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notmyneighbor · 2 days

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Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman and Female Reader

Finale

Word Count ~ 3.3k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ fluff and smut, pregnancy

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl @kawaiichookie @vexillum-moeru @blackcurrant28 @r4yyyyy @dazedin2d @mrsspector-grant

The true name of your doppelgänger is crooned into your ear.

A sound that is strangely soothing, syllables slipping like water in a brook, a gentle rush of water.

You attempt to replicate the sound and of course it doesn’t come out right. He’d warned you of this. The human tongue is incapable of replicating the foreign language.

“Why do you have such an easy time learning ours and we can’t learn yours?”

He’s gone back to the human version of his being, the tired eyes of the milkman studying your frustrated features, his fingers stroking and smoothing away the lines creasing your brow and the corners of your mouth.

“The newness of it, maybe. Yours is a relatively young race.”

You prop your head up on your hand, dragging fingernails over your lover’s chest. “How old are you?”

“Me, or my species?”

“Both.”

He turns onto his back, nestling down in the pillows. “In Earth years….we have existed for tens of thousands of years. I’m a tenth of that.”

“You are not over a thousand years old,” you murmur in disbelief.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles softly. “You’re right, I’m not. I’m teasing. Sorry, love. More like one hundredth of that.”

“A century.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wow.” It’s hard to reconcile the idea. Despite whatever face he wears, you’ve always thought of him as near enough your own age. “An older man, huh?”

“Something like that.” He lifts the hand you have resting on his bare chest and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Is that okay?”

“It’s a little late to ask, but yes, it’s definitely okay.” You bend to kiss his mouth. “I really wanted to learn your name.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He worries his bottom lip, considering. “What if I tried to describe what it meant instead? And we discovered a language equivalent that was similar.”

“Alright,” you agree.

The milkman’s copy pauses, considering. “In Greek mythology, there was a name for something otherworldly that was borrowed from Latin, then later used to describe a kind of afterlife. Fields of paradise. An eternal resting place of bliss for the worthy. Elysium. But that notion of otherworldly is the best way to describe it. The original term is Elysian.”

“Elysian,” you try it out. It sounds nothing like what the alien had said earlier, of course, but the idea is there. “I like it. It’s pretty sounding.”

“Well, that’s it, then.”

“Elysian,” you repeat, bending to kiss his mouth again. He smiles against your lips. “You like hearing it, huh?”

“It’s pleasant, I’ll admit.”

A sudden thought occurs to you. “How do you know about Greek mythology?” You have never seen anything that indicated the milkman read classical literature.

The doppel clears his throat, looking a little nervous. “There was a professor.”

“Oh.” Of course Francis wasn’t the first human he’d ever cloned. “Did you…take him over, too?”

“No. Just replicated. Retired. Library at home.” He squirms a little, looking uncomfortable.

“Did you…” You don’t really want to give voice to the query. You’re not even sure precisely which it is. Kill? Consume?

“Sweetheart, please don’t ask me that.��

You swallow thickly. You forget, sometimes. Caught up as you are in how he is now. Denying what he used to be.

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you remember what you read in a book.”

The doppel sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “It was awhile ago.”

“Not who you were when you…Francis…”

“No.”

“How many? How many people have you…”

He sits up, and you straighten beside him. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not who I am anymore. What I am. You know that.”

“I know. I just…” Your voice trails off again.

“Listen to me, sweet girl. All that matters now to me is you. Keeping you safe. Making you happy. I love you.” He plants a kiss on your bare shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

“We should go to sleep. Work in the morning. And that damned box to deal with,” he mutters, leaning to switch the bedside lamp off.

You feel him lying down again and you snuggle next to him, your head pillowed against his chest, his arm curled around you. You’re wide awake, now. Questions spiral in your mind. “Elysian?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever miss your planet?”

“Maybe a little. I did. Not so much now.” His arm around you tightens.

“What was it like?”

“Very green. More of a tropical climate, I suppose you would say.”

“And you left because…”

“Food shortage.”

A brisk answer. You’re not going to ask what precisely the doppels consumed in their native location. “Have you been to any other planets?”

“One. Small. We didn’t stay long.”

Another ominous answer. Not enough to eat, perhaps? Did anyone ever properly repel the invaders? Or were they an unstoppable force, like a plague of locusts sweeping the land, consuming everything in their path, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake?

“What’s it like traveling in space?”

“So many questions tonight.” His lips press against you hair. “It’s indescribable, really. Beautiful. Vast. Daunting. Someday, I would like to show you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you both mull over that prospect. You had never thought much about space travel. Had no real knowledge of astronomy. But the idea of exploring the stars with this creature by your side made you curious. What would it be like, to be so far away from the only home you've ever known? You feel the gentle rise and fall as the doppelgänger’s lungs expand and deflate and hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. You try to match his rhythm. A game you haven’t played since childhood. Facing off with a friend in the schoolyard. While cuddling with a parent at home. That is what he feels like to you. Home. How fiercely you want to protect him. You squeeze his shoulder.

“What happens when you run out of members of your squadron to send here for sacrifice?” You ask quietly. A concern you’ve harbored for a long time finally given voice.

“Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay? I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to be harmed, either.”

“I know, my love. Now try to sleep.”

You shut your eyes, thinking there’s no way you’ll be falling asleep anytime soon, only to find yourself proven wrong as you soon descend into slumber.

***

You awaken to darkness.

It’s early, dawn still a ways off. You reach out drowsily to find the doppelgänger sitting upright beside you in bed.

“Elysian?”

“There’s a doppel,” he says softly. “But something about it is off. I don’t…”

You’re instantly alert again, jerking upright, throwing the sheet off of you. “Where is it? Outside? On this floor?”

Had you let one in by mistake? Or was this some new intrusion?

“I’m not sure,” he replies distractedly. The weight on the mattress shifts as he rises, his face barely visible when he draws back the curtain to peer at the street below. “Not outside,” he declares. “Closer than that.”

Your pulse quickens. Inside, then.

“Wait there,” he advises. “I’ll go have a look around.”

You immediately disobey, sliding out of bed. You can’t just sit still waiting for whatever was going to happen. You pad barefoot out of the room, finding yourself in more darkness. Your fingers trail on the wall as you move forward, your feet leaving carpet and finding linoleum.

“Elysian?” You hiss, squinting, trying to detect him in the shadows.

“I told you to stay in the other room,” his voice growls from somewhere to your right. The living room. “It was gone, but now I’m sensing it again”

You bump into the couch, finally deciding it’s more of a hazard trying to find your way in the dark, invader be damned, reaching blindly until you crash into the lamp, nearly knocking it over before your fingers fumble for the switch.

Francis’ doppel paces the small apartment, even unlocking and cracking open the front door before shaking his head and shutting it again. His gaze meets yours.

“So where is it?”

He steps towards you slowly. His eyes widen. “Is it possible…”

“What?”

“Sweetheart.” He stands before you, laying a palm on your abdomen.

“I’m…”

“Carrying my baby. Our baby.” His other hand cups your cheek tenderly. “We did it, my love.”

He gathers you against him, his face burrowed into your neck. Wet. He’s crying. You’re crying, too. Weeping. Relief. Joy. A new kind of fear. Maternal instinct kicking in already.

You had to protect your unborn hybrid child.

***

There’s no sleep to be found for either of you now.

You’re cuddled on the couch, wrapped in Francis’ bathrobe, the doppelgänger’s arm curled around you protectively, waiting for the new day to begin.

“I’m afraid to make an appointment with the doctor. I should go, but…what if they find out?”

“Best not then, love. Just to be safe. You should talk to your mother. Whatever you need to be doing, what to expect…”

You nod. “We need to get married as soon as possible.”

“You’re already my wife in every way that matters, but yes, we will. Very soon.” He pauses. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I know your reasoning behind it, but I think you should stop working for the DDD. Especially since we’re moving into your house together. There’s no reason for either of us to be anywhere near here anymore. Let’s go, sweetheart. Leave this behind. Start over. Begin our life together properly.”

“Let me give a notice. Finish this week, and the next. It’s just how we do things. Allow them time to find a replacement. We still have the box to deal with,” you remind him.

“Then you’ll leave the DDD?”

“Yes, I’ll leave.”

He sighs heavily. “Thank you.”

“What time do you think it is?”

“Maybe three? I left my watch in the other room. Can’t see the clock from here,” he murmurs against your cheek. “We still have time.”

“I was thinking we should go downstairs. Tamper with the device right now before the sun even rises.” You lean back to look at your lover. “They’ll keep working on it. There’s no guarantee they won’t succeed again. Or find another means.”

“I know. But that won’t be your fight, love. That’s for someone else to worry about.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Yes,” he admits. “More than I ever have been. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Our baby is worth it.”

***

The director of the DDD requests an exit interview with you.

Really not a request, more of a requirement. You’re not entirely surprised. You didn’t think you’d escape quite that easily.

It’s been a little over a week since you and Elysian sabotaged the anti doppelgänger frequency box. Lying about the results on the survey after the allotted trial period. A temporary solution to a larger problem, but at least your doppel was safe for now.

And your baby. Your half human, half doppelgänger child nestled in your belly.

You try not to rest your hand on it as you sit before the stern faced man’s desk. Of course there is nothing visible yet, your stomach still flat, but you’d already grown accustomed to touching there. You force your hands to meet and fold together in your lap, your head bowed slightly, the very picture of meekness and subservience that seemed so favorable for women of the time.

“You’ve submitted your two weeks notice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the reason for that is?”

“I’m getting married. Ready to settle down, start a family.”

He grunts. You can’t tell if it’s approving or not. “People don’t often leave the DDD. Not voluntarily,” he adds.

“Yes, sir. I’m aware. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I feel it’s the right one.”

“Not going to be easy to replace you. Not if you gave two months notice, let alone two weeks,” he admits grudgingly. “The DDD thanks you for your service. I’m certain you’ll still uphold the tenets of the cause, even if you’re no longer formally employed by us.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The middle aged man begins to slide a document across the desk towards you after signing it and stamping it with the official seal, only to halt at the last moment, staring hard at you. Your eyes lift to meet his.

“I understand there’s a new vacancy in that residence now. Another rare occurrence.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“The milkman that was missing that day of your…indiscretion. Francis Moss, wasn’t it?”

“Mosses,” you correct, then wince internally.

“Yes. Him.”

You remain silent, your hand still stretched out, reaching for the paper. Your heart thuds in your chest. Please, just let me go. Please, please…

You suddenly have the document clutched tightly in your hand. He was letting you go after all. Freedom. You force yourself to walk from the room at a dignified pace, the paper carried in front of you like a shield. When you exit the office building your tense, rigid posture relaxes and you heave a sigh of relief. Another challenge overcome on the road to forever with your doppel.

***

You love coming home to your fiancé.

Seeing his delivery truck in the driveway. Soon you’ll be the one welcoming him inside every afternoon. But for now, he’s the first one to your inherited farmhouse, waiting for you on the porch he’d raced up to kiss you all those months ago, gifting you a taste of new rain and the smell of fresh petrichor.

“How did it go?” His tone is casual but you know better, seeing his white knuckled grip on the railing.

“I’m free.” You wave the letter in the air and he snatches it from your hand, hurriedly scanning the words.

“You really are,” he murmurs, looking bewildered and relieved.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t still be watching. But for now, for now…”

He smiles at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. “Should we celebrate?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully, his lips brushing your ear. “Come inside with me, love.”

***

There are little details of the house that bear traces of Francis Mosses, now. The crocheted blanket rests over your couch. The portable record player has a permanent home in your bedroom. The dresser hosts a collection of your doppel’s things: a belt, cologne, some spare change, a wooden handled hairbrush. There’s a shirt that needs mending hung on the post at the end of the bed.

“I’ll fix this later.”

“Mmm hmm.” His eyes never stray from your face. You sit on the edge of the bed and he kneels in front of you, sliding each shoe off, caressing your calves. You sink a hand into his hair, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead, inhaling his scent. Notes of bergamot, the clean citrus in his cologne. Your shampoo now in his hair. Strawberry. Everything a combination of you two. Already joined in so many ways.

His hand cups one knee, his palm warm and comforting over the joint. He slides it inside, stroking under your skirt, creeping between your thighs. He nudges at the clothing that is your work attire, shoving impatiently to gain better access. You accommodate him, pushing yourself back until you’re lying horizontally across the mattress, your skirt now rucked up around your hips, the doppel’s fingers dragging your panties out of the way.

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

He’s on his hands and knees above you. You work on the fly of his pants. Your haste makes you clumsy. The metal teeth of the zipper catch on the fabric of his pants. He shakes his head, laughing softly, the sound turning to a growl when he struggles in your wake. It finally gives and he lowers himself down, guiding his cock into your entrance.

You gasp and his mouth crushes yours, swallowing the sound.

His hips press yours and you’re thinking of the nearby field with its fading summer flowers. That’s where you want to be wed. Here beneath the open sky, in this sanctuary of yours. You whisper it beside his cheek and he draws back, looking at your features. “Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes.” Your rock your pelvis against him, your legs wrapping around his body. “Elysium fields with my Elysian…”

“I love you,” he breathes. He thrusts and it hits something tender inside, the aching place deep in the hollow. Your fingers tangle together. Hot inside you. Something molten in your core. You’re melting. Clinging to him. The world shatters, comes back together in little pieces. Tired eyes gazing into your own. Soft smile.

***

You’re still tangled together.

Bodies intertwined. A comforter thrown over you both to ward off the chill of the oncoming autumn night. You’re discussing possible baby names again. You like the idea of something celestial. Named for the sun or the moon or one of the countless stars above. A constellation, an outline of a portrait when they arrange themselves just so. A planet, a galaxy. Infinite possibilities.

“It reminds me of a song,” Elysian murmurs. You’ve been taking turns tickling each other. You were losing horribly but determined to get revenge, making another attack along his unprotected ribs. He remains stoic and unresponsive despite your best efforts.

“What song?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully. “In Other Words, I believe it’s called. How does it go?”

Fly me to the moon

And let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On-a Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, darling, kiss me

Your heart lurches. It’s the melody. The one Francis used to hum. The replicant notices your teasing fingers grow still and he stops singing abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was the song. The one Francis used to hum all the time.”

“Oh, love. I didn’t realize…”

“Of course not. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Your eyes feel a little full, tears brimming.

“I know you still love him. I wouldn’t ask you not to. That wouldn’t be fair.” He drags a thumb across each cheek, close to your lashes, collecting the salted liquid. “He’s always going to be present in some regard. But I can’t resent him. I have to love him a little bit, too. Because he brought me to you.”

“What if I’d called the DDD that day? What if…” More tears escape. You’re suddenly overwhelmed. If you’d contacted the disposal team and destroyed him, this person that has become your world, created a new life with you…This song was what had finally swayed you. Another gift from Francis.

“Sweetheart. You didn’t. You let me into the building. Into your heart. There’s nothing there to be sorry about, from your perspective anyway. If I had to choose again, I would not see you hurt, I would not want to take him from you, but love, how could I ever give you up? I can’t. I could never. You’re carrying our future. You’re my forever.”

His lips graze yours. Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, drawing him more firmly against your mouth. “Sing the rest for me. I want to know all the words.”

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing forever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

“I love you.”

You’re joined again. Hips and hands and mouths.

Maybe one day in the future you will be brave enough to travel with the alien into space. Explore the wonders of the heavens with your children by your side.

For now, you are content in this bliss on Earth.

#francis mosses #milkman #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #doppelganger #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn francis mosses #tnmn milkman #tnmn fanfic #thats not my neighbour milkman #tnmn

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vibraniumavenger · 2 days

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Collision

TW/CW: Car accident, injuries.

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Diaz!Reader

You smiled to yourself as you walked beside Christopher, your nephew. You had watched him in the morning while your brother was working, and Carla was attending an appointment. You didn’t mind though, you absolutely adored him, and he enjoyed spending time with you.

You had an hour to kill before dropping him off to Carla, and heading off to work yourself, so you decided to swing by the station to have lunch with the team. It was quiet when you arrived, indicating the team were on a call. You took it upon yourself to make lunch for everybody, knowing it would be a relief to them when they got back. Chris was sat at the table on his tablet, in a world of his own, allowing you to focus on the food. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as the sound of the shutters opening filled the station followed by heavy boots thudding against the floor as each firefighter jumped out of the truck. The footsteps got closer, the faint smell of smoke mixed with a familiar aftershave filled your nostrils and you instinctively lean back into the body that is now behind you as arms snake around your waist. “Isn’t this a nice surprise?”

You turn towards the voice, and smile, “Apparently, I can’t seem to stay away.” You lean up to kiss Buck, causing Chris to pull a disgusted face. This seemed to amuse Buck, and he kissed you again. Eddie appeared in the kitchen, and made his way over to his son, visibly happy to see him. “Come on guys, get a room.” You rolled your eyes playfully at your brothers comment, and pulled away from Buck.

You dished up the food for the team and took a seat, eager to hear about the call they had just been on. You listened intently as you ate, your complete focus on Buck as he spoke passionately about the call. Your heart warmed as you watched his face light up, he loved how much you genuinely enjoyed hearing about the calls, and how his day had gone. Chimney was the next to speak up, “It was a good call, except the part where Buck was playing hero and nearly got himself killed.” Bucks eyes widened and he turned to look at Chimney, giving him a look that immediately stopped him talking. Chimney, trying to help, began speaking again, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t any more dangerous than a simple call, the risk is always there. Besides, it was probably one of the safer times Buck tried to save the day, you should’ve seen him on the call last week.”

“Chim, stop talking.” Buck, who was now visibly on the spot, turned to face you. He studied your face, working out how to approach this. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you beat him to it, “I thought we spoke about this…” Buck knew you understood that no day was guaranteed, and that saving people on calls was something he would always try to do, even if it put him at risk. He also knew that he had a habit of jumping the gun and putting himself in dangerous situations without thinking it through. “I’m sorry…”

You checked your watch, and stood up. “I just wish you’d be more careful, Buck.” Chris stood up and hugged Eddie goodbye, and you did the same. “Later bro.” You said goodbye to the team and walked back to the car with Chris by your side. The breeze hit you, and you took a deep breath. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe not but you just needed a moment. You helped Chris into the car and got in yourself, turning on the radio. The short ride to Carlas mostly consisted of Chris laughing as you sang along to the music, and the occasional conversation when Chris wasn’t overly engrossed in his phone. Carla was there to greet you when you pulled up on her drive, Chris was extremely excited and practically jumped out of the car to hug her. Carla gave you a hug, “Y/N, it’s so good to see you!” You smiled and hugged back, “It’s been a while, huh? Life has been hectic.” Carla laughs at this, “You’re telling me, your brother told me all about you and Buck. Moving in together? That’s a big step!”

“We were practically living together anyway, and if I’m being honest, Eddie is probably just relieved to have his couch back. I was starting to get on his nerves.” You explained to Carla, and she chuckled. “Well, I wish you all the best. I’m gonna get Chris inside, and I’ll let you run off to work. It was lovely seeing you.” You hug Chris goodbye and bid farewell to Carla before getting into your car and beginning your journey to your place of work. In front of you, the amber light turned to red and you stopped. You could see that traffic was beginning to build up on the other side of the junction, and you didn’t want to be late. You sighed, and made the decision to take an alternate route, so when the light turned green, you indicated and pulled out to begin taking your turning. You let out a sudden gasp before you could even properly register the car coming towards you. All you could do was attempt to brace for the impact, and so you did.

A loud crunching sound surrounded you, followed by the feeling of being thrown as your car was barrelled into. You closed your eyes tightly, scared of what was next. You didn’t have the courage to open them again until the car steadied. The first thing you could see was the airbag in front of you, despite not feeling it deploy moments before. You could smell the burning of the tyres, outside of the car, you could hear the panicked voices of bystanders, but all you could focus on was the blood that was now spread across your arms, unsure of where it was actually coming from. You weren’t in pain, at least you couldn’t feel any in that moment. Is that what shock feels like? You couldn’t think, but your eyes got heavy and you fought your hardest not to succumb to the darkness.

Back at the station, the call was only just coming in. The alarm blared throughout the station, alerting the team to the call. They were quick to jump into action, grabbing their gear and piling themselves into their assigned trucks. Eddie and Buck sat beside each other, speaking casually between themselves about what had happened earlier. “Just give her some time, she’ll come around. For her, two of the people she loves most are at risk everyday, you’ve gotta imagine it can’t be easy. It’s a risky job as it is, and when you put yourself into riskier situations without needing to, it decreases the chance of making it home at the end. She’s scared. Just talk to her.” Eddie attempted to reassure Buck, who was feeling terrible. He couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind, the face that showed disappointment in his actions. Before Buck could respond, the truck halted and the team jumped out, ready to give help where needed. Buck stopped in his tracks as an all too familiar car was crushed before him. He tried not to panic, hoping that his suspicions were wrong. His eyes flicked to the number plate and his heart stopped. His feet were moving before his mind could catch up. He shouted your name, drawing Eddies attention. It took Eddie a few seconds to process what was happening. You had not long left the station, it couldn’t possibly be you. Right?

Buck arrived to your car first, nausea washed over him as he caught sight of your injured body. “Y/N? Hey, it’s me. I’m here.” You weren’t completely aware of what was happening, your eyes opened with a struggle. Your movements were weak as you turned your head to look at him. “Buck?” You spoke quietly, not completely aware of the situation at hand. “Don’t move, try and keep still.” He tried to remain as calm as he could, he didn’t want to scare you any more, he was terrified himself. Eddie ran right over to the car, his heart racing as he feared what he would find. His first instinct was to check the back seat, relief finally washing over him as he saw no sign of Christopher. Still, he needed to make sure, “Y/N, was Chris in the car?”

You shook your head, “Carlas.” Eddie felt a weight off his shoulders, knowing his son was safe. The weight soon came back when he saw the condition you were in. Your eyes rolled back, and you fell into unconsciousness. Bobby was running the scene, assigning Hen and Chim to medically assist you, and he grabbed the gear to support Buck and Eddie in freeing you from the car. Buck didn’t want to let go of your hand, but he knew he had to in order to get you out sooner. The team worked tirelessly, ensuring to be as careful as possible. Bobby handed the halligan to Buck, “Buck, you focus on getting the doors open. Diaz, grab the saw and be on standby.”

Buck groaned as he tried to pry the doors open, with no results, “Roofs too dented Cap, I can’t get it open.” Bobby nodded, and turned to Eddie, “Saws it is. Get in there Diaz, Buck, you too.” The roof was off in no time, Hen and Chim jumped straight in and equipped you with a neck brace, and got the back board in place to move you. Hen checked your vitals quickly, trying to make sure you were steady enough to be moved. “I’ve got a faint pulse, we gotta move.” They moved you out of you car quickly, and transferred you to the ambulance. “Trauma to the abdomen, possible internal bleeding. I’ll let the hospital know we’re en route.” Buck jumps into the back of the ambulance with Chimney, and instantly takes your hand in his. Hen places herself into the drivers seat, putting the ambulance into 911 mode and begins the journey as fast as she can to the nearest hospital.

Buck hated seeing you like this. He was filled with anxiety, the nausea constantly there as he studied your visible injuries. His heart sank with every second that went by, the more he thought about you laying there almost lifeless, expecting you to flatline any second now. “I’m sorry baby, we can’t leave things like this. I need you to get through this so I can apologise to you. I know I’m not the easiest person to love, and I also know that I’m the biggest pain in the ass, but I love you, and I need you. Please.” Buck sobbed as he held your hand tighter. Time seemed to be going extremely slow for Buck, yet moments later Hen was pulling up at the hospital. You were rushed in, Hen spewed all your information to the nurses as you were wheeled in and handed over. Buck, Hen and Chimney stood there as you were wheeled out of sight. One of the nurses stopped Buck from running after you, and he sat defeated in the waiting room. The rest of the team arrived soon after, Eddies face was similar to Bucks. Eddie spoke first, “Any update?” The lack of response from Buck had him on edge, fearing the worst. Luckily, Chimney filled the silence. “There’s no update, but no news it almost always good news.”

Eddie placed his hand on Bucks shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before sitting down next to him. “How’re you holding up?” Buck didn’t look up, instead he kept his head in his hands. He couldn’t respond, he couldn’t trust his voice not to give out. His leg bounced anxiously, and despite not talking, his feelings were painfully obvious. Eddie could empathise, he knew exactly what was going through Bucks mind. It was happening to him too, but he concealed it as much as he could, knowing Buck needed him. “You know, each time we’re sat in these chairs, it never gets easier. You don’t have to talk, I get it. I think you should know that I’m right here for you, I understand. Y/N is going to be okay, that I have no doubt about. She’s my sister, and us Diaz’s, we don’t back down. We fight.” Eddie continues talking, and he’s not sure whether he’s trying to convince Buck or himself.

A few hours go by, and the team are waiting as patiently as they can for an update. Maddie had arrived some time ago, and was sat with Buck. She was not only there to support her brother, but also her brothers girlfriend, who Maddie had claimed as her best friend shortly after meeting her. Bobby hands a coffee to Buck and Eddie, who hadn’t moved from their seats since arriving. This changed moments later as a nurse approached, making them stand. Buck felt as if his legs were going to give way any second. The nurse cleared her throat, “She’s stable. She’s incredibly lucky to have made it out with the injuries she did, it could’ve been a lot worse. She’s awake, if you’d like to go see her.”

Buck didn’t stick around to hear whatever else the nurse had to say, he darted through the corridor until he got to your room. He stopped to take a deep breath, and stepped inside. He was scared to look at you, all he could picture was you covered in blood still. His head shot up as he heard a voice, your voice to be exact, “Buck?”

He was by your bedside in a blink of an eye, taking your hand in his. His eyes wandered over your body, taking in each of your injuries. His heart broke a little more with each one. He finally looked you in the eyes, and that’s when it hit him. His eyes filled up with tears, “Y/N…”

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m fine, see. I’m right here.” You gave his hand a squeeze, trying to give him the reassurance he needed. Buck took a seat close to your bed, your hand in his and against his lips. You move your hand up to his cheek and wipe his tears, Buck practically melted into your touch. “I really thought I had lost you.”

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I need to apologise for my reaction earlier, that could’ve been our last conversation earlier and left without saying goodbye, or telling you how much I love you.”

Buck shook his head, “You have nothing to apologise for, I’m the one that owes you an apology. I’m sorry that I’m not more careful when I’m out on a call, I shouldn’t be that reckless. I’m sorry that I can’t promise to walk through that door every night, safe and unscathed. I can appreciate how you feel now, and I promise I’ll try my hardest to be more careful. I love you, and I don’t want you ever feeling anything close to what I’ve felt today.” You wince as you sit up, making Buck panic. You push through the pain, and pull Buck to you. “Come here.” He stands from his chair and leans down to kiss you quickly. He carefully moves your hair from your face, ensuring he doesn’t touch any of your cuts or bruises.

“I love you too, and even though I’m petrified that you won’t make it home one day, I trust that you’ll try everything in your power to make sure you do. I’m proud of you, Evan.” As you spoke, Buck smiled to himself. A sense of relief washed over him. Before he could respond, you continued. “So… does this mean I can finally get a new car now?”

Buck chuckled, “You’re a pain in the ass, Diaz.”

“Takes one to know one, Buck.”

A/N: So, I think I rewrote this like 10 times. Its been a while since I've done any writing, so please bare with me while I figure out my writing style again. Any criticism is welcome, I appreciate the feedback.

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pin-k-ink · 2 days

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friction // gojo satoru

tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, pet names cx i refuse to use y/n any more than necessary, mutual pining, implied age gap, gojo being a fucking tease, mentioned violence and injuries, sexual tension, unprotected sex, fingering, praise kink, dirty talking

wc ⇢ 10.4k

a/n: meh

If looks could kill, Gojo would be dead and buried 6 feet under right now. You glared at him from across the training hall, your eyes narrowed and your jaw clenched tight. The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. Just moments ago, he had casually commented on how your technique needed work, followed by a wink and a smirk that made your blood boil.

It wasn't that you didn't appreciate his guidance. Far from it, actually. Gojo was an incredible teacher, with a wealth of knowledge and experience that you could only dream of. His insights and advice had helped you grow tremendously as a jujutsu sorcerer. But sometimes, his teasing remarks and playful attitude made it hard for you to not wish he was dead.

Gojo, for his part, seemed utterly unfazed by your glare. He stood at the other end of the hall, hands tucked into the pockets of his baggy white pants, his signature smile playing on his lips. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a soft glow on his silver hair, making it look even more ethereal than usual.

"What's the matter, beautiful?" he called out, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Don't tell me you're giving up already?"

You gritted your teeth, your hands curling into fists at your sides. The nickname, as always, sent a flurry of butterflies through your stomach, but you refused to let it show. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

"Not a chance," you retorted, shifting into a fighting stance. Your feet were shoulder-width apart, your knees slightly bent, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. "I'll show you just how much my technique has improved."

Gojo's grin widened, his pearly white teeth gleaming in the light. He beckoned you forward with a lazy wave of his hand, as if he couldn't be bothered to take you seriously. "Then by all means," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Come at me with everything you've got."

You didn't need to be told twice. With a burst of speed, you lunged forward, your cursed energy crackling around you like a storm. It was a sensation you had grown accustomed to over the years - the tingling in your fingertips, the rush of power surging through your veins. You channeled that energy into your fists as you threw punch after punch, kick after kick, each one infused with all the frustration and determination that had been building up inside you.

But Gojo was too fast, too skilled. He dodged and weaved around your attacks like they were nothing, his movements fluid and graceful. It was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. Every now and then, he would reach out and tap you on the shoulder or the hip, a light touch that sent shivers down your spine and made you lose your focus.

You gritted your teeth, pushing yourself harder. Sweat beaded on your forehead and trickled down the back of your neck, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the man in front of you, the infuriating smile on his face, the way he made everything look so effortless.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally stumbled back, your chest heaving and your face flushed with exertion. Your muscles burned with fatigue, and your lungs felt like they were on fire. Gojo, on the other hand, looked as calm and collected as ever, not a hair out of place.

"Not bad," he said, his tone teasing. He walked towards you, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall. "But you're still relying too much on brute force. You need to learn to control your cursed energy, to use it with precision and finesse."

You let out a frustrated huff, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. It was a criticism you had heard before, and one that never failed to get under your skin. "I know," you muttered, looking away. "I'm trying."

Gojo's expression softened, and he took another step towards you. He was close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. "Hey," he said, his voice gentle. "I know you are. And you're making progress, even if it doesn't always feel like it."

He reached out and tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek for just a moment too long. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers moved a bit lower, gently tilting your head up towards him. His touch was electric, sending sparks of sensation across your skin.

"Keep practicing," Gojo murmured, his eyes locked on yours. Even through the blindfold, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "And don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. I'm always here for you, pretty."

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The nickname, combined with the low timbre of his voice and the way his fingers curled around your jaw, made your knees feel weak. It was a feeling you had grown all too familiar with over the months you had spent training with Gojo - a heady mix of attraction and frustration, desire and irritation.

With a final, lingering touch, Gojo pulled away, his hand dropping back to his side. He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your mind reeling and your skin tingling from his touch. You watched him go, your lips parted and your heart racing.

It was moments like these that made you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with Gojo. He was your teacher, your mentor, the person who pushed you to be better every single day. But he was also something more, something that made your pulse quicken and your palms sweat.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You couldn't afford to get distracted, not now. There was too much at stake, too much you still had to learn. With a sigh, you turned back to the training dummy in the corner of the room, ready to start again.

Days turned into weeks, and you threw yourself into your training with a renewed sense of purpose. You spent long hours in the training hall, perfecting your techniques and honing your skills. When you weren't training, you were out on missions, putting your abilities to the test in the real world.

It was during one of these missions that things took a turn for the worse. You had been tasked with taking down a particularly nasty curse, one that had been terrorizing a small village on the outskirts of Tokyo. It should have been a routine mission, something you had done a hundred times before.

But you had underestimated the curse's strength, and it had caught you off guard. One moment you were on the offensive, your cursed energy pulsing through your veins. The next, you were on the ground, your body battered and bruised, your vision swimming with pain.

You don't remember much of what happened next. There were flashes of light, the sound of shouting, the feeling of strong arms lifting you up and carrying you away. When you finally came to, you were back at the school, lying in a bed in the infirmary.

Gojo was there, sitting by your bedside. He looked haggard, his hair disheveled and his clothes rumpled. When he saw that you were awake, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"You gave us quite a scare there, beautiful," he said, his voice hoarse. "What were you thinking, taking on that curse alone?"

You winced, both at the nickname and the accusation in his tone. "I didn't have a choice," you said, your voice weak. "It was going to hurt those people. I had to do something."

Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know," he said, his voice softening. "But you can't keep putting yourself in danger like that. You're not invincible, you know."

You couldn't help but smile at that. "Look who's talking," you teased, your voice still weak but with a hint of your usual snark. "Mr. 'Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer' himself."

Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "Fair enough," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But I mean it, you know. You need to be more careful out there."

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your hands. They were bandaged, the white gauze stark against your skin. "I know," you said softly. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

Gojo reached out, his hand covering yours. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, chasing away the chill that seemed to have settled into your bones. "Just promise me you'll be more careful from now on," he said, his voice low and intense. "I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you looked up, your eyes meeting his. There was something in his gaze, something that made your breath catch in your throat. It was a look you had seen before, in stolen moments and lingering glances. But this time, there was no mistaking the emotion behind it.

Before you could say anything, a knock at the door startled you both. Gojo pulled his hand away, and you felt the loss of his touch like a physical ache. He stood up, clearing his throat.

"I should let you get some rest," he said, his voice back to its usual nonchalant tone. "I'll check on you later, okay?"

You nodded, watching as he walked towards the door. Just before he left, he turned back, his gaze locking with yours one last time.

"Remember what I said, pretty," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Be careful out there. I need you to come back to me in one piece."

With that, he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the memory of his touch. You leaned back against the pillows, your eyes drifting shut. Despite the pain and the exhaustion, you couldn't help but smile.

Because even though things were complicated, even though there were a million reasons why you shouldn't feel the way you did, you knew one thing for certain. Gojo cared about you, more than just as a student or a colleague. And that knowledge, warm and bright and shining, was enough to chase away the darkness, at least for a little while.

It was a few days before you were cleared to leave the infirmary, your wounds healing slowly but steadily. Gojo had been a constant presence during your recovery, stopping by to check on you whenever he had a spare moment. He would bring you books and snacks, regaling you with stories of his own misadventures as a young sorcerer.

But as much as you enjoyed his company, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. There was a new tension in the air, a crackling energy that made your skin prickle whenever he was near. You found yourself watching him more closely, taking in the way his muscles moved beneath his clothes, the way his lips curved when he smiled.

It was maddening, this newfound awareness of him. You tried to push it down, to focus on your recovery and your training. But it was always there, simmering just beneath the surface.

Which is why, when Gojo barged into your room one morning, you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had been in the middle of getting dressed, your sleep shirt halfway over your head when the door slammed open.

"Rise and shine, beautiful!" Gojo called out, his voice far too cheerful for the early hour. "Time to get back to training!"

You yelped, yanking your shirt down and whirling around to face him. "Gojo!" you shouted, your face flushed with embarrassment and anger. "What the hell? Can't you knock like a normal person?"

But Gojo just grinned, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Where's the fun in that?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, it's not like I haven't seen it all before."

Your jaw dropped, and you sputtered indignantly. "What are you talking about? You haven't seen anything!"

Gojo just shrugged, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into your room. "If you say so," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "But I seem to recall a certain someone forgetting to wear a bra to training last week."

You felt your face heat up even more, and you crossed your arms over your chest self-consciously. "That was an accident!" you protested, your voice coming out higher than you intended. "I was in a hurry and I forgot!"

Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure, sure," he said, his tone making it clear that he didn't believe you for a second. "Whatever you say, pretty."

You glared at him, your eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that," you snapped, your voice tight with anger. "I have a name, you know."

Gojo's grin only widened, and he took a step closer to you. "I know," he said, his voice low and intimate. "But I like calling you pretty. It suits you."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. He was so close now, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body, the brush of his breath against your skin. Your gaze flicked down to his lips, and you felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, to taste him and feel him and-

Suddenly, Gojo's hands were on your shoulders, and you were being spun around. You yelped in surprise as he pushed you towards the door, his grip firm but gentle.

"As much as I'd love to continue this conversation," he said, his voice strained and a little breathless, "we have work to do. Meet me in the library in ten minutes. And don't be late, or else there will be consequences."

With that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the middle of your room with your heart racing and your skin tingling. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It was going to be a long day, you could already tell.

Ten minutes later, you walked into the library, your footsteps echoing on the polished wood floor. Gojo was already there, seated at one of the long tables with a stack of books and papers in front of him. He looked up as you approached, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"There you are," he said, his voice warm and teasing. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

You rolled your eyes, dropping into the seat across from him. "I'm not that late," you grumbled, pulling one of the books towards you. "What are we working on today?"

Gojo pushed a sheet of paper towards you, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. "Your essay on cursed techniques," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I've made some notes on areas that need improvement."

You nodded, your eyes scanning the page. Gojo's handwriting was neat and precise, his comments and suggestions written in the margins. You felt a swell of pride as you read through them, noting the things you had done well and the things you needed to work on.

For the next few hours, you worked in companionable silence, the only sound the scratching of pens on paper and the turning of pages. Every now and then, Gojo would lean over to point out something in one of the books, his shoulder brushing against yours as he did so. Each time, you felt a jolt of electricity run through you, a shiver of something that had nothing to do with the chill of the library.

As the hours ticked by, you felt your eyelids growing heavy, your head nodding forward. You had been up late the night before, studying for an upcoming exam, and the lack of sleep was catching up with you. You tried to focus on the words in front of you, but they seemed to swim and blur on the page.

Suddenly, you felt gentle fingers curl around the back of your neck, and you blinked your eyes open. Gojo was leaning over you, his face soft with concern. "Hey," he said, his voice low and soothing. "Why don't you take a break? You look exhausted."

You shook your head, sitting up straighter in your chair. "I'm fine," you said, your voice thick with sleep. "I need to finish this chapter."

But Gojo just shook his head, his hand still on your nape, his thumb absently rubbing your skin. "It can wait," he said firmly. "You need to rest. Here, why don't you put your head down for a bit? I'll wake you up in a little while."

You wanted to protest, to insist that you were fine. But the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure of his fingers, was too much to resist. With a sigh, you nodded, lowering your head onto your folded arms.

As your eyes drifted shut, you felt Gojo's hand move from your neck to your hair, his fingers carding through the strands. It was a soothing motion, gentle and rhythmic, and you felt yourself sinking deeper into sleep with each passing moment.

As Gojo watched you sleep, he felt a profound sense of peace wash over him. It was a rare thing for him, to feel so content, so at ease. But something about your presence, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft curve of your lips, made all the troubles of the world seem to fade away.

Unable to help himself, he reached out, his fingertips ghosting over the delicate skin of your face. He traced the slope of your nose, marveling at the smoothness, the perfect symmetry. His touch was feather-light, a whisper of sensation, but even so, he felt a thrill run through him at the contact.

His fingers drifted lower, skimming over the soft swell of your cheeks, the strong line of your jaw. And then, almost of their own accord, they came to rest on your lips.

Gojo's breath caught in his throat as he felt the plush fullness of your mouth beneath his fingertips. Your lips were slightly parted, soft and inviting, and he felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to lean down and capture them with his own.

He imagined how it would feel, to press his lips against yours, to taste the sweetness of your breath. He wondered if you would sigh into the kiss, if you would reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, a heat pooling in his belly. He had kissed countless people before, had experienced pleasure in all its myriad forms. But somehow, he knew that kissing you would be different. It would be a revelation, a moment of perfect clarity in a world that so often seemed shrouded in shadow.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a ghost of a touch, and he heard you sigh softly in your sleep. The sound was like a siren's call, tempting him, beckoning him closer.

But even as the desire surged through him, hot and insistent, Gojo knew he couldn't act on it. Not now, not like this. You were his student, entrusted to his care, and to take advantage of that trust would be a betrayal of the highest order.

And so, with a herculean effort, he pulled his hand away, clenching it into a fist at his side. He took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm the pounding of his heart, the rush of his blood in his veins.

Minutes ticked by, then hours, and still Gojo sat by your side, his hand resting gently on your back. He knew he should wake you, send you back to your room to rest properly, but he couldn't bring himself to disturb your slumber.

Finally, as the sun began to set outside the library windows, Gojo knew he couldn't let you sleep any longer. Carefully, he gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stood.

You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open. "Sensei?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. "What's happening?"

"Shh," he soothed, his voice low and gentle. "It's alright. You fell asleep while we were studying. I'm just taking you back to your room so you can rest."

You hummed softly, your eyes drifting shut again as you nestled closer to his warmth. Gojo felt his heart skip a beat at the trust in that simple gesture, the way you curled into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He carried you through the quiet halls of the school, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floors. A few students passed by, their eyes widening at the sight of their teacher carrying a sleeping student, but Gojo paid them no mind. All that mattered was getting you to your room, making sure you were safe and comfortable.

When he reached your door, he shifted you slightly in his arms, freeing one hand to turn the knob. The room was dark and quiet, the only sound the soft whisper of your breath against his neck.

Gently, Gojo laid you down on your bed, pulling the covers up over your shoulders. You sighed softly, your face turning into the pillow, and he felt a rush of affection so strong it nearly took his breath away.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, watching you sleep. He knew he should leave, knew that staying any longer would be inappropriate. But he couldn't seem to tear himself away, couldn't stop himself from reaching out to brush one last strand of hair from your face.

"Sweet dreams, pretty," he whispered, his voice so low he wasn't sure you would hear it. "I'll see you in the morning."

With that, he turned and slipped out of your room, closing the door softly behind him. His heart was racing in his chest, his mind whirling with thoughts and feelings he couldn't quite name.

But one thing was clear, as clear as the memory of your warmth in his arms, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He was falling for you, hard and fast and irrevocably. And though he knew it was wrong, knew that he shouldn't feel the way he did, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

All he could do was hope that somehow, someday, you might feel the same way too.

The next day, you found yourself back in the training hall with Gojo, your heart still fluttering madly at the memory of his gentle touch as he carried you to bed. You tried to push those dangerously tempting thoughts aside and focus on honing your cursed techniques - but Gojo, it seemed, had other ideas.

From the moment you stepped into the hall, he was on you, teasing and taunting, pushing your buttons in all the ways he knew so well. He corrected your stances with lingering touches, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in close to adjust your posture.

"Come on, beautiful," he purred, voice low and intimate. "You can do better than that. Show me what you're really made of."

You gritted your teeth, frustration mounting with each passing moment. It was hard enough to concentrate with him invading your space, his presence an electric current setting your nerve-endings alight. But as he kept goading you, pushing and pushing until you felt like screaming, something inside you finally snapped.

With a growl of unadulterated rage, you lunged at him, hands outstretched to grab him by his shirt. Gojo's eyes widened in surprise but he didn't dodge, letting you tackle him to the mats, your body pinning his down.

For a charged moment, you could only stare at each other, chests heaving. You were suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact - the press of his strong thighs between yours, the firmness of his abdomen, the intoxicating heat radiating off him. His muscles flexed as he shifted slightly but made no move to throw you off.

He breathed your name like a prayer on his lips. "What are you doing...?"

Blinking, you came back to yourself, a hot flush creeping up your neck as you realized the position you were in. Straddling your teacher, hands fisted in his clothes, faces inches apart... Mortified, you tried to scramble off him, only for his hands to tighten around your hips, keeping you on top of him.

"I-I'm so sorry," you stammered, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me like that."

But Gojo just sat up slowly, gently letting you slide down his stomach and onto his lap as he waved off your apology. "It's alright. I pushed you too hard. I know how much your training means to you."

Glancing up, you found him watching you with a soft, almost vulnerable expression that made your heart clench painfully. He reached out, hand cupping your cheek and tilting your face up to his blindfolded one.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You're doing your best and that's all anyone can ask. I'm proud of you."

Hearing those words in his deep baritone, you felt emotion welling up, threatening to spill over. Throat tight, you managed a weak smile, leaning into his touch briefly before sliding out of his lap.

"Thank you, Sensei. I think I'm done for today though. I need some time to clear my head and refocus."

His hand fell away reluctantly but he nodded in understanding, rising fluidly to his feet and offering you a hand up. You allowed him to pull you up, hyperaware of the way his long fingers wrapped around yours, the rough calluses from years of fighting scraping pleasantly along your skin.

"Of course. Take all the time you need. And remember, I'm here if you ever want to talk. Or not talk." He shot you a playful wink.

Rolling your eyes fondly, you thanked him again before beating a hasty retreat from the quickly shrinking training room. You felt his heavy gaze on your back the entire way out.

The next few days passed in a blur of intense focus. You threw yourself into your studies, determined to master new techniques and grow stronger. But no matter how hard you concentrated, Gojo lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a phantom touch ghosting along your cheek.

He remained an inescapable presence even outside of training - "accidentally" brushing against you in the halls, showing up at the library during your study sessions, barging into your room unannounced at all hours. His teasing and flirting ratcheted up to nearly unbearable levels now that he knew the depths of his effect on you.

And lord, but you wanted nothing more than to give in, to grab him by his stupid collar and kiss that infuriating smirk right off his face. However, you couldn't let your desires interfere with your duties. The world of jujutsu was dangerous and letting yourself get distracted could mean death for you or innocent civilians.

So you grit your teeth and endured his antics, ignoring the knowing gleam in his eyes and the heat pooling in your core whenever he shot you a particularly roguish grin. You had to be strong, to remember your place as his student.

Even if every fiber of your being ached to be so much more.

Matters finally came to a head one rainy afternoon during an advanced technique lesson. Soaked to the bone and exhausted from hours of practice, you found yourself pinned to the mats yet again, Gojo's knee pressing into your thigh as he loomed over you.

Blowing a damp lock of hair out of your face, you scowled up at him petulantly. "Okay, I get it. I over extended on that last kick. No need to rub it in."

But he made no move to release you, head cocked slightly as if deep in thought. There was an odd tension in his frame that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Gojo...?"

His gaze snapped back to you, unseen eyes boring into yours with startling intensity. Without warning, his free hand came up, thumb tracing along your lower lip in a slow drag that left you trembling.

Your mouth parted on a shocked gasp just as he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear in a ghost of a touch. "You have no idea what you do to me. How badly I want to ruin you."

And then he was gone, leaving you splayed across the floor, body throbbing and mind reeling. By the time you gathered your wits enough to sit up, the training room door was already swinging shut behind his retreating back.

Staggering to your feet, you headed for the showers in a daze, thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Did Gojo really feel the same way you did? Was he implying what you thought?

No. You shook your head, sending droplets flying. Indulging in this fantasy would only end in heartbreak. He couldn't possibly return your feelings. More likely this was another strategy to fluster and throw you off balance. Just a new twist in your increasingly dangerous game.

Still, you couldn't stop the tiny kernel of hope from taking root in your chest as you let the scalding spray beat down on you, imagining elegant fingers tangling in your hair instead.

Dangerous game indeed.

A few days later, you found yourself back in the training hall again, feeling more centered and focused than you had in a long time. You went through your usual warm-up routine, stretching your muscles and getting your blood flowing.

As you bent forward to touch your toes, you heard a low whistle of appreciation from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Gojo leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk playing on his lips. His gaze raked slowly up your body, taking in every curve and plane, and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the blatant desire in his eyes.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, voice rich with amusement. "Looks like someone's been hiding a secret talent. I had no idea you were so...flexible."

You straightened up, turning to face him fully. The air between you practically crackled with tension as you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down from the challenge in his tone. "There's a lot you don't know about me, sensei," you said, voice low and teasing.

Gojo pushed off the wall, stalking towards you with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Is that so?" he murmured, stopping just shy of touching you. "Well then, maybe it's time for a private lesson. Just you and me, working on your flexibility."

Your heart stuttered at the implication, desire licking through your veins like wildfire. But you forced yourself to keep a coy smile in place, unwilling to let him fluster you so easily. "I don't know, sensei," you purred. "Do you think you can handle me?"

His answering grin was positively wicked as he leaned in close, breath fanning hotly over your ear. "Oh, beautiful," he purred back, "I think the real question is, can you handle me?"

Before you could formulate a response, Gojo was guiding you into a new stretch, hands firm on your hips as he positioned you. The heat of his touch seared through the thin material of your clothes and you bit your lip harshly, fighting back a whimper.

He led you through a series of increasingly challenging poses, hands roaming your body under the guise of deepening each stretch. You arched into his touch, skin burning everywhere he made contact, desire clouding your mind until all you could focus on was the low rasp of his voice in your ear and the delicious ache building between your thighs.

At one point, he had you bent nearly in half, chest pressed to the floor with your legs splayed out in a side split. Gojo knelt behind you, hands kneading your lower back as he urged you to sink deeper. "That's it," he murmured, "Just a little further. You're doing so good for me, pretty."

The praise ran through you like a live current, sparking along every nerve and setting you ablaze. You could feel the solid heat of him at your back and had to choke back a moan, fingers curling uselessly against the mats.

Just as you thought you might actually combust from the tension, Gojo eased you up, hands gentle on your waist as he helped you stand. "I think that's enough for today," he said softly, though the roughness of his voice belied his innocent expression. "You did great. I'm proud of you."

You managed a shaky nod, not trusting yourself to speak around the lump in your throat. He was so close, radiating warmth and barely leashed power, the clean scent of him filling your lungs until you felt dizzy with it.

For a suspended moment, you both stood frozen, lost in the gravity of everything left unsaid. Your eyes traced the strong line of his jaw, the tempting curve of his lips. When his tongue darted out to wet them, your self-control nearly snapped then and there.

But Gojo stepped back before you could do something foolish, putting much-needed distance between your bodies. "I'll see you tomorrow, [Y/N]," he said, casual and cheerful once more. "Get some rest, okay? You've earned it."

With that, he turned on his heel and sauntered off, hands tucked in his pockets. You watched him go, equal parts frustrated and relieved. These stolen moments were getting harder and harder to write off as simple teasing between teacher and student.

How much longer could you keep dancing around this inferno threatening to consume you both? Sooner or later, something would have to give. You only hoped you'd survive the fallout.

Sighing, you gathered your things and headed for the showers, resolutely ignoring the persistent ache low in your stomach. Tonight would be another long one with only your fantasies for company.

The joint mission a few weeks later was grueling, both physically and emotionally. Tracking down the malevolent curse spirit took every ounce of skill and power you possessed, pushing you to your limits and then some. But in the end, you emerged victorious - if a bit worse for wear.

Stumbling into the hotel lobby, you barely registered Gojo handling the check-in process, too focused on remaining vertical. Every muscle screamed in protest and your clothes were caked in dirt, blood, and things you'd rather not think about.

It wasn't until you were standing outside the room that his words finally sank in. "I'm sorry," you said, blinking hard. "Did you say there's only one bed?"

Gojo shrugged, looking entirely too unconcerned. "Yep. Apparently they messed up the reservation. But hey, I'm sure we can make do. We're both adults, right?"

He shot you a pointed look over his shoulder as he unlocked the door, lips quirking up slightly at your gaping expression. Before you could formulate a response, he was ushering you inside the lavish suite.

You froze just over the threshold, eyes widening at the sight before you. Plush carpet, elegant furnishings, a bed big enough to fit five people - it was easily the nicest room you'd ever stepped foot in. But all you could focus on was that single, massive bed dominating the space.

Gojo, however, wasted no time making himself at home. In a few long strides, he crossed the room and flopped backward onto the sinfully soft-looking comforter, spreading his arms out with a contented sigh.

"Ah, this is more like it! Way better than those stiff dorm cots, don't you think?"

Forcing your gaze away from the distracting stretch of his body, you gave a noncommittal hum, edging further into the room. The door swung shut with an ominous click, sealing you in with the one person you simultaneously most and least wanted to be alone with.

Dragging your eyes back to Gojo, you fought down a shiver at the blatant invitation in his posture, the teasing curl of his lips. With his rumpled hair and half-lidded eyes, he looked like pure sin sprawled out on the bed, begging to be debauched.

"Well? Aren't you going to join me?" He patted the space beside him. "There's plenty of room for two."

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest at the implication, mouth going bone dry. This was dangerous territory - you were exhausted and aching, defenses worn down to nothing. If you lay beside him now...

Scrambling for some semblance of composure, you cleared your throat and looked away, deliberately casual. "Actually, I was thinking we should probably get some sleep. Separate sleep. It's been a long day."

The pout Gojo leveled at you was downright deadly, plush bottom lip enticing you to catch it between your teeth. "Aw, c'mon beautiful! The night's still young. And we've got this big, empty room all to ourselves..." He trailed off meaningfully.

Flushing, you turned your back on him completely, rummaging through your bag for something to sleep in. "I don't know, sensei. What exactly did you have in mind?"

In a blink, strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you back into his firm chest. You gasped, nearly choking on air when his lips brushed teasingly over your ear. "Come here and I'll show you," he purred, hands settling low on your hips.

You settled down beside Gojo on the plush hotel bed, your heart fluttering nervously in your chest. The mattress dipped slightly under your combined weight as you perched on the edge, trying to maintain a respectable distance. For a long moment, you simply sat there in charged silence, acutely aware of his presence mere inches away. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, hear the soft rustling of fabric as he shifted almost imperceptibly closer.

Gojo's face was unreadable behind his ever-present blindfold, but you swore you could feel the intensity of his gaze raking over you, taking in every detail. The air practically crackled with unspoken tension, the space between you ripe with possibility. Your own eyes drifted unbidden to his lips, tracing the curve of that infamous smirk. What would it feel like, you wondered, to lean in and finally taste it for yourself? Your breath quickened at the thought.

Just as you gathered the courage to break the stalemate, Gojo's hands shot out lightning-quick, long fingers finding the sensitive spots along your ribs. An undignified yelp escaped your throat as you squirmed away, body instinctively curling in on itself even as surprised laughter bubbled up.

"Gojo!" you gasped between breathless giggles and half-hearted swats, "What are you doing?"

His grin only widened, eyes glinting with mischief behind dark lashes.

"Just trying to liven things up a bit," he replied, voice dropping to a low, playful register that sent shivers down your spine. "You looked like you could use a little fun."

Two could play at that game. Narrowing your eyes in mock outrage, a wicked idea suddenly struck. "Oh, is that so?" you purred, saccharine sweet. "Well then, sensei, prepare yourself."

Quick as a flash, your hand darted out to snatch a downy pillow and, with a mighty swing, you brought it crashing over his silver head in a magnificent explosion of feathers. His shocked bark of laughter was muffled by the impromptu weapon as you pressed your advantage, raining down fluffy blows.

Thus began the most epic pillow fight to ever grace the luxury suite. You traded volleys back and forth, a whirlwind of flying bedding and unrestrained glee. Propriety utterly abandoned, you rolled about in a graceless tangle of limbs, each trying to gain the upper hand. Your cheeks hurt from grinning, lungs burning with giddy exertion.

In that stolen moment, you weren't teacher and student, sorcerer and subordinate. You were just two young, bright souls, reveling in a reprieve from the darkness constantly nipping at your heels. Here, now, nothing existed beyond this room and the carefree laughter ringing between you.

An eternity later, chest heaving, you finally collapsed side by side in the carnage, utterly spent. Glancing over, you took in Gojo's flushed, boyish face, usually perfectly coifed hair in complete disarray, a smattering of errant feathers clinging stubbornly to the wild silver tufts. Something warm and fluttering took roost behind your breastbone at the sight.

Basking in the afterglow, it took you a moment to register your compromising position - sprawled on your back, body pressed along the solid line of his, faces scant inches apart. His arm draped loosely across your middle felt unnaturally heavy, intimate.

For a single, suspended second, you forgot how to breathe, drowning instead in this strange new awareness buzzing just beneath your skin. Gojo seemed similarly affected, features slipping into something contemplative and tender as elegant fingers traitorously began tracing delicate patterns over the exposed sliver of hip where your shirt had ridden up. You shivered at the whisper-soft touch.

"Gojo," you breathed, barely audible over the roaring in your ears.

"Shh," he hushed you gently, hand coming to rest soothingly at your waist. "It's okay, pretty. Just relax."

And then, rather than pressing the burgeoning tension simmering between you, he tugged you closer into the shelter of his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin. The embrace was chaste, devoid of ulterior motive, and yet all the more earth-shattering for it. Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into his steadying warmth, lulled by the rhythmic drumming of his heartbeat against your cheek.

A huge yawn suddenly overtook you, eyelids growing heavy. The adrenaline of the day was quickly seeping away, leaving pleasant exhaustion in its wake. "Get some sleep," Gojo murmured into your hair, voice rumbling through his chest. "I'll be right here if you need me."

And though your racing thoughts screamed that you shouldn't, that this was toeing a dangerous line, you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Surrounded by comfort and safety, bonelessly relaxed in a way you so rarely allowed yourself, you drifted off into a dreamless slumber, content in the knowledge that he would guard you through the night.

The next morning, however, you awoke alone, the space beside you long since grown cold. Disappointment and uncertainty churned in your gut, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Had you simply imagined the intimacy of the previous evening? Mistaken a meaningless moment of pity for something more? With a groan, you buried your burning face into the pillow.

It was only when you rolled over that you spotted it - a folded square of hotel stationery perched neatly on the nightstand. With trembling fingers, you retrieved the note, heart pounding as you unfolded it to reveal Gojo's elegant scrawl.

"Had to run out for a bit," it read. "See you back at the school. Sweet dreams, beautiful."

A broad, silly grin split your cheeks as you traced reverent fingertips over the words, lingering on the private endearment. Clutched to your chest like a talisman, you fell back onto the bed with a giddy sigh, staring up at the ceiling with stars in your eyes. Your smile never wavered the entire trip home.

A few weeks later, you found yourself standing morosely in Gojo's apartment kitchen, every available surface covered with an explosion of baking supplies. It was a dizzying array of flour, sugar, chocolate, fruit - everything you'd need to whip up an impressive assortment of mouth-watering desserts.

Unfortunately, this wasn't some cozy bonding activity - it was a punishment. After your abject failure on a recent mission, Gojo had been understandably livid. His normally unflappable composure had fractured, revealing the sheer depth of his terror and concern.

The cursed object you'd gone after solo was more dangerous than anticipated and you'd been severely injured in the ensuing scuffle. "How could you be so reckless?" he'd demanded, voice ragged with some unnameable emotion. "You could have been killed. Do you have any idea how that would have made me feel?"

Shame had burned through you like acid, head bowed under the weight of his agonized stare. "I'm sorry, sensei," you'd mumbled, fighting back the sting of tears. "I didn't mean to let you down."

Running a hand through his wild silver locks, Gojo had deflated slightly. "I know you didn't," he'd sighed, "but you need to be more careful. I can't lose you, pretty."

Your heart had stuttered at the raw admission, eyes wide and disbelieving as you'd finally met his gaze. But he'd looked away before you could respond, expression closing off into something unreadable once more.

That's how you'd ended up here, consigned to a grueling weekend of non-stop baking. "And I expect nothing short of perfection," he'd declared with that familiar smirk. "Since you're so determined to waste your talents, we're going to put them to the test."

Countless hours in and you were ready to well and truly throttle him. He hadn't been content to simply observe your cake-fueled toil, oh no - he'd posted up in the kitchen alongside you, providing a ceaseless stream of 'helpful suggestions' in that low, melodic drawl.

Whisk clattering into the mixing bowl, you slapped an indignant hand over your mouth to muffle a traitorous whimper as Gojo materialized at your back. His chest pressed flush to your spine, breath curling sinfully around the shell of your ear as he bent to examine your handiwork. "Make sure you cream the butter and sugar together really well," he purred, palm skimming down to rest at the small of your back. "Nice and slow, just like that."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed to any merciful god that he'd attribute your full-body shiver to the chill of the refrigerator still wafting over your overheated skin. And lord have mercy, his hands - those long, dexterous fingers you'd spent far too many lonely nights imagining on your body were definitely, unequivocally sliding down to grip your hips, thumbs tracing maddening circles over the jut of bone through your thin leggings.

A sharp inhale had you glancing over, catching him in the act of slipping a digit into the mixing bowl for an illicit taste. He made a low sound of approval as he brought it to his lips, tongue peeking out to swipe broad strokes over the creamy coating. "Mmm, delicious," he sighed, hooded eyes ensnaring yours. "But I bet it would taste even better off of you."

You sucked in a sharp breath, the very air seeming to thicken with tension as Gojo's darkening gaze bored into yours. Before you could so much as form a coherent thought, his hand whipped out to capture your wrist in an unforgiving grip. Calloused fingertips skated over your knuckles before tugging your hand towards his mouth with agonizing slowness.

Heart pounding wildly, you could only look on in rapt fascination as he purposefully dragged the pad of your sugar-dusted index finger between the plush seam of his lips. The soft, lived warmth of his mouth engulfed the very tip as his eyelids fluttered in apparent rapture. An embarrassingly needy whimper punched its way past your constricted throat at the erotic display.

Gojo's stare remained locked on yours as his tongue slowly unfurled, swiping in languid, maddening stripes to lave up the sticky-sweet trail. You watched, transfixed, as his cheeks hollowed minutely on each indulgent suckle. The bolt of molten, aching want that lanced straight to your core was dizzying in its intensity, leaving you flushed and swaying dazedly into his solid frame.

When at last he released your fingertip with one final, lingering lap of his rough tongue, the tortured sound he dragged from your parted lips bordered on the obscene.

Suddenly, the once-spacious kitchen felt stiflingly small, air too hot and heavy to pull into your lungs. Unbidden, your gaze darted down to trace his mouth, lingering on the sheen of saliva clinging to his plush lower lip. What would it be like, you wondered wildly, to surge up on your toes and lick it off? To finally give into the temptation that had plagued you since that night in the hotel room and discover if he tasted as sinful as he looked?

It was only when his smirk widened into a full-blown Cheshire grin that you realized you'd been caught staring like a dog with its tongue lolling out. Heat rapidly flooded your cheeks as you whipped back around, praying to spontaneously combust on the spot. A ghost of a touch through your hair had you swallowing harshly, fingers white-knuckled against the edge of the countertop. You could practically feel the path of his gaze as it dragged up the rigid line of your spine but you refused to turn, terrified of what he might see written across your face were you to meet his eyes right now.

The press of lips just behind your ear had you jerking, an embarrassing squeak punching out of your throat. "Good girl," he rumbled, and the blatant satisfaction in his voice made you want to drown yourself in the bowl of egg whites you'd just finished whisking within an inch of its life. "I knew you had it in you."

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, losing yourself in the soothing monotony of measuring, mixing and portioning out heaping trays of dough into uniform spheres. Soon enough, you found yourself pleasantly adrift in the familiar haze of concentration that came with long hours in the kitchen. The sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled your senses as you bustled about from oven to oven, carefully monitoring pans of cookies and intricate latticed pies.

Lulled into complacency by the peaceful atmosphere, you never even heard Gojo sneak up until large palms were wrapping securely around your waist, tugging your back into the solid heat of his chest. Blinking sluggishly, you glanced down at the thick pot of bubbling caramel you'd been methodically stirring moments before.

"Careful, pretty," he chided gently, maneuvering the spoon to the far edges where a few darker swirls were beginning to creep in. "Don't let it burn."

Only when he was certain you wouldn't scald yourself or ruin the batch did he release you, though not without a teasing little squeeze that had your cheeks coloring all over again.

By the time the last tray finally emerged from the oven, golden and steaming, you were dangerously close to faceplanting right into your latest culinary creation. Gojo eased the spoon from your cramping hand, brows furrowed as he scrutinized your slumped posture.

"Hey," he prompted gently, "You okay, beautiful?"

Too exhausted to bother fudging the truth, you shook your head, fighting to keep your drooping lids from sliding shut altogether. "Just tired," you yawned, "Guess it really has been a long day."

Something soft flashed across Gojo's face then, gone too quickly to properly parse. Large hands settled on your hips as he turned you to face him fully, head cocked assessingly. After apparently coming to some silent conclusion, he bent at the knees and, without warning, hoisted you up onto the countertop in one fluid movement, fingers pressing against your hips.

"Rest," he commanded, cutting off your half-hearted protest with a stern look. Long fingers carded adoringly through your hair, brushing stray strands back from your clammy forehead. You nearly purred at the soothing contact, lashes fluttering wildly against your cheeks.

When he shifted to pull back, one of your hands shot out of its own accord, fisting in the front of his shirt to tug him stumbling into the bracket of your thighs. Wide eyes locked on his, so close you swore you could see a ring of silver around those striking pools of blue. For a charged moment, the only sound was your shared breathing and the faint bubble of cooling caramel on the stovetop.

A muscle ticked in Gojo's jaw and then he was leaning in, the warm brush of lips at your temple practically scorching in its tenderness. "I'll finish up here," he promised in a rough whisper before disentangling himself to shoo you off towards the nearby couch. Already half-asleep, you were powerless to resist as your legs moved on autopilot.

Burrowing into the plush cushions, you watched through heavy lids as Gojo puttered around the kitchen, putting away ingredients and packaging up an explosion of colorful delights. The low rumble of his absentminded humming buoyed you gently into slumber as your heartbeat slowed to match the steady cadence.

These quiet moments of care and support, you thought drowsily, were worth more than a thousand love songs blasting from the rooftops. Here, in the shelter of his presence, the world narrowed down to just the two of you, separate from the darkness and chaos outside.

Hand outstretched in hopeless yearning, you finally succumbed to sleep's inexorable pull, dreams full of silver hair and secret smiles. A single word ghosted past your lips like a prayer just before you went under.

"Satoru."

And then there was only blissful darkness.

Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of gentle fingers carding through your hair. Gojo was seated beside you on the couch, gaze soft as he watched over your slumber.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he murmured, voice a deep rumble that sent tingles down your spine. "Feel any better?"

You hummed an affirmative, stretching languidly before settling back against the plush cushions. "Much. Thank you for letting me recharge."

Gojo's smile broadened and he shifted closer, arm draping along the back of the couch behind you. "Of course. I know how hard you've been working." His tone sobered. "I don't want you running yourself ragged like that again though, okay pretty? Promise me you'll take it easier from now on."

Meeting his intense stare, you felt yourself getting lost in the molten blue of his eyes, deeper and more turbulent than any ocean. "I promise," you whispered, transfixed.

Something flickered across his expression then, tender and wanting. Slowly, giving you ample time to pull away, Gojo leaned in until his brow rested gently against yours, breaths mingling in the scant space between you. Your eyes slid shut of their own accord as his nose brushed tenderly along yours in an achingly intimate caress.

And then, softer than a sigh, his lips were on yours - a gossamer brush at first before settling in a warm, unhurried glide. Instinctively, you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until the hard planes of his body bracketed you against the cushions. He went willingly, slotting one lean thigh between your parted legs as his tongue teased at the seam of your mouth in a silent request for deeper exploration.

A low keen escaped the back of your throat as you opened for him eagerly. He surged forward with renewed fervor, mouth moving over yours in a heated glide of searing, slick heat as he coaxed your tongues into a sensual dance. Utterly intoxicated, your fingers wound into the thick strands at his nape, holding him close as your senses drowned in the taste, smell and feel of him surrounding you.

Gojo cradled you reverently, one broad palm cupping your jaw while the other mapped the dip of your waist through the thin material of your shirt. You arched shamelessly into his touch, chasing that electrifying tingle that sparked across your nerves with every heated caress. An embarrassingly needy whine slipped free when he finally pulled back, putting barely an inch between your lips as you both struggled to breathe.

"Satoru," you rasped out, practically delirious with wanting. You could feel his smile against your mouth as he reclaimed it in another breathtaking kiss, slower but no less intense.

"I've got you, pretty girl," he purred between devastating sweeps of his talented tongue. "I'll always take such good care of you."

You believed him wholeheartedly in that moment, drowning in sensation as his touch grew bolder, both cherishing and claiming every inch of newly exposed skin. Rational thought fled in the wake of his ardent worship, the world shrinking down to just his body, his hands, his sinful mouth rendering you into an incoherent, needy mess.

Distantly, you recognized this as a line you could never uncross - a point of no return. But Gojo was so warm, so solid and reassuring around you that you couldn't find it in yourself to care about consequences. Not when he was pillaging your lips with such fervent devotion, hands mapping out every shudder and whimper he pulled from your rapidly unraveling form.

All you knew was that you never wanted this to end, this sublime sublime torture of hands and lips and roaming caresses that stoked your desire ever higher into an inextinguishable blaze. Fisting in his hair, you pulled him impossibly closer with a wounded sound.

"Please," you begged against his mouth, though you weren't quite sure what you were asking for. More, everything, a lifetime of this sublime rapture - you needed it all like you needed air to breathe.

Gojo simply hummed low in his throat, the vibration doing devastatingly sinful things to your already overheated skin. "Always so greedy for me," he purred, rolling his hips in one lazy, purposeful grind that punched the air from your lungs. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to take such good care of you."

True to his word, he lost himself in lavishing every inch of exposed skin with hot, open-mouth kisses until you were trembling and writhing beneath him. Only then did he trail scorching paths lower, intent on learning exactly what sounds and caresses could reduce his normally unflappable student to a whimpering, pleading mess.

Your clothes quickly became a haphazard pile on the floor, joining the growing heap of his discarded layers. His dexterous fingers found purchase everywhere they touched, sending lightning bolts of pleasure zinging through your veins until all you could do was cling to him desperately.

Gojo was no less affected, his usually immaculate silver locks falling in a disheveled halo around his head, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide with lust. The sight was almost enough to send you careening over the edge right then and there.

His smirk told you he knew precisely the effect he was having. "Look at you," he praised in a low, silken drawl, "so beautiful and needy for me. Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me?"

You nearly sobbed as his clever fingers curled perfectly inside you, coaxing you higher and higher, until you were practically vibrating with the strain.

"So perfect, my sweet girl. Such a good little slut, taking my fingers like that. C'mon, let go, beautiful. Come for me."

With a strangled cry, you shattered, back arching off the couch as his mouth latched onto one rosy peak, teeth catching on the hardened bud in a delicious bite of pain. He worked you through the waves, whispering sinful praises into the sweat-slick skin of your breasts as you shuddered and quaked around his hand.

The aftershocks still hadn't abated when he was flipping you onto your hands and knees, kneeling behind you with his cock in hand. You watched with lidded eyes, heart skittering in your chest as he pumped lazily, his other hand coming to grip your hip.

"Gonna make you feel so good, pretty," he promised, dragging the flushed head over your entrance teasingly. "Want to see you fall apart on my cock. You're gonna look so gorgeous when I fuck you full, mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to."

The words set your entire body alight, a fresh surge of arousal trickling down your trembling thighs. A breathless whimper was all you could manage, eyes rolling back at the delicious drag of his cock against your oversensitive flesh.

With a groan, Gojo sheathed himself fully in one slow thrust, burying his cock to the hilt. Your head fell forward with a breathless cry, spine curving instinctively to deepen the angle.

"God, look at you, baby," he gasped, sounding utterly wrecked. "Fuck, you're so perfect, so tight around me. Such a good girl, taking me so well."

And then, without further preamble, he was pulling out nearly to the tip before snapping his hips back home in a relentless tempo that had the couch squeaking and shaking beneath you.

The room was filled with the obscene sounds of your skin slapping together, punctuated by his rough grunts and your high-pitched keens. You couldn't even muster the strength to move, could only kneel there and take whatever he chose to give you, his grip on your hips the only thing keeping you upright.

He pounded into you hard and fast, the delicious stretch of him nearly overwhelming in its intensity. Every nerve was lit aflame, a wildfire racing through your veins. You were so close, you could feel the precipice rushing up to meet you.

"Touch yourself for me, pretty," he urged, hips slamming into yours. "Let me feel you come."

Your hand shot down to frantically circle your clit, fingers slipping over the sensitive nub with practiced ease. Within seconds, your body was locking up, vision whiting out as clear fluid gushed out of you, drenching the couch beneath you.

"That's it," Gojo groaned, hips stuttering. "Fucking squirt for me, beautiful."

With a muffled curse, he buried himself balls deep, fingers digging painfully into your waist as he pumped rope after rope of hot cum into you. You could feel every throb, the pulse of his cock as he filled you up.

Afterwards, you collapsed into an exhausted, sweaty heap, utterly boneless. You floated on a cloud of endorphins, drifting hazily through the haze of afterglow.

It was only once Gojo's breath had slowed and steadied that you finally dared to glance up, half-afraid you'd see regret or remorse etched into his features. Instead, he met your questioning gaze with a soft, tender smile, brushing the hair back from your flushed cheeks with surprising gentleness.

"I've got you, pretty," he murmured again, thumb grazing your flushed cheekbone. "Sleep. We'll figure out...this...in the morning."

Tilting your head back, you searched his lidded gaze, looking for any hint of hesitation or regret. But his striking blue eyes were clear, open and certain in a way that squeezed the breath from your lungs. Whatever came next, you realized with a strange sense of calm certainty, you wouldn't face it alone.

Offering him a small, private smile, you pressed one last lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before tucking your head under his chin once more. He tightened his protective arms around you as your breathing gradually synced.

As the world shrank down to just the two of you cocooned together on the couch, you let your eyes drift shut.

You had both crossed a line tonight, whether you were ready or not. There was no going back to the way things were before. But as sleep began pulling you under, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. Whatever came next, you would take it on together, come what may.

Nestling closer, you let out a slow exhale and surrendered to the pull of slumber, secure in that singular certainty. The rest could be figured out later.

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kihyunsflavor · 9 hours

Text

Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink, manipulation (not reader)

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in her guest room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed, you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

#feyd rautha #feyd smut #dune part two #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #dune x reader #dune imagine #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fic #austin butler x reader #dune fanfic #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha smut #feyd-rautha x reader #kihyunsflavor

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gglitch1dd · 1 day

Note

How would Dilf Izuku react if anything happened to reader when she is in labor? For example maybe she faints because she’s losing too much blood (sorry if this doesn’t make sense)

(Sorry for answering so late Anon)

Interesting thing about DILF Izuku is the fact that he is there for EVERY single birth. He is there. He gets the call from the hospital saying that you're in labour and he literally tells his PA that he's officially on leave and no one can say otherwise.

After the first two times, he's gotten the hang of what he's supposed to do and what his role is as your husband. He takes his job very seriously.

He's there to hold you whenever you want him to.

He's an errand boy and he picks up the articles of clothing that you end up throwing off yourself during labour.

He's the object to your verbal abuse while in labour. Yes, he knows it's his fault. Yes, he knows you want to kill him. Yes, he knows that this is another sprout you got to push out of your vajayjay. Yes, he still loves you. Yes, he's going to shut up now.

He supports you with loving words. He's right there by your side. He's scared shitless but he doesn't show it because he knows that you need him to be strong when you feel so helpless to the force of nature that his child birth.

Don't faint. Just sit there and look pretty.

Those are the jobs he has listed for himself among many others like make sure his mom is looking after the boys and have the baby bag ready and not to get a speeding ticket while doing so.

Your final pregnancy with Koda was a scary one. Mostly because you were high risk at the time and other than a small fainting scare, you were fine. Everything was fine. The labour was normal and you delivered the baby safe and sound.

A squealing and crying little baby boy that had deep forest green hair and a set of pipes to wake up the dead. He was beautiful and Izuku was so proud of you. He held you with gentle kiss to the top of your head, tears in his eyes at the sight of his new baby boy.

And for five minutes, everything was perfect. Your son was placed on your chest and the three of you were together. Father, mother and son.

Until suddenly, nothing was okay.

"Izuku..." Your voice was breathy as you raised your hand to hold his arm.

Izuku looked away from his son to you. "Yes?" It took less than a second and Izuku knew that nothing was okay. You weren't okay. You were fading, and you were fading fast. Your eyes were fluttering and suddenly your heart rate was declining. He stood up straight. "Y/N. Y/N! Y/N stay with me." He shouted as one of the nurses went running to check on your vitals.

One of the midwives took the baby out of your arms, the newborn's face twisting into a cry at the shouting.

You tried looking at your husband and you tried focusing on him but your breaths were too slow and far between and your eyes were too heavy to stay open. Izuku held your hand, frozen, trying to figure out what was happening. Why weren't you awake anymore?

Why were you still bleeding?

What did the doctor say? Why were you still here?

Why was he just standing there. Why did he let them position him away from you?

Why couldn't he hear a thing?

His wife was there! You were right there! Yet he was... helpless.

And that's when the sinking terror settled in. The reminder that as a father, Izuku could do nothing when it came to this process. He could do nothing. He wasn't a doctor, he wasn't a nurse, he wasn't God. He could do nothing but watch as his beautiful wife, his beautiful loving wife, mother to five of his children, lay there as they tried to stop the bleeding and wake you up.

Izuku moved to grab onto your hand again, and he prayed. He prayed so hard that his mother would probably be impressed right about now.

How a man who had everything, who had the money, got the fame, the influence, the wife, the kids, the family that he wanted, was reduced to nothing but tears and begging for you to not leave him.

Your eyes opened as you turned to look at your right hand. Holding your hand in a death grip was the hands of your husband. You could only see the head of his hair as he seemed to be kneeling at the side of your bed. You heard him muttering and saying something but you weren't exactly sure.

You raised an eyebrow. "Izuku?"

Your husband raised his head, and that's when you saw his beautiful green eyes were red with tears as they just fell from his eyes. He looked up at you as if you were a ghost for a moment before a sob came out of his mouth as he pulled your hand to his face. He cried and you didn't know why he was crying.

Didn't you just take a nap?

"Izu, are you okay?" You asked him gently. "Why are you crying? Where's the baby?" You asked looking around. Your body felt heavy but that was labour for you.

Izuku couldn't let go of you. "Oh thank God." He let out with a sigh. He kissed the back of your hand as he refused to look away from you.

-Glitch1d

#dilf midoriya #dilf deku #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #mha x y/n #deku x reader #mha

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strawberrymochin · 3 days

Text

Weakling ♪

╰┈➤ ❝ use your pretty mouth ❞

Genre- smut

Synopsis- sukuna fucks you among the dead corpses of your crew members.

Word count- 2.4k

Blood splattered on your face as a strike of cursed energy made the head of your last crew member to fall off his body. It rolled over, leaking blood, halting up to you till its infront of your legs, as you stare in horror.

The still headless body of your friend collapsed onto the vast floor, joining the other corpses of innocent humans. And now it's your turn.

You look up to sukuna, to see him grinning at you, wickedly. In one blink, he sprang upto your position, making the same gesture he did to kill the others. You back off dodging his attack. You're the last one alive, and maybe not for much long, your last hope is the help coming for you from the jujutsu high, till then you need to keep him engaged, letting him toy with your life.

"Aww, the mortal got swift moves huh! I'm impressed. Honestly I never thought you weakling would survive this long." He mocks attacking you once again.

"I still impressed you though." You reply, dodging off his punch, which was deprived of any cursed energy. Sukuna threw one, two and three attacks consequently till one of his kicks strike you hard on your stomach, causing you to lapse till your back hit the cold wall of the tunnel.

You cough out blood as sukuna laughs. "So tell me, pretty weakling, how shall I kill you?" He raises your chin up, using his index finger, to make you look into his eyes. "Shall I slash your body parts?" He says, "or shall I take your heart out?"

"Don't you have any better option?" You spit out, not taking your eyes off him. You really shouldn't provoke him, now that he regained most of his power. Time doesn't seem to slip away, and you have no clue how long it will take for the rescue team to show up.

At this point you're not even sure if any help from even any special grade sorcerer would stop him, and you're just a semi grade 1 sorcerer. Practically nothing infront of him. Still your pride forces you to forget your position, deciding to rile him up. If you have to die in sukuna's hands anyway, you would rather die pissing him off.

"You sure have a big mouth.....why not put it to good use?" His index trailed down from your chin to your throat, adding other fingers to grip your throat, strangling you.

"Good u-se...l-ike what? Suck your dick?" You manage to voice out, as your hands try to loosen his grip.

Sukuna stilled for a while, his grip on your throat loosened a bit, for you to fill enough oxygen in your lungs which he drew out.

The thick metallic smell of blood lingered in the air. Even in the dim lighting of the tunnel, sukuna's shadow engulfed your entire body. The king of curses is only a step away killing you, then why isn't he acting upon it? Why is he staring at you like that?

His eyes fixated at you, narrowing a bit as a devious smile crawls his lips. "You impressed me once again," he said, "now get down on your knees and suck it." His hands travelled to your nape, thumb drawing circles behind your ear.

For moments you do nothing but stare at him. Then your knees sinked down, obeying him, without breaking the eye contact. You wanted to keep him engaged, and there seemed to be no other option than this.

Your hands brushed on his clothed groin, almost gaping at the bulge you feel in there. Sukuna grinned wider, at your response, his hands are now gripping your messy braid. You unzip his pants, pulling it down slowly as his huge hard length pops out. As huge as his dick is, it is adorned with two stripes of tattoos just like his entire body.

He's already leaking precum, for a moment you are unsure how to fit such a huge thing in your mouth. Sukuna parted his lips to say something, but stopped midway, sucking in a breath, when you put your fingers around it, and start stroking and massaging his shaft.

You could practically feel his dick grow even more, as his tip swells red with more precum. Your feel his veins throbbing at your touch. A ghost smile spreads through your lips, it would be a total lie to say you weren't aroused at the sight of his huge cock calling for you. Your heart was pounding in your chest as blood buzzed in your ears.

"Use your pretty mouth, weakling," he grunts, "fast." You nodded obediently, kissing the tip lightly, then using your tongue to give it a few licks, tasting his precum. A few moments ago, you were there fighting for your life against him, now you are gladly licking his cock, about to give him a blowjob.

"Mhmmh....." He groaned, shoving his cock, into your mouth lacking patience. "Suck it," he rasped, "put your mouth to good use"

You found yourself in daze, your mind couldn't focus on anything, suddenly you don't remember why you even agreed to do this. But it felt good. Hear coiled up in the lower pit of your stomach as your tongue swirled around his cock, tracing the veins that throbbed in pleasure, as you bob your head up and down trying to take in as much length as you could, finding a rhythm. How would it feel to have this cock filling you up?

One hand of yours played with his balls, while the other holds his thighs for support. You look up, sucking in and out, rolling your tongue over his shaft, not forgetting the tip. Sukuna is looking at you, his eyes glazed with lust, lips parted, breathing heavily, tilting his head back at the sudden sensation of you sucking on the tip, bucking up his hips, causing you to gag. You were about to pull away, but he shoved your head deeper till you reach his full length.

Sukuna, never in his mortal or immortal life experienced this desire, desire to destroy you, corrupt you, fuck your pretty mouth till you beg him for mercy. Your warm mouth wrapped around his cock, made him go nuts. When you kissed his tip, licking it like a popsicle, swirling your tongue around his shaft, he felt like you're sucking his soul.

"Hahh....Aaah....uugh" he grunted, fucking your mouth, as you tear up, drooling, choking on his huge cock. Sukuna increases his pace, drawing out oxygen from you. "Mngh-ph....nmh.." you cried out, sensing his cock twitching in your mouth. His ragged breath and rough thrusts told you he's on the verge of reaching his orgasm.

"Aaghh....hahh...mnph....such a good girl....mhmm, want me to cum in your mouth? Hahh?" He pulled on your braid making you look up into his eyes. You nodded.

You looked so pretty with those messy hairs coming off your braid, tears staining your face dampening the dried blood flakes, lipstick smugged off whose stains linger around his cock. Sukuna's breath hitched at this sight, edging him hard. His cock twitched, as he jolted in pleasure, eyes rolling as he cums in your mouth.

You pull away, swallowing his load as much as you could.

Sukuna bends to your level, face flushed, hint of satisfaction on his it. "So tell me, shall I kill you now?"

You take in a ragged breath before answering him, "do what you please, but fuck me before that." You say, coughing a bit, wiping the mixture of his cum and your drool from your dripping down your chin. Even if you're dying today there's ain't no way you're dying horny like that.

One second.

It takes one second for sukuna to grab your wrists and pin them over your head, holding them down with only one of his hand. He looked very much of a predator hunting for his prey, totally hovering over you.

His dark eyes scanned your face and then slowly it travelled down to your neck, then to your collarbone, and then to your chest.

"As you wish" sukuna's velvet voice, rang around your ears, getting you even more drenched as his other hand comes up in the air, pointing at you, making a gesture with his finger.

The cold sensation of cursed energy quivered through your body. For a moment you couldn't understand what happened right now. He used his cursed energy on you but somehow you were still alive.

He draws you out of your thoughts, nibbling on your skin, almost drawing out blood. You wince, as his teeth sink deeper, the taste of your blood drived him crazy,as his hand grope your breasts, kneading them. "Mhmn....sukuna" you mewled, he draws his nails over your hardened nipples, playing with them, sending jolts of sensitivity.

Your eyes widened as it striked you. He used cleave to rip off your clothes, which now pooled beside you in pieces. The only piece of fabric still left on your body was your panties.

You arch your back in pleasure, a needy moan escaping your lips, as sukuna takes one of your nipple in his mouth, licking it and then sucking in roughly. He repeats the same actions for the other nipple, freeing your hands as he kicks off his pants which were pooling around his legs, grinding his cock on your lower abdomen regaining it's hardness.

Sukuna trails rough kisses, as your hands wrap around his built body. It's happening. It's finally happening.

You could not decide whether to feel proud or sad. Being fucked by the king of curses, sukuna himself can be considered sort of an achievement right?

"So wet for me huh, you horny weakling" you don't even know when his hand travelled down to your pussy, rubbing your clothed clit, drenching into your juices.

"Nngh...sukuna please! I need it." You beg, looking into his crimson red eyes, squirming with need. "Need what baby? Use your words..."

Sukuna grinds his cock over your clothed pussy. "I need you." You whimper, wanting to feel him inside you. Your nails sink in his arms marking bruises as he brushes his finger over you sensitive nipple again. "Beg in detail baby....wanna know what exactly my mortal slut wants..."

"I want you to fill me up. Fuck me. Destroy my cun—AHHH" before you could finish your sentence, sukuna rips the last piece of fabric from your body, slamming it in without any notice.

"Aaah, f-fuck it baby- ah....so tight...mmnh"

Sukuna lowly grunts in pleasure, as he's sinking himself inside of your gummy walls. Your cunt looked so pretty, streching for his cock, wrapping it around so well. He fitted in you like a puzzle piece made for each other. He felt so warm with you wrapped around him.

It felt heavenly, as his mind fogs into the frantic daze you're luring him in. Unable to resist yourself, you started bucking your hips upwards wanting to feel him. You wanted him close. Even more close.

He started thrusting into you, picking up his pace, steady and rough at the same time. you wrap your legs around his abdomen, allowing him to pound deeper, making your eyes roll in pleasure.

He filled you up so well, even better than you thought. The way he slammed it in, streching you up sending delicious shivers down your spine. Your mind felt fuzzy and ecstatic as he thrusts hungrily, causing you dripping your sloppy mess on his dick. His cock dived deep in you, hitting spots even you weren't aware of. You could feel his blood rushing through his veins, rubbing inside of your cunt. Pushing in and out.

He fucks you like he's fighting with you. Just like before. Except what you're fighting for is to crawl into eachother's skin. He wanted to kill you before. The taste of your blood on his tongue was intoxicating.

A part of him still wants to kill you, but—

"Mmmnh...ahh...sukuna..."

One of his arms slides down to your waist, while the other rests beside you to support his weight. Sukuna hisses as you clench your gummy walls around him.

"Hmnh...yeah..." His voice came out husky and if you weren't hearing wrong, being all brainfucked at the intensity he pounded you, his voice was half an octave lower than before. He could tell your close by how tightly you clenched around him. Your sweet whimpers sounded euphoric to his ears. The most melodious thing he ever heard.

Desperate, filthy noises echoed through the entire tunnel, as he fucked you mercilessly. You cried out his name as his slides his cock in and out almost too fast with the help of your slick juices mixed along with his precum.

You both were sweating and panting. Fucking eachother like there's no tomorrow. Among the dead bodies of your crew members. However you didn't care. Atleast not now that he's banging you.

"Ahh...hahh...I'm-m close...ahh...cumming" you cry out in pleasure, nails marking his back, tearing up for the second time in a row. "Yeah..hmnh...cum for me. Cum on my cock, baby."

Your body surrendered to fervent bliss, as you feel the build up tension finally releasing, arching your back, curling up your toes. The electric waves of your high jolts through your body like a rollar coaster as you cum on his cock.

You looked at sukuna with your half lidded eyes, as he chased his own climax. And the look on his face was hauntingly beautiful, the one you would never forget. His red eyes never leaving your face as he fucked you, similar red tainting his cheeks, lips parted taking ragged breaths. He bit his lower lip, ramming into you.

You could feel his cock, twitching and throbbing inside you. A muscle on his jaw ticked as he emptied himself into you, with a final rough thrust.

For moments, none of you move, or say anything. Your chests still heaving trying to catch a proper breath. Sukuna was about to pull out, when you raised your hand cupping his face.

His heart skipped a bit as you slowly pull him, arching your neck, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, then, on his lips.

The kiss was soft, feathery and delicate. Something sukuna never felt before. The way you looked at him, through your half lidded tired eyes; the way his love bites were painted your on body like an art piece on an empty canvas; the way you made him lose his control was something he never experienced.

He eyed you for a brief moment, before pulling his length out, as you wince at the emptiness. However you are too spent to react. His hot liquid leaked out from your pussy, dripping on the floor.

~♡~

The sound of cars arriving, from a bit far turned both of your attention. The help which you called from jujutsu high is here. You turn your head back to look at him when he pressed two fingers on your forehead.

Your mind went blank, as if falling into a deep trance, passing out. Sukuna gets up, scooping up your naked body, as he looks at your face.

A part of him still wants to kill you, but make no mistake. He's certain, he could kill for you.

a/n- this is my first time attempting to write smut. Ignore if there are any mistakes. I'm hella nervous 'bout it. The header is made by me (sukuna one in the last) do not use it without my permission.

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 days

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [18] - Boundaries

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Family dinner can get tense.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“Charm, how long are you going to keep this silent treatment going?” Bucky’s voice reached you and you kept your focus on Alpine, holding the toy as she smacked it with her paw. “I mean you were the one who went and met up with your ex—”

“A friendly lunch!” you said, lifting your gaze from Alpine to see him leaning against the door of his changing room, his arms crossed. Your heart skipped a beat but you pursed your lips, painfully aware of the petulant expression on your face.

“Does he know it was friendly?”

“What do you want me to do Bucky, make him sign a paper to acknowledge it?” you asked back and he rolled his eyes.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said. “Why did you two break up?”

You frowned. “What?”

“I mean I know how good you are at holding grudges, so being friends with an ex doesn’t sound like you, to be honest.”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe he didn’t give me any reason to hold a grudge,” you said. “No wonder you wouldn’t get it.”

He gawked at you before running a hand over his face.

“I apologized like one thousand times—”

“You sent me a text couple of months later that said ‘you’re not still angry, are you’?” you corrected him. “Do you even know what an apology means?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh you do know,” you said. “I stand corrected.”

“No I mean, I’m sorry for that night.”

“Not accepted,” you deadpanned, scratching at Alpine’s head as she got bored of the feather and plopped down on the soft sheets. Bucky took a deep breath.

“Why did you break up?”

You lifted your head to roll your eyes at him. “Why is it important?”

“It’s important to me,” he said as he walked back into his dressing room, then came back with a pair of cufflinks. “Especially if he broke your heart.”

The idea of Bucky being angry at someone for breaking your heart was so absurd when he was the one who tore your heart out in the first place, but you chose not to comment on it.

“We just weren’t a good fit,” you said. “We were both idiots, to be honest.”

“You had him checked though?” Bucky asked, still busy with putting his cufflinks on and you shot him a glare.

“No Bucky, that was my first rodeo,” you deadpanned. “I just date civilians without making sure they can be trusted.”

“And now?”

“I had him checked when he moved into the city and first made contact with me,” you said. “He still can be trusted.”

“That’s where we disagree, Charm.”

“Have you trusted anyone in your life, Bucky?” you asked, exasperated. “Except Steve and Sam, that is.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“I trust you,” he pointed out, making your heart skip a beat and you stared at him for a couple of seconds, then forced out a scoff.

“Yet here you are, questioning me about that lunch and him in general?”

“That has more to do with him than you, you know that,” he replied and you leaned back on the pillows, Alpine jumping to curl up in your lap.

“Either way,” you muttered and stole a look at him as he got into his jacket. “We have dinner at 8 tonight with your mom and dad, don’t forget.”

Bucky threw his head back with a groan. “I still think we should skip that.”

“It’s the second time Winnifred asked,” you reminded him. “We’re going.”

“Fun,” he grumbled as he came closer to scratch at Alpine’s head, then pressed a kiss on top of your hair, making you bite back a smile. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Mm hm, try not to kill anyone until then.”

“I’ll try,” he said and walked out of the bedroom, making you heave a sigh as you looked down at Alpine who was purring.

“Dinner with George and Winnifred,” you muttered. “Yeah. Should be fun.”

It wasn’t that having dinner with George and Winnifred was something new for you. You had spent your entire childhood with Becca, not to mention your families had been close since you two were little, so tonight was supposed to be just relaxing.

In theory, that was.

Yet, a mere minute after stepping a foot into the house you realized that would not be the case. Bucky had texted you saying he would be a couple minutes late, and while the food was about to be ready, George was still in his office.

“You know how they get with business,” Winnifred told you as you sat next to Becca on the couch. “I’ll just check the kitchen, excuse me.”

“No problem,” you said as she walked away and you turned to Becca. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“Apparently my father and your father had a very long phone call,” Becca said without lifting her gaze from her phone, texting who you could only assume was Leila. “I have no idea why Bucky is late, but I know for a fact that daddy won’t like that.”

You bit inside your cheek, crossing your arms.

“Great,” you muttered. “I’m guessing Ian keeps dripping poison in my dad’s ear and now George is getting affected as well.”

Becca let out a small laugh.

“It’s not like daddy can do anything,” she murmured. “Bucky took over already.”

“No but he can make things quite difficult.”

“Bucky is used to that,” Becca said and you turned sideways to look at her better.

“So you didn’t bring Leila?” you asked as if trying to tease her and she scoffed.

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “I don’t want them to scare her off.”

“Give her some credit, will you?” you asked. “That car chase didn’t exactly scare her off.”

“If it came down to choosing between a car chase and my parents, I’d say the car chase is much safer,” she told you, making you bite down a grin.

“I get what you mean,” you said as Winnifred walked back into the living room again.

“The food is ready,” she said. “Come on, to the dining room.”

Becca threw her arm over your shoulder as you both followed her to the dining room and you were just about to take your seats when George walked into the room as well.

“Aw my dearest girls,” he said, first kissing Becca’s cheek and then yours. “I missed you two!”

“Hi George.”

“Hi daddy!” Becca gave him a bright smile and Winnifred motioned at the table.

“Sit down, sit down!” she said. “The chef spent the whole day working on this, I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will, I’m starving,” you said as you sat down and George looked around the room.

“And where’s Bucky?”

“He’s going to be a couple of minutes late,” you said. “He texted me just now.”

George stole a look at Winnifred, then shook his head.

“That boy needs to work on his time management skills,” he said, making you pull your brows together and Winnifred waved a hand in the air.

“He’s just busy with work,” she said. “It’s understandable.”

You shot them a smile.

“He’s just giving me the time to talk about him without him present,” you joked, making George chuckle.

“And how is married life, Y/N?”

“It’s wonderful,” you said airily. “I have nothing to complain, really. Which, you know how unlike me that sounds.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Winnifred said. “You and Bucky…You two were explosive around each other until very recently.”

“Thin line between love and hate,” Becca said with a grin before sipping her drink and Winnifred shook her head.

“Bucky never hated you Y/N, you know that.”

You made yourself busy with your food and took your fork to your mouth, nodding.

“I know,” you said after swallowing your bite. “We just had um…history, in a way.”

“And isn’t it wonderful how it worked out?” George said. “As I’ve told Bucky before—”

“Hi everyone,” Bucky’s voice cut him off as he walked into the room and came straight to kiss you on top of your head before taking his seat beside you. “Sorry I’m late, something came up.”

George heaved a sigh of displeasure as if he was trying to contain himself, and Bucky raised his brows at him but Winnifred cleared her throat.

“Oh not a problem sweetheart, we’ve just started.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said as a maid filled his glass and turned to Becca. “You didn’t bring Leila?”

“I asked the same thing,” you said with a small grin and Becca made a face.

“No thank you,” she said. “I’d rather it if you guys didn’t scare her off.”

“Well—”

“Perhaps it’s better that Becca is taking her time,” Winnifred said. “To make sure she can be trusted. She is a civilian after all.”

Bucky tried to hide his smirk as he sipped his drink.

“You haven’t even met the girl yet mom,” he reminded her. “It’s a bit early for you to not approve.”

“It’s not that I don’t approve!” Winnifred said. “It’s just…perhaps it’d be better if Becca were dating someone in business, that’s all I’m saying.”

You tried not to roll your eyes but Becca shot her a look, then turned to Bucky.

“See? Exactly why my girlfriend is not here.”

“Nah, I agree that it was the best idea for this time,” George said. “Considering tonight’s topic at least. Bucky, we need to talk.”

Bucky frowned slightly and you sat up straighter, your stomach doing an unpleasant flip.

“About what?” Bucky asked and George licked his lips.

“What is this I hear about you letting Y/N get involved in the business?” he asked. “Arthur called me, he’s worried out of his mind.”

“Nobody is ‘letting’ me do anything,” you said, trying your hardest to control the defensive tone in your voice. “If my father talked to you, you can just tell me, George.”

Bucky vibranium hand covered yours on the table and you felt a fluttering in your stomach before you turned your attention to George who shook his head.

“Y/N honey, I get that you want to be a part of it,” he said with the same condescending tone your father tended to adapt whenever he talked about you becoming a part of the business and Bucky’s jaw clenched as you narrowed your eyes. “But it’s not the best idea. Bucky agrees, I’m sure.”

“I don’t,” Bucky pointed out without missing a beat. “And watch your tone while you’re talking to my wife.”

The warmth spread over your cheeks. “It’s fine, Buck.”

“No it’s not.”

Winnifred cleared her throat. “Perhaps we could talk about it later on.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to work,” Becca muttered, leaning back to sip her drink and George put his fork down.

“Bucky,” he said like a warning. “It’s wonderful that you two are happy and in love, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to my business—”

“I think you mean my business,” Bucky deadpanned and a silence fell upon the table, nervousness filling your system. You rolled your shoulders back, trying to decide whether you should step in or not, but George beat you to it.

“I didn’t put you to the top just so that you can ruin the business, Bucky.”

Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped and Bucky let out a furious breath.

“You didn’t put me anywhere,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “I proved myself over and over.”

“Why don’t we all—”

“And where would you be without me?” George asked him and a furious breath left your lips.

“Alright, this is enough,” you said with a click of your tongue and stood up. “We’re leaving. Come on Buck.”

“Y/N—” Winnifred started as Bucky stood up, still holding your hand.

“See you later,” he told Becca and his mom, and you both walked out of the dining room and made your way through the foyer to step out of the house. He followed you to the car and you told the driver to drive you back to your place, then got in with Bucky.

Bucky didn’t speak a word all the way until you two got home, clearly lost in his own mind and you didn’t want to push him before he was ready. You picked up Alpine who rushed to greet you, then kissed her and put her down again. Bucky ran a hand over his face and flung himself on the couch in silence, biting inside his cheek while you filled two glasses of whiskey. You handed one to him and he took it, trying to offer you a small smile.

“Sorry about that,” he rasped out and you made a face.

“Your dad is an asshole, it has nothing to do with you,” you said. “It’s my therapist’s favorite topic to be honest with you, I could write a book about it.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah well…”

“Speaking of, we’re going to the couple’s therapy,” you told him, making his head snap up.

“What?” he asked. “Why?”

“So that we can make sure this type of situation isn’t going to happen when you marry your second wife and have heirs,” you told him and he heaved a sigh.

“Y/N…” he muttered and rubbed at his eyes again. “Fuck, my head is killing me.”

You pursed your lips, then kicked at his shoe slightly before walking to the window.

“Can you come here?” you asked and he shot you a look, but did as you asked.

“What are we doing?” he asked and you turned to him.

“Tell me what you see.”

He fixed his gaze on the skyline and shrugged his shoulders.

“The city,” he said and you shook your head.

“No,” you said. “What you’re seeing is the part of the city under your rule. Not George’s, not anyone else’s. Yours.”

He huffed out a tense chuckle. “Mm hm, the part he gave to me.”

“The part you took rightfully,” you corrected him. “No one would let you have it if they thought you didn’t have what it takes, Bucky. We’re not letting Ian take over because he’s not the right choice, do you seriously believe you’d be where you are if it was just George handing you things?”

That made him think for a moment as he swallowed thickly, still keeping his gaze on the skyline and you bumped his shoulder with yours.

“You’re frustratingly good at what you do,” you told him. “Which is going to be a problem when I take over my dad’s business and eventually will have to do business with you, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, it’s fine.”

That managed to coax a chuckle out of him and he turned to look at you better, that fond light playing in his bright blue eyes.

“Thanks Charm.”

Your heart skipped a happy beat and you smiled back at him, then cleared your throat.

“No problem,” you said and walked away from him to grab your phone off the kitchen island.

“I’m ordering pizza by the way,” you called out, your stomach still filled with butterflies for some reason. “We stormed out in style but I’m still hungry. Want some?”

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penguinbuttcheeks · 1 day

Text

Three's a Crowd - ghost x reader

summary: you’re the latest addition to the 141. price and gaz have each other, ghost and soap vice versa. you start to realise that you’ll never be able to gain the attention of your comrades - let alone your lieutenant - the way you so desperately crave.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

cw: angst, typical cod violence, character death, mw3 spoilers

word count: 2,318

A/N: feeling angsty so have this :D (FURTHER PROOFREADING IS NEEDED !!! but im eepy and impatient its 2am)

also i genuinely can't live without music, so i always end up adding a song that kinda reminds me of my fic. its not something that needs to be listened to - simply any song i find that kinda suits the vibe of the story and also just sharing some good music for others to enjoy !! idk, just something i enjoy doing (im rambling)

Being the latest addition to the TaskForce 141's ensemble had its downfalls.

While you were immensely grateful for the opportunity to have been recruited by John Price himself, there was still the lingering discomfort of trying to fit in with a new group.

It was childish really. Such a minuscule concern whilst in the midst of fighting a war.

It had been several months since you were enlisted, yet your relationship amongst the four members seemed to lag in comparison to the camaraderie they each shared between one another. Years of companionship amidst the terrors of combat had strengthened the bindings of their connections, forcing them to rely on one another when faced with life and death. It was something that you had yet to experience with them.

You know that these things take time - especially given that fact that it was so common to lose comrades in this field of work. Everyone was terrified of getting attached.

Over the coming days, the five of you had been preparing for an upcoming mission. It was crucial that everything panned out perfectly. Price wasn't leaving any room for fault, not when the safety of thousands were at stake. thousands of civilian lives. Men, women and children.

While Price and Gaz - with the assistance of Farah - had set out to Urzikstan to lead an infiltration on a Konni base they believed Makarov was operating at, you were assigned to Verdansk with Soap and Ghost.

The task; stop Konni from destroying the Gora dam.

The three of you were currently grouped at the meeting point, scoping the area before setting off to defuse the bombs scattered across the site. With the little numbers you had, you were going to have to rely on stealth. You hated stealth.

Stealth required trust. Trust in your comrades to complete their designated tasks without fault, trust in your comrades to stay alert.

You had none.

You were determined to change that succeeding this mission.

"Be advised, Konni personnel are grouping near multiple locations below you." Laswell's voice snaps you from your thoughts, her voice ringing through the comms.

Ghost and Soap look up at where you were perched. You were their sniper for this mission. They were relying on you to keep them covered and you were not going to let them down.

You raise your hand in the air, giving them a thumbs up to alert you were ready and in position. The two men send a curt nod in return before setting off to track down and defuse the explosives.

With Laswell over-watching the operation, and you giving the duo support from a higher vantage point, the low numbers were of little concern. The four of you knew that you would be able to carry out the mission smoothly. Besides,

Failure wasn't an option.

You watch as Ghost silently takes out several guards, advancing his way through the facility as he tries to locate the bombs.

"Bagged 'em" Laswell confirms another kill for Ghost.

“Two guards, on your three by the barrels” you alert Ghost, watching as he stealthily approaches the guards. “I’m lined up, I can get them in one”.

They’re on the ground before Ghost can even blink.

You grin as you peer through the scope of your sniper. This was going to be cake.

“Good to see you in one piece, Johnny” Ghost huffs, splayed on the floor of the heli alongside you and Soap.

“Haven’t felt better, LT.”

It was a scramble trying to meet with Nikolai and board the aircraft, lifting off amidst the enemy's gunfire. You ensured there were no men left standing by the time you all were long out of sight.

Price would be pleased.

“Yeah, I’m okay too. Thanks for asking” you huff out in annoyance, watching as Ghost lends Soap a hand, lifting him to his feet with a small grunt.

You get up by yourself, a simple side glance sent your way from Ghost before both the men turn to Nikolai. At least Soap had the decency to return a relieved smile.

“Mission accomplished, Bravo. You three took down an army and saved lives tonight” Laswell congratulates through the comms, her usual monotonous voice doing little to praise the successful operation that the three of you had completed. “Makarov will not take this well.”

“He’s a big boy,” you respond with an amused grin. “He can handle it.”

“Don’t underestimate the rage of the Russian’s” Nikolai chuckles back in response, looking back at you momentarily to ensure all three of you weren’t seriously injured.

“Speakin’ from experience, Nikolai?” You smirk back, walking over towards the front of the heli where both Ghost and Soap stand, your sniper left discarded on the metal floor of the military carrier.

“Firsthand” Nikolai simply snorts back.

The rest of the ride back is silent, Ghost and Soap sat beside each other, a singular empty seat distancing their proximity. You? You sit across from them, alone on the empty bench.

You don’t mean to let your guard down. You were simply exhausted and finally allowing yourself to stare aimlessly into space as the adrenaline in your system slowly drained from your veins.

“Don’t.”

The harsh voice has you crashing back to reality, eyes focusing in place to meet dark hazel ones, narrowed and directed at you. You hadn’t realised you were staring at Ghost while you silently decompressed. It was a rude startle from your meaningless thoughts.

“Sorry, I zoned out. My eyes were just comfortable” you respond awkwardly, adjusting your seating position and clearing your throat. “Didn’t realise I was staring”

Ghost simply glares back at you, his usual cold and emotionless stare making your hands clammy and stomach flutter. You quickly avert your gaze, turning your head away to stare at the metal tread plate flooring, instead focusing on the loud hum of the aircraft you were all seated in.

It suddenly grew too hot, too cramped in the helicopter. It was claustrophobic - suffocating almost.

You’re the first to scramble off the heli, exhaling in relief when you’re no longer boxed into the hunk of metal you had just spent the last hour travelling in. With your sniper draped loosely over your shoulder, you make your way inside the small safe house nestled on the outskirts of Verdansk. You don’t bother to wait for Soap and Ghost.

It’s late at night. Your body is near spent. Your only goal in mind was getting the heavy military gear off your body to finally allow yourself the comfort you crave.

It’s a small shack, only the bare minimum provided. An old, tattered couch and rickety square dining table with four chairs on each side, each varying in design and wood finishes. They evidently didn’t come as a set. There is a small room off to the side, various camping cots packed and stacked against the furthest wall, at our disposal for when we choose to retire for the night.

Ghost, Soap and Nikolai soon enter after you, Nikolai retreating into the small room to set up the cots and get some much needed rest.

You keep to yourself while Soap settles on the small couch, Ghost taking a seat at the dining table to clean and check over his equipment.

You hastily peel the stiff fabric from your body, vest and outerwear folded on the floor in the corner of the living room, your sniper. Resting atop of them. Your aching body can finally breathe now that the extra layers were finally discarded

“Ye did good today” Soap finally speaks up after a beat of tense silence. You turn to him in slight surprise, not expecting him to initiate any sort of conversation with you. “We’d have been fucked without ye” he continues, Scottish accent thick as ever.

You can’t help the small smile that creeps on to your face.

“You guys did the dirty work. I simply scoped the area from above” you assure modestly, not wanting to come across arrogant.

“Aye. Saved our asses several times. We owe you.”

Ghost simply scoffs quietly, standing to move outside where there would be less chatter. He was tired and didn’t want to indulge.

Your smile is wiped from your lips, replaced by a slight frown at Ghost’s exit. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the Scot.

“He’s a crabbit old man. Pay him no mind” Soap assures you, voice low and seemingly unaffected by the Lieutenant’s departure. “The lad’s not one for meaningless blether.”

You nod, evidently disappointed

Soap observes you silently, taking in your defeated expression, a low hum of acknowledgment absentmindedly leaving his tight lips.

"Ye like the Lieutenant" he voices aloud. There was no room for argument in his statement.

Your head darts to Soap in stunned horror, mouth parted in shock. You're unable to respond, Soap speaking up before you're able to form your words.

"Keen een."

You immediately shut your mouth. There was no point in arguing. He knew.

Soap chuckles, a bitter and amused sound that leaves you feeling uneasy.

"Foolhardy choice"

You watch as Soap leaves to the makeshift bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone with your thoughts and anxieties. You don't get much sleep that night.

Returning to the 141 base was a relief in itself.

Touching down on British soil allowed you to finally relax. You were finally familiar with your surroundings once again.

You sigh happily upon entering your private quarters, throwing your bag carelessly to the ground. A shower was in order. You waste no time in stripping down bare to prepare yourself for the best shower of your life.

When you emerge from the shower, hair still damp and leaving small patches of dampness along the fabric of your fresh shirt you immediately make your way to the rec room. Some caffeine was in order if you were going to set your sleep schedule back to its usual.

You inhale sharply when you see Ghost sat alone, immediately on edge.

He turns his attention to you momentarily before wordlessly resuming back to the reports in his hands.

Message received.

You quietly walk over to the coffee machine, pulling out a mug as you put the kettle on.

You keep your eyes trained on anything but Ghost, not wanting to anger him again. You can't help but lose yourself in your thoughts once again as you wait for the water to finish boiling.

It wasn't anything more than a physical attraction that you had towards the aloof man. You didn't know the slightest thing about him. You did know however, that he was loyal. Just from your observations alone - it was obvious just how passionate he was about the 141. He would lay his life down without a second thought to ensure a mission was successful, to ensure his teammates were safe.

All of his teammates, save for you.

He was a machine during training, a monster on the field. Rippling muscle and deadly speed, accuracy that rivals even Captain Price himself.

So many times you've caught yourself staring, admiring from the peripherals of your vision with your lip caught between your teeth. You felt like a lovesick teen in high school. It was absolutely infuriating.

"It won't make itself"

You jolt in alarm, head whipping towards the voice. Ghost simply stares at you, eyebrow raised. His skull mask was replaced by his usual black balaclava he wore around base, the prominent shape of his brow bones underneath the knit fabric the only giveaway of his expression. His thick thighs are spread lazily in front of him, large feet planted on the floor as he leans back against the dark leather couch, papers still in hand.

You quickly tear your eyes away from him once again.

"I know." You internally grimace at your response. Stupid. So stupid.

Ghost chuckles, still eyeing you as you stare dumbly down at the now finished boiling kettle and empty mug.

"You're an open book" he speaks up, shaking his head slightly in disapproval, lowering his eyes back down to his reports. "You need to keep your head in the game, sergeant. This is a war, not a dating reality."

You glimpse over at him from the corner of your eye, fighting down the heat that tries to spread across your face.

"I'm well aware of that" you respond sternly, hastily making your coffee.

Fucking. Soap.

"Start acting like it, soldier"

You swiftly leave, coffee rushed and head lowered in shame. You didn't bother drinking the sloppy coffee, instead tipping it down the bathroom sink and watching as it swirls down the drain.

Makarov was defeated - the 141 finally accomplishing what they had chased like hell hounds for months - finally at its end.

Ghost stares down at your lifeless eyes.

What should have been Soap’s life was instead replaced with your own.

It was a selfless act of bravery.

No one was fast enough to respond. One minute you were here, yelling out to Soap in alarm, the next you were motionless. An instant death after Makarov lodged his final bullet in your skull.

Ghost knows that he should feel something - anything for the life lost. His teammate stolen from life too soon, but he can't find it in himself to care.

Price places a large hand on Ghost's shoulder, pulling him away from the scene.

The Taskforce retreats. They would send reinforcements to retrieve your body, to be able to send something back to your loved ones waiting anxiously on your return.

It was a shame really. The potential you had was evident, destined to continue fighting for your country alongside Ghost, Price and Gaz.

Ghost turns on his heel, following after his comrades and boarding the heli, your empty seat bringing a deep sense of impending doom, the reality finally setting in for the four men.

Ghost scoffs, shaking his head.

Three was always a crowd

143 notes · View notes

lacontroller1991 · 7 hours

Text

Rumors (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Summary: After you believed he was dead, it comes as a shock to you that he's alive and wrecking havoc.

Warnings: 18+, HEAVY LANGUAGE, drug usage, drinking, mention of cannibalism, violence, gun slinging, blood, nudity, fighting

Author's Note: I swear I'll work on my other requests but the Cooper Howard brain rot is REAL and its STRONG, anywho, first time so let me know how you guys like it :)

Word Count: 3k

--------------------------------

In the wastelands of California, rumors get you killed and you’ve heard rumors. Whispers of his return. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. Since he left you on your own in the middle of a gun fight to collect his bounty; and it nearly cost you your life.

The last you’ve heard about him was that he was 6 feet deep and locked in a coffin with no way of escaping, unless someone purposely dug him out. Yet, you can’t think of a single person who would. Still, rumors spread like wildfire, and you’d be damned if you don’t try and get revenge.

-----------

The California sun beats down on your back. The heat weighs you down, but not as much as the pain in your chest. He let you believe that he cared about you. He really fooled you into a sense of partnership, romance, but you really should’ve known. Cooper Howard is a lone wolf, nothing and nobody will stand in his way.

The site of Filly in the distance is a welcoming sight. If anyone has seen anything, it would have been here. It doesn’t take you long to cross the remaining distance, sweat dripping down your back as you enter the market.

“Haven’t seen ya in a while (Y/N).” A local merchant snides with a creepy smile, showcasing his rotten teeth. Walking over to your side, he runs a hand down your arm and you resist the urge to gag. “What are ye in town for?”

“Information.” You eye the stairs that are being fixed, along with other wooden structures, a signature sign that he’s been here.

“Looking for your Ghoul, huh?” His face is offly close to yours and it’s enough for you to draw your gun, casually pressing it into his side, causing him to instantly back off. “He was here two days ago. Got in a firefight with a knight, seemed like he was after a bounty.” You scoff. Of course he is. Anything for those damn vials. Vials. At the thought of vials a malicious smile forms on your face. Sooner or later, he will need to get more, and you’ll be there when he does.

Holstering your gun, you flip him a bottle cap in appreciation before stalking off, heading to the one place you know he will be.

By the time the sun sets, you’re settled in an abandoned building, low enough to the ground where you can see what’s coming, but high enough to be out of any immediate danger. Wrapping your arms around yourself tighter, you can’t help but to think about the times where you and him would be shoulder to shoulder, barely touching, but enough to make butterflies fly in your stomach.

Despite his ghoulish appearance, you find him to be quite handsome. His rugged cowboy exterior does barely enough to hide the last shred of humanity he has, and at times, it was directed towards you. With a sigh, you let your eyes shut, sleep easily consuming over you.

-----------

“Please, let me go.” A feminine voice stirs you from your unconsciousness as your eyes blink against the harsh light of the sun. “Please, sir, I’m begging you.” Shuffling slightly, you peer your head past the concrete wall, spotting two figures, one in a blue/yellow vault-tec suit and the other in a cowboy hat with a lasso around the girl.

“Well I’d be damned,” it’s hushed and to yourself, afraid of him hearing you and spotting you.

“I done told you vaultie, ain’t gonna happen. You deaf or sum?” His drawl sends chills down your spine as he nudges her forward with the tip of his gun. “Now hur-” his words are cut off by a coughing fit but his grip on the lasso remains. After regaining his breath, he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Hurry up. I ain’t got all day.” You watch in silence as the pair walks past your hideout, unaware of your existence. Grabbing your things, you rush off after them, making sure to stay in the shadows as your brain goes through different scenarios of what could happen. Would you and Cooper make up? Would he try to kill you? Would you try to kill him? Does he even care? The closer they get to the supermart, the more you hang back, hand slightly hovering over your gun.

Trying to listen to the conversation, you strain your ears but to no avail. Peeking over an abandoned car, you focus your eyes on the situation ahead of you, watching as he gestures for the girl to go through the sliding glass door. The minute they shut, he collapses on the ground and you resist the urge to go and help him. Sighing, you open the bag at your side, rummaging through a variety of equipment before your fingers run over the cool glass of the vials that keep him sane. “That’s just ironic,” you chuckle, looking back to him still laying on the ground, a slight tang of pity radiating through your chest. If there’s anything you hate about yourself, it’s that. You’re too soft for people who have no problem leaving you out to dry.

You could confront him now, kick him while he’s down, but being dramatic is more fun. It’s useless trying to talk to him when he’s in that sorry state.

An hour later and you’re still outside, covering from the sun and waiting for the right moment to make your appearance. The sight of the vaultie walking alone gathers your attention as you keep out of sight? Now how the hell did she manage to escape? You’re not an idiot, everyone and their mamas know that the SuperDuper Mart takes in bodies and harvests the organs, selling them to the highest bidder. So how on this God forsaken planet did she escape practically unscathed? As she walks further away you ponder the possibility that maybe you and everyone on the surface has really underestimated the ones who live below.

Once she is out of sight, you rush out from your hiding spot and toward the mart, hoping to find him. “Well, he isn’t where I saw him last,” you huff out, drawing your gun from its holster as you walk through the glass door, keeping your eyes vigilant. With the mart being practically empty aside from overturned themed rides, it’s easy to hear a person stumbling around, knocking stuff over.

By the time you spot him, his back is to you, head tipped slightly back as he downs a bottle of alcohol he found. The sound of you cocking your gun causes him to freeze in place, and if you were facing him, you would spot the smile on his face.

“You ain’t gonna shoot me now, are ya?” Your silence is deafening and you don’t move an inch, not really sure if you would actually shoot him or not. “Was wonderin’ when you were gonna find me.”

“It’s pretty easy to find a drug addicted ghoul these days, especially ones that have a penchant for the dramatics.” You keep your gun trained on his back as he slowly turns around, dropping the glass bottle and letting it shatter to the floor.

“Me? Dramatic? I don’t think I’m the dramatic one sweetheart. You’re the one who came in here, guns blazing. I think you’re the dramatic one.” He takes a step forward, and another, and another, until his chest is pressed right against the nozzle of your gun. “Now why don’t you put your gun down and give Coop a big ki-” your gun whacks across his face, tearing the flesh slightly only for it to heal right away, causing him to growl. His gloved hand reaches up and wraps around your throat, hoisting you against the wall while you struggle in his grasp. “That’s no way to greet me. Where are your manners?” He asks, his southern accent penetrating each word.

“Fucker,” raising a leg, you kick between his with all you can muster and spit on his face, the shock being enough to let you loose and allowing you to slip out.

He looks at you for a second before laughing sadistically, using his thumb to collect your spit and put it in his mouth, closing his eyes as if he was savoring it. “I missed you kitten.”

Scoffing, you holster your gun and take a seat on the couch, turning your attention to the tv where you spot a young, handsome, human Cooper Howard on the screen. “Really Coop? You’re that full of yourself?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he plops down next to you before taking another bottle and giving that a swig. “Was the only half decent shit in this hell hole,” at the mention of the place, you take a proper look around, bodies laying everywhere, some human, some ghoul, and even a robot.

“The fuck happened here?”

“Was traveling with a vault dweller, traded her for some vials but I guess she didn’t take too well to the idea of her organs being sold,” he comments nonchalantly, twisting off the cap of a vial and draining the liquid into his mouth while you look at him like he grew two heads.

“You’re meaning to tell me that that vault dweller managed to do all this?”

“Did I stutter?” Now you know you really underestimated the people in the vaults. You honestly wonder if they’re all like this or is she just some random four leaf clover. “Why’d you come in here raisin hell anyway?”

Leaning back on the couch, you look forward to the tv, trying to concentrate on the handsome man on the screen instead of the one sitting next to you, “heard you were dead.”

“The details of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Still doesn’t answer my question,” he looks at you with a look that says ‘I frankly don’t give a shit’ but something deep down inside of you tells you that he does.

“I’m pissed as hell that you left me. I thought we were partners?” Rolling his eyes, he laps at a random white powder laying on the table before leaning back.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. Didn’t see a need to stick around. You got what you wanted and I got what I wanted. Seemed like a fair trade.”

A sigh escapes your mouth as you take the bottle from his one hand and downed it, scrunching your nose as the alcohol burns down your throat and lights a fire in your stomach. How can he be so naive? You had initially joined him when you were both after the same group of people, but for vastly different reasons. He had wanted the large bounty on the head of the leader and you wanted to find your past lover, but somewhere along the route to finding them you developed feelings for the Ghoul sitting next to you, and you thought he developed them too. You initially didn’t spot him when the shooting started, too occupied with the Ghoul pressing his back against yours, the two of you working in tandem. Everything happened so fast and before you knew it, you were the only one shooting back at the group of people, most of them lying dead and your companion nowhere to be seen. The bounty was also gone.

He had left you on your own and it hurt. It also didn’t help that once the shooting was over and you remained, you found your former lover in the arms of another. It’s true that you found who you wanted, but at what cost? Was it really your lover than you wanted or was it Cooper Howard, the Ghoul, who you wanted?

Realistically, you know the answer. It’s pretty obvious by the way that when you heard he was alive, you practically dropped everything in pursuit of him. Taking another swig of the alcohol you ponder over your next course of actions. Should you admit your feelings for him or should you leave it? Looking back at the tv, you watch the former Cooper Howard get down from his horse, gun in hand and hat tipped ever so slightly over his eyes, much like how the man next to you does. He’s never going to be the same man again, you know that, but maybe he still has the ability to love? “I love you, you know?”

Cooper looks over to you with a puzzled look on his face before it goes blank and your heart sinks. If there was any sort of superpower you could have right now, it would 100% be mind reading. “You’re stupid.”

“Right. Yep. Totally.” You’re pissed. You took a gamble and lost. Laid your heart on the line only for it to be destroyed. Swallowing down your pride, you get up from your seat and holster your gun, taking a couple of vials for safe keeping. “Have a good life Coop.” You don’t bother turning back, tears welling in your eyes. How could you have been so stupid? Of course he doesn’t return the feeling. You kick the dead body out of your way, too overwhelmed with your emotions to realize that he is calling your name. A hand wrapping around your wrist stirs you from your thoughts as he hand spins you around to face him, a soft look gracing his features.

“I ain’t finished,” it’s soft. Softer than anything you’ve ever heard from him but you yank your hand away, rebuilding the walls around your heart.

“I don’t wanna he-” he cuts you off with a rough kiss against your lips, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you close as his scarred lips move against yours. The kiss is rough, demanding, but also loving, intimate. It’s enough to make you dizzy. Pulling away, he keeps you in his grasp as you look up at him through blown eyes, trying to figure out what he’s playing at. “Coop?”

“Shh darlin’. You didn’t let me finish. I said you’re stupid. Stupid for loving someone like me. I’m no good for anyone, especially you, you should know this.” You can tell by the restraint in his voice that he fully means what he’s telling you. Smiling softly, you dust off his duster and pull on his vest, straightening out his clothes as he watches you, not really sure what to make of your intentions.

“Y’know, there was this one cowboy I met years ago and when I asked how he survived as long as he has and you know what he told me?”

“What’s that?”

“We take it as it comes.” He closes the bridge between the two of you with his mouth against yours, this time it’s more eager. Taking in your bottom lip, he bites hard enough to draw blood, causing you to gasp in surprise. Using that to his advantage, his tongue slips in, exploring every crevice of the mouth that he’s longed for.

“Well ain’t this sweet. We have a ghoul and a ghoulfucker. I wonder what that sex looks like,” you and Cooper pull away abruptly, you eye the three men in sheriff uniforms while Cooper scowls, annoyed by their presence. Moving towards them, Cooper raises his hands in false surrender while you get behind his back, one hand reaching for his shotgun and the other reaching for your own gun, ready to draw at any moment.

“What can I do for you folks?” The three men eye each other before pointing their guns at Cooper, you still standing behind him, ready to take on each of them.

“Destroying a legitimate business? That’s illegal around these parts,” one speaks up, aviators covering his eyes as he moves around to get a better view of you. “My my, don’t tell me this pretty little thing did all this damage. Why don’t you raise your hands sweetheart, let’s see that gorgeous figure.”

If looks could kill, that man would be 12 feet under and blasted to high heaven with the biggest nuke Cooper could find. “I’d be careful if I were you, she may be pretty, but she's also a pint sized atom bomb.” His head tilts, telling you all that you needed to know. Reaching for your gun, you quickly shoot the two companions as Cooper lunges for the man who dared to flirt with you. Kicking the gun away from reach, Cooper wraps his hand around the throat of the sheriff and hoists him in the air while you loot their supplies. Turning the men around, you cut their pants off, leaving their backside exposed for Cooper to take his fair share of ass jerky. The man in his grasp squirms at the site of his counterparts being exposed, but Cooper’s grip doesn’t falter.

“Why are you sick freaks doing this?” The man continues to struggle in Cooper’s grasp, hands trying to claw away at skin but to no avail as you load your gun, sliding over to the duo.

“Wanna do the honors sweetheart?” It’s rare that Cooper offers anybody anything, let alone a kill and it takes you a minute to process his proposal.

“We do this for the love of the game.” A gunshot rings out while the man goes limp in Cooper’s hand, brains splattered on the floor below you. Dropping the man, Cooper’s eyes flit to your body, chest rising and falling as you come off the adrenaline high.

“Now that was hot as hell sweetheart. You sure know how to make an impression on an old man.”

“Is that right?”

“‘m afraid so.” His eyes watch as you begin to unbuckle your armor, letting it fall from your frame to the floor.

“Then come and get me cowboy.”

@reveluving

#Cooper howard #Cooper howard x reader #Cooper howard x you #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #walton goggins #fallout tv series #fallout #fallout amazon #Cooper howard/the ghoul #Lucy mclean #reader insert #female reader #lacontroller1991 #not sure how this is so please let me know!

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hawkinsquarry · 2 days

Text

all things must pass (steve x reader)

summary: steve makes you leave him at the end of the world.

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; no pronouns used for reader; post-st4; unresolved angst; probably too much swearing :/

i miss this guy and i’m feeling insane over him so have some angst with an ambiguous ending 🫶🏻

Steve’s feet feel particularly heavy when we steps across your foyer. And the packet he has in his hands feels even heavier. He brushes off a few specs of ashes before slamming them down on the table in front of you, lazily eating cereal.

“What the hell is this?” you ask after a moment, grabbing the ledger on top. You know immediately it’s an airline ticket. It makes you feel sick and you push your Cheerios away as your eyes scan the details.

FROM-TO

IND > LA

You want to fucking kill him but you don’t have a chance as he breezes past, grabbing your suitcase out of your walk in closet.

“You depart in twelve hours,” he starts. He recited it in his head the entire way over to make the conversation easier, but the words are hard to get out. “Only take your essentials. When you’re there, a chauffeur will pick you up and take you to the - the - the location.”

“Steve, I’m not fucking going -“

“Yes, you are.” He says sternly. Like you’re a child.

“I’m not going anywhere without you!”

And he know this was coming - this cyclical argument you’ve been having for the last three weeks, your tears, the lump in his throat, uncertainly fogging both of your vision. But it doesn’t make it any easier, any less frustrating.

He says your name low and quiet. A plea. “This is safe. This is where the - the - the people I know told me to send you. That it’s the safest place.”

“And we’re trusting those people now?”

“No. W-well, yes! It - it’s - just - trust me, not them. Okay?” He settles your suitcase on the couch and starts moving around your living room for things he knows you’ll need. A blanket. Medicine. “Anywhere away from here is better, anyway.”

“So you admit it isn’t safe?”

Steve sniffles. “I never said it was.”

You follow him to your bedroom where he begins ripping clothes from your closet. He doesn’t miss the hoodie he leant you a few months ago. It’s laid on top of your suitcase with more shirts and pants.

You grab his arm and try to force it to fall back to his side, but he’s too strong, god damn him. “Steve, quit!” you beg, digging your heels into the ground and tugging on him. “I’m not leaving, Steve. I’m not going unless you go with me.”

“We talked about this.”

As nauseam, in fact. Until the ache in Steve’s throat was excruciating. Until your voice was hoarse and you were heaving. He’s not leaving, and you are.

You tug on him again. “I’ll keep talking about it until you listen to me!”

He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps moving back and forth between your closet and the suitcase. You cry, as hard as you try not to. You really are like a petulant child, stomping your foot, throwing a tantrum. You feel like it’s the only way he’ll listen, but you know the reality is that he still won’t.

“What about me?” you cry. You’re so angry at him, want to say something that’ll make him hurt. That’ll change the expression on his stoic face. You find it in you to refrain. “What about us, Steve?”

Keeps packing. Head down. Jaw clenched tight. He was ready for this fight when he walked in.

“Steve, let the goddamn military handle it. Do - do you honestly think you’re going to save the world?”

“No,” he snaps.

“Then what?”

He doesn’t answer because you already know why. Because he can’t leave Dustin, and Dustin can’t leave El, because apparently she can save the world. And Robin won’t leave Steve who won’t leave Dustin who won’t leave El. And Nancy fucking Wheeler won’t leave Mike who won’t leave El.

It makes you feel insane. Your blood boils and spills over, and over, and over, and it never just depletes. You keep going, keep arguing, trying to talk him out of it until your voice is hoarse. It’s hoarse now, in fact. Last night Steve held you until you shut up, until you cried yourself to sleep, and you had no idea he had already got you a plane ticket out of here. You feel so betrayed it makes your stomach twist and chest ache.

“I can’t live without you,” you try. It’s the third time you’ve pulled this and it seems to get him the most. “Steve, I don’t know what I’d do if - if….”

Steve bites his cheek, stilling, his hands clutching one of your sweaters.

“Why don’t you care?” you push.

He sniffles again, pinches his nose. You’d prefer it if he’d just let himself cry. He’d give in, then, if he let his emotions take over.

“Don’t you love me?”

“Jesus, yes,” he grits, finally looking at you. His eyes are red. “Why do you think I’m makin’ you leave, huh? Why do you think I’m staying?”

“Because you think you’re something you’re not!”

He runs a big hand through his hair so harshly you fear it’ll get tugged out. He walks towards you, holding his arms out, murmuring, “honey,” and as much as it pains you, you back away.

“Don’t,” you say sharply. Your throat aches. “Don’t do that, Steve.”

“I love you.” He sounds exhausted. “I love you, please believe me.”

“If you love me, then come with me.”

“There won’t be a world for us to live in unless we stop this.”

“You aren’t going to save the world.” You’re so desperate for him to listen to you. “The chances are so slim, Steve. Why can’t we love each other while we have time?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I won’t let you die without doing something about it first.”

You stare at each other. It’s suddenly dawning on you that nothing you’ll do will ever change his mind. That his chances of living through the next few days are slim. That this is the last time you’ll get to see him. While he’s packing for you and forcing you to take a plane to California.

There’s nothing romantic about it. It’s not like what you’ve seen in the movies you rented from Family Video when Steve had a shift. Before he was yours. When you went because the forest green vest looked so good on him, and he always had some goofy recommendation, and he let his hands touch yours when giving you your change for a moment too long.

You’ve hardly even had him.

“So that’s it?” You can hardly hear yourself.

“I’m doing this for you. I’m doing everything for you. And - and i-if it works, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear, angel.”

You shake your head, hot tears making their way down your jaw. “No.”

He stills. Looks a little like a deer in headlights. Caught off guard, shocked. Mouth parting slightly before closing again, like he wants to argue but can’t.

What is there to say?

“If you make me get on that plane, Steve….” You shake your head again, swallowing the ache in your throat down.

You stare at each other again. His eyes are one of your favorite things about him. Those saccharine, chestnut and moss colored irises. They scrunch up when he laughs. You used to think about leaving Hawkins and moving somewhere nice, so far away from all of this that Steve grows up to have crows feet around his eyes. That you’d be the one who put them there. And this is the last time you’ll see them.

“You have to go,” he eventually sniffles.

“Please,” you try, for the final time.

He blinks slowly, frowning, chest rising and falling slowly. “I love you,” he whispers. “Please believe me.”

You’re not sure if you can.

#steve harrington x reader #han posts #steve x reader

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cherryblossom-enthusiast · 3 days

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Retribution (The Kidxf!Reader) - Monkey Man

A/N: I said I was writing it and it has been done lol If you haven’t watched this film yet, please do! I indulged and wrote a small fic about it lol (Don't mind the abyssmal pacing of this, I barely edited and added anything) I hope you all enjoy it and can someone please indulge me more by writing more fics about this man!? Dev Patel absolutely killed it! Put him in a rom-com! I tried to write the hijra with as much care as possible. Please let me know if there’s something I can be more educated on in terms of this!

Synopsis: A mysterious man arrives at the temple you call home and makes quite an impression.

Warnings/ Tags: Angst. Fluff. Allusions to sex work. Descriptions of violence and blood. Coarse language. Kissing.

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

The cheers of those around you interrupt the hanging of your laundry.

Peeking through the shoulders and the shadows, you sneak a glance at the subject of commotion, and it doesn’t surprise you.

The way he moves is equal parts graceful and aggressive. His punches are meticulously messy, a choreographed war drum thrumming to the beat of his own heart. This man is far removed from who you remember gazing upon a few days ago. His eyes were lost, sunken, like a child looking for guidance or divine judgement for all that’s led him to this point.

This was not that man.

This man was vengeance personified.

And through him, you felt hope.

You knew nothing about him. Alpha was able to garner all of your help, quietly and quickly instructing to pull the man out of the river. You were there when they cauterized his wounds. His screams were pure agony, making you cringe, and somehow you felt that his pain went deeper than physicality.

He walked like a ghost when he first came, aimlessly walking, like trying to just bump into something that would give him an answer.

Now, it seems he walks with purpose.

He throws his last punch and receives a mighty applause. The crowd recognizes the show’s over for the time being and they disperse as he keeps heaving, staring at the bag like he wants to hit it more. Like he never wants to stop.

You pick up a basket and walk over to him. Whether to strike up a proper conversation or feeling annoyed at the dirtied shirt on the ground you had just washed, you don’t exactly know. But something about him is magnetic, pulling you in, just like the first time you saw him that night, all bloody and bruised.

You nod at his white shirt. “I’ll take that.”

He breaks from his spell and turns to look at you.

His heaving slows, his breaths getting deeper by the second. For what you think is a few minutes, he just stares are you, and you at him, both of you taking each other in. You realize his physique really is something to awe over, but more importantly, that his eyes are far gentler than what you thought possible.

You tilt your head. “The shirt?”

He bends and picks up the white cloth, simply extending it to you as he continues to stare. You gesture for him to drop it into the basket. With an amused scoff, you start to turn away. “I’d appreciate it if you hung the next shirt you tore off on a wall.”

“Your name?”

His voice surprises you. You’ve only heard him speak a few times before. He sounds rough, and scratchy, like he doesn’t use his voice often.

You introduce yourself and after a few moments, he repeats your name back to you. Slowly, quietly, as if he’s scared of offending you in any way. Listening to it fall from his lips is like listening to dripping honey and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make heat crawl up your neck.

To save face, you again start to walk away from him. “Widen your stance.” You advise, not waiting to hear a reply.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Several days pass until you have another full conversation.

You’re caught up with mundane chores. He’s caught up with punching that bag and doing god knows what else when he’s not at the temple.

Though there was that one time you almost slip and he catches you effortlessly by the waist and it definitely made your stomach flutter.

You smile the first time you depart to wash laundry and see his shirt hanging over a nearby wall.

He’s getting better. His posture looks strong, immovable. Sometimes you think with all that’s happened to him, that he must be invincible. Surely, no one can lose that much blood and still maintain their sanity.

But then you see his movements wain by the end of his exercise and it’s like something powerful overcomes him as he loses all finesse and he punches that rice-filled bag for all its worth with no rhyme or reason. You sense his frustration as he suddenly stops and puts his hand on his hips, breathing erratically.

You approach him cautiously. Pulling out a bottle of water from your laundry basket, you offer it to him. “Consider taking a break?”

He’s slow to take the bottle from you but he does so anyway. After almost draining the whole thing, he splashes the rest of the water over his head. Only as he shakes the droplets off his curly locks does he try to return it to you.

“An actual break.” You reiterate, stuffing the bottle of water back into your basket. “Your drummer needs one too. He might have built up his callouses, but he should eat something.”

The man turns to look where your eyes are directed and though you don’t have a clear view of his face, you can tell from the way that his eyebrows ease that he feels a sense of guilt. The drummer simply raises his palm and stands. “Take some time to clear your head, I’ll be here whenever you have.” He leaves the courtyard until it’s just the two of you left.

The weather is oddly cool today. There’s smoke and a mugginess that’s expected from being close to the heart of the city, but if you were to look around, it’d almost seem like you were transported decades into the past. The temple acts like a sanctuary, shielding you all from the outside world’s noise and it does a good job.

You walk towards a small wooden bench off to the far side and take a seat. You set your basket down and pat the space next to you. “Come,” You beckon “I’d appreciate some company while I fold all of these white shirts I’ve had to add to my load.”’

Something like embarrassment flashes on his face as he follows your command and sits right next to you. His posture is stiff like he wants to make an impression. It’s obvious your newfound companion doesn’t like to talk, or more accurately, isn’t very good at starting small conversation.

“I’m sorry for the bother.”

He has a tone of bashfulness, unable to turn in your direction. Your smile widens as you continue to fold “I didn’t say it was bothersome.” You refute. “In fact, I’d rather say I don’t mind you taking your shirt off.”

You try to make direct eye contact then, but he swallows thickly and doesn’t meet your eyes. It makes you giggle, but you decide to pull back on the joke, not wanting him to take offence or cause him more uneasiness. “Besides, each shirt is a testament to how much work you’ve put into bettering your skills here.”

That gets him to scoff and drop his head in disbelief “I’m still not where I need to be.”

“No,” you reply earnestly “but you will be.”

This earns you another bout of silence.

For a while, you both just enjoy each other’s quiet company. He stares blankly ahead and you give him the time to examine whatever it is he’s battling through in his own thoughts.

Eventually, he sighs and inclines his head towards the sky. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ever since I could remember.” You answer honestly. “Alpha says they opened the door and there I was, miraculously alive, left laying on a dirty blanket.”

“You’ve been here ever since?” He carefully asks.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else if that’s what you’re asking.” You pass an unfolded shirt to him and to your surprise he starts to fold it with no question. Bitter memories start to glaze your view. “And for someone as uneducated as me, there’s only a few jobs out there that I’d be considered for as a woman.”

A knowing silence passes through you both at the statement. Yatana was unforgiving. A real dog-eat-dog society with no time or need for those who couldn’t stomach it or keep up. Truth be told, most of the time you couldn’t. Very often would a prostitute or child be pounding on your doors for help or asylum. Hungry, beaten, thrown away like a speck of dust not worth anyone’s time.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?”

You’re unphased by the question. “Of course it does.”

And you mean it. There are days when you scream at the sky or dunk your head slightly longer underwater to try and get away from it all, try to release it in some way.

Eyes still trained to the sky; he confesses “Because that’s all I feel. Anger and pain, and I can’t-“ he struggles to finish his words. “I can’t-‘

“I know.”

That makes him look back down and finally turn in your direction. He patiently expects you to explain.

You swallow thickly but continue to talk anyway. “To feel helpless, like you can’t do anything no matter how hard you try.” Gritting your teeth, you realize your hands have stopped folding. “But it doesn’t matter, because there are people who need me more strongly than the pain I feel.”

He considers your words thoughtfully and waits for you to speak once more. “Amidst all this chaos, this temple stands. People need me here. Children, mothers, the beautiful hijra who gave me a home, and when they leave this place with the tiniest glimpse of hope on their faces, then I know I’ve done my job. I don’t fight as well as the hijra here, I don’t expect to get much better, but I want them to know that they have refuge with me.”

You pass him an unfolded sari and for the rest of the time you are sitting together, you both fold quietly, basking in the sun and each other’s presence.

He continues to train harder after that. Each step is quick, each punch as sharp as a bullet. When he isn’t training, he’s watching. The news, the protests, the speeches, like he’s reassuring himself, learning the best way to approach.

It’s obvious everyone here, including you is taken with this stranger. Though, you don’t really know if you could even call him that anymore.

It’s like he seeks you out. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply sitting together for dinner or him deliberately waiting for you to walk through the courtyard with your basket under your arm. Both of your eyes are trained on each other with an eager sheen.

Maybe it’s fear or maybe it's an understanding that your pairing would most likely never work out in the end. Either way, whatever it is, it disappoints you because you so badly want to believe he wants you the same way.

The mood becomes slightly flirtatious and you catch sight of a boyish grin here or there, especially when he’s surrounded by the hijra.

But anytime you think he might ask you something, or just when you’re on the cusp of telling him your interest, something stops you in your tracks, holding you back.

A recollection plays in your head of last night.

It’s just him and the drummer again today. You wait near a dark window before you pass so as to not to disturb his concentration.

He has a beat to the way he fights, a brutal rhythm, and it astounds you every time you watch him. If this is how he looks punching a bag, you wonder how he’d look fighting against others. You find the thought oddly attractive, and it makes you flush.

For all his skill in the ring, it seems that’s where all his artistry in footwork stops. Surrounded by laughing and beaming faces, with the sound of softer drumming in the air, everyone takes a turn dancing. No one cared about how sloppy anyone was. You sure weren’t the best dancer amongst the hijras, but this seemed unsubstantial when you were all drunk on each other’s company.

The children present that evening and you form a small circle. You’re swinging your arms around when you notice your mystery man with a smile of his own. It knocks the air out of your lungs. It’s one that gives him crinkles around his eyes and all at once he doesn’t look like a hardened killer, but someone you’d see on a billboard or a magazine cover.

You crook your finger at him, inviting him into your little dance number. He tries to politely decline, his once beaming face turning something sheepish, but Alpha bumps him shoulder to shoulder, and soon the rest of them urge and tease him to dance along. When he gets to the center begrudgingly, it’s already too late for him to back out. Two children start to pull him until he lands directly opposite of you.

The circle of your intertwined hands spins, it twirls here and there, and when you all raise your hands to shrink the circle, you land face-to-face with the most fascinating man you’ve ever seen. It lasts all of five seconds, but everything around you dims as you look at this man’s face illuminated by firelight.

His eyes are his most emotive feature and they always seem to twinkle. Right then, they almost looked like jewels from the way they glossed over.

You pick up on the way those eyes slowly dipped down towards your lips and suddenly you wonder if he’s thinking about the same things you are. If he really does want you the same way you do.

But before you can tumble into that path of thought, cheers and hoots pull you out of the little bubble of enchantment you’d created. You turn to reject the idea of it all, but when you glance back at the man in front of you, your breath catches.

He continues to stare intently at your visage, not minding or caring about the extra attention one bit.

And then a scream erupts in your ears.

Seeing him punch the bag until rice grains stick to his chest reminds you of what he’s capable of.

When he shares a nod with the drummer, you know that he’s finally achieved what he came here at the temple to do.

Dropping your basket, you immediately rush indoors, following the cries of the hijra around you. Lakshmi lays in the center of the temple room floor, blood dripping from them like a fountain. You crouch and gently put their head on your knees as the weeps continue all around you.

They explain that they put a notice on the door, Shakti’s men, and all you can see is an unbridled tint of red starting to form. Your heart is pounding, Lakshmi is struggling to fight for air, and in front of this statue, an indescribable wave of pain crashes into you.

It’s loud, far too loud. With your thoughts, the cries, the blood staining your shirt.

Your one hand on the floor clenches into a fist. You try to remind yourself that you can be better, that there must be something more to all of this than just pray, than to just keep taking what they serve like impotent little ants. The hopelessness starts to creep in, slowly etching itself into your thoughts.

But before it can take hold, you distinguish a face in the shadows. It’s observing as everything around you starts to crumble and in that moment you try to push all that anger onto him as you directly glare into his soul.

And when you see him break open the donation box much later during the humid night, you know you’ve put your faith into the right person.

He tries to leave as silently as he came, but you meet him at the entrance. He holds a crude, dirty children’s bag and you can only assume that’s where he’s keeping the money.

He tries to explain, but you start to approach him which stops his needless rambling. In an act of boldness, you grab his hand in yours and flip it to look clearly at his scars. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Alpha was right.” You agree. “You do have the hands of a warrior”

You enclose his hand between yours, putting it up against your lips. “I wonder how such gentle hands fight with such ferocity.”

He starts to twitch and as you loosen your grip, expecting him to pull back, he instead cups the side of your face and despite his scarred calloused hands, his touch is pure velvet. His thumb brushes the tears you didn’t notice were starting to fall freely down your cheek.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

“Fight for me.” You croak thickly. “Fight for all of us.”

He clenches his jaw. “I promise you.”

You pull him towards you by grasping his neck and your lips meet in the middle. The kiss is like him. Equal parts sweet as it is harsh. His lips were warm and soft, but the urgency in the way you both kissed each other was anything but. You bury your hand into his hair and feel his curls unmake themselves even further. His smell of soap and sage infiltrates your senses.

It was a dizzying feeling. It’s what you felt while you were dancing exploded ten-fold. It was the culmination of tension and grief exploding into something technicolour. As your noses bump against each other, you think you want to draw more of this kindness from this man.

Your breathing quickens and he groans into your mouth. It’s almost like you two are fighting. With each other, against each other, for each other. Exploring this hungry need has only made you more insatiable.

And that becomes particularly dangerous, especially when you know he has a job to do.

Reluctantly you pull back. His eyes stay closed and you press your foreheads together, listening to the crackles of the torches around you. “Your emotions are strong.” You quietly whisper. “But do not let them control you. Let them guide you.”

He blinks his eyes open, full of clarity.

Letting each other go hesitantly, you take one last look at him and he at you. “Come back to me,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

You can tell you’re both skeptical about your claim, but he nods his head anyway. He walks around you and you don’t turn to look at him leave for fear of wanting to hold him back. You hear the creak of the door, but before he can take another step away from you, you mumble “Give them Hell.”

There’s a slight pause before you start to hear the crunching of the ground beneath him, each step lighter than the last until you can no longer hear him creeping into the night.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

- - - - - -

When you see the money-filled bag hanging on the statue the next day, it’s attached with a note.

His presence overflows through your every pore.

Alpha looks at you with a determined expression on their face, as do the other hijra around them.

It seems they don’t just want repayment, they want a reckoning.

They want retribution.

- - - - - -

A/N: Please let me know what you think by leaving a note, comment, or reblog! Or we can just geek out about Monkey Man lol I definitely won’t be opposed to that lol

#fanfic #x reader #smut #dev patel #fanfiction #fluff #monkey man #monkey man 2024 #monkey man spoilers #the kid #y/n #monkey man fanfiction #monkey man fanfic #the kid x reader #angst #retribution

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rixsjwb · 3 days

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smokey geto, university au

at around 2 p.m., you wake up to the smell of smoke, specifically from a cigarette.

as you feel the sleepiness in your eyes seemingly never going away. You don't fully register what's going on until you eventually sat up. to find yourself sleeping on sugurus bed, while he sat right next to you while satoru played video games with shoko. sukuna and toji scrolling on their phones occasionally showing each other funny videos.

it was weird seeing them not throwing insults at each other and wanting to commit mass murder on one another, as you laid flat on your side, you used your arms too supporting you upright, you couldn't even full take in where to place your hands and you just put it anywhere you could, while doing so your hand lands on something solid and you hear a groan emit from the object.

it was suguru.

your hand had landed on his lower abdomen when trying to sit yourself up, "m'sorry." You say muffled tiredness still lingering in your voice. Your eyes start to see the hazey looking air, thinking your eyes are playing tricks on you, you waft the air in front of you while rubbing your eyes.

you feel yourself come crashing down when the energy you had left, left your body. your head coming in contact with the soft mattress, but you could see suguru in your view of looking up at the ceiling. you could feel his hand running in between the strands of your hair, almost lulling you back to sleep.

but the smoke in the air that starts to go down your lungs caused a violent cough to erupt out of you, drawing most of your friends to check up on you.

"You okay?" satoru asked, the cigarette limply slaying out of his mouth now, gone, as he held it between his index and middle finger. you mumble something that was intelligible, dragging the warm blanket with you too the living room to get more sleep, as the room was pretty much a widefire once the flames were put out, so much smoke.

you never liked when your friends did smoked. not only for their heath but yours too, obviously you don't want to force them too stop, I mean, shokos have been smoking since freshman year, do you really think they'll stop smoking on your request? probably not. Who knows?

as you snuggled up on the couch, the silent aura carried around the living room. You hear the soft click of a door opening and soft footsteps coming closer to you.

you grab the blanket and throw it over your entire face so not a limb is outside of the blanket, but when you feel a hand rest just above you, the blanket acting like a barrier, you start to tug and shove the person throwing their weight on you. you chuckle at their attempt to rip the blanket off you. but eventually, you remove it from your face to see who exactly it is.

"What are you doing here?" You ask tone muffled and quiet even with nothing covering your mouth, "m'wanted peace n' quiet." his baritone voice rumbles as he spoke, sounding a little more raspy than usual, probably from the smoke.

"hey ghetto, how come you always smoke?" you ask a genuine question, you wonder. you watch as he makes a face at the name you jokingly give him, but you both bath In the solitude of eachother.

silence.

"m'dont know, just do, I guess. don't like the smell of the smoke?" he said, you feel hesitant to nod your head, you don't wanna upset him because you don't like the choices he makes, but again it's his body so he can do whatever he'd like.

"yea, aren't you afraid of the lung diseases coming to get you?" You say it's a serious saying, But you can't help but chuckle a little. "You're too young and handsome to spend your days in a hospital." You say, hand stretching out to play with the ends of his long, straight, healthy looking hair. it had gotten longer than you'd remembered.

suguru stays quiet almost in Ponder about what your saying,"and plus not only are you killing you but your killing me cause I have to breath that shit whenever I'm around you, we'll be leukemia twins." Your chuckle sets a vibration in your chest.

you start to play with his hands in the silences, you start to think your words may have come off alittle aggressive and rude, but before you could say anything he beat you too it.

"Don't worry, yr'pretty mind, I promise I'll stop from now on." it takes you by surprise by how quickly it took for him to consider your words.

"You sur-" "Yes, I am. don't want you breathin' in these harmful chemicals."

you decide to joke around with him abit "can I try?" You point to the cigarette in between his fingers, " no silly, it's bad for you." You laugh at the irony of the situation

you watch as he smothers the ciggar into an ashtray, and you can already see the smoke clearing up. he opens the windows to seemingly air out the house before he makes his way back too you, laying his body weight on top of you.

"Get your sleep." he says Ina low tone, his hands drawing soft repetitive shapes on your skin, and he snuggles into your stomach enough to lul you back to sleep.

#jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x you #suguru x y/n #geto suguru x reader #suguru getou x reader #suguru x you #suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto x y/n

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alltheirdamn · 2 days

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 6 Buried Truths

Summary: When the past can only be contained for so long, Joel is there to pick up the pieces. Rating: 18+ MDNI Explicit Word Count: 8.4k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, mentions of a hospital setting, mentions of injury, mentions of past trauma, a FUCK ton of angst, little sprinkle of smut, another cliffhanger (don't worry, i won't make you wait long) A/N: This is the part where you all collectively say OH...

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel’s hand remained wrapped around yours as you stared blankly out the plane window. Everything had been a blur the last twenty-four hours. After you got off the call with Beth, you ran through calling the school to find a substitute, packed what you could into a small carry-on bag, and went online to book the first ticket out to Boston. You tried to talk Joel into staying back in Austin; he had work and Sarah to care for, but he was adamant about coming. He made a quick call to Tommy to make a plan for Sarah and contacted his work to find coverage for the rest of the week. He was only apart from you when he rushed home to pack his travel bag. Then you were both off to the airport: you bleary-eyed and Joel more stoic than you could ever recall seeing. He hadn’t said much between security and the flight gate, but you were too exhausted to try and force conversation.

“Hey,” Joel said, nudging you. “How you feelin’, baby?”

You glanced at him and shrugged, the tears from earlier still drying on your cheeks.

“I’m okay, I guess.”

His fingers squeezed around yours before he brought your hand to his mouth to kiss it softly.

“He’s gonna be alright,” he assured. “Beth said he’s recovering now, right? It’s just gonna take some time.”

While you and Joel were waiting at the gate, you called Beth again to find out what happened with your dad. She explained he had been up on the ladder fixing the roofing above the patio when his foot caught in one of the steps, ultimately forcing him to fall ten feet to the ground. He had a broken hip, a fracture in his lower spine, and a severe concussion—leaving him in a temporary medically induced coma. Beth had said he was lucky to be alive, but the anxiety still bubbled inside you in fear of what he would endure through his recovery. The thought of his injury only elevated the already strong emotions connecting you to the past, making it nearly impossible to cope with your dad’s accident while you simultaneously still struggled with your own.

The plane made a rocky touch-down in Boston well after midnight, the autumn rain causing the plane to slide against the tarmac before coming to a jarring stop. You and Joel rushed around the other passengers, filing out of the plane and sprinting through the airport to find Beth. You singled her out of the crowd, her face rosy and hair piled onto her head in a messy bun. The second she had your arms around you, you crumpled to the ground as the sobs broke out of your chest.

“It’s okay, sis,” she said, her voice breaking. “He’s stable. It’s gonna be okay.”

“What if—what if he’s not?” You sobbed.

You clutched onto her sweater, your head buried into her shoulders. She hushed you, her hand rubbing into your back.

“The doctors said he’ll make a full recovery. We just need to wait,” she said.

“Is there any…” Your voice broke once more.

“No,” she whispered. “There’s no serious damage to his brain.”

You choked on your breath, relief swimming through your veins. This wouldn’t be like your accident; he would be okay.

“C’mon,” she urged, pulling you to your feet.

You wiped your nose across your sleeve, sheepishly turning to Joel. Gesturing from him to Beth, you gave a weak smile.

“Joel, this is Beth. Beth, this is Joel.”

Joel and Beth stood motionless, staring awkwardly at each other. You glanced between them, your eyebrows furrowing. Why weren’t they saying anything?

Finally, Joel cleared his throat and extended his hand to Beth.

“Nice to meet you, Beth. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Beth took his hand cautiously, giving him a friendly smile.

“Same here.”

You’d revisit this awkward interaction later, but you needed to go home.

“Is mom home?” You asked Beth.

You reached for your bag, but Joel gently nudged your hand away. He took it into his hand and walked to the parking garage behind you and your sister.

“Her and Stella are at the hospital,” she explained.

You stopped in your tracks, sending Joel staggering into your back with a soft oof.

“Sorry,” you muttered to Joel. You turned back to Beth. “Take me home.”

“No,” she said sternly. “They want you there. You need to be there.”

“Beth,” you started.

She lifted a hand to silence you, glancing over your shoulder at Joel.

“Can you jump in the car real quick? I need to talk to my sister alone.”

Beth tossed her keys to Joel, waiting until the back door shut before she glared at you.

“Does he know?” She questioned.

“Of course, he doesn’t know,” you argued.

She scoffed, folding her arms.

“Considering everything going on, you didn’t think to mention it to him?”

“Sorry, I’ve been a little busy getting my ass out here as fast as possible. It didn’t register in my mind to share the sad details of my accident with him.”

“You need to tell him, sis.”

“This isn’t the fucking time to do it!” You snapped.

Beth rolled her eyes, her lips pursed for another attack.

“It’s going to come out sooner or later. You know that, right? He’s not going to run away if you tell him.”

“Bennett did, so why is he any different?”

“Stop comparing him to Bennett!” She yelled. “He’s nothing like him, and if you seriously think that, then you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t say that,” you mumbled.

“What? The truth? Because the truth is that you are a fucking idiot. And on top of that, you’re a coward.”

“Fuck you,” you spat.

Beth laughed. She actually laughed. Rounding the car, she left you standing teary-eyed and frustrated.

“Get in the fucking car,” she shouted. “We’re wasting time.”

You hauled yourself into the front seat, keeping your eyes out of the window and avoiding the heavy truth sitting between you, Beth, and Joel. If any one of them told him about your past, you’d kill them. It was yours to share whenever you were ready.

Beth drove like a bat out of hell to Mass General. No one said anything the entire drive, and you were grateful for it. After the blowup between you and Beth, you had no more energy left to fight. You just hoped you’d be able to reel in the anger with Joel; he didn’t deserve it.

Mass General loomed above the rain clouds settling over the city. Joel and Beth had already exited the car while you sat inside its warmth, your eyes stuck on the Emergency sign at the front of the hospital. Joel tapped on the window, stirring you from the numbing sensation rolling through your body. You didn’t even flinch at the sound of his knuckles on the glass. Joel cracked the door open, pulling it wide enough to fit his broad between the metal and your shaking body.

“C’mon baby,” he urged, offering his hand. “I know y’can do this. I’m right here with you, okay?”

“I can’t,” you whined.

Joel crouched slightly, leveling you with soft brown eyes, a curl drifting over his forehead. You wished you were both in bed, curled under the covers and far away from Boston. You wanted his soft hair between your fingers and his stubble ticking your skin. But no, you were here in Boston, with a rain cloud hanging in the sky and your father unconscious in a hospital bed.

“Look at me,” Joel breathed.

You wanted to look anywhere but at him. If he looked at you any longer, you’d shatter completely. He cautioned your name, coaxing you from your hesitation. His strong hands cupped your cheeks, holding you firm as he kept your focus on his eyes.

“I’m right here,” he repeated. “Ain’t gonna leave your side no matter what. Y’understand? Whatever happens, I’m right here.”

You chewed on your lip to keep the sobs from escaping. It was surprising you had anything left to cry; all you did was cry… and cry… and cry.

“I can’t go in there, Joel. You don’t—you don’t understand.”

“Help me understand,” he pleaded.

“Go without me. I’ll wait outside, okay?”

“Baby,” he groaned. “Beth will have my ass if I don’t get you inside.”

You scoffed, ripping his hands from your face.

“You speak a few words to her and suddenly know how she’s gonna react?” You glared. “You both acted so fucking weird in the airport and now you’re taking her side?”

Joel straightened to his full height, the shadow of his body blanketing you. You were pushing him away; you knew it, and so did he. You just needed to nudge him a bit more, and he’d run. You’d be alone again and spare yourself the humiliation and heartbreak.

“I ain’t takin’ sides,” he argued. “I’m bein’ realistic. I saw the way she went at you back there. I’m not ‘bout to get the same treatment for leavin’ you behind.”

“Just go!” You yelled. You shoved at his chest, forcing him back into the door.

He didn’t respond in anger like you expected. He did the opposite, pulling you towards him and into a desperate kiss. You tried to push him off—tried to fight it— but he only held you tighter.

“Keep fightin’ me, baby,” he said against your mouth. “I’m only gonna fight back.”

“I hate you,” you cried. “I hate you.”

But you didn’t stop kissing him. You gripped the wild curls at the base of his neck, pinning him to your lips as you sobbed through every slant of his mouth.

“Why won’t you leave?” You cried, the words muffled as his tongue searched for yours. “Why, Joel?”

“I ain’t leavin’ you again, baby,” he murmured. “I can’t.”

Joel pulled away from your swollen lips, tears pooling in his eyes. You instantly felt remorse for treating him so badly. You wouldn’t do to him what Bennett did to you.

“Remember when I said this was real?” he asked. “Do you still believe that?”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears ran down your cheeks.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Then trust me when I say I’m never leavin’. Not now. Not ever.”

You inhaled a sharp breath and buried your head in your hands.

“Just give me a minute, okay?” You exhaled. “Catch up with Beth, and I’ll be right behind you.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, echoing the words you spoke only a few weeks ago.

“You and your deals,” you grumbled, peeking out your fingers.

That garnered a slight grin from Joel, his lips curling upward.

“Take your breather, and I’ll wait by the back of the car. If y’wanna go in, we can go in together.”

You remained silent, hiccuping over another sob. Joel raised his brow, waiting for a response. Avoiding his eyes, you nodded, the Emergency sign taunting you from a distance. Joel leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead and abandoned you to retreat toward the back of the car.

You steadied your breathing, focusing on the slow inhale and exhale of the air within your lungs. It wasn’t you in that hospital bed; it was your dad. He didn’t sustain the same damage you had, and that’s all that mattered. Whatever the outcome, he was better off than you had ever been, and you needed to be grateful for it.

You let your legs move on their own accord as you took your spot beside Joel, his hand instantly grasping around yours. His touch grounded you in the moment, keeping you centered as your mind swam upstream through the rocky waves of the past. You had to stay strong. You had to prove you could do this.

The second your feet crossed through the sliding doors, all that strength collapsed. Joel hooked a strong arm around your back, bracing you to his side as he guided you into the waiting room. Your mom and Beth sat side by side in the worn-down seats, their faces grim and tired.

“Hey,” you said wearily.

Your mom's eyes snapped up, and she broke down at seeing you. She ran up to yank you from Joel’s grasp, smothering you into a tight hug.

“Oh, honey,” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“How’s dad?” You asked, speaking into her hair that wrapped around your face.

“Doctors haven’t given much of an update, but he’s alright. They’re taking him in for surgery in a few hours to help reset his hip.”

“And his head?” You faltered.

“There’s no serious damage,” she whispered.

You peered over her shoulder to where Beth sat, eyes meeting in a quiet understanding. There was still a tension running thick between you both, but those words from your mom were enough to soothe the surmounting anxiety inside you.

“Mom,” you sighed, tearing away from her embrace. “This is Joel.”

You motioned to Joel behind you, an eerie repeat of what had happened between him and Beth. Your mom stood frozen, her eyes widening as she stared at him. Joel cracked a welcoming smile, extending his hand out to her. No one moved, and his hand remained wavering in the stagnant air.

“Mom?” You pressed.

She shook her head and opened her arms to Joel, inviting him in for a hug. It was strange but not entirely unexpected, considering the circumstances.

“Hi, honey,” she said as she rocked Joel back and forth in the embrace.

“Hi, Mrs. Smith,” Joel replied. You caught on to the way his biceps flexed around her, squeezing her just as tightly as he would with you. He was comforting her, and something softened inside you.

Beth cleared her throat behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your mom released Joel and turned towards Beth.

“She should go up and see him,” Beth told your mom.

“She is right here,” you snapped.

“Oh, now she wants to listen to me,” Beth snorted.

“Both of you!” Your mom shouted. “Enough!”

You shrunk away, folding yourself into Joel’s warm frame. The press of his body against yours quelled the anger rising back up, and you kept focus on his hands rubbing over your arms to keep from lashing out. Beth was pushing, and you knew exactly why.

“Listen, Beth, stay here and chill out,” your mom started. She glanced back at you and Joel before continuing. “Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll take you to see him.”

You followed your mom up to the ICU, your eyes shifting from one room to another. The repetition of machines beeping and murmurs of nurses through the hall slammed into your head like a hammer, and you found yourself clinging to Joel, twisting his cotton shirt until it stretched between your fingers.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel crooned. “I got you. Ain’t lettin’ you go.”

Mom guided you to the room where Stella was perched on a chair beside the bed. You averted your eyes from your dad, refusing to look. Stella turned to see you walk in and immediately sprinted into your arms, sobbing into your chest.

“I know. I know,” you cried.

“I was so scared it was going to happen again, sis,” she muttered.

“They said he was okay, right? It’s not going to happen to him,” you assured.

“But what if it does? What if he wakes up and doesn’t remember—.”

“Don’t,” you interjected. “Don’t say it.”

She peeled herself from you and wiped away her tears. Joel stepped forward, his hand pressed to your lower back, as he made his way to introduce himself.

“I’m Joel,” he smiled, extending his hand.

Stella flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling into his chest. Your mom watched them with a knowing look, something you couldn’t discern.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she sighed.

Weird. You only really talked to Beth about Joel and didn’t expect her to share it with anyone except your mom.

Joel rubbed her shoulders gently, then pulled away.

“Likewise, Stell.”

Stell. You didn’t recall calling her that in front of Joel; that nickname was reserved for you and only you. Your head was pounding, and the nagging feeling that you were losing grip on reality was slowly settling in. You worked so hard to remember everything; it wouldn’t happen again. Not now.

“You okay, sweetie?” Your mom cautioned, stepping beside you.

Her voice roused you from your confusion, and you made the mistake of looking at your dad for the first time. He looked so much smaller, lying in the hospital bed: a breathing tube situated under his nose and IVs running through the bend of his arm. Oh God, and his face. Both of his eyes were rimmed in dark bruises, and a thick layer of bandages was wrapped over his forehead. Was that how you looked all those years ago? Your stomach churned with nausea the longer you looked at him. The whirring of the machines in the room dizzied you, and you felt your body swaying in place. Joel quickly steadied you, his arms coming around your front to lock you into a tight hold.

“You’re okay, baby,” he murmured into your ear.

“Do you want to be alone with him, sweetie?” Your mom asked.

“Please,” you said, nodding.

Joel kissed the crown of your head before following your mom and Stella out into the hall. You glanced over your shoulder to see them all huddled together, the cracked blinds inside the room obstructing your view of what they were saying. You’d ask Joel about it later.

Turning back to your dad, you let the real tears fall. The ugly, gut-wrenching ones you had held back for so long. Tears that weren’t just for him, but for you as well. No one in your family knew the fear and pain that came with a head injury. No one could understand you—not even Bennett, despite everything he tried to say and do. You were alone in its entirety, but you’d be damned if your dad dealt with the same.

Cradling his hand in yours, you drew circles over his calloused skin with your thumb. You didn’t have words to express your pain, so you sat in silence. The constant repetition of machinery beeping throbbed through the recesses of your brain, a migraine looming on the horizon. You’d suffer with it later, but it would be worth it just to stay in this moment a few seconds longer.

“I love you, dad,” you whispered.

You didn’t know if he could hear you, but you hoped he did.

You remained silent for a few more minutes and glanced at the clock above the bed. 3: 13 AM. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had drained away, and the fatigue in your body was settling in rapidly. You wanted to lie down and wake up when everything was better, but it all came with time. And you hated that. You hated time and things it had stolen from you.

A light rap on the door startled you from your silent cocoon, and you turned to see Joel peeking in through the window. You motioned him to come in, and he bent beside the bed, his hand resting on your thigh.

“How ya’ doin’, baby?” He asked softly.

“I’m tired,” you lamented.

He smoothed his hand over your legs, the warmth of his touch radiating through your body. You leaned into his touch, letting your head rest on his.

“I’m gonna ask Beth if we can take the car and go home,” you said. “I can’t be here anymore, and I need sleep.”

“We can do that. Your mom said they’re gonna take him for surgery in a few, anyway. No point stickin’ around if we’d just be waitin’.”

“When he’s out of surgery, they can call me, and we can come back.”

“Sounds like a plan, baby. Let’s get you home.”

Joel offered to drive Beth’s car back to the house. You sat beside him, your head propped in your hand, watching as he drove through the city streets. Even cast in the late night sky, he was so handsome. The rich tan color of his skin seemed to be illuminated by the moonlight glinting through the windshield, his brown eyes softer than you’d ever seen. There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his lips, but he still looked so kind and so loving. Joel glanced over at you as the car slowed in front of the red light.

“What’s that look for?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m just really thankful you’re here,” you exhaled. “I’m sorry you had to see me so angry earlier. It wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you.”

Joel leaned over the dash to pull you in for a soft, fleeting kiss.

“There’s a lot happenin’ right now, baby. Be angry all y’want. I can take it,” he said.

You chewed on your lip and nodded, turning your attention back to the street as the light turned green. Joel drove in silence the rest of the way to your parent's house, guiding him quietly with directions every few turns. Even though it had only been a few weeks since you were last home, the streets were scattered with yellow and orange leaves, autumn settling over the neighborhood. The car's tires flattened over them as Joel slowed to the front of the house and killed the engine.

“This where y’grew up?” Joel asked, tilting his head toward the house.

You nodded, but your eyes were glued to the porch. The ladder was still lying on the ground; the metal pressed into the cold grass of the front lawn. Joel must’ve picked up on your fixation and sighed.

“I’ll go pick it up, baby. Why don’t you grab your bag and head in, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” But your eyes didn’t stray from the ladder.

You watched Joel reach the ladder, his body a beacon under the moonlight. His tall figure moved against the cover of the night sky, working quickly to move it off to the side of the house. You took an extra moment to collect yourself before gathering your bags and meeting him on the porch. Joel took them immediately from your hands as you guided him into the house. You’d give him a tour of it tomorrow; you just wanted to curl under the covers of your bed and waste away.

When you opened the door to your bedroom, Joel gave a low whistle, glancing around at the artifacts of your childhood. Miscellaneous pictures of you and your sisters hung on the walls, along with a collection of CDs stacked on the floor in one corner and a reading nook built into the windowsill. The dated white armoire was nestled against the wall beside your vanity, and the large queen bed sat untouched and nicely made with its white comforter and grey pillows.

“Nice lil’ room y’got here, baby,” Joel chuckled.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” you shrugged.

You dumped your bag on the ground, collapsing backward until your back hit the bed with a soft thud. Joel followed your lead, and you both lay there silently, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun in circles. It was tempting just to succumb to sleep right in that moment, but you knew you needed a shower to wash off the lingering stress of the day.

“Come shower with me?” You asked, glancing over at Joel.

“Of course.”

The heat of the shower pelted your skin as Joel rubbed a loufa into your back muscles, working out the knots that had materialized through the long day. You basked in the warmth of his body pressed into yours, your head falling back against his muscular chest and eyes drifting shut. His tender touch helped alleviate the pressure building in your head, and you prayed that the migraine would subside soon enough.

“Doin’ okay, baby?” He asked, his mouth pressing into the side of your neck.

You hummed at his lips on your skin, bringing your arm up to wrap around the back of his neck. His fingers drifted over the curves of your body, squeezing your hips softly before trailing between your legs.

“Can I?”

“Mhmm,” you sighed, shifting your body slightly so that he could explore further.

His hand dipped between your legs, your arousal already pooling at your entrance. He was slow with his touch, each graze of his fingers over your sensitive bud eliciting a soft moan from your lips. Joel’s mouth roamed over the expanse of your neck as he continued to draw circles over your throbbing clit. Your fingers tugged at his wet curls, urging him closer. The blood coursing through your veins thrummed with pleasure as he teased the build-up of your release.

“You’re beautiful, baby. Y’know that?” He whispered in your ear.

Maybe it was the gentle touch of his fingers or his words swimming through your mind, but your climax shattered you into pieces in record time. Your thighs clenched tight around his hand as you let out a soft cry.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Let go, baby.”

You slumped against his body, your heart settling back into a normal rhythm. Joel held you close, wrapping his arms around your front and swaying you under the spray of the water. Your eyes grew heavy the longer you remained in his embrace, so you decided to cut the water and drag him out and into bed.

Under the security of your comforter, you clung to Joel and buried your head into the crook of his arm. He traced circles over your bare arm, letting you lay quietly against him. The familiar pressure of a migraine began forming in your mind, the pounding ache settling behind your eyes. You squeezed your eyes tighter, curling yourself up into his body in hopes it would fade away as you slept.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked, noticing the tension paralyzing your muscles.

“Migraine,” you choked out.

“What do y’need? I can go get it.”

“No, I’m fine,” you lied. “Just stay here. Please.”

“These happen often?”

“Not in a while.” You couldn’t find the strength to form complete sentences, so the words came out choppy and pained.

“Will sleep help?”

“I hope,” you muttered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Joel’s arms tightened around your body, anchoring you to his side as he hummed softly into your hair. Pain pulsated through your head as you forced yourself to fall asleep, your limbs shaking as they wrapped around his torso.

All you wanted was for the pain to go away.

A few hours later, the morning light dancing through the window stirred you awake. The residual aching pain in your head still lingered, but it was far more manageable than it had been before you fell asleep. Joel snored softly beside you, and you took the chance to watch him as he slept peacefully beside you. The creases in his skin were softened in his slumber, his face relaxed and calm. His lips were parted slightly, the bottom one plush and pouty and tempting to kiss. You nestled into his body, your mouth roaming over his scruffy jaw and eventually reaching his lips. The strange urge to say I love you nearly tumbled out of your mouth as you kissed him, but you swallowed it and saved it away. It was the first time you thought those three little words in the space with someone other than Bennett. Knowing Joel was digging closer to your heart, breaking down every barrier and wall, it was still frightening. But if this sudden trip had taught you anything, he was right; this was real. You weren’t ready to confess those words, but in time you would.

Just not now.

Joel roused himself from sleep, groaning softly as he pulled you in for a gentle kiss.

“Mornin’, baby. How’s your head feelin’?”

“Better,” you sighed.

“Ready to go back to the hospital?”

You groaned, shoving your head under the comforter.

“I hate it there.”

He squeezed your side, urging you back up to the surface. Your eyes connected with his, the morning light coloring his eyes a rich shade of amber. Flecks of gold scattered through his irises, blending into the rich chocolate brown you were drawn to.

“Why do y’hate it so much?” He wondered.

“I—I just don’t have good memories of it.”

“Y’wanna talk to me ‘bout it?”

You rolled onto your back, closing your eyes as the memories waded through the headache still swimming in your head.

“Bennett, there’s a chance this could actually work,” you begged.

“I’m not risking it. What if it doesn’t work and things get worse?” He argued. “Isn’t it easier to just move forward?”

You rubbed circles into your temples, trying to soften the onset migraine surging to the surface. All this arguing was making you nauseous and tired. Why wouldn’t Bennett be on your side about this? Why wasn’t he agreeing with you?

“I want to remember,” you lamented. “I want those two years back.”

“The doctors said it’ll take time. Why isn’t that enough?” Bennett sighed, crouching down to meet you at eye level.

“You don’t understand, Bennett.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped.

It was the first time you’d experienced his anger in such a way. He wasn’t taking your side, and he wasn’t even listening to your requests. You could only nod and cave to his arguments; he was the one holding the power now. You had to trust him.

Situating yourself against the headboard, you inhaled sharply and glanced at Joel.

“I might as well tell you since everyone is on my case about it,” you groaned.

“Only if you wanna, baby. I ain’t gonna force you,” Joel sighed, looking up at you.

Giving yourself a moment to gather your thoughts, you dove into the story.

“I was in an accident when I was twenty-two, or I guess twenty-four. The last thing I remember was being twenty-two and just moving to Austin with Bennett. We had just moved into our apartment, and I was about to start substitute teaching while finishing my Master's degree. Everything was great. Then, I got in an accident on the way home from school, and the next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital.

“I guess in the crash, my head hit the dashboard hard enough to cause serious damage to my brain. They—the doctors, told me I had sustained enough trauma to cause retrograde amnesia. I woke up thinking I was still twenty-two, Joel. I lost two years of my life. I couldn’t remember a single thing.”

“Oh, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he whispered, propping himself on his elbows.

“Bennett tried to fill me in on pieces of it, but trying to remember did more damage than anything,” you continued. “I had migraines all the time. I could barely function for the first couple of months, and that’s when my parents talked me into coming back here. To Mass General. They ran so many tests on me and tried to find solutions, but there was no hope. Bennett was adamant about not causing any more damage to my brain, so I just gave up,” you explained.

“You gave up tryin’ to remember?” He asked, pulling himself up to sit beside you. There was a deep furrow between his brows and a noticeable shift in his body language. Everything was tense, from his jaw to how his fists clenched together.

“Yeah. I trusted Bennett with the memories I no longer had and knew he would take care of me. Or at least, I hoped he would. The doctors suggested I stay in Boston to go through psychotherapy to help try and piece together those memories, but Bennett was against it. It caused a huge riff in my family since they wanted me to stay and get help.”

“He kept you from rememberin’ things,” Joel frowned.

You nodded, digging your knuckles into your eyes to try and push away the pressure building behind them again.

“We were here for almost two months, just constantly going in and out of the hospital. I’d have these debilitating migraines that would lead to fainting spells, so I was always back at the emergency room for more testing. The outcome was always the same, though. I felt so defeated every time like it was my fault,” you confessed.

Joel laid a hand on your thigh, smoothing over your skin as you tried to drag in a lungful of air.

“It ain’t your fault though, baby,” he assured.

“I should have advocated for myself more. I just did whatever Bennett said because he knew things I couldn’t remember. He even proposed here. He made this big, long speech about how he never wanted to face the fear of losing me again, and I went with it because I loved him. I loved him enough to do whatever he said because I owed it to him.”

“You were tryna heal from everythin’,” he offered, trying to make sense of it all. “It’s not your fault for what happened after.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes.

“But it is,” you argued. “It’s my fault Bennett left. If I thought our fights before the crash were bad… It only got worse. We moved out of our apartment and got this big house. We decided to speed through our engagement for the sake of my fucking memory. All the while, Bennett just started to get angrier and angrier. I was trying so hard to remember things, and he just started to remember less. He was always fighting with me over every little thing. He barely touched me or looked at me. For fuck sake, he wouldn’t even sleep in the same bed as me! It’s like he didn’t want me to have those memories back, and I just—I don’t understand why.”

Joel pulled your head into his hands, his eyes darkening as he stared at you. His thumbs rubbed over your cheekbones in an attempt to calm your rambling. You wanted to flinch away from his touch, but he only held you tighter.

“None of this is your fault,” he emphasized.

“It is, though,” you sniffled. The tears were ready to slip at any moment. “He wanted the girl I was before the crash, and I was so hell-bent on trying to fix my memory that I stopped being that version of myself. I couldn’t be what he wanted, so he left. I wasn’t enough, Joel. I couldn’t fight for him to stay because he didn’t want me. I—I’m so fucked up, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flared, a wash of anger clouding his eyes. But you knew it wasn’t anger toward you. It was toward Bennett.

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” he snapped. “You’re not fucked up. Bennett was an asshole, and I swear I’d kill him if I could.”

“That’s not funny,” you deadpanned.

“It wasn’t meant to be funny, baby. I’m serious. Ain’t no way y’went through hell and back for him to do that to you. Y’didn’t get the time to heal because you were so focused on tryin’ to make him happy, and he didn’t deserve you. You know that, right? None of this is your fault.”

You shrugged off his hands and scooted out of the warmth of the bed. Digging through your bag, you pulled out a change of clothes, carelessly throwing an outfit together while Joel sat motionless on the bed.

“Baby,” Joel pleaded. “Stop for a minute, ‘kay? Are you listenin’ to me?”

He threw back the covers and strode to where you stood, your arms halfway into a sweater. He helped tug it the rest of the way, settling it over your body before reeling you in for a long kiss. It was his weapon for shutting you up, and he was really fucking good at using it. You dragged yourself away from his mouth, staggering back until there was enough distance between you and him.

“I should have fucking listened to everyone,” you heaved. “I should have fucking stayed in Boston, but I wanted to prove I could do it. I wanted to prove I could continue living with this fucked up part of myself.”

Joel cautioned your name, and you took another step back.

“Look at me, Joel!” You laughed. “I’m fucked up! I still can’t remember a damn fucking thing, and being here is only a brutal reminder of that. I lost so much of myself because of that accident. And I swear to God, if I lose my dad, too. I—I can’t…”

Your knees hit the ground before it even registered in your mind. Joel was quick to drop to the floor in front of you, pulling you into his lap as the sobs wracked through your body. You rocked yourself back and forth as Joel’s arms wound into a vice around your chest. He hushed you softly as you audibly cried loud enough to echo around the room.

“You aren’t gonna lose him,” Joel whispered in your ear.

“What if—.” You choked on another cry.

“Breathe with me, baby. Just breathe. C’mon.”

Joel inhaled loudly, coaxing you to do the same. You followed his lead, exhaling when he instructed to. You both repeated it a few more times until you felt the surge of emotions slow.

“That’s it, baby,” he sighed. “I’m right here with you. Everythin’ is gonna be okay.”

You burrowed your head into his chest, your tears dampening his bare chest. How was he not running away from you? You laid all your damaged pieces out, and he still had his arms around you. You didn’t deserve it. You couldn’t make sense of it.

“What do y’say we get back to the hospital?” Joel offered after a moment. “We can check in and see how the surgery went. It’ll give you some peace of mind.”

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

Joel helped you to your feet, and you both finished changing in silence. You grabbed your purse and followed Joel to the car, and you both returned to Mass General.

“He’s fine, honey,” your mom said, giving you a weak smile.

You were all crowded in the hospital room surrounding your dad as he lay unconscious on the bed.

“The doctors say he’s going to make a full recovery,” she continued. “They’re going to slow the sedative down, and hopefully, he’ll be waking up in the next day or so.”

Beth and Stella stood close together, Stella’s head resting on Beth’s shoulder. Their expressions were painted with relief, and you felt your muscles loosen at the news.

“So, we just wait?” You asked.

“We will wait,” your mom corrected. “You and Joel should go back to Austin. There’s no point sticking around now that we know he’s alright.”

You turned to stare at her, your lips twisting into a scowl.

“I am not leaving until he wakes up,” you argued.

“We’ll call right when he wakes up,” she offered. “I know being here is hard for you, honey. And you’ve got a job that needs you.”

“Mom!” You shouted. It was loud enough to startle everyone. “I’m not leaving.”

“She’s right, baby,” Joel chimed in. “He’s gonna be okay.”

“I want to stay.”

“Look, let’s make a deal. We stay another day and then go home, okay?”

You glanced between everyone in the room, finally settling your eyes on your dad, still unconscious in the bed. Everyone was right, but you didn’t want to leave yet. You weren’t ready. Even if being here felt like hell.

“One more day,” you agreed.

You remained at the hospital most of the day, shifting between the waiting room and your dad’s room. Everyone took turns visiting him and meeting with doctors, and Joel stayed at your side every minute. Stella took a liking to him most out of everyone, spending a good majority of the time talking his ear off about Sarah. Seeing Joel engage with her as he did was endearing as if they knew each other and were old friends catching up. He treated everyone in your family so kindly that it was hard to continue shoving down those three little words. You wanted to say them more than ever…but weren’t sure when you’d feel ready.

Eventually, the day faded into night, and your mom urged everyone to go home while she insisted on staying. You didn’t know when she had slept last, but she was adamant about staying with your dad. Beth drove you all home, humming some song that floated through the radio. As the house came into view, she dialed down the volume and turned toward the backseat.

“Joel, Stella, will you guys head in while I talk to sis?” Beth asked as she parked the car.

You gave her a confused stare as they filed out and walked up the driveway toward the house.

“Did you tell him?” She asked, turning to look at you.

Her eyes were dark with heavy circles, and her lips stuck in a straight line.

“I did,” you nodded.

“What did he say?”

“He just sympathized with me. There’s not much else to say,” you shrugged.

“That’s it?” She pressed, her brows scrunching together.

You scoffed, glancing out the side window.

“What did you want him to say, Beth? There isn’t much to say when you tell someone your memory is all fucked up.”

“I just figured he’d say more,” she offered.

“Like what?” You snapped. “Nothing he says is going to magically make it better.”

“I know, I know. I just thought he’d say more.”

You stared at her, the tiredness creeping into your bones. You didn’t want to argue anymore, not about this or anything.

“Can we just go in? I’m tired,” you said.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Beth and Stella offered to make dinner that night, all four of you quietly eating in heavy silence as the evening drifted later. Once dinner was all said and done, you and Joel retired to your room, curling up under the covers once again. You tangled your legs between his and kissed up his chest and under his jaw.

“Baby,” he warned. “The girls are right down the hall. Don’t be doin’ that.”

“Why?” You questioned, continuing the path up his cheek and to his lips.

Joel captured your mouth in a hungry kiss, his hands tangling in your hair. You moaned softly as the kiss depended, his hands roaming over your body.

“I want you, Joel,” you whispered against his mouth.

“Baby, we can’t,” he groaned. But he didn’t stop kissing you.

He rolled his body over yours, pinning you to the bed as his hand slid under your pajama bottoms. You bucked into his hand, searching for a fleeting touch to quell the ache growing between your thighs. Joel responded to your desperation, slipping a finger between your slick folds.

“I’ll be quiet,” you promised. “Just keep kissing me.”

Joel relented to your pleas, locking his mouth with yours again. He added another finger, plunging them inside you as you cried out at the pressure. His teeth quickly bit down on your bottom lip, a silent demand to keep your voice down.

“Sorry,” you exhaled.

“Be good for me, baby,” he whispered.

His fingers abandoned you, but it was barely a moment of loss before he sank his cock into you. You used all your strength to hold back a groan of relief as the slight sting of your body stretching to him faded into bliss. Joel kept his hands tangled in your hair as he rocked into you, your bodies moving in unison as he drove himself deeper with each thrust.

“Joel…” You whimpered against his mouth.

“Stay quiet, baby.”

His mouth roamed down the column of your throat, sucking gently at your skin as he reached one arm down to hook around the back of your knee. The change in position only sent his cock deeper inside you, your core clenching around him with every drive of his hips.

“It feels so good,” you panted, rolling your hips. “I’m so close, Joel. Don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” he hummed. “Cum for me, baby.”

His hips snapped harder against you, and you bit back another cry of pleasure. Your body thrummed with the need for release, the waves crashing inside you growing stronger. Just a little more… a little more. Joel’s other hand snaked between your bodies, his fingers brushing over your clit. You arched into his touch and ground your nails into the skin of his biceps.

“Joel,” you choked.

The orgasm exploded through you, fogging your vision as your core pulsated around his cock. Joel let out a strangled groan and tumbled over the edge with you, his release filling you only seconds later.

Joel collapsed against your body, his cock slipping out of you as it softened. You welcomed the weight of him, letting his skin meld into yours. I love you. It was just a breath from escaping your lips, but you kept it shoved down.

Another time, you told yourself.

“Can I sleep like this?” Joel chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Whatever you want, handsome,” you giggled.

He peered up at you, a grin curving over his face.

“There’s that word again,” he smirked.

“Oh, shut up. You like it.”

“I really fuckin’ do.”

You bent your neck to kiss his forehead before settling back against the pillow. It was easier to sleep like this, knowing you’d have him in your arms when you woke up. It made everything inside you hurt less.

After an extra day at the hospital, nothing new had progressed with your dad. Your mom assured you that she would call if she had any news of him waking up, so you and Joel said your goodbyes and made the trip back to Austin.

Nothing had changed in Austin, not that you were expecting it to. Joel returned home after spending an extra few hours under your bed sheets with you, groaning about not wanting to leave. You urged him to go, knowing Sarah was probably missing him. That first night home alone was the hardest; the nightmares continued again now that you had no distractions. The migraine had returned at full throttle when you woke up the next morning, and you had to make an extra effort to pull yourself from bed and dress for work. Not a single cell in your body wanted to return to a classroom full of loud kids, but you had missed enough days and needed to make up for lost time.

Maria was the first to drill you with questions as you arrived at the school.

“Is everything okay? I asked around and only heard that it was a family emergency.”

You shuffled into your classroom, Maria hot on your heels. You could barely stand the stream of light coming through the windows, let alone the sound of her voice.

“My dad had an accident, that’s all,” you assured. “Everything is okay.”

“Oh, thank God he’s okay.” She flung her arms around you, giving you a suffocating hug.

You peeled away from her, steadying your body against the corner of your desk.

“I’ll tell you more later, okay? I just need to prep for classes before the first bell.”

“I’ll check in on you later,” she announced before leaving.

The day moved on slowly, and before you knew it, your final class was over. As the students filed out, you started gathering your things but noticed Sarah lingered behind.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” You asked as she approached your desk.

“Um, kinda?” She gave you a sheepish look. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course, sweetheart. What’s going on?”

She shifted her weight between her legs, her hazel eyes on the floor.

“Are you dating my dad?”

Your breath stalled, and you were unsure of what to say or do. Was it appropriate to lie? You and Joel hadn’t discussed the possibility of her finding out much and now was definitely not the time.

“Why do you ask?” You were deflecting.

“I overheard him talking to my Uncle Tommy last night,” she explained.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and blood rushed through your ears. God, what had they said? What did she hear?

“Go on,” you insisted, your voice unsteady.

“My dad told Uncle Tommy he loved you.”

At that moment, her hazel eyes met yours, and everything came crashing down. You tripped over your words and found yourself gripping the desk.

“Miss Smith?” Sarah cautioned.

“I’m sure your dad was talking about someone else,” you lied. “Why don’t you head home? I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She looked at you with confusion written all over her face but eventually followed your request and left you in an empty room.

You sank into your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose. You knew Joel’s feelings were there for you, but you didn’t want to hear it from Sarah. You wanted to hear it from him. Searching for your purse, you found your phone and dialed his number with shaking hands.

He answered immediately.

“Did y’hear from your mom?” He asked in a rush.

“No, it’s not that. Can you—” You steadied your breathing. “Can you just meet me at my house?”

“Of course, is everythin�� okay? You’re worryin’ me.”

“I’m fine, Joel. I’ll see you there in a few.”

You hung up before he could say anymore and be-lined for your car. You drove home on autopilot, the words jumbling together in your head.

I think he’s already falling in love with you.

My dad told Uncle Tommy he loved you.

Over and over again, Beth and Sarah’s voices played on a loop. You turned onto your street and blinked back tears. You weren’t ready to face this. What were you going to say? What would Joel say? What would—

You slammed on your brakes right before you got to your house.

Joel’s truck wasn’t there.

But Bennett’s car was.

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