#and then writing sincerely about the beautiful
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Hello. In front of you is the new dragon breed. You are ready to write a post about how you feel the breed is to inelegant, to be the Light ancient. You must word this post in a way that does not equate fatness to inelegance, or one billion explosions upon you. Your time starts now.
Already starting to see people claim that the new ancient can't be elegant or calling them ugly due to being fat and my god I hope they delete every single skinny slender dragon off the website
Crazy seeing everyone assigning beauty standards to dragons. You guys are trying to give my dragons body dysmorphia !!!!!!
It's so meta that the Knowledge is Power Flight ancient is shining a light on all the fatphobes. Everlux really getting these people to say with their outside voice what they think about fat and specifically non-proportional people.
people calling the new breed ugly bc they "look gross" and "like a blob" certainly is... a take. what fun implications those are!
not checking the forums abt the new breed anymore cuz if i see one more motherfucker go "i wanted a pretty elegant beautiful gorgeous nice dragon but instead we got a FAT one :(" im gonna start biting people.
the number of people saying the everlux look DISEASED is so sad and hurtful. we get like the third "fat" dragon out of over 2 dozen breeds and you have so much repulsion and hatred toward fat bodies that you think it looks sick.... i guess i should learn to stay out of the forums but this is so depressing to me
The obsession for every breed to look exactly like their flight theme is very weird. And the fact people are upset the everluxes aren't "elegant" smells like fatphobia. I already blocked three people calling them diseased and non-elegant or whining they aren't what they expected out of a light ancient.
ah yes, the fatphobia has begun
"why aren't they thin pretty angels straight out of my idea of christianity :(" because they're awesome fat bugs. sucks to suck
it's not fatfobia it's just very sincere health concerns for fictional pixel dragons
hate on the new light ancient without being a fatphobic bastard challenge level: impossible
"Anyone else disappointed in the Everlux?" Control F the word "fat" for a bad time
all these people like "waaah everluxes cant be elegant waaah" like. man youre just saying that because theyre fat right. people want to say they don't like that the breed is fat but they don't want to SAY it, its so cowardly
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This sapphic "Romantasy" (Fantasy with a focus on a main Romance) series by Hiyodori is hitting so well for me. After finally watching Amazon's Wheel of Time, I wanted more 30+ wlw couples, mages and magic, id-tastic psychic bonds, and politics, and the first book gave me that. Plus, some delicous "lovers to enemies to lovers" dynamics. And then the prequel! The prequel is even better in terms of writing and just grabbing me by the guts.
#book recs#wlw books#wlw romance#“chiseled open by an unrelenting joy”#that hit me right between the eyes#the exploration of power differences between women#instead of pretending f/f is inevitably and inherently not fraught with power#and then writing sincerely about the beautiful#life affirming terrifying unmaking and being remade again and again power of love? oh 👌 👏 😍#these are not things f/f stories usually do
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#not mine#also will write something more sincere and beautiful about christmas.......soon#i am just uhhhh#overwhelmed
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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭.
This beautiful art of Maleane & Astarion was made by the wonderfully talented @tadpole-apocalypse thank you so much!!! They're open to commissions, so check them out!
#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate#bg3#bg3 fanart#astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#astarion x tav#tavstarion#astarion x oc#bg3 astarion#bg3 tav#bg3 oc#oc: maleane#maleane/astarion#art#aaaa they look so so so good!! thank you so much once again!!! 💖#and also thank you for my first proper art trade!!! i haven't been this excited in a while!#i am weeping though my beautiful blorbos in the sun 😩🥺#i want to write something mhm#they look so happy!!! and they are!!! just thinking about mal smiling sincerely 🥺🥺🥺🥺#and then astarion recognizing that? him noticing the little differences in how she acts around him vs the others?#brb i need to scream into a pillow
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i guess the key, in my opinion, to writing a young dick grayson and bruce interaction is to make them gut-wrenchingly sincere. that's what gets me in fics, is the sincerity in their interactions, their every word. they have banter, and they have arguments, and they don't always say the right things to each other, but, to me, a well written dick and bruce interaction is one that is so tooth-rottingly sincere that it sticks out from all the chaos going around them. it is a beacon in the dark. they are each other's light, hope, and heart, wrapped up into one person. if they can't be sincere with each other, what is even the point?
#was in a weird rut in one of the scenes i was writing and whenever that happens i always open up a dustorange fic#bc i think what i love best about her fics is the beautiful sincerity and love pouring out of each and every bruce and dick scene#it helps me get in the zone of how to write them bc they are complex and they are stunted and they do have issues w each other#but at the end of the day they are each other's entire world and i think fics should reflect that more often#esp when they are younger/in the beginning stages
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Okay but we need to talk about the Joe Hills Peotry Corner in Cubfan's museum. Because at the start of Joe's latest video he calls it "Joe Hills's Poetry Corner", implying a poetry corner build to occasionally house Joe Hills. In truth there is no 's so it's actually a poetry corner named in honor of Joe Hills!
#and like#Joe hills' poetry episodes are always so special to me#like its the weirdest thing you could possibly do in minecraft but done with such sincerity its beautiful#and it makes the world feel more alive too like its not just people building giant rocks and other cool massive stuff#its also people writing about their world#also that ending is just perfect#and yeah fuck the algorithm#hermitcraft season 9#joehills#hermitcraft#cubfan135#Joe Hills
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maybe i’m just feeling really sad and stuff right now (i am, at least when this is queued, but that’s not the point) but i really REALLY wanna write something that just. makes someone sob. like yeah i joke that “i can never write happy stuff if it’s not upsetting it’s not mine sorry” but i feel like i never nail the raw emotion. i feel like i either lean too much or not enough into the “cliches” for it to work right. i wanna write something that just hits in the chest so hard so naturally, like i’m reading you perfectly at your worst. i want the sob to be genuine. and i wanna make it worth it. does that make sense??? idk. i know i’m still a “beginner” (haven’t been dedicated to writing poetry for even a year yet tbh; it was a hobby until my first class last semester) but like. this is my ultimate goal tbh. if i write something that resonates so strongly with someone that they cry and/or carry it for the rest of their life in a way that either hurts or haunts or relieves or maybe all of the above, then i guess i was a good poet.
or smthn idk
#idk my ‘making it’ has never been grand to me#even when i wanted to write stories my goal was always ‘if one person enjoys it then it’s good enough for me’#like. i don’t know if i want my work to outlive me in a grand way. i just want it to resonate#i want it to make the average probably queer probably isolated probably traumatized kid to feel so seen#if i can sincerely impact somebody with any of my work in any way that just haunts them in any emotion then. i guess my work was good enough#you know????#idk i’m still feeling emotional rn but like there’s a sentiment i’m trying to say but i can’t seem to say it right#if i can’t do that in my own tags how am i supposed to do it in a poem (/hj) 😭#like. like when i heard we’ll never have sex for the first time!! it was everything i’ve ever felt about my aceness!!#and yeah it’s an ace anthem to me and it’s beautiful but it still makes me cry yknow!!#because it’s beautiful yet sad to me (as someone who can never make that relationship stick) at the same time!!!#i want my shit to hit like that!!!#grace being kinda serious for once#text post#personal#poetry
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i don't write andie as as much of an overly sincere freak as she should be. shes not weird enough
#thinking about her big feelings and how completely unafraid she is to share them even if they are Too Much Too Fast or just too much#in general. and how when she tries to make a sarcastic joke she cant even hold onto it bc her sincerity wins out every time#and how she will say the most out of pocket profound stuff bc she just Can and Wants to#i dont write her weird enough bc i let my own fear of being too much hold me back. as andie says we need to destroy shame & act from love!!#THERE'S A LOT OF BEAUTY IN ORDINARY THINGS — ooc
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remember in 2012 when i was scared to be openly homestuck because i didn't want to look uncool to my superwholock followers. do you remember that
#feltext#at this point i feel like homestuck is one of the pieces of media with the strongest impact on me#for like. the actual story of it. not for the people i met through it#i just think about it all the time. it's so sad. it's so cute. it's so silly. it's so soul-crushing#and of course some things Really haven't aged well but for the most part it's still really beautiful#yes it's goofy as shit sometimes but it's also shockingly sincere. it's FULL of sincerity#it's a story about teenagers and it really does take their love and loss so seriously#it IS the end of the world!! and they feel it!! every day!!#alongside the grief for their families. confronting the reality of abuse. discovering love and self identity#the essays i wish i could write about each character#putting aside the fandom's reputation. homestuck is so underappreciated
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What did Bucky think/feel when he locked omega out of the house? Generally curious since he has feelings for her, so I wonder why would he be that cruel to her? Like what on earth was going on in his head
I feel like hints towards his feelings are given in the text. It says something about how his eyes widen when he sees her all wet and shivering, and then he swallows before his expression changes back to normal. Make of that what you will😭😭
#sometimes I feel like I don’t wanna give away what everyone is feeling except the main character#bc like… there’s a reason I drop hints in my stories instead of outright being like ‘Bucky felt like this’#bc it’s not in his POV 😭😭😭#we aren’t meant to know how he feels ONLY SPECULATE and decipher from the hints given#that’s the beauty of writing#I’ve noticed everyone just wants to know everything about every character when you can just draw conclusions yourself#im sincerely not trying to be rude besyie pls understand 😭😭😭#okay I’ll say it once now: he regretted it but not enough to apologise#bUT PLEASE I CANT GIVE AWAY WHAT EVERYONE IS THINKING#BC TJEN WHAT IS THE POINT SISJSJSJ#pls try and understand 😭😭😭
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i think the losers calling Close (2022) torture porn ought to look inwardly, see why they can only stomach disney-ified assimilationist queer narratives, and kill themselves LoL
#emotionally manipulative#me personally? i wept thru abt 60% of the film and i think it healed something in me. this tragedy is about the grief of having loved & lost#and i think it was beautiful. a little blunt at times. but authentic. it felt sincere. cant believe ppl r calling#just say u can only handle heartstopper and go. not everything has to be about YOUR lived experience. not everything has to be relatable 2U#u are supposed to feel the spectrum of emotion. an author or a writer or a director or any other artists goal is to make you FEEL something.#its not emotionally manipulative to succeed at that. its just the mark of a great filmmaker#i can tell the difference between a str8 person writing a gay tragedy & a queer one. the former could never make my heart ache like Close :(
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Gosh!! ヽ(˵ ▨-▨¬˵)̄ノ💖💖💖 You really marked the point when you said that they still weren't creating something original, I wasn't giving it more deeper thought and ruminating of Dreaming's words I think it goes hand in hand with the superficiality of the nobility…
The grandiose castles dotted with hundreds of fake windows, hollow spires, self powered carriages still led by a dozen horses. The only objects of beauty that they're creating is all inherently superficial. To distance themselves from humanity, and put forth a claim and image of their superiority. But then, after all that, what is there left of their art?
There is nothing deeper. They'll create portrait after portrait, they'll paint the night filled with the scientific abominations they created, and if it wasn't destroyed paintings of their longing of what only the humans have. Even the only human visual artist - obsessed with become one of the nobility- only creates as a tool to take advantage or harm others, even those with the thoughts of becoming nobility are completely corrupted by it's spirit ( Rose Princess....)
I think it's a really compelling thought that the nobility would rather turn down further creation in the name of bloodlust. Everyone who is a descendant of the nobility are cursed by it. I mean, even D, the so called only success is afflicted by it! But instead of chowing down on some necks he's mowing them down with his sword. Imagine what he could have created if it wasn't ingrained in the nobility's DNA…Weirdly enough, all of it reminds me of those drawings that serial killers/murders in prisons would make actually, you can sense that something crucial is missing in those creations.
Potentially a fundamental lack of spirituality? ( Gold Fiend spoilers [as it is recent] I would say soul too, but gold fiend basically confirms that they do in fact have one….Though their souls still seem to be distinct from humans, it's only ever mentioned nobles reincarnating into nobility a new). Vampires are abominations of god, symbols of holiness repels them, that hollowness presents themselves in their creations.
Well essentially, they're masquerading as something that they're not, the evolution of mankind, when in reality they truly are monsters driven by an inescapable bloodthirst. And even if they were able to keep it in check by constitution alone, who's to say it didn't plaque them to the point it renders them unable to do something else? In the Tyrant's Stars mental health facility there's no mention of therapeutic arts, they seem to be using only SA's left behind energy.
There is no true love found in the nobility, they don't have a love of life. They cannot truly enjoy life - they are beings created to sap from it like disgusting leeches. Unoriginality is their curse, it's their doom, and it became their extinction.
Can Nobles create art themselves? I wondered because I don't remember any examples. Only that they made humans do it - someone wrote songs/plays, I remember? Or the girl who played the harp in the second Greylancer book. The singer that Valcua loved to listen to. Or maybe some humans just wanted to do it? That artist from the first book who drew SA's portrait
I'm just thinking that I don't remember any Noble doing this, but maybe I'm wrong. I wonder if there is any explanation for this (other than they just don't want to)
#thoughts#This is such a fun topic#Bless you Mash ꒰✿⌗´͈ ᵕ ॣ`͈⌗꒱♡ sincerely bless you!💖💖#and bless you too Dreaming for making so many good points !!! ♡ヾ(●◡●˵)ノ💖💖#forgive me for all my typos - I'm simply unwilling to proof read anything written electronically oops ha forgive me for incoherent rambling#I want to talk about VHD all day but alas I must go do homework now 🚶🚶#9 pm and I got a 9am tomorrow oughhhh I might actually have to write a paper for another class ougghhhhhhh I need to check....#IDK something about what dreaming really resonated with me actually - but I won't get TMI LOL it gave me the final push to think deeper#And yes....I know from Raiser of Gales the nobility's art leaves Lina speechless#who's to say it wasn't just the superficial beauty of the art that did it and not a deeper subject matter?#Also - gotta love how I had MfM D's ass staring at me while typing this out 😭The internet is a beautiful place - the nobility could never
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Night Parade of a Hundred Ghosts
My comic for “Queer Compassion in 15 Comics,” a collaborative anthology that blends social science and art to illustrate LGBTQ+ experiences of compassion. You can read it online for free, or purchase a physical copy at that link :)
I was asked to write a statement about this piece, which I will share here:
There are some difficult feelings in the comic about estrangement, belonging, and cultural longing. The story didn’t click for me, though, until I started reading the stories of others in the community from the research. There’s a lot of beauty in there, but there’s also a lot of hurt. I wanted to squeeze everyone’s hands and somehow find the perfect words of comfort— and isn’t that all that anyone wants to do when they see family going through it? So I started thinking of it as a call-and-response between you, at your lowest point, and the ghosts of your ancestors. If they could talk to you, what would they say? “Look—you’re safe and fed.” “You’re alive.” “How magnificent!” “You can cry, but wouldn’t it feel better if you did it in the shower?” “Now hold my hand and walk with me.” “Take care of yourself.” “Brush your teeth.” “Text her back.” “We love you.”
It’s surreal to share this. I began working with the anthology crew in 2021, towards the beginning of my undergrad. In just under a week, I’ll be graduating. This project has been living in the back of my brain for the past three years, a source of comfort and catharsis. Now we get to inflict it on all of you, hahahaha…!! Sincerely, I feel so lucky to have been able to participate in it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who leaves their touch on this anthology— scientists, artists, interviewees, readers, and beyond.
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Headcanon that Morax can flirt like CRAZY...except he's not really aware that he's flirting; he's just being sincere.
You see him seated, practicing various styles of traditional calligraphy with dexterous strokes of his brush. When you move closer you realise, as your heart skips several beats, that he's been writing your name - over and over in countless elegant styles.
When you bashfully ask him about it, he responds - with a deadpan expression, "It is a name most beautiful; one that flows from my ink as easily as water in a river."
You subsequently roll around on the floor, not knowing how else to channel your poor flabbergasted heart, as your divine lover calmly continues his calligraphic endeavors.
He'd be creating Mora from his body while you're lounging around on the bed. The deity would sigh, "Ah, all the gold I make cannot compare to this leisurely sight of you at peace."
You stare at him agog as he blinks back at you earnestly. His golden gaze is more intense than the sheen of the Mora, yet his expression is mundane. It takes everything in you not to chew up the pillows.
One day, he's telling you all about his visit to Fontaine, where he sampled some exquisite tasses ragout. He explains how the warm flavors masterfully mingled on his tongue and left him wanting more.
So you ask him, "Is it the most delicious thing you have ever tasted?"
Your god doesn't even hesitate before his answer. "Hm, not at all."
"Then what is?" You expect him to name a traditional Liyuen dish like Adeptus' Temptation, or Jueyun chilli chicken, or...
Morax maintains his beautiful poker face. "I would have to say...you have the most enjoyable taste."
You promptly head to the top of Mt. Tianheng and scream your lungs out.
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Hot Chocolate?
Summary: Bucky wakes up from a nightmare and can’t find you.
Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her)
Warnings/tags : PTSD, nightmares, panic. very slight cursing. hurt/comfort. Very much an angsty fic.
Requested by : myself again
Word count : 1.4k
Note : As someone who has struggled with sleep disorders, writing this helped me reach a strange catharsis. Since today is World Mental Health day, please check up on your friends, my loves! Oh and I am still accepting requests, I just have enough prompts for the rest of this week and will be replying to your asks at the start of next week! Also, do Americans use electric kettles? Sincerely, someone who lives in England.
Requests are open!
○ buy me a ko-fi ○
Bucky shot awake. He shuddered, trying to bat away the lingering visions of his nightmare that clung to him like a drenched blanket.
He found his lungs grasping for air with panic gasps as his eyes darted around the bedroom. The shadows casted by the starlight filtered through the curtains took shapes that made his heart race. For a split second, he thought he wasn’t in his apartment anymore. He was back in the Siberian Hydra lab, cold metal restraints nipping into his skin. He heard his handler’s voice speaking Russian, echoing the room with his old trigger words.
He forced himself out of this terrified state, grounding himself in reality. His chest was heaving, his eyes were bleary. Instinctively, his hand reached for the space next to him.
It was empty.
You weren’t there.
A wave of panic crashed over him, and this was far more constricting than the terror of his nightmares. His heart started pounding more violently in his chest. His fingers grazed the sheets where you should have been. You had at least been gone long enough for the pillows to grow cold.
He could feel his pulse in his veins, each beat hammering the insides of his skull. His mind spiralled uncontrollably, thoughts feeding off the remains of the nightmare and twisting them into something much worse.
Had you left him?
What did he do?
Had he driven you away?
Was this it?
Bucky hastily threw off the covers, sprawling it all on your bedroom floor. He stumbled out of bed, mind clouded with fear and panic. The apartment was eerily quiet— too quiet for him to handle on his own. Too quiet for his overwhelmingly loud thoughts.
He waded through the hall as if he was four feet deep in muddy waters, his bare feet softly thudding against the floorboards. The faint sound of water boiling reached his ears. His breath hitched, his heart racing.
Emerging into the open space, his eyes darted around the dark living room, his gaze finally landing on the soft glow of the kitchen light.
He walked towards the kitchen.
There you were.
You were standing by the kitchen counter, a mug in one hand, the other resting on the kettle. You were so beautiful. So perfect, compared to him.
You looked lost in thought, your posture relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him, though you were unaware.
Bucky’s feet stayed where he was for a moment, as if ice had frozen over him. Relief washed over him so fast that it nearly knocked all the air out of his lungs.
You were here. You hadn’t left.
The relief was quickly replaced by the gnawing ache of guilt, the kind that made his chest feel tight and his head swim feel like it was underwater. He’d thought you were gone, and the mere thought of it had sent him into a spiralling depth. How pathetic.
He couldn’t help it. He constantly felt like teetering on the edge of losing you. Like every day with you was borrowed time. Like he had already stayed his welcome. Like he wasn’t worthy of holding you in his arms.
Perhaps the reason he was so jaded sometimes, was that he was sure you’d wake up and realise he was too broken, too damaged.
When he played this scenario in his head, you’d walk out the door, leaving him a shell of the man he is now. He thought about it more that he’d care to admit.
His heart was still pounding in his chest as he moved closer to you. His footsteps were slow and uncertain. Your eyes lifted to meet his stormy blue ones as he entered the kitchen, your brow furrowing in concern when you saw his pale, shaking face.
"Bucky?" your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper.
He shivered a bit, unable to form words for just a second. The ache in his stomach and the ball in his throat made it impossible to speak. His eyes dropped to the floor, shame curling a painful knot in his core.
“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” he finally muttered, struggling to get every word out, as if he was swallowing glass. “I thought…” He trailed off, the rest of the sentence too painful to say out loud. Instead, small sobs escaped his lips.
You set the mug down on the counter and closed the distance between the two. Your hand found his arm, your fingers warm against the cool vibranium.
“Hey,” you said gently, willing your voice to be as soothing as can be, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just couldn’t sleep.”
Bucky’s gaze stayed fixed on nothingness. You could hear his jaw clicking nervously, like a man terrified for his life.
“I thought you’d left,” he admitted in a cracked whisper, sounding as fragile as he felt. “Thought I’d… driven you away.”
Your heart broke at the pain in his voice. He sounded like a whimpering puppy, begging to be held.
He had such a raw, vulnerable nature that he tried his best to keep hidden all the damn time. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as he allowed you to. You needed him to know you were never letting him go.
At first, his body was frozen like a petrified statue— he wasn’t sure he deserved the comfort. But slowly, his muscles relaxed under your touch.
“I’m right here, darling,” You whispered. Your words were firm but gentle. “I’m always right here.”
He let out a shaky breath. His forehead dropped to rest against the top of your head, breathing on your scent— the scent that always brought him a sense of calm. “I don’t… I don’t know why I keep thinking you’ll leave.”
“I’m not.” You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “I’m not,” you repeated again, hoping that if you said it enough times, he’d finally believe it.
The sincerity of those two simple words made his throat tighten, his chest constricting under the weight of emotions he had always struggled to fully process. He had never ever wrapped his head around how you could stand here, looking at him—someone so broken and damaged—with such gentle desire. He had never believed he deserved it.
But he wanted to believe, to trust that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he always feared. That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t going to leave him behind like he feared you would.
The faint shimmer of tears fractured the soft kitchen light. He was at a loss of words at how you were holding him together, when he couldn't even do it for himself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I keep putting you through this.”
Your hand found his, fingers intertwining with his. Your grip was warm, It was reassuring and steady. “Don’t be,” you said softly. You could tell that he had a nightmare. You learned the signs— the shaking, the sweating. The look of restlessness despite being asleep for the last several hours. “You just had a rough night.”
Bucky trembled against you, feeling him unravelling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was short and it came in shaky bursts. Tears streamed down his cheeks, hot and heavy, soaking into your skin. They started quietly, a gentle release, but soon turned into shuddering sobs that echoed against the kitchen counter, the walls, the floors.
His grip tightened, fingers twirling into the fabric of your shirt as if you were his anchor in this reality. Each sob was raw, steeped in guilt and in the fear of losing you.
No matter how vulnerable he felt, he knew that in your embrace, there was no judgement. You held him tighter, whispering soft reassurances and sweet nothings— promises that you’d stay with him forever and ever. Until the end of time. Until your heart gave out.
“Do you want hot chocolate, too?” you asked softly.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a small laugh, your words a shocking catharsis, bringing him out of the spiral.
Oh, you always knew how to say the right thing at the right time.
He nodded, squeezing your hand one more time, just to reassure himself that you were real, that you weren’t slipping away.
You smiled gently at his quiet laugh, slightly reaching out to turn the electric kettle back on again without letting your grip on him falter.
As the kettle hummed in the background, Bucky held you close, finally convincing himself that no matter how dark the nightmares were, you would always be there when he woke up.
-end
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#james buchanan barnes#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes x reader angst#the winter soldier#winter soldier#catws#fatws#marvel thunderbolts#thunderbolts#bucky barnes comfort#bucky barnes hurt/comfort#bucky barnes x y/n#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan imagine#marvel fanfic
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sincerely yours. (12)
↳ gojou satoru/reader
when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.
genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+
tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses
notes. 11k wc. finally. i wrote this with only one eye open so please don't mind the inconsistencies, i'm trying my best to tie any loose ends before we reach the ending. if the writing feels rushed, it’s bcos i’m just ready to wrap up this series 😭
series masterlist -> episode thirteen
You thought everything that had happened last night was just a dream.
Because you had gotten used to the constant disappointments and vicissitudes of your life, sharing such domestic bliss with the person you loved had started to feel far-fetched for you. It had become an unachievable fantasy, a colorful delusion created by your mind to conceal the actual darkness of pain that surrounded it.
But as you opened your eyes that morning, the familiar warmth of a sleeping Satoru’s embrace was the reality you never saw coming. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, it all felt surreal—like a fragile dream teetering on the edge of shattering. You wondered if it would be okay to stay here for now. To forget about the rest of the damn world and remain in his arms, staring at his beautiful saintly face, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat.
When Satoru stirred from his sleep, you knew your daydream was over. But he was pulling you dangerously close with arms wrapped around your frame and his lips pressed against your forehead. He was only half-awake, it seemed. His long white lashes reminded you of Sachiro’s as you watched him mumble incoherent words from his sleep, something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Akemi’.
That was your cue to pull yourself away from him. With guilt now coursing through your body, you sat up from bed and covered your naked body with the duvet. Akemi. You had completely abandoned the thought of Akemi last night, and now you were here in bed with ‘supposedly’ her man. As much as your heart was in bliss from last night’s events, the dark and cold reality was that you slept with a man who wasn’t yours. It was a principle you told yourself you would never cross, but everything concerning Satoru Gojou seemed to be bringing you to that.
“Satoru, hey.” Your voice almost came out as a plea as you shook his arm, your guilt eating at you with every minute that passed. “Wake up.”
His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes, blinded by the sunlight that gleamed through the window as he stretched his arms and looked at you. “Y/N?” he softly whispered, a hand tenderly placed on your back as he scooted closer. “What’s wrong?”
Slight disbelief blanketed your gaze. “You think this isn’t wrong?”
Satoru let out a sigh of exasperation, pulling his head back, and covering his eyes with a hand as if last night’s events played through his mind scene to scene. He was obviously caught in a mindwreck thinking about the girl he had just cheated on. “It shouldn’t be,” he mumbled, “But it feels like it.”
“So you do regret it,” you laughed at your own words, internally in pain.
“I didn’t say that.” He finally pulled himself back up, sitting as he pulled you towards him. “Y/N, if we really thought last night was wrong, we would have stopped after the first time.” He shook his head at the irony. “Look, it’s on me, alright? I put you in this situation.”
“And I allowed it,” you argued, “I allowed it, Satoru. It makes me feel dirty. I feel like, like I’m wrecking someone else’s home. It’s not me.”
Satoru held his breath, a look of hesitation dawning on his face as he realized that this wasn’t just a dream of his. It was pure and raw reality that he had made a mistake that he could never undo. While thinking it through, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, leaning against the headboard as he assessed the situation. Then, he looked at you, his expression softening as he spoke, “No, not your fault. It’s just complicated,” he insisted, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes ‘Kemi an apology.”
Each time you heard her nickname from him was a punch to your gut. And each silent cuss that left his lips was an arrow to your heart. So you put it on yourself to accept his reaction. “It’s okay. You can be honest and say last night was a mistake.”
“No, no, no. I didn’t say that,” he replied quickly, reaching out to take your hand.
But you already stood up from the bed, clutching the duvet around your body like a shield against the encroaching chill. Your throat felt tight, and tears threatened to spill, but you fought to keep them at bay. Satoru’s gaze followed you with an expression of helplessness, as if he was struggling to bridge the gap between his rights and wrongs.
As you turned to face him, a knot of frustration and heartache tangled within you. “So, what now?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure. “How are we gonna fix this, Satoru? How?”
Before he could answer, the door to the cabin suddenly burst open, and Akemi stood in the doorway with her eyes wide with shock and fury. The confrontation followed as soon as she caught you in a compromising position with Satoru, and the words she uttered next were ones you least expected from her.
“You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married.”
“You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me..”
“Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”
You felt like an outsider in your own heartbreak, the confrontation intensifying as you tried to process the bitter truth in silence. All you could do was stand there and cry. Even Satoru’s attempts to placate Akemi were futile as her anger only seemed to grow. The more her eyes danced back and forth between you and her lover, the more she wanted to destroy everything in her path.
Satoru’s face was indiscernible from where you stood. “Akemi, please, just listen—”
Akemi, however, was already turning on her heel and storming back into her cabin while eliciting loud, muffled sobs. Your chest tightened with sorrow and shame. Complete, utter shame of doing this to another woman. How could you even correct a situation like this? How could you pick yourself back up after you just trampled on another woman’s feelings because of your actions?
Satoru, like you, hesitated on his next move, his eyes meeting yours with a look of anguish. “I need to talk to her, Y/N. I’ll be back.”
Without waiting for your response, he already bolted after her, leaving you alone in a quiet, pathetic state. The door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through the cabin like thunder in a heavy storm.
You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to face everyone, didn’t have the guts to even talk to Shoko and Suguru who now both have to deal with such scandals. You were too ashamed of yourself, as if your femininity had been stripped off its rights after you slept with the man you swore you would never get back with.
“I didn’t mean it,” you could only silently whisper your laments, pacing around your cabin while swallowing the weakness that tried to escape. “I hate this.”
The minutes dragged on, and each second stretched into an eternity as you waited for Satoru’s return. For now, you sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, wondering what excuse he was telling Akemi, and what actions he would do to try and calm her down. Did he kiss her, perhaps? Did he cup her face and tell her that you were nothing but a mistake? What was taking him so long? Or were they doing things to try and erase the same deeds you two did last night?
The cacophony of voices and commotion from outside the cabin grew louder, and your curiosity led you to open your door, meeting the eyes of one of the hotel staff who sent you a look full of judgment.
“Where’s…” you hesitated if she was the right person to ask, “Where’s Satoru? Would you know?”
“Oh, ma’am. He already left the hotel half an hour ago… with Miss Akemi.”
Her answer hit you hard like a truck on a highway. And your heart dropped as you realized who became The Fool in these deck of cards. Satoru had not only run off after Akemi, but had also left you behind without a word.
The room felt colder now, the once-intimate sanctuary you shared with your ex-husband now a prison of your own grief. Even the familiar warmth of the bed seemed like a distant memory as you approached it, your body trembling as you thought of how you were treated like a dirty rag, thrown away after being used over and over again.
With a soft, choked sob, you collapsed onto the bed, the duvet still a tangled mess from earlier. And your emotions, so tightly restrained, finally broke free. You pulled the blanket around you as if it could shield you from the crushing pain. The betrayal, the sense of being discarded for another—it all converged into a torrent of anguish. All you could do was cling to the duvet as if it were the only anchor in a stormy sea.
——
Returning home didn’t make the situation any better.
Although you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be waiting on Satoru to contact you, you still found yourself checking your phone multiple times a day. Each second that passed without hearing from him was another stab to your heart. But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t, not when Satoru clearly made his choice of choosing yet another woman over you.
Of course, you knew what you did was wrong. In everyone’s eyes, sleeping with someone else’s man was unforgivable. There was no excuse, no way to justify your actions. Even if some people might side with you, saying you owed no one loyalty, it didn’t change how you felt about the whole situation. And that was because you remembered all too well the pain of being cheated on, and letting another woman endure the same heartbreak and betrayal was a weight on your conscience that you couldn’t ignore.
Sighing, you turned to the left side of the bed and saw Sachiro sleeping peacefully, clutching his favorite starfish plushie in his tiny arms. The thought of losing your son was unbearable, especially when he was your only source of calm amid the chaos that surrounded you. Caring for him was your solace, and his innocent presence served as a band-aid for your wounded heart. The most heart-wrenching part of this was knowing you couldn’t even repay him for the stability he brought you. Sachiro deserved a complete family to enrich his life, yet you—as his own biological mother—were unable to give him that.
“Sleep tight, Sachi.” You lightly stroked his white hair before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
The past few weeks had been a blur of emotions, work, and parenting—with each day blending into the next like a tornado of dull colors. You still hadn’t heard from Satoru, but the days of waiting and checking your phone for any notification from him did gradually stop. The only thing that didn’t stop replaying in your head like a broken record was the cabin incident, the very night that drew all these overthinking in your mind and in your heart.
Returning to work did provide some distraction, but it didn’t take away the sting. It also didn’t help that your staff noticed the change in your demeanor, and how distracted you often were during your meetings and warehouse visits. Even Nobara was worried about how absentminded you had become, but you brushed off all their concerns with a forced smile. After all, staying at home would do you worse than being at work.
Now, you were back in your office, and the soft knock on the door cut you off from your trance. It was Yuki peeking through the small opening on your door, her usual professional demeanor softened by a concerned expression. “Hey, Y/N. Do you have a minute?” she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
You nodded, trying to muster a smile. “Sure, Yuki. What’s up?”
“I wanted to check in on you,” she began, taking a seat opposite your desk, “If you need to extend your vacation, please, by all means, go ahead. It’s off-season, anyway. I’ll take care of everything here while you’re focusing on yourself.”
That wasn’t really a good idea. And you shouldn’t be slacking off work when this very fashion house you establish used to be your passion, not your job. Yet here you were, losing all the inspiration to even run a business. “I don’t know if I have the energy for anything else right now.”
“Well, if you’re too worried about leaving work,” Yuki continued, her tone shifting to a more business-like note, “the progress we’ve made with Hearte is looking really promising. The new collection is getting great feedback, and our upcoming showcase is shaping up well. We’re on track for a strong quarter.”
“All because of you, Yuki.” A spark of gratitude appeared on your face. “Thanks for the update. It’s good to know things are moving in the right direction.”
She then stood up and gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need anything, Y/N. But seriously, take some time for yourself. You deserve it.”
On that same evening, you came home to your father’s mansion, and the first thing that greeted you when you entered the foyer was Gen sitting by the living room. And needless to say, her expression was a mix of concern and frustration as if she had been waiting for you to return. You weren’t really in the mood to have some back-and-forths with her, but you also didn’t like how she dropped her phone on the table and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at you like she was a mother who could scold you like a child.
“I’m not even gonna say anything at this point, but did you really do it with him?” Gen’s voice was low, but the disappointment was palpable. You could feel it from a few meters away.
“What are you talking about?” you bit back, your already-terrible mood swings shifting into an unhealthy direction.
Gen responded by pointing at her phone, gesturing for you to take a look at whatever’s on it. Reluctantly, you grabbed the device, and as you were scrolling through the screen, you stumbled upon a blind item circulating on social media. The words were vague but pointed, hinting at a scandalous encounter between two ex-spouses, both of whom were well-known figures. Great. Your heart stopped as you realized that the article was very much about you and Gojou.
The online comments were brutal, not like you weren’t used to anonymous harassment anyway, but these ones were full of speculating and judging without knowing the full story. Everyone also seemed to be siding with “Ms. A” instead of you as though the person behind the article was clearly trying to paint you as the villain. It was written for the purpose of destroying your reputation rather than any regular exposé, and whoever wrote it was definitely someone who disliked you.
Your shoulders slumped as you scrolled through hate comment after hate comment, a seemingly endless vitriol for someone they didn’t even know, and avoided your sister’s gaze knowing full well that seeing her expression would only make you feel worse.
“Is it true?” your sister asked like there was even an ounce of chance that it was simply a rumor. Unfortunately, it was anything but.
Sliding her phone back on the coffee table, you drew in a deep breath. “I can’t undo it, Gen. It happened.”
“So, you did sleep with him? Am I hearing this right?” Gen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do you have any idea what this could do to you? To Sachiro? People are ruthless, and now this blind item is all over the place and they’re targeting you like a punching bag!”
Your mouth felt heavy, as if it was weighed down by an invisible burden, making it difficult to form words or speak. And before you could think of a response, Ian became your temporary savior as he walked in with a calm but serious mien. “I’ve seen the post,” he said, holding up his phone. “It’s clearly defamatory, and we can take legal action. I’ll handle it.”
Even though Ian was a man of remarkable phlegm, you remained abashed, knowing that everyone’s feasting at the juicy rumor that you slept with your ex-husband. Yet, the only thing you could do was to put on a front. To save face. To act like someone you’re not. “Thank you, Ian. I’d appreciate that.”
Anticipating another lecture from Gen about Satoru, you began retreating to your room with your footsteps bouncing desperately on the grand staircase. This conversation was done. You just weren’t there to hear it anymore. However, as you climbed the stairs with a vacant mind, you could still hear your sister calling out to you.
“Y/N!” she called, her voice now tinged with concern. “I’m not going to give you a hard time. We can sort this issue out. Maturely.”
“I’m good.” Sorry, Gen. It was the anxious-avoidant side of you speaking. You didn’t want to discuss such a sensitive situation to anyone, even with your sister, because you weren’t ready to face all the negativity it would put you through. You were already dealing with enough, and going through yet another emotional turmoil might actually put you to your deathbed at this point.
So, for now, isolating yourself from the world was the best choice.
And as soon as you entered your room, you saw Sachiro’s nanny tucking him into bed. All your worries and self-destructive thoughts vanished in an instant the moment you looked at your son. It was like the heavens gave you your personal angel, a cute little cherub who brought nothing but light and happiness to your life. He was your sunshine, your shooting star, your bundle of joy. Nothing in this world could erase the pessimist in you than little Sachiro.
“I got it from here.” You thanked the nanny and asked her to close the door before quickly joining your son in bed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug—more for your own comfort than his.
“Mama?” he asked, his voice unusually raspy, and his chest rising and falling heavily. “I mwiss you, mama!”
You pressed your lips onto his forehead. “I miss you too, my baby. How was daycare today?”
He seemed to struggle to speak too, but Sachiro still did his best to recount his day while he was trying to catch air in between his sentences. “Teacher ask Sachi to go home, mama. Sachi is tired.”
“Baby, are you okay? Are you sick?” Now, your motherly instincts kicked in immediately. You could tell something was wrong, so you reached for a thermometer from the bedside drawer to check his temperature, and listened to his breathing at the same time. “What happened to Sachi? Do you want Mommy to take you to the hospital?”
Sachiro shook his head and gave you a sleepy smile. “No, mama. Sachi is just sweepy.”
When the thermometer beeped, you were relieved to see that his temperature was normal. “Are you having trouble breathing, my sweetheart?” You looked into his droopy eyes and gently placed your hand on his chest.
Once again, Sachiro shook his head. Maybe you were just overthinking. He often ran around the house or played in the bathtub before bed, which could explain why he seemed out of breath. It wasn’t the first time it happened.
“Okay, Sachi. Go to sleep now. Close your eyes, baby.”
“Night night, mama.”
For now, you turned off the night lamp, and headed to the bathroom in silent and careful steps. It was quiet enough indeed, but in your head was an awful noise you couldn’t escape. And stepping into the shower only increased the warfare in your mind, as it immediately brought images of Satoru and Akemi back in the cabin, the harsh comments from the article, and the lack of contact from your ex-husband which all overwhelmed you at once. By now, he would have already seen that article. Nanami or Miwa might have already alerted him about it. But the fact that he said nothing, the fact that he let the public scrutinize you, destroy you with such vile, hurtful words behind their screens brought you a kind of pain that you wouldn’t wish upon anyone else.
Because if it was Akemi in that position, he would have defended her in a heartbeat.
So in your silence, under the cascading water of the shower, you let the tears flow—its warmth distinguishable compared to the cold droplets falling on you. If only you had successfully drowned yourself that night at the lake. If only Satoru didn’t pull you back in, none of this would have happened.
That moment was deeply poignant to you, and you saw him in a new light you thought you would never see again because of the darkness of your past. Yet, with the events that followed your special moment, memories eventually turned into spite. Your sweet exchange twisted into something bitter. Looking back at that time when he kissed you at the lake now made you feel nauseous and hollow inside, with bile forming on your throat and threatening to be retched.
The most gut-wrenching part about this was the fact that there wasn’t anyone left who could rescue you from this abyss of heartache anymore.
——
There had been a sense of detachment in your emotions in the following days that passed, almost as though they belonged to a stranger inhabiting your body. Toji, the only person who comforted you at times like these, was no longer by your side to fulfill the warmth you once desperately sought, and now you were alone to face this cruel, mind-numbing battle all by yourself. It was you against the world. You against the entire populace inhabiting this living hell. And with that many enemies against one, how could you win?
It was quite funny, actually, that your humor took a surprising turn when you thought of how Sera must have felt when it was revealed to the public that she was Satoru’s mistress. The irony didn’t even stop at your thoughts alone, it manifested itself outside Hearte’s headquarters, wearing a pink puffer jacket and a white prairie skirt.
“Sera?” you blurted out her name in wonder, nonplussed as you got out of the car to approach her.
“Hey, Y/N.” She offered a casual smile while carrying an air of sophistication around her. That wasn’t the only thing that changed about Sera. Her hair was also shorter than the last you saw her, her face now sporting a more natural makeup, and her outfit a more modest yet classy choice. It was no longer the Sera who tried hard to fit in amongst the upper echelon of society, but a Sera who seemed to be satisfied at her current standing in life.
What an awkward encounter. Was her presence your hypocritical reminder for sleeping with Satoru behind Akemi’s back?
“What are you doing here?” you asked.
And she answered with, “I read about what happened. You know, the thing on the internet.” She took a moment to pause, probably trying to choose the right words to say to her previous adversary. Because in a way, you two weren’t exactly friends. And you were no longer rivals either. Satoru was the only common denominator here, and Sera proved her exact sentiments about him by saying, “I just wanted to let you know that I understand your side. It’s a tough situation.”
You looked at her, searching for any hint of insincerity, but found none. “You were once on my spot,” you pointed out and gauged whether or not she would take the bait. For all you know, she could be putting on an act. “I’m assuming you’re here to rub it in my face how much of a hypocrite I am.”
“No, that’s not it.” Sera was vehemently denying any malice on her intentions, and was instead trying to show you the sympathy of a woman who was once caught in the same predicament. “Look, I know it’s weird that I’m here out of all people. But the truth is, I just had to let you know that someone’s on your side. I’ve met the girl, okay? That… whoever she is. I don’t remember her name, and I hate having to pit two women against each other, but I’m telling you it’s about time you cut Satoru off your life. Completely. She doesn’t look like someone who’d easily let go. You’re just gonna suffer, Y/N.”
Perhaps three years was too far back in your life and that tables could turn in a direction that you didn’t expect, as you could recall fragments of memories from when your only dilemma was dealing with Satoru and Sera in your marriage. She used to be besotted with your ex-husband back then. But now, it wasn’t until you heard the way she spoke about him that you realized she must be harboring a grudge deeper than you had imagined. After all, he did ruin her life in ways you couldn’t imagine. And her advice, though unsolicited, made sense. Because you could understand where she was going with it. You could see the true intentions clearly conveyed by her face.
The only problem here was that you didn’t have it in your heart to agree with her. You were too much of an empathic person to be taking sides, even if the supposed villain in this painting was the ex-husband who, time and time again, hurt you. Your heart stubbornly cared for Satoru deep down, and your wifely instinct of defending him no matter how poorly he acted had always been there. No one could hate Satoru more than you did, that was true, but you also weren’t very accepting of hearing others describe him as this ruthless, cheating bastard.
That was the reason why talking to Gen had eventually exhausted you. Because no one knew the real Satoru Gojou behind his facade of an irresponsible and reckless husband.
“Now that you’re here…” The idea to redirect the conversation to another topic struck you, unwilling to engage in a conversation that pushed Satoru in a bad light. “Would you be interested in being a model for our upcoming campaign? We’re launching a new collection, and I think you’d be perfect.”
Sera’s eyes were an amalgam of confusion and surprise. “Uh, I mean… I’d love to, but why so sudden?”
“You have the face for it.” You shrugged, but still sent a smile her way. “Are you working right now? If not, this could open doors for you to be discovered by modeling agencies. I’m closely tied with them since I work in the fashion industry, so I can do a few calls if you want.”
“Hold on, I’m—” Sera touched her head, laughing as if she were dreaming this conversation. “Y/N, you’re doing too much here. I mean, I’d obviously love that, but wouldn’t it be awkward? People know me as your ex-husband’s mistress, and if they recognize me in Hearte ads, I’m sure as hell those fuck ass netizens won’t stop talking about it.”
She had a point, a very good point, but then again, your suggestion was only brought up because you had to change the topic. “Well, it’s just an offer to consider in the future.”
“And I appreciate you always extending a hand to help me even if I did you wrong in the past,” she said, feelings of shame lacing her voice. “I haven’t forgotten about what you did for my brother, that’s why I’m here. I’m not your enemy anymore, Y/N.”
Just then, the roaring engine of a classic red Ferrari pulled up to the curb, interrupting the unexpected conversation you were having with your ex-husband’s former mistress. The window rolled down to reveal a pink-haired man whom you recognized as Ryomen Sukuna, an up and coming tech mogul, that Toji had mentioned about many times before. His eyes were only on one woman alone, and it wasn’t you. “Ready to go, babe?”
Honestly, good for Sera. No wonder her aura had become different. They seemed to be in a stable committed relationship, something that you could only ever dream about. If karma was truly real, this was the perfect example for it.
In the back seat, you spotted a younger boy who looked exactly like Sukuna and, surprisingly, Megumi, the son of your ex-fiancé. Really? How many more people were you going to ‘coincidentally’ run into today?
“Hello, miss!” the other boy called out cheerfully, while Megumi offered a polite nod. You replied with a wave, feeling a small sense of normalcy in their innocent presence.
“I gotta get going, Y/N,” excused Sera, gesturing a civil goodbye.
But as she moved to get into the car, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A single glance at the screen made your heart drop. It was a call from the hospital.
“Hello?” you answered almost immediately, pressing the phone on your ears with a tight push.
“Ms. Y/N, this is the hospital. Your son, Sachiro Gojou, is in the ICU. We need you to come as soon as possible.”
Your stomach contracted into a tight ball as you stood rigid with terror. Then and there, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. “Wh-What do you mean he’s in the hospital?!” you managed to shout, swept by horripilation from the sudden news. “What happened to my son?! What’s—!”
Sera’s concerned gaze met yours as you desperately yelled into the phone, hyperventilating. Your trembling hand was threatening to drop the phone. “Y/N, is everything okay?”
“My son… I… he…,” you stammered, your voice shaky with fear and urgency. Your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, eyes wide with astonishment, and surprise rendering you immobile. The thought of Sachiro in a critical state was about to make you faint, with the last bits of images you saw that afternoon were of Sera and her boyfriend rushing to catch you from completely falling to the ground.
——
Megumi didn’t know how to deliver the bad news.
He came home after Yuuji’s brother rushed you to the hospital, shocked by everything that happened in a span of a single day. His mind was aching from all the thinking he was doing; praying that little Sachiro will be fine, hoping that you would stay strong throughout, and lastly, wondering how he would break it to his dad that something terrible had happened.
His father wasn’t exactly the greatest man to tread this Earth, especially not after the drunken words he had ‘mistakenly’ uttered to you that night in Miami that resulted in your separation. Yes, Megumi knew every word and detail. His father told him everything just as a sober man would. Did you really think that the Toji Zen’in you knew would sputter that utter nonsense to you? That you had an empty soul. That he couldn’t be with someone like you. That you would forever be a placeholder to Megumi’s mother. Bullshit. None of those were true. His father told him that the reason he had to say those words, as piercing and trenchant as they may be, was because it was the only way he could free you from being caged in a relationship your heart didn’t genuinely want.
It was Toji’s last resort to hurt you with his words, hoping that you would wake up from your false fantasy and finally have a reason to leave a relationship with a man that wasn’t Satoru Gojou. If Megumi’s father wasn’t at the top of the list of Forbes’ richest men in Japan, he would have felt a great deal of inferiority complex over a younger man like Gojou. Not because of his looks and his riches, but because he had you. No matter what Satoru did, no matter how many times he hurt you, he was and would always be that man you wanted to be with.
Sighing, Megumi’s first task upon coming home was to check on his father’s room, only to find the dark room void of its owner. When he made his way down the grand staircase, he met an ill-spirited Naoya who was ranting to Mai about Sera flaunting Sukuna in front of his face. Megumi’s sigh was then followed by another. The drama in this house was relentless. He felt like he was exhaling endlessly, like a malfunctioning appliance.
“Where’s dad?” asked Megumi, directing her question to a more rational Maki.
The tall, green-haired girl gave him a knowing shrug. “You already know,” she said, “Drowning himself in alcohol down at the bar.”
As always.
Megumi jogged around the estate to eventually find his father at one of the wet bars near his home office. He was there, seated on a stool, his head drooping low with a glass of premium scotch in hand. How many glasses he’d had, Megumi could only hope the numbers weren't that high. But upon approaching his father, his presence was barely acknowledged as he sat on the stool next to him, suggesting that the grown man might be more inebriated than his son had expected.
“Dad,” spoke the Zen’in heir, “Dad, you good?”
Toji lifted his head up, three sheets to the wind, as a smile crept up on his scarred lips. “Son.”
“Let me take that.” Megumi grabbed a hold of the glass of scotch, sliding the strong liquor away from his father. “There’s something I ought to tell you.”
Toji stayed nonchalant, sitting upright and tapping his fingers on the counter. “What’s it about this time?” he asked. “I’ve told you, I can’t stop the elders from arranging your marriage unless you’re honest with me about someone you like. I know you have someone in mind, but you’re not saying who. Are you just shy?”
Megumi gave his father a look of exasperation. He’s rambling, he thought, frustrated with his father’s inebriated chattering. “It’s not about that. It’s about Y/N-san.”
The mention of your name was the only thing that made Toji's demeanor shift to one of genuine concern. “What happened?”
“Sachi’s in a critical condition,” the younger Zen’in went straight to the point, “Y/N-san went manic over it and fainted before we could get her to the hospital.”
Toji was quick to grab his coat and car keys, as if all the alcohol in his system had immediately evaporated. But before he could leave, Megumi caught his father’s arm and pulled him back.
“What?” said Toji, concern and urgency blanketing his gaze. “I need to be with her.”
“Do you really need to?” Megumi countered. “Dad, I know it’s not right for me to stop you in this crucial situation, but are you gonna do this every time she’s in trouble? Do you plan to do this forever? Do you plan to keep drowning yourself in alcohol thinking about her? We care for her like family, that’s true, but you and her aren’t a thing anymore. Your responsibilities in taking care of her should stop, too. You, yourself, said it’d be best if she stopped being reliant on you. Now, do yourself a favor and stop trying to be this pathetic superhero.”
The concern etching on Tojis’s face softened into a sense of realization, a sense of candidness that only someone as straightforward as his own son could evoke. Megumi had to, not because he didn’t care for you anymore, but because he had to ensure he wouldn’t lose his father over a relationship that had already ended. Toji was the only real family Megumi had left.
“Stay, dad,” he pleaded, “Please.”
Toji took a deep breath and released it in the same second. “Okay,” he softly said, ruffling his son’s hair. “I won’t leave.”
——
Why is it that you keep attracting things, places, and people that you disliked the most?
You hated hospitals, and you had spoken about it enough to make it clear how much you dreaded going to a place where your worst memories had taken root. Yet, the sterile environment seemed to beckon you, dragging you back with a new nightmare each time. It was beyond your worst fears that you would find yourself racing through the halls mere minutes after regaining consciousness, desperately trying to reach where your son was.
Please be okay. Please be okay.
Frantically, you scanned the corridors, searching for the ICU and hoping that what you had just heard was nothing more than a cruel illusion, that this was all just a nightmare. You weren’t a deeply devout person, but you did send prayers to every saint you could think of, hoping that Sachiro’s current state wasn’t in the median between life and death.
Because if you lost your son, then there was no point in living anymore. This life wouldn’t be worth enduring.
“Y/N!”
You weren’t the first one to arrive outside the pediatric ICU, with Gen and your father already being there moments before you came. You were struggling to breathe by the time you reached them, feeling your heart race with a thunderous beat. “Gen… Dad, what h-happened to him?” You couldn’t stop the weakness in your voice. “Tell me he’s fine, please. Please. My baby. If anything h-happens to him, I’m g-gonna die, Gen! I c-can’t h-have that!”
Gen quickly enveloped you in a tight embrace, trying to offer any form of comfort she could. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Dad and I are just as shocked.” She held you closer, her voice trembling as she, too, was just as anxious as you. “Sachi refused to eat and complained about having a hard time breathing. He was so pale and his lips were blue. We knew we had to rush him to the hospital immediately.”
“Oh my God.” Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the uncontrollable cries that were escaping. The news of Sachiro developing cyanosis shattered your heart, and the crushing reality that you weren’t there to take care of him tore you apart. “My baby, no. No, no. H-He—”
“Y/N!”
Out of breath and also visibly shaken was the father of your son, Satoru, who came running to your side the moment his eyes landed on you. Behind him was his mother, clutching a rosary in her hand as both of them were seemingly shell-shocked in the same magnitude as you and your family were. Everyone cared for Sachiro’s well-being, everyone prayed for his safety, and the thought of losing an angel like your son was a soul-crushing thought that sent you slipping into a chasm of suffering.
“Wh-What happened to Sachi?” Satoru asked in desperation, his question raised to everyone in the vicinity—you, your family, the nurses. But no one could give him a decent answer. “Please, tell me my son’s alright. Tell me.”
You watched him walk in circles, raking his fingers through his hair as if he was seeking anything to hold onto. And you, feeling that magnet that pulled you closer to him, broke away from Gen’s embrace to look at your son’s father. “Satoru…”
“Y/N,” his voice cracked as he met your gaze, “Our son.” He stopped, ready to wrap you in a hug—a moment of solace you both desperately needed in this critical time. But just as he pulled you close in a fragile attempt to find comfort together, the door to the ICU swung open, abruptly ending the brief respite.
All of you immediately rushed over to the doctor, the sterile white walls and the distant hum of hospital machinery did nothing to calm the turmoil inside you.
“Doctor, how’s he?”
“How’s my grandson, doc?”
“Doc, my son, is he okay?”
“Is he stable, doc?”
“Doctor, how’s my son, please?” you asked, your body growing tense to the point of shaking.
The doctor took a deep breath, his expression serious amidst the fusillade of questions thrown at him. “We’re currently running a series of tests on the patient. We suspect Sachiro may have congenital heart disease, specifically a ventricular septal defect with associated pulmonary hypertension.”
No, it can’t be. It’s not possible! The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You struggled to process the information, your vision blurring with tears and your heart drumming a rapid staccato inside. You didn’t need to look at everyone to know that they all, for a moment, looked at you. “Heart disease? But… how? I didn’t think—”
“Can you explain more, doc? Please.” Gojou was desperate, his bright blue eyes now dull and severely clouded with a brewing storm. It was as if he was keeping himself from crying.
The doctor continued gently, “VSD is a condition where there’s a hole in the heart’s ventricular septum. It can lead to pulmonary hypertension, which means the blood pressure in the lungs is elevated. It’s a serious condition, but we’re doing everything we can to assess the extent and provide the best treatment.”
“N-No, oh God. My baby.” You felt your knees go weak, and you sank down against the wall, with more tears cascading down your cheeks like waterfall. The weight of the diagnosis was crushing, but the hardest part was realizing that this was something you had unknowingly passed on to Sachiro. The heart disease was inherited from you and had now manifested in your beloved son.
It’s my fault. It’s my fault!
The doctor placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have more information. Please, try to stay calm, Y/N. It’s not best for your heart to panic right now. Sachiro is in good hands.”
You were unable to speak through the sobs that wracked your body. The hospital corridor felt endless, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and helplessness that consumed you. You could feel all eyes on you, judging, harboring hatred, carrying deep-rooted resentment. You were torn apart by the knowledge that the very thing you had feared most was now a reality for your son.
“It’s… It’s my fault,” you sobbed, covering your face with your quivering hands, “This is all my fault. I gave it to Sachiro, I… I’m a terrible mother!”
Gen knelt beside you, her hands gripping your shoulders with a firm yet gentle touch. “Y/N, stop it. This is not your fault. You didn’t choose this for Sachiro.”
Your father, who had been pacing anxiously nearby, joined in. “Your sister’s right. You’re blaming yourself for something beyond your control. We’re all here for you. We’ll figure this out.”
But amidst your familial exchange, Satoru stood nearby, frozen and listless. His silence only added to the overwhelming distress. Was he also blaming you for what Sachiro was going through right now? Was he also angry at you for putting his son into this critical situation?
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the commotion—voice that was equally harsh and spiteful. It was Satoru’s mother, boring her fiery eyes into your skull as she opened her mouth. “That’s right! You’re self-aware, aren’t you?” she spat and stood rigidly, arms crossed defensively over her chest. “This is all your fault. You’re such an irresponsible mother! You can’t even take care of my grandson properly, and now you’ve passed your disease onto him!”
You looked up in shock, seeing Satoru’s mother standing there with a disdainful expression. The sting of her words felt like a knife twisting in your heart, because they were true. They were painful, yes, but they were true. And all you could do was lower yourself until you were sitting on your haunches, trying to make yourself as small as possible.
“Excuse me?!” Gen stood up, her eyes blazing with anger that came from the deepest pits of hell. “You’re unbelievable, Auntie. How dare you speak to my sister like that! You have no right to blame her for this. I hope to God it was you in the ICU right now instead of Sachiro!”
“You…!”
Satoru’s mother raised a hand to slap Gen, but your father stepped forward, his face a mix of disbelief and indignation. “This is despicable. How can you stand here and say such things to someone who’s already suffering? Weren’t you friends with my wife once?”
Satoru, who had been standing still, suddenly moved with a menacing calm. His face was hard as stone, and his eyes narrowed in anger. What was scarier was him approaching his mother with a threatening stance. “Are you really this pathetic, mother?” Satoru questioned with a cold, cutting tone. “Do you get off on making Y/N suffer? Do you think you’ve gotten away with slapping her behind my back? You don’t get to blame Y/N for anything. Any fucking thing!”
His mother’s eyes widened in shock, but she tried to defend herself at the ruthless stance her son was carrying. All of you were stunned at the realization of how Satoru resembled his cruel father at that moment. “B-But Satoru, my son—”
“Shut up!” Satoru cut her off, his voice harsh and unforgiving, before he threw his cold knuckles against the hard surface of the concrete wall. “I don’t want to see your face ever again! Don’t consider yourself my mother any longer, you witch. You’ve lost that privilege.”
This took a wild turn, and hearing the brutality of Satoru’s words was like a thunderclap in the tense atmosphere. His mother’s face turned pale, her mouth opening and closing in shock as she struggled to respond.
“Get out of here,” Satoru commanded, his voice uncaring towards her. “Leave, and don’t ever come back. You’re nobody to me now.”
With that, Satoru’s mother turned and fled, stumbling down the corridor as if she was the victim in this situation. However, the tension in the air began to dissipate as soon as she left, leaving you, Satoru, Gen, and your father in a heavy silence. Only your sniffles could be heard.
Even Gen, who was often hostile around your ex-husband, had remained quiet and composed after she watched him take such drastic measures to keep his mother away.
Everyone was silent. Pure, unbothered silence until Satoru’s phone began to buzz loudly, cutting through the stillness of the hallway. For a moment, he closed his eyes, then he fished his phone out of his pocket where you caught a glimpse of the caller ID.
Akemi.
——
The ICU only allowed short visits and one person at a time, so there was no need for everyone to stay the night. You were the parent, you were the one responsible for your son’s situation, so you insisted it was best for your dad and Gen to go home and get some rest. You didn’t mind watching over your son for the whole night, because coming home without him was the last thing you would do right now.
My precious angel.
Sachiro lay in the hospital bed, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The doctors had managed to stabilize him for now, and the sight of his heart monitor showing a stable rhythm was a small comfort amidst the chaos.
Still, you sat by his bedside, mindful of your timed visit as your hands gently held his tiny ones, feeling the warmth of his small fingers. You glanced down at the medical report on your other hand, trying to make sense of the complex terms and figures.
The words blurred together as your tears fell silently onto the paper. “I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t deserve this. He’s just a baby. “Mommy’s very sorry.”
You tried to stay strong, putting on a brave face for your son, but inside, you were falling apart. It was impossible not to blame yourself over this, wishing you could do more than just be present around him. This was the comeuppance of your own actions after you focused on your own emotions for the past few weeks to the point of neglecting your son’s wellbeing. If you had been more present in his life, if you had been more observant, you would have easily noticed the signs. Now, you allowed Satoru to find a flaw in your duty as a mother, and he could cite this very event as evidence to get full custody of him. That is, if he were to ever consider taking your son away from you.
But in the first place, he should be the last person to do that, because where exactly was he now?
Your thoughts kept drifting back to the earlier scene, where he excused to answer Akemi’s call, and later that night told you he had to leave and “check something” urgently. He promised he’d be back before midnight, but where was he?
Resentment began to fester within you.
You had been very perceptive of Akemi’s feelings, apologetic in the way you supposedly betrayed her, but the fact that she was still scrambling for Satoru’s attention in the midst of your son’s hospitalization was something you could never forgive her for.
And as for Sachiro’s father, how could he prioritize another woman when his own son was in such a critical state? The confusion of his actions was overwhelming. It felt like a cruel deja vu that, at a time when you needed him the most, he was choosing to be elsewhere. You could accept it if it was a choice between you and another woman, but between his son and her? His behavior was unacceptable, disgusting even, and it only served to deepen your grudge against him.
You clenched your fists, trying to push away the surge of anger that threatened to consume you after seeing that the disparity in his actions felt like both a betrayal and a slap to the face. Your poor son. You stared at Sachiro’s peaceful face and stroked his cheek. How could Satoru be so indifferent to his own flesh and blood?
The room was silent except for the soft beeping of the heart monitor and your quiet sobs. The situation was almost too much to bear, and your resentment towards Gojou grew heavier by the second. Each minute felt like a lifetime, and the emptiness left by his absence was a constant reminder that yet again he chose another woman over his own family.
It’s okay. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. I won’t leave you, Sachi. For Sachiro’s sake, you needed to find the strength to carry on, to be the mother he needed in this moment of crisis and never again failing to be there for your only child.
At exactly 10:30 pm, the nurse came in and told you visiting hours were over. You complied.
At 11:00 pm, Ian paid you a quick visit and talked to the nurses, perhaps giving them reminders to look after you.
At 12:00 am, you were alone again. Seated at one of the benches outside the ICU—sleepless, starving, and nauseous.
At 2:00 am, you remained in your seat despite the sterile smell of antiseptic mingling with your own discomfort. The flickering fluorescent lights above did little to help you get some proper sleep. The cold air-conditioning alao made you shiver slightly, hugging your own body to try and give yourself some warmth.
At 4:00 am, you awakened from the noise of the movements beside you. Realizing you had fallen asleep, you looked up and saw Satoru taking a seat to your left. His coat was draped over his arm, and he offered it to you.
“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, but you could see the bags under his eyes suggesting the sleepless nights he’d had for the past few days. “You can use my coat.”
You took the coat, but as you caught a whiff of it, a familiar scent of Akemi’s perfume lingered. Rose Prick by Tom Ford. It was a scent you’d come to recognize after your years of being her best friend, and it made your stomach turn slightly. Without any hesitation, you handed the coat back to him. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. Looking into his eyes was the last thing you would do.
And you knew Satoru was sighing, but didn’t press the issue. “The nurse mentioned you haven’t eaten today.” He pulled out a small bag of assorted fruits, placing it gently on the seat between you. You eyed the offerings, feeling a pang of hunger but also a strange aversion. “I bought some fruit. Is there anything you like?”
You took a deep breath and broke the silence with a hint of sarcasm. “You’re really good at this, huh?”
“At what?” was his immediate question, puzzled.
“Hitting two birds with one stone.”
“Y/N…”
“Stop trying to take care of me,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than intended. “ I don’t need it.”
“But—”
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You can’t even be here for Sachi. You can’t even choose your son. He’s in a life and death situation and we’re still only receiving scraps of your attention.” It was the deep-seated grudge spilling out of you. “You’re so good at abandoning people, huh? Even though that’s what you hate the most. You’re so good at disappearing without even a text or call to check on me and our son. After that night at the cabin, you just…” you paused, realizing that you were opening too much of your heart to a man who didn’t deserve it. “Forget it. Just go home to Akemi. Live a happy life, build a family with her. Forget us. I don’t care. I’ll take care of Sachiro myself. I’ve done it for three years!”
“Y/N, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just…” Satoru fumbled for words, his somber blue eyes bearing the history of your shared heartbreak. It was as though the painful memories of your past were flooding his thoughts, seeking justification as to why he couldn’t pick you again this time. “I had to be there for her. She’s…”
You turned away before he could see your expression, because your heart was splintering at the thought of Satoru Gojou shattering it once more. As he always did. There seemed to be no end to this relentless heartbreak, as if any hope of a happy ever after with the man you loved would only return a pain that was a hundred times worse. Perhaps, this was destiny’s way of telling you that you and him weren’t meant to be. That any wishful thinking of being with Satoru again was only something that you could expect in another universe.
So, in your defense, you had to pull on a facade. A mask that you had to wear in the face of being the target of never-ending despair. “Satoru, I don’t want to talk about it,” you said firmly, concealing the raw ache in your voice with a smile. “And I don’t expect you to choose me every time. It’s okay. It’s happened before.”
“Can’t you see I’m hurting, too?” he asked, his voice breaking. Though you couldn’t see his face, the tremor in his voice revealed his struggle to hold back tears.
You couldn’t understand why he would be hurting with his decision. When faced with two crossroads, he always seemed to pick the path that led away from you. So instead of trying to comprehend his pain, you decided it was time to honor your own. For your sake. For Sachiro’s.
“Let’s just forget about that night,” you declared, wiping your eyes as you got up from your seat and prepared to walk away. “From this day forward, let’s pretend it never happened.”
——
Akemi’s apartment was dark when Satoru stepped inside.
And to be honest, the darkness was a relief. At least, she wouldn’t be able to see the lassitude etched on his face, not just from juggling his time between his son and her, but from the constant ache of hurting the person he loved.
Miscommunication is a couple’s greatest enemy, and the persistent disconnect between you two, coupled with the reluctance to clear things up, had worn Satoru down. He wanted to end this—the feeling of helplessness and the torment of seeing the woman he cared for caught in a labyrinth of despair.
The hospital visits to Sachiro alone had been a whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities, and this brief visit to Akemi felt like an unwelcome detour, but one he couldn’t avoid. Satoru knew his heart wanted to stay in the hospital with you, to wait for any updates on his son, to hold your hand and care for you, yet here he was, dragging his feet across the carpeted floors to approach Akemi.
“Hey.” She was sitting on the couch, looking frail but alert as if she had been desperately waiting on his arrival. She had recently started treatment for her stage 3 endometrial cancer, and Satoru could see the toll it was taking on her, physically and emotionally. He would be cruel to leave her hanging like this, to neglect her at her worst when she had been there by his side at his. Satoru had an unspoken accountability on her, because it wouldn’t be fair for him to just abandon her after she poured all her heart and soul into helping Gojou get back onto his own feet.
“Hey, ‘Kemi,” he said, his tone soft but distant. “Did you take your meds today?”
Akemi looked up at him, her eyes tired and heavy. “I did. I took them just like the doctor said. How’s Sachiro?”
Gojou’s expression tightened. “He’s holding steady at the moment.”
A heavy silence settled between them before Akemi broke the tension. “I’m glad he’s stable,” she said, quietly. “Are you okay?”
He nodded once, his mind already drifting back to the hospital. “Yeah. Listen, I need to head back soon. Nanami and Miwa will be alternating in looking after you from now on. They’ll make sure you’re okay while I’m dealing with Sachiro. I have to focus on my son.”
Akemi’s frail hand reached out to gently grip his arm, the other held her lower abdomen in pain. “Satoru, please don’t go just yet. Can’t you stay a little longer?”
Now’s not the time to feel guilty. It was either her or Sachiro. Her or his son. Gojou decided to pull his arm away gently, his gaze distant. “Sachiro needs me, Akemi. You know that.”
Akemi’s face fell, but she knew it would be ridiculous to argue over that. “No, I understand. I get that. I want you to focus on Sachi, too. I just wish—” Before she could finish, her voice faltered, and she looked up at him with a hesitant gaze. “Satoru, do you regret that I took you back even if you cheated on me?”
The question caught him off guard, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrowed as he processed her words. He had been so focused on his responsibilities and the immediate crisis that he hadn’t given much thought to their ‘relationship’. All he knew was when he showed up at her doorstep back at the cabin, he was only going to try and end things with her. He was only going to clarify the longstanding feelings you and him poured out to each other that night, which was why he ended up sleeping with his ex-wife. But because Akemi suffered at the time, because her pelvic pain worsened to the point of an emergency, he had to hold back and just take care of her in the weeks that passed. He was caged in this situation like a prisoner who was found guilty for the crimes he had committed.
Just be honest, Satoru. Disregard everything else and just be honest. Satoru believed it was about time he stood his ground no matter the consequences. “You can’t take me back if we’re not together, ‘Kemi,” he breathed out those words, reticent on hurting her with the truth. If she would lash out on him, throw a vase on his head, slam a book on his face—he wouldn’t mind. He was ready to accept all the violence he deserved from being an asshole. “You knew from the start that this, us, was only temporary. It was never supposed to be serious.”
Her expressions turned doleful. “Then, in that case, did you at least…” Tears welled up in her eyes as she she paused, “Did you at least love me?”
“I just… I never saw it that way, Akemi.” Satoru’s honesty would destroy her, but he didn’t want to keep on sending out false hopes. He had to be firm, and while he was grateful for everything she did for him, that doesn’t mean he owed her his life and loyalty. In the first place, he warned her that he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. And God, he was far from ready to even settle down, yet Akemi constantly hinted at wanting to tie the knot with him. Again and again did she mention the thought of a wedding and a child and her own family.
Satoru wanted all those things too, but with another person in mind. He was only set on having those things with one woman.
Akemi’s face paled upon hearing his answer and the fact that he didn’t even bother to explain himself. “I see. I guess I needed to hear that.”
Gojou looked at her with a mix of regret and sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you like this, I really do.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
It definitely wasn’t fine, but Satoru had to take her word for it as he got out from the couch and gave her a gentle pat on the head. “I have to go. Nanami will be here soon. Please make sure to follow the treatment plan and take care of yourself.”
Akemi nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Alright. I’ll see him when he gets here.”
As Gojou turned to leave, he felt a pang of guilt twisting deep in his gut but pushed it aside. He was a father first before anything else. Sachiro would always be his first and foremost priority amongst everything else.
——
After leaving Akemi’s place, Satoru was driving his car into the evening air beyond the speed limit. And his mind was racing together with him as he thought of you, your son, and the myriad of emotions he was struggling to manage. He couldn’t wait to be home, not literally at his own place, but anywhere with you and his son was his definition of home.
It would be diabolical for him to run into your arms and yell, ‘I’m free! We can be together again!’ No, that would be cruel and disgusting. He respected Akemi just as he respected you. It was himself that he couldn’t respect, because he was the one responsible for the mess that he created. And adding Sachiro’s critical condition on top of the already festering wounds in your relationship? It truly was the manifestation of karma in his actions.
His footsteps bounced through the hospital corridors the moment he arrived, each impatient step was ready to see your face and tell you he would never leave you and Sachiro now. But as he neared the pediatric ICU, his eyes darted around, the sight of his ex-wife was nowhere to be found. And instinctively, his heart pounded in his chest, and a drum of panic seemed to warn him of a storm that was about to come. Something was off, and it scared him.
“Nurse,” he called out, his voice edged with urgency as he approached their station. “Where’s my wife? The boy’s mother?”
The nurse looked up, recognizing the infamous CEO’s face. “Uh, Mr. Gojou, she was heading to the rooftop, I think.”
“What?!” he unintentionally yelled at her face, “Why didn’t you guys keep an eye on her?”
“Sir, calm down. She’s probably going to get some fresh air.”
A cold chill ran down his spine. You were definitely not there for that.
Without another word, he sprinted towards the stairs, taking them two at a time instead of waiting at an elevator together with a group of people. He had to get to you as soon and as fast as he could without another second to waste. Although the climb felt endless, his mind racing with fear and dread was the push he needed to finally reach you.
And upon bursting through the door to the rooftop, he was met with the soft whisper of the evening wind and the heart-stopping sight of you standing perilously close to the edge.
“Y/N!” he called out, his voice breaking with desperation. “Don’t do this. Please, step back.”
You stood motionless, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of sorrow. “The world hates me, Satoru,” you whispered, the mellow tone of your voice carried away by the wind. “I’m a burden to everyone, even my own child. I-I just… I want to end it all.”
“No!” Satoru’s heart shattered at your words while he moved closer, his hands outstretched and careful not to startle or provoke you. He was dying to have you in his arms and keep you safe. “Y/N, please. Come back. What about Sachi? What about me? We need you. Sachiro needs you. I need you.”
What exactly made you go here? How did thoughts of ending yourself suddenly come into fruition? Was there something you discovered that brought you to this ultimatum? Gojou was desperate, utterly desperate, to hear what was running through your mind so that he could at least ease the burden that you were carrying all by yourself. He was once in the position where he wanted to commit too, and he knew the temptation that came with permanently escaping the cruelty of the world in just a single action.
“Y/N, please. Please, I’m begging. Come to me,” he rattled on in a suffocating whisper, the pleading in his voice was heavy, “Please. I love you. Only you.”
It was when you turned around that Gojou’s world collapsed, and the words you said after had shattered his entire universe.
They were still.
You.
And the wind.
“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice cracking as you looked at the faint tears that fell from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.”
#series: sincerely yours#gojo satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojou satoru x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#gojo angst#gojo x reader
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