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Significant

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end)

A/N: Happy Mandalorian Eve!! This is based on a short drabble I wrote, which you can find here! It's not necessary to read it first, though of course I recommend it! The reader and Din have been traveling together for a long time, and after removing his armor in front of the reader for the first time began calling them riduur.

“Riduur.” 

It may as well be your name, the way you turn at the sound of that word. 

“Din,” you return, adjusting the child’s little sleeve which had fallen down past his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side. 

You smile and turn back to Grogu. “Dad’s impatient today, isn’t he?” The child coos up at you, lifting tiny arms, ready to be picked up. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m not impatient,” Din grumbles lowly.

You raise a brow at that and lift Grogu into your arms. “You’re always impatient, Mando.” His head jerks to the side at your assessment.

You have to bite back a laugh. In truth, he is incredibly patient. Most of the time, and especially when it came to you and Grogu. The only time you’ve seen him truly lose his temper was with the Jawas, and really, that couldn’t be helped. 

The child reaches for Din when you turn back to him, and the Mandalorian immediately holds out his arms to take him from you. You deposit the little green baby there before grabbing your shawl. “Yes, we’re ready,” you finally answer. 

The baby gets tucked into the pouch at Din’s hip, before he descends the ship’s ramp out into the desert air that awaits you. 

You roll your eyes gently. 

Not impatient, but not entirely patient either. 

You follow, wrapping the light material around your shoulders. 

It’s subtle, but he does wait for you, his pace slower than if he were alone. His right elbow ticks out a fraction, and you smile before cupping your hand there. He would never ask you to take his arm, still the offer is usually there if he can accommodate it. 

He relaxes a little when you fit your hand against his bicep. “Supplies only,” he reminds you, ever practical. 

“Supplies only,” you agree. “Unless I see something for Grogu.” 

“The child is becoming spoiled,” he complains lightly. “We won’t have enough room in the ship soon.” 

You shrug and tighten your grip on his arm. You like the way he says we. So, you return with, “That’s just because our child deserves the best.” 

Din’s spine straightens a fraction and his shoulders tilt back. 

He’s somehow both stoic and incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. You can tell, just by the slope of his shoulders or the exact angle of the helmet or the precise way he stands or walks, exactly what and how he’s feeling. 

Or, maybe you’ve just spent too much time around him. 

Maybe, you just know him too well. 

And right now, he’s swollen with pride. Though you don’t know if it's because you’ve complimented the way he takes care of the child or if it were something else. Something in the way you said our.  

It’s not long before you reach the market, and Din sighs as soon as it comes into view. It’s much larger than the ones you normally frequent, a riot of color and sound that you both know you won’t be able to resist. The town seems to be in the midst of some kind of festival. 

The smell of fried food greets you before you’ve even breached the perimeter of the town, and your mouth waters. Something better than rations awaited you there. 

Din is single minded though, and you know he’ll immediately make for the most boring of the stalls and shops. 

Supplies only, after all, is what you’d come for. 

“Mando,” you remove your hand from his arm and he immediately halts at the loss of your touch and turns to you. “I’m going to go look around.” 

He stares at you, helmet tilting down. He doesn’t like telling you no, and knows it wouldn’t matter if he did anyways. But, he worries and so it takes a moment for him to reply. “Don’t go far,” he advises. “Do you have a comlink?”

“Yes.” 

“A weapon?” 

You pretend to search your person, “Hm, what’s that again?” 

“Riduur,” he reprimands your teasing. 

That word makes the inside of your skin light up pleasantly. Riduur. If only you knew what it meant. 

You’ve started to assume it means something similar to cyare or cyar'ika. But he’d had no problem telling you what those words meant. Darling and sweetheart and beloved. He’d had no problem telling you he was calling you beloved. 

But he no longer calls you cyare or cyar'ika. Since the first time he’d called you riduur, the day he removed his armor in front of you for the first time, he’d solely begun calling you riduur. 

Even your name is becoming a rarity from his lips. 

“Udesii! Yes,” you cross your arms. “You know I took care of myself for a very long time without you and nothing ever happened. I’ll be okay.” 

Din doesn’t answer, just sighs and gives a curt nod and marches off towards a shop selling medical supplies. 

The dramatics of it all makes you giggle. You like teasing him, especially because he thinks he hides how flustered you make him well. 

Although you enjoy traveling with the Mandalorian, alone time has become a complete rarity. You were always with Din, or watching your little green menace.

You eat your way through a couple of different stalls selling food, bundling up second and third servings to keep for Din and Grogu. 

Din wouldn’t think to get anything beyond rations. Both you and the child like a little more variety, where Din treats the act of eating like a maintenance routine. 

You drift past stalls hawking trinkets and jewelry, fending off the sellers as you crunch something sweet and sour you’d picked up at the last food stall, not entirely sure what it is.  

Textiles are next, bolts of cloth you run your fingers over but mourn not being able to afford. Still, it's nice to browse, nice to feel normal. The Mandalorian isn’t hunting someone for once, and you aren’t trapped in the interior of the ship, stale recycled dry air burning your nostrils. 

A little supply stop has become a little welcome relief. It’s giving you the chance to stretch your legs, to explore. 

Still, your mind drifts back to Din, the way he calls you something he would not name to you.

You’ve searched before, in other markets, on other worlds, for the answer to your question. What does that word mean and why won’t Din tell you? 

You’d tried to convince him once or twice, with gentle words whispered in his ear, when the helmet was off and your hands were pressed against his skin, the contours of his face still a mystery to you. 

Once, you’d felt the skin of his cheeks go hot beneath your hands when you told him he used his tongue so prettily, couldn’t he use it to tell you what riduur meant? 

He’d mumbled something else in Mando’a but had not explained himself. 

You can understand most of that he says now, but because he’s the only other speaker, you have to rely on him to tell you what new words and phrases mean.

Because the Mandalorians are such an insular people, you never come across any other speakers you could ask. There are no dictionaries to Basic that you could download and peruse. 

It’s frustrating, especially since the word seems to be laden with something heavy. Din says it with reverence, with a softness that doesn't cut through the rest of his words. His voice is softer when he speaks Mando’a anyways, but that word is held with a reverence on his tongue, like it’s precious. 

The only other time you had heard him use that tone was when he once called Grogu ad’ika, which meant child. 

You’ve almost given up on knowing, resigned to that fact that you may never know and he may never tell you.

Whatever it means, you’re sure it's important. You just don’t know why.

The market is loud, boisterous and colorful. Music floats through the air, shouts and laughter. 

It’s nice, it makes you smile and you wish you’d taken the child with you because you’re sure he’d have much more fun with you than with Din picking out rolls of bandage and rations and pulse rifle cartridges if he can find someone that has some. 

You stop suddenly in your tracks when you hear a conversation in a language you immediately recognize, the familiar syllables cutting through the afternoon chatter. 

You spin and find two men in robes speaking gently to each other in Mando’a. Before you can stop yourself, your feet have already carried you to their table where they sit sipping cups of caf. 

“Su cuy'gar,” you greet. They both look surprised, glancing at each other and then back at you. “Sorry to bother you. You speak Mando’a?” 

One smiles, “Yes. Of the few outsiders that do, I think.” 

“Were you foundlings?” It’s the only way, you think, that they could have learned it. 

“Once,” the older of the two says. “This one learned it at a university.” 

You can’t help the curiosity that burns through you, “At a university? Really?” 

“Only the very barest basics. From a woman being courted by a Mandalorian,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “That was a long time ago. Really I learned from him.” He gestures between himself and the other man. 

You shake yourself, “I’ve just never met another aruetii that does.” Let alone two of them, you think dizzily. Two outsiders who spoke Mando’a. 

“And how did you learn?” 

“My…” you trail off. 

Your what? You aren’t sure what exactly Din is to you, or what you are to him. You never have been. He treats you like you’re more precious than beskar, yet everything between you remains undefined. 

“My traveling companion. He’s a Mandalorian.” You swallow, “I wonder if you could tell me if you know what a certain word means? It’s one I’ve been curious about.” You don’t want to tell them that you’re seeking it out because it's something he calls you. That feels too private, too close to the chest. “He said it once and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” 

“It would wound my pride. He’s already taught me so much. He overestimates my fluency.” 

They laugh and the man who was once a foundling says, “Yes, ask us then.” 

“Riduur,” you say, carefully pronouncing it so they don’t mistake it for another word. “Riduur,” you repeat with more confidence. 

The men glance at each other, brows raised. “Well, it has several meanings,” the more grizzled of the two says, “But I suppose it's all the same in the end. Spouse would be the most overarching translation. Partner, wife, and husband all work too.” 

For a moment, you can’t breathe, you’re sure your heart has come to a leaping halt in your chest. “Truly? Riduur?” You say it again, just to make sure. They laugh and nod and you decide to have your meltdown away from their table. “Well, thank you for clearing that up. Sorry again to bother you.” 

You turn away from them, a roaring in your ears. Your heart stutters in your chest. Riduur. He’s been calling you his partner, his spouse, for months? That word so softly spoken to you - to tease you, to call for you, whispered to you in the dark, said over and over, more than your own name. It meant partner, spouse, wife, husband?

Something inside you lights up with pride. The shape of it is warm, firm in the clasp of your lungs. Riduur. It’s a living, breathing kind of word, one that takes up space inside you. One you’re proud to bear the weight of, the title of. 

Spouse, you think, doesn’t carry the same gravitas as riduur. There’s something heavier and deeper in the word that a translation couldn’t really carry over into Basic. 

You start back down the road, smiling to yourself, but only make it several paces when Din steps up beside you silently from between two stalls. “Dank farrik,” you gasp, stumbling back. “Where did you come from? You scared me.” 

He doesn’t answer you, doesn’t even tilt his head towards you. You may as well have not spoken at all. 

“Mando?” 

Still, he doesn’t answer you. 

You raise a brow but don’t say anything else as he herds you gently out of the market, desert dust swirling around your calves. Eventually, when you reach the edge of the town, he asks, “Did you find everything you need?” His voice is flat, rough. 

“Yes, I got some food for you and Grogu to try. A little feast for you tonight, since it won’t hold.”

He merely grunts and you frown. “Is something wrong?” You glance over your shoulder. “Did something happen? Are we being followed?”

You glance around his legs at the baby, still securely in the brown canvas bag, who’s peering up at both of you with anxious eyes, big ears drooping. 

“No.” He answers curtly. 

The walk back to the ship is silent, and tense, and you aren’t sure why. 

It’s only when you’re in the safety of the mouth of the ship’s ramp, with the baby in your arms, that your irritation spills over. “Are you upset with me? I didn’t wander. I stayed close and had a weapon and -,” 

Din’s hands go to his hips, helm tilting at an angle as he regards you. His voice is agitated when he finally speaks. You expect him to tell you that you wandered too far, that he commed you and you hadn’t picked it up, that you’d unknowingly wandered into danger. And you expect to have to tell him once again that it's all fine, that you are fine, that you’d traveled without him for years and things always turned out alright. 

Instead, he says, “You should not call yourself an aruetii. That is not what you are.” 

For a moment, it doesn’t register with you what he’s talking about, that he’d clearly overheard your conversation with the Mando’a speakers, likely eavesdropped on it. 

All you are, for a few seconds, is confused. “But…I am an aruetii. I am not a Mandalorian.”

Din’s shoulders go stiff at your words. “That does not make you an outsider. You…you are far from an outsider,” he growls and suddenly spins away from you, his footfalls heavy and loud when he stomps across the hull.

He climbs the ladder to the cockpit and disappears, leaving both you and the baby alone, still standing on the ramp up to the ship. “He’s angry with me,” you say in disbelief, glancing down at the child in your arms, not really understanding why. “We’ll let him cool off,” you decide, bouncing the child against your waist. “Hungry?” 

The baby coos and you smile, worry biting into you as you settle with him in the mouth of the ship. The sun is setting on the sand, the air warm, casting red shadows over the world. There’s nothing around you but sand in any direction you glance, aside from the town from which you’d come on the horizon. 

In the distance, fireworks from the town explode in the sky. You point them out to Grogu, gently feeding him bites of food that you’d gotten at the market. He makes a sound that you suppose is a giggle, big eyes focused on the colors dissipating in the sky. He holds a tiny hand up, like he’d like it to fly to him. 

You curl a hand over his. “None of that,” you say with a laugh. “Those are meant for the stars, not you.” 

He goes back to eating, already distracted. 

A weight settles over your chest.

If Din heard you call yourself aruetii then he knows that you now know what riduur means. 

Maybe that was the true source of his irritation, that you’d gone behind his back to figure out what it meant when he clearly hadn’t wanted you to know.

You rub the tip of Grogu’s ear between your fingers and sigh. 

Any warm feelings you’d had are gone. 

Riduur. 

He’s been calling you that for months. But he hadn’t wanted you to know that he was calling you his partner. For some reason it stings. 

The Mandalorian is not cruel, not the type to play with another’s feelings. But, nonetheless, it feels like he might have been. Teasing you in a way you couldn’t begin to guess at. Or, like he could pretend without actually attaching himself to you, and you’d be none the wiser. 

You shake those thoughts away, listening to the music echoing over the sands. 

When Grogu falls asleep and the sun is just disappearing behind the horizon, you secure the ramp of the ship and carry the baby up into the cockpit. 

Din sits silently in the pilot’s chair, and doesn’t look at you as you tuck the child into the floating pod. 

You fidget with his blanket, not sure what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” he breaks the silence first. “Ni ceta.” 

“Din,” you perch next to him in the co-pilot’s seat. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone poking around where I don’t belong. I’m sorry.” 

His head tilts toward you, the visor impenetrable. You swallow when he doesn’t answer, an inexplicable lump forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t belong?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked them what riduur meant. You didn’t want me to know.” 

Din stands and holds out a hand to you. You take it carefully and let him pull you to your feet. “That is not why I-,” he stops. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know what?” 

“I should have been…honest about the name I’ve given you.” He tilts his head and releases your hands. “I’m upset because-,” the Mandalorian pauses and seems to consider his next words for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and simply repeats, “You’re not an aruetii. By definition you can’t be.”

You stare at him for a long moment, before shaking your head. “I don’t understand.” 

He huffs, helm ticking to the side again. “Would you call Grogu an outsider?” 

“Of course not,” you answer, horrified. “No.” 

“And why is that? He’s not a Mandalorian either.” 

You don’t have to think about it, shaking your head before he’s even finished speaking. “He’s your child.” 

Din steps forward, close to you, but doesn’t say anything. “Our child,” he corrects eventually. “I am upset because you don’t seem to know you are a part of our clan. Even after knowing what I’ve been calling you. Riduur, ner riduur, for months. You still don’t know.”

Oh. Oh. 

“Osi'kyr,” you murmur softly. “How could I know that, Din?” 

He stands silent and still before you, so still you aren’t sure he’s breathing. “I thought it was clear,” he says stiffly. “I thought it was clear I was courting you.”

Something pleasantly warm settles in among your heart and lungs. “Maybe you should explain your customs to me more thoroughly,” you joke lightly. 

He doesn’t laugh, shoulders tense, hands curled in anxious fists. 

“So why not tell me what the word means?” It seems a bit past courting to you, to call someone riduur. It seems to you he’s already chosen you. 

He shifts from foot to foot, the movement somehow laden with vulnerability and worry. “If you did not…want the same - I’m not sure I could bear that.” 

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say to that. “So, what,” you start, “you expected me to one day just realize you considered me your-,”

“I would have told you,” he interrupts quickly. “One day.” 

“Told me-,” 

“What riduur means,” he corrects. “And asked if you’d like to be that.” Din takes your hands again, “Just know that you are part of this clan, whatever your answer is.” His voice is so sincere, it breaks your heart a little. “Whether you want to be attached to me or not, you have a place in this clan. You are not an aruetii.”

You tilt your head at the same time he does, the nonverbal cues you both habit in reflecting between you. “I’m just a bit confused. Was that your idea of a proposal?” You smile so he knows you’re teasing him. 

Din gives a long suffering sigh. “Mandalorians do not propose.” 

“Oh. So what do you do then?” You lift a brow, sliding your hands to his wrists so you can work on tugging one glove off at a time. 

“We make an agreement,” he says, not trying to stop you. His voice is hoarse. “We make vows.”

You don’t look up, tucking the gloves in your belt before tracing your fingers along the veins in his wrists, the lines of his palms. “Oh. And did you make vows to me that I wasn’t aware of?” 

You’re still joking, but Din takes your words to heart. He shakes one hand loose from yours and presses it beneath your jaw, tipping your head gently back. “I did. I make vows to you everyday.” 

All the air seems to get sucked out of the ship. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out as you struggle to find words. He chuckles, low and breathy beneath the helmet. You imagine he must be smiling. “Now you see how you make me feel. Like I can’t breathe.”

You finally manage to take a breath, lifting your chin away from his fingers, threads of embarrassment beating under your skin at his teasing. “You could have told me, you know.” 

“It was too large a risk. I wouldn’t risk you.”

Maybe you should hesitate in your next words. 

But you don’t. 

You’ve never been surer in something. 

“Din,” you step close to him. “I would take those vows.” 

“They…they are heavy vows. Not meant to be taken lightly. They’re bonding vows.”

He thinks you don’t get it, that you still don’t understand. “I understand what kind of vows they are. What are the vows?” You step even closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. 

He smells like sun, like spices from the market and oil on beskar. It makes you dizzy, the usual scent of him is much cooler. Evergreen and pine. 

The cockpit is dark, the very last dregs of light on the horizon gone. The contours of the helm are shadowed, the flicker of lights from the control panels reflecting in blinking lights over the visor. 

There is no hesitation in his voice when he finally speaks. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” 

You mouth the words, doing your best to translate them. 

But he’s spoken too quickly, and you only understand part of it. He waits for you to ask for him to translate, giving you a moment to attempt it instead of immediately telling you. 

“I only understand part…We are one together and-,”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” he says easily. “We are - we are all of those things already. I have kept the promise I made.” 

Your throat is dry, and you can’t think about how that’s true. “We’re raising warriors?” You attempt a joke. 

“Would you not call the child a warrior?”

“I would,” you agree. “I would also still take those vows, now knowing their meaning.”

There’s a long pause in which you can feel the Mandalorian’s stare. His gaze is intense, assessing, hot against your skin. You patiently look back, waiting. “You don’t have to.”

“You think I don’t want to.” 

He huffs, “I…don’t want you to believe you have to make vows to me. You are a part of our clan no matter what.” 

“Would you still call me riduur?”

“If you allowed it,” he takes a breath. “Yes.” 

The lip of the helm drifts up and you can sense he’s no longer looking at you, embarrassed. “Din.” His head snaps back down. “I know I am not an outsider.” You wait for him to digest those words. “I know this is my clan now. I still would like to make these vows to you.” 

He reaches up and presses his palms to either side of your jaw, the crown of the helmet pressing softly against your forehead for just a moment when he dips his head. “If you’re sure, repeat after me. We’ll say them together.” 

“Elek,” you agree. 

“Mhi solus tome,” he starts, reverence and disbelief lodged in his voice. 

In the distance, more fireworks explode in the sky. The colors reflect in the glass of the ship’s front window, sparking over the reflective helmet. “Mhi solus tome,” you say slowly, careful to pronounce each word exactly right. 

You’d never imagined yourself as someone who would get married, and certainly not like this. 

But that was before you knew Din. And all this feels to you is right. It’s both sudden and not. 

This was meant to happen. All your years with the Mandalorian lead towards this. 

You repeat the rest of the vows after him, slow and deliberate. 

When the final syllable rolls off your tongue, a muted kind of joy overcomes you. You’ve been a part of it for a long time, but you feel it now, the belonging to a clan and people. 

Din releases you and leans back. His chest rises and falls quickly. 

You close your eyes and reach for the edge of his helmet. 

You want to kiss him at the very least. 

But when your fingers skim over the release, he captures your wrists in one hand. You let go and Din reaches up with his opposite hand to take it off himself. 

You expect him to kiss you right away, but he doesn’t. You can only feel the lingering touch of his gaze. 

“Open your eyes.” 

“What? No-,” you begin to protest. 

“Yes. You can now, riduur.” The word rumbles out of him proudly, heavy in his mouth. 

You tilt your head and frown. “Are you-,” 

“This is the Way.” His voice warbles, just a little. 

“Are you sure?” You get the entire question out this time. 

Now it’s his turn to tease you. “No,” he says dryly. “I’ll change my mind after you open your eyes.” 

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “You’re very funny.” 

“Open them.” 

You think you might be more nervous than him to see his face. You honestly never thought you would get to, and you had long ago made peace with that. It didn’t matter to you what he looked like, you knew his heart and that was more than enough. 

You’ve tried to picture him before, from tracing your fingers over his face, but the image is only half formed and without detail. It felt wrong, somehow, too, to try to picture the face of someone who deliberately hid it. 

 Slowly, you peek your eyes open at him. Whatever you had pictured is nothing compared to the man you find yourself gazing at. 

A sense of vertigo sweeps through you, because it's almost like looking at a stranger. 

You have to resist the urge, for just a moment, to tear yourself away from him. 

His hair is darker in color than you thought it would be, but just as feathery and lightly curled as you imagined. Din’s eyes are dark, a deep brown that you’d like to spend lifetimes memorizing, falling inside. You were right too, from your explorations of his face with your hands, about the shape of his nose, his mustache, the patchy beard. You’d pictured his eyes all wrong, the shape of jaw.

One thing you couldn’t have guessed at is the naked expressiveness in his eyes. 

It makes sense though, he’s spent a lifetime without the need to school his features into anything other than exactly what he was feeling. 

You wonder how many times he’s looked at you with such longing, and you never knew. 

He says your name, a question mark tagged onto the end of it, his voice wrecked and strange without the modulator muffling his voice. 

The sound of his voice rips the upside down feeling away. It’s his voice, it’s him. Not some handsome stranger. 

Your eyes flit up from where your gaze had lingered on his lips, the pink shape of his mouth against golden skin. “I was right.” 

He frowns, eyes soft and worried. It shocks you again, just how open his emotions read in his eyes. “About what?” 

“I knew you were pretty. You are pretty,” you tease, pressing yourself against him, the hard contours of him biting into you. You fist your hands into the fabric at his sides. “Mesh’la.” 

Din frowns at you. “I told you that means beautiful, didn’t I?” His voice is playful and doesn’t match his expression. 

You nod and don’t answer, reaching up to cup your hand against his cheek. Din’s arm settles easily around your waist, dragging you closer, the weight of his helm in his hand heavy against your hip. Normally, you’d let him close the distance between you but you can’t quite manage to let him now, gazing instead at the planes of his face. “Mesh’la,” you tell him. “Ner riduur.” 

“That’s my line.” 

“Not anymore,” you tease. “Husband.”

You tip your chin into his and wait for him to meet you there. 

He gives a slight smile before leaning into you. “Not husband. Riduur.” 

“Right,” you agree, because really, it isn’t quite the same. It can’t be. “Ner riduur.” 

The kiss lingers long on your lips. He’s savoring you, a warm passion that doesn’t quite extend into heat. Din’s tongue meets yours briefly, the groan it tugs from his mouth sending flashes of lightning all the way down to your toes. 

The fireworks outside are no rival for the feelings clawing up the back of your throat. 

You want to tell him you love him, but you think he already knows. 

He breaks away to set his helmet down. When he turns back to you, his hands roam over you, free in their movement, tugging at the band of your trousers. 

You can’t stop staring at him, suddenly overwhelmed, drinking in the sight of him, the naked expression of him, everything he’s thinking spread over his face like a well loved language. 

All you’d wanted was to know the name he gifted you, instead - this. 

You map your hand over his face, tracing the divot between his brows, the curve of one sharp cheekbone. “I never thought I would see your face,” you whisper. 

Those soft, vulnerable eyes meet yours, arm wrapping around you again, as his bare forehead presses to yours, “And I always knew you would.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

If you want more of Din and his riduur, Significant-verse drabbles can be found here!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Ner riduur - my spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

Udesii - Relax, take it easy

Ad’ika - little one, baby

Su cuy'gar - Hello

Aruetii - outsider, foreigner, traitor

Ni ceta - an apology, rare

Osi'kyr - exclamation of surprise

Elek - yes

Mesh’la - beautiful

the sun literally sets and casts a golden hue over everything every single day and we fucked it all up and invented paying rent

Happy April Fools 2024

TBB Incorrect Quotes, Part 5

Omega: *standing at the top of the stairs* What are y'all doing at the bottom of the staircase?  Echo: I accidentally fell down.  Hunter: WRECKER PUSHED ME down the stairs because I refuse to pay HIS part of our rent!  Crosshair: Echo bet me fifty credits that I couldn't reach the bottom of the stairs faster than he did falling down it, so I slid down the banister to get my money.  Tech: I don't know how I got here. One moment, I was sleeping in my bed, three floors up, and then suddenly I was waking up here, just in time to get crushed by Crosshair.

Omega: *eating a cinnamon roll*  Hunter: Cannibalism.  Omega: *confused chewing noises*

Tech: What do you call quantums of electromagnetic radiation that don’t get along?  Hunter: What did you just say-  Tech: Foetons! *Laughs*  Hunter: Wh-what? 

Wrecker: I give up. I am so tired.  Echo: Get the emergency supply!  Tech: *carries Omega and places her in front of Wrecker*  Omega: *smiles*  Wrecker: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO 

Hunter: Crosshair, Wrecker, I love y’all and all, but can I ask what in the hell are you doing?  Crosshair, trying to stabilize a tower of folding chairs that Wrecker is sitting atop: Oh nothing much.  Wrecker: I love you too :) 

*In a group chat* Hunter: A pegan just flew into my window. Omega: Pegan? Tech: A what? Echo: Ah yes, my favourite bird, Pegan. Wrecker: I thought you said penguin for a second, LMAO! Echo: Just a normal day with flying penguins crashing into my window. Wrecker: You have pigeons flying into your window? Can't relate, I have penguins flying into my window. Hunter: I literally just made a typo-

Crosshair: How do Hunter and Tech usually get out of these messes?  Echo: They don't. They just make a bigger mess that cancels the first one out. 

*Tech teaching Wrecker to drive and taking Crosshair along for the ride*  Tech: That's a pothole. To the left!  Wrecker: Take it back now y'all *Drives into pothole*  Crosshair, sticking his face into the front over the center console: Cha Cha real smooth.  Wrecker: I don't think that's how the song goes.  Tech, crying and gripping the handle: Please just take me home.  Wrecker: Country Roads.  Crosshair: To the place.  Wrecker and Crosshair in unison: I Belong!  Tech, crying harder: What the fuck?

Hunter: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

Wrecker, putting his hands over Crosshair’s eyes: Guess who!  Crosshair: It's either Wrecker or the cold, clammy hands of death.  Wrecker, putting his hands away: It's Wrecker!  Crosshair: Dammit.

Echo: So oxygen went on a date with potassium, it went... OK. Hunter: I thought oxygen was dating magnesium, OMG. Echo: Actually oxygen first asked nitrogen out, but nitrogen was all like NO. Wrecker: I thought oxygen had that double bond with the hydrogen twins. Crosshair: Looks like someone's a HO. Hunter: NaBrO. Tech: I'm done with all of you!

Crosshair: What doesn't kill me better start running, because now I'm fucking pissed.

Wrecker: Oh god, he texted you ‘hi.’’ Punctuation only means one thing, Tech. He's mad at you. Tech: No, it's Crosshair. He's just being gramatically correct! *meanwhile* Crosshair: And then I used a period so he'd know that I'm mad at him. Hunter: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Crosshair: I stand by my choice.

Echo: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? Wrecker: Several traffic violations. Tech: Three counts of resisting arrest. Crosshair: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. Hunter: Also, that’s not our car.

Tech: Hunter is late again. Echo: How did this happen? I called him at 8 o’clock this morning and pretended it was 11. Wrecker: I printed up a fake schedule for him saying we were starting at 9 instead of noon. Omega: I set his clock to say PM when it’s really AM. Tech: Oh boy. We may have overdone it. *Hunter bursts through the door* Hunter: WHAT TIME IS IT?

Tech: Would you slap Wrecker- Crosshair: Yes. Tech: I didn't even finish! Crosshair: Sorry, continue. Tech: Would you slap Wrecker for 10 dollars? Crosshair: I would do it for free. Wrecker: Rude...

Omega: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? Tech: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it. Hunter: Three of us saw it, Tech. How do you explain that? Tech: *points at Crosshair* Sleep deprivation. *points at Hunter* Paranoia. *points at Echo* Delusional personality disorder.

Hunter: I think this might be a bad idea... Echo: Don't start thinking on me now!

Echo: Hey, no, you stay out of this, this is between me and Wrecker! Tech: So Wrecker knows about this? Echo, walking away: No, this is between me and me!

Echo: Wrecker- Wrecker: *sighs* Crosshair used to call me Wrecker... Echo: ...Because it's your fucking name.

Crosshair: Good morning. As you begin your day, remember that violence is always an option and often the answer. Hunter: Crosshair: Hunter: ...Please, go back to bed.

Wrecker: Do you mind if I slyly mention that you’re single? Tech: Do not do that. Wrecker: You won’t even notice! Phee, entering: Wrecker, you wanted to see me again? Wrecker: Tech's single Tech:

Hunter: I'm cold. Echo: Here, take my hoodie. *meanwhile* Omega: I'm cold. Crosshair: I can't control the weather, Omega.

Omega: Hey, wanna hear a funny joke? Crosshair: I only like dark humor. Omega, turning the lights off: What do you call a fake noodle? Crosshair: Omega: An IMPASTA!

Omega, trying her first ever cup of coffee: I am ENERGY! Hunter, an avid coffee drinker, on his twelfth cup of the day: Someone slap me awake or I am literally going to fall into a coma in ten seconds.

Tech: It's called cauliflower, not ghost broccoli. Wrecker, eyes wide: I know what I saw.

Omega: Hey, Crosshair? I need advice. Crosshair: I’m pretty useless at giving advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment instead?

*Crosshair and Wrecker's house is on fire, but they don't know it*  Crosshair: Damn, it's hot in here.  Wrecker: I know, it's so hot there's smoke coming out of the vent!  Crosshair:  Crosshair: First of all, I'm assuming you have no idea what the problem with that statement is.  Wrecker: What?  Crosshair: Second of all, we need to get the fuck out of here, NOW. Wrecker: I think I did fairly well on my anatomy quiz! :)  Omega: I forgot I was doing a test.  Echo: Omega.  Omega: I said the vertebrae was the back stick because I thought it was funny....  Tech: Omega.

Wrecker: Hey, Hunter. Why did the chicken cross the road?  Hunter: To get to the other side?  Wrecker: You were supposed to say “I dunno, why?“  Hunter: Uh... fine. I don’t know. Why did it cross the road?  Wrecker: To get to the idiot’s house.  Hunter: ...Ok?  Crosshair: Hey, Hunter. Knock knock.  Hunter: No.  Crosshair: You were supposed to say “who’s there?”  Hunter: Fine... let’s get this over with. Who’s there?  Crosshair: The chicken.  Hunter: Crosshair: Wrecker: Hunter: Listen here you little shits-

Echo: You know what?  Echo: When I joined this group I thought you guys would be dealing with my bullshit.  *Crosshair, Wrecker and Tech continue screaming about mold water*  Echo: Not the other way around. Hunter: I dunno, sounds like you need to drink the mold water.

Echo: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine!  Tech: How can you still say that?  Echo: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

Crosshair: Come on, Wrecker! How any times do I have to apologize?  Wrecker: Once!  Crosshair: ...No.

Echo: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture.  The Squad: Awwww-  Echo: And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything."  The Squad: Oh.

Wrecker: Everyone thinks I'm this soft cute person but I'm not!  Tech: Wrecker, you cried for an hour after stepping on a bug yesterday.  Wrecker: It had feelings! It was probably going home to dinner and I killed it!  Crosshair: ...It was a bug.  Wrecker: It was a BEETLE, and its wife is definitely worried sick, wondering where it is, and I really don't get why you all think I'm so sentimental because I'm not!  Tech: ...  Crosshair: ...  Wrecker: Stop looking at me like that!

Tech: Did you win? Or just not die?  Tech: Either way, hooray.  Hunter: ...Is "no" a valid answer?  Tech: The hooray is redacted and you frighten me.

Hunter: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner.  Crosshair: Hunter, It’s 1:15 am, what the fuck.  Hunter: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not.  Crosshair: Well, I mean yeah.  Hunter: So come downstairs while they’re still hot.  Crosshair: Wait, you just made them?  Hunter: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets.  Crosshair: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time Hunter.

*The Squad when asked about their earlier confession of love*  Echo: Yeah, you're lucky. I like you.  Tech: I'd understand if you didn't feel the same way...  Hunter: *has a panic attack* What confession?  Wrecker: *winks* I know, babe. You like me too.  Crosshair: So what? Are you going to date me or not? 

*Tech sends more than 5 messages in a row*  Crosshair: I ain’t reading all that.  Crosshair: I’m happy for you tho.  Crosshair: Or sorry that happened.

Omega: Problem, I can't tell if this food is over-sauced or undercooked.  Hunter: Solution, just pop it back in the oven for another 10 minutes. There's at least a 50% chance that'll fix it, right?  Tech: Result? Food has somehow become unpleasantly soggy and unpleasantly crunchy at the exact same time.  Wrecker: No better time than this to pull out my favorite word! Slunchy!  Crosshair: ...put it away. 

Crosshair: I’m quick at math.  Tech: Ok, what’s 38 times 76?  Crosshair: 24.  Tech: That wasn’t even close.  Crosshair: But it was quick.

Echo: While I'm gone, you're in charge Tech.  Tech: Yes!  Echo, whispering to Hunter: You're secretly in charge, but I don't want him to feel bad.  Hunter: Obviously.

Omega, piloting the Marauder: We have fun, don’t we, Tech?  Tech: I have never been more stressed out in my entire life.

Wrecker: *dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep?  Omega: Yes?  Wrecker: We’re in too deep.

Hunter: When life gives you lemonades, make lemons! Life will be all like "whaAttT?"  Echo: Life lessons that schools can't teach you.

Crosshair: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Wrecker will and will not eat.  Echo: Grass? Yes!  Crosshair: Moss? Yes!!  Echo: Leaves? Ohh, yes!  Crosshair: Shoelaces? Strange but true!  Echo: Worms? Sometimes!  Crosshair: Rocks? Usually nah.  Echo: Twigs? Usually!  Crosshair: Tech's cooking? Inconclusive!  Hunter: How did you… test this?  Crosshair: You just hand him stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if he eats it, he eats it.  Hunter: ... I don’t know how to feel about this.  Tech: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

Omega, gesturing to Echo: Wrecker, look what you did! You made Mom upset!  Tech: Mom, please don’t cry, we’re sorry!  Wrecker: I’m sorry Mom... :(  Echo, near tears: I DON’T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO ANY OF YOU! 

one of my greatest pet peeves in fiction, and it is truly stupid I know, is that no one seems to understand how genuinely hard it is to kill someone via stabbing. stab wounds have a mortality rate of like 5%. especially abdominal stabbing. tv shows and movies show dudes getting stabbed one time in the lower abdomen with a tiny knife and then they fall over. like what did he die of precisely. that man died of Small Knife

Part five is here! I had some trouble getting going with this one. Figuring out how to follow up the aftermath of the Toji fight was a bit of a challenge even though I already had an idea of how I wanted to go about it. This is one of the more dialog heavy chapters. Some background is given for reader. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 The next couple parts will be covering the events between Hidden inventory and Premature death. A whole lot can happen in a year after all. Suguru x reader x Satoru, GN!reader CW: Implied past child abuse though nothing is explicitly stated, descriptions of injuries in the aftermath of the fight from last chapter.Reader cries a lot which i mean is understandable. Word count:4K (Give or take)

Broken… You looked so broken laying on the ground with your arms at unnatural angles. It made Suguru feel sick as he takes several shaking steps toward you. He forces all his focus on you. He can see you’re breathing at least, shallow rapid breaths that shake your chest. He can’t say the same for Satoru. There’s no way he’s alive with how much blood has pooled all around him. Suguru tells himself he has to focus on who he can save.

Through his own pain he picks you as gently as he can. The blood from the wound in his chest mixes with the blood on your clothes. He wonders if it’s yours but doesn’t actually see injuries that would cause so much blood. His eyes flick over to Satoru’s still form and then back to you when you whimper. He feels both guilt and relief as he watches your face screw up in pain. You have enough life in you to still react to pain. You don’t wake up though. It’s for the best, he thinks bitterly. He doesn’t know how to face you right now. It’s because he and Satoru wanted you to come along that you’re like this now. Unbidden a question passes his lips, “Why’d you fight him…? You had to know you didn't have a chance.” He cradles you to his chest, gritting his teeth. He needs to get the both of you to help. The fact that you’re still alive, still with him, is something he refuses to let slip away. The bastard who did all this clearly has no qualms killing, he can only assume you’re still alive for the same reason he is but that probably won’t last if you don’t get medical attention.

____

When you wake it’s in a too stiff bed with scratchy sheets. The air smells like a combination of antiseptic and cursed energy. You’re slow to open your eyes, your head is throbbing and your eyelids feel heavy. Why are you here? And where is here? You flex your hands and your arms throb dully. 

“You’re awake.” The voice is both so familiar and so relieved and then he’s leaning into your space, dark hair loose and falling around you as he leans over, a gentle hand lightly pushing at your sternum to keep you from sitting up. “Easy, you shouldn’t move too fast even with Shoko’s healing.”

Suguru. Why is the sight of him so shocking, what happened- Memories of the mission come crashing down on you all at once. “Suguru…” your voice spills brokenly past your lips just like the tears down your cheeks. Your chest rises and falls rapidly and though it hurts, your body sore as you can ever remember it being you try to sit up, to get further into his space. 

He seems to realize what you’re doing and leans down further over you. His hands cup your face and he rests his forehead against yours. “Shhh, I know, just breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay. “

Under normal circumstances having him crowd into your space like this would have left you terribly flustered but not now. “It’s not okay though!” Your voice cracks. He gets what he wants though in the form of you staying down now that he’s close. He can feel you trembling like this. “We… the mission… We’re the only ones who..” You swallow hard. Despite the nerves in your arm’s protesting you raise them, shaking, to cover Suguru’s hands with your own. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Not quite.” He’s glad that he at least can give you some good news. 

“What do you mean? I saw the bodies myself, Suguru.” you close your eyes and tears flick from your lashes onto his face. “I saw Riko! I saw Kuroi. I- I… fuck, Suguru I saw Satoru’s body. I cradled his hea-

Someone gently clears their throat in the doorway and Suguru pulls away from your face, the curtain of his hair lifting to reveal Satoru himself standing in the doorway to the infirmary. Suguru very carefully helps you sit up this time when you attempt it. He doesn’t think he's ever seen you look so stunned before. At least with him you’d never thought you’d seen his body, he imagined that made wrapping your mind around him being alive much easier. Especially knowing now that you’d held Satoru while thinking he was dead. “H-how? I- when I-”

Satoru takes three strides into the room and pulls a chair that had been pushed out beside the bed with him before plopping down next to you across from Suguru. You finally tear your eyes away from Satoru to glance back at Suguru and then back to Satoru when you confirm Suguru was looking where you had been, his face somber  but at least confirming he sees what you do and without any surprise. You begin to reach a hand toward him and Satoru takes it, holding your smaller hand in his. It’s warm and undeniably full of life as he squeezes your hand.

“How?” you swallow hard, fighting another wave of tears beginning to cloud your vision. “I held you, you were dead! There was no.. you weren’t breathing-” 

“I know.. And I can explain it I promise. Just try to calm down.” 

“Calm down? How can I calm down? I thought everyone died!” Your shaking intensifies, entirely overwhelmed. You should be relieved, you know that but instead your mind is left struggling to process everything.

“Both of you out. I thought seeing the two of you first thing may be too much.” Yaga was standing in the doorway, a severe look on his face. You weren’t aware of it but he’d already said his peace about the boys taking you along without permission. Given how the mission went he wasn’t as harsh as he could have been. You’d all been through enough. 

Suguru clenches his fists against his pants before getting up and Satoru doesn’t look any happier but releases your hand and gets up to follow. “W-wait-” Your voice comes out small and with fresh panic at seeing them leaving. 

They both look back at you and Suguru forces a smile. “We’ll be back later, promise.” And with that they push past Yaga who closes the door and goes to take Satoru’s seat. It probably takes at least an hour to get you calm enough to talk in a meaningful way but you get there. Exhausted, eyes red from crying, you look at the man who’d taken you in and been your guardian for the last two and half years. 

“I shouldn’t have let you stay on that mission. You were never meant to be in that situation.” He sits there, hands folded in front of him. 

“Wasn’t I though.. If not now, then later right? You told me that… that I'd see awful things.. That I'd see friends die if I became a sorcerer..” He wants to say something but he lets you continue, wants to know where your mind is going with this. “Afterall it’s only because of my potential use as a sorcerer you were able to take me in with the higher ups cutting through the red tape. Otherwise I'd still be in…” You wrinkle your nose and your eyebrows draw low when you think of your circumstances before. “I’d still choose this.” It pains you to say it but it's true. You draw your knees up to your chest and hug them, ignoring the way you middle protests with being scrunched up. You squeeze your eyes shut fighting back fresh tears, though Yaga is unsure if it’s from physical pain or emotional.

The large man’s heart breaks a little seeing you like that. It reminded him of when he’d found you. It had been an overseas trip to try and locate a foreign sorcerer that had once been affiliated with Jujutsu tech. Instead all he found was their grandchild in terrible circumstances. It was an extremely unorthodox situation but that’s what the jujutsu world was right? When he’d realized you’d inherited your grandparent’s technique he’d seen an opportunity to help and had taken it. Technically you’d ‘gone missing’ in official reports and had a new identity forged as a citizen in japan. Sometimes he wonders if he was giving you a worse life than you’d had before but that was a pretty low bar to try and dig under. 

“That doesn't mean you should rush to see the worst of what our world has to offer.” It pained him that you viewed yourself through the lens of how useful you thought you needed to be to justify being taken into a better home. That seeing hell was just the price that had to be paid. He thinks maybe he failed in a way since you were still thinking that way two and half years into your new life. 

“I’m not… “ You look at him over your blanket covered knees. You would struggle with the after effects of this mission for years if not the rest of your life. Even now that’s something you understood. Whenever you closed your eyes you saw the people you failed to save as well as Satoru. God you’d been so sure he was dead when you’d held him. Taking a shuddering breath you ask. “May I see them.. I think I’ll be okay.” 

“I think it’s better for you to rest at least until tomorrow.” 

“But-”

He rubs at his temples. “I won’t keep you from them. You will get to see them later but for now just do as I ask and rest.” He can tell from the look on your face that you want to argue and maybe you would if not for being so exhausted. You knew he was right about you needing rest. 

“Tomorrow for sure?”

He sighs. “Would you actually listen if I said no?” 

You crack the barest of smiles. “You’ve told me I'm a terrible liar. So no, I probably wouldn’t.”

He snorts. “And here I hoped Geto would at least be a positive influence.” He actually had, in ways both older boys had. You’d been getting more confident, coming out of your shell more than he’d seen you do in almost all the time he’d taken care of you. 

He makes sure you’re able to take care of yourself, waits to make sure you’re capable of at least getting to the bathroom on your own. It wouldn't do to leave without making sure you can actually get up if you needed something. Walking makes your insides throb but you’re able to manage. Once you’re settled in bed he takes his leave, closing the infirmary door behind him. Finally alone for the first time since waking up you take stock of your body, you were sore, arms aching but all put back in their proper place. That man had meant it when he’d said he’d cripple you. You were certain that without Shoko that would have been the outcome. You smooth your hands over your midsection. You only vaguely remember the impact of his fist compared to the stark memory of your arms being dislocated and broken. The bastard’s smug face as he’d made you look at him flashes in your mind. You don’t even know his name, only the pain that he’d caused. Was he still out there? Your hands start to tremble and you close your eyes and give your head a shake. You weren’t going to think about him right now.

You look around the moonlit room until your eyes land on the little side table next to the bed. On it is a glass of water along with your phone. You grab the device. It’s only got a five percent charge. It had been fully charged when you’d left the hotel the other morning and you wonder how long you’d been unconscious. At least since mid afternoon.. You check the date. “Ah. Over a day..” you murmur to yourself. Suddenly you really don’t care how tired you are, you’re not sure how long Suguru and Satoru have been waiting for you to get up since you’re unsure how long the both of them were down themselves but you decide it’s been long enough regardless. 

“Besides he never asked if I’d listen and rest tonight, just if I would tomorrow.” You may be bad at lying if directly asked something but a little lie by omission? You could do that. You’re about to at least attempt to get your dying little phone to text one of them, you’d probably only need to text one of them since they often stay with eachother, but your lil brick of a phone decides to flash you a picture of a battery and shut down right at that moment. Now perhaps you should have taken that as a sign to go back to bed but you were feeling stubborn and knew you wanted to see them sooner than later. 

___

The room is lit only by the movie playing in the background, casting shifting light over the faces of the two young men who perhaps had never been paying attention to it in the first place. Suguru sits against the headboard near obsessively checking his phone to see if maybe you’d text once Yaga finally left you alone. Crystal blue eyes peer up at him from where Satoru rest’s his head on his dark haired companion’s shoulder. 

“They may have actually wore themself back out and went to sleep, Suguru.” It was a bit strange seeing Suguru be the fidgety and impatient one out of the two of them. Perhaps Satoru was less eager to see you simply because of how panicked you’d gotten when you saw him. It made guilt twist up in his chest and he knew he’d have to answer a lot of questions if you were calm enough to ask. 

“I should just go back down there… “

“Suguru-”

“They were such a mangled mess when I found them. I just need to see them be whole and awake.” Suguru’s expression is pinched, pained really. 

Satoru is quiet for a moment, he knows all too well the condition you’d been in. Broken as easily as if you were a porcelain ball jointed doll. Then he blinks and sits up from Suguru’s shoulder and looks to the door of the room. “I don’t think you’ll need to go to them.” 

And with that there’s a soft knock at the door. Suguru nearly flings himself off the bed and almost trips in his haste to get to the door. When he opens it he sees you standing there, looking a bit startled, probably by how quickly he’d gotten to and flung open the door. His eye’s scan over you taking in the small beads of sweat on your forehead and your arm wrapped about your middle. You’re still clearly in some pain but came over here by yourself instead of calling one of them. His relief at seeing you is mixed with a bit of frustration. 

“___, what’re you doing walking around? You should have just texted me or Satoru-”

“I was going to but my phone died…” You glance away sheepishly and lean against the doorframe for support. “Still wanted to see you though, didn’t want to be alone all night.” You don’t meet his eyes as you speak and are caught unaware as he scoops you up. “Suguru?!” You squeak his name in surprise. 

He turns with you in his arms and pushes the door closed behind him with his foot before carrying you toward his bed. He’s about to tell Satoru to scoot over but he does it without being told and you’re gently placed in the middle of the bed. He follows moments after and you find yourself suddenly propped up against the pillows snug between the two of them, your admittedly still sluggish mind struggling to process the sudden closeness and you can feel some heat rising in your face. You’re very much aware that you've become the literal center of attention for the two of them. It doesn’t make you panic though like it did the last time you found yourself in a similar position in this room, and there’s no teasing in any of their actions as they somehow crowd further into your space. Though it still leaves you at a loss for words when Suguru slides down a bit so he can tuck his face into your neck and Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulders, his fingers resting on Suguru’s neck. You’ve been enveloped by the two of them, pulled into a precious and private place. 

It’s oddly quiet for the three of you, with only the sounds of your breathing, the low murmur of the tv and the beginnings of rain tapping at the window. You can really feel them though. Warm and alive. Suguru’s breath fanning over your neck, the sound of Satoru’s heart beating next to your ear. You swallow thickly. All three of you were really alive. You hadn’t lost them. You’re so lost in your thoughts that it surprises you when Satoru brushes a thumb over your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had escaped. You’d thought you’d already wrung yourself dry honestly. 

“Hey-” he begins, concern filling his uncovered eyes.

You shake your head. “No it’s,” you take a shaky breath and Suguru pulls back from your neck slightly so he can examine your face. “It’s a.. It’s a good cry. “ You reach up and rub roughly at your face. “You’re both really here.. I’d been so sure that you were both dead when that-” Another shaky breath and you cut yourself off. You don’t want to think about that bastard. Not right now. “I’m just so relieved you’re both still alive,” you breathe out, seeming to regain your composer.

The two of them share a look and without saying anything seem to agree on something, Suguru nodded to Satoru. “I was aware of everything, you know?”

You look at him wide eyed. “But how? I mean I’m still not even sure how you’re alive. You weren’t breathing when I got to you.” 

“Yeah it’s a lil hard to do that when one of your lungs get’s cut in half,” he tries for humor but notices how you blanche. Quieter he says, “Sorry.”  with the arm that’s not wrapped around your shoulders he reaches for one of your hands, when you don’t pull away he continues. “On the brink of death It finally clicked how to use reverse cursed technique. It was slow at first. Just enough to keep me from death. Then you showed up. It was comforting and I wanted to tell you I was still alive, to do anything in that moment to let you know.” 

The idea that he’d been alive and aware of you while you held him, his blood soaking into your clothes was making your mind reel. You open and close your mouth and when nothing comes out he speaks again. 

“My awareness wasn’t perfect. But I still knew what was going on.” Some anger creeps into his expression. “When he showed up and you drew your weapon I was screaming inside. Wondering what the hell you were doing. Fuck if Suguru and I couldn’t beat him why would you fight him? He was going to ignore you and leave.” His voice raises slightly and you flinch. 

“He’s not the only one wondering that you know. At first I thought maybe he’d decided to have a go at you just because he could and tried to rationalize that normally you’re smarter than that until Satoru told me what happened.” Suguru’s words stung but you knew neither of them were wrong. 

You stare down to where your hand is being held by Satoru and your other clutches your pant leg. “I know it was stupid,” you admit quietly. “The truth is I wasn’t really thinking at that point. With how the whole mission had gone sideways and I was trying to wrap my head around one of you being dead already and when that monster spoke to me I lost it. In my mind that meant both of you were dead.” You bring your free hand up and push your hair back from your face, tugging at it a little. 

“You almost died.” Suguru’s voice is quiet. “Shoko said If you’d gone much longer without healing you would have bled out internally.”  You wince, more at the underlying pain in Suguru’s voice than anything. 

Satoru looks away from you for the first time since this conversation began and looks at the rain streaked window. He was glad that Suguru at least hadn’t gotten a front seat to your beating like he had. The memory of the  sounds of your limbs breaking and your ear shattering scream make bile rise in his throat.  And while he really wished you hadn’t further provoked the man he’s not sure that bastard would have left you with just your arms wrecked even if you hadn’t spit in his face. Normally he would get a kick out of you getting feisty like that but in this situation it in all likelihood got you a good deal more hurt. The injuries to your arms wouldn’t have been lethal but the crushing blow to your stomach had been like you’d been hit by a truck but the impact had been focused entirely into the diameter of that man’s fist. He had no doubt you’d reinforced yourself with cursed energy otherwise there’s no way Suguru would have gotten to you in time and you might have actually had a hole through your stomach instead of your organs getting battered.

When you remain quiet, thinking over their words Suguru speaks again, drawing Satoru’s gaze back. “How do you think we would have felt if you’d died and we both survived? After we decided to bring you with us? Your death would have been on us.” He sits up so he can look at you more directly. 

You’d already admitted you hadn’t been thinking in the moment but that question really struck you. You hadn’t thought either of them were alive but he’s right, you’d been wrong in your assumption and had nearly died for it. Almost left them behind like you thought you had been.  

“You went into a frenzy because you thought we’d died right? Because you thought you lost us both and that feeling overwhelmed you?” Satoru questions you and glances away when you look toward him. “Neither of us wants to lose you either. So just…” He roughly runs a hand through his hair, making it spike out wildly. The anger that had pinched his expression fades and turns into something softer, his cheeks tingeing just a bit pink in the low light of the TV’s glow. “Keep yourself safe even if you don’t want to do it for yourself, do it for us. Even if you think one or both of us has died you need to keep living. Because what's the point if you’re not alive and happy?” 

Suguru chuckles and Satoru gives him a somewhat annoyed look, “What?”

“Nothing. You just put that very well. Almost sounds like you were making a confession for the both of us.” A smug sort of smile etches its way onto Suguru’s tired face, his first smile since what happened in the depths of Jujutsu tech. 

You’re glancing back and forth between the two of them with large eyes, gears turning in your head overriding some of the guilt that had been building. A confession..? The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place for you.  All the time spent training with you, the movie night, taking you on that mission even though they knew Yaga would be pissed at them, all the moments you’d shared with them leading up to going back to the school, your position now snug between the two of them-  You let go of Satoru’s hand and dip your head, covering your face with your hands. Okay maybe you’re a little stupid.

And that's it for part 5! I really hope you guys like it. And yes we're finally hitting the relationship part of things! If you find any errors please ignore them, I've gone over this so many times already to catch everything that I nearly went cross eyed.

@strawberrystepmom @icy-spicy @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest @porridgesblog

I've rarely seen a more validating sentence in my entire life.