#caregiver reader

little!han (3)

★ little han that regresses all the way down to a tiny 3-year-old, losing most of his words and just making grabby hands at you because he’s just wants to be held.

★ little han that is so cuddly he becomes a literal limpet, wrapping his legs around your waist and burying his face in your neck, refusing to let go even when it’s time for him to eat his snacks.

★ little han that gets "the big sads" and immediately runs away to hide, pouting in silence until you finally "find" him, at which point he bursts into tiny sobs and clings to the front of your shirt while you rock him back and forth with his favorite pacifier.

★ little han who will not let you even think about weaning him off his pacifier, getting extra clingy and pouting until it's safely back in his mouth, and breaking into a full-blown lip-wobble the second he thinks you might be trying to take it away.

★ little han that communicates his needs through a series of mumbles and babbles, despite knowing how to speak, only settling down once he gets what he wants.

little!seungmin (6)

★  little seungmin that is a mischievous 6-year-old, has a puppy ear headband that he won't take off because he’s adamant that he’s a real puppy.

★ little seungmin that is so incredibly proud of the fact that he just learned how to read, insisting on "reading" the back of the cereal box or his picture books out loud to show off his big boy skills.

★ little seungmin that tries so hard to make friends with the neighborhood puppies whenever you take him out, but he usually ends up scaring them away because he’s just a bit too loud and enthusiastic with his "woofs," leaving him pouting and confused as to why his new friends won't stay and play with him.

★ little seungmin that takes his role as the "big brother" very seriously, trying to read a bedtime story to han even if he trips over the big words and gets frustrated when the 3-year-old falls asleep too fast.

★  little seungmin that gets the "zoomies" and can frequently be seen talking to no one in the background, muttering to his imaginary friends while he circles your legs and barks happily until you acknowledge him.

There was a small shuffle from her room. Not the confident, reckless kind you’d normally hear. This one was hesitant, almost guilty. You approached slowly, giving her time, giving her space. The door was cracked open just a little.

You gently tapped.

“…Baby? Can I come in?”

A quiet, tiny voice floated back.

“…yeah.”

You pushed the door open.

Jinx was curled up in the middle of the bed, knees hugged to her chest, oversized hoodie swallowing her whole frame. Her blue braids rested limply over her shoulders. Her big pink eyes flicked up toward you.

She was regressed.

You softened instantly, “Hi, firefly.”

Her lip wobbled, and she lifted her arms in a small, hesitant reach — the wordless request she only ever made in this state.

You crossed the room and sat beside her, letting her crawl into your lap like she was made for the space. She buried her face into your chest, softly fisting the fabric of your shirt.

You stroked her hair, slow and grounding,

“What happened today, sweet girl?”

She shrugged against you, nuzzling deeper, “Dunno. Brain got loud.”

“Yeah?” you murmured, rocking slightly, “Loud in a bad way or loud like ‘Jinx has a dozen new ideas’?”

She huffed a tiny breath that might’ve been a laugh but sounded to sad to be right, “Bad way.”

Your hand cupped the back of her head, “I’m here now.”

Her breathing eased a little.

“Can… can me do quiet things?” she whispered, voice small and trembling around the edges. “Not kaboom things...?"

“Of course we can,” you said immediately, chuckling, “Whatever you need, my firefly.”

She relaxed against you like those words alone were a blanket.

You settled her into a little routine, the one you both knew helped most, you brought out her softest blanket, the pastel blue one she hid behind the grenades in her closet so no one would tease her about it. She nuzzled into it.

You turned on the fairy lights above the bed. Jinx always said they looked like tiny fireflies, like the ones she used to chase as a kid. Their glow reflected in her eyes, calming her.

“Color?” you asked gently, tilting your head.

She nodded eagerly and you grabbed the big coloring book you had filled with silly doodles; cartoon bombs with smiley faces, goofy versions of her inventions, little critters she liked. When you sat next to her, she scooted so close she was practically in your side, she didn't like distance at all.

She picked a crayon, gripping it clumsily, and a soft pout crossed her face,“S’not staying in the lines,” she muttered.

“Doesn’t have to,” you reassured softly, “Your art is perfect however it comes out.”

Her shoulders loosened. She leaned against you, drawing messily but contentedly. Sometimes she’d pause just to bump her forehead into your arm, seeking connection. You always bumped back.

When she finished a page, she looked up at you expectantly, "Well?” she asked, eyes bright with the smallest flicker of pride.

You tapped the drawing thoughtfully, tapping the paper, “I think this bomb looks quite friendly.”

“It is! It gives hugs before it explodes.”

“Very considerate of it,” you said warmly, holding in a chuckle.

Jinx giggled, that sound alone made your chest swell.

Eventually, you noticed her energy dipping.

You got her a snack, animal-shaped cookies, a cup of warm milk with a silly bendy straw because she loved those.

She took a sip, then leaned her head against your shoulder.

“…Did I make trouble today?” she whispered, sounding worried.

“No,” you said instantly, turning toward her, "You’re never trouble.”

She blinked up at you, unsure, “You promise?”

You cupped her cheeks in both hands, “I promise, firefly. You didn’t do anything wrong. Having bad days doesn’t make you bad.”

She swallowed hard, then nodded and huffed. You brushed your thumb over her cheek, “I’ve got you. All you have to do is be here.”

She grunted softly, and wrapped her arms around your middle. You guided her to lie down, pulling the blanket over both of you. She immediately curled up against you, tucking her face under your chin. Her bangs tickled your neck. You stroked her back in slow, soothing motions.

“No go?” she murmured.

“Never.”

She made a tiny noise, a soft, kittenish chirp and relaxed fully into you.

You held her until her breathing evened out, until the tremors in her hands faded away, until the chaotic brilliance of Jinx quieted into something peaceful and soft.

Right before she drifted off, she mumbled, “Love you...”

Over the course of one afternoon your entire life changed, and kept changing.

Simon got hurt.

Bad.

Raphaela told you.

You went shopping for things you would need to care for Simon as he recovered from his injuries—whatever they were. Researching about Manchester and its foods. That was a rabbit hole you had fun going down. Pain meds can be harsh on the stomach.

She recommended getting your paramedic stuff in order, replacing anything you might need, just in case.

The fire house you volunteered at always had extra, so you talked to the Fire Chief and explained the situation. The Fire Chief agreed to your request unless major incidents occurred. You agreed,

Simon needed you. You were gonna make sure you would do your best.

Once Simon came home, you met Taskforce 141.

Captain John Price. Could be anyone’s dad. He’s sweet and kind. He’s stern, gives orders, and expects to be followed. He loves cigars and fishing from what his clothes told you. His brown eyes have seen a lot. His salt and pepper brown hair is very telling of his stress tolerance. His mustache gives away his age but well taken care of. He also is the one who gives you just enough details to appease your worries as to what happened to Simon and to make sure you are able to take care of him. He also briefly advised what happened to Simon while in ICU.

Saw Johnny again—Sergeant John MacTavish. He was ever the flirt. Turning your face red throughout the afternoon. Raphaela had to come to your rescue a few times so he’d stop. You liked the attention. The man had such amazing blue eyes that capture you and a fucking war-hawk, as he called it. He made you laugh a lot. He explained what happened to Simon too.

Sergeant Kyle Garrick was lean, pretty, confident, and very well put together. He’s excellent at reading a room, and saved you a few times from the flirting Scotsman. He came and helped you with Simon. While you two got Simon settled, he explained what happened, too, in much more detail than the others.

Simon.

Simon—whose head was wrapped up, heavily bruised face bare, and had a moderate concussion aka Traumatic Brain Injury. Whose left eye was swollen shut, and so purple, it was black. The swelling and bruising spread down the left side of his face. So much bruising. It made you internally cringe at the sight, knowing from experience how much that hurt and took to recover from.

He was wobbly from the pain medication the hospital gave him. You had him get set up on the couch in a sitting position on the ends closest to the front door, so he could go to his room or the bathroom easier. Thankfully, the couch—on both ends— has built-in recliners. He’s in military blue sweats, matching hospital socks, and a military blue zip-up hoodie with a plain white t-shirt underneath.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to do anything. It was unexpected to see him being around so many people without a mask—even if it is his squad or friends, at least initially.

To you, it was strange and made you wonder if he was okay without it. The problem was he wasn’t talking.

Once dinner was done cooking and Ralph was making bowls for everyone, handling the meal. You went into Simon’s room and looked around his drawers until you found where he stashed his balaclavas. He had an entire drawer full. Feeling the material, you felt for the stretchiest one and walked back to him. You work on stretching it out further around the left side.

When Johnny sees what you’re doing, he stopped talking and watched you.

You are so focused on making sure Simon was cared for and protected properly, you don’t notice being stared at.

Simon was awake and alert. He was silently watching everyone, just like at the party, and confused by Soap’s reaction.

Your gut told you right now he needed his mask, his armor. You don’t know why but your gut never led you wrong in your life. You stood in front of him. His head shifts slightly, looking up at you.

You work the balaclava into a roll of sorts before squatting down in front of him with a small smile. “Hey,” you quietly greeted

He whispered, “Y’alright?” You smiled widely at him and nodded.

Johnny smacked Kyle before pointing. Simon hadn’t spoken a word since before the incident. He’s only grunted. Price watched you. Ever curious how you’ve ensnared his silent, hypervigilant, and brooding Lieutenant.

You showed Simon the rolled up mask. He glanced at it, face unreadable, then back to you and grunted with a slight nod. Standing up, you walked to his side and slowly began to roll the balaclava down, trying to gently apply the compression. “Should help the swelling and pain, too,” you quietly informed him.

Rolling it down the back of his head easily, the front was a bit challenging as you slowly walked around, mindful of his left leg. Made certain the balaclava sat correctly on his face. Once it was fully covered, you made sure it spread out correctly down his neck and tucked it under his shirt. You felt him begin to relax under hands.

Bent over, hands resting on your thighs. Meeting his one opened eye and grinned. “There’s my Simon,” you quietly exhaled, eyes bright and smiling soft. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed ya.” You cup his uninjured cheek, slightly rubbing it. He unconsciously leaned into your touch. He seemed to be giving a small smile from the way his one good eye wrinkles and cheek shifts up.

“You’re gonna be ok. You got me. I’m a very good caretaker if I may say so myself,” you boasted, trying to be a bit silly at the end.

“It’s true,” Ralph piped in. “Took care of me and Wolf when we got Covid..like three times.”

The taskforce looked at the two with raised eyebrows. Raphaela shrugged. “Eat up, boys.” She and Wolf dug into dinner. The taskforce returned to the dinner table and chatter started up again.

“I’ll be right back,” you made sure he knew and slipped your hand from his face. He watched you leave. His cheek felt cold. Wondering what you were doing. He craved to set you in his lap and hold you against him. He hated how weak he knew he was right now.

You returned with two bowls and a big water cup with a straw. He noted that one bowl had silverware. You set the bowls on the coffee table and the drink on the end table next to his right hand. He had difficulty leaning forward to see the inside of both bowls. One was obviously what everyone else was eating but the other seemed empty.

This was the bowl you picked up and held up so he could see. It appeared to be cut up bread with some kind of spread on it. “Marmite on toast,” you informed. “I read up on sick day foods Mancs prefer. It’s ok if you don’t.” Simon’s one good eye widened, peering at you. You motion with your chin the drink. “That’s flat ginger ale with lemon and honey tea and a few splashes of whisky. Proper sick day brew.” You spoke as if proper and his chest warmed at your dedication. He didn’t deserve you, deserve your care.

Oh, how he wanted to hold you against him!

Ralph choked on her food. Looked up wide eyed at you.

“You holdin’ out on me, Lucy,” she gasped, funny sounding like a bad 1940s gangster impersonation.

You glared at the woman and quirked a brow. “It’s fer the sick, Ethel. Go buoy yer own,” you demanded through gritted teeth with no heat before sticking out your tongue at her. She snorted and giggled before returning to her conversation.

Wolf and the three men at the table exchanged looks. Wolf, of course, silently explained this was normal behavior between you two. The three military men accepted this silent communication and kept eating. Simon just observed and noted it.

“Before I was rudely interrupted.” You look at Simon with a soft smile. “So, I looked up Manc’s favorite sick day foods online, and then watched way too many YouTube videos by people who sound a lot like you. I learned what marmite is and how to make proper beans on toast. I even learned American options to make a proper English breakfast.”

Listening to you speak, and seeing your wide grin—very proud of yourself—about what you did for him, confused the man. “Why?” His voice was deep and hoarse questioned.

Tilting your head to one side, your brow furrowed and frowning. “What do you mean ‘why’?” After a couple of seconds, you explain in a serious tone, “You’re hurt, Simon. One of the best ways to heal, other than medicine, is to be home with people you love and who love you, and taken care of so you don’t have to heal alone. You need a lot of rest, sleep, and care. That’s why.”

Suddenly returned to the previous topic, “Oh! Also, with Manc favorite foods, especially comfort foods. I got the tomato soup brand that was recommended by a few of those YouTubers with the cheese too. I made sure to get white bread for the toast. You Mancs are weird. White bread? Ew.”

Simon huffed a laugh but tensed up at the pain on his left side, right hand immediately pressing on his left side ribs. You waited until he relaxed again before doing or saying anything else

He slowly allowed himself to relax and leaned back into the seat. His chest warmed and ached at what you’d done just to make him feel better. He took your free hand in his, raised it to his covered mouth, and kissed the top of it. You shyly looked down and turn so red that your freckles can be easily seen.

He leans forward and says, “Vank ya, luvie.”

You giggle and squeeze his hand with a shake of your head. “You’re welcome but you didn’t need to say that…or do that. I want you to feel better, sweetie.” You shrug. “What better way than foods your mom would make when you’re sick as a kid?”

Everyone but Wolf and you tensed at your words. The taskforce waited to see how Ghost reacted, unsure if you knew or not about any of his past.

Simon forced himself to relax at those words, knowing you don’t know. It was so touching how you wanted to remind him of good things. “She did,” he hoarsely agreed. “She’d, uh,” he began as he worked to remember bits and pieces. “She made me an’ me brover marmi’e-n-toast an’ tea when sick.” He nodded. “Safe, birdie.”

“Glad I could help. Eat up. I gotta go blow up the comfy air mattress,” you advised and kissed his unscathed cheek.

Once everyone left, it was just Simon and you, lying on a pillow topped king sized air mattress with super soft sheets and comfy pillows. You helped wipe Simon down in a pseudo bath, just to make him feel a bit cleaner. You left him alone to do his man parts and finish set up the bed.

Right now, you two were watching Blue Planet II—a documentary you noticed Simon would have on in the background. He sat, eyes on the screen with his back against the couch. The couch acting like a headboard of sorts. With you pressed into his right side, holding his hand, and your head on his thigh.

You had a notebook and his discharge papers folding up next to you on the floor. You made a plan of action with alarms on your cell and all the medicine and wound care stuff sent home with him right next to you with a trash can and a box of nylon gloves. You even have your paramedic bag and equipment, just in case.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Simon “Ghost” Riley X Reader Subscribers:

He doesn't have many activities to do in general, let alone regressed so he just naps under his blankets.

He ordered blankets specially for the occassion where he regresses. It's a few soft, pastel blankets. He always wanted to get his own toy box, but he feels like that's embarassing.

Moves his Toto toy from the living room to his bedroom when guests came in.

When the Cataclysm blows over, he still keeps the kitty around.

He sees the cat as his caregiver even if the cat doesn't do much.

Frequently clings onto kitty and drags her around to babble to her about whatever. She seems to be tolerant.

Gets upset easily if the cat rejects him. One time, he cried for an hour because the cat scratched him.

He KNOWS he should be gentle with her, but he just wants to pick her up and carry her everywhere he goes!

Watches old childhood cartoons on VHS when he's regressed.

He DESPERATELY wants a caregiver to guide him, protect him, spoil him, and baby him. He's so tired of being alone. At the same time, he's wary of everyone.

When you become his caregiver, however that came to be, he will be hiding from you for weeks, months, maybe even a year. He'll hide under blankets, only coming out to use the bathroom or eat whatever you put outside by his nightstand.

He will be so grateful for everything you do. Whether it's helping him clean around the house, buying him things, etc.

He's scared of the roaches in his fridge when he regresses to the point where he'll run to you asking you to open the door for him. You wound up getting an exterminator and a new fridge which tore him up since he's used to everything being the same.

You made it up to him with his favorite dish, dessert, and you surprised him with a bubble bath and a new toy.

He's most talkative when he's regressed. So talkative in fact, that he gets quiet occassionally because he's worried if he's too much.

He happily rambles to you about the adventures him, Toto, Wowo (the new plush he named), and Kitty went on.

Loves pillow forts. But he gets distressed when you ruin the order (someone headcanoned that Protag has OCD and I'm sorta intrigued. Please lmk if I poorly represent OCD)

Gets disturbing intrusive thoughts and night terrors. Frequently clings onto you whilst begging you not to abandon him.

Doesn't cry often, but when he does it's a flood and it can go on for hours.

Always hides under blankets and pillows when he cries. He hates being seen. He will take Toto and Wowo with him. By now, Kitty has grown more clingy and follows him around, so she's either purring in his arms to soothe him of his cries or she's sitting in front of the fort.

Often wishes he was tinier or Kitty was larger so he could ride on her back.

More of a sobber than a tantrum type. He feels humiliated as is crying, expressing his frustration via tantrums would only make him feel even more inferior.

Sometimes you might have to sit outside of his fort for hours until he pokes his hand out of the sheets.

One day he does manage to cry in front of you and his arms reached out to you hoping you'd hold him like his parents should have.

Age regression seemed to have made him healthier over time.

Big tasks seemed smaller when he was mentally little.

He started taking better care of himself because he knows you'd want that. He started eating baby carrots whenever he craved a cigarette to try and reduce that oral fixation. Sometimes he snacks on frozen blueberries and grapes too.

Babbles to you until it involves his feelings, then it's more muted.

One day, he mumbles something to you before repeating it louder so you could hear.

"I know... I'm... a lot sometimes. But I'm grateful you're patient. I know I don't deserve it but... but..."

He couldn't finish the sentence before tears started choking his words and threaten to spill.

You know words are difficult for him. You know how much he's grown and you tell him just how proud you are of him with a boop to the nose.

Summary:

The fight with Sukuna has finally ended. Before he’s wisked off the battlefield the boy named Yuji begs you to try and save what’s left of his older brother.

AN:

I have been drowning in writers block. The manga has me so damn depressed and the one I want to live most right now is our baby Choso. He deserves to live that domestic life he never got to feel. Best big brother ever.

Picking up the Pieces

Choso had thought for sure he had died. No he definitely died. He had protected his little brother with his life. There wasn’t a more noble way to die. Now his brother would have the chance to thrive and grow old. Find a first love, have his first kiss, buy his first home. Have children that would have called him uncle Chocho. Never mind that Choso never had the chance to do any of those things either. Yuji would have the chance that he never did; and that made it all worthwhile.

“I’ve got you, just hold on.” Someone is talking to him. The voice is what he imagines angels sound like. Do curses get to go to heaven? Maybe death won’t be so bad. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

He’s so tired. More tired than he’s ever been in his existence. A part of him is annoyed you keep shaking him awake. Just let him rest for a minute. “Yuji needs you, so you can’t give up yet.”

Yuji? Who’s Yuji and why did he-? Yuji. Yuji! He takes a gasping breath in as his chest keeps getting harshly pushed on. He doesn’t know what CPR is but it’s painful. You keep pushing against his broken ribs. Don’t you know that’s excruciating? Wait, what about Yuji? “Yuji?” The words come out strangled and almost too low to hear.

“Holy shit you’re alive.” Your voice breaks with a mixture of relief and joy. “We're not out of the woods yet but damn it but we’ll get there!”

He tries to ask for Yuji again but all that escapes is a hacking cough from all the smoke he inhaled during his fight with Sukuna.

Thankfully, you somehow manage to understand and respond accordingly, “Oh, right. Yeah, Yuji is okay. Better than okay. Well I mean they rushed him to Shoko, our healer, but he’s gonna be okay. He’s not a vessel anymore. They won. I don’t know how they pulled it off but they won.”

The wave of relief that washes over him is visible. Your voice is coming in a little panicked now, “Woah, woah, woah! Nope! Yuji is okay but he still needs you. When they rushed him off he was asking for you. He begged me to save you. Said you’re the best big brother in the world.” Your tone warbles and his face feels wet. At least he thinks it does. Are you crying? Why are you crying? He’s a curse. You’re presumably one of Yuji’s companions, a sorcerer. Shouldn’t you want him dead? He’s straining to try and make out your features but you look like a shadow on a curtain or static on a tv. Are his eyes even open? Does it matter? He feels so nice, so warm. You’re cradling him and he can’t help but wonder if this is what his mothers love would have felt like. If his father wasn’t a rapist and if he hadn’t been born a monster.

“Shit, shit, shit. I’m losing him again!” Your voice is shrill and screaming as you wake him up again. You’re yelling names he doesn’t know, “Nitta! Nitta!” The sound is fading out. He can’t hear anything now. That’s alright. It’s perfect to go back to sleep to. He’s so warm and lovingly held. Just a little nap, well..maybe a long one. A nice long sleep.

~~

“I’ve got you, just hold on.” Your fingers keep slipping as you’re trying to do chest compressions. There’s just so much blood. The entire area reeks of it. Blood, smoke, dust. Smells of a battlefield. His pulse is so slow you’re not sure if it’s stopped or not. “Don’t you dare die on me.” This was bad. The worst you’ve ever seen. His body is so burnt and mutilated at this point he isn’t able to regenerate like a curse normally would. You try to infuse him with your cursed energy but it’s like his body doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s trying to shut down and you’re here telling it to work harder.

You can’t give up though. You’ve barely met the man in front of you but you know Yuji. As Shoko rushed Yuji off the battlefield his eyes had met yours. Choso’s name on his lips, his eyes a plea. “Please, Cho- tell him he’s the best big brother I could have asked for.”

The pain in Yuji’s eyes had been so raw. So visceral. Not even knowing what you were agreeing to you had yelled to Yuji, “I’ll do everything I can!”

So here you are. You aren’t sure if your reverse curse is even doing anything at this point. There are so many disconnected pieces of tissue. Blood vessels and veins so destroyed there is nothing left to repair. Nowhere for your technique to start. You can’t create something from nothing. He’s not breathing. Chest compressions. You’re throwing all the strength you have left into them. You vaguely remember someone saying you should push to the beat of “Staying Alive”. The song feels inappropriate in your head but it helps your timing. At least you hope it does.

The curse lying on the ground has given everything for his brother. Now you need him to live for himself. Grunting with exertion you manage to say, “Yuji needs you, so you can’t give up yet.”

When the corpse in front of you gasps you’re momentarily stunned. When are you supposed to stop chest compressions? Now? He’s hacking and you're trying to help him clear his airway. You're shocked he has an airway. Sukuna had practically obliterated him with flames. His lips are moving. You feel your cursed energy finally managed to find something inside of him it can work with.

Hands under his underarms, you pull. He’s not as heavy as you expected. Of course he isn't, he doesn't have anything left below the knees. You’ve managed to get his head resting on your thighs as you sit in the crumbling city turned battleground. He manages to croak out one word. “Yuji?” The word comes out strangled and almost too low to hear.

“Holy shit you’re alive.” Your voice breaks with a mixture of relief and joy. He would ask about his brother when he’s the one who is holding on by a thread. “We're not out of the woods yet but damn it we’ll get there!”

He’s giving this terrifying sounding cough that’s more liquid than air; but to cough means he has something there to cough with. His eyes open and his pupils are unfocused and blown. They don’t respond at all to light.

His brows are furrowing in panic when you don’t immediately respond, “Oh, right. Yeah, Yuji is okay. Better than okay. Well I mean they rushed him to Shoko, our healer but he’s gonna be okay. He’s not a vessel anymore. They won. I don’t know how they pulled it off but they won.”

His lip somehow manages to curl into a hint of a smile. He must not be able to feel any pain due to all the adrenaline. He’s relaxing against you and his eyes are closing. “Woah, woah, woah! Nope! Yuji is okay but he still needs you. When they rushed him off he was asking for you. He begged me to save you. Said you’re the best big brother in the world.” Your tone warbles and you’re yelling at yourself to hold it together. Tears fall from your visage on to his. You want to at least comfort him in his potential final moments.

Your hands go to rest on his cheeks. Your fingers lightly caressing him as you continue to give everything you have left in yourself to heal him. You brush his dark sweaty bangs off his forehead. His eyes open partially again staring into the sky. He’s rejecting your cursed energy again. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m losing him again!” You have to make an executive decision. You had been trying to give him the strength to kickstart his own regenerative capabilities but there’s not enough energy in him anymore to utilize it. You have to stop the bleeding. You have to sacrifice his legs below the knee if he’s going to survive. Rather than regrow the limbs like he normally would you focus purely on closing every open wound you can find. FUCK. Where is Shoko? Where is Arata Nitta? Someone? Anyone? There are too many wounded and dying. Not enough healers. Never enough healers.

A streak of platinum blonde hair in the distance catches your gaze, “Nitta! Nitta!” He was one of your underclassmen before you graduated. The Kyoto school is small enough to where everyone knows everyone. Nita’s looking for you in the rubble, unable to tell where your voice is coming from at first. “Arata!” His eyes lock on yours and he’s sprinting through the chaos. He looks like a track star the way he’s jumping building detritus like they’re hurdles.

He’s leaning over you trying to find where you are bleeding from but it’s all Choso’s blood. At least you think it is. “Can you help him?” Nitta’s face jerks down to what he had thought was a corpse in your arms.

He’s shaking his head no but he’s doing the movements for his technique. It won’t heal the curse hybrid but it will buy him time and at this point you’ll take anything you can get.

There’s a sharp tug in your gut as your cursed energy feels like it’s suddenly being siphoned out of you. You originally couldn’t find any of Choso’s energy to help him. Now large lifesaving gulps of your cursed energy flow into the man fighting for his life on your lap. You gasp in pain as you try to limit the amount of energy you are giving out at once. Choso’s not even conscious but instinctually his body is struggling like it’s drowning and you're the life preserver.

Nitta looks panicked, “He’s going to kill you!” You can’t afford to pass out now there are so many more people that need healing. Choso is unconsciously pulling you under with him. “This is a curse. It feeds off our kind. He’ll take from you until there’s nothing left.”

Shit. You feel like you’re going to faint. Choso’s eyelids are fluttering, they open as if seeing you for the first time. He’s clearly still delirious as his onyx eyes look at you confused. You visibly flinch, a groan in pain leaving you as he takes more of your energy. Understanding clicks in his brain and the rapid siphoning of your energy abruptly stops. Nitta is calling your name.

Nitta tries to pull you away from Choso so he can’t cling to your energy again, but you refuse to budge. You're not sure if Choso is even conscious despite his eyes jerkily roaming your face. Caressing Choso’s brow, you lean over him. Your lips are near his ear as you murmur comforting words. “I’ve got you. Everything is going to be okay.”

Chapter 2

AN:

If people want more I’ll continue. It just flowed out so here it is. Please don’t comment if you don’t have anything nice to say.

Moving the curtain, you enter the room. Leo laid on his shell. Junior laid cuddled to the turtle, sucking lightly on his thumb. Leo theatrically read a Jupitor Jim comic to the younger boy who starred in wonderment. A smile sat softly on your face at the sight. As much as you didn’t want to interrupt you knew Casey needed his snack before he got moody. He wouldn’t throw a tantrum, he'd just get sad, and neither you nor Leo could take that sight.

“I hate to interrupt,” You said sweetly. “But I come with treats.” You sat on the edge of the bed and held up the plate.

Casey bounced up happily reaching for the plate.

“Woah! Slow down buddy, haha.” Leo laughed at the boy's reaction.

Casey giggled back as you sat the plate in his lap. “Tank oo!” He cooed out.

“I’m not done yet,” You laugh. “Brought your favorite drink too! Just don’t tell Uncle Tello I let you have more hehe.” You whisper to him playfully.

“Oo got chocate milk?” His eyes glow with joy.

“Of course they did, Case! You're our best boy and we need to keep you happy don’t we?” Leo answers smoothly.

Your smile grows as Junior excitedly drinks from the bottle while Leo tries to slow the human boy down. Once Casey does stop he starts to greedily shove apples into his mouth. Casey always has a hard time eating slowly since growing up in the apocalypse meant little food and little time. You and Leo, despite some of the others' opinions, encourage him to “play” with his food so he doesn’t eat too fast. By the time the boy shoved the third apple slice into his mouth Leo had already grabbed toothpicks from a portal. 

You helped make little animals out of toothpicks and apple bits. Pretending they were silly or evil little creatures for Casey to take a bite of. It was fun for all parties. Especially when Casey decided he was now a vicious dinosaur. You laugh as Leo makes dramatic noises as the little chomped down on another apple animal.

The fun came to a calming end when Juniour let out a quiet yawn. He tried denying it, but it was too late. Leo had wrapped up the human in his arms and flopped down on the bed. You climb in on the other side and giggle as Casey abandons Leo's arms for your own. 

“How dare?!” Leo gasps loudly. He scoops both you and Casey up and cuddles you both tightly.

You and Junior laugh loudly at him. “Relax, Papanardo. We all know you’re our little boy's favorite, but you have to admit I do give better hugs hehe.” You jokingly tell him.

Gasping once again Leo shouts. “That is so not true I’m the best cuddler and I’ll prove it!” 

Leo grabs a few blankets that were thrown about and places them on top of the three of you. Casey giggles as his face is covered by one of the many covers. You pull the blanket from his face and he scootches closer to you. Leo pulls the two of you impossibly closer and smiles.

Casey coos back at the two of you and whispers out “G’night.”

This morning, Eddie had promised to treat you. He was going to cook your favourite pasta dish for dinner. Cooking was one of his hidden talents, and he adored creating wholesome and hearty meals for you.

But, no sooner as the day began, your partner began to slip. Throughout the months of your relationship, you had learned Eddie's behaviours like the back of your hand. You knew the signs. Silent leg bounces and lip bites were enough of an indicator; before long he would tripping over the carpet, staring doe eyed, unable to navigate through his thoughts or his surroundings, ready to surrender to little space.

Today was no exception, as fifteen minutes ago you set Eddie down on his beanbag with a colouring book, kissing the top of his head softly before venturing into the kitchen to cook the pasta instead. You didn't mind. Your little guy needed a break. After everything he'd been through, you understood he needed time to relax, escape, and lose reality for a little while.

Peeking around the kitchen door, you realised that Eddie had left his beanbag, and crawled towards a fluffy toy that lay in the centre of the floor.

"What you got there?" You asked, intrigued by what the brunette was up too.

"Funnwy noise! Wook!" Eddie responded with glee, gesturing for you to look at his discovery.

Gently plucking the toy out of his fingers, you realised that this belonged to your dog. For Halloween this year, you had purchased a squeaky bat toy for your puppy, and now it seemed little Eddie had taken a liking to it.

"Eds, this belongs to the doggy. I'm sorry bubba, it isn't yours."

You tried to keep your tone quiet and caring, but you could see your partners lip starting to quiver.

"Hey, hey, it's okay little one. Remember, you have soooo many other toys to play with, don't you?" You picked up Eddie's dragon plushie, waving it with a smile.

But Eddie didn't smile back. Tears began to well in his eyes, as he gazed sadly at the dog toy.

"But... I wan the bat..."

"I know sweetie, but I'm so sorry I can't let you have it. It's been in the dogs mouth, and she's probably stepped all over it too." You explained softly, hoping to appease him.

"But.. but.."

Cries escaped his mouth before he could finish his sentence, hiccuping as he tried to supress his small sobs of defeat.

"Oh honey, it's okay, come here" You cooed, opening your arms to hug the little guy.

"NO!" Eddie screamed, turning his back on you, tears streaming down his delicate features.

Your heart shattered. You loved him more than anything in the world, and you wished you could give him everything he ever wanted. But he couldn't have that bat toy. You needed to make this right.

In a brainwave, you quickly opened your phone, typed in some keywords, and punched in your credit card details, before turning your attention back towards Eddie, who was now laying on the floor in adorable protest.

/

The following day wasn't much better. Your little curly haired menace tossed and turned all night, and was now sat sulking in front of the television, his legs tucked into his chest.

You motioned to the bowl of chicken nuggets on the table. "Come on sweetheart, aren't you going to eat your yummy nuggets?"

Shaking his head, Eddie frowned, his eyes fixed on the TV screen.

"Bubba, plea-

Ding Dong

The sound of the doorbell diverted your focus, and you padded over to the door. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the parcel delivery man. You'd been anticipating this package since the moment you ordered it the previous evening.

"Eddieeeeeee" You sang, headed back over to the sofa. "Look what's hereeeee"

Perching next to him, you allowed Eddie to take the small brown box from your hands.

"F-for me?"

"Yes! You can go ahead and open it."

Keeping your fingers crossed, you watched in optimism as your little brunette teared into the paper, to reveal a brand new bat plushie.

Eddie's face lit up, a smile wider than any you'd ever seen from him before. Your heart fluttered, as he threw his arms around you with a childlike force.

"Oh my Gawd! A new bat! Fank you fank you!!" He exclaimed, hugging the bat close to his chest.

You exhaled, cupping your partners chin, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Anything for you, my little bubba."

With a grin, Eddie lay his head on your lap, catching up on the cuddles he had missed over the past 24 hours.

"I wove you, Y/N."