#literally the only thing that would get me to watch the walking dead again is an adaptation of lee and clem’s story
Text
—dissolve | fushiguro toji
summary: he tosses the pregnancy test aside, digs into his pocket, rips out his wallet, and flips it open, fishing out the few bills he has and sticking his hand out towards you.
“take the money and get rid of it.”
WARNINGS: pregnancy, angst, violence, mentions of sex work, emotional constipation and rep of ptsd
pairing: fushiguro toji x fem!reader
word count: 18.5k
a/n: came back from the dead to post this. i swear TO GOD!!! that this is not a pregnancy fic. in fact, it's arguably worse because it's a plot point instead. excuse any editing mistakes.
obligatory toji might be ooc warning, but we literally have never seen him act normal outside of his job so i make due w what i got.
inspired by dissolve by joji
on ao3 woohoo
(exposition)
Toji’s made a fair few mistakes in his life. It’s hard to count on his fingers alone how many he’s made, but this has to be on the top of the fucking list.
“What do you want me to do with this information?” he spits as he pulls his pants on past his waist. His skin is burning, flushed red from the haze of sex, or maybe it’s the scoring of your nails down his back. His chest feels like it’s stinging.
You’re standing before him, raw power, untapped fury. You’re an unpredictability he has never encountered—you drive him crazy.
You’re also an avid, self-proclaimed misanthrope (ironic, given your profession, and more than a lie, given that Toji knows you), so the fact that he’s still standing here and you haven’t flung a bottle at him once during this whole charade they’ve got going on is admirable.
You don’t look at him, but there’s slick dripping down your thigh, and he’s honestly surprised you’re standing so soon after he’s made a permanent indent into the bed in the shape of your body, but then again, he’s known you for a while now. You’ve always been stubborn, proud, and never want to be seen waiting on anything, so while he’s standing there, staring apathetically at your back, you busy yourself with straightening out bed.
Red neon lights. Men, women, people, all roaming halls, hidden behind purple gauze and thick smoke.
They said the one he’d paid for would be the last one on the left.
Shit, he’s sweating like crazy.
“I don’t know,” you say, tossing the stick behind you without looking. He catches it easily, and stares at the tiny plus sign before looking back at you. You’re rubbing your face with the heel of your hand, and when you turn your head, he sees the frustration etched onto your face. “I don’t know what you can do.”
Toji pulls the door aside, and the figure on the bed looks up, painted lips parting in surprise. He beats you to the punch. “You’re the doctor.”
“You’re the fucked up guy from the clinic.”
And, because Toji has faced real commitment once and lost it just as quickly, he does the one thing he knows best.
He tosses the pregnancy test aside, digs into his pocket, rips out his wallet, and flips it open, fishing out the few bills he has and sticking his hand out towards you.
“Take the money and get rid of it,” he says, but it edges more on an order. You slant your body, frustration dissolving into disbelief at his offer, and your eyes flutter from his hands to his face before your eyebrows furrow together. Your mouth drops open and snaps shut just as quickly, then you’re bending over to gather the closest thing you have to cover yourself.
You shimmy into a shirt you’ve stolen from him, the one with the worn hole at the back of the neck, and threads coming loose at the sleeves.
Just another mistake he’s made letting you steal from him.
“You don’t get to fuck a kid into me only to tell me to get rid of it, Toji.” You straighten up, and walk up to his proffered hand. Snatching the bills, you smash them into his chest, your palm hitting him square in the sternum. His lungs hitch, but you walk past him to the kitchen and he’s left to watch the bills flutter to the ground.
Turning around, Toji walks after you, ignoring his hard-earned money smearing the floor. It’s the last thing on his mind, nestled somewhere at the bottom with sex and affection.
Your presence, mellow and tired and unsure, mirrors him.
It’s probably the realest thing Toji has right now.
“Do you want tea?” you ask without turning around to make sure he’s followed because you know he has, setting the kettle on the stove with a bit less finesse than normal.
“It’s three AM.”
“I didn’t know my question was made redundant,” you snap, and Toji wants to throw a book at your head, so he settles on scowling and grabbing a mug that’s designated as his and sets it on the counter, sliding it over to you. You stop it before it can crash and when they’re pouring over their cups of chamomile in the dead of night, on opposite sides of the kitchen island and illuminated by the single lamp turned on overhead, Toji thinks of you as a mother, carrying a child on your shoulders.
The image comes to him at an uncomfortably quick pace, and he checks his phone. He has a contract, and race bets to make, and he looks at you again. You’re already watching him, mouth hidden behind a mug with a dog painted on the side.
“Megumi is coming over,” he grunts, setting his phone back down on the counter and lifting his mug.
“And if I’m busy?” you ask, because it’s routine that you say it whenever he decides to leave his son in your hands. And they need routine. They need this charade to avoid the storm growing above their heads.
“I’m dumping him on your doorstep,” he answers, “and I’m leaving.”
.
You don’t text him while he’s out on the job, not even your usual restrained good luck.
It’s three days before he comes back, and when he lets himself in with the spare key you keep behind the loose ninth brick on the right of your door, in the fifth row off the ground, you don’t bring it up.
Mostly because Megumi is fast asleep under your arm, and you’re asleep with him, curled around the two-and-a-half year old baby like he’s the one thing you have to protect with your life. Toji doesn’t wake you, but he does remove your arm to pick up his little boy and Megumi knows his father better than anyone. The tiny bundle immediately tries to make fists at Toji’s shirt, and lets out an incoherent whine at being disturbed before burying his chubby little face into his father’s chest.
You shift in your sleep, muttering nonsense. You’re sweating, the back of your shirt soaked when Toji leans over to look. There isn’t anything on the nearby low table except for paracetamol, a barely-finished bowl of okayu, countless tissues and a thermometer. The apartment is mostly a mess, with dirty dishes in the sink, and ingredients left on the countertops.
Toji can still hold his son with one hand, so he uses his free hand to touch the baby’s forehead to find it slightly warm, and then, because he has nothing better to do, he crouches beside you on the couch, and touches your brow, too. Your face is shining with more sweat, and there’s a feverish twitch in your face when his fingertips meet your skin. You let out a soft snorting noise, and he grins blandly.
“You’re pregnant, huh,” he mutters, mostly to himself. Your eyes flutter open, and find his with a tired precision, before you let them shut again. “Hey.” You turn your face into the couch, and let out a crackled moan.
“Your son is sick,” you tell him instead, voice muffled by the couch. “He has the fucking flu.”
“His fever broke,” answers Toji. “Get up and shower.”
“I can’t. My body molded to the couch.” Your voice is thin with fire, hoarse with exhaustion. You’re a burnt out candle still smouldering, and when he touches your simmering cheek, you hiss, slapping his hand and grabbing the nearest cushion, burying your head beneath it. “Stop it. Just take your son and leave me the fuck alone.”
“Shower,” he barks.
“Go fuck yourself,” you reply with the same burning annoyance.
Megumi yawns, ignorant of it all.
.
You work at a clinic, but call in sick for the next two weeks. Toji knows because he walks past the clinic sometimes on habit on his way back home, depending on the hour. You go on your smoke break at the same time if you can help it, and he’d catch you in an alleyway two blocks down because no one wants to see that their doctor smokes. There’d be a Mild Seven dangling from your mouth, and you’d eye him with an arched eyebrow, but you never questioned his appearance.
Sometimes, he walks you back even though you never ask him to, a new-burning cigarette slung from his lips, and he complains about your shitty taste in cigarette brands.
And you will always ask why he always takes the Mild Seven you offer, and he dismisses it with a shrug, some flimsy excuse of never biting the hand that feeds you.
Toji’s accustomed to stalling coming back just so he can walk past the clinic on his way home, or sometimes, he leaves the apartment with an excuse of groceries for Megumi just in case you’re there, doctor’s coat shed and a ratty hoodie pulled over your frame to hide the scrubs you don’t bother to change out of.
You aren’t smoking on your break when he finds you on one such ‘grocery trip’, but you’re still in the same alleyway.
“Toji,” you say before he’s even fully appeared at the lip of the alley, and you look up, pulling the hood away from your face. You look awful—swollen eye bags, peeling lips. There’s barely any life to your face, and you regard him wearily, something clicking in your hand. Upon closer inspection, it’s your lighter, and your thumb flicking it open and shut.
“What’s wrong with you?” He walks closer, but doesn’t lean on the wall. You look like you’ll lash out if he even so much as breathes in your direction. A rat skitters by his foot. “Don’t tell me it’s that fucking flu and you’re still contagious.”
“I’m pregnant,” you answer dryly. “And I have a nicotine addiction.”
“Smoke a cigarette,” he suggests, moving a hand to his pocket.
“I’m keeping the baby,” you reply. He pauses, blinks, and you only lift your chin at him, folding your hands behind you against the wall. Stretching your legs farther out over the concrete, you sink a few inches down. “So, I can’t smoke.”
“You’re keeping it?” Clenching his jaw, he scowls. “If this is to spite me—“
“Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? I don’t use human lives as playing cards.” Tilting your head back against the wall, you close your eyes. “Or human lives-to-be.”
“So, why the fuck—“
Your head jerks up. “Because I want this kid, okay? Is that so hard to fucking understand?”
“Maybe.” He shoves his hands into his pockets before laughing. “You’re barely a functioning person. What makes you think you’re fit to be a parent?”
“Like you’re the perfect father for Megumi,” you retort dryly. “I don’t have to justify my choices to you, and I don’t care if you’re in your child’s life. For all you care, this isn’t your child.”
Defensively: “But it is.”
“It doesn’t have to be. I’m giving you a way out,” you dismiss aloofly, pushing off the wall and straightening up. Meeting his gaze, you square your shoulders to his, and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m just that bitch you fuck when you’re bored, and you dump your son on me whenever you feel like it. You walk all over me, and I let you. At least you used to pay me for my services.” Toji’s blood begins to burn at the utter disgust and disappointment in your expression. “Do you think I don’t know what I am to you?”
And for a brief moment, Toji is speechless. Not because you’ve shocked him into silence, because he isn’t shocked, but because he genuinely doesn’t know what to say next. Every possible answer he has is shot down by rationale, and you search his face for any sort of response.
You find none.
Another mistake he’s made in his life is tallied down in some imaginary record when he runs out of time.
With a scoff, you shove past him, and disappear around the corner.
He doesn’t chase after you.
Toji’s just not that kind of guy.
Instead, he takes the newly-purchased box of Mild Sevens from his pocket, flips it open to retrieve a fresh cig, and lights it, cupping the end and inhaling as deeply as he can.
Pinching the cigarette between two fingers, he leans to the side in that alleyway and spits out a wad of saliva, the taste of the cigarette even sharper than normal.
“God, it tastes like shit,” he sighs to no one before inhaling again.
.
Toji’s kinda sorta fucked up.
He knows that doesn’t escape your notice. It’s how they first met after all—him a nineteen year old lumbering mess of blood and bruises, walking into the clinic mere minutes before your shift ended. You’d just been an intern taking the graveyard shift, and he’d pushed in, chin lifted high, eyes narrowed, finding yours.
“You the doctor?”
How did it spiral into this?
You snip the final suture shut on his shoulder and set the tools down, carefully piling the packaging together.
“Get outta here,” you tell him, slapping his shoulder to urge him off. You turn, disposing the trash, ripping off your gloves in the process.
“How’s the kid?”
“Megumi’s fine. He likes avocados now since I gave him slices with condensed milk on them,” you reply shortly. “Can you leave now?”
“I meant the baby,” he informs brusquely.
If it surprises you, you don’t let it show. “That is none of your business. Leave me alone.”
When he doesn’t budge, you stand there for a moment until he turns to look at you. In your scrubs, face clear but weighed down by exhaustion, you remind him of an exasperated cat owner. Hands on your hips, you worry your bottom lip until you realize he isn’t going anywhere he doesn’t want to and you sigh, gesturing for him to move over on the examination bench. Wedging yourself beside him, you grab onto the lip of the cushion and lean forward, shoulders hunching, head bowed.
“What do you want to know?” you ask acridly. “I crave sriracha on everything, I puke, I feel exhausted, I want to smoke all the time, and I cry pretty much every night.”
Blinking, Toji opens his mouth to say something witty. He only barely manages out a quiet: “You don’t even like sriracha.”
“I know.” Miserably, you lift your head and let out a sigh that seems to take all the strength with you. “What do you want from me, Toji?”
“I was just asking how you were doing.”
“You never do that unless you want something,” you counter, looking at him. Your eyes are swollen, but Toji doesn’t know if it’s from crying or some other reason, and you smell like three day old clothes. Your gaze searches his, then flutters to a slightly crooked nose, to his lips, to the scars littering his chest. “I’ve known you for years. You disappeared on me, and you came back with a son and a new name, and I never asked questions, but you had to have known.”
“Known what?”
You don’t answer him. Toji isn’t sure if he’s grateful or irritated for it. “What happened to you, you idiot?” Your tone is somber, unbearably faint. It makes your words that much more nauseating. “Why did you come back to me?” He blinks, staring, and your gaze lowers. You quietly tag something to the end of your sentence only to yourself and he is punched by every syllable of the word you utter, every syllable you aren’t aware he can hear.
“Fushi-guro, huh.”
Sliding off the examination table, you smooth out your scrubs and make to leave. “Never mind. I think I’m just exhausted.”
You reach the door handle. He watches. Footsteps softened by the sound of your crocs, you don’t bother to hide the effects of him keeping you overtime at three AM in the morning, because he’s bleeding and soiled and disgusting, has done to your spirit.
“I got married,” he calls, halting you by the door. Your shoulders have fallen, and your hand on the door goes limp. Toji stares at your back, and wonders when he became so intimately aware of the slope of your shoulders and how they sink even more in defeat when you understand what he’s saying. “She died when Megumi was… nine months old? I dunno. Blood disease, some shit like that.”
Your head turns enough that he can see a sliver of your face—you look pretty in the dim lights of the exam room. All soft edges, sad melted honey at the bottom of cold tea. Forgotten, distasteful. Like you can hold him carefully, and none of the jagged pieces he’s made of will slice your palms open. You look so much younger.
Like the nineteen year old you were when he came to you in that room of purple silk and candlelight. So tender. Human. It’s been nearly ten years since then, and it feels so much longer.
“I’m so sorry,” you tell him, and he knows you mean it.
You leave to change, and come back to find him waiting in the receptionist area, a shadow in the pitch black as you set the security alarm before you go.
“Get out,” you tell him again, and this time, he complies and waits for you in the chilly night instead.
Toji walks you home, despite your unvoiced protest, and he pretends he doesn’t notice that his hand brushes against yours until their index fingers are hooked onto one another. Your gaze flits to him every once in a while, but he merely rakes his other hand through his hair, lips puckered around a smoke before he’s sliding that trembling hand of yours into his pocket.
“Megumi’s still asleep,” you tell him at the door. He leans over without meaning to as he watches your hands fiddle with the lock and key. Turning over your shoulder, you catch him staring, and arch an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing.” And he looks away.
You open the door and walk in, turning back when he doesn’t follow. Scowling, you swing your door open wider as you toe off your sneakers. “Are you coming in or not?”
He frowns. “Yeah, sure.”
Tonight, Toji’s not in the mood for sex, and you can barely stand on your two feet without swaying, so while you go to shower, he heads for the guest room that’s been changed into a makeshift bedroom for a two-year old boy who’s fast asleep, his snores filling up the room when Toji pushes in, careful to not let too much light seep in.
Sneaking across to the crib, he reaches within to pick up his son, and Megumi, never the fussy child, only lets out a little noise of complaint before falling back asleep on Toji’s shoulder. He pats Megumi’s back, pacing around the room and gently bouncing him up and down into a deeper sleep. The walls are littered with terrible drawings Megumi’s made, but they’re hung like art pieces in the Louvre, and Toji stands by the column of light the door lets in, watching the sharp shadows it carves.
Everything still, he waits for something to appear.
Nothing.
Sticking out a hand, he splits his fingers into a shadow puppet of a dog, and opens its jaws a few time in a silent bark.
He knows his son has the Technique. He’s seen the hints of it ever since Megumi turned two—shadows flickering when Megumi claps his hands together, the Cursed Energy Toji can sense radiating off of the kid. It won’t be long before some rat starts looking for the inheritor of the Ten Shadows Technique as their new prince.
He sighs. It’s just another thing from his shitshow family to worry about.
“I’ve got blankets and pillows on the couch,” you tell him by the door, and he drops his hand, heat rushing up his face as you poke your head in to see him. Although he can’t make out your expression too well, Toji knows he doesn’t imagine the way your eyes soften when you look at Megumi. “I’m going to go to bed now. See you in the morning. Maybe.”
He nods, and you slip out of the room just as quickly, your bedroom door shutting a moment later.
He heads to the living room, shedding his jacket and collapsing on the couch with a tired groan. The only light is moonlight filtering through your vertical blinds. His shoulder still burns something fierce, the numbing gel wearing off, and he cups it, rolling onto his side. Through the bandages, he can feel the even stitches you’ve knitted into his flesh, the delicate accuracy of the thread and needle.
Staring at the table, he blinks at the tablets resting on a napkin right in front of him beside a glass of water, and he sits up.
The pill bottle rests nearby, and he grabs it, eyeing the ingredients. It’s some over-the-counter pain killers, but there’s sharpie that’s covered a lot of the text. Screwing up his eyes, he makes out the first character, and, as his eyes adjust to the darkness, holds up the bottle to the faint moon so he can read the rest of it.
FOR MY HEARTACHES. DO NOT TOUCH.
Eyebrows scrunch. His eyes run it over it again to see if he’s being fucking crazy and reading into it too much.
He shoves the bottle back onto the table before he can do it one more time and grabs the pills, uncaring if the water spills as he gulps them down, shaking his head at the iciness that seeps into his blood from the water.
Throwing himself back onto the couch, he punches the pillow into shape, and rolls onto his back, haphazardly tossing the blanket over himself and slamming his eyes shut in an effort to block out your neat, slanted writing.
“…I never asked questions, but you had to have known.”
The pain in his shoulder dulls, but there is nothing that can douse the cold fire of his own hatred.
.
“For your heartache?” he asks the morning after like it’s a talk one should have over the coffee he holds in his hand. You’re making yourself oatmeal after spending the first hour or so throwing up. You look ragged, and you glare at him for even speaking.
Toji sets the pill bottle down, and he watches your expression carefully. Your jaw clenches, and you roll your eyes, stirring honey into your hot breakfast.
“Painkillers that work best for heartburn,” you tell him flatly, snatching the pill bottle and returning it to where it normally rests. “I got this at like two AM a few weeks ago. Why, what’s wrong with it?”
Your heart skips. He ignores the slowly speeding rhythm of your heart echoing in his own chest. “Just never pegged you for the poetic type.”
“Oh, because you peg me for so many other things. Please get your head out of your ass.”
The tension that melts out of his body is profuse, and his shoulders fall as Megumi, with his spoon, flicks cereal at his father with a giggle. And although the relief is overwhelming, there is a peculiar sinking feeling that far outweighs any positive connotation in the fact that he thought you could’ve liked him and your confirmation that you don’t.
He’s insane.
He’s insane to have thought you could have possibly…
“You’re cleaning this up,” you order. “I need to go to work and I can’t be late. We’ll… talk later. I guess.”
…ever had feelings for him.
Toji goes to fetch some towels and ignores the fact that his insides feel like rotting. What’s it matter anyway?
Except…
No. He’s not thinking of back then. That’s a section of his past he wants to keep sealed in the past, and thats final.
.
His son wants to go to the park one day. It’s how Toji finds himself sitting on a park bench, sipping on his iced lemonade, his son on his thigh watching everyone around them, his tiny hands planted on his father’s knee. Said father scrolls on his phone, reading his emails through his shades, but he always makes sure to kepe an eye out on their surroundings.
Opening up some bets, he leans back, settling his free hand on Megumi’s hip and raising his phone up as he looks through the races.
“I want,” Megumi babbles.
“What do you want, ‘Gumi?” he asks, squinting against the sun. He should be getting results back for his last gamble in just a few minutes.
“I want dog.”
“Yeah?” Toji says as he lowers his phone and looks around them. “You wanna big one? How many?” There are a few dogs playing in the park around them, catching balls their owners through (“Go fetch!”) and a strange bitterness arises from him. He’s never been a dog person. Not with how he was raised to see them.
Loyal beasts with no brain of their own.
“Two!”
Meant to serve.
“Go fetch, dog. ”
Mindless.
“Papa.”
“And you dare call yourself my son?”
“Papa.”
His phone buzzes, and he answers it like a habit. A swipe of his thumb. Behind his eyes flash a thousand purple bruises, and his scar aches like a sore on his lip as he lets out a tired breath.
“You were a mistake. You should’ve never been born.”
His world is so strangely silent. A curious, spreading emptiness seeps down the column of his throat and into his chest, inhabiting the giant space like a cloud of smoke as the line clicks, and he blinks at the sky. How many days had he stared at this sky, waiting for his world to grow infinitely bigger?
To escape that wretched place once and for all. He had the gall to do it, and the pit of curses had been colder than death.
If he could’ve just—
“Toji?”
—given up.
“Hey.”
Your voice pierces the haze and he blinks, looking around. Megumi is clutching onto hs shirt with a tight fist, peering at him with frustration, and he uses his other hand to smack his dad in the chest.
“You there?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. He sets a hand on Megumi’s head. His hair is so soft, and warm under the sun, and Toji wants to wrap his entire body around his tiny little boy, so he does the next best thing and hauls Megumi up onto his chest and swathes him with an arm. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nah. Why would you think that?”
“I dunno. You just sound off.”
“I’m fine. Can’t I enjoy a nice day in the park?” he remarks dryly, and you huff a snide, sarcastic laugh.
“I guess you can. I was just wondering if you had plans in September.”
“That’s still a few weeks away.” He can hear your judgemental expression from where he sits so he adds, “No. Not yet. Why?”
“The Kichijoji Autumn Festival. I want to take Megumi.” You seem to speak to someone on the other end, and Toji looks down at his son who’s craned his head to examine everything around him. He wriggles until he’s facing forward, and Toji kisses the back of his son’s head grumpily. The idea of a big crowd never sits well with him. There are too many unseen variables, and too much noise.
“Doggy,” Megumi rambles, pointing out a stubby finger at a bounding labrador, trying to catch a frisbee with a massive leap and snagging it in its jaws.
“Is that okay?”
“What? Yeah. I’m going with you, though.”
“Fine. Yeah, alright! I’ll print it!” you shout away from the phone. With a tired sigh, you return. “Fucking idiot. Sorry. Work.” He shrugs, then says it’s fine, and you continue: “Are you going to be working a lot? I’m heading down to Osaka next week so I can’t take care of Megumi if you’re working.”
“Why?”
“Because… remember Hajime?”
“Skinny fuck with a big mouth. Talked too much.” A tall, lean guy who used to fuck with Toji as a teenager whenever he came to see you. He vaguely has an image of him in his head—cheeky smile, quick gaze, and an arrogance that was all a charade. The kid always knew when to shut up but he never did.
Maybe because he didn’t care. Toji had never seen his own pit eyes reflected in another boy before then, but Hajime still knew how to look like he was happy. Maybe that’s why Toji always let the boy bother him even when he was working maintenance around the House.
He doesn’t think Hajime has ever smiled a day in his life. So, just like him, Toji knows your spot for your old colleague from the brothel is softer than you let on.
“He’s not doing well,” you reveal. “I just want to be there when he passes and make it all easier for him. That’s all.”
His throat goes dry. “I see.” The unspoken question passes between them.
“Lung cancer metastasized.” You don’t let that sit for long. “So, it’ll probably be a bit before I see Megumi next.”
Words bite his tongue, and he debates letting them loose. But he wouldn’t. He’d never admit to it. “Probably. He’ll be fine, though.”
“I know.” A beat. “I’m just gonna miss him, you know. I want to see him before I leave.”
“Yeah.” And because it isn’t enough that you’ve been on the phone with him for this short while, he prolongs your hanging up with: “Yeah, you can do that. When do you go?”
“This Saturday. It was the first train I could get, so—” There’s a loud shout on the other end, and your pained groan— “Shit, sorry, I have to go. People don’t know how to do their fucking jobs around here,” you mutter foully, and Toji can’t help the small smile that stretches his lips. “See you when I see you.”
“Yeah.” The line clicks. Toji holds his phone there for a second more before drawing it away and staring at the his screen, His thumb swipes over the buttons to select his contacts, and it opens up to reveal lists of numbers in his history. They’d all been jobs, and he never bothers to write them down. The important numbers are memorized, but other than that, he’s never really kept a contact since he started working again.
Swiping to his saved contacts, there is one square there with a picture, and your name typed out in that little block font. Toji’s grip tightens as he clicks on your profile to enlarge the photo, and he scowls deeper at what it’s been set to. Rarely do they exchange photos, but the majority of the photos you ever send Toji are of Megumi, and in this one, it’s him sleeping soundly in your lap when he was still little.
Maybe ten months. He knows it’s a little after Megumi’s mom died because of how small his son is, and how Toji can’t remember this picture. That whole time period had been hazy. He had just focused on finding you, dumping his kid somewhere so he didn’t have to see the state his father was in, and going out to make enough money to make it last another fucking week.
A part of Toji knows now that you would never have turned him away even if you acted like you would. Even if he never had a baby with him.
He snaps his phone shut. Your words still haunt him, and the more he dissects that moment—a sliver of a 3AM morning two weeks ago—he starts to wonder if he made another wrong choice eight years ago.
.
Here is where Toji finds himself Friday night: forced to do dishes while Megumi clings to your chest like a stupid fucking parasite. You lounge on the couch, relaxing your ass off.
To be fair, and Toji rarely is, you had been called in an emergency consultation which resulted in you having to send your patient to the hospital after you couldn’t find out where the pain was coming from, and staying there because the patient had, quote unquote, no support system and was borderline hysterical with the symptoms.
“She said she had these bruises on her legs and hips like someone was grabbing her, but I couldn’t find anything. I can’t deny that her pain is real—there’s no way she’s faking this for attention because she’s… sane. She knows she’s not making any sense and we had psych do an evaluation,” you had told him when they met up in front of your apartment door. He had takeout in one hand, and Megumi in the other as you jiggled the key in. “Nothing. It’s a mystery. Maybe she’s experiencing some type of phantom pain routed from trauma.”
And Toji knows the answer before you even suggest a logical conclusion.
“She still there?” he had asked.
“Sent her home. No valid medical reason, but I told her I’ll be away, and to call me if she needs anything.”
He scrubs the dish with a dinosaur design a bit too hard, and winces when he sees that the pink colour is fading, but other than that, it remains silent on his end of the apartment. You and Megumi have a nonsensical conversation at the couch and you turn on channel that has dogs on it somehow as he finishes up. He sniffs dish detergent scent clinging to his hands, nostrils twitching at how strong the lemon is before shaking his head and rinsing his hands again.
“Doggy.”
“Yeah. That’s what those are,” comes your lazy reply. Turning around, Toji wipes his hands dry to see you lying on your side on the couch, Megumi sitting in front of your chest. You have your arm draped over his lap and wrapping his waist loosely, but you look asleep where you are. Snorting to himself, he throws the towel down and shuts off the lights in the kitchen.
You raise your head blearily at the dim light you’ve sunken into.
“You finished?”
“Are you?” he shoots back, sinking into the loveseat near your head. You sigh, burying your face into a nearby cushion, and Megumi crawls towards his father, your hand falling to the sofa. “Go to bed if you’re tired.”
“I’m not tired,” you mutter. “I’m just sick of today.”
He picks his son up, setting Megumi on his chest and running his hand over his head. The boy’s dark downy hair spikes up, and Toji tucks his chin to press his nose to a smooth forehead. “Girl still on your mind?”
“Mhm.” You crane your head to look at both of them, and your stressed scowl melts away, the knot between your eyebrows easing as you reach across the gap to tickle Megumi’s tiny socked foot. Squealing, he kicks your hand away and you chuckle to yourself, pushing yourself onto your elbow to tickle him again.
Crawling up his dad, Megumi’s chubby fists seek purchase as he scrambles to get away, and you laugh, a short, rusty noise. It sounds like a tool that doesn’t get used enough, and you cover your mouth when you laugh, a habit that Toji’s noticed you’ve kept over the years. Megumi’s complaining in his ear, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the way your eyes crinkle when they shut from smiling.
Despite the eye bags, the way your cheeks have gotten puffy from throwing up, the way you shift every two seconds because something in your body’s upset one way or another—Toji finds the way your eyes smile the most brain-numbing thing. He could stare at it forever, but it’s so fleeting that he has the strangest urge to frame it in a picture. Considering rare is it that you’re ever smiling at him when Megumi isn’t with him (although it’s becoming more and more frequent these days), Toji doesn’t think he could’ve gotten used to your smile again.
When he was nineteen, directionless and searching for a place to make it through one day, you had bordered him up in your closet and asked the master of the house with your most charming smile to keep him around because “he’s real handy if he puts his mind to it. Just give him a chance—“
Toji swallows. Such an uncomplicated series of days. His mind always gets so fucking quiet around you. He doesn’t worry about the past, or the future, or any of the stresses of the present (money, food, whether he’ll survive his next contract and the next, long enough to teach Megumi how to throw a ball).
No, his mind is just blissfully silent, resting in the way your words bite at his ears, the way your laugh strums like a raspy harp.
He doesn’t recall the last time it’s been this quiet as the dogs on the TV bark and Megumi echoes the noise, a sprite of light in the darkness of the living room. It makes you laugh. Makes him hear that warm noise again.
“Put him to bed,” you utter after a while. The documentary has finished, and your voice cracks as you wake up fully. Toji blinks, ripping his eyes away from the screen to see your sleepy face illuminated by the TV. Megumi’s gone quiet, his gentle snores puffing against his father’s jaw. “I’m gonna get into my own.”
“Alright.” He stands and you swing yourself up, tipping over a bit, and his knees lock when the urge seizes him to move forward to steady you. Stomach clenching, a harsh frown passes over his face and he turns around before you can spot it. Walking down the hall, he puts his baby boy to bed just as your shadow passes over the door. You poke your head in to mumble a goodnight again, before continuing on your way. Toji sits by his son’s bed until he falls asleep before he rises again.
Closing the door behind him, Toji glances to your bedroom. There’s still a lamp on, and he wonders if you’ve just forgotten to turn it off (again), or if you’re still awake despite your previous promise, and for some reason, his feet lead him to this door.
His hand raises to knock.
“Yeah?” you answer. He pushes in.
You’re on the bed, pushing your feet under the covers. You’re wearing nothing but a long shirt, and your face is soft, tired. You can barely keep your eyes open, and maybe that is what makes you so warm to him now. You don’t have the energy to be angry with him, their situation, for anything.
“Toji?” you prompt, and he, without a second of hesitation, crawls into bed after you. Your brow furrows as he plants a hand by your thigh, but there is no defense as he pulls the covers away to get under with you. “What is it?”
“I’m staying here tonight. Making sure you don’t fuck yourself over for tomorrow,” he says simply, but the truth is, he hadn’t known that until he said it. Pulling his shirt off, he flings it to the foot of the bed and gets comfortable in his boxers underneath the coolness of your blankets. He’s always ran hotter than most. You keep yourself an appropriate distance, rolling onto your side to face him while he lies on his back.
This isn’t a very common occurence. Toji doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he settles with just lacing them over his stomach, and when he turns to look at you, he finds you frowning thoughtfully.
“What’s wrong, Toji?” you prod quietly, resting your cheek on one of your hands. His eyelids flutter, invisible weight pushing them shut as he tries to scramble up an explanation. “We don’t do… this.”
“I’m just tired, I guess,” he grunts. Because, really, he has no idea why he’s here.
Why he’s in your apartment, in your life again. He left it for a reason.
“Okay,” you murmur. Your hand reaches to touch his bicep, and he can’t really remember that reason anymore. “My train’s early, so you’ll probably have to lock the door for me if you’re staying.”
You just rest your fingers there over the curve of his arm, thumb applying a soothing pressure into his eternally-aching body. Toji can feel your heat so clearly through your palm. A napalm grenade waiting to burst as soon as he lays a hand on you.
And he does, not even seconds later, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to him.
“Stay here and sleep with me,” he whispers as your nose bumps into his, and it edges on an order without him meaning to. You swallow, exhaling shakily, and his eyes lift to yours. They’re dark, half-lidded but consumed with an unbearable desire for something that he doesn’t understand. Lifting a lethargic hand, he rests it heavily on your cheek. You arch an eyebrow, and he half-smiles limply, hauling you closer.
You push yourself on top of him, sitting yourself over his hips, and fold your arms over yourself, fingers tugging at the lip of your shirt. Toji’s gaze widens as you lift it up to reveal a body he already knows every crevice of and he clenches his jaw, dark hair falling into his eyes. Hand shooting to grab your elbow, he stops you just as you slip your head and shoulder out, the shirt hanging off your other arm.
Your breasts are open for him to swing up and kiss, to bite marks into, and they heave gently as you breathe on top of him, perfectly still, your face a whirlwind of emotions as you try to make sense of him. He slides his hands down to your hips, and he presses his finger pads into your back in what he means as a soothing pressure. You let out a tiny sigh, wiggling a bit, and glance down at yourself.
Your brow furrows. “Do… you not want to?”
“No, no, I…” He sighs, one hand reaching up to tilt your chin back up so you would stop staring at your body like that. You can’t ever think that—Toji won’t allow himself to let you go on thinking that you’re ugly. “It’s not that. I just didn’t mean it like that.”
“Huh?” You frown. He lets go of your chin and trails his hand down your chest, eyes watching his own fingers drift past your belly button until he rests on your abdomen. His lungs seize at the way it rises and falls against his palm. The fat he normally loves to grab and smear kisses all over while your legs shake over his shoulders is so familiar in his grasp. You’re still not showing though. Sometimes, Toji forgets that there’s a fucking kid—his fucking kid—growing inside you, but right now, it’s all he’s intimately aware of.
“It came out wrong.” He grimaces. “I meant… I’ll sleep with you. In the same bed tonight.” He strokes your stomach before grabbing the back of your neck and bringing you down to his level. Bending over, your lips meet his warmly, and you melt into his grasp, legs stretching over his, waist unfurling to lay flush against his body. Your arms sink into the pillow, and your fingers seek purchase in the fabric. Thumb on your chin, he gently pulls your back and he drags his nose along yours, inhaling the smell of your body wash. “Just sleep,” he mumbles against your mouth. “You need to rest.”
You pull away. “Just…?” The pause is audible. You shake the shirt off your arm and he wraps his arms around you, using one of his hands to run over your head.
Toji wants to punch himself, face burning up in embarrassment. “Lay here and sleep. For fuck’s sake, you’re pregnant, aren’t you? Don’t expectant mothers have to make sure they get enough sleep?”
You push yourself up onto your elbows, face wrinkling. “Well, I, uh, yeah, but—“
“Then, sleep. I’ll wake you up, alright?” Toji pushes you off his body and you let out a soft chuckle, shimmying underneath the blankets. As soon as you’re comfy, he yanks the comforter over your exposed body, making sure you’re covered up, before scowling and reaching over you to switch the light off.
As soon as the room plummets into darkness, a hand slides along his jaw, and another grabs his chin. He looks down just in time for a pair of lips press against his warmly and it isn’t long before their lips are on one another’s, mouths slotting open to allow tongues to dip into mouths. Falling onto his back, Toji’s hand cups the back of your neck and you roll onto your side, your leg draping over his waist, your arms bent between their chests, palms flat against his neck.
Your thigh tightens around him as a soft panting breath leaves you in the form of, “Goodnight.” Toji’s foot slides up your calf. He strokes your ear and you’re resting your head on his other arm, so there isn’t much he can do besides pull you even closer by the shoulders until their bodies are semi colons of one another.
The break—the time to breathe—in each other’s life sentences.
You slither an arm around him. His arm curls around to your back. Their noses touch, and Toji lets out a comfortable sigh before kissing you. Your eyes shut as you mumble something incomprehensible about sleeping. Tiny moans escape your throat when he slowly kisses your bottom lip in a seductive, soothing drag, and another soft whimper sinks into his heart when he kisses the corner of your mouth, your lips chasing his. You whine something barely resembling his name as you tilt your head in an effort to try to reciprocate, a habit more than a choice.
Toji nearly laughs at you, at the thought of it.
He kisses your chin instead, a wave of exhaustion slowly tiding into his pool of a body, then he returns his lips to yours, kissing you slowly. Sedated. Oozing like molasses into the next kiss, and then another, and the strength begins to leave him as your arm twitches against his body with every press, your leg squeezing over his waist. You’re panting, soft and needy, and your body wants to move, but you’re so tired you have to settle for the exhausted sounds you can muster to encourage him.
Like you want him to keep going, want him to know you’re still paying attention to him, even in your dreams.
You murmur something again. Something hushed in your breath.
“Toji…”
So soft. It reminds him of when they were younger. You were the first person he remembers uttering his name so gently—so undeservingly warm while his heart was trapped in an eternal blizzard. You said it like you meant to—like he deserved to be someone.
Against his will, something warm flickers in his hollow chest.
.
The woman is quiet as she stares at him, blinking owlishly in the way most non-jujutsu types do. Ota Hiroko, twenty-three. Lives with her mom, two younger brothers, and her grandfather. He’d found her pretty quickly, all things considered. You’d only given a name, mumbled into your pillow just to shut him up for five more minutes, but as soon as you’d gotten on your train, Toji had gone to work.
“Can I help you?” Hiroko asks thinly. She looks exhausted, pale, and she’s shaking as she’s holding onto the door knob. Toji almost pities her.
“You Hiroko?”
She nods, then presses her lips into a thin grimace. “Whatever you’re selling, whoever you are, I’m not interested.”
Toji cocks an eyebrow, and shifts his weight to one side, scanning what little of house he can see over her head. It reeks of Cursed Energy. No doubt what’s made its home here.
“I don’t even know why I bother.” He cocks his head, arches an eyebrow. “Could you stop hiding behind that door? I’m a friend of your friend’s. The doctor from the clinic, remember her?”
The girl’s eyes light up at the mention of you, and she stops clutching onto the door barricading her from him like a shield and reveals herself a bit more. As soon as he can see one of her legs, he sees a pale, bumpy, and gnarled hand wrapped tightly around the woman’s waist, the arm winding around her thigh.
“Did she send you? She said… she said she wouldn’t be in town, but—” The door swings open wider, and Hiroko leans forward, eyes widening with a sheen of desperation. Toji looks down at the Curse pressing its face into the woman’s stomach, and a coil of disgust wraps around his own gut. “Does she know what’s wrong with me?”
“No, but close your eyes for a second.” She frowns, and Toji resists the urge to slap some sense into this girl. Taking a deep breath, he reaches for the dagger tucked into the back of his pants, and thinks of something nicer. Or tries to. Nothing clear comes to mind, and his words come out sharp, impatient. “Lady, I can do it with your eyes open, but you won’t like it.”
“Do what?”
“Fix your problem.” Fingers wrap around the handle, and then he thinks of you, sleeping on the train to Osaka. He wonders, idly, if you ate.
Hiroko frowns, her head tilting. She looks sweet, really, and maybe a bit too naive, but Toji can see why she pulled at your heartstrings.
“Why are you doing this?”
He hasn’t a clue. “A favour,” he answers shortly. “Now, close your eyes.”
(recapitulation)
Stepping into the home, you slip off your flats and stuff them into the slippers, the grip on your bag of groceries tightening. The air smells sterile, dry, and it’s hauntingly silent, but you’ve grown used to it ever since you arrived two days earlier.
Announcing that you’re back, you migrate to the kitchen and set the groceries on the table, delegating what needs to be put into the fridge and freezer, setting the loaf of bread on the wooden board for later.
“Is that you?”
“Yeah.”
Closing the fridge once you’ve put away the vegetables and milk and juice, you continue onto frozen snacks and meat into the freezer. Then, you grab a bag of chips, a cup of water, and move to join your friend in whatever he’s doing. You shuffle down the hall where Hajime is already sitting up in what used to be the living room. The TV is on, some program you’re not exactly caught up on but he insists he can’t miss every Monday playing, so you had made him make a list of things he wanted to eat before leaving while he entertains himself with some melodrama.
Ever since his terminal diagnosis, Hajime’s moved his entire life to the first floor of his parents’ house, but that doesn’t mean it makes life any easier. Bypassing the pictures of his family, you sit down and rip open the bag of vegetable chips, tilting it towards him. Throwing aside his blanket, Hajime lets out a rough cough before reaching his hand in. You set it on his lap and touch the blankets pooling around his legs. It’s heated, the electric currents setting the soft fabric near-aflame against your skin, and your heart drops.
Making space for yourself on the couch, you adjust the pillows around yourself and get comfortable, putting the cup of water on a nearby table. On the screen, some people in scrubs are in a conference room shouting at one another, and you rest your cheek against your fist, raising an eyebrow.
“What’s going on?”
“Hospital chief was revealed to cheat on wife with one of his top residents.”
“Damn.”
“Anything this juicy where you work?”
You snort. “No.”
You think of Toji, and wonder what he’s doing. Your phone buzzed for the last time this morning, when he texted you to make sure that you were still alive, and you promised you’d call him tonight, his job permitting. Your heart clenches at the last night they spent together. The way he had kissed you to sleep, and you had woken before him anyway, his finger curled under your jaw, his chin atop your head.
Your heart warms against your will, and then aches because you miss him. Which you hate to admit, but you do. You’ve long since accepted that your soft spot for the guy has returned stronger, darker. Part of it because he’s older now, they’re both grown, but another part of it is because he’s the same.
The same man who tries to protect you at any given turn, who steals your food, who gives you a little dysfunctional family even though he doesn’t know it.
“You’re all smiles,” Hajime intones suddenly, and you blink, turning to look at him. He’s sunken into the pillows surrounding his body, and he eyes you with an unimpressed disposition.
“Am I? I’m not in a good mood.”
“Because you drew the short end of the stick and came all the way out here,” he remarks, and your mouth opens to protest but he speaks over you, “Hey, you didn’t have to. You probably have a whole life I don’t know about anymore back in the city, don’t you.”
“I’m surprised you even called,” you admit softly. “After I left… I never thought you’d try to find me again.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t change your number.”
“I didn’t change it just in case you’d call.” His eyes widen and soften, and he looks away, throat bobbing as he swallows. You add, “You were my only friend there, and I promised when I left that you could always find me if you ever needed me, and you need me now, so I might be pissed that you’re dying, but I’m not letting you die alone, alright?”
A beat.
“You’re a big softie, y’know that?” Hajime teases, but his voice is unusually thick. You give him grace and watch the TV as he clears his throat. “Underneath all that bitchiness, you actually care about me, don’t you?”
“Nah,” you say, but your voice is weak, thin. “Just for nostalgia’s sake at this point.”
.
They’re sitting on the balcony of his old room, in two rickety plastic lawn chairs that are weather-worn and cheap. You had carried him up there because there’s no way he’s strong enough to move, but just sitting here feels strange. You’d never known Hajime like this—never the type of friends to visit each other’s places.
Then again, that was back before he forced himself to get back onto better terms with his parents before they passed away. Before you just up and left him.
“Want one?” he asks, offering the box of cigarettes to you. His eyes are bloodshot, and his hand trembles. It’s not cold out, and it won’t be long, you think. You just have a feeling. You’re going to wake up and he’ll be dead.
“I’m good.”
“Never knew you to be someone who refuses a smoke.” He lights up and inhales. You steel yourself for the coughing fit that seizes him suddenly, and you try to pretend it’s not agonizing hearing him hurt like this. It dissolves into a fit that has him gasping, and you dart over, take hold of him as he curls in on himself, the bare bones of his skeleton poking at you through his skin. “F-fuck. Fuck. I’m… I’m fine. J-just—“
“Here. C’mon. You got this.” His heart is racing through his back, and you slowly ease him to the floor, so there’s more room, until he’s lying against you, his head tilted back onto your shoulder. His chest heaves rapidly, pumps of oxygen barely making it through to his diseased lungs, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets the red slip between his lips, down his chin.
Thick globs of dark red. It shines, rivulets that escape down his chin, to his neck. Over his quivering Adam’s apple, his lips parted; wine rose petals, tasting just as sour.
"I don’t smoke anymore,” you say, patting his chest with your hand that’s draped over his shoulder. With your other hand, you shake your sleeve down over your hand and wipe the blood away from his skin. “I’m… I’m pregnant. So, I can’t smoke.”
“Pregnant?”
“Mhm.” You look down, and stretch your arm so your sleeve falls back to your wrist before patting his head.
“It’s Toji’s?”
A lump in your throat. “Yes.”
“…I see.” Hajime turns his face away from you, and a shadow—no, that’s the wrong word—an empty void consumes his face. It makes him look young and weak and alone—everything he doesn’t want to be.
“Yeah,” he finally adds at last. “You never did get over him.” The world goes mute as he laughs to himself, a soft noise that makes his eyelids flutter. “I’m glad that you came for my last moments even though he’s back. Y’know, I’m pretty sure he hates me.”
“Toji hates everyone,” you snort, ignoring the rot taking root in your chest. You drum your fingers on Hajime’s collarbone, sighing. “It’s him against the world so don’t take it too personally.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
You chuckle. “I guess he can’t hate the person who takes care of his son seventy percent of the time.”
“He likes you,” Hajime corrects, and there is something in the phrasing—perhaps in the tone he says it in (like it’s the most obvious, simple thing in the world)—that flips a switch in your brain. Those three words take root in your head and even though your brow wrinkles and you frown and you shake your head, you still hear those three words.
He likes you. “No, he doesn’t. All we do is fight.”
“You’re the one who convinced the Master to let him stay and”—a sharp whistle. He likes you—“there were more than a few complaints about the muscle outside your room. Y’know,” he laughs again, “they always thought we didn’t need to be protected, but Toji… and don’t let him know I said this, but he made it better. He scared ‘em off. He did.”
Your fingers brush over Hajime’s temple. “I know.” Hajime twists to look up at you through barely-open eyes, and his breaths are flimsy against your neck, as you look down at him, smiling faintly. “Toji was probably the closest thing to a friend I had. Besides you. And the other workers there. But it wasn’t like we were buddies. We were sex workers and he… wasn’t. He was just some guy who lived there.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Hajime’s cheek presses against your sternum. “I guess, he did do some handiwork, and you weren’t the personable type. You still aren’t.”
You snort. “Gee, thanks.”
“It takes a special kind of person to really, really understand you and—“
“Are you really inflating your own ego right now?”
“—and you didn’t want to be there for the rest of your life. Which was fine. But you closed your heart off because you didn’t want anyone to know how you ever worked to put yourself through school, which is fine, but he is the only one you ever opened yourself up to—“
“Okay, and?”
“And he likes you. You’re not half as oblivious as you think you’re being, but neither is he.”
“You don’t know that. You haven’t seen him in years,” you intone scathingly, but Hajime leans back, smiling, immune. He likes you. You shove him off you and get up. “You’re only saying that because you pity me. Just forget it, Hajime.”
Coughing, your friend wheezes out, “He’s texted you how many times since you’ve came here?”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“You’re playing house with the guy.”
“I babysit his son while he fucks off to god knows where. Do you think he really sees me as anything other than the person who gives him free stitches and puts a roof over his head whenever he wants? I don’t even know why we keep fucking. I don’t why I can’t say no.” You want to tear your heart out of chest and stuff it into Hajime’s mouth just to end the conversation. You walk to the end of the balcony while your dying companion clambers to his feet, grunting, hands clawing at the railing.
“You refused to see anyone else ever again after he left the House,” he wheezes. “You want me to believe that you don’t love him? Then, explain that.”
“That place robbed me of any sort of love. I hate you.” The wind carries and caresses your neck, stronger than Hajime’s own breathing, and you scratch at the nagging feeling, that itchiness spreading into your arms and making you uncomfortable in your cotton shirt. “And I hate him, too.”
“If he didn’t care about you, he would have left already. You know that,” Hajime utters softly, and you close your eyes. “You know he feels something for you. You’re too intelligent to turn a blind eye to that.”
“He’s in love with his dead wife.” The breath that leaves you takes everything you’re made of with it. He likes you. “I’m not going to compete with the person who gave him Megumi. I respect her memory too much to do that.”
“She’s dead,” Hajime murmurs. “And you’re still alive. What does it matter that he loved her? Why can’t it matter that he loves you?”
Can’t you understand? You want to scream in his face. He chose to stay for her.
.
At night, you make sure Hajime falls asleep before drawing yourself up for a vigil, blanket around your sinking shoulders. His breaths are frail, shuddering, and every time he coughs, you jump and take his slowing pulse. You don’t think you sleep a wink that night. Bones resting in a body that’s melded to the chair, you’re nothing but a pair of eyes trained on a face that you used to see every day.
You don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s lost so much weight and colour, and his hair is so thin and patchy. Hajime always refused to shave it, like he’s clinging onto some last part of the old him that doesn’t have cancer.
Tonight’s the night. It sucks. Everything fucking sucks.
Before he goes, you manage to wake him up. His glassy eyes meet yours, and even near death, there is still that inquisitive gleam to his eyes.
“I don’t hate you,” you murmur. “Really just the opposite. I think I’m dying, too.”
His eyes squint in a smile before slipping shut. He’s too weak to even move his mouth anymore, and you think you’re going to puke.
You miss your old life. It was shitty, and repetitive, and made you repulsed by your own body, but perhaps you wouldn’t be so entirely alone.
You sit by Hajime’s bedside until his heart stops, and when you’re sure he is finally dead, you rise and clear your throat. Sniffing, you head for the surrounding woods.
(coda)
You don’t call him for days. It worries Toji, but you had sent him one last text saying that Ojiro Hajime is dead.
Then, another text.
Arriving 6AM tomorrow. Hope everything’s fine. Will see you soon.
His answer.
Need anything?
You hadn’t answered. He gives you a grace period until ten PM, and when you’re still radio silent despite him calling, Toji packs Megumi into some second-hand pick-up and drives to the tiny city of Matsushima. There’s a certain panic that he tries to contain. Maybe it isn’t human, but when Megumi cries about being exhausted after waking up in a car seat four hours from home, Toji just barely manages the patience to calm his cranky son whilst trying to stuff down the harsh forces punching to his tongue.
A terrible rotting is festering in his gut. You’re either dead, or you’re in danger, or Ojiro’s death had destroyed you to such an extent that Toji needs to make sure you can still function.
He passes the town line, parks in the first place he sees, and gets out of the car, hiding his sidearm underneath the flap of his jacket. Picking up Megumi, Toji’s ears prick for noise.
It’s almost two thirty AM.
You had sent pictures once you arrived. The house is up on a hill. There’s no doubt you’ll still be there in the wake of his death if you’re okay.
So he makes that climb, and smells the wind for any signs of foul play, his one hand supporting Megumi despite being in a baby carrier, and his other hand ready at his handgun. Eyes dart from every stray shadow to another unfamiliar shape. This path is unfamiliar, and although he doesn’t sense any curses, every step makes his stomach coil tighter and tighter.
His steps are silent but hasty as he ascends, and before he knows it, his knuckles are rapping against the door, thunderous knocks that nearly rattle the door off its hinges. There’s the sound of a door opening upstairs before quick footsteps, and he hears you pause to glance into the peephole before the door swings open.
“Toji?” You sound confused, tired, and he grins lopsidedly at the way you still manage to glare at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? It’s late, I—”
“Unhappy to see me?”
Your jaw snaps shut, and you tilt your head to the ground as you mutter, “No. You should come in, though.” At this, your gaze lift to meet his. Exhaustion drags your features to the earth, swallows your eyes whole. “Megumi looks tired.”
“Yeah. He’s gonna be a cranky bastard in the morning.”
Your smile begins to grow, and it brightens your eyes as you slant your body to make room for him to come in. He starts forward, his boot lifting off the ground to step through the threshold of this home. Megumi shifts against his chest. His finger loosens around the safety of his gun.
There is a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. It’s so fast he can barely detect it in time when suddenly, you’re yanked back into the darkness, a black sash wrapped around your mouth. Eyes widening, his heart freezes as a muffled scream wrenches out of your mouth. There’s a thud as the door swings shut, but he shifts his weight back and his foot bursts through the wood, splintering and cracking the night. Megumi lets out a strangled cry at the sudden movement, and Toji’s hand cradles around his son’s head, trying to protect his ears and skull as the smell of Cursed Energy drenches his entire body. It's reek enough for four or five sorcerers at most.
Stepping through the ruined door, he raises his gun into the shadows, blinking the light away. Moonlight streams in behind him, giving shape to objects but the farther away they are, the more they become a monotonous shape. Gritting his teeth, Toji holsters his gun and the Cursed Worm sitting in his stomach is pushed up onto his tongue. He spits it into his palm, guiding it around his neck and when his hand closes near the mouth of the spirit, cold chains push into his fingers.
His ears prick.
Frantic footsteps, fingers scrabble against wood. A muffled struggle echoes down the hall, and despite Megumi’s rasping cries flooding his ears and giving away his location, Toji can’t escape the panicked racing of your heart above it all. He blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before winding up the chain in a sharp spin, trained wrist maneuvering the weapon like an extended limb.
A door creaks. Grunts. Soft socked feet shoot towards him. His eyes dart left. They’ve crashed into a wall. Collapsed, sounds like, and there’s a ragged gasp.
“Stop!” Your voice sends lightning down his very core, and his eyes widen. There’s figures tussling in a shapeless pile of black, and he swears for a moment, he can see your eyes—pits of black illuminated by pale dots of pure white fear—meeting his. “Don’t! Megumi—”
The toddler boy screams as a hand wraps around your face and drags you back into the darkness. It swallows your figure entirely, and Toji begs for his legs to move, but his knees lock and he looks at the wailing bundle strapped to his body, cursing its existence. There’s too much ambiguity in this hallway. He can guess how many cousins and uncles and other off-shoot fucks playing at being royalty are lurking on the grounds. There's three in his immediate presence, but he can’t say for certain what sort of back up awaits a gunfight.
If he draws, you’re dead.
If he doesn’t, you’re lost.
The Zenin family won’t think a non-sorcerer civillian woman is worth the precious Zenin blood that Fushiguro Toji will shed, and cut their losses quick. A man steps out of the shadows as you are taken father and farther away, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the barbed wire gouging his heart.
“We have no quarrel with you, Toji,” Jinichi speaks, and there is that distinct oily disgust that rises when Toji hears his older brother speak. His eyes open to see him standing there, tall and solemn. “We want the girl and the child she carries, and we will care for her well enough to term.”
A harsh scoff. “Please. You’ll pamper her well enough for a prisoner, sure, but as soon as she pops out the kid, you’ll kill her, and the kid, too, if it doesn’t have what you want.”
“Any child of Zen’in blood is welcome. Perhaps she could make a suitable wife for one of our esteemed cousins,” he intones dryly.
A pillar of fire shoots through Toji, and a harsh, cold laugh spills out of his mouth. “You think she’s well-behaved enough to be a wife. You have no fucking idea what she’s like.”
“Toji, don’t make this harder for yourself. I’m showing her mercy because you seem to fond of her, and you’re my brother.” His brother almost smiles, teeth gleaming in the dark. “Besides, that’s my nephew. I am not as wasteful as our father. I won’t spill promising young Zen’in blood.”
“If you’re aiming to play into some kind of sentiment, you’re stupider than I remember.” Toji’s grip on the Chain of a Thousand Miles tightens. Jinichi has always underestimated him. It’s been a decade. Toji is sure, sure he is faster. “Do you still wanna duke it out like the good ol’ days, big bro?”
“You kill me, she dies.” Jinichi turns around, and waves a hand. The Cursed Energy flowing around the house immediately begins to dissipate, and Toji, for the first time in months, thinks about the satisfaction he would feel putting a bullet in his older brother’s head. “You follow us, you’ll never see her again. You know better than most how serious I can be.”
Jinichi of the Hei glances over his shoulder to make sure the Sorcerer Killer does not mean to follow, and then he, too, sinks into the darkness.
.
They cannot stay in that home, so they do not. Toji takes Megumi on foot, and walks until they find a hostel off the side of the road. The guy manning the front desk is alarmed at Toji’s appearance combined with the baby who has cried himself to sleep on his chest, but he doesn’t ask questions.
Sitting on the bed, he sets Megumi down to sleep properly, and tries to ignore the speed of which his heart is beating. His stomach’s flipped over, and a harsh scream wants to explode from his chest as he shoves himself into the cramped shower.
The shower boasts no temperature control, and his skin is red from both ice cold and burning heat when he steps out, wiping at the misted mirror. The scar on his lip has flushed where it crosses his lips, and he tugs at it absently.
They’d take you back to the main estate. Highest security, most isolated location, amongst other things. There was a collection of Curses in that cellar, but they wouldn’t keep you in there. There was no point in putting the pregnancy in jeoprady. They have no idea how far along you are until the doctor can get to you.
But the Zen’in homestead is massive. If you aren’t at the main house, you could be in the acres of woodland surrounding it. No doubt there are hunting cabins, fishing huts, other houses for the branch families to stay in or use that Jinichi could stow you away in. Toji knows some of them, but he hasn’t been home in years.
He’d have to go back to Hajime’s house, pick up a trail.
Toji exits the bathroom, rubbing at his scalp roughly as if that could work out the headache beginning to fester in the centre of his skull.
Or, he could leave. Find a place to disappear to, find a new woman to play house with. A nicer woman. One who wouldn’t make such a fuss every time he so much as breathed. He could. What difference would it make? There’s no reason why he should go back to that hellhole. Why he needs to.
Megumi is holding onto his feet, rolling on his back, and there’s a slow, drifting movement between the beds as he giggles, oblivious to it. Toji reaches for the gun he left on the bathroom counter just as his son sits up to look at him, smiling toothily, and two sets of ears prick behind the mattress.
That night, the Divine Dogs come to his son for the first time. They’re nothing more than young pups, but they’ll grow even larger in time—outmatch the hungriest of wolves and the most monstrous of bears.
But Toji doesn’t need another killer. He’s more than enough.
The shikigami sniff at the place they’ve been summoned to, exploring with keen eyes and wrinkling noses, and Toji stalks forward, crouching in front of the bed and grabbing hold of his son by the shoulders. Megumi lets out a shocked squeal, but he ignores it.
“Megumi,” Toji rasps, stares into those wide eyes. His son has his mother’s face, eyes, nose, mouth, and although it’s agonizing to look at from time to time, Megumi screws up his face the same way you do, and it strikes him now. Why he needs to do this. Why he’s done everything he has for the past few months. “Megumi, I need you to listen to me.”
.
Blood drips off the edge of the his knife as he pushes the door open silently. The figure inside scrambles back, and there’s a frantic, muffled scream as the dogs slither in past his legs. They sniff the air, panting, as Toji pulls his mask down.
The black dog growls a low warning, disappearing into the shadows and there’s the sound of clinking chains as a heavy gasp pierces the darkness.
Moonlight streams into the room, illuminating the white dog returning with a wet cloth that must’ve been a gag pinched between its teeth. Toji steps onto the mat, trying to keep count of the seconds he has before they’re inevitably found.
“Are you alright?” he whispers, struggling to push the desperation, the relief from his voice. His heart quickens as a glimmer of your eye catches his.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you stammer. He can’t see the state of your body just yet, but the fact that you’re talking is a good enough sign. “How did you find me?”
“Dogs. Good sense of smell.” He breaks the chains easily with the hilt of the dagger. “Hold this.” Flipping the knife over, he extends it to you in the darkness, and you let out a grunt, fingers drifting over his own briefly before you lift it from his palm. When he tries to find your waist, your breath flutters against his cheek, but you make no other noise, lifting your head over his shoulder. “Can you stand? We don’t have a lot of time.”
“I think so. Move.” You clutch onto his shoulder and push, and he helps you to your feet as the Divine Dogs lope towards the lip of the room once more, alert and ears pricked for any approachers. “I’m fine. I can walk. I don’t know where we are, though, so I can’t be of much help.”
“That’s fine. Just get behind me and watch my back. We’ve got to get to a safe house.”
“A safe house, huh,” you mutter. “Something that comes with the job.”
Toji can’t help the wry smile twisting his lips, reaffirming his grip on his knife. As they approach the exit, he looks back just to make sure you weren’t lying. Your face is smattered with bruises, cheek swollen, and the side of your head is slick with blood, but your eyes are alert. You reach forward and when your fingers dig into his shoulder strongly, a great knot right in his diaphragm becomes undone.
“Let’s go.”
Slipping out of the room, the two crouch and follow the dogs towards the forested acres surrounding the Zen’in compound. They’ll be able to escape to the river and lose the scent, before doubling back to where they need to go. The nearest safe house is a run-down motel where the owner owes Toji a favour.
They can plan their next moves from there.
“We have to go back to Osaka,” you hiss as they slink into the gardens. It’d be best to avoid leaving a trail of bodies, although the ones Toji hid earlier of the guards near your rooms would soon be found if the incoming patrols were smart. “Hajime’s body is still in the house.”
“Going back there isn’t my priority,” he replies icily. His eyes scan the path by the koi pond. It’s out in the open, but it’s either that or risking making the bushes rustle as they try to skirt around the hedge wall. “C’mon. We’ve gotta be fast.”
Four shadows dart across the silver lawn, disappearing onto the other side of a well-worn stone path. The trickling of the pond chimes, covers their soft steps as they reach the other end without much trouble, following the path to the servant’s quarters on the edge of the estate.
Signalling for a stop, Toji crouches behind a rock statue and you fall in behind him.
“Stick close. We reach the end of this building, and run for the forest.” He tilts his head, peeking around to scan the building. The shadows cast by this place are longer than he remembers, and his heart hammers against his sternum. Swallowing tightly, he closes his eyes for a brief moment. Fists take ahold of his gut, threatening to rip him apart from the inside out. If he stops for a moment, will it all come back to him?
“Toji,” you whisper, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tears his eyes away from the grass. You shuffle closer until your shoulder is pressed against his own, and your fingers ghost over his cheek. “Lead the way. I’ll be right behind you.”
He jerks his head down before ducking around the corner. The servant’s quarters have always been less extravagant than the main house. It is by no means unkempt, but perhaps it’s the best comparison when placed side by side with the luxury. The wood creaks when Toji steps up onto the engawa, and it whines even more as you ascend beside him.
It won’t be long before someone comes searching for the source of the noise but they just have to round the corner. It’ll be thirty-three steps and then a sprint into the woods. Toji’s traced these steps before, twice. He hopes this third pass will be his last.
The dogs sprint forward, the white one a shining silver beacon and the black one its blurred shadow. They’ve almost made it, and with luck, they’ll be far away from here come the morning.
Your breath comes harsh and fast, excited or anxious, he’s not sure. He’s so attuned to it that it floods his senses.
The rhythmic patter of your feet. You’re not far behind. They’re two seconds away from jumping off the veranda. The dogs reach the end of this wooden path. Tails thrashing, ears flat against their heads, they leap.
Then, the white wolf lets out a warning bark, golden glare gleaming like fire in the moonlight.
Toji is running too fast. He can’t think. His instinct is to duck.
His body moves. His knees hit the hard floor, and he slides past the corner of the building just as a shadow of a man appears in the peripheral of his view. Mouth curling into a scowl, he shoots a hand to his gun. Draws.
You’re trying to skid to a stop past him, in front of him. His eyes widen. The gun brushes your side, his finger twitching.
He can’t think. His instinct is to pull the trigger. Launch a bullet through your body, silence that man who will no doubt send all the fury of the Zen’in Clan onto Toji once more.
Blood splatters across his face.
You shove the knife up with a short, sharp huff, piercing through the jaw and up into the brain. before the scream the man was about to let out can escape, and yank the blade out. Blood gushes over your hand in terrifying, oozing waves as Toji surges forward to catch the body, easing it to the ground and grabbing your hand.
They run past, onto plush grass, into the forest and towards the river, and he can hear your frantic breaths, the thunderous echo of your heart. You turn back to look at the corpse, but it’s a fool’s task. You cannot see your work past the crest of the hill they run down.
His hand slips against your skin, but when your fingers wrap tightly around his own, he trusts you not to falter.
They run into the river, and Toji hauls you onto his back for the rest of the way. Your feet brush against the water and your arms tighten around his neck, but you don’t protest like you normally would. Instead, you rest your head down, and let him take you without any questions.
They go downstream, then upstream. The shikigami have since been dismissed by the time they have to go back the way they came. Perhaps Megumi’s fallen asleep, but his son has done more than enough that Toji reminds himself that the next time he wants something, no matter how ridiculous it is, he will seriously consider buying it.
Soaked to his torso, Toji adjusts his girp on your legs wrapped around his waist. You’re shivering against his back, and he catches a glimpse of your face when he cranes his head back enough.
“Fine?”
“Fine.”
“Almost there,” he continues over the gentle flow of the river. “Motel. You can rest there.”
“That supposed to be safe?”
“Know a guy. Occupational acquaintance.”
“How generous.” You bury your face into his neck. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have come for me.”
“Don’t be fucking stupid.” Turning forward, he grimaces when the riverbed sinks, and he hoists you further up his body. He nearly sinks to his chest and you raise your head to look around. You’re remarkably calm. It’ll come crashing down soon. He wants to be within the confines of four walls before that happens. “If you’re awake, make yourself useful and keep an eye out.”
Your dry response pricks at his ears as your hands push up on his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”
.
The motel is a rundown shit-hole.
Well, Toji never claimed himself to be a gentleman.
They’re cooped up in a cramped bathroom as he insisted that he look you over just in case there was Curse damage. The light flicks overhead, which you look at while Toji runs a rag under water.
“They won’t find us here?” you ask blankly. Toji turns and sees your placid face upturned towards him. You watch him with steady eyes that haven’t torn away from him for a moment despite how heavy they must feel. You’re exhausted, but by the way your hands are clenched at your knees, you can’t bare to close your eyes.
“No. They won’t find us.” He crouches before you, and begins to rub at your face. The blood has crusted and flecks off when he touches your temple, and you flinch. “Did that hurt?”
“No. No, they didn’t… it was because I tried to run. They knocked me out.” Your fingers shake uncontrollably as you reach for your head. “Head wounds bleed a lot… I promise, it doesn’t hurt so bad.”
“Don’t feel rattled?”
“Not from a concussion,” you affirm. He gently pushes your hand down, and you let out a long, deep exhale. “They can’t hurt me when I’m carrying their blood, I think is what they said, so I’m okay, I think. I need to go to the clinic to make sure, but I’m okay.”
“You’re not going back there.” Taking hold of your shoulders, he is sure to look into your eye and speak slowly. “I don’t give a fuck about money—we’re not going back to Tokyo."
“We?” you echo. Your lips twist into a bitter scowl, and you push his arms away. “Toji, I don’t even know what happened to me. I got kidnapped because of you? Is that it?”
“Yes,” he snaps. “Because you decided to keep the kid. They found out, and they want that kid more than you probably do.”
“But why? They said something about a technique. Shadows, something.” You shake your head and your eyes narrow as you stand, stepping over and around him. Bracing yourself against the sink countertop, you stare at your own reflection. “What have you not been telling me?”
“A whole slew of things.” He rests on his knees, stretches the rag out to you. You turn to take it and begin to clean up your own complexion as he struggles for words. “A world you don’t know about. My job. You never asked questions.”
“You wouldn’t have wanted to give me any answers,” you retort. You temper your breathing, try to keep it even, but as you see yourself more clearly, Toji hears every painful inhale. Every agonizing hitch in your lungs. “I just wish I could understand.”
“I know. I know this shit doesn’t make sense. It’s not fair.” He shakes his head. “I owe you. I know that.”
“You never pay your debts.”
“That’s true.” A bitter chuckle escapes him. “But you can still… if you get rid of that kid, there’s a chance they won’t touch you.” Your lips part in protest, and you twist to look down at him. Rising, Toji feels gutted raw, everything inside him scooped out and replaced with nothing but sawdust. His joints ache strangely. His throat scratches, his eyes burn. He’s had enough of this sick existence, and he wants to throw up until his guts are clean of glass. “And I’ll disappear. You won’t ever hear from me again.”
Your erratic inhales quiver as he pulls the rag away and lifts his other hand to brush the side of your head. He dabs at the impact wound as you stare hollowly into his chest.
“Do you think that pays back your debt to me?” you ask stonily. “That that even begins to cover what you owe me?”
“No,” he replies. The light flickers overhead. The buzz of old electricity hums between them. “No, but it’s the only way I know how.”
Your eyebrows scrunch when he presses too hard. Your eyelids flutter, but you don’t make a sound. Toji bites his lip hard enough he begins to taste iron, but he can’t speak. He doesn’t trust himself not to say something incredibly, irredeemably stupid.
You save him from that. You save him from so many other foolish things.
“You don’t get to run from me and pretend it’s for my benefit,” you whisper in a dull, dead way. “That’s not going to happen. You understand me? This Zen’in Clan… they’re going to come for Megumi, too, aren’t they? Those dogs. He… he really likes dogs. You said they were his, so it must be what they want.”
He touches the rag to your swollen lip, his other hand tilting your chin up. “Yeah. And the Zen’in Clan is one of the most powerful political families in our society.” You peer at him in the pale, cold light of the bathroom. It paints you in an unflattering palette, but when Toji meets your gaze, a cold, icy dagger sinks into his back. You still look at him with the epitome of surrender. Underlying any sort of gentleness or hate or fury, there is that knowing.
They are entirely at each other’s mercy.
“I see,” you reply measuredly. “So, we have no chance.”
“You do,” he insists.
“No, I don’t.” Your lips press together. “I’m keeping the baby. They’ll come for me regardless of whether or not you’re here. So, really, if you think leaving me is what’s best, I can’t change that about you.”
His heart flash decays in his chest and he shoots the rag into the sink bowl, planting a hand on the countertop and grimacing. Bowing his head, he digs his fingers into the porcelain and watch the blood water slowly trickle down the drain.
He doesn’t want to leave you, can’t you understand that? If he did, he would’ve left you with his family to die. That is the most permanent solution he could ask for. If it was the better choice for his own self, the guilt would eat him alive, and he would’ve let it, but he didn’t. Toji knew the consequences of the choice he made when he set out for his ancestral home.
You’re here with a bounty on your head, and you’re asking him. Asking him to do something he can’t do anymore, and he knew you would.
He came for you anyway.
You exhale a shivering breath, inhaling another one before it can fully escape, and turn away from the mirror. The shadows nearly envelope you entirely.
“I’m going back to Osaka in the morning,” you tell him with no room to protest. “Hajime deserves a funeral. You either come with me, or you don’t. I’ve killed someone today. I doubt there’s not much more I wouldn’t do to keep myself alive, so don’t do it out of some obligation to me."
You rest a hand on his chest, against his heart, before you nod to yourself.
“Goodnight, Toji.”
You leave. The handprint that lingers burns like arsenic.
.
Toji jumpstarts a car and they drive to Osaka in silence. Megumi is asleep in your lap on account of the lack of booster seat, and you don’t look at him the entire way there.
When they reach Hajime’s house, it is dawn, the air frosty despite the sun on their faces. The place is as Toji left it, with a hole through the front door. You don’t comment on the scrambled interior, and merely traverse through to the backyard where a stack of wood has already been cut.
“Help me build a pyre,” you instruct shortly. “It’s what he wanted.”
Toji spends the better part of the morning building the pyre. You stay inside to make food, and return with Megumi an hour and a half later. The boy is still asleep, which is both a miracle and a relief. Toji had worried that using the Ten Shadows would drain the child at first, but his son is strong.
He’s just finished the platform as you cross the lawn. Pulling off the gloves, he shoves them under his arm and meets you halfway. “Here.” You extend a plate towards him. Eggs, sausages, and half an apple laden the dish, and you jerk your head over your shoulder. “There’s rice porridge inside.” He nods, and your eyes drift to the pyre. “Here, take Megumi. I’ll continue where you left off.”
“Where’s…”
“Upstairs. On the balcony.” You grab the pair of gloves from him. “No good for Megumi to see that, y’know?”
He nods again. “Alright.”
Brushing past him, you make your way towards the chopped wood and lift. Together, they finish the pyre just past mid-day.
You retreat into the house and slip into one of the rooms upstairs as Toji finds anything that can be scrapped together into lunch. Holding a bowl of instant noodles and steamed vegetables, he finds you asleep in an empty room, curled atop the covers and holding a pillow tight to your chest.
Placing the food on the nightstand, he perches on the edge of the bed. He debates waking you up, his hand settling on your arm, but when you don’t stir immediately, he decides against it. You didn’t sleep much the night before, and woke up early. That, and all that pregnancy business. Toji doesn’t know half about it, but he knows enough.
Perhaps it’d be best if he left you be.
.
You wake up in the late afternoon.
While you eat outside, Toji carries Hajime’s body and lays him to rest. It’s a pitiful thing to look at. The boy is pale, skin loose, hair patchy, and there’s a sort of fragility that unsettles Toji. He had been nothing but a bag of bones in the end, and resembled more of an old man, but his skin is so smooth, unwrinkled.
How is that supposed to make any sense?
Toji wonders if you’ve ever smelt a burnt body before. When they light the pyre, and watch as the entire structure goes up in flames, Toji does not watch Hajime disappear. Instead, he keeps his eyes steadily trained on you. The fire reflects in your irises, brings a synthetic life to dead eyes.
For a long while, they don’t speak. Toji leaves briefly to attend to Megumi, and he watches through the window as you stare at the fire consume the remnants of your old life. He heats up leftover okayu for dinner, and brings both a bowl and his son out to accompany you.
Dusk slowly settles over the horizon as he hands you the bowl. You take it without complaint, sipping. He briefly squeezes your hands, touches the back of his hand to your forehead, and you shoot him an arched eyebrow. Megumi lets out an appreciative noise at the pretty fire, slapping his hands against his father’s forearm. Toji shrugs.
“He told me not to tell you,” you say as his hand falls away from your head, “but he was grateful to you.” Eyebrows shooting up, a deep frown twists Toji’s mouth but you only smile fondly. “You made sure we were safe, even if that wasn’t your intention.”
“I suppose.” His eyes drift distantly over the burning logs. "Tell him I say you're welcome."
.
Megumi falls asleep again within the hour. It must be a combination of warm food, his father rocking him, and the exhaustion from the previous days lingering. When he rejoins you, you’re standing, your empty dish by your feet, and you greet him with a curt nod as he finds his place next to you.
The fire is steadily burning away, although it’s been a while now. The whole ordeal will be done before midnight.
You loop your thumbs through the belt holes of your jeans. “Will they know where I live if I go back?”
“Yes.” He kicks the disturbed dirt near his boot. The sound of the wood bending and finally snapping cracks the night. “They might offer you money once they realize you’re alone. When the kid is born, they’ll just take him if you put up a fight. If you don’t, they might let you stay. Then, they’ll wait a few years. Find out if the kid has what it wants. If it doesn’t, they’ll throw you out and keep the kid. If it does, they’ll marry you into the family. The claim is illegitimate otherwise.”
“What claim?”
“The Ten Shadows. If the child can control the Ten Shadows, then there’s no doubt they’ll groom them to be the next head of the clan. And they’ll treat ‘em like royalty, so maybe, it won’t be so bad for the kid. It might even be good. Better, if it’s a boy.”
“The same would happen if it were Megumi,” you point out. “You don’t consider bringing him back? Let him be raised as a prince?”
“They’d either pay me or kill me for him. I’ve considered it before,” he admits. “I don’t know why I don’t.”
“I see.” You lift your head to the smoke rising up into the inky sky. A signal to those around for certain, but Toji doubts the Hei would regroup and attack again so quickly. “They won’t let you stay with me.”
He shakes his head. You worry your lip between your teeth, and turn back to the pyre. The wind blows gently, pushing the ribbons of orange, yellow, and sparkling red towards the trees.
“You got a light?”
“Yeah.”
Reaching into his jacket, he sniffs. The smoke’s reminding him of his own nasty habit. “What are you thinking?”
“Weighing my options.” You shove your hands into your pockets and withdraw a lighter. Pulling out his box of Mild Sevens, he pinches one between his lips and cups the end. You lean over, torching the end and frowning delicately when you note the cigarette.
“Do y’mind?” he mumbles.
“No.” The sizzling end of the cig is covered by the sound of your lighter clicking shut and he takes a long drag, turning his head away. “Dick move to do that in front of me, though.”
He snorts in amusement, smoke escaping. “I’ll quit when the baby comes.”
“Whatever you say.” You hug yourself, tucking your chin in. “Do you… do you think you’ll be here when the baby does come?”
Toji blinks. Run, a voice inside him demands. You’ll kill her if you stay.
“It’s a nice image,” he says against his better judgement. Your eyes drag to his figure, and you take a half-step towards him, hand reaching out, but he jerks his glare down at your extended appendage. Immediately, your body freezes, and your hand curls into a tight fist. Softly, he rests a hand atop your knuckles and gently pushes down. “Megumi would like a sister.”
"Well, I want you to stay." The flames flicker across the apple of your cheek, and you finally take hold of his sleeve. “I want you to want to stay. I know it’s too much to ask. It’s selfish. But I have watched you leave before, and if I have to watch you leave again, fine, but only if I know it’s for the last time.” Your fist shakes. He pinches the cigarette between two fingers and exhales towards the pyre. “And you promise you’ll disappear. For good. You, and Megumi. You understand me?”
As tender as a man like Toji can be: "Yeah, I understand.”
You let go of his sleeve, step away, and face the pyre too. The flames are not as tall as they were before, although they’re no less bright and voracious against the night. It’ll still be an hour or more yet until it’s snuffed entirely, which you seem to grasp as you sit down on the grass. Drawing your legs to your chest, you rest your chin on your knees and let your entire body slouch forward. Toji glances down at you before sidling in a little closer and finishing his cigarette.
Flicking the bud towards the fire, he lets out a cough. The taste is something he’ll never get used to. Soon enough, though, it’ll probably be the last reminder he has of you if he goes. Just some pack of cigarettes in a gas station as if that’s enough to represent you in your frustrating entirety.
Toji wonders what sort of person he is to think about this when your best friend is burning in front of them. He wonders, too, about what Hajime had said about him. He hasn’t spoken to the boy in a decade, haven’t thought about him in years. There had been a time where they’d almost been brothers.
He debates smoking another cigarette, for his sake, but you wouldn’t appreciate that even if you don’t tell him no.
He settles on not smoking, and watching the smoke on the pyre instead. Eventually, a weight leans against his leg. Your head against his knee, you don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t give any indication that he’s even there. Lips twisting into wry, pitiful sort of grimace, Toji carefully crouches down, setting a hand on your head. You cant your head upwards, meeting his gaze.
“I’m sorry, too.” You lift a hand to his cheek, and your thumb stretches to brush over his lower lip. Your head tilts as you examine the scar, but then you’re lifting your gaze to his nose, trace the shape of his brow. “I just can’t let this one thing go.”
“I know.” He smiles grimly. “But to be honest, you hold a grudge.”
You mimic his smile. “Yeah, I know.”
Tilting your head forward with his hand, Toji closes the gap between them. Their noses brush, and your face, your exhausted, angry, beautiful face, is all he can see. The flecks in your irises, the stray hairs along your eyebrows. He runs his fingers down the side of your cheek as you turn to look at the fire, and remembers how hard it was to leave the first time. It rips apart old sutures in an ancient part of his withered heart. He wasn’t so much a coward that he left a note while you were asleep, but the way your face had glazed over into a placid numbness lingers.
“I know another safe house you can stay in long term,” he says as the wood pyre creaks and crumbles. There’s the sound of a few tumbling, crashing logs and your head snaps to the source. Continuing on, Toji tries to ignore the tight ball clogging up his throat. That damn fucking cigarette. It’s made his mouth feel all funny.
He plants a knee on the ground, and sheds his jacket. You’re about to shove him away but he lets out a sharp warning, forcing it around you.
“If you get sick after being out in the cold and inhaling all this smoke, how’s that good for the kid?” he snaps, and you stop, staring at him. “That place is good. They’ll keep you warm, and fed—”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” he asks. You pull the lapels of his jacket tighter around yourself. “I can take you there, and it’ll be near Tokyo. Somewhere more familiar.”
“And then you’ll leave again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Well, do you want to leave?” you press, pushing yourself to your knees. Toji pinches the bridge of his nose as you grab his arm. “Toji. If you’re just going to leave, what is the damn point of taking me somewhere else? Why wouldn’t I go back to your crazy fucking family when I know for certain they’ll take care of my kid?”
He nearly gawks at your stupidity. “Because they’ll treat you like shit. They’ll turn your kid against you. Do you think I’m the prime example of good family dynamics?”
“No, but…” Your fingers dig through his shirt. Clenching his jaw, he refuses to look at you as your other hand latches onto his shoulder. Why can’t you see? Is he not being clear enough? You can’t go back there. Toji knows you’ll die one way or another, and while he can bear it enough to be apart from you—to kill you is to inflict a mirrored wound on himself.
“No.”
“I know what I am compared to you. Compared to them. I’m nothing, Toji.” His name slips from your mouth, reed-thin and desperate. “Toji. Look at me. Please.”
He’s never heard you beg before. It stings like a poison, swelling up in his lung. Silent, he only looks down at your hand. It springs off his arm as if he’s scalded you.
“I don’t know what sort of world you’ve been living in,” you admit dully. “And maybe that’s my fault for never asking the right questions. But you can’t expect me to keep listening to you like it’s for my own good.”
“I’m not looking for reasons. It’s what rational, you idiot. It’s because of your association with me that you’re being targeted. It would be smarter if we split up in case they come looking again.”
“Well, it’s too late now!” You shoot to your feet, yanking his jacket off your shoulders. “I’m scared out of my fucking mind right now, and you’re talking about dumping me at some safe house near Tokyo. As if I’d stay there when I know there’s a place I might be needed. I'd be irreplaceable if I go back. At least for a little while. Which is maybe more than I can say for how you see me.”
Rising, Toji bites back the harsh insults that want to pour out of his mouth. His heart splinters as you shove the jacket into his solar plexus and you let out a rattling breath, twisting to face the pyre once more. Oxygen knocked out of him, Toji lets his jacket fall to to the ground and his body moves before he can command it.
His foot steps forward, his hands reach, and his mouth opens.
“Don’t play a hero, Toji.” You spit the words out bitterly, as if you cannot stand the taste of him anymore. “It doesn’t suit you.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you blink and your eyes begin to glisten in the firelight. Catastrophic amber set in your diamond-cut face. “If you’ve already decided, why can’t you just act on what you want?”
“Because what I want,” he murmurs slowly, fists clenching tightly as his sides, “is not the same as what’s best for you.”
Your head slants, just a fraction, and the corners of your eyes soften as you regard him. “Who are you to say what’s best for me?” Ducking his head, Toji squeezes his eyes shut and ignores all the voices in his head crowing at his stupidity. Every muscle in his body trembles as the grass crunches underneath a heavy foot, and when fingers brush delicately over his arms, he flinches back. “Toji.”
Tough, callused fingertips gently find his chin and tilt it up. His eyebrows knot together even tighter, and he jerks his head away but the hand is insistent, sliding along his jaw and pushing him back towards you.
“What I know is that the father of my child is the person best suited to protect me,” you utter with such misplaced conviction. Lips twisting into a pained scowl, he shakes his head. You cup his face, wrench his head so he is forced to look at you. A wet trail has carved a path down your cheek. His heart stutters in his esophagus. “You being here by my side in these damned woods makes me feel safer than if I were alone in some safe house because I trust you. Can’t you understand that?” Can’t you trust me, too?
The thing is, Toji has always trusted you. Had faith in you in a time when he didn’t believe in anything. The countless stitches that have been snipped by your scissors, and the gauze you’ve packed against his wounds are proof of all of that—invisible lines on his body that have healed perfectly because of your diligence and the long, pink scars in your absence weave a story he’s been writing for ages, but the endings diverge, and he tries to imagine both.
When you blink, another tear steadily traces the curve of your face, and he can’t stomach it. With a rough thumb, he swipes the tear away before grabbing you by your shoulder and yanking you into him.
Your arms immediately wrap around him, hooking on his shoulders. Holding the back of your head, Toji closes his eyes and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. Their bodies meld together, slot together like two pieces. As the fire begins to die and the smoke clears, clarity finally comes to him in the shape of that image again.
A child. A baby girl, Megumi’s sister.
“Take care of Megumi, okay?”
You had been right. His son has the Ten Shadows. If Toji sold him when the signs first showed up, he could’ve haggled enough to sate him for a lifetime. Why didn’t he?
Your lips brush the curve of his jaw as you let out a long exhale.
He can fool himself into thinking it’s because he wanted the certainty of knowing it’s truly the technique his family has been searching for, but it’s because he knows what princes are treated like in the Zen’in Clan. He wants the best for his son, really he does. He’d give it to him even if it meant he’d have to erase his blessing from his mind to make it happen.
But that possibility of you, out there, living a life he knows nothing about anymore.
Maybe that is the way. To keep his son happy, and to keep his son with him for the time-being.
Your fingers entrench into his shoulders hard enough to hurt. He runs a palm down your back before wrapping his arm around your waist.
Toji wants to run. He wants to stay. He wants to make enough money to not worry about gambling debts, but he aches to see his son grow up.
And, of course, now, he would like a daughter. He’s decided a daughter would be good, too, for the end.
“Do you think I don’t know what I am to you?”
Toji wonders if when you had asked that question, you had truly known his answer.
Only one way to to find out.
“Okay,” he finally whispers. Your head tilts inwards, your nose against the long cord of his neck. Your breathing is erratic, featherlight and hopeful as he closes his eyes. “Okay, I’ll stay.”
.
Three weeks later, a woman, a man, and a toddler boy walk past the torii of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Despite the weapons trained on the man’s chest, he proposes calmly, almost arrogantly, a deal they’d be stupid to refuse.
The service of the Sorcerer Killer in exchange for room and board for the three of them.
Yaga Masamichi accepts.
#fic: dissolve#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji x reader#toji x you#fushiguro toji#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen#my writing
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
i started watch 911 in like february? idk but its been two months since then and i have opinions. first, i love tommy. forever i will love tommy hes amazing. second even tho i did start watching it bc i like gay coded tv shows (read: hawaii five-o, spn, etc) and buddie was the only thing i saw from tumblr before watching the show, its just not it for me. i felt their chemistry in the series yes, but it felt very platonic to me. like soulmates yes but platonic soulmates. the whatta man song was hilarious tho. babytrapping buck was hilarious but at least he likes kids.
anyways now that tommy is here i can feel their chemistry. its written to have chemistry. theyre supposed to be together. every other ship besides henren was basically accidental. and now that tim is actually putting thought into how two characters will fit together, i am excited! i want to see buck feel safe and i want to see someone date him with all the crush-like advances involved. flowers, dinner and a movie, sweet kisses that dont lead to anything more. hand-holding during outings or family get togethers. i want to see it all
what i dont want to see is a cheating arc bc fans want a gay eddie with a big feelings realisation. he can be gay sure but that doesnt mean he has to be. if tim decides eddie is straight then his "comphet" behaviour can simply be catholic guilt and trauma and him not being ready for relationships simply bc he isnt ready. he hasnt worked through his trauma. he tried but they were all dead so he literally couldnt. and then they dont show him taking other steps after that to work through other traumas. he hasnt talked to buck about being shot or anyone really abt shannon dying. nothing! he stopped trying after finding out his army buddies all died. and he has had some conversations with chris abt shannon. but it doesnt feel like the situation is resolved or that hes come to peace with it.
cheating would not help in any way shape or form. not for buck since we've seen what one kiss would do to a relationship. not tommy bc buck has tried showing him hes ready for smth with him and cheating would just break that trust. not eddie bc again hed be rushing into things and then it would all come crashing down like always! and it would tear the 118 up if they found out. chris would be devastated. buck would be confused all over again and the fans who do like tommy would have their heart broken for him.
buck will not cheat on tommy for eddie to have his character arc pushed forward. eddie's character will grow in his own time at his own pace with guiding hands from bobby and ?the ghost of shannon? and who knows maybe marisol will stick around. maybe not. personally i like her as a character but not as eddies gf. but then my next question is why does eddie need a gf or partner in the first place? he has chris and i believe hes said before thats all he needs.
and for the love of all things good stop with the fucking fanwars. we've been over this. ship who you ship and walk away from what you dont like. dont leave hate mail bc someone has a different opinion than you. grow up, touch some grass, and drink some water
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
I haven’t watched The Walking Dead in years but I just found out about this Daryl Dixon spinoff show and how everyone seems to think it’s just copying The Last of Us. While it does in fact sound similar to The Last of Us from the short synopsis I read, I do think it’s a stretch to call it “blatant plagiarism” considering there’s only one episode out so far. Time will tell I guess, but I’m surprised that not a lot of people are bringing up Telltale’s The Walking Dead game
Badass survivor with a dubious past/trauma takes it upon himself to look after an orphaned child which he later comes to see as his own? Child later becomes a badass in her own right? Sound familiar?
It’s just funny that TWD is just sitting on this beloved gem of a story that predates The Last of Us videogame by a whole year and that could’ve brought in the gamer audience to their franchise as well, but instead they decided to put their money on Daryl Dixon in France lol
#maybe they don’t have the rights for twdg idk it’s just makes so much more sense to adapt that story#if they were in fact influenced by the last of us#and again since twdg predates tlou story no one could complain they were copying them#daryl could still have his spinoff just pair him up with carol#they literally had a win win situation and they squandered it lol#(wait is carol still alive? i don’t actually know i stopped watching during season 6)#anyway this post is basically just TWDG propaganda play it if you haven’t it’s great#literally the only thing that would get me to watch the walking dead again is an adaptation of lee and clem’s story#lee and clem walked so joel and ellie could run#respect your elders kids#they’re literally the og father/daughter apocalyptic duo#twd#twdg#the last of us#lucy rants
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Enemy pt 2
pt 1
if I saw him walking towards me like this I would run
I'm speechless this is so long I'ms orry I got carried away
Summary: you put yourself in a delicate situation with your superiors despite knowing more and end up in wrong hands.
Word Count: 4,3k
Warnings: dubcon, smut, König x female!reader, strong language, blood, gore, violence, knife play, spanking, dacryphilia, edging, unprotected piv sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), no use of y/n
masterlist
You've underestimated him, that's for sure. But you found out too late.
You found out when you were walking around, trying to find your captain to discuss some issues, and instead found a pile of dead soldiers and a pool of blood.
The door to his cell was ajar and of course the lights were off. That fucking bastard, how was it so easy for him to take down four trained soldiers? And how did he get away from the chains?
Maybe it happened when he was being fed, maybe he was strong enough to break the chains. And even if he was, why didn't he snap out of them when you were literally milking the info out of him?
You reach for your pistol and carefully follow the dark hallway to his cell after calling for backup, but you decided they would take the time you couldn't waste with this bastard. On the way, you rolled one of the soldiers with your foot, he'd been stabbed on his vital parts, and you deduced he did this to every other one of your guys.
Your ears ringed, your blood boiling through your veins with anxiousness, but at times like this you couldn't show your weaknesses. You were in it until the end.
You stand in front of the door, your fear getting even worse. You know you shouldn't show it. He smelled fear, he got off from that, of how your pretty eyes widened at his sight.
In an instant, the door is kicked open by your right foot, and before you could inspect the cell, your body was thrown on the ground in a loud thud, a heavy weight collapsing onto you, pinning you down on the floor.
Your head got dizzy from hitting the concrete too hard, but you could recognize that man from a mile away. You could recognize his nauseating scent even if someone brainwashed you for years.
He pressed your weak body with his weight as his blood covered hands caressed the black fabric on your mask, slowly lifting it up to reveal your puffy lips, waiting for him. He can't help but smile at the memories of your lips wrapped around his girthy cock as he held your head in place. He wants to do it again. But not now, now he's worried about other things.
"You're so pretty when you keep your mouth shut." He runs his finger along your lips, you could almost feel the metallic taste of blood. "I want to kill you so bad, slit that beautiful throat you got." He grabs you by the neck.
"Then do it." You said with gritted teeth.
"And end the fun of hunting you?" He pushed you back on the floor as your face started to get red. "I'll give you another chance to live, how merciful I am." He laughs, standing up and leaving you there, almost like the way you left him.
He disappears in the dark, and the last thing you remember were his eyes piercing through your soul, marking you forever, and your vision blurs. There were dry tears on the corners of your eyes, and your mind was filled with red.
You wake up in a white room and as soon as you open your eyes, you're blinded by the bright lights that reflect on the white walls and floor. There's no one with you. Great, they didn't even bother to put a recruit to watch out for you, ouch.
When you're prepared to leave the room, a doctor sees your movement and says he's glad you've finally woken up. He tells you about a concussion, and you listen to it until it slowly starts to sound like a distant babble, so far away, and your brain can't handle any more information as someone lurks behind the doctor.
He. It was him. He was there for you again. He was going to get you.
He's standing behind the man, holding a knife up to his face. His gaze. You can only feel how creepy his gaze is on you and how intimidating he looks with his gigantic size.
You know he's smiling, of course he's smiling, he's fucking insane, that's why. He's not leaving you alone, he's going to get you, he's going to kill you. You're gonna pay for what you did.
And the thoughts don't leave your injured brain as you try to run but your body does not respond to any of your commands.
He's there, he's going to kill you.
He's going to kill you.
"-and some might experience hallucinations." You blink rapidly and he's gone. You look back to the doctor. "Are you alright?" He asked you as he saw your sweaty forehead and your out of breath figure.
"Mhm." You cut him off, reaching for the clothes on the side of your hospital bed. "How long have I been asleep?"
"A day. Listen, you should rest." He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder and you push him away.
"I can't afford to rest."
You get dressed quickly and leave through the white corridors, trying to find your phone in the never ending pockets of your vest. Your head was hurting like hell, you felt your brain pounding on your skull.
You're going to end his life.
"Tell me you got that motherfucker!" You screamed on the phone as your captain picked up.
"Listen, you need to calm d-"
"I am fucking calm! Where the hell were you when he killed our men? Where the hell are you now?" Your anger makes your head hurt even more.
"I can't talk right now." You were able to hear other voices in the call, like someone else was talking in the room he was in.
"Then shove your dead men in your fucking ass!" You scream again, throwing the phone on a wall. Everyone around looks at you and you feel embarrassed, picking your phone up and shoving it in your pocket.
The sun falls down and you're met with a beautiful night and a sky full of stars. But that sight irritated you deeply when you had spent the last five hours looking at it when you couldn't sleep. He always came back. He always found his way into your brain. That manic look on his eyes whenever he had control over the situation. It's okay, you could handle it.
"You'd look so pretty with a knife up to your throat."
"What?" You blink fast, looking frantically to the sides and trying to find him lurking in the shadows. He wasn't there. He wasn't real. You shake off the thoughts, taking another long sip of the now cold coffee in a bottle right by your side.
But as they say, idle hands are the devil's tools. You couldn't stay still, how the fuck did he escape? How did he break those chains and most importantly, how did he break that iron door?
You wander around the hallways, finding your way to what used to be his cell. The floor still had a blood stain that couldn't be washed away, and thankfully they didn't care enough about such a thing. Holding a flashlight to the door, you see it wasn’t forced, so maybe he escaped when someone got in.
You take a deep breath before entering the cell, leaving a foot holding the door from the inside. It had a mechanism of automatically locking when closed, and there was no way to open from the inside.
The dim light is enough to illuminate the room, but you need to get closer to the chains if you want to examine them.
"Fuck." You mumble, trying to stretch your best to get to it, but it's too far from your hands. In a blink of a moment, the foot that supported your weight slipped and you fell to the ground, leaving the door unattended.
You look desperately to it, but it stays open. You sigh in relief, standing on your feet again and moving closer to the chains. You pick them up, but they have no sign of damage, someone unlocked his cuffs.
It's strange, this doesn't make sense at all.
Fear starts to settle in your mind and you think you should leave by now. As you leave the cell, your heart starts pounding mercilessly in your chest and your vision blurs. Your head is spinning and your legs betray you, making you fall on your knees and hands.
Bullet wound.
Bullet wound?
The night creeps onto your brain, you rolling the guard on his back, watching his lifeless body turn. Besides having stab wounds on the stomach, he had a bullet wound on the cheek, wait, what? Was it necessary to shoot him if he was dead already? Or was it necessary to stab him? And either way, how? König didn't have any guns, let alone a knife. Well, of course he could've snatched it from them, but how?
Plus the guard's cheek wound seemed to have come from a bigger caliber than what they dealt with down there.
This was suspect as fuck.
You regain consciousness, looking around, and you smile as your eyes meet with a red light from a security camera in the corner of the hallway.
But they wouldn't be so stupid, would they?
You sprint your way to the vigilance room, sighing as you face an at least easy obstacle. There was a guard there, of course, watching the cameras, but he seemed to be more interested in what you had to offer.
"Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes." You fake a smile, leaving the room. Like a needy man, he doesn't hesitate to go where you told him you'd be, and you lock him inside, saying you just need a few more minutes.
You try to get the images as fast as you could, putting them in a flash drive and running back to your room.
It seemed almost too easy.
As you're turning left in the hallway that leads to your room, you hit a wall, well, a man, but he was so tall and bulky he could be considered a wall.
"Where are you going in a rush in the middle of the night?" Ghost asks. Solid as a rock.
"Asking you the same thing." You scratch your head in embarrassment, he was too close for your liking.
"What you got there?" He points to your clenched fist, the flash drive was in your hand.
"Nothing." You say too fast, trying to get past him, he grabs your arm tightly, making you open your palm and yelp in pain, the small device falling on the ground. He stomps on it, smashing it on the ground, and gets even closer to your ear.
"Don't mess with them." He growls. "Go back to your room before you get yourself killed."
He knew something was up, and that confirmed your suspicions. He let you go and stood there looking at you getting away.
"'Cause you're gonna pay for it, maus." You turn back and he's still standing, holding both of his hands in front of him.
"What did you say?" You frown, walking back to him, ready to tear him apart.
"What? I didn't say anything?" He looks genuinely confused. "What's wrong with you, nitwit?"
Aw, Ghost and his delicate words.
"Yeah, I hope you didn't say anything."
You couldn't give yourself rest, you've been awake since you woke up at the hospital a day ago. The footage was gone, there was no way you could get it back, Ghost knew about something, and you were close to finding out the truth.
But you didn't give up so easily, you needed to know what happened.
While everyone else was getting breakfast, you went to the vigilance room again, trying not to get caught. The room was left alone for a few minutes as the guard miraculously had to go to the bathroom, you know, maybe it was the laxative you put in his coffee earlier.
You searched through the files and finally found the one you were looking for, the night he escaped.
The hallway was calm, a few men guarding the door to his cell. A man slowly approached them, and he wore a mask, but everyone could recognize him. The captain. What was he doing there?
They open the door for him and he gets in, there's a few minutes between him walking in and out, but when a guard opens the door, he's suddenly shot in the face. König walks out too, helping the captain take down the other guys.
It's pure brutality, and it's also so explicit. The violence of their hands committing such a crime, not hesitating to kill an innocent life for their own benefit. You hated them even more when you saw the captain's eyes widening, probably it was the moment you asked for backup on the radio.
He gave König a little tap on the arm and said something, then ran to the opposite side, leaving König alone to do whatever he wanted to you.
Then why did he spare your life?
He could've killed you so easily, why did he decide to let you go?
"And end the fun of hunting you?" You remembered his words.
The door gets kicked open behind you and two soldiers drag you out of the room, you try to get away from their strong arms, kicking and trying to scratch their skin.
Ghost was walking by when he saw you, giving you a disappointed frown. You knew what he wanted to say, you saw it in his eyes.
I told you not to mess with them.
You went too deep.
They drag you to the captain's office, throwing you on a chair.
"It's enough, you know too much."
When you think about biting back, you feel a stinging pain on your neck and the men holding you down. The pain was unbearable in your veins, like it was tearing you inside out, and soon your brain started to shut down.
Your head hurts when you wake up, and you panic when you feel your hands tied behind your back. You'd been tossed on a mattress, and your body was hurting more than usual, your stomach was hurting, you couldn't believe you were hungry in times like this.
You swallowed the weird taste on your mouth, looking around the room with half lidded eyes. Your head falls to the mattress once your eyes meet his and you sigh heavily, trying to shake off the hallucination.
"You know, this didn't have to go the hard way." You hear him say, you quickly turned your head and he was still there. "I told you'd be going to pay for that. You know how badly you humiliated me?" You chuckle.
"Aw, poor König." You laugh, but your laugh is cut as soon as he crouches in front of you, gripping your chin to face him. He makes you stay on your knees, and you gulp nervously.
"You really look prettier with your mouth closed." He throws you back on the mattress like you're made of paper and gets some silver tape from the chair. You widen your eyes, shaking your head from side to side. "Are you gonna shut up?" He lands a harsh slap to your face and you nod. "Good girl, maus. See? Not too late to learn."
He throws the tape back, grabbing you by the hair so you could stand. He's looking deeply into your eyes, and for a moment you fell for it. You didn't know if it was from the sedatives, but you fell for the way he looked at you.
"What's that puppy look for?" He asks, letting go of your hair. "I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already dumb?" He chuckles.
You can't express how badly you want to give him a sarcastic response, but judging from your red cheek, he wouldn't be pleased by it.
He reaches for his knife and presses it right against your throat. You swallow hard, trying not to move.
"Can't help but remember how cute you look taking my cock. I think I might have to do it again." He moves the tip of the knife across your collarbone, then down to your chest, stomach, slowly stopping at your crotch.
You're looking at him with not a single thought behind your eyes, the pain in your head was gone miraculously, and it's like time has frozen. He's so tall, so masculine, so insane. Maybe your taste in men is completely unhinged, or maybe he was hot.
He moves behind you, one hand to your mouth and one holding the knife against your throat.
"You can scream, cry, and no one can hear you here." He really got off from your fear, and you feel his devious smile. "I can do whatever I want to you." He gives you a creepy laugh.
Your shirt is ripped off from you, leaving you in a sports bra that also got cut by his knife, letting your chest free from fabric. He runs the knife along your tits and smiles from how hard your nipples are.
Pants were also a thing he didn't want to see you in, but this time he just pulled them down, leaving you naked. He stood in front of you once again, eyeing you up and down, like you were to be his last meal.
God, this was so embarrassing. Humiliating.
He takes his gloves off after putting the knife on his boot, revealing his veiny hands that were at least double the size of yours, and runs an eager finger around your folds, chuckling when his fingers meet your sticky fluid.
"You're fucking wet." He inserts a finger into you without any warning and you moan, trying to close your legs. "I can't believe you're into this."
"Shut up." You grit your teeth and look at him through your eyebrows, trying to keep your balance. And there goes another red cheek, you swear you could taste the blood from a cut.
"Watch your mouth."
He fingers you quickly, sometimes pausing to rub a few circles on your clit. He was enjoying the power he had over you, to watch your limbs get weak to his touch, to feel how wet he could make you without doing much.
You could feel something growing inside of your stomach, and showing it off would make him get his fingers away from you, but he saw it in your face.
He removes his fingers, slapping at your wet cunt, and makes you kneel for him. You whine, but there's not much time to complain when he's burying his cock down your throat. Thank God you don't have a gag reflex. He fucked your pretty mouth with so much taste, making you drool all over your tits.
He loved hearing the sounds you made, like your throat was made for him. He couldn't forget this feeling, that night when he met you, he wanted to live in that moment forever, him securing your head in place, pressing your body against that cold wall so you couldn’t get away from him, and coming right down your throat.
You cough when he pulls out, your face covered in tears and your own saliva. He pushed you on the mattress, spreading your legs further apart. He was so fucking hard, he needed to see how hungry your pussy was for his cock.
He pushes his pants further down, and pulls his shirt up only to expose his abdomen. His fat, girthy dick wanders on your wet folds before entering you in a long thrust. You suppress a moan, it's not like you've fucked anyone else that had such an advantage down there, it's hard to take him.
He holds your knees to your shoulders, increasing the pace on which he fucked you. You felt so good, so warm and especially tight, so fucking tight around him.
In a moment, he's pounding so hard into you that you can barely breathe, you feel the sweat sticking your bodies together, how his body hair stuck to his body with your slick, and how you're quickly reaching your high.
Why is it always written on your face?
"Not yet." You cry out as he leaves you empty, turning you to have your ass in the air for him. You tried to struggle, but he held your hips in place as he entered you at full speed, hitting your cervix repeatedly. He slapped and scratched your ass, leaving red marks. "I'm gonna ruin you, make you only ever want me." He growls as he takes the knife again, holding you close with his free hand as you try to escape him. "I'm gonna ruin you so bad that I'll be the only one you'll be willing to fuck."
His knife glides on your skin, pressing a little too hard for your liking, and you can't help but flex the muscles on your thighs as you feel it giving you a light scratch.
"Shh, shh, easy, maus. I’m not gonna kill you right now." He whispered and gripped your thigh way too hard. You winced in pain and he let go, lurking his hand around your body and pulling you close.
You've felt worse pains, but neither of them ever turned you on. This was something else. You had no clue on what you've been drugged with, but you lost every inch of self preservation you could ever have.
"Ahh, just like this." He moans, still fucking your brains out. "That's it, hase, let me hear you, hm?" Until now you've only let out soft whimpers, trying your best to keep quiet in fear he’d tape your mouth, pressing your lips together and scrunching your nose. "It's not like anyone else will hear you down here."
"Fuck, König." You finally cry, like you were holding your breath for hours. Your hands are touching his abs, nails digging on his flesh as he pushes past your physical limits. It’s such a strange feeling, he was definitely too big, too much to take, but at the same time you craved even more of his touches, like you were starving for any kind of touch.
“So pretty when you scream my name.” His hand takes a few soaked hairs off your face, then stops at your neck, squeezing tight.
“Please, it’s too much.” Your voice cracks and he throws your body on the mattress, your face buried in it, inhaling the sweet smell of dirt and making a tiny pool of tears.
“You didn’t seem to listen when I was the one asking you to stop.” His hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you down on his cock, like you were some kind of toy. He whimpered as his long fingers entered the tight hole of your ass, pumping it back and forth with his thrusts.
You could feel a burning sensation crashing against your skin as you reached your orgasm almost forcefully, contorting your face as your body was shaking uncontrollably. “See? And you wanted me to stop.”
“Shut up.” You mewled, and he wasn’t very happy about it.
König pulled you by your tied hands and stood in front of you, grasping your chin tightly.
“Why do you have to be so impolite when I’m trying to give you pleasure?” He lifted just a bit of his hood to spit on your face and slapped you. “I’ll have to teach you some manners.”
He tapped his dick on your face, covering almost half of it, he smeared your tears across your cheeks and pushed his long shaft past your lips. “Scheiße.” He murmured under his breath as his tip brushed your throat. He couldn’t contain the need to ruin your pretty little face.
You looked at his arms with blurred vision, he was so strong, so tall and masculine, yet he used all of that for the wrong reasons in war, fighting for the opposite side. You cursed yourself for ever letting this happen.
His pace becomes irregular and he’s panting even more, looking down at you with that lunatic look. He’s holding your hair in his fist, fucking your throat until you couldn’t even talk, leaving your jaw sore. He pulls out, using his free hand to jerk his member in front of you until he’s coming all over your mouth and chest.
The taste is almost the same as last time.
You both take deep breaths before he’s getting dressed again, preparing himself to get away from you.
“Wait, König, please.” You try to crawl to him in a pathetic attempt to make him feel pity for you.
“Please what, maus?” He asks in the most innocent way, looking deeply into your eyes. You can’t form a sentence, you’re not even sure what you want. “I told you’d pay, hm?”
He laughs deviously, leaving you there alone. Hands still tied tight behind your back, your naked body that he used to get revenge and your chest, covered in his bitter cum. Your jaw is sore, your limbs are weak, and there’s nothing you can do to get out of there. He left you with more questions than answers.
Oh, you’re so gonna pay for that.
taglist: @butterbunana @alyObe @snoisisabitch @nuhteyam @iamabsolutelynothere @blissful--moon @jellyluvr @khomugi @xaintxun @kichimiz @frog-spot
#könig mwii#konig cod#könig smut#könig cod#könig x reader#cod fanfic#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod modern warfare#cod x reader#könig mw2#könig call of duty#könig#konig smut#konig call of duty#konig mw2#konig x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
marriage and honor.
jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.5k)
summary: the Navy has already taken two people from your life, and you don’t intend to let there be a third. that is until Jake Seresin walks into your life
warnings: severe plot holes, mentions of character death, swearing
authors note: based off of the movie Purple Hearts. it’s a great movie and i highly suggest watching it! please bear with me in the beginning of this, the plot holes fix themselves, i promise lol. i literally threw this together because i wrote one scene for shits and giggles and had to commit to it
(read parts two and three here: december and devotion, cats and christmas)
————————————————————————
No one ever expects to have to bury their brother at fifteen. Kinda just like no one expects to have to bury their other brother at eighteen. But you do it the first time and then you do it again three years later. It's a bit like deja vu the second time, like you're reliving the actual nightmare all over again. Except this time there's no one to hold your hand and tell you it's all going to be alright because he's dead and buried too.
They both die honorable deaths in service to their country. At least that's what they say at the memorials. You're not so sure there's anything comforting about dying honorably. They're both still dead, honored or not.
Raised by your grandparents, you'd grown up the youngest of three on a military base smack dab in the middle of San Diego, better yet known as Fightertown USA. True military brats, your old brothers enlisted straight out of high school, one after the other. As their young and impressionable kid sister, you worshiped the ground they walked on and had your heart set on following in their footsteps. That was of course, until they both went and died.
'Sometime these things just happen', is what you were told. And you know, freak accidents do happen. Engines fail, training exercises go awry, safety precautions are ignored. But that doesn't make up for the fact that lightning has, against all odds, stuck the same place twice.
So after the Navy takes away not one but two people from your life, you swear off all things to do with military life. The moment you graduate high school you pay out of pocket just to move off of the base into a shitty the-bedroom-and-bathroom-are-in-the-same-place apartment. You go to college and get the kind of degree that looks good on paper but you can't really get a job with. But it's fine because it helped you to put the past behind you and move on. So much that when your grandmother passes away unexpectedly, leaving your grandfather widowed, you're able to stomach moving back closer to home to take care of him.
At least, you'd thought that you had moved on.
Now, standing in the middle of the courthouse wearing what had been your college graduation dress (the only white dress you could find on such short notice) and watching the man before you slip a ring on your finger, you're not so sure. As a matter of a fact, you actually feel sick, queasy like you might have to bend over the nearest trashcan to get the blood rushing to your head again. That might would be a good idea because what the hell were you thinking.
Jake must take notice of the expression on your face because he offers you a weak smile, his pink lips pressed together. The same thought must be running through his mind too because he also looks like he might be sick at any moment.
What the hell were either of you thinking?
"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Thankfully the minister is too bored looking with his own job to notice that both of you are looking worse for wear. He also completely forgets to say 'you may now kiss the bride', which is another thing to be thankful for. That might have been the straw that broke the camel's back and sent both you and Jake running for the hills. Instead he mumbles a unenthusiastic congratulations and departs from the room, leaving you and Jake standing numbly side by side.
In the following seconds after the minister leaves the room, silence settles between the two of you, partially due to shock and partially because you don't even know what to say. It's a sight, Jake in his pristine navy dress whites and you in your too short college graduation dress.
Finally, Jake clears his throat, swallowing. "Well, there's no turning back now."
*queue rewind noise*
You may be wondering how we got here.
*six days ago*
"C'mon baby, you didn't think that was funny? Girls usually love that line."
He'd been after you all night, smiling, cracking jokes, buying you beers. You had to admit, he was nothing if not persistant.
"Unfortunately for you, I don't date funny guys." Despite your tone, you're actually genuinely amused by the situation. He's trying so hard, and it's getting him absolutely nowhere.
He's handsome, without a doubt the most attractive man at the bar, but he could be the most attractive man in the world and you still wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Not with that smile and defiantly not with that uniform on.
"And why is that?" he laughs, undeterred by your blatant disinterest. His friends are watching, have been watching the two of you do this dance all night, and he's not about to back down now.
You watch the smile lines that appear on his tanned face, the way his eyes crinkle in amusement as he awaits on your answer. He's probably a few years your senior, early thirties if that's anything to go by.
"Funny guys are dangerous. They make you laugh and laugh and then boom you're naked."
His smile twitches and yeah, you can be funny too, wise guy.
"Is that where you think this is going?" he asks.
"Where else would it be going?"
And that's how it all started. The beginning of the end.
"You know navy spouses get a monthly stipend and are allowed to live on base?"
You remain facing the bar, peeling at the label on your bottle, not bothering to glance to your side. "You know, I really fucking wish Natasha would keep her mouth shut."
"(Y/n)—"
"It's no one else's fucking business what—"
He grabs the seat of your stool, nearly jerking it out from under you as he pulls it closer to his own. "Listen to me," he growls, a stark change from his usual demeanor.
Stubbornly leaning away so that you're not so close, you regard him with suspicious and narrowed eyes. You raise an eyebrow as if to say he's got your attention, however unwillingly.
"Right now, we're both in a tight spot, okay?"
You knew about his dad. Heard the whole spiel from Natasha— who you're learning that while, your best friend, cannot be trusted to keep her mouth shut— about how they weren't on good terms, hadn't talked since Jake got into the academy, and suddenly he calls out of the blue to tell Jake that he'd had enough of his son's playing around and that it was time for him to start thinking about getting married. That if he didn't within the next few months, he'd arrange the whole thing himself.
"You need a place to live—" You shush him, eyes darting to the people around you. You don't need anyone knowing that you can't exactly afford to pay your rent. Jake rolls his eyes because he doubts anyone could hear him even if he was yelling with how loud it is in the bar, but he lowers his voice regardless. "You need a place to live, and I need to get my old man off of my back..." He trails off, as if you should know where he's going with this.
You don't. You're just staring at him with an increasingly annoyed expression on your face, wondering how soon you can get out of this conversation.
He takes a deep breath and sighs.
"Hear me out, okay? What if we get married?"
You had actually laughed in his face at first, and Jake was so dead serious about it that he didn't even dwell on the fact that it was the first time you had laughed at something that he'd said.
"Not a chance in hell, Seresin," had been your second response. But that's the thing with pretty guys, they can be awfully convincing.
It all happens so fast that you have metaphorical whiplash. Next thing you know, you're wearing a brand new diamond on your finger and going out to the bar with his entire squad the night before their deployment.
Of course, they're all a bit shocked at first. You would be too. You and Jake hadn't exactly been even remotely civil with each other just a few days prior. But if any of them are suspicious of your's and Jake's sudden union, they don't let on, all too happy to have something to celebrate before they ship out. Fanboy and Payback have each brought their wives and Natasha her girlfriend as well. You suppose you're expected to mingle with them, maybe shed a tear or two over the shared bond that your partners are going across the country, but you can't really find a way to connect with them so you kind of just avoid them altogether. You do feel bad, sitting there without a care in the world while they all try to offer comfort and reassurance to each other. But you don't really know what else to do because it's not like you're exactly sad.
Thankfully Javy, or as he's known, Coyote, stands up and raises his near empty bottle of beer in the air and saves you from anymore uncomfortable sitting. "I'd like to make a toast! To the newlyweds!" You spoke too soon. The table cheers and raises their bottles in response, all of the attention turning to where you and Jake are sitting. Cheeks immediately flushing, you have to refrain from sinking down in your seat. Jake is grinning, accepting the few rough pats on the back that he receives from Rooster beside him.
And just when you think that's the worst it's going to get, it gets worse.
"Kiss!"
You're not sure who starts it, but like teenage boys, the entire squad parrots in unison.
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
At first Jake just laughs and shakes his head good naturedly, shrugging off the insistent urging of his friends, and you think that's going to be the end of it. But the chanting doesn't stop and finally Jake turns towards you. Your face is probably red hot and undeniably panicked. Heart racing, you try to read him in the half second that you're given as he leans and wraps his arm around you. Is he going to kiss you? Are you supposed to kiss him?
Neither option happens. Jake's arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side and at the last moment, he turns to press a kiss to your cheek. A series of disappointed boos follow but they are drowned out by clapping for the most part. He's uncomfortably close, closer than you ever would have liked to be to Jake Seresin, but you have to remind yourself that it's all for show. When Jake does turn away, you can still feel the warmth of his lips smeared against your cheek. Even so, he hasn't let go of you pressed into his side.
Your heart still racing, you reason with yourself that if Jake can play the part, you might as well too, and under that pretense, allow yourself to hide your face into his shoulder to conceal it's redness. The smell of his cologne washes over you, and oddly enough, you don't hate it. It's subtle, with a hit of what might be amber, and nothing like the overwhelmingly masculine scent that you would have pegged him for.
If Jake finds your sudden willingness to touch him strange, he doesn't comment on it, likely assuming that you're just trying to make this thing between the two of you seem real. You somewhat reluctantly pull away when Coyote's voice raises again.
"And here's to shooting down some fucking MiGs!"
Again, the table erupts into a chorus of cheering and hollering. You still, allowing Jake to fully pull away from your side while the proclamation rings out in your head. It's a very grounding moment, and suddenly you feel very alone sitting at the table. No one seems to have noticed your shift in mood. Maybe you're the only one put off by Javy's statement because this is their reality. There are people who are not coming home from this mission; everyone just likes to assume it won't be them. You know better.
You can't help it, the words just come out of your mouth. "That's a fucked up thing to say."
It's the first time you've really spoken up the entire night and all heads turn towards you. Based on the look in Jake's eyes, which is a bit apprehensive, as if he knows this is headed nowhere good, you realize you probably should have just kept your mouth shut.
Payback shifts uncomfortably in his chair while the rest of the crew glances around the table wearing varying states of confusion. Their gazes shift from you to Jake, as if waiting for some sort of explanation.
Coyote is the first to break the silence. "Look, sweetheart, that's just the way things are. Here in the Navy, that's a badge of honor. Your boy Hangman here is the only one of us with a confirmed air-to-air kill."
"(Y/n)—", Jake attempts to interject, but you're not about to let him explain himself to you in front of all these people.
You set your jaw and swallow back the anger threatening to rise up in your throat. "Yeah, because killing people is so honorable."
Coyote scoffs. "We're just doing our jobs. And if that means taking down a few planes while we're at it, so be it."
"Your job is to protect people," you snap. "There are people out there who have families—"
"Alright, that's enough—" Jake begins to interject for the second time, but this time it's Coyote who interrupts him.
"Come on, man. You're really going to let her say that kinda shit—"
You stand up. "I don't need his permission to—"
"I SAID ENOUGH." This time it's startling enough to cut both of you off. "(Y/n), what is your fucking problem?" Jake snaps.
You flinch at the harshness of his question.
Your eyes travel around the quiet table, where everyone is holding their breath, and then back to Jake. His green eyes reflect a type of pissed off what would be terrifying if you weren't so angry yourself.
A small, logical part of you knows that he has a right to be angry. You've picked a fight for no apparent reason in front of his friends and he hasn't the slightest clue why. It's not his fault your brothers are dead and you blame the Navy for it.
Regardless, that doesn't make up for the fact that you're pissed off by his defense of what Coyote has said. Even though you probably owe him an explanation, you're not about to answer him when he's just yelled at you. You also know that if you don't say something, he's going to and you'd rather die before letting him tell you off in front of all these people. You abruptly push away from the table and storm off for the bar top. You can hear Jake chasing after you.
"(Y/n)."
You ignore him in favor of heading towards the back door of the Hard Deck, pushing past people regardless of whether they're in your way or not. Being slightly more considerate, you can hear Jake moving much slower as he excuses himself through the crowd.
"(Y/n)—"
You come to a stop once you reach the door, spinning on your heels with a fire in your eyes.
"What's my problem?!"
Behind you, you can hear the loud jesting and jeering of his friends back at the table. They're still ruffled with excitement from your outburst, and Coyote's voice follows your retreating back. "Jesus man, get your girl under control."
I'm not his girl, you want to snap. He doesn't own me.
Jake has stopped a few feet away from you.
"What's my fucking problem?! My problem is that your friends are sitting over there calling murder honor."
Jake sighs harshly though his nose. Shaking his head, green eyes looking up, he begins, "He didn't mean—"
"No. I know what he meant, Jake. You're all a bunch of cowards. You're all too goddamn scared to admit that maybe you're not doing as much good as you thought over there, and so you just justify it by saying all killing is good killing, right?" you spit.
His vibrant green eyes harden but he doesn't respond. "That's some real goddamn honor, right, Jake?" you repeat, angrier this time, wanting more than just some watered down reaction from him. If there's one thing that pisses you off about Jake, it's that you've never gotten anything more than what he's conditioned himself to respond with. It's like he's locked up in this stupid box of his and the most you can ever get out of him is a glance. You want him to be angry with you.
"That's enough." His jaw is tight, and you can tell that even despite his lowered voice and rather subdued demeanor, you've hit a nerve.
"Admit it. Admit that you—“
"(Y/n)." His voice adopts a seriousness that you've never heard from him before. It sounds almost dangerous.
Jake steps towards you and for a moment you think you've won. And then in the moment following that, you actually think that he's going to get physically angry with you. Your heart stalls. Jake's a big guy, a naval aviator, and no matter how good he sells himself to be, he could hurt you if he wanted too. You would never have pegged him as someone who would put his hands on a girl, even after only knowing him for a week, but a man is a man, perfectly ironed uniform or not.
Only he doesn't. Instead he steps into your space and leans in closer than you've ever been before. His hand presses into your back, firmly pulling you into his chest so that you have no choice but to shift closer to him, your bodies molding together. "I said that's enough. They can see us arguing."
The press of his mouth to your ear conceals the exchange of your conversation from the listening table. You can smell his cologne on the starched collar of his uniform.
"I don't care if they see us—" Pushing your palm into his chest, you try to reestablish the distance between you, but like a brick wall, Jake doesn't budge.
"You realize that we have to make this look real?" he hisses. "From here on out, they're watching everything we do. The government is watching everything we do. Do you understood that?" His voice is tense, and it sounds more urgent than angry now.
Standing there, you realize his heart is thumping heavily beneath your palm. His body is uncomfortably rigid, like a scared dog waiting for its owner to show up and see the mess he's made. Behind you, the table has gone relatively quite. Rooster murmurs something along the lines of, "It's a little early for there to be trouble in paradise already."
Someone—Coyote—responds, "I don't think he thought this through, man. They won't last two weeks."
Jake's eyes meet yours, and you know he can hear them too. You swallow, trying to relax a little in his grasp. He's right, you have to make this look real, and fighting right off the bat doesn't exactly look good.
"Are they still looking at us?" You finally ask, leery now to even speak too loud.
Jake breathes a sigh of relief beside your ear, taking your sudden quiet as cooperation. "Yeah, just keep talking, okay? Act like we're working it out."
Despite trying to appear more comfortable than you are, you don't move your hand from his chest. The coarse material of his dress whites rises and falls steadily beneath your palm. It's calming in a sense, and you try to focus on its rhythm rather than the fact that you're so close that you can feel the heat of his mouth beside your ear.
"Still looking?" You ask after a few moments pass.
He hums. "Yep."
"Well then what do we do? We can't just stand like this forever." The longer you stand together, the more details you become aware of. Like the fact that his face is freshly shaven against your cheek and that he must have brushed his teeth before this because his breath smells like Listerine.
"Look at me."
"What?" You ask, your brow furrowing as he pulls away. His hand that had been holding your waist firmly in place lifts to grip your jaw.
"You're going to have to kiss me," he explains, glancing briefly over your shoulder.
"What?" Before you can even protest, he's leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours. Without the time to process what exactly is happening given your state of alarm, all you can do is go along with it. His lips mold against yours in what might be the most borderline tame kiss you've ever had. Despite this, you are reluctantly surprised to note how good of a kisser he is. It's just forceful enough to let you know he's in control but not so much that it's unpleasant. His lips are full and taste vaguely of his mouth wash.
You don't kiss him back.
It makes no difference to the group behind you whether you actually kiss or not; they can't tell from this distance and all they have to do is believe it happened. It's more for your own self preservation than anything. It's one thing to play the part, it's another thing to get caught up in it and catch feelings. And with Jake Seresin, that was a dangerous game to play. You'd already felt it, him prying his way under your skin when he'd held you at the table and the smell of his cologne filled your sense. It would be that easy.
To his credit, Jake lingers just long enough to make the kiss believable before pulling away. Even si, it still feels uncomfortably long. He leans back and you don't miss the fact that he wipes his hand across his mouth. "Sorry," he mutters under his breath, looking away.
"Jake..." you begin, immediately feeling bad, but he stops you.
"Whatever, (Y/n). It's fine." He won't look you in the eyes now. You turn to look over your shoulder, desperate to get yourself out of this increasingly bad situation .
"They're not looking," you say, finding the table now amicably chatting with each other rather than focused on the two of you. The sudden PDA must have finally diverted their attention. "...you can step away now."
"Right," he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. Jake drops his hand from your waist and steps back like he's glad to finally put some distance between the two of you. So much for making this look natural.
You return to the table shortly after, in hand to make it appear as if you've made up and smiling tightly when Bob cheerily welcomes you back to break the awkward silence. Once seated, you drop each other's hand beneath the table immediately. The rest of the evening is spent avoiding contributing to conversations that involve the other. If anyone notices, they don't comment on the fact that the two of you hardly look at each other for the rest of the evening, and somehow you manage to put up an otherwise happily married front.
When a few of the guys finally get a little bit too drunk, specifically Rooster, you're all too happy when Natasha calls it a night. Because they ship out the next day, Jake drives you back to the hotel where all of the married couples have rented out a room for the night. Apparently it's a tradition or something. You make the drive in silence. You let him check into the room and carry both of your bags up, disappearing into the small bathroom to splash cool water onto your face. It helps to ease some of the tension from this evening. Leaning over the sink, you watch the water swirl down the drain.
Is this crazy? This is crazy, right?
Jake is sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands when you step out. He's taken off his hat and suddenly he seems a lot more fragile than he was a few minutes ago. There's a softness to him, something having been previously concealed by the precise styling of his hair and tense pull of his set jaw. Before you can break the silence, he sucks in an uneasy breath.
"Hey, we need to talk about something. Um, you know... in case I..."
In case he doesn't come back.
You swallow, looking down at the ground. After tonight, after he's kissed you, all of this is starting to feel a little bit to real. What the hell happened to pretending? This was all supposed to be pretend. "Jake, please don't do that—"
He stands up from the end of the bed, and you notice the folded paper in his hands. "This is all of my personal information, you know, bank accounts, passwords, phone numbers... Anything you might need if something happens to me." He says it all as if it's so normal, but you can hear the apprehension in the thinness of his voice.
Already, you're shaking your head as he hands you the letter. "Jake, please. I don't want that." Your heart is pounding and all you want to do in the moment is go back in time and never have agreed to do this in the first place. This was insane. What were you thinking? Like you were going to put yourself through this again?
"(Y/n)—“ Jake tries, interrupting your spiral of thoughts.
"I said NO, Jake," you snap, stepping back from him and the letter. There are tears burning at the backs of your eyes, like you might burst into a hit of hysteria at any moment. "I change my mind. I can't do this..."
Jake's eyes glance from you to the paper in his hand and then back to you, and then he drops his outstretched arm with what sounds like a laugh. "Right. Not like we're fuckin' married or anything." He releases a puff of air from his cheeks and runs his hand through his hair like he's contemplating pulling it out. "Do you know how screwed we are if anyone finds out about this? Do you, (Y/n)??" he asks, his voice rising to a concerning level. "We're done!"
"Jake, I—"
He tosses the letter onto the bed and sits back down with a heavy sigh, looking down at his feet. When he finally speaks again, his voice had lowered to a more acceptable volume. "It's a bit too late for you to back out now. If the Navy finds out about this— if anyone one finds out about this, I could lose my job. We could both go to jail."
Silence settles over the two of you as Jake sits on the bed, staring at his feet, and you stand there in the middle of the room, willing your heart to stop pounding in your chest. You need to get out of here before your heart implodes. You turn and grab your coat from by the door.
"Where are you going?" Jake asks, his voice tired and annoyed.
"I need some air," you say, shrugging on your coat and opening the door. He doesn't try to stop you on the way out.
You regret the decision the second that you walk out the door. Now that the sun is gone, it's freezing outside. Your original plan had been to go for a walk to clear your head but you doubt now you'd make it very far. Walking down the stairs and out into the nearly empty parking lot, you look around, considering whether or not you would survive the trek to a gas station. When you realize you've left your phone back in the room, you decide against it. You aren't dumb enough to walk in the dark alone. Instead you head towards Jake's truck, which is parked out by itself at the end of the lot. To your surprise, you find it's unlocked and the door swings open when you tug on the handle. You climb in and the switch to lock the door behind you. Even the inside of the car is cold but at least it's out of the wind. You hug your knees into your check and tuck your chin into them, curling up in the driver's seat to keep warm.
And then you just sob.
It's the kind of sobbing that starts long and drawn out and then escalates into the rapid breathing that happens when you can't get enough air into your lungs and it feels as though there's an entire golf ball stuck in your throat. You haven't cried this hard since you were a kid—since your first brother died. You didn't cry the second time, didn't allow yourself to feel anything the second time because you knew there wasn't going to be anyone to pull you back together if you did.
At least being away from all of this had allowed you some time to forget, even if for just a moment, that they were gone without having to be constantly reminded. You had moved to put as much distance between yourself and the Navy as possible. Because that way life wouldn't get the chance to take another person from you in the same way. Looking at the ring on your finger now, that's exactly the opposite of what you had just done. This was just supposed to be until you could get back on your feet, and if it helped Jake out in the process then great. Now that you think about it, it was stupid of you to think that you would be able to make it through this with out catching feelings for him.
Now you're going to lose him too.
You cry until you almost make yourself sick and then some more. Your sobbing is interrupted every few minutes when you choke on your own air and have to swallow the golf ball that is lodged in your throat so that you can breathe. You're not sure how long you sit there just crying. Surely at least an hour has passed. By the time your sobbing has slowed, your head hurts and your chest aches enough to be sore.
Knock knock knock
You jump at the noise, head shooting up from between the bracket of your knees. It's dark outside, the parking lot just barley lit in a wash of grey by the moon. Even so, you can make out Jake's broad figure in the darkness.
"Open the damn door." His order comes out in a puff of frosty condensation that warms a spot on the window, his voice only partially muffled by the barrier. His shoulders are hunched against the cold, the upturned collar of his coat doing little to protect him from the brutal conditions.
For a while you just stare at him through the window, swallowing back the spit in your throat.
"Open the door," he repeats, knowing better than to think that you can't hear him. If only locking yourself in his car was the solution of all of your problems. Reluctantly, you reach over and click the lock, slowly rolling down the window.
After it stops, you stare at each other through the open car window, separated only by the frame of door that he could now easily reach out and open. His soft brown hair is mushed and in disarray, nose and cheeks tinted pink form the chill. The pleasant green of his eyes is mostly hidden as he squints against the wind.
Finally, you suck in a breathe, your chest shuddering. "I cannot do this," you stress, all of the fear that you've been shoving down now presenting itself in a singular sentence.
Jake sighs, his face softening to reflect a look of sympathy. "Look, I promise you, it's not that bad. You'll come with me to the carrier when I ship out tomorrow, we'll hug each other goodbye, and then you won't even have to see me for a couple of months. It'll be like none of this ever happened. And when I come back... we'll figure it out. Okay?" His voice is soft and understanding, like he's talking to a child.
You stare at the dashboard, your stomach still churning anxiously. "That's not what I'm... It's not you, Jake." Quite the opposite. "I lost my brothers to the Navy. Both of them. And I don't think I can take losing anyone else."
Immediately Jake's face falls as he puts everything into place. Your initial distaste for him, your furious outburst at Hard Deck, your reluctance to have have anything to do with the Navy... "I—God, I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I had no idea."
You shrug, calming down now that you've finally let go over everything that you've been holding in. "I asked Natasha not to tell you. I just thought that I could get over it so what was the point in even telling you?"
The wind blowing into through the open window is bone chilling and so you can only imagine how cold Jake is standing outside the car. For a while there's only the sound of his quiet breathing.
"Nothing's going to happen to me, (Y/n)," he says into the darkness.
"How can you be so sure?"
Hands shoved into his pockets, body braced against the wind, he shrugs. "I'm not. But if I didn't tell myself that every morning, I'd never get out of bed."
Sighing, you pull the handle on the inside of the door. "C'mon, it's fucking cold out there."
Jake huffs as if to say, you're telling me, and grabs the handle to pull open the door. Only instead of climbing in, he steps further inside the door and grabs your head in his cold hands so that your faces are mere inches apart. "I mean it, kid. I'm not going to leave you, alright? You just gotta trust me."
Looking into his eyes, you know he means it. For the second time since you've known Jake, you really see him. Standing before you is the same man that you saw in both of your brothers. Granted, they were much younger than he is now, but you get it. You'd been trying to see him as anyone else other than the brothers you lost, praying that it would hurt less, but you can't make someone into something they're not.
"Okay," you whisper. "I trust you, Jake."
You're awake hours earlier than what you're used to in the morning, but that's only because you had glanced at the alarm clock at half past three and realized that you only had few hours left with Jake. The both of you had returned to the hotel room and changed in comfortable silence, slipping into the single bed together without a word. Jake had reached over and pulled you into him without so much as a second thought. Now his body is draped heavily on top of yours, his nose tucked into your hair as your fingers trace along the bare skin of his exposed back.
You switch between staring at the ceiling and watching the numbers change on the alarm clock, trying to think about anything other than the fact that Jake would wake up in about an hour, you'd drop him off at the carrier at six, and that would be it. You'd only just gotten him and now you were going to have to let him go.
When Jake's alarm does go off, you're more emotional than you thought you would be, but Jake seems to be fine, dutifully putting on his uniform and carefully packing all of his bags, so you try to put on a brave face. You move slowly, dragging out the process of getting dressed as long as possible just so that there's no excuse to leave for the dock any sooner than you have too. After you're done getting ready, you watch him shave once and then again for good measure before he ultimately decides that you've both wasted enough time putting off the inevitable.
The drive there is silent as well and would have been unbearable had Jake not reached over the consol to reassuringly squeeze your hand. He doesn't let go of it until you pull into the crowded port. Between people trying to get their things on board and a bunch of teary goodbyes, it's beyond you how you manage to find the Dagger Squad in the midst of the chaos. Fanboy and Payback are saying goodbye to their families while Rooster and Natasha chatter excitedly with an older man also dressed in naval attire, the name plate on his uniform identify him as 'Maverick'. It's all so overwhelming that only when Jake squeezes your hand again do you realize that it's time for you to say goodbye.
Reluctantly, you turn towards him, interlocked hands swinging between the two of you. He does his best to smile, and to his credit, it's not entirely fake. "Well," he sighs. "This it it."
"For now," you add, returning his soft smile as you look up at him.
"For now," Jake agrees, his smile brightening now that you seem to be okay also. He pauses, just staring down at you for a moment before he adds, "Are you going to let me kiss you?"
You smile, answering him this time without hesitation. "Only if you keep your promise."
Jake's large hand comes up to cup your cheek, cradling your chin in his palm as he leans down to you. "I promise," he murmurs before pressing his mouth to yours, perhaps even more tender than he did the first time at Hard Deck. Only this time you reciprocate it, chasing his mouth as you lift up on your toes and run your fingers through the back of his hair. Groaning, Jake sighs into the kiss. It's dizzying and you don't know how it's possible to put all of the passion that you've been holding back into one kiss, but somehow you do. His lips are soft and you have to shove down the urge to grip his hair and demand him for more, because it by some miracle occurs to you that you're on a ship in front of hundreds people.
Jake's the one to pull away, his eyes shining and pink lips slightly more swollen than they were a minute ago. You can't help but laugh, wiping away some of your lipgloss from his mouth with your thumb. "Goodbye, Jake."
"Goodbye, (Y/n). And don't forget, I'll see you soon."
#top gun maverick#top gun fic#topgun maverick#hangman top gun#hangman x reader#jake hangman fic#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x y/n
567 notes
·
View notes
Note
cheeky little angst to fluff blurb for leah??
leah didn't do her acl in this because i said so
insensitive II l.williamson
"-so i'll rest again for a bit in bed, go to breakfast and then i think we have our team walk in a couple hours? oh! then a few of the girls are gonna go for breakfast and to the beach tomorrow before our flights since they're later at night. the beaches here are literally insane babe the water is so blue, i'll make sure to send you some photos. i'm keen for one last taste of summer before returning to the bleak dead cold of the uk." you joked with a smile, your girlfriend humming tiredly in response.
"i'm sorry baby i'm talking too much. are you sure you're okay? you played brilliantly leah really, i was so proud of you." you softly assured, as you had been for the majority of this phone call which was really annoying the blonde more than helping her to feel better as you intended.
both of you away with your respective national teams for international break you'd both been on the phone much as you could, forever attached at the hip you missed the older english girl who held your heart terribly.
however it would appear that your break was going a whole lot better than leah's, australia coming away with an 8-0 win a few days ago and england having just lost 3-2.
your chances of qualifying were looking up whilst hers seemed in a jeopardy she'd not predicted experiencing.
"i'm fine." if you would have picked up on the hidden sharpness of her words you might have caught on and changed topics, however still half asleep you missed it, having been up very early to watch your girlfriends match.
"losses happen lee it doesn't mean you girls have any less chance of qualifying, you've come back from worse yeah? heads held high and leave it in the past, same thing you tell us all each week in red babe." you tried to comfort her only your words had the opposite affect.
with the loss playing heavily on her mind and leah attributing a large portion of the blame toward herself in defence, she felt a bitter bubble of jealousy and frustration begin to build up in her throat. and before she could think any better of it, it came out suddenly like a toxic word vomit.
"yeah well some of us have actual challenges to face to qualify. we can't all get the easy draw and piss poor low ranking teams to smash 8-0, scoring hat tricks against players with half your professional experience and no funding into their programs, can we? the entire olympics qualification system is a fucking joke!" leah snapped, a few of her team mates heads swiveling toward her with a mix of frowns and surprise at her harsh tone.
silence was all that she was met with after her little outburst, you opening and closing your mouth in somewhat a state of shock at the venomous tone from your usually calm mannered and always supportive girlfriend.
"you must be tired and your flights soon. i'll call you later before warm ups?" you asked hopefully, heart hammering in your chest. "no, i'm going into the training centre soon as i get back." leah replied bluntly, clearly not intending to watch your match as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"right. well i hope you get some rest on your flight then." and with that the line beeped signaling you ended the call, leah shoving her phone into her pocket and resting her chin on the handle of her suitcase she was currently sat on.
"leah mate...that was painful to listen to." georgia winced from beside her, keira humming in agreement. "what? she's being insensative! if she knew me she'd know i fucking hate being coddled and thats all she was doing, as well as flaunting her stupid win." leah muttered with a roll of her eyes.
"is that seriously what you think?" keira questioned, eyebrows knitted together as leah only gave a small shrug. "leah." the younger girl sighed, shaking her head.
"she barely mentioned the win to you when it happened, she spoke about her hat trick maybe once on facetime that night? she stayed in to call you like normal instead of being out for dinner celebrating with her team." keira began to lecture the blonde beside her.
"do ya know what time it is in western australia right now leah?" georgia continued on, eyes wide looking at her phone as again leah only shrugged, though a hint of guilt was just starting to creep in.
"it was 3:30 in the morning there when we kicked off and she watched the entire match and then stayed up for a few hours afterwards to call you, so that she could comfort you and try to make ya feel better." georgia lectured, leahs stern gaze beginning to crack at her words.
"then you just dismissed all of the graft she put in last match and her entire teams hard work down to something they have no control over. doesn't matter who they play leah, they deserved each win." keira continued, leah taking her bottom lip in between her teeth as she sat up and rubbed her face with her hands.
"then she gets up at 3:30 to watch your game and you tell her you aren't bothered to watch hers when its at a more than reasonable time, because you're busy feeling sorry for yourself." georgia added on, yet another blow of guilt for her to swallow.
"did you think it was insensitive when we beat them in the semi final of their home world cup, and you celebrated with your team afterwards?" keira asked with a raised eyebrow.
"nah that was different! i went right to her first to make sure she was okay and tell her how proud of her i was, and she told me to go out afterwards and went out with her own team." leah defended suddenly, shut down by the looks from her best friends either side of her.
"exactly leah, so then how is that any different than her trying to console you after this loss? and then you had to go and open your stupid hot headed mouth, stick your foot in it and probably make her feel like shit before her final international match of the break, which you all but said you wouldn't be watching. how is that fair?" keira delivered the final punch as leah crumpled, head hung in her hands with a small groan.
"yeah alright alright i get it, i've royally fucked up here." leah sighed, standing suddenly and walking off with her phone held to her ear, calling you over and over as each time the phone would ring out only affirming to her that she had really stepped in it this time.
trying you for a fifth time, urged to hurry up from her team mates as their flight was boarding leah's phone vibrated with a message as again you didn't answer.
from; lover girl
i need some space please, i'll call you once i land back in london x
with a frustrated sigh leah heart reacted the message not wanting to overstep, locking her phone and hurrying over to keira who was impatiently waiting to board.
she had some serious groveling to do.
~
you opened and scanned through the multiple messages from leah she'd sent while obviously watching the game, withholding the urge to smile at her running commentary and complimentary words about how you and the team played.
still quite frustrated with her and still wanting space you opted not to reply, locking your phone and tucking it under your leg as you rummaged around in your backpack for your airpods.
"you're not gonna call leah?" steph asked with a look of surprise as you settled in beside her on the bus back to the hotel, where as normally you'd sit by yourself to call your girlfriend after each match like clockwork.
"nope." you answered simply, shaking your head and tucking one knee up to your chest. "what's happened?" the older girl sighed knowingly, draping an arm over the back of you as your head came to rest on her shoulder.
through the four seasons you'd played together at arsenal the two of you alongside caitlin and now kyra had become like a family, relishing in the familiar comfort of having your fellow aussies around living in a foreign country where you hardly saw your actual loved ones.
"i think we had an argument? but we didn't exactly argue." you replied, still a little in the dark yourself on what had caused leah's outburst. steph only gave you a confused stare and nodded for you to explain further as you did so, recounting your conversation with the blonde captain this morning.
"ahhh, i see." steph nodded now caught up as you hummed tiredly, the time now nearing eleven at night. "you know she loves you very much. but we both know she hardly has a filter on what she says sometimes, and she's quite potentially the most patriotic person i know both for club and country." steph chuckled, patting your shoulder.
"norf london foreva." you mocked her accent quietly with a small smile, admittedly missing it even more now you knew you'd not be speaking to her for a couple of days while you flew.
"but thats not to dismiss how harsh she was and how that would have made you feel. i think some space is a good idea, gives her some time to reflect on why you're upset and why what she said was wrong. you gonna be okay?" the brunette asked softly as the bus pulled in outside your hotel.
"yeah, i'll be fine. it's been nice being back home and seeing all the girls again, and we're going for brunch and to the beach tomorrow. i'm just focusing on that and the horrendous jetlag we're due for once we touch back down." you groaned, steph agreeing as the two of you filed off the bus.
~
"kyra i promise you, if you so much as breathe near me for the next twenty four hours i am going to murder you." you spoke calmly, stopping to take a deep breath as the younger girl purposefully stepped on the back of your trainer again.
you loved her dearly but it was like having your own child as she'd wound you up for hours now, giving you a brief moment of rest when she'd finally passed out on the plane. but now fully awake and in her usual tiresomely hyperactive mood she'd been kicking the back of your knees out and stepping on the back of your shoes from the moment you stepped off the plane.
"leave her be! honestly mate you're so annoying." caitlin groaned on your behalf, wrangling the girl into a tight headlock and dragging her away from you as the four of you headed out of baggage collection.
"i see your personal chauffeur has arrived." you looked up in confusion as steph elbowed you, spotting leah a hundred or so metres away. "ooo she's off to kiss her little girlfr-" kyra's sarcastic kisses and teasing words were cut short as caitlin suddenly swept her feet out from under her, sending her tumbling to the ground on her ass.
"oi!" with that the two took off chasing one another around the terminal, steph kissing your cheek and telling you to call her if you needed her as she hurried off to sort your friends out, the three of them set to take an uber together.
you watched leah nervously shift her weight from one foot to another as you slowly made your way over, her face partially hidden by the hood drawn over her head. a hoodie which you quickly recognized as one of yours, a faded black australian national team hoodie from years ago.
you also noticed she had a bunch of flowers in one hand which she immediately held out to you. "hi." leah breathed out quietly once you arrived in front of her and had taken the flowers with a mumbled thank you.
"hi." you echoed back, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and shaking your head as she offered to take it from you, the two of you wordlessly making your way out of the airport and to the car park.
you dumped your bag in the boot which she opened and closed for you, sliding into the passenger seat with a tired sigh and carefully placing the flowers on the floor between your feet as leah sat beside you, starting up the car and pulling away.
"can we talk? or do you want some time to like actually sleep and rest, you must be insanely jetlagged. i can stay at beth and viv's place tonight? give you some space." leah offered, the two of you having been living together for well over a year now.
"no it's fine, we can talk." you confirmed, adjusting your position as your head slumped against the window, eyes struggling to stay open which didn't go unnoticed by the blonde beside you.
"are you sure? you look exhausted we can-"
"leah i'm sure, we need to talk."
you hadn't mean to come across as bluntly as you did given your jetlag, as you saw surprise flicker across your girlfriends face for a moment before she nodded and you mumbled a quiet apology, rubbing your eyes.
"well i'll start. firstly; i am so incredibly unbelievably sincerely sorry for what i said to you love. i was tired and frustrated with my own performance not that thats any excuse, and selfishly a little jealous of your big win when we lost. which was completely unfair because i am so so proud of you in everything that you do. i promise!" leah started, glancing over at you as she stopped at a red light and you gave her a small smile, nodding for her to continue.
"you put so many hours of extra training in to prepare for the world cup and of course thats payed off and you're finally seeing the benefits. I was bitter and selfish and i lashed out at you when you were just trying to make me feel better, like always, and i am really really sorry baby." leah continued, falling silent after as you assumed she'd finished talking.
"well firstly; you were an asshole." leah winced at that but nodded, understanding her actions were to blame here.
"but i understand you were feeling poorly after a loss, i just wish you'd communicated that with me a little better and i would have left you be with your own thoughts rather than talking your ear off and probably worsening your mood." you sighed, the blonde quick to assure she normally loved you talking her ear off.
"i just felt like i didn't understand what i'd done to cause you to be upset with me, and then you snapped about the qualifying process and you weren't entirely wrong but-"
"i was! i was wrong about that. its been the way they're done for years now and its not anything you or i are ever going to have the influence to change single handedly, and i should have never dismissed the shift you and the girls put in for that win." leah was quick to clarify before apologizing for interrupting you.
"thank you. next time please just communicate with me how you're feeling and what you need lee." you smiled tiredly, your girlfriend reaching for your hand and smiling in relief when you allowed her to take it, the blonde bringing it to her mouth and placing a few tender kisses on your knuckles as she glanced toward you.
"eyes on the road thanks charmer." you smiled tiredly, leah not letting go of your hand but dropping it to rest on the middle console, her other hand expertly maneuvering the steering wheel.
the rest of the ride home was filled with a much more comfortable silence, leah thanking her lucky stars you'd been so forgiving and remanding herself over and over for ever wronging you, smiling softly at you asleep in the seat beside her.
parking in the driveway she flicked the car off, carefully getting out and softly closing her door. she grabbed your bags out of the back and hurried them inside, dropping them in your shared bedroom and rushing back to the car, leaving the front door open.
gently opening your door she caught your body as it slid out having been leant against the door, your eyes shooting open as you inhaled sharply and sat up. "we're home baby." leah advised, affectionately rubbing your flushed cheek with her thumb as she pressed a kiss to your temple.
with a tired nod you allowed her to pull you up and out of the car, walking yourself to the front door and rubbing your eyes. you stretched as you crossed the threshold of your home, squealing as leahs hands poked at the sliver of skin which popped out as your top rode up.
"hello." you latched yourself onto her the moment she closed the front door and turned, your cheek smooshed into her shoulder as her hoodie clad arms wound tightly around you. "i really really missed you." leah sighed, swaying the two of you back and forth as you relished in the familiar warmth of her embrace.
"so i can see, you've become an honorary tillie." you teased, tugging on the sides of the hoodie as your chin moved to rest against her sternum, looking up at her in amusement. "for you my girl? anything." leah promised with a soft smitten smile, leaning down to kiss you.
"leah what is that?" you spotted a piece of cardboard on the kitchen counter over her shoulder, pulling away from her right before her lips met yours causing her to frown.
"welcome home from prison!" you read out the sign with a scoff, leahs arms folding around you from behind as her chin rested on your shoulder and you felt her body vibrate with a quiet laughter.
"thought it might be a bit too soon for the joke to land right without an apology first." leah admitted, pressing a few light kisses to the side of your neck.
"mm yeah good choice. dick!" you shoved her playfully as she continued to cling onto you, spinning you around. "may i have a proper kiss now please?" the blonde pouted, puckering her lips as you smiled, shaking your head.
"well i am all for charity and since you asked so nicely." she pinched your side for the comment, pressing her lips to yours before you could say another word.
the way her lips slotted perfectly with yours would forever make your head spin, sending you into a love drunk haze of dizziness at the euphoric feeling of kissing her. the way her bottom lip would part slightly as her hand flew to the back of your neck, her tongue slipping into your mouth as her thumb rubbed gentle circles just below your ear.
her lips always soft and welcoming, her kisses calculated and thought out, making sure that with every fleeting second you could feel how deeply she cared for you. this kiss in particular was two weeks in the making, the blonde pouring into it every inch of her adoration for you with each slight adjustment and touch, her other hand resting on your waist to draw your body even closer into hers, trapping the two of you in a cocoon of warmth and love and safety.
"welcome home." she pulled away with a light smack, pressing a few softer kisses to your swollen lips before pressing her forehead against yours, closing her eyes and hugging you tightly, anchoring you in her arms like a lost ship coming ashore.
the sea of your relationship wouldn't always be smooth, but with leah at the helm and you loyal by her side the two of you could get through pretty much anything.
"it's two now baby. do you want to sleep for a few hours and then up for dinner? and we can stay up till around maybe ten to try and reset your schedule?" your girlfriend offered sweetly, warm lips pressing against the crown of your temple with each word.
"so long as you're with me i don't mind." you sighed, head falling to her chest as you squeezed her tightly, melting the older girls heart who hugged you back just as firmly.
"well you can't sleep standing up." with that she'd bent down to grab the back of your thighs, hoisting you up. "bed or lounge baby?" the defender asked with a raised eyebrow. "not the first time you've asked me that while i'm off the ground in your arms." you smirked, kissing her nose and grinning as she scrunched it slightly.
"even half asleep with jet lag you remain a cheeky cheeky girl." leah tutted with a shake of her head and carrying you with her over to the sofa, turning around and sitting down as she pulled you to sit between her legs which stretched down its length.
"can you put the golf on please?" you mumbled tiredly, shuffling so your head was resting on leah's chest, hearing her heartbeat beneath your ear as leah smiled happily in surprise at your request. "really?"
"yeah, always sends me to sleep." you continued, closing your eyes as leah rolled hers, carding a hand through your hair but doing as you asked, nails scratching at your scalp and the english captain chuckled seeing within a few short minutes you'd fallen right back to sleep.
desite the fact she actually enjoyed watching the golf much to your horror, a few holes in, she was ashamed to admit she joined you, eyes drifting closed.
#leah williamson x reader#woso x reader#woso#leah williamson#woso blurbs#woso imagine#engwnt#woso fanfics
910 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everything Goes Wrong
Description: A few bouts of bad luck aren’t all that bad.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader
Warnings: none. this is straight fluff
Word Count: 2.4k
The case had been a hard one, especially in the dead of winter in North Dakota. Not only had we been working tirelessly for a week and a half, but the cold had pretty much knocked me on my ass. I was sure I could say the same for the rest of the team, too. We were groggy and exhausted by the end of it.
Not to mention, we were all a little irritable with the fact that the hotel had screwed up our sleeping arrangements, leaving many of us pairing up in rooms that didn’t exactly accommodate two people.
I didn’t exactly pull the short end of the stick, getting paired up with Hotch this time around, but we definitely all were over having roommates. I needed alone time desperately a few times over the course of the time we spent, and never got it. I couldn’t have been the best person to room with considering how snappy I could get.
Then, right as we thought we were going home, plans changed again.
“You’re kidding,” Derek said as we stepped out of the local precinct.
We looked around at the snow pouring out of the sky. We could hardly see a few feet ahead of us.
“How are we supposed to get home in this?” Emily asked, groaning. “I hate the winter.”
Hotch let out a harsh breath. “Let’s try to get back the hotel, at least. I’ll call and see if we can take off, but don’t pack up yet.”
We were a chorus of annoyance as we trudged to the SUVs. It was a hard drive back, and I was more than thankful I wasn’t the one trying to drive in this. Our five minute drive to the hotel took thirty. The roads were a mess, and visibility only got worse as the minutes ticked by. It was a miracle we made it back at all.
Though, as expected, halfway through the ride Hotch got word that we would be staying the night again. Nobody took that news real well.
I sighed as I stretched out on the mattress almost an hour later. It felt more than good to finally rest after a full day on my feet. I couldn’t wait until it was my turn in the shower. I could practically feel the hot water soothing my sore muscles already.
Suddenly, silence fell over the room. It was already quiet, save for the sound of running water, but now… Something was off. Literally turned off.
I stood up, walking towards the heater with hopes that this wasn’t what was wrong. I should have known better. As my hand reached out to feel the warm air rushing out, there was nothing. I sighed heavily, retreating back to the bed to take a seat once more.
It was several minutes until Hotch was walking out of the bathroom, a towel around his shoulders, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. At least he looked comfortable before I had to deliver the news.
He took one look at me and knew something had happened.
“What is it?” he asked, voice exasperated.
I gave half a smile, nodding towards the heater in the room.
“I think we might be sleeping without heat.”
He furrowed his brow, doing the same thing I’d just done. He groaned quietly when he, too, felt no warm air against his hand. He mumbled something about calling the front desk, but judging by his facial expressions alone, there wasn’t much they could do about it at the moment.
He hung up the phone, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry. First we don’t have enough rooms and you have to get stuck with me, and now this. This is ridiculous,” he huffed a sigh, looking around the room.
“It’s alright. You didn’t choose this place, and you certainly didn’t make, well,” I paused, gesturing around vaguely, “all of this happen.”
He shrugged, reaching up to rustle his wet hair with the towel around his shoulders as he stepped past me. I stood for a moment, just watching as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Then, I decided now was as good a time as ever for a hot shower, in hopes that the water would still be warm.
It was.
I got out of the bathroom almost an hour later to find Hotch already asleep in bed. For him to immediately hit the hay proved that we’d worked too hard on the case. I snuck into bed next to him after shutting out the remaining lights, curling into the comforter for some warmth. The cold seeping into the room from the broken heater was getting a little bit noticeable, but luckily for me, he definitely ran hot. I realized it the second the warmth under the blankets hit me. I effectively passed out within a few minutes.
The next morning was especially warm as I woke before my alarm went off. The heater must’ve kicked back on sometime in the night. I went to stretch, but found it much more difficult to do than I had anticipated.
I looked down to see Hotch curled up against me, and my eyes immediately widened. I swallowed a lump in my throat that formed quickly. I certainly hadn’t been expecting to see him like this, with a strong arm holding me to him. It was… attractive?
It would be a lie to say I’d never noticed him before. Who couldn’t? Even if he somehow didn’t catch an eye the second he walked into a room, he just had an aura around him. Some kind of presence that could pull a person in before they knew what was happening.
But, now, in the same bed with his arm draped over my stomach and his breath against my neck… This was a whole new feeling.
It was butterflies and warm cheeks and— something that I probably shouldn’t feel while next to my boss. But, then again, he definitely shouldn’t be cuddling with a subordinate. We were both a little guilty.
He shifted in his sleep, his arm around me moving a bit until his fingers were just under the hem of my shirt. Cuddling was one thing, but if I felt his hand on much more of my stomach, I felt I might combust.
“Hotch,” I whispered.
He didn’t budge.
“Hotch,” I said, a little louder this time. “Hey.”
He shifted again, this time squeezing his eyes together a little harder.
“Time to wake up,” I said, my hand on his arm.
His eyes slowly opened, though they suddenly snapped open when he realized where he was. He pushed himself off of me, quickly glancing over me to confirm he really was doing what he thought he was.
“I’m sorry,” he rushed out.
“It’s alright. It was cold last night,” I said quickly, trying to soothe the nerves that were obviously eating at him. “At least it warmed up this morning.”
He shook his head as he stood from the bed, running a hand through his hair quickly. I swallowed, knowing he felt like he crossed a line.
“I really don’t mind,” I tried again.
“We should be downstairs soon,” he replied, glossing over my attempts. “I’ll be out soon.”
He walked into the bathroom without much of a glance in my direction. I huffed out a breath, quickly getting dressed before I heard the water in the sink stop. He opened the door right as I sat on the edge of the mattress again, hardly catching my eye as he did.
“Hotch,” I called, determined to get his attention.
He hummed in response, immediately ruffling through his bag as if there was something he was actually looking for. I stood, taking a few steps in his direction.
“Can you at least listen to me?”
I watched as his shoulders dropped with the breath he let out. He straightened, turning to face me.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, not meeting my eyes again.
“I’ve already told you it’s fine. You really need to take my word for it.”
“I was practically on top of you,” he said, looking at me at last.
Unfortunately, he finally looked right as my cheeks were heating up a tad. I didn’t expect that innocent of a phrase to have any effect on me, but apparently my brain had other ideas.
“You didn’t mean to. It was freezing last night, and we were kind of forced to share a bed.”
He was quiet again.
I continued, “Besides, when have I been the type to hide my emotions that well? If I was upset you would’ve known immediately. Honestly, you were keeping me warm.”
He cracked a small smile, though he tried to hide it.
“I promise I was okay with it. Really.”
He nodded. “Alright. Just— Don’t report me to HR.”
I laughed. “Deal.”
Half an hour later, the team was waiting in the lobby of the hotel for news on our travel arrangements. Hotch and Morgan had gone off to figure it all out, leaving the rest of us to sip on coffee and watch the blizzard outside.
“Well, technically, the blizzard ended 4 hours ago. Now, it’s really just a heavy snow,” Reid stated, hardly glancing away from the magazine in his hands.
Prentiss rolled her eyes, looking towards me for some kind of understanding. I smiled at her, sipping at my coffee. We heard voices soon thereafter coming towards our small group. Hotch and Morgan walked up, chatting quietly.
“We should be able to take off within the next few hours,” Hotch stated, glancing around at us. “I’ll be getting a call when they’re ready. Until then, let’s get lunch and make sure we’re packed up and ready to go.”
“Eating on the company dollar?” I asked with a smirk.
He looked at me, a small smile on his face and… a bit of a blush on his cheeks?
“Yes. So, make sure you all decide on someplace good.”
Now, when I looked back at Prentiss, she was the one with a smile on her face. One that wasn’t sympathetic in the slightest. I knew what was happening in that head of hers from the twinkle in her eye alone.
I started walking towards the elevator, knowing she’d follow me, but still hopeful that maybe she’d leave it be. My former assumption was correct.
She caught up just as the doors started shutting, crossing her arms as she stood next to me.
“So,” she started.
“So?”
“What was that?”
I sighed. “What was what?”
She quirked a brow when I looked at her. I shook my head, looking away again.
“You know what. I’ve got to say, I never expected to see Hotch blushing. What did you do to him?”
I chuckled. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh? Who did?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I asked, stepped forward as the doors of the elevator opened on our floor.
I hoped that line would shut her up for the time being, but that was once again wishful thinking. She practically chased me down the hall.
“You’re not getting away that easy.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Nothing actually happened.”
“He was smiling. And blushing.”
“You ever think it’s just because I’m charming?”
“No.”
I made a sour face, finally reaching my door. She raised a brow, giving me a proud smirk.
“I’ll find out, you know?”
“You’re sure about that?”
She shrugged. “Pretty sure.”
“Sure about what?” Hotch asked, walking up on us.
I looked away quickly, hoping to catch Emily’s eye before she said something she shouldn’t. Luckily for me, she got some sense in her head at the last second.
“Nothing. Just can’t pass up an opportunity to tease her.”
He raised a brow. “Right. Well, pack up. Sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can eat.”
She nodded once, sending me a quick wink before she turned and walked towards her own door. I finally unlocked the door, walking inside with Hotch hot on my heels. We silently packed the rest of our things, though neither of us had really unpacked all that much to begin with. He finished first, standing near the door to wait for me rather than leaving for the lobby. I glanced over my shoulder as I put my toiletries bag in the suitcase.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Just about.”
He hummed. “Prentiss was bothering you, huh?”
“When isn’t she?”
“What about?”
I shrugged. “I don’t even really know.”
He chuckled as I turned around. “You’re not a great liar.”
Maybe I liked him better when he was being shy about being all over me. He seemed a little too self confident now.
“Says you,” I replied with raised brows.
We made it to lunch in one piece, deciding that even though the roads were mostly cleared now, we’d stick close by.
Prentiss nudged me a few times during lunch, trying to get information out of me, but I refused. Though, it certainly didn’t help that I found myself looking at Hotch much more often than I usually would.
Maybe I’d had a small crush on him before, but now my brain wouldn’t stop reminding me of it. Every time he laughed or talked or moved or breathed. He was stuck in my head. It was ridiculous.
Embarrassment really came when I looked at him again only to find him looking at me. He quirked a brow as my eyes widened a bit at being caught.
Emily definitely caught that interaction.
I shook my head at her as she teased me, definitely noticing the self-satisfied smirk Hotch tried to hide at the interaction. He knew. Bastard.
We started the leave the restaurant when we got the okay from our pilot, but I didn’t get far before I felt a hand on my arm keeping me behind the others. I turned.
“I’d like to see you in my office when we get back,” he said with a quirked brow.
“What about?”
“We’re not sharing a room anymore, I need somewhere where I can speak to you in private.”
“You going to try to cuddle me again if I agree to be alone with you?”
“Not yet,” he replied, a smile barely there on his face. “Maybe next time. We’ll have to see how that talk goes when we’re home.”
I nodded, hiding a smile of my own. “Deal.”
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader#aaron hotchner fluff#gender neutral reader
654 notes
·
View notes
Text
An anon who was rereading Anyone asked me what would have happened if Izuku didn't like eggs and how you tell a supervillain you don't like what he made and that you want something. I have bravely tried to answer said ask but Tumblr laughed at my pain, so here is it, on a new post.
------------------------
When confronted with the super villain Izuku had accidentally broken out of the most secured prison in the country, a man who had basically walked out of said prison as soon as he hadn’t been restrained anymore, Izuku did the only thing any rational person would do.
He ran like hell. No shoes, no plan, nothing except Full Cowl roaring in his veins and he fled.
At least, he tried to.
Strong tendrils stopped him dead, then hands picked him up by his shoulders and suddenly, his feet weren't touching the ground and he was forcibly brought to the kitchen table.
''No, no, no,'' All for One said with the tone one would employ with a disobedient pet or a very young child. ''Your breakfast is going to get cold and we have so much to talk about. Sit. Enjoy the eggs. If you don't like them, I can make something else.''
And he dropped him on his chair, before putting the plate in front of him. Then, he sat at the other end of the table, facing Izuku, his own plate in front of him and he started to eat. Slowly, his manners perfect, while Izuku was dying of sheer stress over there.
Then, he looked at Izuku. Then at Izuku's plate.
''You're not eating?''
Izuku looked at the man who had literally reduced people to paste last night and then at his plate of eggs and bacon, then back at the lunatic who was probably going to skin him alive soon enough. He needed to do something, to get the time to find a way out of this mess.
Now, any reasonable human being would have eaten a bit of eggs and bacon – well, eaten the bacon in Izuku’s case – but he had just woken up, was in a pre-caffeinated state and truly, Izuku had never claimed to have the slightest working relationship with sanity.
“I don’t like eggs,” he blurted out.
The supervillain, the very same man who had literally gone through a prison riot of fellow villains like he was running through wet paper, was startled so badly by those four words that he dropped his fork.
“What do you mean, you don’t like eggs???” he asked like this was a ludicrous notion, like everyone’s favorite breakfast should be eggs and bacon.
“Never liked them,” Izuku lied, by pure spirit of contradiction, far more developed than for most people, for it had been left with quite the amount of room after the disappearance of all his survival instinct.
And it was indeed a lie because, once upon a time, it had been his favorite comfort food, but when he had been a kid, during one of those weeks where his mom was gone and the neighbor supposed to watch over him was busy forgetting his existence, he had gorged himself on it at every meal until he had gotten so sick of it that he had been unable to eat them ever again.
All for One watched him with something that went beyond annoyance, it was the patented look of someone who knew one was messing with him and the words “You’re a goddamn liar” were probably fighting to be left out but he had no proof that Izuku was bullshitting him and if even if he somehow had a lie-detecting-quirk, Izuku would keep denying it because he probably wasn’t making it out alive anyway so why deprive himself of the chance of annoying his would-be-killer?
And actually, why wait?
“I prefer waffles,” Izuku informed him because, after all, All for One had offered him to make him something else.
All for One stared at him without saying anything, probably thinking about all the ways he could have killed Izuku back when they were in Tartarus. Meanwhile, Izuku gave the illusion to be staring back at him when he was actually thinking about the fact the window made a faster exit but All for One would have the time to catch him before he landed seven floors lower while the door offered him more options.
All for One eventually abandoned his plate and started to rummage through the cupboards, going straight to the place where Izuku and his mom usually put the baking ingredients. Either everyone organized their kitchen the same way, or All for One had broken in so many homes that he was just a pro at using any kitchen he found himself into.
“Do you have flour?” the lunatic called out. “I can’t find it.”
Izuku had already flowed out of his chair and was making his way to the door by walking backwards, trying to radiate nonchalance and not the need to RUN AWAY WITHOUT LOOKING BACK.
“Try the highest shelves,” Izuku helpfully suggested, his hand on the doorknob.
It was where his mom put the heaviest pots and pans they usually didn’t use, since everyone in this household needed to climb a chair to access it. With a little luck, they would all fall on All for One.
Izuku left the apartment, not even bothering to fully close the door behind him, and he ran. He was in his pajamas, had found his sneakers by the door and they were still in his hands as he booked it out of his neighborhood as fast as Full Cowl could carry him and he didn’t stop until his building wasn’t in sight anymore. Then, he stopped on a bench, the couple flirting on it deciding they could do that somewhere else when they saw him approaching, and he put his sneakers on, took a deep breath, and decided to run some more, still in the opposite direction of where Todoroki was living, and then, he would figure out a plan.
Unfortunately, liquid shadows chose this moment to appear right in front of him, revealing All for One, who was holding a bag from Waffle Palace in one of his hands.
“I didn’t find any flour or sugar so I just ordered in.”
Some people would have screamed or been startled but Izuku had already ripped the bench from the ground and thrown it at All for One. The villain batted it away with his empty hand but it didn’t matter because Izuku was already half way through the park, or at least until black tendrils grabbed him and yanked him back.
“Your waffles are going to get cold,” All for One sternly informed him before grabbing him by the back of his shirt and he warped again, this time with Izuku under his arm.
400 notes
·
View notes
Text
141 + more with a reader that sleeps a lot
A/N: I’m back from the dead, haha Melanie Martinez kinnie. I have a cousin that sleeps till 3 in the afternoon like wtf😨 I live for these men. They’re fine as fuckkkkkkk I loved making this
Requests are open and follow for more <333
-
-
Simon “Ghost” Riley
• He won’t be worried that much about you
• Maybe you’re just tired so he lets you do your own thing
• He respects you and what you just do around the house so he allows it
• But notices how you nap like every 3 hours a day and he gets concerned
• You just drop wherever. The couch, the living room floor, he found you outside in the grass one time.
• He throws a blanket over you each time and rubs his temple wondering what he’s gonna do with you
• “Love, you know this isn’t healthy right?”
• You had just woken up from your 4th nap.
• You look at him with your puppy eyes
• “But I’m tired”
• Don’t melt his heart, it makes him weak.
• “Trust me you’re gonna regret it, now up you go.”
• He’ll throw you over his shoulder and makes you do some random activities for you not to fall asleep.
John “Soap” Mactavish
• Might do the same thing but not much as you.
• He thinks it’s weird that you just close your eyes and stay dead for a few hours
• Might wake you up for fun
• He likes seeing you angry
• He sprayed you with the bottle one time. That wasn’t a good thing to do let’s just say.
• But seriously he is a bit concerned for you
• So when he walked into the literal, pitched black living room with the tv on and opened the blinds to the sunlight you hissed like some savage cat
• He only looks at you with a weird look
• “Jesus…alright, up and at em love.”
• You’ll just throw the blanket over your face again
• Ok, that’s how you wanna play it? He can play that game too
• He’ll grab your legs and drag you off the couch
• “No Johnny” you’re hugging a pillow against your face and he keeps dragging you “Not letting go that easy love. Now up.”
• He’ll pick you up putting your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck
• “We’re going out, dunno where but you’re done with your hobby for today bonnie”
• You went to Starbucks together( ˘ ³˘)♥
John Price
• Concerned as any parent would be
• Limits your sleeping time
• Has his alarm on his phone to wake you up
• “Love rise and shine, well technically it’s 4 in the afternoon so…”
• You’re still dead.
• He’ll stroke your face to wake you or just come back to existence💀
• Kisses your forehead and shakes your shoulder gently
• If you wake up he’s not letting you go back to sleep
• “You ready to stay up now love?”
• You violently shake your head no but he takes you to the living room so you can watch tv or read a book
• He needs you to be more active🤷♀️
• Might consider taking you to a doctor but tries to help you first
• Watches your sleeping habits well
• If it’s insomnia he’ll comfort you in his lap as you rant on about your sleeping issues
• He’ll make you sleep at the same time as him and takes you out to keep you busy or distracted.
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
• Honestly it’s ok with him
• He just doesn’t like it when it happens for like a week straight
• 2-3 days is alright him because it’s a long tiring week so.
• When its 5 times every day he’s not allowing it
• Feels bad for waking you up
• “Baby?”
• You’re still in the world of dreams
• “Love, it’s time to wake up now”
• He uses that sweet soft voice you love so much
• But you won’t wake up
• He doesn’t know what to do that he might consider calling Price for help
• When you do wake up and look at him with your eyes with bags under his heart melts
• You must be having some issues
• He’ll make you sleep early so you’re ok for the next day
• He’ll take care of you, trust me
Alejandro Vargas
• Future husband mode activated
• Worries that waking you will get you angry
• But remembers it isn’t healthy
• So he uses your weaknesses to wake you up ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
• Mans kisses the crook of your neck and strokes your hair
• “Mi amor…wake up for me” That deep sweet voice he’s got for you
• You shift around in your sleep and open your eyes
• You just go to the bathroom and go back to the couch to sleep again
• He’s standing there frozen🧍
• “Ahora si, wake up mi vida.”
• He picks you up and that’s when you wake up
• You’ll slap his shoulder from anger
• “There we go…”
• He takes you to the bedroom and gives you a reason to be tired if you know what I mean🙂✨🌹
Rodolfo Parra
• AYYYY BABY😍😍😍😍
• He loves you too much
• He’s very worried for your health
• “Mi vida por favor, wake up.”
• You just won’t budge
• Worries a bit much now
• Like what if you’re staying up all night and he hasn’t noticed and so you sleep all day
• But that if that wasn’t the issue he would calm down
• You just sleep…like a lot
• Considers giving you melatonin for the night and taking you out the next day to have your energy
• He always gently touches you and when you wake he’ll give you something to eat
• He’s literally like a parent having to take care of you
• Will help you with your habits
König
• Won’t wake you up
• He’s scared
• Like what if you’re so peaceful and he upsets you from waking you up
• But reminds himself this is for your own good
•If you fall asleep on him then may he rest in piece.
• He’s not getting you off of him anytime soon and not easily
• Will nudge you shoulder hoping you open your eyes
• “Schatz??”
•You’re still sleeping. Are you even breathing??
• “Please wake up” oh now his voice is anxious
• “König what are you doing, it’s 8 in the morning”
• Wtf is wrong with you👁👄👁
• “Umm, meine liebe it’s 2 in the afternoon actually…”
• You reach out your arms like a baby wanting to be picked up
• So he does
• Picks you up gently as if you were the most fragile thing
• “Geliebte I think we should talk about your habits my dear.”
Alex Keller
• This mf let’s you do whatever you want
• He only gets curious when you’re in random places napping
• That’s when he realized it’s weird that you sleep a lot
• “Baby, you should’ve been awake 3 hours ago. It’s already 9 pm ”
• He’s literally standing in the living room and you’re on the carpet floor with a blanket over you
• Bro reaches for the blanket and throws it across the room and you wake up whining
• “Alex stop, let me sleep.”
• He gives you an almost offended look
• “It’s already been 5 years, it’s time for you to rise. Now go eat something”
• Drags you to the kitchen and makes you eat
• Now when it’s time for bed you don’t wanna sleep
• He’ll make you either way and holds you to his chest so you can’t escape
#call of duty#cod modern warfare#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#john price#call of duty mwii#simon riley#kyle gaz garrick#alejandro vargas#cod mw2#cod x reader#mw2 x reader#soap mactavish#call of duty mw2#gaz cod#modern warefare ii#mw2 fanfic#simon ghost riley#soap mw2#alex keller#alex modern warfare#konig cod#konig mw2#konig imagine#cod john price#gaz x reader#alejandro cod#call of duty rodolfo#rodolfo rudy parra#ghost cod
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! Your work is awesome and i think you should definitely write for the outsiders, I would eat that up😭
I don't really have a request or anything but something with dally would be AMAZING
OH MY GOD IM GONNA SCREAM I LOBE U
☆ Random random random Dallas Winston headcannons.
-- content : Headcannons !!
( Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader , you're dating dally ! ♡ )
a/n : dallas winston pls rise from the dead I miss you 🙏
okay first of all. Do you guys rmb he did rodeos or sum.. bc I feel like if you went to go watch him, he would want to look good and only for you.
"Do you see Dally anywhere?" You asked softly, looking around as you stood with Ponyboy and Johnny. "No, I don't see 'em anywhere." Johnny said, looking around. You kept looking and then you spotted him. "I found him! Look," You smiled, waving at dally. He looked good, and you knew it was for you.
chat omg if you guys were eating out he would hold his hand out underneath the table and hold your hand, doing the thumb thing omgomgomg pls dally come back from the dead bro..
You were eating out with the gang, sitting next to Dally of course. You were eating some fries and then Dally softly patted your thigh with the back of his hand and you looked down. He held out his hand and you smiled softly. You took his hand and interlocked your fingers with his.
I feel like if he knows you're ticklish or something, he'll like tickle you to get what he wants.
he's the type to wear your hair tie on his wrist.
EVEN THOSE BRA STRAP BRACELETS.
or maybe just a cute little bracelet with your name, or like your initial... haha...
this man loves loves loves physical touch. Not out in public as much, but in private?
boy
he's clingy and defo wants your attention
he defo suprises you randomly with the most random but cute stuff yk!!
omg this bitch gets scared when you use his full name goodbye
"Dallas Tucker Winston." You said softly, looking up at him. Dally looked down at you and his face dropped slightly. "What, what? What did I do? Doll, please tell me."
He likes it when you sleep on his chest.
If you get sleepy he'll be like "Sleep on my chest, I'll be okay."
love at first sight with you was kinda hard for him honestly
because yk im pretty sure he never experienced the actual feeling of love
and when he met you he was head. over. heels.
when he got home from hanging out with you he would be frustrated and confused because he didn't know what he was feeling.
obviously, he felt butterflies whenever he was around you
and when he confessed oh my god he was a whole different person.
lil bro was NOT the tough greaser we all know
lil bro turned into some cutie patootie
anyway, when you said yes he literally gave you a lil kiss on the forehead and gave you a big hug.
Walking with him at the park is so cute and usually calming.
I feel like when you guys are alone, he cries tears of happiness sometimes because hes so lucky to have you.
then he'll toughen up like the tough greaser he is and be like "why was I crying again??"
headcannons is all im thinkin abt rn plus these r lowk cute! :3
to all my outsiders fans out there (including me!!!), give some more requests gang!
#The Outsiders#dallas winston#dallas winston x reader#dallas winston x y/n#dallas winston headcanons
244 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 (𝑫𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏)
I wanted to do this cute little writing challenge @carolmunson created. You can find the rules here
CW: Eddie munson x reader, fluff. New relationship. Mention of weed at least once. suggestive theme toward the end, but it's nothing bad, really. A little moment of self depreciation.
WC:1.9k
prompt rules: the scene: a romantic night in at the trailer.
props included/mentioned (in passing or can hold bigger meaning): a throw pillow, vanilla frosting, a small notebook. dialogue included (can be manipulated slightly if needed, can be placed in any order): "i ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?" ; "aw, don't be like that. that's not even true." ; "and you like that?" ; "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."
A/n: Not proofread, so please ignore any mistakes. My first time doing a writing challenge, and this one was too adorable to pass up.
5:00 pm
Eddie was busy rushing around the trailer, making sure it was clean and perfect before you came over. You and him haven't been dating for too long now. He still wanted to make a good impression on you. His original plan was to take you out on a nice romantic date, but as his luck would have it, he just couldn't afford to right now.
So he opted to suggest for you to come by and have a nice romantic date at his place instead. Which you were all for. Eddie zoomed around the place with a tiny notebook in his hand. He had literally everything planned out for how the night is supposed to go.
He even cooked and baked for you. He doesn't even do that for himself. He was dead serious about you. No more chickening out just because he's scared of the possibility of getting hurt.
You met at the Hideout in town when you first moved to Hawkins. He helped get you a job there by sweet talking the owner. Since then, he's been following you around like a lost puppy
Eddie finished having the entire living room set up for you two. Throw pillows everywhere along with extra blankets. Little tea light candles on saucer plates are scattered about. He kicked his uncle wayne out hours ago to set everything up for your date. He wanted the mood and setting to be just how envisioned it.
He would religiously check his watch over and over again. You weren't late by any means. Eddie was just getting impatient. He wanted you here so bad. He needed you to see what all he's done.
5:30 pm rolls around.
Soft knocks on his door alerted that you were finally here.
You were standing on his porch, waiting for him to answer. You still held the little note he left you after work in your hand.
Hey, babe, I hope you're still ready for our date tonight. I know I am. You don't need to bring anything but yourself. I have everything we need. Miss you already.
- Eddie ᡣ𐭩
You reread it as you waited for him to open up for you. You didn't want to just barge in even though he's told you many times you absolutely could.
You knock again.
"Comin" His muffled voice yelled from inside. You could hear his feet pounding on the floor as he swung open the door.
"Hey!" You greeted with a big smile. "Can I come in?"
He opened the door fully ,ushering you inside with a slight bow. "Shit, yeah, come in. come in."
You walked in and stood by the front door, looking around, you noticed how he decorated and cleaned up for you. You smiled to yourself thinking about all the trouble he's gone through tonight just for you.
"You can have a seat or keep me company in the kitchen." He stood next to you but kept some distance.
"I'd love to. Ya need me to help with anything?" You walked slowly behind him to stand behind the counter.
Eddie definitely didn't want you to help. The only thing he needed you to do was simply be here. That's it. That's all he needed. Your presence and showing up were enough for him.
"Nope." He shook his head, continuing to spread vanilla frosting on the cupcakes he made.
You could tell he was nervous. He shouldn't be. While you haven't been dating for long, you figured you two were past being nervous around each other. Eddie did warn you that he wasn't always the best at relationships. He tried to be. He truly did. His fears of heartbreak and rejection are what held him back from opening up to someone. He wanted to change all of that with you. You still gave him a chance despite all of that.
There was silence for a couple of minutes as you stand next time. "Sooo, whatcha cookin? smells good."
"Spaghetti and for dessert homemade cupcakes straight from Betty crocker herself." Eddie glanced your way to see if he got a smile from you. Even better, he got a laugh out of you.
"Do you mind if I have one now?" You batted your lashes at him. You loved innocently flirting with him. He would get all flustered, and his cheeks would get red.
He looked between you and the cupcakes that he attempted at frosting. "Sure." He couldn't say no.
He was sucker for you already. You had him wrapped around your finger, and you didn't even know it.
You picked up a tiny cupcake that was covered in ninety percent icing. You took a big bite, getting the vanilla frosting all over your lips and nose. Eddie watched in amusement with a small blush on his cheeks.
"Hang on, let me do something." He leans forward, giving the tip of your nose a quick kiss. "You had some frosting from the cupcake-"
Your face got hot as you realized he was kissing away the frosting.
"I have icing on my lips, too." You teased. You wanted to poke the bear and see how far you could go. Eddie took the hint and knew you were messing with him.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine." He puckered up his lips to give you a sweet kiss. "The frosting tastes way better this way."
You can tell he's loosening up the longer you're alone with him. At first, he seemed on edge. As if he was still trying his hardest to impress you. Or to do his best and not scare you off. He didn't have to worry about a thing. You were just as serious about him as he was about you.
You noticed a small black notebook on the counter next to splatters of spaghetti sauce. You sneakily make your way over to it and have peak while he's busy. His eyes were trained on making little smiley faces on the cupcakes. Flipping through the pages, you saw how he wrote down tonight's schedule for your date. He had everything planned out down to if he'd ask you to spend the night or let you leave.
Turning the next page, you found little love notes scribbled through made out to you. You glance his way, and he's still busy huming to himself while adding sprinkled to the cupcakes. You closed it and sneakily put it back. The tiny notebook seemed very personal from the quick glimpse you got from it. Either way, your heart was melting at the thought of Eddie wanting this night to be perfect.
"I figured we could chill out in the living room while we eat. Watch some movies, too."Eddie spoke up.
"Sounds perfect to me." You stepped out of the kitchen to lounge back on his couch.
Eddie followed behind you with two big bowls of spaghetti he made. "I'll get the drinks for us. Anything special? Water? Soda?"
You grabbed your bowl from his hands. "Got any Doctor Pepper?"
"I suuuuure do." He winked.
He rushed back in with a beer in one hand and a plastic cup full of ice with your drink in the other. "I ran out of like, nice cups, Is this okay?"
"Yes, Eddie I wasn't expecting to drink, Dr. Pepper from a champagne glass." You carefully took your drink.
"Listen -" He paused, sitting next to you. "I just want you to know you mean a lot to me. And if i could provide it, all of your drinks would be poured in some fancy ass cup." He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt awkward after saying that, but it was all true.
Eddie really wasn't a pro at this sort of thing. he hoped by now you knew how special already are to him. Even with his shitty analogies. He hoped you got the message.
"That was...one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me." You took a big sip, Dr Pepper smiling in your cup.
"You're such a smartass."
Now, it was his turn to laugh. He got up and went over to the tv, picking up the three movies he "rented."
"Went to family video got a couple of things to watch - and a special one for later." He wiggled his eyebrows. The "special one" was literally Star Wars. He's been dying to watch it with you ever since you told you never seen it.
You rolled your eyes. "That guy Steve give you a deal?"
"Sure did. All I had to do was give an ounce for free." Eddie held up three VHS tapes in one hand, showing his victory.
"Okay, then what movie are we watching first?" You nodded, taking the throw pillow next to you in your lap.
"What about critters?" He suggested.
You shook your head and grimaced. "Eww !no, that movie is stupid it's just a bunch of hairballs attacking people."
Eddie snorts, popping the movie into the vcr anyway." Now you know how my uncle wayne feels cleaning out our shower drain."
You fake gagged. The last thing you want to imagine is globs of Eddie's hair being pulled from a shower drain as you eat.
"So, ummm, I was thinking," it was your turn to get a nervous now. "Are you free tomorrow?"
He frowned. "No. I wish. I have my D&D club to...morrow." He started to hesitate through speaking.
"D&d club?" You repeated. "Dungeons and Dragons? That kind of D&d?"
"Yep." He spoke a little too loud and a little too fast.
The intro to the movie is already playing, but neither one of you are interested.
"And you like that sort of stuff?" You quickly realized how that probably came off wrong, and it's not how you intended. "I mean, you just never mentioned it before."
Truth is, he doesn't know why he never mentioned it. Maybe it's because he was always told it was just a fantasy game. That he was too old to be playing it. Eddie didn't care what anyone thought of him except for you. Which deep down is probably why he didn't tell you.
"Yeah, sweetheart, you're dating a bit of a loser." He sighed. Any minute now, he was expecting you to make fun of him. Or call him a loser, too.
That never came.
He shouldn't assume you would see him like that. Primarily over something harmless as playing Dungeon and Dragons.
Make no mistake Eddie didn't view himself as a loser either. He got too accustomed to hearing people calling him that based on the way he dressed and his hobbies. He didn't see himself that way, but others did.
Your face softens "aw don't be like that. That's not even true!"
You looked at him for a moment. Taking in his side profile. You could tell he was slowly slipping into a funk, and you didn't want that.
You by no means have ever thought Eddie was a loser. He was a sweet, gentle, and very caring guy. A little hyper at times. But you loved that about him too.
"I'd like to watch you play sometime. If you wouldn't mind."
Eddies eyes light up. "I could always teach you how to play instead."
"I'd love that. Why didn't you tell me any of this?" You turned your body so you're now facing him. You were still hugging that throw pillow so tight.
"Well, I was trying to play hard to get. if I told you I was a dungeon master for my club-" His tone dripped with sarcasm as he continued on.
He was trying to lighten up the mood a bit more. "You wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me. bad enough, you couldn't seem to resist my gorgeous hair."
Eddie waved a hand through his hair, letting it fly over his shoulder. He was cut short when you decided to take that throw pillow from your lap and thwap the back of his head with it.
"Ow!" He laughed, looking at you in shock.
"Your hair is hard to resist," your tone matching his sarcasm, "and miss." You mumbled under your breath.
"Oh please, I'm irresistible." He chuckled.
You went to go strike him again with the pillow, but this time, he caught it.
"If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem." Eddie playfully warned, snatching the throw pillow from your hands.
"Oooh, and what exactly are you gonna do about it?" You taunted.
"I dunno maybe kiss you again. Maybe I'll touch you a little bit, see if I can get you to squirm." He smirked and bit his lip, waiting for your reaction.
That shy nervous wreck of a man that greeted you at the front door was long now.
Your eyes widened as you huffed. "Shut up, Eddie."
"Thought so, now watch the movie our date isn't over yet."
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson blurb#writing challenge#eddie munson fluff
200 notes
·
View notes
Text
I know this post is only for like two people, but I’m going to make it anyway. So, my obsession with Dead Friend Forever finally reached critical levels and I resorted to binge-watching The Hidden Character just to get more content. For those that don’t know, The Hidden Character (which they literally call “THC”) was the reality show Be On Cloud used to cast DFF. It is bad. Like really bad. And not in a it’s-so-bad-it’s-good-type way. It’s one of the most exploitative pieces of media I have ever watched. I walked into it with a favorable view of BOC, Mile, Apo, and Pond (the CEO), and walked out of it hating all of them.
A small collection of things that happened over the 11-episode run:
Everyone was told that they had to share every single aspect of their life with the viewers or they would be eliminated. And, in fact, the first person eliminated was told that it was because he wasn’t being open enough with the audience. They filmed these boys—one of whom was only seventeen at the time—talking explicitly about their sex lives. Which is, of course, fine to talk about. It’s not fine to air it on television! Even some of the games themselves contained sexually suggestive content (i.e. Which do you prefer "eating" with—your hands or your mouth? If you were to cheat on your significant other, would it be just sex or a full-blown affair?)
During the first part of the show, everyone had a secret that the other players were supposed to guess. One of the player’s secret was that he used to be homophobic. (Questionable casting for a company that only hires men, but I digress). He was praised for having changed his mind. In contrast, JJay’s secret was that he was raised in an abusive household and had once hit his father. Pond crucified the poor guy for this. He made him sit there in front of the whole cast sobbing and apologize for hitting his dad who was an abusive asshole.
After the first half of the show—which served absolutely no purpose at all—we finally move onto the acting portion. This is, after all, supposed to be a talent competition. The judges were so mean. Especially Apo. He was like the Simon Cowell of BOC. There was no constructive component to their criticism. The fact that any of these people are still acting is honestly unbelievable. I would have gone home and cried myself to sleep and then never stepped foot on a stage again.
At one point, each of the groups was assigned a scene from KinnPorsche to act out (because BOC very clearly owns no other IP). One of the pairs was given the scene where Porsche gives Kinn a handjob in the bathroom. I wish I was kidding.
The judges constantly told the contestants to make their scenes feel new and different but any time the actors actually tried to change anything, they complained it was “too” different and the original script was already perfect so who were they to think they could create something better. Once again, Apo and Mile, the original actors of these scenes, are the ones judging them! Like of course they like their version better. What is even happening??
And finally, the whole fucking thing was rigged for Ta to win. Like don’t get me wrong, I love Ta and I think he did a great job, but he was the only one who came into that competition with a built-in fanbase and the winner was chosen by popular vote.
It was all just…baffling. Especially from a company that claims to be trying to change the industry. Like if you want the industry to stop being so exploitative to its actors, maybe start with yourself? It also makes those condescending “how dare you watch our shows just for the NC scenes” press releases they do every week even more annoying.
I have no clue what the reaction to this show was while it was airing but god I hope they never do it again. It literally makes me feel so weird watching DFF now. I feel like those poor kids are being held hostage. Maybe CEO Pond’s been the one under the mask the whole time 🔪
#y'all help#did anyone else watch this or was it all just a fever dream?#the hidden character#dead friend forever#like don’t get me wrong I will continue to watch dff because i’m obsessed#and because i want to support these actors and what they were forced to go through#but idk if I’ll be watching much from boc after this
214 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Can't Hurt Me! Haruchiyo Sanzu (Tokyo Revengers)
You work in a coffee shop, another day of being bored and fake smiling at customers, until a pink-haired man comes crashing through the window and meets his match. Sanzu x Reader (Bonten Timeline)
'Only two more hours until I can close this place,' you mutter under your breath, leaning on the counter with your hands on your face.
Your eyes roam lazily over the scattered handful of customers in the coffee shop. A loved-up couple in the corner huddled together whispering and blushing, a few businessmen and women tapping away at their phones, and a wannabe writer who practically lives here. All day everyday just like you, you think gloomily.
Still leaning on one hand, you tap your fingers on your other hand impatiently on the counter, musing over ways you could close the shop early for the day. You had three options that sprung to mind; one, you could make up an excuse about a gas leak since the building down the road had one a month ago, two, act crazy so everyone leaves and you potentially get fired, or three, bide your time patiently so you earn every dime of your paycheck.
You decide on option three, blowing out a loud sigh. You needed the money, you couldn't afford to lose this job in the current economy. Making coffee wasn't your ideal life, the job wasn't that hard, it just got boring in the late afternoon when the crowds thinned and you were left to your own devices.
You pick up the rag over your shoulder, deciding to wipe the counter down one more time when a loud crash startles you and snaps you out of your thoughts.
A man quite literally comes flying through the window, sending glass shards across the room, luckily there were no customers in those window seats. Customers scream in terror, as the man, bloodied and bruised rises to his feet, but unlike everyone else, you weren't terrified because things just got interesting.
As if he knew you were watching him, his eyes snap in your direction, his gaze fierce and piercing. You could see why people would be scared of him because he had interesting scars around his mouth and screamed 'mafia' vibes. But right now all you could think about was how you had another mess to clean up and your boss wasn't going to be happy.
'Will you stop dripping blood all over my clean floors?' you ask, voice monotone as you meet his gaze.
He growls, his voice dark and dripping with menace, 'Excuse me?'
'I just mopped,' you reply, and stand up straight, stretching to work out some kinks in your back from leaning over.
He reaches around his back, pulls a gun from the waistband of his trousers and points it directly at you, a wicked grin creeping onto his lips. At this point what few customers had stayed to gawk flee from the shop leaving the two of you alone.
You stare him down as he chuckles, 'It's just the two of us now.'
You nod, 'Great, I was looking for an excuse to close early.'
His grin wavers. He tries to take a step towards you but staggers backwards, wincing. Whatever fight he'd been in, it was catching up to him, 'quick. Help dress my wounds.'
He waves his gun at you with shaky hands, 'or I'll shoot you dead.'
You clear your throat and raise a single eyebrow, 'only if you ask me nicely sir.'
His eyes widen in shock, probably not used to being spoken back to, 'What did you say?'
You sigh loudly again, imagining being anywhere but here right now, 'did your hearing get damaged when you came crashing through the window?'
'NO!' He snaps.
You motion behind him towards the front door, 'Come on, then. Walk outside, and enter with a better attitude. I'll treat your wounds, but you have to be respectful.'
Confusion, anger and something else flash across his face while you watch him with disinterest.
'Who do you think you are? Telling me what to do,' he waves his gun at you again as he speaks.
Your tiredness turns into anger, 'and who the hell do you think you are? If you don't want to bleed out, you need to...ask...me...nicely.'
He stares at you, his mouth agape, speechless. Then he grits his teeth, 'Fine. Will you please kindly help me with my wounds?'
You smile a little, 'there, was that so hard?'
You pull out the first aid kit from under the counter and walk around the counter holding it in front of you as you carefully approach him. You reach out to pull off his suit jacket, but he flinches away.
'What are you doing?' he gasps.
You roll your eyes, 'I need to be able to see the wounds to treat them.'
He blinks a couple of times, realisation dawning on his face, 'Oh, right...go ahead...'
You extend your hand again slowly as if he were a dangerous animal that might bite. This time he lets you help him out of his jacket which you place over the back of a nearby chair, while he winces.
You let him remove his waistcoat, tie and shirt which was bloodied. It was a lot to take in coming face to face with his bare chest, he was in good physical shape. You'd think he was carved out of stone if it wasn't for the warmth that came off his body reminding you he was human. You quickly tell your brain to get out of the gutter with dirty thoughts, seeing the amount of blood on his chest, there was a lot of it.
The main wound was on his right ribcage, and looked like someone had stabbed him, but he had other cuts and gashes across his arms, and even his face, but some of those could have been from being thrown through a glass window.
You take a deep breath, 'let me guess, I'd hate to see the other guy?'
'Other guys,' he grumbles
You pull out a disinfectant wipe and dab at the cut on his face just to the left of one of his scars.
'FUCK YOU! OW!!!' he shouts.
You pull the wipe back in surrender, 'sorry, sorry,' you mumble, 'I should have warned you that this might sting a little.'
He grunts, and you move back in to dab the cut with a much more gentle touch, 'do you have to?'
You bite your lip, trying to hold back your laughter, he's awfully scared for a tough guy, 'if it gets infected, it's going to hurt a whole lot more.'
You try to quickly clean the smaller cuts and gashes not wanting him to lash out at you because he couldn't handle a little pain. After throwing out the bloody wipes, you unroll the bandage and start to tackle the deeper wound on his ribcage. He grunts and grimaces as you wrap the bandage tighter and tighter around his body.
'You really should go to the hospital, looks like this might need stitches,' you observe, as you wrap, noticing some blood seeping through.
He huffs, 'I couldn't care less about how I look.'
You stop your work and pull back looking at him with your own grin. His perfectly styled pink hair and smart clothes, all screamed I care, 'sure you don't.'
You cut the excess bandage and tape it down, 'how did you get into this mess if you don't mind me asking.'
He eyes you suspiciously, 'what do you care?'
You shrug your shoulders, 'Call me curious. Maybe I'd like to avoid ending up in a similar situation if it isn't safe around here anymore.'
He scoffs, trust me, I don't think you need to worry about that.'
You match his scoff, 'why not?'
He eyes you up and down smirking, 'You don't seem the type to get into trouble.'
You chew your lip, weighing up his words, 'Is that a compliment or an insult?'
He shrugs, 'You decide.'
You smile and puff out your chest proudly, 'compliment then.'
You watch him put his shirt back on along with the waistcoat which he leaves open, before slowly and carefully putting his jacket back on with the tie now in the pocket. When he's done you take a step back and finally take in the messy scene around you, 'now you can help me clean this place up.'
His mouth hangs open, 'you want me to what?'
You motion around you at the broken glass and blood, 'Clean up. Look at the mess you made. I've had a long day...a long week... and an even longer year.'
You slump down into a nearby chair, suddenly feeling the full weight of your exhaustion after the small adrenaline rush.
He shakes his head, 'do you think I care?'
You click your tongue, 'I don't know. I don't care.'
His brows furrow together, 'why aren't you afraid of me?'
You shrug a shoulder, 'I'm too tired to be afraid of you right now.'
He squints at you, curiosity in his eyes, 'You should be terrified of me. You should be begging me to spare your life.'
He prowls towards you, wearing a menacing grin, 'Don't you know who I am? Don't you know who I work for?'
'Enlighten me then,' you reply, back in your monotone voice from before.
His eyes narrow to snake-like slits as he takes in your bored expression, 'I'm one the most powerful and dangerous men you'll ever meet. I'm Haruchiyo Sanzu.'
You blink a couple of times, you couldn't care less who he thought he was, you hadn't heard his name before or even seen him around his area before.
He fingers the gun which was back in his waistband, 'I could hurt you so bad. You'd wish you were dead.'
You roll your eyes which you'd done a lot during this encounter, 'Sanzu, is it? I work in customer service. You can't hurt me in any way that matters.'
He looks frozen, almost like a deer in headlights. You manage to make yourself stand up and take off your apron which had his blood on and fling it on the table ready to call it a night.
'You--You don't--' he stammers, and this time when he eyes you up and down there's something different in his eyes, like he's seeing you for the first time.
You put your hands on your hips, ready to hand back any crap he decided to throw your way, 'What?'
He looks flustered, and he can't stop staring at you so you continue speaking, 'What? Spit it out. I don't have all night.'
As you step around him he manages to speak, 'You look better than this place, that's all. You don't belong here.'
You look down at your feet, suddenly very aware of yourself. You try to keep the heat from showing on your cheeks at his genuine words. He was the first person other than yourself who'd told you that you were better than this place.
'What do you mean by that?' you ask.
'It was meant as a compliment, geeze you're annoying,' he snaps back.
You pout, 'didn't sound like one with your tone is all.'
You flip the sign on the door from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED' before heading back behind the counter to retrieve the brush and pan along with the mop bucket, ignoring Sanzu, though you could feel his eyes on you.
'Well, uh...I guess I'll be going then,' he says.
You glance over your shoulder at him to see he is checking out the name tag on your apron, '...nice name.'
You slap your hand down on the counter, at least pay for a coffee, you've done enough damage.'
He continues to stare at you with the same shocked expression, that seems to have a begrudging respect undertone, you guess he'd never come across somebody quite like you.
'Okay, fine,' he says calmly, and approaches the counter taking his wallet out of his back pocket instead of the gun.'
'Err...wh-what do you want?' you stutter, not expecting him to take up your offer or even pay.
'Surprise me,' he replies, a lazy smirk on his lips.
He knew he was affecting you, maybe getting the upper hand on you after your attitude towards him earlier. So you decide to make him the simplest drink, not just because you are lazy, but because you think it suits him.
'Double espresso, black,' you call out, putting the drink in front of him.
He picks it up and sips it, his eyes sparkling at you over the cup's rim. He doesn't make any noise of approval or disapproval. Instead, he passes a crisp one hundred across the counter towards you, 'Keep the change.'
You gape at him, staring at the money, as he swiftly finishes the drink and throws the takeaway cup in the bin next to the counter. Wordlessly, he struts out of the shop with his head held high, leaving you with the mess he'd made.
#anime blog#anime fanfiction#anime imagines#tokyo revengers fanfiction#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo revengers imagines#tokyo rev#tokyo rev imagines#tokyo rev fanfiction#tokyo revengers sanzu#tokyo rev sanzu#sanzu x reader#sanzu haruchiyo#sanzu x you#tokyo revengers bonten#tokyo rev bonten#bonten#sanzu bonten#sanzu haruchiyo x reader#tokyo revengers
203 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey! I'm the one with the ' delulu' request. I mean like yn and AZ were mates and they found out before the amarantha thing happened. And while when Rhysand was attending the ball(?) That trapped the high lords, Yn was with him too as his second-women(kinda you know) and then they can't get out and lose connection to thier family and in those 50 years the red head bitch kills yn just to torment Rhys and he literally can't do anything about it. When everyone is free and with thier family, happy and all, az is happy too that Rhys came home but he just wont(can't) accept the fact that yn is dead and is never coming back. He's delusional (delulu).
Don't grieve.
Summary: Azriel's going mad, and he won't except it.
•○●⛦●○•
Tw: mental illness. this bitch's gonna hurt
A/n: hey anon! I beg for your forgiveness because it took me so long to write this. Please don't hate me, and please tell me you forgive me or else I'll go and cry in a corner, making no noise, pretending I don't exist 😭
(Also, i hope I didn't misunderstand what you wanted azzie to be delulu about)
•○🌑○•
Azriel paced back and forth, having just been informed by his shadows that his High Lord had returned.
It had been fifty years since Azriel had seen Rhysand.
And it had been fifty years since he had seen her.
And now they were back.
The Shadows hadn't mentioned anything about his mate though, but he let it slide, planning on interrogating them later. For now, he needed to see his brother and his mate.
•○🌑○•
Azriel barged in through the door to the sitting room, finding Mor, Cassian and Amren already there. All of them, except Amren, had tears in their eyes.
Azriel took in the whole place, noting that his mate wasn't in the room. Maybe she was freshening up?
His heart rate picked up, the urge to go find her overpowering any rational thought he had.
But then his eyes landed on his brother, and he grinned. In what felt like an eternity, Azriel grinned.
Rhysand looked like he'd been through hell and back, which he technically had. He had lost so much of his weight and muscles, his skin color also having become pale. In short, he looked sick.
Rhys gave Azriel a pained smile back, but Azriel didn't think much of it. Azriel briskly walked up to his brother and pulled him in for a hug, laughing.
When Azriel pulled back, his eyes again went around the room in search of his mate.
But again, she was not here.
"Where's Y/n? Is she freshening up?"
Everyone looked away from him, and Azriel's smile faltered. But then he grinned and muttered. "Are you trying to keep my mate away from me? You do know that that won't work though, don't you? I'll have my shadows bring me to her."
No one spoke, until the silence became unbearable and Cassian broke it. "Az..."
Azriel glanced at Cassian, his brows farrowing. "What's going on you people? Are you about to ask me for ransom to see my mate?"
Azriel was beeing more cheerful than he usually was, but maybe that's what a mating bond did to people. What meeting your mate after five decades did to people. Azriel blinked when nobody laughed. Mor gasped for breath as more tears ran down her face, sniffling.
"Azriel... Y/n, she... is gone." Rhys responded.
"Gone where?"
"To where the–"
"She's dead, boy." Amren put a stop to Rhys's pathetic explanation.
And she did nothing to gentle the blow.
Y/n wasn't dead. Azriel refused to believe that. And that only meant this was some elaborate joke they were playing on him.
He laughed. "What?"
Mor turned to him, pity and sympathy shining from her eyes. "She's gone Azriel. She will never come back. Amarantha... she..."
Rhysand toom a deep breath, nodding to himself before speaking, as if he was trying to convince himself. "Amarantha wanted to control me, and the only way she could do that was by torturing Y/n. The bitch one day decided she was bored and let her cronies as well as many other fae bastards, mostly from Autumn Court, tear into Y/n. She watched, wanting to see how long Y/n would be able to hold up. I don't think Amarantha thought they would kill her, as that would mean there was no one she could use to control me. But Y/n died by the hands of her cronies."
Azriel smiled lazily. "You really think I believe the bullshit you are spewing right now? Come now, Rhys, you should know better than that. Fifty years under that mountain has made you lose your head. Go take a nice long bath, fly around Velaris for some time. A little fresh air after fifty years of routing under there would do you good. Maybe– hopefully– clear the garbage up there."
Azriel turned away, walking towards the door when a shadow slithered up to his ear and whispered that Y/n was nowhere in Velaris.
"Hmm. Maybe she decided to take a vacation with a friend of hers?"
That was stupid, considering there was no way in hell that Y/n would rather be with a friend than come to meet Az. But that was the only reason he could think of, because he would not, not in a million years, accept that Y/n was dead.
He walked towards the door, his posture relaxed as he opened the door. He glanced back once, giving the bewildered looking inner circle a smile, and called, "See you later. Have some work to do."
•○🌑○•
Shadows pov.
Azriel was practically waltzing as he went around the kitchen, getting all the ingredients he needed as he mixed the batter for the cake, humming a tune she loved.
"She loved chocolate so much. Do you think she'll be surprised?"
He asked his shadows, who simply floated around him, not daring to correct his thoughts. The one time they had, Azriel had launched into a screaming fit, so loud that nearly the whole of Velaris would have heard him.
So they watched as their master continued mixing the batter, then pouring it into a mould. He was all alone in the house, having moved in with Y/n into their new home soon after accepting the bond.
"She will turn four hundred and fifty this year. Can you imagine? It will be so exciting! I just wish she returned home soon."
It had been one year since the High Lord of Night Court had returned, and their master still refused to believe that his mate was no longer alive.
A knock sounded on the door, and Azriel looked up. He walked towards the door, opening it to find Cassian standing on the front porch, smiling.
"Come on in." Azriel spoke, turning away and walking back into the kitchen.
The Shadows watched as the general took in the mess around the kitchen. He swallowed before speaking.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm baking a cake for Y/n. She loved it when I did. It's her birthday today."
Pity entered the General's eyes at the enthusiasm in the shadows' Master's voice.
"Az..." Cassian began gently, but he stopped when Azriel's head whipped up, fury shining in his hazel eyes. The general swallowed again. "That's amazing."
Azriel smiled. "You can have some too if you want. But you would have to save some for her. She will be pissed if you ate all of it."
"Are you for real? I can have some too? Thank you so much Az."
Azriel nodded, smiling happily.
"Did you come here for a reason? Was there something you needed to tell me about?"
The General cleared his throat. "Uh yes. I was sent by Rhys. He wanted to know if you wanted to go on a mission today."
"Why?"
"Oh its just... there has been unrest in one of the Illyrian camps, and Rhys wanted to send someone to check on it. He was hoping you would want to go, but if not, he'll have to send someone else."
The Shadows knew that wasn't the only reason. It was because today was Y/n's birthday, and the high lord wanted to make sure the spymaster had something to occupy his time with instead of wallowing in her memories.
"He'll have to send someone else. It's her birthday today. I can't go on missions today."
The General clenched his jaw, nodding. "See you later then, brother."
The Shadows watched their master nod, cleaning around the kitchen. The general turned away, heading for the door.
"Take care brother." Azriel called, and the general waved before he left.
•○🌑○•
She was smiling at him from the opposite end of the tent.
She looked beautiful in the simple flowy white gown, and he felt like he was falling in love all over again.
Everything was settled, Koschei and the human queens removed from the picture, and most of them were unscathed.
Most of them.
Azriel wasn't.
He had been caught by the human queens guards, held captive and tortured for information while war raged outside.
After the war had been won, his brothers had found him dying in the torture chamber, waiting for his death. They had brought him to the tent in which Madja was operating, the inner circle rushing in behind them.
As he lay bleeding and battered on a table in the healers tent, his family gathered around him, he thought it a fitting end for him. He tortured people his whole life, and he was going to meet his end in a similar way.
"Hold on Az, just a few more moments. Everything will be fine." Rhys mumbled.
Azriel shook his head, his eyes never leaving his mate's. "Let me die. Maybe then I will meet my love again."
"She–"
"Died. I know. I was probably hoping there'd be a miracle. Or maybe I was just delusional."
"Az, please, just hold on."
His mate smiled at him, and Azriel's chest felt lighter than ever. He watched her intently as she stood from the chair she was in, making her way over to him. He gave her a small smile.
"She is here now."
Everyone stiffened. "What are you talking about Az?" Cassian questioned.
Azriel vaguely motioned towards her, as he couldn't move much without his body seizing up. "She is here. Let me go, brothers. I'll finally able to be with her again."
"What do you mean she is here?" Cassian had gone pale, frantically looking around. "No one is here."
Y/n came to stand next to the table. She observed Cassian and the rest of the inner circle before turning back to Azriel. "They can't see me." She smiled gently, glowing slightly. And Azriel watched her the way he'd watched her the first time he'd seen her. His mouth gaping open at her beauty, his eyes slightly wide. "How are you my love?"
"Miserable." He whispered.
She nodded. "I can understand. It hurt when I was dying too." She then took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. "We do not have much time. You only have two options. You can either choose to let the healers help and live, or let it all go."
"If- if I let it all go... will I be with you?"
His beloved nodded. "But I wish you would let the healers help you. I want you to love a long and happy life."
Her voice was sad and strained, as if she didn't want to say them but had to.
"But I want to be with you. I can't live a happy life without you."
"Then let go Azriel. Let it all go. Say goodbye." Her eyes glittered. "I will be here when you rise."
He didn't know what she meant by rise, but he was too tired to care. His body was numb at this point, his eyes drooping, begging for some rest.
Azriel glanced at his family, who stared at him in confusion. He'd simply been whispering, and they apparently couldn't see her. Of course they would be confused.
Azriel have them a satisfied smile. "Tell them to leave me alone. The healers."
"Why?" Rhys's voice broke on the word.
"Because she's here, and we can be together again. So let me go brother."
"Azriel... please brother. Don't give up so quickly."
Azriel shook his head, his eyes starting to close.
"Don't miss me to much. Don't grieve. Be happy."
The healers had stopped working on him the moment he began speaking, and by now he had lost too much blood.
Thank the mother.
Just then, Azriel felt as if he was stepping out of a tight suit. Like he had become weightless, lighter than air.
He blinked his eyes open, which he could do without any resistance. He looked around, seeing everything clearly. Hear every sound clearly.
Then he sat up, but no one paid him any mind. He blinked in confusion, as his eyes searched the room. His eyes landed on the figure nearby, smiling softly at him.
Y/n.
She lifted her hand towards him, beckoning him closer, and he drifted to her. As soon as his hand met hers, he felt like he was home, finally.
Y/n's eyes went behing him, sadness painting her features. He followed her gaze to a heartbreaking sight.
There, around the table where his body was, where he had been, the inner circle wept.
Cassian was bent over the table, his head was on Azriel's chest as he screamed and sobbed at the top of his lungs, tears rolling down onto Azriel's armor. His fingers were curled into the metal of Az's armor, so tightly that blood had begun welling in some of the places.
Rhys was leaning on the table, staring at Azriel's face, tears running down his face and dripping onto the table. He did nothing, just stared, devastation on his face. He gave no reaction when Feyre placed a hand on his arm.
Feyre herself was crying, a hand over her mouth to contain her sobs. Mor buried her head in Feyre's neck, clutching her tightly as the blonde cried.
Then there was Nesta, who stared at Azriel too, her hand on her mate's back to comfort him as he continued screaming, the agonising roars echoing through the silent night.
Amren, who had been standing near the Azriel's foot, quietly walked up to his head. She dragged a hand through his blood caked hair, sucking in a sharp breath. She looked distraught, and that was big thing for Amren. She then leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Azriel's head beside turning on her heel and waking out the tent.
Azriel turned to his mate, who gave him a shaky smile. He returned it, and after a final glance at his family, he let her lead him away.
It was only a matter of time before they had to go back to their normal lifestyle.
Azriel only hoped they didn't grieve him for long.
•○🌑○•
General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @lizziesfirstwife
#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#Acotar fanfic#rhysand#mating bond#a court of thorns and roses#azriel fluff#acotar fandom#acotar series#Shadowsinger#spymaster#fluff#azriel fic#azriel fanfic#sarah j maas#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#Acotar writing#acotar fluff#acotar x reader#reader insert
380 notes
·
View notes
Text
Living Each Day Like You’re Already Dead | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬.
Kinktober masterlist.
Happy Halloween everyone!💕 This is my submission to the Bump in the Night collab. I hope you enjoy it, and that it kinda makes sense ahhh!
Summary: Moving into your dream home should’ve been an idyllic experience, until strange occurrences begin to happen. It seems like the former occupant doesn’t want you living here, or does he?
Pairing: ghost!Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.
Warnings: 18+, dub-con, spectrophilia, intoxication, choking, blood!mentions, allusions to death/murder (not reader), cunnilingus, spanking, creampie, degradation, not proofread!
Word Count: 6.7k.
“Babe, where’d you get the creepy hologram in the bathroom? It's so realistic I literally thought someone was watching me pee.” Tatami scrunched her nose in distaste as she reached for another shot glass, pouring whisky into it before throwing it back with a shake of her head.
“What?” You raised a brow as you placed your drink on the kitchen counter.
“The dude in the mirror,” She slammed the shot glass down, “Right by your walk-in, I didn’t even wanna stare in the mirror when I was washing my hands.”
“You’re just drunk,” You laughed it off, shaking your head as you watched her refill the glass, “You screamed when the guy dressed as the killer clown came in.”
“Listen” She held her palm in the air, “That costume was way too fucking realistic and clowns are creepy okay?”
You tried to brush it off, but this wasn’t the first time that someone you’d brought home had complained about seeing things. The day you moved in, the removal company had only been working for a few hours before you heard stories of them seeing dark red eyes in what was going to be the master bedroom. One man was so spooked he dropped his end of your couch going up the stairs so it knocked into the wall, damage that the company were more than happy to compensate for but the man still refused to step back inside your home. You weren’t even upset about the damage to the wall, but you appreciated the hefty discount.
The next happened a few weeks later when you invited a date back to your home, a few glasses of wine led to heavy petting on the couch. His hand slowly slid beneath your dress when he stopped cold, wide eyes staring at the corner of your living room as you looked back to see nothing.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” You teased, trying to pull his lips back to yours as he stood from the couch.
He didn’t even utter a word before he was shouldering his way out of your new house, forgetting his hoodie in his haste as you tried to call after him. He never did call you back.
It made you not want to bring men home anymore, the embarrassment of being left high and dry after three dates had you feeling pathetic. The loneliness began to permeate your heart again as you stood alone in the hallway, wondering what it was you had done that would make him want to leave so abruptly.
You’d also noticed things had started to move around the home, certain you’d left a towel out for your morning showers but when you’d go to grab it, it would be gone. Your mug had d from his dedicated spot beside your kettle to the other side of the kitchen, sometimes even finding drawers or cupboard doors open. The creeks and whines that came with an old home helped ease your mind when the sounds began to echo at night, telling yourself that ghosts aren’t real as you tried to calm your racing heart and lull yourself to slumber.
“What if my house is haunted?” You murmured, thinking about the events that had occurred since you moved into the home.
You hadn’t discussed the history of the property when you’d started your lease, excited to find such a large house in such a nice area within your budget. Working with a third party meant you hadn’t had the opportunity to meet the previous owners, and you hadn’t bothered to ask.
But even after living here for a few nights, you’d begun to have vivid nightmares that had you waking up in a cold sweat, chest heaving as you looked around the room to see if the killer was there. As though you’d really been there— you were her in the dream, lying back against satin sheets as you watched a man towering above you. Wielding a knife as he sent it plunging into your chest, over and over. But no matter how many times he stabbed you, and how damp the sheets became with your blood. You never died.
You’d chalked it down to being alone in a new home, so used to the dingy apartment you used to live in that was barely a box. With more space, and it being an older building the floorboards creaking and the wind howling managed to scare you more than it would’ve in your old home. Telling yourself shadows were a trick of the light, and nightmares were a trick of the mind.
But something always stuck out in every dream, something between the sea of blood as you fought to make out her face.
“Don’t trust him, he’s not what he seems.” A girl's voice would call out at the end of each nightmare, the precise moment before you’d jolt awake.
“Who’s drunk now?” Tatami scoffed, “You shouldn’t be trying to scare me when you’re dressed as an Angel. Isn’t that immoral?”
“I’m being serious.” You stroked the condensation from the side of your glass as you tried to think of something that would’ve indicated that something else was here.
“Yeah, yeah.” Tatami laughed, “Trying to shit me up on Halloween, I get it. Well, it won’t work this time-”
“Tatami, honestly-” You held your face in your palms as you whined childishly, hoping that recent events had just been a coincidence and there was a logical explanation for each one.
“We can burn some sage tomorrow or something if it’ll make you feel better.” Tatami smirked, “But first— shots.”
“I’m going to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” The thought of another shot has your stomach whirring as you slipped past your best friend.
“Say hi to your friend up there for me,” She laughed as you weaved your way through the sea of people.
You blinked beneath the harsh fluorescent light of your bathroom as you stood in front of the sink, your hands clinging to the countertop as you tried to stop the room from whirling. You hadn’t drunk that much, so you were confused as to why you felt as though you were experiencing vertigo.
Glancing into the mirror there were no apparitions, no shadows, no eyes except for your own staring back at you. Your racing heart began to lull as you realised there was nothing here, releasing a sigh as you moved to leave your en-suite and go back to the party. Stepping back into your bedroom which was currently illuminated by your bathroom light as you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.
“The bathroom is downstairs, you’re not allowed up here.” You shouted, thinking that someone had gotten lost in their drunken stupor on the way to the bathroom.
But then the shadow flickered past your eyes again, a cool chill swirling past you even though the windows were shut as you felt your body begin to seize up with fear.
You wanted to call out, thinking it was Tatami or another partygoer trying to spook you. But it felt as though you were frozen, your legs felt like lead as your eyes roamed the room. The shadow moved closer as you felt it begin to loom over you, blinking frantically as you began to make out features.
Red eyes.
“Shit,” You hissed.
This couldn’t be happening, there was absolutely no way. You had to be drunk, there was no other explanation as you were unable to take your eyes off the man as he came closer.
“I’ve been watching you, sweetheart.” The sultry rasp of his voice had goosebumps creeping up on your skin, your heart hammering against your chest as the sight of him came into view, “It’s so good to finally meet you.”
The room grew cold the closer he came towards you, your eyes flickering towards the full-length mirror in your bedroom but there was no one else in the room. There were no reflections other than your own as you began to blink frantically, the alcohol in your system clearly impairing your consciousness.
“I’m so drunk, this isn’t happening.” You murmured to yourself before you gasped from the shrill cool of his hands against your hips permeating through the sheer fabric of your dress as he pressed you back, feeling your legs hit the edge of your mattress as you were shoved down on the bed.
“You think it’s not happening, sweetheart?” The man scoffed, “I’m heartbroken.”
“Who are you?” You mumbled, surprised when you felt the weight of him on top of you. The cold continued to permeate your body as you felt his hands ghostly against your sides.
“You don’t know me?” He whispered, “I know you— I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime.”
“How do you know my name?” You murmured, trying to mask your fear as you looked up at his face. He wasn’t someone you recognised, certain you’d never seen him before but something told you that he wasn’t being deceptive.
That he knew exactly who you were.
“You look like someone I used to know.” His thumb traced the curve of your jaw as he curled his fingers around your neck, ignoring your question.
“Who?” You asked in confusion.
“Just someone-” His pupils dilated as he felt as though he was staring directly into your soul, his hand tightening against the column of your neck as you shifted beneath him.
“The girl that used to live here?” You hummed.
The man gripped even tighter at the mention of her, the girl you’d seen in your dreams. Trying to connect the pieces of the puzzle as you thought back to the last dream you’d had, the one where she was laying down in a bed covered in blood.
“Yeah, her.” He smiled almost wistfully as you felt a rush of cool air against your lips as he came closer.
“Did she die in my house?” You were scared to ask the question, but you wanted answers.
“Your house? You mean my house, sweetheart.” He grinned, “I never left.”
The words had your blood running cold, he’d always been here, ever since you moved in.
“Did she die in here?” You tried again.
“Yeah… she did.” He mumbled.
“Did you kill her?” You regret the words as soon as they left your lips, his red eyes narrowed as he squeezed your neck tight.
“Me?” He snarled, “Did I kill her?”
“I know you think she-” You began, but he was quick to cut you off.
“You don’t fuckin’ know shit,” He snarled, moving closer to you as he looked down at you with dangerous eyes, “You’re just like all the rest, but I’ll show you the truth, you’ll see-”
You felt the energy begin to darken at your question, clearly hitting a sore spot inside him as for the first time you realised how much his hulking frame towered over you. Making you feel completely helpless.
“She tried so hard to make me into a villain, so I became the monster.” Bakugou rasped.
Thinking back to all the dreams you’d had where you’d been beneath him, trying to remember the eyes staring down at you but all you could feel was pain. Your eyes roamed the scratches that covered his body, scratches left by his lover before he’d murdered her.
“He’s the devil in disguise.” The girl in your dreams would call out to you before you woke up.
“My sweet Angel,” His hand reached out to touch the halo that sat above your head as part of your Halloween costume, “She wore a similar costume the night she died.” He murmured, watching his jaw lock at the memory as he pursed his lips.
That had to have been the girl in your dreams, the one dressed in white and covered in blood. The thought had your heart racing as you tried to decide if there was enough time for you to run, but could you really outrun a spirit?
“What’s your name?” You mumbled, watching his lips curl into a smile.
“Bakugou.”
You tried to place the name, but it felt like one that you’d never heard before. Even in your dreams, the girl would never address the man by name, so you wondered whether it was Bakugou she was talking about.
“Were you the one my boyfriend saw that night?” You thought back to your date with Monoma, where he’d left your apartment screaming, his face deathly pale as he ignored all your texts moving forward.
“Boyfriend? He didn’t deserve you, none of them did.” Bakugou continued, “You’re perfect, too perfect...”
His hands smoothed over your dress, his thumbs stroking against the curve of your breasts as your nipples began to pebble beneath the cold chill of his touch. A soft gasp left your lips as his hands travelled lower, slipping beneath the sheer fabric as he began to push it up your thighs.
“My perfect Angel.” He hummed.
“What’re you doing?” You mumbled, your palms reaching up to push him back to find with surprise you could touch him. It was like a cool wall of muscle as you pressed against him, but he didn’t move an inch.
“What I’ve been thinking about doing for weeks,” He growled, “Having to watch all those other pricks put their hands on you when it should’ve been me.”
“You— you were the reason they left.” The realization dawned on you that he was the one that was making all those men leave, your boyfriend, friends, the movers—
“Course, I was. You think I was gonna stand around watching those fuckers do whatever they want to you? They weren’t good enough for you. You’re mine now.” He scoffed, your blood ran cold at the tone of his voice, “You were mine from the second you stepped into my house. You won’t leave me like she did—”
“But you killed her?” You mumbled, scrunching your nose in confusion as you stared up at him.
“I didn’t kill her, sweetheart.” He shook his head, “She sealed her own fate.”
But if he didn’t kill her, what happened? He was covered in her blood and she was bleeding to death in the reoccurring dream you’d been having since entering the home.
“I was stupid back then, I let love cloud my judgement. But I’m not the same man anymore.” He snarled, “I don’t ask anymore, I take.”
His palm cupped your sex roughly, causing you to gasp in surprise at the cold chill, the thin fabric of your panties doing nothing to conceal the heat beneath radiating from you as Bakugou groaned low and deep in his throat.
“You can’t escape now,” His palm squeezed slightly in warning, smirking as he felt your body curve into his touch, “Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into this house.”
“Please,” You gasped as you felt him press against your clit, your body betraying you as slick began to dampen the fabric.
“Don’t act shy now, princess.” He cooed, his thumb pressing soft circles against your clit through your panties, “I know you could feel me watching you,”
You thought back to the times in the property when you’d convinced yourself it was a trick of your eye or paranoia taking over when you were home alone, ignoring any signs that there could’ve been something else in the house.
You didn’t believe in ghosts.
“When you were showering, walking around the house in these pretty little panties.” He pinched the elastic as it snapped against your hips, “When you were touching your sloppy little pussy. You sound real pretty when you cum, you know?”
Your eyes widened in surprise as he mentioned he’d always been watching you, embarrassment flooding your system and making you feel scorching hot even beneath his cool touch at the realisation he’d seen you completely vulnerable already.
“But I couldn’t reveal myself to you, not yet.” He growled, “Not when she was still here.”
The vivid dreams you’d had each night of her death had your tummy swirling, wondering if this was the night where you’d suffer the same fate. She’d tried to warn you in those dreams, she told you to leave the house, but you didn’t listen.
You should’ve listened.
“You’ll never leave me, will you?” He whispered, finally closing the gap to press his lips to yours in a salacious kiss, “You’re mine now forever.”
“She said you were the devil in disguise,” You murmured weakly against his lips, watching the wild fury appear in his eyes as he snarled down at you, his hand tightening its grip around your neck as you felt him squeezing roughly.
“She paints me as the devil when all of this is her fault, she did this. Not me—” He growled.
You wondered what he meant by that when he was the one that murdered her.
“We were going to get married, start a family, grow old together but she fucked it up. She did this.” He continued, “I know you’ve been talking to her. Fuckin’ bitch.” He spat.
You felt the fear continue to grow inside you the more irate he became, his grip tightening as the air slowly began to leave your body, feeling yourself becoming lightheaded as your lashes fluttered.
“Don’t believe a fuckin’ word she says,” He loosened his grip, “You’re nothing like her, are you?”
You began to cough and splutter as he let go of your neck, sucking in gulps of oxygen as you felt yourself coming to.
“You’d never leave me.” Bakugou’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of your panties as he pulled them down your thighs, letting the fabric drop to the floor as he moved his thumbs to your outer labia. Spreading you open as he caught sight of the messy slick stringing against your folds as more leaked from your tight entrance.
“You wanna say you don’t want me back when you’re fuckin’ soaked, sweetheart?” He grinned, “I don’t like liars.”
Bakugou pressed his thumb to your tight entrance as he watched it disappear inside you to the first knuckle, curling it inside you as it brushed against your inner walls. Pulling the air from your lungs as you bucked into his touch, the dull ache began to brew in your pelvis as he watched with intrigue.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He cooed, “I know you like it, sweet girl.”
He began to lower himself onto the mattress as his cold breath fanned against your slit, cooling your slick against your skin as you shivered. Bakugou’s lips curled into a grin as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your clit, your body jolting in surprise as the cool chill hit the sensitive nub.
“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” He hummed, “I thought you were like her, but you ain’t.”
Groaning as he inhaled deeply, surrounding himself with the scent of you as his tongue slipped out to drag through your slit, tasting you as he felt your walls clenching around his thumb.
“You’re so much better.”
Before you had a chance to respond to him Bakugou was already devouring you like a man starved, his lips wrapped around your clit as crude slurping noises began to fill the room. Overpowering the noise from the loud thrum of bass from the party downstairs as you wondered whether Tatami might come to find you and if she’d even be able to see him like you could.
This had to be another dream, there was no way that this was real.
This was wrong, you didn’t want this. There was something about his cold touch on your skin that made bile rise at the back of your throat as pearly tears began to leave silvery lines against your skin as they trickled down your temples and onto the soft sheets beneath you. Clinging to your lashes and obscuring your vision as the spirit of a man so callous used you for his own pleasure. You hated the way your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as you willed him to touch you more, to have you coming undone in his arms.
But you couldn’t deny the ache he caused between your thighs, the ferocious desire brewing inside you at how badly he wanted you, needed you. The knowledge that he’d been the one watching you all this time, warding off any other men that may come between you. Your body burned at the thought of him watching you in your most intimate moments, trying to get yourself off as you furiously rubbed your clit, working yourself towards your climax. You wondered whether he touched himself while he watched you, whether he met his own end to the thought of you.
“Oi,” Bakugou growled, pinching your clit roughly as your body jolted to bring your attention back to his, “Stay with me, sweetheart.”
His teeth nipped your clit as your body spasmed in surprise, thighs clamping down around either side of his head before you pulled back from the shrill cool of him. His tongue slid through your slick lower until he came to your tight entrance, moving his thumb so he could push his tongue inside you as deep as it could possibly go. Crudely flicking it so it nudged your sensitive walls as you reached your hands down to thread through his messy spikes, surprised you could feel the silvery wisps through your fingers as you tugged.
“Please stop, don’t—” You whimpered. A feeble attempt to try and get him to pull away from you, to stop. But your body betrayed you, rolling your hips into his touch as he gathered your fresh slick on the pad of his tongue.
“Don’t act like you don’t want it when your pussy is this fuckin’ honest,” He snarled, spitting down onto your slit as he moved to run it through your folds, “Told ya I don’t like liars.”
He moved his attention back to your clit as he wrapped his lips around it, lashing the tip of his tongue against it as he began to suck hard. Catching you off guard as he pressed two fingers deep inside you to the hilt, not allowing you a moment to adjust before he began a brutal pace. Curling the digits as they pressed against the spongy spot inside you, as though he already knew the exact spots and places to touch that would have you slipping into ecstasy. His moans sent pleasurable vibrations directly to your clit as he worked you towards your climax.
Bakugou should’ve felt guilty, ruining your delicate body with such little care, watching as you allowed fear to consume you as you submit yourself to him. His fingers pressed sultry circles against your clit as you made more saccharine sounds for him, your creamy sex dripping with need because of him. But there’s no way you’d want anyone else after him, it’s selfish, but he wouldn’t allow it. You were his now, and you would always be his.
“You’re so easy,” Bakugou scoffed as you whimpered when he pulled away from your puffy nub, “Thought you’d put up more of a fight, but I guess you’re just desperate to get yourself off, or are you scared?”
You were. You were petrified. Your soaked cunt clenching around nothing at his callous words as he pinched your folds together,
And yet at the same time, you were completely mystified by this entity. He’d made you feel more wanted and desired than any guy you’d been with before, and the fear that he could harm you with ease only seemed to add to the allure.
The sensation was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, your eyes flickered over to the full-length mirror as you seemed to be alone on the bed, the man above you held no reflection as you tugged at his hair. Trying to gauge whether this was all just another one of your vivid dreams or if it was really happening. Bakugou snarled against your clit at the movement as his teeth grazed the sensitive nub, causing you to cry out in pleasure.
“You want everyone to hear what a slut you are for me, hah?” He grinned, “Too bad they wouldn’t live to remember it, you’re mine.”
The threat, even though it wasn’t directed at you, had your walls throbbing in a mixture of excitement and fear. A movement that didn’t go unnoticed by the supernatural being above you.
“You like that?” He scoffed, “Cause you know I would— I’d kill for you.”
And there was something in the tone of his voice that told you he was being completely truthful. Especially when he’d done the same to his previous lover, the fact that you believed even now that he could watch you take your final breath.
You gasped as he brought your attention back to him, curving his large palms around the fat of your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, keeping you spread wide open as thick fingers dug into the meat of your skin. Sliding the flat of his tongue through your folds as he gave a long, languid lick. Your hips bucked erratically as he deliberately avoided your clit, repeating the motion again and again as every so often he dipped the tip of his tongue inside your fluttering walls. His teasing was driving you insane, as fresh slick began to ooze from your overstimulated cunt, feebly trying to use the grip on his hair to pull him towards your clit. Your halo fell off against the plush pillows as he smirked up at you from between your thighs.
“I thought you didn’t want this, sweetheart.” He spoke against your folds, “But here you are practically begging me to get you off.”
Here you were beneath him, so compliant and responsive. It had his cock throbbing with desire as he subtly rolled his hips against the mattress, continuing to feast on your cunt as you writhed beneath him.
“Do you want to cum?” He snarled.
“I— oh my god,” You couldn’t think straight, still unable to believe this was really happening as Bakugou bullied two thick fingers inside your dripping hole. Immediately curling them towards the spongy spot inside you as he waited for your response. His cool breath fanning against your sensitive nub as your slick cooled and dried against it, making you squirm beneath him as you tried to form the right words.
“Answer me,” He spat, his other hand tightening its grip against your thigh almost painfully, “Do you want to cum?”
“Yes—” You cried out abruptly, the fear still prevalent inside you, “Yes, yes. I want to cum. I need to cum.”
You could feel tears beginning to cling to your thick lashes as Bakugou dove straight back into your messy cunt, his lips immediately latching on to your puffy clit as he sucked hard. The sudden movement had you thrashing beneath him as you let out a shrill cry, your toes curling in the heels you were wearing as you came undone. Your climax was earth-shattering as you could only feel blinding pleasure coursing through your veins, even with the cool chill of Bakugou surrounding you, you still felt scorching hot.
“That’s it,” He growled, pulling his fingers from your slick heat to delve his tongue back inside you for a taste. Collecting your juices against the flat of it as he groaned deep in his throat, cherishing the feeling of your walls continuing to flutter around him in the aftermath of your climax.
“You look so fuckin’ pretty when you cum, has anyone told you that?” Bakugou murmured as he pulled away from your slit, pressing wet sloppy kisses on the apex of your thigh as he pulled back, “I could go another eternity with only that image in my mind.”
You thought that was it, that he’d disappear and you could leave. But instead, he moved onto his knees, translucent hands moving to unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down his hips. You watched as he slowly revealed his thick cock to your eyes, the mere thought of him fitting inside you had your cunt swirling in anticipation. No longer a way to tell whether this was a dream or reality as rough hands flipped you over as though you weighed nothing, something that terrified you as he pulled you up onto your knees as you leaned on your forearms.
“Oh fuck,” He groaned, hands ghosting against your ass as he pulled your cheeks apart, “Everything about you is better than her. It’s as though you were what I was waiting for all this time.”
What did he mean by that? You still were unaware of the reason why his spirit was trapped inside this house, why he hadn’t been able to move on and whether the girl he spoke about was the one covered in blood you witnessed in your dreams.
“Fuck,” Bakugou snarled, smoothing the fat tip of his cock through your messy folds as you felt it catch against your tight entrance, pushing forward as he failed to breach you as his tip nudged against your clit. Your fingers fisting the sheets beneath you at the motion as he pulled his hips back to try again, “You’re so tight.”
A dull ache began to ebb inside you as he pushed more of himself inside your slick walls, stretching you out around his cock as large palms gripped your plush ass. Squeezing roughly as he reached back to land a resounding smack on your cheek, watching it ripple beneath his touch as the movement had your body moving forward, pulling yourself off his length as his grip sought to pull you back.
“Shit, this fuckin’ pussy is perfect.” He groaned, giving you a moment to adjust before he began a rough pace.
The sensation was indescribable, like nothing you’d ever felt before as you felt the heat of your most intimate place mix with the cold of him. His thick cock pressed against the ridges of your walls perfectly as he filled every inch of you, moving deeper and deeper with each rough rut of his hips as you felt his tip hitting the barrier inside you, heavy balls knocking against your clit with every forward motion.
“S’too much,” You slurred, wincing slightly as you felt the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, “I can’t.”
“But yet you are,” Bakugou snarled, rough hands reaching around your body to tug the top of your dress down, “My perfect little Angel.”
Bakugou’s hands groped your bouncing breasts, pinching your taut nipples between thumb and forefinger as you cried out beneath him, turning your face to the side to see the slightest flash of red as he continued plunging into your tight cunt.
“That’s it,” He groaned, “Watch those pretty faces you’re makin’ for me.”
He gave a particularly hard thrust to watch your face contort in pleasure as he smirked down at you, the crude slap of skin against skin filled the room and it made you wonder whether this was really a dream. Maybe you’d drunk too much and you were sleeping with a cute guy from the party— but you couldn’t fool yourself, this was different, supernatural.
“Bakugou,” You gasped, his thick cock dragging against your inner walls perfectly as he knocked against the sensitive spot inside you with a harsh thrust of his hips. Already feeling the first signs of your impending climax as you began to tremble around his length.
“Katsuki,” He grunted, squeezing your hips for emphasis, “Want you to call me Katsuki.”
“Katsuki,” You repeated, the name sliding off your tongue as you broke into another sultry moan.
“Fuck, just like that, sweet girl.” He choked back a moan as he increased his pace.
It was all you could do to lay there and take it, fingers curled into the sheets as the thrusts you tried to make were no match for his brutal pace.
“I know you want to cum, sweetheart.” He grinned, his chest swelled with pride as he heard more of the pretty noises that spilt from your lips, “Can feel ya squeezing my cock.”
One of his thumbs pressed against your tight asshole as large palms kept you spread open for him, feeling the rim flutter against his touch at the foreign sensation as you began to shake beneath him.
“Oh fuck,” You felt your body give out as your legs shook violently at the height of your climax, “Katsuki.”
“Fuck, that’s it.” He grunted as he felt your walls begin to convulse around him, collapsing onto your chest on the mattress as he followed you down. His body was heavy on top of yours as he continued his harsh pace, his rough movements helping you to ride out your climax as he began to send you hurtling towards another.
The cool sensation of his chest pressed to your back was almost comforting as he pressed soft kisses against the apex of your neck, shifting his hips to change the angle as you continued to moan beneath him.
“Got no damn idea how good this pussy is,” He groaned, lifting himself off your back as he wrapped a hand back around your neck to pull you up with him.
The rough movement had you throbbing around his cock as he began to piston his cock in and out of you. Your eyes flickered to the reflection where you could now see the man behind you, his body completely covered in blood as you noticed the thick, deep scratch marks on his arms. As though someone had been clawing at him to get away from him, blinking as the sheets turned a dark crimson beneath you.
“Please-” You gasped, trying desperately to move your body forward, to get away from him as he kept his hands tight against your neck.
You tried to scream, but only a dull sound escaped your lips as his hand tightened around your throat, feeling his lips curl into a smirk beside your ear as he used your body for his own pleasure.
“I know you’re gonna cum again, princess. I can feel you clamping down on my cock.” He grinned, “You love this, don’t you?”
You couldn’t respond, the mixture of pleasure swirling in your pelvis and the lack of oxygen was making you lightheaded again. With nothing you could do in this position except take it as he fucked you towards another climax. His other hand slid down your tummy to slip between your thighs, pressing rough, sloppy circles against your puffy clit.
“Oh shit, that’s it.” Bakugou groaned as he felt you fall into pleasure, continuing to fuck you through it, his fingers consistent against your clit “Good fuckin’ girl.”
You allowed yourself to succumb to the white-hot pleasure coursing through you, your climax crashing down around you in a sudden tsunami as you thrashed beneath Bakugou. Your pliant cunt gushing around him like the waves against the shore as he continued to keep his rough pace. Your walls burned from the abuse as he worked himself to his own end, each forward motion had Bakugou fucking his cum deeper inside your creamy pussy until he came to a slow stop. His hands splayed against your sides as he leaned down to press a soft, sweet kiss against your pouty lips.
Your body convulsed as you rode out your climax before you became slack against him, your head lolling back against his shoulder as half-lidded eyes continued to stare into your reflection in the mirror.
“Been thinkin’ about filling this sloppy pussy with my cum for the longest time,” He groaned, his cock throbbing inside you as he neared his own release, “Had to stop myself from doing it while you slept. I wanted to see those pretty eyes when I was doin’ it.”
You couldn’t argue, already submitting to your fate as you felt Bakugou give a few more sharp thrusts of his hips against your ass, his fingers flexing against your jugular as he came inside you with a grunt. A swift burst of something cool erupted inside you as you felt it stick to your inner walls, surrounding you with the sensation as Bakugou’s pace began to falter as he filled you with his release. Rough grunts left his parted lips as his cold breath against your skin made you shiver, leaving a trail of goosebumps against your skin.
“You’re mine forever now, Angel.” Bakugou whispered as you felt yourself beginning to pass out, the last wisps of oxygen finally leaving your lungs as your body went slack against him, “We don’t need anyone else, it’s just you and me-”
You woke up the next morning sore, the early morning sunlight blinding as it shone through your windows, the blinds completely open as you held a hand up to shield yourself from the harsh rays. A harsh cough left your body as you reached over to your bedside table to grab your water bottle as you took a huge gulp of the tepid liquid, feeling it burn as it flowed down your throat.
A dull ebb throbbed between your thighs as you began to remember the vivid dream you’d had last night, starting to wonder whether it had really been a dream at all or whether it had actually happened. Shaking your head at the foolish thought as you got yourself up enough to sit on the edge of your bed. You were still dressed in your clothes from the night before, wondering whether instead of the dream the throb between your thighs had been caused by a drunken fumble at the party last night, wondering if the man was still somewhere in your home or had at the very least left his phone number.
Standing up from your bed as the whole room began to spin, as you took a second to ground yourself. Holding onto your dresser before you began to pad into your en-suite bathroom, moving towards the sink to splash some soothing water onto your face.
Standing back up straight is when you noticed it— the darkened bruises around your neck, almost seared into the skin as you reached up to press against them. Gasping in surprise at the painful pulse from them as you began to try and piece together what had happened last night, you’d never been so drunk you’d blacked out before, and you definitely hadn’t drunk enough to make you pass out.
The same name you remembered from your dream began to echo in your mind as you clutched the side of the bathroom sink, replaying the previous night's events.
Bakugou Katsuki.
Padding back into your bedroom you grabbed for your cellphone, ignoring the low battery warning as you unlocked it to pull up your search engine, typing the same name into the search bar as you added your location after it. Bleary eyes glanced down at the bright screen as you waited for the results to load before clicking the first article at the very top.
Gasping in surprise when the image loaded of the same man that you’d seen in your dreams last night, a messy mop of rusty blond hair with piercing red eyes. Scrolling lower as you began to read the article.
Jilted lovers end in murder on Halloween.
Police attended the home of Bakugou Katsuki on the night of October 31st 1985 after neighbours filed reports of arguing inside the home. The body of Bakugou’s girlfriend Uraraka Ochako was found in a pool of blood in the master bedroom with the cause of death being determined as asphyxiation after being strangled to death. Bakugou, who is thought to be the victim's boyfriend, stabbed Uraraka thirteen times before fleeing the scene. Later the police arrived at the house of Midoriya Izuku, an acquaintance of the couple, to find Bakugou Katsuki dead at the scene.
Midoriya is said to have killed Bakugou in self-defence, driving to the scene of the original murder to try and save the life of Uraraka but unfortunately, he was too late. Musutafu News has reached out to Midoriya Izuku for comment on what might have made this loving boyfriend of six years murder his girlfriend on Halloween, but we have not received a response.
Was it jealousy that turned this young man to murder? Or was something more sinister afoot?
Bakugou Katsuki may have taken this truth to his grave.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou smut#Bakugou Katsuki x reader#Katsuki Bakugou x reader#Katsuki Bakugou smut#Bnha x reader#bnha smut#mha x reader#mha smut#kinktober#kinktober 2022#bump in the night collab 🖤🐈⬛ 🔪#tw:dubcon#trigger:dubcon
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Idk if it was u or someone else that has already done this but I need Steve so out of it (hit his head or high or sum??) he literally forgets to speak English- like maybe he’s just saying stuff in Italian and he’s so confused bcuz no one understands him and he realizes he’s speaking his first language and not English.
Also the party would be drooling after him like?? He’s already cute and he speaks more then one language? Literally screaming!!!
tbh i've probably written something similar to this but for you anon, i'll do it again.
--
steve was walking, and if we want to get technical, he was really wandering, with robin trailing behind him. they weren't paying attention, they weren't really thinking, so.
it just so happened that steve wandered right into an opening door, and he fell back and smacked his head on the side walk. robin proceeded to lose her shit, cackling loudly before realizing he'd actually been hurt.
"oh, shit. dingus. are you okay?"
"oh fuck, i killed him!"
and what a surprise that was. eddie just so happened to cause this brutal door attack. his head was already swimming from the fall and now he has to form words around eddie? really?
"non sono mort." he mumbled, reaching back to run the spot where he hit his head.
"oh my god. he's having a stroke, he can't talk. call 911!" eddie was always one for the dramatics.
"robin, smettila di urlare. per favore."
"is that... italian??"
"non essere ridicolo. sto parlando un inglese semplice."
"steve. oh my god. parli italiano sul serio."
and that caused him to realize what he'd been doing.
"oh no! ha fatto perdere il mio inglese!"
robin doubled over in laughter. she knew it wasn't serious enough to call an ambulance, just knocked a few screws out of place.
"what? what'd he say?! oh my god. i changed steve's language. quick find the reset button!"
this only caused robin to laugh harder, her face turning red and tears leaking from her eyes. steve started to giggle at the sight, but eddie was still watching them, wide eyed.
"are- did i hit steve so hard it started effecting you too?"
as robin sobered up, she took a few shuddering breaths before she realized what just happened. "you speak italian! since when?" she shoved her finger in steve's face.
he groaned, "since always." he brightened, "hey! it's back."
"so i- i didn't change your language?"
"no. he's bilingual."
"oh! so you just decided that for me? you told me that stuff was personal, rob. but what does that have to do with you speaking italian?"
robin laughed shortly, "that's bisexual, dingus. bi lingual means you speak two languages."
"oh. then yeah. im bilingual."
"yeah, we've covered that. but since when?"
steve shrugged. "it'd be odd if i couldn't talk to my mom, right?"
robin shook her head. "it's like every time you open your mouth i found out some new lore about you, steve." and he just shrugged.
and eddie was still there watching this whole thing, trying not to pop a stiffy at the idea of steve speaking italian to him, all slow and sexy- no! bad eddie! steve is hurt, this is not the time.
"so." he dragged out. "i'm okay, ed's." steve assured. "yeah. okay, um. are you... so like. you're one bi... are you the other bi too... or?" eddie said awkwardly.
steve blushed and robin gagged. "yeah. is this your way of asking me on a date?"
eddie nodded dumbly.
"okay. tomorrow? bennys at 6?"
"uh. uh huh."
"sounds good, ed's. i should probably get my head checked out now. a domani, amore mio."
and that was it. suddenly eddie felt like he just got hit with a door. he was still reeling from the interaction when robins distant squealing broke him from his trance.
he shook his head.
steve's got more layers than he thought.
// i did use google translate so it won't be accurate.
"i'm not dead."
"robin, stop yelling. please."
"don't be ridiculous. im speaking plain english."
"you're speaking italian. seriously."
"oh no! he knocked my english loose!"
"see you tomorrow, my love."
#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#steddie#best friend robin#best friend robin buckley#italian steve#italian steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things ficlet#steddie ficlet#pre steddie#steve harrington headcanon#steve's head trauma#platonic stobin#yall know i love italian steve#italian!steve#stobin ficlet#platonic soulmates stobin#stranger things fic#steddie fic
484 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
gabbidon10
Untitled
onegearmag
One Gear to rule them all .
did-you-grow-up-with
Nostalgiacore
steamcarpeting-blog
Untitled
talehovadu
Untitled