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just-aake · 4 months

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Dyeing to See You Again Part 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Dyeing to See You Again. Is it reasonable to believe that you would ever see someone who has once again disappeared from your life?

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 2046

Ohio - 2018 (Before the Snap)

Your fingers fidget with the flip phone in your hand. Only one number is in the contacts of the device.

Natasha’s

She had given it to you in case of an emergency or any trouble, but at the moment, you’re afraid that she’s the one who’s facing trouble right now.

After Natasha left, you were unable to fall back asleep, the unsettling feeling in your chest remaining despite her comforting and reassuring promises.

To distract your mind, you decide to start your day early, doing mindless tasks around the home and then the shop when the abrupt news alert brings you to where you are now.

Your finger hovers above the call button hesitantly, your brows creased in worry as you return your attention to the tv.

The news shows the devastation of the attack on the streets of New York earlier today, followed by the announcement of the disappearance of Tony Stark.

There’s no mention of any of the other Avengers, so you hoped that meant Natasha wasn’t there.

However, there hasn't been any new information for hours now.

You watch as the news anchor repeats the same things once again.

“Relief and emergency personnel are still on the scene, finding and tending to the injured. We’ll continue to provide updates as the situa—”

You stand up in shock as the person on the screen suddenly disintegrates into dust, disappearing from before your eyes. Immediately, the newsroom dissolves into a clamor of panic and screams.

Then the screen goes black.

Your paralyzed reflection stares back at you as you try to understand what just happened.

Recovering from the shock, you quickly press the call button without hesitation, needing to contact Natasha.

You begin to pace anxiously as the phone rings. When the line goes to voicemail, you bring your other hand up to press against your lips in a nervous gesture when you freeze.

The automatic voicemail message plays in your ear as you watch your raised hand slowly disappear.

Swallowing hard at the sight, you release a shaky breath as the phone beeps.

You try to keep the fear out of your voice as you speak, hoping that Natasha is okay and will hear your message.

Soon after, the phone drops to the ground with a thud, the salon now empty of any presence.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The atmosphere in the quinjet during the ride back to the Avenger Compound is somber and silent as the remaining members of the team attempt to recover from their loss.

Everyone dragged themselves defeatedly through the compound to the communal area where Steve decided to address the group.

“Be prepared to move soon. We need to check how much damage and effect Thanos caused and see who else is…” Steve trails off, his hands tightening into fists against the table.

“Gone,” Thor finishes for him, slumping into one of the chairs, continuing solemnly. “They’re all gone.”

“We don’t know that,” Steve stresses.

The others began to speak up with their comments and opinions.

All but one.

Natasha strides silently past everyone, heading directly to her room. Without pause, she goes straight to the bag she had yet to unpack since returning to the compound after rescuing Wanda and Vision.

Her hands are shaking as she rummages around, trying to find what she’s looking for before ultimately turning the bag upside down and dumping all of the contents onto the table.

The flip phone finally appears, sliding to a stop at the edge of the table.

Natasha quickly grabs and opens the device.

A message pops up on the screen, stating she has one new voicemail.

Her eyes lock on the time that it was sent, and she swallows nervously upon realizing when you had called her.

Hesitantly, Natasha presses the button to play the voicemail and raises the phone to her ear to listen.

A shaky breath comes through the static, and then she hears your voice.

I love you, Natasha

A thud follows soon after before the voicemail goes silent and ends.

Painful fear grips Natasha’s heart as she pulls the phone in front of her, desperately scanning the screen for any additional messages from you. Finding nothing, she immediately presses the call button.

“Come on,” Natasha whispers urgently to herself. “Pick up, Y/n. Please pick up.”

The phone seems to ring endlessly before eventually going to voicemail.

Natasha presses the call button again.

And again.

Time passes in a blur.

Eventually, her door opens, and without looking up from her crouched position on the ground, Natasha knows who it is.

She keeps the phone clutched tightly in her hand, pressed against the top of her head defeatedly. Its screen displays the numerous failed call attempts to you.

“We need to get them back,” Natasha states determinedly, looking up, her eyes still glistening with tears. “Whatever it takes.”

“We will,” Steve promises.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2023

You let out a surprise gasp as you watch the surroundings change around you.

Your salon is now empty of its products and supplies, and the chairs and counters are covered with sheets, protecting them from the layer of dust accumulating on top.

It looked as if nobody had been in here for some time.

Remembering what you were doing earlier, you brush off the disorienting condition of the room and search around, trying to find the burner phone to contact Natasha, but you find that you don’t see it anywhere.

Confused, you wonder if you may have left it at home. Stepping out of the shop, you are met with people on the streets and sidewalk, some with surprised exclamations and others with confused expressions like yours.

Eventually, you find out what actually happened.

The blip.

The five years lost.

The death of Tony Stark.

And of Natasha

That’s the only news you heard about her since your return.

With the Compound gone and no way to contact any of the other Avengers, you know as much as any other ordinary civilian.

Despite it all, this feeling of not knowing is not new to you.

After all, Natasha had done the same thing when you were younger, disappearing without a trace. And against all odds, you had the chance to see her again.

Who's to say this time is any different?

So, you wait.

You try to return to your usual routine of life from before and you wait, holding onto the hope that the people who truly mean something to you will return.

One evening, as you’re going to take out the trash, you open your door and pause in surprise when you see a familiar red-haired girl standing there.

Her hands are clasped in front of her, fidgeting slightly with nervousness, and her expression carries the same apprehension as when you first met her, though now her eyes appear more haunted and wounded than before.

“Am I still welcome here?” Wanda asks hesitantly.

You invite her inside with a warm smile, offering her a safe refuge in your home.

You’ve heard about the rumors and gossip of the events surrounding Westview and what supposedly happened there.

However, you’re not one to judge or speak about things you don’t fully understand, so you don’t bring it up in any of your conversations with her.

Over time, Wanda tells you about the final battle.

About the things she learned from the others during the missing years.

About Natasha’s sacrifice.

The knowledge of what happened fills you with sadness, yet you still cling to the hope in your heart.

When Wanda decides to leave one day, you give her the location of a cabin in a remote area that belonged to one of Natasha’s secret stashes of safe houses.

You’re sure if Natasha was here, she would’ve wanted to provide Wanda with someplace safe.

Some time after, one morning, as you approach your shop, you spot a blonde-haired girl peeking through the window, examining the building curiously.

Her face looks familiar, and you try to recall where you remember her from before your eyes widen slightly in realization.

“Yelena?”

She turns around at your call, scrutinizing you critically, before relaxing her tense posture.

“Now I understand why Natasha spent all of her time in this area.”

You invite her inside, and the two of you bond over your shared memories of Natasha.

Though Yelena was young when she lived undercover as your neighbor, she tells you that she remembers you and your friendship with Natasha.

Of how happier Natasha became after you entered her life.

In return, you share with Yelena about all the things Natasha told you about her and about how much she loves her little sister. You tell her how Natasha’s blue hair when she was younger was supposed to be blonde because Natasha wanted to match with Yelena’s, and how she chose to go blonde after their reunion.

After reminiscing about the woman you both love, Yelena tells you about the tombstone dedicated to Natasha at the cemetery near your old home, surrounded by flowers, gifts, and messages from everyone who loved and valued her.

Your heart both breaks and warms at the thought.

That information should have been enough for anyone to give up and find peace with Natasha’s fate.

But you can’t.

Natasha had promised you that she would return, and you had promised to be here when she did.

So, you wait and you hope.

A year passes by in a blur, and you’ve somewhat returned to the simple life you had before.

Things in the world also return to normal with the exceptions of the usual news alerts of aliens, alternate dimensions, time travel, and magic. Hearing all of that, anyone would believe that anything is possible in this universe.

It was one late evening when the bell above the door chimes lightly.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” you say, without looking up.

A sharp intake of breath echoes in the room, followed by a pause before a voice asks, “Even for me?”

You drop everything in your hand, freezing at the familiar voice.

Turning slowly, your eyes fall upon her face, a small smile gracing her lips. Her hair is longer now with the return of her signature red color and a hint of blonde at the ends.

A shaky exhale escapes from her as Natasha looks at you too with a fond gaze, as if also trying to memorize every feature of your face. She swallows hard and greets.

“Hey, Y/n.”

“Hey,” you reply instinctively in a breathless whisper, moving slowly closer as tears form at the corners of your eyes.

Stopping in front of her, you reach up slowly to touch her face, still in disbelief at the sight of her, but you pause in your action, searching her eyes.

For you, it’s been over a year since you last touched her, but you know it must’ve been much longer for her.

Natasha nods, giving you the reassurance you need.

One of your hands gently cradles her cheek, and she leans into your touch, her eyes closing as a peaceful expression forms on her face and she releases a soft breath of relief.

Your other hand moves to her hair, your fingers gliding through the strands with a sad smile, and you take a deep breath to choke back the tears threatening to spill.

“Your hair’s two different colors,” you comment lightly.

Natasha lets out a sad chuckle at your words and opens her eyes to meet yours, giving you a tiny teasing smile.

“Well, you said you had a soft spot for redheads. I figured you’d like me better if you saw me like this when you return.”

You can’t help but laugh softly in disbelief as you bury yourself into her, unable to hold back the sobs anymore at the fact that she’s here.

Natasha wraps her arms around you tightly, her head tucked close against you. She presses a soft kiss against your head and whispers, “I’m sorry it took so long.”

You shake your head at her apology, replying firmly, “You came back. That’s all that matters.”

Her arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if afraid to let go.

“I’d do anything to see you again.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading! Initially, I didn't have a part 2 for this, but you all liked the first part, so I wanted to give them a happier ending.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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broodybuck · 9 days

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Title: Through Your Window

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, masturbation, horny Bucky Barnes, stalker Bucky Barnes, pining, couch sex, Inspired by You (TV 2018)

Summary: Bucky finds a new muse from his window and it's you. He's captivated from the first moment he sees you but can't imagine he could ever have you.

[ao3 link]

He tries not to stare but he's been trained to observe. To hide in the shadows and watch. He's partially hidden behind the curtain of his window but he should conceal himself fully if he wants to keep his eyes on you.

You're not looking, you're distracted, treading around the apartment while collecting items here and there. You are across the alleyway in the building opposite his. It feels like a cruel gift. You're right in his view, he doesn't even need to strain to see you. He merely needs to walk to his window and watch.

Today, you're cleaning clutter from your living room. To put these items away means that you're bending down, arching at your hips, reaching over your head. It's allowing him to see every curve on you, especially with the sheer blouse and tight jeans you're wearing.

Why would you wear that, Bucky wonders. To entice him... that shirt is so sheer, he can see your bra. It's light pink and lacy. He licks his lips staring at it. His skin burns. He can't move. He's frozen, fixated on you until you walk out of his line of sight away from the windows. He sighs quietly to himself.

This is unfair, he decides. He hasn't looked at a woman since he's gotten free. Now, he found you. Your apartment is perfectly visible from his kitchen window. You, who leaves your blinds open at all hours of the day and walks around with those hips, those breasts.

He's hard. He's avoided getting turned on until now. A loud crash breaks Bucky from his trance. He looks down to realize he broke the coffee mug in his hand, causing half of the cup to smash onto the floor.

Fuck it, he needs to jerk off.

Putting his hand on himself feels like an ocean of relief but a wave of immense shame washes over him too. Because he hasn't retreated to the bedroom, he's pressing himself into the wall of his kitchen to keep the window still in view. So he can still see you as you walk back into the living room.

God, you're beautiful. He wants to touch you. He wants so many things he's not allowed. And yet, he's furiously jerking off to the thought of it all. Watching your every move, pumping himself harder and harder.

He's deplorable. He shouldn't be doing this. But it feels like he can't breathe until he's done. Splattering the wall in his release, breathing raggedly, forehead pressing against the window frame.

At least, you'll never know.

After careful consideration, Bucky decides that fantasies are okay. They are harmless and hence, why he's allowing himself to watch you across the way and touch himself whenever he needs to. Which is a lot, by the way, probably too much. But it's not hurting anyone.

After a week, Bucky has learned many things about you. How you like your coffee, your favorite food. You don't have many friends over, you don't go out often. You work at home from your laptop. Thankfully, at a desk placed in your living room where Bucky has a perfect view of you. He loves your little face of concentration. Sometimes, you bite your lip and as cute as it is, it makes him so hard he has to get off every time you do it.

He's counted the floors and windows and figured out which apartment you live in. He knows it sounds creepy, but he's not planning to break in. He just wanted to learn your name. He learns it when he sneaks into your building and finds your mailbox downstairs. Then, looks you up with a quick Google search. Now he can scream y/n every time he comes.

That's all he wanted, a little more for his fantasies. For his little treat every day. He doesn't have much else except therapy and working at the bodega down the street. So, he's letting himself have this. He's letting himself have you.

Except, he can't just stop at your name. He wants to learn everything about you. He wants his fantasies to feel real. So he goes through your mail. He finds your credit card bill and takes pictures before perfectly sealing the envelopes back up and returning them to your mailbox.

He now knows what stores you shop at, what restaurants you eat at, the bookstore you occasionally frequent. And he begins going to all these places too. On his own, of course. He likes just knowing you were there, wondering what you picked off the menu or which book you chose.

Unfortunately, this is precisely what leads to him accidentally running into you. Literally. He turns around with his coffee to-go cup and bangs into you, spilling his coffee all over one of your too-thin blouses.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Bucky jumps for napkins.

His impulse is to help clean the spill himself but it's all over your chest, more specifically your breasts. His hands stop mid-motion, reaching the napkins toward you.

You accept the napkins shyly.

"It's okay," you tell him as you start dabbing your wet shirt.

Since the coffee soaked through your shirt, Bucky can see too much of the outline of your breasts. He averts his gaze. When you look back up at him, he eventually meets your eyes again. Now he can see the distinct specks of color in your eyes.

"I feel terrible. Can I get you a new shirt?" Bucky offers.

You pause, your mouth quirking into a smile.

"A new shirt?"

"Please, I'll pay for a new one or something," Bucky urges.

"How about you just buy me a coffee and we'll be even," you suggest.

"Of course."

He thinks he's safe. He survived the coffee incident and left shortly after buying you a drink. He thought it was done. Then he ran into you again.

It really shouldn't come as a surprise since he's frequenting all your favorite places. But this one is all his fault because he went back to your building and you caught him in the mailroom. Luckily, he was empty-handed but you still recognized him.

"Hey, aren't you coffee-spilling-guy?" you smirk.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry again... about that."

"I'm just teasing. I didn't know you lived here."

He shifts uncomfortably.

"I was actually visiting a friend," he lies.

"Oh, and getting their mail?"

He winces, you're too smart for him to trick, and already being this close to you again is doing bad things to him. Now that you're not covered in coffee, there's nothing masking the smell of your perfume. It's floral and too sweet. He wants to lick your neck.

When he doesn't answer, you fill in the silence.

"It's none of my business. I'm y/n by the way, I don't think we exchanged names."

You put out your hand and he looks oddly terrified of your palm but he manages to shake your hand briefly before informing you his name is "Bucky".

"Well, maybe I'll see you around, Bucky."

"Yeah, maybe."

You smile at him and he gives you half of one back. Then he nods, shuffling out of the mailroom and out the front door.

He needs to stop going out, Bucky decides. He can't risk running into you. He's already encountered two close calls — both too close for his liking.

The window is safe, so the window is where he'll stay. He's standing a few feet back watching you work today. He's already been here an hour.

You lean back in your chair and stretch your arms then you head into the kitchen and come back with a cup of water. You walk it over to the window sill and pour some water into a plant sitting on the ledge.

Then, you pause and slowly your eyes lift up. You look right through the window at Bucky watching you.

Bucky can't breathe in a terrible way. It's far too late to duck but he does so anyway.

He's been caught. Now he can never watch you again.

The worst thing happens two days later. Bucky is only outside because of his weekly therapy appointment. He's walking home, avoiding all your favorite spots, but you still manage to run into him.

This time from across the street. You see him first and it takes a second for him to notice you and then stop dead in his tracks, looking afraid to move.

You hurry over to him and he looks so tense, you're nervous to get too close.

"Hey, funny running into you again."

"I live over there," he points defensively.

"I know," you smile. "I saw you."

"I wasn't trying to stare, I..."

"I'm not mad. You were just looking out your window. It's not like that's a crime," you laugh. "You know, if you weren't so attractive, I'd probably be more freaked out."

Bucky visibly gulps. "You think I'm attractive?"

"Yeah," you shrug. "Hoping the feeling is mutual."

His eyes go wide, your face blushes in response.

"Sorry, that was too forward," you apologize.

"The feeling is very mutual," he responds low. It sends a vibration down your spine.

"You know, we keep running into each other. Maybe the universe wants us to have coffee together. I have some up at my place."

"Oh," he hesitates.

"Maybe you could spill some on me," you tease.

He laughs, thankfully, getting the joke. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"I'd love a coffee," he says.

The coffee is a move. That should've been obvious but Bucky didn't realize how weak he'd be the second you made one. Because after you set the coffee cup down in front of him, you just lean over and kiss him.

Bucky's not sure how to describe the feeling of all his fantasies coming true. How many times had he imagined your lips, exactly what they'd feel like, taste like? They're perfect. Far better than he could dream.

He knew this wouldn't be good if he ever got this. Got you. He knew he'd lose all sense of control and he eagerly leans back in, kissing you more forcefully. You moan against his lips and that sends a shudder through him.

"Be honest," you draw back to say. "Were you watching me through the window?"

"Yes," he admits huskily. He waits expecting you to pull away but you lie down on the couch and pull him with you by the collar of his shirt.

"That doesn't scare you?" he asks, hovering over you.

You shake your head, dragging him down to your lips and kissing him again.

Bucky has one mind to tell you how long he's been watching you, fantasizing about you, dying to have you. But he knows that won't sound sane. Besides, you're currently rolling your hips up into his groin which is making his head spin.

He groans and lets his weight crush yours so your bodies fall flush. You immediately start grinding up into him which drives him crazy.

He hasn't done this in a while but his instincts take over and he moves with you, sucking at the skin on your neck while you moan and play with his hair. Your fingers feel like silk, lacing through his brown locks and down his neck. He shivers, kissing you.

Bucky reaches down and slips his hand under your skirt. He gasps when he feels how soaked your underwear is.

"Have you been thinking about me?" he growls, the thought alone makes him feral.

You nod as he pushes the fabric aside to tease you. You arch back, sucking in a sharp breath with a smile.

"I've seen you—" you pant. "Watching me— for weeks."

Bucky's eyes go wide. His hand pauses.

"And once," you continue, eyes locked with his. "I saw your eyes closed and your face — you were coming, I realized."

He swallows pulling his hand back but you grab his wrist, keeping him there.

"You were getting off. I couldn't believe the hot guy watching me was that turned on just from looking at me. You couldn't even control yourself."

Bucky closes his eyes. "I have no restraint with you."

"Good," you grin and reach for the belt of his pants, unbuckling the strap, then pulling the fly open.

When you grab his cock, he groans loud. He's so hard in your hand, you lick your lips hungrily. You tug him forward and he moves in between your legs, taking hold of himself so you let go.

Then he pushes inside of you in one, easy glide. He stops, breathing heavily over you with his eyes closed. You frame his face.

"Wanna see you make that face again," you purr.

"Fuck, y/n," he rasps.

He rocks his hips into you and ramps up to an earnest pace.

"Oh fuck," you whine, grabbing onto him tighter. He buries his face in your neck, turning to speak roughly in your ear.

"When you come, I'm not gonna forget your face. It'll be all I dream about now."

"How're you so sure I'll come," you try to dare but you're already getting way too close with the way he's ramming into you.

He slows his pace and sits back to glare at you. You bite your lip as he hooks your thighs and pulls you closer, forcing himself deeper inside you.

He doesn't say anything just spreads your thighs apart, pressing them down into the cushions, and fucks you harder than before. His one hand finds your clit and he starts making circles with his thumb.

Your eyes roll back. There's no doubt you're gonna come. You moan out, gripping the armrest behind you.

"Bucky, please," you pant.

He presses forward, cradles your body to turn you both on your sides, and holds you against his chest now. Your thighs are hiked up as high as they can go. The new angle makes you cry out with every new thrust and he's somehow gaining more fervor, fucking you even harder until your thighs start trembling.

He doesn't stop until your orgasm crashes over you like hot lava, melting you from the inside and pouring over every inch of you. You scream into his chest while he keeps fucking you through it.

You're gasping, trying to breathe through the rapture while feeling how sensitive you are around his cock still slamming into you.

You're slurring something, but you're not even sure if you're telling him to stop or keep going. Your eyes roll back again, every inch of you won't stop vibrating, and you're not sure how much more you can take.

Then he slams into you hard and stops abruptly, fully buried inside you. The groan he makes sounds almost painful. His eyes are squeezed shut again, you recognize the expression he makes. You flush hot as you watch him come.

You both sit in the sounds of your labored breathing. You're still wrapped around him, he's still inside you.

"It was better up close," you whisper cheekily, carding a few fingers through his hair.

He sucks in a breath and looks at you with so much intensity that your hand freezes in his hair, you're scared to speak.

"I'd watch you make that face every day if you'd let me."

"You just wanna watch?" you grin.

He shakes his head, then pauses to reconsider it, then shakes his head again.

"Whatever you want," he says.

"That could be hot to roleplay it."

"Roleplay... what?"

"Our story," you smirk. "I'll get myself off while you stand against the window, watching me."

He breathes in shakily, already too turned on by the idea.

"You have no idea how bad you are for me," he gravels.

"Bad for you?" you laugh.

"I have no control around you."

"Good," you tell him, brushing his hair back. "I don't want you to."

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky/reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader smut

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ytmanzwhore · 1 month

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Chase It - 1

summary: in which nellie harding gets pulled back into the world of storm chasing, and butts heads with the tornado wrangler himself

warnings: none so far :)

an: hey peeps- this story is being cross posted on my wattpad account (forbesfever) so if you want to check it out there, that is likely where updates will go first!

read chapter two // three

then

"Wakey, wakey," a cooing voice whispered in Nellie's ear where she sat curled up in the front seat of Jeb's SUV. The red head groaned as she began to slowly stretch her legs, peeking her eyes open to see Addy's bright smile hovering over her. "It's time to get going bud."

"It's so early," Nellie whined as everyone began to move around, Javi of course still snoring on the ground till Addy blared the horn at him. The six of them had a pretty solid routine at this point, so it took them only a few mintues to get back to full functioning capacity.

"Hey!" Nellie shouted at Addy sharply as the blonde banged on the metal cylinder in front of her, ignoring Jed's camera turning to her. "Addy how many times to I need to tell you, do not hit that device or I swear to-"

"That's our Nellie," Kate laughed at the camera as the redhead continued to berate Addy. "Nellie is our resident health care professional with us in case of emergency, but also the reason we have Dorothy here with us."

Nellie, Kate and Javi had met by chance at Muskogee State. There was no real reason for two kids in the Meteorology department and a girl in the nursing school to interact, unless you factored in Nellie's last name. Muskogee State College in 2005 had been the lucky recipient of a donation from Dr. Jo and Bill Harding, of the last used Dorothy prototype. At that point, Jo and Bill had retired from chasing and consulted and taught across the country.

In 2018, their niece had chosen to attend their alma mater. In the past, the Harding's had gladly allowed different departments to take Dorothy out in the field, after giving them stern warnings and usually making them pass some tests. But when Nellie was stationed there, she became their new point girl. So when Kate's proposal came across their desk, they asked Nellie to be Dorothy's custodian as the girl did her field research with her team. And so formed the odd but strong bond between Kate, Javi and Nellie, and an all around a passion for storms.

"Nellie might not be studying with us," Javi moved in extremely close to the camera. "But she's probably chased more storms in her life already, then the rest of us ever will."

And Javi wasn't wrong, because Nellie? While her little brother was attending play time with the kids from the farm down the road (because their parents were too busy to parent), Nellie was sitting in the backseat of Jo's beat up truck, hearing Dusty scream down the radio and watching vortex after vortex leave paths of destruction. Nellie's childhood was split between that backseat, school, and cuddling on the couch at Aunt Meg's house while waiting for their parents to finally check back in on their kids.

So here Nellie was, berating Addy as she hit a legendary piece of equipment. "I told you I can handle Dorothy," Nellie huffed as she walked over and pet the cylinder. "She's just a temperamental bitch."

"Like you," Javi giggled, giving a innocent smile as Nellie whipped her head around to glare at him.

"I got her," Nellie nodded as she looked at the control panel, and poked at the release button gently, holding it down for a few seconds before pulling back and pressing again. Dorothy as if knowing who was asking something of her, opened up easily. "There's a method here, and-"

"Ok we know you're the Dorothy whisperer," Praveen laughed as he walked over with his laptop. "The only reason you're here."

"Whoa, whoa," Kate interjected, walking up to wrap an arm around Nellie's shoulder. "That's not true!"

"Thank you," Nellie nodded with a grin.

"She makes a great instant coffee too," Kate giggled as Nellie gasped. "Alright guys, lets get going."

And with that, their little group made some last minute checks before loading up the cars and hitting the road. They were driving through the farmlands of Oklahoma, both Kate and Nellie looking around and thinking of home. Nellie was watching the radar with Praveen while Kate took a last minute call from her mama.

"There's barbecue waiting for us at home," Kate grinned as she hung up the phone and everyone in the cars cheered. As the group drove towards the storm Kate had been eyeing, they could all feel the conditions begin to build. The wind began to whip, and Nellie cracked the window and took a deep breath, feeling the energy building around them.

While Nellie might not have a want to follow the academic side of storm chasing, what she did have was the instinct. Like Kate and her aunt and uncle, she could understand a storm like not many could. She loved the thrill of the chase, but what her heart called for, was to help people in the aftermath. Which is why she had chosen to pursue nursing instead of meteorology.

"It's time," Nellie said quietly as Kate also called for Jeb to stop so they could finalize the solution in the barrels. With that, Javi set up in his van to track data, while the other five loaded back into Jeb's SUV to get into position.

Nellie's chest began to ache as they drove and the hail began. "Something's not right," Nellie said as Kate began to peer out the windows. The two of them realized at the same time that the tornado was behind them. Everyone's heart began racing, especially as Jeb in an effort to avoid some debri, ended up in a ditch. They took that chance to hop out, save the overturned barrels, and drop the trailer in the tornadoes path.

The car moved further and further away from the vortex, feeling elated as Javi announced Dorothy's sensors had gotten swept up into the atmosphere. Kate's face was stone as she watched behind them, and noticed the compound wasn't active. Javi's voice tapered out as Nellie's arm hair stood tall.

"The velocity is 200 miles an hour," Praveen said quietly as Addy tried to hail Javi. Everyone's stomachs dropped as the realization hit them all, that an EF5 was quickly gaining on their position.

Jeb tried his best to drive them out, but the car couldn't handle the roads. Once again they ended up off the road. "This car's gonna fly," Jeb said to everyone, and Nellie needed no more influence to throw her door open and grab Addy's arm.

"Let's go," she screamed as they booked it to the overpass ahead of them. Kate and Nellie made their way up the slick incline, Nellie freezing as she watched Kate's leg get sliced by a piece of metal. "You're ok," she yelled as she pushed Kate's butt until Jeb grabbed her arm. The red head turned around, spotting Addy lying prone on the incline.

"Addy come on," Nellie shouted, leaning down to where the girls hand was outstretched. "Take my hand-"

And she could only watch as Addy's body got too high, and the girl's body was swept away by a flying piece of wood. "Oh no," Nellie's breath came quickly. "Okay Nellie," she talked to herself as she turned around and finished climbing to where Kate was being held under Jeb's bulk.

"Come on," Kate yelled, reaching for Nellie. The girl was silent and cold as she moved behind Jeb, bracing her feet against the concrete pillar and wrapping her body around the metal pipings. She closed her eyes, listening to the whistle as it built, hearing Kate's screams as she felt another one of her friends get swept into the vortex.

"Nell," Kate whispered as the silence hit. "Nellie."

Hours later, the two girls were found on the side of the road by a kind police officer, who hid his horror at the blank stares and bloodied bodies walking towards him.

now

Nellie's body jerked awake as her alarm went off, pulling her out of another dream about dark storms and the sound of a train approaching. She sighed as she pulled herself out of bed, opening her black out curtains and seeing the afternoon sunshine outside of her little apartment. The girl went about her usual routine, pulling on some leggings and a long sleeve before lacing up her tennis shoes and heading out for a run.

From there, it was time to shower, down some coffee and food, before throwing on her scrubs to head out for her 12 hour shift at a regional hospital in Oklahoma as a Senior Shift Nurse. She went through the motions that day as she did many days when her night was plagued with nightmares. But no matter what, she gave her best patient care, knowing she might be serving people on the worst day of their lives (or just for a paper cut).

At 7 am, the girl made her way back to her apartment, looking at her phone and seeing a missed call from Javi. Knowing the boy's habits had changed drastically, she gave him a call as she started her car.

"Good morning sunshine," Javi said into the reciever as he picked up her car. "You on your way home?"

"That I am," she nodded.

"Long night?"

"Always," she sighed with a tired smile. "But feeling good."

"Good good," Javi said with his own sigh.

"How was Kate?" the girl probed. And with that, the red head listened as her friend spoke to her about his meeting with Kate in New York, and his failure to convince her to come to Oklahoma. Nellie finished her drive home, choosing not to interrupt the boy to tell him she'd already heard most of this from Kate the night before on her way to work.

"Do you think you can talk to her?" Javi asked desperately. "Try to get her to just give this a chance?"

"Javi," Nel sighed. "I have talked to her. And she's terrified honestly to chase again, to get that close to another storm like," and she didn't have to finish her sentence for the man to understand.

"I know," he sighed. "There's just so much going on. So much I wish I could do. And I wish I had her skills or your skills, but I don't."

"Javi you need to believe in yourself," Nellie scolded. "You are great at what you do. And you're great at helping people. You just need to find another way. Kate is not the only way you can get this to work, you just need to think outside the box. But hey, let me call you later ok? I just got home and I need to get some sleep."

The two friends said their goodbyes, before Nellie headed inside and readied herself for her post shift nap. After another shift, two of three before Nellie was off, the redhead was sleeping once more when her eyes popped open in anger as she heard banging at her front door. The redhead cursed as she stomped her way to her front door, not even checking the peep hole before swinging it open. "What?" She growled, her mouth opening before she processed the two faces in front of her.

"Hi Nellie," Kate waved nervously as she bounced on her toes. "Missed you!"

"What the hell!" Nellie gasped as she leaned in to hug her friend, looking at Javi in confusion over her shoulder. "How did Javi convince you to come out here?"

"Well here's the thing," Javi laughed uneasily as the girls pulled apart. "She said she'd give me a week, but only if we dragged you along with us."

"What?!"

#tyler owens imagine #tyler owens #imagine #tyler owens x reader #twisters #twisters imagine #twisters 2024 #kate carter #twisters movie #glen powell #twisters fanfic #Tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens fanfiction #twisters x reader #twisters fanfiction

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sunny-day-jack-official · 1 year

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URGENT! Stop KOSA!

Hey all, this is BáiYù and Sauce here with something that isn't necessarily SnaccPop related, but it's important nonetheless. For those of you who follow US politics, The Kids Online Safety Act passed the Senate yesterday and is moving forward.

This is bad news for everyone on the internet, even outside of the USA.

What is KOSA?

While it's officially known as "The Kids Online Safety Act," KOSA is an internet censorship masquerading as another "protect the children" bill, much in the same way SESTA/FOSTA claimed that it would stop illegal sex trafficking but instead hurt sex workers and their safety. KOSA was originally introduced by Sen. Edward Markey, D-Mass. and Bill Cassidy, R-La. as a way to update the 1998 Children’s Online Privacy Act, raising the age of consent for data collection to 16 among other things. You can read the original press release of KOSA here, while you can read the full updated text of the bill on the official USA Congress website.

You can read the following articles about KOSA here:

EFF: The Kids Online Safety Act is Still A Huge Danger to Our Rights Online

CyberScoop: Children’s online safety bills clear Senate hurdle despite strong civil liberties pushback

TeenVogue: The Kids Online Safety Act Would Harm LGBTQ+ Youth, Restrict Access to Information and Community

The quick TL;DR:

KOSA authorizes an individual state attorneys general to decide what might harm minors

Websites will likely preemptively remove and ban content to avoid upsetting state attorneys generals (this will likely be topics such as abortion, queerness, feminism, sexual content, and others)

In order for a platform to know which users are minors, they'll require a more invasive age and personal data verification method

Parents will be granted more surveillance tools to see what their children are doing on the web

KOSA is supported by Christofascists and those seeking to harm the LGBTQ+ community

If a website holding personally identifying information and government documents is hacked, that's a major cybersecurity breach waiting to happen

What Does This Mean?

You don't have to look far to see or hear about the violence being done to the neurodivergent and LGBTQ+ communities worldwide, who are oftentimes one and the same. Social media sites censoring discussion of these topics would stand to do even further harm to folks who lack access to local resources to understand themselves and the hardships they face; in addition, the fact that websites would likely store personally identifying information and government documents means the death of any notion of privacy.

Sex workers and those living in certain countries already are at risk of losing their ways of life, living in a reality where their online activities are closely surveilled; if KOSA officially becomes law, this will become a reality for many more people and endanger those at the fringes of society even worse than it already is.

Why This Matters Outside of The USA

I previously mentioned SESTA/FOSTA, which passed and became US law in 2018. This bill enabled many of the anti-adult content attitudes that many popular websites are taking these days as well as the tightening of restrictions laid down by payment processors. Companies and sites hosted in the USA have to follow US laws even if they're accessible worldwide, meaning that folks overseas suffer as well.

What Can You Do?

If you're a US citizen, contact your Senators and tell them that you oppose KOSA. This can be as an email, letter, or phone call that you make to your state Senator.

For resources on how to do so, view the following links:

https://www.badinternetbills.com/#kosa

https://www.stopkosa.com/

https://linktr.ee/stopkosa

If you live outside of the US or cannot vote, the best thing you can do is sign the petition at the Stop KOSA website, alert your US friends about what's happening, and raise some noise.

Above all else, don’t panic. By staying informed by what’s going on, you can prepare for the legal battles ahead.

#stop KOSA #KOSA #censorship #us law #somethings wrong with sunny day jack #the groom of gallagher mansion #dachabo

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hungwy · 1 year

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In a press release, the FTC said that "Ring deceived its customers by failing to restrict employees' and contractors' access to its customers' videos, using customer videos to train algorithms, among other purposes, without consent, and failing to implement security safeguards." In one case, an employee "viewed thousands of video recordings belonging to female users of Ring cameras that surveilled intimate spaces in their homes such as their bathrooms or bedrooms," the FTC said.

That allegedly occurred between June and August 2017 and invaded the privacy of at least 81 female users of Ring products. "The employee wasn't stopped until another employee discovered the misconduct. Even after Ring imposed restrictions on who could access customers' videos, the company wasn't able to determine how many other employees inappropriately accessed private videos because Ring failed to implement basic measures to monitor and detect employees' video access," the FTC said.

...

Amazon completed its purchase of Ring in April 2018. The FTC complaint says that in August 2020, "a whistleblower notified Ring that between March 2018 and September 2019, a former employee had provided Ring devices to numerous individuals and then accessed their videos without their knowledge or consent."

The complaint continued: When the employee left Ring in September 2019, the whistleblower alleged that he took copies of these videos with him—without the knowledge or consent of his unsuspecting victims and without Ring noticing that anything was amiss. In February 2019, Ring changed its access practices so that most Ring employees or contractors could only access a customer's private video with that customer's consent.

"Importantly, because Ring failed to implement basic measures to monitor and detect inappropriate access before February 2019, Ring has no idea how many instances of inappropriate access to customers' sensitive video data actually occurred," the FTC said. "Indeed, Ring only discovered the incidents described above through the good fortune of employee reporting, despite having given employees zero security training and no responsibility to engage in such reporting. It is highly likely that numerous other incidents of spying, prurient behavior, and other inappropriate access occurred entirely undetected."

(emphasis is mine)

#just in case you want some ammo for whenever your parents or whoever get one of these things

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delfiore · 1 year

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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (3/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: without ona, you find other ways to fill the hole in your heart, as the consequences of your own actions come back to haunt you.

word count: 7.0k

a/n: holy shit is this one long. some more cameos for the plot who are all good bros to our dumbasses in love 👍

PART I, PART II, PART IV, PART V

2018, 5 years ago.

You always hated it when your hands shake after adrenaline rushes. It felt debilitating, like you weren’t able to make rational decisions because all you could think about was trying to hide your trembling hands.

When your coach called you into his office, you were still cradling your right hand, the other pressing an ice pack to the bruise starting to form on your right knuckles. The way he pointed with his head for you to follow him—doing so without a word—reaffirmed that you were definitely in trouble.

It was a warm day in May, and yet you had two training sessions to complete. You were drenched in sweat afterwards, your body warm and buzzing like a furnace. Definitely not a good day to be pissed off.

Coach Dennis sat in his chair behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him. His lips were curling and jutting out like they always did whenever he was concentrating or trying to look angry. It made him look like a fish.

A silence followed, and then he spoke. “Are you aware of what you did?”

You clenched your jaw to stop yourself from blurting out something sarcastic. “I punched a teammate, Coach.”

“You’re aware that that could get you released, don’t you, Y/N?” He asked. “NYCFC has zero tolerance for violence within the first team, much less the youth academy.”

You lowered your head. Your hands were shaking much less now.

“May I ask why you did it?” Coach pressed further when he didn’t receive an answer.

So you told him. There was a group of girls that had been picking on you for years now. You were never the biggest or strongest, so you used your techniques to weave the ball through defenders, to make you stand out, and it pissed them off.

“So you punched one of them.”

“They were cornering me.” You said simply, looking up at him for the first time since the meeting started.

The man sighed and covered his nose and mouth with his palms. You might have reduced his lifespan by a decade right then.

“Y/N, I know you. I know you will stand up for yourself, and I expect nothing less from you, but this kind of behavior will not and cannot fly here. That’s why I’m telling you this, because I know you’ll be special one day.”

“Those girls are bullies, Coach. They don’t deserve to be here. You should be punishing them!”

“They will get their punishment in due time, but you still punched a teammate,” he said firmly. “You did what you thought was right, but violence is never the answer. You can’t punch your way out of everything.”

“Are you kicking me out?” You asked, trying to remain stoic, yet you were fiddling with your fingers.

“No. I’m blocking your Dallas offer.”

FC Dallas had been one of the top scouts that have had their eyes on you, and you had been working extra hard to impress them. This was your chance to break into their first team, and it was gone.

“You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can.” He pressed.

“Coach, please—”

“Thank you, Y/N.” He cut you off. “You may leave.”

Leaving Dennis’ office, and walking down the hallway, your eyes caught Sara—the girl you punched—sitting in the infirmary, her face tear-stained, red, and blotchy. She had always looked at you with disdain, but now there was a fear in her gaze as she caught yours from far away. When she did, you got a better look at the damage you’d done to her face. You suddenly felt that shame you should have felt back in the office.

“Yo, Y/N,” you heard someone call when you were outside. “I heard about what happened.”

“You’re gonna lecture me, Gio? ‘Cause Dennis already did.”

“No, man. I was gonna say how badass that was,” he grinned.

A slow grin spread on your face. You shook your head, as Gio put his arm around your shoulder and you walked to the cafeteria.

You met Giovanni Reyna a few years ago when you first joined the academy. In a training session where both the boys and girls participated, you were paired with him for finishing drills. With a hard tackle, he’d almost put you in the hospital. Ever since then, you had been stuck to the hip. He was the first friend you made and the longest friend you’d ever had.

You’d stay another year at NYCFC, honing your skills, and avoiding another run-in with your bullies until the transfer window was near. You were still waiting for FC Dallas to call back, as you had for a year now. It was the only place you wanted, and while you knew it was risky to do so, it was your gateway to Europe through their partnership with Bayern Munich.

“Sara is going to the Red Stars, did you hear?”

“Dylan’s going to Orlando Pride.”

“I heard Hope and Mary-Anne are going to Roma and Lyon!”

You had tried to block out the gossip in the cafeteria, but it made you doubt yourself. What did they have that you didn’t? Yes, you weren’t the tallest or strongest, but neither were Messi, Xavi, or Aguëro. But maybe that was just it; you were not Messi, Xavi, or Aguëro, and you would never be.

Gio was leaving too, there had never been any doubt about that; his dad was a U.S. legend, and it was only natural that he’d give the best to his son. Besides, Gio might have been the next best thing after Christian Pulisic skyrocketed to fame within the past few years. The boy’s move to Borussia Dortmund was almost imminent, and people had been whispering about it for weeks, but you were the one he told first.

“When do you leave?” You asked, picking at the food on your tray. Gio and you were sitting outside having lunch.

“Beginning of June,” he said.

“I’m happy for you,” you muttered, voice cracking quietly, but a small smile remained on your face.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is a good thing,” you smiled, nodding as you grabbed his hand over the table. “I’ll just miss you a ton.”

“Hey,” Gio searched for your eyes. “I have no doubt that you’ll be scouted soon. I know it. I know you have what it takes to be at the top, whether it’s in Europe, or here.”

Your best friend left less than a month later. You had wrapped your arms around him so tightly and hid your face in his neck, afraid you might bawl like a baby the last time you saw him on the training ground. But you didn’t cry then.

You did cry, though, when Coach Dennis called you into his office again a week later. This time, instead of expressing his disappointment in you, he hugged you tight, congratulated you, and let you read the email that Portland Thorns FC sent to request a transfer for you to their first team.

2023, present.

“You ever thought about what you’d be doing if you weren’t playing football?”

You had just drifted off a bit when the voice next to you spoke. Furrowing your eyebrows, you wondered how she wasn’t absolutely battered.

“Don’t know. Never had a plan B. Didn’t want to.”

“Right. But I feel like, I go to training, I kick the ball, people come and watch me, and then when I go home after, I don’t know who I am. It’s like . . . I’m nothing without the footballer.”

You didn’t expect your hookup to be opening up to you like this. You’d only just met her a few hours ago at a club. You had played against her a few times in the league but had never spoken to her face-to-face. Though not the best on the dance floor, she made an excellent dance partner in bed.

“Well, having a personality is overrated nowadays anyway.” You replied, closing your eyes again. “Nobody cares who you are until you fuck up on the pitch, so just don’t fuck up on the pitch.”

“Easy for you to say,” she huffed. “You have your starter place at City guaranteed.”

You ignored her and turned to the other side. A few minutes later, you heard the sheets shuffling, then the sound of a zipper. “This was fun,” she whispered before you heard your bedroom door opening and closing.

No barks, it meant Bratwurst was asleep, luckily for your ears. Most people you had been bringing home he had been barking at. You wanted to think it was him being protective over you, but he would bark at your teammates too when they would come over, except for one person.

Ever since you came back from the World Cup much earlier than you had anticipated, you liked to find company at clubs and parties. In your time of need, you’d found that you preferred sporadic ones, fewer complications, and headaches.

You were also invited to events; award shows, the British Grand Prix, and a few fashion shows. Those you never really bothered with, but they were chances for your stylist to go crazy with the outfits (which you never complained).

The only good thing to come out of those, however, was seeing Gio again at Paris Fashion Week. The moment you saw him, you gladly accepted it when he brought you into a tight hug, feeling like that 13-year-old again when you first met. You kept in touch over the years, but your schedules were always too different to ever meet up. But it was as if no time had passed, and the only thing that kept you both from talking till morning was that Gio needed rest for his rehabilitation training the next day.

“I’m going on a trip to Ibiza soon with a few friends. You should come,” he said.

“I don’t know, G. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t. I want you to come. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Just because you have a girlfriend now doesn't mean you’re allowed to set me up,” you smirked and shoved him.

“I’ve seen the stuff that came out about you, Y/N,” he sighed. “Is it true?”

“I’m not doing anything illegal if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I meant. About you being seen at clubs day in and day out. What is this really about, Y/N?”

You know Gio wanted the best for you, even though sometimes he was too stubborn to admit it. You were too, but you loved him to bits. Maybe that’s why you two fit together so well.

“I let someone close to my heart, and it fucked me over.”

Gio nodded softly. “Well then. Just consider it a vacation. She’ll still be there though.”

“And you won’t make me go out with her?”

“As if I can make you do anything.”

Unless you were legally prohibited or physically unable to, you would never turn down a proper party. So there you were, on a yacht in Ibiza with your best friend and several other people in his entourage. Gio, that little shit, though having promised not to set you up, was elbowing you at a woman the moment she set foot on the yacht. Anyone with eyes would say that she was beautiful; curly hair, plump lips, and soulful eyes you could get lost in.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. It didn’t hurt to try.

You went over to the bar where she stood and ordered a drink. Glancing behind your shoulder, you noticed Gio sending you a big thumbs-up.

“So, you are the one Gio keeps raving on about,” said the woman next to you. Her eyes were really pretty.

“I guess so. That’s me,” you let out a laugh, albeit shakily. “Am I everything you dreamed of and more?”

It was her turn to laugh. “He definitely mentioned your confidence, yes.”

“Well, then I’ll definitely keep you around for sure. But just so you know, I do other things besides kick a football around and look pretty doing it.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself,” you smirked. “I’m Y/N,” you extended a hand.

“Leena,” she took your hand in a firm handshake and raised her drink to you.

You took a sip, and watched her behind the glass, only to notice that she was looking back at you as well. “So, how did you know Gio?”

“I worked with him on a couple of photoshoots. I’m a photographer,” leaning against the bar with her drink, she smiled and pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “He was really nervous, said he didn’t like getting his picture taken. Luckily, I used to work with kids and animals back home in Finland, so making a full-grown man laugh for his headshots wasn’t too hard.”

“You’re from Finland?”

“Mmhm. I go back and forth between London and Manchester now, though.”

“Interesting,” you nodded inconspicuously. “I play in Manchester. Nice city.”

Before you knew it, the sun had started to go down, and it was time to drive the yacht back to port. As you all made your way to the exit to disembark, you waited for Leena before offering your hand to help her down the ramp.

Your group was to head into town, and have some dinner before going to a local music festival to finish the night off. It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, and you wasted no time in immersing yourself in the music. Gio and the others were long forgotten, and you found yourself enjoying your time with Leena much more than you had anticipated.

You told her about your job, and she asked about the World Cup. As much as you hated to talk about it, having declined several interviews and podcast appearances in which mentions of the tournament were inevitable, you told her everything she wanted to know.

She was so attentive and listened, even though you knew she didn’t follow the sport, and for that you were thankful. It has been a while since you talked to someone about how you felt and have them listen so wholeheartedly.

“Do you ever miss home?” You asked once the both of you had taken a break from dancing.

“Sometimes, but right now my wanderlust is bigger than my homesickness. I want to see everything the world has to offer.”

You swirled your martini on the standing table. “I’ve been away from home for so long, I don’t really know where home is anymore.”

“Well, I think home is where you make it.” She lay a hand on your bare arm, caressing it slowly. “If you’ve already made a home at this age, what else is there to do?”

Your eyes trailed along her arm up to her face. Your heart slowed, and the music seemed to have faded in the background. Despite the chaos of the festival, several drunk people dancing next to you, and your friends have already disappeared somewhere, you suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss Leena.

But it wasn’t her that you wanted to kiss, not really. You wanted to kiss her because it reminded you of familiar feelings, to have someone in your corner that you didn’t have to pretend to. But of course that was all based on a lie.

As she reached into your martini to pick up the olive pick and held it out for you, you bit down gently on the fruit and let her pull the pick away. You smiled bashfully.

“I’ll go get us some more drinks,” you cleared your throat. “Do you want some fries too?”

You needed to get out of there before you did something you regret and ruin a good thing, again.

The bartender was off once you’d given him your order. Whilst waiting for the drinks, you looked around for familiar faces and spotted Gio and a couple of his friends “dancing” to the music in one corner, clearly quite inebriated.

“Y/N.”

You turned around and wished that you didn’t. It was Ona, looking at you like you were some sort of alien.

“Ona,” you breathed.

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with friends.” Now would be a good time for those drinks, bartender.

She nodded. “How are you?”

“Fine,” you said too quickly. “Congratulations by the way, on winning.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“You guys deserved it. No matter who’s trying to take it away from you, you did, and you should celebrate it,” you meant it and tried to force a smile that adequately expressed your sentiments. Needless to say, it would be easier to be saying this to one of her teammates, anyone but her.

You remembered the night she broke your heart, the night when you left your heart by the sidewalk as you trekked all the way home on foot.

That was three months ago, and with all the distractions you’ve indulged yourself in, somehow it still ached.

The bartender handed you your drinks just then, and you were off.

“Y/N, wait.” You closed your eyes. “I’m sorry . . . for what I said, how I said it.”

“No, I think you made your point very clear, Ona. Have a good rest of your trip.”

“Y/N, I did feel something too! I did!”

Ona felt like biting her tongue at the look you gave her when you turned around, the two glasses of Negronis dangling in your fingers by your side. She had almost regretted it when your lips trembled, and your chest rose and fell as if an implosion was imminent.

You took a large step towards her and exhaled. “You don’t get to do that. Not after I’ve tried to do everything to forget you. You can’t do that.”

Ona opened her mouth to say something, but she knew anything she said would only add to your fury.

“I hope you’re happy by the way.” You said mockingly. “Seeing that you got what you wanted. Winning the World Cup, moving back to Barcelona. Hope you’re happy. Bye, Ona.”

She watched unmovingly as you walked away from her, back to a table where a woman was waiting, and pulled her towards the crowd to dance. She found herself returning to her group, not being able to get the image of you swaying behind the woman with your arm around her neck out of her mind.

What kind of sick joke was the universe playing to make her see you right when she was supposed to be enjoying her days off? Maybe it was her punishment, having broken your heart then practically fleeing the country immediately after.

“Where’s the drink, Ona? You were supposed to get us some,” Lucy questioned her when she came back.

“Oh, sorry. I thought I saw someone.”

“Oi, is that Y/N? Y/N!”

“No, please don’t.” Ona grabbed Lucy’s arm, and quickly pulled it down.

Realizing Lucy didn’t know about it, she knew she was going to have to tell her one way or another. Surprisingly, Lucy didn’t laugh or tease her about it after hearing the entire story. They were back at their hotel, with another bottle of wine passed between them, and Ona told her new teammate everything.

“You were under our noses the whole time, and we didn’t even realize,” Lucy snickered with a shake of her head.

“Yeah,” the night had taken a toll on her, and Ona started to feel the effect of the alcohol as she lay staring at the ceiling. “Have I made a huge mistake? Letting myself be involved in all this.”

“Obviously, but the heart wants what it wants. Trust me,” the brunette took another sip from the bottle. “It is a hard situation, but she needs space, as much as you can give her so she can heal.”

“Sounds like you’ve been through it before,” Ona smirked and poked her with her elbows.

The older woman only laughed. “Something like that.”

As hard as it was to accept the truth, Ona had to move on. She didn’t have a lot of time to mope around, however, before she knew it, the season had already begun. Barcelona had always been a place to return to, and the team needed someone who had Barcelona in her DNA to complete the defense.

It was all going swimmingly, too much so even. The season started out slow, but they grabbed the wins when they needed them. Then it was time for the Champions League draw. Barcelona had been drawn into a group with RSC Anderlecht, AS Roma, and Manchester City.

Just her luck. She’d have to see you twice before the year ended. Barcelona would be going to Manchester first.

With her chance encounter with you in Ibiza still fresh on her mind, she joined the queue for warm-up, looking up every once in a while in case she spotted you. When she did, you were standing by the sideline talking animatedly to your other former teammate Keira. She tore her eyes away before you could notice her, and swallowed that uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Longing for your American girl?” Mapi said with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Ona mumbled, jogging away to do stretches. “I knew Lucy would blab.”

“So Lucy knows? I was just making an educated guess from the way you keep making those sad puppy eyes at her.”

“At who?” Ingrid appeared from behind.

“Y/L/N,” Mapi raised her eyebrows at her girlfriend with a smirk, and Ingrid gasped excitedly.

“Oh my god, Y/N Y/L/N?! You guys would be so cute together!”

“Guys, come on. We have a match to play,” Ona groaned and begrudgingly jogged away. Just before she started her sprints though, she snuck one last glance at you, when you briefly looked back. As if having been burnt just by a look, you quickly said goodbye to Keira and went back to your half to continue warming up.

“Do you think they were already together?” Ingrid whispered at Mapi.

Mapi sighed, “Definitely.”

Ona started that match on the left, as Lucy also started and occupied her usual right side. You were playing on the right this time to allow Lauren Hemp to be on the left wing. It meant there would be none of her usual duels with you.

Ever since Lucy’s slip-up in the World Cup final, Ona knew she had been more cautious in defense and stayed back most of the time. It gave her the opportunity to set up passes deeper whilst also keeping you at bay, the tactic Ona herself used at United and one she knew you absolutely despised.

Sure enough, you stupidly went up against only one of the best fullbacks in the world. Your dribbling and speed were to your advantage, and Lucy—with all her experience and knowledge of your play—easily controlled you at the flanks. So you tried inverting inside, and Lucy followed you too, if not Irene did.

Man City was pressing high, giving the offense plenty of opportunities in the box, but Barcelona was better in defense. It was only when a precise lofted ball was sent past the back line, that Lucy was trailing after you. You went down just outside of the box. As everyone was getting ready for the free kick, you were still on the ground. Your ankle had been stomped on by Irene during the struggle.

Ona quickly jogged over and put her hand over your shoulder, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Don’t put your hands on me,” you seethed, swatting her hand away, just as the physios came over and sprayed your ankle. Just moments later, you were able to stand up, but you never spared her another glance.

As much as it stung, she clenched her jaw to stop the tears and got ready for the free kick.

Barcelona ended up winning 2-0, a stellar start to their UWCL campaign. While Ona went to shake hands with several players from the opposition, she looked for you, seeing you walk towards the stands. You took pictures and signed for some people, even gave a little kid your shirt, but she saw the way you lit up when talking to someone in the crowd. Upon closer look, it was the woman you were with in Ibiza.

Your smile was blinding as Leena was led down the pitch towards you. “Hi,” you breathed. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Of course I did. You gave me tickets, remember?” She brought you in for a hug. “I’m sorry you lost, but it was very entertaining. I took lots of pictures.”

“Of me, I hope?” You smirked.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Keep dreaming, Y/L/N.”

Smiling slightly, you brought her in for a side hug. “Thank you for coming,” you kissed Leena’s cheek. “Means a lot.”

Ona was watching the entire interaction, fuming on the inside. Lucy and Mapi knew to steer clear of her path once they returned to the dressing room by the glower on her usually affable face.

SportsPro Media: Y/N Y/L/N Seen ‘Smiling’ After Man City Lost to Barcelona in Women’s Champions League Group Stage “Fans have taken to social media to criticize the winger, 21, after she was seen smiling and conversing with fans at the stands after a 2-0 loss to reigning champions Barcelona. The criticism came after several of Y/L/N’s teammates on the USWNT were also condemned for their overt optimism after barely making it out of their group in the Women’s World Cup this summer. Among the critics was former USWNT international Carli Lloyd. Y/L/N was also seen getting more than friendly with her rumored girlfriend, whom the winger was spotted on holiday with in Ibiza alongside U.S. men’s team’s Gio Reyna after a shockingly early World Cup exit. […]”

When the second round of the group stage came around, you were much better prepared. Though you were playing away in Barcelona, Man City were preparing to win. You were definitely training to do so, so when the starting XI lineup was posted on the door in the dressing room, you were stunned when your name wasn’t on the list. You had been benched before—it was all part of the game—but only during less important games or for your own recovery, but never during an important game like this.

“Gareth, can I speak to you, please?” You said, gritting your teeth when the gaffer opened the door in his office.

“Of course,” he gestured for you to follow inside. “Take a seat.”

You remained standing. “Why am I not starting for the Barcelona game?”

“I’m doing what I think will be best for the team, Y/N.”

“By benching me? You need me!”

“Easy, Y/L/N. No one is above the club, and I don’t appreciate your tone,” Gareth’s tone was despicably calm, yet no less menacing.

You took a deep breath to compose yourself. “I want to know why, in an important game such as this one.”

“It seems . . . that you might have a personal reason as to why you want to start this game, but I have to rotate the squad and—”

“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean? What personal reason?”

Gareth sighed. “I’ve been informed that you’ve had a personal relationship with one of Barcelona’s players that didn’t end too well.”

“So? What does that have to do with anything?” You all but yelled.

“I’m making a decision that I deem best for the club, and you and every other player will listen because I am in charge!” Gareth had never yelled, not like this. It made you flinch. “I will not have my players’ private life bleed into the performance of the team. Now, you can either support my decision or I will have you removed from the squad traveling to Barcelona, and replace you with someone else who will put the team above their own interest.”

Your mouth is sewn shut, just by the sheer shock at what the manager had just said. You stormed out of his office without another word, slamming the door open to mask what you were truly feeling inside. It wasn’t fury—you were beyond that—it has turned into fear of being replaced; fear of being left behind.

Man City drew that match, and it was just enough to send the team to the quarterfinals, having done it entirely without you. Gareth had made up a bullshit excuse to the press to make you stay home.

Your agent, Toni, was much more furious for you, saying what he did breach the contract you signed and that you should be taking action. In the five years they have been your agent, you have never had to endure that much legal talk over a club issue before. You’d be amused at their passionate rambling if you weren’t already nursing a headache.

“I think you should leave, Y/N,” they finally said after getting off the phone.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But where would I even go? I don’t have any offers yet.”

“You will, once the news comes out that you’re looking to leave the club. You only have one year left on your contract anyway, plenty would seek to employ you.”

You had been through this before. The waiting after letting it be known that you wanted to leave was the worst, but you weren’t just a nobody anymore. You were Y/N Y/L/N, and you would have it your way one way or another.

“Alright, then.” You nodded firmly. “Let’s have a talk with Gareth. I’m not gonna scurry out of this club like a rat.”

Goal.com: Y/N Y/L/N Looking for Man City Exit After Tension With Boss Gareth Taylor “Sources within Man City are saying the American winger could be on her way out of Manchester this summer. The player has reportedly ‘fallen out of favor’ with City gaffer Gareth Taylor after ‘expressing her vexation over lack of playing time’. The 22-year-old was left out of the squad traveling to Barcelona for the 4th group stage match of the Women’s Champions League altogether and has since featured in significantly fewer matches for the Citizens. Several European clubs are reportedly keen to sign Y/L/N, but she could also be making a return to the NWSL for what could be a record signing in the women’s game yet. […]

Though you were scared, it was much easier to let go of a burden that you have been carrying around for so long.

Which was why you had agreed to come to a concert with Leena when she had asked you. You would let yourself have fun and connect with someone without being scared anymore because what Ona did to you had nothing with who you were, and you sure as hell weren’t going to pay the price for it.

Needless to say, you and Leena had a great time. You were been walking back to your car in the parking lot when you saw a flash. You sighed and walked Leena towards the passenger side.

“Get in the car. Don’t come out, okay?” You told her with a smile, which was quickly wiped off once you saw the photographers approaching.

“Y/N, are you leaving City? Where do you think you’re going next?”

“Did you have a fight with Gareth?”

“Y/N, are you going to Barcelona?”

You entered the car with an exasperated sigh. Your breathing became heavy as you attempted to start the car, and your hand started to tremble.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leena spoke softly. “Don’t let them get to you.”

She placed a hand over yours and squeezed it softly. Finding her eyes, you nodded gratefully, and drove away, trying your very best not to run those imbeciles over.

You went back to her apartment where you both ordered some takeout. Over a movie, you talked about anything and everything.

It was like that with Leena. Somehow, she has made you feel okay with pouring your entire heart out in front of her, her caring eyes and encouraging silence taking away your doubts about looking like an emotional fool in front of her.

But the moment you saw her eyes dart back and forth between yours, then down to your lips and leaned in, you froze. You wanted this, only because it would be good for you, but you couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry, Leena. I-I—” Jumping out of the couch, you stuttered like a broken record. Of course, she would have read it like that, you couldn’t blame her. You didn’t quite know what you wanted, but all you could think about was how different it was to kiss Leena than it was to kiss Ona.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t try to stop you. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all. She might as well have been just as shell-shocked as you were by your reaction. You bolted out of there as quickly as you can, like a coward.

Unsurprisingly, Leena hasn’t tried to contact you. You couldn’t blame her, you’d be pissed at yourself too. It seemed everyone was pissed at you these days.

Chloe approached you once in the weight room to ask if you were leaving. You could only offer her an apology, but she brought you in for a hug. You would miss her the most.

Meanwhile, Toni was working tirelessly on your next move, and all you could do was train and be the best footballer you could be while you waited. Even if Gareth didn’t deserve your effort, your teammates did, and you owed it to them to give it your all until the day you left the training ground for the last time.

There was only one destination you had in mind, but going there would mean having to confront your serial one-night stand that you were possibly in love with, who also didn’t share your feelings.

You couldn’t let that deter you from ascending the football hierarchy, though. You couldn’t, and you won’t. You would do it one way or another because it was where you deserved to be. You would show Gareth that he was wrong about you.

“I can’t believe you’re going to Lyon! That’s crazy, Y/N!” Gio said over the phone. He was the first person you told and was ecstatic when you did.

“They still haven’t sent anything official yet, but it’s looking like it, yeah.”

“Well, what happened to the Barcelona deal?”

“My agent was flipping out when I said no, but then this deal came two days later and now they’re flipping out again but for a good reason.”

“That’s awesome, dude! I’m happy for you!”

“I don’t know, I just—I feel like I’m not there yet or something. Lyon wants me, but they’re freakin’ Lyon!”

“Hey, I know all about imposter syndrome, alright? But you can’t let that keep you from playing at one of the best clubs in the world.”

“Don’t let Dortmund hear you say that,” you smirked.

“Eh, we know where we are. That’s why we sold Erling and Jude,” Gio spoke. “Point is, they want you. They clearly see how good of a player you are. So get your ass over to France and show them that!”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You’re right.”

“Alright, gotta go. But hey, let’s go for a drink next time you’re in town. Hopefully, by then, you’re a Lyon player.”

You ended the call and got up to go take a shower. Just before you went to the bathroom, though, your phone rang again.

Grinning, you picked up again, “Look, if you’re telling me you’re gonna set me up again, I swear to god, Gio.”

But you didn’t hear Gio’s voice or teasing laugh. Instead, there was a shaky sniffle on the other side.

You checked the caller ID, and it was an unknown number. From Barcelona.

“Hello?” You said, unsure.

“Hey, Y/N. I just . . . just needed to hear your voice.”

You sighed because you knew exactly who it was. You had etched the cadence and tone of her voice into your memories during the many nights you’ve spent together.

“It’s Ona, by the way.”

“I know,” you nodded. You didn’t quite know how else to carry on this conversation. “I heard Barcelona’s beautiful this time of year.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said, sniffling again. “You should see the beach at sunset. It’s great. I go and sit there almost every night.”

“Are you drunk, Ona?”

“No, no. Maybe a little bit. Just a little bit though. I had two glasses of wine. Or else I wouldn’t have the courage to be doing this. Just like I didn’t have the courage to tell you that I had feelings for you too. Have, I still do.”

You closed your eyes and shut off the water. Then she said it again, “I have feelings for you, Y/N. I think about you all the time. And I know you might be with someone now, but I just can’t . . .”

She started crying again. “I can’t go on without telling you anymore.”

“This is incredibly selfish, what you’re doing, Ona.” You were close to tears too, hearing how much this hurt her.

“I know. I’m sorry I fucked it all up. I’m sorry for hurting you. If I could take back everything I said, I would. I’m so, so sorry.”

You took a deep breath and sat back down on your bed. “I forgive you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was selfish too,” you said quietly. “You should go to sleep. You have a Champions League final to play tomorrow.”

You ended the call before you or she could say anything else.

“Shit,” you mumbled and threw yourself back onto the bed. This was exactly why you had to say no to Barcelona, even though it was your dream to play for them. Alas, it started to feel like a mistake.

You dialed Toni. “Hey, um, please don’t kill me for asking this, but could you reach back out to Barcelona and tell them I’m very interested?”

“I knew you’d pull some shit like this so I’ve stalled them. They don’t know we’re negotiating with Lyon, and would probably be fine with setting up a call soon. It’d be a headache to handle Lyon, though.”

“That’s why you’re the best agent in the world, right?” You smiled sheepishly.

“We’ll see, Y/N. We’ve got some leverage for now, but it’s not guaranteed that Barça won’t say no.”

“Thank you, Toni!” You hung up the phone.

ESPN: Barcelona Completes Signing of Y/N Y/L/N from Manchester City on World Record Transfer Fee “Manchester City W.F.C. has agreed to sell USWNT winger Y/N Y/L/N to Barcelona on a £485,000 record fee. This transfer surpasses Keira Walsh’s own move to Barcelona from the Sky Blues in 2022 with a fee of around £400,000. The signing of the summer was finally completed after several clubs have been reported to enter the race. Olympique Lyon was also close to acquiring the 22-year-old’s signature, but the deal broke down in late June when the player repeatedly expressed her interest in joining the Catalan giants. A technically gifted forward, Y/L/N can play on either side as a winger, and occasionally as an attacking midfielder for the national team. Her impending arrival at La Blaugrana would provide a boost in attacking power to an already impressive Barcelona side. […]”

“Jesus, you look like someone murdered your mother or something. Liven up, please.” Mapi smacked her Ona on the shoulder.

“I’m just a little nervous to see her again,” the younger girl muttered, fiddling with her fingers.

She could hear voices outside the dressing room getting closer. At the sound of your voice, her ears trained. She remained facing her locker, trying to occupy herself until you came in. She really felt like throwing up.

You greeted Aitana first with a quick hug, Marta too, then Lucy brought you in for a spin and released you for Keira to go in for the hug.

You said hello to Mapi and Ingrid, both of whom hugged you tightly.

Then you were in front of her. She had expected you to not even look at her, after what she had said over the phone. But you smiled a genuine smile, the one you used to give her whenever the world was a little too hard to bear.

Ona remembered everything. From the sheer hatred and resentment to the lust and sleepless nights under the sheets, to the longing and heartache she endured away from you.

“Welcome,” she whispered quietly, afraid you might not reciprocate her greeting.

Instead, you pulled her into you and held her tightly.

a/n: i’ve decided to add some lore for our y/n, lmk if you like it, if you don’t like it, if you think it’s too long and you just wanna get straight to the smooching :)) there’s more to come but now the stakes 😌☝️ are higher now that we have some info on what makes y/n ticks. i’m going back to college this week so updates might come later but yeah pls let me know what you think!!

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle angst #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #gio reyna x reader #woso #lucy bronze #mapi leon #ingrid engen

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silentglassbreak · 1 month

Note

if you’re still taking and writing delulu fantasies could i please request one where you meet noah (say you know people working in the scene so you meet them backstage after a show when your friends invite you to spend time with them?).

you’re used to meeting band dudes so it’s nothing but noah tries to appear chill in his pursuit of you. you think he’s cute so you go with it but the most awkward flirtation and cringy smut ensues. (my kink’s an embarrassed noah 😌) thank you so much! <3

Cringey, embarrassed smut? That’s a first for me, and I’m kind of excited LOL. Hopefully this is what you’re looking for!

After Writing Notes: Yaknow, every time I start one of these things, I tell myself I'm going to make it shorter...Anyway, here's 9000 words. Hope you enjoy! Also, huge shoutout to @notyourmomsromancenovel for helping me come up with ideas for cringey smut.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: injury, fainting, smut (in the goofiest way ever)

Beautiful Mistakes

When you pictured Noah Sebastian - front man and lead vocalist in the viral metal-core band Bad Omens - you pictured something way different.

You had been following the band’s work for a while and, like everyone else, had noticed the immediate shift in their persona and presence. You had been a softcore fan of theirs since 2018, and spent many nights on Twitch, playing Elden Ring and listening to his streams as background noise. Sometimes you had been one of the only people in the chat, listening to him produce his beats or record rough vocals. Other times, you sat and chatted with him while he idly played guitar.

Once the pandemic hit full force, there were plenty of nights you sat and talked to Noah, watching the hilarity that ensued. Cat-eared headset on and music playing, Noah would stare at his screen, munching on the Body of Christ and making ridiculous noises.

“Where are my regulars? I need someone to talk to!”

/CrossContaminate/: I’m right here, calm down.

“Hey! Cross is here! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

/CrossContaminate/: I have a job, Noah. You wouldn’t know about that. 😝

“Woooooow…” He pressed a hand to his chest and stared straight into the camera. “That one stung, girl.”

/CrossContaminate/: How do you know I’m a girl? I could be a 50 year old dude, yaknow.

He raised his eyebrows at that. “You’ve got a point. Maybe you should come on video chat with all of us so we can be sure.” He lowered his glasses down on his nose and looked dead into the camera. “For my own safety, of course.”

You cackled loudly at this, typing out your response.

/CrossContaminate/: Nah, I don’t vid chat. You’ll just have to take my word for it.

He rolled his eyes, and smirked. “Same old Cross, I see.”

Noah tried to get you to join video chat regularly often over the years. He had DM'ed you a few times when he saw you were online, wanting to voice call or join a Discord with him, to which you always declined.

You didn’t have a hard and fast rule against chatting online with people via voice or video, you just didn’t do it. Your life was busy and hectic. You didn’t have a ton of time to yourself, so the nights where you got to sit and just not exist in the real world, and only online, it was nice to just remain anonymous.

You had stumbled across Noah’s Twitch by accident once, when looking for something different. His face captured you, however, and once you clicked into it, you were hooked. It wasn’t so much because he was good looking - he was definitely a cutie - but he looked ridiculous.

His hair was long and haphazard. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, drinking cheap wine straight from the bottle, and he was wearing huge bottle cap sunglasses. It was, by far, the goofiest thing you had seen in a long time. He was playing Dead Space, and would jump at the smallest noises, nearly screaming anytime a monster popped into the frame.

But, as all things, time moved on, and he changed. Once the pandemic was waning down, he had began preparing for the release of his next album. The streams became less frequent, and he put his account on a permanent hiatus.

It was a bummer, so you couldn’t help but try keeping track of him on socials. He was decently active on Twitter and Instagram, but even that began to slow down. He had enough followers that your personal account went unnoticed by him.

Aside from his online presence, his appearance also changed pretty dramatically in a very short time. He cut all of his hair off, which, to be entirely honest, broke your heart some. You had always loved the innocence he seemed to maintain by having the long hair. It hurt your feelings to see it go, but you had to admit, the short hair was something else entirely.

Before, Noah typically stuck to regular t-shirts and jeans, simple and timeless rock and roll fashion. Once they started touring for TDOPOM album, you noticed the dramatic change in their stage presence. Ski masks, all black clothing, track pants, and heavy coats. Noah usually ended the set in a black wife-beater top, and you noticed the other change.

He was fucking stacked, now. Noah had always been skinny and long - like a toothpick. Not anymore. His shoulders had broadened, his neck was thicker, and his arms were defined and muscular. That was a change you didn’t mind at all.

What happened? Was second puberty a thing? Because you swore that could be the only explanation for such a drastic difference in Noah in such a short time period.

Although you watched the band from afar, you never had made any time to go see them live, always working anymore. That sucked, because even if you had, it’s not like you’d be able to see him. He was too big of a celebrity now, and you were far from. He likely wouldn’t even remember you, so you never bothered.

As silly as it sounded, it almost hurt your feelings the same as watching an old friend change and grow apart from you over time, even though that wasn’t exactly the case here.

Although, you rationalized that you and him did speak nearly every day for almost two whole years - so it wasn’t that silly, was it?

So you were absolutely floored when your best friend called you, random Friday evening, and asked you for a favor.

“I booked a gig for tomorrow, and I know it’s last minute, but the guy who was supposed to be helping ate some bad sushi or something, and I could desperately use a hand.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, trying not to be too loud in the Target checkout line.

“It’s my only day off, Iz.”

She huffed. “I know, I know, but I promise it pays really well!”

You growled into the receiver. “Dude, I just did a gig last night, and I have another to do tonight!”

“It’s only four hours! And it pays twelve hundred.”

You were ready to protest, but stopped. “Total?”

“A piece.”

“Fuck, dude. That’s more than double what a normal gig that long pays.”

“I know, that’s why I’m saying, worth the exhaustion.”

You finished scanning your items, pulling your card out to pay. “That kind of money, probably a big band. Who is it?”

“Bad Omens, have you heard of them?”

You stopped, eyes snapping up and fingers stalling at the card reader. “No shit, huh?”

“So, you have heard of them?”

You grabbed your bag, making your way outside. “Yeah, actually. Remember that guy on Twitch I used to talk to?”

“Noah?” It took her a second to put the pieces together, so you stayed silent while she did. “Oh, Noah! As in Noah Sebastian!”

“Bingo.”

“Well shit! Maybe he remembers you!”

You shook your head, taking a long gulp of your iced coffee. “Mm-mm,” You set the drink down. “he never saw my face or heard my voice. Didn’t even know my real name.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Only knew me by my tag. He called me ‘Cross’ for short.”

“Ah, okay, so he’ll have no idea who you are!” She laughed at this.

You switched the call to your Bluetooth and sighed. “I guess, since you asked so fucking nicely and I need to pay my rent, I will agree to do the gig with you.”

She squeaked in appreciation. “You’re saving my ass, dude.”

You shrugged. “Pick me up at least two hours before. We need time to prepare.”

“Noon, then?”

“I’ll be ready.”

You and Isobel were known, by the official term in the industry, as Venue Assistants. You were independent contractors who were recommended to acts by the venues, and hired by those bands for specific occasions to help ensure a smooth, easy show. This could mean anything from stocking the green room, switching out instruments, helping with outfit changes, grabbing anything the artists needed. It was an exhausting job, and you had been doing it for about five years now. As tiring as it was, it paid well, and it was a lot of fun. You had the opportunity to meet some of the best bands in the industry - and some of the worst. You had more stories to tell than anyone, and you wouldn’t change careers if you were paid to.

At the venue the following day, you had received word from the stage director that the band was running behind, and they needed you both to grab food and coffees for all of them. Typically, you’d roll your eyes at this, but you didn’t immediately, as you knew life happened, and it could’ve happened for a lot of reasons. You had gone and grabbed the guys their Chinese food while Iz picked up the Starbucks order, and arrived back at the theater just before the band did.

They came in, all looking rather tired and irritated. Noah was the last to enter, baseball hat on his head and wearing basketball shorts under his large hoodie.

“All I’m saying is, I don’t know how you had no idea the window would break.” The man who you recognized to be Jolly was still lecturing Noah as they came in, dropping their bags down.

You and Isobel were in the back of the room, speaking with the crew who were preparing to bring in the instruments and equipment. You planned to help unload it all, so you were listening to the stage director instruct them on where to place everything.

“It was a stress ball! Why would I think it would break the window?!”

“Because it was hard?” Folio piped up as he sat down, tearing into the food.

“Look, it’s not a huge deal. Safelite said they can have it fixed before tomorrow. It’ll be fine!”

You shook your head, sincerely wondering what the hell they were talking about. Your attention, however, was pulled back to Isobel. You followed her out to the truck where the loading ramp was being pulled down.

“You going to talk to him?” She asked as she began pulling a mic stand out. You grabbed one of the smaller amps, and followed her back to the delivery door.

“Probably not. We’ve got a lot to do.”

“I mean,” She set the stand down and looked over to where the band sat, apparently still arguing amongst themselves, and looked back at you. “you could go talk to him now? I can unload this with the guys.”

“I need to earn my paycheck too, Iz.”

“Why don’t you want to talk to him?”

You stopped walking away, turning to look at her. “I never said that.”

“So go talk to him? He’s just a guy.”

You sighed, narrowing your eyes at her. “Fine, I will.”

Stomping back toward the couches of the green room, you heard her laugh behind you. It wasn’t any big deal, you didn’t see why she was bugging you about this. You inhaled a big breath, and walked straight up to the group, noticing they were all now sat and eating.

“Hey guys.” You waved a hand at them. “I don’t mean to bug you while you’re eating. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’ll be one of your VA’s for the evening. If you need anything at all, or have any preferences I should be aware of, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

They all set their food down and stood, pushing their hands out for you to shake. You took each one gracefully, hearing them tell you their names, which you already knew.

The last to introduce himself was Noah, who, while leaning over the table to take your grasp, knocked a bottle of soy sauce down, causing you to jump back. It was too late, and your dark blue jeans had black splatter on them.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry!”

You grabbed a napkin and patted at the spots quickly, waving. “No, it’s okay. It shouldn’t stain.” Hopefully.

Nicholas grabbed a roll of paper towels from the back table and cleaned it up quickly, smiling sheepishly at you. “You’ll have to excuse Noah. He’s as clumsy as they come.”

Noah smacked a hand at his shoulder. “Not true, dick.” He looked back up at you apologetically. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

Moving around the table to approach him, you took his hand. “It’s really no problem.”

“I didn’t catch your name?” You gave it to him, and he smiled brightly at you. “That’s different?”

Smirking, you nodded. “It is. You can just call me Cross.”

For a second, you weren’t sure he was going to get it. His hand continued shaking yours for an unnecessarily long time while his brow furrowed, staring at you. After a moment, he cocked his head to the side.

“Cross…” He strung the word out on his tongue. “As in…” You could actually see the light bulb go off behind his eyes, and they popped open wide.

“Oh shit!” His hand let go of yours, and suddenly he was grabbing you by the forearms, startling you a bit. “No fucking way!”

He was smiling way bigger than you expected, but in that smile, you saw that same goofy guy that used to sit with you for hours, chatting online and dicking around.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember.” You grinned back at him, trying to push down the little bit of butterflies that started trying to scoot their way into your chest.

You noticed how his face fell just slightly when you said it, likely remembering quite how long it had been. “Of course I remember.” His voice was even, but he still looked enthused.

“Well, it’s good to finally meet you.”

He looked up and down at you, taking a step back for effect. “Yeah, same here. I guess you aren’t a fifty year old dude after all.”

Your face flushed at that, and you shook your head. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Care to introduce?” Jolly stood behind you, and you turned to see him stand with a raised eyebrow.

Noah took the initiative to push you slightly toward the rest of the band.

“You guys remember when I used to stream all the time? And I had that one chick who used to join every day and chat with me for hours? She was the one who used to tell people I was a Billie Eilish fan page.” He looked down at you with an eyebrow raised, and you broke out in hard laughter.

“Well, you practically were, Noah!”

He shook his head, turning to tower over you. “I was not! I just like her music!”

Folio stood up, smiling wide. “Oh, dude I remember that! Didn’t she hack into your account and change your profile photo and everything?”

Noah glared down at you, which caused a whole new fit of giggles to erupt.

“What?! It got you more subs!”

He rolled his eyes and pulled your arm, moving you to sit on the couch next to him.

“How have you been?” He shoved a mouthful of chow mein and spoke around his food. “I know it’s been a while, I’m sorry.”

You just shook your head. “No need to apologize. You’ve been busy.”

He beamed at that. “Have you heard the new album?”

“I have. It’s really great.”

“You think? I appreciate that.”

You sat back, watching how he inhaled the food in front of him. “Also, I’ve been good. Also keeping busy.”

Wiping his mouth on a napkin, he nodded. “This is what you do? Full time?”

“Yeah, been doing it a while. I like it.”

He leaned back also, arms falling into his lap. The other guys had began to disperse, heading to different parts of the building to begin their preparations.

"That's cool."

The conversation fell silent between you both, and you cleared your throat. "Well, it's really good to see you, Noah."

He affirmed with a nod, chewing on his lip. "I feel bad for not keeping in touch."

"Oh stop. You had no way to reach me other than Twitch."

"That's true. I don't have social media anymore, either." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, I saw that."

The quiet was strange and uncomfortable, and you decided not to stall your job any longer. "Well, I'd better get back to work."

He stood too, bumping into your shoulder as he did, nearly knocking you back into the couch. Instantly, his hand reached out to grab you.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, and in his attempt to hook your arm, his hand missed, and grabbed a full hand of your right breast.

A sharp gasp tumbled out of you, and he pulled his hand back with haste, causing you to lose your balance again, and fall backward, the back of your head smacking the arm of the couch.

"Damn it!" He crouched down to grab you, but your hand came up in front of you.

"Uhm," You squeezed your eyes closed, clearing the spots that formed in your vision. "I got it."

Sitting up, you rubbed at the back of your head. He sat down again, keeping about a foot of distance between you.

"I'm so fucking sorry."

Your eyes opened, seeing the look of absolute shame and guilt painted on his face. It was comical.

What a fucking doofus.

"Noah," You turned your head back and forth to assess if your neck was injured. It wasn't. "I think your clumsiness is spreading."

His face fell in his hands. "I'm so sorry." He apologized again, groaning loudly. "I don't know what's wrong with me today!"

"Everyone has off days." You assured, taking a moment before you stood back up.

"Not like today. I broke a window in the tour bus this morning, that's why we were late."

Your mouth fell open. "You broke the window?"

"I didn't mean to! I had one of those squishy stress-ball things? It was real firm, cause it was new. So I was trying to soften it up by squeezing it, and I thought, maybe if I bounced it a few times, it would get softer..."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You didn't..."

"I just tossed it gently and the fucking thing broke a hole clean out of the window!"

Maybe it was the near-concussion or the obscenity of it all, but a guttural laughter came out of you, making you fall back onto the couch clutching your sides.

"It's not funny!" Noah tried to argue, but ended up laughing with you, his bravado deflating.

"Ah, Noah," You wiped the tears spilling from your eyes. "you really haven't changed."

After your unfortunate accident earlier, Noah had insisted on exchanging numbers with you, so he could check in and make sure you were okay throughout the night. This was after he failed to convince you to go get checked out at an ER, and swore him to not tell anyone what happened. The last thing you needed was an incident in the workplace.

Noah was half an hour from going onstage, and you were on the side stage, checking the battery level of all of the microphones. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you rolled your eyes. It had been nearly constant for the last three hours.

Noah: Checking in. How's the head?

You sighed, typing a quick response.

You: Same as it was twenty minutes ago - normal.

Noah: Any pain?

You: No.

That wasn't entirely true. You had a dull throbbing at the base of your skull, but you were doing a great job of ignoring it.

Noah: Okay. Where are you?

You: Stage left. I'm covering you and Folio tonight, so I'm checking the mics and making sure all your stuff is ready.

Noah: Cool. Need any help?

You: Shouldn't you be getting ready?

Noah: Yeah, probably.

You snickered, staring at your screen before sending the next message.

You: If I didn't know better, I'd think you concussed me just to ask me for my number.

It was stupid, but you couldn't help but fuck with him a little bit. His response came quickly.

Noah: Maybe I did. ;P

You scowled down at the phone. What the hell?

His type bubble appeared quickly, another message coming in.

Noah: Wait, that sounded creepy. I'm kidding, I swear.

You: Suuuuuuure

He read that message, but didn't respond. You had definitely caught him a little off-guard and it made you laugh. You stared down at the winking face emoji, and it dawned on you that he was flirting with you. You visibly shivered, somewhat stunned.

Noah Sebastian was tall, dark, and sexy in almost every video and interview you had watched of him since he went dark over a year ago...but inside, it appeared he was still just as dorky and uncoordinated as you always knew him to be. You didn't realize it was quite this bad, however.

And not only was he clumsy, he was bad at flirting too...

You shook off the feeling, trying your hardest not to smile at the thought. Despite the ickiness of it all, you were flattered. He may be kind of Scooby-Doo-ish, but he was handsome, and talented. He also had a soft, deep side of him that you had the pleasure of seeing on more than one occasion.

Maybe he was just nervous? Maybe you could just go with it and see how it turned out?

You resolved to push it to the back of your mind for the time being, placing yourself back into your professional work mindset as the show began.

Noah was entirely different on stage, completely in control and flowing effortlessly through the songs. He looked like an entirely different person out there. He would pop back to the sides here and there to get some water, switch out his mic, or wipe the sweat from his face. Each time, he'd give you a look of concern, and ask about your head again. You would just shush him and push him back out onto the stage.

You were also covering Folio, who was up on the riser, beating away at his drum set. The stairs you had to climb were tall, and after the third trip up here, you felt the room tilt like it was turning on it's side. You held the railing, catching Folio's eye as the darkened room began lighting up again.

He mouthed at you a quick 'You good?' and you just nodded, throwing him a thumbs up, and heading back down the stairs. Noah was stood, gulping his water, and staring at you.

"I saw that. What's wrong?"

You shook your head. "Nothing, go, the next song is starting."

He pressed a hand into your shoulder, now looking much more stern than worried. "I don't care. Are you okay?"

Still trying to brush it off, you grabbed hold of his arm, trying to push him away. It didn't occur to you that it was also instinctive, as your feet were starting to feel a little numb. "Noah, you don't have time for this."

He stood square in front of you, eyebrows raised and arms crossed over his chest.

"Are. You. Okay?" He enunciated each word, but he suddenly started to look so much taller than he did a second ago. And when did he become so fuzzy?

Your hand squeezed where it was hooked onto his bicep in an attempt to stop the inevitable, but, unfortunately, before he could manage to reach for you, the room went dark.

Your eyes cracked open, a harsh light shining in them, and you squinted against it.

"Hey, you with us?" A blonde man you didn't recognize stared down at you, a stethoscope around his neck and gloves on his hands.

A paramedic. Amazing.

When you looked around, you realized you were on a gurney, sitting in the back of an ambulance with the doors open, in the parking lot of the venue. It was the paramedic that was on call at the theater that night.

"Ugh, no fucking way." You tried to sit up, but a hand pressed onto your shoulder. You shifted your eyes to see Isobel sitting on the bench next to the stretcher. "Iz? What happened?"

The EMT spoke for her, putting his light back in his shirt pocket, and began moving his fingers back and forth in front of your face for you to follow.

"Well, you passed out, and cracked your head on the floor pretty good." You squeezed your eyes closed in frustration. "Big guy in there told us you hit your head earlier, too? That's probably what caused you to faint."

Yeah. Big, dumb, gargantuan guy.

"My head hurts." You winced as the medic turned your neck, checking your range of motion.

"I'm sure it does. You're all intact, it appears, but given that this was the second impact today, I strongly suggest going to the ER to get a scan."

You rolled your eyes, trying again to sit up. "I don't think-"

Isobel cut you off. "We're going."

The EMT nodded, and reached to begin shutting the doors. Admitting defeat, you carefully laid your head back down. The vehicle started moving and you let out a hard breath.

"We're so not getting paid for tonight."

Iz laughed, shaking her head. "I think it'll be fine. Noah was in a near panic attack when he moved you to the couch. Kept saying it was all his fault."

You snickered. "Kind of is."

"He wanted to cancel the rest of the show, but I told him you'd have a full stroke if he did that because of you."

Your eyes popped open, and you tried to sit up. "He didn't do that, did he?!"

The EMT pressed you back down. "Easy, easy."

Isobel patted your shoulder. "No, he didn't."

You melted back onto the bed. "Oh thank fuck for that."

The ride to the Emergency Room was short, and the nurses made quick work of getting you into a rollable bed and carting you off to get a CT scan of your head and neck. That was mundane, but they had given you something decent for the pain, so it wasn't so bad. You hummed to yourself as you were rolled back to your room, and Isobel was missing. You whipped your head around, looking to see if she was anywhere to be found, but a voice came from the opposite side.

"She went to get a snack."

Noah stood by the doorway, hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, white t-shirt on, and a beanie over his hair. He had cleaned up since the show, you could tell.

"The show is over already?"

He huffed out a laugh, stepping over to the end of your bed. "Yeah, for a little while now. You've been at the hospital for two hours."

You raised your eyebrows, but it didn't phase you too much. "Time flies when you're on morphine, I suppose."

His hands gripped the rails at the end of the bed. "How you doing?"

You nodded, sinking against the mattress. "I mean, I've been better, but I've been worse."

He lifted an eyebrow at you, and moved to perch himself on the very edge of the end of the bed. "Yeah? That's...better than nothing?"

You nodded, looking him up and down. He looked more like himself in this outfit, and you liked it. It felt more genuine.

"How did the rest of the show go?"

He shrugged his shoulders, hands still in his pockets. "Good, I guess. I was stressed, so I felt like I kind of rushed through it."

You brought your arms up behind your head, getting comfortable. "You shouldn't have. I'm good."

Noah deadpanned at you. "Obviously you weren't. You should've gone to the hospital earlier."

You scoffed. "Oh well. Doesn't matter now."

He was leaned over, his shoulder pulled in and he looked nervous.

"What's wrong?"

"What?" He looked bewildered.

"You look upset or something?"

He snickered, readjusting his feet on the floor. "Well, I gave you a concussion, couldn't convince you to get checked out and agreed not to tell anyone, which led to you getting an even worse concussion, and you're now potentially bleeding into your brain... That's probably got something to do with it."

You waved a hand at him. "Details. It's not a big deal."

He shook his head, looking at the wall adjacent from him and not at you. "This is not how I pictured us getting to meet."

This interested you, so you probed. "You pictured us meeting?"

He smirked. "We talked for a couple years, Cross. Of course I did."

"And how was that supposed to go?" High or not, you were curious.

He chuckled, still not looking at you. "Not like this."

You rolled your eyes. "Well, duh. But what did you expect?"

"I don't know. Something normal? Hanging at a movie or getting food? Like normal people?"

You cackled. "Well, you're not normal, Noah."

"Clearly." He said through grit teeth.

Leaning back again, you relaxed, and pursed your lips. "Were you trying to flirt with me earlier?"

You could tell this caught him by surprise, as he began looking nervous again. "What do you mean?"

"Well, either your were trying to flirt, or you actually gave me a concussion just to get my phone number."

He bit back a laugh, looking at you sheepishly. "Yeah, no that wasn't on purpose. Just a bad joke."

"Well, you could've just asked for my number, is all I'm saying."

He shook with soft laughter. "Noted." He stood then, turning toward the doorway where Isobel could be seen coming down the hallway. "Well, I mostly wanted to make sure you were okay. I should go."

Something about that didn't feel right to you, and you sat up a little quickly, your brain sloshing slightly in your skull, but you ignored it.

"You're leaving?" In your inebriated mind, you pictured yourself looking silly and desperate, but your logic knew that likely was just the drugs talking.

“Yeah, well, you don’t need a disaster magnet hanging around.” He said looking timid.

Isobel had joined you back in the bedroom, and was turning to look between the both of you.

“Everything okay?” She stared at Noah, and he reached a hand to palm the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I was just getting ready to head out.”

Your mouth moved before you could stop it. “No he wasn’t.”

Both of their heads snapped to look up at you, and he looked so puzzled. “No?”

You shook your head, soft smile adorning your face. “No, not unless you have somewhere to be.”

Isobel picked up on the tension in the room and made a show to look at her smart watch.

“Oh damn, look at that, I’m getting a call. Be right back.”

She slipped from the room and Noah focused his stare back on you.

“You want me to stay?”

You nodded, crossing your legs in front of you and sitting straight.

“That could be hazardous, you know?” He joked, but rounded back around by the bed, sitting a little closer to you on the edge.

“I don’t care.”

It took what felt like forever for the doctor to finally enter the room, interrupting yours and Noah’s game of hot hands you were playing while Iz sat in a chair on the side, chatting idly about the next gig she had booked for Motionless in White.

“Ah, I see your coordination is no issue.” The doctor spoke right as your hand came down to slap the back of Noah’s hard, forcing him to pull away hastily and hiss in pain.

You giggled, and turned to face the physician. “How’s my head?” He looked down at his paperwork, nodding in approval. Noah moved off the bed so the doctor could come around and shine a light at your eyes for the hundredth time.

“Looks good. No bleeds, no fractures. You shouldn’t have any lasting side effects aside from some headaches for a few days.” You smiled and glanced at Noah, seeing the physical relief he breathed out.

“You need to follow up with a neurologist in one week, and you need to stay in bed for at least five days.”

You grunted in disapproval. “That sucks.”

He sucked his teeth. “I know, but it’s just a precaution. Do you live with someone? Parents? Roommate? Boyfriend?”

If Noah were a dog, his ears would have been perking at that last word.

You shook your head. “Just me.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone. Can you stay with someone until you can go to the neurologist?”

I sunk down. “Not really? I have a cat that needs to be looked after.”

“I can come stay with you.” Isobel spoke up from her side of the bed, and I smiled at her appreciatively.

“Okay, good. I think I can get you out of here, then. No blood thinners for a few days, just Tylenol for pain. You experience any odd symptoms or pain that’s unbearable, you come straight back, yes?”

You nodded, and he smiled.

“Great, I’ll put in for the discharge.”

You turned to look at her, reaching out for her to take your hand. “You didn’t have to do that, Iz.”

She smirked. “Someone has to.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Can we just stop by my place? I’ve got a couple things I need to do, it’ll take a couple hours, probably. Or I can drop you off and head back over?”

“She shouldn’t be alone, though, right?” Noah piped up from where he stood on the opposing side of the bed.

You sighed. “I’m so tired though. I want to go home and get in my sweats.”

He pursed his lips, mind working while looking at your face, before glancing back up to Isobel.

“Why don’t I take her home, and I can hang with her till you get there? That way you can do what you need to, but she can go home and get comfortable?”

Isobel eyed you, wanting to hear your thoughts on it before she answered. You just shrugged in response, and she slowly tore her eyes off of you to look back at Noah.

“Alright, but be careful driving her home.” She smiled in a patronizing fashion. “You can understand my hesitation after today.”

He clenched his jaw, knowing exactly what she meant, and looked back down at you. You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

His eyes fell back to Iz, that sternness returning in his tone.

“I‘ll be careful.”

The drive back to your apartment was silent, the air hanging with uncertainty. The only sound above the whir of the motor was you giving directions to your place, and Noah humming his understanding.

It took until you were over halfway there for him to look at you, eyes looking sad.

“Feel like the morphine’s wearing off?”

You were rubbing at your temples, and you snorted. “How could you tell?”

He smirked. “I’m so sorry.”

You groaned. “Noah, if you apologize one more time, I’m going to slap you.”

He sucked his lips in and looked back out the windshield.

“It wasn’t your fault, it happens.”

His knuckles flexed on the steering wheel and he inhaled a long breath. "It's actually, technically, one hundred percent my fault." He admitted, gritting his teeth.

He pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and his vehicle came to a stop just outside of your building.

"I don't suppose you live on the first floor?" He chanced, but you shook your head.

"Third." He looked like he was about to start stressing, but you smiled. "There's an elevator."

This made him relax back in his seat before he stepped out, moving quickly to your side and letting you out.

He carried your bag and sweater in his arms as you led up to the elevator, and down the hall to your small one-bedroom apartment. Once inside, your white, short-haired cat bound up to you both, meowing with fervor.

Noah looked down at her, and back up to you. You reached down and scooped up her small body with one hand, holding her to your chest.

"Noah, this is Narcissa."

He smiled, petting her head with one finger, which she accepted graciously.

"She's probably starving, I'd better feed her." Before you could move toward the kitchen, he put a hand on your arm.

"Let me. Where's her food?"

You pointed him in the right direction, taking the moment to head into your bedroom, kicking your shoes off and reaching for a t-shirt from the closet and a pair of shorts from the drawer of your long dresser. He appeared in the doorway right after you had slipped the shirt over your head, and he leaned against the frame.

"She's fed. Anything I can get you?"

You panned around the room, thinking for a moment. "I've got some chips and salsa in the kitchen. Chips in the pantry and salsa in the fridge. Want to grab it and meet me in the living room?"

He nodded, heading to complete his task. You padded over to the couch, dropping down onto the soft cushions, and pulled your sofa blanket over you. He joined you after a moment, setting the food on the coffee table, your phone next to it.

"Thought you'd want that."

He sat and watched the television as you flipped through Hulu, looking for something to watch. You could feel how uncomfortable he was, trying so hard to keep a wide distance from you, likely so as not to hurt you.

"Noah?"

He looked over, eyebrows raised. "Hmm?"

You made a show of relaxing back on the couch, and motioned for him to do the same. "Take a breath. I'm fine."

He tried, leaning back and exhaling loudly. "You okay with Evil Dead? It's one of my favorites."

"Sure. I've seen it a couple times."

You sat back, now munching on some chips, and offered him the bag. He grabbed some, crunching on them loudly.

The movie played, but you could feel how, as he finally did begin to relax, he was moving somewhat closer to you. It was fascinating. He wasn't doing it on purpose, it was almost as if he was a magnet, and you were the pole it attached to.

"Can I ask you a question?" He looked over at you, listening. "Why did you go dark?"

You could see he was baffled by the so off-topic ask, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Uh," He looked back at you. "A lot of reasons, really."

"Mm." You nodded, setting the chips back on the table. "Why did you go dark on me?"

This caught his complete attention, and his body turned to face you. "What?"

"You didn't even say bye or anything. You just...stopped coming online. And I had no way to reach out."

He furrowed his brow. "I'm a little surprised you wanted to, Cross."

"Why?"

He made a noise that sounded nearly annoyed. "Well, you never wanted to talk on a call. You never showed your face. You wouldn't even tell me your real name."

Guilt sunk in to your gut, reminding you that he was absolutely right.

"I just figured you weren't interested in maintaining the friendship beyond what it was, so I didn't think about it."

You nodded, understanding. There was nothing wrong with it, but it still sort of hurt your feelings.

"I get it. I was just curious."

"Why didn't you ever reach out?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but had to stop, because you realized...you didn't know. There wasn't a clear, concise reason why. Maybe you liked the idea of Noah being just an idea? A friend? Someone who didn't know you, and all that came with? Maybe it made it easier to feel safe talking to him?

He noticed you were uncomfortable with the conversation, and waved it off. "It doesn't matter now."

You had to agree with that. It wasn't going to change anything.

"Well, let's just watch the movie and you can rest."

You leaned back on the couch, and it wasn't lost on you that Noah was slowly scooting closer still, only now, you were pretty sure he was doing it on purpose. The room felt warm, and you adjusted under the blanket to kick a leg out, it being pressed against his. His eyes darted down to where you had touched him, and back up to your face. You kept your eyes straight ahead, smirking at the situation.

He leaned forward, pulling his beanie off and running his hand through his hair. "Is it warm in here?"

You smiled, just dropping your shoulders. He leaned back, and tried so desperately to smoothly slip an arm on the back of the couch, stretching at the same time.

He wasn't actually doing this, was he?

He was adorable, despite how absolutely ridiculous he was. He was nervous, and you knew that, but you worked overtime to hide your amusement, just shifting so you were pressed into his side.

His hand hesitated on the back of the couch, twitching as if he wanted to just wrap it around your shoulders, your head now resting on his chest.

You sighed loudly. "Noah, just put your arm around me."

"Yup." He gripped you, and adjusted to curl into him closer, leg falling over his. You giggled at him, and he pressed his face into the top of your head, embarrassed. "Clearly, I'm not good at this."

The movie played on, and at the scarier parts, you gripped his shirt tightly. You weren't very spooked, but it was what you did when snuggling on the couch with a cute boy, so you just went with it.

"Cross?" His voice was small, and you pressed in closer to hear him better.

"Hmm?"

"I really want to kiss you, but I'm kind of," He cleared his throat. "afraid?"

You scrunched up your nose and lifted your face to look at him. "Afraid?" His eyes were so big and doe-like, it pulled at something in your chest.

"Yeah, after all that's happened today? What if I miss and...I don't know...break your nose, or something?"

It took a second, but your face broke out in a large grin and you started laughing like a hyena. It was so absurd.

"What?!"

You had to take a breath, the ache in your head beginning to throb a little harder with your labored breathing. "I'm sorry!" You squeaked out, trying to contain yourself.

"Is it that hard to believe?"

You shook your head. "It's not." You could barely hold the giggles in. "That's why it's so funny."

He narrowed his eyes, pulling his arm from where it was wrapped around your back, but you pushed in closer, finally halting your laughing and looked at him.

"Noah," You lifted one hand to press your palm against his cheek. "if you want to kiss me, just do it."

His eyes flipped between both of yours, considering, before he leaned in and you closed your eyes.

Problem is, so did he...

His top teeth collided into yours making a harsh clacking sound, and causing you both to pull away hastily.

"God damn it!" His hand pressed into his gums, and he stared at you. "Are you okay?" You were laughing again, and he growled. "Maybe we should just not even try."

The tears in your eyes glistened, making him look glittery in your vision, and you just smiled brightly at him.

"Fucking hell, Noah."

You lifted yourself up, grabbing his face, and pressing your mouth to his, this time without incident. Your lips molded to his, and you felt him let out a breath he had been holding. His hands cautiously grabbed you, gently moving you to position so you straddled him, lips not disconnecting as he did.

Your hands gripped his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. Your lips went to work laying featherlike kisses on the soft skin when you heard his voice.

"Uhm, Cross?" He was out of breath, and his chest was heaving. "We probably shouldn't do anything too crazy, on account of the concussion." His voice sounded unconvinced, but still, you pulled back, raising an eyebrow at him.

"My brain is fine. Now, let me have some fun, for fucking once."

His fingers dug into your sides, and your tongue was tracing his tattoos on the side of his throat.

"B-But, I really don't know if we should. The doctor said-"

You pulled back again, this time becoming annoyed. "The doctor said I needed to stay in bed. This counts."

"Okay, but, what if it makes it worse?"

You deflated a bit, hands falling down onto your lap. "Do you not want to do this?" Your voice had cracked just slightly, and you silently cursed yourself for it.

His eyes bulged, and he grabbed you harder. "No, I do! I really, really do. I just don't want to hurt you."

Even with the concern and empathy in his voice, you couldn't help but grind down onto his hips, noticing his pants were significantly tighter, and pull a moan straight out of his chest.

"You won't Noah. At least, not in a bad way." You wiggled your brows at him and gripped the sides of his neck.

He looked confused. "Is there a good way?" Incredulously, you dropped your forehead on his chest, his mind catching up a second later. "Oh! Oh right! Sorry, I don't know where my mind is right now."

You just kissed him again, tired of talking - or whatever that was - about it. Noah lifted his hips to push into you, which was the first thing he had done right all evening. You felt his erection beneath the layers of fabric between you, the friction delicious against your crotch. This time, he began placing soft kisses on your neck, barely touching the skin and teasing you.

His fingers loosened around your hips and wandered up to your shirt, slipping underneath and goosebumps rose on your skin where he touched. His hands found your breasts and took them in handfuls.

You couldn't help but giggle at the memory that flashed through your head, which caused him to look up at you.

"What?"

You smiled down at him. "Nothing, it's just that you grabbed my chest earlier when you tried to catch me. I was just thinking, I like this better."

He sighed, his head falling back. "I was hoping you hadn't noticed that."

You kissed him again, pressing back down on him, and regaining his attention.

"Noah?" His eyes looked at yours, his body now rhythmically pressing into you. "Fuck me? Please?"

You didn't mean to sound quite so needy, but it just came out that way. You were aching so bad for it, and you felt as if he didn't slip inside you soon, you may explode.

His eyes darkened, and he smiled back at you, his arms flexing around your waist and lifting you gently to lay you down on the couch. Hands making quick work of your shorts, pulling them off and staring at you. You may have forgotten to put panties on when you changed earlier, so he was marveling at the sight in front of him.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips before he pulled his own pants and boxers down, exposing his cock. You were impressed. Where Noah lacked grace and technique, he made up elsewhere. He slipped his hand into his pocket, fishing his wallet out. He located the condom quickly and applied it, giving himself a few long strokes as his free hand slid down your stomach, fingertips running through your folds for a second.

"You're sure it won't hurt you?" His mouth was hung open, and you rolled your eyes in response.

You reached your arms up, grabbing at him and pulling him down toward you. He fell forward with you, and his hand came down hard on the edge of the coffee table by mistake. He pulled it back, yelping.

"Fuck!" He shook out his hand, and you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you.

"It's okay. Just look at me." Doing as he was told, his dick pressed against your entrance, nudging for approval.

You rocked your hips up, assisting him as he slipped partially inside of you. The stretch burned incredibly, your eyes rolling back with it.

"Oh, wow." Your words were just breaths, arms wrapping around his neck. "T-That's...wow."

Noah's hips pulled back before snapping forward, driving into you with force. Your body shook with the feeling, clenching down around him. His lips were pressing kisses into the skin on your jaw and collarbone, adding to the lovely sensation.

"Holy fuck, Noah." You lifted your legs to lock around his waist, pushing your hips up. "Harder."

He rammed your body into the cushions, the back of the couch smacking the wall loudly.

"J-Jesus. So good." His words were so quiet, you almost didn't hear. His face was buried in your neck, sweat forming in his hair. "You're so tight."

His whispers were pushing you off the edge. "Ugh, keep talking to me." Your hands gripped his hair, pulling at the roots.

"Fucking can't take it, it's so good. So perfect. So wet." He was railing you so hard, you felt as though you may cry from the sensation. "Just want to stay buried inside you all night, baby."

His words came out so softly, so soothingly that you let your body relax and let go, orgasm ready to tip.

That is, until...

"Ow..." It was almost silent. "Oww..." That was louder. "Ow! Ouch! Fuck!" He sat up suddenly, falling back on the couch.

You sat up, your head still spinning. "What's wrong?!" Your hands wandered over him, but he lifted his leg up on the couch, gripping his calf.

"Fucking leg cramp." His fingers pressed into the visibly tight muscle, and you fell backward, orgasm officially lost.

"I'm sorry!" He tried to reach for you, but you lifted your head, shooting him a warning glance. He pulled back, face turning a deep shade of red.

His cock, however, was stood at full attention still.

Rolling your tongue around in your mouth, you swung your legs off the couch and stood. You pointed to the cushions, and demanded him. "Lay down."

Without hesitation, he did as he was told, laying flat on his back, and stared at you longingly.

Wasting no time, you sat down, sliding onto him with ease now that you'd had a chance to adjust. The angle made you feel so full, so satiated. You let out a long, comfortable moan.

His hands grabbed you, and you began to rock back and forth, begging to chase that lost climax. He peered up at you through half-masked lids, fingers gripping your thighs now.

"Is that better, baby?" You nodded, fingernails scratching down his chest. "Going to come this way? Make a mess all over me?"

Just like Noah was on stage, when he was fucking, he liked to be in control. He was good at it, too.

You nodded, pressing your clit into the skin of his pubic bone. The friction combined with the pressure he was putting on that spot inside you had your thrusts more erratic.

"Can't last like this, honey. You're going to make me come if you keep riding me so fucking good."

His hips were rocking up into you, finding the wave you were riding and helping it wash over you.

"Noah..." You whimpered, hands digging into the skin of his sides. "I'm going to come."

"Yeah, baby, come for me."

His voice, so deep, raspy, sultry, shoved you over that edge, your body slowing down and spasming around him. His hips only had to buck up two more times before he was groaning, leaving fingerprint bruises in your thighs.

You both stayed still, breathing heavily, staring at each other. A grin creeped up onto your face slowly, a matching expression on his.

Both lost in your own universe, neither of you had heard the front door unlocking...

"Hey! I got finished quicker than I expected, so I-"

Both of your heads whipped to the front door, where Isobel had stepped in, duffel bag on her arm and food bags in the other.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" She turn around, covering her eyes with her hand. "What the fuck!"

You and Noah promptly jumped together, scrambling to right yourselves. He pulled at his pants that were still wrapped around his ankles, and you grabbed the blanket from the couch. He sat upright on the sofa, and you pressed against him, pulling the blanket over yourself.

Mortified, you both waited for her to turn around, which she did, eventually.

"Sorry about that, Iz." You said as you interlaced your fingers with Noah's, who was using his other hand to fully cover his face in humiliation.

"Not what I was expecting to see today!" She squealed, walking past the couch toward the kitchen. "I have food, you fucking pervs."

Once she had left the living room, you and Noah looked up at each other, both blushing furiously at having been caught in the act.

Even with the added mishap, you both broke out into large, shining smiles, laughing at the situation.

What a fucking doofus.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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konigbabe · 1 year

Text

the great war

DAY 3 ⇢ Hate Sex Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!curse user!reader Word count: 4k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; hate sex; timejump (2007 → 2018); lovers to enemies vibes; angst; lots of self-loating; pronebone; p-in-v; angry (??) Gojo; unreliable narrator Summary: When the news of Suguru Geto's death reach your ears, the weapon in your grasp guides you to the place where the cause lies - to Satoru Gojo. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider is mine.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

His palm presses firmly between your shoulder blades, a commanding touch that demands submission, while his other hand clamps onto your hips, fingers digging into the curves of your flesh with just the right amount of pressure.

September 2007

Buddhists believe that life is filled with suffering and misery. That death, in the end, is not a singular event, but rather a fundamental contribution to the misery of human existence.

It was a doctrine you refused to believe in. Spending days by the side of fellow sorcerers, suffering and misery rarely crossed your mind. It wasn't that you were naive or ignorant – quite the contrary. As a sorcerer-in-training, you were acutely aware of the dangers and horrors that lurked in the shadows. Cursed spirits, malevolent curses, and the constant struggle to protect the oblivious, helpless civilians were all part of your reality.

However, you clung to an alternative belief – that while suffering is an inherent aspect of life, whether it leads to misery rests entirely within your control –

Among your companions, your unwavering optimism often stood out. While others carried the weight of their pasts and the darkness of their experiences, you chose to embrace hope and resilience. This outlook didn't make you blind to the reality of suffering; rather, it gave you the strength to confront it head-on. At least you had something to hold on to.

– How stupid of you.

With Satoru's chest pressed firmly against your back, you watch the night sky unfold its kaleidoscope of stars above you. It's not often that the night is quiet; when even the stars shine through the clouds of haze and graze you with their gentle glow.

Arms casually thrown over your shoulders, his sharp chin digs into the crown of your head as he looks up at the sky. Your face tucked into the crook of his elbow.

Suguru leans against the railing to your right. Uniform rumpled, hair a cascade of frowzled strands; your eyes shamelessly roam over his face – pale (more than usual, and even more visible against the obsidian backdrop of the night), eyes staring vacantly forward, a well of shadows pooling beneath.

His appearance resembles a spectral apparition. Haunting reflection of the turmoil that seems to have taken residence within him. Events from the past emerge into your mind – Tengen' merger, Amanai's death, Toji, Gojo's enlightenment and the last piece, Haibara's tragic end.

Satoru's hand reaches to gently cradle yours, fingertips tracing the contours of the simple, polished ring adorning your finger. A single aquamarine gemstone decorating the silver band, its shape resembling a tear. His touch so soft and tender that it feels almost imperceptible.

"Hey," Satoru's voice tears you from your thoughts. Suguru's eyes dart to yours, a brief contact before he looks at Satoru, "are you even listenin'?"

("So you never thought ‘bout it?" Suguru's head sinks heavily onto his arms, the once-pristine white shirt now marred by wear of time and crinkled as he sits against the classroom wall. Class ended almost an hour ago, with Satoru leaving by Shoko's side to grab lunch.

"I mean," you release a deliberate sigh, ankles crossed on top of your desk with arms folded over your chest, "it might be an option," rising one hand, you point a finger at him, "but it's evil. And unreachable. Like c'mon," you flick your wrist dismissively, "we're talking about a worldwide genocide."

"Not worldwide, just Japan."

A derisive chuckle escapes your lips, laden with incredulity, upon hearing his words. "Just Japan," you look at your classmate, close friend, "are you hearing yourself, Suguru?"

He gazes up at you, eyes heavy with weariness and emptied of their usual vibrancy. The burden of his thoughts etched onto his face.

"Suguru," your tone drops, voice becoming a mere whisper; the man before your eyes being close to a delicate thread on the verge of snapping, "are you holding up okay?"

"No.")

"Yeah, yeah," you murmur into his skin, returning his touch and caressing his wrist.

"As I was sayin'," your eyes return to Suguru momentarily before flicking to the horizon of darkness stretching above the school's grounds, "once we finally graduate and I become the head of my clan, we could use my estate as our home. Then we can make loads of babies. Pretty sure my father would be pleased if I had a son."

"It's not your estate," you correct Satoru.

"It's a Gojo estate. And I'm a Gojo. The one with Six eyes and the future leader," his fingers sneak under your chin, gripping the soft flesh of your neck to tilt your head to the side and up, gently straining your neck so that you're compelled to look at him. Eyes the same hue of a tranquil ocean under the moonlight.

"I'll put in the work," his tone turns into a whisper, a murmur that wraps around your body like a velvet night, shielding your conversation from intruding ears – including Suguru, who's standing barely an arm's reach away. The man who now feels like an outsider to the intimate exchange of his friends, "get you all full and happy. You won't leave the bedroom until you go into labor."

It's not his words that render you speechless. Immobile. Mouth slightly ajar. Nor the promise they carry, or the weight of the commitment. It's solely the look in his eyes. As if this man truly believes his words. That he sees this not as an equal partnership, but you as the vessel for his legacy, a mother to his progeny, a means to secure his lineage.

The jujutsu society has carved a mark deep within Satoru Gojo's psyche, even if it's been only a subconscious influence.

"Satoru,"a subtle frown creases your forehead, despite the way his words ignite a fire between your legs, make your pussy throb, "I'm not a breed–"

"Some people believe that the stars are the souls of the people who've passed on," Suguru's words cut through the exchange. Pulling your eyes towards his profile, seeing as he continues to watch the night sky, hands tucked away in his pockets. A gentle smile graces his face.

While you're thankful for his precisely timed intervention, Satoru sneaks a hand onto your abdomen, resting in inside your muff pocket with palm squeezing the soft flesh over the clothes. He releases a theatrical breath, capturing the attention of both of you.

"Way to ruin the mood, Suguru," he adds after a while.

"I think there might be some truth to that," you offer a small, appreciative smile.

In the days that follow your conversation, a dark cloud of dread casts its shadow over your every moment, only fueled by the devastating news of Suguru's most recent mission. After that, each moment's laden with a sense of impending unease. As if the future has already been foretold – only a matter of time before the summons arrives, the call to a meeting that you can already taste like the metallic tang of apprehension on your tongue.

Stepping into the room, it's not just the mission that settles heavily upon your shoulders; it's the weight of an unspoken truth that hangs in the air, casting a pall over the proceedings. Staring upon the silver band encircling your finger, cutting off the flow of blood, it's the revelation that has changed everything for you.

The task assigned to you appeared simple, straightforward, presented with a cold and calculated logic: Kill Suguru Geto and return within fourteen days.

(Reality has a way of deviating from the plans made.

It is why you never came back.)

Early 2018

The ghost of Suguru Geto hovers over you like a specter in the periphery of your thoughts. Especially when you stand in front of the man you've avoided for almost a decade.

There's no solid reason for you to be here. In Satoru Gojo's overly expansive, unnecessarily spacious penthouse. His ignorance to wealth and what's necessary versus what's superfluous still glaringly obvious. Especially with his current job; one that back in the day, back when you were all still students, wouldn't even cross his mind.

You weren't entirely certain if he'd be here today. Tonight. Tracking his movements, they'd always end within the barrier of Tokyo's Jujutsu Tech. A barrier that, if crossed, would result in your immediate arrest and subsequent execution. And despite your occasional recklessness, you had no death wish to speak of.

"That's why you're here?" Gojo's glasses now replaced by a black blindfold, folded around his neck. His eyes, shining even in the dim lighting, twinkle with raging stars when they shift to the weapon in your hand, sensing its foreign cursed energy that overwhelms even your own, "to kill me?"

A sardonic snicker escapes you, your laughter bordering mockery as you respond, "Come on, Gojo. Don't get foolish now. I can't kill you."

With a touch of exasperation, you add, "No one can."

"Then why're you here," he demands, his presence commanding the room. Uniform jacket already cast aside, the white button-up shirt partially undone, showing the contours of his clavicles. Time and age have done the sorcerer good; with gained knowledge, he also gained the physicality of experience. Something that creates longing – desire for the past that surges through you. A tidal wave of yearning. A wish that you stayed; that you were there, by his side, witnessing his transformation.

(Could it be the grip of regret? The sting of rue? Perhaps. But the past already happened, ensnared within the grasp on time's flow; its passing moments already etched into the annals of history. Dwelling on it now serves no purpose but to churn the tempestuous sea of emotions.

The sea whose waves are starting to crash against the rocky shores of the present.)

"You disappeared years ago. Without a word. Not even a goddamn ‘Goodbye'."

You watch his cold, distant façade crumble, anger seeping through the cracks as he waves one hand, advancing with measured steps, "I looked for you. Scoured every inch of Japan. For you. Where in the world were you?"

Gojo's eyes blaze with molten determination; boring into your soul, seeking answers you're hesitant, almost reluctant, to provide. Doubt lingers in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog, clouding the once familiar connection between you two.

A connection that you severed with a violent, rapid stroke, leaving nothing but shattered remnants in its wake.

"You had no right to do that," he seethes, words dripping with indignation.

"You are the one to talk," you return his anger, the relentless tide crashing against unyielding cliffs, "you killed him. You killed Suguru, Gojo."

His face contorts with fury, a wildfire raging behind his eyes. The air crackles with tension as your words cut deep, reopening wounds that had never truly healed.

It's then that the distance between you two narrows until he's almost within reach; enough for your fist to connect with him. Fully aware that it would never actually reach him. His flesh. That you won't feel the warmth of his skin. With the jutte sword's blade facing you, fist tightening around the leather handle, you hit and hit a void.

"You killed my friend," your voice trembles with a mixture of sorrow and rage, teeth sinking into your lower lip. The side of your fist repeatedly collides with empty air – it's a cruel dance, truly – a void that fills the space between Gojo and you, a chasm that feels as vast as the abyss, "my friend. Suguru. You killed him–took him away."

Your eyes lock onto his, a desperate search for answers, while Gojo remains a silent and immovable figure. Face resembling carved marble – all solid, perfect yet devoid of any emotion. Letting you spill your anger onto him. You observe as the brilliance in his eyes wanes, those once-vivid blue hues, reminiscent of a precious topaz, gradually losing their luster, darkening, and becoming more reflective of a human's ordinary iris.

Your fist meets the muscle of his chest.

"I hate you," one, two times your fist hits, "I hate you so much, Gojo."

Then his fingers slither around your wrist, twisting it painfully until the loud clank against the floor indicates that your weapon has slipped from your grasp.

"I know," his voice remains monotonous; a mere echo.

He advances, closing the distance between you, his presence a relentless force pressing against you. Eyes a tempest of longing; a tangible aura of desperation that shouldn't flicker across his stoic countenance. All you want to do is stab the look out of his eyes. Gauge it out with your fingers. Stealing away what he so callously takes for granted –

Maybe then he will stop being blind to his surroundings.

– just as he robbed you of your childhood friend. Someone you considered a brother.

"I hate myself too." It's all he mumbles, his voice a barely audible confession, before his lips crash into yours. A tumultuous collision. His hands are everywhere, grasping your shoulders, trailing down your arms, and gripping your hips with an urgency that borders on desperation. Pushing and pulling; body pressed against yours.

Gojo's tongue sweeps over your teeth, the wet tip coaxing yours, drawing forth moan after moan from you, hungrily swallowing every sound you release, trying to quench an insatiable thirst that only your moans can satisfy.

The kiss ravenous, consuming – it makes you unable to resist the magnetic pull of his ardor.

When your name slips between his lips, the reality crashes onto you. Pulling away, you look into his blazing eyes. Lips bruised and swollen, shirt somehow unbuttoned. Showing the contours and hard edges of his chest and abdomen. The scar across his whole upper body, though healed, remains visible. Body sculpted into perfection by years of determined training.

Your hand reaches forward. Fingertips tingling with the longing to make contact, to savor the tactile sensation. And Gojo stands still, a hand resting on your hip, molding your form against the sturdy frame of the couch. Your thighs caught between his, pressed against the velvety embrace of the dark brown upholstery.

Both of your disheveled hairdos mirror the chaos, intensity of the moment, framing your faces with unruly tendrils. Eyes fixated upon his body, hesitating to meet his eyes. Your arm extends more. An outstretched limb seeking connection.

His scrutinizing eyes trace the landscape of your face – witnessing as time stripped away the youthful, once-cheerful smile that had once adorned your lips. Now swollen, hardened lines with two delicate, faint marks traversing your upper lip – a scar. Curiosity gnaws on him, wondering of its origin. If whatever caused it might've been circumvented if you'd stayed.

If you had stayed.

(Maybe if he searched more thoroughly. Fought with greater determination…)

Your hand jerks back. Recoils as if touched by scorching heat. Gaze turning into a torrential downpour as it locks onto his, a deepening frown carving lines across your brow.

"No," he swears he hears you mutter to yourself, lips finding refuge at the juncture of his clavicles. Hands slipping beneath the satin shirt, clenching the taut muscle of his shoulders. One leg draped across his hip, you grind against his thigh without reservation, embracing the sensation of friction against your clothed core, the fabric beginning to absorb your burgeoning desire.

"What–"

"Just fuck me," you nibble at the skin, voice thick with passion, teeth sinking into the flesh and pulling, causing the man to hiss, "fuck me, Gojo."

He grips your jaw. A touch both benevolent and directing. Pulls you off his neck, compelling you to confront the storm of his eyes. Vortex of unspoken emotions. A cyclone of pure desire and passing hesitation. His thumb and index finger press into the soft flesh of your cheekbones, compressing the pliant contours until your lips pucker and part.

"I hate you," you manage to utter, the words emerging as a strained whisper through clenched teeth.

In the ensuing moment, Gojo acknowledges your declaration with a solemn nod, a silent recognition.

"Good," he then pivots you in one fluid motion. Hands finding purchase on the couch's armrests. Gone is the restraint he's maintained until now. He doesn't hold back. Not anymore, not when you made it abundantly clear how you feel; what you want.

Fingers seeking the buttons on your pants, swiftly unzipping the zipper and tugging both your pants and undergarments down your thighs. Until they lock your knees together. His fingers graze your folds and you feel him hiss under his nose. Fingertip tracing your opening, feeling the slippery wetness, Gojo doesn't hesitate to push one finger in.

And your body eagerly sucks him in. Allows him to thrust his finger in and out repeatedly, making your fingers dig into the cushion, lips parted and shamelessly moaning with hips bucking back, meeting his thrusts. Until he adds another finger, scissors them inside and opens you up.

"Fuck," you hear him breathe out, his hand sneaking from your shoulder blades to your hip, venturing beneath your shirt to caress the exposed skin, "you always sound so pretty. Feel so good."

"Shut up," you scoff at his words, voice laced with disdain, "just–ugh," his fingers curl inside, massaging your walls in harmony with the hand on your hip, tracing tantalizing circles, "ah–just don't–don't talk," and you arch your hips backward, prompting his fingers to delve deeper. Palm completely covering your soaked cunt.

"Don't care," you add when he continues the rhythm. In and out, stretching the limits of your resilience, scissoring to accommodate something far more substantial.

"As you wish," he withdraws. Fingers glistening with your juices. And you can feel the dewy slickness spreading as he toys with your pulsating clit, circling the throbbing bud, causing you to clench around empty air. Every nerve ending in your body awakens, dormant embers being stoked; heat blooming inside.

Then he presses himself against you, hands grasping your shoulder to pull you onto his body as he hovers over you. The close proximity allowing you to feel the hard length of him, thick and pushy, begging for entry.

"Stop teasing," you practically growl at him, an annoyed command laden with unrestrained desire.

"Fine," Gojo lets out a husky huff in response to your impatient plea. Pushing your upper body down, nearly bending you over the plush cushion until your forehead meets the silky surface of his furniture. You can hear the unmistakable sound of him unzipping his own pants, the slide of the zipper seemingly never-ending as your pussy leaks onto your thighs, mind of its own; tugs them down just enough for him to fish out his cock. All hard and swollen, the engorged tip glistening with the telltale evidence of his arousal.

One hand palms your pussy, collecting your juices to spread over his cock. Lube it enough for him to slip inside your awaiting walls easily. Yet he hovers over your entrance, tip kissing the opening before running between your folds. Gojo lets out a sigh upon the long-lost feeling of your wet pussy.

It's been too long.

He wants to savor it. Savor the moment your drenched pussy opens up just for him. Swallows him whole and lock him in, never letting him go.

"Gojo," you push back, hoping that maybe it will cause him to slip in – it doesn't. Instead, the tip of his cock probs at your clit, "fuck me."

"You never shut up, heh," his hand secures the back of your neck, the other guiding his cock to your entrance, feeling you open up around the mushroom head, letting a satisfied moan out upon the feeling.

Gojo doesn't bother. At least he shouldn't, right? It's not like he's your lover. You aren't his paramour no more.

But he does take his time. Every inch a struggle, every second a torture. Until finally you feel yourself split open, the tightest of knots unraveling, and then he's thrusting deep, pushing into you with force. Your body welcomes him, contouring to his shape, embracing him fully. His breath comes out in a rush and you're soon meeting him thrust-for-thrust, hips pushing back.

Blood rushes to your head; bend at an unconventional enough angle that allows him to hit the deepest spots inside you. He pulls back then, his cock easily sliding out of your embrace until only the tip remains inside the cocoon of your warmth. Stretching your inner walls in a way that makes you feel dizzy, mind foggy. Fucked stupid.

Your moans are muffled by the couch cushion, but Gojo pays no attention; his focus solely on chasing his own high, eyes closed to draw your presence out. His thrusts become more powerful and insistent as each one hits its mark with precision.

Your name refuses to leave his lips.

Yet his name sounds like a sacred incantation spilling from your throat.

It makes him push. Hips slamming into yours with enough force to actually send you over the couch's edge; causing you to stumble.

"What the f–"

"Lie down," he commands. Stone-cold and demanding. Your body moves on its own accord as you do what you're told, lying flat on your stomach as his hand guides your body up his couch. Face sinking into the decorative pillows, he lies his weight on top of you without shame. Elbow resting next to your head, fingers tangled in your hair – pushing your face into the pillows.

Slamming his cock back inside, a surprised shriek leaves your lips. His legs on either side of your thighs, one arm holding his upper body slightly off you, the other gripping your hip, fingers biting crescent moons into your flesh.

His breath's hot against your neck, coming out in quick gasps and grunts, the growl in his throat driving you wild and you're not sure how much longer you can take it before you beg for it –

"Fuuck–so tight–ngh–"

His hand is everywhere while yours remain tucked underneath the pillows; nails tracing their way around sensitive skin and curves like a map of pleasure points.

– so you bite your lip. Face flushed against the couch's cushions. Feeling yourself cresting towards the edge. He hitches a breath as your moan’s muffled beneath the pillows, his own rhythm faltering before he plunges deeper.

"M’gettin’ close–"

You can feel the heat radiating from him, sweat dripping down your neck as he takes you higher, presses his forehead against your nape. Heat rises to your face as you feel yourself dripping. Acutely aware of yourself, the slick, shameful squelches that resonate each time Gojo plunges deep inside. Buries himself to the hilt. Pelvis melting with the curve of your ass. Smacks his balls against your thighs.

The air feels thick and stifling as you feel Gojo everywhere. Your entire being consumed by the feverish desire coursing through your veins.

His thrusts become more intense, almost frenzied as he searches for something only he knows and finds it in your body. You're so close now, the pleasure so sweet that it's almost overwhelming.

You swear it feels like an eternity before finally your orgasm rushes over you like an unstoppable tide; overwhelming every single one of your senses as he continues to thrust deep within you. Your entire body quaking beneath him, pulled even closer into him by some invisible force.

Gojo finally lets go with a loud groan and collapses onto your back; leaving him panting heavily against your neck while his cock remains firmly embedded inside of you for a few moments more, painting your walls in translucent white before slowly slipping out with a wet sound akin to pure satisfaction.

You lay there unmoving for some time; eyes closed and lips pressed tight together as if to contain all the pleasure of this moment forevermore in one single solitary heartbeat – before reality comes crashing back in around you both in an instant, making Gojo pull away.

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dark-strangers-art · 6 months

Text

Her Thought -Playtime

Laying naked

Eyes closed

She thought of him

These days

She always thought of him

he was never far

From her thoughts

Her hands traced

the outlines of her body

Nails pressed into her skin

Fingers finding her nipple

pinching

pulling

tugging

Needing to feel

Breaths deepen

Heart beats rises

Yearning

Burning

Longing

As a soft moan

Escapes from open lips

Legs thrown open wantonly

fingers exploring

Engorged lips

wet with excitement

pushing between them

needing to be filled

Hand slaps violently

On what once was her pussy

Now it was His Cunt

Again, and again

Needing the feeling

Only he gives her

More forceful

more and more

inside her

driving them deep

Release would not come

as hard as she tried

it only came for him

Her eyes opened

she saw him watching her

his mouth a faint smile

His hand around his cock

pulling back and spraying his cum

all over her body

Leaning over her

he whispered ..

Cum baby

Her body exploded

Legs shaking

Her body on fire

Burning as he orgasm

consumed her

You are what I crave

he whispered

You are my slut

#dark stranger #my poems #my thoughts #original poems

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mononijikayu · 3 months

Text

demonyo — ryomen sukuna.

For the first time in a long time, you see beyond Sukuna’s stoic exterior, glimpsing the depth of his emotions beneath the surface. It's a revelation that leaves you reeling, realizing just how much he has come to rely on your presence in his life, whether he admits it or not.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Miscarriage, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Miscarriage, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Pseudo-Incest, Adoptive Cousins, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language, Smut, Detailed Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Sexual Foreplay, Sexual Penetration, Consensual Sex;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: demonyo by juan karlos

ko-fi

note: i already pre-planned the writing for this for a while now, but i think the story is about to get worse now that its near its end. three more chapters before my favorite chapter in the series and probably the shortest??? we shall see. anyway, i love you!!! enjoy the story as always~

MUCH HAD CHANGED FOR YOU. But you doubt that you would dare change anything about it. As you released the sigh you held for what seemed like years, your purple eyes seemed to shake as you tried to make sense of your reality. It had been more than ten years since you last saw Sukuna. Ten years since he had left you and your world. Ten years more as mother, wife, clan leader, consort — all the things you had not expected all those years ago. All these things you still were, all these things you suffer to be.

You looked to your side and felt your eyes narrow in a somber manner. You hadn’t left the lord’s chambers in days now. You just could not bear to do it. Not when Suzaku needed you. You sit in your husband’s chambers for days on end, tending to him as he lay there in painful agony. These days, you think your husband is waiting for fall. He stares from his futon with those weary eyes, hoping for that day where the leaves would be dying, just like himself.

You look at him worriedly as you squeezed the water out of the cloth. You turned to him and started to gently press the wet cloth to his body and slowly clean his body, for he is now unable to move. He had good days, where he could sit up well enough to read or eat. But most times, you read reports to him. And your son’s progress in training.

It was hard to see how constrained Suzaku was by the pain and anguish. Most days, it was easier not to look at him. Most days, you wished you could take a moment to process everything. But you knew you couldn’t. You could not leave him to the whims of his pain. Even when he asks you to, you could not. He had been nothing but good to you. He had given you peace, with everything he had done in nearly twenty years of marriage. And even this you were was not enough to repay all he had done for you and your children.

These past ten years have been relatively peaceful for all of you. The war weighed down to skirmishes and occasional battles. The Zenin were not to end their wanting and the Kamo were not one to forget a slight. The Fujiwara had moved from both the Ryomen lands and their own, having been incinerated as a clan by Sukuna.

As you continue to tend to him, memories of Sukuna flood your mind. The last time you saw him, his presence had been a dark shadow over your life. Yet, in the decade that followed, you had found moments of light amidst the darkness. You had rebuilt, you had nurtured, and you had loved fiercely. Hida is back in Ryomen control and over this decade, your leadership has grown the Ryomen back to its power.

But you were not a fool to forget that you now share it in a quiet agreement with Sukuna. These ten years, he had built a shrine on the opposite side of Hida, and people had flocked to him by the hundreds. He had the name after all and that gives him legitimacy across Hida. You knew very well that his Jujutsu….does not compare to anyone. And more than ever, growing powerful every single day.

The agreement with Sukuna, though uneasy, had held. You did not seek him out, and neither did he. You knew better than that as much as he did. He had killed more sorcerers than you could count. And your world of sorcerers would not take to that kindly. They never have. Deviants are shunned. They are nothing but the fallen ones and these days, they whisper about him being the ‘disgraced one’. The remaining Ryomen elders had been glad to get rid of him, yapping about how this saves the clan from ruin. You did not agree with them. Even after all this time. But you knew that you can never take back what was lost. You were no fool. And neither was he.

When you were not in Hida, you were in Gojo lands. Ghosts haunted you, but at the very least you could distract yourself from them. With your husband’s efforts, there could only be peace. And with that peace, your children have grown up well and happy, surrounded by a bubble that keeps them from the worldly affairs that they need not worry over.

Your eldest, Seiryuu, was now four and ten, nearly a man to all that were around him. He had grown taller than ever before. You were certain that he would grow and tower over those around him. His powers had grown over the years, more than ever this past year — obsessively. Masako had grown finely, with her dark hair echoing like shining charcoal. In only ten summers, she had grown to be quite a beautiful tender young girl. You kept her away from Jujutsu a little while longer, but her cursed technique had started to manifest little by little.

You gently wipe your husband’s brow with a damp cloth, feeling the heat of his fever through the fabric.This was a regular occurrence, one that had only increased his pain and discomfort. At first, you were concerned and you still were — but even with your efforts, his fevers would not leave him. This had become a new part of his life.

Suzaku’s once-strong hands now lie limply at his sides, the strength that had carried you through so many battles now drained away. The same hands that had held yours in your hardest times, the hands that had held yours at each birth, the hands that had carried your children. His warm eyes, though clouded with pain, still hold a flicker of the determination that once defined him. You could see his will to live. He does not want to leave yet, you knew. Not until Seiryuu was old enough.

You could only sigh as you returned the damp cloth back into the basin. From the outside, life continues. The sounds of children playing in the distance, the chatter of villagers going about their day, and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze all seem to mock the stillness within these walls. Your husband had lived for those echoes of life when he himself could not get up. He says that it reminds him of when your children were younger. It reminds him to live, to know life.

"Rest some more, husband." you whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. "You must gather your strength. The children miss you.”

You could feel his eyes, though dimming, reflect a deep sense of peace in your words. It has been hard to keep the children away from your husband. You did not want them to see him in pain and he knows that too well too. But the mention of them makes him want to live. It always does. You know he worries about leaving you and the children behind, but you have always been strong. Stronger than you ever thought possible.

As your husband’s breathing grows more labored, you feel the weight of all you have endured together. The battles fought, the tears shed, and the laughter shared. The peace you had enjoyed with your children together. You take a hold of his sullen hands and squeeze it, your tears mingling with the sweat on his skin. You want him to know that you will be here.

"We will be alright, Suzaku." you say, more to reassure yourself than him. "We will be alright."

In the silence that follows, you exchange looks. His ever tender, as it always was.The world outside may continue to change, but within these chambers, time stands still, suspended in what time remains for the two of you. You find solace in this moment. Or at least you can try. The worries of the wily world keep knocking you down to only worry.

But you could not help but worry. You were a mother more than anything else. Your husband’s condition loomed over all of you. And the possibility that he could die any time soon, when your son was still but a boy and without the expertise of his father worried you. And your husband knew that. Much of the consequences of his death would be a blow to you and your children.

A year ago, your perfectly healthy husband had brought your son with him to quell a cursed spirit that was plaguing the region. Your son was excited to be able to put his skills to the test, to make his father proud. Seiryuu was proficient in using his powers enough that he was able to fight against the cursed spirit’s lackeys. However, being overtaken by a flood of other curses, he did not notice his father’s need for aid. And your husband took the curse's full impact. From that moment on, your husband started to decline. Seiryuu had felt nothing but guilt over the matter.

The people of the clan started to whisper about his ability to be the heir. If Seiryuu could not protect his father, how can he protect the clan? The boy with the six-eyes and he could not do his duty, his most important filial duty. Those are their whispers. And it breaks your heart over and over. But your son was only a fourteen-year-old boy. He was still a boy—even if the world saw him as a grown man. And you feared for him.

Factions have started to appear in the Gojo clan, including that of Suzaku’s own cousin. If the time came to fight for your son’s rights, you knew that you could be overwhelmed. The voice in your head started to tempt you to use your powers, whispering that you could defeat all the clans by yourself, with destruction. But you vowed to never do that. You didn’t seek the destruction of all, but peace. The voice laughs at you, telling you that this train of thought will get you killed. You do not reply.

As you tend to your husband, you glance at Seiryuu, standing at the doorway, his shoulders slumped. You could see the boy in him so clearly. He felt that heavy weight of guilt and worry. He looks so much older than his years, burdened by the weight of expectations and the whispers of the clan.

He lowers the tight cloak of those bandages around his eyes. His cerulean eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see the frightened child he truly is, hidden behind the mask of forced maturity. Your husband looks at you and nods at you. You narrow your eyes at him, as though telling him that you could not leave you. But he squeezes your hand. You purse your lips and nod at him. You turned to a servant and smiled at them.

Closing the door behind you, you take your son in your arms to embrace him. He slowly succumbs to your touch. He felt so small in your arms, as though he was not the one who had shaken the world with his birth. He was just a boy, a boy who had so much of his youth ahead of him. And he is robbed of it by the world which does not understand. You kiss the top of his head with tender abandon.

"Mother….I…." he says softly, his voice trembling. "Is Father... will he...?"

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Your father is strong, my son. He fights for us, for you. We must be strong for him too.”

Seiryuu nods, but you can see the doubt in his cerulean blue eyes. He blames himself for his father's condition, and the clan's murmurs only deepen his self-reproach. He does not feel confident in himself, to truly be worthy of his father’s seat. To be worthy of even being his son. You could see it in his eyes. And you hate it. You wish you could shield him from their harsh judgments, but you know that he must face this trial as you have faced your own.

"Remember, my dearest boy," you say, your voice firm but gentle, "you are not alone. We stand together, as a family, as a clan. You will grow stronger, and you will prove them wrong. You are already worthy. Your father has told you that.”

“But mother, I….”

You shake your head at him, looking him in his eyes. You smile. “You are our pride, my son. Always remember that.”

He nods again, more resolute this time, but the worry does not leave his eyes. “I will remember.”

“You must go and get some rest.” You whisper, squeezing his shoulder. “I heard you were up all night trying to master your reversal technique.”

“I am fine, mother.” He insists as he tries to wipe your worry with his smile. “Not entirely exhausted as of yet. I plan to go and continue—”

“I don’t want you to cause yourself hurt.” You interject to him. “I want my son well. Please rest for a while at least. Soothe your mother.”

He purses his lips, almost like a child. He slowly nods. “Alright, mother.”

When he left, you return to your husband’s chambers. You turn back to your husband, sitting down beside him and wiping his brow once more. The voice in your head grows louder, taunting you with promises of power and control. It tells you that with your abilities, you could crush all opposition, and ensure Seiryuu's place as heir beyond any doubt.

But you push the voice away, focusing on your husband and your son. You have vowed to seek peace, not destruction. Even if it means facing overwhelming odds, even if it means standing against the very whispers that threaten your family, you will not falter. You will not give in.

The voice laughs again, mocking your resolve. "This train of thought will get you killed, little fool." it hisses.

You do not reply. Instead, you draw strength from the loyalty you have for your husband and the love you have for your children, from the hope that despite the challenges, you can still find a path to peace. You will stand firm, for them, for the future you believe in. And no matter what the voice says, you will not be swayed.

Suzaku has fallen asleep again.

You place the wet towel away.

You sit patiently, as you always do.

And you pray to the gods for your relief.

IT WAS A NICE DAY OUT. It was one of his good days, and he had been cheerful. Suzaku had enough strength to sit up and talk. When he sat up, he looked at you and smiled. He pointed towards the outside. You worried about the strain on his body. But you could not deny him such pleasure, to explore your home. You hooked his arm around your own as you helped him up. When servants passed you, you refused their help. You could help your husband there. Little by little, you helped him take a walk towards the vast expanse of the koi gardens.

As the two of you strolled among the greenery around the serene waters and the swimming koi, the sun was shining. The sun was beaming like never before. It was a good day, you think. It was not too cold, just warm enough. And your husband was in good spirits. For the first time in a while, you could see life in his eyes once again. The smile on your lips tethered tenderly.

Gojo Suzaku sits down on one of the edges of the benches. You gently hold him as you too lower your body and sit beside him. You sighed as you let the wind kiss your face with great abandon. When you turn to your side, your husband smiles at you too. But the look in his eyes tells you that he can feel it—that he would soon die. You want to tell him not to leave you. You want to tell him that he would live a long life. But you know that he would only laugh.

Your husband then coughs, the sound harsh and grating. You look at him with concern, and he smiles at you, a weary but warm expression. He waves you off as your eyes dilate in panic. He squeezes your hand and tries to settle you back into a calm.

“You worry too much.” His first words echoed in your head. It had been so long since you had heard his words be this clear.

“I can’t help it.” You admitted to him as you let out a sigh. “I am your wife. And a wife worries about her husband.”

"Don't worry, my love," he says softly, his voice still tinged with humor despite the gravity of his words. “I’m not feeling too bad.”

“Your coughing is still painful to you.”

“Not too bad.” He says, downplaying it with a smile. “It’s not bad.”

You glare at him. “You are a pathetic liar.”

He laughs in reply. “It is not a lie. It’s not bad, because you’re here.”

You couldn’t help but shrug at him. “Nearly twenty years of marriage and you have not changed.”

He smiles. "Has it been that long?”

You hummed to him as the wind brushed against you. “Hm, it has been.”

“It feels only like yesterday when we got married.”

You smiled at him. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Silence enveloped the two of you, a heavy shroud that settled between you like an unspoken barrier. Suzaku's gaze lingered on the horizon, his eyes following the graceful flight of a heron as it soared effortlessly through the sky. The sight seemed to capture his attention, drawing him into a moment of quiet contemplation amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling around you both. The heron wanted to be free.

In the stillness of the night, the sound of the heron's wings slicing through the air echoed softly, a soothing melody that provided a brief respite from the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. It was as if time itself had paused, allowing you to simply be, to exist in this moment of serene tranquility.

“I've had a good life, thanks to you."

You shake your head, refusing to accept his resignation. "Husband, please. You mustn't talk like that. You'll be with us for many more years."

He gently squeezes your hand, his touch as familiar and comforting as ever. "We both know that's not true. But it's alright. I’ve come to terms with it."

A lump forms in your throat as you watch him, the man who has been your rock and your partner through so much. "I can't lose you, not yet." you whisper, your voice trembling.

"I know you have worries about the growing divide in the Gojo clan," he says, his voice softer now, "and I worry that, unlike all these years before, I cannot be as strong as before to protect the three of you from it.”

"You have done more than enough, Suzaku." you reply, your voice firm with conviction. "You always have."

He pauses, looking out over the garden, his eyes distant with memories. "Do you remember, years ago, when I told you that Sukuna and I spoke?”

You nod, the memory bringing a bittersweet smile to your lips. “You never told me what you talked about.”

“Sukuna told me to be more honest about my feelings for you.” He reveals, watching your face contort into a puddle of emotions. “And all this time, I should have been more honest with you.”

Suzaku reaches out, brushing your loose hair back behind your ear. "I love you, wife." he says, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than the world knows, more than you do."

"I love you too. I hope you know." you respond, your voice breaking.

He smiles, shaking his head gently. "I know you will never love me as much as you do Sukuna. But I’m more than satisfied with the wonderful life we have had together. Nearly twenty years of a happy marriage—I am thankful for all of it. Because you took care of me, accepted me for what I was. You loved a man whole, made more of his life than anything else.”

You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your cheek. Your eyes narrow, their color deepening to an even more intense shade of purple. "You’ve given me a life I never thought possible, Suzaku. I’ve cherished every moment."

He closes his eyes, savoring the closeness, the tranquility of the garden surrounding you. "Promise me you'll continue to be strong, for Seiryuu, for our family."

"I promise," you whisper, your voice thick with unshed tears.

Suzaku opens his eyes, looking at you with a depth of love and understanding that transcends words. "Thank you," he murmurs. "For everything."

You stay like that for a while, leaning into each other, drawing strength from the bond you share. The koi swim lazily in the pond, their movements a gentle reminder of the cycles of life and the beauty that can be found even in moments of sadness. You sighed as you leaned against him. He smiles as he lays a kiss upon your cheek.

As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the garden, you and Suzaku stay that way for as long as you could. The two of you just enjoy the silence that remains in the veil of the golden light. You were certain that the weight of the future looms large, but in this moment, you find solace seeing him like this. You banish the world from everything else. You just sit there with him. You take in what remains before it’s too late. And with that, you fell asleep beside him.

The next day, it was quite a surprise to you. Gojo Suzaku was still as he was yesterday, his frailty more pronounced in the morning light. You sit up beside him, holding his hand as he gathers the strength to speak. You wanted to say something, but you could see it, how he wanted to say something to you. And so you sat there, silent and let him gather his strength to say it all out loud.

“You must leave for Hida tomorrow.”

Your face scrunches into confusion. “Why must we leave for Hida–”

“Live on after me, wife.” Suzaku says softly, his voice filled with a quiet determination. “Take care of the children, and most of all, find happiness when I am gone.”

Tears well up in your eyes, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “Don’t talk like that, Suzaku. You'll still be with us for a long time yet.”

He shakes his head gently, a sad smile on his lips. “I’ve made plans to ensure that Seiryuu will be my successor. No one will challenge him.”

“It’s not as easy as you say, husband.” you reply, your concern evident. “The clan is divided. There are factions, and Seiryuu is still so young.”

“It will be easy.” Suzaku insists, squeezing your hand with the little strength he has left. “Leave it all to me. I’ve arranged everything.”

“Suzaku, please—”

"You don’t have to worry," he says with a reassuring smile. "I’ve taken care of everything."

"But whatever you’re planning, I cannot accept it." you reply, your voice firm. "We have to do it together. As we always have.”

Suzaku sighs and places a gentle kiss upon your head. "This is my last wish, you know." he says softly. "Please, let me do as I please."

Your lips fall into a line, wanting to argue, but the earnestness in his eyes stops you. You nod reluctantly, tears threatening to spill. "If that is what you wish." you whisper. "I’ll let you."

He smiles, relief washing over his features. "Thank you. I will miss you, but it’s time for you to return to Hida with the children. I don’t want you to see me die."

The finality of his words stabs at your heart, but you know he’s trying to spare you pain. "You will not die, I refuse to believe it….I…”

"Please, wife. Do as I instruct." he interrupts gently. "Do it for the peace of my soul.”

You nod again, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. He pulls you into a tender embrace, holding you close as if to memorize the feel of you one last time. You stayed like that until you could not anymore. The rest of the day, you had ordered quietly for your son and daughter to be informed and your entire household to be readied for the journey.

You were not ready to lose your husband, not like this. You watched him laugh all night, telling little quips and singing little tunes despite his coughing fits. He wrote many things that night, but he refused to let you see them. Yet you were certain that he was preparing himself for what may come. You bit your lower lip, as you struggled to put away those tears from pouring through your eyes. You stilled yourself as you retired to your chambers. You cry and cry until there is nothing left to let out from your purple eyes.

When you emerged in the morning, your servants had tried to not let their faces notice your devastation. You dressed in your finest junnihitoe for him. You put all of your most beautiful suberakashi rested upon the foundation of your long dark hair. Your hiōgi was the most elegant of cypress wood, painted in beautiful herons flying over the river. Your husband had made it for you all those years ago, and it was your favorite. You wanted to look good for him. You wanted to make sure that he knows that he is leaving you well. That you would be fine, even if you would not truly be. You wanted him to know.

He was assisted by his servant in standing as he met you and the children out in the courtyard. Seiryuu stood tall and proud before his father. He was dressed in his finest kariginu bearing the Gojo clan symbols against the heron of the Ryomen. His little sister stood beside him, diligently in her silk kimono covered with herons standing above the Gojo family crest.

The two of them lowered their heads as you passed them by. They seemed somber, but confident. But you had expected that. They loved their father the most in the world. And to leave him in such a state, they did not like it. But they adore you just as much and they will not let you go on your own. Not when you needed them too. You let go of your servant’s hand as you smiled at your husband.

The children and you say your goodbyes to Suzaku as you all prepare to return to Hida. You watch your husband bid farewell to your son and daughter for what you know will be the last time. He embraces them gently, whispering words of love and encouragement, his eyes filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow. Seiryuu tries to be strong, but you can see the tears he struggles to hold back. Your daughter clings to Suzaku, her small frame shaking with sobs.

When it is your turn, you take his hands in yours and press a kiss to them, feeling the warmth and strength that has always comforted you. Your eyes start to water, and you look up at him, seeing your own pain reflected in his eyes. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that escapes.

“You must take care to be well on your travels.” Your husband says to you tenderly, more than he had ever before. You smiled at him. “And make sure you will wear the furs I have arranged for you.”

“I will not forget them.” You promised him. You took his hand on your own. “You must take care of yourself. I won’t be able to do it for you.”

He laughs as he lifts your hand into his and places a kiss upon its palm. “I will always strive to please my wife. I shall.”

Your heart broke at those words. Because you knew that he would not. Not when his plan was in full motion. “I shall see you when I return.”

Gojo Suzaku sends a tight smile at you, one that was all too knowing. “I shall see you too.”

You look towards his hand, eyeing the matching rings upon both your fingers. You lifted your eyes, feeling them water. He squeezes your hand even tighter, as though to tell you to not spill your tears here. Not at this moment. Not in your farewell. You took a deep breath, as though to gather yourself fully.

"I love you, wife. Truly." he whispers, his voice breaking. "More than words can say."

“I love you, with everything in me." you manage to choke out, your tears flowing freely now.

"Be safe," he whispers, his voice breaking.

He leans in and kisses your cheek one last time, a tender and lingering farewell. You can feel the finality of his touch, the weight of all the unspoken words between you. "I wish you a good journey," he says softly, "and that you will be happy."

You slowly nodded at him, your lip pursing into a tight line. “I will.”

He steps back, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "I shall see you next, wife. One day.”

With a heavy heart, you turn to leave, guiding Masako towards her own litter. Suzaku got atop his horse and turned to look at his father and bowed his head. Masako sat upon her litter and glanced towards her father and waved. As you step inside your own litter, you glance back at Suzaku one last time. He stands there, a faint smile on his lips, his eyes following you with a mixture of love and resignation.

The door of the litter closes, and as it starts to move, the reality of the situation crashes down upon you. The tears you had held back now flow freely, and you start to sob, your shoulders shaking with the force of your grief. The children, sensing your pain, huddle close to you, their own tears mingling with yours.

This was the last time you would see your husband. The man who had been your rock, your partner, your love. As the litter carries you away from him, you clutch at the memories of your time together, vowing to honor his last wishes. The journey ahead seems daunting, but you draw strength from the love you shared, knowing that it will guide you through the days to come.

Suzaku’s smile was his last gift to you.

It will always linger in your mind for years.

When you step into Hida, you fall to your knees.

The years of peace had disappeared in an instant.

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED. You have not slept day after day. You could not, when there is so much more to be done. Your rest can wait. It had been more than two months now since the Gojo clan was plunged into civil war. You have been raising forces in Hida, ones that you promised to lead personally. For now, your trusted Mikoto Masaomi leads the vanguard that thrusts against possible attacks.

It still has not hit you that you are now a widow. The news reaches you swiftly upon your arrival in Hida: The departed lord of the Gojo, Gojo Suzaku had used all his remaining strength to kill his cousins, their entire bloodline, and all those who conspired against him. The rest of those bloody traitors had gone and ran amok, but soon enough, your husband had died alone. You were certain that his body had been exhausted from all of it. And in the aftermath, Those treacherous letchers had usurped everything. Those loyal to your son had begun gathering in Hida, planning an offense to reclaim what rightfully belonged to Seiryuu.

The young rightful lord of the Gojo. young Gojo Seiryuu had been most inconsolable about his father's death. He refused to see anyone, even you. Guilt and grief gnawed at the young Gojo lordling, and he withdrew further into himself with each passing day. Masako, your daughter, continued to ask for her father, crying bitter tears when you had no answer for her.

You grieved your husband as much as you could, but there was no time to rest. There was no space for you to show your grief too clearly. Not when there is a need to move. If you do not move further, you could lose everything. And even more, your children could lose their lives. You would not let that happen. Not over your dead body.

As you sit in your chambers, the weight of your responsibilities pressing heavily on your shoulders. You write over and over to all your allies, trying to gather their support. The Inumaki as always were loyal to the Gojo and the Ryomen. You were seeking out the Azuma, another vassal of the Gojo, but there has yet to be a response. You could feel your head hurt. The voices in your head whispering the thoughts of a devil. But you would not succumb. You cannot. But then, a knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts. You turn your head, seeing long dark hair peer through the doors.

“Mother?” Masako’s small voice trembles from the other side.

“Daughter, it is late.” You whisper at her.

“I…I cannot sleep.” Her little voice admits to you tenderly.

You sighed and smiled at her. “Come in, little one.”

The door opens, and Masako enters, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She clutches a worn, little doll to her chest, her small frame trembling. You brush away the stray hairs that mar her eyes. She sniffs as she looks at you and you could not help but let out a small smile at her. She’s been having nightmares, you remembered. It hasn’t been easy on her lately, more so with those nightmares come in reminders of her own late father.

“Mother, where is father?” she asks again, her voice breaking. “Why won’t he come back?”

You swallow hard, forcing back your own tears as you hold her closer to you. “Masako, my darling girl, your father has gone to a place where we cannot follow. But he is watching over us, always.”

“But I miss him, mother.” she sobs, burying her face in your shoulder.

“I miss him too,” you whisper, holding her close. “But we must be strong. For him, and for Seiryuu.”

As you comfort Masako, a servant appears at the door, bowing respectfully. “My lady, the loyalists have gathered in the main hall. They await your instructions.”

You nod, rising to your feet and taking Masako’s hand. “Thank you. I will be there shortly.”

The servant leaves, and you turn to Masako, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “Stay here, my love. I must attend to something important.”

Masako nods reluctantly, her grip tightening on her toy. “Please come back soon, Mother.”

“I will,” you promise, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

In the main hall, the loyalists look to you with a mixture of hope and desperation. They need guidance, a plan, a way to reclaim their home and secure Seiryuu’s rightful place as the head of the Gojo clan.

“Thank you all for gathering here,” you begin, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. “We face a grave threat, but we are not without hope. My husband, lord Gojo Suzaku, sacrificed everything to protect this clan. Now, it is our duty to honor his legacy and fight for Seiryuu.”

A murmur of agreement ripples through the room, the tension palpable. The loyalists, a mix of seasoned warriors and young recruits, shift uneasily on their feet. Their faces are a tapestry of determination, fear, and hope. Some exchange glances, silently communicating their resolve and apprehensions. The flickering torchlight casts dancing shadows on the walls, adding to the somber atmosphere.

As you scan the room, you see familiar faces—men and women who have stood by your side through countless battles and hardships. Their loyalty is unwavering, but the uncertainty of the future weighs heavily on everyone. The silence that follows is thick, filled with unspoken fears and the gravity of the situation.

An older warrior, his hair streaked with silver, steps forward. His eyes are steely with conviction, but there is a softness in his gaze as he looks at you. "My lady, we have followed Suzaku through many trials. We will follow you and Seiryuu now. We are ready to fight for what is rightfully ours."

His words act as a catalyst, breaking the tension. Others nod, some murmuring agreements more audibly now. The room seems to draw in a collective breath, preparing for the arduous journey ahead.

“We must be strategic,” you continue. “We will reclaim what is ours, but we must do so wisely. Seiryuu will need our strength, our unity. Together, we can overcome this.”

One of the loyalists steps forward, his expression resolute. “We are ready to follow you, my lady. What are your orders?”

You take a deep breath, drawing on the strength Suzaku always saw in you. “Prepare our defenses and gather intelligence on the usurpers’ movements. We will strike when the time is right. For now, we must fortify Hida and protect Seiryuu.”

As plans are set into motion, you feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. You must be hopeful. You felt your age echo throughout your bones. It is as if you had aged a thousand years. As you walked towards the outer halls, you crossed your arms. You should have brought a padded haori. But you wanted to have this moment. You wanted to enjoy your lonesomeness. You wanted to have a moment to accept the reality you now faced.

You could feel the chilly air stab through your skin like sharp needles. There is no time to rest, but in the quiet moments, you allow yourself to grieve. In this moment, you let yourself take a deep breath and still yourself to your reality. to remember the love and strength that Suzaku gave you. And with each passing day, you steel yourself for the battles ahead, determined to see Seiryuu restored to his rightful place. Looking at the far away moon, you pray that you could be successful. That you will succeed in honoring Suzaku’s memory and fight for your family’s future.

You blink as you still yourself. You were wondering if you were seeing an illusion. You stayed as you were as he observed you with those dark red irises. You purse your lips as your arms crossed against your chest, as though to shield yourself. You knew he would never hurt you. But you wanted to protect yourself. You were the most vulnerable you ever were. Before you could catch yourself, you found him standing before you. You lift your head to observe him. He has not changed. He still looked as he did years ago. He has not aged.

He does not say a word to you as he sheds his haori off his prodigious body. Slowly, his four arms placed it around your shoulders. It was too big on you, you think. It covered almost all of you as a whole. But it was warm, as he always was. Sukuna watched as your hands dragged it closer to you, as though to secure it in place.

“You’re foolish to not bring a cover for yourself.” Those were the first words he had for you in these many years.

"Why have you come?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Even a runaway scum can come home when he misses home." he replies, his tone carrying a hint of melancholy. “Is that wrong?”

"You were never a runaway scum." you say softly, looking into his eyes. "Just a lost soul."

A pregnant silence passes between you, filled with unspoken emotions and shared history. The air is thick with memories, both bitter and sweet, that hang heavily in the space between you. The faint sound of the night—a distant owl hooting, the rustle of leaves in the wind—provides a stark contrast to the silent conversation unfolding in your hearts.

Your eyes meet, and in that moment, so much is conveyed without a single word. The pain of separation, the lingering affection, the regrets of things left unsaid. Sukuna's gaze is intense, yet there's a softness there that you've rarely seen. It's as if he's laying bare his soul, exposing the vulnerability he keeps so well hidden.

You remember the first time you met, the awkward yet exhilarating beginnings of your friendship. The battles fought side by side, the nights spent in quiet companionship, the stolen glances and fleeting touches that spoke of something deeper. All these memories swirl around you, forming an invisible bond that time and distance have never truly severed.

Sukuna shifts slightly, his posture stiff yet somehow more open than before. You can almost hear the words he's not saying, the apologies, the admissions of guilt and longing. Your own heart aches with the weight of unexpressed feelings. You want to tell him everything—how you missed him, how his absence left a void that nothing else could fill, how despite everything, you never stopped caring.

But the silence holds you captive, a barrier of fear and uncertainty. What if these words break the fragile peace between you? What if they open old wounds that have barely begun to heal?

Sukuna breaks the silence, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You turn to face him fully, searching his face. "Do you mean it?"

He sighs, his gaze unwavering. "I did not like your husband, but he took care of you. And for me, that was the most important thing."

Your eyes fill with fresh tears at his words, the sincerity in them undeniable. "Thank you." you say, your voice trembling. "It means a lot to hear you say that."

Silence passes between the two of you. Tears pass through your eyes in an outburst, almost like the heightening tides of the seas in a storm.

Sukuna reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. "You've been through so much. More than anyone should have to endure."

"You've been gone for so long," you say, your voice cracking. "And now everything is falling apart. The clan is in chaos, Seiryuu is lost in his grief, and Masako cries every night for her father."

You sigh wearily, taking a good look at Sukuna for the first time in a long time. He stands there, the same as you remember, unchanged by time. Despite everything, you manage a small smile. "You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you."

He tilts his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Jujutsu does have quite a lot of mysteries."

"You look as you did years ago," he says, his voice softer than usual.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Come up with a better lie, Sukuna. I continue to age, but you do not. You’ll outlive me soon enough."

For the first time, you see a flicker of emotion in Sukuna’s eyes. His usual mask of indifference slips, revealing a vulnerability you had never witnessed before. The realization that perhaps he does not think you could ever truly die and leave his life completely lingers in the air, unspoken but palpable.

It hurts him to see you like this. But he cannot let you know that. You would carry that weight with you and he does not want that. As he looked at you, he could see the life that he lives for. The moonlight shone all around you with a beautiful gleam. Nearly twenty years had passed and in all those years that grew within your human flesh, there will always be the soul he had fallen in love with. You were easily recognizable. And he would always choose you over the world.

There were times where Sukuna thought that you were just a pure creature who fell from the heavens and was lost in hell with him. Even after all this time, even as you had grown older, you still wanted to meet him. You would never shun him. Even if he chooses to stay away, you would let him return here, in this paradise.

Even if he tried to lead you out of it, you would never leave. The demon he is, he could never escape his love for you either. as much as you would never escape your love for him. Over and over, he believes it as much as you probably do. He will always fall in love with you over and over again.

He looks away for a moment, composing himself. "You are stronger than you think, you know." he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out and place a hand on his arm, a small smile on your lips. "And you, Sukuna, are not as invincible as you believe."

He meets your gaze again, the intensity in his eyes softened by a hint of something deeper—regret, perhaps, or a fear of losing the one connection he has left.

"I’ve missed you." he admits, the words heavy with unspoken emotions.

"And I’ve missed you." you reply, your voice tender.

You smile at him like you used to, a gesture both familiar and foreign after all this time. It's a smile tinged with a hint of nostalgia, a softening of the edges that have formed between you over the years of separation. In that moment, the weight of the past seems to lift, leaving only the echo of what once was.

Your smile is a silent invitation, a bridge across the chasm that has grown between you. It speaks of shared memories, of laughter and camaraderie, of moments that time has not yet erased. It's a reminder of the connection you once shared, a glimmer of hope that perhaps it's not too late to reclaim what was lost.

For Sukuna, your smile is like a balm to his wounded soul. It's been so long since he's seen that smile directed at him, so long since he's felt the warmth of your affection. It stirs something deep within him, a longing that he thought he had buried long ago. In that fleeting moment, he allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could go back to how they used to be.

As he returns your smile, there's a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely lets show. It's a silent admission of the myriad emotions swirling within him—regret, longing, hope. In that shared moment, you both let go of the barriers that have kept you apart, if only for a moment.

The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. It's a moment frozen in time, a brief respite from the chaos of your lives. And in that moment, as you smile at each other like you used to, you both know that no matter what the future holds, this connection between you will endure.

"You’ll outlive me soon enough," you say, the words laced with a hint of jest, but the weight of their truth hangs heavily on your heart. You don’t say it out loud, though. Instead, you offer him a gentle smile, a feeble attempt to alleviate the tension that simmers between you. “Time touches everything, but you, it would seem.”

"Don't say that," he whispers, his voice barely audible but laced with a hint of desperation.

You pause, taken aback by the raw emotion in his tone. It's a rare moment of vulnerability from Sukuna, a crack in the facade he wears so meticulously. You meet his gaze, seeing something akin to fear flicker in his eyes—fear of losing you, fear of facing a future without your presence.

The contrast between your aging form and his eternal youth is a constant reminder of the passage of time, of the inevitability of mortality. It's a bitter truth that you both silently acknowledge, yet neither dares to confront head-on.

Perhaps he has never truly considered the possibility of you leaving him, of your life coming to an end while his continues on unchanged. The thought is both comforting and terrifying, a reminder of the fragility of your mortal existence in contrast to his immortal nature.

As the weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air, you reach out, tentatively placing a hand on his arm. It's a silent gesture of reassurance, a reminder that even as time marches on and lives change, your connection remains unbroken.

“You will live a long life, I am certain.”

He looks at you, something unreadable in his gaze. "I don’t care about that. I care that you are with me now.”

"For as long as I can be, do not be greedy." you reply softly, as though telling him off. "But someday, I won’t be."

His expression hardens slightly, a defense mechanism against the pain your words bring. "I won’t let that happen." he says, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might make it true.

"You can’t stop time, Sukuna. Never." you say gently, turning to him with a small smile.

"You were right," Sukuna finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. But he wishes you weren’t. He wishes he could change the inevitable, alter the course of fate so that he could keep you with him always. In that moment, he longs to lock away the world, to shield you from the passage of time and the cruelty of mortality. Even after all this time, his desire to be with you burns as fiercely as ever. But deep down, he knows that you would never allow it.

Silence once more envelops your world, a heavy shroud that settles between you. It's a silence pregnant with unspoken truths and unfulfilled desires, a reminder of the chasm that separates your two worlds. Despite the ache in his heart, Sukuna knows that he cannot defy the laws of nature, cannot change the fundamental truths that govern your existence.

And so, he remains silent, his thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of longing and resignation. He knows that even as he yearns to keep you by his side, to hold onto you with a desperation born of centuries of solitude, he must accept that some things are beyond his control. Your mortality is one such thing, a barrier that he cannot hope to overcome no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

In that moment, as you stand together beneath the moonlit sky in silence, Sukuna realizes that his love for you is both a blessing and a curse. He knows that one day, it will make him feel worse. More so when you are gone. It would fill him with a warmth and a joy that he has not known all his life, yet it also brings him anguish and a despair he had known all his life — threatening to consume him whole.

Sukuna's gaze doesn't waver, his determination unwavering. "I may not be under your command anymore," he replies, his voice low and steady, "but that doesn't mean I can't help you."

You pause, considering his words carefully. Despite the years that have passed and the distance that now separates you, Sukuna's offer of assistance stirs something within you—a flicker of hope in the darkness of uncertainty. It was tempting. But you know you cannot. He does not belong to you anymore.

"I appreciate the offer, Sukuna," you say, your voice tinged with gratitude, "but this is something I must face on my own."

He steps closer, his expression unwavering. “Even if you say that, I can never change when it comes to you. I only ever think about you. And any threat to you—”

A sad smile touches your lips as you interject. “Sukuna, you must free yourself from me before it’s too late. I’m a lost cause, a mortal with fleeting time. Don’t saddle yourself with someone like me.”

Sukuna's expression softens, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes. He reaches out, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before gently cupping your cheek. "You're not a lost cause," he murmurs, his voice tender yet tinged with resignation. "And I could never think of you as such."

Your heart aches at his words, knowing the truth behind them. Despite the depth of his affection, despite the bond that still ties you together, you cannot deny the vast differences between you—differences that cannot be bridged no matter how much you may wish otherwise.

Taking his hands in yours, you look at him earnestly. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

His grip tightens slightly, a rare show of vulnerability. “I’ll always be with you, on earth and in hell. Anywhere. I shall follow you.”

You turn to him as you blinked. You felt your lips tremble into a laugh. “You will truly be cursed to love me, Sukuna.”

“I know.” He responds nonchalantly, with a shrug.

“And you do not care?”

“Not in the slightest.”

You squeeze his hands for a moment, as though conveying a message that words cannot express. His gaze meets yours, and you hold his four eyes with your gleaming purple haze. “In my next life, I pray that we never meet again, so that you are free of me.”

For a moment, he stands silent, the weight of your words sinking in. The air around you is heavy with the gravity of your parting, the unspoken farewell hanging between you like a veil of sorrow. Sukuna's expression is unreadable, a mixture of longing and resignation playing across his features.

As the silence stretches on, you can feel the weight of his unspoken response, a silent acknowledgment of your wishes. It's a bittersweet moment, filled with the pain of goodbye and the hope of new beginnings.

Finally, Sukuna breaks the silence, his voice barely a whisper. "That is a cruel wish."

Your heart aches at his response, knowing the truth behind his words. It's a cruel wish indeed, to ask for separation from someone you care for so deeply. Yet, it's a sacrifice you feel compelled to make, for his sake as much as your own.

Sukuna's voice, barely above a whisper, echoes through the quiet space between you. It's laced with a hint of sadness, a silent acknowledgment of the pain of your parting. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between honoring your wishes and the longing to remain by your side.

For a moment, you're lost in the weight of his gaze, the depth of emotion swirling within his four eyes. It's a silent plea, a desperate desire to defy fate and rewrite the script of destiny. But deep down, you know that some things are beyond your control, beyond even the power of a curse.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the night breeze. "But it's the only way."

With those words hanging in the air like a lament, you turn away, the ache of goodbye settling heavy in your heart. As you walk away, the weight of Sukuna's unspoken response lingers in the air like a haunting melody, a reminder of the bond that will forever tie you together, no matter how far apart you may be.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the night breeze. "But it's the only way."

With those words hanging in the air like a lament, you removed his haori and returned it to him. He moves, as though to argue but you turn away without another word.The ache of goodbye settling heavy in your heart. As you walk away, the weight of Ryomen Sukuna's unspoken response lingers in the air like a haunting melody, a reminder of the bond that will forever tie you together, no matter how far apart you may be.

Soon enough the winter snows fall.

And you will be cold all over again.

You think of his warmth all over again.

And hope it keeps your sorrows away.

facts about the chapter

i always knew that gojo suzaku was going to die, i just didn't know when he would die. i only thought about killing him when i nded up building the story to this point.

hiromi (you)'s purple eyes continue to turn brighter because the closer you are to the gods, the more the power is there. the more they're brighter. it's why its lilac unlike genmei (also you)'s darker shades.

also, the more you're closer to the gods, the more you are less likely to be bullied by the voices in your head. hiromi only has brief moments where she gets bullied off by the gods because they actually like her unlike genmei.

hiromi is at this point 41 - 42 years old, sukuna is 39 - 40 years old. he stopped aging years ago because he uses his cursed technique to slow down his ageing.

at this point in heian era, seiryuu as a fourteen year old would be considered of age but hiromi (you) really don't think that he's old enough to know what to do and hiromi (you) wants to shield him from all of it.

seiryuu practiced a lot of the reversal techniques that satoru learned years ago. just like satoru, he thinks that the biggest pain in the ass is learn it. seiryuu figured out red and blue later in life and theorized that it's possible to merge them.

hiromi (you)'s current heir to the ryomen name is masako. masako has been under instruction to learn how to be the future ryomen clan leader but she's not interested in it.

the azuma clan is a oc clan under the gojo my friend has made and we sometimes talk about it in like roleplays and i wanted to give a nod to my friend cause their ocs are really cool

it's a common theme between the people who inherit hiromi (you)'s cursed technique to die young because of how much toll it takes on the body to exist. the one in between hiromi and genmei died when she was sixteen, trying to kill off a zenin clan head who tried to subjugate mahoraga.

the upcoming chapter happens in between one or two years, the next chapter is a hundred years later and the last happens in shibuya. its gonna spoil stuff for us and them, but well after this, i have to write us and them.

upcoming chapter also reveals hiromi (you) and genmei (you)'s domain expansion and why both hold back using it in the first place.

next chapter, the family tree of the ryomen will be revealed. this includes all of hiromi's children and other family members. i've kept it from people long enough, so im excited for that too.

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