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smuthospital · 7 months

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⭐️Yandere Husband x reader⭐️

Premise: Your husband really wants kids, but you're not really all for the idea

Warning: Noncon, breeding, fem reader

Minors DNI

You prepared a cute little basket with bread, some homemade jam and a couple of sandwiches along with a delicious strawberry cake you baked just for today! You look up at the playground from where you're sitting, the breeze feeling just right. It's a beautiful day out. Kids playing, people walking their dogs, couples like yourself picnicking. You and your husband have been together for three years and married one. He's the sweetest man in the world and you couldn't feel luckier to be with him. Your mother introduced him to you. He was her close friend's son. His mother and yours just so happen to go to the same knitting class. Although his mother was of a higher class, your mother and his had a lot in common and hit it off right away. Your mother would have buried you six feet deep if you refused to see him, not that you would've. He's handsome, sweet and has a well-paying job. Of course, that's the side of him that he allows you to see.

He begged his mom to introduce you after he saw you sitting on your porch one day when he was picking his mother up from your house. You waved at him and smiled. His heart was about to pop out of his chest. Your beauty was nothing he'd ever even imagined before. Everything about you is perfect. Everything. He asked his mother about you as soon as he drove off. She was more than happy to tell him. She's quite fond of you and would choose you as a daughter-in-law over anyone else. She couldn't be happier that her beloved first son has shown interest in a jewel like you.

He couldn't help but fall even deeper in love when he got to meet with you. Your voice rings bells in his heart and your eyes speak to his soul. He knew from then on that you were made for each other. He would never admit it, but he's absolutely obsessed with you. He would prefer to say that he's in love with you. Dating was smooth. He quickly proposed as soon as an appropriate amount of time passed. It couldn't come soon enough to him. You're so sweet and understanding. So thoughtful and intelligent. You share interests and when you don't, you make the effort to try. So does he, of course. You're so perfect.

Once married, he was happy to go to work and come back to your loving embrace. He'd rather die than have you support yourself. Anything you want, anything you need is yours. You don't even have to ask, your husband is very observant. You might mention something in passing that he'll overhear. Something small, something you didn't even put a lot of focus into, but he'll remember. He'll remember and he'll get it for you as soon as possible. He'd do anything...and that means anything. If anyone made you cry, he'd comfort you...before beating them unconscious. Getting his hands dirty is a small price to pay for you. But dear god, if anyone dared to lay a finger on you... well...consider them gone. Consider them erased actually. Consider the fact that they won't be bothering anyone ever again. Consider people closely associated with them being severely injured.

He's a ray of sunshine. You love him and he loves you. He loves you very much. You've never had any serious arguments. The two of you got along so well that there weren't any disagreements, but there were, he'd just fold and let it go. The only problem is that now that you're married, he wants kids, but you're not ready. You've never been very good with kids. They make you anxious. The sticky fingers, their delicate little heads, the fact that they could become psychopaths if you don't raise them properly. Not to mention how expensive and time-consuming they are. You spend all that time and energy on them and get almost nothing in return. Don't even get you started on the effects it'll have on your body.

There's just too much that could go wrong and besides, you just font feel like you're mature enough to have a kid of your own when you still feel like one yourself. You're not ready to raise a human being. There's so much you want to do, want to explore and you can't do that with a baby. Your husband on the other hand is great with them. He's the eldest brother of six so he's used to taking care of kids. At birthday parties, you can find him carrying three kids at a time, one over his shoulders and two in his arms, even the older ones, which doesn't surprise you because he's built big and strong. Must've eaten his vegetables when he was a kid, you snicker, inwardly. Your husband pokes you every time he sees a cute video of a baby on his phone like a boy asking his parents for a puppy. "Just watch! Aren't they cute!? (Yyyy/nnnn)!" He sticks his phone in your face and makes you watch a bunch of videos. He has a severe case of baby fever.

You look over at your fiance. He's looking out at the swing set with a dreamy look on his face. A little boy is pushing his younger sister and they look like they're having a blast. You cringe, knowing your husband is gonna bring up the baby talk again when you get home. Just then, you feel a light tug on your dress and look over to see a little girl around the age of 4, wobbling on her feet, looking up at you. You at least try to be good with kids. "Hey, what are you doing?" You laugh nervously. You know you're in for it now. You can feel your husband's intense gaze on the back of your neck.

"...Mama said that if I'm good, I can have cake. I was good today, so can I have some,...please?" You look up to see a woman face palming and yelling at her daughter to come back and stop bothering the nice lady. You smile at her mother, letting her know it's okay. "Well you asked so very nicely, how can I say no?" You cut a small slice and plate it for her. You give her the plate, but she just looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. "I...I always let Mama feed me," she says as fiddles with her fingers nervously. So adorable. You look up at her mother, who seems to be busy dealing with one of her other kids and decide to give her a break. Although this is breaching your comfort zone, you just can't say no to that face.

You pick up a fork and begin feeding her. You just know your fiance has the most love-struck look on his face, if you were looking at him, you'd be able to see big hearts in his eyes. You peek over at him to see just that and roll your eyes. "Mm so yummy! Thank you miss!" She gets on her tippy toes and kisses you on the cheek. You must admit that was adorable, but your opinion remains firm. No kids. No way. You still have plenty more reasons not to have any so cuteness is not enough to sway you. The little girl waddles away back to her mom. You don't want to turn around. You sigh and look at your husband to see he is still swooning.

"Oh my god! That was beautiful. You be such a good mom!" He coos. You groan. "We talked about this so many times, honey. You know how I feel about kids," you pout, folding your arms. You could've sworn you saw his eyebrow twitch like he was upset. "You'd be great, I believe in you. I just know it," he beams. Oh, he's not mad. Must've been your imagination. You roll your eyes. He didn't listen to a word you said though. You love him so much, but he's a brick wall when it comes to things like this. He's been on your ass quite literally about kids ever since you got married. "I need more time," you say, looking away from his pouting face. He was a bit gloomy for the rest of your outing after that. Last night, you misplaced your birth control pack. You were worried about it, but you just brushed it off and decided to take two the next night when you do find them.

Soon, your picnic comes to an end and you head home. He's on you as soon as you shut the door, kissing you passionately. You return the gesture, hugging him close. "Don't take your birth control tonight," he whispers huskily in your ear. You stop and push his chest. He takes a step back and looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. "We literally just talked about this! Respect that I don't want any dumb kids!" You shout. You expect him to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness like he always does when he's in the wrong. Then he'd go and get you flowers, and cook for you, but this time, he looks down at you rage evident in his expression. He looks really pissed. You shrink in your spot. What?

"You're being ridiculous, (y/n)! It's time for you to grow up! You're old enough to be a responsible mother so stop acting like a child. I can support the both of you easily. You don't have to lift a fucking finger, just have my child already. I've been so fucking patient with you. My mother and yours have been asking us where their grandchild is. What the fuck do I tell them? I'm wondering too! I've been waiting for you to change your mind and be reasonable, but you're really getting on my nerves now," he grits his teeth as he finishes his sentence. Each sentence felt like a stab to your heart. He's never said such cruel words to you or even cruel words in general before. Your husband hasn't so much as insulted you. You never could've imagined your husband had this side to him.

He gripped your arm and began dragging you upstairs. "Hey! S-Stop! Stop it!" You cry, holding onto the stair rail. He looks back at you. That was the last fucking straw. You hear a loud clap and your head turned. Huh? Your cheek stings? Tears begin to well in your eyes as you hold your reddening cheek. He takes the time to pull you the rest of the way up and into the bedroom. He sets you on the bed and locks the door, taking his clothes off right there, his well-built figure casting a shadow over you. You begin sobbing in your place on the bed, covering your face with your hands. He walks over and gently hugs you, rubbing your back. You push at him, but he keeps you still pressed to his body. "Stop that," he whispers in your ear. His voice is commanding yet gentle, but you ignore him and continue fighting his hold. "That's it. I'm so tired of you acting like this. It's time you give me what I deserve, a family." He grips your dress and violently rips it off you, leaving you in your bra and panties. You've had sex before, but never like this. This is the first time your eyes held fear while looking at your husband.

He shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you and trapping you beneath him, smiling. He traces a finger from your collar to the center of your bra, where it stills before ripping it off you. You know better than to scream so you whimper as he throws it to the side. He places a hand over your breast, squeezing it painfully. You grab his wrist, trying to pry it off. "You are gonna be a great mommy. Can't wait to watch these fill up with milk." His face takes on that dreamy look again. "Seeing you today in the park confirmed it. You're more than ready." You feel his cock rubbing your thigh. He yanks your panties down your legs, tossing them into the forgotten corner with his clothes and yours. With his other hand and rubs your pussy. You whine and struggle under him, but you know you're no match for him. He spreads your thighs open and lodges himself between them, his cock rubbing up and down your fold, taunting you. "I love you...so much," he says before slowly entering you. You are NOT having a fucking baby. You'll take your birth control and that'll be that. He smiles down at you, knowing what you're thinking and bucks his hips. He laughs like he knows something you don't, but the idea is completely lost on you.

He bottoms out, moaning as he does. He rubs the bulge in your stomach lovingly. "I want a big family, honey. Make me a daddy. Let me breed you," he says, rutting into you. Even though he's being so rough, it feels so damn good. He picks up your thighs and pressed them down beside your head, squishing your cervix with his cock. Your tongue rolls out your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He kisses your neck and cheeks, giving you soft praise. "I knew you'd be good for me. Such a good little wife and soon to be mommy. You're gonna look so cute stuffed with our baby. God, I fucking love you," he chants as he rams into you again and again, your brain is far too clouded by the feeling of him spearing your guts to understand him.

You dig your nails into his back as continues bruising your poor cervix. You let out a choked whine. "It's ok, honey, you can cum. I'll allow it." As if on command, you do. He kisses your lips passionately, quickening his pace. Moans leave your mouth each time he pounds into you, the air and sound being forced from your lungs each time on impact.

His fists curled in the sheets, his eyes clenching. He slams his hips to yours, your body being forced farther before he grabs your hips and forces you back. He grunts as he cums deep inside you, your stomach filling to the brim with his seed. He sighs and kisses your cheek. You breathe heavily, waiting for him to get off, but he doesn't. He just starts going again like he didn't just fill your guts up.

"W-Whah?" You whine. "I need to make sure my seed takes, darling. We'll be doing this until I say we're done so don't complain now." You can tell by his tone that he's daring you to try something. You just clench your eyes and keep taking him. You're so bloated with cum. He's never been like this before, always stopping when you wanted to and treating you like porcelain. Now he's grabbing you and fucking into you like he's been holding back for years, which you now think he has. Your eyelids begin drooping after the sixth time he forced you to cum. You can't keep them open and he notices. "It's ok, take a nap. Warning, I'm not stopping. I guess I tired you out," he laughs.

You wake up to him hugging your back, spooning you. You look at your alarm clock. It's been hours and judging from the still-wet cum all over your thighs, he only stopped recently. You slowly and very carefully slip out of his hold and off the bed. You feel a soreness like never before in your stomach and almost fall to the floor. Oh god, your uterus. More cum slips out of you as you walk to your vanity. You open a couple of drawers where you think your birth control might be, but it's not there. Where could it be if not in your vanity!? You look around frantically, but you still can't find them! You begin looking everywhere. You check the bathroom cupboard, opening it slowly so it doesn't creak and wake up your crazy husband. It's not in there! You look down to see the crumpled package in the trash. You pick it up to see it empty. Every single slot, even the pink period pills. You begin tearing up as you see there are tiny white specs by the sink. No! He washed them away! How could he!? You clutch the sink as you stare at the empty package. You feel a presence creep up behind you. You look up in the mirror to see your husband right behind you, looking down at you with disdain.

"I knew you were going to take them after I told you not to so I got rid of them last night." He planned this!? "Let's go back to bed...Common," he says tiredly and grabs your arm, forcing you back into bed with him, your back to his chest. You feel his cock harden and you try to inch away, but he grabs your hips and rubs his cock up and down your folds before jamming it inside you until he bottoms out. You whimper with your hands over your mouth, knowing that if you annoyed him while he was tired, you'd get in real trouble. He lazily humps into you, rubbing your bulging tummy from behind you, his lips kissing your head. You pass out later from exhaustion.

You wake up to find him not in bed. You take the chance to get up and throw on a sweatshirt and sweats. You grab your wallet and sprint out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the painful limp he gave you and the soreness in your poor tummy. Your wrist is caught mid-air..." Where the fuck do you think you're going, honey?" He asks, his sweet smile contrasting the bone-crushing grip he has your wrist in.

"O-Oh! Um...we...need-" He cuts you off in the middle of your lie, yanking your wrist and forcing you closer to him. "You were going to go kill our baby." You've never seen such darkness in his eyes. "Well, you can't. I won't allow it. The doors have new locks just for you, love. You're not going anywhere." He smiles down at you, that same handsome face you love, but now come to fear. You gulp as he leads you into the kitchen where he prepared a beautiful breakfast.

You soon accept what's to happen. Your husband is a loved man. Loved by all. His family, your family, his job, the community, everyone. Your husband is often described as charismatic, funny, helpful and friendly. If you told anyone of them what he's done to you, they'd call you a liar without hesitation or even better, take his side, agreeing that it's time you give him a child because it's your duty as his wife to do at least that for him. Be a little grateful for all he does. Providing for you and taking care of you. You'd rather keep your mouth shut. Nothing good can come of telling anyone. It only took a few days of brutal fucking till you woke up early in the morning feeling nauseous and ran to the bathroom, him hot on your tail, ready to hold your hair back as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. You sob as you hug your knees on the bathroom floor. He got on the floor with you, wiping your tears with his thumbs and holding your face. He smiles wide and hugs you tightly. "Yes! (Y/n)! I'm so proud of you! We're having a baby! I love you!"

Yandere husband with pregnant reader head cannons:

- You're allowed out of the house after a while of proving your obedience! Hooray! With the exception that he has to be there, of course. A man flirted with you a bit while you were shopping and your husband was within earshot. You still cringe when you remember the sound the man's nose made as your husband punched him. It took three security guards to get him off the guy.

- Your husband makes you eat so much! "Sit down and finish your food. You're eating for two, remember!? Or did you forget?"

- Paints the baby's room with non-toxic paint and will not let you help or hold anything. "No, it's too dangerous, (Y/n). Sit back down, I've got this, ok?"

- Spares no expense for you and the baby. Buys everything people recommend to him

- Watches youtube videos for things he needs to watch out for during your pregnancy

- Does pregnancy stretches with you and won't take no for an answer. "It's good for you and the baby so get to it! I'll do them with you so we look silly together!" You both still have a fun time.

- You once dropped a book on the floor and your husband burst through the wall to get to you, leaving a cartoon cutout of himself and all. "WHATHAPPENDAREYOUOK!?" He shouted all in one breath. You assured him that you were just fine and that you'd only dropped a book, but he still cradled you in his arms crying.

- Cooks all your meals and cuddles you every single night.

- You being pregnant does not mean he stops fucking you, no. He's just a lot more gentle with you.

- Has everything about your pregnancy and birth planned to the exact detail, even when you'll have the next one.

- He rubs his face against your tummy and kisses it, singing to the baby.

- Do you need to get up? "Here, take my arm...actually...I'll hold you!"

- He picks up the phone on the first ring...and you better too or he's racing home.

#non con #lemon #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere husband #dead dove do not eat

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hannieehaee · 15 days

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18+ / mdi

content: newbf!mingyu, afab reader, first time having sex together, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1714

a/n: not proofread and written within fifteen mins if there's continuity errors no there's not</3

masterlist

"you're such a coward."

"you haven't had sex yet? you!?"

"i can't believe you're pussywhipped but without the pussy."

these were only some of the many insults and quips mingyu's friends had thrown at him in the past month or so since he began dating you.

after grueling months of finding himself stuck in the friendzone (which, admittedly, he knew was simply a social construct created to– anyways), he finally grew the balls to ask you to go on a date with him. that date became two and three and four and very soon after it became an official relationship.

surprisingly to all those who knew mingyu, he was treating this relationship differently than his usual relationships. he believed this to be the real deal, which was something he was quite vocal about. sure, he was young, but he never would've broken up the friendship he had struck up with you at the beginning of the semester if he wasn't sure of how strongly he felt about you. and god, did he feel very strongly about you.

mingyu was unable to pinpoint exactly what it was about you that had driven (and continued to drive) him so crazy. and by this he meant that he could not pick one singular thing about you – there were just far too many things that made you the perfect girl.

so, yes. mingyu did not rush things as he usually did. he also did not treat this relationship casually in any way as he had previously done with former girlfriends. he saw a future with you, which terrified him �� and by association, you terrified him.

that was really the crux of the issue.

his fear of scaring you away or fucking things up led him to feeling paranoid about his every move. was it too much when he sent you good morning messages every day? did it bother you how often he hugged you? did you feel put off by the fact that he had already told his family about you? and then the most worrisome of all ...

was he moving too fast or too slow when it came to your sex life together?

the two of you had shared a few kisses already, with some occasionally growing a bit too steamy for mingyu to consider innocent. however, mingyu always somehow managed to put a stop to it before it went too far, being far too scared of you feeling pressured by him. you never showed any displeasure or annoyance at him pulling away, so he assumed that he was doing the right thing in preventing things from going further.

unbeknownst to mingyu, you were going just as insane as he was, but for entirely different reasons. what he believed to be lack of annoyance or displeasure was actually you putting up a fake front as your boyfriend denied you yet again.

at first it didn't make you feel bad. you understood why he'd want to take things slow. this relationship was perfect in all regards thus far, so taking things slow only made sense. however, after the tenth time of mingyu physically pulling you off his lap and muttering something about his mom calling him, – despite no ringing nor vibrating from his phone – you were starting to feel quite insecure.

you knew mingyu to have had extensive sexual experience before meeting you, so you knew the issue didn't lie in his libido. it must've been a you issue.

did he not want you? was he rethinking the relationship? was it weird for him to transition from friends to more? you were out of answers and simply just frustrated.

unfortunately, a girl could only take so much, leading you to an ultimatum.

you had orchestrated a plan for tonight. if mingyu pushed you away once more, you'd finally confront him about it, and if not, you'd be happily fucked by him. either outcome would leave you satisfied.

"hey, how was schoo- hmph!"

okay, maybe you hadn't truly orchestrated any plan. your planning had begun and ended at the thought of simply jumping mingyu as soon as he opened the door, which was exactly what you did.

his arms wrapped around you, taking him a few moments but ultimately letting himself be consumed by your kiss. surprisingly, he even pressed you up against the door upon closing it after your entrance, large frame taking over your own.

you managed to make him zone out for a good five minutes before he eventually pulled away with a gasp, having barely realized where he had put his hands and what his hips were beginning to do against your own.

"fuck, wait, i- i'm sorry, i shouldnt have-"

"but why not?", you groaned at the interruption. okay, not your greatest moment.

"i, what? i don't want to pressure you. we don't have to-"

"but what if i want it? why would you think i feel pressured when- when i'm the one who keeps throwing herself at you?"

he blinked at you, dumbfounded, "i- you- you want to- to have sex? it's only been a month, i didn't want you to feel like you had to, you know, and it was just easier to pull away before i got too into it. fuck, i'm sorry."

you felt beyond embarrassed by how forward you'd been only to end up at rejection once more. but you felt even more embarrassed at the quick effect mingyu's consideration towards you had on you.

"no, god. you don't have to apologize. i should've asked, i should've-"

"no, baby, stop," he decreased the distance between you once again, "i should've asked you instead of pushing you away. did i make you feel like i didn't want you? fuck, that was the last thing i wanted. i want you. so embarrassingly bad. the guys keep calling me pussywhipped for how much i talk about you, uh, even how much i thirst after you," he finished his short speech with a more bashful tone.

"really?", you giggled, "pussywhipped?"

"baby, don't mock me right now," he groaned.

"no, i just mean ... how can you be pussywhipped if you haven't even had my pussy?", you leaned up and whispered against his lips.

"i- that's what jeonghan said, actually-"

"you wanna think about hannie right now?"

he shook his head dumbly, "no, no, keep talking."

"how about we stop talking and you go back to kissing me?"

he needed no further instruction, locking your lips once more, with even more passion than before. this time around his hands were not shy in their feeling up of your body, nor were his hips in their humping against yours.

things moved quite fast after your short-lived confessions, leading to mingyu carrying you over to the couch and sitting you down on the cushions, lips making their way down your body as his hands undressed you bit by bit.

"you want me pussywhipped, baby? just wait ...", he practically growled when you were finally down to your tank top and panties, licking you through the thin fabric before pushing it to the side and allowing his tongue to plunge in.

"g-gyu ... fuck, just like that ...", you sighed as your hands went down to his hair, pulling at it as he licked into you.

he kissed and licked and sucked until your eyes rolled back and your hips lost control of themselves, grinding into his face with apologetic whines of his name.

"no, baby, keep going. you can grind on my face, pretty. use me however you want," he mumbled as he kissed at your upper thighs, head burying itself back in hour cunt immediately after.

"tastes so fucking good, baby. prettiest fucking cunt ... can't believe i waited so long to have this tasty pussy," he groaned between licks.

mingyu was insatiable in the way he ate you out, moaning against you as if he were the receiver of the pleasure. his hands aided your hips in grinding against his face, creating a rhythm that followed his own. this was how he got you to your high embarrassingly quick, encouraging your cries of his name with his own groans of delight into your cunt.

it took you a few moments to catch your breath, feeling completely exhausted at the way in which mingyu had quite literally snatched your soul along with your orgasm. in the meantime, mingyu got up and undressed himself, leaving his boxers and your tank top as the only articles of clothing remaining. you took care of that issue yourself, throwing off your top as you stared up at him while he stood in front of you, cock almost at eye level with you.

making grabby hands at him, you dragged him down, allowing him to lay you down and hover over you on the couch, cock immediately humping against your cunt while his lips found a home on your tits.

his constant praise of your body and cunt was quite colorful, making you feel far too affected by his words and feeding into his compliments.

"you're the prettiest thing. do you even know how badly i've wanted you? it was so hard holding back every time you'd kiss me," he pouted whilst repositioning himself, pushing his boxers down his legs, "always wanted to just lose myself in you and never come back."

"baby, can i?", he asked once his cock was free and lining up against your swollen cunt. a simple nod was all it took for him to finally push his way inside, groaning into your neck at the feeling.

the intrusion felt delicious, making you throw your head back in utmost pleasure and cry his name in a way that had him mumbling something about how you must've wanted him to cum immediately.

finding your g spot almost immediately, mingyu took full advantage, gripping your thighs tightly in order to ensure hitting that spot until he had you dragging your nails down his back.

"are you almost there, baby? fuck, need you to cum with me, angel, okay?", he murmured into your ear, speed of his hips losing all finesse.

"i'm there, g-gyu. just ... my clit? please?", you pleaded.

mingyu made the grave mistake of listening to your pleas, hand coming down to rub at your clit without realizing the tightness of your cunt would only destroy him even further. but despite that, mingyu persisted in his task to make you cum, bringing you to your high just moments before claiming his own.

he settled against you on the couch once you were finished, pecking your lips softly before nuzzling against you.

"are you pussywhipped yet?", you asked as you turned to cuddle into his chest.

"oh, baby, so damn pussywhipped its embarrassing."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen #svt #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #mingyu smut #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagine #mingyu x reader #mingyu oneshot #mingyu fanfic

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months

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DPxDC fanfic idea: The Back Roads

Bruce was driving around as his civilian self one late afternoon. The sun was barely setting, though one wouldn't be able to tell with all the smot.

He was planning on surprising his children with a spontaneous pizza party and some good family-friendly competition. He was excited.

Maybe it was because he was checking on the pile of pizza in the back, or maybe he was more tired than usual from his long nights as Batman, but whatever the case was he did not see the boy until he hit him.

Bruce swears the boy appears out of nowhere like a ghost. One moment, there was a long road with nothing but trees and his softy playing radio.

Bruce has always loved the long secluded roads that lead to his Manor. It always gave him peace of mind to enjoy a drive without anything or anyone around. Rarely did he ever encounter another driver out here - not since the Drakes moved out.

That's why someone standing in the middle of the road had come so unexpectedly. Bruce hadn't even noticed him until his headlights saw a brief flash of blue eyes just as it was too late.

The boy slammed against his hood, flying into the windshield and sliding off to the side. There was a terrible gagging sound, likely the boy checking on his blood as slid away to the ground.

Bruce slammed his brakes, sitting frozen behind the steering wheel. For a moment, all he could do was sit there in horror, wondering if it was true. Then reality crashes in, and he pushes the car door open, falling out in hysteria.

There on the ground is a boy that could be fourteen crumbled. A boy with dark black hair and - if the wide eye stare before the hit was any indication - blue eyes. He looks a lot like his sons.

Bruce feels sick.

Desperately, he rings up an ambulance, chocking on tears as he tells the dispatcher what happened. Bruce, meanwhile, does his best to check the boy over with his training.

He slowly turns him over, pressing his fingers on the neck as gentle as possible. There is a cold moment before he feels a aodt flutter against hia finger tips.

A heart beat but one that was slowing by the second.

Bruce tells the dispatcher this, who in turns tells him as soothing as possible that help is on the way, but Bruce knows the boy doesn't have enough time.

With shaking fingers, he presses the Bat Distress signal. His children are only ten minutes away in vehicles that can get to the hospital in thirty minutes. The ambulance will arrive in that same amount of time.

"It's going to be okay" He tells the still boy. "You're going to be okay. Please. Please. Be okay"

Nightwing pulls up then in the Batmobile with Robin in the passage seat. Red Robin, Spoiler and Red Hood are not far behind on thier bikes.

They all stop for a few seconds, unsure what to do, before Nightwing shakes himself out of it. "Mr. Wayne we got it from here"

Bruce is only half aware of Damian taking his hand and moving him away as Tim and Dick get the boy into the Batmobile. They speed away to the hospital.

What a terrible night for Alfred to be out.

Later, the cops speak to Bruce and use the dash cam to confirm that the boy really did appear out of nowhere. He's a meta, they say. Likely one that just got his powers.

Teleportation. Or Invisibility.

They weren't sure, but they would figure it out. They told Bruce he was free to go, and there was no need for Bruce Wayne to know further of the case.

Batman, however, was back there that night. He was outraged to find out the boy had been flagged for his meta genes, and some nurse low on cash knew there was a market for meta children.

She was attempting to move the unconscious youth through false discharge papers when Bruce landed on the hood of the car of her associates. They were quickly dealt with, turned over to the police-the good ones- and Batman had made arrangements for the boy to be taken in by Bruce Wayne himself until he awoke.

While that was happening, the attempts to locate the youth's family yielded results. He wasn't in the system himself, but he did match to a brother that was.

A week later, Danny Fenton opens his eyes from the best nap he's had in years, only to find out he was run over while in a ghost version of hibernation and in a different world.

Oh, and apparently, he is being confused as a twin brother of some guy named Tim Drake.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny dimension jumped while sleep walking #He is fine #confused by the twin and new rich himbo dad #Bruce is not having a good day

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soullessdianthus · 10 months

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𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐱 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠)

Summary: During the mission somewhere in Austria, König takes an interest in TF 141 medic. Little did he know, she's Lieutenants Riley's girlfriend.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

A/N: Possessive/Protective boyfriend Ghost? Yes, double and give to the next person. Also inserted Hank/Connor "lieutenant" reference, I just find it funny. Y/C ━ Your Codename (have fun, pick something babes) Poorly translated German ━ correct me if needed!

Warnings: nothing, reader is eastern european coded (we deserve more recognition as reader inserts ꃋᴖꃋ )

Word count: 1.8k

The tree line of the thick forest melted into the base of the rocky mountains. Your gaze traveled across its pointy shapes and up higher - there hadn’t been a single cloud on the sky that day, causing a slight heatwave.

You let your body slightly wag as the car passed over surface bumps on the earthen road. The dry lump grew in your throat as the dust hovered all over the convoy and all you could think of was a sip of cold, mineral water.

Soon, you reached the small town in Austria, secluded from the ring roads. The cars were parked near the surrounding forest at the entrance of the village. Lieutenant Riley's sight crossed with yours as he helped you get out of the truck.

He could be such a gentleman sometimes.

A handful of soldiers gathered near the vehicles - some of them wearing a KorTac patch on their shoulders, the other ones (from your unit) a Task Force 141 badge. But besides those sigils, none of them were wearing full battle gear.

There was no active fighting against the enemy at the moment. It was just a careful chase after the terrorists - following their footsteps, interviewing associates, gathering proof. Because at the end of the day, the military (or army related organization) cannot shed blood over a defamation.

But KorTac and TF 141? Quite an unusual partnership between the two groups, right?

━ Ghost, Y/C you’re goin’ with me ━ Captain Price announced, adjusting his hat as he closed the car’s doors behind him. ━ Gaz, you’ll stay here, is that clear?

Captain heard a firm ‘yes, sir’ from your teammate Kyle who was to stay at the parking spot. Meanwhile the KorTac colonel gave an order to his soldiers in German. “Such a tough language” you thought to yourself. Only two of his people went along the wood road with the rest of you.

The Colonel.

Exceptionally tall, Austrian man who served many years for his country. The one you found yourself in on the latest mission.

Each time you wanted to look at him while Colonel König was speaking, you had to chin up. And even though, a black hood with a red paint on it covered his whole face besides his cold, blue eyes. He was lowkey intimidating with his massive size, but just like your captain, the Austrian’s rough looks didn’t reflect his character. At least to you and your comrades he was quite nice.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t say the same about his teammates.

You didn’t have to walk for long as the isolated, one floor house emerged behind a hill. By the quick peek at that building and the noises coming from the inside you knew, it felt like a warm home.

As you approached the building, you heard a child’s cry.

Price knocked at the front door and soon after a man with dark bags under his eyes opened them slightly. He was peeking through the crack.

━ Jakob Hausner? ━ The Captain asked with a playful smile under his mustache, his thumbs interlocked with the gear straps over his chest.

━ Ja, wie kann ich helfen? [ger.: Yes, how can I help?]

━ Can you ask him if he speaks english? ━ John looked over his shoulder towards König, asking for a favor.

━ Yes, I speak english ━ master of the house answered with a thick accent, before colonel could translate. ━ What do you want?

He wasn’t trusting at all, well, how could he? You were all strangers at his doorsteps, two of your partners wearing scary looking masks. But it all had a purpose - they were supposed to look… intimidating, yes?

A loud wailing made their ears hurt, it was that damn baby again. Jakob sighed loudly, his shoulder collapsing as he opened the doors a little bit more.

━ We just want to talk about the company you were working for. ━ Price continued talking.

━ About them again? ━ Mr. Hausner frowned his eyebrows and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Poor man was exhausted apparently. ━ Okay, okay, ja, come in.

The man let you all inside, however König told his soldiers to have a look outside the plot - to make sure it’s safe here and you’re not being watched. Poor Jakob wasn’t even fully aware (because of his state) that he let in a group of military people inside of his home.

As soon as you crossed the hallway into the dining room with a big, wooden table, you noticed a struggling toddler in a children’s chair. The girl was crying, her face red from the tantrum.

━ I’m sorry, it’s just my daughter, she… she doesn’t want to eat her–. Lina, bitte. [ger.: Lina, please.]

Being a parent. Must be tough, huh?

Not when you were forced to babysit your siblings or cousins since you were a teenager.

━ She’s not hungry. ━ You noticed the way the little girl pushed her plate away and how she tried to climb out of the seat. Christ, that man really had to be exhausted. ━ Can I?

You took a few slow and calm steps towards the sitting child - a warm smile painted over your face. Even your boyfriend Ghost was slightly… surprised? Seeing you drop the apathetic shell, then becoming more warm and gentle towards the little girl.

━ She’s our medic ━ your Captain explained to the worried father ━ let her take the kid and we’ll have a talk. In peace.

Mr. Hausner let you take care of his unsettled daughter, so they could have a conversation about his former employers. You took the girl out of her chair and placed her over your left hip, pushing it outward.

━ Come, Lina ━ you addressed the girl by her name, even though she probably couldn’t understand what you were saying ━ let’s leave the stinky men alone, ja?

You left the dining room and entered the seemingly endless garden behind the house. Since you took that girl in your hands she already began to calm down, perhaps a woman's touch was all she needed?

“Where was your mother? Was she at work working a long shift? Did something happen to her? Did the bad men–” your thoughts seemed to take a rather pessimistic route, so you had to quickly change it.

You didn’t know much German. Well, you didn’t know any at all.

Fuck.

But at that moment you were thanking the heavens that your father watched movies about Hans Kloss or war on a regular basis. You were happy that your father was taught some phrases and somewhere in your subconsciousness he passed them to you.

You sat on the wooden bench somewhere in the garden not far from the building. Then, you placed the child on your lap and began talking to her - mostly in your mother tongue. Then you added some words in German that you knew, like:

━ Schau, schmetterling! [ger.: Look, a butterfly!]

Soon you grew more comfortable around the girl named Lina, even though there was a language barrier. Without your knowledge, your legs began to bounce her, pretending she was riding a horse.

If anyone would point that out later, you would certainly deny it. You, getting soft for a child? No, no, no.

You were so occupied with entertaining her that you didn’t even notice a looming, black figure in the corner of your eye. Watching the scene from somewhere nearby.

König was standing just next to the doors, leaving against the white plaster on the outside walls. He listened to your attempts to speak German, finding it… adorable?

Never did he meet a woman in his profession so empathetic and gentle. Especially the one who managed to catch his attention. Let’s be honest, most of them were cold blood murderers and he was a colonel - he couldn’t let himself have such a luxury of having a family.

Until now.

His imagination began to play a nasty and stupid trick on him - just because he saw you speaking German with a kid. What if it was you to take care of his children? Were your hands usually this delicate? Would you care for him as much?

The tall soldier was intrigued by you and his dreamy stare exposed him for it.

━ Don’t even think about it. ━ Ghost voice snapped him back to the reality. The British soldier emerged from the building the same way the colonel did after the conversation came to an end with Mr. Hausner.

Simon Riley wasn’t a fool. He noticed all the little peaks at his girlfriend other soldiers usually would take, she was in fact a pretty thing. So it didn’t take much to notice that the tall guy from KorTac took a liking of you. Too much liking in Ghost’s opinion.

━ Verzeihung [ger.: Excuse me] ━ König apologized, flustered slightly by obviousness of the situation. He instantly understood the reference. ━ didn’t know she was… taken.

━ Yeah ━ British lieutenant scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His dark irises didn’t even dare to stare at him. His eyes were on you ━ she’s very much taken.

There was a dead silence between the two of them - for a short moment, before Ghost gave you a heads up.

━ Y/C, we’re moving.

The rough and firm tone of Ghost’s voice made you snap back into reality. You were in the middle of something, right? Yet, you almost jumped on that little bench painted in floral patterns.

━ Coming, lieutenant. ━ You declared quickly, before putting the little girl over your hip again and heading inside of her home.

Ghost was a few steps ahead and so you had to pass the massive figure of König to go inside again. You pressed the child’s head into your cleavage as she was a little scared of colonel’s hood.

Well, you would be too, if you saw his cold stare in the middle of the night from under that veil, right?

━ Don’t worry, he just looks scary. He won’t bite. Isn’t that right, sir? ━ You sent him a polite smile as you tried to comfort the petrified girl. Your hand caressing her golden locks.

But he was speechless at the moment. He couldn’t form a simple sentence. A fucking grown ass man. “So fucking pathetic”, he thought to himself. Your lips twisting into a wide smile for him. It wouldn’t be easy for him to erase that sight from his memory. König would have trouble falling asleep that night, thinking of you.

A/N: ♪ Two big guys and they grab on my thighs ♪

#reader insert #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #konig #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader #konig x reader

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hypnos333 · 3 months

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Helloooo! I saw that your requests were open for Hazbin- how about a reader who's a seraphim? Kind of Lucifer's protégé/child way before the creation of Eden, Adam, and Lilith.

And he just kind of left them up there alone and neglected because of her association/kind of Dad!Lucifer. So, it's kind of angsty seeing as how Lucifer was a better Dad to Charlie and the reader grew with envy and fell into that ring along with her brother (I've been seeing hc/rumor a lot) Cain.

What would happen their first meeting again? If this is too much I don't really mind so no worries! Have a nice day and thanks for reading!!

A/N: I’m sorry but I go by biblical too so this might be different but same concept and storyish

Like father like daughter

Lucifer x daughter Reader

Synopsis: Your dad left you young now you left him

How it started

You are my Sunshine My only sunshine

You make me happy When skies are grey

Little you giggles at your father’s little song for you and only you. You were an angel whose mother was long gone leaving just you and your father. You made grabby hands towards him making his heart melt before lift you up.

“Boop” you cutely said as you boop his nose making him chuckle. “Boop” he said back making you giggle this time.

“Okay baby it’s time for me to go to work so Uncle Castiel is gonna watch you okay baby?” He asked you making you nod happily before rushing to your uncles arms.

You never knew that was the last time you would see him and with that you cried and cried for your dad until Sera and the other Angels showed you he forgot about you, he had a wife and daughter….

You watched as he singed the same lyrics he sang to you to her. You were only 5 and parentless watching your father abandon you but staying for another that his. That’s when you grew up odd with another angel. You were evil or as they say a bad apple.

You were Cain’s secret friend encouraging him to kill his brother Abel. That when you were sent down in hell where your dad is but you never cared to look for him finding some friends of your own.

You were older and more mature then her but she was the youngest, and you were the oldest. Does that mean you had to made the sacrifice to be left?

Even so it hurts and your growing hate towards your father and sister grew stronger by the centuries.

With Lucifer though he was trying everywhere to find you, You were no where to seen in heaven and no where on earth so you must be in hell. But even then he couldn’t find you.

You grew close to Cain when he came to hell after being full of pride and thinking he could live without God and with his punishment. You saw him as a brother the only family you considered. You were never gonna be ready to let your other family in your life and you meant that.

When you were both getting ice cream You heard something. “___!” you turned around to see lucifer huffing and puffing finally catching up to you.

“My Sunshine! Woah have you grown into a-” you punched him in the face. You the eldest of Lucifer punched him in the face and my god it felt great to do. Your unbelievable smile widen as you saw his pain. Call it fucked up as you will but you almost laugh on how pathetic he was and to believe you looked up you him.

“Don’t… Don’t call me that. I thought we both grew out of that nickname a long time ago” You mumbled before turning away from him having nothing else to say.

“___ I was trying to protect you! Don’t you understand I was going to come back for you. I-“COME BACK TO ME? NOW THATS BULLSHIT “DAD” BECAUSE SPENDING TIME WITH YOUR OTHER BORN WAS NOT LOOKING FOR ME” You interrupted him turning into your full demon form Lucifer looked at you in shocked and stunned.

“I was 5 waiting for my own father to come home” You stated calmly as Lucifer looked at you with tears in his eyes.

“Please give me another chance, I love you too much to let you go” He pleaded taking you hand but you yanked it straight away.

“You gonna know how it feels to let go of the person you” You growled before walking away from him.

“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please…. Don’t take my sunshine away” He prayed as tears slipped down his eyes reaching out to you knowing your already far from him. knowing he lost his firstborn hurt

“Daddy! teach me how to dance!” A little you say as Lucifer looked up as a little you held your hand towards him he tried to reached but then you just faded. That little girl was long gone the moment he didn’t take you with him.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x you

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43qh · 1 month

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talk for a minute? (m)

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, yearning, self-doubt, rejection

word count: 4.6k

summary: your own vows to not associate with anyone your last year in college all comes crashing down the second quinn hughes enters your life.

you made vows.

vows to yourself, at least. you’ll focus on studies, graduate with honors this coming year, no distractions. you made fucking vows. so when a man named quinn hughes has sudden interest in your loneliness, you scowl. your snarls and distaste in his presence hasn’t made him go away. not yet, at least.

quinn randomly popped into your life when he sat across you in your campus library. his eyes gleamed a pretty color you didn’t want to discover too deeply. you raised an eyebrow at the time, not sure why a man was sitting across from you, no books in hand. you didn’t know quinn back then. quite frankly, you didn’t know many people. you were a loner, if you will. you hated the term, though. you just chose your studies over friendships.

people could call you a prune all they want, it never deterred you. at least you’d graduate with your head held high.

so, when quinn approached you that day with a glimmering “hi”, you scowled. and he would try every day for the past three weeks trying to get something different, but it never worked. but he never stopped approaching you. never stopped pursuing you.

when quinn doesn’t show up at his usual time, you’re a little muddled in your seat. quinn made it a point to be punctual in your ‘meet ups’. so, when he comes an hour late, you scrunch your eyebrows at him.

he clears his throat a bit, trying to remain quiet in the library, “hi.”

you almost scowl in his face, but your demeanor was falling apart in front of his eyes. you sit still, “you’re late.”

quinn’s eyebrows raise, but he can’t stop the smile errupting on his face, “you noticed?”

you scoff, looking back at your books. he wanted you to notice. he wanted you to react. he craved it.

quinn rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, “if you’re wondering where i was-”

“i wasn’t.” you snark.

“-i had to call my mother. we do this monthly thing where she checks in on me.”

quinn being a mommy’s boy made you want to smile. you didn’t know much about quinn. you knew he played hockey, had two brothers, had lots of friends, and you knew girls flocked at him. quinn wasn’t bad looking. maybe he knew he was a looker, who knows. but knowing he was also a mama’s boy, added to your short list of what you knew about quinn. it was almost charming.

if only you didn’t have a reputation to uphold.

you don’t even nod in acknowledgment to his words about the call with his mother. you don’t look up, you don’t stop typing on your laptop. and quinn just sits like usual, in silence. you’re not sure what game he’s playing at, but you’re not sure you’re going to like it, whatever it is.

you didn’t even know the man’s name before he approached you, and now you know more than you’d like to. it made you scoff in your head.

only in his wet dreams will he get a chance to talk to you.

you hate this.

you hate that quinn’s silence was starting to become a comfortable daily routine. you hated that you were starting to anticipate his entrance. you hated the coil in your stomach when he approached you after giving a familiar handshake to one of his friends.

you hate him.

he’s a nuisance. always in the way when you’re trying to concentrate. in all reality, you could probably find another place and spot to study. but you knowingly chose not to. and that’s really what kills you. you were tormenting yourself on purpose.

you were hating him on purpose.

“hi,” his familiar voice rings in your ears as you take notes.

you want to say ‘hi’ back. you want to greet him properly, let him into your world. you want to become apart of his world, maybe. your mind wins over your heart, though.

you stay silent, not daring to look up in fear that you’ll crack. quinn never pushes you for conversation. he simply sits quietly until you’re done with your studies for the evening. maybe that’s what drew you towards him. he was patient, never really, truly invading your space. quinn just sat in your bubble, silently scrolling through his phone. he doesn’t even strike up conversations, he just sits there.

is this infatuation?

were you really wanting to break vows for a man you barely knew?

you lick your lips, eyes flickering towards him for only a second, maybe even less than that. he was handsome, from what you gathered. he dressed nicely, his clothes neat and not a wrinkle in place. your nostrils flare as you get a small whiff of his cologne from where he sat. earthy and light.

he looked a bit too good to be true.

you sigh softly, eyes focused on your paper in front of you. your exams are close, and you can feel the anxiety start to creep up.

you were so consumed by quinn for the past few minutes that you were slightly behind on your preferred schedule. you frown, making sure to bury your nose deep into your notes.

you weren’t sure, but you swore you could see a soft smirk on quinn’s lips out of the corner of your eye.

your resolve was disappearing.

quinn’s hair was wet, dressed in a loose sweater and sweatpants. his hands grip his phone a bit too tight. he greets you with a grunt, unusual to his chipper tone. it sent a shock down your spine. were you supposed to react that way to a frustrated man?

you sigh, trying your best to concentrate, but something was clearly bothering quinn as his brows furrowed in anger. your heart was aching for him.

god, you were aching for him.

as the weeks pass, doubt clouds your mind. what if this was a game to get you to talk? what if he just wanted what every other man wanted? what if he was playing with you?

all doubt leaves your mind for the moment when you notice the slouch in his posture.

“you okay?” you ask with a meek voice. it wasn’t like you to appear shy, someone with less resolve than what they’re credited for. but quinn breaks all your rules.

quinn looks up at you with a raised brow, “you’re asking?” his tone was playful.

you wanted to scoff and turn back to your books, but your body reacts quicker than your mind. “yeah.” you breathe. you sound out of breath, looking at him with a shy glint that almost drives him a bit crazy.

you were just so precious to him.

quinn didn’t see you as shy, quite the opposite actually. but seeing you fall apart just talking to him? he couldn’t help the fact that it boosted his ego. you were kind of known for blowing people off. so, when you asked about his well-being, he felt like he had to get on his knees for you.

not that he’d admit it.

“lost a game,” quinn tilts his head at you. watching your every move like you were bound to cower away any minute.

you nod, adverting eyes just for a split second before you’re greeted with a smirk on his lips. you twist in your seat a bit, “you’re smirking.”

“how am i supposed to stay composed?” he questions, leaning closer so his chest presses against the desk separating the two of you, elbows on the table, fingers interlocked after putting his phone down, “you’re just so cute when concerned.”

you puff your cheeks out, looking away from him completely. you wanted to brush off his compliment like you do with everyone else. you wanted to dig your nose in your books. you wanted to even possibly disappear.

at some point, you lose track of time. you’re not sure how long the two of you have been sitting in that awkward silence while you collect yourself. you’re not sure how long quinn has been looking at you.

you just know it’s longer than you would have liked.

“you’re conceited to think i was concerned,” you look at your laptop, not really bothering with your notes anymore, just simply looking away from quinn.

“so, you’re not?” he asks, leaning his head on his hand now.

you scoff, “you wish i was.”

“so what if i do?” he raises an eyebrow, “you barely know how to even look at me. i think it’d be a privilege to be cared by you.”

you squirm a bit in your seat, “what gives you that privilege then?”

quinn shrugs his shoulders, “only you know that.” he pauses, leaning back in his seat as he continues observing you, “but i’d be more than willing to get it, work hard for it. i know you’re a hard worker, how about letting me take over the hard work?”

you lick your lips, his words sounding more suggestive than you’d like them to. it sounds appealing to you. “work for it, then, i guess.”

quinn’s mouth sparkles in an infamous smile that makes your stomach flip, “giving me permission?”

you look at him finally, studying the way he looks at you. like you’re a challenge he’s not willing to give up on so easily.

“only for you.”

quinn doesn’t want to seem to ecstatic at your words, but he also hates the idea of you thinking he’s ungrateful. truth is, he’s more than ecstatic. he’s fucking off the wall happy. when those words slipped past your beautiful lips, he could hear birds start singing, he swears.

as the days pass, he slowly learns a little more about you. he can see how frightened you are. he can sense that a part of you hates this. hates the idea of him knowing you more than anyone else but yourself. he knows you’re guarded.

quinn doesn’t let it distract or deter him, though. he just patiently and slowly gets to know you more and more. he finally knows your favorite color, your favorite fruit, your favorite sweet. basic stuff that would normally bore someone, but in quinn’s reality, anything you give him is like gold. he even starts wearing your favorite color more often.

you notice the effort, and you can’t say you’re not affected by it. the closer you get to quinn, the more scared you get. but, also, the more curious you get. you would be lying if you said you weren’t interested in quinn, as well.

for all you knew, you could be signing up for your own downfall. but so could he.

maybe quinn wasn’t out to get you.

you sighed, sitting on your dorm bed. your roommate had gone out like she usually does, leaving you alone in the room. your thoughts start to bounce a bit, drifting towards quinn, against your better judgement.

as you’re about to lay down after showering and changing into something comfortable, you hear a knock. you scrunch your eyebrows, wondering if your roommate forgot her key. when you open the door and are instantly greeted with a big smile from such a gruff man, you feel shock down to your feet.

“how are you here?” your voice was incredulous, looking at quinn with big eyes.

“walked,” he shrugged, licking his lips with a smirk on his face.

“no, i mean,” you roll your eyes, “how do you know my dorm?”

“your roommate told me.” he looks at you, “saw her walking down the hallway, and she said that if i was looking for you, you were here.”

of course she did. your roommate didn’t exactly disrespect your boundaries, but she definitely did want you to get out there more. she was kind and more extroverted than you’d ever be. you figured at some point she would catch on to the fact that quinn was around you. it’s not like she never caught the two of you at the library talking.

you huff, “so you thought it was okay to come here?”

quinn shrugs, “thought maybe we were getting closer.”

you bite your lip, and quinn’s eyes travel downwards on instinct. oh how he wished he could just kiss you. he had been thinking about it for awhile. a lot longer than he’d like to admit.

“i guess,” you finally answer, looking into his eyes with vulnerability and uncertainty. he so desperately wanted to wash away all your doubts. especially the one’s about yourself.

“gonna let me in?” he quirks an eyebrow, expecting you to scoff in his face and shut the door on him. but you do the opposite, stepping aside and nodding your head.

“my roommate will be gone for awhile.” you state as he steps inside with cautious steps. you could feel the tension increase the second the door closes.

quinn’s eyes looked concerned, “are you sure this is okay with you? i mean i-”

you nod, stepping closer to him, “yeah, i don’t mind.”

you wanted to say how much you hated the way you could smell his specific cologne and soap. you wanted to say how much you hated how close the two of you were. you wanted to say how much you hated how badly you wanted to kiss him.

but all the hate burns into something different. a beautiful pit in your stomach that makes you step even closer to him.

quinn tenses up at your advances, looking at the way your night shorts rose higher along your thighs. seeing the way your shirt dipped. it made him visibly gulp. you were a sight for sore eyes, and he was afraid he would lose control if you continued your advances.

you could feel his breath fan your face in anxious waves, making you smile to yourself at just how nervous he actually gets around you. he had a strong, flirtatious resolve. just like you had a strong, reserved resolve. maybe the two of you weren’t too different, afterall.

you stand still, and the room goes quiet. you don’t move any further, waiting and anticipating quinn’s next move in action. it all felt slow-motion. something out of a movie, maybe.

quinn slowly raises a hand to your cheek, and you lean into his touch. he let’s out a breath of relief, your eyes connecting. it felt like the world stopped spinning for him. like he was looking straight into the eyes of an angel.

he could feel your skin start to burn at his touch, and he wanted to touch you everywhere after that. he wanted to break, fall apart into your arms and take what you give to him. take what you allow.

god, maybe he was falling in love.

“lost for words, hughes?” your face was still cradled into his hand, and he swallows.

he’s breathless, “i think so.”

your smile ignites something within him.

you were burning a fire within him that he couldn’t contain.

“don’t speak, then.” you say, eyes glimmering in the soft shade of your lamp in your dorm.

he can’t stop himself from leaning to close the gap between the two of you. he stops just before your lips touch, looking for approval. he sees the way your eyes flutter close, and he takes it as a sign to softly press his lips to yours.

quinn fears for his life the second your lips touch. he fears he will never get enough of this. little does he know that when you reach up to place your hand in his hair, you’re thinking the same thing.

your lips move slowly, languidly. it’s like the two of you want to embrace the moment as it is. something just as simple as a kiss, but just as complex as a blossoming relationship.

quinn has careful hand placements, staying on your face while the other is lightly tugging you closer by your back. you have a hand in his hair still, your other placed respectfully on his chest.

it’s a kiss you never imagined having. a kiss you never thought you wanted until this very moment. your whole world shifts on its axel and you become consumed by the way his beard brushes against you, the way his lips capture yours in a sweetness like honey.

you were trapped in quinn’s hold.

quinn was trapped in yours.

“how can you just say no?” quinn’s eyebrows furrow in frustration. he feels a slight sense of danger in the pit of his stomach when you turn to look at him.

“i don’t date, i don’t do dates. i can’t date.” you shook your head, scowling as you continue your walk towards your dorm. you felt like you were in some kind of romance show, and you hated it.

“says who?” quinn asks, following your trail like a puppy. he isn’t very subtle about how eager he has been to get to know you more as the days passed since you kissed. quinn became slowly more and more affectionate, throwing you off and messing with your head.

you purse your lips before responding, “says me.”

“so, you’re just going to reject me? for what reason?” quinn couldn’t understand you. he thought the two of you were genuinely getting closer. that he finally had a shot with you, especially after such a kiss that still sends tingles down his spine.

you’re almost at your door before quinn gently grabs your hand, making you stop in your tracks at the touch. he wasn’t pulling you towards him, no force involved in the act. it was all just pure instinct on your behalf on why you stopped.

you close your eyes and sigh before turning to look at him, “i need to make sure i graduate with honors, quinn. i made vows that i wouldn’t get involved with anyone, not even friends.”

“why? what good does that do?” quinn’s hand is cold against your own, “you’re doing so well. i’ve seen how hard you work, nobody can take that away from you. especially not me, i don’t even want to. i just want to..” he pauses, looking around as his cheeks turn a pretty pink, “i just want to be with… you.”

you want that too.

and your eyes soften at all the effort he has put in to getting to know you. to getting past all the doubts and walls you built up. no one has ever made the effort to know you as well as he does, and you’re not sure you’ll ever find that again if you let him walk away.

the idea of him no longer pursuing you and wanting you makes your heart ache. you wished you could hate it, but in all reality, you knew you wanted to keep pursuing and wanting him, too.

you were so used to being left alone before quinn arrived.

now you couldn’t imagine a day where quinn wasn’t there.

so, with strength, you grip his hand back. your warm hand surprises him when he feels your reassuring squeeze. he swears he could fall to his knees, kiss the ground you walk on. instead, he opts for kissing you.

it’s so rushed, emotions taking over as he grips your waist as if you’ll disappear. guilt washes over you when you realize that he does fear you’ll disappear. that you’ll walk away the second he stops kissing you.

you inhibitions are thrown out the window when quinn grabs your hand again, guiding you towards your dorm. you let out a soft laugh at his eagerness when he pulls the keys out of your jeans pocket to open the door. he sighs the second he realizes your roommate isn’t there, so fucking relieved.

he turns to kiss you again when he hears you shut your door, going back to how it had been just a few second ago. he was eager, so eager. he couldn’t help the way his hands trailed beneath your shirt and beneath your bra to cup your breast. he feels the gasp you let out between kisses, making him groan as he pinches your nipple just a couple times before pulling back.

you look disheveled, and he was so honored to be the reason why. when you approach him, he steps back. you frown, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“strip.” his words are demanding as he sits at the foot of your bed. he leans back, hands resting on your mattress. you swallow down your pride, quickly making rid of your shirt and bra. “all of it.”

his tone was husky, making you clench your legs together before following even more of his demands. it was like he had hold on you. he watched with hungry eyes, trailing all across your body as your lacy panties fall down with your jeans, leaving you vulnerable and left in nothing but socks.

he hums in appreciation before beckoning you towards him, and you don’t dare refuse. “i’m a bit underdressed here.” you whisper, and quinn chuckles a bit. he tugs at the seam of his shirt, pulling it over his head. he makes quick work of the buttons on his jeans and his boxers follow suit. you gasp a bit at the sudden action, adverting your eyes from his cock as it sprung up against his stomach.

quinn smirks to himself when he notices how shy you really, truly are. he grabs at your hand to bring you back to reality, your eyes meet, and it takes everything in him not to devour you completely. how could someone with such a strong head, have such a beautiful doe eyed expression when vulnerable?

“there you go, baby.” the nickname consumes you, swallowing you whole. your ears are ringing as you walk closer to him, feeling the soft pull of his hand to tug you towards him. “you’re gorgeous.”

he sounds breathless, like he’s seen nothing like it before. like it’s his first time seeing someone naked. it’s not, but you’re definitely the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in that very moment.

you make way to straddle him, and he hums in happiness, a smile spreading across his features. “want this cock, sweetheart?” he tilts to look at you, holding your face in one of his hands so you don’t look away.

you lick your lips, eyes glossy as they stay connected with his, “yes.”

quinn smiles, placing a soft kiss to your lips before flipping the two of you over. you let out a soft sound at the sudden change of scenery, him hovering over you with a determined look in his eye.

quinn reaches down, feeling just how soaked you are. “oh?” he perches an eyebrow up, slipping his fingers through your folds, “so wet already, could slide right in.”

“please,” your voice is meek, small but still breaking through the tension just enough to gather quinn’s attention. it honestly drives him crazy.

quinn groans, “wanted to tease you a bit more,” he says in defeat as he begins to line his cock up with your tight entrance, “but it’ll have to wait another time. really need to fuck you. been needing it for weeks.”

his confession makes the stretch he causes all the more pleasurable when he finally pushes in. you were so tight, making him stop the second he bottoms out. he really couldn’t handle cumming too fast right now.

your sounds are symphonies. he listens to every single one, making sure to pack them away for days he needed release and thought of you. he can feel the way you’re gripping so tightly onto his shoulders, almost like you’re trying to ground yourself.

everything about this moment was electrifying.

quinn kisses your temple, “gonna move, okay?” he waits for your eager little nod before he continues. he’s slow at first, groaning at the tight pull your pussy gives him. “you feel like a fucking dream.” his voice is coarse, struggling to keep composure.

you buck your hips up, “more. need more.”

he can’t stop himself now. not when your voice comes out in whiny little gasps. not when you’re rolling your hips up to feel even more of him. no, not when you’re allowing him to have you.

you gasp when he picks up speed, eyes rolling back as he hits a spot inside you that has you wrapping your legs around his torso. quinn observes all of your reactions, making note of where to thrust, how hard, how fast. and it all feels too good.

he can feel your fingers digging into his shoulders, your moans becoming increasingly louder with each thrust of his hips. it was all so magnetic, so natural between the two of you. nothing felt awkward as he fucked you.

when you start to feel a tug in your lower belly, you tug on his hair, “quinn..” you gasp, opening your eyes and seeing the sweat starting to form on his forehead. “fuck, i’m-”

“i know, can feel you clenching, baby.” quinn picks up his pace, more eager than before to see you cum for him. “cum on my cock, know you want to. need to see you, need to feel you.”

you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the flutter of your cunt around his dick. you cum with a small squeak, moans falling out of your mouth relentlessly. it wasn’t like anything you’ve felt before. your own release triggers quinn’s, he really couldn’t help it with how tight your pussy clung to him and how beautiful you looked cumming for him.

he swears this was his heaven.

he needed you forever.

your labored breathing brought him back to reality as you slowly released your hold on him. he’s quick to grab tissues from your bedside and clean you up.

“uh,” quinn says awkwardly, staring at you after throwing away the tissues, “do you have a shower?” you smile to yourself before nodding, admiring the way he now looks less territorial, and more soft. he nods back before helping you up. “let’s shower, then.”

you don’t argue.

this seemed to be the end of fighting your feelings for quinn hughes.

“i passed!” you exclaim, rushing towards your boyfriend as he makes quick work to catch you in a tight hug. “i did it, quinn!” your smile was so radiant, something he could never stop admiring.

quinn kisses your cheek, “of course you did, baby. i always knew you could.”

you look at him with excited eyes, “they’re all almost perfect scores, quinn.”

quinn nods, a smile adorning his beautiful features, “you’ve always had it in you.” he pauses before smirking, “see? i didn’t distract you too much.”

you scoff, wrapping your arms up around his neck, “you would’ve if i let you.”

quinn shrugs, knowing you were right.

when quinn approached you, you had to battle all your internal battles with yourself. you had to put down your vows for him, and still hold true to your word about graduating with honors. quinn frightened you, but it was in the best way possible.

quinn fought for you when you didn’t want to be fought for. at least, that’s what you thought. you didn’t know you needed someone like quinn hughes in your life before he showed up and turned your world upside down.

it’s such a cliché, it almost makes you sick.

but, for now, you’ll ignore it.

you lean up to kiss your now boyfriend, quinn hughes.

if you had never decided to talk that day in the library, you were sure you wouldn’t be so elated right now.

all it took, was to just talk.

talk just for a minute.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes scenario #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl smut #nhl fluff #nhl angst

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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months

Text

Monsoon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

10.1k wc

Synopsis: Four years after Toji Fushiguro died, Satoru decided to give his widow a visit

(Warnings: age difference (nothing underaged), dark content, AFAB reader, pregnancy kink, non con, overstimulation, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, rough sex)

It was raining when Gojo Satoru entered your flat.

Not particularly harshly, but more than enough for a scare. You weren't in the mood for visitors; the rain made you drowsy, and it was coincidentally your one day off. You wanted to lean against the window and watch the droplets fall against the pavement with a warm blanket. You did not want to exchange pleasantries with some kid.

The only reason you didn't slam the door in his face was because he said your husband's name.

It was why you were bringing tea to someone who clearly couldn't care less about it as he lounged on the sofa. You sat on the other end, staring at the scuffed coffee table. Out of anxiety, you play with the ring wrapped around your finger.

"...He's dead?"

It's a question, but you already know the answer. Gojo doesn't even bother to reply, humming, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid. You still stare at the coffee table. It's slightly crooked. One of the legs was broken. Toji promised he'd fix it.

That was four years ago. You hadn't seen him since.

You should have expected this. You knew the kind of man Toji was even before he stuck that flimsy ring on your finger. The kinds of people he hung out with. The suspicious amounts of money he would shower you with. There would have never been a happy end for the two of you.

You can still feel your throat close up, bile rise from your belly. You can't do anything but watch the old table you never threw out because he promised he'd come back and fix it.

The only reason you close your eyes, sucked in a tight breath, was because you still had a guest over. One that clearly wouldn't care about your crocodile tears.

You've never seen someone his age so apathetic before. That temperament was associated with the people of your generation. The people who've already been in the workforce, who carried stress on their backs and hips. You can't see his eyes, but the slouch in his posture is indicative enough. Maybe all kids his age were like this. Uncaring, indifferent, subtly disrespectful.

Because he was a kid. It didn't matter how tall he was, how much bigger than you he was. A single look was all you needed to know that this boy was at least a decade younger than you. Unkept white hair, sunglasses despite the weather, a cocky smile, a voice oozing with misplaced confidence.

You don't acknowledge it; it's clear he didn't come here just to tell you your husband is dead.

"How old's your kid? Eight?" Gojo tilts his head. "You gotta' know what that means, right?"

You do. Even if you weren't steeped into the world your husband willfully left, you know enough. You know how important your son is.

It's why you stop Gojo before he can make his offer. You've already heard this before, a week ago when men with Zenin as their last names knocked on your door.

"Thank you for your concern," you tell him as calmly and respectfully as you can. For the first time, the man straightens up, as if your answer wasn't what he expected. You can sense he isn't used to being told no.

You keep your smile neutral, pleasant, final.

"But we're fine as we are."

Moments later, when he's about to leave, you offer an umbrella, insistent on him taking it. It was raining after all. He takes it with him without any protest.

You don't notice that, despite the downpour, he was perfectly dry when he stepped into your home.

☔︎︎

Megumi was always special.

Every mother thinks that for their child. You're no exception. As soon as he was born, tiny in your arms, swaddled in blankets, something shifted within you. You'd always wanted children, but the concrete feeling of your child in your arms when he's so vulnerable. You'd never felt anything more right.

To you, Megumi was always special. But when Megumi turned 5, he became special to the entire world.

Toji was never tight-lipped about the world he came from. Shamans, sorcerers, shikigami, curses. You weren't an expert, but you certainly knew more than the average person. He'd often tell you things, when he was drunk, pulling you against his bare chest, underneath cheap blankets. You always heard the bitterness in his voice. That world had rejected him. It would reject anyone who wasn't special enough. Special people were rare.

It's why you were convinced Megumi would never have to deal with any of that. His father wasn't a sorcerer, neither were you. He'd live a normal life and would only be special to you.

"It's on your other shoulder."

You switched hands, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. Like always, you couldn't feel anything. There was no weight on your skin, nothing tangible that you could grab and toss. There was just this small feeling of dread. A small ache in your bones.

He waves a tiny hand. Instantly, the feeling of dread is gone. The ache lifts and you roll your shoulders.

"Thank you," you tell him with a strained, but grateful smile. He nods, turning back to his food.

"You're getting more, now," he simply says.

"Haha, sorry," you reply instinctively because even though he's eight, you feel like you've burdened him.

"It's okay," he mutters, quiet as always. His gaze flicks back up at you, before glancing back down. He takes a second to gnaw on his lip.

"Are...are you okay?"

You're being so obvious even your own son could see it.

Your smile feels more forced as you placate him with the usual lie of 'Mommy's just tired, long day at work'. He doesn't buy it, but he doesn't say anything back. He's so much like his father in these moments. Truthfully, you didn't think Megumi got a single thing from you. His black hair is Toji's, his blue eyes are Toji's, his pale skin is Toji's, and even his forever-present scowl is your late husband's. You supposed that should have been the first sign: Megumi would be anything but normal.

You hadn't told him about the visits. You're his parent, you had justified to yourself. He's a child. He doesn't need to know about the visits. Especially, considering you decided for him. Megumi would be raised out of the jujutsu world, away from curses, and sorcerers.

You can't have your son taken away from you like his father was.

('Special Grade', Gojo had told you. A powerful cursed spirit. You hadn't gotten closure until you let him in. No body was ever recovered.)

You can't let your son end up like that.

But was this the right life for him? You watch as Megumi's gaze trails up, like he's tracing the movement of a fly or something bigger that you would never see.

You can't relate to Megumi. You don't have cursed energy. You can't see the things he can. As much as you loved him, you'd never be able to understand what he is. None of his classmates can. None of his teachers. It sounds lonely. Isolating.

Only a handful of people that could ever give Megumi that connection exist. And they're willing to accept him with open arms.

He had been an older man, flanked by another. They eyed your home with relative disgust; you, with mild derision. It'd been their words that echo in your head today. How much happier Megumi would be surrounded by his own kind. How the clan would welcome him and teach him to hone his technique.

They were words that would sate the parent of a lonely boy, but you couldn't help but remember the disregard in his voice. Their words made Megumi sound like a tool, instead of a child.

The offer of payment for your son was enough to turn them away.

Was Gojo Satoru any better? From your brief encounter, you couldn't tell. There was always a smile on his lips whenever he talked about Megumi's future and Jujutsu Tech. The lilt of his voice felt fake, artificial. But at least he didn't ask to outright buy your son.

When Megumi's tucked into bed, you pace around the living room. You glance at the slip of paper he'd left behind. The scrawl of numbers in neat handwriting. The thing he slipped into your unsuspecting hand. You've had a glass of wine before, maybe that's why your hands are a little more steady when you punch in the numbers.

He picks up after the second ring. It oddly feels like he was waiting for your call.

"Can jujutsu sorcerers live normal lives?"

There's a laugh on the other end. Light. Amused.

"No," his response is cold, even when his tone isn't, "Even if they leave the jujutsu world, they will never have normal lives."

The answer you were afraid of, but you weren't surprised. Special people rarely live normal lives. You knew what this meant: trying to protect Megumi from his father's fate would be pointless. No matter how far you run, no matter how far you take him, it will never be enough.

"Does it really matter, then?" you ask, "who Megumi goes with."

"In that sense, no, not really," his voice crackles back, "But I think you've already made your decision."

You had days ago. You were just wasting time, picking up the phone only to drop it just as quickly. As much as you'd wanted to keep your son away from the jujutsu world, you knew, even before they knocked on your door, it was a failed endeavor. Megumi was special. Megumi was too special for you to hide. He shone too brightly.

The Zenin clan would extinguish that. You knew it. Toji knew it too. It's why he took on your name.

It's silent again. You bite your lip. You've been doing that a lot lately.

"Gojo, may I ask a favor?" He gives a hum.

"Please, don't tell him about Toji."

There's a beat of silence. The line clicks.

Two days later, Megumi meets the strongest sorcerer of the modern era.

☔︎

There was always something clinical about Megumi's and Gojo's relationship.

You wouldn't call them father-son, let alone brotherly. It was strictly student and teacher. From the start, it was clear Megumi wasn't impressed with the sorcerer. His scowl would somehow get deeper whenever the young man was around.

Gojo didn't seem all that impressed either. He wasn't as blatant, but you could sense that it was a chore for him, rather than anything else. You don't think you can blame him. He's barely twenty. He should be doing other things. Living his youth, and continuing his education.

Gojo grew up too fast. You can see it in his face. He's never not smiling, but it's never truly sincere. It's not clinical either. It looks exhausted. You wonder-if he wasn't wearing those glasses all the time-if you'd see dark circles.

He's too young to be running around this much. He's too young to carry the entire world of jujutsu sorcery on his back. He's too young to be an educator. A mentor.

Yet he is. Yet he does. All with a smile on his face.

You're less intense nowadays to him. When Megumi comes home, clearly a bit more roughed up than when he left, you criticize Gojo less harshly. When you make lunch for Megumi, you ask if he'd like anything as well. Gojo has a bigger sweet tooth than your eight-year-old son does. You never nag him for it.

The change doesn't fully happen until that fateful conversation. It's an offhanded remark he makes about him not being there to train Megumi for a few weeks because of a mission.

"A curse?" you ask, as if they aren't all around you.

Gojo grins because you've discovered he likes talking. "Reports are coming down from Sendai. The running bet currently is special grade."

You frown. "Oh. Well, be careful."

He freezes at that. You think he's staring at you, but you're not too sure. His glasses give away nothing. Your fingers dance with nerves. Had you said something wrong?

"What?"

You tilt your head. "Oh! Uh, 'be careful'. Stay safe." You end your sentence awkwardly.

Eventually, Gojo recovers. "Yeah. Well, obviously." He smiles.

You watch him leave, keeping your eye on him until he disappears into the sleek black car.

It doesn't occur to you until much later that Gojo probably hasn't had someone worry about him before.

☔︎︎

Whenever Megumi's training continues much later in the evenings, you go to the Gojo estate to pick him up yourself.

It's a grand house. Practically a mansion. You've never felt so embarrassed about your humble apartment until you saw the lavishness Satoru lived in. A part of you is now even more impressed by Megumi's stubbornness. Children are the first to fall for the affluent.

It's big, but you've never quite gotten over how empty it looks. Every time you visit, there's always just Satoru. You haven't seen his mom, his dad, any siblings. It looks like a family home, but he's the only one who's ever there.

He's never mentioned any family. You wonder what happened to them. Where they are now.

Somedays, you arrive a bit earlier than needed. During that time, you tend to stroll through the gardens. They're so beautiful. Large and expansive. They're empty, however, just like that grand house. No flowers. Not even weeds. It's just a bunch of dirt and stones, plainly stacked on top of each other. It disappoints you a bit. The grounds had so much potential.

"Whatcha' got for me this time?" You jump, whirling around. Satoru is right behind you, a teasing grin on his face.

You give him a disapproving look, though it lacks any real heat. "I told you to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Though he may be twenty, he acts like he's younger than your son. Speaking of your child:

"Where's Megumi?" You prod, glancing behind Satoru, as though your grumpy child would pop up behind him. No such thing happens. Satoru's incriminating smile grows wider.

"Homework," he cryptically replies, "also, he didn't want to disturb us adults having our grown-up conversations."

"Of course he did," is all you say, but you acquiesce regardless, digging through your bag.

You've always been taught to bring something when visiting another person's home. You found it rude not to, despite how casual Satoru acts around you. You discovered he liked sweets the most, so you have tried your best to satisfy his sweet tooth. He seems happy with whatever you give him. One thing you like about Satoru is how he cherishes all the gifts he's received from you without any complaint. You spotted the umbrella you'd given him all those weeks ago, sitting right by the door. He'd never given it back. You'd never asked for it.

You try to ignore the feeling that the only reason he gets excited about your gifts is that it's rare for him to receive anything at all. Satoru doesn't need to be pitied.

It's nothing too big, just a bag of saltwater taffy from an Americanized store. He's already ripping the package open, pulling one out of the wrapper to stick it in his mouth.

You blink when he extends his hand, another piece of candy between his fingers.

"Say 'ah'!"

"Oh no, I'm fine. They're for you—" Satoru interrupts you by popping the piece right in your mouth. Your lips instinctively close.

"Oh." You say after you taste the sweet. "Peppermint."

He laughs, taking another one out for himself. You follow him through the abandoned gardens.

"So, how's Megumi's-"

"Nuh-uh," Satoru immediately stops you, "enough about work. Let's talk about something else!"

You roll your eyes, but your smile is too affectionate. You ask him about his latest trip overseas. He tells you about the country he visited, the curse he exorcised, practically giddy from excitement. Conversation starts there before moving onto other things, small talk, your job.

"It's a shame the gardens are so empty," you say when the conversation reaches a lull.

He stares at the bare patches of dirt with you. "When I was younger, the gardeners would take care of 'em for us. Flowers would bloom every spring."

You feel him recoil. Satoru does that sometimes. Say something too intimate, hissing when it's too late to take them back. For his sake, you don't comment on it.

"It must have looked beautiful." Is all you respond. Understanding, but closed enough to give him relief.

You stand there in silence for a couple of seconds. In the dirt, you can see a tiny ant carrying a grain of sand.

"Roleplay time!" Satoru suddenly exclaims. You whirl your head to look at him. "Imagine you become the great Gojo Satoru." You stifle a laugh at that. His grin only gets wider. "What kind of flowers would you choose?"

Toji always thought bouquets were stupid. 'There's no point' he'd always say 'the weeds will just die anyway, why you somethin' like that?'. But sometimes, he'd bring home these tiny, golden flowers. Simple. Pretty. He'd tuck it behind your ear, grinning at his work. You'd kiss him in return.

"Marigolds," you say at last.

Satoru only hums in response. A few seconds later, he's leading you out of the garden, rambling about how expensive sushi was overseas.

A few days later, you see men with barrels of soil, combing through the garden.

A week after, tiny golden flowers start poking through the dirt. Simple. Pretty.

☔︎︎

You had that same dream again. The day Toji left.

It's rare to have these dreams. They wouldn't leave you alone the first year he'd disappeared. Back when you thought he'd gotten bored of you and your son, like he'd finally decided he was sick of the family life.

They come back sporadically, nowadays. You can't sleep after you have them, so you often find yourself curled up in the living room, looking at the window. It was raining. Heavy droplets thud on the glass. The violence seems desperate somehow. Like the weather is begging to be let in, to snuggle underneath the warm blankets too.

On nights like this, it's a habit to stare at the tiny golden band on your finger. You slip it off, holding it in your palm. It's nothing extravagant—tiny with a simple design—but it's the last thing you have of him. Toji was never that sentimental.

It's not really a dream. Dreams are more whimsical, cloudy. You can remember everything, down to the outfit he'd been wearing, the fly that had been buzzing around your door. It was like you were there all over again, begging him not to go.

"You promised you'd stop."

"This is different," Toji said and you flinched when he tucks away his gun. You thought he'd gotten rid of it.

"The money?" You're pressing, "we have enough money, you-"

"This isn't about fuckin' cash," his voice cuts through you, sharper than any blade he carried.

"It's somethin' else. Somethin' you wouldn't understand. It goes beyond money."

Your gaze lowers, curling your fists on the table. You can't understand, not when he refuses to tell you. Not when he barely explains why he's going back to his old ways in the first place.

Sensing he's upset you, Toji sighs. You can hear him place something down on the dining table, metallic and clanky. Calloused, rough fingers brush your cheek, your jaw, coaxing you to look at him. You don't, forcing him to lean forward, giving a chaste kiss on your cheek. His lips are rough, cracked, but overwhelmingly gentle on your skin.

"I love you," Toji mutters into your skin.

You don't respond. You wish you had, you wish you'd gotten over your pride and told him because maybe then he'd still be here with you. He's giving another sigh, tucking your hair into place before he's leaving. He closes the door behind him.

That day, you told yourself you wouldn't forgive him. Whenever he came back, you'd tell him you were done. You'd take Megumi and you'd leave.

Now, you think you would have forgiven him. Eventually. It would have taken a while, a lot more than measly flowers and apologies. But, if he had come back, you would have let him back into your heart.

"Couldn't sleep?" you ask.

Megumi blinks his eyes. It's past his bedtime, but you aren't going to nag him for it. You place the cup of steaming tea down on the coffee table, clicking your tongue when it wobbles. Right, four years later and you still hadn't fixed it,

"The rain was too loud." He gives.

Wordlessly, you invite him into the cocoon you'd nestled yourself into. The sofa sinks under his weight as he settles next to you, leaning against your side. You tuck the warm blanket around his tiny body. He's still small enough to fully wrap your arm around him, bringing him even closer. You take advantage of it. You don't know how much time you have until he's too big to cuddle with anymore.

His breaths are even and slow. He's a boy of few words, but even you think he's asleep until he's mumbling something into your ear.

"I hate him."

You give a confused hum, leaning down, resting your head on top of his. The coffee table looks even more uneven at this angle. It burns to even look at, these days.

"He makes you cry, even when he's not around anymore."

You laugh at that. It's a quiet huff. When you glance down, you think you spot a faint smile on the boy's lips. He’s so much like his fathers, in the little things. You don’t think you will ever tell Megumi that. You don’t think he’ll take that observation well.

"I wasn't crying.” You tell him. “I was just thinking.”

He doesn't give a response after that. A few minutes later when you look down again, his eyes are closed, and he's drooling against your shoulder. You laugh again before gently gathering your son in your arms and settling him down to bed.

The next day, you notice the monstrous amount of duct tape wrapped around the leg of the coffee table. When you ask Megumi about it, he just shrugs, his ears twinging a bright red.

You throw the coffee table away. It's replaced by a new one the following week.

☔︎︎

Satoru didn't like talking about Toji.

You only tried prying once or twice. He was tight-lipped about it. Not quite cold, but he'd shut the conversation down quickly, more than eager to talk about something else. You missed it the first few times, but it became clear that Satoru disdained even the mention of your late husband. You can't tell if it's whether Satoru admired Toji enough that the mere mention of his name sends him into grief, or if it's something a lot more complicated.

Now that you think of it, you barely even knew the relationship Gojo had with Toji. Had they been close? Was he just an acquaintance? Satoru had always been so cryptic about it.

Toji hadn't.

"He's called the strongest man?" you ask, amusement twinged in your voice, "I thought he was 12."

"They don't care about age when giving titles," Toji replied.

You were leaning onto his shoulder, watching your son sleep in his crib. Only three months old and he had this permanent frown on his face, as if he was already sick of the world. 'He already acts like you' you once told your husband. He'd scoffed, but he didn't disagree.

"That's a little funny," you find yourself saying. "What, can he lift a car? Does he benchpress 200?"

Toji doesn't find the image of a child casually lifting 150lb weights as funny. He only grunts, drawing you closer.

"I met him once," he says after a beat of silence, "back when he was barely older than a toddler."

"Hm?" you prodded, still mesmerized by a sleeping Megumi, "what'd you think?"

"Power," Toji responds, "more power than I'd ever have."

You tear your gaze away from your son, glancing at your husband. Toji's eyes were looking somewhere, farther than you could see. It's the envy in his voice that you can't help but keep. A mere child already has everything Toji could ever want. Strength, a name, honor.

You should have realized then that Toji would never belong to you. Not truly. His heart, whether or not he swore up and down otherwise, would always belong to the Jujujtsu world. It's a tragedy. Someplace that he always longed for acceptance, will never truly see him. Even when he died for it.

Satoru will probably never answer your questions about Toji, but perhaps you could get close.

"Why did you do it?"

It was after dinner. Satoru had dropped your son off, and you had practically dragged the white-haired man inside with you, sitting him down on the dining table. He'd complained, but you know he secretly liked being coddled. He didn't deny the second helpings, nor the thirds. Sometimes you wondered if he was a man or a black hole.

Megumi had already gone to bed, and you supposed he had enough of Satoru for one day. It left you and him in the kitchen, putting away the dishes. Rather, you put away the dishes, and Satoru watched. Not that you minded. It was nice to have company.

"Hm?" He was typing away at his phone, blearily turning back to look at you. You couldn't get why he didn't just go home if he was so uninterested.

"Why did you interfere when the Zenin came?" You repeat your question, putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher.

Looking back, things could have gone much differently for you. For your son. You didn't realize how much power the Zenin clan had back then. Had Satoru not stepped in, had you kept rejecting them, you honestly wonder what sorts of drastic measures men like them would take for the sake of power.

"Are you upset?" He asks, tilting his head.

"Of course not." You smile. You were grateful for Satoru, you always have been. He's helped your family out in more ways than you could imagine. After all he's helped Megumi with, there was nothing Satoru could do to get you mad at him, hate him, not truly.

"I was just wondering. It's not like you had an obligation to."

You close the dishwasher with a soft click. The machine starts with a soft hum. He doesn't reply, not for a long while, when you look up, you see him staring back at you. His sunglasses were off, folded, tucked under his collar.

"Clans are bullshit." You're surprised by the venom in his voice. There's a cinch in his jaw. You wonder how many years his hatred has been festering like this.

"The entire Jujujstu world is, honestly. But clans are the worst of all. The hierarchy. Traditions. All dogshit. They'd gobble the kid and spit him back out. I-I didn't want him-" He stops with a hiss, like he'd said too much.

This time, you don't let him run away.

"...you didn't want him to end up like you." You finish.

It clicks, fits together like a jigsaw piece. The Gojo name had ruined Satoru, turned him into something he was too young to be. The name forced him to grow up faster, stronger. The name forced him to be isolated, lonely.

That conversation with Toji curls up inside of you. Back then, you'd only empathized with Toji's pain, but what about Satoru's pain? What about the amount of expectations that had been piled on top of a 12-year-old boy? What about the responsibilities he's forced to carry, each weight growing heavier and heavier but he can't break because he is Gojo?

Satoru stands before you, but you can easily picture him as Megumi. Tiny, small Megumi who didn't speak much but whose heart was bigger than anyone you knew. He could end up like Satoru. Standing at the top of the mountain. All powerful. All alone.

You don't want Megumi to be alone.

You don't want Satoru to be alone.

"Satoru." You step forward. "Could...could I give you a hug?"

He doesn't respond. You step closer. No barrier.

When you wrap your arms around him, you think you can feel him tremble. It takes a moment for him to catch up, for his arms to drape across your back. You clutch onto him tighter, silently promising not to let go until he does.

He doesn't, not for a long while.

☔︎︎

Satoru had a mission on his twenty-second birthday. So, you celebrate five days after he turns twenty-two.

"Again," you say for the nth time, "If-if you have other plans, or anything else, I don't have to stay-"

"Will you stop it, already," Satoru interrupts, "You're gonna make me depressed. I already told you, I got no other plans."

"Well," you frown, "if you change your mind, and you'd rather spend time with your friends..."

"What other friends? You're the only one I got."

You frown at that. He smiles, barely lingering on his loneliness. He does that a lot lately, brush it off. Perhaps it's become easier to. Perhaps it's because you're here now.

The sun had already set on the Gojo estate. The stars were already out. Typically, you would have been antsy staying too late over, especially when Megumi was still home, but your son was a few cities over. He was training with another sorcerer, his new mentor stating that your son wouldn't be back for a couple more days.

Wait, now that you think of it.

"Satoru," you say, your voice heavy with disapproval, "Did you send Megumi off purely because it was your birthday?”

He grins wider, showing off his pearly whites. "No idea what you’re talking about."

You frown harder. He clicks his tongue in distaste.

"It's not like the kid would wanna come celebrate anyway, and now you can focus on me! Two birds one stone." He flops on the couch.

"Satoru."

"Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake!" Satoru chants, as if that'll distract you.

Unfortunately, it does. You roll your eyes, but you lean down, pulling out the pastry out of the bag. It's nothing special, and you do not consider yourself an expert in baking. It certainly isn't fancy, but you were still a little proud. Simple, a small chocolate cake, perfect for two.

Satoru stares.

"I know it isn't much-"

"I love it," he says and you can't tell if he's joking or not, "I'm gonna make it a family heirloom."

You laugh at that. It shakes your shoulders.

"I don't think cakes are built to last that long. How about you just eat it, instead."

"Much better plan," Satoru responds, grabbing a fork, eager to dig in.

He yelps when you slap his hand away as you give him a stern look. You touched his skin. You try not to linger at that, at the fact that he let you touch him.

"Not now," you say, but you still smile, "you need to blow out the candles first."

He huffs but doesn't protest when you stick two candles into the soft frosting. It takes a while to work the old lighter; you have to shoo him away when he tries to snatch it from you. You force Satoru to sit there for at least a minute as you sing the dreadful happy birthday song. He doesn't seem to mind, a mean grin growing on his face, letting you finish up the lyrics.

Toji was mortified every time you managed to stick a birthday hat onto him, dragging him to the living room for his cake. He'd hold his infant son in his arms, his frown even less amused. Even then, he never interrupted the stupid tradition you put him through. He'd sit through the entire ceremony, Megumi asleep on his chest. A scowl would twitch on his lips whenever you managed to smear a dab of frosting on his nose.

You clap when Satoru blows out the candles.

"What did you wish for?" You ask minutes later, swallowing down a bite of frosting. He was already on his third piece. You know you should tell him to slow down but you don't think it will do much.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," Satoru responds, his tone light.

"That's a myth," you point out, "but keep your secrets if you must."

You set your plate down when Satoru speaks the next time.

"I wished for us to do this again."

His voice is shallow, echoing throughout the empty house. You look at him, his white hair, his pink lips, his blue eyes. Everything that encompasses Gojo Satoru is focused entirely on you.

"That next year, we'll celebrate the exact same way."

He sounded so small, as though he were younger than 22. Perhaps, a part of him was. A gentle smile spreads on your face.

"Of course we will," you assure, before your voice gets teasing, "the next year, the year after that, and the next year until you get sick of me." You laugh. He doesn't laugh back. It's silent again, the kind of quiet that's full and meaningful. Distantly, you hear a clock ticking somewhere. It's a nice night. Peaceful. God, you were so tired from all the stressing you did for the cake. Satoru wanted to watch a movie after the cake cutting, but you wonder if he'll forgive you if you fell asleep during the film. You were exhausted.

That's why it takes you a second to register his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft, and patient. His mouth moves slowly against yours. You can taste the chocolate. It takes a second to understand what Satoru was doing that he wasn't Toji before your hands are moving, reaching up to his shoulders, keeping him there as you shy away, breaking the kiss. You two stay like that for a few more moments, still touching. You can hear your breath, feel your heartbeat. A little while later, he moves closer, intent on following your mouth, before your brain kicks in and you're shutting him down, standing up.

Satoru blinks up at you, the realization of rejection sinking into his eyes before you stumble over yourself to apologize because, dear god, you should have seen this coming.

"I'm so sorry, Satoru," your voice is coming out in clumps, "I never meant to... I always thought...I'm a decade older than you."

The ocean eyes crystalize, turning into cold tanzanite. You're too muddled with guilt and self-hatred to notice. Of course, Satoru would take things the wrong way. Of course, he'd misunderstand. You always thought he was wise for his age, but he's still in his early twenties. You should have been better and made your boundaries known. God, you were so stupid.

"So?" he asks, but his voice lacks the usual snark. "Who cares how old you are?"

You resist the urge to say something accidentally condescending. 'You'll understand when you're older' stings in the back of your tongue, and you wonder if it's fair to say considering how you acted when you were younger than Satoru-- when Toji was an older man who found you amusing enough for dinner and a warm bed.

It's different now. You were older, wiser. Toji had been a mistake. A mistake you miss every day.

"Of course, you don't," you say, and despite it all, a laugh fumbles out your throat. Shaky, delirious. "Again, I'm so sorry. It's entirely my fault-I-I should have communicated things better."

"Why does any of that matter?." It's his turn to stand up, and it makes everything so much worse because Satoru's taller than you. "It doesn't, not to me. I lo-"

"Stop."

It's not a yell, but it's the harshest tone you've ever used on him. Still, it's enough for his breath to falter, to give you a moment of reprieve because the only other person who said that to you and meant it died six years ago. You touch the cold metal of your ring. You twist it around your finger. When Satoru's eyes gaze down, following your movements, you force yourself to stop self-soothing.

The ticking of the clock starts back up again. You want to smash it.

"I should go."

You already know it's a bad idea. You shouldn't leave Satoru alone. You should stay, sort things out, mend his heart, but you're human. You want to run, sort yourself out first. You want to take the cowards' way out. Satoru doesn't stop you. You can't bear to look at him, not when it's so much to even be here. Your mind is already being thrown into disarray and you're barely remembering to grab your purse.

Your hands rest on the door when you pause. You don't bother turning around. You know he's already looking at you.

"Happy birthday, Satoru."

For some reason, you cry the entire ride home.

☔︎︎

Surprisingly, it's Megumi who asks about it.

It'd been a week since you'd last spoken to Satoru. Communication stills, and stops completely. It goes both ways, he doesn't randomly pop by anymore, scaring the daylights out of you. You no longer buy strange-sounding sweets because you know you won't be seeing him later. One week ago, Satoru was there. The next, he wasn't.

"Has he said sorry yet?"

You jolt up, staring at your son. Megumi is still glowering at the vegetables you'd put on his plate. At this point, you know he doesn't hate the food. He just always looks like that.

"What?"

"He obviously did something to you." He mutters. "Did he at least say sorry?"

No matter how uninterested your son always portrayed himself as, he was very observant. Of course, he would. As much as you loved Megumi, you wish he'd be just 10 percent less attentive.

You force yourself to laugh anyway. "Satoru didn't do anything." You assure. "What makes you say that?"

"The idiot's been sulking all week," Megumi responds, "everyone's been wondering what's up with him."

You give him a disapproving look, but you doubt it did anything. Instead, you glance down, mindlessly poking at your plate.

"Don't call him that," you say softly.

Megumi only shrugs. Despite everything, you still have this strange urge to defend Satoru, if only to save your own dignity of fighting with someone 10 years younger than you.

"Nothing happened. It-it was a misunderstanding, that's all." You hope your smile doesn't look uncertain. He's only ten, but he's already so perceptive. You don't think it's enough to convince him. Your smile drops. You roll your shoulders.

Another thing you should have seen coming. Of course, Megumi would notice. Despite how annoyed Megumi acts around him, there's still a sort of bond between the two boys. A connection between two sorcerers, something you will never have with your son. You were wrong about your initial assessment about their relationship. They were much closer than you thought. Satoru cared about Megumi, as did Megumi about Satoru. Your souring relationship with Satoru might break that. .

Your actions have consequences. To everyone, not just yourself.

"I'll talk to him soon about it, I promise." As if to placate him further, you reach over, patting his hair. He frowns deeper but doesn't make a move to shove you off.

To your chagrin, soon comes later that evening. Satoru breaks the ice first with a single text.

you free tomorrow

It's nothing like him. No emoticons. No exclamation marks. You say yes, regardless. The next evening, you step out of the taxi, thanking the driver before stepping onto the Gojo property.

It was raining, barely a drizzle, not enough to make you want to bring an umbrella. Still, the air was chilly, just enough so that you clutched the coat covering your body tighter. You carefully avoid the puddles adorning the sidewalk.

You agreed to come here, but it's hard to keep that in mind as you climb the patio steps. You stand in front of the door for an entire minute, counting each second, before you knock.

"Finally! Took you long enough."

It's hard to look at him. Already, your gaze threatens to waver. You force yourself not to wrap your arms around your sides. For once, you're glad he wears those sunglasses of his.

Satoru, on the other hand, barely looks affected by the encounter. He's dressed well, in a white collared shirt and black pants. He smiles cheerily, widening the door so you can step inside. You thank him when he wordlessly mentions for your coat.

Your eyes catch the living room, along with the coffee table. There'd been a half-eaten birthday cake the last time you'd been here. Now the table is completely clean. You wonder what Satoru had done with it. You hoped he threw it away because the thought of him sitting there, alone, finishing the pastry filled you with so much guilt you could almost feel sick.

"Did you see the weather just an hour ago?" He asks offhandedly, "thought the rain would smash through my windows, from how loud it was."

"Oh?" You ask genuinely because you honestly hadn't noticed anything regarding the weather. You'd been stressing about the reunion, mind too preoccupied to care about the skies.

"'hope the violets survived. I just planted 'em yesterday." He glances out the window as though he could see through the sheets of rain. You hum, already feeling out of place. The silence is only accompanied by the rain lightly patting on the windows.

"You still love him." When you don't answer right away, Satoru turns back. "That Zenin guy. You love him."

It catches you so off guard that you can't help but tell the truth. You nod once.

He's still smiling, but the air feels off somehow. Like you're passing unmarked territory. It's a silly thought, and you brush it off immediately. Despite how strained your relationship is currently, Satoru isn't dangerous. He never will be.

"Yeah," he responds, "I just don't get why, y'know?"

You try to smile, but it's like pulling teeth. "I-I don't see how-"

"It just doesn't make sense. You and him, I mean. You two are so different."

You couldn't argue with that. Toji and you were on opposite ends. He was from a world that you would never be able to reach, let alone touch. You were a regular woman. He was a man who fought curses on a regular basis. A man who died from it.

Satoru's laughing; it takes you a moment to realize you might have said some of that out loud.

"Right. Fuck I keep forgetting that's what I told you." Satoru leans against the counter. "A special grade killed Zenin."

"I mean, technically, I didn't lie, right? A special grade did kill him. A special grade sorcerer."

Your brain stops. You can only stare. Satoru reaches up, taking off his glasses, folding them before neatly placing them on the counter. His eyes were always so breathtaking; now they look empty. Soulness.

You laugh. It sounds delirious. "But-but you said you were one of the only special grade sorcerers around."

"Yeah." Satoru nods along.

"Satoru...you're not making any sense..."

"Really?" Satoru tilts his head. "What part of 'I killed your husband' is confusing for you?"

He continues at your silence. "I mean, it wasn't like it wasn't for a good reason. The guy shot a junior high girl for cash. Knowing him, he's probably done worse. If you're asking me, I did a good thing by killing him--oh." Satoru pauses at your expression: horrified, broken.

He's smiling. You think that's the worst part. It's the same smile he's always worn. Playful and mischievous.

"C'mon, you seriously didn't know what he was up to. I can't tell whether you're that stupid or if he was that good at hiding it."

You should have denied it. You should have said Toji would never do the heinous act Satoru just accused him off, but can you? Could you honestly say that? You knew Toji was in bad shit. You'd always known that. He told you about the gambling, the drugs, the money. After he married you, he promised he walked away from that life, he was walking away with you. One last job, he'd said. Just one last job and he was done forever.

Something that goes beyond money, Toji had said, something you would never understand.

You can hardly breathe, sinking against the wall behind you as you collapse onto the floor. Your hands are pressed against your mouth, muffling your sobs as your eyes are filled with tears. Every interaction you've ever had with Toji is flitting through your mind. You can feel the bile in your stomach, threatening to leave your lips, splatter across the floor.

Your husband was a murderer.

Your husband was a monster.

His fingers are cold as he firmly pushes your hands away from your face. You glance up. Satoru stares right back. His smile is gone, replaced by a frown. He squats before you, idly tracing his pointer figure around your cheeks, catching your falling tears.

"He took everything from me, y'know," he says, quiet, low enough that the rain almost drowns his voice, "in just a day, my entire life changed. Someone died. A person I thought would be by my side my entire life disappeared."

"But, I gotta' thank him. Without his help, I wouldn't have become stronger, and I wouldn't have you."

You suck in a breath at that, but Satoru isn't paying attention. His hand traces down to your neck, feeling the skin.

"I like to think that he gave me you as an apology of sorts. It's nice to think of it that way, right?"

You look at him, absolutely horrified at how casual he was being.

Your husband was a monster.

And he’d left you with another one.

Immediately, you slap his hands away.

"Stop." You say, a weak hiss, "don't-don't touch me. Never ever touch me-"

"Yeah," he interrupts, ignoring your wavering voice, "I didn't think you would jump into my arms after what I said, either. But, hey, a guy can dream, right?"

What? And before you can think, he's pressing his lips against yours.

It's not like his first kiss. Before, when it was soft and sweet and he barely pushed, like he was savoring you. This kiss was harsh. Filled with teeth and lust and endless greed. You can taste the inexperience, and the thought that this might be the second time Satoru’s ever kissed someone fills your head. The fight is almost pathetic as you sink into his hold, helpless to do anything but wilt until he's had enough of his fill. You push against his chest, but he only leaves on his terms.

You're both panting, but you're more frazzled. His lips are blushing pink, and there's a string of saliva that stretches before snapping apart. You can feel the way his hands are positioned on your hips. Disgust and self-hatred wells up within you.

"I meant what I said that day: I love you." You squeeze your eyes at his confession. "I mean, what's there not to love? You're sweet; you're hot."

His hands play with the hem of your shirt. You stiffen as you try to claw them off of you, but it doesn't help. You don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. It's morbid curiosity. Looking at a car crash. Your eyes open and you stare at Satoru.

"But I think the thing I love about you the most is that you'll never hate me."

Two glowing blue eyes stare back at you. He looks ethereal like this. Even when he's kneeling, he's still taller than you. He's always been above you. Not just in height, you're slowly starting to realize.

You always thought Satoru hated his last name. You always thought he blamed his lineage for his loneliness, his isolation. He grew up too fast, forced to become something for the sake of others. It's why you tried so hard to treat him like an equal, as though he were another human.

When he leans in to kiss you again, you finally understand that Gojo never wanted to part from his last name. Why would he? It was always a part of him. It was your fault for trying to humanize and connect with him. You fought for years to see him as an equal that you neglected to ask if he even wanted to be on the same plane as you.

Perhaps, once he did. Back when candlelight illuminated his face. When chocolate was the only thing you could taste.

"You can't hate me." He smiles against your lips. "You feel too sorry for me."

"No matter what I do to you, you'll never hate me."

You start crying again. Satoru hushes you, wiping away your tears in a way that suggests he's not used to being soft and delicate. Yet, he's trying to be. Soon, his gentleness fades, and his impatience seeps in again. It's all too easy for Satoru to haul you to your feet. He was the strongest, after all. You struggle anyway because you're human and your heart is filled with foolish hope. He laughs at your meager attempts to push him away, and you feel that this is all a game for him. Maybe it always was.

"Satoru-Satoru," you're begging as he pulls you through his empty house, "you don't have to do this. Please just-"

"See? You still aren't getting it." Satoru sighs, like he's disappointed before he's tossing you in a room. You flail against the bed, your chest pressed against the cushions before he's flipping you onto your back. It's worse when he's hovering over you, both hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

"I'm not doing anything I don't want to do. I never have."

You expect Satoru to kiss you again, that disgusting display where he rips you apart with his teeth, consuming you whole. Instead his pretty blue eyes flit to your clenched hand. He snatches up your wrist, easily unfurling your hand.

You react too late, only reaching up to stop him when he’s done pulling the ring off your finger. Satoru barely gives it an unimpressed look before he’s tossing it aside. You can only stare in the direction of it, watching as the last thing you had of him drops into the darkness. There’s two metallic clinks before it’s rolling to a stop. And then, you hear nothing.

He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“I was so sick of looking at that.” He mumbles into your skin, giving it a playful nip. “Parading that thing around in front of another man like that. It’s kinda’ rude, y'know?”

You give another sob when his hands dig underneath your shirt. He presses on the softness of your belly, burying his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good.” He groans into your neck. You can feel something press against your thigh.

You know what he was planning on doing, he made it clear ever since he dug himself into your skin with fangs. But the evidence. The hands twitching up your shirt, groping and feeling. The bulge grinding against your thigh

You can’t fight him, you stopped trying. Instead, you clench your fists again, letting the last of your tears drip down your face, praying and praying that what Satoru said wasn’t true.

Satoru isn’t nice to your clothes. You don’t know why you thought he ever would be. When he’s done with feeling and not looking, he pushes your shirt up, letting it catch just over the swell of your chest. He’s pushing your bra down, leaning down to trace your skin with his hot, wet tongue.

You jolt at the contact. It’d been so long since you’ve last been touched. He’s barely done anything and yet you’re already so sensitive. Something between a gasp and a moan is pulled out of your lips when Satoru swirls his tongue around your nipple, before he takes it fully in his mouth.

He’s tasting you, savoring you in a way you’d only seen him do for his cherished candy. He’s messy with it too, drool and spit spilling onto your skin, making you feel even colder than you already were.

Satoru has never stopped with just one candy, has he? He’s greedy, popping another and another in his mouth until the bag is all empty. It’s his natural essence to take until there’s nothing left. That’s why his hand trails down to your skirt, pushing it down before you can even decipher what he wants next from you.

You gasp when his hand presses against your panties, pushing them between your folds. The fabric lightly brushes against your clit, not enough for you to have any kind of relief. Still, a tingle jolts up your back.

“You’re soaked!” Satoru’s exclaiming. His voice comes out in the form of a laugh, light and innocent. It hurts to hear him sound like that. You have no more tears to cry again.

You want to tell him that it wasn’t you, that you don’t want him, that it’s just your body, but you doubt he cares about any of that. He pushes your panties down, letting them sit against your thighs before he’s pushing a finger deep into your wet pussy.

You can’t stop the noises this time. It’s more of a yelp than a moan, but Satoru takes it in stride as he continues to finger fuck you. When he digs a second finger into your hole, there’s a wet squelch of a sound. You have to turn away, but you can feel his smile against your skin. Victorious.

His other hands comes, pushing in between your breasts to keep you on the bed as he plants butterfly kisses down your ribs, your stomach, your hips, all the way down until he’s practically on his knees.

You were right to assume his inexperience. He’s sloppy, spreading his saliva and your wetness all over your pussy. There’s no rhythm, no clear pattern as he’s trying everything at once--swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit before licking his way into your hole.

And yet, it’s working. Your battered cunt responds to his enthusiasm, and your walls squeeze his fingers.

You can’t stop your noises. You don’t think he’s trying to stop his. His voice is muffled by your pussy, but he’s moaning and groaning so loudly. You think he’s saying something, but you can hear anything over the wet sounds of your cunt, the throbbing between your ears.

Your orgasm was inevitable, but you’re still surprised when it hits. Ramming into you like a train. Your back arches, and your thighs are involuntarily squeezing Satoru’s head. Keeping him there.

There’s a hum of satisfaction coming from him, but he doesn’t pull away. He folds your thighs, pushing them up into your chest so he can get more access to your pussy, sucking even harder on your clit. You were so far out of it that you can barely remember that this isn’t for you. It’s all for him. Satoru is greedy. It’s his natural essence to take and take until you’re nothing more than an empty bag, once filled with something sweet.

He doesn’t stop until you’ve come around his fingers and tongue a second time, when your cries are on the brink of overstimulation. When Satoru finally pulls away, the bottom half of his face is shiny. He keeps his eyes on you, messily wiping the remnants of you off his face before his leaning forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself.

Unlike you, he doesn’t bother undressing himself. He’s unraveling his belt from his waist, pushing his pants down enough that he’s able to untuck his cock from his briefs. He’s already hard, giving his dick two cursory pumps before he’s settling his on either side of your body, keeping you there.

He’s big. Big enough that you worry he might actually succeed in breaking you. A semblance of rebellion, motivated by fear than anything else, stirs inside you. You push yourself up, elbows pressing against the mattress before he’s ending it.

There’s a grin, a flash of teeth, before he’s roughly pushing you down again.

“Satoru-“You start, you beg.

“Shut it,” he says, his smile too dangerous to be friendly, “if it isn’t begging me to fuck you, then I don’t wanna hear it.”

As though he’s taking the sight in himself, he hovers over you. The light from the window gently caresses his face in an angel kiss. His white hair is almost like halo, swathing him in an innocent shade of beauty.

When Satoru sinks his cock deep inside of you, you wonder if he’s defiling you or himself.

Just like before, he doesn’t bother letting you acclimate. He doesn’t wait, he doesn’t hold off. You can’t expect him too. Your pussy is squeezing him, edging him on. How could you expect him to not take it as a challenge and fuck you the way he’s dying to?

It’s exactly what he does as he bullies his cock deep inside your walls again and again. He whimpers, high and pitchy before he’s leaning down to bite and lick at your neck, your chest, leaving your skin with marks and bruises that will last for days.

Satoru loses his sharpness the more he’s inside of you. You cry when he leans down, circling his thumb across your clit.

“So good,” he’s mumbling into your sweaty skin, like a mantra, “so good so good. You’re so good. I love you I love you I love you-“

It’s torture to hear him say that over and over again and a part of you tries to force yourself to think of someone else to give you comfort. Scarred lips. Thick black hair.

You can’t.

Satoru has taken away everything, even your dreams.

There’s another gasp before he’s harshly gripping on your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are blown open, wide and manic.

“Say my name,” he’s begging but his grip is too tight to be anything but an order, “I-I need you to-fuck-say my name.”

“Sa-Satoru.” He lurches at that, almost collapsing into your chest.

“Again.”

“Satoru,” and then you say it again and again and again because your brain’s too muddled to do anything but listen to him.

His thumb is moving faster and faster on you clit, his thrusts are getting sloppier.

“Gonna-gonna fill you up,” An alarm of panic ring as he’s blabbering, words stilted and strained, “I gotta’—I just gotta’, can’t think of ‘nothing else—fuck fuck.” He adjusts your legs, folding your body in half so he can push that much deeper inside of you.

He smiles again. Wild. Unhinged. The monsoon that is Gojo Satoru. If you won’t wash away with him, then he is more than happy to drown you in his rain.

“Fuck,” he curses again, his voice a mix of a laugh and a groan, “think the kid would like a younger sibling?”

You can barely process his words. You don’t think Satoru could process his either. His orgasm triggers your own, and you’re both tipping over the edge together. His cum fills your pulsing cunt, searing your insides with white heat.

Satoru collapses on top of you, pressing you into the mattress of expensive sheets. You two stay like that, just the sounds of your harsh breathing fills the room. Satoru gives a shaky kiss on your lips, just as sweet and chaste as the first time.

He stays there for another minute, before he’s pushing himself up again. You can’t understand what he’s doing until you realize he’s still hard inside of you.

“Satoru—” it’s a plea, your voice overwrought with exhaustion, “Don’t—"

“One more, ‘kay?” he slurs, pushing his cock as deep as it could get inside of you, “Just—Just one more.”

You wake up hours later. It's pitch-black, the lights are gone. Distantly, you can feel Satoru's hand curled around your waist. He'd fallen asleep with his head buried in your neck. You can feel his rhythmic breathing against your skin. Outside, the rain beats on the windows, and thunder rattles in the sky.

You wait for it—the anger, the hatred—for yourself to hate Gojo Satoru.

He was right. Nothing came.

#yandere jjk #yandere #yandere gojo satoru #dark content #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #x reader #gojo satoru #afab reader #tw:noncon

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ghostandsoap · 1 year

Text

Call Signs

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader (Ft. John “Soap” MacTavish)

Tags: Angst. Gunshot wound. Blood loss. Shock. Hypothermia. Major injury. Mentions of death.

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: So I’m not totally sure how accurate some of this is. Also, I’m not sure if parts of this are canon? Read with caution LOL.

“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

Military call signs. Clever, crafty, and specific to the person they’re associated with.

There was one main, golden rule when it came to call signs: don’t complain about your own call sign, or else they’ll give you something worse.

Yours wasn’t exactly one that you were thrilled with in the beginning. It wasn’t as badass as you would’ve liked. If you had been given the opportunity to choose, you would’ve chosen something a little more…tough. But once the name stuck, you were stuck with it. You didn’t dare let even a single word of distaste fall from your mouth. If anybody caught wind of you complaining about it, they’d give you something to really complain about.

Over the years, you had heard some good ones — some more creative than others. Depending on the person, sometimes it was easy to tell the reason behind their given name — other times, not so much. You had some friends that you still didn’t know the reason why they were given their call sign.

For example, Soap was just Soap.

In the time that you had known him, you had begged Soap to tell you where his call sign came from. You had even rattled and poked at Captain Price a bit to get him to give it up. But both of them always gave you the same answer.

It’s classified.

With that answer, you refused to tell anyone the reason behind your own call sign. If they weren’t going to tell you about theirs, then you weren’t telling them about yours. It was only fair, you weren’t telling anybody. Nobody knew.

Well…nobody except–

“Gecko. This is Ghost. How copy?” The syrupy-thick voice seeped through your ear that was still ringing from gunfire.

You were cold – miserably cold. You were chilled all the way to the bone to the point where your skin was numb to the touch. The sound of rain registered with you. The sky was pouring buckets, which explained why you were so freezing. There was no telling how long you had been passed out and exposed to the elements. Not a single part of you was dry, despite all your layers underneath and over.

There was pain somewhere. Your groggy state made it difficult to figure out exactly where you were hurt. To be honest, it hurt just about everywhere. A searing sensation settled in your side, but it was migrating all over. Based on the large red spot leaking through that area, you had a really good idea then of what it was.

“Gecko, do you copy?” Another voice spoke that you knew to belong to Soap.

His voice sounded a million miles away, even though it was literally right in your ear. When your eyes opened, you were eye-level with the ground. You were met with a harsh pavement underneath you, muscles trembling with exhaustion and low temperatures. It took a few seconds for your vision to clear, and it took even more effort for you to raise yourself up even to make it onto your elbows.

When you were able to take a glance around, it wasn’t any less unsettling. The slick streets of Las Almas weren’t very pleasant in the dead of night. Even worse, you didn’t know where Soap and Ghost were.

It all came flooding back to you. Graves turned on the team. He tried to kill all of you. You, Ghost, and Soap managed to split up and narrowly escape. It was chaos, the kind that shaved about 15 years off of your life.

“C’mon. Where are you, Gecko?” Ghost asked in an aggravated, yet worried way.

His question was more out loud and to himself more than anything, but it occurred to you that it probably would be nice for him to hear you.

“I’m here,” You groaned, throat dry and scratchy. “Just barely.”

“Oh shit. You’re alive!” Soap replied, and you swear you could feel Ghost relax from wherever he was.

“What’s your status?” Ghost demanded.

You were not telling Ghost that you were hurt if you could help it. It was certainly against protocol, but you didn’t need Ghost getting all worked up when the three of you needed to find one another and get the hell out of there. You knew how he could get whenever you were hurt.

“Where are you both?” You rolled onto your knees, ungracefully managing to get on your feet.

You felt any and all blood rush from your face, an overwhelming feeling of nausea taking over your stomach. The bleeding in your side was definitely a problem. You stripped your outer jacket off, wrapping it around your waist and tying it as tight as you could possibly stand it. It wasn’t like the jacket was useful any other way, considering it was soaked.

“No fuckin’ idea. I’m in and out of these shops,” Soap grumbled. “I’m soakin’ wet.”

“Me too,” You managed to laugh, but it came out as more of a struggled exhale. “Ghost, what’s your location?”

“The church. Soap’s finding his way here,” Ghost said. “What’s your status, Gecko?”

You knew he’d ask again. He always knew when you had dodged a question.

“Just a little rattled,” You lied. “Where’s the church?”

“It’s in the square. Navigate through the shops, they’ll lead you there,” Soap said. “Stay sharp. Shadows are everywhere.”

Survival mode has kicked in for you. You had one objective.

Find Ghost. Don’t get killed.

“Will do. Ghost, I’m coming to you.” You announced, beginning to take the first few steps to get yourself moving.

There was a brief moment of silence before he answered – and he gave an answer that you knew had Soap raising a brow.

“Please be safe.”

A shudder vibrated down your back, and it wasn’t from the bitter cold rain.

Being involved with Ghost was…complicated. It was a forbidden love in a lot of ways. There was a certain disapproval when it came to 2 members dating within the force. It caused drama sometimes, tension other times. Not to mention, it would be painfully awkward for everybody else if the two of you were to break up.

But the connection was undeniable. It astounded you just how in touch you felt with him. He did everything he could to protect you, to make you feel safe in an otherwise dangerous world. He spent every spare moment with you. He spilled all of his most pressing thoughts to you, knowing his words of vulnerability were safe with you. Talking to him was easy, spending time with him was easier.

Loving him was easiest of all.

Despite your likeness toward each other, it was a mutual understanding that no one was to know. Ghost didn’t fancy all the teasing, and you wanted at least one part of your life to be private. In front of others, you were Gecko and Ghost. When alone, you were Simon and [Y/N].

In a lot of ways, the secretive aspect of it was fun. You liked sneaking around with Ghost in the late hours of the night, tip-toeing around sleeping comrades in an attempt at a moment to yourselves. The nonchalant glances…the discreet, yet lingering touches…the whispers of words of affection. It was all something you couldn’t help but get a kick out of. Anybody in their right mind would find it even a little bit entertaining.

But in all honesty, suspicions from the rest were becoming more and more.

Price had known immediately. Not even three days after you and Simon decided to give it a try, he could sense that something was different. He couldn’t really explain it. He could just see it in Ghost’s behavior that he was preoccupied with something…someone else. Something that had been sprouting for a long time was now beginning to blossom in front of the captain’s very eyes. Price was a respectful man. He wasn’t one to get in the way of something that wasn’t his business. He kept an eye on the situation here and there, more for a status update than anything.

It took Gaz about four months. He suspected nothing in the beginning. He managed to miss all the signs at first. Who could blame him? He didn’t know he was supposed to even be looking for them. He didn’t catch any real changes in behavior or attitude. In all honesty, if he hadn’t witnessed it with his very eyes – he might’ve never known. It had been a quick gesture. So quick that Gaz might’ve been able to convince himself that he was mistaken if it hadn’t been so blatantly clear.

Gaz had passed by a bit quicker than he normally would, catching a quick glimpse inside the room he hadn’t planned on entering. What he saw was a kiss being planted on the cheek of Ghost’s mask, and a light laugh from the man as you did so. Gaz had stopped dead in his tracks, stunned at what he had seen. He was tempted to turn around and question you, but he knew better. Gaz figured if he hadn’t been told outright, then it probably wasn’t for him to know. He kept it in the back of his mind, however, and after that, he began noticing everything.

And as for Soap, the poor lad had yet to connect the dots. He had heard some chatter here and there about Gecko and Ghost “getting it on.” Soap didn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen it or heard it for himself, so in his mind, the rumors were null. That didn’t mean that Soap didn’t like the idea of his lieutenant and one of his closest friends seeing each other. He entertained the thought here and there. He supposed that Gecko and Ghost had a nice ring to it, and it was something that he liked to snicker about. Overall, Soap didn’t think about it too much. There was no way that “LT” and the infamous Gecko were together. Almost a year into it, and John MacTavish was oblivious.

It hadn’t taken you long to develop feelings for Ghost. Suddenly, you were worried about where he was and him getting hurt more often than not. This was one hell of a career to be in when you were an anxious worrier. This job had changed for you. Before, there was no fear of living or dying. It was just you. It was all you. But when there was someone else in the cards?

That changed things. That really changed things.

That seemed to be the only fight that you and Ghost ever had. It was always the same one. One of you fell ill or became injured, it was due to defying an order, the other was scared to death that something worse could’ve happened, and most of all – you both wished that the other would be more careful.

“Careful” was a funny word in this business. No matter how careful you were, that didn’t automatically make you safe.

Roaming the streets of Las Almas while lethargic, unarmed, and bleeding was a definite reminder of that. You followed Soap’s advice, weaving in and out of the stores and getting whatever supplies you could get your hands on. A homemade weapon was better than no weapon, in your mind. Avoiding any and all Shadows was your main goal. There was no chance of you getting out of that alive, if this bullet lodged in your side didn’t kill you first. You hoped that Soap had made it to the church by now. It made you feel better to know that they were together.

The rain showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. You figured it was fine. It wasn’t like you could get any more wet than you already were. It at least made enough noise to conceal your footsteps, which you didn’t have much control over due to the splitting pain in your core.

You just had to get to the church. Get to the church, get out of here, and get patched up. You’d be fine. You’d survived worse. You weren’t going to-

There was a flash of white over your vision. While brief, it was enough to startle you to a complete halt. You staggered out of the coffee shop, leaning against the back door for support. This was bad. This was really bad.

“Ghost…” You squeaked.

Breathing suddenly became overly difficult. Every gulp of air was a struggle to get the next one. There was a significant wobble in your knees as you stumbled into the nearest alley for cover, knowing your legs were close to giving out. It was notably colder in the space between the two buildings, but the feeling of your soul being slowly sucked back into the universe made that seem minor.

“Talk to me. Where are you?” Ghost asked.

That was when you collapsed, landing on the wet ground with a thud. A whimper escaped from your throat at the impact. Clutching your wounded side was all you knew to do. Your jacket used as a makeshift way of putting pressure on it was proving ineffective.

“The alleyway,” You strained. “Left of the coffee shop.”

Ghost and Soap both heard the trouble in your voice. Ghost had only heard that tone once before — and it was when something was really, really wrong.

“What’s your status now?” Soap questioned.

Lying was no good to you now. They were going to know one way or the other.

“I’m down,” You swallowed. “Must’ve been hit at some point when we got away.”

There was no way you were making it to the church. You were as good as gone as long as there was still a bullet in your torso. Bleeding out in the streets of a run-down town in Mexico wasn’t how you had envisioned going out. That was a conversation you had held with Soap more than once. Everybody had their preferred way of dying. You had always hoped that you’d meet your demise in a more memorable way. Maybe in a missile explosion or getting ejected from a helicopter in a hot pursuit.

Dying alone was the part and the possibility that always scared you the most.

This wasn’t what you had in mind. Bleeding to death by yourself in an alleyway in the middle of a run-down town in Mexico wasn’t what you had wished for. You knew the day would come…and the day had finally come.

But not if Ghost could help it.

“I’m coming to get you, Gecko. Don’t move,” Ghost remarked sternly, and you could hear that he was on the move. “Soap, we’ll meet you at the church.”

“Copy.” Soap confirmed.

“N-no,” You coughed. “Ghost, don’t leave your location if you’re secure.”

“None of us are secure. I’m not leaving you,” Ghost said sternly. “Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

Arguing with Ghost was usually a lost cause. When Ghost was set on something, he was surely going to stick with it. It was a waiting game now, and it was one of the most helpless feelings to know that you were relying on somebody else to save your ass. You knew that Ghost would be there in half the time that it probably should’ve taken him, but when you’re dying, the minutes feel like eternity.

This wasn’t the first time that you had been in situations like this. Everybody had their fair shares of “I almost died” stories. But this was different for you. This was the closest you had ever been to not living to tell this story.

Panicking was most definitely not the way to handle this situation. Very rarely was panicking ever helpful in a dire, critical scenario like this. It was the most eerie feeling – literally feeling yourself dying. The blood loss was becoming less, but only because you were running out of blood to lose. Your heart was beating slower and slower by the second. Breathing was now a voluntary action. As the adrenaline wore off and the reality of the situation set in, your anxiety crept over you and infiltrated any room for collectedness that you had left.

“G-Ghost.” You sighed, a layer of tears pricking at the base of your lashes.

Ghost heard the near sob in your words, putting an even faster pep in his step.

“Almost there, Gecko. What’s wrong?”

“I’m…I’m scared.” You admitted, hot tears mixing with the fresh rain water on your cheeks.

Ghost’s heart shattered into a million pieces, catapulting into every vessel near it like the strongest of shrapnel. He couldn’t stand the thought of you alone and scared.

“I know. Just keep talking to me and Soap,” He breathed, trying to stay calm for you. “I’m coming, G.”

‘G’ was a nickname inside of a nickname. Ghost only used it sparingly, and it was usually when he was trying to be supportive or sympathetic without giving your secret romantic endeavor away.

It felt silly to say. Generally speaking, you didn’t really have the right to be afraid. It was the pure passion for your job and your own willingness that put you in dangerous situations. It was your own free will, your own decision that you made the same choice on every single time. It was one thing to be scared when you ended up here accidentally. It was another when it was a consequence of your choices and actions. Courage and strength were supposed to be your strong suits. They were the characteristics that you were supposed to fall back on every time.

Yet here you were. Scared to death of dying – something that you had thought about and been preparing for since you started this gig.

“Simon, I-I…I don’t want to d-”

“It’s ‘cause I clean house quickly.” Soap’s voice echoed in one ear and out the other, suddenly and abruptly.

What?

Even in a near unconscious-like state, you were still well aware of how that needed some clarification.

“S-say again?” You stuttered, the corners of your vision beginning to go foggy.

“Soap. ‘Cause I clean house and buildings with speed ‘n accuracy,” Soap repeated. “That’s why they call me Soap.”

Soap!

It made so much sense. You were almost embarrassed that you didn’t think of that yourself. You knew it was Soap’s way of distracting you – keeping your mind off of dying.

“That’s a good one,” You nearly wheezed. “Thought it was because you were a bath man.”

“Thanks for that image. Won’t be able to unsee that one,” Ghost piped up. “Almost there, Gecko. Hang on for me, yeah?”

Ghost’s voice was strained as if he were running. Using every ounce of speed and stamina that he had to get you as fast as possible. He couldn’t lose you like this.

He refused to lose you like this.

“It’s because I’m quick on my feet, and because I can scale a building faster than anybody.” You croaked.

“Ah. That’s why they call you Gecko?” Soap chuckled, and you could hear the amusement in his words.

“Came up with that one myself.” Ghost smirked.

“Some people might even say geckos are kind of cute.” You joked, but didn’t quite have the energy to laugh.

“I’d agree with that,” Ghost countered, and you could sense Soap’s internal confusion from forever away. “I have a visual on Gecko. Almost at the church, Soap?”

“Affirmative, Lt. Meet you there.”

Sure enough, Ghost appeared from seemingly nowhere, like a sent guardian angel. Your vision had tunneled, so you couldn’t see much out of your peripherals. He had never seen you so weak and close to going out on him. His eyes behind the mask were wide and dark, focused on getting you out alive.

“Nice to see you, Lieutenant.” You shivered.

“Glad you’re not a goner,” He returned, removing the glove from his right hand and pressing his fingers against your cheek. “Shit. You’re freezing.”

“How bad do I look?” You slurred, and you fought to keep your eyeballs from rolling back into your head.

“Probably not as bad as you feel. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Ghost said, working quickly to get himself arranged to carry you.

“Did you see any Shadows on the way?” You gulped, eyelids beginning to flutter.

“They’re everywhere. We need to get going,” Ghost scooped you up effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing and weren’t dripping wet through multiple layers. “C’mon, love. Let’s get you out of here.”

The journey from the ground to up into Ghost’s arms felt like an airplane takeoff. You were close to slipping out of consciousness.

“We’ll get to Soap and get a vehicle out of here,” Ghost explained, readjusting his arm underneath your knees. “You’re going to be fine, Gecko.”

“G-Guess I wasn’t quick enough this time, huh?” You gave the faintest grin, and Ghost couldn’t help but laugh at your stupid joke.

“Shut up.”

There was relief in knowing that you were with Ghost. Your chances of dying hadn’t changed, but if you were going to die, this was a better way of going out.

The fog in your vision became thicker and thicker until you couldn’t see or hear a thing. The darkness surrounded you, sucking you deeper and deeper into nothingness.

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

The next time your eyes opened, you weren’t met with the dim streets of Las Almas. There was no smell of rain or taste of blood and sweat. The smell this time was sterile air and cheap (but clean) bedsheets. You couldn’t taste anything due to the worst case of cottonmouth that you had ever experienced. The beeping music of an EKG reader and distant chatter was the real giveaway.

The muscles in your legs were stiff, mainly because you hadn’t moved them in so long. A grunt was all you could manage as you shifted, a new type of discomfort erupting where you had been shot. It was all wrapped up now (professionally and medically wrapped), clean and taken care of. There was an IV in each arm, one administering fluids and the other what you could only imagine to be some kind of pain medication. The white walls and tan floors were weirdly comforting…a sign to let you know that you were safe for now.

The best sights of all were the ones seated to the left of your bed.

Ghost’s arms were crossed, ankles crossed over each other, and his head lowered and his breathing steady. His outer skull mask was nowhere to be seen, but his balaclava was clinging to his face as always.

Soap was also snoozing, but less peacefully and quietly. His head was tilted back as far as it possibly could go, his arms draped at his sides, legs stretched all the way out, and snoring so loud that you were surprised you hadn’t already heard it.

You were gentle as you called to Ghost, considering he didn’t always react calmly when being woken up.

“Hey…” You rasped with a dry throat. “Ghost.”

His eyes snapped open, flickering up to you instantly. A monumental wave of relief visibly crashed over him, filling his veins and relaxing his heart.

“You’re awake,” He leaned closer, taking your hand into his. “You’re okay.”

“What…how long has it been?” You asked, bits of your memory coming back to you.

“A few days…four I think, ” He answered with a nod. “How do you feel?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure. Physically you felt terrible, but better than when you were dying of shock, cold, and blood loss. Mentally you felt fuzzy and groggy from being out so long. Emotionally…well, only time would tell.

“Like shit.” You admitted.

“Not surprised.” He grinned under his face covering.

There were a few beats of silence. You took a few glances around, getting familiar with your new setting. Ghost, though, never took his eyes off of you. They were a light shade of red, and even his balaclava couldn’t hide the dark circles under them.

“Have you slept at all?” You asked, knowing good and well he hadn’t left your side.

“A little bit here and there,” He said, motioning his free hand towards Soap. “This is the most sleep Soap’s gotten this whole time. He’s been out for about 30 minutes.”

Soap was indeed out like a light. You couldn’t imagine how tired the two of them were. There was another stretch of silence. This one lasted longer and was much more tense. This wasn’t an easy encounter. How were you supposed to act when you had barely scraped by with your life?

“Simon?”

“Yeah, love?”

“How close was it?”

Simon stared for a moment. No formation of an answer to your question occurred for a second or two. He didn’t like that question. He had avoided thinking about it until now. Ghost knew that he’d have to do his own mentality check in with himself in a few days. He had almost lost the most important person in his life…he’d need to deal with that.

“Too close.”

Another silence. Another silent thank you that you were here to see another day.

“You were…hypothermic, in shock. You lost a lot of blood before and during surgery,” He said. “Doc said if it had been any later getting you help-”

“Hey,” A groggy voice piped in, unaware that he was interrupting. “Gecko’s up.”

Soap’s eyes were just as bloodshot as Ghost’s, but Soap’s personality was wide awake.

“Happy to see you again, Sergeant. My apologies for being absent from our reunion at the church.” You grinned.

“Yeah, yeah. Left us to do double the work,” Soap chuckled. “Feels weird callin’ you Gecko now that I know where it comes from.”

“Soap doesn’t have the same ring to it, I have to say.” You fired back.

“Agh, I’m crushed. Right in my pride!” He shrieked.

The three of you shared a soft laugh. Nothing like Soap’s comedic relief to break the tension. You felt okay. This was just one of those things. One of the things that you signed up for with this job. It didn’t make it any less unnerving, but now you felt like you could really move on from this.

And you were thankful that you had lived to tell the story.

There was a sudden itch in your throat. An annoying tickle that reminded you that you hadn’t had a physical sip of water in four days.

“Do you think that I could get some water?” You wondered aloud, nearly choking on your own words from the parched feeling.

Ghost hadn’t left your side when you were knocked out, and he surely wasn’t leaving now that you were awake.

“Johnny, could you-”

“Yep! On it.” He scurried out and down the hall without another word.

That left you and Ghost. The man that saved your life by risking his own to come back for you. You didn’t even want to think about what you would’ve done if Ghost had gotten killed at your expense. At least you would’ve died together, but that hardly sounded right or fair. Ghost deserved so much more.

“You scared me.” Ghost confessed, not even hiding the worry in his voice.

“I know…I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, doll. Just…” He sighed. “Just really thought that I had lost you this time.”

There wasn’t anything you could say to make him feel better. You knew that because you had been in his shoes. His head wasn’t in the best place. You knew that even better. But if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that you loved him more than anybody else ever could.

“Thanks for coming back for me.” You whispered, a sudden set of tears slipping down your cheeks.

Ghost raised his balaclava. The material stopped just under his nose, his bare lips coming to press a kiss to the back of your hand. He made a solemn swear to himself in that moment that he’d never take you for granted again. He’d never get too comfortable with having you around and at his disposal.

Because fate was far too cruel for that.

“Always.”

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