#meds are so fucking complicated i hate it

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni.

wc: 9.3k

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you are on: prodromal. (part four)

a/n:

hiii lovelies <3 i wanna start out with an apology because this was much, much later than i wanted to post :( i am so sorry! i really appreciate all the love and can't wait to reply all the comments on ao3 and tumblr :,) you guys are amazing and keep my passion for writing going. anyways, word count is 9.3k !!! record highs breaking every chapter haha <3 i hope you all find this enjoyable after a long dry spell :) and as always, credit to my beta reader @beeh-ive ily bih

ao3 link here.

prodromal. (part four)

sukuna had discovered three key truths when he drove back home after yuuji kicked him out of his apartment. 

yuuji was right about sukuna. it was annoying to admit that his baby brother was right about anything, let alone something so fundamental to his character. it was easier to bark out orders and shelter him from the world. to not hear him be a mature person with complicated thoughts and his own perceptions— especially the ones about sukuna. deep down he knew he couldn’t keep yuuji unaware forever. he couldn’t deny that the events of their childhood scattered his soul, which he has since collected and duct taped together over the years. he knew he was a shitty person. better than anyone else. in the late hours of night he was kept up by the memories of their childhood, ones he couldn't burden yuuji or guilt their grandfather with. it was his to keep and bury within that duct taped soul. he had made peace with it, he thought.

he could respect yuuji’s wishes (withholding some information). messing with you was just an excuse to spend more time in your presence. if that wasn’t possible, he’d find ways around it. a small voice deep down was adamant to say attached to you, everyone be damned. 

he had seen you that day walk into the coffee shop in that gorgeous outfit, skirt swishing with every move of your hips, completely captivating him. moreover, he witnessed how you spoke with suguru and it made something tick inside. he’s never gotten jealous of his best friends, not until this very moment. who was he, that you smiled so big for him? hold on, why the fuck was suguru touching your hair? 

he pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket and lit it aggressively, smoke engulfing the sight before him. suguru was a friendly guy, he was often surrounded with women due to this fact. sukuna was well aware of it; and honestly didn’t care until he was witnessing before his eyes you becoming a part of that equation. 

friend or not, he wanted to barge in there and yank you away from his selfish, dirty and unwelcome hands. motherfucker. 

while his angry thoughts were steaming, sukuna didn’t realize suguru had left and was already making his way towards him at the bricks. sukuna’s eyes focused back and found the man towering over him, a question mark painted on his face. “thinking about something?”

sukuna flicked the ash gathering on his cigarette off of it and inhaled another puff. an exhale. “i’m gonna get a drink really quick.” he couldn’t look at suguru’s face without the urge to pound him into the ground, the scene of his fingers touching your hair on loop again and again in his mind. so, he pushes off the wall, crushing his cigarette with his boot, and makes his own way into the tacky coffee shop. he hated the sugary nature of the place, it was so suffocating. satoru loved coming around to buy sweets, but sukuna never let the man sit and stay at a table if he was dragged into accompanying the white-haired idiot. the girl at the register looked mildly nervous when he stalked inside, which was a common reaction he got given his tattoos and looming figure. sukuna’s eyes drifted to the display of pastries and bread, scanning. he recalled you eating chocolates during your study hangouts with yuuji, the goddamn wrappers always littered on the table. he decided the little chocolate pillow-looking thing (he refused to pronounce whatever the fuck a pain au chocolat is) would suffice, his eyes flitting to the sight of you getting verbally abused by your loud friend. “um.. what can i get you, sir?” the small voice of the attendant brought him back to the front. he nodded, pulling out his wallet. “that chocolate square shit.” she hummed in acknowledgement, and began getting the tong to pack it away. sukuna stopped her. “er.. actually, i’m buying this for someone. you see that girl over there? with the green ribbons?” she looked at him with wide eyes, then found you. she nodded slowly. “that’s my girl. give it to her for me?” “o-oh! how sweet.. will do, sir! anything else for you, then?” he shakes his head. sukuna leaves, paying for your little treat. and now, he waits. suguru looked at sukuna and noticed his empty hands, even more confused than before.

“didn’t you say you were getting a drink?” 

“changed my fuckin’ mind.” 

he pulled another cigarette out to light and his friend sucked his teeth in response. “you really need to find another vice. nicotine is total shit, man. ‘s why i started weed instead, y’know–” 

“suguru, please shut the fuck up.” 

suguru’s mouth pops in mild shock, but he obliges. he knew well it wasn’t worth picking a fight with sukuna when his mood was sour, he learned that by watching satoru try sukuna’s patience on the daily. his eyes trail your figure making your way to the register and the scene unfolds exactly like he asked. he chuckled as you started looking around exasperatedly, finally meeting his eyes. he gave you a little wave. you ignore him, the treatment he’s been getting for a while now. in due time, sukuna thought. in due time he would chip at your resolve, little by little, until your walls completely broke down. discreetly and respectfully, of course.

because above all, yuuji didn’t have to know about his attempts. sukuna didn’t intend to lie, per say.. he just decided he could have his cake and eat it too. said cake being you.

and so this brings us to the final and most universal truth:

3. he needed you in the rawest form possible. the realization was natural. when you had asked him that night upstairs, he was caught up in words because he didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing– it was delicate. but he needed you. sukuna didn’t know how to describe why in words either.. he was studying engineering, you think he was killing it in english literature?  he just knew the feeling you gave him, the one that ignited a fire in his chest and a desire to orbit your sun. he had decided he wasn’t going to let you put him on the sidelines anymore; developing the fake half-way point to pursuing you in silence.

your internship was much more simple than you expected. while your interest in professor kaito’s research was high and got your foot in the door, the actual work was rather lackluster. you spent maybe three hours at your desk organizing files and sending simple emails, but other than that? you were just passing time. 

you had met her other student assistants a couple days into it, also in your graduation year. a mild mannered blonde man named kento and his super-positive friend, haibara. you thought kento outright hated you in the beginning, but quickly understood he was just another overworked college student. poor guy.

it really helped having something to take your mind off of sukuna’s futile attempts at catching your attention that had begun a month ago.

oh, how he was irking you. 

the bakery freebie was the first of many unnecessary gestures sukuna had done. he had made it a habit to buy you food and have it reach you in the weirdest ways. just last week, he had hit a new low by having a doordash guy somehow get you energy drinks and candies in the middle of a lecture. a note was attached that read, ‘don’t fall asleep, pretty. -s’. you were embarrassed, but thankfully the professor didn’t notice. you also took it up to apologize profusely to the doordash guy for having to fulfill such a weird request— you had handed him a crumpled up five dollar bill from your backpack because you felt so bad. your lunch got paid for randomly, your backpack had tiny presents waiting for you when you opened it, the list was endless. you were not only irritated but also mildly spooked that sukuna was able to evade your presence and manage these stunts simultaneously. he was like a romantic batman. ew, what? no. that doesn’t even make sense.

you were walking up to your apartment door late one night to see a deep red bag with black tulle stuffed into it sitting in front of it. you knew there was nobody else that would leave a gift like this in front of your door, and so you begrudgingly took it inside. it was rather heavy, which made you curious as to what exactly sukuna got you this time. 

as you put it on your tiny kitchen table, pulling tulle away from the bag, you spot the gold-embossed box. it was a really expensive brand you had heard of but never dared to think about buying from. you could hear your parents’ voices echoing in your head about being fiscally responsible, eliciting a shiver. carefully breaking the seal, you lift the lid to see the most gorgeous pair of maroon high-heeled mary janes. and once more, a note stuck to the tissue wrappings:

 ‘for my red ruby girl. -s’

your first emotion couldn’t be anger when the gift was so thoughtful like this. you giddily squeal and try them on— a perfect fit. but how? sukuna never asked for your size.. and you doubt yuuji would tell him without ruining the surprise for you. he’s so weird for that, you thought. 

you walk to your floor length mirror in your bedroom and stare at the shoes, thinking. 

he pays attention to what you like.

this was a stupid realization; he’d been getting you snacks and miscellaneous tidbits that were undoubtedly your favorites for a while. but it hits you nonetheless, your cheeks’ blush growing. you slowly sit on the ground, knees to your chest. what the fuck. you dig your fingers into the shaggy carpet, pressing down hard. you were hoping the hurty-happy ache in your fingers would go away, the one you get when you feel deeply emotional. the attempts he had made were like little vines growing over your heart, ones you had ignored for far too long and now they squeeze you tightly as if to say, “i’m literally never fucking leaving bitch!” 

you jolt when your doorbell rings. a melodic knock follows. “open up, buttercup! i’m hereeeee,” nobara voice was muffled by the door but recognizable enough. you leap to your feet, nearly tripping on your way to throwing the door open. 

nobara takes one suspicious look at your shabbily-hidden nervousness and calls your bluff. “were you watching R-rated shit? because if so i can totally leave, no problem.” your voice squeaks in an ungodly high pitch, spluttering gibberish before you manage an “oh my god no, what the fuck!” she cackles at your reaction and slaps a hand on your shoulder, moving to enter the flat. “you’re so easy to mess with babe, i worry for you at times! really. i do.” 

her eyes catch the shiny box that lay open on the table. “is that xtique? they’re mad expensive, girl! you actually bought something from there?” “no!” you quickly burst, making nobara jump at the sudden denial. “i mean, no, it was a gift from my… father! for the internship.” you point to your feet and she gives an impressed hum. “they’re super sexy-looking. your dad has good taste.. weirdly enough.” you didn’t really know what to say to that without it seeming weird or ruining your last-minute lie, so you just chuckle and nod. 

you like chocolate, especially when it’s melty or gooey in something. you hate tomatoes. which is odd, because you’re okay with ketchup and marinara sauce, but anything with a tomato that the eye can see you don’t touch. you drink a lot of coffee after lectures. you love little cute trinkets, but don’t have that many. 

sukuna was learning about you; and applying the information as soon as he did. granted, you looked positively enraged every time you saw his notes. he also saw your face turn red, so he has to be doing something right. the way your lips quirk for a moment before the eventual frown and looking around for him was pretty adorable. whatever it was, sukuna’s plan was in motion and working as he wanted. the lengths he went for you were unheard of for the usual suitor, but sukuna was a crafty guy (when he wants to be). he tipped off the doordash guy that snuck into your lecture hall an extra twenty dollars in cash to be quiet and unnoticed by the professor. he somehow made friends with the girl at the coffee shop— said her name was christy? kristen? fuck if he knew, to be honest. he really just kept familiar with her so he could have her deliver pastries and coffee from him.  

“this bast– RYOMEN! the fuckin’ oil!” sukuna snaps out of his train of thought to see he was still at work, not in his daydreams. he never got into his thoughts like this, what…? whatever. it was about you, so he didn’t feel as bad. he cursed when he saw the oil pan was slightly away from under the plug, letting the oil spill all over the deck. “i swear to god ryo, you better clean that shit up before you clock out,” choso chided. his cousin-slash-coworker genuinely never caught a break with sukuna and his antics. one of the downsides of working at the shop the family owned, he assumed. but truly, choso was getting gray hairs from the amount of stress that man gave him. sukuna simply waved him off, discarding his rag that was now soaked in old oil. checking his watch, he realized he is close to his clock out time. in five minutes, he messily cleaned up the deck and made his exit, clicking his helmet on and driving out. at a stoplight, sukuna hears some giggling from the car next to him. he pans to see four girls with their windows down, now squealing because sukuna noticed them. one had her phone up, recording him? while another gestures as if asking for his phone number. sukuna scoffs out of irritation. really? he throws up his left hand which was gloved and gestures to his ring finger. they go silent and roll up their windows, embarrassed. a little lie to get them off his case was harmless, he didn’t care either way. technically, it was true he was “promised” to someone, that being you. eventually, he declares in his head. eventually. his head swivels to look at the buildings beside him instead of the cars while he waits for the light to flip. his eyes catch on shiny, ruby shoes in a display of a boutique-looking store. they looked awfully like the ones he saw at your apartment, and at the door the times you stayed over at yuuji’s. sukuna decides to detour and turns into the parking lot for the fancy shop. 

when he walks in he notes it’s rather small, his large frame mildly cramping the area. it was silent and empty, save for the soft jazz playing overhead. a small but peppy old woman bustles out of the back, heels clacking. she was wearing a fancy two piece suit in some kind of purple(it’s periwinkle, but would sukuna really know that?) 

she was about to greet him out of habit when a small “good heavens!” leaves her mouth, in sight of her new customer. she apologizes profusely for the sudden reaction while chuckling nervously. “you’re not our usual patron, you’ll have to forgive me for my outburst dearie!” she runs a manicured hand through her blowout hair, giving a warm smile to him. 

sukuna becomes a bit hyper-aware he was in an oil-stained wife pleaser and slacks, and his usual leather jacket. right. he just grunts and nods, looking around the store. pastel pink and gold adornments littered the walls, the smell of roses infiltrating his nose. all it was missing was you sitting in the middle of it all, honestly. this place was unironically your persona. 

he turns to the display, thumb pointed to the shoes he saw. “you got those in stock?” the lady perks up and immediately gets to work, buzzing around the store to grab boxes. “why of course! is this for a mother, sister? girlfriend, maybe?” sukuna simply nods. “girlfriend.” she giggles melodically, opening and closing boxes. “how sweet of you! she must be one special girl,” sukuna imagines you opening the box and wearing the shoes, your giddy excitement in private. he smiles faintly at the thought. “very.”

she finally finds the set of ruby shoes, and asks him for your size. he replies nearly instantly. he had seen your shoes so many times, the size was always written on the sole. so maybe he had it memorized, no big deal. numbers came easy to him anyways, he dealt with many of them in his studies and job. and maybe he had a section in his notes app for you. 

the old lady quickly wrapped up the shoes and stuffed black paper in the bag to hide the box. sukuna quickly pays, giving her a deep grumble of a thank you. she just smiles and waves him off. “i hope your girlfriend loves them!” as he leaves the shop she sighs with a bittersweet expression on her lips. she misses young love. 

as sukuna leaves the shiny boutique, he looks at the bag in his hand. was he doing too much? he hopes you would like it, and as far as he knows, you don’t own a pair of these in the red he picked. maybe it was selfish thinking that you would enjoy that same red hue you saw in his eyes, especially after that comment that lived in his subconscious. 

your eyes are sanguine red.

he grins to himself, walking a little faster to his bike.

nobara had stayed around for a couple of hours before she called it a night, saying something about how stupid she has to study for her exams when she’s a liberal arts student. you just chuckle and turn her loose. “you’re always welcome to ask me for help," you chide her. she scoffs and pushes you playfully. “no way. you’re like up to your ears in stuff, i couldn’t burden you. and anyways, you’re already helping yuuji and his two brain cells.” she waves you goodbye, and you head back up to your apartment once you see her get into her uber. 

you’re about to flop on your tiny couch when your phone rings. you groan internally when you see the caller id. 

“hello, father.” 

“you need to come home this weekend.” 

you frown. “i’m sorry?” 

“did you not hear me? you need to come home this weekend and help your brother with his entrance exams.” 

you’re in mild shock for a moment, making you go silent. surely he doesn’t think you have time to spend an entire weekend at home. you had so many things to juggle as it was, and your weekend was kind of your safe time. if something bled over from the week, you’d do it then, or hell, sometimes you just wanted to sit and watch a show or two. 

“..father, i’m not exactly free—“ 

“you’re lying. i know how many credit hours you’re doing and that internship of yours is the only extra activity in your time. seriously, when will you grow up? you have so many more duties to fulfill and you’re trying to get out of the simplest one.” 

you had such a difficult time reasoning with your father and it’s been this way since your childhood. he never saw what you wanted or what you accomplished. it was always “how can she benefit the family?” you let out a deep sigh. there was no getting out of this, you accept. 

“i’m sorry, father. i’ll be home on the weekend.” 

“good. your mother keeps asking about your health so don’t eat any rubbish.” 

you make a noise of agreement, but mentally you’re rearranging your tasks for the upcoming week to allocate time for the impromptu trip. he hangs up the phone without a goodbye, as usual. the dread you felt for the first eighteen years of your life settles back into your chest like an unwelcome old friend. you sink to the couch, rubbing your chest to ease the pain. you’re looking at the setting sun seeping in from the window, the light disappearing feeling awfully similar to your emotions right now.

it’ll be just another thing you’ll brave through, you suppose.

kento is washing beakers in the back of the lab room, but you know you felt his eyes on the back of your head. “yes, kento?” you say without turning around. he clears his throat to cover up the cough he let out of surprise. he did not think you would’ve noticed. “you just seem a little downtrodden today, is all.” you let out a sad laugh and walk over to help him dry the beakers. “well, you aren’t wrong, i guess,” you say absentmindedly. you woke up today with the same dread you felt earlier this week, which you had felt every day since the call until today— friday. the gloomy, rainy day didn’t help your mood either. 

“anything i can do to help, maybe?” you smile at your monotonous friend. you learned he was quite caring, but had a hard time mirroring it in his tone of voice. “actually, yeah. do you think you could cover the last hour for me? i’m going home for the weekend.” he nods, putting the last clean beaker in the crate. “no worries. i hope you enjoy your time at home.” you draw a heavy sigh. “i’ll try,” you manage with a deflected grin. 

you wave kento goodbye when you’re walking out the door of the lab, heaving your bags along with you. the rain hadn’t stopped by the time you were walking to your car, so you had to run to avoid drenching everything you had and yourself. 

the drive home was mostly silent, save for your playlist playing softly in the background of the car. the rain slows to a stop when you turn into your neighborhood, which makes you slightly annoyed. couldn’t it have stopped for you when you were getting a cold shower on the way to the car? once you pull up to your apartment complex, you notice something that immediately draws a groan from your lips. 

before you is a sleek black bike, and leaning on it was none other than the object of your irritation. his helmet sat on his seat and his pink hair was moussed by the rain, making it a more deep pink shade. his stupid grin churned your insides. turning the key off in the ignition, you step out of your car, walking towards him. 

you notice his fingers drumming on his seat. he seemed happy to see you? “forgot your umbrella?” he gestures to your head, and your face goes red. your hair was a little out of the ordinary after running through the rain. “shut the fuck up.” you quip dismissively, comb your fingers through your hair to try and fix it– but the moisture had already had its way with you. you give up with a huff. 

your eyes narrow at him. “are you stalking me?” you roll your eyes and cross your arms, clearly not in the mood to deal with sukuna’s games today. he protests with his hands up. “i’m no fuckin’ stalker, sweetheart. just came to drop off your jacket. yuuji said you left it at his place the other day.” you don’t remember leaving anything at yuuji’s, but lo and behold, sukuna takes a jacket out of his seat compartment that looks awfully like one of yours. you stiffly accept it and look away. 

“you free tonight?” your head snaps to meet his eyes and that stupid smirk shone back at you. you turn away to walk back to your car. “nope. sorry! i’m leaving right now,” you swiftly call back to him over your shoulder. because of your height difference, he catches up to you in three strides. 

he grabs your wrist, halting you before you reach the driver’s door handle. “hey, what’s the rush? you literally got back home,” he was right. you did have things to get from your apartment, but you were more annoyed with his ambush that you simply wanted to drive home to get away. 

“can’t you see i’m busy?” sukuna gives you a furrowed expression. “with what?” his gruff tonality replaces the playful one he had before.

you were literally at your breaking point, couldn’t he bother you another day? you yank your hand away from his grip. you give him an icy glare, unwilling to answer him. he takes your pause to maneuver around you and stand in front of the door, blocking you from entering the car. his sharp eyes zeroed in on the tension you’re trying so hard to hide. 

“what’s your problem?” he asks sternly, his voice pressing against you. you clench your jaw, refusing to speak up. you hope he’ll just let it go. 

but he doesn’t. 

he’s still watching you, studying the ticks of your expression, searching. 

“come on,” he pushes, his voice quieter but unrelenting. “what’s really going on with you?” 

why the fuck was sukuna always around you when you were doing horrible? it was so damn irritating. you take a breath, more shaky than you wanted to show him. 

he didn’t miss it. 

you’re fighting back the anxiety and frustration that’s about to spill tears. 

“i’m.. it’s nothing, i just need to go home,” your stomach is turning knots. you hate the face he’s giving you. it’s digging at you, and sukuna isn’t one to back away from confrontation. 

his gaze sharpens, his eyes flickering with something you can’t read. “you mean your family home? like with your dad?” 

he only heard one phone call with your father, for fuck’s sake. you almost felt angry he thought he knew exactly what was going on. your heartbeat was in your ears at this point. “what’s so urgent that you’re fuckin’ running away all stressed?” 

your fists tighten at your sides, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. you felt like the muddy asphalt was swallowing you. you didn’t realize you were crying until a tear slid down your cheek. the words followed behind like a tsunami. 

“you think i want to go home?! i get told something and he just expects me to do it with no questions! i don’t even.. i don’t even have time to do this, but he—”

your voice gets caught in a muffle. sukuna had wrapped you in his leather-clad arms, your face smushed in his chest. he smelled like smoke and gasoline, which was weirdly comforting. 

“just.. cry it out.” he mutters. 

his hand is stroking your hair softly, like you were a small child to be consoled. you didn’t care to protest his sudden actions. your fists grip his tank top as you sobbed into him. you don’t know how long you both stood like this, but you could’ve sworn at one point that he was shushing you like a baby, which was again— weirdly comforting. 

when you tilt your head up, eyes red and puffy, sukuna slips a chuckle. you slap his chest, offended. 

“your first reaction is to laugh at my misery, asshole?” 

“your eyes are swollen, sweetheart.” 

you curse and press the cold backside of your hands under your eyes, hoping to reduce the inflammation. you’re both in silence for a couple of moments, him just watching you while you pretended to not notice the holes he was burning into your head. 

he finally spoke up with a hand tapping your cheek. “c’mon, let’s go somewhere.” 

you give him a gaping shocked face. ‘i’m sorry, did you not just see me have a breakdown about needing to go home?” 

he rolls his eyes as if you were acting immature. god, now you know how yuuji must’ve felt growing up. sukuna was definitely as sassy as he was now. “that’s exactly why i’m saying that, idiot. you can go home first thing tomorrow morning.” 

you open your mouth to argue again, but the looming dread you had of facing your father tonight still makes your stomach sink. a night to take your mind off of the stress you’ve been bottling for days.. yeah, that sounds like exactly what you need. you hesitate, glancing up at sukuna’s face, searching for any hint of pity, but all you see is that stubborn determination he had. 

“fine,” you murmur, wiping your hands on your jeans. “but if this is some dumb excuse to make me do whatever you want…” he gives you a sly smirk, visibly amused again. “when have i ever needed an excuse for that?” you smack him again while he walks you over to his bike. 

he grabs the helmet from his bike and hands it to you, nudging you with his shoulder. “just one night, sweetheart. then you can go back and deal with… everything else.” 

you take the helmet and sigh, feeling the dread slowly lift from your chest as you click it on your head. after he climbs on the bike, he stretches a hand out to help you on which you take gratefully. he glances back at you with a soft smile you hadn’t seen since that night you bandaged his hands. 

he feels like a lifeline right now, albeit you didn’t want to admit that. you just needed an escape. 

you nearly scream when sukuna pulls into the “small spot” he said he knew. 

it was a traditional kaiseki house, one that screamed rich and elite. you were wearing casual clothes and your makeup had pretty much melted away after your cry session (you noticed that your mascara had also bled onto sukuna’s white tank top, so you scolded him until he zipped up his leather jacket with a grumble.) 

“you should’ve fucking told me we were going to a nice place, i could’ve gotten ready or something!” sukuna looked practically oblivious. “why?” he deadpans. you fight the urge to facepalm yourself and settle for an eye twitch. “sukuna, look at me.” you gesture to your face and clothes. he’s seriously aloof, giving you a monotone stare. “yeah, i’m looking. you look pretty, why?” oh. there’s nothing you can find to say to that because you genuinely didn’t see an ounce of deceit in his expression. he genuinely believed in what he said, it seems. you process the fact he called you pretty once you’re off the bike, which makes you a little bashful.

regardless, you tried to prim yourself before you stepped inside; praying no one paid attention to you and your unlikely date. that was obviously wishful thinking considering how big of a powerhouse sukuna looked inside the small joint, which made you curse him out mentally. does he eat entire horses? however, the server looked at sukuna with respect you didn’t expect, and sukuna talked to him with ease. you couldn’t believe the sight before your eyes; he was acting like a socialite with insanely proper manners. 

the server led you both to a private dining room, bowing as he closed the door behind you. you unbuckle the ruby shoes you were wearing, ironically the shoes sukuna had gifted you the week before. you hope he didn’t notice. 

sukuna takes the seat opposite you, sitting rather poised and formal. you giggle at him, breaking the royal silence you were in. he frowns at you, miffed.

“what?” 

“you’re like, trust fund boy sukuna right now. you look so serious i thought it was funny,” you explain. 

he grumbles and crosses his arms. “my grandfather… is big on etiquette.” he manages. 

you expect him to iterate further. “…aaaand?” you had sat down, resting your head on your hands, batting your lashes mockingly. 

his frown deepens at your antics. “grandpa owns a lot of businesses, so when me and yuu were young... he made us come to formal dinners. parties and shit. if we acted like fuckin’ animals, we’d get our asses beat.” you giggle at the thought of little sukuna causing a ruckus. 

“i bet you were a handful.” you tease. 

“more like yuu was. unmedicated adhd in a boy is hell.” you agree with a nod. you felt kind of warm inside knowing something new about sukuna. yuuji had told you in the past that they were well-endowed, but these details were cute and… endearing to you. 

“you like them?” you snap out of your thoughts to see sukuna gesturing to your gifted shoes, sitting by the door next to his boots. a small blush dusts your cheeks. “it’s just a fluke… i was rushing this morning and they were the first pair i saw,” your excuse was perpetually lame. 

he nods slowly, amused. “…right, of course.” he lays sarcastically. 

you were about to say something else awkward when the door slid open, bringing the first course along with a round of sake. you both say your respects to the food before digging in politely. the food definitely tasted as expensive as it looked. 

you realize you’ve actually never had a meal with sukuna before. you take note of how proper he eats, which was kind of a surprise for you (again). you guess you could believe him now when he said yuu was worse off than him— that boy definitely ate like a man starved. 

when you finish your last piece, you take a sip of the sake the server had poured out for you. it was much smoother and sweeter than the ones you’ve had. honestly, a little worrying considering how much of a lightweight you were. you decide that’s a dangerous game and settle with nursing the small glass you had. 

“how’s college been, then?” this fucking… you didn’t expect sukuna to do small talk, but here you were. “um, it’s good. a little tedious lately, but i guess i can’t complain,” you chuckle softly. “that kid kento’s in your internship, yeah?” the way he just knew random things adjacent to you was a little scary. “yeah, how do you know that?” “he’s a family friend.” thank god. you were beginning to think sukuna had a private investigator on you or something. “o-oh, how interesting. so you’ve known him for a while?” “his father has been partners with my grandpa since we were young, so yeah.” you simply nod in acknowledgment, unsure of how to continue. this was awkward territory to speak so casually and non-hostile with the man before you.  

“you look like you’re being tortured to speak to me right now.”

you snap to sit more straight and less avoidant, feeling embarrassed he clocked your temperament. “sorry, i’ve not exactly had any real conversations with you,” he looks unphased. “you’re too busy trying to fight me for that.” you give him a frown. “well you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself, asshole.” he simply chuckles and takes another sip of sake. he manages to look elegant despite the fact he’s dressed like a thug. “you’re easy to rile up, sweetheart.” 

you look at him incredulously. “you’ve got to be a sadist or something,” you exclaim with a small scoff. he hums. “not the word i’d use, but if it’s easier for you… sure, i’m a sadist for you.” “for me?” “i don’t mess with anyone else, if you’ve noticed.” you’re mildly confused, given that you know his track record, but you digress. you give him an unimpressed look. 

“…right.” 

he gives you a look back. “fuck you mean by that?” 

“oh c’mon, just because i met you recently doesn’t mean i didn’t know of you before that.” 

his weird look deepens. “oh? and what did you know of me, sweetheart?” he’s absolutely egging you on, but not in a way that’s teasing. he truly wants to understand what preconceived notions you have of him, almost like it was making him upset. 

“i mean… you’re a frat boy, sukuna. you get girls. you party. that earns a reputation, at minimum.” 

he looked a little hurt by your words, but he doesn’t let it stay long enough for you to notice. “tell me this, sweetheart. are you an introvert that only studies all day?” you stiffen. “…no, i’m not an introvert. and i like doing other things too,” “you liked it when i passed judgment on you being nothing but a booksmart nerd the first day i met you?” you shake your head slowly. “then you’re beating your fuckin’ stereotype. just like how i’m not the fuckin’ stereotype others say about me. understood?” 

you start to feel bad that you threw the same callous mindset he’s probably faced before, which was super out of character for you. you were an open minded and intuitive person. “i’m sorry, sukuna. i guess i’m just… having trouble understanding some things.” 

he raises an eyebrow. “like what?” 

“…well,” you take a sip of your sake to give yourself time to recollect. “i guess i want to know why you’ve been gifting me so much these last few weeks.” 

he visibly lightens up, slipping back into his playful demeanor. he purposefully takes a comically long sip of sake, causing you to laugh and smack him across the table, chiding him. “oh my god, stop! you suck, really,” 

he glances at you from the side of his eyes. “i just wanted to.” 

you look into his eyes, searching his gaze. a small smirk plays on your lips. a jolt of confidence hits you as you lean over the table on your elbows. “you got a crush on me, itadori?” 

he matches your energy tenfold, leaning towards you in tandem. you’re almost nose to nose. “inconclusive, sweetheart.”  

you sit back down with a small blush. “you’re not getting compensated for them, by the way.” 

he snorts, a deep chuckle following. “i never expected you to. they’re gifts, sweetheart. and i sure as hell know that little internship of yours pays in pennies.” 

you give him a withering look of irritation. “i get paid in experience, sukuna.” “that’s straight bullshit they tell you, you know that? you realize i graduate this year? already seen the way internships pan out,” true. “potayto potahto, dude.” 

his brows upturn out of amusement. you opt to change the subject from you. 

“you’re a mechanical engineering major, right?” you ask, tilting your head curiously. he just nods, his face giving nothing away. “how’s that, then? fun?”

he fixes you with a dry, almost exasperated stare. his eyes narrow slightly, eyebrows upturned just enough to convey that he’s calling your bluff. “is that a real question,” he drawls, “or are you seriously asking me about my major?”

you clench your jaw, resisting the urge to sock him in the shoulder. instead, you force yourself to keep smiling. “you nearly made me want to explode with your small talk, so just answer the damn question.”

a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he snorts. “if i told you i find this fun, there’s probably somethin’ wrong with me.”

you roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “there’s definitely a lot wrong with you, but whatever.”

he raises a brow, leaning in just a bit too close for comfort. “hm? say that louder for me, sweetheart?”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks as your lips slip into an involuntary pout. you hate how you can’t control your expressions around him—it’s like your face has a mind of its own. you avert your gaze and take a long sip of your drink, feigning nonchalance. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, the sake warming you from the inside out as you mimicked his usual unbothered attitude.

without warning, he stretches out his hand and flicks you on the forehead, a light but annoyingly precise tap. “idiot.” he mutters, sounding amused.

you groan, rubbing the spot where he flicked you. “when will you stop calling me that?” you whine, exasperated.

his laugh is low and unapologetic and his eyes twinkling with something irritatingly fond. “when you stop doin’ stupid shit. cute, stupid shit.”

somehow that pulls a genuine laugh out of you. you catch yourself mid-giggle, feeling suddenly self-conscious as sukuna’s gaze softens, just barely, his lips twitching into a smile. he’s watching you with this odd.. elated expression, like he’s seeing something new in you. you quickly clear your throat and try to regain composure, but the grin on your face lingers.

“what?” you ask, embarrassed, still smiling despite yourself.

he shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, but the faint trace of a smile remains. “nothing. just didn’t think i’d ever hear you laugh like that.”

a warm blush creeps up your neck, and you look down, fidgeting with the chopsticks. “i do laugh, you know,” you murmur, trying to act casual.

for a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze unguarded in a way that makes your heart skip. the silence stretches between you, not tense but charged, like something’s shifting that neither of you can quite name. he tilts his head slightly, studying your face as though he’s trying to memorize every detail. 

the rest of your meal with him was filled with this unspoken, almost serene connection that neither of you quite acknowledged, but both felt. the conversation felt more natural and genuine, you couldn’t stop talking it seemed. you found yourself stealing glances at him more often than you meant to, feeling a strange warmth in your chest each time your eyes met. there was an ease to the way you sat together, as if the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of you in this strange little bubble.

not before long, you both had finished your food with much satisfaction. This is definitely one of the best meals you’ve ever had. when the bill comes, you half expect sukuna to pull out a credit card but instead, he glances at the check just a moment before he pays with a bundle of crisp bills from his wallet. god, that was unnecessarily hot.

"let’s go," he says, standing up. he waits for you to put on your shoes before offering his hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you take it, the touch warm and solid. he’s particular about the way he holds your hand– not too tight, not too soft. that makes your heart skip a beat. not to mention your hand is small in comparison to his, but a weirdly perfect match. like a peg sliding into a notch. 

as you walk out of the restaurant, you feel the cool night air hit you, a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside. sukuna’s hand still holds yours, his thumb lightly grazing your knuckles as you both make your way to the street.

that’s when you spot it—an unassuming little ice cream stand on the corner, the twinkling of the fairy lights on its canopy making you grin up at him.

you tug on his hand, pulling him toward the stand before he can even say anything. "ice cream." you say with a mischievous smile, not even giving him a chance to protest. "you are legally not allowed to say no."

sukuna gives you a feigned look of annoyance at you but doesn’t pull away. “you’re insatiable,” he tells you, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—just the faintest hint of beguilement. you don’t miss the way his grip on your hand tightens, just a little, when you pull him toward the stand.

the vendor behind the counter greets you both with a toothy smile, and you instantly scan the flavors, your eyes lighting up as you point to one that catches your attention. "i’ll have the matcha," you say, already thinking about how good it’s going to taste.

sukuna gives you a side glance before ordering the most basic thing he could’ve chosen—vanilla. you can’t help but notice the contrast between his choice and yours, and it makes you giggle.

“you and giggling today, i swear,” he teases. you take the cone from the vendor’s hand with a small thank-you, sticking your tongue out at sukuna before giving your cone a lick. sukuna takes his cone shortly after, paying the man. 

walking together, hand in hand, the quiet sounds of the city hum around you. it’s almost too perfect, the way he towers beside you, both of you savoring your cones. despite the fall night being cool, soon your ice cream starts to drip and melt faster than you can eat it. you try to keep up but it’s a losing battle as your hands get sticky and little droplets threaten to trail down your fingers.

out of the corner of your eye, you catch sukuna stifling a snort, his shoulders shaking slightly as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a crumpled handful of napkins. he must have grabbed them at the stand, almost as if he anticipated this exact moment.

“somehow i knew you’d end up eating like a messy kid,” he teases, his voice tinged more tender than you’re used to. before you can reply, he steps closer, raising the napkin to your face with a gentle hand, his fingers brushing your cheek as he dabs at the melting ice cream on your lips and chin. his touch is careful and surprisingly soft, as if he’s handling something delicate.

“thank you,” you murmur, the words almost a whisper as you meet his eyes. they’re closer than you expected, and you catch your breath as he holds your gaze, just a fraction too long. you look away, the heat of his hand lingering on your cheek, and take another bite of your cone, trying to steady the flutter in your chest.

when you finish, you make your way back toward his motorcycle parked beneath a flickering streetlight. its chrome metal was gleaming in the muted glow. you lean against the seat as he stands in front of you, hand on the seat space beside where you were situated. this definitely feels like a date now, you thought. 

his presence was grounding you in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling. he eats the last bite of his cone before wiping his own hands clean, then tossing the dirty napkins in the bin behind him. “can i ask one more question?” you look at him with a small smile. “sure, sukuna.” 

his hand that was now free of the ice cream cone instinctively goes to your other hip, not out of flirtation, but simply closer proximity. you were in the space between his legs, but it wasn’t awkward. it was just intimate.

“why’d your dad ask you to come home?” you let out a small sigh, brushing your hair out of your face to no avail as the wind pushes in your face again. you look a little solemn as you speak. “he wants me to help my brother with entrance exams for secondary school. i’m really just doing the work of a tutor, which i can’t imagine my father couldn’t afford, especially in terms of my brother.. but, i have duties that are unspoken, i guess. that i’m just expected to follow through. my tuition for university is paid by him, so i can’t exactly ghost my family. and my mom is still great with me, so.. i don’t want to lose her too,” you admit. 

when you finish you realize sukuna’s been rubbing circles on your side, deep in listening to you. “i know family’s tough,” he replies. “but you need to realize when it’s starting to screw you up. i’m sure if i didn’t come to your place, you’d still be burying yourself under all that fuckin’ expectation and you’d be burnt out by the morning.” you nod, the weight of his words settling in, and for a moment, you’re grateful for the honesty he’s bringing out of you. it’s strange, this feeling of openness with him, like he’s peeling back the layers you keep hidden from most people.

“maybe,” you mutter, looking down at your hands, which are still a bit sticky from the ice cream. “but it’s hard, you know? i feel guilty when i consider putting myself first, like it’s selfish or something.”

you hear sukuna inhale deeply, still focused on you. “selfish? putting yourself first is sometimes the best damn thing you can do. you’ve got one life, sweetheart.” he pauses, the weight of his gaze meeting yours. “if you don’t set those boundaries, no fucker’s gonna do it for you.”

his hand brushes a stray hair off your cheek that had been in your face for a while now, and your heart skips as his thumb lingers there. he leans in just a little, enough that his face is close, his gaze holding yours in a way that makes the rest of the world blur.

you swallow, feeling a warmth rising in your chest, a feeling that’s unfamiliar to you. “thanks. i guess i needed to hear that,” you whisper, genuinely touched.

he tilts his head slightly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, though there’s something softer behind his eyes. “anytime, sweetheart.” 

without thinking, you shift your hand up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

he raises a brow, an amused but warm expression lighting up his face. “tryin’ to feel me up now?” he chuckles, but his voice is softer than usual.

you laugh, rolling your eyes, but you don’t move your hand. “shut up,” you murmur, your fingers tracing idle circles on his shirt as you both stay there, close and comfortably silent. the connection between you was enough. sukuna’s hand shifts to gently cup the side of your face, tilting you to see him. you really see him. his thumb grazing your cheek, his gaze flickering to your lips and then back to your eyes. you feel like the world has stopped around you two. you feel the subtle pull of his fingers on your skin. your heart beat is pounding out of your chest, and you feel his racing through his jacket too. in that instant, everything feels inevitable.

the harsh honk of a car horn cuts through the air, dragging you out of the moment with a jolt. you blink as the abrupt return to reality makes your breath catch in your throat. you pull away instinctively, breaking the bubble you were in. the realization of what was about to happen makes you nervous and almost scared. suddenly, you felt suffocated again. you shift, fumbling your fingers with your head down. 

sukuna stands still, silent. his hand that was almost ready to pull you in rested at his side now. his expression was rather blank, but different about the way he’s watching you. it’s quieter, more reserved, like he's waiting for you to say something—anything—to bridge the gap that’s formed between you. his jaw tightens slightly, just a hint of frustration, but he says nothing. he doesn’t rush to fill the silence. his silence is weighty, deliberate, and you feel the intensity of it even more because of it.

you glance at him quickly, and for a split second, you wonder what’s going through his mind. he doesn’t look at you with expectation but with that unreadable intensity that seems to pierce straight through you. you swallow, breaking the silence first. “sorry,” you manage, the words coming out squeakier than you intended, the awkwardness making you want to jump off a bridge. god, strike me down now or so help me.

“don’t apologize,” he rasps, his voice low, rougher than before. it’s not a demand, more like a quiet statement of fact. “you didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

his words hang in the air, steady and unyielding. it’s not comforting in the traditional sense, but it’s there—uncompromising, like he’s just being real with you. there’s no pushing or attempting to rush things. he’s waiting for you to say what you need to say, or to fall silent again. like whatever you do, he’s not going anywhere.

you instead opt to pivot like you usually do, and turn to get on the bike. you check your phone and give a fake little chuckle. “it’s getting so late, wow! we should head out. yeah?” sukuna realized you were definitely feeling weird about the moment you just had, so he wasn’t going to make it ruin the night you both had enjoyed so far. he only nods. “lemme take you to your place.” 

the ride was weirdly quiet, even though you never spoke on the bike anyways. it was too loud over the roar of vehicles on the road. when sukuna turns into your street, you feel a wave of nervous energy pulse through you again. 

the bike slows as he pulls up to the curb in front of your building, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. sukuna parks, but doesn’t make a move to dismount right away. he keeps his hands on the handles, his body still. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to move first. 

you shift off the motorcycle and walk to his side. you don’t give yourself the chance to second-guess it. sukuna looks like he’s about to say something when you press a soft kiss to his cheek, fleeting and sudden, just enough to catch him off guard. for the first time ever, you saw sukuna blush. before he can say anything, you step back already turning on your heel to run briskly towards the entrance of your building, heart hammering against your ribs.

“goodnight!” you call over your shoulder, your voice filled with the adrenaline rush you were feeling. you don’t wait for him to respond as you push open the door and slip inside quickly. the cool air of the building is a sharp contrast to the warmth that still lingers on your lips. You press your fingers on your lips, feeling your heartbeat even in your fingertips. you seriously don’t know what you were thinking… tonight’s feelings are swirling around you as you make your way up the stairs to your apartment.

sukuna was sitting for five minutes on his bike in front of your apartment, brain flatlining. he was going to kiss you. he was so close to your lips. he thought that chance encounter was the most he was going to get tonight when you decided to do that and have the gall to run away. 

he didn’t wash his face that night.

a figure with shoddy blonde hair puts out his cigarette stub on the wall, exhaling the last drag he had. the rooftop was empty, save for his friend. mahito sucks his teeth and throws the bottle of beer he was drinking on the ground, the shatter echoing in the dark night. 

“fuck, man! what are we going to do about that motherfucker?” he seethes, face red from his drunken rage. 

naoya chuckles at his lack of control. he didn’t seem as pissed about the whole ordeal, especially not as much as mahito. the fraternity wasn’t everything to him. and he knew good things come to those who are patient. 

“don’t think about him. we need to focus on the bitch that curved you,” naoya tells him coolly. 

mahito nods slowly, raring up with hype. “yeah… yeah! that ugly whore that got me jumped!” naoya just stares out at the buildings below, unbothered. 

“she’ll pay, mahito. just wait.”

sooooo :) how was it guys :) as always i live and breathe for comments (and all reactions hehe) so please don't hesitate <3 i try my best to reply to everyone in a timely manner, but please have mercy on me if i don't </3 love you all!

peace luv bathtub!

taglist! @kawliflo @deepcloudspyhairdo @aldebrana @marie-is-in-the-dark @emoedgylord @gojoscumslut

comment to be added to the taglist! will be capped at a certain point! much love <3

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[sickgraymeat]

Maybe if I just keep going I’ll become a vampire

[youngpettyqueen]

I know the decision to have Julian's parents have him augmented was made on the fly but imo its pretty obvious from early on that Julian has Family Issues because he avoids talking about his family like the plague and I think they should've incorporated this into the Julian and Sisko dynamic right from early on because I think it would've made for some really compelling stories and moments and could've set up a REALLY interesting Julian and Jake dynamic which they kinda started to do but never fully went for

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[lynxalon]

have to rehome the cats :(

[wewontbesleeping]

$630 on vet bills this time <3

[lostfracturess]

remedies and reasons | ch. 03

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

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

word count — 11.8 k

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

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

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

(note: r&r reader)

What a strange fucking day.

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

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

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

What the hell had gotten into me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need a cigarette.

No, I need several cigarettes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"These need both our signatures?" I asked.

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

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

"Long night?" I asked.

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

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

"Our coffee is not that bad actually—"

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

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

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

"Not more than usual, I guess."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is it working?"

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

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

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

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

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

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

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

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

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

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

"Just trust me."

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

"Satoru's work, I assume?"

"Maybe."

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

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

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

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

"Better than the law firm sludge?"

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

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

"Care to share?"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality."

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

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

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

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

Her eyes snapped back to mine. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No? Must have been another patient then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That bad, huh?"

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

"Chad?" I raised an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell am I doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Saturday at 6?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

The lecture went fine. It always did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Stop that train of thought right there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.

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

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

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

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

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

No. Not about her at all.

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

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

The lab was quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Suguru?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything for you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You really think so?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

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

I hadn't slept. How could I?

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

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

Damn it.

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

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

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

Stop it. Stop thinking about her like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't know anything about us."

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

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

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

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

"What happened to you?" I asked quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We were brothers in everything but blood.

But now—

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

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

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

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

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

His hand stilled on the board.

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

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

"What happened to us, Satoru?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

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

Days blurred together in a haze of surgeries and lectures. 

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

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

"Dr. Geto, about my thesis proposal—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her response came quickly.

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

[6:47 PM] Me: Sounds good.

I hesitated, then added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: r&r reader)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you save them?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I really am—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe a little."

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

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

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

"Force of habit."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why law?"

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

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

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

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

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

"It could be."

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

"That's different—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"They sound like good parents."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that such a bad thing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I didn't need to ask who she meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next time, she'd said. 

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

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

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

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

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

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

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

[transmascsub]

i want to have a 'friend', my roommate, convince me to get top surgery which keeps all my nipple sensitivity and bottom surgery that keeps my cock all small and sensitive and keeps my hole to 'avoid complications in surgery'. i'm so breedable right now that i have to be on oestrogen blockers and i want her to tell me to switch to the pill so i get all nice and round and plump.

then i want her to convince me that if i have a pussy still, and i can't get pregnant from it, it should be fine for her to use it? after all she's done for me. it's such a small thing, letting her use my pussy if i'm not even using it myself, and we're just friends, it's not weird. she does all the washing up so it's fair.

so she starts fucking me with her huge cock and it's so much and i'm so sensitive and i don't want to like it but all the hormones make my brain all swimmy and my cock all twitchy and i cum on her girlcock every time and hope she doesn't notice. i get all whimpery and whiny when she stuffs me and i just say it's because i'm uncomfortable but it's because it's so so good and i hate it so much.

she starts fucking me all day and night. if i'm doing work on my laptop she'll just pick me up and sit me back down on her cock and tell me to keep going. if i'm in the kitchen to make breakfast she'll ask if i don't mind awfully if she could get some help with her morning wood and she'll gently but firmly press me over the counter and stuff me so so full.

her friends come over and she casually brings up that i still have a pussy and they all ask for a go, and when i'm uncertain, they say that it's not fair that i get a pussy when they don't (they're all women) and the least i could do is let them fuck me and they're so firm and they push so hard that i just let them to avoid conflict. then they just keep casually talking to each other about nothing in particular like magic the gathering whilst wrecking me with their girlcocks. at one point one of them points out one of their cocks is making my tummy bulge each thrust and they record it and show the girl thrusting into me and they laugh or call it cute and i turn pink with embarrassment. of course i'm left with cum leaking out of me.

eventually she doesn't stop there. she knows i'm a breeding boy, and she's made me into a breeding cockslut. she swaps my birth control for a fertility med with aphrodisiac side effects and of course doesn't tell me. she leaves me to stir for a few days, getting plumper and more sensitive. my nipples feel teased by any clothes i wear. my cock is hard all of the time. she packs my schedule which exhausts me so i never have a second to touch myself.

after four days of being constantly teased and tortured, i break. all my objections are overcome by need and she's already fucking me anyway so what's the harm in asking if she'd like to do it now? and so i ask her if maybe she could fuck me. she probes me with questions and she makes me tell her that i enjoy it, that i cum on her cock every time, that i'm constantly moaning in pleasure when she's inside me. she makes me agree that i feel empty without it, that i'm desperate to please her and be stuffed with cum.

she makes me prove how much i love her cock, and i'm just so needy and desperate that i'd do anything. she makes me suck her off, and it's so so humiliating. she makes me watch her as i bounce my mouth on her cock. it's so thick and just a fraction of it fills my mouth all the way up and tears start spilling from my eyes. she calls me pathetic, that i'm so desperate for cock that i'd suck off my best friend, and that i must just be a total cockslut. she says i can't think of anything other than cock and being stuffed. she gets bored with my weak attempts and starts fucking my throat. she says that pleasing women is what i'm for, and that it's just uncomfortable because i'm not used to it, and once i understand my true purpose it'll get easier.

she doesn't cum in my throat. she forces it out, dripping with my saliva and her precum, and makes me beg her to breed me. i didn't think that she was being serious - i haven't been fertile in years - so i comply and plead with my fogged-up mind for her to cum inside of me and that i'll be good for her and that she can use me whenever she likes and i don't mind. i don't know or care about what i'm saying, i'm just saying anything to have her inside me. i'm too swimmy to think about anything but her cock.

she pulls out her phone and tells me to look up to the camera and say that i need her to breed me full. and i do, just not having enough brain to think about how foolish i was being. and she says i'll take you at your word, and finally, finally, she bends me over. she leaves her phone recording us but i don't notice. she rubs the tip of her cock against my opening and tells me how wet i am for her and how much of a pathetic slut i am. how she bets i can't think of anything other than cock. how she thinks that it's probably all i'm good for. it's torturous, her tip just so so close to what i need, and she just keeps teasing me. i just… adjust my angle, to make penetration easier for her, and she laughs at me for presenting myself, and how i'm just a dumb cockslut, and how she doesn't think there's much brain in there anymore. that i'm basically just a toy for her and her friends to pass around each other, and that i wouldn't mind. she says that they're going to fill me up with cum soooo nicely. that they'll take care of me so well. that my womb will be bulging with cum. that it's what my slutty body was made for: being bred over and over.

i'm squirming on her cock, desperate for her, but she's pinning my hips firmly to the bed and i just can't get it in me and i need it so much and i'm crying a little and i just start moaning please over and over. and she just looks at me and smiles and pets my hair and says, alright boytoy, and she pushes all the way inside me at once and i just. break. and then she starts thrusting and oh my god nothing has ever ever felt this good and she knows it and she asks me doesn't this feel nice and that this is what it could be like every day and i could just be a toy for women to use as they like. she tells me that i'm made for being bred. she grabs my thighs and my ass and tells me how they're all plump and lush and that's the way of nature telling everyone that i'm breedable and she's touching me all over and telling me how sensitive i am and how i wouldn't be so sensitive if i wasn't made to be touched like this. and i'm moaning so much that she can just assume that i agree with every word she says. and i can't think but i know it feels so good and that i need it so so so much and everything she says can be true as long as she never stops ever because nothing else will ever compare.

but i'm wrong. she tells me to beg her for her cum. i let out a string of pleases and moans and she gives me a spank and says properly. and i try so hard to concentrate and say that it'll feel really nice and i want it so much and she's right about everything and that i need it and i'm built for it and please please please. she makes me call her mistress, and i'm so deep in that i don't think about the fact that she's my best friend and we've been friends for years and i'm going to swap all of that to be her cockdrunk toy. and i just say please, mistress, please give me your cum, i need it, i need you, please, i'm so so desperate for it, i can't, i can't do anything but think about it, i'll do anything just please please please come inside of me.

this seems to, just about, satisfy her. she calls me her pathetic cuntboy, and that she'll fix me the cuntboy i was always meant to be. and she starts touching my cocklet and my nipples and i'm so so so close and she's going so fast and i can't and my whole body is overcome with pleasure. my cock is all pink and twitching and leaking and her fingers are magical. and then, pistoning in and out of me, she cums all the way inside me, filling me up, and it's the greatest moment of my life so far and it's so much and it's everything. and i cum but i don't even really notice.

she gives me a kiss on the forehead and tells me that i've done so so well for her, and that i'm going to make such a good toy and be so useful for the community. little do i know that she's planning to use me as an incubator for lesbian couples struggling with fertility so after a month of being fertilised she plans to take out the embryo from me and breed me again. i'm just a breeding machine to her. and she owns me, and that much i already know.

[foodtruckery]

(Abo anon again) (if I'm getting annoying just lmk I'll stop lmfao) I know weve established ford is an obsessed little maniac over stanley but I'm curious what about STAN? Is he fantasizing about his brother in the same way ford was? WAS he thinking about ford when he first presented and hating himself for it? While ford is in the basement fantasizing about dominating stan, stan is upstairs doing the same thing. Wondering how ford would react if his omega brother put him in his place?

Or is this something thats never really crossed stans mind? Is stan just so desperate for his brothers affection and attention after all these years that yknow what? If THIS is how ford needs to love him hell go with it. Stans morals are skewed to all hell and living through an apocalypse, getting your mind wiped kind of puts things like "incest is morally bad" on the backburner. sure he can fuck ford sometimes it really doesnt matter to him how he shows his love

I don't even know what I'm saying anymore I'm just rambling at this point lmfao

you're not annoying at all, anon, i love these!! but yes yes i am following your vision. i was born to understand you. it was killing me that i had to be productive yesterday and didn't have time to sit down with this! that's probably why i, yet again, got WELL AWAY FROM MYSELF and have put a cut below to save your dashboards. as a warning, this is longer than the ford answer.

cause gosh it's SUCH a good question. i think stan has Complicated Feelings about all of it. and i also think that while ford tells himself he's separate from the secondary gender expectations and bullshit, stan is the one who actually IS. or he's at least a lot more self aware of it all. ford packed up all his internalizations and took them into the multiverse and never really had to address any of it whereas stan has run the gamut on primary AND secondary identities and has a much better grasp on and them and himself in the grand scheme of things (no pun intended) because of it.

i think when stan finally presented, that was the first time his more-than-brotherly-love feelings for ford were put front and center in his head. like it may have been something he was vaguely aware of, but he'd never given it much attention (becaue if you ignore it it'll go away right?). but then going into heat for the first time??

yeah, by then he and ford are pretty newly separated from each other, and a lot of the hurt is still really fresh, BUT. ford is also one of the only alphas stan has ANY positive associations with at this point in his life, putting their last interactions aside. and he definitely tells himself that's the only reason why he spends most of his heat thinking about him. that's biology right?? going into heat and obsessing over alpha dick or whatever.

but then, for better or worse, stan doesn't really have a lot of time to dwell on all that anyway. cause he definitely spent at least some time on his own as a beta first, started getting a rough idea of what it meant, how to make it work, what was dangerous. but after presenting??? turns out there's a pretty noticeable difference between making due as a homeless beta teenager vs a homeless omega teenager that starts making itself known REAL FAST.

so stan has to figure some shit out, fast, and daydreaming about any coulda woulda shouldas -- if he'd presented earlier, or hadn't fucked up so bad, or had been given a real shot at defending himself? well that kinda shit just hurts more than it helps, so he doesn't think about it and instead focuses on taking care of himself. cause nobody else is gonna do it, and he learns the hard way not to trust anyone who claims they will.

in the ensuing years, while stan is shilling snakeoil products and jumping state lines, most of that is still from conning folks. but he definitely skipped town more than once for being caught out as an omega when he runs into trouble getting a hold of the right meds. and sure, he has good reason to do it after the shit he's dealt with and done, the threat that comes with being a vulnerable person already and adding that degree of additional vulnerability on top of it.

but i do also like to think that at least once, the omega thing drives him out of town for a different reason. like maybe reconnecting with carla mccorkle or meeting and starting something that might actually be nice with jimmy snakes. point is, stan does find a little bit of honest to god comfort with another person who isn't paying him to there or threatening to break his kneecaps. and he definitely never considers the words "settling down" but he maybe isn't planning how he's gonna get outta dodge yet, so that's something, right?

but then he either lapses in his meds or they get found, and sure, maybe there's a fight that follows or something that leads to him leaving. but i think it's more likely that stan doesn't stick around to face the music at all. he finds out that they found out, and they're either gonna kick him out or they're gonna start expecting shit from him, right? so he gets ahead of it and makes himself scarce. it's a lot easier to disappoint people at this point than to keep letting himself be disappointed.

he probably does a decent job of holding on to that mentality for a long time, too. especially after settling into gravity falls and getting enough stability in his life that even when there are mishaps, he's really fucking good at managing them. bad reaction to a batch of suppressants and kicked into an unexpected heat? he can shut down the shack for a few days and play sick -- something mundane but contagious to his employees and something fantastical to drive sales to the schmucks paying his bills for when he gets back. and if the idea of closing up shop completely raises too many eyebrows? he can claim he's going out of town for a few days and just lock himself up in the industrial basement nobody knows about and ride things out.

(he only lets that happen once. cause it turns out that being out of your skull on fuck-me hormones in the room where you last saw, fought, and banished your brother into a sci-fi monstrosity does some really weird shit to the who and what you're fantasizing about. also, getting slick all over the fucking journal you need to get said brother back runs too close of a risk to ruining the thing in the worst way possible, so never again.)

and it's so damn easy to play the part of alpha that nobody thinks twice to question him anyway. yeah, the town knows he's a fraud in a lot of ways, but that's part of the whole mr. mystery thing. and let's be honest, his shack is one of the only things that actually drums up tourism in the area, and those tourists have to eat somewhere, have to sleep somewhere. so okay, stan pines is a fraud, but he's kinda gravity fall's fraud, an important part of their weird little economic ecosystem. so all that loud, cocksure, 'i will steal this right in front of you and come back tomorrow like i didn't,' attitude -- that has alpha written all over it to the townspeople anyway.

course, then ford does get back - he brings ford back - and stan gets to be reminded all over again about the whole 'people will disappoint you' thing. but i think he's pushed so much of that childhood fantasy and heat in the basement fantasy nonesense down and has gone so long without actually giving a shit about having to "prove" the alpha role, that he probably isn't thinking about any of it the same way ford is. i imagine that despite the way he acts, stan is actually pretty careful about who he fucks since taking over ford's identity, just in case. the less opportunity he has to slip up or get found out, the better after all. so while ford is hate fucking his fist, stan is trying to figure out how easily he can move and maintain his connections and trying not to spiral over any of that.

after everything is over, stan probably does consider keeping up appearances. but the logistics of it are too damn complicated, and at the end of the day, who gives a shit now? he's not living out of his car, trying to make himself as unappealing of a future victim as possible anymore. he isn't impersonating a known alpha and making sure no prejudiced hack thinks to look twice at the "successful small business owner" thing anymore. hell! he doubts he can even go into heat at this age anymore, so other than a little scent change, the only real difference is that he won't have to worry about juggling and sourcing the meds anymore.

yeah, he should probably have said something to ford about it, but it wasn't supposed to be a big deal. it was supposed to be something ford brings up after all the meds have cycled out of his system and all his clothes have been through enough washes to stop masking what's different. just a casual hey, stan smells different maybe, what's that all about? and oh yeah, i wasn't actually an alpha, how funny is that? end of story.

the going into heat thing was not supposed to happen. and it hasn't happened for so long that he doesn't even realize it is happening until it's way too late to do anything about it. at this point, stan isn't even entirely sure how long it's been since he actually fucked anybody, and almost never while in heat. so it's...a lot, to say the least.

not just the being bombarded with omega bullshit after suppressing it so hard for so long, either. that in and of itself is overwhelming. like, jesus, had it always been this fucking wet? and holy moses, has ford always smelled like that? and oh right the deeply suppressed ford thing.

they definitely don't have time to talk any of this out before it happens. but it's supposed to go by faster with a partner, right? they're trapped on a tiny boat in the middle of the ocean - stan really can't afford to be out of commission that long. and ford at least doesn't seem like he'd rather take his chances finding shore with a lifesaver when stan points all of this out. it's probably the dimension hopping shit, right? maybe having to fuck your twin brother through a biological meltdown isn't all that big of a deal to him compared to whatever else he's seen. it also means that stan doesn't have to actually bring up any of that shit he's refused to admit thinking thinking about on the rare occassions he has been dragged down into a heat.

basically a win-win!

but yeah, he's definitely going to avoid the hell out of ford as best he can on said tiny ass boat after this. also refuse to talk about it, because fuck no, there's nothing tjo talk about. they just need to make port sooner than later so he can get his hands on suppressants again and they can pretend this never happened at all.

[smallswingshoes]

What is the one thing about your job that you wish people understood that they generally don't seem to?

Probably that we aren't trying to hold your meds hostage from you, the patient. As techs, it would genuinely be easiest for us if we could just... get you the meds.

A strange number of people, if something isn't covered or in stock or is too soon, will act like I'm intentionally trying to screw them over and I have no idea where this comes from. If nothing else, my job would be easier if I could just give everyone every single med.

And also maybe that prescription insurance isn't the same as medical insurance and it can be stupid-complicated, especially Medicare. God I fucking hate Medicare; the amount of unnecessary hoops they make patients jump thru is unreal and a lot of it is outside our control.

Another good one to know is that we don't have any special way to get ahold of your doctor faster than you do. Actually, as the patient, you're more able to get ahold of them than we usually are. With insurance, we do often talk to a different dept, actually, so sometimes we can help with that. (Altho insurance phone calls suck cuz they take too long.)

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 4)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt. Setting: Highway outside of Atlanta. 

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, degrading behavior, season 2 Daryl, smut, oral (m receiving)(kind of) weird. Just weirdo perv (out of desperation) Daryl. 

Word Count: 3200

A/N; Daryl’s POV 😩🤷‍♀️ 17+ mdni

masterlist

Been keepin’ Merle’s stuff pretty well hidden. Guess I should probably just get rid of it, right? But I can’t. S’not mine to get rid of. So I just hide it. Separate bag from the rest of his meds, all the way at the bottom of a backpack, stuffed under the seat of my truck. 

Beatle says she’s been sober off spazz shit for three years. Pretty sure three years ago s’when I met her though, so I’unno how she figures that. 

But now we’re ditchin’ the truck and I gotta find a way to carry it without Beatle finding it. Don’t even have time to be upset about my truck. Had it for at least the last ten years. Loved this thing like it was the only thing I had. Basically was for a while. 

Takin’ Merles bike. It’s got some dumbass Nazi shit on it, but ‘m not complainin’. That shit don’t matter anymore. Neither does bein’ upset over a truck that’s not gonna do me any good without gas. 

Pack myself two bags. One goes with Beatle in Dale’s RV, the other is the pack I’d had stuffed under the seat. Spazz gets hidden underneath a few shirts, smokes, the couple sips left of girlwhiskey, and the rest of Merle’s scripts. Stuff I don’t trust Beatle with.  

I think she knows, too. She doesn’t say it but she gives me a look when I tell her ‘m holdin’ onto it. I offer her a whole cigarette. All for herself. And it shuts her up enough not to push it. 

Don’t know if I like when she’s happy or not. Kinda makes me feel sick so I try not to think about it. Dunno. Whatever. Don’t got time to think about that shit anyway. S’always somethin’. 

Don’t really even got the time to think about what a shit show the CDC was. Just gotta keep movin’. Guess the plan is Fort Bennet? Don’t know. Don’t care. ‘m just goin’. 

It’s nice to be back on a bike again. Can’t feel nothin’ but the vibrating underneath me and the air in my face. Can’t hear nothin’ but the engine. By myself. Like all this shit hasn’t happened…

No use in thinkin’ ‘bout it that way, though. Has happened. And I ain’t gonna be one of those sorry sacks that wants to pretend shit ain’t the way it is. That’s one thing I like Beatle for. She don’t pretend shits gonna go back. Don’t miss nothin’, ain’t lookin’ for no one. Far as I see it, she’s happy mostly. Guess it’s easy when someone’s takin’ care of everything for ya. Me. Giving her my smokes and buildin’ fires for my damn self, thinkin’ everything tha’s mine is hers. It ain’t. 

Other people makin’ plans. Other people findin’ shelter. Other peoples food. 

Too many people in this group ain’t pullin’ their own weight. It’s gonna catch up sooner or later. Beatle’s a weak player. Can’t decide if I should help her out or not. Can’t decide if I should protect her or not. Cuz she don’t want it, she don’t think she needs it. But she’s gonna need it. Sooner or later. 

Cuz I know I hate her and all that. Dumb fuckin’ bitch for sure. But after what happened at the CDC? Thought we were gonna die. Thought she was gonna die. Fuck. I’unno. Guess I felt somethin’. 

I’m in between knowin’ it and hatin’ it. It can be both right? Cuz it’s definitely both. One more thing I gotta care about. Real fuckin’ stupid. 

We’re only on the road a few hours before shit blows. Literally. Dales radiator. Good ‘n done. Then more bullshit happens but ain’t that the way shit is now?

A whole herd of ‘em come through and everyone’s fine. Andrea’s havin’ a panic attack ‘bout the geek that almost ate ‘er, Carol’s kid run off into the woods, and T-Dog’s all but bled out. But to me? Basically fine. No one’s dead or nothin’. 

Don’t know where Beatle was when the herd came. But she’s fine too, and any worryin’ I’d been doin was a waste of fuckin’ time. Not gonna waste any more of it bein’ mad I was worried in the first place. That I couldn’t think ‘bout anything else. Just images of her stupid happy face gettin’ ripped apart. Guess I care now. At least ‘bout her not bein’ dead. ‘Bout her bein’ here.

She’s standin’ outside the RV with me, sharing a cigarette cuz I don’t know how else to tell her I’m glad she’s alive. Can’t stop lookin’ at her. She’s either ignoring my staring or pretendin’ I ain’t doin’ it, and ‘m grateful. Don’t wanna talk ‘bout that shit. Just wanna look at her, and fix all those images in my head. Her face still happy and perfect and smilin’ at me like it wasn’t bein’ eaten by monsters a few minutes ago. 

I feel sick. Somethin’… different. 

“Can I just hug you, please?” She asks like she’s been waitin’ to say it. 

“Why?” I squint at her, dragging the smoke. Kinda want to - kinda mad she asked instead of just doin’ it, “Since when do you ask permi-“ I’m cut off by her body wrapped around mine. All four limbs holdin’ on like I’m keepin’ her anchored to the world. 

I hug her back, arms pulled tight around her. Why am I doing this? What the fuck is this? Goin’ fuckin’ soft for some dumb little girl. I can hear Merle laughin’ at me from inside my head, and I drop Beatle back down to the pavement. 

“I’m glad you’re alive.” She says, and I look down at her. Now she’s all covered in the gross shit I’m covered in. She doesn’t seem to care. Doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“Yeah?” I say at her, cuz I don’t know what else to say. Can’t tell her Im glad she’s alive. Can’t give her that. I hugged her back, that’s enough. She should know. 

She nods, smiling that stupid fuckin’ smile that I’m startin’ to like. ‘Fore her face starts wrinklin’ up somethin’ nasty. There it is. She looks at me, then down at herself. “What the fuck, Daryl?” 

Me?! “‘Pleeeease can I hug you, Daryl?’” I mock her. 

“I was worried!! And then you’re alive and okay and I  didn’t have time to look at you covered in guts and shit!” She squeals. I swear she knows it irritates me. I can see her goin’ to punch me in the arm so I let her, then pull her into another hug. 

Grabbin’ at her head to bring it close to my chest, covered in week old decaying monster meat, “C’mon, Beatle. Gimme a hug!” She’s tryin’ to fight it but ‘m stronger. 

She bends her knees and slips down and out of my arms. The blood on my hands making her too slippery to hold onto. She starts runnin’. I run after her til we get to the side of the road and she tries to hide underneath the trunk of a car crashed into the rail. 

Maybe this ain’t the time for fuckin’ around, but it don’t matter. Not when I finally got her cornered. The look of fear in her eyes does somethin’ to me. Not real fear.  Naw, cuz she’s smilin’. Cuz she’s laughin’. Just excited that we’re both still breathing. Still, smile on her face and laugh in her throat, she’s cowering beneath a cars trunk, beggin’ me to stop. The beggin’s doin’ somethin’ to me too. Fuck. 

I pick her up, slingin’ her over my shoulder, she yelps. Don’t she know how this shit works yet? “Fuckin’ quiet, Beatle. Dumb bitch.” I slap her ass once and she fuckin’ yelps again. “Wha’ did I just say?” And I slap her ass again. This time she’s quiet. 

Shit, that worked? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. My dicks hard. 

I’unno if it’s cuz I never carried a girl over my shoulder like this, cuz I spanked her couple times, or cuz she listened. My dick gets even harder and I realize it’s definitely fuckin’ all of it. But mostly that she listened when I told her what to do. Maybe I should tell her what to do more often. Fuck. ‘m not helpin’ myself, or my problem, at all. 

I dip my head down to smell the sick I’m covered in to make it go away. It works. Even with her ass next to my face. So close I could bite it. For fucks sake. I put her down but she doesn’t run away this time. We walk slowly back to the group. Not sayin’ nothin’. Me, cuz I’m trying to focus on the smell of rotten flesh and definitely not Beatle beggin’ me to stop. Definitely not about what her face looked like when she felt my hand on her ass.  

Wonder if she’s quiet cuz she’s thinkin’ about it too.

 Wondering what she’s thinkin’ about and tryin’ to will away a stiffy. Fuck this fuckin’ high school bullshit. Like she reads my mind, I feel her needy little fingers snake into my hand. For a second I think maybe I’m smokin’ a cigarette I don’t remember havin’ but ‘m not. She’s just tryin’ to hold my hand. 

At first it feels nice, and then I feel sick again. Too many questions unanswered. Too much shit that’s already happened. Can’t trust her. So I shake her hand off, “Stop.” 

“Fine. Fuck you.” She stomps away and back into the RV. I’unno what the fuck’s wrong with me that it makes me smile. Do I like when she’s happy? Shit, I dunno. If I did, wouldn’t I not like it when she’s upset? So why does her being mad at me do it for me too? 

✨🏹

Whatever. 

She comes with me to go look for Sophia. Andrea stood up like she was gonna come too, but once Beatle and I are standin’ next to the RV Andrea doesn’t follow us out.

 We don’t stray too far from the road. It’s dark, and mostly just came out here to help ease Carol’s mind. ‘m definitely goin’ soft. But I’unno. Hurts to watch people lose stuff. Their families. Hurts to watch people hurt. 

Gonna hurt Beatle in a fuckin’ second if she doesn’t shut the fuck up. We’re walkin’ through the woods. At night. She’s gotta know this shit by now. “Beatle, keep your fuckin’ voice down. Please.” Did I just say please? Fuck me. 

“Did you just say ‘please’?” Fuck. Me. 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t think I know how.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” She laughs, and it makes me smile. And that makes me feel sick to my stomach. Again. 

Her voice cuts through while I’m makin’ myself even sicker thinkin’ about it, “You wanna play another game?”

My eyebrows raise in her direction, “Yeah, that went real well for ya last time.” 

“Nevermind.” Her face falters and she crosses her arms across her chest. 

“What, you don’t wanna get half naked and cry again?” And for fuckin’ once I wish Beatle had somethin’ to say back. Some smartass shit that isn’t even funny but she definitely means it to be. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t say anything. She just lets my question hang in the fuckin’ air and suffocate me. Cuz now I’m thinkin’ about her half naked and crying and my fuckin dicks hard again. What is this shit? Rock hard cock every time I pick on her now? ‘m not gonna be able to do this. She’s gonna notice. Where the fuck is a guy supposed to jerk off and relieve some of this shit? 

On her fuckin’ face.

Shit.

She’s been quiet for too long and my brain won’t stop. It’s just getting worse. Images of her now, her face covered in my cum, her lips humming together making little bubbles with it, smiling. Shit. 

Beatle, say something. Anything.

“How big’s your dick?” Not. Fucking. That. 

She listens… right? She wants it, right? Why else would she ask that? Now, when it’s just the two of us out in the woods in the dark. She wants me to show her. 

So show her.

“Beatle.” My voice is low, barely there. Just a rasp of a word. 

She turns around, ready to explain herself before she even looks at me, “I-“ 

“C’mere.” If I don’t cut her off she’s gonna say she was just jokin’ but we both know she ain’t jokin’. She wants ta know. So she’s gonna know. 

Feel like I can see her blushin’ in the moonlight as she walks toward me, even though I can’t. Just know she is. Smile on her face like I ain’t about to wipe it off with my cock. Shit, hard as a fuckin’ rock right now. I rub my palm over the length of it, and I watch her eyes follow my arm down. Watch ‘em get bigger, wide and nervous, and it makes my dick twitch against my jeans. I pull out a smoke and light one, for a second I see a disappointment in her face, thinkin’ maybe I’d just called her over to share a smoke. Naw. “Down on your knees.” 

And Jesus Christ, does she kneel so fuckin’ fast. She stares straight ahead, and somethin’ comes over me. Can’t wait. Don’t want to. Don’t need to. Beatle does what I ask, at least when it comes to this. Like a good little slut would. That is what she’s good at, ain’t it? 

So maybe it’s a little fucked up that I grab her head and force her against the rough fabric of my jeans. Pushing my cock into her cheek as hard as I fuckin’ can. Holding her by the hair and rubbing her face on me. 

But this little bitch moans. At first I wasn’t sure, but she keeps fuckin’ moaning. She likes this. Somethin’ close to a laugh escapes my throat, past the cigarette between my lips. I take it with my fingers, letting one hand go from her head, the other hand pulls her back to look up at me. Her expression absolutely blown. She just looks at me for a second, before putting her face back on my cock on her own. It’s not the same amount of pressure but it still feels fuckin’ good. And somethin’ about her doin’ it on her own. Like she can’t fuckin’ help it. Like she needs it. 

She’s starts to lick at the fabric right where my head is and my dick spasms again at the sight of it. This time she can feel it underneath her mouth. She smiles up at me, smirkin’ down at her. Putting the cigarette in my mouth, I drag it, before bringing it down to her lips. A little reward for listening. 

She drags it once and I drop it on the ground. Beatle says “Thank you.” In the smallest voice I ever heard come out of her mouth. Fuck. I could fall in love with this Beatle. It’s just your dick talkin’ Dar, don’t get crazy. 

I grunt a laugh and start to unbuckle my belt. Unbutton my pants. Barely have my cock in my hand ‘fore her mouths around it. I pull her back by her hair, sharply. She winces in pain and reaches up to her head where I’m holdin’ on. Her eyes shoot up to look at me. 

God, fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have that image burned in my brain for the rest of my life. Her face, all discomfort and contempt because I won’t let her touch me. Like she’s fuckin’ dying for it. “Nah, keep your mouth shut Beatle. Gotta learn ta do what yer told.” 

She nods, and closes her lips. Looking from my eyes back down my body again. I lean back, takin’ myself in my hand and pressing my cock into her face. 

For a while I just rub myself all over, letting her feel the weight of it. Letting her know just how big it really fuckin’ is. Lifting it off her face and smackin’ her cheeks. Makin’ her flinch, her eyes squish closed but I press my hard cock against her eye and push up forcing her eyelid open. Fuck. I do the same thing with her lips. Smushing and rubbing the head of it into her lips to open them, I fuck against her mouth for a second. Beatles groaning and moaning but she doesn’t open her mouth. Somethin’ about it makes me need to cum. Now. No more fuckin’ around. “Open up.” 

She does. I spit into her open mouth, and she moans again, without swallowing it. Like a good slut. “Fuck, Beatle. Shit. Now stick your tongue out.” 

She does. I can see my spit falling off her tongue and I quickly catch it with my cock, before smearing as much of the slick spit from her mouth onto me. Taking myself from the base, holding hard to cut off the circulation. Always feels better when I do that. Rubbin her tongue with my cock til I can’t fuckin take it anymore. I’m about to fuckin’  cum. I pull away for only a second, my breathings all fucked and I can barely speak, “Close yer mouth.” She looks confused for a second but closes her mouth. Good. Was about to smack her. 

My left hand finds a place on the back of her head again, gripping into her hair to hold her in place. I push my hips forward and put the whole length across her face. My other hand pressing myself down into her from above her. And I fuck myself on her face. Grunting and sloppy and desperate to cum. Never done this before, shit, does anyone do this? But fuck, it’s so fuckin’ hot. Her lips and her cheeks and her eyelids and her nose all squished and being fuckin’ ruined by my cock. Shit.  Fuck. 

Right as I’m about to cum I put both hands around her head and hump her face like… I don’t even know. I feel fuckin’ insane, but she’s still moaning at the feeling of being used. Not even in a way that should be enjoyable to her. 

I don’t think I’ve ever cum that much in my whole fuckin’ life. Most of it ends up in Beatle’s hair, but there’s still a whole lot of it on her face. I mess with it for a second. Swirling my puffy post-nut dick in it before I get oversensitive. 

I put myself away, and sit down on the ground next to Beatle. Still in the exact same position. I let her kneel there, don’t tell her she can move or nothin’. Guess that’s why she doesn’t. Don’t think she can open her eyes either. S’funny. 

Relighting the short I’d dropped to the ground, I pull a bandana from my pocket. “Is it big, Beatle?” I ask her while I wipe only her mouth off, and put the cigarette between her lips. 

She sucks on the filter, and smiles. “Yep.”

Eventually I wipe off her eyes too. Can’t do anything about her hair though, so I promise to find her a hat from one of the cars on the walk back. 

And I don’t let myself think about what this might mean. Who cares? I don’t. Don’t think Beatle does neither. We’re just goin’. 

pt 5

A/N: Yeah okay,  I know. Daryl’s all back and forth. Does he not give a shit about Merle and Beatle? Does he know deep down they never did anything together? Or maybe he just wasn’t thinking about it at the time? He’s confused, guys. He also really doesn’t have all the information (Eventually he’s gonna ask but first we have to deal with Sophia. Sorry. I don’t want to either.)

[chelseeebe]

do you think i have forgotten (about you)

a part two to come pick me up.

summary: eddie finds himself out of jail and right back on your doorstep. running from his past while trying desperately to fix the mess he had left you in only leads to complicated situations.

a/n: so this is actually not what i had expected to post lmfao but similar to part one i reread this in my drafts and literally fell in love.. like it needed to be posted.

18+. smut, smoking, drug and alcohol use. mentions of jail and creepy therapists. angst.. sweet sweet angst. as before, this is stevexreader however this part is way more about eddie and r.

you can’t lie. the last few months had been pretty tough, on both you and steve. through no fault of his own though.

you were just.. unwell. perhaps you always had been and the process of seeing someone you regarded as your best friend beat the shit out of someone and subsequently be jailed for it had brought all those feelings up.

‎♡‧₊˚

not to mention the emotional toll of him dipping in and out of your life and the countless other reckless shit he’d pulled you into before.

currently things were stable, yours and steve’s relationship was good, you were going to work and succeeding in being mostly sober. a little help from a short stay in a psychiatric ward and some nice new pills had you feeling semi-okay again.

it had started not long after eddie was sentenced, you’d sat in the docks of the courtroom and watched the judge bang the gavel down as he was sentenced to twenty four months. it stung knowing that he’d gotten himself in this position because you’d dared to kiss your boyfriend in front of him.

nevertheless, a few short weeks after the horrid court date you’d suffered a complete breakdown at a party. throwing anything you could get your hands on, sobbing hysterically as steve tried his best to calm you. right in front of everybody, their gawping eyes prying as you were escorted out by the police who had then issued a caution and had recommended to the judge that you needed some sort of mental health intervention.

at the time it was humiliating. the worst part being that it felt like everyone around you was walking on eggshells, trying to coddle you and tell you that it was all okay. you’d known it wasn’t. maybe it could be, but for right then, no.

coming back into the apartment and the real world had been quite frankly, awful. missing the safety of the ward, you couldn’t hurt anyone in there.

steve had been your saviour through it all. making sure he was there for every visit with a great big smile on his. he was gentle, giving you your meds, making sure you were eating and he’d even found you a job, helping you apply, christ he’d even ran through a mock interview with you, putting on a deep voice and asking you silly questions.

and do you know what?

eventually things got back to some sense of normality. braving your first gathering, trembling as you walked through the door, terrified that everyone would hate you only to find that all anyone had really cared about was making sure you were well again.

and that lands us here, finally finishing a dragging shift and traipsing home to collapse into bed to wait for steve to get home.

except, nearing the front door you notice it’s cracked open slightly. the door handle looks busted and you’re ninety percent sure that either someone was currently in your apartment or had been in and ransacked it.

you push the door open with one finger, it freaks loudly as it opens slowly, startling the intruder who curses and drops whatever they were holding.

‘you have five seconds to get the fuck out,’ you warn, creeping from behind the door frame nervously.

there’s a figure stood in the middle of the room, back turned to you who very slowly puts his hands in the air, surrendering.

he turns to face you, a shit-eating grin on his face and you finally recognise the cocky face staring back at you.

‘eddie?!’

he breathes a sigh of relief, ‘holy shit i was startin’ to think you’d moved out and i’d just broken into some strangers apartment,’ cackling as his arms outstretch to hug you.

‘what the fuck- what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be in jail!’ in utter disbelief that he was stood before you, debating whether pinching yourself would wake you up from this strange dream.

‘i got out! duh,’ he grins, making his way towards you, arms still outstretched.

‘you.. you got out? what? you’re not supposed to be out for like another year.. i don’t- i’m not understanding,’ carefully wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you into a hug.

he felt stronger, sturdy as his arms wrap around your waist. the hug lasts for what feels like an eternity until you back to properly examine his face and to once again check that you weren’t hallucinating.

‘i can’t believe you’re actually here.. how are you? i’m sorry i’ve been.. busy,’ trying to recover over the last few months had meant that you’d sorta neglected eddie, his last letter still in the clutter on your desk somewhere.. unanswered.

unfortunately for him, you’d had a few more important things to focus on. like trying not to break down and keep your relationship with steve afloat.

‘i’m good, i’m always good.. what’ve you been up to? i missed your letters,’ it was a simple statement but you’d never truly comprehend just how much receiving anything from you had meant to him, how much it kept him going.

you let go of him fully, motioning for him to take a seat, ‘it’s a super long story..’ sighing as you jam the bursted door shut, steve would have to look at it on his day off.

‘well it’s a good thing i’ve got time,’ collapsing into the cushions, making himself right at home.

-

you and eddie are sat on the couch smoking when the key turns in the door and steve walks in, looking just as exhausted as he did when he left this morning. the tiny shadow of a smile that was on his face is dropped the second he see’s eddie, replaced with a state of pure confusion.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, dropping his bag onto the floor as eddie clambers off of the sofa to greet him.

steve’s face is a picture, eyebrows knitted together as eddie’s hand claps his back, ‘you’re supposed to be in prison?’

eddie pulls back, holding onto steves shoulder’s, ‘and you’re supposed to be happy to see me,’ faux-offended by steve’s confused stature.

‘no.. i am, what? why are you out?’

eddie shrugs him off, coming back to the couch, ‘ehh it’s a long story.. come.. sit, how was work, big boy?’ taking the spliff from your outstretched hand to offer to steve.

steve plonks himself down next to you, placing your legs over his thighs instead of the couch, ‘yeah.. it was alright, i’m sorry- why the fuck are you in my living room and not in federal prison?’ taking the burning joint from eddie’s fingers.

‘i got out,’ eddie offers back, the exact same thing he’d said to you. you had come to the conclusion that his departure from jail had perhaps not been entirely legal but it was way easier to brush it off rather than trying to probe him.

steve narrows his eye’s, obviously also not buying his bullshit but decides instead to smoke whatever had been handed to him, humming as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke.

‘i said that he could stay here.. just for a few days, if that’s okay?’ you ask, looking up at your boyfriend with hopeful eyes.

he pauses, contemplating if harbouring a, presumed, escaped convict was really a great idea, ‘uhh.. yeah i’m sure a few days is fine..’ he didn’t sound so sure himself.

‘thanks man,’ eddie nods, eyeing the door to his old bedroom.

the thing is, when eddie was convicted, his uncle had come to collect most of his stuff, taking it back to hawkins in his van. you’d thought he’d be locked up for at least two years so sending his things back to hawkins was the smartest idea. that meant when you guys moved out, you weren’t left to deal with his mountains of crap.

you catch him looking, feeling a tad guilty that he’d come back to nothing, ‘the bed’s still in there but.. it’s mostly storage now,’ scrunching your nose as you grimace.

‘that’s alright.. anything’s better than prison,’ he jokes, offering a saddened chuckle.

‘yeah.. exactly,’ not that you had much idea what prison was like, but from what eddie had told you, your living room floor would be an improvement.

the three of you spend a few hours right there on the couch, listening to eddie’s tales from jail, entangled with your stories of all the thing he’d missed. steve nudges you at some point, muttering something about bed which you agree with, rushing around to find eddie a spare blanket.

‘you’ll be okay in here?’ you ask, poised in the doorway.

‘yeah it’s great.. thank you,’ he smiles, sitting down on the edge of his old bed, peering around the now mostly empty room.

it felt a little suffocating if he was honest, the sheer amount of memories these blank four walls held. he swore he could hear echoes of your laugh from the times before, remembering the nights where you’d stumble back here and subsequently pass out in a heap on his bed. he shakes his head slightly, ridding himself of the thought before it got too deep.

‘okay, well.. goodnight,’ flashing him a tight-lipped smile before closing the door and making your way to your own room.

steve is stood facing the window, already stripped out of his clothes, ready for bed. he spins when he hears the door click shut, walking over to where you stood undressing with a grin, hands finding their place on your waist.

you hum at the feeling of his palms on your skin, ‘what’re you doing?’ shimmying out of your horrendous grey work trousers.

his lips softly press against the back of your neck and maybe it’s the weed or maybe it’s spite but he can’t help himself, fingers coming down to mess with the waistband of your panties. placing your hand over his to stop him from going any further.

‘we can’t,’ you hush, acutely aware that eddie was just a few doors down and would most certainly hear.

‘we can.. you’ll just have to be quiet,’ murmuring against the back of your neck, your hand doing absolutely nothing to really try and stop him. ‘can you do that for me?’

he travels further down, past the flimsy waistband, feeling his smirk widen against your skin as you sigh softly, sliding your hand onto his forearm, using it for leverage while his middle finger begins to circle your already sensitive clit.

your sex life hadn’t been what it was in the beginning, both of you busy with work and mental health crises that it was now more of a rarity to find the time. it’s not really lost on you as to why steve is so eager for it tonight but you couldn’t help but to feel at least a little turned on by this sudden bout of possessiveness.

your eyes flutter closed as he adds another finger to the equation, letting your body lean back against his bare chest, ‘my god,’ you moan softly, leaving crescent moon shapes indented in his skin.

‘hmm? is that good, baby?’ his plump, pink lips pressing gentle kisses to you neck and shoulders, teeth grazing the agile skin. he’s unforgiving and really not trying to be quiet at all.

it was definitely spite.

you can feel his erect cock against your ass, unknowingly writhing around, brushing up against him. his fingers hastily leave the safety of your now sodden underwear, manoeuvring your body to face him.

‘you’re such an asshole,’ you hush, gripping onto his arms for balance, walked backwards towards the bed.

a menacing smirk plastered on his face as he falls on top of you, knowing full well that eddie could definitely hear your soft pants and the way your lips echoed his name. stevestevesteve.

his fingers are brushing the hair from your face, making sure you were looking at him. it’s disgusting how attractive you find this. steve wasn’t usually one for such outward jealousy but you couldn’t say you hated it. legs wrapping around his torso after he had slipped your underwear off.

you don’t even attempt to conceal the whimper that ripples through your throat when he slides into your cunt. gripping onto his shoulders as the bed begins to creak, headboard knocking into the dry wall, unapologetic with his movements.

completely unashamed.

-

you’re eternally grateful that eddie doesn’t mention anything the next morning though he avoids steve’s eye and keeps his head low until he leaves for work. breathing an almost undetected sigh of relief when the door clicks shut.

the pair of spend most of the day lounging on the couch in front of the television, watching the overdue videos steve had neglected to return. the darkness eventually creeps up on you. the moon shining through the windows.

‘c’mon.. let’s go out,’ eddie nudges your knee with his, a devilish grin plastered across his face. he’d been bored shitless all day, as much as he enjoyed the mundane with you.. he wanted to go out. feel that rush through his veins as you got into something you shouldn’t.

‘i shouldn’t.. i’ve been doing good lately, it’s.. i can’t,’ sinking further into the sofa. you wanted to go out, really. but you and eddie going out alone together was a recipe for disaster.

‘and that’s why you deserve a treat.. c’mon, i know you want to,’ egging you on, now poking your knee with his finger, his other hand gripping onto the warm beer can.

you ponder for a second, pursing your lips as you weigh up the pros and cons. you don’t have to get wasted.. you could go out with eddie and be back before steve got home from work. yeah. you could do that.

‘where?’

eddie’s smile widens, he’d anticipate a hell of a lot more nagging and pleading than this, ‘fucking.. anywhere, the night is young and so are we.’

‘okay.. but, we’re having a normal night.. nothing crazy and i wanna be back here before steve is, got it?’ raising your eyebrows as you down the last sliver of wine.

‘absolutely.. whatever you want,’ eddie chuckles, slapping his knees as he stands from the couch, ‘c’mon.. get dressed.’

you stare up at him for a moment before getting up from the couch and slinking into yours and steve’s room. he wouldn’t be happy about this but if you were home and in bed before he was, he wouldn’t have much to complain about and if he did, he’d get over it.

and hey, maybe you could prove to him that you were okay now. that you were ready and able to handle things on your own.

-

everyone goes absolutely crazy when eddie walks in, almost as if he’d been locked up for a year. there are a few unhappy murmurs, worried onlookers who had been there that night.

but he doesn’t seem to care, shaking hands and chatting to everyone that came up to him. people handing him cups of mystery liquor which eventually got passed onto you.

you’re perched next to him on the couch, drinking the vile tasting liquid without a second thought. the odd person still coming up to him in shock, asking all sorts about what life was like on the inside.

and he just laughs and tell them the same generic story about earning his way and how eventually people listened to him. you doubt much of it is actually true but let him continue nonetheless. what did you know about prison?

bedsides, you’d seen the scars that now littered his knuckles and forearms. how his muscles had grown and the way his nose now bent slightly to the left. he must’ve done something to earn them.

your head is pretty fuzzy the first time the plate full of mystery white powder is passed around. respectfully declining and mumbling about sticking to drink.

but by the second time it comes your way, you’re glancing down at the porcelain with eager eyes. one tiny line couldn’t hurt, right? you still had plenty of time to sober up and get home before steve.

so you pick up the rolled up note, eddie’s eyes watching like a hawk, ‘hey.. you sure?’ his own jaw clenching from his previous line.

‘it’s fine,’ you nod reassuringly, holding one nostril and sniffing the pre-cut line, sniffing harshly. you’d forgotten how much it stung, making your eyes water as you pass the plate onwards.

you sit back into the couch, watching as the conversation roars around you. waiting for that sweet, sweet feeling when it finally hit.

and oh boy, does it.

one second you’re sat on the couch and the next you’re pulling eddie up onto his feet, trying to make him dance along to the pounding music with you. it all sounded so good. your body warm and loose. heart pounding in your chest as the beat vibrates through your limbs.

you’re not sure how long you’re dancing for, keeping your eyes closed while other people start getting up to join you.

not even questioning the second line when it re-emerges. still slowly sipping on what was now a dark liquor, bitter in taste, burning your throat on the way down.

eddie’s hand gingerly touches your waist causing you to pull your eyes to him. he’s dancing too, clutching onto the beer bottle, pupils dilated as they cling to you. cling to your body. moving in time with his.

everything’s a little blurry but you keep your eyes steady on eddie, smiling as the music distorts in your ears. it sounded robotic and weird but still had you wiggling your hips in time with the odd beat.

his other hand meets your waist, more confidently this time, pulling your body towards his. you think nothing of it, focussed on moving in time to the music.

eddie’s hand moves up to cup your cheek, the party bleating on around you as he tips your chin up towards his. a soft smile on his face as your eyes meet his fully.

the next few seconds happen so quickly that you’re not even sure if it actually happened.

his lips crash against yours, pressing himself to your chest, hand clinging to your cheek. he’s desperate with it, hungry and insatiable.

the magic dust you’d just inhaled must have softened your inhibitions because you’re kissing him back. palm pressed against his chest, fingers curling into his t-shirt.

until you finally realise exactly what you’re doing.

pulling yourself away from him, stumbling backwards as you blink up at him. had you actually just kissed him? no, why the fuck had he kissed you?

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ you exclaim, mind still hazy under the influence of whatever narcotics they were passing around.

your stomach twists. steve was probably sat at home waiting for you to get back, worried sick about where you’d gone. all the while you’re kissing his best friend at a party he had no idea was happening. it makes your stomach twist, guilt coursing through your chest.

you back away from eddie, tripping over another party goers outstretched legs as you go. head pounding, hands tingling. everything surrounding you had become a massive blur of flashing lights and distorted faces.

‘fuck.. wait!’ eddie calls out from the living room but you’re already gone, pushing past the gaggle of people in the hallway as you fumble for the doorknob.

the cold air hitting you the second the door is open, you hadn’t brought a jacket. or had you? you can’t really remember.

there are people strewn across the front yard, watching as you stumble down the path, fumbling for your phone in you pocket. the letters all jumble into one as you click through searching for steve's contact. slamming the green button the second you recognise the slight curve of the s.

he answers on the first ring, ‘hello? where are you?’ you’d missed the tens of missed calls from his number.

‘i’m.. i don’t know,’ sobbing into the receiver as one of the onlookers from the party approaches you, ‘where are we?’

from what you can make out, it’s a young girl, she looks worried as she takes the phone from your hand and places it to her ear, telling steve whatever street you were on. her spare hand reaches out to rub your back, keeping you close to her body as steve fucking sprints from your apartment to the address.

eddie makes absolutely zero attempts to try and find you, assuming that you’d already run off home. fuck it, he was out now. might as well prolong the inevitable argument with steve for as long as possible.

when steve arrives, he’s practically frantic, taking you from the kind girl as he leads you off home. his arm keeping your body held upright as you wail the entire way home.

‘steve..’ you sniffle, being guided into the empty apartment, ‘we kissed- eddie kissed me.. i didn’t mean to, i promise,’ clinging onto his neck as you’re lead into your bedroom.

he’s weirdly silent, placing you gently onto the bed, taking off your shoes before sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

‘have you taken anything?’ he questions, choosing to ignore your confession, for his own sanity mostly.

you nod into the pillow, sprawled out on the mattress as the room spins around you. it’s dizzying, and not just the room spinning but the fact that steve was still so gentle even after your admission.

‘what? what d’you take?’

‘i don’t know.. coke i think.’

he nods, swallowing the growing fury in his throat, ‘i’ll get you some water, try and sleep yeah?’

he goes to get up but you’re already grabbing onto his forearm, keeping him firmly on the bed, ‘don’t go.. please,’ your voice hoarse from the party.

god, you thought. you sound utterly pitiful, ashamed that even after all he had done for you, you couldn’t hold your shit together on your own and were still relying on steve.

‘okay,’ he whispers, kicking his shoes off and swinging his legs over and onto the bed, sitting up on the pillows rather than joining you properly.

his arm snakes around your back, lifting your body ever so slightly to slide his arm under, pulling you onto his warm chest. stubbly chin coming to rest atop of your head.

you nestle your head into his cotton shirt, ‘i love you,’ head rising with every breath he took, closing your eyes and attempting to fall asleep despite the fact it felt like there was something stabbing into the side of your brain.

-

steve’s sat, deadpanned on the couch when eddie attempts to creep back in. startled by his presence in the darkened room. by this time, the birds had begun to chirp as the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds.

‘shit man..’ eddie clutches his chest, ‘you scared me,’ he fumbles his way through the room, still pretty intoxicated, lips sore from chewing on them all night.

steve blinks, scrunching up his face as the other boy takes a seat next to him. eddie’s sure he knows. you had definitely told him. jesus christ, why wouldn’t you? he fucked up. again.

‘you can’t stay here anymore,’ steve states, stoic.

he wasn’t letting much on here. eddie almost wishes he’d just beat his ass and get it over with at least it’d be better than this creepy shit he had going on.

‘bro.. i’m sorry, i was fucked up.. i don’t know what the hell i was doing,’ he’s staring wide-eyed at steve who’s staring straight ahead, jaw tense, ‘shit, punch me if you want.. god knows i’d deserve it.’

‘i don’t care,’ steve presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, ‘you come back and you fuck everything up.. do you know how hard i’ve tried to help her.. all these meds and doctors appointments,’ steve’s shoulder’s slump, ‘fuck man, i even had to take her to this creepy ass therapist and try not to beat the shit out of him every time i dropped her off.. d’you know how hard that was?’ he sounds desperate now, dropping the weird, unsettling facade, turning to eddie with a genuine look of hurt upon his face.

eddie’s mouth opens to reply, but he has nothing to say. hasn’t a clue how to answer that because he didn’t know. yeah, you’d told him about it and how steve hadn’t left your side throughout it all but he had no idea that this was how steve had felt.

‘no,’ steve scoffs, ‘no you don’t know.. because you weren’t there,’ he sighs before continuing, ‘you didn’t have to watch the love of your life be dragged away because some judge had deemed her crazy. you weren’t there week in, week out in that hospital.. helpless.’

steve wouldn’t ever think of you as a burden but fuck, he needed to tell literally anyone the shit he had bottled up and eddie was now the (un)willing participant to catch the brunt of his frustration.

eddie swallows, staring out into the dark room, ‘i didn’t know.. i’m sorry,’ he’s scrambling now, trying to think of something, anything to say that could help, but he can’t. in steve’s eyes, he’s the one who continually seems to ruin shit for you. ruin you.

‘so no, i don’t want to hit you because you kissed my girlfriend but i do want to fucking kill you for coming in here and messing her up all over again,’ steve spits, his words like venom as they hit eddie square in the face.

any traces of intoxication had been pummelled from his body, head beginning to pound from the impending hangover, chest heavy under the weight of steve’s words.

his eyes squeeze shut. he was a fuck up and he knew it. he wasn’t sure why he’d even done it. you just looked so pretty and blissful and.. and you’d smiled at him the way you used to and he’d thought that maybe that had meant something. the few seconds that you’d kissed him back had felt like euphoria, for the first time in so long everything felt right again.

steve interrupts his train of self-pitying thought by standing from the couch, turning to walk away but pauses, ‘i’ll help you find somewhere tomorrow.. maybe nance n’ all will let you stay,’ and even through all of this steve couldn’t help but be kind to the man.

that’s what hit eddie the hardest, that even though he had hurt his best friend.. he was still stood in front of him throwing him a line and offering a sense of patience and understanding that eddie hadn’t felt in far too long.

he watches in silence as steve slinks off to your shared bedroom, head hanging low in utter shame. he’d never admit aloud, and especially not to steve, but the thought of you was the one thing getting him through his sentence.

the first few months were pretty rocky, having to prove himself time and time again, resulting in a multitude of different injuries but at the end of the day, he’d climb into his bunk and re-read the letters you’d sent. thumbing the pages until they were yellowed and worn. the mere thought of you still thinking about him was enough to make him get out of bed each morning.

he peers down at his scarred hands, tracing over the glistening white indentations. they all told their own individual story, the big one that ran across the large part of his hand was the worst after being slashed with a makeshift shiv during a fight. he was quite lucky really, his hand had taken the majority of the damage and had meant he wasn’t left to bleed out on the floor.

so he’d gotten stitches, kept his mouth shut and things had started to change. and yet still, every night he’d go to bed thinking of your face, telling himself that it wasn’t long to go.

you were his saving grace. the only thing that had stopped him slipping into darkness. he’d thought about it plenty, hurting himself or one of the douchebag inmates he shared the small space with. at least that way he’d get moved into solitary, maybe he’d even prove himself to the other guys.

-

you keep quiet when steve comes into your bedroom, unsure of whether to let him know you had practically heard their entire conversation. the mattress dips when he gets into bed, exhaling softly and making sure the blanket is covering both of you.

he sits in silence for a moment, you can feel his eyes burning into your face before he eventually settles in and lies back on the pillow.

‘are you mad at me?’ you squeak, gazing at him from tired eyes.

your voice startles him, so sure that you were still asleep but he answers quickly, ‘no, never,’ turning on his side to face you, inches from your face. it felt so intimate like this, vulnerable.

‘i heard what you said.. i’m sorry for..’ your bottom lip wobbles and you try hard to blink away the brimming tears, ‘for putting you through that.’

he’s immediately comforting you, placing a warm hand on your sodden cheek, ‘you’re okay.. it’s okay, you didn’t do anything,’ steve’s gut twisted, he hadn’t meant for you to hear any of it and the thought of you feeling guilty for eddie’s sake pricked at his heart.

you nod, not completely believing his words but for the sake of not causing a problem so early in the morning, deciding to just accept it. no matter how much it had been parroted to you, there was no accepting that none of this was your fault.

‘it’s just the way your brain is wired,’ dr. foster had said during one of your sessions, ‘but i’m here to make it all better,’ his eyes were narrowed, carefully watching you from his leather chair.

the memory alone makes you shudder, he’d been all for this authentic, organic approach.. hosting the sessions in his home and perhaps at times, becoming a little too familiar. his hand patting your knee as you spoke, asking creepy questions about your relationship with steve and overstepping a shit ton of boundaries. he had these icy blue eyes that lingered on yours for too long, there was something deeply unsettling about the way they narrowed when steve was mentioned. the utter anger they held when you brought up eddie. oh no, he really didn’t like eddie.

he’d been the one to suggest that you slow down with the letters to eddie, telling you that focusing on recovery was more important. it had worked in his favour anyway, the letters becoming the least of your concerns as you navigated recovery.

nonetheless, he didn’t last long. you were still in that mellow adjustment period, getting used to the meds when steve had informed you that dr. foster was no longer going to be your therapist. something about a conflict of schedules but you weren’t sure how true that really was.

-

it had been a few weeks since you’d last seen eddie, unsure of where he was or what trouble he’d gotten himself into. maybe even a minuscule part of you was hoping that he’d got himself arrested, at least that way you’d know he was safe inside and not wrecked in a ditch somewhere.

for the most part, you’d managed to put him to the back of your mind. it was only when things got quiet did you worry about him. deep down, you knew it was for the best. you couldn’t be around him without that niggling voice in the back of your head creeping back up. there was too much history there.

and steve had been so wonderful. you’re not sure you’d ever felt love like this. so transparent and pure, so void of expectations that he could see you at your worst and still be just as content to love you.

it all makes your heart ache, were you enough for steve even when you were like this? he had bore witness to the most horrific times of your life and yet, he’d be there everyday with a smile on his face and an open heart prepared for whatever that day may bring.

he’d taken the day off of work to purely spend it with you. granted, you’d only wanted to sit on the couch and watch a bunch of terrible movies with him but it was good enough. you’re not sure how long you’ve now been on this couch, but you knew it was late as the street lights glimmer that harsh orange through the blinds.

this film has you falling asleep, steve’s pick, obviously. you’d slid down the couch to rest your head on his lap, eyelids weighing heavy as sleep threatens to take over.

until you’re both startled by the incessant banging on the door, fist pummelling into the already brittle wood. your head snaps upward towards steve, pouting at the rude awakening. who on earth could find the need to pound the door at this time?

‘you expectin’ anyone?’ steve asks curiously, sliding your head from his thigh, very cautiously getting off of the couch to answer the door.

‘no? robin, maybe?’ unless robin had turned into a rabid zombie, you were sure it probably wasn’t her on the other side.

steve peers through the peep hole, seemingly taken aback but what or whoever he sees on the other side, ‘shit..’ cursing under his breath as he slides the chain from the door, opening it just slightly.

‘what?’ petrified by his reaction, sitting up on the couch to prepare for the impending insanity on the other side.

‘jesus man.. what are you doing here?’ he’s pushed aside as what looks like one eddie munson barges through the door, gasping for air and looking worse for wear.

he’s clutching his knees, doubled over as he tries to catch his breath, ‘i fucking.. ran the whole way here..’

if you’re being honest, he looks terrible. hair limp as it hangs around his face, clothes dirtied and you can’t see his face properly but you’re sure there’s a shiner of a bruise on his cheek.

‘what are you doing? what’s wrong?’ you fret, swinging your legs over the side of the couch as steve closes the door, bolting it up again in hopes that whatever eddie was running from was not following him.

he exhales before standing up straight, wiping the sweat from his forehead, ‘i need your help.. both of you,’ looking to steve who was stood with his hand on his hip, concerned about the inevitable mess eddie had just welcomed back into your lives.

‘why? where have you been?’

the last you’d heard from him, nancy had, very reluctantly, agreed to let him stay in their couch for a few days until he got himself sorted. but they’d woken up the next morning to find that he was no longer on said couch, not a trace of him left behind. he was completely unreachable, no phone, no idea where he had escaped off to and absolutely no one had seen or heard from him.

initially it had been a frenzy to try and find him until you collectively realised that he didn’t want to be found this time. and you had to mourn him all over again.

‘steve, d’you still know how to make fakes?’ completely ignoring your question, blinking at a puzzled steve.

your eyes flit to steve, unaware that he apparently had a history in counterfeit goods. perhaps a crucial bit of information he’d glossed over there.

‘not anymore.. what the fuck do you need that for?’

‘you know anyone that does? i’m desperate man.. i- i’ll pay,’ eddie pants, ‘name your price,’ chest heaving as he stands in the middle of your living room. he felt out of place here now, stuck out like a sore thumb.

steve ponders for a second, ‘uhh.. i dunno, maybe.. what’ve you done?’ sighing softly.

‘i need to leave the country.. i fucked up.. big time,’ eyes flitting to you with a certain sadness. even now, he didn’t want to disappoint you yet it seemed to be all he could do.

‘what’ve you done?’ you press, chewing on the inside of your cheek. mind running to the worst possibly conclusion. murder wasn’t out of the equation if you were honest.

eddie runs a dirtied, ringed hand over his face, ‘you know how i’m kinda s’posed to be in jail right now?’ it was already glaringly obvious that he hadn’t been released early.

‘yeah..’

‘well, i uh- i paid some guys off, they said they could get me out.. get me away from here,’ only now is he realising how fucking stupid that sounded.

‘eddie.. what?’ you exclaim, astonished by the sheer stupidity he constantly displayed. you’d thought that maybe he’d have learnt something from jail, that was the point of it, wasn’t it? learn from your mistakes and better yourself.

‘look, it doesn’t matter.. they’re asking for more money and i don’t have it,’ he says exasperated, ‘i need to disappear.. just for a little while, til they forget about it,’ eyes steady on you, as if to seek your approval.

you blink, where was he even planning to go? were you just never going to see him again?

‘i can’t get you outta the country but.. i might have a friend that can help,’ steve’s voice pipes up, tearing your eyes from eddie to look at him.

‘how?’ you exclaim, wondering what other things he had kept secret from you.

‘my friend’s out in california.. i think he’d put you up there,’ nodding at eddie, he probably didn’t deserve this kindness but steve couldn’t just leave him stranded. there was too much history to ever turn his back on his friend, even now, after everything, he was still holding his hand out for eddie.

‘that’d be.. fuck, that’d be.. good,’ eddie nods along, appreciative of anything you could do for him. turning to meet your gaze once more.

he knows this is it.

there wasn’t any coming back from this. no next time. it was california or it was death. and he sure as shit wasn’t a fan of the second option.

you think, deep down, that you know it too.

the likelihood of seeing him again is next to nothing. if he didn’t get himself killed, he’d certainly never be coming back here. this wasn’t for him, never had been really. well, maybe once upon a time when you looked at him without that sadness in your eye it had been.

when he thought back to it, he was sure the he knew you’d never loved him, he’d just been pretending for so long that his mind had played tricks on him, made him believe it. that’s why he’d lashed out that night, he’d convinced himself that you were in love with him. but you weren’t, and his heart had realised that fact quicker than his head had.

steve disappears into your bedroom in search of his phone, leaving you two alone in the living room. everything you want to say stays unsaid. heavy as it lingers between you. there’s not really much you can say in this moment that wouldn’t make things worse.

instead, you just nod.

as if to say that he could go. he could let you go.

eddie understands. but he’s not sure he ever will.

[halsteadlover]

My Warrior

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Pregnant!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Jay x pregnant!Reader where she's like in labor but has some complications and almost dies but at the end she is saved ? And Jay is al worried but then he becomes a softy with her being happy 'bout having his daughter/son with them? Angs/fluff, just do it if you want to, if not s'okay.

• Warnings: mention of blood, birth, tiny bit of swearing.

• Word count: 3951.

• A/N: first of all I want to apologize for any grammar error and I’m aware that medically speaking there will be many mistakes but I was too lazy to search it up so bear with me 💀 I hope you’ll like it anyways, comment, like and reblog if you want, it’d be amazing. Thank you for everything and your constant support. I love you all, my inbox is always open if you want to even just talk ❤️

“Jay I think my water just broke.”

From the moment these words came out of your mouth panic set in and if the contractions weren't so painful, you probably would have laughed at the way Jay was running back and forth around the house looking for the bag he had preemptively packed weeks and weeks before.

“Baby where's the bag? Did you see it? I swear I left it here in the bedroom… Oh my god, oh god…” he kept rambling, opening every closet door, even checking under the bed and behind the door.

You approached him just as the contractions stopped and grabbed his arm. “Baby just take it easy, everything will be fine.”

He nodded and took deep breaths as you did so, while you tried not to chuckle. “Okay, okay, I'm fine. Everything will be fine. I’m sorry love, I should be calming you now, how are you feeling now?”.

At the exact moment those words left his lips, a rather intense and painful contraction made you lean forward, your hand squeezing Jay's arm tightly.

“Oh fuck…” you mumbled, eyes closed in pain.

“We’re going to Med's baby, okay? It's okay, it's okay,” Jay whispered, patting your back in comfort but worried sick. He tried to stay as calm as possible, not to go crazy even though he was a complete mess. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him, you were about to give birth to his child and besides the excruciating pain of the contractions you didn't need to deal with his nervousness.

They prepared you for the childbirth’s pain, how intense the contractions would be, but no pre-natal course, manual or blog would ever really prepare you for how much pain you would have to go through. Your screams echoed throughout the room and you kept praying to God that all that pain would end soon, you just wanted to hug your baby.

Jay never left your side for even a second nor did his hand ever leave yours. He was sitting next to you, you squeezing his hand while he caressed your back even though he figured that gesture didn't help. His stomach was twisted with anxiety, he could hardly believe he was about to finally hug his son, his baby, he couldn’t believe you were about to become a family.

“Please make it stop,” you cried desperately, writhing in the bed.

“I'm so sorry baby, I'd take all your pain if I could,” Jay replied and he meant every single word. He would really rather suffer and take all your pain than see you suffer like that. He hated you were in such an intense pain and he just couldn't do anything to make you better, he hated feeling so useless as he heard the love of his life scream in pain.

“I hate you so fucking much Jay…” you screamed “I swear you’ll never touch me with a fucking finger again!”.

“I know love, it's my fault,” he tried to humor you, stroking your hair.

“And don't say that just to make me happy! I'm not fucking stupid!” anger took over “Stupid fucking men, you have sex, come inside us and we have to suffer like this!”.

Jay tried not to laugh, biting the inside of his cheeks or he knew he’d most likely get killed. He wanted to suffer with you but he cared about his life.

The rest of Jay's team, along with his brother who had been on duty up until then, arrived a couple of hours into your labor but they figured it might not be the time to go in there all together given the way you kept cursing jay and the whole world.

“Okay Y/N here we go. Are you ready to hug your baby?” your gynecologist asked, checking the dilation of your cervix and realizing you were now ready to push.

You nodded and thought it was also time, since you had been in labor for more than twelve hours.

“Is the dad okay? He looks like he saw a ghost,” the gynecologist laughed, noting the pallor of Jay's skin.

“I'm fine, I'm fine, it's finally happening,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Please don't leave me,” you begged, eyes filled with tears and your hand clasped over his.

He kissed your forehead. “I won't leave you baby, don't even say that as a joke. Man, we're about to be parents.”

You nodded smiling through tears. “I'm sorry I told you I hate you, it's not true baby, I love you so much.”

“I know baby, I know,” he kissed your forehead again “I love you so much too.”

Your doctor smiled as she saw the love between you and Jay, the way you looked at each other, the way he kept holding you and comforting you.

Under indication of the doctor, you started to push as you kept thinking you had to hold on, to resist for your baby that you so wanted to hold in your arms, for the little creature you were about to give birth. But you were so exhausted, so damn tired, you didn't know if you'd make it, if you'd hold on much longer.

“Okay now stop pushing, take some deep breaths Y/N, you're doing great,” your gynecologist spoke, and you leaned exhausted into Jay's arms.

“I'm so proud of you baby, so damn proud, I could never do what you're doing,” Jay whispered, kissing your sweaty forehead. He stroked your face, brushing the sticky hair from your forehead and squeezing you like he never did before.

“I can't take it anymore Jay, I'm so tired… I can't take it…” you cried, powerless. Damn it, you never imagined childbirth was such a tiring and exhausting experience.

“Of course you can darling, you're so strong…” he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek “You're my little warrior. I know you're tired, I know, but you'll rest soon love, one last effort and we can hug our baby okay? Take some deep breaths, can you do it for me baby?”.

You nodded, starting to take deep breaths with him.

When it came time to push again, you really thought you were going to die, a searing pain that felt like it was cutting you in two.

“Very good Y/N, you are amazing, I can see your baby’s little head, we are almost there!” the gynecologist exclaimed “A couple more pushes.”

“You're doing so well baby, I'm so proud of you, one last effort,” Jay said, staring straight ahead as he tried not to pass out at the imagine of the baby’s head coming from inside you.

There was a moment you stopped breathing when your baby was born, the moment you were waiting to hear his cry, which felt like an eternity. It was as if you began to live again when the sound of his crying echoed through the room and you never felt so relieved.

The emotion you felt the moment you first hugged him up was indescribable, a moment that would be etched in your mind for your entire life. You couldn't believe you were finally able to hold him, that he was right there in front of you, healthy and so handsome.

“Our baby,” you whispered, staring at him in awe before returning your eyes to your husband, who, on the other hand, was a walking disaster. He cried all the tears in his system, tears he didn't even know he had and he hadn't felt like this since he saw you walking down the aisle when he was about to marry you.

“Our baby,” he cried, pressing his lips against yours trying to express in that kiss all his gratitude towards you, for giving him the family he had always wanted, a healthy and beautiful son, the love he felt for you.

Jay held you close, his eyes filled with love as he watched the little creature in your arms.

When it was his turn to pick him up he didn't deny he was nervous. He disinfected his hands over and over again, making sure to keep them clean and asking the nurse over and over for reassurance about how he was doing. Of course, he had taken other children in his arms but never so small and his son was so small and fragile he was afraid of accidentally hurting him.

“Hi baby,” Jay greeted his son, who was now stretching in his arms. “You are so handsome buddy, wow, you are definitely a Halstead.”

That comment made you chuckle even though you still felt very weak. You kept watching Jay cuddle your baby in silence until suddenly you broke into a cold sweat.

You brought a hand to your chest, your heart beating so fast it felt like it was about to stop at any moment. You could feel the shortness of breath, your chest rose and fell quickly in an attempt to fill your lungs with air but failing miserably.

Sharp pains ran through your uterus and you couldn't explain why. You were sure what was happening wasn’t normal.

“Jay…” you called him, but your voice was too soft for anyone to hear.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Hey!” Will exclaimed as he looked back at you and noticing the way you were breathing heavily and writhing on the bed. Jay immediately turned to you and his heart nearly stopped in his chest as he saw the state you were in.

Will immediately called for help and nurses quickly arrived, picking up the newborn as Jay was no longer able to hold him.

“What the fuck is going on?! Y/N! Baby!” exclaimed Jay, approaching you but a nurse prevented him, trying to keep him at bay. “Let me go! She's wife! What the hell is going on?!” Jay kept exclaiming loudly.

Will had placed an oxygen mask over your face to help you breathe and his eyes widened as he noticed the huge pool of blood at your belly.

“Call the OR immediately and warn Rhodes we're on our way!” Will ordered under the gaze of his brother who continued to yell at the nurse who prevented him from approaching you.

“Where is my baby?” you whispered, feeling increasingly weak and powerless.

“He's fine, he's safe,” Will reassured you.

“Jay?”.

“I'm here baby, I'm here, it's okay, just hold on for me,” Jay replied quickly and god the relief you felt to hear his voice.

Jay pushed the nurse away, almost making him fall, and ran to your bedside, immediately taking your hand and stroking your hair. “Everything will be fine baby, you'll be fine, don't you dare play tricks on me, you understand me?”.

You wanted to answer but your voice didn’t come out. The lights began to dim, the sounds and noises distant, as you began to drift into shadows and darkness.

“Y/N? Baby? Y/N!” Jay exclaimed in despair when he realized you passed out, no longer responding to any stimulus.

“Jay we need to go to the OR immediately, there's no time to waste,” Will warned after checking your pulse and realizing it was there but it was rather weak. Jay reluctantly let go of your hand and in a hurry they carried you and your bed into the operating room.

Jay walked out of the room, his eyes following you, desperate and in tears.

“Jay what is going on? Where are they taking her?” Kim asked urgently, approaching with the rest of the team when they noticed the commotion that had arisen.

“I…I…” he stammered tearfully, having no idea what the hell had just happened. He was in shock and his mind kept racing on possible scenarios.

“Jay, man, it's okay, take a deep breath,” Kevin walked over to him placing his hands on his shoulders. “What happened?”.

“They're taking her to the OR… She was fine and then she started bleeding… I… I didn't even realize she was feeling bad…” he cried, as the image of you immersed in a puddle of your own blood gasping for air gripped his mind.

“Will! Where is she? Is she okay?”.

Jay was in the waiting room with the rest of the team supporting him. Will joined him, his heart in a vise as he saw the state of anxiety and concern his brother was in.

“Rhodes is still operating her, she lost too much blood but they gave her transfusions and managed to stabilize her,” Will explained “She went into cardiac arrest but they managed to revive her.”

“What? Cardiac arrest?” Jay asked shocked. It couldn't be true, it must all be a nightmare.

How was it possible that you had just given birth to your baby and were now in the operating room fighting for your life.

“Due to the copious bleeding, her blood pressure was very low and the values plummeted. But she's stable now Jay, do you hear me? They pinpointed the source of the bleeding and stopped it.”

“But what happened? Why did she start bleeding? I swear if it was the gynecologist's fault I'll kill that bitch!” Jay exclaimed angrily.

“No Jay, it's not her fault, no one could’ve predicted it, there was a laceration of the birth canal, it's a complication that unfortunately can happen.”

Jay ran his hands over his face in frustration, feeling distract by everything that was going on. He pulled away feeling suddenly overwhelmed by events, as if he was losing every ounce of strength.

“Jay, listen to me brother,” Will joined him then placing a hand on his shoulder “Y/N is strong, she'll make it, you know she's in good hands. How about I walk you to the maternity ward to go meet little Halstead and I’ll go back to the OR? I will update you on everything that happens.”

Jay felt terribly guilty about what had happened because he felt like he had abandoned his son when he needed him instead.

“Hey little man” Jay whispered after picking up his son “I am so sorry I disappeared so suddenly but mum has been feeling unwell and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

He tried to hold back the tears, still praying with every fiber of his being for your recovery.

“She'll be fine I'm sure, your uncle Will is with her now and he'll be back soon okay?” he kept cradling his baby gently in his arms, never taking his eyes off him for even a second.

“You and mom are my life you know that right? The best thing that ever happened to me, seriously buddy I don't know how I would’ve ended if I hadn't met your mum,” he spoke, as if little Halstead could understand him “I still remember when I first met her: it was a rather particular first meeting because it was when in a moment of distraction, at a traffic light, she rear-ended me with the car. She's always been so clumsy, I hope you don't get that from her,” he chuckled “Anyway, she had rear-ended me, she got out of the car and started apologizing furiously, wrote her name and number on a piece of paper telling me she would pay every cent of the damage. I wasn't even mad, God, she was so beautiful, the way she babbled and stuttered, I think I was captivated by her from the start. I didn't care about my car, I just wanted to see her again and that's why I called her back the next day with the excuse of an agreement. I asked her out that same day and well… the rest is history,” he smiled as his mind replayed the memories of your first date, of the first moments you spent together, “I understood right away I was going to marry that woman, that I would’ve never been able to even look at another person who wasn't her. I don't know what she did to me, but dear god, I still love her like I did many years ago and now you're here little one… Shit, I don't think I could be happier than this…”

He took a moment to look at his son, to admire the creature you and him created together..

When he met you never in his life he would’ve thought of loving someone as much as he loved you, he thought his heart would not have been able to welcome another love but, God, seeing that little angel in his arms, his son, he felt completely overwhelmed by the love that little boy only a few hours old had made him feel.

“I already love you so much buddy, more than anything in the world and I swear I will give my life to protect you and your mommy, to keep you safe from this sometimes so cruel world,” he whispered “Don't say mom I said a bad word in front of you or she'll kill me,” he giggled, sniffling as he continued to cry. “You know, you're so lucky to have a mom like her. She is the kindest, purest, most selfless person I've ever met in my life, and I already know she’ll give all of herself to make you happy. It will be a bit tough, I won't deny it, there will be misunderstandings and I ask your forgiveness for when this will happen. Parents aren't perfect, damn little man, mine were the furthest thing from perfect, but never forget we love you more than our own lives, that nothing will ever be more important than you, and that everything we do, even if you disagree with us, will be for your good. I promise I’ll try so hard to be the father that mine wasn’t for me and I’m sorry for when I’ll be wrong, I hope you’ll be able to understand my love.”

“Oh my baby I need your mom so much now…” he continued in a sigh that ended in a sob. He felt a void so deep and painful, a void only you could fill. Jay couldn't exist in a world where you weren't in, a world where he was supposed to get up in the morning and you weren't lying asleep next to him. You were the only person in the world who really knew him, who knew his secrets, his deepest fears, you were the only person who made him happy, who could understand his moods with just a glance, the only one who could pick up his pieces and put them back together when the world seemed to tear him apart.

Jay spent the next two hours with his son, feeding him with the nurses’ help while Will updated him every twenty minutes on the progress of your surgery.

“Jay,” Will called back to his brother who was sitting next to his son’s crib, “The surgery is over, everything went well.”

Jay almost had a heart attack with joy, and taken by the impetus of the moment he ran to his brother and gave him a warm hug. Will smiled and returned that hug.

“Where is she? Is she fine? When can we see her?” he asked frantically.

“You couldn't, but I know nothing and no one is going to stop you so you go but only for ten minutes, am I understood?”.

He nodded, a toothy smile plastered on his face. “I promise.”

“I'll take care of him,” Will answered the unspoken question of his brother, who kept alternating his gaze between his child and Will.

“Don't you dare leave him alone okay?”.

“Don’t you know me at all brother? Now go, I want to spend some time alone with my beautiful little nephew, I haven't had the chance to say hello yet.”

“Thank you so much Will, you’re the best.”

You tried to open your eyes but the blinding light of the room forced you to close them.

It took you some time before they got used to it while instead your mind retraced the events that happened.

You felt groggy from the anesthesia and medications so it took you a while to realize you were in a hospital room.

What happened?

I gave birth.

Where is my baby? Is he fine?

You tried to lift yourself up, failing miserably when you felt a sharp pain go through your abdomen.

“No, no, no, stay still baby don't try to get up,” you felt someone caressing your arms and a voice that you immediately recognized belonged to your husband. You turned your head towards him and it was so nice to see him again.

“What happened? Where is my baby? Tell me he's okay.”

Jay hugged you, being careful not to hurt you or put too much weight on you. “He's fine, he's with Will now,” Jay explained in a low voice “I was so scared Y/N.”

You hugged him back, inhaling his scent deeply.

“You had an uterine hemorrhage… You had a surgery…” he continued but suddenly stopped. You were about to speak when you heard a soft sob and at that point you realized he was crying.

“Hey, hey, baby, look at me,” you whispered, pulling away from the hug only to then gently place your hands on his face now streaked with tears, “I'm fine my love, everything was fine. Please don't cry.”

“I was so scared of losing you,” he whispered “I don't know what I would’ve done without you…”

You kissed him, pressing your lips against his in a kiss with which you tried to express all the love you felt for him and to calm him down.

“You will never get rid of me Mr. Halstead.”

He giggled through tears. “Don't even joking about that Mrs Halstead, I can't even imagine living in a world where you are not in. Don't ever do that to me again do you hear me? You made me worry to death.

“Okay, I'll try not to bleed out next time,” you laughed, but a twinge of pain made you stop. “Damn it hurts.”

“I'm sorry baby,” he kissed your forehead, stroking your hair as he did “You were so strong today my little warrior, try to rest now you deserve it.”

“I want to see my baby, can you bring him here?”.

“Sure love, I'll tell Will.”

You began to cry when you picked up your son, venting all the fear, tension and worry that had overwhelmed you that day. Nonetheless, however, it was worth it. All the morning sickness, the sleepless nights, the perennial back pain, the wrenching and debilitating contractions, you would’ve done it all over again just to be able to see that little face again for the first time.

After Will said goodbye and left you and Jay alone, he sat on the bed right next to you, grinning like an idiot as he saw his son's mother and his baby together. God, he couldn't have made a better choice for the mother oh his kids.

“Look at him baby, he's so handsome,” you whispered, still looking at your little boy.

Jay put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he planted a kiss on the top of your head. “He got it from his mom.”

He brought his free hand close to the little ones of his child and his heart exploded with joy when that little hand grabbed his index finger, squeezing it.

“Thank you for giving me the best gift I could ever ask for, I love you so much baby,” Jay spoke softly, promising himself he would do everything in his power to return this gift and love you with everything he had but also realizing not even a lifetime would be enough to make up for the blessing you gave him. A family.

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[young-royals-confessions]

somehow, in a very weird way, august has cilmbed up my character ranking and is now very very high.

not in a "he did nothing wrong he's a pure innocent baby🥺" way, but in a "he's so well written and he's a terrible person and he knows it and he refuses to change it because he was taught that he's naturally better than everyone else and he worked really hard to get to where he is and he refuses to give it up even if it is bad for him and for other people and he's such a complicated character and every little piece of information we get about him makes him even better because it's so well thought and it is a perfect puzzle in which it all fits together perfectly and his relationship with sara is so important to him because he (just like wille) feels alone and that's why he's so obssessed with her - because he doesn't want more people to know what he did because he's ashamed of it and she already knows and she doesn't care and he has an eating disorder that stems up from his experience with bullying and from his perfectionism and that's the same reason for why he's such an overachiever, because he was always second his whole life and he spent it trying to get to the first place and he never gets it, and it makes him even more self concious and mad at everyone and stressed and that's why he started doing drugs, that's why he was buying vincent's meds, that's how he ended up in this place, by trying to be better than everyone else because he was taught that he needs to be better than everyone else and his dad commited and hillerska is his home and he doesn't have anywhere else to go and it saved him but also it kills him and it shaped the way he is now and how messed up he is and he sold the most important thing in his life to get people to forgive him but it's not enough because it will never be enough, he will never be enough, and what's the point in living if you aren't enough, if you aren't the best and what's the point of being nice to people if it doesn't get you to the first spot oh my god he's so fucked up'' way

i just realised how long this is but i really just have a lot of thoughts about him and i hate him but also i love him and i feel so bad for him and i want to punch him and that just shows how well written he is

[eldritch-bf]

Herbert West identity related headcanons:

ftm (obviously) gay and demi

if he’s 24 in 1985 then he was born in 1961 oof

I’m also using some info from the novelization as canon so he is Canadian and his parents died in a chemical fire in the house when he was 12-13

was forced to take ballet when be was 5-10 (something Jeffry Combs joked about in the commentary from Bride)

his parents were neglectful of him and didn’t really care about him wanting to have short hair or boy clothes plus they chalked it up to his presumably undiagnosed autism

realized he felt weird about the older boy in the foster home (13-18) but didn’t really understand it; mostly he is jealous when girls take away the boy’s attention; closest friend he ever had as they were alone together but Herbert knew he could never act on it so he kept those feelings to himself

he wants sex but only from someone he’s emotionally connected with which itself is rare and at the same time intellectually he considers sex to be debasing, while also being curious about the sensation and knowing the benefits of the chemicals produced during orgasm

this is coupled with the fact that at least before starting T any thought of sex or masturbation made him extremely dysphoric and repulsed so his whole relationship with sex is very complicated

he is deeply repulsed by femininity bc it reminds him of his childhood spend as his agab and the stupid gender norms his parents thrust upon him including dismissing him being a scientist just because he had the wrong parts

he is canonically annoyed by pretty much all sounds and I suspect higher pitched sounds including women’s voices are worse; lower register sounds like thunder and men’s voices can be calming to him

upon moving from Canada to the U.S. as a student at NYU he used his new name on everything and making a clean break from his old identity was a big reason why he picked a different country to study in

hated NYU and the only good thing was it was easy to synthesize testosterone

T made him so fucking horny and also eviscerated his dysphoria; man was cranking it fucking constantly for a year straight and did some of his best work before moving to Switzerland for 3 years

Dr Gruber immediately figured out what his deal was but didn’t say anything and just treated him normal and for that Herbert was extremely devoted to him; Dr Gruber also did his top surgery in Switzerland despite having never done such an operation before

Dr Gruber was the one and only member of his support system the only person who knew everything about him and understood him and accepted him, losing him was a devastating blow and Herbert decided he would keep himself closed off

Also Dr Gruber didn’t have anyone either and adored Herbert and according to the book fucking left Herbert his money when he died which paid for his tuition and moving costs etc

if I didn’t genuinely like the father/son dynamic they have, I would absolutely say he was fucking that old man

So he was cool and clipped to Dan when he first met him and when he moved in trying to keep Dan at arm’s length away but he saw how smart and hardworking Dan was and he knew how difficult it was to conduct this research alone and he desperately wanted the company

and Dan reminded him a lot of the first boy he ever had a crush on and it would give him a certain satisfaction to vicariously have his first crush through Dan yet also knowing that Dan is way better than the idiot teen boy he was in the foster home with who never gave him the time of day; he’s also pleased with the idea of dragging Dan (normal, supposedly heterosexual, law-abiding) down with him; he’s pulling the brightest kindest handsomest hardest working med student out of Miskatonic into his orbit and making Dan’s life revolve around him

literally “look at the bad bitch I pulled by being a little freak” absolute nightmare Herbert West takes personal pleasure in ruining sweaterboy Daniel Cain’s life

the chaos of everything they do is so much more important that when Dan finds out Herbert is trans and gay it doesn’t even phase him.

(Daniel Cain is bisexual and basically decided it was just easier to be pretend to be straight and get a girlfriend so he ignored his feelings for men. But now with Herbert he doesn’t have to.)

he is completely shocked by sex with Dan however despite knowing that Dan is experienced he was not prepared nor was Dan prepared for how awkward yet demanding the virginal Herbert West would be, yelling at him one moment before becoming cock stupid the next

[defilerwyrm]

May i ask how's the recovery process after gender affirming surgeries?

If you mean how's it going now: my last surgery was in 2022 so at this point I'm 100% healed up. I was SUPPOSED to get my implants in December 2023 but my insurance company has been fucking me over at every turn so that's still on hold.

If you mean how was it at the time:

Top surgery (2018) was pretty easy for me since I have a desk job. I stayed with family in town for the first 2 weeks, during which time I basically did nothing but sleep, wake up long enough to use the toilet, take a dry shower, eat something, take more pain meds, then go back to sleep. I had 4 weeks off work, so after that I was a little sore and still confined to button-down shirts because I couldn't raise my arms above shoulder level; then I went back to work and all was normal for the next month. But...

Because I am an unlucky son of a bitch, I had a rare complication: I developed a seroma that dehysced (i.e. a hole opened up along my suture line that leaked large amounts of greasy, bright orange fluid made up of lymph and blood), which was not painful at all but was absolutely disgusting and very alarming to experience—but not a medical emergency or anything, and was easily fixed with a revision surgery. I took another 2 (I think?) weeks off work and it's been fine ever since. The left side of my chest is a little funny but I don't really care, it was fully worth it. Please note that I did not have drains. If you have drains, you're even LESS likely to have this problem.

Hysterectomy (2019) was much the same: I slept through the first two weeks and spent the next 2 in a recliner with an ice pack on my lower belly, playing a lot of Stardew Valley and getting into Critical Role. I was lucky enough to live with a friend who loves cooking. I ate a lot of soup. The soreness wasn't that bad, but I have a policy of staying ahead of the pain by using timers for how often I should be taking them. The worst part of it was the pain meds, tbh, because I really don't like the way oxycodone makes me feel; at the same time, I'm grateful for that fact because it keeps me from forming a habit.

Phalloplasty etc (2021) was kinda rough to start. I had 3 months off work that time. Slept through the first 2 weeks as usual. But for the first 3 weeks total I had a suprapubic catheter in and man I fuckin' hate being cathed. I felt like I needed to pee at all times, even immediately after draining the cath bag. Awful. Learning to pee standing up was...let's just say I did a lot of laundry and cleaning, lol. This was made worse by the fact that I had two fistulae (holes that go through the urethra all the way to the outside)—like I said, I've got bad luck. One of them healed up all on its own, like most of them do. The other one required a revision 8 months later, which meant being cathed again for a while, SIGH. But back to post-op for phallo: I had physical therapy for my left arm to make sure I kept a good range of motion; I kept the graft bandaged with daily gentle cleanup, application of ointments, and rebandaging; and had to take dry showers for the first uhhhhh. 2 weeks at least, maybe 3 or 4? After I got the cath out, things were MUCH easier. I was just kinda vaguely tired and sore and spent most of my time lying down. My libido came back at the start of the 2nd month, which was frustrating af because it wasn't till the start of the 3rd month that I was healed up enough to do anything about it (but once I could, holy FUCK it was incredible).