#I FINALLY MANAGED TO DRAW A GOOD DOCTOR AND NOW HE'S GONE

[imaginemalereader]

Anonymous request: Imagine dating Will and him taking care of you when you get sick

"Will, honestly, it's just," you paused as you felt a sneeze coming on, "a cold." You managed to finish your sentence before sneezing loudly.

Will was clearly hearing none of your protests. He had gone full doctor mode, in spite of the fact that you were so certain this was nothing more than the common cold.

He pressed his hand to your forehead, for probably the fifth time in the last hour.

"Your temp's a little elevated." He said. You could have sworn he was making a chart on his phone.

"Maybe my head's warm because you keep touching it." You retorted.

Will gave you a look. The head tilt, raised eyebrow look that was clearly meant to ask 'which one of us has a medical degree?' It was cute, albeit slightly condescending, not that you could really mind.

"Okay, okay." You relented a little before reaching out and holding his hand. "Will," you said, drawing his attention and finally getting him to look you in the eyes as a partner and not as a doctor, "I appreciate you taking care of me, but you can relax a little. I promise."

Will searched your eyes before giving that cute little smile of his and nodding a little.

"I'll make you a deal," he said, "you let me take your temperature, get a new box of tissues out here, and get you some cough drops,"

"This better have a good deal for me at the end." You interrupted as he listed what he wanted to do. He smiled again before continuing.

"Then you can pick whatever show you want to watch, and I will sit here on the couch with you and offer no medical advice unless you ask for it."

That was a pretty tempting deal. Will had needed to give you some space the first day you were sick since he had to work and he couldn't very well be bringing a cold into the ED. But, he had tomorrow off and was not apparently willing to risk the germs.

"You've got yourself a deal." You said decisively.

"Good. Don't go anywhere." He said, standing up to go get his supplies.

"Uh-huh, right. I'm a real Usain Bolt right now." You said, looking down at your sprawled position on the couch, wrapped comfortably and messily in a blanket or possibly two (you weren't sure at this point).

Will chuckled at your response as he walked away. He did what seemed to be a larger lap of the apartment than necessary but he was soon back with the new tissues, a whole bag of cough drops, a thermometer, and something he was hiding behind his back.

"Will, what's that?" You asked.

"Don't worry about it." He said with a little smirk. "Now open up."

Your curiosity piqued, there was nothing to do but comply at the moment. You opened your mouth and Will put the thermometer in, letting you hold it in place. Shortly, it beeped and Will took it out to read.

"99.1." He said. "I guess it isn't that elevated."

"See, told you."

"You did, you were right." He conceded, much to your pleasure.

"So, are you going to show me what it is you're hiding?" You asked.

Will brought his hand forward as he sat down on the couch next to you, offering you a box of your favorite crackers he must have grabbed from the pantry.

"I know you haven't been that hungry, but I thought you could use a snack."

You smiled up at him gratefully. It was really sweet that he'd thought of that actually. And given that you hadn't been off the couch in a few hours, you were in fact in need of some food.

"Aw, thanks Will." You said, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "You're a good boyfriend."

"So are you." He said, kissing your forehead. "But you do make a terrible patient."

"Yeah well I hear you do too."

Will shook his head, even though he couldn't deny it and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close to him. Maybe he was a little overly cautious with you, but it was always better to be safe than sorry, especially when it came to you. It wasn't like he could let his medical skills go to waste, even if you did have something as minor as a cold.

[ariathelamia]

Hellhound HRT - Day -???

Little note at the start: Hellhound HRT is being written by Arynia, who is a alter... the only alter in this system ^^ Since she is unable to front so far, we decided to have her write the story~ well she tells me what to write and i do that~ Don't worry, Lamia HRT is going to continue! It's just a bit of a drawing rut on my end^^..

Thank you @dawning-mars for the cameo and help writing this~ it was a lot of fun working with you!! Anyway~ on to the story!!

“That FUCKING asshole!” 

I shout while kicking the empty can of soda down the alleyway, hitting a trash can and accidentally spooking the Racoon that was currently inside of it away..

I just happened to leave the clinic of this gigantic egotistical asshole doctor Erian, my tail all the way along my back and fur all over the place. Shit, getting ahead of myself here.

‘Sup, Names Arynia, but people just call me Nia. I’ve been on Wolf HRT for a while… probably what.. 4 to 5 months now? Well let me just paint a picture. Think about an average height punk girl, with a body mostly covered in a mix of orange and gray fur… Got a nice long undercut for hair, and an otherwise still pretty human face, if you discount the slight elongation that would become my snout one day.  Got me a pretty neat tail though! Doctor was quite surprised when he saw it, usually they don’t get that tall so quickly? I guess I lucked out on that one. Legs are still humanoid though… no signs of paws yet… they do ache a little but i guess i traded the Tail growth for the leg restructuring.. Well none of this matters now cause that fucker just cut me off the meds anyway because i accidentally let slip that “being a normal wolf might not be as fulfilling as i thought… that i wanted something a little… extra.”... Guess that was enough for that idiot asshole bastard to say “If you are not happy with the current progress then continuing from here on out won’t be in your best interest.” And something about coming back when i know what i actually want and if this is the right thing and- URGH!! I should have kept my mouth shut but that's just not my style… 

Anyway back to the here and now. Feeling kinda bad for the Racoon… well can’t say sorry now that it’s gone. But what the fuck do i do now? Well first things first, checking the messages… Lot’s o’ new people sending in their first dosage posts… pretty neat. Some new faces joined the support group-... ah shit gotta make the news that i probably gotta leave now.. since i don’t really have an ongoing prescription anymore… ACTUALLY- maybe someone has an idea what to do… yeah thats a better outlook, after all that asshole Theodore isn’t the only doc around. 

I ended up sending a lengthy text in the vent section about my situation.. At first people sent some pleasantries but then also some neat ideas on where to go. I did mention my wish for something more… extravagant and low and behold, someone heard of a library in Hypercity that I should check out. Something about a Mysterious worker there that spooked some customers away with her… “monstry aura”? Sounds neat. Just gotta find the place.

Good thing the Maps app on the phone works in Hyper City.. otherwise this place would become a maze… It’s been neat just exploring new areas though, seeing all kinds of people on different stages in their HRT. Cats… Bats… a freaking DRAGON… pretty sure saw some cyborg too but not sure if that’s HRT or just them wearing prosthetics.. either way looked pretty neat. Ever since this stuff hit the market, and more people managed to grab the formula and distribute it, new kinda therians pop out by the day. Good thing I got a spot in that support group when they still had any. Although things do be a bit hectic in the chats.. but that’s alright. Anything major and important is learned in the group sessions anyway.

After another half an hour of walking and listening to the instructions on my phone, I finally made it to the library…  Pretty normal looking place from the outside if you think about the worker here that everyone is making mysteries of is apparently supposed to be some kinda… space monster.. though the descriptions do shift from mention to mention. Anyway I decided it’s enough waiting around… time to go in.

The SECOND I stepped into the lobby, my instincts fired alarm signals. I don’t know how to interpret that but god damn, my fur was standing upright and my ears clenched backwards. What the fuck is going on? Despite my body telling me to run, I go forward… this wolf ain’t no quitter i tell you that! My hand slowly reaches for the bell at the reception, after three deep breaths I finally manage to ring it. The body is making one last attempt to try to make me run away, now that I have given away my position to whatever predator it was so afraid of. But I won't. I gotta know what the hell this place is about now.

As the bell rings, the library quickly goes cold. The lights seem to be weaker, trying to fight against a layer of darkness that wasn’t present before the ring. The air is heavy and the sounds of footsteps can be heard from book stacks. Through the Darkness emit 5 bright eyes, their pinkish purple hues fluctuate and pulse. 

“Hello Deary, Welcome to the Thayer Library. My name is Mars, how can I help you?” 

Her voice vibrates with an unnatural distortion. Emerging into view is a 7 foot tall creature. Her skin is an unsaturated purple that resembles that of a shark's skin. She wears a black 50’s style dress with a ribbon tied at her waist. A large black sun hat covers a portion of her feature lacking face.

Quite the contrast in style compared to my black tank top, skinny jeans with ripped sides and black and white sneakers…

Mars passes me, walking back to the front desk. She looks down and gives me a monstrously happy grin. 

I take a moment to take in this surreal sight… I’ve seen my fair share of therians and otherkin before… Hell, one of my friends is a freakin’ Lamia… but THIS?! This is something entirely different. Feel like I just got transported into a whole different world, even though my actual position did not change…

“Uhm- name’s Arynia.. I was told this place could help me out with a predicament I found myself in. You see i uh-... just got cut off from my HRT for wanting something more… “Special” than a normal wolf and uh-... yeah-... here I am. Is there anyone you can introduce me to? Or how does this work?...” 

I stop myself from just babbling on and wait with baited breath for the answer of Mars. Trying to figure out WHAT kind of otherkin she is…

“Hm, what exactly do you mean by ‘special’?” She asked, looking me over and giving an inquisitive glare. She didn’t have pupils to track, but the way her brows shifted and glared. I felt myself being scrutinized, like I was being dissected. I struggled to find the words, the eye on her forehead looked deeper than the rest. It’s unblinking resolve pierces through me to my very being. I felt afraid, angered, lost. She must’ve noticed how I felt as she reached to the lid of her hat and pulled it down to cover the fifth eye.

I looked at her with an unsure expression… What DID i mean by that? God, his words about being not sure what I even wanted came back to my head… I didn’t want to be just a wolf… although being a Wolf isn’t bad I just needed something more… “... demonic…”

I suddenly said quietly.. my own thoughts bubbling out of my mouth involuntarily.

“Not… like a demon-demon but like… I don't know… a Demon Wolf? Fur that is almost like smoke but also… solid? ... heat that burns in my chest…

That kinda special…”

Mars' expression changes and sits down at her computer. As her attention turned to the screen I felt a weight ease off me. I nervously watched as the being before me tapped away on her computer. As she typed up something she looked up.

“I think I understand” 

Mars says, not looking up from the computer screen.

“There are ways to be… ethereal, cosmic, existing both in the mortal realm and the outer realms. Technically speaking, what you’re asking fits the description of the Abrahamic Hellhound. But I feel that’s not what you're looking for. It’s hard to explain the unexplainable… trust me..”

Mars hits the enter button as she looks back up at me. A kinder smile on her face as she looked for my response. The pressure of her presence once more weighed down on me as I stumbled to respond.

I scratch the back of my head and nod. 

“Y-yeah. Kinda hard to find something that describes the kind of thing I am looking for. A Hellhound sounds not bad, maybe some kinda different version! Maybe something with a bit more… fur hehe.. I guess you would know what it’s like. I don’t want to sound mean but I have never seen anything like you either.”

“Well my transition is a bit… different than the rest.. it’s hard to explain and it’s harder to understand. Frankly I’m still trying to figure out what I am and what’s going on…”

I notice her grab something from behind their desk. She looks down as I hear her scribble something out before standing up once more.

“I think I have something of interest to you, within the archives we have a selection of old reproductions from the Library of Alexandria. It was there where I found a way to become what I am. I believe I know something in the vault that might help you”.

She walked past me, her back appendages stretching outward and then falling back to a rest state. Her tail sways as she walks past the stacks and to a glass door saying ‘Employees Only’.

“Stay here and I’ll have the item brought down for you, feel free to look around while I’m gone.”

It was then that I first noticed how freaking exhausted I was from all the tension that was constantly in my body. I slumped against the desk and felt like I could breathe normally for the first time in my life, even when I didn't notice me breathing abnormally before. This entire situation is beginning to make me feel… somewhat… no… not somewhat.. REALLY excited! When I first started my transition into a Wolf, I felt a slight excitement with it.. not nearly as strong as it is now.  I was sure, this is it! I am at the right place, whatever comes next is what I really wanted!! 

I didn’t start looking around, my feet were almost stuck to the ground, my body still somewhat on edge. My fur definitely needed a brush now with how much it keeps shifting from the adrenaline that keeps shooting through my body in waves. I can’t wait to see what Mars is going to bring back from that employee section… figures that the good stuff is being held back from the general public but hey, who am i to complain. It’s not like the things are not being used for others outside of the employees, guess there is a genuine reason.. if it is able to “produce” beings like Mars, maybe that’s for the better to keep it somewhat detained.

There’s a ding from behind the door and the sound of something rolling. As the employee door unlocks Mars steps out, pushing along a small cart. The second she’s within eyesight I feel her presence once more as I find myself frozen with anxiety. 

“Here we are, the Alexandria Chronicles.”

She says with a pleased chirp. She sets the book between two angled pieces of foam. She gently flips through the pages, being extra careful with her sharpened talons. She settles on a page with incantation circles and text written in some ancient language. She moves her head and runs her claw along the text before turning back to me.

“Arynia, what I have here is a book that contains the remnants of the Library to Alexandria. Within these pages contain the history of the old gods, the ones who continue to influence us in secret. If you want to be like me, you will be made aware of these old ones. You will endure immeasurable pain and psychosis. I say this not to scare you, but to warn you.. to prepare you..”

Mars ushers me forward with her hand. I feel myself walk towards her, but not on my own volition. I approach the book, seeing the inscriptions up close and find the page overwhelming with information. 

“Do you have any questions?”

I take a long look at the writing. Nothing I could ever understand… but still i feel the weight of Mars’s words on my entire body. “I was ready for the pain of the HRT. I saw how much it weighed down on people I care about so that point I am sure is not going to hold me back. As for these old ones…” I took a determined look at Mars, as much as I felt afraid when simply in her presence… There was also the resolve to continue.

“I guess my only question would be when we can start. I can worry about the rest later. Right now my heart tells me that this is the right thing for me.”

Mars smiles and gestures back to the book, her clawed finger gently pointing at a scribble written in the margins. The blurb appears to be an old attempt at translating the chant. The combination of consonants and vowels made it difficult to read. 

“If you need assistance, never be shy to reach out. With that said, let’s begin”.

I nod, but then raise an eyebrow. “So-  I just read out the stuff written on the page?”

“We’ll need to set up a ritual circle, but try reciting this till you feel confident. I’ll get the circle set up.”

Mars steps back and walks to the front door. I hear the latching of the front doors and her footsteps walking to the front desk. I turn my attention back to the few lines of translated text. I reread the text a few times working on the exotic letter combinations. Once confident I try saying it out loud in a hush tone. Tripping over a few words but finding it not as difficult as I initially thought. 

Would have never thought I would end up in a library, practicing ancient texts in order to get some medicine that turns me into a hellhound! Not to mention this being connected to eldritch gods? Wonder if i should give this maybe some more thought… but then again.. it’s this or going to that asshole Erian and beg him to put me back on the hrt… yeah no this is definitely the better option. 

I ended up practicing for, what felt like an hour, managing to no longer stumble over the words. I pick up the book, still mumbling the text while walking to where Mars is probably either still setting up, or is waiting for me. 

I reached a clearing and found a large summoning circle matching the one from the book. Another circle filled the center as well as a ring of the ancient language. She smiled at me as she stood and handed me a candle. 

“Set this where you like and light it. Once that’s done we’ll be ready”.

I nodded and turned away as I was handed a candle and a match. My mind raced with thoughts and feelings. I couldn’t stop contemplating if this was the right choice. If this would truly make me a hellhound. I felt drawn to a certain part of the circle and placed the candle. As I lit it I felt the air shift, my breath could be seen and as I turned back Mars sat just outside the circle with the book. She ushered me forward and like earlier I felt myself moving at her command. I kneeled next to her and looked at the book, sweat racing down my cheek as Mars placed a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s ok hun, I’ll be here to help you”.

I felt comforted by that and gave a gentle smile. I turned down to the book, nervously grabbing the edges and looking back at the translation. I grew worried that I would mess this up, that I flub the pronunciation. I felt like I was drowning and gasped for the biggest breath I’ve ever taken. And then, I began reading.

“Ph’nglui Mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh.. Wgah’nagl fhta-“

I felt a pit in my stomach, the last syllable seemed impossible to say, the ease and confidence was gone. Now I fought against some external force to finish the words.

“FHTAGN!!!!”

Then there was a flash, my eyes began to tear up as I felt a rush of surging energy. The circle illuminated, the ground shook, I felt my face being pulled in all directions. I wanted to shut my eyes but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but witness waves of images and voices. My vision began to split, I could see more than just the library. I could see pillars, a cracking moon, a hall draped with yellow banners. These images flooded my mind and soul and then nothing. I was floating in a vast void, I felt a moment of ease before the realm began splitting, an eye larger than anything I’ve ever witnessed glared at me… through me? I tried avoiding its gaze, but I wasn't able to… I tried to speak up but my instincts clenched my mouth shut. 

I felt another rush as I was pulled away and then, finally, I blinked. My eyes celebrated the release of the tension as they began to refocus. I felt control regain in my mind and arms as I reached up and wiped the tears. I took a moment to recover, my mind still reeling from what I witnessed.

“Harsh, isn’t it?”

I turned to see Mars who looked relieved. She smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. 

“You seemed to handle that very well. It’s something to have every sense we have to be overwhelmed. It’s crippling, and when we have that control it feels so foreign..”

Mars reached for the now closed book and took it in her arms. She cradled it like a child and stood up and offered me a hand. I wasn’t sure I could stand yet, my legs felt like they were still trembling. I could tell Mars read my expression as she pulled her hand away. 

“Sorry, why don’t you relax a bit while I get this all cleaned up.”

I nod to the best of my ability. Still trying to come to terms with what just happened. My eyes went from Mars towards the ground as my mind tried to make sure that I was back on earth… and not in whatever place I was before… It is at this very moment I start to realize what I just signed myself up for. And the fact settles in that this is not going to be the last time my very foundation of reality is going to be shaken. I look up at Mars one more time.

“Di-” I cough.. damn spit must have gotten in my throat at some point…

“Did it work?”

Mars turns her attention to the center of the circle and sees a small orange bottle. And smiles and turns back to me and nods.

“It did, welcome to family”

I looked back to the center of the circle when Mars did, turning back shortly after with a smile. 

“Thanks~ I guess I’ll be visiting this place more often now~” 

I slowly stand up, my legs still shaking from the ordeal and pick up that small orange pill bottle. It has my name on it… hades-lupusitine… bit on the nose name but hey, ain’t gonna complain as long as it does the job. The name of the prescribing doc was left blank though… then again that makes sense… don’t think you can fit whatever that eyeball's name was on the small tag of a pill bottle… IF that was the one that heard my call from the ritual… 1-0-1… so guess two of them a day… mornings and evenings huh?

I turn back to Mars with a smile as big as I can manage, and a wagging tail swishing behind me.. 

“Thank you so goddamn much for all of this Mars!” She smiled back at me. No more words needed to be spoken… not that I was really able to speak much after that mental strain anyway.. She kindly walked me out of the Library after putting the book back where it was safe. We waved each other goodbye, promising to stay in touch. I took my walk home, caressing the small pill bottle in my Jeans pocket and just itching to take the first pill in the evening. I just hope the next cosmic horrors at least knock first…  

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Definitely check out Mars's Eldritch HRT series!!

[timotey]

Ficlet: Clock Ticking

The Sign. Phaya/Tharn. Missing scene from ep 12. Unbeta'd.

Finally alone, Tharn allows himself to fall apart.

(A short missing scene, inspired by sad Tharn.)

-*-*-

Tharn hugs his grandma and closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself rest in her arms for one last time, soaking up her warmth, her love for him. He’s so glad that he could give her this, justice for her son and her daughter-in-law, before the end. That he can leave her with this, at least.

In the end, though, reality comes rushing back as it is wont to do. Tharn opens his eyes, and pushing away from his grandmother, he regards her smiling face with a little smile of his own. It costs him a lot, this insignificant thing, but he wants her to remember him like that, even though on the inside, he’s crumbling.

Taking her hands in his, Tharn says softly, “I'll take a shower and then go to bed, alright? I’m really tired.” 

She nods, her eyes full of affection. “Alright, child. Goodnight.”

He leans closer and kisses her cheek lightly. “Goodnight, grandma.”

And goodbye.

Tharn gets up from the couch and on his way out of the sitting room, he passes Yai and Sand - he touches Sand’s arm and pats Yai’s back, trying to convey so much through those little touches, I love you and thank you and goodbye - and Phaya’s grandmother and his sister - he clasps his hands together and bows down to both, silently thanking them and entrusting Phaya back to them, asking them to take good care of him once Tharn is gone - and then Phaya himself…

Phaya, who's sitting on the couch next to his family, looks up at him with a concerned face and a question in his eyes, but Tharn only smiles - another pained little thing - and shakes his head, nothing to worry about, really, he’s trying to say. He rests his hand on Phaya’s shoulder for a moment, soaking up the warmth of Phaya’s touch when Phaya covers Tharn’s hand with his own briefly.

Then Tharn’s out of the room, in the hallway where he’s finally alone. He stops there, leaning with one hand against the wall, because his knees feel weak and he can’t seem to draw breath into his lungs. His world is falling apart around him and he’s shattering together with it. Mere hours from now, a brief moment of time, really, all this will be over.

Somehow, Tharn finds his way to his room where he takes off his clothes and throws them into the waste bin. He will never wear them again so there is no point in throwing them into the wash. After that he walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and steps into the shower.

And he then scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, trying to get rid of all the dirt and sweat and blood, of all the horrors of the last two days. He scrubs harder and harder until his skin is all red and tender but he can’t seem to stop. He just… he can’t stop. Because the remnants of the past events are still there, etched into his skin, into his mind. It’s all still there and it’s ugly, ugly, ugly.

He got Montree, he finally managed to bring justice to his father, to his parents, and this should be a glorious day, a happy day, because his family finally found peace. But he feels no joy. It’s all clouded and marred by Doctor Chalothon’s betrayal, by what the man - the Naga! - had done, to him and to his, over the years, by what he is forcing Tharn to do to keep his loved ones safe now. This is the moment when Tharn should have had it all - instead, he is left with nothing. And nobody knows. No one. Not even Phaya. Especially not Phaya.

Phaya…

Tharn’s knees give out and slowly he sinks down to the tiled floor of the shower stall. He pulls the foamy sponge to his chest, squeezing it hard, letting suds slide down his arm and his torso, as he curls in on himself, head bowed down low - and cries. He cries so hard, his tears mixing with the water beating down on him, he sobs so hard he has to press his free hand to his lips to stifle the harsh sounds escaping his mouth because nobody must know, nobody must hear, shh, keep quiet, keep quiet…

Tharn’s alone, finally, after two whole days, there’s no one around, no one can hear, no one can see - and so he allows himself to fall apart. He allows himself to cry for what he is losing, for his love that will never reach a true fulfillment in a long and happy life. He allows himself to grieve for a future that won’t ever be. 

And for Phaya who will be hurt, so hurt by Tharn’s disappearance. Because Tharn promised, he promised he would never leave Phaya. And he is going to break his promise in the worst way possible - without even saying goodbye. But there is no other choice, he knows that, not if he wants to keep Phaya safe. Because Phaya would never let him go, he would fight for him - and die for him. And Tharn can’t have that. Anything, anything but that.

Tharn cries and cries, till he has no tears left. His throat hurts and his chest feels so tight as if someone were squeezing his ribs, not letting enough oxygen into his body. He feels weak and lightheaded, sick to his stomach, and his heart hurts so badly he fears it might shatter. It feels like his whole life, his whole world just ended.

When he eventually lifts his head, though, and turns his face into the water raining down on him from overhead, letting it wash away all traces of his breakdown, there’s also acceptance. It seeps into his body slowly and reluctantly and it leaves him a little numb, drained and exhausted, but strangely calm. 

He was given a choice. A seemingly impossible choice, yes, but still a choice. And he chose. He chose the lesser of two evils for his loved ones, for Phaya. And now he will have to live with the consequences.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door. Phaya. “Hey, Tharn? You okay in there?” Worry. For him. Like always.

Tharn props himself up against the wall of the shower stall and gets up. His joints ache, his knees hurt and there’s a crick in his back but that’s okay. That’s fine. “Yeah,” he calls out. His voice is a little rough, though, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, coming.”

He turns off the taps.

Silence reigns.

And time is still running out.

[eurydicees]

My sister's doing a musical (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musical) and she's playing the main character (even though it's a guy)! She's singing all the time and I love it. I can't wait to see it. I'm visiting the theater more lately and I saw a horrible local production of Robin Hood last week which was absolutely hilarious. The cast consisted of 55 people??? What the fuck? Meanwhile I'm trying to take up a new hobby to do outside of work. And not just drawing or writing, I need to go somewhere where I actually meet other people. Not sure what to do yet. Tomorrow I'm baking a marshmallow cake for my grandparents so I have an excuse to visit them. My mother is depressed lately since her brother committed suicide but I finally managed to talk to her about it and last week she's FINALLY gone to the doctor and gotten meds. Not sure if they're working yet but at least we're talking about it now. My brother isn't pissed at me all the time anymore since he's found a way to cope with his anger issues. And he even seems quite happy lately, so that's good. At my job things are kind of shitty but at least many of my colleagues are also against the ridiculous things the management is trying to make us do. And there's always something to talk about. One of my colleagues has the prettiest fucking eyes I've ever seen so I like to see him every time. Next year the musical Hadestown is coming to our country so I can't wait to see that. That's all I can think of right now. I hope you can find things to enjoy and look forward to as well, even though we're living through some very strange times.

thank u for the life update!!! it seems like you're doing well overall and exciting things r happening, so i'm very happy for you<3

i love horrible local theatre, and a 55 person cast is genuinely a deranged choice. like im sorry but what. you're putting FIFTY FIVE people on one stage? how did you possibly make that work?????? and congrats to your sister for the lead role!!! i hope it goes well, and i'm rooting for her!

i'm also trying to find hobbies outside of work and of making art alone in my room.....lmk if you come up with anything lol i'm taking advice on that. i bought an embroidery kit and that's kinda fun, but it's not any better for my wrists than typing so much is tbh so idk if it's really a net win. really i need to socialize somehow. but where do you even start with that. how do you make friends as an adult.

marshmallow cake sounds so tasty...drop the recipe👀👀 ?

i'm so sorry to hear about your mother's brother, sending love to your family. i'm glad she's getting help though; and it's really good that your brother seems to be doing better as well. little big steps forward!

ough things at work being shitty suck but also there's nothing that will bond a group of people better than the common enemy of Upper Management(tm) lol so at least you've got that going for you. a pretty eyes colleague is very nice too :D

i hope you get to see hadestown!!!!! it's such a good show and it's 10000000% worth getting tickets for.

thanks so much for the ask, this did end up making me feel a little better :) sending u all the best!

[inblazes]

Dear Son, The only reason this letter must be finding you is that I am gone. Most likely dead and for that I apologize. Know that I wouldn't have left you or Kaeya if I could help it, if Miss Adelinde gave this to you would be a surprise, yet she had grown curious after some time. But apologies for what this box may hold within it. A lot of my past sits in here, along with this letter you are reading now.

With my Demise will come many a face coming to the door, some you may know some you may not - don't question them much as much as I know you will want to. The less you know the better, the less you answer their own questions too will be safer for you, Kaeya, and Mondstadt as a whole in the long run. As Calvery Captain you must put the people first, and your curiosity second. Even if you never receive the answers you wish to know.

What I can tell you, which must never leave this letter or your lips, is that The Doctor used to be my colleague. I used to be the Eleventh of the Fatui's Harbingers. Whether he has weaseled his way to killing me one way or another would make sense, if that is how it came to an end for me. Or that the .. Delusion had.

Don't use it. I only use it when I have to now, considering the damage it has already caused myself in the long term, the mistakes and destruction caused by myself with it on my hand since I was gifted the thing by Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, back in the day. If you can help it do not use it, you've your vision. That alone should be enough to help you protect those you need to, to help your brother perform the duties of Knights of Favonious.

I'm telling you all this as I've clearly had no time in your adulthood to explain this to you as much as I wanted to. It's been too dangerous, and becoming more so with the Fatui within the city as of late. More seem to grow comfortable within the city walls. Keep eyes on them. There's more I would've loved to disclose but ... I cannot. The view of Her should never find your back, if you can manage that much I think I would've done a good job in raising you --- or that Kaeya has the sense and wherewithal to pull you back from something so utterly suicidal.

Please know that i'm proud of you. Always have been. Since the moment I laid eyes on you I knew I couldn't remain where I was, your birth was something special and provided me the strength to leave and go against what I had helped built. You bring forth a type of Dawn with your smile that not many can.

I hope you can forgive the lies. The truth of what I have been attatched to before you. If you cannot I understand, but even if you curse my name in death know that I still love you and always will.

Be good.

Best regards,

Sire Crepus Ragnvindr, Master of the Dawn Winery.

For years, that letter had gone unread -- stashed away in a lockbox filled with the rest of Diluc's closest treasures. Seashells, jewellery, childhood drawings, letters, pressed flowers, paintings, and photographs of days long gone.

Like his father's funeral, he had never been ready to face it head-on: actively avoided it and refused to acknowledge its existence.

Out of sight, out of mind, so they say.

One day, the young master told himself ( when he was willing to try and move on and make peace with what had happened to their family ) he would read the final words that his father had left for him, and begin to try to heal from the pain of being bereft of his beloved parent.

Except that what he found within the contents of that letter deeply disturbed him. He couldn't have possibly seen it coming... And as he sat, ready to try and let go of the past as his eyes scrolled through every line of handwriting, he felt his heart break anew. Each and every wish his father had held for him, he'd heartbreakingly failed to achieve in one way or another.

Worse still came the news that Crepus was a Fatuus -- and not just some lowly pawn on the bottom rung of the ladder, but the Tsaritsa's former Eleventh. A colleague of Dottore's. It blindsided him similarly to Kaeya's confession on that fateful night, his hands feeling numb as he grips the letter in hand with force, wrinkling it at its edges.

He was the son of a Harbinger, and the shame that came with it was one so deep that he was instant in the action that he took to denounce that shameful stain upon their family name.

It had taken him so long to be able to look upon his father's belongings and feel something other than grief. Now that same hurt resurges all over again, coupled with disgust, as he abandons that accursed letter upon the surface of his desk to erase any trace of him from the manor's walls.

Diluc tears through the home like a whirlwind -- frantic in his efforts to tear down every painting, every photograph... Not even the family portrait was allowed to stay, clattering down to the ground as its frame was torn from the wall in an impulsive rage.

If that was the late master's legacy -- what the Ragnvindr clan represented in this day and age, then he didn't want it any longer.

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Darling and absolutely evil Phanie said they wanted the ending where sick Ron dies? Well here it is.

@aki-draws-things

Tw major character death! (Turned into all three of them dying…)

I’m no medical expert idk if the sickness I give Ron is even possible. Sooo take a little bit of non reality juice and have fun reading.

(You should know I cried while writing this.)

Lung infection that moved to the blood.

The doctors say he might not wake back up.

Tom left when they were told.

Chris just held onto Ron tighter.

That was hours ago.

Chris has cried so much he has no more tears. He feels a light tug to his hand. He shoots up to see Ron’s eyes open. “Hey pretty boy.”

Oh Chris was so wrong. He’s got lots of tears left. They’re starting right now. “Hey baby.”

“You’ve gotta take care of Tom. I since can’t. I know this sucks. It’s horrible. But it’ll be okay. You two have each other and Jake. Just remember to be patient. God Chris I’m so sorry.”

Chris lunges forward. He can’t stop himself, he grabs Ron into a hug. Can’t even kiss Ron due to the fear of it catching. “Stop it. You’re gonna be fine.”

Ron shakily brings a hand up to Chris’s back. “You’re not stupid baby. We both know this doesn’t get better. Now.” Ron shifts up a little with a serious look in his eyes. “I love you. But I need you to not die along with me. I love you more then anything but you’ve gotta live. Gotta get married to Tom if it’s allowed later. Gotta be the incredible dad to Jake you already are.”

Chris is sobbing. He’s got his hands curled in Ron’s hospital gown. “Please-”

Ron kisses his head. “No. I know you. You know I’m right. I’m dying. It’s okay. I’ll watch the three of you forever. Be happy with Tom.”

Chris nods. “Promise me.”

Chris shakes. “I can’t.” Ron squeezes his arm. “Promise.” Chris let’s out another sob. “Okay. I promise.”

Ron relaxes slightly, leans back into the pillows. “Good. I love you so much.” Chris decides he doesn’t care. He kisses Ron. Can’t live without doing it one final time. “I’ll love you forever.” Ron smiles at him. “Can you get Tommy? Wanna talk to him.”

Chris doesn’t have the heart to tell Ron he ran. “Course. I’ll be right back.”

When he goes to find a pay phone he almost trips over Tom. Tom who’s sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. “He wants to see me?” Chris goes on his knees. “Yeah. I’m gonna get Jake so he can say bye.” Tom shudders.

-

“Hey baby.”

Tom sits on the bed. He hesitates before curling next to Ron. “We need to talk.”

Tom shakes. “Alright.”

Ron looks down at him, he presses a kiss to Tom’s head before starting. “I’ve known you for years. I hate that I’m leaving you like this. Shouldn’t be this way but it’s happening. You can’t follow me to an early grave. It would kill Chris and Jake. Gotta stay with them. I know it’ll hurt. But you have to stay.”

Tom is gripping Ron’s arm so hard he’s afraid he’s going to break skin. “Stop. Stop it right now.”

“You’re brilliant. I’ve loved you since I was 13. That’s never going to change. You’ll always have me. Because I’ll be gone but I’ll watch all of you. I love you so much Tommy.”

Tom sobs. He spins around to look at Ron. He kisses Ron. Can’t help himself. “I don’t know how to live without you.” Ron brushes the hair out of his face. “It won’t be easy. But you’ll do it. Manage until you join me. But you’ve gotta love Chris as much as you love me.”

Tom so very gently smacks Ron. “I already do, I’d do anything for him and Jake. I just don’t know how to live without you.”

Ron shrugs. “We never thought we would need to. But you can do it. Marry Chris. Be the incredible dad to Jake. Be an incredible leader. I’ll be there watching. I’m so proud of you. I love you more then you’ll ever know.”

There’s a sob before an answer. “Fuck Ron I love you too. I’ll love you until I see you again.”

There’s a knock on the door. Chris leans his head in. “Can Jake and I come in?”

Ron smiles. “Course. I’ll always see my chickie.”

The small blond child races over to the bed. Jake climbs up. “Papa? You’re dying aren’t you.”

Ron nods. He watches as Chris and Tom hold each other behind Jake. “But it’ll be okay baby. Your dads love you more then you’ll ever be able to know. You’ve gotta know I love you more then anything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You made me a dad.” Ron cries for the first time that day. God he wishes he wasn’t leaving them. But he can’t stop the slow drag he feels.

“You be the best at whatever you want to do Jake. I’ll be watching. I’ll be there every step of the way. You’ll never be alone.”

Jake is crying. He doesn’t want his papa to go.

“But why can’t you stay.” Ron wipes Jake’s tears away. “Because I’ve done all I can here. I’ve gotta watch you from somewhere else now. Gonna love you forever and be there for everything.”

Chris is turned away. His hands are covering his mouth. He can’t watch this. Can’t watch Ron tell their kid he’s never coming home. He sobs.

Tom isn’t much better. He’s still watching. Knows how bad this is going to be.

“Papa can I sleep with you.”

Ron knows if he says yes he’s not waking back up. He used all that was left for these conversations. “Course Chickie. But you’ve gotta promise you know I love you.” Jake sniffs. “Course I know you love me. I love you!” Ron smiles at him. He pulls Jake closer and looks at Chris and Tom.

“I love you both. Thank you for the best life I could’ve ever dreamed up.” They both come over to the bed. They curl up on either side. “Love you Ron.” “Love you baby.”

—

He died three hours later.

Jake has to be pulled away.

Chris can’t cry.

Tom is uncontrollably sobbing.

—

When they all go home Jake sleeps in their bed for the rest of the summer. Tom promises to never fly again. He can’t. Won’t let himself. Chris refuses to go into fires. He quits his job, David follows right along with him.

-

When Jake joins the navy they’re so proud. But they know he did it for his papa not for himself. He loves planes. Desperately needs to be close to what his father did.

-

When gay marriage is legal they get married. They can’t stop crying. The court thinks it’s because they’re so happy. It’s really because there should be another man standing there.

-

Tom and Chris go to Ron’s grave every month.

He’s not actually buried there. Was cremated, they all wear necklaces with his ashes.

It’s been a long horrible few years. Chris got diagnosed with lung cancer. Fighting fires really fucks your lungs up. Tom is forgetting more and more.

Jake lost his leg in a plane crash. He retired early. Takes care of the two kids he has with Bradley.

They sit on the ground with their backs pressed against the grave. They’re holding hands.

“I miss him.”

There’s a small laugh.

“I do too. Wish he was here every day.”

“Thank you for an incredible life Tom. This was a fabulous life. I love you.”

“Thank you for always believing in me. For being there when I was horrible. I love you too.”

Suddenly they see a tall guy standing there before them.

“Hey you two.”

Chris sobs. He reaches up and is picked up. “God I missed you.”

Tom stands on his own. He wraps his arms around Ron’s waist.

“We sure about leaving Jake?” “He’ll be okay. He knows it’s time for us to go.”

They walk off together to watch over their kid. Hell their grandkids.

But at least now they’re all together again.

[the-ace-with-spades]

Life Balance Sunday

Still slowly crawling out of depression and trying to become an adult, so trying to write down my life balance every Sunday so I can look at it and be a bit proud of doing/overcoming things...

I also got such kind words from everyone, thank you ❤️

I just asked my GP if she's willing to prescribe my T and she said yes so I'm finally registered with a good GP practice

She also referred me to ADHD doctor so I might be getting back on meds within a year

I bought the sandwich maker! I made panini bread! And grilled cheese sandwiches!

Still haven't gone to the library to pay the fees but Thursday maybe?? It's more than £9 now but well

Came out to my grandma - she's confused but not hateful so we'll see

Still sick but only got the cough going for me - should be fine soon but not getting much sleep

Work is a bit overwhelming since I was left to finish training on my own with no guidance (everyone is too busy) but I'm slowly getting there. I'm now able to do bank shifts in the ER too so that's good

Talked to my manager about misgendering and she said she'll follow my lead. Gave me some options like talking to people one-on-one or doing an announcement during handover or sending a group email but I'm not sure yet

Broke up with my boyfriend (I think??) but he's still my bff so we'll see. It's a bit awkward rn since it was mutual, he's just not ready to come out to his family and I'm not going back into closet just so his dad could misgender me during the holidays

Kinda feel lonely still so I'll look for some support groups maybe. There's LGBT climbing group but I'm kinda nervous to join...

Bought the apple pencil too! So I might be able to draw again...

Things to buy: duvet, desk, new computer (can't make GIFs on this one or play the DCS... It's now almost five years old),

Will answer asks/replies/people chats/etc Thursday/Friday. I love you guys but social interactions are so draining 😞

Still don't know how to use discord but got an account now. Maybe will look for TGM servers??

I still like my work so much, I can't even describe how much, even if it doesn't pay that we'll yet and even though we're always short-staffed...

Got my first Thank You card from a patient. Never felt more appreciated in my life.

[chainedupgirlsblog]

Chapter 5: Memories

Tinn is having lunch with his colleague and friend, Mai. When once again one of the nurses runs toward them, this time she’s looking specifically for Tinn. 

“Dr. Jirawatthanakul! Someone is looking for you at the main emergency room!” She says agitated. 

Tinn looks at her confused. Someone is looking specifically for him? 

With his friend walking beside him, he heads to the emergency room. And when he gets there the nurse at the front desk points to a small room where they usually attend urgent cases. 

“I’ll be around. Call if you need me” his friend says when Tinn turns to face him still pretty confused. Tinn nods at him and walks to the room. 

When he enters the small space is a bit too crowded. There are two nurses at the entrance and more people can be seen behind the curtains on the resting section.

“Why do you think he insists on seeing Dr. Jirawatthanakul?” one of the nurses asks another one in a whisper, without noticing Tinn's presence yet. 

“He’s a famous person, you know how they tend to be… a bit excentric” the other nurse answers, as oblivious as the first one.

“I know, but does that mean they know each other?” the first one asks. Carry on with the conversation as if the patient and his companion were not only a few meters away from them.

“I heard they went to high school together…” the second nurse answers and the first one makes a surprised noise. 

That’s all it takes for Tinn to show up in front of the nurses, who look at him with a combination of surprise and mortification. Tinn doesn’t say anything and just walks past them with a clear idea of who the patient is and he’s not looking forward to it. 

At first, he had just a small suspicion of who the person might be, but the nurses’ words had just confirmed it. 

He steps further and is about to draw the curtain that divides the main area when he stops to pay attention to the conversion developing behind the curtain. It wasn’t his intention to peep on them but their conversation was being loud enough to draw his attention. 

“Why do you insist on seeing this specific doctor?” an angry voice can be heard from behind the curtain. 

“You don’t need to be here, Phi. I told you that I was good by myself,” a familiar voice answers, avoiding the main point of the question.

“I just want to make sure you don’t sneak out like last time. We still need to go see the producers, and this is taking forever…” the first voice of what seems to be an older man says and Tinn decides it’s time to announce his presence. 

“Good afternoon,” Tinn says drawing the curtain with a bit too much force, his voice sounds more deep than he expected, strained even. Instantly the pairs of eyes focus on him. The older man, as it confirms to be, seems equally relieved and annoyed to see him there. The other’s reaction is hidden from Tinn’s sight. 

“Finally,” the man says, apparently embarrassing the younger one. Tinn can tell by the body language, though he still doesn't have a full view of the other. “Doctor. We’ve been here for ages. Can you check this stubborn boy’s wound so we can finally—”

“Phi, could you both wait outside, please?” His patient says, referring to the older man and a third person, another middle-aged man Tinn just notices now. Is until that moment that Tinn gets a full glance of the boy sitting on the emergency bed, they share a look, as the older man looks at the two of them alternating his gaze from one to another.

“We don’t have time for that. Can you check him up, so we can leave? We have a meeting to attend.” The older man says, looking at Tinn with annoyance. 

“Stop with the attitude, please. Just wait outside,” Gun asks impatiently, fed up with the behavior of who Tinn assumes is his manager.

Tinn stands on a side, listening carefully to the exchange that is displayed between the two. It makes him feel sad to realize that Gun's relationship with his managers is still not the best. It feels in a way like everything they’ve gone through the past three years has been in vain. And that’s just, well… depressing.

The manager looks at the third person for support but this one looks at him back helplessly. Giving up the man says: 

“Okay, but make it quick, or else…”

“Just leave.” Gun cuts him off, surprising Tinn who can barely contain his proud expression at Gun's strict behavior towards his manager. Tinn busy himself putting the gloves on so the satisfaction on his face can't be noticed by the others.

“Sorry about that.” Gun apologizes once they’re left alone. 

“It’s alright,” Tinn answers with a sincere smile. “Were you looking for me? Is everything alright?” Tinn asks getting closer to the small bed where Gun remains seated. 

Tinn notices the way Gun’s body stiffens as he gets closer and he tries to remain calm and professional.  

“I… just… You’re the only doctor I know here… a-and… the only one I trust with this…” he says pointing with one of his fingers to the wound on his head. “Were you busy? I didn’t stop to think that you could’ve been busy. I’m sorry, I—” 

“It’s alright, Gun.” Tinn says stopping Gun’s rambling and grabbing the thermometer he adds, “I’m gonna check your vitals first, ok?”  To that Gun just nods and when Tinn gets closer Gun has to swallow the knot that has formed in his throat. 

Tinn takes his temperature first, and then he takes his respiration rate and last he takes his pulse and heart rate.

When Tinn is taking his heart rate, Gun can’t help but stare at his handsome face and get lost in it. Tinn’s so focused, that Gun has to tilt his head a little to be able to properly look at him. Tinn always has been breathtakingly handsome but after his return, he’s been looking even more handsome. His facial features have matured into a dangerous combination of gorgeous and extremely hot. Gun lets out a shaky breath when he feels Tinn's hands on him, measuring his heartbeat. 

“It’s faster than average” Tinn’s deep voice makes Gun almost jump on his seat. 

They’re close, too close for Gun’s sanity. 

I wonder why… Gun mutters to himself, stirring up a little to try to get rid of the anxious feeling. 

“Have you been feeling dizzy, or dazed lately?” Tinn asks putting back his stethoscope around his neck and grabbing Gun’s neck with both his hands. Gun only manages to shake his head slightly in response and Tinn frowns. “What about your head? Does it hurt?” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Gun manages to say, and looking intensely at Tinn he whispers, “But my heart does…” Tinn frowns at his answer and Gun realizes too late he has said it out loud. “I- I mean… I-” he tries to cover it but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna check your wound, now,” Tinn says, propussely ignoring Gun’s attempts to fix what he had said. 

They fall into an awkward silence and Gun takes his chance to silently stare at Tinn again. Tinn’s hands are back on Gun, now tilting and touching his head. Gun wants to say something, anything, but the only thing he manages to do is stare. And stare, until his pulse is rising again. 

He’s really helpless against his own heart.  

“Does it hurt, here?” Tinn asks, softly pressing a specific point on the side of Gun’s head. Gun shakes his head slightly and Tinn’s hands stop touching him, Gun is about to complain but Tinn’s back a touching him, now placing his hand on his shoulder. Gun knows is an automatic movement that probably means nothing for the other but the contact is comforting. “Most of the stitches have already fallen off. I will only remove the remaining ones and we’ll be done.” Tinn explains and Gun just nods. 

What else can he do honestly?

When Tinn gets busy removing the stitches. Gun stares at him again, Tinn's concentrated expression is the most entertaining thing Gun has experienced lately. He wants to say something again, and he knows that if he doesn't do it now, he’ll never be able to. So, he does it. 

“Are you coming to the high school reunion this weekend?” Gun asks in a rush, unable to think of something else. Tinn stops his work on Gun’s stitches for a few seconds and they look at each other briefly. Gun’s starting to regret having asked in the first place and is about to take back the question when Tinn resumes his work just before answering.

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet,” he says calmly, without looking at Gun, focusing only on his work. After a few minutes, Tinn stops his work again looking back at Gun he asks, “Are you going?”

“Mmm-hmm, the band—” Gun makes an affirmation sound and is about to complete his answer when is interrupted. 

“What is taking so long?” Gun’s manager says as he bursts into the place.  Gun lets out a tired sigh and just by looking at the older’s man expression, he knows the conversation is over.

“Everything looks good. All the stitches have healed properly. If you feel any discomfort in the future you can come back at any time and one of the staff members will be happy to assist you.” Tinn says using his most professional tone. 

Gun wants to continue their conversation and say anything that would allow him to keep Tinn's attention focused on him. But Tinn leaves before he can say anything else, and Gun feels like they're drifting apart once again. 

It seems that his career will continue to go on forever getting in between them. And he hates it, he hates it more than ever.

***

Later that day, Gun enters his apartment and is immediately hit by a wave of loneliness and silence that, although constant, never ceases to take him by surprise. The place is so quiet he can hear his inner thoughts and that just makes him feel worse. 

This is what you traded so much for? 

His manager and producers have revoked the days off he had been negotiating. Por tried to help him with any legal way out, but there was not much he could do, the contract obliges him to do what they say. So, he’s on schedule again and in the meantime, he’s trying to take advantage of all the free time he gets at least on weekends.

Weekends are when he feels the loneliest. But it hasn’t been always like that. And his mind seems to want to remind him just that… as if he wasn’t miserable enough. 

It finally happened. After almost two years of dating, they’ve decided to take a step further in their relationship and move in together. 

It hasn’t been an easy decision. They’ve been walking around it for a year now. Scared that it was too soon to have that level of intimacy in their relationship. Everyone around them made sure to warn them about not rushing things and taking everything at their own pace, their own pace being always questioned by them anyway, so they never pay much attention to those ‘warnings’. But with each day that passed they grew anxious and wanted to be with each other all the time, so they did.

Tinn has been the one to take the initiative, as everything in their relationship, to be fair. One night when they were lying down in bed during one of their multiple stay over, he asked Gun permission to look intensely into his eyes just like he did during their first week staying together back in high school and he just blurt it out loud. Taking Gun by surprise.

“Do you want to move in together?” Tinn has said looking extremely nervous, unable to keep their eye contact for longer than seconds. 

“W-what? Are you sure?” Gun asked, sitting on the bed abruptly, equally nervous. 

Tinn joins Gun in the center of the bed and taking Gun’s hands in his own he’s back at looking him intensely in the eyes. 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. And I know we said we’ll wait till we’re both more settled in our respective careers. But… we’re practically already living together, staying over at each other’s place more often than we used to do before. And honestly, it’s ridiculous to pay two rents when we’re using just one place. Don’t you think so?” 

Gun lets out a snort, “And here I was thinking you would say something romantic like ‘I couldn't wait for the moment when we would wake up together every morning,’ or some cheesy thing like that.”

“Well, that too. I’m just trying to be practical and less cheesy here, help me out. Would you?” Tinn jokes, still holding Gun’s hands tightly.

“Please don’t contain yourself. I love your cheesiness so much,” Gun adds joking too. 

“In that case… Juliet, Oh, Juliet…” Tinn starts and Gun is already cracking up. “Would you do me the honor of moving in with me, to put an end to the suffering of waking up every day without you by my side?” Tinn ends in an exaggerated, almost theatrical way. 

“Oh, my god” Gun burst out, unable to contain his laughter any longer. “You’re so ridiculously cute…” he adds, before throwing himself on top of his boyfriend.  

Tinn lets out a strangled sound before setting himself better to take his boy's weight on top of him “So, what do you say?” he asks in a whisper. 

Gun takes a few minutes before answering, making Tinn more and more nervous.

All wrapped in the other’s arms, Gun raises his head to lock eyes with Tinn. “We have to tell your father first, so he can help us tell your mother,” Gun says with a grin that Tinn matches. Both know well that from their parents the most difficult to tell would be Tinn’s mom. 

“And you’ll be on laundry duty while I take care of the cooking” Gun says solely, to which Tinn just nods in agreement. They both know too well, that they’re better off with Tinn nowhere near the kitchen. “And we gonna do cleaning once a month” Gun adds.

“Once a month?! That's too little, isn't it?” Tinn asks surprised. 

“Once a week, then” Gun concedes, and this time Tinn agrees without any objection. 

“And we’ll split all the expenses, no discussion.”  

“But—” Tinn’s about to object, probably to offer to continue paying rent by himself or some ridiculous unbalanced arrangement, but Gun won’t allow him to.

“No discussion. I said!” 

Tinn does not dare to discuss this any further. And they remain in silence for a few minutes, until Tinn remembers something important. 

“We need to go shopping.”

“What do we need to get?” Gun asks, curious.

“New furniture!” Tinn answers excitedly and even though Gun is confused at first he accepts it. Anything that’ll make his boyfriend happy he’ll do.

Back in the present Gun smiles at the sweet memory and shifts his position on the couch as he continues remembering those first days of living together…

They had told everyone about it. As predicted, Tinn’s mom was the most difficult to convince. It wasn’t that she was against their decision to move in together, but she feared it was too soon for them to be taking such an important step. But again as predicted, Tinn’s dad has been a big help.

Everything was settled within a week, and that weekend they were off to their first furniture shopping together. 

“Do we really need new furniture?” Gun asks, already tired of looking around for the perfect couch Tinn wanted to put on their not-so-new shared living room. 

“We do!” Tinn exclaims excitedly. “Where are we gonna cuddle to watch series and movies?” 

He has a point, Gun admits. They spend another half an hour looking around countless stores until Tinn finally finds it. 

“That’s it! That’s the one!” he says with enthusiasm, pointing out what he baptized as ‘The perfect cuddling couch’. To Gun's eyes, it wasn’t anything special but his boy liked it, so that’s the couch they end up buying. 

“Look, we can pair it with that carpet,” Gun suggests and Tinn agrees. 

That’s how their furniture shopping concludes. The couch will be sent to their apartment but they have to carry the carpet and other kitchen utensils they bought back home. 

A week later they’re completely set up in the apartment that up until now was just Tinn’s but from now on they’re going to share. 

The carpet they just bought never gets to be used and the couch in their living room gets to witness both good and sad moments through the years they spend together. 

Back in his lonely living room, Gun smiles sadly, caressing the rough fabric of the couch that is not their perfect cuddling couch .

If he could go back in time he would change so many things, but there’s one thing he would never change, and that’s the one and only person that has always owned his heart. 

That's one thing he would never change, no matter how painful it has become to be around him pretending as if the most beautiful love story never happened between the two of them.

***

That night when Tinn arrives at home, he’s exhausted, completely overworked as usual. He just wants to lie down in bed but somehow he manages to take a shower and get properly dressed to sleep and when he’s done he finally throws himself into the soft mattress. 

It’s been such a long day but that doesn’t seem to stop his mind from taking him in an emotional memory lane on his sleep.

They’re been living together for almost three years now, things haven’t been entirely easy all the time. But Tinn has always thought every hardship they’ve gone through has been worth it. 

It has always been like this so he doesn’t understand what makes this time different.

They have fought again. It’s not the first time and it’s not going to be the last one, that’s for sure, at least that's what Tinn fears and hopes. But recently every fight feels like is going to be the last, one last big fight and they’ll be over, that’s the threat that lingers in the air around them every time they fight. 

And it scares Tinn to the bone. Shaking his entire system in fear. 

What they have is too precious to let it just die in a meaningless fight. And why they’ve been fighting for? Well… basically, everything and nothing at the same time. 

The truth is that they’ve been very stressed lately, extremely stressed. Life has been hectic and that’s probably their main problem. Gun’s about to graduate from his major, his project thesis has been keeping him busy but now that is done he has a bit more freedom to focus only on his college band activities which has been great ‘cause they have recently started gaining more popularity, what has led him to be traveling and performing a lot. 

While at the other end, Tinn barely has any free time. All his classes are time-consuming and he’s nowhere near the end of his major, still has to go on for years so even if he wants to, he can’t find time to spend with his boyfriend. 

And it shouldn’t be a problem, both of them are pretty much busy with their respective activities. The problem is that that’s not how their relationship works. They’re used to spending all their free time together, Tinn would show up to every performance Gun has, supporting him in every way possible, and Gun would help Tinn study and cheer him up before every test. They would celebrate every success and failure together. But they haven't had the time to do it lately, and that was killing them and their relationship slowly. 

“When are you gonna be back?” Tinn asks when Gun is about to leave their apartment. 

“I don’t know,” Gun answers stopping for a moment in the middle of the hallway that leads to the main door. The suitcase he uses every time he travels is in one of his hands. 

“Would you like—” Tinn stops briefly to think better about what he’s about to propose. “I can pick you up at the airport when you get back if you want…”

Gun takes a few minutes to think about it. 

“It’s alright. They will give us a ride back home. I don’t want to bother you…” he whispers the last thing. Still not looking at Tinn.

“It's no bother, Gun. I can—” Tinn’s saying but is abruptly interrupted by Gun’s sudden hug.

It takes him by surprise, ‘cause they just fought this morning. 

“It’s really not necessary. Thank you. But you should focus on studying and… good luck on your test.” He says unwrapping his arms off Tinn quickly, too quick to Tinn’s liking. And without saying any other word he walks across the door and leaves. 

Tinn watches him leave letting out a soft sigh. That’s how things have been between them lately. They would argue, and then when things seemed to be settled down, they would be awkward with each other until the next argument arose. 

Tinn feels lost and scared, so scared of the moment when they will finally fall apart.

Back in the present, Tinn wakes up abruptly. It has been a while since he has dreamt about them. Unfortunately for him, his mind has left the happy memories route to take him down the sad ones. 

And that’s a trip he’s not willing to take. With a grunt, he gets up from the bed and searches on the bathroom shelves, once he finds them, he takes one pill hoping that would be enough to help him sleep without dreaming throughout the night.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | ?

[queenomaggots]

you’d think after all these years i’d remember to save my wips before going to bed

you’d think

[captainsophiestark]

Anything For You

Daisy Johnson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022! Requested by Anon :)

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: “You know I’d do anything.”

Summary: Y/N and Skye are dating, and when Skye gets in a hairy situation with Ian Quinn in Malta, it's Y/N to the rescue. They'd do anything for their girlfriend, after all.

Word Count: 1,242

Category: Fluff, maybe a tiny bit of Angst?

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"She should be just up ahead of you. Her last known location put her in the building somewhere around the corner."

I didn't bother replying to May as I sprinted for all I was worth. Skye, my girlfriend of just under a month, had gone into a dangerous situation undercover, with almost no training. She'd done incredibly well, sucking Ian Quinn and allowing me, Ward, and Coulson to get past his security fence for a rescue mission of Doctor Franklin Hall. We'd lost contact with her, however, not long after she'd been in a tight situation with Quinn, and I was absolutely worried sick.

I hurtled around the corner at top speed, a little more recklessly than I'd normally behave. I quickly decided it was the right call, however, when I saw Skye trapped on a walkway, two armed men blocking both of her options for escape.

The man behind Skye saw me coming, but he was too slow to warn his partner. I slammed into the guy with his back to me, the one standing between me and my girlfriend, knocking him out before he got the chance to even attempt to defend himself. The remaining hostile tried to make a grab for Skye, but I grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind me before he could. He squared up and took a few swings at me, but I managed to duck, dodge, and sidestep them all.

I waited patiently for my opening, drawing on every ounce of training I'd ever received. Finally, I saw my chance when the guy overcommitted to a pretty nasty right hook. I got past his guard with the hardest uppercut I could manage, and when he reeled back from the hit, I landed a few more precise blows that dropped him like a stone.

Once he was down and I'd done a quick scan to make sure no one else was getting the drop on us (they weren't), I turned back to Skye.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, rushing to close the distance between us and taking her hands in mine as I looked her over for any sign of injury. She shook her head.

"No. No, I'm fine."

She seemed shaken, but like she'd said, she didn't seem to be hurt. I sighed, feeling the adrenaline finally start to drain out of me, and pulled her into my chest.

"Alright, it's alright," I said, stroking her hair with one hand as she wrapped her arms around me and laid her head on my chest. She'd gone into total badass mode for her escape, which I was incredibly proud of, but the shock and fear of what she'd just managed to escape would be hitting her any minute. "You're alright, Skye. You did good, you're safe. Now let's get out of here."

She nodded, but kept holding on to me while she took a few deep breaths. The island shook beneath us, and we both realized it was our cue to meet up with the rest of our team and get the hell out of here.

We could finish decompressing later.

****************

I absentmindedly ran my hands through Skye's hair as we laid in bed together, squeezed onto her twin bunk on the Bus. The whole team had made it back from Malta safely, thankfully, although we'd just made an enemy out of Quinn and we hadn't been able to save Doctor Hall.

Honestly, I didn't really care about any of that stuff. Skye and I had made it out safely, and that's all that mattered to me.

"You know, you really did a fantastic job today," I mused as we relaxed together, taking in the gentle hum of the engines now that the Bus was in the air. "I mean seriously. I'm still pissed that Ward's your SO and not me, but... clearly he's doing a pretty good job training you."

Skye laughed, and I smiled.

"I guess we do have to give him some credit," she said. "Although I think his training is working mostly because I'm just a great student and a natural agent."

I laughed. Skye turned to glare up at me, clearly offended, but I couldn't help it.

"Babe, I've seen you down there doing your drills on the punching bag. You're definitely getting better, and nobody gets stuff right away, but... your stance is anything but natural."

Skye just huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

We passed a few moments in comfortable silence, me smiling to myself and Skye clearly still a little grumpy. I was starting to drift off for some much needed sleep after all the chaos of the day when she spoke again, waking me up and drawing my attention.

"Thank you for today, by the way," she said. "You completely saved me. I don't know what I would've done without you."

I gave her a light squeeze with the arm I had wrapped around her. "Anytime. I will literally always come for you if you need me, Skye. I'd do anything for you. You know I'd do anything."

She nodded without looking up at me, and squeezed me a little tighter with the arm she had slung across my stomach. She didn't say anything, but I knew my words meant the world to her. When we'd first met, she'd had absolutely no one in the world. She'd been completely on her own, without anybody to trust or to have her back. I'd become that person for her recently, and although she wasn't really one for the most touchy-feely conversations and declarations of love, I knew what I meant to her.

After a few moments of Skye taking deep breaths and me gently rubbing circles on her back, the tension and emotionally charged air of the moment faded away. Skye cleared her throat.

"So... when you say you'd do anything for me..."

"Oh boy," I said, rolling my eyes and taking my arm from around her shoulders. I shifted and so did Skye so she was now laying next to me, resting her head on her fist and looking at me with mischief in her eyes. "What do you want?"

"A glass of water?"

"Last I checked, your legs were not broken despite your jump off a balcony today."

"Yeah, but... this bed is so comfortable, and I don't want to get up. And you said you'd do anything for me."

I sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling like I was praying for strength, but then I threw the covers off and stood up.

"You're the love of my life," said Skye as I slipped on a pair of shoes sitting by the bed and headed for the door of her bunk. "My hero and angel."

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever. Save your flattery and keep the covers warm for me, alright?"

"Promise."

I pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway with a dramatic sigh, pausing at the last minute to shoot a grin and a wink back at Skye. She beamed at me in response, and my heart leapt in my chest. We really hadn't known each other all that long in the grand scheme of things, but I already knew for a fact that she was the love of my life.

I'd get her a million glasses of water and save her on a million missions, and I knew she'd do the same for me.

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

[citrinesparkles]

doctor todd.

jason todd x gender neutral vigilante!reader. 1,875 words. notes: requested by @jason-redhood as part of my hundred followers celebration! this got a lot longer than i intended, oopsies. thanks for requesting- hope you enjoy! warnings: tending wounds, mentions of food.

"y'know, lurking outside somebody's window is a good way to get yourself shot," jason called over his shoulder.

"i'll keep that in mind," you said, voice strained enough to shoot dread into his veins and draw his attention completely away from his work.

he set the gun he had been cleaning on the table and twisted around to find you gingerly sliding through the open window.

"hey," you mumbled, giving him a weak wave after your boots hit the floor. "sorry for not calling, i just..."

you were backlit, the glow of the city making it impossible to see your features from the dining area- but your posture alone was enough to have him shoving his chair back and crossing his apartment.

"how bad?" he asked, stopping a few steps back, now able to make out the tears in your suit and the bruises around your mask.

"pretty sure i sprained my wrist, and there's a poorly-bandaged gash on my leg, but otherwise i'm peachy."

"how bad's the leg?"

"i'm... not sure. bad enough that i think i need your help." you patted the windowsill with a gloved hand. "obviously."

he nodded and slid to your good side, gently resting a hand on your shoulder. "okay. c'mon, my stuff's in the bathroom."

-

"here." he handed you a pair of shorts and a large tank top. "change into this so i can get to the wounds, okay? i'll be right out here if you need anything."

-

"you're good!" you called.

he nudged the bathroom door back open and scooped your uniform up from the floor, carefully putting it in a canvas bag and tying the handles together before setting it in the tub to deal with later. "alright," he sighed, turning back to face you.

his clothes looked way too right on you, he realized, a wave of emotion he would vehemently deny surging through his chest and pushing heat to his neck and cheeks.

"alright?"

"okay. alright. uh-" he jerked a thumb at the counter- "up here, i guess, so i can see your leg."

you propped one foot on the toilet lid and braced your good hand against his shoulder, his hands instinctively coming up to hover around your waist as you pushed yourself up and settled next to the sink.

the grateful smile you gave him was enough to tug his lips into a smile of his own.

"you're up, doctor todd," you teased.

he stepped forward with a halfhearted eyeroll, fingers brushing the cloth tied hastily around your leg. "can i take this off?"

"go ahead."

he tugged gently at the knot, wincing when you inhaled sharply. "sorry."

the scrap fell away, revealing dried blood and an open wound on the outside of your thigh.

"yeesh, that is nasty," he said.

you scoffed lightly. "gee, thanks."

"hey, if you wanted a nice doctor, you probably should have gone somewhere else." he shifted to the side, grabbing a clean cloth and bottle of alcohol. "fair warning, you're really not gonna like me here in a minute."

your quick "i seriously doubt that." was greeted with a grin that felt a little too fond for his liking.

he told himself it was for your benefit.

...yeah, that sounded good.

he could live with that.

-

he made quick work of cleaning the gash, doing his best to distract you by making stupid small talk about the horrible movie he'd sat through that morning because the tv remote had been out of reach and the mediocre new coffee shop with dry blueberry muffins.

"was the coffee okay, at least?"

"okay, yeah, but not 'five-dollars-fifty' okay. if i hadn't been falling asleep in line i probably would have left when i saw the price."

"there's a nice one up by my place, they make the best blueberry muffins ever."

he hummed. "i'll keep that in mind, next time i'm over that way." he leaned back, studying your cut. "i think stitches would probably be smart."

you groaned. "of course they would."

"i'm okay to do them- i do them on myself- but if you want i can give you a lift to a hospital or something."

"no. if you can, i want you to do them. i trust you."

he sat with that for a minute, searching your face for any hesitation. when he found none, he nodded. "okay."

-

as you both expected, it sucked.

to make things worse, he was rapidly running out of mindless things to talk about.

how many times could two people really argue about pizza toppings before it got old?

-

"alright, done."

"holy shit, finally." you slumped back, leaning on your good hand for a moment before your head snapped back up. "no, not like- i meant thank you, you did great, i'm not being an ingrate-"

"i know, relax." he nudged your knee with a goofy smile. "here, gimme your wrist."

you pouted (which, yes, that was also adorable, much to his dismay), carefully stretching your bad arm out.

he took your hand gently, scooping it up in one of his and bracing your forearm up with his other. "it's actually not too bad, considering you hit hard enough to tear your glove. i'm gonna clean the scrapes here up, though, okay?"

"do i really get a choice?"

"it's your body, so, yeah."

you sighed dramatically. "fine, if you insist. go ahead, clean my wounds for me."

-

he was quiet this time, focusing intently on removing bits of dirt and stuff from your raw palm with a set of tweezers.

trying to ignore the way your eyes seemed to linger on him now that he was looking down.

he set the tweezers aside, glancing up at you to find you smiling at him thoughtfully, and dropped his gaze just as quickly as he had lifted it. "what, you enjoying making me do all the work?"

"you could say that, yeah."

he scoffed. "well, you're going to enjoy it a lot less in a second. time for the alcohol again."

"ugh."

-

he managed to dig up an old wrist brace in the back of his sock drawer. a little big for you, but it would work for now, he figured.

"may i?"

you nodded and held your arm back out for him to loop the brace over your thumb and tuck the velcro strap under and around, pulling it snug against your skin before sticking it to itself.

-

"last one, tough stuff." he pointed at your cheek, where a small patch of dried blood stained your skin. "ready?'

you nodded tiredly. "let's just get this over with. this counter isn't as comfortable as it looks."

he chuckled, dampening the softest cloth he had and wringing it out. "sorry, i didn't think i needed to get an apartment with counter cushions." he raised his left hand up, hovering an inch or so below your chin. "uh, can i..?"

your eyes widened, glancing at his hand. "oh, uh, sure. yeah."

he moved slowly, raising it to cup your chin softly with his middle and forefinger on one side and thumb on the other. "this okay?"

"mhm." your eyes slid shut and he could almost believe that you sank into his touch.

if it wasn't absolutely insane, anyway. his touch wasn't exactly the kind people sank into- much less people like you. people that good, that caring, that stunning? yeah, no.

he tilted your head to the side slightly, rubbing gentle circles across your cheekbone with the cloth and watching as the blood faded.

"so, who did this?" he asked softly, casually.

apparently not casually enough, though, because you snorted at him. "why, you think you need to go avenge me? defend my honor or something?"

"no! i'm just curious. just... making conversation."

your eyes opened, amusement dancing in them and threatening to hypnotize him. "good. i shouldn't have to tell you who won that fight, jay."

"well, i mean, you are missing a chunk of your thigh."

"aw, is the big bad vigilante worried about lil old me?"

he squeezed your face gently, pushing your cheeks up and forward into a goofy fish face. "it's rude to tease the guy tending to your wounds, babe."

he definitely didn't imagine your breath hitching. "babe, huh?" you asked playfully.

"shut up," he grumbled. "don't make me regret helping."

-

"alright, looks like that's the last scrape. you're all cleaned up."

"thanks, jason." you smiled up at him, soft and warm and genuine. "i really appreciate this."

"yeah, yeah." he squeezed your jaw again. "try not to make it a habit."

"mhm." a moment passed quietly before you spoke quietly. "so, you gonna do something here, or can i have my face back?"

he froze.

your mouth- which he was really trying not to look at- shifted into a confident smirk, a challenge written clearly in the angle of your lips.

your eyes, bright under the harsh lighting, told a different story. one of vulnerability, and want, and something close to fear.

"do you want me to?" his voice was hoarser than he'd intended, and he swore you could hear his heartbeat echoing in it.

your gaze dipped to his lips. "would it make everything super weird?"

"you just came crawling through my window in the middle of the night in a mask and kevlar. i think things are already weird."

he felt your hum under his fingers. "then why not?"

"do you really want me to answer that?"

"jason, will you please just kiss me already?"

"well, you did say please." he leaned in slowly, giving you every opportunity to slip away or yell 'sike!'

all you did was bring your good hand up to his collar and pull him towards you.

your lips were soft and gentle, and the way they pulled upwards slightly when his hand slid from your jaw to cup your cheek was something he'd be thinking about for weeks.

when he eventually pulled back, it took him a moment to open his eyes. he was half convinced that if he did, it would be to his bedroom ceiling, the past half an hour all a dream.

instead, he found your fond gaze.

"finally."

he let out a huff of laughter, thumb running over your cheek. "you should stay here tonight."

"w-"

"not like that," he clarified quickly. "you have stitches, you shouldn't go leaping across rooftops tonight. i can take the couch."

"hm." you smoothed out his shirt collar, the barely-there brush of your fingers against his shoulder almost tugging a whine out of him. "or i can take the couch, and then you can take me home in the morning and let me treat you to an actual blueberry muffin."

"are you asking me out?" it was a teasing comment, paired with a tiny smirk meant to fluster you.

but it was also a reality check.

you seemed to catch the second meaning. "yeah, i am. would you, please, let me take you out on a date?"

"i'll have to check my calenda-"

"you're so full of it."

"yeah, probably."

"is that a yes?"

he laughed, bringing his other hand up to squeeze your knee. "yeah, i can let you take me on a date. i could use a good muffin."

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed. 

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions. 

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this. 

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the  other side of the bed across from you. 

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot. 

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented. 

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.  

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off. 

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.  

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside. 

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same.  Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

 “I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all. 

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection. 

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away���after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list! 

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore​, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat​, @yutasnabi​

[xjoonchildx]

greedy | myg x reader | chapter one: you like milkshakes?

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.3K

notes: confession, i am struggling these days with my insane attraction to min yoongi.  this guy has it all.  looks and talent and mystery and sweetness -- he’s the total package. so i really wanted to give him a story in this AU that i’ve come to love so much and i truly hope you guys enjoy it.  

i also hope you guys know how much i appreciate every single one of you. i see your reblogs and comments and likes and i try to answer every one because it truly makes my day.  you guys make my day.

i could not post this fic without shouting out the amazing @hobi-gif because honestly, if hope didn’t read it, did i even write it? and i’m sending major love to three people who are such a source of laughter and support for me, @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna @taetaewonderland. you guys keep me in stitches.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece! Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

*************************

Yoongi had fucked up.

He’d misread the massive man’s approach, tracking him in one direction when the guy was actually headed in another.  That’s how the asshole managed to catch Yoongi off guard with one meaty fist to the face. 

It didn’t matter that it was hundreds of pounds of fat -- not muscle -- behind that punch.  It was wielding more than enough momentum to blow up the side of Yoongi’s face like a bomb. 

That’s the night he landed in the ER at Songdo at nearly two in the morning, pressing gauze to his bleeding face.  

That’s the night he found himself chuckling inside an empty exam room, reading triage paperwork that made him sound like some kind of war hero instead of just an idiot who got caught looking the wrong way.

That’s the night he met you.

“Rough evening, Mister Yun?” 

Yoongi had looked up from the floor just as you’d breezed into the room, tablet in hand.  That moment marked the second time he’d been caught off guard that night.

“That looks like it hurts,” you’d murmured sympathetically, eyes raking over the bloody mess on his face.  Your gaze was clinical -- professional -- as you assessed his grossly swollen eye and the half dozen bleeding cuts that surrounded it.  

But then you’d stopped looking at him -- and stepped back to really look at him.  

Yoongi had taken one look at your enormous, dark eyes and your soft, sweet face and he was dumbstruck.  He’d blinked back at you with the only eye that could still move.  

“You’re a doctor?”

“Nope,” you’d replied casually, turning to reach for a pair of latex gloves. “I’m a janitor. But I’ve always wanted to give this medicine thing a try. You don’t mind, right?”  

Your eyes had sparkled then, bright with humor -- and Yoongi couldn’t help but grin despite the pain pulsing from the left side of his face.

“Here’s the deal, Mister Yun,” you’d said, pulling on your gloves.  “I’m a resident.  And I’m more than qualified to handle the -- situation -- on your face, but if you feel more comfortable waiting for the attending, I’m happy to step back.  Good luck seeing him before sunrise, though.”

“Nah,” Yoongi had chuckled.  “I think I’ll take my chances with you.”

“Good call.”

You’d leaned in close after that, gloved fingers firm under his chin as you turned his face from side to side.  You’d smelled fucking amazing.  The light, fresh scent that lingered on your skin sure as hell beat the disinfectant odor in this place.

“What happened to you tonight, Mister Yun?”

“It’s a funny story, actually.”

“Oh, great,” you’d said dryly.  “‘Cause it turns out, I love funny stories.”

Yoongi had flinched when you’d peeled the gauze back, exposing the angry wounds to the air.  But he’d forced himself to sit dutifully still as you got to work cleaning the caked blood off his face and eye.

“Thing is, I work for the circus,” he’d started, hissing under his breath when you swiped across an open cut above his eye.  “One of the elephants got rowdy while we were practicing a number tonight and just kicked me right in the face.”

You’d stopped dabbing at his eye then, one brow raised and a cynical slant to your mouth.

Yoongi liked that you knew he was full of shit right away. 

He liked that you’d played along anyway.

“God, I hate when that happens,” you’d said with feigned outrage, cutting your eyes at him as you dropped a piece of bloody gauze on the tray at his side.  

“I know, right?”

That’s when Yoongi had won a real smile from you, wide and genuine.  That's when Yoongi made the mistake of looking at you for just a moment too long.  

He knew it by the way your smile fell away as you cleared your throat and turned your focus back to his damaged face.

“Well, I have good news for you Mister Yun,” you’d said after a while, eyes scanning the freshly cleaned wounds.  You’d run your gloved fingers gently over one particularly deep slash over his eye and Yoongi felt a shudder run up his back.  “I’m pretty sure you’re going to live.”

“Well, that is good news.”

There was that smile again.  

It seemed like no time at all before you had him all patched up -- cuts sanitized and sealed with skin adhesive; swollen eye cleaned and medicated.  Yoongi had felt a strange kind of disappointment as he’d watched you gather your supplies, pull your gloves off and drop them in the trash can near the door.

“You’re all set, Mister Yun,” you’d murmured. “Watch out for those elephants, okay? I’d hate for them to ruin a perfectly nice face.”

Then you were gone.

***************************

Thing is -- Kim Namjoon is a rules guy.

It doesn’t matter that he runs a criminal organization -- or that the men in his employ are gangsters in custom ties and suits.  He expects dirty work done clean because that’s what sets the Gajog apart.

Rotate hospitals.  Use fake names.  Pay in cash.

All of those protocols are in place to keep any one of the Gajog from drawing unwanted attention.  Truthfully, Namjoon’s operations usually run so neatly his men rarely have to seek treatment for anything beyond the occasional black eye or broken bone.  That’s why he’d rather trust his men to legitimate doctors in legitimate hospitals than hand them over to some back-alley hack.

Thing is -- shit has gotten a lot more heated of late.  

An audit of the Gajog books has turned up millions in missing won, stolen over time by street-level guys all over the city.  Yoongi and Hoseok are the ones on the front lines, tasked with confronting those men -- getting them to pay and getting them back in line.

Sometimes they play ball.  Sometimes they don’t.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Yoongi knew the moment they arrived at the crumbling warehouse in the Nowon district that shit was probably going to get messy.  Their contact was fucked up -- sloppy drunk -- and belligerent from the jump.

After that, everything was a blur.

At some point during the scuffle, Yoongi heard his hand crunch under the heavy weight of the man’s steel-toed boot. The pain was still flaring hot from his knuckles when Hoseok finally took the guy down.  

Right now Yoongi should be at Asan or Gachon or any of the other half-dozen hospitals in the city.  He should have dragged his tired ass and bloody hand across town because those are the rules.

But instead -- for the second time in a month -- he’s sitting under the sickly fluorescent lights in an empty exam room at Songdo at nearly three in the morning.

Hoping to see you. 

*************************

Yoongi is gingerly flexing his aching fingers when a light knock sounds at the door.

It was a long shot that you’d be here tonight -- and an even longer shot that you’d be the one treating him. But when the door to the exam room opens, it’s you on the other side.

Yoongi’s pulse picks up in response.

“Sorry to keep you waiting tonight Mister -- ”  you stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide on his before darting back down the tablet in your hand.  You scan the screen slowly then look back up, gaze critical.

“ -- Mister Woo.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi replies casually.  “It’s no problem.”

You approach him slowly then, disbelief etched into your delicate features and Yoongi takes in every detail.

It’s like he’d forgotten how pretty you are since the last time he saw you.

You’re nothing like the flashy women who like to hang around the usual Gajog haunts.  You’re the kind of pretty that doesn’t cost hundreds of thousands of won a month to maintain.  The kind of pretty that doesn’t come off at the end of the night. 

Yoongi swallows thickly as you eye him, lips parted like you’re about to fire off a hundred different questions.  But you don’t.  

You play along.  

Again.

“Right.  Let’s get to it then, Mister Woo,” you say carefully, slipping on your gloves.  “What happened to your hand?”

“Well, you see, I’m a hot air balloon operator.”  

His mouth quirks into a smile and your eyes flash in response.  

“Wind was nuts today and the basket came down on my hand.  I think I might have broken something.”

“Hmm,” you murmur.  “Hot air balloon operator, huh?”

Yoongi winces when you take his hand between your gloved ones, gently applying pressure to each knuckle.

“Yeah.”

“That’s an interesting way to make a living, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi chokes down a groan when you press against one particularly sore spot.  You back off the pressure, turning to make a note on your chart.

“Well, I’m an interesting guy,” he whispers.  

You look up at him then, dark eyes focused and intense.  

“That you are.”

You’re looking at Yoongi like you can see inside him and the scrutiny makes him squirm.  He lowers his eyes to the floor and keeps quiet while you clean his hand and apply ointment to his cuts.

“Mister Woo, it looks like most of these are surface abrasions, but the knuckles concern me.  I’m going to have to send you for an X-ray.”

“Yeah, okay.  It hurts like hell.”

“I bet it does,” you say quietly, typing into your tablet.  “Someone is going to come and take you back when they’re ready.  I have to go check on some other patients, but I’ll be back when we have some images to go over.”

“Sure,” Yoongi breathes.

You take another long look at him before standing to leave and Yoongi wonders for a moment if he’s made a mistake. Maybe he’s misread you like he misread that brawler who caught him with the nasty punch all those weeks ago.  

You could be off to flag a security guard.  Or leaving to call the police.

He really should have just followed protocol.

Yoongi sits in the quiet of that exam room waiting -- ready -- for trouble that never comes.  Because when a knock finally sounds at the door, it’s not the Korean National Police.  

It’s the X-ray technician.

Maybe he didn’t misread you after all.

*********************

It takes hours for you to come back.

“Mixed news tonight, Mister Woo,” you say upon your return.  “You have hairline fractures in three of your knuckles, which explains the pain.  Unfortunately, that means I’m not going to be able to do much for you beyond wrapping your hand.”

Yoongi nods.  “Got it.”

“And you should probably lay off the ballooning for a while,” you say under your breath as you lay out your bandages.  “Just a suggestion.”

“Good idea,” Yoongi chuckles.  “Safety first.”

You fix him with another one of those long, indecipherable looks before getting to work on his hand.  But you don’t say anything and the longer the silence stretches on, the antsier Yoongi feels.

“So…” he exhales, clearing his throat, “... you like milkshakes?”

“Everyone likes milkshakes,” you return evenly.  You don’t take your eyes off his hand or the flexible material you’re carefully wrapping around his sore knuckles. 

“Lactose intolerant people don’t like milkshakes.”

“Lactose intolerant people like milkshakes as much as the rest of us,” you argue.  “They just can’t tolerate them.”

“What are you, some kind of doctor?”

Your lips quirk with the threat of a laugh you manage to suppress but Yoongi catches the expression before it disappears.  You seem to relax after that.  He does, too.

“Dijeoteu has the best milkshakes in the city.  Ever been there?”

“Can’t say that I have,” you admit, taping off a bandage.  

“It’s not far from here.  Open twenty-four hours.  I hang out there sometimes.”

“So you’re a milkshake-drinking hot-air balloon enthusiast,” you murmur, inspecting your handiwork closely.  “Anything else I should know about you, Mister Woo?’

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Not really.  That about covers it.”

You hum thoughtfully under your breath as you finish wrapping the bruised knuckles.

“All done.  How does it feel?”

“Better,” Yoongi admits.  “Thanks.”

You gaze at him then, thoughtful -- expression soft with something that looks almost like concern.  Yoongi drops his gaze down to his bandaged hand.

This is the part where you’ve finished -- the part where you leave.  

This is the part where he should say something to you but he has no idea what or how.

“I would say come back soon, but this is a hospital and that seems wildly inappropriate,” you announce, voice breaking clear through his stupor.

You turn back to him just as you’re walking towards the door, and for a moment Yoongi thinks you’re going to give in and ask him any one of the dozens of questions that must be swirling around your mind.

But you don’t.

“Try to take care of that hand, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi nods.

“Thanks, Doc.”

**********************

YOU

Doctor Lee is on his Houdini shit tonight, apparently.

The ER is packed -- waiting room crowded with crabby patients -- and you are, once again, running yourself ragged to get to every last one.  Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

“Page him again,” you call out as you pass the charge nurse outside an exam room.  

A quick scan of your tablet confirms the toddler behind this magic door has been vomiting all night.  You shut your eyes and wish a slow, violent death on your absent attending.  Vomit is the single worst phenomenon in medicine.

“I’ve paged him three times,” Nurse Ko calls back.

“Page him again,” you repeat, forcing a smile and pushing into the room.

Thirty minutes and one change of scrubs later you are checking charts on the next patient in line.  You pat the pocket of your new scrubs and realize you’ve left a half-eaten energy bar around here somewhere.  

No chance you’ll get that back.

Lee picks this moment to reappear, back from doing God knows what.  He strolls down the hallway like a man with nothing on his to-do list.

“You paged for me?” he inquires casually.

“A few times, actually,” you mutter.  “I’m getting killed out here.”

“Relax,” Lee purrs, condescension dripping from his tone.  “We’ll get it done.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from firing back the half-dozen nasty responses that spring to mind. There is no we when it comes to Doctor Lee.  He’s always been flighty and inconsistent, but these days he’s practically a missing person.  You’re still not sure how hospital management hasn’t figured out that he’s making his resident run the overnight ER.

“There’s a guy down the hall who says he swallowed a magnet,” you say, waving a hand in that direction.  “If you can pick him up I can get to this head trauma.”

Lee sighs like it’s a major inconvenience that you’ve asked him to do his job.

“Yeah, I’ll grab it.”

***********************

It’s nearly four in the morning by the time you have a chance to catch your breath.

You walk out to scan the waiting area and to your relief, there are only a handful of patients yet to be seen.  Then your eyes land on one young man -- slumped into a chair in an oversized coat, hat pulled low over his eyes.

You freeze.  

The man in the chair must feel your stare from across the room because he straightens, giving you a better look at the face hidden under the brim of his hat.  You let go of a breath you don’t realize you’ve been holding.

It’s not him.  

It’s not the mysterious man with the fake names and the bogus stories and the insanely handsome face. You shake your head as you look back down at your tablet, silently chastising yourself for even entertaining the thought.  

You shouldn’t still be thinking about this guy and you know it.

But it’s driving you nuts that you can’t figure him out.

He’s never tried to play you for pills and that seems to be the only thing people lie about these days. But if his problem isn’t drugs it’s certainly something because no one lands in the hospital that many times, with that many phoney stories unless they’re up to no good.

So you ignore the nonsensical disappointment you feel when the guy in that chair is not the guy. 

Because deep down you know he’s either in trouble -- or he is trouble.

***********************

Your pager goes off for a second time and you silence the alert, tossing it onto a nearby blanket.

It’s not like you’re hiding out in here -- not really. 

It’s just that you’ve already had one patient cough up blood on your sneakers and another swing at you when you refused to give him narcotics, so this night is off to a spectacularly bad start.

Besides, Doctor Lee could use a taste of his own medicine.  

This week has been the worst, by far.  You’ve been seeing at least three patients to his every one and you’re exhausted.  If there’s any justice, he’s walking into the exam room where the infant with explosive diarrhea is waiting to be seen -- you check your watch -- right about now.

The door to the linen closet cracks open and you groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“What, you thought I didn’t know about your little hiding place?”  Nurse Ko asks with a grin.  “I find everyone’s hiding place, eventually.”

“Haven’t found Lee’s yet,” you gripe. 

“Yeah, well he’s sneakier,” she laughs.  “Here, I brought you something.”  

She tosses a granola bar at you and it lands in your lap.  

“Thanks,” you sigh, ripping it open.  You take a bite and Ko leans against the doorframe.

“I don’t page you for my health, you know.”

“I know,” you whine around a mouthful of dried oats.  “I just needed five minutes.”

“Well, I’ve got a guy out here who says he’ll only see you.  Doesn’t want Doctor Lee and says he’ll wait as long as it takes.”

A piece of the granola bar lodges in your throat and you cough around it, spluttering while Ko looks on, amused.  She waits for you to collect yourself.

“Is he -- ”

“ -- hot? Yes. Very,” Ko smiles.  

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment at both the observation and the fact that it’s coming from a woman in her sixties.

“I was going to say young,” you grumble, standing and dusting your hands off with a towel.

“That, too.  Come to think of it, I know I’ve seen him here before.  You have some kind of admirer, jagiya?”

You flush.

**************************

“Good evening, Mister Kim.”

You hope the air of nonchalance you affect when you enter the exam room is enough to mask your jitters.  

Your mystery patient looks back at you with those dark eyes and a half-smirk that makes your heart trip in your chest.  You take a steadying breath as you look down at your tablet.

Get it together, girl.

“What brings you in tonight?” you inquire lightly.  “Sword-swallowing accident?  Lose a fist fight with a bear?”

Your mysterious patient chuckles under his breath.  

“Where would you get a couple of outlandish ideas like that, Doc?”

You look up at him just as the teasing smirk on his face becomes a full smile and heat blooms in your chest and face.  You force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“I dislocated my shoulder.  Did you know I work air traffic control at Incheon?”

You shake your head with amused weariness as you make notes on your tablet.

“Crazy night.  One of the planes nearly slid off the runway and I threw my shoulder out trying to get it back on track.”

“Did you save it?”

“Saved it and all 227 people on board.”

“Bravo, Mister Kim.” 

“Just doing my job,” he shrugs.  

You set your tablet down on the exam table with a thump, eyeing him as you reach for a pair of gloves.

“The charge nurse says you asked for me.”

“I did,” he admits.  “You never told me what your favorite kind of milkshake is.”

You cock your head to the side as you look at him.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mister Kim,” you murmur, feigning ignorance. “According to my records this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.”

“Oh, yeah.  Right,” he chuckles.  

“You need some help getting undressed?”

“Yeah,” he admits, slipping one arm out of his leather jacket.  You lean in to help him pull the other side off, compelling yourself to ignore the way he smells like soap and sweat and man when you’re this close.

“It’s strawberry.”

You blurt the words out, anxious to give your brain a task that doesn’t involve analyzing this man’s smell.  Something about the mischievous twist to his mouth tells you he knows you’re flustered by his nearness.  

“I would have guessed chocolate,” he muses, reaching one hand down to grab the hem of his shirt. He drags it up his abdomen and you will your eyes to stay on his face -- refusing to give him any indication that you have more than a clinical interest in what lies underneath.

“Everyone likes chocolate,” you argue, taking over when he can’t get the shirt up any higher.  You push it over his head and carefully work it off his shoulder.  “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

“Mission accomplished, Doc.”

He gazes at you then -- chest bare and eyes sharp beneath those inky lashes --  and you feel a bolt of awareness run the length of your spine. You pray the heat you suddenly feel all over your body is not manifesting in damning spots of color on your face.  

You remind yourself to get back to work. 

He sucks a breath between his teeth when you press gently against the inflamed muscle and tissue.

“My shoulder’s been shit for years,” he confesses.  “I screwed it up when I was a kid and it hasn’t been the same since.”

“So this happens to you from time to time?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then I’m going to have to refer you for an MRI,” you say, and he groans when you press into his shoulder again.  “There could be a lot of scar tissue in here, but I won’t be able to know what’s going on until we get some clear scans.”

Your eyes flick back to his.  

Every word that’s ever come out of this man’s mouth is a lie -- but there’s something that feels honest about the way he’s looking at you right now.  Something that makes you feel seasick, unsteady.

“Turn to the side for me,” you say quietly, and the thin paper that lines the exam table rustles as he complies.  The relief you feel when he pivots away from you with those eyes and that look is whole-bodied.  

“For now, the best I can do is probably pop -- “

Your words trail off as your eyes lock on a wound that sits just a few inches from his spine, just above the line of his jeans.  The edges are white and soft with age -- the area long-healed -- but the trauma is unmistakable.  

Textbook.  

The anger you feel as you stare at the wound doesn’t make any sense.  

But you feel it anyway.

“Is it still inside of you, or did they pull it out?”

“What -- ”

“-- The bullet Mister Kim,” you interrupt sharply.  “If it’s still in you, I promise it will come out the second they load you into an MRI machine.  The hard way.”

The muscles of his back flex as he stiffens.  Tension bleeds into the lines of his body and into his voice when he finally speaks.

“It’s out.”

Neither of you says another word.

The room feels hollow now, painfully quiet without talk of elephants or hot air balloons or milkshakes.  The two of you work together silently to crack his abused shoulder back into place.  Somehow he manages to endure that pain without making a sound.

In the end, it’s you that has to speak first.

“That should hold you for now,” you say tightly, standing to toss your gloves in the trash.   You grab your tablet to make notes.

“You mad at me, Doc?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter, fingers flying over your screen.  “I don’t even know you.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re mad at me?”

You tear your eyes away from the screen to find his.  

There’s no teasing or humor there anymore.  He looks boyish and unsure like this, peering back at you with somber eyes from beneath long black bangs that have fallen into his face.

“No more stories, no more bullshit.  Tell me who you are.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think better of them -- before you can consider how stupid it is to interrogate a complete stranger with a now confirmed history of violence.  Before you can consider that you have no right to the anger that now streaks white-hot through your veins.

“I can’t,” he breathes quietly.  “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head in disgust.

“Are you dangerous?”

Before he even speaks, you get your answer.  You get it in the way color erupts across the bridge of his nose and cheeks.  The way he looks away from you and down to his hands.

“I guess that depends on who you ask,” he whispers.

“I’m asking you,” you fire back.

He doesn’t answer.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, waiting for him to say something in his defense. Waiting for him to pull another gag and tell just one more ridiculous story.  But the seconds tick by and he says nothing.

“A nurse is going to come by with a sling. She’ll help you get dressed, too,” you say tightly, walking to the door.

You don’t know why your heart feels like it seizes in your chest when you turn to give him one more look.

“Take care of yourself, Mister Kim,” you say quietly.  “And don’t come back.”

*****************************

Glossary:

Dijeoteu: dessert

Jagiya: sweetie, sweetheart

*****************************

Tag List!

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[drabbles-mc]

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust​:  Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge​ @mayans-sauce​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @masterlistforimagines​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​​ @lexondeck​​​

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

--

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

--

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

--

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,565 Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 5 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: A violent encounter outside the walls only increases Daryl's questions and concerns about Y/N.

Your name: submit What is this?

You immediately and instinctively grappled for your knife at your hip and unsheathed it, staring up in horror at the two men now standing over you. A lot happened very quickly. It must have only been matter of seconds, but it felt immensely long.

“Ohhhh, sweetheart. You’re in trouble,” one of them said, laughing as he glanced over at the man beside him.

You tightened your grip on your knife but the next moment there was a swift kick to your wrist and then a boot came down on it, crushing it into the floor, eliciting another yell from you. Your knife clattered away and you followed it with your eyes desperately.

You struggled to get away but the man was suddenly grabbing you by the ankles and dragging you closer.

“Get the fuck off me!” you growled. You lashed out with your boot and caught him in the face with the toe.

“Agh! You fuckin’ bitch!” he roared, spitting out blood onto the floor. He let out an animalistic growl and stood over you. “You’re coming—with us!” His words were punctuated with strong kicks into your ribs, which left you unable to cry out or even to breathe. You curled into yourself on the floor, willing your diaphragm to unclench and draw breath.

Daryl. The only desperate thought in your mind.

The man who was standing over you suddenly dropped down so he was straddling over your writhing form. “I said, you’re coming with us. Back where you belong.”

You finally were able to wheeze in a breath and glared up at him. “Fuck. You,” you spat, disdain contorting your face. Where the hell was Daryl? you thought desperately.

“This will go a lot easier if you don’t fight it!” his partner shouted down at you, rifling through his bag for something. “We don’t want to hurt ya!”

You shot a knee up as hard as you could and caught the man over you in the tailbone. When he doubled over forward, swearing with his face growing more and more red, you did the only thing you could think of and headbutted him in the face. Hard. As hard as you could.

His nose crunched sickeningly and started to bleed profusely. He let out an anguished scream while you were seeing stars. Fat, crimson drops fell down onto you as you struggled, still beneath him. You were trying to extract your body from beneath his but his weight was too much. He was now completely enraged and the next thing you felt was his hands around your neck, squeezing, compressing. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to break out of it but his hands were so large they wrapped completely around your neck, compressing blood vessels and your airway. Your scratched and clawed at his hands, trying desperately to pull them away. You started to see spots and darkening around the edges of your vision. You clawed at his arms with your fingernails and tried to break his grip at the elbows. You were vaguely aware of some commotion in the background as your struggling grew weaker by the second. You were going to black out.

But suddenly, you could breathe and the weight of him on top of you was gone.

You curled over on the floor, coughing and sputtering, gasping in rasping breaths desperately.

“Y/N! Y/N!?” Daryl’s voice nearby, completely frantic.

You couldn’t stop coughing. Your throat was on fire. Your neck felt raw.

“Jesus—can ya breathe?!” Daryl’s urgent voice again. You felt his hand on your shoulder.

You finally managed to gain control of your gasping breaths again and rasped out. “I’m okay,” nodding but unable to look over at him. You submitted to another coughing attack. Your gasps were wheezes like a kid with asthma.

Daryl was kneeling beside you with his crossbow in his hand. “Are ya sure?!”

You finally glanced over at him, certain your face was bright red and your expression desperate. His features were overwhelmed with panic and concern, blue eyes piercing through the curtain of dark hair around his face. You nodded. “Uhh… I think so. Mostly.” You winced, feeling pain suddenly shooting through your wrist and ribs and a pounding in your forehead as the wave of adrenaline had crested and now started to diminish. “Fuck… What the fuck?” you said, glancing around. There were the bodies of the two men, both with a crossbow bolt through their head.

Daryl clenched his teeth and gently grasped your arm. “C’mon.” He pulled you gingerly to your feet. You stayed hunched over, an arm wrapped around your ribs. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to steel yourself for a moment.

“Fuck…” you muttered again, not even meaning to speak it out loud.

Daryl froze, looking at you with his brow furrowed. His stomach was rolling with regret. “I—'M’ sorry. I should have been faster. I—but this goddamn ankle and I had to get my bow loaded and—”

You raised a hand to quiet him and shook your head. “S’not your fault. At all,” you said, pressing a few fingers to a particularly raw feeling spot on your neck.

But Daryl was blaming himself. He should have been there faster. The angry red marks around your throat were burning into his memory. He bit back his anger at himself and re-secured the front door as best he could. He glared down at the two corpses and retrieved his bolts. He nudged his head in the direction of the other room.

You followed him in, still hunched over. He pointed at the couch and you sank down onto it slowly, hissing through your teeth with each movement.

Daryl set his crossbow down and immediately grabbed his pack. As he was digging around inside it, he spoke with some anxiousness. “Ya know them?” he asked, not looking up from his bag.

You gulped. “What?”

All his movement stalled, his hands still inside his pack, clutching medical supplies. “They sounded like they recognized ya. Said you’re ‘comin’ back where ya belong.’ Did ya—d’ya know them?” When he finished the question, this time his eyes flickered up to your face, watching your reaction carefully.

You were gingerly holding your wrist in the other hand and Daryl thought your eyes looked a bit frantic. You didn’t answer. You seemed—frozen.

Daryl nodded and shrugged, turning back to the pack. “S’alright. Ya ain’t gotta say.” He felt like he pretty much had his answer. “What hurts?” he asked you gently.

You didn’t answer for a moment and Daryl thought he saw waves of panic rising and falling in your eyes.

“Y/N—” he said again.

You seemed to come back to reality, grounded by the sound of his voice saying your name. “Umm… right. I—my wrist. I think that’s the only thing we can do something for. Nothing to do about my ribs,” you said with a wince, your breath hitching every time you tried to inhale too deeply.

Daryl pulled out some gauze and materials to splint your wrist, which he suspected was broken, based on the swelling and how it was already changing colors. “We need to get ya back to an actual doctor,” he mused. “Tomorrow I’ll see if I can find a car close. We can take it back to our truck. Can’t let that wrist go too long without gettin’ set.” His eyes continually found the ring of angry red around your neck and he watched as you pressed a hand to your head, which was pounding.

“You can’t go out there by yourself. You’ve got a fucked-up ankle,” you argued.

Daryl shot you a look and heaved a sigh, leaning his arm on his bent knee where he was crouched. “Well, now out of the two of us I’m in the best shape. So, we’re gonna do what I say and you’re gonna sit here and rest. Ya got a broken wrist and probably some cracked ribs. Not to mention that fucker nearly choked the life out of ya.” His tone told you arguing was pointless. “Now gimme your damn arm.”

You avoided his eyes and held out your hurt wrist. His rough hands on your skin was grounding and you were again reminded of how he had insisted on stitching your arm up that night when you came back after your last bad run-in outside the walls. He was amazingly gentle. You marveled at how small your arm looked in his hands—like something fragile. Daryl was trying to minimize the skin-to-skin contact—almost fearful of what was happening inside him every time his skin brushed yours, but it was a little difficult to do while he was tending to you. He splinted and wrapped your wrist, frowning at the way your thumb was already bruising purple. “Ya scared the shit outta me,” he murmured softly, not even meaning for it to actually fall from his lips.

You raised your eyes to his face in surprise but he was still fixated on bandaging you up. “I’ll, uhh, try not to do it again,” you said, and Daryl was relieved to hear that your voice had relaxed some, though the rasp was still in it.

“Better not,” he growled. He grabbed a small gauze pad and poured a little alcohol on it. “Here. Ya got a pretty good scratch on your jaw there.” He scooted closer to you and watched as you swiped a few fingers over it.

“Oh,” you said, looking at the rusty color that came away on your fingers. “Probably did that to myself trying to pry him off of me…”

Daryl’s expression darkened. “Mhm.” He hesitated a moment before dabbing at the scratch with the pad. “Really. Ya scared me.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Rosita exclaimed as she heaved the gate open to let you and Daryl into Alexandria. “Thank God!” she exclaimed next, looking both of you up and down. “Rick was about to send out a search party. We’ve all been worried sick. Aaron has been driving me insane, coming up to the gate every ten seconds to ask if I’ve seen anything.” Her eyes finally seemed to register the full extent of your injuries and she froze. “Y/N—your neck… Oh my God. What the hell happened?” she pressed, shutting and latching the gate behind you both.

“Uhh…” you walked unevenly, your uninjured arm wrapped around your ribs, though it did nothing to lessen the shooting hot knives of pain with every breath. “Walkers. And then more walkers. And then a corpse and rotten floor boards. And then—” you hesitated., suddenly feeling sick.

“And then people,” Daryl finished gruffly, sparing a glance over at you, his face darkening with worry.

“Shit,” Rosita said, her eyes going round. “A corpse? As in, not a walker? And did you say something about rotten floor boards?”

You nodded. “Yeah...”

Daryl shot her a look that clearly said ‘later.’

“Sorry—just… I need to get to the doctor to fix my wrist before it heals this way,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“Right! Right, of course. I’ll grab someone else for guard duty and go tell everyone you’re alright. Here, I’ll take your guns.” You and Daryl handed over your weapons and Rosita hurried off.

You limped your way to the clinic and he insisted on holding the door open for you and letting you go in first. Surprisingly, Pete was still there. You always assumed he just was drunk after 4:30 pm.

“Whoa! Looks like we’re running a little ragged, huh? Come on in and sit down and let’s have a look at you,” he said jovially. You eyed him with distaste.

“Where’s Denise?” you asked.

Pete looked around the room dramatically, hands outstretched. “Not here. So, shall we—”

“I would prefer to see Denise.” Your tone was cold.

Pete let out a laugh which he only managed to make sound half-genuine. “She isn’t here so—”

“I’ll wait,” you snapped. You limped over to an exam table and sat down, your countenance stormy.

Pete glanced at Daryl and he shook his head. “Nah. Just her. I’m good. Sprained ankle is all.”

Pete let out an exhale that was mostly a growl. “I guess I went to med school to be an errand boy,” he muttered under his breath, but nonetheless, he left to find Denise.

Daryl sank down on a rolling stool and scooted over to sit near you. “Hey,” he said suddenly.

You snapped out of some deep reverie you were having and looked at him.

“Ya alright?” he asked. “Really. I mean, that was some serious shit that happened out there…”

You nodded. “Fine.” You uninjured hand went to absently touch the bruises on your neck, which were now dark and mottled. “Thanks to you.”

Daryl shrugged. “S’nothin’. Wish I had been faster.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “No. No, it was definitely something…” Despite your assurance that you were okay, Daryl had the sense that it wasn’t entirely true. You were alive, sure, but since those men had busted into the house you had been uneasy. It wasn’t lost on him that you turned to glance behind the truck the whole drive back to Alexandria, and even now, safe inside the walls, you were rigid and on edge. You should have known better than to try and bullshit Daryl. The archer was annoyingly good at reading you. But, to be fair, you were also annoyingly good at reading him.

Your eyes shot up as the clinic door burst open loudly. Aaron ran in with his mouth dropped partially open and wide eyes. “Oh, thank God,” he said, rushing over to you and Daryl and immediately grabbing you into a tight hug.

“Ow! Ow ow ow! Aaron!”

Aaron drew back suddenly at your exclamations. “Oh—God, I’m sorry.” His eyes found the bruising on your neck and his face blanched. “Oh my God. What the hell happened? Are you alright?” he asked desperately.

“Define alright,” Daryl murmured.

You shot him a scolding look. “Yes, that’s what I need. Worry him more. Thanks, Daryl,” you said.

“What happened?” Aaron asked desperately again. It wasn’t lost on him how you avoided his eyes as you answered.

“Just—people. Bad people,” you said.

He stared at the dark purple bruising on your thumb and the splint before glancing over at Daryl.

“If Daryl hadn’t been there—” you broke off, giving Aaron a somewhat fearful look.

Aaron looked back at the archer again and heaved a heavy sigh. “I won’t hug you,” he said, cracking a smile, “but thank you. Thank you.”

Daryl nodded.

“Okay, I promised Eric I would come right back with an update so, umm—I’m gonna go, but thank God you’re back and you’re at least mostly whole,” he said, backing toward the door again. “Thank you,” he said again, looking at Daryl.

You let out a small laugh as the door shut behind him, shaking your head, smiling fondly.

“You’re close,” Daryl said. “With him and Eric.”

You nodded. “Yeah. When they first brought me in, I used to joke that I was like a stray cat they found and adopted. I felt so out of place, you know? And they just—they didn’t care. They just accepted me right away. Made it feel a little more like a home. They’re good like that. They understand what it’s like to be an outsider.”

Daryl nodded. He knew exactly what you meant.

Denise came in with Pete trailing after her. She looked a bit harried and you apologized for having her come in, to which she just gave you a small smile and a meaningful glance. She was well aware of your feelings toward Pete and she shared them… He stood lurking around in case Denise had questions.

“Okaaaay,” she said, gingerly unwrapping your wrist, wincing at the sight of the swelling and bruising. “Yup. This needs to be set…” she said gently, glancing over at Daryl who was still sitting nearby, his blue eyes taking in everything like he was standing guard. “Okay, Y/N, just lay back.” You obeyed, letting out a wry laugh and a forced exhale at the pain shooting through your ribs. Denise muttered an apology as she palpated your arm with her fingers. “Um. Okay. Daryl, I’m going to need you to hold her arm down while I—”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you teased Denise, a smirk on your face. She pulled a face at you, drawing a laugh which made you clutch at your ribs again and mutter a pitiful “ow.”

“Do you know you’re my least favorite patient?” she retorted jokingly. “Daryl. Come on.” Pete stepped forward, clearly annoyed.

“Are you sure you don’t want an actual--”

You cut him off. “Last I checked, Denise went to fucking med school. And for the last time you aren’t touching me.” Pete muttered something and backed off but he remained nearby watching.

“Ya ready?” Daryl rumbled, his strong hands firmly pressing your arm down against the table.

You nodded and focused on his blue eyes. “Sure…” you said, your voice coming out a little high with nerves and apprehension at the anticipated pain.

Denise didn’t give you a countdown or anything. She just forced the bone back into place. “MOTHERFUCKER!” you yelled, shooting upright on the exam table as soon as Daryl’s hands lifted off your arm. It felt like someone had rammed a red-hot poker into your arm. “Mmmm,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing breaths in and out.

“Done! Done!” Denise said. “See! Not so bad!”

You let out another sardonic laugh. “Easy for you to say.” She immediately fitted you with a stiff brace and instructions to limit use of your wrist and hand for four to six weeks.

“Six weeks,” you repeated. “Are you frickin’ kidding me?” You stared at her, incredulous.

“It’s a broken bone, Y/N, not a bumped elbow,” Denise said as she adjusted the brace.

You looked at the archer beside you for assistance but found none. “Six weeks?” you repeated again. You scoffed. “I’m going to lose my freakin’ mind in here. I can’t—I can’t shoot. I can’t go outside the walls… I can’t even write. It’s my dominant hand.” You let out a frustrated growl. “I might as well be a frickin’ baby,” you growled.

“Kinda are bein’ one right now,” Daryl rumbled. Your eyes snapped over to him and you managed to catch the quick twitch of the corner of his mouth in a rare smirk.

You shot him an unamused look. “I don’t know why you’re so entertained, chuckles. You’re benched too.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Ya heard her, though. Four to six weeks.” You read genuine concern on his face and sighed.

“Yeah, yeah… I heard her,” you mumbled.

Denise laughed. “Alright. I see your neck… Nothing we can do about that,” she said with a wince. “God. That looks painful.”

You pressed your uninjured hand to it, reflexively covering it up as you felt Daryl’s eyes hitch on the bruises and stay there. “It’s not too bad.”

“Okay, anything else?” Denise asked.

You hesitated for a moment. Daryl didn’t know just how bad your side was and you weren’t real keen on him seeing the extent of the injury from the man kicking you. “Umm… Yeah. Uhh—I think I have some broken ribs maybe and—” you gulped, but you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it so Denise could see your side.

Daryl immediately stiffened in anger as he saw the extent of the black and purple bruising all up your side. He actually let out what sounded like a low growl before averting his eyes. You noticed his hands clenching and unclenching into fists and he was suddenly restless.

“Oh my God… I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Denise said, her eyes flickering up to yours. She gently palpated your side. “I don’t feel anything concerning beyond the bruising and normal swelling—how did this happen?” she asked you quietly.

You were about to answer when there was suddenly a commotion as Daryl strode over to Pete and pushed him hard in the chest, making him stagger backwards. “Hey!” Daryl roared, posturing toward the surgeon. “What the hell are ya lookin’ at?” You and Denise stared at the two men in confusion and surprise. “We don’ need ya, so why don’ ya just get the hell outta here,” Daryl rumbled, flicking a hand in the direction of the door.

For a moment, Pete looked like he was considering hitting Daryl but he finally just clenched his jaw and left the clinic, slamming the door unnecessarily hard behind him.

Daryl turned to see you and Denise staring at him in confusion. He paced a little uncomfortably. “He was—I didn’t like how he was lookin’ at ya,” Daryl finally spat out.

You felt your cheeks color and averted your eyes from the archer. Apparently when you had lifted your shirt, revealing the bare skin from your waistband to the strap of your bra Pete’s eyes had been a little too hungry, a little too searching, and had lingered a little too long for Daryl’s taste.

You didn’t know what to say. The air in the room was thick and heavy with tension. Denise finally cleared her throat a little awkwardly and broke it. “Okay, I’m serious about the wrist. I’m going to give you some heavy-duty painkillers and anti-inflammatory meds to take for the next five days. If you feel any changes in your side or abdomen you come get me, okay? I’m serious.”

You nodded and Daryl rushed over to help you climb down on the table, hardly noticing the ache in his ankle anymore. You felt another flush in your cheeks as he gently gripped your elbow. “Thanks, Denise.”

She nodded. “Daryl, you’re sure you don’t need me to look at that ankle?”

He shook his head. “Nah. ‘M good. Just gonna get Y/N home so she can rest.”

“You too,” Denise said, pointing vehemently at him.

You walked, or hobbled more like, the distance back to your house with Daryl in silence. It still felt a little heavy, a little uneasy, like the air was holding things unsaid, but finally you climbed the steps and to the front door. You gave him a small smile, but there was something like apprehension in your eyes as you thanked him for all his help. “You know, I’ve known you only a short while and I think you have now officially saved my ass and patched me up more than anyone,” you muttered.

“Yeah, well…” he shrugged. “I think it’s about the same in reverse.” Daryl left with a hollow feeling in his chest as the heavy clunk of the deadbolt secured your door behind you.

Carol was waiting on the front porch and immediately grabbed him into a tight hug. “You scared us,” she said, holding him back to take him in, her eyes searching for injury. “Rosita told us you were back but nothing else. Are you okay?”

“’M Fine. Better than, Y/N,” he said, nudging his head toward your house across the street.

Carol’s brow furrowed. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed, a noise meaning he didn’t want to talk about it. He dug in his pocket for a cigarette and allowed Carol to gently push his hair out of his face and clasp his shoulder, before he stiffened and moved away to sit on the steps. She knew that meant he wanted to be alone, wanted time to think.

“I’m glad you’re both back and at least mostly in one piece. We’ll be inside if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” the archer murmured. Daryl sat there most of the night, smoking the cigarettes he had left and staring at your dark house, wondering if you were awake like he was.

You were.

The next day, Daryl found Rick in the kitchen in the afternoon. He’d already explained what had transpired outside the walls, why you had both been so delayed. Rick had listened carefully and firmly grasped his shoulder, telling him how relieved he was that Daryl was back safe and that you were too. His words seemed a little pointed, but Daryl shied away from it. But now, after being unable to think of anything else all day, he had a question to ask Rick.

“Hey,” Daryl said, finding Rick in the kitchen, trying to convince Judith to eat something as she squirmed in his arms.

“Hey, Daryl. What is it?” Rick perceived something in the archer’s expression as soon as he glanced up at him.

Daryl scruffed a hand awkwardly through his hair. “Y/N’s interview. With Deanna, when Aaron first brought her in. Did ya watch it?”

Rick nodded, his face falling. “Yeah… I did. I think I watched just about everybody’s.”

Daryl shifted his body weight anxiously from one foot to the other and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide the vulnerability he felt while showing such obvious interest in you and your story. “Well… what—what was on it?”

Rick sighed, finally giving up on coaxing Judith to eat, and set her down on the floor on a blanket. He stood and hung his thumbs in his pockets, staring down at his boots for a moment. “You want to watch it?” he asked the archer, glancing up to take in his expression.

Daryl shrugged and let out a non-committal hum.

Rick studied his friend’s expression. “Whatever you’re lookin’ for… Whatever answer… It isn’t on there. But you can watch it if you want,” Rick offered. “Ya saw somethin’ out there that has you worried. I can see that. You can tell me if you want to, but I also understand if you don’t. Y/N is… private… about whatever happened to her before this, before here.”

Daryl swallowed at the tightness in his throat and considered Rick’s words. He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, his face dark. “I ain’t worried about us,” he clarified. “I ain’t worried about Alexandria.”

Rick nodded. “Just about her.”

Daryl shrugged and avoided the look in Rick’s eyes, which was something surprised but knowing. “We’ll do our best to keep her safe,” Rick said.

Daryl nodded and this time when he glanced up at his friend there was a fire in his blue eyes, a fierceness. “Ya. We will.”