#“The only place we're going is to the pharmacy.”

[fletcherwilbury]

@sicktember Day 10: "The only place we're going is to the pharmacy."

Warning for Hospital setting, past injury, eye infection, surgery mention, medication mention, pharmacy mention, illness, sleep issues, appetite issues

[faofinn]

10. “The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy”

Harrison hadn't moved from Tai's sofa all weekend. They'd been out together on the Friday, a date night quickly turning into a weekend. They'd gotten more than a little tipsy, falling into bed together when they got home. 

Of course they both felt rather worse for wear the morning after, but they curled into each other and pulled the duvet over their heads to block out the world. By the afternoon, the worst of the hangover had faded, but Harrison was left with a scratchy throat and sniffles he couldn't stop. His body ached too, but he'd brushed that off being active the night before. Tai made a late lunch for them, just snacky food from the fridge, things to pick at.

Tai had been looking forwards to the food, settled on the sofa next to Hars, but the other man had been quiet, and he had to admit he was worried. He’d hardly touched the food, unlike him, and he frowned. 

“You still hungover?” He asked softly. 

"Mm?" Harrison raised his head, trying to focus on Tai. Everything was fuzzy and thick, and just not right. "Oh, probably, yeah."

“I feel you. Not as young as I used to be. Can’t remember how I used to drink as much as I did at Uni.” 

"Yeah, I didn't think I'd had that much, though."

“More time on the sofa required, then. We can order in tonight.”

"Oh, sure, yeah." Harrison blushed. "I'd like that."

“Me too.”

"Thought I was gonna be home alone tonight again."

“Mm, no. I’m selfish, I want to keep you here.”

"I'm not gonna argue at that." Harrison grinned, though quickly turned away to sneeze. "Ugh. Sorry."

“You alright?”

"Came out of nowhere."

“I should probably dust or something.”

"It's not your place. Just a random one."

“Mm, okay.”

"What are you fancying for tea?" He asked, stretching for a snack. 

“Not sure. Chinese?”

"Mm, yeah."

“We’ll get that, then.”

"Maybe not any beer, not tonight."

Tai groaned. “God no.”

"You're not meant to get hungover if you stay drunk."

“I’m pretty certain that doesn’t work, but you’re the doctor.”

"It does, for a while." Tai didn't need to know the real reason he knew that. 

“Just delaying the inevitable.”

He hummed. "Maybe, yeah."

“No beer tonight, I think I’ll die.”

"I definitely will."

“No dying.”

"So no beer."

“No beer, just greasy food.”

Harrison made a noise in agreement. "Lemon chicken, some chicken and sweetcorn soup, ooh, some proper fried rice? Ah, prawn crackers!"

“Oh, that’s settled then.”

"Mhmm, definitely." He snuggled into Tai's side, suddenly exhausted. 

“You going to nap?”

He shook his head. "No, just comfortable. I like lying in your lap."

“You’re like a cat.” He teased. 

"Where do you think I got it from?" He grinned, rolling onto his back.

“Cute like that. Do you want belly rubs?” 

"I'm not an actual cat." He protested, but didn't complain. 

Tai settled for running his hand through his hair. “You sure about that?”

He couldn't help the sigh in contentment. "Mhmm, sure."

“You’re practically purring.”

Hars cracked an eye open, deliberately purring at Tai. "How's that?"

Tai couldn’t help but laugh. “Weirdo.”

Harrison broke off to cough, though quickly grinned. "Hey, you started it."

His cough didn’t sound great, but Tai didn’t push it. He was probably just run down on top of the hangover. “That’s true.”

"It is nice, though." Harrison admitted, not meeting his gaze.

“I won’t stop, then.”

"Thank you."

“You’re nice and warm in my lap.”

"Really? I'm kinda cold." He admitted. 

“There’s a blanket on the back of the sofa.” Tai said, reaching to pull it down. “Here.”

"Won't you get too warm?"

“I’ll be okay.” 

Harrison made a quiet noise, but stretched to grab the blanket. 

Tai helped, spreading it out over him gently. “There. Better?”

He didn't think it was possible, but he fell further in love with him. He settled down, a smile on his face. "Thank you."

“Should we put a film on?”

"Mm, yeah."

Tai scrolled through idly, eventually finding something to put on. It wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it was some background noise for the pair of them to relax to. 

Harrison dozed on Tai's lap, occasionally making a comment at the film. There was something intimate about just existing with each other, and Harrison didn't want to break the spell. 

They spent most of the day there, watching shit films and dozing off the hangover. It felt tantalisingly perfect, like it was always supposed to be like that. They ordered their food that evening, and ate it laughing, the worst of Tai’s hangover gone. 

Still, they headed to be early, Tai unwilling to let Hars leave. He knew he should, but the other man wasn’t exactly complaining, and like this he could pretend things would always be like this. 

Harrison happily joined Tai in bed, curling around the other man. He still felt a bit rough, but Tai seemed to fix everything. With his head on his shoulder and his arm draped across his chest, he could almost imagine it was forever.

Tai fell asleep quite quickly, comfortable with Harrison and still tired despite the sleep he’d had during the day. He hoped Harrison would feel better soon, worried about him. 

Harrison woke in the early hours, rolling over to go to the toilet. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, waiting for his head to clear. His nose was blocked, and his throat was beyond dry. It took him a moment to realise he was ill, not just hungover, and his heart sank. He shoved his leg on, padding to the bathroom.

Sat on the toilet, he made up his mind. It wasn't fair on Tai for Harrison to get him sick, so that meant no sleeping in his bed. He hauled himself to his feet, washed his hands and then made his way to the living room, curling up on the sofa there. 

Tai had woken when Harrison had, though once he’d gone to the toilet he’d dozed off again. When he didn’t come back, though, he didn’t understand, the bed empty. 

He found him curled on the living room sofa, and still didn’t quite understand what was going on. “Hars?”

He startled awake, half sitting up in confusion. "Oh. Tai."

“Hey. Why are you on the sofa?”

He lay back down, coughing into his arm. "Think I've got a cold."

“And? Come back to bed, this isn’t comfortable.”

"I'm not getting you sick." He shook his head.

“Don’t be daft, c’mon. Come back to bed.”

"No, I'm serious." He sniffed. "I'm fine here."

“So am I. You can’t be comfortable here, you’ll sleep better in bed.”

"I'm comfy enough. And not getting you sick here."

“I think if you were going to get me sick it’s probably already happened, don’t think sharing the bed is going to make much of a difference.”

His face fell. "I know."

“Don’t worry about it, come on.”

He sighed, but didn’t sit up or make any attempt to move. "No, I'm okay here."

“I miss you in bed.” 

"I miss it, too." 

“So come back to bed.”

"I can't."

“You can, come on.”

"Tai." He whined. 

Tai reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Come on, you’ll feel better for it.”

He sniffed again. "But I'm sick. I need to go home so you don't get sick."

“I don’t mind. You can stay, then I can look after you.”

Harrison couldn't help the pang of want, to just snuggle up with Tai and be looked after. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "You won't get mad if I get you sick?"

“I won’t get mad. Promise.”

He sat up slowly, reaching for his leg. "Promise Promise?"

“Promise promise.”

With his leg back on, Harrison took Tai's hand, pulling himself up. "I'm sorry."

“It’s okay.” Tai reassured. “Do you want some paracetamol or something?”

"If you've got some." He admitted quietly. 

“Yeah, of course. Go to bed, I’ll get some.”

Harrison murmured his thanks, meekly heading back to bed. There, he happily curled under the covers, wrapping himself up in Tai's scent. 

Tai left him to it, digging around in the bedroom cupboards to find the paracetamol. He only had two tablets left, shit. He’d have to go and buy some more in the morning, but they’d do for now. He brought them to Harrison with a glass of water, melting at how sweet he looked under the duvet. 

“Got your paracetamol.”

Harrison rubbed his face, taking a second to catch up. He must have dozed while he waited for Tai, but he didn’t remember. He sat up, gratefully reaching for the water. 

"Thank you."

“You’re welcome.”

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, swallowing the paracetamol. "I can go home when it's light out."

“You don’t have to.”

"Yeah, then you don't have to put up with me."

“I like having you around.”

"Not when I'm sick." He mumbled. "You'll hate me."

“I couldn’t hate you.”

He managed a smile. "You say that now."

“It’s true.”

"Are you sure I'm alright to stay in the bed?" He asked, making no move to leave. 

“Of course you are.”

Harrison let Tai lie back down, gingerly curling into his side. "'m sorry."

“What for?” Tai asked, running his fingers through Harrison’s hair. 

His response was lost to a contented sigh, Harrison stretching out as Tai played with his hair. 

They fell asleep again soon enough, Tai relieved to have Harrison back with him. 

When Harrison woke properly, he felt absolutely rotten. He shivered, though knew he had a temperature, and his nose just wouldn't stop running. He must have been coughing all night; his throat was dry and scratchy, his voice nonexistent as he tried to say good morning to Tai. The paracetamol must have been wearing off, but Tai didn’t have any more. Which meant, as much as he didn't really want to move, he needed to go home. He managed to get Tai up and in the car, surprised that his boyfriend had been so agreeable to drive him home.

The only reason Tai had agreed to drive was to get Harrison into the car and stop him being so daft as to try and go home. He needed to get more meds, so he might as well take Harrison with him. They’d stop off at the supermarket and get some snacks and bits for him, too.

It wasn't until they were almost there that Harrison seemed to realise it wasn't the route home, and he turned to Tai with a frown. "You said home."

“The only place we’re going is the pharmacy.”

"You're kidnapping me."

“I wouldn’t say kidnapping.”

"I would." He stretched his hand out for Tai's.

“I’m just gonna buy some more paracetamol, and then we can go back to mine.”

Harrison considered it for a moment, weighing up the argument. "Mm, okay.”

[acasualcrossfade]

For the Antidote

Sicktember Day 10: "The only place we're going is the pharmacy"

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Words: 500 | Rating: T | CW: mentions of blood and poison, mild cursing

@sicktember

Summary: After the fight with Vecna, Steve is badly poisoned from the demo-bats. Eddie drives a poisoned Steve and a panicked Dustin back to the lab, the only place with an antidote.

Find me on Ao3!

---

Steve felt the car swerve to the right as he laid across Dustin’s lap. The poison spread like wildfire across his torso, his back, his spine, seemingly burning into bone marrow. Steve felt the heat of it all scorching him, burning him alive. 

“Stay with us, Harrington, I swear to God. We’re going to the lab right now,” Eddie growled from the driver's seat, taking another swerve to the right. The lights of the lab were in the distance.

They could make it. 

Steve Harrington was not going to die today.

“Hold him as still as you can, okay Henderson?” Eddie strained. Eddie refused to focus on the smell of Steve’s blood, the acidic smell of the poison, on Steve’s breathy whines, on Dustin’s panicked whimpers.

The road was a black ribbon in front of Eddie and he floored the gas, breathing hard. 

It was all his fault, Eddie knew it. Those damn bats and their damn poison and Eddie had only been able to stand and watch in muted horror as the bats bypassed him and Henderson to attack Steve instead. The man had gotten their attention and the winged creatures had descended on Harrington before Eddie could start running towards him to fight them off. 

Steve’s moans grew in volume and the car stunk of metallic and the sweet acidic scent of the poison.

“He’s looking really bad,” Dustin cried, his voice a high-pitched whine. Dustin wiped his bloody hands in his shirt, and brought them back to press against Steve’s bleeding bites. Steve’s bites had only been staunched; blood still seeped through the makeshift bandages. 

Steve coughed out a groan, curling around himself tighter. Everything hurt, everything was aflame. The humming in his ears grew louder and it became impossible to ignore. Steve honed in on it, the world falling into darkness as the white noise filled his head. 

“He’s passing out, Eddie! How far, how far?” Dustin yelped, tapping Steve’s cheek in with one panicked hand. Still, Steve’s eyes were rolling back as his body went limp across the backseat.

“A mile. Just keep him awake,” Eddie forced, flooring it. The car revved, zooming down the street.

“M’trying.” Dustin cried, continuously hitting Steve’s bruised and bloodied face. “Steve, buddy, can you hear me?  Wake up!”

Steve’s face had gone white and limp.

Dustin took a shaky deep breath in and then slapped Steve’s unresponsive face in desperation.

Steve’s blurry world snapped into focus and the sudden overlapping yells to wake up! Someone was shaking him hard, and Steve desperately wanted to ask them to please stop, it hurts, everything hurt…

Steve’s tongue was bloated sandpaper, thick and heavy, and his lungs felt like someone had put them in a cheese grater. The fire was consuming him.

The car slammed to a stop and Steve felt someone pulling him, then holding him. Steve could just make out Eddie’s worried face in the lit parking lot.

“We’re here, Harrington. Just hang on, okay? We’re getting you that antidote.”

[gaycey-sketchit]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kenji | Tracey Sketchit/Ookido Shigeru | Gary Oak Characters: Kenji | Tracey Sketchit, Ookido Shigeru | Gary Oak Additional Tags: sicktember 2023, "the only place we're going is to the pharmacy", Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Established Relationship, I wrote this for me but y'all can read it if you want Series: Part 10 of Sicktember 2023 Summary:

Gary loves a lot of things--like fossils, research expeditions, and going on adventures--but he loves Tracey most.

For Sicktember 2023 prompt 10: "The only place we're going is to the pharmacy."

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

so: masking: good, unequivocally. please mask and please educate others on why they should mask to make the world safer for immune compromised people to participate in.

however: masking is not my policy focus and it shouldn't be yours, either. masking is a very good mitigation against droplet-born illnesses and a slightly less effective (but still very good) mitigation against airborne illnesses, but its place in the pyramid of mitigation demands is pretty low, for several reasons:

it's an individual mitigation, not a systemic one. the best mitigations to make public life more accessible affect everyone without distributing the majority of the effort among individuals (who may not be able to comply, may not have access to education on how to comply, or may be actively malicious).

it's a post-hoc mitigation, or to put it another way, it's a band-aid over the underlying problem. even if it was possible to enforce, universal masking still wouldn't address the underlying problem that it is dangerous for sick people and immune compromised people to be in the same public locations to begin with. this is a solvable problem! we have created the societal conditions for this problem!

here are my policy focuses:

upgraded air filtration and ventilation systems for all public buildings. appropriate ventilation should be just as bog-standard as appropriately clean running water. an indoor venue without a ventilation system capable of performing 5 complete air changes per hour should be like encountering a public restroom without any sinks or hand sanitizer stations whatsoever.

enforced paid sick leave for all employees until 3-5 days without symptoms. the vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through industry sectors where employees come into work while experiencing symptoms. a taco bell worker should never be making food while experiencing strep throat symptoms, even without a strep diagnosis.

enforced virtual schooling options for sick students. the other vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through schools. the proximity of so many kids and teenagers together indoors (with little to no proper ventilation and high levels of physical activity) means that if even one person comes to school sick, hundreds will be infected in the following few days. those students will most likely infect their parents as well. allowing students to complete all readings and coursework through sites like blackboard or compass while sick will cut down massively on disease transmission.

accessible testing for everyone. not just for COVID; if there's a test for any contagious illness capable of being performed outside of lab conditions, there should be a regulated option for performing that test at home (similar to COVID rapid tests). if a test can only be performed under lab conditions, there should be a government-subsidized program to provide free of charge testing to anyone who needs it, through urgent cares and pharmacies.

the last thing to note is that these things stack; upgraded ventilation systems in all public buildings mean that students and employees get sick less often to begin with, making it less burdensome for students and employees to be absent due to sickness, and making it more likely that sick individuals will choose to stay home themselves (since it's not so costly for them).

masking is great! keep masking! please use masking as a rhetorical "this is what we can do as individuals to make public life safer while we're pushing for drastic policy changes," and don't get complacent in either direction--don't assume that masking is all you need to do or an acceptable forever-solution, and equally, don't fall prey to thinking that pushing for policy change "makes up" for not masking in public. it's not a game with scores and sides; masking is a material thing you can do to help the individual people you interact with one by one, and policy changes are what's going to make the entirety of public life safer for all immune compromised people.

[fanfictasia]

Sicktember Day 10

“The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy”

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Chosen Twins

Anakin Skywalker

It doesn’t take as long as I was afraid it would, for us to get back to the Temple. Obi-Wan, predictably, seems bound and determined to pretend nothing is wrong still.

“We need to write up the mission report – ” he begins.

“The only place you’re going is to the healer’s wing,” Qui-Gon interjects. Aniya looks like she’s trying not to giggle, which I entirely second. It’s about time we got some back up, and also Obi-Wan’s expression is entirely worth it.

He looks very annoyed. “That’s entirely unnecessary. There’s nothing that can be done but waiting this out, regardless.”

“How would a check up hurt, Master?” I prod, “At least they should know whether or not it’s going to get worse.” I doubt it, but we don’t want to take any chances. Even if I probably wouldn’t for myself, anyway.

“You were there too,” Obi-Wan huffs, “That checkup applies to you to, padawan, especially considering that very strange symptoms you showed.”

He’s seriously planning to pull his rank of master on me just because he’s being… stubborn? Fine.

At least if I go to, I can be sure he’s actually going to go. “No problem,” I reply, cheerfully, because he’s probably hoping I’ll get annoyed, “Let’s get moving.”

“I’ll come rescue you too later, if you’re imprisoned there,” Aniya calls, turning to go.

“Thanks for the confidence,” I reply, dryly, “Though if anyone’s imprisoned, it’s going to be Master Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan calls me impatiently and Aniya and I dramatically wave goodbye to each other before I trail after him.

Hopefully, no one will require a stay in the healer’s wing, because that wouldn’t mean anything again

[newwwwusername]

Fic title : And That's Our Cue To Pick Up Your Meds

@sicktember 2023 prompt : "The only place we're going is to the pharmacy"

Rating : General Audiences

Fandom : The Breakfast Club (1985)

Pairing : Andrew/Bender

Additional tags : Fever, Sick John Bender, Fluff, Deliriousness, Andrew Clark Has Anger Issues (Breakfast Club)

Word count : 153

[genderqueerdykes]

folks love to blame the fact that younger people are "always" on their phones or computer, always on the internet, wasting their youth, wasting their time, whatever manufactured problem they have with the situation... but what they fail to realize is that everyone is always on their phones and/or computers- because they have to be.

everything is online in 2024. you need to keep up with your school and/or attend classes? almost all of it is entirely online. you want to apply for medical insurance or food/bill assistance? the call center tells you to apply online because they're too swamped to help you in person or on the phone. want to apply for a job? the receptionist or person at the desk tells you to submit an application online, they don't handle paper ones anymore. you need to check on medical documents? they're in an online "portal" now. you need to pay your bills? completely online- some places don't employ call centers at all anymore. you need to stay in contact with important individuals like landlords, social workers, lawyers, therapists, or other professionals? email is always the preferred method of contact. it leaves a trail. check your bank balance? some banks are online only and do not have brick-and-mortar locations anymore. need to look up the address or phone number for the nearest hospital? yeah you get the point. internet.

i went without internet and a phone for months last year and it was the most stressful period of my life. i couldn't apply for anything. i couldn't log into any of my accounts for anything. i couldn't go anywhere. i couldn't use uber or lyft. i couldn't look up information for my pharmacy. i couldn't pay for anything or even check most of my bank accounts. i was screwed. he reason we're on our phones/computers all day long is because we literally have to be, because the internet is so interwoven into our every day lives that it's not a choice- it's literally a necessity. lay off with this mentality. most people do not want to be online as much as they are. it's just necessary.

[lookingformoondrop]

could i request a boyfriend!andrew graves x reader headcannons or scenarios? i LOVE TCOAAL🫶🫶

Boyfriend! Andrew Graves x Reader - Headcanons

TW: Andy has a foul mouth, reader gets groped, Andy is a little possessive, a tiny bit of violence (-is always the answer)

♥︎Notes: I'm kind of an idiot so if you notice something is spelled incorrectly, feel free to send me a dm so i can fix it (totally not at all referring to my first Yandere!Andy x Reader post where I spelled dark as darmfk ;-;). Also this is kind of short because so many people requested for Andy x Reader, so I didn't want to pull out all the stops. I hope this meets your expectations <3.♥︎

The first thing you gotta to know about dating Andy, is that he's very touch starved.

I can just headcanon that due to his aloof personality and very broody behavior, he doesn't get many hugs...

So when you enter his life, best believe that Andy shows you this completely different side of him!

I'm talking.... Cuddling in the mornings till the point where you're almost late for work because he refuses to let you go.

I'm talking.... Andy being able to sense when you're about to go into the shower. His spidey-senses tingles, and the moment you're about to hop in, he's right there already getting his hair wet.

I'm talking.... Trapping you with his kisses when you're making food, definitely not noticing that he's causing you to burn dinner.

And no amount of protest can deter this man either.

Speaking of making food... Andrew is the master-chef of the house!

Now he's no Gorden Ramsey (as he likes to tell you whenever he makes you a sandwich), but everyone knows that one bite of his food is enough to make a sailor come back to the land.

So it's very nifty when you're sick and at home, in need to have someone take care of you.

The first time you ever got sick was when you and Andy were still living separately.

It was a Friday night, and it was supposed to be your 1-year anniversary with Andy. Unfortunately, due to some unhygienic biotch at the office, you caught a cold and had to cancel.

At first Andy didn't respond, instead leaving you on read. You felt bad, figuring that he was mad at you for canceling.

But lo' and behold, exactly 10 minutes later, that was a frantic sound of keys jiggling into the your front door.

You had gotten up from your couch-potato position to see the person who wanted to rush into your home so badly, when it occurred to you;

Andrew is the only one with another set of keys...

And with that realization, Andy burst through the door with a pharmacy store bag in one hand, and a grocery store bag in another.

In an instant, Andy made you take a disgusting amount of cold medicine, and blessed your cold home with the warmth and smell of spices and herbs (likely all from the soup).

When the food was ready, he sat you up with a pillow and hand-fed you soup for the rest of the night. You felt so bad for ruining your anniversary, but everytime you tried to apologize for it, Andrew would stuff your mouth with more soup and would say;

"I don't care about that romance and anniversary shit. We don't need to go to a fancy restaurant or an expensive place just to feel like we're honoring an important date. That date is important because it is our date. We don't need to one-up that memorable time just to remind everyone of how special it is... Y/N, you're crying into the soup."

Needless to say, you cried.

But Andrew doesn't just take care of you...You best believe he also protects.

Well, sorta.

You could be in a grocery store, at a Boba shop, in the mall, getting new shoes, it wouldn't matter, Andrew would always have his hand on your waist.

Be it because he saw someone look at you, doesn't matter who or how old they are, he'll always wrap his arms around you and whisper ever so softly, "You're mine..."

It has definitely given you some weird looks over the years, but you know he means well.

And if anyone ever actually looks at you funny? It's over for them.

Andrew will make it VERY clear that you're not to be messed with.

For example, a couple of months into your relationship, you were riding the train. Enjoying a simple conversation about suspicious neighbors and whatnot, when all of the sudden some guy came up behind you and tried groping you discreetly.

Andy noticed very quickly that all the blood drained from your face. He looked behind you and noticed the old geezer trying to get a hand full of someone way younger than them, and Andrew could feel every restraint in his body snap.

In an act of "self-defense" as told to the cops later on, Andrew punched the living daylights of the guy and sent him flying into a pole.

You fussed over Andy's fist for awhile, completely forgetting about how you felt. But the only thing Andy could think about was how he should've hit that guy harder.

When you guys were finally walking home, hand in hand, you leaned on Andrew.

"I'm sorry about today Andy... I didn't mean for you to get all banged up."

Andrew snorted, "My knuckle is a little scratched up, so what? That perverted asshole had it coming for him."

You kissed Andy's cheek, which granted you a dark blush from Andy, and a grin from you.

"Thank you Aaandy~" You brushed his hand with your thumb,

Being in a relationship with Andy is a little messy, and yes sometimes a little crazy. But no matter what happens, Andy will always stick by your side.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Andy squeezed your hand in return.

Thank you for the ask<3

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hi, i hope you're doing okay!

so look i know your requests are closed but i just had an ✨insight✨while reorganizing my room today and i couldn't stop thinking about it, so i decided to write it down here cause either i'd forget it like tomorrow. you don't need to do it, obviously, but if you will, take your time.

so. fem!reader and bucky, established relationship (maybe married) and she's pregnant but she doesn't know cause it's like, super early, she didn't even have morning sickness yet. and mr. super-soldier-enhanced-hearing can hear the baby's heart as soon as it starts beating and he's like confused at first but when he realizes what it is he starts crying and hugging her waist and she's like "buck? you okay love?" and he says "you're pregnant honey, we're having a baby!" bucky's super emotional and thrilled and beyond happy he starts laughing through the tears. he gets super protective of her and her belly but like always pampering her making sure she's drinking enough water and eating and going out at three am to but something shes craving and he's like, super excited to shout to the world he got his girl pregnant with his baby. and he starts sleeping with his head on her belly just listening to the baby's heartbeat as a lullaby.

(he's gonna be the best dad i just know it <3)

hii angel!! love it!! I did change some things, hope that’s okay. thanks for requesting and hope you like it💌

>requests now open<

EXTRA GRILLED CHEESE.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 1066

summary. bucky has suspicions that you might be pregnant

For the last week, Bucky had an expression you struggled to place - his face often pulled together with intrigue, brows quizically furrowed when around your company. At first, it seemed normal to you - his infamous resting bitch face, but the more he wore it around you, the more you started to worry. 

You often felt as though you were bothering him with your talking, the features on his face unusually hard and rigid as he listened to you. It was a silly thought, really - he's your husband. He'd tell you if he needed a minute of quiet. 

But the harder you looked, the more you began to realise his face wasn't that of judgment, but instead inspection - like he was analysing you.

Elbows resting on the kitchen island, you lean over the countertop, getting closer to Bucky sitting on the other side.

"Another one?" you ask, reaching for his empty plate.

He wryly smiles. "Only if you are."

"One is never enough," you chuckle sweetly, pulling the ingredients back out of the fridge - collecting everything you need for grilled cheese. "Might do a few more— been really hungry lately. That cool with you?"

Bucky hums softly, head tilted to the side as he watches you - completely smitten. That confusing expression long gone. 

"I got it," he stands, moving around the island to you on the other side. "I got the rest. You sit, honey."

You smile cutely, stepping aside and sitting on the countertop - allowing your husband's help. "What do you want to do tonight? Movie and snacks?"

He places the sandwiches in the pan and moves to stand between your legs - slotting his lower half between. Giving you a chaste kiss, he smiles, eyes soft as he looks over you. "Sounds good. Will have to go to the store though— don't have enough in."

"We can go after this?" you offer.

He hums, kissing you sweetly. He pulls back, eyes darting over you. "We'll stop past the pharmacy first. Gotta pick something up."

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Back within the comfort of home, you and Bucky begin to put away the items from the store - bags open on the worktop as you rummage through them, standing side by side. 

Bucky stills and turns to face you, reaching into his pocket. "I uh..." he pauses and clears his throat. "I picked this up while you were looking at things in the pharmacy," he starts, pulling out a small rectangular box. "Feels stupid, I don't know," he shrugs, not confident with the direction of his proposal. 

Your eyes flicker from the box in his hand and up to his face, looking over him inquisitively. "A pregnancy test?" you ask, taking it from his light hold.

"Feels like I'm insulting you," he chuckles bashfully, stepping closer to you. "It's just... I have this feeling," he says softly, extending his hands to rest on either side of your face. "You don't have to take it."

"No— no, I do— I think. I want to. It's just that..." you exhale faintly. "We haven't really spoken about this for a while. What if it's not the result we want? What if we don't like what we see on the test?" you ask anxiously, fiddling with the box.

Bucky pauses, a soft smile on his face as he tilts your face back up - making you look up at him again. "We have time," he says sweetly. "If we don't like what we see, there are changes— there's other options," he solidifies his reassurance with a kiss. "I'll be happy with either result."

"Should I do it now?" you ask, looking down at the box.

"You do it when you're ready, honey. Doesn't have to be now, doesn't have to be today."

Briefly reading over the writing, you feel a slight swell in your heart. It all felt so daunting. You knew this was something you'd both eventually want, but the idea of it beginning now was enough to make you feel queasy. Everything was going so well in your lives, and this was such a big step in your marriage - you were just scared of what the result would do to you both.

With a deep inhale, you shrug sweetly, feigning bravado. "Piece of cake."

"Piece of cake," he repeats, kissing your temple. 

Stepping aside, you walk into the bathroom - box clutched in hand as you read through the directions. The heavy thumping in your ears distracting you from understanding it all. 

After following the instructions, you place the stick aside on some toilet paper and call in your husband, moving to sit on the edge of the bath. Without missing a beat, Bucky steps into the small room, eyes focused on yours as he walks to sit beside you - slipping his hand into yours assuringly. His large hand enveloping yours. 

You sit in uneasy quiet for what feels like an hour, each of your brains whirling with thoughts and ideas and questions - the noise far too loud in your minds. 

Then, finally, after a while, your timer goes off, the obnoxious sound interrupting you both from your fazed-out states.

"You look."

"Are you sure?" he asks, holding your hand as you both stand.

You hum anxiously, nodding at him.

With one hand tightly in yours, the other reaches for the little stick - fingers loosely wrapping around it. Bucky stills, the features on his face slowly softening.

"What does it say?"

He nods faintly, his brows curving up in the middle. "Positive," he murmurs, the shock evident in the way his tone wavers. "It's positive."

"Positive?" you repeat, your expression widening.

He hums, enveloping you in a tight embrace - pressing kisses into your cheek. 

"We're having a baby," you mutter, voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah," he nods, pulling back to look over your face - checking you were okay with it all as he is. "We're having a baby," he echos you, cupping your cheeks.

"You're okay with this?" you ask, focus blurring from a few stray tears.

He nods firmly. "Of course," he chuckles, his tearline slowly filling. "Are you?"

"Yeah," you laugh lightly, nodding - the gentle grip of his hands moving with the soft motion of your head.

"I'll give you everything you want. Everything you need— I'll get you it all."

You already had everything you wanted.

[lostfracturess]

remedies and reasons | ch. 03

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

word count — 11.8 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, smoking, alcohol use, mature themes, and depictions of illness. reader discretion is advised.

author's note — hey everyone! i'm back with a new chapter, and i know it's been a while. this time, we're diving back into suguru's head to explore his conflicting feelings. as always, this story is a spin-off of symptoms and causes, starting after chapter 12, but it can be read as a standalone. this chapter takes place during the events of chapter 14, where things were pretty intense, so get ready for suguru's perspective on those events, plus some extra bonding time with a certain law student.

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

(note: r&r reader)

What a strange fucking day.

The coffee from the hospital cafeteria tasted like burnt rubber, leaving a bitter aftertaste that matched my state perfectly. Everything felt slightly out of sorts, like the world had shifted two inches to the left while I wasn't looking, and I was the only one who noticed.

I'd put on mismatched socks this morning, didn't notice until I was already at work. Stepped in a puddle that somehow soaked through my supposedly waterproof shoes. Small things, really. Inconsequential. But they piled up like evidence that I wasn't quite myself lately.

And on top of that, my mind kept drifting back to the sports bar, to easy laughter and surprisingly good conversation. To someone who actually managed to make me forget about work for a few hours. It was... nice. Different. Unsettling. Probably why I let things get carried away. 

What the hell had gotten into me?

I wasn't the type to hook up in bar bathrooms. I didn't do reckless. I was the responsible one, always cleaning up other people's messes — usually Satoru's. 

Yet here I was, distracted and unfocused because of a law student who somehow got under my skin without me even realizing it. Frustrating. That's what it was.

I stared at the ruined samples in front of me, the third batch I'd had to throw out this morning. A stupid beginner's mistake — mixing the reagents in the wrong order like some first-year med student. The solution had turned an ugly shade of red instead of the pale blue it was supposed to be, completely useless now.

I slammed the test tube rack down harder than necessary, making the glass containers rattle. A few drops of the failed experiment splashed onto my lab coat. Perfect. Just perfect.

I glanced at Satoru across the lab bench. He'd been staring at the same equation for twenty minutes now, his leg bouncing that infuriating rhythm that made me want to stab him with my pen. The same nervous energy that had been radiating off him all morning. Neither of us was really focused on work it seemed.

"You going to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to guess?" I finally asked, perhaps partly to distract myself from my own thoughts.

He blinked, as if just remembering I was there. "Nothing's wrong."

"Really? Because you've been glaring at that formula for like an hour."

"Maybe I just enjoy looking at my own handwriting. It's pretty, isn't it? Unlike yours."

"At least the nurses can read my prescriptions without three callbacks."

"That was one time." He spun in his chair to face me. "And the pharmacy figured it out eventually."

I need a cigarette.

No, I need several cigarettes.

I was about to retort when a soft knock echoed through the lab. We both turned toward the door, and suddenly all my annoyance vanished. It was her.

Standing there in the doorway, clutching a folder to her chest, looking almost nervous. Her eyes darted between Satoru and me, and I could see the moment she registered the awkwardness of the situation.

She was wearing a crisp blazer, her hair pulled back neatly — every inch the professional law intern. Maybe it was the confused sleep deprivation talking, but I swore I caught a hint of pink creeping across her cheeks when our eyes briefly met before she looked away.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't expect to find you both here."

Satoru straightened up, his demeanor shifting instantly to doctor mode. "Everything okay? Is it your medication?"

"No, no," she quickly assured him. "Actually, I'm here about the... um, the legal consultation from the other day?" She held up the folder. "Mr. Higurama asked me to get both your signatures on these forms."

"More paperwork?" Satoru groaned theatrically. "They really love their forms at that firm, don't they? I bet they have forms for their forms."

She laughed — not the bold, uninhibited laugh from the bar, but something smaller, more contained. Professional. It was strange seeing her like this, all sharp edges and formal wear, when just days ago we'd been trading stories over beer and darts.

"Well," she said, stepping fully into the lab, "we do love forms, yes." Her eyes landed on the mess of failed experiments on our benches, the chaos of scribbles on the whiteboard. I just now realized how utterly chaotic the whole lab was. "Bad time?"

"No," I said, maybe too quickly. "Just a rough morning in the lab."

"Rough morning?" Satoru raised an eyebrow. "This is the first time I've seen him mess up this experiment since university. Usually he's annoyingly perfect."

I shot him a look that promised murder. Or at least severe bodily harm.

She glanced between us, a hint of unease, her fingers tightening on the folder as she took a small step back. "Should I come back later? When there's less...chaos?"

"No, it's fine," I said, reaching for the folder. Our fingers brushed as she handed it over, and I found myself wondering if she was still thinking about that night too. Probably not. She was just here doing her job.

I opened the folder, scanning the documents inside. More forms about professional conduct and boundaries. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"These need both our signatures?" I asked.

She nodded. "Mr. Higurama was very specific about that."

I grabbed a pen and signed where indicated, then passed the folder to Satoru. As he signed, I caught her stifling a yawn.

"Long night?" I asked.

"Just law student things," she replied with a tired smile. "Coffee and case studies until 3 AM."

"Sounds familiar," I said, thinking of my own sleepless night, though for very different reasons. "Though I prefer my all-nighters with better coffee than whatever they serve at that firm."

"Our coffee is not that bad actually—"

Before she could finish, Satoru thrust the folder at her. "Here," he said. "All signed and ready to go back to the fun police." He glanced at his phone, then suddenly stood up. "Speaking of which, I need to go. Got a... thing."

A thing? I raised an eyebrow at him, but he was already halfway to the door. "Don't mess up any more experiments, Suguru," he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving us alone in the now quiet space.

She stood there, folder clutched to her chest, looking unsure. "Is Dr. Gojo okay? He seems a bit on edge."

"Not more than usual, I guess."

"So that failed experiment over there?" She gestured past me with her finger.

I glanced at my failed experiment, which had now turned an alarming shade of green that definitely wasn't in any textbook I'd ever read. Either I'd just discovered a new chemical compound, or I was about to violate several safety protocols. Possibly both.

"Observant. They teach you that in law school?"

"No, that's just natural talent," she said, some of that bar night ease creeping back into her voice. "Though I have to say, watching things change color isn't usually part of my job description."

"Consider it a bonus lesson in chemistry." Before I could overthink it, I heard myself asking, "Have you had lunch yet?"

She hesitated, shifting the folder in her arms. "I should probably get these back to Mr. Higurama—" Just then, the folder slipped from her grasp, papers scattering across the lab floor. "Oh god," she muttered, immediately dropping to her knees to gather them.

In her haste to collect the papers, she bumped into the lab bench. The rack of test tubes rattled precariously. I lunged forward, managing to catch the rack just as it started to tip, but not before one of the tubes spilled its contents onto the counter.

"I'm so sorry!" She scrambled to her feet, papers clutched messily to her chest, her cheeks now bright red. "I swear I wasn't trying to sabotage your experiments. Though they were already ruined anyway—not that that makes it better! I just meant—"

I watched her frantically trying to collect the papers, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the chaos. "I'll pay," I offered, cutting off her rambling. "Besides, we should probably get going, that failed experiment's probably going to turn purple next and who knows what happens then."

She paused mid-reach for another paper, looking up at me with wide eyes. "Are you threatening me with your failed experiment to get me to have lunch with you?"

"Is it working?"

She glanced at the door where Satoru had disappeared, then back at me, fidgeting with the crumpled papers in her arms. "You know what? Yeah. If you really want to—I mean, after I almost destroyed your lab—"

"Well, you're certainly making my morning more interesting."

She tried to smooth out the crumpled papers, only managing to wrinkle them more. "Oh, I mean—Is that a good thing? Because I can't tell if you're complimenting me or—"

"Come on, Attorney, let's get you away from any breakable objects," I said, already shrugging off my lab coat and heading for the door. "I know a good place and trust me after that, you'll never defend that law firm sludge again."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

The café was tucked away in a narrow alley, the kind of place you'd walk right past unless you knew what you were looking for. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of freshly ground coffee beans and something sweet baking in the back.

She looked around, taking in the worn leather chairs and mismatched mugs, the walls lined with old medical textbooks and vintage anatomy charts. "So this is where all the doctors hide out?"

"Best kept secret in the hospital district," I said, leading her to a small table by the window. "Though I'm pretty sure I'm violating some sacred code by bringing a lawyer here."

The owner, an elderly man who'd been serving coffee to sleep-deprived medical staff for longer than I'd been alive, brought over two cups without us having to order. The coffee was served in glass cups, the dark liquid nearly black, with a perfect crema on top.

"What is this?" she asked, leaning forward to inspect the cup.

"Just trust me."

She raised an eyebrow. "The last time a doctor told me to 'just trust them,' I ended up with a prescription that made me sleep for sixteen hours straight."

"Satoru's work, I assume?"

"Maybe."

I watched as she lifted the cup, inhaling. Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh."

"Try it," I said, finding myself oddly invested in her reaction.

She took a careful sip, and I couldn't help but smile as her expression changed — surprise, then joy, then something close to awe.

"Holy shit," she whispered, staring at the cup like it held the secrets of the universe.

"Better than the law firm sludge?"

"Okay, fine, you win." She took another sip, closing her eyes. "What is this?"

"Family secret, apparently. The owner won't tell anyone, not even me." I picked up my own cup. "Though I have my theories."

"Care to share?"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality."

She kicked me lightly under the table. "I'm not your patient."

"No," I agreed, the words carrying more weight than I'd intended. "You're not."

She looked away, suddenly very interested in the anatomy chart on the wall, a slight flush creeping up her neck. I caught myself enjoying her reaction more than I probably should.

"You know," I said, breaking the silence, "you still haven't shown me your paintings."

Her eyes snapped back to mine. "What?"

"At the bar, you promised to show me your work someday." I took another sip of coffee. "Unless that was just the alcohol talking."

"I did not promise anything," she protested, but her fingers fidgeted with the handle of her cup. "And I don't really show my work to people."

I leaned back in my chair, studying her. "Not even to doctors who hold your hand during MRI scans?"

"Especially not to doctors who do such unethical things, Dr. Geto." But there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I seem to recall you saying my hands were very good or something."

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she fumbled with her coffee cup, nearly sending it sloshing over the rim. "I did not say that."

"No? Must have been another patient then."

"Can we please pretend I never said anything about your hands?" She shifted in her seat, clearly flustered. "Or anything else that happened that day?"

"Show me your paintings and I might consider selective amnesia."

"Are you actually blackmailing me with my own embarrassing moments?" She leaned forward slightly. "I should sue you for violation of doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Please don't. I have enough lawyers breathing down my neck as it is."

"Oh, I know." Her lips twitched into a smile. "Your case files take up an entire cabinet at the firm."

"Now who's the unethical one?" I couldn't help but smile. "Pretty sure those files are supposed to be confidential."

"See the positive." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she propped her chin on her hand. Her sleeve slid down slightly. "I can help you. Though my rates are quite steep—one painting viewing equals one legal consultation."

"Brutal negotiation tactics. They're teaching you well at that firm."

She bit her lip, fighting back a grin. The gesture was distracting in a way I didn't want to examine too closely. Then, she wrapped her hands around her cup, leaning forward slightly. "Speaking of teaching, how's that research project going?"

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "Can we not? I'd rather hear about your law stuff."

"Oh god no," she groaned in return, slumping back in her chair. "Let's not talk about that either."

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea. Just endless stacks of papers and Chad being... well, Chad."

"Chad?" I raised an eyebrow.

"This awful intern who thinks he owns the place because his dad's some stupid partner. Like, today he tried to take credit for my research on the Yamamoto case, which, by the way, I spent three nights working on. And then he had the nerve to correct my citations in front of everyone, except he was wrong. He was completely wrong, and everyone knew it, but nobody said anything because, you know, his dad and everything—" 

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening as if just realizing she'd been rambling again. Her hands fluttered nervously around her coffee cup. "Sorry, I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"No," I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. "I like hearing you talk."

Her eyes met mine, startled. "You do?"

"Yeah. It's... refreshing, I mean hearing about anything that's not related to someone's blood and lab work." I traced the rim of my cup with my finger. "Is this Chad giving you trouble? Because I could always stop by the firm, maybe have a word with him."

She let out a startled laugh, then immediately looked embarrassed by how loud it was. A few other people glanced our way, making her shrink slightly in her seat.

"What, are you offering to intimidate him for me?"

"I can be quite intimidating when I want to be."

"That's a weird thing to say about oneself."

"You say way more weird things." I glanced at my watch and couldn't help but sigh. "Speaking of intimidating, I've got a class of overconfident med students waiting."

"Oh." She looked up. "Right, of course."

I should leave it at that. Get up, go back to work, stop whatever this is before it gets complicated. I have enough on my plate with the research, with Satoru acting weird, with everything else. The last thing I need is to get involved with—

My hand brushed against the crumpled paper in my coat pocket. That flyer some art student had thrust into my hands this morning at the campus entrance, just like they did to everyone else rushing past. 

"Actually, there's this art exhibition next weekend at the city gallery."

What the hell am I doing?

She blinked at me, her coffee cup frozen halfway to her mouth. "Are you... are you asking me to go to an art exhibition?"

This is stupid. I don't even like art exhibitions. They're crowded and pretentious, and I have better things to do with my weekend. Like work. Or sleep. Or literally anything else. I'm really not quite myself lately.

"I mean, if you want to. I don't understand much about art, but—" I rubbed the back of my neck. "If you show me what to look for, I'm sure I'll like it."

That sounded so lame. Why am I even doing this?

"You mean that?" she asked. "Because you don't have to pretend to be interested in art just because I—"

"I want to," I cut her off. "Besides, maybe you can explain to me why people pay millions for paintings of soup cans."

She laughed, that genuine, unguarded sound from the bar, and I was glad I hadn't thrown the flyer away. "Those are Warhol, and they're actually a commentary on mass production and consumer culture in—" She stopped herself, cheeks flushing. "And I'm doing it again."

"Saturday at 6?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Saturday at 6 sounds good."

As I stood to leave, the absurdity of the situation hit me. Here I was, voluntarily signing up for an afternoon of art appreciation. What was wrong with me? 

The closest thing to art in my apartment is that anatomy poster Satoru got me as a joke last Christmas. If he ever found out about this, I'd never hear the end of it. But somehow, I couldn't bring myself to care.

It wasn't until I was back in my office at the university, staring at a stack of research papers, that I realized something strange — I hadn't smoked since morning. My usual lunchtime cigarette break had come and gone without me even noticing. 

My pack sat untouched in my coat pocket. I pulled it out now, turning it over in my hands, and somehow I found myself oddly looking forward to learning about soup cans.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

The lecture went fine. It always did.

Talk about neurons, synapses, action potentials. Watch sleepy med students pretend to take notes while secretly checking their phones. Answer the same questions I'd answered a hundred times before. Rinse and repeat.

Now, hours later, I was back in the lab. The chaos from this morning had been methodically cleaned away. New solutions mixed, properly this time. Everything in its place, color-coded and labeled with my precise handwriting.

The lab was quiet at this hour. Just the soft hum of equipment and the occasional footsteps in the hallway outside. It was peaceful, in its own way. Or maybe just lonely.

I checked my watch — 5:47 PM. I should probably head home, but then what? Watch some mindless TV show? Read another research paper? Order takeout that would sit in my fridge until it went bad? God, when did my life become this predictable?

The solution in front of me turned the correct shade of blue this time. Finally. I made a note in my lab book, but my mind wandered. About Satoru's strange behavior. About her. About how she looked at Satoru like he hung the moon and stars just for her.

I pushed away from the bench so forcefully my chair squeaked against the floor. My hands were already reaching for my cigarettes before I made it to the window. The night air was cool against my face as I lit up, inhaling deeply.

This was exactly what I didn't need to think about. Not now. Not ever. Focus on the research. On the failed experiments. On anything else but the ache that threatened to consume me whenever I let my mind wander in her direction.

The cigarette burned down too quickly. I lit another one immediately. What kind of person fell for their best friend's girlfriend? What kind of friend was I to even—

No. Stop that train of thought right there.

The smoke curled up into the night sky, hoping it would carry with it all the things I couldn't let myself feel. All the words I couldn't say. All the moments I'd had to watch them together, pretending my heart wasn't being torn to shreds. I'm pathetic.

I exhaled another cloud of smoke into the night air. Maybe that was why I asked about the art exhibition. God knew I could use the distraction. From the research, from Satoru, from her.

And she — there was something in her eyes. That familiar look of someone drowning in circumstances they couldn't control. She needed a break too, probably more than she admitted. Maybe this Chad was partly responsible. Speaking of Chad—

I tapped my cigarette against the windowsill. It wouldn't be hard to figure out his real name. Law firms kept records of their interns, and with his father being a partner. One quick search in the hospital database and I could probably find something interesting in his medical history. Everyone had secrets. Maybe something embarrassing. Something that would make him think twice about—

What the hell am I thinking? I stubbed out my cigarette, leaving a black smear. Great. Now I'm contemplating abusing my position to dig up dirt on some spoiled law intern. Real professional, Suguru. Really living up to that ethical conduct seminar.

Though the thought of his smug face when he tried to take credit for her work—

No. Absolutely not. I'm better than that.

I lit another cigarette, trying to ignore how satisfying the idea was. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Saturday at 6.

At least that was something to look forward to. Something normal. Well, as normal as anything could be when you were a neurosurgeon voluntarily going to an art exhibition with a law student who was also your patient, technically. What did people even wear to art exhibitions?

My pen tapped against the lab book as my phone buzzed.

[2:34 PM] s&c reader: Need any help in the lab today? I can come in if you want.

[2:35 PM] Me: Just boring prep work left. Take the day off.

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.

[2:37 PM] s&c reader: You sure? I can help with the prep too.

[2:37 PM] Me: Rest. Doctor's orders.

[2:40 PM] s&c reader: I hate when you say that.

I found myself smiling at my phone, picturing her frustrated face as she typed that. She was probably pouting right now, hunched over her textbooks in the library, annoyed that I'd pulled rank. That stubborn set of her jaw when she tried not to admit defeat. Just like him.

The smile faded as quickly as it had come. I immediately set my phone down and took a deep breath. I should be thinking about the research. About tumor markers and treatment protocols. Not about my student who was probably still in the library despite my orders to rest.

No. Not about her at all.

I glanced at my phone again, fighting the urge to text her back. Focus, I told myself. Work. Don't do anything stupid. God, this day really couldn't get any more fucking frustrating. 

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

The lab was quiet.

I'd been at this for hours, my eyes straining in the bright light of the laminar flow hood, my back aching from hunching over the bench. The familiar chemical smell of ethanol lingered in my nostrils from the endless rounds of sterilizing equipment. 

I straightened up, rolling my shoulders in a futile attempt to ease the knots. A glance at the clock told me it was late, far later than I'd intended to stay. 

The steady hum of the cell incubator behind me had become white noise hours ago, punctuated only by the occasional click of the temperature regulator. I was exhausted, ready to call it a night. But I couldn't leave, not yet.

There was still work to be done, still samples to process. The micropipette tips rattled in their box as I reached for another one, the sound sharp in the empty lab. My stomach rumbled in response. 

I sighed, tugging the elastic from my hair and running my fingers through the dark strands before twisting them back into a loose knot. A few pieces escaped, falling around my face as I looked over to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. 

The sun had already dipped below the horizon, the last streaks of orange fading into deep purple. The campus was quiet, most of the other staff and students long gone for the day.

My stomach growled again, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since lunch as I returned to work. I weighed my options—power through these last samples and face my empty fridge at home, or brave the vending machine downstairs for stale coffee and a questionable sandwich—

Then I heard the door open behind me. I didn't turn, couldn't turn, my hands still buried in the fragile work, the pipette cool in my gloved fingers. But then I heard her voice, and my heart stopped.

"Suguru?"

God, how I wanted to turn to her, to drink in the sight of her. But I couldn't, not yet.

"Hey," I replied, my gaze still fixed on the vials before me. "Didn't expect you here today. Sorry, the fun part's already over." I completed the transfer, then turned to face her, a easy smile on my lips. But the smile died as soon as I saw her face.

I didn't respond immediately, too startled by her appearance. Even in the dim light, it was impossible to miss.

She looked small, fragile in a way I had never seen before. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks pale. She had been crying, that much was clear. She hugged herself tightly, as if she was trying to physically hold the pieces of herself together. 

Seeing her like that, so broken, tore at something deep inside me, something I hated, something fierce and aching.

"What happened?" 

The question was inevitable. But I already knew. There was only one thing, one person, that could make my pretty girl cry.

Her eyes were fixed on the floor, but I could see the tears welling up, threatening to spill over. "Can we work on something?" she finally asked, her voice small. "Please."

I hesitated, torn between the need to comfort her and the knowledge that it wasn't my place. "Do you want to talk about it?" I offered, even though I knew the answer before she even shook her head.

"No," she choked out. "I can't. I need—I need to focus on something else. Anything else. Or I think I'll fall apart."

I understood that feeling all too well. The need to lose yourself in work, to bury yourself in the familiar of the lab until the rest of the world faded away. But I hated that she felt it too, hated that he had driven her to this point. Hated him, with a fury that burned white-hot in my veins.

And the worst part was that I knew there was more, more that he was hiding from her. More lies, more secrets, more ways he was hurting her without her even knowing. And it made me want to scream, to rage, to tear him apart with my bare hands for daring to hurt her like this.

But I couldn't. All I could do was be here for her, in whatever way she needed me. 

"Please, Suguru." Her voice was pleading, desperate. "Can we just work?"

I hesitated for a moment longer, my gaze lingering on her face, taking in the vulnerability etched there. The urge to pull her into my arms, to hold her until the pain faded away, was almost overwhelming. But I knew I couldn't cross that line, not now, not like this.

Finally, I nodded and peeled off my gloves, setting them aside. I reached for her, gently undoing the tight knot of her crossed arms. Her hands were like ice in mine, trembling and fragile. I took one hand in both of mine, wishing I could take away her pain.

"What do you want to work on?" I asked softly, my thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand.

"The nanoparticles," she said, her voice a little steadier. "We still need to narrow down the potential materials and targeting ligands, right?"

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Anything you want."

Anything for you. 

The words echoed in my mind, a bitter reminder of the truth I could never speak aloud. I loved her, had loved her for longer than I cared to admit, but she was with Satoru. And no matter how much it hurt to see her like this, to know that he was the one who had caused her pain, I couldn't let my own feelings get in the way.

So I pushed them down, buried them deep, and focused on the work. On being the friend she needed, the partner she could rely on. Even if it meant ignoring the part of me that screamed for something more. Even if it meant watching her break, again and again, and being powerless to stop it.

We worked in silence for a while, the familiar routine of the lab providing distraction. For her. For me. She focused intently on the task at hand, her brow furrowed as she carefully prepared the samples. Like everything she did, with unwavering precicion.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, my heart aching at the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes. 

Time seemed to slip away as we lost ourselves in the work, the outside world fading away. I caught myself stealing glances at her, watching how her hair fell forward when she leaned over the samples. Every little gesture a knife to my heart. 

These moments were the hardest — seeing her so close, yet having to maintain this careful distance. Watching her push herself to exhaustion, knowing I couldn't hold her, couldn't comfort her the way I desperately wanted to.

I averted my gaze and glanced at the clock, just now realizing how late it had gotten.

"Hey," I said softly, breaking the silence. "It's nearly midnight. We should probably call it a day."

She looked up, blinking as if coming out of a trance. "Oh, no I have to finsish this first." She looked over to me and my stern gaze must have silenced her objections.

I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and touched her arm gently, ignoring the way my skin burned at the contact. "Come on. I want to show you something."

She followed reluctantly as I led her to the far corner of the lab, where our old microscope sat — the one we rarely used anymore since getting the newer models. I pulled out a worn slide from the cabinet.

"Remember this?" I asked, setting up the microscope. "From your first week here?"

She leaned in to look, and I had to force myself to step back. "Oh god, my first attempt at cell staining. It's horrible."

"Actually," I said, adjusting the focus, "look at this part here." I pointed to a small cluster of cells. "See how you managed to isolate that specific population? Most students take months to get that kind of precision. You did it on your first try."

She was quiet for a moment, studying the slide. A look I adored so much. And for a moment, the pain and hurt seemed to fade away. 

"You've got instincts that can't be taught," I continued. "That's why you're going to crack this nanoparticle puzzle too."

"You really think so?"

"I know so." I pulled out another slide. "Here, look at your work from last month. See how far you've come?"

She studied it for a moment, then shook her head. "It's still not perfect, the staining could be cleaner, the resolution better. I should be doing better by now."

"You're being too hard on yourself." Always chasing perfection, just like him. "You can't expect to master everything in a few months. Even Satoru took years to—" I caught myself, watching her shoulders tense at his name. Wrong thing to say. "What I mean is, you're already exceeding everyone's expectations. Except maybe your own."

She fell quiet, turning back to the microscope. I watched as she adjusted the focus. Finally, she straightened up from the microscope, turning to face me, and there it was — that spark in her eyes I'd grown to love, the one that made my heart stutter every time.

"We should try adjusting the polymer composition," she said suddenly. "Maybe if we modified the surface charge—"

I smiled, relief flooding through me at seeing that spark return. "Whatever you want to try. I'm right here with you. But tomorrow, okay? After a bit of sleep."

"Thank you," she said softly, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms above her head. A small yawn escaped her. "Sorry for taking up so much of your time. You must have been here for hours."

"No, not at all," I lied, watching as she rolled her shoulders to work out the stiffness. In truth, I'd been at the lab since dawn, but she didn't need to know that.

I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly racing. "You know I'm always here for you. No matter what."

We remained silent for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid crowded in my throat — how much I cared, how seeing her hurt made me want to tear the world apart, how every smile she gave me was torture.

"Come on," I said finally, breaking the spell before I could do something stupid. "Let's get out of here. I think we both need some sleep."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

Cold autumn air burned in my lungs as I pushed myself harder, feet pounding against the leaf-strewn path. A thick blanket of mist hung low between the trees on my usual morning run, though nothing about this morning felt usual.

I hadn't slept. How could I?

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. The way she looked so small, so broken. The tears she tried to hide. The trembling in her hands as we worked. The memory of those words made me stumble, my running shoes skidding on wet leaves, made my chest tight with something painful.

I picked up my pace, as if I could somehow outrun the guilt of my own thoughts. Because every time I saw her like this, a treacherous part of me whispered, I would never make you cry. I would never give you reason to doubt yourself. I would cherish every brilliant, imperfect moment.

Damn it.

I'm a terrible friend. To both of them.

The park was almost empty at this hour — just a few other early risers and their dogs. A jogger passed, giving me a brief nod. It was my routine, something that usually helped clear my head, but not today. Not when I couldn't stop thinking about how she looked last night, working herself to escape whatever he'd done this time.

What kind of man watches the woman he loves hurt like this and does nothing? Someone so passionate, so full of life, slowly dimming because he can't get his shit together—

Stop it. Stop thinking about her like that.

I stopped abruptly, hands on my knees, breathing hard. A cloud of vapor formed with each exhale, disappearing into the cold morning air. My t-shirt was soaked with sweat despite the chill.

This isn't my business. I've told myself this a hundred times. Their relationship, their problems — none of it concerns me. I'm just her professor. Her research partner. Just his friend. But friends don't let friends destroy the people they claim to love.

And I can't keep pretending I don't see what's happening. Can't keep watching her slowly break apart while he—

Before I knew what I was doing, I was heading back to my car. To hell with my day off. To hell with staying out of it. I've watched this play out for too long, kept my mouth shut for too long. Sorry, Satoru. But we need to talk.

I stormed through the university hallways, my footsteps thundering off the walls, still in my damp training clothes that clung uncomfortably to my skin. The lab door was ahead, and through the window I could see him.

Satoru was sitting in his chair, staring blankly at the whiteboard where incoherent scribbles were scattered, just like yesterday.

In two strides, I crossed the room and grabbed the back of his chair, spinning it around to face me. He looked awful — pale, unshaven, his hair a mess. The sharp scent of coffee couldn't mask something else on his breath. His eyes were bloodshot. I didn't care.

"What the hell did you say to her?" I snapped.

Satoru didn't even seem surprised by my presence. "Wow, that's a pretty broad question, don't you think?"

"Cut the bullshit, Satoru. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He glanced up then, one eyebrow arched, that infuriatingly casual look I'd seen a thousand times before. "Damn, Suguru. Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?"

Something snapped inside me. Before I could think better of it, I was there, hands gripping the arms of his chair, caging him in. Close enough to see the muscle working in his jaw. "I'm gonna ask you this one time and one time only. What happened between you two?"

"Wow, you're really close." He glanced pointedly at the narrow space between us, but I caught the way his fingers tightened on the armrest. "We had a disagreement, that's all," he added, his tone dismissive.

"A disagreement?" The laugh that escaped me was harsh. I pushed away from his chair, turning so I wouldn't have to look at him. My hand scraped roughly across my face, trying my best not to take a hit on him. "She was in tears, Satoru. She could barely get the words out."

He didn't answer. Just straightened up, brushed imaginary dirt from his lab coat. Then he was on his feet, moving past me to the whiteboard as if I wasn't even there. As if we weren't having this conversation.

He picked up a marker, adding to the chaos of scribbles already there — equations that went nowhere, diagrams that made no sense.

"God, would you just—" I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "You can't just ignore this, Satoru."

His knuckles went white around the marker. For a second, I thought he might actually turn around and hit me.

"How long are you gonna keep doing this to her?" I pressed. "Until she breaks completely?"

"You think I'm not aware of that," he muttered, still facing the board.

"Then fucking stop. If you can't treat her right, just let her go."

That got him. He spun around, eyes hard. "Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

I blinked, taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Satoru laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Come on, Suguru. Don't act like you haven't been waiting for this. Waiting for your chance."

"That's not—" The words stuck in my throat. "This isn't about me."

"No?" He took a step closer. "Then what is it about? Why do you care so much?"

"Because she deserves better than this. And you know it."

"Better? You mean like you?" His lips curled into something cruel. "Too bad she's not yours to care about, huh? Even though you think you'd be so much better for her than me." He tilted his head, eyes cold. "Funny, isn't it? She doesn't want you, even knowing how bad I am for her. What does that say about you?"

The words hit like a physical blow, each word a serrated edge twisting in my gut. It took everything in me not to grab him by the throat. "You're being a dick."

"And you're being a lying piece of shit. When were you gonna tell me?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "About how you feel about her?"

"This isn't about me," I repeated through gritted teeth. "This is about what you're doing to her."

"You don't know anything about us."

I stepped closer, close enough to see the shadows under his eyes. "What happens when she finds out the truth, huh? When you're passed out in some hospital bed? That how you want her to learn about it?"

Something flickered in his eyes — pain, maybe guilt — but it was gone in an instant.

"Stay out of it," he said, his voice cold. "Just... stay out of it."

He turned back to the board. I watched him, this man I'd known my whole life, suddenly feeling like a stranger.

"What happened to you?" I asked quietly.

He didn't turn around. "Yeah," he said, his voice heavy. "Guess we'd all like to know, wouldn't we?"

I watched him scribble new, illogical equations on the whiteboard, this stranger wearing my best friend's face, and for a moment I saw echoes of who we used to be.

Late nights in the university library, surrounded by towers of medical textbooks. Satoru falling asleep on his notes, drooling on diagrams of the nervous system while I threw paper balls at his head to wake him up. The way we'd quiz each other until sunrise, high on caffeine and the shared dream of becoming surgeons.

Our residency years, which were nothing but brutal and endless. Sleeping in on-call rooms, stealing each other's coffee, covering for each other when we were dead on our feet. Learning to navigate the maze of hospital politics together. 

The rush of our first successful surgeries, the crushing weight of our first losses.

Even when things got bad, when the pressure started getting to him, when the pills became more than just a way to stay focused during exam season, he never shut me out completely. He'd show up at my door at 3 AM, shaking and sweating, and I'd let him in without a word. We'd sit in silence until the sun came up, until he could breathe again.

I was there through all of it. The interventions, the relapses, the promises to get clean. The nights when he'd call me, voice slurred, talking about how he didn't know how to go on. I'd talk him down, drive across town to pick him up from whatever hole he'd crawled into. 

We were brothers in everything but blood.

But now—

Now he stood there, shoulders rigid, adding meaningless equations to an already chaotic board. The gap between us felt wider than the few feet of lab floor. When did that happen? When did we stop being able to tell each other everything?

Was it when she came into our lives? When he fell in love with her? When I—

No. It was before that. The distance had been growing for a while, so gradually I hardly noticed. Like watching someone drift away on an outgoing tide, too slow to notice until they're already too far to reach.

The marker squeaked against the whiteboard. The sound grated on my nerves, like everything about him did these days. His secrets, his dismissive attitude, the way he kept everyone at arm's length while slowly self-destructing.

"Do you remember," I found myself saying, "that night in our second year of residency? When that kid crashed on my table?"

His hand stilled on the board.

"I was a mess afterward. Convinced I'd missed something, that it was my fault. You came to my place and we sat on the floor until morning, going over every detail of the surgery until I finally believed that I couldn't have saved him."

He didn't turn around, but I saw his shoulders tense.

"What happened to us, Satoru?"

The marker dropped from his hand, clattering against the metal tray. The sound echoed in the quiet lab.

"I don't know" he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm tired of it all."

We stood there, two people who had once finished each other's sentences, now unable to find the right words. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating, filled with twenty years of shared history that suddenly felt meaningless.

I wanted to grab him, shake him, make him see what he was doing to himself. To her. To us. But I stayed where I was, the distance between us feeling more insuperable by the second. 

This strange, hollow feeling in my chest — was this what growing apart felt like? This gradual realization that the person standing before me, had become someone I didn't recognize?

But the details were still there—the slight crook in his nose from that basketball accident in high school with him, laughing it off even as blood dripped onto his jersey—the white line across his knuckles from that fight behind the gym, my own fists aching as I pulled him away—the small scar above his eyebrow from when we tried to climb that tree in sixth grade, both of us sworn to secrecy, telling our parents we fell off our bikes. 

Every mark told a story I could recite in my sleep, yet somehow, they all added up to someone I didn't know anymore. Like looking at a familiar photograph that had been subtly altered — all the pieces were there, but the picture was wrong.

My best friend, my brother, the person who knew me better than anyone — when did he become such a stranger? When did our comfortable silences turn into this suffocating void? 

The thought sat like lead in my stomach, bitter and cold, as I realized that sometimes knowing every scar on someone's skin doesn't mean you know what's beneath it anymore.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c and r&r reader)

Days blurred together in a haze of surgeries and lectures. 

I went through the motions, my hands steady as ever in the operating room, my voice clear during presentations. To anyone watching, I was the picture of professional composure. But inside? I don't know.

I thought I was doing a decent job of holding it together until one of my students approached me after a practically grueling morning lecture. The young man clutched a stack of papers, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Dr. Geto, about my thesis proposal—"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand, not even looking up from gathering my materials. "Email me to request thesis mentorship. I'll review your proposal and get back to you."

"Oh... you're, ehm, already my thesis advisor. We had an appointment scheduled for today."

I froze, finally looking at the student—really looking at him. Recognition dawned slowly, followed by a wave of shame. Takada Jun, one of my most promising students. We'd met twice a month since the semester began. Damn it.

"You're right," I said. "Sorry, can we reschedule?"

I was better than this. More professional than this. But lately, everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

The research lab was closed for the week—a "cooling off period," Yaga had called it. I knew what it really meant. We were all too volatile, too raw from recent events to work together effectively. So I went home early, something I never did.

My apartment felt emptier than usual, the silence pressing in from all sides. I tried reading, but the words swam before my eyes. I attempted to eat, but everything tasted like ash. Even my usual evening cigarette was bitter and harsh in my lungs.

My thoughts kept drifting to Satoru, wondering what he was doing, not if he was using, only what cocktail of pills he'd chosen this time. The math was easy enough—one to stay awake, two to fall asleep, three to numb the edges, repeat as needed. I'd seen it too many times before.

I crushed out my cigarette, watching the ember die. I reached for another only to find an empty pack. Figured. I should go buy more, knew I'd need them if I let myself think about her, about them. But I didn't want to leave the apartment, couldn't put on real clothes.

My only glimpse of light was the art exhibition on Saturday. The thought of it made something in my chest loosen, just slightly. I pulled out my phone, staring at our last exchange of messages before typing out a new one.

[6:45 PM] Me: Should I pick you up for the exhibition?

Her response came quickly.

[6:47 PM] Attorney: Let's meet there. I might be running late from a study group.

[6:47 PM] Me: Sounds good.

I hesitated, then added.

[6:48 PM] Me: Looking forward to it.

[6:49 PM] Attorney: Me too :)

A small smile tugged at my lips. For a brief, ridiculous moment, I wondered if I should bring flowers. The thought made me pause, my hand reaching automatically for my cigarettes before remembering the empty pack. What the hell was I doing?

This was wrong on so many levels.  She was my patient. Well, technically Satoru's patient. And young—god, she was so young. And I was... what? A mess of a man carrying a torch for someone I could never have, trying to fill that void with someone else? I was not sure.

My mind kept drifting back to that night at the bar. The way she felt pressed against me in that dimly lit bathroom, her skin warm under my touch. The soft sounds she made when I slipped my fingers inside her—God, I shouldn't be thinking about this.

This was getting pathetic. Still. Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

I was late. Damn it, I was so late.

The emergency surgery had gone longer than expected—a complex arteriovenous malformation that refused to behave. By the time I closed, my hands were cramping and my neck was stiff from hours of hunching over the microscope. But the patient would live, and that's what mattered.

Still, as I rushed through the hospital parking lot, yanking off my scrub cap and shoving it in my pocket, I couldn't help but check my watch again. Two hours late. Shit. I'd texted her updates throughout, but still. Two hours.

The art exhibition was being held in some converted warehouse space downtown. Even from outside, I could see the warm light spilling onto the street through the large windows, hear the soft sound of voices and clinking glasses. I paused at the entrance, trying to catch my breath and compose myself.

That's when I spotted it—a small splash of red on my shirt sleeve, barely visible but unmistakably blood. Perfect. Because showing up late wasn't bad enough, I had to show up looking like I'd just walked off a crime scene.

I quickly shrugged my jacket back on, tugging the sleeves down to cover the stain. It would have to do.

She was standing alone near a large abstract painting, wine glass in hand, studying the canvas. Even in a room full of people, she seemed somehow apart from it all. The sight of her there all by herself felt like fingers wrapping around my heart.

"I am so, so sorry," I said as I approached, placing my hand on her lower back.

She turned, and the smile that lit up her face made my stomach flip. How could she look at me like that when I'd kept her waiting for two hours?

"Hey, you made it!" She didn't sound angry at all. If anything, she seemed genuinely happy to see me. It only made the guilt weigh heavier in my chest.

"I'm really sorry," I repeated, because apparently that's all I could say. "The surgery took longer than expected. There were complications and—"

"Did you save them?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the directness of her question. "Yes."

"Then stop apologizing." She took a sip of her wine, her eyes twinkling. "Besides, fashionably late is totally in right now."

"Two hours isn't fashionably late, it's just rude."

"It's your job," she said simply. "Saving lives tends to take priority over art exhibitions."

I watched her for a second longer, unsure how to react. "Have you been here alone this whole time?"

"Yeah, but it's fine," she said, waving off my concern. "I've actually had time to explore everything properly. Plus, the wine is decent."

Guilt twisted in my stomach. I pictured her wandering these halls alone, checking her phone for my updates, making awkward small talk with strangers. For two hours.

"I really am—"

"If you apologize one more time, I swear I’ll spill this wine on your jacket. And you know me—I don’t need much of an excuse to be clumsy." Before I could respond, her eyes narrowed, focusing on something near my collar. "Is that?"

I followed her gaze to where my jacket had shifted, revealing the telltale red stain. Damn it. I quickly tried to adjust my jacket, but she caught my arm, stopping me.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I'm a mess. I should have gone home to change first, but I didn't want to be any later than I already was."

"Hey," she said, leaning in conspiratorially, "if anyone asks, we'll just tell them it's paint. I mean, we are at an art exhibition. Who's going to look too closely?"

Despite myself, I laughed. "You'd make a terrible witness in court, you know that?"

"Good thing I'm going to be a lawyer then, not a witness." She grinned. "Come on, I want to show you my favorite pieces. And maybe we can find you a painting with enough red in it to stand near. You know, for cover."

I let her lead me through the gallery, and I found myself placing my hand on the small of her back. It was an unconscious gesture, one I immediately second-guessed, but she leaned into the touch slightly. So I let my hand stay where it was.

"You're not still feeling guilty about being late, are you?" she asked suddenly, glancing up at me.

"Maybe a little."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, stop it. Although—" She pretended to think for a moment. "You could make it up to me by buying me another glass of wine."

"Done," I said immediately. "Although maybe I shouldn't be encouraging drinking."

"Oh, now you're being a doctor again?"

"Force of habit."

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine, wrapping around me like summer rain. Dangerous, how easily I could get used to that sound. She led me further through the gallery, linking her arm through mine, chattering away about everything and nothing. 

It was fascinating how much she knew—not just about the art itself, but about the whole scene. She'd point to a painting and launch into stories about the artist's infamous feuds with gallery owners, or how someone's entire series was inspired by a bad breakup with another artist three rooms over. 

She knew every bit of gossip, every drama. Which curator was sleeping with which artist, which pieces were painted during mental breakdowns, which collections were secretly commentary on messy divorces. She made the plain white walls of the gallery come alive with her stories.

"Oh, and that guy over there?" She nodded discretely towards a man in an expensive-looking suit. "He's actually—"

I caught myself staring at her again, watching the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, the subtle changes in her expression as she moved from one story to the next. The way she'd lower her voice when sharing particularly bits of details, leaning closer to me like we were sharing secrets.

It was strange. I never knew that art was so... fun. Her excitement was contagious, and I found myself being pulled into her world without resistance.

"You're not even looking at the painting anymore," she accused, catching me staring at her instead of the canvas she was discussing.

"Sorry," I said, trying to focus on the painting she'd been discussing. "You were saying something about the use of negative space?"

She launched back into her explanation, describing techniques and influences I barely understood. But there was something captivating about her, the way she could find something fascinating in every piece, even the ones she claimed to hate.

I couldn't help myself. I had to ask.

"Why law?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What?"

"You're clearly passionate about art. You know all these techniques, all this history. Why aren't you studying art instead of law?"

Her smile faltered slightly. "We've had this conversation before, remember? Stability, good career, making my parents proud—"

"But that's what your parents want. What do you want?"

She was quiet for a moment, her fingers playing with the stem of her wine glass. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost resigned. "It's not that simple."

"It could be."

She looked up at me then, something flashing in her eyes that might have been anger. "Says the successful neurosurgeon who followed his passion."

"That's different—"

"Is it?" She took a sip of wine and pulled her arm away from mine, the loss of contact unexpectedly cruel. "You chose medicine because you loved it, right? Because you couldn't imagine doing anything else?"

I thought about Satoru, about following his lead into neurosurgery, about all the complicated reasons behind my choices. "It's... not that simple either."

"Exactly." She gave me a knowing look. "Life rarely is."

We stood there in silence for a moment, both lost in thought. Around us, the gallery filled with the white noise of clinking glasses and polite laughter.

"I'm sorry," I began. "I shouldn't have said that."

She shook her head, loose strands of hair catching the light. "No, it's... you're not wrong to ask. It's just complicated." She paused, staring into her wine glass. My parents worked so hard to put me through school. Dad worked double shifts at the factory, Mom cleaned houses on weekends. They saved every penny they could."

"They were so proud when I got into law school," she continued, her voice softer now. "You should have seen their faces. Dad actually cried—I'd never seen him cry before. They threw this little party in our apartment, invited all the neighbors. Mom made this huge spread of food even though I know they couldn't really afford it."

She smiled at the memory, but there was something bittersweet in it. "They see law school as this—this ticket to a better life, you know? This chance for their daughter to have everything they couldn't give themselves. How could I tell them I'd rather spend my days covered in paint?"

"They sound like good parents."

"The best," she agreed. "That's why it's so hard. Every time I think about changing paths, I remember how much they've sacrificed. The hours they worked, the things they went without. Dad's still picking up extra shifts to help with my expenses, even though I tell him not to."

She turned to look at a nearby painting, but I could tell she wasn't really seeing it. "Sometimes I calculate how much they've invested in my education, down to the last yen. It feels like a responsibility, you know." A pause. "So I'm—acting. Playing dress-up in these fancy suits, pretending to care about corporate law and international trade agreements. But it's okay."

Her story settled like lead in my stomach. Here I was, someone who'd never had to watch his parents sacrifice anything, presuming to give advice about following dreams. And suddenly, I felt almost ashamed of my own privilege. 

I grew up never wanting for anything. My parents had well-paying jobs and valued education above all else. Private tutors, college prep courses, academic summer programs—they spared no expense in paving my path to success.

When I decided to go into medicine, my biggest concern had been whether I was doing it for myself or just following Satoru's lead. Not whether I could afford it. Not whether it would drain my family's savings.

I'd never had to work during university. Never had to count pennies for textbooks. Never had to weigh the cost of pursuing my dreams against my family's needs. The academic world had been my playground, every door already half-open. I feel so dump.

Sure, medical school had been demanding. The long hours of study, the grueling residency, the constant pressure to excel—but I'd never had to wonder if I could afford to chase my passion. Never had to choose between my dreams and my family's financial stability.

I lived in a nice apartment, drove a decent car, could afford my vices without a second thought. And here she was, brilliant and passionate, having to bury her dreams because she couldn't bear to waste her parents' years of hard work.

Looking at her now, in this gallery surrounded by art she understood so deeply, I could see the weight of those unrealized dreams in the way she held herself. In how her eyes lingered on each painting a bit too long, like she was trying to capture a piece of what could have been.

"I hope you get to paint someday," I said finally, the words feeling inadequate. "The way you want to. Not just alone in your apartment, but really paint. Show your work. Be the artist you clearly are inside."

She looked up at me, surprise flickering across her face. Then her gaze dropped to her wine glass, her fingers tightening around the stem. A strand of hair fell forward, and she pushed it back with unsure fingers.

"I mean it," I continued, resisting the urge to brush that stubborn strand of hair back myself. "Besides, who says you can't have both? Practice law until you're stable enough to pursue art. Or find a way to combine them—art law is a thing, isn't it?"

"You're awfully supportive, for someone who barely knows me," she said quietly, the words half-muffled by her wine glass.

"Is that such a bad thing?"

She shook her head, blinking rapidly. "No, I just... I'm not used to people understanding. Everyone else just talks about being practical, about growing up and facing reality. Like art is somehow childish."

The last words came out bitter, and without thinking, I reached out to touch her chin, tilting her face up to meet my gaze. Her skin was warm under my fingers, and I could feel her pulse flutter at the contact.

"Art isn't childish," I said firmly. "Neither is wanting to pursue something that you're passionate about. That's actually pretty brave."

Something shifted in her expression then, a softness I hadn't seen before. We stood there for a moment, her eyes locked with mine. That's when I finally realized I was still cupping her chin, my thumb absently brushing against her skin. I quickly dropped my hand.

"I really want to see them." The words slipped out before I could stop them. "Your paintings, I mean." 

It felt too intimate, too presumptuous. Like I was asking to see more than just her art, but something deeper, more personal. But she just smiled, a real smile this time, reaching up to tuck that persistent strand of hair behind her ear.

"Okay," she said. "If you promise not to judge too harshly."

"I already know they're great," I said softly, surprising myself with how much I meant it. "I don't know much about art, but I know they're great because you painted them." Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the caller ID.

I took an instinctive step back from her. "I'm sorry, I need to take this," I said, already bringing the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

There was silence on the other end, just soft breathing that I knew too well. Then, "Suguru?"

Something in her voice made my chest tighten. She sounded—lost. Different from her usual self. Gone was that fierce confidence, that spark that made her so much like Satoru. Instead, she sounded small, fragile.

"Hey," I said softly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just—" A pause. "I don't even know why I'm calling."

Someone laughed loudly behind me. She must have heard it through the phone because she hesitated. "Sorry, are you out somewheret? I don't want to—"

"No, no," I said quickly, probably too quickly. "It's fine. Really. Talk to me. What's going on?"

I was painfully aware of the her standing nearby, pretending to study a painting while obviously trying not to listen. I caught her eye briefly, gesturing that I needed a moment. She nodded, with an understanding in her eyes that somehow made it worse.

I quickly made my way to the entrance where the coats hung, seeking somewhere quieter. She was quiet for so long I thought she might have hung up. Then, in a small voice that didn't sound like her at all, "Is he okay?"

I didn't need to ask who she meant.

"He's okay," I said, even though I wasn't really convincing either of us. "You know Satoru. He's managing."

A soft laugh, maybe a sob. "That could mean anything with him."

"No, really. He's okay," I lied. "I'm keeping an eye on him."

A pause then, "I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

"No," I said. "You're not being stupid. You're in love." The words hurt to say, but they were true. "That's never stupid."

Another shaky breath. "I shouldn't have called. You're out, and I'm here just—"

"Hey, do you need me?" I cut in. "I can bring you something. Coffee? Food? Those terrible convenience store onigiri you pretend not to like?"

That got a real laugh, albeit a watery one. "No, I'm... I'm actually at Maki's. She dragged me out. Said I needed to stop rotting in my apartment."

"Good. That's... that's good." I ran a hand through my hair, not quite believing her. I knew her too well by now, knew she was probably curled up alone in her apartment, just as I knew she knew I was lying about Satoru being okay. Strange, how we'd both gotten so comfortable with these little deceptions. "But the offer stands. Anytime."

"Thank you, Suguru." Her voice was softer now.

"Yeah," was all I could manage. I closed my eyes, pressing the phone harder against my ear as if I could somehow keep her there longer.  Each second of silence felt like another chance to say something, anything, to make this right. But what could I say? That I was sorry? That I missed her? That I thought about her every damn day?

"I should let you get back," she said. "To wherever you are. Sorry for—"

"Don't apologize. Not to me. Never to me."

I took a deep breath, briefly pulling the phone away from my ear because I couldn't trust my voice not to say what I desperately wanted to. Don't go. Stay on the line. Let me fix this. But I had no right to ask that of her. Not anymore. Maybe never did.

After we hung up, I stood there in the gallery's entrance, frozen. Around me, couples laughed and gathered their coats, heading out into the night. The door kept opening and closing, letting in bursts of cold air inside, reminding me I needed to move, needed to go back.

When I finally made my way back to her, she was studying the same stormy seascape from earlier. She didn't turn around immediately, giving me a moment to compose myself. Maybe it was some sort of kindness on her part.

She didn't ask about the call. Didn't question my sudden disappearance or the tension I knew was in every fiber of my being. Instead, she just glanced at me with a small smile that somehow made everything both better and worse, and said, "I think we've seen everything. Should we head out?"

The relief nearly knocked me sideways. "You sure? There's still the upper floor—"

"Please," she said. "I've been here for hours. I could probably give tours at this point."

I watched her gather her things, struck by how carefully she was moving around the weight of what had just happened. Like she understood something about me that I hadn't expected her to grasp. 

"You're awfully understanding, you know that?"

She looked up at me. "Something we have in common, it seems."

We walked to the exit in silence. I helped her into her coat, her fingers brushing mine as she adjusted her collar. Outside, the night air was sharp with the bite of early autumn. She pulled her coat tighter around herself.

"I can call you a taxi," I offered.

"Actually," she said, "I think I'll walk." She looked up at the sky, where a few stubborn stars managed to shine through Tokyo's light pollution. "It's not far, and it's a nice night."

"Not a chance," I said, already pulling out my phone. "It's late."

"I'm a big girl, you know. I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can," I replied, already dialing the taxi company. "But humor your doctor, will you?"

She rolled her eyes but didn't protest further. While we waited for the taxi, she stood close enough that I could smell her perfume, something light and floral, while I tried to ignore the guilt for leaving the exhibition early, guilt for being late, guilt for enjoying myself despite everything else.

"Thank you," I said suddenly. "For tonight."

"No problem, doc," she said with a warm smile. "Next time, maybe we can finish looking at the art."

"Next time," I echoed, like a promise I wasn't sure I should be making. The taxi pulled up, its yellow light cutting through the darkness. I opened the door for her. 

She turned before getting in, looking back over her shoulder. "Oh, and Suguru?" The use of my first name sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. "Don't overthink everything tonight, okay?"

I watched the taxi disappear into the flow of traffic, its red taillights blending with all the other lights of the city. Only then did I pull out my cigarettes, lighting one with slightly shaking hands. The night felt colder without her presence.

I took a long drag, watching the smoke disappear into the night air, then started walking in the opposite direction, no real destination in mind, just a vague hope that if I walked long enough, the conflicting feelings churning inside me might fade away. 

The city lights blurred around me, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the last trains of the night rumbling through their stations.

Next time, she'd said. 

God help me, but I was already looking forward to it.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — hello again! i hope you enjoyed this chapter from suguru's pov. i'm sorry for the lack of updates lately, university life and low motivation can be a real challenge. but i'd love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a comment or send in a message. i love to read them <3

& i hope his pov didn’t break your heart too much, especially with his and satoru’s spiraling friendship. also, this chapter ties back to ch 14 of symptoms and causes, for those who are following along.

pls consider subscribing to the story on ao3 or turning on notifications for my blog for furute updates (i've given up on taglists, to be honest).

and as always, thanks for reading, and i wish you all the best, whether you're reading this in the middle of the day or late at night :))

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 – 𝟓𝟎

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘: 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

⤲ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤲ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐀𝐔, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

⤲ 𝐰𝐜: 𝟑.𝟑𝐤 (not proofread)

⤲ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

"How is it going boys?"

Heeseung's voice is shaky and a lot hoarser than just a few moments ago, as the thought of finally doing what he's been daydreaming of for the past decade is actually about to become reality.

His eyes nervously roam the now fully decorated rooftop, the warm june breeze making everything a lot more bearable and for the first time in about twentyfour hour he feels like his lungs are actually filling with oxygen.

He knows you're not going to say no, it's something you've both discussed way too many times for people who have only been officially together for less than a year, yet the excitement, anxiety and feeling of being overwhelmed has definitely taken over his whole body in a way he's barely able to handle.

The thought of actually wifing you up, the way he's been joking around with it for all these months, is becoming way too real and for a short moment he can't help but wonder if it's really the right time.

But with your new apartment's keys in his bag and the contract signed, his new job as the department manager for one of Seoul's biggest companies secured and you both being so sure about it, he simply doesn't see the point in waiting any longer.

In fact, he's never been as sure about basically anything as he is about proposing to you.

"We're all set, Seung", Soobin, one of his coworkers and closer friends responds calmly, "just send us the message and we'll blow this place up."

"Stop saying it like that or we're going to get arrestedd,you stupid bitch", Yeonjun, the team's former number seven responds and for the first time in about thirty minutes Heeseung actually bursts into laughter.

As soon as those two hang up, the soon to be fiancé' turns around to look at his childhood friends who have decided to celebrate the evening with a beer, both of them meeting their best friend's gaze and shooting him two big smiles, reminding him just how grateful he is to have a found family like them.

And as your boyfriend is currently busy with something you have absolutely no suspicion of, you're thanking the people from the catering service for their hard work as you send them home with all the leftovers, trying your very best not to gag at combined smell of fish and beef.

Jungwon hasn't left your side all night, no matter how many times you've tried to get rid of him to avoid anybody's suspicions or just questions, your best friend has simply refused to do just that.

"When are you going to tell him?"

He says and looks at you with his pretty eyes, cheeks slightly flushed from the few glasses of wine he's had already and as your brain processes his question, you can't stop your lips from stretching into a big smile.

When you first realised just how much time it had been since you had last gotten your period, you didn't think much of it. Mostly because you've been used to the irregularity ever since you had started taking the pill a few months back and even before that your body was prone to skip a week or two whenever life got a little too stressful.

If it wasn't for the morning sickness you'd been feeling these past few days, you would have never thought of a possible pregnancy for another two months.

The walk to the pharmacy and back home as well as the whole process of taking the test had quickly become the longest hour of your life and as soon as the second line on your first test had appeared, your whole life changed in an instant.

By the time the third one came back positive as well you were already a sobbing mess as happiness, excitement, anticipation but also fear, worry and shock slowly took over your body.

For a really short moment you even let your anxiety take the best of your thoughts, yet as soon as you remembered your most recent conversation about the future, life after graduation as well as marriage and children, you managed to get rid of everything that wasn't joy or excitement.

You never once worried about your boyfriend's reaction because despite skillfully hiding it behind jokes and dirty talk, you know how badly Heeseung's been wanting to become a father from the very beginning. He never even tried to be subtle about it, all he did was wait for you to feel ready and even if you hadn't actually planned for it to happen until your own graduation, you're still just as excited and subconsciously ready for it as you would have been if it happened two or three years later.

Lee Heeseung is the love of your life, the man you you dreamed about ever since you actually understood the concept of love and there's absolutely nobody in this world you could ever imagine as the father of your children other than him.

And after a night of celebrating him and his best friends like this, you're pretty sure it's the perfect time to let him know about your upcoming addition to your little family.

"Hoonie said everyone's going to go up to the rooftop because the boys are setting up some blankets and stuff and I thought maybe I could make Seungie stay here with me for a bit and tell him when you're all upstairs."

Jungwon attentively listens to your plan, his smile as big as ever and you can't help but tear up at the sight of pride in his bright eyes. You've never seen him this happy and to think that he's actually going to move to Seoul and therefore be here throughout your whole pregnancy instead of having to wait three years until he finishes his degree makes it a lot more difficult to hold yourself back from crying.

Never in a million years would you have ever expected your first year away from your old life to be so perfect, yet despite all these years of abuse and agony, you've finally reached a point where life feels good and every day you wake up grateful and happy. The patience and hard work has definitely paid off.

"That sounds great", Jungwon says and pulls you into a tight hug, knowing you both will actually burst into tears if you look at him any longer, "but you should join us first and then take him downstairs. Wait for everyone to settle down or it'll be too obvious."

With a sharp nod you agree with your best friend, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before you let everyone know that you'll be with them in a bit, taking absolute advantage of your empty apartment as you finally pull out the little onesie in Heeseung's favorite color and the little #01 on its back as well as one of the positive pregnancy tests from your closet and allowing yourself to take a few deep breaths.

However, it doesn't take long for you to feel slightly overwhelmed because despite having realised it all already, you know telling your boyfriend about it is going to make it even realer than it currently feels, which is why you decide to try and distract yourself just a little longer by joining everyone upstairs.

You don't exactly know what to expect as you breathlessly and slowly climb the stairs to stop yourself from passing out, yet the last thing you expect is for the floor to be covered in rose petals as a road of little candles lights the way for you.

"What the–", but you don't get to finish as your favorite love song suddenly starts playing and all of your friends start cheering loudly.

It takes you a good minute to spot your boyfriend at the end of said candle way, holding onto a bouquet of your favorite flowers for dear life, his perfect lips stretched into a wide smile, eyes glossy and cheeks slightly flushed.

You don't even realise what the hell is going on and that you haven't moved an inch yet, until your best friend tells you to and with a thick veil of tears blurring your vision you finally start approaching the man of your dreams.

And as you slowly walk towards him, Heeseung can feel his heart thrumming in his throat, the blood rushing through his ears to the point where every single noise seems to ne way further sway than it is until you come to dtand right in front of him.

With a shaky hand he reaches for you and guides you to stand in front of your friends, your brother watching you with excited and proud eyes and if it wasn't for all the emotions you're currently feeling, you definitely would have noticed a single tear finding its way down his cheek.

"Park Y/N", Heeseung says calmly once the volume of the music slowly goes down, his voice shaky and everything about his demeanor gives away just how nervous he is, "my first and only love."

And as soon as those words hit you straight in the face, you physically can't stop a tiny sob bubbling up from your throat, genuine happiness and adrenaline making its way through your system at the realisation of what this actually is.

"Over a decade ago I fell in love with you, your warm heart and kind soul, those perfect eyes and your sweet smile. There has never been a day I didn't think of you and holding your hand right now still feels like a dream", your boyfriend's words are genuine and honest, something you've gotten used to yet still can't really process no matter how much time passes.

You try to calm yourself down once you notice the nervousness in your boyfriend's facial expressions, holding onto his hand just a little tighter before he hands you the bouqet and slowly moves his hand to reach for something in his back pocket.

"I've thought about this exact moment ever since I really understood what love meant and not a single time in my life have I associated it with anyone but you." With his smile still as big and bright, you attentively watch the love of your life pull out a little jewelry and just when your hands find their eay to your mouth, Heeseung slowly steps back to finally get on one knee.

A sight so beautiful you're genuinely afraid you might be dreaming.

"You're my childhood, my youth and my whole life. You're my home. Everything I have, everything I am belongs to you, including my heart and I want to spend the entirety of the rest of my life to become a man you can love and be proud of, who's worthy of your presence in his life."

At this point nobody among you and your friends can actually hold back their tears and for a short moment your gaze shifts to your older brother, who has been trying his best to keep it together but decided to finally give in at the sight of his two favorite people loving each other so dearly.

"Will you please make one of my biggest dreams come true and become my wife?"

Heeseung has lost count on how many times he's changed his lines and how many times he's practiced different versions of this exact speech in his head, in front of the mirror and under the shower. At one point he even started practicing it in front of the two elderly ladies at the company's cafeteria, yet at the end he still decided to just go with what his heart has to say.

Something he's never had problems with when it comes to you.

And as you slowly start nodding your head with tears streaming down your cheeks, he swears the whole world starts spinning in slow motion.

One of his biggest dream has finally become reality, a realisation hitting him so hard he actually forgets to move.

But there's no need for him to because by the time his mind catches up on what just happened, you've already thrown your arms around his shoulders with a soft sob multiple "Yes"s, quite literally pulling him back into reality.

The following minute is filled with nothing but silence from the both of you as you hold each other and take in the warmth of the happiness oozing from your shared moment.

Heeseung, who's basically overwhelmed with joy, drops on both of his knees as he's holding you in his arms and tries his best to keep his cries at bay.

And once you pull away to let him put the ring on your finger, the sudden sound of fireworks going off startles you in the best way possible, yet also elicits another soft cry from your lips.

"I told you I'm going to wife you up", Heeseung chuckles and places a soft kiss on your lips, his big hands holding your face like you're a piece of glass, so fragile he's afraid you'll break if he's too rough.

"And I told you I'm always ready for it."

Those words earn you a literal standing ovation from all of your friends, cheering and hollering from all of them exceot your brother, who's still as quiet as ever, yet never once stops to smile.

Heeseung doesn't hesitate to back away from you as soon as he spots Sunghoon approaching the two of you from the corner of his eyes and before either one of you can say something, you're pulled into another tight hug.

A hug which holds so many emotions, so many memories and so much love, you actually feel yourself drowning in it all in the best way possible.

"Congratulations", Hoonie whispers softly, too afraid of the possibility his voice might break if he spoke too loudly, "I'm so happy for you, little one. You deserve this and so much more."

At this point your pregnancy hormones and all those pent up emotions from the past few years have decided to team up, so you basically stand no chance in forming a coherent sentence which actually makes sense. All you can do is cry in your brother's arms as the realisation of you both finally living a life of peace and harmony has become true.

After a round of hugs, even more tears, from both the boys and the girls, as well as a fit of loud laughter because of Jongseong's random comment, you spend the following ten minutes in the arms of your new fiancé, your eyes either fixated on his face or the ring on your finger.

By the time you hug your brother one last time, it's way past two am and you can feel the exhaustion and tiredness taking over every bit of your body, yet know there's still a very important thing left to do for you.

After a nice long shower, the two of you quietly get ready for bed, Heeseung's hand always somehow touching you, a habit he's picked up along the way and you still giggle whenever you remember the reason being his mind not comprehending that you're actually here and his, so he had to make up for it with skinship.

"I actually wanted to fuck you to sleep just like you deserve but I'm afraid we're both too tired, hm?", Heeseung whispers into your ear as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his strong chest into your back.

"Mhm", is all you can say as your heart slams brutally against your rib cage at the thought of the upcoming few minutes.

You don't even notice the way Heeseung's hand has found its way up your chest to your neck and as soon as he feels your rapid heartbeat, you find yourself being turned around to face your slightly worried fiancé.

"What's wrong?"

The question is the first one to come to his mind, something he's yet to get rid of since it's more of a trauma response than an actual question.

"I have to tell you something, Seungie."

"We've been engaged for less than two hours, please don't tell me you wanna call it off", he breathes and throws his head back, leaving you absolutely flabbergasted.

"Oh, my God", he suddenly says a little louder than you expected and with big eyes you watch him fall to his knees, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his head against your belly with a faux cry.

"Please, don't leave me, I'd be nothing but the shell of a man." And those words basically give you the rest. With a loud, ugly chuckle you push your hands into his hair and start shaking your head, knowing he's not serious but still reassuring him.

"Give me a second, will you?"

With curious eyes Heeseung slowly pulls away and watches the way you walk to your side of the bed and slowly oulling out a little box, bigger than the one for your ring he carried in his pants the whole night, before you make your way back to him with your grip way too tight.

"Open it", you say softly and try to drown out the loud beating of your heart in your throat, the feeling of having to throw suddenly overwhelming you and with a soft sigh you try to calm yourself down.

Seungie doesn't say anything as he takes the box from your hand and does as he's told, lifting the lid and revealing your little present to his big, glossy bambi eyes.

"What..."

A beat of silence follows the single word before he reaches for the pregnancy test and stares at it for way longer than necessary.

You have no idea what's going on inside of his head and for the first time ever since you've found out about your pregnancy you're actually anxious about his reaction.

What you're not awarenof is the way Heeseung's brain has yet to process what the fuck he's looking at, meanwhile his chest has filled with a warmth so comforting and calming, it actually feels dizzying.

You're pregnant.

You, the one woman he's loved all of his life, his now fiancé, are pregnant with his child.

The realisation feels like an actual dream and without giving it another thought, Heeseung lands a harsh slap against his own cheek to see if he's awake.

As the sting of his sweet attempt spreads in his face, the tears have already blurred his vision and with a single one finding it's way down his cheek he looks up at you.

"Oh, my God", a breathy chuckle of disbelief leaves his lips just before he gets up to be on eye level with you, his big hands reaching for your face to press your forehead against his and you still feel unsure until a row of soft sobs start filling the tension in your shared bedroom.

"We're actually going to be parents?"

All you can do is nod, choking on your own tears making it eay too difficult to respond verbally.

You've never seen this particular expression on Heeseung's face and as it reaches his pretty eyes you realise it's nothing but oure joy and excitement, maybe even a hint of relief.

"We're actually going to be fucking parents."

And as he gently wraps his around your body, Heeseung feels a wound in his heart slowly healing, a wound so deep he had managed to suppress it's pain all these years.

"This is the best day of my life", he whispers and inhales your sweet scent, his hand subconsciously moving to rub over your belly, "thank you so much. Thank you for healing me. Thank you for seeing me worthy of your love. Just – Thank you."

Heeseung doesn't give you the opportunity to respond as he pulls you into a passionate kiss, knowing everything he failed to voice out is going to reach your heart through this one kiss.

Not many words are exchanged between the two of you until you're burying your face in his neck, your eyes heavy from the exhaustion of the day, yet Heeseung makes sure to be the last one to speak just before you fall asleep.

"I love you so much. My first and only love."

(A/N: i'm not going to say much bc ive cried so much already and gotta save it for the epilogue injust hope you guys enjoyed this one and know how much i love and appreciate all of you. thank you for making this journey unforgettable and so, so special.)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @thvhannie @enhaz1 @kpoprhia @abrazosolorcereza @deobitifull @mixtape-racha @certifiedmoa @jungwon-xo @hoonieluv @enhamysunshines @jaehoonii @pussyslayerhd @ineedsomezzz @neocockthotology @heerinnie @onionzzzs @hee-pster @3amstarlight @xxxxrvexxxx @primroselover @mimikittysblog @iea-tsand @lhspeachie @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @smg-valeria @kells5595 @heeseunghee7 @xrvrqs @ddazed-lhs @heebrry @fakeuwus @dammit-jjk @ivyannemarie @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @s00buwu

[accirax]

Project: Eden's Garden Chapter 1 Trailer Analysis

Oh my god it's actually time.

As I'm sure you've heard by now, Team Eden's Garden has finally announced the release date for the fangan's true first chapter: December 20th. And, they did so in a flashy new trailer, which is nearly three minutes long! Naturally, there's a lot of content baked in to those three minutes, so I'm here to take a look at what was flashing by in those rapid-fire montages, as well as make predictions regarding what will happen at the first Class Trial. This will be fun!

And here's hoping I don't run out of images 🤞

The trailer begins with the "mascot" (in this case, Tozu) saying that it's been far too long since we last conversed. Classic.

Next, we see a preview of some locations, both new and old. CAM04: Dorm Hallway and CAM24: Tree of Ignorance were already explorable areas within the Prologue, and CAM08: Damon's Dorm was visible in the Ch1 demo released last year(?). The new locations include CAM32: Hallway A1, CAM35: Pharmacy A1, and CAM39: Pharmacy A5.

(By the way, I'm going to assume that both the numbering of the cameras and the time displayed in the lower right have no particular meaning, because I can't find any connections between them. At first I thought it was weird that Damon's dorm was Camera #8 despite him being 9th in alphabetical last name order, but given that the hallway is Camera #4, I don't think there's a correlation).

While all of the images are intentionally blurry, I'll do the best I can to describe what we can see. The most obvious point of interest is the door at the back of the hallway, under which "CAUTION" is written in big red letters. It also seems that there might be blood dripping down the door, which, if true, would match with the other blood splatter on the floor near the bottom right of the screen. It definitely gives the impression that something happened here before, and that that something was bad. There's also a grate on the wall that's splattered with red, but given that blood is pink in the DR universe, I'm assuming that's rust.

The pharmacies are very interesting to me. First of all, there are two of them. What kind of establishment needs two separate pharmacies? I guess you might if the pharmacies are as different as the two pictured. One looks more like an old-fashioned office or science classroom (it kind of reminds me of v3's Ultimate Detective Lab, honestly), and the other like a scientific research facility. A pharmacy is defined as "a store where medicinal drugs are dispensed and sold," so perhaps Pharmacy A1 is for selling and Pharmacy A5 is for creating?

The "A" in these tags could stand for "area," but they more likely stand for "alpha." At the end of the Chapter 1 demo (watch Weeby Newz's video on it if you want the same level of info I have), the students are about to go through the lowercase "alpha" door in the Tree Room to explore a new area. These three areas are almost certainly behind that door-- perhaps with the checkered pharmacy being room #1, and the blue pharmacy being room #5?

It's also possible that the entire area is considered "the pharmacy," and is dedicated to the production of medicine. But, whether that's the case or not, I have to ask, "why?" Out of all the things they could have put into this falsified Eden's Garden Academy, why make two rooms dedicated to creating drugs? Why potentially make up to five rooms dedicated to creating drugs? With very little information regarding the overarching plot of Eden's Garden, it's hard to determine why. The only connection I can make offhand is that this may have been the origin site of the drugs used to knock everyone out on the train.

I do find it very interesting, though, that this is not just a location in the school, but the very first one we're discovering. Normally, I'd think that places like these, which aren't that conducive to students hanging out (like a pool or recreation center) would be reserved for future chapters. It may imply that drugs and/or poisons are a necessary component of the Chapter 1 murder. We'll see!

Our first of the rapid-fire CGs! This one shows Kai pointing at something within a fancy pink room. There's a canopy bed dressed with pink cloth, some floral-looking wallpaper, and two small paintings of what also appear to be plants on the wall.

Given the appearance of Damon's room earlier in the trailer, I find it likely that this is not a new location in the alpha corridor, but instead, someone's room. There are many pink colored characters in P:EG-- Diana, Toshiko, and Kai himself-- as well as Cassidy, whose character color is close to pink, and Ingrid, who has pinkish hair. Of the main three options, I'm guessing that this is probably Kai's room.

People have been quick to diagnose this as a potential BDA image. If that's true, I acknowledge that this being Kai's room would be a wild choice, because it would mean that someone other than Kai was found dead in Kai's room. It would be a THH parallel, though! I just think that it's likely to be his because, well, he's in there, and all of the references to flowers seems fitting for his butterfly motif. However, Toshiko's kimono does have flower patterns on it, and flowers also match up with the ~romance~ of the Ultimate Matchmaker. If this is Kai providing a BDA in Toshiko's room, though... maybe Toshiko isn't dodging those first victim allegations.

If it's not a BDA, though, what is Kai pointing at? Imagine if it's just a spider or something, lol. He does look pretty worried, so perhaps this could be the arrival of something like DRDT's custom weapons? If a weapon suddenly appeared in my room a the killing game, I'd be kind of worried. It could also be a mysterious note, as (spoilers) we're about to see a few of in this trailer.

One cute(?) thing to mention is that, if this is Kai's room, it likely means that Kai was willing to invite Damon into his room to check whatever this is out. That could mean that they're friends! It's not cute if this is actually a BDA. It's also not cute if Kai is becoming Damon's friend just so that it hurts more when he dies in Chapter 1 :(

Woah, it's a note! (/j)

This and the image directly before it in the trailer seem to be of the same thing: a piece of paper that says "to Damon Maitsu" on it. Or, it's possible that the first one just says "Damon Maitsu" and this one says "to Mr. Maitsu"-- they look a little different, although the handwriting seems identical. I don't think there's any paper conspiracy for me to crack here.

To my memory, the prologue included some flashback CGs, so I would imagine that's what's happening here, unless Damon actually kept his Eden's Garden acceptance letter on his person (possible). It could also be a new letter that Damon receives during the course of the killing game if, as I posited, Kai was pointing out a letter he received in his room.

And furthermore, more note content? Why is this hypothetical piece of paper more visible in the trailer than Toshiko?! (/j)

Or, maybe it isn't. This note seems to read, "Meet in [???] at 8:10 p.m. tonight [???] Damon Maitsu." Due to the spacing of the words-- namely, that it doesn't seem like there's much more to this message beyond what we can see-- this paper appears to be pretty small. Combined with the color, I predict that this note is, in fact, sticky. And therefore, not the same as the piece of paper (which also has a different ink color) as the other note.

Further extrapolating from the spacing, the note looks like it's signed "-- Damon Maitsu". Otherwise, there would need to be a word before Damon, the end of which has no letters tall enough to appear next to the D. (It's LGI's "Ms. Naegi" crisis all over again... /ref) If so, that means that we might have an example of Damon's handwriting on our hands! Or the handwriting of someone who was trying to impersonate Damon :/

I wish we had a better lead on where this note was telling folks to meet up, but it's way too vague.

Then, yet another piece of paper! It's definitely different than the yellow one, and probably different from the signed one as well, due to being typed and not handwritten. Then again, sometimes typed letters have a handwritten signature at the bottom, so it's not impossible.

This text's formatting reminds me of how scripts are normally written: both the font and the center alignment are used in standard scriptwriting formats. I actually at first thought that everything after "beneath a" might have been spoken by a character whose name starts with L, but that would mean that their dialogue starts with a lowercase letter. Plus, names on scripts are usually written more like this (imagine it's centered):

LINDSAY beneath a [shoulder] If only [head]

in the sense that the character speaking's name is in all caps. There appears to be a lowercase i after the capital L, so it's probably not a name.

Still, that begs the question of why the top line is so much shorter than the one beneath it. In a normal passage, all of the lines would have relatively even margins other than possibly the last one. Could the wonky spacing be indicative of a poem, or something else written in verse? Due to the script/poem idea, I'm inclined to believe this belongs to the ever-dramatic Tozu, but I could be wrong.

Next is another CG, depicting Damon, Cassidy, and a sneaky Jean in the background. Based on the shape of Damon's ahoge, we can tell he's a little annoyed or flustered by whatever Cassidy is pointing at.

The wallpaper pattern we see in the background is that of the Dining Hall. Do NOT ask me how I remembered this offhand, because I don't know.

Furthermore, based on the wall being to the characters' left, it's likely that they're standing on the left side of the room. (It's possible in reality that it could be anywhere else in the room in front of the wallpaper only, but based on cinematography rules I won't bother explaining this is probably the case.) So, what is Cassidy pointing at? It could be the fireplace, the painting of the jackal, or the vent. Or, obviously, something new that appears in the Dining Hall in Chapter 1.

Based on my theories that the vent will be involved in the Chapter 1 murder, I'm inclined to believe that it might be what Cassidy's pointing out. If that's true, it means that she (and Jean) (and Damon) is dodging the Chapter 1 victim allegations! However, given that the characters are looking upwards, unless they're on the floor, it's probably not actually the vent. Maybe it's something on the fireplace mantle?

Also, based on straight vibes and nothing else, I don't think this is a serious CG. It might just be that it reminds me of v3's casino CG, but I kinda feel like Cassidy is just trying to teach Damon a game while Jean watches, or something. Projector on the Dining Hall walls? "It's more likely than you think," I lie.

The next six images consist of three spooky screenshots of what seem to be some sort of database which say "Ultimate" (and a picture of Damon), and three zoom-ins on what I believe to be paintings found around the school.

The only one I found of particular note was this one, which sort of looks like two people getting married? Both figures seem to have light skin, and the one in the white dress might have some shoulder-length red hair. Cassidy marriage arc??? I can't imagine what context this photo/painting/CG would appear in, but it might be important.

After that a few illustrations depicting the killing game's rules flash by. I won't be uploading all of them because 1) you can probably guess at most already if you're familiar with DR/fangans, and 2) I think these might have been shown in the demo anyways. To sum up, I think the rules can be attributed as such:

Tozu is in charge (and/or participation in the killing game is mandatory)

No destroying school property, with a focus on cameras and NG bracelets

You can't kill/injure Tozu or Mara*

Students can become the blackened by killing

Once a dead body is found, it's time for a Class Trial

... The same thing again? Oh, maybe #5 was about how to trigger a BDA, then.

Um...

Okay, actually, I don't know what this one is. Is this saying that you can't rip paper, or you'll get executed? As in, papers that Tozu gives you? Dude, maybe my "Tozu gives the students mysterious letters" theory actually had some merit to it!

If not that, could this be something about breaching contracts? The Prologue did mention "registration materials" that Damon presumably signed. Those could have been a cover-up for a real waiver the students accidentally accepted. Or, maybe this is the big reveal that all of the characters are actors in a scripted performance. In Chapter 1? Yeah, probably not.

*Technically, only Tozu (who stands between Mara and the student) has an X over him, which could imply that it's only illegal to harm Tozu. However, it's likely that, when the rule is revealed in the e-Handbook, the graphic will cycle between Xs on Mara and Tozu, or something else to that effect. It would be interesting if the rules don't protect Mara, though. I'd imagine the in-universe explanation would be "see what happens if you even TRY to hurt Mara," but that would absolutely feel like a rule intended by the writers to be broken in the future.

I'm sure someone could do a super in-depth analysis of the religious implications of this painting, but that person is not me. All I will say is, "these are the animals of Mara and Tozu." Oh, and, based on the next image, this painting is located in Pharmacy 1.

New locations! Like I alluded to above, the first image is definitely of Pharmacy 1, and I think the second is too.

The third is a bit harder to decipher. We've got a glowing photocopier with an Eden's Garden Academy logo on it, a tiled floor, many green cabinets, a medical kit, and lots of vines. I wonder if this might be a third pharmacy that functions more like a doctor's office...? I don't know what the photocopier is there for in that case, though. I'm assuming that the location behind Jett in the fourth image is in the same room due to the similar green cabinets, and the fact that you can see a similar first aid kit on the wall behind him. If that's the case, there's also a sink in this room. That's not helping me either.

After that, we have a shot of Jean with a proposition in the Dining Hall, some general purposes art which I think we've seen before, and a slick 3D animation with Damon catching a fallen apple. What do they have in common? I don't have much to say about any of them.

Free Time time! Or, at least, I'm assuming that Ulysses' part is part of his first FTE, given that it was packaged in with all this other stuff. With this, we can conclude that Ulysses, Wenona, and Wolfgang will all be available for at least one FTE in Chapter 1. I am very curious about that in general-- with this first chapter release, will we immediately be able to view all of everyone's FTEs? Or will they cap everyone off at, like, two for now? Unfortunately, there's no way for me to answer that now.

The other three images are more intriguing. The first definitely shows Damon's gift inventory, with the Black Forest Cake being highlighted. The interesting bit is all of the chibi pixels to the side, with positive and negative arrows by some of their heads. At first, I thought that P:EG might be going for something like SDRA2's ambitious FTE system, where characters have positive or negative opinions on you based on actions you take and gifts you give. However, on further thought, I bet that this is an in-game way of telling you who will like which gifts. As far as I can tell, many people either look up which gifts to give which characters or save-scum until they get something right, so taking guessing out of the equation is probably a good thing. Plus, now we know that Diana, Jett, Toshiko, Mark, Wolfgang, Cassidy, Desmond, Eloise, and Kai like cake; Grace, Ingrid, and Wenona don't; and Damon, Jean, Ulysses, and Eva are neutral. It's an extra good system if it gives us insight into Damon as well!

The second is surely P:EG's equivalent of the Monomono Machine, with Damon receiving a zen garden from the funky hourglass contraption. The interesting part to me is that the currency is named Marabucks instead of Tozubucks. Yay for inclusivity? Also, I think it's fun that the percentage reads "1,13%" instead of the standard American "1.13%". (And P:EG seems to be, on the whole, an American-coded game, given that the majority of the characters speak in American-accented English and the cast's live appearance was in Texas.) Gives you a little behind the scenes peek at who was coding this section of the game :)

The last thing... uh, what? It seems to be a Pong-like minigame, probably used to earn bonus Marabucks. You bounce the "orbs" through the "pachinko" to... I guess score points against Mara and Tozu? And, probably if you do well enough, you get varying levels of money. Perhaps I spoke too soon, and the Marabuck is simply the lesser Tozubuck.

Up next comes some dramatic zoom-ins through those spiffy remodeled locations. I appreciate them jazzing up the "outdoor" area specifically; the lack of polygons in the doorway arch always bugged me. Even if they kept those similarly unbeveled shapes in the archways to the side... (/lh)

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...

WE GOT SCENES FROM THE CLASS TRIAL?!?!?!

To clear the elephant in the room, as everyone has been reporting, Toshiko is the only student who can't be seen in the Class Trial at all. Does that mean she's dead? Uh, probably not. As part of a mystery-writing team, I would have to imagine that whoever crafted this trailer would be smart enough to know that their mystery-loving fans would comb through whatever they're given for answers (hi 👋). And, if there's one to be found, they'd find it. Therefore, I'm more inclined to believe that Toshiko's absence is an intentional red herring. Then again, this is very possibly the P:EG team's first time writing a fangan, so if they didn't think about things like that, it would be understandable.

So, who is dying if everyone else is present? To me, there's a big gulf between how easy it would be to fake someone's participation in the Class Trial. Subbing out a death portrait for a regular sprite is easy, recording a fake line of dialogue is a bit more effort, and creating original artwork is really not worth the effort. Thus, we can divide the characters into tiers.

ORIGINAL ART (basically guaranteed safe) Damon, Wenona VOICE ACTING (very likely to be safe) Diana, Grace, Wolfgang, Jean, Eva SPRITE VISIBLE (possibly most endangered) Mark, Desmond, Kai, Ingrid, Ulysses, Eloise, Cassidy, Jett TOTALLY ABSENT (reverse psychology safety???) Toshiko

Damon's unique minigame sprite and Wenona's Rebuttal Showdown art appearing over his face should also squash the rumors that Damon will be replaced before the first Class Trial at least, lol.

Within those tiers, I also want to highlight two outliers: Wolfgang and Eva. Because, of course it's those two.

Although Wolfgang is in the voice acting tier, in reality, I'd say he should be moved upward into the "basically guaranteed safe" tier. This is because his line is shown in Nonstop Debate format as opposed to the regular dialogue format. Although his lines don't have the animated word art thing going on, I still imagine that it would be easier to create a fake line in the regular dialogue boxes than in the minigame. Also, notice that I said lineS. Wolfgang also has two lines, and unless the team is really yanking our chains, I can't see why they would create two fake lines when one would surely suffice.

Meanwhile, while Eva is in the voice acting tier, she's bordering on the "possibly most endangered" tier. It may just be my "Eva could die first" bias speaking, but her line is a whole lot shorter and less specific than Diana's, Grace's, or Jean's. In fact, if you remove the comma, "obviously the case" could easily be one of her stock dialogue lines that plays over unvoiced portions of the Daily Life. If the team were to create a fake piece of dialogue for the Class Trial, sneakily repurposing a line that already exists for other purposes would be the most efficient way to do so.

Expanding on that, what is "obviously, the case" supposed to mean here? I'll once again draw attention to that comma. Grammatically, it's not that some truth is "obviously the case," but that the case is the thing that's obvious. In what context is Eva saying that, though?

Jett: Uhhh, sorry, what are we supposed to be focusing on again...? Eva: Obviously, the case.

Or, could a physical case, like a briefcase, be relevant to the murder?

Grace: But what could the killer have used to fucking store a disguise?! Eva: Obviously, the case.

The only thing I'm remembering offhand that could be a physical case is the medical kit, but obviously there are plenty of locations and props for this Chapter we haven't seen yet. At any rate, Eva's dialogue raised a flag for me. So, I'll be scrutinizing any cases we may see or any pre-Trial words Eva speaks when the Chapter comes out.

Also, Diana and Grace might be a bit safer than Jean and Eva because what Grace is saying seems to be a response to Diana. They both mention peace, and Desmond is striking the same pose in both of their shots. I doubt that the P:EG team would either record Diana expressing the same sentiment that someone else actually expresses, or come up with a fictitious response from Grace that doesn't actually exist. If you want to get really nitty-gritty about it, consider that tier as ranking Wolfgang as the most safe, then Grace, Diana, Jean, and then Eva :)

Under the dual assumptions that Toshiko is a red herring while Eva's dialogue is genuine (such that both of them are safe), though, who's the most likely victim from our "sprite visible" tier?

Well, the only victim option left from my Chapter 1 Killer/Victim theory is Kai. Fan-favorite first victim choice Cassidy is also on the table. Otherwise, I could see Ulysses, given that (if he's not the mastermind) he gives BIG victim energy with his notetaking becoming a central aspect of solving his Trial. I'd expect they'd save a gimmick like that for a later Trial, where it could better be used to shake up the status quo, but I could see it as a good intro case too. I could also see someone taking Desmond out if they were afraid of his weapon-wielding capabilities, although that's... kinda backwards thinking. Desmond's capability to kill is scary if you're trying to kill him, but it doesn't offer much in the Class Trial.

Still kinda convinced it's gonna be Eva, but I'm aware enough to recognize that's probably just the stubbornness of wanting to believe that my old theory was true.

Speaking of old theories coming true, can we rewind for a moment?

Jean: ...but, I'd rather be suspected than be the reason this trial comes to a standstill.

Hey. WHAT.

For anyone who hasn't read/forgot about the Chapter 1 victim/killer theory I just linked, in that post, I argued my case for why Jean would be our unexpected Chapter 1 killer. Needless to say, when I saw this, I screamed.

What does this MEAN?!?! Full disclosure, I was pretty convinced that the Jean!killer theory would either be, like, 100% on the money, or laughably incorrect to the level of accidentally misinterpreting Jean's entire personality or there not even being a hint of suspicion thrown on his name throughout the entire case. To see Jean acknowledging others' suspicion of him in the TRAILER has me reeling.

Assuming that this line isn't fake (which also guarantees that Jean isn't the first victim), this means that there will be a point in the Trial at which Jean will be suspected as the blackened. The line itself could easily be something that a sympathetic and honest spotless would say, or something that a blackened could say pretending to be just that, so we don't get any hints there. What reason would Jean have to be suspected if he isn't the killer? Why and how would anyone choose to frame him? But also, would the P:EG team really want to have their players go into the first Trial already primed to believe that Jean could be the blackened based on the trailer? I feel like this line was included as a cruel (/lh) trick on me specifically, but my theory wasn't nearly infamous enough to warrant that kind of attention.

It's absolutely going to be eyes on Jean for me when the first Chapter comes out. I'm so curious to see the context surrounding this quote. Did I actually call it early? Or will the "evidence" that I stacked up actually prove to make Jean a believable bait, but not the real blackened? (wouldn't be the first time :P /j)

Moving on, there's a very dramatic scene of Tozu looking over the Trial grounds, while Damon looks back. I double checked, and everyone is visible (in silhouette form) in this shot, which makes sense as it was likely created solely for this spoiler-free promotional material. In my mind, the only clues we can pick up here are that Damon is further cementing himself as the true protagonist of this story. He also blocks out Wolfgang as he looks at Tozu...? Could have symbolic significance, but could also just be a result of the pair being opposite each other in the Class Trial seating.

After that is another fast-paced montage. The first screen is the same shot of the Pharmacy table. I don't know why they put repeat info in here, but as far as I can tell, all of the props and textures and whatnot are the same. If my assessment that the murder would utilize the Dining Hall vent is wrong, I wonder if this could be a hint that Pharmacy A especially will have significant meaning-- possibly, as the site of the first BDA. That being said, they also repeat the same image of the photocopier ivy room as the third image in this montage. So, if that's the case, it means both locations will have to be highly relevant.

I feel like this image out of context looks really NSFW. I promise, that was not my intention...

Anyways, this is from the Prologue BDA.

It's Cara's doll legs, as is made extra apparent by that same cylindrical thing in the back. I'm not sure if this was put here because the Prologue case will continue to be really relevant to Chapter 1, or just because they wanted a BDA-looking thing for the Trailer yet didn't want to put in a spoiler one. Based on the different size/shape of Cara's thighs (now I feel NSFW /j), there is a slight possibility that what's shown in the Chapter 1 trailer is (an image of) the real Cara's body as opposed to the doll. However, we know that some sprites and backgrounds have been redone during the hiatus, and that could extend to Cara's art as well.

This knife is also from the Prologue BDA.

You think you're so clever, P:EG team, don't you...? (/lh)

Can you believe the students are going to investigate area alpha in Chapter 1? Or maybe this is Damon telling me I'm wrong about that, haha.

Hey, they rigged a 3D Tozu model! It's looking good. I'm sure they're glad that Tozu's mask meant that they don't have to make a whole mouth rig for the guy, lol. My guess is that this model will be used for Tozu's "punishment time" animation, the equivalent of Monokuma hitting his button with the mallet.

The last thing of note in this trailer (other than the release date) is the Chapter's splash art! The full version was posted to Twitter, which I'll be showing for clarity's sake.

“Strange that one minor event, one small action, can alter the path of everything.”

... You gotta start dodging these allegations better, Cassidy.

Chapter promo art predictions are always a tricky game when it comes to predicting who will die. On the creator's end, I'm sure you don't want to draw additional attention to your first deaths by spotlighting them in the artwork. But, if you want to highlight some of the most important characters of the chapter, that'll often include the victim and/or killer if the Daily Life is well-crafted. Plus, especially for early deaths like these, if you don't put them in the chapter art early, you'll never have to chance.

But, forget all that. Who's actually shown in the poster? Obviously, Damon, Jett, and Cassidy are, but I believe that Wenona's jacket and hair are shown to the left of Damon? If you squint, you can also make out what might be Ingrid's arm on his right. That would be consistent with where he's seated in the Class Trial. Yeah, and then that weird blob behind Wenona is actually Jean and Eva!

See what I mean? Well, if we have 7 characters on the poster, maybe it's not so suspicious for any of them after all :D

And, really, it's 8 characters. I imagine others have made this connection already (even if I haven't personally seen it), but... that's a chameleon wrapping its way around Damon. AKA, Diana's animal motif. That means that Diana is more or less on this poster as well!

As the literal framing device of the Class Trial, the chameleon makes this poster reek of Diana being the Chapter 1 killer. However, even that feels too obvious, at least to my highly-scrutinous eyes. Then again, if this was just supposed to communicate that Diana will be important, why not just put her on the poster...? I really don't know what to make of it.

And... yeah, December 20th! I'm super excited!!! While we're certainly not in a drought of in new and exciting fangans nowadays (read Danganronpa: One Shot here!), productions of this scale-- especially playable ones-- are few and far between, so I really hope that this first Chapter lives up to the hype. I'm pretty sure I'll have more to say about this fangan in a few weeks, so I'll see y'all then for Project: Eden's Garden's true beginning!

...

(Honestly, after all this time in the DRDT fandom, it's just crazy to me that we're going to learn about the victim and killer at basically the same time... (/lh))

[the-kr8tor]

Sending a req for zombie apocalypse au like you asked!^^ (Crow anon but I aint signing hehe) I have two ideas for some fluffiness (if you wanna use em!) so I'll lay em out here- 1. As I mention in my daily hobie hc, you try to call his name but you can't get to him- maybe, we'll go 180 here and you manage to get to him/he remembers you, and its like a reunion sorta thing OR 2. You both are zombies and are maybe revisiting places you've had dates before- (wink wink abandoned building date wink wink) Silly fluffy zombie stuff

Yeess zombie au!! I chose the second one! And surprise surprise, it ended up being angstier than I thought it would be lol thank you for requesting! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW gore, TW death, CW blood. Zombie AU, Angst.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Amidst the haze of death and the fog of rot, Yuri finally finds you. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of your sunken eyes and grotesque infected bite on your neck. Her trigger finger shakes as her scope roams around your bloodied clothes. Drying black splotches of blood marring the familiar jacket you always wore. A sob breaks through her body, tears blurring her vision, she finally found you but it's too late.

She's too late.

Yuri whispers your name, and you stumble out of the dilapidated record shop like you heard her. Out comes another familiar form after you, leather jacket all torn up, jaw unhinged and numerous bites along his leg. Yuri almost screams his name, Hobie. Her hopes are dashed at the sight of his undead body following you. She thought that he would be alive at least, that he's surviving somewhere, but she knows that he can't survive without you. That's probably why when Yuri moves the sniper scope downwards, she sees your hand bound with his. A rope around your wrist and Hobie's, tying you to him, tying him to you. It says everything, it tells a tragedy.

She hoped and wished that she would find her friends after the world ended, hell, she even readied herself that she would find them without a breath in their decaying lungs. But not like this, never like this.

You both shamble off into the streets, as if you're holding each other, as if you're both still breathing, hand in hand, like how she always sees you both. Yuri hesitates to pull the trigger. She remembers everything, from how you laughed at her joke, from how she met Hobie to the last gig with you two before the world went to shit. She misses you both, truly, she would always wake up wondering where you two ended up amidst the chaos. She even relished the thought of not knowing, her mind making up situations of where her friends would be.

Yuri has no idea how to tell Ned.

Her walkie-talkie cackles on her chest, the unmistakable voice of Ned sounds out on the roof she's perched on. “Yuri?” He asks, voice tired.

Yuri clears her throat but the tears still come. “I'm here.”

“Good, uh, I know we're looking for supplies but you know the drill. If you see any signs of Y/N and Hobie—”

“I'll tell you, I know.” She knows Ned's spiel already, it has been almost two years of trying to find you two, two years of Ned saying the exact same sentence. Two years of scavenging the city and the only sign you two have left was Hobie's guitar left on the floor of a pharmacy. That was six months ago. Two years of hope, two years of longing to find you both alive and well. And now that she has, she has no idea what to do now. Especially that you're husks what you and Hobie used to be.

The walkie-talkie cackles to life again. “...okay, thanks. No sign of them on my end.”

Yuri looks through her scope again, following you and Hobie shambles into the old pub where everyone in the band frequents before everyone got separated. Then she realizes, you were both going into places where you two used to go to. The record shop was where you met the rest of the band, where Hobie introduced you to them. She remembers how shy yet excited you were to meet them, and she remembers how Hobie held on to you like someone in the band would shoo you away. No one did, everyone else welcomed you with open arms. That was almost ten years ago now. Yuri wishes she could go back, but she can't.

Every place leads back to the past.

She weeps alone, gloved hand covering her mouth so the noise wouldn't attract the horde below.

Yuri has the urge to come down from her perch to take a good look at you and Hobie. But she knows that she wouldn't be able to pull the trigger once she sees your still intertwined hands closer. She hates herself for not being brave enough to come and say goodbye to her friends, she hates herself for not telling Ned the truth. She hates herself for not finding the both of you sooner.

As the sun sets and the undead below groans lowly, teeth clacking against the other, chomping into nothingness. The sobs Yuri let out has subsided, yet the heaviness in her chest stays. She wonders how long it'll stay.

Seeing movement inside the pub, she looks into her scope to spot you two walking out. For a moment her eyes betray her, she sees you both alive and well, clean clothes on your back, smiling at eachother and hands intertwined like always. Yuri blinks and all she sees is death.

With a deep inhale, she follows you and Hobie throughout your ‘day’. Ignoring James’ and Ned’s calls, she jumps from roof to roof, sniper tied on her back, and mind imagining that it's a regular day for you both. That maybe in your mind’s eye, that you're having a date with Hobie, that maybe in his mind's eye that he's taking you out for a nice day out after a hard week.

She hopes that's the case.

Yuri always thought that there's always a semblance of somebody's life left in them once they turn. You walking into the empty grocery store with Hobie in tow proves it. She wonders if there's a cure, she could possibly bring you both back to life. But the gaping hole in your neck and the angry wound on Hobie's leg says otherwise.

Jumping to another dusty roof, you and Hobie are a lot closer to her now. She could see you both clearly, she wishes she doesn't. From just one good look at the injuries littered around yours and Hobie's rotting flesh, she surmises that her friends have only been dead for two weeks.

Yuri fights a sob from breaking out of her aching chest. She was too late, her mind racing to all the what if’s. Shaking her head, she sees you two wander off to the pier. And she immediately knows where you're going. As you both disappear behind broken boats, Yuri jumps off the roof with a practiced landing. Barely making any sound or letting her knees take the brunt of the fall. A tear escapes when she remembers that she learned how to do that from Hobie.

Trainers thumping softly against the wooden dock. Yuri sees you and Hobie sitting at the end of it, barely moving, still not breathing as you two watch the sunset. Your backs are turned away from her, if you can even smell her from where you sat, you don't take notice of her. Milky white eyes glued at the orange sunset that slowly sinks down into the sea.

Yuri takes out her handgun, breath stuck in her throat as she aims shakily at your heads. Whispering your names, instead of looking over your shoulders to stare and lunge at her warm flesh, you place your heavy head on top of Hobie's shoulder.

Yuri shakes her head, exhaling, you both look so alive like this, peaceful, lives untouched by sorrow and death.

When Yuri returns back to base with Ned frantically running towards her, eyes full of worry, he knows immediately the reason why her eyes are red, and why there's tears flowing down her tear stained cheeks. He knows, and he crumbles to his feet.

[neuroprincess]

Under The Skin - Rebecca Welton/Reader

Rebecca Welton/Female Reader

Summary: It's secret, away from everyone's eyes and just between them, a simple gesture that symbolically changes Y/N and Rebecca's lives.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, tattoos

Word count: +1000

Unrevised

Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through the veins or the gentle smile that is directed at her, but it seems so right that Y/N doesn't care about the pain and even less about tomorrow. The needle begins a little uncertainly on the skin until the woman learns to handle it with real dexterity and without trembling, both of them a little nervous. The first scratch is outlined and marked forever, halfway there. With care, Rebecca traces the half circle in the same way she saw the boys do and feels proud to see it taking shape on the forearm, small and simple, but cute and full of meaning.  

"I'm almost there, darling." she whispers and hums in anticipation, looking a little petty at how excited and proud she is.  

"It's crazy, isn't it?!" the younger stares at her, a moment of sobriety hitting for a second and the weight of the act weighing in the balance "Are we really doing this?"  

In response, Rebecca leans in and brings their lips together in a gentle kiss, taking time to leave them, there's nothing so sweet and addictive as her girlfriend. She could stay like this forever, feeling and loving her in every way, from the soft words to the burning touches.  

"God, better stop or we're not going to finish this any time soon." she laughs, reluctantly separating, and brings eyes together to analyze the next step, just one to complete "And..." turns the pen back on, drawing the last curve, this time a bit of blood comes out of the line "Done!" 

"How did it look?"  

"Beautiful, just like you, sugar." a kiss is placed on the girl's forehead and elegant hands stroke her hair "My good girl, you did great."  

Y/N sighs and smiles happily, the sparkle in the blonde's eye making the slight burning and eventual post-drinking pain worthwhile. She'd never imagined herself doing anything like that and is sure the other one hadn't either, nevertheless after two years here they are hiding in the dark at Jamie's party with the tattoo equipment borrowed, in fact temporarily stolen, exchanging secret wedding vows, marking their rings eternally under skin and exposed to the world.  

"Your turn, sweetheart."  

They change the needles and following instructions from the internet the moisturizer is applied to the arm, Y/N's fingers spreading the cream along strong and delineated muscles, memorizing again every part she knows by heart, the sensitive points she caresses in cuddles on the sofa and squeezes when they're almost reaching an apex. The couple stare at each other for a millisecond in a silent request for permission, to be sure that it's really wanted.  

"Go ahead." Welton encourages, trying to sound confident "I can handle the pain."  

"You will not regret it?" the question is fraught with concern, fear that her partner will regret the folly of a somewhat youthful nature.  

"Never, darling! Loving you is the most certain thing I have in my life." they smile complicitly and Y/N nods, continuing with the mission "We need to go to the pharmacy for ointments, which reminds me that we're also out of cotton and saline solution."  

"You're really drunk."  

"Drunk with love for you..."  

It's not exactly pain, maybe discomfort or something, but totally bearable... if it weren't for Rebecca's hidden fear of needles. She tries to disguise it by looking away, convincing herself that it's only to be surprised. Quickly and with calculated movements, a small initial in a fine line forms on the place, she still can't turn around, half paralyzed in disbelief, having her own moment of sobriety caused by shock.  

"You don't have to hide, it's okay to be afraid." the younger whispers, trying to confront her in some way, the worst part is over and the woman insists on keeping up her brave mask "Sweetheart..."  

"Is it over?"  

"Yes, it's over." she smiles and stretches up to place a kiss on the flushed cheeks "My good girl."

"Hey, that's my phrase!"  

"That doesn't mean you're not a good girl, and totally mine."  

Finally gathering courage, Rebecca looks down and almost chokes as she realizes that something really is there, engraved on her forever. The initial of Y/N's name on her and hers on Y/N. Eternally marked in a symbolic gesture, the union of their souls with homemade tattoos, sounded almost silly when the idea came up on the bar counter, but is the promise of their love for each other.  

"So we..."  

"We're married. My goodness, we're married!"   

"It's symbolic, but..." the blonde rambles, settling on the floor so that they're face to face "Soon I'm going to put a ring on your finger, give you my surname."  

"Try to imagine, Mrs. & Mrs. Welton."  

"I like the sound of that, I can't wait for this moment." 

"Me too, I'm really looking forward to it." Y/N whispers and closes the space between them with a passionate kiss, full of emotions that come through in every touch, barely able to contain the enthusiasm. She has married the person she most admires and as much as it was just between them, it's priceless, kind of magical "I love you! So much that I almost cry just thinking that we're wives now." manages to say when the air is needed. 

"I love you more! More than anything, I don't think there are enough words to describe how deeply and passionately. And I stole a champagne to celebrate."   

A bottle is taken from the handbag, chilled to the point of sweat. It's impossible not to be touched by the businesswoman's cheeky smile, who has had a lot of fun searching for the necessary items around the mansion, committing innocent little crimes for the sake of love and getting her first tattoo. All this with and for her girlfriend, engaged for half an hour and now wife.  

"We've probably got about 15 minutes before someone comes looking for us, what do you think?" Rebecca nods suggestively towards the immaculate king-size bed.  

"Oh, you want to go straight to the nuptials? Tempting."  

"No more tempting than the things I'm thinking of doing with you when we get back home, lovely wife."  

And that's another promise. 

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[spaghettificationandpretzels]

For Your Own Good

Another fanfic written at night on my phone because I didn't want to sleep away the idea. Enjoy the products of my insomnia. Remember to comment and reblog, they are so so important!

Contains: D/s dynamics, kink negotiation, safe, sane and consensual, Dom Simon, sub reader, spanking, praise kink, fingering, P in V, fluff, aftercare.

Masterlist

1.6K words

In trying to avoid worrying Simon, you break a rule and he has to deal with it.

"You need anything, Love?"

Simon always texted you before he left work to see if he needed to pick anything up from the store. Your aching, sprained ankle said yes but you knew him, if you told him about it, he make a detour to the big pharmacy in the other direction of your house and return home with half of it. Sure, the first aid kit was stocked, but Simon would insist on picking up better pain meds and fresh wrap.

"No, honey, I'm good." 

You reasoned your reply wasn't a lie, you'd be fine with some rest and ice, and it wasn't that bad, but part of you was worried that you should have said something.

When the door swung open, the ice pack was still on your elevated leg, and he took one look at you and sighed. "What happened?"

He was already at your side, kneeling by you so he could lift the ice pack up to look at the bruising. "Misstep into a hole in the grass, I didn't see it."

He was gentle as he assessed the damage, pressing and moving and touching until he had made up his mind. "Does it hurt?"

If you had said yes, he would have worried, so you lied, and your no was met with a less than gentle squeeze. "Bullshit."

He marched into the laundry and returned with the first aid kit in a huff. "You wanna tell me why you didn't ask me to stop by the store and get you stuff to fix this?"

That tone wasn't good, it was time for damage control. "It's nothing a little ice and time won't help. I didn't want to inconvenience you."

The look he gave you told you the battle was lost. "We have been over this four times y/n, it's my job to look after you." A finger pointed at your necklace drove it home. "That means none of your needs are an inconvenience."

He took a deep breath and placed the ice back over your ankle. "I'm going to get some better supplies and pick up some better meds so you're not tossing and turning all night when that really starts to hurt. After that, well, talk about how we're going to handle this problem of yours once you're all fixed up."

He pressed his lips to your forehead and held your face in his hands. "I'll be back soon, alright? If it really starts to hurt, you better call me."

You nodded. "I will. I love you."

He smiled softly and grabbed your hand for a moment. "I love you too."

*****

He was back home within the hour and back at your side the second he was in the door. "How is it?"

"It's…" You weren't going to get away with telling him it was fine and you would only make it worse for yourself if you did. "It's hurting a bit."

He was gentle as the first fall of rain in spring as he wiped the damp away from the melting ice pack and wrapped your ankle, his focus so tight that you were sure nothing would pull him away. When he was done, he held his hand out for you to stand up, watching carefully for a sign that you were hiding that it still hurt. "Better?"

You nodded. "Much, thank you."

He picked up the TV remote and took you into his arms as you sat down to watch the afternoon news, and you leaned into his embrace as he started to speak. "You know I'm going to have to punish you for what happened."

You sighed. "I know. I broke rule."

He pressed his lips to your temple as his thumb moved back and forth on your thigh. "That you did, love. I'm not mad, I don't think I could ever get angry at you, I just don't know how to get you to understand that looking after you isn't a bother to me."

You took a deep breath. "I know, but I'm not the only stubborn one in that regard, Simon."

He exhaled sharply. "Don't push your luck, love, that's why we have the rule that we have to speak up when something's wrong so the other person can help. Once your ankle is healed, we'll talk about your punishment, and I don't want this to happen again."

You nodded. "It won't."

****

The wait was two weeks, one for your ankle to heal and the other for Simon to feel like he wasn't going to hurt it again. It was a formal affair; he had cooked dinner and insisted you ate plenty, then treated you to a nice dessert. Then came the negotiation, sitting opposite each other at the table as you went over what was about to happen, Simon trying to reassure you that you could always say no and he'd think of something different.

Once you were both happy, he led you to the bedroom with a hand on your lower back before sitting on the end of the bed with his leg splayed. He watched as you undressed, removing each piece of clothing and placing them down neatly folded so you could redress once the night was over, leaving you in nothing by the necklace of one of his dog tags that signified your collar.

He lifted his hands from where they were rested on his thigh so you could lay, bent over in his lap, and one of his hands ran up and down your back while the other made its way to your backside. "Are you ready, love?"

He didn't want you to count, this was far more about dealing with a rule being broken than anything else. "Yes, I am."

The hand on your ass pressed a little firmer before his gruff voice filled the room. "Ok then." Each hit was the same: heavy, even pressure, he handed two solid smacks, then moved to the next cheek. You knew he was halfway done when he paused to rub your skin. When the hit started again, he bent slightly, reaching down to grab your hand and lift it onto the bed so he could hold it as his other hand reached its full intensity.

It was over when the first tear fell, betrayed by a heaving breath and a stutter. His hand had stilled, resting on your skin to calm the blood rushing to your flesh before moving to the other cheek and doing the same. You could feel his erection pressing into your leg and his hand slowly sliding from your backside to your core, letting you know the rest of the night was ready to start.

"I'm so proud of you, love, you took that so well." He chuckled when he found you slick, his chest rumbling with affection as his fingers slid through your slit. "My good girl, I think you deserve a thank you for how well you did."

Your legs twitched as he made contact with your clit, and you sighed as he started to work in small, focused circles. "Thank you."

He smiled and slid two of his thick fingers inside you as his thumb replaced his fingertips on your clit. "You don't need to thank me, love, I'm enjoying myself." You believed him, considering that each time you shifted on his lap and brushed his cock his breath hitched.

He focused on your G-spot, his calloused fingers drawing pleasure from your body with practised ease. It didn't take long for you to reach the edge, and your request for permission was cut off by Simon with his steady pace and deep voice. "You don't need to ask, lovely, just let go for me."

He worked you through it, waiting until you were trying to shift away from him before removing his fingers. You heard sucking sounds and twitched your head to see him with his fingers in his mouth. He shot you a charming smile and moaned. "Like candy."

He brought you up onto his lap, being mindful of your heated skin. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, and he moaned into your mouth as you reached down to palm his cock through his sweatpants. You stroked him a few times before shoving his pants down just far enough to pull him out and nipped his lower lips as you held him so you could slide down steadily until you were fully seated and his jaw was clenching with restraint.

You started to rock in unison, and there was an unordered jumble of limbs to get him as naked as you. He pulled you into his chest, and you relaxed in his arms as he took over the pace and poured sweet nothings into your ear as he angled his hips to brush your G-spot with each stroke. One of his massive hands left your back to run your clit, and his teeth touched your neck as he once again worked you towards orgasm.

"Come on, Lovely, on last one for me." He swallowed your moans as you came and then followed behind you with a feral grunt and his teeth in your shoulder. He let you catch your breath, one hand rubbing up and down your back while the other stroked your cheek and once he was satisfied, the world shifted as he moved you both so you were lying on your sides.

He pulled you into his arms and spoke softly against your forehead. "You did so well for me." You muttered, and he chucked warmly. "You rest, I'll clean you up in a little bit. You need anything from me?"

You shook your head. "No. I love you."

He pulled you in closer, half revelling in holding you half because the cold was starting to seep in. "I love you too y/n."

Fin

@chaos-4baby @candy616