Venable into a state of paralyzation. “See? It’s very pretty.”

She knew this felt familiar. This was Willow. As HR, Venable was well aware of the subordinates and their beneficiaries. She was also aware of any time off requests submitted. Within the past year, Kineros had onboarded so many new faces that she ignored or denied at least 70% of the time off requests within the first week. It was either you work or you find another place to pay your bills. However, some of the accruing requests must have slipped through her fingers. Something she rarely ever fell victim to. Especially after reading something as detailed as Willow’s mother’s.

“Hello? Ms. Benavle?”

Wilhemina blinked; hearing Willow capture her attention once more. She quickly searched through her files and found the denied time-off request. The only issue was, she didn’t remember denying it. Clicking on the document, it slowly brought up the pdf, showing that it had been stamped with her credentials; meaning she didn’t formally sign it.

Her intern did.

“Shit!” She groaned.

Willow gasped, “Bad word!”

Ignoring her and standing from the chair, Venable quickly made her way toward the door. “Follow me.”

Willow quickly grabbed her coat and followed along, “Where are we going?”

Walking with intention as her cane collided firmly with the floor, Wilhemina pressed the elevator button, “To find your mother.”

-

As the elevator opened to the ground floor and Venable stood with a cane in one hand and Willow’s hand in the other, they both descended into the lobby. You and your friend scurried around, panicking at the fact that there was a lost five-year-old in the building. “How in the hell did you lose her?!”

“She’s sneaky!” your friend retorted.

“She’s five!” you fumed.

Venable arched an eyebrow and held Willow close, before clearing her throat.

 Your friend gasped, seeing Willow with Venable, as did you.

“Oh God, Willow! Baby, where were you??” You worried, as she ran over to you and gave you a hug. Rubbing her back, you sighed in relief.

“With me.” Venable interrupted, “May I have a word with you, y/n?”

You nodded, picking Willow up in your arms, and walked away with Venable.

“I am beyond sorry for everything that’s happened. I swear, this will never happen again, Ms. Venable.”

“Why not?” Venable inquired.

You paused, unsure of how to continue—so she did. “This, no matter how unusual it was, was entirely my fault.” You remained silent and equally dumbfounded. “I extend an apology to both you and Willow. It seems my stupid-“ Willow glared causing Venable to clear her throat, “My incompetent intern did not know better and denied your request. I remembered it. Not that it matters, as it’s potentially too late. However, I understand how difficult it is to get an appointment for these kinds of things. If you would like… I have a doctor who would be more than ecstatic to treat Willow as soon as possible.”

You remained silent. At a complete loss for words.

“As fond as I am of silence, I believe a conversation must include two willing parties.”

Willow nudged you, helping you come back to your senses as Venable awaited a response. “I… I’d love that. However, I’d prefer it now… Um, they informed me that since I’m refusing to work today, this is grounds for termination.”

“Nonsense,” Venable stated, completely unphased. “I will have a word with those two imbeciles, and you needn’t worry about a thing.”

You nodded with a slight blush adorning your cheeks as Willow squirmed from your arms and made her way over to Venable, hugging her legs, “I’ll miss you Ms. Benavle.”

With a chuckle, Wilhemina caressed the child’s head. “I will miss you as well, Willow.” Sliding a piece of peppermint out of her pocket, she handed it to Willow with the whisper of a smile adorning her lips. “Come back and visit whenever.”

[pocket-lad]

CH 8- A (Not So) Promising Start

Prev ● Masterpost

Adelaide was in Sarah’s hand. Sarah had grabbed her. She struggled against it on instinct (eight years of it was hard to suppress), uncomfortable in the dark, wet, muddy enclosure, but settled down when she heard Ian’s voice. They were going to get out of this. She just had to be patient, keep a low profile, and take deep breaths.

The men that just arrived had to be the other InGen team. There was nobody else on the island. At least as far as Adelaide knew. She didn’t think she’d be facing this many Humans, and she and Sarah seemed to agree that now wasn’t the time to introduce a tiny humanoid being into the already messy equation.

Sarah couldn’t find a good time to sneak Adelaide into a pocket with all these eyes trained on her, so she held Adelaide against her stomach. Ian looked at her, and Sarah nodded toward her occupied hand in response to his unspoken question. Adelaide was safe. Ian looked relieved. He had Kelly in his arms and Sarah and Adelaide close by. They survived.

Adelaide meanwhile felt stifled against Sarah’s stomach. Her body was coated head to toe in mud, and breathing was difficult. She felt Sarah stand up, and the Beans went on their way. All Adelaide could do was sit tight and try desperately not to think about Eddie’s last moments. It didn’t go so well.

She tried to keep her fidgeting to a minimum. Ian said it could tickle (which Adelaide took great offense to at the time), and she didn’t want to inadvertently reveal herself by causing Sarah to twitch.

Eventually they stopped moving and an accented voice started speaking. “Our communication equipment’s been destroyed. And if your radio and satellite phone were in those trailers, then we’re stuck here, ladies and gentlemen. And stuck together, thanks to you people.”

“Yeah, we came to watch,” Nick said offensively. “You came to strip mine the place. Back off.” The last bit seemed to be directed toward somebody else, but Adelaide had no way to tell.

“At least we came prepared,” Peter Ludlow, said. Great. Hammond's nephew was on the island.

“It’s a looter mentality,” Nick continued. “All you care about is what you can take. You have no right.”

“An extinct animal brought back to life has no rights. It exists because we made it. We patented it. We own it.”

Oh, that was it. Adelaide’s blood boiled. Typical Humans, deciding who did and did not have rights. These animals weren’t even genetically engineered! They had been living on the island for a while now and were likely offspring of those engineered animals. Ludlow would probably say she has no rights either just because he was big enough to do so.

Adelaide suddenly felt very cramped, her anger taking up most of the space in her small enclosure and leaving little room for her body. She shoved at Sarah’s hand, hoping to at least gain a little more breathing room. Or maybe stab Ludlow in the neck.

“Whatchu got there?” Yet another new voice, and not one that sounded friendly. Adelaide froze.

“Nothing,” Sarah said confidently. “I think I bruised my ribs.”

Adelaide admired Sarah’s lying capabilities, but she doubted it would do them any good. She felt the tension in the air and readied herself to attack, just in case.

Sarah’s hand was abruptly yanked away from her stomach and shaken around with sharp, jerky movements, threatening to make Adelaide throw up. She searched for a grip on anything that was available, which was, unfortunately, not much. She didn't have to worry about falling, though. Sarah's hand instinctively tightened to prevent this, squeezing Adelaide just a little too tightly. There was yelling coming from a bunch of different people, but Adelaide couldn’t differentiate any of the voices.

Sarah tried her best to wrestle her hand away, but she also didn’t want to hurt Adelaide or send her flying. In the end, Sarah’s hand was empty, numerous people stood on guard, and Adelaide was dangling from her shirt between the pinched fingers of Dieter Stark.

All of this was a blur for the borrower. She wouldn’t be able to gain her bearings until everyone stopped moving, but she made sure she had a grasp on the one thing that was important - her knife. When everything stilled, Adelaide found herself face to face with a new human. He sneered down his big nose at her.

Adelaide clenched her jaw. It was hard not to show fear when the only things keeping her from falling to the ground were the thumb and forefinger of an unknown, unpredictable, and unfriendly giant clasping the back of her T-shirt. The shirt dug into her neck and chest as she dangled there.

“What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?” the man smirked, and his hot, smelly breath engulfed Adelaide’s body. She coughed.

“Put her down. Now.” Ian’s voice was dangerously quiet. With how close the man held Adelaide, she couldn’t see anything past his face, but she desperately wanted to check out her surroundings.

“Or what?” the man said.

“Or I’ll claw your eyes out,” Adelaide threatened as she drew her knife from her belt.

“Ah, I’m really scared,” he laughed, pulling her away from his face and sending her spinning. She clutched onto her knife, afraid it would be thrown from her grip and lost to the mud below.

When she stopped spinning, Adelaide glanced around her. Ian, Nick, and Sarah stood defensively close, ready to make a move but afraid he’d drop her if they did. Four other men stared at her. She had to assume one was Ludlow and one was the accented guy who said they were stuck here. She didn’t know about the third or fourth.

Nick was the first one to try something. He stepped toward the man aggressively, but the man was quick. He pulled Adelaide up and away, far above his head. “Ah!” He held his hand up to Nick, indicating that if Nick didn’t back down, he’d let go.

Adelaide gasped. “Stop moving!” she shouted at her friends, annoyed. (Was ‘friends’ the right word? She wasn’t sure.) She knew they wanted to protect her, but they’d only make it worse by antagonizing him. Her shirt started to bunch around her shoulders. Not only was it embarrassing (both her shirt and the general situation), but it was cutting off circulation.

“Dieter,” the accented one said in a commanding voice. He wore a hat and was dressed in a way not dissimilar to Robert Muldoon. Like he was ready for a safari.

“What?” Deiter responded. He was clearly having fun riling everyone up.

“I’m not going to ask you twice,” Ian said. Adelaide tried to make eye contact with him to telepathically explain her plan, but he kept his eyes trained on the enemy.

Oh well. She’d do it on her own.

Adelaide slashed at Deiter’s finger with her knife. She couldn’t get a good angle to really dig in, but she was hoping it was enough to make him drop her so she could make an escape. She was also hoping somebody (preferably Ian) would think to catch her.

Deiter just winced and lifted Adelaide back up to his face, not to look at her, but to look at the wound she left behind. His blood dripped onto her head and down her face. She wiped at it with the back of her hand. Gross. His eyes flicked back to her and she forced herself to maintain eye contact if it was the last thing she did.

“Oh, you just got yourself-” he began.

“DEITER!” the accented man repeated, somehow even more forceful than the first time.

Dieter looked at the man, then back to Adelaide, then back to the man again. His thought process was completely opaque to everyone, especially Adelaide, but it became clear in the next few seconds.

“Whatever,” he complained as he carelessly tossed Adelaide upward. She spun rapidly in mid-air and scrambled for purchase on anything, but nothing was there. Her body reached its apex and began to fall, but Deiter caught her by the ankle between two pinched fingers.

The pain in her leg made Adelaide gasp. It felt like it had nearly been pulled out of its socket. And if he applied any more pressure, she was due for a sprained ankle at the very least. As it was now, it would definitely bruise.

This was nothing like when Ian dangled her by her legs that one time. She was still pissed at him for doing that, but it had only been for a second and, as always, he made sure not to pinch too hard. This guy didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she swung back and forth, and even without sight, she could feel his presence directly in front of her face. And then he let go.

Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit, Adelaide thought as she hurtled toward the Earth. This was it. This was the end. The Beans weren’t fast enough.

At the last second, Adelaide landed in someone’s palm. Before she knew who it was but not taking any chances, she shot to her feet and held her knife out defensively.

It was Ian, breathing heavily. “Talk to me,” he said, trying to see if she was okay. He would have just asked if she was okay, but she would have said a simple ‘yes’, and that meant absolutely nothing.

“Let me at him,” Adelaide said darkly, ready for round two, but she was rubbing at her sore ankle.

Ian laughed, thankful that she was alright. He knew he was in for an earful later after everything he did and everything they went through, but he didn’t care. He cupped Adelaide to his chest in the approximation of a hug, despite her muffled protests.

“I’m serious!” Adelaide shoved against Ian’s chest as he pulled away. “I want a chunk of his skin.” She geared up to leap off his palm in the direction of Dieter, but Ian tilted his hand back toward his body to keep her from doing so.

“I know, I know. And I trust you’d get it, too. But generally people don’t take - don’t take chunks of other people’s…skin,” he said, trying to keep Adelaide in one place without wrapping his hand around her. “And it looks like Nick’s got you covered.”

Adelaide paused in her struggle against the ever-changing, ever-moving, steep incline of Ian’s hands. She looked out to see Nick picking a fight.

“You looking for a problem?” he yelled.

“I found you, didn’t I?” Dieter shot back.

Nick lost it and shoved Dieter, but didn’t stop there. He ran at the man, ready for a fight, but everyone else forced the two men apart, yelling at them to stop.

Adelaide winced, ever-impressed with the strength Human Beans possessed. It was like watching two mountains engage in a brawl, and it was very humbling.

“I know you,” the accented man with the hat said as he approached Nick. “You’re that ‘Earth first’ bastard.”

“What’s Earth First?” Ludlow asked.

“Professional saboteurs.”

“Environmentalists!” Nick corrected. He tried to lunge at the other group again, but two men held him back. How did Nick just keep getting cooler?

During the fray, Kelly silently walked up behind Ian. Adelaide felt a presence and turned around, nearly jumping out of her skin when she saw the girl.

“Are you okay?” Adelaide asked awkwardly, noting the blanket around her shoulders.

“Mhm,” Kelly nodded.

Adelaide waited for more but nothing came. “Good talk,” she muttered to herself as she turned forward.

“Knock it off!” Sarah yelled at everyone. “Listen to me. Moving the baby to our camp may have changed the adults’ perceived territory. We have to move. Now.”

Ludlow chimed in with some actually helpful information. “There’s a communication center here near the old operations building. Everything ran on geothermal power. It was never meant to need replenishing. If we can get there, we can send a radio call to the airlift. It’ll be a day’s walk, maybe more. But that’s not the problem.”

“What is? What is the problem?”

“Velociraptors.”

Adelaide froze, and she felt Ian do the same. The T-Rex was bad enough. Velociraptors were worse. There was no evading them.

“We could head back down to the lagoon,” Ian suggested.

“And sit out in the open, next to a heavily used water source and hope that your captain comes back? We head for the village,” the man with the hat said. “We might find shelter and we can call for help. Rex just fed, so he won’t stalk us for food.”

“Just fed? You mean Eddie? Show some respect. He saved our lives by giving his,” Ian said.

“Then his troubles are over. My point is predators don’t hunt when they’re not hungry.”

“No, only humans do,” Nick added.

“You’re breaking our heart,” the man said sarcastically.

“What is your problem?!” Adelaide blurted out. The reminder of Eddie’s gruesome death shot detailed memories straight back into her head and she actively had to force them out.

The man turned his attention to her and she suppressed a shiver. He walked closer but both Ian and Adelaide held their ground. When he stopped walking, Adelaide had to look way, way up at him from Ian’s cupped palm. She stood up.

“Ludlow, is this one of yours?” he called.

Peter Ludlow sauntered up shortly and Adelaide now found herself staring up at two giants. Even better. Between them and Ian, she started to feel claustrophobic.

Ludlow paused for a considerably long time, as if he had to think about it. “No, I can’t say it is,” he finally said.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” Adelaide said.

“Quite sure, thank you,” he responded shortly.

“I have a name,” Adelaide said, glancing between them.

“Me too. Roland Tembo.”

“Adelaide,” Adelaide said hesitantly.

“Peter Ludl-”

“I know,” she interrupted, refusing to take her eyes off Roland.

Roland bent down to Adelaide’s level and Ian took a cautious step back. Roland’s eyes flickered briefly toward Ian’s but quickly returned to Adelaide’s. “I don’t have a problem, Miss Adelaide. Do you?”

It wasn’t exactly a threat, but Adelaide felt a menacing energy nonetheless. “Just your face,” she mumbled, realizing her mistake as soon as she said it. She really needed to stop antagonizing giants.

To Adelaide’s surprise, Roland just let out a good-natured laugh. “Right, then.” He shot to his feet, making Adelaide flinch and drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. “Saddle up! Let’s get this moveable feast underway.”

As everyone headed off in a direction, Ian just looked at Adelaide. “Why?” he asked.

“Cause,” she smirked, refusing to elaborate. He knew. He knew that Roland was a jerk and Dieter was a jerk and all of them were jerks and Adelaide didn’t like jerks.

“Did he do that?” Ian indicated Adelaide’s leg with a finger.

Adelaide glanced at her leg and the gash that was now covered in dried blood. She remembered the pencil that fell and took her out, but the pain was nearly gone now. It was replaced by new pain in her ankle from where Deiter’s fingers were, but that pain was also doable. As long as she could walk, she’d survive. She nudged Ian's finger to get it out of her space. “Oh, no. Something fell in the trailer, but I’m good now.”

Ian sighed. “You’re going to kill me one day. You know that?”

“Shoulder please?” She gave Ian her best smile, though she was sure she looked insane coated head to toe in dirt and blood.

And with that, everyone was off. Adelaide tried to keep her mind off of the dangers that passed and the dangers to come, but there was little else to think about, and she always found her mind wandering back to those awful thoughts. Not to mention, she kept herself alert to the people around her just in case. She could feel them staring.

Though the rain never really ceased, it did let up for a moment. Now, it was pouring harder than ever and everyone was soaked to the bone. Adelaide could hardly see, which is why, when Peter Ludlow suddenly appeared at their side, she shot to her feet in surprise.

Then, since everything was wet, she almost slipped off Ian’s shoulder. She couldn’t sit back down now though. No, she had to make that look intentional, so she held on as best she could.

Ian turned to Ludlow. “I didn’t wish you luck on your new venture. You’re off to a promising start.”

Adelaide unwillingly laughed.

Ludlow eyed them both. “My team is intact. I’m sorry for the loss of your man.” He didn’t sound very sorry to Adelaide.

“Do you even know his name?” she asked. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man, but he didn’t scare her in the slightest. He was all talk. No action. Ian could definitely take him in a fight if it came down to it, and she was even beginning to think she could too.

Ludlow looked at her, disgusted, as if she were some pest, as if he wasn’t sure why she was speaking to him. He ignored her. “It’s easy to criticize someone who generates an idea, assumes the risk.”

“His name was Eddie,” Adelaide pushed loudly. She wiped at her eyes, trying to clear the rainwater away in vain.

Ludlow paused as he was forced to acknowledge her. “Right,” he said. He studied her for a moment, his eyes gleaming, and then the moment passed. That was all Adelaide was going to get.

“Taking dinosaurs off this island is the worst idea in the long, sad, history of bad ideas. And we’ll be there when you learn that,” Ian said, and he walked a couple paces ahead, effectively ending the conversation. Thank God for long legs.

They hiked through the night and then some. Adelaide had always heard about how beautiful sunrises were, how the sky filled with brilliant pinks and oranges. She only ever saw them through a window, and back then her mind was focused on other things. Namely, borrowing.

Adelaide hardly recognized that the sun rose because there was no sign of color in the sky. It just transitioned from black to a light gray. She supposed that felt correct given their bleak circumstances. Still, a little color in the sky would have been much appreciated.

“Take a break! Five minutes!” Roland called out to the group. Everyone collapsed into a seated position, exhausted from walking hours on end. Adelaide felt Ian’s limp get worse as time went on, and she was glad he got to rest.

She, on the other hand, had the opposite problem. She needed to walk around and use her legs, shake out the stress.

Adelaide began her descent down Ian’s shirt, but paused when he spoke. “I’m gonna wash up. You wanna come?”

She wasn’t sure what exactly he meant by that, but she did feel completely disgusting. She thought the rain would wash away some of the grime, but now, instead of being just muddy and bloody, she was wet, muddy, and bloody. And the blood wasn’t even hers. Gross. “Yeah, sure,” she said.

Ian stood up. “Stay here,” he said to Kelly. “Sarah!”

Sarah looked up and Ian pointed to Kelly, indicating that he wanted her to watch her. Sarah nodded.

Adelaide’s arms trembled from holding herself up so long, so she let go of Ian’s shirt, assuming he would catch her. He did, obviously, but it caught him off guard and he scrambled to do so.

“Are you actively trying to give me a heart attack?” Ian asked.

“I’m trusting you,” Adelaide shrugged as she stared up at him.

Ian walked over to a small stream not too far away. At least, it was small to him. It was still within eyesight and earshot of the group, so they’d know when it was time to leave.

He set Adelaide on the ground next to the edge and knelt down next to her.

Adelaide stared at the stream. From up above, it looked so small, so doable. She’d walk in, wash off, walk out, and be done. Up close, it was massive. There was no gradual decline into the water. It was a straight dropoff into the murky depths, the current strong and the water so clouded that she couldn’t tell how deep it was. She couldn’t even be sure it was clean, but it had to be better than the five layers of grime her skin was currently coated in. If only she could swim.

Adelaide must have been standing there for a long time because Ian piped up again. “Della? Hello? Earth to Della?”

Adelaide whipped around to face Ian as if just now realizing he was there. She stammered, trying to figure out if she wanted to admit that she didn’t know how to swim. It was probably best to avoid the conversation altogether. Save them some time. Forget this ever happened.

“Actually, I’m good. I don’t want to,” Adelaide said quickly.

Ian furrowed his eyebrows and stared, trying to work her out. She shifted uncomfortably, and she was suddenly very aware she was on the ground. Like, the ground ground.

Adelaide could physically feel the silence. It needed to be filled. “It looks dirty, so um, so I don’t want to. And it’ll take too long and we only have five minutes, and I don’t think you should leave Kelly alone with-”

“No offense, but that stream looks - looks a lot cleaner than, um, you.” Ian continued to stare. He knew that none of those reasons were legitimate.

Adelaide couldn’t take it any longer. Her eyes bored into the ground at her feet as she sheepishly admitted, “I can’t swim.”

.

Next

[raymond-reddington-ruminations]

Title:By The Horns

Date:July 14th, 2023.

Series:The Blacklist

Category: Finale fix-it fic

Main characters: Donald Ressler, Raymond Reddington

Rating: PG-13

Tags: The Blacklist, Redarina (implied)

*I made up the quotes from Liz in here because I figure they must have had these conversations, even if we didn't see them on screen.*

It was damn lucky that he'd come in a helicopter. As tiny as it was they managed to get Reddington onto the collapsible emergency backboard, and maneuvered him inside. Donald Ressler got Reddington to a medical center inside of 20 minutes of noticing the seemingly dead man twitch.

Now Ressler sat in a side room off of a short hallway. Calling it a waiting room was too generous a term for this tiny little emergency medical center. His elbows rested on his knees and his forehead in his hands. He was shaking, and his vision was off somehow, as it had been since he found Reddington stomped into the ground by the bull. A tornado of conflict like he'd never quite known ran through him. He should be doing something else. He should be calling Cooper back. That wail that had come from Dembe when he'd told them he was standing over Red's body.

But then the twitch, the pulse check, the noise of the helicopter and the urgency of the doctors and nurses. He hadn't had a chance to call them back, to tell them that the man was still alive.

"Not yet," a voice in the back of his head whispered.

Reddington might not make it. Ressler would wait for the doctor to give him some news first.

"There's another reason," the same voice in his head responded.

Shut up, he told it. Are you the devil or the angel on my shoulder?

The voice smiled back. It had Reddington's smug little smile.

The Doctor who had taken Reddington into another room off the hallway charged back out and began loudly calling for the attention of everyone in spanish. He pointed to different people in turn, demanding something. Most people shrugged or shook their heads, but some responded with at least one letter of the alphabet and Ressler understood that.

"A…".

"AB…".

He charged to his feet and quickly advanced to the doctor. "Blood types? Is that what you're asking for? Blood types??! I'm B negative!"

Ressler proffered his arm and slapped the inside of his elbow. "B negative! We're a match! We've done a blood transfer before!"

"Yes, yes!" The doctor grabbed his arm and ushered him into the room where Reddington lay on a stretcher. An oxygen mask was over his face, a brace around his neck, a heart monitor was beeping threadily, and a battered looking portable x-ray machine was being maneuvered over him by two nurses.

Ressler was ushered into a chair next to Reddington, and in short order Resslers blood was trailing through an IV tube into Reddington's arm. The beep of the heart monitor became stronger, more certain of itself. Red's chest began to noticeably rise and fall, something that Ressler hadn't been able to see out in that field.

The nurses finished their scans of Reddington's body and left. They were suddenly alone in the small, cramped room together, with the beep of the monitors and the ticking of a large wall clock. Resslers slow, controlled blood loss was combining with jet lag, and taking its effect on him. He felt drowsy and light, as if he was floating. He found himself looking over at his long-time nemesis, battered and bloodied, unconscious beside him. What a long road this had been. There had been so much loss. Liz. Where did it all end?

There were things he should be doing, like making that phone call. Why wasn't he?

"It'll limit your options. Wait. No one knows but you."

Son of a bitch. It out and out sounded like Reddington in his head now.

He drifted for a bit, not the least bit comfortable with deciding not to decide. Wait and see. Wait for the doctor. Ignore the fact that Red's condition should have nothing to do with Resslers' job.

The doctor returned, going to the wall and turning on a light board. He put up an x-ray of Reddington's skull, and began talking and gesturing to it. When he paused to look back at Ressler, he took in the other man's complete lack of comprehension. After a moment of hesitation, the doctor pointed to Reddington's nose area on the x-ray. He held out his fist horizontally, with the thumb extended to the side. Then he turned his fist so that the thumb was pointed up. He pointed to the area on the x-ray over Reddington's left eye, another place that was still bloody on Reddington's face. Again he started with the thumb extended to the side, and turned his fist so that the thumb was part way up.

"Ok, I got it. Injured, but not so bad."

The doctor put up another x-ray, and pointed his finger down the spine, continuing to talk, but not stopping there. Red's ribs and left forearm each got a big thumbs down, not that Ressler needed that interpretation. He could see for himself the shattered bones in the image. He shifted in his seat, registering his own sore ribs, thanks to Red's marksmanship just days ago. He didn't want to think about that. The voice in the back of his head had been all too convincingly suggesting that in Red's shoes, Ressler would have had to pull the trigger on Hudson himself.

The doctor moved on to an x-ray of Reddington's pelvis, but after just a moment he took it down again. He began flipping through the folder of x-rays in his hands, muttering to himself. He took the X-ray of the pelvis, and compared the numbers on it to the numbers on several of the other x-rays. He seemed confused. Then he left the room.

Donald waited, blinking hard and trying to shake off the faint dizziness. The clock on the wall told him it had been just over an hour since he had first found Reddington in that field.

The doctor returned with a younger woman, in different colored, more decorative scrubs. He put the pelvis X-ray back on the wall, and pointed at it accusingly, seemingly demanding something from the woman. She took the X-ray down, and again compared the numbers on it to the other x-rays. Then she put it back up, gesturing to it and speaking in a deliberately reasonable tone of voice. The doctor cut her off heatedly, gesturing to Reddington and back to the x-ray.

"What's going on?" Ressler leaned forward in his chair, reminding them of his presence.

"Ah. English." The woman spoke haltingly. She pointed at Reddington. "Friend?"

He stared hard at her for a moment. Then raised his fist horizontally, with his thumb out to the side.

"Ah," she replied, though her expression was clearly confused. She pointed to the X-ray, and then pointed to Reddington, and fumbled for the english words. "...tr….uhm…g…ch, change?"

He looked at her blankly, and shook his head that he didn't understand.

She turned back to the light board, and moved Reddington's pelvis x-ray to the side. She shuffled through a folder of x-rays in her own hands, and put up two more x-rays, both of them pelvises. She pointed to the first one, which was longer, narrower, with a smaller oval in the center, mostly taken up by the tail end of the spine. Then with the same hand she reached down and seemingly grabbed her crotch, Michael Jackson style. Ressler blinked, hard, and leaned back, baffled.

The woman pointed to the second new x-ray, where the pelvis was shorter, wider, and had a larger oval in the middle with far less of the tail of the spine showing in it. She then pointed to her midsection, and with her arm drew the shape of a pregnancy belly in the air in front of her.

"Yeah, I do know that. Men and women have different shaped pelvises." Basic forensics had been a long time ago, and he'd never had to make the identification himself, but in theory he could.

The woman slid the two x-rays apart, and popped Reddington's in between them. Then her finger shifted back and forth between all three.

Reddington's x-ray was in between, literally and descriptively. Wider, but also taller. A larger oval, with less tail bone in it. The areas that made the pelvis look taller had different levels of brightness on the outer edges, which Ressler knew from looking at his own x-rays over the years denoted bone growth.

But that large oval in the center, with the small amount of tailbone. That was distinctive.

"No," he said. He pointed at the X-ray, pointed at Reddington, and shook his head. "That's not his x-ray. Obviously."

The woman also pointed to the X-ray and to Reddington, and nodded her head insistently. She took the pelvis x-ray down, and lined it up in her hand with the skull x-ray, the arm x-ray, and x-rays of Reds clearly broken leg after it. She pointed to the upper right corner where the numbers were, and Donald could clearly see that the numbers were sequential. Each x-ray changing by only one number. The pelvis x-ray belonged in the middle of the bunch. He stared in confusion.

The doctor spoke up again, sounding annoyed and arrogant. The woman slapped the pelvis X-ray back up, drawing her finger around the oval in the center emphatically. She pointed to tiny, long-healed cracks that showed around the oval, speaking to the doctor sharpley, and again drawing the pregnant belly in the air in front of her. She pointed at Reddington, threw her hands up in finality, and stalked out of the room.

There was an awkward silence. Then the doctor shuffled his files, stared at the floor, and left.

Ressler sat alone again in the room with Reddington, looking at the X-ray in confusion and dizziness. A group of nurses came, bringing him some orange juice. They quickly and efficiently cut off most of Red's clothing, put his arm in a cast, and bound his leg in a brace. They elevated the bed and carefully supported Red's unconscious upper body as they wrapped his ribs.

Red's entire upper back and the backs of his upper arms were covered in burn scars.

"My father died in a fire when I was 4. He was fighting with my mother. I think Reddington was there."

Liz.

"He killed your mother right in front of you, you tried to kill him for it. Why are you forgiving him now?"

She hadn't answered him, that last time that he spoke to her, in his hospital bed just hours before she died. He never did learn why she backed down on going after Reddington for the seemingly unforgivable act of killing Liz's mother.

But there was that letter that Dembe had given to Elizabeth when he wasn't supposed to. It had seemed to cause such a rift between Red and Dembe. A secret, THE secret, revealed to Liz, finally, on the last day of her life.

Donald Ressler was not by any means stupid or slow. That damn voice in the back of his head was putting the pieces together, but the rest of him was resisting. He looked at the man in front of him, whom he'd been chasing for 15 years. It couldn't be, could it? It just wasn't possible, Reddington was far from being celibate. Someone would know, someone would talk.

"CRISPER gene editing was in use 20 years before anybody thought it was. Men can be implanted with uteruses and carry babies to term. Hooker robots. What exactly isn't possible, Donald?"

No. Not this. It couldn't be.

Alexander Kirk let Reddington go. Reddington would never say why.

Damn it, it fit. It fit so perfectly. It explained every. Damn. Thing. Why Reddington would give his very life to protect Liz, why he forgave her, and only her, every single time.

What the hell?! What the actual hell was he going to do with this??! It just couldn't be right!

A ringing cell phone made him jump, and he fumbled for his pocket one handed before realizing it was coming from the pile of Reddington's clothing nearby.

Shaken, he flipped open the basic phone, seeing the identifying name come up at the same time that the call became active.

Agnes.

"Pinky??! Pinky!!"

Away from the speaker for a moment; "He picked up! I told you! Pinky?? Pinky, say something! PINKY!!" She was escalating into higher panic with every plea.

Agnes. His goddaughter. That bright, beautiful little girl that was the last surviving piece of Liz.

"Not the last, Donald."

He cleared his throat, and spoke her name, in a voice that was clearly not the one she wanted to hear.

"NO! NO, I WANT PINKY! SAY SOMETHING PINKY, PLEASE!! " She was screaming now, and he could hear Cooper in the background, sounding tearful himself, trying to calm her.

Agnes and her Pinky were so close. Closer than Red and Liz had ever been. And he might actually be her Grand….oh god. The implications of it swirled around his brain. Even the lowest criminal, if they qualified as human at all, they couldn't not love their kids. Jesus, no wonder. Now it all made such terrible, tragic sense. Liz. Reddington should have told her.

"Cooper…Agnes, listen…" he tried to cut through her hysteria.

"Ah…nez…" Resslers' head snapped around at the muffled voice. Reddington, one eye flickering slightly, the other swollen shut, was trying to lean his head within the neck brace towards the phone.

"Hang on", he told them all, and pulled Red's oxygen mask just slightly offside, to hold the phone to his face.

"Ag..ness?"

"Pinky??! Is that you??!"

"Izz me…Izz you?"

"Oh God, oh God. Pops said a bull attacked you. He said you were dead! I told him I'd just talked to you!" She'd settled into sobbing her words out.

"Well zaz bullshi'. Heh. We gonna have burgers nex' time."

Bloody, bruised, and bound, Raymond Reddington still managed one of those little grins. Asshole.

"I love you so much, Pinky. Please come home. Don't stay away, just come home."

"Love you, see you zoon."

Ressler took the phone back, and clearly so did Cooper.

"Donald? What the hell??"

"Sorry, I..I really thought he was gone. Then I had to get him help…"

"I had to wait for Dembe to be sedated before I could come home. God, I've got to go back and tell him."

"Yeah. Cooper?"

"Yes?"

"…. I didn't call anyone. I'm here on my own."

There was a long pause of understanding.

"…. You're far from home Donald. Way out of our jurisdiction. I don't know what you can or can't do, or what you want to do. I only know what I would do in your place. I never want to hear her like that again."

"No. Me either."

"This isn't a bureau phone, Donald. This conversation didn't happen. The last one we had earlier, when you did call on a bureau phone, stands."

Ressler closed Reddington's phone.

Red was watching him out of one bleary eye, which seemed more alert by the second. He noticed the IV of blood connecting them.

"Full circle?"

"10 years…not that I really think I ever owed you anything. Except maybe a goodby."

He looked down, not sure where to go from here. He had committed to a course of action with Coopers unspoken consent and support. He was going to take no action at all.

There was no reason for him to stay here now. He could walk out, and Raymond Reddington would remain dead to all the world, with one hell of a tall tale about how he'd died gone out into the world, via the FBI.

Red watched him, picking up the situation easily. Softly, he asked; "Why?"

Red waited, the silence pregnant with tension.

Donald didn't know what to say. He wanted to talk, he wanted to question, and he wanted to forget.

"What…what is Agnes's blood type?"

"Why would you…." Red's working eye had finally managed to focus behind Ressler, to the light board on the wall, where the image of his own pelvis was brightly lit. He was quiet for a minute, and then spoke slower more carefully than he had before.

"I knew how you felt about 'lizabeth, before she did. Before you did. I knew if I said anything good, she'd run the other way."

"So you made fun of me for eight years? Gee, thanks. Why'd you keep it up?"

"Habit. I wish you a good life, Donald."

"Yeah, you too. Red."

The end.

Note; The show is over. They can't say this didn't happen.

[sickly-qt]

You're not on your own.

Drew and Ambrose plot fic!

No emeto in this one, it's just me being wild and crazy and continuing the plot. I also didn't proofread this....

I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

~~~~

Drew was sitting on the couch in Ambrose and Liam’s living room trying to focus on anything other than how unwell she felt.

The intermittent nausea and vomiting sucked but she was getting rather used to it. Today was different. She felt achy and tired, she would almost say that it felt like PMS if she wasn’t pregnant. 

Finn and Liam had gone out to the store to get things for a small cookout they had put together for when they were in town, so it was just her and Ambrose in the house and Ambrose was being rather un-Ambrose-like. 

“Do you need anything?” He asked for what felt like the tenth time in the past 30 minutes. 

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” 

She knew Ambrose was a nurse but he was very much not the doting kind of person, so the fact that he was doting on her made her suspicious. 

Drew was never a snack kind of girl, but ever since this tiny stowaway took up residence in her body she has constantly wanted snacks. Very specific ones at that.

“Do you guys have Cheez-Its?” she asked, hoping that maybe if she could put something in her stomach she would stop feeling so shitty. It helped sometimes with her morning sickness. 

“Uhmm, I don't know. I can check in the pantry.” He said, beginning to get up from where he sat down in an armchair. 

“No, it’s okay I have to pee anyway. I can check.” Drew unfolded from the curled up position she was in on the couch. When she got up a cramp bunched in her lower stomach. It wasn’t super intense, but it caught her off guard in a way that made her grimace and suck in a little breath.

“Are you okay?” Ambrose asked from her side, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She jumped, not even realizing that Ambrose had gotten up. 

“Yeah, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that. It was just some cramps. I'll be okay.”

A look flashed across his face as she said that, one that looked like concern. As quickly as it was there it was gone and his face was unreadable, but Drew could tell there were a million thoughts running through his head.

“Ambrose, I’m okay” She said again, shrugging off his hand and walking to the bathroom. 

She was probably okay.

She walked out of the bathroom where she found Ambrose standing at the kitchen counter on his phone. 

“Anything from Finn and Liam?” She asked.

Ambrose shook his head, “No, but knowing my boyfriend he’s making Finn do the mandatory lap around Target.”

If Drew wasn’t in her own little world, she may have giggled.

“Is everything okay?” Ambrose asked.

“I know you know.” Drew blurted, finally looking at Ambrose.

“I- I don’t know what-”

“Just stop, you’ve been smothering me more than Finn does.”  She cut him off and braced herself on the counter as another cramp ran through her, this one she felt in her back as well.

“I’m a nurse, we look after pregnant ladies. As a nurse your cramps are kinda freaking me out.”

“Yeah, me too. Is this normal? It’s probably normal right?”

“It- It can be… is there any bleeding or anything?” He straightened, putting his phone in his pocket.

Drew shook her head, wringing her hands together. 

“Some cramps and even a little bit of spotting is normal in the beginning… Um, how about you sit down. If they don’t stop soon, maybe seeing a doctor should be considered.” 

“I don’t have a doctor, especially not in Seattle.” She cringed as another cramp balled in her stomach. This one not as intense as the last. 

“A hospital isn’t going to turn a cramping pregnant woman away.”

“Whoa whoa, who said anything about the hospital.” Drew looked at him with wide eyes. “They’re already not as bad, I’m sure I’m fine, I just have to sit down. Do you have like a heating pad or something?” Drew asked, sitting back on the couch and curling up under a blanket.

“Uh, no. But I can ask Finn or Liam to get one at the store?” Ambrose sat down at the other end of the couch.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. I think they’re going away… and I don’t want Finn to worry. He needs some time to not worry about me for once.”

Drew closed her eyes and started to doze off for a little bit before Ambrose cleared his throat.

“Listen, it’s really none of my business but, Finn loves you and he’ll support you no matter what you decide to do. And I- There’s Liam and I… We’ve been looking at houses in California and we would be more than willing to help with a baby. I guess I’m just… you guys aren’t alone. You wouldn’t be doing it on your own.” Ambrose looked over at Drew, “Oh shit, I’m sorry. What did I- Did I say something wrong? Are you still cramping?”

Drew shook her head, sniffling. “No, I’m alright. This happens a lot now.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeves. “You were just a little too nice to me. You can stop now… have you guys really been thinking about moving?”

“Yeah, I mean… you guys are out there, and now that you might be having a baby and everything. Liam’s sister is in Cali as well. It just makes sense.”

“Thanks.” Drew sniffled, wiping her eyes again. 

“Yeah, no problem.” Ambrose looked at his phone and got up, “Finn and Liam are back… I’m gonna help them bring the groceries in. You might wanna not be crying when Finn comes in, he’ll probably freak out and think I bullied you or something.”

She laughed and rubbed at her face, probably making it worse than it was before, “Maybe just tell him I’m in the shower.”

[slutterhaus]

.butterflies

AN: Currently doing two little blurbs for Cannibal Sweetheart while I work on some spicy content for Where Winter Crows Go and decided to post the bestie Pestie first 💕 CWs: Mentions of drug and alcohol usage, unrequited feelings? Slight, teeny tiny angst because of the internal struggle, mentions of nausea and 'hurling'. Other: Second Person POV, GN!Reader, Reader is not MC, Pestilence is most likely be ooc I'm so sorry. Under read more because the game is 18+. Pesti belongs to @cannibalsweetheart

It was as if someone had punched you in the gut. Stomach cramping, nausea building up, burning all the way to your lungs. And the more you tried to unjumble the thoughts, the worse the feelings got. Your eyes drifted to Pestilence's figure on the couch, high off its mind while you were left to bounce your leg and stare at your phone's screen. The message from its best friend didn't do much to comfort you, however.

'Romantic and platonic walk a fine line together, because you will always want to take care of the person and have them be happy. In my case, I know it's romantic attraction when I get butterflies in my stomach.'

The message bubble meant well, but you were sure that if there were butterflies, they were the ones causing the cramps. Yet, your heart did beat a little faster whenever it got close. Deciding you weren't going to mull it over any longer, you stood up with a sigh and headed into the kitchen to throw away the long-forgotten booze that sat on the table next to your side of the couch. No use being buzzed while your own mind was buzzing.

Besides, its best friend had one thing right. You wanted to take care of Pestilence, especially right now considering your apartment was stuffy and humid because of the broken AC. It was a stroke of morning bad luck that should've been a sign of how today was going to go. Though its' presence always brought you peace despite Pestilence's energetic and eccentricity.

Humming to yourself, you prepared something quick and easy that may satisfy the munchies, even if it would eventually lead to it hurling in your bathroom. You were prepared for that too. Then, you grabbed a hand towel and wet it under the running water of the sink, coming back with it and something to drink before wiping someone the sweat that beaded on its forehead.

Pestilence giggled, mumbling something along the lines of "So good to me." that were drowned out by the TV behind the two of you. Your body inclined to lean in and rest your forehead against it's, but decided it wasn't the moment, not when you still have to figure yourself out first. Your friendship with Pestilence was too precious to you and you'd be damned if you made it uncomfortable.

For now, you were content on simply having it by your side while the raging waves and storm of emotions racked through your body. Whether you loved them platonically or romantically, you wanted to see Pestilence smile, always. That much was for certain.

[terresdebrume]

A scene that will definitely not be in the modern Webgott fic but also it assaulted me this morning and refused to let go of my brain so. Yeah. Featuring trans!Webster before anyone knows he's trans.

Mom is in the middle of lighting the shabbat candles when Joe's phone goes off, and no one says a thing. Which is fucking rich, because Joe's always on Ruth's case about phone use during holidays and he's away most of the time, and he doesn't even shut the thing down right away! Ruth turns to Al, whose eyebrows are gratifyingly up in shock even though she's not saying anything.

"Joseph," Mom says, always in German, "turn that thing off, please."

"It's from Germany," says Joe, frowning and not actually turning it off, the rotary phone ringtone growing louder on the second run.

"Just ignore it," Jake says, glancing at Mom before turning back to Joe with a frown. "You don't know anyone in Germany."

"There's Virginia," Joe frowns, thumb already hovering over the screen. "And it's, what, two am over there?"

"All the more reason to ignore it," Ruth dismisses, trying not to sound as annoyed as she feels. "She's probably just drunk at a party somewhere and having a laugh."

Joe's mouth twists to the side, in that way he does when he thinks something might be a load of shit, which Ruth thinks is fucking rich. Virginia Webster has been a little shit in Joe's periphery for as long as Ruth can remember: apparently she insulted him on his first day working for her stupidly rich parents and hasn't stopped being a pain in the ten years he's been driving her and her equally rich and obnoxious family around. Ruth may have never met her—of course not, she lives in New York and is part of the reason why Ruth's eldest brother is a figure mostly confined to high holidays and the occasional New Year break—but she's heard enough to know it's not worth blowing shabbat for her.

"Joseph," Mom says, much calmer than Ruth feels, "ignore it or don't but stop that noise."

"Right," Joe says frowning harder as he gets up from his chair, prompting Judith and Rachel to finally join in the outrage. "I'll be a minute."

Ruth is still gaping, searing at Joe's retreating back as he makes his way up the stairs and tells his employers' daughter he's kind of busy—and in German, no less. At the head of the table, Mom and Al don't even look angry.

"Are you kidding me?" Ruth asks, watching Mom shake her match out. "We're waiting for him?"

"Of course we are, don't be rude, Ruthie," says Mom, frowning at where Joe disappeared.

"But it's not fair!" Ruth protests, not bothering to check her volume. "He's always on my ass about not having my phone out—"

"It's his job," Alma sighs. "He can hardly refuse to answer."

"So what, he could have just said he didn't hear his phone! They see more of him than we ever do already, and now they want him to pick up the phone when he's on leave, too? That's just bullshit!"

"Ruth come on," Jake tries, sighing on the last word, "it's the one time—"

"Yeah, that's how they start!" Ruth insists, frustration mounting at the lack of reaction from the rest of the family, "Next thing you know they'll be doing it every five minutes—"

"After ten years of respecting his time and right before his contract ends?" Judith asks, skeptical. "I think it's more likely there's a real emergency."

"Okay, and if there is why can't she call her rich family about it?" Ruth retorts. "We hardly ever see Joe—"

The heavy footfall of a grown man sprinting down the stairs cut Ruth short, Joe reappearing in the cramped, tiny living room and immediately going for the coat rack. That, at least, makes everyone pay attention. He doesn't even look pissed, is the thing, like it's perfectly normal for your boss--not even that, your bosses' kid--to call you from halfway around the world and start giving you orders long-distance. Ruth is about to protest, when Esther asks:

"You're leaving?"

"Just a couple hours," Joe says, sinking a hand into his pocket, presumably to check for his keys.

"She's not seriously sending you on an errand right now," Judith scowls, but Joe shakes his head.

"She had a car accident."

"Oh, shit," says Mom, one hand coming up to her mouth, "is she okay?"

"She says she's fine," Joe sighs, pausing to rest a hand on the back of Jake's chair and sighs in a way that makes him look profoundly relieved and unfairly burdened at the same time. "But Hoob and Van--I mean, the two guys she was traveling with are dead so she's probably downplaying her stuff."

Ruth's stomach clenches. She doesn't like any of the Websters on principle, and she's big enough to admit she's jealous, sometimes, that this Virginia girl seems closer to her brother than she feels... but she's not enough of an asshole to resent her Joe's concern right now. Basic decency and all that. That doesn't mean Ruth can't get confused, though.

"I don't understand," she tells Joe, "she's in Germany, what the hell can you do from here?"

"She's not in Germany, they were on a road trip to Belgium," Joe says wiping a hand over his face. "Place called Bastogne, apparently. She's got a friend who'll be willing to fly out, but he goes incommunicado during holidays so since his break residence isn't far she asked if I could drive there and let him know the what's what."

"What about her parents?" Mom asks, having firmly veered from potential irritation to concern.

Joe scoffs, dismissive.

"I'm the driver and she called me first, Ma, what do you think?"

Ruth stays quiet, but quietly adds a new, somewhat surprising reason why the Websters sound like fucking assholes. It doesn't make it okay that Joe's going to miss his last shabbat before he has to go back East, but it does make it easier to decide not to give him grief over it. She sighs, twisting her fingers together, and tells Joe:

"You'll be careful on the road, right?"

"Sure."

"And you let us know how it goes," Al adds, no room for argument in her tone.

"Yeah," Joe says, sighing again and fishing his car keys out of his pocket. "I'll eat when I'm back, don't wait up."

Mom nods, but Ruth knows they're all going to wait anyway. It's not like the food can't keep, after all, and as miffed as she was that Joe has to leave at all she doesn't want him to be penalized for helping a friend, thanks. So: they wait. Ruth trounces Jacob at pocker, then looses all of her peanuts to Alma when they bet on UNO, and then they dust off the snakes and ladder board with a corner chewed up from when Esther was little and in her eating paper phase.

And when Joe comes back with the reassuring news that the guy he want to fetch is flying out in the next couple of hours--thank you private jets, apparently--it's with a gift basket that's worth more than Jake's rent, so. There are compensations too.

[spotaus]

THE BABY!!!!

Hehehe! Yeah! I was debating on how long I wanted it to be, but I needed to decide what might have the most impact for the lot of them. Because any shorter and *Ccino* wouldn't have been confident enough to trust the knights and be able to talk highly of them to Night later on, and any longer would be detrimental to keeping it under wraps while he's still getting used to being tiny.

And ye!! For Ccino it was *almost* like he was back to years ago, when Night was little and Night (and Dream but y'know) would curl up around him and rest. Of course a lot more stressful for Ccino this time because, wow, Night sure is sleeping. But! There were moments when Night would shift or move in his sleep, so they all had assurance he hadn't ended up, like, in a coma or something. And for the knights? For Killer and Horror it's absolutely a sense of 'Holy shit the king is so tiny and young and he's hurt and awawawaw baby...' and they feel like they have to like, be even more vilgilant! For Dust it's... growing on him. He always kinda assumed he was older than Night when he was king so it's kind of been a weird power dynamic, but now that Night is so signifigantly young. Well. Night hasn't woken up yet, but the king reminds him a lot of his younger brother. And. He hurt his brother once before. So he's being extra cautious. And Cross! Cross is afraid!! He got reassurances (and when he was on guard duty alone Ccino gave him a few more clues, though didn't tell the story since it's not his to tell) but he's still veyr very worried! All the time! Ahhh!

Yes!! Exactly!! He's *confused* about Ccino, but it doesn't ever actually worry him that it's Ccino there! Something something Ccino has always been his safe space and nothing can change that- And! Killer always used to pop up at random times in the castle (though he was usually tentative about proximity to Ccino) and so he can rationalize Killer too! If it had been Cross he probably would've been a lot more alarmed, new guy after all, but Killer was around when he still barely knew how to rule, so Killer seeing him apparently weakened wasn't his worst scenario by a longshot!

And, hehe! Yep, Ccino had Nightmare pulled so close to him the entire time!! A few times Killer or Horror managed to convince him to stand and walk around to make sure he didn't get stiff or cramp, and Killer was always the one who pressured him to eat meals (Killer tries Really Hard to not push Ccino's boundaries, but he's seen the progess Ccino's made and knows Night would be distressed if Ccino started starving himself the moment Nightmare was out of commission-) and in those moments Ccino would make it quick before returning right to Nightmare's side. Night was always safe and warm and cozy!

The voice! It'll probably show up again in more drabbles later on, but!! Idk if it's just me (spot lore ig) I used to get freaked out hearing my voice on the phone because it always sounded a lot deeper than I thought I sounded (though now it's a comfort so as it goes lol-) but I like to think Nightmare experiences the opposite! He expects his chest to rumble a bit with the sound, he expects his voice to project, he expects it to be low and deep. And he gets a preteen pitchy high voice instead? It just shoots him straight back to the last time he spoke that he can recall it distressing him! The breakdown! Hehehe >:]

Killer getting to see Night wake up was probably one of his favorite things that has ever happened. Because, on one level he recognizes that Night is very adorable waking up. On the other hand, he's been the one leading the others, telling everyone that things would be okay, Night will wake up and they'll have their king again soon. He's been so worried that maybe he wouldn't get to see Nightmare when he awoke, that he'd seal himself away. But! Like you said! He got to see the sweet moment as Night woke up and saw Ccino and played witness to their gentle, familiar interaction! Not as an intruder, and not as an unwelcome player either! He knows Nightmare acknowledged him being there, and he didn't seem bothered. Killer got miniscule proof that it was okay for him to be here! To be part of it!

And yeag, there were a lot of emotional/groggy morning thoughts associated with this drabble lol! Night strikes me as a person who wakes up alert and prepared with thoughts on the brain, but doesn't get up until he's organized them, so he was already out of sorts trying to rationalize things that his young lil brain was no longer prepared to focus on. but also? lots of sensations! Lots of new things and lots and lots of missing things that are usually so second-nature he didn't notice they were gone till he tried to focus on them! (Like having ur phone in ur pocket and not remembering you forgot it until you go to use it lol-)

Ccino's title has been... hazy for Nightmare for a bit. Because as Prince he always thought of Ccino as his caretaker. (For a long time his perception of what a 'parent' is is the person who made you, and the ones that matter and care about you are caretakers. Ex. Ccino) but as he became king and Ccino stuck with him and continued to care? Well, he was knowledgable to recognize that Ccino was more like a parent than his mother ever was, but so close in physical age now he figured referring to him as such would be... strange. And now that he's little again his soul wants so badly for him to just call Ccino his dad or his older brother or SOME familial name that somewhat fits, but his brain and ego are still tied into the idea of Adult Night so he can't quite parse out what to call him yet, lol!

Night is first and foremost concerned for those who have been waiting for him to wake up! Boy, similar to Ccino, can't rest without doing work. So he wants the knights to see him, to be able to talk to them. He's kinda forgetting he can't feel their emotions anymore though and with his current mindset and state he'd probably end up getting nervous and crying in front of them. But he just needs to talk to tthem! Hear their side of things. Offer them an out-

But Ccino stops him! Unlike for Night, Ccino's had several days to mentally prepare for every scenario regarding Night's mental state, and when he wakes up memories (mostly) intact but obviously not articulating as well as usual and being surprised, Ccino is able to decide he's needed more as a caretaker than an advisor right about now. So, he has few qualms parenting Night for just long enough for him to think his words through! (Plus, Killer is Killer, and Ccino knows he knows more about them than anyone, so there's little harm in acting like that in front of him.)

Nightmare is very very distressed, but he also is constantly aware of his appearances and uses it for his own gain! (Those diplomacy lessons as a kid paid off for at least one thing-) Before he was scary. Now he's cute again! And ofc Ccino folds, his baby is back and he hasn't seen that cute stare in years!!

YEAH!!! BATHTIME BABY!!!!!!

The bath scene was so fun!!! I decided to stick with Nightmare *only* getting a head wound (though the magic *did* crack his spine in a few places, I think that the magic sealed over that damage the longer it was there because it was what caused it. The head injury was due to Dream's attack, and therefore the magic didn't heal it over time like the others-) which made the scene a lot easier to play off as so chill and relaxing! Ccino is just stepping right back into routine (ofc panicking inside a little bit, but he's just happy Nightmare is alive and okay-) and so Night can be calm!

And yes!! I wanted to finally include some of his humming into one of my drabbles, and this seemed like the perfect moment! Nightmare needed reassurance. Ccino was willing to give it, and it made cleaning the cracks easier on the both of them!

Only when the humming stopped did Nightmare give into his thoughts and worries, and without Killer in the room (rip dude, you got to see some of the emotions but not all!) Nightmare could finally worry over all the things that had occurred to him just since he woke up! Which! Was a lot! So, he tells Ccino.

And, normally, I write Ccino as being close to the knights, but kind of in the way that Ccino's the friend who's nice to everyone and plays therapist but no one knows what's going on with them outside of hang-outs, y'know? So like, Ccino and Horror are probably outwardly the closest of the knights, then Killer and Ccino (they would boost to the top if they weren't so corny about the Winter Balls-), then Dust and Ccino, then Cross and Ccino, but none of them can really get him to genuinely hang out a lot of the time. Like Ccino not having a horse trained by Dust yet. Statuses and connections to Night limited their connections and friendships. Point of this is- Ccino normally would not go out on a limb to defend the knights! This is happening now for three reasons. One, he is actively seeing every one of them work to help Nightmare, even when he told them what he suspected was happening. The next is that they have All been rolling over for him. By that I mean that, while Killer *has* been the face guy, if Ccino suggests something or tells them to better execute a plan? They've been doing it. Happily. Like, no argument, no nothing. And they used to do that when Night was awake and strong, but they still listened when it was just Ccino. (Product of seeing Ccino in action before, mixed with knowing Killer, prideful as he is, refers back to Ccino for thoughts and advice rather than taking power himself.) And three, he knows that Nightmare cares about the knights. Too much, in Ccino's personal opinion, but a lot nonetheless. Ccino is just as crafty as Nightmare (who do you think taught him- I mean-) and he knows for a fact that Nightmare respects and values each knight as a person, so implying that doubting their loyalty would be a blow to their honors? Yeah, it's a little dirty, but he knows it will do the trick to get Nightmare to see that he's still going to be alright. (Also he fully believes any of the knights, including Cross, would willingly throw themselves infront of a flaming cannonball if they could protect Nightmare, all for their own reasons.) So! Yeah! He's letting himself get attached to the knights by accident!

And yeah, we're real lucky the door is so thick, because if Killer had been able to hear the humming, and *then* Ccino praising him (and the others but like, specifically him for that thing he was so worried about?) for helping?? Oh he'd be done for. He'd have to go swap out. His soul would be a heart and he'd be so so obvious about it-

Oh! right! Yes, Nightmare is never not afraid of Ccino leaving! But Ccino's done this song and dance so many times he knows just how to fix it! And yes! The promise was something big that I wanted to add in! Because I know they've made several like that already, but Night has to keep updating the terms and services agreement because he keeps going through major magic shifts!!! Ccino, internally, has some caviats that will come back to bite him later (Ccino is still not 100% healed, we know this, he knows this, and he might never get over the hanging grief and fear he's bottling up (refer back to. Uh. The mention of when Killer and Ccino discuss kids later on he finally lets it all flood out, for example-)) but in the way he knows Nightmare means, he can agree to those terms.

Killer is SOOO happy!!! If he had a tail it'd be thwapping against literally everything ever. His little king is all clean and fresh and alive and walking!! He's there!

And the Nightmare cleaning Killer's face thing! Yes! (<- To answer your tags, in the entire drabble THIS was my favorite scene hehe!) I realized I needed something to break up the tension a bit, because wading in the stress and gloom for an entire piece isn't exactly the most thrilling, so I wanted it to feel realistic. Ccino knew Night was tense, but Killer could see in Nightmare's face that distress at Killer being taller than him now (because it had been freaking Killer out a little bit too since Nightmare had walked past him and he noticed earlier). And Killer decided he needed to do something to remind him that dynamics were the same! So, he thought on his feet and did something he's been doing for *years*. (I like to think Killer noticed how neat and tidy Nightmare was, and once after training Killer had his tear streaks all smeared across his face (he'd been running around a lot-) so Nightmare noticed and didn't even think as he used a tendril to clean Killer's face. Killer was absolutely enamoured by the treatment and decided to do it on purpose a few times to see if it would happen again, and it did. And it just kept going, and at some point both of them seperately knew the other one enjoyed the little ritual and so it just. kept happening. Usually Killer doing it purposefully.) So, he smears his tears, and it's second nature for Night to hold his skull still and clean it! He has to change the method, but by the time it occurs to him he's already committed, and Killer doesn't bat an eye at the new method (ex sleeve) and so night doesn't feel as weird about having done it! It's a very very little and intentional show of normalcy between them! And sorry this got off-track but I love the idea that the dynamics (Big Bro Night and Little bro Killer, shifting to Little bro Night and Big bro Killer) are allowed to change while others stay the same!

Anyways!! Mask! That was another bit I wanted to make sure got in there! He establishes VERY quickly to himself that he needs to find work-arounds and hide himself away, and seeing his mask again is his own personal final step to getting used to being small again and accepting it best he can in the moment. he needs to make the new him fit the image of the old him. Somehow. Symbolically I really liked making Ccino the one to tie it in place too! That was just really fun, and to be I like to imagine Killer standing there watching and realizing that this mask he's literally never seen in his life WAS Night's entire life before this. This little owl (which is frankly adorable) was Nightmare as a prince. Suddenly he wants even more to dig up graves and re-torture some people Night had him take out in the early days.

And the magic! I think Night is convincing himself that he *has* to have a next move. And we've very briefly talked about it, but changing magic colors and appearance isn't easy, nor painless, so to bring it up as his first goal to two non magic-users makes it a lot more real to him that he'll have to do it. If he tells them now, they won't ask much about it later (hopefully) and he can go through that bit on his own without others worrying too much. It's also a good point for him to establish (mostly to Killer, like proof he hasn't been wasting his time) that he *will* be returning. And he'll be working. Because the Knights and Ccino have been working their asses off to help him for so long and even though he's been set back, he can't give up! He wont! Even if he feels like he's trying to push a mountain, he'll figure it out!

Oh yeah- That bit was another silly moment to bring up the mood again lol! Killer knows for a fact that Nightmare would be out in .002 seconds in they were in a free duel, and he doesn't like lying to Nightmare, so instead he sets up a silly scenario! They both know Cross would definitely destroy him in any sort of combat, but they're also very aware that Cross would stumble being pit against an enemy who is a) unfamiliar with that activity and b) their new tiny king c0 his higher up. So! He stands at least a sliver of a chance! And the scenario is so absurd that they can't help but laugh a little!

New Age AU (Waking Nightmare)

Heyyy everyone! I'm scheduling this to post rlly early in the morning my timezone so don't mind that- We are officially (at least for a little bit) going in order for these drabbles! So, they may be a bit more boring than some of my other ones, haha-

Having said that, here's a third addition for the main-story! (un-edited as usual so please ignore my fumbles haha!)

(My beloveds @ancha-aus , @papiliovolens, and @mutzelputz ! Hi again!)

Comforting darkness. Night couldn’t be sure of the last time he’d slept so soundly. The remnants of a chill against his bones worn away by heavy sheets and a warm softness that engulfed him. 

His mind was bleary as he felt the edge of consciousness snake into his skull. Some little energy that sparked in his chest and urged his mind to catch up with the restlessness of his stationary magic. He was so cozy. His magic was right, though. Like every other day, he had duties to attend to and events to oversee. 

A meeting with the lord of a border town at 9 this morning, a temple-leader at 10, a break until lunch which he planned to use to help prepare Horror’s gear for his upcoming mission, then an incoming shipment of goods would arrive around 2, he’d host the merchants for an hour or two, then the Knights training would be at 6. Most of the tasks felt like routine at this point, there was always someone who needed direct audience, and Nightmare saw fit to at least hear them out, though some obviously took priority over the others. The shipments wouldn’t be too difficult either, and the merchants were often simply charmed to spend time in the parlor of the King, he usually only had to sit and listen to grand tales until the merchants excused themselves for their next delivery. Training was likely his favorite daily task, he usually looked forward to it. Getting to be active, see his knights active, it was a treat after a long day. 

Hmm. Actually. Why was he having such a hard time remembering his plans for their work today? 

Nightmare felt his brows furrow in the blissful darkness of his room at the thought. He always ensured he established a new routine before he turned in for the night. Usually mulled it over during dinner as the others chattered about any sort of interesting topic, and wrote it out in his journal before changing and laying down. Or, more usually, turning to other papers and projects in need of handling. 

Only, he didn’t remember doing any of that. 

He would blame it on his sleep-addled brain, but as far as he could recall, he only can think of Cross and Horror’s sparring. He’d called it a day when Cross fell into routine, but… That was where his recollection of the day ended. No dinner chatter, no late-night bookkeeping, it was almost distressing. 

Maybe he’d simply had a long night. Sometimes when he went without sleep for a week or two his sleep would be heavy and he’d be groggy. Ccino might’ve been right, he’d need to be more aware of his sleep-schedule. Especially if it was starting to affect his memory. He didn’t want to start forgetting things. That would leave him vulnerable, susceptible to trickery and claims against his fitness to rule. He swore he’d ask Ccino about it later, if his journals didn’t provide him with enough context to jog the missing memories, of course. 

The only good news was that he must’ve only been asleep for a normal amount of time. There had been no wake-up call, from Ccino, his knights, or otherwise. Perhaps he was lucky enough to have awoken before the rest of the castle deemed him needed and he might get a chance to explore his writing before anyone expected him. 

Right, that decided it then. It was time to get up and around. 

Soundless, Nightmare outstretched an arm above his head and let his limbs uncoil as well. Cold air surrounded them, and he thought little of it as he moved to shove himself upright. He planted his elbows behind him, lifting, only-

“Nightmare?” 

The soft voice didn’t so much as startle him as it confused him. It came from somewhere behind him. Above him? He opened his good socket and found the room was, in fact, not pitch-black like he’d assumed. There appeared to be a single candle somewhere to his left. More alarmingly, however, was the familiar crimson glow of a target-shaped soul. Though, as Nightmare caught sight of it in the darkness with his fuzzy vision, it wobbled a bit, shape becoming unstable. 

Why… 

He blinked in thought, his mind running slowly to catch-up. That was Ccino’s voice. 

Nightmare twisted his head, and spotted, now, Ccino. He seemed tired, and he. He had been tucked under the covers, right beside him. Nightmare realized, with a jolt, that one of his elbows was digging into Ccino’s lap, and he lifted his weight off of him the second he connected the dots. Ccino’s eyelights were wide and bright despite the obvious bags under his eyes, and Nightmare felt like his skull was full of pudding as he tried to figure out why exactly this situation felt so strange. 

Of course, Killer probably shouldn’t have been in his quarters, to start with. He was welcome, of course, but the only time Nightmare had asked him in for the night were when he had paranoia fits, back at the start. He doubted he’d ask in both Killer and Ccino at once, though. So perhaps Ccino had asked him in? To watch over them or to deliver something? But that brought him back. Why was Ccino in his quarters? He would never complain, of course, he had always slept best with Ccino nearby, his magic and voice soothed his troubles, but it was strange. He didn’t recall having a break-down. There had actually been very few major stressors over the past few months, and very few which would bother him enough to need comfort. 

“Ccino?” He questioned in return after his prolonged silence provided him nothing in the way of answers.

Though. His voice seemed to tip him off to… something. It was tired, a tone Ccino was all too familiar with, but it was not deep. It didn’t rumble in his chest or project beyond himself with ease. His voice was hoarse and weak, as though he’d been crying. And. It was familiar. In the same way that Ccino’s arm which wrapped at his shoulder was familiar. 

“You’re awake… How do you feel, my king?” Ccino asked, then. 

Yes, something was certainly wrong. 

In the corner of his vision he noticed that Killer had gotten closer, stood at the foot of the bed, his soul dimly illuminating the underside of his skull. His grin was wide, the kind which followed naming a new cat or testing the weight of a new knife. Something had made him happy. Nightmare, realized starkly, that he could not feel that happiness. In its place was the cold of the room, and an eerie internal silence. 

“Strange. …Cold.” Nightmare spoke without thinking. 

Ccino had always been able to help him with his troubles. It was second nature to tell his woes to his caretaker- Caretaker? Ccino hadn’t- Nightmare hadn’t thought of Ccino as his caretaker in years. Ccino was- his guardian. 

Ccino shifted slightly, and Nightmare felt the arm on his side shift so that it covered more of his side. A significant portion of his upper arm, over his shoulder, and across his back. He leaned into it a bit. Ccino was warm. 

He could feel warmth again. And cold. What had happened?

“I… imagine that you would, my king. How much do you remember?” Ccino’s other hand crossed over his chest to rest on Nightmare’s forehead. 

It was warm, and he only barely refrained from attempting to throw his whole weight into Ccino’s palm. The back of his hand nearly covered all of Nightmare’s forehead. It was strange. 

Nightmare wanted to answer him, to say that he didn’t remember, ask for answers. But he lifted his hand to meet Ccino’s outstretched arm and. Well. Those were white phalanges. Peeking out from his heavy, thick sleeve were little hands with pearly bones and a soft purple hue between the joints. His reaching fell short by an inch or two, coordination lacking, his arm felt shorter than he expected it to be. 

And on the same note, his back felt sorely empty. Tendrils missing from his spine. Nothing to wrap around Ccino, subconsciously or not, and nothing to lean back on. 

Memories started filtering back. Feeling unsteady, falling off his feet, collapsing and losing his senses. His magic, all draining, all at once. His knights there, arms holding him. Ccino holding him. 

“I collapsed. Didn’t I?” He asked, voice small. 

There was a gentle hum from Ccino. 

“Yes, you did. Your Knights said that just after training your magic seemed to drain away, and they called for me when you became unresponsive. Does that sound right?” Ccino explained quietly, removing his hand from Nightmare’s skull.

He thought about it for a moment, but it sounded right. There was no reason to doubt Ccino was telling the truth, either. Ccino wouldn’t lie to him. He nodded. Yes, it did sound correct. 

Nightmare pulled his hand closer into view of his eye, and shoved himself to sit up with a little grunt. His bones ached again at the motion, but he ignored it in favor of looking at his hands in the low light. They both seemed untouched by the dark substance that had made up his body for the past seven years. In fact, they looked like they hadn’t been touched by any injuries at all since he’d acquired the apple. No cuts from catching Killer’s stray knives or blocking Horror’s axe swings, nothing that would even hint at him having been part of any training at all. The only sign of damage, for course, being the groove along his inner left palm. His bone has slowly, but surely, been stripped away in that location from his repeated practice with blood oaths as a youth. He’d nearly forgotten the mark was there at all. The scar hadn’t transferred to the god-like body the apple had given to him. 

Tentatively, he pulled up his sleeves just a bit and found the, now unfamiliar, gleam of fragile, thin bone hidden beneath the heavy fabric. He shivered at the invasive chill, but nonetheless dragged the covers back. Someone, likely Ccino, had removed his boots along the way. His feet were just as his hands, pure bone, not a hint of the negative magic left. There was likely none hidden under the rest of his wardrobe either. Entirely gone. 

He was entirely small.

By his assumption, and likely the conclusion Ccino had already confirmed to himself, Nightmare was now, physically, exactly as he was the morning of the coronation. A frightened, weak, untrained teenager. He was 13 again. 

“This isn’t-” good. He stopped himself.

Nightmare felt his soul pound in his chest for a moment as a realization struck him. As much as he felt young again, as much as sitting beside Ccino brought him calm, time hadn’t fallen back. Just his body. And, considering how slowly it felt he was chugging through realizations, maybe his mind had fallen behind again as well. 

He looked back to the end of the bed. 

Killer was stood there. Or, well, leaned. He had draped himself partially against one of the banisters which supported the dark cyan canopy above Nightmare’s bed. He was still grinning, though it had been toned down. He worried, for a moment. He couldn’t feel him still. He knew that look was often associated with contentedness from him. But what if he was wrong? What if Killer was only wearing a poker face, already aware that Nightmare had lost the ability to sense his lies- 

No, this was Killer. He was Nightmare’s first and most loyal knight. Ccino wouldn’t let him nearby, let alone inside the room, if he was planning anything nefarious. 

“Killer.” nightmare drew Killer’s attention, and the other perked up, though he’d already been staring, “What is the status of the others?” 

He watched as Killer stood up a bit straighter and chuckled to himself. 

“The others are well, my lord. We’ve been taking shifts ensuring this room stays secure, and going about business as usual. Horror and Dust took up Cross’ training the past two days, and we rescheduled Horror’s mission for two months from now, since we weren’t sure when you’d recover and didn’t want to have anyone too far from home.” Killer reported, his voice low, as though expecting someone to be listening in. 

Nightmare let the information roll through his skull for a few breaths. 

His knights had all stayed. They’d all still been in the training room when it happened, so they weren’t unaware of his… affliction. And. Days. Two days? Killer didn’t just add information like that for nothing. He’d been out for two entire days. Wow. So much for his meetings and shipment-collections. 

He felt himself frown in thought, before he caught himself and schooled his expression again. 

“And. I assume no one knows about… this. Aside from ourselves, Dust, Horror, and Cross?” He questioned, then.

Killer nodded smoothly, “Our most valuable team player came up with a cover. The rest of the castle believes you’re resting after overworking the past few months. Not a peep outside the grounds far as I can tell.” His hand gestured to Ccino, and Nightmare didn’t doubt that his head of house would be quick on his feet. After all, Nightmare had done similar things, tucking away after working on long and draining new laws or projects. “We threw folks off the scent who visited by letting Dust listen to them. Scary bastard got the information pretty fast, it’s in your study for when you’re feeling better, my Lord.” 

That was good. Nothing he’d have to worry about having missed, no tarnished reputation. 

He shivered again. It was still cold, even wrapped up in his heavy everyday clothes. 

There was much he had to catch up on, much he had to do. First of all being that he’d want to go back to the library, research the ritual. His mother had ruled for hundreds of years and those before her had centuries under their belts. Nightmare had seemingly been stripped of the magic. Only after seven years at that. He’d need answers. For himself, for those who trust him, for his people… Oh he was not looking forward to facing his people. 

Point was, this wasn’t normal. Never in their recorded history had a ruler lost the god magic. Maybe his corrupted appearance had always been a warning sign, a connection not made between himself and the apple? Maybe it was that Nim had been somehow tailoring the magic to Dream rather than him, so receiving a host that was incompatible it would only thrive for so long? Or perhaps it was that bloodshed which never happened. Whatever burning desire to kill which had driven him to near madness in those first moments, in the weeks after, maybe because he never fed it enough, the magic starved? He hadn’t gotten blood on his hands since that first year… 

“Understood. Thank you, Killer.” Nightmare praised his knight. 

He needed to get started. Make up for lost time. He could already feel the nerves of uncertainty starting to kick in.

“If you could, collect them? I want to speak to you all, and-” Nightmare’s voice fell short with the sound of a clearing throat. 

He paused and glanced back at the culprit. Ccino. 

Nightmare had slipped free of his hold at some point, now only their legs touching through the comforter. Ccino’s arms were crossed and he was watching Nightmare with a look the king knew all too well. It was a dissuading stare, one he knew meant ‘think about what you just said and try again’ without saying it out loud. This was the stare he’d received when he’d brought Killer back to the castle. And hired Dust. And every other questionable character roaming the halls. 

The king remained silent in the wake of Ccino’s stare, though he looked at him with what he hoped were the big, watery sockets he used to wield in his youth. Maybe one thing might be working in his favor from this bodily downgrade. 

Ccino seemed to give in first, letting out a gentle sigh. 

“My king, you are still in recovery, you just woke up from a very large change. The castle won't expect you for at least another two days, maybe longer. Your knights will be patient. Besides, you have a skull wound, and I do believe that if I don’t help you tend to it before Horror sees you again, he may be distressed.” Ccino explained, lifting one hand out to gently pet over the blind side of Nightmare’s skull. 

The king was frustrated to find that he let out a little squeak as Ccino’s feather-light touch caught on a crack he hadn’t even realized was there. He flinched down a bit, and Ccino retracted his hand like lightning. 

Nightmare noticed, but he didn’t think much of it, too occupied with reaching his own little hands up to touch the bottom of his dark socket and trail up out of his line of sight. It hurt, if felt like his skull was on fire and a headache split through his thoughts when he had seemingly traced too much of it. Near the top of his skull, a little fragment was misplaced, other cracks and crevices trailing from it. Ouch. 

Unlike his palm wound, he didn’t recall being so injured on his skull. Unless. Oh, right. How could he have forgotten? At the coronation, before the magic had fully bonded to him. The blow that had made him half-blind in the first place. He hadn’t realized the strike had been so deep. 

He focused again on Ccino, and saw how closely he was being watched. 

“You- You’re right.” Nightmare practically mewled, “Killer, disregard that request. Continue with what you’ve been doing since I became indisposed.” 

He didn’t have to look to the Knight, having heard a ‘Yes, m’lord’ from the end of the bed. 

“Then, we should get this wound cleaned.” Nightmare voiced. 

Ccino hummed. 

…

The water was warm. That he was grateful for. It seemed to chase away the chill of the room he’d left behind. 

The bath was connected through a doorway, of course, but he’d asked Killer to stand guard and ensure no one entered. He didn’t want anyone seeing him like this, least of all entirely nude. That would only end in disaster. 

It had been years since he’d taken a proper bath, the negativity never quite agreed with water, and yet Ccino had slipped into the routine as though it’d only been yesterday that he’d last done it. He started the water and collected soaps and scrubs and towels. Then he’d helped Nightmare out of bed, and walked with him to the bath. Locked the door behind them, and assisted Nightmare in removing his too-big layers. He was shaky still, with movements. It felt like he couldn’t carry his own weight anymore. 

Now, he sat submerged up to his chin in the clear, warm, water enjoying the weightlessness and trying to ignore the strangeness of looking at his own bones again. In some ways he knew this was him, but in others… 

“Nightmare, are you alright with me starting to clean your wound?” Ccino’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. When Night looked at him he continued briefly, “Horror said it might hurt, so if you need a break just tell me, alright? We can take as long as you need.” 

Night glanced to Ccino, and found that he’d, at some point, removed the apron Night had spotted on him earlier, as well as rolled up his sleeves, and removed his fur shawl. His eyelights met Nightmare’s, but he was pretty sure that they’d been examining his skull again. Based on how it had felt before, he didn’t doubt it’d probably hurt. 

“Yeah, okay.” He agreed quietly, leaning his back against the warmed edge of the tub. 

It was an inground tub, one seemingly carved into a smooth stone. It was far too big for him, especially now, but it might’ve fit his mother perfectly and given her room to stretch. She was a tall woman. Nightmare was curled nearest to one of the edges where ‘steps’ had been carved in. Ccino sat cross-legged just behind him on the ledge. 

He stayed still as Ccino scooped down beside him and cupped some of the water into a little bowl he had on-hand. Carefully, he poured it over Nightmare’s skull, moving one of his hand to make sure none of it went into his dark socket while he closed his other one. The warmth made him shover, but it was nice. He missed being able to feel warm. Maybe now he’d remember to light the hearth in the study more often. 

Next, he felt as Ccino must’ve grabbed a cloth, because he carefully slid it across the top of Nightmare’s skull. Just as his finger had, it snagged a few times, but Nightmare bit back the need to flinch. It was fine, he could handle it. This repeated a few more times, before more water poured over his skull. The repetition was calming. 

There was a pause, and then the silence of the bathroom was quietly filled with the beginning notes of a hum. Night knew that hum, it was the one that Ccino always hummed for him when he was stressed, or couldn’t sleep, or needed to relax. Of course, sometimes Ccino would hum on his own, too. When he was working, or when they were sitting in the study, or he was pleased with something. It was always a comfort. 

He figured it must’ve been to distract him, because a pressure invaded a portion of his skull towards where the big opening had been, and squinting his socket open revealed that Ccino had begun to actually work at the cracks left in his head. He had… some sort of brush, he thought, and scrubbed slowly, but with more force than anything previous. Sure, it hurt, but he didn’t want Ccino to stop, it’d better to get it all over with at once. 

The humming persisted, only pausing every once in a while for Ccino to check in with Night, but the young king always just nodded and asked him to keep going. 

Only when the wound was entirely clean did Ccino see to stop and let out a breath. 

“Alright, all done.” Ccino announced. 

If he’d been well, if he hadn’t had such an injury, Night probably would’ve let himself sink fully under the water and sit there for a few breaths. That would’ve been nice. 

“Thank you, Ccino.” He said instead. 

His skull still throbbed in protest from the cleaning, Ccino probably dislodged particles that had been in place for seven years just waiting to cause him trouble. Despite that, he shifted so that he could prop his arms up and out of the water, to look at Ccino. 

His head of house was already going about cleaning his supplies, putting them away all neat and tidy. He didn’t say anything, but when he caught Nightmare looking at him, he gave a soft smile.

Ccino stood to go return the items to their rightful place in the cabinet, leaving only a washcloth, soap, and several warm towels in his wake. 

Nightmare took up the washcloth and soap, taking the initiative to start scrubbing away at his own bones. This scenario felt like something straight out of. Well. Before. Before he found the scroll, before the ritual, before the coronation, before sending Dream away, before his rule, before the knights, before all of it. It was as though, in all that time, so little had changed. 

“Ccino?” Nightmare spoke up, the other skeleton was still on the other side of the room. He only continued when he heard a quiet ‘yes, my king?’ from across the space. “Ccino. I- I don’t know- I don’t know what I’ll do now.” 

He hadn’t allowed himself to have the thoughts before, to doubt himself, but the truth was blaring. He was young again. All the magic that had provided him security, that had been able to earn him a face of fear and power, that had drawn so many to respect him… it was all gone. He would do research, but he doubted he could get it back. The magic was provided by his mother’s soul, and well, he was sure that it was no longer with him. Whatever magic he’d assessed to have lost had to be gone. Long, long gone. 

And with the loss of the magic would come the loss of his status, and the loss of his status would mean the loss of everything. One well-placed sword-strike or arrow-bolt could end his life, and the entire kingdom would fall to the wayside in his wake. Of course, he believed in his people to maintain best they could, but he hadn’t even finalized his revisions. The farms were still being subsidized by shipments out of kingdom, the funding for restoration after the floods and storms wasn’t anywhere near finished, and he had no heir or next of kin to pass the throne to… except for Dream. And he loved his twin dearly, but he was sure his brother would seek to undo all his work, would dismiss those he cares for, would reinstate the blood-magic. It would leave way for slave contracts and sacrifices to arise again. 

“What do you mean by that?” Ccino asked, crossing the space back to him. Had he spaced out?

Nightmare returned to vigorously scrubbing at his neck and shoulders, using it as an excuse to partially turn away from Ccino’s gaze. 

“Everyone has followed me because I could promise protection, safety, a new life. My plans are not finished yet, and I’m weak now. Anyone who were to see me would see me as weak, and an easy target. I-” He paused a second, “I worry I won’t survive to be able to see my promises through. My- my state will only put people in danger. Put you in danger.” He voiced. 

He would have died in those first few weeks if not for the might of his magic. It worked as a repellent enough that assassins and rebels learned to not even go near him. Without that…

“My king, are you doubting the skill of your Knights?” 

Ccino’s question caught him off-guard, enough-so that he shot his skull around to look at him. What did he mean?

“No, they are highly skilled and powerful.” Nightmare answered.

Ccino was watching him with a stern expression, had he said something wrong? 

“Your Knights have been trained, by you, to do two missions. Their second is to serve and assist this kingdom. The first, which you seem to have forgotten, is to protect you.” Ccino explained, tone even. “Until now, you’ve simply been strong enough that they haven’t had the chance to show you just how often they’re looking out for your wellbeing.” 

Nightmare felt foolish as he stared at Ccino. He couldn’t muster any words, his mind was racing to figure out if he was right. 

“You know. He likely won’t say anything, so as to not wound your pride, but when I got to the training room after your collapse? Killer had you tucked in his arms, holding you close. The only reason he let go, I think, is because I showed up and you wanted to get to me.” Ccino explained, and Nightmare felt heat rush to his skull. He remembered collapsing, and Killer caught him, but Ccino was right, he hadn’t ever touched the floor. “And I was there to witness as your other knights agreed to stay. To continue to train, and work, and wait for you to wake up. Even Cross, and he’s hardly been here a fraction of the time the others have.” 

Ccino let out a tired sigh, and Nightmare stared at him, wide-eyed. “My point is, my king, that they have all seen you. As I see it, they plan to abide by their oaths, and their own morals, to continue to serve you. Not your magic, but you. So, at least for their honors, don’t dismiss them so readily.” 

Ccino moved again to sit at the edge of the bath, and Nightmare hesitantly sat his washcloth back on the edge. A sniffle escaped him as he let Ccino’s words sink in. He was right, of course. Without his being awake, any of them could have simply left, no harm no foul. And yet Killer was outside the bathroom door right this moment, the others working their hardest to keep up appearances. 

He sniffled again, and felt tears attempting to well in his sockets. 

“Y-you’re right, Ccino.” Night muttered, but, “You won’t leave, right?” 

He wished, a part of him at least, that Ccino would. He’d stayed here in this place that tormented him for so long. He’d stayed by Nightmare’s side through it all. But now Nightmare couldn’t protect him. Couldn’t keep him safe. He wasn’t even an adult anymore, he was young and inexperienced again, and- He knew he wanted Ccino close, though. Moments like this, selfishly, he needed. Especially now.

“My Nightmare.” He was only a bit startled as Ccino shifted and cupped his hands around the sides of Nightmare’s skull, careful of his newly revealed injury. He allowed himself to be dragged closer to the edge where Ccino was sat. “You know my answer. I have no plans to leave your side. Not back then, and especially not now. I love you too much to ever think of leaving.” And Ccino gently brought his skull down to nuzzle his nose against the top of Nightmare’s skull. 

The little king sniffled again and felt the tears fall from his good socket. He leaned his skull closer to Ccino’s legs and pressed against the soft fabric of his pants leg. Ccino always knew just what to say to him. 

“Promise- promise me something?” He piped up, socket closed, trying to stop the flow of tears. 

Ccino hummed in question.

“Promise you’ll tell me? If you’re upset, or sad, or mad? I- I can’t just know anymore, and I don’t want to hurt you because I don’t notice.” The again was silent. They both knew that Nightmare had been an ignorant child. That Ccino was good at hiding what he really felt. 

“I promise you, Nightmare. I will tell you.” He agreed.

…

“My lord!” Killer greeted enthusiastically when Nightmare trailed Ccino out of the bathroom. 

The knight had been standing standing in the space beside the door just next to the bed, and Nightmare looked to him as he exited. 

He realized, suddenly, that Killer was taller than him. 

Oh. That would take some getting used-to.

“My lord, do I have something on my face?” Killer asked, moving his sleeve to drag across his cheeks. 

Night realized, with a start, that he must’ve lost his poker-face along with the negativity which used to engulf his expression. He blinked, and watched as Killer, very much intentionally, smeared the magic which fell from his sockets across the lower half on his face. His grin didn’t fade.

“Well, you didn’t.” Nightmare responded almost out of habit, furrowing his brow. He tried to ignore the fact that he had to reach up in order to plant his hands on other side of Killer’s skull. It only occurred to him in a moment that he no longer had his tendrils to wipe away the excess markings like he would normally do. “Hold still.” Nightmare insisted, even though Killer hadn’t moved an inch. 

Instead of tendrils, Nightmare used one of his sleeves, pulling the baggy fabric up and over his fingers, to scrub at the still-fresh magic and wipe it away. It hardly took a few second, but he huff in content when he deemed it a job well-done and released Killer’s skull. The way the other straightened up and his sockets turned to crescents alongside his grin made Nightmare smile a bit to himself too, before he quickly turned away. 

Only when he saw Ccino standing near his desk with a fond smile did it occur to him that what he’d done must’ve looked silly now. Actually, he used to do it all the time without a second thought. Had Killer done that on purpose? Well, he usually did it on purpose, but. Whatever. Don’t overthink it! 

Nightmare quickly started to walk away, moving himself with wobbling steps towards his desk where Ccino had stood. 

He was still uneven on his legs, strides connecting with the ground much more quickly than he was used to, but he’d manage okay. The warm water had helped to loosen his sore magic and now only a dull ache persisted from the wounds in his skull. 

He was silent as he popped up onto the stool sat before it and pulled open the main drawer, just below where he would normally be writing. The drawer itself was full of papers, organized and filed away, several being scrapped versions of the newest laws he’d put into place. He moved those aside, lifting them onto his desk, before digging his phalanges beneath a piece of wood in the bottom. Secret pockets in drawers were nothing special, Nightmare had found there was one in about every drawer in the castle with any significant purpose, and so he rarely used them for anything actually important. Except for this one. 

He had to take a breath as he stared at the object before him, and lifted it up with careful hands so that the other two could see it. 

A mask. One carved out of sacred wood, made for him when he was only five. One of a pair, the other far off, safe in another kingdom with his twin. 

This one was flat, shaped like the curious, round face of a barn-owl, the eye-holes round and wide. The wood was an unnatural ashy gray, slightly tinged purple from years and years of exposure to his magic. IOn either side sat a thick, satin ribbon, which would easily support the weight when it was tied around the back of his skull. 

Nightmare, honestly, had never intended to bring this relic back out. It hadn’t fit his skull as an adult, and so he’d resorted to hiding it away in storage. A relic of an era behind him. And yet, here it was, back in his hands again. No doubt it would fit his skull just as perfectly as it had the day of the ritual, when he’d finally grown into it. 

“I’ll wear this, I think, when I return to my duties.” He voiced to no-one in particular, before turning to Ccino, “Would you do the honors?” He asked, lifting the wood to his skull.

Ccino was quiet as he stepped around and took up the soft purple ribbons. Ccino knew just how secure it needed to be, and we evidently careful of his wound. Nightmare knew when he was finished, and hopped off the stool. 

A mirror in the far corner of his room was his goal, and when he stood in front of it, he felt small. The clothes were baggy, his body thin and scrawny, his stature almost hunched. Had he always looked so scared as a kid? Maybe that was why Ccino had always stayed nearer to him than Dream. Most strikingly, his mask, and his socket, looked identical to the last time he remembered looking in a mirror like this. Aside from his dark socket, of course. 

No one had directly told him so, but they had been right to keep him inside, to not take him to the healers. He was probably about half his normal height with his bare feet against the carpet covering the stone floor. He looked tired. His magic wasn’t even right anymore. 

He laughed, quietly, at the sight.

“It looks like I’ll have to do some training of my own.” he voiced, already feeling tired at the prospect as he moved to untie his mask. 

By the time it slipped into his free hand, Ccino was at his side, and Nightmare passed it off to him to hold. He got closer to the mirror now, to get a better look at his skull. The light was still dim, but being more awake his magic was working to make up the difference. 

“Training, my Lord?” Killer questioned curiously from somewhere behind him.

Nightmare nodded to himself, prodding at one of the cracks which trailed down to his socket. He hissed before deciding not to touch them again, just look. 

“Yes. Not for combat, though. To alter my magic signature and appearance. King Nightmare doesn’t have purple magic, after all.” He explained, “I think if I tried to spar with any of you now I would be tagged in half a second.” 

He hoped his tone wasn’t too weary as he admitted it. 

Killer laughed from behind him, “I don’t know, I think you’d make it at least a minute if you convinced Cross to a dueling-spar.” He joked.

It was a tease. Nightmare laughed in agreement, feeling a bit lighter. It must’ve been obvious to his knight that his physical condition was poor, and Killer had been there to watch Nightmare learn to fight as they both trained together. He didn’t seem distressed that Night wasn’t much of a combatant anymore. 

He could do this. He could do this. He just… needed some time, was all. Just like before.