"C'mon Val gimme a break." A pink haired demon stormed into her dressing room, attempting to slam the door behind her but it was stopped by a slim hand that shoved it back open harshly. She spun around on her heels, glaring at the tall male. "I've been at this for hours, I'm tired, achy and not in the damn mood you hear me."
"Rennie, darling. I dont believe you're in charge here." He spoke with a soft tongue, the words rolling so sweetly off his lips. He staggered closer to her, a red orb swelling in his hands before he formed a fist around it and tugged as a red chain appeared around Rennie's neck, forcing her towards him. "You do as I say, I own you."
She continued to glare up at him, a clawed hand pulling at the collar in an attempt to get it off. "I ain't working here forever, I'll find a way out. However long it takes."
"I dont think you get it Dollface." Valentino chuckled cruelly, mouth agape as he bellowed. "You're mine. when I call you, you answer, if I want you at the studio, you get here ASAP. You hear me. Your my property, every second, every minute, everyday. Forever. Now what do you say."
"Fuck yo-" he tugged on the chain pulling her closer, her cheek almost making contact with his mouth as she swerved her head to the side, a choked whine passing her lips. "Y-yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes Valentino?"
...
[Verse]
Neon lights they burn my eyes
Walking streets where daylight dies
Promises are cheaper here
Every glance a silent tear
[Verse 2]
Drunk on hope and whisky dreams
Monsters whisper evil schemes
I see his face in every shade
Darkness cast by deals we've made
[Chorus]
Poison kisses fill my night
Trading pain for borrowed flight
In this cage but still I pray
Wings of freedom find my way
[Verse 3]
Lonely echoes drown the sound
Of a past I can't renown
Saw the devil in his grin
Can’t let go can't let him win
[Bridge]
Stars are falling from my sky
Empty bottles asking why
Lost in shadows of regret
Searching for a brighter bet
[Chorus]
Poison kisses fill my night
Trading pain for borrowed flight
In this cage but still I pray
Wings of freedom find my way
...
As she walked through the grim streets of Hell, the heat and sulfur clawed at her lungs, but it couldn’t smother the rage simmering in her chest. She muttered bitter words under her breath, her pace quickening as she walked, her fists clenched tight.
"That bastard." she muttered, her voice sharp and full of venom. "All his empty promises, all his lies. ‘You're special, you're mine.’ Yeah, right. Fucking bitch." She scoffed at the memory, shaking her head.
She had always been fine with her job in Hell. She was someone who embraced her hypersexuality, who found power in it. It was never hard to commit to what she did, because it felt natural to her. But Valentino had twisted it all, drained her of her energy and will. She'd been used in ways she never imagined, exploited at all hours, until everything that once felt empowering now felt like a constant weight on her shoulders.
“I used to feel in control. Now, I'm just exhausted." Her voice cracked slightly, frustration filling her every word. "Used and tossed aside every day for what? His sick fucking pleasures." She let out a short, bitter laugh.
Her body ached. She could feel the exhaustion seeping into her bones as if it would never leave. The thought of another night under Valentino's thumb made her stomach churn. She had had enough. But as much as she wanted to escape, she knew she couldn’t.
"Yeah, he owns me. I know." she admitted aloud, her voice small. "I signed that damn contract. What else could I have done?" She paused, her breath shallow. "Leave Hell? What a joke."
She kept walking, not knowing where she was going, just needing to escape her thoughts. Then, like a beacon through the darkness, something caught her eye a glowing sign. The Hazbin Hotel.
The door opened with a soft creak, and she stepped inside. The warmth of the hotel contrasted sharply with the cold, oppressive atmosphere outside. The buzz of voices, the clink of glasses it felt alive, chaotic in a way that almost felt freeing. She glanced around, her eyes landing on the bar, where a few figures were lounging.
Husk stood behind the bar, lazily polishing a glass, but it was Angel Dust who caught her attention. The moment he noticed her, his eyes lit up with curiosity, and a grin tugged at his lips.
“Well, look who wandered in,” Angel Dust said, his voice smooth and teasing. His gaze quick but carefully studying her. “Hey sweet thing, whatcha doing here?”
“I need a drink,” she said, her voice hoarse, tinged with frustration. She glanced at Angel, and then to Husk. “Please.”
"Woah doll, what happened to you?" Angel took a closer look at her neck, looking over her as he reached down and took a hold of her chin in his hand, lifting it until he could see the purpleish mark that set around the front of her neck.
"Nothin dusty." She dismissed, turning her head so it fell from his hold. "Just a long session is all."
"Hmph." Husk grumbled lowly from behind the counter, walking towards the two with a drink in hand. He slid it over to the female and sent a soft smile that lasted for just a second it seemed. "Should do you good."
"Thanks." She grinned, instantly lifting the glass to her lips and downing the alcoholic beverage.
"Ren doll." Angel gave her a suggestive look, leaning in closer. “You know, I’ve been around the block a few times. I could show you things that would make your head spin. Not to mention, I’m pretty good at making people forget about their problems or, in your case, whatever that mark is on your neck.” His finger traced the air, stopping just short of the bruise-like stain that marred her skin. “Looks like someone had a little too much fun. Maybe I could help you forget all about it.”
Rennie didn’t flinch at his proximity. Instead, she met his gaze with a teasing glint in her eye. "So you're a problem solver now, huh? Offering to erase memories with your charms?" She tilted her head, her voice smooth but edged with a touch of amusement. "I think you’re giving yourself a little too much credit."
Angel chuckled, a low, melodic sound that resonated through the bar. “Honey, I’ve got plenty of credit to spare. The name’s Angel Dust, after all, and I’m practically famous around here for my talents. You’d be surprised at what I can do when I put my mind to it.” He leaned even closer, brushing his hand over her shoulder just lightly enough to send a shiver through the air. “What do you say? A little fun? Just the two of us. I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”
"Dusty baby... your acting like we're strangers." She hummed, leaning back on the stool she sat on so she could turn to face Angel, she leant over to him tilting her head up as she licked her lips. "But since your so...persistent why dont you remind me, hmm?"
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Warnings: fighting (training) and a mention of blood at the end.
She wasn’t intimidated by his stoic demeanor, his impressive power, or the green skin that seemed to glow under the sun. No, Y/N had a different kind of relationship with the Namekian warrior. They had trained together many times, but today’s training had an extra edge to it. The challenge had been set, and neither was going to back down.
Y/N wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, feeling the sting of her earlier mistake. “Alright, let’s try that again,” she said, her voice steady but with a hint of impatience.
Piccolo didn’t say anything in response, but his narrowed gaze was enough to let her know he wasn’t going to let her off easy.
Y/N had a tendency to be a little clumsy in her fights, often letting her eagerness get the better of her. It was a trait that had sometimes frustrated her mentors, but she never let it deter her. In fact, it was part of the reason she liked training with Piccolo—his no-nonsense attitude forced her to focus and refine her skills in ways she never thought possible.
"You think you can keep up with me today?" Piccolo finally asked, his deep voice cutting through the silence.
Y/N’s lips curled into a confident smile as she cracked her knuckles. “Just watch me.”
Piccolo remained quiet, his eyes studying her every move as she dropped into a fighting stance. He knew she had a lot of potential, especially as a Saiyan, but she could be reckless at times. Still, there was something about her that intrigued him—her tenacity, her spirit, her willingness to improve, no matter how many times she fell. She was a lot like him in that regard.
The moment of silence passed, and with a swift movement, Y/N lunged forward. Her legs carried her with a speed that belied her earlier clumsiness, and she threw a punch aimed directly at Piccolo’s midsection. But, as always, Piccolo was ready. He dodged effortlessly, his green form twisting away from her attack as though he anticipated it before it even began.
Y/N growled under her breath. “You’re too fast!”
Piccolo smirked, his tone calm. “You’re too predictable.”
She wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Y/N launched herself into another series of rapid punches, trying to overwhelm Piccolo with sheer speed. Her fists cut through the air, each strike aimed to land somewhere, anywhere on him. She wasn’t trying to hurt him—at least not too much—but she was hoping to land a clean hit. It wasn’t easy; Piccolo dodged and blocked with almost mechanical precision, his eyes never leaving her.
But for every move Y/N made, there was a mistake lurking in her technique, a small gap that Piccolo could exploit. He parried a wild punch, then swept his leg beneath hers, knocking her off balance. She fell to the ground with an ungraceful thud, but before she could hit the dirt, Piccolo had already jumped back to his starting position, standing tall and unbothered.
“Focus,” he called out to her, his tone a mix of patience and authority. “You can’t just throw punches and hope one lands. You need strategy.”
Y/N groaned as she sat up, brushing herself off. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Piccolo’s gaze softened for a brief moment, though his expression remained stern. “You’ve got power, Y/N. But you’re too reckless with it. Stop thinking with your fists. Think with your mind.”
She scowled, feeling the sting of his words. “I know that, Piccolo. I just… sometimes I get too excited.”
He nodded, his eyes still focused on her. “Excitement won’t win you battles. Precision will. Let me show you.”
Before Y/N could react, Piccolo’s hands shot forward in a series of rapid-fire energy blasts. They were fast and powerful, each blast a small but deadly projectile aimed at her. Y/N barely had time to react, her instincts kicking in as she scrambled to evade the blasts. She zipped to the left, then to the right, but a few blasts grazed her arm and side, leaving stinging burns. She hissed in pain but ignored it, using the pain to fuel her focus.
“Focus, Y/N!” Piccolo shouted, his voice unwavering.
Y/N didn’t have time to respond. Another barrage of energy blasts came her way, and she had no choice but to take them head-on. She clenched her fists, gathering her energy. A surge of power shot through her body, and with a determined yell, she formed a barrier of energy around herself. The blasts collided with her shield, and for a moment, the force was overwhelming. Y/N gritted her teeth, feeling the strain, but she held her ground.
Piccolo watched with a mix of respect and mild surprise. He hadn’t expected her to form a shield so quickly. But he wasn’t done yet. He flicked his hand, and the energy blasts ceased, leaving only a gust of wind in their wake.
Y/N lowered her shield and took a deep breath. “Not bad, huh?”
Piccolo didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he gave a small nod, acknowledging her effort. “Better. But don’t think that will be enough.”
With a sudden burst of speed, Piccolo vanished, reappearing directly in front of Y/N. His fist collided with her stomach before she could even react. The blow sent her tumbling backward, but she quickly flipped mid-air, landing on her feet. She coughed, her body already feeling the effects of the hit, but her Saiyan pride wouldn’t let her show weakness.
“That was a cheap shot,” she said with a wince, her voice laced with humor despite the pain.
Piccolo crossed his arms. “You were distracted. That’s your mistake.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes, brushing off the sting in her abdomen. “Alright, I get it. No more mistakes.”
“Good,” Piccolo replied, his voice even. “Now show me what you’ve really got.”
A fire lit in Y/N’s eyes, and she immediately charged again, this time using more control and precision. She wasn’t just flailing anymore; she was calculating, watching his movements, waiting for an opening. Her fists moved with purpose, each punch a deliberate attack. Her speed increased, and she began to anticipate Piccolo’s dodges, changing the angle of her strikes mid-motion.
Piccolo was forced to keep up with her, his eyes tracking every movement. She wasn’t as fast as him, but she was growing more and more unpredictable with each passing moment. He was impressed, though he’d never admit it aloud.
Y/N feinted a punch, then followed up with a roundhouse kick aimed at his head. Piccolo barely dodged it, but she wasn’t done. As he moved to counter, Y/N ducked under his arm, her fist connecting with his side in a sharp jab. It wasn’t a powerful hit, but it was enough to make him take a step back.
“That’s more like it,” Piccolo muttered, his voice showing the faintest hint of approval.
Y/N grinned, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get the better of him, but she wasn’t going to back down. Not today.
Piccolo’s eyes gleamed. “But you’re still sloppy.”
Y/N’s grin faltered slightly, but she didn’t let his words get to her. Instead, she shifted her weight and raised her energy. “Then I guess I’ll just have to get sloppier.”
The next moments passed in a blur. Piccolo and Y/N moved in a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and energy blasts. She was faster now, more confident, her moves more unpredictable. Her energy flared with the intensity of the fight, and she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her.
Despite her earlier blunders, she was beginning to realize the key to fighting Piccolo—control, precision, and patience. He was teaching her more than just how to fight; he was teaching her how to think, how to observe, and how to evolve in battle. Every time she made a mistake, she learned from it. Every time she got knocked down, she got back up stronger.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, both Piccolo and Y/N stood facing each other, breathing heavily. She was covered in dirt and sweat, her body sore from the battle, but she was grinning from ear to ear. This was the kind of training she thrived on—the kind that pushed her beyond her limits.
Piccolo gave her a brief nod, acknowledging her progress. “You’re getting better.”
Y/N smirked, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth. “Told you I could keep up.”
Piccolo didn’t reply, but there was a subtle shift in his posture—a sign of respect, though unspoken. As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction wash over her. She wasn’t perfect, and she knew she still had a long way to go, but with every fight, every training session, she was becoming stronger.
And with Piccolo as her mentor, she knew she was in good hands.
“Same time tomorrow?” Y/N asked, a playful challenge dripping from her tongue.
(Gokus daughter Gora aged 16 and Brolys son Kabon aged 17 are two OC dragon ball saiyans. Kabon is nonchalant and layed back and Gora is quick witted, somewhat cocky and easy to annoy. This is apart of a Dragon Ball series, none of the original Dragon Ball characters are mine only Gora belongs to me, Kabon belongs to @hj-png.)
When Kabon comforts Gora...
Word count: 296
Warnings: none
Gora was pacing back and forth, her usual confident swagger replaced with agitation. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her fiery eyes burned with frustration. "I can't believe it! I actually thought I had him!" she fumed, her voice sharp with anger. "That fight was mine! But no—I'm just not good enough, huh?"
Kabon sat under a tree nearby, casually tossing a stone into the air. He glanced at her, unfazed by her outburst. "You know, yelling about it won’t make you any stronger," he said, his tone as laid-back as ever.
Gora shot him a glare, her patience thin. "I’m not yelling, I’m venting! There’s a difference!" she snapped. "I trained for weeks, and it still wasn’t enough. I’ll never be as strong as—"
Kabon yawned, not even looking up from his stone. "As who? Your dad? That’s a tough bar to clear, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get there eventually."
Gora's frustration flickered with a brief pause. "I should be there already!" she muttered, her arms crossed.
With a lazy grin, Kabon finally stood up and walked over to her. "Look, you’ve got fire. I can see it in you. But fire needs fuel, right? So stop burning yourself out on one fight. There’s always next time. And trust me, you’ll keep getting stronger. Not because you want to, but because you will."
She rolled her eyes, trying to resist the comfort his calm demeanor offered. "You’re so... obnoxious."
Kabon smirked, giving her a playful nudge. "And you’re too hard on yourself. If you don’t get that, I’m gonna start calling you 'the Queen of Rage' instead."
Gora chuckled despite herself, the tension easing just a bit. "I hate that nickname," she muttered, but her mood lightened, just enough.
(Gokus daughter Gora aged 16 and Brolys son Kabon aged 17 are two OC dragon ball saiyans. Kabon is nonchalant and layed back and Gora is quick witted, somewhat cocky and easy to annoy. This is apart of a Dragon Ball series, none of the original Dragon Ball characters are mine only Gora belongs to me, Kabon belongs to @hj-png.)
Where Gora gets annoyed when Kabon teases her...
Word count: 391
Warnings: none
Gora dodged a lazy kick from Kabon and grinned, her confidence overflowing. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that if you want to hit me, Kabon,” she taunted, spinning out of the way of another attack.
Kabon smirked, watching her with half-lidded eyes, as if the whole thing was nothing more than a mild amusement. "Heh, sure, if you can keep up, shortstack."
Gora’s eyes narrowed, her quick wit instantly kicking in. "Shortstack? You sure you don’t mean 'weakling'?" she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she darted forward, throwing a punch aimed at his side.
Kabon leaned back, avoiding it easily. “Nah, I was talking about your height. You sure you’re not just a really enthusiastic kid in a grown-up’s body?” His chuckle was low and teasing, clearly enjoying getting under her skin.
Gora’s face flushed with irritation. “I’m not small!” She fired another punch, this time with a burst of energy behind it, her annoyance fueling her power. “I’m just… compact!”
Kabon dodged the blow with ease, his grin widening. “Compact? More like pocket-sized,” he teased, hopping back a few feet. “You sure you’re not still in your growth spurt phase?”
Gora growled, a flash of fiery anger in her eyes. “Don’t dare make fun of my height, Kabon!” Her ki flared up as she dashed toward him faster than before, throwing rapid punches and kicks with a newfound intensity.
Kabon’s smirk didn’t falter as he effortlessly sidestepped each strike. "Calm down, shorty. I didn’t mean anything by it," he teased, clearly enjoying the way she was getting more worked up by the second.
“Shut up! You’re just lucky I’m not really angry yet!” Gora snapped, her hair bristling with energy as she narrowed her eyes, trying to catch him in a clean hit.
Kabon tilted his head, casually lifting his hand to block one of her kicks with ease. "Oh, I dunno, Gora. Looks like you’re already angry enough to be dangerous."
Gora took a deep breath, her ki swirling around her as she prepared for a full-on attack. “I don’t need to be bigger to beat you. I’ll show you just how powerful I am,” she growled, her fists clenched tight. She was done with his teasing.
Kabon just smiled, clearly unbothered. "Alright, alright. Just don’t blow a fuse, tiny.”
Summary: on one of his nightly patrols he comes to sit on a rooftop where he flicks through memories of himself and Y/N, his love who was gone. Or was she?
Word count: 2830
Warnings: swearing.
Gotham was a dangerous city. Everybody knew that. It was dull, rundown, and full of rambunctious bandits, rogues, lowlifes—criminals. The worst of the worst lived in Gotham, and not a night went by where there would be peace. Arkham Asylum was where most criminals were sent—the really bad ones, the ones whose evil ran so deep that they put others in danger for their own twisted fun and games.
Above the city, on the ledge of a towering building, sat a broad-built figure, cloaked in the dim glow of Gotham’s failing streetlights. His head hung low, shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world pressed down on them. In his hands, he held a red metallic faceplate, the familiar mask that had become his symbol. Candy apple-colored eyes, once sharp and intense, now appeared sore and rimmed with a ring of red that circled his waterline. A single tear slipped free, landing on the metal mask with a soft, muted thud. He swiped at it absently, his gloved hand dragging beneath his nose as a quiet sniffle broke the silence.
This was Red Hood—the infamous antihero who once ruled Crime Alley and had now begun to roam the streets of Gotham. His armor, designed to withstand the worst Gotham could throw at him, could not protect him from the storm that raged inside. Beneath the mask, the armor, the hardened persona, was Jason Todd—just a young man, broken, in pain, and utterly lost without the comfort he once had.
A comfort that had been torn away from him.
In the stillness, fragments of the past flooded his mind, scenes that he replayed more often than he'd ever admit. The memories came swiftly, cutting through the cold Gotham night like a knife.
“Jason?!” Her voice echoed through his mind first. Soft but clear, like a bell in the fog. He could still picture her walking through the small apartment, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, the way her eyes—those brilliant Y/E/C eyes—would light up whenever she saw him. The creak of the door, the soft thud of her footsteps on the floor, and then her calling out again, more playful this time. “Baby?”
He could see it so vividly—the way he had turned toward her, his lips quirking up into that half-smile she loved. “Y/N/N,” he had replied, his voice warm despite the exhaustion that clung to him.
The duffel bag she carried slipped from her shoulder, landing on the floor with an audible thud, but her attention was entirely on him. He remembered her gaze as it swept over him, lingering on his slouched posture, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch while the other rested on his thigh, just above his knee. He’d been trying to look casual, like he hadn’t been missing her all day, but she could always see through him.
Without a word, her legs had carried her over to him. She stopped right in front of him, her bright eyes soft with affection. Jason had reached out, patting his thigh in invitation, and she had smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else fade away.
“Oh, Jaybird…” she had whispered as she climbed into his lap, her body draping across him almost horizontally. His arms had wrapped around her immediately, pulling her in as if he could keep her safe just by holding her close. He had kissed her forehead, once, twice, and then again, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I missed you.”
Her laughter had filled the room, light and melodic. “I think I missed you more, babygirl,” he had murmured, his voice low and full of that teasing affection she loved. His hand had cradled the back of her head, pressing her against his chest, and she had giggled, the sound vibrating against him. Times like that were the best, the moments when they didn’t have to hold their guard up, when they didn’t have to be vigilantes or fighters or survivors. They could just be Jason and Y/N.
He could still feel the warmth of her body against his, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms, as if the universe had designed them that way. She had been his solace, his peace in a world that was anything but.
But nothing in Gotham lasted forever, and happiness was the most fleeting thing of all.
Jason’s mind drifted back to the night they met. Y/N had been a rogue back then, laying low, doing her own thing. He’d caught wind of her while on patrol in his Red Hood gear. A newcomer stirring things up, not quite a villain but not exactly a hero either. She had intrigued him, the way she moved through Gotham’s underworld with purpose and precision. He hadn’t expected her to fight back when he finally confronted her.
But she had.
That punch had shattered more than just his mask—it had shattered his assumptions about her. One solid hit had cracked a piece of his faceplate, revealing one of his eyes beneath. For a split second, their gazes had locked—his sharp jade eyes meeting hers. The moment had stunned them both. He had felt it then, that electric pull, the raw attraction that surged through him like nothing he had ever experienced. And from that moment on, she had been in his head, under his skin.
And now, she was gone.
His chest tightened as the weight of reality settled back in. Y/N was gone. He had lost her in the cruelest way imaginable, ripped away before he had a chance to say goodbye, before he could protect her one last time.
The memories, once so vibrant, began to blur, and he was left with only the dull ache that accompanied her absence.
A faint sound behind him stirred him from his thoughts—quick, sharp footsteps slicing through the quiet. Instinctively, Jason tensed, his body reacting before his mind fully caught up. Someone was there.
Jason’s senses flared the moment the figure lunged at him, a blur of black against the dark skyline. Their impact hit like a freight train, the force of it driving the air from his lungs as they tumbled across the rooftop. His back slammed against the gritty surface, pain rippling through his ribs, but his instincts kicked in before his mind had time to process the shock. He raised his arms just in time to block a swift elbow aimed at his jaw.
The figure’s movements were sharp, surgical—no wasted motion, every strike aimed to disable or incapacitate. Jason’s muscles strained as he parried a rapid series of blows, his forearms absorbing the brunt of punches that felt like they were thrown by someone who knew his every move. He countered with a knee strike, but they twisted out of the way, fluid and fast, turning his own momentum against him. His balance faltered for a split second, enough time for his attacker to hook a leg around his and sweep him to the ground again.
“Damn it!” he growled, rolling with the fall, instinctively flipping back to his feet. His breath came in shallow bursts, his heart hammering in his chest. This wasn’t just some thug. This person—whoever they were—was fighting with the same ruthlessness, the same precision he used. Every move they made felt familiar, as if he was battling his own reflection.
Jason charged, closing the distance between them with a flurry of punches and a swift roundhouse kick, but the figure met him blow for blow, deflecting each strike with an eerie familiarity. A vicious jab to his ribs sent pain shooting through his side, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn't afford to.
They clashed again, their movements a deadly dance of speed and skill. The rooftop echoed with the sharp crack of fists and the scrape of boots against concrete. Jason grabbed his attacker's wrist, yanking them off balance, but the figure twisted with practiced ease, using his grip to pull him into a brutal headbutt. Stars exploded in his vision, and he stumbled back, shaking his head to clear the haze.
This was wrong. All of it was wrong. How could they fight like this? Like him?
He circled warily, his breath ragged, eyes scanning for any opening. The figure mirrored his movements, calm, calculated, as if anticipating his next move. And that’s when he saw it—a glint of something small and metallic, just beneath the collar of their shirt, briefly visible as they adjusted their stance.
A heart-shaped necklace, swaying slightly as they moved.
Jason’s focus sharpened, his eyes narrowing on the piece of jewelry. His next strike was deliberate, forcing the figure back just enough for him to see the necklace more clearly—a silver heart with an engraving, the letter J catching the dim light. His breath hitched, the world slowing around him as the truth slammed into him with a force more powerful than any punch.
His heart stopped.
No. It couldn’t be. But that necklace—he knew that necklace.
Time seemed to freeze as the figure stepped back, tilting their head ever so slightly, as if sensing his hesitation. Jason’s fists trembled, uncertainty flooding his veins. His mind raced back to years ago, back to a girl who wore that very necklace—a girl he thought he’d never see again.
“Y/N?” he whispered, the name escaping his lips before he could stop it.
The figure paused, their body still as stone. For a brief second, the chaos of the fight ebbed, and Jason saw it. In the way they held themselves, the way they moved—it wasn’t just the fighting style that was familiar. It was her.
“Y/N!” he called out, louder now, his voice cracking with equal parts disbelief and hope.
The figure straightened, and with a slow, deliberate motion, reached up to the edge of their mask. Jason’s breath caught in his throat as gloved fingers peeled away the black mask, revealing a face he thought had been lost to time.
Her eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Her expression was cold, hardened by the years, but the necklace, swinging gently against her chest, told the story neither of them needed to say.
It was her. Y/N.
Jason’s world tilted on its axis, the rooftop suddenly feeling too small, the night too quiet. The woman he once knew—the woman he once loved—was standing in front of him, and now, she was a weapon pointed right at him.
He could see the hesitation in her posture now. The rigid tension in her shoulders had loosened, her fists no longer clenched for another round. Her breathing was heavy, but not from exertion—no, this was something else. Confusion, maybe. Doubt.
“Who the fuck is Y/N?” she snapped, her voice colder than he’d ever heard it, a sharp edge to her tone. Her gaze pierced through him like she was demanding answers to questions she didn’t even know how to ask. But behind that, something flickered—a hesitation, a crack in her hardened exterior. It was subtle, but Jason caught it, and it twisted the knife in his chest even deeper.
“You are,” Jason said, his voice raw, barely keeping steady. He took a cautious step toward her, his hands lowered, palms facing her as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. “Y/N, it’s me. Jason.”
Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, something sparked behind them—something familiar. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by a cold, distant stare. She shook her head, taking a step back as if his words were dangerous.
“I don’t know who the hell you think I am,” she muttered, her tone biting, “but I’m not her.”
The words were like a punch to his gut. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as a mix of anger and desperation flared within him. How could she not remember? How could she forget everything they went through? He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breath, his mind racing for a way to break through to her.
“You don’t remember me?” Jason asked, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He stepped closer again, his eyes searching her face for any sign, any flicker of recognition. “You don’t remember us?”
She stared at him, her jaw clenched, her eyes flicking over him like she was trying to figure him out. For a moment, her gaze lingered on the way he stood, the subtle shift in his weight, the way he held himself. There was something there, buried deep within her, something that made her hesitate.
“No,” she finally said, but her voice wavered ever so slightly. “I don’t... I don’t know you.”
Jason’s heart broke a little more with each word, but he couldn’t stop now. He had to make her remember, had to find a way to bring her back. He took a deep breath, letting the emotions flood through him as he spoke.
“You’re Y/N.” His voice was steady now, filled with quiet determination. “We fought together. We survived together. You’re the one who kept me going when I thought everything was lost. We—” He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “We loved each other, Y/N.”
Her eyes flickered again, this time more noticeably. She looked away for a split second, as if trying to push something away, something clawing at the edges of her mind.
Jason’s heart pounded harder. There was a crack, a small one, but it was there. He could feel it. She wasn’t fighting him anymore—not like she was before. She couldn’t hurt him.
“Why... Why can’t I...” Her voice trailed off, her hand going to her temple, fingers pressing against her head like she was trying to force herself to remember, or maybe trying not to.
Jason moved in closer, his voice soft but filled with urgency. “It’s in there, Y/N. You can feel it, can’t you? There’s a part of you that knows I’m telling the truth. You don’t want to hurt me. I can see it. I can feel it.”
She looked at him again, her lips parting slightly, confusion swirling in her expression. Her hands trembled for a brief second before she clenched them into fists, shaking her head like she was trying to shake off the weight of his words.
“I... I don’t know you!” she insisted, but her voice was weaker now, cracking under the pressure of something she couldn’t explain. “I don’t know anything!”
Jason’s chest tightened at the sound of her breaking down, and for a brief moment, he saw the girl he once knew—the girl beneath the armor and confusion. He couldn’t let her slip away. Not again.
In a bold move, he stepped even closer, closing the distance between them until he was right in front of her. His hand hovered near her cheek, hesitating for only a second before he gently placed it against her skin. She flinched but didn’t pull away. Her eyes snapped to his, wide and searching.
“Y/N,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against her cheek in a touch so familiar it almost hurt him. “You used to hate it when I’d call you that when you were mad. You’d roll your eyes and make that face like you were too good for me. But you’d laugh. You always laughed.”
Her breath hitched, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes softened for just a heartbeat, her gaze trapped in his.
“Jason...” she whispered, barely audible, her voice shaking.
He froze, his heart thudding in his chest. She said his name. He saw it, felt it—a spark. But then, just as quickly as it came, her eyes darkened again, a shadow falling over her face. She jerked away from him, stepping back as if she’d been burned.
“No,” she muttered, her voice panicked now. “No. I can’t... I can’t be her.”
Jason’s hand dropped to his side, the moment slipping away, but he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, to keep reaching out to her. “You are her, Y/N. You can fight it, but you know deep down, you’re her. You just have to remember.”
She shook her head violently, turning away from him, her hands trembling as she clutched her head. “I don’t know who I am! I don’t know who you are! Leave me alone!”
But Jason wouldn’t let her run. He stepped forward, his voice firm but gentle. “I won’t. I won’t leave you. Not again. Not like this.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move, her back still to him, her breathing ragged. Jason stayed there, waiting, hoping. He knew this fight wasn’t over—not with her.
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Summary: back in the heiran era Y/N and Sukuna found each other but Y/N disappeared just as quickly. Now it's far in the future, a new era, but what was to come.
Word count: 1595
Warnings: none.
In the ancient era of the Heian Period, Ryomen Sukuna ruled over all with an iron fist. He was the undisputed King of Curses, feared by all who dared to cross his path. His power was legendary, his cruelty unmatched. The very mention of his name caused shudders of terror to ripple through the land. But there was one person who had not feared him—one person whose presence softened the jagged edges of his monstrous soul. Y/N Y/L/N.
Y/N was a mystery, a wanderer who had appeared one fateful day in Sukuna’s life, completely oblivious to the terror he commanded. She had stumbled into his domain, her life fragile and flickering, yet her spirit unyielding. For reasons even Sukuna couldn’t explain, he had spared her, kept her by his side instead of obliterating her as he had done to so many before. Over time, their bond deepened, and for the first time, the King of Curses felt something strange, something foreign—a tenderness that gnawed at the darkness in his heart.
But just as quickly as she had appeared, Y/N vanished, slipping from his grasp without a trace. The years that followed were filled with rage, frustration, and a hollowness that Sukuna could never fill. His wrath grew more terrifying, his cruelty more sadistic, all because the one person who had brought him any semblance of peace was gone. Eventually, Sukuna was defeated, executed by the combined forces of Japan’s most powerful sorcerers, but even as his body was sealed, his mind lingered on Y/N.
He never forgot her.
Centuries later, Sukuna awoke in the body of a boy named Yuji Itadori. The world had changed—its people, its culture, and its technology—but the dark, brooding anger that swirled within Sukuna remained the same. Itadori was nothing more than a vessel, a container for Sukuna's immense power. In this new world, Sukuna sought nothing but the restoration of his former strength, eager to reign over the weak and claim his place as the King of Curses once again.
But something unexpected happened.
As Sukuna adapted to this unfamiliar time, bound to the whims of the young and surprisingly resilient Yuji, he began to notice an eerie familiarity. A presence, almost imperceptible at first, haunted his senses like a whisper from a past he had long tried to bury. For weeks, it was nothing more than a feeling—a fleeting sensation of déjà vu. But one day, while Itadori was on a mission with his comrades, Sukuna sensed it clearly, an unmistakable tug in the pit of his soul.
It was Y/N.
The air was heavy with the scent of rain as Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, and Nobara Kugisaki approached an abandoned shrine in the heart of Tokyo. The sky was dark, thick clouds rumbling with the threat of a storm. The mission had been simple enough—exorcise a low-level curse that had been terrorizing the area. But the closer they got to the shrine, the more uneasy Itadori felt.
Suddenly, Sukuna stirred within him, more forceful than ever before.
"Itadori," Sukuna’s voice dripped with an uncharacteristic urgency, “stop.”
"What? Why?" Itadori muttered, confused by the sudden demand.
"Stop moving. There’s something here… something I need to see."
Despite his better judgment, Itadori hesitated, coming to a halt as the others glanced back at him, perplexed.
“Is something wrong?” Fushiguro asked, his brows furrowed in suspicion.
But Itadori’s focus was inward, grappling with the sudden shift in Sukuna’s demeanor. The curse had never been like this—never this intense, this… frantic.
Before he could respond, the air in front of them shimmered. The faint outline of a figure emerged from the shadows, bathed in the dim light of the setting sun. A woman, her silhouette familiar in ways that sent chills down Itadori’s spine.
She stepped into the light, her form becoming clearer, and Sukuna—locked deep within the confines of his vessel—felt the earth shatter beneath him.
It was her. It was Y/N.
Sukuna’s heart, if such a thing still existed in that hollow chest of his, slammed against his ribs. He had convinced himself that Y/N was gone, lost to time like the rest of his ancient past. Yet here she stood, in the same flesh, the same soft features that had once haunted his dreams. Her eyes, wide and confused, scanned the group before landing on Itadori.
On him.
On Sukuna.
"Who are you?" Nobara asked, her voice steady, though tinged with wariness.
The woman’s gaze never left Itadori, and Sukuna knew she recognized him—or rather, what was inside of him. It was as if she could see through the boy, beyond the surface, and into the dark pit where Sukuna's soul resided.
Y/N’s voice trembled when she finally spoke, “Ryomen... Sukuna?”
The sound of her voice—it was like a knife twisting in his chest. How many years had passed? How was she still here? How could she still be alive?
Itadori could feel Sukuna’s overwhelming surge of emotions, emotions that he had never associated with the malevolent curse. For once, the King of Curses wasn’t angry, wasn’t vengeful—he was something else. Shocked? Unsettled?
Sukuna forced himself to the surface, taking control of Itadori’s body with a wave of energy that made the boy's companions stumble back.
"Sukuna!" Fushiguro growled, his fists clenching in preparation for a fight.
But Sukuna wasn’t interested in them. His eyes were fixed on Y/N, his gaze sharp and disbelieving as he towered over her, standing in a body that wasn’t truly his.
“How are you here?” Sukuna’s voice was low, dangerous, yet laced with something akin to wonder. “You should be dead. Long dead.”
Y/N’s eyes were wide, brimming with the weight of centuries of memories. She stepped forward, her face pale but resolute, as if searching for some remnant of the man she had once known within the demon now inhabiting a stranger’s body.
“I—I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice fragile, trembling. “I don’t know how I’m here. One day I was in your time, and the next… everything was different. I’ve been searching for answers, for you… ever since.”
Sukuna’s expression hardened, though his emotions swirled chaotically beneath the surface. His memories of Y/N—of the years they had spent together—came rushing back, vivid and raw. She had been the only person to ever see him as something other than a monster, and it had driven him mad when she disappeared.
He had scoured the earth, razed villages, and destroyed kingdoms, all in a vain attempt to find her, to reclaim what had been taken from him. Yet, even in his most vicious moments, he had never imagined she would be here—in this time, in this world.
"You left," Sukuna growled, the bitterness in his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You vanished without a trace. Why?"
Y/N’s face twisted in pain as she tried to piece together the fragmented memories of her past. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t even remember what happened. One moment I was with you, and the next… everything was gone. I was alone. I’ve been alone for centuries.”
Her words hit Sukuna harder than he expected. Centuries. She had been alive all this time, wandering a world that had forgotten her. The thought of her suffering, of her searching for him while he had been sealed away, ignited something deep within him—a fury that had nothing to do with curses or power.
"Why didn’t you come for me sooner?" Sukuna’s voice was dangerously low, but there was an undercurrent of desperation in it.
Y/N shook her head, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I didn’t know where to look. I didn’t know if you were even alive. I’ve been trying—trying to find you, to understand why I’m still here, why I haven’t aged or died.”
For the first time in his long, violent existence, Sukuna found himself at a loss for words. The King of Curses, the monster that had terrorized the Heian era, stood frozen in the face of something he had never known how to confront—vulnerability. Y/N was the only person who had ever made him feel anything beyond the lust for power and destruction, and now, centuries later, she stood before him, just as broken as he was.
In a rare moment of clarity, Sukuna released his grip on Itadori’s body, allowing the boy to regain control. Itadori stumbled, gasping for air, his eyes wide in confusion as he tried to process what had just happened.
But Y/N’s gaze never left Sukuna, even as Itadori looked at her with bewilderment. She knew who she was speaking to, even if the body was not his own.
“Ryomen,” she whispered, her voice soft and aching. “I never stopped searching for you.”
Itadori, still recovering from the sudden loss of control, glanced between Y/N and his comrades, unsure of what to do. But before he could say anything, Y/N stepped closer, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch Itadori’s chest—Sukuna’s chest.
“I don’t know why fate has brought us here,” she murmured, her fingers ghosting over Itadori’s shirt as if she were trying to reach the man buried beneath. “But I’ve been waiting for this moment for longer than I can remember.”
And for the first time in centuries, Sukuna—the King of Curses, the most feared being to have ever walked the earth—felt something other than rage. It was the faintest glimmer of hope, a small flicker in the endless darkness that consumed him.
Summary: where Y/N and Jason stay content with the moment of peace they have. Reference to the song 'chasing cars' by snow patrol.
Word count: 1740
Warnimg: none.
The night was still, the kind of stillness that wrapped the Gotham skyline in a shroud of peace rarely afforded to the restless city. Moonlight filtered through the tall windows of an old apartment building, casting silver shadows that danced across the floor of a dimly lit room. In this serene atmosphere sat Y/N Y/L/N, her legs curled up beneath her on the couch, bathed in the glow of her laptop screen. The gentle hum of the city outside was a far cry from the chaos it so often descended into. Here, in this moment, it felt like time had slowed down, as though she had found a sliver of tranquility in a place that hardly ever knew it.
Yet the silence felt incomplete.
Her eyes drifted toward the balcony door, slightly ajar to allow the cool night air to sweep in. It brought with it a familiar smell, the scent of rain threatening in the distance, a reminder of just how fleeting peace could be in Gotham. But tonight wasn’t about the weather, or the chaos lurking beyond her apartment. Tonight, her mind was on him—Jason Todd.
Jason was not someone easily forgotten. The first time they had met, Y/N had been struck by how much of a contradiction he was. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled her in despite her initial resistance. His smirk was reckless, his voice a mix of sarcasm and grit, but behind that rough exterior, Y/N had glimpsed a vulnerability that he kept buried beneath layers of trauma. Jason was a storm—unpredictable, dangerous, but also mesmerizing.
They had never been the type for grand gestures, nor had they needed to be. Their connection was built in the quiet moments between the chaos, in the fleeting instances where neither of them had to fight against the world. Jason, despite his vigilante persona as the Red Hood, always found time to seek her out, to collapse into her apartment in the dead of night when Gotham became too heavy for him to bear alone.
And tonight, Y/N knew he was coming.
The faint sound of a grappling hook catching on the railing outside reached her ears, and her heart skipped. A soft thud followed as Jason landed on her balcony, barely making a sound, the shadow of his figure looming just beyond the sliding glass door. She didn’t have to look to know it was him. There was a certain calm that filled her when Jason was near, even when he brought the weight of his world with him.
The door slid open a moment later, and there he stood, clad in his usual black jacket, the hood pulled down as his helmet dangled loosely in his grip. His dark hair was a mess from the night’s work, and there was an exhaustion in his eyes that she knew too well. He always came to her when he had nowhere else to go, when his war with Gotham’s criminals had left him raw and vulnerable.
“Hey,” Jason’s voice broke the quiet, low and rough around the edges, as if even speaking cost him energy tonight.
“Hey,” Y/N replied softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. She set her laptop aside, uncurling from her spot on the couch as she stood to meet him.
Jason kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot before he made his way over to her, each step heavy, deliberate. Without a word, Y/N stepped closer, her arms instinctively wrapping around his waist as his arms draped around her shoulders. For a moment, they stood in silence, holding each other. Jason exhaled slowly, as though simply being in her presence allowed him to let go of the tension he carried like armor.
The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that no words were necessary to convey what they felt. It was moments like these—quiet, intimate, and real—that made everything else fade away. With Jason, Y/N had learned that not every connection needed to be defined or labeled, that sometimes just being there for someone, offering them a place where they could let their guard down, was enough.
“Rough night?” she asked quietly, her cheek resting against his chest.
Jason let out a humorless chuckle, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “When is it not?”
Y/N pulled back slightly to look up at him, her eyes scanning his face, searching for signs of whatever weight he was carrying this time. His jaw was clenched, tension radiating from him in waves, but his eyes—their usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion—softened as he looked at her. He never said much about what haunted him. She knew the broad strokes of his life, of the brutality he had suffered and the way it had shaped him into the man he was now. But the details? Those he kept locked away.
“Come on,” Y/N said, taking his hand and leading him over to the couch. “You look like you could use a break.”
Jason didn’t protest, letting her guide him without a word. He sat down heavily, the weight of his night pulling at his shoulders as he slouched against the cushions. Y/N followed, sitting close beside him, her hand still entwined with his. For a while, they sat like that, the only sound in the room the steady rhythm of their breathing.
If I lay here… If I just lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
The lyrics played softly in her mind, echoing the sentiment they often found themselves in. Jason was the kind of person who chased after everything—revenge, redemption, justice—but never seemed to catch the peace he so desperately needed. And yet, here with her, in these moments, it was like they were both finally able to just stop running. To stop fighting.
“I could stay like this,” Jason murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was barely a whisper, like he wasn’t sure he wanted her to hear.
Y/N’s heart ached at the words. She knew what he meant. There was a part of him that was always looking for an escape, always looking for a reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be the man he’d become. That he didn’t have to live in the shadow of the Bat, or under the weight of his resurrection. But life wasn’t that simple, and both of them knew it.
“I know,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand. “I could too.”
Jason turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes filled with something that was neither love nor longing, but something in between. It was the look of a man who didn’t know how to express the depth of his feelings, who didn’t know how to ask for what he needed. Y/N had seen that look so many times, and every time, it broke her heart just a little more.
Without saying a word, she reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering against his skin. Jason closed his eyes at the touch, leaning into it as though it was the only thing anchoring him to this world.
“You don’t always have to fight,” she whispered, her voice gentle, like a soft breeze on a summer night. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Jason.”
His eyes opened, searching hers for a moment, as though he was trying to find the strength to believe her. But Jason had been fighting for so long that he didn’t know how to stop. He didn’t know how to let go.
“I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted, his voice raw, vulnerable in a way that he rarely allowed himself to be.
Y/N shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to figure it out alone.”
For a moment, Jason didn’t say anything. He simply sat there, staring at the far wall as though the answer to all his problems was hidden in the peeling paint. But there was no answer, no easy fix for the life he led. All he had was the here and now, and the woman sitting beside him, offering him a lifeline he didn’t think he deserved.
But maybe, just maybe, he could let himself have this one thing.
Jason leaned his head against hers, closing his eyes again. “If I stay…if I stop…” His words trailed off, the unspoken fear lingering in the air between them.
Y/N knew what he was trying to say. He was afraid that if he stopped, if he allowed himself to let go, the pain, the anger, the guilt—it would all catch up to him, and he wouldn’t know how to handle it. But what Jason didn’t realize was that he didn’t have to face it alone. He had her.
“If you stop, I’ll still be here,” she said softly. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Her words were simple, but they carried a weight that made Jason’s chest tighten. He wasn’t used to having someone who cared for him like this, who saw beyond the mask he wore and loved him anyway. It scared him, how much he needed her, how much he relied on these quiet moments to keep him sane.
But tonight, under the soft glow of the moonlight, with the city sleeping below them, Jason decided to let himself believe her. Just for tonight, he would let himself stop chasing the ghosts of his past and allow himself to simply be.
So they lay there, side by side, in the stillness of the room. The world outside continued to spin, but for Jason and Y/N, time had slowed down, allowing them this brief moment of peace. They didn’t need to talk about the future or what came next. All they needed was this—the quiet, the comfort, and the promise that neither of them had to face the darkness alone.
And for once, Jason didn’t feel the need to chase anything. Not the stars, not revenge, and not his demons. For once, he was content to just be here, with her, forgetting the world.
Summary: after being away from home for over five months, simon comes home to find more than a surprise waiting for him.
Word count: 1630
Warnings: none.
The hum of helicopter blades faded into silence as Simon "Ghost" Riley stepped onto the tarmac. After five long months of covert missions, intense training, and countless sleepless nights, he was finally home. But as he looked around, a familiar ache settled in his chest. Home—what did that even mean anymore? The streets of his small town felt both comforting and foreign, and he found himself longing for the warmth of his wife, Y/N.
As he approached his modest home, the memories flooded back: laughter echoing through the hallways, quiet moments spent in each other's arms, and the promise they had made to wait for each other, no matter how long it took. The door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out, beckoning him inside.
With a deep breath, Simon pushed the door open. The scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with a hint of something sweet. He stepped into the living room, his heart pounding with anticipation. But as he moved toward the kitchen, he halted, his breath catching in his throat.
Y/N was there, her back turned to him, stirring something in a pot. Her hair cascaded down her back, and she wore one of his old sweatshirts. The sight of her made his heart swell. She turned at the sound of the door, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“Simon?” Her voice trembled, a mix of joy and shock.
“Y/N,” he managed, taking a step forward. But before he could reach her, he noticed the small bundle cradled in her arms. Confusion surged through him as he stared at the baby boy, whose tiny features were a mix of both parents. “What…?” His voice trailed off, disbelief swirling in his mind.
“This is Adrian,” she said softly, tears glistening in her eyes. “Our son.”
The weight of her words crashed down on him like a tidal wave. “What? No, that’s impossible. I was gone for five months.” His heart raced, and panic began to set in. “How… how could this be?”
Y/N stepped closer, determination in her eyes. “I know this is a shock, but he’s yours, Simon. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I wanted you to see him—to meet him.”
Simon shook his head, grappling with the reality of what she was saying. “I don’t believe you. How do I know he’s mine?”
Her expression shifted to one of hurt, but she remained calm. “I have the paternity test results,” she said, reaching for a nearby drawer. She retrieved an envelope, her hands trembling slightly as she handed it to him.
Simon opened the envelope, his heart pounding as he scanned the paper. The bold letters confirmed what he had never expected to read: Adrian Riley was his son. Yet disbelief still coursed through him. “This doesn’t make sense. I missed everything… How could you not tell me?”
Y/N’s face fell, a mixture of pain and understanding. “I wanted to wait until you were home. I didn’t want to burden you while you were out there, fighting for our safety. But I also didn’t want to be alone. When I found out I was pregnant, it changed everything for me.”
“But you could have waited!” Simon’s voice rose, the frustration bubbling over. “You could have told me. I needed to know!”
Tears slipped down Y/N’s cheeks as she stepped closer, cradling Adrian protectively. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought you would want to focus on your mission without the added weight of this news.”
“Protecting me?” he repeated, his tone softening as he glanced at the baby. Adrian cooed, his little fingers reaching out, seemingly sensing the tension in the room. “This… this is too much.”
Y/N took a deep breath, steadiness returning to her voice. “I understand it’s overwhelming. But please, just hold him. You’ll see how real this is.”
Simon hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at him. “What if I’m not ready for this? What if I screw it up?”
She took another step forward, a mixture of love and desperation in her eyes. “You don’t have to do it alone. We’ll figure it out together.”
Finally, he nodded, his heart pounding. Y/N gently placed Adrian into his arms. The weight of the child felt both foreign and familiar. As Simon looked down at the tiny face, a rush of emotion flooded him. Adrian had his dirty blonde hair and, if he squinted, he could see the resemblance in the shape of his jaw.
“This is… incredible,” Simon murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
Y/N smiled, wiping her tears away. “He’s waiting for you, Simon. He needs you just as much as I do.”
As Simon cradled Adrian, he felt a connection begin to form, an undeniable bond that stretched beyond the confines of disbelief. But the doubts lingered like shadows in the corners of his mind. Could he truly be the father this child deserved?
The days that followed were a whirlwind of new experiences. Simon struggled to adjust to fatherhood, often caught off guard by the demands of a newborn. Y/N was patient and supportive, guiding him through the challenges of diaper changes, midnight feedings, and the overwhelming joy of witnessing Adrian’s milestones.
Yet, Simon’s past weighed heavily on him. He found himself haunted by memories of his time in combat, the horrors he had witnessed lingering at the edges of his mind. On particularly difficult nights, he would wake in a cold sweat, heart racing, fear gripping him. Y/N would soothe him back to sleep, her presence a comforting balm.
One evening, after a particularly long day, Simon sat in the nursery, rocking Adrian in his arms. The soft glow of the nightlight cast a warm hue across the room, and the baby’s gentle coos filled the air. As he looked down at Adrian, the realization of his role as a father began to settle into his bones. This was his mission now—protecting this child, nurturing him, and providing the love he had once feared he might not be able to give.
“Adrian,” he whispered, testing the name on his tongue. It felt right, like a missing piece finally falling into place. “You’re my son.”
Y/N appeared in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the light from the hallway. She watched him with a soft smile, her heart swelling at the sight of her husband bonding with their child. “You’re doing great, Simon,” she encouraged, stepping inside.
Simon looked up, meeting her gaze. “I want to be a good father. I want to be there for both of you.”
“You already are,” Y/N replied, her voice thick with emotion. “You just need to trust yourself.”
As the weeks turned into months, Simon found a rhythm. He immersed himself in the role of a father, and with each passing day, he became more attuned to Adrian’s needs. The baby’s laughter was a melody that played in his heart, a sound that lifted his spirits. He marveled at every tiny milestone, from the first time Adrian rolled over to the moment he began to crawl.
Yet, even amidst the joy, Simon still grappled with the weight of his past. Sometimes, in quiet moments, memories would rush back—flashbacks of chaos, gunfire, and loss. On those days, he struggled to shake the shadows, but Y/N remained his anchor, reminding him of the light that had returned to his life.
One evening, after putting Adrian to bed, Simon and Y/N sat on the porch, the stars twinkling above them. The air was crisp, filled with the scents of autumn leaves and the distant sound of laughter from neighbors. They shared stories, dreams, and fears, their connection deepening as they navigated this new chapter together.
“I never thought I’d be here,” Simon confessed, gazing at the sky. “I always imagined myself on missions, living in the shadows. But now…” He paused, looking at Y/N. “This feels right.”
Y/N smiled softly, reaching for his hand. “You fought for this, Simon. You earned this life, and you’re meant to be here.”
As they talked, Simon’s heart began to feel lighter. He realized that while his past would always be a part of him, it didn’t have to define his future. He could choose to embrace the love and joy that Adrian and Y/N brought into his life.
Days turned into months, and with each passing moment, the bond between Simon and Adrian grew stronger. They would spend afternoons in the park, Simon pushing the stroller while Y/N walked alongside them. Simon reveled in the way Adrian would giggle at the sound of birds chirping, his laughter infectious.
One sunny Saturday, as they were having a picnic in the backyard, Simon looked at his wife and son, his heart swelling with pride. Adrian was crawling toward a pile of leaves, reaching out with tiny hands, laughter bubbling from his lips.
“Look at him go,” Y/N said, her eyes shining. “He’s going to be trouble!”
Simon chuckled, feeling a sense of purpose he had never known. “Trouble is what I do best,” he replied, his voice playful. “But I’ll make sure to keep him in line.”
As Adrian explored the world around him, Simon felt a profound sense of gratitude. This was what he had fought for—not just the missions and the battles, but the life he was building with his family. Each moment was precious, a reminder of the resilience of love.
But the shadows of his past still lingered, sometimes creeping in during quiet moments. Simon knew he had to confront them if he wanted to fully embrace this new life. This was his home. His family. It was where he belonged all along.
Summary: when Y/N comes back from a night out drunk, konig is there to look after her.
Word count: 1567
Warnings: none?
The city lights flickered like a thousand tiny stars as Y/N stumbled out of the bustling nightclub. The air was crisp and cool, a stark contrast to the heat of the packed dance floor she had just left. Her vision swam as she tried to navigate the sidewalk, her steps uneven and unsteady. The world around her felt disjointed, like she was walking through a dream, each movement tinged with the haze of too much alcohol.
The night had started with laughter and music, a chance to unwind after a grueling week of operations. But somewhere between the second and third drink, the fun had blurred into something more disorienting. Her usual confidence had dissolved into a mix of reckless abandon and unsteady nerves.
As she made her way down the quiet street towards the base, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fumbled for it, trying to make sense of the incoming messages from her teammates. A text from König stood out among the others, a reminder of their earlier plans to meet up at the bar after she finished her rounds. König, the tall and reserved member of the team, was known for his patience and unwavering sense of duty. Y/N had always admired his calm demeanor, but tonight, she was more focused on making it back to the base in one piece.
It was late when she arrived at the base's entrance. The security lights flickered softly, casting long shadows across the pavement. With a final, unsteady push, Y/N managed to open the door and stagger inside. The base’s familiar, sterile environment was a welcome contrast to the chaos of the night, but her unsteady steps made the journey to the common room a challenge.
König was already waiting in the common room, his large frame easily visible as he stood by the window, gazing out into the night. He had been concerned when Y/N hadn’t shown up as planned, and his unease grew with each passing minute. The dim light from the lamp cast soft shadows on his face, revealing the furrowed brow and the tight grip of his hands on the windowsill.
As the door creaked open, König turned to see Y/N stumbling into the room, her steps erratic and her eyes unfocused. His initial concern deepened into a mix of worry and resolve. He quickly crossed the room, his large, imposing figure moving with surprising agility.
“Y/N?” König’s voice was gentle, but there was an unmistakable edge of concern. He reached out, steadying her with a firm but careful grip on her arm. “Are you alright?”
Y/N’s eyes struggled to focus on him, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of his presence. “König…” she slurred, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to be late.”
König’s expression softened, though his worry was evident. “It’s alright. Let’s get you somewhere comfortable. You’re not in a good state.”
He guided her to the couch, his hands steady as he helped her lower herself onto the cushions. Y/N sank into the seat with a sigh, the room tilting slightly as she tried to steady her thoughts. König moved to the kitchenette, quickly grabbing a glass of water and a few aspirin. He returned to her side and handed her the glass.
“Drink this,” he instructed softly, placing the glass in her trembling hands. “It’ll help with the hangover.”
Y/N took the glass with shaky fingers, trying to sip the water slowly. Her head was throbbing, and the effects of the alcohol were taking their toll. She glanced up at König, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
König sat down beside her, his large frame taking up a considerable amount of space on the couch. He kept a respectful distance, but his presence was calming. “You’re not causing trouble, Schatz. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Y/N leaned back against the couch, her body sinking into the cushions. She felt the warmth of König’s presence beside her, a comforting anchor in the swirling chaos of her thoughts. Her emotions were raw, the alcohol amplifying her feelings of loneliness and insecurity. She let out a small, unsteady sigh, her head resting against the back of the couch.
As she tried to regain her composure, her thoughts turned towards König. She had always admired his strength and patience, but tonight, his presence felt more personal, more intimate. The warmth of his hand on her shoulder, the softness of his voice—it all combined to create a sense of safety she hadn’t realized she needed until now.
König, for his part, was focused on making sure Y/N was comfortable. He had seen the toll that stress and alcohol could take, and he was determined to ensure that she felt supported. He kept a watchful eye on her, his concern evident in the gentle way he spoke and the careful way he adjusted the blanket he draped over her shoulders.
“I’ll stay here with you,” König said softly, his voice a soothing balm. “You’re not alone.”
Y/N managed a weak smile, her eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion of the night began to catch up with her. She felt a surge of gratitude towards König, her earlier feelings of defiance replaced by a deep sense of relief. The alcohol-induced haze made it difficult to think clearly, but the steady presence of König was a grounding force.
As the night wore on, König remained by her side, his patience unwavering. He occasionally checked on her, making sure she had enough water and that she was as comfortable as possible. His attentiveness was a stark contrast to the wildness of the night, and it helped to calm Y/N’s racing thoughts.
Despite his stoic demeanor, König’s concern was palpable. He had seen his share of rough nights, both his own and those of his teammates. But seeing Y/N in this state stirred a protective instinct within him. He wanted to ensure that she felt safe and supported, even in the midst of her vulnerability.
At one point, Y/N shifted restlessly on the couch, her movements clumsy and uncertain. König adjusted the blanket around her, his hands gentle as he tucked it around her shoulders. He remained close, his presence a constant reassurance as she tried to find a comfortable position.
Y/N’s head lolled slightly as she tried to focus on König. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but there was a sincerity in her words. “I’m really sorry, König. I didn’t mean for any of this.”
König’s expression softened, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “There’s nothing to apologize for. We all have our moments. What matters is that you’re safe now.”
Y/N nodded, her eyes closing as sleep began to overtake her. The warmth of the blanket and the steady presence of König were comforting, and she felt a sense of peace settling over her. Her breathing slowed, her body relaxing into the couch as she drifted off into a restless but much-needed sleep.
König remained by her side, his gaze shifting between Y/N and the clock on the wall. He knew that she would need time to recover, and he was prepared to be there for her every step of the way. His thoughts were a mixture of concern and resolve, his protective instincts at the forefront as he watched over her.
The night wore on in a quiet vigil, with König maintaining his watchful presence. The occasional creak of the base and the distant hum of machinery were the only sounds breaking the silence. König’s thoughts were focused on Y/N, his mind replaying the events of the night and the importance of ensuring her well-being.
As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, König’s watchful eyes remained fixed on Y/N. He could see the signs of restfulness in her expression, a stark contrast to the earlier turmoil. The night had been a test of patience and empathy, and König had faced it with a quiet strength that spoke volumes about his character.
When Y/N finally stirred, the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the room. She opened her eyes slowly, her head still heavy but the fog of alcohol beginning to lift. Her gaze met König’s, and she offered a groggy but genuine smile.
“Good morning,” she said softly, her voice still hoarse. “Thank you for staying with me.”
König gave her a reassuring nod, his expression warm and understanding. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
Y/N took a moment to assess herself, her thoughts clearer now that the alcohol had worn off. “A lot better, thanks. I’m sorry again for the trouble.”
König shook his head, a gentle smile on his lips. “There’s no need to apologize, Schatz. It’s part of being a team—looking out for each other, no matter the circumstances.”
Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of gratitude for König’s support. She sat up carefully, the remnants of her hangover still present but manageable. König helped her to her feet, his presence a steadying force as she found her balance.
Summary: when the task force have had a long mission and need some well needed rest they decide to relax away at base but not without a little amusement.
Word count: 1566
Warnings: none?
The moon cast a silver glow over the desolate landscape as Task Force 141 trudged back to their base, exhausted but triumphant. The mission had been long, grueling, and fraught with unexpected twists, but they had succeeded in their objective. Now, they were returning home, their once pristine uniforms now smeared with mud and blood, the marks of their labor.
Y/N, was leading the way, her boots crunching against the gravel of the path leading to the base. Her hair was tousled, and her face was streaked with dirt and exhaustion, but her spirit remained undiminished. “Seriously, did we have to spend half the night hunting down that rogue operative?” she grumbled, casting a sidelong glance at Ghost, who was walking beside her.
Ghost, his face concealed by his mask, simply shrugged. “That’s what we do. Find the bad guys and make sure they don’t get away.”
“Yeah, but couldn’t we have had a less complicated mission? Maybe something involving less running and more relaxing?” Y/N replied with a sarcastic edge.
Soap, who was a few steps ahead, laughed, turning back to face them. “What, you mean like a vacation? We’ve been over this, Y/N. We don’t do vacations.”
“Right, because that would be too easy,” Y/N shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Instead, let’s do something that involves getting shot at and blowing stuff up.”
Price, the team leader, had been quietly listening to the banter. He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the horizon. “We’re almost there. Just a bit further and we can drop this gear and get some much-needed rest.”
The team pushed on, their fatigue making each step feel heavier, but their shared camaraderie keeping them motivated. When they finally reached the base, the contrast between the harsh night outside and the warm, inviting interior was palpable. The base was lit with a soft glow from overhead lights, and the hum of the heater provided a comforting background noise.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, the team began to shed their gear. Y/N tossed her tactical vest onto a nearby chair with a resigned sigh. “I swear, if I ever see another assault rifle, I’m going to lose it.”
Ghost, who was methodically removing his gear, chuckled softly. “You say that every time. Give it a week, and you’ll be itching for the next mission.”
“Yeah, well, don’t remind me,” Y/N said, flopping down onto the couch with a loud thud. “Right now, I’m all about the relaxation.”
Soap, ever the cheerful soul, grinned as he flopped down beside her, sprawling out with a contented sigh. “Now that’s more like it. No more dodging bullets for the next few hours.”
Price, taking a seat in a nearby armchair, nodded in agreement. “Let’s take advantage of this downtime. We earned it.”
The base’s common area was a cozy, albeit slightly cluttered, space. There were a few worn couches, a coffee table strewn with old magazines, and a small kitchenette in the corner. The room exuded an air of lived-in comfort, a stark contrast to the sterile, high-tech environment of the rest of the base.
Y/N leaned back into the couch, her legs stretched out and her arms folded behind her head. “You know, I was thinking,” she said, looking around at her teammates, “we should really start planning something fun for once. Maybe a team outing or something?”
Ghost raised an eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell through his mask. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”
“Bowling,” Y/N said with a straight face. “Or maybe laser tag. Something where we can all be terrible at it together.”
Soap chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad. I haven’t been bowling in years.”
Price leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Bowling, huh? I’d love to see Ghost’s form on the lanes.”
“I’ll have you know,” Ghost interjected with a rare hint of defensiveness, “that I have impeccable aim.”
Y/N snorted. “Impeccable aim in a combat situation, maybe. But I bet you’d struggle with a bowling ball.”
“I’d like to see you try to beat me,” Ghost replied, the hint of a challenge in his voice.
Y/N’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Alright, it’s a deal. But be warned, I’m a force to be reckoned with when it comes to recreational sports.”
Soap raised his hand, as if taking an oath. “I’m in. But we need to add laser tag to the mix. I want to see Y/N try to outshoot Ghost.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Y/N said, her voice full of competitive spirit. “You’ll be eating my dust, Ghost.”
As the conversation flowed, the team’s laughter filled the room. The tension of the mission seemed to dissolve as they reveled in each other’s company. Price, with his usual calm demeanor, joined in the banter, his laughter a warm sound that added to the sense of camaraderie.
Y/N turned to Soap, who was now lounging comfortably on the couch beside her. “Remember that time we were stuck in that warehouse for hours because of a broken radio? We ended up using our tactical gear to play a game of hide-and-seek.”
Soap grinned, his eyes sparkling with recollection. “Oh man, I remember that. You were so sure you had the perfect hiding spot, but Roach found you in less than five minutes.”
“That was because he cheated!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing her hands up in mock outrage. “He used the thermal goggles to find me. Totally unfair.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault you decided to hide in plain sight,” Roach, who had been silently observing from the corner, said with a smirk. “You should have known better.”
Ghost, still removing his gear, shook his head. “You all are a bunch of children. I can’t believe we survived a mission with this kind of behavior.”
Y/N laughed, a bright, genuine sound that resonated through the room. “Hey, if we didn’t have fun, we’d all be losing our minds by now. This is what keeps us sane.”
The team continued to share stories, each tale adding to the warmth of the evening. As the hours passed, the initial high-energy banter settled into a more relaxed and comfortable silence. They had earned this moment of peace, and they savored it.
Price stood up and moved to the kitchenette, rummaging through the cabinets. “I think it’s time for some coffee. Who’s in?”
Y/N groaned dramatically. “Ugh, you’re a sadist, Price. It’s late, and you want to keep us awake?”
“You know as well as I do that we’re all going to be up in a few hours anyway,” Price replied with a grin. “Besides, coffee’s the least we deserve after tonight.”
Soap raised his hand. “I’ll take one. I’m not ready to sleep just yet.”
Roach, who had been quiet for a while, finally spoke up. “I’ll have a cup too. It’s been a long day.”
Ghost nodded in agreement. “I’ll take one as well. Can’t hurt to stay alert.”
Y/N, realizing she was outnumbered, reluctantly agreed. “Fine, I guess I’ll have one too. But only because I don’t want to be the only one not caffeinated.”
As Price brewed the coffee, Y/N leaned back into the couch, her gaze drifting around the room. The dim light cast a soft glow on the faces of her teammates, and she couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for them. Despite the harshness of their missions and the danger they faced, moments like this reminded her of the strength of their bond.
Price returned with steaming mugs of coffee, handing them out with a satisfied smile. “Here you go. One round of coffee for the night owls.”
Y/N took her cup, cradling it in her hands as she took a sip. The warmth of the coffee was a comforting contrast to the cold night air. “Alright, let’s make a toast,” she said, raising her mug. “To surviving another mission and to the best team in the world.”
The team raised their mugs in unison, clinking them together in a makeshift toast. “To us,” Price said, his voice filled with pride.
As they drank their coffee, the conversation gradually shifted to lighter topics. Y/N found herself enjoying the ease of the moment, the simple pleasure of being surrounded by friends who understood her and shared her experiences. The laughter and banter continued, and the weariness of the mission seemed to fade away.
Eventually, the coffee was gone, and the team began to wind down. They stretched out on the couches, their bodies relaxing into the comfortable cushions. The room grew quieter as the conversation dwindled, each member lost in their own thoughts or drifting towards sleep.
Y/N, feeling the weight of exhaustion finally catch up with her, snuggled into the couch. Her head rested against the armrest, and she closed her eyes, a contented smile on her lips. Despite her usual fiery demeanor, she found solace in these quiet moments of companionship.
Soap, noticing her relaxed state, gave her a playful nudge. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep. Don’t let us keep you up if you’re tired.”
Y/N opened one eye, giving him a lazy smile. “Nah, I’m good. Just enjoying the rare peace and quiet.”
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Summary: ghost and Y/N are paired for a mission, little do they know it will take a turn.
Word count: 1222
Warning: mention of injury (gunshot wound).
Simon “Ghost” Riley, masked and taciturn, crouched in the dense foliage of the jungle. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting a mottled pattern on the ground. His breath came in measured puffs, forming brief clouds in the chilly air. His eyes, ever watchful, scanned the perimeter of the compound ahead. Beside him, Y/N, his partner for the mission, was silently adjusting her gear, her movements fluid and practiced.
The objective was clear: infiltrate the compound, gather intel on the insurgent group’s plans, and exfiltrate without leaving a trace. Simple in theory, challenging in practice. Ghost and Y/N had been working together for months, their teamwork seamless, their trust implicit.
Ghost checked his radio for the final time. “You ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
Y/N’s reply was a soft chuckle. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Just remember, Ghost, if anything goes sideways, you owe me a drink.”
Ghost’s eyes flickered behind his mask, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Only if you don’t get us both killed.”
“Deal,” Y/N replied with a wink.
They moved forward, blending into the shadows as they approached the compound’s outer fence. The operation proceeded with the precision of a well-oiled machine. Ghost worked on disabling the alarm system while Y/N kept watch, her eyes darting over every movement in the dark.
“Alarm’s down,” Ghost murmured, his voice clipped but satisfied.
“Great. Now let’s get inside before they figure out we’re here,” Y/N responded, slipping through the breach in the fence with practiced ease.
Inside, the compound was a labyrinth of concrete and steel. They navigated the corridors with quiet efficiency, Ghost leading the way, his senses on high alert. Y/N followed closely, her movements almost a mirror image of his. They reached the intel room—a small, heavily guarded chamber with a single guard stationed outside.
Ghost signaled for Y/N to stay put as he took out the guard with a silenced shot. The guard crumpled silently to the ground, and Ghost swiftly moved to the door, unlocking it with a keycard he’d swiped from the guard’s belt.
Once inside, Y/N worked at the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “I’ve got the intel. Let’s wrap this up and get out of here,” she said.
Ghost nodded, his gaze constantly shifting between the door and Y/N. Just as they were about to leave, the unexpected happened. The door creaked open, and an alarm blared, flooding the room with a red, pulsating light. Ghost reacted instinctively, pulling Y/N into a nearby alcove as gunfire erupted outside the room.
“Stay down!” Ghost commanded, his tone more urgent than before.
Y/N ducked low, her face set in a grimace of concentration. “This wasn’t part of the plan,” she joked, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. “But you know, Ghost, it’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for.”
Ghost didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the door. He pulled out his radio and began coordinating their extraction, his voice clipped and authoritative. “We need to get out now. The exit route’s compromised. I’m sending you the alternate route. Follow my lead.”
Y/N nodded, though her expression was tense. She was clearly trying to mask her pain, but Ghost’s sharp eyes caught the wince as she adjusted her position. “You alright?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
“Just peachy,” Y/N replied with a forced grin. “But maybe a little less peach and a little more bruised.”
Ghost’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, focusing on their escape route. They navigated the compound’s corridors, the sounds of chaos growing louder behind them. Ghost’s tactical skills and Y/N’s agility got them through a series of narrow escapes, each step bringing them closer to freedom.
As they neared the final exit, Y/N stumbled, her breath coming in short gasps. Ghost’s hand shot out, steadying her. “You’re injured,” he said, his voice betraying a rare note of concern.
Y/N tried to brush it off. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch. You should see the other guy.”
Ghost’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “We’re not playing around here. How bad is it?”
Y/N hesitated, then lifted her shirt slightly to reveal a bloodied wound on her side. “It’s more than a scratch, I guess.”
Ghost’s expression darkened. “We need to get you patched up.”
“I’m fine,” Y/N insisted. “We’re almost out.”
Ghost’s grip on her arm tightened. “You’re not going to be fine if we don’t stop and treat that wound. You’re not going anywhere until I’ve had a chance to look at it.”
Y/N’s eyes softened, seeing the genuine worry in Ghost’s gaze. “Alright, alright. Just… make it quick. I don’t want to be the one holding us up.”
Ghost led her to a secluded area away from the compound’s lights. He pulled out a first-aid kit from his pack and began to work with steady hands. Despite the urgency of their situation, there was a careful precision to his movements.
Y/N winced as he cleaned the wound, but she maintained her joking demeanor. “You know, Ghost, I always thought you were just a big, scary mask. Turns out you’re actually quite the tender medic.”
Ghost’s focus didn’t waver. “Just keep talking so I can keep my mind off how stupid you were to get yourself injured.”
Y/N laughed softly, despite the pain. “I had to keep you on your toes. Can’t let you get too comfortable.”
Ghost finished bandaging the wound and gave her a stern look. “You’re lucky I’m not dragging you back to base myself.”
Y/N’s expression softened, a rare moment of vulnerability showing through. “Thanks, Ghost. For everything.”
He nodded, his expression hidden behind the mask but his eyes softening slightly. “Let’s get out of here.”
They continued their escape, Ghost’s tactical expertise guiding them through the chaos. Despite Y/N’s injury, she managed to keep pace, her determination evident. Finally, they reached the extraction point, where a helicopter waited to whisk them away.
As they boarded the chopper, Y/N looked over at Ghost. “Next time, let’s aim for a mission without the dramatic escape.”
Ghost allowed himself a rare, brief smile. “I’ll see what I can do. But don’t push your luck, Y/N.”
The helicopter lifted off, the jungle receding beneath them. Y/N leaned back in her seat, exhausted but relieved. Ghost sat across from her, his gaze steady and watchful.
“You know,” Y/N said, her voice tired but content, “I think I might actually owe you two drinks now.”
Ghost’s smile widened, though it remained hidden behind his mask. “I’ll hold you to that. But next time, let’s just stick to the mission.”
Y/N chuckled, despite the pain. “Deal.”
As the helicopter soared through the night, Ghost kept a vigilant watch, his concern for Y/N evident in every glance. In the world they operated in, trust and teamwork were their strongest assets, and he knew that their bond was forged in the heat of combat, strengthened by every mission they undertook.
And though the night had been fraught with danger and uncertainty, Ghost found a moment of solace in the knowledge that they had made it through—together.
Summary: New recruit Y/N is assigned tasks with different members of task force 141.
Word count: 1122
Warning: none?
The sprawling training facility was alive with the hum of machinery and the sharp clatter of boots against concrete. The space was vast, purpose-built to simulate everything from urban warfare to hostile environments. It was here that Task Force 141 was about to put their newest recruit—Y/N—through the paces.
Y/N stood in the center of the room, her stance relaxed but her eyes sharp. Dressed in tactical gear, she looked every bit the part of a seasoned operative. However, her reputation for sarcasm and a no-nonsense attitude had preceded her. She cracked a grin as Captain Price strode up to her, his expression a mixture of amusement and sternness.
“Morning, Captain,” Y/N said with a smirk. “I hope you’re ready for a workout, because I’ve been told I’m a bit of a handful.”
Price raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard,” he said, his tone even. “But let’s see if your skills match your bravado. Today’s drills will push you hard. You’ll be working with each member of the team in various scenarios. Let’s get started.”
Price led Y/N to the first section of the training area, where a series of obstacles and mock enemy positions were set up. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and adrenaline.
“Alright, Y/N, you’re up first with me,” Price said, gesturing towards a simulated hostage rescue scenario. “You’ll need to secure the hostages and eliminate any threats without causing collateral damage.”
Y/N nodded, her expression turning serious. “Got it. Time to show you why I’m the best thing since sliced bread.”
As the simulation started, Price observed closely while Y/N navigated the environment with impressive skill. She moved with precision, taking out enemies with calculated shots and avoiding unnecessary risks. Her commentary, however, was a mix of humor and grit.
“You know, Captain, for someone who’s seen as a legend, you sure do know how to pick the worst spots for a rescue. It’s like you’re trying to give me a headache.”
Price chuckled. “Just keep moving and focus. We don’t have all day.”
Despite her banter, Y/N completed the task efficiently, securing the hostages and neutralizing the threats with minimal fuss. Price gave a nod of approval.
“Not bad. You’ve got a knack for this. Next up, Ghost.”
Ghost, ever the enigmatic figure with his skull mask and silent demeanor, awaited Y/N for the next exercise. The task with Ghost focused on stealth and reconnaissance.
“In this exercise, you’ll need to infiltrate an enemy compound and retrieve classified documents,” Ghost instructed through his comms. “Avoid detection at all costs. Ready?”
Y/N smirked. “Stealthy and deadly—that’s my middle name.”
As the simulation began, Y/N slinked through shadows, using every inch of cover to her advantage. Ghost’s occasional instructions were concise and to the point, guiding her through the compound. Despite the intense focus required, Y/N couldn’t help but crack a few jokes.
“If I had a dime for every time I had to dodge a laser sensor, I’d be able to retire by now. Wait, are we done yet?”
Ghost’s response was a silent nod as Y/N successfully extracted the documents without setting off any alarms.
“Impressive,” Ghost said, his voice carrying a hint of approval. “You’re stealthier than a cat on a prowl. Let’s see how you fare with Soap.”
Soap’s exercise was a combination of tactical maneuvers and combat scenarios. The environment was a chaotic battlefield, with simulated enemies and objectives to complete.
“Alright, lass,” Soap said, flashing a grin. “In this one, we’re gonna be in the thick of it. We need to clear these positions and hold them against enemy forces. Don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty.”
The firefight began, and Soap’s energy was infectious. He moved with a blend of aggression and precision, pushing forward while coordinating with Y/N.
“Soap, if you keep yelling like that, I might just mistake you for one of the enemy,” Y/N quipped as she fired her weapon. “And I have to say, you’ve got quite the flair for dramatic entrances.”
Soap laughed, his enthusiasm unabated. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Just make sure you keep up!”
The exercise tested Y/N’s ability to handle high-pressure situations while working as part of a team. Her quick thinking and combat skills shone through as she and Soap cleared the positions and secured their objectives.
“Nice work, rookie,” Soap said, clapping her on the back. “You’ve got some serious chops. Now, let’s wrap it up with Roach.”
Roach’s scenario focused on marksmanship and precision under varying conditions. The targets were set up at different distances, and the challenge was to hit them all within a strict time limit.
“In this one, it’s all about accuracy,” Roach explained. “You’ve got to hit all the targets quickly and efficiently. No pressure.”
Y/N’s response was a smirk as she took her position. “Pressure is my middle name. Let’s see if you can keep up.”
Roach watched closely as Y/N lined up her shots. Her focus was intense, and she hit each target with impressive accuracy. The time limit was tight, but Y/N managed to complete the drill with seconds to spare.
“Good shooting,” Roach said, a rare smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’ve got a solid shot. That’s it for today.”
As the training session concluded, the members of Task Force 141 gathered around Y/N. They exchanged looks of mutual respect and approval.
“You’ve done well,” Price said, a hint of pride in his voice. “You’ve proven you’ve got both the skills and the attitude to make it with us. Keep up the good work, and remember, this is just the beginning.”
Y/N nodded, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Thanks, Captain. And don’t worry—I’ll be sure to keep you all on your toes.”
The team chuckled, and Y/N felt a sense of camaraderie with the elite group. The training had been intense, but it had also been a chance to prove herself and bond with some of the best operatives in the field.
As she walked out of the facility, Y/N knew that she had earned her place among Task Force 141. The blend of sarcasm and skill had served her well, and she was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
In the world of high-stakes missions and dangerous operations, Y/N had found her footing. With the support and guidance of Task Force 141, she was poised to make a significant impact. The training grounds had been the proving ground, and she had emerged stronger, sharper, and more determined than ever.
Summary: When Y/N is a prefect and has to show the new comers around, first years really cant keep quiet when you tell them something.
Word count: 2388
Warnings: none.
As a prefect, it was one among many duties to show around the new comers who would be in their first year at hogwarts. Each house had an assigned candidate for the job and gryffindors prefect was none other than Y/N Y/L/N- she didnt know why she was picked out of all people, her social skills were near to nothing, she hated being in crowds and she most certainly wasnt much of a leading figure, so why Dumbledore had decided she was best for the job, she'd never know.
"This is the gryffindor common room, where each of you are welcome to in your spare time around the castle." She stopped near the coffee table, between two love seats infront of the fireplace that was a light, cackling softly, setting a warm tone through the area. Y/N turned to look back at the few first years, sighing when she saw that they were all looking at her expectantly, some with boredom and some with complete confusion, she motioned towards the stairwell. "Up those stairs are the dormitories, girls to the left and boys to the right."
The Y/H/C haired girl watched as the children split off in different directions, looking around and taking in the new atmosphere they had been invited to call their own just as much as the older years. Her eyebrows furrowed when she felt a light tug on her robe, if it wasnt for the slight cough that came from beside her, she wouldmt have noticed.
"Excuse me?" There stood a short blonde haired, brown eyed girl; hands twisting together infront of her as she peered up at the older girl. Y/N sent her a small smile, allowing the small girl to know that she was acknowledged.
"Yes?" It didnt take a genius to see the first year was nervous, though what the older girl seemed to notice was how the blonde had her eyes trained on a certain group of boys that were sat at a table in the far corner of the room.
"W-who are they?" This made Y/N smile whole-heartedly, rolling her eyes.
"Hmmm." She had to be careful with her words here, she could say alot about the boys but she wouldnt be so heavy on the words especially around the little first year. A breathy laugh passed her lips, her gaze going to set on her friends that were laughing amongst themselves and muttering out incoherent sentences, amusing one another. "They're something alright. A bunch of toe rags I say but they can be tolerable once you get to know them."
"So do you know them?"
"Yeah. I suppose you could say that." Her grin widened- her face had contorted into a full happy state, her smile wasnt one that was forced or there to appear content, her smile reached her eyes, soft and warm.
"They seem like a fun group."
"That they are." Y/N whispered, the words a light weight of breath as she spoke. She looked down at the girl as if contemplating something, the blonde looked up at her, doe eyed and raised brows as if waiting for the elder to continue- she motioned to the tall, lanky curly raven haired boy who was leant against the wall, arms crossed with a closed lip smile. "That there is Sirius Black. He's cocky and reckless for the most part, never thinks before her acts but he's brave and looks out for his friends, he cares eventhough he might not show it."
She could remember the time sirius had arrived to a potions class late, she hadn't got a partner and he didnt miss that. He strolled towards her desk with a smug smile on his face, once arriving at her side he leant against the table with one arm, slouching down as he looked into the cauldron and watched as she continued the task alone. The first thing she had said was for him not to touch a thing, most importantly not to interfere with what she was doing but Sirius being Sirius decided to not listen to her and decided to add frog eggs to the mixture making it blow up in her face as she was the one directly above it- she kept her eyes closed for a few seconds allowing herself to breath in and out but when sirius let out a bellowed cackle she lunged for him, grabbing the book form thr desk and repeatedly hit him with it as he chuckled and blocked her hits with his hands. Though after much to her dismay he had walked her to the girls restroom, yes and eventhough he shouldnt be in there he went stayed to help her freshen up.
"Who's that one?" Another girl had appeared at her side, a little red head with blue eyes and freckles. She pointed towards the boy who sat upright in a chair leaning on the table, one hand holding a book whilst the other was grasping a half eaten bar of chocolate, his light mousey brown locks fell over his eyes.
"Remus. Remus Lupin." Her eyes gazed at him fondly, eyes lighting up. "I'd say he's level headed, usually keeps the others in check. Rem is very intelligent and compassionate compared to the others, I'm not saying the others arent but he knows what hes going for and is always determined to do his best- he can almost always see the good in people, no matter who they are. A sigh escaped her lips, her hand lifting to send a small wave when the boy himself looked in her direction.
"He sounds nice." Y/N nodded along in agreement. Remus had helped her through the hardest of times, not long after starting Hogwarts she had been having troubles with her other form- in other words she was an animigi. She had gone to the forbidden forest one night, wanting to get away from the publicity inside the school, thought everyone would've been in their dorms she wouldnt want to risk it. She managed to make it towards the weeping willow tree before collapsing to the grass, eyes glowing a fluorescent green as her face merged in and out of character, that was until she heard a soft spoken voice call out to her and she unknowingly let out a guttural growl. There stood Remus Lupin, hesitantly stepping closer to her as she hissed and scowled not fully transfigured, he stayed with her all night, talking to her in a gental tone until sunrise where by then she had managed to regain composure.
"You see the one with the glasses?" Y/N pointed out the dark haired male who stood at the opposite side of the table from Remus, his finger pushing up the glasses on his nose as they slid down. "That's James Potter, probably the most arrogant and boastful guy you'd meet. You could say he's a talented person but when you speak to him you'd think different as he sounds rather dumb. I'd stay clear of him, and Sirius for that matter- they enjoy pulling pranks." A sudden rush of panic crossed the two first years faces making the older gryffindor feel a small sense of guilt as she didnt mean to disturb them, she chuckled shaking her head. "I wouldnt worry though, they only target specific people."
James Potter, now he was a one off. She absolutely despised him in the nicest way possible, of course he was her friend but he was begrudgingly annoying at times; take last term for example, she was on her daily round of checking the corridors on a nightly stroll on her prefect duties, she only rounded a corner and a bucket of gooey liquid fell onto her head and seeped into her hair, gown, under clothes, she was absolutely livid and she new exactly who the culprits were, especially after hearing two voices one panicked hushed voice and a loud cackle that rung through the halls- it was James and Sirius, no doubt being potters idea tho, Sirius would have at least been more creative. Sirius however had managed to get away but Y/N had tugged the latter back by the collar of his shirt and jumper, a sequence of apologies slipping from him but falling upon death ears. She never called the boys out, that was probably one of the best things about her being a prefect, with the boys being close friends with her, they had gotten away with alot more than they should of as she covers for them.
"H-he looks nervous." And of course there was was the smaller boy, who rocked back and forth on his heels as the other laughed and joked.
"Oh that's Peter Pettigrew, he likes to reserve himself. He's very awkward at times, doesnt really do well socially but hes kind overall, wouldnt harm a fly." Y/N concluded, eyes scanning over her friends again.
She hadn't really conversed with peter s much, sure they are in the same friend group but even then he still seems to stay to himself, keep out of trouble. He had helped her with her homework one time, she was struggling in herbology, it wasnt her strongest subject. She was falling behind as she had skipped many classes with Sirius and James to go an explore the castle, eventhough they all knew every route of by heart, it was still fun to get out especially when theres a lesson that neither of them enjoy.
"Oi Y/L/N?!" A loud call of her name broke her from her thoughts, she looked ahead to see Sirius smiling at her widely. She rolled her eyes, throwing a tight lipped smile as she noticed him walking her way with the others behind him.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Black." She jokingly bowed, a evident smirk tugging at her lips.
"I couldn't help but notice the gestures being pointed towards us." He grinned, showing off his pearly whited in the process. Sirius stopped right infront of her, the others circling around as they came to a stop aswell. "You wouldnt happen to be talking about us now, would you Y/N?"
"No, of course no-"
"Yuh huh. She said you were reckless and cocky." Y/N's eyes immediately shot down to the young blonde, narrowing her eyes and if you looked close enough her left one seemed to twitch a little as her mouth set into a straight line, her smile instantly dropping. "But she did also say you were brave and caring."
"Oh did she now?" Sirius rose a brow, a mischievous glint flickering in his almond eyes. He tilted his head towards his friend, wiggling his brows at her tauntingly as she scowled at him.
"Oh! Oh! What about me?! Did she say anything about me?" James jumped to stand beside sirius, throwing his arm over the taller males shou,der in the process looking between Y/N and the younger years expectantly.
"Hmm. I think she called you arrogant-"
"And boastful and dumb!" The redhead added to the blondes statement making the older girl look down at them unammused, sneering slightly as she huffs and crossed her arms. James looked up with wide eyes, processing what had been said before frowning. "But she also said you are talented."
"And you!" The blonde exclaimed pointing at Remus, making him look down at her in shock but he still gave a short soft smile. "She called you intelligent and compassionate, you keep the others in check."
"Hey!" "Oi!" Sirius and james protested looking around the circle, peter still stood there quiet as always, looking at the ground as he wrung his hands together.
"Then she called you reserved and awkward!" Peter looked up nervously, eyes peering between the blonde and redhead as his cheeks grew hot under the gazes of the group, making them laugh as he recoiled in on himself proving Y/N's point of him being an awkward person.
The two first years soon ran off after exposing exactly what the older girl had said about her friends, both giggling between one another. Y/N sighed shoving herself through Sirius and James, spinning on her heel and fell back slouching into the long red cushioned couch. She looked up to see Sirius with a wide grin on his face, already looking down at her.
"Dont you even start Black, your ego's big enough already. That didnt at all need boosting the way it has been today." She grumbled lowly, throwing her legs up on the couch so she was half slouched laying the length of it. Remus hummed, a warm smile still on his face as he rounded the rectangular coffee table, lifted her legs slightly before sliding to sit down and placing them back on his lap.
"Why does moony get complimented and nothing bad said about him?" James whined, coming to stand behind the couch with his hands resting on the back, so he could lean over. "I'm not dumb."
"Because Rem's my favourite, nothing bad to say about him." She mused reaching a hand up to pinch at his cheek to which he tried to dodge with a chuckle, pushing her hand away.
"I'm not as perfect as you lead me on to be Y/N." Remus placed his hand on her shin, rubbing up and down soothingly. He did appreciate her compliments and did find it rather amusing how she had managed to find flaws in the except himself, though she hadn't meant anything bad by her use of words.
"But kitty I thought I was your favourite." Sirius looked at her with a pout, kneeling beside where she had sat and taking her hands him his making her roll her eyes despite the smile that was almost catching her lips. She got the nickname kitty just like the others; moony, padfoot, wormtail and prongs- the wolf, the dog, the rat and the deer- she was oddly enough a panther, though not a fully grown one.
"I dont have favourites, I was joking Siri." She pushed his hands away then proceeded to raise her hand and push his face away from her as he started to lean closer. "But Rem is definetly top tier."
{May or may not follow the actual plot, there will be a few changes- I dont own any original characters apart from Y/N Fushiguro.}
Chapter Three- DAMN THE CURSES
(Part one) (Part two) (Part three)
...
Gojo paced the length of his dorm, glancing back at the girl who layed passed out on his twin bed. He was worried, in fact more than worried for Y/N, he had never seen her in such a weakened pained state before- Satoru cared for Y/N Fushiguro deeply and it was blatantly obvious, in his eyes she was a cold, stubborn girl who hid away from the world and wanted nothing but her own personal space but on another level he thought she was one of if not the most talented, selfless, honorable person he had met and not to mention beautiful, he loved her in spite of her perfections and flaws.
He knew she was injured but he had taken her word on everything being 'fine' and that her injury was 'nothing' but deep down he knew that he should have pushed further and helped even when she declined, he somewhat felt guilty for overseeing the issue which had now impact her greatly.
"Toru?" She hadn't called him that in years. He jumped at the sudden hoarse croak of ner voice, stalking to her side where he knelt on the floor beside her. This was one in three of the times he had seen her in such a vulnerable state.
"Hey Y/N/N. How you feeling?"
"Like I've been hit by a fuckin' train." She groaned, pushing herself up to a sitting position, sliding to rest her back against the headboard, stretching an arm over her stomach so her hand could set on her aching hip. "What happened?"
"You ended up fainting- you know I told you to take a rest." He chuckled lightly, an attempt to make light of the situation as he always did, being serious wasmt really his thing, he joked and made stupid comments which often made him look arrogant and egotistical, which he is, but behind that he was more- he was strong, caring and more than protective over things that meant much to him.
"Yeah yeah, I get it. I'm stubborn and didnt accept help, yada yada." She dabbled out, making hand motions to phase a mouth moving, letting her eyes land on Gojos face, his lips formed into a little frown and his eyebrows furrowed. "Look. M'sorry okay, I'll make sure to tell you next time if I am in need of help."
"I should have known better than to take your word for it Y/N Fushiguro." He shot her a smile, perfectly lined teeth gleaming in the light of the room. She rolled her eyes, raising a hand to push his head away to the side which made him laugh as she sighed and crossed her hands in her lap. He is head tilted up at an angle, though she could sense his shielded eyes were on her, she rose a brow in his direction; a soft smile fell onto his lips as he mentioned towards her injured side. "I-I tried to clean it as much as I could. Didnt have time to find Shoko so I took care of you myself."
"Oh?" He brows furrowed, eyes casting down to her side as she moved her hand; fingers grasping at the edge of the shirt she had come to notice she had been put in. Raising the shirt, she sighed at the light work of bandage that was wrapped around the width of her hips, her lips twitched up in a gestured appreciation to what Satoru had done to atleast help a little, even if it looked like an amateur had patched her up, it seemed to be better then what she had done herself a day prior. "Thanks Satoru."
With a teasing smirk, he lifted his hand to his blindfold, his thumb hooking under the left side. He slid the material carefully upward, revealing one of his striking blue eyes, the hue of a winter sky. "Just doing my part, gotta make sure your cared for and well, dont I?" he commented, his teasing tone returning, changing his demeanor.
Y/N smiled at him lightly, then for a slight second her lip twitched downwards and her brows furrowed.
"Where's megumi?" She suddenly questioned, looking at Gojo seriously. She had a weird feeling, like something was off but she couldnt quite place what it was.
"He's back on a mission, been gone for quite a while though. He was with Yuji." He responded, eyes following her as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood from her spot. Her eyes wandered around the room, landing in her skinny jhett trouser that were slung over a chair in the corner. "What are you doing."
"Somethings not right Satoru I can feel it..."
...
Meanwhile...
"Find Kugisaki! Ngh." The young raven haired Fushiguro grumbled, his eyes cast into the shadows during his hard command- everything had turned eerie, it was cold, wet, ragged down where he was within a tunnel, no sight of Itadori or Kugisaki anywhere.
"Hehehehe..." A curse groaned in an echo of laughter, standing face to face with the young pink haired boy.
"Heh... Trying to say it's easier to move around in your underwear?" Yuji's eyes trailed over the curse, a hand running over the back of his neck as he let out a nervous chuckle, squinting. He couldnt possible know what he was supposed to do right now, facing this dusked creature, that was before the finger bearer decided to blast Itadori. "Gah! Ngh."
"Heh!" Another blast of cursed energy was thrown towards the boy making him let out a noise of surprise and jump out the way, scattering to the side, eyes casting back to watch the beam break through one of the ashy stone walls behind him. Yuji threw his hands out infront of him, as he came to stand straight; before he even had chance to condemn what was to happen next, a scorching pain hot through his hand as another blast hit the flash of his hand, melting his fingers through to the bone.
"Urahhh!" Itadori looked at his hand, eyes wide and mouth a gape as he let put noises of pain and discomfort at the feeling. His almond orbs switched between his now fingerless hand and the finger bearer, his other clenching shut, him being quick to pounce and throw his arm towards the creature but his fist only seemed to be caught just as quickly.
At that a sequence of howls and growls emerged through the sphere of the tunnels, transvercing in the air. Yuji glanced around, immediately knowing that was a signal from Megumi, foreshadowed through his demon dogs. The pink haired boy's head swirled as he stayed trapped in thought not noticing the mass of tattoos that had started to trail and show up, over his skin.
"What a thoroughly annoying brat." Sukuna's voice, gruff and dull came, miming through the youngers mouth. In the detention center, Sukuna is now the one that faces the finger bearer. "He’s obviously screwing with me."
"Ngh- Agh." The curse tilted it head when Sukuna placed his hand on its shoulder.
"Hold on a moment. I’m thinking right now. What can I do to make that brat regret this?" He didnt even seem merely bothered at his current situation but more so made sure to assert dominance here just by using a harsh voice, as he always did as the king of curses, he was a rightful domineering man.
"Ah!" The curse jumped back in fear when Sukuna moved to wall away.
"Hey, let’s go kill some kids." The kinged Curse peered down at Itadoris hand, fowning with a sigh in dismissal, side smiling as he watched the fingers start to grow back and regenerate to their original form.
Suddenly a black mass of smoke surged towards the finger bearer, looking to form into a figure as it hit the creature sending it back into the wall. Sukunas eyes squinted at the sight, noticing how there now stood a girl infront of the creature who was molded into the stone of the wall, her shoulders lowering and rising as erratic breaths seeped past her lips.
A crow swooped in from her side, turning into an ashy mist as it seemed to mutate, merging into her ribcage. "Fucking curses, can't ever catch a break.
"And who might you be..." Y/N spun around to face the spourced speaker, head tilted, hair tied high but a mess, fizzing out at the sides. His words didnt sound to be a question but more so a command.
"What? Itadori?" She huffed, hands nestling on the dips of her hips, a puff of air flowing from her mouth. She furrowed her brows, looking him up and down, noticing the tattoos and only now coming to the realisation. "No. Not itadori. Sukuna."
"Aha you know who I am. Bravo." He clapped his hands together, crossing his arms. Red eyes trailing up and down the girls form in judgement, he hummed cocking his chin up as she scowled at him. "Why do you not seem bothered by me, woman."
"I have no need to be bothered by a mere curse like you." Her words phased through his ears, bouncing back between the drums as he delved in her words; his eyes slanting in anger, mouth setting into thin line.
"You are not to speak to me in such a tone." He growled, taking a shortened walk towards her as he stretched to take longer steps. His shoes stood toe to toe with her own, crimson orbs staringly dangerously into dark ones. The female Fushiguro chuckled lowly in amusement, shaking her head which only made the king of curses growl at again his time reaching a hand out to grab at her neck, to then be stopped by a tendril surfacing in a black mist from the ground, tugging his wrist in a tight hold. "Stupid girl, you think that can stop me."
A flame surged from his hand, in an attempt to burn at the tendril, leaving him in a state of disbelief when he watched the blaze of fire Serge through, not damaging or weakening the hold on his wrist. The girl looked him, chuckling lowly in amusement; she slid from infront of him, walking away so she stood feet away from his form. Sukuna growled out in anger, throwing his hands up rapidly, breaking the bone between his wrist and the controlled shadow spectre.
"Huh?" Y/N spun on her heel, eyes widening when she saw the pink haired king making a beeline in her direction. Once he got close enough, his hand yet again reached put for her but this time the girl was quick to flatten her palm, downright towards the floor with a a twist of her middle and forefinger, flicker her thumb; Sukuna was soon to loose his breath as he fell through the floor, feeling as if it was a never ending consumption before it had ended with him hitting the floor he fell through prior. "Damn you."
Just as her eyes narrowed down at him, a massive hand grasped at the material of her shirt, throwing her back into a brick wall that cracked on impact. A grunt and groan slipped her lips in pain, breath trapping in her lungs like a pocket of air as she fell to the floor, front first with her hands beside her face laying flat- she looked to he barely conscious as she heaved.
"Little brat." Sukuna came to a stand, pushing the finger bearer away with force sending the bigger being back to the ground unwillingly. He scoffed, kicking at the curses leg then proceeded too make his way towards the girl, his steps kept short as he was quick to take longer strides; his talon nailed hand hooked into the shoulder of her shirt, tugged her up to a stand, his other hand making it's way to her neck in favour to pushing her straight into the wall instantly. "You think you're strong- better than me?! Stupid, silly little girl you are!"
"Ngh-" the sound caught in her throat, head looking back with half lidded eyes staring right into the fiery red orbs of the cursed king. "Maybe not stronger- but way fucking smarter."
"Wha-" she pointed two finger guns to the ground, her lips up turning when several tendrils reach out from the shadowed corners and snatched Sukunas wrist hardly, pulling them away quicker than he had her in his hold. He was thrown back, skidding along the floor to a laying point beside the finger bearer.
Y/N Fushiguro smirked to herself, wincing at her aching body. Taking one last look at the two curses that lay groaning, she disappeared into the shadows.
Summary: After a hard day, Y/N pays a visit to the girls restroom to freshen up, only to find an open passage way.
Word count: 2325
Warnings: mentions of blood/injury.
"Stupid potions always blowing up on me." A Y/H/C haired girl stumbled through one of the long corridors within the castle, dusting off her robes. Her face was contorted into one of annoyance, a low grumble setting in her throat before she let out a long exaggerated puff of air. This was the second time today a potion had blew up in her face, Professor slughorn had assured her that all she needed was practise but she was very uncertain, even when she read of the instructions- multiple times at that- nothingvseemed to go right and she for sure was nothing like the boy who was top of the class. Tom riddle.
Riddle. There was no one quite like him. He was considered the top of all his classes, he was practically a high class genius. Y/N had known Tom for a long time, she had observed him from a far and even had the guts to not only approach him but actually interact with him on several occasions and although at first he hadn't been too keen on her breaking his bubble of solitary and peace, she had somehow managed to catch his attention in other ways. What the girl hadn't seemed to notice was how Tom also observed her but he was sneaky, he stayed in the shadows, in the corners, watching her when she was in her own little world not even noticing the prying eyes that pierced her being from a day to day basis.
Y/N came to a stop outside the girls restroom, pushing through the heavy wooden double doors clumsily. She stompted towards the sink, and turned the brass tap roughly making it squeak at the harsh pressure that she applied. She leaned over slightly at a hunch, cupping hands under the stream of water and splashed her face to refresh herself and get off the excess dust that had cast over her cheeks and chin. A sudden clicking noise caught her attention, her head slowly turning at an angle in the direction of what sounded like the churning of locks and tics was coming from.
She squinted her eyes at what looked to be a now open passage way, the inside dark and eerie as it looked like an endless void of nothingness, there was no single slither of light but only the dimly lit yellow casting through that the restroom had. She stood straight, hands dropping to her sides and fisting at her robes, she couldnt help but step closer towards the crack between the two mirrors on the circular row of sinks. She reached out a hand, grasping at one of the frames on the side, the tip of her shoes just at the edge of the opening and just as she had gone to step inside she suddenly slipped, a scream erupting from her throat as she slid down into the darkness.
Her hands reached out in an attempt to grip onto anything in a panic, this didnt at all feel safe. She felt herself glide off of what felt like a step and landed on a stack of hard stick like figures; her eyes were screwed shut, breathes ragged and heavy as her body shook lightly among the masses beneath her. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth in a motion to steady her breathing, her hands pushed down on the sharp hard lengths so she could push herself up and onto her feet.
Only then when she came to a stand did she open her eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim and brisked room that she ended up in. It looked like a widely open space but something like a sewer at the same time. Her eyes moved down to the ground cement floor, bright Y/E/C orbs widening when she spotted what she had landed on, a gasp past her lips as she stumbled back only to hit a wall that she was sure hadn't been behind her before- whilst wide eyes stayed cast on the pile of bones a loud hiss broke the silence, making Y/N lurch forward with a jump, she took one glance behind her shoulder, screeching when she saw an oversized serpent covering above her.
Flight or fight kicked in, adrenaline surfacing to her blood stream as she set off into a sprint, tears coming to her eyes as she pushed her burning legs to take her away from the giant creature. Around the corner was a large stone opening where she had to climb through and over a step to get inside, there she saw a walkway that had staues of snakes along the length, leading to a wall that was in the shape of a man with an open mouth, he looked familiar too her almost an exact replica to who she had seen only in books and pictures. Salzar Slytherin.
Another hiss echoed through the room, followed by a crackle. She stumbled forwards quickly and set into a run again, but she ended up tripping over a crack on the floor, falling face first on her hands and knees, crying out at the heated pain that now spread through her palms and knees from the fall. She pushed up, turning so she sat on her backside, looking up at the serpent that stood stiff only feet away from her, Y/N started to push backwards, open wounds pushing against the floor leaving droplets and stains of her red blooded essence behind.
Out the corner of her eyes she spotted a figure, standing tall and dressed in a familiar robe that was similar to her own. Blurry eyes set on none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle- she hushed out his name but he seemed to take no notice of her, his lips moving slowly in motion but she didnt hear words at all, she could only make out long demeanering hisses and a hint of sharp tone that shone through a different language. At that the overly sized snake hissed back lowly, but didnt move an inch.
Tom turned to the girl, dark eyes looking down at her shaking form. A small smile twitched at his lips when he noticed her teary eyes but not at all did it seem kind, more so mocking and smug. She met his gaze, with wide doe eyes, looking like a deer caught in headlights more so a little bambi, small, innocent, scared. His shoes clicked against the stone geou d as she moved in her direction, crouching at her feet with his head tilted towards her.
"What are you doing down here Y/L/N." His voice rung in her ears, a shiver shooting through her spine at the cold motionless tone. She let out what sounded to be a whimper when she leaned back on her hands pulling them up and into her lap quickly, looking down at the irritated skin that was covered in the warmth of her blood that pooled to the surface slightly.
"Tom..." she whispered his name with a shake in her breath.
His eyes squinted, the way his name flowed from her tongue sounded so good- he enjoyed the shake in her voice, the scarce in her body language. It's what he craved, he wanted people to be scared of him, to he at his will but with Y/N, oh she intrigued him, he wanted her to be scared and at his will but not like others, no. He wanted her by his side almost as a companion, she made efforts to speak to him, even at the times he had pushed her away, she came back the next day more determined for him to give any kind of response; she was innocent, sweet but also cold and quiet, calculating and captivating, he didnt understand how someone like her could be a slytherin, he was very much so invested. He wanted to know every little detail about her, he had never been interested in anyone even merely but Y/N Y/L/N, she was one of a kind, someone with so many hidden secrets. He wanted to taint her, ruin her, in a way that he would have full control and she would need to rely on him in every way. "You shouldn't have been snooping, darling."
"I-i wasn't snooping, I sw-swear." She went to reel back as his hand rest on her ankle, but he had gripped her fast and roughly allowing her no room to remove his grip. He tugged her towards his crouched form, her robe sliding up her legs at the movement when she was pulled to him, her lower thighs resting at his legs, his hand hovering up and over her body until it reached up to her neck, his fingers feathering a touch on her soft skin just before his hand grasped her jaw, tilting her head to look up at him.
"If you wasn't snooping as you claim, then you wouldnt be down here. You would have ignored the open passage and minded your buisness." She pushed her face away, standing tall again begrudgingly reaching out his hand which she stared at with furrowed brows and a frown. Her eyes switched quickly to his gaze, meeting dark stern eyes as he rose a brow and nodded at his hand expectantly, Y/N sighed with a shake reaching up to his hand, letting out a noise when he pulled her up suddenly.
"Ouch.." she groaned, tugging her hand away from him and to her chest. Tom looked at her unammused but something behind the cold, darkened gaze softened, he hummed and pulled his wand from his robe pocket reaching for her hand but this time he didnt wait and took it in his hold in an instant. He pointed the tip of his wand down at the open skin of her hand grumbling out the word 'Episky' and in seconds Y/N watched as the wounds started to close up, sending a tingling sensation through her hand. Her eyes darted up to Tom's but he was looking down, her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, gaping before she uttered a "Thank you."
"Mhmm.." his eyes flickered up to her face, taking in her features; sure he had done this plenty of times but never had he been so close. He noticed how her eyes, they had a certain shine to them but not at all did they seem fully happy, they were vibrant, carrying some form of lonesome appeal behind a built surface, metaphorically she was an iceberg there was only so much that was in the open, at the top, the surface- however there were so many things that nobody knew, or understood, buried deep behind closed walls. He studied her every chance he got and all he had been able to figure was that she kept to herself, most of the time anyway but for some reasosn she chose to interact with him, sit by him, even if it was in silence nothing between the two was uncomfortable. "Why are you so fixated on being around me?"
It was more so a question to himself really, something that he spoke without thinking. She narrowed her eyes for a second, raising her brows softly with a hum. "I find solace in your company. Sure you're mysterious but I like that you keep to yourself, your not like anyone I have ever interacted with." Her eyes were quick to shift to the serpent that still hovered away from them, noticing how it never even left but stayed only watching from the short distance-
"Don't. Don't look into its eyes.." Tom's hand reached up and moved her face to look up at him instead, her face contorted into a look of confusion. "Wouldn't want you to be petrified, hmm?" Y/N's eyes widened slightly, her breathing picked up within seconds of hearing his words, suddenly becoming scared again after calming herself prior this moment, he smirked down at her. "You'll be fine. Just don't look into it's eyes."
"W-what is it?" Her eyes stayed focused of Tom's dark ones, air stuttering in her lungs.
"She is a basilisk- Nagini." He hushed out, the last part sounding with an elongated hiss at the end which made the creature let out a guttural hiss at his words but it still only stayed in its spot, standing stiff in place. His smirk widened when he saw the girl gulp, eyes being trained on his as she didnt know where to look- he enjoyed the fact she hadn't looked away, the feeling was so intense yet it was so good at the same time. "Y/N..." She seemed to snap out of the state she was in at the call of her name, beckoning her back to reality. Her eyelashes flickered as she allowed herself to blink, moving her eyes so she was no longer gazing up at Tom but over one of his shoulders the one opposite to which the basilisk was on. "You're going to forget about this..."
"I-I dont understand?" She tilted her head, leaning into his hand as he placed it on her cheek lightly, shifting so he could rest his lips against her forehead, not in a kiss but just hovering over. He turned her head to the side, moving his face to rest beside her own so his lips were now in line with her ear. "T-Tom?"
"Shhhh..." his hand trailed down over her neck and to rest against her collarbone. His other hand that was free brought up his wand, pointing it directly at her- the only thing was, it was out of sight so she couldnt exactly know what he was doing- he placed a delicate kiss on the skin beneath her ear before whispering the words 'obliviate' making her world turn black.
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{May or may not follow the actual plot, there will be a few changes- I dont own any original characters apart from Y/N Fushiguro.}
(Part one), (Part two )
Chapter Two- SHE'S STRONG AND SHE KNOWS IT
...
Y/N stood inbetween her brother and Yuji Itadori as they awaited in the train station for their teacher, he was almost never on time and that annoyed the girl because she knew that even in the most complicated situations Gojo would always be Gojo and he would do as he pleased when he pleased, in his own way- he liked to say he was doing things in 'style' but the female Fushiguro didnt see it that way at all, she saw him as an inconvenience and an annoyance among others.
"How are there only three first-years? Isn’t that too few?" Yuji broke the silence between the three, looking at the siblings in confusion.
"Well, have you ever met anyone who can see curses before?" Megumi answered bluntly, eyes slanted in boredom.
"Uhh… Nope."
"Exactly, that just proves how small our population is, there arent many of us around." Y/N added quietly, eyes scouting the crowd, bringing her hands up to overlap her thumbs and spread her fingers out almost in the shape of a bird as she whispered 'shadow-bine' which made a black puff of smoke emerge and form into a crow that flew off at her silent demand.
Itadori looked at the girl in surprised, she only shrugged at him and stuffed her hands into her trouser pockets. Yuji then turned his attention to the other male, "Also, didn’t you say I was the third?"
"Their entry was decided a while ago. You know what our school’s like. Everyone has unique circumstances." Megumi hummed out, eyes squinting into the short distance when he spotted a familiar white haired male who had clocked them and waved.
"Sorry for the wait... I think you lost something Y/N/N, you spying on me again?" Gojo directed teasingly towards the girl who huffed and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms among her chest- she peered at the crow that now sat perched on Satorus shoulder before it turned to smoke again and vanished. "Oh? Your uniform made it in time, I see."
"Yeah, it’s a perfect fit! Though it’s slightly different from Fushiguro’s. It has a hood, for one." The pink haired boy exclaimed in excitement tugging at the edges of his cloak jacket smiling widely.
"That’s because the uniforms can be customized upon request." Gojo returned the bright smile the younger had, placing a hand on his hip as he leant to the right.
"Huh? But I never put in any requests."
"That's because Gojo did it, hes annoying like that. He likes taking control." Y/N said smugly, a rare half smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she eyes the sensei raising her brows at him when he coughed, sending her a short glare.
"Ahh Whatever, I guess." Itadori smiled lightly, rubbing the back of his head glancing down at his uniform.
"Be careful. Gojo-sensei has a tendency to do things like that." The dark haired boy said peering over to Yuji who shrugged. "More importantly, why are we meeting up in Harajuku?"
"Because it’s what she asked for." Gojo replied as he started to walk, brushing shoulders with Y/N as he passed her, him sending her a little smirk as he did to which she immediately glared at, spinning around to follow behind.
"Hey, popcorn! I want some!"
...
As the group wandered through the grounds of the station, they came to a sudden halt at the sound of a females voice sounding agitated, when they each turned to look they caught sight of a girl no older than the two younger boys that was holding a mans collar, getting close to his face in a threatening demeanor.
"I’m sorry! Please let me go!" The mans voice echoed out, the girl scoffed dropping him before running her hand down her clothes legs in disgust.
"That’s kinda embarrassing." Itadori whispered, looking at the scene with wide eyes and his mouth a gape.
"So are you." The Fushiguros tutted out in unison, sending each other a look whilst switching their eyes towards the boy in question, nodding with a hum.
"Hey! Over here!" Gojo called out laughing, catching the girls attention as he starred to wave erratically.
"Damn, what’s up with that blindfold?" The newbie grumbled, walking towards the group with a sigh.
After they had collected the girl who they had gotten to know the name of- Nobara Kugisaki, she was a small, mousey brown haired girl with a fiery attitude, eyes bright and warm which was completely opposed to the other girl who stood there cold and calculating, Kugisaki would be lying if she said she wasnt intimidated my Y/N Fushiguro. The dark haired girl had been staring holes into the newbie ever since they had started towards the lockers, where they had ended up now.
"Okay, once again." Gojo noted, looking between the group, motioning to the new girl.
"Kugisaki Nobara. Be happy, boys. I’m the one woman in your group." Kugisaki stated to which yuji immediately looked up in confusion, eyes glancing over towards Y/N who was standing beside his sensei, arms folded, straight faced.
"What about- urm- Y/N?"
"I'm not in your year, therefore I wont be in your group and for that I am glad." She looked directly to the younger boy which made a sense of uneasiness wash over him due to the void look that was on her face, it seemed even more so emotionless than usual.
...
Fushiguro had morphed back to jujutsu high not long after the boys and kugisaki had taken a seat on their isle, she didnt have to patience to be sitting around doing nothing when she could be training or at least attempting to get better- her large wound hadn't been getting better as she thought it would, it had grown more achy and painful over the last couple of days but she couldnt affors for that to delay her.
So as of now, she was in the training court, sparring with the unmoving dummies that were layed out in a sequence within the room, a few would pop out mechanically to take her by surprise every so often but she wasnt held back by anything, she powered through, pushing the tiredness and pain aside she had long forgotten about that feeling, now focusing on the adrenaline that was pumping through her veins. She was only practicing the hand to hand combat for now as there were times where it would be needed and she had more than perfected using her technique, the only thing that bothered her was how it had failed her, putting her in a weak position.
She wasnt used to her technique becoming faulty, it had never done so before so that bothered her greatly.
"You should take a rest you know." She came to a halt in her movements, heavily breathing as her heart hammered against her ribcage.
"Since when have you ever wanted a student to rest Gojo." She turned her head to side eyes the male from overhear shoulder, squinting lightly as her eyes struggled to focus in the moment, she let out a long ragged breath moving to take a seat on one of the benches where she suggested through her duffel bag, pulling out a cold bottle of water that she instantly took large sips of.
"You're pushing yourself too hard." He said softly, sliding do sit on the bench next to her. He turned to look at her and even though he had his blindfold on, she could sense the questioning gaze he held. "You never answered me."
"Huh?"
"When I asked what happened to you, the morning after your return." He stated, crossing one of his legs over the other as he leant back against the stone wall behind him, arms crossing over his stomach.
"What do you think Satoru? I fought curses like I usually do." Y/N stood from the bench, keeping her head lowered only allowing her eyes to look down at her bag as she stuffed the water bottle back inside, zipping it up.
Satoru had known Y/N since she was twelve years old, when he was first assigned to take care and mentor her and a five year old megumi- she didnt really approve of him at first, not wanting him to come between her and her little brother who she had taken full responsibility for after their fathers disappearance at the young age she was, Y/N didnt even start to trust Gojo until she was around sixteen years old when she had come back with her first ever major injury after fighting a curse, he looked after her eventhough she had denied him many times, he hadn't given up and since then they had become close.
"I know that your hurting, your in pain but your far to stubborn to admit it and accept help." He pushed up from the bench to stand at her side, hand tugging at her elbow as she went to walk away. She kicked her foot along the ground, skimming her shoe as she breathed out, turning to look at him as he looked over her.
"Its not painful. Its perfectly tolerable- nothing I havent handle before." The girl ran a hand down her side, eyes widening for a mere second as she felt a damp patch on her vest top. The male had felt her tense slightly, he rose his brows, tilting his head down as his heightened senses allowed him to know exactly what the issue was.
"You're bleeding."
"Mhm only a little..." her voice trailed off towards the end, she looked up at Gojo furrowing her brows as her vision started to blur and his features started to morph and smooth over, She squinted tilting her head to the side, mumbling out his nice in a whisper like tone to which he had answered but the words didnt form in her head, it was all murmered. The only thing she felt was a hand that grasped at her arm, feeling herself fall back then everything went B L A C K.
{May or may not follow the actual plot, there will be a few changes- I dont own any original characters apart from Y/N Fushiguro.}
(Part one), (Part two)
Chapter One - I AM Y/N FUSHIGURO
...
The lights flickered erratically in the dark bathroom cubicle in one of the dorm rooms, a shadowed figure flashed in time with the lights before the bulb popped leaving the room to be a blank space in an abyss. The figure crossed an arm along their stomach, wincing in pain as a warm liquid hit their hands, the other hand roamed around and slid into one of the open pockets of the gowned jacket they wore, pulling out a phone which they immediately scrolled through the device to turn on the flash groaning when an orb reflected from the mirror before them and hit their eyes.
"Fuck-" a feminine voice echoed through the air, croaky and soft- also known as the voice of Y/N Fushiguro, she had been assigned a mission over three days ago and hadn't been able to make it back until today, evidently returning with more than just a minor injury.
Her face was pretty clean apart from the red irritated scratch that ran across her left cheek to the top of her lip, but what was more than worrying was the overly large gash that ran across the right hand side of her torso down to her hip where her hand was currently clutching to add pressure relieving some of the pain and the blood flow that was pooling through the gaps of her fingers.
Never had she ever been this injured when on a mission, she always came back with the odd cut and bruise but nothing too deep or crucial. The curse that she had just thought seemed to be stronger than most, its body was a light shy tone with a crumpled face as of where the mouth opened like a flower and it had three white eyes which suggested it was blind although it looked to be smarter than any other as it had been strong enough to out-smart the female fushiguro and render her weak.
The girl stumbled towards the wooden cabinet that stood in the back corner, thrusting open the middle sqaure cove harshly making the board slam against the wall beside it. She reached inside to grab a hold of the small translucent box, rushing back over to the counter by the sink and the mirror, eyes already being adjusted to the dark aura of the room.
After opening the box she instantly pulled out the gauze bandages, a thin sharp pointed needle, some rubbing alcohol and a think piece of dark thread that she pierced through the tip of the needle tying of the end so it was ready for her to use. She grasped a paper towel piece that was laying around, popping the lid from the bottle before pouring a generous amount of the liquid onto it, peeling her shirt off, only to quickly press the liquid soaked material into the wound making a hiss rumble in her throat.
She made sure the wound was cleansed before picking up the threaded needle between her thumb and forefinger, bringing the sharp edge down to the end of the large gash, pushing to allow it to pierce the skin there.
...
A loud banging sound brought Y/N out of her slumber, a sequence of knocks ranged on her door. She grumbled lowly, pushing herself up from the thin mattress that she layed on, a gasp passing her lips when a shock of pain ran up her right side, reminding her about the events from the nights prior.
"Y/N. Y/N. Y/NNNNNNN-" Satorus voice came from the other side of the door, a playful tone tugging at the depths of his voice. Once she reached the door, grasping at the brass handle, tugging it open roughly which nearly made the white haired, blindfolded male fall through.
"What do you wan-"
"What happened to you?!" His sudden alarmed voice cut her short when he some how sensed her injury, catching sight of the gauze on her right hip, making her aware that she was infact wearing no shirt now but was luckily still clad in a sports bra that still had some blood staining on the underside. And she had come to take notice that it wasnt only story that was present but alongside him stood a pink haired boy, who was looking rather sheepishly at her with an small awkward smile.
"Its nothing Gojo." She replied bluntly, looking at him with boredom lacing her eyed as usual before she peered back at the other boy raising an eyebrow. "Who's this-"
"Aha this is Yuji Itadori, sukunas new vessel." Gojo noticed how she had switched the subject quickly, but he wasnt at all surprised by her actions, infact he was kind of expecting that to happen, it was something Y/N Fushiguro always did to avoid attention and take a conversation elsewhere so it wasnt fully focused on her. He turned back to the young student, nodding his head towards the girl, "This is Y/N Fushiguro."
"S-so is she related to megumi?"
"Yeah hes my kid brother." She answered eventhough the question was directed towards Gojo to answer. Yuji could now see the resemblance between the two, the dark calculating eyes, structured facial features although still withholding a baby face that pieced together perfectly, not to forget about the black hair.
The sound of a door creaking open caught the trio's attention, each of their heads turning to face a disheveled megumi who looks to have just woken up, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck before coming to ruffle at his hair, his dark eyes locking onto the three who were stood a couple dorm doors away from him.
"Erk… You’re next door?" The ravenette scowled, his nose scrunching as his eyes focused on the pink haired boy in question.
"Oh, Fushiguro! You look like you’re doing well now!" Yuji exclaimed, a look of excitement flashing across his features when speaking to the boy.
"There were plenty of other empty rooms, weren’t there?" Megumi rose a brow, now switching to gaze to his teacher.
"But isn’t livelier better? I thought it’d be good for-"
"Classes and missions are enough. This was an unwelcome favor." Gojos words were cut off by the megumi's, his tone becoming annoyed as he grumbled lowly. He looked boredly at Yuji who he had been peering inside his room, a surprised look coming to his face.
"Wow, it’s so organized!"
"I just said you’re unwelcome!" His eyes then suddenly landed to his sister, trailing down to her torso where he spotted the bandage covering her hip, eyebrows furrowing as he also caught sight of the little blotches of blood that had been seeping through and were soaked into her sports bra, his eyes wandered back up to her face not failing to notice the lengthy scratch. "What happened to you?"
"Its nothing gumi, dont worry about it." She huffed, spinning on the ball of her foot to walking back inside her dorm only to be followed by the younger boy who sent one last look towards Gojo and Yuji, proceeding to shut the door behind him.
"It doesnt look like nothing." He walked across the room towards the small bathroom that was attached to the dorm, hovering in the door frame with his arms crossed and a stern look crossing his features.
"Its fine, I'm okay- nothing I cant handle, alright?" Y/N glanced back at him for a second, turning back to face the mirror as she peeled back the gauze, getting a closer look at the wound in the light that now filled the room as opposed to lastnight. It didnt at all seem to look 'fine' as she put it, in fact it was all ridged on the outline where the claws of the curse ragged through the skin and it had looked even worse with the job she had done on it last night after seeing it up, the outer corner looked to be an irritated red colour and little bit of purple crept at the surface. "Shit-"
"That doesnt look fine does it." Although it would normally be a question, megumi had said this in a more stated tone.
"S'just a scratch- a very big one." She hushed her voice towards the end but obviously not quiet enough as her brother clicked his tongue at her response, looking at her through he reflection of the mirror where their eyes had met. Y/N huffed, pushing the edges of the gauze back down over the wound, turning so she was now facing megumi, a look of guilt and sorrow forming in her eyes. "I-I'll be alright gumi, I promise. Everything will be alright."
