Baring Teeth
Azriel x Archeron!Reader
Summary: Azriel and reader are mates, after what has felt like a lifetime to them with how fast life has seemed to move Azriel finds himself wanting what his brothers have, his mate having been through hell and back is willing to give him whatever she can.
Warnings: Some smut scenes, death, violence, war, torture, blood, inappropriate language and jokes, this is entirely an 18+ work.
Word Count: 14,099
Notes: This was meant to be that Azriel baby fever fic from the get-go, but I got sidetracked, it gets there eventually. Lemme know if you would like to see a part 2!
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If you asked Azriel he was anything but a jealous male, if you asked his mate however she would tell you it was circumstantial at best.
It had been only a handful of years since my sisters had destroyed the cauldron and the king of Hybern but life seemed to want to fasten its pace. I couldn’t say I didn't blame it for wanting too either. Being born between Nesta and Elain always had its challenges, my mother favored Nesta as the first born and both of my parents always doted on Elain for her sweet, caring, and gentle nature; I had always just been there neither parent cared what I did and that was amplified when Feyre was born. I used the opportunity to learn something unique for my family, how to wield a sword, to fight, to kill. I used the opportunity to learn from guards, sell swords, mercenaries, and what teachers were available to me.
So when my family lost all of their money I announced I’d be working as a sellsword, Nesta had thrown a fit about it but at this point she threw a fit about everything. I had a small amount of gold stashed for myself so when my parents finally decided to marry me off I’d run and buy all the things I needed to start my career as a sellsword, or mercenary, or just whatever I ended up becoming; I’d announced I was going into town and slipped out the door with the bag of coins strapped to my waist. I had bought a few furs, a good quality sword that would get me through till I could buy a better one, some bags I was able to strap across my body, and some easy traveling clothes, and some small pieces of leather. I knew if I was going to be gone they would need some way to be able to get food; I split my coin down the middle and used half of what I had left to buy them food, the other half I’d save for travel expenses.
I dropped the food off with my sisters and father, then slipped back out the door after a quick goodbye and made my way towards one of the nobles' nearest estates. One of my teachers had written to me when he found out about my family's misfortune and told me he was stationed there and would recommend me to the lord he worked for, all I had to do was show up. I Showed up like he said, not to the front door but to the side door, the servants quarters and there I was greeted by my teacher and some other for hire guards who all coaxed me in with pats on my back and one went to fetch the head of staffing. It was an easily acquired job with a recommendation from my teacher and the other guards that had greeted me at the door, an even easier job to perform with good pay; simple patrols and hunting shifts at 50 gold a day.
While I was there the barracks became my home, the other sellswords and mercs became family and before I knew it I was going out with them on the days we were released and getting drinks and celebrating. I had a pretty good stash of gold saved up, kept it in a nice bag that my belt strapped through and kept it firmly against my hip, I would write to my sisters and send them 10 gold once a week to help keep them fed. If I sent more I knew Nesta or Elain would commandeer it and use it on useless things, they could at least stock up on a good amount of fillers like rice or barley with 10 gold.
They never wrote back, it was probably a good thing in hindsight. Had any of them mentioned Feyre being taken by the fae I would have gone right after her, but there was no mention of it to me until I got a letter from Nesta one day saying they had been moved into a new estate and father’s fortune had been restored by some sheer dumb luck. I wrote back congratulating them but making them aware I had no intention of giving up my post; then the next letter came written by Nesta again it had said something was wrong with feyre, telling the story of what had actually happened while I was gone. It had told me that Feyre had been taken by some fae monster that then she had returned after that first letter had been sent to me but had to leave again to go after some male she loved, but that this time she called the same male she left for the first time a monster and had appeared at the estates doorstep with three males on her heels and asked for us to hear them out. I didn’t bother writing back, Nesta had sent that letter the same day. If I took a horse I’d be at where they mentioned their estate was within two hours, so I stepped down from my post and was told if I ever needed it to come right on back to them; I set out towards my family's estate with a large fur on my back to battle the chill winds, when I arrived a staff member took the horse and showed me inside.
Nesta was the first to greet me, pulling me in for a hug and telling me how proud she was that I made something of myself; she told me how tense the atmosphere had been since Feyre showed up with the males, that feyre was now a member of the fae and she had somehow been changed into one of them. I had nothing against the civil fae but we were close enough to the wall some strays would slip through and tear apart weaker humans, I had helped the barracks crew take down some rogues that slipped past the wall on a few occasions; nothing big, nagas as I had been told were the most common ones we faced.
Stepping into the room elain squealed and buried herself into my side and the fur I wore, I heard Feyre call out to me with hesitancy as her eyes raked over the small scars the littered my exposed skin from the fights in the woods or sparring accidents; I motioned her over and pulled her into a hug, fae or not she was still my family and still my baby sister. The fae behind her had introduced themselves and their positions, they seemed to have no qualm with me but with Nesta and Elain. One wrong comment sent Elain into tears while she profusely apologized to Feyre, the two had their moment but it didn’t set right with me; yes they were in the wrong for doing nothing while Feyre hunted almost daily for them and I was off working, but they very obviously realized they had fucked up and were in the wrong. It did not mean they got to insult my family and I made sure they knew that, one of the males the tallest with the biggest wings there that I would later come to know as Azriel, seemed amused with my wild and protective temper and applauded me for it.
They later left with promise to come back soon, I busied myself with the guards and servants we had around the estate by leading patrols and hunting parties myself; I stayed out of most of their business so the next time I saw them I had just returned from a hunting party, dragging a decent sized deer to the kitchen. The tall male found me there in the kitchen caught off guard when he found me there, sleeves rolled up and cloak tossed to the size with a butcher knife in my hand while dismembering the deer; he had introduced himself to me then, as Azriel, and offered to help. I tossed him the hide and asked him to bring it out back, string it up on the dry rack. He agreed, I’d get around to curing the skin of the hide after I finished drying and preparing the rest of the meat; when he returned I had already stored all the meat away and was by the sink basin washing the deers dark blood from off my hands, I looked up at him from the corner of my eye and watched as his breath hitched and he quickly excused himself from the room.
Nesta was the one who collected me when the queens were on their way, a new member had joined us in the living room that I had not recognized but she introduced herself as Mor; I stood silently like a guard myself when the human guards joined us, silently judging them as my sister and ‘her mate’ as she had called him explained to the queens what they needed. The meeting was surprisingly quick, the queens leaving just as quickly as they had arrived. We ate dinner together like a family that night, Azriel made small talk with me about my skills and training; I had to admit to myself that I found it endearing no one else even my sisters cared or dared, I wasn’t sure which it exactly was with them, to ask me about it.
They left the next morning, and life returned to normal once the servants themselves returned; Oftentimes I got incredulous looks for being in the back working on my pelts or sparring with the dummy I had ordered set up when I returned to the estate, other times the children of the servants were more than ecstatic to ask me of tales I had experienced within the woods. I had ended up using that deer hide in my cloaks, something about it was sentimental to me, though I couldn’t quite place why.
A few weeks later, my nerves were on end, like the times when the entire barracks would ride out together hunting a naga or other rogue beast and we weren’t quite sure where they were lurking. I didn’t bother changing out of my armor and cloak. I should’ve trusted my gut that night, as I was unable to find sleep easily and only able to fall asleep with my blade at my side and a dagger under my pillow. I awoke to screaming from down the hall, Elain’s scream, I burst out of my room blade in hand knocking a few of them off their feet as the door collided with them.
One thing that had been instilled into me over the time with my teachers was the fact the bigger you looked the more intimidating you could be, my piled furs and cloak were an extension of that teaching; a large black wolf pelt was my crowning piece on my shoulders the, the deer hanging over my shoulders under that like a shawl.
The fae turned to look at me in the faint light and darkness of our home, needless to say the illusion I was aiming for had worked on them as I heard several yell, “Beast!”, in alarm at me. And beast I was, I had taken down and decapitated several of them before they finally apprehended me in my war path to get to Elain and Nesta, the latter I realized had been gagged and I saw blood on her face; ever the fighter she was I had seen one of them holding her nursing one of his hands over the other and had surmised she had bitten him, and taken a chunk from his hand. I’d have to applaud her eventually for that, it was genius thinking and she was always so much smarter than she let on. They doused us with some sort of potion or substance that swept Elain under immediately, Nesta fought off the sleep as much as she could but after a few seconds went under herself; I fought against them straining and struggling, teeth bared, fighting off the sleep that coaxed me at the edges of my mind till they had to use another dose to put me under.
I awoke to chaos. So much was happening. Azriel and Cassian were insanely injured but still trying to fight the bane in their systems to crawl to us. Feyre bawling. Two males and a female I didn’t recognize beside her. The male I had been introduced to as Rhysand was in pain himself. A large male in the center of the room. Two guards either side of Elain hauling her up. A large thing that didn't seem natural in the center of the room. Nesta had three guards around her. I had seven. The seven I realized were on edge around me, made uneasy by me. Made uneasy even though I was restrained in any way they could think of. I felt like a beast surveying its options of prey to hunt.
The large male in the center, realizing all of us were finally awake, finally introduced himself as the King of Hybern, a name I recognized Azriel’s family talking about at the meeting. The King introduced the strange object as ‘The Cauldron’, Azriel had mentioned it was something akin to a god to them. Not natural indeed. He motioned for the guards to bring Elain forward as he explained his plan, the guards raised her over the large pot; she screamed and thrashed in their grip, red marks and bruises already appearing on her skin. I saw red. I shot forward, catching all the guards around me by surprise as they scrambled to get ahold of my restraints and chains; they stopped me just as Elain went under, my arms were pinned behind my back by a chain and I snarled, insults and threats falling from my mouth. I heard Nesta react similarly yet not as violently as I was, seemingly stunned by everything going on, or maybe it was just her cold mask refusing to let the King and our enemies see how much she was fazed.
The king simply let out a dark laugh. “The feral beast bares her teeth.” It was meant as a condescending remark.
They pulled Elain out of the cauldron and I jolted forward towards her again, catching the ones holding my chains off guard and several of them fell to the floor from the sudden jerk forward that caused them to lose their footing. One of the males at Feyre’s side mumbled something I didn’t catch thanks to the blood pounding in my ears, and my attention caught on him and the blondes beside him; he straightened eyes, or eye, wide and he stumbled back. I turned my attention back to the so-called ‘King’, promises of death dripping like venom from my teeth; I barely caught the fact Rhys or maybe it was Mor had pulled Elain to their side of the room.
The King tilted his head at me, an amused smile on his face as he spoke to me. “You want to behave like a beast? So be it.” He turned his attention to the seven around me. “Get her in that cauldron I don’t care how.”
A chorus of yes sirs surrounded me and the chains began to dig into my skin as they tried to pull me towards the over-sized cooking pot. I had just started to lose my footing when a weak call came from my right, giving me just enough motivation to regain it.
“Fight them! You’ve taken down worse things than them! They are nothing compared to those Nagas in the woods! Come on! I believe in you! Show them those techniques you told me about!” Azriel had braced himself on one elbow wincing against the fae bane in his system.
I nodded and braced myself the best I could, the guards stood on the other side of the pot as me and I turned slightly as I let out a snarl like smile. They looked between each other in worry as I dug my boots into the ground and hauled ass the other direction, dragging one of them too close to the cauldron they tripped, losing control of the chain and fell in screaming himself. One of the others dropped a chain to the floor, giving me more breathing room, to help the screaming male out of the pot; he trashed on the floor ripping his armor off exposing his skin that had begun boiling and simply falling off.
The others tightened their grip on my chains but were distracted by the horror of the scene, the one that had helped him out screamed and began throwing up. I heard Nesta cheer behind me, and I turned my attention to what seemed like the now weakest guard holding my chains; I charged forward, the male screamed in horror as I caught him off guard and took a page out of Nestas book and sunk my teeth into his throat. Just as I was expecting the guards on the opposite side pulled violently and assisted me in pulling his throat out, I wasn’t going to go down easy, and by whatever gods did exist it was going to be violent and bloody. He grasped his hollowed throat and tried to scream as he collapsed and I spit the wad of torn flesh towards the King’s feet; I was down to four guards , but what I didn’t account for was the backwards motion created by the other 3 guards.
I had collided with the side of the cauldron and howled out in pain, the guards took the opportunity to haul me up; I tried thrashing but every time I moved pain shot through my body. Unable to struggle against the water as it pulled me in I snapped at the guard trying to push my head under’s hand, taking a few fingers with me as I finally submerged.
It was dark for a moment, then I was in an open room able to stand on my feet and move without pain. I heard shuffling somewhere opposite me, the more I moved forward so did it; till I was face to face with a giant beast, black and golden brown, eyes that seemed to look into my soul, and grand antlers with flesh hanging from them. The sickening feeling like I was looking in a mirror sunk into my chest, when I moved the beast moved.
Then it finally spoke, yet it didn’t at the same time. Something ancient I couldn't understand or speak. Yet intrinsically I knew what it was asking me. That if my true nature was like that of the beast itself, that I should just give in. That if I did I would bring all my enemies to their knees, take them all to their graves. It asked if I would accept that part of me, asked if I would accept its offer of power. I nodded, and it stepped forward lowering its head to my level. I stepped forward meeting it there in the middle of the never ending, ethereal space. It pressed its head against me, and then I was taking a large gasping breath as I felt my bones break and reforge, a blinding pain before I could see detail so much sharper then I had been able to, could hear everything as every sense in me heightened. I felt stronger, felt faster, like one of the beasts I hunted in the woods with my friends in the barracks. Then I felt the inky thickness of the Cauldrons water again, I could see my own hands and claws as I reached out and felt the cool metal; I felt the chains around me tighten again ever so slightly before they fell away as I began to haul myself from the black water. It sloshed and spilled over onto the floor as I emerged, blacker than the depths of the shadows that followed me through the woods in the late hours of the night.
I swallowed a breath as I hauled myself over the edge of the cauldron and finally collapsed on the floor; I used my hands to keep me from fully collapsing as I kneeled there and looked up at the King, a deadly promise in my eyes as I snarled a simple “Your head will be mine and I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
My hair hung in my face, droplets of black water slowly fading to a normal color as I dried, and he smiled in amusement. “Once a beast always a beast.”
I took a breath and looked down at the puddle on the floor, my firs were still wrapped around me though sopping wet but it wasn’t my obviously messed up appearance that shocked me, but the eyes that looked back at me that did. Thin slits like the beast I had seen within those waters stared back, the color still my own but so much different. I heard Azriel call out for me in a strangled noise, I turned my attention sharply towards him to find him looking devastated; I wanted to comfort him, he was such a good male and I was in so much pain I was exhausted, I hauled myself shakily to my feet barely able to make it to him as I collapsed at his side. Nesta called out to me as my vision began to fade, and I saw Cassian lurch forward despite the threat to his life as he screamed for her. I lost my vision just ;as she was going under’ the simple threat to the king, so much calmer than my own, made me smile before I passed out.
I had despised waking up in places I was unfamiliar with, I shot up with a growl before wincing and clutching my side. A small female attempted to calm me down to no avail, till I heard Azriel’s weak voice through the haze.
“Hey Wildling, woah, woah, they are just trying to help. They’re our healers. You're in the Night Court, remember me telling you about this place?” He was on a cot in just his leather pants, a large white bandage around his waist, chest, over one shoulder, and around his massive wings.
I nodded and looked around slowly, all the fae were looking at me terrified and on edge, like they would run from the room at the slightest growl from me.
“Sorry, just caught by surprise.” I mumbled and looked down at the bandages around my own waist, they covered my chest and entire torso.
I didn’t really care about modesty, you live with men for long enough especially mercs and sellsword men that you stop caring, and they stop caring about your own body. Many times I hade changed into my uniform or hunting clothes in front of them while we were all getting ready for the day's assignments. I scanned over the bandages no blood leaked through but everytime I moved It hurt, everytime I took too deep a breath it hurt.
“I’m sure from your experience you can gather what happened?” Azriel’s voice was soft, and a comfort. I wouldn’t admit it, yet anyways until I found out everything that was going on, but I had started to consider him a friend or maybe something even more; I mean those wings were fascinating and from the time we aparred in the back he had experience and when my knee had met his crotch in a low blow, after all who fought fair anymore, he was well endowed.
“I’m one of you now, aren’t I? Elain and Nesta too, just like Feyre.” I quirked a brow at him and he nodded.
“And as for your injuries, what do you assume happened?” He quirked a brow right back at me, a test of my knowledge like we had done with sparring.
“Broken ribs? That pull back had to have enough force to break them, especially when I collided with the cauldron. Severe bruising and maybe even some large gashes? Those chains were tight enough there had to be at least major bruising.” I winced as I adjusted how I was seated.
He nodded with a smile. “Correct to an extent, good job wildling.” His wings flared as he adjusted himself, and I wanted to move forward and help him adjust slow enough he wouldn't hurt himself.
He smiled when I extended my hand to stop him. “Hey im okay, i'm more worried about you right now, I’ve been shot down from the sky with fae bane arrows and survived it. I'll be fine. You however are the one I’m worried about, those chains were tugged back tight enough it had shattered your ribcage and popped at least one of your lungs. Thankfully the fae healing kicked in for you fast enough to keep you alive.”
I nodded in stunned silence. “Just sore and it hurts to move i. Sone directions, I'm breathing fine now.”
“Good! Madja, shes our lead healer here, was worried your healing wouldnt work fast enough since you were freshly made.” Azriel told me in a worried tone, but I could feel it in my chest, feel just how worried he was in my heart; could feel his emotions as well as my own.
I tilted my head in confusion and reached for where I felt him in my chest, my brows furrowed and he straightened.
“Are you okay?” He looked anxious like he was about to call for one of the nurses to help me.
“Im fine just confused? You told me all that information in a worried tone but I felt it here,” I motioned to my chest, “Like it was my own emotion.”
Small gasps echoed across the room and the small nurses fled. Azriel rose from his bed slowly and came to sit at the edge of mine.
“You feel it too then.” He spoke softly to me like he was calming a storm. “I wasnt going to mention it to you right away, both Nesta and Elain didn’t have the best reactions to suddenly having mates.”
“Mates?” I tilted my head quizzically at him. “I’ve heard the word, though I’m not a hundred percent sure what that means or what is expected of me.”
He placed his hand on mine. “Like Feyre and Rhys right?” I nodded. “The Mother, you remember her right? I mentioned she was another one of our ‘gods’ as well.” I nodded again, listening intently.
“Well,” he hummed trying to consider how to word something.”She blesses some fae with mates, or whats called ‘the mating bond’ its a soulbond between two people normally between two fae. Though admittedly both Rhys and I felt it with you and Feyre while you were still humans.”
I moved to squeeze his hand softly with my own. “So, our souls are intertwined with the others?”
He nodded. “That's one way to put it,while you didnt feel it snap till you were turned most likely, i felt it that day I walked into the kitchen to find you washing the blood off your arms and hands. You were just, how do I put it into words, Ethereally beautiful? Darkly enchanting? I don’t know how to word it but you get the picture. I felt the bond snap in my chest and I almost lost myself to the emotions when you looked up at me the way you did, like a flirtatious taunt.”
A blush crept up his face and I felt it creep up my own. I felt his adoration seep into my own chest again and I looked up at him in pure adoration back. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” He smiled.
“Make me feel what you’re feeling?” I furrowed my brows for a second as I tried to send my emotions to him, to show him how I’ve felt about him for a while now without realizing it.
He moved his hand to his own chest, and tears welled in his eyes. “I didn’t even have to explain it to you, see? You’ve already picked it up. All the love you're pushing through to me. Good Job wildling.”
I smiled but then frowned. “I get the physical connection of it now but what is expected of me?”
He smiled and caressed my face gently, thumb running over my cheek bone. “As of right now? Nothing. But if you decide you want to accept it or reject it, then we will have more to discuss.”
I nodded and went to open my mouth but he interrupted me first. “I don’t want you to make a decision right now. Think on it for awhile, process all the changes to your life first okay wildling?”
He smiled sadly and I nodded. I could feel his sadness through the bond though I could tell he wasn't trying to make me feel it, I just could, probably easier than most I assumed since every other sense of mine was heightened. A soft knock rasped against the door and my attention shot to it, Azriel called for whoever it was to come in. Rhys had pushed his head in followed by his entire body.
He nodded at the two of us. “I see you’re both doing well, I owe the both of you an explanation and update on everything.”
So we sat, we sat and listened as Rhys gave us the rundown. How and why Feyre was in the spring court, how she was our inside girl, how eventually she would return. Explained to us Cassian was still out, having experienced a higher dose of fae bane than Azriel, but while he was healing slowly he was still healing and would be okay. Then he finally turned his attention solely on me and gave me a rundown on Nesta and Elain’s health. I must have pushed my grief down the bond to Azriel before the tears had even reached my eyes, because he was already comforting me when the dam burst. Rhys stood silent in front of us, before he congratulated us on our bond and offered me any assistance I would need in adjusting or helping my sisters adjust to the massive change in our lives. Eventually he left ,after some small talk with Azriel, to check on Cassian.
Then it was just me and Azriel again, for the next few weeks it stayed just me and Azriel in our small medical room with check ins from Rhys and Madja. We eventually got the clear and along with that cane the announcement Cassian was awake, we beelined it to his room; he was still on bed rest and would be for the next handful of days as they double checked everything had healed properly and assessed the damage. I was shown to my room right next door to Azriel’s, inside a neatly wrapped box in a blue bow sat on the foot of my bed.
“I asked Rhys to pick it up for me.” He smiled and sent a wave of adoration into my chest.
Opening the box I found a set of folded clothing black pants and a flowy comfy dark blue shirt. I sent a wave of appreciation his way and fingered the silky fabric. “Thank you Az, this is… probably the nicest set of clothing I’ve ever had.”
“Your welcome wildling.” He leaned down to press his forehead to my shoulder. His actions caught me by surprise and nearly had me crying, it was such a pure act of surrender and love; my breath caught in my throat and I had to swallow back sobs as I moved one hand to caress what I could reach for the male.
I had made up my mind then and there what my answer to the bond would be, if anyone could guide me and my ways through the sudden changes it was him. I stepped forward and he furrowed his brows but I turned and planted a kiss on his lips. He let out a mixture of a cry and a whimper when I pulled away, his eyes wide and watery; I turned back towards the clothes, not thinking about the implications as I stripped from my current ones and bandages but was stopped before I could step into the new ones laid out in front of me.
Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as he ran a light touch across a lingering bruise on my skin, goosebumps shot up my skin in a wave of chills that caused me to flinch and wince. Azriel growled softly at the thought of me in pain, or at least that's the impression I got from his side of the bond.
He wrapped himself around me, his hands finding purchase on my chest, causing me to swat at him with a light hearted hiss.
He grumbled back at me, rubbing his hand where I had smacked him in mock defeat. “You shouldn’t be so casual about stripping then. Especially being as hurt as you are, the urge to just protect you and curl up around you is a bit overwhelming right now.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to my clothes, finally stepping into the new ones. “This is nothing compared to what it used to be like in the barracks.”
“What do you mean?” It was slightly growled out, the tiniest wave of jealousy seeping from his soul to mine.
Without thinking about what he meant or the new emotions in my chest I responded to him. “There were maybe 10-15 of us in the barracks total, I was the only female. Not necessarily common amongst sellswords, yet I kept up with all of them. You all become close like family; I'm sure you get how that feels, I mean you, Cass, and Rhys are like that. But after a point you all just change infront of each other and no one really looks or cares anymore, it just becomes natural, part of the routine in the morning.”
I shrugged it off as I shrugged my shirt over my shoulders, still slightly sore when I stretched my arms above my head. Azriel growled but tried to stop himself, an attempt to remember I hadn’t accepted the bond yet so he had no reason to be feeling jealous and territorial. “Ah, I see, I get what you’re saying though I admit I am a bit envious that 10 or 15 males have seen you shirtless before I did.”
I tried, I really did, to prevent the chuckle that fell from my lips. Azriel growled playfully in response. It was comfortable whatever we had, between all their meetings at the house and the now formed bond between us, I felt safe around him. Behind him neatly hung my cloak and furs, sparkling and pristine as the days I had cured them; yet somehow bigger, I understood with a simple what had happened: they had changed with me.
He caught where my eyes had fallen and smiled at me brightly. “Oh! Rhys said he would bring them to your room, I noticed they were different too. You went into the cauldron small yet ferocious enough you unsettled them, they couldn’t figure out how you were outsmarting them or how you had already killed so many of their comrades. But when you came out, they understood how and why. The cauldron however it forged your body anew, decided that for however ferocious and ambitious you were, you would need a bigger vessel to do it in.”
I hadn’t realized it yet but I only stood a few inches shorter than Azriel did now, eye level with his chin and throat; when before I was much shorter, level to his chest at most. It was then that I caught my reflection in the mirror, my features had indeed sharpened or elongated in spots and I gave off a predatory air about myself without even trying; Azriel stood behind me as I took the sight in. While I knew he was no high lord, the way in which he carried himself said otherwise, in the mirror, I realized we looked like the Lord of shadow and the beast that lurked just within it. A display I noted, however beautiful it was just between us, would have horrified onlookers if it was meant to intimidate. A thought I found quite pleasing.
He rested his head on my shoulder and I let out a low purr in response to the imagery in the mirror. “So. Let's say if I were to accept this bond.” He perked up. “What would be expected or asked of me? What would the process of accepting it be?”
His eyes met mine in the mirror, the smallest change in his scent had alerted me to what affect my questions had on him. A small enough change that if my senses hadn’t heightened more than even Azriel or Rhys’s that I wouldn’t have caught it.
“If you were to accept it,” he crooned, “then my answer would stay the same, I expect nothing of you except to accept my love for you and for you to return it back to me. I have waited centuries to find my mate, and you are so new to the world of the fae I want you to be able to explore it but I also want to be a guiding hand for you to do so. As you know I’m Rhys’s spymaster. I may be gone on missions for up to a week at a time, if you wish I can train you even more and you can eventually join me on them.” His shadows swirled at my feet, I had learned to accept them as an extension of himself from the first time we met, where he went they followed. “Is that acceptable?”
I nodded, a warmth in my chest. “And how would consummating the bond work?” A low purr rumbled from my own chest that ended in his own.
“It's a real simple process, a simple ritual, only differing slightly from the human tradition of marriage. Same significance just without rings.” He placed a kiss on my neck before continuing. “One of us cooks for the other, and presents it to the other to eat. Normally it’s something simple, seeing as the hormones and instincts start to affect us from the first bite we normally can’t scarf a whole meal down. Feyre made Rhys soup. Once the food has been consumed, like I said instincts and hormones take us over, reverting us to nothing more than feral creatures intent on fucking our mates till we collapse. That phase normally takes about a week, then it's a phase of adjusting to life together, heightened emotions, territorial instincts, and being inseparable till the bond calms. That phase however differs between mates.” His eyes bore into me in the mirror, the gold flecks in his hazel eyes sparkled in a feral amusement at my reactions as he spoke.
“So all I’d have to do is cook you something?”I tilted my head giving him more access to my neck as he slowly dragged his lips across the open space, in slow tension filled kisses.
“It depends,” He smirked at me, his canine digging ever so slightly into my skin. “On if you had the intention of accepting the bond or not. You have to make and serve me the food with the intention of accepting the bond.”
I shuddered under him. “I take it Rhys has given you some time off from work, to recover and until Feyre updates us on the situation?”
“Possibly.” He nipped at my neck trying to elicit the same shudder as earlier. “Why do you ask?”
I wanted to groan at him. “Maybe I was considering consummating it. But since you won’t give me a straight answer we will have to wait and see.”
I offered him a smirk back only for it to die on my face quickly, between the heat in his eyes and the growl that rose from his chest.
“Wildling.” He warned, “Do not toy with me, if you have the intent to accept the bond, tell me here and now. If you intend to cook for me I will march you straight to the kitchen and barge into Rhys’s office right now to tell him I’ll be taking the week off entirely.”
I swallowed a shaky breath at the pure power and intimidation he oozed when growling like that, his nose twitched and I assumed he picked up the shift in my scent. “So tell me wildling, do you intend to accept it?”
I swallowed and nodded. “Yes, I do.” It was shaky and broken up as I tried to regain my composure.
“Good” That same growl again, had my knees weakening. “Then I’ll show you to the kitchen.”
And so he did, he led me through the winding halls of the house till we were in the large kitchen and he dismissed himself quickly with a kiss lingering on my forehead. I shuffled through the cabinets noting ingredients as I went, trying to figure out something I could make. Meat, I knew how to cook different meats, had hunted and cooked several different kinds of it, whatever I made him I decided I wanted to have meat in it. Beef I thought or some chicken, I jumped out of my boots when a bundle wrapped in brown butcher paper appeared on the counter in front of me; the house was sentient Azriel had told me but I didn’t think it meant like this.
I unwrapped the bundle, white meat and from the looks of it chicken. Easy to cook, easy to pair with any ingredients I found lying around; my attention was drawn towards a fruit bowl, a lemon topping the pile of fruits. How amusing I thought, for the fae to have fruits from the human lands; only when I had pulled a knife from the wooden block and had split the lemon in half did I realize it wasn’t just a lemon, the taste and smell of it were both much sweeter and stronger yet still held a sour note. I found the spice cabinet and went through it, pulling everything I wanted out; a lemon pepper chicken I decided, simple yet enough to keep his energy up.
I had a tendency to keep my guard up unless I was in a place I ultimately felt safe and with Azriel just down the hall I felt safe enough to lose myself in cooking, it was something I had learned I had enjoyed when I was working in the barracks; I’d hunt down whatever tomorrow’s dinner would be then help the chefs prepare it for storage, then take the hides to be cured and turned into blankets for the barracks or depending on the quality of the pelt. Then when I returned to the kitchen the chef would have the night's dinner out and ready to begin preparing. The chef there was an older gentleman with blonde hair that had turned mostly white by the time I met him; he walked me through everything he did, explaining why and answering any questions he had. However, due to my love for the craft I found it easy to lose focus of the world around me and let my guard down; which was fine, until it wasn’t.
I had been so distracted pan searing the chicken that even with my heightened hearing I had not heard Azriel’s approaching footsteps, he leaned against the archway the led into the kitchen from the dining room silently as I hummed and began plating the chicken; I had been cutting the lemon into a smaller sections to drizzle it over the chicken, knife in hand I turned around to drizzle it on the plate when I heard the smallest of noises from the male. I jumped and spun towards the noise, the knife in my hand thunked into the wall an inch from where Azriel had just been leaning his head as I threw it.
His eyes widened as he jumped away from the wall. “Mother, save me, efficiently deadly even when off guard.”
I clasped at my chest as I panted loudly trying to catch my breath after being startled. “Fuck me! Azriel! Warn a lady!”
He mumbled “I'm trying.” Before actually apologizing for scaring me.
He slid his way onto a barstool and I pushed the plate towards him, he looked between the plate and me before he cut a small piece of the chicken off. He stared at the small piece of chicken and then looked back up to me, with a small nod from me he swallowed the small piece and I could see all the emotions cross his face as he began to scarf down the rest of the small piece. His wings flared ever so slightly as he bit into the last piece on his plate and I rounded the small island, pressing myself between his massive wings, a gesture to sooth him as I felt the cooling air he normally gave off grow in temperature and sweat began to form on his brow line. Then he had finally swallowed the last piece and chugged the small glass of water I had set out to accompany his meal, I had ran my hands over his shoulders and wrapped them loosely around his neck; His hand reached up and grabbed mine before he was pulling me off him and spinning around, capturing me in a tight hug as he pressed his lips to mine. With a growl he was pulling me down the maze of halls and then we had finally reached the set of familiar large grand doors with swirls and lines that reminded me of his shadows carved into them, the small royal blue rug he used as a welcome mat slid under our feet as he pulled me into another kiss while pressing me against the door.
He had managed to pull away enough to fumble with the door knob and finally open the door, his room greeted me with the gorgeous ash colored wooden decor accented in that same blue that matched his siphons. I took a few steps inside, he followed right behind, his shadows closing the door behind us with a click; he wrapped himself around me and his lips found purchase on my neck. I could feel everything coursing through him down the bond, my own emotions, hormones, and instincts beginning to scream louder and louder over any clear thoughts I was having. His scarred hands ,that I had found as a beautiful testament to all he had been through, ran under the soft material of the blue shirt and left goosebumps in its path.
He slipped the shirt off over my head and spun me to face him as he dropped to his knees, pressing several open mouthed kisses to the spattering of scars that adorned my skin. The last coherent thought I had before I lost myself to the haze of the bond was that one day I would kiss over every scar that littered his own skin like he had done with mine, I’d do it as an act of devotion when he thought he wasn’t deserving of anything good in his life.
He pushed me towards his bed, bedecked in blue silk sheets, till I finally fell back on it and he was right there at the foot of it slipping my boots off. He threw them somewhere across the room and then turned back to me with lust blown eyes, I ran my hand across his jaw line and leaned down to press a kiss against his lips; he replied with a soft moan and as he pulled away he began slipping the pants down my legs, ripping the only covering left on my body like the feral beast he currently was. His fingertips dug into the skin of my thighs as he held them apart, licking his lips with a smirk as he lapped from me like a stray hound. I can’t remember how long we were there but he repeatedly brought me crashing down over the edge on his tongue and fingers, the haze cleared ever so slightly as he threw me further up his bed and settled himself between my hips; my legs wrapped around his hips as he nipped at my neck and throat, a moan fell from my lips as he came to rest the head of his cock against my opening.
My mouth fell open as he sheathed himself inside me, capturing my lips in his as the moan I screamed echoed off the walls of his room. My legs tightened around his hips holding him close to me as I adjusted to his size, I wasn’t a lady by any means, I had fooled around with the males in the barracks occasionally when tensions were running high after some stressful patrol or hunt but they were all nothing in comparison to the sheer mix of Azriel’s girth and length. While with my newfound growth spurt the stretch didn’t particularly hurt it was still an adjustment, my mind wandered to those nights my mind had drifted to imagining him between my legs instead of my own hand. Azriel’s name was like a prayer falling from my lips as he slammed himself into me, our moans and pants mixing together as we called out each other's names. We were there, slotted together for what felt like ages until his hips stuttered and his wings flared, finally coming undone inside of me after he had brought me repeatedly to the edge and past it.
As he finally released inside of me, I felt the bond in our chest sing as it solidified and could then feel every ounce of pleasure he had received, if the growl that escaped his throat was any indication of him being able to feel my own, the pride he sent my way was. He finally pulled himself away from me and moved to stand, placing a kiss to my lips that I returned eagerly as he stepped into the attached bathroom. Exhaustion slowly started to come over me as I awaited the male, he returned to me and I couldn't help myself but to pull him back on top of me with another heated kiss.
He let out a mix of a growl and a laugh. “Look if we keep going down this track the bath I just drew for us will be cold by the time we are actually able to return to it.”
I sighed and relented, letting him carry me to the bathroom where with his help we both sunk into the warm clear water. He held me against his chest and began to run his fingers through my hair as he hummed a soft melody, I started to drift off with my head on his shoulder and he happily let me. He woke me when the water started to get cold, stepping out before me he wrapped a towel around his waist then helping me out and wrapping my own towel around me. My legs were still semi-shaky so he happily elected to carry me back to the bed, dropping both towels at the foot of the bed; he pulled back the sheets letting me crawl under them he followed behind me, pulling me to his chest we managed to get a few hours of sleep before he was slotting himself back between my legs and my hands found purchase at the spot where the membrane of his wings met his skin. The moan that left his mouth as he shuddered above me would never leave my thoughts, neither would the sensitivity of his wings.
It took us about two weeks before we were able to leave the confines of his room, finally going back to training was a relief especially after we had moved my belongings into his room earlier that morning. However Azriel was still overly territorial of me so Cassian found himself pouting as he sparred with Rhys. We had kept that routine until Azriel’s territorial behavior had lessened as long as I was within eyesight, Rhys was finally able to teach me how to control my mental shield and prevent daemati attacks. I had become a natural quickly between training with Rhys and sparring with Azriel as he furthered my teachings on fighting, we were in the middle of sparring when Rhys announced the boys would need to fetch Feyre and the friend that was accompanying her out of Spring Court. I had kissed Azriel goodbye and wished him well as he and Cassian took to the sky, I had decided to take the opportunity to fully explore the house; I had either been too entertained in Azriel, injured, or busy to fully explore it earlier.
I pushed a semi-large door open to be greeted with isles of bookshelves, a hearth that wasn’t lit, a long table with many chairs, and a few small loveseats in front of the hearth with a small coffee table and rug. Inside sat Nesta, who scowled at me, a handful of books whose genre matched what she and Elain enjoyed reading; I had no doubt she was reading them to Elain, Rhys had kept me updated on my sister's conditions.
“Sister…” A half-hearted acknowledgement as she turned back to the isles picking another book out.
“Nes! You look good! You could eat a bit more but-”I happily circled her taking her in before she cut me off.
“You look like you’ve adjusted to this life well.” It was a bitter acknowledgement that I did indeed look and act better than both her and Elain did right now.
“Well, Yes I have, Azriel has been a great help with everything-” She started towards the exit and I followed behind her.
“Well, you were always the wild one, I suppose it's fitting for the beast to feel at home amongst them.” I stopped in my tracks and she pushed her way out of the library.
“Nes..” I reached out for her but the door shut without her even looking back.
I tried to block my emotions from flooding Azriel while he was on the mission, simply sighing and turning back to the shelves around me; I plucked a random book from a shelf and made my way back to Azriel and I’s room, our room. The comforting shadows carved into his door were a happy sight as I oh so elegantly threw myself onto the black loveseat he had moved from my room into here, grabbing a fur blanket I made myself at home on the small couch with my book and some tea graciously provided to me by the house. Maybe once Feyre was back it would knock some sense into Nesta and Elain, I could hope at least.
I felt a calling from the bond an hour later, Azriel had made it back with Cassian, Feyre, and that red-headed male that had stepped towards Elain. I bounded up the stairs, racing through the halls and then finally slid into the living room. Feyre was wrapped in Rhys’s arms and I threw myself into Azriel’s welcoming him back with a kiss, Feyre whipped her head around to look at us; Rhys hadn’t told her we had accepted the bond yet, so when she found out she happily congratulated us. I pulled her into a crushing hug, which she tapped out of just as Rhys had called a meeting that had the entire inner circle making their way into the sitting room with us.
Mor happily smiled and waved at me, she had watched me spar with Az and train with Rhys and when the boys just needed to absolutely deck each other she would lead me up one balcony to where her and Amren set up a small little tanning spot. Amren, while Azriel had described her as this terrifying creature based on the energy she gave off, had only ever seemed as an equal to me. I had never felt that overwhelming power like the boys had described to me, she gave me a small smile and sat on the other side of me. While tucked into Azriel’s side with Amren’s foot touching my own in a comfortable silence, Nesta and Elain finally entered the room. It was a long night but eventually after a heated argument between my sisters everyone was dismissed, my sisters being allowed to keep to their own devices.
Azriel was sparring with Cassian and I had found myself holed up in Amren’s apartment with her doing puzzles when we had gotten an emergency call from Rhys. Amren and I both sped out of her apartment and we were off towards the mountain house, Azriel and Cassian picking us up and bringing us up the stairs to save us some time. We had been informed of the break in to the library, Amren and I were both on edge this understanding between us, when one was on edge then the other was too. Rhysand had asked her to comb through the rest of Velaris that night to see if any other uninvited guests were hidden amongst us, Amren invited me with her and I happily agreed. Azriel covered me with my furs and cloak and kissed my forehead as I set off to join Amren in this makeshift hunt.
It seemed like a back to back eventful week, I had crawled back into bed beside Azriel extremely late at night or extremely early in the morning depending on how you looked at it and it felt like I had just fallen asleep when Azriel awoke me in an emergency. Azriel had hurriedly told me Adriata was under attack and I slipped into the leathers Azriel had made for me adding my furs and cloak back onto my shoulder, next thing I know I’m in the bloodied streets of Adriata beside Mor and Feyre, Azriel and Cassian somewhere in the skies with whatever other forces Rhys had scrounge together on such short notice. I had been pulled into a hallway by someone whose armor I recognized as the enemy held me in a chokehold and I couldn’t get a grip on them due to how they had my arms restrained, an idea graced me as their arm rubbed against my face in my struggle. I growled before opening my mouth and latching my sharpened teeth into their arm, they screamed and relaxed their grip; it was enough of a give I was able to tear my mouth away from their arm and turn on them before tearing their head from their shoulders, a trick Amren had taught me. I rejoined their side and they both gave me a look that questioned if I was okay without the words leaving their mouth.
Then we were back home, and I was more than thankful to rinse the blood from my face. Nesta seemed to be coming around slowly as she worked with Amren, Elian was still pale and distant but was slowly coming around with Nuala and Cerridwen. Everything had seemed like it was going okay when Rhys and my sister finally announced the meeting with the rest of the high lords. I stayed beside Azriel the entire time we were there, it had seemed like negotiations were going fairly okay, yes there was people acting suspicious of others but with a war on the horizon who wouldn’t be suspicious of others, until Eris had opened his mouth about what had happened to Mor; she had confided in me what had happened one day when I had seen the scars while we were tanning, Eris’s words had enraged me and Azriel as well. If I hadn’t been enraged I was sure Azriel could have kept his composure if it wasn’t for my added emotions screaming down the bond.
Azriel reached across the table and had decked Eris, I stood from my own chair when Eris had landed a hit against Azriel’s cheek; a growl had ust echoed from my chest when the fight was called off. That had been the start of the downwards spiral of the first day of the meeting, Tamlin showing up and portraying my sister the way he did was enough for Azriel to defend her and when Azriel was dismissed out of hand it took everything I had in me to not rip Tamlin’s throat out; thankfully I was still able to threaten to do it. With tensions so high the first day of the meeting was called, the rest of the circle retired to our quarters with Helion in tow.
The second day started out alright, we all thought all tensions or issues had been aired, by the mother were we wrong. Interrupting us in the middle of a thought Nesta had screamed while the hairs on the back of my neck raised and we heard a loud crackle and roar, the color had drained from everyone’s faces as we realized what that had meant, the wall had fallen.
It had been months of war, fight after fight had everyone exhausted, and we all knew the last leg of the fight was nearing. Elain had been kidnapped by the cauldron, Nesta felt like she was guilty for opening the bridge that had let that happen; Azriel had calmed me while I destroyed the inside of the tent we all stood in at the news she had been taken, had let me get the anger that I failed to protect both of my younger sisters now. Then Feyre was concocting a plan and going into the enemy camp as Ianthe, Feyre was rescuing Elain while also rescuing an additional person with the help of Tamlin and Jurian. It was only after this we had found out Juriuan was a spy and was actually on our side, but they wouldn’t make it out with the naga-hounds on their tails and Azriel had to help rescue them. I had been panicked enough at the thought of my sisters in danger but from across the hills I watched as a naga-hound had sunk its fangs into Azriel’s wings, the scream that left me was gut wrenching as I felt the pure pain my mate was in.
Finally everyone was back in the camp, Azriel in the med-tent being cared for by Madja the thought of losing his ability to fly due to permanent damage to his wings looming over both of our heads. I knew how much flying meant to him, but the final day of the fight was upon us and I wasn’t going to let my sisters be on that field without me. I had come face to face with the weaver while I was out on the field, she had stopped and acknowledged me with a small smirk before she continued on her bloody rampage. Bryaxis and the Carver were there as well, I had crossed paths with them once or twice, and we had covered each other's back, why they had done it? I haven't a clue, but I assumed they recognized the rage beginning to boil under my skin, that had finally started to rear its head as I ripped those that opposed me apart. Whatever it was that lurked under my skin snapped as I heard Nesta scream, my vision blurred and I felt that terrible snap of my bones as I blindly ran towards my sisters.
It was as my vision cleared that I truly recognized what my gift from the cauldron was, what I had agreed to in the depths of the cauldron when faced with the beast that lurked there. I loomed over the fae scattered about the grounds around me, some shrieked in horror others stood stunned, I felt something thrashing against my mouth and gritted my teeth, biting down i felt the familiar crunch of bones yet it was all so different as a scream erupted and the taste of blood filled my mouth. I had become the same beast I faced inside the cauldron, I felt the energy that thrummed through me as I raced towards where I felt my sisters. As I reached the top of the hill I saw our father there, when had he joined the battle? How long had I been enraged?
Cassian was there too, Nesta covering his body wit her own, and the King had a sickening smirk on his face. My father stood between Nesta and the King, a pit formed in my stomach as read filled me, one paw in front of the other I tried to force my body forward. Before I can blink the King has my father’s head in his grasp, a sickening snap has me charging forward as our father slumps to the floor. A blur of movement, as my vision begins to blur again, then I’m towering over the King. I hear Elain scream as they snap closed around the King and his headless body slumps to the ground beside our fathers, his blood tasted bitter and I feel the crunch of his skull collapsing in on itself within my mouth. I let it fall from my mouth and watch as it awkwardly rolls a few inches from where it had hit the ground. Elain has a bag of medical supplies and moves to stand by Nesta and Elain, our eyes catch on eachother and there's an understanding there, they recognize me.
“Sister…’Elain barely mumbles it.
I stand in shock before I feel the bones in my body cracking again, exhaustion crashes into me and I’m back in my fae body. I can’t even take a step before I’m collapsing and hearing yet another heartbroken scream from across the field, my vision blurs like that time back in the throne room after the cauldron.
I hear murmuring when I finally come back too, based on the smell and colors I’m able to figure out I’m in the med tent. Azriel is in the bed to my left, still healing from his wounds the hounds caused. He looks like he's been crying and I try to push myself up to comfort him, all the voices silence all at once; the rest of the circle stands around me and Azriel, Madja helps me sit up and it's only then I realize it's not only me and Azriel there, Cassian is in a cot across from Azriel and Amren in one across from me and Rhys is being looked over while he sits on a stool in the center of the four of us.
It's Azriel’s voice that finds its way to me first. “Hey Wildling, good to see you awake, take it easy. You overdid it out there, but you still did it, you took the king down. According to Cass, you ripped his head straight off his body. Good job Love.”
It's a bitter smile in his voice. “I remember that, what happened after? It's all a blur.”
Cassian's astonished laugh is my answer “You ripped his head off, ended the whole thing, then you changed back from whatever that huge creature version of you was and passed out.”
“It's what I saw when I went under in the cauldron. That beast is my gift, I guess.” I dryly answered back, still sore from the pain in my bones.
It was then after we had cleared up what had happened with me, with the king did Feyre, Rhys, and Amren tell us what all else happened. Rhys had died, Feyre had felt the bond break and begged the lords to give him his life back. Amren had sacrificed herself for us too, she technically had died, sacrificed the ancient part of herself and was now just a regular high fae. Our father was dead, and the war was over. Life could somewhat return to normal, and I was grateful.
Finally Solstice was rolling around and everyone could breath somewhat normally, Azriel and Cassian had both healed nicely. Azriel and I had grown even closer and stronger, we had thrown around the idea that sometime after the solstice we would do an actual ceremony that mated fae did when they decided to marry. I had been ecstatic, we had cried the night he suggested it and had made love for hours, staying in bed the next day till well after the sun was over the mountain.
I had managed to get some time to do solstice shopping today since Azriel was out on a mission from Rhys, he said he would be back before dinner tonight. It had felt like I had searched every shop, yet I still couldn't find something for Azriel. Everyone else I had gotten something, even Nesta though I knew it was unlikely she'd be there with her current habits; she had asked to be left alone so I left her alone.
For Mor I had found a pretty red night dress that was incredibly thin and strappy with a slit that easily would’ve reached her navel, for Amren a pair of sapphire earrings with a matching bracelet set, for Cassian a set of training wraps for his hands as he had taken to complaining about the new scars there bugging him, for Rhys a set of small purple cufflinks, Elain a book I had found talking about gardens and plant life throughout the courts, Feyre I had got a set of canvases made from incredibly nice materials and the stuff to make your own p[aint like she had when we were younger, Nesta a collectors set of books she had often read as a child i had to admit I asked Rhysand to get them from the human lands for me, but Azriel? I was clueless. When asked he said he wanted nothing, but by the mother I was going to get him something. It was only after I turned into another shop that I spied the smallest thing in a glass case out of the corner of my eyes.
Elain had asked if a tonic for his headaches from Madja would be a good gift, as the male did often battle headaches from his terrible sleep regime. There was one thing he complained about, especially more often now that the colder months were approaching; the scars on his hands would often become sore, sometimes they would become so painful he couldn’t spar or even write. In a small glass case I spied a silk pair of gloves, I knew there was an enchanter in Velaris and was quick to purchase the soft gloves. I wanted to get him soft gloves so they wouldn’t catch on the scars, a bell ringed above me as I pushed the door to the enchanter open. An older male greeted me, and I passed him the gloves explaining what kind of enchantment I wanted to put on them; he nodded knowingly and brought them into the back to get to work, he returned them to me half an hour later folded and wrapped in blue tissue paper. I thanked him cheerily and paid him generously for his work.
Back at home I sat criss-cross on the floor, wrapping the gifts in shimmery black paper and wrapping them with blue bows. Eventually calling Rhys to hide them away with the rest of the presents like Azriel had told me to do. I decided to take a nap on the couch and Azriel had returned right on cue, well before dinner was to start. We made our way to the townhouse for dinner that was beginning to be decorated for solstice, after everyone had ate and said their goodnights Azriel swept me into the air; a tradition we had started after family dinners was to go on a flight across Velaris, I’d be clutched tight against Azriel’s chest as we soared above the city and finally back to the house on top of the mountain. I had happily curled up on his side that night as the solstice crept closer.
When finally the day of solstice had come around, Azriel had brought me down to the town house, kissed me goodbye, and informed me he would be back before dinner. The other two illyrian males disappeared with him, and I helped my sisters with preparations. Mor and Feyre disappeared together for a few hours, it was well after noon when everyone had finally returned from their little snowball fight; Rhys and Cassian were pouting as they kicked the snow off their boots upon entering the town house. My mate proudly walked in behind them, head held high, very obviously the winner. I pressed a kiss to his lips and congratulated him and in response he deepened it, slipping his tongue into his my mouth for a second before Rhys and Cassian were faking gagging noises.
Eventually the time for presents rolled around and everyone had started exchanging gifts, then Nesta had showed up in a pretty rough condition. I hugged her and pulled her to sit beside me, pressing the boxes from Elain and I into her hands; tears had welled in her eyes when she saw what I had gotten her but she caught herself before they fell and simply thanked me with a hug. Everyone else exchanged presents, save for a few of us mates, Rhys and Feyre hadnt publicly exchanged gifts and neither had Az and I. We celebrated Feyre’s birthday and then Az and I went out to Elain’s gardens, which had been decorated with strings of faelights. I asked Az if I could give him my gift first, to which he easily agreed and I presented him with the gloves. He slipped them on over his hands and tears found themselves in his eyes as he thanked me and peppered me with kisses, eventually he composed himself and asked me to close my eyes to which I agreed.
I heard a crunch as he shifted around in his spot, “Alright, open them.”
Tears filled my eyes at the sight in front of me, Azriel was kneeled in front of me, a ring box presented out to me.
“I know we already discussed this and both agreed to it, but I hadn’t got you a ring to symbolize it yet.Happy Solstice my wildling.” He stood and slipped the ring onto my finger.
We had returned inside to find everyone else passed out or in their room,we slipped into ours just like everyone else.
A few months later Feyre was announcing her pregnancy, we had all celebrated together and that night had flipped a switch in Azriel, neither of us had really known the male had a thing for breeding until the thought of us being in Feyre and Rhys’ position had crossed his thoughts, that night was filled with breathy moans and the sound of skin pounding against skin. Yet the simple act was enough to satiate Azriel’s hunger, to satiate us both really.
Feyre had a difficult pregnancy but pulled through, Nesta sacrificed her powers to save Feyre’s life and before we knew it. Feyre was pregnant with her second and Azriel became hungrier and more feral when he fucked me, claiming his instincts were screaming at him to repeatedly fill me.
It had all been okay until Nesta and Casssian had their first born, a whole new side to Azriel unlocked. I had never seen Azriel as jealous as he was the day we all sat around the living room, the infant in Nesta’s arms and Cassian leaning over her shoulder to wiggle his finger at the small girl whose wings flapped happily. Nyx was six at the time and had eagerly climbed into my head to hug me, ever the affectionate child unlike his sister who wanted nothing to do with anyone since her birth. Azriel’s eyes caught on me holding and rocking the six year old and I felt the pride roll down the bond from him, I sent him a joyous wave back.
It was only when Cassian and Nesta passed me their daughter did I really feel how jealous Azriel had become of the little families his brothers had crafted. As the small girl placed her tiny hand around my own an dI began to tear up as she smiled happily at me with the biggest grin on her face, I looked over to Az and saw the emotion in his eyes, a mix of lust, jealousy, and pride. I offered the small babe to him and he took her in his massive hands, adorned with the silk gloves I had bought him all those years ago. She wrapped her hand around one of his fingers and he looked up at me with massive puppy dog eyes.
Azriel’s birthday approached quickly, and I knew above all else there was thing he wanted for his birthday. I had felt it enough through the bond, every time he would see his brothers with their small families a small wave of jealousy and want would be sent through to me. Cassian’s daughter had just started walking, took her first steps today because she had wanted her father and he was just out of her reach on the couch, Azriel had been witness as she threw herself in Cassian’s arms; he had come down to our room that night upset, had cried in my arms how he had wanted what they have. It wasn’t that we were doing anything to prevent a pregnancy but when both of my sisters had conceived they had taken potions to boost their fertility. Which led me to Azriel’s birthday gift and the current appointment I had with Madja.
With the potion secured the day of his birthday, thanks to Rhys’s wonderful distraction, I was able to wrap it in a small box and hide it within our room. After hiding it I had made it back to the kitchens just as Rhys and Azriel had returned, Azriel pressed a kiss to my lips and Nyx had run in and threw himself onto Az in a bear hug. It was an endearing sight that had me hoping that with the addition of the potion Madja had made me soon enough our own son would be doing that to his father.
Dinner had gone off without a hitch, Nyx and his 4 year old sister Aurora lit up the table with their argument over whether or not Helion’s pegasi hatched from eggs like birds or were live births like horses. Nyx was getting fed up with Aurora's egg theory since he had asked ‘Grandpa Helion’ himself last time they had gone there, Arora was 2 and he had been 6 so of course he knew what he was talking about. Rhysand was rubbing his temples in agony, apparently the children had been having this argument all day, and wouldn’t let any adult butt in and settle it.
Eventually all the kids tired themselves out and everyone started toting them to their rooms, Rhys had hugged AZriel wishing him a goodnight, Feyre taking the chance to whisper to me a goodluck with a wink her mate not far behind her with a smirk and a nod in my direction as they headed off for their wing of the manor. Cassian and Neesta had left almost right after cake due to their daughter completely crashing and passing out at the table in her high chair.
Azriel smiled and let out a soft sigh. “Thank you for planning this love, it was a nice night.” he placed a kiss to my temple with a small content hum.
“It only gets better from here Az.” I smirked and he wiggled his brows in response.
“Oh yeah?” a smirk flitted onto his features.
“Yep. Still have to give you your present.” I nodded smugly and started pulling him towards our chambers.
He followed , curiosity evident as he tried to repeatedly guess what I had gotten him, guess after guess fell from his lips. Before Madja would give me the potion she had to check and make sure that if I managed to conceive it wouldn’t be a risk to my health since I didn’t have the magical benefit from Nesta’s powers that my sisters did, but thank the cauldron literally, because when it gave me my gift the growth spurt affected all of my bones including my hips so I was safe to carry his child. We made it into our room, my furs hung up on a coat rack beside the wing-suited coat I had got him last solstice and beside them a end table we used as a catch-all. I had hidden it here in the drawer because we always just threw stuff on top of it and went on collapsing into bed at night after rough missions.
He furrowed his brow as I pulled the box out and handed it to him, I gestured for him to open the small box and he stilled when he saw the small vial.
His eyes darted between me and the vial, tears began to well in his eyes. “Is this…”
He had to bite back a sob so I finished the thought for him. “The fertility boost both my sisters used when they conceived? Yeah it is, I finally got approved by Madja for it.”
He dropped to his knees holding the vial and sobbing. “Thank you, my wildling, thank you.”
I took a few steps towards him prompting him to stand up and pulled him into a deep hug, until he composed himself and stopped crying.
He handed me and the vial with a pleading look on his face. “Can we use it tonight?”
I took it from him and popped the cork out of the small bottle, shooting the terrible tasting liquid into my mouth. I wiped my mouth as I smirked back at him. “That's the plan shadowsinger.”
His shadows curled happily around my feet as I pulled him into a deep kiss, slowly coaxing him farther and farther into our room as I managed to strip his clothes from him. Then when we had finally gotten close enough to the bed, I pulled him down on top of me while I nipped at his jawline. I could feel the effects of the potion slowly start taking effect, I had been told it would increase the amount of lubricant my body produced as well as a dull throbbing ache within my ovaries and uterus.
Azriel realized fairly quickly he was the only naked one and ripped my clothes from my body, his head dropped to my core and he buried his tongue inside of, bringing me to orgasm a handful of times. Eventually satisfied with the taste of me on his tongue, he buried himself to the hilt inside of me and I could feel the tip of him kiss my cervix. I screamed his name until my throat was hoarse that night, only soothed when he had spilled a handful of times into me and finally pulled out only to replace my dripping cunt with my mouth instead.
We slept in the entirety of the next day, either wrapped up in each other as the potion boosted fertility for 48 hours, or sleeping and recovering some energy; though there had been many times we had fallen asleep together with him still buried deep inside of me so as not to waste anything. I had made a promise with Madja that I'd start checking in with her weekly after the potion was consumed and the effects had come and gone, so if I was to get pregnant from this night, we would catch it as early as possible to start me on the correct vitamins and set up a care plan immediately.
As I laid there in Azriel’s arms I could only hope that thanks to the potions help his seed would take root and I would be able to grant him this one small thing he so desperately deserved. His snores lulled me into my own sleep and in my heart were that bond sung and glowed brightly I had a feeling the intended result would in fact take root.
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symptoms and causes | ch. 12
ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader
ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.
ღ wc 15.7 k
ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature and dark themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst w happy ending, family drama, panic attacks, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.
ღ author's note hey u pretty people !! hope you're all doing amazing and having the absolute best day. we're back with more drama, messy feelings, and all that good stuff. also, i've updated the trigger warnings (nothing too heavy, promise), but just a heads up that we'll be dealing with some family drama and grief in this one. as always, can't wait to hear what you guys think & thanks for reading and for your amazing support (art by yamada_souko) <3
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You're a slut.
The words hammered in your skull, matching the aneurysm's grotesque pulse in front of you. Another scalpel slipped into Suguru's waiting hand. Your hands moved mechanically, muscle memory guiding them more than conscious thought.
Normally, that aneurysm would thrill you, excite you, make your pulse quicken. Now, it felt oddly muted. Irrelevant compared to your spiraling thoughts.
You hate him.
You should hate him.
With every fiber of your being, you should despise him.
He pushed you away, again and again, even after that night — after you spilled your heart at his feet. He chose the pills, the numbing haze, the false comfort, the self-serving lies — his fear.
In the end he chose his addiction over fighting against it alongside you. His addiction had won out over the fragile connection you shared — had won over you.
And that was a bitter pill to swallow.
He made his choice.
And you made yours — to get space, give him space, give it all some space — time — whatever this damn situation needed, you tried to give it, even though it felt like carving out pieces of yourself.
You didn't know it anymore, simply didn't know what was right anymore.
It had been weeks, but the memory of finding him, barely breathing on his bathroom floor, lingered as a physical ache within you. That image refused to fade.
It was a wound time couldn't heal, a brutal reminder of his choice, of your own, of the love that had become a war you weren't sure you could win.
You weren't sure of anything anymore.
But one thing way painfully clear. Whatever you did, it was all just really a futile, desperate attempt to patch the gaping hole he'd ripped in your heart.
But how could you?
How could you stay away, act indifferent, when every second burned without him?
He's probably high right now, swallowing a pill, grading papers like the perfect professor, so damn good at pretending he has it together while crumbling beneath the surface.
Back to his routine of fake control.
But he has no control.
None.
Forget him. You shouldn't think that. It has to be possible, right? Somehow, forgetting someone must be possible, right? Erasing the memory of him from your veins, from every damn breath you take?
Because if not — how could you possibly go on?
Cruel memories flayed you open. His hand against your cheek, the touch so gentle it made something inside you crumble, even after he literally insulted you in the worst ways possible while fucking you.
But still, the way he'd look at you after — there was a flicker of something desperate and broken burning in his eyes, before he slammed that damn false smile back into place. Your heart clenched at the very thought of it, a fist squeezing something vital and already dead.
But the truth is, you didn't really hate him. No, not really.
Because how could you?
How could you hate him for trying to fix things the only way he knew how?
No.
Not really.
He was a coward, too scared to face his fears, too weak to choose fighting alongside you over the fleeting comfort of his addiction.
No, it was not hatred.
Understanding him made it worse. It twisted the knife deeper, making the hatred you clung to feel empty, useless, leaving only the bitter sting of disappointment.
Somehow, knowing someone's damage made them less a monster, more a tragedy.
Unfair, isn't it?
Because hating him would be easier.
"You okay?" Suguru's voice broke through your haze.
"I'm fine." Zoning out while someone's life hung in the balance was a new low, even for you. You met his gaze. "Sorry."
The stark reality of the situation slammed back into focus. The aneurysm, a grotesque bulge on the screen, pulsed tauntingly. Suguru's skilled hands steadied the fragile tissue around it.
"Want to continue?"
You blinked, unsure if he was joking. "You want me to clip it?"
"It's a gift."
"Gift? From who?"
Suguru arched an eyebrow, a silent answer. Of course. This was Satoru's doing. It was his way, wasn't it? Speaking of unconventional presents.
But he undoubtedly knew you.
Before you could fully process, Suguru added. "And because I trust you. I wouldn't offer if I didn't."
Your gaze was drawn back to the aneurysm. "Okay," you said, the decision settling with surprising ease.
You slid into place in front of the surgical microscope. Suguru moved just behind you to monitor your movements. You took a deep breath, the instruments feeling strangely cold and foreign in your hands.
"Focus," Suguru's low voice rumbled close beside you. "You've got this."
Somehow, with the clip in your hand, the delicate aneurism between your hands, you wondered if Satoru was right — if you loved the thrill of it all — if him and you were the same.
If that maddening fascination bound you together.
Because as you stared down at the aneurysm, you couldn't deny it — the rush, the adrenaline surge that came from defying death, the intoxicating high of existing on the razor's edge, it was all there, coursing through your veins.
Were you reckless?
Satoru's accusation echoed in your mind.
Yet, with each precise maneuver, the thrill intensified. There was a sick satisfaction in holding that much power, in the knowledge that one wrong move and this fragile existence could be snuffed out in an instant.
Here, in the sterile confines of the operating room, adrenaline replaced oxygen.
And it was undeniably addictive.
Too bad it wasn't enough for Satoru.
"Suguru," you began, your words barely a whisper as you meticulously guided the clip, "do you ever think I'm...reckless?"
"Should I be worried that you're pondering this while inches deep in someone's brain?"
"Forget it," you muttered. "Just a fleeting thought."
With a satisfying click, the clip snapped shut.
─── ·✧· ───
The water was unusual frigid against your skin.
Suguru scrubbed his hands beside you, the methodical rasp of skin on skin a familiar sound a in the echoing washroom. Finally, he spoke. "I'm proud of you."
"Huh?" You turned to him.
"How far you've come. Really, you're doing a great job. With the surgery, the research—you have a great future ahead of you."
He meant it kindly, you knew. But his words made your stomach churn. A bright, promising future was the last thing on your mind. Surviving the next hour, the next day, that was your only focus. You mustered a weak smile in response and adverted your gaze.
"How are you doing? Really?"
You couldn't meet his gaze. "Holding up. Somehow."
He observed you. You could feel his concerned gaze on your skin without having to turn your head.
"New semester treating you okay?"
"Bit stressful," you admitted. "I have to retake a few exams."
"Listen, if you need any help—"
"Thank you, Suguru," you cut him off, turning the faucet with a harsh click off. "But unless you're offering to take my tests for me, I'm afraid this is on me."
You turned and reached for a towel, desperately needing to put something, anything, between you and his pitying gaze.
He paused, then shut off his own water with a sigh. "I'm sorry things turned out like this for you," he said, and you hated the sincerity in his voice. "But it's for the best, for him and for you. We did what we had to."
We?
"Wait, what do you mean?"
Suguru reached for a towel. "Hm?"
"What do you mean with, 'we'?"
He froze mid-movement, jaw tightening.
Your stomach twisted. Something in his silence, in the way he wouldn't meet your gaze—
Your hands braced against the sink, knuckles white against the cold porcelain. "What did you and Satoru talk about that night? The night before the hearing? I know he was with you."
"It's nothing important. He was confused, and I helped him clear his head."
"What does that mean? What did you say to him?"
Suguru's silence was the loudest answer, the pity in his eyes a searing poison. With a sickening clarity, it all fell into place — Satoru's sudden surrender, the way he'd looked at you in the hearing, empty and broken.
"Tell me what the fuck you said to him!"
"Isn't it obvious?" he said, the cruelty finally unveiled. "I told him to end this. That it would destroy you, and that he should take responsibility for once!"
The ground tilted.
He'd convinced Satoru to let you go.
He'd single-handedly shattered the fragile trust you'd clawed back with Satoru, the possibility of fighting this together — gone. All it took was Suguru to destroy it all.
Betrayal burned in your throat.
Satoru may have wielded the knife, but Suguru had guided his hand.
"You had no right," you choked out. "You had no fucking right to do that!"
"No right?" Suguru's voice rose to match yours. "And watch you both go down? Satoru was a ticking time bomb! It was better this way—better him destroyed than you dragged down with him."
"I had him, Suguru!" you shouted. "I almost had him trusting me enough, trusting us enough, to let me help him, damn it!"
"You're delusional. He can't change. You know that. It would always have ended like this."
"My god, I can't believe your audacity!" You spat the words, raw and dripping with fury. It masked the deeper ache, the knowledge that he wasn't entirely wrong. "You ruined everything!"
Suguru's jaw tightened. He moved closer, his imposing presence forcing you back a pace. "You know how many times I've seen this play out? The promises to change? I've seen it too often. He won't get better, and I won't let him drag you under with him. Not you."
Your retreat ended abruptly, your back hitting the cool porcelain of the sink. He remained close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hand reached out, a single fingertip tracing your jawline in a gesture at odds with the harshness of his words.
"This is for the best," he insisted, his voice rough. "You're young, brilliant. This—relationship with Satoru, it would have ruined you."
"Don't you dare," you hissed, slapping his hand away. "You have no right to decide what's best for me."
"Yes, I do. Because I was the one who got you here in the first place, it was my doing, and I—" he trailed off, his voice softening. "I don't want to see you hurt."
"Why are you saying this now?"
"You know damn well why."
His words hung in the air, suffocating, sour.
Months of shared research, of seeing Suguru as a mentor, then a friend—
Suguru destroying your fragile connection with Satoru felt like an unforgivable violation. You knew it wasn't just him. But the pain of it all was too much, clouding your thoughts.
You slowly shook your head, unwilling to accept what he just said, unwilling to even comprehend the implications.
"No," you forced the word out. "You can't—"
"Yeah, I know. You don't have to tell me that."
Then, a sharp beep shattered the suffocating tension. Suguru swore under his breath, retrieving his pager. His face went taut as he read the message.
"What is it?"
"Yaga," he said. "Wants to see us. Now."
He met your gaze, dread coiling in your gut. This couldn't be good.
"Why?"
"I...I don't know. But we should go. Come on."
─── ·✧· ───
"You want me to redo a study that was completely pointless?"
Your question rang through the oppressive silence of Yaga's office. Suguru sat beside you, but his presence offered no comfort against Yaga's piercing gaze.
Your fingers clawed into the paper files in front of you.
Useless words, wasted effort.
You didn't need to reread them. They were your own words, your own data after all. Your own carefully crafted research project. But it led nowhere. Insignificant results. Pointless.
The pain that these papers in your hand causes was sharper than any scalpel, a wound no surgery could mend. Because this research was fueled by grief. Grief for your father, lost to the cruel, invasive brain tumor that now mocked you from the pages.
But it was this very research that had gotten you here.
It caught Suguru's attention, led to his mentorship, and through him — to Satoru. How perverse that your most agonizing vulnerability had opened this door, led you to a love that felt as cursed as your research.
Cruel.
Being forced to revisit this failure, now of all times — it felt like a cruel joke. Your life, it seemed, was a master of cruelty, stripping you bare then pouring acid on the raw wounds.
"Yes," Yaga's voice was devoid of any empathy.
"The results were inconclusive. A dead end," you said.
Yaga sighed. "Your research held promise, Dr. Geto never failed to remind me. Now, you have better resources, better support. You can refine it, perfect it."
You glanced at Suguru. The flicker of regret in his eyes was another betrayal you cataloged for later. Facing Yaga again, you tightened your grip on the file until your knuckles ached. You slammed it shut, fighting the urge to tear it to shreds.
"That's not the point. My CAR-T-Therapy research was theoretical, a mathematical model that was inherently flawed. All the best equipment in the world won't change that. It's a black hole."
Yaga leaned forward. "Listen, we have a—generous donor. I think you met her at the conference? She took quite a liking to you." He paused. "Her husband recently succumbed to this very type of tumor."
My god.
Cold sweat broke out on your skin. You remembered the woman's worried face at the conference, her desperate hope when she learned of your past work. It had felt like a punch to the gut even then, reopening the wound of your own loss.
Now, her raw grief had been weaponized, a pawn in Yaga's game of securing funding.
A bitter laugh threatened to escape your lips. Research meant nothing to these people. You were but a tool, a means to an end, another cog in their merciless machine. You wanted to scream, to expose their hypocrisy, to rip apart the facade of noble intentions that veiled their greed.
But what would it change?
Would it expose their callousness, their blatant abuse of a grieving woman?
No, they held the power.
Maybe Suguru and Satoru weren't so wrong, after all — research, even here, was just another business at its core, tainted by ambition and the pursuit of profit. It made you sick.
"You want to use me to exploit a grieving woman just to line your pockets?"
Yaga leaned back, momentarily taken aback by your bluntness. An arrogant rebuttal was undoubtedly forming on his lips, when the door crashed open.
Satoru stormed in, his fury barely contained. "What the hell is going on here?"
Yaga's expression hardened. "Dr. Gojo, what a...surprise. Here I thought you might have finally bothered to read your emails."
Satoru moved swiftly to stand beside you, his hand settling on the back of your chair. "Cut the bullshit, Yaga," he spat. "This is a new low, even for you. Forcing a student, exploiting a grieving widow—have you no shame?"
"Dr. Gojo, your dramatics are exhausting. Do you understand the costs your actions have inflicted on this institution? A shred of gratitude, a willingness to shoulder some responsibility, might be a welcome change."
"Responsibility? You want to talk about responsibility? You're exploiting a woman in the depths of grief, using one of my students as a bargaining chip." He leaned forward, eyes blazing. "What the hell happened to you, Yaga?"
Yaga mirrored his stance, the tension between them a storm about to break. "Happened to me? Dr. Gojo, have you considered the consequences of your reckless behavior? You're the one spiraling, and frankly, it's becoming unbearable."
Suguru, sensing the impending explosion, stepped between them with forced calm. "Director Yaga, please. She's a student, her focus should be on her studies."
"Of course, which is why you and Dr. Gojo will provide your expertise. Your old lab is free to use, funds are secured, equipment at your disposal. You have free rein."
Satoru laughed. "Free rein? Or free rein to do as you please? Despicable, Yaga. Truly despicable." He paused, the rage in his voice barely contained. "And wasn't I suspended? Investigations and all that? But I suppose principles go out the window when money enters the picture."
"You have no right to dictate what happens here, Gojo," Yaga snapped, the veneer of civility slipping. "You answer to me. This research holds immense potential, not just for the university, but for the field itself. You will do it. End of discussion."
"Potential? Or is that just fancy code for fattening your wallet, Yaga?"
Yaga's lips thinned. "Don't play dumb, Gojo. You, of all people, know exactly how the game is played."
"Don't. Do. This." Satoru leaned in, his voice a dangerous quiet. "Involve her in your schemes, and I swear—Leave her out of this. Suguru and I can do the damned research, but let her focus on her studies."
"You're in no position to bargain. I can make things incredibly difficult for you, Gojo. Throw away all that potential, all that talent...it would be a shame, wouldn't it? But I am more than willing to do so if you prove uncooperative."
"Director, Dr. Gojo has a point. This research will be a massive distraction. Her studies should be her priority," Suguru stepped in.
"Yes," Yaga drawled. "I heard about her recent...setbacks." He opened his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. "A failed practical exam, a theoretical test barely passed. And this isn't the first time, is it?"
His gaze fixed on you over his glasses as he turned the screen, revealing your student record, the failing grades glowing a damning red. "Tell me, which subject would you like to miraculously pass? A click of my fingers, and it's done."
The room imploded.
Satoru's grip on the chair threatened to split the wood. "You blackmailing piece of shit!"
"Blackmail?" Yaga said. "No, blackmail would be threatening to cut her scholarship, endangering her entire future here...which, thankfully, our generous donor would be more than happy to preserve."
Suguru shot to his feet, a rare crack in his composure. "Yaga, this is beyond the pale! This blatant manipulation—"
But the words were already forming in your mouth, driven by a bone-deep weariness. "I'll do it," you declared, the words surprisingly firm. "I'll work on the research."
The room fell silent, every eye fixed on you.
It felt awful to give in, but with everything going on, it was just too much — giving in was easier for now.
There were other battles to save your strength for. And the battlefield of Satoru's furrowed brow and those piercing blue eyes that bore into you was a battlefield that already took all your strength.
Someone needed to be practical here, and that wouldn't be him.
"Someone finally sees reason," Yaga said, breaking the silence. "You start this week."
This week?
"No," Satoru interjected. "That is not up for debate. We start next week."
Surprise flickered across Yaga's face, quickly replaced by irritation. Even Suguru seemed taken aback by Satoru's sudden defiance.
"This week," Yaga repeated.
"Next week. Or I walk out that door and you can find yourself a new star surgeon."
He wouldn't. He couldn't possibly—could he?
Satoru couldn't know about your father's death day — the reason why starting this week was unthinkable. You didn't tell him. But why, then, was he so vehemently pushing back?
"Dr. Gojo, you are exceedingly close to losing my goodwill," Yaga ground out. "Fine. Next week."
"And if we find nothing? Months, years, wasted on a dead-end?" Suguru asked.
"You'll continue as long as the funding lasts."
"Of course," Satoru spat.
"Well, look at the bright side, Dr. Gojo. I just approved that fancy new CT scanner for the ER. Isn't that what you've been whining about?" Yaga's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Finally found some spare change in the budget, did we?"
"You fucking bastard," Satoru hissed.
"Everyone has to play their role, Gojo."
The air in the room turned to lead.
You couldn't breathe. The walls of Yaga's office seemed to close in, suffocating. It had been the right decision, perhaps the only one — a tactical retreat. But why the hell was it so hard to breathe then?
It was just too much.
Too many battles, too many impossible choices.
Your father's memory, a constant ache turned into a weapon used against you. Yaga's insatiable ambition crushing you. And Satoru—
But worst of all was the gnawing, unyielding guilt underneath it all — that by returning to this research, you were betraying your own principles, the memory of the very person who had inspired you to pursue this path in the first place.
Your vision became blurry.
You desperately needed to escape. "If you'll excuse me," you managed. With that, you turned and fled Yaga's office, barely registering the startled faces of the men left behind.
─── ·✧· ───
You needed air, distance, anything to clear your head.
The hallway became a suffocating tunnel. Students and staff blurred past, mere obstacles in your path. Your heart pounded against your ribs.
"Wait!" Satoru's voice, his footsteps echoing behind you .
Bursting out into the courtyard, you gasped for air. Rain a harsh slap against your skin. Blurred shapes of green and gray whipped past as you ran. You didn't care where you were going, just that you were getting away.
Away from Yaga, away from the project, away from the crushing weight of it all.
Satoru called your name. Barely heard him. Legs burning, lungs screaming, but you pushed, ran. You wouldn't stop. Couldn't. Didn't want to see him — not now.
Somehow, you found yourself in an unfamiliar part of campus, and then — a wall. Looming, brutal. A dead end.
Sobs tore from your throat. You were cornered.
This is where it all led, isn't it?
Failure.
Betrayal.
And the sickening knowledge that you were complicit in your own downfall.
And with Satoru's relentless pursuit, the final, crushing blow would soon fall. His concern, his pity, would be the last straw, shattering what little remained of your composure.
"Please—" His voice was close now.
Your eyes slammed shut, but it did nothing to drown out his voice, the panic. Rain plastered your hair to your face, soaking you to the skin.
Satoru paused, a few feet away.
"Just leave me alone, Satoru. Please, I can't—can't—" The words dissolved into another ragged sob.
"I know, but I'm here." He took a step closer, and panic flared within you.
Your world narrowed. The panic attack was inevitable. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, each inhale a struggle against the invisible constrictor squeezing the life out of you. Your icy fingers trembled, useless and numb.
No.
No.
No.
No.
This couldn't happen.
Not here, not now.
Yet, your body betrayed you.
Without conscious thought, you simply sunk down onto the rain-soaked concrete. Your hand pressed against your chest, a desperate attempt to quell the frantic thudding of your heart, a frantic plea for it to slow, to obey.
Satoru crouched before you, the rain dripping from his white hair. Then the weight of his warm jacket settled over your shoulders as you choked on another breath.
"I...I just need..." Your voice cracked. "Need to sit. Can we just...just sit for a second?"
"Yes. Of course. Whatever you need."
He didn't touch you, didn't offer empty promises. He simply held the jacket over your head like a shelter, shielding you as best he could against the downpour. His own white shirt clung to him, soaked through.
His gaze, those impossibly blue eyes, never wavered. You felt exposed, like your every broken piece was on agonizing display for him to witness. It was unbearable.
You hated it.
Hated him for seeing you like this.
Hated that he refused to look away.
Suddenly, his hand covered yours, gently pressing it flat against the hard plane of his chest. You inhaled sharply, but then felt the calm rhythm of his heart beneath your palm.
"Focus on me," he whispered. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
You struggled to pull air into your burning lungs. His steady breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest under the drenched shirt, became a desperate focus.
Slowly, with each ragged breath, the crushing weight of panic slowly began to ease. Your racing heart slowed, though your body still trembled. You weren't sure how long you sat there, just you and Satoru, in the downpour.
As the tears subsided, as the world finally stopped spinning, you felt the faintest flicker of something akin to calm. Not the absence of pain, but the strange feeling of calm, of home — something you always felt with him.
Bittersweet resignation to the absurdity of it all washed over you.
All his attempts to distance himself, to push you away — and here you were, thrown together once again by forces far beyond your control. You hadn't sought this, hadn't chased after him. Yet, life it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.
Work together, fall apart, suffer, repeat.
A bitter laugh escaped you.
His gaze was on you, wary, perhaps gauging whether the weight of it all had pushed you beyond the brink of sanity, whether you'd been broken beyond repair — whether he was the one responsible for all this.
"Pointless, wasn't it?"
"What?"
"All that effort of yours. Pushing me away, only to end up here. Back to square one. Stuck on this damned project, pretending we don't want to fuck each other on the lab table."
His brow furrowed. "Are you losing your mind?"
You tilted your head, considering the question. "Tell me, was it easier? Loosing me, breaking my heart, than facing whatever it is that terrifies you about being with me?"
Silence fell.
"I don't know," he finally admitted. "I thought it would be, but now, I'm not so sure anymore."
Your breath hitched, the first inhale that didn't feel like a shard of glass cutting into your lungs. "We can do this, right?"
"We can try, if you want to" he said, his voice thick. "Suguru and I—we can handle most of it—"
"No. I mean, we can do this. Together. Work side by side, like professionals."
"We have to try." He swallowed, a muscle in his jaw working. "If you want me to...I can stay behind the scenes. Crunch data, Suguru can lead in the field—"
"No. No shortcuts. We do this together, all of us. You, me, Suguru."
"But you don't have to. You're a student. This mess...it's not yours to clean up."
"You think I can't handle it?"
Hypocritical, maybe, after your breakdown, but you didn't want his protection, not in this way. You wanted to fight your own battles, for better or worse. Stubborn pride — a desperate denial of how the grief, the unrelenting struggle, chipped away at you.
Perhaps he saw that, saw the fragility behind your brittle facade. Yet, his concern felt like a form of surrender — an acknowledgment that you were both fighting losing battles.
Satoru sighed, his hand raking through his soaked hair. "No, damn it, that's not it. I just—hate the idea of you having to—"
"And you always get to decide for me, right?"
His reaction was immediate. Hands cupped your face, forcing you to meet his gaze, the touch surprisingly gentle. "You infuriating, stubborn woman. Stop trying to play the goddamn martyr. For once, just let me help you."
"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
His grip tightened, a flicker of anger replacing the worry. "This isn't the same. You're not me. Sukuna's fucked-up game, Yaga's ambitions, this whole mess—none of it is yours to bear."
"You're right, we're not the same, no," you snapped. "I don't run when things get hard."
"God, you're so full of it! Your precious ego won't let you admit you need anyone, even someone who actually cares about you."
"My ego? Don't you think it's a little hypocritical to pretend you care after pushing me away?"
"You stupid woman." His anger faltered. "I'll always care, always look after you. Because I can't stand it—I can't watch you hurt. I—"
He trailed off, the confession choked back. Slowly, tentatively, his thumb traced a line across your cheek.
"Let me protect you," he whispered. "Please, just let me keep you from the worst of it."
"And what about you? Who looks after you?"
He held your gaze, the intensity holding you captive.
You'd seen glimpses of this before — flashes of protective fury or moments of vulnerability. But never like this. Never so raw, unguarded. He looked at you as if you held the key to his survival, as if your very existence was both his lifeline and his undoing.
Love.
It was the word you choked back, the emotion you refused to give voice to. Yet, it hung heavy in the rain-drenched air. It blazed in his eyes, a confession too raw to be contained.
His touch lingered, then retreated.
He stared at you, the rain making it impossible to tell if the glistening sheen on his face was water or something other.
"You have to stop looking at me like that," you whispered.
"I know," he said, burying his face against his shoulder for a moment. "Just because we can't be together...It doesn't mean I've stopped loving you."
You took a deep inhale, your heart a clenched fist in your chest.
"You know, in those four weeks—," you began. "I wondered if it was worth it, the pain, the hurt, for those sweet moments of being with you, or if it would've been better to never meet you at all."
"And did you find an answer?"
"I don't know," you admitted. "Part of me wished you'd just call me, say it was all a cruel joke."
"I wanted to but—"
"I know," you cut him off.
He didn't need to say it.
You didn't want to force the confession from him, didn't want to break something inside him you couldn't bear to see shatter, didn't want to see him crumble under the weight of his choices.
There was no need for him to voice the regret, the guilt.
You knew it, saw it in his eyes.
"I know," you repeated softly.
He was suffering too, you knew that. But a wounded part of you needed him to feel the pain, to feel the burn of it, to understand the depth of the wound he'd inflicted.
"It's okay," you said. "But I can't pretend I don't sometimes wonder how you could do this to me. Why you took it so far. You knew it would end like this, that you weren't strong enough, you knew, didn't you? And still, you let me confess...all while knowing you couldn't commit."
"I—," he started but you weren't done.
"I'm not finished," you said, a hand raised to silence him. "I wanted to scream, to rage, to make you feel my pain. But I kept quiet, kept my distance. Because I knew you weren't ready to face this. And I won't force you to."
Silence fell, broken only by the relentless rain.
"I didn't deserve this, Satoru," you forced yourself to say. "You know it."
There was no accusation, no plea for explanation. Just a simple truth, a raw wound laid bare in the unforgiving rain.
"I know."
"I don't know if I can forgive you yet, Satoru. I don't think I'm strong enough right now."
He reached out, gently brushing a wet strand of hair from your face. "It's okay," he said. "I'll wait. Forever, if I have to."
"And I'll wait for you," you echoed. "Until you're ready."
You took a deep breath. In this rain-soaked moment it seemed, all that remained were raw truths and a shared pain that bound you together even as it tore you apart.
You searched his face. "How are you? How have you been?"
"I...managed."
Convincing as always.
You could see the toll this had taken on him, the shadows in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Satoru, in his stubborn pride, would rather break than admit vulnerability.
Perhaps you weren't so different after all.
You tilted your head. "And how's that working for you?"
His gaze drifted to the ground.
With a sigh you slowly, hesitantly, reached for his hand.
His hand was cold against yours, damp from the persistent rain. You traced the faint scars on the back of his hand, the ones you'd stitched. His fingers twitched, then hesitantly found yours, intertwining with a desperate vulnerability that startled you.
It was familiar, his touch, his skin, yet undeniably foreign at the same time.
He looked up, dark circles smudged beneath his eyes. And so, beneath the relentless rain, you simply sat.
Words felt unnecessary.
There was no need for declarations, no need to dissect what had gone so horribly wrong. The truth was in the shared breath, the tremble of your intertwined fingers, the unspoken ache that you both shared.
You knew, with a certainty that transcended logic, that your souls were intertwined in a way that refused to be undone. Yet, that same knowledge brought a crushing weight, a reminder impossibility, the painful chasm you couldn't seem to bridge.
Too bad love wasn't enough.
"I love you," he finally whispered. "As long as I breathe, I'll love you."
"I hate you," you said.
He sighed, with a hint of a defeated smile. "Come on," he said, gently pulling you to your feet. "Let's go home."
─── ·✧· ───
Grief isn't pretty.
It's not elegant tears and soft whispers.
Sometimes it's a relentless ache, a gnawing emptiness throbbing beneath the thin veneer of forced normalcy.
You threw yourself into work, anything to outrun your thoughts.
You barely slept, barely ate. You wrote, then erased, then wrote some more.
Endless cups of coffee and the frantic tapping of your fingers on the keyboard replaced sleep. Your apartment became a prison, phone buzzing with unanswered calls, dishes piling up, the world outside your window a meaningless blur.
You existed on a ragged edge, refusing to let your mind wander. Every sting of grief, every echoing memory was ruthlessly shoved down, buried under data, statistics, intricate theories.
It wasn't just research anymore. It was a shield against pain.
You reread old papers, your eyes scanning pages until the words blurred, searching for some missed detail, some hidden clue that would unlock a breakthrough — anything to justify this madness.
You couldn't stop, needed to function.
Because what else was left of you if you didn't anymore?
So you worked. Because to stop is to surrender, to stop is to face the truth — that without this work, all that remained was the ruin of what you once were.
Days melted into nights.
You massaged your temples, the headache now a constant companion.
The laptop screen blurred, diagrams and data swirling. Your mind felt like a tightly wound coil, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
You looked over to the window. The world outside, bathed in the soft glow of early morning, seemed like a foreign land. You hadn't been out in days.
You needed fresh air.
You slipped on shoes and crept downstairs. On the landing, your gaze fell upon Mrs. Tanaka, your elderly neighbor. Her hands fumbled with a tangle of keys, her fingers trembling slightly.
You knew Mrs. Tanaka, knew her kind smile, knew the early signs of her dementia.
"Need help, Mrs. Tanaka?" you asked.
She turned, her eyes widening in recognition. "Oh dear. I seem to have misplaced my keys again. Silly me."
"Here." You knelt beside her, retrieving the spare key from its familiar hiding spot under the potted plant. "Is this it?"
"You're an angel, dear," she said, her hands finally steady enough to work the lock. She paused, peering at your drawn face. "You look exhausted, dear. Are you getting enough rest?"
"Oh, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just a long night of studying."
Mrs. Tanaka's nod was slow, her gaze lingering. But she said nothing further, just patted your arm gently before disappearing inside her apartment.
Your walk around the block was a blur, legs moving on autopilot.
The energy drink in your hand was a pathetic substitute for real sleep. Back in your apartment, the silence was deafening.
You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling.
Think.
Think.
Think.
And suddenly — there it was, a flicker of an idea, a twist on existing theory so audacious it bordered on madness.
It wasn't a cure, not yet. But it was... a start.
Adrenaline surged through you, chasing away the exhaustion. You barely noticed the tremors in your hands as you scrambled for a fresh notebook. Diagrams sprawled across the pages, messy yet precise, a frantic attempt to capture the idea before it slipped away.
Your hand ached from scribbling, your mind throbbed. But the fire was back, a destructive force perhaps, but a force that fueled you nonetheless.
Finally, as the first rays of dawn painted the sky, you had it. Not a cure, not yet. But a starting point. It was messy, audacious, and riddled with uncertainties. But it was something.
You reached for your phone.
[8:27 AM] You: Can we meet later? Lab. After classes. I think I have something.
─── ·✧· ───
You clutched your steaming cup of coffee like a lifeline.
Shivers ran down your body as a gust of autumn wind cut through your thin sweater, carrying with it the scent of damp leaves and the promise of winter's impending cold.
The late afternoon sun offered little warmth as it filtered through the branches of the oak trees that shaded the outdoor seating area of the cafeteria. Students bustled past, their bright faces and carefree chatter unbearable.
"You awake?" Maki's voice cut through the haze that had settled over you.
You blinked, suddenly aware of the concerned looks on your friends' faces.
"You look like absolute hell," Maki continued. "Seriously, have you slept at all this week?"
"I'm fine."
"Don't even start with that. We know you, and you look like you're about to lose it."
You took a long sip of your coffee, somehow, defending yourself seemed like too much effort.
"She's right, you know," Yuta chimed in, his voice gentler than Maki's but no less concerned. "This research they're piling on you, on top of everything else... it's too much. Even we're struggling with the new semester, and we don't have half the stuff you're dealing with."
"Yeah," you sighed. "Tell me about it."
The looks exchanged between your friends were anything but reassuring. They knew you, knew your stubborn streak, but they also saw the toll this was taking on you. The shadows under your eyes, the tremor in your hands — they couldn't be ignored.
"It's not right," Maki said. "They're basically blackmailing you with your scholarship. That's messed up, even for this university."
"I know, it's messed up. But what am I supposed to do? Fighting it will just make things worse."
"But you have to!" Maki insisted, her voice rising. "Yaga's using you! You're just a student. We should report him, expose this whole thing."
"Maki, it's okay," you sighed, rubbing your temples.
"Nothing about this is 'okay'," she retorted. "You look like you're about to have a breakdown. You can't keep this up forever."
You slumped back in your chair. "It's complicated."
They were right, of course. You couldn't keep going like this. It was unsustainable, a house of cards ready to collapse at the slightest breeze. But what other choice did you have? The alternatives seemed even worse.
"We just—we worry about you," Yuta said. "Maybe we can help with the workload? Notes from class, study sessions—"
"Yeah," Toge chimed in. "Notes."
You offered a faint smile. "That would be great, thank you."
But Maki, as always, was less concerned with comforting and more with the injustice of it all. "I still can't believe you're stuck working with Gojo again. I mean, who does he think he is?"
You winced, wishing she hadn't brought up Satoru. Your head pounded, a migraine threatening to form. You rubbed your temples, but Maki's gaze was relentless. You knew what was coming next.
"Don't even ask," you pleaded, but it was too late.
"Have you talked to him? Like, really talked?"
You sighed, burying your face in your hands. "Maki, please—"
"Girl, he dragged you in front of an ethics committee, broke your heart, and now he's acting like nothing happened. Why are you still protecting him?"
"I can't tell you why," you said, your voice muffled. "Just trust me on this."
You couldn't really tell them, could you?
You couldn't tell them that your professor, a world-renowned neurosurgeon, was an opioid addict. That you'd fallen for him, hard. That the research project had gone sideways, not because of your actions, but because of something else that eventually led to a twisted game played by one of his former friends. And that Satoru, in his fear and self-loathing, had pushed you away, convinced he was doing you a favor.
Yeah, that wasn't exactly coffee-break conversation.
Maki raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your non-answer.
"He's...afraid," you said. "But he's trying."
"Trying what, exactly?" Maki scoffed. "To break your heart again? How long are you going to wait for him to get his shit together? How many times are you going to let him hurt you before you realize he might not change?"
Her words, harsh but undeniably true, cut deep. You knew the risks, the potential for heartbreak. But you also knew that love wasn't always rational, that sometimes the heart held on to hope long after logic had abandoned it.
You met Maki's gaze, a silent plea for understanding in your eyes. She was trying to protect you, and as much as it stung, you couldn't fault her for that.
"I think what Maki's trying to say," Yuta interjected, "is that we're worried about you. And this situation with Dr. Gojo doesn't help. He's your professor. If anyone finds out about your history, you're fucked."
"There's nothing to find out. It's over."
"Over? So you talked to him? Ended things?" Maki pressed.
"Ended is a bit strong."
"You really want me to go over there and end it for you?"
You wanted to argue, to defend the fragile hope that still flickered within you, but the words wouldn't come. You were simply exhausted.
Just then, your phone, lying forgotten on the table, lit up with a notification.
[12:37 PM] Satoru: We're in the lab. Take your time, we'll wait for you until your class is over.
Maki raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of the devil?"
You gathered your things, a sudden urgency replacing the weariness. "I have to go," you said, looking to Yuta with a silent plea. He understood immediately.
"Don't worry," he said, a smile on his lips. "I'll take notes for you. Don't want you falling behind on top of everything else."
"Thanks, Yuta, I owe you one."
But as you turned to leave, Maki crossed her arms, a stern expression on her face.
"Don't be mad at me," you pleaded, sensing another lecture coming on. "I've got this under control, I promise."
"Sure you do. Just like you had that whole thing with Gojo under control?" She paused, her voice softening slightly. "We're just worried about you. Don't shut us out."
The weight of their concern settled heavily in your chest, a guilt that twisted like a knife in your gut.
You wanted to tell them, to let them know the fucked-up mess of emotions and impossible situation you were in, but the words stuck in your throat.
You couldn't tell them.
You simply couldn't tell them.
Not when it meant risking his secret, his reputation, his entire career.
Not when you still cared, foolishly, stubbornly cared.
─── ·✧· ───
You pushed open the door to the lab.
It had been weeks since you'd last stepped foot in this space, weeks since you'd worked with Suguru and Satoru here. Somehow it's the same, the same lab, the same white coat, the same machinery, the same smell of antiseptic in the air, but the project was different.
No, it was not the same.
You slipped into your white lab coat and dropped your bag in the corner.
Satoru and Suguru were already immersed, standing in front of a whiteboard. Satoru, stretched out in a chair with a mug of coffee precariously balanced on a nearby stool, was gesturing wildly while Suguru scribbled.
You walked over to them. Satoru's head snapped around as he heard your footsteps, nearly spilling his coffee on the floor.
"What are you doing here?" Satoru asked. "Don't you have a lecture right now?"
"Yuta's covering for me. It's fine."
He stared at you for another moment, his brow creasing as he assessed your weary features. "That's not how this research will work. You won't jeopardize your studies for this."
"Last time I checked this was my research. Remember?"
Satoru merely scoffed, tilting his head to assess you with those impossibly blue eyes. You tucked your trembling hands behind your back, hiding the caffeine-fueled tremors from his observant gaze.
"You look exhausted," Suguru observed. "Are you sure you're up for this?"
"I'm fine," you lied, though they probably wouldn't be fooled. Exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, and the effort to maintain your composure was becoming unbearable.
They glanced at each other for a second, sharing a worried look.
It felt like a jagged saw against raw nerves. You wanted to prove them wrong, to prove you could handle this — handle all of it. This fight wasn't your choice, but it was yours now. And you wouldn't crumble beneath its weight.
"Look, I have an idea." You walked towards the whiteboard and relieving Suguru of the marker. With a few harsh strokes, you erased their notes.
It was shit anyway.
"My original approach was too theoretical—too cautious," you began. The marker flew across the whiteboard, outlining your new strategy. "I wanted to use CAR-T therapy to treat brain tumors like blood diseases, but that's not enough. What if we combine CAR-T with targeted antibodies?"
Suguru took a seat beside Satoru, his gaze following yours as you scrawled out diagrams and equations. "Antibodies...what kind?"
"T-cell engagers," you replied. "We can engineer them to bridge the gap between the CAR-T cells and the tumor."
Satoru shifted in his seat. "Such things never been tested before."
"That's why we'll be the first," you countered, keeping your back to them and focusing on the whiteboard. "We'll modify the CAR-T cells to specifically target the glioblastoma's antigen fingerprint. But we need to combine them with T-cell engagers, designed to simultaneously bind the EGFR protein. This way we can maximize tumor cell destruction."
You spun around, the marker poised in your hand. "And we'll inject them directly into the brain."
They both starred at you, as if you went insane.
"That's," Suguru paused, searching for the right word, "—bold."
"More like insane," Satoru countered. "When was the last time you actually slept?"
"Ha?" Your gaze flickered between them. "Tell me this doesn't make sense."
Suguru leaned back, fingers drumming against the armrest. "It does. Theoretically, it might even work."
Satoru, however, remained unconvinced. "Combining CAR-T with antibodies? Direct brain injection? We don't have preclinical data, not even hypothetical models to support something this radical."
Your pulse hammered against your skull. Your idea was a shot in the dark — that was undeniable. But in your gut, you knew, this could work.
"So?" you challenged. "Isn't that what groundbreaking research is about? Taking risks, pushing boundaries?" You gestured to the whiteboard. "This—this is worth the risk."
Suguru stood up from his chair. He paced the lab, your idea stirring an excitement in him that matched your own. He stole the marker from your hand and began scribbling.
"She's right," he began. "Direct injection cuts through the blood-brain barrier issue. And targeted antibodies...that opens up possibilities we haven't even considered."
"The potential for cytokine release syndrome—," Suguru mused aloud. "If the T-cells overreact, we could trigger a inflammatory response."
"We can manage that," you countered. "Steroids, anti-IL-6...strict monitoring protocols."
You knew the risks, perhaps even better than they did. And they were monstrous, undeniable. But those risks paled in comparison to the potential.
Suguru continued scrawling notes. "And what about the target itself? EGFRvIII is notoriously heterogeneous. We need robust evidence that our antibodies won't miss their mark—"
"Is it just me, or am I the only sane person in this room right now?" Satoru, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally snapped. "We're not talking about hypothetical models here. We're talking about messing with someone's brain. Someone's life."
You glared at him. "I'm well aware of the risks, Satoru."
"Aware and reckless aren't the same thing," Satoru shot back.
"Coming from you, that's rich."
Satoru run a hand through his hair. "Look, you've barely slept for a week, and now you're proposing—what, supercharged T-cells?" He gestured wildly towards the whiteboard. "Have you both lost your goddamn minds?"
"This could work, Satoru. Or are you too much of a coward to even try?"
His eyes narrowed. "Ha?"
You leaned into him, your hands on the arms of his chair, caging him in. "Tell me, do these supercharged T-cells unnerve you? Make you uncomfortable with yourself?" Your lips were mere inches from his as you whispered, "Too bad you can't fuck them into submission, right?"
He stiffened, the muscles in his jaw clenching. He understood your taunt, the challenge clear in his eyes, the anger and — maybe something other as well.
Suguru, who had been watching the exchange with an expression that bordered on annoyance, suddenly stopped mid-thought. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his expression hardening as he glanced at the screen.
"Damn it." He answered the call. "Alright, I'm on my way," he said finally, ending the call with a curt nod. He turned to you. "We'll pick this up later. There's a situation at the hospital. Get some rest. You look like hell."
Ouch.
Before you could say anything, he was already striding towards the door, his white coat flapping behind him.
With Suguru gone, a heavy silence descended upon the room.
Satoru remained seated, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you. It felt like an assessment, not just of your audacious proposal, but of you — standing there, the weight of sleepless nights visible in the dark circles beneath your eyes.
"So—," he began. "When was the last time you actually slept? Like, really slept?"
You rubbed your aching temples. "I'm fine."
You didn't know how many times you'd said that before today. But each time it was a lie. The exhaustion now throbbed behind your eyes, the beginnings of a relentless migraine.
Satoru stood. "Yeah, right." He crossed the distance between you in a few strides, his towering height suddenly oppressive.
"Listen, we can argue about this crazy plan of yours later. Right now, you look like you're about to collapse." He reached out, gently cupping your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Don't lie to me. I know you're not fine."
"This idea is good, Satoru," you insisted. "It could actually work."
"I don't give a damn about theoretical breakthroughs right now," he said. "Stubborn, reckless idiot. I care about you. And right now, you're pushing yourself way past your limits."
"I don't need your concern, Satoru. Right now, I need your brain to help me with this."
His lips quirked into a half-smile. "Oh, where did all that anger at me go?"
"Screw anger. I'm being a genius now."
"You're not a genius right now, more like a madman."
"That's what it takes," you muttered, the defiance fading as your voice softened. "This research...it's personal."
He studied you closely, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I get that. But you can't save anyone if you fall apart in the process."
"I won't fall apart."
"Yes, you will. I've known you long enough to know that."
Part of you longed to surrender, to let him take the weight you carried, even for a moment. But pride, a fierce, protective instinct, urged you to resist. You couldn't afford to rely on him, not anymore. You had to fight your own battles, win or lose.
"Let us help. Just a little. Share the burden."
"I'm—"
"Don't," he cut you off. "Don't say you're fine. Not when I can feel you trembling."
"I'm... okay," you said instead.
His gaze held yours, unwavering and painfully perceptive.
His breath brushed against your lips, making your knees weak in an instant.
The world narrowed to the mesmerizing blue of his eyes. He leaned in, your bodies mere inches apart. His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you against him. Each inhale brought the subtle scent of sandalwood and something uniquely him.
"Satoru, what are you—"
He smirked. "Just testing out a hypothesis."
His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. You leaned into him, unable to resist his pull, cursing your treacherous body in the very same second.
"What hypothesis?"
He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over yours before tracing a searing path down the side of your throat. A soft moan escaped your lips as his tongue flicked out, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
"Ah," he whispered against your skin, "that would be telling."
Before you could react, his hands slipped beneath your legs, lifting you effortlessly. Your arms instinctively found their way around his neck. He carried you effortlessly toward the lone chair before his desk.
"What are you doing?"
"Research," he declared, a playful lilt to his voice.
He lowered himself into the chair, his hands never leaving your body, guiding you onto his lap as if you belonged there. His warmth enveloped you.
"Time to delve into your reckless methods, wouldn't you agree?"
Your legs were lifted, draped over his thighs as he pulled you closer. He reached for his laptop, his fingers dancing across the keyboard.
"Satoru, I—"
"Shhh." His fingers grazed your cheek, then slipped into your hair, stroking the back of your head in a soothing rhythm. "Just rest for a moment. I'll handle this for now."
"But I—"
His grip tightened, a gentle but firm reminder that your protests were futile. "If you don't sleep now, I swear, I'll slip a sedative into your next coffee, love."
You grumbled something unintelligible, but the fight had drained from you. The exhaustion was too overwhelming, his warmth too tempting.
You surrendered to the moment, your body relaxing against his. As your eyelids fluttered closed, the world narrowed to the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his breath against your hair, and the undeniable truth that despite the chaos — you were exactly where you were meant to be.
But even as your eyelids grew heavy, your researcher's mind kept churning.
"EGFRvIII..." you mumbled, the words barely audible against his chest. "Heterogeneity...off-target effects..."
He chuckled, his chest vibrating against your cheek. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, Doctor. I might be a bit more experienced in this field than you, you know."
"But cytokine storm markers...cross-reactivity...you forget them often..."
"Bossy even in your sleep, huh?" His fingers continued to run through your hair as he spoke. "Don't worry that pretty little head. Just...sleep. I've got you."
And with that promise, he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a deep, desperately needed slumber. The last thing your conscious mind recognized was a kiss placed on the top of your head.
─── ·✧· ───
Ten years.
Ten years since the sterile hospital room, the rhythmic beeps of the monitor dissolving into a horrifying silence.
Ten years since the brain tumor had devoured your father, the man you looked up to, the man you admired more than anyone.
Who would have thought that ten years later you'd be doing research on that very brain tumor again.
What a cruel joke.
Today, all you craved was to burrow yourself under the covers and let the world fade away. University, research, responsibilities — they all felt trivial, meaningless.
You were hungry, stomach growling.
You didn't want to eat.
Dragging yourself out of bed was a herculean effort. Even the simple act of brushing your teeth felt monumental, exhaustion seeping into your bones like a poison.
The familiar ache intensified. You missed him. Missed his booming laugh, his gentle teasing, the unwavering belief in his eyes that you could achieve anything.
He would have understood this desperate research, this burning need to find a cure — not just for others, but for a chance to rewrite the ending to your own story.
Maybe throwing yourself into this research was a desperate way for you to feel close to him again, maybe it was a futile attempt to get over it, end the suffering, end the what if's.
Coffee, black and bitter, was the only thing you could stomach. Just as you were about to take a sip, your phone buzzed.
[10:12 AM] Satoru: You with friends today?
You stared at the screen. Why would he ask that? But as quickly as the thought came, you dismissed it. No, not today. You really didn't need another emotional mess on this day.
You ignored the message.
With a sigh, you tossed the phone aside and buried yourself under the comforting weight of your blankets. You just wanted to sleep. Sleep and forget. Pretend for a moment that the world wasn't crumbling around you.
Afternoon passed in a haze of restless slumber and tearful awakenings.
Another buzz — a call this time.
Satoru.
Your finger hovered over the decline button. Why was he calling? Was there an emergency? Even if there was, you wouldn't be much help today anyway.
Ignoring the call, you shut your phone off completely. He can handle whatever is going on on his own. He's a grown man after all.
The silence returned, thick and heavy.
Curled up tight, you drifted into a restless sleep again.
You awoke with a start, disoriented and unsure of how much time had passed. You blinked against the dim light, the rhythmic thumping at the door a harsh intrusion. Ignoring it, you burrowed deeper under the covers.
Maybe, just maybe, whoever it was would go away and leave you alone. But the knocking persisted. With a frustrated groan, you dragged yourself out of bed. Throwing the door open, you were met with the last person you expected to see.
"What are you doing here?" you asked.
Satoru leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His white dress shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up. Dark navy tie around his neck. His brows were furrowed, the usual playful smirk replaced by a worried expression.
"You weren't answering your phone."
"And?"
"I'm concerned about you."
"No need."
You reached for the doorknob to shut the door. But his hand shot out, stopping the door. His gaze locked with yours, those impossibly blue eyes piercing into you.
"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" he asked softly.
"Tell anyone what?"
"That today...it's the day of your father's death."
You felt an icy grip tighten around your heart. How did he know? You hadn't told anyone, not wanting the pitying looks or empty platitudes, least of all from him.
"Yeah," he said. "That's what I thought."
His gaze held you captive, draining the fight from you. It wasn't anger, nor pity, but something like concern, and something more — something you told him not to look at you like that again.
You stepped aside and shuffled towards the kitchen to get yourself another cup of coffee. "How did you even know?" you asked, pouring yourself another cup.
"Google."
You turned, coffee sloshing in your mug. "Seriously? You Googled my father's death day?"
He didn't answer to that.
Instead, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering. "Thought you'd be with friends today. Maki's fiercely protective, she wouldn't leave your side on a day like this. So when I saw her and the rest of the group on campus, I figured you hadn't told anyone."
"Yeah, because I wanted to be alone. Besides, shouldn't you be at university right now?"
"Called in sick once I realized you weren't with them."
"You really trying to get yourself fired, don't you?"
He closed the distance between you, the small kitchen suddenly feeling crowded with his presence. His eyes swept across your face, taking in the exhaustion etched around your eyes, the weariness in your posture.
"Have you eaten anything today besides coffee?"
"How much hydromorphone have you taken today?"
"Don't distract from the subject."
You crossed your arms. "I just changed the subject."
He ran a hand through his unruly white hair. "Alright, stubborn one. Let's get you some real food."
"I don't need you to babysit me, Satoru."
"Yeah, I know you don't. But you can't stop me, can you? So, move it." He gestured towards the door, his gaze unwavering. "Or I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out myself."
The threat, delivered with a hint of a smirk, was not entirely a joke. You knew him well enough to know that. He was dead serious, and you were too exhausted to fight him, to resist the gentle command in his voice.
And maybe, just maybe, a part of you didn't want to fight him, was thankful for his support.
"Fine," you grumbled. "But I'm paying."
"We'll see about that, first-year."
─── ·✧· ───
You didn't pay for it.
He'd already taken care of the bill before you could even reach for your wallet.
Silence fell between you as you navigated the bustling streets in his car, your stomach full. He smoothly merged from the parking lot onto the main road.
You were halfway through your energy drink, the sugary sweetness suddenly feeling heavy in your stomach. "Wait... where are we going?"
Glancing out the window, you saw a road sign indicating the highway. It pointed towards the direction of your hometown, a place you hadn't set foot in for nearly a year. Your stomach suddenly turned.
"You..." you stammered. "Why?"
His eyes briefly met yours, one hand tightening on the steering wheel. "Don't you want to visit him?"
His words hung in the air, a simple question — should have been a simple question.
But a wave of nausea roiled in your stomach. Guilt for neglecting the place that held so many memories, fear of confronting the raw grief that still lingered, a deep-seated yearning to reconnect with a past you'd desperately tried to outrun.
"I don't know." You slumped back in the seat. "I don't think I can."
Silence stretched between you.
Then, his hand found yours, fingers interlacing with your own. "I'm here with you. Every step of the way."
You hated him.
Hated that he wouldn't force you, wouldn't pressure you. Hated that he would simply be there, as he always seemed to be. Even when you didn't ask, even when you didn't want him to.
You wanted to curse him for his audacity, for somehow knowing what you needed now, for understanding you better than you understood yourself. But a part of you was grateful.
The truth was, you didn't have the strength to face this alone. And deep down, you knew this visit was long overdue.
Your fingers fumbled with the edge of your sleeve. "You planned this all along, didn't you?" You glanced over at him.
His lips curved into a slight smile. "Get some rest," he replied, eyes returning to the road. "We've got a long drive ahead of us."
The highway stretched before you, an endless ribbon of asphalt disappearing into the horizon. You leaned back, exhaustion pulling you under. The warmth of his hand lingered, a comforting weight on your thigh.
Lately, it seemed, you could find peaceful sleep only in his presence.
─── ·✧· ───
Hours dissolved into miles, the familiar cityscape giving way to rolling hills and quaint towns. The pain in your chest was still there, but with Satoru by your side, it was lighter, less heavy, less suffocating.
But as the car pulled into the all-too-familiar cemetery parking lot, the dread you'd been suppressing clawed its way back. Satoru cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening, broken only by the mournful creak of the windshield wipers against the lingering drizzle.
Satoru got out of the car and rounded it to opened the door for you, his hand lingering on the window frame. You got out of the car only to find yourself trapped, his body not moving an inch.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine." You ducked beneath his arm, breaking the hold of his gaze, and stepped onto the rain-softened ground.
The desolate expanse of the graveyard stretched before you, a sea of gray and brown punctuated by the stark white headstones that stood like silent sentinels. Without a word, you walked the familiar path, each step a heavy weight dragging you down.
The wind howled. It whipped through the trees, skeletal branches clawing at the sky. Each gust of icy air tore at your hair, biting at your exposed skin until you finally stood before his grave.
Satoru remained a few paces back.
You hadn't been here since the funeral, avoided it at all costs. And now you were here, standing in front of his grave. Somehow, you didn't even remember the reason you avoided this for so long.
Maybe seeing his grave made it all too real, too painful.
But now you were here.
And it became real, and it was painful.
"You want me to leave you alone?" Satoru asked.
"No." With a silent plea, you reached out your hand. "Please, stay with me."
His response was immediate. In a few quick strides, he closed the distance between you, his hand enveloping yours in a warmth that chased away some of the icy dread. "Where else would I go?" he mused, his fingers intertwining with yours.
You swallowed back a sob, unable to form words.
Time lost all meaning as you stood there, hand in hand, the world narrowing to the headstone before you. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the sun sinking lower, painting the graveyard in fiery hues of orange and red.
But the silence became unbearable.
Memories flooded you, each one a bittersweet wound, a yearning for the past that wouldn't be silenced. You couldn't stand still anymore. Your fingers tightened around Satoru's.
"I asked my father to read me his neurology books as a child," you finally spoke, your voice a fragile whisper. "While other kids were reading about princesses and fairy tales, I wanted to understand what my father did, wanted to understand his work."
You took a shaky breath. "He loved this. Surgeries, research, saving lives... it was his whole being, and somehow, it became mine too. I remember knowing how to clip an aneurysm before I could do the Pythagoras theorem."
"When I was old enough, he took me to the hospital. Showed me everything. I was probably there more than I was at school." Your voice trembled, the dam threatening to break. "I loved it. I loved it so much."
"Sounds like he was a great man," Satoru offered quietly.
"They tried everything," you continued. "Chemo, radiation... poison, burning him from the inside out. But the tumor was too aggressive, too progressed." Your voice trembled, your fingers turning to ice in his grasp. "Surgery was his last option."
Satoru moved closer, his grip tightening.
"We didn't want him to, we wanted him to try radiation a little longer, stay with us a little longer," you confessed, the words spilling out in a rush. "But he chose surgery anyway, went into surgery without telling us."
Suddenly the memories came back, how weak and fragile your father already was from all the procedures. How the doctors still suggested surgery. It was risky. It was stupid. But your father still wanted it. Even after you begged him not to do it.
But what could you do?
You were a high school student at the time.
Young and dumb.
You know now, that it was his only chance. You understand now, why he wanted to try anyway, even though he knew the risks.
"He didn't make it," you finally choked out, tears welling up in your eyes. "He died on the table. Alone. I never even got to say goodbye."
Suddenly, Satoru's arms enveloped you, strong and warm against the chilling evening air. He pulled you close, one hand on your back, the other pressing your head against his chest.
"It's okay," he said quietly. "I'm here, and I'll always be here."
You bit your lip. You wouldn't cry. Wouldn't let the grief consume you. Not here, not now. But Satoru's arms tightened around your trembling form as your tears nevertheless dampened his shirt.
You didn't know how long you remained like this, but his grip on you never faltered for a second, he didn't back away for a second. Even as twilight descended, casting long shadows across the headstones.
He held you until your tears dried, he held you until your tight grip on his shirt eased, until your heart felt less like a stone in your chest.
"We should probably find a place to stay," Satoru finally spoke, his voice gentle, hesitant. "It's getting late, we can drive home tomorrow—"
You pulled away, just enough to meet his gaze. Your voice was surprisingly steady despite the tear-streaked tracks on your face. "I know where we can stay."
─── ·✧· ───
"She's a little...different," you warned Satoru after ringing the doorbell.
The porch creaked beneath your weight. Your eyes swept across the worn wooden planks, the once vibrant yellow paint on the siding faded to a sickly pallor, the rusty mailbox overflowing with unopened letters. Rose bushes wild and overgrown.
You averted your gaze, a lump forming in your throat.
"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You've mentioned that. Like, a hundred times."
"Just so you're prepared."
"I'm a doctor, remember? Crazy doesn't faze me."
"Just wait," you muttered, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. "And, uh, whatever you do, don't mention my father."
His eyes widened slightly, the playful smile disappearing. But before he could respond, the front door flew open. Your mother appeared in the doorway. Surprise, then unadulterated joy, flashed across her face as her gaze fell upon you.
"Oh my baby girl!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. "You've grown so tall! My, how long has it been? All the way from Tokyo? Are you alright? Why didn't you call?"
Her questions tumbled out in a torrent, the words tripping over each other as she finally noticed the tall, white-haired man standing behind you. "And who is this?"
"Mom," you managed, your voice muffled against her shoulder. "It's good to see you too..." You gently extricated yourself from her embrace. "This is Satoru...he's a...," you turned around to glanced at him, "friend."
Satoru raised an eyebrow at the label.
Your mother's eyes raked over him. He, in turn, flashed her a smile so bright, so disarming, it almost made your skin crawl. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Wow, he really could play the perfect son-in-law when he wanted to.
You suppressed a sigh, knowing your mother was already half-smitten. Before she could unleash another barrage of questions, you quickly interjected, "We're just passing through, and need a place to stay the night."
"Of course, of course!" Your mother's enthusiasm returned in a flurry. "Come in, come in! You must be starving. I'll whip up some tea, and there's apple pie..." She chattered on, ushering you both into the familiar warmth of your childhood home.
─── ·✧· ───
Before you could blink, your mother had you both in colorful floral aprons, protest was futile. Satoru's awkwardly tied over his shirt, the apron way too tight for him. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, the crisp white fabric bunching around his elbows.
The awful smell of lavender, tinged with something sweet, hung in the air.
How you hated that smell.
Your mother bustled around the kitchen, flinging open cupboards, clattering utensils, and assigning tasks. You found yourself shoulder-to-shoulder with Satoru at the counter, a mountain of carrots and a too-small cutting board the only barrier between you.
You glanced at him and mouthed a silent 'sorry'.
Satoru leaned in, a wry grin playing on his lips. "Think I finally figured out where you got your stubborn streak."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Before he could answer, your mother stood between you, a wooden spoon clutched in her hand like a weapon. "So, Satoru, tell me, where did you meet my lovely daughter?"
The question nearly made you drop the knife.
"We met in the operating room," he began, while cutting carrots. "I was performing a quite complicated operation and was a bit stuck, and your daughter over here helped me out."
"Oh, you're a surgeon?"
"Neurosurgeon, yes," Satoru replied. "But apparently, I'm not as clever as your daughter. She's got quite the mind on her."
Your mother let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing in the cramped kitchen. "That's my girl," she exclaimed, patting your arm with a flour-covered hand. "Always the smartest one in the room."
Then, she reached out to pinch your cheek. "Mom!" You swatted her hand away. "Stop it!"
"She's astoundingly intelligent," Satoru added, his eyes flickering to you with an admiration that lingered a beat too long. You rubbed your cheek, a blush warming your face. "Couldn't ask for a better research partner."
You shot him a warning glance, and he finally tore his eyes away, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
"You work together?" your mother asked, her curiosity piqued as she turned around to tasted something from the simmering pot.
"We're involved in the same research project—" Satoru began, but you cut him off.
"It's nothing special," you interrupted, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. "Just some boring data analysis. Nothing exciting."
Satoru glanced at you. You shook your head subtly, hoping he'd catch the unspoken plea.
The rest of the meal preparation was a blur of nervous glances and sharp elbow jabs.
Your mother asked more and more personal questions, making you want to crawl under the table and disappear. You dodged, deflected, and offered vague answers. Satoru, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem to reveal every fucking inappropriate detail of your shared past.
You could practically feel the bruises forming on his shins. By the time the food was ready, you were ready to throttle him.
He must absolutely hate you, you thought, shooting him a death glare as you sat down at the table. But even your anger couldn't fully mask the warmth that spread through you at the sight of his charming smile, the way he seemed to effortlessly charm your mother with his stories.
You'd hoped the interrogation was over, but as soon as the first bite was taken, your mother launched into a fresh round of inquiries.
"Made some good friends in Tokyo, have you?"
"Yeah," you mumbled around a mouthful of casserole. "They're great. Don't worry."
"Oh, thank goodness!" Your mother clasped her hands together. "You were always a bit of a loner, you know. I was so worried you'd be all by yourself in that big city."
The backhanded compliment made you roll your eyes. Some things never change.
Before you could reply, she continued, "But you've even found yourself a boyfriend! That's wonderful!"
You choked on your food. "Mom, no, that's not..." you coughed, fighting for composure, "He's just a friend."
"Ouch," Satoru muttered under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips as he took another bite.
You shot him a glare, the unspoken 'shut up' hanging heavy in the air.
"So, you two are working on that neuroprosthetics project together, then?" your mother continued.
You were mid-bite, unable to answer before Satoru piped up, "We were. But we're working on something else now."
"Oh? What happened to the neuroprosthetics?"
You swallowed, forcing the words out. "It was...shelved. For now."
"Why?"
Damn it. Her relentless questioning was grating against your already frayed nerves. You avoided her look, tracing the worn pattern of the tablecloth with your fingers.
"Some complications," you lied. "We're waiting on funding."
You couldn't really tell her the truth after all, could you?
"So, what are you working on now, then?" Your mother wouldn't let it go, her voice a relentless drill boring into your skull.
"It's nothing, really. Boring stuff," you dismissed it, desperate to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters.
"Ah, but I want to know!"
"It's...medical research."
"That's what I thought! But what kind? It must be important if you're working with a seasoned surgeon." She beamed at him. "Tell me, I'm dying to know!"
Your gaze flickered to Satoru, a silent plea for him to remain quiet. He simply watched the exchange with a carefully neutral expression, probably unsure of what's going on.
The knot in your stomach tightened. You knew she wouldn't let it go. "It's... brain tumor research," you finally admitted.
The kitchen fell silent.
Your mother's forced smile vanished, a mask you knew all too well finally fell. Her eyes hardened into shards of ice.
"So," she finally hissed. "It's back to that foolish research, is it?"
It hurt — after all this time it still hurt so awfully.
"It's not foolish," you retorted, your own anger flaring in response. "It's important. It could save lives."
But your words fell on deaf ears. She slammed her hands on the table, the force of it rattling the plates. Her face twisted with a grief-stricken rage as she rose, towering over you. "Why? Why are you so obsessed with this?"
The words pierced you like a thousand tiny needles. It was the unspoken accusation that had haunted you since his death — that your relentless pursuit was somehow an act of betrayal, a denial of his death.
But she was worse.
"Because he's dead, Mom!" you screamed. "He's gone! And he's never coming back!"
The words hung heavy in the air, a brutal reality she desperately tried to outrun. Your mother's face crumpled, the carefully constructed mask of normalcy finally shattering. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white against the worn tabletop.
"Dead?" she whispered. "You know that's not true. He's...he's just...away. You're lying. You're a liar!"
The accusation, so childlike in its desperation, was a punch to the gut. You wanted to scream, to shake her out of this self-imposed delusion. But the words died in your throat.
What was the point?
It was useless. She hadn't changed a bit.
This was the same wall of denial you'd run up against so many times before, a fortress built to keep the pain at bay. But you were done banging your head against it.
"I'm going to bed," you choked out, the words barely audible. You turned and fled, each step a retreat from the battlefield you had lost long ago.
The familiar smell of her cooking, now made you want to throw up.
─── ·✧· ───
Each step creaked as you climbed the familiar stairs, the once vibrant floral carpet now muted and worn beneath your feet.
Nothing had changed.
Your childhood bedroom, untouched since you'd left. Your mother hadn't changed a thing. Same striped bedspread. Dusty neurology textbooks still lined the shelves. Moonlight filtered through the threadbare curtains, casting elongated shadows across the walls.
It was all achingly familiar, yet utterly foreign.
You collapsed onto the bed and starred up at the cracks in the aging ceiling. That goddamn lavender smell all around you. Your mother seemed to have sprayed the air freshener everywhere — some habit she had developed after your father's death.
She wanted the house to smell good for his return.
Your head began to throb.
Then, a soft knock at the door. "Can I come in?" Satoru's voice broke the silence.
You mumbled a weak assent. He entered, closing the door softly behind him.
"Could you calm her down a little?"
"I did my best," he said. "She's sleeping now."
"I told you she's different."
He walked over to you. "She's in denial, probably a prolonged grief disorder. Is she in therapy?"
"She won't go." You rolled onto your side, your back to him. "I've tried."
Wordlessly, Satoru slipped onto the bed beside you, his warmth enveloping you as he nestled against your back. His arms encircled you, pulling you close until your back was pressed against his chest. His hand found your hair, fingers threading through the strands.
You didn't resist.
You knew you were crossing lines again, lines that should remain clear. But in that moment, the exhaustion, the heartache, the years of repressed grief — it all became too much.
You just wanted to be near him, damn the consequences.
So you surrendered, your body relaxing against his. You could feel his breathing, the steady beat of his heart against your shoulder. Slowly, the tension eased from your shoulders, replaced by a weariness you could no longer fight.
"My mother lost it after his death," you whispered. "She shut down completely. Wouldn't leave the house, wouldn't eat... wouldn't even speak. I had to take care of everything, the house, the bills, keep her from falling apart. It got better, eventually. But those first few months were a living nightmare."
"I know she lost her husband." Your voice caught in your throat. "But I lost my father. I was grieving too."
Satoru listened, his fingers gently stroking your hair as you continued.
"I couldn't take it anymore. It was hell." You swallowed against the burn of tears. "I was so relieved when Suguru offered me a way out, a chance to transfer to Tokyo, to leave it all behind, move far away, away from here. I never looked back, never came back. I left her alone. I couldn't anymore. I hate this place."
It was humiliating — a shameful admission of weakness you'd never dared to voice aloud. But now it escaped your lips, you simply couldn't hold it in any longer.
You never wanted him to see this side of you, the weak, helpless girl who'd run from her responsibilities, the broken girl you tried to bury beneath layers of ambition and scientific accomplishment.
"Do you think I'm a terrible person?"
Satoru's hand stilled in your hair. "No," he whispered. "You were a child, forced to grow up too fast, forced to take on too much responsibility. Walking away from that doesn't make you a bad person, it makes you human."
"But why does it feel so wrong? I should have been there, I should have—"
"Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is to walk away from the things that hurt us," he interrupted gently. "You were protecting yourself. That doesn't make you bad, it makes you brave."
"I'm not so sure."
He pulled you closer, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Nothing you do, nothing you could ever do, would make me think less of you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "No matter what you've done, I'll always love you. You can't scare me."
How could he say that now?
How could he offer this unwavering love while dismissing your own?
Did he think you were so weak, so easily scared by his mess?
How could he not believe you, when you'd sworn the very same words to him?
It was a painful irony, a hypocrisy that made your stomach churn. He was so convinced you would abandon him, so afraid of your judgment, but couldn't he see?
You wouldn't leave him. You couldn't.
He didn't need to be perfect. He didn't need to be whole. He just needed to be himself. You loved him, flaws and all, and you were willing to fight for him, even if it meant fighting against your own better judgment.
The unfairness of it all made you want to scream. But all you could do was remain close to him, the warmth of his body a painful reminder of the love that could have been, the trust that had been shattered.
"I hate you," you whispered. "I hate how easy this is for you, how you can be so damn controlled even when you're high. It should be harder for you, shouldn't be me that falls apart."
"I've been doing this a bit longer than you, love," he murmured against your hair.
"Doing what?"
"Life."
You scoffed.
"It used to be hard," he admitted. "But it got easier over time. Now, I guess I'm just...a better person on drugs than off them."
"You really think that?"
"You see the proof, don't you?"
"So, you won't ever stop, will you?"
The silence that followed was an answer in itself. You shifted in his embrace, the darkness making his features hard to read. Even so, you could sense the defensiveness in his posture, feel the faint tremor in his hands.
"I'm afraid, Satoru."
"Of what, love?"
"That you'll kill yourself with the pills, and that I'll have to watch, unable to do anything about it."
He shook his head. "That won't happen."
"Don't fool yourself, you're not stronger than your body."
In a swift motion, he shifted, hovering over you. His hands on both side of your head. The moonlight cast stark shadows across his face, his eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away.
"That won't happen," he repeated with an intensity that sent chills down your spine. "Because how could I ever leave you? You're the last thing I want to see before sleep, the person I crave to wake up beside, the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."
He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your lips. "How could I leave, when you're the one who showed me I could still feel? Who gave me something I'm terrified to lose?"
Your breath caught in your throat. His words were cruel — reminder of what you'd lost, of the future he'd carelessly shattered — cruel reminder of the love he had no right to claim. It left a bitter taste on your tongue.
"You ended this," you whispered. "You ended us."
"I know." He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as if the weight of his confession was too much to bear. "But I'm still yours. You still have all of me."
"That's not fair."
"I know." His hands found your waist, his touch searing through your thin shirt. "I know I'm being selfish. But I can't—fuck, I can't stay away from you."
"You're just scared to be alone."
"No." His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly close until you could feel the frantic beat of his heart against your own. "It's not that. It's—" He paused, struggling to find the words. "I swear, if I could, I'd melt you into my veins, let you run through my bloodline forever."
"Satoru, I—"
"No." His lips hovered inches from yours, his mouth slightly open, a desperate plea in his eyes. "Don't—don't say anything. Not yet."
He tilted your chin upwards, his gaze searing into yours. His brow furrowed, a tense line between those striking blue eyes.
"You're carved into me. Heart, soul, every damn part of me I can't even begin to understand." His thumb brushed your lower lip. "I'm tethered to you, and I don't know how to cut the cord."
His lips hovered, a hair's breadth away from yours. His gaze flickered to your lips as he leaned impossibly close.
You ached into him, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. Weeks of forced distance, the pain of his choices, the impossible future — it all faded as you closed your eyes, surrendering to him — like you always surrendered to him.
But just as your lips were about to touch, something crossed your mind.
Tethered.
"Tethered!" You shoved him away with a sudden surge of adrenaline. Mind racing, you scrambled out of bed. You tore open drawers and rummaged through your childhood bedside table. "Where's a pen? marker?"
Satoru, momentarily stunned, watched with a furrowed brow. "What's going on?"
Then you found a marker. "No time to explain," you declared, already uncapping the marker. You walked towards the wall opposite the bed, a blank canvas of white paint. Satoru watched as you draw with the marker on the wall without a second thought.
With a flourish, you started sketching a series of diagrams, lines connecting and branching out, notes scrawled in messy handwriting beside them.
Finally, you stepped back, chest heaving. "Okay," you began, "with glioblastoma, the big problem is, how do we keep those CAR-T cells and antibodies glued to the tumor, right? How do we stop them from wandering off and screwing up the whole show?"
Satoru's eyes followed your every move, his brow still furrowed. "Yeah."
"We need a delivery system," you continued, the words tumbling out faster than you could write them. "Something that keeps those cells localized, focused on the tumor, like a...a guided missile." You stabbed the marker at the wall, emphasizing your point. "Otherwise, the treatment won't be effective. It'll just dissipate, a waste of time."
He leaned back against the headboard, rubbing his chin. "Some kind of molecular anchor, maybe?"
"Not exactly. But you're on the right track. Think smaller. Nanoparticles."
Satoru raised a questioning eyebrow. "Nano-what now?"
You grinned. "Microscopic carriers, basically. Biocompatible ones, of course. Imagine we wrap those CAR-T cells and antibodies in these little packages, and engineer them to stick to the tumor like glue."
"So they stay put, right where they need to be?"
"Exactly." You nodded. "They deliver their payload directly to the tumor, then break down harmlessly. No more stray cells wreaking havoc on healthy tissue."
"But won't the body eventually get rid of them? Immune system, natural breakdown, that kind of thing?"
"Absolutely. That's why we use biodegradable polymers for the encapsulation. They'll dissolve over time, minimizing any long-term risks. But it's—," You paused, a flicker of doubt crossing your face. "We have to figure out the exact release rate—enough time to kill the tumor, but not so long that they cause other problems."
Satoru's gaze swept across the diagrams on the wall. Then, he pushed himself off the bed and walked towards you. You held your breath as he studied your handwriting.
"So?" you asked. "What do you think?"
"Stubborn, reckless, absolutely brilliant." His azure blue eyes met yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You stubborn, reckless, absolutely brilliant woman."
Before you could react, he swept you off your feet, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as he spun you around. "Satoru!" you protested, clutching your legs around his waist, laughter bubbling up.
He stopped abruptly, holding you aloft, your bodies mere inches apart. His hands warm against your hips, your fingers threaded through his hair. Your heart hammered in your chest. But as you stared into his impossibly blue eyes, you found yourself unable to look away.
His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, then back again. "Damn it, you drive me insane."
"We have a lot of work to do."
"We always do. But this—this is different. We're going to do this. We're going to make it work."
"Are we still talking about research?"
"Of course, love," he replied, leaning closer, his lips mere millimeters from yours.
Time seemed to slow, the space between you burned. You could feel the warmth of his breath, smell his intoxicating cologne. You wanted this, wanted him with a desperation that clawed at your very soul.
But just as your lips were about to touch, he pulled back, abruptly setting you on your feet, shattering the moment like glass.
"We should get some sleep," he said. "Long drive tomorrow."
You nodded, your throat suddenly tight.
Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was for the best that he hadn't kissed you. Because deep down, you knew that if he had, you wouldn't have been able to stop.
"Yeah. We should sleep," you finally said. "You'll be sleeping on the floor, just so you know."
"Ha?"
"You think I'm letting you sleep in my bed after that?" You crossed your arms. "You can't be trusted, professor. There's a futon in the closet."
"You're kidding, right?"
─── ·✧· ───
You woke with a groan.
Rolling over, the familiar striped print of your childhood bedspread met your gaze. Sunlight filtered through the dusty curtains, casting the room in a hazy glow. Beside you, the futon was empty, the faint scent of Satoru the only evidence that he had been there at all.
Why hadn't he woken you?
Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you reached up to touch your lips. The faint ghost of his kiss still lingered on your skin. A headache threatened to rise as you hastily dismissed the memory.
Not this again.
The house creaked and groaned as you made your way downstairs. Halfway down, you froze.
There, in the sun-drenched kitchen, stood Satoru. Leaning casually against the counter, his unruly white hair seemingly catching every ray of sunlight, he looked startlingly at home. Your mother stood beside him, a genuine smile on her face as they talked.
Seeing him here, in this familiar space, in this casual domestic setting with your mother, sent a strange feeling of warmth through you. Your lips twitched upwards as you caught a glimpse of your mother's laughter, a sound that had been far too rare in recent years.
Then, as if sensing your gaze, Satoru's gaze snapped to you, his eyes brightening.
"Well, there she is!" your mother exclaimed. "Satoru was just giving me an update on your research. Sounds like you're onto something really interesting!"
Your brow furrowed. What was she talking about? She couldn't be talking about the brain tumor project. She'd rather chew glass than willingly delve back into that nightmare.
You were rooted to the stairs, exhausted and confused.
Satoru crossed the distance between you, that familiar lazy grin playing on his lips. He held out a hand. "Ready?"
"Yes," you said and reached for it. His fingers closed around yours. "Let's go back."
─── ·✧· ───
Birdsong filled the crisp autumn air.
Morning light filtered through the gnarled branches, casting dappled shadows across the porch. The chipped paint on the railing, the faded welcome mat — you never pictured yourself missing this place, your hometown, your childhood home. It was too intertwined with loss, too full of ghosts, to really miss it.
Yet, today, saying goodbye was somehow hard.
"Thank you." You gave your mother a tight hug. Her embrace was warm, reassuring, but you felt her tremble slightly. "For everything."
"Come back and visit soon, okay? And call me when you're back in Tokyo. Promise?"
"I will," you lied.
Your mother squeezed you with surprising strength. Then, with a low voice she whispered, "I think...I'll try therapy."
Stunned, you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. Why now? After years of denial? Your gaze flickered past her to find Satoru leaning against the porch railing, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. Could he — Was he behind this?
Before you could form the question, your mother turned to him. "And you! You take good care of her, you hear?"
"I will, but I also wanted to ask you something." Satoru pushed off the railing and walked over. He took your mother's hand in his, the gesture strangely formal. Then, in a move that left you momentarily stunned, he bowed slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.
His blue eyes met hers as he asked, "May I have your permission...to marry your daughter?"
Haaaaa?
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author's note: hmmm friends, i can't with soft, desperate satoru. was literally melting while writing this. but i hope this chapter gives you all a little more hope for a happy ending, haha. i know some of you were doubting after the last one (which, btw, wasn't even the lowest point yet, just sayin'). but we'll get there, promise !! Just a whole lotta chaos and hurt to get through first.
also, please don't ask me about any of the medical stuff in this chapter. i have no idea what's going on, lol. loosely based it on this study (DOI: 10.1056/NEJMoa2314390), but seriously, i don't understand any of it. just ignore anything that doesn't make sense — it's all for the sake of the plot ahaha.
also was hesitant to share too much of yn's backstory since this is technically an x reader story, but you guys wanted to know more, so i went for it. i'm so glad i did !! i think it makes her character more well-rounded and shows her vulnerabilities.
and omg, satoru being supportive no matter what? trying to make things right? i'm a sucker for that. and of course, he had to meet his future mother-in-law sometime, right? hehe. but don't worry, we'll also dive into satoru's past and how it shaped him in future chapters.
one last thing note on suguru: this won't turn into a love triangle. reader's heart belongs to satoru, and while suguru's feelings will be there, it'll be more of an undercurrent than a major plot point. so, no worries there !!
and lastly, thank you so much for reading. your support means the world. seriously, you make this whole writing thing so much fun !! so thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ask for !! <3
🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn @browrm @hfdkhjghjkghfj @marcillyan @roses-and-reeses @yungbloode (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future, this way it's easier for me to keep track!)
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