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ghost-proofbaby · 4 months ago

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GHOOOST i saw your valentine blurb event and thought i’d drop in something! 🥹

24 hours eddie has been living in my mind rent free and i can’t help but feel like he’s the type to act tough and all that, but instantly melts into a gooey simpy lovesick puddle the second you call him “baby” ❤️ like yeah he likes to be called nicknames like ed or eds, but petnames??? he’s done for. just turns into a blushing blubbering mess. especially with the way he has repressed all his emotions for so long, it’s fun to kind of tease him and call him “handsome” “pretty boy” “baby boy” just to see him break his facade and just unapologetically be the golden retriever that he really is ❤️❤️❤️

i think my favorite thing about this vision is the way he would try to fight it so bad. hiding his face in your neck and blushing all terrible and gaaaaaaaahh. i hope this does it justice <3

warnings: fem!reader. reader is described to be wearing a dress, makeup, earrings, and heels. not edited. set in twenty four hours universe, after the story!

“Eddie!”

No answer.

“Eds!”

No answer.

“Edward Munson!”

Your patience is wearing thin as you finally pop on the back of the earring you had been struggling with. The studs weren’t even anything fancy, hardly worth all the time you’d just spent fighting with it, but you were determined to look nice.

Valentine’s Day. A day meant to be filled with blissful serenity and endless heart eyes, that was really only becoming the bane of your existence.

“I swear to God,” you mumble to yourself, huffing a bit as you try to clean up the mess you’ve made of the bathroom sink. Makeup everywhere, various pieces of jewelry scattered, your curling iron still warm on the edge of porcelain. You decide rather quickly it’s a mess to be dealt with later tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. “If he’s still fucking with that bike.”

The sharp clicks of your heels transform as you walk from tile to laminate-wood flooring, becoming a bit more dull and less obnoxious as you take the hallway by storm.

Next year, you’re telling Steve to go fuck himself if he tries to lure you and Eddie into another double date.

“Eddie, we only have thirty minutes until we nee-” you stress as you reach the end of the hall, cutting off entirely as you catch sight of the living room.

Of the living room, and your boyfriend.

“What is that?”

You think you might actually kill him.

“What?” Eddie doesn’t even look up at you, and you make a mental strike against him, “I told you, I’m working on the bi-”

“Yes,” you cut him off, taking a few harsh steps into the very crowded living room, “You were supposed to bring up a part of the bike. Why is the entire bike in our living room, Munson?”

You mean it – you’re going to kick his ass by the end of today.

His bike is propped up there, right in front of the TV, entirely blocking the pathway to the balcony. The bike that should be outside. The bike that certainly has God knows what all over the tires, and is sitting right on your rug you just bought for the living room.

Eddie stops his tinkering with whatever piece he’d removed from the bike to work on on the coffee table, abiding by your rule of having a towel down below it to avoid getting grease everywhere, “What do you mean?”

He’s playing dumb. And he probably thinks he looks cute as he does it, but no amount of fluttering lashes or boyish grins can soothe your irritation.

“You’re an idiot, but you’re not stupid,” you hiss as you cross the room and stand right in front of him, only seeing the crown of his head as he keeps his eyes dipped low in shame, “When did you… How did you…. When the fuck did you bring the bike up?”

You can hardly manage a fluent sentence as you look between Eddie and the bike, mind blown in the truest sense.

His voice is a mere murmur as he fiddles with one of his wrenches, flipping it over a few times before he answers, “While you were in the shower.”

“How?”

“The frat boys downstairs,” he rushes out in one breath, eyes still locked on the ground rather than you. “I, uh, paid a few of them to help me lug it up.”

You sigh heavily, throwing your head back before you move to the couch and dramatically throw yourself down with defeat, “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that, Munson?”

“You say that like it’s new news,” he says as he twists to finally look at you, eyebrow quirked and the shadow of his dimple making an appearance while he fights a smug smile, “I think you’d be more worried if I wasn’t being a pain in your ass.”

He’s right. It doesn’t slow the roll of your eyes, though.

“You know I love you, right?” you say, suddenly using a sickeningly sweet tone as you lean in closer to where he sits on the ground. His face falls a bit, confusion lacing his brows together, “But, baby, if you keep this up… I’m going to kick your ass.”

He should look a whole lot more scared than he currently does as you deliver the threat, but he entirely throws you off when he grins.

An ear splitting grin, spreading cheek from cheek, radiating with anything but trepidation. He lights up, posture perking up as he looks at you with soft eyes. It looks as though you might have told him you loved him for the first time all over again, as though you’ve just reminded him of how you wanted to spend your life with him rather than said you were going to kick his ass.

The fight and issue at hand is momentarily forgotten as he whispers, “What did you just call me?”

“What did I just call you?” you question incredulously, leaning back fully, wholly concerned now. Maybe you should call Steve and cancel the date, “I- I just threatened to kick your ass, and you’re making heart eyes at me, asking me what I just called you?”

You rewind a bit in your brain, going over the moment again, trying to figure out if you’d let something unusual slip. Deciphering any moment that might have pulled this reaction from him.

You come up empty. Nothing.

“Did you just…” he trails off, cheeks surely aching as they shine with a bit of natural blush, “Did you just call me baby?”

Oh. That.

You look about the room for a second, taking in this predicament you’d gotten yourself into, “Do you not want me to call you that? I just-”

“No!” he rushes to stop you before you can take it back, “I mean, it’s fine. That’s not the issue, I just-”

He cuts off, and you realize just how flustered he is.

Now you’re smiling, right along with him, “You like it?”

“Sort of,” he shrugs, going a bit shy on you now, “It… I mean, if you want to start calling me stuff like that, I don’t mind. It’s fine. It’s cool.”

“Baby,” you say in place of his name, so naturally, like honey. You’re leaning forward once more, entering his orbit as you softly tease, “You’re blushing.”

The words turn him even more scarlet, “Fuck off.”

“What?” it’s your turn to act innocent, rearranging yourself on the couch to be more comfortable, “I thought you said you liked it when I called you stuff like that-”

Eddie movies quickly from the floor, gathering himself up in record time that would have had him groaning in protest on any other occasion. You’ve hardly leaned an elbow back on the couch’s arm when he gets on top of you.

Even if he’s trying to stop you from all your taunting with his words, his kiss says otherwise.

It’s hot, heavy, desperate – like alarm bells might be ringing in his head and telling him to run to the nearest safety of your lips. You welcome him in, of course. Take his lips right between yours with an eagerness to match, forgetting all about the lipstick you’d just applied moments before. Thighs spreading to bring him home to you, arms quickly searching out solace of all the skin below his Deftones t-shirt. Straining biceps as he holds himself over you, squared shoulders as he balances to stay right where he belongs. His chest even heaves ever so slightly with little gasps between kisses, both your lungs needing air despite the magnetic protest between you two.

“God,” you gasp out during one of those short breaks, making him divert a kiss to the corner of your mouth instead, “If you’re gonna kiss me like this every time I call you baby, I should do it more often,” he grunts, and tries to reignite a kiss, probably just to shut you up. You don’t let him, turning a cheek and forcing his searching mouth to plant a peck there instead, laughing a little, “Maybe I should be sure to use the nickname during dinner with Steve, hm?”

“Don’t you dare,” he groans as his lips seek out your jaw and neck next, peppering kisses between words. For each syllable, there’s a smack of his lips against your skin.

You ponder back to the time before you saw this side of Eddie; before someone so soft, so caring, so affectionate existed for you. It’s hard to even recall all those times now with the puddle of a man hovering over you.

“No?” you hum, head thrown back, letting him have his way as your fingers toy with the band around his bun, “What about pretty boy instead?”

Another groan, vibrating against your skin.

“Or handsome?”

This time, he nips the sensitive spot below your ear with his teeth in response.

You gasp, half from the bite and half with faux enthusiasm, “Oh! I know! I’ll take one out of your books and call you sweetheart.”

He finally moans in annoyance, and you know it’s all an act as he faceplants into your chest. You can feel his smile, radiant as ever, muffled by your skin and dress.

“You’re such a pain in my ass,” his echo of your earlier words come out around the cotton neckline, “You know that?”

You ruffle the kinks of his curls at his scalp a little, giving a scratch for good measure, “Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know, handsome.”

The full weight of him falls along your body finally, and he has a boyish glint when he raises his head. Seeking hands find promise along your hips, bunching the fabric of your black dress up into his fists before he’s kissing you again.

A little less hot, a little less heavy, a little less desperate. Just as rewarding as before, though.

Somewhere between simply nice and deathly devoted, you two let your mouths explore at a leisure pace. His lips, the apples of his cheeks, the line of his jaw down to his chin – no space is left unkissed, and you finally notice the smear of red lipstick.

“Oh, shit,” you laugh out, not sounding the least bit sorry as you look at the fading marks left behind, “I got my lipstick all over you.”

When he lifts from the crook of your neck, you catch the stain feathering out around his own lips, a bit smeared along his chin, “And you. I dunno if we can go to dinner lookin’ like this, doll.”

You get it. His reaction to your slip of a pet name.

You have the same reaction as he does it to you, gut fluttering and chest buzzing with tenderness at the sentiments. It’s a simple thing, probably a bit cheesy and cringey to outsiders, but it works between the two of you. You like hearing him grant you the pleasure of a nickname, whether it be sweetheart or doll. You love the hidden devotion beneath the delivery, whether it be idiot or fool.

There’s always an unspoken my in the mix. A certain sense of belonging to him that you can’t really explain to others without being looked at as if you’ve grown a second head.

Why would you want to belong to another person, in any sense of the word?

The answer feels simple enough when you look up at your boy, covered and pretty in Maybelline’s “Ruby for Me”.

“You’re not getting out of this double date,” you whisper back, still toying with his hair, still looking up at him with all the love you’re capable of growing within this chest of yours. It’s a bit more than yesterday, that much you’re sure. Each day, he finds a way to push the limits just a bit more, make a little bit more room behind your ribs for all the affection you hold for him, “If I’m stuck in this impending disaster, so are you.”

He sighs, head slipping into the crook of your neck, “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“Me? Disappointed with you?” he gasps, breath hot on your skin still as he snuggles in a little closer, grips the soft fabric of your dress a little tighter, “Oh, never.”

“Oh, so you decide to sound sarcastic instead?” you’re fighting a grin, trying to find a reason to be mad at him again. Hell, you even glance at the motorcycle in your damn living room to reignite the smallest of sparks – nothing, “You wound me, pretty boy.”

“You’re all about stealing my lines tonight, I see,” he teases as he finally begins to peel himself away from you. He’s all soft – soft eyes, soft smile, soft cheeks, soft flush. Soft, soft, soft. “I guess if there’s no way to convince you to stay home instead of going to this stupid double date, we both gotta get cleaned up now.”

You adore him. If you could bottle up all that softness you’re witnessing with your own two eyes just for a rainy day, you would.

He starts to stand on his knees, moving to leave you entirely and take all that mellow delight away from you too soon, when you lock your heels against his lower back.

Wrapping your legs a little too tightly around his waist, you raise a brow, “You may not be able to convince me to stay home entirely, but… no one ever said you couldn’t convince me to be about, let’s say, ten minutes late.”

He tilts his head at you, eyes wide, “Only ten minutes?”

“Okay, you’ve twisted my arm. Let’s make it fifteen.”

He crashes back into you in an instant, both of you giggling in the process.

With the weight of your pretty boy between your hips, and the caress of his lips against your chest, you accidentally make it nearly thirty minutes late. You don’t really care – not when it comes to Eddie.

#ghost's stories #v-day party #beyond the hours #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #i love how in my mind these 2 remain so mean to each other but in an affectionate way #more soft moments but still so many moments of 'i swear i hate you so much'#all the feisty fire remains #also don't ask me the logistics of getting a motorcycle into a second floor apartment because i haven't a clue but i saw it in a tiktok

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akixxsstuff · 1 year ago

Text

Dating L would be like...

Death Note L Lawliet x gender neutral reader

(I'm aware that the picture says girlfriend but the gender of the reader is not specified in the fic. The pictures were also edited by me).

Fluff // One shot

Summary: L was more like a machine than a human, he was cold, calculated and a "no fun and games" type of person aside from the occasional sarcastic or dry humored comment. L never lost his composure and would repress any emotion he had as a intimidation tactic. He was blunt and wouldn't allow anything or anyone to dethrone him.

However around you, L wasn't quite that...

The task force had suspected you and L were a couple, but whenever anyone asked about it, L would quickly shut down the conversation and went back to his work, saying that it wasn't any of their business. You and L were a couple but he just wanted to keep things secretive and professional since doing otherwise made him feel vulnerable.

He couldn't let his suspect Light know how much you meant to him just in case he used it against him, plus it was just in L's nature to be serective.

However as soon the doors were closed and the task force was gone, he would be nuzzling into your shoulder, whining for attention. He would never stop clinging onto you until he got he's way because in his own words, "I'm also childish and don't like to lose".

Like today for instance:

"Not now Lolly, I've got an appointment to book", you said sighing while L continued kissing your neck and nibbling your ear from behind. "I love you but I do not appreciate your lack of cooperation" L then grumbled.

Lolly was your main pet name for L since it sounded like it was short for lollipop, (and we all know how much L loves those) and sounded similar to his real name, Lawliet. Panda was also another common one since he reminded you of one with his dark eyes and pale skin.

He then kneeled in between your legs with his head resting on your thigh, looking up at you in annoyance in an attempt to guilt trip you, (however he couldn't mask he's pleading eyes). "Lolly I already told you I'm busy, just 10 more minutes okay my love?" you cooed while stroking his cheek. But L didn't care, he picked you up bridal style from your chair and tossed you onto the bed. "Lawliet, you should know of all people how important it is to not have any distractions from your work" you said rasing an eyebrow. "You make a fair point" L says with his thumb on his lip, "But I'm not feeling very empathetic tonight" then he proceeded to smother you with kisses.

Your dates were either cafe hopping, picnics in the park, or L trying to teach you tennis. You would always try to get him to wear shoes but he would refuse, saying "I don't like how they feel". "I know but I don't want you to step on a piece of glass and hurt yourself" you would say while kissing his forehead. "I will live" L would reply while blushing from your kiss. You would then sigh and take off your shoes, "Fine, if that's how you want to play" and you both would walk around barefoot.

Another thing L wouldn't budge on is removing all the cameras and wiring taps from your room, if someone broke in and tired to hurt you he needed to know immediately who was responsible so he could toss them in jail forever. He valued your life way more than his, afterall, he did challenge Kira to kill him live on broadcast.

L absolutely loved when you taunted his number one suspect Light, in fact it was his love language.

"I'm not Kira!" Light would yell.

"You're not a very convincing actor Light, but hey! Maybe they'll give you an academy award in prison just for trying. Light Yagami! Mass murderer tries playing innocent victim!".

As a detective, L would always be analysising people's behaviour and you were no expectation.

"How was your day darling?" L cooed.

"Fine. I'm going to my room".

You say that you're fine Y/N yet you're tone and lack of physical affection would indicate otherwise. Could you be trying to deprive me of your attention as an indirect punishment? What could have I done?

However, you did mention how your work load has increased because of the lack of empyoees, were you stressed from that and simply avoided me to avoid talking about it? I should confront you instead of making any assumptions, it could make matters worse because you might believe that I am deliberately ignoring you.

"Love, I believe I have done something to upset you, please tell me what it is was so I can correct my behaviour. Will you accept this piece of cake as a initial peace offering? If I'm not to blame then please tell me who's bothering you so I can potentially sue them".

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year-of-whump-tropes · 6 months ago

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#weekly poll #emotion removal/repression

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o-sunny-day · 8 months ago

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SCROLL FOR @forgettable-au ANGST :D

ok so ((WAILS LOUDLY))

WE KNOW HOW THIS GOES *breaks knuckles* ITS TIME TO TEAR APART MY ART BECAUSE PASSION

trust me, im a proFESSIONAL yapper at this point

This whole thing takes place within my own headcanon that “The Quiche Room” was one of many of Sans and Wingdings’ little hangout spots. They also really liked the echo flower there (maybe they planted it themselves-) Maybe thats why Papyrus is so unnerved and disturbed by echo flowers now…

Notice, the echo flower grows as they grow!

Oh yeah! I had fun drawing them grown in their kid outfits for 2. Wingdings can finally see his ankles

2 is also sorta a reference to my Radio Star comic, same stuff they did as kids, Wingdings working and Sans assisting, They haven’t changed too much yet. haven’t gotten the lab job. yet.

in 3, this is after they get the job at the lab and Wingdings realizes its a great place for supporting his unhealthy habits of seclusion and emotional repression. The echo flower is repeating something Wingdings said a while ago. I dont know what- fill in your own angst I suppose (I cant do EVERYTHING around here)

in 1 and 2, the light sources… are each other. Sans n Wd. Theyre each others lights. Each others stars (cries loudly and noticeably) but then for 3, the only light source is the echo flower. Yknow. The echo flower. with wingdings’ voice

4 is how the quiche room looks in the game 👍 Dunno whats sadder… Wingdings’ voice being removed because he’s in the void now, or because someone just talked over it without a second thought.

Oh yeah, and its empty because Sans and Papyrus don’t remember that ever being a place they hung out.

Yeah.

Yeah, im crying too. Its okay, let it out.

SANS AND GASTER SANS AND GASTER SANS AND GASTER (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE) I need them to interact i’m gonna have an aneurism.

THIS PART IS GETTING ITS OWN SECTION BECAUSE CMON MAN, ITS SANS AND GASTER

It was said in this post that Sans knows he was involved in whatever accident Gaster had, that had MAJOR consequences, and made everything and everyone different.

That makes me wonder, does Sans feel any guilt?? like subconsciously or not, he knows he was involved, so does he suspect he could have done something to stop it, or did something bad, and he was at fault in some way?

I DONT THINK HE WAS

so in 5, Sans is asking “what happened.”

What happened to him, why is everything like this, was it his fault? what did he do? what did he NOT do???

And Gaster just replies “Nothing that wasn’t my own fault.”

OK THATS ENOUGH. WHITEBOARD DOODLES, ATTACK!!!!

also- I PROMISE IM WORKING ON THE DTIYS 😭😭😭 IVE GOT IDEAS IDK HOW TO EXECUTE EM

Heres a thing I made/am working on(???) that was inspired by the dtiys though :3

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suliigwp · 4 days ago

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BUON FUCKING GIORNO

You said you wanted to hear from me again??? Well here I am!! 1: LOVE your Mirrored hearts series it’s 😗🤌🏾😘💋MWAH chef kiss. 2: I’ve had in idea for a SMAU with Kimi Antonelli x best friend!reader… like reader is studying engineering and her dream is to get in Ferrari but Kimi is trying to get her to shift from Ferrari to Mercedes to have her close,(and because of his repressed feelings). Lest throw in Mercedes socials admin being a menace, reader kinda crashing out on her finsta bc she thinks that Kimi doesn’t like her back and in the end best friends to lovers bc why not. Do you see the vision??? Feel free to ad your ✨touch✨ to it. I’ll let you cook…

XoXo from Italy,

-🐢 anon

Engineered to love

Kimi Antonelli x Engineer!Reader | SMAU + Written | angst + fluff

SULI: hiiiiii 🐢anon! Oh it is so lovely to hear from you! Thank you for your kind words🫶 hope you enjoy this and thank you for requesting🫶 and yes, I'll wait to hear from you again tehe— I did have to add written part because I just Have to make it angsty — sorry this took this long😭

SUMMERY: Kimis ways of trying to get his best friend to join Mercedes puts a crack in their friendship

Warnings: none

yourusername

📍Maranello, Italy

Liked by kimi.antonelli, Ferrari, yourmom and 12k others.

yourusername got the call. I’m going to Ferrari.

I look grumpy in this because they dragged me away from the data screens mid-run and handed me snacks like that was supposed to help.

I was seven. I already knew what I wanted.

thank you to every version of me that kept going.

(and yes, I still snack like this before debriefs.)

comments:

kimi.antonelli: you’re not even in the factory yet and already giving ted talk captions huh

♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: let me have my moment you bitter future world champion

mercedesamgf1: still time to change your mind 🤍

->yourusername: this feels like emotional tampering

f1paddocktalk: not the data prodigy origin story 😭😭

->yourusername: born to overanalyze throttle maps

kimi.antonelli: you were annoying even then

♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: and you’ve never known peace

...

yourusername

Liked by kimi.antonelli, charles_leclerc, ferrarif1 and 16k others.

yourusername 12-year-old me would be crying.

Got to spend the week at the Ferrari Innovation Campus in Maranello — got my hands on real aero data, shadowed the team on a test day, and cried twice in a supply closet. No shame. This is the dream. This is my dream.

I know it’s just a visit. But some places feel like home even when you’re just passing through.

comments:

kimi.antonelli: you cried twice?? and didn’t text me?? ♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: you would’ve made fun of me and I was emotionally vulnerable

->kimi.antonelli: I would’ve said “come to Mercedes” and then driven to get you gelato

->yourusername: See. Exactly.

mercedesamgf1: Okay but. Like. What if we gave you access to our wind tunnel too. For... reasons. 👀

charles_leclerc: it was amazing meeting you❤️ I felt like the dumbest person in a good way🤣

♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: charlie🫶

ferrarif1: Real recognize real. You’re always welcome, ragazza rossa ❤️ ♥️ Liked by Author

->kimi.antonelli: delete this please

f1gossipqueen: is it just me or is @/kimi.antonelli fighting a silent war in this comment section

->yourusername: 😐

...

mercedesamgf1

Liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli, susiewolff and 1.4M others.

mercedesamgf1: Kimis favorites around the paddock🩶 Working with our data girl🩶

Even if she refuses to wear silver. 🙄

comments:

kimi.antonelli: remove slide 4 before she kills me

♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: I am going to kill you

->kimi.antonelli: worth it

yourusername: “DATA GIRL.” do you even respect me as an academic

♥️ Liked by Author

->mercedesamgf1: actually we’re printing that on mugs 😇

ferrarif1: shouldn’t she be in Maranello right now? 🧍‍♂️

->kimi.antonelli: she’s exactly where I want her to be

f1teaofficial: PLS the comments are giving “pining Italian boy who doesn’t know how to say I love you”

->yourusername: I AM RIGHT HERE

->mercedesamgf1: and yet not in silver 😔

...

It was almost one in the morning when you finally stepped outside the simulator building, exhausted and overstimulated and still buzzing with the kind of clarity that only came with too much data and too little sleep. The air was sharp, biting, the chill wrapping around your arms like a warning. You sat on the edge of the stone bench outside, staring at the quiet Mercedes campus, his jacket in your lap but not on your shoulders.

Kimi was already out there, elbows on his knees, fingers locked together. He hadn't said a word when you sat down.

You didn’t either. Not at first.

And then—

"You looked good at the Innovation Center," he said suddenly, voice rough from silence.

You blinked. "Is that a compliment or the start of a complaint?"

"I don’t know," he muttered. "Both, maybe."

He finally turned his head toward you, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize something he already knew too well. "You looked like you belonged there. I hated it."

You laughed, a dry little sound, burying the ache it caused. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific, Antonelli."

He leaned back, stared up at the sky like it might help him find the words he couldn’t say directly to your face. "I want you to come to Mercedes."

You let the words hang. You’d known this was coming. Still, it made something twist in your chest.

"No shit," you said lightly, but your voice cracked right at the end.

"I’m serious."

"So am I."

He looked at you this time, really looked — like he was hoping you'd already said yes and he just hadn’t heard it yet.

You exhaled. "Kimi… I’ve worked for this my whole life. Ferrari has always been the dream. Every class, every project, every scholarship I wrote about them. I grew up with posters of the SF70H above my bed. I applied to Maranello before I even finished my thesis. It’s not just some internship, it’s—"

"—your oxygen," he finished quietly. "I know."

You nodded. "And now you’re asking me to give it up?"

"I’m not asking," he said, voice low. "I’m just… hoping."

You went still. The bench felt colder beneath you.

He kept going. "I want you here. Where I can see you. Where you don’t fade into someone else's legacy. You could build your own here. You should.

"And you think I can’t do that at Ferrari?" you challenged, eyes sharp.

"I think they'll let you in, yeah. I think they'll love having you around. I also think they’ll keep you in a box and smile while they do it. And I think… I think you won’t even notice, because you’ve wanted it too long to question it now."

Silence stretched. The wind blew your hair into your face. You didn’t move.

"That’s not fair," you said finally, almost a whisper. "You don’t get to weaponize the fact that you know me like that."

"I'm not trying to weaponize anything," Kimi said, quiet but firm. "I’m just telling you how I see it. And maybe…" He swallowed, looked down at his hands. "Maybe I want you close because I don’t trust myself not to fall apart if you go."

You froze.

There it was. Not dressed up. Not disguised as concern. Not even veiled in professionalism. Just raw, stupid honesty in the middle of a cold night.

You looked away, blinking fast. "So this is about you?"

"No," he said, and this time his voice broke a little. "It’s about us. If that still exists."

Your throat felt tight. "Don’t say that unless you mean it."

He didn’t look away.

"I mean it," he said. "I just don’t know what I’m allowed to want anymore."

You stood up too fast. The jacket fell to the ground.

Kimi didn’t move.

You stared at him like you were trying to convince yourself he was still the boy you grew up with. The one who used to cheer from the karting fences. The one who used to fix your helmet strap like it was sacred. The one who never once made you question what side he was on.

Now?

He felt like the very thing pulling you off-track.

“You’ve been waiting for me to break,” you said, voice trembling despite everything in you willing it not to. “Every time I talk about Ferrari, you get quiet. You make comments. You guilt me.”

“I never—” he started.

“No. Don’t lie,” you cut him off, sharp. “You don’t say it directly because that would make you the bad guy. But you drop hints. You say things like ‘Mercedes would treat you better’ and ‘you shouldn’t be someone else’s legacy.’ Like it’s concern. But it’s not. It’s control.”

He flinched.

You didn’t care.

“You don’t actually believe in me,” you continued. “You believe in me if I choose you. If I orbit your world. But the second I try to build something that doesn’t include you, suddenly it’s wrong. Suddenly I’m throwing everything away.”

Kimi stepped toward you, voice low and tight. “You really think I don’t believe in you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“You think I’ve spent the last ten years fighting for you, dragging you into every room you deserved to be in, defending you to people who didn’t even see you—just so I could control you?”

“Then what is this?” you snapped. “What is this choice you’re making me make?”

“I’m not making you do anything—”

“You’re making me feel like I’m betraying you by chasing the dream I had before you ever came into the picture!”

That shut him up.

And it made something in your chest break.

You lowered your voice, finally—like your anger had burned through and left nothing but ash behind.

“I loved Ferrari before I even knew your name. And now I can’t even think about taking the internship without wondering if I’m about to lose you.”

Kimi looked at you. Really looked.

“I didn’t mean to do that to you,” he said quietly.

“But you did,” you replied. “And I don’t know if I can forgive you for it.”

He took one step closer. "So that’s it?"

You shrugged. "I don’t know. Is it?"

He stared at you.

You had spent years imagining this moment. The one where you got the call from Ferrari. The one where it all paid off. The one where you'd finally be living the dream you bled for.

You never thought Kimi Antonelli would be the one making it feel like a betrayal.

The silence was suffocating.

And then he said it.

Quiet. Cold. Final.

"Then go."

Like you were some passing thought. Like everything you'd built together—friendship, trust, whatever the hell this almost-love thing was—meant nothing.

Your body locked for a second. Not from shock, but from the sharp heat that flared beneath your skin.

Then you let out a breathless, bitter laugh. “Right,” you muttered. “Of course. That’s what you do, isn’t it? You push people out the second they stop orbiting you.”

Kimi flinched—but didn’t speak.

Didn’t deny it.

Didn’t follow you.

So you stepped back.

You turned on your heel with more force than necessary—your footsteps loud against the concrete, your spine stiff with fury.

And as you walked away, your voice snapped through the air like a whip:

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to see me fade into someone else’s legacy. You won’t see me at all.”

And then you were gone.

You didn’t look back.

Not once.

And Kimi?

He stood there. Silent. Still.

Not brave enough to stop you.

Not strong enough to admit he wanted to.

And he would regret that for a very, very long time.

...

They were twelve.

The heat was brutal. The kind that clung to your neck and made your fireproof suit stick to your skin, sweat pooling in your gloves and boots. You were sitting on the edge of the pit wall, legs swinging, fingers clenched around a half-melted paper cup of water someone shoved in your hands after the last heat.

Your helmet sat beside you on the concrete. Scuffed. Too big. Still humming with the leftover echo of your own breathing.

You stared at the track like it had betrayed you.

Twelfth.

You came twelfth.

Not because the kart wasn’t good enough. Not because you weren’t fast.

Because you locked up on Turn 4—went wide, didn’t recover, and lost everything in three stupid seconds.

You blinked hard. The sting behind your eyes was building fast, like heat rising in an engine. You hated crying. Especially in front of him.

Kimi sat next to you. Quiet. Always quiet, but especially after races. You’d learned by now not to expect much talking from him unless he had something to say. He wasn’t like the other kids, didn’t brag or scream or throw tantrums. He just sat there, knees bent, fingers picking at the Velcro on his gloves.

You were halfway through convincing yourself to go cry in the bathroom when he spoke.

Soft. Like he’d been thinking it for a while.

“You’re gonna change F1 one day.”

Your head whipped toward him. “What?”

He didn’t look at you. Still staring at the track, like he was seeing a version of it you couldn’t yet.

“You’re gonna change everything,” he said again, firmer now.

You scoffed. “I just came twelfth.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You furrowed your brow. “It does a little.”

He finally turned to you.

“No, it doesn’t. Not really. You made one mistake. That’s not the point.”

You didn’t respond. Just looked at him like he was speaking another language.

Kimi sighed and leaned back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him.

There was a cut on his elbow and dust on his collar. He looked like a kid who belonged in this world — someone built for it. Born into it.

“You see things the rest of us don’t. That turn? Everyone else just takes it. You overthought it. You were already trying to correct the line before you even locked up. I watched.”

You blinked.

He kept going, voice picking up like he finally had something to say.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever seen go straight from the kart to the telemetry screen without even taking your gloves off. You ask better questions than half the mechanics. You feel things in the setup before the data even shows it.”

You looked down, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You think it’s about winning. And it is, kind of. But it’s more than that. You’re not just fast. You’re smart. And that’s the part no one trains for.”

You swallowed hard. The paper cup in your hands crumpled slightly.

Then came the part you’d remember forever.

He sat forward again, elbows on his knees, and looked at you — straight on.

No jokes. No sarcasm. Just quiet, unshakable belief.

“You’re gonna fix cars better than half the engineers on the grid. You’re gonna read data better than the guys on the pit wall. You’re gonna build things they haven’t even thought of yet. And yeah, you’re gonna piss off a lot of people by doing it better than them.”

He shrugged, like it was obvious.

“You’re gonna change everything. I just know it.”

The air felt too heavy in your lungs.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

You just looked at him — the boy with dirt on his face and grease on his fingers — and something clicked.

For the first time that day, you didn’t feel like crying.

You’re in Maranello.

Ferrari ID badge hanging from your neck. Data sheets in your inbox. Everyone’s shaking your hand, telling you they’ve “heard so much.”

You should feel proud. Triumphant. Fulfilled.

But all you can hear is a twelve-year-old boy’s voice echoing in your head.

“You’re gonna change everything.”

And all you can think is:

He believed in you before you believed in yourself.

And now he won’t even look you in the eye.

...

kimi.antonelli

📍Barcelona, Spain

Liked by mercedessamgf1, georgerussell63, lando and 52k others.

kimi.antonelli clean weekend. good vibes. grateful. thanks to everyone who made it feel like home out here 🤍

Comments:

landonorris: and yet I still beat you at padel

♥️ Liked by Author

mercedesamgf1: the sunset pic??? ok moodboard king

f1gossipgirl: Not @/yourusername being dead silent?? hello?? 😭

georgerussell63: amazing weekend mate✊

♥️ Liked by Author

f1updatesonly: wait has she not liked any of his posts since the Ferrari announcement…

pitlaneprincess: used to be top commenter. this is actually so sad now 💔

georgiaracegirl17: idk if y’all are still besties but she made you feel real in posts like this.

...

landonorris

📍Miami

Liked by zacbrown, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 1M others.

landonorris good food mid chaos 🧡

Comments.

f1gossipgirl: okay wait where’s @/yourusername???

pitlaneprincess: she hasn’t posted since Kimi’s “clean weekend” post 😭

mercedesamgf1: can neither confirm nor deny our collective heartbreak

scuderiaferrari: she’s working. y’all should try it sometime. Liked by kimi.antonelli

...

PRIVATE GROUP CHAT — “grid therapy (unpaid)”

@/landooooooo: Kimi’s still asking where you are. This is hilarious.

@/dying.in.data:

he told me to go. I went. case closed.

@/notcharleslol: not closed.

you still post about him at 2am in Helvetica italics with blackout captions like we can't tell.

@/teamradiotrauma63: she soft launched heartbreak like it was a firmware update

@/carmen.in.crisis: she hasn’t posted a selfie with eye contact since the argument. I’m scared.

@/gossipgasly: she posted a photo of his helmet on her Pinterest board and captioned it “whatever.”

girl be serious.

@/dying.in.data:

I didn’t think you’d notice that

also shut up

...

…Then Kimi Antonelli finally cracks.

...

@/dying.in.data:

Guys...

There's a note with it

It says "I'm sorry <|3"

@/landooooooo: okay wait that’s actually really soft????

@/notcharleslol: he’s annoying and I still want you to kiss him

@/carmen.in.crisis: this is literally the boy version of “it was always you”

I’m crying at my desk

@/dying.in.data:

I miss him

@/teamradiotrauma63: girl go get your man?!?!

@/dying.in.data:

He's not my man

He doesn't feel that way about me

@/gossipgasly: denial is a river in Egypt

...

It was late.

The paddock was mostly empty. Media had cleared out. The lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting long shadows against the concrete.

You were leaning against the pit wall, arms crossed, jacket zipped up to your chin. You weren’t supposed to be there — you’d finished your analysis hours ago — but your badge still worked, and the silence felt cleaner than whatever mess was still clinging to your chest.

Behind you, soft footsteps approached. Then stopped.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him.

He didn’t speak at first.

Neither did you.

Until—

“You still won’t look at me.”

Your jaw tightened. “And you still think everything deserves to be forgiven just because you finally show up.”

A pause.

Kimi stepped beside you, leaned on the wall without touching you. Just close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

“I don’t want forgiveness,” he said quietly. “I want to stop pretending like we’re strangers.”

You stayed quiet. Let that sit.

“You made me question myself,” you whispered. “You made me feel like chasing my dream meant losing you.”

He didn’t flinch this time. Maybe he’d rehearsed this.

“I never wanted you to give it up,” he said. “I just… I didn’t know how to ask you to stay without sounding selfish.”

“So you chose silence?”

“I chose wrong.”

The words were simple. Honest. You hated how much they cracked something in you.

You turned toward him, finally, and the look on your face stopped him mid-breath.

“I’m still not sorry I went,” you said.

“Good,” he replied. “You shouldn’t be.”

You held each other’s gaze.

Years of friendship. Months of tension. One moment of sharp clarity.

“We don’t fit neatly into each other’s worlds, Kimi,” you said.

“No,” he agreed. “But maybe we can stop trying to fit, and just find a way.”

You looked at him. Not as a teammate. Not as a boy who let you down. But as someone who had always, in some fractured way, loved you—even when he didn’t know how to show it.

You nodded once.

“Okay.”

Not a promise.

Not a fix.

But a beginning.

He smiled, soft and crooked. “Still team red?”

You smiled back. “Still team red.”

Then he pulled the snack you liked from his jacket pocket and handed it to you without a word.

You laughed. Took it.

And for the first time in weeks, it didn’t hurt to be near him.

But you didn’t move away either.

Didn’t look at him.

Not yet.

You stared at the wrapper in your hand. Familiar. Stupid. Intimate.

“I got your box,” you said, voice low.

He looked over, surprised — not because you said it, but because you finally did.

> “Yeah?” he asked. Like it had been sitting heavy in him, too.

You nodded, slowly. Eyes still on the ground.

“I didn’t open it all the way at first,” you admitted. “Just enough to know it’d make me feel worse.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

You paused.

“But it did anyway. Because it was… you. And it was thoughtful. And I was mad at you. And I didn’t want to be grateful while still being hurt.”

The silence between you stretched again. But this one wasn’t sharp. It was soft. Worn-in. Like grief finally finding somewhere to land.

You finally looked at him.

“So… thank you. For sending it anyway. Even when I didn’t deserve nice things from you.”

Kimi’s mouth twitched — not quite a smile. Not quite a wince either.

“You always deserved them,” he said. “Even when you hated me.”

You blinked once, throat tight.

“I never hated you,” you said. “I just didn’t know how to stop being disappointed.”

He nodded. “I know."

You turned away then, just a little — enough to hide the glassy edge in your eyes. You tucked the wrapper into your jacket pocket like it was something fragile.

“It meant something. The box,” you added, quieter now. “It really meant something.”

“So did the silence after,” he said.

You looked at him again — wide, startled.

He shrugged, like it didn’t destroy him to say it.

Like maybe it already had.

“But… this? This right now?” he said. “It means more.”

This time, you didn’t say anything. Just nodded.

And when you finally walked away, he didn’t follow — but he didn’t feel left behind, either.

...

@/teamradiotrauma63: saw you two talking

What did he say?

Anything 👀👀👀

@/dying.in.data:

Nothing?

We just talked the fight out

@/teamradiotrauma63: tell me you're shitting me

...

@/georgerussell63: I need to have a word with you

@/kimi.antonelli:

???

...

It was quiet in the garage long after the debrief ended. The engineers were gone. The screens dimmed. Just the low hum of lights and the kind of silence that makes people say things they probably shouldn’t.

Kimi was still sitting at the desk, tapping a pen against a telemetry sheet he wasn’t reading.

George leaned against the wall behind him, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“You’re actually unbelievable,” he said suddenly.

Kimi didn’t look up. “Good to see you too.”

George pushed off the wall and came closer. “She’s in the same paddock as you. You get the chance to talk to her every weekend. And you just… don’t?”

Kimi finally glanced up. “It’s complicated.”

George scoffed. “No, it’s not. You like her. She likes you. You both look like kicked puppies around each other. What’s complicated?”

Kimi’s voice was low. “We said things.”

“So say better ones now.” George’s tone was sharper than usual. “You think you’re protecting her by staying silent? You’re not. You’re just making her feel like she was wrong. Like she made it up. Like you didn’t care.”

“I do care,” Kimi muttered.

“Then act like it.”

Kimi went quiet again, fingers tightening around the pen.

George ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick here—actually, no, I am. Because I’m sick of watching this play out like a bad movie.”

Kimi exhaled slowly. “She’s at Ferrari. She’s doing what she always wanted. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

George stepped closer. “You think you’re not already in the way? She’s hurting. She doesn’t say it, but she is. You’re hurting. And instead of doing something, you’re sitting here playing noble idiot.”

Kimi’s jaw clenched. “It wasn’t the right time.”

“It’s never going to be the perfect time,” George snapped. “There’s always going to be pressure, always going to be something. But the right people? You don’t let them slip just because the timing’s a bit shit.”

Kimi didn’t say anything, but something in his face shifted. Something like guilt. Or maybe realization.

George took a deep breath and said, softer this time, “She doesn’t need grand gestures. She just needs to hear it. From you. Not from the box. Not from Lando. Not from some story you think tells her everything. She needs to hear it.”

Kimi blinked. “And if she doesn’t feel the same anymore?”

George gave him a look. “Then at least you’ll know. But right now? You’re punishing both of you for being afraid.”

Kimi stared at the telemetry sheet like it held an answer he hadn’t considered yet.

George grabbed his jacket. “Tell her before someone else does.”

Then he walked out, leaving Kimi in the low hum of silence.

...

@/teamradiotrauma63: I swear I am a driver not a therapist

...

He found you in the back paddock lot, standing by the railing. It was quiet, late. You didn’t look surprised to see him.

You just crossed your arms and said, “Took you long enough.”

Kimi stopped in front of you, eyes tired. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

“That’s not your call to make.”

He nodded. Fair.

You sighed. “Why are you here, Kimi?”

“I need to say something. Actually say it. Not send a box. Not drop a hint. Just—say it.”

You looked at him. “Then say it.”

He took a breath, steadying himself.

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And I was too scared to say anything because I thought it would ruin what we had. And then I let you walk away without fighting for you, and that’s on me.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at him, trying to figure out if he meant it this time. If he really understood what it cost you.

“I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to pick me over Ferrari,” he continued. “I didn’t want to be that guy.”

“You didn’t make me choose,” you said. “You didn’t make me feel anything. You said nothing. That’s what hurt the most.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “I thought I was protecting you. Turns out I was just pushing you away.”

You looked down at your hands. “You hurt me, Kimi. Not because you didn’t like me. But because you didn’t trust me with it.”

“I do now,” he said. “I want to fix it. If you’ll let me.”

You looked up at him, straight in the eye. “I don’t need perfect. I just need honest.”

“This is me being honest,” he said. “I missed you. Every day. I hated not talking to you. I hated wondering if I ruined it forever.”

Your voice was quieter now. “I missed you too.”

Neither of you moved for a second.

Then, slowly, you stepped in and wrapped your arms around him.

He didn’t hesitate. Just pulled you in tight, like he’d been waiting for it since the second you left.

It was everything.

...

yourusername

Liked by georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, f1 and 1M others.

yourusername: do NOT ask. yes we yelled. yes we’re fine 🩶❤️

Comments:

kimi.antonelli: you forgot “yes, he was wrong”

lando: finally i can breathe again

charles_leclerc: no bc what was i supposed to do during the silent treatment?? babysit BOTH of you??

georgerussell63: i literally fixed this you’re welcome

mercedesamgf1: nothing to see here. just excellent cross-team collaboration 😌

scuderiaferrari: we’ll allow it. for now.

carlossainz55: who had ‘public truce photo’ on their bingo card?

alex_albon: does this mean she’s back on main? the finsta was scaring me

...

kimi.antonelli

Liked by mercedesamgf1, maxverstappen1, yourusername and 3M others.

kimi.antonelli: anyway. i’m fine now.

Comments:

lando: NAUGHTY. BOY.

yourusername: you did not just post the last pic i will literally cut your brakes

->kimi.antonelli: amore😉

charles_leclerc: oh he’s IN it

iamrebeccad: babies😍

user17: THE POST-ARGUMENT GLOW IS CRAZY

georgerussell63: was this pr approved?

->georgerussell63: forget it I know the answer

user55: KIMI WHAT IS THIS

pierregasly: HELLO???!!??!!

carlossainz55: happy for you. scared of her.

alex_albon: “i’m fine now” as in whipped beyond repair? yes we see that.

mercedesamgf1: posting like it’s a 2014 indie romance. proud of you, king.

scuderiaferrari: someone’s getting a strongly worded email about the driver lounge keycard

user12: he's a freak like us

Taglist, comment to be added; @angstynasty @cryinghotmess @mits-vi @dramaticpiratellamas @mimisweetz @mrssaturday @chiara8104 @moonlight-girls-posts @linnygirl09 @rue-t @danielricroll @the-vex-archives @trees-are-books @blodwyn4u @yoruse @ccrickett-t @l-a-u-r-aaa @multifans-things @woderfulkawaii @azrinableuet @mayax2o07 @everyday-is-sunday365 @devilacot @faithxyu

make sure you can be tagged!

386 notes · View notes

fgojous · 2 months ago

Text

love wins all | chapter five ( satoru g. )

from childhood summers and petty high school banters, to the endless college lectures—med school and the chaos of residency, you've been through it all. you've built everything together. you're each other's home—everything. but what if your relationship breaks beyond repair? what if the one thing you couldn't save was each other? can your love still win it all?

neurosurgeon!gojo x trauma surgeon!reader

warnings. romance, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, hurt no comfort, fluff, medical au, established relationships, high school sweethearts, unresolved feelings, unresolved issues, grief, emotional repression, mutual pining, emotional trauma, childhood trauma, explicit sexual content | eighteen plus only!

chapter warnings. death, grief, marital problems, struggles with infertility, explicit smut (p in v, making out, public sex, handjobs, fingering, idk if this is all hahsahjas)

word count. 7.3k

masterlist.

note. hi... i wrote this for days because... this chapter hurts me so much :<

CHAPTER FIVE: I BET ON LOSING DOGS

─── SEPTEMBER, 2023 ───

“Nice work, everyone.”

That was the last thing you said before pushing the door open to the OR, peeling your gloves and gown in the process. Your feet dragged you to the sink to scrub out, your back hunched as you scrubbed off—there’s this familiar ache blooming in between your shoulders but you were used to it ever since med school.

It was not like you have a choice, you’ve been doing this since forever. Your job is tiring but you love it. It’s a love-hate relationship, really.

You walked out—removing your scrub cap, tugging your mask away and the sharp whiff of hospital antiseptic greeted your nose as you walk through the hallway—you cursed mentally because you remembered that you still have to do the post-op notes. God, can the time freeze for just an hour? You reached for your phone in the pocket as you walked towards the workroom checking if they had paged you or anything but one text caught your eye.

Satoru | 2:15 PM

The new interns are at OUR hang out place.

You | 2:19 PM

Because they’re interns lol they’re supposed to be there just like we were.

Satoru | 2:20 PM

Still. Annoying. I'm outside the ER. Please come and grace your husband with your presence.

A smile tugged on your lips as you walked through the elevators down to the emergency room—you’ll just go see him for a little while before starting on the notes. Just for a moment though because your husband could be so dramatic if he really wanted to.

The automatic doors hissed open as you walk through, you search for that white hair and you instinctively smile when you see your husband leaning on the wall just outside the emergency room—his hair a mess, mask pulled down on his chin while he’s sipping on his juice box—that’s been his hyperfixation these days, you don’t even know why.

He looked up, hearing your footsteps. A grin adorned his face as you stood beside him, “You’ve been working yourself so hard these days, the next thing you know you’re the chief of trauma surgery.”

“Ha-ha.” you say, reaching for his juice box to see what the fuss is about this drink—well, okay, it tastes really good for something that sits in a hospital vending machine. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be poking brains in there?”

He laughs, “Needed to take a break. And I’d like to annoy my wife.”

You snorted out a laugh, handing him his juice box back. “Well, congrats. You’ve done it.”

Both of you stayed like that for a while—backs leaned on the wall, looking at a distance. Just enjoying the solace of being together before going back to the intense reality of your jobs.

You took a deep breath—it was a mix of exhaustion but mostly relief that Satoru is right beside you even if you’re not saying anything. His presence is enough to make that dull ache in your shoulder and the cramping feeling in your legs dissipate into the air like sand thrown in the wind.

Satoru moved, circling his arms around your shoulder before pressing his cheek against the side of your head. “My poor wife, so tired.”

You chuckled, snaking your arms on his waist in return before leaning into him. “Yeah, well. It’s not like we can do something about it, huh?”

Satoru was so glad you said that.

Without a warning, he removed his arm from around you and pushed off the wall. Holding your wrist in his hand before dragging you back inside. “Come on.”

“Satoru,” you protested a bit, but your feet were following him anyway. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” you groaned, and you can see that you were heading for the elevator. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“It’ll be worth it to let you drag me around the hospital with my sore feet?”

He just gave you a sheepish smile and just brushed the hair stuck to your forehead as you both waited for the elevator. You pursed your lip because he isn’t really saying anything until you get there.

So, you followed him, through the hallways—then you both took a turn, your eyebrows raised as you read the signage just above the door.

Pediatric Wing.

“What are we doing here?”

He didn’t answer and just walked ahead of you, you huffed a breath before following him. You don’t even know what your husband has up his sleeve—

“Here.” his soft voice cuts through the fog in your brain, you look at him—a gentle smile on his lips.

You raised an eyebrow, “So, is this what you do?”

“Ssh. Watch.” he places his hand above your shoulder before turning you to the glass.

And there they were, a handful of newborn babies lined up in their hospital bassinet. Your heart warmed up instantly at the sight. You chuckle lightly watching the tiny hand raise into the air while yawning. Then another one bursted crying before the nurse soothed it.

You stood there in silence—basking in the glow of the tiny humans. This isn’t what you expected when Satoru dragged you around, but you’re glad he did. Because looking at their tiny little faces makes you forget that you’re exhausted.

“Suguru brought me here yesterday. Said this is what he does sometimes.” he says, almost whispering. “But it works, right?”

“This is crazy,” you say, chuckling. “They’re so small.”

“Yeah.” he places a hand on your shoulders, “And so cute.”

You both stood there with smiles on your faces, watching the babies squirm—or stirr, or whatever cute stuff they do.

“Hiii.” you whispered, waving your hand a little as if they’d understand you. You hear Satoru chuckling, you look at him—smiling as you scrunch your nose.

“I want one.”

“Tell me which one then I’ll put it in my pocket.”

“Satoru!” you swatted his arm lightly, and he laughed at your reaction—you just huffed, gazing back at the babies.

“But I’m serious,” you say quietly—your eyes hopeful, then your husband stops laughing, “I want one.”

He looked at you—really looked, and realized that you were serious. His gaze softens, “You do?”

You answered, without hesitations. “I do.”

You’ve always talked about having kids… someday, or in the future. But this was the first time that he’d seen that specific sparkle in your eyes—you weren’t joking, you weren’t teasing.

And it all felt surreal to him. He was still processing—you’ve thought about it, you didn’t throw it into the air like it was some silly idea.

“Yeah?” he asks again, this time his voice was softer, like he was making sure that he really heard you right.

“Yeah.” you nodded, still smiling at the babies.

Satoru lets out a breathless laugh, you feel his arms circle around your waist from behind, his chin propped above your shoulder. He whispers, “Okay.”

You leaned onto him, your hand brushing his arms that was wrapped around you.

“We’ll make it happen.”

And just like that, all of it seemed in place. Just the two of you, standing there seemed like a quiet promise that you were going to try. That you’re stepping into a new chapter in your lives—together.

He was right. There was something that you could do to make this exhaustion you’ve been feeling for years fade away.

And it was this moment, right here.

─── OCTOBER, 2023 ───

You’ve only been waiting for probably seconds but it felt like an hour. You were tapping your foot on the bathroom floor, waiting for the test line to appear.

You took a deep breath, bringing yourself down to the cold bathroom floor, so that you couldn’t see the test strip sitting on the counter. You press your knees to your chest, your fingers twitch slightly as you tap them over and over your legs.

You look at the timer on your phone and up at the counter—then at your phone again. You huffed a small breath from your nose, this is intense.

It’s just a test to see if you’re ovulating but why is your heart pounding so much?

Then the timer rings, a finger hovers over the stop button. You compose yourself before standing up.

You can’t look. You can’t look. You can’t—

It’s positive. Your eyes sparkle as you look at those two lines.

You stepped out of the bathroom—Satoru stirred, his eyes adjusting from the sunlight seeping through the windows. He looks at you, eyes half-opened, “Morning?”

“Morning!” you greeted, you climbed into bed with him—specifically, on top of him.

“What?” he asks, his voice groggy from sleep. “What happened?”

“I’m ovulating.” you say, with a smile. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss on his lips. His hands travelled across your back, fingers tracing your spine.

You pulled away, pressing your forehead against his. “You’re ovulating?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay.” he simply says before flipping you over in a swift motion, your back hits the mattress with a soft thump, you anchor your arms around his neck, giggling.

“Okay?” you let out a teasing smile, he looks at you, his messy hair falling carelessly on his forehead.

“Okay,” he repeats, fully awake—pressing soft kisses on your jaw, down to your neck, “Let’s do it.”

You laugh, a little breathlessly. Letting your hand wander to his bare back, down to the waistband of his boxers, tracing it with your fingers. “Hot.”

“I know. So hot.” he murmurs against your skin—he looks at your face, a grin etched on his lips before biting your lower lip.

You smile into his mouth, pulling him closer just so you could calm the butterflies in your stomach—the arousal creeping up on you along with this feeling of excitement and… hope.

Hope that you never let yourself feel too much.

─── NOVEMBER, 2023 ───

You heard a small ding! from your phone. Even if you didn’t reach for it you know what it meant.

It’s the last day of your ovulation.

You look at the watch—you have rounds to do, patients to check up on. And probably a new consult was coming.

You sighed, you couldn’t miss your window or you’ll have to wait again next month. But considering your job, you don’t have all the time in the world.

Then another sound popped out from your phone. You settled the chart down the counter and reached for the phone in your pocket.

Satoru | 9:47 PM

got time?

That was all it took before you’re pinned against the wall of the storage room, his tall stature looming over you while his lips are devouring you whole.

What? The on-call room is occupied.

Satoru’s hand travelled to your nape, pulling you closer. His tongue slips past your lips, swirling and sucking on your tongue. His other hand pushed past the waistband of your scrub pants.

Your heart was pounding—not just from the adrenaline or the thrill of doing it in the storage room where you’re surrounded by boxes of gloves, IV kits—but also by the way your husband is holding you.

You whimper into his mouth when his middle finger rubs your clit, you pull away—gasping, he kisses your neck, “Can you keep quiet for me, yeah?”

And before you could even formulate words, he was pushing two fingers in—scissoring his fingers before curling it up, “Mhm—Satoru!”

His hand travelled to your mouth, his dark eyes glisten under the dim light—like he’s warning you to stay quiet or you’ll get caught.

You gripped on his arm, while your other hand traveled down his pants, pushing it down along with his boxers just below his ass.

His hard cock springs free, you wrap your hand around his length, moving it up and down—twisting your hand every now and then, your thumb brushes over the tip, smearing his pre-cum.

Your vision blurs as you watch Satoru’s lips part—his gaze holds yours as he pumps his fingers in and out, your movements in sync. Your breaths were ragged—stifled moans to keep quiet.

He removes his hand from your mouth, you bury your face on the crook of his neck as you try not to moan out loud, hand still moving on his cock. “Sa—toru. Mhm—fuck! ‘m gonna… shit.”

You could hear the muffled—distant, bustle of the hospital just outside the door but it seemed like all the care in world flew out the window while your husband finger-fucks you—you could hear his ragged breathing, biting the skin of your neck as you pump his dick harder.

“Take off your pants.” he says, voice low—almost a growl. You whimper as he removes his fingers—obligingly, you push your pants down along with your undergarments, letting it pool on the floor.

His fingers gripped on the back of your thigh to hoist your leg up, he teases your folds with the tip before aligning himself—slowly, he pushes in—you bite your lip hard, you can’t not moan when he’s stretching you so deliciously.

You’ve been with him for years, but the feeling was just the same—maybe more. God.

All you could do was bury your face on his shoulder, your fingers slipping on his hair as if you’re gripping all the last drop of wits left in you.

Satoru’s breathing was shallow, his hands gripping on your hips as he tried to compose himself—he’s getting insane with the way you’re clenching around him, but he willed himself to move, slowly—deliberately, trying to relish in the way you wrap around him.

“Hah—fuck,” his breath ghosts over your ear, “I’ve got you, baby.”

He presses a soft kiss on your temple, his pace fastens—your back, slamming on the cold wall as he slams himself into you. The pleasure lit every nerve endings in your body, spreading like wildfire all over your skin.

His lips finds yours again—pressing wet, sloppy kisses on you. A little saliva stringing out as your part, “Sat—nggh! So good—mhmm—”

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasps out, his movements fast—deep, hard.

You look at him with heavy-lidded eyes, breathless moans escaping your mouth as you part your lips, your grip on his shoulder tightens. “I love you—Ah—I fuck—ngghh… love you.”

─── DECEMBER, 2023 ───

You were five days late.

Five days.

You stare at your phone again, the big ‘late for five days’ from the period tracker that you downloaded on your phone were screaming at you. You could feel the heartbeat in your chest along with the pounding in your head.

It’s not… could it be?

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t move from where you were standing.

Your fingers ghost above your belly, your heart thudding unmistakably in your chest as your brain evokes some ideas in you—your hands were shaking as you pulled the drawer open, reaching for the pregnancy test just sitting above the pads that you were hoping not to use.

But as you’re about to lift it up, that familiar cramping shoots up on your lower belly and tugs down on your lower back.

You froze.

Instead of the pregnancy test, you pick the pads from the drawer.

And your heart clenched, too tight.

“Hey,” Satoru turned his head from the television as you sat beside him on the couch, “You okay?”

You smile but knowing your husband, he could see right through you. “Got my period.”

You can see this shift in his demeanor, but nonetheless, he smiled at you. He wraps his arms around your waist before pressing a kiss on your shoulder, “It’s okay. We’ll keep trying.”

─── FEBRUARY, 2024 ───

The coffee would’ve boiled if you had the power to do it just by staring at it.

You just came from a three-hour surgery, it was messy—a lot stressful, but it was a success nevertheless and all you wanted to do right now was to sip a cup of coffee, maybe have a few minutes of silence.

You were too exhausted. Your arms feel like it’s about to fall off, your legs feel like jelly, and your brain felt like it was almost giving up on you.

Just a sip. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

You were about to reach for a cup of coffee when your husband’s voice entered your mind. Satoru would always remind you to refrain from drinking coffee because it wouldn’t be good for you—because… you were trying.

You have been trying.

You’re doing all that you can.

You’re doing everything from not drinking coffee to taking a lot less stressful cases and avoiding night shifts—taking supplements, vitamins, hormone boosters to even tracking your ovulation and periods—even as far as scheduling sex.

It was so exhausting and all you wanted was just a sip of coffee.

It has been, what? Five months since you’ve started trying but you were still here.

Still stuck in trying.

Before you even knew it, you were holding a cup of coffee in your hand and was about to take a sip when it got snatched from your hand.

“Nice try, Dr. Gojo.”

You huffed, looking at your husband—you didn’t utter a single word and just tried to reach for it, but then he raised it above his head.

“Are you a kid?” you shot him a look, “You’re so insufferable.”

Satoru just grinned, pressing a kiss on your temple before dumping the coffee into the sink, making you groan—loudly. He reached for something in his pocket.

“You should be taking this.” he says, placing the blister pack in your palm.

It’s your vitamins.

“Fine.” you say, taking one from the pack and then he handed you a water. He watched as you popped it in your mouth—as if he’s checking if you really swallowed it. “Happy?”

“Very much.”

You rolled your eyes but chuckled anyway, you took a deep breath before stepping closer to him, then you leaned onto him—his arms circled around you without any hesitation.

“Tired?”

“Very.” you could feel him tapping your back gently. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his.

“It’s going to work, right?”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Yes. It’ll work.”

─── JULY, 2024 ───

“Dr. YN Gojo?”

You looked up from doing your post-op notes. You immediately fixed your posture and smiled nervously when you realized who it was who called you.

“Dr. Yamada. Hi—uhm, I mean, good afternoon! How may I help you?”

How may I help you? What in the lame ass is this YN?

How can you not get nervous when it’s Dr. Yamada in front of you?

Dr. Emi Yamada, the top cardiothoracic surgeon in the hospital—and in the country, is talking to you and you don’t know what for.

You’ve read her papers. You probably watched one of her lectures when you were in med school—and you know she had been invited to several conferences to speak, she’s even mentioned in different journals for cardiothoracic surgery.

So, yes, you’re kind of spiraling.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” she says with a small smile, “I heard you’re the primary for the thoracoabdominal case last week.”

What… did you do something wrong?

Did she not like your work—

“We have an opening for a fellow. I’d like you to consider.”

Your eyes widened, almost choking on your saliva. “M-me?”

She nodded, putting her hands inside her pocket. “I read your charting. You work fast but precise. You’re very meticulous. I’ve heard your name more than once and they say you’re very good. Well, I could say… that I agree.”

Your jaw almost bore a hole on the ground.

Dr. Yamada is not big on compliments. She’s a bit of a terror as they say.

“I thought they’re just talking big because your father is the chief of surgery. But you’re really good. I’ve read the paper you published when you were a resident.”

And she’s blunt—and she read your paper. Your paper that you published.

“I’m honored but I’ve been on trauma—”

“Since residency, right?” she hummed, “That’s good. But I think cardiothoracic is a good match for you. Hearts are complicated. You know? Complex, demanding. But I could see that you like challenges. We could use someone like you.”

You couldn’t move. Your lips were tight and you didn’t know what else to say.

How could you respond to something like this—not even your father praised you like this.

“I’m… honored.” You don’t even know how you managed to get words out.

“You don’t have to answer now, Dr. Gojo. Just think about it.”

And with that she left you—with a heart pounding so loud in your chest, your pulse was audible in your ears. And as you stood there in that hallway, one person just came into your mind.

Satoru.

Your plan.

Taking this would mean you’re sacrificing the other. But it doesn’t have to be like that, right? You could still try. You could do it.

“Ah, fuck, no.” you whispered, determined not to take it.

But you know—deep inside your heart, something was stirring.

—

“Are you going to eat that?”

“Huh?”

“Your food.” Megumi says before taking a bite, “You okay?”

You stared at Megumi across from you—he texted you saying was here because he said something about his application, and now you’re eating lunch with him because your husband was in surgery.

“Something wrong?” he asked again, brows furrowing when he noticed your staring at him. “You’re acting weird.”

“Do you think it’d be okay if I take a cardiothoracic fellowship?”

“You’d be studying again.” he says and you chuckled, well, you’ve been studying your whole life. It’s nothing new.

“Dr. Yamada offered me the fellowship. She talked to me five days ago. Said I’ll be a good fit.”

He paused, dropping his utensils, “Dr. Yamada…? Dr. Emi Yamada…? Then it’s a big deal.”

You know that.

That’s why you’ve been thinking about it since. It’s not just something you can pass on. It’s a big deal. A career in trauma and cardiothoracic surgery? Soon enough, you’ll be a big deal yourself.

You huffed, leaning back. “I know that, Megs. But..”

“But what?”

“I’m thinking about Satoru. We are trying to have a baby… or were. I have no idea if we still are.” you paused, “And a fellowship like this means more hours. More work, responsibilities and… stress.”

Megumi paused for a while, pondering about what to tell you. “You’re always telling me to always go for what I want. No hesitations. You say it’s better to look at yourself and say you’ve made it even when it’s hard, and not look at yourself and wonder what could’ve been.”

You smiled at him, “I did say that, huh?”

“Yeah.” he almost smiles, “Do you want it?”

You looked away for a bit, staring at some people leaving and entering the cafeteria then you looked back at him.

“Yeah.” you took a deep breath, “I think I do.”

—

You hated how quiet the room is, because you could actually hear your heartbeat inside your chest. You hated how you noticed the flickering of the lamp beside you—the hum of the AC unit—just… everything.

You hated how you couldn’t just talk about it to your husband because you’re afraid of hurting him, of disappointing him more than you already have.

You turned your head, looking at Satoru who’s already half-asleep beside you, his arm carelessly slung above his eyes.

You watched how the breath tumbles out of his lips, how his chest rises and falls with every breath that he takes.

“Satoru.” you whispered.

“Yes, love?” he asks, voice already a bit groggy.

You sighed, sitting up slightly. The sheets fiddling in between your fingers. “Dr. Yamada talked to me.”

He blinked, sleep slowly fading away. “Hm? Dr. Yamada? The Dr. Yamada? About what?”

“She offered me a cardiothoracic fellowship—no, uhm, she suggested I should take a fellowship.”

Satoru pushed his arm off and looked at you with a creased brows, and the look in his eyes pricked your heart in ways you didn’t even know it could.

“Fellowship?” he repeated, confirming. “Are you going to take it?”

“I’m… I— I’m just thinking about it.”

There was silence for a bit. The tension was palpable. “Nevermind—”

“You want it.” he says, you notice the change in his tone. “Just say it.”

“And what if I do?”

He sat up fully, “Jesus, YN. You’re the one who said you wanted to slow down. No more night shift, complicated cases—you said all that. Do you know what this all means? You’re going to do more work. More responsibilities—”

“Don’t you think I know that?” you sat up, taking a deep breath. “But I can do it. We can still try—”

“No, we can’t!” his voice was louder than he intended it to be, the frustrations finally seeping in. “Do you realize how big that is? That’s another late night studying, YN. I’ve seen you burn yourself out. I’ve seen you cry in the goddamn bathroom—ha, fuck, you think we could still try with you going all through that again?”

“Satoru—”

“God,” he laughed bitterly, dragging his hands through his hair, “Take it. Just fucking take it. Seems like you already made a choice, right?”

You could feel the tears falling from your eyes but you wiped them hastily. “I didn’t make a choice, Satoru. I’m just so tired of feeling this way! This fellowship? You know it’s the first thing in ten months that I’ve felt that I could finally do something without feeling like a failure? For the first time in months I could still feel like I was something!”

The look on his face says everything—you’ve hurt him. And you have no way of taking it back.

He stood up, getting out of bed. Looking away from you.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer, instead, he grabbed his pillow out of the bed.

“Satoru.”

“I’m going to sleep on the couch.” he muttered, slamming the door behind him.

And you just stayed there. Not because you didn’t want to stop him—but because you knew if you did, you would’ve said more things you would regret.

─── OCTOBER, 2024 ───

The months passed by in an agonizing blur.

You started your fellowship two months ago—and that was the last time you had a decent conversation with your husband. Since then, you’ve been buried in rotations, surgeries, research and a lot more you couldn’t even count.

You were still sleeping in the same bed but with your backs facing each other. You still eat at the same table but only the clattering of the utensils could be heard.

There are days that he’ll ask if you already ate and you’ll say yes. You’ll ask him if he had slept and he’ll just smile. You were like ships, just passing by each other in the vast ocean.

And the one thing that he did all those months that breaks your heart the most was—he left you coffee.

Coffee.

Because he used to take it out of your hand. Because he used to scold you when you said you wanted a sip. Just a sip and now, he’s letting you drink a whole cup.

And now, your heart is breaking because you know he surrendered. He stopped trying—you both stopped trying.

You know it was your fault. You just didn’t know how to fix it. Because you think it’d be better this way—you didn’t want to loop him in and then give him another hope then disappoint him in the end.

You stared at the cup for too long, not even sure if you wanted it anymore until your phone rings in your pocket and steers away the fog in your brain.

You almost dropped the phone when you saw Suguru’s message. You didn’t even know how but you were there in a matter of seconds.

The ER was in chaos when you arrived.

“Male in the mid-sixties, cardiac arrest on the scene, possible internal blee—”

You shoved the nurses and paramedics out of the way, your heart was wailing inside your chest. Your whole body was pulsating.

Then you saw him, Satoru’s father.

Move, YN. You need to move.

But you couldn’t. He was pale—too pale like life was slowly drowning out of him. There was blood everywhere.

You didn’t even know how you got here—knees already bumping on the gurney, how you got your gloves on—you just know logic went out the window the moment you laid your hands above him.

“Move! I’m taking over compressions! Get the crash cart ready.”

“YN. You can’t—” you hear Suguru’s voice. “I’ll take over—”

“No!” you yelled, already moving, “I—just get the paddles ready! Suguru, please.”

You pressed your hands down his chest—you counted, over and over. “Push one of Epi. Charge to 200—clear!”

You watched as his body jerk above the table, you could already feel your hands trembling but you continued, you couldn’t stop. You won’t.

Stay with me, please.

“Again—Clear!”

Nothing.

“Again!”

“Clear!”

“Again!”

You never stopped moving. You didn’t know how long it was. Minutes? An hour?

“Again!” you yelled, but they weren’t moving—and you, refusing to hear the shrill beeping of the machine in front of you, just continued. “Again—”

“YN.” Suguru says gently, “You’ve been at it for almost an hour.”

But you don't stop. Your arms were sore—but that was never your worry, you wouldn’t do this.

You wouldn’t let this happen.

No.

He can’t lose his father.

“YN.”

You could feel your tears falling as you continued the compressions. “Let go, YN.”

You feel Suguru’s hand above you, “I’ll take over. YN, you need to take a break.”

“No.” your voice cracks, “No. No. No.”

Suguru takes over and you stand there frozen, watching as his hands slowly move until it stops.

“Time of death, 5:46 PM.”

Your hands fell to your side, your gloves soaked with blood—your hair all over the place, but you didn’t move.

You can’t move.

How do you tell his mom?

How do you tell him?

You don’t know how long you stood there—staring at your bloodied gloves when you heard your father’s voice.

“Dr. Gojo! Are you listening?!” he was shouting, “You know it was against protocol! He was your family! What were you thinking?!”

“He was dying…” you whispered, “I was the only trauma attending there… I…”

“That’s not the point—”

“She didn’t have any choice,” Suguru says beside you, “She was the only one there. The interns couldn’t have done what she did. Dr. Gojo only did what she thought was right—she did everything she could.”

You didn’t know what else your father said.

All of it was a blur.

You know you have to talk to Satoru and his mom.

God, your husband. How do you say it to him? How do you tell him that you did everything you could but you couldn’t save his dad?

—

“YN?”

Satoru called for you—his heart dropped when he saw you sitting on the floor, back leaning on the wall just outside the emergency room.

You were still wearing your gown and gloves. You weren’t moving. You were just staring at the pavement like you’ve lost your mind.

He stepped towards you, slowly crouching to your level.

“I’m here,” he whispers, “I’m here, love.”

But you didn’t move, you didn’t look at him because you didn’t know how to. Or if you could even.

“I… I tried,” you whispered, your voice cracking, “Satoru, I tried. I’m sorry. I’m sorry—I can’t save him. I didn’t—I’m sorry. I did everything. Everything. I tried, baby, I’m sorry—”

Your body trembled with every word that you uttered, your fingers twitching as if you’re still moving. Still compressing.

His chest tightens, he pulls you close—his figure slowly enveloping you until you feel small. “I know you tried. I know you did. You didn’t let him die alone, love. I know…”

He stutters, tears falling slowly as he pulls you closer, his words tangled into your skin.

“He would’ve been proud of you, YN. You were there for him when I couldn’t…”

─── DECEMBER, 2024 ───

It’s your husband’s birthday tomorrow.

It’s the first one without his father. It has been almost two months since he died, but Satoru never really talked about it. He never cried in front of you again after that day, he never brought it up.

And you did not push. You didn’t want to say anything, because honestly? You don’t know how to—and there’s a selfish part of you that doesn’t want to open that wound.

So, you just stare at him. At his back. While he pours water on the glasses until he’s aware that you were staring at him.

“What?” he asks, forehead creasing and you chuckled at his reaction. “Why?”

“You know I love you, right?”

He paused, just for a fraction of second before putting the pitcher down. He smiles, “I know.”

You stare at each other, eyes flickering the unspoken words that you couldn’t say. You never talked about it again, trying—not after months of silence, it was too painful for the two of you to even bring it up. So, you just let it sit in the back.

Not knowing how to bring it up. Not knowing what to say.

But there’s one thing you both knew for sure.

That you still love each other and that’ll never change.

He walked towards you—the couch sank beside you as he leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you more, YN. Always have. Always will.”

You smiled, cradling his face in your hands, brushing your noses together.

“Can I have my birthday sex now?”

You pulled away, then you shot him a look. “What?”

“Seriously?” you blinked, you glanced at the clock. “It’s still 11:58 PM. You have two minutes left.”

You shrieked when he carries you up, “Satoru—”

He grins, kissing the side of your lips. “Then advance happy birthday to me then?”

─── DECEMBER 26, 2024 ───

You were scrolling through your phone, eating whatever fruit you had left yesterday, your body sprawled at the couch. Your husband was at the hospital because he got called in and you got left alone at your apartment.

Well, that’s the reality of your job, right? Even if he wanted to stay in with you, he begrudgingly went to the hospital while you just laughed at him for being called in.

Satoru | 3:45 PM

I know you’re still laughing. Mean.

You just rolled your eyes, taking a picture of yourself lounging on the couch so you could rub it in your husband’s face.

You | 3:46 PM

I love you <3

Satoru | 3:47 PM

You laughed at his response. Your poor husband, working after Christmas—

Wait.

“It’s the 26th.” you murmured, “What?”

You stood up from the couch to stare at the small calendar sitting atop the shelf.

It’s almost a month.

A month.

You should’ve had your period by now… right?

You almost sprinted to the bathroom, hastily opening that one drawer—where you had stored the forgotten test kits, the hormone boosters, the vitamins—your hands were shaking when you reached for that one box.

And you think it’s about an hour before you had the guts to open it.

You were sitting on the bathroom floor again. Trying not to stare at the three tests that sit heavy above the counter.

You didn’t want to hope. Not after a year of trying. Not after all the pain and silence.

But your heart betrayed you, it was screaming at you, roaring with hope that you might be—

The alarm causes you to jolt from where you were sitting.

You couldn’t look.

“YN?” you hear the keys clattering on the side table. “I’m home! It was just a consult.”

Then you heard his voice.

You stood up instantly—still not looking at the test, grabbing one before you emerged from the bathroom.

“There you are!” his voice lit up, but then he frowned seeing your glassy eyes, “Hey… what’s wrong?”

You stepped forward, the test still hidden inside your palm. “I can’t look. You look.”

“Huh?”

You reached for his hand, turning his palm up then you placed it on his hand without even looking.

He blinked at you, confused until he looked at what you placed at his palm.

His heart stopped. The air in his lungs was punched out of him.

Two lines.

Two.

“Is this…” his voice cracked as he stared at it—and you couldn’t help it anymore, so you looked, “Love—this is positive. You’re…”

“I am?” you say, tears falling at the side of your eyes, you swallow thickly, “I really am? Is this real?”

He smiles—the kind that eats up his eyes, he pulls you close, embracing you tight. Then you break—sobs wracking out of you, a big one that you almost couldn’t breathe.

“I thought we couldn’t—ever.” you cried, clutching on his shirt as you buried your face on his neck. “I thought something was wrong with me. I thought…”

“No,” he sighs, the one that clears all the sorrows buried deep inside him—a sigh of relief, joy. “No, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

You looked at him, smiling albeit tears were falling. He cups your face with his hands—it was warm, comfortable.

You giggle as he presses a gentle kiss in your face, everywhere his lips could touch. “We’re having a baby.”

“We are. We’re having a baby.”

─── MAY, 2025 (PRESENT) ───

You’re having a baby.

Again.

After you’ve gone to the comfort room—where you felt like all your guts were butchered out of you, your feet dragged you to the storage room where they hid all the kits.

You took five. Five kits.

And now, you’re back at the comfort room—staring at the kits that were taunting you.

All of it has two dark lines.

You press a hand on your belly, slowly brushing it—clutching like it was anchoring you to the ground.

This is real. Isn’t it?

You had no idea how you left the comfort room. All you knew was how heavy the steps that you were taking—the five tests, shoved into your pocket.

You knocked into her door, slowly opening to see Ieiri on her desk. “Hey! I heard Megumi’s surgery is today—”

And that’s when you broke.

You didn’t mean it. You weren’t supposed to cry again. Not like this. Not in front of her but you couldn’t help it.

Shoko was up in an instant, holding onto you before your knees buckled. “Hey—hey—it’s okay. Come here.”

She wrapped her arms around you as your loud sobs echoed around her office, your wails replacing the atmosphere.

You weren’t saying anything.

You couldn’t.

—

“You want to tell me what happened or do you just want to sit here?”

It took a while for you to calm down, and now you’re just sitting quietly on her couch. Your eyes were swollen—knees pressed against your chest.

You took a deep breath before reaching for your coat pocket, laying all the tests in the space between you two.

All five of them. Each one unmistakeable.

You could see how her gaze softened, she placed a hand above yours, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Lie down. Let’s check.”

And then, there you were, lying while Shoko puts the cool gel on your belly—the paper on your back crinkles slightly as you shift, Shoko sits beside the machine, clicking on some buttons.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” you whisper.

You flinched a bit when she pressed the transducer against your skin—her hands were steady, and you tried to focus on the screen or even her voice.

But your heart was pounding. Unsure of what to feel.

“There.” she says with a soft smile on her face, “That’s your baby.”

Then you saw it. A small figure.

It’s tiny. But it’s there. It’s real.

Your baby. Yours and Satoru’s.

The air was caught in your throat.

You chuckled—or cried, maybe—or something in between, wiping the tears falling from the side of your eyes. “That’s… that’s my baby?”

“Yeah,” she pats your hand, “You’re about six weeks. I’d say.”

Your eyes fluttered shut.

You’re six weeks.

Just like when you first lost her. But this one… it’s going to stick, right? You’re not going to lose this one too.

Please.

“Hey,” you hear Ieiri’s voice, you opened your eyes and she was smiling at you, “It’s okay. I know you’re scared. But this is a good thing. Okay? I’m going to keep an eye on you. We’ll have you checked regularly. I’ll make sure everything is okay.”

“Thank you.”

She just smiled and handed you a tissue box. You wiped the gel off your skin and then you sat up, “I haven’t told him.”

“Do you want me to tell him?”

“No.” you say almost immediately, “Not yet. I just want to be sure.”

Your fingers latched on the edge of the bed, gripping it a bit tight. “It’s just that… we’ve been here before. And I gave him hope and I took it away. I just wanted to make sure that this is it. That I wouldn’t just give him another disappointment.”

“I get it,” she nodded, “You’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

—

Satoru was hunched on his desk, typing something on his computer when you came into his neuro lab. He didn’t even notice you came in—he looked so exhausted, like there’s a large weight on his shoulders. His white hair was disheveled a bit, his specs perched on his nose.

You looked around—the lab was dim, there’s a lot of papers stacked and scattered around the table—and there’s a model of the brain just near his computer.

But your eyes flicker to the other side of his desk—it’s a frame, with your picture on it.

You huffed a small breath before walking towards him and that’s when he noticed you. He hoisted his head up—eyes a bit wide from surprise.

“Hey.” he says softly, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? I haven’t seen you since—”

He stopped when you climbed on his lap, without saying anything, your arms slung around his neck, cheeks pressed on his shoulder.

He paused for just a second, then you could feel him relax, leaning you both on the chair while circling his arms around you. Gently tapping your back when he heard you sniffle.

He didn’t utter a word. He just let you—even if he wanted to ask, to know. He just let you in the fear of pushing you away. So, he just stayed quiet, giving you the comfort you clearly needed.

You weren’t sobbing like you were earlier. But your breath hitched, you clutch his coat with every breath coming out of your lips.

But he didn’t say anything. And you wanted to tell him right there and then. But you stopped yourself, you needed to be sure first. You can’t give him false hope.

In a little while, your breathing steadied—getting in sync with him. And you just stayed there, on your husband’s lap, because this is the safest place you know.

Then you pulled away just enough to look at his face. He gave you a smile, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“You’re not going to ask me to sign something again, right?”

And then you broke—laughing, not hysterically, but you laughed at how ridiculous you were, filing for a divorce when you knew you were never going to leave him.

Satoru blinked but then he chuckled.

Then you both sat there—laughing, “God, this is so ridiculous. We’re so stupid.”

“I know.” he mumbles, “This is so dumb.”

Your laughter slowly dies down, you smile at him before pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Satoru.”

His arms tightens around you, resting his head on your shoulders. “Hm?”

“Throw the papers away.”

taglist. @haliyarobin . @anofi . @coffeeluvr96 . @sadmonke .

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slightly-knot-insane · 6 months ago

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I Insist

Monstertober 2024 - day 20 + 31 [ Fear of the Dark + Creature Feature ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!psoglavs* x fem!reader ]

*The quite literal translation for 'psoglav' is 'doghead'. They are nasty creatures, scavengers that eat corpses. They are described having human bodies with a dog head, one eye, iron teeth (and possibly hooves)

content: dub-con, gangbang, knife play, p in v, bukakke, biting, oral (both) tw: dub-con, (mention of) discrimination, racial fetishization

You look behind yourself. The street is very poorly lit and the gangs of psoglavs have been an issue in this area for a while. You click your tongue in annoyance. Calling groups of protesting psoglav "gangs" is very disrespectful. They've been discriminated for many years. Only working the worst jobs and suffering constant repression. The recent case of a psoglav child being refused treatment by a racist doctor sparked protests in the city. And they also ignited the darker side of psoglavs, especially at night.

But you know how much people have been unfair toward them. You've been working as a social worker for ten years and the amount of times you had to fight, yell and scream at authorities and your co-workers to stay professional and fair is alarming. And disappointing.

This is not your usual route of going home. The train stopped outside the station since it broke down and you had to walk through this unfamiliar district or go around following a quite longer path. It's an industrial zone and it's completely abandoned this late at night. You, admittedly, didn't think about that or about the lack of street lights. Which is very foolish.

You use your phone's flash to illuminate your path, but it feels like you're in a horror video game. You push your chin deeper into your jacket and walk faster. You don't get far before hearing a familiar sound of iron hooves ringing against the pavement. A group of psoglavs are following you. Shit.

You stop and turn around and your flash illuminates their impressive teeth and whites of their glaring eyes.

"I'm sorry for walking through here," you say. "I had no idea this was your area."

"Oh don't worry, we don't mind," one of them replies. You count four almost glowing eyes surrounding you. "We can help you get through here."

You take a step back, noticing the dangerous note in his voice. "I'm f-fine."

One of them pulls out a knife. "Oh but we insist."

"Wait..." The one whose eye is shining in a deep green shade steps forward. "I know her. She's one of the social workers who helped my nephew stay with my sister. She's... really nice."

The amount of humans and psoglavs that go through your office is too high for you to remember everyone... but you actually do remember this young man. A few weeks ago, he was sitting in the hallway comforting his little nephew while his sister was nervously pacing in front of the office. An immediate thought flashed through your mind - how caring and sweet he was. Not to mention you have a bit of a... thing for psoglavs and their lanky bodies and elongated arms.

"Is she?" The one with the knife relaxes. "That's okay... But she's still a human. I just... don't like them. Not anymore."

Being surrounded with these tall psoglavs fully electrified with conflicting emotions, aggression and frustration - got you sweating. And wet.

"Well, in any case, too bad such an opportunity go to waste." The next second the knife is at your throat, tip pressing against your pulse. You are too scared to swallow. "Unzip, darling."

One of them takes your phone and illuminates you as if you're on the stage. You remove your jacket and it falls to the ground. The knife slides between your breasts as it cuts your blouse. The tip burns your skin as it lightly enters your skin.

"Not even a little yelp?" The one with the knife mocks. "You are so brave." He proceeds to rip and cut your clothes, and his sharp knife makes a few cuts here an there. Soon you're left in your undies, exposed and trembling, covered in small lacerations. Psoglavs lick their lips and growl.

The knife dances across your stomach and ends up pressed just above your clit. You gasp from anticipation. "You're wet, darling. Your panties are soaked. Such a filthy slut you are." He lifts his knife and pulls it to his mouth. The slow dragging of the blade across his moist, steaming tongue sends a throb right into your core. You're no longer sure that the cold is making you tremble.

"Cherry boy!" You're surprised by his bark. The psoglav you know unglues his eyes from you and looks at his most likely leader. "Would you like to taste a human cunt?"

The cute psoglav seems flabbergasted at first, like he didn't understand the question, but then his bright green eye flashes. In one quick jump he's behind you, pulling you backwards with his long arms. He is squeezing your tits and pushing his hand between your legs, rubbing your damp underwear against your moist lips. He is too rough with you and you jolt.

"Ah... sorry!" His voice is less deep than the leader's, less rough, almost velvety. "You are just so... gorgeous. I really want to... fuck you... I've watched so much psoglav and human porn..."

His friends giggle. The young psoglav growls and fondles you harder. His eager, impatient, raspy pants tickle your exposed neck. He is drooling down your bare back. You can only imagine the state this youngsters is in - and that excites you. Especially the hardness pressing against the small of your back. His bony long fingers pinch your nipples. "So pretty... so soft..."

"Bend her down," the leader instructs him. "She is too short for you so I will help you. It's a shame not to use that delicate mouth of hers too."

He pulls out his semi-hard cock out of his jeans just as the young psoglav pushes your back, bending you forward. "I love human asses," he growls and slaps you. "They are so fat, so soft, I just.... nggghh..."

You feel his hot breath on your ass. The first bite is unpleasant and you yelp. "Hey, easy!"

"S-sorry... I just can't control..." His sharp teeth will definitely leave bruises but you're sure he could do a lot worse if he wanted to.

"Let's keep that mouth of yours busy." The leader takes you by your shoulders and lifts you right in front of his red and swollen cock. He doesn't need to tell you anything and you slurp that thing right in your mouth. You always wondered how does psoglav cock taste like. The leader hisses through his teeth, surprised by your action. "Fuck..."

The young psoglav behind you moves your underwear to the side and the next thing you feel is the long and slimy tongue hitting your g-spot like a torpedo. You whimper and wriggle around, but strong arms hold you in place. "Keep sucking my cock you slut, and let my friends have fun with you."

"You taste so good..." Youngster is slurping and humming against your pussy, eating you out like a juicy watermelon. You knees tremble and you have to grab the leaders jeans just to stay on your feet.

"Come on, cherry boy. Get your cock out. We don't have all night."

With an annoyed grunt, the tongue retracts from your core, just as your orgasm was starting to build up. You whimper and buck your hips wanting him to continue. And fast. The two other psoglavs get their leaking cocks out and stroke them on each of your side.

"Fuck..." The nervousness almost breaks young psoglav's voice. He lifts your thigh high up to position himself, lifting you up with his other arm cupping your stomach. He misses once, twice... but the third time your soaked pussy almost sucks him in. "Oh fuck, I'm inside...." His excitement is so adorable. "I... oh fuck... oh fuck... this is so good..."

His thrusts are insecure for mere seconds before they turn impatient and vigorous, catching a delightful rhythm. Your g-spot gets rubbed by his thick cock, the pressure sending pulses of irresistible pleasure. You get slightly dizzy, two strong psoglavs holding you horizontally almost completely lifted in the air, and you just buck your hips chasing your release before it washes over you. Your scream is muffled by a cock shoved down your throat and they barely notice it from all their panting and growls.

"Great job!" the leader praises the ex-virgin. "You made her cum. You will be an excellent lover."

The young psoglav doesn't say anything, but his thrusts become erratic and irregular and, with a low growl ,he grabs your thigh and pushes himself inside your pussy as far as he can go and releases his load into a body for the first time. Probably turned even more on by his and your panting, the rest of psoglavs shoot their loads on your face and back, covering you with their thick and sticky seed.

"Well..." The leader is breathless. He suddenly releases you and you would've fell onto the ground face first if the young psoglav behind you didn't grab you by the hips and helped you up. "This was fun. Thank you for being on our side, human. We'll keep an eye on you."

The three of them push their cocks inside their jeans and walk away. The young psoglav stays a bit longer to make sure you can stand on your own. After fixing himself up, he removes his jacket and places it on your naked shoulders and runs after his friends. But you see his green eye flashing back toward you, at least one more time.

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divinerapturesys · 2 years ago

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Welcome to my Ted Talk about AsPD, or Antisocial Personality Disorder, which the internet likes to coin as sociopath 👌🏻 if you don’t like long infodumps about stigmatized mental disorders from someone who is diagnosed, move on.

Quick toxic rundown: People with AsPD are generally characterized as emotionless, violent, manipulative abusers who kill animals and like to make other people their bitches. The biggest pet peeve we have is the emotionless, sadistic and abusive generalization.

Personally, we are highly neurotic, with highs and lows of: depression, frantic drive, self abuse tactics, chronic fear, lapses of rejection, overwhelming over-analyzation, grey area thinking, false goods and false bads, ultimatums, obsessive compulsive behavior, harsh self demands, and irritability.

AsPD is a disorder that is caused primarily (according to current research) by trauma and abuse in childhood; most notably being emotional neglect and absent caregivers that cause a child to have emotional shutdowns and repression episodes in an attempt to self soothe. Primary caregivers who do not bond with their children are also a factor. Children learn how to behave from those around them. If a primary caregiver is emotionally distant and unavailable, children will learn that is normal behavior and that’s how people are. If a primary caregiver does not provide empathy and sympathy during moments of distress and fear, children will learn that aloofness and disregard of others feelings is normal behavior. If a primary caregiver does not keep a child safe, children will learn that they should not prioritize their own safety or the safety of others. You can find my follow up post regarding this here.

Neglected and abused children often act out trying to get attention and help, often acting out in bad ways because they lack the ability to articulate what they’re feeling and what is happening to them. The pipeline for AsPD typically is: Oppositional Defiance Disorder as a child, Conduct Disorder as a teen, AsPD as an adult. There are a lot of warning signs cueing that AsPD is becoming a risk for development, but often kids do not have a support system to help negate it as it’s their support system that is usually a factor in its creation.

Being AsPD is like being an emotional La Croix 70% of the time. If you’re depressed, then it’s like someone in the other room has depression and is telling you about it. The other 30% of the time, if you’re depressed, your brain doesn’t understand how to handle it so it’s an ultimatum between doing something drastic to remove the Trigger or ignoring and dissociating for days on end.

People with AsPD are very good at ignoring things. Honestly it’s problematic as fuck but it’s not hard to ignore major issues when you just, don’t care. It’s not in the terms of being cruel or making ourselves not care, but the fact that finding the emotional willpower is so far out of our feasible reach we don’t do it. This causes us to piss people off because we don’t have the capacity to care as much as they want us to, even if we can and do to an extent.

Think of it this way: empathy/sympathy is a deep tub of water that everyone has. They can easily fill their measuring cup for the needed amount of empathy without any issues and it’s easy for them. People with AsPD don’t have a tub of water. We have shallow skillet. When we try to dip our cup to fill it, we can’t, it always comes up short and it is difficult to get any water in it as there is no room for the cup to dive. Our ability to care is limited because we do not have the same emotional resources everyone else does.

❌ False Positives & False Negatives ❌

I operate on what I’ve learned are called false positives and false negatives. These are things that are trained into the brain from an early age based off of childhood trauma and other factors. False positives are a distorted version of why we do something to help ourself and for our own good, meanwhile a false negative is something we do because it’s a threat, or based out of fear.

❌ Some of my false positives:

- It is good to be afraid of nothing

- It is good to adapt to someone’s personality if they are stronger than you

- It is good to isolate yourself

- It is good to be a silver tongue because you can get into any place you want

- It is good to become a social chameleon and shape yourself to whatever those around you need/want most, because then you have no chance of being abandoned

❌ Some of my false negatives, which can explain the false positives as well as core beliefs:

- it is bad to be afraid, if I am afraid then I am vulnerable and it can be used against me

- It is bad to be emotional or show concern for others emotions because they do not care for mine

- It is bad to be able to be exploited, because I believe it is everywhere

- It is bad to allow myself to be bored, because boredom begets bad thoughts and no one can or wants to help me when I spiral

- It is bad to not shape yourself to the social circle, because people quickly grow tired of those who do not match them perfectly and being discarded means I failed

My core beliefs can be viewed as the root for the false positives and negatives, because they are based on the core of trauma, abuse and neglect. They come from patterns and instances that make someone with AsPD become the opposite of what they experienced:

- eat or be eaten

- If I don’t show that my bite is worse than my bark, I will be taken advantage of and I must remain on top because the ones on top are safe

- I must look out for myself because nobody will do it for me

- It doesn’t matter what happens to me, therefore it doesn’t matter what people think of me

- If I cannot do something well, then I should not do it at all

- If you are dependent on others for emotional and mental well being, you are weak, therefore I must isolate myself to avoid becoming codependent and a burden and useless

- If I can handle the stress of a situation better than everyone else, therefore I will keep the problem (financial, emotional, mental, etc) to myself to reduce chances of being abandoned due to failure of perfection

People with AsPD are hard to get along with. We often:

- are always anticipating a fight

- lack respect for authority

- ignore social structures to an extent

- tendency to lie if it’ll lessen punishment or if we feel the lie is more acceptable than our actions

- limit social support because it’s wrong to be dependent on others

- have an inflated view of our own importance — which turns into a self ridicule for believing someome like me could be found important to others —

- can be rude and inconsiderate of others feelings somewhat unintentionally

- are unable to read the correct social cues in relation to empathy towards people and animals

- am constantly confused by others dependence upon empathy and inability to make desicions from logic based standpoints

We can’t speak for everyone who has AsPD, nor are we saying that no one with AsPD is capable of being a murderer/abuser etc. but we are saying that y’all need to stop automatically classifying someone as a certain “type” as soon as you know about their disorder.

One last thing I do want to point out is that it is not uncommon for people with AsPD to derive some sort of enjoyment in causing harm, doing something illegal, hurting someone or animals, etc. This entirely stems from lack of environmental control as a child. Being able to control what happens to others or being able to control the things you say or do that hurts someone else is a hefty high to get addicted to; it soothes the underlying itch of not being able to control your own trauma and abuse, so in turn you push these behaviors onto others and enjoy it because it gives you a sense of power and control. Some people with AsPD do genuinely love hurting others, and some enjoy hurting others when they believe it’s deserved or their ire has been stoked. Some enjoy causing pain to those they think deserve it, and others don’t care who they hurt as long as they feel like they’re in control of the situation.

Hope this have some insight into AsPD 🤙🏻 if y’all have any questions, shoot.

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howlsofbloodhounds · 4 months ago

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In interpretations where Dust has, keeps, and especially wears Papyrus’ scarf, i think people should make Killer more uncomfortable and uneasy with that fact.

He will certainly not say it, he will avoid or intellectualize those emotions as if they’re happening to someone else when in Stage 2–as if it doesn’t really matter, and there’s certainly no emotion behind any actions he may take to have Murder remove it (totally), whatever logical justification he can tries to come up with—but I do believe he’d be uncomfortable with Papyrus’ murderer wearing anything of his.

Would probably make him physically sick, just like it does whenever he remembers what he did to Papyrus, even if he says he’s fine and possibly even believes it.

I say this because, before his soul changed and he became Killer and even after killing Paprus with the human himself multiple times by that point, he was still very uncomfortable whenever the human wore it. He almost seemed to enter a state of being unable to say or do anything besides stare.

Something about how Murder always, always, sees the human in Killer and cannot bring himself to look past it; but in some ways, Murder reminds Killer of the human too.

Edit: *does not want to feel or remember anything that could trigger him into Stage 1. And *overwhelming guilt in st1, repressed in st2.

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wanderingwinds333 · 6 months ago

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What You Keep Hidden. Part 2

Pairing: Eris x Reader, Azriel x Reader.

Authors Note: I was a bit undecided on who I wanted y/n to end up with but I think I’m leaning towards Eris. let me know your thoughts!

Azriel couldn’t let it go. Not this time.

He flew down to the city and sent his shadows out to find you. Only to come up short.

He trekked to your cottage that lies on the outskirts of Velaris. You moved from the House of Wind shortly after Cassian and Nestas mating ceremony.

Once he stepped through your gates he was hit by a strong surge of magic that stopped him dead in his tracks. Wards. You warded your home against him and possibly the rest of his family, but why?

Azriel was no match for your magic on a normal day but his shadows have never had a problem breaking past wards. So he sent them through. He ordered them to tell him what they see.

“Mess. Mess everywhere Master. Remnants of Drugs. Myrthroot and another drug from the autumn court.”

The shadows bring the paraphernalia to him. He couldn’t believe it even though he was looking right at it. You were using drugs? How far had you fallen?

His shadows told him the drugs were from the Autumn court but how did you get them? His shadows didn’t even know the name of them or what they do.

Eris. He must speak to Eris.

He shadow walked directly to the Autumn Palaces doors. Eris had removed the wards from the inner circle in show of good faith and trust.

Eris appeared in seconds having felt Azriels magic cross autumns boundaries.

“Shadowsinger, what brings you here unannounced?” Eris asks a bit wearily.

“What can you tell me about this?” Azriel speaks and all but shoves the drugs in the new high lords hands.

“ Ahh Widows root. A popular drug that my father moved across Prythian. I have been trying to expel it from Autumn and put those away that were caught dealing it. How did you get it?” Eris questioned.

“That’s none of your concern. What does it do?”

Azriel had made a mistake though handing over the contraband.

Eris inhaled deeply and his eyes widened.

“Widows root is a numbing drug. Pain reliever of sorts but not for physical ailments. It shuts off an average faes emotions completely. Turns their mind off basically. But pray tell why y/n’s scent is all over this?” Eris’ eyes darkened in something close to rage.

“As I said before, that’s none of your concern.”

Azriel turned around to leave but flames incircled him.

“I do apologize for the fire but everything with her concerns me Shadowsinger.” Eris spoke unnaturally calm.

Azriel turned back to Eris with furrowed brows.

“How so?”

“She just does. Now I’ll ask again. Why is her scent all over these drugs?” Eris asked.

Azriel sighed. He knew Eris could be trusted now but this was still a family matter and he simply wasn’t family. But if he was going to get out of here with ease he might as well just tell him.

“My shadows found it in her home.”

“Has she been acting differently?” Eris’ tone switched to one of concern.

“Yes but she hasn’t exactly been the same since the war.”

The war was hard for everyone but for you it was life altering. Your family always knew what you were, half high fae and half witch. But the mother didnt stop there with you. Your magic had no bounds or limits. The mother had cursed you with the power of necromancy. You had swore to yourself that you’d never use it. You thought it was unnatural and wrong. But that day you saw your family losing. You knew what the future would be or lack there of if you didn’t intervene.

So when you did step out onto that battlefield you let hundreds of years of repressed magic flow out of you.

A simple incantation had a whole legion of Hybern soldiers drop to their knees and stop breathing. A moment later they were back up but with completely white eyes and under your control.

They fought at your whim. They fought until all their limbs had been cut off and could no longer stand. Only then did you remove your control of their body, when they were no longer of use to you.

You ravaged the field. Your family having a front row seat to your horror show.

They saw how your once golden hair turned ashen. How your normally kind blue eyes turned black with red veins running down your face. You looked like hel incarnate.

Your appearance eventually went back to normal. All except your hair. They did not know what that meant for you.

You were one of the main reasons the war turned in their favor but at what cost?

“Take me to her.” Eris demands breaking Azriels train of thoughts.

Azriel is now confused for a second time with the display of concern Eris is showing for you.

“Even if I wanted to ..I can’t. I don’t know where she is right now. None of us do. She disappears like this sometimes and it’s like she never existed. She never leaves a trail or anything.” Azriel sighs.

“Then I’ll find her myself since you all are incapable of finding one of your own.”

Before Azriel could argue Eris winnowed away.

Leaving Azriel more confused and with more questions than he originally came here with.

Back at the River House.

Azriel had just finished showing Rhysand and Feyre his memories from the encounter with Eris.

“How interesting. It seems his fondness for y/n never went away.” Rhysand speaks mostly to himself.

“What do you mean?” Azriel questions.

Rhysand knew it wasn’t his place to tell because of how much you loathed your necromancy powers but he went on to explain.

“Y/n’s parents were from a high ranking family in Hewn City. My father considered her parents close friends. They were ambushed on a mission my father assigned them to and were killed. Y/n then became my father’s ward. So she grew up around high lords meetings just like I did. She and Eris are only a few years apart in age.”

“Okay so what does that have to do with anything?” Feyre asks.

“Eris and y/n grew up together basically and for the longest time ignored each others presence. But around their early teenage years Eris had done something to upset Beron during a High Lords meeting he was hosting.” Rhysand sighed at the memory.

“In a display of dominance Beron had snapped the neck of Eris’ favorite smoke hound. There wasn’t many things Eris cared about and Beron knew that. So he took the one thing he raised from a pup. Eris did not cry. He did not yell. He simply picked the hound up and left the room. Y/N followed him out. I followed too but stayed in the shadows to watch them.” Rhysand continued.

“She healed the hounds neck and then brought it back to life with her powers. She explained to Eris this could only be done once because anything she brought back for a second time simply wasn’t the same after. He asked her if she could take the hound so it would be safe and y/n immediately agreed. And he hugged her. For the rest of their childhood they were inseparable but only if Beron wasn’t around. As they grew older and into the roles of their own court they grew apart. They never spoke a negative word about one another though. She cared for him and I believe that’s why she would always leave the room when one of us would talk badly about Eris.”

“What happened to the hound? I’ve never seen her with it?” Azriel questioned.

“Oh don’t remind me. That thing lives in the lower levels of the library. Y/n found out Bryaxis loves dogs and she thought he could use the company.” Rhysand speaks with distain.

His brother and mate could only stare at him with bewildered expressions. He just shrugged his shoulders.

“You forgot to mention the part of y/n and I’s history where she held a dagger to Mors throat for lying about my actions the day she claimed I left her for dead in the woods. That one’s my favorite.” Eris spoke from door frame he was leaning on. When the other three remained silent he carried on.

“I found her by the way. Passed out in the forest about a kilometer from her cottage. She had covered her scent somehow so no one could find her.”

“How did you find her then?” Azriel interrogated.

“I have my ways.” Eris smirked.

“Is she alright” Feyre asked concerned.

Eris’s facial expressions turned grim.

“No. She’s been using Widows Root heavily. I fear her withdrawal will be too much for her to handle. Her mind will need to be held. I wish to be with her when it happens if that’s okay.” Eris turns to look at Feyre and Rhysand directly.

Rhysand nods his head. “Of course but only if you can tell me why you are so concerned with her well being after all these years?”

A genuine smile breaks out on the autumn males face. A truly eerie sight for Feyre, Azriel and Rhysand after dealing with his cruel mask for so long.

“You don’t forget the first kindness that was ever shown to you Rhysand. That kind of thing sticks with you. I made a bargain with her that day you know? I told her I’d look after her always and never hurt her. In return she promised the same for me.” His smile dropped before he continued.

This confused Rhysand because he doesn’t remember there being a bargain.

“Clearly I didn’t look after her well enough. I knew when I took over my court I should have brought her with me. But she refused when I offered and I didn’t want to force her.” Eris spoke, frustration clear in his tone.

The whole display of emotions made Azriel very uncomfortable. He can’t lie and say he never thought of you as more than a friend because he did. You were beautiful and kind. But you weren’t someone that ever needed him. As bad as it sounds he was drawn to females who needed his help in some way. He wanted to feel useful. But with you, you always had it all together and never asked anyone for help. On the contrary you were normally the one besides himself that went out of your way to help others on the daily.

He knew what he felt was jealousy. Jealous over another damn Vanserra brother. The thought leaves him quickly as he checks himself. Before anything you were his friend. His feelings in this don’t matter.

“Azriel can you go fetch Madja. I’d like her to be with us incase anything happens.” Azriel nods his head and leaves. Feyre takes her exit as well to go check on Nyx.

The High Lord of Night holds a calculating stare at the High Lord of Autumn.

Eris can see the exact moment he figures it out.

“How long?” Rhysand asks.

“How long what?” Eris smirks with that arrogant way he has about him. Hoping he is wrong and Rhysand hasn’t actually figured out anything.

“How long have you and y/n been keeping your mating bond a secret?”

#eris x you #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar x reader

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