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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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loml — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

Satoru, leaning back with a gentle sigh, broke the silence. "I think... I’ve fallen in love with them." he confessed, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. He looked at Suguru. “Gen–senpai.” Suguru turned his head slightly, his dark purple eyes finding Satoru’s, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. He didn’t speak right away, but then, slowly, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. He smiled against his shoulder. “Yeah… I have too.”

WARNING/S: pre-hidden inventory arc, post hidden inventory arc, domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 12.5k words.

NOTE: i ended up thinking about this for a while. i think i wanted something that's satosugu focused that is related to the main story of us and them. and i think it was way more perfect like this. i think that's just how it is with stories in between us and them coded, you know??? anyway, i hope you enjoy it anyway. i just wanted to get it off my mind!!!! i love you all, see you in the next story <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU WERE READY. The air around you crackled with cursed energy, thick and oppressive as it swirled between the high-rise buildings of Tokyo. The cursed spirit looming before you was grotesque, a monstrous thing with far too many eyes and limbs jutting out at unnatural angles. Its twisted form made your skin crawl, its movements erratic as it lashed out, causing havoc in the streets.

You shifted your stance, preparing for the next strike, your eyes scanning the chaos around you. Despite the carnage, your focus wasn’t just on the spirit. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted someone standing a few feet away.

He looked… off. His usually neat, smooth hair was fraying at the ends, loose strands sticking out from the messy bun he usually wore. His dark blue Jujutsu uniform was tattered and streaked with dirt, his face marked with fatigue. There was a haunted, weary look in his eyes.

He wasn’t his usual self, that much was clear. The "I've been through some stuff" energy radiated from him like a second skin. You could see the wear of battle etched into his features, the faint tremor in his hands as he stood, catching his breath. This wasn’t someone you remembered.

Ah, he was a first year student.

"Alright, first year." you called out, adjusting your grip on your yari spear. "Looks like I’ll finish this off."

You lunged forward, aiming for the cursed spirit’s core, when—

"Wait! Stop! " Suguru suddenly yelled, nearly tripping over himself to get in front of you, arms flailing.

You skidded to a stop just before the spear tip met cursed flesh. Blinking in confusion, you watched as the first year frantically gestured for you to back off. "I have to consume it."

"...Consume it?"

"Yeah." He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's kinda my thing."

You stared at him. This guy was the new first-year? Your kouhai? "Alright... I guess that’s something." You lowered your spear reluctantly, watching the younger boy as he took a deep breath, about to do his curse-consumption thing.

Before he could make a move, though, a familiar voice echoed from behind. "Uncool, Suguru. So uncool."

You didn’t even need to turn to know who it was. Gojo Satoru, in all his flashy glory, strolled into view. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his sunglasses sitting lazily on his face, and a smirk that screamed I-know-everything-better-than-you plastered across his features. Ah, this one you remembered too well.

The younger boy, Suguru, groaned, his expression dropping faster than the cursed spirit could regenerate its limbs. "Satoru, not now."

"Oh no, now's the perfect time!" Gojo said, waving dramatically. "Imagine it! Big, heroic finish, and then boom! You, standing there... eating the curse? So uncool, dude. Eat it later!"

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not like I have a choice. It’s literally my technique."

"Yeah, but couldn’t you, like, exorcise it or something first? Make it cooler?" Gojo shrugged, shooting you a thumbs-up like you were both in on some inside joke. "You get what I mean, right?"

You glanced at Suguru, then at Gojo, back at Suguru—who, despite his calm demeanor, looked like he wanted to punch Gojo in his perfect teeth. "Uh, sure." you offered, trying not to laugh. "You could at least add some flair to it?"

"See?" Gojo said triumphantly. "The senpai agrees with me!"

Suguru groaned louder this time, side-eyeing you with an "I-can't-believe-this" look. "You’re not helping."

"Just saying!" Gojo continued, "if I were you, I'd finish it with style. Maybe spin around, give a little dramatic speech, then eat the curse."

Suguru ignored him, clearly over the theatrics, and raised his hand, muttering something under his breath. The cursed spirit let out one final, unsettling screech before being sucked into his palm in an anticlimactic puff.

"See?" Gojo chimed in again, arms spread wide. "Boring."

"Shut. Up." Suguru shot back, though his face was starting to crack into a small smile despite himself.

You couldn't help it anymore—you burst out snickered. "You two are something else."

Gojo grinned, basking in the chaos he’d created, while Suguru shook his head, walking off with a quiet sigh, muttering about how he "should’ve stayed home today."

"Hey, wait up!" Gojo yelled after him. "Let’s grab ramen! You can cry into your bowl about how uncool you are!"

You glanced at your yari, wondering why you ever thought cursed spirits were the hardest thing to deal with today.

THIS WASN’T THE USUAL WAY YOU WOULD BE HERE. You usually ate alone. So it was quite a surprise from the ramen house that you asked for a table of four. The familiar scent of ramen wafted through the small shop, warm and inviting as you took your usual seat near the window.

It had been a long day, but the evening promised something interesting—meeting the new first-year students of Tokyo Jujutsu High. Special-grade sorcerers, at that. You had already been briefed that they were joining the ranks alongside you and Yuki Tsukumo, which was a rarity in itself. It was only fitting to see who these up-and-coming powerhouses were. You called Yuki about it and she raved about wanting to see you more than the younger ones. But you supposed it's just because she missed you.

You heard them before you saw them.

"I’m telling you, you don’t need to use that technique so recklessly!" came a voice that could only belong to someone with zero filter—Gojo Satoru, if you remembered correctly.

"And I’m telling you, you don’t need to be so reckless in general." another voice retorted—Geto Suguru, calm but undeniably exasperated.

The door swung open, and in they came. Gojo Satoru, all energy and loud confidence, sauntered in first with that infamous swagger, followed closely by Geto Suguru, who looked as though he'd spent the entire walk here contemplating how to silence Gojo for good. Behind them was Ieiri Shoko, who was a bit quiet and composed, giving them both the same look you often gave people who were trying too hard. They had gone back to their accommodation and changed clothes first.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Watching Gojo and Geto bicker reminded you so much of Namie and Kaiko. The way they would argue over the smallest details, turning even a simple walk into a battlefield of egos, was something you had long learned to endure. And here they were, in front of you, a new generation—but the dynamic was eerily familiar.

Shoko, on the other hand, seemed calm in the storm, much like yourself. She had that air of detachment, a stillness that balanced out the chaos around her. For a brief moment, you wondered if these three would get along with Namie and Kaiko. Gojo and Geto certainly matched their energy, and Shoko would probably enjoy some quiet conversation amidst the madness. The thought brought a small smile to your face.

“Oi, senpai!” Gojo’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He had already claimed the seat next to you, throwing an arm over the back of his chair like he owned the place. “We’re not late, are we? You didn’t order without us, right?”

Geto frowned. “Satoru, that’s rude! You shouldn’t be so informal with Zenin–senpai!”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry. You also don’t have to call me Zenin–senpai.”

“Then….”

“Just use Gen–senpai. Or whatever. I don’t really particularly care about hierarchy.”

Gojo grinned. “Then can I call you Gen, then?”

“Feel free.” You tell him, with a small smile.

“Aha! Then I will!”

“You also aren’t late, don’t worry.” you replied, holding back a chuckle. “And I was just thinking how the three of you remind me of some old friends.”

“Oh? I’m flattered.” Gojo leaned back, grinning smugly. “Must’ve been quite the group if they were anything like me.”

Geto rolled his eyes as he took the seat across from you. “I’m guessing they were probably nothing like you, Satoru.”

“See?” You chuckled, glancing between the two of them. Suguru noticed a small sliver of sadness in your eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean. You remind me of them too well.”

Gojo’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh, they sound like fun. Were they good-looking? Maybe I’ve got some competition.”

“Yeah.” you deadpanned for a bit. “Well….except they didn’t spend their entire day thinking about how cool they were.”

Suguru snorted at that, and even Shoko cracked a tiny smile as she took her seat.

“So, how’s it feel being special-grade sorcerers?” you asked, steering the conversation back on track, looking at Suguru and Satoru.

“Amazing!” Gojo replied without hesitation, flipping his sunglasses up to rest on his head. “But that’s just my natural state.”

Geto shot him a sideways glance. “Humility was never an option, was it?”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. 'I-can-consume-anything.’” Gojo grinned, waggling his fingers in mock imitation of Geto’s technique.

Shoko sighed, taking a slow sip of water. “It’s like babysitting.”

You smiled again, a strange warmth settling in your chest. These three were so young, and yet there was already something special about them—a camaraderie that, despite the constant bickering, spoke of deep bonds being forged. You could see them going far, together, just as you and your friends once had.

For a brief moment, the thought of Namie and Kaiko sitting around this very table, throwing playful jabs at each other, floated through your mind. You could almost hear their laughter mixing with the voices of Gojo, Geto, and Shoko. It was a fleeting but comforting image.

“They’d like you, I think.” you said softly, more to yourself than to anyone else.

“Huh? Who would?” Gojo asked, eyebrows raised.

“Old friends, the ones I was talking about.” you replied with a shrug, letting the nostalgia slip away. “You remind me of them. And I think you three would get along well.”

Suguru tilted his head slightly, catching the faint note of wistfulness in your voice, but didn’t press further. Gojo, of course, was already distracted by the arrival of his ramen, declaring it to be “the best in Tokyo, hands down!”

As the bowls of ramen arrived and the conversation continued, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. You had a feeling that these three would bring a whirlwind of change—just like the generation before them. And as chaotic as they seemed now, you knew they had something special, something that would take them far.

It was going to be an interesting journey ahead.

The steaming bowls of ramen were placed in front of each of you, and for a brief moment, the chatter paused as everyone seemed to savor the smell. You watched as Gojo Satoru practically dove into his bowl, using his chopsticks with a level of enthusiasm that was almost theatrical.

Geto Suguru, on the other hand, ate calmly, every movement deliberate, as though he were analyzing the flavors. Ieiri Shoko picked at hers lazily, more interested in observing the antics of her companions than actually eating. You couldn’t eat that much, you weren’t that hungry.

"Best in Tokyo, hands down!" Gojo proclaimed between slurps, noodles half-hanging from his mouth. "You really know your spots, Gen."

“Satoru, call them senpai, Gen–senpai.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Huh, what do you mean, nuh–uh?”

You smirked, taking a more modest sip of your broth. "I’ve been around. Knew you’d appreciate this place, though."

Geto raised an eyebrow, still focused on his bowl. "Appreciate it? I’m surprised he hasn’t asked to marry the chef yet."

Gojo leaned back, wiping his mouth with a dramatic flourish. "Who says I haven’t? Ramen this good deserves a lifelong commitment."

Shoko let out a quiet snort, her lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. "Pretty sure you wouldn’t last a week in a marriage. Too many noodle-related distractions."

"Hey, I’m capable of multi-tasking, Shoko." Gojo shot back, wagging his chopsticks in Shoko’s direction. "I could juggle ramen and romance. Watch me."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Watching the way they interacted, their personalities bouncing off each other like well-practiced banter, it was clear that, despite the joking and teasing, there was a connection here. Something deeper than the surface-level bickering. The kind of bond that would only strengthen over time.

Geto finished his bowl and set his chopsticks down with a soft sigh. "You’re ridiculous, Satoru."

"Ridiculously awesome, you mean." Gojo corrected, leaning back with a satisfied grin, clearly proud of himself.

"You know….." you started, leaning back in your chair as well. "It's good to see this. You three, I mean."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, now curious. "Good to see us?"

"Yeah." You nodded, glancing between the three of them. "Special-grade sorcerers, the strongest of your generation, yet here you are, acting like normal students. It’s nice to see the kids in you still be kids. It pleases me.”

Geto smiled, a little softer now. "We’re not always this... chaotic. Just when Satoru’s around."

Gojo held up a hand in mock protest. "I’m not the chaotic one! You guys are just too boring to keep up."

"Right, right…." Shoko muttered, taking another sip of her water. "Because you’re the epitome of normalcy."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Trust me, I’ve seen worse. But seeing you three like this reminds me of the old days. Back when my friends and I thought we were invincible too."

There was a brief pause, a fleeting moment of introspection that settled over the table. Gojo tilted his head, his usual playful expression giving way to something a bit more thoughtful. "Were you?"

"In a way, yeah," you admitted. "Or at least, we thought we were. Until….." You stopped.

Suguru’s gaze sharpened slightly, as if he understood where the conversation was heading. "You lost someone, didn’t you?"

You nodded, feeling the weight of those memories resurface. "We all did, eventually. It’s part of this life."

Gojo looked unusually quiet now, his chopsticks twirling between his fingers. "But you kept going, huh?"

"Had to. Have to." you replied with a faint smile. "Just like you will."

The heaviness lingered for a second longer before Gojo, in typical fashion, broke the silence. "Well, we’re not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m too good-looking to die young, you know?"

Suguru rolled his eyes, and Shoko’s deadpan expression returned. "That’s one way to look at it."

"Hey, I’m just keeping things light, Suguru!" Gojo grinned, his usual cockiness back in full force. "Besides, I’ve got big plans. No way am I letting a cursed spirit mess up this face."

You laughed, but the truth of the matter was still clear. These three—Gojo, Geto, and Ieiri—were in for a long road ahead. And even though they didn’t fully grasp it yet, they would one day understand the weight of their roles as sorcerers. They would carry their own losses, just as you and Yuki had. But for now, it was good to see them like this, carefree, in the moment, enjoying a simple bowl of ramen without the looming threat of the world crashing down on them.

As the meal wound down, the conversation drifted back into lighter territory. Gojo made exaggerated claims about his future as the “greatest sorcerer ever.” Suguru countered with dry remarks, and Shoko threw in the occasional sarcastic comment that kept them both in check.

You paid the bill and stood up, stretching your arms as you prepared to leave. "Well, I’ll see you all soon." you said, nodding toward the three of them. "Try not to kill each other before then."

"No promises, Gen!" Gojo grinned, already halfway out the door, Suguru groaning in tow.

Shoko offered you a small wave as she followed them out, her calm demeanor as steady as ever.

Watching them go, you couldn't help but smile again. They were a lot like you and your old friends once were—full of potential, full of life. You only hoped they’d find a way to hold onto that as long as they could.

And for a brief moment, you found yourself thinking, Yeah, they would’ve gotten along just fine.

HE WONDERS WHO YOU TRULY WERE. Suguru Geto had heard whispers about you long before he ever saw your face. The rumors circled like an ever-present breeze, spoken in quiet tones by those who thought no one was listening.

His father, who worked as a window for your mother’s family, often mentioned you in passing—a name that carried weight, history, and an air of mystery.

The whispers painted a picture of someone who was more than just another sorcerer. You were part of an ancient clan, one of those distant, elusive families that even the higher-ups at Jujutsu High regarded with a level of reverence. And yet, despite the importance of your lineage, there was something different about you.

When Gojo Satoru spoke of you, it was always with a casual fondness, even if he had just met you the other day. It didn’t take Suguru long to piece together why. You and Satoru were very distant relatives, after all.

And your life was always going to be a part of that tangled web of sorcerer families that had been interwoven for centuries. But Satoru’s interest in you wasn’t just out of obligation, Suguru knew that much was obvious.

There was something else there. Something about the way his normally cocky tone softened whenever your name came up, even if only slightly. He was interested in you, Suguru knows. Satoru thinks it's because you were just that good of a sorcerer.

And your father being Zenin Naoki, it was a big deal. If they saw more of your technique, then Satoru would end up raving about it. But you weren’t around as much to show it. And with how good you were with cursed tools, Suguru doubted you ever needed to use your cursed technique.

Suguru had been curious, of course. How could he not be? Special-grade sorcerers weren’t exactly common, and from the rumors he had heard, you were even more active in the field than Yuki Tsukumo herself. That alone was enough to make anyone stand out. But it wasn’t just your power—it was the sheer volume of reports that came in after every mission you completed.

From the bustling streets of Tokyo to the more traditional grounds of Kyoto Jujutsu High, your name seemed to pop up everywhere. And not in small ways, either. The curses you dealt with were of a caliber that even seasoned sorcerers hesitated to face. Yet you faced them head-on, time and time again.

Suguru leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the ceiling of his dorm room as he thought about it. He had never met someone so relentlessly active in the field. It was like you didn’t know how to slow down. Missions from one end of the country to the other, reports coming in almost daily… Did you even sleep?

He frowned, the thought lingering in his mind. Even Tsukumo Yuki, at least what people whispered about her, as restless as she was, had her quiet moments of reflection, her times of retreat from the world. But you?

He hadn't even met you properly yet, but it was starting to feel like you were some kind of living legend, the sort of person who operated on a different plane of existence entirely.

“You think too much, Suguru!” came Satoru’s voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. Gojo was lounging on the bed across the room, balancing a ball of cursed energy on the tip of his finger, a bored expression on his face.

“Am I?” Suguru shot back, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yeah, you’re always brooding.” Satoru replied, letting the ball of cursed energy dissipate. “You’ve been thinking about them, haven’t you?”

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "Them?"

Satoru grinned, almost like he was amused by the very thought. “You know, them. The one everyone keeps talking about. My oh-so-talented distant distant distant distant distant distant relative.”

Suguru crossed his arms, his curiosity now fully piqued. “I’ve heard the stories, sure. But it’s hard to believe someone is that active without collapsing from exhaustion at some point.”

Satoru laughed, loud and carefree. “Yeah, I’ve thought that too! But I saw them in action the other day. It’s wild. They’ve got this… I don’t know, this energy. Like they’re always moving, always thinking five steps ahead. It’s kinda scary, honestly.”

Suguru frowned, thinking back to the rumors. “I’ve seen the mission reports. They’re everywhere—Tokyo, Kyoto, even some out in the countryside. You’d think they’d take a break at some point.”

“Maybe they’re just a robot, you know?” Satoru said, half-joking. “A cursed spirit-fighting machine, programmed to never sleep.”

“Doubtful.” Suguru muttered, though the mental image was amusing. “But it’s strange. There’s something more to it. They’re not likeTsukumo–senpai, you know? Tsukumo–senpai’s off on her own things half the time, but you can tell she’s always thinking, always observing. From what I’ve heard, Gen–senpai just… goes. Like they’re on autopilot.”

Satoru shrugged, not seeming too concerned. “Eh, maybe it’s just their style. You’ll know more about them soon enough. Besides…..” he added with a teasing grin. “Gen–Senpai’s probably just like that. They’re probably just that good, like me!”

Suguru rolled his eyes. "That's not exactly comforting."

“You worry too much, Suguru. If they’re handling all these missions, that’s a good thing. It means less work for us.” Satoru shot him a thumbs up, clearly pleased with this logic.

Suguru sighed, glancing out the window. The sun was setting, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Somewhere out there, you were probably on another mission, dealing with a curse that would make most sorcerers hesitate. And here he was, wondering just what kind of person could keep that pace up without burning out.

“I just hope they know when to slow down.” Suguru muttered, almost to himself.

Satoru smirked, catching the comment. “I’m sure that Gen–senpai knows to pace themselves. They’re more senior than us, you know? Trust the process!”

HE COULDN’T SLEEP. The cold mountain air greeted Suguru as he entered the small convenience store tucked away in the hills. He had been on a mission with Satoru and Shoko, but after hours of trekking through the wilderness and dealing with a minor cursed spirit, his stomach had started to complain loudly. As he wandered the aisles, looking for something that could pass for a meal, he caught a glimpse of someone familiar.

It was you.

Standing near the refrigerated section, you were calmly perusing the drinks. Suguru blinked, a bit surprised, but then it made sense. You were always on the move, tackling missions in places most sorcerers wouldn’t bother with. This isolated mountain range seemed right up your alley.

He offered a nod of acknowledgment, and you returned it, your expression neutral but not unfriendly. Suguru didn’t expect much conversation—after all, you were both here on business—but as he grabbed a rice ball and some instant noodles, he found himself wandering closer to where you stood.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Gen–senpai." Suguru said casually, placing his items in his basket. “Thought you’d be halfway across the country, based on the reports I’ve seen.”

You gave a small, almost imperceptible smile as you grabbed a bottle of green tea. “I was asked by a nearby temple to help strengthen their barrier defenses.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. “A temple, huh? So even the local monks know who to call when things get tough?”

You shrugged lightly, as if it were no big deal. “It’s a small place, but they’ve had problems with cursed spirits slipping through their wards recently. I figured I’d take care of it.”

“Sounds like a fun assignment.” Suguru smirked, grabbing a few more snacks from the shelf. "How long have you been here?"

“Just a couple of days.” you replied, your tone calm, as though discussing something routine. “Should be done by tomorrow.”

Suguru glanced at you, curious. “And after that? Another mission?”

You paused for a moment, as if considering your answer. “Most likely. There’s always something else.”

Suguru chuckled. “You really don’t stop, do you?”

“Neither do you, don’t you?” you countered, meeting his gaze with a knowing look. You smiled. “I blinked and suddenly a second year.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. You had a point. "True, but I’m not out here fixing temple barriers in the middle of nowhere."

You tilted your head, a faint flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Someone has to.”

Suguru nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind your words. The life of a sorcerer wasn’t exactly predictable, and while you handled more than your fair share of missions, you did it because you knew it was necessary.

“Well, if you ever need a break, we’re staying nearby. Satoru’s probably driving Shoko crazy by now. Seeing you would probably save her.” Suguru said with a grin, imagining his two teammates bickering back at their base.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you said, though it was hard to tell whether you were serious or just humoring him. “If I finish fast, then I’ll contact you.”

Suguru gave a slight wave as he made his way to the checkout, his basket filled with enough food to get him through the night. As he left the store, he glanced back at you one more time. You were always moving, always working.

He wondered if you ever let yourself take a moment to breathe, but somehow, he doubted it. Still, for now, you were just two sorcerers in a convenience store, sharing a quiet moment amidst the chaos of your lives.

Suguru stood by the checkout counter, glancing at you with an expression somewhere between disbelief and confusion. He was sure you had a mission scheduled far from this remote mountain village. There had been reports—he knew the kind. It seemed like you were constantly juggling assignments from all over the country.

“You’re supposed to be somewhere else, right?” Suguru asked as you both placed your items on the counter.

“I know.” you replied, unfazed. “But I won't turn down a job.” Your tone was as steady as always, like this was just another day for you.

Suguru shook his head slightly, half impressed, half exasperated. You were relentless, never one to back down from work. He had heard plenty about how you balanced multiple missions in different regions. But there was something different about seeing it up close.

As the cashier rang up your items, Suguru reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. But before he could hand over any cash, you placed a hand on his wrist and shook your head.

“Put it away, Geto–kun.” you said with a small, amused smile. “I can’t let a kouhai pay for things.”

Suguru blinked, slightly taken aback but not entirely surprised. You had an air of authority about you, not just in your skills but in how you carried yourself. He sighed, reluctantly slipping his wallet back into his coat.

“You sure?” he asked, though he already knew what your answer would be.

“I’m sure.” you replied smoothly as you handed the cashier the money for both your purchases. “I know you get paid as much as a minister like me, but it's better to keep that money for yourself. I’m not letting a kouhai pay.”

As you left the store, bags in hand, the cool evening air settled around the two of you. The path you were taking happened to lead in the same direction, toward both the shrine you were tasked with protecting and Suguru’s temporary accommodations. You fell into step beside each other, the quiet of the mountain enveloping the conversation.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up. “Geto–kun…. Why did you decide to become a sorcerer?”

Suguru glanced at you, puzzled by the sudden question. “Huh?”

You kept your gaze forward, the faint sound of your footsteps mingling with the rustling of the wind. “I’m just curious. Some people ignore the call. They choose to live normal lives. So… what’s your reason?”

Suguru blinked, surprised by the depth of your question. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to answer. Most people didn’t bother asking why someone became a sorcerer. It was just assumed that if you had the ability, you used it. But you weren’t like most people.

He thought for a moment, his usual confidence dimmed slightly as he reflected on your question. “I guess… I wanted to protect those who can’t protect themselves.” he said eventually, his voice steady but sincere. “It sounds cliché, but that’s the truth. I want to be honorable in that duty.”

You looked at him, studying his expression. “Honorable, huh?”

He nodded, feeling a little more certain now. “Yeah. There’s a lot of bad out there, and I guess I just want to be someone who stands in the way of that.”

A faint smile touched your lips. “That’s a good answer, Geto–kun.”

He chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah? Well, it’s the only one I’ve got.”

You both continued walking, the temple drawing closer in the distance. Suguru found himself thinking more about your question, wondering if maybe you had asked him because of your own reasons—your own constant, relentless drive to take on mission after mission. But he didn’t press. Not yet.

“Why do you ask?” he ventured, curiosity getting the better of him.

You shrugged. “Just wondered what keeps you going.”

Suguru smiled softly. “Same thing that keeps you going, I guess. We’re both too stubborn to quit.”

You smiled slightly as you listened to Suguru's answer, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "That’s not a bad reason, Geto–kun." you said, your tone warm but thoughtful.

Suguru shook his head with a faint grin. "Maybe not. But Satoru thinks differently. He says it’s naive.”

That earned a snicker from you, and you glanced at him with an amused glint in your eyes. "Gojo–kun knows too much about jujutsu society. That’s why he’s cynical. It's hard not to be when you're aware of all the ugliness." You paused for a moment, considering your words before speaking again, a little more seriously this time. “But your dreams, Geto–kun….they’re beautiful. You want to protect people. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Suguru blinked, a little surprised by the genuine compliment. He hadn’t expected to hear that from you—someone who was always so grounded, so focused on the realities of the world. For a moment, it felt like his idealism wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

But then your expression shifted, more serious now. "Just don’t bear it too heavily, okay?" you warned softly. “It’ll hurt you if you do.”

Suguru frowned slightly, sensing the weight behind your words. “What do you mean?”

You exhaled, your gaze fixed on the path ahead. “Being a jujutsu sorcerer is proportionality, Geto–kun. There’s a balance in what we do. If you shoulder too much—if you put everyone else ahead of yourself—it’ll tear you apart. I’ve seen it happen.”

Suguru listened carefully, taking in your words. He had always admired your strength and resolve, but there was something about the way you spoke now, as though you had learned these lessons the hard way. "I get what you’re saying, but... if I don’t do it, who will?"

You gave him a smile, as if you knew that line of thinking all too well. “You don’t have to bear it alone. That’s what I’m saying. Keep yourself in check. You’re still young. You have Gojo–kun, don’t you? He’s your person. Talk to him when things get too heavy.”

Suguru felt a warmth creep up his neck as your words settled in. He was caught off guard, an unexpected blush rising to his cheeks. “Uh… I mean, yeah, Satoru is definitely—” His voice trailed off as he searched for the right words, suddenly aware of how closely you were watching him. There was something undeniably comforting in your gaze, and it made his heart race.

You smiled at him, a soft and encouraging expression that felt like a warm blanket on a chilly day. “I had someone like that too, you know? So I speak from experience.”

Suguru’s eyes widened in surprise, his curiosity piqued. “You did?”

“Of course! Everyone needs a Gojo–kun in their life,” you said, your tone teasing but affectionate. “Someone to share the burden with, even if they annoy you half the time.”

Suguru couldn’t help but chuckle at that, a lightness filling the air between you. “That sounds like him.”

“Right?” you replied, laughter dancing in your voice. “But really, it’s more than just sharing the burdens. It’s about the support. They’re there to lift you up when you feel like you’re sinking.” You paused, looking away for a moment as if reflecting on your own experiences. “And to keep you from doing something really stupid.”

He tilted his head, a playful smirk forming. “Like what? Getting into trouble?”

You met his gaze, your smile transforming into something a bit more mischievous. “Oh, you know. Like trying to fight a curse way out of your league without backup.” You winked at him, and Suguru’s heart skipped a beat. The easy banter felt effortless, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift.

“I would never do something like that.” he protested, crossing his arms in mock indignation. “I’m far too responsible.”

“Responsible, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “I’ve seen the way you and him bicker. If that isn’t a recipe for trouble, I don’t know what is. Yaga must suffer having to deal with the two of you often, doesn’t he?”

Suguru laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, fair point. But you still have to admit that Satoru can be a handful.”

“True enough, I suppose.” you conceded with a playful grin. “But that’s what makes him so much fun. And it’s nice knowing that someone’s got your back, even if they’re a little ridiculous sometimes.”

Suguru’s heart warmed at your words, a feeling of camaraderie blossoming between you. “You’re right. I guess it’s nice knowing I can lean on him, even if he doesn’t always act like it.”

“Exactly!” you said, your enthusiasm infectious. “And you can lean on me too, you know. Just because I’m older doesn’t mean I have all the answers.”

Suguru smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through him. “Thanks. That means a lot.” He paused, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. “So, who was your ‘person’?”

You looked away, your expression turning thoughtful as you seemed to reflect on a memory that danced just out of reach. The shift was subtle, but he noticed how the light in your eyes dimmed slightly, as if the joy of the moment had been overshadowed by something unspoken.

“Let’s just say… life doesn’t always work out the way you expect.” you replied softly, the weight of your past hanging in the air. “And it didn’t work with that person.”

Suguru’s heart ached for you, sensing that there was more to your story than you let on. But before he could press for details, you turned back to him, the sparkle in your eyes returning as if you were determined to lighten the mood. “But enough about me! Let’s focus on your beautiful dreams of saving the world. I mean, someone has to keep Gojo–kun in check, right?”

His laughter filled the space between you, dispelling the heaviness that had crept in for just a moment. “Yeah, that sounds like a full-time job!”

“Then I suggest you get plenty of rest, then.” you said, your tone teasing but genuine. “You’ll need all the energy you can get if you plan to take on both Gojo–kun and the curses. Don’t get injured too much too. Ieiri–chan deserves better than to suffer so much of you.”

Suguru nodded, feeling buoyed by the conversation. He didn’t quite know how to express it, but he felt a deeper connection with you—something that transcended the usual mentor-mentee relationship. You understood him in a way that was comforting and invigorating all at once.

As you both continued walking, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, he couldn’t help but feel grateful. “Thanks for talking, really. It helps to know I’m not alone in all of this, Gen–senpai.”

You smiled back at him, a soft, genuine expression that made his heart skip again. “Anytime, Geto–kun. Remember, you’ve got more support than you think. Call me when you need me.”

“Y–yes, Gen–senpai.”

You gave him a small nod, though your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Then I’ll be off. You worked hard today, Geto–kun. You should get some sleep.”

With that, you turned and began walking away, your footsteps steady yet purposeful. Geto Suguru hesitated for a moment, but he knew you had other matters to take care of. For the first time in a while, he thinks he doesn’t want you to go.

HE DOESN’T KNOW IF THIS WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN. But this is what happened as time went on. Geto Suguru walked along the winding path, the fading light of dusk casting long shadows behind him.

As he pondered the warmth of your recent conversation, a thought flickered in the back of his mind, growing more insistent with each passing moment. Could his heart grow bigger?

He had always felt love for Satoru and every day, it seemed to grow fonder, wanting, fiery; it was a bond forged through shared struggles, laughter, and an unspoken understanding that went deeper than words.

But now, as he reflected on all the times you had been there for him—guiding him through his studies, sharing your insights on cursed techniques, and even demonstrating how to wield cursed objects—he realized that his feelings for you had blossomed into something unexpected.

Every time Suguru sought your advice, you responded without a moment’s hesitation. Whether it was late at night, after exhausting missions, or in the quiet spaces between battles, you always made time for him.

You never wavered, never hesitated to share your knowledge, your insight. It was more than just advice; you offered your kindness, your quiet strength, in a way that left him feeling both deeply grateful and, at times, overwhelmed by the depth of your care.

He had never been good at asking for help. Even back then, pride had been one of his most stubborn traits. Yet with you, it felt different. He didn’t need to ask twice. You were always there—an unwavering presence amidst the chaos of their lives as sorcerers. You were someone who believed in him, even on the days when he struggled to believe in himself.

"How do you do it?" Suguru asked one evening after a particularly grueling mission. His voice was softer than usual, his usual sharp edge dulled by exhaustion and something heavier, more introspective. The two of you were sitting on the steps of Jujutsu High, the weight of the day’s battle settling in your bones, the moon casting a faint glow over the courtyard.

"Do what?" you asked, turning to face him, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. Your eyes sparkled with that same warmth he had come to rely on, the one that could lighten the weight of the world in a single glance.

"Stay... so steady." he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck, almost embarrassed by the vulnerability in his question. "No matter what happens, no matter how heavy it all gets… you never falter. How do you keep going?"

You looked at him for a long moment, as if considering your answer, before your smile deepened. "Because it’s not just about me, Geto–kun. It’s about the people I care about. People like you, Gojo—kun…..my friends. That’s what keeps me steady. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard."

Suguru’s throat tightened, and he looked away, his gaze drifting toward the darkened horizon. He wasn’t used to hearing those kinds of words—not directed at him. Not with such sincerity. "You make it sound so easy, senpai." he said, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "But sometimes it’s hard to keep going when everything feels like it’s falling apart."

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your touch grounding him in the moment. "It’s not easy. But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself, Geto–kun. You don’t have to face it alone."

He glanced at you then, his dark eyes meeting yours, searching for something in your gaze. You had always been there, always offering him that unwavering support, that steady presence he had come to admire so much.

It wasn’t just your strength as a sorcerer that left him in awe, though you were undeniably powerful. It was your heart. The way you cared, the way you saw through his defenses and believed in him—even when he didn’t deserve it.

"You’re always saying stuff like that." he said, his voice quieter now, more introspective. "Like it’s no big deal, like it’s just… who you are."

You tilted your head slightly, your smile softening. "Because it is who I am, Geto–kun. And who I’ll always be."

For a long time, neither of you spoke. Suguru felt the weight of those words, the sincerity in them wrapping around him like a balm to his weary soul. He admired you, more than he could ever put into words.

It wasn’t just your strength or your skills as a sorcerer that left him in awe; it was this—your unshakable kindness, your ability to see through the darkness and offer him light, no matter how heavy things became.

Suguru let those words settle over him, the warmth of your presence easing the ache in his chest, even if only for a little while. And in that moment, he realized that no matter how heavy the burdens became, no matter how far he fell—he’d always have this. He’d always have you, a constant light in his life, even when everything else seemed to crumble.

But he couldn’t help wondering, deep down, if he’d ever be able to hold onto it. Or if the darkness inside him would eventually swallow it whole.

He exhaled slowly, leaning back on his elbows, gazing up at the sky. "You know….." he said after a while, "it’s not just Satoru I stay for. You’re… you’re part of the reason too, Gen–senpai."

Your smile wavered, just for a moment, your gaze softening as you studied him. "I’m glad to hear that." you said quietly. "I’m really glad, Geto–kun.”

“Suguru.”

“Hm?”

“Senpai, you can call me Suguru too.” He whispers as he looks at you. “You call Satoru and Shoko by their names now. You don’t have to call me so…so formally.”

“Oh.” You say and then you smile. “Have I made you feel distant? I’m sorry, Suguru–kun.”

“N–no….it’s okay, senpai.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Suguru–kun.” You say, pulling at his hand and grinned. “Come on, I’ll get us both some chocolate milk in the vending machine.”

“Senpai—”

You giggled. “Come, Suguru–kun!”

Amid this warm affection, uncertainty gnawed at him. Would you ever return such feelings? Did you even see him in that light? And then there was Satoru—his best friend, his other half. How could he possibly explain these newfound feelings? Would Satoru understand, or would he see it as a betrayal?

Suguru sighed, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. Burying these feelings felt like the only option. It was better to keep them hidden, to preserve the relationships he cherished rather than risk losing them all.

After all, love was complicated enough in their world, full of curses and dangers; why complicate it further with feelings that might never see the light of day?

He glanced up at the sky, the first stars twinkling into view. As much as he wanted to be honest with you, the fear of rejection held him back. It was safer to keep his heart guarded, to let the affection remain a quiet ember in the depths of his soul rather than a blazing fire that might scorch everything he held dear.

As he walked, he couldn’t help but think of you, the way your laughter lit up the dullest of days, the kindness in your voice that made everything seem possible. You were someone worth cherishing, someone who had woven your way into the fabric of his life without him even realizing it.

Suguru led you into his room, a cozy space filled with posters of various bands and an impressive collection of CDs lining the shelves. He smiled sheepishly, his fingers brushing against the cases as he gestured for you to take a closer look.

But for now, he would remain silent, allowing his heart to hold onto those feelings, tucking them away in a corner where they wouldn’t threaten to disrupt the fragile balance of his relationships.

It was a bittersweet decision, one that left him feeling both relieved and sorrowful as he continued down the path, the shadows of the mountains rising around him like an embrace—dark, protective, and filled with the weight of unspoken love.

“Uh, so this is my collection. You told me that you like this sort of music.” he said, a hint of pride lacing his words, though his cheeks flushed slightly as he glanced at you. “I’ve been collecting for a while now.”

You stepped closer, examining the colorful album covers and their eclectic mix of genres. “Wow, Suguru! This is impressive! I didn’t know you were such a music aficionado.” you remarked, genuinely intrigued.

His bashfulness intensified at the compliment, and he scratched the back of his neck, a shy grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, well, it’s just something I really enjoy. It helps me focus when I’m training, you know?”

You nodded, picking up a CD with a vibrant cover. “I can see why! Your taste is really good! I mean, look at this—Queen, Bowie? They’re amazing! How did you even discover them?”

Suguru’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and he shrugged, trying to downplay your praise. “Oh, I just… stumbled upon them a while back. They have a unique sound that I like.”

You laughed softly, putting the CD back on the shelf and meeting his gaze. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Seriously, these choices are fantastic. You’ve got a great ear for music!”

His bashful smile widened, and he felt a warm flutter in his chest. “Thanks. I just like to find music that speaks to me.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think anyone would really notice.”

“Of course, I notice! Music has a way of bringing people together, and I think it’s awesome that you have such a passion for it.” you encouraged, leaning against the shelf and crossing your arms, your smile encouraging. “You should share it more often!”

Suguru fidgeted slightly, glancing down at the CDs as if they held the answers to his swirling emotions. “Maybe... I just never thought it was a big deal, senpai.” he mumbled, his gaze drifting back to you, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest.

“Well, I think it is.” you said firmly, your eyes sparkling with sincerity. “I’d love to hear your favorites sometime. Maybe we could listen together? Bring Satoru–kun and Shoko–chan. I’m sure Yu–kun and Kento–kun. I’m sure we’ll have fun together, don’t you think?”

His heart raced at the idea, and he nodded slowly, a smile breaking through his bashfulness. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’d like that, senpai.” he replied, his voice steadying as he felt a new sense of confidence in your presence. “On your next day off, I suppose.”

You grinned, feeling a warmth spread between you. “It’s a deal, then! Just warn me if you’re about to play something super embarrassing.”

Suguru chuckled, the tension easing. “I’ll do my best, but no promises. I have a few guilty pleasures.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Suguru-kun.” you teased, your laughter filling the room and making Suguru feel a little more at ease, his heart buoyed by the connection growing between you.

HE THINKS HE FEELS WHOLE WHEN HE’S WITH SATORU. But even as Suguru grappled with his thoughts, a flicker of hope ignited within him. He often found himself wondering if he would feel even more complete when he, you, and Satoru were together. The notion that the three of you could create something beautiful filled him with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was in the quiet moments he treasured the most—the laughter shared over late-night snacks, the easy camaraderie that unfolded when you all trained together, pushing one another to be better.

The way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you planned pranks on Satoru or the way Satoru’s laughter rang out like music, brightening the air around you both. Suguru couldn’t shake the feeling that these moments, filled with laughter and love, would fill the empty spaces inside him, the ones he hadn’t known were there until you came into his life.

He had seen the dynamic unfold before him. You and Satoru, with your effortless chemistry, often made him feel like an outsider looking in, yet there was a part of him that ached for that connection. The thought of you all laughing together, of sharing joy and camaraderie, tugged at his heartstrings. It was a simple dream, but one that seemed almost unattainable.

In his more vulnerable moments, he’d fantasized about the three of you taking on missions together. “Can you imagine?” he’d whispered to you one evening, the stars glittering overhead. “Just the three of us, fighting side by side. I think we could take on anything.”

You had chuckled softly, your eyes shining with warmth. “We’d be unstoppable!” you replied, your tone light yet filled with genuine belief. “We’d have fun too, and maybe even find a way to make it all bearable.”

Suguru nodded, savoring the idea. But there was still an ache in his heart, a worry that he might ruin it somehow, that he might overshadow the happiness you shared with Satoru.

The darkness that he often felt creeping at the edges of his mind made him question if he could truly be a part of that happiness. Would he be an anchor weighing you down, or could he learn to fly alongside you both?

As he watched you and Satoru interact, he often found himself captivated by the way you lit up around each other. The way you made each other laugh, the shared glances filled with unspoken understanding.

He could see the joy radiating from you both, and it stirred something deep within him—a longing for connection, for belonging. Suguru had never considered himself a jealous person, but witnessing the bond between you and Satoru often left him with a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

But there was also a growing realization: he didn’t have to fit into the mold of either of you. He could bring his own light to the trio, his own flavor to the friendship. Each of you had your strengths and weaknesses, and together, you could create something beautiful—a tapestry woven from laughter, shared struggles, and undeniable bonds.

He let himself imagine those scenarios, the three of you exploring the city at night, catching dinner at your favorite spot, or the three of you sprawled out on the floor, playing video games until dawn. Geto Suguru envisioned the sound of your laughter ringing through the air, the feeling of camaraderie that would surround you like a warm embrace.

In those fleeting moments of hope, he realized that he could be happy. You had already shown him that he could find joy again, even amidst the shadows. If he could just allow himself to take the leap, to embrace the uncertainty, maybe he would find himself even fuller—more vibrant—when you, Satoru, and he were together.

Suguru knew it wouldn’t be easy. He had demons to battle, insecurities that needed confronting, but with you and Satoru by his side, perhaps he could learn to navigate those turbulent waters. And as he caught your gaze across the room one day, that hopeful warmth bloomed in his chest, pushing away the lingering doubts that had clouded his mind.

Maybe he thought. We really could have fun together. Maybe we could create something that would light up the darkest corners of our hearts.

And for the first time in a long time, the possibility of a brighter future seemed within reach, one filled with laughter, love, and unbreakable bonds.

Satoru and Suguru sat down in his bed for a long while after a night spent tangled in each other's arms. The moonlight filtered softly through the windows, casting a silver glow over their quiet breaths. Their bodies still thrummed with the lingering heat, but in the calm that followed, there was space for something deeper.

Satoru, leaning back with a gentle sigh, broke the silence. "I think... I’ve fallen in love with them." he confessed, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. He looked at Suguru. “Gen–senpai.”

Suguru turned his head slightly, his dark purple eyes finding Satoru’s, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. He didn’t speak right away, but then, slowly, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. He smiled against his shoulder. “Yeah… I have too.”

The corner of Satoru’s lips quivered into a warm smile, eyes soft as he looked at Suguru. “It doesn’t make me love you any less, you know.” he said, sincerity coloring every word.

Suguru’s laughter bubbled up again, deeper this time, as he shook his head. “I know that.” he replied, eyes twinkling. “It just means we’ve both grown a bigger heart, doesn’t it?”

Satoru nodded, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from Suguru’s face. “I want to make them happy. I want to protect them from the world, the way I do you. I want us to be happy together.”

Suguru leaned into Satoru’s touch, his own smile softening. “I want the same thing.” His voice held the weight of a promise, one made in the stillness of the night, where only truth lingered between them.

AND YET, NOTHING EVER GOES TO HUMAN WISHES. The world had shattered when Amanai Riko died, a blow so devastating it left an unfillable void. The trauma of loss, grief, and anguish twisted within Geto Suguru like a storm he could no longer control.

He had always been strong, holding the weight of so many expectations, but that moment—the senseless death of someone they were meant to protect—was the catalyst that began his unraveling.

You had been furious. Suguru had seen it, felt it in the way your energy crackled with righteous anger on their behalf. You had stormed into arguments with Yaga and Gakuganji, your voice sharp with frustration.

You called them out, unrelenting, accusing them of failing Suguru and Satoru, of putting too much on their shoulders. You offered to take on their missions, as if sacrificing yourself would shield them from the horrors of this world. Suguru had appreciated your fierce loyalty, but he also saw through the mask you wore.

He saw the weariness in your eyes, the deep, bone-deep fatigue that mirrored his own. You were just as tired, just as broken by this life as he was, and yet you clung to hope—for them, if not for yourself. But hope wasn't enough to keep the darkness at bay.

Over time, the distance between them grew like a slow tear in fabric—once so tightly knit, now fraying at the edges. Suguru and Satoru, the strongest, the unbreakable pair, were drifting apart. The burdens neither of them could fully share weighed heavier with each passing day.

Satoru, with all his strength, was consumed by his own responsibilities, the guilt over Riko’s death haunting him like a shadow. He was there, but only in the physical sense, his heart and mind distant, somewhere beyond reach.

And you—you were caught in the middle, silently holding together Suguru’s burdens on top of your own. You were trying to hold everything together, the glue between the cracks that had begun to form. You had always been the one to fight for them, to step into the line of fire if it meant protecting them from pain. But this pain was different. It was insidious, creeping into every corner of your life, until it weighed so heavy you could hardly breathe.

"Are you okay?" Suguru had asked you one evening, his voice soft but lined with concern. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the answer you wouldn’t say.

You had smiled, that same practiced, hollow smile that had become second nature. "I’m fine, Suguru–kun." you replied, your voice steady but empty.

Suguru frowned, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward, his hand reaching for yours. "You don’t have to be fine all the time. Not with me."

"I am fine." you repeated, pulling your hand away gently, your heart heavy with the lie. You wanted to believe it, for his sake and your own. But you weren’t fine. Not at all.

You were just as broken as he was. Maybe more.

Then Haibara died.

It wasn’t just another loss—it was the breaking point. Haibara was one of the brightest lights in their dark world, a beacon of hope, of goodness. His death wasn’t just tragic—it was devastating, senseless, another reminder of how cruel and indifferent the world was.

That night, Suguru came to you, his face pale, eyes hollow with grief. He didn’t say anything for a long time. He just stood in your doorway, the weight of everything that had happened hanging in the air like a fog. You could feel the walls closing in around both of you, the suffocating pressure of everything you had tried so hard to ignore.

"I can’t do this anymore, Gen–senpai." Suguru finally said, his voice raw, barely above a whisper. He stepped into the room, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. "I can’t watch this happen over and over again."

You swallowed the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. "Suguru…"

"No, no." he cut you off, shaking his head as he sat down beside you. "I’m done pretending. I’m done lying to myself that we’re doing something good here. That this means anything."

You looked at him, your heart aching at the defeat in his voice. "It does mean something," you said, though even as the words left your mouth, they felt empty. How many times had you told yourself that same thing, hoping it would be enough to keep you going?

Suguru’s gaze met yours, and in his eyes, you saw it—the breaking. The man you once knew, the one who had carried the weight of others without hesitation, was falling apart. He let out a bitter laugh, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Does it? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it anymore. I’ve watched too many people die. Too many good people. And for what? So the next mission can take the next person? So we can lose more friends, more lives, and call it ‘necessary’?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Because deep down, you agreed. Haibara’s death had been a tipping point for you, too. You were so tired—so tired. Of fighting, of losing, of trying to keep it all together. And Satoru… He had been slipping further and further away, lost in his own world of guilt and self-reproach, leaving you to carry the pieces of what was left.

"I wanted to save people." Suguru continued, his voice cracking as his hands balled into fists. "But I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save Haibara. I can’t save anyone. Not anymore."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with something dark, something final. "It’s broken, and I don’t know how to fix it anymore."

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "You don’t have to fix it, Suguru–kun. We’ll get through this. We always do."

He gave you a sad smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. "I don’t think I can do that anymore."

And then, in the stillness of the night, something in Suguru snapped. You could see it—the cold, detached resolve settling over him like a heavy cloak. The next thing you knew, he had left, and when he came back, it was with blood on his hands.

He had murdered that village. And the man you knew, the man who had once fought so hard to protect, was gone.

The weight of the sorrow, the anger, the pain. All of it became too much to bear. He saw the world for what it was: a place full of suffering that would never stop unless someone made it stop.

And so, in the dead of night, he walked into that village, his heart cold, his mind set on a singular purpose. He slaughtered them all—men, women, children as if purging the world of that one village might somehow ease the weight in his chest.

It didn’t.

But it was the moment Geto Suguru stopped trying to be the person he once was. And it was the night he fully embraced the path that would lead him to become something else—someone who no longer fought for the world, but against it.

The first person he came to see after it all happened was you.

Suguru stood in your doorway, still dressed in his bloodstained uniform, his face unreadable beneath the coldness that had settled in his eyes. The moonlight cast pale shadows across his face, but you weren’t stunned by his presence.

You had already known—felt it the moment it happened. What he had done. It was like that night with Kaiko all over again, when she had shown up before you, her hands dripping with blood, her eyes empty of remorse.

You stared at him, your expression calm, though your heart weighed heavy in your chest. "Why are you here, Suguru?" you asked, your voice soft, almost tired. You had been waiting for this.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered across your face, searching for something—understanding, maybe. Forgiveness, perhaps. He stepped into your space, his presence filling the room, but the warmth that once came with him was gone.

"I’m building something new." he said quietly. "A world where we don’t have to suffer anymore. Where we’re free from this endless cycle of death and pain." His voice was steady, but there was something hollow in it, something broken that couldn’t be fixed. "I came to ask if you’d come with me."

You blinked, his words hanging in the air between you like a heavy fog. "Why me?" you asked, your eyes meeting him, searching for something in the depths of his darkness. "Why not ask Satoru?"

Suguru flinched, just barely, but enough for you to notice. His jaw clenched, and he didn’t answer. He looked away, as if the mention of Satoru’s name was too much, too painful. It said everything you needed to know without him having to say a word.

You sighed softly, sadness curling in your chest like a quiet ache. You smiled at him then, a soft, bittersweet smile, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. You deeply adored him, cared for him, just as you do with Satoru, but this wasn’t the path you could walk. Not this.

"I’m sorry, Suguru." you whispered, your voice trembling at the edges.

His eyes met yours again, and for a moment—just a fleeting second—you saw the man you once knew. The man who cared, who wanted to save people, who carried the world with you. But it was gone just as quickly as it came, swallowed by the void he had fallen into.

He nodded, his expression hardening once more. He didn’t say anything as he turned to leave, but the silence between you was louder than words. You watched him go, knowing that the Suguru you once knew had already walked away long before he came to you tonight.

And all you could do was whisper to the emptiness left in his wake, "I’m sorry."

epilogue

YOU NEVER EXPECTED IT. It was 2014, the first time you had seen him in years. You were in Hida, nestled in the tranquility of the forest, resting after Satoshi’s birth. The crisp mountain air surrounded you, the soft rustle of leaves above matching the rhythm of your quiet hum as you cradled your son in your arms.

Leaning against the broad trunk of a tree, you let the peacefulness of the moment wrap around you, the soft melody filling the air as Satoshi dozed in your embrace.

You sensed him before you saw him—Suguru. His presence had always been familiar, a deep current of energy that used to pull you in, but now it was different, muted somehow. When you finally looked up, there he was, standing just a few feet away, watching you with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Is that the same song you used to hum to me when you brushed my hair?” he asked, his voice low, carrying the weight of memories with it.

Your fingers stilled for a moment in Satoshi’s soft hair, and you turned your gaze back to your son, trying to keep the ache in your chest at bay. "What are you doing here, Suguru?" you asked quietly, your eyes focused on the peaceful rise and fall of Satoshi’s breathing, trying to steady your own.

He stepped closer, moving with that same graceful ease you remembered. "I wanted to visit you," he said, the smile widening just a fraction. It wasn’t the smile you remembered—the warmth had long since faded from it, replaced with something distant, something unreadable.

You didn’t look up as he sat down beside you, close but not touching, the space between you now more than just physical distance. You hummed softly in response, acknowledging his presence but keeping your focus on Satoshi. "You’ve gotten better at hiding your cursed scent." you remarked, your tone light, though the words carried a quiet truth.

Suguru hummed back, leaning against the tree beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Thank you for the compliment."

For a moment, there was silence between you, the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the faint cooing of Satoshi. The years that had passed felt like lifetimes, like different worlds had formed between you. And yet, in that quiet moment, it felt almost like before. Almost.

But not quite.

"Things change." Suguru said after a while, his voice soft, almost contemplative. You didn’t respond, just continued humming the tune you once sang to him all those years ago, when the world was different, when you were different. He listened quietly, the weight of his presence beside you both a comfort and a reminder of the distance that could never fully be bridged.

You didn’t need to ask why he was really there. You already knew. He wasn’t just visiting. He was mourning you, mourning Satoru. Mourning this life. Right in front of you.

You glanced at him, the man you hadn’t seen in so long, the ghost of someone you once knew. “How have you been, Suguru?” you asked softly, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer, or if it even mattered after all this time.

He smiled, a shadow of the one you remembered from years ago. “I’ve been well,” he said, though the weight in his voice suggested otherwise. He was never one to reveal his heart so easily, especially now, when the chasm between you both felt endless.

You nodded, accepting the answer for what it was. Then, after a moment, you asked, “Do you know Satoru’s coming to visit me?”

Suguru didn’t hesitate, his smile turning a touch wry. “I know, I know.” he said, his tone laced with familiarity. “I can smell Satoru from miles away.”

You hummed in response, a quiet acknowledgment of the strange and complicated bond they still shared. The tension between them had always been palpable, the kind that came from loving someone too deeply, from sharing too much history and heartache.

At that moment, Satoshi stirred in your arms, his tiny fists unclenching as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He blinked up at Suguru, his deep blue eyes—the same piercing shade as Satoru’s—curious and bright.

Suguru looked at him for a long moment, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “He reminds me of Satoru.” he murmured, his voice softened, the edge gone. There was a warmth in his gaze that was almost foreign to you now.

You smiled softly, nodding. “He should. I married Satoru, and Satoshi is our son.”

For a brief moment, Suguru’s eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite name—an echo of something long gone, something distant and unreachable. You wondered if it was regret. Regret for the life he could have had, for the choices he made that led him away from this quiet happiness.

You couldn’t help but think of what could have been—how different things would be if he had stayed. If you had been together, building a life, raising Satoshi together. It would have been a beautiful life, you thought, with him in it.

Suguru reached out, his fingers gentle as they traced the soft curve of Satoshi’s cheek. His touch was delicate, almost reverent. He whispered a blessing under his breath, a prayer for a long, happy life, his voice barely audible but filled with a tenderness that tugged at your heart.

You watched him, your chest tightening with the weight of everything left unsaid. “Suguru…” you whispered, your voice trembling, almost heartbroken. The reality of the moment pressed in on you, the finality of it.

He looked at you then, his eyes soft but distant, as if he had already begun to slip away. “I have to go now.” he said quietly, standing up, his movements slow, deliberate. “Satoru grows near.”

You couldn’t stop him, though a part of you wanted to reach out, to pull him back into your life, to ask him to stay, to find some way to heal what had been broken. But you knew it was too late for that.

But that life was not yours to live. Not anymore.

As Suguru stood up to leave, the words spilled from your lips before you could stop them. "If Kaiko was the light of my life, and Satoru the love of my life…." you said, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with emotion. "Then you, Suguru… you are the loss of my life."

For a moment, he paused, his back still turned to you. The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything that had been broken, of everything that could never be repaired. Slowly, Suguru turned to face you, and when he did, there was that smile again—so soft, so sad, it made your heart ache.

"I know." he whispered, his voice gentle but lined with sorrow. His dark eyes met yours, filled with the kind of understanding that only comes with time, with regret. "You and Satoru were mine."

The truth of it hung between you, raw and painful. Your heart clenched, and the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sobs, but the grief you had carried for so long, the grief of losing him, of losing what you all could have been, spilled out like a wound reopening.

Satoshi stirred in your arms, his little face scrunching in concern. Noticing your tears, he reached up with his tiny baby hands, clumsily trying to wipe them away. His touch was soft, innocent, and it only made your heart ache more. You held him close, your tears falling onto his soft hair, as you tried to compose yourself.

Suguru watched for a moment, his expression unreadable, as if he were memorizing this final image of you and Satoshi, this life he had chosen to walk away from. And then, without another word, he turned and left.

You watched him go, your vision blurred by tears, your heart breaking with each step he took away from you. This was the end—the last goodbye. The loss you had always feared would come, finally settling into your bones, leaving behind a hollow, aching space that would never be filled.

Satoshi cooed softly, still reaching for your face, his small hands warm against your skin. You held him close, feeling the bittersweet weight of your love for him, for Satoru, for Suguru—all of it tangled together in a web of memories and emotions that would never fully fade.

Suguru was gone, and with him, the last piece of a life you once dreamed of.

Gojo Satoru arrived not long after, his familiar presence filling the quiet space of the forest as he approached. You looked up from where you sat, still holding Satoshi close. The moment his eyes met yours, you saw the flicker of concern cross his face. He noticed, of course. He always did.

"Hey." he said softly, crouching down beside you, his voice gentle as the breeze. His gaze lingered on your face, taking in the remnants of the tears you had wiped away.

You smiled at him, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, but one you hoped would be enough. “I cried because Satoshi’s just so adorable, Satoru.” you said, your voice light, almost playful, as you nuzzled your son’s soft hair. “Our son’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

Satoru looked at you, and even though you knew he didn’t believe you, he didn’t press. His blue eyes searched yours for a moment longer before his lips quivered into a knowing, sad smile. “Is that so?” he murmured, tilting his head as if playing along.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his warmth grounding you in a way only he could. Then, with the same tenderness, he kissed Satoshi’s little head, making your son giggle softly in your arms.

But you knew he could sense it—Suguru’s lingering presence in the air, in the space you all once shared. Satoru’s bond with Suguru was something words could never fully capture, and even if they hadn’t spoken in years, he could feel that he had been here. You could see it in the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the way his smile faltered for a split second before he steadied himself.

And you knew, in that quiet, unspoken way between the two of you, that Satoru was mourning too. Not just for Suguru’s absence in his life, but for the life that could have been—what you all could have had if things had been different.

But like always, Satoru didn’t say anything about it. He just stayed there, next to you, his presence a comfort as Satoshi began to babble happily, oblivious to the undercurrent of sadness hanging in the air. You leaned into Satoru, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, as the quiet settled between you.

Together, you mourned for Suguru in the silence. You didn’t need to say it. He didn’t need to ask. You both understood the ache that would always remain for the one who had been lost to you both.

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the-californicationist · 7 months ago

Note

Hello Cali ❤️. Por alguna razón no te había visto más en mi muro de tumblr y me preguntaba si no estabas aquí, por eso busqué tu perfil y me di cuenta que tumblr me estaba jugando una mala pasada.

How are you??? I'm so busy because I have a loooot of work, pero me tomaré el tiempo de leer todo lo que me perdí de ti ✨✨✨

YOU ARE THE BEST, OK? I LOVE YOU ❤️💍

Quisiera que escribieras un smut de John Price CEO/Mafia con un Reader inteligente y astuto, que queda cautivado cuando John comienza a seducirla, porfis ✨

Anything for you, my friend!! I love you so much <3 <3

Wonderland

John Price is a famous mob boss... but you don't know that. All you know is that you've got a crush on a mysterious, handsome man, and you're willing to go all the way to find out if his bite is as bad as his bark.

The parking garage was dark, and the concrete seemed to hold in the cold like a freezer. It felt like ice on his cheekbone, and not even the blood from his eye socket was enough to warm the skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, that odd whooshing sound, and in a distant memory he could recall the first time he had ever gotten a black eye. But, all that was gone now. He had ratted out the one man that no one had dared fuck with in the past five years: John Fucking Price.

Those fucking coppers had said they’d protect him. He even had his people outside his house every hour of every day. How could this happen? He had to admit, he wasn’t even scared, he was just pissed off. Fucking bastards. They’d get what was coming to them. Maybe he’d tell them so. Not like they'd give him any more chances.

“Fuck you, Price. I hope those pigs skin you alive,” he spit out the blood that had began to pool in his mouth, and hoped it hit those stupid boots John was always wearing.

John Price slid his shoe away from the red stain that had began to swell on the ground, keeping his kangaroo leather Berlutis from ruin. The fool beneath his feet had no idea what was about to happen to him, and John almost felt sorry about it, if only for a moment. He and Vinson had been friends once. Hell, he’d even stood up at his wedding.

“Vince, what did I tell you about that bloody mouth of yours? Said it'd get you into trouble, didn't I? Wish there was something I could do for you now, cause you and me, we used to be mates. But, I can't afford friends like you. Not anymore," Price gave the rat a quick shove with his heel and watched as the stain smeared in a thin streak across the cement. He turned to his men,

"Well, lads, I've got a party to get to. You wouldn't mind cleaning things up here for me, would’ya?"

"No, boss," was their quiet reply.

"You'll be sorry, you goddamn pussy!" Vinson was screaming now, "I hope they hang you from the fuckin’-”

Bang! The loud gunshot echoed through the hollow space.

Vinson didn't say anything after that.

"Let's get outta here, Gaz."

"Right away, boss," Gaz opened the door to the limo and prepared to drive John back into the city. There was a big gala at the Genting Casino tonight, and Mr. John T. Price was never late.

He was never early either. In fact, he was perfection incarnate. When he was younger, that wasn't always the case, but after his father died, he had needed to change. No one was fit to rule Liverpool in his stead, and he was thankful that no one had been foolish enough to try. His father had made this town what it is. Liverpool was built by his family, and even though everyone thought the Price regime had grown tired of their reign on the old docks, they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

John had his cut from all of the major casinos, and he traded security in exchange. He owned two of them himself, along with four shopping malls, five bars, three neighborhoods, two apartment complexes, and a golf course - not to mention the property that wasn't in his name. He made sure to give his men plenty of reign over their own enterprises, even if most of them were strip clubs. But, he didn't care. As long as tribute came in every quarter, he never messed around in their business.

He thought Vinson was one he could trust. He'd even given him a car dealership just last month.

"Don't run it into the ground, Vince," he had said.

But, no. What had the little bastard gone and done? Put a tracker on his car and dropped bugs in his office. After everything he'd done for him, that's how he was repaid? To tell the truth, John never liked violence. It was awkward. But, his father had given him fists and showed him how to use them, so there was really no going against it. Violence and fear were vital pieces of the only language that men like Vince could understand. Now, with another family coming to Liverpool, John had to be on his best behavior. Even if 'best' was a little more loosely defined.

As he lit the tip of his last cigar, he reminded Gaz to grab him another few sticks on the way home. Gaz would've never turned coat on him like Vince did. He'd give him the car lot.

"You want the dealership on Sefton street, Kyle?" He offered.

"Sure, boss. Thanks a lot," Gaz smiled, knowing exactly which business he was talking about, "You want me to pull around back?"

They had arrived at the main entrance. Throngs of people were craning around the limo, trying to see who was inside. John thought about it for a second, smushed his cigar tip into the ashtray, and adjusted his tie.

"Nah," he said, "We'll give them the show tonight."

"Sure thing, boss."

Gaz parked the car and leapt out of the cab. His hand was on the door before John could take another breath, and on either side of the door, some of Price’s own foot soldiers took up their posts as bodyguards. When he emerged from the muffled quiet of the limo, it shocked John for a moment to be in such a whirl of chaos.

"Mr. Price, can I get a photo?"

"Over here, please, Mr. Price," a cute reporter was frantic enough to step in front of his men. They picked her up and put her back in the crowd.

John made sure to smile and wave, shake hands with those he had seen before, but he knew it was safer inside.

The manager greeted him warmly and, he noted, by first name,

"John! Good to see you again, mate. We've got just the table for you, tonight. Wait til you see the legs on these girls! It'll be a night to remember."

"I'm sure it will."

"Ah, sorry, but we don't allow weapons past the main floor," the manager's face fell. So did Kyle’s.

Gaz cleared his throat,

"I'm sure you can make an exception for Mr. Price. We'll be very discreet."

It was more of a threat than a promise, and John smiled at his friend's heavy tone. Kyle was anything if not polite.

"Uh, yes, we can certainly make arrangements. Right this way, gentlemen," and now the manager was nothing if not nervous. Perfect.

The night continued as well as it could, but he had never really enjoyed gambling. Why make all this money if he was just going to throw it into the wind? But, he could mingle with the right people here. Except that these weren't his people. He had come as a favor to his long time friend, Alex Keller, but Alex was nowhere to be found.

"Passed out on his missus’ tits, probably!" One of the strangers guffawed at the other end of the Blackjack table.

"He’ll show, don't you worry," another replied.

Well, John didn't have all night to wait on a man to get to his own party. He needed a drink. When he rose to head to the bar, Gaz stopped him,

"I'll get it, boss. No need to bother yourself with it."

The table was silent. The strangers who had been so brassy before were now silent and transfixed on the pair of men at their table, one of whom was important enough to have his slightest whim catered to at a moment's notice.

"It's alright, Garrick. Play my hand, yeah? I'm headed out for a smoke."

"Yes, sir."

John retreated. The awkward stares and weird glances were too much for him to bear. Surely there was a patio around here, somewhere.

By the time he found one, he was disappointed to see it was occupied.

"Oh, beg your pardon. Thought I was alone out here," he said.

To his shock, it was a woman's voice that responded from the shadows. Your voice.

"You're fine. You got a light? Fuckin’ matches are all wet..." You fumbled with the book, striking to no avail.

He smirked,

"I have the fire if you've got an extra smoke."

"Fair trade," you smiled back jokingly.

You were dressed in a clean chef's coat, your hair was pulled up, and you might have been going without makeup, but it was almost too dark to tell. It certainly wasn't casino makeup, that was for sure. John watched as you tugged two cigarettes free from the box, put them to your soft lips, and covered his flame with your hand. Your fingernail paint was pink and chipped. You pulled in the fire of both cigarettes and offered one to him. He took it,

"Thanks."

You grunted in a minimal response.

"So, you're a chef?" He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the glare he deserved for such an obvious question.

He back pedaled,

"I mean, you work here as a chef. I just thought, with the coat...I mean, where's your big bloody hat? You need the hat."

You laughed. It was wonderful to hear, and he liked the way your mouth moved when you started to speak,

"Yeah, I work here. Have for the past three years or so. Bill signed me on as head chef, and I've been slaving away for him ever since."

"Bill?"

"Oh, he's the culinary manager. Runs all the restaurants in the casino and the hotel. When the last guy disappeared into thin air, they had to scramble to find someone, I guess. What about you? Where's your fancy hat? Based on that Hermes tie, I'm gonna assume you're here with the party."

He mindlessly adjusted his tie, noticing its feel on his neck as she called it out,

"Well, I might be."

"Yeah? You some kind of big-shot?" You eyed him again, challenging him to answer with something more than a yes or a no. You had heard yes and no plenty of times.

"I might be," he wouldn't give in.

"If we keep going like this all night, you might end up being the Queen, for all I know."

You both laughed, but then, you sighed,

"Oh well, Mr. Mystery. Keep your secrets then," you shrugged and turned away from him.

He couldn't have that.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Sarah," you spun back around, "Rachel. Tiffany. Willamina. Might be anything."

You had the audacity to wink at him.

"Alright, you got me, love," he moved a little closer to you, "I'm John. John Price."

He extended his hand and waited for the bad news to sink in. No one who knew his name in this town would be dumb enough to be on a patio alone with him at night. He had dodged the media for a long time, but his trials always managed to get leaked. Twelve accounts of assault and battery, two separate accounts of theft, three murder charges - all acquitted of course. But, still, he was no stranger to ducking the law.

"John? Of all the names," you shook your head and smiled, taking his hand firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. You've never heard of me?"

"Oh, Jesus," you lamented, "Are you famous or something? Look, if I'm not in the kitchen, I'm at home asleep. Sorry. I don't even watch TV."

"No, nothing like that, I just - " He thought about it for a moment before you saw him decide to take a different trajectory, “Not famous.”

“Why is it that I feel a little bit like Alice tonight?” You took a long drag and let the smoke fall from your lips, “Like I’m following a white rabbit down a deep, dark hole.”

He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter,

“If you follow me down,” he sidled up to you, his face close enough to yours so you could smell the balsam in his aftershave, “I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

A man’s voice cleared his throat behind you, and you both turned to look at who it was.

“Garrick?” John asked, clearly annoyed.

“Yes, sir. Johnny and Simon made it up. They said they know why Keller hasn’t shown.”

John didn’t answer. He simply turned back to look into your eyes, trying to divine some sort of future from them. He must’ve liked what he saw because the next thing you knew, you were being given a golden key card. Top floor.

Not famous, my arse, you thought to yourself.

“Why don’t you take the night off, love. Come see Wonderland, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”

“My, my,” you said, palming the card from him, “No one ever tells you no.”

Another smile, a little colder than the first,

“No, they don’t.”

“Maybe I will,” you pulled the tiger’s tail.

“You won’t,” the tiger growled back.

As you watched him leave the small patio, his broad back stretching that expensive suit, his thick fingers flicking his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony’s edge, you were kicking yourself. You knew you were going up to his room, even though something inside of you really wanted to yank this guy’s chain. But, his dark, purring voice had made Wonderland sound so inviting… maybe just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?

You waited a whole five minutes before slinking off to the service elevator, cutting out for the night. No one was making dinner anyway; it was the bar that was slammed. You’d already cleaned and prepped your station, so no one would miss you.

You ducked into the bathroom just before the top floor, getting off on the service side in an empty hallway, checking your face for stray flour or coffee stained teeth. You smelled like a pizza oven, but maybe you could sneak a shower before he showed up?.

What a slut, you heard the angel on your shoulder chastise you.

So, what? The devil’s side replied, indignant.

You peeled the chef’s coat off of your body. All you had underneath was a black tee. It was cropped a bit too high for work, but you wore it anyway. Your black work pants were covered in flour and dried food. You brushed them off as best you could. It would have to do. You shoved your coat into your bag and headed back to the hallway.

Luckily, the main elevator was vacant, as was the hallway, so you wouldn’t run into any other guests on your way to Wonderland.

The angel rolled his eyes. The devil glared at him.

The elevator dinged, and you inserted the gold card, clicking the very topmost button to the penthouse.

You’d been up here before. Sometimes, you picked up cleaning shifts on your off days for the extra cash, so you knew the layout. But, that had been in the cold, hygienic light of day. At night, this floor was a sparkling vision. When the elevator doors opened, huge clear windows reached all the way into the ceiling, framing Liverpool’s city center, looking more beautiful than it ever seemed from the ground.

You took quiet, uncertain steps out of the lift, checking for any signs of life. There were none, so you made your way to the bathroom. Huge black marble monolith slabs were carved in a semicircle, a nautilus that curled around the four separate shower heads, all ready to pour their steaming water down your naked body.

You stripped, stepping into the stream, letting yourself pretend that you lived in this sort of luxury for a moment. A soft lather of soap and a little shampoo later and you were clean. The single-use toothbrush and paste was in the hidden drawer that no guest would ever notice, so you stole an extra set, scrubbing yourself to a minty shine.

A pair of black satin robes hung in the closet, so you stole one, tying it around your waist, fully aware that one stiff breeze and the loose-fitting garment would fly right off of you. The soft fabric lay against your skin in the most sensual way, barely touching you and yet making you feel touched.

You explored the hotel room a bit, avoiding Mr. Price’s suitcase like it would bite you. The kitchen came stocked with ice buckets of champagne, so you helped yourself to one, pouring a glass and lounging by the window, wondering how long you’d have to wait for your date.

Fortunately for you, only an hour had passed and you heard the elevator ding. Out from the dark lift came the man himself… bleeding from his lip.

“John! What happened?” You put down your wine and rushed over to him.

He held you back, waving you off like it was nothing,

“Don’t worry, love. Just a bit of a scuffle, tha’s all.”

“But —”

“Seriously,” he grabbed you by your arms and looked you up and down, enjoying the wide opening of the robe as it revealed your body to him, “You should see the other bloke. Let me get cleaned up. Pour me one of those, would’ya?”

Before you could protest, he ducked into the bathroom, out of your reach. You were left standing there, worried and a little concerned for your own wellbeing. You didn’t actually know this man at all, and here you were, lamb to the slaughter, eager and bleating happily.

While he was in the bath, you decided to do a little research. You searched up his name, and you were finding almost no hits, until you stumbled upon a mugshot.

There he was… the notorious mob boss, ruler of the English underground arms dealing circuit, enforcer and racketeering extraordinaire. And here you were, nearly naked in his room with not so much as a penknife within reach. This guy had been in the armed forces, special forces, black ops — the works. He retired and fell into the armed security world, making a name for himself by pushing out the competition by any means necessary. His father had maintained ties to the dark underground, and now John had taken over the family business, doing shady deals for the government and crime organizations alike. All of it was hearsay, of course, and none of the charges had ever landed a single hit… but you knew the truth.

John Price was the most dangerous man in the world; Liverpool’s crime arena was just a quiet little hobby for a man like him. If he wanted to, he could make you disappear like a magician behind a mirror. Gone without a trace.

What would you do? Would you run? Where would you go? How would you explain your sudden exit? Food poisoning?

Before you could even begin to formulate a plan, John was out of the shower. He looked incredible. His hulking, heavy form was steaming from the hot water, and his hairy chest was uncovered. He’d slipped into a pair of running shorts and nothing else, so his brutal body was on display for you. He was covered in scars, and he was heavyset, but his largeness was from his strength. His core was bulky and strong, and when he moved, you could see the tight muscles rolling around beneath the skin like a snake ready to strike.

He turned to you, but even though he wore a smile at first, the moment he made eye contact, his face fell. Somehow, he knew that you knew.

He sighed,

“What did you see?”

He rushed over to his suitcase but found it still locked, looking back to you quizzically. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. John stepped over to you slowly, deliberately, almost as if he was ready for another fight.

You turned your phone towards him and showed him his own mugshot.

“Thought you said you weren’t famous,” you whispered. Your voice sounded so small and far away, you almost felt like you hadn’t spoken the words.

He smiled bitterly, tossing his towel on a nearby chair and sat beside you on the bed,

“Cat’s out of the bag, then?”

“Yeah,” you looked down at your phone, unable to look him in the eye.

“Go on,” he waved his hand at you, motioning toward the door, “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You should have. Every fiber in your being was telling you to make a break for it. Now was your chance. And yet… you stayed. It was silent for a long while. You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and heavy. His breaths rumbled in his chest.

“Go!” He spat, “No one’s keeping you prisoner here, girl. That’s me, alright, and the newspapers don’t even know the bloody half of it. Just go.”

You reacted to his volume, shirking back a bit, but you still didn’t stand. You looked at him then, searching for the kindness you thought you saw on the patio just hours before, checking to see if it was still there, if it was even real.

When you met his eyes, his fury was masking a very real pain. He was angry, sure, but the ache of being cast out was apparent, even though you were the one doing the leaving, and you just wanted that bit of brightness back again.

John studied you, watching your every movement, trying to determine what you were thinking but coming up short. He stood right in front of you, his hips inches from your face, and he asked,

“What are you waitin’ on, love?”

A strong thumb lifted your chin, raising your jaw up to look at him again, and he used his enormous hand to grab your face, keeping you there under his will.

“I know you’re afraid of me,” he commented softly, “I can feel it.”

“So?” You replied, trying to keep your tone steady.

His voice was bitter and mocking, and as he leaned forward, you could smell his clean, warm skin,

“You wanna play with the big bad wolf, hm? See if I bite?”

He grabbed you a little too tightly, trying to scare you. It worked, but you tried not to show it. Instead, you decided to place both of your hands at his hips, your palms flat against his warm belly, feeling the dark hair that formed a faithful trail, guiding your eyes down to his waistband.

It was his turn to be surprised. You felt his breathing catch as you moved your hands up along his ribcage, rubbing gentle circles into his skin, petting him like a skittish hound, expecting him to snap.

Letting go of your face, he grabbed your wrist, and just as you thought he was going to stop you, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, stretching your arm all the way up from where you were sat, making you extend your spine as you reached up to him. Your fingers traced the fur that lay flat against his pectorals, and finally, you plucked at his nipples, not allowing there to be any question as to your intentions.

The tip of his wide finger dipped into the silken collar of your robe, swirling around your neck and following it down to the swell of your breast. He didn’t find your peak, but he didn’t seem to care to. He was just exploring.

Suddenly, John moved faster than you could even begin to understand what was happening. He had reached under you, lifting you, and then tossed you back down on the bed. You lay, sprawled, trying to catch your bearings, and then you were covered by his huge form, his wide body casting shadows over your vision, cloaking you in his own private darkness.

His mouth was on you like a hot flame, licking and burning and biting and sucking wherever he wanted to, eager to taste every inch of your skin, the imperfections of a wrinkle or a freckle seemed to go fully unnoticed as he devoured you, sucking you down like his last meal.

You were overwhelmed by the pleasure he was stoking inside of you, and you let a small mewling sound escape from your lips that caught his attention.

“Mm,” he climbed up your body so that you were face to face, “Enjoying your walk on the dark side, love? Think you’re tainted by me now? Or maybe that’s what you wanted, is it? Something naughty, just for a night?”

You didn’t understand his negativity, nor the self-deprecation, so you tried to protest,

“No, I —”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you how to be a bad girl. I’ll teach you, love. C’mere.”

His voice was smoldering and sticky, clinging to your ears with some of that same bitterness from before. But, you didn’t have time to worry about that. He was standing by the bedside again, and he grabbed your arms, making your head and shoulders hang part way off of the mattress. You were left staring at his thick thighs and scarred knees, worried about what he was up to.

Then, all became clear. He had dropped his running shorts, and the fattest cock you’d ever seen hung down, shining with drool, ready to be fed into your mouth.

Your eyes went wide, and although you reached your hand out to try and brace against his legs, it was no use. He supported your head from underneath and bent himself over until the tip of his swollen cockhead touched your lips, the gleaming precome sticking to you like gloss.

Unwilling to be frightened by his aggression, you opened your mouth for him, laving your tongue across his turgid flesh, allowing him to press himself inside of you.

His cock was slick on the head but dry on his shaft, so you did your best to wet him, licking and sucking as he pumped himself in and out, already nearing the back of your throat and not even halfway sheathed.

When he nudged your soft palate, making you gag a bit, you made a noise. You tried steadying him with your hand, and he grunted, grabbing both of your arms by the wrist, holding them above your face, clutched to his hip. Then, he continued to fuck your face, ignoring your writhing gasps for breath.

Your throat tightened around him, but you tried to stay calm. You’d never taken anyone this deep before, but you stilled yourself, ignoring the urge to panic, and you made a point to swallow, feeling your throat squeeze around his head. You could taste him as he painted the back of your throat, salty and sweet at the same time.

That made him moan, and you felt like you’d won some sort of battle. If he was trying to frighten you, it was going to take more than just a little rough sex.

“Mm, fuck… Maybe you are a naughty little girl, aye?”

You hummed, making sure you could feel the vibrations travel through his girth.

He removed himself fully, taking a trail of your own drool with him, gasping from the pleasure of your mouth.

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he muttered darkly, crawling over you and settling himself between your legs.

You tried to lift yourself back onto the bed, but he kept you hanging there, pinning you down with his strong arm, pressing into your belly with his hand to prevent you from sitting up. Finally, after feeling him kiss and nip at your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, you felt the warm, wet slip of his tongue as it fell between your lips, tasting your throbbing pussy for the first time.

The robe was half-off, and only the tie around your waist was even providing any coverage, and you realized that as he began to eat you, he was yanking off your clothes as well, ripping through the knot of the robe to free you from the fabric.

Now, his mouth moved deeper, and you felt him seal his lips to your pussy, messily drinking you in. As he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth and jaw were strong enough to rock your body up and down on the soft bed, making it seem as if he were actually using his smooth wet muscle as a writhing cock, thrusting it up into you and reaching deep into your hole.

The scruff of his beard was enough to make you want to come, much less the power that he ate you with. Every deep, curling lick sent sparks into your core, making your pussy drip with eager stickiness. It was hungry for that fat, uncut cock, forcing you to imagine how delightful it would be when he popped his giant head into your pink flesh.

You were keening for him. Well, it wasn’t exactly for him, per se. The noises you were making were coming from your throat against your will. If you didn’t scream, you’d pass the hell out, you were sure of it.

“Fuck, that’s it, love. Get loud for me. Ungh… you taste… mmfh… so damn sweet,” he was ruthless, speaking between long suckles from his mouth, commanding you from below.

You wished you could see him, but all you could see from your hanging position was the giant window, looking out across the sparkling city. So, you called out to him, your voice thick with want, with need,

“John…”

That was all it took. He tugged your hips down until he was above you again, prowling over you like some sort of beast, all snarling unbridled lust and appetite. As soon as he was in position — and your body knew he was in position — everything stopped. He stopped.

John looked down at you and became… different. The flirty bloke from the patio was back, and he smiled at you. You smiled back, out of breath and already drunk with hunger, but that was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, making you taste your own musk, and as his soft lips slid over yours, you felt the pressure of his huge cock at your hole, pressing through your folds to reach your hot, soaked center.

You gasped through his kiss, both of you moaning in the same timbre as you felt his heavy dick fit into you for the first time, a sparkling desire swirling within you as every delicious inch of him buried itself in you. He began to thrust himself up into your aching slit, fucking you on half of his length, and then using your own sticky fluid to slip himself the rest of the way in.

“Bloody hell, this fuckin’ pussy… fuck me,” he groaned, wrenching his eyes shut from the pleasure.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He asked, seeking your praise.

“You’re fucking huge,” you didn’t mean to sound so concerned, but there was a part of you that was.

He sat back on his heels, taking some of the pressure away, staring down at your body lecherously, savoring your tits and fondling them in his hands,

“Alright, love?”

“You feel so good,” you insisted, wrapping your hands around his arms as he enjoyed your body.

“Tell me again,” he said, grunting again as he fucked his cock deeper inside of you, reaching a new end before dragging himself all the way back out just so he could start the journey again. He upped his tempo, pounding into you with his weight, the loud smack of his body against yours beating into you like a drum.

“Tell. Me. Again,” he growled his warning, snarling down at you, pinching your nipple to punish you for your silence.

You were gasping for breath. He was so deep now, you could feel the pressure of it in your belly. Between sharp intakes of air, you hissed,

“You… feel.. so… fucking… good…”

“That’s my girl,” he bent over you again and that familiar pressure returned. His cock was too big, and yet you took it anyway. Your body was panic and pleasure all at the same time, and he had you pinned down for the ride of your life.

You weren’t sure how many hours passed that night. He seemed to have the stamina of a much younger man, and every time you dozed off, you’d wake up again to fingers or tongue or cock playing inside of your folds, coaxing you to open yourself up to him. You were happy to oblige, but you were properly fuck drunk. If someone asked you for the alphabet, you weren’t positive you trusted your answer. But, when John Price asked you to open your mouth or your legs for him, you were the top scholar.

A golden, creamy dawn was rising up over the docks as you stared out the window. John’s hand was rubbing your bare back in long, relaxing strokes, and he was leaving soft, lazy kisses down your spine. You knew you were a mess. Your hair was tangled; you’d thrown it up into a messy bun on the second runthrough, done with trying to pretend to be a pristine hot girl. Your body was covered in his marks. Bruises from his teeth and red welts from a delightful slap on the ass or two were painted across you like little tattoos to commemorate your coupling.

“You alright, love?” He checked in on you.

He’d been checking in all night. For all his ruthlessness, he never crossed a line, and he never forgot to make sure you were safe. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d even made you drink a bottle of water and eat some fruit to hydrate, teasing you with grapes like some sort of earthly Baccus.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of your hair. Not sure I should be seen by the public in my current state.”

“You have work, or…” John looked confused.

You thought about lying to him for a moment. It would hurt so much less for you to just break it off now in the soft dawn glow rather than a painful goodbye over cold breakfast. But, you didn’t.

“No, just… don’t wanna fool myself into thinking this was something that it wasn’t.”

Your truth hung there in the air for a moment, but before he could open his mouth to reply, you heard the elevator ding.

You turned to look at it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled you off the bed and forced you to the floor. It was so fast that you didn’t even realize what he’d done until your nose was in the carpet. Then, you heard a sharp, snapping pop of something hitting the bed.

You watched in horror as John’s hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. He held it like a professional, calm and trained, and shot twice. Then, it was quiet again.

He helped you to your feet, and he was telling you something, but your brain wasn’t registering his words. What had happened? Why were there bullet holes in the mattress? Who had he shot?

Then, you saw it. A man’s body was laying across the door of the elevator. Wanting to descend, the elevator’s alarm wailed, beeping and beeping.

John grabbed your jaw and made you listen to him,

“We have to go. Now. Get your clothes on. Now. Now.”

“Okay…” You couldn’t move. It was so hard to even lift your arms. They felt like solid lead. You just wanted to sink back to the floor. Maybe if you could just…

“Hey! Now!”

He shoved your clothes into your hands and you started to put them on, doing your best not to look at the elevator. John was packing a black bag, half-dressed himself, and checking the windows over and over, looking for something in the streets below.

“There’s no time, c’mon, love.”

You felt his hand cover yours as he led you to the elevator. You watched him ruthlessly kick the body away from the doors and push you inside. Once you were in, the doors closed and you rode in silence with him. You could only hear your heart in your ears.

“...to my car. Stay close to me.”

“Okay…” It was all you could say. No other words even dared to come to mind.

“Hey,” he held your face in his as the floor numbers dropped to the teens, “You’re alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay.”

The doors opened, and you found it extremely weird that the lobby was empty. There were no workers, no guests, not even a custodian. It was just a big, silent cavern in what was usually a lively casino.

He was leading you out to the parking garage, and just as you stepped into the concrete enclave, you heard the screech of tires round the corner. John stood in front of you and gripped the gun in his hand, but he didn’t move away.

The car stopped in front of you, and you braced yourself, hiding behind your lover as much as you could.

“Get in, boss! They’re right bloody behind us. Soap, shove over,” a man’s voice came from the car. He was in the driver’s seat, and he was wearing a ballcap with the Union Jack emblazoned on the top. In his passenger seat was a man in a black balaclava, and in the back was a bright-eyed man with a mohawk who you guessed had to be Soap.

“C’mon, love,” John shoved you inside just as a black SUV rounded the same corner, the engine roaring when it saw Price’s car.

Gunshots rang out, and you knew some of them had hit the car. You worried for John, but he stood straight up, aiming carefully for the driver, and fired his gun. As if you were in some sort of action movie, the SUV careened off-course and slammed into several parked cars. Men began to pour from it, armed to the teeth.

John jumped in beside you and made you kneel in the floorboards, holding his body over yours protectively.

“How’d they find out? Gaz!” John yelled at the driver, shouting his name when he saw another SUV approaching from the side.

Gaz swerved, narrowly missing being rammed, and sped off down the highway, trying to run from his pursuers.

“No idea, mate, but they think it was us who tore up the warf. Banno’s man must’ve turned snitch. Only explanation.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked man sighed, rolling down his window to fire shots at the SUV chasing you down.

“Who’s the bonnie hen, boss?” Soap peered down at you before turning his attention back on the car chase.

“Uh… she’s…” John tried to explain, but you realized that you never even told him your real name, “I dunno.”

“You dinnae ken?” Soap’s brows knitted together.

“Soap! Shut up and shoot, mate,” Gaz turned his attention back on the fight.

“Well,” the masked man grumbled loudly, “She’s stuck with us all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. Heading to Katie’s house. No place else is safe.”

“Aye, good call,” John agreed.

Finally, after leaving the city, your pursuers turned back around and left you to your escape. John helped you back into the seat and checked you for injuries.

“John… I’m…” Your voice shook with fear, and you felt all of that stress tumbling down into your chest, turning into shock and tears.

“Shh, it’s alright, love. I’ve gotcha. I’m… I’m sorry. Should’ve known better.”

“Better?” You whispered as he held you to his chest.

“Aye. Thought I could be a normal man for a night. Hit on the hot bird at the bar, go to a fuckin’ party. But, nothing’s normal right now. I’ve put you in this mess, and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a reply, not one that made any sense, and as he held you, you watched the English countryside come into view. Rolling green hills still wet with their dew made everything that had just happened to you seem so far away, but you could smell the gunpowder on his hands as he pet your cheek, and you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

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sanguineterrain · 6 months ago

Note

could I request a fic with insomniac!reader and tim? i love your writing im excited to see how you make his character your own! <3

thanks for the request! first time writing tim... kinda nervous like I'm on a first date 🫣 hope you like! this one isn't as mushy gushy as my usual fics (jason) so yeah. also my knowledge of yj is purely through fic 🤙

tim drake x gn!reader. tw insomnia, tim being so awkward but maybe... there are feelings... who can say. tim's character is so interesting to me (probably because I identify with him the most lmao).

****

It's really, really nice of the team to let you stay over tonight. Like, really nice.

You haven't even done much. You're pretty much a nobody in the superhero world, not even a D-list hero. Certainly not anybody that should be hanging out with the likes of Wonder Girl and Superboy and, God, Tim freakin' Drake.

Kon was just overly generous in his cool, brash way, herding you into a spare room after last night's battle. After tonight, you'll politely break away from the team to give them some reprieve. It didn't escape your notice that they didn't hang out last night like they usually do.

You've been awake for an hour now, listening for sounds of life in the corridor. If you were home, you'd already be on the couch watching crappy TV. But you really don't want to run into anyone here.

Maybe you have some chamomile tea leftover from the last time you stayed over. You hadn't stayed the whole night, slipping away without interference as most of the team had gone to their own homes.

You get up, stretching and popping joints. It's always a little cold in the Tower, and it wakes you up as you walk to the kitchen first. You're as quiet as you can be in heating the water and finding the tea.

You take your mug and head to the den. As you enter, you freeze.

Tim turns his head from his place on the couch. The blue light from the TV makes him paler, and his eyes bluer. Sometimes, he looks so much like Bruce Wayne, it startles you.

"Oh," you say, unsure what else to say. Your brain is tired and fried. "I... was just looking for my watch."

That's definitely your dumbest lie. You don't have a watch. Tim sure as fuck knows that.

His eyes flick to your wrist, as if reminding you both how stupid your lie is, then to your mug. He mutes the TV.

You stay where you are. Tim stands, obviously shouldering his own bout of insomnia.

"It's... you can come in," he says, just as awkward as you.

That's comforting. Tim's usually so suave, the few times you've interacted. He's all Gotham Heights, his upbringing never quite sloughing off no matter how many times he's probably tried to blend in and not be so... private school.

"I was just going to bed," he says quickly.

"No, you weren't," you say. You don't mean for it to come out so shrewd. Tim looks a little startled.

"I mean, you don't need to go," you add. "I'll take this to my room. It's fine. Sorry."

"No, I've been here too long anyway. I should work on my case."

Here's the thing. It's not that Tim avoids you because in order to do that, you'd have to see him more than three times a year.

But there's a distance. You've tried not to take it personally, tried to chalk it up to the fact that you're introverted and Kon and Bart are Kon and Bart, and Cassie's too straightforward to beat around the bush, and you've somehow won her over, which is nice.

And Tim is just... cautious. Paranoid.

Those are understatements, and you can't imagine the psychological damage caused by being raised by Batman, but, well, you've seen the previous and current Robins, so you can hazard a guess.

Anyway, Tim kind of acts like an unsocialized cat with you. You once mentioned it to Kon, in nicer words, but he dismissed you, saying, "Whaddya mean? Rob likes you!" Which had assuaged nothing, but whatever.

"I won't be here long," you say, as a last-ditch effort to not make it feel like you're kicking Tim out of his own space. "I just, uh, couldn't sleep."

He watches you in that freaky Bat way, like he's trying to determine if you're a threat or not. Jesus.

"It's hard for me to sleep after a battle," you add, trying to show your belly. That's how it feels, being around Tim Drake. Like you always need to be vulnerable first. Like you're in a battle of wills you didn't know you entered.

He doesn't sit down, but he does say, "Me too."

You nod and drink your cooling tea. "There's more tea in the kitchen if you want. Chamomile."

"I'm... good. Thanks."

You edge over to the armchair diagonal to the couch and sit.

"You can work in here," you say. "Unless, uh, it's too distracting. I'll keep the TV muted."

His laptop is on the other side of the couch. Tim is still, only his eyes moving from you to the laptop.

"I don't wanna push you out," you say.

"It's really fine," he replies immediately.

It's so not fine. This isn't boding well for your insomnia. You're definitely going to be agonizing over this interaction all week.

"I won't bother you," you say.

"I didn't say you would."

Then what's the problem?

Slowly, Tim returns to the couch. You look away, so it doesn't seem like you're watching his every move (you are), nor is Tim clocking your every move (he is).

He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You drink and try to figure out what's playing on TV. It looks to be a rerun of Columbo. You smile.

"You like Columbo?"

Tim looks spooked that you're still talking to him, but he answers. "Yeah."

"Me too."

You watch Columbo silently look for clues. Tim types, fingers flying over the keyboard. Then his fingers pause.

"I used to watch it with Dick," he says. "When I first became Robin."

You nod, giving him your full attention. "Yeah? He seems like the type."

"He does a pretty good impression of him. He likes detective shows."

"You don't?" you ask.

Tim shrugs. "They're fine. I guess I just hate how predictable they can be."

"Of course the boy genius would say that," you say, smirking.

Instantly, Tim's face turns to stone. He hums, looking back at his laptop. You blink. What happened?

"Sorry. That was a joke," you say.

"I know," Tim says, any trace of warmth gone.

You're startled by the shift. "I don't—I wasn't making fun of you. I mean, you are smart. Really smart."

Tim carefully looks at you. "...Thanks."

You nod clumsily. You should've just stayed in bed.

It's quiet for a long time. You're trying to muster up the confidence to escape to your room when Tim speaks again.

"People have said stuff like that to be facetious. I... reacted without reading your tone."

It's not an apology, but it's probably the closest thing you'll get.

"It's okay," you say.

Tim nods. His shoulders aren't so tense, though his posture is atrocious when he's off-duty.

He gets up and gives you the remote. You take it, smile small. Tim retreats.

"You can unmute it if you want. I don't mind."

So you do, and you and Tim spend the next hour half-watching Columbo and half-watching each other. Eventually, your tea finishes, and the episode ends, so you get up.

"I think I'll try and sleep," you say.

Tim nods. "Good luck."

You hum. "Thanks. Good luck with the case."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You wash the mug and leave it on the dish rack. Then you escape back to your room. You really do feel like you could sleep again. Maybe Columbo reruns are the magic ingredient to a good night's sleep.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #red robin x reader #red robin x you #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake imagine #dc fanfic #dc imagine #batman fanfic #batman imagine #inbox #blurb

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moody-alcoholic · 8 days ago

Text

These Violent Delights

Chapter 20 - Dying To Live

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 9k words. What happened? How did this all happen? Find out in todays chapter. Lot's of secrets coming out.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, PTSD, guilt, all hurt no comfort, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of abortion, Florida, depression, mental health, dead bodies, desecration of multiple corpses, blood, alcohol, description of human remains.

AN: This is the last chapter I am posting of this fic this year. I've been spending time on other things. I do have the next arc planned out and it's a juicy one.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

enjoy <3

The rain is cold.

The wind is cold.

There’s the smell of burning flesh in the air. Sulphur and smoke.

Her eyes open and there’s pain.

So much pain.

Even the rain stings as it hits her skin.

The wind sends shivers up her spine.

She has no idea how much time has passed.

She should be dead. Whatever God let her survive was wrong.

It hurts to breathe.

It hurts to move.

She should be dead.

“Over here! There’s someone here!” The voice is muffled in her ears. She hears boots crash in the pools of water created by the rain. Rubble falling around her. There are lights now. More voices, more scents. She doesn’t need a rescue.

She should be dead.

Voices ring in her ears as rubble is moved off her body, each piece causing her to grit her teeth, trying not to cry out. She won't look weak in the presence of her captors. They must have already moved some of the bigger pieces of rubble, the large walls that had fallen on her pinning her to the ground.

She’s not sure how long she’s been here. It’s dark out. Is it a new day or the same late night? She can see smoke billowing up into the sky. The rain is relentless making her body shiver, her clothes soaked through.

She hears more voices, and there’s more movement. Pressure being lifted off her body. For a second she hopes it's John and the rest of 141.

She doesn’t deserve that luck.

“You’re going to be okay.” The voice is American, local. He’s bent over her shining a torch on her. “Can you hear me?”

Yes. Yes I can. The words catch in her throat. Maybe she’s damaged her voice box. Maybe she’ll never speak again. The figure with the light vanishes, and she’s alone again. She blinks a few times, black spots coming in her vision.

It’s like there’s a cloud over her vision. Maybe she’s lost more than her voice.

“We need EMT’s over here!” the figure shouts. Piper looks as the figure comes back bending over her. He’s not military, he’s a local cop. He’s young, blonde hair, blue eyes. There are more people now, more people calling her demanding her attention.

“Hey, my name is Craig. I'm an EMT. Can you tell me where it hurts?” he asks. His voice is dulled out. With more lights lighting up the area she realises she can only see out of one eye. She tries to move her head from side to side.

“No, keep still,” he says, moving around her body. “We need to secure her for transport, get a collar on her.”

She tries moving her limbs. She can move her fingers, that's good. She tries to move her toes, but she can’t feel anything. Panic sets in and she tries to tip her head but someone grabs it holding it in place.

“I—I-.” She swallows hard, the words sounding wrong in her ears. There’s a ringing now. “My legs—I—I—can't feel them.”

The EMT looks down over her body.

“HEY! Has anyone moved rubble off this person!?” he shouts as someone else comes down, securing a neck brace in place, forcing her head to sit in an uncomfortable position. More voices, more people. Loud voices. The ringing in her ears is louder. There is a new person with her now.

“Hello, I’m Alice, we’re going to get you out of here. What's your name?” She’s sweet. She seems young as she picks up Piper's hand, squeezing it.

“Kate,” she manages to say.

“Kate? Is that your name?”

Piper wants to shake her head but she remembers she can’t.

She doesn’t deserve this rescue.

“No. Kate. Laswell.” Piper sucks in a breath of air. It hurts, it hurts so much. Her breathing becomes pants. Alice looks worried as her colleague Craig comes back. “Kate. Laswell. Emergency contact.”

The EMT nods. “Don’t worry about that. What’s your name?”

She doesn’t want to tell her. It doesn’t matter though because she can’t breathe. Panic rises in her as she tries to bring a hand to her chest. Alice’s eyes widen as she shouts for the other EMT.

“Deep breaths. In and out,” Alice says, taking her scissors out her pocket and moving to cut her shirt.

“Oh my,” she says. “Craig! Chest trauma!”

Chest trauma? That’s not good. She tries to suck in air but it hurts. She can’t breathe. Black spots flash across the vision. She can hear Alice calling but she can’t hold on.

She closes her eyes as her lungs burn.

…

When she opens her eyes again there is more pain, worse pain.

“Nice and easy, there we go.” It’s Alice. She has her hands on Piper's chest. She groans in pain. She still can’t feel her legs. What if she’s paralysed?

“Hey, keep those eyes open for us, we're almost there,” she says, smiling. There’s an oxygen mask on her face. She blinks a few times. There is definitely no vision in her left eye. She can feel movement and hear sirens. She's in the back of an ambulance.

Pain in her chest is unbelievable. It makes her dizzy and she squeezes her eyes closed.

She doesn’t deserve to be alive.

…

When she opens her eyes again there are new people around her. The pain is better, the sharp stabbing replaced with dull throbbing. Machines are beeping, and there is no neck brace anymore.

“Hello, can you hear us?”

She has to turn her head to see the person standing to her left. It’s definitely a doctor with a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck.

She nods.

“My name is Dr. Smith. Can you hear me?” he asks. She nods again looking up at him through fuzzy eyes. “Okay. You’re at Seattle General Hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

Piper nods her head.

“Okay, when you arrived at the hospital you were exhibiting signs of something we call crush syndrome. That happens when you’ve suffered extensive blunt force trauma.” He stops like he’s making sure she’s listening. Piper nods. She wants to tell him she’s a doctor.

Crush syndrome.

She should be dead.

“We’re going to move you to the ICU for the next few days to keep an eye on you. You have a lot of broken bones and we need to make sure you don’t develop pneumonia while your collapsed lung stabilises.”

Piper nods again.

Pneumonia. Pneumothorax.

She should be dead.

She doesn’t get to thank the doctor before she’s wheeled out of the room. She looks up watching the fluorescent lights flash above her head. She closes her eyes. Hopefully they called Kate Laswell. She’s her only hope right now.

The omega is safe though and that's what matters.

When Piper opens her eyes there is someone in her room. For a second she doesn’t recognise them. Then she does, the sharp facial details, the high pony-tail, the fidgeting. It’s Kate.

“You came,” Piper says as Kate leans off the wall.

“I had to see for myself.” She walks over to the side of the bed.

“The omega. Is she safe?” Piper asks. Kate nods. Piper lets out a sigh of relief leaning back in the bed.

“It’s not everyday you get a call telling you someone is back from the dead.”

“I thought I was going to die,” Piper says. She had come to terms with death.

She should be dead.

“You got beat up pretty bad,” Kate says, picking up her chart. “Broken ribs, broken arm, both legs broken—”

“I did have a building fall on me,” Piper interrupts her.

“How long do you think it will take you to heal?” Kate asks, putting the folder back down.

“A month or so. I don’t know. It’s a lot of injuries.”

“I can get you out of here. New identity, fresh start,” Kate offers. Piper shakes her head. Kate sighs like she knew that would be the answer but it’s not the one she wanted.

“Well you can’t stay here. We don’t need the doctors asking questions. You can come stay with me and my wife. At least until you’re healed,” Kate says.

“Thank you.” Piper smiles at her.

Kate shrugs. “Don’t mention it.”

“Where is she?” Piper asks. Kate sighs quickly looking out the room and moving closer to her.

“They’re in Canada. They’ll be leaving soon, they just have to wait for things to calm down,” Kate says. Canada’s not far. Maybe she could catch them before they went to the UK, if Kate could tell her where they are.

“What things?” she asks.

“The DOD are still investigating what happened. They’re hiding, laying low for a bit, and the omega was sick, from what I heard.”

“Sick how?”

“She didn’t exactly take your death well. She had a miscarriage,” Kate says.

Piper sighs, throwing her head back. Fuck, this was her fault. She should have sorted out the abortion earlier. She should have realised sooner. Of course you miscarried, your whole system is a mess. Hale knew that and he still tried to get you pregnant. His obsession with having a pureblood omega could have killed you.

“That made her sick?” Piper asks.

“She was in hospital for a few days but she’s okay now. Just mourning,” Kate says.

“Maybe I could catch them before they leave?”

“They’re leaving tonight and you’re in no position to be following them across the world. They have enough to deal with the omega,” Kate says.

“What about Hale?”

“Dead. They pulled his body out before they found you. He’s in the morgue. We’re waiting for the autopsy.”

“Are you sure it’s him?” Piper asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Who else would it be?” Kate asks.

“You really have no idea the type of stuff we were working on,” Piper says. Kate raises an eyebrow.

“Would you be able to ID him?”

“Of course.”

Kate smiles leaving the room. She comes back a few seconds later with a wheelchair. She helps Piper get out of bed. She’s gentle, her movements slow as she helps put her legs up. Piper winces in pain as she moves her body. Kate reaches over, picking up the IV bag and hanging it on the pole sticking off the chair. She wheels Piper out the room towards an elevator.

“When did you hear?” Piper asks.

“Hear what?”

“That I was alive?”

“I was about to get on a plane back to DC. I turned around at the gate,” Kate says, pushing her into the elevator.

“Why?” Piper asks, watching Kate press the button to the basement. Kate sighs.

“I don’t know.” There’s silence as the doors close and the elevator starts to move. “I didn’t know what I was going to do. I just had to see for myself.”

“I thought I was going to die,” she says again. She doesn’t know if Kate is going to say anything and she doesn’t get a chance as the elevator stops and doors open. New people get in. Piper straightens up in the wheelchair. The rest of the ride goes in silence until they’re on the ground floor.

“You didn’t have to come. You had no reason to come,” Piper says as she gets pushed out the elevator. Kate follows the signs for the morgue.

“I did,” Kate says without elaborating further. Piper stays silent as she’s pushed into the morgue. Kate talks to the doctor flashing her fancy CIA badge and before she knows it Piper is being pushed through to one of the main rooms. Kate stops her outside one of the fridges.

She goes over looking at the piece of paper in her hand before opening one of the fridge drawers. Kate pulls the tray out with a covered body, checking the toe tag.

“Here,” she says, stepping back. Piper is holding her breath. She pulls the tarp back. She sighs as the face and chest is revealed to her.

“It’s not him,” she says. Fear rises in her. He’s alive, of course he is. Kate looks confused picking up a nearby chart.

“No look, the DNA and dental records match.” She shows her the clipboard. Piper nods.

“It’s not him.” She wheels back in the chair using her free hand to turn herself.

“Pass me a scalpel,” she says, pointing over at a table.

“What? So you can desecrate a corpse?”

“So I can prove this is not him.” Piper winces as she tries to push on the wheels to move herself forward. Kate sighs, putting her hand out to stop her. She walks over to the equipment pulling a drawer open and coming back with a scalpel and gloves.

Dr. Piper sighs, using all her energy to pull herself using the body tray. She stumbles and Kate reaches out to grab her.

“No!” she snaps, catching herself before she falls. Her eyes dart up to Kate. “Sorry, I got it.”

Kate nods, stepping back to her original position. Piper steadies herself, straightening her body and pulling the gloves on. Pain radiates down her arms. This was going to hurt. She brings the scalpel down to his midsection.

She presses it down and drags it, letting it dig into the skin. She looks up at Kate who swallows, bringing her hand up to her mouth. Blood pools down. She goes back to make the incision deeper, which is harder to do with only one eye and one arm. As soon as she’s through the skin and muscle she can see the organs.

Stomach, liver, intestines. She sticks her hand in feeling round the stomach. There’s nothing there. She starts to feel round the intestines. She feels a lump and smiles.

“You might want to cover your mouth for this,” she says looking up at Kate, who nods, stepping back. Piper holds her breath as she starts to cut through the intestine where she feels the lump. She can’t hold her breath for long and eventually she lets out a long breath. The smell of decaying flesh fills her nose. She reaches in and presses on the organ until something pops out. She smiles picking it up and holding the large tablet sized object between her thumb and finger.

“What is it?” Kate asks, trying not to gag.

“Another invention of yours truly. It secretes the DNA of whoever you chose into your system. Can trick most coroners,” Piper explains, dropping it into a kidney dish.“What about the dental records?” Kate asks.

“They’re fake records. One of the easiest things to do,” Piper says, sitting back down and rubbing her forehead with the back of her arm. “You really do have no idea what we were working on.”

“So what happens when the coroner finds that?” Kate asks.

“It’s a foreign object. That or try to explain the fringe technology inside it,” Piper says looking over at her.

“How—what—how did this happen?”

“You mean how did we create it or how did this end up inside him?” Piper asks, sitting back down in the wheelchair, her body throbbing from standing.

“How did it end up in that body? Where is Professor Hale?” Kate asks, coming round the body towards her.

“I don’t know. Hale must have managed to slip it into someone before he left the area.” Piper looks up at Kate and sighs. “We used to do it all the time, why do you think Hale managed to get away with all the deaths? How do you think Dr. Anderson managed to slip past the security checks and get on a military base?”

“Why?” Kate asks. She seems taken back by the whole thing. Piper shrugs.

She starts taking her gloves off. “Why was the DOD even willing to get involved in this project?”

“Honestly, Hale was a security threat. It was in the government's best interest to work with him rather than against him,” Kate says.

“Other than the super soldier speech, what did he promise?” Piper asks. Kate looks around the room stepping closer to her.

“We really shouldn’t talk about it here. Let’s sort your discharge out.”

“What about this?” Piper asks, nodding at the body on the tray. Her own body feeling suddenly heavy, her chest sore. She needs to stock up on some painkillers before she leaves

“I’ll need to make a few calls,” Kate says, pushing the body back into the fridge before coming behind her wheelchair and pushing her out the room.

“Is General Shepherd still keeping an eye on things?” Piper asks.

“Yes. He thinks I’m here to ID your body. He doesn’t know you’re alive. I thought if you had any chance of seeing the omega again, it’s best if they think you’re dead,” Kate says as Piper smiles, throwing her gloves in the medical waste.

“Thank you.”

“I didn't do it for you,” Kate says. She walks around Piper pressing the button on the elevator. Piper swallows as Kate looks back at her.

“What about John? Does he know?” Piper asks. She feels like she’s not going to like the answer.

“No, the only person who knows is me, which is why we need to get you out of here quickly before people start asking questions. Like; who is the Jane Doe and why do her wounds heal so quickly?” Kate says, pushing her into the elevator.

“I just need some crutches and pain relief, then we can leave,” Piper says feeling suddenly guilty.

“Okay, I’ll look for a doctor. You just get ready to leave. We’ve got a long trip back to Virginia,” Kate says, pushing her back to her room in silence. Both her legs are broken and she has no idea how long it’s going to take to heal.

She’s lucky she’s even alive. She should be dead. Lost vision in her left eye, broken left arm and dislocated shoulder, both legs broken, 4 ribs, and a pelvic fracture. Honestly, considering she had a whole building fall on her, she’s lucky.

The burns will take the longest to heal. Her skin is littered with them. Most of the damage seems to be on her left side. At least that’s her non-dominant side. She almost died on the way to the hospital, crush syndrome and a collapsed lung. A few more minutes and she would have been dead.

She wheels herself to her chart at the end of the bed pulling it out. She can see her x-rays. Her whole body is fucked. This is going to take months to heal. Maybe her eye will never heal. She deserves that.

She should be dead. She’s not dead and neither is Hale.

Her sacrifice was for nothing.

She should have died, so should have Hale. You’re never going to be safe with him still after you. She needs to tell John.

2 weeks later

Kate’s house is nice.

Kate’s wife is nice.

Virginia is nice.

She should be dead.

Her body is healing, slower than normal, but it’s healing. Her arm healed first and then one of her legs. Her other leg and ribs are taking the longest. The left side of her body seemed to take the worst beating. She has burns running up her arm and leg. Her stomach is covered in scars and bruises.

She still cannot see out of her left eye, but she’s used to it by now. Kate and her wife—Hannah—are patient people, mashing up her food so she can swallow it better. Making sure she’s in the guest room on the ground floor.

They’re too nice. She’s been trying to help Kate as much as she can. She brings intel from work. They’re trying to track down Hale but so far nothing. Piper had spent her time trying to figure out how this happened. How they both managed to survive. Hale was on the top floor, he only had the roof fall on him. Piper had 2 floors and a roof fall on her.

You’re in the UK, Scotland. You’re safe, safer than you’ll ever be. It’s good that they don’t know where Hale is. As soon as they find out and tell Shepherd, he’ll want to send 141 after him. Kate still seems to be confused why Shepherd seems to be so instant on 141 being involved. Hale’s not that big of a threat anymore.

His houses have been destroyed. He can't start up another lab without alerting the US government. There’s no more chemical. The only way to get a sample would be to reverse engineer it, but that would require the omega and she’s safe.

There is little news from John but the news she has heard has been good. She knew you would like Scotland. You love the outdoors, you love nature. You’re safe and you deserve to be safe. She knew John would keep you safe.

Kate comes home around 6pm. She comes through to the kitchen where Hannah is cooking something she’s been working on for the last hour or so. They kiss, and Kate spies Piper out the corner of her eye.

“Long day?” Hannah asks as Piper shifts at the kitchen table. She’s been surrounded by all the paperwork Kate has bought and there will be more. It’s a good thing though; the quicker Piper can figure out what’s going on the safer you will be.

“More for you,” Kate says, emptying her bag on the table.

“They still don’t suspect you’re stealing classified documents?” Piper asks.

“You’d be surprised how easy it is if you know the right people,” Kate says, turning to go back to the kitchen. Piper is about as qualified to find him as the CIA are. They thought maybe he would go back to the bunker in Michigan, but nope. His apartment in Manhattan was seized and searched. Nothing. He hasn’t been back there since.

Officially he’s dead; he and Piper both are. According to the CIA, the autopsies were enough for the DOD to wipe their hands with the matter. They both died in the building explosion. Unofficially they’re keeping tabs on him: he's faked death once before, and he could do it again. It sounds like Kate has been drip feeding Shepherd the idea of Hale surviving the explosion. The autopsy reports are valid though—well if you squint and don’t know what you’re looking at.

She looks over the documents. More random info, most of it useless data from tracking Hale’s personal devices, credit cards that sort of thing. Then there are the document’s Piper has come to call the pointless updates. Mainly contact with 141 or more specifically John. He doesn’t say much, keeps things as vague as possible. They’re only doing it so Kate knows where they all are.

Piper soaks the words up though. You’re never mentioned, unless Kate is hiding something from her. It feels like things are moving in slow motion. She feels no closer to finding out where Hale might be hiding, or if he’s even still in the US. It would help if Piper could remember all the aliases he would use but that's a lot of information she can’t remember.

‘We’d know if he left the country,’ Kate said at one point. ‘Facial recognition.’ It doesn't give Piper much hope. There are plenty of ways to sneak out of a country. He could be half way across the globe, he could be closer to you than they think. Piper sighs, scanning over the pointless documents Kate bought. No activity on his cards, no use of his passport. Piper is pretty sure he would have a new phone by now. Looking at that page was not even worth her time.

Piper starts packing the documents away as Kate comes back over to the table with a bowl of salad.

“What are the chances Professor Hale wants the omega?” Kate asks. Piper looks up at her. She hardly ever talks about work at home. Hannah tries to keep the house a work free zone. She went on a rant about not bringing work home with her when Piper first arrived. That made her feel like she was intruding on their personal space. She was, but Hannah didn’t seem to mind that much, at least not when it really came down to it.

“If he wants more of the chemical he needs her,” Piper says, keeping it simple. No need to spend the next few hours talking Kate’s ear off about reverse engineering a formula. Piper hands her the documents and she takes them, dumping them in a pile with the rest.

“What makes her special? Why not come after you? Or John?”

Piper hears Hannah audibly sigh as she places a plate down in front of Piper who thanks her while watching Kate’s eyes follow her wife back into the kitchen.

“She’s special, she’s an omega. The only omega,” Piper says. She’s not sure how much detail she wants to go into, especially around Hannah.

“Why not make another one?” Kate asks, sitting down as Hannah comes back to the table with 2 more plates of food. Piper looks at her. She just sighs as she sits down pulling the salad bowl up to her. Kate nods like she’s just been given silent permission to continue the conversation.

“He tried. Omegas are very rare apparently. Out of all the people he used the formula on, she was the only omega.”

“There has to be more eventually though right?” Kate asks. Piper looks down at the food picking her fork up. Guilt washes over her. She hasn’t been completely honest with them. With the omega, John or any of them. She pushes the lasagna round the plate as she musters the courage to tell Kate.

“There was another. Another omega,” Piper says, looking over at Kate who spoons salad onto her plate. She frowns, tipping her head. Piper clears her throat.

“Hale, he had a daughter, a biological daughter. She was the first. It was early days, so early that the formula was unstable. For Betas and Alphas it was fine but for some reason the dramatic physical transformation for omegas was just too much.” Piper looks over at Hannah whose eyes are digging into her. She looks back to Kate then to her plate. This isn’t exactly dinner time conversation. Not that Piper’s hungry anymore anyway.

“What happened?” Kate asks, encouraging her to continue.

“He tried to stabilise it. We tried everything. By the end she was just too weak, her body couldn’t handle it. I think it was her death that broke him,” Piper says. She remembers her well. She was only 17 when she died, alone, scared and in pain. Piper spent years pushing her to the furthest recesses of her mind. She wasn’t going to let her death turn her like it did to Hale.

“Vanessa. He named her after his first wife; she died in childbirth. After that something snapped in him. He left the bunker for 2 years. When he came back he had a new omega.” Piper clears her throat again. She doesn’t get to cry. She doesn’t get to mourn for Vanessa. She did that years ago.

“Does John know?” Kate asks.

Piper shakes her head. She forks some food in her mouth but it tastes of nothing. Kate sighs.

“So what happened then?” she asks. Piper looks back up at her. She can’t tell what Kate is thinking. Maybe it's best that she doesn’t know.

You’re not one of the good guys. She reminds herself.

“He dedicated all his time to perfecting the formula. He thought the new omega would suffer the same fate but she didn’t. She lived and she kept living despite all the odds. He hated that. He despised the fact that she lived and his daughter died,” Piper says. She thinks back to you, how he would talk about you when you were not around. You would never be perfect for him. He would plan your death on a near daily basis but could never bring himself to do it.

Maybe that was the only mercy you ever got from him, his refusal to lose another omega. You were worth more to him alive then you were dead.

Piper fell in love with you though, so much so that as soon as Hale made plans to claim you she knew she had to get you out.

“What happened to his daughter?” Kate asks.

“Multisystem organ failure, her kidneys went first then—”

“No I mean did he bury her? Cremate her?” Piper looks at Kate confused.

“He buried her. In Florida, she always wanted to see—” Piper lets out a gasp. The fork falls out Piper's hand crashing onto the plate. Kate looks over at Hannah. “He’s going to dig her up. He can get a sample of her DNA. He could create a new formula.”

There’s silence in the room. Piper looks round at Kate and Hannah. They’re both looking at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Is that even possible?” Hannah asks, eventually snapping Kate and Piper out of their heads.

“Unfortunately yes,” Piper says, picking her fork up again even though she’s lost her appetite.

“Then he wouldn’t need to go after the omega right?” Kate asks. Piper’s not sure how to answer. He still needs you. Getting DNA from a corpse is not as easy as a living person.

“He always needs her,” Piper says, forcing food into her mouth. “She’s never going to be safe until Hale is dead.”

The Shadow digging dumps dirt at his feet. He kicks it off his shoes. There’s no way this was going to work. It was a long shot but it was easier than running round the world chasing after the omega. Cheaper too.

It’s dark, late evening. Hale’s house is secluded on the coast a few miles away from anyone let alone a town. Deep through the Everglades on the west coast. He’s lucky the only way in is by hovercraft or boat, and the only 2 people who knew this place existed are now dead.

It’s a good place to hide out. He’s not here to hide though; he’s here for something. Well someone.

“Is there an institution you don’t have your fingers in?” Commander Graves asks, hanging up his phone call and walking to stand next to him.

“Scandinavia’s hard. So many rules, they like to follow rules,” Hale says. Graves chuckles watching his men work.

“Anything new with the CIA?” Hale asks.

“They found Piper Montgomery’s body. Kate Laswell was there to ID it in person.”

“Why?” Hale asks, confused, looking at Graves.

“No idea. We know it’s her though. They’re still under the impression you’re dead, too, by the way.”

“Good, at least I know I’m getting my money's worth,” Hale sighs, crossing his arms. Graves moves over to look at the Shadows digging in the garden. Hale’s other homes had already been searched by the CIA and FBI. They didn't find anything of course; there is nothing to find. His labs have been destroyed. Now there is just his holiday home left, and he doesn’t even have a proper lab to work with. It’s going to make things a lot harder.

He always wanted to bring Vanessa here when she was alive. She was always so sick though, it would have been too risky to move her from Michigan down here. She most likely would never have survived the journey.

She always wanted to see the ocean.

“When do you think I will receive the rest of the compensation?” Graves asks as more Shadows come over with shovels. He should have marked her grave.

“A few days. Still waiting for my accountant to move some pieces around,” he sighs. Of course he would be hounding him about money.

“I lost good men that day, they had families too,” Graves says. Hale can hear the anger in his voice.

“You’ll get your revenge on 141. I already promised you that,” Hale sighs.

“We know where they are now—”

“Do you want the formula or not?” Hale snaps. He promised it to Graves and all of Shadow company as a bonus for keeping his ‘status’ secret. They just had to find the body first.

141 did a good job of destroying everything he had. Blowing the place—that had to be Dr. Montgomery's idea. He didn’t think she would actually go through with it. He thought she would be too selfish, to want to survive for the omega. He judged her wrong. Doesn’t matter; she’s dead, but now he has no formula and Graves has to find more staff.

“Here!” someone shouts from behind Hale. He turns around to see someone's head sticking out of a hole. As they both walk over he wipes his head with the back of his hand. Hale looks down into the hole. There it is, the wooden coffin. He looks at the Shadow and nods.

Commander Graves starts shouting orders as Hale takes a step back. This is it. He has no idea the state her body will be in but he expects it to be a skeleton. At least then it might be easier to stomach. He reaches into his coat pocket pulling out a cigar.

If there was one thing his holiday home had an abundance of, it was proper Cuban cigars and rum. He took his clipper out in his hands, shaking as the Shadows excavated the ground around the coffin. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Hale watches, reaching into his pocket for his lighter as he sucks air through the cigar. He can taste the woody tones, the tobacco. It calms his nerves slightly. He lights it up just as the dirt is almost completely removed from the wooden coffin.

Someone comes over with a crowbar. Hale is still shaking. He hears the sounds of the wood creaking as they break the top off. There are groans and moans, some of disgust as the lid pops off. Hale swallows hard and walks over looking at the remains. It's only the bottom half of the coffin that has been taken off but he can see the leg and feet bones. Some of the dress he buried her in is still intact, it was a nice summer dress with yellow flowers on it. In the spotlight it just looks like worn browns and greys.

“If there’s a God, I would start begging for forgiveness,” Graves says as he crosses his arms. Hale takes a long puff of his cigar. There’s no God, and if there was he doesn’t want his forgiveness.

He’s going to change the world, cure diseases, and create an unstoppable fighting force. His formula will change the world. The he’ll sell it for millions, tens of millions. He needs to perfect it first though.

This is his last chance. If he can’t synthesise a copy from her DNA he has to go after the omega. He turns looking at more people coming over with a body bag and other tools.

“Try to keep her in one piece,” Hale says, taking a step away. Another long puff of his cigar to calm his nerves.

“Think it will work? You’ll be able to recreate the formula?” Graves asks him.

“Let me worry about the science. You keep track of the omega and 141. We still might need them,” Hale says, straightening up and turning to head back to his house. Graves follows him leaving the Shadows to continue to excavate the body.

“Nice place you have here,” Phillip says, going to sit on one of the sofas in the living room. Hale sighs, walking over to the bar.

“What’s your poison?” Hale asks without turning around. Phillip closes the door muting the sounds of the ocean.

“Whisky,” Phillip replies. Hale picks up a bottle and pours them both glasses.

“Single malt scotch. 15 years old,” Hale says, handing him a glass. Phillip straightens up accepting the glass. “I get it flown in especially, all the way from the Scottish Highlands.”

“Can’t be cheap,” Philip says, holding his glass up before taking a sip. Hale takes a long puff of his cigar before taking a drink.

“141 have a scotsman. Sergeant John MacTavish,” Hale says letting the alcohol burn his throat. “Maybe he’ll give me a few bottles before I kill him.”

“You’re really going to go after the 141?” Phillip says, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m going after the omega. 141 are in the way,” Phillip sighs, finishing the rest of his drink and getting up to go back to the bar. He picks up the bottle, swilling it around before bringing it back over to the coffee table.

“You’ve dealt with them before,” Hale says as he finishes his glass placing it down on the coffee table.

“A couple of times. They know what they're doing. They have allies. I wouldn’t recommend fighting them on their home ground,” Phillip says, opening the bottle and refilling the glasses.

“Where are they?” Hale asks.

“Canada. At least that’s where they were before they got a flight,” Phillip says, closing the bottle and leaning back. Hale nods, taking a long drag of his cigar.

“Where did they go?”

“Back to the UK we think.”

“You think?”

“If they went back to the UK the last movement we have is Heathrow airport.”

“London?” Hale asks, reaching over and picking up his glass. He looks at the dark oak coloured liquid swilling it around.

“Yeah. I would send someone over but I don’t know where to start.”

“How about London then work your way up,” Hale says a little harsher than he means.

“You’re not paying me to find the omega or take on 141,” Phillip reminds him.

“What would that cost me?” Hale asks downing his drink. Phillip laughs.

“More than you could afford,” Phillip scoffs, shaking his head.

“Money’s no object,” Hale replies quickly. Graves sighs leaning forward in the chair.

“We can protect you against 141. But if they want you bad then you better be prepared. I hope this omega of yours is worth it,” Phillip says getting up heading to the door.

“These violent delights have violent ends,” Hale calls leaning forward and stopping Graves in his tracks.

“I flunked English,” Phillip says throwing his hands up, exasperated, letting out a long sigh. Hale gets up picking up his glass and walking over to Graves. He presses himself right up to his face but Phillip doesn’t flinch. It makes Hale smile.

He knew he picked the right guy.

“Get me the omega and I'll make sure the 141 are never a problem again,” Hale says, pressing a finger into his chest.

“Give us the formula and I will deal with the 141 myself.”

Hale chuckles, stepping back and taking a sip of his drink. They’re locked looking at each other eye to eye. Hale’s not going to back down, neither is Graves.

“Professor?” A voice calls behind them. Hale turns to look at the Shadow standing in the living room. “Where do you want the body?” he asks, sounding nervous as Hale walks towards him. He looks back over at Graves, chuckling.

“In the basement, there’s a walk-in freezer,” Hale says, waving the Shadow away. He turns back to look at Graves downing the rest of his drink.

“Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet.”

“That ended in tragedy,” Graves says coldly.

“Exactly,” Hale replies looking back out to his dug up backyard.

1 week later

It had been a long week.

Piper wanted to go to Florida straight away but her other leg needed to heal first. Her ribs were still messed up but at least she can walk without crutches now. Still no sight in her left eye, and at this point she’s convinced it's permanent. She’s also come to discover her hearing on her left side is also dulled.

She could really use a trip to the hospital for x-rays at least. She can’t risk it getting out that she's alive though. The burns will take months to heal. Her skin will have to rebuild itself on top of layers of scars. At least when she wears long sleeves no one can see anything. According to some intel from Kate, Shadow Company are still after the omega. They’ve put feelers out for her and they’re keeping an eye on Kate.

‘Course they are, Hale’s still paying them,’ Piper snapped at Kate. It’s not her fault. There’s just not much they can do. Kate has a contact in Key West, someone who can confirm the rumours or not. No one but Piper and Anderson knew about Hale’s Florida home. Anderson is definitely dead, Hale is still out there.

“What if he’s not here?” Kate asks as they’re driving the last few miles to the Naval base.

“He’ll be here. He needs Vanessa. It’s the only way he can get omega DNA without chasing down the omega,” Piper says.

“There was one Shadow in Canada,” Kate says, Piper's head snaps over to look at her.

“Do you think they will follow them to the UK?” Piper asks.

“They could.”

“Does John know?”

“John knows Graves is still after them,” Kate sighs.

“When are you going to tell him about everything?” Piper asks. John should know; he should know what they know at least. It’s been almost a month since they blew up Hale’s house in Seattle.

“I’m not. Not until we have a plan. It’s best for everyone, it’s risky to try and contact them right now,” Kate says.

“They should know. They can’t protect her if they don’t know what's going on,” Piper says. Would they care knowing she was still alive? Would they let her see you again? Piper looks over at Kate.

“She’s safe. She’s in the best place she can be. If we try to contact them we could put her at risk.”

“You said there were Shadows in Canada, they could be in the UK already,” Piper snaps.

“That's what we're here to find out,” Kate says back. Piper can hear the rising anger in her voice. “As soon as we can confirm Professor Hale is alive and your assumption is correct, then I will contact John.”

“What if you’re too late?” Piper asks, gripping her seat belt. She doesn’t agree with Kate yet. Kate came when she asked, she looked after her but Piper wants to contact John. If Kate is right then she needs to wait. But if there are already Shadows on the way then you could be in danger.

Piper lets out a long sigh. Kate is right. No one knows where you are. There’s no point in worrying you or your pack. They will protect you until the bitter end, there is nowhere on earth safer than where you are now.

The car drives up to the entrance of the base. A soldier comes over and Kate rolls down her window handing him her badge and a letter. He looks over at Piper and after a few seconds nods handing everything back to Kate.

“First turn to the left and you'll see the visitors centre,” he says. Kate thanks him and they wait for the gate to open.

“How do you know we can trust this guy?” Piper asks as Kate parks up.

“We can trust him,” Kate says, getting out of the car. Piper follows, feeling exposed. Maybe someone would recognise her and give her away. She shakes her head. There’s no way anyone will recognise her. Piper follows Kate into the building as Kate introduces them and they’re given visitor passes.

They sit down on some chairs. They’re not waiting long before a young looking man walks round the corner. Kate stands up as the man hugs her.

“Good to see you again, Laswell,” he says, breaking from the hug and looking over at Piper.

“Alex, this is an associate of mine, Laura.” Piper extends her hand so the man, Alex, can shake it. He nods at her and gestures for them to follow him.

“How’s Farah?” Kate asks as they walk to an empty conference room.

“She’s good. I was surprised you reached out. I was about to head back,” Alex says, closing the door behind Piper. Kate waits a few seconds letting Alex talk about his visit back home. Piper just wants to get this over and done with. The quicker they can get answers the quicker they can make a plan and tell John.

“Graves is here,” Alex says before Kate can talk. “He’s been out doing training exercises in the Everglades.”

Kate sighs. “Why?” she asks looking over at Piper. Alex smiles, turning around and picking up a folder.

“This is everything I have. I assume most of it you already know.”

Kate takes the file flicking through it. Piper leans over to look, it doesn’t look like there’s a lot in there.

“I saw the bounty, you could do alot with 50 thousand,” Alex says. “It was sent internally, Shadow Company only.”

“Where is she then? This omega everyone is getting excited over?” Alex asks. It makes a pit form in Piper's stomach.

“Classified,” Kate says.

Alex smiles, crossing his arms, he reminds Piper of Johnny.

“How’s 141? I thought they would have been with you,” Alex says.

“We’re not joined at the hip you know,” Kate says smiling and closing the folder. “They’re on leave.”

“Well, if you need anything else you know where to find me. Why are you so interested in Phillip anyway?” Alex asks.

“It’s not him, it’s who he’s working for.”

“Ah, I see, all I know is his name is Christian—”

“Christian Lumbrage?” Piper asks, Kate shows her the folder. She can see the name. It’s him, it’s Hale, one of his pseudonyms. Piper gives Kate a glance, hopefully she will understand. Kate closes the folder, putting it under her arm.

“You’ve been a great help. Next time you’re in town we should catch up,” Kate says, making a move for the door.

“I would love to, Farah keeps me busy though,” he says chuckling as he reaches over to open the door for Kate. Piper follows them out listening to them talk about how things are going in Urzikstan. She doesn’t care though; she wants to get word to John.

Kate shakes Alex’s hand and he turns to Piper.

“It was nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand to Piper who shakes it. He really does remind her of Johnny. She smiles then follows Kate back out to the car. Piper doesn’t say a word until Kate starts driving.

“What now?” Piper asks. She hopes this is it. Now they can let John know what they know. But maybe Kate won’t tell him.

“I’ll tell John what we know,” Kate says.

Piper looks over at her.

“Will you tell him about me?” Piper asks. She’s being selfish but she wants John to know she’s alive at least.

“I’ll tell him but you’re going to go to them,” Kate says. Piper's breath catches in her throat and she snaps to look at Kate, her hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Go where?” she asks but she feels like she already knows the answer.

“To the UK, I’ll tell them you’re coming.”

“Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“I don’t know, but the omega needs you,” Kate says.

“She has her pack, she doesn’t need me,” Piper says, dipping her head. She should be dead. She should have died in the collapse.

“John needs you. She needs you.”

“They want a cure,” Piper snaps back. She’s not quite sure why she is so angry with Kate. Maybe it's the nerves. The nerves that John is going to find out she’s alive and what he will say or do. Maybe he won’t let her near the omega again.

“I didn't come back for you. I’m not doing this for you,” Kate says back. There’s hostility in her voice. “I did this for John and the omega. She deserves a chance at life. You’re the only person who can do that.”

There’s silence in the car. Piper looks out at the road ahead. Maybe Kate was right but John did leave her to die. He has all her research. He doesn’t need her any more.

“If it was up to me, you and Hale would both be facing punishment for the crimes you’ve committed,” Kate says. There’s definitely a spitefulness in her voice.

“We will. One day,” Piper sighs.

“If you live that long,” Kate scoffs.

She should have died.

Piper thinks back to the building collapse. She doesn’t remember much, just being woken by the search team looking for survivors. She would have died if no one had come looking. Slowly and painfully suffocating, her organs falling one by one as she bled out internally.

If they were just a few hours later, even just a few minutes later she would have died.

“We’ll head up to Miami, I'll make the call, book the flight. When you land in the UK I'll give you their address,” Kate says, quickly looking behind her. “In the front pocket of the suitcase is your new identity.”

Piper reaches back pulling out a brand new US passport and opens it up.

“Laura Miller,” Piper says.

“Who’s going to see her extended family in Scotland. As soon as you get back to the 141 they’ll take care of the rest. Until then you’ll be on your own,” Kate says,

Piper nods, closing the passport.

“Thank you, really, for everything,” Piper says. She’s projecting her scent for Kate not that it matters; she won’t be able to smell it.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Kate reiterates, letting out a sigh. At least she seems calmer.

Piper smiles and looks out at the ocean as they drive back to the mainland. She’s going to see you again. At least there is one good thing coming out of this.

John is woken by the buzzing of his phone. He turns. You’re sleeping against his chest. You’re still here, sleeping in his arms. He thought it would be months before you would forgive him, but you’re stronger than you think. He smiles, picking up the phone and squinting to see the name. It’s Kate.

He slowly pushes you off his chest. You mumble something incoherent before latching onto his pillow. He shushes you before tiptoeing out of the room as quietly as he can. As soon as he’s out the door he answers the call.

“How’s the vacation going?” Kate's voice comes through the line.

“Can’t complain.” He smiles looking through the crack in the door at you.

“Got some news, you might want to be sitting down for this,” Kate says.

John’s body tenses. There's silence on the line; he's not sure what to say.

“Professor Hale is alive. The bounty on the omega—it’s from him. He’s working out of Florida with Shadow Company. Officially he died in the house collapse.”

John lets out a sigh pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We knew something like this could happen,” he says in a low voice trying to keep quiet, quiet and calm.

“I managed to get some intel from Alex before he went back to Urzikstan, I’ll send it over.”

“Keller was in the US?” John says shifting his weight. It had been a while since he checked in with Farah. What if something was wrong?

“Visiting family. He’s already on his way back,” Kate says.

He lets out a sigh. The last thing they need is to be moving around right now, but if Farah needed help, they would have to drop everything and go.

“Does Shepherd know?” John asks.

“No, no one knows just you. Alex got the intel on Graves for me, but he doesn’t know why,” Kate explains. She’s done good again, got the intel and kept it quiet. Now John will have something to work with. Any intel is useful at this point.

“Good work. Do you think Graves is going to be a problem?” he asks.

“I think they have their hands pretty tied right now. They don’t know where you are, you’re safe, for now,” Kate says. John knows she’s right but at the same time he knows an invisible timer has started. At some point they will have to move. For now they need to figure out how much time they have left.

“There’s one more thing John,” Kate says. He can hear a change in her voice and it makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He waits for her to talk.

“Professor Hale was not the only one to survive the building collapse. Dr. Montgomery survived too.”

John holds his breath, his eyes widening. She’s alive.

“She contacted me while she was recovering in the hospital. She was the one who figured out where Hale is and what he’s up to,” Kate continues. John swallows hard looking back in his room. You’re still sleeping cuddling up against his pillow.

It’s taken you almost a month to get over her death, and now she’s alive.

“Where is she?” John asks, his voice hard as he takes in the information.

“She’s on a flight to London. She should be with you within the next 24 hours,” Kate says.

“She’s coming here?”

“Hale and her survived. They both officially died in that building explosion. We know Hale is alive but we assume he doesn’t know Piper is alive. We have an advantage here. She’ll be safer with you,” Kate explains. That is good news at least. John looks back at you. This is going to be rough. How will he explain it?

“Tell her to go to the rendezvous location, not the house. I’ll pick her up,” John says. “Of course.” There's silence on the line again. John can hear his own heart beating in his ears. He looks behind him at Simon’s room. He almost wants to wake Simon up and tell him. Get his opinion on the whole thing. Shit. Simon liked her. How was he going to react?

“I’ll go. You know how to contact me if you need anything. I’ll get those files sent ASAP,” Kate says. John can hear her mumbled speech and the clicking of a lighter. She must be away from home.

“See you Kate, and thank you,” he says, hanging up. Now he wants a cigarette, a cigar, a glass of whisky, anything to quell the nerves. How was he going to break it to you? Piper is alive, Hale is alive. They had changed nothing. If anything, they just poked the hornet's nest.

Piper is alive, Hale is alive but thinks Piper is dead. Legally they are both dead. That’s positive and John plans on taking full advantage of it.

He toes open the door of his room. You’re still sleeping. You just got settled and now your world is going to be turned upside down again. At least this time you don’t hate him and he can be there for you.

Next Beta reader and editor - rememberwren Dividers by gild-ui & plum98

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starly-amazing · 3 months ago

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Well hello there, Stardust! I feel like I'm in a bit of a predicament and something tells me it's your fault｡:✧˚*:･｡

-Releases another dragon(adjacent) Loop into the wild-

I commissioned the lovely @nycroshears to draw Loop as a Rukemi; one of my OC species that I'm shoving in an AU I've been working on! An AU that started out as a scene that popped in my head when I was falling asleep of a rukemi grabbing Siffrin by the scruff and making them confess to their family...which turned into a massive AU I've been outlining for weeks now.

Rukemis as a species idea are nearing 20 years old at this point! I think it's past time I debut them in more than a few commissions thrown into the uncaring void of tumblr every few years. I'm not going to talk too much about them now; that'll be revealed in the AU itself!

Some more info about Rukemis + closeups below. (ISAT SPOILERS)

Fun facts about rukemis!

They're from a parallel Earth where the meteor that killed the dinosaurs glided past harmlessly.

They're descended from troodonts about 67-68mya who had a whack mutation that caused their front limbs to duplicate. They were very useless at first but others of the species found them SO ATTRACTIVE they ended up thriving and the wings over time evolved to be functional. So they are theropod dinosaurs, like t-rexes, velociraptors, and modern birds.

They evolved sapience not long before humans did after a smaller extinction event wiped out biodiversity in habitats adjacent to their native range.

Before they were relatively unassuming small tree-dwelling creatures similar to primates but with the bonus ability to fly. But with the new free real estate some of them branched out and rapidly evolved much larger sizes and intelligence comparable to our own. Now, they're roughly the size of small horses and stand about as tall as us when they're standing on all fours.

Now, parallel to our Earths, they exist a few hundred years more technologically "advanced" than us.

Their societal development was similar to ours at the start, including the destruction of their Earth's ecosystem, wars, oppression, and other fun things. But after ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ and ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ they mana▮ed to ▮▮▮▮ from the ▮▮▮s and bu▮▮d a ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮.

It was after they got their collective ▮▮▮▮ together that they gained the power to ▮▮▮▮▮▮ to other ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮▮, ma▮▮▮▮▮▮▮e ▮▮▮▮▮nts, h▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮ds, and ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ their ▮▮▮▮▮ into ▮▮▮▮▮ sop▮▮▮▮s upon ▮▮▮▮▮.

Now, many rukemis spend their lives trying to ▮▮▮▮ other ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ not ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮ up like ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮.

Their designs were based on ▮▮▮▮ from ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮ and originally looked like your standard middle-schooler's white wolf rainbow wings + horns OC that you can see (here), but after 20ish years of workshopping they're now their own dragon dinosaur species (and are much, much gayer). This design is the most accurate and all others in the link are older versions.

They have three main sexes that are impossible to tell apart at a glance and have a much looser and queerer relationship to "gender" and family.

They generally live in family units of 3-8 adults + their children (now, often including humans and other sophonts) and have a much more relaxed & shifting hierarchy than humans generally do.

They are nice, and soft and warm.

Enter Loop, just a normal rukemi who just wanted to live a normal life as an astronomer working to discover extraterrestrial life on other planets (because finding life on parallel Earths just wasn't cool enough for them). After an ▮▮▮▮▮▮ by a ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮▮▮, they were thrown into the world of SASASAAP and eventually runs into Loop Siffrin struggling through their time loops all alone.

Originally, I created a random rukemi to aid ISAT Siffrin through the loops and join the family after they broke free of them. But after developing it for a while I realized I had no idea what to do with Loop so I just fused the two into one and tossed them into the Start Again world to help OG Siffrin instead.

(Sorry y'all, this Loop doesn't sparkle as they are made up of flesh and blood and not pure craft energy. They did get some cool "tattoos" some time before coming to SASASA:AP world looking like a celestial being, though! They look like the 2nd image to Siffrin. If they had more time they might found some glitter to make a more theatrical entrance.)

-Adds another "dragon" Loop to the pile-

#isat #in stars and time #isat loop #isat au #rukemi #dragon loop #my shitposts #sasasap #sasasaap #sasasaap loop #isat spoilers #sasasaap spoilers #art by nycroshears and some tweaks by me #because i didn't want to waste 5 hours of their life making them do tiny experimental changes for me fhaiewufh

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stanfordswifey · 4 months ago

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"I'll be here for you, my love"

Ford Pines x reader

You've been in the hospital for 5 years straight, your cancer developing and spreading. The tumor you had ignored had now developed and evolved, spreading to your organs, causing your stage 1 liver tumor to evolve into stage 4 metastasis.

Just yesterday the doctor walked into your room quietly, it was unusual. She had some news to break to you. "I'm afraid you only have a couple more days left. I've told you this before but its any time now, i'm sorry." You smiled at her, noticing the tear falling down her cheek and frown mentally, keeping a fake strong facade. "It's not your fault. I'm glad you tried your.best and never gavs up on me." Your hand curls into a ball under the sheet, doing your best to sray strong. The doctor left soon after, leaving you alone in the room with only your thoughts, your brain wandered 'will i tell ford?' 'Will he be okay?' 'I hope he's going to be fine without me'

You stared mindlessly at the ceiling, thoughts and memories rolling around in your mind like a film for a movie, you curse at the solidarity of your life, eventually falling asleep. You felt pathetic, worthless even, knowing that your husband too busy to even worry about you.

(You eventually fall asleep and wake up the next day)

It was another dreary day at the hospital, the sight of white boring walls and minimalistic decor making you lose your sanity by the minute, not having anything to suppress the agonizing pain you felt in your body.

-ford's pov-

"It has been a while since I last visited them at the hospital"

He murmurs, to no one but himself.

You've been gone for so long, off he visited you time to time, but ultimately focusing on the portal more and more to distract himself from worrying about you too much.

As he was working on his portal, his phone suddenly rang, causing him to jump at the sudden sound, rolling his eyes as he pushes himself away from the table (yk those chairs w wheels he basically just rolled over to the phone LMAO).

He accepts the call, ruffling his hair in frustration.

"Ford Pines here, who is this?"

"Ah, sorry, I'm doctor may here, what is your relationship to (reader)?"

He hums, fidgeting with a machine part with his fingers

"I'm their fiancé, what's wrong?"

The doctor clears her throat on the other line,

"I'm sorry to tell you, their tumor has started to spread to numerous other organs, I fear they don't have much time left.."

Ford feels his stomach drop, his hand loosening.

".."

"I suggest you get them out of the hospital and just spend time together, I'm afraid there isn't much we can do now. It's best to spend time while they're still here"

"..I see, thank you doctor."

The call ended, he immediately drops his phone and covers his face with his hands, tears falling down. They really couldn't do anything now. He didn't know what to do.

That night he spent his time sobbing, thinking of ways to help you, looking for a cure, a remedy, anything to help you, he failed miserably.

After a couple hours of thinking it over and breaking down he decided to pick you up from the hospital and spend time together, if you couldn't be there for the entirety of his life, atleast he'd be there for yours.

A/N

Hi hi!! This was shitty! I havent written anything for a while T~T please do send me some ideas/requests or if I did anything wrong plz do comment it down, also English isn't my first language so It's not perfect, this will be like 2 or 3 parts? I dont know yet but I will update :33 thank you again for reading <33

#idk anymore #bullshitting #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls stanford #meow #random #i love stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #angst #yay #yippee

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metalphoenix · 5 months ago

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Trans Dick Grayson Head canons

He knew from super young that he was a boy. Like he was 3 or 4 telling people he was not a girl. I like to imagine his parents just kind of rolled with it. Like they live in a circus. Being weird is like... a prerequisite or something. Maybe Richard is what they were gonna name him if he had been born male so he chose that then found out that Dick was a nickname of Richard and the rest is history.

All this to say, he'd been living as Dick Grayson for years by the time he met Bruce.

This is how I think Bruce found out. So Dick wasn't born in the United States (no idea if this is canon or not but for the sake of this head canon that is the assumption I am operating under). So it would probably take Bruce a bit to get all of Dick's papers like birth certificates and other forms and he's very confused as to why he got a girls birth certificate?

Dick *walking into Bruce's office*: Hey B

Bruce: Oh good, I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a sister or a female cousin you haven't told me about?

Dick: No???

Bruce: Ok well I'm trying to get all your papers sorted and I think Haly may have sent me the wrong ones because these are for a girl named [insert dead name of choice] Grayson.

Dick: What? No, thats me?

Bruce *now very confused*: What???

Dick *confused at Bruce's confusion*: Ya? I was born [deadname] but thats not my name anymore?

Bruce *realizing this means his new tiny son is trans* hnn

Bruce asks him a few days later if he wants him to change his paperwork so it says Richard Grayson and has his sex marker as M. Dick is kind of confused why it matters but is just like sure?

The Puberty Talk is very awkward on Bruce's front. He ends up talking to Dick about hormone blockers to hold off on puberty for a bit which Dick agrees to. He starts blockers at 11.

At 13 he starts on a low dosage of Testosterone under the guidance of Dr. Tompkins and a pediatric endocrinologist.

Bruce does all of his T shots for him and they make a little event out of it. They day they do the shots they take a night off from patrol and order take out and eat it on the couch while they watch a movie. These are also the only days Alfred lets them eat ice cream straight out of the carton. (Bruce still goes on patrol but only after Dick goes to bed. It wouldn't do to have a very noticeable pattern of days he takes off).

Because of this Dick never goes through female puberty, combine that with the fact that everyone knows Bruce Wayne adopted a son, he's pretty much stealth.

When he's 16 he starts talking to Bruce about getting bottom surgery (he doesn't need top surgery seeing as he never grew breasts). He has all three bottom surgeries over the next year.

I like to think that he just... forgets people don't know. Like it doesn't occur to him that to everyone thats not Bruce, Alfred or Leslie he just looks like a cis dude. Maybe when he's like 17 he goes to pride and wears a trans flag or paints the trans flag on his cheek or something. The papparazi take a photo of him and it becomes Big News.

They hold one press conference to be like "ya I'm a trans guy, I've always been a trans guy. No stop asking about my transition that is private medical information"

He becomes more involved in the trans community after that.

Extra: Maybe he is an olympic athlete as well. obviously he competed in mens gymnastics. Imagine the debates that would cause.

#dc universe #batman #dick grayson #trans dick grayson #i'm sorry this is so long #gotham #bruce wayne #robin dick grayson #ftm dick grayson #haly's circus #testosterone

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gulliblelemon · 6 months ago

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Young Royals Fic Recommendations 3

My reading has slowed down a lot recently as I've been doing more writing. But I've definitely got enough for another (probably too long) rec list! Previous lists are here and here.

As ever, I've tried to include Tumblr usernames. Let me know if I've missed any.

(I also have my own fic list here). And also a Part 4.

Ivy by @unfortunate17 32k words. Complete. Rating E. Wilhelm is a Navy Officer and Simon is a pirate. As usual, they are desperately in love. (Honourable mention to Little Light by the same author).

'Tis the Damn Season by littlebluefish 31k words. Complete. Rating M. Canon divergence from end of Season 1. Simon and Wilhelm are friends. They find their way back to each other.

should've said no (and you might still have me) by @bigalockwood 53k words. Complete. Rating T. When aspiring songwriter Simon Eriksson catches his boyfriend cheating on him, just writing angry break-up songs won’t cut it. And what better way to get back at his ex than to date the guy he’d been eying? This is a story about how Simon seeks revenge… and Wille becomes collateral damage along the way.

A Most Distracting Pair Of Studs by c_violet @peakotp 1k words. Complete. Rating G. Wilhelm discovers a distracting new Simon fact.

esa boquita roja by @grapehyasynth 2k words. Complete. Rating T. He wants to taste Simon’s lip gloss, and then he wants to taste Simon.

always on the tip of my tongue by @royalwilmon 68k. WIP. Rating E. Friends. A decade ago, they could have been more, but that's not what happened. They remained friends. Best friends. Benefits. Because having a best friend who knows you inside and out can have its perks.

Share Your Address by itsme_hi_imtheproblem @iwouldnevergetintofanfic 69k words. Complete. Rating E. Simon and Wille become unlikely roommates. Both of them are surprised when instead they quickly become friends. Just friends. Despite what other people soon start insinuating. Because roommates and romance don't mix, right? (honourable mention to My Bad and Is It Over Now? by the same author).

Coffee Is The Best Midnight Oil by online_campfire_tales 4k words. Complete. Rating G. Simon is an insomniac that spends restless nights on his balcony. Wilhelm is his fellow-insomniac neighbour that feels terrible for making Simon spill his drink. Can I make it any more obvious?

Favours by RubyIntyale @earlgrey-lateatnight 3k words. Complete. Rating E. Wille and Simon are roommates and best friends. Simon has slipped on some ice and broken his wrist. He’s struggling with everyday tasks, but the thing that’s really getting him down is that he can’t get himself off. Wille, kind and considerate friend that he is (and harbouring a secret infatuation), offers to help him out.

Sore Loser by @piebingo 7k words. Complete. Rating T. How Simon (badly) handles seeing Wilhelm fall in love with someone else on a reality TV dating show.

You're The Cutest Jailbird I Ever Did See by @pagegirlintraining and the-amber-fox 7k words. Complete. Rating T. If you asked Simon and Wille, neither of them could tell you exactly how they ended up inside a cell at the Bjärstad police department for getting in a fight with August and his friends. The thing is, neither of them is mad that they ended up there together.

all for the cause by Elin98 @ishotforthestars 10k words. Complete. Rating T. The one where Wille and Simon end up co-hosting Musikhjälpen 2026, raising money for charity and accidentally falling in love in the process. All for the good cause.

at sunrise / al amanecer by emerybemery 1k words. Complete. Rating G. Simon is in love with Wilhelm, but the Prince could never know that. Simon sleeps in the Prince’s bed nearly every night, but he always leaves, at sunrise.

forever i'm yours by @goldenwilmon 22k words. Complete. Rating E. Simon takes a chance when he sees Wilhelm from afar at a party on a January night, sparking an instant connection between them. They spend a year falling in love.

Faroe Gone by @groenendaelfic 36k words. WIP. Rating E. The Queen is dying; parliament is about to name August Horn of Årnäs her successor; and Simon Eriksson is rushing across the ocean armed with nothing but a ten-year-old piece of paper searching for the boy he fell in love with when he was sixteen, or rather the man who is Sweden's rightful next King.

Coffee Dates by sofia_with_an_f 23k words. Complete. Rating T. AU Royal Simon/Commoner Wilhelm. College roommates.

#yr fic rec #yr fanfic #young royals #wilmon #gulliblelemon #lemon recommends

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brynnewithane · 3 months ago

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Kaiju No. 8 Light Novel: Closely Observed! Unit 3 [Translate]

This is an UNOFFICIAL TRANSLATION of the Light Novel Kaiju No. 8. The translation and proofreading were done by me. Since my bias is Hoshina, I only plan to translate his story.

Hoshina's chapter is split into six parts. The following post includes my translation of parts 1 and 2.

***The translation that follows is not translated from the original Japanese, but rather from Vietnamese to English. Since this is my first attempt translating literature and English is not my first language, if there are any parts that seem unnatural or out-of-place please feel free to point them out. I’m open for feedback!👾 ***There are some segments that I've referenced from the translation of Kaiju No. 8: B-Side posted on the Mangaplus website. ***Word count: 2725

Chapter 3: Vice-captain Soshiro Hoshina

[PART 1/6]

“Phew, alright…”

With a soft thud, Hoshina set the stack of papers down on the table and took a deep breath. In his hand was the report on Kikoru’s match from the day before. He was evaluating it, through the lens of a vice-captain.

“Who would’ve thought it’d take this long, huh.”

Finishing off the last sip of his now-cold coffee, Hoshina made his way out of the room. Although work hours were over, he still had other plans await. As he strode down the corridor, he spotted the Metro TV crew heading towards him.

“Director! How’s the filming coming along?

The director nodded in return, “It went pretty well, everyone has been very cooperative after all. Mr. Hoshina, would you mind if we get a few words from you?”

“Me? But I’ve already been around the block though.”

“Ha ha ha. No, I just wanted to ask about the rookies. All of the officers this year are really something. The performance that Officer Shinomiya did yesterday was truly remarkable.”

“Well, that’s ‘cause the West Tokyo entry exam was way tougher this year, probably the hardest we’ve ever had. Plus, there were way more standout talents than usual this time around."

“I see. But now I’m more curious.”

“Curious ‘bout what?”

“It’s about Officer Kafka Hibino. Compared to the others, his basic physical strength seems pretty lacking. Would you mind telling us why he’s accepted to the Defense Force?”

The director couldn't help but wonder; it was no surprise at all. For days Kafka had shown no significant improvement to the crew. Whether it was marksmanship or obstacle courses, he consistently ranked last.

“Of course, we don’t just recruit folks based on combat abilities, y’know? We take a lot of other factors into account too. One of the reasons we accepted Kafka Hibino is…

“Is…?”

“Comic relief!” Hoshina smirked.

“C, comic relief, sir?” Hearing such a response, the director’s eyes widened.

“Novelty, y’know? He’s entertaining does he not? The impulsiveness and silliness and all. I’ve never seen anyone with an unleashed combat power of 0% before, and despite being physically weak, he’s bursting with energy. Not to mention he’s completely oblivious to his true potential, so he kept ended up running around like a headless chicken on the field.”

“T, That’s quite the harsh evaluation…”

“But I don’t dislike dummies like him.”

“And why is that?”

“Back in the day…” Hoshina scratched his cheek. "I met someone who was just like that. This idiot was constantly told to give up on bein’ a member of the Defense Force, yet he just kept throwin’ himself into it, no matter what.”

“So there really was a recruit like that? What’s that officer doing now?”

“Beats me. He’s likely assigned to some other unit.” Hoshina flashed a brief smile as he started to walk off. “Oh right, I’m about to hold a private training session at the dojo. The rookies will be there too, you could drop by if you’re interested.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“Yaaaah!”

The soldiers’ exhort resonated throughout the wooden dojo. Apart from the outdoor training area, the Defense Force base also featured an indoor training room. Many officers would come here to train after dinner.

“My, my... It’s so crowded even during break time.” The director mumbled in admiration.

“This year’s rookies are really proactive.”

Hoshina was scanning around the dojo when he saw two individuals, both wearing armour(1), fighting intensely near the entrance. One of them caught an opening and leaped forward, swinging his bamboo sword(2) and striking his opponent. The victor removed his mask, revealing none other than Haruichi Izumo.

“Not bad Reno. Have you done kendo before?”

“I picked up a bit during middle school… But I couldn’t see that last strike of yours coming at all.” Reno, Haruichi’s opponent, also lifted off his mask and let out a sigh.

“Nah, you almost had me there too, man.” Haruichi smiled gently.

Nearby, a match took place between two individuals with distinctly different builds. One was a kendo expert senior, yet he was outmatched by his bulkier opponent who launched many heavy knocks from overhead.

“Woah that officer is really impressive. Is he a rookie too?”

“Maybe it’s hard for you to tell with a mask on like that, but it’s ‘she,’ not ‘he’, and yes she’s a rookie, her name is Hakua Igarashi.” Hoshina shook his head and replied to the director.

“Igarashi… Oh, is she the younger sister of Officer Jura from the Second Division?”

Igarashi Hakua is a promising rookie and Kikoru’s close friend.

As Hoshina looked around, a male officer approached. This young man had a muscular physique, piercing eyes, and tanned skin. He’s Aoi Kaguragi, a former member of Japan Ground Self-Defense Force.

“Vice-captain Hoshina, would you mind having a sparring match with me?”

“Sure thing, let’s have a match.”

Once clad in his armour, Hoshina got into a ready stance, facing Aoi. As the referee signalled to start the match, a palpable tension filled the air. Others instinctively paused, as their attention was drawn to the two of them as well.

The fight began with two swords sharply clashing. Attacking first was Aoi.

“Ha-yaaa!” Aoi shouted as he charged forward, instantly closing the gap. He moved with a speed that left amateurs struggling to keep pace.

Hoshina skillfully parried with his bamboo sword and countered back. Aoi’s attack was neutralised. The two returned to a standoff, maintaining their distance once again.

Hoshina took the initiative this time. In response, Aoi swung his sword, attempting to strike first. Seizing the opportunity, Hoshina deftly flicked Aoi's sword upward, breaching his defence. A loud “thud” rang out as Hoshina landed a perfect hit onto Aoi’s mask.

“Men strike! (3)” (Face hit)

The referee’s voice rang out. The two exchanged bows at each other as the match ended. Once their mask was removed, Aoi’s face was glistening with sweat, in stark contrast to Hoshina, who remained calm and composed.

“Thank you, sir… I will strive to improve even more.” Aoi said, earnestly bowing his head.

“Nah, you did great! You’ve got some serious talent, y’know.” Hoshina complimented. Aoi was a rising star in the Ground Self-Defense Force, with relatively good kendo skills; he could even be ranked among the top in the Third Division.

(The rookies this year sure are outstanding.)

Applause sprang out as people enjoyed the duel between two formidable figures. Meanwhile, at the dojo entrance, an entirely different kind of match was unfolding.

“Heeeyaaah!!”

A man stumbled forward, ferociously swinging his bamboo sword. His wide, sweeping motions were all over the place, making it easy for his opponent to dodge, counter, and raise his sword high before slamming it down with force.

“Gack!!??”

The hit landed with such power that the mask seemed as though it was about to shatter. The man dropped to one knee on the floor.

“Sure-kill attack: Iharu Blade! How’d you like the power of my strike, old man!?”

“W, why you! Take it easy on me, won’t ya!?” Kafka stood up, removing his mask.

“That was me going easy. Seriously, why are you so ‘green,’ old man?” Iharu tilted his head.

“Well duh, I’ve never practised kendo once in my entire life. So, everyone else has, even Ichikawa huh… I guess all the Defense Force recruits are pros at this stuff…”

“Since you have zero experience in kendo, I assume you chose judo instead, yes?” Reno approached, striking up a conversation with Kafka.

“Hm? Nope, I don’t know judo either.”

“Huh? You weren’t required to take any martial arts class?”

“What martial arts?”

“Didn’t they require you to take either judo or kendo in middle school?”

“What’re you talking about?”

As the conversation drifted off course, Hoshina tucked his mask under his arm and walked toward them.

“Martial arts were made mandatory after the curriculum reform, which is why y’see nearly all of our rookies this year have some sort of experience—except you, Kafka.

“What, is that how it is!? Grk, even this has a generation gap!” Kafka stood up abruptly, clenching his fists. “Damn it, that means I need to train way harder. Vice-captain Hoshina, could you please instruct me as well? Let’s have a match!”

“Vice-captain, could I request the same for myself?”

“Hey Reno! Tryin’ to one-up me, aren’t ya!? Count me in too, sir!”

“Iharu, that wasn’t my intention.”

Seeing the rookies got all excited, Hoshina nodded, “Alright then. I’ll take y’all on—line up!”

A sharp "Thwack!" echoed through the air.

“Gack!”

A sharp "Thwack!" echoed through the air.

“Gurk!”

A sharp "Thwack!" echoed through the air.

“Agh!”

“All righty practice over. Y’all need to work on your basic skills.”

Upon the dojo floor, three members of Kafka lay scattered, their skill levels markedly inferior to Hoshina’s. After a lengthy observation of the scene, the director made his way toward them.

“Impressive! It’s clear that no one can even come close to your skill with the blade, sir. I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone hailing from one of the most renowned kaiju-slaying families in Kansai. Speaking of which, when you first enlisted, you weren’t here, were you? You were in Kansai, right sir?”

“Yeah, I got promoted by Captain Ashiro and transferred here.”

“I see! You must have been making a name for yourself since your early days then.”

“... That’s not the case at all.” Hoshina chuckled, looking a bit flustered.

This hesitancy of his somewhat confused the director.

“Vice-captain Hoshina.”

Hoshina shifted his attention when he heard a voice ring behind him. Kikoru stood there in her armour, her stern gaze peering through the mask.

“May I spar with you next, sir?”

“... ‘course.”

Raising her sword, Kikoru formed a ready stance. Judging by her form, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that her kendo technique was exceptionally polished. One could confidently assert that her skill was on par with Aoi’s.

(She's skilled in both firearms and swordplay. Truly astounding—a complete contrast from me.)

As Hoshina gazed at the rookies before him, memories of his own early days came flooding back—days before he joined the Third Division.

❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅••❅───✧❅

*NOTE:

(1) Here, they are wearing a type of protective gear specifically used in kendo known as bōgu (防具) or kendōgu (剣道具). Since I saw most Western websites tend to use the terms “bogu” or “kendo armour,” I decided to simply use the word “armour” here for a smoother reading.

(2) Similar to that, I’ve chosen to use the “bamboo sword” here to make it easier to understand even though the proper term for it is shinai (竹刀).

(3) Men strike (面打ち) in Kendo is one of the most fundamental and commonly used attacks aimed at the opponent’s head. Other primary strikes include kote (wrist), dō (torso), and tsuki (throat thrust).

❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅••❅───✧❅

[PART 2/6]

Hoshina was usually stationed in Kansai. However, on that day, he travelled to Tokyo for a meeting about a friendly kendo match with the Third Division, which was set to occur in a month. The kendo instructor of the Third Division was someone his father greatly respected, and a figure Hoshina had known since childhood.

“Sir, I’m glad to see you’re still doing well.”

“Not at all! I’m not as sharp as I used to be nowadays. I’ve been planning on stepping down as an instructor soon. So what do you say, Soshiro? Do you want to come and carry on my work?”

“Ha ha ha, I’ll consider it, sir.” Hoshina chuckled, quickly changing the subject.

Hoshina had received countless recommendations to become an instructor. Everyone in the Defense Force recognised his exceptional swordsmanship, yet they all believed it wasn’t suitable for practical combat. His father, superiors—everyone urged him to take on the role of a kendo instructor, suggesting he withdraw from the battlefield. Despite this, he still longed to remain on the front lines.

(I’m well aware… that my desires are selfish and stubborn.)

The meeting ended, and just as Hoshina was about to leave, he received a call from the general affairs office, informing him that the captain of the Third Division wanted to see him in the office.

(The captain? Wants to meet me?)

Even though Hoshina was completely perplexed, he had no choice but to go. Anxiously, he knocked on the captain’s office door.

“Come in,” a calm female voice replied.

As he opened the door and stepped inside, Hoshina was greeted by the sight of a young woman seated at the desk. It was Mina Ashiro, who had become the captain of the Third Division at a remarkably young age. The two were not far apart in age. He had seen her before, during the joint training sessions, but this was their first opportunity to talk directly.

“I apologize for interrupting you during your busy schedule. Soshiro Hoshina, at your service, ma’am.” Hoshina straightened his back and saluted to the captain.

“Third Division Captain, Mina Ashiro. I appreciate you stopping by.”

“Happy to do it, I have time to spare after all. I was planning to take a look around Tokyo for a bit before returning to base. Now then, what was it that you need me for, Captain?”

Ashiro turned her back, her gaze drifting toward the sombre sky beyond the window.

“I’ve seen you in joint training before. Even from a distance, I can tell that your swordsmanship is exceptional.”

“Oh, thank you captain…”

(Why is she bringing that up all of a sudden?)

Hoshina couldn’t help but feel sceptical.

“Soshiro Hoshina, I heard that you’re a sword specialist.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

Hoshina could already sense what Ashiro was about to say. He let out a small sigh.

(Here it comes. She’s definitely going to tell me to give it up…)

The Third Division was in dire need of a new sword instructor during this time. It seemed that Ashiro would soon suggest that he leave the front lines and take on that role.

“I need your abilities. Will you join my force, Hoshina?” Ashiro said as she gently turned back to face him.

The gloomy sky gradually dispersed, and shafts of sunlight entered the room. Her gleaming eyes gazed directly into Hoshina’s.

“Huh…?” Caught off guard by the unexpected proposal, Hoshina felt as though his mind had gone blank.

“We cannot overlook the possibility that more powerful miniatured-size kaiju might emerge in the future. Also, unlike you, I’m awful with bladed weaponry. I wouldn’t even want to pick up a kitchen knife.”

(Okay but isn’t kitchen knives are a complete different matter…)

“When I pierce through the enemies, will you clear a path for me?”

“...”

No one had ever spoken to Hoshina like that, not even his father. He felt his heart racing intensely, unable to suppress the thought that, just by serving under her, maybe…

(No, stop…)

Hoshina took a breath and exhaled slowly. He quickly regained his composure, and his heartbeat returned to a steady rhythm.

(Don’t take it seriously; it’s just lip service. If I accept the offer, I’ll only become a laughingstock.)

Since they were being courteous, one ought to return their gesture. That’s just how things should be done.

“I am truly honoured, but…”

Right after that, the shrill wail of the alarm echoed through the hallway.

“Excuse me, captain!” The door swung open as a bald officer rushed in. “We’ve received reports of a kaiju attack in Oume City. Miniature class, but there are large numbers of them, and over a dozen civilians were reported dead. About the details...”

Listening to the report, Ashiro nodded. “Understood. Ebina, rally the entire team, including those off-duty.”

“Roger!” Ebina responded promptly to the order. “Man, we’re still in the middle of restructuring the division and issues just kept cropping up.”

“We’re againsting the kaiju, they wouldn’t care less about our situation.”

Ashiro picked up the phone from the table and quickly issued orders. However, as she had just recently been promoted to captain, the chain of command was still in disarray. If they were to engage Kaiju, her unit would probably face a severe troop shortage. That was why she could stolidly make such a proposal.

“Captain Ashiro, I could head to the site as well if you will.”

“Wha!? You’re the guy who’s here for a business trip, right? You’re from a different division is it not?” Ebina frowned.

“I carried my suit and weapons. I can at least help with disposing of the yoju.”

“Yeah, but even so…”

Ashiro cut Ebina off. “Hoshina, as the captain of the Third Division, I’m asking for your aid. I’ll make sure to run it by your division as well.”

“Captain, are you sure about this!?” Ebina raised his voice. “Based on the kaiju’s estimated fortitude, this operation is going to be extremely dangerous.”

“He’s a close-combat specialist; he can definitely be able to help us a great deal. Isn’t that right, Hoshina?”

"Right." Hoshina nodded. "I'm the best there is when it comes to neutralising miniature kaiju."

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