#like it’s been a thing from the beginning that it’s difficult for him to

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 7 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!!! This one is coming a little earlier than usual because I am more anxious to update than y'all are anxious to read lmao Past chapter had so many comments!!! I'm glad you guys liked it so much. It was such a fun chapter to write! Hope y'all will like this one as much! ALSO checks page HOW MANY KUDOS??? WHAT THE HELL??? 😭😭 Thank you so much!!! It truly means so much to me 😭😭 Anyway let me shut up lol enjoy!! <3

⤕  Chapters: check masterlist in bio!  ⤕ Also on AO3

Guilt was a feeling Alucard avoided vehemently.

After you reach a certain age, you realize that there are some feelings and situations that you should avoid for your own sanity. One of them – perhaps the most important – is to avoid thinking too much about the past. One thing is to cherish the people you’ve met and loved, to keep some moments close to your heart; another thing is refuse that they will never come back and to avoid facing the present. Alucard knew quite well that this can sink you. That’s why he was constantly busying himself – traveling the world, meeting new cultures, learning new things.

Another thing he avoided – this one took him a long time to learn, a whole lot of grief to understand – was to… get too attached. And yes, this made him lonelier than ever. Yes, this wasn’t entirely healthy. He knew about all that. But his mortal heart wasn’t strong like his immortal body, and there was a moment in his life when he decided that he couldn’t take much more pain anymore. Stepping away from the Belmonts was… difficult, but was what the needed at the moment. He needed to let his heart heal, and the only thing that heals is time. Perhaps much more time than he first assumed.

And then there was guilt. Alucard didn’t like to feel guilt because it meant that he failed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t someone that could fail. His ways of life, his fights, the things he stood for usually involved countless innocent lives, so he couldn’t give himself the luxury of failing. Alucard was methodical, precise, insistent – not to say stubborn. Because yes, he could he stubborn –; he only accepted perfection of himself. Him succeeding meant no one suffered. Therefore, no guilt.

That’s why Alucard was partially hating himself at that moment. He’d felt more guilt in the span of 48 hours than in the last few years.

He almost couldn’t look at Ruby in the eye.

Luckily, she was sitting behind him as he guided the horse on the streets of Paris, so he wouldn’t have too see her for some moments – but her arms around his waist and the warmth of her body were a reminder that she was there.

His feelings were a bit… chaotic at the moment, to be honest. On one hand, he was glad – relieved – that Ruby had healed. On the other hand, he knew that the reason why she got so hurt in the first place was because of him. He told her she wouldn’t get hurt and he weren’t there to protect her, even if she claimed to have jumped in front of a night creature to save Annette. And then there was the other part of him (the methodical, precise and stubborn part of him) hissing that he shouldn’t be wasting time going to the Louvre because there was an army of vampires coming and he had to act.

But Alucard couldn’t tell her no. Not really. Not when she looked at him with that glow in her eyes – a glow of hope he hadn’t seen in her yet. Alucard couldn’t bring himself to be so cruel. Especially not after what she’d been through mere hours ago.

He owed her that.

Ruby was becoming a bigger mystery to him in more complicated ways than he first assumed. It didn’t involve only her unknown past, but also her behavior. It was difficult for him to understand how she was acting so normal after what she had just suffered. Sure, the methodical part of him was thankful to that – he had to act fast; quite frankly, he wouldn’t have time to wait until she recovered. If her healing took longer than it did, he would have a real problem at hands, and if she was frozen in shock, it would also be a problem.

But then there was his mortal heart speaking into his mind, too. It never shut up, unfortunately.

There was something so deeply wrong with Ruby.

The more time he spent with her, the more he watched her, the more he heard her heart race and her fingers shake at the most casual situations – like walking into a crowd or mustering courage to speak –, the more he realized that Ruby didn’t have any care for herself, the angrier he got.

Alucard also avoided getting too angry. Anger was a form of attachment as well; it tied the ones he despised to him. Anger could take a person like him – eternal and powerful – down a very dangerous path. Anger led to wrath, which let to hatred.

But again… it was getting hard for Alucard to keep his feelings in place. Not when he could still feel the now faint smell of Ruby’s blood.

In fact, he thought she was going to die.

Her blood was everything Alucard could feel the moment he stepped out of the Seine. He knew it was Ruby’s; he got quite familiar with it due to that scratch on her heel as they walked to Juste’s cottage. It was so strong that he almost could see the air turning red. It must’ve drawn the attention of every vampire in the area.

And then he rushed to the palace and saw her in that state.

She can heal, Alucard tried to convince himself, but could she, really? He’d seen her heal from cuts, not multiple fractures and mass bleeding. Those wounds meant death to any human and vampire, unless they could drink blood to strengthen their healing process.

Alucard barely knew her. He was still a tiny bit suspicious of her – of her cloudy past, at least. And yet, the thought of Ruby dying scared him.

Not many things scared him.

Death was one of those things. Not the fear of facing death himself, but having to watch someone close to him die. Alucard was far too familiar with the feeling and he never got used to it.

If Ruby had died at that moment, he’d carry that scar with him for a long time. She didn’t even had a chance to live. She didn’t even remember if she had lived before her imprisonment. If Ruby had died, it wouldn’t only be painful; it would be unfair.

So yes, he got scared. Yes, he held her close and tried to ease her pain – Hell, she looked in so much pain, even if she didn’t scream – because it was the only thing he could do. The Universe couldn’t be so cruel to that woman to just let her die like that. It… it couldn’t.

To his utter relief, Ruby healed. Her skin closed the wounds, the bleeding stopped, she finally passed out and slept for a bit.

Mixed with his relief was also confusion.

Her healing was far more powerful than Alucard first assumed. Alucard didn’t know many vampires that could heal from injuries so serious.

What was Ruby?

Why did she have this strange condition? How did she achieve it? For what end?

Alucard wanted to know. He needed to know. Erzsebet must’ve had a reason not only to keep her, but also to want to retrieve her.

The white-haired vampire instinctively held the reins a bit tighter as he remembered Drolta.

Ruby’s face of pure panic. Fuck, he couldn’t take her expression off his mind. The way Drolta was twirling that necklace around her finger. A ruby necklace. Everything made sense at that moment.

Her nonchalance after getting injured, the little care she had for herself, her fear and hesitance…

These things were growing on him in an ugly way.

A week ago, Erzsebet and Drolta were just two maniacal cult leaders that needed to be stopped. It wasn’t exactly personal. Alucard had dealt with vampires like them many times in his life.

Now, however, he not only needed to stop them – he wanted to kill them.

And this time, he would make sure that they were gone. He would personally make sure that Drolta was actually dead. He would make sure to slash her head off her neck and burn her body to ashes.

He would make sure to shatter that necklace to pieces.

Alucard couldn’t heal Ruby’s soul, but he hoped that their death, at least, would bring her some peace.

Alucard pulled the reins and made the horse gallop significantly slower until it stopped.

“What’s the problem?” Ruby asked close to his ear as she tried to peek ahead over his shoulder.

“The streets around the palace are blocked.” Alucard tightened his eyes a bit. Soldiers barricaded the entrance to the front square of the Louvre, trying to keep a crowd of curious people away. The man let a tired sigh. “Well, I guess I should’ve expected it.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “We’ll have to sneak in by foot.” Ruby nodded. She dismounted from the horse first, being shortly followed by him.

Alucard wandered his eyes around the crowd. They chatted suspiciously among themselves. “I heard an attack happened,” someone said, while another person murmured that “my cousin’s a guard, he told me it were the royalists that wanted to avenge the King,” or someone else said “This is all fake! It’s just to keep our attention here. Another faction is planning to take the country overnight as we speak!”

But then, some young voices caught his attention the most. Three boys discussed excitedly among themselves.

“He’s obviously lying,” the boy in the middle said, crossing his arms and frowning. “Don’t believe him.”

“I’m tellin’ ya!” The shortest of the three insisted, gesticulating excitedly. “I saw a dragon flyin’ inside the palace. Then, some minutes later, I saw another winged thing flying away!”

“It could’ve been a bird.”

“It wasn’t a bird! Never seen a bird so big in my life!”

“Your eyesight isn’t even that good anyway. He said he saw a crocodile in the Seine last week, remember?”

“Hey– you said you saw it, too!”

Alucard couldn’t help but feel a bit of his tension dissipate. The sight was... a bit familiar.

He made a sharp whistle, immediately calling the three boys’ attention.

“Do you lads mind watching my horse for a while?” Alucard said, still holding the reins with one hand. He shook the small coin pouch in his palm.

Their eyes immediately gleamed excitedly. They clumsily made their way to approach him, bumping into each other and grinning.

“Of course, sir!” The shortest one saluted Alucard as if he were a soldier.

The tallest one, noticing Ruby standing near, bowed awkwardly, pinching the tip of his worn out beret. “Mademoiselle,” he said in a high pitched voice. Then, his eyes rapidly traveled from her to Alucard, and he coughed. “I mean– madame.” The two other boys imitated his action like tiny echoes, all equally clumsy.

They earned an endeared smile from her. She held her skirt and bobbed a small curtsy graciously in return.

The three blushed.

Alucard inhaled a small chuckle.

“We won’t take long, so stay in the area.” The white-haired vampire said, catching the boys’ attention again. The shortest one seemed to be some sort of leader of the group, as he was the one to approach and hold the reins. Alucard swiftly placed a coin on each of their open palms. “Rest of the payment when I get back.”

“Thank you, sir!” They said in unison, eyes glued in their shiny coins.

The one that looked the oldest tightened his eyes. “Hm, may I ask, sir, what exactly is your business here? The palace is blocked, as you can see.”

Alucard tightened his eyes at him, too. “I certainly see that it’s blocked, and I certainly wouldn’t advise you boys to get any closer to it.” Then, he dropped his voice, his tone picking their attention once again. “I wonder, however, if you were to get closer to it, which street would you pick?”

They eyed each other. The tallest boy coughed again.

“Well, if I were to get closer to it, I would pick an alley behind the Perrault street… most people don’t gather around there, so…”

“...Less guards,” the oldest completed.

Alucard nodded. He placed one more coin on each of their hands. They giggled.

He pointed ahead with his head to Ruby. However, as he was turning around to leave, he stopped and looked at them.

“By the way, what you saw is correct,” Alucard said in a quiet, serious voice. They all froze. “But that wasn’t a dragon; it was a demon. The city is in danger. When we get back, you boys should get your families and hide.”

He didn’t wait to see the boys’ reaction. Ruby, however, lingered her gaze a little longer on them before following him.

A quiet sadness clouded her eyes, made her shoulders drop a bit. She interlocked her hands on her lower stomach as she walked. It seemed to be a standard quirk of hers, besides the one of gripping her skirt when she was nervous. This specific movement as she walked, however, was very… polite.

Alucard didn’t exactly like it.

Not because he didn’t appreciate good manners. Ruby was, in fact, very gracious in anything she did – from her impeccable posture at all times to the way she sat or the way she ate, the way she held cutlery, the way she never raised her voice too much, or even how she insisted in calling him sir when they first met. She had the good manners of a high society lady.

But Alucard knew that all of this was a product of what she had endured. Making herself smaller, quieter, imperceptible. Ruby didn’t do any of that to impress anyone or to fit into some sort of societal standard. She did it because she was afraid of bringing any attention upon her.

The more he observed her, the more he caught himself silently wishing Ruby would… slouch. Raise her voice, show anger or tiredness or boredom. Make it clear when she didn’t like something or voice her opinions without becoming a puddle of anxiety.

That’s one of the reasons why Alucard couldn’t bring himself to say no when she asked to go to the Louvre. Most of the time, she wasn’t brave enough to speak her mind and make requests. She felt comfortable enough at that moment to ask him. And… Alucard actually hated it, but he had also noticed that, sometimes, Ruby flinched away from him and seemed scared when he showed annoyance or moved too abruptly. Unfortunately, he still had similar physical traits of the ones who hurt her so much. The fact that she was growing comfortable around him made him feel… content.

Ruby looked down. “Poor kids. Their clothes are so worn out…”

“This is the situation for most children in this country. That is mainly why the revolution started.”

“...I guess Richter was right. How can a king have a palace this big while his people die of hunger?” She took some moments to speak again. “And if Erzsebet succeeds… she will make things worse.”

Alucard nodded. “Yes. But she won’t, because we’ll stop her.” He pointed with his finger to a nearby street. “Let’s go.”

They quickened their pace, keeping silent for most of the way. Most streets were crowded by a mass of curious people; the news traveled fast, and it seemed that everyone forgot about the execution earlier and decided to gather at this part of the city. Paris was drowned in chaos. Most soldiers were too worried trying to quiet down the population. How could they even prepare for the incoming battle?

Finally, they arrived at the alley the boy had mentioned – and the little bastard was right. It was a dirty small alley where most people avoided, only being guarded by two soldiers that weren’t paying much attention to their job.

At last, Alucard stopped walking in a spot out of their sight. The back view of the palace was just ahead. He turned around and looked down at Ruby, sending her a hesitant look.

“My apologies, but I will need to do that again.”

She widened her eyes slightly. “Oh. Okay.”

“...Do you think you can handle it this time?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine.” She was clearly lying. Well, there was nothing he could do about that.

Alucard wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her up slightly to a point her feet weren’t touching the ground anymore. He narrowed his eyes, visualizing the path he would have to make.

A familiar red glow enveloped his body–

He sprinted through the alley, passing in between both guards so fast that they didn’t even understand what was happening; to them it was just a sudden, violent gush of wind that made their hats fly away and their eyes widen in confusion.

And just like that, they were within the palace’s gardens.

Alucard put Ruby on the floor again. She was visibly dizzy, so he still held her arm for support. She blinked several times, as if trying to fade the vertigo away.

“It… wasn’t that bad this time,” she lied again. It didn’t look like she wanted to vomit this time, though. Alucard smiled slightly and let go of her arm.

“Do you remember in which room you found the artifact?” He asked quietly, worrying that anyone would hear them. He didn’t want to have to confront any human.

“The same where I was trying to hide in,” Ruby looked around the tall building. “The night creature came crashing through the window. We can use it to get in.”

Alucard nodded, trying to remember in what section of the palace that was…

Then he realized that he didn’t need to remember anything, because the scent of her blood was still very much in the air. They didn’t even have time to clean it. Alucard turned his head in the direction where the scent was stronger.

“There. Let’s go.”

They walked fast, Alucard always placing his body in front of her, walking near the wall under the windows to not get caught. They crossed paths with some guards, but luckily were not seen. He wondered why the hell did that place need to be so horizontally big.

Finally, the sight of a destroyed window appeared ahead. As the building had a double height ceiling, it’d be necessary to climb to get through the window. Alucard gesticulated for Ruby to wait. His sword unsheathed itself and floated up; through the reflection on the shiny iron, he saw that although the doors were opened, the gallery was empty.

Alucard once again wrapped his arm around her waist and floated, graciously passing through the window. As soon as their feet landed on the floor, he nodded his head softly; the double doors closed and locked.

He let go of her and she stepped aside.

The gallery was absolutely destroyed; debris and glass everywhere, broken pieces of the wooden crates, rags of once was a curtain around the floor, statues and paintings destroyed… and blood. A lot of blood.

Ruby widened her eyes at the sight of her own dried blood over the floor. It seems she hadn’t realized how much she bled. She gulped and averted her gaze somewhere else.

“It seems they didn’t start to clean things up yet,” she stated the obvious in a nervous tone.

“They’re probably measuring the damage first. It’ll take them a few days,” Alucard crossed his arms, his eyes wandering over the room. He, in fact, felt bad about all that. So many artifacts were destroyed during the fight… thousands of years of art and history went to waste. It was especially outrageous how Drolta didn’t care about the damage at the Egyptian gallery, given that she came from those same ancient times. She had no respect for her own culture anymore.

“Is it here?” he asked, paying attention to her again.

Ruby hummed quietly.

She walked towards the doors, looking for something on the floor. She tip toed around a pool of blood, trying to avoid stepping on it at all costs. Alucard followed her, albeit keeping a good distance so she could scoop the area without his interference.

Finally, she gasped and rushed to grab something at the corner of the room, near the wall. It was hidden behind a destroyed crate.

Ruby turned around, holding a golden scepter with both hands. Her eyes glowed with afraid amazement.

“This is it,” she confirmed.

They approached each other, meeting at the center of the gallery. Alucard analyzed the artifact she held. It was almost as tall as her with a symbol of the sun at its tip. Throughout the entire staff, there were tiny writings engraved. Although it was golden, it wasn’t much adorned; other than the symbol of the sun and the intricate sun rays in the form of curvy spikes, it was very plain. It appeared to be something used in religious ceremonies.

“What happened exactly when you held it for the first time?” He asked.

Ruby looked down at the scepter. “It was covered in rust. I didn’t even know what I was looking at. Then, when I held it, it got… hot. And it shone.”

“It shone?” Alucard quirked one eyebrow up.

“Yes. So bright that I had to close my eyes. And then… all the rust was gone.”

“And after that?”

Ruby pressed her lips together. “...Nothing. The night creature came in and I dropped it.”

Alucard nodded. “Do you feel anything strange right now?”

She shook her head slightly. “No.” She lifted the object closer to his eyes. “But, see? The writings? It’s that same language. Do you recognize what this is?”

Alucard narrowed his eyes. “Can I?”

Ruby handed him the scepter, which he held with both hands. It was quite heavy – actual pure gold. It was a miracle that the royal French family didn’t melt it, or whoever was in possession of the artifact it previously. He brought it close to his face, analyzing the scriptures.

The characters appeared to be organized vertically instead of horizontally, very similar to Mandarin or Japanese structures of writing. These characters, however, meant nothing to him. They weren’t rounded like Sanskrit, weren’t allusive of animals or nature like Egyptian hieroglyphs or ancient Mandarin, and they didn’t resemble the common Latin alphabet. At most, it reminded him a bit of Sumerian writing, given how simplistic the characters seemed to be – but if it really was Sumerian, Alucard would’ve known.

“You know how to read it, but don’t understand the meaning of the words?” Alucard asked without taking his eyes off the scepter.

“Yes.”

“So, each character means a sound.” Ruby nodded. Phonetic, as he suspected, since the characters repeated themselves over and over again.

“Do you have any idea of what it is?” she repeated, sounding hopeful.

Alucard pressed his lips together.

He really missed Sypha in moments like this.

She would’ve immediately known what it was – or at least, had an idea of how to start investigating the origins of this strange language. Alucard became quite good at learning new languages over the years, but not as good as her. Never.

It felt like there was an invisible cold hand pressing around his heart – like it did anytime he thought of her.

“Unfortunately no.” Alucard shook his head. Ruby’s shoulders dropped. “Let’s not be discouraged. This artifact definitely has magic in it; I can feel it.” Yes, it vibrated under his palm in a high frequency – a metaphysical frequency, like all magic things did. It didn’t reek of demonic magic or negative alchemy either. It felt quite neutral; Alucard couldn’t tell what type of magic it stored.

The white-haired vampire frowned.

“And it certainly doesn’t like me.”

Ruby tilted her head to the side, visibly confused. “What?”

There was a strange sensation in his gut. A certain aggressiveness. Alucard didn’t feel like the scepter could actually hurt him, but the bad feeling was there anyway. He handed the artifact back to Ruby; the moment it left his hands, the sensation was gone.

“Some magical items don’t accept being touched by anyone. Some can only be touched by their masters.”

“Like your sword?” She asked, eyeing the weapon that was still protectively floating near Alucard’s body.

“Precisely.” Alucard shrugged. “Or it just doesn’t like me because I am part vampire.” At her utter confusion, he decided to elaborate. “In magic terms, my existence is an aberration. A half-human, half-vampire being goes against the natural order.”

She pressed her lips and looked down. “...But it’s not your fault.”

Alucard chuckled softly. It sounded like she felt bad for him, which he found quite endearing. “The scepter doesn’t know it.”

They were interrupted when someone tried to open the doors. Both turned around immediately, Ruby visibly startled at the sudden sound.

“Who’s in there?” a male voice was heard from the other side. “Open the doors!”

“Let’s go,” Alucard hurried towards the window again. Yet, she froze in place.

“Do we take it with us?”

“Of course.”

“Isn’t it stealing?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed at her. Alucard stepped closer again. “Everything here was stolen from some other country, Ruby. They won’t miss it.”

And then, he was holding her close to his body again, floating out of the palace through the window. The sword obediently sheathed itself again. However, when he stepped foot on the grass, he didn’t let go of her.

“I’ll have to…”

“Yes. I understand,” she nodded before he could finish, tightening the scepter close to her chest.

Alucard felt a tiny bit bad for a moment before sprinting out of the palace’s gardens in a red blur. She seemed to handle the post-dizziness a bit better this time, though.

They hurried around the streets. Ruby held the artifact with nervousness.

“This thing isn’t exactly subtle,” she said between gritted teeth. Indeed. An object made of gold wasn’t something you could hold around and act nonchalant about.

“I can hide it under my cape if you want,” he offered, to which she shook her head.

“No. If it makes you feel bad, I’d rather not.” It seemed she really didn’t think before saying that, because she froze for a moment and immediately avoided his gaze.

Alucard knew that if he chuckled it’d make her feel bad, so he swallowed it.

They didn’t take long to reach their destination with their fast pace. The street appeared a bit less crowded now. And there they were – the three boys sitting on the sidewalk, the horse obediently beside them. They got up in a jump.

“Here it is, sir!” The tallest presented.

“We took care of it. See?” The oldest boasted.

“Some men even wanted to take it away, but we fought valiantly!” It was the youngest’ turn to lie with a grin.

Alucard opened a small smile and took the reins again. “You did a good job, indeed. As promised, the rest of the payment.”

Their grins got even bigger when the white-haired vampire deposited two more coins each over their open palms.

The shortest of the group then cleaned his throat and stepped further towards Ruby. He had both hands behind his back and an already apparent blush over his cheeks.

“Hm, sir! Respectfully!”

“Respectfully!” The tallest one reinforced. He fiddled with his beret nervously.

“We got madame a gift!”

“Out of respect!” The oldest one reinforced again.

The three eyed Alucard with much apparent nervousness, waiting for his… permission. Ruby looked down at the boys with quiet confusion.

Oh, this was getting funny.

Alucard shrugged and nodded. The three boys smiled again and turned to Ruby. Once again, the shortest cleaned his throat.

“Madame! We were attentively taking care of the horse when we saw something that could suit you!”

“I saw it,” the oldest one elbowed him.

“But it was my idea,” the short one hissed back before turning to her again. “Anyway, hm, here it is!”

Finally, he unveiled what he was hiding behind his back in an extravagant gesture: a lily flower.

Alucard looked behind them. On the other side of the street, under a windowsill, there was a vase full of lilies. He had to cross his arms and lower his head, trying to muffle a laugh.

“It matches your ribbon, madame,” the oldest remarked.

“I was the one to pick it. None of them could reach it but me,” the tallest said with pride.

Ruby watched the three boys with a bit of shock for some seconds.

Then, she smiled.

Not one of her small, timid smiles. For the first time, that smile reached her eyes, too. For the first time, it seemed that she wasn’t embarrassed for smiling; for the first time, her giggle wasn’t dry. Wasn’t clouded by sadness.

Alucard knew that it was the first time he was seeing the real Ruby – the person she was underneath the trauma, the fear, the anxiety; the person she didn’t even know she was yet. And at that moment, the glow of the golden scepter got pale in comparison to her.

Ruby lowered herself to get to their eye level. She took the flower and placed it inside the small pocket of her vest, right above her heart.

“What are your names?” she asked.

“Victor,” the tallest said.

“Pierre,” the oldest one.

“Oliver,” the shortest.

Ruby repeated their names, then patted their heads, rubbing their hair softly.

“This is very sweet, boys. Thank you so much. I promise I’ll take care of your gift.”

It looked like the three boys forgot how to close their mouths. They stared at her in awe, their faces completely red, their three little hearts beating at a rapid pace.

Alucard couldn’t blame them. Not when his own heart missed a beat.

Three hundred years didn’t make him much better than a little boy, after all.

“Ruby.” He called quietly. “We should go.” She nodded and straightened her posture. Alucard turned to the boys, and they all seemed utterly embarrassed when his gaze fell over them. “I wasn’t joking about what I said earlier. Tell your parents about it. After the sun goes down, do not leave your homes.”

The three tensed up at his words, but nodded accordingly. The short one – Oliver – seemed to be the smartest, too; he was the only one that paid attention to Alucard’s mouth and had a fast glimpse of his fangs, which made him get pale. Well… if that helped send the message across, he was fine with it. They finally started walking away.

Ruby waved them goodbye and they waved back, clumsily bumping into each other and elbowing one another. At last, they ran into the crowd again.

A ghost of that smile still lingered on her lips as she turned to him, touching the flower with care. Alucard mimicked her small smile.

“You just made their day.”

She looked shy again, and it made Alucard regret saying that a bit; he didn’t want her to feel embarrassed of herself, not after what he had witnessed. “No, you made their day by paying them.”

Alucard shook his head softly and closed his eyes for a moment.

“It doesn’t even compare.”

He looked down at her again.

This time, instead of the skirt, she gripped the scepter nervously.

Still, Alucard sustained her gaze for a few more seconds. He… enjoyed this. He liked how her attention was frozen on him, even for these brief moments. He liked the sensation of having the world around him blur as if he entered a parallel universe until she’d finally look away.

Alucard knew himself all too well. He didn’t bring himself the trouble of being in denial about anything. It was also one of the things he learned over the years, for the sake of his own sanity.

He understood why the entire mission was becoming personal to him very fast. He understood that, behind his growing anger towards Drolta and Erzsebet, there was something else growing, too – though he wasn’t sure if he’d act on it. No; it was way too early to assume anything. There were still many mysteries to solve, too much at stake, too much trust to be gained on both ends… and way too many traumas to get through, too.

For now, Alucard was satisfied with these small moments of sweetness.

Finally, he took the reins again, and then they were in a crowded street of a city in chaos, and not in a quiet parallel universe.

“Let’s go… madame,” he said jokingly, imitating the honorific the boys repeated over and over again. Ruby chuckled, at least.

Alucard was under the impression that, if Ruby knew what the implications of being called a madame meant, she wouldn’t be so calm about it.

He’d like to keep it as his little secret for now.

[rainydayathogwarts]

that look on your face - draco malfoy

Draco Malfoy is the type of person to stay silent in a conversation when he has nothing to say. A neutral look on his face that would make those he wasn’t close to think he hated them. Sometimes that was the case, but most of the times it just meant he had nothing to say. That’s why it was so difficult to hide his feelings for you. Any time you joined in a conversation, laughing along with the group and saying nice things, Draco had a dreamy smile on his face, his eyes trained on the way your lips moved when you spoke and your eyes lit up when you remembered something.

The boys never let him live it down. Whenever Theo, Mattheo and Blaise cause sight of him staring at you with heart eyes, they had to elbow each other to hold in their laughs. Draco would be brought out of his daze, straightening his posture and fixing his face so you wouldn’t realise just how in love he was with you.

Salazar forbid that the four boys were ever alone (which happens quite often since they share a giant dorm), because they are instantly on Draco’s back about his obsession with you. “Draco, mate, you need to remember that Potions is your favourite subject. Focus on the class, not on her face.” Would enunciate Theo, speaking to him like a child while Blaise and Mattheo broke out in laughter “Or her tits!” Riddle would add. Draco would just have to sit there and take the harassment from him friends, his pale face burning red with embarrassment. There was no use for him to try and deny his feelings for you. To his friends, or even you for that matter, because it was just so painfully obvious.

That’s why it was also so easy and drama-free for you guys to become a couple, something that isn’t common in relationships between Slytherins. The two of you had just been sat in Draco’s dorm alone, studying for your upcoming exam, but it didn’t seem as though Draco had his head in the game. “You’re giving me that look again.” Draco’s face flushed in humiliation and he looked down at his textbook, except now you were looking up at him. “What look?” “The look that makes me want to kiss you no matter how many people are around.” You answered instantly. Draco’s eyes were instantly back on you, scanning your face to find a hint of lies on your face. When he decided you weren’t lying, both his hands were cupping your jaw to bring you into a soft yet hungry kiss.

The beginning of your relationship wasn’t the end of Draco’s obsession with you, no, it was just the beginning. Draco refused to move from your side unless he had a lesson. So whether it was breakfast, lunch, dinner, study sessions in the library, conversations in the common room, he was always glued to your side, his hands on your body in some way or another. His arm would usually be around your waist, or he’d have a soft hand on your thigh, but he always had the same look on his face when hearing you talk. A loving look with a soft smile gracing his lips. A look on his face so peaceful that when his mother saw you together for the first time, she pulled you away to tell you never to break her son’s heart.

Not that you were planning to.

[seongwars]

strangers by nature | viii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.5K Warnings: fluff, mentions of infidelity

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“You’ll need extensive physical therapy,” Dr. Jang said, flipping through his chart the day Mingi was to be discharged. 

“Walking will be difficult at first. You’ll experience weakness, dizziness, and possibly some coordination issues.”

Mrs. Song let out a sharp breath, bringing a hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. Beside her, Mr. Song reached over and placed a firm, reassuring hand on her arm. They had known this was coming, yet hearing it aloud made it all the more real.

“We’ll have to make arrangements,” his mother replied. “Oh, if he’s going to struggle, we can have the physical therapist come to the house.”

“There’s no need,” Mingi rasped, glancing over at you. “Y/N can help me.”

The entire room fell silent.

Dr. Jang stopped mid-page, his eyes flickering up over his glasses. The nurse who had been taking discharge notes blinked so fast it was almost comical. Even Mr. Song, ever composed, arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“W-What? Me?” you stammered, pointing to yourself as if there had been some mistake.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like your help,” Mingi repeated, his voice steadier now, as if the decision had already been made in his mind. There was something almost… gentle in the way he looked at you.

You stared at him in disbelief. Mingi, the man who never wanted anything to do with you, was asking for your help? 

“Mingi, are you sure?”

Mrs. Song was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “But you always—” She hesitated, searching for the right words. 

“You’ve never liked being…helped. You always insist on doing things yourself.”

Mingi exhaled, leaning back against the pillows, his fingers twitching slightly against the blanket. “I know,” he admitted. His voice was quiet, almost contemplative. 

“But things are different now.”

And for some reason, the way he said it made it feel like he wasn’t just talking about his injury.

You pulled up to the entrance, cutting the engine before stepping out to grab Mingi’s crutches from the backseat. By now, the visits were becoming routine, but each time, it still struck you as surreal.

You turned to him, holding out the crutches. “Do you need anything else? I can grab a wheelchair if you want.”

Mingi shook his head. “No thanks, I’ve got it.”

Then, to your complete and utter bewilderment, he smiled—small, unguarded, but warm in a way you’d never quite seen before. The sight of it sent a strange flutter through your chest, something unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome.

Before you could process it, his hand brushed against your arm, a brief touch that sent a gentle warmth trailing in its wake. His fingers lingered just long enough to make you wonder if it was intentional before he gave your arm a light squeeze—as if he were telling you he’d see you soon.

It was fleeting, gone too soon, but the feeling remained, leaving you gripping the car door handle as if it were the only thing keeping you steady.

Mingi had never smiled at you before. 

The whole drive home, you were lost in thought, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Confused didn’t even begin to cover it. Lately, everything about Mingi had been confusing.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then it became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you now—like he was seeing you for the first time, rather than through you. It was how he acted. How he hovered. 

He followed you around the penthouse like a puppy. If you turned around too quickly, he was there, standing just a few feet away. If you rounded a corner, you nearly crashed into him. It was like he was always waiting for something. 

Waiting for you.

You could almost see it—the imaginary puppy ears perking up, the wagging tail swishing behind him, hoping you’d notice that he was there. 

And as if that weren’t strange enough, he’d also become…talkative. Well, in his own way. Mingi had started initiating conversations with you through animal facts, seemingly random tidbits of knowledge he’d been holding in until they just slipped out. 

“Did you know that vampire bats share their food with other vampire bats?”

“What?” You blinked at him, holding your fork mid bite. 

“They, um…they regurgitate blood for bats that didn’t eat.” His voice was quiet and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if this was something you’d want to hear but hoped you might find it interesting.

You blinked at him, trying to decide if this was some kind of weird joke. But there was no teasing in his expression—just an earnest kind of hopefulness, like he wanted you to acknowledge his effort.

Like he wanted you to know he was trying.

“Oh…” You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Are you telling me I don’t eat enough?”

Mingi’s ears tinged pink as he gave a small, sheepish nod. 

“Kind of…” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. 

“I noticed that sometimes you skip meals when you’re busy or stressed.” His voice dropped slightly, almost as if he was embarrassed to say it aloud. 

“It’s not good for you.”

Another instance, you were humming to yourself as you sorted through the laundry, tossing a few shirts into the washing machine. The penthouse was quiet, save for the whir of the dryer running in the background. You reached for the basket when—

“Did you know that wombats poop in cubes?”

You yelped, throwing your laundry into the air as you spun around. Mingi stood just a few feet away, wide-eyed, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him like he wasn’t sure whether to help or apologize.

“Mingi!” you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, shifting on his feet. “The sugar cubes you put in your tea reminded me of wombat poop for some reason.”

You shook your head as you stepped into the lift back to the penthouse. You weren’t sure how you felt about your husband’s newfound attitude. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful—Mingi had finally woken up, and that should have been enough. 

The moment you kicked off your shoes in the foyer, Mrs. Ha, the chef, scurried over, her eyes darting between you and the hallway like she was still in the habit of speaking cautiously.  

“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” she whispered urgently, clutching her apron. “How was he?”

You let out a sharp exhale, still trying to make sense of it yourself. “Weird,” you hissed, picking up your pace to match hers as you both hurried toward the kitchen.

“He smiled at me. And—” You hesitated for a second before lowering your voice. “He squeezed my arm.”

Mrs. Ha gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint. “No.” She shook her head as if refusing to believe it.

“I know,” you muttered, half-joking, but not really. “He used to pretend I didn't exist. Now he’s…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

Warm? Inviting? Considerate?

It felt strange to say out loud, but stranger still that it might actually be true.

Mrs. Ha grabbed your wrist as if trying to steady herself, or maybe you. “Ms. Y/N,” she said gravely, “do you think he hit his head too hard?”

You swallowed, the thought lingering in your mind longer than it should. Mingi’s accident had been severe. He’d been unconscious for months and it was a miracle he woke up at all. 

And yet, this wasn’t just waking up. This was different. The Mingi you knew had been cold, distant, cruel even. He never touched you unless absolutely necessary, never smiled at you unless it was laced with sarcasm or condescension. But today?

Today, he’d looked at you like he actually saw you.

Could head trauma really alter someone’s personality that drastically? Had the accident shaken something loose inside him?

“Can you believe he asked me about plants?” Yohan scoffed, handing you a cup of tea as you stepped into the kitchen.

“Mingi and plants.” He shook his head in disbelief, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe he’s actually considering keeping something alive besides himself.”

You snorted, though the humor was short-lived. The shift in Mingi’s behavior was too drastic, too unnatural. You took a sip of your tea, the warmth doing little to ease the uncertainty. This new Mingi was too good to be true, and you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mingi’s kindness, his warmth—it didn’t make sense. Not when he had spent so long resenting you.

“This morning, he casually mentioned that zebras can’t sleep alone,” you murmured, tapping your fingers against the cup. 

“Well he said he’s looking forward to dinner!” Mrs. Ha interjected. 

“Three months ago, he barely spoke to anyone, including Y/N and now he’s making conversation?” Yohan shook his head, placing a hand on his hip. 

“This is suspicious.”

No one wanted to say it out loud, but you all felt the same way. Mingi’s recovery wasn’t just physical. He was changing, bit by bit. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t for the worse.

⋆

“Your grip strength is starting to improve, as well as the mobility on your left side. Soon, you won’t need the crutches anymore,” Dr. Lim noted encouragingly.

Mingi exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself. The session had been brutal, as they always were, but hearing that he was making progress gave him a small sense of victory.

“That’s it for today. We’ll see you next week.” The physical therapist gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already moving on to his next patient.

Mingi nodded, gripping his crutches tightly as he made his way toward the exit. Every movement still felt like an uphill battle. He had spent the last two months relearning how to move, how to function without feeling like his own body was working against him. The physical therapy sessions were grueling, pushing him to his limits, but he refused to back down.

The accident had nearly killed him. Three broken ribs, a fractured femur, and nerve damage. Though it wasn’t extensive, it was enough to remind him that no matter how much he pushed, there were still limits. 

And he hated that.

He hated the way his body trembled when he overexerted himself, the way his right arm sometimes felt too weak to grip things properly. He hated that he still struggled to get up without support, that simple tasks took twice the effort they used to. 

But he didn’t hate the way you anticipated his struggles before he could voice them. The way you reached for his arm before he could stumble, or placed things in a way that made it easier for him to access. And he didn’t hate how easily you entertained his ramblings, even when they were about the most mundane things.

For an hour and a half each week, he hated being away from you.

Because no matter how frustrating the setbacks were, no matter how exhausting the battle of recovery became, seeing you at the end of each session reminded him of his purpose and his promise to Hongjoong and Wooyoung. 

The thought of going home had him biting back a grin as he adjusted his crutches and made his way out of the rehabilitation center. He was already looking forward to sliding into the passenger seat beside you, exaggerating the difficulty of his new balance exercises and guessing what Mrs. Ha had whipped up today.

The anticipation carried him forward until it came to a screeching halt.

The moment he stepped into the rotunda, his fingers instinctively tightened around the crutches, his body going rigid. The hospital lobby was a blur of white coats and murmured conversations, but all he could focus on was the figure standing in front of him.

Ahri.

Her arms were crossed, her manicured nails tapping impatiently against her sleeve. She looked annoyed with her lips pressed into a thin line as her sharp gaze raked over him. 

The sight of her made something curdle in his stomach—something sharp, bitter, and unwelcome.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked flatly.

Ahri scoffed, stepping closer. “Are you seriously asking me that? You’ve been avoiding me ever since you woke up.”

“Maybe that should tell you something,” he muttered, but he already knew Ahri wouldn’t take the hint.

Ahri rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mingi. Don’t act like this. We need to talk.”

“No,” he said simply, his grip tightening around the crutches until his knuckles turned white. 

“We really don’t.”

“You’re being dramatic. I was worried about you—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his voice low, firm. 

Ahri’s mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, she looked uncertain, like she hadn’t expected him to be this direct. Her expression faltered for a split second, But then, just as quickly, she recovered, her lips curling into a sneer.

“So that’s how it is?” she scoffed. “You wake up and suddenly forget about us? Is it because you want to play house with her?”

Mingi’s jaw tensed but his silence spoke volumes.

“What’s wrong with that?” he replied quietly. 

That made her pause. Just for a second. But then she shook her head, scoffing again like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “You spent so long telling me how miserable you were, how you were trapped with her.” She let out a bitter laugh. 

“But now what? You wake up from a coma and suddenly, she’s the one you want? You told me you wished you’d never married her, that you never loved her.” 

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to something softer, something almost pleading as if she could still reach him. 

“Mingi, you told me I was the only thing that made you happy.”

And maybe, once, he had believed that.

Maybe, once, he had convinced himself that Ahri was the answer, the escape he craved, the proof that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something. But standing here now, after dying and coming back, after losing everything and being given a second chance, he saw it for what it truly was.

A mistake. A desperate attempt to outrun his own self-destruction.

But you—you had always been real. And this time, he wasn’t going to run.

This time, he was going to love you the way he should have all along.

“You weren’t,” he said steadily. “You never were.”

Ahri’s face twisted, something wounded flickering across her features before it morphed into anger. 

“Bullshit! If that were true, then why did you keep coming back to me?”

"You were there when it was easy, Ahri. When it was fun. But when I was lying in that hospital bed, barely clinging to life, you were nowhere to be found."

Ahri’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“And you know what? I don’t blame you,” Mingi said, tilting his head. 

“Because we were never real, were we? We were just two selfish people feeding off each other’s worst impulses.” He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of it all was finally lifting off his chest. 

“I don’t owe you anything.”

People turned, pausing in their tracks, stealing glances at the commotion, but Mingi could care less. Instead, he stepped past her without another glance, heading toward the one person who mattered—

You.

"You think you can just walk away from me?" Ahri's voice rose, sharp and unhinged. 

Mingi didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all. 

And that set her off. 

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

Her lips curled, a smirk. "You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you?" She let out a breathless, almost manic laugh, her eyes glinting with something unhinged. 

"Especially when you fucked me on your wedding night!"

A murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. Gasps. A sharp intake of breath. Someone muttering under their breath. But Ahri was past caring. Her hands trembled at her sides, whether from rage or something deeper, something uglier, even she wasn’t sure.

“You threw her away like she was nothing. And now, you think you can just have her?”

Ahri let out a broken laugh, something desperate and wild. 

"She’s stronger than you ever gave her credit for." Ahri’s voice turned quiet, almost pitying.

“She doesn’t need you."

Mingi’s breath hitched, and for the first time since this entire confrontation began, doubt slithered in, coiling tight around his chest.

Because what if Ahri was right?

What if you never forgave him? What if everything he had done, all the cruel words, all the neglect, had built a wall so high between you that he’d never be able to climb over it?

He remembered the way you had looked at him when he was just a clumsy, oversized puppy, tail wagging, tongue lolling, no words to defend himself—only his actions. And still, still, you had cared for him. Fed him. Sheltered him. Loved him, even when you hadn’t known it was him.

Mingi clenched his jaw. He could fix this.

Because if he had been capable of love then, stripped of his pride and his excuses, then he was capable of love now. And he would prove it to you. No matter what it took.

He would not lose you.

"Ms. Jeong," a voice said smoothly, "I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself any further."

Mingi tensed. He didn’t need to turn to know what he’d see—that infuriatingly calm expression, always so composed, so sure with his stupid face and stupid hair.

Seonghwa.

The hospital director's voice was calm, but the authority behind it was unmistakable. He stepped into Ahri’s path, yet the weight of his presence alone was enough to send a chill through the air.

Ahri whirled on him. "Stay out of this, Park Seonghwa!" she snapped. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "You’re causing a disturbance in my hospital. That makes it my problem."

Her chest rose and fell with sharp, angry breaths, but Seonghwa remained unfazed.

"You’re humiliating yourself. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security escort you out."

Ahri’s lips parted, her eyes darting between Seonghwa and Mingi, as if searching for an opening—one last attempt to regain control of the situation. But Mingi had already turned his back, walking toward the exit. Toward you.

And you—you had just barely managed to keep your knees from buckling.

You had been standing just around the corner, heart in your throat, ears ringing with every word that had left Mingi’s mouth.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You didn’t have an answer for that. Not yet.

But Mingi, your husband, the same man who once treated your marriage like a prison sentence—was choosing you.

Your phone chimed, interrupting your conversation with Yohan and Mrs. Ha.

Pick up Mingi.

“Has it already been an hour and a half?” Yohan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Mrs. Ha chuckled as she wiped her hands on her apron, already turning back to the half-prepped vegetables on the counter. 

“Time flies when you’re talking shit, I guess,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone.

Conversations like these had once been a source of relief, a safe space where you, Yohan, and Mrs. Ha could freely air out your frustrations about Mingi and his insufferable attitude. It had been cathartic, a necessary way to bond over shared grievances, particularly in the way he ignored Yohan’s presence, dismissed Mrs. Ha’s kindness, and, worst of all, the way he had treated you.

The usual satisfaction of venting was absent, replaced instead by something heavier. 

Guilt.

You weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered now, softer, searching, as if trying to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Like he was looking for something—hoping for something.

Or maybe it was the way he hesitated before speaking, as if he wanted to be understood but didn’t know how. As if he was afraid that one wrong step would send him tumbling right back into the version of himself you had every reason to despise.

And that’s what made your chest ache.

You sighed, grabbing your keys from the counter and with a quick farewell to Yohan and Mrs. Ha, you made your way down to the garage. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the high rises casting fleeting shadows as you navigated the city streets.

Your mind wandered. Mingi was still a mess of contradictions—still the person who had hurt you more than anyone else ever had. And yet, in the past two months, something had shifted. He’d been different.

You weren’t sure what that meant for you, if it meant anything at all.

Pulling into the hospital lot, you glanced at the time. You were early. With minutes to spare, you found yourself hesitating, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You could just wait here, let Mingi find his way out like always. 

But today, something in you wavered.

Maybe, just this once, you’d meet him halfway.

Sighing, you turned off the engine and walked into the hospital. The automatic doors parted soundlessly as you entered, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of coffee from the café wrapping around you. 

You weaved through the familiar hallways toward the rehabilitation center, past patients in wheelchairs and staff exchanging clipped instructions.

And then—

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

You stopped.

Ahri.

Her voice carried through the clinic, too loud, too reckless for a public space, but she didn’t seem to care.

A few steps ahead, just past a row of columns, Mingi stood—partially obscured, his broad shoulders stiff with tension. Ahri stood in front of him, heaving with anger, her expression twisted into something between fury and despair.

Your instincts told you to walk away before you were pulled into something you weren’t meant to witness. But your feet wouldn’t move. Instead, you ducked behind the corner, pressing yourself against the wall, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You sucked in a breath. That stopped Mingi and Ahri knew it. You peeked out just enough to catch the smirk curling at the edges of her lips and the cruel glint in her eyes.

"You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you? You fucked me on your wedding night!"

The words slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. You had known what you were getting into when your parents arranged your marriage to Mingi. You had no illusions about love or loyalty, not when his heart had already belonged to someone else. You had told yourself his affair with Ahri didn’t matter, that you weren’t some naive child clinging to false hope.

But hearing the words now, so bluntly and irrevocably, felt different. It was like an old wound you thought had scarred over, threatening to tear open all over again.

A murmur of voices rippled through the onlookers—gasps, hushed whispers, stolen glances exchanged in uneasy silence. Mingi remained frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, his fists curling and uncurling around his crutches.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves, nails pressing crescent marks into your skin. The way Mingi stood there, facing Ahri’s wrath without backing down, without crumbling the way you might have expected, made your chest tighten.

For the first time in your marriage, Mingi was choosing you.

The realization sent a flutter through you, foreign and unwelcome and you had to keep your knees from buckling beneath you. 

This wasn’t forgiveness.

But it was something.

Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and hurried back to your car. By the time you reached the door, your hands fumbled slightly, a little shaky as you slid inside and shut yourself away from the world.  

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the strange, fluttery feeling in your chest to go away. But it lingered, stubborn and insistent, curling around the edges of your thoughts. Ahri’s words still echoed in your mind, but even louder—more impossible to ignore—was the quiet whisper of, What if?

What if Mingi really was choosing you?

Not out of obligation. Not because there was no one else left. But because he wanted to.

A breathy laugh escaped you, more out of disbelief than amusement. 

“What do you think, Maro?”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, but it felt natural, like Maro was still here, curled up beside you, tail wagging, waiting for you to spill your heart out. 

You swallowed, gripping the steering wheel as if it could ground you. 

“It’s stupid, right?” Your voice was tentative as you leaned your head against the headrest. 

“It doesn’t change anything. Just because he—” You stopped, shook your head, trying to chase away the warmth threatening to creep in.

“It doesn’t mean I should believe in something that’s never been real.”

You could imagine Maro pressing his head into your palm like he understood everything you couldn’t say. Like he was telling you that you didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

“God, I don’t even know what's happening anymore.”

A sudden, sharp knock against the window jolted you upright. Your heart lurched into your throat as you turned, only to find Mingi standing just outside, giving you a small wave. Your face burned. Huffing, you fumbled for the lock with clumsy fingers before scrambling out of the car. 

“I got it,” Mingi said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on his crutches. His voice was light, but his gaze lingered on you, studying you with an expression softer than you were used to.

“You okay?”

You forced a small smile, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves in an attempt to steady yourself. “Yeah, just tired.”

Mingi didn’t look convinced. He lingered for a second longer, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to press further. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, nodded, and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive home passed in a blur. The streetlights stretched long across the pavement, casting soft, flickering patterns against the windshield, but you were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts brewing in your mind.

Did he really love you?

⋆

"Y/N…can you call my phone? I can’t seem to find it."

Mingi had been more flustered than usual lately—not that he wanted to admit. The accident had left him disoriented, but it was unlike him to be clumsy. But lately, he kept doing things that frustrated him to no end like pushing against a pull door and standing there and now, misplacing his phone for the third time this week. 

He was also never one to ask for help—especially from you.

Before the accident, he had gone out of his way to keep his distance. He had made it clear he wanted nothing from you, and you had gotten the message. Eventually, you stopped offering. And for a while, that’s what he thought he wanted.

Now, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.

If you were in the kitchen, he was suddenly rummaging through the cabinets for a snack he didn’t actually want. If you were on the couch, he was sitting on the opposite end, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention to it. 

And if you got up to leave the room? Well…so did he.

Because he wasn’t afraid of being clingy. Not with you. Not when the thought of you leaving, of not having you here, was far scarier than anything else.

You nodded, pressing the call button as Mingi shuffled past you, disappearing into his room. Your gaze lingered on the doorway long after he was gone.

For the duration of your marriage, you had never once stepped foot inside this room. The door had always remained shut, a silent boundary he had drawn long before he ever knew you. A reminder that no matter what legal document bound you together, there would always be parts of him you would never reach.

But as you took a step forward, following the faint sound of his phone vibrating somewhere in the great beyond, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let you glimpse into the parts of himself he had kept locked away.  

You stood hesitantly by the threshold watching your husband rifling through his laundry, digging through pockets, and muttering to himself under his breath. The Mingi you had married would’ve cursed under his breath, thrown something, or blamed someone else for his misplaced phone. 

But this version of him? He simply kept looking, patient and persistent.

His room was dimly lit with the faint scent of paint and cologne filling the space. Canvases leaned against the walls, some vibrant and abstract, others more detailed and unfinished sketches scattered across his desk.  

Your gaze landed on a small canvas resting on the edge of his desk. The soft eyes and the cheeky glint, the little nose, and that signature smile. It wasn’t finished, but there was no mistaking it.

Maro.

“There it is,” Mingi muttered, plucking his phone from the ground next to his bed.

As he swiped the screen to end the call, his gaze flickered toward you, then followed yours to the canvas on his desk. He watched you carefully, half-expecting sadness, maybe even confusion. But instead there was something unexpectedly tender. 

And then you looked at him, and Mingi felt it.

Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he had done something right for once. Like you saw him in a way that made his heart squeeze. His ears burned. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I… picked up painting,” he admitted. “My physical therapist said it’d help with motor skills and strengthening my hands and fingers.” 

He swallowed. “I hope you don’t mind that I painted Maro. I… I wasn’t sure if I got the eyes right,” he admitted, almost shyly. 

You stepped closer, drawn in by the familiar shape on the canvas. “It looks just like him,” you murmured, reaching out to trace the dried brushstrokes with your fingertips. The texture of the paint, the careful detail—Mingi had poured himself into this.

Mingi let out a sigh of relief but then, as if realizing something, tensed again a second later. “I—uh, it was supposed to be a surprise,” he blurted out, his eyes widening slightly, as if he’d just realized his mistake.

You blinked up at him. “A surprise?”

“For you,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. 

“I wanted to give it to you when I felt like it was perfect. But, um… I guess I kind of ruined that, huh?” He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“You painted this for me?”

He peeked at you through his lashes, leaving something softer and more vulnerable in its place as he gave you a small nod.

“I just… I know how much you loved—love Maro, and I thought maybe… you’d want something to keep. Something I made for you.”

Something only for you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oh. Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice and the way he’d poured so much of himself into a piece just for you was overwhelming. 

“Oh, Mingi…” you breathed.

Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and impossible to name. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stare at him—the quiet hope in his eyes, the way he watched you like he wasn’t sure what you’d do next.

“I love it,” you said, and you meant it. Not just the painting, but the thought behind it. It was just a painting. But it wasn’t. It was a piece of him—his effort, his sincerity, his quiet way of saying what he couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you.”

The words felt small, insufficient for the weight of what he had given you. But then he smiled—a slow, relieved, utterly radiant smile that knocked the breath from your lungs.

And suddenly, the moment stretched—too long, too precarious.

Your eyes flickered around the room, a sharp awareness settling over you. Mingi’s room. When did he get so close? When did you even come in here?

“I should…” You cleared your throat, glancing toward the door. “I should let you get back to painting.”

Before he could say anything, you turned, slipping out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. For a moment, you leaned against it, trying to steady the sudden pounding in your chest. But before you could make sense of anything—

The door creaked open.

“Wait.”

You turned, as Mingi poked his head out. There was a hint of bashfulness in the way his fingers gripped the doorframe, but his eyes held no hesitation.

“…You can leave it open.”

<< vii | ix >>

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[itsrensfairygardenn]

dilf!art x tired!reader for everyone who needs it </3

2,2k words

you’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and your friends say that it’s stupid that the two of you still haven’t moved in together — after all, it’s not weird at all. he seems to like you so much, and you like him too, love him even, because he is the best thing you could ever have, you know that for sure. you live in the most inconvenient part of the town, renting a tiny flat, which is not even that close to your university, and even further away from art’s place — he lives out of town, completely alone in his enormous house, except for days when lily stays with him. he never presses you into staying with him, moving your stuff to his place, or even lingering there for longer than you’re comfortable with, but his eyes always speak for himself — he wants you to stay there with him. he wants his home to become yours too.

life for you is routine, because you’ve built it this way; and while it obeys your rules, working like a finely-tuned machine, you can handle it just fine — i mean, there was nothing impossible, right? the schedule is tough, but you’ve already got used to it, still managing to submit your assignments just in time and getting excellent results, even though your part-time job is taking much more of your time and energy than you thought it would — but it feels nice to be appreciated by your professors, to stay one of the best students, even though it feels like you’re on the verge of losing it because of your job. you don’t have much time for living your quiet and slow life anymore, and it was difficult for you, to the point of a permanent exhaustion, of aching pain all over your body even after a proper rest. but life is never easy, is that what people always say to you? you should adjust to this rhythm, because you think that that’s how adult life works.

and you can handle it just fine, till the moment when this algorithm just stops working.

this day, everything went completely wrong since the very beginning — you overslept, simply because you’d forgotten to set your alarm the night before, and the whole process of getting ready and running to the campus brought you immense anxiety; by the time you got to the classroom, you felt a thick lump of nausea in your throat. you were answering questions on autopilot, thoughtlessly writing down words that couldn’t even form adequate sentences, and you could swear that by the end of this class you were on the verge of crying or losing your consciousness, because you felt so stupid and helpless, not being able to try your hardest, to focus and get a grip. you hadn’t had enough time to have a proper breakfast, you had forgotten half of your notes at home… god, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to answer art’s messages — as always, he sent you ‘good morning’, wishing you a nice day, reminding you about your plans for the evening. why was it so hard for you to just answer?

then someone accidentally pushed you with their shoulder in the cafeteria, and you stained your skirt with sprinkles of coffee that fell from your hands right to the floor… you were sure that you heard someone laughing behind your back, while you were frantically pushing through the crowd to make it to the bathroom. first of all, you were frustrated, terribly embarrassed and mad; second of all, you missed art so badly, that you teared up in the bathroom stall, because you still hadn’t answered his messages, and you knew that he would worry about this silence. he always worries, you know it, but he always pretends that he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to seem overprotective or overly sensitive; right now a concerned expression of his loving eyes is the last thing you want to witness.

now, when your classes are over, and art’s car is finally waiting for you in the parking lot, you want to cry again — because he’s looking at you through the window, giving you the sweetest smile, with his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the leather surface of the steering wheel, because this very hand is waiting for its chance to settle on your thigh, or caress your cheek. art has missed you so much, you know for sure; he’s so excited about having dinner with you tonight, because both of you’ve been so busy recently, that you didn’t have a chance to spend some quality time together. and here you are, without any makeup on, with these ugly coffee stains on your skirt, and the same anxiety and suppressed emotions bubbling underneath every inch of your skin, that were making you sweat through the day. what if you smell bad? what if you snap at art, just because you feel like falling apart in front of him?

“how was your day?” art asks in this soft, soothing tone of his. as you’ve expected, his hand settles on your knee, gently rubbing your skin; you’re afraid that he’ll say something about this damn skirt, but he doesn’t even look down at it.

art smells like his usual cologne — such a faint note of it, because he’s already washed it off in the shower after training his tennis players under the scorching heat of the sun on the tennis court; you want to bury yourself in his chest and inhale the familiar scent of his skin, to nestle your nose in his neck and make him giggle, the way he always does when you’re together — so boyish and sweet, despite the age. god, he doesn’t seem much older than you at all.

but you can’t even speak, biting your lower lip, with that gloomy crease between your eyebrows. art notices almost immediately, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see his smile fading. is he no longer happy with you? what if you’ll upset him with your attitude, ignoring him just because you feel terrible? he just asks you about your day, and the next moment tears starts falling from the corners of your eyes; you can feel it prickling in your nose, and suddenly the morning nausea is back again.

art’s heart sinks into his chest, stopping its steady rhythm and falling down to his stomach, slowly dying from the sight of your reddened nose and cheeks, the faint traces of tears on your beautiful face — god, he only wishes to never see you upset again, to make you the happiest person in the world. he’s noticed everything about your busy schedule, your exhaustion and those dark circles under your tired eyes — this life is slowly pushing you to the limit, and you don’t even want him to help you. because you think that it’s completely fine, that you can handle everything that you’ve weighed down on yourself.

you think that he’ll be upset with you? the truth is, art will never leave you alone with your pain, and much less judge you for it — if anything, art will make your pain his own, too. he’s ready to absorb it, erasing the line between your difficulties and his own, because as far as he’s ready to share his bed with you, he will always share your worries, your anxiety, your bad days and overwhelming feelings.

“bunny, come here,” he whispers into your hair, already pulling you into his arms, shielding your trembling figure from the world, from all these people passing by his car — he kisses your soft hair, your rosy cheeks and lowered eyelids, wiping your tears away with his warm lips. his thumb catches a hot salty drop right in the corner of your eye, brushing it away before it rolls down your reddened skin. “that’s okay, don’t worry… no, don’t apologize, sweetheart. we’ll figure it out, i promise”

he’s rubbing your back with his firm, calloused hand, grounding you, silently promising you safety and comfort you desperately need, the same quietness and slow pace of life you miss so badly. he whispers that he’ll take you home now, that the restaurant can wait, that you can order takeout later. at this moment, you know that his home is your home, and nothing else matters anymore.

once you get there, he runs you a hot bath and ends up kneeling on the tiled floor, running his fingers through your shampooed hair and massaging your scalp with his fingertips — you’ve already calmed down enough to speak to him and tell about your day, detailing every single thing that has happened to you. he mutters his little “you did nothing wrong, sweetheart”, “they’re just a bunch of stupid kids” and “you’re still my genius” in your ear, occasionally smiling at your choice of words; to be honest, you can make him smile without even trying, and when you joke? he’s giggling, of course he is.

afterwards, you put his old shirt from one of those tennis events and his boxers on. he leads you to the large couch in the middle of his light, spacious living room, and you both settle in the mess of pillows and a blanket that he’s brought from the bedroom; you rest your head on his chest, while he’s looking at his phone screen, quietly listing what you can order for dinner — as always, he’s the one who does it, because he knows how difficult it’s for you to decide what kind of food you would like to eat.

“you aren’t listening, are you?” he notices with a slight grin, and his voice requires this attractive hint of hoarseness. he traces wet hair on the top of your head with his lips, lazily drawing invisible patterns, finalising them with a firm kiss — more like an attempt to immerse himself into the scent of your (his) shampoo.

you’re half-listening, with your eyes blissfully closed, but you’re smiling at his question — it seems like food is the least important part of being next to him right now; you put your hands under his shirt, drawing small circles on his toned stomach with your fingertips, and you know that it was calming both of you down.

“i love you, art” you whisper against his chest, sending these words right to his heart — literally and metaphorically.

“i love you too, bunny” he adjusts his position to kiss your cheek — gently and lovingly; it always feels even more intimate than making love, because at these moments he touches your cheeks like priceless gemstones, or the finest silk.

“you know that i can do anything for you, right?” his tone changes, but it’s barely noticeable, because he’s still so soft with you, treading carefully to not scare you away from him. “i know how much you value your studies. just focus on it, and i’ll help you with the rest”

you shift in his arms, only to look up at him, resting your chin on his broad chest — you seem uncertain, as always. art’s already got used to it, because you’ve never liked talking about money — his money, particularly.

“i don’t know, art. it’s embarrassing,” you admit, lowering your voice to a whisper, and you feel his hand on the back of your neck, gently massaging your tight muscles — never able to keep his hands off you. “i don’t have enough money, and i can’t give anything in return. don’t mention love, because it won’t be enough”

“love is always enough, y/n,” he doesn’t give you a chance to belittle yourself, to underestimate the value of your love. you both know that you saved him, that you healed him with your very presence, your shy smiles and and the way your cheeks flushed when his lips first touched yours. “i want you to be here, to do things that you love, to not worry about money”

art knows that money can’t buy happiness, but ever since he met you, he wishes to have a chance to buy this precious piece of pure joy, to have it on the palm of his hand, to give it to you without a second thought — and when he’s ready for such things, does money really matter? do you really have to worry about it, when he only dreams about you putting your clothes in his wardrobe, leaving your makeup products on the sink in the bathroom after getting ready for your morning classes, marking the edge of his favorite mug with your lipstick?

you’re so quiet that it almost feels eerie, as if you’re not with him anymore — but then you finally break this foreign silence.

“we can try,” you whisper, and you both smile at the same time — his boyish grin, again. ”i'll call the landlady tomorrow”

trust me, just by looking at his face, it’s obvious that at this very moment he already starts thinking about rearranging his entire house to make it the perfect place for you — dressing table, secluded corner for your bookshelves, maybe even entire room just for you… well, give him some time to think about it, and he’ll make you the happiest person in the world.

thank you for supporting this idea! i hope that the result isn’t too disappointing :( just needed some emotional support from dilf art calling me a bunny, please don’t judge me for trying 🐇

[qwertysquirti]

Sick Day

꩜synopsis: Rafayel is sick. You’ve decided to sacrifice whatever you had going on that day (which wasn’t anything, really) to come and tend to him.

꩜content: less than 1k, female!reader but the word "girlfriend" is only mentioned once so if you ignore that it's gender neutral ;), fluff, ur lwky a bad caretaker, rafayel is annoying

꩜an: i'm sick and his birthday is coming up so why not combine the two. also idk if lemurians actually get sick but let's pretend they do.

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You press the back of your hand to Rafayel’s forehead. “Jeez, you definitely have a fever.” You extract your hand and he sniffles.

 “I know you like walking out onto the beach at night but it gets cold out…” You scold, lightly. 

“Hmph. I already know that. I’d just done it so many times I thought I couldn’t get sick. I don’t even remember the last time I’ve been sick!” He begins to sit up but immediately lies back down again. 

“Right. Lemurians aren’t totally immune to colds, you know?” You giggle. He childishly juts his lip out and rolls over to lie on his side. What a baby. You exit his bedroom to see if he has any sort of medicine in his kitchen, at least make him some soup or something. You hear a ping from your phone before you can get too far, though. 

Rafayel: where’d you go? come back

You: To find you some medicine… Also, are you hungry?

Rafayel: wouldnt you like to know

Ugh.

You: Yeah, I kinda would. 😒

Rafayel: i guesss i could go for something to eat. hurry back tho

That was unnecessarily difficult. You peruse Rafayel’s kitchen in search of medicine and soup. You find a bottle of cough syrup that hopefully isn’t expired and a can of chicken noodle soup in the back of his pantry. You navigate his clunky kitchen and manage to prepare the soup. You walk back to the bedroom to see that Rafayel still has that stupid pout on his face. 

“I made you some soup and got you some medicine.” You smile, unable to take him seriously. 

“You took forever! What if I had passed away from my illness already?” He rolls his eyes. 

“Sooo sorry.” You tease. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, cutie. Literally.” He leans back into his fluff pillows and lets out a meek sneeze. You walk closer to his bedside and place the soup bowl and medicine on his nightstand. You pat his head, “Hehehe, my poor boy.” You happily gaze down at him. 

“You’re so cruel, laughing at my pain.” He lets out a weak cough, probably fake. “Just feed me.” He points to his mouth. Such a drama queen. You indulge him and pick up the spoon. 

“You’re so spoiled.” You sneer as you spoon the soup into his mouth. He says…something but you can’t understand him because his mouth is full. He decides on just glaring at you instead. He finishes the soup and you pour him a bit of medicine into the cap of the bottle. You put it up to his lips and he surprisingly drinks it up without protest. “Blegh. Do you know how long that’s been in there?” His face scrunches up. 

“Uhm.” 

You look at the back of the medicine bottle, the expiration date is faded but you can make out the date ‘11/23/24’. Oh that’s not as bad as you thought. Still kinda bad but not THAT bad. 

“It’s fine.” You grin, guiltily. He squints his eyes at you.

 “I’m gonna die, aren’t I? You’re the worst bodyguard girlfriend ever.” He dramatically plops down into his pillow. You shake your head no but honestly, you don’t know the side effects of drinking month old cough medicine. He grabs your hand and puts it against his cheek. “At least the last thing i’ll see is your cute face…” He coughs and shuts his eyes, letting go of your hand.

“Calm down!!!” You panic a bit. “I’ll get you new medicine!!” You place your hand back onto his cheek. He chuckles and opens one eye. 

“Did I actually scare you?” He dawns a cheeky smirk. 

“No!” He did, just a little bit. “But seriously, I should get you more medicine.” You take your hand off of his face, but he grabs your wrist before you can walk away. 

“Can you just stay with me for a while longer? I don’t want you to leave, not even for a second.” He pulls you closer to the bed. It seems he gets even more clingy when he’s sick. He wraps his arms around your torso and buries his face into your stomach so you can’t escape. “Just stay here, yeah?” He speaks into your stomach with a muffled voice. You run your fingers through his hair, how could you say no to your sick fishie?

“Okay. But I have to get that medicine eventually, I want you to get better.” You rub your hand down his back.

“I’m already getting better with you by my side.” He places his chin onto your stomach to look up at you lovingly. You stay in that moment for a while, until he starts having a coughing fit. “Right. Yeah I have to get another medicine.” You remove his arms from off you, and speed to the door. 

“Cutie–” Cough. “Wait!” Another cough.

“I love you! I’ll be back.” You say at the door frame before sprinting off to the nearest drug store. You get a text on your way there.

Rafayel: you left meee :( youre gonna make it up to me when im feeling better

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[1800-fight-me]

Begin Again

Rick Grimes x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature- As always- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Angst, canon level violence, cursing, yearning

Word count: Almost 4k

Synopsis: You have feelings for Rick that you're convinced are unrequited and it's made you irritable with your group. But what if you were wrong?

Author’s note: This is set sometime after the jail but sometime before Alexandria, but I took liberties with the timeline as well. I hope you enjoy!

P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

“I need five minutes away from you and your incessant talkin’,” you grumbled as you sheathed your hatchet and walked away from Eugene. 

Of course it was your luck you got paired with the rambling coward in the group’s efforts to clear out the building for a safe place to sleep for the night. 

“Wait! But I-” 

“Don’t wanna hear it,” you snapped as you walked away. You’d already cleared out your designated area and the others would finish soon, you weren’t leaving Eugene in any danger. You just needed some air. 

It wasn’t his fault you were so irritable. It was your own fault for developing unrequited feelings for the leader of your group and then getting your feelings hurt every time he showed zero interest towards you.

You walked out the back of the abandoned warehouse and sat on the steps right outside the door. You took deep breaths as you looked up at the stars. 

It was ridiculous and embarrassing, you knew that. There were far more important things to worry about, to get worked up over- like surviving each day. Killing walkers and any who threatened your group- that was essential, not your stupid crush. 

And Rick, he had so many responsibilities on him- two children (one of whom is a baby), the safety and wellbeing of the entire group (which had been particularly difficult lately), and constant pressure to make life or death decisions (you had admit, he was pretty good at that). You couldn’t, and shouldn’t expect him to notice you or care about your emotions beyond the others in the group. 

But, God - you wish he would. You wish he wanted to be around you. You wished he trusted your capabilities more. But no, he never wanted you right by his side in dangerous situations. That honor was always given to Daryl, or Glen, or Michonne. People he had more trust in. 

You’d been there since the beginning- since the quarry camp and you’d come a long way in terms of fighting, just like so many others. But it seemed like all Rick saw was the scared young woman he’d first met. 

He always grouped you with others in the group he also didn’t trust as much- like Eugene or Gabriel. It was infuriating. 

You also knew that Rick was a man of few words, but you couldn't help but notice that he had even less to say to you than others he was closer with. Despite the fact that you volunteered to help take care of Judith more than anyone else in the group. 

Your feelings for Rick- of affection, of love, of lust, were turning sour and rotten inside of you and twisting into something closer to jealousy and resentment. 

Getting worked up was pointless, Rick would never look at you the way you look at him you realized as you wiped the tears from your eyes and took deep breaths. 

But maybe a few extra minutes alone wouldn't hurt. 

You leaned against the handrail on the side of the stairs and tried to think about anything but Rick. The gorgeous curls of his grey streaked hair, his beard that looked way too good even when coated in blood, his intense blue eyes, the low timbre of his voice, his protectiveness for those he cares about…

You hadn’t even realized you drifted off to sleep until the sound of growling and snarling woke you. The hatchet was in your hand immediately as you jumped up and took a defensive stance. Four walkers were close, one of which nearly grabbed you, but you side stepped it and buried your hatchet in its forehead. 

Its dead weight pitched forward, it was a man twice your size, and landed on top of you. 

“Shit!” you yelled as your head hit the concrete and your vision went momentarily fuzzy. You held tight to your hatchet and swung it with a groan as another walker launched itself and landed on top of the dead one on top of you. 

You heard a deep voice yell your name. 

“Here!” you gasped out as blood sprayed in your face as the second walker died- its dead weight crushed the air out of your lungs. Two more were reaching for you but they couldn’t quite reach you and you couldn’t quite reach them. 

You heard the disgusting sound of a blade slicing into the brains of the walkers before the bodies of the others were hauled off you. 

“Thanks.” 

You took gasping breaths as you sat up and your eyes met Rick’s blazing blue gaze. 

“Are you alright?” he asked- concern evident in his voice and in the tension of his body as he knelt beside you.

He placed his large hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him in surprise.

“Just peachy,” you replied, “not a bite or a scratch on me, I promise.” 

He hung his head in relief as he let out a deep breath and his fingers tightened slightly on your shoulder. 

“What the hell were you thinkin’ bein’ out here alone?” he hissed through gritted teeth. 

You sighed deeply. 

“I didn’t mean to doze off. You stuck me with Eugene again and I needed some alone time,” you grumbled. 

He let out a huff of what might’ve been a laugh as he placed a finger on your chin and tilted it upwards so you would meet his eyes again. 

“I thought you liked Eugene, you’re always laughin’ at him.” 

You blinked in surprise and your mouth opened slightly. 

“Like him? He’s an idiot… that’s why I laugh,” you said with your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Hm. Well I also pair you with him and Gabriel since you’re one of our best fighters and teachers and I was hopin’ they’d learn somethin’,” he hummed as he turned your face back and forth just to double check that you were unharmed. 

“Wait, what? That’s what you think of me?” you blurted out. 

He raised a brow at you and a small smile played on his lips. 

“Of course, what did ya think?” 

You shrugged and looked down as your face flushed with heat. “Thought you stuck me with ‘em cause you thought I was the same as them.” 

This time he did truly chuckle. 

“Wow. I thought you’d think better of my leadership. It wouldn’t make much sense to put the weakest links together, they’d die. Ya wanna put the strongest with the weakest so they learn to be stronger,” he explained while nodding his head. 

“Oh. Yeah. That does make more sense,” you muttered. 

He smirked at you and you swore your heart skipped a beat. 

“Promise me you won’t go sleepin’ outside on your own again and I’ll give you a break from Eugene,” Rick said fervently. 

“Deal,” you agreed all too quickly which caused a rough chuckle to slip past his lips again. 

“C’mon darlin’, let’s go back inside with the others- you can nap in there where it’s safer,” he encouraged as he stood and offered you his hand. 

Your heart fluttered at the affectionate nickname. You slid your hand into his much larger calloused hand and you had to actively stop your mind from wandering down a path of wondering how those hands would feel on the rest of your body. 

You followed him back into the warehouse and then into the big open room everyone had begun to make camp in. He placed a hand on your back as he led you to sit next to him. 

“You hungry?” he asked as he pulled granola bars out of a backpack and started to pass them out to everybody. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled and his fingers brushed against yours for far longer than necessary  as you took the snack that would count as everyone’s meal for the night from him. It was better than the group’s dinner last night of absolutely nothing. 

Today’s scavenging was more successful, thank God. Your group still needed to find a more permanent living situation, and this warehouse did not seem like the solution. But you weren’t in the habit of borrowing tomorrow’s worries. No, you were just glad you made it through another day alive and without losing anyone you cared about. 

Maggie handed Judith to Rick and he placed a kiss on her forehead before settling her on his lap. She giggled at you as you made silly faces at her. 

Your name was called in a very nervous voice and you looked over as Eugene approached you. 

“I would be remiss if-” 

“I’m sorry Eugene,” you cut him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was an ass.” 

“While I do appreciate that, I also understand that I have a tendency to over-articulate in a way that can be grating on the nerves at times. So, I do apologize for becoming a pain in your rear end lately,” he said with a nod of his head that shook his ridiculous mullet. 

You let out a soft laugh. “It’s fine, dude. We’re good,” you reassured him. 

He nodded again then went back to his spot near Abraham and Rosita. 

You looked over and realized Rick was watching you with raised brows. 

“What?” you asked. 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you be that nice before,” he said in a teasing tone and a playfulness in his light blue eyes. 

You opened your mouth to reply but he said, “To anyone but the kids at least.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” you snapped, “to everyone but you.” 

He laughed and you muttered, “Shut up” as you began to adjust your backpack so you could lay your head on it. 

You quickly turned your body away from him as you laid down so he couldn’t see the smile that adorned your lips. 

You woke the next morning after nearly a full night’s sleep, which was a miracle in the post-apocalyptic world you lived in, to a jacket with a woollen collar laid atop you. You weren’t quite as successful at hiding your smile this time. 

You yawned as you sat up and stretched and the jacket slid to your lap. It was clear you were one of the last to wake as most everyone was quietly moving around as they prepared for the day. 

“You’re up! Finally! Dad said I had to let you sleep, but Judith has been wanting you,” Carl said from across the room. 

You smiled, “I’ll take the little princess.” You reached your hands out and Carl crossed the room and placed Judith in your waiting arms. She giggled at your teasing as you spoke to her in a high voice and tickled her. 

You noticed the granola bar carefully left next to your backpack and your heart warmed before you tore into it and devoured it in a few bites. 

A few minutes later everyone seemed almost packed up and ready to go, you included. You’d gotten good at multitasking- holding and caring for Judith while taking care of other tasks (including sometimes killing walkers) had become a breeze for you. Rick came back inside the building as he holstered his gun and surveyed everyone’s progress. 

“Let’s move out in five. We’ve got a lotta ground to cover today,” he ordered and everyone either nodded or made sounds of agreement. 

He crossed the room as he came towards you and knelt down next to where you sat. He gently held Judith’s hand and the fondness in his gaze as he greeted her made your heart clench. As did the fact that he still had a soft look in his eyes when he looked up from where Judith sat in your arms and said, “Mornin’”. 

“Hey,” you replied with a small smile. “Thanks for letting me sleep in. I feel much less grumpy.” 

“Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” he said with a wink before he stood up and offered you his hand. You allowed him to help you stand and struggled to hide how flustered he made you, especially when he squeezed your hand before letting go. You handed him his jacket back, which he took and promptly put on.

“It’ll also help the overall morale of the group if you’re not snappin’ at everybody,” he teased. 

You scoffed and shoved your shoulder into his as you walked past him, but once again couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. You glared at Maggie when she wiggled her eyebrows at you which only caused her to laugh. 

The day continued on with your group once again hiking under the hot sun in an attempt to find more supplies and better shelter. The routine had become somewhat monotonous, but the constant life threatening situations made it feel a bit less so. 

Today, the group stumbled upon an abandoned superstore. Rick ordered everyone to split up in pairs to explore and scavenge. 

He asked Carl to stay outside with Judith and for Carol to protect them both. 

When he called your name, you expected as usual to be grouped with one of the less combat inclined of your traveling companions but couldn’t stop your expression of surprise as he said, “You’re with me. Alright everyone, be quick and quiet and grab anything that could be potentially useful. Let’s go.” 

The group split into their designated pairs and began to enter the store. Enough scouting had already been done that it seemed abandoned by walkers as well, but still it was always important to be cautious. 

You followed Rick as he made his way to the back of the store to explore your assigned area. Hatchets in hand, you both made your way through the aisles without speaking in order to ensure you didn’t draw any of the dead in case they were hidden out of sight. 

Finally, when everything seemed all clear Rick pulled off his backpack and you helped him to fill it with supplies. 

You quietly searched the shelves and shoved aside anything useless. You tossed a bottle of ibuprofen at Rick- which he caught and dropped in his pack before he turned to search the shelf across from you. 

Your gasp caused him to whip back around towards you with his hatchet raised. 

“Look what I found!” you said excitedly, still cautious enough to keep your voice low. 

Rick sighed deeply as he returned his hatchet to his belt and gave you an annoyed look as he glanced between your face and the unopened bag of mini chocolate donuts. They were most likely still good considering they’re chock full of preservatives. 

You didn’t even know how long it had been since you had chocolate and your mouth was already watering at the thought. 

“What?” you asked. “Y’don’t want any?”

He rolled his eyes and went back to searching for supplies. 

“Fine, suit yourself. I was willin’ to share with you, but I’m not sharin’ with anybody else,” you grumbled as you shoved the donuts into your own backpack. 

You heard him laugh softly and you smirked triumphantly. Your ability to dissuade the grumpiness and bring amusement to one another filled your heart with a light you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“We should check that back storage room in case there’s extra stuff back there that they never had the chance to put out on the floor,” you whispered after the two of you had cleared several aisles having only found a couple of necessities. 

“Good idea,” he replied and led the way. 

You followed his lead as you kept your hand on your hatchet. 

There didn’t seem to be any walkers in the back, but it was dark. You held a flashlight while Rick ripped open boxes. You looked around the dark room, searching for any kind of movement in the dark as a sinking feeling plagued you.

He looked back at you with a grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye as he held up a protein bar. 

“I think you might be a genius, this whole box is full of ‘em,” he said as he gestured to the large cardboard box before him. 

Your eyes widened in a look of horror. His brow furrowed but before he could even open his mouth to ask, you threw a knife at him. 

It flew so close to his head that his curls rustled in the wind it created before it buried itself in the forehead of the walker whose teeth were inches away from Rick’s shoulder. 

A look of shock overtook his expression as he looked between you and the walker, but you weren’t done. You yanked out your hatchet and stalked past him and took out the two walkers who were rounding the corner and heading towards the two of you. 

Rick came up behind you with his hatchet in hand as well, but all seemed to be clear. 

You took heaving breaths to calm the adrenaline that ran through your body. 

You both holstered your weapons, including yanking the knife out of the walker’s forehead and wiping it clean, and Rick's hand encircled your wrist as he pulled you to turn to face him. 

His eyes were still wide with surprise. 

“Thanks.” 

You shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” 

“No, I’m gonna. You just saved my ass,” he said fervently as he stepped closer to you. 

It was like he’d just had this realization that you always supported him, always helped him, always had his back.

“Isn’t that what we do for each other? We’ve got each other's backs. That’s why our group works,” you replied. 

He nodded but continued to look at you with such intensity that it made you take a step backwards and your back bumped into the wall behind you. 

“Do you look at Daryl like this when he saves your ass?” 

He shook his head and in a low gravelly tone said, “No.” 

He looked ready to devour you as he took another step closer. Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Rick?”

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath. 

He practically lunged forward, one hand landed on the wall next to your head and the other spanned the side of your face to the back of your neck as he tilted your head up. His body pressed against yours, effectively trapping you between his heat and the wall. 

Before you could even breathe, his lips were on yours. The brush of his beard was harsh against your skin as his lips firmly pressed against yours.

Your hands reached up to grip the curls at the base of his head, threading your fingers through the surprisingly soft hair. He took that as encouragement and deepened the kiss. 

With a groan his lips pried yours open and his tongue pillaged your mouth with an intensity that left you whimpering. The heat of him, the taste of him, the fierceness of him was overwhelming and you kissed him back with all the passion he gave you. 

It could’ve gone on for minutes, or maybe hours, you didn’t know but you never wanted it to end. You were ready to give him everything he wanted and more, but the sound of footsteps behind Rick had him yanking back from you. He whipped around, his gun already raised and cocked as he held a hand behind him to protect you and keep you safe behind his back. 

Your lips still tingled from his affection, and as you peered around his shoulder you huffed in annoyance. 

“S-sorry. I was elected to determine the whereabouts of both of you but as I have observed with my own two eyes, your safety is not currently in question. Therefore, I will take my leave, but you should know should this rendezvous continue on that the whole group is ready to move on out and is waiting on your approval and presence to do so. Yours truly will take leave now and report to the others that the waiting will continue for a little while longer,” Eugene rambled. 

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he lowered his weapon. He still didn’t move an inch so you continued to be stuck between him and the wall. It honestly wasn’t a bad place to be, you weren’t complaining. 

“Jesus, Eugene, it’s fine, just tell everyone to come help us carry these supplies,” Rick ordered. 

“Yes sir,” Eugene replied quickly and turned around and left just as quickly. 

You laughed quietly and Rick turned back around- still not giving you an inch of space- and placed both hands on the wall on either side of your head and leaned down so his face was incredibly close to yours. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmured before he kissed you again. This kiss was slow, gentle, and full of warmth. The kind of kiss that might’ve been your first kiss if you weren’t living in a time of death and desperation for survival. 

His lips lingered on yours long enough that you worried others would stumble upon the two of you again. You weren’t keen on having an audience, particularly not Eugene- you’d heard a rumor that he was into voyeurism of his friends which you certainly didn’t want to have anything to do with. 

“Then what took you so long?” you asked in a teasing voice as Rick’s lips finally separated from yours and he took a step back as he ran a hand though his grey streaked curls. 

“Well at first I thought you had a thing for Eugene, not me,” he replied. 

You rolled your eyes. “Thought you were smart,” you muttered. 

He grabbed your shirt and yanked you into his body. “Don’t be a smartass,” he reprimanded, but his lips found yours again in a brief kiss that negated all the harshness in his tone. 

“I worried, I worried about too many things. But yesterday almost losin’ you and today with you saving me… I realized all those worries were ridiculous when none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. I couldn’t even think about losing you, especially not without you knowin’ how I feel about you,” he said with such fervency. 

His confession left you breathless. 

“I- I worried too much too. Worried that you’d never feel the same way I did. Worried that if I ever told you I’d lose you,” you said, your voice so quiet it was practically a whisper. 

All of the reasons you’d both withheld yourselves seemed frivolous now as light filtered through the murky window on the other side of the room and bathed Rick in the brightness of new opportunity and fresh start. A chance for new love despite the horrors of the world. 

So you kissed him once more, this kiss but a brief touch of lips, a taste of something more that was to come, a sweetness only utter devotion could bring. 

All too soon, he stepped back far enough that as many in your group came through the swinging doors it would not appear that anything had changed between the two of you. 

To everyone else, finding the stock of food in the back of that abandoned grocery store was the only life altering thing that had occurred. But when you met Rick’s ocean blue eyes you realized you could drown in the affection you found in his gaze. 

All the former awkwardness and miscommunication between the two of you was completely forgotten as you smiled at him and he smiled back- eyes crinkling- and the whole world felt anew with possibility. 

[burnt-by-marigolds]

Astarion’s Story: A Closure

Going through the finale of Astarion’s personal quest wasn’t exactly easy for me. I got overwhelmed by a vast array of difficult emotions – the oppressive atmosphere of the lavish halls of Cazador’s palace was obvious to me from the very moment my party stepped in. Talking with Godey, Astarion’s various commentary, seeing Victoria’s body, confronting the victims – it’s one thing to know what the pale elf’s past was like, it’s another to stand face to face with the reality of it.

But that’s not what this post is going to be about. After I sorted through all of this, I decided to write down the most important thing: what brought me a sense of closure after finishing the quest. 

(For the record, this was my first playthrough and I went the spawn route.)

In the end, Astarion’s story arc proved deeply rewarding to me. Almost every sentence he says afterwards is perfectly quotable – as evidenced by how many people repost their favourite words as screenshots, gifs or captions to artwork. The dialogues, the cemetery cutscene – all are immensely powerful. And still, it was something else that drew my attention.

What brought me real closure was watching Astarion himself. The way he changed. It’s subtle, and yet immediately evident: his features are somehow smoother, his tone of voice lighter. He smiles a lot in a much more genuine way and talks so animatedly (even though he’s always been very expressive). There’s something… softer about him. I don’t want to sound cheesy, but I’ll risk it: he’s radiant. Like he had become a tiny ray of sunshine himself.

I stared at the screen and was tempted to tease: who are you and what have you done to Astarion?

The change in his demeanor made me acutely aware of just how heavy was the burden he carried through Acts I and II, and the start of Act III. Again, I knew it in theory. And again, it’s one thing to know, and another to see it with your own eyes: the contrast between Astarion at the beginning of the journey and near the end of it. The burden is no more. He’s free. And very much alive.

All of this made me briefly forget I haven’t actually finished the game yet. There’s still more to do: more quests to complete, a Netherbrain to tackle. And yet, for a moment it felt like I have finished it. But that's the power of well-written stories – sometimes saving the world comes second to making a cherished companion happy.

[toffee4you]

Honestly I'm surprised at how much actual hate I've seen towards the Dawn Armor announcement (mostly Twitter). Just because he's wearing the armor doesn't mean he has to slay/harm Malleus.

Reasoning and anticipated outcome below cut

The reasons:

Already, Silver and Dawn have shown parallels. While they both wish for the unity of fae, humans, etc., Dawn followed any order despite knowing it was wrong because he didn't want to betray Heinrick (and by extension, his family). Meanwhile, Silver was already shown to go against Malleus's order for the greater good (early book 7 in Sebek's dream, when he refused to fall asleep even after being bashed for his disobedience, and fled from Malleus to save him and everyone else). There's also things like rabbitfest where he was completely warranted to dust those delinquents, especially since everyone else initially wanted to do that too, but he immediately went for a passive approach. That's not as strong of an example because there's no lives on the line, though.

Another thing we're forgetting is that Silver and Dawn likely had vastly different environments growing up. Silver was raised by Lilia, a fae who advocated for peace between all species. He also has peers who don't harbor any particular hate towards fae because the modern world is more tolerant. Meanwhile, Dawn might have had good intentions, but from what we see, at least some of the humans he grew up with had little regard for fae (Heinrick). And, judging by lines about their greed and lack of care for the environment, it's highly probable that most others had the same lack of regard. It's a little hard to follow your beliefs when it'll seem like betraying everyone else who you want to protect, ESPECIALLY your family. This leads to what I believe is one of the key differences.

Heinrick manipulated Dawn by telling him it was for Leah's happiness and her father's health. Maleanor is not someone Dawn has personally known, making it less of a loss to slay her in order to save what's important to him (as terrible as it is, and undoubtedly, it was a hard but wrong decision imo). On the contrary, Malleus is a part of Silver's family + his liege, and that's important to him. He's doing this to save Malleus and everyone else, not just to save one side like Dawn was.

Also, Malleus is doing this with misplaced intentions to make everyone happy, and the others seem somewhat aware of this (most definitely Silver, who saw his reasoning from beginning to end). Meanwhile, humans back then probably tried to dehumanize fae (especially Maleanor) by labeling them as the evil ones. No one is actively advocating for Malleus actually be slayed, giving Silver more room to follow his own will, unlike Dawn. So, not only was he raised to follow his will, but his environment is a lot more forgiving. As a matter of fact, if the others also advocate for not harming Malleus, there's really no reason AT ALL for Silver to hurt him.

Besides, it seems like TWST has been trying to represent a theme that the world is slowly changing, and issues do get resolved after overblots. Think of fairy gala. When Dawn said the line praying for all intelligent beings to live in harmony, he was about to slay Maleanor. When Silver said the line, it was because they actually SUCCEEDED at bringing the species together. History did not repeat itself, and I think it would be counterintuitive/more difficult for book 7 to end if they tried making Silver harm Malleus.

Also, did we forget how shaken Silver was when he realized he was related to Dawn? And how he had a whole character development realizing that even though he shared genetics with Dawn, he was still different and he was loved? Then vowed to save everyone? Super counterintuitive to go back on all of that for the sake of angst.

The conclusion:

In my opinion, I think the Dawn Armor has potential to be the opposite of "traumatizing" for Lilia. Sure, at first, he'll probably get a spook seeing that armor come out, but I think he trusts Silver enough to take the right route. I think it might finally give Lilia some internal peace when he sees Silver wield the same armor to save Malleus instead of slaying him, like a good ending version of what happened years ago. I also think Dawn Knight himself would be proud of Silver for doing what he failed at, assuming he's watching over Sil from the ring. At least, that's what I'm personally hoping for.

Feel free to throw tomatoes at me like a medieval villager if I'm wrong tho 🫡

[nylqnder]

MORE THAN DISTANCE BETWEEN US TEDDY STIGA

pairing: fem!reader x teddy stiga

summary: when you fail to remember yours and teddy's post-game phone call, teddy begins to question where the two of you stand.

warnings: long distance couple, everyone kind of sucking in this, made up gf for james hagens, couple of swears

wc: 3.41k

notes: this is dedicated to my girl celly ( @crazy4smitty ) who provided crucial info for this fic and who is also teddy's biggest fan💓💓

Teddy stormed into the dorm, yanking the straps of his backpack over his shoulders before hurling it at the closet door. It hit with a loud thud, rattling the frame and causing the wooden panel to bounce open slightly. His shoes followed suit — one landing against the wall, the other skidding across the floor and stopping just shy of his roommate’s feet.

From the doorway, James watched the whole display with raised brows. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong; Teddy’s mood spoke for itself. Still, he tried anyway.

“I take it you’re not in the mood for Cassie’s sorority thing tonight?” His voice was careful, like he was testing the waters before diving in.

Teddy scoffed and turned away as he pulled off his dress shirt, throwing it into a growing pile of laundry without caring about how wrinkled it would be in the morning.. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on the privilege of getting drunk with your sorority girlfriend and her frat boy entourage.” He didn’t even bother looking at James as he said it, looking through said pile of laundry for a pair of sweatpants.

James exhaled sharply, already regretting the conversation. “You’re moody.”

“And you’re observant.” Teddy shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm as he sat on the edge of his bed.

James ignored the jab, stripping off his dress shirt and tossing it onto his desk chair before pulling on a sweater. “So what, you’re just gonna sit here and sulk all night?”

Teddy exhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall. “I’m just not in the mood to drink with a bunch of airheads.”

James froze mid-motion, eyes narrowing. “Dude, watch your fucking mouth.”

The tension in the room thickened instantly. Teddy knew he had struck a nerve, but he wasn’t in the mood to soften the blow. Cassie wasn’t an airhead — he knew that, and so did James. But her friends? That was a different story. Still, he didn’t have the energy to defend himself tonight.

“Just go,” Teddy muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m staying.”

James let out a sharp scoff, grabbing a ball cap and stuffing a change of clothes into his backpack with more force than necessary. He slung it over his shoulder before turning back to Teddy with a pointed glare.

“Just because you’re having issues with your girl doesn’t mean you need to take it out on everyone who is happy with theirs.”

Before Teddy could snap back with a sharp retort — or better yet, take a swing at him — James was already slipping out of their dorm, pulling the door shut behind him.

The silence that followed felt heavier than the tension that filled the room before.

He sluggishly turned off the harsh fluorescent lights, casting the room into darkness save for the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering through the blinds. With a heavy sigh, he sank onto his bed, slumping against the headboard. His muscles ached, but not from exertion — from frustration. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers he so desperately searched for.

College wasn’t supposed to be this difficult. The classes were demanding, sure — lectures that stretched on forever, assignments that piled up faster than he could get through them — but he could handle that. It was the hockey that weighed on him. Teddy had always been the best, the kind of player who made everything look effortless. He was used to dominating, skating circles around his opponents, racking up points like it was second nature. But now?

Now, he had 27 points in 32 games. To anyone else, that was an impressive stat line, especially for a freshman. A solid season. But to Teddy, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t feel enough.

Because every mistake felt magnified. Every shift felt like a battle he was losing. He could still hear the way the puck clanked against the boards when he failed to corral it earlier that night. The way his stick felt just a fraction of an inch too short when he reached for a pass he should’ve caught. The way his legs felt sluggish, like he was skating through quicksand while everyone else flew past him.

He was getting torn apart — by himself, by his own thoughts, by the invisible expectations that had followed him here. It didn’t matter that he was still producing. It didn’t matter that his coaches weren’t on his case, that his teammates weren’t questioning him. In his mind, he was failing.

Teddy didn’t know how long he laid there, letting his self-deprecating thoughts get the best of him, before he realized his phone had been lying on his chest, completely undisturbed by notifications since he’d been back at his dorm. He glanced over at the clock on his nightstand, seeing the time read 12:47. 

Normally, by now, his phone would have buzzed. Normally, he’d hear your voice — soft, steady, grounding.

You always called.

It had become tradition, an unspoken ritual in the months since you’d both left for college. Win or lose, you’d be there, giving him an escape from the game, from the noise in his head. Sometimes you’d talk about the play that made him proud, or the one that pissed him off. Other times, you didn’t talk about hockey at all, letting the conversation drift to anything else. It was how you stayed connected.

But tonight, the silence stretched on.

Teddy exhaled sharply, pushing himself upright. He flipped over his phone, the screen lighting up the dark room. No missed calls. No texts. Not even a dumb meme or a casual hey.

A tightness formed in his chest, something he refused to name. Maybe you fell asleep. Maybe you were in the shower. Maybe you just forgot.

But you never forgot.

The longer he stared at his screen, the more his frustration twisted into something sharper, something raw. He swiped to his messages, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

Hey, you still awake?

Would love to hear your voice.

Teddy hesitated before hitting send, staring at the words until they blurred together. A lump formed in his throat as he exhaled, pressing the message through before he could second-guess himself.

He knew you had your own life at Michigan State — classes, friends, obligations. It wasn’t fair of him to expect you to drop everything for him, but you always had before. That’s what made this hurt in a way he hadn’t expected.

The minutes ticked by. Each second that passed without a reply gnawed at him, feeding the unease he had been trying to bury. He tried to shake it off, rubbing a hand over his face before pushing himself off the bed. Maybe pacing would help, maybe grabbing a water, maybe doing something other than staring at his phone like a lovesick idiot.

But the thoughts followed him, relentless.

Long-distance had started out manageable, exciting even. The calls, the FaceTime dates, the late-night texts that carried the two of you through lonely nights — it all worked for a while. But lately, the effort it took to keep the connection strong felt like trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers.

Because calls got shorter. Responses got slower. The inside jokes that once felt like second nature now felt forced, like they were grasping at a familiarity that was slipping away.

Teddy clenched his jaw, staring at the glowing screen as if sheer willpower could summon a response. It was well past one in the morning  now, and his message still sat unread.

Maybe you had really just fallen asleep. Maybe sleep got the better of you before his game finished.

But then why did this feel different?

His thumb hovered over your name before he tapped on your contact, bringing up your location. It wasn’t something he checked often — if ever — but you’d both agreed to keep it on for emergencies, a quiet reassurance of each other’s presence, even from miles away.

But tonight, instead of your dorm or somewhere familiar, the little dot next to your name pulsed in a location he didn’t recognize.

Teddy frowned.

The name of the place meant nothing to him. It wasn’t a bar or a restaurant he could immediately identify, not a library or a campus building either. His stomach twisted as possibilities started running through his mind. He tried to ignore the irrational pang of jealousy creeping in.

Was it a party? Had someone invited you out? Were you with someone?

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to be the kind of guy who jumped to conclusions. He trusted you. But trust didn’t make the unease disappear.

Before he could stop himself, he was typing again.

Where are you?

He stared at the message, debating whether to send it. He knew how it looked — controlling, paranoid — but this wasn’t about that. He just wanted to know you were okay. He just wanted an answer.

His fingers tightened around the phone before he sighed, deleting the message. He shoved his phone onto his nightstand, face down, and forced himself to lie back.

This was ridiculous. He was exhausted. He should sleep.

But sleep didn’t come.

Instead, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling as the minutes dragged into hours, his mind caught in a loop of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. He’d never gone a night without hearing from you — not like this, not without explanation.

It wasn’t until sometime around 3 a.m. that his body finally gave in, exhaustion dragging him into a restless sleep. Even then, the unease never left him.

When Teddy woke up, sunlight was already creeping through the blinds, casting streaks of dull gold across his rumpled sheets. His mouth felt dry, his limbs heavy. He blinked blearily at the ceiling, trying to shake off the restless fog of half-slept hours — but the ache in his chest remained, gnawing and persistent.

His phone was still facedown on the nightstand. He hadn't checked it since he'd forced himself to stop spiraling the night before, but now the urge gnawed at him like an open wound. Maybe you'd texted him while he slept. Maybe there was some simple explanation waiting for him — something that would make him feel stupid for letting his mind run wild.

With a slow breath, he reached over, flipping the phone in his palm.

Nothing.

The tightness in his throat returned instantly, wrapping around his ribcage like a vice. No missed calls. No texts. The message he'd sent hours ago still sat unread — a bright blue bubble glaring back at him.

Teddy's heart sank.

It wasn't just about the missed call anymore — it was what it represented. The one thing tethering the two of you together, the one piece of your relationship that felt untouched by the miles stretching between you, had been slipping through the cracks without either of you meaning to let it.

He could feel it happening — the slow drift. It had started small, in ways that were easy to brush off at first. Shorter calls. Conversations that used to stretch for hours now wrapped up in twenty minutes. Nights where one or both of you were too tired to talk at all. You were both busy, he reminded himself. You were both trying your best.

But last night… last night had felt different.

Teddy dragged a hand down his face, his heart squeezing painfully. He hated this — hated the way the doubt curled inside him, how easily it took root. He'd never wanted to be the jealous, insecure boyfriend. That wasn't who he was. He trusted you. He trusted you with every fiber of his being.

But trust didn't always quiet the little voice in the back of his head whispering that maybe... maybe you were learning how to live without him.

Maybe you already were.

The thought made him feel sick.

He sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The dorm room felt smaller than usual, the walls closing in around him. The weight of last night's loss pressed down heavy on his chest — but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache blooming underneath it.

Teddy's fingers hovered over his phone again, his thumb tracing the edge of the screen. He could text you again — something casual, something light. Pretend he wasn't still waiting. Pretend he hadn't spent half the night staring at the location dot blinking in a place he'd never seen before.

He wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to know everything was okay.

But more than anything, he wanted to stop feeling like he was losing you.

Instead, he locked his phone and dropped it onto the mattress beside him, scrubbing his hands over his face. Teddy forced himself to go about his day as if everything was normal. He went through the motions — woke up, got dressed, made it to his classes. 

Lunch with his teammates was quieter than usual. They filled the silence with the usual banter, chirping each other about practice, about assignments they were procrastinating, about the upcoming game. But Teddy barely touched his food, pushing it around on his plate, his mind elsewhere.

His teammates noticed. Of course, they did.

They saw the exhaustion in the way he carried himself, the restlessness that lingered in his every movement. But no one said anything. They didn’t need to. They knew.

They knew about the pressure he put on himself, about the weight of expectations that never seemed to lighten. And they knew about you. About the long-distance strain, the unanswered texts, the calls that weren’t as frequent as they used to be. They knew because they’d seen the way he used to light up when his phone buzzed with your name — how now, more often than not, he just stared at it, waiting.

And maybe they didn’t say anything because they knew there was nothing they could say. Nothing that would fix it. Nothing that would make the distance feel any smaller.

His phone remained in his pocket, but he checked it constantly, his fingers twitching to unlock the screen every few minutes.

Still nothing.

By the time he reached his last lecture of the day, the frustration had settled deep in his bones. He sat through the lecture, but he wasn't really there. His notes were half-scribbled, his mind elsewhere, caught in the loops of unanswered questions. It wasn’t until the vibration of his phone in his pocket made his heart stutter that he finally snapped back to the present.

Your name lit up his screen.

His breath caught in his throat. Without a second thought, he pushed back his chair and stood, ignoring the glances from his classmates as he strode out of the lecture hall. The second he stepped into the empty hallway, he swiped to answer, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. “Are you okay?”

There was a pause before you responded, confusion lacing your voice. “Yeah… why wouldn’t I be?”

Teddy exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he paced the quiet corridor. “Y/n… Come on. You didn’t text, you didn’t call… nothing.” He paused, looping back around at the end of the hall. “I mean, we do this everytime, we call after every game. But last night? Did you forget?”

Another pause. A beat of silence that felt heavier than it should have.

“I just got caught up,” you said finally, your voice light, casual, as if it was that simple. Maybe for you, it was. But for Teddy?

For Teddy, it had been an endless spiral of overthinking, of wondering if something had changed, if he was the only one feeling this slow, creeping shift between you. His grip tightened around his phone as he tried to push down the resentment bubbling in his chest.

“Right.” He forced a breath through his nose, swallowing back everything he wanted to say. “Okay.”

“Teddy…” There was something softer in your voice now, as if you could hear the frustration he wasn’t voicing. “Are you mad?”

He should’ve said no. He should’ve let it go, should’ve convinced himself that it was nothing. But instead, his silence stretched long enough to be an answer of its own.

“I just—” He let out a heavy exhale, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t know. It just—it felt weird, okay? Not hearing from you at all.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” you said, and he could hear the sincerity in your voice. But that didn’t stop the lingering ache in his chest, the one that had been there since last night.

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning against a bulletin board. “Where were you?” The question slipped out before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure why he asked — it wasn’t like he had the right to know your every move. But the words had already left his mouth, hanging in the air between you.

You hesitated. Not long, but long enough for something sharp to twist in Teddy’s stomach.

“I was just out,” you finally answered. “Some friends wanted to check out this new place off campus.”

Teddy inhaled slowly, nodding to himself even though you couldn’t see him. “Right,” he said again, voice hollow. “Got it.”

“Teddy,” you said softly, almost pleading now. “It wasn’t anything—”

“I know.” He cut you off, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know that.”

Another silence. This one stretched longer than the rest, crackling with things neither of you knew how to say. You weren’t arguing, not really, but it didn’t feel like the two of you, either. It felt like something else. Something heavier.

Teddy sighed, tilting his head back against the wall. He didn’t want to be this guy. He didn’t want to be the boyfriend who kept tabs, who made you feel like you had to explain every little thing. But God, he hated this distance — hated the way it felt like you were slipping away inch by inch, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“I should get back to class,” he muttered finally, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh,” you said, surprised by the sudden shift. “Yeah. Okay.”

He could hear the hesitation in your voice, like you were waiting for him to say something else, to fix whatever was hanging between you. But Teddy didn’t know how to fix it. He wasn’t even sure if it could be fixed.

“I’ll call you later,” you added, but it sounded more like a question than a promise.

“Yeah,” he murmured, already lowering the phone from his ear. “Later.”

The call ended, and Teddy just stood there, staring blankly at the screen.

It should’ve made him feel better — hearing your voice, getting an answer, knowing you were okay. But all it did was leave him feeling hollow, like he’d been bracing for impact this whole time and still wasn’t ready for the crash.

With a slow exhale, he pressed his phone into his pocket and turned, walking back down the hall. His footsteps felt heavier, his thoughts louder than before.

By the time he made it back to his dorm later that night, he was glad James wasn’t there. He didn’t have the energy to deal with him, regardless of how understanding he would be if Teddy simply told him the truth. Exhaustion had settled deep in his bones, making the simple task of a conversation feel like dragging a rusting anchor through sinking sand.

He simply kept the lights turned off, sinking back into the refuge that was his bed. He willed sleep to take him once again, but the rest never came. 

Instead, his mind churned restlessly, replaying every moment that had led him here. The quiet darkness offered no comfort—only the hum of his thoughts growing louder, pressing in from all sides. He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before turning onto his side.

Eventually, exhaustion won, though it wasn’t restful. When he finally drifted off, it was to the distant echo of your voice still ringing in his ears, and the sinking feeling that, somehow, you were already slipping away. And for the first time in a long time, he let himself admit it — he was scared. Scared that the distance between them was becoming more than just miles, scared that, maybe, just maybe, he was losing you.

[maskedcrawford]

Hidden Secrets

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: Fate has a funny way of working things out.

Warnings: Angst, panic attack, fluffy fluff

A/N: To make this a little easier on myself I'm posting both chapters 6 and 7 tonight. I really hope you enjoy and I appreciate everyone who has ridden this insane rollercoaster so far. I also thank you for the love and support for my work, I put my all into it <3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6- Fate

It was a month and a half after your blow up with Jiyong and he still hadn’t gotten over it. He’d seen your calls, gotten your voicemails and he even would read your texts, letting you see that he read it, but he wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t, not when he made the promise to you that he was done. Not when he promised himself, he wouldn’t let you destroy him anymore.

Jiyong stares at the envelope he receivedfrom the mail man that morning on the counter. It had his name in your hand writing on it. He took a shot before deciding to open it.

“Ji, I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now, but this wasn’t something I could put in a text. I miss you, a lot. I know you said you’re done, and I don’t blame you. I just really really miss you. I don’t deserve it, after what I did, and I don’t blame you for shutting me out, I deserve that. But I would really like the chance to talk. I’ve had a lot of time to think, alone in my apartment, and I’ve realized some things. Please at least consider it.

Xoxo

Y/n, FKA Your Girl.”

He sighs and sets the note down, noting the small tear marks on the page. He wanted to see you, he wanted to believe you’d changed or at least that you’d want to. Not having you beside him these last 6 weeks has been crazy, the sudden transition of seeing you everyday for years to now not talking has been extremely difficult and in all honesty, he had time to think too. Time to think about his own mistakes, time to question if he really did everything he could, but he wasn’t sure of the answer.

Despite his brain screaming at him, telling him its a mistake, he picks up the phone and presses your name. It rings a few times before he hears your hesitant and soft voice pick up.

“H-hello?”

“Hey,” is all he can mutter.

“I um,” he clears his throat, “I got the letter,” he squeezes his eyes tight, unsure of whether or not this is the right choice.

“I’m open to talking,” he says lowly. Your breath hitches and he waits to hear you respond.

“You still there?” he asks when he doesn’t hear anything.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here, um what about today?” you ask still unsure. He pinches the bridge of his nose in stress.

“Yeah, I can be there in 45 minutes,” he sighs.

“Ok, I’ll leave the door open.” He hangs up the phone and gets in the shower, allowing the hot water to beat his skin, trying to clear his mind. He constantly wondered if he was making the right choice, he wasn’t sure if he could trust you. He gets himself dressed and gets into his car.

Stopped at a red light, he sends you a text saying he’s 5 minutes out. When the light turns green all Jiyong can process is that its his turn to go. Then there's a loud crash and suddenly his body is lodged between the driver side door of his car and his console.

You pace your apartment; it’s been 15 minutes since he sent that text. You didn’t want to bug him, but you were concerned too. Jiyong was nothing if not punctual. After another 5 minutes you pick up your phone. You just want to know he’s safe. He’d understand that, right?

Before you can press the call button, his name comes up on your phone.

“Ji, I was just about to call you,”

“Uh,” you hear a random man’s voice begin to speak.

“I’m sorry who is this?”

“I’m officer Park, your friend here has been in an accident, you’re the Emergency Contact in his phone so we wanted you to know he’s going to ASAN Medical Center if you would like to see him.”

“Oh, wait, what, ok,” is all you can stammer out as your heart drops into your stomach.

“Is he alive?” your voice is filled with fear.

“Barely, your friend here got lucky. An inch closer to his door he would’ve been dead on impact,” your body shakes slightly with the anxiety coursing through it.

“I’ll be at the hospital in 10 minutes. Do I go to the ER side or,” you can’t think your mind is so jumbled.

“We’ll give the front desk your name at the hospital and they’ll bring you to him.” The man is sympathetic. You mumble a thank you and speed down the hospital.

You walk in, give the front desk woman your name she doesn’t have it.

“But, the guy, officer-officer Park said he’d give it to you, please I need to see him,” you plead with her.

“I don’t even see him in the system,” she looks at you helplessly.

“What,” you breathe out and hunch over some before you pass out or start hyperventilating. Your body feels like its shaking from the inside out. Just then you hear a man giving the woman your name and you stand straight up.

“I’m y/n, where is he?” the fear and worry in your eyes can’t be hidden. He gives you as solemn look and the woman opens the doors that lead back to the ER area. You go down the halls like a rat in a maze, growing more anxious by the minute. When you finally get to his room, the officer stops you before you open the door.

“He’s not going to look like you remember. It was bad, really bad,” you search his eyes. They’re sympathetic towards your plight.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” you nod your head and purse your lips in a tight line. You take a deep breath before you gently open the door and walk in.

You gasp at what you see, his hair is sticking up, bruises and cuts to his face, he’s unconscious with a tube down his throat. Your eyes water at the sight of his body. You slowly walk over to his beside and sit down in the chair beside the bed.

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry,” you sob quietly.

“If I hadn’t asked you to talk, you never would’ve left, and you wouldn’t be here,” you grab his hand gently. It’s warm, but lifeless. You look at him with blurry vision.

“Hi, I’m his nurse for the evening. You must be his wife,” she smiles. That’s a shot to the chest.

“Actually, I’m his ex,” you utter.

“Oh,” she offers you a smile that you aren’t sure is genuine.

“Well, he’s going into surgery, we need to get him prepped.” Your eyes grow wide.

“Sur-surgery? What does he need surgery for?” your vison once again starts to get blurry.

“He’s got multiple broken bones and some internal bleeding and a punctured lung.” She lowers the railing to his bed. The tears continue to fall to the cold floor beneath you.

“Oh, aein, I’m so sorry,” you whisper as you kiss his forehead and rest yours on his for a brief moment.

“I love you, my sweet boy,” you whisper to him, “So so much,” with one last kiss to the forehead you tear yourself away.

“Please take care of him,” you say with a weak voice and she nods.

“We’ll do our very best.” You give him one last look and walk out of the room. There are nurses and doctors rushing by you and you watch as they go into the room. They wheel him out and the nurse informs you that you can stay put in the room if you’d like. You nod your head and decide to call Taeyang to let him know what’s going on.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” is his response. You go out to the lobby to wait for him and when you see him, all you can do is embrace one another.

“How is he?” Taeyang was always like a brother to you, he cups your face looking into your eyes.

“I don’t have an update yet,” you say solemnly. You both walk back his room.

“What the hell, y/n,” he mumbles.

“What?” you ask caught off guard.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong you guys had your share of issues,” he trails off.

“Yeah, and?”

“I just never thought I’d see the day you guys didn’t talk. That you weren’t apart of each other somehow someway,” your guilt pings in your chest.

“Yeah, well, here are now. So can we please focus on that until its settled,” you can’t meet his gaze. You both sit silent for a minute before he speaks up again.

“I let the guys know, they asked me to let them know when he’s out of surgery.” You nod your head.

“It’s been over an hour; you want anything to eat or drink?” you shake your head no. You couldn’t think of eating anything when your worry and guilt was eating away at you.

“I’m going to grab something, call me if there’s a change.” He leaves you alone with your thoughts. You can’t control the sobs that burst out of you when the door closes behind him. You start hyperventilating and luckily a nurse comes by the room and she notices you gasping for air. She opens the door and brings you a brown paper bag to help you breathe.

“In and out, there ya go.” She stands at a distance, giving you space to calm down. You slowly start breathing normally again, the bag helping and she offers you a small smile before stepping out.

“Wait,” you call and she turns on her heel.

“Is there any update on my boy- ex boyfriend,” your voice is hopeful but she nods her head no. Your shoulders sink and you nod. You close the door to the room and try to take your mind off the current situation.

Another few minutes later the doctor walks in.

“So, we were able to stop the bleeding, but he’s going to need help, a lot of it, he’s got some compressed nerves that are limiting the function of his hands and legs. Due to the extent of the compression it’s going to take at least 6-8 weeks to get some of his feeling back, if not a little longer. His body is in a lot of pain and its pretty broken even with our efforts. He won’t be able to do much on his own. Are you able to stay with him?” the doctor says and you raise your brows.

“I, uh, I’m not sure, I mean I will if no one else can, but I’m not sure he would want me there,” you glance at the floor.

“If he wants to live and have any quality of life again, he’ll take what he can get.” The doctor says.

“We’ll bring him down in about an hour. He’s waking up now,” you nod and thank the doctor.

Taeyang comes back in the room just as you’re about to call him and you explain what the doctor said.

“Can you stay with him?” you know it’s a long shot with his family.

“Not constantly.”

“It was worth a shot.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Can you, can you call his mom and sister?” You ask hopeful.

“Ji would kill me,” he jokes but seeing your face confused he explains, “He never wants them to worry, even when they would have a reason to,” you nod. He never really did like when people fussed over him too much.

“Listen, it might be awkward, but you’re the only one with the time on your hands,” he gently explains.

“I don’t know, Youngbae,” you sigh.

“We were supposed to talk but then this happened,” you trail off looking into the distance.

“Then that must mean he was at least willing to hear you out,” he reasons.

“Yeah, but this would require me to literally live there again.”

“So, do that. As friends and only friends,” he scolds as he wags a finger at you. You direct your gaze to the floor. You guys wait for the next hour and when the door opens and his bed rolls in you can see a groggy Jiyong with his eyes half open looking and smiling at Taeyang. You stay seated as he walks over to see his best friend.

“You look rough,” Taeyang jokes and Jiyong tries to laugh, but he lets out a groan.

“We’ll give him something for the pain,” the nurse says gently and you both nod at her and Taeyang makes eye contact with you. Jiyong notices and follows his gaze to see you sitting there sheepishly. His eyes open a little more.

“I’m going to call the guys and let them know you’re out of surgery and they can come up tomorrow to see you,” he puts a hand on Jiyong’s shoulder and exists the room. It’s silent, an awkward silence but you decide to stand up anyway. He watches you tiptoe to him, holding your arms over your frame, as if that makes this less intimidating. You instinctively reach out and touch his cheek, but he pulls his face away.

“You can go,” his tone is angry, harsh, and the words, they sting.

“What if I don’t want to,” you ask sitting on the edge of his bed. He looks at you, and for the first time you get to see the damage done in detail. A black eye, bruised cheek, a cut the lip and small bruises on his forehead. You exhale when he just stares at you, cold and unfeeling.

“What if I want you to?” he glances up from the blanket he was looking at when he spoke.

“If that’s what you want, tell me to leave and I’ll go.” You stand up, bracing yourself for the words. He parts his lips for a moment, but he can’t make himself tell you to leave. He closes his mouth and purses his lips with closed eyes. You exhale a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You relax your shoulders and sit down on the bed again.

“Doc says you’ll need help once you get out of here,” you mumble after a moment of silence.

“I’ll figure something out,”

“I don’t mind helping, Jiyong. That is, if you want it,” you can’t look at him, but instead the floor of the emergency room.

The nurse comes in before he can even try to protest.

“We need to get you moved to a room. You’ll be here for a few days so we can monitor you.” The nurse takes the bed and you update everyone on what’s happening.

In the room you sit beside him in one of those reclining chairs beside the bed. He dozes off from the pain medication and you start sketching something in a book you brought in your purse. A nurse brings his dinner in and she politely brings something for you as well.

“Ji,” you touch him as gentle as dove, trying not to hurt him. He stirs and opens his eyes to look at you.

“Hmm,” he mutters.

“Your dinner is here,” you point at the table sitting above his bed. He looks at it and tries to pick up the fork but his hand won’t grasp it.

“Shit,” he says under his breath and for a moment you watch him, unsure if you should step in. After a couple of failed attempts he turns his head to the side.

“I’m not hungry,” his voice is quiet but frustrated. You lower the railing to his bed and he looks at you surprised. Quietly you get some food on his fork and hold it to his mouth. He looks in your eyes with a frustrated look.

“If you’re gonna survive this, you gotta eat. Plain and simple,” he slowly opens his mouth with furrowed brows, looking like a small child.

“You don’t have to feed me,” he says with food in his mouth.

“No, I don’t,” you get another bite for him.

“But I’m going to.” You grab a napkin and dab his mouth. You both stare at each other. You clear your throat and turn your attention to his tray. You pick up a drink for him and he takes a sip. Once he’s finishes you sit down and eat the small snack the nurse brought for you.

“Go get something to actually eat, I’ll be fine.” He says.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Y/N,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Ji, I’m not leaving you.” Your stubbornness evident.

“Not again,” you mumble to yourself.

“Then at least order some real food,” he stares at the TV.

“Will that make you happy,” you ask and he glances at you.

“Wouldn’t make me angry,” he slightly shrugged before wincing in pain.

“Being a sarcastic smart ass is gonna cost for a little while,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes. You order something to eat and as you go to put your card info in, he protests.

“Just use mine, I know it’s stored,” he says his eyes not looking away from the TV on the wall.

“I have my own money, I don’t need,”

“Just like I don’t need you here helping me, but you’re doing it anyway.” He look at you with a small smirk, using your own logic against you.

“Ji, really,” you try to protest.

“It’s fine, just use my card. You relent just using his money get something to eat. It arrives and you go to the nurses station to pick it up. Walking back in he watches you closely.

“Here, don’t tell the nurse,” you wink as you set the vanilla shake down on the tray. He quirks a brow up at you.

“I didn’t ask for-”

“No, but you also didn’t ask for this,” you motion around the room, “and I’m trying to be nice.”

He sighs in defeat, once again wincing in pain. You check the clock.

“I’ll grab the nurse, it’s time for your medication.” Before he can even protest you’re out the door looking for one.

She comes in a dispenses the necessary pain meds and leaves once he takes them. The room is awkwardly silent again.

“Thank you,” he mumbles when you come over to put the cup up to his lips.

“For what?” you ask confused.

“For being here, staying, here.” His voice is quiet and you offer him a sweet smile.

“There’s no where else I’d rather be.”

That night the two of you get little to no sleep, the chair there is completely uncomfortable and the nurses keep waking him up to get his vitals. You hold on to his left arm anytime they need to get his blood pressure because of how bad it hurts and you’re trying to offer him some comfort.

The next morning comes and the guys all show up to the hospital with gifts from the gift shop and Taeyang brings a bag over to you.

"Some snacks and a word search to help pass the time." He shrugs.

“Thank you,” you hug his neck and for a moment you feel like everything might somehow wind up being ok. The guys stay for a while and you decide to take a minute to get some fresh air. Seunghyun follows you out.

“Hey,” he calls as you get on the elevator. You offer him a smile.

“Thanks for taking such good care of him, if we could,” he offers you a sincere look.

“I know,” you nod and sigh.

“I just didn’t expect this to be, what it is.” You can’t really describe it because you don’t really know what it is. Is it awkward, is it easy, is it stressful? All of the above.

“It’s not easy,” he puts a hand on your shoulder. You rub your forehead.

“And I feel like it’s my fault he’s even here. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“If I hadn’t asked him to talk,”

“Hey,” Seunghyun’s arm goes around your shoulder pulling you into his side.

“He offered to come over, this isn’t your fault and this isn’t his fault. It’s the dumbass driver who hit him. He ran a red light.” He tries to reason with you, to ease some of the guilt.

“You really should go home, even if it’s just for a little while. Take a nap, get some actual rest. I can stay today until you can come back.” He offers.

“What if something happens? No, I need to be here.”

“IF something happens, I’ll call you myself.”

“I just don’t want to be away from him,” you mumble as you step outside into the cool spring air.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later. Rest while you can, because he’s likely to be a handful at home.” You nod your head knowing he’s right.

“Call me in an hour,” you point at him. He nods as he walks you to your car. You go back to your apartment for a quick nap, or at least that’s what you tried to do. You kept tossing and turning your mind slowly starting to process the craziness of the day. You stare at the ceiling before deciding you can’t sleep. You pick up your phone and see a text from Seunghyun.

Doctor came in, said Jiyong looks good and he can go home tomorrow morning. Ji wants me to help you move some of your stuff back to his place so you have what you need.

You get up immediately and call him.

“Hey, I’m on my way to your place now.”

“Is someone with him?”

“Daesung is staying, calm down.” He chuckles.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you grumble.

“Relax, I wouldn’t leave him by himself, knowing him, he’d try to get up and walk out now.” You both chuckle at his stubbornness. Seunghyun gets to your place and you guys start boxing stuff up.

“From now on, I’m living out of boxes,” you joke and he smiles nodding his head.

“You know,” he starts as he packs some of your clothes in a box, “He really hasn’t been the same since you left.” You freeze and look at him through the vanity mirror where you were gathering up your makeup.

“Seunghyun, I,”

“Just listen,” he asks but in a way that’s telling you to do so.

“Don’t get me wrong you two are no where near perfect, but when things were good, it was obvious and he thrived.” You smile fondly on the memories.

“But when things were bad,” you dared to ask.

“It was obvious in his countenance. But he still talked about you like you were the love of his life. Even after he told us about your big blow up.” You nod sadly.

“At the hospital,” he beings as he tapes a box up for you as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“He was talking about how you were there and he didn’t necessarily need you, and we all jumped his ass for it because he knows he does.” Seunghyun shakes his head.

“And he admitted something that you can’t tell him, not yet at least.” You turn around and put your full attention on him.

“Despite everything, he admitted he misses you and that it’s going be nice to have you, and I quote, ‘home’.” Your heart skips a beat and for a moment your breath hitches and you can’t breathe.

“But, don’t tell him you know. He isn’t ready for that conversation yet. The doctors also said he needs to stay as calm as possible. So no teasing,” he scolds playfully. You give him a genuine hug.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Come on, let’s get this stuff back to his place, so you can unpack and get settled before he gets home.” You drive in your car to familiar house that sits back off the road. Opening the door it smells like home, it smells like what you remember. Princess Zoa even comes to greet you at the door.

“Hi, baby,” you coo as you set the box down and scratch behind her ears. She purrs and meows at you endlessly as she goes in between your legs. After a moment you make sure to put her up so she can’t get out while you unload your things for a second time in this house.

As you spread a blanket out in the living room, you do a double take. You notice a familiar painting in a beautiful gold frame.

“He-he framed it?” you ask yourself.

“Oh, yeah, you know when he first saw that, he went on and on about it. He even took a picture of it and sent it to us.” Your eyes water and you blink it back.

“I can’t believe he kept it,” you mumble. And you can feel Seunghyun’s gaze on you, carefully. He smiles feeling a sense nostalgia.

“We should get this finished,” he mumbles tapping the box in his hands with his fingertips.

“Yeah,” you sniffle slightly. You hadn’t expected the gesture to hit you so hard.

“He really did love me,” you say to yourself with a deprecating laugh, your voice is sorrowful.

“Yeah.” Seunghyun agrees.

“And I was horrible to him,” you whimper as you cover your face. He looks at you for a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“It’s not too late to start fresh,” he reminds you.

“He said he was done forever, Seung,”

“I know what he said.” He strokes your hair trying to help you calm down.

“Look, just do what you’ve been doing. Show him the love you really have for him. And when the time comes, after he’s healed and feeling better, talk to him. Explain it all.” You nod and pull away from him. He smiles at you and after a few hours everything is unpacked, even your art supplies and canvases.

Back at the hospital that night, Jiyong and Daesung are chatting.

“Man, if you miss her just tell her that,” Jiyong cuts his eyes at his bandmember.

“Ok, or don’t,” he trails off and darts his gaze elsewhere.

“You know why I can’t tell her that. I told her I was done, that we were done forever. So regardless of whether or not I miss her, I need to keep my word,” his voice is serious.

“Dude, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” Jiyong shoots his brows up and his eyes are big as saucers.

“What the,” he’s interrupted by his friend once more.

“You're going crazy without her,”

“I went crazy with her!”

“Yeah, fair point, but you still love her and you know it,” he points at his friend. Jiyong looks at his hands in his lap. He doesn’t protest. He knows he does. Part of him can’t wait to have you back at home, but part of him is scared too. He just got used to how quiet the house was without you. Now you’re coming back and he had no idea what was going to happen.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Daesung calls out. You and Seunghyun walk in and you have on a large jacket with a bump under it. Jiyong eyes you suspiciously as a soft meow comes from it. Before you know it, Zoa has popped her little head out and meows looking around.

Jiyong can’t help the genuine smile that grows from ear to ear, causing his eyes to squint slightly with a soft laugh. You put the cat in his lap gently and she purrs.

“I can’t let her stay long, but I figured she missed you and you missed her,” he looks at his fur-child with all the love in the world and for the first time since this morning, things felt somewhat calm and under control.

There’s a knock on the door and you scramble to grab Zoa who hisses when you try to pick her up. The nurse comes in and spots the cat, eyeing you guys suspiciously. You give her an awkward smile, one that’s trying to apologize for sneaking in a cat.

“Just get her out of here by the time shift change happens. Which is in,” she looks at her watch, “An hour,” she says and you nod.

“Thank you,” you wave her off and Jiyong, while he can’t pick much of anything up due to numbness in his hands, pets his cat the best he can. The room is silent for a minute other than the sound of the purring from Zoa.

“Thank you, he says suddenly, “For bringing her.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem," you gently smile.

“Were you able to get everything moved in?” He doesn’t look at you, only at his furbaby as the guys stand there feeling like they are watching an awkward movie.

“Yeah, Seunghyun was a big help and I got everything squared away.” You rock on your heels looking at the guys who look just as unsure as you do.

“As much as I want to keep her here, take her home. I’ll see her tomorrow,” he gives the cat a few kisses and snuggles before handing her to Seunghyun.

“You don’t want me to take her back?” you ask with a quirked brow.

“No, I want you to stay." Your breath hitches in your throat.

If you enjoyed please consider buying me a coffee

I'm working on Chapter 7 now and I'll tag you guys when it's out later today.

Tags: @loveesiren @natalicss @mashtatosworld @multifanxtvshows @kjydrgnnnn

[godsunholycreation]

Words cannot describe how much Sherlock Holmes means to me. Long post begins

I have always been a bookworm, but when I was a child (I'm talking pre-school and primary school), I had almost no control of my attention span, making it difficult to read long stories. Not only it was difficult to concentrate on reading and not letting my mind wander and make up my own plots with what I've just read, but I also disliked finding the page I've stopped on so I used to just... Open the book on a random page and continue reading. Bookmarks didn't help because I constantly forgot to use them or kept losing them.

I don't remember the exact age when I got the first book about Sherlock Holmes, but I remember that I made an effort to actually read it thoroughly from the very start to the very end, that's how much it captivated me.

When I was little, I reacted like "omg! A smart and observant detective who solves difficult cases! And he knows so much about so many topics! I also like knowing a lot of things! I need to read more", but as years went on, I realised I kept returning to those stories and realising

Can't form a long-lasting friendship? It's alright, Sherlock Holmes hadn't met John Watson until he was almost 30

Realise that people of opposite gender aren't nearly as attractive as they are "supposed" to be? Time to reread adventures of Mr Holmes who has never ever showed a speckle of interest in women!

Contemplating the fact that you're probably aspec? You know who almost definitely is too! Proceed as described in previous paragraph.

Concluding that you are clearly neurodivergent? Don't worry, your favourite victorian detective knows the deal!

To sum it all up, after many years I can definitely state that this man is if not a pillar of my identity, then at least an extremely valuable brick in its walls. He literally popped up in the critical checkpoints of pre-adult development so I could see a queer (in all meanings) person living a long and meaningful life doing what he loves with people who love and/or respect him and realise that I have a chance too, I just have to not give up and put in some work to make it happen.

[brotherwtf]

Mer AU Headcanons 2/2

Gale gets the pirate ship Bucky is on to a a dangerous area, where it eventually sinks. However, despite himself, Gale decides to save Bucky because he’s intrigued by him and he feels some gratitude for how Bucky protected him earlier.

Bucky has a head injury from the wreck and he’s unconscious, but Gale manages to drag him to a rocky area where he can lay him out on a rock in relative safety. He takes back his jewelry and waits for sunrise.

When Bucky wakes up, he thinks he’s in heaven or just hallucinating, because he opens his eyes to a dazzling morning and a beautiful (naked) man sunning a few rocks away from him. And then it all comes back - the merman, the chase, the shipwreck. He’s scared, but he tries not to show it.

Naturally, it doesn't take long before he starts talking to Gale. He asks him why he saved Bucky and if he intends to eat him. Gale tells him he just wanted his jewely back (lie) and that he hasn’t decided yet if he wants to eat Bucky (mers don’t eat humans).

While they wait for Gale to regain some of his energy and decide what's next, Bucky talks to him nonstop. Although Gale doesn’t like humans at all, Bucky's yapping gets through his walls. See, Gale has been quite lonely lately, ever since his best friend (Marge) moved in with her mate, and while he does have a pet octopus, he realizes he missed talking. So, eventually, he starts participating in the conversation.

At first, he intends to leave Bucky where he is, but Bucky tells him he might die if he's just left out there, he’s not sure he can make it to the shore and then fend for himself. So, after some hesitation, Gale decides to take him home to his place.

Gale lives in a grotto that's extremely difficult to access from the cliff side, but can be accessed underwater. His home has a large underwater structure and a smaller, cozy grotto part. It’s tricky, but he manages to get Bucky inside the grotto.

He tends to his own and Bucky's wounds, then throws a whole fish at Bucky, calling it breakfast. Merpeople usually eat things raw, but they do have their own dishes (think Hawaii poke). But when Bucky tells him that he can’t (won’t) eat raw fish and explains to him what roasting is, Gale begins to realize that taking care of him will be more challenging than he thought.

Bonus hc:

Marge is distrustful of John and calls him Gale's human pet for a while.

Marge's mate is Crank, who's much friendlier with humans and has had some contact with them in the past. He gives Gale useful advice.

Gale likes to sleep in his "bed" in the shallow waters of his grotto, where he feels safe and where the gently sloshing waves rock him to sleep. John thinks it's really cute.

I would love to know your thoughts if this inspires anything 🩷

part two as promised people

Gale uses his siren ways to lure the ship as he normally would, and the ship follows him because he's the treasure they lost, only to fall victim to the same trick as the first time, and Gale ends up looking through the wreckage for John, partially hoping he's still alive and he doesn't quite know why yet

he finds John's body strewn across a rocky outpost, unconscious but alive, and Gale drags him beneath the water to his little cove where he lives, waiting anxiously for John to wake up so he can thank him or call him an idiot or something

but when John wakes up his eyes are bleary and they widen when they see Gale, reaching out to him in awe

"are you an angel?" John asks and Gale coughs a little bit

"I ain't no angel," Gale mutters and John just shakes his head

"sure look like an angel to me," John says

"you need to rest, you're still injured," Gale says, and hopes it's the end of it

but it's not, John just sits up and starts striking up a conversation with him, gesticulating with his hands to make a point, dragging Gale into the conversation even when he doesn't want to be

and Gale hates to admit that he doesn't mind talking to John, doesn't hate the constant conversation that John feels he needs, he's been so lonely recently and it's nice to have someone else with him, even if he's a little odd

Gale nurses John back to health, forcing him to eat raw fish or make a fire if he hates it so much, glares at John when he complains and blossoms under his wanting gaze, hey maybe his scales even flush pink when he's embarrassed and John just bites his lip, knows he has an effect on him

one day after Gale swims out to get more food for them, John's waiting at the edge of the water when he gets back, leaning over and swirling his hand in the pearlescent ripples, smiling down at Gale when he pops his head up

"it really is beautiful, isn't it?" John whispers, leaning on his elbow and peering deep into Gale's eyes

Gale can feel his cheeks get hot and he just nods

"yeah, the water really is beautiful in here," Gale mutters and can feel the low rumble of John's chuckle

"that's not what I meant," John says and reaches forward, threading a hand in Gale's soaking hair and bringing him in for a salty kiss, leaning halfway over the edge of the rock and teetering dangerously close into falling into the water

and damn, the choirs of angels sing because John tastes delicious, tastes so good and hot and it's everything Gale didn't know he needed, and of course being the asshat he is he grabs John by his shoulders and pulls him into the water, laughing into John's lips when he gasps because of the cold :))

so so sweetness and I absolutely love Marge being so over Gale's human friend, maybe she visits them sometimes and John can't help but flirt, "damn is the job requirement for mermaids god like beauty?" and Marge just splashes John in the face before promptly leaving, but Gale finds it cute and endearing

omg again all of your hcs are absolutely perfect these are just some added on thoughts, am definitely gonna need to add a new tag to my master post for this au

[mooonveiled]

Michikatsu felt a weight lift off his chest as he said those words. While he previously allowed envy to blind him, he remembered that he once vowed to protect his younger brother when they were kids. And he intended to keep that vow.

He never thought that one day he’d end up making up with Yoriichi and joining him to slay demons. And not just any demons. But also they were training to kill the demon king himself. It was strange how Michikatsu nearly became a demon himself. He was very close. But that was in the past — it didn’t matter anymore.

Where does one begin to learn how to drop the emotions of anger and pain? He knew that it wouldn’t be an overnight thing but like he said, if he wanted to move forward, Michikatsu needed to let go.

“. . . It’s quite difficult to even begin to forgive father for what he put us through.” He murmured.

Even if it was for the sake of learning sun breathing, it was difficult to let go of those feelings of resentment. Instead of raising them as equals, the man clearly only had space to favor just one of them. The last thing he heard from their father was that he might’ve passed away after he got married. Though he wasn’t too sure how true it was. Either way, neither of his sons ended up inheriting anything.

He glanced over at him. “. . . If I refuse to let go of the resentment I feel towards our father, does it hinder my ability to reach my full potential?”

Letting go of the resentment didn’t necessarily meant that he’d be forgiven. Right?

As far as Michikatsu was aware, Yoriichi had also fully cut off their father even as a grown man and hadn’t forgiven him either. Has he…?

“Have you had any contact with father after you.. left?” Michikatsu asked as he caught up with his brother and looked over at him.

The demon they encountered was like a piece of cake to take down with his own moon breathing style while Yoriichi silently observed. In the past few weeks after the two brothers had finally mended their relationship, Yoriichi had become like a mentor to his older brother.

While they walked into the woods together, Michikatsu listened carefully to his brother’s instructions. Aside from having to let go of the negative emotions that were holding him back, he’d also had to learn visualization and alignment.

And over time Michikatsu started to gradually let go of some of the negative emotions. Though that was still a work in progress. His expression had also changed, while he normally would’ve been frowning, now he looked somewhat peaceful.

One afternoon, Yoriichi had been training him again with learning how to use the sun breathing technique. His first attempts were awkward and forced. He remembered the days when their father had him training to be the next warrior and how any mistakes would’ve gotten him severely punished.

Trauma.

Taking a deep breath, Michikatsu reminded himself that he was no longer underneath their father’s harsh scrutiny and that he wouldn’t get punished. He gave himself a moment to let go of that tension on his shoulders and tried again. As they continued their journey, they encountered more demons and Michikatsu started taking a different approach when it came down to eliminating them. After finding a village to rest, one night, after intense training, Michikatsu fully let his guard down as he fell asleep on Yoriichi’s shoulder. Just like when they were children.

Michikatsu's voice rang out with unwavering strength as he stepped back from their embrace, his gaze now filled with a determined spark.

He understood that the path ahead would be fraught with difficulties, yet he felt prepared to confront them boldly. The idea of his brother accompanying him was unexpected, yet it brought a sense of reassurance. He recognized that his own insights and support would be crucial as they delved into the perilous realm of demons.

Yoriichi acknowledged this shift in his brother's spirit with a nod of approval.

He realized that they were embarking on a lengthy and demanding journey, one that would challenge both their relationship and their skills to the utmost.

“We will encounter numerous obstacles, but together we will triumph. As we journey forth, I will impart not only the sun breathing technique but also the wisdom to master your emotions and become a true guardian of humanity. You must learn to fight with passion, not merely with your sword.” Yoriichi declared, his expression serious.

He observed Michikatsu absorbing his words, the gravity of the moment settling in. Throughout his battles, anger had always been his driving force, yet he understood that such fury alone would never vanquish the demons lurking in the dark.

He needed to unearth a new kind of strength within himself, one that could channel the radiant energy of the sun.

Their adventure commenced with Yoriichi at the forefront, his brother’s steps resonating softly in the tranquil woods. Their conversation was sparse, but the quiet was far from awkward. It was a silence brimming with the potential for transformation, for personal growth, and for a future where they would stand united as equals.

The first demon they faced was a minor foe, hardly a challenge for the two adept slayers. Yoriichi observed as Michikatsu swiftly eliminated it using his moon breathing technique, a skill forged from his anger and resentment. Yet, Yoriichi recognized that this power was inherently limited, incapable of reaching the heights that sun breathing could achieve.

As they delved deeper into the forest, Yoriichi began to instruct his brother on the fundamentals of sun breathing. He emphasized the significance of visualization, encouraging Michikatsu to envision the sun’s warm embrace as his own, and the necessity of aligning one’s breath with the heartbeat of the universe.

He watched as his brother found himself drawn to the concept, the idea of harnessing something so pure and powerful resonating with the part of him that longed for redemption.

He focused on his breath, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin, and tried to channel it into his breathing.

The first attempts were awkward, his breathing erratic and forced. But Yoriichi remained patient, offering guidance and gentle corrections. As the hours turned into days, they encountered more demons, and with each fight, Yoriichi observed his brother’s technique, noticing the subtle changes in his movements and the way he approached his enemies.

[jjkyaoi]

everrryyy time people complain about adult gojo not having a big emotional reaction to things i have to laugh because? ..,,when has that ever been smth he’s done? 😭 he isn’t the type of person to start crying/yelling and or openly expressing when something distresses him—it’s literally been a reoccurring thing that he canonically has trouble w emotions since the beginning. like. him not having a big reaction to peoples deaths isn’t “out of character” or “bad writing” it’s LITERALLY WHAT Y’ALL SHOULD EXPECT FROM HIM 😭 😭 and again, him acting colder and internalizing things is literally js how he deals with situations. he deals w them by not Letting said emotions get to him cause it could make a tense situation worse!! letting his emotions get to him was what made him so easy to seal!!! it doesn’t mean he doesn’t gaf!!

[freakinator]

If you don’t mind, I’m gonna yap for a second.. I think another problem with Kab is how sudden the turn around was. Like in the first convo where Kab was acting “evil”, Zam fought back with the argument that she’s wasn’t really evil at all and I think he did believe that at least a little. And if Kab slowly began to turn her path around then he would be a bit more trusting cause he would have SEEN her actual emotional growth but the turn around was so fast, it feels like there was no emotional growth at all and that Kab is still the same as before, cause she basically is. She still wants Mane dead no matter the cost and she’s still, intentionally or not, trying to manipulate Zam, but she wants to be treated as if she’s had that whole long term emotional growth

yeah ii think this is where her majority experience with short-term smps really bit her in the ass, i think there are two main directions that other ppl take it tho: 1. is as what you speculate in that some ppl think that she hasnt had genuine growth and hasnt changed at all and 2. that she genuinely changes too quickly and is therefore unreliable regardless of if shes being honest or not

i think the reason zam was so receptive to her in silent scream was cause this has been a recurrent plot point for a couple streams now, kab trespassing zams base to yap while zam tries to decipher her wants and motivations until eventually she just let it all out and in that instance i think he did genuinely believed that she changed even if it was slowly/just a little bit

....but then die for you happened lol

ssee the thing about kab is that shes shes all-or-nothing, going from one extreme to the next after just a little bit of change in character which can be jarring to some ppl to say the least (unless you thought she was lying and therefore any character development shouldnt be believed i suppose) but is something that was a great asset in shorter and arena-based smps where you had to get as much advantage against your opponent as possible without having to worry about the long-term consequences of these actions ie them not trusting you while still having to interact often in mundane ways even after messing with them. while she Can be swayed this only really works with things she was already unsure of which while a great motivator and trait to keep her on track with her goals (again another great trait for short-term smps), can be really jarring and distressing for other ppl if the things she was absolutely sure about goes against their own perspective like for example her thinking that derapchu killing her constitutes zam getting payback for her as the protector of the server (The protector, not A protector like zam insists, The protector of the server)

i think shes far too used to the fast-paced instant acceptance of changed personality in arena smps that is a natural consequence of them being short-term and having a revolving door of members and teams which is why she expects ppl to accept her growth and efforts so quickly even if realistically nobody would hand over their trust that easily esp after essentially being harassed in their own home multiple times, like even in normal smps where theres a baseline amount of trust ppl still wouldnt trust you after doing that, what more in a server like lifesteal where general trust is low basically all the time?

[racke7]

Exam hit me with two concept that I've literally never heard of (or at least never been explained to me).

"semantic html" -> the <> with things like "img" and other clearly-defined content to them.

"dependency injection" -> a method that receives objects, instead of creating them from scratch (aka, literally how all of our programming is done).

Thankfully, they only amount to 15% of the exam-result, so hopefully I'll still pass?