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strangerexee · 5 months ago

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Chapter Twenty Eight: A Mission Gone Too Far

Pairing: Assassin!Toji Fushiguro x Assassin!Reader

Warnings: violence, blood, gunplay, near-death experience, injury (bullet grazing the head), Toji being pissed, heavy tension, arguments, and power struggles.

Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Testing, testing—"

The smooth voice rang through the earpiece, crystal clear against the static of the comms. You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

"—If you can hear me, say ‘Gojo is a sexy genius.’"

"Gojo, I swear to God," you muttered, checking the magazine of your gun before slotting it back into place.

"Just say ‘copy,’" Toji’s voice cut in, irritated.

“Copy,” you responded, adjusting your gear.

You could hear Gojo’s smirk over the line. "Buzzkills. Both of you."

You and Toji stood on the rooftop of an old industrial building, eyes scanning the lot below. A shipment was coming in, an underground deal that Gojo had oh-so-graciously assigned you to oversee. A simple recon mission, he’d said. In and out. No unnecessary bloodshed.

Bullshit.

You knew a test when you saw one. You’d been thrown into enough trials-by-fire to recognize when someone wanted to see what you were really made of.

And judging by the way Toji stood beside you, arms crossed, jaw locked—he knew it too.

"Keep your eyes open, lovebirds," Gojo drawled in your ear. "We’ve got movement. Two cars, black SUVs, just pulled up."

You spotted them immediately. Four men stepped out, all dressed in dark suits, their movements crisp, purposeful. Professionals. Armed.

"How much you wanna bet they’ve got more inside?" you murmured.

Toji scoffed. “That’s not even a bet. Of course they do.”

"Then let’s keep this simple. We don’t fire unless we have to."

"Agreed."

You both moved swiftly, descending from the rooftop, taking up positions along the shadows. Watching. Waiting.

Then, right when the deal was about to finalize—

All hell broke loose.

Gunfire erupted, shattering the tense quiet. You didn’t know who shot first, but it didn’t matter—suddenly, the entire place was a war zone.

"Ohhh, now it’s getting interesting," Gojo hummed through the comms.

"Not the time," you snapped, ducking behind a crate as bullets tore through the air.

Toji moved like a damn ghost, cutting through the chaos with brutal efficiency. A blade in one hand, a gun in the other, dropping anyone in his path.

You weren’t far behind, weaving through the mess, gun aimed, shots precise. You weren’t here for an all-out fight, but if someone got in your way? You weren’t hesitating.

At least, not until you saw him.

The sniper.

Perched up high, barely visible through the dim lighting.

And his barrel was aimed directly at Toji.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up.

A sharp bang. The world blurred—pain exploded along the side of your head, a searing, white-hot sting.

The shot missed. Barely.

But you felt it.

A graze, just above your temple, hot blood trickling down the side of your face.

You heard Toji’s voice, sharp, frantic—

“What the fuck?!”

The sniper wasn’t getting a second chance.

You lifted your gun and fired. A single shot, straight to the skull. The body dropped.

The gunfire around you faded into a dull roar, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Your vision swayed for a second—

Then Toji was in front of you, grabbing your face, tilting your head to assess the damage. His hands were rough, firm, his jaw clenched so tightly you swore it might snap.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

You blinked, still catching up.

"Toji—"

"You moved in front of a sniper.” His voice was deadly quiet, barely restrained. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You scowled, slapping his hands away. "I saved your ass."

"You almost got your head fucking blown off."

"But I didn't."

“That’s not the fucking point—”

"Ah, young love," Gojo’s voice interrupted. "So much passion. So much drama. But, uh—maybe wrap up the lovers’ quarrel after you clear the damn warehouse?"

Toji’s glare could’ve burned a hole through the comms.

But you could barely focus on that. The pain in your head was setting in now, throbbing. Your vision was still a little off-kilter, the blood dripping down your face warm and sticky.

You exhaled sharply, shaking off the dizziness. "Let’s just finish this."

Toji muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue. He turned on his heel, jaw tight, gun raised.

And despite the anger simmering between you—he still positioned himself in front of you. A shield. Just in case.

Because no matter how pissed he was—no matter how much he wanted to strangle you for what you just pulled—he wasn’t about to let anyone else touch you.

Not now. Not ever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The last few minutes of the mission were a blur of gunfire, adrenaline, and your throbbing head wound.

Toji was furious, but he didn’t let it slow him down. If anything, he was moving faster—his bullets landing with brutal precision, his blade slicing through flesh like it was nothing. If he was pissed before, he was outright murderous now.

You kept up, but the world swayed every few seconds, the warm trickle of blood trailing down your temple reminding you that you weren’t at your best. Still, you weren’t about to sit this out.

Gojo’s voice rang in your ear, cool and entertained. "Well, that was fun. Seems like you two made quite the impression."

"Shut the fuck up," Toji snapped.

Gojo only laughed. "Relax, lover boy. Mission’s over. You’re clear."

You took a slow breath, surveying the bodies littered around the warehouse. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and iron, the tension still clinging to your skin.

Your hand lifted to your temple, fingers coming away slick with blood.

Toji was already stalking toward you, his movements rigid, controlled. The second he reached you, he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your wound. His expression was unreadable, but his grip was tight.

“We’re leaving,” he said, voice sharp.

“I’m fine.”

His jaw clenched. "You're bleeding."

"It’s just a graze."

His hand tightened around your wrist. “You think I give a fuck?”

You stared at him, breath still uneven. His eyes were dark, burning, and his grip on you was almost bruising. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, barely contained beneath the surface.

You didn’t say anything else. There was no point.

Without another word, he yanked you toward the exit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The car ride home was silent.

Tense. Suffocating.

Toji’s grip on the wheel was too tight, his knuckles white. His jaw was still clenched, his whole body wound tight with frustration. You could practically feel the rage rolling off of him in waves.

You sat beside him, arms crossed, eyes trained on the window.

Your head still throbbed. The blood had dried, crusting uncomfortably along your temple.

Finally, you exhaled. "Are you gonna stay mad forever, or—?"

The tires screeched as he slammed on the brakes, jerking the car to a stop on the side of the road.

Your pulse jumped.

Slowly, you turned to him, only to find him already staring at you—his expression dark, livid.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice was low, lethal.

You scowled. “I was thinking about saving your life.”

“I don’t need you to save me.”

Your temper flared. “I made a choice. I took a risk. That’s what we do.”

"Not like that." His voice was sharp, his breathing uneven. "Not when it means almost getting your fucking head blown off."

“Jesus, Toji—”

“You hesitated before. And now you’re fucking reckless?”

Your fingers curled into fists. “I handled it.”

"You almost died." His hands slammed against the steering wheel, frustration spilling over. “And for what? You think I’d be grateful? You think I’d be proud that you nearly got your skull split open?”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling. His voice was raw, his anger barely leashed.

But beneath it—beneath all the frustration, all the sharp edges of his words—you saw it.

The fear.

He had seen you go down. He had seen the blood. And for a split second—he had thought you were dead.

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Toji exhaled sharply, shaking his head. His hands dragged down his face, his fingers raking through his hair.

Then, softer this time—hoarse, almost—

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Your throat felt tight.

“…Okay.”

Neither of you moved. The car was still. The world outside was quiet.

Then Toji clicked his tongue, shaking his head again. “Fucking stupid.”

You snorted. "You're one to talk."

He huffed, but there was no real bite behind it anymore.

Finally, he shifted the car back into gear, pulling back onto the road. His hand found your thigh, gripping it tightly—possessive, grounding.

You let him.

You stayed silent for the rest of the ride.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When you got home, Toji barely let you step through the door before he was dragging you to the bathroom.

“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the closed toilet lid.

You rolled your eyes, but you obeyed, watching as he rummaged through the cabinet for the first aid kit.

“I told you, it’s just a graze—”

“Shut up.”

You huffed. “Bossy.”

He shot you a look before kneeling in front of you, tilting your chin up to examine the wound. His fingers were rough but careful, his gaze focused.

You sighed, letting him work. His grip was firm as he wiped away the dried blood, cleaning the wound with surprising gentleness.

“…You should’ve let me take the shot,” he muttered after a moment.

You looked down at him, watching the way his brows were furrowed, his lips pressed together.

“But I didn’t.”

Toji’s jaw ticked. His fingers pressed against your chin, his thumb stroking over your jaw absentmindedly.

You swallowed.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. The air was thick, heavy with everything left unsaid.

Then, finally, he exhaled.

“I fucking hate you,” he muttered.

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

His eyes flickered up to you. A beat of silence.

Then—softer, quieter—

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”

Your chest tightened.

Toji let out a slow breath before standing up, tossing the used alcohol wipe into the trash.

“Come on,” he murmured. “You need sleep.”

You didn’t argue.

Because despite the throbbing in your skull, despite the ache in your body—

For the first time since the mission started, you actually felt safe.

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