#what did you expect from a coma patient

[itoof137]

Yoooohooo! I have cooked some kaishin food again! This time is for

Kaishin One Prompt Challenge 2023!

In this AU, soulmates can hear each others heartbeat:

Since waking up from a 12 years long coma, Kuroba Kaito found himself trying to cope with a lot of things: how all his family and friends have moved on; the name phantom thief Kid who destroyed Pandora have been long forgotten; and worst of all, his soulmate's mysterious death 10 years ago.

Oh, and what is with this young detective who is a split image of Shinichi?

Hoohoo, I wonder where will this go? <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

Thank you Mac for this awesome event! I have a lot of fun working on this! (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

Also this art got inspired heavily by this beautiful little comic ゆらゆら | 🐟 #pixiv. Check it out!

[pascaloverx]

HAUNTED

Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didn’t expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murderer—and even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future. If there's no interest, unfortunately, I will be abandoning the idea.

AO3 LINK ONE

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

PREVIEW

Strange noises surround you, and the brightness stings your eyes, but you want to wake up. In the distance, you hear a woman shouting for a nurse to come help. Is she a relative? A friend? You wish you knew. You feel connected to machines, surrounded by tubes, which nearly makes you gag. “Don’t pull on any of the wires attached to you. A nurse will be here to help you. My name is Lois Tryon. Detective Lois Tryon.” The woman speaks, trying to sound gentle but coming off as forced. She smells of cigarettes and alcohol. You remain silent, motionless. You don’t want to die—even though you don’t even know who you are.

"How long have I been here, Detective Tryon?" you murmur with some difficulty. There might be other important questions, but right now, this is the only one you need answered.

"About two years," she says, sounding almost excited about your recovery. A medical team enters your hospital room, adjusting and checking your body as if you were a doll—a sensation that’s starting to make you feel nauseous. The detective vanishes amidst the medical team as they check your reflexes, vital signs, temperature, and run several other clinical tests that will apparently tell them how you’ve woken up and if you’re truly all right.

Everything felt so secretive, with nurses whispering as if you couldn’t hear them. Two doctors were even debating whether they should tell you something or not. They decided to wait for Dr. Mayhew, whoever he might be. After a while, you drifted off to sleep, still waiting for them to explain what was going on. You had the same dream as before—a strikingly attractive man dressed as a priest making you kneel, asking for forgiveness for some unnamed sin. What stood out was how he always touched your face gently, saying that if you truly sought forgiveness for what you had done, you would have to accept your punishment. Then you would start taking off your clothes for him. The man dressed as a priest would then put you between his legs and spank you. He used to ask if you would be a good girl for him, and when you answered; he would whisper to you to take responsibility for what you did. And then you found yourself surrounded by blood and corpses, like a nightmare.

This time, you opened your eyes, letting out an almost desperate cry. There are fewer tubes attached to you, fewer wires surrounding you. There’s also a doctor—a different one from those who tended to you before. He’s lying back, asleep in a chair that doesn’t look at all comfortable. You wonder if it’s common for doctors to fall asleep beside their patients or if you’re getting special treatment due to the time you’ve been unconscious. The doctor is strikingly handsome. He looks exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his breathing deep and steady. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t wake at your cry.

You try to get up, nearly falling back at the sudden motion, but on the second attempt, you manage with some difficulty. Unsteady, you grab one of the spare blankets at the foot of your hospital bed and gently drape it over him. But there’s something peculiar—you feel as if you’ve seen him before. You move closer, laying your fingers lightly on the warm skin of his hand. His hair falls messily over his face, obscuring your view. Then you recognize him: the slightly wicked priest from your dreams, too alluring to be a saint, who meted out your penance. Yet something within you stirs, as if he holds a deeper meaning, something that seduces and captivates you. You touch the scar on his forehead, feeling a surge of electricity ripple through your body.

Then he grasps your hand, pulling you down onto his lap, where you land anyway. You’re silent for a moment, staring at him. “You used to brush my hair away from my face whenever you wanted to tell me something embarrassing,” he says, his voice close to yours, a sly smile playing on his lips as he settles you in his lap. “You’d say that if you focused on my scar, you wouldn’t feel so shy talking to me.” You’re surprised, but you don’t move. Something about being close to him feels familiar, leaving your body unresponsive in his presence.

“I imagine you don’t speak like that to all your patients, Doctor…” you say, trying to keep a serious tone as you study the face of the man whose lap you’re seated on. He chuckles, clearly amused. “Dr. Mayhew to some, Charlie to others. But to you, I’m husband.”

The words startle you, and you jump off his lap, steadying yourself on the hospital bed. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you ask, bewildered. You’re married?

“I know this might be difficult to understand, but we are married. Don’t feel pressured to remember—it’s all right…” he murmurs, rising from the chair and moving toward you. His calm tone, almost as if he’s trying to make you feel safe, is surprisingly comforting. Your gaze falls to his hands as they reach out to you, but you instinctively move to the opposite side of the bed.

“I’m sorry, but there must be some mistake. You can’t be married to me. Your face looks like it stepped right out of a magazine. I can barely believe you’re a doctor, let alone my husband. If this is a joke, know that it’s unfair to mock someone who doesn’t even know her own name,” you say, sounding slightly indignant. But honestly, what are the odds he’s really your husband?

Dr. Mayhew laughs, a sound both frustrated and enchanted. He runs a hand through his hair as if searching for patience. “It’s funny you’d say that. When we first met, you called me a ‘Ken wannabe.’ Later, you swore you hadn’t fallen for me because of my looks. When you remember that, I’ll be sure to remind you of it,” he says, his gaze deep and searching, as if his eyes are speaking more than his words.

“If you’re my husband, then tell me something only you would know about me!” you exclaim before he can come any closer. Your hands are trembling—whether from the intensity of his stare or some other reason, you’re not sure.

"You like to fuck when you're stressed, usually you prefer me to fuck you from behind but when you're pissed off, you bounce on me like there's no tomorrow. You don't like to feel pressure so I personally think you married me not because I'm handsome but because I let you be in charge. When I asked you to marry me, you broke up with me. You thought I was rushing things, and you couldn't stand the idea of not being able to give me children. You had two cats when you were younger and you named them 'Beelzebub' and 'Crowley' because your mother was very religious and you never liked her." He seems sincere, even if he's embarrassing you on purpose. It's obvious from the way he talks about your sex life, which you can't even confirm.

“Hold on, Doctor. We both know the sexual details were unnecessary. If I can’t remember other parts of my life, am I really going to remember what our… sex life was like?” you say, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Your hands are beginning to sweat, but you don’t break eye contact with Dr. Mayhew.

“Actually, of all the details I’ve shared, those are the only ones we can test right now,” he says, closing in on you with surprising speed. His gaze is fixed on you, predatory and intent, as though you’re his prey. Strangely, you feel no embarrassment—just a stirring curiosity to uncover this for yourself.

“Do you often suggest casually sleeping with your patients? We are in your workplace, after all,” you say, feigning reprimand, though part of you wonders if he’s ever done this here before.

“I only suggest it to those who are married to me. And honestly,” he says, drawing closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper, “we’ve done far worse in both our workplaces.” He nods between himself and you, hinting at shared memories. There’s a tension in the air, something almost tangible. You swallow hard, unsure why his closeness doesn’t make you uncomfortable—but rather feels strangely familiar.

“You sound extremely dangerous saying things like that,” you murmur, holding Dr. Mayhew’s gaze as if daring him. For a moment, you think he might close the distance and kiss you—a thought that leaves you unsettled. How should you respond? You’re not even sure if you believe he’s really your husband.

“You were always one to take risks; has amnesia made you forget your true nature?” His fingers trace lightly along your arm, his gaze heavy with desire. He clearly wants you, yet that alone proves nothing. Whoever you once were, in this moment, you feel as though you’re standing bare before him.

"I hope I’m not interrupting the happy couple, but I heard Mrs. Mayhew was awake. I thought I’d finally come to speak with my most anticipated witness. I’ve waited two years for this conversation,” Detective Lois Tryon stands in the doorway of your hospital room, a victorious smile on her face. Dr. Mayhew doesn’t look pleased to see her there. They exchange a tense look, while you remain close to him, caught between their silent standoff.

“I don’t believe it’s appropriate to question my wife mere hours after she’s woken from a two-year coma,” Dr. Mayhew says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re aware of her memory issues, Detective Tryon. It would be courteous of you to give her a moment to adjust.” You’re taken aback but stay pressed against his well-defined frame, momentarily wondering if he’s a doctor or a bodybuilder.

“It’s no surprise you don’t think it’s appropriate for me to question your wife,” Detective Tryon replies, her tone laced with sharpness. “I would have to reveal to her that her husband is a primary suspect in a series of murders. That he’s so determined to evade justice he might’ve orchestrated the accident that left her comatose. And that he’s been having an affair with the lead investigator of this case—while she’s been unconscious.” Mayhew tenses, a flicker of fury crossing his face as he grips your waist tighter. You watch as his features contort slightly, weighing the situation. You can’t help but wonder if you’re witnessing an innocent man being falsely accused or a guilty man feeling the noose tighten. For some reason, this only heightens your intrigue in him.

[revelboo]

begging on my hands and knees for the coma kid part 4 i love it sm i want more. so long as ur okay with it, plsplspls continue the coma kid

One lovesick puppy coming up

The Coma Kid Pt 4

TFO B-127 x Reader

• “Oh, oh. Wait. Here,” he says, banging against the side of the entry to his quarters and you look guiltily up from where you’re trying to figure out how to get down from his berth. “Soft things. I thought you might like soft things. Because you’re soft?” And he walks over with what you suspect might be every single rag the aliens have and dumps them on the berth with you, beaming like he expects you to be excited. Play along, you remind yourself. Especially since he just gave you a possible way to climb down as soon as you’re unsupervised. You can tie these together and climb down. Maybe. You just need something to secure them to.

• “Aren’t you thoughtful,” you say and you smile at him. A real smile. Spark warming, he drops to his knees and leans against the berth, servos dragging you to him. Hears your startled noise as he presses his face against you, drinking in your warmth and that humming feeling of rightness and home. Soaking in the praise even though you’ve got a hand planted against his face trying to push him away. It’s okay. You’re just not used to being handled yet, but you’re getting there. You didn’t smack him this time. That’s progress. He can be patient.

• “I want you to be happy. Are you? Happy?” Giving up as he nuzzles his face against you, you awkwardly pat him on the helm. Because he really is just a giant, extremely obnoxious puppy. At your half hearted ‘sure,’ he just grins. Servos curling around you, he picks you up so he can sprawl on his back, placing you on his chassis. Planting your hands on him, you bite into the inside of your cheek. Reminding yourself to not smack his big, grabby hands. “Were you lonely when I left?” He asks even though he was gone, what, an hour tops?

• You’re silent, expression serious again. Making him think that you did miss him. Something that pleases him and makes him unhappy at the same time. Because he understands being lonely, knows that pain very well. And you’re never going to be lonely again, because he’s going to make sure you know you’re wanted. That you’re not going to be abandoned like he was.

• If you just say sure again, will he get even clingier? Because you can’t try to escape if he thinks he can’t leave you alone. Most likely you’ll only get one chance. One chance to get out of giant robot hell and as far from that uncanny feeling of belonging that you get swamped with whenever he touches you. Some weird alien thing he’s doing to you to trick your brain into thinking everything is good when it’s definitely not. “Were you lonely?” You counter.

• Smile faltering slightly as he runs his servos over your hips and up your sides, his thoughts turn almost against his will to sublevel fifty. To being alone for so long time had lost all meaning. Venting unsteadily, he tries to shake it off. Forces a smile. It’s fine. It’s over. And now that he has you, he’ll never be lonely again. Never have to remember staring at the furnace at the end of the conveyer belt and the moment he’d realized if he jumped in no one would ever know. No one would mourn him or look for him. Gone like he never even existed. Shaking himself, he taps you gently on the nose. “Food. You need food, right? I’ll get you some. Um, what do you eat?”

Previous

Next

[sidekick-hero]

On top of the world

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, prompt 'graduation' | 616 words | tags: fix it, Steve is a sweetheart and takes care of Eddie, first kiss

Before March 21st, Eddie would have said not graduating again was the worst thing that could happen to him. Now, Eddie knows better.

Nothing like almost dying to put things into perspective, right?

He misses the days when his biggest worry was convincing old witch O'Donnell to give him a "D" and let him leave Hawkins High. Now that he knows what a real hellhole looks like, he thinks he could survive another year under Higgins' thumb.

Still, he doesn't exactly mind when Nancy comes over to his and Wayne's new house—part of the government deal the kids cut for him while he was in a coma—to tell him that he's going to graduate with his class.

He doesn't question it either, just whoops enthusiastically enough to almost pull his stitches, which hurts but has the added bonus of Steve putting his big hands all over him to check his numerous healing wounds.

A week on the run and fighting interdimensional monsters with the guy has changed Eddie's perspective on what’s the best thing that could happen to him as well.

On graduation day, he walks across the stage with a cane for support, something he hadn’t thought possible. It was Steve who had made that happen, even if he refused to accept Eddie's praise. The moment Eddie had muttered under his breath after Nancy had left, ‘But how am I supposed to walk the fucking stage if I can't even go to the bathroom without taking a break?' Steve was a man on a mission.

They practiced every day, before or after Steve's work helping out at the hospital. They needed every helping hand they could get after the damage Vecna and the Upside Down monsters had caused. Eddie could attest to how wonderful Steve's hands were at helping. In fact, he could write songs about it once his hands stopped shaking whenever he held a pencil (or anything, really) for too long.

Eddie wondered if every one of Steve's patients was as in love with him as he was.

As Eddie snags his diploma from Higgins, who looks like he bit into a particularly bitter lemon, Eddie marvels that flipping him the bird isn’t as exhilarating as expected.

Maybe that’s because of last night and the way Steve’s lips felt on his. Every moment since then simply pales in comparison.

Steve had come over after another shift at the hospital, probably sore and exhausted, but giving Eddie one of his dazzling smiles that always made him weak in the knees. Which was kind of counterproductive, considering what they were trying to accomplish here.

They were both trying so hard but Eddie’s legs just wouldn’t cooperate. No matter what Steve tried, they buckled after a few steps, forcing Eddie to sit down or fall down. He had made progress, the muscles in his legs slowly coming back, but three weeks had been too short.

Or so he thought.

Eddie doesn’t know how or why, but this time, Steve had simply positioned himself as far away from Eddie as possible and spread his arms as wide as his smile. “I got you, Eds. I’ll never let you fall. If you can’t trust in yourself just yet, trust in me.”

He had, believing that those strong arms would wrap around him if he stumbled.

He didn’t stumble, didn’t fall, but wrap around him they did anyway. Steve had picked him up and twirled him around, and then he’d kissed him, grinning mouth to grinning mouth.

Eddie might not have graduated top of his class, but he sure feels like he’s on top of the world when he catches Steve’s eye among the cheering group of his friends.

[muletia]

PLS PLS PLS PLS

I'M ON MY KNEES

PLEASE MAKE A STORY WHERE Y/N COMES BACK TO THEIR HOUSE, TIRED FROM WORK AND SUDDENLY SEES OPTIMUS AND MEGATRON OILED UP UNDER THEIR CHRISTMAS TREE 🙏🙏🙏

damn, i wish they would spawn under my christmas tree 😔

𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐩 𝐱 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw: shitpost, crack, cliffhanger (this is never getting a part 2 btw)

word count: 425

You already knew they had invited themselves into your house. The open garage and the doors ripped off their hinges told you everything. Just like the two voices, perfectly familiar to you, coming from the living room—voices you’re still happy to hear. Despite your exhaustion, despite the overwhelming need to collapse onto your bed and fall into a week-long coma, though knowing your guests, that likely won’t be an option.

You’re expecting a classic greeting: sharp dentae on your neck, gentle servos stroking your hand, apologies for their partner’s lack of tact and directness. But what you find in the living room exceeds all your expectations.

"Greetings, dearest."

"You’re later than usual."

You don’t even register their greetings, your attention entirely focused on the two revered leaders kneeling before your Christmas tree. That in itself wasn’t unusual—you’d seen them in less dignified positions. What struck you the most was the meters of tape adorned with a kitschy Christmas pattern wrapped around them. From their necks to their thighs, it clung haphazardly, betraying their lack of skill in handling the task. They had no clue how to make it look seductive rather than tacky. And maybe you could have bought into it—if not for the red and purple bows affixed to their thighs, dangerously close to their pelvises, on their armor, just under their necks, and smack in the middle of their chassis. To make things even more intriguing: Megatron wore red bows, and Optimus purple.

"How did you… where did you…" you start, but when the silver mech smiles, you abandon the question. "You know what, I don’t even want to know..."

You rub your temples as your brain struggles to catch up, while your eyes continue scanning. Especially their armor, which gleamed exceptionally today, looking pristine. As if it were coated with something…

"Did you two oil yourselves up with something?"

"Merry Christmas, [Name]," Optimus smiles gently. The mech beside him wasn’t nearly as angelically patient.

"Are you going to unwrap your gifts already, or are we going to keep wasting time?"

"You know what, I think I’ll wait until tomorrow," you decide to tease them a bit. Now it’s your turn to smile as you see their confused expressions.

"You wouldn’t dare…" Megatron growls.

He starts to squirm, threatening to snap the cute ribbon.

"Alright, alright, calm down…" you sigh. You’d already said goodbye to the dream of your long-awaited nap.

You walk over to them and begin toying with the bows on their chassis.

"I couldn’t have wished for better Christmas gifts."

[elizzsush]

I love you?| Tim Drake X Reader

Tim Drake X Reader

— How can you mourn someone you never truly knew?

AU: None Rating: SFW

Note: Check out this post for context! Tim is a bit of a stalker, but he always has been so its in character. ________________________________

The first thing Tim ever did after meeting you was run a background check.

It had become second nature at that point. A habit he picked up when he was younger that just stuck. Tim had an obsessive personality, so it was a natural habit- or maybe he forced this habit on himself. He's always been one to bite off more than he can chew and then force himself too sallow.

You checked all the boxes. Funny, beautiful, nice to be around, easy to get along with, clean background, you could handle yourself in a fight. You told him you took self defense classes which made sense in Gotham- and had a promising future. Everything a Wayne would be expected to look for in a partner.

It was a bonus that you had a crush on him. It made it easy.

Tim Drake, the smart and handsome boy in your class. It was natural that when he asked you to go out with him, you'd say yes.

Tim was a pretty calculated person, because of his... nighttime activities he had also gotten into the habit of never allowing much room for error. He planned ahead to even minor details.

It was because of all these things you and Tim began your relationship.

“We had a date… We’re are you?” Another reason you and Tim stayed together. You were unbelievably patient. He saw it when he came rushing into the nice restaurant he booked for the two of you- regular clothes and a hastily bought slightly ruined bouquet. All while you sat in a nice dress, a half eaten meal in front of you. You weren’t the type to blow up and get upset, you kept your feelings inside and that worked for him.

Funnily- err, no… horribly enough, Tim never told you why he was late for every other date. Instead he choose a simpler much easier route. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find my keys.”

It worked because no matter how shallow or hard to believe the lies were… you took them. Took them and smiled while you tried to forget about it and enjoy the rest of the night with your boyfriend.

Often it felt like going through the motions with you. You’d smile and enjoy the time you spent with the boy and then wave him goodbye. Being with Tim… it felt so surface level. It felt lonely… Gifts were used as an excuse to not spend real… physical time with you. So, you’d just smile at the flowers you got at your door and the teddy bear, even if they were stereotypical nonpersonal things to give a partner.

While you didn’t know If you loved your own boyfriend, you knew you admired him. You admired how he kept himself in shape despite how busy he was, how he managed all his work with the side projects he kept up with- how he juggled his family. All of it. You admired how he seemed to work for what he had.

You admired how he always seemed so tired. Too tired to properly hide the aspects he didn't want you to see. But you chose to not see them. Not let him know you saw through it. Not giving anything away he didn't want.

Still, all those things kept him so… distant. Like a wall being put up in front of you, hiding him away.

Would it be clingy to tell him to call more?

He was already so busy; how did he juggle you with his life? It seemed hard. At times you thought he was cheating on you but with how public he and you were… it was a fleeting thought. Did Tim even enjoy the time you two did have together?

You’d often question your relationship with the Wayne boy.

You questioned a lot of things. Some you’d question only later. Later when you awoke from the coma that… that monster put you in.

But before that... before any of that. “Catwomen got your tongue?” You’d giggle and poke the boy's shoulder. He was definitely upset today; you'd blame the lack of sleep- he blames your curiosity. “Hey, talk to me..?”

“I’m sorry, I’m kind of busy right now.” He frowned slapping your hand your touch away and you could only pout to hide the hurt in your chest.

.

.

The first time Tim held you hand your cheeks hurt from smiling.

.

.

The worst part of everything to Tim. He didn't even know if he did love you.

There was exactly ten times Tim wished he told you it. Once he did, mostly to get you off his back. Did that make him a horrible person?

He liked you. He liked how easy you were. He liked how you trusted him. He liked how you let him lie to you. He liked how your felt against him, how you would get up to get him another energy drink instead of nagging him about his health. Not that you weren't concerned about the amount of caffeine he consumed you had been clear you were...

He liked when he was a little more careless, having you against him while he typed away on his computer. You holding his drink for him, head on his shoulder, just tired enough to not see what he was really working on. he thought at least... He liked having you against him when he got back... When he saw you again he liked having you around. He enjoyed feeling you against him, your skin on his... Hold you close and just... feel. Feel your body heat against his when he'd get back from patrolling those cold Gotham nights. Rip that same old suit off and climb into bed, embrace that skin to skin contact he so easily grew addicted too.

It was a funny joke with Gothamites that Tim Drake, the son of Bruce Wayne was a coffee addict. Tim had an obsessive personality, so it wasn't out of character. Every post with him in it had a mug, which never helped with the so-called rumors.

As he scrolled on his phone, he didn't even notice the mugs slowly disappearing. Instead, you were on his arm in every photo... Huh...

He didn't know if he loved you. He probably never would anymore... He probably didn't. I mean, what kind of man scrolls on his phone while holding the hand of their supposed lover? Especially when you were hooked up to wires...

But, it hurt too look at you. See you in that state. Not knowing if you'd wake up. The ache in his chest... It lessened when he adverted his eyes and stared at his phone.

If his touch was the sun, you were the earth. If he was your sun, that meant he failed you. When the sun combusts, the earth will die, and the sun combusted, broke under the pleasure.

He should've been a better boyfriend...

If he was, he would have at least known what kind of flowers to bring you...

Roses... felt too basic. To... impersonal.

___________________________________________

A/N: I hate hate hate hate my writing! Bleh. This all felt tooooo flat.

[muiitoloko]

I looooved the daddy severus fanfic aaaaghhhh ❤️ but now can we have what he needed to do to have the baby lol

Breeding kink severus PLEASE!!! Xx

Title: A Second Chance

Summary: Surviving the war was only the beginning for Severus Snape. With your love, he learns to embrace life, finding comfort in the thought of a future that includes a family of his own.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: I'm so glad you loved the Daddy Severus fanfic! ❤️ And I couldn't resist your request, so I went ahead with the breeding kink idea—but decided to keep it light and wrote a completely new one-shot instead. Don't worry, it's more on the sweet side, nothing too kinky 😅. Hope you enjoy this one just as much! xx

Also read on Ao3

Severus Snape never imagined he would survive the war, let alone find himself married years after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. In truth, he hadn't even expected to live past the moment Nagini's fangs had torn into his throat. The pain had been excruciating, but it was fleeting—quickly overtaken by the cold, creeping numbness of death. He had welcomed it, that final escape from a life filled with darkness and deceit. Everything had gone black, and he thought that was the end.

But death had not come for Severus Snape that day. Instead, he had awoken to the sterile smell of potions and the clinical brightness of the Hogwarts infirmary, with Madam Pomfrey's stern face hovering above him, muttering incantations and administering salves to his ravaged neck. She had told him that the war was over, that Voldemort was defeated, and in those first few moments of lucidity, Snape had wanted nothing more than to slip back into unconsciousness. He had nothing left to live for, after all. But fate, as it often did, had other plans.

Snape had been in a coma for two long years—two years during which the wizarding world had moved on without him, during which he had been declared a hero by none other than Harry Potter, the boy he had once loathed. Potter, in his infinite idiocy, had come forward with memories—his memories—evidence that Snape had been working as a double agent, risking everything to protect the son of the woman he had loved more than life itself. It was Potter’s testimony that had spared Snape from Azkaban, and it was Potter who had ensured that he was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, and hailed as a hero in the aftermath of the war.

Snape thought bitterly of that fool of a boy now, sitting in the grand sitting room of one of the Prince family’s old mansions. The house had been passed down to him as the last living heir of the Prince family, a lineage he had long since stopped caring about. His mother’s bloodline had never brought him anything but misery, and yet here he was, a reluctant beneficiary of the wealth and status he had once despised. He rubbed the large scar on his neck, the mark left by Nagini’s fangs a constant reminder of how close he had come to death. It barely allowed him to speak without pain, a daily torment that was only mitigated by the potions and treatments he had to endure.

And that was where you came in.

You had been sent by St. Mungo’s on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, assigned to take care of Snape’s throat, which often swelled and caused him intense pain at random times. The venom of Nagini had remained in his bloodstream, a sinister reminder of the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. Snape hadn’t wanted you there. In those first few days, he had made every effort to drive you away, using every tactic at his disposal—scathing remarks, icy glares, and, when words failed him, the sheer force of his silent, menacing presence. But you hadn’t been intimidated. You had insisted on staying, refusing to leave despite his best efforts to scare you off. You were patient, determined, and unfailingly kind—qualities that Snape found both infuriating and, inexplicably, disarming.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things began to change between the two of you. Perhaps it was the day he had tried to intimidate you with a particularly venomous glare, only to find that you met his gaze with calm resolve, refusing to back down. He had pressed you against the wall in a fit of frustration, intending to finally break through that maddening composure, but instead, he had found himself kissing you—fiercely, desperately, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. That kiss had quickly turned into something more—something that left you both breathless and shaken, your bodies entwined in a feverish, almost primal need.

Months had passed since that first heated encounter, and somehow, through a series of events that still seemed surreal to him, Snape had found himself married to you. He looked down at the simple, yet elegant ring on his finger, a symbol of a life he had never imagined for himself. The ring was one he had chosen himself, purchased with the money he had saved over the years as a professor—years of putting up with those insufferable, brainless children. The irony of it all was not lost on him. Severus Snape, the cold, unyielding Potions Master, now had a wife, a home, and a life that was, in many ways, far more normal than he had ever thought possible.

He had thought he would hate it—the domesticity, the mundanity of it all. But as he sat in the quiet of the old manor, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, he realized that he didn’t hate it. Not at all. In fact, he found a strange sort of peace in it—a peace he hadn’t known in decades, if ever. It was a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, he had somehow found a place in this world—a place with you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see you entering the room, a soft smile on your face as you made your way over to him. You were dressed simply, yet elegantly, your presence filling the room with a warmth that he still wasn’t quite used to, but which he had come to cherish nonetheless.

“Severus,” you greeted him, your voice soft and soothing as you approached. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged slightly, the familiar discomfort in his throat a dull throb that he had long since learned to ignore. “As well as can be expected,” he replied, his voice low and rough, a result of the lingering effects of the venom.

You nodded, your expression one of understanding and quiet concern as you reached out to gently touch his hand, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of his wedding ring. “I’m glad,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his chest tighten. “You know, you don’t have to bear this burden alone. I’m here, Severus. I’ll always be here.”

He looked at you for a long moment, the weight of your words sinking in, filling the empty spaces in his heart that he had long thought would remain void. He had spent so many years alone, so many years building walls around himself to keep others out, that it still felt strange—unnatural, even—to have someone who cared about him, who wanted to share in his burdens.

But you were here, in his life, in his home, and he had somehow, against all odds, found himself falling for you in a way he hadn’t believed was possible. You had been a light in the darkness, a beacon that had guided him back to the land of the living when all he had wanted was to fade into oblivion.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion as he looked down at your hand in his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in a way that nothing else could. “And I’m… grateful.”

You smiled at that, a soft, genuine smile that lit up your entire face, and for a moment, Snape felt something stir within him—something that had been dormant for far too long. It was a warmth, a flicker of hope, of love, that he had thought he would never feel again.

Without another word, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with all the affection and tenderness that you had brought into his life. Snape closed his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the sensation, to savor the moment, the connection between you.

When you finally pulled back, you looked at him with a quiet intensity, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to understand the depth of what he was feeling. And in that moment, Snape realized that you did understand—that you knew him better than anyone ever had, perhaps even better than he knew himself.

“I love you, Sev,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “I always will.”

But Severus Snape had never been one for grand declarations, especially when it came to matters of the heart. The words I love you felt foreign on his tongue, weighed down by the years of pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. Instead, he preferred to convey his feelings through subtle gestures, through actions that spoke louder than words ever could.

And tonight, he intended to show you just how much you meant to him.

Without a word, Snape leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss, one that was slow and deliberate, full of a restrained passion that he had kept buried for far too long. His lips moved against yours with a careful intensity, as if he was savoring every moment, every sensation. His hand slid up to cup the back of your head, his long, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer to him.

You responded eagerly, your body leaning into his as the kiss grew more heated, more urgent. Snape’s other hand found its way to your waist, his grip firm but gentle as he guided you onto his lap, your dress rustling softly as you straddled him. The fabric of his dark robes brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body.

When he finally broke the kiss, his breathing was slightly uneven, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that you had rarely seen before. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat, his gaze piercing through you as if he was trying to convey all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Without breaking eye contact, Snape’s hands moved to the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the soft fabric as he slowly pushed it up, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs. He let out a low, almost inaudible groan as he felt the warmth of your body against his, the sight of you on his lap stirring something primal within him.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper as he traced the outline of your hips with his hands, his touch possessive yet reverent. It wasn’t quite I love you, but it carried the same weight, the same depth of emotion. It was his way of claiming you, of letting you know that you belonged to him in every sense of the word.

You shivered at his touch, your own hands moving to his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric of his robes. His grip on you tightened slightly as he pulled you even closer, pressing your body against his as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a clear indication of just how much he wanted you.

“Severus…” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of anticipation and desire as you felt his lips ghosting over your throat, leaving a trail of soft, heated kisses in their wake.

Snape didn’t respond with words. Instead, he let his actions speak for him, his hands slipping beneath your dress, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine before moving lower, cupping your ass and giving it a possessive squeeze. His lips found their way back to yours, capturing them in another deep, fervent kiss as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that his cock was perfectly aligned with your entrance, the heat of your arousal palpable through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Snape’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes boring into yours as he uttered a single, hoarse word: “Bedroom.” The command was rough, almost strangled, a reminder of the ever-present pain that laced his throat. You could see the discomfort etched into the lines of his face, a sharp pang of concern shooting through you. Was he okay? Was the pain too much for him? But before you could voice your worries, Snape dismissed them with a hard, determined look. He wasn’t going to let anything interrupt this moment.

In a swift, fluid motion, he lifted you into his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as you clung to him. His strength surprised you, the lean muscles beneath his robes belying the quiet power he possessed. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, straining through the fabric of his impeccably tailored trousers. The sensation sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, igniting a fire in your belly.

He moved with purpose, carrying you down the dimly lit hallway of the old manor, his long robes billowing around him like shadows. The silence between you was thick, charged with the unspoken desires that had been building between you for months. Snape’s grip on you was firm, possessive, his hands settling on the curve of your ass as he held you close. The tension in the air was palpable, the only sounds were the soft rustle of fabric and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

When he finally reached the bedroom, Snape pushed the door open with a gentle nudge of his foot, striding inside without hesitation. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. The bed—a grand, four-poster affair draped in rich, dark fabrics—stood at the center of the room, an inviting haven amidst the darkness.

Without breaking his stride, Snape crossed the room and laid you down on the bed, his movements careful but deliberate. The mattress dipped under your weight as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. He stood at the edge of the bed, his tall, lean figure imposing and commanding, his dark robes making him look every bit the cold, enigmatic man you had first met. But now, there was something more in his eyes—a burning need, a primal desire that he could no longer suppress.

Snape’s hands moved to the clasp of his robes, his fingers deftly undoing it before he shrugged off the heavy fabric, letting it pool on the floor at his feet. He remained silent, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to unbutton his shirt, each movement slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The pale, angular planes of his chest were revealed inch by inch, the faint scars and the dark trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers only adding to his rugged appeal.

Your mouth went dry as you watched him, your pulse quickening with each piece of clothing he shed. By the time he reached the waistband of his trousers, you were practically trembling with anticipation, your body aching with the need to feel him against you.

Snape didn’t rush. Instead, he paused, his fingers lingering on the waistband of his trousers as he looked down at you, his gaze dark and hungry. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, roughened by both his desire and the ever-present pain in his throat.

“I’m going to fill you,” he rasped, the words sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. His expression was one of pure, unbridled lust, his eyes locked on yours as he added, “I’m going to put a baby inside you.”

The raw, primal promise in his words left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as heat pooled between your thighs. You could feel the wetness gathering there, your body responding to his words in a way that was utterly instinctive. Snape’s eyes flickered with satisfaction as he noticed your reaction, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your ankle, pulling you toward the edge of the bed with a firm, steady grip. You let out a soft gasp as your back arched, your dress riding up higher, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. Snape’s hand slid up your calf, his touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through you as he pushed your dress up, revealing the lacy fabric of your underwear.

“Take it off,” he ordered, his voice hoarse but commanding, a dark edge to his tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed without hesitation, your hands trembling slightly as you reached down to slip the dress over your head. The fabric pooled on the floor beside the bed, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Snape’s gaze raked over your body, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of you.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, the word almost lost in the roughness of his voice. His hand moved to your hip, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear before slipping beneath the fabric. The feel of his hand against your bare skin sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your breath hitching as he caressed you with slow, deliberate strokes.

You moaned softly as his fingers found your wetness, your body arching into his touch. Snape’s gaze was fixed on yours, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. He moved his fingers with a practiced precision, teasing you with light, feathering touches that left you gasping for more.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as you looked up at him. “Yes, Severus, please.”

Snape’s smirk widened at your desperate plea, his hand leaving your core to grip your thigh, spreading your legs wider. He moved between them, his trousers slipping down to reveal his throbbing erection, the sight of it making your mouth water with desire.

He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip brushing against your wet folds as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. The sensation was electric, his lips moving against yours with a fierce, possessive hunger that left you dizzy. You could feel the tension coiling within him, the barely restrained need that pulsed through every inch of his body.

With a low growl, Snape pushed inside you, the thick length of him stretching you to the brink as he buried himself to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it as he filled you completely. You could feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the raw power in the way he moved.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, his thrusts deep and measured, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Snape’s gaze never wavered, his eyes locked on yours as he claimed you with every thrust, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive strength that left you breathless.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and strained as he drove into you with a primal, almost savage need. “Mine to fuck, mine to fill…mine to breed.”

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through you, your body tightening around him as you let out a low, breathy moan. Snape’s hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you against him with each thrust, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the intensity of the moment.

You could feel the heat building within you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. Snape’s name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he drove you closer to the edge.

Snape's breath was ragged as he buried himself inside you, his trousers bunched up around his ankles, trapped by the boots he hadn't bothered to remove. It didn’t matter to him—nothing mattered now except the primal, driving need to fill you, to claim you in the most profound and intimate way. His dark, greasy hair clung to his forehead as he hovered above you, his pale, angular face set in a mask of intense concentration and desire.

His thrusts were deep, deliberate, each movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge, to ensure that every inch of him was felt within you. His normally stoic expression was marred only slightly by the flicker of pain that crossed his features when he dared to speak. The venomous scars on his neck, the constant reminder of his near brush with death, flared in protest with every word. But his voice—deep, roughened by the damage to his throat—slipped out when he could no longer contain the twisted fantasies that had consumed him.

“Mine,” he rasped, the single word filled with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place as he thrust into you again, harder this time, his need taking over. “You’re mine.”

The room was filled with the sound of your bodies colliding, the soft crackling of the fire the only other noise breaking the silence. His boots scraped against the floor as he shifted, driving into you with a relentless pace that left no room for doubt about his intentions. The weight of his body pinned you beneath him, the full force of his need pressing down on you.

His mind was filled with images—visions of you swollen with his child, your body heavy with the life he’d put inside you. The thought only spurred him on, fueling the dark hunger that had taken root within him. He could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye—a little girl, with your beauty and his cunning, a powerful witch who would carry on the legacy he had never thought he would pass on.

“You’ll give me a daughter,” he whispered hoarsely, the words a struggle, each one tinged with the pain it caused him to speak. But he had to say it, had to let you know the depths of his desire. His fingers dug into your skin as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You’ll carry her, and she’ll be perfect…just like you.”

The idea of breeding you, of seeing you swollen with his child, made him almost desperate in his movements. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal precision that left you gasping, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to hold onto something as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

His breathing was labored, the strain of holding back the pain of speaking clear in the way his chest heaved, but he couldn’t stop now. His fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as he watched the effect it had on you, the way your body responded to him, the way you trembled beneath him. It was intoxicating, knowing that he had this power over you, that he could bring you to the brink of ecstasy with just a few well-placed touches.

“You’re going to be so beautiful,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “Round and full…carrying my child. My daughter.” His eyes were locked on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering as he thrust into you with a newfound urgency. “I’ll protect you…both of you…no one will ever hurt you.”

His words were rough, almost growled out between clenched teeth as the fire within him built to a fever pitch. He was close, so close, and he could feel you tightening around him, the telltale signs of your impending climax pushing him even further.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice low and commanding despite the strain. “I want to feel you…want to feel you fall apart around me.”

You were helpless to resist him, your body obeying his every command as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Your climax hit you hard, your entire body tensing as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Snape watched you, his gaze dark and intense, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you with a final, powerful thrust.

He could feel you convulsing around him, the tight, wet heat of your climax pulling him over the edge with you. He let out a low, guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside you, his release flooding you with a heat that seemed to burn through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the crackling of the fire, and the faint rustle of the sheets as Snape remained still above you, his chest rising and falling with the effort of catching his breath. His dark hair fell forward, obscuring his face as he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips rough and warm against your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispered one final time, his voice barely more than a breath. “And you’ll give me everything.”

His words hung in the air, a promise, a vow, as he slowly pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness almost jarring after the intensity of what had just passed between you. He laid down beside you, pulling you close to his chest, his long fingers tangling in your hair as he held you tightly, as if afraid to let you go.

In the silence that followed, Snape closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. But even as sleep began to take him, the thought of you carrying his child—his daughter—brought a small, almost imperceptible smile to his lips.

For the first time in years, Severus Snape allowed himself to hope for the future.

After the intensity of your shared moment had begun to settle, you found yourself recovering faster than Severus, whose chest still heaved as he fought to catch his breath. His dark eyes were closed, his pale face flushed with the remnants of passion, and his hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. For a brief moment, you simply watched him, your heart swelling with a deep, unspoken affection. It was in these quiet moments, after the storm of his desire had passed, that you felt closest to him—that you saw the man behind the formidable exterior, vulnerable and human.

You moved gently, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the scarred skin of his neck, your lips lingering just above the spot where Nagini's fangs had once pierced him. His eyes fluttered open at the sensation, and he looked down at you with a mixture of exhaustion and something that might have been tenderness, though he would never admit it aloud. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he might protest your ministrations, but you silenced him with a look, your eyes conveying a wordless command.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, your voice soft yet firm as you began to reach down, your hands deftly unfastening the boots that had remained stubbornly on his feet. Snape tried to protest, his brows knitting together in irritation at the thought of you taking care of him, but the protest died on his lips when you fixed him with a pointed stare.

“Be quiet, Severus,” you instructed gently, though there was no mistaking the steel behind your words. “Let me do this.”

For once, he complied, his lips pressing into a thin line as he allowed you to help him. It was an act of trust, a rare thing for him, and you didn’t take it lightly. You removed his boots with care, followed by the trousers that had bunched awkwardly around his ankles, your fingers brushing against his skin as you worked. Despite the lingering heat between you, your touch was tender, almost reverent, as you undressed him, revealing the lean, angular planes of his body that were usually hidden beneath his dark, forbidding robes.

When you were finished, you summoned your wand with a simple flick of your wrist, casting a quiet cleaning charm over the two of you. The warm, tingling sensation of the magic swept away the remnants of your passion, leaving you both feeling refreshed, though the intimate connection between you remained unbroken.

You returned to his side, snuggling against him with a contented sigh, your head resting on his chest as you traced lazy patterns on his skin with your fingertips. Snape’s arm wrapped around you almost instinctively, his long fingers threading through your hair as he held you close. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, a soothing rhythm that calmed your own.

Lifting your head slightly, you rested your chin on his chest, your eyes meeting his with a mischievous glint. “At this rate, we’ll have a baby soon,” you remarked with a teasing smile, your tone light despite the weight of your words. “You’ve practically made love to me every day since I mentioned you’d be a great father.”

A faint flush colored Snape’s cheeks, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you couldn’t be sure. His gaze flickered with a mix of emotions—desire, uncertainty, and something deeper, something almost fragile. You knew that the idea of fatherhood had taken root in his mind, had sparked a longing that he hadn’t fully realized until you had voiced it aloud.

“It… seems to have stuck in my head,” he admitted gruffly, his voice low and rough as he avoided your gaze, his fingers still gently tangled in your hair. “The idea of… breeding you, of putting babies inside you… it… it turns me on to no end.”

There was a vulnerability in his admission, a raw honesty that was rare for him, and it made your heart ache with affection for the man who had always kept his true self hidden beneath layers of cold detachment. You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing lightly over the scar on his neck as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Severus,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “And I’d be honored to carry your child… our child.”

Snape’s breath hitched at your words, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to find the truth in them. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent. “You… would?”

You nodded, your smile widening as you rested your forehead against his, your heart swelling with love for the man who had once believed himself incapable of it. “Of course. There’s no one else I’d want to share this with… no one else I’d trust with this.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of Snape’s lips, and he let out a shaky breath as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a possessive tenderness that spoke volumes. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope—not just for the future, but for a future with you, a future where he could be the man, the husband, and the father he had never believed he could be.

As you lay together in the quiet of the old manor, the fire in the hearth casting a warm glow over your entwined bodies, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, you had found each other. And as Snape’s hand drifted to rest on your abdomen, his fingers splayed over your skin in a gesture that was both protective and tender, you knew that the love you shared would be enough to carry you through whatever came next.

[screechingdefendorpuppy-blog]

My Dearest Sevika…

You carefully step out of your steaming shower grabbing your towel to dry yourself. Sighing gratefully at the hot shower you just finished. It has been three weeks since Sevika was found since she came back.

One week since the doctors had taken Sevika off of the medical induced coma. Still she has not woken up. The doctor informed you that it was normal, To be expected cuz of the extent of her injuries.

Even tho she is yet to awaken you hadn’t left her side. Unless it was necessary for instance to sleep/rest, eat something that wasnt from the hospital cafeteria, and bathe. The first few day you had refuse to leave her but with ran promising to stay there and that she would call uou if anything happened you relented. Off you went to take care of your needs and your pups as well.

The day you had gone to the hospital to see Sevika, Buck had become worried and anxious for his momma. To the point that when Ran had gone back to her car to tend to him, he ended up taking off rushing to find you. Eventually he did after bringing chaos to adults and joy to children he encountered in the halls.

It had taken a lot of apologies and some bribery from Ran to get the medical staff to agree to let him stay there. Since then he had been allowed to stay with you coming and going right along as long as he was on a leash.

Turning and opening the door you halt as you come face to face with buck as he lays infront of the door. Chuckling you bend down and pat him on the head. “Oh buddy, were you guarding me while I showered?”

He take a big sigh as if keeping guard was his toughest job in the world. You give him a smooch before standing and heading towards your closet to get ready to head over to the hospital. It doesn’t take you long, and soon you are grabbing your bag, keys and bucks leash to head out.

You stop after fastening the leash to bucks vest. “Be right back.” You tell him and head towards the master bedroom once more. You hurry over to your bedside table and grab your journal and place it inside your bag. You head back to the front door finding Buck sitting there waiting patiently.

“Ok im ready now. Let go.” You tell him as you grab the leash once more. He barks once as if saying “finally!” And take off to the hospital.

———————

Parking your car in what has unofficially become your spot. You easily unfasten your seat belt and get out of the car. Going to the passenger side door you open it to let Buck out.

“Ok buddy, lets go see mama. Now if you behave and not growl at the nurse that checks on mamas vitals I will let you go to the kids ward for a bit ok?”

He sneezes indignantly at you. You sigh as you lock the car. “I know she is rude and smells like a hoard of cats, but you have to be nice. She is helping with mama’s care.” In response you get a big yawn from him.

“I take that as a yes.” You say and start walking towards the entrance.

———————

“Morning.” You greet as you open the door to Sevikas room. Ran startles a bit from her book. “Oh Morning.” She clears her throat as a pink tint rises to her cheeks and ears. You narrow your eyes a bit at her reaction and then smirk as you get a glance at the book in her hands.

“Seriously Ran? Smutty Romance in a hospital?” You chuckle.

“It’s a slowburn!” She says as if its a valid excuse. Buck prances over to greet her. You raise an eyebrow at her.

“Give me a break, nights are tough.” She groans. You watch as she gets up from the chair and rubs her back and take pity on her.

Slowly walking towards Sevikas side you off handedly reply. “Wait till you get to chapter 55.”

You only get a gasp from her and you chuckle. You turn to Sevika and brush the hair out of her eyes as you whisper a greeting to her.

“Any changes?” You ask Ran as buck comes to your side so you can unfasten the leash since you were in the room. He takes his rightful spot next to your chair.

“Nope, this bitch is taking her sweet time to wake up.” Ran says making you glare at her at her wording. But a small smile breaks at the corner of your lips. After 3 tours together Ran and Sevika were more like sisters than those that were blood related.

“Go home Ran, you look like shit.” You tell her as you take your seat.

“Wooooooow thats the thanks I get for taking the night shift huh.”

You look at here eyebrows raised as you take a glance at her body up and down. “Hun you are sporting racoon eyes.”

“For your information its smoky eye shadow.” She shoots back all sass no bite. “Anyways I’ll be back later tonight.”

“Don’t forget your smut.” You say as you pull out your journal and pen. You hear some grumbling and steps. “Love you too dummy” she says with kiss to the crown on your head and she leaves. Leaving you to the silence and peace of the room.

——————

A couple of hours later you stand up and groan as you stretch. You look down at Buck and make eye contact with him. “Lets go out for a walk buddy.” He immediately gets up and goes towards the door as you go towards Sevikas bed side

“Sevi, I’ll be back soon. Our son needs a potty break and a visit to his besties over on pediatrics.” You tell her, placing a kiss to her temple. Walking towards the door and Buck you fasten the leash.

“Ok lets go buddy.” You open the door and slowly close it behind you.

Sevikas eyes flutter open…

Authors note: Posting Two days in a row? Whaaaaaaa lol I was getting a bit impatient with myself and wanted to finally wake sevika up. Next installment will take a bit tho cuz im starting to get swamped with work and school so gotta focus on those.

Also I have to confess idk much about ran except what I have read in other fics. I apologize if I get anything wrong on her character.

[alkalineapparition]

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König x Reader | Full Chapter

Part 19- You can thread the needle, time and time again

König POV 

At this, König stills.  

Shock. Then fury—frigid and sharp. His fists clench as he fights to hold it in, his body going rigid. A statue. Waiting, unbreathing, for you to continue.

For a long while, you say nothing. Still picking at the damned sheets, eyes unfocused. He clears his throat. You jump.

"Explain." His voice is stiff, strained with barely concealed rage.

"I... I don't know where to start," you admit, chewing your lip beneath the mask.

König forces himself to be patient. "Start from the beginning, yes?"

You inhale deeply, exhaling slow. Shoulders straightening, still looking at the floor. Still refusing to meet his eyes.

"I joined the Army when I was eighteen years old." 

Not quite the beginning he meant, but he does not interrupt. He will not miss a chance to hear about the thing you so rarely speak of—yourself.

"I didn't... I didn't necessarily want to. But I didn't really have any other options. My home life, it wasn't... the best."

Your face twists with something dark. He doesn’t press— knows better, though a pit forms in his stomach.

"Anyway, I figured I'd join, maybe be assigned a desk job or work in the mess hall doing food prep," a bitter laugh slips out.

"I did get a desk job; communications. And I loved it. For a while." 

Silence again. 

"Why the Green Berets, then?" 

A little smile, still tinged with that acrid aftertaste. "I wanted to do more," you mumur, so softly he almost misses it.

"The Green Berets, they do the most humanitarian work out of any of the United States armed forces. Did you know that?"

He shakes his head, equally quiet. "No, I did not." 

"I felt like a coward, hiding behind the desk. I didn't want to join, I had to. It was... almost a compulsion. Couldn't imagine doing anything else." You shake your head. 

"I was young and stupid. I hated getting up early. Hated being yelled at. Hated exercise. Still can't understand what I was thinking..." you trail off.

"But it was something I had to do. And I did— I was the youngest female Green Beret to ever graduate." There’s something like pride in your voice.

"I was promoted to Sergeant. Still working comms, but in the field this time." 

You swallow. Your next words snag, a loose thread caught on jagged metal. 

"It was near the end of my first contract, when my squadron was ordered to preform an exfiltration in Al Mazrah. A local group had captured some high ranking-personnel from a multinational spec ops unit." 

It clicks into place before you finish. The undeaniable truth of who exactly you had been sent after. 

König says nothing. 

"It went well at first. Almost textbook. We grabbed the target, were on our way out. He was beat to shit, so I was practically carrying him. Then... then all hell broke loose."

Finally, you look at him, eyes haunted— decaying.

"There was a grenade," the words are whispered, anguished.

Dear God.

"I... I laid on top of the target. Didn't have time to run."

You are pleading with him now. Begging him to understand. 

The room is silent but for your ragged breathing. Tears threaten your lash line, the ache in them evident as you choke, "My team didn't make it." 

The sight of your tears nearly undoes him. This quiet devastation is somehow worse than the mournful wailing from that night outside the medical wing. It rips through him, as your pain always does.

Before he can stop himself, König grasps your hand, threading his fingers with yours. 

He squeezes. His gaze never wavers.

You take a shaky breath, steadying yourself. 

"I don't remember getting up or dragging us out, but I must have. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in the hospital, feeling like shit warmed over." 

"I was medically dead, you know. Five whole minutes. In a coma for nearly a month." 

Silence reigns again. And König wonders how the fuck you are still here.

You fidget, waiting for him to speak.

"What happened next?" 

Your eyebrows raise, clearly not expecting such interest in the after. 

"Got honorably discharged, started recovery. It was shit."

The dry tone of your voice forces a a low laugh from him. 

"And how did you end up here?" 

"KorTac didn't take long to reach out. Funded my recovery under the condition I sign a contract after."

It is his turn to raise his eyebrows. Since when did KorTac take an interest in wounded soldiers? His confusion must be evident, since you shrug.

"Don't know why. But I sure as hell wasn't turning down the chance to walk again." 

The horror at your statement must also be plain on his face, because you let out a biting laugh. 

"You think the VA gave a fuck if I walked again? They wanted to stick me in a wheel chair to rot." 

It makes him sick. The thought of you—prideful, so independent—withering away in an underfunded hospital. Alone. Forgotten.

König swallows against the ache it brings, reaching for the right words—for something, anything, that might stitch back the wounds you just tore open for him to see.

"It's how I got these, you know." Your voice is conversational, almost hollow, as your fingers trace the scars eclipsing your chest and arm.

"You must think I'm horribly stupid."

He does not miss the forced humor in your voice. Nor does he miss the quiet search beneath it—the search for his damnation, his approval, something.

"I think," he begins, his free hand trailing up your arm, fingers ghosting over skin before settling at your shoulder, "that you are brave."

He holds you like something fragile, like fractured glass. Despite the strength beneath his hand, he finds you delicate. Precious.

You look up at him, startled. "I think," his voice is little more than a whisper, "you are horribly selfless."

König wishes to believe the sudden, unsteady catch in your breath is a mirror of his own feelings, but knows it is not. He stomps his down, determined to right the lense through which you view yourself, if nothing else.

"I think you are so very kind, Taube, but unable see past yourself. Please do not think I would ever consider you less than, for being courageous." He searches your eyes. 

Something unnamed passes through them, soft and warm, vulnerable. It makes his heart stutter in his chest. 

 

He wants to kiss you.

 

The thought is errant, but cutting. König jerks back before he can act on it. 

Scheiße.

Clearing his throat, he allows his hand to fall from your shoulder. 

"And you are not the only one with scars, Atlas." 

He looks back to you, but you look suspiciously unsurprised. "Is that why you wear it?" Your chin tilts towards his face, an obvious reference to the mask.

The question is curious, no judgement in your voice. He nods, absentmindedly brushing his fingers across his mouth. 

"Ja. I learned early that others do not take kindly to those who appear different." He pauses. "Children are cruel." 

You frown. "Yes, they are. They're also ignorant." You look down, and before he can stop, König finds himself marveling at the shadows your lashes cast against your cheek, fluttering as you search for words.

"I bet you're beautiful under that hood anyway." 

 

His breathing stops.

 

Barely able to choke out the words, he mutters, "I assure you, I am not."

You hum, unconvinced. "Whatever you say." 

His eye twitches, desperate to change the topic. "Will you be able to work with Price?" 

Cutting him a look that could peel paint from the walls, you nod once. Sharp and decisive.

"Yes. It just... caught me off guard, is all. If I had known it wouldn't have been like that. I swear, I'm fine." König hears what you do not say. How it is less about the Captain and more about the remnants of your past.

About never being able to escape it entirely, no matter how far you run.

[aayakashii]

32 🔪 and 25🔪 for Jiro? I can't really see him calling someone pet names but I can see him mistaking obsessive feelings for scholar curiosity and maybe borderline stalking.

25🔪 “I know everything about you.”

32 🔪 “I’ve always been watching you, beloved”

Warning: yandere behavior, nsfw, masturbation

Jiro could see you with his eyes closed. Much like when you ask someone to picture an apple, in order to diagnose their level of aphantasia, if anyone asked him to close his eyes and picture anything to a level of near-perfection, he would picture you.

He knew every single detail of you. He kept notes on it, in fact. Notebooks upon notebooks of information about you. A stack of paper way thicker than your official patient file, because he included information that definitely did not need to be used when going through an anamnesis.

Sure, he duly noted the usual data. He knew about your health history, your family’s health history, your past medical records, your personal information and every symptom you may have ever had during his care. But hey, that’s to be expected - he was making daily check-ups on you after all.

However, he also knew which drinks you’d buy on a daily basis, your favorite little snacks and how often you’d bite your nails.

He knew how much caffeine you ingested everyday, the way you sighed loudly when you were tired and how you flipped your hair when you were annoyed.

He knew you hummed when you showered, he knew you mumbled when you slept and he knew the placement of every little mole and scar on your body.

Jiro knew everything about you. And a forgotten, mostly silent part of himself felt a bubbling pride over being the only one who could claim that.

He didn’t know who he was before his coma. He lost most memories and unlearned how to feel. Others would call him a mere husk of a human being, something incomplete, and Yuri seemed to find this greatly insulting; Jiro, however, would only blink. He didn’t know what it was to be or not to be human. What made anyone more human than the others, after all? Philosophy became much more of a hassle to understand after he woke up after all those months being half-dead.

But he knew that, amidst the muddled haze of emotions and thoughts, he had one purpose in that new life of his, besides being a doctor’s assistant - and that was to watch you. Something deep in his gut pushed him towards you.

His eyes would follow you everywhere and his feet would take him to your room. He rummaged through your things, analyzed your habits, and read your notes and diaries. He knew he should feel shame over invading your privacy, but there was none (or so he murmured to himself as he rubbed his own face, wiping off a smirk from his lips).

Jiro read all about your fear of mutating into something unknown and that, actually, he could understand. He wouldn’t be able to observe you if you became an anomaly, after all. He needed to find a way to keep you as you are.

He would also go through that one hidden basket, filled with your dirty clothes. He’d always grab one of your shorts and smell it like an addict and something inside him would stir. It was very interesting, he thought, how a rush of blood could feel so pleasant. His hurried hands would push his pants down until his cock was freed, and he would smell you again, wrapping his hand around his length, throwing his head back until breathy moans slipped from his lips. It was good, it felt so good to thrust against his own hand as he suffocated himself with the scent of you. It felt so good, so so good to drench your floorboards with his cum, to mark his presence in your room with stains you’d never see. It felt so good to know you’d sleep with him, in a way.

Gasping for breath, he would watch through the window as you walked in the distance, tired and crestfallen, towards your dorm.

It was always the same thing, everyday. Everyday at 5PM, he’d put everything back in place and slip away, unnoticed, with more of you in his mind - more to write down on his notes.

And the next day, it would be the same thing, all over again. And the next, and the next, and the next.

Yuri and him needed to work harder, he mused. He needed to keep up with his routine.

He has been and would always be watching you, after all, in spite of death.

Full masterlist

[j0kers-light]

Hi Chaos! I have an idea for a headcanon format! So basically Joker gets severely injured and gets put on strict bed rest for several weeks, maybe even well past a month. For once he's not complaining, it's literally one of the worst pains he's ever experienced in his life. He gets put on pain meds which make him pretty loopy. Y/n gets a good laugh out of this. She basically has to become a full time nurse for the time being and takes care of him diligently. Poor J can't even tease her, he's so tired.

Would love to see your take on this!

Hey hi my love! Not you lowkey calling me out anon 🤣

Chaos been out for a month going on two, medicated to the uttermost because who knew a wrist could hurt so bad? Anyhoo!! aight let’s make this request happen. I so can relate to this 🖤✨

I hope you enjoy, I typed this out at 5am half asleep so if there’s any errors haha, no there isn’t! I am resting my hand I swear 👀😣 thank you so much for sending this hc request anon 😘

Joker knew the shady explosives deal wouldn’t end well but he didn’t expect jumping from a building to escape it. The fall looked survivable. It beat getting blown to pieces. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Eh, he’d been in worser situations so he jumped. And instantly regretted it.

Sarai just about fainted when he was brought to her half alive.

Broken ribs, a fractured ego, one broken leg and a big toe, and let’s not forget about the head trauma… she never seen Joker in such a shape. Minus the head injury. That’s normal. 👀

Everyone thought the worst when J didn’t wake up and they were terrified about informing you. Soooooo they didn’t. 🫣🫣

You found out that Joker almost died after Frost brought you to the safe house once J was stable. Mind you this was three days after the big boom boom. 

Safe to say you were distraught asking a million and one questions.

Like who jumps out of a building with no parachute? How did he survive? Will J wake up anytime soon? What if he's stuck in a coma forever!?

Joker being the dramatic man that he is, hears your voice and wakes up. You’re the first thing he sees and everyone is anxious to see his reaction.

Joker wondered how he landed in heaven after all he’s done. That’s the only explanation to the beauty standing by his side bathed in sunlight. He doesn’t care that he’s staring, you are a vision.

“Wow I uh, got my own angel.. hm. I thought you’d have wings or somethin’.” He mumbled as an afterthought.

Why are you not surprised by his comment? Of course Joker thinks he’s seeing angels, he almost died. You brush off his flattery and lean closer to ask how he feels, but he beats you to it.

He could stare at you all day if not for his many injuries stealing his attention. You’ve known Joker long enough to know his pain threshold is insane, so you’re deeply disturbed when J tears up with a genuine “ow.” 

His wittle bottom lip even wobbles!! Ya boy is in pain.

And it only gets worse. Each hour Sarai increases the medication dosage until Joker is quite literally a drooling mess. It’s. Not. Intentional.

If you could avoid reducing his temporary state to that of an Arkham Asylum patient you would, but seeing Joker of all people begging for relief, it tugged at your heartstrings. You couldn’t let him suffer like that.

Joker felt all 10+ stories plus years of unrelated injuries resurfacing all at once.

He deserves this high despite the side effects. He hates how heavy his body feels and the delayed reaction his brain has while trying to create sentences. How can he run a gang if he forgot what he said two minutes ago?

It’s either endure the agonizing pain or take a blow to his reputation. Joker chose the latter.

No one knows he’s out for the season expect his inner circle. Sarai orders a strict recovery plan that Joker will follow or she’ll break his other leg. Not like he can threaten her back.

He can’t think straight, he can't walk or feed himself, nothing is normal!! As a loving girlfriend, (since when did we put labels on our relationship) you volunteer to be Joker's full time nurse. 

Joker is too medicated to tease you or complain. All he knows is that an angel is going to take care of him. How did he get so lucky?

Frost helped move Joker to your apartment before leaving you with a “call if you need anything” stare. For once you might actual listen to the guy..

The first week is easy. Joker is too out of it to even acknowledge anything so it’s like taking care of a baby. That's high.

You feed J, you stimulate his brain with light conversation per Sarai’s detailed instructions and you let J sleep hours on end to recover. He's never slept so much in his entire life.

Joker is on indefinite bedrest so yay to catheters but you still wait on him hand and foot because he's the sweetest while medicated!

J smiles at you like a boy would to his first crush and whispers a hushed, “I don’t deserve ya, that’s makes me wanT ya even morrrrre.”

It’s romantic if not for the fact his leg is hanging from the ceiling in a cast and he won't remember anything come tomorrow. Poor little clown. That baby ain't moving no time soon.

That doesn’t stop him from reaching out to grab you when you try (emphasis on try) to leave the room. “No! No, d-don’t go..” and if not for your quick reflexes, Joker would have tumbled clean off the bed. Do. Not. Laugh....

“I’m not going anywhere J, I promise. Don’t you want dinner?” You fail at laughing. Your big scary boyfriend is literally clinging to you. 

It’s gotta be the drugs. You know J is clingy but.. this is Vine worthy content!

His emerald eyes are all glazed over with meds and tears. “Don’t want it, just want you.” 

You love medicated!Joker! Too bad it only last a week.

Sarai slowly began winging J off the painkillers and you immediately see a shift in his demeanor. Clingy high Joker is now exhausted and sassy J. You celebrate this improvement with a sponge bath but Joker is grateful for nurse!Y/n a bit too much for your liking.

“For the love of.... I broke my leg, Y/n! My other leg works just fine.” His knowing smirk should not make you hot all over but it does.

“Joker. You are bedridden.” you remind him.

“Tsk, at this rate.. nothing is getting ridden in this bed,” he shook his head, "can't uh re-ward, my hot nurse 'm so tired." Joker sighed and missed your shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

This was gonna be the longest case of blue balls ever.

[itsgrimeytime]

my series masterlist \\

oneshots, blurbs

PROCESS TAGS:

⏹️ - discontinued

⏸️ - on a break

▶️ - in progress

⏪️ - being rewritten

✅️ - complete

CONTENT TAGS:

😳 - smut

🫣 - suggestive

💞 - fluff

⛈️ - angst

Home is Where the Heart is || ▶️ (💞, ⛈️)

'Your life was spinning out of control, you knew that. After a string of particularly shattering events, you decided it was time to start anew. With a little help from one of your Grandma's rentals, you found yourself in the small town of Alexandria. The last thing you expected was your neighbor, Rick Grimes.'

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10... [[IN PROGRESS]]

Available on Ao3

i found a home in you || ▶️ (💞, ⛈️)

[SPN + TWD Crossover]

'At the start of the apocalypse (one of many you'd been a part of), you and your brothers got separated. So, you roamed the new world on your own, searching for them. You just knew they were alive, so you kept yourself alive too. That and looking for them were your main priorities. Well, until you run into a group and meet a man you can't quite get out of your head.'

Part 1... [[IN PROGRESS]]

Available on Ao3

Magnolia in May || ▶️ (💞, ⛈️)

'Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.'

Part 1-20, 21-30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35... [[IN PROGRESS]]

Available on Ao3

The Lover || ▶️ (💞, ⛈️)

'A long time ago, you were Rick Grimes's nurse. Now, you loved him, and he loved you. Or at least that's where you left it off. With Judith safe in your arms and Rick distinctly not by your side, you could only hope his feelings stayed the same because they sure as hell did for you.' (SEQUEL to The Nurse)

Part 1, 2...

Available on Ao3

COMPLETED:

drunk on you || ✅️ (💞, ⛈️)

'You'd known Rick forever, as far back as freshman year. He was a guy you (if you were honest) had a crush on; there was just something in his stance and the low drawl of his voice. You'd say that feeling only got worse from there. Before you could blink, he was married and had a kid; and suddenly, despite your best efforts, you felt very out of place. You faded out of his life, and he yours. So when Rick shows up at your door (drunk out of his mind) about 5 years after the last time you spoke to him, you have a lot of questions.'

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, epilogue

Available on Ao3

Maneater || ✅️ (⛈️,💞)

'You and Rick Grimes had a backstory, one no one knew except you and him. It's one you refused to share, you never really wanted to get into it. All anyone needed to know was you hated the man. When you're in a rough spot, and you could use the shelter the question is... does he hate you?'

Part 1, 2, 3, epilogue

Available on Ao3

The Nurse || ✅️ (💞,⛈️)

'Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.'

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

Available on Ao3

All reblogs and comments are appreciated!! Feel free to send an ask or comment to get on any taglist :)

[thatboreddrake]

"I accept that there will be those who I cannot save."

When I first read those words on a wiki page for the Stormlight Archives, I assumed they would pertain to learning that it's okay to kill your enemies. That Kaladin would be taught a lesson on how some people will choose to place themselves outside of your ability to protect them, and that that is not your fault. People like Moash, who continue to make themselves a threat to the other people he had sworn to protect.

And I was fine with that understanding, at least at first. It's a natural counterpoint to Lirin's perspective that "you cannot save lives by taking lives." I was interested to see how Sanderson explored it, as this is a concept that I have struggled to accept for myself. I even thought it could be an interesting foil to the Third Ideal: "I will protect those I hate, so long as it is right." But then I read Oathbringer. I saw the Battle of Kholinar, where Kaladin is broken by the realization that the people on either side are just that: people. Here there are two different groups who he feels honor-bound to protect, and they're killing each other.

It is no wonder that these events broke him, driving him to where he is by the start of Rhythm of War. When Kaladin failed to swear the Fourth Ideal in Shadesmar, during the Battle of Thaylen Field, I was excited to see how he would grapple with that reality. Sanderson did not disappoint, tho he delivered in a way that I did not expect.

Kaladin, under orders, steps back from the front lines. He puts down the spear. He returns to his training as a surgeon. He invents the concept of group therapy to help others who were suffering from battle shock, like him. He learns that there is more than one way to protect people. And he seems to be making progress, if slowly, to recovering from his failures in Oathbringer.

This all comes crashing down when Raboniel and her forces invade Urithiru. Kaladin is left feeling powerless. He has to hide to survive. He repeatedly fails to protect the Sibling against the assaults of the Fused. All he can manage is to keep Teft from being taken captive, nursing him through his coma. Now, more than ever, he feels that he is a failure at doing the one thing he has sworn to do: protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Then Wit comes along, with the story of the Dog who Wished to Become a Dragon. He shows Kaladin that, even if your goal is fundamentally unachievable, good results can still come from your efforts. That it is the Journey that matters, even if you never reach your Destination.

Kaladin is bolstered. He marches out to face the Fused one final time: a last stand. Do or die. And he is winning. In spite of it all, he finds that he can still protect others. But its a lie. He knows its a lie. In his own thoughts, he is pretending to be Kaladin Stormblessed, one last time.

When Vyre arrives and slaughters Teft, what little scaffolding Kaladin had left is kicked out from under him. Teft, the one person he felt he could genuinely help during the occupation, lying on the ground with his eyes burned out.

This is why I believe the way in which Kaladin achieves the Fourth Ideal is so much more impactful than I ever imagined it would be. Because it's not some simple lesson about how "you need to learn that its okay to kill/not save people if they aren't on your side." It's not a question of morality or honor at all, really.

It's an exercise in futility.

What has broken Kaladin is the fact that, no matter how hard he tries to protect people, they always end up dying. He feels that his efforts were wasted. Yet he forgets the countless moments allowed to those he saved, even if he only delayed their death. He forgets Dabbid, who would have bled out on the Shattered Plains were it not for Kaladin's intervention. He forgets the battle-shock patients who saw the sun again because of his efforts.

In the end, it's not about whether we die or not, because that is the inevitable end to every life. But Life comes before Death. Death may be the ultimate Destination, but every step towards it makes up the wonderful Journey of Life.

And so Kaladin is reminded: there will be those who you cannot save. There will be those who you cannot keep alive, no matter what you do. So instead of mourning their deaths as a failure, he learns to celebrate the times they had together. It's all about cherishing the moments that we have, and not allowing the end to sour those happy memories.

As Dr. Seuss once wrote, "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."

Life before Death, friends. Journey before Destination.

[yournaothings]

Living the Dream

Chapter Two

(Hee~ @cactobutt made this~ From Right to Left! Felix, Kai, Atara(hasn't appeared in the story yet), and Lily. <3)

Hello! Hi! Welcome to Chapter two! Listen! I need to share a few things with you guys!

@runaway-dream-au (I love this so much, and it was part of my inspiration for "Living the Dream"! Check out their blog!)

@emeraldhazeidentity (You guys love a good Dream x reader story? Their story, "Solace" is amazing! Another amazing author who gave me inspiration to write a Dream x reader story!)

Also, @bored-animator here is Chapter two! :)

This is a little longer than the first chapter; I will have a shorter version of what was talked about in this chapter. I wouldn't be surprised if it gets boring.

This is a long chapter. We see a little bit of Dream's depression, they talk about the young lady who is stuck in a coma. Also! Blue and Ink find out that Dream is missing!

As for Nightmare? Nothing out of the ordinary. He's not worried.

Or is he?

Characters and their Creators: Killer Sans: Rahafwabas Dust Sans: Ask-Dusttale Horror Sans: Sour-Apple-Studios Nightmare Sans: Jokublog XTale Sans(Cross): Jael Peñaloza/Jakei

Ink Sans: Comyet Underswap Sans (Blue): popcornpr1nce Dream Sans: Jokublog Fresh Sans : Crayon Queen Core!Frisk: DokuDoki (Did I miss anyone??)

((I stayed up till 5am finishing this chapter, so if there are mistakes, please forgive me. D: ))

!! Another thing! Down in the End Notes, I'll have a short description of most of the chapter there. In case it's boring, which... I hope it's not. <.<

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

Celestial Market didn’t see many customers today. The heavy rain poured down on the city, the sound of thunder and flashes of lightning kept people away for most of the morning and early noon. There wasn’t a lot to do, Dream and Kai had already stocked most of the shelves after the latest shipment. Maria was finishing up her paperwork in her office. Lily and Kai had already left for their other jobs, leaving Dream and Maria to tend the shop. The radio played softly in the background, set on a station that played a mixture of oldies and today’s favorites. Dream didn’t recognize them, but that didn’t stop Dream from enjoying most of the songs. 

Maria stepped out of her office and glanced around the small shop and found there to be no customers. She glanced down at her wrist watch and sighed softly; there was no point in staying open much longer. She knew the rain alone would keep anyone from stopping by, so she called it. “I think we’ll close up early today, Dream.” She called out to him while walking towards the door to lock it and flipped the open sign around so it read ‘closed’.  She wandered back in to begin shutting everything down and counting the money. While she tended to the register, Dream began working on cleaning up the place, sweeping and mopping and taking out the trash. 

He finished up his chores before grabbing his jacket and slipping it over his shoulders, his hood coming up to cover his head. He waited patiently for Maria to finish her chores, she switched off the lights and grabbed her keys; her own jacket was pulled on over herself as she met Dream by the exit. She made sure the door was locked after they stepped out, Dream waiting to make sure she would be safe, before he would leave for home. 

Maria sighed gently, relieved the work day ended a bit earlier than usual. She turned and smiled at Dream. “Would you like to join me for some coffee?” Dream looked at her in surprise, he wasn’t expecting this, but he wouldn’t mind.  “I would love to. I don’t have anything better to do.” He told her truthfully. “Wonderful!” She led him to her car, parked on the other side of the street. Dream felt bad for climbing into the vehicle while soaking wet, but it couldn’t be helped. Maria started the car and quickly turned the heat on so they wouldn’t start to freeze. “It’s not too far, and I can drop you off at your apartment after, if you’d like.” She told him as she pulled out onto the street and started for the coffee shop. “That…” He trailed off, not wanting to be a bother, but knew she wouldn’t have offered if it was a bother. 

He knew this because it’s already happened. She had offered to drive him home after a rather exhausting day at work and she had noticed how tired he was. He had declined at first, but she insisted. 

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I know you’re just as tired-” 

“Dream, I wouldn’t have offered it to you if it was a problem.” She told him with a smile. “Between the two of us, you live further away from the shop than I do.” 

Dream knew he wasn’t going to win and accepted her offer with a smile. 

“That would be nice, actually.” He replied honestly.  “Thank you.” Maria smiled victoriously, glad that Dream was accepting her help without arguing. The drive was silent, aside from the soft music that played on Maria’s car radio. Much like the music in the shop, but it was mostly oldies. Dream smiled, as he peered out his side of the window, watching monsters, humans, and hybrids scatter into shops, or into their vehicles (or the buses) to escape the rain. Many were already leaving work to head home, or to meet up at a popular restaurant for an early dinner. 

A peaceful smile stretched over his mouth as he silently watched the world pass by, happily watching the citizens go about their late afternoon. Once again, Dream wished he had found this AU sooner, the idea of sharing such a lovely experience with his friends warmed his soul. That smile fell just a bit and his soul began to ache from missing his friends. Blue would have loved meeting everyone, and Ink would have loved to paint the beauty this city has to offer. He thought to himself. Nightmare would have appreciated the kindness these folks shared. Nightmare. If Dream had succeeded in saving his brother, this AU would have been a perfect place for him as well. They could finally relax and not worry about any more trouble. 

He could imagine his brother, sweet little Nighty, sitting under one of the many trees in the park; a book in his lap with his circlet tipped askew as he napped. No one would come up to mess with him, only to wake him up to offer their company. Maybe request to grab a meal with them. 

Yes, Nighty would have liked it here. As much as I wish to find Nightmare, it would only lead to the downfall of this AU. I’m sure of it. Dream thought sadly, his smile finally falling as he fought the tears that wanted to escape his sockets. He believed Nightmare was still there, underneath all of that corruption. But, he didn’t believe in himself to pull him out. Not anymore. As much as Dream wished he could share this experience with his brother, with his friends, he decided that for once… For once, he’ll be selfish and keep this AU to himself. 

Immediately after thinking that, Dream deflated in guilt; this wasn’t like him. Being greedy and keeping something so wonderful secretive from his friends. But, he chose to leave his old life behind, which in turn, he had to let go of those he called his friends. It was the right thing to do. 

Wasn’t it?

“We’re here.” Maria’s soft voice shook Dream from his gloomy thoughts. He raised his watery gaze to look before them; it was a cozy looking cafe filled with customers who seeked shelter from the rain. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed this cafe before; he always wandered the city when he had the time. There was just so much that caught his attention, this shop was easily missed, he determined. He blinked away the unshed tears before turning his gaze to his driver who smiled sympathetically. Her eyes softened and her smile widened just a little when she saw his attention was on her. He wondered if she caught his saddened expression or maybe it was the tears? 

“Ready to go inside?” Her voice was soft, filled with kindness. He knew she would let him sit out here just a bit longer if it meant to gather himself from his heavy thoughts. Dream felt a warmth spread through him, the care and kindness that exuded from her soul filled him with the strength to get past his little bout of depression. 

“I am ready.” Dream said just as softly, his smile perked as he was filled with the positive energy that she unknowingly fed him. He made the first move, flipping his hood over his head and opening the car door before stepping out into the rain. Maria followed after, once their doors were shut, she pressed the lock button on her key fob as they hurried to the cafe’s entrance. 

The coffee shop was busy. It was here where Dream had a taste of bitter negativity. A few customers were waiting for their order a little longer than they would have liked, and had cut in front of a customer who was in the middle of ordering. They asked where their order was; “We’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes!” The staff apologized to them and explained that they were short staffed today. “We will have your order out to you in a few minutes. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” 

Dream had expected the customers to raise more of a fuss. Maybe it was because their orders had come almost immediately after the employee explained their hindrance. Or maybe the customers were willing to be more patient. Dream wouldn’t know, as he felt their stress ease slowly and thanked the employees before leaving. 

Dream watched them leave, hurrying to their vehicle and climbing inside before they were soaked to the bone. They must have been running late for something, Dream decided. He was relieved that the negativity didn’t last long, it had tasted bitter and stung his soul. He didn’t miss that feeling. 

“It’s no surprise that they’re busy this evening. The storm is supposed to continue on for at least another hour or so.” Maria said; she had also witnessed the small disruption, watching the customers leave before turning her attention to her friend. She studied his creased expression of concern fade into a more peaceful look. She watched his shoulders slack and heard his soft exhale of relief.  Once he was relaxed, he turned his attention to her.  “I imagine everyone will want to find comfort in a warm beverage during the storm. The staff looks exhausted.” Dream noted, having stolen another glance towards the cashier as they priced the orders, accepted the payments and sent the order to the baristas. Maria nodded, agreeing with Dream. “That they do.” She let the silence between them linger for a moment before asking, “Have you found anything you’d like to try?” 

Oh, Dream hadn’t thought to look at the menu yet. He was busy feeling the different emotions that charged the shop. He was busy soaking in the positivity, especially after the small fuss from earlier. His eye lights caught sight of the chalkboard above the counter and squinted to read some of the small writing. Nothing snagged his attention, until he found a favorable sounding beverage. It wasn’t coffee, Dream wasn’t in the mood for that. Instead he resolved on a fruity tea; he voiced his choice to Maria who nodded.  Once it was their turn, Maria placed their order, paid (with a tip) for the drinks before guiding Dream to an empty booth.

“So,” Maria started once they sat down across from each other. Dream’s wandering gaze shifted to look at her curious one. “May I be a little bold?” Dream smiled and nodded; “Of course.” He wondered what she had on her mind this time. After starting his job at her shop, they have been getting to know each other fairly quickly-  “Are you an empath, Dream?” 

His smile fell first before his eyes widened in surprise. Many thoughts filtered through his mind and he started to panic a little- did she figure out he wasn’t a monster at all? Did she have an inkling that he was more of a god?  He didn’t realize he was stumbling over his words to reply to her question, “H..How?” 

Maria offered a patient smile;  “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable. But, I just notice how you react to certain situations involving strong emotions. You deflate when someone isn’t feeling well, or is sad or upset. But, when someone is happy, you glow. Your smile is brilliant and very contagious. I had just wondered…” 

Oh. He… He didn’t know he had reacted in such ways. In the back of his mind, he remembered someone had mentioned the same thing. Was it Blue? Ah, he couldn’t remember, it had been so long ago. 

He hadn’t realized he was quietly staring at Maria in surprise when an employee walked over to deliver their drinks; they had come quicker than Dream had expected due to how busy it was. He blinked a few times as his warm disposable cup was placed in front of him, before he glanced up and offered a smile and a soft “thank you”.  

The beverage was still hot, but that didn’t stop Dream from taking a sip. It was delicious, the fruit was potent on his magic as it soaked into it. He visibly relaxed, letting his stress flow from his bones. Maria remained quiet, patient as she too enjoyed her warm coffee. She had ordered a caramel, macchiato mocha; he could smell it from where he sat.  He smiled as he felt the delight from Maria as she enjoyed her drink, warming her body and soul.  It helped him relax further before he finally felt ready to answer her question from a moment ago. 

“You are correct; I am an empath.” 

Maria hummed as she took another sip from her drink before placing it on the table, her hands wrapped around the still hot cup.  “It must be very exhausting.” She responded. “I know someone who is an empath as well, but she is very sick right now. I think…” Maria trailed off as her eyes shifted away from Dream’s and became unfocused; her smile falling as she lost herself in her thoughts. 

Her emotions were everywhere, from worry, to fear, then to reassurance. They flitted through her soul so fast, Dream felt as if received whiplash, but in a more emotional way. He blinked and leaned forward to gently touch Maria’s hand, sending a wave of positive support through her being. He felt bad for using his power on her, but this was the first time he has seen her so upset and it didn’t feel right. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” He offered her relief; clearly this was a touchy subject, he could tell, but he wasn’t about to let her suffer alone. Maria glanced down to where his fingers gently touched hers and smiled. She raised her gaze, and a gentle wave of relief hit his soul. “You are so kind, Dream.” She commented before continuing.  

“Norah is a mage with empathetic qualities. She could light up the room, just like you can. Her aura was bright and soothing. Everyone felt at ease with her, even when they were having a bad day. Being around her helped rid them of their daily stress.” Maria explained with a wide smile, but it weakened as she recalled the day her friend had become ill.  “We’re really unsure what had caused her to fall ill. Her brother, Felix, had called Lily in a panic. He said that Norah had fallen unconscious. The poor young man, I had to call for help, he was in such a state of distress. We met them at the hospital and after hours of labs and testing, they couldn’t find the cause of her state of health. It was so strange.” 

“The hospital continued to do what they could for her to keep her comfortable while they tried to figure out her illness. It was only a week into her being at the hospital when this young doctor showed up. He said he lived outside of the city, but had heard about Norah’s condition and offered to help. His sudden appearance and willingness to help brought on a wave of unease, especially for Felix, but this doctor seemed to know what to do. He had checked her over and mentioned that it looked as if she were “falling down”, and that set Felix off.” Maria chuckled humorlessly. “He was so angry; said that there was no reason for her to fall down. Typically, monsters or hybrids will do that, but mages? Their souls are strong!” 

“Even if that were the case… What could have suffered Norah so much for her to fall into herself?” Dream asked gently, his brows creased with concern. “How long has she been in a coma?” Maria took a moment to drink her now cooled coffee before she answered. “A few months now. The doctor still visits her, but usually when he’s there, she stirs but never opens her eyes. It’s a promising sign, I think. Whatever the doctor is doing, it seems to be the right thing.” 

“What-” Dream begins, but falters as he gathers his thoughts, clearly uneasy. “What is the doctor doing to help Norah?” Maria shrugged gently, unable to answer that question. “He doesn’t tell us what he’s doing, performing labs and testing. I know part of the testing has to do with her soul.” 

Dream hums as he thinks about it. He’s no doctor, but it doesn’t sound right.  “I suppose,” Dream begins slowly. “If it’s aiding Norah in the end, the doctor’s methods should be trusted?” He didn’t sound sure, because he wasn’t sure- He’s never heard of this before and it really makes him feel so much more useless. His deep frown has the smile returning to Maria; “Don’t worry, Dream.” She tries to ease his worries. “I’m sure you’re right. This is new to all of us, after all. We should trust the doctor.” 

“Yes,” Dream returned her smile, even though his worries still gripped his soul. “All will be well in the end, Maria. I’m positive.” His smile widened a little and he chuckled softly at his own unintentional pun. 

After such a heavy topic, Maria and Dream switched to a lighter conversation, the rain had stopped by the time they left the shop. They hadn’t meant to stay so long; seeing as the sun was setting, Maria asked Dream over for dinner. He politely declined, explaining that he was quite exhausted. “I understand.” She told him and drove him home. However, they planned for dinner the following night. The shop would be closed, giving them a much needed day off to prepare for the small dinner party. Dream thanked Maria for the ride (and the beverage) and bid her a good night before heading inside his cozy apartment. 

-

“He’s full of shit!” Felix’s irritated voice boomed in his apartment; he wanted to throw something, but knew it wouldn’t help matters. (And it would frighten Lily, she hates loud noises-) “Felix,” Lily calmly called after him as she slipped off her sneakers and followed Felix into the living room. “Felix, please calm down. I know you’re upset, but there’s not much we can do.” She tried again, but she knew it just fueled her fiancé's anger. He gripped at his white hair and tugged at it, his huffed before pausing and inhaled deeply. His eyes closed tightly and he counted backwards, 10, 9, 8- 

Lily watched him with concern as he tried to calm himself. 7, 6, 5- His shoulders started to fall and his fingers slipped from his hair as his hands fell to his sides. 4, 3, 2- He slouched forward and exhaled, held himself there before inhaling; he caught his breath before turning around to face Lily with a distressed frown. Fresh tears lingered in his blue eyes, but he refused to let them fall. His wet, saddened gaze met Lily’s, his body deflated as if defeated by the stress that had built up once again during their visit at the hospital. 

The shorter, young woman’s steps were silent as she moved to stand in front of him and wrap her arms around Felix’s middle. She only came up to his shoulders, her head resting against his chest as she tried to comfort him. His long arms encased her within his embrace and he laid his head on top of hers. In the apartment, he was safe to cry. To release his emotions of despair. “She doesn’t deserve this.” 

“She doesn’t.” Lily agrees with him. 

“It’s not fair.” He cries softly. 

“It’s not.” She rubs his back, her heart breaking as she hears the sadness in his voice. 

“That doctor is fucking around with us!” He snapped with a bout of anger. 

“He’s been the only one who was able to get her so close to waking up, though.” She tried to defend the doctor; Felix shook his head, disagreeing. “Something isn’t right about him, Lil’s. I know you can feel it, too.” She felt speechless, because he was right. Everyone knew he was right. But, what could they do? 

“She’ll come back to us, Felix. Have faith, okay? She’s strong, she’ll wake up.” 

Felix remained silent as he held Lily close and cried in the safety of his home. 

-

There was no note explaining where he had gone. All that Core!Frisk found in the home was Dream's belongings placed neatly, safely on his bed. Now, Core knew Dream would never leave without his crown; and his weapon was left behind as well. Something he summoned and would always have with him. He didn’t dust or anything- would he turn to dust if he died? Dream wasn’t a monster, but a celestial being. If he didn’t dust, how would they know Dream was gone from the living?

Core shook their head, before deciding to send out a search party. Dream had to be somewhere- he could be hurt! That last battle with his brother had sent him home with a fractured leg; Dream was too determined to save the Multiverse, to spread positivity and save those in need. So, maybe that’s what he was doing? 

But without his gear?

“Fresh,” The parasite wore his easy grin as he lifted a bone brow, waiting for Core to continue. “Will you help me look for Dream? He isn’t home.” 

“Hah! You betcha, my funk friend!” Still so energetic, Fresh flicked his hands up and pointed his finger guns at Core, moving them in a back and forth motion as he always does. “Thank you, Fresh. I’m going to check in with Swap first, would you mind checking Ink?” With another excitable laugh, Fresh snapped his fingers, a doorway poofing into place that would lead him to Ink’s Doodlesphere. “Sure thang!” The door popped open and the goofy possessed skeleton skated on through. With a dramatic slam, the door disappeared in the same silly way it appeared. 

With a soft sigh, Core prepared to check in with Blue, hoping that Dream was there, safe and sound. 

Underswap’s AU was doing fantastic! The monsters were on the surface and both the humans and monsters were getting along well enough. There was no sight of any negativity (more so than usual), but there also wasn’t any feeling of positivity that seemed to follow Dream wherever he went. This only made Core uneasy as they knocked on the skeletons door; they only waited for- well, a few seconds really! Blue threw the door open and with his usual excitable grin welcomed Core into his home. 

“What brings you here, Core?” Blue asked as he led them further into his home. He offered them a beverage which Core declined politely.  “I’m looking for Dream. Have you seen him?” They asked with a tone of concern. This had Blue alert, but it did nothing to deflate his grin.  “I haven’t, friend. Not since we were last together when we fought Nightmare and his gang! Is he okay? Is he off on his own again?” Blue’s question ended with an exasperated huff of annoyance. It was always like Dream to get up and do things that could hurt his wounds before they had a chance to heal! 

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I think he is alone, but I don’t know where he could be. I can’t seem to find him.” Core paused, watching as Blue worked on sewing up his cape that got torn from his last battle.  “He left his belongings at his house.” 

This had Blue pausing, now fully alert and worried, filling his soul. He raised his eye lights to study Core for a moment. “Oh. That’s…” Blue began. “That is an odd thing for Dream to do. You can’t sense him anywhere?” Core shook their head. “I can’t. It worries me; he left his crown behind.” This only raised Blue’s concern and he jumped up. “Well! We should go looking for him! Who knows what kind of silly things he’s getting into!” 

Dream could be stubborn, especially when he’s been hit with a large amount of negativity. Sure, he is the Guardian of Positivity! But, just like everyone else, he can have blue days too. 

“We should go grab Ink-!” 

Just as Blue suggested gathering Ink for their search party, the silly artistic skeleton appeared in the living room where he began to panic. Behind him, a relaxed Fresh stood, watching with an easy grin. 

“Blue! Blue! Dream is missing!” Ink shouted and he grabbed Blue by his shoulders, shaking him back and forth. Blue tried to get him to stop, but had to push him away and grab him. “Ink!” He raised his voice, snapping Ink out of his panic. “Freaking out won’t help anything! We’re going to search for our friend. Do you have any idea where he could have ran off to? Without his stuff?” 

Ink paused as he thought about it, but with his disappearing memories, he had nothing to offer- he even checked his scarf! “I don’t have a clue, sorry Blue. Hey!” Ink grinned, his eye lights changing colors and shapes from his amusement. “That rhymed!” He laughed; it was no surprise to the others, Ink always got distracted so easily. Even with the alarming development of a missing Guardian, Ink’s silliness still got the others to grin. 

“Alright!” Blue started and threw his fist into the palm of his other hand, his expression pulled into a determined look. “We should start searching the positive AU’s, I’m sure he’s close by! We’ll find him and bring him home! Our friend needs support! I’m sure Nightmare had said something awful to him that got him feeling down. A movie night/slumber party is in order to help brighten him back up!” Blue declared, the others agreeing with his plan. Each one picked where to check first, Ink having to write his choices down on his scarf and Blue leaving a note for Papy when he came home. (So he didn’t get scared that Blue wasn’t home- or in the AU.) Then, they split up, making their way across the Multiverse, searching for their very dear friend. 

-

Something wasn’t right and he wasn’t sure what it was. The castle was quiet, that was strange indeed; but not what was bothering him. There seemed to be a steady increase in negativity, but he was sure his foolish brother would hurry to change that. 

Nightmare paused as he laid his feather quill pen down onto the desk, pausing his report so he could feel out for his brother’s annoying presence. Soon, he would step into whichever AU that had dropped a little into a more negative side, and help those who were not doing well, emotionally. Nightmare could tell these AU’s were more neutral, they usually teetered to one side until either brother showed up to fix it. 

Of course, Nightmare didn’t think it would be necessary to send his boys out to cause chaos. He was plenty full; besides, it was too soon to be going out to end up fighting with the Stars once more. His boys were still injured, and it didn’t help that Killer kept pissing off Dust to the point of them fighting. Nightmare was growing tired of their bullshit, and would have to send them to the far ends of his castle. 

… Hm. 

He hummed softly in wonder, before ignoring that strange feeling of something isn’t right, and picked his pen back up to finish his report. He will just enjoy the negativity, never one to turn it down. 

The sound of crashing and a Gaster Blaster going off had Nightmare’s anger rise up. He dropped his pen and slipped through his corruption and appeared in the lobby where Killer and Dust were fighting. Cross and Horror were on the sidelines, trying to stop the fight, (trying my ass, he thought). 

“That is enough!” Nightmare’s booming voice echoed throughout the castle halls, and caused the two fighting skeletons to freeze in place. They really pissed off their boss this time. “I fucking can’t believe I have to put you both in timeout!” He growled as he sent his tentacles over to snatch up the two and bring them close so they could see just how angry he was this time. His tentacles squeezed them, threateningly, daring them to try his patience. He summoned two portals, one behind each skeleton. “If you like acting like children, then I will send you both to timeout!” He shouted and threw each skeleton into their own portal, locking them away in a different part of the castle until they calmed the fuck down. 

“Whoa,” He could feel Cross’s fear and Horror’s uneasiness. “Boss, are you alright? You seem more angry than usual.” Cross dared to ask. Nightmare sent a dark glare at the monochrome skeleton, his tentacles wiggling in furious behind him. “Those two idiots have pushed my patience! I am simply fed up with their foolishness!” He saw Horror shift uncomfortably, Nightmare sighed roughly; “They are in the same rooms as before, Horror. You may only retrieve them when dinner is ready.” 

Horror visibly relaxed at that, and nodded; “Yes.. sir.” He drawled before he and Cross turned away to leave their angry boss. Nightmare turned away, allowing himself to be swallowed up by his portal and stepped into his office. He just wanted to get his report finished (a report for his records and no one else), then he could relax with a new book to read. Then, and only then, would he be able to ignore this annoying feeling that just seemed to pester him in the back of his mind. 

It irritated him to no end that this feeling had to do with his brother. He probably has a new idiotic plan to “save” me. Nightmare thought bitterly with a roll of his eye. He sat back at his desk and picked back up where he left off.

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

*There's a thunderstorm, Maria closes the shop early and invites Dream to have a coffee.

*As they enjoy their beverage, Maria speaks about Norah, our young lady who is in the hospital.

*She's a mage with Empathetic powers. No one know why she fell ill; but there is a strange doctor who is "trying" to "help" Norah.

*Everyone tries to be strong and supportive, especially for Felix (Norah is his adopted sister, the adopted part wasn't mentioned in the chapter, whoops. D; ) Felix is the only one who is vocal about not trusting the doctor.

*Core!Frisk, Fresh, Blue, and Ink find out that Dream is missing (in that order, lol) and go searching for him.

*Nightmare feels something is amiss, but ignores it?

*Killer and Dust are at each other's throats, and it pisses off Nightmare, lol.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I know it was long, and probably boring... Just kind of wanted to show that even though it's a positive AU, there is negativity popping up; the usual stuff. For most citizens, anyway. I'm interested to see what you guys think of Norah and what's causing her to stay asleep for so long! As well as who this doc is and what he's doing. (Super nervous about the reaction to that reveal.)

Let me know what you think? :)

[fairyniceyeah]

You made my dawn - Big brother 🍒🦖

Titel from 1 to 13 (SEVENTEEN)

Previous story: Food coma

Summary: They didn’t need her anymore.

CW: /

Main characters: S.Coups/Seungcheol + Dino/Chan

Eunji hadn’t thought that one simple sentence could cause so many diverse emotions.

“I don’t need your help today, noona. Cheollie-hyung helped me with my homework already!”

Chan had been positively beaming at her when he told her, proudly showing his finished worksheets with some notes unmistakingly in Seungcheol’s writing.

Of course Eunji hadn’t really enjoyed doing homework of all things with the trainees - another thing she had not expected she would do when she became a manager - but it sort of had become a ritual for her and Chan to sit down every evening they could and look over his schoolwork. She had patiently answered questions and at points spent her breaks - or schedules she had accompanied the trainees to but wasn’t really needed at - to research some answers on the internet. 

It had been even more work on top of her workload so she found herself surprised that the first emotion she felt was sadness. She had liked those evenings. With being responsible for so many kids it was sometimes hard to keep track of them all and she had enjoyed doing it with him, spending one on one time with the maknae.

Of course she didn’t show it. She just ruffled his hair and told him she was glad he had found help in his responsible mat-hyung. 

But when the scene repeated each evening, she couldn’t help but feel nostalgia. Together Seungcheol and Chan sat down at the kitchen table, pouring over the latter’s homework. They would work diligently most of the time but there were so many moments of laughter too. Whenever Chan had a question Seungcheol would do his best to answer it, finding creative ways to explain concepts Chan didn’t quite grasp. 

“Remember when we cooked for Chuseok? When Jun and Mingyu helped each other out with cutting the vegetables - that’s a symbiotic relationship. They profited from each other’s strengths, Junnie is better with the carrots and Mingyu-yah did all of the kimchi when Jun started to struggle. Jeonghannie, on the other hand, made me cut all the onions until I was crying while he sat and snacked on what we had already prepared - that’s a parasitic relationship. He used me for his gain but I didn’t gain anything from working with that idiot.”

Chan would always end up hugging Seungcheol after each session, eyes sparkling and thanking his hyung profusely. It was cute really, the way he even clung to Seungcheol when he explained something, the older one rubbing Chan’s back while he talked. 

And then, maybe a week after Chan had first rejected her help, she was hit with a new realization. Chan was sitting curled up on Seungcheol’s lap while they did some math homework, the maknae drained and exhausted and Seungcheol doing more of the work than just helping. 

The painful sensation in her chest was jealousy.  

She wanted to be the one helping Chan, spend time with the maknae. But Seungcheol, the natural older brother, had taken over that role for her. Years ago that hadn’t been thinkable - Seungcheol was not a fan of any extra work but seeing Chan struggle with it must have triggered something in him. 

So when Chan needed him, no matter how little he matter was, he was there.

And then she remembered all those little things. All the little ways the trainees had grown to become one team, one family. 

How the trainees noticed when Seungcheol got nervous and overwhelmed with his newly announced role of leader, all of them rallying together to remind him that they loved and trusted him, that he was the right person.

How whenever Jeonghan struggled with his long hair, one of the members already had a hair tie ready and helped him get it out of his face - emphasizing that the long hair the company insisted he keep did not make him look like he was a woman.

How they all instinctively knew when Jisoo was homesick and needed a hug, the same going for Jun.

How they all went to Soonyoung if they needed help with choreography and always praised what he created, knowing he sometimes doubted himself.

How they knew to give Wonwoo space, sometimes even before Wonwoo himself realised he was getting overwhelmed and would take him to a quiet corner so he could recharge some energy.

How none of them teased Jihoon for his height but rather helped him and even anticipated when he needed help reaching something and giving it to him before he even had to ask for help.

How they all patiently waited for Minghao to speak, never rushing him or talking over him, just gently encouraging his Korean and praising him for his massively improving skills.

How Seokmin’s favorite playlist would ring through the whole dorm if he was upset, the other trainees turning it on so he would smile again and sing along enthusiastically.

How they always checked in with Mingyu when they teased him if it was okay and if they went too far, and how they would sometimes even reach for him before he could predictably spill something or trip.

How they knew that Seungkwan thrived on physical contact and they would make sure to hug and kiss him whenever they could.

How they never teased Hansol for his quirks, just made sure the second youngest felt heard and doting on him when they could.

How apparently they were now even helping Chan with unpleasant tasks like homework. 

Once upon a time, all of that had been Eunji’s job, something she was proud of and loved to do for her charges. She had been the one they went to with problems. The one they trusted more than anyone. 

But now watching Seungcheol just sweeping in and taking over her role, guiding the kids like she had done … she couldn’t help but feel obsolete and superfluous. 

They didn’t need her anymore.

Eunji was torn out of her thoughts by a loud gasp and then a worried voice calling: “Noona? Are you … are you crying?”

The manager looked up from her position on the sofa to where Seungcheol and Chan looked at her, both with equally confused and worried expressions on their faces. She reached up and indeed, her face was wet with tears. She hadn’t even noticed she had started to cry.

She hadn’t expected what happened next. Seungcheol and Chan abandoned the homework on the table and rushed over to her. Chan threw himself onto her lap, wrapping her in his arms while Seungcheol knelt down by the couch, taking one of her hands in his bigger ones. Eunji could have sworn they had been so much smaller.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Noona’s fine”, she said, her trembling voice betraying her. “I’m just being silly.”

Chan looked at her, eyes wide and honest. “Noona, you’re never silly.”

“What’s going on?”, Seungcheol asked gently, squeezing her hand. “We wanna help you for once too. You do so much for us. Let us be there for you too.”

Eunji sniffed, a shaky laugh escaping her. It was so Seungcheol.

“It’s just … I guess, watching you work together on Channie’s homework like that, it made me realize how far you have come. Where are the little trainees I just started working with, the ones who wanted bedtime stories and hugs and held my hand all the time? You’ve all grown up so much and you’ve grown so close, like a real family. You are exactly what I hoped for you to be: The best of friends and a great team. Just … I guess, with how much you have grown… you don’t really need your old noona anymore, do you? You’ve got each other now.”

As she finished speaking Chan leaned forwards, wrapping her in the tightest hug ever. “We’ll always need you, noona”, he sniffed, “don’t say that. We need you. You’ve always been there for you. Without you we wouldn’t be here like this. You make sure we feel seen and are happy and … noona, I think I’ll need you even when I’m eighty.”

Eunji couldn’t help the small sob escaping her and she pressed a kiss to the maknae’s hair. “You are too sweet, Channie.”

“He’s right though, noona”, Seungcheol agreed, sitting on the couch and wrapping his arms around both of them. “You were there when we started. You made us who we are today. Without you there would be no SEVENTEEN. You made our dawn.”

Next story: Hug

Masterlist links: Fairy's Masterlist 2024 Fairy's Masterlist 2025 Fairy's Advent Calendar 2024 - You made my dawn

[clonetrooperjournals]

Wake up

Summary : When a accident leaves you in a coma Kix has to deal with his feelings and how he may never get to tell you them

Pairings : Medic Kix x GN reader

Warnings : Coma patient, angst, but with a happy ending, fluffy, slightly spicy

Words : 1.2 k

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Hey cyare. How are we feeling today?”  Kix sits beside your bed looking at your charts, “Still not answering me huh? Your stubbornness never ceases to amaze me beautiful...”  

The med bay was quiet this morning, which was good because that meant Kix could spend more time at your side. It became somewhat of a routine for him since the day he had carried you in there frantically while you clung to life.  

You were a civilian medic who worked under Kix for well over a year, and the sunshine of the med bay. Soldiers always looked forward to getting you to treat them because of your bubbly nature and bright smile that never left your face. Kix had tried to keep it professional, but you had put him under your spell the more you got to know each other, and he fell for you, hard. He never told you his feelings though and now he’s scared he may never get the chance.  

 It all happened so fast. The 501st got deployed on another mission and this time the entire medical team got deployed with them. You had only been deployed a few times, and it was always rough. This time though what Kix didn’t expect was you to go running to a soldier that was crawling his way to the medical tent and in doing so, put yourself and the soldier right in the line of fire for a grenade blast. Kix had never moved so fast, but you had got blasted before he could reach you. He grabbed you over one shoulder and the soldier over the other, hauling ass back to the tent. Luckily enough the damage wasn’t severe, but you did slam your head pretty good after getting thrown into a building and had broken your arm.  

You hadn’t woken up since then, and Kix didn’t know why. Your vitals were good, and you had healed from your injuries already, but you just wouldn’t wake up, you were comatose. It's been three months since that day, and they returned home from deployment. You laid on your cot in the corner of the med bay by the window looking peaceful as you slept.  

“Please wake up cyare... I don’t know why you're not waking up but... I need you...”  

... 

You were stuck in this fog. You couldn’t get out of it and the more you tried the more lost you got. You were looking for light, it would appear sometimes but disappear before you could reach it. You were getting more and more tired the longer you searched, and you were beginning to give up hope of ever getting out of there. You needed to get out and find... someone. Someone important to you. Who was it?  

Someone you love. Yes, you were trying to return to the one who holds your heart because you had to tell them. You had to tell him that you love him. You were scared that you may never get the chance.  

“Kix... I’m sorry. I can’t find my way back to you...”  

... 

It was evening now. Everyone had left the med bay for the evening except for Kix. He sat at your side holding your hand, gently rubbing circles to calm himself more than anything. He stared at you, your soft lips, your button nose, the beauty mark under your eye, you were beautiful. The most beautiful person he’s ever seen.  

“Today was a long day. Fives got his hand stuck in a glass jar, don’t even ask. Something about echo daring him to do it, the idiot.” Kix chuckles, “Of course Echo denied everything. Those two are pains in the ass on a good day. You would have scolded them and probably secretly high fived echo because your just as much trouble as those two...” 

He looks out the window at the night sky sighing gently, “cyare. I don’t know why you're not waking up but please... if you can hear me, I need you to listen. I need you to wake up.”  

He gently strokes your cheek, “Please wake up so I can tell you I love you.”  

Tears start to fall from his eyes and he wipes them away, “I can’t lose you please... I’ll tell you over and over how much I love you, so much so that you get sick of hearing it. Please baby, wake up for me.” 

... 

 There!  

A small light flickering in the distance. You run as hard as you can, as fast as your legs can carry you.  

“Please wake up so I can tell you I love you.” 

You run even harder the light just out of reach, your lungs are burning but you keep running.  

“I’ll tell you over and over how much I love you, so much so that you get sick of hearing it...”    

 “Kix! I’m coming!” You yell as you push even harder reaching out and with all you’re might, you jump for the light. The warmth floods you and the light consumes your whole body, and the fog disappears. 

... 

You feel the IV in your arm, the harsh lighting of the med bay that strikes your hazy eyes, the sound of the heart monitor beeping steadily. Then you see him, Kix. Your Kix.  

He had his head down on your cot. His hand was holding yours whispering gently, “Please wake up baby.”  

You smile gently at the trooper, “I could get used to you calling me baby.”  

Kix shoots up so fast he knocks over the chair he was sitting in. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had dark circles under his eyes, but he still looked incredibly handsome. He was gaping at you not believing that you were awake.  

You sit up slowly, “Sorry it took me so long to come back...”  

Kix then grabs you and hugs you, squeezing like he was afraid to let go, “I thought... I thought you weren’t gonna...”  

“You think you could get rid of my stubborn ass that easily then clearly you don’t know me honey” you chuckle squeezing him back.  

He laughs gently, letting loose just a bit to look at you. The bright smile he fell in love with staring back at him, “I love you.”  

“I love you too” you say cupping his cheeks, thumbs rubbing over the stubble.  

The both of you look at each other's lips already leaning in. The kiss was gentle at first but as you both get more comfortable it becomes more frantic as all the pent-up emotions come to the surface. He groans as you bite his lower lip, and he shoves his tongue in your mouth hungrily. He pins you down kissing down your neck lazily stopping above your racing heart.  

He looks up at you smirking, “I think we should stop here before we get caught.”  

You sigh dreamily at your trooper, “Yeah probably.” 

He chuckles sitting you up and kisses you gently, “Let's get you checked out so I can give you a thorough examination... in your room.”  

“You're such a man” you laugh shoving his chest. 

“Your man, yes.” 

“Yes. My man.”