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b14augrana · 3 months ago

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Scrubber: Off-season

You go on vacation with all your teammates and the location is somewhere familiar to them

Barça Femení x teen!reader

Part of the Scrubber universe

pt. 2 masterlist

Warnings: none! just a long, cute fic 👼

A/N: scrubber content is back 💝 just a little filler / mini scrubber series while the next part to the actual series gets written slowly but surely. i’ll most likely write a part 2 if people want x

fridolinarolfo

→ Does anyone have vacation plans??!

ingrid_engen

→ no not yet 🫤

fridolinarolfo

→ Hellooooo where is everyone else

ingrid_engen

→ get active plz @/aitanabonmati @claudiaapina @/yourname @/alexiaputellas

Replied to fridolinarolfo

Does anyone have vacation plans??!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ anyways why did you ask about plans for the holiday? do you have any?

yourname

→ i dont have plans frido. omg do you wanna hang out??? 😋

patri8guijarro

→ I’m not doing anything

fridolinarolfo

Replied to yourname

i dont have plans frido. omg do you wanna h…

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ I have an idea 🙂‍↕️ How about we all go on vacation together? We can all decide on a place

❤️ 8

ona.batlle

→ That sounds fun 😍 Nobody be boring and say no!!!!

yourname

→ ona’s right it does sound fun i wanna do it plz 🐒

alexiaputellas

→ Where will we go

ingrid_engen

→ hmm any ideas guys? 🥴

claudiaapina

→ Ibiza so we can party 🔥🔥

alexiaputellas

→ No not with bebita around

👎 1

yourname

→ guys my friend said we should go to new zealand. i think she is biased bc she is from there but it looks like a nice place 😄

fridolinarolfo

→ I really liked New Zealand actually

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ I wish we stayed longer 🫠

ingrid_engen

Replied to fridolinarolfo

I really liked New Zealand actually

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ same!! it was such a nice place and the people were really sweet

❤️ 6

patri8guijarro

→ We should go to New Zealand on vacation 🤩

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ Me María and Clau didn’t go with you guys for the world cup so its our first time

yourname

Replied to patri8guijarro

Me María and Clau didn’t go with you guys f…

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ i haven’t gone there either PLZZZZZ can we go guys pleaseeeeee 🙏🙏🤞

alexiaputellas

→ I liked it there so if everyone else wants to then yes I think we should go 🙌🏼

❤️ 9 🔥 4 🎉 2

patri8guijarro

→ Barça on tour already??? 🤣

❤️ 7 😂 5

“I’m so excited for our break!” you exclaimed, skipping over to Alexia. The team was warming down in the gym after a training session, and you had all spent the entire day talking about your plans to go on vacation in New Zealand.

“I’m excited too. It’ll be nice to actually enjoy New Zealand, because we didn’t get much time during the World Cup,” Alexia said, walking at a steady pace on the treadmill. You leaned on the handle, nodding at her words, “I can’t wait. It looks so awesome, and my friend said it is awesome.”

“Who’s your friend?” the woman asked, looking at you with a small smile as you responded. “I met her in the park a few weeks ago — her name’s Ludo. She told me that she was born in Italy but lives in New Zealand, and apparently she’s studying here, in Barcelona. How cool is that?”

Alexia raised her eyebrows, a surprised expression on her face, “Really cool, and she’s right, New Zealand is awesome. I liked Auckland a lot. There’s a tall skyscraper in the city that lights up at night. Se ve precioso.”

“Hey, maybe next time we can go to Australia for vacation. Laia must have some friends at Arsenal that can give us some advice on where to go,” she added. Australia was another place you thought was beautiful. The beaches looked so… beach-y. They looked like the type of beaches you imagine when you hear the word ‘beach’, but Barcelona beaches weren’t too far off either in your humble beach-lover opinion.

"Are you two talking about the holidays?" It was Ingrid asking now, and she emerged from the other side of Alexia. You nodded, a smile on your face. "Yeah. I can't wait, it's literally all I've been thinking about, I'm so excited! I want to go to the beach and the city– Patri! Clau!" you yelled, beckoning to the women across the room, "We should go bungee jumping!"

Patri's face lit up. "I'll do anything that gives Ale a heart attack," she jeered, nudging Alexia gently as she stepped off the treadmill and wiped her forehead with a towel. "Cállate, tonto," Alexia laughed.

“I’m excited to try their coffee. I hope they’ve got a good coffee culture,” Ingrid said, earning a hum of agreement from Fridolina, another café enthusiast.

There were so many things to do, you couldn't keep up. When you and Irene got home, you immediately dashed to your room and flopped onto your bed with your notebook and laptop open, searching up and scribbling down a list of activities for you guys to do during your time in New Zealand. It ranged from bowling at an arcade to dining in a restaurant situated at the top of a skyscraper, so the options were endless.

Honestly, you were just happy to be going on holiday with your teammates. The destination didn’t matter.

Mateo stumbled into your room with his stuffed moose, Bombón, and climbed onto your bed, sitting politely beside you with his moose in his lap.

“Teo, me and Mami are going on holiday, so you and Bombón will be with Madre for a little bit,” you explained, earning a little nod from Mateo who pointed at your laptop screen.

“Es aquí donde vas?” he questioned, motioning to the photos on the website you had open. “Sí. Bonita, verdad?” Mateo smiled and replied with a little ‘Sí.’

“Nenita,” Irene yelled from the living room. You peered out of your bedroom as she spoke, “Can you text Fridolina and ask her how we’re booking the flight tickets?”

You nodded and retreated into your bedroom again, picking up your phone and opening iMessage.

yourname

→ @/fridolinarolfo how are we booking the tickets frido??

fridolinarolfo

→ 😅😅

patri8guijarro

→ Let’s take the Barça plane 🤣🤣

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ It’s there for a reason lol

claudiaapina

→ Barça plane or I’m not going 💯

fridolinarolfo

→ 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ I’ll ask Jona then

“Irene, Frido’s gonna ask Jona if we can take the big plane!” you said. She didn’t respond for a minute, but then she appeared at your bedroom door. “The Barça plane? The one with our faces on the side?”

You nodded once more, and Irene let out a laugh as she shook her head. “Claudia’s idea, or Patri’s?” she asked. “Patri’s, but Claudia did say that she’s not going if we don’t take that plane,” you giggled, showing her the texts on your phone. Two tiny hands grabbed ahold of you as Mateo braced on your arm and took a peek at your phone screen.

The next day, Alexia picked you up to take you to training while Irene dropped Mateo off at preschool. It was one of the last training days before the season ended, so there were some bittersweet feelings surrounding the next few days.

"I love being at work and I'm a bit sad because this season has been so good, a holiday only means it's finished,” Aitana said while you two sat down and used the foam rollers beneath your legs, “But pequeñita, the last time I went to New Zealand, all I wanted to do was win the World Cup, so I didn't do anything around the city because we weren't there for a holiday. Now that we have won it, I want to do as much as we can!”

Fridolina burst through the doors of the gym with a big smile on her face, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. “I just asked Jona about taking the Barça plane and…”

Everyone looked at her eagerly, waiting for the verdict.

“It’s a yes... but we have to pay for our own tickets since it isn’t for work.”

Claudia was the first to jump up and celebrate, followed by Patri and then everyone else. The tickets part didn’t matter, because you all got to sit together anyways.

“We’re going to New Zealand!”

After your training session, you all sat in a circle to do some stretches. The stretches part happened for maybe a minute, before you pulled a folded piece of paper out of your pocket and laid it out flat on the grass in front of you all. "I wrote down a bunch of things we can do in New Zealand. There's something for everyone, so don't worry about missing out on any cafés, Ingrid," you jeered.

Patri grabbed the paper and scanned it, a smile quickly appearing on her face. She passed it down to Claudia, and the paper made its way around the circle before ending up in the middle again.

"I want to have dinner at the skyscraper restaurant," Alexia said, her eyes lighting up as she spoke about it. A few people hummed in agreement, including you.

Claudia scoffed and shook her head, "The first thing we're doing is going to the theme park. Look forward to dinner at dinnertime!"

"You look forward to dinner at breakfast time."

"Okay, shut up Mapi."

"What about the trampoline park? You guys are totally ignoring the trampoline park!" Patri exclaimed, flailing her hands in the air. Alexia laughed and leaned back on her arms, "Yeah, because a group of grown women are allowed to be in a trampoline park with little kids. We'll crush them!"

"Not if we rent the whole place out," Patri winked, making Alexia raise her eyebrow. "Imagine that! A trampoline park, all to ourselves."

Alexia shook her head, laughing once more, "That wouldn't be too bad. At least you three could be clowns and not hurt anyone's kid," she remarked, motioning to you, Patri, and Pina, all of which made faces at her.

"It would be way cooler to hire the theme park for the night. No lines, unlimited turns, and we wouldn't need to wait forever for food," Claudia responded.

"We should go to the beach!" Ingrid chimed, pointing at the sheet of paper. That was something everyone could agree on; a nice day at the beach, soaking up the sun. There was nothing quite like the Barcelona sun, but you could at least see if the New Zealand sun came close to comparing.

“(Y/N), come on!” Alexia yelled from the living room, rolling her suitcase along the floor. You groaned, currently in the middle of trying to zip your own luggage up. “I’m almost done!”

You sat on top of your suitcase, desperately trying to push it down, and eventually, you finally managed. With a sigh of relief, you quickly zipped it up with one hand while the other kept pushing it. Alexia appeared at your door, sticking her head through the gap, “Have you got it, Chiquita?” You nodded, heaving the suitcase off your bed and onto the floor with a thud as you smiled proudly. “All done!”

"I logged into Hay Day for you, because I knew you'd be busy and forget," Alexia added, a smile of her own now gracing her features as yours simply widened. "Graciés, Ale!" you exclaimed, wheeling your suitcase forward. You stopped at the door as Alexia pulled you into a hug and placed a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Are we forgetting anything?" she asked, walking with you to the living room, and you thought about it for a moment before shaking your head with an unsure expression, "I don't think so..."

“Wait!”

You ran back into your room quickly, skidding around the corner. Alexia could hear you rummaging around for something and mumbling, ‘Where is it’ and, ‘Mierda’ before you emerged from the room empty handed. She looked down at your feet and laughed when she saw the navy blue house slippers on your feet, paired with the Barça socks you were already wearing.

“Don’t laugh, you don’t understand how nice they are,” you grumbled, brushing her off as she laughed even harder.

The pair of you walked out of Alexia’s apartment with your suitcases in hand, and you took the elevator down to the car park. There was a brief silence in the elevator for a moment, but the urge got the best of you and you began making faces at Alexia in the mirror.

You returned to a normal expression when she suddenly looked at you with her eyebrow raised, and you glanced back at her like she was crazy for being suspicious of you. Once she turned back around, you continued making stupid faces in the mirror while she wasn't looking.

The antics didn't stop when she eventually caught you; instead, Alexia joined in, poking her tongue out at you in the mirror until you both were going back and forth making silly faces at each other for the rest of the elevator ride. Soon, the empty car park was filled with the sound of laughter as the pair of you exited the elevator, stumbling over your own two feet from laughing too hard while you walked to her car.

She unlocked the car and you both hauled your suitcases into the trunk with a grunt. "Dios mío, it wasn't this heavy before..." Alexia mumbled, pulling the trunk lid down before strolling to the driver's side.

You nodded in agreement, letting out a slightly exasperated sigh as you sunk into the passenger seat.

"I can't wait until I can drive," you remarked, buckling your seatbelt. "When that happens, you owe me about... 1,000 car rides," Alexia teased, buckling her own seatbelt as she glanced at you with a small smile. You rolled your eyes, seemingly annoyed at her words, but the smile on your own face told other tales.

You wound down the window a bit, filling the car with fresh air as you emerged out of the car park and traversed the streets of Barcelona. "Are we picking anyone else up?" you inquired, and she shook her head.

"We were going to pick up Irene, but Lucia said she'd drop her off at the airport," Alexia responded, and you acknowledged her words with a little 'oh'.

"Want anything to eat, Chiquita?" Alexia asked, glancing at you for a sliver of a second. You contemplated her question carefully, hesitating every time you thought you had an answer, until eventually you came up with a nod of your head. "I'm craving an almond croissant, you know the ones?"

The blonde nodded her head, knowing exactly what you meant. It only took a few turns before Alexia pulled over in front of your favourite pastry bakery. "Vale, I'll be 2 minutes," she notified, opening her car door and shutting it behind her as she headed for the entrance of the bakery.

Shortly after, she returned with a brown paper bag in hand and a smile on her face. Opening the car door once again and sitting down in her seat, she handed you the bag. Immediately, the sweet aroma of a fresh-out-the-oven, icing sugar-dusted, almond-garnished croissant graced your nostrils. "Graciés, hermana," you thanked her, a smile akin to hers on your face.

"Want a bite?" you asked, offering the warm pastry to her as she merged back onto the main road. She took a little nibble, mumbling a thanks in between her bite. As soon as she straightened herself up, you brought your croissant back to your mouth and took a massive bite, savouring every moment spent with icing sugar on your face. ‘It adds to the experience,’ you thought.

The last bites were consumed at an agonisingly slow pace. You wanted to savour the almond-y goodness, but you also wanted to wolf it down and quit stalling — you were conflicted. Would New Zealand have such nice almond croissants? Probably not, but you’d never know unless you tried!

The prospect of more almond croissants in New Zealand got you through the last few bites without having to mourn the pastry, and before you knew it, the airport was coming into sight.

Travelling wasn’t a new concept for you; in fact, you had lived abroad in France before. You couldn’t say why, but you did for two years (give or take a few months), and some would call it a miracle that Lyon didn’t pick you up before Barcelona did.

You hated living in France anyways. It was pastry heaven, of course, but it was not Vidić lover heaven. They were all about Zidane and Henry, not a single word about Vidić. It was understandable, but still, not cool.

Also, the amount of pigeons freaked you out.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out, already knowing who it was. Alexia’s buzzed too, but as she rummaged around for it, you had already opened the message, so she just looked at your screen.

claudiaapina

→ Where are you all

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ Deja de ser perezosa hermanas 🙄

patri8guijarro

→ Don’t listen to her we just got here because someone @/claudiaapina wanted to stop and pet someone’s dog 🖕🏻🖕🏻

claudiaapina

Replied to patri8guijarro

Don’t listen to her we just got here because s…

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ Cállate cerdita

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 💩 1

fridolinarolfo

→ I’m here with Aitana we’re just getting a bite

yourname

→ me and ale just got here 😆

lucybronze

→ I’m with Ona in the lounge 🥴

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ I saw Marta dragging Caro to the duty free though 🤣🤣

graham95

→ Be quiet Lucy I saw you kicking a vending machine earlier 😒

ingrid_engen

→ im here with maría now

yourname

→ i see irene 🥳🥳🥳🥳

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↳ bye guys me and ale will see you inside 🥸

You switched your phone off, shoving it back into your pocket as Alexia spoke with a smile. “This is going to be a fun trip.”

You nodded, your face contorting into a smile of your own as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “Let’s grab our stuff and go to Irene,” you said eagerly, jumping out of the car and rushing to the trunk, pushing up the lid so you could lift your suitcase out slowly.

You wheeled it around the side of Alexia’s car before abandoning it and breaking into a sprint towards Irene, but you were actually heading for Mateo who was toddling along behind her. You swooped him into your arms, and Irene bore an affectionate smile as she watched you carry him.

“Pequeño, I’m gonna miss you!” you said, placing the toddler back down. He latched onto your leg, hugging it tightly, and you ruffled his hair. “I’ll bring you back a friend for Bombón, I promise,” you added, giving Mateo one last hug before picking him up once more and handing him to Lucia. Irene gave the two one last hug goodbye, and then put an arm around your shoulder while her other one held the handle of her suitcase.

Alexia wheeled your luggage back over to you, and held her own in her other hand. “Ready to go?” she asked you and Irene, who both nodded.

“Let’s go!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

#b14augrana's asks #scrubber #woso #woso community #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso fanfics #fc barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #fcb femení #fcb femení x reader #fcbfemeni #fcb femeni #fc barcelona x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #irene paredes x reader

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curtins · 19 days ago

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DITTO — Gojo Satoru a rewrite of this post.

prologue. → brave, lucky, courageous. these are the words that people bestow upon you when the dust has cleared, and the king of curses is no more. you disagree, for if you were lucky, gojo satoru would still be standing at your side. instead you've been left to stare at the ocean shoreline on your own, without your best friend (the love of your life) by your side.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. unfulfilled/unresolved love. angst, hurt, comfort, fluff. your usual shenanigans. sfw! implied, minor satosugu (mb because geto is my beautiful sad princess and i love him so he has to be a part of everything). pining, idiots in love. grief, and what you do after you've lost what you treasure the most etc u get it. reader is from an unnamed clan, has a younger brother. reader also wears skirts, dresses sometimes, character death + injury

word count. 11k! 😭 song inspiration. ditto — newjeans / 뉴진스 (2022) a/n. i wrote rough headcanons and posted them yesterday but i woke up thinking dang i should actually write something better about that lmao. update: i thought i'd finish this in a few hours, why did this take me like 2 days? update #2: dawg this is long as fuck...this kinda depressed me to write CROSSPOSTED ON AO3 <3 💙

mp3. do you think about me now, yeah. all the time...

✉️ — 1995. 💬 — gojo.

these meeting rooms were hushed, grand, and the kind of place that simply swallowed up any sound and echo; where the wood-panelled walls were lined with the tapestries and polished symbols of his clan.

and in the hush, gojo had sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, trying to listen to the conversation of the adults, with their low and steady voices that droned on. this was so boring. they were always speaking of things that he just couldn't understand, but his parents said these meetings were important, and so he was dragged along - much to his eternal chagrin. still, he shifted in place, glancing around at the detailed screens painting around the corners of the room, in varying shades of blue.

across the room, there was another kid. one who sat beside her father, fidgeting just as he was. and gojo could tell by the way that you kept glancing towards the door that you, too, longed to escape. your gaze caught his, and there was that flicker of mutual boredom that sparked between you two. you had scrunched up her nose, as if to say 'this is so boring, isn't it?'

gojo grinned, stifling a giggle. he had leaned back, just a little, surveying the adults who paid no heed to him, before letting himself inch across the rough texture of the mat towards the door.

"do you want to see the garden?" he mouthed silently, his words exaggerated and slow, so you would understand.

your eyes had lit up, and you nodded, just as your father (well, he assumed it was her father) leaned down to whisper something in your ear, his voice a low rumble that was far too quiet for gojo to catch. you were nodding obediently, but your eyes were now fixed with the glimmer of excitement, and he quickly held the door open for you as you scrambled out the door, following him quietly as they creaked down the long hallway.

and soon, they reached the back of the estate, where the garden stretched out like a hidden oasis, filled with the flowering bushes, the winding stone paths, and the pond that glistened in the morning light. suddenly, he stopped by the edge of the pond, brushing pale hair out of his stinging eyes, "i'm satoru, by the way."

you had sat down quickly, as though the long walk had winded her (gojo had barely needed to stop to catch is breath), and your robes dipped into the pond, letting the water seep up slowly, "i've heard of you. my parents say you're an only child."

gojo shrugged, trying to think of something important he could tell you, "it's not so bad. one day, i'm going to be the head of my clan," puffing up his chest a little.

you had nodded, "i would like to be too, but my younger brother would get it. because...you know."

gojo didn't quite know but he nodded like he understood, and he tried to think of something smarter to say, "well the job isn't that fun anyway. it's just sitting around reading papers, and telling people what to do."

you had pouted, frowning, "i want to tell people what to do all day. and i would get the nicest robes too as clan head."

and you had looked so unhappy at the prospect that you were being robbed of a stellar wardrobe that gojo made up his mind, right then and there, "tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?"

your face had lit up, holding your little pinky up to his, "promise?"

gojo linked his finger with hers, sealing this silly vow and laughing, "why not?"

✉️ — 1996. 💬 — you.

when you're seven years old, you’ve resigned yourself to trailing behind gojo, watching as your friend takes on the world with the same reckless, eager energy that he seems to pour into everything that he does.

his voice has picked up a confidence that you haven't felt yet, and there's a permanent, flashy grin on his face that says he doesn't care what anyone thinks about him, not his parents, nor his clan.

and today, gojo's decided that the old shrine on the edge of your family estate needs exploring. you're a little less certain, especially since your father had told you that this shrine was haunted, but you find yourself following the boy anyway, and there's that silent agreement in place: he leads, you follow. you're alright with that, that's just the way it's always been.

he's dressed, as usual, in a loose grey hoodie that's two sizes too big for him, and his jeans have a hole in the knee; some small rebellion against his clan's strict sense of tradition. even his hair is awfully emssy, tousled and getting a little too long, and you know he hates it when his mother tries to comb it down, and you easily suspect that gojo just ruffles it on purpose to get a reaction out of those around him. he probably does everything on purpose for a round of reactions, honestly.

you, on the other hand, have your nicest lilac skirt on, and there's a small bow in your hair that the maidservants had pinned themselves (your mother had been too deep in her cups all morning). but you had fluttered around, feeling quite pretty in your skirt; like you were a fairy that would sprout wings and live in the clouds.

gojo glances back at you, and rolls his eyes, "you know, you look like you're going to one of the clan meetings," he mutters, but there's a playful glint in his eye. he's pulled a twig from the ground, and he's waving it around like a sword, slicing through imaginary enemies as he marches forward like an idiot.

you just shrug, quietly watching him cut through the tall grass ahead, "i like looking nice," you mumble, a little embarrassed. you can feel the careful way the sweet, old servant (she turned seventy last week!) had arranged your hair, and the press of the bow keeping it every lock in place.

"well, if you ever decide to look like you're not on your way to sit for a court painting, let me know," gojo says, smirking (he thinks he's funny) as he waves his 'sword' around, battling on the false frontlines.

but despite yourself, you laugh, and quicken your pace to keep up with him, and so, gojo slows just a bit, enough that you're walking side by side now, and his arm brushes against yours.

"did you know that they say that this shrine is spooked?" he asks, his voice falling to a dramatic whisper.

"i live here, satoru. obviously, duh," and the shrine comes into view, and it's small, weathered with age, but to you, it looks grand and mysterious, even magical, "do you believe it's haunted?"

gojo shrugs, unfazed, "nah, probably just an old rock. but it would be cool if it was. maybe, we'll see a ghost."

now you've taken a hesitant step back, but gojo just grins, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward, and his hand is warm and steady in yours.

"c'mon, don't be a chicken," he teases, laughing as he drags you closer, and you plant your feet firmly in the ground, watching as clouds begin to roll over the sky, ominous and gloomy.

oh, this place is definitely haunted. your father was right, it's so over for you now. a massive, ugly curse is going to pop out and eat you alive, and steal your pretty hair bow. you mutter a small prayer under your breath. gojo satoru, you will pay for this.

✉️ — 2000. 💬 — you.

you'd always heard whispers about yourself from the other kids, how you were too quiet, or you tried far too hard to be perfect — unwilling to roughhouse the way they did. perhaps they were right, and it was true that you preferred to sit alone. you think it was the feeling of order you enjoyed, of a world you could control, even if it was just through lines on a piece of paper.

but today, their voices were louder than usual. a small group had gathered near the cherry blossom tree where you'd settle yourself, and they circled around like hungry wolves sniffing out something they could tear apart.

one girl wrinkled her nose and called you prissy (well, okay) and another boy had snickered and muttered that you were so boring, and it was a wonder that you even had a friend like gojo.

ouch.

their words felt like small, precise cuts, sharper than expected. you had heard these things before. after all, everyone had reached the age where they were aware of their abilities, their techniques as jujutsu sorcerers.

you didn't mind your own technique, making sure to channel time and energy to learn so you could grow up and be as good as your father one day (a well established sorcerer in his own right, if a bit out of shape).

but you didn't have to be very smart to know that gojo's abilities stood out entirely in a different way, and you heard your parents whisper in hushed tones at how lucky his clan was to have a child like that. with the right training and moulding, he could be the most powerful man to walk the earth.

how silly. gojo was all laughs, and smiles, and stupid jokes and bright, clever eyes. you thought it was dumb how they all spoke about an eleven year old boy like he was a weapon, kept in its sheath until it was ready to be drawn.

but of course, all the kids wanted to be friends with him instead. and today, these barbs hurt more — and you kept your eyes down, clutching your books a bit tighter, willing for these supposed 'friends' of yours to go away.

but before you could say anything, you heard his stomps.

"hey!"

gojo's voice was unmistakable, sharp and sudden as he clamoured over, all brashness and bravado. he had gotten a bad haircut recently (entirely his own fault for thinking he could put scissors to his own hair, but you had laughed so hard as he swore curses) so white tufts stuck out all over his head, making him look like he got stuck in a wall socket, even crazier than usual.

but gojo didn't look at you, just planted himself between you and the group, bruised fists clenched (they trained him too hard), and shoulders set, "what's your problem?"

the other kids stammered, clearly surprised, but that didn't stop him, he who looked like a small, lanky and angry polar bear.

"you think you're so funny? talking like that? say it again, and i'll knock your teeth out."

"ah, satoru -" you ran your tongue behind your teeth, the last thing everyone needed was another fight of bruised pride, and yanked hair, rolling around in the dust.

but one of the boys had muttered something under his breath, taking a half-step back. the others followed, shuffling, rolling their eyes and looking anywhere but at you and gojo.

and your best friend didn't move until they had scattered completely, leaving behind only the faint echos of their derision as they fled. and then he turned to you, his scowl fading into something kinder (good, you didn't like seeing him so upset) as he dropped onto the bench, beside you, pulling his knee up onto the bench so he could rest his chin against it casually.

"they're just idiots," he said, rolling his eyes, and his voice was softer, playful again, "don't listen to them."

you gave him a small smile, nodding, as the knot in chest loosened a little, "i wasn't really listening to them," you murmured, even though you probably knew that was a bold-faced lie.

gojo released a loud laugh, much too loud and forced, as he nudged you with his elbow, and he must have known it too, but he was smiling, "good, that's the spirit."

You managed a small smile, nodding, the knot in your chest loosening a little.

the world was quiet again as you both sat in silence, the soft breeze ruffling the grass and the cherry blossoms overhead. and then, with a shyer glance, you managed to look over at your friend, watching as messy tufts of his snowy hair moved ever so slightly in the breeze.

"thanks, 'toru," you said, quietly, but he just shrugged it off, brushing it away as though it was nothing.

"hey, what am i here for?"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — you.

gojo was sprawled across your wide bed, looking at you as if you were the most ridiculous person in the entire world. his own suitcase sat beside him, already paced with the very few things he needed, and now he watched you with that eager, restless gleam in his blue eyes, like he could barely sit still.

"you're so overthinking this," he said, bright voice full of impatience, "just throw some stuff in a bag, and we're good to go. it's just tokyo, not the end of the world."

you scowled at the boy, holding up two sweaters; one sensible in a shade of pale blue, and the other thick, deep red and woollen, "but what if it gets cold? or rains?"

gojo rolled his eyes, throwing his head back dramatically onto your pillow, hands behind his head as he sprawled around like a snooty prince with all the time in the world.

"it's summer, it's tokyo, and it's not like we're moving to america," he smiled, "besides, if you pack any slower, we'll miss our first year."

you tried to brush it off, and something about his easy confidence made you feel a sharp twinge of nerve. this was really happening, you were truly leaving the bounds of your family estates, stepping out into the world, to attend jujutsu tech, a school in tokyo that you had heard so much about. well, there was another school here, in kyoto, but god, it would just be nice to get out of these ancient walls.

and yet -

gojo simply looked like he couldn't wait to shake the dust of his home off his sneakers, you felt something pull at you, like a sudden-appearing string that tied you to your home city, and it wouldn't let you go.

your best friend had caught the look on your face, and softened — just a bit, as he twiddled with a brand new pair of sunglasses, and he sat up closer, watching you carefully, "you're really going to miss it here, aren't you?"

and you shrugged, fidgeting with the sleeves of the red sweater, "i don't know. maybe, i suppose. don't you feel that way at all, satoru?"

he shook his head, resolute, "not even a little," but he saw your uncertainty, "listen, you'll be fine. you'll love tokyo. and hey," he nudged you gently with his knee, "i'll be right there with you anyway."

you appreciated that his confidence felt like a promise, something that you could at least hold onto, even in the big capital, and with a big, exaggerated sigh you tossed both sweaters into the suitcase.

"finally!"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — gojo.

the both of you had arrived, bright-eyed and tired, as he clambered off the tall bus that had parked on the outskirts of tokyo, where jujutsu high was located.

gojo stood beside you, hands stuffed in his denim pockets, plastering a disinterested expression on his face. but he couldn't help how his eyes flittered to the sid,e underneath the dark shades of his glasses, watching you fawn over another new student, another boy who had arrived from some small town, who-knows-where, from a non-sorcerer family.

geto suguru.

well it was no lie that gojo liked him a lot too. there was no denying that he seemed polite, clever, maybe a bit shy. and effortlessly cool.

gojo had grown up in the stifling, grand estates of the big clans, constantly fussed over, and robed in fine silks printed with his clan motifs. all of those stuffy rules would sit, push around and make space in one's head, like a constant mantra from the elders.

he didn't need to look at you too closely to see what was going on, and he could tell right away, just from how you reacted. your smile stretched wider, and your eyes lit up like you were meeting someone who you really wanted to talk to.

geto who hadn't even changed into his uniform yet, with his stray strands of dark hair falling out of the knot on the back of his head, looking politely aloof, but cheerful, in worn black jeans and converse, and some baggy band t-shirt that would get gojo scolded by his mother for even wearing that inside the estate.

gojo noticed everything, especially the way your fingers slipped up to tuck your hair behind your ear when geto grinned at you (all because you’d recognised the band on his t-shirt, so what?) he saw how your eyes brightened, like geto suguru had unlocked some hidden code only you could decipher.

it annoyed him to realise that geto's calm, quiet charm was exactly the kind of thing you’d be drawn to. that’s what you liked, wasn’t it? the understated, thoughtful types who let the world come to them. not the loudmouth who cracked jokes at every opportunity, hoping to pull a laugh from his best friend.

well, fuck, he had to be a part of this too now.

✉️ — 2005. 💬 — both.

gojo's new obsession had a sleek, silver body and an olympus logo stamped on it in black, a camera that he'd been itching to buy; refusing to settle for anything less than the latest model. suddenly, he was determined to capture tokyo through his own eyes, and you and your friends had quickly become his reluctant muses on an impromptu day trip to the ameya-yokocho market.

"stop! stay right there, don't move! fuck, no! a little to the left!"

he waved his hands around, motioning for everyone to gather just as he wanted. you all exchanged amused glances, with shoko huffing around dramatically, as gojo crouched down on his long legs, then stood back up, and then crouched down again, as one of jujutsu high's most powerful sorcerers struggled to bring a camera into focus.

eventually, geto had laughed — raven hair falling over his beautiful face, and had gotten up to help gojo, fiddling with the lens as the rest of you milled around.

and then, suddenly gojo turned the camera directly on you. he pointed his finger your way, wide grin half-hidden but unmistakably earnest, 'c'mon, turn that frown upside down!'

he needn't have said a word, just seeing your best friend there, with his hair tousled and carefree grin, with the camera strap hanging off his neck, was enough to make you laugh, the kind that felt as bright as it sounded.

and so, you found yourself standing in the middle of the bustling market street, surrounded by friends and fellow students, and the lively hum of the weekend crowds, as you looked directly into the lens, with your smile softening under his gaze, as though the rest of the world had blurred into the background.

afterwards, gojo had taken a good look at the photo, and he didn't say much, but the look on his face lingered, almost like he was seeing something that he wasn't sure he was allowed to hold onto. you had shyly asked him later, coming up beside his shoulder, whether he had printed a spare copy of the photo, but he shook his head with the lie rolling off his tongue.

love was a selfish endeavour, to its core. he wasn’t about to tell you that he wanted to keep that photo for himself. and later, when no-one was looking, he slipped the small print into his wallet, right between his train pass and some spare change.

✉️ — 2006. 💬 — you.

your best friend, your dear satoru, had always been resilient; the kind of guy who threw himself at life with reckless energy, shrugging off injuries like they were just a part of the ride. he'd laugh off a scraped knee or a bloodied lip, flashing that cocky grin and a shrug as if pain was something for other people.

life for you went on, with your own routines and small moments. you learnt long ago that you didn't quite possess the natural, raw sheer jujutsu power that gojo had (or geto for that matter) but you could certainly hold your own in a scuffle. regardless, you had chosen to turn to academics, flitting between classes and study sessions, arm in arm with sweet shoko.

there was joy in sneaking off campus with friends, or scrolling through lists of new albums to download onto your mp3 player (you had been partial to the south korean boyband, tvxq!).

and so, life seemed both incredibly mundane and slightly electric, with days marked by shy smiles and inside jokes, with walks home on the streets wet from the spring rain.

but it had been late summer when gojo had returned from that last mission, when the days were still long and hot and the afternoons were bathed in a thick, heavy amber. and he had come back...different.

he moved carefully, as though each step was suspicious and took more effort than he'd let on, and his usual bright glimmer was dimmed, his laughter quiet, and his smiles withheld like a rare currency. he'd sit through the long evenings with you, in silence more often than not, hands stuffed into his wide pockets as he stared at a place that you just couldn't reach.

when you'd catch him alone in the courtyard after class, he'd be training hard, working through his cursed techniques with a relentless focus, perfecting each hand gesture as if he could shake off whatever shadow lingered behind him. and sometimes, he'd stay for hours after school, practicing beneath the dying and dusty light of the last days of summer, as if he could not afford to stop, to rest.

“gojo?” you called, hesitating as he finished a strike to some poor unsuspecting pile of soda cans, leaving them obliterated in the heat. “what's going on with you?”

he paused mid-motion, glancing at you, his face carefully blank. and you hated that, you hated how the flicker of distress would pass from his face before being schooled into that carefully constructed mask of 'the strongest.'

i love you, idiot. i love you, i love you, tell me what's bothering you and i will help, you're my best friend.

but these words never saw the light of day, always curling up and choking up in your throat, and instead being twisted into feigned, casual interest. losing the cloak of deep devotion that you held for a friend of ten years.

"oh - hey! nothing," gojo replied, too quickly, with that half-cocked smile that painted over his pink lips, "nothing that deep."

lately, this repeated lie had been hanging in the air between you, clear as the last streaks of summer sunlight that would soon give way to fall.

you crossed your arms over your uniform, dark fabric crinkling, "you're not fooling anyone, you know. geto told me about the mission, he said that you —," you swallowed, with the words just as heavy as the steadfast beat of your heart that you kept under lock and key, "he said you shouldn't have come back. what does that even mean?"

gojo's face flickered again, just for a second, before he barked out that irritating, false chuckle, "guess it's a good thing you weren't sent on tengen's fuckin' mission then," before reaching out and snatching your strawberry milk carton from your hands with a grin.

after a few punctuated slurps and lip-smacking (just to watch your face redden in fury, gojo would admit) he spoke again, voice strained, "you'd probably be crying about it still."

"hey!" you protested, grabbing for the carton again, prying his slender fingers off your sweet treat, "i don't cry that easily."

"could've fooled me. you cried during that american movie about zoo animals."

"madagascar was a sad movie about displacement and the loss of home! i know animal rights activists hate to see your ass coming to the zoo."

gojo snickered, drawing out the words, "fuck that zebra," but now, he was looking off into the golden haze of a beautiful sunset, with that frayed grin, "seriously, though. it's fine, it's all in the past."

over time, gojo never spoke many a word about what happened to the star plasma vessel, but he just seemed to move forward, like he always had. his resolve somehow sharper, tighter, and his laughter more intense when it finally did return. there were moments when you'd catch him staring into the great expanse of nothing, haunted (but beautiful), though he'd just shrug and smile when you prodded him about.

✉️ — 2007. 💬 — gojo.

gojo thought he was astoundingly self-aware, in his own humble opinion. he never let anything get to him, that was the trick, you see. to take life as it came at you, to carry that fire and stubbornness and throw it back in the face of the trouble.

and so he wanted to be angry, to be furious. why had suguru done this? why?

he had known that geto, one of his dearest friends (one who always been so sure of himself) had fallen into disquiet lately, and even gojo had prodded him on whether he had lost weight through sleepless nights. but suguru would have just turned his head back to his book, lost in thought, with his dark hair loose around his face.

had he been blind? how had suguru's silence been covered by what gojo (privately) considered his own loud, defiant return? no, he knew of ghosts. he knew that some spirits and spectres could not be shaken, and sometimes when gojo himself closed his eyes, he could feel the sharp sting of an assassin's blade ramming through his throat, leaving him for dead.

but to murder over a hundred innocent people...

you had found him alone that evening, where he had sprawled over the stairs as the sunset blazed, painting them aglow in dusky hues. but gojo could barely notice any of this beauty, and so he just stared, lost in his thoughts that wouldn't settle.

(are you the strongest because you're satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you're the strongest?)

he didn't hear you approach, until you placed a gentle hand on his shoulders, causing him to flinch, surprised out of his sorrowful reverie.

the warmth of your touch steadied him, and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and he wondered how you could always seem to know exactly when he needed you most.

but the thought twisted, sharp and bitter, for what if you would follow suguru the same way? had you not often looked at geto with light in your eyes? and you had never looked at him like that.

what if, someday, you left him the same way? what if you turned around and saw someone else worth following? he couldn't help his fists from clenching, tension rippling down his shoulders and painfully gripping his head.

"suguru..." his voice came out quieter than he meant, with a crack that he couldn't quite hide, and he heard you sharply inhale, "i can't believe he's gone. i don't know if...if i'll ever see him again. why would he -?"

you still didn't say anything, just tightening your hand on his shoulder. and satoru hated it. hated that he wanted to lean into the weight of your touch, hated that this is what being the strongest now entailed. that now he was plagued by fear, of losing you, of watching you slip through his fingers into another's orbit.

i'm only seventeen. what happened to my youth?

the thoughts are acidic, cynical and they leave him angry (with the world, with the higher ups, with himself, with his parents) and he can't help himself from blurting out the next question.

"did you like him?"

gojo tries to keep his tone light and casual, but he loathes how he sounds pleading, heavier. he feels the embarrassment of vulnerability shroud him as you meet his eyes, and he hates how your eyes are teary too.

you shouldn't cry. ever.

"like? as in like?"

"as in love," gojo mutters, "shoko said you did."

you sniff, and now your head is leaning on his shoulder and he can inhale the scent of your shampoo (apples? caramel?) and despite the crick in his neck, he lowers his shoulder further down so you are more comfortable.

"shoko talks too much sometimes," you laugh weakly, "but probably. i think i did."

gojo tries to tamper down the acrid lurch in his stomach, but you continue, "i think i did love him. but so did shoko. so did nanami, and haibara back when, -" you sigh, "and so did you. we all loved him. he was our friend."

his fingers had been hovering close to your hand for a while, almost as if he couldn't help himself, the pull. finally, he slid his smallest finger to let it curl around yours, drawing out a memory from over a decade ago.

"tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?" "promise?" "why not?"

how silly that the hardest things in life had once been a bored child, and his new friend who fretted about her future wardrobe.

and when you clasped in hand entirely in its return, gojo's breath caught, his throat tightening. the words that he wanted to say, to spill from his throat, hovered in his mind but there was no infinite word strong enough to bring them out.

he wasn't an idiot, he wasn't daft and unobservant, he knew exactly what he wanted to say to you, to tell you from his lips to yours. but the way his heart laid itself bare in that moment unsettled him deeply, not the yearning itself, but how fierce it was. it disgusted him, the rawness of his desire, exposed right there in the open, where anyone could see it, including you. especially you.

with a realisation that was long coming, beneath the golden wash of the setting sun, he sighed deeply. if he ever lost you, if you ever looked at him with the same betrayal that he'd seen in suguru's eyes, he didn't know if he could survive it. it would cut deeper than his infinity could bear.

he tried speaking again, "if you ever -" but he doesn't get the chance to speak before you're leaning further into him, a quiet sniffle punctuating the silence.

"i won't."

✉️ — the next decade... 💬 — you.

"sweetheart, honey, my precious pumpkin pie."

you shot gojo a death glare, his attempt at flamboyant charm bouncing right off you, "i hate you. never speak to me again."

and your gaze dropped to what was left of your beautiful hermès scarf, once a beautiful concoction of cream-white silk, now reduced to tatters that fluttered pitifully in your hands, stained with some suspicious green goop.

you had cherished this pricey product, but gojo, in his infinite wisdom had decided to pick it up as a perfect blindfold right before a gnarly mission. and so, it got tangled with a nasty curse, and met its tragic, shredded end.

gojo raised his brows, feigning the innocence of a cherub, blinking his long lashes, "i'm sorry, i'll get you a new one, baby."

he drew out the pet name with exaggerated gusto that made you snarl, "enough with the pet names. you are a grown ass man."

and you gave him a first shove in the ribs that made the strongest sorcerer in the world stagger dramatically, only to catch himself with that easy grin still plastered on his face.

but before you could storm off and mourn whatever was left of your one-million yen possession, gojo darted in front of you, blocking your path with his ridiculously long arms. "come on, let me make it up to you, what if i had died on that mission?" he pleaded, looking at you with mock sincerity.

"i wouldn't have even come to the funeral," you sniffed, sticking your nose in the air, ignoring the fake choking sounds that came from the man as he clutched his chest.

months had turned into years, where you and gojo had grown up and graduated jujutsu tech together, carrying triumphs (you won valedictorian, out of a grand total of eight students), losses (gojo was a notoriously bad driver and almost crashed the car that the two of you were in) and countless moments in between.

the two of you had returned to your alma mater as teachers, and mentors, guiding younger sorcerers who were much like you'd once been; eager, impatient, and a little rough around the edges.

gojo took to teaching like he did most things, with his own reckless charm and devil-may-care attitude. he'd joke about skipping staff meetings, but he'd be there anyway, leaning back in his chair with his legs sprawled underneath him, mouthing snarky comments that only you could hear.

you'd like to think you'd grown more confident, no longer the uncertain teenager who used to glance at herself twice in the mirror. time had given you the chance to learn your strengths, and exorcising curses had left you all the more enduring.

gojo had noticed, though he'd never say it outright. he'd make some teasing comment about the way you would boss around a room, and you'd roll your eyes as you nudged him telling him that you had learnt from the biggest ego in tokyo. but sometimes, he'd watch you a little longer than he should, with that flicker in his gaze that he thought you hadn't noticed.

some things hadn't changed at all, and he still came back to you after every mission, every right. you'd hear him shuffling in from down the hall, his paper bags of desserts swinging as he tried to balance it along with his jacket, and whatever ridiculous trinket he'd picked up for you that week (you kept every single one).

and there the two of you would be, sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, sharing sweets straight out of the boxes. he'd pass you a slice of cheesecake that he insisted that you simply must try, nudging your hand until your fingers enveloped his.

wouldn't it be a lie to claim that you didn't bask in the warmth of your best friend's gaze, even as he feigned interest in some story that he had overhead from the students on his way over from the school, with his low laughter filling the quiet around you.

sometimes, in the silence that would fall after the conversation ebbed, he’d reach over and trace circles absentmindedly on the back of your hand with his thumb, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. neither of you would move or speak. gojo would be looking anywhere but at you, yet his hand wouldn’t let go, tethering you to him in a way that made the apartment feel smaller — almost as if you’d already crossed some line neither of you dared to talk about.

what a pain to be haunted by someone who was already living and breathing right in front of you. sometimes, it left you nauseous, ill, and even screaming into your pillow after he left, and dialing shoko's number so she could give you an earful.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

your car idled at the curb, the sounds of the city filtering in through the barely open window, with the faint chill of the october night brushing against your skin.

gojo looked up from his phone, tapping his fingers on the screen, and there was a sober look on his face that made your stomach twist. you watched as he ran his head through his white hair, and sighed, his eyes still on the screen.

"apparently i was summoned by name," he said quietly, "to shibuya. whatever curtain's been set up is only allowing sorcerers through."

you kept one hand on the wheel, "ijichi reached out to me too, but he wants me covering the perimeter on the other side, away from the metro. but who would summon you by name?"

"i know. do you think it's...?"

"the traitor everyone's guessing about? who else?"

gojo scoffed a little, "fuckin' surprise," he muttered, casting you a glance that spoke volumes of protectiveness, one that made you lurch ever so slightly. his eyes met yours, an unspoken worry passing between you. you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from blurting out the words that lived in the forefront of your mind.

and so, gojo reached for the door handle, and you saw him hesitate as his fingers drummed against the door, before pulling his blindfold up, "well, stay safe, yeah?"

you swallowed, trying to find some false platitude to offer back, "hey, i will if you will."

he gave a short laugh that must have not fully reached his eyes, but it softened the rest of his beautiful face in that way that you loved, "y'know, we could have been going trick-or-treating. dressed like idiots, stuffing our face with candy."

"tweedledee and tweedledum?"

gojo snorted, "next year then."

you hummed, "i'll keep that idea then, tweedledumb."

the bow of his lips quirked, and he looked away again before pushing himself out of the car, stepping out onto the suddenly cold, quiet sidewalk (too quiet, where was everyone?)

he paused, turning back to you through the window, as he lifted his hand up in a small wave, and you could tell he wanted to say something else — but the moment passed, and he closed his mouth, smiling instead in that way of his that said everything without a single word. and he pushed his hands back into his pocket, strolling away as you sat there, suddenly ever so lonely in your silent car, as chills went down your spine.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

"gojo satoru has been sealed."

what the fuck?

the world has slowed down, every sound muffled as if you'd been submerged underwater. shibuya had left gojo sealed in the prison realm by...no. it couldn't be.

suguru geto was dead. dead, executed. had it not been almost a year? you had mourned, gojo had grieved. and yet, the impossible had clawed its way into reality, leaving you feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something dark and unknowable.

soon the shock twisted into dread, an icy grip that clenched tight around your chest, left the blood draining from your face. god, your hair must just turn as white as his from the stress alone. your best friend, the one who had been beside you in sickness and health.

it was cruel, you thought, to not even be allowed the time to fall apart, now now. there was little space for it in the chaos that had erupted the next day, when waves of curses crashed through the city like nothing you had ever seen. what fresh hell was this, you wondered as you nursed a nasty set of wounds, trailing after (tormented, sweet, far too young) itadori yuji, and his supposed older brother, some blood manipulation user that had done his fair share of damage throughout the night.

the culling games.

the brutality of it shocked you, and several times during the upcoming days, you had to blink back hot tears as sorcerers were summoned, drafted, and thrown into what was quickly a gladiator spectacle, some devilry concocted from geto's, no, kenjaku's mind. and the stakes were not just your own survival, but the students you had mentored — the young souls who had grown under your watch, and needed you now more than ever.

it quickly cost you an eye. a clash with a fierce, blood-thirsty wayward sorcerer had left you bloody and bruised with a clean gash that ran through your right eye, and you had screamed, taken a life even. only the baritone, dulcet tone of the yuji's half-curse brother (choso? a member of the kamo clan? since when did half-curses even exist?) had pulled you away from launching the contents of your stomach over the pavement, as you stared at the crimson dripping off your hands. were you supposed to be grateful that you had survived this, when so many others had not? yuji's tears had kept you awake in the night, his sobs when he thought that no-one could hear him.

gojo's absence had become a wound, raw, with a side of constant ache that you could feel with every waking heartbeat. and so you tried to fight hard with his voice echoing in your ears, remembering the half-smile he'd flash when you'd land a difficult hit, or the grateful look in his eyes knowing that his students were safe.

days blurred together, and nights bled into ceaseless combat, of the terror of being on the run, and still gojo was with you. the thought of finding him, the thought of him being unsealed from the prison realm almost had you blurting false, desparate promises to the sky that you would tell him exactly what you felt for him, bare your heart out in its entirety for him to hold in his hands.

like it had always been.

✉️ — november, 2018 💬 — you.

it was surreal seeing him again, unsealed and standing there against the burnt umber of the sky, rough around the edges but undeniably gojo. nineteen days of living with the ache of his absence, of waking every morning with a hollow flower blooming in your chest, he was here — alive, breathing, real.

but god, it had been so beautiful to meet his blue gaze once more, and that fleeting smile cross his face before he rushed to pull you into his arms, closing the distance and pulling you into his arms with a new strength that almost lifted you off your feet. and if you closed your eye, you could pretend that nothing had happened, nothing at all. that it was just you pressed against the warm, beating heart in gojo's chest, unrestrained and fierce as thick arms pulled you close, filling your senses with smoke, and earth, and long-spilt blood.

"don't you look eye catching?"

you huffed and leaned away from him, slamming your fist on hard muscle in exasperation, but if you hadn't turned your gaze away, you would have seen gojo's eyes twitch as he took in your battle-worn appearance, the scar that ran underneath bandages where an eye would have once been. if you had paid more attention, you would have heard his intake of breath as he ran his tongue behind his teeth, with a vow, a promise.

"guess who's going to kick sukuna's ass so far back to the heian era," gojo murmured, and you let out a shaky laugh that echoes all the way down to the marrows of your bones.

"yeah, i thought you were just all talk."

"i'm still alive, aren't i?" he shot back, cocky and boyish once more, and your eyes traced over him, drinking in every small change, the sharper clench in his jaw, the tautness in his frame, the way his shoulders seemed broader, like he had been carved up in the prison realm anew. and it leaves you melancholic.

in another universe, the two of you were still young, hand in hand underneath the blue sky as the cool breeze ran through your hair. but battles had turned to war, and the night had no time for what ifs.

"hey, don't go worrying about me," gojo murmured, almost as though he had caught the shadow in your heart, and he plastered a grin on his face, stretching his toned arms in some show of nonchalance, but his gaze lingered on the ruins too long, on the mottled group of assembled sorcerers who seemed to brim with new-found confidence at his return.

and when he finally looked back at you with a new dullness in your eyes, a heaviness you hadn't seen in a long time. it left a dead weight in your chest, but you forced yourself to return his own bland smile, playing along with the front he was trying to maintain, "well, i guess i'll have to keep you out of trouble from now on."

✉️ — november-december, 2018 💬 — you.

the month began to stretch and pass in a blur on the endless horizon, complete with the aching and unbearable waiting where you knew something was going to happen, and yet you did not know when and where. shoko had forgone her own exhausation to see to the rest of the wounds, the ones that had festered under bandages and grimes, leaving faint trails over your skin but she had shaken her head sadly when it came to the socket on your face, even she could not restore an eye.

gojo had swapped his suits and jackets for loose martial pants, and a tight black top that had clung to the muscular frame that he'd honed over the years, laughing off your concerns like they were nothing more than passing clouds.

"don't fret," he'd say, "how bad could this be? you know i told yuji once that even if sukuna was at his full power, i'd still wipe the floor with him. you believe me right?"

you weren't sure if his question was cocky, or a plea, and the fatigue had caused you to snap, "and now, yuji flinches when he hears loud sounds, and he's just another kid who can't fuckin' stop wringing his hands in blood! look what you've done to him!"

gojo's eyes had twitched afterwards, the corner of his mouth pulling down, but he hadn't gotten angry. and you hated it. you hated it all.

but you had wanted to believe in him, in his optimism. you wanted to let his smooth words settle into your bones like the warm comfort they should have been. but how could you feel at ease when everyone was now playing a role? each sorcerer in this building was feigning whatever mask or persona that they had painted and drawn across their face, just as you had. just as gojo did.

but nothing was the same anymore.

and neither were you.

the loss of your eye, the streaks of scars on your skin haunted you. it felt cowardly to say, but this was not the life you should have lived. you simply just didn't see yourself as strong enough, and your eyes watered thinking about the days when you dallied under a clear sky, skirts swaying along the grass as you trailed after your best friend, catching fireflies, exploring shrines, falling to the earth in child-like innocence.

the hollow space on your face, the empty socket served as a reminder of what you had survived, of the world that had fallen into pieces. was there anyone here who would recognise themselves in the mirror anymore?

some nights, the world felt impossibly still, and you would sit at the window and press your hands to the cold of the glass as you watched a scarred city sprawl ahead of you.

you didn't turn at the sound of footsteps at first, and you sat there, with your fingers still dancing on the edge of the window. you closed your eyes as you felt him approach, close, but not enough — you wished he would sit by you, press his soft head to your own, close enough for you to hold him in your hands, curl into his skin.

"satoru, can you make another promise?"

gojo's steps had paused, just a breath but it was enough to know that you had his attention. but when he spoke, "please tell me we're not doing theatrics right now," his voice was laced with that same dismissive edge that he always used when he was trying to push the truth far away.

"can't you shut up, just once? promise me you won't let sukuna kill you, i can't even imagine -" and how irritating, and how melancholic (fuck, this was like a bad soap opera) that your throat was already tightening, your voice wavering with tears that you had been holding back for weeks.

for a moment, gojo didn't respond, and he just stood there and you needn't have turned around to know that there was no trace of laughter nor joy on his face. no easy smirk to deflect the gravity of your well-founded fears. and the silence left you cold.

for the first time, you were suddenly hoping that he might say something blasé, to tell you to stop worrying, to brush it off and just reassure you. but he didn't, he was quiet.

and so you turned to face him, and you felt almost villainous for verbalising your future grief like this, to one who must already have carried such an eternal, heavy burden.

no longer did the blue of his eyes shine like a spring sky, with feather-like clouds that danced in his iris. now, there was only a fractured storm. and god, you loathed that for the first time in what must have been years, his own face was reddening, his eyes suddenly teary, clouds gathering torrential rain.

you knew he hated being seen like this. over a decade of holding him close to your heart had made you privy to his ways, to the way that he'd furiously rub at his face when upset, as if he could will the distress away and hide his tears.

gojo had outstretched his little finger towards you now, hooking it with your own, and your heart stuttered as he brought your finger to his lips, so quick that a ghost may have brushed your skin, with the seal of a promise.

"i will try. god, i swear, i...i promise, i will try." and you knew that gojo satoru was scared, terrified even of what december 24th would bring.

"i -"

you wanted to say it all, wanted to tell him everything. but the words stuck in your throat, love and want and need and ferocious, capricious grief all sat lodged within your beating heart that was so tightly bound in iron chains.

it was a shameful thing. you should have sat there, and comforted him instead. should have told him that it was alright, and you did not know a more powerful and capable sorcerer than he, that he'd leave sukuna in ashes. should have laid your hand on his brow to soothe the lines away from his pale, streaked face.

but you had always been selfish, held onto your heart like a being of folklore, guarded and self-assuming. you wept heart-aching tears, feeling them pool in your sleeves, and run hot salt trails over your lips. maybe it was a testament to how much gojo satoru loved you too, that he could not bear to see you in such grief, and he hesitated.

then he turned to leave you by the window.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

the turn of the year felt cold, far too chilly, even though the night was still young. the city lights twinkled in solitary clumps outside, but they were just as dim as the heavy weight in your chest. the walls seemed to close in as gojo prepared to leave, to face sukuna — the king of curses. and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers, something that you would never be able to grasp again, no matter how tightly you gripped.

everyone had wished him luck, calling your their bravest words of encouragement as he walked past them, their voices echoing through the hall, as they slapped him on the back.

they all cheered the same platitudes.

"go fuck sukuna up!"

"language!"

"sorry, choso."

"show him what you're made of!"

"prove that you're not just a pretty face, gojo!"

and so you had plastered the same smile on your face, hoping that it would reach your eyes as gojo winked at you, "hey, before you start telling me off, now it's your turn to promise me something."

you had cocked your head up at him, ignoring shoko's narrowed, tired eyes, "yeah?"

"mhm," satoru nodded, pulling his arms around you, "after this, after all this bullshit, we get to take a vacation."

a barked laugh escaped you, before it collapsed into a giggle, "you want paid leave? that's all it is?"

your best friend's large hands gripped you, flat against your back, "yeah, that's all there is. we're gonna go take a holiday, sit by the beach, watch the ocean. keep it simple."

"a picnic too, eh?"

gojo nodded, humming, "we'll plan everything. about time we got to take a break. i'll be back before you even know it."

you felt his voice hitch against your ear, and your heart twisted painfully in response, he wasn't saying it but you both knew the cold truth, there was a real chance that he may never come back. before your vision could blur, you pressed his lips to his cheek, letting them linger for a moment on smooth skin (and you felt his arms tighten around you) and hoped that whatever you hoped to say, whatever spine you lacked, could be expressed so swiftly.

"come back then, please. i'll be ready." you whispered between his skin and your lips, the tremble leaving no space for air in your lungs.

for a moment, he didn't answer, just held you, and you tried to focus on the feeling of his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. then, just as you were about to pull away, he spoke, the words falling from his mouth, so familiar and so effortless.

"of course i will. i always do."

there was a flicker of something raw there in his eyes, and you had seen it both before and after shibuya. his lips parted as if he were about to say something, but whatever it was, it never came. instead, he just nodded, a silent promise — unspoken, but felt deep in your bones.

without another word, he turned toward the door. and just before stepping out, he looked back one last time. that smile, that arrogant, confident smile that always made your heart race —i t was there, but it wasn’t the same. it was stretched thin, fragile. his blue eyes were tired, haunted, and for a moment, you saw the truth — the part of him he always kept hidden. the fear. the doubt.

"i'll be back," he repeated, but this time, it didn’t sound like a joke. it sounded like a prayer. a desperate, half-broken promise from the closest thing that the world had to a god.

you couldn’t speak. your heart was lodged in your throat, and the words that you needed to say just wouldn’t come. you wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you always had, that you were scared to lose him, that the world without him in it felt like a hollow echo of what it could be. but you couldn’t.

instead, you just nodded, your face a mask of emotions you couldn’t express.

and then, with one final look, a look that held everything neither of you had the courage to say — he stepped out into the cold, his footsteps fading into the distance.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

gojo satoru was dead.

dead. killed.

for a moment, you stood frozen in the doorway of shoko's office, numbness seeping into your bones with a furious grief as you stared at the cold, unmoving form that was once satoru.

fuck, there was bile in your throat as a once lively boy now lay in four pieces, cleanly sliced by sukuna's unforgiving technique, and the sight was a nightmare made so real, something that you just couldn't reconcile with the man who had once been so vibrantly alive.

the warmth that had always clung to him had vanished, leaving his skin pale in the grasp of rigor mortis, and his lips were still flecked with dried blood that had painted a stark contrast against his stiff skin.

and his eyes, those striking blue eyes that used to glint with love and hope and dreams, were now dull, and still open. you had not the heart to close them, for once your hand pulled his eyelids down, you would never see them again, never look into his eyes until it was your time to pass from the circles of the world.

the last thing you’d seen of him had been that cocky grin, that wink that seemed so unbreakable, that laugh that lingered even as he left your embrace. he’d held you, promised you that he would come back, but now, as you stood there, that promise felt like a cruel lie, something that should’ve warned you but instead gave you nothing but hope.

you choked on a breath, your hand coming up to your mouth as you felt the weight of your unspoken words sink down like lead. i should have told him. you’d wanted to say it all, to let him know how much he meant to you, to tell him that he was your everything. but the words had died in your throat, held back by fear, by the delusion that there’d always be another chance, that he’d always come back.

you’d believed him. you’d believed, with every part of yourself, that he’d make it out alive.

but here he was, torn apart, the last shreds of life stolen from him by the king of curses. you had seen him being cut down, like a sheaf of wheat under a god's sickle, how sudden and gut wrenching it had been, and for the second time in a month, you had been on the edge of hurling onto the stone. but this time, the half-curse beside you, choso, hadn't stopped you from losing the contents of your stomach, as instead he had pressed his younger brother's cries to his broad chest, the grief swallowing the entire room.

gojo hadn’t been given the chance to fight back, hadn’t even been able to draw a breath before he’d been torn apart. and that final thought — that he’d been caught off guard, helpless, alone in his last moments — left you feeling shattered, grief clawing at you with merciless hands.

your knees felt weak as you moved toward him, your trembling fingers reaching out to touch his face, cold and unyielding beneath your hand. you traced the lines of his face, memorising every detail, as if somehow, through touch alone, you could keep a piece of him with you. a tear slipped down your cheek, landing on his lips, lips that had once murmured promises, had brushed against your skin in fleeting, unspoken moments. the tear brought moisture once more to the blood that splattered his face, but quickly, it disappeared, drying and taking away any life.

"i should’ve told you,” you whispered, your voice broken, raw, laced with the pain of regret, "i don't know if you ever knew how much i loved you."

you closed your eyes, the silence thickening around you, pressing down until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. your mind replayed every smile, every laugh, every word he’d ever spoken to you, each memory twisting the knife of grief deeper into your chest. the emptiness of the room swallowed you whole, and all that was left was the aching, unbearable reality that he was gone — that the man who had been your best friend, your confidant, your everything, was nothing more than a memory now.

you stayed there, your hand resting on his cold cheek, as if the warmth of your touch could somehow reach him, bring him back. but he was gone, and with him, he’d taken the words you’d never been able to say, the love you’d never been able to give.

and as the silence closed in around you, suffocating and absolute, you knew that part of you had died with him.

✉️ — not so long later. 💬 — you. it could only be you now, for you are the only one left.

the sun was beginning to set as you reached the shore, casting an amber glow over the ocean. the waves lapped quietly against the sand, as a gentle roll becoming a reminder that the world was still moving, even when the battles were done.

even though everything within you felt like it had come to a standstill. you clutched a folded piece of glossy card, and a box. two things that shoko said she found on him, things that she thought you should keep, she added quietly.

and so, you sat down on the sand, letting the evening wind sweep over you as you gazed out at the endless stretch of water. the ocean had always been something you had dreamed of seeing together, an endless horizon that was wild and untameable, just like gojo satoru had been. but he was gone, gone, and that promise would forever remain unkept.

you opened the folded glossy card, wincing as you tried not to press the faded creases further, brushing over the faded edges. it was dated to the fall of 2005, and you bit your lip as you saw your own image stare back at you. when the world had felt endless, and you had two wide eyes to see it with. there you were, that day in the market, laughing in the photo with your head thrown back sweetly, and you wetly laughed as you saw geto suguru's confused expression in the background, clearly exasperated with gojo's photography skills.

a choked sob escaped you as you traced your smile in the photo, so oblivious to what would come. you’d been so happy then, wrapped in a moment that had felt simple and whole. gojo had teased you relentlessly that day, snapping photos every chance he got, and you’d thought he was just being his usual, silly self. you’d never realised he’d kept this one one, never knew it meant enough for him to carry it all this time.

with a shaking hand, you opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. fuck.

it was beautiful, impossibly beautiful, as if he’d carefully chosen each detail with you in mind. the diamond glistened in the fading light, flecked with small blue stones that reminded you of his eyes, the eyes that used to light up every time he looked at you. this ring was supposed to be a promise, just as the ones you made when you locked little fingers — a promise he never got the chance to make, a life together that you’d both been too afraid to admit you wanted.

the first tear fell, splashing onto the sand below, followed by another, and then another, until you were trembling, the grief tearing out of you in waves, raw and unstoppable. you held the ring to your chest, clutching it as if somehow, by holding it close, you could feel him, hear his laughter, feel the warmth of his arms around you.

you could almost hear his voice on the wind, that playful edge mixed with tenderness as he called you by one of his ridiculous pet names. sweetheart, honey, my pumpkin pie, followed by your irritated huff telling him to drop those names.

but truly, here was nothing. just the sound of the waves, relentless and indifferent, echoing the hollow ache in your chest.

the what-ifs clawed at you, memories replaying over and over in your mind: moments when you’d almost reached for him, almost whispered the words, almost let your heart break free. but each time, you’d held back, too afraid to disrupt the delicate balance between you, too certain there’d be another day. but now, those moments were gone, scattered like dust in the wind, and the weight of those unsaid words felt unbearable.

you pressed the photograph to your lips, closing your eyes as if you could summon him back, if only for a moment. but when you opened your eyes, all that greeted you was the empty horizon, stretching out into nothingness.

"i love you,” you murmured, voice broken, barely more than a whisper. "i love you. i always loved you."

the words hung in the air, unheard, unanswered. it was too late, too late for confessions, too late for promises. the life you’d wanted with him, the life he’d carried in his pocket with a ring and a photograph, was gone, lost to the cruel twist of fate that had taken him from you.

you stayed there on the sand as the sky darkened, the weight of his absence pressing down on you like a storm. the wind whipped around you, cold and biting, and you shivered, clutching his ring, his memory, as if that alone could keep you grounded.

as night fell, the stars began to appear, dotting the sky with fragile points of light, distant and unreachable. and you sat there, letting the grief wash over you, lost in the silent, aching expanse of the ocean and the memories of a love that would remain forever unspoken, forever unfulfilled.

wasn't love the greatest curse of them all?

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo angst #satoru gojo #works #lol ive spent too long on this. will proofread later <3

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wileys-russo · 9 months ago

Note

Kcc "ky,no,thats just for childs" shopping center

changed the wording up just a smidge for kidsII k.cooney cross

"babe are you done now?" you rolled your eyes at the whine from outside, fixing the top of the dress you were trying on and looking at yourself in the mirror.

"no! just sit patiently ky." you chuckled at the groan which followed, kyra slumping back down into the chair and tapping her feet, already bored of everything on her phone as her eyes roamed the store.

you'd warned her when you'd made the plans to go shopping that she shouldn't come, knowing how easily she got bored and detested shopping for the most part.

but kyra still insisted on accompanying you, though as she sat waiting in what felt like the 100th store she was starting to regret her decision. you had a family wedding coming up and needed to find something to wear, and kyra should have known you'd test out every possible option before deciding on anything.

"what do you think?" her attention snapped up as you stepped out of the change rooms, twirling as a smile settled on her lips. "i think you look gorgeous babe, just like you did in the last five." kyra complimented as you shot her a playful glare.

"i've got two more to try on and then we're done." you promised sending her a smile as she sighed in relief, tapping her lips as you rolled your eyes but pecked them anyway.

"good! i can't wait to go home." kyra sighed happily as you gave her a funny look. "done in this store baby, not done done." you corrected before pulling the change room curtains shut as your girlfriend let out a long and tired groan.

it was two hours later that kyra's thin veil of patience disappeared all together.

"kyra. two more stores! come on." you held your hand out and wiggled your fingers as she shook her head, rooted to the spot with her arms crossed and a scowl.

"you've already bought two options, pick one and lets go." kyra huffed, holding the car keys captive in her pocket as you shook your head. "i warned you i'd be awhile and you still insisted on coming, you're being a child!" you warned as the girl shrugged.

"alright, fine." she turned on heel as you exhaled and started to follow after her, not really having much of a choice since she also insisted on carrying your bag which had your phone and wallet in it.

"what are you doing?" you asked deadpan as she stopped and sat down on a childrens carousel, far too large for the small firetruck she somehow squeezed herself into.

"ky no, those are for kids." you warned as she shrugged unbothered, wiggling her way in until she was comfortable. "well if i'm acting like a child then its fine. you go shopping, i'll be here going around and around until you're done!" your girlfriend tapped her card to start the carousel as you stared in disbelief.

"you are unbelievable." you sighed, grabbing your bag off of her as she span past and held it out before walking off and leaving her behind.

but as she did with nearly everything, kyra eventually grew bored of the carousel, having rode it around and around for about half an hour still with no sign of you returning. but as the ride eventually came to a stop, kyra was met with yet another problem.

a grunt came from her mouth as she tried to pull herself out of the small firetruck but found she could only get one leg out, the other wedged inside as the australian let out a groan.

"kyra? ky!" the midfielder winced hearing some new voices call out her name, glancing over her shoulder to see charli and a couple of her spurs teammates making their way over.

quickly jumping back in to save face kyra plastered a smile on her face and waved as the girls arrived. "why are you sitting on a kids ride?" charli snickered as kyra shrugged.

"girlfriends shopping, we've been here since ten." kyra groaned as charli grinned, her friends excusing themselves to wander into a nearby jewelry store.

"let me guess, she told you not to come but you did anyway?" charli smiled knowingly as kyra rolled her eyes but her lack of answer was enough of an answer anyway.

"and, you're stuck. aren't you?" charli's smile widened as kyra stuttered trying to come up with an excuse but failing to do so hung her head. "yes." the brunette mumbled as charli's laugh echoed around and kyra reached out to smack her.

"shut up!" kyra warned with a huff, her best friends laughs dying down to chuckles as she stepped in to try and help, arms hooking under her elbows and trying to pull her out to no avail.

"charli?" the blonde glanced over her shoulder seeing you stood with a bag in hand and a confused look in her eyes. "kyras stuck!" the australian grinned gleefully as kyra groaned and punched her in the arm.

"didn't i tell you these were for kids?" you sighed, shaking your head in disappointment as you came closer, your girlfriend avoiding your gaze all together, apparently the only one who felt sorry for herself.

"right, you grab her knee, i'll grab her arms." you dropped your bag on the floor with the rest of them kyra had stayed with and sighed, you and charli moving positions and counting down.

nodding you both started to pull and tug at the midfielder, ignoring her constant overdramatic whines of pain, both of you telling her to shut up and reminding the only person who was really to blame was kyra herself.

eventually a few people had gathered, clearly catching onto what was happening as a couple of security guards were next to follow, charli's friends returning and watching on in amusement as you and charli stepped aside and the guards took over.

with their much larger forms and kyra falling silent at the manhandling, face burning red with embarrassment as you took a few photos, kyra's ears heating up as eventually she was freed and the small crowd clapped.

nodding her head at the stern warnings from centre management not to do anything like that again the crowd was dispersed and everyone went about their day, charli and her friends also heading off after teasing kyra who huffed and hung her head in shame.

"come on babe, lets go home." you grinned, tugging on your girlfriends hoodie as she wandered beside you with her arms crossed, having pulled her hood over her head as a means to try and disguise herself.

"careful, don't get stuck." you quipped teasingly as kyra slid into the car and shot you a glare, clicking her seatbelt in with a huff as you loaded your bags in the back and did the same.

"stop pouting! its your own fault you idiot." you laughed, leaning across the console to press a few kisses to the brunettes jutted out lips before shifting the car into drive.

"babe you sent the videos to the entire team!?"

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross

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charmandabear · 7 months ago

Note

11. Astarion x Reader 👀

We're not going to worry about how long it'll take me to answer these. We're not going to talk about it. Listen, I'm trying so hard to not make these into whole things, I just want to treat them like writing exercises, but I physically can't not finish smut once it's started.

From @astarionfreak's smut ask game ~ other entries

11. "I touched myself last night thinking about you." "I know."

Tags/Warnings: reader isn't gendered but has a vulva, blood/blood drinking, p in v sex, somewhat rough sex (reader gets a little feral in this one)

You're not subtle about it at all.

Every time he catches you staring, you quickly turn your head. At one point you even just shift your eyes, trying to pretend you're looking at something behind him. But there's no way he isn't at least a little suspicious.

Since the night you let Astarion bite you, the tension between the two of you has been palpable. Something about having him pressed down on top of you, his lips on your neck and his hand cradling your neck in a way that was disproportionately gentle set something on fire inside you. You really thought that you could just get over your little crush if you got it out of your system. Sate the need and you could go back to just being friends... Or whatever you are with him.

But it had the opposite effect. Now, his very presence turns you on. The wind catches his scent and you instinctively press your thighs together. He grins after making some sassy remark to Gale, and the glint of his fangs in the light makes your mouth go dry. You even need to suppress a moan when he gets a particularly impressive kill. You really hope no one heard that one.

So now, sitting around the campfire with the rest of your companions, you're just trying desperately to appear normal. You laugh absentmindedly at whatever joke Karlach just made while in your mind, Astarion's railing you up against a tree. It's only when you realize that Wyll has been trying to ask you a question for the past 90 seconds that you know you're too far gone to be in polite company.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it, long day," you make the excuse lamely. "I'm going to turn in a little early, I've got a bit of a headache."

"Do you want something for it?" Shadowheart asks with a frown. "I've got some herbal remedies that might help."

"I'm fine, I think I just need some rest." You force a smile onto your face. "'Night, all." You walk back to your tent stiffly, speeding up to cover the last few meters quickly. Your breath wracks through your body and your blood pounds in your ears. You've never - never - gotten this worked up over another person, never mind a man. Honestly, he's not even really your usual type, you'd normally be much more likely to pursue someone like Shadowheart. But she so clearly has a thing for Karlach, and that's not something you'd want to get in the way of.

But this pale, devastatingly handsome vampire elf has your desire in a chokehold.

You light a lantern inside your tent and take out your journal to sketch. You try to conjure some of the imagery you saw today to keep your brain off Astarion. Scratch and the owlbear cub playing. The terrifying harpies that almost lured one of the tiefling children. Astarion's blade dripping with harpy blood while his bright red eyes sparkle with mischief and the thrill of he kill.

Fucking hells.

You eventually put your journal away and lay down on your bedroll, staring at the ceiling of your tent while the others continue to chat and laugh outside. You listen to their conversation die down, their goodnights, and finally the distant sound of crickets and other nighttime fauna. Your eyes start to grow heavy, or at the very least bored of looking at the support rods in your tent.

You only realize that you've drifted to sleep when you're startled awake by a soft tapping on the canvas flap that separates you from the rest of camp.

"Y-yes?" Your voice is shakier than you'd like, although it's not like a vicious creature would politely knock on your makeshift door. The flap lifts up to reveal the literal last person you'd like to see right now.

"Hello, darling," Astarion grins in that irresistible way that he does. "I wanted to check in on our fearless leader. You've seemed dreadfully jumpy all day."

"Oh! Um." You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "I'm.. fine. Thank you, Astarion." You nod your head in a gesture of dismissal, but he doesn't move.

"Are you sure? You're positively flushed." His smile suggests he knows more than he's letting on. You chew on your lower lip to distract you from the growing ache between your legs.

"I'm perfectly fine, Astarion, thank you. Good night." You reach to close the tent flap but he holds onto it. Your fingers brush against his and it's like a jolt of lightning passes between your hands.

"I'm not buying it," he hums, dropping his voice. He pushes his way into your tent and you scramble backwards. The last thing you need is for him to touch you - you might not be able to control yourself if he does. "Now tell me, what's had you so hot and bothered all day?"

"N-nothing," you stammer, wishing you could just disappear on the spot. He raises an eyebrow and you backpedal. "Well, fine, I think something Gale cooked isn't sitting quite right with me. I was... embarrassed." The lie rings hollow even to you.

"Come now, love, we both know you're a terrible liar." He crawls towards you on his knees, a predator stalking his prey. Your breath catches in your throat. "Do you have something you need to confess?"

You're trapped. You've run out of room in the tent to back away, and Astarion has all but crawled on top of you. His scent is intoxicating and his eyes gleam in the low light. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"I touched myself last night thinking about you."

"I know." The grin that curls across his face is fiendish. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

"You know?" Then you gasp suddenly. "The tadpole..."

Astarion lets out a bark of a laugh, loud enough that you're worried it might wake your other companions. "Darling, I didn't need a tadpole to figure that one out. Like I said, you're a terrible liar." He nudges his knee closer to the apex of your legs and you can feel your arousal making your underclothes wet. "What I want to know is, how did you picture me? My head between your legs? Did I have you on all fours in the forest? Or..." His lips ghost against yours now and your head feels dizzy with lust. "Or perhaps I had you pinned down in this very tent, taking my time as I had my way with you?"

Your instincts take over and you close the minimal distance between you, pulling him down on top of you as you ravage his lips. You claw at his clothing, no longer interested in maintaining decorum. He tears at the laces of your breeches, pulling them down below your hips and exposing your dripping cunt to the open air. A cry rips through your throat as he licks a thick stripe up your slit, and his chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. He pulls up on his knees and grins down at you, open and wanton, as he slips out of his pants.

"So very eager," he hums as he frees his cock, engorged and already dripping. A shudder runs through you as you see it, and you yank on his shirt and pull him down to meet you. You kiss him roughly, catching his lower lip in your teeth as you hook your leg around his waist.

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Astarion," you hiss through gritted teeth, and you groan loudly when he easily sinks in up to his base.

"Someone wants the whole of camp to hear," he growls in your ear as he begins to slowly thrust into you.

"Then you better make it quick so we don't wake them," you snarl in response, all pretenses having vanished. You tangle your fingers into his hair and press his face to your neck. You feel his lips stretch into a smile just before he sinks his fangs into you, the icy shard of pain melting into the heat of his mouth warming with your blood.

You jut your hips up into him, desperately chasing your release as he drinks his fill. He fucks into you, hard and messy, and before long you're feeling the pressure building in your core.

"Gods, Astarion, don't stop," you gasp hungrily in his ear, and he increases his pace to a punishing rhythm. You're starting to grow faint from blood loss just as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your walls clench and shudder around his length and he tears his mouth away from your neck, his expression wild and bloody. A few more broken ruts and you can feel him spilling inside you, the feeling his pulsing cock prolonging your own climax.

The two of you eventually still, covered in a sheen of sweat and panting heavily. Your ears strain to hear if there has been any disturbance in camp to indicate that your other companions heard anything. Outside your tent remains, thankfully, silent.

"Well then," Astarion exhales quickly as he slides out of you. "Darling, if it's going to be like that, then you just need to invite me next time."

#smut ask game #astarion x reader #astarion smut #bg3 smut #smutty fanfiction #smutty one shot #bg3 astarion x reader #bg3 astarion fanfic

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yandere-paramour · 4 months ago

Note

Whats it like when Darling has their first time with Noelle?

First time with Noelle - NSFW

It was hard to pin Noelle down. Ever since you moved in, you two had followed the same routine. She gently encouraged you to work less and less because it made you oh so exhausted, to stay inside for your own safety, to lay back and relax because she would take care of everything. You became a housewife who didn't actually do anything. Noelle had a woman come in to clean and cook and deliver anything that needed delivering, your job, she said, was to be adorable.

And you were. You slept 10 hours every night and usually found the time to take an afternoon nap. You ate and drank when you were supposed to and looked pleased with the praise Noelle heaped upon you when she checked when she came home. You let her dress you in soft, flowy fabrics and coo over what a lovely little sweetheart you were. You even let her bathe you and wash your hair while you lay boneless in the bubbly water.

It was a relaxing existence, albeit a boring one. Any form of entertainment you asked for, Noelle delivered. Any book, streaming service, or gaming console would be delivered, and you were free to browse the internet and try as many new hobbies as you desired. Spending your days with Sasha as company, you lived like a pampered queen, and Noelle worked hard every day to provide for you.

And that was the one problem.

Noelle worked with Ms. Atalanta five, sometimes six, days a week, and the hours were never consistent. Some days she would be gone from before the sun rose to long into the next morning, other days she would be strolling back in the door in early afternoon. This kind of sounded stupid, but it was hard to find time for yourself. Especially... in that way. It seemed that any time the heat started to pool in your core, when your fingers got itchy and started to wander lower and lower, Noelle would come in the door looking for you, and you would have to throw on your clothes and act like you hadn't been furiously masturbating. It was infuriating.

And you couldn't go to Noelle with this. Sure, you two had done some kissing and heavy petting, and while she had been under your shirt, you both had never crossed the waistbands of each other's pants. There just... weren't enough hours in the day, and Noelle really didn't seem interested. You expected her to initiate one day, and you would gladly have spread your legs, but she never did, and you were too shy to do it yourself.

You were really starting to get frustrated. When you moved in, you had brought your toys, but they must've gotten mixed with you and Noelle's things somehow because you hadn't been able to find them. And trust, you had looked. You hated admitting to this, but you were turning into a horny animal.

And the horny was turning your brain to mush. At least, that's how you rationalized it as you lay prone on the bed, blue silk panties in a pool on the floor, your fingers frantically pumping in and out of you as you chased an orgasm too far out of reach. You sure weren't shy anymore.

"And what do we have here?" A familiar voice came from behind you and ice filled your veins.

Your head whirled over your shoulder. You must've looked like an idiot, face down, ass up, fingers still inside you as you looked at Noelle, leaning against the door jamb, eyebrow raised as she took you in.

Slowly, you took your hand out, careful to keep the excess fluid from dripping on the silk sheets. You turned over, trying unsuccessfully to regain some dignity as you pulled the blankets over to cover yourself.

"Hi Noelle," You swallowed dryly, "When did you come home?"

"Just now. And to something interesting, I might add. What are we doing?" Noelle gave you a mildly disapproving look and your face burned with shame, then anger.

"This is your fault!" You exploded at her, "What the hell do I have to do to get you to touch me? I've lived with you for eight months and you never go past kissing! I'm in your bed every night in a silk neglige and no panties! Am I not attractive to you or something?"

You started to lose some steam, and tears came to your eyes, "Don't you love me?"

Noelle was silent for a minute, and you started to wilt. As small as she was, she had an incredibly imposing presence and you had never even spoken sharply to her before, let alone yelled at her like this. You had no idea why she was looking at you in that way, or what she might say or do. You didn't want to admit it, but you were kind of scared.

"Oh, baby..." Noelle looked at you with pitying eyes, "I clearly have not been taking care of you the way you needed. I had no idea, Princess."

Well, this was unexpected, "What?"

"I was trying to take it slow and really ease you in, but I guess I was a little too slow. I just didn't want to push you too fast."

"Huh? What do you-"

"Take off the rest of your clothes. On your back, legs spread. I'm going to the closet for a minute, and you will wait here for me."

"Noelle, I don't understan-"

"Now."

At the sound of her authoritarian voice, you hurried to obey. You tore your shirt off and lay on your back wide open as instructed, your genitals lubricating despite your confusion and apprehension. What was she doing? Was she going to punish you? Was masturbating not allowed here? You had been punished before but never sexually, and Noelle had never made the rule clear if it even existed, but would she listen if you protested? You were unclear how important this was to her; maybe she was angrier than you'd ever seen her and she would spank you. You heard Ms. Atalanta did that to her wife and she reported it was effective at curbing disobedient behavior. But then, why would she order you on your back?

A sound came from your right and you turned to gape. Noelle was naked, every inch of her soft pale body on display and illuminated by day, making her look like a goddess emerging from the sunlight. You had seen her naked before, you both bathed together most nights, but you had never seen the harness and erect dildo she had strapped to her front. The contraption was massive, making Noelle's body look smaller in comparison, and what little ration you had left in your body wondered if it would fit. You weren't a virgin, but you were tight and unsure if you would stretch to fit that mammoth thing inside you.

You tried to sit up, but she was on you in seconds, that snake on the front of her body lining up with your hole. You stilled, and some of the fear must have bled into your eyes because Noelle paused. She put her hands on your face, making you look her in the eye.

"Are you scared? I'll stop if you're scared," She said.

"I-I'm not scared, just... will that fit?"

Noelle popped two fingers down to check you, "It'll be a little of a stretch but you can take me. I'm sure of it."

"I-I can?"

She grinned, and the love in her eyes comforted you, "You're my girl. I know you can."

With that, she entered you in one swift motion. She surprised you, enabling your muscles not to tense up until she was fully inside. You yelped, more in surprise than discomfort, and Noelle chuckled. She was right; you had been able to take her with little more than the burn as you stretched deliciously around her. She gave you only a few seconds to get used to the feeling of her inside you before she started. She was only gentle for a few strokes before she truly found her rhythm, folding up your legs onto her shoulders in a mating press so she could fuck you harder. She pounded into you roughly, the soft mattress bouncing you up and down as you struggled to keep yourself steady. Noelle's soft grunts came with every stroke and you mewled like a kitten and drooled as she took you.

It truly surprised you the strength this small woman had in her body. She mounted you like an animal, pumping away with everything she had. You could see the strain in her muscles, and you wanted her to take a break and rest before she exhausted herself, but all your mouth could say was "Yes" and "More" and "Please please please".

Ever the observer, Noelle noticed when you were nearing orgasm. She growled something dominating in your voice, commanding you to orgasm for her, and you howled like a coyote as you came. Tears rolled down your face, and you collapsed dizzy, exhausted, and sweating back onto the bed. You must've looked like a sight, fucked into a state of bliss and drenched in your own fluids. Noelle pulled out of you, looking down at you warmly as she swiped some of you off the dildo, bringing her fingers to her mouth to taste you.

"I knew you would be sweet," She chuckled, lightly pinching your cheek in a gesture of fondness.

"N-Noelle, that was-"

"I know, Princess. Try and relax, okay? Let me take care of you."

"Take... care of me?"

"You've lost a lot of fluids," She gestured between your legs, "Let me get you some water."

"No," You grabbed her arm to keep from leaving you, "Not yet. Don't go yet."

"I'm not leaving you, sweetheart. I'm just going to get you some water and something quick to eat."

You gave her your softest, most pathetic gaze, "Not yet, please? I just want to cuddle first."

Noelle froze for a second in that shocked look she always gave you when you surprised her, then softened, "Well I can't deny that request. Scoot over, baby."

Noelle slipped the harness off her hips and dropped it on the floor to clean later. She slid in behind you, tucking her body around yours, and you curled in response to her becoming the big spoon. It was safe here in her arms; she was so much stronger, smarter, more ambitious than you. It was easier for you to just settle in her arms, content to be a pretty pet for her to love and care for and occasionally reward with a good fucking. Maybe the necklace she gave you was her inconspicuous way of collaring you, her way of marking you as hers before others, or even you, knew for sure.

Noelle whispered about how good you were, how well you took every little thing she gave you and how perfect you looked with her cock spearing you in half. You listened, her words liquefying your mind and the pleasant tingling in your used genitals soothing your body. You would be sore later, but now you were snug in her arms, the hormones of your orgasm and the soft song Noelle hummed putting you to sleep.

She kissed your forehead, and you made a soft, sleepy noise in response.

Noelle chuckled, "Go to sleep, angel. I'll be here when you wake up, and you and I can have a long conversation about new expectations when you wake up."

You made a confused sound, and she patted your head and hushed you.

"I know, Princess," Noelle pacified you, "I know what you want and I promise, I'll do that a lot more often. I'd give you anything, remember?"

You gave a small happy wiggle and snuggled back in, pleased that your amazing girlfriend knew you better than you knew yourself, and had promised to fuck you like a dog in heat more frequently.

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dinoace2 · 5 months ago

Text

For @hg-aneh , this comic they made :]

Bit of a different take, this time, what if it wasn't just that he didn't talk, but he couldn't?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a shitty day.

All the days had been shitty.

Aziraphale had lost count how many there had been so far, and rain doesn't exist in Heaven. But clouds massing over Soho suggested that the newest thunderstorm was on its way, and it was going to be a big one.

Earlier...

"No, no, please, you can't do this!" Aziraphale thrashed about, trying to loose the grip of the Powers who held onto each of his arms. One on either side, holding tight to ensure he couldn't move.

Uriel sneered at him, their eyes flaring with anger. "I already told you once, Aziraphale. You ask too many questions. Supreme Archangel or not, there still remain standards that must be met. Lines that cannot be crossed."

Aziraphale frowned. "It still seems quite reasonable to me to demand why! The very idea of creating Humanity, just to destroy it, it's...well, it's senseless! Sure, they've made mistakes, but they don't deserve utter annihilation for it! And they definitely don't deserve it if the only reason is 'the Almighty has grown bored of Her little social experiment'! That logic is, quite frankly, nothing short of childish and ridic- !"

One of the other angels cut him off with a knee to the stomach. He winced, letting out a huff of air as he sank to his knees.

"Thats enough!" Michael frowned. "I'm not sure what the Metatron saw in you before, but I'm glad He finally came to His senses." She leaned down, inches from his face. "I've half a mind to strike you down where you stand, traitor."

"S-surely," Aziraphale whispered, his voice hoarse. "Surely, this can't be what She wants. This can't be Her will."

“You don't have the right to suggest what She wants.” Michael scowled. “such blasphemy begs execution.”

“I think you and I both know what happened the last time you tried.” Aziraphale managed a smirk.

“We're well aware, thank you.” She huffed. “we had to get creative this time around, I hate to say.” She waved a hand. “Uriel!”

She stepped aside as the other archangel approached, some sort of weapon in hand. They raised their arm to strike, and Aziraphale flinched, his eyes shut tight.

…

He paused. Wasn't something supposed to happen? He opened his eyes, only to find Uriel already putting their weapon away.

What happ- he paused. His mouth had opened, his lips formed the words, but…he didn't say anything. No sound came out.

He tried again, getting the same result. Michael chuckled. “A fitting consequence for the angel who talked too much, no?” she waved to the angels on either side of him. “You know what to do.”

Aziraphale struggled in their grasp as they dragged him away, far past the point of no return.

~~~

It burns...

It's so cold, but it burns...

Aziraphale wasn't sure how long he'd been falling.

He felt infernal wind flying around him, whipping in his hair and tearing through his feathers. It was completely dark, he couldn't see anything. The only reason he knew which way was down was because thats the direction he was going.

Hellfire lashed at him as he Fell, flicking at his clothes, his skin, his wings. Every burst of flame stung with a flash of icy, searing pain that burned deep into his soul.

He wanted to cry out, to scream, to call for something, anything, but when his mouth opened he was still trapped in the same empty, maddening silence as if he had done nothing at all.

He wondered if this was how Crowley felt when he Fell; freezing, burning, hurting...alone. Thinking through everything that led him here. Wondering if he did the right thing. Wondering if there was anything else he should have done, anything else he could have done, to possibly have changed what he now faced.

Crowley...

What would he say, when he saw Aziraphale like this? What would he do? Would he even do anything? Would he glare down at him? Say 'I told you so'? Grin and laugh? Or maybe he'd just walk away, not even dignifying a response. Aziraphale wouldn't even blame him for that, considering how he left things. Whatever Crowley decided to do, it was definitely going to be deserved.

He put a hand to his throat, realizing that, whatever happened, he wouldn't be able to say anything. Wouldn't be able to explain himself, or say anything that he wanted to, or... he paused, then hugged himself. For the rest of eternity, no matter how much he may want to, no matter how hard he'd try, he would never be able to tell Crowley those three bloody words that he'd always wanted to say. Those three blasted words that had been on the tip of his tongue for millenia. Those three damned words that he should have said before.

But...even if he said them now...there was no guarantee (or, at this point, no chance) that Crowley would accept it, surely. Not after everything he did...after everything that happened.

He hugged himself, pulling his knees to his chest, and choked on a silent sob. Everything hurt, he felt confused and scared and ruined. All he felt he could do was fall, and wait for the crash.

~~~

Aziraphale's eyes opened. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what he was. He felt nothing at all. But at the same time he felt everything…and it all hurt. His lungs burned and his eyes stung. A cloud of ash lingered around him, smothering the nearby air and nearly making him choke.

He wanted to curl up, to cry, to never move again. He felt like he couldn't move, yet still that he had to. His face hardly moved, his expression limp and exhausted and miserable. In all fairness, that's exactly how he felt. Nothing.

He gathered what strength he had and pulled himself to sit up, looking around. His skin stung with burns and his eyes couldn't quite focus. His fingers curled in coarse, sharp, black sand beneath him, and waves lapped at his feet. A burnt smell came from the bubbling ‘water’. Sulfur…? It looked like some sort of…infernal beach.

He got to his feet, brushing the sand off his coat and beginning to walk. Hell's offices must not be far from here.

Sure enough, after walking for a while he made it to a dim-lit building, greenish light spilling out of the few windows. Heaven's basement, indeed.

When Aziraphale opened the doors, all went suddenly still and silent. All eyes fell on him. The cramped crowds parted as he walked past, perhaps out of recognition, perhaps out of fear. He stopped one demon on his way, asking for directions by simply pointing a finger up.

~~~

The clouds overhead were dense and dark, nearly blotting out the natural sunlight of the late afternoon. Thunder rolled in the distance, deep and low, a promise of the storm that was to come.

A distinct ding echoed in the empty Soho street corner, and a cloud of ash spilled out onto the sidewalk.

As if to gather what dignity he had left, Aziraphale straightened his coat, straightening the wrinkles in the fabric, and approached A.Z. Fell and Co. The first raindrops of the oncoming tempest splashed against the pavement.

He hesitated as he reached for the door. The bookshop was an embassy after all. Demons aren't allowed to pass without permission...would he even be able to go inside his own- well...not his anymore - home? His fingers clasped around the doorknob and gently turned it, breathing out a sigh of relief when nothing stopped him.

The familiar chime of the doorbell was almost comforting as he stepped inside, but relief was quick to be replaced by regret.

It was dark. The lights were all out, the shades all drawn. The shop looked untouched, and while ordinarily that would be a good thing, not like this. Everything was covered in a visible layer of dust. He swiped his finger on the till counter, carving a revealed line of clean wood beneath the soft gray film. Not just untouched, but abandoned.

You poor thing...wasn't Muriel supposed to look after you?

Among the stagnant, silent scenery, a mop of long red hair was draped across a table. The body slumped beneath it stirred at the sound of the doorbell. Golden eyes blinked slowly, adjusting to the shift in lighting.

Aziraphale stood still, saying nothing, doing nothing. What happened to you? How long was I gone? How long have you been alone? His mind raced with questions that he couldn't voice.

Once he noticed the figure in front of him, Crowley was quick to sit upright, eyes wide. "Oh..." Frantic emotions of all natures flashed across his expression as he tried to determine whether the sight before him was really and truly there.

"Oh!"

He got to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well! Look who bothered to show up!" A sharp grin took over his face as he sauntered up to the visitor. "The Supreme Asshat of Heaven, dirtying his clean little shoes to come and laugh at the pitiful, sad demon." His voice came out as a hiss, laced with bitter sarcasm and poorly-disguised sadness. Aziraphale didn't move, didn't respond. He couldn't.

I'm so sorry, dear…is that what you think ive been feeling? What I've been up to? Why would I ever mock you, I could never-

Crowley put his hands up and spoke in a mocking tone. “‘Ooh, poor Crowley, he must be feeling so pathetic, all alone’.” He grinned wider, his arms flat at his sides. “Well. The joke's on you. I'm better than ever on my own. Just me. A team of Myself.” He stepped forward once more, blinking away tears. “I don't need you!”

Aziraphale just looked at him, part of his mind wondering if this new form could cry.

Inches away from his face, Crowley nearly shouted, “So tell me, Angel, why did you come back?! Why are you here, Aziraphale?!”

With a shaky breath and a whoosh of feathers, Aziraphale answered his question. It…seemed the easiest way to communicate, considering the circumstances. Thunder cracked outside, a flash of light through the windows highlighting the jet-black wings from behind. He could do nothing but watch, as the color drained from Crowley's face.

“You….you-” he was still for a moment, quiet and shaky. His anger seemed to shift, still present but no longer directed at Aziraphale. “You idiot!” He launched forward and grabbed Aziraphale by his jacket’s lapels. “Why, Aziraphale?! Why did you leave?! Why did you go back?! Why?” He finally choked on a sob, collapsing against Aziraphale's chest. “Why, Angel…why…why…” He dissolved into broken cries, sinking to his knees as he begged for answers.

Oh, Crowley…

They sat in silence for a long while, Aziraphale unsure of what to do. He certainly couldn't say anything.

When Crowley's sobs slowed to soft whimpers, the angel stepped back. Crowley looked up at him, confusion in his gaze.

Aziraphale took a breath, then recited the simple, memorized steps in his head. Stepped forward with one hand up and the other on his hip, kicked his leg back and lifted his arms, spun around on one foot, and ended in a bow. You were right, you were right, I was wrong, you were right. He sunk down on the bow, propping himself on one knee and keeping his head low.

Crowley was silent, his jaw slack as he processed what just happened.

“...Angel-”

He reached up, gently holding Aziraphale's cheek with one hand. Aziraphale closed his eyes, leaning into the demon's touch.

“...say something…please…” He whispered, leaning closer.

‘I can't,’ Aziraphale mouthed, trying to gesture to his neck. ‘I'm sorry.’

Crowley paused, nodding slightly. He seemed to understand. He pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together. “...Heaven took it from you…didn't they.” It was more of a statement than a question. When Aziraphale nodded, he sighed. “Those angels and their ‘poetic justice’, huh? They…they think they have the right to take everything…I get it. I've been there. Though I'm sure you know that already, heh.” He smiled weakly, and he felt a silent chuckle shake in Aziraphale's chest.

“...im glad you came back,” Crowley whispered. “I…im sorry how I acted…what I said, when you left…a-and…the…the kiss, i…im so sorry…I wish it had happened under better circumstances…or…maybe even just…never at all, I…I just…you…” his rambling trailed off, as Aziraphale cupped his face in both hands, gently lifting his chin.

The little space between them closed, their lips falling together as both demons desperately clung to one another, their only lifeline in an otherwise empty world. This wasn't like the last one. The last one was a plea to stay…this one was a promise.

Tears finally fell down Aziraphale's cheeks, stinging his skin as he pulled Crowley closer still. He pressed kisses to his lips, his cheek, along his jaw, anywhere he could reach. He mouthed what he couldn't say against Crowley's skin, three words over and over, whispered silently wherever he touched. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Crowley pulled away, if only to breathe for a moment. “Aziraphale…” He wiped at the tears on his cheeks with his thumbs.

He hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “my offer still stands, you know…our side…together. Just us…if- if you're interested, I mean. I…I know, it…sounds lonely…but…nothin’ wrong with being lonely together, is there?” He offered a weak smile.

Aziraphale smiled, a real, true smile for the first time since getting on that bloody elevator oh-so-long ago, nodding as he clung tightly to his other half.

Together. Our side. As long as we have each other.

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! :]

#angst my beloved #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale good omens #aziraphale #good omens aziraphale #crowley good omens #crowley #good omens fic #good omens

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cryptic--writing · 4 months ago

Text

hihi!

this is for @mustainegf writing comp- I've never written fanfiction (let alone smut) before so i hope this isn't too terrible

(also ik the pic is MOP era but its the only pic of them in the snow with cliff so pretend its RTL era)

word count: 4,334

warnings: fluff, eventual smut (it takes awhile), kissing, really awkward moments, reader blushes way too much and is too nervous around james

𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙄𝘾𝙀 (1985 james)

Every so often, my brother, Lars, would allow me to join him and his band, Metallica, on tour. This was one of those every so oftens as the band traveled to our home country, Denmark. I always enjoyed these times traveling with him. I loved the scenes and the music, but, I mostly looked for to getting to spend time with one of his closest friends, James.

This stop of the tour was a longer one, instead of the regular show-and-go, the five of us were going to spend the weekend here in our place of childhood, Gentofte Municipality, Denmark. We were able to muster the money to rent a 2 bedroom cabin, which wasn't too convenient with five of us planning to stay there the full weekend.

As much as it would've joyed me to share a bed with James, I knew it would've been awkward for not just us, but the whole band, so I took the couch in the end. Lars and James would share one of the rooms, and Kirk and Cliff in the other.

The cabin was slightly cramped, for five people at least. The scenery was beautiful, a perfect, homey, and cozy feeling.

It was the second day of our time here, so the place had grown quite messy due to the boy's frequent drinking and rowdy behavior. They had performed the night prior, so the fridge was empty, with nothing to eat or drink.

It was nearing 8 PM, and we were all thirsty and hungry for something to eat.

We were all sitting in the messy living room, scattered with empty cans and bottles of beer with chip bags scattered about as well.

“The storm is only gonna get worse, we should go get something before the stores close.” Lars finally decided, glancing around the other four of us, who all collectively nodded.

“I’ll go with you, I need to get out anyways, it's too tight in here.” Kirk agreed, standing up to grab the keys of the rental car we had gotten.

“You guys wanna go?” Lars questioned James, Cliff, and I.

Cliff nodded, standing with a sigh, “Uhm, sure I guess, I’ll go.”

“James? You gonna come?” Lars asked again, to which James shook his head.

“You think I’d go out in that shit? No, I'll stay in here.” He said with a scoff.

Lars nodded with a sigh, “Alright, you?”

I shook my head, “Nah, I'm good.” I said, my tone slightly hesitant.

Lars nodded, saying goodbye as he walked out with the other two, heading towards the car.

It seemed that with them leaving, the room felt hotter, even with missing three bodies. I wasn't paying much attention, my eyes absentmindedly staring at James.

The two of us had never really had time alone, it was always with Lars or the whole band there. I watched as he fidgeted with his thumbs before standing up and walking towards the window, my eyes following his every move.

I didn't think he could see me staring, as I never made it too obvious, but he could feel my eyes boring into him.

“Storm is only getting rougher out there, it's gonna be a mess when they come back,” James observed, though his words were just an absent hum as I was lost in my thoughts, staring at the man I had been crushing on since I met him.

My eyes traced each of his features, studying how his messy, long, curly blonde mane draped on his back and shoulders, his muscular frame, and his strong jaw. My thoughts began to wander, too far maybe, thinking of how his bangs would cover his sweat-coated forehead, his muscles twitching as he groaned while.

“Hello? Did you hear me?” His words quickly snapped me out of my thoughts as he caught my eyes with his own.

I paused, “Uhm.. yeah, what were you talking about?” I said, my face heating, a small pink on my cheeks as he held eye contact with me from across the room.

He rolled his eyes, “I said that the storm outside is getting pretty bad. The guys may struggle to get back before everything freezes. Were you even listening?”

I nodded, “Yeah, totally, just.. spaced out a bit..” I said, my tone slightly embarrassed.

I was such a terrible liar, I hadn't even heard a word the man had said. I was too lost in the thoughts of him.

James sighed, walking back towards the couch and sitting next to me.

“Kinda cold in here, don't you think?” He asked, glancing at me as I kicked the blanket off of myself.

Cold? How is he cold? My body feels like it's on fire! With this proximity, just the two of us? How could he be cold?

“Do you dislike questions or something? Or is it me?” He teased me for not responding to his questions for the second time.

“No, sorry, just.. thinking, I guess,” I paused, trying to remember what we were talking about in the first place, “Uh, no, I don't find it too cold. It's kinda hot in here.” I said, my eyes once again wandering to him, though avoiding his own.

“Hot? It's like, 54 degrees in here, it's cold!” He said with a soft laugh.

I shrugged, god how I loved his laugh, so soft and sweet. I forced an answer, “Uh, yeah. Maybe I just need some fresh air outside..” I said, slowly standing up. I could feel his eyes follow me until I reached the front door, though it wouldn't budge. I pushed the door harder, though still, the door didn't open.

“The door is stuck,” I said, giving the door another push.

James stood, walking towards the door, standing closely behind me before gently moving me out of his way and to the side with his hands. I felt my skin burn where he touched, my face turning slightly red. He gave the door a push with all of his body weight, though still, the door wouldn't move.

James moved the curtain away from the window, seeing nothing but white snow. He scoffed in annoyance and surprise, “Seems like we're snowed in.” He stepped back, shrugging his shoulders.

I let out an annoyed groan. Now I truly was stuck in this home with him. The thought always excited me, as I would dream of getting time alone with him. But now that it's in fruition, I couldn't be more embarrassed and nervous. The snow most likely wouldn't be gone until tomorrow afternoon. How would I last with him?

He sighed, sitting down on the couch, and picking up the blanket I had kicked onto the floor, “You gonna use it?” James asked, watching me as I walked towards him and sat down next to him again.

I shook my head, “Nope, go for it.” I said, keeping a respectable half-foot between us. As much as I’d love to snuggle up to him, I'm not sure if he would.

He laughed softly again, the sound making butterflies flutter in my stomach, “This blanket isn't too warm. How did you and Lars survive living here for more than a few days? It's like the Arctic here!”

I gave a small laugh and shrugged at his comment, “I'm not sure, guess we just.. adapted.”

James smiled lightly, “I like your laugh, it's.. cute.” He admitted softly, causing me to feel like my face was on fire.

The butterflies were no longer fluttering, but fighting and dancing with each other to get out. I had to force myself to speak, or think. “Oh, uhm..” The words wouldn't come out, I felt like an idiot.

This moment felt like years and years, though it was thirty seconds. Though, James beat me to speak.

“I'm sorry, did I say something wrong? I didn't mean it like that if that's-” He said guiltily before I cut him off,

“No, no, sorry, just, spaced out again. Thank you.” My words were rushed and embarrassed. I still couldn't get over the compliment. It wasn't even a real compliment, just a comment on my laugh.

The room had an awkward, uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. I felt like I could start sweating, which I did. A small bead of sweat formed on my forehead, which I wiped away.

“Why are you sweating? It's cold in here.” James questioned me, which I shook my head in response to.

“No, I'm fine,” I mumbled out, fidgeting with my thumbs.

James nodded, “Alright, well, if you aren't, then I'll turn on the heater if you don't mind.” He said, already walking towards the heater.

I sighed, nodding and forcing a smile, maybe he didn't feel how I did about him, “Sure, go ahead.”

He pushed buttons on the thermostat, trying to get it to turn on, grumbling a few ‘cmons’ to himself as he tried to heat the cabin, which failed. He groaned in annoyance,

“The damn thing won't work! I'm gonna freeze to death in here!” He complained, which he seemed to do a lot of.

I was starting to cool down, even though my face was still slightly warm. Was I really that needy for him? Pathetic.

James sat back down on the couch, though leaving no gap like how I had. The heat of my face began to build again, only after a short break of peace. He stretched his arms out, his long, strong arms across the top of the couch, like how they did in cheesy rom-com.

His fingers brushed my shoulder, making me tense slightly. He had to know what he was doing. As if he knew how I felt, he moved even closer, our legs now touching, even with his blanket on his legs. I glanced up at him, catching his gaze. Was he staring at me? I didn't know if I should say something, but holding eye contact like this, this close, just felt.. Weird. It was something I had only dreamed of, except my dreams were never this awkward.

“What's up?” I forced myself to ask, dying to break the awkward silence.

James shrugged, “Nothing, just..” He trailed off, his eyes still on mine.

I could feel a change in the air, no longer friendly, but now with a hint of something more.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him, he was so captivating, and he couldn't let go of my eyes either.

Eventually, I couldn't stand the tension, deciding that it'd be best if I started to get ready for bed. “Uhm, I'm gonna start getting ready and put on my pajamas,” I said softly, breaking my eyes away from his as I got up and walked towards the bathroom.

James nodded, “Alright.” He acknowledged, waiting for me to return as his eyes followed me until I vanished into the bathroom.

I stood in there, staring at the mirror. For once I felt the coldness James was talking about. Maybe it was the room, maybe it was the tension, or maybe it was how I felt for him truly bubbling to the surface. I've always had a massive crush on him, but we've only had maybe 4 conversations alone that had nothing to do with the band or Lars.

I took a deep breath, quickly changing out of my sweatpants and t-shirt island into a tank top and shorts, which was not practical for weather like this, but it's what I had. I opened the door and stepped out into the living room. I was freezing and didn't see James, which confused me.

“In here,” James called out from Lars and his room. I spun around, walking down the short hallway and into the doorway, seeing him sitting on the bed in a shirt and sleep pants. I was shivering slightly, the cold air stinging my skin for the first time since the rest of the band had left. It was a relief, though I quickly got tired of the cold.

“Ya cold? You're shaking a bit.” James noticed, and I could feel his eyes raking over my now more revealed figure.

I was never one to wear smaller, skimpier clothes, so this was a sight few got to see, and I never expected James Hetfield, my crush of 3 years to see me like this. I still handt answered and a few seconds had passed. I shrugged with a nod,

“Yeah, a bit,” I admitted, crossing my arms on my chest as I tried to rub my hands up and down my arms to warm myself up.

“Maybe I could. Warm you up a bit?” He asked, slightly hesitant. His eyes didn't meet mine, as they were too busy tracing my figure.

I froze a bit. There were so many ways to interpret that. A blanket? Warm drink? Cuddling? Making out? Or even-

“Like cuddling, or, if you don't want to it's fine.” He muttered, embarrassed that he even asked.

I nodded, a small blush creeping up on my cheeks, “Oh, uh, sure, yeah..” I agreed softly, walking towards him as he moved across the bed, lying down, and getting under the covers. I sat down on the bed, giving him a glance at the question, which he didn't answer, but I took it as a yes. I lay down next to him, moving closer, feeling his arms wrap around my waist, making my face burn up again. James pressed his chest against my back, I could feel every muscle of his against my back, my heart beating faster.

“You ok? You seem tense.” James questioned me, and he was right, I don't think I’ve ever been more nervous and excited at once.

“No, I'm fine,” I muttered. Though, he wanted to test that. It was almost like he knew that he was the source of the tension in my body. He moved closer, pressing himself against me, making me burn red in my cheeks, and my heart beat faster if that was even possible.

“Am I bothering you? I'm not that scary, I promise.” He teased me.

I tensed slightly at his teasing, how could I ever play this down? It was clear he knew what he was doing, and it was driving me crazy.

“No, I'm fine, James,” I muttered, my words rushed.

He chuckled softly at my reaction, leaning his face closer to the back of my neck, his warm breath causing goosebumps. It was getting harder to deny what he was doing was having a major effect on me. His lips ghosted the back of my neck, making me bite back a whine of need, feeling heat pool between my kegs.

As much as I had dreamt of this moment, god, it was torturous.

After another minute of his teasing, I couldn't take any more of it. I rolled onto my side, now facing him, my eyes meeting his. He gave a sly smirk, which only seemed to irritate me. We stared at each other for what felt like years, though it was mere seconds. Slowly, I leaned into him, pressing a soft, gentle, and loving kiss to his lips, and he reciprocated. This was something I had only ever dreamed of.

The kiss felt like hours, though it was brief. We pulled back from each other, our eyes meeting, a small smile on both of our lips.

“You aren't great at hiding your feelings, you know?” James teased me. I rolled my eyes,

“Oh shut up, James,” I mumbled against his lips before kissing him again, this time with more need and freedom.

He nipped at my bottom lip, asking for entrance which I allowed, and what was once an awkward night on the couch changed into a steamy makeout session in bed.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as he tangled his fingers in my hair.

The moment only grew more intense, a plethora of soft moans and groans escaping our lips. I had never felt so alive, so good.

We began to run out of breath, pulling away and gasping for breath. James pulled me on top of his, kissing him again.

No words left our mouths, just filthy noises as we ravished each other's mouths. I straddled his hips with my legs, making him groan as I hovered above him. He pulled away from the kiss, staring up at me in awe,

“God, you're something else..” He mumbled, snaking his hands under my tanktop, pulling it over my head, exposing my breaths, my nipples hardening at the cold air, making me shiver slightly as goosebumps rose on my skin.

He groaned at the sigh, his hands reaching up to toy with them, making me moan softly, causing him to smirk, “You sound so pretty..” He murmured, squeezing them and pinching my nipples making me squeal.

I reached my hands down towards his shoulders, trailing my fingers down to the hem of his shirt, taking it off of him and seeing his sculpted body, making me blush at the sight.

I had never imagined that this trip would lead to this, but I was loving every minute of it.

My eyes roamed over his chest, taking in the sight I dreamed of. He noticed my staring, giving me a teasing grin,

“What? See something you like?” He teased me with that stupid grin. I rolled my eyes, moving off his lap so I could remove his pants, dragging them down his legs to reveal his hardness pressing against his boxers, making me smirk a little at the sight.

I couldn't help but tease him a little, similar to how he did me, gently tracing the outline of it with my finger, making him groan at my touch, light as a feather.

He adjusted, sitting up more, leaving me with better access as I snaked between his legs, continuing to toy with him, darting my tongue out, tracing along the fabric, earning me a much louder groan.

“You're cruel..” He groaned out, gripping my hair. I chuckled at his complaints and groans,

“You were doing the same thing to me just a bit ago..” I teased him back in response, which he wasn't pleased with, groaning again as he tightened the grip on my hair.

After a few more minutes of torturing him, milking him of his whines and groans before pulling away, admiring the wet spot now clearly evident on his boxers. I glanced up at him, wanting to make sure he wanted to do this.

“Are you sure?” I asked though I was praying full-heartedly that he'd say yes.

He nodded, “Fuck yes Im sure, hurry up..” He groaned, and I smiled, pulling down his boxers.

I gawked at the size, his cock standing proud and tall, and I could feel myself growing wetter at the sight alone.

I paused for a moment, staring down at his erection and back up at him. I had only had sex once or twice, and I was slightly unsure of what to do, which James took notice of.

“If you do not want to, that's fine, I don't wanna make you-” I quickly cut him off,

“No, this is something I've wanted forever, James. Just, I'm a bit nervous. I've only done things like this once or twice.” I admitted, embarrassed by my inexperience, especially in front of a guy who probably gets with groupies every night or so.

James nodded understandingly, sensing my fear. “That's fine, I'll guide you.” He assured me, and it helped a bit.

I nodded, sitting up and slipping out of my shorts, leaving both of us naked except for my panties. James couldn't take his eyes off me, reaching his hand out to the waistband before glancing up at me,

“Can I?” He asked gently, to which I nodded quickly, watching as the garment was discarded, James tossing it to the floor and his eyes raked over my fully exposed form, taking in every detail as if he was putting it to memory. I waited a moment before sitting back on him, straddling him, my hips hovering over his tip.

I glanced at him again, not wanting to rush things. He nodded, giving me the final ok as I sank onto him, a loud moan escaping my throat as he groaned, filling me fully and instinctively reaching for my hips, which he gripped so tightly I was sure he'd leave bruises. I sat there a moment, still adjusting to his size, as he was much bigger than the other man I had been with, I didn't feel anything, at least emotionally, but now I did.

Slowly, he began to thrust his hips up, making me moan as I slowly matched his movements, riding him as he pumped himself deeper into me.

Each of his movements allowed filthy, obscene noises to escape my lips. He moved my mouth to my neck, kissing and sucking on my sensitive flesh, stimulating me greatly, causing,e to whine and moan more.

James was breathing heavily on my neck, groaning with each thrust, “God, you're so beautiful.. So tight.. So pretty, all for me..” He groaned against my neck, slowly increasing his pace, and making me moan louder.

I needed to hold something, gripping his shoulders and digging my nails into his flesh, making him hiss through his teeth as he continued to pump into me.

I could feel myself growing tighter, clenching around him as I neared my release.

As if the pleasure couldn't grow anymore, he reached his thumb down and began to toy with my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure and need through me, making me moan louder as he continued to leave hickeys and bite marks all over my neck, marking me as his.

“You're doing so well.. Taking me so well.. You're so good..” He whispered praises to me in between his kisses, making me whine.

He continued all of his ministrations, rubbing my clit and sucking on my neck, pumping his cock deeper, faster, and harder into me, all overwhelming my senses.

“Fuck.. James, I.. I'm gonna..” I moaned out, feeling myself clench around him tighter as he groaned louder.

“Me too, baby.. Just let go..” He whispered to me, and with one final, harsh rub to my clit I came undone around him, moaning his name so loud that anyone nearby probably heard, but I didn't care. The man I've wanted for years just made me feel so good, and now he's mine, and I'm his.

He came at the same time, shooting his load deep into me, painting my insides white.

My hole continued to milk him of every last drop, pulsing around him until I could feel him soften, pulling his face away from my neck and resting my forehead against his.

“I love you, James. I have since we met..” I whispered to him, and he smiled softly in response.

“I love you too.” He murmured back to me, kissing me gently and the lips as I pulled off of him, laying down beside him as he stood up, “I’ll go get a towel to clean us up, ok?” He informed me, and I nodded with a smile.

He returned with a damp washcloth and a dry towel, carefully wiping up my most sensitive areas, not wanting to hurt me.

After he finished, he laid back down next to me, wrapping his arms around me, whispering sweet nothings and praises to me as we slowly fell asleep.

“I love you.. You're so beautiful..” James mumbled to me softly before falling asleep, and I followed soon after.

In the morning

As the sun rose, the snow slowly began to melt, freeing the door of its lack of movement.

The rest of the guys had returned, having gotten so drunk they decided to stay at a different hotel for the night.

I woke up to the sound of the front door opening, too groggy and half asleep to get up and see who or what it was, moving closer to James’ hold, which he seemed to enjoy in his sleep. I glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings.

Our clothes were scattered on the floor that surrounded the bed, though I didn't pay it any mind, as no one would come in or care.

Though, it seems I had thought wring when Lars barged through the door.

“What the fuck happened here?” He yelled out at James and me. The sight was a messy one, the two of us cuddled up, limbs sprawled, hair messy, various hickies and marks on my neck, and with our clothes all over the floor didn't paint a good light.

I was quickly snapped out of my sleepy state, pulling the blanket over my chest as James began to wake up.

“Get out!” I shouted at my brother.

He had seen me with a guy one other time, but that guy wasn't his best friend or his bandmate. He didn't move for a moment, just shaking his head as James groaned, still waking up.

“..What..?” James asked, his voice groggy and full of sleep, rubbing his eyes as he took in the sight of Lars in the bed frame, the other guys not far behind him.

“Did you sleep with my sister?” Lars called back at James.

I could feel my face heating up, god how embarrassing this was.

“I said get out you dickhole!” I yelled back at Lars, who scoffed and shut the door.

James was still half asleep, looking at me, slightly confused, “What's going on..?” He asked me sleepily.

“Lars isn't happy that I fucked you,” I admitted, still really embarrassed about this.

James scoffed, “Whatever, I’ll talk to him.” He muttered, tossing his arm around me.

“What will you tell him? He seems to have quite the stick up his ass about this.” I complained, my eyes meeting his.

“That I love you.” He answered with a smile, kissing me gently on the lips.

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