#Flight Surgeon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 1 month ago

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=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- MDNI- Warnings- overuse/incorrect use of prescription meds, angsty asf in places, scene of a medical procedure, heavy subject matter, some sexual tension. Reader, 26, Dr. Gojo 34- Grey's vibes -Angsty and emotional, mentions of pregnancy and loss of pregnancy, mentions of surgery and blood, light smut scene, mostly a ton of drama and feelings

=͟͟͞♡ Part eight =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist

Part Nine

You’ve never been on a helicopter.

Doctor Gojo is helping you up into it, as you two are about to ride over to the next city’s hospital to get the heart for Choso. You’re just a little nervous as the loud chopper starts, he places the earphones on you and then himself, brushing his fingers across your cheek delicately as he does for a moment, you feel him wrap his arm around your waist when you jolt a bit as you all take off.

“Nervous sweetheart?” You barely hear him, moreso reading his lips, nodding. “C’mere.”

Satoru brings your face against his neck, soothing as you cling to him and try to lose yourself in that embrace, to not pay attention to the flight, the height, the loud noises. You don’t outwardly say it, but you’re terrified of heights, planes, all of it, and avoid them completely, yet you’d basically begged to come along with him.

This was important, this was Choso’s life at stake, one of the sweetest men you have ever met, who deserves to live more than anyone does. Satoru knows how attached you have gotten, you’re always attached in general to your patients. It's your biggest weakness and strength, but in this case it was very important to be there for him as you were the most comforting presence for him.

He needs strength and will to survive a serious surgery, even under the most experienced surgeon in it there was. Satoru specialized in cardiovascular surgery, though he was a general surgeon as well, that was his level of higher expertise. His hand is soothing as you lay against his chest, feeling his heart beat so steady and slow, from years of athletics when he was younger.

You wish yours would slow just a bit but it’s racing.

You’re starting to learn more and more about him, but the more you learn, the deeper you fall, and that in itself is scary, it’s concerning, the love building more and more in a potentially devastating relationship. Giving up on the idea of family for Satoru was eating you alive the more and more you grow attached, and you wish the lingering thoughts weren’t there.

He holds you close, thinking of the words you spoke earlier, the way they broke his heart. Choso had said you’d be a great mother, and you agreed, and it’s not that Satoru disagrees. You would be. He does not know if it’s still in your mind, as you snuggle close to him, your breath against his chest, cheek resting against his lavender scrubs.

He never wants to let you go.

“It’s a quick ride, okay?” He says, you nod, squeezing him tighter, and he loves the feeling of you needing him, when you’re so strong and independent. Something makes every protective urge increase, holding you so close, unworried if other people can see the two of you.

It’s a quick ride as you descend onto the helicopter pad, he helps you down, hands on your waist, lingering as the chopper blades slow, blowing your hair around just so until it’s messy. He brushes it back gently, just touching you in any way makes him ache to do so every moment, to just constantly have some part of you touching him, like a deep need that grows every moment.

Not just the sexual moments, just everything about you.

“Ready to get this heart?” You smile, so pretty it makes his chest tighten, grabbing the cooler and then taking his hand.

“Let’s do this.”

Soon Satoru is cutting a chest with a scalpel, you’re watching curiously, a mixture of adrenaline and too many feelings rushing through you as you see him perform with a skilled, steady hand. He’s meticulous in how he slices the skin open, but a part of you feels for whoever this heart did belong to, this person who is no longer there, clinically dead by all accounts.

But your mind wanders, who were they? They’re young, a tragic car accident that leaves moments for everyone to gather what they need.

Other doctors are all waiting, coolers in their interns’ hands, as they prepare to take all the organs as quickly as they can. Of course everything is important and will save many lives, but the heart was the most important. Satoru eyes you carefully over those glasses, brilliant blue eyes a calm storm at this moment, and you eye him back, smiling a bit under your mask.

You feel it, the tension even now, how deeply the two of you feel and how much more is left unspoken, but in this moment you just watch him intensely, as does everyone in the room, while he carefully separates the chest bone and rib cage. You’ve seen it done over video several times but this is the first time you’ve been that close to it.

Satoru quickly and with precise, effortless movements with skilled precision, everyone watches quietly, including his fellow doctors. Satoru carefully severs the last attachment, his hand moving with a quickness under those latex gloves. You come over quickly with the cooler, and you carefully take it.

Putting it delicately in the ice filled cooler, inside the saline bag, so precious you feel the pressure from it, from knowing how important it is. Choso’s chance at a good life, at not being in and out of hospitals over and over. You quickly close it as Satoru nods to the other doctors, and they each individually begin to take what other parts they need.

You can’t say you don’t feel just a little sick, panicking every which way it could go warm as you both leave, Satoru taking off his gloves and cleaning up as you tentatively put the cooler down for a moment and do the same. “You did it so quickly.”

“Have to, sweets, we don’t have much time here.” He dries his hands and leans down, planting a kiss on your head. “Are you doing okay?”

“I am, promise.” He smiles just a bit.

“I’ve done quite a few of them, and all were successful. He’ll make it, okay?”

“I just… really need to be there.”

“Of course,” the two of you head back, this time the trip isn’t quite as scary for you, as you’re a little used to it now, clutching the cooler to you tightly. “It’ll be okay.”

He keeps reassuring you, even as you all land, like this is just another day for him, and it is. Even though rare, this hospital is the number one in the country for transplants, heavily due to Satoru, though Nanami and Suguru also are highly experienced in all sorts of transplants and surgeries.

When you arrive at the hospital, it’s like a well-oiled machine as always, when you all descend from the helicopter. The doors fly open, nurses and doctors rushing to greet you all, Maki is there walking with you as you clutch the cooler, and are reluctant to let it go even for just a moment. Satoru leans in, whispering in your ear, “We got this, it’s all gonna be fine. You go calm him down, okay?”

You’re doing just that later, as he’s about to go under, he’s the picture of calm with his cute little smile.

“You’re getting first hand experience, aren’t ya doc?” He teases, and you grin, checking his vitals as the anesthesiologist administers the correct dose.

“I am gonna see all of you. All your insides.”

“You’re so freaky.” You giggle at that, softly smiling behind your mask as Satoru comes in, eyeing the two of you, donned in that white lab coat and the magnifying goggles, making his blue eyes insane to look at. You see his eyes crinkle at the corners as he clearly smiles behind his mask as well.

“You’re in excellent hands, Choso.” You say softly, looking at Satoru.

“The best I hear.” Choso says, yawning a bit now, eyes getting just a little heavy, until he murmurs your name and drifts off.

“Are you ready to assist, intern?” Satoru is the ultimate professional in the huge, freezing cold OR, the smell of alcohol permeating in your nostrils, as you stand right by his side.

“I’m ready, Dr. Gojo.”

As Satoru starts the surgery, you begin passing him instruments, as Satoru cuts Choso’s chest open, that felt so different than before, this was someone you’ve already grown to care about, and you feel just anxious and so faint. But you also watch how perfect every one of Satoru’s movements are, as he separates the chest bone and opens up the rib cage so that he can operate on the heart.

It’s small, the heart that has done way more than it ever should have, you notice then, helping clamp down as Satoru begins the process of removing it, and that’s where it’s down to moments, years of his knowledge, and you trust him implicitly, working quietly by his side while others watch. Maki, Yuta, Toge, and many of the nurses and interns are all avidly watching the surgery from above.

Satoru quietly orders the nurses there in the OR, and then he removes the heart, as the new one is placed. He begins to sew the donor heart into place, attaching all the major blood vessels so quickly but also he makes sure they’re perfect. To watch him work like this is entrancing.

“Here, clip this av.” He orders softly, you do just that, holding the clamp down as Satoru starts working on the blood vessels to the donor heart. It’s already been a long time, just prepping, opening, but this part he does tediously, he’s quiet, but he’s so calm. You hold your breath as Satoru starts the delicate process of connecting it to the surrounding tissue and remaining blood vessels.

Calm because of the meds, you have to wonder, is that how Satoru maintains this?

It can’t just be that, even though he surely thinks so.

There’s much more to that, to him, the natural talent of the way his fingers perform surgeries is profound, like he was just made for it. Once the heart is fully attached, it’s utter silence, as you wait to hear if the heart will begin beating, you panic when it doesn’t, eyeing Choso’s sleeping face.

“It’s normal not to. Let’s shock it.” He says quietly, his presence so calming in that room, you instantly do just that, shocking the red organ, and then it begins to beat, the monitor stops its flatline.

Satoru takes a step back, and the heart monitor starts to beep. It’s a slow, steady rhythm, a sound that fills the room with relief. Choso’s new heart is beating, and the room lets out a breath, including you, but Satoru simply smiles, admiring the strong beat of the heart.

“And we are successful, team.” He murmurs, the people up above are clapping, and the team of doctors now works to stitch him back together. You’re trembling as you keep eyeing the monitor, the strong, steady beats. “It’s been hours,” he says later, after you all had cleaned up. “Go take a nap, sweetheart.”

“I can’t, I have to go check-”

“He’ll be asleep for hours.” Satoru grabs you a coffee as you yawn again. “Go lay in one of the bunks before you fall over.”

“That was insane, Satoru. The way you worked? The way you just… everything about it.” You sip your bitter coffee, and he smiles a bit, not looking the tiniest bit exhausted.

“Take a nap, I’ll wake you up if there’s any signs he’s up early. Okay?” Satoru’s gently brushing a finger against your wrist, you panic just a bit, looking around.

“Satoru…”

“Would it be so bad if we told them?” He murmurs then, you feel a few eyes upon you all, it wasn’t as if they didn’t know, they surely had rumors spreading around of the two of you.

“You’re suddenly very serious, mr. bachelor.” You tease then, and he frowns, not the reaction you expected.

“You don’t think I’m serious?” You shake your head, trying to shake off any of the extreme fatigue you’ve felt grow all week.

“I’m sorry, just so tired. I should nap.” You touch his hand gently, then smile a bit, walking off, trying to calm your heart, your tummy, just in knots.

*****

Satoru was not just perfect as a doctor, he was a caring and loving boyfriend, he genuinely loves you, you feel it in his every look, every movement, but it makes it that much more devastating that you see all you can’t have with him. You let the exhaustion finally win for a bit when you shut off the lights and climb into the bunk, letting yourself rest for a few blissful moments.

The dreams are harder than the reality.

In them, it’s Satoru and he’s touching your tummy, and he’s so happy, you should immediately know it is a dream from just that alone, but it takes so long to register that you’re in a dream. You’re tossing and turning when Satoru comes in a couple hours later to check on you, and he can’t help but lay next to you on the bunk he’s way too tall for, caressing your cheek.

“Satoru…” you’re murmuring his name in your sleep.

He watches you, he does that when you stay over, once you caught him and called him a creep, but he can’t help but love to watch it. “So beautiful.”

You blink a bit, opening your eyes, and he notices they’re glassy and full of tears, making his heart ache. “Satoru…”

“What’s wrong? Honey he’s fine. I came to tell you he’s stable.” You shake your head, unable to speak the words that are stuck in your throat, instead burying your face against his neck, trembling. “Baby…”

“Just a dream.” You’re sobbing more and more now, uncontrollably, as he holds you so close, his silky white locks brushing your cheek as he nuzzles your neck.

“A bad dream?” You shake your head. “Talk to me.”

“It was a beautiful dream, but it’ll never happen.” He looks confused as he pulls back, looking down at you, blinking beautiful eyes, snowy lashes casting dark shadows over his cheeks in the dark room.

“What won’t?” You can’t say anymore, you can’t try to change Satoru.

“Just kiss me.” He does just that, lips descending in the quiet of the room, the rustle of his hands against your scrubs, the shifting of his body making the shitty little bed creak. “Mmm…”

“God, baby,” he’s slipping his fingers under your scrub top, brushing them against your bare tummy that trembles under it, his practiced fingers that saved a life today, so delicate yet firm as they touch you. His lips work over yours, as your tears spill, salty against his lips. “Baby you sure you’re okay?”

“Just tired, Satoru.” He slips his hand up, cupping you over your bra, thumb brushing a nipple that’s sensitive, making you cry out ever so softly.

“Do you want to sleep a little more, or…” he’s kissing his plump lips along the corners of your mouth. “Want me to make you feel so good?”

“Please,” your breathy whisper has Satoru’s cock throbbing, if it wasn’t risky enough to pleasure you in this moment, he’d be shoving his cock in your perfect little hole, feeling you quiver around him.

“Want my fingers, or my mouth?” His words tickle against your ear with his breath, and you feel his hand slip low, under the stretch band of your blue scrub bottoms, finding you and moaning.

“Fingers we can act like we’re just napping if they walk in,” you tease, he smirks at you then. “Plus those fingers are amazing.”

“They are, aren’t they?” He’s chuckling as you lose yourself in his kisses, shoving back that pretty dream, and just being here, being present, while his finger rubs you over your panties, making you whine.

“Toru…” He’s leaking pre against his boxers when you say that sweet little nickname, when your hands grip the lapels of his white lab coat, and he’s playing your pussy in the quiet room. It’s so wet, you can hear it, the clicking as he runs his fingers side to side, watching you.

“God you’re beautiful,” he’s sending you with a few rolls of his fingers, bringing you to wriggle, hips bucking up for more, as he studies every bit of your face so intently, slipping that finger down your slit. “Look at you, fuck.”

You feel so beautiful when he says that, when he looks at you like this, trembling and rolling your hips for more, your own hands slipping up his shoulders, lost in the dark rings of blue on his eyes. “Need more.”

“Later, brat.” You pout and he grins at that, pressing a kiss on your brow, then your nose as his fingers slip in your soppy little hole. “God, so tight.”

“Want you in me, I lied.” He’s shaking with his laughter, while he curls that finger up just so, moving it up against your g spot as the gasps and whines ring in his ears.

“Be a good girl and cum, then I’ll let you have all of me tonight.” The words sound so husky, so vulnerable, it breaks your heart into pieces to think you won’t truly have all of him, but as much as he’s willing to give you in these beautiful moments.

That has to be enough.

“Close, I feel it, let go baby,” Satoru’s words ring in your ear, and you do feel that pressure, how you’re clamping down on his finger, feeling the texture of the thick digit as it crooks up, as his thumb presses your twitchy clit all while he’s watching you, never taking his fucking eyes off. “That’s it, be good for me.”

You’re done for, teeth clamping down, hand over your mouth as you gush and squirt down his angled finger, his hands, slipping down all over your panties and scrubs. He moans at how much you do cum, dying to fuck into you, cum inside you. But he knows it’s not exactly the best moment as he has another surgery on the board, so instead he ruts his cock against your hand that’s reached down.

“Lemme make you cum,” you’re whispering, blinking slowly. He shakes his head. “Let me.”

“In your hand!? No. I’m thirty four not eighteen.” He pulls away with a whimper, as you giggle, but then he’s got you cumming again, and your thighs are gripping his hand, making him wince.

“Sensitive!” He relishes in your hushed whisper, smirking so damn attractive, pulling back his hand finally, slipping it into your mouth then.

“Suck, sweetheart,” you do just that, sucking his fingers, up and down like you want to do his cock so badly, and the sight almost makes him spurt hot cum, he barely holds his composure. “God, so fucking sexy.”

“Mmm,” he’s pulling his saliva coated fingers back now, kissing your sweet arousal off your lips. “I feel so much better.”

“I’m quite the doctor.” You giggle, as he kisses you, leaning up finally and caressing your cheek. You kiss him softly, sighing, carding your fingers through his silky soft locks.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” his words resonate, hitting your fucking soul, the way he looks at you and touches you, everything shows his words are true, making it radiate through your body slowly. “What was the dream?”

You freeze up then, fingers pausing, looking down. “I can’t really say.”

“You can tell me fucking anything baby, don’t you know?” You blink a bit, tears forming all over again, and he leans up, lips pursed just a bit. “Is it about me?”

“Yes but nothing bad, just… jumbled. I can’t put it together.”

“You suck at lying.” You sigh, looking away, but he turns your chin to him. “It’s just a dream you say, but you were crying.”

“It was something that can’t happen.” You don’t get to elaborate, the door opens and he eases back a bit, the two of you look like you’re laying and talking as Suguru walks in, yawning.

“We gonna cuddle?” He teases, poking at your shoulder, and Satoru scowls at him while you giggle.

“No cuddling her. Only me.” You’re tugged against him as Suguru climbs to the top bunk, chuckling a bit.

“I see, don’t fuck loud please I want a nap.”

“We weren’t fucking!”

“Uh uh,” he doesn’t believe you clearly. “Nap time.”

“I have to get up, actually.” You yawn once more, Satoru is watching you carefully, something unreadable in his gaze.

“Gonna go check on him?” You expect the hints of jealousy or him being pouty as usual, but he’s calm as he asks and you nod, pecking a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you after the shift?”

“Yeah of course.” Your pretty smile tugs at Satoru’s heart before you run off and leave him with your scent filling his nostrils, hugging a pillow tightly.

“What’s with you?” He hears Suguru up there, and he frowns, turning on his back and staring up at the bunk bed, fingers dancing across cool metal bars.

“I don’t think I’m good enough for her.”

“Probably not.”

“Suguru!”

“I’m kidding. Kind of.” Satoru glares, and he hopes Suguru feels it, but he chuckles instead. “Why do you say all that?”

“I just think she’d be settling on a lot of things with me.”

“That’s fucking weird of you to say,” Suguru’s words are true, Satoru has been nothing but cocky his entire life. “What do you even mean?”

“The family thing, the marriage thing.”

“I mean it's still early, it’s normal not to want that until you’re more serious.”

“She’s all I’ll ever want,” his words are just a little broken, and there are a couple moments of contemplative silence. “There’s no one else.”

“I figured so, after that locker room incident,” his words are quiet, Satoru chuckles a bit without humor. “So then let her know that.”

Not knowing the conversation going on in that room, you’re drinking another cup of coffee, going over to see Choso now in the ICU. You pass Maki and she grins at you. “You did so good in that surgery, babe, he’s already awake.”

“He is!? Shit I wanted to be there.” Maki tosses back her dark hair, gently brushing a hand on your shoulder.

“He’s okay, he’s great actually. I told him you were napping.”

“You did?” You sigh in relief, hugging her then. “You’re the best.”

“Go on,” you run over to the room and see Choso, hooked up to an IV and several cords to monitor his every vital sign, he’s smiling at you as you rush in.

“Choso!” He chuckles a bit as you carefully take his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling so big at him.

“You saved me twice now, I think I need to make it up to you.” You shake your head, feeling emotional as you now look at the monitor, seeing a strong, steady heartbeat.

“You just stay healthy, yeah? That would make me very happy.” He nods, thumb brushing your knuckles gently, lashes lowering a bit.

“I know you and Dr. Gojo are probably together,” you tense a bit at that, his violet eyes look up at you. “He’s pretty awesome, so even if I’m jealous I can’t hate him, he gave me a heart.”

“He is pretty awesome, are you jealous?” your teasing words make him laugh, then he winces, you put a hand on his chest, as his heart rate quickens. “So jealous you’re spiking.”

“I guess so,” he murmurs, pink cheeked with embarrassment. “I would ask you for dinner if you were single, you know.”

“Oh, would you now, to thank me? For being your angel?” You’re teasing, checking his incision line now.

“Yes, I would,” he answers, a hand on your wrist now. “You are.”

“You’re always too sweet.” You let his hand go gently, assessing the work Satoru did. “Looks perfect, Satoru is so good at stitches.”

“It’s gonna be an even better scar than before.” You laugh again, pushing the button for his pain medicine. “The good stuff.”

“Mmhmm, it is. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He pauses you with your name. “Hmm?”

“Thank you for saving me.” His words make you feel so much then, so much relief you tear up, dimming his lights now.

“Of course, you just get rest okay?” He smiles at you, when you shut the door you lean against it, sighing and swiping at your eyes, Satoru sees you, walking up quickly with long strides across the squeaky clean hospital floor.

“You okay? Everything look good?” You nod, wanting to let him just hold you, but trying to hold back, knowing where you are. His hand pauses in the air next to your cheek for a moment, longing to touch your skin.

“You did amazing, I’m just so relieved.” He swipes a tear regardless of who looks, seeing just how caring you are, how attached you get. It should be a bad thing for a doctor, but he loves it about you.

“Should be proud of yourself, just a few months interning and you did open heart surgery with me. That’s pretty badass.” You giggle through your tears, when both of your beepers go off, and you both sigh. “Work is never done.”

“No it isn’t.” This was a car crash victim, luckily no major injuries, you end up stitching some wounds and disinfecting as your shift ends, soon meeting Satoru in the locker room as you both get changed. “I want a nice hot bath.”

“I’ll run you one,” his voice is practically a purr. “Come stay with me.”

“You stay with me, I always come over.” You let out a little yawn, hand over your mouth as you do.

“Toge hates me, and I think Maki and Yuta wanna beat me up.” He’s pouting, making you laugh softly again, slipping a sweater over yourself, but not before he presses a kiss on your breasts over your bra.

“Mnh!” He’s cupping them and moaning softly, in the quiet of the room at night, thumbs brushing your nipples over lace. “Sensitive.”

“You said that earlier, pmsing?” He teases, and you frown a bit. “Baby, period sex won’t bother me one bit if you’re worried.”

“No, no, not worried.” You mentally calculate then, sitting down and just blinking, he slips on his sweater and then sits with you on the bench.

“What’s up?”

How long since…

You and Satoru hooked up for the first time about six weeks ago, you typically get your period the last week of the month - but you haven’t. Your mental math says then it’s been 2 periods as of today, you’re supposed to be on it. You frown, grabbing your purse and counting the birth control pills, feeling him tense next to you. You haven’t missed any, and haven’t taken any extra.

“Shit.” Satoru’s fists clench, while your stomach drops.

“Don’t tell me you skipped it,” his words are deadly quiet, just a whisper, and you already hear it, the frustration. “I just scheduled the vasectomy.”

“You scheduled it? Without telling me?” He frowns deeper, looking away.

“We talked about it.”

“I didn’t agree!”

“You don’t really get to agree, but it looks like maybe too late for us to not have…” Your hand darts to your tummy then.

“I could just be stressed,” he shakes his head. “I am stressed!”

“Sure but the nipples?”

“I don’t know, I guess… I’ll have to take a test.” He says nothing, absolutely nothing, as your mind goes in circles. “Will you leave me if I keep it?”

“What!?” His blue eyes widen, your tears start to fall hot and sticky trails down your cheeks.

“Will you leave me?” You ask again, his mouth is wide open at you.

“No, shit, you think that?”

“What else can I think?” You stand up, trembling now. “I’ll take a test in the morning and see.”

“Right, okay.” He doesn’t move, he doesn’t do anything, just sitting there.

“I didn’t miss any, I’m not on antibiotics, I take them at the same time. It could be nothing.”

“Right.” He repeats again, even quieter.

“You’ll hate me if I am.”

“No, I won’t.” He grips your wrist tightly, you can’t even meet his eyes, your own are burning from a mixture of exhaustion and stress, “Look at me.”

“What if I can’t handle the disappointment in your eyes?”

“Look at me.” He orders again, gripping your shoulders over that soft material, your heart thuds loudly in your chest, you do just that, meeting his gaze. “I will not hate you, and I will not leave you. Even if it’s not what I want, I would never just fucking do that to you.”

“You won’t hate me?” He shakes his head, heart breaking for you then, your lip is trembling as the tears make your eyes glassy. “Resent me?”

“It’s not intentional, so no. If you are, we both caused it. I’ll… we’ll figure the shit out I guess. Okay? We don’t even know right now.”

“Right, you’re right. I don’t want to lose you,” he kisses your bitten lips, trying to smooth those teeth indentations with his own mouth. “I may need to just… be with Maki when I take it. Is that okay?”

“Of course, I know you two are close. You have tomorrow off right?”

“I do.”

“We’ll spend the day together. Whatever it says. I love you so fucking much, even if I know I’d be shit at parenting, I’d never leave you for it. Okay?” You nod weakly, as he presses gentle kisses against your cheeks.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Satoru. I love you too.” He gets in more kisses as he walks you to your car, you see the fog of both of your breaths linger in the air as you meld into each other, sighing and holding each other so tightly. You will hate yourself forever if you make him miserable like that.

But you can’t imagine not having one if you are.

Later after buying a test and looking at the result with Maki by your side, you’re not even sure how you feel. Are you excited, terrified, nervous? Your career is just starting, this will make everything change, while you wanted this later in life absolutely, this was not how you pictured it.

Also, Satoru says he won’t resent you, but how can you believe that, when he is so adamant against this all? How can you know if he won’t, even if it’s deep down under wraps? Will he think you planned it, and not just resent you but the baby too? It’s so many thoughts you just feel sick, so sick Maki is holding your hair up as you throw up everything in the toilet.

“Shit babe, you’re a mess,” she murmurs, cleaning your lips, you just sigh and hold her. “And knocked up.”

“I know, fuck. God what should I do?” You look up into her emerald eyes, and she shakes her head a bit, stroking back your hair.

“I can’t tell you that, but you very much are knocked up. You know how babies are made, right?”

“Shut it.” You giggle a bit, before getting sick again.

*****

On your day off you’re laying in bed, rotting away and terrified to answer Satoru’s phone calls. And there are many, but how can you tell him his life is over as he knows it, when you know how badly he never wanted that to happen? You also feel so exhausted, it’s been coming for weeks, the exhaustion, you thought from just work, but now perhaps more.

By the early afternoon, someone bangs on your door.

“Go away.”

“Open up, now.” You hear it, Satoru’s voice, you’re trembling just a bit as you lift off the blankets, walking to it and twisting it, seeing his angry expression, his eyes this frightening bright shade of blue, jaw set. “You avoiding me, really?”

“You showing up like a psycho, really?” Satoru opens the door as you try to shut it now. “Let me wallow away in misery.”

“No, sure the fuck won’t. Talk to me.” He gently pushes himself right into your room, the floorboards creaking under his sneakers, he’s just wearing jeans and a sweater right now, as he shuts the door behind him and looks at you. “You look like a hot mess.”

“I am just a mess.” He sighs, cupping your face now. “I have an answer that you’ll hate, and I’m avoiding it.”

“So you… are.” He swallows, nervous as he touches your brow. “You’re sweating and warm.”

“I guess hiding under blankets,” you do feel just a bit dizzy though, swaying ever so slightly. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” He immediately goes into doctor mode, assessing you through the haze of his own drugs, he’d taken several bars today while you ignored him, right now he’s dying to snort ten. But he will keep his damn promise, even if the not knowing was killing him.

“Nothing, I’m preg-” you pause again, feeling another wave of dizziness, taking several breaths. “I’m preg-”

“Pregnant, I know I figured that shit already. But what are you… hey, sit down, shit,” Satoru gently leads you back to the bed, as you almost collapse on it, feeling the beads of sweat on your brow drip across your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Toru will you hate me forever?” He glares now.

“I told you I wouldn’t.”

“Resent me?”

“I… no… you’re sweating more and your color is off, the fuck is up?” He narrows his eyes, assessing you further.

“Blood sugar maybe? I haven’t eaten,” he curses softly, cupping your cheek delicately in one hand.

“I’ll go grab something for you, okay?” You nod weakly, vision just a bit distorted, your hands are shaking once he’s gone and you hold them out for assessment, feeling yourself fade.

Panic attack?

Blood sugar?

Blood pressure?

You shake out your hands, trying to breathe, but you don’t get to see Satoru return with food that he inevitably drops, not when you’re collapsed on the fucking floor, crumbled up. When he finds you, so helpless on the floor curled in a ball, he’s panicking, trying to wake you, tears falling as he assesses every bit and feels your skin is now burning.

“Shit, baby, shit,” he’s cursing softly, the last thing you’d done is look at him with all this damn worry, wondering if he’ll be gone, did the stress cause this!? He picks you up in his arms, and your friends quickly gather.

“What happened!?” Maki whispers, brushing your hair back, seeing your unconscious head bobble just a bit. “Gojo what is it!?”

“I don’t know, she’s burning up and sweating, she wasn’t finishing sentences. I need to get her checked.”

“We’ll come with you.”

Satoru’s soon hooking you up to an IV, ever so carefully pressing one into your veins, worried you must be dehydrated, malnourished, you never eat and live off coffee, and being pregnant? That could only escalate everything. He orders up a full panel of blood work as he tries to find out just what is happening, pumping you with antibiotics, with fever reducers.

You just don’t wake up.

Your heart rate has jumped up then, you’re shaking your head back and forth as Shoko walks in, assessing you quickly. “She’s pregnant?”

“Yeah,” his soft answer is met with exhausted eyes. For an hour he has been unable to wake you, every moment that goes by achingly slow. “Can you check to make sure everything is alright?”

“Of course, how far along?” Satoru sighs, as Shoko starts bringing the ultrasound machine over.

“Can’t be a month or two, just barely.” Shoko frowns a bit after the screen lights up. “What!?”

“Shit,” her answer terrifies him then. She’s moving the wand lower, slipping your top further up, revealing a still flat stomach.

“Shit what, Shoko? What is wrong?”

“Let me do a different ultrasound.” She’s not answering him, instead doing a transvaginal, all while Satoru is losing his fucking mind. Satoru stares hopelessly at the screen then as he sees it, clear as day.

“Tubal?” His words are hoarse, Shoko sighs, nodding. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck this are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, we’re best to do a laparoscopy if we can. And I need to do it right now, she has this fever and fainted from it.”

“Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.” He’s shaking as he covers his face, shaking his head now. “She’ll lose her tube then?”

“I’m the best in my field at it, I will try to make sure she doesn’t but, of course it’s a risk, and risk that she’ll get another.” Satoru’s heart shatters into a million fucking pieces. Shoko walks past him, a hand briefly on his shoulder. “I need her in surgery now, if you can’t keep it together-”

“I can. I will.” He swipes at his tears and she nods, leaving you alone with just him in the room, as he stares at the screen with the photo paused on it.

There’s no chance of having this baby of course, but he’d be damned if you lose the ability, whether it’s with him or someone better, he sure the fuck wasn’t letting you lose it. He thinks about the hurtful way he said things before to you, the day that baby died and you were so devastated, the casual way he told you what he’d do if you had a baby, the panic on your face as you told him.

It all sinks in, while you’re immediately prepped for the surgery - if it failed, they’d have to be invasive, if it ruptured, you could potentially never have children with just one tube. Even if you could, the risk of another rupturing would be substantial, he’s not in the same field as Shoko but he’s still seen it.

Satoru never wanted them, but for a brief moment he saw it, the life with you, that he’d make it work somehow, that you’d be so happy to have a baby that he could learn to love it with you. Now it seems a cruel joke on you, while you’re asleep on the operating table, and Satoru gets the scalpel, making a tiny incision in your pelvis, tearing precious skin off the girl he is in love with.

He has to keep his fucking composure.

He has to keep his hands steady.

No amount of xanax however can stop the nausea of watching Shoko Ieri insert that thin tube that has the camera inside of you, little by little ever so carefully, and it all starts coming to view. She is the best with this, with babies and c sections and miscarriages, but the sick feeling makes him sweat, makes his heart race.

If you weren’t okay after this, how could he live with the hurt you’d face?

This chap was so depressing my bad lol this story is heavier than my usual </3 DW reader will be okay and so will Choso though no one is dying on my watch, dammit

tags- @lostfracturess @unfortunately-tia @allofffmypeaches @makingtimemine @antisocialinlw @meg3mis @zoeyflower @wstaley2 @bunheadusa @blue-musingss @ameliariddle @labelt-san @jkslaugh97 @shadeowz @gojo1228 @jaeminaur @httpstoyosi @angel1of-death @seeing-stars-alt @bol0-de-morang0 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @trishiepo0 @inthedarkshadows000 @gina239 @pelicanpizza @gojo1228 @ducky1232 @inthedarkshadows000 @eclecticmentalitypersona @burguhndy @levislug @addehehe @sluttyofgojo @msniks @xixflower @ambiguouslady42 @kiaraandrea @jjknanamin @suguruscousin @silverfangmarks @atiny-99 @thatssoambs @kanekisheart @mahalsuya @kimkimoruo @hoelynecujoh @ravenbc @abiiebibie @procastinatingbitch

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jujustu kaisen #doctor gojo #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru x reader #jjk gojo

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ogviceversa · 28 days ago

Text

Waking Up As a Stranger

Joey:

“What the— where am I?”

The last thing I can remember was right before falling down a flight of stairs. This guy and I bumped into eachother and ended up tumbling down… and then I think I blacked out…

Actually the more I think about it— I remember the dream I had right afterwards.

I was floating outside of my body… it so surreal seeing myself… and I saw the guy as well. Our bodies were on the ground together. So I panicked and rushed into my body….

But wait—where am I at right now? I feel kinda funny.

I look around and then this nice looking guy comes running over.

“Baby you’re awake!,” he says to me.

“Baby?”

“Yeah honey, it’s me your husband Jacob!”

“Husband?”

That’s when a doctor comes in and says, “Dr. Hasan! You’re awake!”

Wtf? Who is this guy saying he’s my husband and why did that doctor just call me a doctor— that’s when I notice my hands.

They’re big thick masculine hands covered with black hair. I look down and see my chest…

I have dark chest hairy…this isn’t my chest…

I run my fingers down it, this feels so unreal. Maybe I am still asleep?

“Oh I’m sorry Jacob, Pete maybe experiencing some slight amnesia. Good thing is that should wear off soon.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry for just coming in like that. I was just o excited to see that he woke up so quickly.”

“It’s okay! Just give him a second.”

The doctor and Jacob walk closer to the door. I close my eyes and say to myself softly, “wake up…”

“So what about that kid he bumped into? Is he okay?,” I hear Jacob ask.

Kid? Oh shit! They’re talking about me!

“Yes he’s okay! Left with his family 30 minutes ago, what’s strange is that he also had slight amnesia. Kept saying he knew me…”

“Huh, that’s really weird.”

My body’s gone??? And this guy— Pete, is in my key? That’s when I sit up and immediately see a mirror of myself. Only to confirm what I already knew— I’m the guy who I fell down the stairs with…

Hold on… that means that wasn’t a dream earlier… I floated into the wrong body!!!

I get out of bed and both the Doctor and Jacob rush over to me.

“Pete, take it slow,” says the doc.

“I’m feeling fine now, I want to go home,” I say to him.

“Pete baby, come on and listen to him,” says Jacob.

I sit back down and the Doc runs a bunch of tests on me.

What was strange was that he asked me personal questions— and somehow I knew this guys birthday and his parents names…

“Well he seems to be good, just take it easy today.”

We leave the hospital and we get to Jacob’s BMW X7. Nice car I thought…

I wanted to go find my body so bad but I knew that would be hard to do right now.

As we’re driving, Jacob grabs my hand and holds it firmly. I found it kinda comforting even if he’s a strange to me.

I study his face, he’s handsome. The kind of guy I’d hope to marry when I’m this age.

“You scared me today,” he said to me.

“Sorry,” I say back.

“It’s okay, I’m just happy you’re okay.”

We pull up to a giant beach front property. My eyes get huge… is this there house???

Don’t get me wrong my parents are well off but this kind of property in southern Florida is insane! So I guess this body is super rich!

We head inside and Jacob gets me to sit down on the couch.

I kick off my shoes and stair down at the big manly feet that now belong to me. I wiggle my toes and smirk at them.

I feel a slight amount of excitement rush through me. These feet are so hot and I control them…

I run my new hands around my thighs… shit… I wonder…

I open up my pants and I gasp! Surrounded by a lovely trimmed dark bush was thick cock sitting at around 6 inches in length soft.

Man, now that I want to try out! I close my pants as I hear Jacob come back up.

“So we are off for the week, obviously your work knows that after I talked to your boss.”

My work— I’m an orthopedic surgeon. I specialize in trauma and that guy earlier is one of my best buds… Wait! This guys memories are starting to come to me.

Lifts up my feet and sits down placing them on his lap.

He starts rubbing my feet and it feels so good. I watch him and notice something… I’m turned on right now.

Jacob lifts one foot up and kisses my toes. I bite my lip watching him…

I look down at his bare feet… fuck he has some sexy toes too. Actually a lot about him is sexy… his feet, legs, face, beard, the warmth in his smile, his dick…

Memories of being in bed with him rush through my mind…. Fuckkk… he’s so good in bed. Atleast that’s how Pete remembers…

Tbh in my actual body I’ve only dated one guy and I don’t even know if that even qualifies. It’s tough being a 19 year old scrawny guy who’s so unsure about the world. The only time I’ve ever hooked up with someone was from a sketchy one night Grindr hookup.

Kinda freaked me out…

But Jacob is sooo different from anything he’s kissing my feet and telling me how or Pete… idk that he’s so happy he gets to kiss them and how much he loves me.

“I love you too baby,” I say back to him.

I take my other foot and rub it on his crotch. He grins and says, “oh so you are feeling better.”

“Yeah I think so,” I say biting my lip.

He rubs his hands up my think hairy legs… I feel his hand reach into my pants and he grabs my dick.

“You’re so hard right now,” he says grasping it and gently jerking me.

“Well yeah I have a hot husband,” I say back.

He climbs over to me and pulls me in. We start making out.

I run my hands all over him and he pulls back.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

We both head to the bedroom kissing and taking off a piece of clothing every step.

I look over both of our naked bodies… his cock… my cock…

I’m a handsome Doctor with an incredible handsome husband. Maybe I don’t need to worry about finding my body today… or tomorrow…

We crash into the bed and now Jacob is all I’m thinking about…

He climbs on top of me and pulls lube out of the drawer.

He rubs it on my cock and his hole.

He leans down and says softly, “finger me baby.”

I gently insert two fingers into him and he lets out a moan. I finger his hole for a minute before he says, “I’m ready.”

Jacob grabs my cock and works it in. It’s so warm inside of him. Jacob does so much of the work, he’s literally riding my dick. I have my hand on his jerking him off.

Both of us are moaning, loudly!

We keep kissing and repeating I love you to one another. And right now , I do feel like I love him.

More flashback come back… oh god, Pete was having an affair with Jacob… why would he do that???

It’s been months since we’ve… that’s when all of there relationship rushed through my head…

A tear goes down my face and I say, “I love you so much Jacob!”

“I love you too Pete!”

Both of us moan loudly as we cum in unison. My pours so much cum into him while his dick gets all over my chest, hand, and face.

Both of us are panting and I taste his cum.

Jacob climbs off of me and curls into me. I wrap my arms around him and say, “I’m sorry.”

He looks a little confused.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t done that sooner with you. You’re my everything Jacob.”

He pulls me in closer.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too. Maybe we can make up for that this week.”

“Well you wanna go to the beach or the pool?,” I say with a grin.

“I don’t care but let’s order out tonight.”

“Deal,” I say giving him a kiss.

Both of us go out of bed and head to the shower. We bathe together washing off our cum covered selves.

It’s so hot getting to rub soap on his cute hairy butt.

We dry off and grab a speedo out of my drawer.

I take a photo of myself really just admiring my new body. Gosh, I hope Pete doesn’t want his body back…

I walk outside and Jacob’s already laying out.

“Did you already jump in?,” I ask him.

“Yeah, couldn’t help it!”

Man, I can’t wait to fuck him again tonight!

Meanwhile…

Pete:

I was initially freaked out waking up in this body! But something about being 19 years old again is so sexy!

And I can actually just be single, not have to worry about work, or anything stressful.

Hell, with my knowledge and this youth— I’ll be an unstoppable doctor this round. And I’ll actually have time to party this round!

I pull off my shorts and touch the perky cute cock between my new legs. Ohhhh it’s so sensitive!

I pull off one of my socks and bring up the soft foot up to my face. I take a deep breath into my sole.

“Fuckkkk…”

I gingerly toy with my dick and pull out my phone. I redownload Grindr and set the location for the closest college university.

I wanna fuck a frat guy tonight!

As I gently tease my new dick, all I can think about is that I sure that Joey likes my body— because I want to keep his!

#body swap #male body swap #male tf #accident #permanent tf

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moonwatchuniverse · 2 years ago

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ZODIAC in aviation & spaceflight NASA Doctor William Douglas and Zodiac Seawolf On April 1, 1959, Dr. William K. Douglas, a USAF LtColonel, was selected to be the personal physician (flight surgeon) for America’s first astronauts, the “Mercury 7”, and remained so for the entire Mercury program. In 1984, Dr William Douglas was instrumental in establishing the Mercury Seven Foundation, later renamed the Astronaut Scholarship Foundation. Dr Douglas passed away in November 1998, but he had traveled to Kennedy Space Center, Florida to watch his old friend John Glenn return to space during STS-95 "Discovery" on October 29. Interesting 1961 photo showing Dr William "Bill” Douglas (1922-1998) wearing his Zodiac SeaWolf automatic wrist watch with characteristic bezel & crown. (Photo: NASA)

#Aviator #Astronaut #NASA #USAF #flight surgeon #flight Doctor #ZODIAC #Zodiac watches #Seawolf #military #montres #MoonwatchUniverse #Mercury #Gemini #Apollo #spaceflight #Zulu time

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brookghaib-blog · 22 days ago

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It's Quiet Between the Stars

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader

Summary: After surviving a lifetime of pain, addiction, and betrayal, Y/N begins the long road to healing with Bob—her anchor in the dark. Hidden away in the Watchtower, love grows between two broken souls as they learn that peace isn’t found—it’s built, moment by fragile moment.

Warning: Depression, torture, human experiment

Word count: 5,8k

Note: Based on this request!

The Watchtower was unusually quiet, humming low with the sound of the city beneath them and the occasional mechanical click of overhead vents. The team had returned only hours earlier from the mission in Berlin. A supposed underground facility—yet another sadistic attempt to manufacture super soldiers. Only, this one had gone even more wrong than usual. The scientist behind it all had experimented on unwilling civilians, turning them into grotesque hybrids—barely alive, veins blackened, bodies grotesquely enlarged, minds shattered into fragments of who they once were.

They hadn’t spoken much on the flight back. There wasn’t much to say when the smell of rotting flesh still lingered in your nose and your fists ached from mercy killings.

Now, night had blanketed the Watchtower, the skyline outside a sea of blinking lights. In the common room, Alexei flopped onto the couch with a dramatic grunt, groaning like he had been shot.

“I swear, if one more mission smells like a funeral home and makes me punch corpses, I am retiring. Again.”

“Didn’t you already retire four times?” Ava muttered, legs tucked under her on the far corner of the couch, sipping tea that didn’t quite mask the haunted look in her eyes.

“Five. But this one? This is the real one. Official. I will announce it. There will be cake,” he added with a crooked grin, though the shadows under his eyes gave him away.

Walker rolled his eyes as he tossed a can of beer onto the table—non-alcoholic, courtesy of the Watchtower’s very strict policy since Bob moved in. “You’re all talk, Red. Besides, who the hell retires before beating their kill count record? You’re still like... fifteen behind me.”

“You count your kills?” Ava asked flatly.

He smirked. “Only the impressive ones.”

“You’re disgusting,” she muttered, turning her gaze back to the TV she wasn’t watching.

Across the room, Bob listened from the intercom embedded into the wall—a low, grainy speaker buzz he had half-disassembled and reassembled himself just to feel useful. He didn’t go on missions anymore. Not often, at least. Not unless it was desperate. Too much power. Too much risk. Too much Void.

But he listened. Always. Especially when Y/N was out with them.

He sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, hair tousled, hoodie sleeves stretched from restless fingers. He leaned closer to the speaker when Alexei made an offhand joke about one of the hybrids biting at his armor like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

And then Bob’s voice came through, soft, static-washed.

“Where’s Y/N?”

The room quieted a beat too long.

Walker glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway. “She locked herself in her room since we got back. Didn’t say a word.”

Bob’s chest tightened. That cold, dull ache he hated. He hadn't seen her in four days. Her voice hadn’t come through the line even once during the mission. Not after the breach. Not after the clean-up.

Alexei shifted, quieter now. “She... she looked shaken. One of the hybrids was—small. A kid. Maybe thirteen. She was the one who had to finish it.”

Walker looked visibly uncomfortable at the memory, his jaw tightening.

Ava added, “She said she was fine. But... she hasn’t come out. Not even to shower. We tried knocking.”

Bob didn’t answer. The silence on his end said more than anything he could.

Alexei, trying to lighten the room again, muttered, “Maybe she’s binge watching Grey’s Anatomy. That always ruins my mood too.”

Walker groaned. “Please, no more trauma surgeons who cheat on each other and cry. It’s worse than our missions.”

Even Ava cracked a faint smile.

But the joke hung heavy in the air. Because they all knew what it looked like when someone said “I’m fine” too many times in a row. They had all heard that sentence before a collapse. Before a relapse. Before a loss.

And Bob knew, with bone-deep certainty, that something had gone quiet in Y/N. Something inside her had curled up and stopped speaking. And he wasn’t sure how to reach it from the other side of the Watchtower walls.

The room was dark, save for the pale sliver of moonlight creeping in between the gaps in the blackout curtains. The air was heavy with stillness, stale and unmoving, like even time itself was holding its breath. Y/N hadn’t changed out of her combat uniform. The dried blood—some hers, some not—had cracked and flaked across her chest and sleeves, crusting the fabric like a memory she couldn’t wash off.

She lay curled on the edge of the bed, knees to her chest, her forehead pressed into the pillow, damp with sweat and soaked in tears. Her body trembled with each wave of emotion that hit her, like a storm on repeat. She wasn’t sure when she started crying. Or when she had stopped breathing normally. Everything felt tight. Her throat. Her chest. Her skin. As if she was locked in, as if her own body was punishing her for being weak.

The child’s face haunted her.

Not a monster. Not like the others. He had human eyes. Confused. Hurt. Terrified. He hadn’t even screamed when she did it. Just blinked—slow, resigned. And she had to. She had to.

Right?

Her fingers clawed into the mattress as a new sob tore out of her. Her lungs burned from hours of shallow breathing, from muffled crying into her arms, her pillow, her palms. Her face was raw. Her eyes were swollen. Her throat was hoarse. But the crying wouldn’t stop. It couldn’t stop. It was the only thing keeping her from ripping her skin open just to let something out. Just to feel anything that wasn’t shame.

A soft knock rattled the silence.

She froze. She didn’t move. Didn’t dare breathe. Her body tensed like a child afraid of being found.

“Y/N?”

His voice.

Bob.

He was on the other side of the door. She hadn’t seen him when they landed. She’d walked past everyone. Didn’t look anyone in the eye. Especially not him.

“Y/N… please.”

Her lip quivered. Her body didn’t move.

“I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me. Can you—can you just say something?”

No. She couldn’t. Her tongue felt like it was buried in ash. Her mouth dry. Her throat locked.

Bob’s voice cracked a little. “I was listening. To the team. They said what happened. About… about the kid.”

Her hands gripped the blanket until her knuckles burned.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Don’t say that. Don’t lie to me, she wanted to scream. But her voice had died somewhere back in that lab, alongside everything else.

“You did what you had to. That’s what they do, these monsters—these scientists. They put blood on our hands and call it duty.”

Her lip trembled harder now. More tears slid silently down her cheeks.

“But I know that doesn’t matter right now,” he said, voice softer, sadder. “Because when it’s night… and you close your eyes… all you see is their face.”

She gasped softly. A hiccup of grief, of recognition.

“I know what that’s like,” he continued, closer to the door now. She could almost feel his shadow through the wood. “I know how it feels when the guilt eats everything. When you think, ‘If I had just been faster. If I’d aimed different. If I hadn’t hesitated.’”

Her chest caved in with another silent sob. Her nails dug into her own skin now.

“I used to think dying would be easier than living with it,” Bob admitted, and that silence that followed was louder than anything else he said.

She closed her eyes. Tears streamed sideways onto the pillow.

“But I didn’t die,” he said. “I stayed. And I found you.”

More silence.

“I’m still here, Y/N. I’m right here. Just open the door. Please.”

Her hand twitched. It twitched toward the edge of the bed, where the floor and the door were just a few short steps away. But her body wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t listen. She didn’t deserve to open that door. Not now. Not looking like this. Not being like this.

She pressed her face deeper into the bed, trying to smother the sounds of her breaking. Shame had rotted her from the inside. How could she face him? He’d see her and know immediately. Know how much she wanted to disappear.

A moment passed.

And another.

Finally, Bob’s voice fell into a whisper. Like he was leaning against the door now, forehead resting on the cold steel.

“I’ll be here,” he said quietly. “Whenever you can. However long it takes.”

And then she heard it—the slow retreat of his steps. The ache in the air deepened as his presence faded.

Berlin, 2005

The room was white. Sterile. So bright it hurt to open her eyes—but she had to. If she didn’t, they’d do it again. They always did.

Little Y/N was no older than six. Her tiny frame barely filled the metal slab they strapped her to, and yet they treated her like a monster. Like something dangerous. Like something they had to fear.

She screamed. Again. And again.

“Please!” Her voice cracked, tiny lungs heaving as her wrists pulled violently at the restraints. “Please, stop! It hurts!”

But no one stopped.

No one ever stopped.

The needles were thick. Burning. Electric. Sometimes they poked beneath her fingernails. Sometimes her spine. The shock collar around her neck pulsed every time her heartbeat spiked. A mechanical voice from the corner of the room would note her stress levels, her pain threshold, and the surge of neural activity as they injected another serum into her bloodstream.

Experiment 041: Day 136.

Her scream echoed off the walls.

She called for her mom. She always did.

“Mama! Mama—please! Mama!”

But her mother never came. Not anymore.

Instead, her father did.

Clipped heels. Cold eyes. A tablet in his hand. He stood above her, jaw tight, eyes unreadable, watching like she was just another number on a screen. Another line on a chart.

“Dad?” she whimpered, chest heaving. “Please… stop them. It hurts—Daddy, it hurts…”

He didn’t flinch.

He just turned to the scientist beside him and said coldly, “Increase the dosage. Let’s see what triggers the next response.”

Her world exploded in white-hot agony.

There were no toys. No sunlight. No birthdays. The other children, the ones she heard from behind distant doors, all stopped screaming eventually. They stopped crying. One by one, their voices went silent. She never saw them again.

Maybe they got better.

Or maybe they died.

She stopped asking.

Time passed. She wasn’t sure how long. It could’ve been months. Years. The drugs twisted her sense of reality, made her forget her own face. All she knew was pain. That, and the humming sound of the machines that never stopped recording her.

Then… one day, something snapped.

Her head throbbed like it might split open. Her vision blurred. Her pulse roared in her ears—and then it happened.

The straps shattered. The slab split down the middle. The machines blew apart with a deafening clang as an invisible force surged from her chest and tore the room in half.

The walls caved in.

The men screamed.

She could see them—but also couldn’t. It was like she had arms that weren’t hers. Arms that reached where she couldn’t. Arms that crushed steel, that slammed bodies into glass. That killed.

Blood hit the floor. Then the ceiling.

She curled into the corner, hands over her ears, sobbing.

“I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—I didn’t—!”

But they were all dead.

Everyone.

Except him.

Her father stood untouched. His coat torn, blood on his cheek, but alive. He looked at her—not with fear. Not even rage. Just… satisfaction.

“It worked,” he muttered, stepping over corpses. “It finally worked.”

That was the first time she saw red.

She lunged. The invisible arms moved faster than thought, wrapping around his throat.

But he only smiled. “You’re perfect, Y/N. I made you perfect.”

And then she saw it—her mother’s necklace. Hanging from his pocket. Stained with blood.

“No…” Her lip trembled. “No—what did you—what did you do to her?”

Silence.

“What did you do to Mama?!”

A slow, cruel smile twisted across his lips.

“She got in the way.”

And just like that, she understood: she was never his daughter.

She was his creation.

Years later, people would ask her how she got her powers. She’d never answer.

They’d ask why she looked so empty behind her eyes.

Why she flinched when a needle came too close.

Why she hated white walls.

She never told them about the humming machines. The cold table. The fact that the first time she felt love, it came from a dead woman’s memory—and the first time she felt power, it came from death.

They’d never understand.

Because pain wasn’t just a memory.

It was the reason she existed.

And sometimes, when the Watchtower fell silent at night, and no one was around to hear, she’d sit alone in the dark… and whisper her mother’s name like a prayer she knew would never be answered.

She hadn’t told a soul.

Not Valentina. Not Bucky. Not even Bob.

Y/N had known about the mission weeks before they deployed. She read the briefings in silence, her hands trembling as soon as the file landed in her lap. The name of the lead scientist—Dr. Elias Grey—was burned into the top corner like a scar across paper.

Her father.

The monster who made her.

She thought he’d died years ago. After she’d escaped his lab, after the massacre caused by her uncontrollable powers, after she vanished off the grid and forced herself to forget, she assumed that was the end. That his work had crumbled without her. That his madness had been buried along with the blood on his hands.

But he hadn’t stopped.

He’d just waited. Built in the shadows. And now he was back. And she had to kill him.

But no one knew that.

To the team, it was just another mission: infiltrate, extract intelligence, eliminate the source. A nameless scientist who had built monsters in cages and called it "progress."

But for Y/N, it was hell coming full circle.

She didn’t speak much on the ride there. She sat in silence, fingers buried in the sleeves of her jacket, jaw clenched so tightly she could taste blood. Yelena had tried to sit near her, brush his knee against hers for comfort, but she hadn’t even looked at him.

If she did, she might break.

She couldn’t let them see the little girl underneath all the layers of steel she’d built. The girl who still flinched when someone mentioned the word “father.” The girl who still heard the humming of fluorescent lights and the clink of surgical tools when she tried to sleep. The girl who cried silently into her pillow when Bob wasn’t around.

The mission was a blur.

A nightmare on loop.

The halls of the facility looked exactly like the old lab—white, sterile, humming with that same artificial coldness. The same padded floors. The same flicker of a dying fluorescent light down the corridor.

She could still smell the burnt metal, the blood.

Every test subject they passed made her chest seize. Limbs missing. Skin rotting. Bones warped and protruding through flesh. They weren’t people anymore. Just husks of failed experiments—just like she almost was.

And then she saw one of them crying.

“Help… me…” A voice barely above a whisper. She turned. A boy. No older than fourteen. Eyes cloudy with pain, his body bound to a medical rig with tubes down his throat.

She froze.

Bob shouted something ahead, but she didn’t move.

Then she saw him.

Through the glass of a secured operating room—her father.

Older. Greyer. But still the same eyes. The same cold, calculating look she’d seen hovering over her in the lab as a child.

He was alive. He was real. And he was still doing it.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her chest caved inward. Her powers flickered at her back like a warning signal, the invisible arms twitching in her panic. The walls felt closer. The lights felt louder. The boy kept whispering, “Please, help me—” and her vision blurred.

She had to get out. She had to get out.

“I’m hit,” she said flatly into her comm.

She didn’t wait for a reply. She pressed her hand to her ribs, smeared some blood from a fallen soldier onto her shirt, and staggered back toward the exit.

Bucky tried to stop her—radioed in confusion—but she cut the line before she heard his voice.

She locked herself in her room the moment they returned to the Watchtower.

Bob wasn’t allowed to see her like this. No one was.

Her body curled beneath the sheets like a corpse, sweat soaking through the fabric, her skin pale and cold as her mind spiraled into the past. Her eyes were bloodshot, hollow. She hadn’t cried like this in years—but now the sobs wouldn’t stop.

She had lied to them.

She had let them walk into her nightmare without warning. And worse—she’d abandoned them.

Bucky was the one who had to kill her father. Not her. She couldn’t do it.

She pretended to be injured—like a coward.

She let Bob believe she was strong.

But she wasn’t.

The next day bled into grey silence.

No footsteps.

No sound of a shower running.

No sign of life behind her bedroom door.

Y/N hadn't moved. Not once.

Her team tried not to overthink it—at first. Everyone dealt with mission aftermath in their own way. Walker assumed she was just being dramatic. Bucky figured she needed space. Yelena lingered in the hallway a few times, hesitating with her hand raised to knock before deciding against it. None of them had seen her since their return. Not a glimpse.

But Bob… Bob was unraveling by the hour.

He’d left dinner outside her door the night before—still warm, still hopeful. Her favorite: white rice, grilled vegetables, a little piece of chocolate on the tray because she liked something sweet before bed. He checked the hallway two hours later.

Untouched.

He didn’t say anything. Just quietly picked up the tray and brought it back to the kitchen.

That morning, he tried again. Toast. Eggs. Fresh fruit and tea.

She didn’t take that either.

He waited all morning by the door, hoping for the tiniest sound—a breath, a sob, anything. When he found the breakfast still sitting where he left it, the tea cold and untouched, something inside him snapped.

She wasn’t okay.

This wasn’t just recovery exhaustion or a need for solitude. Something had happened. Something inside that lab had shattered her so deeply she couldn’t even pretend anymore. And the thought of her curled on the floor, silent and suffering, made Bob feel like his entire chest was caving in.

By the afternoon, he stopped caring about boundaries.

He sat down on the floor outside her door, legs crossed, hands shaking in his lap. His voice was hoarse from lack of sleep.

"Y/N… please. Just say something. Anything."

Silence.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door.

“You don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to do anything. I just need to know you’re okay.”

He knocked again, gentler this time, like the door might bruise.

“You’re scaring me.”

No answer.

He ran a hand through his messy blond hair, fingers curling in frustration. A familiar tightness was building behind his eyes, one he hadn’t felt in a long time. He knew what this was. He remembered it all too well. That hopeless, silent spiral—the one you didn’t want anyone to see because you were too ashamed to admit you’d fallen again.

“You don’t do this,” he muttered softly, more to himself than her. “You always answer. You always—fuck, Y/N, you always open the door.”

The hallway was empty. Just the faint buzz of lights overhead. The rest of the team gave him space—gave her space. But the stillness was starting to feel like a coffin.

He pressed his palm flat against the door. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you. I should’ve gone. I should’ve seen it. Whatever happened in that place, whatever it did to you… you don’t have to carry it alone.”

His voice cracked, eyes glassy.

“You carried me through hell when I couldn’t stand. You held me when I couldn’t even look at myself. Don’t do this alone, please…”

He leaned forward until his forehead was resting against the wood, breathing ragged.

“I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not when I finally got you back.”

Still nothing.

He sat there for hours. Talking. Pleading. Whispering apologies. Promising to stay as long as it took. At one point, he heard something inside the room—a soft, choked breath, maybe. A sob. Or maybe just the air creaking through the vents. It was impossible to tell.

By the time night fell, Bob was still outside the door, curled up like a dog in the hallway, eyes bloodshot, throat raw from begging.

The tray of untouched breakfast sat beside him.

Cold.

Unwanted.

Just like every part of him felt.

Y/N's pov

The ceiling above her never changed.

White. Cracked in one corner. A water stain blooming faintly like a bruise.

That’s where her eyes had stayed for the past thirty hours. Her body ached from the stiffness—shoulders locked, jaw clenched, legs curled beneath her like she was still hiding under some table in a war zone. Her back stuck to the floor from sweat-soaked clothes, her mouth dry from dehydration, but none of it hurt as much as the weight pressing down on her chest.

She hadn’t slept. Couldn’t eat. Breathing alone felt like a punishment.

Her hands shook against the floorboards.

She’d buried it. For years, she thought it was gone. That memory. That face. His face.

But when she saw him—when her eyes locked with the ghost of the man who stole her life, the monster who created her and murdered her mother—everything inside her had cracked open like a shattered rib cage. The lab. The screaming. The invisible limbs that tore through people she never meant to hurt. The look on her father’s face when he smiled at the carnage he’d caused.

It had never left her.

And now she’d left people behind. Innocent people. Because she couldn’t move. Because she was terrified.

She didn’t even know how she made it back to the Watchtower. Her legs moved on their own. She went straight to her room, bolted the door, and collapsed on the floor. The same place she still lay. Trapped in her own silence.

And Bob…

She heard every word.

She heard the plate shift when he set it down outside her door the night before. Heard the tea cup clink. Heard him sit down, his back against the other side of the wall she was hiding behind.

He was crying now.

She could hear it in his voice.

“Y/N… please. Just say something. Anything.”

Her lip trembled, teeth sinking in to keep the sob at bay. Her fingers dug into the floor.

“You don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to do anything. I just need to know you’re okay.”

But she wasn’t.

She wasn’t okay.

She hadn’t been okay since she was a child and her father strapped her to a gurney and injected her with agony. She hadn’t been okay when she escaped his lab covered in blood that wasn’t hers. She hadn’t been okay the night she realized the only person who loved her was buried in a shallow grave her father dug himself.

She wasn’t okay the night Bob left her.

And even now, even with him back—sitting outside her door, begging—she still didn’t know how to let anyone in.

He knocked again. Softer. As if the sound might crack her.

“You’re scaring me.”

She curled tighter into herself. Nails digging into her own palms.

“You always answer. You always—fuck, Y/N, you always open the door.”

She bit down a cry. Hard. Choked on it. Her ribs ached from holding it in.

“I should’ve gone. I should’ve seen it. Whatever happened in that place… you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Her whole body trembled.

He was right there. Inches away. Just outside the wood.

Her heart screamed to reach for him. But the shame clawed louder.

If she opened the door, he’d see what was left of her. The wreckage. The filth. The child still buried inside her who never stopped screaming for a mother who never came.

Her powers had started acting up again. She felt the invisible limbs stretching under her skin like phantom pain—trembling, thrashing, begging to be let out. She hadn’t lost control in years, but now she was slipping. She was afraid she’d hurt someone again. Hurt him.

“You held me when I couldn’t even look at myself,” Bob whispered. “Don’t do this alone, please…”

Her hand moved. Slowly. Against all instinct, against every fear, she reached for the doorknob.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered. “Not like this. Not when I finally got you back.”

She heard it then—his breathing. Shaky. Wet. Like he was trying not to sob but failing.

And she couldn’t do it anymore.

She couldn’t stay silent.

With trembling fingers, she turned the knob.

The door creaked open just a sliver.

And there he was.

Bob Reynolds.

The man she loved. The man who loved her even when she didn’t know how to be loved.

He was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up, face in his hands, hair a tangled mess. His eyes were rimmed red, his chest still rising and falling like he couldn’t breathe right.

When he heard the door click, his head jerked up.

He looked at her like he was seeing a ghost. Like maybe he’d imagined it.

Y/N stood in the doorway like a broken statue.

She hadn’t showered. Her skin was pale. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She looked hollowed out—like something had been carved from her soul and never returned.

And still, Bob reached for her.

“Come here,” he whispered, voice cracking.

She collapsed.

Into his arms, into his lap, into his chest—sobbing, shaking, screaming without sound. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his hoodie like she was afraid he’d vanish. Bob didn’t say anything. He just held her, arms wrapped tight around her like he was trying to keep her from falling apart completely.

She buried her face in his neck, her voice barely a whisper.

“I saw him.”

Bob froze. But he didn’t let go.

“My father. He was there.”

Her breath hitched with every word.

“He… he’s the reason I’m like this. He killed her. My mom. He made me into this.”

Bob didn’t speak. Didn’t try to fix it. He just cradled her like something precious.

“I thought I could kill him. I wanted to. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even move. I pretended to be hurt so I wouldn’t have to… I let people die, Bob.”

“No,” he whispered fiercely. “You didn’t let anyone die. He did. He did all of it. Look at me okay? Don’t take your eyes off of me. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

She sobbed harder, her body going limp in his arms.

“I’m so tired,” she choked.

“I know,” he said. “I know. But I’ve got you now.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice steady even through the tears.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

They didn’t speak much that night. He ran a bath and helped her into it, gently washing her hair like she was made of smoke and might disappear if he touched too hard. She didn’t say a word, just closed her eyes and let the water soak into her bones, like it could wash out the memory of the blood on her hands, the sterile stink of the lab, the ghost of her father's voice.

Afterward, wrapped in one of his oversized shirts, she lay on the couch while Bob sat beside her on the floor, his back against the sofa, their silence stretching soft and long.

“I didn’t know,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what that place was to you.”

Her fingers twitched against the blanket. “You weren’t supposed to.”

“But you went anyway,” he murmured. “You walked into the fire knowing it might kill you.”

She didn’t respond.

Over the next few days, Bob took it upon himself to keep her anchored. He rearranged everything in the Watchtower to fit her needs: blackout curtains for the bad mornings, herbal teas to help when the tremors came, soft instrumental music when silence was too loud, white noise machines when it wasn’t loud enough.

He didn’t press her to talk—not at first. He just stayed, made sure she ate, sat with her during the nights when her body jolted from nightmares. He never asked what they were about. He didn’t have to. The look in her eyes afterward was enough.

Eventually, on a rainy Tuesday, she started talking.

“He killed my mother,” she whispered. “Because she tried to stop it. Stop him. He was the only one who called me by my full name before the sessions. Everyone else just used numbers. He didn’t even flinch when I cried.”

Bob didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His silence was a container where her grief could safely land.

“He wanted me to be a weapon,” she continued, eyes red. “And when I finally escaped, I thought he’d stop. I thought he’d take the hint. That killing his wife would be enough.”

She laughed bitterly through her tears, and it twisted something inside Bob.

“I walked into that lab and thought maybe—just maybe—he’d changed. That time broke him like it did me. But he didn’t. He kept going. Using people. Twisting them.”

Her breath shuddered in her chest.

“I should’ve killed him myself.”

“No,” Bob said gently. He looked up at her from where he knelt beside her chair. “You should’ve never been the one to carry any of this. Not as a kid. Not now.”

“But I did,” she said hollowly. “And I still do.”

She expected him to give her a solution. Some vague superhero platitude about strength, redemption, purpose. But he didn’t. Bob just nodded and placed his hand gently on her wrist.

“So let’s carry it together.”

She finally broke then, falling into him, fists gripping his shirt, sobbing as if she were trying to rid herself of every memory at once. And Bob just held her—his strength silent, steady, sacred.

Every night after, they carved a routine from the wreckage. She’d sit on the bed while he read to her—sometimes books, sometimes old scientific journals she didn’t even understand but liked the cadence of his voice. Sometimes, he’d share pieces of his own darkness—his addiction, the voices, the way the Void still tugged at the edges of his sanity like a cruel shadow.

“I’m not whole either,” he told her one night. “But with you… I’m not alone.”

It became their pact. They wouldn’t be alone again.

Not with nightmares. Not with grief. Not with the ghosts of their past.

Together, they started to learn how to breathe again.

It was late—well past midnight—when she crept into the bedroom, barefoot and quiet. Bob was sitting on the edge of the bed in a plain t-shirt and sweats, his long fingers tangled together, his eyes fixed on the floor.

He looked up the moment he felt her presence.

She didn't say anything, just crossed the room slowly and sat beside him, their shoulders barely touching. The silence between them had changed these past few weeks—it wasn’t heavy anymore. It was a warm, living thing. A shared space where words didn’t always need to live.

“I had a good dream,” she whispered suddenly.

Bob blinked, surprised. “Yeah?”

She nodded, a soft smile playing at her lips. “We were at a little house… somewhere green. You were trying to cook, but you kept setting off the fire alarm. I think you were making pancakes.”

“I do make terrible pancakes,” he murmured, and she laughed—quiet, small, but real.

She turned to him. “There was no Watchtower. No missions. No past. Just you and me. And it didn’t hurt.”

His hand found hers instinctively, fingers threading together. “Maybe we can have that someday. The quiet.”

“We don’t deserve quiet,” she said. “Not with everything we’ve done. Everything we carry.”

Bob looked at her for a long moment. “No one deserves peace, Y/N. We just decide whether or not to let ourselves have it.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You deserve to stop running. Even just for tonight.”

She stared at him—his eyes, warm and unwavering, his voice a tether pulling her back from the places her mind still wanted to drown in. She didn’t know when it started, but her heart had begun beating faster. Not from fear this time. From something so much more terrifying: trust.

“I don’t want to be broken anymore,” she said.

“You’re not.”

“I feel like glass.”

“Then I’ll hold you carefully.”

He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t. Their lips met, soft and searching, the kind of kiss that doesn’t demand but asks. And she let herself answer. She let herself feel wanted. Safe. Loved.

His hands rested lightly on her waist, not pressing, not taking. She moved closer, curling into his chest, letting his warmth bleed into her bones. It wasn’t about lust. It was about belonging. About showing one another, without words, that they were still human. Still capable of gentleness. Of giving and receiving softness in a world that had taken so much.

“I love you,” she breathed against his neck, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. “Even if I still hate myself sometimes.”

“I love you more on the days you can’t,” he whispered back. “I’ll love you through it.”

She kissed him again—this time with a little more certainty. Her hands ran over the lines of his back, tracing the parts of him that held her together. They undressed slowly, like peeling away armor, like surrendering their pain. When he held her, skin to skin, heart to heart, she didn’t feel like glass anymore. She felt real.

They didn’t speak much that night. But in the stillness, in every kiss, every breath, every whispered promise against her skin, something inside her began to mend.

And for the first time in years, she let it. All this time, what she needed was someone as broken as her.