lunaewriting

[lunaewriting]

Under The Same Name: Gojo Satoru x Reader

a/n: IM BACK FINALLY. sorry for the hiatus but its finally semi edited... here's the long-awaited smut. i hope its satisfactory I'm a bit rusty I wont lie:( thank you so much for the support regardless^^ I hope you enjoy<3 

chapter 10 of Suffocation: Gojo Satoru x Reader but can be read as stand-alone!

warnings: shameless romantic smut

∘∙∘☾𖤓∘∙∘

Would it have ever been possible for you to predict this moment? If given the chance, even a few weeks sooner, would you have loved Gojo Satoru as much as you did now?

Your heart screamed yes. Not just once, but repeatedly. And that was the only confirmation you needed. All you wanted to think about was the feeling of Gojo’s body against yours. The tranquility you felt laying beside him, satisfied to know all your worries fled from his presence alone. His touch, his taste, his love.

It was clear now that Gojo did not only love you, but he understood you. Every part of you—the good and the bad. Your flaws and your strengths. But even your flaws seemed only as intolerable as your weakest, most timid kisses that always left him wanting more. With every breath, he craved you near. And you also understood him, possibly the only person that did. It was a deep and unique, unconditional type of love that he’d been searching for his entire life.

You were always leaving him wanting more. But no, not this time. Neither of you needed convincing. It was perfect. This moment was. And now Gojo finally had you truly and utterly alone. In his apartment, leading you to his bed. It was feverish, so passionate and ardent. A gift from the gods, the ancestors, or whoever was gazing upon the two of you.

All that could be heard were soft whines and moans, zippers sliding open and clothes being torn off. A new sense of urgency settled in your being the second you saw Gojo's soul, and you needed him badly. All of him, everything, and more. There was no need to waste any more time.

Gripping his shirt tightly in your fist, you helped Gojo tug it over his head as you kissed him, only breaking apart momentarily to get rid of the fabric. Even though you’d already seen him bare, the sight of his sculpted muscles always seemed to take your breath away. Your eyes grazed over the perfect knoll of his biceps, his muscular forearms, and the blue veins that subtly contrasted through his snow-white skin.

Despite his power, the way he held you unraveled your entire being. There was no need to classify it as submission; you willingly shared yourself, body, and soul with the strongest sorcerer of the modern day. A man who had done everything to protect you and would continue to do so until the day he took his dying breath.

You were crazed, whimpering into each kiss, desperate for more, yearning for his contact and love.

“Are you sure?” Gojo mumbled against your lips, leaning down over you with care, unable to restrain himself from fondling your still-clothed breasts. He’d made what he wanted clear, and your entire being agreed.

“Please.” You let out a breathy response, his touch on your chest causing you to inhale sharply. “I need you.”

“Promise me you’re not hurt-“ he rushed out into the crook of your neck, trying to resist your desperate advances, even if his were the same, sucking on your neck as if he would never be able to again.

“I promise!” you whined. “You came just in time.”

“You would have been just fine without me.” His breath fanned down your neck, his fingers curling under your shirt, where he slowly beckoned you to raise your arms above your head.

“No,” you whimpered. “You give me strength.”

For a second, Gojo paused with your shirt in his hands, so awestruck by your words. It was as if you knew every part of him, exactly what he needed to hear before he even thought about it. Even though you had seen his soul, a part of him knew you were still holding back.

You also wanted to hear those sweet words of affirmation; you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you, realizing such a blessing within the moment you met but knowing how ludicrous it could be.

With you, Gojo didn't need to be the strongest. He could finally surrender his soul with an equal, knowing you would be there to satisfy his undying craving. You were his blessing and his weakness, able to satiate the hunger inside of him—an oasis in the middle of the desert.

“And you are the woman who owns my heart," he responded mirthfully, tossing your shirt to the floor behind him.

Flustered, you began to pull away, but Gojo chased your lips with his and devoured you once again.

With a hunger that seared your skin, Gojo ravished your neck with fervent kisses, trailing down your collarbone with his tongue and back up to your jawline. “Please let me have you,” he mumbled against the supple skin of your neck, almost causing you to lose all control.

“I-I’m yours…” you whispered, trying to blindly follow his lips until they united with yours. That kiss was the deepest you’d ever felt, so deep that he led you onto your back, snaking his way in between your knees until they instinctively wrapped around his waist.

“Promise?” Gojo faltered even as he slid your panties down your leg, acting as if you still hadn’t given him confirmation, as if you hadn't already been in a position like this for him, so eager and begging. Even looking at your bare legs, a glimpse of your panties, was sending him into a spiral.

For a second, you did wonder if what you were doing was right, if it was too fast or rash, but every fiber of your being absolutely rebelled against it. Your soul craved him—it needed him. Few people on this earth would ever be able to understand the power of soul-binding… but you did. The second you glimpsed his face, you knew. Gojo’s touch ignited a fire within you like no other. Just the action of him undressing you, so teasingly slow, was enough to make you squirm with desire.

“I promise,” you whimpered, teary-eyed, desperate, eager—completely and utterly his. Gojo looked so handsome between your legs, desperate to ravish you, to claim you as his. Almost in a trance, he pressed his finger against your sopping clit. Your yearning for him panged so harshly that it came in a sudden wave from your stomach to your core—etching a gasp from your lips from one touch alone.

“Gonna come for me again like last time?” he whispered before pressing a tender kiss on your inner thigh, his forearms curling around your waist to drag you to the edge of the bed. It seemed like he was in a trance as his blue eyes studied your intimacy, desperate to worship this moment, to worship you and your body, unlike any man before him.

Looking up at you through heavy-lidded, lustful eyes, Gojo’s tongue finally lapped against your slit before you could manage a reply.

A groan of satisfaction vibrated against your core, as Gojo’s white eyelashes fluttered in approval. How desperate he was, how sloppy, but it worked. It worked too well, and you were already coming undone from how gentle he was with your clit, the smooth circles of his tongue edging you closer and closer, opening you up and preparing you for the utmost pleasure.

“Fuckkkk…” Gojo drawled, feeling your clit quiver against his movements. And when he tore his eyes away from it to glimpse your face, he was satisfied. Deep down, he would have been satisfied with a kiss, but both of you needed and deserved this.

How heavenly you were, splayed across his bed for him, just like the way you were in his dreams, when he would spend all night longing for your calming presence, fantasizing until he worked himself into an orgasm.

Gaining some confidence, feeling himself coming undone from just watching you unravel against him, he pushed a finger inside you.

“S-Satoru…” you whimpered, spreading your legs further apart, desperate to see his face and that damned smirk he couldn't get rid of.

“Feel good princess?” he teased in a whisper, inserting another finger, surprised at how eager you were for more. “I wanna hear you sing for me.”

“S-stop teasing me!” you moaned, trying to roll your eyes until they fell into the back of your head. You whimpered for him, because of him, and he felt his cock twitch just from the sight of you, from tasting you again.

You were so expressive and responsive, grasping at his locks and pushing his face flush against you. The looks of an angel with an intoxicating glow that only drew him in farther, deeper. The strongest sorcerer couldn’t help but think he would throw everything away just to worship and have you.

After your first orgasm, you were already seeing stars. Just as Gojo wanted, and he couldn't help but smirk before leaning over you to capture your lips with his, stifling your moans so only he could hear. His name upon your lips, begging for more and all of him.

You were enrapturing, so perfect and pretty. It was all for him, something he could have never predicted or thought he deserved. Yes, he was skilled, and yes, he was the strongest, but you were the only person to ever make him feel alive. When he said he loved you, he meant it.

And you tasted too good, like candy, like heaven. He was going to ravish you.

As you came down from your high, Gojo started to gently play with your clit again until your hand reached out and grasped his wrist. “Please…” you pleaded with wanton eyes. “Need you now.”

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru was unable to resist. You were the only woman that could tell him what to do. And quickly, he listened, shedding his underwear off to obey your command, hovering over you with a careful intensity.

You reached up to cup his jawline, beckoning him down to your lips. When he met your kiss, a moan of anticipation softly graced his ears.

And finally, Gojo allowed himself to nestle his thick cock where it was desperate to go, where it needed to go. He could barely get the tip in, you felt too good. It was better than he could have ever imagined.

“Satoru! Ahhh….” You threw your head back at the sensation, back arching within the same movement, unprepared for how thick and commanding he would be. You closed your eyes momentarily, only feeling, touching, and relishing in him. Your mind was filled with his rapture, his passion, his love.

“S-so big,” you whimpered, arms constricting around his neck, eyes squeezing shut from the intense pressure that filled and stretched you completely.

Gojo sank into you until it was painful, until you were full of his twitching cock.

“I love you, Satoru,” you whimpered.

Euphoria was what you sought and was what was promised in loving Gojo Satoru. That was what you saw when you looked into his eyes, not just at this moment but with every promise for the future.

“Y/N…” he whined with need, trying his best to wait even if it was excruciating. “I love you more.”

You were dripping, making it easy for him to thrust as slowly as he could, waiting for you to adjust, waiting for your command to take it even further. He kissed you over and over again, his breathing strained with desperation. “Feel me baby, wanna make you feel good.”

“M-more…” you begged, not needing to repeat your demand before Gojo ravished you, pulling himself all the way out before slamming back inside you.

“Ah!” you cried out, legs curling around his hips, guiding him to the perfect angle. Exhilarated by your moans, he gradually began to thrust harder, obsessed with how your body trembled, pleading for more, praying for all of him.

The bed began to shake with how violent his pumps became.

"Fuck Y/N, you're taking me so well." Gojo complimented in a strained voice. He was vocally dirty, a far contrast from his usual demeanor and you loved it, yet you couldn't find the time to reply between your cries of ecstasy, becoming increasingly crazed. You could almost sob at how vivifying it felt. All you managed to sound between erratic moans was breathless praise, only wanting to feel him.

“Shit…” Gojo groaned. “Wanted to fuck you so bad, been needing this. I love this, fuck.”

“Feels so good Satoru–” you managed to choke out, your body jolting against him as you gazed into his eyes, pressing your lips against his before another moan escaped you.

“You’re perfect,” he grunted, biting down on his lip to stop another lovesick moan from escaping him.

You were magnificent, and Gojo couldn’t get enough. Having you like this was almost too much, and he was trying to control himself. Your sweet words, and your moans of approval—only riled him up more. And you were just so damn beautiful.

He needed you like this, taking all of him so eagerly, with desperation in your tone, cupping his face to keep him looking at you and how he was entering you, a pussy reserved for him and his offspring.

Thrust after thrust, both of you began to reach a high you’d never felt before. Gojo needed you in every position, on every surface, till the sun peaked above the horizon. Your pussy was like a drug, and there was no possible way he could ever get enough.

Securely wrapping his arms around you, Gojo moved you onto his lap, desperate to have you bounce on his cock. He needed it like he needed air, the notion of you coming undone in his embrace, in his arms.

As you straddled him, Gojo reached up and traced the line of your new scar between your breasts. Just touching it made him shudder, and he felt the power, the spell bound to you. It wasn't just a part of you; it was also a part of him.

His touch made you feel more alive than ever before.

“Please–” he couldn’t finish his question before your hips started to rock against him, cock still buried deep inside you. Your warmth engulfed him, and all he could do was run his hands down your ass before giving it an appreciative squeeze, etching a faint squeal from your mouth.

He helped guide your movements, but you did most of the work, bouncing on top of him as you held his shoulders, letting him suck on your breasts every time he stifled a moan. That was until he couldn’t anymore.

Gojo’s breathless moans warmed the crook of your neck as he continued to pound up into you, utterly pussy drunk. “Fuck, please me mine-“ he whimpered. “Be mine, be my girlfriend-“

You whimpered in response, nails scratching down his back as your abdomen tightened, not only by his words but by his calculated thrusts, wholly focused on pleasing you despite his own desperation for release.

“Girlfriend doesn’t seem like enough, fuck—you’re my wife,” he groaned, nails digging into the plush of your ass. “I love you.” His whines sounded above the slapping of your skin against his. “Your beautiful pussy is just a bonus.”

You tried to respond, almost unable to string a coherent sentence together from how perfectly he filled you up. “S-satoru!” you cried, back arching against nothing but his forearms, feeling yourself falling apart at how eagerly your pussy took his massive length. “G-gonna cum!”

“Can I be yours too?” he moaned, thrusting faster, deeper, harder. His hand reached to grip the headboard as it banged against the wall. “Please let me be yours-“ he begged, panting, his control wavering as he locked eyes with you to glimpse euphoria.

“You are-” you tried your best to respond before your loudest cry yet echoed into the night, and you released yourself upon him, experiencing the most violent, leg-shaking orgasm of your entire life. Your body racked with tremors, and you suddenly became crazed for more, moaning over and over again as you swayed your lips, using his throbbing warm, and eager cock to ride out your orgasm and into another one.

“Want more Satoru, need you to fill me up, please!” Your pleas were like music to his ears. You were so sexy, but that compliment didn’t feel like enough; you were undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on, and he was blessed with the opportunity to fuck you like he was. How did he get so lucky?

“Fuck yeah… fuck princess I’m gonna-” he sounded breathless, hips stuttering against you before he let go, pouring a thick load of cum inside of you. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N-” he babbled, twitching inside you so violently you could feel it, unable to pull himself out by how greedy your pussy throbbed, how your legs tightened around his waist and pulled him even closer.

His eyes squeezed shut, trying to control himself and his power, so desperate to experience this high that his hands curled around the headboard’s frame–

Snap!

Splinters of wood rained down beside you. The sound was loud, but you didn’t care; it felt too good, and once the rush rippled throughout your entire body, you finally tore your gaze away from Gojo’s to glimpse your surroundings.

He had crushed the headboard in a single-handed grip. Still panting, you laughed through your exhales. Gojo flashed a tired, sheepish smile in return, leaning his head back to rest against the cracked wood. Closing his eyes, he calmed his beating heart, cock still warming inside you. His throat bobbed as he attempted to steady his breathing and think of something to say.

The next minute was spent staring at him with heavy eyes as you caught your breath, reveling in what had unfolded—what you’d been yearning for since you met him.

And the white-haired sorcerer had vastly exceeded your expectations. Just having him panting underneath you was enough to turn you on all over again. You shifted slightly, beginning to pull yourself off him but realizing he was still rock hard.

Your gasp caused him to lazily open his eyes, his lips parting to release a whimper at how plush your pussy felt in this sensitive state, how it was drawing him back in.

Suddenly, it felt like he would die if you left him like this. If you took your warmness away. You were addicting, and Gojo only asked for more of your love. He still had so much more to give in return to prove himself worthy.

As he stared up at your flustered expression, he couldn’t help but flash a lopsided grin. How beautiful you were in all of your unfiltered glory.

“Pretty girl…” he whispered with admiration, his hands sliding from your thighs to your ass, hinting how he wanted to take control if you'd let him. “I’m not done yet,” Gojo tried to say confidently, though it came out more desperate and needy.

“Satoru…” you whimpered as he began to rock incredibly slowly into your fluttering pussy, guiding you up and down with his large hands, letting you feel the entirety of him all over again. So deep inside you, kissing all of the right spots without effort. “But… But you broke the headboard…”

“I’ll fix it later,” he chuckled in a strained voice as you matched his rhythm. “J-just feel me princess.” he murmured against your skin.

Nodding furiously, you reached out and brought Gojo’s face between your breasts, holding onto him as his pace quickened. “Anything for you, my love~” you whimpered into his ear, arms circling around his head.

It drove him crazy. This was perfect, you were perfect, and Gojo realized then and there that he would do anything for you.

That night, Gojo Satoru ravished you four separate times. Up until the early morning, when he physically couldn't orgasm again, when he was drenched in sweat and beginning to feel cramps in his thighs. His room was a mess, his bed frame and headboard broken. You, in turn, had remnants of makeup smudged on your cheeks, and baby hairs sticking to your damp forehead. Your legs were shaking, so sore and fucked out completely that Gojo thought it would be best to carry you to the bathroom. Dark hickeys littered your neck and chest, and you knew covering up the next day would be a pain. But you were happy. Your heart was whole.

After cleaning you up, Gojo took your hand and led you onto his private balcony.

It was just before sunrise, as you and Gojo cuddled against each other on the surprisingly spacious sofa. The stars were so beautiful in the middle of the night. The temperature was perfect, and the crickets sang a harmonious mating call in the distance, gathering at the edge of the ponds sheltered among the foliage lines.

It was ironic that you had promised never to sleep on the couch with him again, yet there you were beside him, tucked under a blanket and nuzzling his neck for the comfort of his cologne.

Content with the proximity, Gojo tilted his head and kissed your forehead, his eyes glancing between you and the clear night sky. Despite the stress, responsibilities, and chaos that had occurred that day, he felt blessed to share this moment with you.

The same appreciativeness settled within your own soul. Deep in your heart, a part of you knew this was Mother Nature herself smiling down upon you. It was a gift, a glimpse of the better part of your future. Nothing else mattered right now, only him and his comfort.

“I’m going to be so tired tomorrow,” you complained absentmindedly, already drifting off to sleep from the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“It’s a good thing we have the day off tomorrow then,” Gojo chuckled softly.

Surprised, you lifted your head off his chest. “Really?”

“You earned it.”

Satisfied with the simplistic answer, you hummed in approval before curling back into him. Gently, he ran his fingers through your hair until your breathing became light and sparse, and your body was utterly relaxed against his own.

A smile spread across his face as Gojo watched you sleep in the darkness. Since you’d graced him with your presence, his smiles seemed never-ending. For you, there would always be one. For you, he would remain the strongest. No matter what it took. Whatever you wanted, he would provide.

Finally, there was something for him to live for, not for everyone else, not for the sake of the world and its balance. But selfishly and irrevocably his.

The pressure of outside forces seemed lighter by your side. Everything seemed possible as long as you were the one standing beside him. The promise of you and your love was what kept him sane through it all. He was no longer alone. You were his answer and his purpose.

The brightness of a future with you was so close—he’d seen it in your eyes and in the lines of your prophecy.

All Gojo needed to do was solve it, trust you, and guide you through its unfairness.

And then, possibly, what the two of you yearned for would become a reality.

[lunaewriting]

The Healer: Xavier x OC

Chapter 3: Props and Mayhem

1935

After much deliberation, the pair settled in a developing area called Linkon City. Soon after, they opened up a storefront: Art & Apothecary. Given the plethora of antique art Sirona had collected, creating an exhibition of 'never before seen pieces' from the last 200 years was easy. Sirona's garden had housed all manner of plants, some with medicinal properties. The plants she had brought with her in the move, combined with Sirona's natural healing abilities, made her a favorite among the city's denizens.

Decades passed, and as they did, the light in Sirona's eyes gradually reignited, just as Xavier dreamed they would. However, with the city's rapid growth came an exponential increase in crime. Xavier knew that both himself and Sirona had a passion for protecting others. Though Sirona was already overwhelmed with the influx of injured and dying, and he… was bound to a code that many of the backtrackers had long since stopped believing in, but it was one that he followed all the same. However, his faith in that code began to falter the first time he witnessed Sirona surpass her healing limitations.

That day years ago, a gas leak and a lit cigarette had caused a catastrophic explosion at the bank down the street, injuring or killing at least 50 people. When Sirona heard the blast, she snatched her first aid equipment and bolted.

"Xavier, hurry!" She shouted at him, panicked. He ran after her without a second thought.

When they reached the scene, it was chaos. Bodies scattered the area. The survivors cried out in pain. Xavier looked at Sirona; he watched as her eyes rapidly assessed the situation. About 40 had survived, and several were critically injured.

Her eyes snapped to his, "Take this and try to stop the bleeding for the people that are conscious," The large first aid kit was thrust into his arms before Sirona rushed towards one of the gravely injured survivors. She skidded to a stop and began to pour her power into him; his wounds stopped bleeding almost instantly.

Xavier burst into action, working his way through the crowd, helping the injured. Sirona had taught him basic first-aid skills, so he was well-equipped to tend to their injuries.

"Please, help my child!" A woman caught Xavier by the leg desperately. He crouched before her, beginning to dress and disinfect her wounds,

"Where were you two standing before the explosion?" Xavier asked her firmly.

It was clear the woman's injuries impeded her from movement, "By the desk," She gestured feebly. All that was left of the desk was a pile of rubble, Xavier cursed under his breath. With the mother's injuries taken care of, he rushed towards the front desk in hopes of finding the son unharmed.

Xavier's eyes scanned the vicinity. Hidden in a nearby alcove created by the blast lay a bruised and bloody little boy. His chest rose and fell weakly; he was beyond Xavier's abilities. The child needed Sirona.

"Sirona!" he called. His eyes left the boy's crumpled form, searching hurriedly for her.

There she was, her steps faltering and unstable; she looked so frail, gaunt— surely he wasn't only imagining that her skin had lost its luster. She crouched down to help another survivor. Sirona's eyes seemed to sink into their sockets, and her cheeks began to hollow out as she siphoned her power into the person.  

"Sirona!" He called again, closing the distance between them. 'What's happening to her?' He thought, but it didn't matter now. That child would die without her help.

Xavier grabbed her hand; it was freezing. He shook off his worry; she'd be alright. When Sirona used too much energy to heal people, she got fatigued. He convinced himself there was nothing to worry about besides saving the lives of the people around them.

She lurched after him, her steps labored. "Xavier, I—" Her voice was drowned out by the crowd's screams. Finally, they reached the little boy.

"Here!" Xavier said, relieved to find the child was still breathing.

Sirona dropped to her knees beside the child. Her hands hovering over his tiny body, "Shit! He has a head wound, he's lost a lot of blood," Taking a steadying breath, she began siphoning more of her energy into him. Xavier realized too late that the woman in front of him, the woman who meant more to him than his morals, his code, even his life, currently looked like a corpse. The boy's breathing grew stronger, but Sirona's became weaker. Something was very wrong.

"Xavier..." She barely had enough life inside of her to muster the words, "I can't... There is nothing left," Xavier dropped down beside Sirona just in time to catch her before her body gave out.

"Sirona, what do you mean? T-talk to me!" His hands squeezed her shoulders in an effort to jostle her out of her stupor, to no avail. Sirens sounded nearby. The authorities would ask too many questions, and he needed to get Sirona to safety.

'I pushed her too far,' Xavier realized, 'I'm a monster...' Scooping her into his arms, he realized how emaciated she had become, as if the very soul within her had left. She was skin and bone, far from the woman he knew, so full of life and light. Sirona's head lolled to the side as if she were a ragdoll.

"I'm so sorry Sirona... God, I am so sorry." Using his power, he blinked them back to Art & Apothecary, carefully laying her on one of the clinic beds.  

He let himself fall into a chair at her bedside. 'What have I done?'

Xavier gazed at her, searching for any signs of life—Nothing, save for the weak rise and fall of her chest.

Xavier let out a long and shaky breath. 'She's going to be okay; she has to be.'

It still haunted him, the silence that was created in her absence. Living through that week without hearing her laughter, without seeing her smile. A week without waking up next to her in the morning. Agony was what it felt like. Seeing her laying there, knowing that there was nothing that he could do to help her... it knocked the air right out of his lungs.

When she finally awoke, she immediately asked about the survivors of the explosion. She did not seem to care whether she lived or died, a trait that had been apparent in so many aspects of her history. She would always give her life if it meant saving another. Xavier knew then that it was his job to never let that happen.

⭒✦✵✦⭒

Xavier and Sirona returned from a long day at the shop. Sirona was staggering, barely able to stand. Xavier offered to blink her to the apartment, but she stubbornly insisted on walking the short distance from the apothecary.

As soon as they entered the room, Sirona collapsed onto their sofa, defeated. She closed her eyes, trying to relax despite her racing thoughts.

She abhorred her ineptitude. How many people will die tonight because I couldn't save them? 

It was that thought that haunted her every waking moment and the idea that kept her awake at night. She couldn't take it anymore. It felt as if the guilt was eating her alive. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Xavier, it kills me to know that people are dying out there because I'm too weak to save them," Sirona lamented. Xavier's eyes widened as he fell onto the couch beside her.

"What do you mean?" Xavier asked carefully.

"No matter how many people I help, there will always be some who slip through the cracks. What good am I if I fail at the only thing I am good at?" Sirona sat up straight so she could look her companion in the eyes.

"Sirona, you almost kill yourself every day to help these people. If you give them any more of yourself than you already do, you will die." He resisted the urge to reach out to her, knowing all too well why she felt this way, wanting desperately to strip that guilt away and for her to realize that she had saved more lives than most would ever dream of saving.

She looked down, aware of her limitations but uncaring. Absentmindedly, Sirona reached for the fabric of Xavier's sleeve, trifling with it in a self-soothing gesture. "I know… I can't save them all... but maybe we need to prevent them from getting injured in the first place? Xavier, you know we are both capable fighters, we still spar every day to keep our skills sharp. I don't see any reason why we shouldn't stop the people who hurt others."

Xavier pondered the idea; he knew he had no right to fear for her safety. She had fended for herself for nearly 150 years before they even met.

He, too, was well-versed in combat. He admitted to himself that he missed the thrill of the hunt. Despite his eagerness, he wrestled against himself. Too cognisant of the reality his non-interference pact presented. Being from another world and another time, he did not want to risk jeopardizing the timeline, but if the choice came down to protecting the timeline or protecting Sirona… he would choose her. He would always choose her. 

The future scared him. Sirona's power would be highly sought after in the aftermath of the Chronoshift Catastrophe. People would want to exploit her. If they knew someone like her existed, she would be hunted; they would need to keep their identities a secret. She had far more power than she realized. She was… incredible. 

Xavier had kept the knowledge of what he was and the things yet to come from Sirona for all of this time. He would try to keep it that way for as long as he possibly could. She needn't carry a burden that was intended only for him. He was trapped in a perpetual tug-of-war between his duty and his heart.

This idea contained far too many risks. What if she was hurt? What if he failed to save her? "Sirona, this idea is... reckless," Every part of him wanted to say no, understanding the potential consequences. "We shouldn't do this." But he knew arguing with her would be pointless. Her mind had already been made; for his conscience, though, he needed to be able to say that he tried. 

Sirona rolled her eyes. "There is no way you are talking me out of this. You can either come with me or stay here."

Xavier knew his answer, "You know I'd follow you through anything."

Xavier resigned himself. I am going to regret this…

⭒✦✵✦⭒

The next night, they set out to destroy the transgressors who thought they could prey upon the weak. Those people would meet their consequences. Xavier and Sirona donned masks from a masquerade ball they had attended years ago to conceal their identities. As with their attire, they also took new names. By day, they were Sirona and Xavier, the proprietors of Art & Apothecary; by night, they were Seraph and Lumiere.

As the two listened to the police scanner they'd procured from Jeremiah earlier that day, they realized the gravity of the endeavor they'd taken upon themselves. Times had changed since the late 1800s when the pair had met. Now, vigilante justice was looked down upon by law enforcement. This meant they needed to conceal their presence and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Everything they did had to be quick, quiet, and efficient. 

"Attention all law enforcement units in the area, reports of gunshots have been received from downtown." The scanner droned. Xavier and Sirona looked at each other. The hunt had begun.

The sound of gunfire quickly drew them to a derelict factory in the underdeveloped part of the city.  Inside, the once industrious space now felt cold and oppressive. Bound, terrified hostages huddled together in the center of the room. The criminals, equipped with firearms, paced nervously. Every so often, a shot rang out, and one of the hostages fell, adding to the hideous sense of dread.

Xavier and Sirona crouched at the side entrance. Sirona looked at him, eyes lingering for a moment. He appeared equally enraged and electrified, but his demeanor was confident. He was a terrifyingly beautiful warrior. His silver hair gleamed in the moonlight, and the edges of his mask seemed to glow. The ferocity of his expression nearly took her breath away.

Sirona stood beside him, growing more agitated with each additional shot that sounded. Her gaze was grim, undoubtedly tormented by the ghosts of the people she had lost. Xavier knew how agonizing it must be for her to wait while people were being slaughtered.

Sirona adjusted her grip on her dagger, its blade glinting in the flickering light above them.

"We have to move fast," she whispered. "Every moment we delay, more people will die."

Xavier nodded, his own hands already gripping his sword. "I'll take the direct approach. You come in from the shadows."

They surged into action. Xavier burst through the threshold, his light blinding and disorienting the criminals. The room lit up as if a star had exploded, forcing the thugs to shield their eyes. While they were incapacitated, Xavier shot towards them. He maneuvered his blade with acute precision, disarming and dispatching two gunmen with seemingly effortless strikes.

Sirona slipped in behind him, her movements languid and silent. She approached another criminal from behind. With a touch, she siphoned the man's life force, draining his energy just enough to render him unconscious. She hadn't drunk lifeforce in so long; it was exhilarating, and for a moment, all she craved was more. But— the hostages needed her. She forced herself out of her aura of ecstasy. 

Now aware of the extraordinary powers against them, the criminals scrambled in confusion. The leader of the group barked orders, but his commands fell on deaf ears. His eyes narrowed when he spotted Sirona and fired a shot in her direction. Sirona felt searing pain as the bullet tore and lodged itself into her shoulder. The sound of the gun almost stopped her in her tracks; the last time she'd been shot—

The memory of William's corpse threatened to tear apart the resolve she so carefully mustered. She will never forget that day. She shoved the painful memory aside and persisted towards the hostages.

"Seraph!" Xavier roared, his voice filled with horror and desperation. He'd seen her falter. Their eyes met; pain was evident in her expression, but she nodded, adamantly signaling to him that she was all right. Xavier struck out; he almost glowed in the dim light of the factory as he dispatched another thug with a mighty swing of his sword. The room seemed to pulse with light as he fought, each blow a beacon of hope for the terrified hostages. Xavier mowed through the grunts, working his way towards the leader. How DARE he harm the woman I love.

The hostages had been beaten badly, some to the point of collapse. She moved among the injured, cutting their binds and siphoning her energy into them one by one. Each injury she healed drained her strength, and she staggered slightly but continued, driven by the urgency to save lives. Her vision filled with black spots. No matter how desperately she wanted to heal them completely, she knew she could not. 

Attempting to take another step, Sirona stumbled again. 

Seeing his men falling one by one, the leader desperately moved. Before Sirona could regain her balance, he lunged at her, grabbing her violently and twisting her arms behind her. In her vulnerable, dazed state, she couldn't fight back. 

His eyes darted around wildly as the leader aimed a gun at her head. "Stand down, or she dies!" he screamed, mania evident in his voice.

Xavier could no longer charge in blindly. The leader endangered Xavier's raison d'etre, his reason for being. 

"Seraph," he rasped, his voice wavering. His abject panic caused his loathsome body to freeze. The thought of losing Sirona was horrific. His worst nightmare was on the precipice of being realized. 

Sirona's eyes locked with Xavier's. Despite the situation, she looked calm and focused. "Lumiere, you are the light of my life; never forget that," she said with an edge of gravity. 

It took Xavier a moment to notice her intentional emphasis on the word. He knew what he had to do; all that was left was to trust her.

Before the man could move a centimeter, Xavier summoned a flash that momentarily blinded the leader. As the villian staggered, his grip on Sirona loosened. 

She seized the opportunity to overpower her attacker. Her hands slid out of his grip, and she clamped her hands upon his temples, claiming his life force as her own. His death rattle echoed throughout the warehouse; a husk was all that was left of him. After all the suffering he had wrought, he had ended up the same as the rest. The room fell silent except for the heavy breathing of the pair and the muffled sobs of the freed hostages.

"Time to go," Xavier whispered urgently. He supported Sirona as she could no longer run. They could not allow law enforcement to see them. Without another thought, Xavier teleported them to an alcove tucked away in a corner of the warehouse's ceiling.

Sirona, exhausted, leaned heavily on Xavier as they watched the police arrive from their unseen vantage point. Law enforcement quickly took the criminals into custody, and the hostages were ushered out, their lives saved.

"We did it," Xavier said softly, his voice filled with relief and pride. His eyes studied her intently, drinking in every detail. Every piece of her is beautiful.

Sirona smiled weakly, "Of course we did! I never had any doubt." 

She looked at him. Her eyes had a fire in them, an invitation. Xavier brought his hands up to grasp the back of her neck. The electricity that sparked between them was palpable. Xavier dipped his head, leaning in closer. Her eyes closed in anticipation— but the contact never came. Sirona opened her eyes.

His hands ran across her body, affectionate but clinical; Xavier inspected her for injuries, paying particular attention to her shoulder. His eyes held an air of mania, desperate to prove to himself that she was safe. Sirona's eyes dropped to the ground, slightly ashamed for assuming such a thing. I'm such a fool. 

She laughed despite herself, seeing the state of her companion. "Xavier, I'm alright, I promise!" 

She caught his wandering hands in hers, stopping them from their frantic journey. 

"Let me see your shoulder," Xavier said gently. Sirona rolled her eyes. And with a wince, she lowered the neckline of her shirt to expose her bare shoulder. Sirona admitted to herself that it hurt—badly.  

Xavier breathed in sharply through his teeth, his hand tenderly resting on her shoulder as he examined the wound more closely. "It looks like the bullet is still lodged in your shoulder. We need to get you home." Xavier took off his jacket and draped it over Sirona's shoulders. 

Sirona cast a sidelong glance at Xavier. "Fine," she groaned. "This is going to be terrible." 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

At their apartment, Xavier ushered Sirona back in and cleared off the kitchen table. 

"Sit down," Xavier instructed as he walked into another room. Sirona obliged, plopping herself onto the table. A minute later, he returned with a first aid kit, a shot glass, and a bottle of whiskey. 

"What's that for?" Sirona asked, eyeing the whiskey. Her eyes followed Xavier as his lean, muscular form quickly and efficiently laid out his tools. Sirona opened her knees, allowing Xavier better access to her wound. He settled himself between her legs.

"The pain," Xavier said. He was so close to her that she could smell his cologne; Sirona knew the scent would be more intoxicating to her than the whiskey. She could feel his body heat radiating from him, the fervor filling the space between them.

Sirona knocked back the shot Xavier poured for her. It was a good distraction. She poured herself another, for good measure, the liquor stinging her lips.

The warmth of the whiskey settled in her stomach.

Xavier cleared his throat, "I need to remove your shirt so I can get access to the wound. Is that okay?" He asked in a steely voice, but his eyes and the raggedness in his breath betrayed him, revealing the gap in Xavier's resolve.

"O-of course," Sirona stuttered, raising her good arm above her head. Xavier grasped the hem and began to lift it, using extra care around her injured shoulder. His knuckles grazed the plains of her abdomen. A breath escaped her lips. He slipped the shirt slowly over that arm first, then carefully weaved the shirt off of her injured one without causing much pain. His eyes carried a hungry haze, telling her it was becoming difficult for him to maintain his composure.

Fuck. Xavier thought. Seeing so much of Sirona's bare skin made it hard for him to focus. His hands rested on her shoulders, and he couldn't help himself from running his hands slowly, torturously along the length of her arms, from her neck to her hands. Sirona shivered under his touch. 

She was so tempting—Xavier shook himself out of his trance. He had a job to do. 

Sirona watched as the fog in Xavier's eyes cleared, and he reached for the gauze and tweezers. 

"This is going to hurt, Sirona. If it becomes too much you can squeeze my arm." Still situated between her legs, he leaned forward for better access to the puncture. The edges of his pelvis brushed against her upper thighs.

Sirona squeezed her eyes shut and reached out to hold Xavier's elbow. He used one arm to keep her steady while the other made its insertion.

Sirona gasped sharply as the tweezers entered the bullet hole. The wince caused her thighs to compress around Xavier's hips. The pain was hard to take. Sirona's grip tightened on Xavier's arm. She felt his tweezers make contact with the bullet and begin the extraction. They scraped against the interior of her injury, and she whimpered, trying to remain totally still. After what felt like an eternity, Sirona heard a clink as the lone bullet dropped into the discarded shotglass.  

Sirona released a deep breath that she did not realize she was holding and nestled her head into the crook of Xavier's neck. The pain was gone, and her regeneration could finally work at its usual unobstructed speed.

Xavier held his breath, not wanting to reveal how much she was affecting him. Each point of contact set his skin aflame. His fingers instinctually moved to stroke her hair as she leaned against him. 

"Thank you, Xavier," Sirona breathed heavily. Already beginning to feel the sinew of her skin begin to knit back together. Her fingers intertwined with his hair, brushing through the strands gratefully.

He smiled to himself. "Anytime," he whispered as he dipped his head to lean against her own. He savored his time with her and their contact, knowing how fleeting these intimate moments could be.

⭒✦✵✦⭒

1975

The past several weeks had been suspiciously calm, almost sinisterly so. In all her centuries, Sirona had never seen a city this quiet. It was disconcerting. Xavier and Sirona huddled around their police scanner, but nothing could be heard, not even the usual chatter from the officers on duty. Miraculously, the police had come to respect the phantom fighters, not impeding their ability to respond to a crime. They even gave them a nickname: the Hunters. 

Suddenly, the scanner droned to life, "We are receiving a series of troubling reports from all across the city. This appears to be a coordinated effort from multiple gangs. All officers report to the station for assignment immediately."

Sirona knew they had to act quickly. They looked at each other for a moment, knowing what needed to be done. "We need to split up, we can cover more ground that way."

Xavier knew she was right, but the thought of battling apart thrust a stake of fear into his heart. Still, he thought this was larger than either of them, and Sirona would always put the well-being of others over the well-being of herself. There was nothing he could ever do to stop her from acting on that. 

"Okay," Xavier said reluctantly. He felt dread, eradicable, ghastly dread. I do not want to be away from her tonight. He shook it off. He was just being neurotic.

It was their first time fighting alone since they started living together. Xavier would head towards the industrial district while Sirona would make her way to the city center. Sirona looked at him meaningfully before pulling him into a hug. She breathed in his scent; it always settled her. Her eyes drank his in.

"We'll meet back here in two hours, okay?" She rose onto the balls of her feet and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek. "I adore you…" Without time to say another word, Sirona bolted towards her intended destination.

Dumbfounded but optimistic, Xavier made his way towards his goal.

As Xavier approached the center of the district, he heard nothing, saw nothing. It was odd. Usually, there was some sort of activity going on within the area. He investigated the usual criminal hotspots, but all were empty. 

Finally, he came to the last remaining area. Once I finish patrolling this district, I can return to Sirona. 

He entered the building and closed the door behind him. That was when the light on the ceiling burst to life. With the entire warehouse illuminated, he could finally see how many men he had opposing him.

One of them spoke above the rest. "Lumiere, you and your companion have been a thorn in our side for too long. Tonight we will finally gut you both like the animals you are!" Xavier's blood ran cold. He realized that the APB was a ploy to split themselves apart from distract law enforcement.

Xavier attempted to keep himself composed, but the threat to his... Sirona... was too great, "If any of you have so much as touched Seraph, I will disintegrate each and every one of you."

"It's a little late for that, my old friend." Xavier's breath quickened. "She's already gone, I only wish that I could have seen your face as you discovered her body, but orders are orders..."

Xavier did not believe them for an instant. They were bluffing. Of course, they were bluffing. They had to be bluffing. 

"Fire!" The leader shouted, signaling with his hand for the bombardment to begin. Before a single shot could be fired, the room filled with a brilliant light. Xavier never gave them a chance to scream, nor did he stop to look at the carnage before bursting out of the warehouse. There was only one thought occupying his mind, Sirona.

⭒✦✵✦⭒

Sirona couldn't believe she had actually kissed him. She had loved him for almost a century. Now, she ran with a new sense of purpose. It was all she could do to keep herself from squealing with joy like a—

"Help!" A bloodcurdling scream pierced the otherwise silent night air, stopping Sirona in her tracks. Sirona immediately traced the sound to a nearby street. A woman faced the far wall of an alleyway, crying loudly; without thought, Sirona rushed to her.

"Are you alright?" Sirona approached with a kind smile.

The woman whipped around to face her, and Sirona felt the cold touch of gunmetal against her forehead. Before she could react, the woman smiled wickedly and pulled the trigger. 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

Frantically, Xavier blinked to their usual meeting point. 

"Sirona!" he screamed. That terrible pit in his stomach intensified. He tried and failed to stay calm. As he neared the city center, he heard what sounded like a riot emanating from a nearby alleyway. What he saw when he rounded that corner would haunt him for the rest of his eternal life. A group of about 10 men were all beating a small, motionless body. Please… anyone but her. 

Dazed, Xavier commanded his legs to carry him through the tightly huddled group. When he reached the center, time itself stopped. There lay his greatest fears manifest, his Sirona.

When he saw her head, he nearly vomited. Brain matter spattered the pavement. It looked like a hole had been punched clean through her skull, staining her beautiful chestnut hair a sick shade of crimson. A man crouched near her unsheathed a knife. The crowd, distracted by the display of desecration, had not yet noticed Xavier. They jeered raucously when they spotted the weapon.

"Let's take the bitch's head!" He smiled sickeningly as he moved to hack at her neck. Xavier had been paralyzed, but when he spied the knife in that man's hands, his vision went red.

 You deserve to die in agony, bastards.

Xavier collapsed onto his knees. Unconsciously, he conjured a cylinder of light, separating the attackers from Sirona's body. No more. No more will touch her. The crowd quieted in confusion. They quickly realized precisely who had stopped their sadistic revelry. He could see nothing else but her. His eyes studied her, desperate for any indication of life.

Unable to stand, Xavier crawled to her.  His heartbeat had become a roar in his head. When he reached her, he realized the extent of the damage. It appeared that almost every bone in her body was broken; she had been beaten brutally. The gunshot to her head was what killed her. They'd executed her.

"Sirona?" he rasped, to no response. Xavier's body doubled over her as if to shield her from harm. He leaned his head to her chest. Nothing. She was still, completely and irrevocably. When he raised his head once more, tears streamed down his face. She felt so cold; she hated being cold. This is a nightmare, just another nightmare, just wake up!

He pulled her limp body into his lap, cradling her in his arms. Staring up at the night sky, he felt nothing but torment. He let out a broken, mournful scream.  

As he began to scream, so too did the infernal crowd. Without thought, Xavier's anguish had reached a crescendo as his light erupted into a tempest. Tendrils lashed out, grasping at the limbs and torsos of Sirona's killers. They were being ripped apart slowly. The light was rendered crimson as the blood and viscera filled the air. Xavier was only vaguely aware of the carnage. Xavier could not tear his eyes from Sirona's body. She's not breathing. Her beautiful face was still, so still… They lay there in the eye of the storm as the screams faded into silence.

"Please, please, please come back to me. I can't lose you," Xavier begged to be struck down alongside her. He begged to be woken from this nightmare, begged to wake up next to her for one last morning. I can't leave you; I won't. We promised we would never leave each other. Why did you break your promise? He held her in his arms for hours, praying for her to heal. 

The light of his world was gone. He was never able to tell Sirona how much he loved her. No longer would he have someone to share his lonely existence with. He had failed. He was supposed to protect her. Nothing mattered without her. 

He had every intention to sit there in that alley until the world ended. But… he knew Sirona would never have wanted that for him. He knew he had to live on for her; no matter how painful it would be, he would do it for her. He grimaced as the sun began to peak over the horizon, knowing this would be the last sunrise they would share. 

But in that moment, he felt something—a heartbeat. Stupefied, he pressed his ear to Sirona's chest again and held a finger to her neck. Where there was once stillness, he felt it—LIFE. He thought he had imagined it. A grief-addled brain could be cruel, but there it was again, faint but there. 

He knew that no matter how long it would take, he would be by her side until she could wake to bring her beauty, warmth, and light to his life once more.

[lunaewriting]

My bestie is a prolific writer

Suffocation: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Suffocation MLIST wc: 7, 200 warnings: violence, sacrifice, blood, animal death. summary: your first mission with the students in tow turns into the very disaster you were afraid it would.

Only when you were inches away from a mountainous pile of animal carcasses did you realize the gravity of your situation. Your first mission was never supposed to be easy, but there was no way to predict that locating something as simple as barnyard animals could turn into a bloodbath this catastrophic. 

"Do you know what this is, Y/N?" Megumi whispered through gritted teeth, appalled at the sight before him. 

Bodies were sliced open and discarded into a pile to rot away. Bowls of blood and shredded innards all came together in an elaborate pentagram. 

A sacrifice, an offering to a being of higher power, and ancient times. This wasn't a simple, explainable case—it was a coverup and a trap. There weren't only a few missing cattle; almost one hundred were piled to the ceiling, forced into a heap of flesh ravaged by fly-heads. 

How could the intel be so incredibly wrong? 

As if sensing your realization, the eyes of the carcass in front of you shot open. They darted abnormally fast, the squelch of pooling blood causing you to take a step back. 

And before you could stop yourself, you peered into the soul of a life freshly taken. You saw it all, felt the pain, and absorbed the fear. And the perpetrators of such a horrific act were revealed. 

Three women adorned in blood-red veils. 

Suddenly omniscient and aware, you could feel one of them staring daggers into your back, a wicked smile filling her entire expression. You were just a second too late. 

“Shit!” You yelled in warning, instantly wrenching your blades from their sheaths and bringing one arm above your head before flinging it directly toward the intruders. 

Megumi reacted to the situation next, his eyes widening in horror, hands raising in front of him. Frozen in place from a sudden bloodlust, Yuji and Nobara whipped their heads around to look behind them, their eyes filled with confusion and fear.

“Wha-“ Yuji was cut off as your blade pierced one of the three women behind him. The dull thud of metal connecting with flesh echoed inside the vast warehouse and was followed by an eerie, amused cackle.

Why didn't you listen to your gut? How could you let this happen? All morning you'd felt uneasy and unsure. Protecting the students was your top priority, but instead, you had led them right into the mystery you were trying to unravel, right into the hands of the enemy—a rogue group of ex-Yoroza witches.

You knew it was them in your soul, carved into your very bones. Your dreams warned of such persistence. A clan of loyal subjects utterly devoted to the reincarnation of Kyoko and her beloved Sukuna. Curse users, those unsatisfied with traditional Jujutsu practices and morality--those desperate for unregulated power.

It was the same magic you could wield. But they were stronger, older, more experienced, and you were about to be locked in a potent necromancy spell. Cast by three women obsessed with spilling your blood for the final step of their ritual.

"Don't let them get Yuji," you whispered to Nobara and Megumi under your breath. Not only because he was your brother but also because the witches wanted to escalate Sukuna's return by any means necessary. 

Suddenly, the threat of Sukuna's return was your reality.  A routine training day had morphed into a potential cataclysm within seconds. 

That was until your voice suddenly snapped the students out of their stupor. "One of you call Gojo." You took a step forward. 

“Got it.” Nobara gritted her teeth, her gaze on the still-lodged blade.

It was too late, and you knew it. There was no sense in bargaining with the witches, but you would try to get as much information as possible.

They only watched and waited, even as Megumi summoned his demon dogs and Nobara brandished her hammer. You only had one embedded blade left, and you had to use it wisely. 

“A traitor to your master.” The middle witch sneered at you. She pulled the blade out of her shoulder, and it clattered to the floor, devoid of cursed energy. “In possession of a vessel that was never meant to belong to you.”

Based on their targeted direction, everything you'd learned over the last few months began to make sense. How the coven worked, how many women were still involved, and why such a once ancient and powerful cult became almost nothing at all. 

“This has nothing to do with him,” you snarled back. “Reviving Kyoko and Sukuna has not been ordained by the coven since the Kamakura era. What you're doing goes against all laws of magic.”

The three women chuckled maniacally at your rebuttal. As if you were stupid, as if you were missing vital information. “Their great return will reset the lands and balance of cursed energy.”

“What about loyalty to our ancestors and supremes?” you questioned, buying time for the sake of your brother and the students while also feeling curious to know more. How did these women fill their heads with such delusions? Were they possessed? Sukuna was not a prosperous god, and neither was his wife. It didn’t matter if she was the founder of the said coven you were bound to by blood. Reviving either of them would be a grave mistake. 

Your hand gripped the blade’s hilt tighter as you debated your next move. One wrong move and you would indeed be thrown into a spell you were unsure you could pull yourself out of.

The woman in the middle chuckled darkly, her eyes almost glowing with malice. “Kyoko is the first and only queen, the one supreme, and our goddess. Our lord is her husband, and he will fulfill his prophecy, with or without your consent.”

Her eyes slowly ran over the four of you, and her lips curled into a smirk. “And you shall play your role, whether it be willingly or by force.”

"And what role do we serve?" you asked. It was all your panic-addled brain could think of.  

The three women cackled at your question, their voices blending together in a sinister symphony. One of them stepped forward, her lips parting into a sly grin.

"Your role is simple, my dear," she cooed maliciously. "Sacrificial lamb, blood of the chosen."

Sharing a brief conformational look with your brother, you glanced back at the witches. You didn't know what these cult members were capable of, and you didn't want to give them another second to act. Killing them first meant the carcasses behind you would have no chance of awakening. It would mean saving the people you cared about. 

"That's if you can catch the lamb," you hissed sharply before hurling your last knife right between the eyes of the witch you stabbed previously. 

It was quick, too quick. Shock coursed through your veins, and panic riddled your brain. You might have felt sorrow if the threat hadn't been so adamant. But even then, you were still dispaired with your actions. 

With your jaw straightened into a thin line, you stood menacingly in front of the students. Despite your nervous, pounding heart, you would do anything to protect them. 

A moment of stunned silence passed, where even the remaining two witches were dumbfounded, slightly turning their heads to their sister, who was still standing, cross-eyed and trying to realize what had just impaled her. 

Blood trickled down her forehead and nose, already pooling in her bulging eyes. She tried to reach for the blade until you raised your hand and desperately flared your cursed energy, pouring all your strength into it. 

If only it hadn't come to this. 

Flashes and bursts of green miasma engulfed her entire head at your command. 

"No!" One of the witches screamed, her voice echoing just before a horrific popping sound pierced the warehouse. Her head exploded, brain matter covering their already red gowns. It was gruesome, and you flinched. 

The two women had barely any time to react to the horrific sight of their sister's brain spilling out all over them, their eyes widening in horror. They stared at the bloody remains for a split second before their eyes shot straight at you. 

As the two remaining witches realized their sister was gone, their fury twisted into a dark determination. The shorter witch yelled angrily, her face twisting with fury, her fists clenched so tight that her knuckles turned white.  "Now you will surely pay with your life!”

You still couldn't believe what you'd done. That you were even capable of such violence. It was a split-second decision; you understood very well that it was kill or be killed, and you decided to kill. You had to. A promise had been made the second you walked into Yuji's life—you would bloody your own hands to keep him safe, to keep him alive. 

“You dare harm us?” she hissed, her eyes narrowing as her voice quivered angrily. “You dare stand in the way of our lord and lady?”

The taller witch raised her hands in the air and began to chant. What you feared would happen was already unfolding. In the blink of an eye, the shorter witch pulled back her dress and revealed Sukuna's finger. The pressure and trepidation that followed were hard to overcome. This was reality, and now you were solely responsible for it all. 

Everyone felt it and heard the bone-chilling sound of misshapen flesh mending together. Nobara turned to look behind her, and she was almost wretched at the sight. Hundreds of carcasses started to absorb into a terrifying mound, forming eyes and hands. Horns and spikes began to protrude, blood dripping from each limb that was forced together. 

"Megumi and Nobara." Your voice was calmer than you thought it would be. You needed to keep your composure for the sake of the students. "Keep that curse distracted." 

They nodded in response, racing towards the growing curse, wanting to snuff it before it reached its full potential, before the witch in front of you finished chanting her spell. 

You turned to your brother. "Help me get their veils off. Once I see their eyes, I should be able to..." You trailed off, your stomach twisting with nausea at the idea of taking two more lives. It didn't matter whether or not they would kill you first; it still made you sick. 

Yuji didn't hesitate. Despite the horror of the sight behind him, he nodded instantly and turned his attention to the two witches before you. With a determined glare, he approached your side to fight alongside you, his fists clenched tightly.

Relax. Your thoughts echoed. All I have to do is link their souls.

As if on instinct, you and Yuji threw yourselves in the middle of the battle, advancing without another thought, not having a second to spare. Everything was happening so fast, and your heart was racing. You could hardly think or breathe, trying to remember the fluidity of your movements, summoning any form of power you could, guiding your cursed energy to your hands to exemplify your punch. 

Your fist collided with the taller witch’s jaws, and she stumbled back before throwing her own and missing. “You don’t know what you’re doing, chosen supreme!” she said, wiping the blood from her lip.  

Raising your fists, you were about to reply before a defeated yelp filled the silence. Megumi’s demon dogs burst into dust, flattened against the concrete from the sheer size of the cursed spirit, which had now taken the form of a misshapen bull with innumerable eyes and hooves. Megumi tried to summon another spirit but stumbled to his knees, chest heaving from the strain. Nobara tried her best to shower the body with nails, desperately attempting to use resonance, but she didn’t have enough. It was too powerful and too large. The curse slammed Nobara to the ground, and she screamed out in pain. 

Horrified, you tried to pivot toward Nobara’s side, but the witch sneered in rebuttal, lunging for you again. Her sharp nails scraped against your arm, tearing layers of skin off with her pull back. You dodged, eyes scanning the floor to find one of your blades. You reached for one lying beside what was left of the fallen witch’s skull, but a sudden miasma of black energy swatted it from your grip. 

You couldn’t even look up fully before it collided with your face.

The surprise attack knocked you off your feet, and you were sent into a painful roll against the concrete, careening across the entire room until you stopped only a few feet away from Nobara. The wind was forced from your lungs, and you gasped, clutching your chest. 

Nothing had ever hurt so badly. Your vision was blurry as you searched your surroundings. Nobara was unconscious, and you were wounded. Glancing down, your arm was dripping blood and darkening with bruises. But you had to keep fighting; you had to assist Yuji. 

But how? You felt powerless with your weapons depleted, the blades you practiced with having no merit.

As you stumbled to your feet, your plan was shattered as you were pulled back to the ground, black tendrils curling around your arms and locking you in place. On your knees, you looked up to see Yuji in the same position. The cursed black miasma was unmovable, and you could only watch as the witches advanced on him quickly, completely forgetting about you as their nimble hands unraveled the cloth that held Sukuna’s finger.  

"Yuji!" you screamed, struggling against the restraints, managing to get one knee up. “NO!” Your voice cracked with desperation, hoarse and pleading, as you tried to free yourself from the tendrils holding you down. “Leave him alone!” 

Yuji fought until he couldn’t move, his eyes widening in terror at the sight of the cursed finger being shoved against his teeth. He tried to push his head away, protest, and do anything to stop them, but it was too late. 

“No… stop! ” Yuji managed to plead as the witches grasped his jaw and forced it open. Tears were streaming down his face as they shoved the grotesque relic into his mouth. Seconds later, before you could take a full breath, his body twitched and convulsed. 

You were crying now, forced to watch the transformation as the witches stepped back. 

You had failed. 

Many times, you have thought about what you would encounter on your first mission. But not one time did you think it would be something like cult witches, a grotesque necromancy spirit, and the demon inside your brother awakening. 

You were not strong enough. Useless. Weak and defeated as your brother and his friends, Gojo’s students, were bleeding and about to die before your very eyes. 

It was just like the first night when you were all alone and about to die. A moment where you should have died until Gojo had saved you. But he couldn't this time. It was all up to you, and you loathed it. 

As Yuji convulsed on the ground, the witches approached you with evil, satisfied smirks. “Your turn, lamb.” One of them laughed, revealing the blade she intended to slit your throat with. 

But your restraints loosened. 

Feeling the slack, you reached out and grasped the edge of her veil and ripped it from her head. On her forehead was that same mark you saw in your vision, red and scarred, from the deepest pits of hell. 

When her wide eyes were revealed, you wasted no second latching onto her soul. It was easy, barred to you like the offering they claimed you to be.

In the past, you would have hesitated to take a soul, you wouldn’t have even tried. But not when your brother’s life was on the line. Not when his soul was hanging in the balance, trying to take back control of his body and his life. 

You saw what was left of her soul—only red, the same shade of dried blood. The person before this transition was no longer; her body was only a shell, a tool for the undead. It saddened you, but you pushed past your moral code and limitations to end her life. 

Before the witch could gasp, before she could even feel your presence invading her soul and shattering the sacrificial magic that protected her, she slowly evaporated into primordial dust, her soul and her body together as one. 

A red mist appeared, before flickering into a deep, caramel yellow, the true color of her soul, freed from the shackles of insanity. The tendrils forcing you down disappeared into swirls of light before flickering into oblivion. 

Mouth agape, the last witch stared at you in horror. 

But before you could advance on her, before you could even process the sudden high you were experiencing—the air shifted so violently and rushed toward your brother with such force that your hair was blown over your shoulders and you stumbled forward. The witch stumbled back, her veil almost ripping from her head. 

Yuji doubled in size, a foreign, demonic laugh filling the silence as he stood dominantly higher than the witch in front of him. Marks bubbled across his skin and face, where two more eyes appeared.

As you stared back at your brother, watching his features fade into something older, someone older, you were struck with a type of fear and despair you’d never felt before. His eyes rolled back, and when they focused back on you, the light was gone, his soul was gone. Red, infernal eyes glinted at your horrified expression. Yuji’s boyish, cheerful smile now tainted with evil, destruction, and the desperation to conquer. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest. 

“Who fed me the finger.” A different voice puppeted your brother’s vocal cords. In fact, the body before you no longer resembled your brother at all. That voice had haunted you since the day you met Yuji, a voice that lurked in the shadows, watching your every move, inflicting anxiety on everyone around you at the possibility of his return. 

A power that was nearing revival. 

The witch standing between the two of you immediately fell to her knees and bowed her head. “It was I, Sukuna-Sama.” 

No reply came from Sukuna before he narrowed his eyes and swiped his hand in front of him. The witch before you burst into hundreds of pieces, some of her blood spraying against your clothes and skin.

“Foolish majo,” he growled, snapping his wrist so forcefully that the blood covering his hand sprayed off and painted the floor around you.  "Tampering with my plan.” 

You were frozen, holding your breath from the sheer trepidation of what just unfolded. Still processing that you were now covered in the blood of the woman before you, still wondering how you missed it, how Sukuna was able to kill someone so quickly and brutally. 

Sukuna’s four eyes immediately snapped at you, honing in on your terrified expression. They grazed over your face and your frame, seeming to gather the potential you had with one poised stare. 

“What kind of trickery is this?” he asked you. The recognition that flickered in his eyes confirmed that your vision wasn’t just a warning, it was a possibility. Kyoko looked strikingly familiar to you, and you were, unfortunately, the key to her revival. 

In your spiral, everything suddenly clicked into place. Like whiplash, your anxiety and your fear vanished. The adrenaline pounding in your ears subsided. Instead of despair, you felt calm.  

“Release Yuji now.” You managed to reply firmly, swallowing the stammer in your throat, the fear that threatened to prickle over. One wrong move, and you could be dead like the woman before you. But you were more innovative. You needed to be. 

Suddenly, Sukuna appeared next to you. His eyes grazed blatantly over your body, as if to confirm you were not the woman he initially thought you were. 

“I remember you, senkensha.” Sukuna’s voice boomed, almost causing you to flinch.

He seemed amused, but strangely cautious. Even though you were staring daggers at him, trying to see into his eyes, he avoided your gaze. “The sister of my vessel.”

You grit your teeth, thinking of a reply for your next move, anything at all—something to save your skin and the students. 

"A weilder of time and souls." He smirked. "Such rare and unawakened powers." 

Your stomach flipped. Sukuna's compliment confirmed that he heard and saw everything when he was dormant in your brother’s body. Despite that advantage, Yuji was not told everything. Gojo was the only one who knew the true extent and possibilities of your cursed energy. 

Waiting for his next move, for the right moment to make the only move you possibly could, time started to slow. It felt fluid to your movements, almost like bending to your will. You began to sense everything around you. Megumi’s energy was depleting, and he was bleeding, too, but you couldn’t help him. Nobara was still unconscious. 

“Weakling,” Sukuna taunted, a bemused grin stretching across his face. “I thought the newest Yoroza supreme would be more of a challenge.” 

“So why haven’t you killed me?” you asked, playing along. All you had to do was buy as much time as possible. "Or am I more useful to you alive?" 

Sukuna's sneer from your blatant disrespect confirmed your answer. "You couldn't see my soul when you tried last. What makes you think that would ever change?" 

But in your mind, you were barring yourself to the void, pleading with your ancestors to accept your bargain. You would submit, become the next supreme, and fully accept the power and responsibility of such a gift. This power was no longer a curse. 

Lend me your strength. 

Sukuna laughed, as if sensing your internal offering, as if sensing the heavenly pact you just accepted. Now, you were bound to forces you didn’t completely understand.  But, you would still be a nuisance. He let out a tch. 

"Foolish woman, toying with magic you can't possibly understand." 

A second line began to carve into your chest, but this time, it didn’t hurt. If anything, you felt more alive than you ever had before. 

Suddenly, your cursed energy flared to life, far more significant than you realized, and you felt a rush. Your pact was accepted, and you were fully awakened. Everything clicked into place, all at once. There was no more fear, there was no more hesitation. You could see everything around you all at once, and it was beautiful. 

And what was even more exhilarating, was that you moved one full second faster than Sukuna, the future ticking through your mind right before it happened. Premonition, the most fateful ability. 

His eyes moved faster than his body did, realizing your advancement but unable to move. Smirking at you, he didn't prepare to fight back, only raising his hand with sharpened, elongated nails and pivoting them to his chest. 

Four eyes met yours. "Still too late to save your br-" Sukuna tried to gloat, almost relishing in his victory until a sudden pang grazed his soul. 

The King of Curses had fallen into your trap. 

Before Sukuna could carve Yuji’s heart from his own body, his eyes were filled with an array of mystifying colors. He was frozen in place, stuck in a mirage that seemed to stretch forever. 

It took all of your energy, all of your willpower. It felt like the hands of your ancestors guided you. But instead of trying to eliminate Sukuna's presence, you reached out to Yuji's soul. 

He was tired, his hope was diminishing, and he was on the verge of giving up. The brightness of his soul was now like a vanishing sunset, his hope diminishing. I’m here Yuji. You called out, shattering the chaos of Sukuna’s taunting. And like the first breath of fresh air that lungs inhaled after drowning, your brother took control of his body. 

“Y-Y/N-” he managed to choke out before he stumbled against you. Steadying your fatigued brother, you let out a choked sob of relief. 

The markings that tainted his body faded away. He was back. He wasn’t dead. 

“Thank God,” you whispered, wanting to wrap your arms around him and cry, while the other half wanted to slap him for giving you such a scare. But, there was no time. 

There was no time to breathe, for the second Yuji smiled back at you, shattering glass and toppling rumble echoed throughout the warehouse. The beast, the cursed spirit, had pummeled Megumi in the wall behind him, the concrete cracking in zig-zagged lines.

It roared in response, displaying some level of intelligence. But its form was littered with too much energy and too many souls for you to do anything. 

“Megumi!” Yuji screamed. 

As he raced to his friend, you rushed to a waking Nobara. “Im here, I’m here,” you reassured, helping her to her feet. She seemed a bit dizzy and unfocused, but she was overall okay. She’d only been out for a few minutes, and all you could grant her was one minute to regain her senses. 

Dazed, Nobara stared at you. “Y/N… you’re glowing.” 

Confused, you glanced down at your hands. A faint mirage of green was surrounding you, outlining your physical body. 

“It's too strong,” Megumi coughed, leaning against Yuji as they approached your side. "It has reserves-"

Blood started to rush across the floor and toward the cursed spirit. You and the students would be caught in a continuous trajectory of battle until all of you or the beast ran out of cursed energy to draw from. And this beast had hundreds of more bodies to burn through, an overwhelming amount of blood to drink, and organs to consume. 

“Nobara,” you whispered, not having to ask her again if she was okay, she was standing on her own two feet now. “Go behind that generator and get rid of the blood and organs.” 

She, too, understood what you meant when she saw the blood trickling in slow, continuous lines to the cursed spirits. Sharing a look of understanding, Nobara darted away. 

Even if you had just inherited a copious amount of magic, it wasn’t necessarily useful in combat. You had no shield, and still, no experience. This cursed spirit was ravenous, high off an equal amount of cursed energy that had been forcibly poured into it. It would do anything for more, especially if it still had a continuous supply. 

Shattering glass eminated from behind you. You could sense Nobara’s cursed energy bursting to life from behind, beginning the erasure process.

In response, the beast bellowed in frustration. It was abhorrent, and the sound of bubbling flesh filled the warehouse as it split into two equally gigantic bodies. Bulging eyes and leathered skin only seemed to mimic the animals slaughtered to create it. It was as if a child had drawn a cow without knowing the correct proportions. 

Steam poured from their nostrils, and once it saw your flaring cursed energy, one of them bowed its head to charge. 

You threw your hands up in front of you, trying to summon your cursed energy as a shield. But its horns were sharp, and you were already fatigued. It was going to kill you, it should have killed you, but the pain never came. 

Do not release yet. A voice echoed in your mind as the ceiling started to vibrate, as rubble and dust began to fall around you.

The ceiling split open, and you were blinded by the outside sun, shining down on you despite the surroundings of evil, darkness, and death. 

Gojo crashed through the cement ceiling, teleporting in front of you and splitting the monster in two before you could even blink. The cursed spirit disintegrated before your eyes, and a flash of red filled the entire warehouse. It was blinding, blistering, ferocious. 

Once it disappeared, all you could see was Gojo. And suddenly, everything was in its right place. 

“Are you okay?” Gojo whirled around, immediately embracing you and cupping your face, relishing in your presence and touch. He inspected every cut and bruise that littered your skin, needing to make sure you were unharmed. 

The presence of Sukuna lingered. Gojo had felt the air shift on his way there, even from miles away, but he could not teleport directly to your side the moment Yuji called his phone. Only a few minutes had passed, and Gojo had killed multiple witches to reach your side, but he was finally there. 

He was supposed to be the smartest and strongest, and he would never be able to live with himself if his oversight had gotten you killed. But despite his worries, even though you were still alive and relatively unharmed, you were somehow different. 

To touch you, he turned his infinity off, but you were not bound to anything anymore. You were…changed. It lingered in the air and vitalized your cursed energy. 

“Where’s your blindfold?” you asked, looking away, wanting to look at him but knowing you shouldn’t. Your ears were still ringing, your head was still spinning, you felt more powerful than you ever had before and the voices in your head were desperate to see Gojo’s soul, to use his power as your own. It could happen if you let it, but you would never betray Gojo like that. 

All that mattered at this moment was that he was there. And all you wanted to do was collapse in his arms. But there were still cursed spirits surrounding the two of you, another portion preying on a weakened Megumi, and desperate Yuji. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” Gojo whispered. “Why won’t you look me in the eyes?” 

“I can’t...”

“Why?”

As the realization washed over him, Gojo couldn’t help but smile. Any other man would shy away, but he only felt his heart beat faster. You no longer had to look into someone’s eyes to see their soul. Your gift was now alive and unbounded. 

“My eyes…” you trailed off, while also pulling down the hem of your shirt to reveal the fresh scar. “I can see everything now.” 

The part of Gojo that wanted to keep you safe and protected was immensely concerned. Your cursed energy was potent, about to explode. You had been through a vivifying transformation and had made a heavenly pact. But the uncertainty of this bond was apparent, its limitations unknown and possibly unstable. 

The other part of him that appreciated everything about you, that had always craved to have not just a lover, but someone of equal strength, was insanely proud.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered tenderly, so softly that it called to your soul and settled all the uncertainties swirling in your mind. Gojo grinned, eyes grazing your entire body and the green aura that enveloped you. His thumb traced your jawline and beckoned you into a single, quick kiss. 

Your eyes fluttered, and so did your heart. His eyes finally met yours, his voice soothing and calm despite the mayhem surrounding the two of you. 

“You can use whatever part of me you need to,” he whispered. “Just look at me, please.” 

At his plea, laced with confirmation and understanding, you listened. Gojo’s eyes were crinkled in admiration, filled with so much love and trust that your knees felt like they were going to buckle underneath you. 

And it all came crashing in. 

Glimpsing his soul for the first time, and the indescribable color of it all, made you gasp. It was incomprehensible. But it still made you feel more powerful than you ever thought possible. 

The entire universe was at your grasp, and feeling an inch of his power was like a raindrop in the ocean. Every atom around you became yours to control. Fingers curled, eyes wide open, absorbing every color you could not see before. Every emotion, you felt it all. Everything. Infinity.

All of it surged into you. What beautiful colors. What a precious soul. 

“Finally.” You cupped his face so gently, as if he was fragile, eyes sparkling with awe.  “I can see you.” 

But most importantly, the soul bond snapped into its rightful place. Your rightful place was beside him, and it resonated so magically that tears pricked in your eyes. Seeing all of him and accepting this bond was unlike anything else. 

Gojo was your soulmate. The most beautiful white, the lightest yellow, what you assumed heaven looked like from above the clouds. The light that gave the forest below such a vibrant green, what nourished the essence of the earth and oversaw it all. 

“So?” Gojo whispered, the left corner of his mouth upturned like it always did when he knew more than he was letting on. He felt it too, and everything Tomoe told him made sense. 

“I think you know.” 

And that’s when you saw it, a grotesque, morphed horn was seconds away from impaling Yuji and Megumi. You predicted it the second before it would happen before Gojo could unfocus his attention on you. Aided by the soul bond, and the rituals of your ancestors, for thirty whole seconds, you were the most powerful being on the planet. A seer with comparable powers hadn't been born in centuries. And you, transcended the equivalent. 

As soon as the sky is colored green,

The chosen one realizes their blindness.

The Sanskrit translated in your mind, rushing thousands of years of knowledge into your brain—your prophecy. 

The only woman in history with the potential to wield infinity. The Yoroza coven’s most vital supreme. 

Next to Gojo, your fingers covered your left eye before abruptly parting. A heavenly essence settled in your soul. A soul now awakened with blessed, lethal abilities. 

The ability to control and predict time. 

“Domain expansion.” Your voice seemed to echo louder than ever before, the words leaving your mouth before your brain could process them. “Aurora Impendium.” 

It was one of the fastest and most seamless domain expansions Gojo had ever seen. Without so much as a stagger, everyone in the warehouse was consumed, trapping not just the special grade but also Gojo and the students. 

A sudden calmness settled over them all. 

Towering red oaks—larger than life itself, with a dark sky that shifted fluidly with a pure green aura. Pink and blue, purple and white. It was as if you were all transported to a desolate mountain in Alaska. The stars shined brighter than they ever had before. The colors glimmered with your movements.

“The northern lights…” Nobara whispered in awe. 

Yuji was dumbstruck, so much so that tears welled in his eyes. 

Megumi felt a strange sense of comfort. It was the same type that he felt in the vision. 

And Gojo, well… He fell in love with you completely and knew there was no going back now.  You were the woman of his dreams, the other half of his heart, and it resonated past his comprehension. He was entranced, and so was everyone else. 

As everyone processed the change of scenery, you walked forward to the cursed spirit who was frozen in place. Particles glistened as you approached, smiling softly at Yuji and Megumi before you faced the cursed spirit. 

So much pain. So much suffering. Churning in agony, writhing in pain and despair, faint voices of those unheard and forgotten. They were screaming, they begged for release from this mortal coil. 

Perhaps you’d been blessed with this ability for that very reason. 

Gathering your senses, you didn’t realize you were being watched by Gojo and the students. You closed the gap between yourself and the cursed spirit. It couldn’t move but it was aware, the veins on its discolored and leathery neck popped with agitation and primal terror. 

You entered its mind with a manner that seemed skilled, as if you had done this before. You saw its soul, and it left you perplexed, discovering something new, possibly something that no human had ever glimpsed the way you had. Something not human, yet still burning with souls. Deformed and mangled, an entity that could not be created nor destroyed, only transported to another realm. 

To its rightful place of peace and tranquility. 

“Be at peace, " you whispered through realms, gently placing your hand on its gnarled nose. Only a second passed before the curse started disintegrating, the body turning to dust, the soul releasing in sparkling fragments. One by one, the copies, the extensions of its life forms, faded into nothing. 

Ash filled the air, almost suffocating you. Your power and the epiphany faded away.

“Y/N…” Gojo stared at you with such a mystifying expression that you briefly smiled before stumbling. 

“Satoru…” you gasped, feeling your knees buckle, dismally so. How weak you had become. After wielding one of the most potent energies known, and making it your own, one look at him and you fell apart. How could a man make you crumble in such a way? To make you surrender completely from the mere sound of his voice?

One look at him, and nothing else mattered. Satoru was your home. 

When he brought his hand to yours, everything made sense. What a mercy you were, giving him everything he had prayed for. Gojo felt it at that moment, he felt the infinity in his hands. He thought he knew the world in its entirety, but being next to you was like discovering a reality reborn. All the spaces his mind couldn't reach, you could. All the gaps in his mind, you filled. You encapsulated every blind spot he had. 

You suffocated him intoxicatingly, and he would be damned if he let you slip through his fingers. 

For once in his life, someone was able to take care of and protect him. Someone finally understood what he went through every time he let his eyes surface. The burden of power was not solely on his shoulders.

Heavenly, you were. Powerful. The moon to his sun, everything, and more. It was you; it had always been you. The realization was overwhelming, and it was earth-shattering. Unless someone were to experience this moment, it would not make sense. It just clicked. You were so in love with him that you would do anything for him. 

It caused your body to shiver. You were made for him in every sense, in every moment, throughout space and time. 

“I knew it.” Gojo held you against him, tightly, as if you would escape, as if you would even think about leaving him. “You were made for me.” 

“I am,” you whispered breathlessly, grasping him desperately, feeling euphoric on the comedown. Three words. On the tip of your tongue, deep within your soul that nobody else could see, not in the way you could glimpse theirs. But Gojo could. He knew you in the same way you knew him. 

With that, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. It was as if a dam had broken, and his pent-up emotions poured out unto you. A rush of blocked water, of what was meant to be, as nature intended. 

Addicted, euphoric, Gojo deepened your kiss. He gripped you with entail, with need, causing a sigh to leave your nose. Parting his lips, his tongue danced along your lower lip, begging for more, begging for your whole mouth. 

And for a brief moment, barely a second, you let him. With smitten eyes, Gojo stared down at you, almost unable to believe you kissed him, was kissing him, in front of the students no less. Pulling him tight against you, your tongue met his with the same ferocity. He breathed in your scent and absorbed your taste. Kissing you felt natural as if your bodies had been made for each other.

“Please.” He pouted when you pulled away, as you realized the students were staring at you. 

“Later,” you whispered, knowing that hiding your passion for him was impossible. As you pulled away from Gojo, you noticed you were breathing with him in tune, breathing the same fire, from the same lung.

Eyes tethered in contract. The second you could get him alone you would take him. With a warm, gentle brush of your fingers along his cheek, Satoru pulled back and gathered himself, understanding your intentions. 

You loved him back. He could feel it, and there were no more questions. 

As Yuji stared at you, recognizing the same happiness in your expression and movements, all he could feel was joy. You were happy, and so was Gojo. That was all that mattered to him. And honestly, it made sense. Not that he expected your relationship, but it had never opposed him, and he had never had any distrust in either of you. If you deserved anyone, it was Gojo-Sensei. And if anyone deserved his eldest, newfound, but unique sister, it was Gojo-Sensei. 

You had saved him, just like Gojo had saved him. 

“It makes sense.” Yuji’s lip quivered. 

Megumi noticed, and even he had nothing to say. The truth was they all had known the whole time. You and Gojo made sense from the beginning, despite your attempt to hide it. 

“He’s different with Y/N,” Megumi said, smiling slightly as he turned to Itadori. “I’ve never seen him act like that with anyone else.”

“Did they seriously just make out in front of us?” Nobara asked with mock disgruntlement in her tone, scrunching her nose. But even her, despite her jokes, felt tender as she watched you embrace Gojo-Sensei. She could only wish to love someone as deeply as Gojo seemed to love you. But, loving someone as passionately as you loved him back was a feeling she wondered about. That type of bond and trust, was few and far between. 

A true soulmate. A type of euphoria that most would never find. 

From Nobara’s joke, you completely pulled off of Gojo, but still lingered closely, so closely that you let his arm slide around your waist. A bashful claim. 

“Is everyone okay?” you questioned with a smile. 

“Thanks to you.” Nobara smiled back, cracking under the pure light you managed to exude. A type of kindness, peacefulness, and grace unique only to you.

“Are you feeling okay Y/N?” Yuji asked, eyebrows creased with worry. 

Nodding, you sank against Satoru further. Only the slight sting of the gash on your arm remained.

"I'm just tired," you replied before your eyes fell into a slit; you leaned into Gojo and murmured quietly. “I need you now.” 

Like him, you were desperate for a moment alone.

And there was hardly a conversation before he teleported all of you back to Jujutsu Tech.

[lunaewriting]

The Healer: Table of Contents & Synopsis

TOC:

Synopsis

*This story is set in an AU without MC. There are several changes to the lore, but I've tried to remain faithful to it where I can! If there are any questions, please let me know.*

A mysterious silver-haired stranger saves a lonely immortal woman before disappearing. During their brief meeting, they are drawn to one another in a way neither can explain.

OC

Sirona is gifted with the ability to siphon lifeforce. This means she can heal others at the cost of her own lifeforce and siphon lifeforce/energy out of others to heal and strengthen herself. When she is injured, she can regenerate, but slowly. Sometimes, it takes hours, but if the injury is life-threatening, she will go into a comatose state and will not wake until her healing is complete. The duration of the coma varies widely based on the severity of the injuries

Sirona's passion is healing and helping others. She has an encyclopedic knowledge of medicinal herbs and uses them to aid her healing process.

[lunaewriting]

The Healer: Xavier x OC

Chapter 2: Pretty Little Lifeform

You just get to keep on living…

When Sirona’s eyes came into focus, she realized the body next to her was William. He died trying to protect her. The stench signified how long it had been. Days. Corpses littered the field, and all the buildings had been burnt to ash. 

Immediately, bile rose in her throat as she realized the disarray William’s body was in. He had been gutted, his entrails spilling out of his body and tainting the earth he had spent his entire life protecting and nurturing. He was gone, and there was no way to bring him back. 

These people, whom she considered family, had been decimated. No, not again. How could I let this happen? It’s all my fault.  

Sirona attempted to stand, but her legs buckled beneath her. Instead, she ended up doubled over William’s ruined body, his half-dried blood staining her skin. She gazed into his lifeless eyes, cloudy pupils staring back at her. She wished that she had fought more fiercely. Sirona had put everything into that fight, but it wasn’t enough to save these people. Now, she had nothing. When her pain and anguish reached a crescendo, she let out a scream of pure agony and then felt nothing at all. 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

Xavier was satisfied with how content Sirona had become. Since their fateful meeting, she was all he could think about. The all-encompassing aura of her soul enraptured him, and her eyes were like nothing he had ever seen before, gold but with a touch of purple. Xavier wished he could get closer to her, but watching over her recovery was the only option because of his rule. Sirona had been spending more time in the town and seemed happy. It was that thought that convinced him to leave the vicinity of the town to visit his friend Jeremiah in the city.

Jeremiah had been his friend for hundreds of years. They had trained together, traveled through spacetime together, and, over the years, he had become his closest companion from his previous life on Philos. Many others had abandoned him to reach their own ends or lost their minds.  But Jeremiah remained steadfast. He was a good friend and an even better man. 

When he returned from his short vacation, Xavier decided to check in on Sirona one last time. When he got there, however, he was shattered to find nothing but gore and rubble. Bodies scattered the dirt, bandits and innocents alike. Buildings had been burned along with the people inside. When he took a closer look, he noticed the bodies of the bandits were all gaunt and shriveled. It was Sirona’s doing; it had to be. Her unique ability had been her saving grace—siphoning her attacker’s energy to keep her alive. 

Xavier spotted green-black tendrils of mist rising from the town center, something he’d never seen before. The miasma of death was causing all life in the area to wilt and decay.  Only one person had that kind of power. He knew he had to act. If he didn’t, their environment was doomed to become a wasteland. The rules had just changed drastically. Countless lives could be lost. No one knew how far this could spread. 

With that potential calamity in mind, he ran into the heart of the miasma. 

The pain was excruciating. He could feel his life force being ripped from his body. But his pain only urged him to move faster. There she is. The aura of decay was originating from Sirona, as he suspected. He ran and fell to his knees before her.

“Sirona!” he rasped, cupping her face in his hands, which were already shriveling up and decomposing. 

When he looked into her eyes, he saw no awareness. She was dead to the world. The effects of the trauma had caused her to lose control. He knew that kind of loss all too well. He wouldn’t leave her. He had to snap her out of this. 

He was dying, and so he desperately screamed. “Sirona please!”

He exhaled hard in a last-ditch effort to save both of their lives. He embraced her. He guided her head to his shoulder and wrapped his other arm around her waist. 

Shocked out of her trance by the sudden contact, Sirona gasped as if waking from a nightmare. Then, the world went quiet. She felt the familiar warmth of another wrapped around her. She took in his smell, Xavier, her salvation.

 Xavier let out a relieved sigh. The pain of Sirona’s attack upon him subsided, and her miasma had dissipated. He felt his life force flood back into him. As well as the environment around them. 

She leaned into the embrace momentarily before quickly pulling back to look at him. In Xavier’s eyes, she saw recognition, which could only be shared between two people who had lost everything. He looked devastated for her. 

“They’re dead, they’re all dead. I couldn’t save them,” Sirona wailed. At that, it was as if the dam holding back the flood of emotions had broken within her. She could hold in her grief no longer. Sirona collapsed into Xavier’s arms and buried her head into his neck. Sobs wracked her body violently, and she gripped onto him with such force he thought bruises might form. His arms tightened around her as if he were trying to keep her from falling apart, but he knew that no matter how tightly he held her, it would not bring back any of the people either of them had lost. 

So, instead, they held each other as if they were the only people left on the planet. 

At that moment, Xavier knew that he could never leave her. Now that they collided, there was nothing that could break them apart.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, Sirona’s sobs had subsided. Silently, she stood, breaking her contact with Xavier. She may not have been able to save her people, but she would see to their eternal rest. 

Mindlessly, she grabbed a shovel and began the herculean task of burying all of the men, women, and children of her village. She knew them all. They deserved better than her. She prayed that they would forgive her for her dereliction in the afterlife.

Xavier watched as she began to work. Without a word, he joined her in her task. She did not acknowledge him. Sirona was too tired after the day’s events to muster a thank you. Together, they dug graves for every person. Finally, she placed an item of importance atop each of their final resting places. Her work had been completed, but as she finished, Sirona realized she had nothing else to live for. In a haze, she began to shamble aimlessly towards the woods. 

Xavier caught up to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stop walking and look at him. “Sirona, I am so sorry.” 

“So am I,” Sirona murmured impassively and tried to pull away to continue her purposeless endeavor. Xavier’s arm prevented her from doing so.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Xavier exhaled sharply. “Let’s just get you home.” 

Sirona looked over at him; truthfully, she was drained. She hadn’t eaten since before the attack.  The longer she walked, the more she stumbled before finally collapsing from exhaustion. 

He dropped down next to her, a question in his eyes. 

“It’s nothing,” Sirona said. 

“Please, Sirona, let me help you,” he whispered to her so gently.

“I don’t deserve it,” she croaked, looking at the floor beneath her.

“Yes, you do. Please, let me prove it to you.” 

With that, she nodded. Xavier smiled softly at her. He slung her arms around his neck and slid his arms under her legs and back. He picked her up tenderly. Too fatigued to resist, she rested her head on his capable shoulder and allowed him to bring her home. She could not keep her eyes open and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber. 

When Xavier finally reached Sirona’s cottage outside the village, he was surprised to see the vibrant garden surrounding her home. There were flowers and herbs of every variety. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Xavier looked down at her and smiled to himself.  She looked so peaceful in his arms, unimpeded by the horrors of reality. It would take a long time for her to heal from this, but he would be there to help her through it. If anyone knew what she was going through, it would be him. 

He carried her through the threshold of her home. The smell of jasmine filled his senses. It was long past dusk, but Xavier used his evol to make a ball of light to guide him. It was small and comfortably cluttered. There was one bedroom, though the couch in the center of the living room looked comfortable enough. With great care not to wake her, he laid her gently on her bed and covered her with a plush blanket. As he tried to pull away, Sirona caught his arm. 

“Please,” Sirona mumbled, still half asleep, “Xavier, please don’t leave me.”

“Sirona, I am not going to leave you,” Xavier said, brushing a strand of her chestnut hair out of her face, “I’ll be right here, but we both need to eat.” 

“Okay…” she whispered, content with the answer. Eyes half shut, she watched Xavier walk through her home before sleep overtook her again.

He was a terrible cook, but he knew Sirona was hungry, as was he. Xavier found his way to the kitchen. Each surface in the home was covered in trinkets of all uses, books, and crystals. The walls were blanketed with art, and some appeared very valuable. It was odd that such a young-looking woman would have so many time-worn items in her home.

An antique-looking ice box caught Xavier’s eye, and when he looked inside, he found it stocked with an assortment of dried meats, bread, and eggs, as well as a plethora of fruits and vegetables, likely picked fresh from the garden outside. Xavier then gathered wood and lit a fire to cook and warm the chilly home. Once the fire had been lit, he set upon making a proper meal for himself and Sirona. He settled for something easy, cracking a few eggs into the pan and warming some slices of bread for the two of them. 

“Hey, I made you something.” 

When he returned to wake her, she remained in a deep, mournful sleep. She was tossing and turning, her sleep obviously tumultuous. Xavier touched her shoulder and squeezed to jostle her from her nightmare.

Sirona awakened with a start. Her mind was torturing her with memories of the people she had damned. She looked around frantically, trying to discern where she was before her eyes finally settled upon Xavier’s worried face. At the sight of him, her heart calmed. It was as if his very presence was a salve for her broken mind.

“Sirona, I made something to eat,” Xavier repeated.

“Oh, thank you.” Sirona swung herself out of bed and hurried towards the dining room. It was a simple meal of eggs and toast, but it looked like a veritable feast to her hungry eyes. She sat and began eating, Xavier smiled and joined her a moment later.

Once every scrap of the meal had been devoured, Sirona again yearned for sleep, and it was evident on Xavier’s face that he felt the same. 

“Thank you for the meal, I’m exhausted,” Sirona said, eyes flickering towards her bedroom. 

“As am I. I’ll sleep on the couch,”  Xavier said all too quickly.

“Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I don’t mind!” he rushed, seeming slightly embarrassed. “Truly.”

“Well, alright,” Sirona conceded, wondering why a wave of disappointment washed over her at his insistence to sleep on the couch. Without another word, they both retired to their respective places of rest.

⭒✦✵✦⭒

In the dead of night, Xavier was awakened by a harsh scream. He launched himself from the couch and followed the sound to its origin. There Sirona lay, tears streaming down her beautiful face. Her knees had been brought up to her chest. 

“Sirona,” Xavier whispered hesitantly. Startling slightly, Sirona glanced over at him. The sorrow in her eyes made it impossible to resist approaching her. Gingerly, Xavier sat at the foot of her bed next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Sirona shook her head. “No,” she said hoarsely, “But if you wouldn’t mind, could you stay with me? It seems like the only time I can stop thinking about the attack is when you are close to me.”

“Of course,” Xavier said. “I won’t leave,” and I am beginning to believe I will never want to. The invitation resonated between them. Sirona opened the covers for him and beckoned him to join her. Xavier obliged as he crawled into bed beside her. Xavier thought of his own mind. No one deserved to go through what the two of them had in their lives, but fair or not, they now had to live with the scars. He would not allow Sirona to suffer in silence like he had for a millennium. No, she deserved better.

Sirona placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Xavier. You saved my life. I will never forget it. I do not know how I will ever repay you,”

Xavier closed his eyes and leaned into Sirona’s hand. “The only thanks I need is your company.”

⭒✦✵✦⭒

1894

Since that fateful night, Sirona and Xavier would rarely spend a day apart. They began that day as strangers but ended as life companions. For the next 10 years, Xavier and Sirona lived at that cottage in complete peace. Sirona often visited the village she used to call home to pay her respects. The two would also travel to the city to acquire new art pieces and peruse the latest exhibits. Before Xavier entered her life, she often opened a traveling cart selling herbs for various uses to make ends meet and purchase the occasional piece. With Xavier's help, they were able to turn even more of a profit. Their trips were always brief; being away from the village made Sirona uncomfortable. 

As the years drew on, Xavier began to notice Sirona’s stagnation. They knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves. Although his secrets still gnawed at him, he just could not bring himself to disclose to her what he truly was and what was to come. She assumed he was merely an exemption to mortality as she was. He wished the burden of immortality was the only one they would have to carry on their shoulders. There would still be a few hundred years of peace; he could pretend until then. But one day, that peace would be shattered. 

Xavier knew he cared for her... possibly more deeply than he was willing to admit to himself. The prospect of losing her would be a fate worse than death. She brought energy to his life that he was lacking.

Xavier thought back to those precious few months when Sirona was helping the town’s people. In all his time with her, Xavier had never seen her as happy as she was then. In the beginning, he had thought that Sirona just needed time to heal. Now, he realized for as long as she lived in this cottage that she would only be surviving, never genuinely alive. Xavier had repeatedly suggested they could move to a new place, but Sirona met every suggestion with an immediate no. 

It wouldn’t be fair to either of them if Sirona continued on like this for eternity.

With that thought in mind, Xavier approached her as she tended the garden.

She gazed indifferently at her beloved jasmine as she pruned and watered the plant. A task she had performed countless times. 

“Sirona, can we talk?” 

Sirona paused before looking over at him. He sounded especially serious. 

“Of course, you know you can talk to me about anything!” She managed a small smile. 

“I think it’s time to leave this place,” Xavier suggested firmly. 

An alarm sounded in her heart, no. This had been the only thing that Xavier and Sirona had ever disagreed about. She was bound to this place; there was nothing either of them could do about that. 

“That’s ridiculous. I can never leave this place.”

Xavier squeezed his eyes shut. He had heard that so many times, and it was becoming frustrating. 

“But, why?”

“I just can’t.”

“You always say that to me, and I have never pressed you on it. I always thought that if I gave you enough time, that you would eventually heal from what happened…but Sirona.” Xavier crouched beside her. “I can’t live another day knowing that you are living in the past, you are torturing yourself.”

She looked away. “The past is all I have, I did not even deserve to live through that day.”

He stayed silent for a moment, taking in her every feature. Her freckles came out in the sun; they peppered the planes of her face, framing her beautiful golden eyes. He reached out to caress her cheek.

“Please don’t think like that.” He understood what she was going through better than anyone in the world. Seeing this reflection of his own pain struck him to his core. 

“Xavier, this is not up for discussion. I am not leaving.” Sirona stood at that and began to walk away.

“No, I will not allow you to give up on yourself like this! You are still alive, Sirona. Stop pretending that you died alongside them.” His voice had an edge that he had never taken with her before. She stopped in her tracks. The words he said stung, threatening to open old wounds. 

And you just get to keep on living… 

She still would not look at him. “Enough, Xavier!” Her fists clenched. 

“No! Would you stop and look at me for one second?” 

Sirona raised her eyes to his as he closed the distance between them, grasping her face with his hands, making it impossible for her to turn away from him again. “Do you think your people would want you to waste away for the rest of your life?”

Sirona blinked, surprised at the sudden force of his voice. He had never raised his voice at her before. But then she realized the truth in his words. Mistakenly, she had felt that if she left this place, it would mean abandoning them. Leaving her people vulnerable and unguarded again, failing them even in the afterlife. She realized her folly; no one would ever hurt them again. Because of Sirona, their sole survivor, they were at peace. She was their legacy. To give up on herself would be to dishonor their memory. 

She searched Xavier’s eyes. “You’re right. I am sorry.” 

Xavier’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he said, “So you’ll consider it then?”

Sirona let out a long sigh. “Yes.” 

Xavier’s face broke into the most radiant smile she had ever seen. He hugged her, bringing her off the ground for a moment.

“Thank you for trusting me, Sirona,” he said quietly, cupping her face with both hands. Suddenly, he noticed how close their faces were. For an agonizing moment, they stood there, breath mingling. They both seemed incapable of looking away. Just as Sirona’s eyes fluttered shut, Xavier pulled away. 

He cleared his throat, “Well, where do we start?” 

[lunaewriting]

The Healer: Xavier x OC

Chapter 1: Mortal

1884

The night had gone poorly. As the bandits descended upon Sirona, she thought about what a hassle it would be to regenerate IF she regenerated. 

I will try to survive despite having nothing left on this earth. 

Though her body was resilient, she was currently bleeding out. Sirona could heal quickly from most injuries. But at the moment, the woman was testing her limits. It didn't matter, though; she had nothing more to lose. Death was an old friend of Sirona's. She did not fear him. 

For a split second, right before the predatory men tore her apart, she was blinded by a bright beam of light. It shot across the forest, and the monsters were gone, decimated, reduced to dust—a stark contrast to the rest of the bodies surrounding her—the ones she had dispatched. 

Rapid, heavy footfalls approached her. 

How careless to not notice another...

She knew she was utterly defenseless, crumpled on the dirt floor, her body rendered useless by the countless bullet wounds that littered her abdomen and lungs. She sensed that the end of her life was near. The woman took a final look at her surroundings; the church she had attended all of those decades ago, long reduced to ruins. The woods she would play in as a child. Sirona had lived a long time and had yet to age since she turned 25; she was permanently suspended like this and had been for well over a century. 

Everyone the woman had once known and loved had either died of old age or had otherwise been slain.  While she maintained a vigil over the town she grew up in, Sirona had kept her distance, not interfering unless there was a danger to the populace. 

She supposed that the town was the last thing she had in her life that still mattered to her. No one would mourn her. That's alright, Sirona thought. What was she to expect from this lonely existence of hers?

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her chin raised indignantly in the face of death.  At least, I want my end to be dignified…

Except the final blow never came. 

"Are you alright?" a surprisingly calm voice called to her. The voice was unfamiliar… yet… it felt like she'd yearned for it her entire life. 

The blood loss had taken its toll on her. She was veritably delirious. Her vision blurred. For anyone else but Sirona, this would be lethal. 

Her breath caught in her throat, and she coughed violently. Blood spurted from her lips as she looked up at the stranger before her. He was beautiful; his hair was like starlight, silver and seemingly sparkling under the moon's luminescence. He was tall and lean with broad, capable shoulders. From the second she looked into his enrapturing eyes, she knew she wanted to know him. Truly know him in a way that no one else could. His gaze held hers momentarily before breaking the connection and kneeling to examine her injury. 

She broke out of her reverie—Preposterous, pull yourself together. 

The stranger sighed, looking forlorn as if he, too, was about to lose something. "There is nothing more that I can do for you besides grant you a quick death,"

The woman was too weak to attempt a tough facade. Her voice cracked, "Please, don't lose hope for me yet. I am not as frail as most." 

Sirona's vision obscured further. She would be losing consciousness soon. It became increasingly hard to breathe.

His eyebrows knit together as he considered what she said. She had suffered from injuries in the past, but nothing this severe. The odds of survival seemed slim, but there was still a chance her body would miraculously reconstruct itself yet again. The blood loss had caused her to turn numb from the cold. She couldn't feel anything at all. 

"What's your name?" he whispered, probably to keep her conscious.

The stranger beside her was so warm despite his cold demeanor. That warmth… she craved more of it. How cruel life was to make her experience such warmth and yearning in her last moments. Something unattainable right before her closing eyes, as if taunting her.

"Sirona," she forced her body to say.

"I am Xavier," he suserated to her. He moved to wrap his arms around her.

Xavier. The whisper of his name in her mind and the warmth that enveloped her were the last things she remembered before blacking out. 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

"Leave her alone!" Sirona cried.

"And what are you gonna do about it, runt?" The beastly boy said as he threatened to kick the little girl who was already curled up on the ground from a previous blow. The town's children had been playing in the nearby woods when the little girl accidentally threw a ball that hit the brute in the head. Before anyone could react, he began to hit her. She was new to town; Mom and Dad told Sirona she'd come from the ocean. She was surprisingly tenacious but ultimately no match for her attacker. None of the other children were. 

"Hit her again, and I'll make you regret it!" Sirona screamed louder. At this point, many other kids began to get animated, their voices rising in volume, the noise likely to attract the nearby adults. 

The boy started laughing at her and gave the new girl one final kick before Sirona shrieked and ran towards the bully; she had never felt so enraged. She instinctively placed her hand upon his head.

The contact caused the boy to scream. Her hand was a harbinger of death. She felt invigorated. When Sirona looked at her arm, it was cloaked in a green-black mist. But she was too angry at the boy to care. 

"Sirona, stop!" her mother shouted in horror as the other children suddenly noticed what was happening to the boy. His body became shriveled and gaunt, and his screams became weaker. Sirona was forcefully pulled away by her father. 

"Lemme go!" Sirona thrashed around, desperate to feel that power rushing into her again. 

"Sirona, calm down this instant!" Hearing her father's angry voice, her fury dissipated. Sirona looked back at the boy. He was snot-nosed crying but was alright, and the color had returned to his cheeks. 

"What did you do?" her father demanded with wide eyes. She looked at the shocked faces around her. Everyone looked at her as if they had never seen her before. Sirona didn't understand what had happened. 

"I did something bad," she began to cry, just as shocked and afraid as the onlookers. 

After that day, everyone in the village treated her differently, even her parents—everyone except one: the new girl. After the incident, she approached Sirona and whispered, "I don't care what anyone says; that was pretty impressive." She outstretched her tiny, bruised hand. "My name is Nysia." 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

When Sirona awoke from the memory, she recognized her town's familiar sights and sounds. Of course, they would not recognize her, but she found herself comforted by the place she once called home. 

Realizing that her anonymity had been effectively destroyed, she bolted upright from the ramshackle clinic bed she had been lying in. Oh no. They knew her face now. She would not form attachments, not again. The loss had become far too much to bear. She looked at her body, taking stock of her injuries… they were gone. It was not a surprise, but it suggested that a significant amount of time had passed. Her body had never healed instantly. 

"I have treated many people in my time, but none who could survive an injury like yours. It was as if God himself was nurturing your recovery," said the kind-looking, older doctor. 

"How long have I been here?" she demanded roughly, wishing she did not need to hear his answer. 

"Only a few days. A girl whose healing ability can cure any ailment that afflicts her. No infection. I assume the dead band of marauders was your doing? A very odd state of affairs."

She tried to keep her face from blanching. She had been caught. However, her healing process had been vastly expedited from the norm, especially after that injury. Whoever this man was, he was very skilled in his craft.

These past several decades, she had lived in seclusion. Her garden was the only company she needed. 

Sirona admitted that, at times, her life could be lonesome, but she would rather have a day of loneliness than an eternity of mourning. She was accustomed to her hidden cottage. She had only broken her unspoken rule only once. Heartless as she yearned to become, Sirona could not sit idly by while a child was in danger. 

She protected the town but as a ghost. When the occasional highwaymen and bandits tried to raid her town, she always showed them a swift end. Though she did not know the townspeople individually, she loved them in her own way. As long as she was around, no one would lay a malignant finger on them. 

She moved to stand, "Thank you for your help, but I must be going now!" She tried her hardest to keep the panic rising from boiling over the edge. As she stood, the older man laid a hand on her shoulder, a tinge of recognition in his eyes. 

"There have been rumors of a guardian spirit that has protected this area for over a century. She came to me when I was a child… I will never forget her eyes; they were gold with just a hint of purple. I was deep in the woods, playing by a stream, when I fell into the water and bumped my head on a rock. The next thing I knew, I felt warmth and light; I opened my eyes to see her. I thought she was an angel. She must have healed me," he paused fleetingly as if savoring the memory, "Then she walked me back to the town's edge. That day, I realized that my life's purpose is to help people as she helped me. I never did get the chance to thank her… until now." A knowing glint appeared in his eyes. 

I remember that day. It must have been 60 years ago now. A little boy. Around the age of 5 or 6. I found him lying motionless in a creek. He would have died that day had I not intervened, bled out, or drowned. I healed him. I asked him his name when I was finished, William. 

After helping the boy, she found a small shrine had been put up in her honor. Her people occasionally left her gifts. The one most dear to her was a simple line drawing of herself standing next to a child. She could only assume it had been William who had penned the illustration, for he was the only one at that time who knew what she looked like. 

Sirona found herself speechless at the revelation.

"William," she said as a smile broke across her face. As she studied him, she saw the remnants of the little boy he once was.

William chuckled. "You remember me! Don't worry, I'll take your secret to the grave."

Relief flooded into her at that. "Thank you for everything," she said gratefully. William's voice sounded as she began to get up and walk away. 

"Before you go. Please have dinner with my family, you saved my life. I know that nothing will ever make up for what you did for me, but take pity on an old man who wants to try."

Sirona froze. Maybe she was weak, but the prospect of a warm meal and feeling like part of a family again lured her in. At the thought, she smiled.

"One meal…"  She conceded.

"Wonderful!" 

Still… one old memory haunted her above all the rest: Everyone around you dies, and yet here you are; you just get to keep on living. She jolted herself out of the thought. 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

In the following months, Sirona spent more and more time in the town. For the first time in decades, she considered the place home again. However, she would often get the feeling that she was being watched. She was almost sure she saw her strange silver-haired savior from the corner of her eyes. But,  she would convince herself that it was just wishful thinking.

In her younger years, she had been a healer. She began those duties again, helping William with his patients, and when standard medicine failed, she used her power to heal them. Her powers always came at a cost. If she overexerted herself, a deathly state would settle in. Her cheeks would hollow out, her skin would shrivel, and in extreme cases, she would fall unconscious for days at a time. Sirona was sure that if she were to push herself far enough, it could result in her death. 

For the first time in a very long time, Sirona felt happy. The feeling felt so foreign to her, but she relished in it. I can help people again. She had been a social creature long ago, and as she spent more time with the townsfolk, she realized she still was. She had always intrigued them; everyone knew she had done her best to keep them safe for generations. They were in awe of her now that she was in the open, beloved by all.

However, the townspeople were not the only ones who had taken notice of her. Sirona had killed many bandits and highwaymen during her years in seclusion. Men had lost friends or brothers, even fathers and grandfathers, to her, and they long prayed for retribution. 

It was late. Sirona often spent her nights in the clinic with William. It had been months since she woke up after the incident. After over a century, she finally regained her purpose—so many people needed help. 

Sirona had no idea how William managed this clinic alone for so long.  

Tonight, Sirona was helping William prepare a poultice of borage and chamomile for a young boy who had stepped into a shrub of poison ivy while playing in the woods.

Suddenly, Sirona heard gunshots and screams of terror. Her eyes caught William's, and they both rushed outside. 

The scene before them was something out of Sirona's nightmares. Buildings were being set aflame, and the townspeople, the people she now called friends, were being slaughtered. 

She had become careless, failing to maintain her vigil over the town. Her presence should have lessened threats; instead, it had put targets on their backs. And she would never forgive herself for that. 

There was no time to wallow in her folly, however, she needed to act. 

"Take care of the wounded!" She looked at William and saw the expression of devastation on his face. 

"NOW!" she yelled. 

The urgency of Sirona's tone caused William to break out of his trance. They both knew what was at stake. 

The old man burst into action. First, he focused on the children that he knew were still trapped in the burning buildings. It became clear to her that this had been meticulously planned. Without an accelerant, these buildings would never have gone up in flames so quickly. 

Sirona focused diligently on the bandits. The landscape was covered in carnage, and she witnessed one man, above all, commanding the masses to destroy the people she cared so deeply for.  

As soon as she left the clinic, some bandits abandoned their previous victims, turning their attention to her. She had honed her hand-to-hand combat abilities over the years but never faced up against the number of villains now advancing upon her. 

She chose to dispatch to the one closest to her first. The man aimed his revolver at her and pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed her cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Sirona did not even feel it. She had never shown these people mercy before, and now, for the first time, Sirona knew she would feel joy while killing these men. She grasped the forehead of the man and siphoned his life force, the action healing her cheek and instantly invigorating her. She would be damned if they touched any more of their people. 

After seeing what Sirona had done to the previous man, the others seemed much less brave. The fear on their faces was delicious. 

They chose to commit this horrific act, and Sirona was their atonement. 

The other men all raised their guns and fired. She was unable to dodge the onslaught of shrapnel. She was peppered with wounds and felt the searing pain as they punctured her heart and lungs. The rate of fire was beyond her ability to react. She couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter. She had to destroy these people. 

As they were trying to reload, she broke the wrist of one of the men, preventing him from firing again. Another chose to take her on from behind, attempting to drive the butt of the rifle into her skull. She caught his wrist with one hand, his jugular with another, and squeezed as she siphoned his energy. As he died, his eyes bulged in his skull before closing forever. 

She was a wolf patrolling her territory. 

The next couple of men had finished reloading and shot again with their rifles. These bullets further damaged her lungs and punctured her throat. Although she was now feeling the effects of her injuries, she felt unaware of them. Her vision blurred, and her eyelids became tediously heavy, but she knew she had to go on for them. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed William drag another child from a burning building. He was suffering the effects of smoke inhalation. William was coughing and sluggish. The man was old but cared so much for these people that he would do anything for them. Above all, she wanted to protect him, but of everyone in the town, he was the most capable of helping their people, and she had to allow him to go about his task. Sirona again felt the rush of adrenaline as she advanced upon the men; she dropped low and kicked the legs out from under one of the attackers; as he fell, she stomped on his throat, crushing his windpipe. 

The next man shot her again, this time in the shoulder; she looked down, seeing the butchery that had become her torso, blood. She knew she had to act fast. Her regenerative abilities gave her heightened resilience and strength, but she was acutely aware that her limits had long since been surpassed. Sirona's wounds could not heal as quickly if there were obstructions. Despite her fading consciousness, she needed to keep going. She threw a kick high in the air to strike another attacker in the chest, throwing him back. She used the advantage to launch herself on top of him. She clawed at his throat. The more she was injured, the more savage she became. The severity of her injuries meant that her momentary blackout was imminent. She just had to hold out; she had to. As Sirona dug into the artery in the man's neck, she relished in his screams.

In her ecstasy, she had forgotten to keep up her awareness of her surroundings, she had allowed someone to come upon her back. He gleefully clenched her chin in his hand as he tried to slit her throat. As the man she had set upon lay dying, she snapped her head to face her latest attacker. He was the leader of the group she saw earlier. He sneered at her, almost a grimace, as Sirona returned his gaze. He had brought about this carnage, he had caused the devastation of her people. He would die. Unlike the others, he did not wield a pistol or rifle but a sword. Good, all the more easy to tear him apart. She screamed as she launched herself towards him. She shoved him up onto a nearby wall.

She needed to know the reason he had chosen them to torment, "Why?" she choked out. 

He chuckled, "Because of you."

She saw nothing but red as she siphoned the energy out of him. When he was depleted, she realized how many more reinforcements there were, there were too many for her alone to handle. Blood filled her mouth, and she coughed. She could hardly see beyond the black veil upon her vision. She could no longer fight, there had been too many blows to her organs. She could only pray that her fight bought at least some people time to escape. 

At last, she fell. 

Everyone around you dies, and yet here you are.

[lunaewriting]

🍭

—

What we deserved

Back to making my own food again till we actually get kisses lol

-𝘔𝘓𝘘𝘊 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦-

[lunaewriting]

You're an amazing writer, its an honor that I am allowed to help you edit and brainstorm <3333

Suffocation: Gojo x Reader

Suffocation MLIST wc: 6, 100 summary: gojo makes an unexpected ally on your behalf, and discovers some VERY important information. (excuse the ugly layout tumblr is annoying me)

"When's the last time you old geezers saw something like this?" Gojo's voice echoed as he slapped your notebook on the ground before the Higher-Ups. 

The silence made him chuckle. 

Gojo loathed when he was forced to stand in this restricted, stuffy, yet ornate temple for longer than necessary. He hated them. The higher-ups gazed down at him from their pedestals with disdain, though they knew he could kill them at any moment. He would. It was just a matter of when. 

They always doubted him, as they doubted his birth, doubted every action he was required to report. There was never a moment for him, or anyone he loved, to breathe. They were all pawns, including him. 

Until you entered his life. A wildcard, a force of nature, a remnant of the past that struck fear into their hearts. Your existence shattered their perceptions of reality as they knew it. 

Once the pages turned, your cursed energy engulfed the room. The spell you weaved burst from the pages, displaying ancient art and prophecies of the past and future. 

But the present was all Gojo, his smirk tauntingly proud and unwavering. 

"Look familiar?" His head snapped to the left. His eyes guided him as if sensing the magical bond of your spell to a singular member of the Higher-ups. The only person he confirmed to be a woman, the aura surrounding her more potent than he ever suspected. It confirmed his understanding, his suspicions. And now, he'd backed your secretive relative into a corner she couldn't weasel out of this time. 

It was the first time he felt her gaze. It was different from the rest. It was an acknowledgment. Every other meeting, this Higher-up, Tomoe, was shrouded in mystery and never uttered a word. But the unveiling prompted her to fully open her eyes. 

And when Gojo caught her stare, all he saw was an everlasting, vibrant, and forever-giving forest. Trees that touched the sky and beyond. 

Gazing into her eyes was like staring into an older version of yours. Such wisdom in a young soul, such comfort, entirely and utterly the purest form of love that he would never be able to feel elsewhere. 

"What do you really mean boy?" Her voice was low and commanding, divining his intentions without even having to lift her finger. The other Higher-Ups remained mute as if obeying the same commandment. Those unaware of her power shall not interrupt. 

A perfect failsafe. Only those aware shall remember, one of the oldest spells in the book for those who studied it. 

"Nobody else knows?" Gojo smirked, noticing how long it took the clock on the wall to pass one minute. His infinity warned him he was being forced into an overwhelmingly strong spell, one so potent that the other Higher-Ups failed to notice. It was only him, and this grandma shrouded in mystery. 

"Of course not." Her voice almost shattered his eardrums. "Don't be coy now." 

"Don't play games with me, witch." Gojo hissed, pushing through the mystifying spell, through the threat of hallucination, knowing it wasn't from you. The remnants of your energy embedded into the spell enveloped the entire room. Your touch, comfort, and promises were the only things that pulled Gojo back to reality and helped him fight against the Higher-Up before him. 

"There are no games being played." She fired back, seeming to grow larger upon her throne. "Has she been marked yet?" 

Gojo only stared back through his blindfold, his silence alone providing the answer. For you, he would entertain the people he hated most. 

"A few nights ago." 

Tomoe sighed. Indifference was what Gojo noticed, not excitement or disappointment. "So… It's finally begun." 

"What has?" he pried. 

"The awakening." She paused, pulling back her hood and revealing a red-ink tattoo engraved on her wrinkled forehead. "We managed to keep her locked away for a thousand years. But now that Sukuna has your student as a vessel, he's manifested back into our realm, therefore igniting the magic that also keeps her subdued-" 

"Who is she?" Gojo interrupted, shattering the spell the current supreme was trying to suffocate him with, masking its intentions with your smell, energy, kindness, and taste. "It's time for answers, Miss Supreme." He managed to force out, feeling slightly dizzy. 

"The Yozora coven's strongest witch." 

Stronger than the woman before him? Gojo wondered, feeling the threat of slumber and tranquility infesting his mind, trying to pry in and snap into oblivion. It was so quick, like whiplash—that it took him an agonizing ten seconds to speak his true intentions. "You…You can read this spell, can't you Obaasan?" 

"Yes." Tomoe's voice echoed dangerously, with a tinge of surprise that he was able to fight through her hypnosis. 

All of the higher-ups audibly gasped. Some even shifted in their thrones with discomfort. Tomoe was one of only three sorcerers who was fluent in Sanskrit. The woman who occupied the smallest throne was the most threatening Higher-Up of the crowd. A stare that resembled daggers and certain death. 

Even Gojo would be hesitant to mess with her, but not when your life, future, and fate were on the line. And if he could do something about it, anything, he would. 

"Then tell me what it says, you old hag." 

Tomoe knew his reasoning. She had prophesied it decades ago in silence. Your scent was all over Gojo, your strikingly similar cursed energy was billowing from that damned journal. The oldest prophecy was near fulfillment. You were the final piece, and everything was unwittingly falling into place. 

That was what the magic in her screamed. The chosen one of their coven was finally reborn, a woman of their bloodline strong enough to destroy the blight that caused their historical downfall. 

"Let me get a closer look, you insolent boy." 

In front of watchful eyes, Tomoe raised her hand and pulled the book across the room into her lap. The pages flipped without assistance, your green cursed energy lighting up the candle-lit room. It was so powerful that even the supreme's eyes widened, her features illuminated by the cursed kanji. 

A moment passed, and everyone, including Gojo, seemed to be holding their breaths. 

Your future was on the line, and he couldn't stop himself from worrying. Either the Higher-ups gave him what he wanted and what was best for you, or he would gladly become the pariah they always suspected him to be.

"If this is true, we may already be too late…" she trailed off, seeming hesitant to reveal the translation. The prophecies you wrote, including the ones that foretold the past, seemed to hint at a revival. The dreams Tomoe had from your ancestors whispered of this upcoming revelation. There was no escaping The Onyro's return now. She would find whatever means necessary to take her rightful place beside her husband's throne; her vengeance and thirst for power were unstoppable. 

Tomoe cursed herself, wondering why she hadn't predicted this when Gojo Satoru was born. A man of equal standing to Sukuna was precisely what the women in her coven craved. They would do anything to strengthen the bloodline. 

"The prophecy envisages that the Onyro will return." 

More gasps and mumbles filled the blank space. It was astonishing news, yet not unforeseen. But incredulously outdated and devastating. Long ago, when the spell was created, and curses ran free across the land, the coven poured all their resources into their supreme, Kyoko, before she betrayed them. 

Legends and fables sprouted from the destruction Kyoko wrought alongside Sukuna, and when she passed, and Sukuna was defeated, her power and guidance weren't needed. This revival was no longer required and hadn't been for hundreds of years. But when magic is poured into the earth, it cannot be undone. 

It lies in wait for the opportunity, like Kyoko waiting for her master. Tomoe suspected that the second Sukuna retrieved his true form, he would first awaken his beloved. She was the only thing his cold, black heart cared about besides chaos and destruction.

"Our ancestors have chosen Y/N to be the next supreme of the Yoroza coven." 

Gojo was trying his best to keep up while confirming his own suspicions. He was the strongest sorcerer on earth; he knew that. The higher-ups knew that. The witches of your bloodline knew that from the afterlife, and they would do anything to ensure they received those benefits like they had in the past and would do so again—even if that meant using you in the process. Your feelings and your heart did not matter to them. 

"And Gojo… you are the desired partner." 

All the questions in his mind disappeared. His brain short-circuited, and his blood ran cold.  

"A unification this powerful hasn't been noticed since… Sukuna married his only wife." 

She was the most evil woman in written history who would kill and destroy anything for her king. A woman of legend, a blight on the Yoroza coven. All of a sudden, your gift of  prophecy had turned you into one of the most influential people on the planet—the only woman who could stop the king and queen of curses. 

The only woman who could keep up with him, the only woman who could outsmart him. 

For the rest of that meeting, Gojo's ears buzzed, his mind racing through every interaction with you, wondering where he failed, how had he let these witches infiltrate his life? Was this all part of your master plan? What kind of spell could you possibly cast on him? Did you even know you could? Had you cursed him without knowing? 

Had he… cursed you? 

Anyone but you. He would go insane. This wasn't supposed to happen. 

He didn't want to blame you. It hurt too much. Your absence would crush him. The mere thought of you was enough to brighten his darkest days, and he didn't want that light to vanish. 

Gojo needed you. 

Once dismissed, he waited impatiently outside the temple, pacing back and forth, trying to keep his hands in his pockets. Tomoe. He needed to speak with her. He needed to understand. It was all too much. Was this the betrayal he was expecting? Had you known all along? 

Gojo knew it was absurd, deep in his heart. But he had to make sure. This overwhelming feeling of love was so incredibly foreign. He didn't know how to operate with it, and it was like your presence blinded him. Just the thought of you was a distraction, but he loved it; he welcomed each and every moment with you. 

The front doors swung open, and Tomoe appeared. She had two other women adorned in all black following her. Black dresses, black veils, and black jewelry. 

Descending the steps, Tomoe's eyes fell on Gojo. He was clearly in distress, and she could only guess the reason why- a misunderstanding. Whenever men tried to understand the magic of a witch, they always seemed to lose their minds. 

"Are these feelings my own?" Gojo's voice was low, bracing himself for the words of betrayal. "Does your magic fuck with my head? Does it make me love her?" 

He gripped his shirt right above his heart. It pounded for you, it yearned for you…why? Was it even real? 

Tomoe realized it was the only time she'd seen the Gojo Satoru nervous. Did he really care for you that deeply? But she didn't show any surprise. She only glanced at him in an exaggerated sigh as if feeling sorry for him. "The Yoroza coven's magic has nothing to do with your soul partner." 

The way in which Tomoe said soul partner so casually baffled Gojo. As if she was certain, as if she knew soulmates were real, as if she'd seen it with her own eyes, as if she, too, had once loved someone that sincerely.

Watching his expressions spiral more deeply into confusion, Tomoe rolled her eyes. "You men are so fickle. You claim to be the stronger sex, yet fall to pieces in the blink of an eye from the simplest misunderstanding." 

"Harsh…" Gojo rolled his eyes but waited for her to continue. 

"Y/N being your soulmate is only happenstance. A particularly fortuitous one, in fact. This makes your bond to her stronger than any form of magic could mimic." 

Gojo's heart almost lurched out of his chest. That could only mean that everything you told him was truthful, that this connection he felt to you from the moment you met was genuine, it was real. To stop fidgeting with his hands, Gojo shoved them in his pockets. 

"Once a witch crosses to the other side, there is no intervening, only guidance. A sort of guidance that one wouldn't even notice. Y/N always had her free will intact, and none of us plan to take it away from her."

Tomoe glanced back at Gojo, turning her body slightly toward him.

"Unless…" 

"Unless what?" 

"She decides to follow in Kyoko's footsteps." 

Gojo was quick to answer. "She would never." 

"Desperation brings out the worst in us." Tomoe paused. "Dare you forget that the king of curses resides in her brother's body?" 

"The magic inside her will only grow stronger." Her eyes darkened. "It's still not fully understood, but it can make anyone go insane." Despite her initial explanation, the look on her face spoke otherwise. The banter she'd shared over the years with Gojo was only coming from a place of encouragement, or wanting him to improve. Not that she knew this moment would happen, but she knew the right man would step up in the way their coven needed. Potential men had come and gone. Dead and buried. 

Tomoe also knew that Gojo was the strongest and hated the higher-ups. They were always so pretentious and conceited. They always thought they knew best at the expense of the youth who would take their place. The one thing about the Yoroza coven was that they always prioritized and nurtured their offspring and invested all their resources into furthering their survival. 

And now the supreme knew about you. A woman who changed the man before her for the better gave him a new hope that wouldn't be present without your love and affection. 

And, of course, she was a little peeved that the ancestors hadn't made her aware until now. But, they knew best. If you were hiding in the shadows for this long, it had to be for a reason. 

So, Tomoe showed the most significant sign of respect she could, tugging her veil down. "I have an inkling that Y/N would do anything for you," she said, facing Gojo, bearing her forehead mark to him. It didn't matter if she could see his eyes. That was your ability, not hers. His intentions had already been apparent. "Lead her. Do what's best for her, even if she fights you on it. I still have yet to meet the new supreme, but I already know she is anything but oblivious." 

Gojo's eyes twinkled. He recognized the sign of respect and pulled his blindfold onto his forehead. "She's unlike any other," he confirmed, locking eyes with the supreme. The two of you were so similar, yet so different. And the Yoroza coven would require those differences, change, and innovation. "I will do everything I can to help."

It didn't matter now if he'd lumped Tomoe in with the other higher-ups. At this point, she was the only one who seemed to care whether you lived or died. And he would be stupid to ignore it, to disregard that Tomoe kept herself hidden for this exact reason. Of course, Gojo didn't fully trust her, but things were different now. He needed her to be on his side, and would rather work with her than destroy her and the coven that was tied to you. Her warning was heard loud and clear. 

Gojo couldn't believe it came to this, that he was willing to even ask Tomoe for assistance. But again, anything for you. He would put his past grievances on hold. "Help her, please." 

Tomoe full-belly laughed. "Not even a thank you? It baffles me that she wants anything to do with you. Are you positive you weren't the one to cast a spell on her?" 

"You suck granny." Gojo stuck his tongue out. "You wish I was, then you could actually tell me what to do." 

Tomoe silently cursed the ancestors for not granting them the power of mind-reading. Gojo was a jokester, and his words always had an underlying meaning. But, the more optimistic part of her made a smile appear on her lips. There was no reason to be so cynical toward Gojo anymore, not when he'd set his eyes on a member of their coven, possibly the strongest among them to exist. 

When Tomoe finally smiled, Gojo realized she was actually tolerable in a more private setting. You would definitely get along with her, and find all the answers you sought. 

Pulling her veil back up, Tomoe bowed her head. "I will visit on the next full moon. Keep me updated on her first assignment. Do not speak of this conversation to another, not even Y/N. Not yet." 

It would be impossible to keep anything from you. Gojo knew that, but he admitted internally that knowing you were soul partners was something he wanted to keep to himself for a while longer. Only because he didn't want that prospect to influence your decisions. Like Tomoe, Gojo wanted your free will to remain. 

"I had to pull a lot of strings to oversee this case." Tomoe looked at Gojo one last time. "Until next time, boy." 

Gojo watched Tomoe depart. The supreme always took the long way through the forest. Her cloak was perfectly hemmed so it did not drag across the earth. Her sandals were made of the finest wood, yet he was still baffled that she insisted on walking so long and far in uncomfortable footwear, even if it was traditional. The veil she wore was what was most intimidating. The ink red of the coven mark was visible through the black sheer, dark, wise, and all-knowing eyes staring back through it. 

A gift back to the earth, a protector of fertile soil. The foliage surrounding Tomoe's path home was vibrant and luscious, with so many shades of green that it could make up an entire color palette. A green so sharp, so unique, that the forest reminded Gojo of your eyes. The essence of life seemed to glimmer in your pupils, exemplified in your cursed energy. What an anomaly you were. 

Gojo was the sky, and you were the earth. In each other, you would find unbreakable foundations. One could not exist without the other. You were the moon to his sun. It was strange to feel this way, and even more confusing to be okay with it. It made sense, and just seeing you made him feel at peace no matter what other problems lingered in the distance. To see you as happy as you looked now, lying in the grass with your brother, was a gift. A smile in your expression, your giggle dancing along the tips of grass that surrounded you. A beautiful woman and her lively little brother. 

A reality where you were safe and sound, happy and protected. 

Staring at the sky, you found solace in comparing Gojo's eyes to the infinity that stretched beyond the stratosphere. The sky was not the same shade, his eyes were far more blue, but it was more in the impossibility to measure the limits.

You lay next to your brother in the middle of the track and field lawn, the two of you deciding to watch the sunset together. You'd been preoccupied with training and studying all day, so a breath of fresh air was welcomed—and talking to your brother. Everyone else was out, and you suspected Yuji wanted some time with you and didn't want to be alone. 

After you took him out to dinner, he begged you to show him the exact color of his soul. That's when you suggested this current activity–lounging about on the lawn until the perfect example revealed itself–an endless canvas sky displaying an array of reds, oranges, and yellows. Chatting under a magnificent sunset, one you would remember for the rest of your lives. 

Despite that, you couldn't help but gush about Gojo, even if it was just a little bit. You knew that Yuji had seen his eyes before, had witnessed his abilities months before you were wrapped into their world—but you had a different perspective. 

It was one of love, whether you could admit it out loud or not. Even if it was evident to everyone else, you didn't care. 

Turning to Yuji, your face softened, opting to open your questions to him. If your brother wasn't truly fond of Gojo, you might have to reconsider.  "You like Satoru, right Yuji?" 

"Satoru?" He raised his eyebrows. "You mean Gojo-Sensei?"

You blushed, realizing how bluntly you had revealed your true feelings about Gojo and how close the two of you were. "Yes…" you muttered, reaching up to shield your expression from him with your hands.

"He's always been kind to you, right?" you asked Yuji once your cheeks stopped burning. 

"Yes."

"Would you say he's a good fit for me?" 

"Oh?" Yuji snapped his head to look at you. "It's getting pretty serious, huh sis?" 

"I think so," you admitted. "I feel like I know everything about him already, but I just want to check in with you and make sure it's okay." 

"Even when I think about it, I can't think of anything bad." Yuji shrugged. "I don't think it's awkward. I just want you to be happy." 

"That's all I want for you as well, Yuji." You smiled, still staring at the sky, watching the clouds roll by, and the light reflect off the mist as the sun slowly descended. The cicadas were starting to grow restless, and as dusk approached, so did the crickets. "Once this is all sorted out and you graduate, you are more than welcome to live with me." 

"Do you think you'd like to live with Gojo-Sensei too?" 

"What?" You almost choked. "Where did you get that from?" 

"The last week or so, you've been sleeping in his apartment, haven't you?" 

Floored, you searched his eyes for any indication of a joke. "You noticed?" 

"All of us noticed." 

You couldn't even think of a reply. Nothing in particular happened. Nothing besides intimate cuddles and sloppy, desperate kisses between the sheets—but Gojo hadn't tried anything more with you. Being in his bed just felt right, and you would be a fool to say no when he asked you to accompany him. 

He'd become far more touchy with you over the last week, and you welcomed the affection with open arms. The promise he relayed to you before he left for his last mission was still alive and well. Even him promising to bring you roses. Before you even noticed the roses on your desk starting to wilt, Gojo stopped by with a fresh bouquet. 

It was perfect. And you would be a liar to say you were anything but happy. Standing next to Gojo made you feel more complete than you'd ever felt before. Despite the circumstances you and him were thrust into, anything seemed possible with his encouragement. Even if it hadn't been long, you yearned to wake up every day in his bed, with his muscular arms wrapped tightly around you.  Staring into his mystifying blue eyes, was something you would never grow tired of. A future with him, reverberated deep within your soul. 

You would look forward to his grunts of protest whenever you wanted to ditch the bed first, fighting against your own grogginess to make him a cup of coffee. Gojo's hands would reach for you, teasingly, trying his best to bring you back into his arms, only to release you when you mentioned what you would bring back. 

And his smile… Just knowing it was because of you caused you to blush. There hadn't been a moment when the two of you were alone that he wasn't smiling at you. 

It was too perfect. But maybe, just maybe, you deserved something of this merit. 

Laughing at your silence and how your eyebrows furrowed, Yuji tried to reassure you in the same breath. "Gojo seems happier, too." 

Your brother didn't need to confirm that it was because of you. He knew, you knew–and apparently everybody knew. Maybe the type of bond you had with Gojo was infectious; you weren't sure. All that mattered was the possibility of exploration and the comfort he provided you. 

"He showed me his eyes the other week. They are very beautiful." One of your hands began to nervously pull at the grass beside you. Just thinking about that moment made you flustered all over again. "His soul isn't blue though. I wonder what it is." 

"Doesn't matter much. I like the color of your eyes more Y/N, reminds me of healthy grass." 

Your brother was about to continue before you barked out a laugh, tilting your head to the side to glimpse his smile. 

"Really Yuji? Grass?" you teased, flailing your arm to lightly smack him. "Do I need to teach you how to compliment?" 

"What?" He began to laugh with you. "It's the greenest thing around!"

The vibrant green of the earth, forever wishing to join the endless blue of the sky. It was impossible for you to stare into the blue and not have the shade remind you of Gojo's eyes. You thought of him and his passion for teaching the kids and helping your brother. 

What you couldn't fathom at that moment was that you were literally the earth that grounded the strongest sorcerer, and you had the potential to do more. You would eventually be his equal, a fate written in the stars, in a similar prophecy that was everlasting and forever interlinked into infinity. 

Staring at Yuji, you knew you would do anything for him. His youth should not go to waste like yours had. You wanted him to have a family. A place where he belonged, with no signs of that changing unless he himself wished for it. A home, a safe place, with people that cared for him as much as he cared for others. 

The same sentiment was running through Gojo's mind as he approached the two of you, lounging in the grass, laughing without a care in the world. What was different about his thoughts was that he was also thinking of you.

"Is this what siblings do nowadays?" Gojo's voice emitted teasingly from a few yards away. Yuji lifted his head and you sat up altogether, intrigued to hear what happened in his meeting with the Higher-Ups. 

"How did it go?" you asked hesitantly. 

The man you were infatuated with shrugged, as if it was just another bump in the road. Everyone knew he was constantly dealing with these meetings. Being the strongest had its own form of burdens. But he didn't seem particularly upset or excited. That was until he noticed the concern in your expression with each second he didn't respond. 

How would he tell you this? How would you take it? There was no easy way to help you understand, and there was no easy way to deal with this. For anybody else, for anything else, he wouldn't care this much. With each day that passed, you became more and more important to him. Since he met you, he wanted to deny this feeling. And even if it hadn't been long, it felt right. And according to Tomoe, it was fate… written in the stars before either of you were born. 

"Someone special would love to meet you next month." Gojo smirked, brandishing your journal to you. That would be a conversation to have when your brother was not lying beside you with his feet kicked back. Not when the two of you were spending much-needed quality time together. 

"Who?" you questioned with wide, surprised eyes. You took your journal back and laid it beside you. 

"The current supreme of the Yoroza coven." He leaned down to an almost ninety-degree angle to stare at you. "She basically welcomed you to the family. Congratulations!" 

Giggling, your eyes immediately flickered to his lips, at the way his tongue nervously glided over them as he noticed your focus. If Yuji hadn't been watching, you definitely would have taken advantage of this position. 

"Is she nice?" you asked. So many other questions had the potential to surface, but all you could focus on was him. Your body language hinted that you were interested, but it would have to wait for later. 

"She's an old hag, but cool enough." 

Putting his hands in his pockets, Gojo's demeanor shifted. "She is definitely your ally, Y/N. That I can say for sure. And out of all the Higher-ups, I happen to like her the most." 

You smiled in response, nodding your head. "If you like her, I trust you."

"Be careful, Y/N, she might pass all her witchy powers onto you!" Yuji gasped. 

Turning to him, you rolled your eyes, playfully smacking his arm again. 

Once the laughter died down, you turned to a watchful Gojo and blushed. "Care to join us?" 

"Whatcha doing?" 

"Watching the sunset." Yuji replied for you. "She can show me what the color of my soul is if we get a good one." 

"Oh, I would love to see this!' Gojo pumped his fists in the air, before plopping down beside you. You laid down until your back touched the previous imprint in the grass. Chuckling, Gojo snuck his arm under your neck. You sighed blissfully in response. 

"I need a better view," Yuji said, shifting positions so he was leaning against your shoulder. You lifted your arm and welcomed him. A few minutes passed, with your two favorite boys snuggled against you, both of them chatting about random moments, about class, about what training they could work on together as the sun continued to descend to the horizon. 

Listening to them, an enormous smile spread across your face. They were your home, your safe haven. 

And finally, the exact sunset you imagined filled the sky. "There!" You pointed excitedly. "It's perfect." 

It really was the perfect example, by far one of the best sunsets you'd seen in awhile, possibly even years. The warmth, comfort, innocence, and consistency of such a gorgeous display of colors was the same feeling you gathered from the pure essence of Yuji's soul. Boyishly wise but also rambunctious. A comfort, a friend to rely on and trust. Someone that cared, that would do anything for the people he loved. 

What a wonderful boy he was. He could only be compared to the sunset, a setting far more beautiful than the sun itself. A certain mood, a certain feeling. Yuji invoked all of that and so much more. 

The three of you stayed there until the sun vanished, casting a relaxing, dark blue hue across the sky. It was a perfect midnight, illuminated by the moon, which reminded you of the calmness you saw in Megumi's soul. 

Now that it was revealed everyone was aware of your late-night sleepovers in Gojo's room, you walked with him straight there after wishing Yuji a good night. Hand in hand, you smiled at him sleepily, not wanting to admit how nervous you were for your first mission. 

Of course, you had a bad feeling about tomorrow. But, you didn't know if it was just nerves or something more. 

Just like the night before, you found yourself tangled up with Gojo in the sheets, letting him kiss you all over, letting his hands knead out the soreness from your muscles. "You'll do amazing tomorrow, Y/N," he whispered, nipping your earlobe. 

Giggling, you turned to face him. "I appreciate how much faith you have in me." 

"It's not just me, Y/N," Gojo said. "Your brother does too, and so does your coven." 

"You talked to the coven?" 

"I talked to Tomoe, your supreme…" he trailed off for a moment, debating on how he should tell you, and how you would react. But he didn't want to hide everything from you. It wouldn't be fair. "They want you to be the next supreme." 

Your head snapped up and tilted to lock eyes with him. "They do?" 

"When you're ready, of course," he added, watching the shift of your expression. "There's no need to rush yet, and please, don't get nervous. If anything, its more of a formality." 

That was a lie. You knew it from the rush that twisted your gut at the mention of such responsibility. You knew it from your dreams, from the prophecies that had been building up in recent years. Something more was always destined for you, and now it was all falling into place. 

"I know what it means, Satoru." You reached out and cupped his cheeks, beckoning him to cover your body with his own. "I'm not scared of my destiny, more so nervous of how I'll get there." 

Gojo's eyes traveled over your face hungrily, seeming to take in everything about you—your expression, your thoughts, your desires. He wanted all of you so badly. 

In the next movement, you were gasping for one another, gasping for air with bodies pressed close, hands traveling, touching, and gripping, sending sparks of electricity off between the two of you. But that was where you stopped, not daring to take it a step further that night. Gojo was always so respectful of your boundaries, and you cherished that. 

"When can I have you?" he whined, caressing the inside of your thighs which were hanging loosely around his head. 

Raising an eyebrow, you smirked at him. "I already told you when." 

He loved this confident side of you, the part of you that wasn't afraid to tease him, to make him wait, and remember that you were in control when it came to this relationship. God, he was obsessed with you. He worshipped you. Gojo knew the reason why, and it made him feel powerful. You were his soulmate. 

He kissed the flesh of your thigh, sighing as if you wounded him. "You're right, can't distract you before your first mission." 

"Oh?" 

Tracing circles along your abdomen, he smirked, speaking in a high-pitched tone in an attempt to match your own. "Gojo's just so dreamy…all I can think about is what he did to me last night—ah!" he gasped, crawling over you before burying his face between your breasts and blowing air, making you squeal in response. "And then bam! You get hurt." 

He lifted his face with a pout. "We can't have that, can we?" 

"No we can't, idiot." You crossed your arms over your breasts. But, you were smiling, as Gojo never failed to distract you and prevent your thoughts from wandering. 

"And I'll be just a call away, okay?" He pressed a kiss to your forehead before sinking into the bed beside you. "So don't worry too much." 

You pulled the string of the bedside lamp off and snuggled up to Gojo in the darkness. The beat of his heart once again lulled you into a peaceful slumber, the firmness of his muscles wrapped around you, making you feel safe and protected. 

You weren't particularly excited for tomorrow, but you were hopeful. If Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age had this much confidence in you, this much faith, maybe you were underestimating your abilities. 

If you were to be the next supreme, tomorrow really mattered, and you had to show up for it. 

Anything to keep those you loved safe. Anything and more. 

Turning your head to press your lips one more time against Gojo's, you were certain that he fell into that category. Something inside of you whispered that this was meant to be, and that you would be a fool to not give him your heart, your soul, and your body. 

And for Gojo, well, he finally felt complete. He would tear the entire world apart if anything or anyone threatened you. Ever since you came into his life, it was as if he saw color for the first time, as if he could finally see how the world really was without being forced upon the most extraordinary pedestal. 

"You make me see the world differently," he whispered, pulling you closer into his chest. He inhaled the scent of the floral perfume in your hair, which tickled against his skin. "I will forever be indebted to you for that." 

He always got so sentimental at night. You thought but relaxed against him nonetheless. You wouldn't have it any other way. 

The only response that lingered on your tongue was three life-changing words, that you never thought you would admit. You loved Gojo. In such a short amount of time, you found the man you would do anything for.