#( i just had the image of the doctor running as fast as he could down the pier. yelling )

[orcasoul]

Broken Part 3

Summary: Din is on the brink of death. The only way to save him is to remove his helmet. Surely he'll understand and forgive you... right?

Warnings: Swearing, description of injuries, angst, established relationship, use of Y/N.

A/N: the amount of comments and re-blogs for the first two parts of this story has blown me away. Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read this, and for all the love and support.

Word Count: 5,503

The world ceased to exist for Din the moment he saw your limp body sprawled on the floor. All that remains now is you; all that matters is you. He doesn't even remember closing the gap to get to you. One second he's frozen with fear and the next he's at your side, cradling your face in both hands. "Cyar'ika? Sweetheart, can you hear me?! Can you open your eyes?!" The tremble in Din's hands have now moved to his vocal chords, each word laced with worry and regret. "Come on, sweet girl. I need you to open your eyes." Din begs, gently tapping your cheek, but you give no response.

He's sure your eyes were open a moment ago.... or maybe it was wishful thinking, his mind conjuring up the image to give him hope. Ripping a glove off, he feels for your pulse. You're alive but your pulse is... wrong. It's much too fast. That combined with the trembling and sweat soaking your skin, it can only mean one thing; a blood infection. Din pulls up your blood encrusted shirt and gently removes your makeshift bandage to reveal an inflamed and angry looking blaster wound. "Dank farrick!" Din curses under his breath.

He'd had his fair share of infected wounds throughout the years, so he knows just how bad this can get. Guilt begins to consume him, the intensity threatening to drag him down into a pit of despair. He caused this. This is his fault. He'd abandoned you when all you did was love him. And now, this is what you have to show for that love. He'll never forgive himself if you... nope, that won't happen. "It's okay, Cyare. I've got you, I've got you," Din whispers as puts his glove on, then slides an arm under your back and the other under your knees.

He stands slowly with you, not wanting to aggravate your wound and tucks your head into his chest. A pained moan wheezes past your blue tinted lips. "Kriff, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Din's heart sinks at hearing you in pain, hoping you'll never have to make that sound again. You won't if he has his way. "I'm gonna get you help and then I'm taking you home," Din promised, then ran from the cave and back towards the village.

By the time he got close to the village, Din could barely walk. Almost an hour of continuous running had pretty much pushed him to the edge of his endurance. But every second was critical, so he'd pushed and pushed his now exhausted body, ignoring the protest of his lungs, his limbs and his back. He almost cried with relief when entering the village, falling to his knees and holding you tight. "Help! Somebody help her, quick!" Din screamed as loud as he could.

A group of villagers ran to where Din had collapsed, a few of them quickly taking you from his arms and into a large hut, while yelling at others to find the village doctor. "Where are... they... taking her?" Din asked, breathlessly. "Medical bay," a man answered, as he and another man helped Din to his feet, each draping his arms over their shoulders. "They'll take good care of her, promise." Din straightened, nodded his thanks to the men and on wobbly legs followed you into the hut.

Din felt utterly useless as he sat and watched the doctor and nurses tend to you. He wants to help, every instinct screaming at him to do something, but he can't. All he can do is sit and stare numbly at your deathly pale face and slowly rising chest. You've never looked so fragile before and it takes all of his willpower to not fall apart right then and there. He silently observes the medical team as they hook you up to a drip and monitor (courtesy of the New Republic, along with a generator and more modern equipment) and clean and stitch the wound on your side.

And in all this time you haven't even flinched. Was he too late? Do you even have the strength left to survive this? Din is pulled from his anxious thoughts by a hand on his shoulder and a soft but professional voice addressing him. "Mando?..." the doctor began, waiting until Din's helmet turned his way. "We've closed the wound and administered antibiotics to fight the infection. She's lost a lot of blood and is very weak. We're trying to bring her temperature down to a safe level, but all we can do now is wait. It's up to her now; she has to fight it."

"I understand," Din replied sorrowfully. "Thank you for everything." "Of course," the doctor nodded and lightly squeezed Din's shoulder. "We'll give you some privacy." He cocked his head at the nurses, silently gesturing for them to follow him. Din sat beside you, at a loss for words. How could he have let this happen? If he hadn't been so closed minded, so damn stubborn and proud, if he'd just talked things through with you as you'd begged him to do, you wouldn't be here now, fighting for your life. You'd saved his life and he'd almost cost you yours. He doesn't deserve your forgiveness. But if by some miracle, you do forgive him and give him another chance, he'll never take you for granted and never leave you again, no matter what.

Din removes his gloves, desperately needing to feel you, skin to skin. Taking your smaller hand in his, he closes his eyes and just allows himself to feel. The softness of your skin, the warmth, the ridges of your knuckles. How he'd missed you! "Cyar'ika, I don't know if you can hear me..." Din murmured, guilt eating him alive, "But if you can, I want you to know how sorry I am for everything I've put you through. For everything I said. I was wrong and stupid. I want to make things right, so you have to fight. I know you can; I know how strong you are. Just... don't give up." Din prays you can hear him, but if you can, your still body shows no sign of recognition.

Sweat trickles down your forehead due to your fever. Din reaches into a bucket of iced water set beside your bed and rings out a cloth, placing it on your forehead. "Can we come in?" Din looks over his shoulder to see Omera and Winta by the entrance of the hut. With a silent nod, he beckons them in. They stand on the opposite side of the bed, Omera holding your other hand, while Winta leans down to lay her head by yours, arm slung over your chest in a gentle hug. "Is she gonna be okay now?" Winta looks at Din, eyes full of hope. Her expectant and pleading expression brings a crushing weight of uncertainty to settle inside Din's chest, because honestly, he doesn't know.

"Um..." Din clears his throat, "I hope so. It's too early to tell right now, but the doctors and nurses are doing all they can for her. Only time will tell." "What happened?" Omera asked through held back tears. Din looked from Omera to Winta and back to Omera again. Omera, understanding what Din is trying to silently convey - that this is not something a child should hear - gently places her hand on Winta's shoulder and asks her to wait outside. Winta places a kiss on your cheek and leaves. Omera takes a seat beside the bed. "Tell me," she urges, softly. "I found her..." Din's tone becomes frustrated, "Bleeding to death on a kriffing cave floor! She was all alone. I never should have left her; this is all my fault." Admitting it out loud just makes Din even more angry with himself.

"It's not your fault," Omera insists. "You couldn't have known this was going to happen." "But she shouldn't have been here inthe first place. She should have been home with me, safe." A moment of awkward silence passes before Din asks, "Did... she tell you what happened?" "Yes," Omera nodded. Din sighed. "I failed her." "You're here now. That's what matters. I'm not taking sides here, you're both my friends, but you should know she hasn't been herself since you left, more like she's been a shell of herself. She's missed you, so much. You and Grogu are her life. She's been so lost without you both."

Omera's words hit Din more brutally than that Mudhorn did back on Arvala - 7. He thought he couldn't feel any worse, but he was wrong. "Dank farrick!" Din swore, quietly, feeling sick at the thought of what he's done to you. "I... I don't know how to make this right." Din's shoulders slump in defeat. "Start by being here for her now. That's all you can do... until she wakes up," Omera offered, sympathetically. Din nodded. "Thank you for looking after her." Omera looked at you with a sad smile. "There's no need to thank me. She's family." Din's heart warmed at Omera affection for you. Gripping your hand tighter, he looks at your peaceful face and with conviction he replies, "Yes, she is."

The nurse returned a few minutes later to check on you. Omera took her leave - not wanting to impose - telling Din she's here for him if he needs her. Din held onto your hand the entire time the nurse fussed about you. "Hmm... her temperature's still a little high," she frowned, "Other than that, she seems to be doing okay." Din didn't get a chance to respond as your hand suddenly tightened around his and your whole body began to violently convulse. "What's-" "She's having a seizure!" the nurse exclaimed, grabbing an extra pillow to place above your head so you don't hit it on the headboard.

Din shot to his feet, ready to hold you, to comfort you. "Don't touch her!" the nurse warned. "You could hurt her if you try to restrict her movements." "Well... what do we do?!" Din shouted, feeling like he's about to lose his damn mind. "She just has to go through it I'm afraid. She's fitting because of the fever. These seizures look frightening, but they're normally quite harmless," the nurse reassured. As if that's any comfort right now. After what felt like an eternity - but was only a couple of minutes, according to the nurse - your jolting body began to calm until you were still once again.

Din released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. The nurse checked your vitals again. "She stable now. I'll come back to check on her in an hour," she informed Din with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, before leaving the hut. As soon as the coast was clear, Din ripped his helmet off, dropping it by his feet without regard. He quickly but gently placed both hands on your cheeks and rested his forehead against yours, his tears dripping onto your face. "Don't you ever frighten me like that again! Do you hear me?!... Never again." The last two words came out in a choked whisper. Din kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. "Please my love, don't leave me."

Din winced internally the second those words left his mouth; those very same words that had been haunting him in his sleep. The last words you had said to him. Din reached for the cloth that had fallen on the floor during your fit, dunked it in the bucket and placed it back on your forehead before reaching for his helmet. He knows anyone could walk in at any moment, so it's best not to tempt fate. He places it back on and for the first time since taking the creed the helmet feels like a barrier instead of a comfort, the inch of Beskar separating you feeling more like a thousand miles.

The next several hours went by in a surreal blur for Din as he watched the doctor and nurses taking care of you, and also watching you for any indication of waking. They were even kind enough to bring him food since he never left the hut. The evening drifted into night, the whole village becoming quieter as everyone settled into their homes. Din remained glued to your bedside, politely refusing the offer of a hut to rest in.

He will not be more than a few feet away from you. A nurse assured him no one would enter again until morning - unless in case of an emergency, of course - so he can remove his helmet if he wishes. Din prepared himself to sit vigil with you all night. He took off his helmet and breathed deeply. If you wake tonight, his face is the first thing he wants you to see.

Sound is the first thing you notice, crickets chirping distantly, a strange beeping and... a voice? It sounds distorted, the words not making any sense to you. An involuntary whimper escapes you as you try to move your head, which at this moment, feels like a ten tonne boulder. In your hazy state, you feel something touching your face, smoothing featherlight strokes across you cheek. The voice is becoming louder, clearer as your mind begins to catch up with your body. It sounds familiar and you use it as a beacon to hone in on. Your eyelids fight against your will to open but you finally manage to do so, only to be met with blurry vision.

A few more blinks and your vision clears, focusing on the once blurry figure hovering over you. A face, but not just any face. Brown eyes, vulnerable and cautious, but also filled with relief and tenderness stare back at you. Brown floppy locks drape over his forehead and salt and pepper stubble adorn his jaw. You are completely taken aback. Are you dead? Or is your mind playing another cruel trick on you? "Hi, Cyare..." a voice you never thought you'd hear again whispers lovingly. It's that which snaps you from your stupor, confirming that you are alive and he's here!

"Din?!" your voice croaks harshly from disuse, scraping your throat on the way out. "Shhh..." Din continues to smooth the apple of your cheek. "Try not to speak Y/N? You're safe now." Your eyes shoot around the room, confusion and panic overtaking your senses. "You're in the village..." Din's low timbre brings an instant calm to you. "You're going to be okay." You try to get up but a sharp pain flashes through your torso causing you to gasp. Din's hands are pressed to your shoulders, gently but firmly holding you down, "Don't move. You'll tear the stitches," he tells you. Stitches? Then it all comes back to you; the attack on the village, the blaster shot and the cave.

Your eyes fall on Din's again and you panic. "Oh shit!" you gasp, weakly and shut your eyes tight, turning your head away. "Y...your helmet! Where's your helmet?!" Your heart beats wildly in your chest, guilt and alarm filling you once more. Maybe he forgot to put it back on, and now I've broken his creed, again! You bite your lower lip in worry, awaiting the inevitable chastisement... only it never comes. "Y/N?" Din's bare hand cups your jaw, turning your head to face him. "It's okay, look at me." You remain frozen, eyelids firmly locked in place, unsure of what you should do. "Please, Cyar'ika..." Din's voice is calm, soothing. "Open your eyes. I want you to see me."

It was with trepidation you slowly opened your eyes, Din's warm smile instantly easing your anxiety. Heaven's that smile! It would have floored you if you'd hadn't already been laying down. "There you are," Din said warmly. Too much is happening to fast for you to comprehend. "Din?... What?... How?" you stutter after every word, a part of you still unable to believe he's here. "I came for you, "Din interjected with purpose. "When I heard what happened, I couldn't get here fast enough. And when I couldn't find you I..." Din's voice shuddered, "I thought I'd lost you forever. I was so afraid."

The raw devastation of Din's voice along with the wretched fear in his eyes stabbed you right through the heart, releasing a torrent of tears; tears of heartbreak, of frustration, of relief and of love all mixed together in one huge outpouring of emotion. At once, Din's hands found your cheeks and he lowered his forehead to yours. "I am so so sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I was a fool. I love you." He gently pressed his lips to yours and, even though he'd hurt you, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his keck, returning the kiss and holding him close. "I love you, too." You couldn't deny it, deny him. You didn't want to.

Din slowly pulled his lips from yours, placing a delicate kiss to your forehead. "You should rest now, Cyare. Your body needs it. We'll talk more when you're stronger." "Wait!" You grip Din's wrist in panic. "You're not leaving, right?! You'll be here when I wake up?" Din smiled and kissed the back of your hand. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart, I promise." With that reassurance, you allow yourself to drift off once more.

When you awoke again it was to the poking and prodding of fingers checking your pulse, you temperature and your wound. "How are you feeling Y/N?" a kind older voice asked. "Mmm... thirsty..." you cough as your parched throat sticks together. Din appears immediately, holding a cup of water and a straw in front of you so you don't have to move. "Well, the good news is you're going to be fine," the doctor says, encouragingly. "And the bad news?...." you question, cautiously. "The injury you sustained was quite deep, so you'll have to take it easy for several weeks while you're healing. I know how you like to keep yourself busy," he adds with an apologetic look. "When you're feeling up to it I'll get you some soup. He places a hand on your shoulder and you thank him before he leaves.

Moments later a soft hiss turn your focus to Din as he removes his helmet. Your first thought is to shut your eyes and turn away, but you stop yourself. Din wants you to see him and, damn it, you want to see him too. The other two times you had seen him had been under dire circumstances but now... now you get to really see him and he takes your breath away. Your eyes trace every slope and contour of his features, taking your time to really appreciate just how devastatingly handsome he is. It feels wrong that he's had to hide such beauty for most of his life. Din offers a sheepish smile. "Hi," he breathes out quietly. It's obvious he's been in great emotional turmoil as he looks at you filled with remorse and with teary eyes.

"You stayed," you sigh in relief. "Of course I did," asserted Din, as if the thought of him doing anything other than stay is ludacris. "I told you I'm not going anywhere." You couldn't help but begin to cry again. Din brought a hand to your face, gently wiping your tears. "Hey, hey, you're okay." he whispered, fighting back his own tears. It kills him to see you in this state. "It's okay. Let it out. I've got you, I've got you." He so badly wants to gather you into his arms and tuck you into his chest as you fall apart, but he can't move you yet so he settles for resting his forehead against yours again. "I was... so...f...frightened!" you whimper between sobs, gripping onto his wrists for comfort. Hearing such intense fear in your words finally broke Din. His sobs joined yours, unashamedly.

"I don't know where to even begin," he choked out, "I'm so sorry.... fuck," he huffed at himself, sitting back to look you in the eyes. "I know that's not enough. There are no words to express just how sorry I am. I hurt you, and not just you, but Grogu too. I hurt the two most important people in my life. What kind of man does that?!" You can feel the self loathing radiating off of Din and it's agonising to witness. Before you can offer any comfort, Din continues, "I was so caught up in my dedication to The Way of the Mandalore that I refused to accept your perspective. I refused to see anything beyond the creed." Din hung his head in shame. "I was wrong and for that I'll always be sorry."

Wow! You weren't expecting that. The creed is everything to DIn, so for him to put you before it shows you just how much he must still love you. "What made you change your mind?" you ask in bewilderment. Din looked back to you and chuckled, lightly. "I had some sense knocked into me by Karga. He said some things I needed to hear." The corner of your mouth ticks up in an amused smirk. "I guess I owe him one." Both of your smiles faded as the tension still lingered. "How's Grogu?" You fight to keep from choking up again at the thought of him. Din rubs the back of his neck. "He's uh... he's okay, but he's missed you terribly."

Your heart aches for your poor liittle boy. "I missed him too, both of you. Is he here?" "No, he's with Karga. I didn't want to bring him in case..." Din trailed off, bile rising up his throat at the thought of finishing that sentence. Even though you feel the sting of disappointment, you nod in understanding. The last thing you want is for Grogu to see you like this. As long as he's okay, that'll be comfort enough for now. Do you need anything?" Din asks, breaking the silence that has fallen again. "Yeah. Could you help me sit up?" "You shouldn't move," Din insists, worry lacing his voice. "Please?..." you shift awkwardly, "I just need to change position."

Reluctantly Din nodded and stood over you, threading his arms under yours and around your back. Stars! You've missed his touch, the comforting warmth of his body against yours, even through his armour. "Easy now," Din cautioned as he carefully lifts you to a sitting position. You suck in sharply through your teeth as a sudden sharp pain spreads through your side. You feel Din tense in in response. "I'm okay," you reassure him. Din sat you back against the headboard and sat on the edge of the bed. "No, you're not okay. Nothing about this is okay. Not the way I treated you or the things I said. Dank farrick.! You almost died because of me!"

Din is on the verge of completely losing it. The only other time you'd seen him like this was when Grogu was taken by the Dark Troopers. "Din." You grab his hand, holding tight to ground him. "This isn't your fault. No one could have foreseen this." Din shook his head vehemently, unwilling to accept your words. "I should never have left you here. You should have been with me. Kriff, when I think back to the things I said to you..." Din lifts his head t the ceiling, rolls his eyes back and sighs. "It was cruel and I was wrong. I trust you. I was just so blinded by my arrogance, but deep down, I guess I understood why you had to remove my helmet. I just wouldn't admit it to myself, so I lashed out at you."

Din's fingers tighten around yours. "The truth is, if it were the other way around and you were hurt, I'd do the same thing." "Oh, Din." Tears burn your eyes as he lays his soul bare. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course, Cyare." Din smoothes the back of your hand, a silent gesture for you to continue. "Why now? Why are you allowing me to see you now? What about the creed? I know it's important to you." " It is," Din agreed, 'But you are far more important, and I wanted to show you just how important you are to me." You have no words, your eyes and heartfelt smile telling him what you cannot put into words. "I uh... I don't expect you to forgive me right now, I don't deserve it. But if you'll come home with me, I'll wait for as long as you need to-"

"Shhh..." you press a finger to Din's lips and look into his brown puppy dog eyes with tenderness. "I've already forgiven you, Ner Karta." Din is stunned! "W... what? Why?" He can't comprehend why you're so willing to forgive him, after all the pain he's caused. You reach over to stroke his cheek, feeling the rough stubble tickle your fingertips. "Back in the cave... I'd accepted I was going to die," you sniffle as you remember the feeling of despair that came with said acceptance. "All I could think about were you and Grogu, and I realised... I didn't want to die being angry with you. I wanted to go with only love in my heart, so in that moment I chose to forgive you."

Din exhaled as if he'd been punched in the chest. He's in complete awe of you. He'd hurt you beyond measure, almost gotten you killed and you still found it in your heart to forgive him. "I don't deserve your forgiveness," he mumbled in disgust at himself, eyes cast down. "I don't deserve you." You gently hook your fingers under his chin, lifting his head up so that you're looking into each others eyes. "Yes you do," you declare with certainty, "Everyone deserves a second chance, Cayare." Din closed his hand over yours resting on his cheek and, pulling it away, brushed a soft kiss on your palm. "I promise I will never hurt you like that again. No matter what problems come our way, we'll handle them together." "Together," you repeated breathily.

Din stared longingly into you eyes for a moment, then leaned into your face and you met him halfway, your lips joining in a delicate sweep, gently at first but becoming more intense as the seconds passed. His hands slowly slide up your arms and around your back, pulling you closer as he groaned into your now open mouth, his tongue caressing yours. You loop your arms around his neck, relishing in the familiar taste and feel you've been needing but denied for so long. It's as if an invisible weight has been lifted from your soul, all the anguish and sorrow floating away into the ether. In it's place; love, relief and the promise of renewal. You feel reborn. You slowly pull away from Din's plush lips, bury your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent of leather, gunpowder and something uniquely him.

Everything around you stills as you hold each other and just exist in this moment. "I love you so much," Din purrs into your ear. "I love you too," you reply, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I promise..." Din begins, straightening up and tucking your hair behind your ear, "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you." You chuckle quietly and shake your head. "That's not what I want." Din looks at you, confusion crinkling his brow. "I don't want you to live in guilt everyday. All I want is my family back and to move on from this. Can I have that?" Din's features soften and he smiles in understanding. "Meshla, you can have anything you want."

You pull din in for another kiss, this time a bit more forcefully. His eyes widen and he chuckles in response. Din finishes the kiss with little pecks to your nose, making you giggle. "Din?" "Mmm?" "Did you mean it?" Din tilted his head in question. You've seen him do that often with his helmet on and seeing him do it now without it is adorable. "Mean what?" "That I can have anything I want?" "Anything!" he declared with passion, holding onto your arms. You throw him a cheeky grin. "Can you get me some soup? I'm starving."

Din's shoulders relaxed and he laughed endearingly. "Of course. I'll be right back." He put on his helmet and walked to the entrance, stopping to look at you once more before leaving. Slumping back you lean your head against the headboard and sigh happily in sheer relief. It's over. This whole nightmare is finally over and in the past where it belongs. Your heart is finally at peace.

Two days later you're given the all clear by the doctor. As you finish packing your belongings into your bag a pair of strong arms wrap around your body in a loving embrace. You lean your head back onto Din's shoulder pauldron, close your eyes and hum in contentment. "All packed, Cyarika?" "All packed," you beam as you turn in his arms and plant a kiss on his helmet. "I almost forgot..." Din reaches into a pocket, your jaw dropping as he pulls out your beaded bracelet (now cleaned from dirt and blood). With a gasp you take it, looking it over in disbelief. "I found it not too far from the cave." "I thought I'd lost it," you exclaim, voice cracking with emotion. "Thank you!"

You slide it onto your wrist and wrap your arms around Din's waist, hugging him tightly. Din brings his hand to the back of your head, gently stroking your hair. "I can't wait to hold Grogu again," you gush into Din's chest. "He'll be overjoyed to have his mother back." You lift your head from his chest, your eyes gleaming with excitement. "Does he know I'm coming home? Have you told him?" A small chuckle came through the vocoder. "No, I thought we'd surprise him." You couldn't contain the massive grin that spread from cheek to cheek as you imagine the soon to be reunion with your son.

Just as you turn to reach for your bag, Din grabs it, slinging it over his shoulder. "I can carry the bag. It's not heavy," you protest teasingly with your hands on your hips. "Your not carrying anything until you're fully healed." You know that finality in his tone too well. "Bossy!" you roll your eyes in jest. "Yep," Din replied, popping the P for emphasis. He wrapped his arm around you and under your arm to support you, since walking is still slow and painful for you. Outside the hut a group of people had come to see the two of you off. Omera and Winta held onto you like there was no tomorrow.

"I never would have gotten through the last month without you," you whispered to Omera, trying to hold back your tears. "You're the best friend I've ever had." "Promise you'll visit us soon," Omera pressed. "I Promise," you smiled. "Will you bring Grogu with you?" Winta asked, excitedly. "Do you really think he'd allow me to come without him?" you laughed fondly as you pictured his little face. Winta giggled and you pulled them both into another hug. "I'll miss you both so much." "We'll miss you too," Omera said sadly. While saying your goodbyes and thanks to the others, Din approached Omera. "Thank you," Din exclaimed, "For everything. For being there for her." He knows he owes Omera a debt he can never repay.

"Of course," she smiled softly at him. "I'm just so glad you two could work things out." "Me too," Din smiled to himself. He looked down at Winta and patted her head affectionately, "Take care, you two." Din walked over to you, placing his hand at the small of your back. "Ready?" You smile and nod and Din holds onto you gently yet firmly as you slowly make your way to the the Razor Crest. Oh, how you've missed this big hunk of junk! You settle in the co-pilot's seat in the cockpit, the smells and sounds you'd taken for granted welcoming you back in their own way, and you take a moment to appreciate everything around you, even the way Din so expertly prepares the controls for take off.

Din turns to you, lacing his fingers through yours on your lap. "You ready to go home, Meshla?" he asks you, lovingly. You smile, placing your other hand over his. "I'm ready." Din returns to the controls, somehow managing to pilot the ship one handed while still holding your hand. The Crest rattles and shakes as it ascends, every minute bringing you closer to home, closer to Grogu. Silent tears begin to fall, but for the first time in a long time, the tears are not of sadness, but of joy.

@picketniffler @johnssherlock221 @nicolebarnes

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

Put your hand on my shoulder

Jiaoqiu x fem!reader smut. +18 under cut.

Includes soft sex and pussydrunk doctor.

Masterlist

Slender, long fingers carresed your face, following the shape of your nose, tracing your cheekbones and jaw, as if he tried to engrave every part of you in his mind, paint the image of you behind his blinded eyes so he never forgets how beautiful you used to look under him. He could feel your smile on his fingertips before you kissed them and teasingly sucked on his fingers, earning a quiet hiss out of him.

Now that he lost his sight every other sense sharpened to make up for it. When he touched your skin he felt just how soft and warm it is, his palms became source of pleasure not only for you but also for him. Jiaoqiu leaned down to lick across your neck and collarbones, intoxicating scent and taste of your skin filled his senses, taking away his self control. He craved to be buried deep into your warmth, till your scents mix perfectly with each other and you are marked with his smell just as he is with yours, making it obvious to everybody that you belong to each other. A perfect mating couple, impossible to separate. Jiaoqiu wished to fill your soul with his essence and you mind with thoughts about him and him only, so nobody can ever steal you away.

His hands seeked out your hips and his mouth moved down, sucking soft flesh of your breast into his greedy mouth. Encouraged by shivers that run through you foxian massaged your hips in slow, circular motion as he licked a straight line from your chest to your bellybutton. You giggled when the tip of his tongue tickled sensitive skin of your belly, and he pulled away for a second to open up your legs for him. Jiaoqiu kissed right above your clit, taking in your musky scent, then he dived into your pussy, breathing you in. Your hands found their way to his hair, scratching around his ears. He feasted on you, alternating between teasing your fragile bud and making out with your hole, his talented tongue targeting every right spot with surgeon-like precision and perfect understanding of your anatomy.

You cried out of pleasure, overwhelmed by his endless passion for your taste. Jiaoqiu was definitely a big foodie and he couldn't resist such a sweet treat right in front of him. He ate you out as if you were the best meal he ever had, and he didn't plan to waste a single drop. Jiaoqiu fed his pride on your sweet voice, letting every single praise get to his head.

Your release came so fast it surprised both of you, never before have you came so hard. When you opened your eyes you saw Jiaoqiu rising slightly from between your thighs with the most cocky grin you have ever seen.

- Do you mind if I ask for seconds, darling?

[flw3rrr]

My forever dove

Paring: Billy the kid X fem!reader

Rating: 18+ NSFW MDNI

word count: 4.2k

Summary: wanted for murder. You escape to an old friend's house to find shelter, gaining safety from the law hunting you down. when suddenly Billy sees your face plastered onto a wanted flyer.

Warnings: alcohol usage, unprotected PnV (wrap it up), Oral (Fem receiving), Swearing, fingering, Betrayal, Death, murder, plot twist at the end, No happy ending, NOT PROOFREAD, rifles/guns, no description of reader, No mentions of Y/n.

Please 100% let me know if I missed any warnings! my inbox Is open and free for ask's and requests

Bold = Flashbacks (Note: Had to save this to post for when the new episodes came out <3 )

The sky was dark and gray, as the clouds were gray and threatened to rain any second. Thunder is heard in the distance as you arrive at an old friend's farm house. The farm wasn't really alone in the middle of nowhere; there were other houses in the distance, but they were far away for privacy. Knocking onto the door as tiny droplets of rain had begun to fall and hit the dirt ground, awaiting your friend's response.

You'd been running from the law for quite some time after having an accidental run-in with someone, which caused the gentleman to lose his own life. But in your defense, he earned it after you saved a couple of people from him. He was yelling and screaming and took out his pocket knife. An instant reaction came from your body as you tackled him to the ground, resulting in cuts and clothing being ripped when your hand suddenly knocked the knife from his hand, which landed into his throat.

But before you could get any words out to the law, you were defending yourself and explaining how you tried to hold him down to save those strangers, but there was no mercy, calling you a heartless and unlady person, quickly getting up and running away before your leg was shot. Not noticing it for quite some time as your adrenaline was pumping quickly, running as fast as you could before falling to the ground, a numb, painful, cold yet warm feeling as you looked to see a dark red liquid pour out of your leg along with a trail.

Your thoughts were blank in confusion as you processed the image in front of you. Your vision began to go blurry as you saw the outlines of the lawmen running to get you. Before the darkness consumed you. Coming back to your realization, your friend opened the door for you. "What are you doing here?" She spoke in confusion and worry, seeing your pale, tired face. "Oh Mary, thank God you opened. Please just let me in, and I'll explain everything," letting out a sigh of relief as the door opened wider.

The second you stood foot into the house, the rain began to downpour aggressively. Mary guided you to take a seat at the wooden table, handing you a drink to warm you up. "So why have you come here as if you just had a worrying moment or as if you saw a ghost?" Her words filled up with concern, yet a serious expression was seen on her face. Looking up at her with a painful look and glossy eyes before opening your mouth to explain everything, start to finish.

Your senses slowly came to you as your eyes slowly blinked open as you heard voices speak in the distance, talking, yet you could not comprehend what they were saying. Slowly leaning up, your eyes wander to your leg, seeing a white bandage wrapped around it, though it hurts to move. "Ah, it seems you're awake now; the doctor came by and removed the bullet. gotta keep you alive to give you a trial at least." The sheriff laughed at the end as he sat behind his desk. You tried to sit on the edge, but the pain prevented you from moving more than you could have, forcing you to sit in an uncomfortable way.

Looking at the sheriff before speaking to him. "But I am innocent. I was only stopping the man from harming those people. They saw me; just ask them, and they would tell you I was trying to protect them." The words you spoke hurt your throat. Dry and desperate for a drink to relieve the pain sensation.

A laugh was heard from the sheriff, who was shaking his head as he laughed before speaking once more. "Lucky for you, Miss. I did my research and asked them. They said you attacked them. That's all I needed to know—you were the wrong one and a danger to this town." Standing up immediately, the sting and major pain shot through your leg, and you grabbed onto the bars of the cell.

"They are lying; I swear, I was only protecting them; they are the ones who lie, not me!" You yelled in despair to defend yourself. The sheriff just shakes his head as if you were speaking riddles and jokes, not taking you seriously. "You can say that all you'd want. it’s what they all say, but nothing happens." He walked off to another room, leaving you alone and in great pain. But four days later, you managed to escape with a few others who were arrested and were sent to hang with you. Kindly, they guided you away through the bricks of the wall as your leg was still healing. Leaving you to take a horse and begin your journey to Mary's farm.

Mary spoke your name softly, placing her hand above yours that laid on the table. "So now you're wanted and to be sent to death." You nodded slowly, a slight panic in your face as you suddenly remembered someone you knew a long time ago: Billy. Your good friend, your old lover, somebody who understood you and treated you with the most kindness you ever had gotten. You heard he had gotten a name for himself and was known to almost every lawman in the towns. Now both of you were in the same boat, yet he had more experience than you. praying silently that he'd find you before the law did.

Mary looked to the side before speaking up, almost unheard, as a loud crack of thunder cried out. "I'll try my best to hide you, but you know I won't be able to forever." Stating as she looked you in the eye with a serious tone. Mary was known for being honest, never doing dirty work, and never lying to those she spoke with, including never lying to the law. Knowing deep down this played something big in her life, you agreed to stay for a while, and once your leg healed, you would flee farther away from here.

Taking her hands and playing your forehead on them, giving a silent thank you, and looking up at her with gratitude. "Thank you, thank you, Mary. Thank you so much. I'll never ask again, I promise." feeling the weight of fear dissolve from your body. 

Mary led you to a guest room that was small but yet had a warm bed, and that's all you cared about, giving your body the proper care to fully heal and rest. The rain was still pouring hard, but it always sang you to slumber as a child growing up.

being left alone to dress in a loaned nightgown from Mary and fresh wraps to wrap around your leg, hissing as you cleaned it from a little whiskey, which your good friend also handed with a clean cloth, making sure your night was painless as it was for the past four days.

Once, after getting into the bed all clean and comfortable, you sigh out of gratitude, thankful for being safe as long as God has granted you. Leaving the candle flame to dance until it burned out. Letting slumber claim your exhausted body to comfort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy walked into a saloon with Jesse and a few other men for a drink as a celebration for a good day's work. Walking up to the man who ran the bar, signaling for a whiskey. "This time, don't be worried about getting all out, 'ight?" Jumping from the slap onto his shoulder, Billy looked at Jesse before smiling, "Don't have to worry 'bout me. I'll just do fine."

His head looked around the saloon, looking at the decor and seeing drunk fools tumble over anything and even nothing. Then his eyes land on a wanted board... In one of the sketches, looking a little too familiar, he took a last swig before walking over.

Just as he reached up to the bulletboard, he admired the sketch of the woman, upon his eyes landing to see your name. You, his dove The name of your favorite bird, which you found breathtaking and admirable. Looking around the room to see if anyone was paying attention, he took the paper off, shoving it into his pocket. Jumping at the noise of a man behind him, he turned to see a man, half blind in his left eye, with hair almost gray and missing teeth. "Plannin' to catch that one, eh?" The man asked, his rough southern voice yet scratchy voice almost filling the room.

​​Billy stayed silent for a moment. Every question flew through his mind. What did you do? How on earth did you get into trouble? Taking a deep breath before asking. "Yeah. What exactly did she do though?" looking at the old man shake his head before speaking again, his eyes burning into his. "The real question is, what hasn't she done?" Billy's head followed the man as he sat down. Taking a sip of whiskey before speaking one more. "These fools believe someone like her killed a man."  

The words rang through his ears. Killed? "I saw it myself actually... She was defending a couple. A man was threatening, taking him down and fighting, which caused the knife to slip and land into the man's throat." Billy imagined the scenario of you going through it as the man explained deeper. "My guess the law was so desperate for a crime they took that chance... bribed everybody to lie to get her in trouble... even shot her in the leg as she tried to run." His head shot up, looking at the man in the eyes. Anger filling up through each bone of his body. "Why did they do that exactly?!"

The old man shook his head. "No clue.. I asked them, but they paid me to stay silent. Didn't take it though." Clearing his throat before pointing his hand at Billy. "She escaped though. A couple of outlaws escaped by the building. was blown up by the gang, and they kindly took her and helped her escape, but from what I've known was her last location, she was seen alone.. possibly going to a hideout." Billy quickly thanked the man before walking off to Jesse, eager to find you as quick as possible before the law did. "Jesse is leaving. I have business to attend to; it's urgent." Speaking harshly while gathering his stuff. "Woah woah, what's gotten' you into a twist?" Raising his hands up as Jesse looked at Billy. "Just a job... I'll be back." Storming out of the saloon before heading out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Mary gave you chores—nothing hard on your leg but simple chores to keep you busy and earn your stay until your leg fully heals. The hot sun beating onto your back as you placed a bucket of hay down for the animals, wiping the sweat off your forehead as you sighed and began to walk back into the building, limping as your leg stung in pain. Sitting down onto the wooden chair, you held tears from the pain before Mary walked in front of you, handing you whiskey. "Here should help with the pain... just don't drink it too fast or you won't have any left." Nodding your head before you took a sip, the drink cooling your dry throat before looking up at her. "You're too good to me, Mary," you let out a chuckle. "Well, I don't just leave helpless friends alone while in pain. You rest for now. I'll cook a little something. I do need to go down later on, just so you know." 

Nodding as you let Mary alone cook, knowing she enjoys that time alone to focus deeply. your head hitting the pillow as you think before falling asleep. 

Being shaken awake by Mary as she spoke your name, which deeply scared you. "Jesus Mary, what is the issue?" You placed your hands onto hers, which kept its place on your shoulders. "There is a man near here. I'm not sure who, but he seems to be coming this way." Those words worried you as you stood up limping to the door. Peaking out to get a glimpse, but the sun setting gives a challenge of guessing. "Go out there and confront him with your shotgun." Mary's eyes widened. "Are you insane?" Shaking her head as you hand her shotgun, opening the door before pushing her out. 

As you now watch peeking behind the now open door, watching Mary sigh before taking a few steps in front of the silhouette. "Stop right there... hands where I can see them, mister," hearing the tone of uncertainty filling her throat as she spoke. Watching as the man got off his horse before raising his hands. "I'm not here for trouble, miss." As the words came out of his mouth, you recognized that very voice... Billy... "And that exactly is...?" Mary's hand shook. "I'm looking for- '' His words cutting off as you rushed out before slamming into him, hugging him deeply. His scent of whiskey and cigarettes and gunpowder comforted you.

His arms quickly wrapped around your waist, tightly afraid you'd disappear from him. Moving to look at him to admire his face, which looked... sad and tired. "How on earth did you find me?" You asked. "I have my ways. I even found out the trouble you're in by the law." Staring into one another's eyes before Mary spoke up. "I enjoy a reunion, but we need to go inside; law likes to search at this time." Guiding both of you into before shutting and locking the door

With everyone now seated at the table, the only thing heard was the clock ticking. "So how did you... get here?" Billy asked, breaking the silence. He knew just wanting to know your view from it. Your gaze goes to him before you smile at him. His presence brings you joy and comfort. "A group helped me. I got a horse, and this place was the closest.. and I'm here until my leg fully heals." Just watching him, you could see how his heart broke for you. yearning to place your hand onto his.. to feel him and let him know you're alright.

With Mary not knowing what to do now with two people in her house that were wanted by the law, she grew tense at the thought that if the law found them here, she as well could be in big trouble. Before snapping back to reality, she looked at the both. "I just realized I have to head out and... get a few... things," she said quickly, raising up from her stool before heading to the door. "I can trust him here; I can actually get my things." That was the last thing Mary said before she left.

The crickets began to hum their tune as it got darker than ever, turning your head to Billy, then back to the door. Mary seemed hesitant and almost guilty as she left. "That was odd..." Billy broke the silence. Looking at him with soft eyes with a slight smile. "Nothing to worry about; Mary is just... normally a nervous person; I'm sure she is just anxious." Now both looking into one another's eyes, the tension is growing and yearning for one another. In a blink of an eye, Billy's hand cradles your cheeks as his lips softly land on yours. skin feeling warm as his hands slowly slide down to your waist gripping onto tightly.

A groan escaped his mouth as the kiss deepened, hands roaming around his body, desperate to feel him anywhere you were granted With the feeling of you being lifted onto the table, the feeling of his lips trace and teasing your neck, creating a sensation that tingled well. Biting your lip as he teased at your collarbone before looking at you in the eyes that spoke thousands of words that couldn't be described. "What is it?" You asked, your heart beating from the heated kiss. His hand caresses your cheek before speaking. "I want to make sure you're alright with this, especially because of your leg." His words filled with sincere, truly caring about you and your health.

The words that slipped from his mouth brought butterflies to your stomach—the feeling of love and kindness, and most importantly, trust. "Yes, of course I do.. just not here.. the guest room will do." Getting down from the table as you gently take his hand, leading him to the guest room, upon closing the door, his lips land onto yours once more. the feeling full of bliss as if you both were on earth for one another just to be in love, and that's what your purpose was for, just to be with him in every moment life granted you.

Slowly he laid you onto the bed, carefully untying the ribcages of the borrowed dress Mary gave you, revealing your bare skin to him and the cold air hitting your body, creating goosebumps. You watch him place soft kisses, starting from your collarbone, slowly down to the middle of your breast, and furthermore till he reaches the inside of your thigh. His eyes look up at you once more as his lips place a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh.

Shivers ran through your body at the sight of him and how he moved with grace and patience. His tongue slid through your folds slowly, a wash of pleasure washing over you, your body aching more of anything he has to offer. Hands slowly sliding down to grip softly onto his hair, which granted a groan from him. His tongue continued to move, moving to your clit bringing more stimulation and guiding you to an orgasm.Bucking your hips twoards him, building the pleasure as his tongue flicked at your clitoris with moans escaping your mouth. "Please do not stop," a feeling of euphoria washes over you as Billy's hand grips your thighs to keep you still. Watching him as he rests on his knees, bringing two fingers, slowly teasing your entrance before slowly sliding them in, spreading you out fully

with his fingers. One of your hands grips onto the bedsheets as another grips onto his other hand that held your waist down."

Billy, please," you begged, gasping for breath as your body tried to squirm around, but him holding you down did not allow such a thing. The feeling of his fingers curling up, hitting all the spots, bringing you ecstasy. "Just one more, I promise, then I'll give you what we both want. I promise." Taking his other hand in yours, placing a kiss onto the palm." Just as those words were spoken, a wave of bliss passed, your heart beating quickly, head flung back moans filling the room as you came, your body already hot but yearning for more.

Gently taking your legs before placing them around his waist, watching carefully as he removed his gunbelt.. then his pants.. showing his hard cock, precum dripping out as he moved your waist closer to him. eyes both locked in once again as he slowly slid in, filling you fully up to the brim, bottoming out as both of you groan in pleasure. Taking your hands to wrap around his neck, giving him a soft kiss, and reassuring him to move.

Slowly nodding and proceeding to thrust into you, the feeling of him filling you up greatly encouraged you more to your climax, letting out a sigh as he hits all the right spots once more and more deeply than his fingers. short moans leaving as each thrust he took was not slow nor fast.. just perfect to savor the feeling. "You feel so good wrapped around me.. god," moaned Billy, his hand moving to play with your breast, squeezing, feeling you tighten around him.

"Right there, don't stop fuck." You cry out as his thumb circles your clit to guide you to another orgasm. "C'mon.. together.. your doing amazing." Billy whispered into your neck as his eyes tightened. Within seconds, both of you came together, and both moans could be heard throughout the whole place. Warmness filled you up, bodies both still letting the pleasure pass by.

Within minutes, both of you lay together, bodies covered in sweaty thighs sticky from both of your releases. Taking in the moment of silence with one another. "When do you think Mary should come back?" Billy asked once again, breaking the silence and looking at you. "Nothing we should worry about. She likes her time." smiling as your eyes grew heavy, Billy being the last thing to see before Slumber claimed you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Has Mary returned yet?' You walked up to Billy as he kept watching through the window. "No, not yet. Has she done this before, meaning being gone for a day collecting?" Looking towards you hoping to find a response. "Unfortunately no," you say, wiping your hands on the cloth as you see a group of lawmen on horses come up, aiming guns before the sheriff spoke. Yelling your name. "We know your in there... no hope left. Just come out, and this will be easy for all of us." Billy ran to you, holding you tightly and giving both of you comfort. "How about we talk first, like normal people do?" Watching as he signaled the men to lower their guns. 

You slowly looked at Billy before slowly walking out of the farm house, Billy's hand staying tightly onto your waist, ready to defend you at any cause. "Ah.. you even have Billy the kid himself with you... Your little friend didn't tell me that. As you watched the sheriff chuckle, your heart dropped in horror, eyes widening as you looked over and saw Mary with an upset guilty face. "W.. what?" You stuttered in shock. "Your friend.. you see she didn't want to be the bad guy hiding you.. and so she led us here.. at least thank her for giving you a night in a comfortable bed." Each word rings through your ears as you hyperventilate.

Staring out at whatever was in front of you, everything was blurred. The voices of Billy yelling at everyone, his hand tightened more around you, securing you. "Be quiet Billy, be thankful we aren't taking you in.. though don't worry, we'll come back for you." His smile was corrupted and insane. Two men splitted you and Billy as more held him down, restraining him from getting you. Just as you passed Mary, you spoke. "You fucking traitor. You're no friend. You're a horrible person." You spat as tears filled both of your eyes. Upset and angry as she was crying when she's the one who gave you in.

The last thing Billy saw was you taken away on a horse before he was knocked out cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 months later

Once again, it was raining, but soft as Billy stood there looking down. What kept him so occupied was your headstone, hung by the law—all because of your 'friend.' Anger filled his body as he dropped a coin onto the dirt patch. walking away from where you laid to rest, awaiting for him to return to him and hug him in the afterlife. He had business to finish... to avenge you. blinded by rage as he slowly rode up to the farmhouse Mary resided in. Stopping as he quickly checked if his gun was loaded, before dismounting and walking up to the door and slowly opening it.

Upon walking in, Mary stood facing away from him, pausing as she heard a click of a gun. "Don't move," Billy said quietly. "Please don't.." She slowly said, turning to face him, both hands raised. "Why shouldn't I? You turned her in. Now she's in a cold grave with nobody to keep her warm and loved." His heart felt broken—the same way he felt as he watched his own family die in front of him as he grew. Hearing a chuckle, his breath shook as she watched her. "Fine, you want to know... I couldn't stand her... So I used my charms on the sheriff... on the town.. made everyone think she was a killer. I hated her. Despised her" Mary's voice yelled towards the end. His hand tightened on the gun more as his pointer finger moved to the trigger. "Slept with the sheriff even.. told him she'd probably run to me for safety.. when you came it was the right time to get him... Best thing I've do-" Her words were cut.

Her body laid still... Lifeless just as yours did. Cold and nothing. Blood pooled onto the wooden floors, soaking and staining the wood. turning around to head. out back into the rain, stopping just before he left. "Say hello to her for me." Before shutting the door. Never once forgetting your smile.. the rain slowly stopped. Looking over to the fence, he saw a white bird. Upon further investigation, he noticed it was a dove. looking straight at him before flying away.

a sign that you were now free from your pain of injustice and now could wander free as birds do.. praying he shall see you once more as hold you in his arms as he once did.

[nanamineedstherapy]

To Love & To Ruin

Chapter 6 - Where the Heart Can’t Follow (Ao3)

Teacher!Suguru Geto Vs Nanago

WARNING: Heavy Angst, discription of greusome acid attack, medical malpractice & self-image issues with panic attacks & halluciantions.

Previous Chapter 5 - Frayed at the Edges (Tumblr/Ao3)

Notes:

This chapter is dedicated to a remarkable woman I met at a café in my city where all the staff are acid attack survivors (you won't believe that it has just as many men working there too.) My friends & I kept confusing with what to order, but she remembered everything, Sherlock Holmes-style. All of us were blown away as she recalled everything in one go without us even having repeated anything. People tried to dull their shine, but despite everything, she’s thriving. Here’s to her & to all those who push forward with resilience. I know their lives are forever changed, but I admire the sheer, raw “fuck-you” of it. ❤️ Anyway, grab tissues & maybe a support animal.

A voice spoke casually, "I leave you alone for some time, & you blast half the floor to hell…”

Then a scream sliced through the haze. "Oh my God—Satoru, what happened?”

Consciousness flickered. Satoru felt himself drifting, his body raw, scorched, barely held together. Then came the familiar, steady warmth: Kento’s arms, lifting him like he was something fragile. He could almost smile, a shard of comfort easing the pain. Kento was here. Kento could handle anything, even the curse, the acid, that had shredded his body to the bone. Soon, his Reverse Curse Technique would kick in, his body would stitch itself together, & he’d be fine, good as new. Just needed a moment to breathe, leaning into Kento’s hold, savoring the solid, reassuring warmth.

Through blurred vision, he reached up, fingers brushing across Kento's face. “How’d you get here so fast?... But... nevermind. You’re here now. I’ll be fine.” A weak smile flickered across his lips as he brushed aside a damp lock of hair from Kento’s forehead, sweat starting to bead there like he’d run all the way.

Kento’s expression was tense, voice unsteady. “Why hasn’t your RCT kicked in yet, Satoru?” He held him a bit tighter, his gaze darting around like he was calculating every second.

Satoru managed a laugh that was barely more than a rasp, the raw scrape of it grating even in his own ears. “Exhaustion, that’s all,” he murmured. The pain roared back, but he pushed it down. “I’m not going anywhere. Not when you’re here.” At least not as long as his husband was here.

Kento’s jaw clenched, & with a shaky hand, he pulled his phone from his coat pocket, dialing quickly & waiting. “You haven’t been eating or sleeping. It’s why your body isn’t responding. We can’t wait. I’ll take you to a healer... or a doctor... though I don’t know who could treat someone like you here.” His hands trembled as the call connected.

Yaga’s voice broke through, sharp & direct. “Are any of you hurt? We were just informed there’s been an explosion. We’ve got teams mobilizing—”

“Satoru’s burned—acid. His skin’s…” Kento’s voice broke, & he swallowed, forcing himself back to the calm, cold steadiness Satoru knew so well. “It’s…still dissolving. His RCT isn’t responding. Please—he’s slipping.”

Satoru tried to laugh again but broke into a spasm of coughing, each one scraping his insides raw, like his own bones were turning against him. “Not that bad, old man,” he choked out, but it came out too weak, hollow. “He’s…being dramatic.”

Kento glanced down, the lines of his face, his grip tightening as though he could anchor Satoru to this world through sheer will. He fell silent, listening to Yaga’s response, but Satoru could barely catch the words. His head spun, & he closed his eyes, just for a moment, long enough to let the darkness stop swimming.

“We’re on our way. Please let them know to be ready.” Kento’s voice, grounding him, pulling him back again.

He felt himself lifted, the solid weight of Kento’s chest beneath him, his head pressing against the solid warmth of Kento’s chest, holding him carefully to not hurt his chemical burns. “After all this time, you’re finally carrying me like a damsel,” he managed, words faint. A blush crept up, warm against the ache. “Missed this…missed us.” He squinted through the fog, his husband cradling him, an anchor in this sea of agony.

“Hold on, Satoru.” Kento’s voice now carried an edge of desperation, each word sharp, urgent. “Stay awake.”

Cool air whipped against his face as they moved, stinging his skin, ripping at the burns. A tear fell from Kento’s cheek, splashing onto his. Satoru closed his eyes, smiling faintly. “Nice weather. The sunset was beautiful. Moon’s even prettier…”

Kento’s arms tightened further, fingers trembling. The pain faded for a moment, his mind clinging to the small comfort. Satoru pressed his forehead against Kento’s shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? I finished the mission today. We’ll get out of here, go somewhere…a beach.” He grinned weakly. “Sukuna owes me. I’ll make him cover…” He coughed again, then continued, “—we’re good friends now.”

Kento’s voice turned soft, almost self-soothing. “A vacation…you’ll rest & I’ll hold you close like you always wanted.”

The words cracked something deep inside him. Satoru’s weak smile wavered, his voice barely a whisper. “Look at you, going soft. All it took was an acid attack...” He coughed abruptly, the pain rising, raw & unforgiving, as memories—the hollowness, the tragedies of Jujutsu society—closed in like shadows.

“Stop talking, Satoru! Save your strength, okay?” Kento’s words rushed out, each one a command. “Rainbow Dragon’s going fast. Just hold on.”

The mention of Rainbow Dragon made him smile; he must have hijacked the poor beast for Satoru, a warmth blooming as he drifted. “I love you, Kento…”

But then another thought flickered across his consciousness. Satoru blinked, confusion spilling in.

Suguru.

Kento’s eyes shimmered with something raw and cracked. Panic laced his voice, but he swallowed it down, looking around with the urgency of a cornered animal. “We’re here, Satoru. Just hold on.”

Satoru mumbled, his voice fractured. “Kento? Check the next room for Suguru… He should be here.”

The pain ebbed, a numbness spreading, but something darker, hollow, opened up beneath it. The arms holding him felt solid, steady, but for a split second, they trembled, a grief he could almost touch pulsing from them. That hollow sadness—the cliff he’d tried so long to avoid.

It couldn’t be.

Kento was here, wasn’t he?

But as he stared up, the image shifted, words blurring. A sickening drop settled in his chest, like the horror of a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. He reached out with a trembling hand. “Suguru….?”

Silence stretched, Suguru’s breath hitching as he struggled to hold his composure. Then, with careful calm, he played along. “He’s fine. You’re the one who’s hurt. Let me worry about you.”

The illusion shattered like glass, his voice a whisper, a raw edge in his broken tone. “Suguru?” He felt the lie unravel, his mind slipping away, retreating into the only place it felt safe—anywhere but here.

And as his vision dimmed, he thought he heard Suguru’s quiet, shattering whisper. Just a fraction of a breath before everything went black.

.

The sterile corridors of the hospital clawed at Suguru’s senses, each breath tinged with the stinging stench of antiseptic & charred flesh. He’d never forget it, that smell—it was like nothing he’d encountered, worse than the curses he’d swallowed, worse than the memories he tried so hard to bury. It was Satoru's smell now, burned into his mind, his very soul, as relentless as the shame curdling within him.

Suguru stood, fists clenched, outside the burn unit, fighting against his own futile rage. They wouldn’t let him in—no matter how much he argued, no matter how he’d almost begged them to understand. "Please, just let me in," he'd told the nurse, his voice shaking with desperation that felt foreign on his tongue. But they kept him out, as if he were somehow a threat, as if his need to be there, his need to touch, to hold, to fix was something ugly.

Suguru could still see it all—the horrific map of burns tracing across Satoru’s skin, his neck and chest raw and flayed open, layers of flesh peeled back to reveal bone, muscle, the faint pulse of his heart. Satoru’s body, shattered and broken, every injury etched into Suguru's memory like a grotesque mural of his own failure. How could I have let this happen? His mind spiraled with guilt, haunted by the thought that he should’ve been there, standing at Satoru’s side, instead of being distracted with Nanako and Mimiko. Every time he closed his eyes, the vision returned—Satoru lying there, defenseless, in agony. The glint of bone, the blistered and charred flesh, the colors of death and pain painted across Satoru’s body like a twisted masterpiece.

Oh God, he could really see the outer layers of his heart & ribcage! 

His fingers dug into his palms, the pain a weak imitation of what he knew Satoru was feeling on that hospital bed. Been there for him; he should have been there. The words carved themselves into his thoughts, growing louder, harsher, a brutal, rhythmic chant: Been there, been there, been there.

He could almost hear Satoru’s voice, still so absurdly concerned, even in his pain, asking if he was okay, as if Suguru were worthy of that concern. The thought made his heart ache, his throat tighten.

How dare he? How dare Satoru care about him, worry for him when all Suguru had ever done was fail him?

After eight hours of being denied a glimpse of Satoru, Suguru felt something close to prayer rise up within him, a desperate plea from somewhere so deep he didn’t recognize the voice. Give him one chance. Just one. I’ll never let him suffer again. I’ll protect him, I’ll make him whole, I’ll take us away from this wretched life. The words fell silent, leaving Suguru's chest feeling hollow, his mind twisted with the heavy truth of what he would do if Satoru survived.

He’d abandon everything for him—every shred of pride, every buried resentment, every hope he’d ever held for a world they could save. He’d leave it all behind if it meant keeping Satoru safe, holding him close, never letting him drift beyond reach. 

They’d done enough. They’d saved the world a hundred times over, hadn’t they? Let someone else take up the burden, the battles. Let others wear themselves down to dust. Suguru would wear their disdain proudly; every curse cast his way, a mark of his love, his devotion. He would be the villain if that was what it took.

Suguru wanted nothing more than to take Satoru somewhere remote, hidden from violence, where he could keep him all to himself. It was selfish, maybe even twisted, but Suguru was beyond morality now—his survival depended on Satoru’s. A quiet life, just the two of them. He’d become a farmer, a shopkeeper—anything—if it meant keeping Satoru by his side. Satoru’s life was worth more than any title, any honor.

He felt a dark, almost sinister thrill rise at the thought of keeping Satoru safe, of protecting him with a fury that no curse could match. A part of him relished the image of holding Satoru so close, so protectively, that the world would have no choice but to let them be. Yes, the kids might hate him. They might curse him for taking away their idol, the man they looked up to with such naive reverence.

I’ll give it all up, he vowed silently. I’ll give everything—everyone, the world itself—if it means keeping you safe. Suguru could feel the darkness blooming inside, a possessive ache that felt all too natural, all too powerful.

Still, the scent of burning flesh lingered, taunting him, reminding him of every second he’d left Satoru alone. He could still feel the charred air in his lungs—his own helplessness, his own failure. But that would change. He’d burn down the whole world if it dared to touch Satoru again, if it dared to lay a hand on the one soul who had given him purpose.

.

Satoru’s screams tore through the burn unit, his voice strained and jagged as he jolted awake on the suspension bed, his body arching in raw panic. His blurred vision tried to piece together the sterile walls, fluorescent lights, and an array of masked faces looming above him. But all he saw was Toji—every attending nurse, every respiratory therapist, every burn specialist morphing into that smirking face. The sharp scent of antiseptics flooded his senses, the beeping of the monitors echoing around him, but nothing registered beyond Toji closing in from every angle.

He thrashed violently, flinching away from the hands reaching to stabilize him. No one would touch him—not after what Toji did. His infinity crackled to life, the air around him warping as an electric hum pulsed through every corner of the room. It surged uncontrollably, suffocating everyone within range—the doctors, the burn specialists, the critical care nurses. His infinity spiraled, tightening, pulling air from the lungs of every staff member, sending alarms ringing through the room as the pressure snapped at the equipment, threatening to tear it apart.

Outside, the burn unit staff reacted swiftly. The lead burn specialist, Toji in a dress & long hair, forced his way into the room. Struggling against the suffocating pressure. A voice cut through the noise. “Sir, we need you to calm down,” firm, calm voice trained for critical cases like his, trying to hide the sudden lack of oxygen in it’s lungs. With it’s eyes, it motioned for the respiratory team to stand by, preparing for potential intubation if his erratic breathing continued, & for the pain management nurse to administer a dose of anxiolytic medication through his IV, carefully calculated to stabilize him without compromising his delicate state.

Then suddenly, the door on the next wall burst open too, the hinges snapping under the pressure. Another figure—another Toji—stumbled in, eyes widening as the force of Satoru’s infinity stole his breath too. Satoru fixed his glare on the intruder, narrowing his focus to choke the life out of this last, imposter Toji.

“Satoru, please, you’re ok. It’s Suguru.” The figure choked out, his voice strained as if each word was clawing its way through his throat.

“Don’t lie to me,” Satoru snarled, his voice a feral growl. “I killed you once—I’ll kill you again!”

His infinity tightened further, the pressure intensifying. But then, something moved—a flash of color & movement breaking through the haze. Rainbow Dragon surged through, breaking the reinforced window along with the wall it was attached to, its iridescent scales shimmering under the harsh hospital lights. Good. He could pet the good boy after & go home on his back.

But the dragon's massive form blocked the latest Toji from view; its stance protective; it faced him, baring its teeth, hissing lowly. At Satoru. He never did that. Unless?

Rainbow Dragon had only ever snarled at Satoru like this once before—and that was when he’d come dangerously close to hurting Suguru. Satoru’s mind whirred, trying to process, but the exhaustion was eating him alive. Maybe... maybe he could trust this last Toji just enough to let him speak.

He released his infinity, just barely. “Prove it,” he demanded, voice trembling on the edge of collapse.

Latest Toji gasped, clutching at his throat as air filled his lungs again. “Satoru,” he panted, his voice breaking. “You’re safe. Fushiguro’s gone. We both survived him—he’s dead.” His words came haltingly, each one a desperate lifeline. “He gave me his curse after he died. And you—Megumi. We both carry something from him.”

Satoru’s head spun, his mind racing to make sense of Suguru’s words. Reality wavered, folding back into focus, & his heart thudded with painful clarity. Suguru’s face softened, the frantic haze of his nightmare breaking just enough for him to see the truth. Suguru. His best friend, his anchor.

The adrenaline left him in a rush, & his vision went dark as he passed out.

.

As the team stabilized him, they began implementing the next stage of his burn care plan. Now twelve hours into his treatment, the priority was wound debridement to prevent infection. Under the guidance of the same lead burn specialist, the burn care team performed escharotomies on his most affected areas to relieve pressure and restore blood flow to underlying tissues. A respiratory therapist monitored his oxygen levels closely, while a pain management specialist administered carefully balanced analgesics through his IV to manage his intense pain and prevent additional shock.

Meanwhile, intensive wound care was underway. Hydrotherapy sessions would be scheduled to cleanse the burns, and a rotation of specialized burn dressings and grafts would be prepared to protect exposed tissue and promote healing. Nursing staff would regularly monitor his fluid and electrolyte balance to counteract the severe fluid loss typical in burns of his degree.

They placed him in a specialized, climate-controlled isolation room to minimize infection risk. In the coming days, the team would monitor for signs of sepsis and organ stress, with regular checks from surgical, respiratory, and critical care teams. As his vitals stabilized, the team began cautiously planning for early skin grafting procedures, a necessary step to support his long recovery ahead.

.

Satoru survived. But barely.

When he came to, the doctors explained that his RCT had kicked in... slowly—likely when he’d mistaken Suguru for Toji in his haze of panic—all because he had passed out for 12 hours & had recovered from some of the exhaustion. It took 3 days for his skin to fully close up.

They called it a C-PTSD episode combined with other things Suguru didn’t know Satoru had & was too oblivious to understand, likely compounded by years of hidden scars Suguru hadn’t known Satoru carried. He’d always sensed Satoru was haunted by something heavy, but he’d assumed it was something they shared, something born of a life lived under the weight of their own strength. He hadn’t realized it was… more.

Suguru hadn’t even considered therapy, but the doctors pressed, asking if Satoru had ever been. They wanted Suguru to understand: this wasn’t something that would heal on its own. But Satoru, being Gojo Satoru, couldn’t just go to therapy. Vulnerability wasn’t allowed, not in a world where the Jujutsu Society balanced on his strength. He was expected to be invincible. Hell, even Gojo’s techniques isolated him.

So, a few days later, when Satoru woke without his first reaction being violence, they decided it was safe enough for Suguru to visit him alone. The staff kept their distance, even the sorcerer medical staff; their awe tinged with wary respect. Suguru watched as Satoru’s strength returned in fractions, his wounds mending in a way that defied explanation. By the fourth day, his injuries had healed to faint scars, barely visible unless you knew where to look—shadows of the agony that had almost taken him.

The doctors handed Suguru a massive carton of medications—antipsychotics, alpha-1 blockers, paroxetine, cannabidiol—each bottle a weight of responsibility pressed into his hands. They gave him a therapist’s number too, practically begging him to make sure Satoru attended every three days, warning him of Satoru being a high-risk patient.

But Suguru knew. The way they looked at Satoru, they had already deemed him high-risk. Their own kind. Treating him like some natural disaster & not a real person with feelings, hopes, & dreams, who fought tirelessly to keep the same idiots safe only to be treated like an object. Satoru giving it his everything was the reason they were here in the first place.

Suguru had been speaking to Yaga, who advised to keep it all under wraps. Satoru’s absence in Japan was already emboldening their enemies; if word spread that he’d nearly been broken, it would be an invitation for curses to take over. Yaga had gotten the higher-ups to grant them three months' leave.

Suguru agreed.

As Suguru held the therapist’s card in his hand, he knew the decision he’d make. If he could keep Satoru safe—if he could get him out of this life, away from this vicious cycle of death & strength, he’d do it. They could disappear, just him & Satoru, far beyond the reach of anyone who’d want to use them. The world could fall apart, humans would be the reason, & it would be a small price.

Sorcerers died thankless deaths. But not Satoru, not anymore. He promised to keep Satoru safe.

.

Suguru took charge.

They left Texas immediately after Satoru’s discharge; their mission was already complete on the day of Satoru’s ambush; they would have returned to Japan, but not anymore. With nothing left at the hotel worth bringing along, Suguru arranged a private charter to a secluded Gojo clan island near Musha Cay in the Bahamas—Satoru had mumbled about wanting to see a beach while half-delirious.

Satoru barely stirred on the flight, knocked out by doses that would’ve brought down an elephant, the so-called treatment keeping him in a dead sleep. Whenever he briefly woke, he’d fall back into unconsciousness almost instantly. Another cruel reminder, Suguru thought, of how Satoru was treated more like a tool than a human. Ofcourse, as long as the patient was asleep, he’d be “fine.”.

Once they arrived, Suguru placed Satoru in bed & took a full inventory of the island staff, forbidding anyone from mentioning Satoru or leaving without permission until he was stable. He requested for a sorcerer therapist, someone closer to the island, then went over Satoru’s dietary needs, adjusting each meal plan for the heavy medications he’d be on for the next three months, & supervised the day’s preparations, tasting every meal himself to ensure it was safe.

Carrying a dinner tray to Satoru’s room as the sun dipped, Suguru glanced out over the sea, making a quiet plan to bring Satoru out to the shore once he was up for it. A cool breeze, a bit of sun—Satoru would like that, he thought, recalling how he’d closed his eyes in pure contentment on the Rainbow Dragon. But the memory twisted; the smell of burning flesh rushed back to him, & his hand shook as he steadied the tray.

It wasn’t a coincidence. That weak curse shouldn’t have touched Satoru, & the thought of the woman who had hired an assassin to target Kento surged in his mind. Someone was playing games with them, & this time, he’d be ready.

At Satoru’s door, he knocked & stepped in, placing the tray on the edge of the California king bed. Satoru lay there, sprawled, feet hanging off one end, still sleeping soundly. Suguru gently ran a hand through his hair, not even waking him at first.

Then carefully lifting Satoru’s head to sit him up. Satoru’s eyelids fluttered weakly as he struggled to keep them open, his gaze fogged over as he tried to focus on Suguru’s face.

“Hey,” Suguru said quietly, his voice calm, as if they were in any other room on any other night. “I need you to take a few bites, alright?”

Satoru barely moved, his head tipping forward slightly, forcing Suguru to catch him by the shoulders. With a steady grip, Suguru held him upright, slipping an arm around Satoru’s back as he reached for the spoon with his free hand.

“Just a little,” Suguru coaxed, bringing the spoon to Satoru’s lips. After a hesitant second, Satoru opened his mouth, letting Suguru feed him in silence. He chewed slowly, almost as if the effort itself was draining him, his eyes already starting to drift closed again.

“Hey, stay with me,” Suguru murmured, squeezing his shoulder. “Just a few more bites, then you can go back to sleep.”

Satoru blinked, unfocused, his lips parting slightly. “Why… why’re you…” His voice was barely a whisper, the words slurring as he tried to make sense of everything around him. He couldn’t quite look at Suguru, his gaze wavering somewhere over his shoulder.

“Because you need it,” Suguru replied simply, bringing another spoonful up to his mouth. “So eat up.”

Satoru’s eyes drooped even as he took the next bite, leaning more heavily against Suguru’s arm. His breath was shaky, like every ounce of strength had been drained from him. Suguru could feel how tense he was, like his muscles had coiled into a permanent state of defense even while his body sagged in exhaustion.

After a few more bites, Satoru’s head drooped again, nearly slipping from Suguru’s grasp as he faded back toward sleep. Suguru steadied him, sighing softly. “Hold on,” he whispered, his voice softer, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

He shifted, gently lifting Satoru to lean fully against him as he reached for the medication. “Just these last ones, alright?” He tapped a few capsules out of many differently colored bottles, holding it to Satoru’s lips.

Satoru’s gaze flickered, a flash of confusion in his eyes. “Suguru… what…?”

“It’s just your meds.” Suguru’s voice was patient, grounding, as he helped Satoru take the pill, watching to make sure he was able to swallow these many bitter pills.

Satoru’s hand came up slowly, clumsy & hesitant, trying to brace himself against Suguru’s arm, but his fingers barely had the strength to stay there. His hand slipped, his head dropping forward onto Suguru’s shoulder as he muttered something incoherent, barely audible.

“Got you,” Suguru said quietly, gently supporting him.

Satoru’s breathing softened, his body growing heavier as he sagged fully into Suguru’s arms, too tired to fight the support, too dazed to question it. Suguru carefully shifted him back onto the pillows, tucking the blankets around him & brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. For a brief moment, Satoru’s hand gripped his sleeve, the touch faint but desperate.

Suguru’s hand came up, covering Satoru’s gently. “I’m here,” he murmured, voice low. "Rest. You’re safe."

And this time, Satoru didn’t fight the darkness pulling him under.

.

At night, Suguru heard it—the faint murmurs slipping from Satoru’s lips, muffled fragments of a name barely audible in the darkness. It wasn’t hard to guess what haunted him: Toji’s shadow hung over them both, an unyielding reminder etched into Suguru’s own sleepless nights. Suguru could endure the endless reel of his own memories, but not the sound of Satoru’s broken whispers, the quiet ache of someone who never let himself break. No one else would have noticed, but Suguru did.

With a sigh Suguru stood. He needed to anchor them both somehow. Walking over, he knocked softly & slipped into Satoru’s room, finding him tangled in his nightmare, his body rigid, infinity flaring erratically—a hollow, weakened pulse rather than his usual impenetrable barrier. Suguru approached slowly, staying out of the protective radius, his presence deliberate, a small, silent assurance.

He didn’t wake him. Instead, he lay down at the edge of the bed, reaching out a hesitant hand to brush Satoru’s hair, pausing just long enough to let infinity settle. When it finally eased, Suguru threaded his fingers through Satoru’s hair, slow & gentle. Satoru shifted but didn’t wake; he just settled further into the mattress, facing him.

.

They fell into this unspoken routine for fifteen plus days; Suguru’s patience stretched thinner each night. Satoru was trapped somewhere distant, half-alive, medicated into a docile stupor, & Suguru knew this couldn’t last. He couldn’t hide them both away while Satoru floated through sedated days like a ghost.

One afternoon, Suguru dragged him, barely conscious, to the beach. The staff had already set up a picnic area—a soft blanket, Luxox sun loungers, & every comfort Suguru could think of in case Satoru needed it. Satoru never fully woke, his eyes half-lidded as Suguru fed him lunch, whispered reassurances, gave him his medications. Once Satoru was wrapped up in a light blanket, Suguru settled next to him, trying to read, to forget. But the memories clung to him like smoke—Satoru’s flesh, burning; the smell seared into his mind.

He couldn’t speak to anyone else about it. Satoru’s nightmares prevented it, his unconscious mumblings forbidding Suguru from telling anyone—especially Kento. Not that Suguru would’ve told him. He & Yaga agreed: silence was the safest way forward. Speaking of Yaga, he stopped talking to him too. He’d discarded his phone & gotten a new one the moment they left Texas, convinced that Satoru was all he needed. And soon, he was certain, Suguru would be all Satoru needed too.

But the words haunted him, an endless chant carved into his mind: Been there. Been there. Been there. Been there. Should have been there. He wanted to scream, to cry, to feel something other than the hollow ache lodged in his chest, but his tears had dried a long time ago.

He brought Satoru to his therapy sessions like clockwork, summoning therapists to the island under strict confidentiality. Each session was the same; Satoru was too groggy to focus on more than a few words before passing out. On days Suguru dared to slip him just enough coffee to stay awake through the session—which wasn’t recommended but he was out of options now—Satoru dodged every question, steering the conversation to Digimon in his still sleepy haze, ignoring the therapist’s gentle persistence. Three therapists quit within three weeks.

Once, driven by desperation, curiosity, & a lot of boredom, Suguru took Satoru’s daily dose himself—a staggering fifteen pills. For three days, he slept or stumbled through a drugged haze just from one dose, while Satoru took similar meds thrice a day, understanding in his bones the weight that Satoru carried & the cruel, relentless sedation that kept him docile & broken.

Then Satoru, mumbling something about Megumi in his sleep, broke his thoughts. Suguru leaned closer, listening as Satoru’s fingers twitched, his words slurring out sleepily.

“It was perfect timing to sell a kid off.”

Silence.

Then suddenly, hand waving as if he were conducting a symphony of cat orchestera, “So, Megumi-Kun, you were the ultimate card that your dad kept on hand against the Zen’in Clan.”

Suguru raised his eyebrows, biting back a laugh as Satoru’s fingers twitched mid-air, like some sleep-deprived scientist just dying to get shocked by his own experiment.

“So leave the rest to me then.” The sleepy smile softened.

Suguru couldn’t look away; he had been wanting to ask him about that day’s conversation but never got the chance because of his own idiocy. He hadn’t seen Satoru smile like this since that night on the Rainbow Dragon & hadn’t heard anything but muttered nightmares or Digimon references since then. For a moment, Suguru considered reaching for his new phone, but it was dead. So he picked up Satoru’s instead, carefully unlocking it with Satoru’s finger, & took a video.

Luckily Satoru was still asleep, now mumbling about Megumi not letting him drop off his sea urchin at prom. Wailing dramatically.

Once Satoru calmed down to no talking in his sleep & Suguru had taken enough pictures & a video of his stupid face, he opened the gallery app to look at said pictures & send them to himself.

While he was scrolling, he unintentionally came across a folder named “Squidward”...?

Suguru immediately rolled his eyes. Of course, it was in Gojo’s phone. He knew he shouldn’t look—he really did—but the urge to click was like a siren song to a shipwrecked sailor. With a sigh, he tapped it. Inside was another folder: “Top 10 Squidward Sightings That Will Shock You!”

Suguru snorted. Yeah, no way this was real. But he couldn’t resist. Another click.

“Squidward Spotted in the Wild! (Not Clickbait).” Suguru groaned, half-laughing at the absurdity. This was getting ridiculous—& predictable.

One more click. “Unmasking Business Squidward: Dark Academia Exorcist Edition!”

His grin was already wide, but as he clicked it, his heart sank. Photo after photo of Kento stared back at him—some candid, some intimate. Suguru kept scrolling, every image a slow, sinking realization. Kento, asleep in bed, his bare chest rising & falling; Kento, leaning over Satoru, pressing a kiss to his temple; Kento’s hand resting in Satoru’s hair as he read, his expression soft.

Suguru’s chest tightened, but he kept scrolling, unable to look away. He thought he’d understood, thought he knew their closeness. But the next image was a box of rings, two nestled together.

And the next—a video. Satoru’s hand resting on Kento’s shoulder as he grinned at the camera, Kento’s hand cupping Satoru’s face, kissing his temple, both wearing the same rings at the local courthouse.

The dots finally connected, slotting into place with ruthless clarity. Satoru was too close to Kento. Too damn close. Close enough to be married to him. Suguru’s mind reeled, sifting through countless moments, each a piece of the puzzle he’d missed. Satoru never left his house to see Kento—not when Suguru’s girls had been watching. And Kento never came to him. No, Satoru was teleporting, slipping out of Suguru’s reach with a flicker, crossing space effortlessly to keep up his secret. He’d known all along, & Suguru had been the one left in the dark.

The more Suguru dwelled on it, the faster the realization snowballed. Kento’s penthouse, the opulence far beyond what a sorcerer’s salary could cover, even with Kento’s wealth. The way Satoru had been slipping away after missions, any excuse to disappear for a while.

Texas—that silent, impenetrable distance he’d felt growing between them, a creeping cold that settled deep in his bones, an ache that nothing could ease. He’d spent those days chasing down every spark, every fragment of warmth he could find in Satoru’s presence, desperate to bridge that widening gap. Every night, he lay awake wondering if tomorrow would be the day things felt like they used to, when they were unstoppable, untouchable, side by side. He thought it could come back with enough time, with enough patience, that maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, Satoru would meet him halfway.

But Suguru had always been the only one holding on. He was the only one still looking back.

He’d planned everything so carefully, thinking if he could get every detail right, maybe Satoru would look at him the way he used to. He searched out every bakery, every small café, each corner of Texas that might coax out a laugh, a glimmer of happiness. But every sip of syrupy coffee, every too-sweet pastry, only reminded him how far he was from the warmth he’d once taken for granted. He could see it now, clearer than he wanted to—the truth that had been staring him down in every quiet moment between them.

It had all been for nothing.

He hadn’t just lost Satoru—he’d let him slip away. No, he’d pushed him away.

Suguru’s mind replayed it—the spiral of choices that had led him here, & he could feel every mistake settle heavy in his chest, like stones dragging him under. He’d left Satoru to fight battles he didn’t understand, drawn so deep into his own insecurities & beliefs that he’d let their bond fracture. And now, when he’d finally wanted to be there, to be enough, he was too late.

Satoru would never leave with him. Once he was well, he’d go back to Kento, to the life he’d chosen. Suguru could feel it—every laugh he’d missed, every moment he’d ignored. How had he been so blind?

The realization hit like a knife twisting deep, the bitter truth hollowing him out, merciless & final. He’d had everything—Satoru’s faith, his trust, the kind of bond that people spent lifetimes hoping to find. And he’d thrown it all away.

Suguru could see it all too clearly now; every moment he’d let pride, stubbornness, & bitterness twist his choices. He’d clung to his ideals, his own vision, letting it eat away at everything that mattered. He thought he was doing what was right; he thought his path was the one they’d both wanted. But when Satoru had tried to hold on, he’d turned away, driven by his own anger & the conviction that he was right. He’d pushed Satoru to this, to finding comfort in someone else, to leaving behind the only life they could’ve had together.

A bitter laugh escaped him, hollow & strained. This was what he deserved, wasn’t it? He’d spent years running from the regret, hiding behind his purpose, convincing himself he was better off alone. He’d told himself he didn’t need anyone, not even Satoru. But here he was, his chest hollowed out, burning with the truth: Satoru had been everything. And now he was left with nothing.

He’d always been the one to turn away, the one to close off, to cut people down. He’d carved out his own isolation, thinking he was stronger for it. And now he’d brought it to life—this empty, endless loneliness that gnawed at him. Satoru had moved on, found something Suguru never could give him. He’d slipped through Suguru’s fingers like sand, & there was no going back.

The thought shattered something deep within him, & for a moment, he let the grief swell, raw & unfiltered. He could’ve had everything. The life he’d wanted—where Satoru was beside him, where they were unstoppable, where none of the pain, none of the loss, could touch them. But that life had never been real. Suguru had given it up long ago, & now he was paying the price.

As the despair clawed through him, Suguru could feel a new kind of resolve settle in his bones, cold & sharp. Satoru was all he had left, even if he couldn’t have him the way he wanted. He couldn’t bear to lose him again, to watch him drift away & be left with only his own hollow regrets. He would hold on this time, no matter what it took, even if it meant stepping into darkness itself.

He wanted to die, to escape this relentless pain, but he also wanted to kill, to tear apart whatever had taken Satoru from him, himself maybe. Closing his eyes, he drew a slow, shaking breath, forcing himself back from the edge. He remembered the grounding exercises, the breathing techniques Satoru’s therapists had tried—Satoru had fallen asleep immediately, but it worked for Suguru now. He needed to hold it together. For Satoru, he’d been through enough.

Because he knew he would burn for Satoru, would tear the world down if it meant keeping him safe—even if Satoru would never feel the same.

Suguru closed the apps, turned off Satoru’s phone, & threw it into the ocean.

.

.

Then, a few moments later, went back to fish it out.

_

Satoru felt steady hands cup his face, rough palms pressing just firmly enough to ground him, & the scent of cedar & bergamot filled his senses. He recognized it immediately—Kento’s cologne, his reassuring, familiar scent. It rooted him, soothed him in a way nothing else could. Satoru’s chest finally loosened, his breathing slowing as he relaxed under that touch. This was Kento.

"Kento…,” he murmured, the name slipping out like a half-formed prayer. He forced his eyes open slowly, afraid that if he moved too fast, the fragile warmth might disappear. But there he was—Kento’s face hovering above him, calm & focused, his brow drawn tight with concern. Those steady eyes held that familiar mix of worry & restraint, tempered with a softness only Kento ever allowed himself to show. Satoru’s breath hitched, his heart catching in his throat.

“Didn’t think you’d come all this way…” he whispered, the exhaustion raw in his voice, each word heavy, desperate. He melted a little at the sight of his husband, that firm, unshakable presence. Kento’s gaze softened, a slight crease in his brow, his thumb brushing a slow, measured arc over Satoru’s cheek.

“You’re hurt,” Kento said quietly, each word carrying that quiet urgency only he could convey. “You could barely breathe, Satoru. You think I wouldn’t be here?” His voice, calm but strained, was steady enough to cling to—a lifeline of certainty. “Let me handle it. You just focus on resting, alright?”

Satoru’s chest tightened, the warmth of those words wrapping around him, settling over his heart like a blanket he didn’t realize he’d needed. He felt his eyes prick with a mix of relief & raw gratitude as he reached up, fingers brushing over the familiar angles of Kento’s jaw, letting his hand drift as though he were memorizing the contours. He took in every small line, every shadow, tracing the shape of his husband’s face as if he could hold onto this moment forever.

“Stay a while, yeah?” he whispered, barely managing the words as a fragile, almost childlike plea trembled on his lips. “I don’t… I don’t want you to go.” His voice cracked, vulnerability creeping into his words as he let the exhaustion, the need, slip through.

Kento’s hand shifted, cradling the back of his head with careful strength, his fingers threading through Satoru’s hair as he gently pulled him close. “I’m not going anywhere, Satoru.” His voice was quiet, grounding, tinged with a tenderness Satoru could feel in his bones. He let Satoru rest his forehead against his chest, let him breathe in the steady beat of his heart. “Just let go, just this once. I’ll keep watch.”

Satoru’s eyes closed, his weight relaxing against Kento, surrendering to that steady, comforting presence. For the first time in weeks, the ache faded, the anxious pull in his chest subsiding into peace. He knew, somehow, that with Kento here, he could let himself go. Kento would hold it together for both of them.

But then, a voice pierced through the comfort, familiar but wrong. “Satoru—hey, come back to me.”

Satoru’s eyes shot open, & the warmth, the steady weight of Kento’s hand, was gone. The scent of cedar & bergamot had vanished like smoke. His heart plummeted as he blinked, realizing he was looking up into Suguru’s face, Suguru’s eyes filled with worry, his hand gripping Satoru’s shoulder in a gentle but alien way. The dream fractured, leaving him cold, shaken, & painfully awake.

“Satoru?” Suguru’s voice was soft, careful, but Satoru flinched as though he’d been struck. The room felt too small, dark, suffocating as his mind clawed at the fading remnants of the dream. Kento—Kento wasn’t here. He hadn’t been here at all.

“You’re alright,” Suguru murmured, his hand holding steady as his gaze searched Satoru’s face. “It was just a dream.”

Satoru’s throat tightened, shame & grief welling up, his gaze darting away, unwilling to let Suguru see the raw ache tearing him apart. A hollow emptiness settled in his chest, each breath sharper, colder than the last.

That day, after many days, Satoru decided to stop taking the meds; he'd have enough sleep for a lifetime. He even gathered some strength to shower, or maybe he forced himself just so he could stop dreaming.

.

Kento would always be with you, stand by you, die for you, forgive anything... Well, except one thing.

 And Suguru knew what.

Suguru had always been artistically aligned but just never had the time to practice on oil or acrylics like he wanted to. Fighting curses & teaching took all his time. But there was one thing he could easily be skilled at. He had learnt it for Nanako & Mimiko’s school projects a while ago. He might have been a little rusty now, but Suguru wasn’t anything if not a perfectionist; he’d pick it back up in a few hours.

He powered up a disposable new laptop he’d asked the staff to get him. Downloaded the latest version. He hated it, hated himself for it. But he needed Kento out of the picture if there was any chance of saving Satoru. The person he was destined to be with throughout the multiversers, across different timelines. Kento wasn’t strong enough to save him anyway.

He positioned him on his shoulder & took some photos of just Satoru, removing anything that could give away their location. Photoshopped them to look realistic & uploaded them to Satoru’s Instagram. #MyOne&Only. Then deleted it after 15 minutes; that would be enough to get Gojo’s students gossiping.

Now all he had to do was wait. Then Satoru had started mumbling about Kento in his dreams. Again.

Suguru tried to play along for Satoru’s comfort, but he gave up fast.

.

In the moments Satoru’s meds weren’t putting him down for the count, when he was just a hint of lucid, he’d tried to call Kento but kept falling asleep before the 4th ring. Kento was probably mad at him for ignoring him for so many days, especially with Suguru around. But what could he do, he was the one to tell Suguru to not tell Kento. He’d worry.

Satoru stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the cold air hitting his skin as the silence of the room stretched on. His reflection was all he could focus on, but it was hard to truly see. He had always been able to trust his appearance—a face that had never failed to be a part of his confidence. Now, everything felt warped—like his very identity had been etched out of his skin & scattered.

He reached a trembling hand up to the mirror, his fingers brushing the fogged-up surface as if expecting the real him to be on the other side. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to block out the reality that awaited when he opened them again. The image in the mirror wasn’t who he recognized. It wasn’t who he was.

The scars, barely visible, had healed better than expected, but they were still there. Above his collar, faint lines, like traces of something buried deep within, marked his skin. His chest, once so smooth, was now an atlas of memories. Some scars were hidden beneath clothing, but not all of them. It was the feeling—the subtle ache of the past—that made it impossible to forget. His heart felt heavy, a knot in his stomach that wouldn’t untangle.

He could see himself, yet he couldn’t see himself. The man in the mirror was too foreign.

The hallucinations came slowly, like whispers at the edge of his vision. He saw Kento’s reflection beside him, just as it had always been. “It’s alright, Satoru. You’re still pulchritudinous,” Kento’s voice said, so soft & comforting, like the first day they met.

But the voice was a lie. It was a hallucination—a ghost born from desperation. Kento hadn’t seen him yet. He hadn't been allowed to. The thought of Kento's reaction paralyzed him. The fear of rejection clawed at him relentlessly, twisting in his chest. Kento—Kento, who had always loved him for his strength, his invulnerability—what would Kento say if he saw the cracks in the armor? What if his husband couldn’t look at him the same way anymore?

Would Kento reject him?

The imagined Kento beside him only smiled gently, but that smile was so far away. He could feel his breathing becoming uneven, panicked. This wasn’t real. But the ache, the terror in his gut, it was.

The wounds had been healed physically, yes. But nothing, nothing would erase the deep fear—the terror that came with knowing he had almost died again. Almost killed by something so small, so insignificant. It wasn’t Toji. It wasn’t an adversary with skill or strength. It was a curse, a fourth-grade curse, & for that to be what nearly ended him... it was a brutal reminder of his vulnerability.

"Stop it," he whispered, voice shaking. "You’re still you. You’re still..." But the words died before he could finish them, strangled by doubt. His reflection didn’t speak to him. Kento’s soothing voice in his head only made the emptiness worse. He reached for the bathroom counter, grasping it for support, but it wasn’t enough.

He stared at the way his hands trembled; the way his reflection seemed like a mask of something he couldn’t recognize anymore. His body had betrayed him again—he had betrayed himself. The ghosts of every near-death experience, every attack he couldn’t avoid, they crowded in around him.

You’ve never been this weak, he thought. You’ve never had so much to lose.

And then, like clockwork, Kento’s image shifted. Instead of being beside him, he stood across the room. He was there, but not there, a blur that couldn’t truly reach him. Satoru closed his eyes, but the hallucination continued, the voice now a broken plea.

“You’re perfect. Image of Adonis. You don’t have to be invincible for me, Satoru. You don’t...”

The words broke something inside him. He felt his chest tighten, his breath hitch, but it wasn’t enough to soothe him. He didn’t know how to live with this version of himself. How could Kento, how could anyone, look at him the same again after all of this? He wasn’t the same. He couldn’t be.

The sound of the bathroom door creaked, & for a moment, his heart skipped a beat. He thought it was Kento—real Kento. But it was only the emptiness, the reminder that no one had walked in.

He slumped against the bathroom wall, hands pressing to his face as he tried to push back the fear, the overwhelming dread, that Kento would never look at him the same again. And in that moment, he felt completely alone.

Suguru had been there, but things had changed. The closeness, the comfort that used to fill the space between them, had withered. The bond they once had couldn’t sustain him now. He wanted Kento. He’d soothe him, know what to do, what to say, tell him he was still the same. Still his annoying partner.

But Kento… if Kento could just see him as he was, would he be able to accept him, scars & all? Or was he already lost?

Satoru pressed his palm against his chest, breathing shallowly, trying to calm the storm inside. But the waves wouldn’t stop. The tears—he couldn’t stop them either.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, trying to erase the reflection in the mirror, trying to ignore the pain he was too afraid to face. He had almost died. He had almost been taken by something so insignificant, something that reminded him that no one, not even him, was safe.

Kento hadn’t seen him yet.

And Satoru couldn’t look at himself.

.

That night, Satoru lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts spiraling in a hollow numbness. Shadows wove into twisted shapes across the room, crawling closer, lingering. He barely noticed Suguru slipping quietly out of bed, leaving him alone with the gnawing ache deep in his chest. That was fine—he didn’t want anyone around. Anyone but Kento.

The phone in his hand felt heavy as he dialed Kento’s number, his thumb hovering over the screen, pressing the call button almost reflexively. He didn’t expect a response. But tonight, desperation overruled him; he’d keep calling until something broke this silence. Until he felt something, anything, less empty.

How long could Kento ignore him? He’d keep calling him; the state he was in was allowed for spamming his husband. In fact, it was expected. Kento hadn’t looked good on their last call either; he must have been worried sick or worse, mad at him for not talking to him for days.

.

On the far side of the island, a lone boat docked in silence, its occupants treading quietly onto the wooden pier. Suguru arrived with a small group of sorcerers, each alert as they spotted a figure waiting at the edge of the dock. She stood with her back to him, her stance relaxed yet deliberate, a few men flanking her.

“Quite a bold choice to show yourself here.” Suguru’s voice was low, restrained, & he motioned for his companions to stay back. This was his confrontation to handle, & he intended to enjoy it.

The woman turned slowly, her short, jet-black hair framing a face marked with faint scars. There was something unsettlingly familiar yet distorted in her features, as if she’d borrowed them from another. Suguru’s jaw tightened as he recognized the face, his blood chilling.

“Kaori…?”

He’d last seen her with her husband Jin, the picture of a perfect family when they’d enrolled Yuji in Jujutsu High. Yet here she was, her expression now twisted with something dark & knowing.

She smiled, a practiced, icy smile that held nothing warm. “Geto Suguru. It’s been too long.”

Suguru’s expression hardened, his fists clenched at his sides. “What is this...?" Who are you?”

“Oh, so many questions.” She tilted her head with a mocking lilt, as if amused by his rage. “I am the one who has cleaned up the little inconveniences in your path. And now, I’ve come to see that you honor our arrangement.”

Suguru scoffed, his smile dangerous. “If you think you’ll get anywhere near Satoru—”

Her grin sharpened. “So quick to anger, so quick to assume. Have you no curiosity for the gifts I’ve bestowed upon you?”

Suguru held his silence, his eyes steely, waiting for her to continue.

“First, consider my apologies for the discomfort I caused Gojo Satoru. But I trust the damage is minimal, no? A few scars here & there, scars that barely mar that porcelain skin you’re so attached to…” Her voice dripped with mocking nostalgia. “A reminder of a younger time, let’s say. A fresh… vulnerability.”

Suguru’s control wavered as she continued, her tone amused & detached.

“And then, of course, there was Texas. I arranged a brief respite, a little time for you both to... reconnect.”

Suguru’s fists tightened, his jaw clenching visibly. “You’ve gone too far. He could’ve been killed. I’ll—”

She raised a hand with a faint, dismissive laugh. "Please spare me the bravado. Did you think I’d let things go that far? This was all necessary to… cultivate trust. To bring you both closer, a little reawakening, if you will.”

Suguru’s eyes narrowed. “I already killed your little puppet. You’ll follow suit.”

She regarded him with a pitying look. “So reactionary. That was merely an appetizer, a gesture toward what I’m capable of. And if I’d truly wished to kill your dear Satoru, would I have been so careless?” Her smile grew faintly cruel, a glimmer of sadistic amusement. “The poison was an invitation for you... & a nuisance for him.”

Suguru’s voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “What did you want with Nanami?”

“Oh, finally, an interesting question.” She sighed, as if disappointed by his lack of curiosity. “Nanami Kento is the sort who leaves no room for... persuasion. Stubbornly tethered to his... humanity, uncompromising, & yet fragile. You, on the other hand... well, I suspect your loyalties are not so immovable.”

Suguru’s eyes darkened. “And you think I’d help you?”

“Ah, but you already have.” Her eyes gleamed with a knowing smile, like someone holding the final card in an unseen game. “Who do you think kept you alive that night? Or rid your world of the troublesome Nanami Kento? Consider it a gift, Suguru—a small price to pay for the path you’ve already chosen.”

Suguru’s face twisted, anger & shock warring within him. “What… what did you do?”

“Poor Nanami Kento..." She laughed softly, a chilling sound that lingered in the air. “Dead & swallowed by the sea. We verified it, of course—five times over, to be precise. I would have come sooner, but I wanted to see the dawning realization settle over you.”

Suguru’s expression faltered, horror bleeding through his calm facade.

She watched him, satisfaction gleaming in her gaze. “Now, all I ask is that you continue down the path you’ve already chosen. Take your precious Satoru away from this wretched place. Hide him, protect him. Keep him close, Suguru. You may even return once the new age begins, & we might welcome you both with open arms.”

Suguru’s thoughts churned as he struggled to grasp the depth of her machinations. “And Sukuna?” he managed, voice tight with restrained fury.

Her lips curled into a sinister smile as she raised a crimson cube in her hand, eyes glinting with something ancient & deadly. “We have ways of handling him. Methods far beyond what your kind can fathom.”

Suguru felt his grip on reality slipping, his mind reeling from the barrage of revelations. Each piece seemed to chip away at his carefully crafted resolve, his thoughts spiraling into darker places.

She leaned in, her voice soft & poisonous. “Consider your debt to us paid. Now go to your Satoru. Hold him close. Savor these final moments together while we set the stage for the new dawn. And leave the rest to me.”

With a casual, dismissive wave, she turned, her silhouette melting into the darkness as her disciples followed silently. The shadows swallowed them whole, leaving Suguru standing on the dock, shattered by silence too thick to pierce.

.

On maybe the fifty-first ring, Kento’s phone finally connected. Satoru’s heart lurched with relief. “Hello, Kento,” he murmured, trying to gauge his husband’s tone. Would Kento be worried, or had he crossed the line into anger? He leaned toward the latter.

“Gojo-sensei?” The voice was unmistakably Yuji’s. Satoru blinked, forcing a smile. If Kento was mad enough to let Yuji pick up, then he really must be furious. Yuji had likely trapped him for another meal with Megumi & Nobara, or maybe... maybe Kento didn’t want to talk to him.

“Hey, Yuji,” Satoru said, injecting a lazy drawl into his voice. “How are you?”

“Don’t worry about me, Gojo-sensei. Where have you been? We’ve all been trying to reach you for months.” Yuji’s tone was uncharacteristically frantic, & in the background, he heard shuffling & low voices.

“Just relaxing on a beach,” Satoru replied nonchalantly, shrugging off Yuji’s urgency with a familiar cocky smirk. But more voices filtered through the receiver—harsh, hurried. Then came Megumi’s voice, taut with fury, before he snatched the phone.

"Are you insane?” Megumi’s voice broke through, sharp as glass. “Where the hell have you been? Japan’s been burning without you. Do you even care?”

Satoru’s heart twisted. So they were all mad at him. Of course, he thought bitterly.

Before he could respond, there was another shuffle, a new voice. "Let me talk to him. Stay here. I need to talk to him alone.”

“Satoru… where have you been?” The voice was so familiar it clawed at Satoru’s heart, but its tone—something was off. “I heard you were injured.”

Cold fear slid down his spine. “Why the hell are you with Kento’s phone, Sukuna?”

The line went silent, as if Sukuna himself was taken aback. Then, unexpectedly, Sukuna’s tone shifted, something serious, almost hesitant, entering his voice. “About that… I came back to Japan last week. No one in school knew where Nanami was. So, yeah, I asked around. Turns out he took a mission.”

“A mission?” Satoru’s voice grew taut. “Without his phone? Just tell me if he doesn’t want to talk to me—”

“Listen to me,” Sukuna cut in, voice tense. “Just… listen.”

Satoru froze, unease pooling in his stomach. Sukuna didn’t ask, didn’t plead, but here he was, practically begging for a chance to explain. Satoru waited, bile rising in his throat.

“No one knew exactly which mission he took,” Sukuna continued, voice halting. “But then I had to go back on a mission for a few days, so I put Toji on it. Remember that ghost ship mission they told us about in school? The one everyone avoided because the vessel kept vanishing? And later was sent to the back burner for no further assignments.” Haibara used to eye them like they were serial killers whenever they’d bet on which mission assignee would actually return—Shoko winning the most, of course. Not that he’d accept, but Sukuna would teach him like a little brother because he reminded him of Jin & Yuji, though he dropped the topic altogether after Haibara’s death. Sukuna hadn’t been in Japan when it happened, but even if he had, he couldn’t have saved him—he hadn’t yet mastered his revival technique. Then perfected it a few days later out of spite.

“Yeah, so?” Satoru bit out, impatient.

There was a sharp pause, like Sukuna was gathering himself. “Nanami was assigned that mission. We still don’t know by whom exactly, despite it being reserved for special grades.”

Satoru’s pulse roared in his ears, every instinct screaming at him to hang up. "So... he’s okay? Is he hurt? Put him on; I want to hear—” Right now he just wanted to listen to Kento’s voice; he’d deal with the higher-ups later.

"Satoru,” Sukuna’s voice hardened, something raw threading through it. “The ship... he sank the damn ship.”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Satoru snapped, voice cracking. “If he’s mad, fine. I deserve it, but he can’t send you as a messenger. If he wants me to hear his stupid hero story—”

“Nanami’s dead.”

A/N:

The word count in this chapter could probably break a world record for “Most Dramatic Crying Scene” ever. The only thing that kept me going was watching my SatoSugu cats reenact a cursed rom-com in the background. Yes, I’m officially that person now. 🤡 So here’s what went down: 30 hours of zero sleep, zero chill, and my own personal Mr. & Mrs. Smith. My long-haired black Persian—fully feral and 100% convinced he’s Geto reborn—keeps egging on his white “wife,” who is basically female Gojo reincarnated and the self-proclaimed strongest Persian princess. She’s busy smacking around their son for reasons, and he retaliates by peeing in her food bowl like the absolute menace he is. 凸(¬‿¬)凸 Then, when she finds her food bowl tainted, her two horrified white-furred kids (one boy and one girl; yes, they all live together because I don't trust people with my kids, what about it) watch in horror as Mom prowls, ready to whoop them all because her daughter (probably Nobara in cat form) egged on her clueless brother (total Yuji vibes), who thinks this was all just a fun prank. 🐈💀 Send comments (and mental health tips) because this writer is absolutely on the edge. And if you don’t know what to say, just drop a line you liked—it’s my lifeline at this point. ಥ_ಥ Apologies for the long ass note. Let's huddle in a crying circle.

Next Chapter 7 - Leaving Echoes (Tumblr/Ao3)

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[skyyguy]

[help] for clegan equine therapy au 😼😼😼 only if you wanna angst bruhther

[ HELP ]: sender picks up and carries the badly wounded receiver as fast as possible to the nearest hospital or the nearest place to administer urgent first-aid.

I'm always a slut for angst my friend. Always.

“John, stop, I’m fine,” Gale tried, for the third time, digging his fingers into John’s shoulders where his hands rested, arms wrapped around the other’s neck. John, of course, for the third time, very much did not stop, practically running his way to the house– as smoothly as he could, which was to say, not very smooth at all. Gale was bouncing in his arms and it was only making him feel sick. Or, sicker than he already felt. 

“You must have a different definition for fine than I do,” John snapped, concern setting him on edge. Gale huffed and shoved his forehead against the side of John’s neck, trying to clamp down on the rolling nausea in his stomach. 

“It was barely even a seizure, John,” he whined from his place and John made an unhappy noise. 

“Barely even still counts as a seizure, Gale,” John’s tone exasperated, unimpressed, “and you’re bleeding. That’s not nothing,” John continued, slowing as he reached the house, shoving the door open with his hip and taking Gale to the guest-room-turned-infirmary, laying him gently on the bed. 

“John, I’m not going to break,” Gale complained, trying to get back up, only to get shoved back down onto the bed. 

“I’m not riskin’ it, doll. Stay put or I’ll take you to the hospital,” John threatened. It wasn’t an idle threat, Gale knew, so he sighed and let himself flop against the pillow. His recollection was fuzzy, but from what he remembered, he and John had been walking through one of the pastures, checking the fencing, when he’d lost his balance and fallen, his head slamming into a post, and he’d crumpled to the ground. The next thing he remembered was waking up in John’s arms, being lifted off the ground. The image of John’s worried face stuck in his mind and Gale pinched the bridge of his nose, with some difficulty given how heavy his arm felt. His nose had been bleeding when he woke up– it had long since stopped– and he had a gash on his forehead next to the long, jagged scar from the fall that had left him temporarily paralyzed once. Gale had been nauseous and his head had been pounding from the get-go, but John had been moving too fast for him to tell him anything– for instance, that his furious, ground-eating gait was making Gale feel worse. The only words he’d been able to form were I’m, fine, stop, and John, his head feeling jumbled. John was by his side, when a moment before he hadn’t been, dabbing at the cut on his head with disinfectant and Gale flinched, hissing. 

“Sorry, doll, just let me get it cleaned and bandaged, okay?” 

“Fine,” Gale grumbled, watching John’s face scrunch with concentration. Gale, through his haze, absolutely knew he had another concussion. He wasn’t about to tell John, though– and not because words weren’t working for him– not wanting to be rushed to a doctor. John worked quickly, well practiced at tending to Gale by this point, and kissed the bandages when he was done, cupping Gale’s cheek and rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. 

“I know you don’t want to, but I think we should go see Doc tomorrow. You haven’t had a seizure in a while…” John spoke softly, soothingly, his touch gentle and warm, firm and grounding. Gale sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch on his cheekbone. 

“Fine…” Gale agreed, reluctantly, “but we better get ice cream while we’re out.”

[obanais-koibito]

~Falling For Him~

Bodyguard Giyu x Singer Reader P8 Finale

Tagging: @kimetsu-chan @larz-barz

(Art is NOT mine and belongs to its rightful owner)

It is bright and somewhat cold, your eyes slowly flutter open and you take your surroundings. The white walls, an IV beeping next to you and you see a lot of flower and cards addressed to you.

It then hits you that you are in a hospital, the memories wash over you and you flinch at the image of Haruto’s corpse that flashes across your vision. You slowly move to sit up but stop when a hand touches your shoulder to prevent you from doing so.

“Don’t move too fast, you just woke up.”

You easily recognize Giyu’s voice and you look over at him, you notice his eyes are a bit red and he has tear stains on his face. Tears fill your own eyes and you sniffle before forcing yourself to sit up and you hug him tightly. He reciprocates the hug immediately as a tear falls down his face and he places a kiss on the crown of your head.

You sniffle as you choke on a sob and you bite your bottom lip to prevent any sobs or cries to escape your mouth. After a moment, you swallow thickly and attempt to speak without your voice wavering or breaking.

“I-I was so s-scared…”

You whisper as you shut your eyes tightly and bury your face into his chest. Giyu brings a hand up to wipe his tears before he runs his fingers through your hair.

“I’m so sorry that he managed to get so close to you…”

He says quietly as his eyes close and he rests his chin upon your head, guilt eating at him like a never satisfied monster that needs to feed more and more. You look up with teary eyes but there was also gratitude in them.

“I am just glad t-that you saved me before h-he could do anything…”

You snuggle into his chest and then you see blood on his chest, the realization hitting you like a brick. Your eyes widen and you look up at him worriedly.

“Y-your chest! He shot you a-at the show! Are you okay?”

Panic rises in you but it simmers down when he gives you a reassuring smile. He places his hand on your cheek and uses his thumb to brush a stray tear away.

“I’m fine, don't worry, I’ve been through worse. The doctor has already tended to it, let’s worry about you sunshine, how are you feeling?”

His voice is gentle and warm as he caresses your cheek, his eyes looking into yours with concern and affection. You sniffle and snuggle into his hand before letting out a breath you did not realize you were even holding.

“My head is pounding…”

“I figured, you passed out…probably from how scared and panicked you were…”

He grabs a glass of water that was resting on the bedside drawer and hands it to you. He strokes your hair as he watches you drink half of the glass, his heart clenching at the thought of how exhausted you must be.

He feels guilt rise inside of him the more he thinks about it, if he was more skilled and experienced, Haruto would’ve never gotten so close to you.

He is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels you rest your head on his shoulder, the feeling of your fluffy hair brushing against his neck causes him to feel butterflies in his stomach.

He smiles down at you and rests his head on top of yours as his arm snakes around your waist. Your eyes begin to close from how exhausted you feel, you yawn and snuggle closer to Giyu.

“I love you Giyu…you’re my hero…”

You mumble in a sleepy voice before falling asleep, unaware of the way Giyu’s eyes widen and his heart skips a beat. His cheeks flush and he remains silent for a moment before a smile of genuine happiness makes its way to his face.

“I love you too, sunshine…”

He hugs you close to him and closes his eyes, basking in the warm and fuzzy feeling that you bring him.

EPILOGUE…

Three years have passed since the situation at your concert. You and Giyu are now married and have recently had a daughter. You are currently rocking your baby back and forth while singing a lullaby, Giyu watches from the doorframe with a loving expression.

“I love hearing you sing…”

He speaks gently after you finish the lullaby and place your daughter in her casket. You let out a giggle before placing a kiss on your daughter’s forehead.

“It’s clear that Namie loves to hear you sing as well.”

You smile and nod before walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his torso. He wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you into a warm and comfortable embrace.

“Do you ever miss being a famous singer?”

He suddenly asks after a few moments, you nuzzle into his neck and let out a sigh.

“Sometimes, but I love being able to spend more time with you and our daughter. I also didn’t want another situation to occur, so I thought that retiring would be for the best.”

He hums a response and nods, his fingers run through your hair at a soothing pace which causes your eyes to close. He then picks you up princess style and pecks your lips.

“Well, you’ll always be my little star, sunshine…”

You smile warmly and return the peck on the lips, warmth surging through your body.

“And you’ll always be my hero, my love…”

[searchingsomewhere]

Simple Things

Oneshot, Megumi x OC

After the fight with Hanami, Megumi goes to check in on his friend.

Introducing another of my OCs, Daiki. If you've read, All Too Well, you might recognize her technique. Of course, I'm happy to share more about it in a separate post as well if anyone is interested.

Images of his friends dying haunted Megumi's mind.

First, it was Yuji. Sometimes when he closed his eyes he could still see his friend's heart beating rapidly in the wet grass.

Then, it was Daiki. Megumi had never experienced fear like that. Even facing Sukuna was a more favorable feeling. The sickening sound of her limp body striking the ground, knees first before collapsing had struck a visceral cord in him he'd never experienced before.

His hands were clammy. It was pouring outside and awfully humid. Maybe he could just pretend that was why. He had no excuse for the fluttering in his stomach, though. Megumi nervously wiped his hand on his pants. His pocket weighed thousands of pounds.

Daiki was a level-headed person. She wouldn't think it's weird for him to check on her, right? They were friends. Friends did that kind of thing.

---

Every bone in Daiki's body ached. Every muscle, every vein, every hair on her head hurt every time she took a breath. Shoko was an incredible doctor, but even she had limits.

"Tell me your name," Daiki had said to the Special Grade, "So I know what to label your talisman."

She had been so cocky. So sure of herself that she could seal that tree branch freak away for good.

"Imanah$ouy#tsumeb/ehtreleas," it said.

Stupid broccoli looking ass couldn't even speak. Daiki squeezed her eyes closed, the memory creeping back in bringing nothing but sickening feelings of embarrassment with it.

At first, it worked. Inumaki had slowed it down just enough for her to slap her seal on its back. She poured as much cursed energy into it as she felt was safe to do, just to make sure it couldn't get out. And while her peers were marveling at her technique, she was too busy focusing on how fast the ground was spinning under her feet.

Then she felt the sudden surge of cursed energy burst from the paper talisman on the ground. Daiki had barely whipped her around to warn the others before that one armed asshole popped back into existence in an explosion of paper, smoke, and debris.

Daiki gripped her pillow, shoving her face into it.

That thing was faster and stronger than anything she had encountered before. The last thing she heard before starting her Domain Expansion hand signs was Megumi's panicked scream. She had barely gotten one sign completed before she was thrown into the wall.

Her memory was patchy from there on. She vaguely recalled the sensation of being picked up, her head lulling to the side while someone was screaming for her to wake up. And in all the chaos, she lost her favorite bracelet. It must have snapped apart when she hit the wall.

Better my bracelet than my spine, I guess, she thought bitterly. Tsukiyomi had warned her just a few days before.

"One day, Daiki, you'll be forced to decide when to sacrifice your life."

"Were you?" Daiki asked.

Her mentor's green gaze drifted to the window. She saw the scar running down the side of her neck.

"Yeah. I think I was a few years older than you."

And when was that supposed to be? She wasn't ready to die. She hadn't been, even when the overgrown bush broke out of her seal. Starting her Domain hadn't been for herself. The image of a boy with navy blue eyes came to mind. A sharp knock on the door brought her out of her brooding.

--

Megumi swallowed thickly as the door opened. No going back. Daiki stood on the other side, dressed in a oversized long sleeve shirt and leggings. Her dark braided hair was disheveled as if she'd been asleep. Dark circles underlined her large brown eyes.

He'd never been so relieved to see someone alive.

"Hey," Megumi said, clearing his throat.

"...Hey," Daiki said, rubbing her arm.

"Um...I just came to check on you."

Daiki nodded, "I'm alright."

"You look like shit."

"I feel like shit, so that's fair."

God, this was awkward. Megumi told himself to keep talking.

"If it makes you feel any better, I couldn't exorcise that thing either," he said, "Yuji and Todo took care of it until Gojo could get there."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded. "If anyone could beat it, it'd be those two."

"Listen," Megumi said suddenly, before he lost the nerve, "I actually wanted to give you this."

He pulled the bracelet from his pocket and held it out to her. The brown glass beads were smooth under the hall lights. Daiki gasped and took it from him to inspect it.

"What the- Megumi, how did you find it?"

"It took awhile to find all of the beads. Some were missing, so Nobara helped me pick out new ones."

"...Thank you. Thank you!" Daiki said excitedly.

She threw her hands over his neck in a hug. Megumi felt his face grow warm. He quickly wrapped his arms around her waist. To keep things from getting awkward. Obviously. Instinctively, he squeezed her tight.

"I'm glad you're alright, Daiki," he said quietly into her ear.

She slowly pulled away from him, face flush. He released her, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. Daiki slid the bracelet onto her wrist. Nobara was a good guesser- it fit perfectly. She kept her gaze down.

"I didn't want you to get hurt," she said, "So I'm glad you're alright too."

They exchanged a few more words, how were the others, what happened with the curse, just normal things friends would talk about. Megumi excused himself finally so she could rest. He glanced back at her as he walked away. She was watching him. The faintest smile darted across her lips. Megumi's own mouth tugged into a smile and he turned away. The nervous fluttering in his stomach was slowly being replaced by a more tender feeling.

[boxleitners-return-au]

Becky woke up the next morning leaning against the window with her cape wrapped around her like a blanket. She noticed that while she still felt like she was drowning in oil, it wasn’t as bad as yesterday.

She looked behind her at the doctor, who had seemingly taken her spot on the couch, still fast asleep and snoring in an incredibly undignified manner. She wondered for a second if he was doing it to annoy her, but she quickly put out that thought.

He was her best bet at getting back home and getting back her powers, she had to play nice. Besides he was probably really stressed out too, if that mouse brain was even capable of any emotion besides hunger. 

Home, back to her family, back to her sidekick. She’d been worried sick about him ever since she woke up. When they were knocked out midair Huggy had been thrown in the opposite direction that she had, there was no telling what happened to him. 

She comforted herself by imagining that he got all their family and friends and hid away, perhaps a secret bunker or something. She giggled to herself as the image of her family blissfully misunderstanding a frantic Bob trying to tell them to run with some sort of monkey charades.

Her fantasy was short lived however, because when she looked back out the big window she saw two familiar shapes, creeping hauntingly behind one of the dead trees that littered the warehouse’s lawn. Joy overtook her, her friends had come to save her! Now they could- oh, oh no. She recognized those swirling red eyes. 

Mind control.

(Continues below)

It wasn't because Mr. Big, his whole schtick generally had a green hue. This was something brand new.

That new alien super villain got to them. 

Letting her instincts take over, Becky dove down out of sight from the window. She whisper-yelled at Twobrains to wake up.

“Hey!”

“...”

“HEY”

“Agh! What- what is your problem! Will you stop waking me u-”

She pointed aggressively outside

He followed her finger and froze. She grabbed him by the collar and with some effort managed to pull him to the ground below the window sill with her. She had to take a moment to catch her breath, frustration overtook her as she realized that an action as simple as that was now enough to wind her a bit.

Twobrains’ eyes flickered with anxiety as she tried to even out her breathing, but he shook his head and looked out the window.

“They’re looking for me. They have to be.”

“Oh come on, give me a little credit. I’m sure Amazo is just dying to catch up with me”

“What could he possibly- wait. Amazo Guy? Like- Like in your book?”

“Yeah. Did you seriously not recognize him?”

“No! I mean- he looked familiar, but I thought he- the book guy- was fictional!”

“You think I just made up some dude to feature on the cover of my book? What kind of scientist do you take me for!” “So wait. This was an actual dude that you knew. And now you’re both evil?” 

“Well we don’t know if he’s evil evil-”

“I cannot believe you never mentioned him before!”

“I had! In my book! Which apparently you hadn’t read as thoroughly as you said you had!”

“Yes I did!”

 “Appaaarently not. I’m hurt, Wordgirl, I am.”

“I did so! I read your book so much, I can recite any passage from it, just try me.”

“You expect me to believe you’re that much of a fan?”

“Yes! I am a huge fan! The biggest fan in the world actually!”

Becky crossed her arms with a smug expression before her eyes shot open and she realized what she said. Twobrains was holding back a laugh behind his hand. “Yeah? Yeah really? Yeah tell me how much you love me. I’m your favorite author right?”

Becky’s face went red as she proceeded to sock him in the arm. He flinched in pain despite the lack of super strength.

“Shut up. So you got one hit, big whoop.”

Twobrains patted her shoulder with another laugh. Both of their faces fell and they instantly crowded back against the wall as they heard a twig snap outside.

“Now how are we gonna get out of this?” 

They sat there for a moment before Becky got a sheepish look on her face.

“Well… we could always try plan 208…”

Twobrains groaned. “Is that really the best we got?”

Becky sighed “I think it is doc. Now let's not dilly-dally, we have to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“You did not just say ‘dilly-dally’”

“Would you just get on with it!”

________

Hi! *Taps on mic* Anyone here? So! I disappeared for a little bit but I have an update here if anyone's interested

I want to update more but I have 0 motivation to draw i'll be completely honest, so if I do update it will probably come more in writing form like this, would that be okay?

Anyways here's the next part! The sillies are silly, and Huggy and Rex have been captured >:D

First Part

Previous Part

[starseneyes]

Chenford REWIND - Lucy Chen / Tim Bradford - The Rookie - Season 3 Eps 7 & 8

I had a request for Episode 8, but that would mean 7 was living in a bubble without a real anchor. So, I decided to pair these two together for a two-fer.

I also realized that by getting these two written up, I'll have finished an entire season. Huzzah!

SPOILER ALERT: Standard warning applies. Please don't click the "Keep Reading" and expect not to get spoiled. I'm going to spoil these episodes (and everything that came before) to pieces. I do try to write these without foreknowledge, just so you're aware.

Kosher? Cool. Let's dive in.

"True Crime" AKA Grumpy/Sunshine Meme Activated

Lucy and Tim's First Interview

It strikes me that even as Tim is sitting down, he's turned in and looking at Lucy. At this point, Lucy is comfortable to Tim. What they're about to do isn't.

Tim hates this, but he's gonna do it. I don't know if it was a direct order from Grey, or he wanted to make sure it was done right so he was going to do it, damnit, but he's here and he's not happy about it.

Lucy, on the other hand, is thrilled. Her True Crime loving heart is filled to bursting and no doubt she's researched every person who was going to be there so she could fangirl all the more. It's adorable.

Also, these two make for good television. I mean, we already knew that, but the pretend producers happening onto this had me rolling. I bet the True Crime fans call them "Chenford" and perhaps that's the way the term might make it into the show someday.

"I'm sorry, I cut you off. I'm sorry."

She's so damn excited! And they haven't quite gotten their back-and-forth rhythm down that they will later display with gusto. It's close once she calms down, but girlfriend is thrilled right now, and Tim's "this is bullshit" meter is rising with every passing second.

"This is fun."

Tim looks at Lucy like she's grown a second head. And I'm trying to pick myself up from the floor where I've been rolling with laughter.

Look, the Grumpy/Sunshine trope is beloved for a reason, and we always knew Tim and Lucy had it in them. We've seen glimpses of it before. But sitting them down in an interview situation for an hour? This is pure gold!

I wasn't a fan at the time of airing, so I can only imaging how many memes were born out of these moments. It's amazing.

"Holy crap." "What is it?" "It's a, it's a-" "A what?" "A mummy. In a suit." "What?!"

Because, what else would a Mummy under a bed wear, right?

Eric Winter has this really wonderfully exasperated way of saying, "What!?" where you can really hear both the exclamation point and the question mark.

It reminds me of David Tenant during his run on Doctor Who. There was an entire scene in the TARDIS where he said "What!?" several times, and that was pretty much all he had to say on his first meeting of Donna.

It's. So. Funny. To have the ability to make a word funny. David Tenant and Eric Winter share that "What!?" power, and I kinda think Tim would enjoy the reference (see Season 4 to understand why).

"What's that saying? Those who can't do, teach?" *laugh*

We got a Tim laugh!? I mean, he made himself laugh, but it's still so cuuuuute. Like, rough, tough, mean-faced Tim having a chuckle is somehow so endearing. Especially at this phase, when we haven't seen him even smile much.

FAST FORWARD: There will be a day when we see smiley Tim. If you're just watching for the first time and wondering if it's coming... Tim's arc is one of the most complete (thus far) of the show. Stay tuned...

"You were literally my teacher. What are you saying?"

Ah, yes, the one indication that this episode was written in a post-"Amber" world where Lucy is no longer a Rookie.

See, the early days of COVID were a fustercluck for productions. I happen to know some people who worked through it, and there were so many different models of how to cope with it, copious amounts of hand sanitizer, masks, zones, wait periods in hotels for a week after landing, etc.

Now, there are more structured COVID protocols, but in the early days we knew so little about what was happening, and it impacted productions, ended series before they began, and delayed some seasons of shows that have now been permanently shelved.

So, Season 3's episodes aired in a very strange order compared to how it was written. Now, I'm grateful that the writers established Lucy and Tim's new dynamic early in the season so that's it's consistent, even when she's no longer his Rookie. So, I don't feel the need to call-out the air date vs production number, much.

But since the lower third provided for Tim and Lucy identified her as a Rookie, we know that this is supposed to happen during her Rookie year. But this one word lets us know something is amiss, if we're really paying attention.

And, golly, it's a word. I'm not trying to be dramatic, but trying to clarify for anyone who might not be aware of the whole Pandemic-fucked-everyone-over nature of Season 3 that makes this one word out of place.

So, if you ever wondered why Lucy used past tense instead of present tense, there's your answer.

Synchronicity

The moment they learn someone they know has been affected, they turn to one another.

And I love the synchronicity, here. Tim and Lucy have worked together a year, at this point, and they are very in sync with one another.

FAST FORWARD: Watch them undercover in 5x01 with how they sort of shift with one another, as though there's a cosmic pull between them that waves and they move with it. I feel that the evolution of their synchronicity really starts here in Season 3.

"It's LA. It's not the first time I've found a script at a crime scene." "I've only been on the job for a year and I've already found three." "Have either of you ever written one?" "God, no." *silence* "It was for a class."

Because she knows how he feels about screenwriters. If only Caleb had said "screenwriter" as his profession because then Tim would've locked him up right away.

"He was trying to cut her out—from the script, the cult, and the money."

True Crime Kink Activated. Look at how Lucy Chen is scoping out her future husband when he rattles off some Law-and-Order level soundbite. Girlfriend is surprisingly turned on at those words rolling off of his tongue. Oooh, the places that tongue could go.

*ahem* Now, Lucy's not going to jump his bones anytime soon, but there's definitely a moment there where she's finding Tim Bradford a little hotter than usual.

Who would've known the key to Lucy's heart was an oxford comma?

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right?" "Cool. Way to trivialize female anger." "Hey, I'm not trivializing. All sorts of crimes are motivated by jealous ex-partners." "And how many of those ex-partners are men?" "Most."

See!? See what I mean!? These two are hilarious. We've seen Lucy call Tim on stuff, before, but this format is allowing them to be hilarious with it.

And I love the way he gives her the side-eye before saying "most". It reminds me of the side-eye he will give Grey in a future episode when having to tell a story he'd rather keep private.

"I heard it was Office Chen who broke the case wide open." "I don't know if I'd describe it quite that way." "How would you describe it then?"

Married. This is so married. Because Lucy is giving him the "don't try me" wife face, glaring at her man on-camera for mass consumption.

The fact that he stares right back and doesn't turn to ashes is only because Lucy didn't want to commit murder on-camera. But I love the way Melissa O'Neil is playing Lucy's confidence in this episode.

"Her addiction to social media finally paid off." "That is hurtful."

I bet he's not even on Social Media. That makes it easier for whatever relationships he'll have along the way before he and Lucy finally get it together (I have faith). No need to change your relationship status online when you don't have it listed to begin with.

That said, Lucy's Mom totally has a shadow account that she uses to stalk her daughter to spy and see if she's found a stable man, yet.

The Wrong Video

I love how embarrassed Lucy is, and how Tim tries to get a look at what the heck she played before she gets it onto the right video. He looks actively concerned. Like, "Please don't tell me you're one of those 'dance challenge' girls because I was just starting to respect you."

And, look, no shade from me. But Tim Bradford likes to throw shade, and I'm betting he'd throw some on Lucy if he'd gotten a glimpse of that video.

"Okay, look, the case was definitely weird. But, I mean, come on, all this? This feels so exploitational. The low-hanging fruit of celebrity scandal and murder."

Tim is not wrong. A lot of what is on television relating to celebrity scandal is exploitative. But I love Lucy, here. Melissa O'Neil gets a lot to play with in this episode, and she does not let it go to waste.

She has nailed the withering sigh of your wife sitting beside you as she lets you rant and dig your own grave.

"You should be making serious documentaries about things that really matter." "My last film was about climate injustice in Puerto Rico. It won a BAFTA." "Oh. Well. Alright, then."

And Lucy's withering sigh has transitioned to a knowing look. Like, Tim, you need to talk to your wife about this stuff, more. She has the 411 and will keep you from getting embarrassed.

"You got, you got something in your hair." "What?" "It's kind of-." "Has it been there the whole time?" "Yeah, it's pretty big. Let's get out of here." "I would tell you if you had broccoli in your teeth, man. What the heck?"

Am I the only one who thinks there wasn't really anything there? Because, Tim is so ready to be done with this, and Lucy's high over doing the interview is totally annoying him.

"Bad Blood"

Breaking Up... In A Text

Look, this is totally the coward's way out... but when Lucy's face lit up to see his message, I might've vomited in my mouth a little.

So, seeing him break it off brought out a little cheer. Huzzah! But, oh, no, poor Lucy. But *whispers* huzzah Chenford *whispers*.

I've never had someone break up with me over text... because the only person I've dated since Text Messaging has been widely available is my husband. I remember the first time we saw people texting all the time in England and we couldn't quite get why.

But I did have a boyfriend break up with me over the phone on my 17th birthday... the week of prom... because he was cheating on me because I wouldn't sleep with my first boyfriend 2 months into dating him. Later found out the entire reason we dated was because he had a reputation as a "de-virginator" and none of our friends warned me. I don't keep in touch with most of them anymore.

So, while I'm not quite on Lucy's level of indignation, I understand the frustration to have your boo cut it off in the most cowardly way available.

And putting Tim in the middle!? Emmett, my man, what are you doing!? You already have one half of Chenford wanting to set you on fire. Piss of Tim and he'll happily help her finish the job.

"I can't believe him... breaking up with me by text? What is he, 14? He doesn't have the guts to do it in person?" "Most guys don't."

Tim looks over to Jackson on that beat. I bet Tim would never do that, but he's also only got his own limited experience. Jackson's actually dated other men, so he knows better than Tim, in this case.

"Look, just be happy he didn't ghost you." "Can we get to work now?" "Did Emmett talk to you about this?" "No. Why would he?" "Because you're friends." "We don't talk feelings. We drink and watch sports together." "That's guy for friends." "Straight guy for friends."

I think Lucy doesn't quite yet understand what Tim considers a "friend". Because, at this point Tim does have one solid friend. Angela.

And, yes, we are in the era of Tim and Lucy being friends, but I'd argue it isn't until Season 4 when they are as interwoven into each other's lives (if not moreso) than Tim and Angela.

Also to note... Lucy is holding her phone the entire scene. She quite literally can't let it go.

"Look, you want my advice-"

She does. Look at her open-mouthed, wide-eyed, hoping he'll say something to make this atrocity better. And she did tell him that she values his opinion.

Gosh, I wish I could tell her to lower her expectations right about now.

"Walk it off. Clearly he's the wrong guy for you."

As said by her future husband. What? I couldn't leave that alone! Emmett is definitely the wrong guy for Lucy. But Tim's still learning how to comfort Lucy, and this time wow did our boy get it wrong.

"It's the same advice he would give me if I got hit by a pitch. What is wrong with men?"

Trust me, Lucy. Someday you'll come to appreciate his sports metaphors. And find a new appreciation for baseball!

Yes, I try to write these without foreknowledge, but c'mon! It's right there!

"Have you ever been dumped out of the blue before?" "Let me think. One time my wife left the house in the middle of the night and I didn't see her again for two years."

Yeahhh... Um. I'm not touching that. Because Tim Bradford's being flippant, and it's warranted here.

But (yes, there's a but), Tim doesn't understand all of Lucy's hangups about how she sees herself, yet. He doesn't fully understand the weight of her mother's expectations. And how she has never felt enough.

Like, she can handle romantic rejection. She doesn't like it, but she can handle it. But why wasn't she worth a real breakup? That's what's playing in her head. She need to know the why. Why wasn't she good enough for some basic decency?

"Okay, I get it, in the grand scheme of things, this isn't that bad. I just want to know why. Can you please ask?"

If she can understand it, she can process it. But we all know Tim isn't asking his drinking buddy about his feelings—unless that feeling is about how he feels about the Rams not living up to their potential.

"He must've been a seriously hardcore guy for you to obsess like that. What was his main crime?"

Because Tim would only obsess if it was something important, right? Right!?

"3EYEZ tagged your shop back when you were a Rookie?" "My TO was chasing a suspect. I was guarding a vehicle full of evidence." "A vehicle that was ten feet away from your Shop. It's right in your notes."

I love how Tim's trying to rationalize this away. He has a habit of doing that when he's called out—trying to minimize his own embarrassment by stating facts. (Trust me, he does it at the beginning of 5x01 with Angela)

But, Timmy, Lucy's got the facts in her hands. And you totally dropped the ball.

"I was ordered to keep my eyes on the car. I'd just left the Army where you follow orders to a T."

He thinks this'll get her to back down, but Lucy's long past being afraid of Tim. In fact, she's openly laughing at him. And I low-key love it because this is a form of flirtatious teasing.

Look, these two have a completely unique language. Pranks. Embarrassing photos. And even this harmless giggling.

They're comfortable around each other, and by now they know what's crossing the line with each other. So, it doesn't bother me that Lucy's teasing him, here. In fact, I think it's adorable.

"Oh, man, I can just imagine the relentless teasing. Did they give you a nickname? Please say yes." *yoinks paper* "No."

But your eyes say yes. Wow, now I sound like some of those creepy Christmas songs from the 50's. You know the ones.

"That's why you're so intent on catching this guy. It's personal."

Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner! Look, when Tim tried to call in the cavalry when he first saw the tag, I wondered what the hell I was missing. Lucy, apparently, was, too.

Is this tag a symbol of a gang war? Or a killing spree? What terrible, horrible thing is going to happen because of this?

Nada. Nothing. Nil. Except maybe Tim Bradford's ego getting a bit bruised.

"Even if we were to track him down for tagging our Shop, it's a misdemeanor. Is that really the best use of our time?" *yoinks another paper* "I will get us a fresh Shop."

There's something so delicious about Tim's silent protest via yoinking those papers. And Lucy knows him well enough that they're done talking.

Look, these episodes aren't about pent up sexual tension or the angst of longing. These are foundational episodes, and what we're seeing is Tim and Lucy learning to work together. They're increasingly a unit in Season 3, even though Lucy spends most of it still his Rookie.

They're learning how to communicate with one another. So, if they ever do get their acts together, they're already going to have that part down pretty well.

"Let's go. Not a word about the Shop."

He knows her well enough to know that she'll tease him. She knows him well enough that if he says he doesn't want it, she's not going to do it.

See? They're communicating!

"What? You disapprove. You think I'm just dating him to make Emmet jealous? Heck, yeah. Maybe I am. But, he deserves it. Will you say something, please?"

Lucy processes by talking it out, we know, and when Tim doesn't interject, she starts projecting. Because even she knows going out with this guy isn't purely motivated. She's hurting and lashing out, and she knows it.

Tim's simply listening. But when she asks him to speak, he realizes that's what she needs.

See? Communicating!

"Today's the first time you've talked about Emmett in weeks." "You hate it when I talk about personal stuff."

Nice excuse. Look, Tim and Lucy are mirroring each other a lot this episode. They both have personal things that they're obsessing over that are clouding their judgment and thoughts.

And they're both rationalizing. Tim rationalized missing the tagger when he was a Rookie by saying he was just following orders. Lucy is rationalizing not talking about Emmett by defaulting to Tim's dislike of personal talk in the Shop.

They're both not thinking clearly. And, of course, it takes the other to help them get through.

"And yet you still do. But in all those conversations, you haven't said one word about your boyfriend." "What are you saying?" "Look, maybe Emmett treated the relationship like it didn't matter because you treated it like it didn't matter."

The realization hits her that he's right. It's one of those rare moments where Tim's the one helping Lucy examine herself. But that's what I love about them. They help refine one another. It's a give and take, and not just one person "healing" the other.

Tim and Lucy are on their own, personal journeys to healing and self-realization. But, I'll argue, each is a vital part of that journey. But to give one or the other full credit is to ignore the individual's effort to grow.

Tim and Lucy are growing together. And I love that so much more than one patching the other up. We're not patching up holes, we're actually healing. Yes, there will always be scars. But the healing makes it all so much more bearable, and so much easier to fully live, again.

But when he sees the realization hit her, his gaze softens. Tim hates to see her in pain. But we're not quite at the point where he's going to offer her comfort, especially on the job.

After all, Lucy is still his Rookie, and he needs to keep the lines firm between them. Because, if he were honest, he'd realize they're already getting blurrier and blurrier.

"Alright. Focus up. You read the file. Do you think 3EYEZ is done for the day?"

Tim's trying to get her back on track, like he has so many times before. But, Tim knows her well enough to know that sometimes barking out orders isn't enough for Lucy.

She needs something to help her switch her brain, something else to think about. They've done her mock-plan of how to sabotage her ex's wedding, before. This time, Tim tries a different tactic—he offers a piece of himself.

"Eagle Eye."

Lucy looks at him with confusion while I shove my face into a pillow so the kids don't hear me squealing and come running in here, mistaking it for screaming.

Tim doesn't have to do this. But he wants to. He wants to let Lucy Chen in just a little more.

"What?" "The nickname I got. After the Shop got tagged right under my nose." *giggle* "But it wasn't my TO who came up with it. It was Isabel. It kind of became her pet name for me." "Aw. That's sweet."

It's still hard for him to talk about Isabel. Those wounds are still healing, even though he's tested the dating pool a little. And it's important to remember that he and Isabel did have good times. There was a time when Tim had a lot of happiness in his life.

But he opens up a little to Lucy, here. He gives her insight. He gives a little of himself. And that's huge. He's starting to talk about Isabel without tearing up, without scowling, without the same agonizing pain striking his chest.

It still hurts. To a degree, it'll always hurt. But it's starting to heal. And I love that when he's starting to get healthier, the first person who gets to see it is Lucy.

We're not to the point of them swapping saliva and dreaming of the other's taste. But, we're building a really solid friendship. Heck, Lucy giggled when Tim opened up just now.

And I've talked about it a bit in this Meta, but I think it's important to draw out that Lucy has become comfortable to him. Why is this important?

FAST FORWARD: Remember the famous double date of S4? Why did Tim invite Lucy? Because he wanted a source of comfort in this truly uncomfortable situation. So, later when Bargain Barbie remarks about his creature comforts and about how he needs to get out and do more... nobody takes into account that Lucy is one of his comforts. So, once he and Lucy start dating, they are out all the time together. Why? Because he doesn't need all the other comforts when he's with her. Lucy is his comfort.

Thank y'all for reading and going on this journey with me. I think with this Meta, I've finished my tour of Season 3! It was a short season, so that made it a bit easier to chunk out.

And sorry this one took so long. My roof's leaking and it looks like I'm emptying out my 401K to replace it. It's always something, but I remain grateful. I've faced my death a few times in my lifetime, so every day I'm given is an absolute gift.

Just gotta take it one breath at a time.

[whumperfultime]

Whumpril 2024 Day 4: Swaying

@whumpril

Contains: Head injury, concussion, vehicular crash, dizziness, platonic comfort

~

One second they were driving down the tree-lined road leading back to their hotel. The next second Matago heard a revving engine close behind.

Then he was weightless and everything came in flashes.

The ATV taking a sharp left swerve. Dace crying out and brakes squealing. A blur of green and brown and dust flying into the air.

Finally, a burst of pain as his head slammed against the ground.

Then the movement stopped. Matago sucked in a deep breath, his ribs aching and hopefully not broken. Grass and dirt rubbed against his palms as he struggled to push himself upright.

He was distantly aware of noises and movement around him. A trio of unfamiliar men ran towards the ditch where the transport had crashed, forcing open the back storage compartment and grabbing the bags inside. As fast as they arrived, they charged back up the hill to a van parked on the side of the road and clambered inside. Then the van sped off, leaving everything suddenly quiet.

Matago’s eyes fluttered shut. The flashing images started to connect in his mind – someone had run them off the road and into a ditch.

“Shit…are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes again and slowly turned his throbbing head to the left. To his relief, it was Dace, stumbling past the wrecked transport to greet him. By some miracle the other man appeared mostly unhurt, aside from some rough scrapes and cuts on his left side. He must have been able to hold on to the handlebars enough to avoid getting thrown off the seat.

“Yeah,” Matago replied, his voice quiet and weak. “You good?”

“As far as I know.” Dace crouched down next to him, looking him over for visible injuries. “You?”

It took Matago a moment to piece together the words for an answer. “Head hurts,” he slurred. “Don’t think anything’s broken, though.”

Dace frowned, and even in his disoriented state, Matago knew what he was thinking. That wasn’t just a simple bump on the head, was it?

“Okay…we should be able to walk back to the hotel, it’s not too far. Kalei can call for medical services or rent a transport to get you to a doctor.”

More of the pieces connected in Matago’s mind as he caught a glimpse of the open storage compartment. “They stole the money.”

Fuck. The payment of twenty thousand credits from their last job gone. A colleague of a colleague had apparently warned Kalei about thieves targeting drivers in the area near their hotel, but the three of them had brushed it off as a rumor. Looked like there was truth to it after all.

“We’ll deal with that later. Do you think you can stand?”

“Guess I’ll find out.”

With Dace’s help, Matago managed to slowly push himself upright along the edge of the ditch, eventually straightening to the point that Dace could pull him into a standing position.

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t just a bump on the head.

A wave of dizziness crashed over him, nearly sending him tumbling back to the ground. The uneven dirt beneath his feet only made it harder to keep his balance. He staggered a few steps forward and back, grabbing hold of Dace, the most solid physical anchor he had.

“Whoah, whoah, you okay?” Dace was thankfully strong enough to be able to hold him upright as he stumbled.

“Dizzy,” was all he could say in reply. The ground seemed to rock beneath him no matter where he tried to plant his feet.

“I could try to run back to the hotel and get Kalei first-”

Matago shook his head, then grimaced at another throbbing pulse of pain. “Don’t…don’t wanna be here if those guys come back.”

Dace stood rigid for a moment, weighing the options, while Matago swayed on shaky legs.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “If you think you can make it that far.”

Dace adjusted them both so Matago could lean on him further, then began to guide him towards a spot further down the ditch where the hill to the road was less steep. Matago stumbled on every third or fourth step even putting all his focus onto keeping his balance.

His mind fogged over as they reached the roadside. Only two thoughts remained clear: the nagging voice that told him he wouldn’t make it back to the hotel this way and the relentless determination trying to silence it.

[sulfur-eyes]

Uh I’m new to this whole content warning thing so sorry if I get anything wrong.

CW: panic attacks, angst, trauma, night terrors, minor blood? uHH shoot I dunno.

To Steve- Eddie’s house was more comfy, more lived in, happier, alive. He was there more often, especially after they started dating.

Steve had gotten so accustomed to fewer nightmares since he’d started staying at Eddie’s place, sleeping together. Always curled up and taking turns with who would be the big spoon that night.

So it’s a shock to his system when he wakes up one night from a particularly bad nightmare. It felt more like a vision. Eddie lying there, dead in the upside-down and Steve knowing that he’d failed another person. Desperately grabbing his shirt, his skin, begging him to come back. He can feel it, it’s too real. It’s all too real.

He woke up with a gasp. clutching at his damp night shirt, choking on air. He blinked a few times then squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to catch his breath, but all he saw were static stars and that image of Eddie’s dead eyes staring back at him. Usually he was able to look over at Eddie and relax again- but tonight. Tonight was not one of those nights. Ever since starcourt he’d been having hallucinations. Brought on by the head trauma from the ‘fire’, so doctors said. Well Steve hadn’t told anyone, not that he was seeing things. He could deal with it. He COULD. He had to be the strong one. If he wasn’t the strong one then what was he…?

Weak.

Usually he could sit it out, blink rapidly until it fizzled out. But tonight the vision wouldn’t go away, Eddie still lying there- now in the bed. Sheets soaked with blood, those eyes boring a hole through his heart. Steve patted around the sheets, he could feel they were dry, he could feel Eddie’s eyes were closed, but that didn’t make anything he saw less horrible. He gave a strangled sound before he threw off the covers and ran to the bathroom to hide, locking it behind him. Just so Eddie didn’t follow him in. Didn’t see this pathetic crybaby version of him. Out of everyone he needed to be strong for he needed to be strong for Eddie. He’d only ever cried in the safety of his own room- away from anyone. Everyone. No one could see him like this.

He found the farthest corner of the small room. Pressing against the cool tile wall and sliding down to curl up into a tight ball as he felt tears welling in his eyes, strong and stinging, they burned as he sobbed into his arms. His heart thudded in his chest and ears, his vision tunneled until all he could hear was the rushing blood and pumping of his own heart. Getting air into his lungs was an impossible task, he thought his chest might explode.

Eddie woke up from the frantic patting on his face and groaned “Stevie, babe- it’s like 3 am what are you-“ he lightly batted his hand away, adjusting to the darkness just enough that he could see Steve’s figure run for the bathroom seemingly in a hurry. And then- then. Sobs. Muffled like he was trying to keep them quiet but god they sounded nothing short of wails. Well boy did that wake Eddie up fast. He sprinted to that door and knocked. “Steve- Steve! Hey- Stevie what’s wrong- Cmon- open the door.” He jiggled the handle and let out a curse as he realized it was locked. He heard a particularly sharp cry from Steve. Was it Vecna? Was he back? Or worse? What was worse!! “Sweetheart let me in- I can help! Steve-!” Eddie glanced down at the handle to the door, remembering that the keyhole was on his side.

Eddie had been a crazy kid, often snatching whatever sweets Wayne put out and running to eat his fill of sugar in the safe haven of the bathroom. He changed the lock so he could unlock it from the outside so Eddie didn’t constantly have sugar crashes. Only problem is that when Wayne realized that Eddie was doing much worse than stuffing cookies into his face in the bathroom he gave up in caring about his sugar intake and discarded the key somewhere. Another curse left his lips before pressing his forehead to the door, still only hearing desperate choked back cries.

“Steve? I’ll be right back- I’ll be right there just. Just hold on okay? Hold on!” He began to frantically pull open drawers, cabinets, boxes, anything he could find. After a good five scattered minute of searching he spotted it in a cup of random things they tossed in there. Giving a short ‘aha!’ before sprinting back to the bathroom, his hands trembled and fumbled as he tried to open the lock. Once he heard the click he quickly burst open the door, just short of breaking it down if the key didn’t work.

God what a heartbreaking sight, Steve seemed so small, vulnerable, dare Eddie say weak. It wasn’t Vecna- thankfully. But that didn’t make it much better. The former jock’s body was wracked with shudders, he was wheezing like he couldn’t breathe, and the strangled sobbing that emitted him scared Eddie to death. He looked up in a panic as Eddie entered, quickly shaking his head and shielding himself away once more- he wanted to say ‘no, don’t look at me like this.’ Or ‘get out’ but all he could mutter was “no, no, no, no.” And hold out a trembling hand as though to stop him while Eddie approached like he was a feral cat. Eddie was stubborn and he wouldn’t let Steve suffer alone.

“Steve… hey- Steve, I’m right here. I’m right here. Talk to me.” He knelt down next to him, Steve leaned away, turning his face to the side, tears continued to cascade down his cheeks. “No. Don’t— look away— go away” Steve choked out, hiccuping as he willed the tears to stop. Stop. STOP.

They didn’t.

“Whatever it is you can tell me. I can help. Let me help..” Eddie’s voice strained and desperate. Steve shook his head “no-hic- you can’t— I—“ his throat caught before he managed to force the words out. “I don’t wa-ant you to see me- hic- like this. Go away-” he tried to bat a hand in Eddie’s general direction but it was hard with his face buried in his arm and knees and the darkness of the corner.

“See you like what- Steve- what happened. What’s wrong…” he settled down next to Steve, his heart ached to help him. “I’m- not sup-supposed go cry— I’m supposed to b-buh-be s-strong- boys do-on’t cry!“ came his response, voice cracking. Eddie’s brows furrowed. “What? Says who? Who told you that?”

Steve didn’t respond, only able to cough and hiccup every so often. “Your dad?” Eddie supplied, and it was a moment before Steve gave a nod. He puffed out a breath of disdain, one more reason to hate Mr. Harrington. “well, I’m pretty sure your dad cried when he was born so he doesn’t get a say.” Steve gave the smallest wet laugh then a cough, kind of seemed like it hurt.

“It’s okay to cry Stevie, it’s good. Everyone should cry. You don’t have to be strong all the time- no one can be. ‘S just not possible.” Eddie reached towards him only to hesitate. “Can I hug you?” he asked, Steve took another long moment before giving a nod.

Eddie wrapped his arms tight around the other boy, squeezing him close in a vice grip. Because that’s the way Steve likes to be hugged, tight, he needed to know that he was there. That he wouldn’t let go. Steve turned into Eddie, face burying into his chest. He wasn’t choking on air anymore, but Eddie could feel a wet spot forming on the tank top where his face was. His body still shaking like a leaf. “Was it a nightmare?” He asked, Steve only gave a shrug. No words.

“Okay. You’re safe. I promise.” Steve clung to the fabric of his shirt like if he let go he’d fall off the edge of the world. It was awhile before his crying eventually reduced to sniffles as Eddie rocked them gently in the dark of the bathroom, petting through his hair just the way Steve liked. When he finally stopped shaking and his breathing was normal enough, Eddie helped him get up and led him back to the bedroom, back into the bed while Steve rubbed tear tracks from his face. Eddie grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and had him drink until it was empty, rubbing a soothing hand over his back.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Steve shook his head.

“Alright, later. Another time.”

Steve’s eyes flicked from Eddie back to the glass before giving a nod. Later. Another time. That worked.

They both managed to fall asleep again, tangled up together tighter than before, swaddled in too many blankets. And Eddie wouldn’t ask until Steve was ready, but he’d be there ready to help when he was. Because he understood all too well.

Yippidie doo da The End. Frankly this was like a self indulgent thing, not everyone’s panic attacks are the same. I wrote my own experience with them but this doesn’t go for everyone. Don’t go touching people if they’re freaking out like this, always ask first!! Panic attacks also don’t always stop this quick but I have a word limit unlike real life so. :// ah well. Hope you enjoyed!!

[sofya-fanfics]

The Stars Will Always Lead Me To You

Fandoms : Naruto / Doctor Who

Relationship : Thirteen x Sakura

My Crossover Ships Week 2023 contribution for the prompt : Reincarnation.

I’m sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language. I hope you like it.

Summary : Sakura put her head in her hands as a sharp pain ran through her. She had never felt this. It was as if her head was going to explode from too much information. Thousands of images raced through her head. She lowered her hands and opened her eyes. She remembered everything. Her name was Rose Tyler and she had regenerated.

Disclaimer : Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and Doctor Who belongs to the BBC.

@crossover-ships-brainrot​

AO3 / FF.NET

The Doctor ran as fast as he could. The ship was heading straight towards a black hole, with about ten people on board. He had thought about all the possibilities and he had found a single solution. He had to gather everyone in one part of the ship and separate the other part to prevent the black hole from sucking them in entirely. But for that, someone had to stay at the risk of being sucked in. Only he could do it. But he would not have thought that Rose would knock him out to take his place.

He did not know how long he had been unconscious, but he had to hurry before it was too late. He had just reunited with her, after all these centuries without her. He had lost Amy, Rory and River, but Rose had reappeared in his life. She was no longer human. The TARDIS had changed something in her so she could not age anymore and she could not die.

For the first time in years, he was happy. They could finally live together forever. But things had not gone as it should and they were going to be separated again. He arrived at the heart of the ship, where it had to split in two. The door was closed. He tried to open it with his sonic screwdriver, but he could not opened it. Rose must have blocked it. He saw her through the glass of the door and he knocked with all his might.

“Rose !” He shouted. “Rose, open the door !” “No way,” she said, making the final adjustments to the central computer. “You won’t sacrifice yourself.” “Don't worry, I'll find a way to get back. But I'm begging you, open that door.”

Rose approached the glass.

“Promise me you won't stop running. You have to travel, find companions and show them the universe. The universe needs you.”

He did not care about the universe, he thought. All that mattered was getting Rose to safety. She put her hand on the glass and the Doctor imitated her. He begged her to discard the idea. Rose smiled, despite the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“The stars will always lead me to you,” she said.

Without taking her eyes off him, she pointed her sonic screwdriver she had made in Pete's world at the computer and the ship split in two. The Doctor felt helpless. All he could do was watching Rose get sucked in the black hole while the part of the ship he was in drifted away.

After getting the entire crew to safety, the Doctor returned to the TARDIS. Why keep helping the universe, he thought bitterly, when the universe was taking everyone he loved from him.

******

Sakura lay down on the ground and watched the stars. The sky was clear and the stars sparkled brilliantly. She had always liked watching them. They soothed and comforted her. As far as she could remember, the stars had always brought her this feeling of well-being. When she was a child, she wanted to travel across the universe so she could visit distant galaxies. She was convinced that it was possible and she was still convinced of it.

Naruto lay down next to her. Sakura looked at him and smiled. He had had an arm transplant four months ago and he had insisted on going on a mission with Sakura. It was a simple two-day mission, but Sakura was happy to spend time with her best friend.

“Still watching at the stars,” he teased gently. “I find them comforting.” “Do you still believe you can travel to the stars ?”

Sakura laughed lightly and she patted his shoulder. Naruto could not help wincing.

“Stop making fun of me.”

But she was convinced that something was about to change. Something important that could change her life. After returning from the mission, Sakura had the strange feeling that she was drawing to the stars more and more. As if they were calling her. Every day, she felt like her brain was assimilating new knowledge, things she had never learned. At night, she had strange dreams. She dreamed of unknown creatures and distant planets. But some things were recurring. A blue box that was bigger on the inside and a man with different faces. One day, while she was sleeping, the name of that man came to her mind.

“Doctor !” Sakura called waking up suddenly.

She put her head in her hands as a sharp pain ran through her. She had never felt this. It was as if her head was going to explode from too much information. Thousands of images raced through her head. London, Powell Estate, Jacky, Mickey, the Doctor, the TARDIS, Bad Wolf, Pete's world, John, her reunion with the Doctor, the black hole.

Sakura lowered her hands and opened her eyes. She remembered everything. Her name was Rose Tyler and when she was being sucked in the black hole, she had regenerated. It was the only explanation she had. She would never have thought that Bad Wolf could do this. She had landed in Konoha as a baby. The Harunos had found her under the cherry blossoms and had named her Sakura. But unlike the Doctor, she had no memory of her past life until today. Sakura remembered the feeling she had that things were about to change. But she would never have believed in this kind of change.

******

Several weeks had passed and Sakura had only one idea in mind, to find the Doctor. But she had no way to contact him. Ever since she had regained her memory, she had been trying to build a device that might be able to send a signal to the TARDIS. She knew it would be complicated and it would take her time. But she was sure of one thing. No matter how many times they were apart, they would always meet again.

******

The Doctor lowered the throttle, but the TARDIS would not listen and did exactly as she pleased. They were heading to an unknown destination deep in the universe and that worried the Doctor. There was a violent jolt and she fell to the floor. She did not understand what was going on. The TARDIS suddenly stopped and the Doctor walked towards the screen. She opened her eyes wide as she read the instructions. Her hearts were pounding so hard she thought they would explode.

It was impossible. She did a new check and the result was the same. Rose was there. On the other side of the door. She remembered that fateful day when Rose had disappeared. There was no way she survived. But maybe… The Doctor felt hope rise in her. Maybe Rose was still alive. After all, it was not the first time that she thought she would not see her again and Rose miraculously reappeared in her life.

The Doctor only knew that she was in a village called Konoha, on a planet similar to Earth but which was millions of light years from where the black hole had been.

The Doctor ran out of the TARDIS. She was in front of a building that was being demolished. She stepped inside and nearly lost her balance when she felt a violent jolt. She arrived in a completely demolished hallway.

“What happened here ?” She wondered.

The floor shook again and the Doctor saw a figure running towards her. It was a young woman, but it was not Rose. She had pink hair and when she arrived in front of the Doctor, she could see her big green eyes.

“You mustn't stay here,” she said. “Run !”

She took her hand and they ran off. This took the Doctor back several centuries when she met Rose. This girl was not Rose, yet she felt the same warmth and sweetness in her hearts. The Doctor looked behind her and she saw two Cybermen. They left the building and the pink haired let go of her hand. The Doctor felt a void, but she came to her senses when the pink haired hit the ground with her fist and the building collapsed.

“Wow !” The Doctor exclaimed. “Impressive.”

The woman grinned from ear to ear.

“Thanks.”

She looked towards the ruined building.

“I must have miscalculated,” she muttered. “The Cybermen should not have heard my call.”

The Doctor watched her. She had spoken far too softly and she had not understood what she had just said. She did not look like Rose. But she knew it was her. Everything in her knew it was Rose. Maybe she had regenerated. After all, there's still a lot she did not know about Bad Wolf.

“Is everything alright ?” She asked, noticing the Doctor watching her. “Yes, it is.”

The Doctor grinned from ear to ear. Suddenly, another Cyberman came towards them. The Doctor walked over to the building's electrical panel. The electrical wires were down. She ran her sonic over the panel. When the Cyberman would step on the wires, he would be electrocuted, she thought. But they had to leave quickly, it was also dangerous for them.

“Let's go,” the Doctor said.

She took her hand and the girl followed her without asking questions. They entered the TARDIS. The Doctor walked to the dashboard, while her guest looked around.

“It's…” she began. “It's bigger on the inside,” the Doctor continued.

She approached the Doctor, smiling.

“I knew you would hear my call.” “Rose,” the Doctor smiled. “From now on, my name is Sakura.”

Another flower name, the Doctor thought.

“What do you think about it ?” Sakura asked. “Is that a good or bad difference ?” “A good difference,” she answered, she had never been so happy.

Sakura took her hand and squeezed it.

“The stars will always lead me to you.”

This sentence which had caused her so much pain, now made her happy. She took Sakura in her arms and kissed her. She was reunited with her and she did not want to spend a second away from her.

No matter what would happen. Whether her name was Rose or Sakura. She was finally with the Doctor, aboard the TARDIS, forever.

The end

[skylarmoon71]

Eobard Thawne- (Flash) AU Chapter 3

“She just attacked him?”

Joe was being filled in on all that transpired while he was carrying out his mayoral duties.

You were seated in the med bay with a pair of meta cuffs on your hands. After the fight, you hadn’t put up much of a resistance. Not even when Caitlin had vibed your mind to search for some explanation. But with no luck. They were all a little scared right now. Barry played with the ring on his finger, his suit retracted a while ago.

Eobard woke up with a terrible headache, but otherwise okay.

They were all conversing in the cortex as they watched you through the glass doors.

“She seems pretty convinced that I’m the enemy. She said that I killed Barry’s parents. That we’ve been enemies for decades. “

“Crazy isn’t it?” Iris intervenes.

“According to all my tests she’s perfectly healthy. There isn’t anything to indicate that she’s been exposed to foreign agents that could have caused the delusions. Her brain activity is normal.” Iris adds.

The information just leaves them with more questions.

Eobard’s brows are furrowed.

“What if she isn’t hallucinating, what if it’s all real?” His statement draws in all their interests.

“The way she reacted to me, all what she said, it’s almost like she’s lived in an alternate reality. An alternate universe.”

Barry’s eyes widened.

“You don’t mean..”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Dr. Wells used to dominate in this field of science before he retired and decided to teach. I’ve read all of his books and he speculates about other worlds. With all the crazy things we see, would another world be that far fetched. “

Barry shakes his head.

“I guess not. “

They’d been through so many crazy meta and situations, this should be easy.

The ringing of Cisco’s phone pulled his attention. “I have to get back to the precinct.” Cisco states.

“That’s alright, we’ll keep you updated. “

“If anything changes just call me.” Cisco sent one last look in your direction before he was heading out of the cortex.

“I should probably get going.” If the mayor was gone too long of course suspicion would arise.

“Please if anything changes.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Joe looked reluctant to leave. They all understood why.

Now it was just Iris, Barry, Eobard and Caitlin. None of them were sure what course of action was necessary.

“I feel bad for cuffing her.” Iris says looking down at the clipboard in her hand.

“We didn’t exactly have a choice. She was punching the crap out of Eobard.”

“I was letting her win. “ He brushed off. Barry just smirked.

“Whatever you say. Either way, we can’t have her running around beating the crap out of people she thinks are her enemies. I was lucky to grab her when I did. She was moving crazy fast. How is she so powerful so quickly? It took Eobard months to figure out that lightning throw technique. She did it with ease.”

Iris nods.

“That’s another reason why Eobard’s theory might not be so impossible. This is so interesting.” Barry could already tell that Iris was to go full on scientist.

“Alright doctor, before you get pulled in we should all talk to her.”

“Maybe it’s better if Eobard stays outside.” Caitlin intervenes.

“He’ll be fine. She’s cuffed.” Barry waved off. He was already walking in your direction, and they followed behind.

The doors open upon their entrance, closing behind them. Your gaze drifted over lazily. You looked like you were still trying to absorb all the information. For the most part you gave no reaction. But the second Eobard was inside, your body tensed. You straightened in the chair, ready for a fight it would seem.

“Relax, we just want to talk.” Eobard spoke. Your jaw was still clenched.

“The second I’m free I’m going to drive your face into the pavement.” You hissed.

Eobard grimaced at the mental image.

“I must have been an absolute menace for her to hate so much.”

It was a bit disheartening.

“This is worse than when Barry told us he was stuck in that musical.” You grumble. Eobard raises a brow, but doesn’t comment.

“Just so I’m following, in your reality. We’re enemies.”

“Exactly.”

“And you hate me?”

“Detest, abhor!”

Your eyes are not the least bit welcoming. Barry chuckles from the side. Earning a nudge from Caitlin

“Come on you have to admit this is crazy especially since Eobard has a cru-’

“Crucial need to solve this case.” Eobard’s stare moves to Barry, silencing him.

To get to the bottom of this, they needed more answers.

“It’s just so unusual. He’s a hero in this reality, but it sounds like he’s a villain in yours.” Iris says.

Eobard and hero should not be placed in the same sentence.

“I know you think I’m an enemy. There’s nothing I can say that would give you a peace of mine. So why don’t we try to evaluate. Maybe if you tell us the changes in your reality, it might help us understand how you ended up in ours. “

Your expression didn’t change. Not at all. You just sat upright, glare still pointed at Eobard.

“Where I’m from, you’re called the Reverse Flash. You killed Barry’s parents, created the explosion in the particle accelerator which killed Caitlin’s fiance. Tried to kill Barry multiple times. Triggered a second minor particle accelerator explosion that gave me my powers, then tried to kill me. Actually killed Cisco. But because the timelines changed, he survived. Is there anything else you need to know?”

They were startled by the information. The silence was deafening. Barry is the one that broke the clearly tense air.

“Wow, you’re an asshole in her reality, Eobard.” Caitlin smacked his hand, and Iris just sighed at their antics.

“I can’t believe that another version of me is a killer.” Eobard muttered.

You didn’t want to believe that this version was acting so humane.

“This is some trick right. You might have them all confused, but somehow you meddled with the timeline and now you’re playing them all like puppets. I know you Eobard. A hero, that’s laughable. This whole timeline is a joke. You’re a murder. A coward and a disgusting monster!!” You jump out of the chair, and Barry gets between you.

“That’s enough. You need to stop acting like a child.”

Your face falls.

“B-But Barry he-”

“He’s trying to help you. We all are. From the moment you got here you’ve done nothing but act irrationally. You say he’s an enemy in your reality and we believe you. We’re trying to solve this, but we can’t do that if you keep yelling threats at our friend. Eobard is part of this team. This family.”

You couldn’t believe this.

“I-I’m your family…”

“No you’re not. You’re just some version of our friend.”

If it was possible to hear a heart shatter, you were positive they would have all heard it. The minute those words leave his mouth, Barry looks apologetic.

“(Y/N) listen. I didn’t mean it like that it’s just you-”

He touches your shoulder, and you shrug it off. Turning your back, you lift your cuffed hands, climbing onto the bed as you turn your back to them. You lay down, and no one says a word.

“(Y/N).” You don’t respond to Barry’s call.

They all get the message. Iris pulls the cover up to your shoulder.

“I’ll be back with some food.” You can hear their footsteps echo as they exit. Eobard is the last one to turn away and leave.

“I hope you’re happy. You..won..” 

He can practically hear the tears in your tone. Against his better judgment, he turns back in your direction. When the rest of them spot what he’s doing they are about to advise against it.

Eobard slides the key out of his pocket, and takes your wrists gently. He frees you from the cuffs, and you can only stare. The fresh tears on your cheeks. The sight breaks his heart.

“Hit me. If that’ll make you feel better then hit me. There’s not much I can do to convince you that I’m not that evil speedster that you know. So if punching me will elevate even a bit of your pain then I’ll gladly be your punching bag. “ 

He opens his arms.

“Hit me. As many times as you want. I won’t fight back.”

You just stare.

How can this man, blond hair, green eyes hold so much care towards you.

As you look at him, you can’t find it in yourself to attack. He just stands there, waiting.

You just look down at the floor, gripping the edge of the bed. The tears come cascading down before you can stop them. Your shoulders shake, and Eobard’s hands lower as he watches your devastated state.

“I…don’t know what I’m supposed to do..” You cry.

It’s raw and real. You can’t hold back. Because the whole point of this was to spare Barry so he could have a life without Eobard. Maybe you’ve done just that. Maybe Barry and the other’s are off in that other reality surviving. Living life while you’re stuck here where nothing makes sense. You just feel so lost and broken. You are alone here. Just like you’ve been all your life.

Eobard can’t seem to stop himself. He moves closer, and pulls you into a hug. He knows that the outcome of this situation won’t end well. You’ll probably punch him in the gut or smack him around again. But he can’t help it.

“I’ll do everything in my power to help you (Y/N). You’re a part of us. You’re a part of this team. Our family.”

He waits for you to fire some attack, but to his surprise, he receives no resistance. You actually hold on. It could be due to your emotional state. You just bury your face into his chest and break down.

Eobard holds on tight.

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Hideout - Jonathan Crane x!Sister Pt. 3

Author's note; Wishing all the happiest of New Year! Image Credit; Edward Addeo

Summary; Lillian Crane is on the run. Out of luck and out of time, she only has one place left to go. After turning up at her brother's high-rise apartment she hopes to just lie low for a little while. Can Jon help his little sister outrun international authorities, or will the past, present, and future all find their way into her hideout?

When Lillian opened her eyes the following morning she went stiff at the sight of the white blanket that wrapped around her body. For a moment she had forgotten nearly all of the events that had led her to this room the previous night. She squinted through the light peering into through the curtained windows and rolled over, feeling around within the mountain of plush pillows and sheets for her phone. Nearly dead and with no messages of importance she noted the time to be a quarter past 9 a.m. Upon remembering the charging cable stuffed deep into her backpack she swung her legs over the edge of the raised mattress and took her first steps of a new era; fugitive in hiding. 

After nearly tripping on them as she made her way to the door she looked down to find a pair of light pink slippers sitting neatly by the foot of the bed. She took this small detail to confirm that Jon in fact, did seek the companionship of a woman. She laughed and rubbed her face as she entered the hallway. Noise echoed from the kitchen as she made her way down the  hall to see her brother, with his back turned to her, tending to something on the stove. The smell of breakfast sausage and fresh coffee caught her off guard seeing as she hasn’t eaten anything but cheap diner food, frozen meals, and fast food for weeks while dealing with the stress of her new situation. She could hear the soft sounds of the Gotham’s morning news come through the speakers of the small TV that was luxuriously fitted into the walls of the kitchen. She moved closer with a sense of hesitation, though she couldn’t figure out why. Without turning around Jon broke the figurative silence. 

“I made coffee. Cups are above the machine. Use the white ones.”  Lillian cleared her throat and replied, “Thanks.” She, now more quickly after being invited into the space, made her way to the coffee maker and helped herself. Adding just a small spoon of sugar and stirring it in. Just enough to cut the bitterness but not much else. It was another thing that unwillingly bonded the Crane siblings, they both took their coffee black, unless they bothered to put in the extra effort to add just a single serving of sugar, and given the bewildering night they had just experienced, they could be bothered. 

“This is great,” Lillian complemented her brother. It was the best coffee she had drank in a long while. She usually preferred the expensive lattes and drips that her salary afforded her but, like many other things as of late, that preference, unfortunately, wasn’t being accommodated. At first, she felt comfort and nostalgia for the drink found in the Denny’s coffee pot at 2 o’clock in the morning. It reminded her of her days in high school when she would run off with her friends to the outskirts of town. Now, she preferred exhaustion over that filth. 

“I get it from a roaster on 14th,” Jon explained. Since she had entered the room he had only spared a glance at the TV set when the meteorologist to run down the weekend forecast and then returned his gaze to the stove. After taking a seat at the breakfast bar, still talking to her brother’s back, Lillian asked, 

“Don’t you work today?” With no time for contemplation, he said 

“I called and told them I wouldn’t be making it in today.” 

“Why?” She asked only seconds later realizing exactly why he had done so. 

“Why do you think?” The doctor asked sounding as if he was asking a child why they thought a rainbow had spread across the sky just minutes after a thunderstorm. She stayed silent. Guilt filling her and staring down into the dark abyss that she held in her hand. She saw movement where Jonathan stood and she snapped her eyes up to see him holding two plates, both consisting of scrambled eggs, sausage and a piece of wheat toast with a thin coat of jam. Her eyebrows perked up just enough for her brother to notice her understated excitement. He set the plates down over the bar. One in front of Lillian and one in front of the empty seat to her left. Before he could finish retrieving utensils and seating himself in the open chair, Lillian had finished the piece of bread that once rested on her plate and began eyeing her brothers. He set the paper towel and then the fork gently by her right hand before doing the same for himself and finally finding his seat. Lillian took a proper bite of her food and turned to her brother. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly to the side of his face before returning to her meal. He finished his bite and began to pick up his mug when he responded. 

“I had extra.” 

—

The pair had finished their meal and after refilling their coffees, Jon began to load the used cookware into the dishwasher. Lillian didn’t know how to bring up the shampoo or the razors or the slippers she had found since her stay here began but her curiosity ate at her, still surprised at the possibility of her brother, her quiet, stoic, just plain weird bother, could actually have a girlfriend. In what may have been the most complex way of raising the question she stuttered out, 

“What’s her name?” Jonathan slowed to stop what he was doing and turned to look at the girl. His brows furrowed and he ever so slightly cocked his head. 

“What?” He said sharply. 

“The girl you have over,” she continued, “what’s her name?” He stood up straight from his hunched position over the open appliance and his hands, one clutching a dish towel, fell to his sides. 

“What are you talking about?” The same tone as before followed these words out of his mouth. Lillian took in a breath and fixed her eyes on her brother softly as to not annoy him any further. 

“The girly shit in the bathroom, and the slippers. I was just curious. How long have you been seeing her?” She said trying to hide her excitement. He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes in a way only Jonathan Crane could. He turned back to his task and Lillian retuned her look of guilt, yet again, to her coffee. 

“I was just curious, I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she said quietly but before she could finish her sentence her brother spoke with an annoyed huff. 

“There is no woman.” 

“Then why do you have fuckin’ pink razors,” she laughed nervously and continued to drink her coffee. Holding the cup to her face almost felt like a shield from whatever Jon would say to her. 

“I was at the store, and I just got things that I figured you’d need. In case you had to leave them behind.” The room fell silent all but for the TV still lit up above the counter, now it was rolling ads for a local window washing company. Lillian let out a sharp, but relieved breath, through her nose and took another drink. Her small, hushed laughed caused Jonathan looked back at his sister while finishing with the dishes. She looked at him and spoke with the tenacity of a professor asking her students what the true meaning of the universe is. 

“Slippers?” 

—

After minutes of comfortable silence between the two, Lillian remembered her phone charger that sat in her bag still resting by the door. She rose and went to search for it finally retrieving it out of her pack. She might as well take her belongings to her new room soon, since it was apparent she would be here longer than she anticipated. This was supposed to last a few weeks - a month tops - but after her expedited appearance in Gotham, she feared this ordeal would go on much longer. The last she had heard before leaving her apartment was that agents stationed in Germany had found the location of two members of the Black Cobras during a raid. Since learning this, the rest of the small organization had feared that these two may give up the identities and whereabouts of other members. That, in collusion with INTERPOL’s networks already gaining a renewed interest in the group, caused alarm bells to sound and those still free of custody had to take more extreme measures than the originally agreed upon “laying low.” 

Lillian gathered her belongings loosely in her arms and tugged the rest behind her in the suitcase into her bedroom. After a short moment of assessing all that she had brought laid out on the clean white bed, she felt a wave of sadness boil up deep within. She stared into nothing and allowed herself a small moment of regret and longing for the life she had left behind which she in some way hoped to go back. Could she go back? What else did she know? In all, what she had brought from her small apartment nestled on the outer streets of Paris were 3 changes of clothes, her notebook, laptop, the few bottles and jars of bath products that she scooped off of the bathroom counter on her way out, a hair brush, wallet, passport, a few pens and pencils already at the bottom of the old backpack, a few other odds and ends including charging cables, headphones, sticky notes, and a flash drive, and finally, her small stuffed bunny named, well, bunny. She had been given this toy upon her birth from her mother. No matter where the young girl went, even today, the bunny never left her. Through all the running, the hiding, the restless movement, every home Lillian had occupied had also sheltered Bunny. So, when she got the call that one dreadful evening that she needed to evacuate, the first thing she packed, of course, was Bunny. 

After standing and reflecting for just a minute more, she now turned to carefully stack her few lasting toiletries on the dresser beside the bed. Upon moving she took a startled step back when she saw Jonathan standing in the doorframe, silent and watching. 

“Christ. Knock much?” She huffed and returned to her task. Jonathan remained in his place and said in a coldly, 

“I didn’t think I had to knock in my own home.” The girl rolled her eyes and began sifting through her packs once again in hopes of finding anything else she may have missed. Jon took a few steps into the bright room and looked down at his sister. A small change, barley noticeable, came across his face when he examined her. Pity, almost. With an only slightly relaxed tone than before he offered, 

“You can do your laundry down the hall, there is a basket in the closet.” Lillian spared a brief look at him and hummed a short breath in acknowledgment. When she moved to gather the basket that would carry her rain-dampened clothes to the washer, Jon took her spot in front of the bed with her belongings spread out. 

“Is this all you brought?” He asked bluntly. His sister, a much more emotive speaker replied in an offended huff, 

“Yes it is.” Trying to keep her annoyance at bay, she refused to look at him and forcefully shoved her few articles off the bed and into the basket. As she picked up the basket, her brother spoke again, this time in his best attempt at a softened voice, 

“If you need anything, I can take you shopping tomorrow, or I can get it for you. If you didn’t want to go out.” She slowed her movements, frustration falling away from her as quickly as it arose and looked up at her brother’s still stoic, unmoving gaze. Loosening her grip on the plastic basket she nodded shyly returning her gaze to the floor. It pained her ego enough to even show up at her brother’s door, and having to rely on him to get her basic necessities hurt in a way she hasn’t felt since living under her father. Jon stepped forward, not wanting to continue this display of emotion any further and gently placed a hand on the center of Lillian’s back. The touch shocked her and sent a shiver down her spine. Quietly, and as gently as the man could, he said, 

“I’ll show you where the laundry is.” A gentle guidance led Lillian out of the bedroom door. The soft delicate touch never left her until they made it to the machine. 

[treetownconfessions]

htf but i rate them depending on how efficiently theyd give me trans top/bottom surgery

Rating the ones that are rate-able from best to worst.

Sniffles: Good. Registered doctor and surgeon and would probably run by the procedure multiple times in his head to be extra sure he isn't doing anything wrong.

Giggles: Alright. She has been a nurse and has assisted in past surgeries, so she could probably do the whole thing and stitch you up and disinfect you fine afterwards; it may or may not be botched, it's the toss of a coin.

Handy: Unsanitary. The slicing, attaching, and stitching he can do fine, but whether or not it's the image you had in mind, not to mention that he used construction tools there, could give you tetanus.

Lumpy: Not good. The chances that you wake up and it's a jumble of parts down there: or that he’s done an entirely different procedure on you and now your leg is gone, is very likely.

Mime: Questionable. Tells you to close your eyes and he'll perform a magic trick that'll get rid of the parts you want gone: unfortunately, he can't replace them with anything, so now it's just a smooth spot down there and you'll probably die from a UTI later because you can no longer urinate.

Fliqpy: Less-than-ethical. He'll gladly chomp off any bits of your body that you request, but the stitch-up, disinfectant, and everything else is no longer his problem. You'd either die very fast from bleeding out or some kind of infection, but at least it's gone, right?

Splendid: Terrible. He convinces himself and only himself that he can just use his laser eyes to not only slice it off, but instantly cauterize it too, which would in theory fix the stitch and disinfect problem in one. You die instantly.

sounds abt right

[made-ofmemories]

When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 12/18)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, Lumax and Steddie make appearances throughout the chapters but the primary focus is on the familial bonds between characters

Chapter specific warnings/tags: The aftermath of last chapter, mention of blood/ description of injuries, angst, a tiny bit of Steddie if you squint but this one mainly focuses on the familial bonds Eddie has with Wayne and Max

Word count: 3452

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes: So, despite saying we were pretty much done with this fic before posting... it continues to grow. As some of you may have noticed we upped the chapter count from 16 to 17 last week, well now you can expect 18 chapters as this one had to be split into 2.

Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3. Updates every Friday.

Series masterlist

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Max and Steve are directed to a waiting room upon arrival at the hospital. They sit in silence for a while, Steve’s knee bouncing nervously and Max staring down at the beige floor tiles. She’s had enough hospital visits to last her a lifetime, she decides. It’s always the same, bad news accompanied by the smell of disinfectant and fluorescent lights that are just a little too bright. 

She can’t shake the feeling of Andy’s hands wrapped around her arm, holding her in place no matter how much she tried to fight it. Worse than that, she can’t get rid of the image in her mind of Eddie lying there on the floor, bloodied, bruised, and not moving, except sometimes it’s not Eddie at all it’s Billy lying there and suddenly the snowy parking lot morphs into a rural Indiana mall and she finds herself back at Starcourt. 

It’s the sound of a door opening that finally snaps her out of her thoughts. They both look up, expecting a doctor instead they see Wayne. Max stands and Steve follows. She opens her mouth to speak but snaps it closed again when no words come out, she wouldn’t know what to say anyway and she can feel the tears burning at the back of her eyes.

“It’s alright, kid,” Wayne assures her and Max lets herself be pulled into a hug, as much for Wayne’s sake as her own she thinks. She’d never been much of a hugger until she met the Munsons, now she happily wraps her arms around Wayne in return, “It’s gonna be alright.”

Steve steps up next once Max returns to her seat and seemingly finds himself suffering from a similar lack of words. She can’t say she’s surprised, he’d kept his cool earlier, forced back his emotions, and dealt with the situation. It was catching up to him now. 

“Hopper called me,” Wayne explains, breaking the ice between the two of them. Max knows they’ve met before, but as for how close they are she has no idea, “got here as fast as I could.”

“They uh- they haven’t told us anything yet.” Steve says,” They just brought us in here and-” He gestures with one hand to the room around them before bringing the same hand to his face and rubbing at the side of his clenched jaw. 

“I know, come on, sit down.” He places a hand on Steve’s shoulder with a firm pat in a kind of almost hug. Wayne doesn’t seem as comfortable with Steve as he did with Max but he’s trying, Max can see that much, “Hopper told me what you did, I think I owe you a thanks.” 

“It’s ok, Mr.Munson, really.” Steve brushes off the compliment, “I didn’t really do anything, the kids were just as much help as I was.”

“You’ve saved my boy twice now, the least I can do is say thank you.”

Max doesn’t say anything, still can’t quite find the words, but she listens. She wants to tell Steve to take the damn compliment, that he’s more than deserving of it and that Eddie gets his stubbornness from Wayne so it’s a losing battle regardless, but she doesn’t. 

The door opens again and all 3 heads snap in the direction of the doctor walking into the waiting room, she’s wearing scrubs and her hair is slicked back into a neat bun at the back of her head, “Mr. Munson?” She asks.

“That’s me.” Wayne says standing to meet the woman halfway, Max and Steve follow close behind, “How is he?”

“Stable.” She says and Max can see the weight lift from Wayne’s shoulders, “He’s still unconscious right now, he’s suffered a concussion, a lot of bruising but luckily no broken bones. Your nephew is very lucky.” 

Lucky isn’t the word Max would use. Luck wouldn’t get him torn apart by demonic bat creatures from an alternate dimension, it wouldn’t turn an entire town against him for crimes he didn’t even commit and it wouldn’t get him beaten to a pulp by Jason and his idiotic friends. 

“Can we see him?” Wayne asks.

“Of course, this way.” The doctor says, holding the door open for them. Wayne leads the way and Max follows behind him whilst Steve takes up the rear of their group, “I’m sorry, family only.” She adds stepping in front of Steve and cutting him off before he can follow. 

Steve’s about to protest, but Wayne cuts him off before he can make the situation worse, “He is family.” There’s a small smile on Steve’s face when Wayne’s eyes land on him briefly.

The doctor considers it for a moment, her expression matching that of the paramedic earlier, clearly seeing through the lie, but deciding to let it slide anyway when she steps aside with a nod. 

They follow her into a small room with a bed in the middle of it, it’s not dissimilar to the room Max remembers from her own stay in hospital after her run-in with Vecna. It’s silent except for the steady beeping of a heart monitor. Eddie’s sleeping form occupies the bed, his back is propped up by pillows leaving him in a half-sitting position. The blood has been cleaned from his face and his t-shirt and jeans have been replaced by a hospital gown.

Max rushes to his side, Steve close behind her, whilst Wayne stays back to talk with the doctor, asking her for more specific information about Eddie's state. Max tunes it out for the most part, the majority of it is medical stuff she doesn’t understand anyway.

The 3 of them stay there until long after the sun has set, seated by Eddie's side in uncomfortable plastic chairs. Wayne has questions about what happened that Steve and Max do their best to answer. If the clenched fist and tense jaw is anything to go by Max would say it’s lucky for Jason that it was Steve and the others who found them and not Wayne, or maybe it was unlucky, depending on the perspective. They don’t talk much after that until Hopper shows up to take statements and baring the good news of 3 arrests.

“Alright, that’s all I need for now.” Hopper says walking back into Eddie's temporary room, Steve trailing behind before returning to his seat by Eddie’s side, “Can’t keep them for more than a night if their parents pay the bail, but I’ll keep an eye on them until Eddie wakes up. He’ll need to come down to the station when he’s able. Considering the injuries he sustained the best he can do for now is file a criminal complaint.”

“And what happens then?” Wayne asks.

“Best case scenario? Jason gets some jail time and a restraining order. The other two will probably get let off with a fine.”  

“I see. Thank you, Jim.”

“No problem.” Hopper says, before gesturing with a hand for Max to stand up from her chair. “Alright, c'mon kid.”

“What? I already told you everything.” Max says confused.

“I spoke to your mom, let her know what was happening.” He explains, “Told her I’d make sure you got home safe.”

“I’m not leaving.” She says firmly and Hopper drags the palm of his hand over his face with a sigh, she gets the impression it’s been a long day.

“I can’t just leave you here.”

“It’s ok.” Wayne chimes in, leaning forward with a hand on Max’s shoulder, “I’ll be here all night anyway. I’ll talk to her mom, make sure she gets home safe.”

Hopper doesn’t argue any further, just nods in agreement, “Let me know when he wakes up.” He says over his shoulder on his way out.

 ----------

Eddie wakes in the early hours of the following morning. The throbbing pain in his skull is the first thing he notices, followed by a soreness in the middle of his face and the weight of a hand atop his own which he is able to make out as Waynes once he peels his eyes open enough to see his surroundings. His vision is still blurred, but he’s able to make out 2 other figures in the room, Max and Steve slumped against each other asleep. Wayne is asleep too, his head lolled back in what looks to be a very uncomfortable position, but his eyes shoot open when Eddie squeezes his hand with what little strength he can find.

“Eddie?” His uncle says in disbelief, still groggy from whatever little rest he’d been able to get.

“What happened?” He asks, his memory is foggy and he doesn’t remember much beyond leaving work at the end of his shift, “Didn’t get eaten by bats again did I?” It’s an attempt at a joke, but it doesn’t come out the way he wants it to, his voice dry and scratchy from lack of use. Wayne doesn’t seem to find it funny either.

“I’m goin’ to ignore that.” uff, his uncle’s accent is slipping, he must be really tired.

“Yes, please.”

“To make it short, that Carver boy and his friends roughed you up pretty bad, son. You’re in the hospital.”

“Fuck, how’s Max?” He says in a rush. Max had been with him. He remembers that much, she'd gone to work with him that morning, “Did they hurt her?”

“No, her shoulder is a little sore but she’ll be fine.”

“Good, good, that’s good,” Eddie says with a grimace.

“You okay, son?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a headache.” He squeezes his eye’s shut, his left one is still so swollen it was barely open in the first place, hoping the relief from the bright hospital lights will do something for the pain, “The worst headache I’ve ever had.”

“Here, one of the nurses left some water and painkillers in case you woke up.”

“Thanks.” He says taking the small plastic cup with the pills and the cup of water when Wayne offers them. It hurt to move his arm, but it was bearable enough.

“Hopper was here last night, he got all three of ‘em but won’t be able to keep them for long. He suggested that we file a complaint and once we get a hearing, ask for a restraining order.”

“But, then we’d need a lawyer. Lawyers are expensive.”

“We have the money from what happened in spring.”

“Yeah, and we said it was for emergencies only.”

“I think this would classify as an emergency,” Wayne says as if it’s obvious and after a few more seconds of thought Eddie realizes maybe he has a point, but there are still issues with the whole thing.

“The Carvers have money, they’re just going to get better lawyers or buy the judge and find a way to turn this whole thing against me!” 

He’s scared. Half the town still hates him, what’re they going to think when he gets their golden boy arrested and taken to court? He never should have stayed in Hawkins, but he can’t ask Wayne to leave his home, and leaving him behind isn’t an option. Not to mention the sleeping figures on the other side of the room are two more reasons to stay. 

“Eddie, this can’t happen again!” Wayne whispers harshly, mindful of Max and Steve who are still sleeping. “This time it was a concussion, a broken nose, and some bruises, What’s it goin’ to be next, Huh? I’ll get a call sayin’ he got you alone? I’ll end up arranging a funeral?” Wayne sighs heavily, rubbing his temples with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “If we have a chance of at least getting a restraining order we need to take it. It might be a piece of paper, but then he’ll know that if he breaches it his future would be done for.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, and in that moment Eddie can see just how worried Wayne had been for him. While impossible to forget, he sometimes took for granted the fact that his uncle raised him as his own, loves him beyond the familial tie of Eddie being his brother’s kid.

“Okay.” He says, so quiet that if Wayne hadn’t been sitting so close he probably wouldn’t catch it.

“Thank you. Now, go back to sleep, doc said you need to rest and to avoid straining your brain too much, whatever that means. We’ll be here when you wake up.” Wayne says with a strained smile, taking Eddie’s hand back into his and softly patting it with his free one.

The next time he wakes up is to a room full of gremlins talking over each other. His head still hurts, less than before but the pain is there. He can feel something across the bridge of his nose and he frowns, raising his hand to touch the splint, he hadn’t noticed it before.

“I told you to keep it down, twerps. Look what you did, you woke him up.” 

He finally cracks his eyes open when he hears Steve’s scolding. Wayne isn’t there, but Max, Lucas, Will, El, Dustin, and Mike are standing scattered around the room. He briefly wonders just how long it’d taken Steve to charm the nurse into letting all of them in at once. Between Steve, Wayne, and Max they were already breaking the 2 visitors at a time rule most days. 

“How’re you feeling?” Steve asks, gently helping him shuffle up the bed into a more upright position. 

“Like I got hit by a truck.”

“Try an asshole,” Mike mutters. It earns him some stern glares from the others.

“What the hell man?” Lucas whisper-yells.

“What? It’s true!” 

“At least this asshole didn’t rip off my nipple.” He jokes, but when he says it he realizes he doesn’t actually know that for sure, “Right?” He gets a couple of weird stares from Dustin and Mike, but no one answers him which leaves him frantically pulling at the collar of the hospital gown and sighing in relief when he sees his right nipple intact. “Thank god it’s still there!”

“Gross dude, what would they even want with your nipple?”

“You never know Henderson. Besides, it’s the only nipple I have left, gotta take care of it.”

“Now that you’ve checked that your precious nipple is still there,” Steve says, rolling a small table with a tray on top over to him, “you need to eat something before taking your meds.”

“Hospital food sucks.” He complains, picking through the assortment of prepackaged food presented to him, a sandwich, a bag of pre-cut fruit, and- “At least there’s jello.” He picks up the little cup, probably the best thing he’s going to get in this place, “Hey, where’s Wayne?” He asks between mouthfuls.

“He went to get some coffee, said he had some calls to make. Something about asking for days off at work and I think he was going to notify your boss too.”

Eddie nods around another mouthful of jello and then his attention turns to Dustin who has taken a seat on the end of the bed.

“I told the rest of Hellfire that you were here, they said they would come by later today.” 

“Thanks man, I was going to ask Wayne to tell them. We had band practice today.” 

The teens stay as long as they can, chattering away the entire time, they just seem to be glad he’s going to be ok. He’s discussing DnD campaigns with Will and Dustin when the nurse comes in to usher everyone out. 

“Alright people, your 20 minutes are up. Go on, say your goodbyes, I want the 5 of you out before the doctor gets here.” She seems nice, Eddie doubts Steve had to do much convincing after all, “And if you come back to visit your friend, please do so in pairs, three people at most or you’re going to get me into trouble.” She adds with a soft smile whilst holding the door open.

Dustin and Will are the first to hug him, both squeezing so hard it makes his already delicate ribs hurt. Lucas is next and much gentler followed by El who he suspects is holding back purposefully so as not to hurt him. Mike is last, just offering a little wave until Dustin nudges him and the pair of them share a short back-and-forth of facial expressions, the silent conversation eventually ends in Eddie receiving an awkward one-armed hug which makes him laugh. Mike has never been the most outwardly affectionate towards his friends, Eddie appreciates the effort.

Steve leaves too with the promise of returning after his shift, Robin could only cover for him for so long. Besides, someone had to drive the little twerps home and Hopper had been kind enough to drop off Steve’s car earlier.

He’s left alone in the room with Max for the first time since waking up, he noticed before that out of all of them she had been the quietest. It’s not right, he doesn’t like it.

“Hey, Red. Want some jello before I finish it?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done.” He nods with wide-eyed innocence despite Max’s clear annoyance.

“You’re unbelievable! That’s the first thing you say to me?” She asks and Eddie keeps quiet, suspecting she doesn’t actually want an answer, “He beat you to a pulp and-”

“Whoa, that’s a bit too much, I’m still in one piece.”

“Barely! He beat you, Eddie! And he wouldn’t stop, and then, and then you were on the floor and you were so still I couldn’t even tell if you were breathing!” He sees her trying to blink her tears away, but it only makes them roll down her face. “What if- What if Steve and the others hadn’t arrived when they did to scare them off? What then!? What if he hadn’t stopped?”

“Hey, hey come here.” He leaves the jello and spoon on the table and pushes it away, he opens his arms and gestures for her to climb on the bed beside him, she does so being mindful of his bruises, the IV on his hand, and his nose when she tucks her face on his shoulder. “There we go.” He’s drawing imaginary circles on her back with his hand, just like his mother, and later Wayne, used to do for him when he was upset, to try and bring her some comfort.

“If only I could have- Why do I have to be so useless at helping the people I care about?”

“Hey now, that’s my sister you’re insulting.” That earns him a sniffle which sounds something like a laugh, “Besides, I wasn’t much better. I couldn’t save us an-”

“Are you kidding? It’s not your fault, Jason had you!” She breaks away from the hug so she can look at him properly and swipes the tears from her eyes in the process. 

“And it’s not yours either, Andy grabbed you too.”

“But you told me to run, maybe if I had listened to you I could have called Hopper sooner and you wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed.”

“Maybe, but the past is the past, Red. And you did plenty, you’re so fucking brave that it scares me, kid.” His voice wobbles just a little bit, but he manages to get it back under control before he continues, “But seriously, next time-”

“Like hell  will there be a next time.”

“Listen, if we ever find ourselves in a similar situation and I tell you to run, you run, you run like hell and try to get help, okay?”

 “I can’t promise you that I will.”

“Red… Max, I know you’re tough, but some things are beyond you and me, at least promise that you’ll first consider the situation before rushing in like a knight.”

“Okay.”

“I know most of the time it feels like it’s just you and me, but guess what? We’re not alone, we have people that care, that will have our backs when we need them. And we can ask for help whenever we need it. Took me a while to realize it, but it’s true.”

“Okay.” She repeats, her voice steadier and the tears starting to dry.

Wayne finds them there a half an hour later, once everything is dealt with. Max is curled up on the edge of the bed and both of them are fast asleep. Eddie’s meal and medication lie forgotten on the wheeled table by his feet and he moves it before either of them can accidentally kick it.  He grabs the extra bed sheet folded by the end of the bed to cover Max with it and decides to just let them sleep.