#and i get very suicidal and depressed and the last time that happened to me i have no idea how i made it out alive.

[hauntedwoman]

how do i know for a fact that i cannot be in or never will want a relationship again ? bc i see pictures and videos of happy people in love and i want to projectile vomit like the demon from the exorcist.

[kurthorton-moving]

feeling very 🧍‍♂️ may not be around for a bit

[desos-records]

The part I appreciate the most in the Lockwood and Co show is how it handles depression and suicidal thoughts in teenagers. As a theme, it’s not often (ever) done well. Lockwood and Co is the only story I can think of that depicts it in a nuanced, realistic, non-romanticized way

but first, before I get into it: [if you’re in crisis or need someone to talk to and don’t want to/can’t use your national hotline, highly recommend Samaritans, genuinely saved my life] okay, let’s go

Lockwood is the most obvious, with his general disregard for his own life and admitted suicidal ideation. Lucy struggles with her self-worth and the intensity of the emotions she’s subjected to. George worries that he doesn’t belong, that there’s something useless or wrong about him. The show depicts these thoughts and feelings in a way that isn’t overblown or dramatized, it’s all but casual. Which is how it happens. Depression or suicidal thoughts don’t crash into you all at once, they creep into your life without you noticing

But more importantly (and again, something I’ve never seen anywhere else), the show also offers counterpoints to those thoughts and feelings. It shows that there is a way out, even though you may feel trapped and hopeless. This is crucial for the show’s target demographic. Bad media depictions of depression or suicide get internalized, contribute to the stigma, and make it harder for people to ask for help. This show doesn’t do that. This show tells its audience that, yes, things are scary and painful and it fucking sucks, but it’s not hopeless. And it says it so well

In the second episode, when Lucy wants to quit, she admits something that I’m almost certain she’s never told anyone

“sometimes I just think I’d be better off dead”

And when I watched this the first time, I expected Lockwood to react the way I’ve seen people react in my own life; with silence or panic or downright dismissal. But he didn’t. He stays calm and he says something that is so so important to hear when you’re struggling under the weight of feelings like this

“I understand that”

Saying this tells someone several things: that you’re on their side, they aren’t strange or monstrous for feeling like this, and that you’re not going to attack or abandon them because of it. And you can see the impact it has on Lucy, the way her face clears. She went from struggling to breathe and near tears to calm and steady. It’s no mistake that in this moment we hear his and Lucy’s theme for the first time (those simple, beautiful guitar strings)

The next thing he says is also important

“and it’s not true”

Simple, to the point, directly addressing her feelings, and (the most common mistake) doesn’t make it about him. Telling someone that you love them or that they’d be upset to lose you might sound nice, and it can be later on in the conversation, but in a moment like this, it’s infinitely more helpful to confront the thought itself

A similar moment in the first book stuck with me too, when they’re underneath Combe Carey Hall and Lucy almost steps into the well. What she’s hearing in her head (and the general phenomenon of malaise that ghosts produce) is very similar to depressive or suicidal thoughts. Before she can fall, Lockwood pulls her back

“no, Lucy, that’s not the way it’s going to be”

Depressive and suicidal thoughts deal in absolutes, so sometimes it takes an absolute to counter it

In the last episode, George has that heart-breaking moment where he says all the awful things he thinks about himself, partly because of the influence of the boneglass and Bickerstaff, but it’s also been building up, there in the background. Increasingly, it’s Lockwood and Lucy working together and George working on his own, which picks at old wounds (engineer, engineer, engineer, weirdo). He bonds with Joplin because he feels like she understands him in a way the others don’t

“it’s nice to have someone to show off to”

But Lucy pushes back against all that because she sees herself in all the ugly things George is saying, because she’s felt that way too. She understands that. She’s so surprised and horrified to hear him saying those things, resigning himself to dying down there, she’s not going to let him go on believing them

“you’re not a third wheel or an oddball or whatever it is that you think you are”

“you’re the best of us”

“we are not losing you, Georgie”

Flo called him that earlier too, but Lucy wasn’t there for that and coming unprompted from her it sounds so much like something you might call your slightly annoying younger brother. She’s so absolute about it all, with no opening for doubt, and you can see something like surprise on George’s face (but also pain because now Lucy’s in danger too)

For all Lucy knows, the boneglass will kill her. I don’t think for a second she genuinely believes her talent will protect her; she told Joplin that to protect George. It’s unclear when exactly she came up with the plan to use the skull, but she was willing to risk it anyway. And she knows, she knows, George will blame himself for this (because she would too, if it were the other way around), but even then, she’s very clear

“this isn’t your fault”

Their whole scene down in the catacombs is two kids trying to keep each other alive, physically obviously, but on the inside as well. And, oh god, George almost crashing down next to Lucy after he’s knocked over the boneglass, trying to wake her up. His voice

“Lucy, Lucy, it’s me, it’s me, say something, speak to me”

I think it’s down in those catacombs that George and Lucy really understand each other for the first time. In their own ways, they’re both curious and suspicious about the Problem and what causes it, trying to learn more about it (and stressing Lockwood out in the process). They both left their families; they both struggle with feeling strange and different than everyone around them. That connection pulls them both back from the edge

Lockwood, for all his confidence, is practically in crisis or was fairly recently (I suspect living with George helped). It’s fairly common, actually, for someone suicidal to overcompensate with an exterior shell to hide it, which can manifest in different ways depending on the person (they may not even realize they’re doing it, I didn’t)

And I love how the show handles it. He’s not made into this dark, tragic figure. He’s so full of life it hurts. He jokes around with George and Flo, fights with Kipps, admires Fairfax. He has dreams (plans) for the future. He’s struggling with trauma, they all are, but he’s not Broken™ in the way similar leading characters are often made out to be, in the way we often fear we are

And, of course, there’s Lucy, a wreaking ball through the precarious balance of Lockwood’s life. It’s not so much that she gives him a reason to live (although she definitely helps), but she holds him accountable in a way no one else does. This is the difficult part of recovery that no one talks about. Having people care for you (George) and sympathize with you (Flo) is great and necessary, especially early on. But at some point, you have to take responsibility for yourself and the noise in your head (you have to open your door on the landing)

What that looks like is complicated and messy and different for every person, but seeing it played out in a story is remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. This is a difficult thing for anyone to learn (many adults never even try)

That shot of George, Lucy, Lockwood (and Kipps) rising up on the catafalque sums it all up for me. Each of them fell into darkness alone and rose out of it together. They inspired each other to fight and win their individual battles, even when they couldn’t be there to help

[just-jordie-things]

the blackest day - fushiguro megumi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 12.2k warnings: shibuya + light culling game arc spoilers but not very canon compliant lmfao. suggested major character death, heavy themes of depression (not reader) including: not eating, insomnia, feelings of worthlessness + suicidal ideation. mentions of needles, stitches, + blood. heavy angst with a happy ending. summary: megumi tried to tell her not to go to that station. all he can do now is think that he should've tried harder. more info: rivals/friends to lovers, lots of hurt/some comfort, megumi has reached ultimate functioning angst in this ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ it’s not easy for me to talk about // i have heavy heartstrings.  and not simple, it’s trigonometry // it’s hard to express // i can’t explain // ever since my baby went away, it’s been the blackest day ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I don’t care that they assigned me to go with Nanami,” 

Her voice came out in a huff, irritation getting the better of her, and it was starting to become quite noticeable.  Her chest was puffed, her lips were pulled into a snarl that looked completely unnatural on her usually bright features.  The hand that wasn’t holding a short sword was curled into a fist so tight it began to tremble.

“Itadori needs my help more” She finished, sounding sure of this change of plan.

Megumi cursed under his breath, this petty argument being the last thing he was in the mood for.  There was no time for some ridiculous change in team ups.  The pairings had already been decided, and had happened for a reason.  With a veil over Shibuya making communication impossible, a change like this was absurd.

“You don’t get to just pick and choose what you want to do, (y/n),” He snapped back at her, before aggressively pointing in the direction of Nanami’s team, where he and Takuma had just taken off.  

It hadn’t been until too late that Megumi caught (y/n) hovering away from her group, looking lost under a flickering street lamp as she gazed off in the opposite direction of her team, chewing on her lip as she worried about her other classmate headed for the train station.  Had Megumi noticed sooner, he probably wouldn’t be standing here fighting with her right now.  He probably could’ve hollered for Nanami or Takuma to circle back and drag her off if they had to.  But they were too far gone now to yell after, and his phone was useless.

“These teams were drawn up for a reason,” He muttered.  “Now you’ve rendered it useless” 

She rolls her eyes at his drama, turning to head off towards the train station, not caring about winning this argument.  There were more important things to do right now than stand here and bicker with Megumi.  She was getting tired of this repetitive game of his anyways.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He took a large step towards her, making her halt in her tracks before she could get very far.

“I told you,” She snapped back.  “I’m going after Yuuji.  Something’s not right.  I can feel it” 

Megumi’s eyes widened and twitched.

“You can’t be serious” 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” 

Her expression didn’t flinch.  He could tell by the hardness in her eyes that she’d set her mind to this new plan of hers, and no matter how stupid it was, he knew deep down she wasn’t going to waver on it.

“You’re not going off on your own,” Megumi scoffs, hoping he could get her to see that she’d be walking right into a trap if she split off by herself.  “Do you even know your way there?” 

“I think I’m capable of reading street signs, Fushiguro” 

Surname.  Ouch.  He was only succeeding in pissing her off.

“Just- god, just come with me, alright?” He suggests instead, thinking a compromise would sway her.  “Going off by yourself right now is reckless and you know it.  Come on.  If the roles were reversed you wouldn’t let me do this” 

Her eyes narrow, and she clenches her jaw.

“I’m not going to stand here and play the ‘what if’ game with you,” She told him.  “You’re wasting time.  If you cross paths with anyone, tell them I went after Yuuji”

“(y/n)-” 

Before he could come up with another argument- or resort to picking her up off the ground and forcing her not to go- she was already turning on her heels and breaking into a full sprint.

Megumi had tried to follow her, but she’d always been faster than him.  He called after her until his throat burned raw.  Eventually he had to go off with his own team, knowing if he strayed too far then he was putting himself at just as great a risk as she’d been.

But fuck, had he made a mistake in not pushing himself to follow her.

Even if they’d both died trying to get to Yuuji, he thinks it would’ve been better than this.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Megumi wakes up that morning looking like he was in just as terrible of a state as he had the day before.  And the day before that.  And every day before that for the last six days.

It had been a week since the incident with Shibuya, and with every day that passed and the more ground they covered, Megumi was starting to feel worse.

Yuuta silently offered up an apple he’d found at the last shop they’d raided.  Megumi barely glanced at it before shaking his head, going right to work rolling up the sleeping bag that was starting to get worn and dirty.  Yuuta frowned, crouching down beside the younger man to talk quietly with him.

“You should eat something,” He suggests calmly.  “When was the last time you’ve eaten anything?” 

Megumi tries not to appear annoyed.  He knows Yuuta is only trying to look out for him, he’d been trying to look out for everyone.  Unfortunately since the impact of Shibuya, it was hard to keep everyone in check and healthy.

“Ate last night” Megumi replied.

Yuuta frowned.

“You had a bite of a loaf of bread” He replied knowingly.

Megumi paused in his movements, his sleeping bag rolled up part way, and his eyes caught the beginnings of a hole that he hadn’t noticed before.  It must’ve gotten caught on some rubble or debris and torn the nylon.  He frowned at the supposed tear-proof material.  If it worsened it would be a nuisance, and if he was out of a sleeping bag, well, who knew when or if he’d come across another one.

Pushing that worry off for a later time, he glanced at Yuuta over his shoulder.  His face was blank, as it had been for the better part of the last week.

“You don’t need to keep tabs on me,” He said.  “I’m fine” 

Yuuta held his stare for a long moment, hoping that if he let the lie sit there for long enough, Megumi would realize how empty it sounded.  

But he didn’t budge.

So Yuuta sighs, standing and dropping the apple back into a paper bag and rolling it up so it’d tuck neatly in the backpack of supplies they’d been gathering.

“You know eventually, you’ll need to eat something,” He says matter-of-factly.  “If we come across something and you don’t have the energy to fight-” 

“I said I’m fine” 

Despite the harsh words, Megumi’s voice is monotone, and not all that loud.  In fact, he’s almost whispering.  It only sends a chill of worry through Yuuta’s demeanor.  He’d already been stressing over his well being- not to mention Maki’s, and Itadori’s- it was starting to be a weight on his shoulders keeping an eye on everyone.

It wasn’t that he was burdened by his friends or the guilt they bore, but after a certain amount of time, he just didn’t know how to help anymore.

Yuuji was completely unable to separate himself from Sukuna, taking on the destruction of Shibuya and blaming himself for the entire catastrophe.  All the death, the chaos, and where they found themselves now, the boy could barely keep it together.  Yuuta had only known him for a short amount of time, and even he found his behavior to be unsettling.

Maki had slain her entire bloodline.  All but her sister, who had died trying to protect her, trying to make her stronger, so that when she broke free from their twisted clutches, she was able to take down every single one of them.  Yuuta had barely approached the subject.  No one did, really.  Maki had briefly mentioned it when they all grouped together, and since then, it’d been radio silence.

And Megumi… well, Megumi was still beating himself up over (y/n).  It didn’t matter what anyone said.  It didn’t matter that Yuuji held onto some sliver of hope that she’d made it out of Shibuya before shit really hit the fan.  It was as though Megumi had tuned everything out.  They practically watched him dim before them, a burnt out bulb that wouldn’t light again no matter how much they prodded and tried.

For now, Yuuta let him be.  The gang packed up their supplies from the spot they’d crashed the night before, and without much talk at all began moving again.  Here and there they talked about direction, and brainstormed how to get around stealthily, but other than that, it was mostly a quiet journey.

Megumi remained completely silent.  One hand on the strap of his sleeping bag over his shoulder, the other shoved in his pocket.  Distantly he recognized that his stomach was aching and his mouth was dry, and he was sure he was also in desperate need of a shower, too.  But even as the thoughts crossed his mind, they seemed to float away and fade into nothing.  Just like everything else that tried to fill the time in his head, it was always replaced by the overwhelming gnaw of grief.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to eat.  It wasn’t like there was much food to go around anyways.  Wasn’t everyone else much more deserving of a healthier portion? What had he done in comparison to everyone else in this makeshift group of people who were once peers but now that Jujutsu Society had fallen apart… did they even have anything else in common?

Just as the mental downward spiral began, it was washed away once more by the reminder that it didn’t matter anyways.  Guilt and loss settled at the forefront of his thoughts again, and he kept his head down as he continued walking.

The ironic part about all of this was that if she had been here, she’d laugh at him and smack him upside the head.  Everything matters, dummy, he could almost hear her scolding him, with no bite to her bark, just as always.  She always had something dumb to say like that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Stop being so gloomy, ‘gumi!” She’d hollered, followed by a string of laughter as she skipped up to him, turning her back to Nobara and Yuuji, who happily kept walking along to the next shop on their trip.

“Definitely don’t ever call me that again” He muttered back, crinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes in distaste for the nickname.  She laughed again, stopping just before him on the sidewalk, just as their friends entered a boutique, leaving them behind.

“Oh yeah?” She places her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow at him, and he wonders if she knows that their friends just abandoned them out here.  “Or what?” She asks defiantly.

He’d taken notice that when she was trying to instigate a bickering match, the corner of her lips tilted up in a proud little smirk.  She tended to get ahead of herself, always certain that she’d win whatever it was they were doing.  From petty arguments on the sidewalk to sparring to missions where she always wanted to compete and one up him.  Although after a while he had to admit it could be a little fun to show off on the easier-to-exorcize curses.

“Dork,” He rolls his eyes without a hint of genuine attitude.  When she gapes at him in mock offense he raises his hand to flick her forehead.  “C’mon, our friends dipped” He starts to head towards the shop Nobara and Yuuji had disappeared into, but she stays put outside.

“Yeah… I sort of let them…” She admits, a small, guilty smile stretching across her lips.  Megumi raises his eyebrows at her, smiling back in amusement.  Usually whatever those two were up to, (y/n) was following behind like an eager duckling.  “What?” She asks innocently.  “I just don’t want to spend all day looking at things I won’t buy and then carrying all of Nobara’s shit!” She defends herself.

Megumi laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling at their corners and his shoulders shaking and everything.  (y/n’s) almost taken aback by the action, surprised that he looked so… joyful.

“Alright, you’ve got a point.  We have an opportunity here, and we should take it while we can” He begins to plot with her, and her smile stretches into a grin as she nods back at him.

“Bookstore and coffee?” She suggests quietly, as if it was more outlandish of an idea than it really was.

Megumi nods affirmatively, tucking his hands in his pockets before turning in the opposite direction, (y/n) following him right away so they could make it there before their friends noticed their departure.

She still pushed his buttons as they made their way to their destination down the street, but he couldn’t help but feel a blossom of warmth in his chest that for once he was the one getting her to tag alongside him.  He would never admit it, opting to poke back at her the rest of the day like nothing had changed, but it had felt… good.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The day that annoying chirping flyhead had announced a culling game, Megumi felt a glimmer of hope spark inside of him that he barely recognized.  It had only been nine or so days since the incident, but it seemed like ages since he’d felt optimistic about something- anything.  

But as the flyhead spouted off the rules to the games, he’d hoped that a lineup would be included.  Surely with so many sorcerers pitted against each other, there must be some condition of having all of the participants and their points on display, right? 

The others recognized a change in him then, an eagerness, an impatience as he barely took in what the flyhead was announcing, only waiting to hear what he wanted.

Announce the players’ names, he silently pleaded with the damn thing.  Say her name, tell me she’s a participant, tell me she’s alive.

But the rules concluded, the flyhead seemingly disappeared, and Megumi felt like a fucking idiot.

Yuuji and Yuuta shared a look, and the pink haired boy turned to give his friend an apologetic expression.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Megumi tightened his hold on the strap of his sleeping bag and kept walking before he could say anything.

He didn’t want to hear any bullshit about maybes or what ifs.  He just wanted to get to the next safe place by nightfall so he could lay awake on his sleeping bag for eight hours, and then repeat this whole cycle again tomorrow.

His ever so present grief and his growing hunger was starting to blend into a concoction that made him more stand-offish than usual.  The others had almost cracked, barely acknowledging him at this point, simply not knowing how.  Yuuji still tried, of course.  Forcing a water bottle in his face, or a piece of food that hadn’t gone totally bad.  He’d maybe had a few bites here or there in the last few days, not nearly enough to keep up his energy, but somehow he pushed through anyways.

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t finding some hidden source of energy, he wasn’t persevering, and he certainly wasn’t living because he had to.  If he was being honest, he’d been wondering why his body hadn’t given out on him yet.  Nothing felt good anymore.  If it wasn’t numb, it ached, and neither one of those options was more of a relief than the other.

He wasn’t pushing through the unmovable force of his grief.  (y/n)... Nobara… Gojo… Nanami…  He wasn’t staying strong in their memory, and if anything, he wished his body would just give up already so he wasn’t such a burden to those around him.  Megumi spent most of his time in his own head, but he wasn’t completely oblivious.  He saw the way the others talked about him with only their eyes.  Short, worried glances exchanged on his behalf, each of them trying to silently convince the others to do something first, no one wanting to be the one to address it.

Tonight when he rolls out his holey sleeping bag and lays back on it, he stares at the starless sky and pleads with it.  He begs the rolling clouds and inky black night to let him close his eyes, just this once, so that he won’t have to open them again.

He can’t possibly spend another long night wide awake, thinking about his hunger, thinking about her, no matter how hard he tries to shove it all deep, deep down and ignore it.

As exhausted as he is physically, sleep never takes over his body.

A tear rolls out of the corner of his eye, trekking slowly down his cheekbone.  It lingers at his jaw, fat and wobbly as he clenches his teeth together as hard as he can stand it, desperate to make this tear the last.

It falls with a near silent splat against the nylon material he lays on.

The following little splats come in quick succession, seemingly a little louder as they fall one after the other.  Megumi chokes down the sobs to be sure no one else could catch wind of his breakdown.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

She momentarily glances up at him when he enters the room, only to scowl and turn away as soon as she recognizes it’s him.  Megumi fights the urge to roll his eyes, sliding the infirmary door shut and tucking his hands into his pockets as he approaches her.

“I’m not talking to you,”

Despite her sharp glare, he laughs at the ironic statement.

“I mean it.  I’m still mad at you,” She spits out, turning back to where she was stitching up the gash in her upper arm.  

It was a nasty thing to look at, and probably worse to patch up on her own, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten back from an assignment too late to request Shoko’s help- and reverse cursed technique.

“Seriously,” There’s more of a bite to her tone when she plunges the needle through the narrow end of the wound.  “Just go”  

She’s hissing and clenching her jaw before pulling the needle through and doing it again, trying to keep her stitches even.  It wasn’t the easiest task with her non-dominant hand, but she didn’t want to show an ounce of struggle.

“You sure talk a lot for not talking to me” Megumi hums, still coming closer, despite her warnings.

He earns himself another glare, but he ignores it, stepping up to where she’s sat on the edge of one of the paper-covered cots.  She flinches as though to lean away from him, and he raises a brow at her.

“You want sloppy stitches?” He asks pointedly, voice hushed and lacking any emotion.  “Fine by me, have it heal weird if that’s what you want” 

He starts to step away, and (y/n) huffs.  Her eyes shut and her shoulders slump, and he takes her nonverbal defeat as his cue to pluck the needle from her hand and get to work.  She wouldn’t say so out loud, but she knew his hand was steadier than hers anyways.

He works quickly and diligently.  His free hand placed gently around her arm to make sure it stays still as he stitches up the gnarly cut.  She tries not to react to how cold it is to the touch, but her muscles flinch when he first makes contact.

“Sorry” He mumbles without much thought, going for the fourth stitch.

“For what, exactly?” (y/n) mutters back with a furrow in her brow.  “For your freakishly cold hands? Or for letting me take this hit back there?” 

Megumi doesn’t respond right away, opting to keep his focus on his needlework.  This only annoys her further, and he can practically feel it radiating off of her.  He knew it was a matter of seconds before she blew up at him, she was probably just thinking through what she wanted to say when she screamed his head off.  He could tell her to shut up and stop acting so childish, but he doesn’t.

And he’s not totally sure why.  If this was Yuuji or Nobara in her place, he’d be telling them exactly where they’d gone wrong on that assignment, and to top it off walk them through how they needed to shape up before they took another one.  

But it’s not Yuuji or Nobara.  It’s (y/n).  And his mouth stays shut.

Truth was she wasn’t necessarily wrong.  He had technically let her take this hit from a Grade Two curse with a horrific set of claws.  But had he not sent her that way, then she would’ve wanted to tag team the Grade One with him.  And this particular Grade One had a gore streak in the deaths it had caused around Tokyo.  And on that fact alone, he took it on himself, and ordered (y/n) to take on the Grade Two.

“I mean seriously what the fuck was that? You think you get to boss me around just ‘cause you’ve been doing this a little longer?” 

And here she goes.  He braces himself mentally for whatever she was about to throw at him.

“Or is it something else? Hm? You needed the ego boost? Needed to feel like some kind of big strong man, Megumi?” Her eyes narrow at him but he doesn’t cast her a single glance.  His focus remains on the steady movements of stitching her up.  “Did it feel good to play hero? Did you feel good exorcizing that Grade One and laughing when I let a measly little Grade Two take me down-?”

“I wasn’t laughing” 

His voice is quieter than hers, and significantly calmer, but it still manages to shut her up.  For a moment, her expression is blank while she still stares at him, and he still keeps his eyes on his task.  

A lump forms in her throat, suddenly making it very hard to insult him.  It remains silent between them as Megumi finishes up the last stitch, finishing it off perfectly and dropping the bloody needle on the tray beside the cot.  The metallic thunk echos shortly, and then finally, he turns his attention towards her.

To his surprise, her eyes looked wet.  She couldn’t possibly be holding back tears.  Surely the stitches hurt, she wasn’t invincible, but she was strong, and never showed weakness.  Even when that curse had grabbed her by the arm and he feared it was going to rip it clean off her body, she hadn’t cried.  Screamed and swore, sure, but not a tear was shed the whole way back to campus.

“Think what you will,” He tells her, eyes flickering between hers curiously, wondering what it was that would make her tear up now.  “But I’m not so callous that I would take amusement in your pain,” 

She tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but it only burns more, and she hopes that he can’t see the emotion on her face, she hopes that she’s expressionless, cold, even.

“In fact, when I sent you after that curse, it was for the opposite reason.  I was trying to do you a favor” 

“A favor?” She repeats, intending to snap the words back at him, but her voice is strained by her burning throat, and instead she almost sounds… lost.  Megumi can’t quite put his finger on it.

He nods his head once in a short motion.

“Sorry you got hurt,” He says, and he means it, but his tone still lacks any sort of emotion.  He plans to keep it that way.  “Just didn’t want to see you get ripped to shreds by a Grade One” 

He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t give her the chance to reply, or even fully react to that statement.  Instead he turns around and walks right back out of the infirmary, not so much of a nod in parting as he shuts the door behind him and leaves her completely alone.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Megumi had found Yuuji after the incident in Shibuya, he’d ran to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, asking if he was alright and hugging him shortly out of the pure relief that someone was there, someone lived.  Even though Yuuji was in rough shape physically and mentally after everything, he was a person that Megumi could see and touch, and relief flooded through him like pure ecstasy.

“Nobara?” He’d asked, unable to finish the rest of the question.  He didn’t have to for Yuuji to understand.

Yuuji didn’t have to answer aloud for Megumi to understand.  His glossy eyes turned away, desperate for something else to catch his attention before he thought too hard about the fate their friend befell.

Megumi frowned, his throat going dry as he swallowed harshly.

He didn’t want to ask anymore questions.  He wanted to relish the lone fact that Yuuji, his best friend, was alive and standing in front of him.  He not only lived through the catastrophe but they’d reunited.  He wished he could hold onto that joy for just a moment longer.  But he couldn’t help himself from asking another burning question in his mind.

“A-and (y/n)?” He stammered out uncharacteristically.  His panic was evident in his wide eyes and tightening grip on Yuuji’s shoulders.  The pink haired boy looked back at him in alarm.  “She- she left Nanami’s team to come find you, did she?” He explained the situation poorly, not wanting to waste time talking if Yuuji had an answer for him. 

He doesn’t respond right away.

“Did she find you?” He asks again, his voice quieter as his features begin to fall.

His heart hammered in his chest in a way he’d never felt before.  A deep rooted fear he can’t recall ever having before, even as a toddler and fearing a monster under the bed didn’t hold up against the icy hot pins forcing their way through his bloodstream now.  His face felt hot as it went pale.  The back of his neck felt sweaty as a cool breeze hit it.  He was sure he was about to have a seizure, the panic was all too much.  The longer Yuuji didn’t give him an outright response, the worse the taste of bile in Megumi’s throat became.

“I did see her,” Yuuji finally mumbles out, dropping his eyes to his hands, which he held palms up and trembling before him.  “After Choso- the people that…” Yuuji coughs, the need to vomit suddenly pushing through his mind and throat.  “She was trying to exorcize them all,” 

He was struggling to explain what he recalled seeing that night.  It was all too brutal, and his mind was trying to push the trauma into a dark corner where he couldn’t think about it if he tried.  But this was important.  Megumi needed to know.

“She… she was crying,” Yuuji looked up at Megumi again, who furrowed his brows and shook his head.  “She knew they were still people deep down, like… Junpei” 

Megumi’s head shaking grew more rapid as he processed this all too slowly for his liking.

“And then?” He asked.  “And then what? Where’d she go? You got split up?” Question after question tumbled out of his mouth so quick his words began to slur together.

Yuuji wanted to cry just seeing him so worried sick, much less actually remember what happened.

“I… I didn’t see,” The pink haired boy admitted quietly, shame bringing his eyes downcast again.  “I’m sorry, Megumi.  W- we got separated.  But there… there were so many of them…” 

Megumi had stepped away, his hands falling from Yuuji’s shoulders, hanging heavy at his sides as he took a larger step back.  

“I tried to find her,” Yuuji’s voice cracked as he hoped to explain himself.  “Really I- I didn’t want to abandon her, I didn’t want to leave her there, not after everything she did to get to me- she- fuck- she probably saved my life showing up when she did!” 

He could register that Yuuji was still speaking, but Megumi could hardly make all of it out.  His vision was clouding over, and his entire body felt weak, as though he could collapse at any point.  He hadn’t even realized he was heaving until Yuuji, Maki, and Yuuta were crowded around him and helping him slowly down to the ground to calm him down.

He’d never had a panic attack before.

Finding out that (y/l/n) (y/n) had likely died along with countless others in Shibuya struck the first of several panic induced attacks.  Most of which he managed to keep hidden from the others, but some hit so hard and so suddenly that it was near impossible to work through it in private.

He’d been replaying Yuuji’s account of that night over and over in his head for days now, trying to find some sort of hope that she could’ve gotten out of that train station before all hell broke loose.  But with a hazy recollection and no other witnesses, it was hard to pretend that she made it out alive.

At first he’d spent time looking for signs of her as they traveled.  Any remains of camps he was sifting through, hoping to find that familiar necklace she always wore, or the shortsword she’d carried that night, something- anything that could point to a sign of her still being out there somewhere.

But now he barely lifted his head as he followed the group blindly, kicking at loose rubble and keeping a tight hold on his unraveling sleeping bag that was almost at the end of it’s lifespan.  There would be no use in holding onto a tattered rag of nylon.  

There wasn’t a chance he’d ever see her again.  His denial was beginning to fade, reality giving him a cold slap to the face to wake him up.  It was harsh.  It left him rough around the edges, literally and figuratively.  His facial features were sharper, and devoid of color.  His muscles were sore, only growing more so the longer he put off eating a proper meal.  If he kept this up he knew there would only be a few more sleepless nights until he didn’t stand back up in the morning.

And still, when he was offered a piece of food, he took a mere few bites before excusing himself to go lay on his ruined sleeping bag and stare at the sky.  

He cursed it when it was empty and dull.  He cursed it when it was full of twinkling stars and a bright moon.  It was never quite right.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Y’know any constellations?” 

Megumi startled upon hearing her tired voice creep up behind him.  When he turned to see her shuffling out of the doors in her bare feet and ducky-print pajama shorts and matching tee, he could almost laugh.  She was yawning, her eyes shut as she rubbed at them with the ball of her fist.  She looked like a child.

“It’s late” He muttered when she waddled up next to him sleepily.

“No shit,” She grumbles back with a roll of her eyes.  “So? Y’know any constellations or not?” 

Megumi wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing out here.  Had she heard him sneak out of his room to step out for fresh air? He’d left fifteen or so minutes ago.  If he’d woken her up, surely she would’ve followed him out here sooner than now.

Not to mention, she’d barely spoken to him since their last assignment together, and their sort-of argument in the infirmary.  The few times she had addressed him had only been out of courtesy to their present friends.  But even then, her eyes never quite met his, and her words were short.

“Actually, yeah,” Megumi hums thoughtfully.  “Tsumiki loved ‘em.  She used to show me when I was little” 

(y/n) nods, wrapping her arms around herself after realizing she wouldn’t relieve the ache in her eyes if she kept irritating them.  She lets out a soft sigh as she stands beside him, tilting her head back to glance across the sky.  She wasn’t sure of the last time she’d appreciated the stars.  It must have been when she was still a child.

Megumi clears his throat uncomfortably, before raising his hand to trace a pattern in the sky.

“Obviously that’s the Orion’s belt,” He says, before mapping out the rest of the hunter’s shape.  “The rest of Orion,” He mumbles, and he’s surprised when he glances down to see (y/n) carefully following his hand.  He wonders if she can see it the way he does, like the picture in the Astronomy book Tsumiki used to haul around.  Curious to see how interested she really was, he continued on to another constellation.  “That’s Ursa Major,” He says, tracing the shape out slowly to give her time to adjust to the image.  “And, uh, Ursa Minor is… there” He does the same for both bears.

(y/n) hums curiously, a small smile tugging at her lips in amusement.  She never would have guessed that Astronomy of all things was one of Megumi’s interests.

“Do you know what your star sign is?” He asks, dropping his hand and glancing down at her.  She raises a brow at him in surprise, slowly delivering her answer, half expecting him to come up short and sheepishly admit he didn’t know where that one was.

But he surprises her again, eyes darting around the sky for a matter of seconds before finding it in seconds and dragging his fingers along the main stars of her constellation with a great amount of ease.

“Alright, that’s pretty cool,” She finally confesses, shyly glancing up at him.  “You’re a pretty good brother for learning all of this” She tells him.

His attention is brought back down to her as soon as she says it, finding a soft smile on her face and a look in her eyes that he can’t quite decipher.  He thinks it’s akin to worry, perhaps empathy.  His eyes flicker between hers a few times as he tries to pinpoint exactly what it is.  She doesn’t shy away from his long silence accompanied by the eye contact that made her feel like she was an artifact under glass.  

It’s quiet for a while, until eventually Megumi looks back up at the sky again.  She wonders what brought him out here to begin with, but she doesn’t ask.  Instead, she clasps her hands together behind her back and admires the stars with him.

“What else can you show me?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

If it had been up to him, Megumi would’ve rather stayed behind at Jujutsu Tech to guard Tengen.  Maybe if he’d sat alone in the warping hallways of the school he could pass out from the mindfuckery of it all.  Then maybe, once Kenjaku arrived…

It doesn’t matter now.  Yuki and Choso had already decided they’d be the ones to stand guard.  He and Yuuji were already on their way to find Hakari, and there was no point in changing plans now.  Besides, he didn’t want to burden Yuuji any further than he was sure he already had.

“So, you’ve met this guy?”

Yuuji’s the first to speak, and Megumi doesn’t exactly have an answer.  He shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head side to side with a blank expression.

“Sort of.  I guess” 

Yuuji waits for further explanation, but after a few beats of silence, he realizes that Megumi isn’t going to explain what that means.

“Okay… well, do you think we can convince him to help us?” 

“Don’t know” Megumi replies.  

Yuuji frowns, and turns his gaze forward, fixing it straight ahead before slowly exhaling through his nose to ease his nerves.

Megumi glances at him out of his peripheral vision, and seeing his clear disappointment in his features, huffs out a breath and tries to explain himself.

“I met him for, like, a minute.  One time.  Before I was even enrolled at Jujutsu Tech,” He said.  

Yuuji turned towards his friend with a grin, eager to hear him opening up, or at least, trying to.  For once he keeps his mouth shut in the hopes that Megumi continues to talk.

“Gojo introduced me,” He went on.  “And I really don’t know if he’ll help us.  He’s a bit… eccentric” He mutters the last part with distaste.  

“Like Gojo?” Yuuji chuckles, and Megumi tilts his head from shoulder to shoulder once more.

“If Gojo had a gambling addiction so twisted it got him kicked out of school, then… maybe” 

Yuuji’s eyes widened, and he snapped his mouth shut before he could ask any other questions.  Megumi’s patience may have been thin- and perhaps nonexistent at this point- but he had a feeling that he should let his friend save up some energy for his social battery.  If Hakari is anything like Gojo, then he’d certainly need it.

When they stop to rest it’s not for long.  Yuuji gets Megumi to eat a bit more than usual, though not by much, he takes it as a good sign.  They rest just long enough to soothe the ache in their feet, but as soon as they’re moving again, the pain returns.  Neither one of them complained.

THe sun was just starting to set when they finally reached their destination.  Megumi stopped them both just on the perimeter of the territory.  An unsettling feeling spiking in his chest had his instincts telling him not to step any closer without a plan. 

Silently, he glances over to Yuuji, who’s already surveying the area.  He must have felt it, too.

“Cursed energy?” Yuuji mumbles, his brows furrowed as he meets Megumi’s hard stare.

The dark haired boy nods his head once in confirmation.

“Yeah,” He hums back.  “And a lot of it” 

It was impossible to ignore.  Cursed energy in great quantities had a natural buzz, like static electricity in the air.  This wasn’t that at all.  If Megumi closed his eyes and focused on it, he was sure he could feel the ground below him vibrating with thick waves of energy.

One thing was for sure, they were in the right place.  But whatever it was that was happening here put him on edge.

“Keep your guard up,” He muttered, stepping past the brush they’d been hiding behind and heading towards the building.  He tucked his hands into his pockets as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Yuuji was following.  “And your expectations low” He adds upon seeing the grin on his friend’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Arms up, Megumi!” 

Despite her offensive stance and the glow of cursed energy around her fists, (y/n’s) voice was full of pure delight.  Sometimes when Megumi would spar with her, he would be reminded of Maki.  He never understood why she never sought her out instead, surely the older sorcerer was a better match for her twisted delight with training.  Nonetheless, here he was on a Saturday, rolling his eyes as he raised his hands to keep his face behind his arms so that when she hit him she didn’t break anything.

(y/n) spoke as if she could read his thoughts.

“Skipping out on training doesn’t get you to Grade One, y’know,” She told him as they started circling.  “And if Yuuji can’t teach me Black Flash, I’ll have to learn it myself!” 

“Did you even ask Nanami?” Megumi grumbles, already knowing her answer.

She wasn’t one to ask for help.  Only ever requesting a training partner- or victim, as Nobara had once affectionately put it.

She didn’t give him an answer anyways, throwing a fist towards his exposed stomach, trying to apply her cursed energy at the last possible moment.  She not only didn’t succeed in using Black Flash, but she missed hitting him too, as he dodged with a graceful sidestep.

“If you’re so scared, why’d you say yes?” (y/n) asked, gearing up to find a weaker spot on him to aim for.

He doesn’t want to answer that, but she clearly isn’t going to make her attack until he gives her something, so he huffs.

“No one else would wake up at this hour on a weekend” He says lamely.  It feels like a lie when he says it, even though Megumi knows it’s the truth.  

It was seven in the morning, after all.  Yuuji and Nobara likely wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours.  If (y/n) needed a partner to train, her options were severely limited.

“Guess you’re right” She shrugs.

In the same motion she throws another punch at him, this time her cursed energy crackling in her hand, giving her some hope. But even though she landed a hit on his shoulder, it was still unsuccessful.

She groans loudly, to which Megumi scowls, seeing as he was the one that just got punched.  He rolls his shoulder to work out the ache before taking his defensive stance again, waiting for her to try again.

“You’re not in the right mindset” He points out.

She raises a brow at him.

“You wanna chase me around a bit?” She suggests, only half jokingly.  Megumi snorts, but stops himself before he could actually laugh at the idea.

“No,” He shakes his head.  “You should try something else” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” He huffs, annoyed for trying to walk her through a technique he’d never even used.  Still, he finds himself brainstorming another approach.  “Try psyching out,” He suggests, nodding his head as he thinks it through.  “It’d be more effective that way anyways.  If you’re using hand-to-hand with an opponent but don’t lead with it, you’ve got the element of surprise on your side, too,” 

(y/n) nods along with him, finding the advice to be surprisingly solid.

“So if you let them underestimate you, then catch them off guard, you’d probably be good as gold” He finished.

She beams at him as she raises her fists again, ready to take his advice out on him right away.

“Just remember you suggested it when I take you to the infirmary later” She teases.

Megumi smirks, widening his stance and raising his arms to protect his face again.

“You’ll still have to figure out the technique” He reminds, but the coy look on his face suggests that he had no doubt in his mind that she could master it in no time.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The inside of the building was so loud and rambunctious, it was downright overstimulating.  Megumi fought the urge to cover his ears as soon as they entered the premises.  Crowds of people swarmed multiple levels- he counted about six before getting distracted by all the pushing and shoving- and it was no secret what it was they were wildly rooting for.

“A fighting ring, huh?” Yuuji grinned, not out of delight for the sport, but surprise for the timing of a setting like this.  Did these people even know about the games?

“Great,” Megumi clicked his tongue bitterly as he surveyed the crowds with a furrow in his brow.  “Should’ve expected he’d pull some shit like this” He muttered too low for Yuuji to make out what he was grumbling about.

The squared ring where the current match was taking place wasn’t too far from where Yuuji and Megumi found themselves, but with all of the people in the way it made it difficult for them to see who was winning.  Too many arms in the air with money in their fists blocked the fight.  But it seemed whoever was up there was getting thrown around like a ragdoll.  The sound of a body rapidly being smacked against the rough mat or against the chains surrounding the ring were heard in quick succession.

However despite the sound of someone being brutalized, the match continued.  Neither of them have caught a glimpse of either combatant, but they knew it must’ve been an impressive lineup as it had been a few minutes of this now.

“Is this even legal?” Yuuji asked.  Megumi scoffed, although he wasn’t trying to deliver a rude response.

“Not even a little bit” He mutters back with a shake of his head.

Wordlessly, they decide they’re going to push through the horde of chanting people to get a better look at what was going on.  They pause in their shoving when a booming voice erupts from an intercom, the screech of an excited announcer sounding throughout the building and echoing across the concrete infrastructure.

“Place your final bets now!” He drawled every word out for dramatic effect.  “Will our resident Panda live to see another day?” 

Yuuji and Megumi locked eyes instantly, and without having to say a thing, began pushing and shoving forward again.  The sea of people cast them dirty looks and occasionally pushed back to scold them for their rude behavior, but they paid it no mind.

There could only be one Panda in that ring, right?

Sure enough when they got closer to the square, they could see the wide, furry expanse of a panda- The Panda’s- back.  His shoulders were trembling, not from pain or fear, but from the rambunctious laughter he let out.  He raised his paws, tilting his head back as his howl boomed.

Yuuji’s face brightened excitedly upon seeing their old friend.  Megumi couldn’t help but feel some relief as well.  Neither of them had considered the possibility of scattered sorcerers they knew being here.

They were close enough now that when Panda spoke, they could make out what he was saying.  The crowd around them was too busy screaming and chanting threatening cheers to care about what the fighters in the ring were saying to one another, but Yuuji and Megumi did their best to listen in.

“Just try not to knock me out this time!” Panda said through his laughter.

Was he throwing the fight? Megumi didn’t quite understand the context to this statement.

“Last time they didn’t bother to move me off the ring, I slept here all night!” Panda continued, his laughing ceasing as he took on an irritated tone.  “Ruined my back!” 

His opponent only laughed.  Something feminine and twisted, but undoubtedly genuine.

Megumi’s heart plummeted to his stomach.  He recognized that sound.

When Panda’s body was knocked back into the chains of the ring from a swift but heavy kick to the chest, his opponent was finally made visible.

A girl.  Not that girls couldn’t fight, but this particular girl had a cutthroat attitude when it came to fistfighting a bear.  It seemed every swing of her arms as she landed hit after hit on him grew faster in speed.  Half of her face was covered with a black mask, but the bloodied grin on her face was that of someone who believed they couldn’t possibly lose, no matter what beast of an opponent they might face.

Recognition flashed in Megumi’s face, making him go pale as he watched her strike two blows to Panda’s jaw so quickly it had to have given him whiplash, sending his furry head back and forth with such great force.

If Panda was throwing the fight, it didn’t really look like it.  He blocked a hit here and there with his massive paws, but she always seemed to move quicker to outsmart him.  Ducking and weaving around him with graceful feet and agile movements to keep herself from getting caught by him again.  Clearly she’d learned a lesson when he’d been throwing her around earlier.

When Panda did try to land a hit on her again, she grabbed his large wrist in one hand, still grinning as she used the momentum of his swing to swing herself forward and kick her feet into his chest.

The first from the right foot, directly against his ribcage, knocking all wind out of him.  

The crowd began to go wild, anticipating something Megumi hadn’t caught onto yet.

The second from the left foot, kicking lower against his stomach, making him curl over and heave.

But before he could catch his breath or clutch his stomach, she struck with her right foot again.  

The third and final blow came with a shock of blue energy, an abundant amount of cursed energy striking him in the chest so hard it sent him a few feet backwards, crashing into the chains and crumpling to the mat in a heap of black and white.

It was undoubtedly Black Flash.

She didn’t taunt him as the referee began his countdown before calling a knock out and declaring her a winner.  She didn’t strut around or try to rile up her fans in the crowd.  Not that she needed to, the people around Megumi and Yuuji were clawing at their own faces in astonishment from watching her take her opponent down with ease and showmanship.

And when the match was officially over and the announcer was hyping the crowd up for the next fight over the intercom, she slid out of the ring and left the area without so much as a wave.  It took a few minutes for Panda to get up, but eventually he was sauntering his way out of the ring too, waving to the few people who were his diehard fans and didn’t take his defeat tonight as anything more than some bad luck.

“Come on” Megumi beckoned Yuuji to follow him, his feet already moving as fast as they could take him through the mob, struggling to follow the exact direction that Panda and his opponent before him had gone.

Yuuji kept up fairly well, but Megumi wouldn’t have noticed.  He was driven forward by absolute panic, his heart racing in his chest with a feeling he’d thought he’d relinquished days ago when he’d tried to stop living in denial.

But he couldn’t get the image of that girl out of his mind.  She was so… he couldn’t get his hopes up.  Her laugh was so familiar he couldn’t have possibly mistaken it for someone else's… he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“Yo! Panda!” 

Eventually the crowd thinned out enough that Yuuji tried using the power of his loud holler to get their friend’s attention.  Panda perked up immediately, spinning around and searching the crowd for the familiar voice.  It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on the waving boy with the unmistakable head of pink hair.  He grinned, and his ears twitched a bit as he turned completely and began to make his way towards the pair.

“Itadori!” He beams wider as he reaches them, as if they could have turned out to be figments of his imagination.  “Fushiguro!” 

He hugs them both at once before either could protest.

“I can’t believe you’re here! Did you come to see me fight?” He laughs at his own joke, shaking his head before they could even say anything.  “Really though, what are you doing here? It’s not as fun as it looks, y’know” 

“We’re looking to talk to Hakari-” 

“Who was that with you?” Megumi speaks up before Yuuji could begin his explanation.  

Yuuji turns to him with a confused look, which Panda shares for a moment, before he chuckles.

“She went down that way,” He said, pointing behind him in the direction he’d been heading.  “(y/n/n) always ditches fights fast.  Hates the crowd, I guess.  Not me, I love the-” 

“Wait, (y/n/n)?” Yuuji repeats the semi-familiar nickname, his jaw going slack and his eyes widening.

He turns to share a look with Megumi, but it seemed the raven haired boy was already processing just whose nickname that could’ve been.  His face was flushed so pale he looked sick.

“As in (y/n)-(y/n/n)?” Yuuji continues.

“Yeah,” Panda nods affirmatively, not understanding just how devastating his casual response was for the younger sorcerers in front of him.  “She’s-” 

“She’s alive?” Megumi finally speaks. 

His voice is hardly above a whisper, but the words are like a dropping bomb.  Clear, and unmistakable.

Panda blinks in shock, his features contorting in realization as he looks between his two friends.  He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even know where to start.

So he nods his head, and turns to point down the corridor he’d been heading once more.

He gives them specific directions to where she’d been likely to go.  Megumi listens but doesn’t quite hear a thing he’s saying.  His heart is pounding in his ears, his body is going hot, and even once his feet are moving on their own accord- apparently having understood the directions just fine without his ears- he frets that he might break down into a panic attack if he’s not quick enough.  

The warning signs are there, the labored breaths, the hot and cold flashes in quick succession, his blurring vision- but he ignores all of it, racing through what was left of the crowd to slip into the near empty corridor.  Yuuji is hot on his tail as they dart through, eyes moving in all directions at every doorway and passerby, just to be sure that they wouldn’t miss her.

“(y/n)?” 

Her name leaves his mouth in a strangled choke of syllables, as though it were his first time speaking in months.  

She hadn’t been facing his direction, her hand still on the handle of the door she was about to open.  Her movements had been rushed, like she were hoping to sneak into the room and lock the door behind her as quickly as possible.

But now, as her hand stilled and a chill shot up her spine at the familiar voice, her movements were far too slow as she turned towards the owner of said voice.

Megumi and Yuuji are standing a few feet down the hall, their heavy footsteps having skid to a stop when they finally did see her.  She’s closer to them now than she had been in the ring, and although she still wore the mask, she was far more recognizable now.

Her hand trembles as she raises a hand to her head, pulling at the black material of her mask until it gives way, sliding off her head and pooling in the palm of her hand, revealing her face completely now.

Her eyes were wide as they moved between Yuuji and Megumi slowly, disbelief written in her features from the way her brows drew together, to the part in her lips but no words coming out, to the way her eyes began to water as they snapped back into reality and began to move closer to her.

“Megumi?” She drops his name in a mumble, barely audible even to herself, but seeing him here, right now, has her in such a state of shock that she could have believed Panda threw her around too rough and now she was experiencing delusions.

But then she’s moving too, her feet shuffling at first before picking up pace and running towards them once she’s close enough that she didn’t even need to.

“(y/n)!” Yuuji cheers when they’re huddled close together again.

“Yuuji!” She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight, rocking back and forth in bliss upon seeing her beloved friend safe and before her now.

When they part, Megumi still hasn’t figured out what it is he should even say.  He doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and suddenly feels so anxious he worries he might throw up.  To his luck, (y/n) acts before he has to, and she’s giving him the same warm welcome.

Her arms are tight around his shoulders, and her fingers curl into the material at the back of his uniform jacket.  She gathers the fabric in her fists, making sure that he won’t pull away until she’s squeezed every bit of comfort out of his embrace as possible.

And to her surprise, he returns to affection with more force than she would’ve thought.  One arm around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest, the other laying upwards against her spine so that he could bury his hand in her hair and cradle her head close to him.  He’s shaking, she can feel it, and she pushes closer until her face is buried against his shoulder, hoping to ease his panic.

“We- I thought-” He gasps between struggling breaths, and she’s never heard him sound so broken.  He drops his head so his lips hover over her ear when he finds his voice again.  “I thought you were dead” 

Her heart spikes with an odd feeling, and she squeezes him a little harder before pulling back.

“Alive as ever” She says with a weak smile and an awkward shrug of her shoulders.

Megumi has to shove his hands into his pockets to hide their obvious trembling.  The rush of adrenaline in his system hadn’t quite worn off yet, and at this rate he wasn’t sure that it would.

“Well what happened?” Yuuji asked.  “How’d you end up here?”

She lets out a humorless chuckle before wincing.  

“It’s… it’s not an interesting story,” She explains, then beckons with her hand to have them follow her back to her door.  “Here, I sorta have my own space, if you want to come in I can tell you about it, and then you can tell me what you’re doing here, too” 

Yuuji begins a long winded rant right away.  He tells her all about meeting Yuuta and dying again, and despite Megumi sending him a dirty look for going into too much depth about the parts that didn’t matter as much, (y/n) was an attentive listener, taking in every detail and asking him questions, too.  A lot about Yuuta, seeing as she hadn’t crossed paths with him in months, it was good to know he was still out there and on their side.  Yuuji continued on about the culling games, and how they had come here originally looking for Hakari.

“But then we found you and Panda- hey wait, do you know Hakari?” Yuuji asked excitedly.  “Maybe you could talk to him for us-!” 

Her eyes widen with uncertainty, a nervous smile stretching over her lips as she shakes her head quickly.

“I- I don’t know about that,” She tells him.  “He doesn’t really come out much, I think I’ve seen him once since getting here.  I wasn’t exactly trying to get on his radar.  He doesn’t love those affiliated with Jujutsu Tech, you know” 

“What? Why! He must like you, your fight was very entertaining!” Yuuji gushes.  Megumi sends him another look that he ignores.  “And you mastered Black Flash! He’s got to be interested in- ow!” 

Megumi smacked his hand upside the back of Yuuji’s head, making sure this time that he didn’t miss the look he was giving him.  His displeasure wasn’t exactly subtle.  (y/n) laughed through her nose at the pair that hadn’t seemed to change too much in their time apart.

Besides the fact that Yuuji had a few more scars on his face.  And Megumi looked like he had lost a bit of weight.  Besides that, their demeanors hadn’t changed one bit.  For a second at a time, she could pretend things were normal again.

“Go find Panda and tell him our plan,” Megumi orders gruffly.  “See if he has any ideas on how to get Hakari to see us” 

“What? But-!” 

Megumi widened his eyes, silently telling Yuuji to go.  The pink haired boy huffed, but stood from his seat on the floor and shuffled towards the door.

“And keep a low profile!” Megumi called, only for Yuuji to wave him off nonchalantly before shutting the door behind him.

(y/n) chuckled when it was just the two of them, turning to face him again.

“So,” She breathes out a heavier exhale than she’d expected.  “How’s he really holding up?” 

“How you’d expect,” Megumi replies honestly.  “It was really rough for a while.  We all were… pretty messed up.  Still are, I guess” 

(y/n) frowns.

“Yeah,” She mumbles.  “Shibuya… was…” She drops her head before she could finish her thought.  There wasn’t a word strong enough to explain the devastation of the incident.

Megumi’s fingers begin to twitch, fiddling and locking together as he thought over what he wanted to say next.

“Look, before we…” He starts, but loses momentum quickly.  He clears his throat to try again.  “When I last saw you, I-” 

“It’s okay,” (y/n) cuts him off before he could say anything more.  The face he makes is uncertain, and she gives him a nod as she repeats herself.  “Really, Megumi, it’s okay.  It was just a fight, it didn’t mean anything” 

“But I-” He starts, only for her to shake her head again.  “But it did mean something” He argues.

“We fought a lot, Megumi,” (y/n) chuckles.  “Trust me, if I was holding onto resentment over every time we ever argued, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now” 

“No- not like that,” Megumi shakes his head.  “It meant something because you left and I- I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, (y/n),” His voice holds a grave tone that has her kind smile faltering and her brows pinching together as she watches him.  “Yuuji said he lost track of you when you were dealing with all the transfigured humans and- and then you were just gone” 

(y/n) blinks, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she realizes just how long it had been since they’d seen each other.  How long he must’ve carried around guilt and grief over her.  It makes her heart sink, and she shuffles forward on her knees to sit closer to him.

“I got dragged out of the train station pretty quick,” She tells him.  “There were so many of… them… and I knew that I was worrying Yuuji while exorcizing them.  Cause- cause it didn’t feel like exorcizing,” 

Megumi nods, recalling how Yuuji had told him she’d been crying during the whole ordeal, something quite out of character for her.  Even now as her eyes begin to tear up, the sight is alarming.

“It felt like… like killing,” She whispers.  “So I started leading them away and got outnumbered and got dragged out further.  By the time I… once they were all gone, I was out of it.  I must’ve passed out or something, because when I came to, Shibuya was… gone.  I tried finding you- I tried finding anyone-” She tries to catch her wording, but she’s not quick enough.  “But it was just rubble and dust.  It was nothing.  After a while of trying to find somewhere to land to… to rest and regain some strength, I found this place and Panda with it and I just… stayed.  It sort of started to feel like this is all that was left,” 

She lets out a shaky sigh, rubbing her clammy hands over her thighs to relieve some of the stress building up in her body.  It doesn’t do much, but she continues the action a few more times.

“You know, I didn’t necessarily think I’d ever see you again, either,” Her eyes are downcast as she speaks.  “For a while I wondered, um, if you’d show up here…” 

“Sorry it took so long,” Megumi replies quietly.  She lets out a short, watery chuckle.  “But we’re here now,” He adds, moving closer to her, until she looks up at him, surprised by the sudden close proximity.  Her eyes are wide as they flicker quickly over his face, trying to read his expression.

It was a new one for Megumi, one she’s not sure she’s ever seen on him before.  Except maybe the night in the infirmary, when he’d stitched up her arm.  Her face feels warm, and she can’t decide if it’s because of the memory, or if it’s because of how close he is to her.

“And I’m not going anywhere without you” He tells her.  His voice is low, but instinctively, she doesn’t feel a shroud of doubt in his words.

She blinks to try to rid the tears from her eyes, but after reliving the last week and a half, and reuniting with the people she’d been naively hoping were just missing and not gone was starting to get on top of her.  She’d spent quite some time shoving down bitter thoughts and choosing to stay in denial.  As long as she focused on her matches and made enough of an earning to have a place to crash, she tried to stay as blissfully ignorant as possible.

Still, there had been a few sleepless nights when she’d wander outside and try to find a few constellations in the sky, or when she’d lay wide awake and let the tip of her finger trace over the perfectly straight scar on her shoulder.

“Really?” 

The question comes out with a shaky breath.  She held no uncertainty in him, Megumi was a man who was always true to his word, but reality was beginning to settle in and the urge to hold on to him and never let go was growing stronger.

Megumi nods, clearly amused that she even had to ask.  It felt like the first time in a long time that a smile began to twitch on his lips, the muscle feeling awkward from underuse.  His eyes gleam as he reiterates his intentions.

“We’re not splitting up again,” He tells her, a weight hanging on to each word.  His eyes move between hers, and when she blinks, a tear sticks to her lashes.  “I’m not losing you again” He adds in a smaller voice.

A choked sound that almost sounded like a laugh comes out of her as she nods back at him, shaky and fast.  For once, agreeing with him completely.

To (y/n), there had always been something about Megumi that drew her to him.  He was easy to pick on, easy to tease and laugh at.  She found joy in their banter, even when it was less petty and more serious, there was a magnetic spark between them that she just couldn’t deny.  She’d tried to explore that feeling, before Shibuya.  But she’d never known how exactly to approach it, always becoming apprehensive of the foreign feeling.

Now, it felt so easy to jump into the unknown territory that she felt silly for never having worked up the courage to do so before.  The fear of losing someone she cared so much about was too great, and there was no time to waste.

Her tear dropped onto her cheek, the fat droplet rolling slowly across her skin until it dipped into the edge of her wobbly smile.  A few more followed shortly after, unable to be stopped no matter how hard she willed herself not to cry.

Just as she raised the back of her hand to hastily rub the wetness away, Megumi beat her to it, moving closer to her as both hands worked softly to catch each tear.  They were cold against the hot wet skin, just as she’d remembered, and she found herself shutting her eyes and leaning into how comforting they felt.  The tears didn’t stop, but she didn’t seem to be in any anguish.

“I’m not losing you again either,” She whispers, her fingers skimming over his wrist before she clasps her hand around it, making sure he doesn’t pull away just yet.  “I- I can’t” The words come out in a small whimper.

Megumi nods in understanding.  His thumbs swiping across her cheekbones, and softly under her eyes, trying to catch every last tear.

“I know,” He says softly, still nodding as his eyes wander her features, making sure there weren’t any lingering tears he’d missed.  “I know, and you won’t, ‘m not goin’ anywhere” 

When their eyes lock again, she’s overwhelmed by an influx of emotion.  An eagerness to have him back by her side, a desire to keep him there next to her and never let him go, to never let anything take him away again.

“Listen, ‘gumi, I-” She tries to put words to the feeling, wanting to explain to him that having him here with her was sending her heart into orbit, wanting to tell him that knowing he was alive and he was okay was the first time she’d felt happiness in what seemed like weeks.

But the words are too difficult.  They’re too big and they get caught in her throat.  Rather than try to force them out, she acts on it instead.

Megumi anticipates the movement before she leans forward, catching the way her eyes rapidly shift between his and his mouth.  He reciprocates the look, curious to see if it meant what he’d thought it did, but just as quickly as his eyes land on her parted lips, she’s shooting forward and pressing them against his.

It’s a rushed kiss at first, full of anxiety and grief that hadn’t fully been relieved yet.  It’s  messy lips and clashing teeth, but once they both realize that whatever this feeling was, it was reciprocated, they relaxed.

Megumi sighs through his nose as he cups her cheeks and keeps her close, kissing her a little more softly, a little more deliberate in his need to display to her just how much he’d missed her.  In turn, (y/n’s) hands rest against his shoulders, squeezing just firm enough that he could feel her there, without being too aggressive.

Kissing her like his life depended on it made him feel like everything could turn out alright now that she was with him again.  Now that he was sure she was here, feeling the heat in her cheeks, and her soft breaths against his cheek, Megumi thinks his life had depended on this.

Up until about an hour ago he’d been mentally checked out since Shibuya.  Seeing her again brought him back a sense of purpose he hadn’t even really noticed he’d been losing.

Her hands are gentle when they card into his hair, combing softly through the dark locks that seemed a little longer since the last time she’d seen him.  He sighed at the sensation, unintentionally breaking their kiss.

The tips of his hair tickle her skin as his forehead drops to rest against hers.  (y/n) lets out a soft, breathless giggle before opening her eyes.

He’s smiling at her.  So full of delight that his blue eyes seem to gleam, and they’re crinkled at their corners.  She can’t help but smile back at him, her heart full and her face warm, even with his cool hands still holding it.

Megumi moves then, fingers catching a loose strand of hair.  He twirls it thoughtfully for a moment before tucking it behind her ear carefully, and laying his palm across her cheek again.  His long fingers splay out, wanting to touch as much of her as he possibly can, just to keep sure that she really is in front of him.

“No more runnin’ off, alright?” He murmurs, the tip of his nose grazing hers.

Her hands latch behind his neck, her focus on his lips as she thinks about kissing him again.  They linger there for a moment before shyly meeting his gaze again.

“Don’t let me go again” 

He shakes his head, a silent vow to never do anything to push her away again, and even if he fails to keep her by his side, he swears he’d follow her, wherever she may go.

With his eyes falling shut he leans in again, lips grazing hers as he speaks.

“I won’t,” He murmurs, and then once more before he seals their lips again. “I won’t” 

She could never part from him again.  She loved him too much to even conceive the idea.  What was next to come would be difficult, she may not have known Hakari very well personally, but she knew enough to be anxious about approaching him.  He was a bit of a loose cannon.  However she was sure that with Megumi- and Yuuji and Panda of course- they would come up with the right plan of action to gain his help.

With needy hands and a needier heart she clings to him now, just to be sure that she could never look back and regret not holding onto him tight enough.  He does the same, dropping his hands to circle his arms around her waist and pull her in impossibly close to him.

Whatever it took, he’d keep hold of her for the rest of their lives.  Nothing could ever take her from him again as long as she was right there in his arms.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ i got you where i want you // you did it, i never // i’m falling for forever ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

[anarchopuppy]

The Van Fund, or "Help Pops become homeless so they can finally stop begging for rent money every goddamn month"

Hey y'all! I'm Pops (they/them), a broke-as-hell nonbinary autistic anarchist. People who follow me will know that earlier this year I got a full-time nonprofit job, which I truly believed in and did my best at while I was there. Unfortunately, my best wasn't good enough, and by the end of my term there I was getting lectures from my boss daily (same as all my previous jobs - being autistic enough to suck at work but not autistic enough to get any sympathy or accommodations is hell). Eventually I was so ground down and burnt out that I quit, and I've spent the several months since paralyzed with depression. On top of that, while working there the partner I was living with dumped me forcing me to move into a shitty one-bedroom apartment, and shortly after moving there my motorcycle (my only vehicle) was stolen. Needless to say, being trapped in this tiny space alone with no transportation has not been good for my already historically bad mental health

At this point, the thought of ever working a capitalist job again genuinely makes me suicidal, so I've been looking into other ways of living. After talking to some very helpful folks and looking through various resources online, I've decided to get a used contractor van and live in it for the time being. I intend to dedicate the extra time, energy, money, and freedom that'll give me (plus the van itself, when it can be useful) to mutual aid and the broader anarchist struggle as much as possible

To summarize: capitalism sucks, I'm gonna live in a van and do anarchy instead

Like I mentioned before, I'm completely broke. I know how I'm gonna make money once I have the van, but without transportation I don't have a lot of options. That's why I'm asking you guys for help

After looking around online, I settled on a goal of $3000 to buy a van outright and have it delivered here. If you're in a comfortable enough financial position to help me out, you can contribute to the goal on my ko-fi. I also have a patreon, and you can DM me for my venmo, paypal, or cashapp. Hopefully, unless something unexpected happens down the road, this should be the last big begpost I'll ever have to make

Thank you for reading, and thank you all for your help all these years. Reblogs are appreciated

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

Words: 2577

Warnings: angst, talks of a miscarriage, body image, talks of difficulty staying pregnant, mention of what is technically a still-birth, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-medicating, accidental suicide attempt (this is will make sense if you read it), probably poor writing and OOC characters but whatever

DC Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

IF THERE IS A WANT FOR A PART 2, I WILL DO ONE, IF NOT, THEN THIS STAYS AS A ONE-SHOT!

I mention Y/N goes to a church to pray, it is described more as a Christian or Catholic one (I really don't know the difference and I apologize) as she lights a candle before she prays. If you wish to skip that part, it starts with "Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral." and ends with "Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out.". I do also mention that the reader themselves aren't very religious (but grew up with it so reverted back to old practices to see if it helped)

Alfred is also dead in this (don't ask why he just is) so that's why he isn't here!

The POV here isn't really consistent. It jumps between being with the Batkids, Bruce, and Y/N's. I tried to make it flow though so hopefully that works!

 I feel like I should mention:

Bruce and Y/N's ages don't matter (I'm not in the mood to deal with that) but; Dick is 31 (and married to Kori but that's not too important), Jason is 25, Tim is 22, Damian is 15, Cass is 24, and Steph is 23

I also am not too familiar with Duke, so that is why he isn't there much. Mostly just mentioned

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

7:25 AM

The kids watched as Y/N was silent as she put the plate down in front of Bruce's empty seat. They all noted how fake her smile looked as she looked up at them. "Alright, I will see you kids later!"

They all watched as she walked out of the dining room and once they knew she was out of earshot, they started talking.

"Did she eat anything?"

It was Jason, he had been the last down (well...outside of Tim) so he only saw her putting the plates down and ushering them to eat.

Dick shook his head, he had seen her the entire time she made breakfast. Fully clothed, which was unusual as she usually just made breakfast in her pajamas with her hair occasionally brushed. But not today. Today her hair was done, makeup was on, she was dressed as if she was working.

But everyone in that house knew she was still off after what happened, even though it had been 3 months since the incident.

Damian flicked at his food, "Ummi was supposed to take me to school today."

Dick smiled at Damian, "I can, Dami. Mom is just...preoccupied."

Damian hmphed and continued to play with his food. Dick was concerned for his younger brother. He knew that while he himself was close with the woman he had allowed to become his mother, Damian was so much more as she was really the only person who never got mad at him or made fun of him when he didn't understand something.

Jason abruptly stood, "Since mom isn't here, I'm just gonna go."

Dick raised a brow, "Really Jason? You're just gonna leave after--"

"Hey, we've been over this before Dick. I come because mom asks me to." He shrugged as he put his jacket on, "Plus, I'm going to follow her."

Stephanie snorted, "She'll kill you when she catches you."

"If she catches me. If."

Steph hummed, "My bets are on she will. Y/N is always on the lookout, especially after..." She faded and looked down, regret piling up inside her as she thought of what she was about to say.

"Either way, tell us what you find Jason."

He nodded to Dick's request before heading out the side door in the kitchen. Dick tapped his hand on the table for a minute before speaking; "I'm gonna go check on dad, Damian go get everything ready and I'll meet you at the entryway, alright?"

The eldest stood, placing a gentle hand on the youngest shoulder before heading to the stairs. Dick was concerned. He had never seen his mother so...shut off. Pretending like everything was alright even though everyone who saw her could tell that she was so close to jumping off of a bridge.

The closest that he had seen her to this was back when Jason died and she broke up with Bruce. But even then, she didn't avoid things that she had already planned. Even then, she stayed committed to things.

Plus, Dick knew she had no plans today. Well...no plans except for the fact that beforehand this would have been her due date. And he knew that that was most likely what had off-set her so badly.

Dick didn't even knock before opening the door to Bruce's study. He was even speaking before his father even looked up from his computer. "Have you talked to mom?"

Bruce raised a brow, "What?"

"Mom." Dick crossed his arms, "When was the last time you and her had a real conversation?"

Bruce shrugged, "I'm not sure." He looked at Dick oddly, "What are you going on about?"

Dick let out a hard sigh, "You two are married, it is your job to take care of her. Goddammit Bruce!" He threw his hands up in anger, "You know what? Nevermind, I'm not...I'm not even going to try."

He angrily turned and walked out of the room. He didn't even understand why he even thought that talking to Bruce would help. He just walked down the stairs and remembered his promise to get Damian to school. Trying to hide the anxiety he had that he didn't know what exactly his mom was doing.

--------

9:09 AM

Jason watched Y/N walk out of the convenience store all the way in Blüdhaven. From where he was, he couldn't see what she had bought, but the moment he saw her go into the store, he had messaged Tim to watch her bank account. To watch what she was purchasing. Something felt...off as he watched her.

Jason knew that after the...accident, Y/N had been hard to reach. To talk to. He knew that she and Bruce hadn't been sleeping in the same bed since that argument he had accidently heard them having around 3 weeks after everything happened. So 4 weeks ago.

Granted...from what he had heard, it wasn't even a fight that they had had. Mostly just words being thrown at the other. Words that Jason never thought that he would hear either one say to the other. Words that he never told any of his siblings that he heard. All out of fear that one of them would panic. And while sure, he had a disdain for Tim and Damian, that didn't mean he would ever let either of them know what he had heard.

Jason wasn't sure how long he had been watching her just sit in the car before Tim finally texted him a list of what Y/N had bought in the past week. And considering Jason had seen her previous bank records for a week, it was a sure red mark with how short it was.

Tim

In the past week she's gotten a lot of sleeping pills. That's basically all that she has gotten. That plus energy and pain pills. Duke is thinking she's self-medicating again

Jason sighed as he pocketed his phone when he saw his mom driving out of the parking lot. He kept a safe distance behind her as he followed her on her drive back to Gotham.

--------

12:15 PM

Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral. Trying not to make a misstep and fall as well as trying not to draw attention to herself. She closed the umbrella over her head as she walked in. Placing it in the small holder, she brushed the front of her outfit as her heels clicked on the ground when she walked down the long hall.

Last time she was there was for her mothers funeral last year. Last time she had walked up and grabbed the larger candle to dip down and light the smaller one. Her heart pounded in her chest as she kneeled, words swimming through her head and mumbling off her lips.

She herself was never very religious, but having grown up that way, she wondered if praying like she did as a child would work. Praying that things would get better and that she would get better.

She shakily did the cross on her before standing and wiping the tears that had silently fallen away from her cheeks. She turned and started to make her way out of the church when she heard a voice call out her name:

"Mrs. Wayne! We were not expecting you here today, is everything alright?"

Y/N slowly turned to face one of the Nuns, a small, fake, smile on her face. "Oh yes, everything is alright Sister. Just came here to pray for a moment. I haven't in such a long time."

The nun nodded, "Very well, I hope the Good Lord hears your prayer and makes it happen."

Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out. She grabbed her umbrella before opening the door and walking out. She practically ran back to her car, wanting to get in before anyone saw her out.

But Cass and Steph did. They watched her speed back to her car as they sat in the cafe across the way. Stephanie shook her head, "She never goes there. Especially not since her mothers deaths."

Cass nodded as Steph continued; "Something is seriously going on with Y/N. Maybe something else has happened that we don't know."

"She's been deteriorating for the past 4 weeks."

Steph raised a bow and inquired, "4 weeks?" Cass nodded, "Huh...weird, that's around a week after she came home from the hospital." She grabbed her phone and started typing in the groupchat that only held the kids (Damian not included):

Steph

when did Bruce disappear for a few days after Y/N came home?"

It didn't take long for Tim to respond

logs say he left 35 hours after she got home and came back 83 hours later why?

Cass

She's been slowly getting worse sense then

Jason

I overheard them arguing around 3 weeks after everything happened and I know they haven't been sleeping in the same room since then. And I'm not sure how important this is; but Tim checked her bank account and she bought different pills so me, him, and Duke think she's medicating again. Or that she's going to start again.

Cass and Steph looked at each other, concern and worry was on their faces as they read Jason's last message. Something started unnerving them as they thought of the things she could possibly do if she was going to start medicating again.

----

3:25 PM

Y/N looked at her body in the mirror. Her hands came to lay on her stomach. Just like she did before. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she stared at her flatter stomach. She breathed shakily as her hands fell down to her sides.

Why?

Was all she ever asked.

Why me? Why did this happen to me?

She was so confused. She had always been good. Done everything to be a good person. But yet she still had that happen to her. Was she just not meant to be a mother?

Of course...she was one. She was a mother to 4 amazing boys and 1 beautiful girl. But still...it was different. Yes, those 5 children were hers, but that one. That singular one that she had carried for nearly 7 months had meant so much to her. Especially after being told time and time again it wouldn't happen.

It wasn't even the first time it had happened. She had had miscarriages before...but that wasn't what it was this time. The kidnapping. Bruce and the kids had found her after 2 days. The emergency c-section to save the baby.

But she knew. Of course she knew. She knew it had died.

Her baby girl. She had died before she even got the chance to live.

Y/N shakily breathed as she grabbed one of the bottles from the counter. She had thought it was the pain medication. But it hadn't been.

Sleeping meds.

Ever since it happened she had hardly been able to sleep. Nightmares of what happened still plagued her mind. Bruce yelling at her still echoed in her brain. Those...twisted words he said echoed inside of her.

She had popped a few in her mouth before dry-swallowing them and getting into the bath she had started earlier. The hot water felt like it was searing her skin, but she didn't care. She wondered if maybe she did this enough, whoever was above would forgive her of her sins and let her keep a pregnancy.

She wasn't sure how long she had stayed in the water before it became difficult to keep her head above water. Her body just felt so heavy. She wondered what pain meds she had grabbed at the store. She couldn’t remember them making her feel this way before. After a few moments of struggling to keep her head up, she felt her body sink down and under the water. But even as she felt water rush into her nose and fill her lungs, she couldn't bring herself to move and get out.

She just accepted her fate.

----

3:30 PM

Bruce sat in his office, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. Something was telling him to check on Y/N. See if she was alright. He knew she had returned around 20 minutes ago, the security cameras had caught her walking in.

He carefully stood from his desk and walked out of his office. He walked down the oddly quiet halls of the manor. A small feeling of pain and guilt started to eat at him as he got closer to the guest room she had been staying in. He knew she was struggling. He knew that she needed him today. But he just...couldn't.

He was selfish. He knew this.

He knew he was so goddamn selfish. Caring about his own feelings rather than helping his wife. She had been the one to physically go through everything. She had been the one to bear that trauma.

He had been so incredibly selfish since she had come home from the hospital. He had even begun to wonder why she even stayed in the manor.

But as he opened the door to the guest room, unrest settled inside him as he saw she wasn't there but the bathroom door was open. It was silent. He had known his wife long enough to know she never was silent in the bathroom. She almost always had music playing.

He pushed the bedroom door further open as he walked further in. Anxiety started to reach a breaking point as he walked into the bathroom.

And time felt like it moved in slow-motion as he saw her state. Her knees bent out of the water, her head under. He saw the three bottles of pills on the counter. He saw the open one read sleep on them. He ran over to the tub, grabbing under her arms and pulling her out.

He bent down, trying to listen for a heartbeat. He felt like his own heart stopped as he heard nothing. Not even a faint thump of one. He quickly moved to her side and started CPR.

Everything still felt like it was moving slower than it was as he pushed down on her sternum. Tears gathered in his eyes as he repeatedly slammed down onto her. As he breathed into her mouth. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time he finally had gotten the CPR to work. She began to cough profusely, water spluttering everywhere. He sobbed as he heard her shallow breaths break through the air.

He heard the noise of Dick's voice breaking. "Mom?"

He looked at him, seeing both him and Damian staring at the scene in front of them. Staring as their father held their mother in his arms. As tears fell from his eyes, he pleaded for them to call 911.

It was with shaky hands that Dick did it. His words sounded choked back, he kept stuttering. Trying to say what he was supposed to but his mind was running at a million miles and and half a mile a second at the same time. Everything felt fuzzy and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. All that he knew was that he walked in on his dad doing CPR on his mom.

That was all he knew.

That was all Dick knew.

[eimids]

Worst enemy part 2

Arsenal x reader

(Okay but leah in this photo is the cutest)

Warnings: talk about suicide, depression, but reader getting better

Words: around 2k?

You woke up in the comfortable bed. You didn’t want to open your eyes tho. You didn’t want to face the reality of life and yesterday’s events. So you just laid in there. You could feel Leah’s arm wrapped around you and her other hand stroking your hair.

Unbeknownst to you, Leah knew you were awake, she sensed the stiffness of your body when you woke up. She didn’t say anything because she wanted to take things at your pace.

The day before when you had asked for help, you cried in Leah’s arms for hours before falling asleep in her arms. Leah then sent some messages to Kim. They talked about contacting the team management and Jonas so they could get you the help you needed. Kim would sort all of that out for you so you didn’t have to stress about that.

“Good morning sweet girl” Leah said gently when she noticed you stirring.

“Mhmm” You just mumbled back. Not having the energy to actually answer. Leah understood though. She let you wake up slowly taking your time.

“Are you ready to wake up properly and talk about yesterday?” Leah asked after a while.

“Not really but I guess I’ll have to?” You answered after a while.

“Yea, I know it’s going to be hard for you but it’s for the best. Your gonna get the help you need to manage your depression and me and all of the other teammates will be here for you every step of the way” Leah said and continued stroking your hair. It made you a bit calmer.

“Wait do they all know about this?” You asked when Leah’s words settled in. You didn’t want all of them to know.

“No don’t worry. Even though they wouldn’t judge you about this. But no, Alessia was the first one to talk to me and Kim about this. Then Beth and Viv came to talk cause they were worried. Then lastly McCabe. They were all worried about your wellbeing and wanted to help. Others don’t know about your history with depression but most of them have noticed that something is going on with you.” Leah answered you. You just nodded your head. Not fully grasping everything that was said to you.

“So you know about what happened at Manu?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah, but that won’t change how I see you as a person. You are an amazing person and a fantastic footballer and your past doesn’t change it in the least” Leah answered trying to convince you.

“So what happens now?” You asked next after a silent moment.

“Well Kim has contacted the team management and they have called the psychiatrist at the team. You’re gonna have a meeting with her and they’ll probably want you to start medication and therapy again. That helped last time right?”

“Yeah it made things better for a while before it all fell apart again” You answered. Almost starting to cry again. Just so exhausted about everything.

Leah stayed quiet for a while before she asked you about what she was wondering all night.

“Where were you yesterday? We were all worried about you and I was really worried that you might have- um” Leah started but couldn’t say the words. She didn’t want to believe the chance that you left to kill yourself.

You stayed quiet. It seemed too hard to admit the things that were so dark. But then you started to explain

You started to explain how you had left the hotel in a very bad mental state. A state where you definitely shouldn’t have been alone. You didn’t know where you were going. Wandering around the streets. At one point you could hear sounds of a train. That grabbed your attention.

You were walking towards that noice. You didn’t know if you were actually going to jump in front of a train or was it just to calm you down. Just the thought that you could do it, made you feel better. You sat close to the rails for a while before hearing the next train coming. You pondered your options. You could do it and finally make everything stop. Or you could fight just like you did couple years ago.

The train came closer and closer before it went past you. Then you don’t even really remember how you ended back to the hotel.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you or make you worried” You said while crying.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Now we’re going to get you some help.” Leah whispered.

Two weeks later you had started your medication and therapy. Your teammates kept their promises about being by your side during all this. Although the meds hadn’t yet started working, you were slowly getting better. Just having your teammates know about your situation and helping you with basic tasks like grocery shopping and cooking helped a lot.

Your therapist said that it would be the best if you didn’t live by yourself during this time so Alessia offered to take you living with her. She had a spare bedroom and wanted to look out for you. Leah, Viv or Beth (or all of them) would often come hang out with you since they couldn’t train properly yet due to their ACL injuries. Leah wasn’t much of a cook (or at all) but her company was nice. Even in those moments where I didn’t have energy to even talk she would just hug you and watch your favorite series. Viv loved to play board games with you. It was nice and quiet, just like you wanted. Beth was a mom, she made sure you always had something easy to eat and some water close by, she would even make sure you have taken your meds.

Some days were harder, some easier, sometimes you couldn’t get out of bed but someone was always there for you. You had been pulled out of training for at least a month before the meds would start working. After that you were allowed back on training if everything went well.

“Less can we go for a walk?” You asked your friend one night when it was just the two of you.

The older blonde was not expecting to hear that sentence from your mouth. You had barely had the energy to talk for a while and now you wanted to go for a walk. She was so happy that you were getting better again.

“Yeah of course we can! Let me just grab a hoodie and we can go. Do you need anything? Should you eat before we go?” Less started fussing over you.

“No i’m good, let’s just have a nice little walk” You answered her. And that you did. You went and got your favorite snacks to have a movie night. Although you ended up falling asleep head on her lap very soon after the movie started.

A Month later you were doing better again. You had more energy and were enrolled in training again. You weren’t yet playing at games and probably wouldn’t for a while but even getting back to just training was a big step for you.

Obviously your depression wasn’t cured and you still struggled but things were looking better for you.

“Y/l/n, come here you stupid” You heard Katie yell at you. You ran to her on the pitch with confused look.

“Why haven’t you told us that your birthday is in couple of weeks?” She asked you.

To be honest you weren’t sure in the beginning if you would make it to your twenties. You completely forgot about your birthday trying to just get better.

“Oh I haven’t even realized” You answered half truthfully.

“Well we gotta celebrate! Oh we’re going to have a big party for you! Lotte! Let’s throw a party” She yelled and ran to Lotte. It made you laugh. A real laugh. You hadn’t laughed in a while and actually been happy without feeling guilty about it. Now you were just enjoying the moment with your teammate on the pitch.

“I’m so happy she’s getting better” Leah said to the blonde next to her.

“Me too, I have been so worried about her getting better and now that she has I just feel so relieved” Alessia said back. They smiled to each other before walking to you.

“We’re proud of you kid, you’ve come a long way”

—

I don’t know if this is a bit boring ending but what ever.

[drdemonprince]

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

[scientia-rex]

I got home from work today sneezing my head off with a right eye that won’t stop watering, took a hot shower, climbed into bed, and I haven’t climbed out since. I’m grumpy and I have a headache and if I’m not testing positive for COVID or debilitated by symptoms tomorrow I’ll still need to go to work because that’s twenty patient visits that would need to be rescheduled, usually with someone else, and that’s twenty people I’m letting down. Today I did one of my patented 45-second Pap smears (if it takes longer than that, your doctor needs to get better!) for someone with vaginal atrophy from menopause (it is both very common and very treatable) and she was in disbelief. (This time it was more like 30 seconds.) I saw a suicidally depressed patient who’s clinging to life with both hands and I changed their meds last week and I am not making them wait to see me. I cleaned a wound no one else gave a shit about and I saw a bitter pissy Republican Party bigwig who has terrible anxiety and depression she doesn’t tell anyone about, who’s alienated everyone but who I can still convince to try treatment.

I do my job on hard mode on purpose. I like being important—who doesn’t? I like being legendary, I like that when people move to town and ask for doctor recommendations on Facebook so many people mention me that other patients feel compelled to tell me about it. I got nominated for best doctor in our local region last year. (I didn’t win, out of 5 nominees.) But when I’m sick, when I’m the kind of sick that can be hidden easily, the kind of sick I was always expected to go to school and rotations and residency with, it’s so hard. I hate exposing patients, even to a cold, but the benefits of receiving care are probably enough to outweigh the chance of transmission. I wrestle with myself: if I call in, it starts a ripple effect. Can they get a per diem from their “pool” (of three) to come in? Can they reschedule my patients with me? I don’t have any open spots for five weeks. Can they open same days? None available for three weeks. Can they open blocked spots? That’s going to make my life hell when I come back from being sick. That’s clinic staff calling twenty patients, trying to reach them. That’s twenty patients who feel abandoned. They can know intellectually that doctors get sick too, but they don’t believe it. They take it personally. I have seen this over and over again, until I had to believe it.

It is so EASY for people who don’t do this job to tell me how I’m doing it wrong. “Just stay home!” Oh, okay, you want to tell the person whose chronic opioids I’m supposed to write for that I can’t? You want to put the nurses through getting the on-call to write a bridge prescription? I write more ADHD meds than most of my peers—usually a lot more. You want to tell my colleagues to write meds they’re uncomfortable with? How about tell my suicidal patients (which is a lot of them!) that the provider they know and trust after months or years will be replaced today by a 70-year-old white man who still thinks they should pull themselves up by their bootstraps? Tell my queer patients that they have to wait until I’m better and back to get their hormones and their STI screenings, reschedule a Pap someone was dreading. Every day is a kaleidoscope of opportunities to make a real connection with “difficult” patients. I’m good at it. I may be the best at it at my clinic.

I don’t hate calling in sick just because the clinic manager is a judgy bitch, though that doesn’t help. I hate it because of what it does to my patients. And it’s not simple. Pretending it is does all of us a disservice. I am not a widget. I am not easily replaceable. You can’t plug any of our per diems (all men, 2/3 white, 2/3 old, 1/3 a Bitcoin bro) into my place and call it an equivalent, and my schedule is already so packed that if I call in sick, patients will be guilt-tripping me about it for months. I’m not kidding. That happens every single time.

Christ alive, I wish it was true that doctors never got sick.

[mjr-acourtofdreams]

Drowning

Warning: depression, suicidal thoughts and actions, anxiety. torcher, blood (If missed anything lmk)

Description: realizing that she was never enough for him and deciding the world might just be better without her in it.

part 1

The Beginning

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

I have been a part of the inner circle since the very beginning. I was born in Illyria, I am not like the other Illyrians, my mother was full Illyrian while my father was high fae that resulted being born high fae with Illyrian wings. This was not something to be exactly proud of in the camps my mother was considered a whore for sleeping with a "no good" high fae male little did they know that my mother and farther were mates it sadly didnt have quite a happy ending.

I was just barely considered an adult when those brute warriors came to our families cabin that evening farther was not home it was just me and mother at the house. They broke down the door and grabbed my mother I still can hear her screaming at me to run and get away, so i did I ran and ran until it hurt to breath it wasn't good enough though two of the Illyrians caught up to me knocking me down into the frozen snow the one grabbed my hair yanking me up to look into the face. "You are a disgrace to our kind, you shouldn't have survived birth" he breathed into my ear I tried to push him away he just grabbed me tighter "you are going to regret that you are even alive by the time we are done with you, you are going with you were not even born."

My screams echoed throughout the forest there they are me tied between two trees the stripped me down to nothing but my bare skin the chill of the winter wind with nothing compared to the pain that was happening to my back. They took a dull sword and sawed off one of my wings there it layed behind me on the ground the blood was pooling around me dangling feet they were working their way through my other wing all I hear is the ripping of the tendons and born from my back to the wing my throat was sore from screaming through the pain of the first wing I couldn't even make a sound I just the silent tears run down my checks by body started to shake then I heard a thud my other wing was now laying on the ground with the other more blood was pooling beneath me. They laughed "that's a much better look on you." I heard the one male said the other reached down and grabbed my wings "these will look good hanging above my fireplace." more laughs echoed through next thing I knew blackness started to consume me and then I heard those same men screaming, pleading for their lives. The last thing I seen before I completely feel into was darkens was another Illyrian male rushing towards me cutting me free. "shhh you're going to be okay."

[mandos-mind-trick]

Dream of You

Summary: You know things. Things you shouldn’t. You knew about the clones, about the Republic’s army long before the war started. You knew about their training, you knew about attacks and battles even before they happened, long before the rest of the galaxy knew about them. Your only regret is not saying something sooner. 

Pairing: Echo x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, slight aftercare, angst, war, Echo's "death", slight description of medical stuff, paranoia, depression, very brief implied mention of suicidal thoughts, fluffy, happy ending, Soulmate AU

A/N: Did I intend the last two soulmate fics to have similar links...not really. It just happened this way. Also, this is the NSFW Echo soulmate fic, the one with ace!reader is coming shortly. I'll be making a post when I'm close to finishing that one. I really struggled with this so sorry if it's garbage. Echo was not musing for me this time around.

MASTERLIST

Blaster fire. 

It’s all around you, though that was fairly common for your dreams. You’re not sure where you are. You can’t see anything defining, nothing that would point out where you are or what you’re doing. 

“This is our only chance. We’ve got to stop him.” The voice echoes in your head. It’s coming from you. It’s your voice. 

You rush forward, grabbing a shield from the ground despite the bolts being fired at you. You rush towards the shuttle, firing at the droids in an attempt to secure it. 

“Echo look out!” 

Before the words register in your mind, before you can react you’re flying, being thrown forward by a wave of heat and energy. 

An explosion. 

The sound registers in your ears as you hit the ground. It’s dark, wherever you’ve landed. The pain begins to register as the shock wears off. Your whole body feels as if it's on fire. You can feel your pulse in your legs and arms, blood on your tongue. You can’t move. Even if you wanted to, even if you tried to call out, you can’t. 

You’re dying. 

****

You wake with a scream. Tears are gliding down your cheeks, and have been judging on the dampness of your face. You’re shaking uncontrollably, breaths coming in hyperventilating gasps. 

Your soulmate’s going to die. 

A hand lands on your shoulder, shaking you gently. “You alright?” 

You’re still hyperventilating, your brain refusing to respond. You’re soulmate’s going to die. Your soulmate’s going to die. It’s the only thing you can think of. 

“Look at me.” One of your fellow medics, Zena, kneels down on the other side of you. You like Zena. You’d consider her a friend. “I need you to breathe, otherwise you’re going to pass out.” 

She’s right. You can feel the tingling in your hands and feet and face as the carbon dioxide in your blood rapidly decreases. Zena takes a deep breath, holding it before letting it out. You try to mimic her, slowing your hyperventilating until your breathing is semi-even, broken only by the occasional sobs as you continue to cry. 

“What is it?” Zena asks, sitting on the edge of your bunk. “What’s going on?” 

“E-Echo.” You stutter out. “He’s...he’s go-gonna die!” 

A sympathetic look crosses her face. She’s one of the few that know about your soulmate, an ARC Trooper stationed with the 501st named Echo. You’ve never met, at least in person. You share a unique connection with him. Every time you sleep, you dream of what your soulmate will experience the next day. It started about eight years ago. You knew things about the GAR, about the war, long before it started. You’ve dreamed of battles that have happened since, things you shouldn’t know. Things that would get you arrested and sent to interrogation. 

It was what led you to sign up to be a medic, the hope that you might by chance run into your soulmate. Of course, you hadn’t known back then about the rules, the Kaminoans and the GAR forbidding the clones from forming links with their soulmates. The more you learned about the clones, the more angry it made you at the GAR. 

Zena squeezes your arm. “Maybe...maybe Commander Bly could help. He could alert the 501st command or something.” 

You scrub a hand over your face, smearing tears all over your skin. She’s right. Maybe...maybe things aren’t hopeless. You’re risking a lot. You’ll have to reveal your connection to Echo. If anyone finds out, he’ll be forced to reject you. By saving him, you might force yourselves apart for good. 

It would be better than losing him permanently. 

You throw the covers back, sliding your feet into your boots. “I need to find the Commander.” 

You’ve only spoken to Commander Bly once, while you patched his wound after a battle. You didn’t interact with command much outside the med bay. You were so far below their ranks. Your job was to patch wounds and keep injured troopers alive long enough to receive care. You were about to step so far out of your zone, but if it might save your soulmate’s life, then it will be worth it. 

You’re out the door of the bunks in a flash, before anyone can bring into question your course of action, before you can really question your decision. You head to the bridge, the first place you can think of as to where Commander Bly might be. 

You’re stopped at the doors before you can even get inside. “Authorized personnel only.” The trooper says. 

“I need to see Commander Bly.” You say, putting as much authority in your voice as you can. 

“He’s busy.” The trooper says. 

“It’s an emergency.” You say. “Lives are at stake.” 

The troopers at the door share a glance before one steps inside. You only get a quick glance through the doors before they’re closing again. You stand there and wait for what feels like too long, before the doors open, the trooper returning with Commander Bly in tow. 

He seems far more imposing now than he had when you’d patched his wound. You had been running high on adrenaline, patching trooper after trooper for hours after the battle ended. The adrenaline made you more brave. You could use some of that now. Right now all you have is desperation. 

Commander Bly leads you to a private room, your heart pounding in your chest. How were you going to tell him? How were you going to make him believe you? You’d have to spill, you’d have to tell him the truth and hope he believed the same as the other clones about soulmates. You’re risking so much, but if it saves even one life, perhaps it will be worth it. 

“You think someone’s in trouble?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You nod, taking a deep breath. Your hands are still shaking, still rattled by your dream. “It’s the 501st, sir.” You push the tears away, not wanting to cry in front of your Commander. “Something’s wrong, something’s going to happen.” 

“And how do you know this?” He asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“My...my soulmate is with the 501st.” You say. “We share a dream connection. I-I had a dream last night. He’s going to die.” 

Commander Bly stares at you for a moment before he sighs, his shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“Warn them. Contact them. Something!” You say, raising your voice a bit. “There has to be something that can be done.” 

He shakes his head. “The 501st is on a campaign right now. No warning I could send is going to change what happens. We have to do our duty first.” 

Tears blur your eyes at his words. Of course it was foolish to think you could stop one clone from dying. You shouldn’t have bothered. Now you could be reported to GAR officials. 

“I’m sorry.” The Commander at least has the decency to sound sympathetic. He puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “There’s a shuttle leaving for Coruscant in less than an hour. I’ll put in the leave request paperwork.” 

You feel defeated. That’s it, then. There’s no swooping in and saving him, no way of preventing his death. Maybe this was the way it was always supposed to be. Fate wouldn’t give you a soulmate you weren’t going to meet. 

So what does that say about you? 

You drag your feet back to the barracks, packing your things silently as the tears slide down your cheeks. You feel numb, like your body is already preparing for the inevitable pain. It was going to happen today. You don’t know exactly when. It’s almost worse. 

You find the shuttle, boarding it without a word. You squish yourself in between two crates, pulling your knees to your chest as you wait for the soul-crushing pain of your soulmate’s death to hit you. 

***

You’ve been on Coruscant for two days. You’ve fluttered in and out of sleep, tears, and a deep numbness that prevented you from doing much else besides sitting and staring out the window of your hotel. You haven’t dreamed once in the many hours you’ve spent asleep. It’s all been dark, black, a void of nothingness. 

Was this what it felt like losing a soulmate? 

No one could ever fully describe it. They said it was horribly painful, like a piece of them was dying and decaying and it left a gaping hole in its place that never fully healed. 

You certainly feel like one big gaping hole. 

There’s been no pain, no soul-shredding feeling. Just numbness and emptiness. Perhaps it’s different for everyone. Perhaps your brain had blocked it out to save you from the pain of having to feel part of your soul dying. 

On the third day they arrive. 

You had managed to drag yourself into the shower, and you answer the door with dripping hair. Two members of the Coruscant Guard stand at your door. They ask your name and you confirm it. You’ve been summoned to the GAR headquarters. 

You already know what this is about. 

They let you at least make yourself decent and put shoes on before they escort you to the speeder. You’re not under arrest, which is a good sign, but you can imagine you’re headed into an interrogation. Someone had spilled on your link, on your knowledge of things you shouldn’t have known. Was it Commander Bly? One of your fellow civilians? 

You’re not mad. 

You’re far too numb to feel anything that strong. 

You’re escorted into the building and led through the labyrinth of lifts and halls. You’re left in a room with hardly more than a table and chairs and an overhead light. You lower yourself into one of the chairs, trying to prepare yourself for your impending interrogation. You can only imagine the things you’re going to get asked about. 

You’re not sure how long you wait there in the plain, windowless room. It feels like an external representation of how you feel inside. You can’t even bring yourself to feel nervous when an Admiral joins you in the room. 

He asks your name and your station, questions you can easily answer. You know you can’t lie. Getting caught in a lie isn’t going to help you any, and besides, why would you lie now? Your soulmate’s dead. They can’t do anything about it. 

“Having highly confidential information about the GAR and its battles puts you in a precarious situation.” The Admiral says. 

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” You say. “After all, my soulmate is dead.” 

“Yes, what a pity. The loss of clones is an unfortunate aspect of the war that the Republic has no choice but to accept.” The Admiral says, no sympathy in his tone whatsoever. “You could have been a useful asset. Perhaps if we had known, things could have gone differently.” 

Your hands ball into fists, sudden rage boiling under the surface. It’s the first thing you’ve felt in days. You know it’s not true. They wouldn’t have risked anything to save Echo. He’s just another clone to them. Another faceless body to throw in front of a blaster. 

You’re shuttled back to your hotel and left at the door like nothing had happened. You’re still burning with rage, your body clinging to the first emotion it’s been able to conjure in days. You want to flip the table in your room, destroy the bed, break a window, something. You don’t have that kind of money, though, to pay for those damages. Nor do you want to put some poor housekeeper through that. 

Instead you drop on the bed and let out a scream into the pillow. The rage begins to boil down to tears, your sobs muffled by the dampening pillow. You cry yourself to sleep, drifting back into a state of numbness. 

***

It’s cold. You can’t see anything, you can’t hear anything. All around you is cold and dark. You can’t move, you can’t feel. You’re numb. The pain is gone, replaced by nothing. Nothing but numbing blackness in the cold around you. 

No, wait. You can hear something. Something off in the distance. It’s getting louder, echoing in your mind. 

CT-1409. 

CT-1409.

***

You can still hear it when you wake. 

CT-1409. 

You blink the tears from your lashes, sitting up on the bed. It’s night, the city illuminated outside the window. You haven’t been asleep long. You’d been in the GAR headquarters longer than you thought. 

CT-1409. 

You rise from the bed, moving towards the window, looking down at the city as far as you can, until it disappears into the cloud of haze that separates the upper and lower levels. You suddenly back away from the window, all but punching the button to close the shutters. It cuts off the only light, bathing the room in complete darkness. For half a moment you expect the cold to come seeping back in. 

CT-1409. 

You need to get off Coruscant. You need to get out from under the eyes of the Republic. You need to hide. You need to disappear before they make you.  

CT-1409. 

You use your savings to purchase a ship. It’s a piece of junk, but it has hyperspace capabilities. That’s all you need. You need to find somewhere remote. After that, you’ll figure it out from there. You have little money left, but being a medic means you’ll be able to find jobs easily. You can work anywhere. Someone’s always looking to hire medics. 

You just need to disappear from the Republic. 

*** 2 Years Later ***

You’re still dreaming. 

You had dreamed of the frozen darkness most out of everything. Occasionally you’d get more. Strange noises, things spoken in a language you couldn’t understand. Occasionally you’ll see flashes, images. You can never quite make them out. 

You think it might be your brain trying to get used to dreaming its own dreams again. Or perhaps it's your brain's way of trying to make up for the loss of your soulmate. The numbness has slowly faded into the background, though it hasn’t really left. You found a remote planet to live on, one far from war. You got a job at the medical center in a small town, the job almost boring compared to the heart racing adrenaline inducing insanity of the war. 

You don’t mind. It keeps you off the radar. 

You’ve built a decent life here in two years. As decent a life as you could, at least. You still feel empty and lonely. That longing feeling for your other half hasn’t left. The fact you know you’ll never get to have him only makes it worse. 

You cry more than you’d like to admit. You understand now why people don’t last long when their soulmate dies. You’d hardly call this living. More just simply existing. 

You have considered it. You can never quite bring yourself to. There’s always something in the back of your mind holding you back. Sometimes you wish you were brave enough. 

It’s one of those nights when it happens. 

***

It’s dark and cold again. It feels different this time. Something’s happening, but you’re confused. 

Suddenly the darkness is gone, and you’re staring at what seems to be a control room. 

“We-We have to get to the shuttle to escape the Citadel.” The voice echoes in your head. “No! I’ll go first!” 

“Echo.” Another voice says. “Echo, it’s Rex. I’m here.” 

A face enters your vision. You know that face. You’ve seen it many times. “Rex? You, you came back for me?” 

“Yes.” He looks guilty. “Yes I did.” 

“What, what happened? Where am I?” Your gaze swings to look around the room.

“It’s okay, Echo.” Your gaze is drawn back to Rex. “You’re safe now. Just sit tight trooper. You’re going home.” 

***

You startle awake, tears sliding down your cheeks. You stare at the wall across from your bed in disbelief. It can’t be...but it had felt like the other dreams. 

Has he been alive this whole time? 

Had he somehow survived the explosion? It would explain the other dreams, the lack of pain at his passing. Had your suffering been simply your own creation because you thought he was dead? 

Has he been alive this whole time? 

Your dream means he’ll be getting rescued today. Hope blooms inside you that it is true, that it is really a dream of what’s going to happen. Many feelings flood you for the first time in a long time. The numbness is pushed away as emotions bubble within you. You don’t know whether to be happy or worried or sad or relieved. All you can do is cry. Again. 

Of course, you’ll have no way of knowing if it really does come true. You have no connections in the GAR anymore, and you can’t risk them finding you. You did sort of desert the army and break your contract. You know a prison cell is waiting for you if you go back. 

Fate won’t give you a soulmate you’ll never meet. 

You’re not entirely sure you trust fate. It’s put you through the wringer, but with this new development, that could change. Maybe you will find your way together after all. 

You call out of work, knowing you won’t be able to focus. You hardly leave your bed, thinking over the dream, over the fact your soulmate is alive. The longer you lay there, the faster the regrets start seeping in. What if you hadn’t left the Republic? You could have found a way to finally get to him, to finally meet him for the first time. 

There was no guarantee. 

Fate won’t give you a soulmate you’ll never meet. Perhaps it was always meant to happen this way. Perhaps it was better if it happened this way. 

***

Your dreams return to normal as the months pass. Dreams of battles continue to be the most common. You see new faces now, faces you don’t recognize in your dreams through Echo’s eyes. Things have changed for him too. 

You’ve always wondered what he saw in his dreams. Battles too, you imagined, though different ones than the ones he partook in. You wonder if he ever saw the clones you couldn’t save, his brothers suffering, you attempting to save their lives. 

Your dreams must seem very boring now. 

You wonder if he had still dreamed of you during the period of...whatever had happened to him. You wonder if he feels relief seeing how different your life is now. You wonder what he thinks of you. 

You wonder if he even wants to meet you. 

You shake those thoughts away, burying yourself in your work at the medical center. You don’t want to think about it. Rejection was still a strong possibility. Between the war and the GAR and the fact that not everyone wanted a soulmate, he could still reject you. 

You force the thoughts away, focusing on your dreams instead. Watching what he’s doing, making sure he’s not going to die again. 

Then the war ends. 

Despite the war being over, chaos still ensues in the galaxy. You don’t trust the Empire, and that distrust only continues as your dreams continue. You watch the things that happen to Echo, and his eventual desertion. You’re helpless to do much but watch the events that transpire. 

You wait patiently, biding your time as Echo and his squad try to find their place in the galaxy. It feels almost wrong to have such a front row seat to the goings on in his life despite never having met him in person before. Then again, he has a front row seat to your life as well, though your life is much more boring than his, even now. 

As the weeks pass and the disruption continues in the galaxy, your new home planet remains entirely untouched. There wasn't much special about it. No major exports, no convenient hyperspace lanes nearby, no major cities. It's a perfect place to hide. 

Echo has also found a place to hide. You begin to see a place popping up in your dreams regularly. An idea begins to form in your head as you learn about the place in your dreams. 

Ord Mantell. 

Cid's Parlor. 

You could easily find that place. Ord Mantell's not far from your current home. You could reach it in a matter of hours. All you have to do is take time off work and jump in your scrap pile of a ship. 

The idea makes you nervous. What if he doesn't want to meet you? What if he rejects you? Years. Years you've been waiting for this. You spent years thinking he was dead. Now he's within reach and...you're scared. 

You dream of yourself that night. 

You've already made up your mind, or fate has made it for you. 

You're halfway to Ord Mantell before the sun rises on your home planet. 

***

Cid's Parlor is a rather seedy place. You've been in worse, but you suppose for a front it's perfect. You take the stairs slowly, trying to remember to breathe. This is the moment. Two years ago you would have been running in and throwing your arms around him. 

It's been a long two years. 

You enter the bar, the inside not any better than the outside. There's a weequay and an ithorian at a dejarik table, and then the five at the bar. You recognize them from your dreams. Well, you recognize four of them. 

You've never actually seen Echo. You were always seeing from his perspective. You always assumed he'd look like the other clones, but then you'd seen the new group he was with and realized maybe they don't all look alike. 

You can pick him out in the group by process of elimination. You recognize the other three, having seen them at various points, and then of course there's the girl. You take a long look at Echo, tears gathering in your eyes. 

You're so close. So close. 

"Echo?" You ask, the bar seeming to go quiet as soon as you say it. 

Everyone turns to look at you, brows furrowed in confusion. Echo steps back from the bar, staring at you. He's paler than the others, his face sunken and gaunt. There's a headset wrapped around his head, and you notice the cybernetic right arm. 

The furrow of his brows lift into shock, his eyes widening as he stares at you. He whispers your name, almost too quiet for you to hear. 

You're moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around him. He's solid and warm and his plastoid chest plate digs into your skin, but you don't care. He's real. 

His arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you against him. 

"I-I didn't think..." You sniffle, a tear sliding down your cheek. "Two years! I thought you were dead."

He lets out a chuckle, his hand sliding down your back. "Yeah. Everyone thought I was." 

You pull away as a throat clears beside you. Your cheeks warm a bit. You'd completely forgotten the others. 

"Echo...care to explain?" The one with the bandana, Hunter you think, asks. 

Echo slips his arm back around you, holding you against his side. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my soulmate."

The guarded look on Hunter's face lessens just a bit. You hadn't expected to be welcomed with open arms and trusted immediately. Not after the things you've seen. 

You get introduced to everyone, and you find yourself sitting at the bar, telling Echo all about yourself. Where you came from, how you joined the GAR, why you left, where you wound up. He knew a lot already. He'd dreamed of you occasionally during the two years you'd thought he was dead. He hadn't really understood what was happening during that time though. To be fair, you hadn't either. 

You talk a bit about them, filling in some gaps in your understanding of what was happening to them. 

"We need somewhere to lay low for a while." Hunter says. 

"Well, I just happen to know the perfect place." You say. "It kept me hidden from the Republic and there hasn't been even a glance from the Empire so far."

"It's out of the way of most hyperspace lanes." Tech says, typing away at his datapad. "No major cities or ports. Mostly self-sufficient. Nothing anyone would be interested in." 

You shrug. "It's not much, but it is safe." 

***

"We're going in that?" Echo asks as you stand next to your ship docked at the port. 

"Hey, don't hate on Bertha." You pat the side of the ship, something clanging inside. "She helped me escape the Republic."

You lower the ramp, having to fiddle with it as it sticks for a moment. Echo gives you an incredulous look but you wave him in. She may be a bit temperamental, but your ship has a special place in your heart. 

"Tech will have a heyday with this one if you let him get his hands on it." Echo says, taking the copilot's seat. 

"Well, he's more than welcome if he gets bored." You say, firing up the engine. "Can't make her any worse." You grin at him, giving the control panel a solid smack to stop it from rattling. 

Echo doesn't relax until you're in hyperspace. You don't take it personally. You had been a little nervous flying the first time but though she was prone to rattling, Bertha flew perfectly fine. 

You turn to look at Echo as the blue of hyperspace surrounds you. You reach out, pressing your hand to his cheek. His skin isn't as warm as you'd expect, your brow furrowing a little. 

His hand lifts, resting against yours. Your thumb strokes his cheek, reminding yourself that he's real. He's right here with you finally. 

"Echo...what happened to you?" You ask. 

And he tells you. You spend the entire trip listening to his story. He starts at the beginning, explaining things you knew and many you didn't. You listen to it all. The good, the bad, the heartbreaking. 

You cry for him a few times. Cry for the pain and the misery and the torture he's faced. He wipes your tears, dampening his glove but he doesn't seem to care. 

You talk almost the entire flight, catching up on years of missed time. Echo only slightly clings to the seat as Bertha drops from hyperspace and you begin the hour flight to your home planet. It's slow going, Bertha not exactly made for speed. 

The others are already there when you land, by no surprise. Though your home was small, you could offer them a roof over their head until they found something more permanent. 

If they decided to stay here. 

You try not to think about that too much. 

"Glad you made it." Hunter says, eyeing Bertha as you and Echo step off the ramp. 

"Not you too." You make a face. "She flies just fine, she's just got creaky joints."

You can already see the wheels turning in Tech's head as he eyes Bertha. You lead them inside, showing them your small house. You only have one spare room and a couch but they assure you they can just sleep on the ship. You feel bad, but then again you hadn't really been expecting this when you ran from the Republic. 

You hadn't expected a lot to happen. 

You make dinner, probably the first home cooked meal they've had in a long time, or possibly ever. Echo hovers in the kitchen but you don't mind. You like having him close after all this time. You're still a little afraid you'll turn around and find he's gone. Like he's been a figment of your imagination this whole time. 

They leave you and Echo the house for the night, and you can tell by the look on Hunter's face it's deliberate. You hadn't really considered that but you knew anything could happen after you meet your soulmate.

You find Echo in your room after you finish cleaning up. He's standing next to the bed, tracing the carving on the wall. 

CT-1409 

You'd carved it after hearing it again in your dream. You'd been half dazed, repeating the number over and over in your head. 

He turns to look at you, fingers resting in the center of the 9. Your cheeks warm a bit, not having thought about that. You just have his designation number carved in your wall. You might as well have his name there. 

"I did that after I heard it in a dream." You say, approaching the bed. "I couldn't get it out of my head." You crawl onto the bed, kneeling next to him. "I put it there because it felt like in a way you were still with me, though I know now you never left." 

He drops his hand, turning to face you. He looks a little guilty. "I'm sorry for putting you through that."

"Don't apologize for something you couldn't control." You say, putting your hand on his scomp arm. "You're here now. That's what matters." 

He glances down at your hand before looking back up at your face, those big brown eyes shining in the orange light of sunset shining in through your window. 

"I made a promise once." He says, staring at you. "To someone very close to me. We promised each other that after the war ended, we'd find our soulmates and settle down somewhere. Get married and have families. Grow old together far away from everything else."

You smile softly at him, gently guiding him to sit on your bed with you. "Well, I'd be more than happy to help you keep your part of the promise."

You sit with him, talking late into the night. There's no rush now. You have all the time in the world. 

***1 Year Later***

"Just a pinch of this." You say, blindly holding out the jar of spice. 

It's taken from your hand and set on the counter, your ears picking up the small clink of metal on tile. Hands grip your waist from behind as you stand on your toes to reach the second shelf of the cupboard. 

"You know I can reach those easily." Echo murmurs in your ear. 

You grin at him over your shoulder. "I know. I also know you love looking at my ass."

He practically purrs, hands sliding lower. "I do love your ass."

You press back into his hands, one flesh, the other cybernetic. He'd ditched the scomp a few months ago now that he's retired to a boring civilian life. 

"We don't have a lot of time before they get here." You say, straightening up to try and slip out from where he has you pinned to the counter.

He presses against you harder, hands moving to trap you between him and the counter. "They can wait for dinner." He breathes into your ear, pressing his half-hard cock against your ass. "I want dessert first."

You bite your lip, letting out a strangled moan as he grinds against you. "At least turn the burner off." You breathe. 

Echo presses a kiss to your neck before he pulls away, reaching back to shut off the stove. You turn in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as he turns back to you. 

He pins you against the counter once more, molding his lips against yours as his hands trail back down your sides. You deepen the kiss, pulling him even closer. You can feel him, fully hard against your stomach now. 

His hands grip your waist, easily lifting you onto the counter. One of your hands slides up to tangle in the curls that have regrown over the last few months. He groans quietly against your lips, hands parting your thighs for him. 

He steps between your legs, your skirt riding up around your waist, revealing your panties underneath. His fingers rub the damp fabric, teasing you before he tugs them aside, meeting your flesh. 

You moan into his mouth, pressing your hips into his hand as he circles your clit. You're already worked up just from kissing him, the familiar heat igniting under your skin from his touch. 

"Kriff." You breathe against his lips, grinding against his hand. "Make me feel so good."

He hums contently against your lips. "Good. You deserve to feel good." 

You slip a hand down his front, palming him through his pants. "I'd feel better with you inside me, though.".

He grins, pressing one more steamy kiss against your lips. "Yes, ma'am."

You shriek as he tugs you right to the edge of the counter, holding you steady with one hand while the other pulls his cock from his pants. 

You wrap your arms back around his neck as he presses close between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. You moan quietly, playing with the ends of his hair as he slowly presses into you. 

He groans, pressing his face into your neck as he slides into your warm passage, your body wet and ready for him. 

It never gets old, the feeling being so connected to him invokes. Your very soul seems to hum with pleasure from being so close, so connected. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he settles inside you. 

He presses a soft kiss to your lips as you sit in the moment for just a second, savoring the feeling before he begins moving. His thrusts are slow yet deliberate. They reach deep into you, the tip of his cock brushing that spot inside you over and over. 

You won't last long, you know it as your legs begin to tremble around him. You moan against his lips, hands fisting his shirt as he picks up the pace just a little. 

You whine as you cum around him, milking his own orgasm from his body. He moans into your neck, holding you tightly as he spills into you. 

You stay still, just breathing and feeling each other for a few moments. Your hands gently massage his neck and his shoulders, easing the ache you know he feels from his cybernetics sometimes. 

He presses gentle kisses to your neck, not enough to leave marks but still enough to pull quiet sounds from your lips.  

He kisses a trail up your jaw to your lips, both of you pausing at the knock on the door. 

"Hunter's gonna know." You murmur against his lips. 

"He probably already does." Echo says, kissing you once more. "Probably heard us halfway down the street."

Your cheeks warm as he pulls away from you, fixing his clothes before helping you look presentable as well. You turn on the stove once more before pulling out the disinfectant spray. 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry @ladytano @freesia-writes @dangraccoon @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @stunkbiggu @endofthexline @padawancat97 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @rosechi @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @maddiedrmr @gwalchmai2970 @clonemedickix @anxiouspineapple99 @idontgetanysleep @originalcollectionartistry @thrawnspetgoose @thorsterstrudle @littlemissmanga @sinfulsalutations @dystopicjumpsuit @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @blueink-bluesoul @wings-and-beskar @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator

[cursed-peanut]

About the reunited au (tw suicide)

What if after realising how bad sukuna is reader ends her life instead of moving someplace very far and starting a new life. I mean she finds herself in a completely different era and the man who she loved for so long isn't who she thought he was. Plus the guilt from sharing stuff about gojo, i could imagine she would have a very hard time and it would be interesting to see how sukuna would react if she ended the turmoil for herself in this way. Would he destroy everything in a fit of rage or feel responsible and guilty for her death and stop? Idk i think this could be interesting but i do realise its a quite heavy topic so no worries :)

TW// SUICIDE

This is definitely something that could happen.

Reader was last in the real world 1,000 years ago, the world has changed hugely since then. Sure, they know some things about the new world (curtesy to the students at Jujutsu High and Gojo) but everything’s so new and overwhelming. So starting anew in a world Reader doesn’t know would be daunting and terrifying.

The only consistent person in Reader’s life was Sukuna, but after finding out who he truly is, Reader would become even more lost in this new world. With the realisation and guilt that Sukuna was exploiting Reader’s love to get information about Gojo and then Gojo’s death, everything would shatter.

In every version of the ending, Gojo’s death will always be the tipping point for Reader. He’s helped them so much and was a great guy who only wanted the best for Reader.

I can 100% see Reader being so devastated and overwhelmed that they would end it all.

Sukuna would be absolutely destroyed by Reader’s death, and even more so because they took it themself. He would blame himself for Reader’s death (which it is), and then it would go one of many ways.

Sukuna would become so depressed and ashamed, he would end it all as well.

Sukuna would become so angry about Reader’s death, he would destroy the world, kill everyone and then himself.

Sukuna would carry on with his plan for the perfect future in the name of Reader’s legacy and memory. However, he would never truly be happy as they are not there but he continues to live his life anyway as punishment for pushing Reader towards their demise.

Sukuna would stop all the killing, make amends with everyone and try to become a better being for the sake of Reader. However, he still would be unhappy as his one true love is gone and he will never see them again thanks to his blindness and stupidity.

There are many more possibilities where he lives, but if he does, he would never be truly happy. Reader is the only person he actually cares about and to have them dead is effectively killing Sukuna.

————————————

Taglist: @makuzume @spicyhyunn @pearlescentwonderland @namjooningera @six-eyed-samurai @natriae @domainofmarie @lixern @fluttershyfangs @girlyuuta @anabort @yu-87 @sukunaglazer4ever @madison777x @nothankyew @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @dervngedgf @calisnewworld @ilybbg @the-banshee @mostnormalsukunastan2024real @williamafton26 @alinacore @mythoswarrior-23 @megantheefann @mindless-rock @kimsunoo2003 @anayesha1 @lelelenlenn @shyshybabyy @unlikelystay @shigemis0ra @iloveboysinred @eresel4mordemivid4 @meo66 @frozen-waffles @awispywillow @youngghostpeachslime @mrsslytherin00 @lazyperfectioniste @whosmarjj @princess-peachys @itawifeyy @sugurubabe @lalalandincraz @hanniebanggi @mrs-monkey-d-luffy @sukunadckrider @shadowlover321 @mwtsxri @lysaray @kakashi-addict @blindbabycadder @qmsvpx @bakedpotato12 @poisnhoneyy @wooasecret

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[abbs-writes]

talk too much | part 2 | Spencer Reid

Warnings: ⚠️ MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️ mentions of depression, self hatred, suicidal ideation, pills, mentions of taking pills, overall very very very depressing

Authors note: hi hi! So this part is very depressing so please read at your own risk, remember you mental health matters and I won't be hurt if you can't read it or don't even want to. But im thinking about writing a part 3 with a happy ending but im not sure yet! I'll let yall know!

Spencer was right when he thought you'd change. You changed so quickly it scared him. He hated how quiet you were now. You didn't have any snarky comebacks anymore, you didn't make jokes with him anymore. You were so quiet it was alarming. He understood why, going through something so traumatic changes you as a person. It had only been a week but he still hoped he could get through to you. He would try everything in his power too.

You spent a lot of time in bed, resting of course but even after that you refused to move from your shared bed. You spent a lot of time looking out the window trying to remember how it all happened so you wouldn't mess up like that again. But you couldn't remember no matter how hard you tried, it made your head hurt how much you tried. Spencer found you like this every morning, knees brought up to your chest as you stared out the window. This morning was no different. "Hey," he said softly. You hummed in response, eyes not leaving the window as you stared at the raindrops falling down the glass. "Do you want breakfast? I can-" he started but you shook your head, "not hungry," you mumbled. "You didn't have dinner last night, you need to eat." He said but you just shrugged. "I'll make you something before I leave." He said.

He really didn't want to leave but he had missed a week of work and they needed him back. He made some waffles, just the ones you stick in the toaster. He brought them to you, setting them on the bedside table. "You know, if you need me to I can stay." He said but you didn't answer, too caught up in your own thoughts to care. "Like if you don't feel safe, I can stay." He added but there was still no response. He felt uneasy, so uneasy he wanted to call in, say something came up and you needed him but he couldn't. "I'll be back before you know it, okay?" He said but once again, you didn't give him a response. He left even though his gut told him not to.

You didn't touch the waffles, you didn't feel like eating. You could see yourself declining, as if watching yourself from outside of your body. You could see it, you could feel it, but you couldn't stop it. All you could do was sit and let it happen. You wanted to beg for help, tell Spencer you needed him but your mind wouldn't let you. You talked too much. You begged too much. You were too much. You knew you were. Deep down you knew it was just your mind repeating the words of a bat shit crazy unsub but yet, you didn't have it in yourself to fight the thoughts off.

It took you almost two hours to get out of bed and away from the nasty thoughts in your head. You stood up, holding your sore stomach. You had burns from the taser, a nasty reminder of what happened to you. You walked to the bathroom but as you entered you wished you hadn't. You saw yourself in the mirror, you looked horrible, tired. Not to mention the fading bruise on your face from being hit in the head and subdued. Your body still ached from everything that happened. You gripped the bathroom sink, you didn't want to live like this, you didn't want to look like this. You were starting to spiral and you could feel it.

You couldn't bring yourself to shower, too achy to care. You stumbled off to the kitchen, you needed water. Your hands were so shaky as you grabbed a glass. You almost immediately dropped it, watching it shatter on the floor. You closed your eyes tightly, your eyes watering. "Please," you whispered, you weren't even sure why. You stepped back carefully after opening your eyes. You didn't have it in you to clean it up, you didn't even want water anymore. You walked back to the bedroom with shaking hands. You crawled back into bed, pulling the covers over you as you stared out the window. You couldn't live like this.

Somehow, someway, you felt like a failure. Like you had let someone down, like you had let spencer down and now he was having to deal with you. You felt like a burden, a problem, a puzzle with so many pieces missing that you would never be put back together. This wasnt Spencer's problem to solve, it was yours. You glanced at the bedside table and your heart sank. "No," you whispered, closing your eyes and shaking your head. "No, I-I don't want to do that," you whispered, tears spilling from your eyes. You hated yourself for what you were thinking, it was a permanent solution for what could be a temporary problem. You could work through it, you knew that, but you wondered if it was truly worth it. To make Spencer go through all this pain with you. He didn't deserve that. Your eyes opened again. You wished that bottle wasn't in your line of sight so you pushed the bottle off the table and let it clatter to the floor, the pills spilling everywhere.

"Please," you kept whispering to yourself, hoping to go the thought would go away. You were plagued with so much and you didn't need suicidal ideation added to the list. You grabbed your pillow, stuffing your face in it as you cried. You wanted to cry, you wanted to wear yourself out so you'd sleep, so you wouldn't think about what you wanted to do. You didn't need to put Spencer through that, he's been through so much and you didn't wanna add your death to that list. You clutched onto the pillow for dear life. "Please, i don't wanna do this," you cried, begging to no one but your own thoughts.

Spencer didn't feel good leaving you. It pained him, hurt him, scared him. So he left early. He went back home, opening the door, "I'm back!" He called out. He set his bag down, noticing the broken glass on the floor. "Y/n?" He called out, examining the broken glass but there were no signs of blood. He left it as he walked to the bedroom. "Y/n!" He saw you on the floor and he quickly ran over to you. You held a pillow in your lap as you cried. "Y/n, did you take these?" He asked, looking at the pills and counting them to make sure they were all accounted for. You shook your head, "n-no but i wanted to. Spencer I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," you cried. "Hey, it's okay," he pushed the pills away and moved to sit next to you. He pulled you into his arms as you cried. "I-I need help Spencer, im sorry." You sobbed. "Don't be sorry, okay? That's what I'm here for, im here to help, okay?" He said. He knew he might not be equipped for all the things you needed help with but he was going to try. "Spence, i need- I need professional help." You sobbed into his arms. "Okay, we can do that. We can find you a therapist, maybe a psychiatrist. We'll get it all worked out, okay?" He cooed, stroking your hair. "I'm sorry," was all you could say. You felt so bad, you felt horrible for making him go through this. "Don't ever be sorry, okay? I got you. We can get through this. I'll be right by your side every step of the way." He said, kissing your forehead. He held you as you cried, refusing to let go even after you stopped crying. He would never let you go through this alone. You would always have him, whether you knew it or not.

[madi-writes-things]

Francesca Pt. 1

Summary:

It broke Schlatt when he had to let Y/N go, But he would go through hell a thousand times if it meant he got to hold her again.

“If I could hold you for a minute… I’d go through it again.”

Word Count: 1.09 K

TW: Mental Illness, angst, ocd, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, break up, pining, feelings of worthlessness, basically a self insert without a physical description, Based in Texas… because so am I

A/N: I’m totally ok, and definitely not scared of my mental illness… 👀

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

My bags are packed before Jay gets home. I don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be. I should probably leave before he gets here, but he deserves an explanation. I’m not really sure what to say when he gets here, but he doesn’t deserve to be ghosted…

When the door opens I regret my decision to stay. He’s holding an H-E-B bag with frozen pizzas and ranch.

My favorite.

The second he locks eyes with me I break down. The bag falls from his hand as he rushes to pull me into a hug.

“What’s wrong pumpkin? What happened?” His voice is filled love and tenderness, very different from his online persona. It makes me cry harder.

“I can’t do this Jay… I-” He pulls me impossibly closer, mumbling a quiet ‘don’t do this’. “I already packed everything into my car. I can’t ask you to stay, I wouldn’t do that to you…”

He knows that I’ve been struggling lately, but I would never ask him to understand the extent of my anguish. I could never tell him about my hours spent researching. The notes. The fear of being alone with myself.

All I’ve ever wanted is to marry the man of my dreams, and have a big family. My mind constantly tells me that I can’t have it…

Nobody would want to deal with you, he’d get tired of it eventually. What if your kids are crazy like you? You don’t want to run the risk that he has to find you dea-

“You aren’t doing anything to me, you don’t have to do this… we can get through this, we can get you whatever help you need… please…”

I’m doing this because I love him. I can tell when he sees the look in my eyes, he mumbles a quick okay before leaving to put the pizzas in the freezer.

I run to lock myself in the bathroom… I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“”“”“”“”“”

When I finally get myself together, I leave the bathroom on a mission to get out quickly. It takes me a while before I realize what’s happening.

“where the hell did you put my keys Jay?” I see him sitting at our table, set with two plates of pizza and two glasses of wine.

“You’re not driving right now… I just heard you have a twenty minute panic attack, you’re in no headspace to drive.” I know he won’t give me the keys, no matter how much I try to convince him. “Do you even have anywhere to go?” I just shake my head. He gets up and walks into our bedroom.

I can hear him on the phone with Ted, he’s asking if I can stay in LA with him. When he returns, we sit down to eat the now cold pizza.

“What did he say?” I didn’t necessarily want to move across the country, but we both know I wouldn’t be able to actually leave well enough alone if I stayed.

I can tell that he’s been crying, but I know that this is what’s truly best for him in the long run. “He said yes, obviously. I’ll drive you to his place, and catch a flight back.” I knew that there was no convincing him to leave me alone for extended periods of time… I wonder if Ted told him not to let me out of his sight.

He probably did.

After dinner Jay offers to sleep on the couch, but I tell him that I don’t want our last night to be spent in different parts of the house.

He holds me as I cry myself to sleep.

This is what’s best for him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The nearly twenty hour drive was silent, stopping whenever the gas gauge lit up. Jay always knew what to get me from the gas station, while I stayed in the car reading. About halfway through the ride he finally decided to play some music, our shared playlist flowing through the tense atmosphere.

I decided to take a nap at some point, and was awoken by Jay gently shaking my shoulder while handing me some food that he had gotten. “We’ve only got about an hour left… you need to eat, and I think we should talk about it.”

No. You can’t handle this, the car ride is hell as is… and now he wants you to talk about why you’re breaking his heart?

“There’s not much to talk about Jay… there isn’t any way to convince me that it was a mistake.” I can see the hurt look in his eyes when I say it, and I really didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. “I love you so much… and I promise, this is for you.”

He starts to try and argue, before settling on asking about publicity. My only response is that we can deal with it separately. I finish my food, and finish the last few chapters of my book.

“”“”“”“”“”

It takes less than an hour to move all of my stuff into Ted’s guest room.

Ted is my best friend, and we’ve known each other for years. He introduced me to the job prospects of the internet. He introduced me to all of his colleagues when I was first starting on YouTube…

He introduced me to Jay.

After helping move everything in, Jay got ready to fly out. He said a quick goodbye to me, before going outside to talk to Ted.

They were out there for a really long time.

What if he’s convincing Ted that you are a horrible person?

What if they’re working together to get you put away?

What if you opened the window?

What if you jumped?

My phone is in my hand immediately, looking up the likelihood of injury/death from a second story jump. Very unlikely. Shit.

All of the sudden, the walls feel too close. The window is too far. I hear Jay’s Uber leaving, and everything starts to collapse.

This was a mistake. I just ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s too late. He hates me. I should have just left a note and Jumped off the congress avenue bridge.

I can’t breathe.

I hear a soft knock at my door, and hear it creak open. Ted sits down in front of me, placing my hand on his chest. We work on breathing exercises that he taught me years ago. When I finally feel slightly normal, he pulls me into a tight hug.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos @memento-rory

[theetherealbloom]

NO COMPLAINTS | JOEL MILLER

No Complaints | J.Miller One Shot

Summary: In the peaceful town of Jackson, life seems stable. Ellie has found some sense of belonging, but for you, life remains a constant struggle due to the trauma you carry. You've faced loss, isolation, and danger, and you're not sure where you fit in. That's when you cross paths with Joel Miller, a man with a haunted past and a heart hidden beneath a tough exterior.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Age-Gap (Late 20s - Early 30s) Angst, Hurt-to-Comfort, soft!joel, suicide ideation, Almost SA (dw nothing gets that far), Assault, Abuse, Blood, Injury, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attack, Slavery, Ellie and Joel had talked through their problems and everything is ok so no golf =D

A/N: This fic by @familyvideostevie titled “the meaning of it all” inspired me to write again after a long-ass writing slump. Literally, go read all of her fics cause they're just THAT good. Tbh, I’m not sure if this was even good to post since I’ve been out of practice. This one is a little darker than my usual writing, idk how it happened… it just does… so remember the trigger warning ya’ll!

Song: No Complaints by Noah Kahan

MAIN MASTERLIST

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You always thought that you’d find peace in never being awake long enough to feel anything. You lay there staring at the red marks on the hillside and the sharp grooves in the bark of the trees, and you couldn't help but wonder how you got to be in this desolate spot. Your feet, which were now exposed and rough, bore witness to a difficult journey.

All you knew is that one moment, you were fighting for your life from a group of raiders a few miles North, and you ended up where you lay. Had it been minutes? Hours? You weren’t sure as your vision was blurry and hazy, only saw the bleak white winter sky, you could hear crows cawing in the distance as you were freezing, and the snowflakes were on your lashes as you lay there in the snow.

Memories were a blur, time a mysterious riddle. One second, you had been immersed in a life-and-death conflict with savage captors who had enslaved you many kilometers to the South. In the next, you were in this desolate, snow-covered setting, with no clear explanation for how you had arrived. You saw the world through hazy glasses, your eyesight clouded, and all you could see was the stark winter sky, pure and cruel. As you lay there, a lonely soul in the middle of the cold wilderness, the eerie cries of far-off crows provided a haunting tune to your frost-chilled daydream. Each snowflake rested sweetly upon your eyelids.

A ghostly mist danced in front of your eyes with each breath, a whispered reminder of life's fragileness. You tried to relish these fading moments with every exhausted breath out. You felt tired and under pressure from having survived for a long time. You had endured the storm for a long amount of time, seeing pathetically as those you loved died, leaving a thick veil of grief, guilt, and unremitting agony in their wake.

You ached for relief, an end to the never-ending agony that had become your daily existence. During those last seconds, as your eyes closed like a curtain shutting on a world of hopelessness, you heard the muted voices of a group of strangers and the distant sound of galloping horses. A lone figure towered above you, their voice a beacon crying for assistance, while the warmth of your own tears blended with the chill on your cheeks. 

“Please… make it stop,” you gasped, the words escaping your trembling lips like fragile whispers, hanging heavy in the frigid air. "I just want it… to stop." And with that, at that very fragile moment, you gave yourself up to the gentle embrace of the gathering darkness.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

How you awoke unfolded gradually, like the faintest of whispers. First, a parched throat and chapped lips stirred you, and then the sensation of the plush pillow cradling your head, the yielding mattress beneath, and a soft blanket cocooning your form.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you hesitantly blinked awake, and an immediate panic surged within you, constricting your chest. The world around you was unfamiliar, and a gnawing uncertainty clawed at your psyche. Was this a new iteration of hell on Earth?

A relentless drumming, your heartbeat, echoed in your ears, and your vision swirled with chaos as you scanned the alien surroundings. You used your forearms to hoist yourself from the bed, your chest rising and falling with the rapid pace of your breath.

Then, the door swung open, revealing a man in a pristine white doctor's coat, clutching a clipboard. "Oh, you're awake," he began, but your question cut through his words like a knife.

"Where am I?" you demanded, urgency coloring your voice.

"You're safe," he assured, though the reassurance felt as hollow as an echo.

Driven by an instinct you couldn't fathom, you sprang from the bed, the IV drip yanked free from your left hand, a sharp sting preceding the rush of cool air against your skin. Barefoot and resolute, you pushed past the doctor, racing down the dimly lit hallway, your footsteps echoing in the empty, sterile corridors.

With a beating heart, you reach the end of the dimly illuminated corridor and see two enormous doors. With bated breath, you lunged forward, pushing them open and preparing yourself for whatever horrors could be behind them. You expected to be in another harsh and terrible location where the only things that remained consistent were torture and cruelty.

To your astonishment, you found yourself in a simple, wintry town. People of all ages populated the snow-covered streets. Elderly residents chatted quietly on porches, and children giggled and played, their rosy cheeks contrasting with the chilly air. The adults turned in surprise at your unexpected arrival, their faces mirroring a mix of curiosity and concern.

From behind, the approaching doctor and nurses shouted, their voices filled with alarm. In the midst of your confusion and disarray, a strong pair of arms encircled you, causing your instincts to scream in fear. 

"Let go of me!" you cried out, struggling in the grip that held you captive.

A soft, heavy southern accent whispered gently in your ear, "You're okay... you're safe here. Ain't no one here gonna hurt you, darlin'."

Your fear intensified as you flailed and cried inside the confining hold. But you didn't notice the abrupt, stinging prick on your neck because you were too caught up in the chaotic mayhem. The environment around you became blurry and black in a couple of minutes.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The patrol had begun like any other routine, just another day in the relentless grind of survival. The plan was straightforward: coming across a few Clickers and eliminating them like they were just annoyances to be removed. What he had not expected, though, was to stumble across a lady who was on the verge of dying of hypothermia. 

“Please… make it stop,” you begged in a voice so soft and fragile, "I just want it… to stop."

Joel couldn't ignore the desperation in your pleas. He'd been there before, when the world had crumbled into chaos, and he'd lost his daughter. Back then, he saw no point in carrying on, until he'd met Ellie and endured the hardships alongside her. He found her, protected her, and now, he cared for her as if she were his own.

Joel stood there, just across the street from the clinic, his weary eyes and gruff exterior a testament to the countless trials he'd faced. Those brave enough to ask for the details of what had transpired a few days earlier, who he had discovered, were met with curt, direct responses, followed by an icy, hard stare. 

He'd assumed that Maria, Tommy, or whoever had been entrusted with integrating newcomers into Jackson would take care of you. So, for the past few days, he went about his life as best he could—patrolling, teaching Ellie how to play the guitar, constructing new homes, and restoring old ones.

But as he made his way to assist Tommy with yet another task, he saw you in the middle of the street, awake and in a state of panic, clad in your medical gown. His chest constricted with a sudden, unexplainable urgency, and without a second thought, he was sprinting towards you, clutching you against his chest in an attempt to ground you.

Now, you were back in the small room of the clinic, asleep due to the sedative they had administered. Joel sat in a chair beside your bed, patiently awaiting your awakening. He couldn't quite comprehend why he felt drawn to be by your side, to ensure your well-being. He closed his eyes, pressing both palms to his face, contemplating the reason he felt so adamant about your recovery.

Maybe it was the way he had glimpsed the hopelessness in your eyes, a reflection of his own prior misery. The way you had pled, already having given up on yourself, touched a chord within him. He understood that sensation all too well. Despite the plethora of sins he had committed, perhaps aiding you was a chance for atonement, a way to make amends for everything he’s done.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You stirred from your slumber, feeling the haze of grogginess envelop you as your weary eyes fought to open. Gradually, your vision sharpened, and you found yourself in a familiar place. This time, you weren't alone.

Across from your bed, a figure sat in a chair. His countenance was rugged, marked by the passage of time, a salt-and-pepper beard framing a face etched with the stories of his life. His presence exuded a rugged handsomeness, even as he raised a quizzical eyebrow in your direction.

In a deep baritone, his voice resonated through the room as he uttered the words, "You're awake."

You shifted uneasily on the bed and looked at him with wide, unsure eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. His piercing look was enigmatic; you didn't know how to respond, so you decided to be quiet, entangled in a fog of uncertainty.

With a soft hum, he introduced himself, "The name is Joel… Joel Miller. What's your name, ma'am?" His voice carried an air of gruff kindness that gently nudged you to respond, yet you found it hard to meet his gaze. Your eyes darted everywhere but his, and you said your name in a shy whisper, leaving it hanging there like a delicate secret.

Joel's voice wavered as he began, "I'm... I'm not exactly supposed to be here, but I—" 

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes squinted with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as you interrupted, "Then, why are you here?"

His words stumbled and faltered. "I... I don't—"

Frustrated with the lack of a clear answer, you turned your gaze away from him, your attention drawn to the frosted glass window on your left. Joel fell silent, respecting your need for space.

After a brief pause, you nodded toward the outside, your voice soft, inquisitive. "Is it real?" Joel waited for you to elaborate, and you continued, "There are kids playing in the street, no FEDRA, elderly being taken care of... it all seems so..."

"Normal," Joel finished your thought, and you snapped your head back to him, watching him nod in agreement. "Yeah, I couldn't quite believe it myself, to be honest," he admitted, clearing his throat. "Jackson is a safe place, a good community. They've got real food here."

A weary, exasperated chuckle escaped your lips as you felt a lump form in your throat, and your eyes grew watery. You hugged yourself tightly, seeking comfort in your embrace as you confessed, "I... I don't know what to do."

"We'll figure it out, darlin'," Joel reassured you, his words infused with a tenderness that pierced through his rugged exterior. It was a kindness you hadn't expected, a gentle ember igniting a glimmer of hope within you. Maybe, you began to believe, that life wasn't supposed to be a never-ending punishment after all.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Solidarity was something you thought was long gone ever since the beginning of the apocalypse, where the Infected had taken what they wanted, and the remaining people who survived will always be at war with each other rather than fighting the common enemy.

It took more than a few tries, but eventually, you got the hang of things, thanks to Maria and Tommy, and especially Joel and Ellie. Bits and pieces intertwined with time got you to understand them better and sometimes made you feel less alone. Your mind sometimes wonders how Joel and Ellie met, when Joel practically adopted Ellie as his own, or how they got to Jackson.

You’ve got a house that you have made your own, a bed, and a kitchen. You help give back to the community in ways that you can. You helped in the greenhouse, and the stables, and when you were finally ready, you went out patrolling with the group when you were up for rotation.

Initially, you kept to yourself, often skipping breakfast, lost in a peculiar silence that enveloped you like a shroud. It was a protective cocoon, a way to conceal yourself as if you were an isolated island adrift in a sea of people. The presence of others had always unnerved you, a lingering fear that refused to release its grip.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Taking charge of the stables for the month had its perks, especially when it came to tending to the horses—an undertaking that ranked high among your favorite chores. While two other residents were technically assigned to work with you, the majority of your time was spent in the solitary company of the majestic creatures.

In the quiet embrace of the early morning, just before the crucial handover to the patrolling team, you busied yourself ensuring the horses were well-fed and prepared. Running your fingers through Scout's mane, one of the older stallions, you continued the rhythmic task of brushing his coat, a tranquil hum escaping your lips.

"S'cuse me," a voice interrupted, and you jolted at the familiar sound. Turning your head, you found Joel, surprisingly up and about at this early hour. Mouth slightly agape, you greeted him breathlessly, "Joel, hi."

"Up early for patrol today... so... was wonderin' if you needed any help," Joel's gravelly voice broke through the quiet serenity of the stables.

You tilted your head, a subtle quirk of curiosity. The unexpected shyness emanating from Joel piqued your interest. Scanning him up and down, you suppressed a smile before nodding, trying to appear nonchalant despite the fluttering in your chest. "Um, sure... Could you feed the rest of the horses over there?"

He nodded in acknowledgment before moving with seasoned ease to attend to the horses, his hands moving confidently as he handled the feed and navigated the familiar routine of caring for the animals. As he worked alongside you in the quietude of the stables, the bond between caretaker and horses, and perhaps something more, unfolded in the soft morning light.

"How are you settlin' in in town, darlin'?" Joel inquired, his voice dipped in a gentle southern charm that sent a delightful shiver down your spine. The term of endearment he used left you feeling a sweet warmth spreading throughout your body.

You shrugged, a subtle smile playing on your lips. "Jackson is good, quiet, and peaceful. Never thought a place like this could still exist after... everything."

Joel's gaze lingered on you, and he couldn't help but note, "Well, it's got its charm. People here look out for each other. You included darlin'." His words held a quiet sincerity, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

Your eyes shifted around, a flutter of nerves settling in before gathering enough courage to meet Joel's gaze. You licked your lip nervously, and the words tumbled out, "Joel, I... I never apologized when I... um... first arrived here in Jackson. I'm sorry."

Joel looked at you, seeing the vulnerability in your eyes, and a softness overcame him. He offered you a sympathetic smile, "Nothin' to apologize for."

"You must have thought I was crazy," you lamely laughed, and Joel shook his head, his voice gentle, "No, not at all, just someone who's hurtin'."

You stared at him wide-eyed, feeling a phantom fear of tragedy as if he could see through you, still aware of any negative tendencies you may have. It evoked a sense of helplessness and vulnerability.

Then, a flicker of something in his gaze—a fire, a subtle intensity that caused warmth to spread across your face. An unspoken connection kindled in the quiet space between you, creating an inexplicable but undeniable bond.

Unable to hold his gaze, you looked away, clearing your throat, and tried to hide your smile as you continued to brush out Scout's mane. Joel smirked, watching you duck your head, proud of the way he made you react with just his gaze. The unspoken words hung in the air, a sweet tension that hinted at something more than apologies and simple conversations.

“So… what’s today’s patrol route?” You asked, trying to move the conversation, Joel walked over to you and finished feeding the horses, he stood in front of you and sighed, “Should be a quick one, makin’ sure there aren’t any infected or raiders nearby.”

Time flew by in the hypnotic flow of discussion with Joel before you realized it. His patrol partner eventually arrived, signaling the end of your stolen moments together. As you handed over the reins to Joel, a subtle thrill coursed through you when your hand brushed against his. A soft smile graced your lips, and you whispered, "Stay safe out there, Cowboy."

In response, Joel's steely exterior softened, and a rare, small smile played on his lips. He nodded, meeting your gaze with a warmth that transcended the casual camaraderie. "I will, darlin'," he affirmed, the endearment lingering in the air like a promise.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The kitchen at Jackson bustled with activity, and you were focused on the mundane task of chopping carrots for the evening's stew. Gemma, a fellow resident assisting you, had stepped outside to discuss some news with an acquaintance. The day seemed ordinary, a haze of familiar routines in the post-apocalyptic town.

But then, it happened. A deafening crash of the door bursting open shattered the tranquility, causing you to jolt in fear. Instantly, you were transported back in time, your mind torn from the kitchen and thrust into a nightmare you thought you'd escaped.

In an instant, you weren't in Jackson anymore. Instead, you found yourself in that dreadful place, that sinister basement that still haunted your darkest memories. It was as if the chains that once bound your ankles were clinking and dragging across the worn wooden floor again, just as they had back then. The echoes of your fellow captives' whimpers and cries resonated in your ears, the cacophony of despair down the hall of that wretched basement.

The room seemed to whirl around you, and a frantic panic welled up inside, a chilling flood of memories surging through your mind like an unstoppable tide. It was as if the past, a nightmare you believed you had left behind, had come crashing back into your reality. 

Your throat constricted, and tears welled in your eyes, blurring the faces of the people and the clatter of the fallen knife in the kitchen. You couldn't bear it any longer. You couldn't pretend that everything was okay. You couldn't ignore the haunting echoes of the past any longer.

Without a second thought, you dashed past the bewildered onlookers in the kitchen, their voices fading into a distant, indistinct hum. Your pounding footsteps carried you through the dining hall and out into the crisp, autumn air.

Outside, you continued to run, propelled by an inexplicable urge to escape. The scene before you spun as you sprinted past, driven by an overwhelming need to distance yourself from the nightmarish memories that had clawed their way back to the surface.

Reaching the stables, you sought refuge by pressing your trembling hand against the cool, aged wood of the railing. It was a familiar anchor in this moment of turmoil, offering some semblance of support as your chest heaved, each breath drawn in ragged gasps. Your other hand clung to your racing heart as if to prevent it from leaping out of your chest.

Overwhelmed by emotions too powerful to contain, you eventually collapsed to your knees on the straw-strewn ground of the stables. There, amid the scents of hay, horses, and leather, you allowed yourself to succumb to the tidal wave of anguish. It was a cathartic release, an outpouring of pent-up pain, as you wept for the horrors of the past and for the insidious trauma that still gripped your very soul. The weight of the past was crushing, and a foreboding sense of its unending presence gnawed at you.

Amid the silent stables, in the hushed serenity of the autumn afternoon, your sorrow reverberated through the air. The horses nearby snorted and shifted, sensing your distress. Through your blurry vision, you made out the form of your own horse, Spirit, a palomino, whinnying and restlessly pawing the ground. Even he could perceive your distress.

With a heavy heart, you surrendered to the overwhelming emotions, curling into yourself. You buried your head in your arms, seeking refuge from the maelstrom within.

Time was elusive in that moment of vulnerability, and you couldn't gauge how long you remained in that cocoon of pain. It was the gentle touch of someone's hand on your shoulder that finally roused you from your anguish. Startled, you jolted and flinched backward, your tear-soaked eyes locking onto the familiar figure before you. 

It was Joel. He knelt on the stable floor, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. His hands were lifted in a gesture of surrender, a silent assurance that he meant no harm. His voice, as gruff and comforting as ever, reached out to you with reassurance, "Hey, sweetheart, it's just me. Nothin's gonna hurt'cha."

You felt yourself wrapping your arms around Joel in a vulnerable moment as if motivated by an unsaid desire for comfort rather than condemnation. He hesitated for an instant, but then he threw his powerful arms around you and held you close to his chest. Tears poured easily into his flannel, his hold's warmth providing a haven from the cold.

His hand moved with a soothing rhythm on the small of your back, a gesture meant to calm the storm raging within you. In that quiet corner of the stables, amidst hay and the comforting scent of horses, you let out the pain that had long been buried.

Word had traveled through the residents about the outburst you experienced, reaching Maria's ears. Concern etched on her face, she went to check on you, only to discover your broken state in Joel's embrace on the stable floor. A shared look between Maria and Joel conveyed an understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the solace he provided. Without a word, Maria nodded in appreciation before quietly walking away, leaving you in the tender care of Joel's comforting arms.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Funny how it all fades away, the chaos of the world and the turmoil within, the very moment you surrender to Joel's arms. It's as if the universe aligns with the comforting embrace, reshaping the way it spins. You find yourself rearranged, your mind shifting, holding on a little tighter in the safety of your old age.

Your past, a fragile tapestry of pain, remains untold, hidden away from prying eyes. No one had ever asked, and the memories were not something you carried with pride.

Before you knew it, tears had given way to exhaustion, and you had surrendered to the solace Joel provided, falling into a peaceful slumber in his arms. Joel, unable to disturb your tranquil rest, gathered the strength to lift you with a gentle grace. Carrying you across the farmhouse they called home, he navigated the familiar halls with the kind of care one reserves for something precious.

In his bedroom, he gently laid you down on the bed, tucking you in with a blanket. You slept soundly, undisturbed by the world outside. Closing the door with a soft click, Joel rested his head against the wood, his tired eyes reflecting the weight of concern.

A voice sliced through the quiet, shattering Joel's contemplation. "Watcha hidin' in there?" Ellie's words caught him off guard, and he jumped, a whispered curse escaping him, "Fuck! Christ, kid, you almost gave me a damn heart attack."

Ellie leaned against the doorframe, her eyes studying Joel's worn expression. "Who's in there?" she asked, her curiosity tinged with concern.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his grizzled hair as he said your name, "She needed someone, kid. Don't worry, she's asleep now." He could see the questions forming in Ellie's eyes, and he continued, "She didn't need to be alone, not tonight."

Ellie's gaze softened, her understanding silently conveyed. "Need any help?" she offered, the bond between them speaking volumes in the unspoken connection.

Joel shook his head. "Nah, I got it covered. Get some rest, Ellie."

As Ellie retreated to her space in the garage, Joel turned back to the closed door, a silent vigil for the fragile peace within.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

As you deeply inhaled, the scent of soft cotton sheets enveloped you, and the plush mattress cradled your form. A gentle breeze wafted through the open window, causing the curtains to sway gracefully. Blinking your eyes open, your eyebrows knit in confusion as the unfamiliar room unfolded before you, a stark contrast to the one you had meticulously crafted as your own.

As you pushed yourself up, the blanket slipped off, revealing a scene that painted a portrait of the person who occupied this space. A guitar stood propped up next to a box of records, hinting at the melodies that might have filled the room. A clock, perched on the wall above a small bookshelf adorned with a multitude of books, ticked away the moments. The window, adorned with a closet nearby, allowed soft daylight to spill into the room, casting a warm glow on the carefully curated details that made this space unique.

Exiting the bedroom, you quietly padded towards the kitchen, drawn by the inviting aroma of breakfast and a faint hum in the air. As you entered, Joel came into view, focused on the morning task of preparing a meal. You said his name, but he tilted his head to the side, as if catching a subtle sound in the stillness. Eventually, he turned around, and a small smile graced his face, revealing the hint of a dimple.

"Oh, you're awake. Good mornin', darlin'. How'd ya sleep?" Joel greeted, his eyes warm and the kitchen bathed in the aroma of breakfast. The worn, well-loved kitchen table held evidence of countless meals, the scent of brewing coffee enveloping the space, and a charming clutter of ingredients spoke of a morning routine crafted by familiarity and care.

“I… I’m–”

“Before you start to apologize for shit that you can’t control, don’t,” Joel interjected, a wry smile on his lips.

Deciding it was too early for arguments, you settled for a small nod, and Joel mirrored it with an agreeing one, “Alright, good.”

You began, “Uh, then I should… uh, see myself out then um–”

Joel shook his head, “Not with an empty stomach, you’re not.”

“But I–”

“Let me take care of you, please?” Joel's request carried a certain weight, and you found it hard to resist. Politely nodding, you ventured, “Is there anything I could help with?”

Joel shook his head, “Just have a seat over there by the dining table.” You complied, the chair scraping against the floor before you settled, observing Joel expertly preparing a spread of plates.

The front door opened, and Ellie walked in with a bright smile upon spotting you. "Hey! You’re still here and Joel hasn’t scared you off yet?”

You began to reply, but Joel scolded Ellie, placing down plates and glasses on the table, "Ellie!"

With a sheepish smile, you told her, "Quite the opposite actually."

Ellie shot Joel a cheeky look as she stuffed her face with food, “Wow! Look at you, when did you become such a social butterfly?” Joel sighed, shaking his head, while you shared a chuckle with Ellie, finding yourself welcomed into the heartwarming banter of their unconventional family.

You three had a nice supper together in quiet companionship. Ellie finally got up from her chair and announced that she was going to hang out at Dina's apartment. Never one to pass up a chance, she gave Joel a playful glance and puckered her lips into a kissy face at him while you were busy with the dishwashing.

By the time Joel was done drying the dishes with a towel and setting them on the drying rack, you picked at the loose skin on the edges of your fingernails, nervously waiting for Joel to ask the question you knew was coming.

“Let’s go sit out at the porch and enjoy the good weather, watcha’ say darlin’?” Joel asks and you bring yourself to look at him and you just nod as you follow him outside. He opens the door for you and gestures to the seat that you take, Joel moves the table around and moves his chair closer to yours.

You inhale deeply, finding solace in the delicate dance of silence and the caress of a spring breeze that leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“Have ya talked to anybody?” Joel's voice breaks the quiet, and you turn your head to meet his gaze, a mixture of curiosity and kindness in his eyes.

“What?” you respond, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“Y’know, made some friends around town?” Joel elaborates gently.

“Are you asking if I have friends?” Your quizzical tone hangs in the air, and Joel huffs, “Well, you ain’t answerin’ the question, honey.”

A sigh escapes you as you weigh the words in your mind. Finally, you admit, “I like being alone.”

“Must be why you’re talkin’ to me so much,” Joel remarks with a smirk.

You meet his gaze, the warm sun highlighting the depths of his brown eyes as he looks at you. Shaking your head, you say, “That’s why I knew you were different. Because, for the first time ever, I wanted someone else’s company more than my own.” The vulnerability in your words hangs between you, suspended in the soft glow of the sun.

Joel's weathered hand envelops yours, a gesture that carries the weight of shared pain. "I’ve had 'em, the um, panic attacks," he admits, his voice a low murmur that echoes the haunting specter of those moments. "Feels like all the air in your lungs is gone, and you begin to feel like you’re drownin’.”

“I see her sometimes,” Joel continues distantly, his gaze lost in the depths of memory. You wait, the air thick with unspoken sorrow. “Sarah, my daughter. I lost her on outbreak day. She was only twelve.”

Your eyes well up, and you squeeze his hand in silent solidarity. "I'm sorry, Joel."

Joel shifts his gaze to his broken watch, a relic that marks the day and time when his world shattered when he cradled Sarah in his arms as she bled out.

“I got Ellie now, and she’s…” Joel trails off, the weight of his feelings for Ellie impossible to articulate fully. She's his everything, the reason to press on in a world that often feels desolate.

“I know,” you say, nodding in understanding.

“Talkin’ about it helps, y’know. Learned the hard way, almost lost her.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as the raw vulnerability in Joel's words resonates with your own pain. “I don’t want to just survive anymore,” you gasp, the ache in your chest palpable. “It hurts, Joel.”

“What happened out there, darlin’?” Joel asks, his voice breaking.

With a sob, you reply, “Nothing good. Nothin’ good, Joel.”

Then, the floodgates open, and you begin to tell an account laced with patches of short-lived joy and a frantic search for any opportunity at a better life. You spoke about the day of the breakout, the terror of seeing your parents die, and the passing of your siblings. You were taken prisoner by deranged and vicious raiders who took you to a basement filled with the deafening screams of violence.

You consider yourself lucky, spared the physical torment, yet the anticipation of it looms, a shadow of dread. "They should've just killed me then and there," you choke out, laying bare the scars that time can't erase.

A surge of anger courses through Joel's veins, an incandescent rage that echoes through his chest, resonating in the very marrow of his bones. The simmering heat in his head intensifies, a visceral response to the mere thought of anyone causing you harm. Every protective instinct in him flares up, urging him to mount a horse and embark on a ruthless pursuit, to track down those who dared lay a hand on you and unleash a torrent of violence upon them.

Yet, a rational part of Joel prevails. He recognizes the urgency of your need, the necessity for his presence here and now. Despite the molten anger that simmers beneath his skin, he restrains the impulse to act immediately. For your sake, he remains seated, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he clenches his teeth, locking away the fiery wrath that threatens to consume him. It's a fierce battle within, between the protective warrior ready for vengeance and the caring soul determined to offer solace. In this moment, he chooses the latter, for you.

The weight of your dreams presses upon you, vivid and haunting, every detail etched into your consciousness. "I've been remembering my dreams, more vivid than they've ever been, every detail and little thing. Every time I think about going back there to save the others I just… I can’t,” you admit, the guilt seeping through every fiber of your being. Joel kneels in front of you, a pillar of support, placing his hand on your knee.

“Let’s go inside, sweetheart,” Joel suggests, his voice a gentle anchor. You nod, allowing him to guide you back inside. Both of you settle on the couch, and Joel scoops you into his arms, a comforting embrace that shields you from the harshness of your own thoughts.

Sniffling, you pour out your heart, “I know I should have gone back for them, but I saw the opportunity, took it, and fought. I fought hard, and then I ran.”

Joel hums, a soothing melody that allows your tears to flow freely. “I thought… I was okay with the idea of dying, right there, in the snow, and then–”

“I found you,” Joel interjects, his voice a soft murmur.

You look up at him, eyes filled with uncertainty. “You found me?”

Joel's voice drops to a low register, his gaze steady on yours. “I found you during the patrol, freezin’ to death. Thought I didn’t make it in time.” The admission lingers in the air, a symbol of the frailty of beating the odds and the silent connection that kept you from falling apart.

You both stay quiet as you try to calm yourself down while Joel holds you, unable to form any response to the revelation that Joel saved you. You know you’re supposed to be grateful, but at the same time, you don’t feel that way. So you settle closer to him and Joel squeezes you a little tighter as if he knows what you are thinking, and there is no judgment, just pure empathy and understanding.

Eventually, you settle down and softly say, “I don’t know what to do,” Joel rubs a soothing hand up and down your back, “We’ll figure it out, darlin’.”

Then for the first time in years, that's when you could finally breathe.

 •───────•°•❀•°•───────•

As the seasons wove their tapestry of change, so did the fabric of your life, threading moments of lightness and warmth. Having shared the weight of your past with Joel, he became a steadfast presence, an anchor in the shifting tides of your existence. Ellie, too, became a companion in the shared journey of growth.

On a particular day, amidst the vibrant greenery of the greenhouse, you found yourself potting plants and tending to the garden alongside Ellie and another resident named Tris. The air was filled with the earthy scent of soil and the symphony of laughter as you engaged in the simple joy of gardening.

Joel, clad in his worn yet beloved flannel, entered the greenhouse, his eyes inadvertently catching the scene of camaraderie and playfulness. He watched, a subtle smile gracing his lips, as you and Ellie exchanged sweet banter, a dance of words that resonated with laughter.

Ellie couldn't resist a playful pun, and you responded with a burst of laughter, the sound harmonizing with the rustle of leaves and the hum of nature. The moment encapsulated the genuine connection, the shared language of laughter, that had blossomed between you and Ellie.

There had never been a label given to the unwritten relationship between Joel and you. It was a wordless understanding, manifested in the tender attention he paid you and the evenings you spent finding comfort in the round of his arms. There was a promise in the air as he held you tight, "I'll keep you safe, sweetheart." The words were genuine and reverberated through the unexplored areas of your connection, a song of love and safety that didn't require any further explanation.

 •───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The morning proceeded as usual, and the break of dawn illuminated Jackson's sanctuary with a hopeful glow. There was a small party of new arrivals, an expected but unusual sight, and the customary welcoming committee was called upon to assist them in becoming adjusted to the way of life in the community.

You and a few others started the annual task of welcoming the newcomers into the communal room that serves several purposes. A mixture of wonder and expectation pervaded the air as the newcomers experienced Jackson's regularity and warmth—a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the post-apocalyptic world.

You did your duty without thinking as the new faces moved into the shared dining room, where a shared meal was waiting. But at the doorway, something stopped you cold, a pause that went against the normal flow of the greeting.

And then, you saw him.

Recognition struck like a bolt, the back of his head triggering a flood of memories—the cadence of his voice, the grimy shirt clinging to his frame, the dirt-encrusted hands that bore the stains of a past you had fought hard to escape. Time seemed to fracture as you stood there, immobilized, your mouth agape and dry, eyes widened in sheer terror.

You could feel the weight in the pit of your stomach, a concrete representation of the eerie memories of abuse and torment. This could not be real. He was not allowed to be here, breaking into the safe sanctuary you had taken refuge in. Previously perceived as a haven of security, the shared area now seemed to evoke images of suppressed anxieties and bad dreams.

His eyes lock onto yours, and a malevolent grin creeps across his face, revealing a set of teeth that seem to glisten with wicked intent. The sight sends shivers down your spine, and an overwhelming sense of nausea threatens to consume you. In that moment, Maria's reassuring grip on your shoulder serves as a lifeline amidst the storm of dread that surges within you.

Her voice cuts through the dissonance in your mind, “You okay? You look unwell,”, her concern accentuated by the chaos unfolding around you. Yet, it's her inquiry that acts as the catalyst for your unraveling. A surge of panic propels you out of the scene, your movements fueled by a desperate need to escape the looming threat.

The world blurs around you as you sprint through the town, a disorienting juxtaposition of familiar faces and judgmental gazes. The echoes of a haunting déjà vu accompany your frantic run, amplifying the weight of your terror. Tears stream down your face, and your breaths come in ragged gasps as your throat constricts, a relentless grip tightening around your airways.

Staggering, you struggle to maintain composure, but the relentless onslaught of fear takes its toll. The corners of your vision blur, and in a secluded moment, away from the prying eyes of the community, your body rebels. The gut-wrenching sensation overwhelms you, and you bend over, retching as the trauma resurfaces in both memory and physical reaction. The ground beneath you bears witness to the aftermath of a confrontation with the haunting specter of your past.

As you slide down the cold, unforgiving wall, a shiver courses through your body, amplifying the stark reality of the present moment. The cool surface offers little solace as you fold into yourself, desperately clutching your knees as if they could shield you from the impending storm.

The air around you thickens with a stifling heaviness, a cruel reminder of the past that refuses to release its grip. Curling into a defensive ball, you hug yourself tight, as though this simple act could ward off the encroaching darkness threatening to consume you.

With your head buried in your arms, the world outside the fortress of your limbs becomes a distant, distorted canvas. The minutes unravel, each tick of the clock echoing the pulsating rush of blood in your ears. The simplicity of the moment clashes with the complexity of the emotions swirling within.

Seventeen again, caught in the clutches of an awful, horrible place that has become an indelible scar etched into the tapestry of your existence. The pain is not merely a memory but a living, breathing entity, clawing its way back into your present, rendering the passage of time meaningless.

The walls around you seem to close in, their echoes carrying the weight of your history. It's a stark reminder that the past, no matter how desperately you've tried to escape it, remains an unwelcome companion, haunting the recesses of your soul.

You feel the air thicken as he draws near, his presence casting an ominous shadow that seems to devour the feeble rays of sunlight. A cold shiver races down your spine, a chilling prelude to the encroaching darkness. His footsteps echo like ominous drumbeats, each one resonating with an unsettling promise.

"You thought you could escape, huh?" The words slither from his lips like venom, his voice a malevolent symphony that pierces through the ambient sounds of the surroundings. His gaze, filled with a malevolent gleam, locks onto yours, trapping you in a macabre dance.

Despite your mind screaming at your limbs to flee, a paralyzing fear roots you to the spot. The weight of your past sins, haunting and relentless, manifests in the figure before you. His form, etched with the scars of your shared history, now looms with a menacing intent.

"Did you really think you could hide here? With these people?" His tone drips with disdain as he gestures to the community around you. The tendrils of his threat extend beyond mere words, reaching into the very fabric of your newfound sanctuary.

Your breath catches as his words morph into a menacing promise. "I can take it all away, you know. Everything you've found here." His gaze shifts to the people you've come to love, their laughter and camaraderie now tainted by the looming specter of his return.

Nathan. A name, almost lost to the recesses of memory, surfaces in your mind – a cruel reminder of the scars he etched upon your soul. In this ominous confrontation, the echoes of your past reverberate with the sinister intention of reclaiming what he believes belongs to him.

Nathan's grip tightened around your arm, and you let out a scream, thrashing wildly to break free. As your nails clawed at his face, Nathan spat out a curse, "You fuckin’ bitch, I’ll kill you!"

In desperation, you tried to stand, but he grabbed your ankle, dragging you mercilessly across the floor. Your knee aimed at his face was thwarted, and his hands closed around your throat. The air in your lungs dwindled, and you kicked and screamed in a futile attempt to escape.

Feeling the switchblade in your pocket, you willed yourself to grab it. Flipping it open, you cried out as you stabbed him in the neck. Joel stormed towards you, anger etched across his face, but before he could intervene, you pulled out the switchblade, attacking Nathan with a frenzy of stabs.

"Stay the hell away from me!" you cried, each word punctuated by a vicious thrust of the blade. Tears streamed down your face as you unleashed your rage on the man who haunted your nightmares.

Joel, realizing the danger, moved swiftly. He pulled you away from the blood-soaked scene, shushing you and grabbing your wrist. The switchblade fell from your grip, staining the grass, and Joel held you close, shielding you from the aftermath of the violent confrontation.

Amidst the chaos, Joel's voice cut through, reassuring and protective. "Easy, sweetheart, easy. You're safe now." The echoes of your cries mingled with the distant sounds of Maria, Tommy, and others dealing with Nathan.

Maria's gaze shifted towards you, concern etched across her features. She turned to Joel and gave a decisive order, "Go and make sure she’s okay." Joel's response was a firm nod, an acknowledgment of his responsibility.

There was a hint of irritation in Joel's eyes as he escorted you home with an arm around your waist. It was an aging-related displeasure with himself for not being fast enough. But he was driven by desire to take care of making sure you were safe, and he brought you home with a strong sense of protectiveness. The atmosphere was tight, with echoes of Maria's instruction that spoke of the need to protect you from the horror that had recently occurred.

 •───────•°•❀•°•───────•

In the quiet confines of the bathroom, Joel tenderly cleans the cuts and blood on your skin. The sterile scent of antiseptic hangs in the air as he carefully tends to your wounds. His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh memories that still lingered.

Joel glances at you while he works, capturing your attention. Through the difficulties you've undergone together, you've built a mutual understanding and a silent bond. The air changes, as trust and frailty meld together at that one instant.

Joel stops and meets your eyes for a brief period. There is a tangible tension between you that none of you can deny. The air seems heated. He places the first aid kit aside and reaches for your face with his hands.

Without a word, Joel leans in, closing the gap between you. The touch of his lips against yours is a gentle reassurance, a promise that you're not alone. In that tender kiss, there's a quiet acknowledgment of the strength you've found in each other.

As the kiss lingers, the weight of the past starts to lift. It's a moment of solace, a testament to resilience and the possibility of healing. Joel pulls away slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

And in the quiet bathroom, amid the wounds of the past, you find a newfound feeling of hope, grounded in the connection established through endurance and the compassion of Joel's care. Joel smiles softly and says, "You deserve to be happy, darlin'. Let me take care of you."

As Joel continues to care for your wounds, a sense of calm settles within the small confines of the bathroom. The sting of antiseptic is a tangible reminder of the present, but you find solace in the fact that Joel is here, offering comfort and care.

He finishes cleaning the last cut, his hands lingering for a moment before he retreats. There's an unspoken understanding between you, a silent agreement that this moment marks a turning point. The ghosts of the past may linger, but the present holds a promise of healing.

Joel's gruff voice breaks the quiet, "You're a tough one, you know that?" A hint of a smile plays on his lips, a rare sight that warms your heart. You manage a small smile in return, grateful for the unexpected bond that has grown between you.

Leaning back against the bathroom counter, Joel lets out a sigh. "You've been through hell, and here you are, facing it head-on. I've seen folks crumble under less. You're stronger than you think."

The atmosphere shifts as Joel's gaze meets yours again. There's a question lingering in the air, one that goes beyond words. You realize that this moment is a crossroads, a chance to choose your path forward.

"You're not alone in this," Joel reassures, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that transcends the scars of the past. "Whatever you need, I'm here."

In that moment, you feel a surge of courage, a newfound strength that emanates from within. The pain of the past begins to lose its grip as you accept Joel's support. The familiarity of the bathroom transforms into a sanctuary, a symbol of resilience and the possibility of rebuilding.

As you rise from the seat, Joel watches you with a quiet intensity. You get closer as the uncovered pull between you becomes stronger. This is a turning point in your life when you realize that you are now in control of the two worlds you have battled to survive and are determined to rebuild.

Joel's weathered hands find yours, a comforting embrace that symbolizes the connection you've forged. The tension that once lingered now gives way to a shared understanding, a silent agreement to face the future together.

In the hushed bathroom, among the fragments of the past, you lean in, closing the distance between you and Joel. The kiss that follows is a testament to resilience, an affirmation of the strength found in vulnerability. It forms a bridge between the hope of the next day and the scars of yesterday as it becomes deeper. 

Joel pulls away, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. Instead, he finds a glimmer of determination, a spark that signals a new beginning. With a whispered promise, he says, "We'll face whatever comes our way, together."

With Joel right there beside you, you walk into that tiny, quiet room, ready to tackle whatever the world throws your way. Strangely enough, the weight of the world feels lighter with him around. No complaints from you—just a sense of readiness for whatever comes next.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

End Notes:

tbh, I blacked out while writing this--- so UH if there are any inconsistencies let me know! :>

[deathbxnny]

Alright, I've finally found the time to write the second part to "No Happy Endings" for my dear Flower Anon! This one is very dark, so please read the content tags, before reading the one-shot!!!

(Part one)

Content: CW!VAGUE SMALL MENTIONS OF MURDER, DECAPITATION, Potential ooc Arlecchino?, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, small mention of depression/suicidal ideation, blood, gaslighting

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

《And he imagined you with him. (Lyney x Reader)》

"Do you understand the point of this mission, Lyney?"

It was a simple question.

One, that on any other day, could've easily been answered with a single word. But ever since you've disappeared over two weeks ago, Lyney found himself at a loss for an answer. He shifted on his feet, tongue wetting his chapped lips, before he hummed weakly and nodded. None of his usual bravado or confidence in sight.

"Ofcourse, Father."

He winced ever so slightly at the absolute pathetic stutter in his tone. Why did he even bother replying at all? There was no point in hiding his true feelings, not that he could have. They were engraved in his sleep deprived and pale face.

But Arlecchino decided to play along with his lies. Something he'd come to regret until he took his last breath.

"I knew you did, ofcourse... but just in case you dared to forget one day, let me give you a reminder you'll forever remember."

Lyney raised his head for the first time since he and his siblings were asked to meet the Harbinger in this dim, dark room. He felt a slight shiver run up his spine at the cold and unimpressed gaze that met his unsure one, his body stiff and painfully tense. His siblings on each side of him didn't move a singular muscle, perhaps out of fear of getting her attention next. And for once, he deeply wished to be out of the spotlight.

Arlecchino slowly raised her hand, before placing it on top of a box. Had it always been there? He didn't remember, the room suddenly feeling so suffocating and warm. Sweat rolled down his forehead, as he chose to ignore the worried glances that Freminet and Lynette gave him.

He knew that it was painfully obvious that something was wrong with him, and yet, he still wanted to keep up the facade desperately. It was a matter of survival at this point. And it made him wonder in that moment what had brought him to this point again.

It was still you, ofcourse. It was always you. Ever since that night, he had ro regretfully reject you.

In the agony that filled him over the last few weeks without you, he had begun becoming very sloppy and clumsy with everything he did. He was completely out of it, practically spiraling head first into a deep hole he didn't want to crawl out of anymore. He just wished to know where you were.

He hadn't slept properly in forever. He couldn't keep food down. He saw you in every mirror, in every reflection. He heard your laughs in the sound of birds chirping in early mornings, heard your stories in his wild, hazy dreams of your ever fading figure.

Every was just you. But you were nowhere to be found.

He had tried finding you after that night, he really did. And yet, no one knew of your whereabouts. You had disappeared overnight, your home empty and vacant, no trace of you, despite everything still being in place. It's like you never even went home after the ball to begin with.

Deep down, especially now, he knew what had happened to you. He could see it replaying in his Father's eyes, perhaps even see the blood dripping off her sharp talons that seemed to dig into the lid of the box in silent anger that not even she could conceal. But he still chose to dream.

He chose to believe that you had simply left the country, like the rumors told him you did. He imagined you laying in the bright fields of Mondstadt, the wind blowing through your clothes and hair, as you sung beautiful memories. He imagined you traversing through the vast and empty Sahara of Sumeru, eyes squinting against the scorching sun. He imagined you drinking tea in Liyue harbor, your eyes gazing out longingly into the distance as the sun set over the ocean. He imagined you visiting a Shrine in Inazuma, the Sakura trees swaying in the wind as you rested against them.

And finally, he imagined you in Snezhnaya with him, your hands intertwined, a golden band on each of your fingers. He imagined you doing all of those things with him, just like you always told him you wanted to. He loved it when he heard you speak of your future with him always in mind. It gave him the feeling of having a choice for once.

Even if it was all crushed under the Knaves heel now.

"Father, I-" "-Open the box, Lyney." Arlecchino slid it towards him, uncaring now if the blood that poured through the thin cardboard drenched the wood below. Said young man felt Freminet step behind him ever so slightly, Lynette practically not breathing anymore once she realised what was going on. The terror and disbelief that filled the air was palpable.

"Father, you didn't..." Lynette was at a loss for words, not knowing what exactly she was accusing the woman of. Or perhaps she didn't want to believe it. Freminet gripped onto Lyney's vest, his hand shaking as he gulped weakly, when Arlecchino sighed and shook her head in utter disappointment from where she sat.

"I can't believe that such a simple distraction made you all stray so far from what you are really here for. Especially you, Lyney. Didn't you want to take my place one day?" No. No, he didn't. Not anymore. He wanted to die more than anything. Melt into a puddle at her feet and hopefully merge with the blood that dripped off the table onto the floor. "Prove to me that you meant it. Prove to me that you understood our mission. Because this-" She tapped a sharp claw against the lid, her head resting against her palm as though she was bored. As though she wasn't completely destroying whatever was left of his heart and soul. "-should've never made me have to do this. It's your fault, and you have to fix this now."

He hated the way she spoke to him. He felt like a child being scolded. He knew she was trying to twist his mind and reattach the strings you had cut with your love for him. And yet, he realised that it didn't even matter anymore. The quicker he got done with all of this, the quicker he could see you again. He despised how that actually filled him with slight relief. He had truly completely and utterly given up on everything. And Lynette was the first to notice, as she shook her head and whispered for him to not do it. To not do this to them, to himself.

But Lyney just pried himself free from their grasp, stepping forward, a calm smile finding his face. "Ofcourse, you're right, Father. As always." "Lyney, no, please-" "-We've angered Father enough already." The young man uttered nearly sternly before his hand took Arlecchino's place, his thumb pressing against the underside of the box's lid. And then he paused. His hand was trembling, giving him away. But he couldn't let his last show end like this. His smile stretched wide and painfully when he flipped it open at last, his body taking in a deep, shaky breath.

He had found you at last. And it broke all his dreams with it.

Freminet gagged and turned away, a hand clasping over his mouth. Lynette blinked rapidly, nearly stumbling into a seat behind her, practically close to passing out. And Lyney? Oh, how he crumbled. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take the sight of your head resting in this small box, the disrespect making him sick with anger and disbelief. His hands slapped against the table, as he leaned over it, shoulders trembling when he finally began crying pathetically. It hurt. Everything hurt.

And the malice and spite became even clearer when he noticed the rainbow rose that was placed behind your ear. Just the way he used to do it.

He burned with fury, the flames reaching high and wide, spreading into every part of his body, until he met his Father's unimpressed gaze at last through his blurry sight. He hated her. He hated everything. Why did she do this to him? Why couldn't she just have threatened you to leave the country? Why? He had so much to say, so much to scream at her, but all that came out of him were gasps for air and uncontrollable sobs.

Arlecchino hummed in approval at the broken state of all of her dear children, before she stood up, having achieved her disciplinary goals for the night. She didn't spare them a glance anymore, as she passed by them, knowing she had gotten the point across loud and clear. Lyney slid to his knees, unable to bear any of it anymore.

"I hope, my reminder will be enough to return you all to the right path. Fountaine will thank you for your pain." She said, closing the door behind her on her way out of the room, a satisfied smile on her lips at the sound of well-deserved agony.

It was all for the greater good in the end, after all.

Okay! This one was admittedly a bit difficult to write, but I hope you liked it anyway, Flower Anon! I'm always super thankful for your great request!!!<33