#come watch me be a clumsy dumbass | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mediumgayitalian · 11 months ago

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“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”

775 notes · View notes

pha55ed · 5 months ago

Text

Everything I Know Abt Love || JMM21

type :: fluff tw/cw :: dumbass painfully oblivious!reader (their so me-coded) summary :: reader has been crushing on pepe since they were children, but is trying to get over their crush with a different driver. but that's impossible because it's fucking josep maria marti.

request :: can you write smth with pepe marti :D was thinkin something along the lines of the song “everything i know about love” by laufey. heavy mutual pining with an eventual confession and pure fluff <3 ur page is so nice and ur writing is so so so good 🫶 (AHH thank you so much! <3 you're so sweet!)

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

liked by jakcrawford, christianmansell, sebastianmontoya, and 82,000 others

yourusername : Alexa, play So American by Olivia Rodrigo

yourbestfriend : YOU GOT ICECREAM WITHOUT ME???

yourbestfriend : wait a minute... 🤨

yourbestfriend : IS THAT A MAN....???

yourbestfriend : IS THAT P...?

yourusername : Noooo girl i need to update you so bad

jakcrawford : Your flavor looks like charcoal dust LMAO

yourusername : it looked purple under the store's lighting 😭😭

christianmansell : where's my thank you???

sebastianmontoya : what... 😀

pepemarti : same... 😀 sebastianmontoya : im coming over christianmansell : wait why??? sebastianmontoya : YOU CAUSED THIS YOU IDIOT

The date with Jak was sweet, almost perfect. He picked you up and called you beautiful, gifting you flowers. The entire time he was respectful, listening to you, and making you laugh. He was cute too, curly brown hair and an adorable smile. Everything should led to you liking him. Yet you couldn't.

The entire time you were still stuck on Pepe. Thinking about how Pepe would have gotten you flowers, but in your favorite color. How Pepe's hair was much softer despite being shorter. Not to mention that Pepe's smile is your favorite thing ever. It's not Jak's fault, he was lovely in every way possible. But you just couldn't imagine loving anyone else beside Pepe.

You grew up with Pepe, meeting at 11 year olds from watching your brother in karting. The rest is history. You met his friends and quickly formed a quad, with Pepe, you, Sebastian, and Christian. Throughout your entire childhood, you had a fat crush on him. But you could never tell if he liked you back or not.

But to Chris and Sebastian, it was painful to watch you both. They could tell that you both liked each other, maybe even loved each other. But you both were so awkward with each other that it seemed like you were friend-zoning each other.

Like for example, Chris and Sebastian tried to set you up both up by making a fake hangout. They planned a whole day of going to the beach and eating dinner, only for them both to get "sick" last minute. So it was just you and Pepe alone for the whole day, going to the beach and a fancy dinner.

Yet you guys still managed to turn one of the most romantic scenes into the most goofy and awkward. Collecting seashells, seeing who can hold their breathe longer underwater, and making a mess at dinner like you two were just clumsy and awkward best friends. When in reality, both of you were on the verge of a heart attack every time you accidentally touched.

So now you were stuck, alone in your room. Torn between either moving on or sticking with Pepe.

You barely had any time to think to yourself, because the very next day you were forced to attend the boys' Racing Sponsor party. Although you never liked going, it was fun with your friends and the food was always amazing. The only major cons was that the party was filled with business people trying to network and get new sponsors, but they usually left you alone once you just said you were a friend of the drivers.

So now instead of being alone in your room, with your thoughts eating away at your brain - you were alone at the large dining table. Seb promised to stay by your side, but he was pulled away by his engineers to try and talk to a fancy gasoline company so they could sponsor him. Chris also promised to stay besides you, but he was also forced away to go to a special engineering company. Pepe and Jak were also busy doing a ton of interviews and connections, they were very sought after.

You sighed, unable to help but just sit in your boredom as you picked at your food. Now you were wishing that those annoying business men would try to talk to you again just so you have something to do. Using your phone wasn't an option either, 1. because it's rude to do and 2. because your dress didn't have pockets so you stupidly gave it to Seb to hold onto.

But just as you were about to count the petals dead floral centerpiece in front of you, Jak sat next to you. Fuck, you thought.

"Hey!" He said, wearing a black tux just like everyone else in the room. "You look so bored haha"

His small chuckle was charming and cute, he was so "boy-next-door" coded. Jak's curls were a bit more defined and his suit had almost no imperfections on it. He obviously paid deep attention to his suit. You watched as he started to fiddle with his tie slightly as he sat next to you. It was clear he was a bit nervous around you, trying to put up a good first impression still.

"I can't lie, I am a bit bored." You say with a smile at his attentive nature. "I'm just waiting for it to be over so we can all go out and play games at Chris's house."

"We?" He asks, quoting you before connecting the dots as to who 'we' was. "Oh! You, Pepe, Chris, and Seb, right?" Jak tilts his head slightly, like a dog.

You simply nod, taking a mental note of how much of Jak resembles a golden doodle. One of the cute golden doodles, not the ones' with ugly human eyes. You wanted so badly to like him. It wasn't like you weren't aware of how cute and sweet he was. Yet your brain just wouldn't allow yourself to feel a spark between you two.

"Well uh, would it be okay if I joined?" Jak asked nervously, looking in your eyes.

Before you could answer, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Although you hated how embarrassing it was to admit, you could already tell who was touching you just by the fingertips and vein on the back of the hand: Pepe Marti.

"NnnnooOOO!" Pepe said, making you want to laugh but you knew it would hurt Jak's feelings. It was clear he had quite a few drinks, most likely due to the businessmen always pressuring the drivers to have a few shots. Mainly so they could take advantage of their drunken state and get them to sign any deal they wanted.

"Oh uh..." Jak sat their awkwardly, looking at how close Pepe's body was to yours despite him hovering above your chair. "Hi Pepe,,,"

"Hi JAK!!!" Pepe said, quite loudly, "Or should I say JAK - ASS!!! Hahaha,,, ha..."

Pepe's entire fucking head and neck turned to you, trying to see if you laughed at his awful joke. When he sees that you didn't laugh, his smile instantly died. You could tell that he was cringing at himself.

You knew you needed to get Pepe out of the room, before he does anything stupid. So you quietly excused yourself from Jak, apologizing for Pepe's lame joke. Although Pepe was perfectly able to walk over to you and Jak, all of the sudden he began to act as if he's never walked in his life. So he clung onto your waist, using that as support while you both exited the party.

It didn't make much sense for him to hold your waist for support. Holding onto your shoulders or even your head would make much more sense - but he insisted on holding your waist. But you weren't going to complain when he hand perfectly fitted there. And you definitely weren't going to complain when he was pulling you closer to his body on instinct, as if he was a magnet attracted to you.

You struggled to get his tall body into your small car. But you did it. Now you had to struggle with getting the buckle on him. Not that he's fat, far from it, he's quite lanky and lean. The struggle came from the fact that Pepe was insisting that he should drive. That the man should always drive the woman home. He even drunkenly giggled and said, "If I driveee, then we couldd kiss at red lightssss!"

He said that while looking up at you with a shit eating grin. As if he was trying to see if you would blush at his joke, which you did. And as if his cute giggle and smile weren't enough, he did a stupid little fist bump in the air after making you giggle, as if it was an accomplishment. He has never ever been this flirty with you, making you unsure of how to handle him.

You can't help but laugh even more at his stupid acts. And from your laughter, Pepe finally sat still for once. He was stuck in his seat, staring at you, completely star struck. His big dark eyes starring up at you while you giggled, he looked as if he's seen the Northern lights. His lips were slightly parted, mainly because he was tired from fighting you away from buckling him, but also because his breathe was genuinely taken away from his lungs.

And that's when you felt something click in you.

At that exact moment, when Pepe was looking up at you with big puppy eyes and kissable kips - you realized that you would never ever be able to replace Pepe. You would never be able to settle and date Jak just to move on from Pepe. Because in one single moment of Pepe barely saying anything, he made you feel more cherished than Jak did within your entire day. Because in one single moment of Pepe's eyes staring in yours, you felt your heart pound faster than it ever did when Jak gently held your hand at night.

You knew you needed to tell Jak soon. Although you knew that you and Pepe weren't an item yet, you were determined to get him to be yours. And for the first time within almost a decade - you felt as if you had a chance with him.

As you dragged Pepe behind you, you safely managed to get him up the stairs and into his apartment. It was a cozy place, with tan and beige furniture decorating the place. There were photos hung up of his friends and family, shelves filled with comic books and gifts from fans. It felt warm, homey despite it not being your home.

Due to Pepe's strong grip on you, as if he was glued to you, you were forced to throw him roughly onto his couch. You sighed out of relief from finally getting him to settle down. You were beat, ready to go sleep asap. Meanwhile Pepe was the exact opposite. He was still giggling and giddy despite there being nothing funny happening.

His smile was permanently on his face, but you weren't complaining. As you slumped down next to him, you could still smell the alcohol in his breathe. He lazily threw his hand on your thigh, looking at you before saying "You're so farrr".

The lazy grip he had on your thigh quickly turned into an overpowering grip, as he easily pulled you all the way close to him. Even though he got what he wanted, you being right beside him, his hand didn't leave your thigh. You were left in shock, never ever seeing this side of him. He's been drunk around you before, but never this drunk. You're lost on why he felt the need to get so drunk today, especially when he knew being drunk was a huge no-no at sponsor parties.

When Pepe saw your eyes widen, he instantly copied your expression. His hand left your thigh in a flash and he scooted away from you by a foot. "I'm sorry, did you not like that???" He asked, his words not slurring as much.

"No no, it's okay." You said as you looked at him, his shoulders relaxing at your words. You wish you could say the same, your shoulders were killing you now from having to bring Pepe up a whole flight of stairs.

Rolling your shoulders didn't help the ache, making you slightly wince at the soreness. Pepe, despite still being drunk, could tell it was because of him. He looked guilty, scooting a bit closer to you.

"I'm sorry," He said softly, the most gentle you've heard him all night. "I shou' have gone home on my own."

You shook your head, "Definitelyyy not, you would have crashed your car into a family of five or something."

"Better than hurting you," He said almost in a whisper. You watched his face scrunch up. He let out a light burp and threw his head back onto the couch. "God I feel awful already."

On instinct, you were about to get off the couch and get him some pain medication. But Pepe's arm shot out, blocking you from getting up.

"Not physically." He says, "But,,, mentally."

You tilt your head slightly, confused at what he meant. He looked into your eyes, able to tell that you had zero clue at all what he meant. A sigh left his lips, as if he was tired despite him being the one that got dragged up a flight of stairs and a ride home.

"I'm sure you'll feel awful physically soon." You say, "But why do you feel hurt, mentally?"

"I just," Pepe's voice was stuck, unsure of how to word himself. He let out a few murmurs but it wasn't actual words. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making him unable to speak or if Pepe just didn't know how to word what he was thinking. You were assume it was both.

He knew he wouldn't be able to outright state what he was feeling, so instead he opted for questions. "(Y/N), be honest with me." You nodded, shifting in your seat to face him. His tone sounded serious. "How do you feel about Jak?"

You assume he must have felt awful mentally for his rude jokes to Jak. "Oh, Jak is cool. If you're worried about your joke to him, I'm sure he'll just brush it off."

"Are you close now?" Pepe asks, completely ignoring your answer to his question. "After that date you guys had, seemed like fun." He says, his eyes not looking at yours. As if he was too scared to make eye contact with you.

"Um, it was fun. But I mean, I didn't feel a spark or anything-"

"Don't lie."

You were frozen, unsure of what to say. "I'm not lying...?"

"I see how you laugh at his jokes, how he looks at you, how you smile at him." Pepe says slowly, "Do you think you like him?"

His tone was so serious that you were caught off guard. But you knew the answer to his question now, thankfully you realized it this night. "No, I think we're just gonna be friends. He seems super sweet and nice, but not for me-"

"Then who is for you?" Pepe asks, this time looking at you. There was no smile on his face, instead a look of investigation. A look that seemed as if he was trying to put a mask on, to protect his feelings from getting hurt.

You knew the answer to this question to. But you weren't able to say. All you were able to do was stare into Pepe's eyes, watching them soften as he looked at you. You swallowed and broke the eye contact, feeling too intimate to keep staring into his dark eyes.

While you were looking away, Pepe scooted back close to you. Your knees touching. Although your head was still turned away, too flustered to look at him and unwilling to give him an answer. Pepe was staring right at you, his entire torso turned towards you to examine your whole body and features.

You didn't want to turn your head around and face him. You could tell that if you did, your faces would be only a few inches away from each other. Close enough to make your breathes touch each other faces. Although you were trying to look away from him, his hand gently reached for your face. There was no pressure in his grip, instead it was lightly guiding your head to face him.

Now your faces were close, eyes locked in, and bodies only a few inches apart. You looked at him, holding your breathe in fear that it stank from eating. His eyes and face were no longer tense, it was soft and looked as if he was pleaded. It looked as if he about to beg you for something, which he did:

"Please, please say it's me." He said in a whisper.

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

#f2 #formula 2 #pepe marti #pepe marti x reader #josep maria marti #jmm21 #jak crawford #sebastian montoya #christian mansell #f2 smau

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vivwritesfics · 6 months ago

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Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Eleven - Motels

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Series Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner), talks of non consensual groping. she gets called a whore, choking, SA, 'missing' birth control, blood, pregnancy, hint at child abuse (not explicitly written)

Series Masterlist

The car was packed up, and she was in the passenger seat, waiting for him. Bob, though, was focused on other, more important things.

Natasha stood in front of him, nodding along to everything he said. He was being an overbearing mother, the both of them knew. But this was Frodo we're talking about, and there was no such thing as overbearing when it came to Frodo.

"One tin of food in the morning and one at night," Bob said as he placed his house key into Natasha's palm. "If he wants brushing, he'll let you know. But if he gives no indication, don't brush him. He should be okay all day on his own but I don't know how he'll react without me there."

Natasha closed her fingers around the key. "Bob," she began, her voice full of scepticism. "You know he's a cat, right? Frodo is gonna be just fine with me." She looked past him, at the woman waiting in his truck. "There's someone that needs you a little more than Frodo does right now."

She was right, and Bob knew it. "Thank you for doing this, Phe," he said and Nat gave him a nod. No sappy shit, that was that they'd said when they were the pair selected for that mission all those years ago. And it stood today, no sappy shit.

"You do what you need to," she said and backed towards his house. She raised her hand in a wave and said, a little louder this time, "We'll be there when you guys get back! Have fun!"

Bob walked back towards his truck. He gave Natasha one last wave as he pulled open the door and climbed his way in. "Ready to go?" He asked the girl in his truck, the one that had been watching his entire exchange with Nat.

She sucked in a breath, hand settling on her stomach. There wasn't even a bump, but the response was involuntary. She'd been doing it ever since she'd taken those positive tests. "Ready," she said and blew out a breath of air.

There was no reason for her to be nervous. She wasn't the partner meeting the parents for the first time. No, she was the friend in a shitty situation, being helped out by the sweetest man in the universe. Because that was what Bob was, wasn't he? The sweetest man in the universe.

He started the truck and pulled out of the driveway. They waved at Natasha from where she stood in the doorway, until she disappeared into his house. "When was the last time you went home?" She asked as they drove down his street.

"Not for a while," Bob answered honestly. He swallowed, his palms hitting the steering wheel as he turned right at the end of his street. "I should have visited them more, but I thought that they'd be-" He sucked in a breath, all signs of his nerves. "-disappointed."

Immediately, she shook her head. "Bob, you're in the navy. Why the hell would they be disappointed in you?" She turned towards the window. She muttered something under her breath, something that sounded like 'fucking dumbass'.

There were several stops planned on their trip up to Montana. They had to, it was a twenty-one hour long trip. "Wanna start on the snacks?" Bob asked as they headed out of the state.

She looked back. A series of snack foods were sitting on top of the few bags the two of them had packed. She grabbed the closest one, a bag of chips, and opened them. With his eyes still on the road, Bob reached into the bag and pulled a handful out.

"Barbecue ribs, my favourite," he said as he ate them.

She turned up the volume of the radio. The eighties station, it was very Bob. Her head moved slightly as Bob sang along, entirely unbothered by the way she was watching him. But she wasn't staring out of judgement. He was so comfortable around her, so free. She loved it.

They stopped for lunch just a few hours into their journey. Bob help her hand as he helped her hop out of the truck. "My mom is gonna make us the best food when we get there," he said as they walked towards the diner.

They were walking so close, so close that she knew she should have been touching him. Holding his hand or walking with his arm around her shoulders. Even if they walked with his hand on her not yet there bump, she wouldn't have minded.

They walked into the diner and slipped into a booth. "What are we hungry for?" He asked as he opened the menu.

"Grilled cheese," she answered without looking at the menu.

If it was a grilled cheese she wanted, it was a grilled cheese she was going to get. "No worries, Doll," he mumbled as he stood. It would have been so right to press a kiss to the top of her head before he headed over to the counter. But he held himself back and strode over, giving their order and their table number to the waitress.

Their stopover in the diner was very short lived. They ate their food before they hit the road, half a grilled cheese sandwich in a takeaway box.

The motel Bob had in mind was only a few hours away. With her belly full, she couldn't hide her yawns as Bob drove on. "We'll be there soon," he mumbled. He went to pat her knee, but thought better of it. His hand settled back on the gear stick.

Bob didn't know when she fell asleep. He turned the radio down slightly and took a second to look at her to make sure she was comfortable.

Just an hour later, Bob pulled into the motel. It was definitely dingy and grimy, and certainly not the sort of place he wanted to take her to. It should have been a fancy hotel, with one of those big beds covered in rose petals and a bath big enough for two.

He fought with himself before he woke her up. If the area wasn't so dark and terrifying, he would have left her there to sleep some more. The shadows surrounding the car had him holding her hand as he helped her out of the truck and walking over to the reception.

She was hardly awake as Bob got them a room. The last one, according to the receptionist. He handed over the key as Bob handed over the last of the cash in his wallet. He didn't miss how the guy's eyes moved over her, and how she pressed herself closer to his side.

"Come on," he whispered, arm protectively around her as he pulled her back to the car. He knew he didn't look like much, knew that guy probably thought he could easily take him on. But Bob would be damned if he let anything happen to her.

They got what they needed from the car and made their way up to their room for the night. The last room in the motel, apparently. Bob's anxiety spiked as he let go of her just long enough to unlock the door.

A single bed lay in the middle of the room. "Crap," Bob hissed as he walked in, immediately locking the door behind them. "I guess I'll take the floor."

A motel room floor. There was no telling when it was last cleaned, or what the suspicious stains were. Yeah, there was no way Bob was sleeping on the floor.

Silently, she walked over to the bed. "Yeah, I think we can both fit," she said as she sat on the mattress. Even with the duvet beneath her, she could feel the springs poking through. "It'll be a tight squeeze, but it'll be cosy."

Bob pulled his lip between his teeth. "I don't know," he muttered and looked into the bathroom. If he found a spare blanket, he could sleep in the tub. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It was my idea, Bob," she said as she fished through her bag for some pyjamas. "I won't be uncomfortable, I promise."

Bob sucked in a breath. The roach in the tub seemed to stare at him the moment he switched on the light. He quickly flicked the light off and walked back towards her. "Maybe don't go into the bathroom," he mumbled and sat on the end of the bed.

His body fell back as she pulled her shirt over her head, not much caring that Bob was there. He turned his head to the side, looked at the damp and peeling wallpaper opposite. This wasn't the sort of place he wanted to take her. This wasn't the sort of place where you rented rooms for the whole night.

"Done," she said and laid herself down beside Bob. They weren't trying to touch, but they had no choice in a bed this small.

While Bob got changed into his own pyjamas, she climbed beneath the scratchy duvet. The entire room felt unclean, including the bed. But she could stick it out for the night.

Bob climbed into the bed beside her. The two of them laid there, stiff as a board, waiting to fall asleep. They laid there, unmoving, hyper aware of their own breathing and just how loud it was.

It felt like an hour, but it couldn't have been an hour. Bob ran his hands over his face and rolled towards her. "Can I touch you?" He whispered.

She nodded as she rolled away from him, the both of them facing the wall with the peeling wallpaper. Bob was still hesitant as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in. "I'm sorry about this," he whispered, his fingers moving across her stomach, just light enough to not tickle her.

Still in his arms, she rolled over. "Don't apologise," she whispered. Her hands came up to touch his face. She could just about see him in the darkness, see him without his glasses on. "It's just one night, Bobby," she whispered.

He looked down at her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and played with his hair. God, she looked so right beneath him, looked so right in his arms. The more he looked at her, the more the shitty motel room didn't seem to matter.

Bob kissed her. He leaned down and captured her lips in his. This time he initiated it, and she was happy to hiss him back. His hand slipped to her hip, pulling her as close as possible. When she pulled away, he tried to keep his face neutral. "We're really doing this, huh?" She asked, no sound of regret in her face.

"Yeah," he answered and she shuffled closer, her lips pressing against his throat. "Yeah, I think we are."

She kissed him again, lips on his as she pushed at his shoulder. But there was no bed behind him for him to fall back on. His sharp intake of breath alerted her to something wrong and she grabbed hold of him, pulling him back on top of her.

Bob was quick to flip them over. She was on top of him, legs on either side of his hips. Bob held her still, stopped her from grinding down on him.

Bob was breathless when his head fell back, hitting the pillows. "Sweetheart, I..." But he struggled to find the words, struggled to articulate just how he was feeling. "Not here, not in this shitty motel room."

He leaned forward, went to kiss her again, but, this time, she pulled away. She sat up in his lap, hand settling over her stomach. Over her non-existent bump. "You're not gonna want me when she starts to show."

Shaking his head, Bob took hold of her hands and pulled her down onto him. "You're wrong, doll," he whispered and kissed her quickly. "I'm always gonna want you."

She cradled his face as she kissed him. She was right, he really was the sweetest man in the world.

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@daggersquadphantom

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phoenixblaze1412 · 1 year ago

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Hello there, i really loved the child!reader x dottore, could i ask for maybe a oneshot (or headcannons) for wholesome moments where reader is happily playing with dottore and his segments or anything to your liking?

Very well^^ I'll also introduce some of the other segments here

Let me introduce the segments, starting from the youngest segment up to Dottore himself.

Kappa, the seven year old segment, would always be your playmate whenever you're done studying. You two could be seen everywhere together. You would teach Kappa some other children games you learned from Childe due to you unable to leave the palace.

Eta, the teen segment, is one who babysits you the most, along with Kappa. He would make sure you don't get hurt whenever you're running around the laboratory. The first time you were introduced to him, he saw you as nothing but an insignificant pest. After taking care of you and getting to know you, he became more like a guard dog and would glare at others who even tried to get a few meters close to you.

Iota, the Akademiya segment, would be one of the segments who would teach you how to read and write, sometimes even solve some equations of your level. He would mostly teach you science and math. He would call you a mutt. It doesn't matter to him if you pout at the nickname he gave you, he would always call you a mutt. Why? You easily obey and listen to everything you were told, even act like a mutt. One time Iota was waving a lollipop in front of you and he would watch you follow the sweet with your hands out. When he told you he wouldn't give you the candy, you gave him the biggest puppy dog eyes that he sighed and gave you the candy.

Epsilon, pre-fatui Dottore segment, is one who would feed you sweets as a reward and would even teach you how to make them. You developed a sweet tooth thanks to him.

Theta, we know him as Webttore, the one who went to Mondstadt with Krupp, is also one of your tutors. He would teach you how to read and write. Him and Zandik (Original Dottore) are the only ones who can understand your handwriting. Would teasingly call you a dumbass because of your clumsiness and stupidity.

Beta, the other Webttore in the webtoon, the one who was annoyed because of the letter received from Mondstadt. He would be your babysitter whenever Eta is busy. Him and Gamma are mostly the troublemakers in the laboratory but they will make sure you don't get harmed from their mischief.

Gamma, one who teaches you anything related to fire. He is known as a pyromaniac that sometimes Zandik has to debate if he should let you under Gamma's care due to his worries that you might get burned. Nothing to fear, Gamma makes sure you're wearing protective gear. One time he singed the tips of your hair that he had to cut it short so there won't be any evidence the others could find. He bribed you with candy if you can manage to lie to Zandik on why you came back to him with short hair.

Zandik, the original Dottore himself, the one who took you in and raised you under his care, would be the last person you would always go to whenever the day ends and night time came. Due to him working in his laboratory overtime, his lack of sleep has been getting worse. The only person he would listen to aside from the Tsaritsa and Pierro is you. You would always make sure he would be sleeping with you, doesn't matter if it's on a couch or on the bed as long as you both slumber peacefully.

The sound of your footsteps could be heard as you walked down the hallways of the palace. You were a bit upset that your father didn't come visit you so you both can sleep. You would usually get nightmares whenever you don't get to sleep with someone holding you. You didn't want to bother the other segments since they were really busy with the project that they were planning to commence on Sumeru. They didn't tell you much details since they said they were 'big words for you to understand'... they didn't know that you understood every word thanks to the dictionary your Uncle Pantalone gifted you.

Letting out a small huff from all the walking, you finally reached your father's office. Standing on your tiptoes and reaching for the doorknob, you were able to open the door and quickly tiptoed inside. You immediately saw your father's figure working on his desk, the sound of his pen writing against paper is the one thing heard throughout the room.

"Papa." you chirped out as you made your way around the desk and laid your head on top of Zandik's knees.

Zandik let out a small hum in reply as he briefly glanced at you before turning his attention back to his documents, his hand making its way to lightly ruffle your hair while his other hand continued to write. You let out a pout when your father didn't even stop with his work.

"It's already close to midnight, Papa. You didn't come to sleep when you told me you were almost done with work. You got to sleep soon! You're gonna look like a panda in my storybooks with your big eyebags!"

Zandik placed his pen down as he looked at you with a raised brow. You were confused at his reaction but was immediately surprised when your face was being squished.

"A panda? Is that how you're going to refer to your father now? Oh, how you wound me, dear. You cheeky little pup." Zandik said as he pulled and pinch at your cheeks with a small grin. You whined as you pulled away from his grasp, holding your swollen cheeks as you playfully glare at your father.

"Are you finished with work now, Papa? Can we go to sleep?"

Zandik glanced at the documents at his desk before returning his attention towards you, letting out a tired sigh as he stood up from his seat before picking you up. He decided to finish the rest tomorrow since if he doesn't sleep then that would mean you wouldn't sleep either, he didn't want to see his own child be cranky in the morning due to the lack of rest.

Letting out a small hum, Zandik laid you both down on the couch in his office, too tired to walk all the way to your bedroom. You laid your head against your father's shoulder and let out a yawn. You felt a hand rub the back of your head as you heard your father humming a small tune your Aunt Columbina sang to you back then. As much as Zandik despised singing, he did admit the tune was able to lull you to sleep.

When he heard your soft snoring, he tried to put you down on the couch but you had a tight grip on his clothes. Zandik let out a sigh as he adjusted his position so that you were asleep in his arms while leaning his head against the couch. A small smile appeared on his face as he watched you sleep in his hold. He found it ironic how an innocent child could sleep so peacefully in the arms of a mad man. Nonetheless, Zandik swore to himself that he wouldn't let you be in danger.

"May your dreams be kind tonight, my dear." Zandik mumbled as he placed a small kiss to your temple and drifted off to sleep as well.

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There's still more segments that are left to be known. Let me know if you guys wanted a part two for it.

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#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #female reader #gender neutral reader #il dottore x reader #child reader

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fuqnia · 2 months ago

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Shattered Ice

eric cartman x reader insert

(❁´◡`❁) | [A/N] hii, this is my eighth oneshot that's apart of my ficmas! this is also on ao3. ❤️❄️🎄

(❁´◡`❁) | Warning(s) : cartman being cartman lol

(❁´◡`❁) | Synopsis : Cartman’s clumsy attempts at ice skating turn into a rare, vulnerable moment that leads to an unexpected kiss with you.

The air is crisp, the snow crunching under your boots as you approach South Park’s holiday ice rink. Bright string lights hang from poles, casting a warm glow over the bustling scene. Cheerful music hums through speakers, blending with the chatter and laughter of families and couples gliding across the ice.

Well, most of them glide.

“This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Cartman grumbles, lagging behind you. His breath puffs out in exaggerated huffs as he drags his feet. “Ice skating? Seriously? Who the hell even does that? Chicks and Canadians, that’s who.”

You glance back, biting back a grin. “Oh, come on. Look at all the happy people! It’s festive!”

Cartman snorts, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, they’re probably all freezing their asses off and pretending they’re not. And I’m not about to go out there and bust my balls just so you can pretend we’re in some shitty Hallmark movie.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” you say, stepping aside as a group of kids barrels past, laughing.

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m being realistic!” Cartman snaps, glaring at the rink as it comes into view. He gestures wildly at the skaters. “Look at them! Slipping around like a bunch of dumbasses. You know who doesn’t slip and fall like that? Me. Because I stay off the goddamn ice.”

Despite all his grumbling, Cartman trudges behind you to the rental booth, muttering curses under his breath the entire way.

“Size eight,” he barks at the attendant, slapping a crumpled bill on the counter.

The attendant hands him a pair of beat-up rental skates, and Cartman stares at them like they’ve personally offended him. “What the hell is this? Are these made of cardboard? They’re probably gonna fall apart the second I step on the ice. Goddamn rink’s probably run by Jews trying to ruin my life.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your skates and sitting on a nearby bench to lace them up. “Right. I’m sure they built this entire rink just to mess with you, Eric.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me!” he snaps, flopping down on the bench beside you. He holds up the skates with disdain. “I’m serious! These are probably a conspiracy to break my ankles so I can’t run away when they raise taxes or some shit.”

“You don’t even pay taxes,” you point out, hiding your smile as you tighten your laces.

Cartman huffs dramatically and starts yanking at his own laces. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. This whole thing is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“You’re just scared you’ll fall on your ass,” you tease, standing up and stretching.

He scoffs, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “Me? Scared? Please. I’m just saying it’s stupid, that’s all. I don’t need to prove anything to you or anyone else.”

“Right,” you say, smirking. “Well, if you’re done stalling, let’s hit the ice.”

Cartman mutters something under his breath as he finally stands, wobbling precariously on the skates. He glares at you as if daring you to laugh. “If I die out there, I’m haunting your ass.”

You chuckle, skating ahead a few steps before turning back to watch him shuffle toward the rink’s entrance. The contrast between his usual swagger and his unsteady, wobbly gait is enough to make you stifle a laugh.

“Come on, Eric. You’ve survived worse,” you tease, motioning for him to follow.

As he reaches the edge of the rink, Cartman hesitates, eyeing the ice with visible suspicion. “This is a setup,” he says flatly. “The ice is waiting to take me out. I can feel it.”

“It’s ice, not quicksand,” you reply, shaking your head. “Just step on and see what happens.”

He gives you a glare sharp enough to cut glass but reluctantly takes a step forward. The moment his skates touch the ice, his feet slide out from under him, and he flails like a cartoon character.

“Oh my god, the ice is trying to kill me!” he yelps, grabbing the railing in a desperate bid to stay upright. His over-the-top reaction draws chuckles from a nearby couple, and you can’t help laughing yourself.

“Relax! You’re fine!” you say, skating back toward him.

“Fine? I’m holding on for dear life, [Y/N]!” Cartman snaps, still clinging to the railing. “You dragged me here to die, didn’t you?”

Cartman clutches the railing with both hands, his knuckles turning white as his legs wobble uncontrollably beneath him. “This is bullshit!” he barks, glaring at you like the entire ice rink is your fault. “Who thought ice skating was a good idea? It’s just slipping and falling with extra steps!”

You skate backward a few feet, watching him with an amused grin. “Come on, Eric, it’s not that bad. Just let go of the railing and give it a try.”

He glares at you, his lips pulling into a thin line. “Oh, yeah? You want me to let go? Fine!”

With dramatic flair, he releases the railing and immediately stumbles forward, his arms flailing like windmills. For a moment, it looks like he might stay upright, but the next second, his legs slide out from under him, and he lands on his back with a loud thud .

“Son of a bitch!” he yells, sprawled on the ice. Nearby skaters glance over, their chuckles adding to the chorus of Cartman’s misery.

You skate closer, biting your lip to keep from laughing outright. “You okay down there?”

“No, I’m not okay!” he snaps, attempting to sit up. “The ice is defective. This whole rink is a scam! You dragged me here to get murdered by frozen water!”

“You’re so dramatic,” you say, shaking your head. “Just get up and try again.”

Cartman glares up at you, his face red with frustration. “Try again? Are you high? I just risked my life, and you want me to do it again ?”

“Yes, because you’re not going to get better sitting there whining,” you reply, folding your arms.

He mutters a string of curses under his breath, his breath puffing out in angry little clouds as he attempts to push himself up. His skates slide uselessly beneath him, and before long, he’s flat on his back again, glaring up at the sky like it personally wronged him.

“Maybe I wasn’t built for this crap,” he grumbles, his tone quieter now. “Fat people aren’t meant to glide like penguins.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, and his glare sharpens as he turns to you. “Stop laughing! My ass is on the line here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender. You skate closer and crouch down, offering him your hand. “Come on, Eric. I’ll help you up.”

He eyes your hand suspiciously, his pride clearly warring with his desire to stop lying on the ice. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he reaches out and grabs it.

“Don’t drop me, [Y/N],” he warns, his voice full of mock menace as you help him to his feet. “If I fall again, I’m taking you down with me.”

“Noted,” you reply dryly, bracing him as he wobbles back onto his skates. “Now, are you ready to actually try skating, or should I bring you a sled?”

He huffs, brushing imaginary snow off his jacket. “Let’s just get this over with. And for the record, if I break my neck, I’m suing your ass.”

With your hand guiding him, Cartman takes hesitant, awkward steps forward. His grip on your hand is tight—borderline painful—but he doesn’t let go, even as his feet wobble and slide on the ice.

“You’re not falling,” you say, skating backward to match his uneven pace. “That’s progress.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Cartman mutters, his eyes glued to the ice like it might betray him at any moment. “This is all part of the ice’s plan. It’s waiting for me to let my guard down.”

You stifle a laugh, shaking your head. “The ice isn’t plotting against you, Eric. You’re just paranoid.”

He gives you a side-eye glare but doesn’t stop moving. “Paranoia keeps me alive, [Y/N]. That, and not trusting people with dumb ideas like ‘Let’s go ice skating.’”

“You’re skating right now,” you point out, smirking.

“Because you tricked me into it,” he shoots back, though there’s no real venom in his tone.

You squeeze his hand gently, pulling him slightly forward to keep him steady. “I didn’t trick you. I just knew you’d be too stubborn to admit you wanted to try it.”

Cartman snorts but doesn’t argue. He stumbles a little, gripping your hand tighter, but you guide him smoothly across the ice.

“Okay, not completely awful,” he mutters begrudgingly after a few minutes.

“See? Told you it’s not so bad,” you say, grinning.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all smug about it.”

You skate together in a slow, wobbly rhythm, weaving carefully around the other skaters. His grumbling grows quieter as his movements become a little steadier, though he doesn’t loosen his grip on your hand.

After a while, you guide him toward the middle of the rink, away from the busier edges. The ice here feels smoother, the space quieter. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, the faint hum of music and laughter fading into the background.

Cartman stops, his legs still shaky, and huffs out a breath. “This is stupid,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat in his words.

“Admit it,” you say, smiling. “You’re kind of having fun.”

He glares at you, his expression torn between annoyance and something softer. “If by ‘fun,’ you mean sweating my ass off and trying not to die, then sure, I’m having a blast.”

You laugh, the sound warm and light, and he glances at you, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he mutters after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I don’t trust anyone else to see me make an ass of myself like this.”

The confession catches you off guard, and you blink at him, surprised. “Thanks... I think?”

He shrugs, looking away quickly. “Don’t make it weird.”

You smile, something fond tugging at your chest. “It’s not weird. I’m glad you trust me.”

He pauses, his expression flickering with something unreadable. For once, he doesn’t have a quick comeback. His grip on your hand loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go.

“You’re staring,” he grumbles, breaking the silence.

“Maybe I like looking at you,” you reply, your tone light and teasing.

His mouth opens, probably to deliver some sarcastic retort, but the words don’t come. Instead, he leans forward suddenly, the movement awkward but purposeful.

His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like he’s testing the waters. For a moment, you’re too stunned to react. Then his hand tightens on yours, anchoring you in place as he tilts his head slightly, pressing in with a clumsy kind of determination.

The kiss is warm, softer than you’d ever expect from Cartman. His usual bravado melts away, replaced by an uncharacteristic nervousness that makes your heart stutter. You can feel the cold air biting at your cheeks, the faint scent of pine and snow mingling with the moment, but none of it matters as he lingers just a second longer than you’d expect.

When he finally pulls back, his face is flushed—though whether it’s from the cold or something else, you can’t tell. His gaze darts away quickly, and he mutters under his breath, “You better not tell anyone about this.”

Your lips twitch into a smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. His hand, however, stays in yours, his grip still firm as if grounding himself.

“You’re not as bad at skating as you think, you know,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

He rolls his eyes, his usual bravado slipping back into place. “Don’t push it, [Y/N].”

You laugh, the sound light and easy as you squeeze his hand. “Come on, let’s keep skating.”

Cartman grumbles under his breath as you tug him gently forward, your skates gliding easily over the smooth ice. His hand remains firmly in yours, his grip tight and slightly clammy, but he doesn’t seem eager to let go.

The two of you skate quietly for a little longer, the weight of the kiss still lingering between you. Cartman doesn’t say much—his usual stream of sarcastic comments reduced to occasional muttering under his breath. His grip on your hand hasn’t loosened, but there’s something different about it now—something almost... intentional.

When you reach the edge of the rink, he clears his throat and lets go, wobbling as he steps off the ice and immediately collapses onto the nearest bench. “Alright, that’s enough of this crap. I’m done. Over it. Let’s go,” he announces, yanking at the laces of his skates like they personally wronged him.

You sit beside him, a smile still playing at the corners of your lips. “You survived the rink, Eric. Barely, but you did.”

“Survived?” he snaps, holding up one of his skates for emphasis. “These things are medieval torture devices. My feet are practically broken.”

You chuckle, taking off your own skates as he continues to grumble. Once your boots are back on, you glance at him, catching the faint flush still on his cheeks. Whether it’s from the cold or the kiss, you can’t tell—and you’re not sure you want to ask.

“Ready to go?” you ask, standing and brushing snow off your coat.

Cartman huffs, shoving his feet into his boots. “Finally. My ass is freezing, and if I stay out here any longer, I’m gonna end up like those dumbass kids in The Donner Party .”

The two of you head out of the rink, the holiday lights and cheerful music fading behind you as you step onto the quiet, snowy streets. For a while, neither of you speaks. The snow crunches underfoot, and the cold air bites at your nose, but the silence feels... comfortable.

Finally, Cartman clears his throat, kicking at a chunk of snow. “So, you’re not, like... overthinking that, are you?”

You glance at him, suppressing a smile. “Overthinking what?”

He shoots you a glare. “You know.”

You raise an eyebrow but decide to let him off the hook. “Eric, relax. I’m not ‘overthinking’ anything.”

“Good,” he mutters, his face relaxing slightly. After a beat, he adds, “Because if you were, that’d be dumb.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, your tone light as you glance over at him.

He shoves his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, his scowl fading into something softer. “This whole night was dumb,” he says, but his voice doesn’t carry the usual bite.

“Maybe,” you say, smiling gently. “But I thought it was nice.”

Cartman stops in his tracks. You turn to look at him, confused, and before you can say anything else, he holds out his hand.

“What?” you ask softly.

“Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Just... come on. Before you slip on the ice or something dumb like that.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, but you take his hand without hesitation. His grip is firm, and despite the way he huffs and mutters under his breath, he doesn’t let go as the two of you continue walking.

The snow falls softly around you, blanketing the streets in a quiet calm. And while Cartman would never admit it out loud, the warmth of his hand in yours says more than words ever could.

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #eric cartman x reader #eric cartman x y/n #sp oneshot #south park oneshot #holidays in hell

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whatonearthisgoingon · 5 months ago

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Marauders Era - Yule Ball

Alright, so if I remember correctly, the Yule Ball was held every 4 years at Hogwarts, rather just being for the Triwizard Tournament. With this in mind, if Harry's Yule Ball was in his 4th year, December 1994, then the Marauders had the yule ball in their 4th year in 1974, just like Harry did.

Now of course, James would have asked out Lily, but would have been ultimately rejected. So, instead, he asked out his best friend Sirius to go as best bros. The two idiotic storms of chaos show up in the Great Hall, arm in arm, in absolutely beautiful and expensive dress robes (cuz they're both insanely rich), and take a lot of people's attention, mainly because people are laughing their asses off as the two attempt to dance together.

However, off to the side, watching the two dumbasses, were the other half of their group, Peter and Remus, sitting at a table (At this point of time, Remus has a huge crush on Sirius, but hasn't said anything to him yet). Remus, slightly red faced, keeps drinking his butterbeer, trying not to focus entirely on Sirius dancing, and the way those robes are perfectly tight around Sirius' waist, and the way Sirius put on a little bit of makeup and that he looks so cute with it. Peter tries to distract him by talking about random things, but nothing works, and eventually he goes off with his own date.

When James eventually leaves Sirius to try and score a dance with Lily (who came with Snape), Sirius comes and sits with Remus, who is now staring strictly at the floor and sweating. Sirius, noticing that he's causing Remus' dilemma, simply smirks, grabs Remus' hand, and drags him out to the dance floor.

Sirius guides the clumsy and flustered Remus through it all until he eventually gets the hang of it. The two are dancing together, blushing like idiots. James stops his attempt at Lily to watch the two, smiling for his best friends. When the song ends, Sirius drags Remus out of the Great Hall, eventually going outside to where other couples are just strolling, and Sirius starts talking.

Sirius: "I saw how you were looking at me, when I was with James. I was debating if you wanted to dance with me, or punch him."

Remus: "I would never punch James. Why would I want to punch James anyway?"

Sirius: "I don't know, maybe you were jealous~?"

Remus: Turns bright red "I was not jealous, you are my friend, why would I be jealous of two of my friends dancing!?"

Sirius: Shrugs "I don't know, but those eyes weren't looking at me like I was your friend." Stops walking forward and moves infront of Remus. "It looked like something more."

Remus: "I-I.. It wasn't anything!"

Sirius: Looks around real quick, making sure no one can see them. "Well.." Leans forward and leaves a small peck on Remus' cheek. "If it becomes more, let me know, okay?" Smiles at Remus, a small blush on his cheeks, and walks away back to the Great Hall.

Remus: Stands there dumb struck, processing that Sirius just kissed him. He turns to look at Sirius walk away, and once he's inside, Remus smiles, happy that Sirius might feel the same way for Remus, that Remus feels for him.

(Thanks to @myrows because I saw this[link below] Yule Ball post by them and it reminded me of Yule Balls and made me think of this idea https://www.tumblr.com/myrows/721832150156132352/wolfstar-yule-ball-au?source=share )

#marauders #marauders era #harry potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #severus snape #wolfstar #remus x sirius #jily #platonic snily #hogwarts #yule ball

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marksbear · 2 years ago

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hii papa bear ! ! if you not so busy doing request rn and if you write Khonshu too, can you do Khonshu headcanon about having a dumb, idiot and clumsy m/n but Khonshu already used to it ??🦈🦈🎶🎶 sorry for my bad english lololol🤯🤯

Heyyy 🦈! I hope you like it my friend! This is my first time writing for home so give me some grace.

Don't worry about having bad English, English isn't my first language either, so I know the struggle💀. Like I forget how to spell words and everything like that.

KHONSHU X IDIOT MALE READER

-He would keep you the hell away from other gods. In fear they might try to make you their avatar. But he knows your a bit to dumb and clumsy.

-He honestly would had made you his avatar if he didn't know how dumb you could be and how you can just trip on a pencil.

-Anytime you fall he'll pick you up by your shirt and just lift you in the air and carry you.

-Insulting you is his way of showing affection. Like "Idiot" "Dumbass." "Useless human."(if your human) and etc all come with love. He feels even more cocky if you don't know what it means.

-Since you always are getting hurt he'll use magic to heal your bruises. Honestly he considered locking you in an empty room so you can possibly not get hurt. But sadly you trip on air and your own feet sometimes.

-Marc and the rest of the boys were shocked when Khonshu revealed he was married. Honestly Steven didn't believe anyone could love a bird like him. And when Steven asked who he was married to Khonshu teleported you to him.

-He's probably a lot taller than so he would tower over you looking down at you as you ramble on about something dumb.

-When you first met you thought he was a new species of bird and tried to take a picture of him to show the scientist or anyone.

-When you first kissed his beak it took him a bit back cause no one ever had done that. It was so soft and gentle when you pulled his head down and kissed his beak with a smile. You honestly made him speechless. "Again..." He says deeply.

-Would be down to kill someone for you without hesitation most definitely when someone insults you.

-Helps you put the pieces together after you're done reading a book or watching a movie. He'll give a summary about what's going on in the book or movie.

-You annoy him sometimes from how dumb you can be.

-Almost killed you when you asked him could he lay eggs after he bottomed for you during sex. "Since you're pregnant. Do you have to lay eggs somewhere?"

-Him being everywhere with you.

Just overall a 10/10 boyfriend.

#Khonshu #Khonshu x male reader #x male reader #male reader #marvel x male reader #the bear club

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peavhyshy · 1 year ago

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⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - PART I [IS THIS HAPPINESS?]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pairing ─ ୨୧ ─ Rafe Cameron ⋆ Heyward!Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which you find a sunken boat with your brother and friends.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ strong language and underage drinking.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 3,585

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ so... they don't interact in this part but they will in the next one, I tried to write the parts by episodes but that would be too long of a chapter so it's whatever. next part coming out when i get inspiration to do something.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖is this happiness˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Series Masterlist ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

On the precipice of the rooftop stood John B, his heels teetering on the brick edge, a cold beer can nestled in his grip. The building loomed over its surroundings, a three-story behemoth of steel and concrete, basking in the radiance of the setting sun.

Pope, sitting a mere arm's length away, glared at John B with a look that was a cocktail of annoyance and concern. He clutched a drill in his hand, its metallic surface reflecting the mellow sunlight. He grumbled, "That’s what, a three-story fall to the deck? I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival."

John B chuckled, his thumb grazing the rim of his beer can, "Hmm." He wet his fingertip with a swift lick before raising it to the wind, trying to gauge its direction. "Should I do it?"

Pope, his patience dwindling, aimed his drill at him. "Yeah, jump. I’ll shoot you on the way down." The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous.

John B grinned, forming a mock finger gun, "You’ll shoot me?" He mimicked a gunshot, "Pew."

Just then, Kiara emerged from the skeletal structure of the construction site. Her voice was laced with the excitement of discovery, "They’re going to have Japanese towel warmers."

Your face peeks out from behind Kiara, and you chimed in with a hint of worry in your voice, "John B, be careful please. I don’t want you to get hurt."

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess?”

As Kiara looked up at John B, her eyes filled with concern. "Can you please not kill yourself?" she pleaded, her voice just above a whisper.

JJ, perched on the roof's edge, beer in hand, watched John B sway dangerously. He warned, "Don’t spill that beer; I’m not giving you another one." Your voice resonated with a similar concern, "JJ, don't encourage him. It’s dangerous."

However, John B’s grip slipped, and the beer tumbled down into the abyss. An accidental release. "Whoa! Oh!, Shit." His voice echoed the surprised realization of his fumble.

JJ chuckled, "Of course you did."

Kiara muttered under her breath, "Dumbass," while you just shook your head at John B's clumsiness, "Well, that's one way to get rid of your beer. You're lucky it wasn't something more important."

Pope added, "Yeah, like your phone. That would have been a real tragedy."

John B, stepping back from the edge, chuckled sheepishly, "Sorry, guys. I guess I'm not as coordinated as I thought I was."

JJ laughed, "You think? Maybe you should stick to drinking beer and leave the acrobatics to the professionals."

Suddenly, the quiet was broken by the ominous sound of a car pulling into the yard. As John B turned, he spotted the telltale signs of the ADT car. "Hey, uh, security’s here. Let’s wrap it up. Boys are early today."

"Alright, Humpty Dumpty, let’s roll!" JJ exclaimed, his voice echoing off the surrounding buildings. "Let's go, boys and Y/N!" Kiara echoed.

As the group began their descent, they spotted their old adversary, "Gary, is that you?" JJ yelled.

You hung back uncertainly "Can we please just walk quickly?" you pleaded. "I don't want to run."

The security guard shouted after them, "Get down!" But their laughter only grew louder, their voices ricocheting off the bare walls and exposed beams.

They sprinted through the yard, their footsteps muffled by the sand. Pope attempted to climb the fence but fell flat on his face, his groan drowned by the laughter of his friends. "Get up, Pope; Fatso’s coming."

They ran through dunes, their feet sinking into the soft sand. They cut through a hedge, their bodies brushing against the rough leaves, and finally jumped into John B’s beige van.

As they sped away, the security guard attempted to cut them off. "Check out Gary, gunning for a raise," Pope jokes, watching the guard's futile attempts.

"Wait, slow down," JJ said. As the van decelerated, the guard rushed forward, nearly grabbing them before they pulled away again.

"Oh, come on, guys. You’ll give him a heart attack."

JJ shouted back at the security guard, "You're so close! You can do it." He threw a beer bottle at him, "There you go. They don’t pay you enough, bro."

Kiara, by now exasperated, interjected, "JJ, stop. Stop."

JJ groaned, his voice laden with disappointment, "Oh come on. That sort of is just begging to be punished." All the while, the van sped away, leaving the security guard in their dust, and the echoes of their laughter in the air.

You turned your pleading eyes to JJ once more. "Please stop teasing him. It's not nice."

The afternoon sun beams down on the Pogues as they lounge on the deck of their boat. JJ reclines on his back, blowing rings of vape smoke into the air. Nearby, Pope sits engrossed in a Kafka novel, occasionally glancing up to observe and comment on the passing seabirds. Kiara sways gently to the music pouring through her headphones, eyes closed, soaking in the melodies. In the shade, you quietly read a book, stealing glances at the cloudless blue sky.

"It's such a nice day to be out on the water. The sunshine feels so good," you say with a content smile towards the sky.

Kiara slides her headphones down and nods in agreement with her best friend. "I know, right? Makes me want to just sail away and never come back."

"Statistically speaking, our chances of long-term survival would be extremely low," Pope interjects matter-of-factly without glancing up from his book.

Kiara playfully pushes Pope's shoulder. "Thank you, Mr. Sunshine. Always looking on the bright side."

"I'm with Kie. Who needs land? We got everything we need right here," JJ says, exhaling a cloud of vape smoke.

"It is really peaceful out here," you agree with a smile.

John B strides over carrying a cooler and tosses beers to everyone. "Nothing but clear skies and open water ahead of us, ladies and germs," he declares, cracking open his can. "To the Pogues!"

They cheer and clink cans. you shyly takes a sip of the beer but immediately spits it out at the bitter taste.

Suddenly, John B hauls up a net bursting with flopping fish.

"Ew, poor fishes!" you cringe at the sight.

Pope glances up from his book to examine the catch. "Menhaden. A vital food source for marine predators. Their abundance indicates a very healthy ecosystem," he notes.

The group pauses to stare blankly at Pope for a moment. "Fascinating, Pope. Please, tell us more about the lives of bait fish," Kiara jokes, playfully mocking him.

"Who cares what they're called? More fish means more food. We're eating good tonight!" JJ laughs, patting Pope on the back. You frown, saddened by the fate of the fish.

"I feel bad for them," you say quietly.

"Survival of the fittest, baby," JJ jokes, grabbing a fish from the net and pretending to bite into it.

Kiara fakes a loud gag and you cringe more, "Eww, JJ! That's disrespectful and disgusting."

"Take it easy, Y/N. JJ's just playing," John B says with a laugh.

JJ spits the fish out, laughing.

John B cruises along the bustling commercial waterfront, passing by the aroma of frying fish snacks and steaming seafood joints. Outfitting stores displaying rods, reels, and nautical apparel line the docks. Evidence of storm damage is visible with broken pilings and scattered debris. As they approach Heyward’s Seafood, John B and JJ slow the boat, taking in the sight of Pope cleaning up the storm wreckage on the dock.

“Safety meeting. Attendance mandatory,” John B announces into his hand clasped like a walkie-talkie, imitating static sounds.

“I can’t. My Pops got me on lockdown,” Pope replies, holding a hose in one hand as he scrubs the dock, your dad and you approach behind him.

“Come on man,” JJ says making garbled static sounds. “Your dad’s a pussy. Over.”

“I heard that, you little bastard,” Heyward interjects gruffly, clutching a broom as he strides over.

“We need your son and daughter,” John B calls out across the water.

“Yeah, and island rules. Day after a hurricane’s a free day,” JJ asserts confidently with outstretched hands.

“Who the hell made that up?” Heyward counters sarcastically.

“Uh... the pentagon, I think. We have security clearance. I have a card,” JJ rambles unconvincingly.

“Y’all think I’m stupid,” Heyward declares skeptically, eyeing each of them.

“We’ll do it tomorrow. I promise.,” Pope pleads, gazing back at his father.

“Daddy, can I please go with them? I’ll help Pope finish tomorrow,” You ask timidly, hands clasped in front of you.

“Hell no. You doin’ it right now,” Heyward reprimands gruffly, glaring at both kids.

“Get in the boat,” John B whispers to Pope and you.

“Make a run for it,” JJ urges with a head nod toward the idling boat.

“If you get in that boat...,” Heyward threatens through gritted teeth.

Pope hesitates, then drops the hose and leaps into the boat and you scurried after him. “Go, go, go!”

“Bring your asses back up here!” Heyward bellows at the fleeing forms.

“I promise I’ll do it tomorrow, Dad!” Pope calls back apologetically.

“Sorry, Daddy!” you shout regretfully, waving back at him.

“When you get back you're gonna clean shrimp, clean fish,” Heyward grumbles after them.

“Love you Pops!” You and Pope proclaim affectionately in unison.

“Pope, you'll clean your dirty-ass room! And Y/N... You'll help your brother clean his room,” Heyward spits out irritably as the boat motors away.

“We’ll get them back in one piece. I promise!” John B assures.

“Bye, see you later!” you trill sweetly as the boat gains distance.

“And I don’t like your friends!” Heyward’s yell carries over the water after them.

Kiara stands on the splintered, weathered edge of the last dock, bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet. She's dressed for warmth in a faded t-shirt and cutoff shorts, a bikini peeking out from underneath. In her hands she grips a battered red cooler, condensation dripping down the sides. Stepping gingerly onto the rocking boat, she grasps JJ's outstretched hand to steady herself as the vessel bobs beneath her feet.

"Oh, top o' the mornin' to ya," JJ drawls, tipping an imaginary hat in an exaggerated accent.

Kiara gives an amused eye roll, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. "Good morning," she replies.

John B flashes a bright, enthusiastic grin from the captain's chair. "Morning Kie!" he calls out.

At the front of the boat, Pope squinted against the glaring morning sunlight reflecting off the water's surface, his face scrunched in a slight wince. "Whatcha got there? Some juice boxes?" he asks hopefully, eyeing the cooler.

Kiara's eyes glint mischievously. "Oh you know, just some yogurts and carrot sticks," she responds, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

JJ leans in close, eyebrows raised expectantly. "How about my kinda juice box?"

Kiara nods knowingly, the hint of a smirk playing at her lips. "Yeah," she confirms.

With a dramatic flourish, she sets the cooler down on the worn wooden deck with a muted clinking of glass and ice. Throwing open the lid reveals a cache of icy Coronas gleaming in the sunlight. JJ's face lights up, and he eagerly cracks one open, foam fizzing as he takes a deep swig, and Pope shakes his head.

“Morning everyone!" you calls out brightly, your voice like a songbird over the lap of the waves.

Noticing the open beers, you places your hands on your hips in mock scolding, an exaggerated frown turning down the corners of your mouth. "JJ, it's a bit early for beer don't you think?" you chide, you tone light and teasing.

JJ just shrugs carelessly, his lips curled in an unconcerned grin. "It's 5 o'clock somewhere, Y/N," he replies before tipping back another swig.

With an enthusiastic roar, John B fires up the rumbling engine. The boat surges forward, cresting over small swells. Pope carefully steers from the captain's chair, gripping the wheel with easy confidence. Near the back, Kiara reclines on a towel, soaking in the warm sun. Her eyes are closed, a small content smile on her face. John B sits hunched over nearby, wholly focused on intricately tying a fishing fly, his brows furrowed in concentration.

At the front of the boat, JJ stands tall, arms outstretched. The wind whips through his shaggy hair as the boat slices through the brackish water. Behind him, you sit comfortably reading a book, absently tucking a windswept strand of hair behind your ear.

Glancing back mischievously, JJ motions to Pope, miming pouring beer into his mouth and letting the wind carry it in a makeshift beer bong.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, JJ calls out loudly over the thrum of the engine. "Hey Pope! Can you go a little faster?" he shouts eagerly, waving his arm to get Pope's attention.

John B shakes his head knowingly, not looking up from his fishing lure. "Here we go. I'm movin'. Doesn't work. We've tried this like 6,000 times," he warns in a weary, exasperated tone.

JJ ignores him, gesturing more insistently to Pope. "Faster! I got this. It's gonna work this time!" he yells, determination gleaming in his eyes.

Glancing up from your book, your brows knit together anxiously. "Be careful JJ!" you call out, her voice tinged with concern.

Obliging, Pope pushes forward on the throttle. The engine roars as the boat surges ahead, streaking across the shimmering water. The shoreline blurs by in a mix of wind-whipped sawgrass and scraggly trees. Poised triumphantly, JJ holds out the beer can, finally ready for his coveted beer bong.

Without warning, the boat lurches violently as the engine gives a protesting sputter. The Pogues are tossed about, slamming harshly onto the hard wooden deck as the boat screeches to a sudden stop. Cans and melting ice from the overturned cooler slide across the floor.

John B pulls himself up with a pained groan, gingerly rubbing his lower back. "You alright JJ?" he calls out worriedly toward the front of the now-idle boat.

Nearby, You wince as you push yourself up, tenderly cradling her elbow. "Oh my gosh, JJ are you okay??" you asks anxiously.

John B moves carefully around the deck checking on Kiara and Pope before making his way to the prow. There he finds JJ spluttering indignantly on his back in the water, groaning in pain.

Dramatically throwing an arm across his eyes, JJ moans, "I think my heels touched the back of my head."

Scanning the deck, John B calls out, "You okay, Kie and Y/N?"

Gingerly rotating your arm, you give him a pained but reassuring smile. "I'm okay, just a little shaken up," you reply.

At the stern, Pope examines the engine now tilted at an odd, broken angle. His eyes scan the water behind the boat intently.

Turning to John B with a grimace, he shrugs apologetically. "Sandbar. The channel’s changed."

Treading water below, JJ rolls his eyes in exasperation. "No shit!" he calls out sarcastically. Triumphantly holding up a bobbing beer can, he grins. "Hey, I saved the beer though!"

John B just shakes his head, a wry smile touching his lips. "Congrats, JJ," he replies sardonically.

Studying the unfamiliar shoreline, John B strokes his chin thoughtfully. "The storm surge must have been huge back here to shift the sandbars so much," he remarks contemplatively.

As JJ paddles back to the boat, a dark shadow deep below the water's surface catches their attention. The Pogues gather along the side, peering intently into the murky depths.

Pope's eyes widen in surprise. "Guys... I think there's a sunken boat down there," he says in an awed hush.

Leaning farther over the side, Squinting into the gloom, you can just make out the vague outline of a submerged vessel. "Oh wow, you're right!" you exclaim excitedly. you turns to the others, eyes bright with urgency. "I wonder if anyone's down there. We should check it out and see if they need help!"

The sun glittered brightly off the gentle waves as the five friends leapt with excitement from the boat's prow. They plunged into the cool, salty water, bubbles swirling around them. John B was the first to reach the sunken boat below, its once shiny hull now covered in algae and rust. He swam along the length of it, taking in the peeling paint and tattered ropes hanging limply from the railings. Running low on air, he reluctantly turned and kicked upwards.

The others followed, surfacing and treading water. JJ swept his wet blond hair back, treading water beside you. You blinked saltwater from your eyes, turning worriedly to see that John B had surfaced safely.

"You guys saw that?" JJ called out eagerly, his voice echoing across the empty blue expanse.

Pope nodded, water dripping from his hair. "Yeah," he confirmed, intrigued.

John B wiped his face, eyes wide. "What the..." he murmured in awe.

JJ gestures wildly, the water churning around him. "That's a Grady White! A primo rig!" he exclaimed. "A new one costs 500 Gs, easy."

John B helped pull Kiara back up into the boat, He then hoisted himself up after her, water pooling around their feet.

"I saw that boat yesterday when I was surfing the surge," John B remarked. "It must've hit the jetty."

Kiara gave him an incredulous look. "You surfed the surge?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," John B confirmed casually.

In the water, JJ shot John B an approving grin. "That's my boy. Pogue style," he praised.

You frowned, brows furrowing with concern. "Surfing during a storm surge seems really dangerous," you fretted.

John B looked a bit sheepish but proud of his daring stunt.

Kiara crossed her arms, disappointment evident on her face. "What the heck?" she admonished.

Pope hoisted himself up into the boat, his clothes heavy and dripping. "Do we know whose boat it is?" he asked curiously.

John B shook his head. "No. But we're about to find out." He rummaged around and grabbed the anchor, its metal surface covered in barnacles.

JJ and you climbed back into the gently rocking boat, JJ eyed the water depth skeptically. "Dude, it's too deep," he warned.

"Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ," John B scoffed jokingly.

JJ held up his hands in mock defense. "No way I’m resuscitating you. I just want to make that clear up front," he quipped.

John B strode confidently to the prow, anchor in hand. With a grunt, he heaved it up and stepped unsteadily onto the railing.

Kiara reached out in concern. "John B..." she cautioned worriedly.

John B laughed lightheartedly. "What?"

"Diver down, fool!" Pope called out, saluting playfully.

John B saluted back cockily. "Diver down!" he confirmed.

Suddenly, JJ gave John B a forceful shove and he tumbled backwards into the shimmering water with a splash, still clinging tightly to the anchor.

"JJ, why did you do that?" You cried, clasping your hands to your mouth in dismay.

Pope peered down anxiously into the shimmering blue water, squinting against the glare of sunlight. "Should we go get him?" he asked, brows knitted with concern about how long John B had been submerged.

Just then John B burst through the surface with a huge gasp, water streaming down his face as he caught his breath. The Pogues crowded at the back of the boat, staring down at him in relief.

Kiara let out a tense sigh, shoulders sagging. "Oh my god, that took forever!" she exclaimed, her voice edged with leftover fear.

"Any dead bodies down there?" Pope called out bluntly.

You made a face of disgust, nose wrinkling. "Eww, Pope!" you admonished, smacking his arm.

Treading water, John B just shook his head wordlessly, still breathing hard.

JJ leaned over the railing impatiently, sun-bleached hair falling into his eyes. "Any loot worth taking?" he prodded greedily.

John B held up the motel key triumphantly, metal glinting in the sunlight. "I found this motel key," he announced with a grin.

Grabbing the railing, he hoisted himself back up into the boat with a grunt, pools of water gathering at his feet.

Pope looked thoroughly unimpressed. "A key," he deadpanned, unconvinced of its value.

JJ threw his hands up in irritation, the boat rocking beneath them. "Great! We risked our lives for a crappy motel key," he griped sarcastically.

"Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard. Maybe we'll get a finder's fee as a reward!" Kiara suggested, always trying to do the right thing.

You nodded enthusiastically, hair swinging. "Oh that's a great idea, Kie!" you agreed supportively.

JJ scoffed loudly and dramatically rolled his eyes. "Claim the finder’s fee and not work all summer? Thanks, Agatha, ya batch," he grumbled in a high mocking voice.

Pope started up the boat's rumbling engine while John B labored to pull up the heavy, dripping anchor. The boat lurched into motion and they motored away from the site, water churning in their wake.

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escape-the-real · 2 months ago

Text

The Lost Crown: A Tale of Rebellious Royalty. (MHA Fantasy Au x reader)

Drabble, Characters are 18+

Synopsis: Y/n gets to know the two strangers better and their morals.

Word count: 1,318

Includes/mentioned: Shigaraki, Bakugo, Kirishima, & Denki

Key: (T:) - Translation, (e/c) - eye colour, (s/c) - skin colour, (h/c) - hair colour, (Y/n) - Your name, (F/n) - Fake name.

Warning: Angst, language, & injuries.

⚔︎- Chapter Three: Flames at Noon-

Y/n awoke to the rumbling of their stomach. They rolled over, expecting to find the extravagant breakfast tray. Instead, their e/c eyes were met with those of Katsuki's. He was sitting on the ground, back leaning up against a tree. This made Y/n sit up.

"Tch! Nothing to be scared of dumbass." He started, "Oh and just so you know. The boars went over all the tracks. So, you are safe here with shitty scales and me."

"Shitty scales?" Y/n mummers, slightly confused.

"Aye, him," Katsuki spoke nodding his head towards Ejiro, who was lifting the cooked meat of boar off the spit of the fire.

Katsuki gave a lazy stretch, much like a cat, before getting up and walking towards Ejiro. Y/n watched with curiosity as the two interacted with one another. Questions swirled around her mind; "Was Katsuki the fire breather they had seen at the party? Did he happen to see her sneak out? Why were these two willing to risk Shigaraki's wrath by helping them?

Y/n was snapped out of their thoughts when Ejiro waved his hand in front of their face.

"Hey! I bet you are starving, come join us!" He chirped, motioning to where Katsuki was already sitting and eating.

"O-oh, thank you," Y/n spoke quietly. They followed him towards the fire and sat hesitantly on a tree stump.

"Oi dumbass, what's your name and your deal?" Katsuki barked, the moment they sat down.

"Katsuki! Really?" Ejiro declared sounding unimpressed and offended on Y/n's behalf.

"What? I gave them time. Now, I want to know if we are harbouring a goddamn fugitive in our camp or something!" He exclaimed angrily.

Ejiro could only sigh and shake his head while handing Y/n their food.

"I am Y/-... F/n," Y/n hesitated, then finished. "F/n. I worked in the kitchen. I... I was clumsy and the head cook wanted to thrash me. I ran away."

Katsuki raised one eyebrow, "F/n... That's strange," he scoffed.

"No stranger than mine!" Ejiro joked with a smile, sending Katsuki a pointed look.

Y/n gave Ejiro a wobbly smile in return. No matter how suspicious Y/n was of the two men, they couldn't believe that Ejiro would do them any harm. Katsuki on the other hand was another story. It wouldn't hurt to try and stick close to the unique pair until they found another option.

"After we finish eating, believe it's best to pack up camp and travel towards the mountains," he said before taking a bite of a juicy piece of boar meat.

Seeing their confusion, Katsuki decided to pipe up. "It's not safe to stay this close to the castle."

"I thought you said that they wouldn't find me!" Y/n exclaimed panicked, standing quickly from their spot on the tree stump.

"Your tracks have been covered, but if Skigaraki wanted to desperately find you, then he would do everything in his power to do so," Ejiro finally replied, wiping the grease of the meat from his mouth.

"Tch, exactly! A search of the forest, a search of the village, a search of the huts. Sooner or later, he would find you, dumbass," Katsuki grumbles out, not liking the idea of being put on Shigaraki's raider.

Y/n sat in silence as the two men packed up their packs and camp, moving efficiently.

"Ready Y/n?" Ejiro asked gently.

Y/n couldn't think of any other reason not to go. Going with them and to the mountains lay safety. They slid their hood on and nodded, ready to follow.

Y/n walked beside Ejiro. They followed a faint track that led up the mountainside. It wound back and forth between the large outcropping of rock. Each time Y/n looked back, the clearing of huts seemed smaller and smaller. The last time they stopped, it looked more like a painting than a real place, only the various moving figures made it live.

As Y/n watched, the tiny figures began to run about. Even from where they were, Y/n could sense their alarm. They looked at Ejiro and Katsuki. Both of their faces were grim.

"What is it," Y/n whispered in unease.

"The Yami no dōmei (T: Dark Alliance)," Katsuki said. He pulled her behind a large rock. "Look."

Riders led by The Yami no dōmei (T: Dark Alliance) poured from the woods, herding the people back and forth into the clearing like cattle. Others searched the huts quickly, setting a blaze to each one.

Y/n gasped. Billows of smoke rose from the clearing. The pungent smell of burning stung their nostrils. They wanted to shrink to the ground but were unable to tear their widening eyes away from the horror.

Ejiro let out a long sigh before speaking. "When the The Yami no dōmei (T: Dark Alliance) are gone, we must go back to help those who are left."

The speed at which Y/n whipped their head to stare at the man would have been funny in a different situation but instead, they stared in disbelief. They risked a glance back now at the burning clearing. The Yami no dōmei (T: Dark Alliance) were satisfied with their search and had left. People wandered around the charred huts, picking up items that weren't that heavily damaged from the fire.

Ejiro and Katsuki rose from behind the large rock, beginning to descend back down. Katsuki glared over his shoulder at Y/n in a questioning way, they shook their head.

"I...I can't," they said. "I'll wait here."

Katsuki rolled his eyes and muttered a "pathetic" out. While Ejiro spared a disappointed glance but said nothing.

Y/n waited patiently for them to return but while waiting their thoughts started to swirl. They picked at their hangnails in anger. What do those people have to do with me anyway? They thought. It's me that Shigaraki wants, not them. But fear of being alone again started to form deep within their gut. They decided to get up and walk down the mountain trail a little way.

Thats when they seen Ejiro walking back up, with Katsuki behind him carrying something. No, someone!

"Who?" Y/n gasped quietly.

"Demki Kamanri, the village bard. An old friend of ours." said Ejiro. Y/n looked guiltily at the boy slumped against katsuki's back.

"Is he... will he pull through? You know... will he die?" whispered Y/n fearfully.

The slumped figure sat up indignantly with a half smile. "Die?! Me? Not if I can get off this swaybacked, gollumpus, pomeranian-headed, stumble-footed excuse for a mule!"

"The hell you call me dunce face?! Yelled Katsuki who had just been referred to as a mule.

This tiny banter between Kamanari and Katsuki made Y/n chuckle softly. Fear ebbing away from them in large waves.

"Next time you try to vault over a fence sparky, make sure there's no bull on the other damn side." Hissed Katsuki.

"Bull?" Y/n questioned, staring from each male to the other.

"I was in a great duel with the biggest, meanest, ugliest-" Kamanri stopped when Ejiro loudly cleared his throat and gave him a pointed look. "All right! I was actually running for my life," he said. I just so happened to leap over a fence...which was the wrong fence. I uh... Landed right in front of a bull. Needless to say! He didn't exactly take kindly to the sudden scare and he also didn't wait for me to get out."

"He speared you?" Y/n asked behind a hand that covered their mouth in disgust.

"Pfft, nope! It's just a scratch," Kamanari said. He then hastily clambered off an annoyed Katsuki's back, slightly wincing as he landed on his feet. He looked back down at the clearing, the smile leaving his face as his eyes went dark. "Some were not so fortunate," he uttered. "The Yami no dōmei (T: Dark Alliance) aren't known for their gentleness."

"Aye...That is why we must be off now." Declared Ejiro.

Thanks for reading, hope it was enjoyable!! Make sure to stick around for ⚔︎-Chapter Four: The Journey Heads East⚔︎-

#bnha x reader #bnha #anime #mha #anime fanfic #fiction #dragon kirishima #The Lost Crown: A Tale of Rebellious Royalty #barbarian bakugou #@escape the real #bnha fantasy au #denki kaminari #fantasy #series #shigaraki tomura #kiribaku #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #dunce face Denki

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water9826 · 1 year ago

Text

Cursed Guardians (A JJK Fic)

AO3 Link

Start Here

“I’m going to fucking murder you, Sukuna.”

“That’d kill you too, dumbass.”

“I don’t care! How could you NOT do the ONE thing I requested of you?!”

“Oi! It ain’t my fault that I didn’t notice!”

“You were supposed to tell me the second you sensed Yuuji’s presence! For fuck’s sake, you made a binding vow with me!”

“And nothing’s happened to me, right? I didn’t tell you about Yuuji on purpose. I didn’t sense him, so the binding vow wasn’t broken. I did nothing wrong!”

“YOU’RE SUCH A– I JUST– AGH! I HATE YOU!”

“WHAT?! I GOT US BACK HOME, YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH!”

“Yeah, you did get us home, but you want to know what you also did? YOU ALERTED ALL THE JUJUTSU SORCERERS IN JAPAN! YOU PRACTICALLY INVITED THEM TO OUR HOUSE!”

“THEY AREN’T GOING TO COME! HAVEN’T YOU HEARD OF INTIMIDATION TACTICS?! THEY’LL BE TOO BUSY PISSING THEIR PANTS TO EVEN TRY TO FIND US!”

“YOU KNOW DAMN WELL-”

An ear piercing wail made all arguing screech to a halt. Ryomen glared murderously at Sukuna before heading to the baby’s room. The much taller being followed the man with a scowl that was more resemblant of a pout.

-One hour Earlier-

Once Infinite had deposited the group to the requested location, Ryomen had immediately gotten to work on cleaning up his long lost son of any grime he had collected when at the forest with soft baby wipes. The infant whined in pain when Ryomen gently brushed his finger against the dark markings on his chubby face and arms. A million questions flooded the man’s mind, but he ignored all of them due to the teary, golden eyes looking up at him. Ryomen’s heart melted and twisted at the same time at the sight. He soon began to prepare the formula for the hungry infant. The moment the bottle was placed in Yuuji’s mouth, the baby quickly devoured the meal greedily. As the infant drank, his loyal protectors were in a circle, watching him dutifully. At some point, Overtime used one of his wrappings to wipe off the mess of milk from Yuuji’s face due to the baby’s clumsy drinking. It caused the baby to squeal with laughter, causing everyone in the room to soften at the sight. Even Sukuna had to bite his lip in order to hide a smile at the happy squeals.

Once Yuuji had finished his meal and was burped, Ryomen carried the baby to the bathroom to give him a much needed bath. While the wipes had done well to clean off the dirt, a proper, warm bath was needed to help sooth the baby’s irritated skin and get rid of the tiny sticks in his hair. His six guardians had tried to follow them into the bathroom, but Ryomen was quick to scold them. Only Supernova was allowed to enter due to his small size. The cat purred loudly before jumping onto Ryomen’s shoulder. Yuuji made grabbing motions towards the purple feline. Because Supernova had been the first being that the baby saw, the boy had imprinted on Supernova. An undeniably smug look appeared in Supernova’s eyes as he peered at the other guardians while Yuuji’s attention was fully on the cat. Infinite squawked loudly in pure offense, the colorful feathers along his back raised to show just how unhappy he was at Ryomen’s decision. When the draconic creature tried to use his long body to steal Yuuji, Chimera was quick to summon one of his frogs to wrap around Infinite's beak before it could make contact. The dark goop immediately began to stick into the white fur of Infinite’s back, eliciting another affronted squawk.

“Damn, he’s loud. Think we’re going to have trouble with that in the future?” Ryomen raised a brow at Sukuna. Fortunately, the noise did not scare Yuuji in the slightest. In fact, the baby giggled and cooed at the draconic bird amalgamation. This made Infinite shake off the black goop and try to nuzzle the baby’s head, responding with coos and trills of his own. However, a swipe from Supernova’s paw caused the larger creature to whine with disappointment.

“It will definitely be a problem moving forward. That thing cannot live without annoying someone else. He never knows when to shut up. You can chop off his upper half and he’d still be a pain in the ass.” A glare was sent to the dramatic bird, who had used his smoky tail to hit Sukuna in the face. Sukuna suppressed a growl, not noticing that Ryomen was looking at him oddly from his choice of words.

Ryomen sighed, more than used to the ancient curse’s weird phrasing. He adjusted the now wiggling baby in a more secure grip and looked at the other guardians. He was briefed on the names and purposes of the guardians that would accompany Yuuji long ago, but nothing could have prepared him for how strange they looked. Any grievances he would have had disappeared once he heard his son’s happy squeals as Supernova began to groom the small amount of pink hair on Yuuji’s head. The cat was clearly different from the average feline. Not just from his purple fur and spikes, but also his behavior. All the cats Ryomen had interacted with in the past had no qualms with biting or scratching him if he so much as breathed the wrong way. In contrast, Supernova let the baby grab at his tail which most cats would have clawed someone for doing. His purrs were somehow much more soothing than other cats. The purring Supernova was emitting made vibrations go through Ryomen’s body, causing him to unconsciously relax. It had the same effect on Yuuji, so he knew he had to act quickly. Bathing a cranky baby was something Ryomen had no desire to deal with at this time of night.

To his chagrin, the five guardians that weren’t allowed to enter the bathroom were sulking. Boogie and Infinite were the loudest with their complaints, one was howling in pure agony while the other was chirping as pitifully as possible. The rose on Resonance’s left eye wilted at the edges while the green lights on Chimera’s face had dimmed considerably. It was nearly impossible to read Overtime’s body language, so Ryomen paid attention to the looser wrappings around his body. The wrappings were subtly reaching out in the direction of Yuuji. He felt terrible for separating the guardians from their precious ward.

Catching onto Ryomen’s internal dilemma, Sukuna rolled his eyes. “The guardians will not disappear if they are away from Yuuji for five seconds. I suggest you bathe Yuuji now, considering how sleepy the brat is getting.”

“He’s not a brat!” Ryomen responded instantly. Although, he knew that Sukuna was right about Yuuji’s sleepiness. “Just make sure they don’t break in, okay? They can watch by the door if they get too restless.”

“They’re already restless, so that is a given” Sukuna responded with a scoff.

Ryomen shook his head and flipped Sukuna off as he turned to enter the bathroom. The snarl that followed made Ryomen smirk as he closed the door. Big, honey eyes looked at the new space in complete awe. Yuuji was staring at the sink as if it was the eighth wonder of the world. A warmness that Ryomen hadn’t felt in centuries blossomed in his chest at the sight of his precious son’s curiosity. He had waited so long to have Yuuji in his arms again. If he wasn’t careful, he knew that he would be sobbing his heart out at any moment once being reunited with his long-lost son. However, duty calls, and Ryomen could not be bursting into tears while his baby needed him.

The bathroom had long been baby-proofed, so some of Ryomen’s many anxieties could be eased. He first took out a blanket from one of the cupboards and placed the fluffy material on the tile floor. Yuuji giggled when Ryomen booped his nose after placing him on the blanket. It took all of Ryomen’s self control not to cry and not to cradle Yuuji in his arms and never let go. He shook his head again, focusing on getting the supplies needed for the bath. Considering Yuuji’s sensitive marks, Ryomen chose the gentlest products he had. With that sorted, Ryomen knelt on the floor to turn the faucet on the tub. As the water warmed up, the pink-haired man stood and went to the cupboards beneath the sink. To start, he collected the foldable baby tub he’d bought online and placed it to the side. Afterwards, he grabbed three soft towels that had never been used before. Ryomen pointedly ignored the mirror of the sink, knowing just how rough he looked from his eventful day. If someone had warned him that he would be alerted of his son’s presence while buying groceries, causing him to run out of the store with one bag in hand as he forgot the rest of his groceries because he was too busy running down the street with Sukuna screaming directions in his ear, which then led to him looking like an insane person as he shouted at the parasite in his head for all to see, further fueling his determination to get to his son’s location as fast as possible, making him throw up at least four times from the overexertion as he sprinted about ten miles to the forest his son was in, only to find his baby boy wailing in fright and hunger whilst being surrounded by the most powerful and influential sorcerers in the country…then Ryomen would have drank all of Sukuna’s stolen saki until he forgot how to feel feelings.

I should still find the time to steal Sukuna’s saki. He stole it from the finest restaurants in Japan, so stealing it again shouldn’t count as a crime. Not like he can get drunk anyway . His musings were interrupted when a paw incessantly tugged on his pants. Ryomen snapped back to reality, and he was surprised to see Supernova sitting on his leg, nodding his head towards the tub with a disapproving gaze. Somehow, the sharp meow Supernova let out felt like a harsh reprimand. Shit, I really need to focus. Can parenting skills get rusty after a thousand years?

Ryomen breathed in deeply for a few moments to get his frazzled nerves under control. He placed one towel on the floor where he’d be kneeling, another on the edge of the tub to clean up splashes and bubbles, and the third was resting on the counter of the sink to be used at the end. Luckily, the water was the perfect temperature without Ryomen’s interference. At the same time, Supernova was being used as a living plush toy by a giggling baby. Yuuji was on the cat's fluffy back with a smile. His tiny hands gripped at the fur, and his head was buried into the purple softness. Golden eyes started to flutter as he further burrowed his head in the warmth. Supernova never once growled at the baby, only nudging the boy’s cheek to keep him awake.

When Ryomen turned to place Yuuji in the tub, a snort left his lips to see his adorable son trying to use Supernova as a bed. He gently plucked the baby from Supernova’s back and removed the baby’s diaper and dirty onesie. Part of him was worried that Yuuji would start wailing at the separation, but his fears were put to rest as his boy made grabby hands at Ryomen’s face. The father and son duo had matching smiles that could rival the sun in their brightness.

This time, Ryomen could not stop his tears from flowing when chubby hands grabbed at his nose. Yuuji giggled when Ryomen nuzzled his nose into the baby’s soft grip. Dark honey met golden honey, and Ryomen finally felt complete. One of Yuuji’s hands patted Ryomen’s cheek, coos of shere delight escaping the boy’s lips. His baby boy giggled again and looked back at his crying father. Ryomen let out a watery laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Oh…Hi…Hi, Yuuji … Hi …I’m your Papa, remember? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay? You already have so many people who will always love you and protect you. You’ll never be alone. You’ll always have someone to dry your tears. You’ll forever have someone to hug you when you’re scared. You’ll always have a roof over your head. You’ll always be warm and cozy. You’ll never have to go hungry ever again. You won’t get sick anymore. I promise.” Memories of a long forgotten plague filled Ryomen’s mind. The helplessness. The pain. The grief. The rage-

Another pat on his face broke Ryomen from his spiraling thoughts. This time, Yuuji was patting his forehead repeatedly. His chubby cheeks were puffed out in pout. The baby looked just as disapproving as Supernova had earlier. Tears of pure joy soon streamed down Ryomen’s face as a much more pleasant memory surfaced.

“No sad, Papa! I hit sad away!”

“Yuuji, hon, you’re hitting me- OW! Stop it, sweetie, you don’t need to- OW! OW! Okay! Okay, the sad is gone! Good job, Yuuji! You can stop hitting Papa’s head now.”

“No!”

“N-No?”

“You still sad! Need more hits!”

“Wait, Yuuji- OW! OW! You’re doing this on purpose- OW!”

A genuine laugh burst from Ryomen’s chest. “I should have expected your lack of tolerance for sadness.” Ryomen kissed Yuuji’s forehead, remembering what he still had to do. He switched to holding Yuuji with one arm and placed the smaller baby tub inside the larger bathtub and waited until the tiny tub was at the appropriate water level. He also placed a stopper in to prevent the surrounding warm water from draining out. After testing the water’s temperature again, the pink-haired man carefully placed Yuuji into the baby tub. In an instant, Supernova jumped onto the rim of the bathtub in order to watch the baby like a hawk. There wasn’t much need to do so because the baby tub was shallow enough that drowning was impossible with Ryomen there. However, it was still nice to have someone care for his son so much.

Yuuji was confused at first from the new sensations, but he quickly relaxed into the warm water. Ryomen got out the baby wash and squeezed it into the water. As he swirled the water with his hand, Yuuji squealed as bubbles appeared. The baby was ecstatic as he slapped his tiny palms into the water. However, Yuuji had always been a boy with excess strength, even as a baby. Soapy water hit Ryomen in his face. He sighed and grabbed the towel on the corner of the bathtub. When he opened his eyes, he was relieved to see that no burn came, proving the gentleness of the baby wash and shampoo. He’d definitely be buying from the brand in the future.

Yuuji wiggled around and splashed some more, even managing to soak Supernova. The attentive cat simply shook his head to rid himself of the water and went back to watching Yuuji. The sight of the purple feline’s droopy, wet fur made Ryomen snicker. Eventually, Yuuji would calm down enough to allow Ryomen to properly wash him without making an ocean out of the bathroom. A mild scent of honey could be detected from the soap and the same was seen in the shampoo.

Maybe I should start calling him little bee. Ryomen thought to himself. With the stripes on Yuuji’s tiny body, it was easy to compare the baby to a bumblebee. However, he could not abandon his favorite nickname of all. The black stripes along his son’s face and body resembled a tiger much more than a bee. “Seems like my tiger cub finally got his stripes, hm?”

As cute as the stripes were, Ryomen knew that it wasn’t normal for a baby to have. There were two stripes on each side of Yuuji's cheeks, six stripes of varying length on his arms, three stripes along the length of each leg, and one circular marking on his chest. What was most concerning was that it was painful if he touched Yuuji’s tattoos. He was hoping the pain was temporary and would go away with time. For now, Ryomen would continue to use the gentlest products for his boy. When he began washing Yuuji’s tattoos, he treated them like they were more fragile than porcelain. Yuuji had initially whined at the touch, causing the spines on Supernova’s back to raise in anger. Fortunately, Ryomen’s face would not get mauled as the tiny whines stopped after a few seconds. On closer inspection, there was a faint outline of redness surrounding each marking. He frowned, but Ryomen knew of the many lotions he had bought specifically tailored towards irritated skin in infants. Turns out his many online shopping sprees in the middle of the night would prove useful.

When it was time for shampoo, Yuuji had splashed most of the water from his tub. Ryomen used a small pitcher attached to the wall on his right to scoop out the warm water surrounding the larger bathtub. It was still warm, so Ryomen gently poured the water into the near empty baby tub. Yuuji squealed with the additional water. Before he could splash Ryomen and Supernova for the umpteenth time, Ryomen plopped a dollop of shampoo on Yuuji’s head. Immediately, the baby cooed and tried to reach for his head. The man and cat both sagged in relief. Not wanting to have the shampoo run down Yuuji’s face, Ryomen used one hand to block Yuuji’s eyes and another to scoop water onto the baby’s head. With great care, Ryomen lathered the shampoo into the pink hair, making sure that every speck of dirt was gone. He had thought that he would need to spend ages removing each tiny splinter and stick from his boy’s hair. It seemed like Supernova had taken care of that when the feline had groomed the baby’s pink-hair earlier. Ryomen looked at the cat, who was still watching his boy with great focus. Thanks to Supernova, the bath would go much faster than Ryomen anticipated. It made sense that the cat would be so attentive according to Sukuna’s brief descriptions of the guardians.

Supernova will be Yuuji’s bodyguard in a sense. His regular form is smaller than the rest, but he is large for a cat. That’s why he can alter the size of his form to fit the situation, so Yuuji can take him anywhere. Supernova is capable of both long range and close range attacks with his blood manipulation technique. He’s the ‘all-in-one’ guardian and will protect Yuuji with his life. I doubt that protection will spread to you or me because that cat does not give a shit about what happens to anyone besides Yuuji. He doesn't even seem to care that much about the other guardians. Oh, and before I forget, don’t try petting him either. If you’re not Yuuji and you pet him, the little fucker will slice your hand off.

For once, Ryomen was grateful to Sukuna. If he hadn’t warned him, Ryomen would have pet the fluffy cat upon seeing Supernova. It was a good thing that Yuuji had shown nothing but happiness towards Ryomen. Any tears would spell his doom.

Yuuji luckily only continued to coo at Ryomen’s gentle ministrations. Once the shampoo was fully washed off, the peach locks were vibrant. Ryomen smiled as he realized that he, Yuuji, and Sukuna all shared the exact shade of pink. Additionally, they all had tattoos of their own. Sukuna had the most, but Ryomen had his fair share as well. He had the same markings on his forehead, nose, cheeks, and shoulders that Sukuna had. He had two black bands on each thigh and two on each calf. The two bands around each of his wrists were the most unique. They were thinner than the other bands on his skin. The top band separated into five lines that spread to his hand and fingers. In fact, the lines even grew onto his nail bed. No amount of filing would rub off the marks, so Ryomen got into the habit of painting his nails with the darkest polishes he could find. The lines would then travel down to the pads of his fingers, forming a perfect square on each one. He had an identical black square on the sole of both feet. All the squares were a symbol of the technique he has. While Sukuna had all the brutality and strength, Ryomen had the firepower so to speak.

“Oi, dumbass! Are you done yet or have you finally succumbed to your stupidity?” Sukuna’s muffled voice broke the peaceful environment. The curse had been relentless in teasing him when Ryomen had continued to puke during his dash to get Yuuji. He kept talking about how Ryomen would die any second with his ‘shitty’ endurance.

“Shut up, Sukuna! I thought you had ‘the patience of a god’!”

“I do, but not with these fucking demons throwing tantrums!” After Sukuna said that, Ryomen heard various whines and scratches coming from the other side of the door. A large claw tried going through the crack under the door with a miserable squawk. Infinite continued his mournful cries until a spotted wrapping yanked his claw from the door.

Seeing as his time was up and not wanting to have Yuuji’s skin get pruny, Ryomen grabbed the towel from the counter and wrapped Yuuji securely. He got out a soft cloth and began to dry Yuuji with it. He would have used a normal towel, but Ryomen was taking no chances in irritating his baby’s sensitive skin. Yuuji was quickly starting to fall asleep, so Ryomen used all his focus to be even more gentle. Behind him, Supernova was grooming himself to rid his fur of the soapy water. The cat went to the door crack and hissed. In response, the very tip of Infinite’s beak poked through. Based on the muffled swears from Sukuna and the sounds of things crashing, Infinite’s large body had knocked several things over in his attempt to peek under the door.

“Looks like our time is up, little tiger. Let’s get you to bed. You’ve had quite the day!” Ryomen carried a now dry Yuuji in his arms wrapped in another towel. The shirt Ryomen had been wearing was so soaked that he had to use the towel he had first bundled Yuuji in to wipe the slippery tile. He took off the wet fabric and threw it in the sink’s basin, too tired to clean the messy bathroom. It was a problem for future Ryomen. Current Ryomen was on his way to passing out like his sleepy son.

Supernova backed away from the door, shrinking in size before jumping on Ryomen’s shoulder again. His smaller form allowed the cat to curl up without having most of its body hanging off. To his relief, Infinite had removed his beak from the door. He took a deep breath in and opened the door and was met with a disaster.

Several vases lay shattered on the floor, spilling dirt everywhere. A few nails had been stabbed into the walls, and there were claw marks along the floor. Some of the paintings on the walls had been knocked over or were covered in slobber. Black goop managed to stain the ceiling. Shreds of spotted fabric also littered the floor. At the center of the mess was a tense Sukuna. He had his four arms crossed, refusing to look at Ryomen. It was clear that the guardians let their anxiety get the best of them, and Sukuna was a horrid babysitter. Before said curse could let a word out, Ryomen raised a hand. Whatever expression Ryomen was adorning was enough to shut Sukuna up and make all the guardians sheepishly back away.

Tomorrow. It’s tomorrow’s problem. That was the mantra running through Ryomen’s head. The only source of solace for the poor man was the weight in his arms. Yuuji was completely knocked out with his tiny head buried in Ryomen’s right shoulder. On his left shoulder, Supernova was purring again with his warm fur tickling Ryomen’s neck. In silence, the others followed the pink-haired man into the nursery.

The nursery was made with love and care. Yuuji’s crib was meticulously carved by a certain curse with a tendency for slashing. Intricate swooping patterns were carved into the wooden crib. Flames outlined the edges of the crib with sharp notches between each flame. On the front of the crib was the symbol on Sukuna and Ryomen’s foreheads. According to the ancient curse, it was actually a rune marked into their skins to offer strength and bravery. He didn’t entirely believe Sukuna, but Ryomen let it slide.

“If anyone messes up the nursery, I am killing every last one of you.” Ryomen whispered to the others as he placed Yuuji on the changing table. Even with the room being so inviting with its beautiful abstract paintings of flowers and tigers, an army of animal plushies, fluffy blankets with matching pillows, and impossibly plush carpet, all the creatures in the room felt like they were facing death itself.

The exhaustion of a single father was not to be messed with.

With the threat in all their heads, the remaining guardians were very careful as they maneuvered around the nursery. Chimera headed towards a dark corner, hiding himself in the shadow with only his green eyes visible. Boogie laid his large body on the side of the carpet in the center of the room, tailing gently wagging. The canine laid his head on his paws and got into a comfortable position to sleep. Resonance was the most cautious, knowing her sharp appendages could do great damage to the room. She sat down on the red rocking chair in another corner and curled up as much as she could. Overtime loosened the wrappings on his body to plop down next to the crib. This allowed him to take up less space. His more solid left side began to glow brighter, heating up the room as Overtime allowed the magma inside his body flow along the cracks of his body. Being the longest and largest, Infinite had the most trouble fitting into the nursery. He chirped in irritation before he saw the stone rafters on the ceiling. The ancient origins of their home had its apparent perks. Infinite trilled softly as he used his lengthy form to reach the rafters that fortunately supported his weight. The high position allowed Infinite to have a bird’s eye view of the room, which was quite fitting for the draconic bird. Infinite let his smokey tail dangle from a gap in the rafters. The tail opened slightly, revealing six eyes that were bright enough to be a nightlight. Each eye was focused on the sleepy baby in Ryomen’s arms, now dawned in a yellow onesie and fresh diaper.

Despite his fatigue, Ryomen’s eyes were bright with happiness as he rocked Yuuji in his arms, patting his back. In seconds, the baby went back to sleep. He had been woken up when his father dressed him and was eager to fall asleep again. Ryomen delicately placed the baby into the crib as if the boy was made of glass. A small, pink blanket was draped over the infant. All the occupants in the room were momentarily frozen as each was immersed in watching the small baby’s rising and falling chest. Supernova shrunk again and curled around the baby, giving Yuuji one last lick.

Eventually, the exhaustion within Ryomen grew too great to handle. His limbs subtly trembled with the effort to remain standing. What broke Ryomen from his slight trance was a notification from his phone. He had left his phone on the changing table when Yuuji had first arrived. Seeing how the baby was in nothing but a bundle and diaper, Ryomen ran to get something to put on his son. The man reluctantly walked away from the crib to see what kind notification would pop up this late at night. He stared at the bright screen for about a minute, his eyes widening the more the information settled in his tired mind.

It was a message from an unknown number.

Congratulations on the reunion! Your odd little family has made quite the impact on Jujutsu society! Word spreads quite fast among sorcerers, you know? You’re the hot topic of discussion! Say hi to Yuuji for me :) -K

The phone shattered in Ryomen’s hand.

Without a word, Ryomen stormed out of the room, harshly grabbing the curse by the door so hard Sukuna felt his arm pop. The guardians were startled by the sudden fury in Ryomen, but they stayed where they were. Yuuji continued to sleep, unaware of the doom upon them.

Ryomen had dragged Sukuna into the living room. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand. His breaths were rapid and harsh. It took a couple minutes for Ryomen to gather the energy to speak. The rage in Ryomen’s eyes overtook the fatigue. His first words to break the tense silence were snarled, sounding more beast than human.

“I’m going to fucking murder you, Sukuna.”

-Present-

Sukuna was fond of the home they had found.

The place they were currently in used to be an old shrine dedicated to Sukuna. This allowed the massive curse to exist outside of Ryomen’s body. While Sukuna’s form in the shrine was visible, it was not tangible by any means. Ryomen could stick a hand through his form, much to the curse’s displeasure and Ryomen’s amusement. If he reinforced his ghostly body with cursed energy, he would become more solid. However, once the curse was outside the shrine’s given boundaries, there was nothing Sukuna could do to remain corporeal. The only way that Sukuna could return to his physical form was if he used Ryomen to do so. Over the years, the two had developed a give and take method. If Sukuna wanted to take over when Ryomen didn’t want to switch, he would need to do a favor for the man. The same applied for Ryomen if he wanted to take back control. Sukuna could take over the man’s body easily and never give it back, but it was counterintuitive to his goal of keeping Yuuji happy and safe. This goal alo prevented Sukuna from going on a mass murdering rampage as any large-scale attacks from the curse would garner too much attention from the sorcerers.

So much for not alerting the sorcerers.

With how angry Ryomen was at Sukuna, he doubted that the man would allow him to take over any time soon. For now, he would have to be satisfied as being a ghost for the time being. He leaned against the doorframe of the nursery with his four arms crossed over each other. The guardians Sukuna had wished for were just as unruly as he remembered. While the six creatures were dedicated to protecting Yuuji at all costs, they still had no intention of respecting or listening to Sukuna’s orders. In fact, they were all glaring at him from the floor of the nursery. He rolled his eyes and glanced at Ryomen. The tired, pink-haired man was cradling a crying Yuuji, rocking him gently to soothe the child. It wasn’t the cry of a hungry baby or a baby that needed a change. No. It was the cry of a baby in pain. Two other marks had appeared on Yuuji’s face. Marks that made Sukuna tense up considerably.

A mark on the tip of his right eyebrow, splitting it.

A mark on the left corner of his lip.

That’s where Yuuji’s deepest scars used to be.

Sukuna cursed under his breath. The curse was well aware of what he had done in a world that no longer exists. While most of his memories had become foggy, he had a general understanding of his actions, especially of the times he made Yuuji suffer. Ryomen was unaware of what Sukuna had done to the world, and the curse had no plans of ever telling him. This new world was supposed to be completely different but it seemed like there were some ‘stragglers’ that refused to go. Events that could not be erased. People that would not disappear.

He had a feeling he already knew who this ‘K’ was. The random message sounded friendly on surface level, but Sukuna wasn’t an idiot. The hidden threat woven into the amiable text was easy to detect. There was only one person that Sukuna knew who was crazy and powerful enough to mess with Sukuna and not die.

Only time will tell if I actually made things worse . Sukuna looked at the cursed souls surrounding Ryomen as the man continued to comfort the distressed infant, all anger from his previous encounter with Sukuna gone. Due to the nature of their souls, Sukuna knew everything there was to Ryomen. He had originated from the man, afterall. Even so, there were stark differences between the two. Sukuna hated children while Ryomen had an immense soft spot for them. Yuuji didn’t count . Ryomen was impatient while Sukuna was willing to wait decades for a plan of his to come to fruition. Sukuna kept his composure while Ryomen had a temper that would go off at a moment's notice. Ryomen was violent when he needed to be while Sukuna reveled in the bloodshed he caused.

However, there was one thing that both beings could agree on: Protecting Yuuji at all costs .

It was a pathetic goal for one as powerful as him to have, but Sukuna had made peace with it long ago. The curse glanced at the baby, whose wails had turned into soft sniffles, and felt a stabbing pain in his chest. Ryomen was soothing his hand against Yuuji’s tiny back. He was humming a nameless tune with his eyes closed and a soft smile on his usually stressed features. It was likely that Ryomen had not noticed what he was doing as he hated whenever Sukuna caught him doing something ‘weak’. Likely too tired to be aware of his surroundings. Normally, Sukuna would have shouted at Ryomen to startle the high-strung man and laugh at his misery. This time, the curse stayed silent to allow Ryomen time with the boy he had been waiting for for centuries. His beloved son. Sukuna noticed the guardians for the baby gently copying the tune Ryomen was unknowingly humming. There were soft purrs, rumbles, chitters, and trills in the air. The small symphony of sounds began to lull the baby back to sleep.

The sight was utterly domestic.

This was not a place a curse was welcomed in. Sukuna knew that he did not belong among such a peaceful sight, but he was prideful enough to remain where he was by the door. Nothing would force Sukuna to do anything he did not wish to do.

Infinite looked at him.

All the warmth that Sukuna felt had turned to ice. No one aside from Sukuna himself noticed the change in atmosphere, meaning that the annoying entity had targeted him and him alone. The cocoon of adoration and protection had been closed off in order to prevent Sukuna from entering. It wasn’t like the curse had any intentions of entering such a pitiful environment, but it was still irritating to see the obvious attempts at pushing him away. Out of all the guardians Yuuji had, Infinite was the most ‘aware’ so to speak. Each creature was wired to perform a different duty in caring for the boy. They were beings that operated on pure instinct, complex thoughts practically impossible for their fragmented minds. What little remained of their souls aided in their jobs as Yuuji’s protectors, yet it also caused the entities to have leftover feelings towards certain people. All of them showed great disdain for Sukuna, but Infinite’s disdain was different. Of course, the others' dislike of him specifically was more due to a personal instinct than anything else. In contrast, Infinite looked at Sukuna with nothing but clarity in the many blue eyes within his tail.

Stay away.

You’re not wanted here.

Get out.

I’ll kill you if you get any closer.

Those were the messages Infinite was sending Sukuna with nothing but his piercing gaze. The blindfold attached to the creature’s face did not hinder in his staring contest with Sukuna. His tail had more than enough eyes necessary to stare the curse down.

If the sorcerer Infinite originated from was completely aware in that draconic bird form, then Sukuna would not be still standing. Gojo Satoru was currently an eighteen-year-old boy who recently entered his third-year in Jujutsu High. Infinite was not Gojo Satoru, simply the minute remains of a long dead man. While Infinite was the strongest out of the six cursed souls, the creature was also the most intelligent. Sukuna could see the gears in Infinite’s head turning at all times, analyzing any potential threats to Yuuji and his fellow protectors. The bird’s ability to have somewhat coherent thoughts would likely be a pain for Ryomen to deal with in the future. Sukuna had long gotten accustomed to Infinite's infuriating habits.

No matter what form he took, Gojo Satoru would always be a thorn in Sukuna’s side.

With a deep sigh, Sukuna made his way out of the nursery. He did not have the energy to deal with Infinite’s aggression. Ryomen’s exhaustion was caused by the man barely eating, running several miles with no breaks, and the overall stress of today. Sukuna was different. His fatigue was perpetual, something Sukuna had gotten used to over the years. In his previous life, nothing was capable of tiring Sukuna out. He could keep going whilst all his enemies collapsed from exhaustion. No one was powerful enough to challenge Sukuna in a meaningful way. This did not mean that his current strength and cursed energy had been weakened in any way, but his exhaustion had caused Sukuna to ‘settle down’ so to speak. While Sukuna still enjoyed causing mayhem, he did not seek out as many opportunities to do so anymore. In his previous life, Sukuna had hated sitting still and being lazy. Now, Sukuna took naps and meditated often.

He did what he wanted, and Sukuna wanted to relax.

Ryomen would likely ignore him for the rest of the night. Additionally, the curse knew damn well that the stubborn man would refuse to sleep in his own room tonight. Sukuna mentally prepared himself for the crankiness to come since there was no way to get Ryomen to sleep on anything but the nursery floor.

The cool air of the night greeted the curse’s translucent skin. Sukuna could not properly feel the wind as a specter. It felt like a thin barrier was between him and the breeze in this form. He shook his head and continued walking until he saw a great pond in the center of the shrine’s gardens. The pond acted as a well of cursed energy for Sukuna. Whoever had created the shrine clearly dedicated every detail to the King of Death. Sukuna found himself liking this title so much more than his previous one. Crimson, wooden poles surrounded the shrine, a bovine skull on the top of each one. The poles also served as a visual marker for the area Sukuna had to stay within. Anywhere beyond the poles would cause Sukuna to discorporate and be sent back into Ryomen’s body.

Two large torch towers stood on each side of the back entrance of the shrine. The inferno on each tower was contained with a basin of human bones. When Sukuna had first discovered this shrine several years ago, Ryomen had lit the tower with his flames, and he had yet to relight it. It was one of the very very few times Ryomen had managed to impress Sukuna.

His supposed followers had sacrificed countless people in honor of their king. The remains of the sacrifices were buried underneath the ground, in the ashes and structure of the torches, carved into the wooden poles, and placed in the pond Sukuna was sitting in front of. Sukuna had a faint memory of the cults that were created to worship him, mostly done out of fear, which was a massive ego booster. However, Sukuna never paid them any mind, so the curse had been very surprised yet pleased to see a shrine dedicated to him that had remained intact in the modern era. At Ryomen’s many complaints, Sukuna let the human update the interior of the shrine with the technology of the time. It took a long time due to the unique layout of the temple. Stone had been used to build many support beams and even rooms. With Ryomen’s revamping the entire insides, Sukuna had full control over the decorations of the outside. Sukuna changed nothing, much to Ryomen’s displeasure. He only added one thing. Koi.

With the pond already built into the ground, Sukuna simply stole several koi from the many luxurious ponds of rich establishments and homes. Ryomen had yelled at him when he realized that Sukuna had been using his body to take priceless fish away from their owners in the dead of night. The man had said how important those fish must have been and other nonsense that Sukuna ignored. If those fish were so precious, then it shouldn’t have been so easy to pluck each one out of their pond! Sukuna tossed all the fish into the large pond with little care, promptly returning control to Ryomen. Despite wanting to argue with Sukuna about his terrible decisions, Ryomen had to care for the many stressed koi fish. He had always been fond of being a caretaker, so it was easy for him to fall in love with the colorful fish. Eventually, the koi would swarm to Ryomen each time he approached the pond, reminding the man of how his late son would beam at him and run into his arms. On the other hand, it had taken a few weeks for the fish to stop scattering in Sukuna's presence. During those weeks, the fish began to change in appearance. The immense cursed energy inside the pond began affecting the koi. Instead of their vibrant oranges and whites, the fish were either fully black, red, or a mixture of the two. Their fins got longer and more elegant at the price of having spikes emerge from their entire dorsal fin. Ryomen was upset at the change, but the koi’s bright personalities had, at least, remained. They still swarmed to the surface for food, but they now had sharp teeth in their mouths like piranhas. Sukuna preferred the change and began to sit at the pond every night, which he was currently doing.

Sukuna’s form became more solid at the proximity to the pond. It was wide and deep, allowing the fish ample space to swim in. At this hour of the night, the water looked pitch black, but Sukuna had no troubles seeing in the dark. His superior vision allowed the curse to see the depths of the pool. Skulls could be found everywhere beneath the waters. Some of the smaller koi used the skulls as a makeshift cave while the larger fish used the remains of rib cages as hiding places. Many plants in the pond grew out of or around the many bones at the pond’s bottom. It was a human graveyard with aquatic life.

The presence of death would never hinder the growth and birth of life.

How stubborn.

The koi were not very active at this hour, but some swam to the surface to greet the large being observing them. Four fish had come to see him. One was entirely black while the other two were red with varying black patterns. In contrast to the darker fish, there was a pink koi that swam eagerly to the hand Sukuna submerged.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Sukuna smiled at the small koi. It was fitting that the pond would have a new arrival to match Yuuji’s own arrival. The curse knew the pond had become something akin to the supernatural from the cursed energy of the sacrifices, but he did not care as long as they stayed in the pond. The tiny koi matched the color of Sukuna’s hair. The familiar peach was present in Ryomen’s and Yuuji’s hair. Having pink hair was a shared trait the three had, and Sukuna took pride in their unique hair color. He knew that Ryomen secretly held the same pride. It immediately made the pink koi Sukuna’s favorite. Small pecks tickled Sukuna’s large palm as the smallest koi tried to investigate what the strange object was. It was endearing to see such a young creature be so eager to go near a curse like him. One reason that Sukuna frequented the pond so much was something he would not tell a soul even if he was tortured.

Interacting with the koi helped Sukuna learn how to be gentle.

There were a few accidents where Sukuna was too rough and injured or killed the fish. He used his reverse technique to heal them, which his old self would have guffawed at. Slowly, Sukuna learned how to control the strength of his grip. Now, the curse had no worries of hurting the young koi that was swimming through his fingers. While he did prefer to have claws instead of his blunt nails, it was necessary for the safety of the delicate fish. More importantly, his lack of claws was vital if he wanted to hold Yuuji without cutting the poor baby’s skin. Skin that was already marked up.

Because Sukuna knew he was alone in his shrine that was in the middle of nowhere, Sukuna let his body deflate. Ryomen and the others were too preoccupied with Yuuji, so no one would be coming to see Sukuna any time soon. With solitude came comfort for the curse. He had always preferred being alone than wasting his time with the weak. The koi were his only company, and they could not speak of the troubles plaguing the ancient being. Sukuna caressed the pink koi before retracting his hand. With practiced ease, the man folded his four arms and placed them in his lap. As if knowing that Sukuna would no longer pay attention to them, the small group of koi swam away into the depths of the pond. Without the fish’s movements, the dark water stilled. The combination of the calm waters and bright moon made the pond turn into a makeshift mirror. It was something Sukuna did not appreciate whatsoever.

Seeing his reflection within the dark waters made Sukuna’s features twist into a grimace. In a forgotten world, Sukuna used to have two eyes and one pair of arms. After his planned death, his cursed form reflected the monstrous crimes Sukuna had committed. This was not to say that Sukuna was self conscious or had low self-esteem. Sukuna did not care about his ugliness whatsoever. It was a fact that he was unpleasant to look at. His looks had no effect on his power, so he offered them no further thought. Additionally, he had never had an interest in courting someone and never will. Yorozu was the only person who had wanted him as a suitor, and he met all of her advances with boredom, disgust, and a fatal slash to her heart. His deformities irked him because of the memories that they brought forth.

He had had more than enough time to accept his deformed face and body. However, Sukuna was not delusional enough to say that his unique features were what made him attractive or that he had some ‘hidden beauty’ within. Absolutely not. His two left eyes were a demonic crimson while his two right eyes were a gaudy pink. A wooden slab of sorts had fused into the right side of his skin, causing his right eyes to be more vertical. It was the same wood that Sukuna had carved runes into that would ensure his new life after being burnt alive. Both the wood and his new pink eyes were a harsh reminder of his forgotten origins. While the wood represented his birth as a curse, the pink of his eyes were a symbol of the cause of his death. Itadori Yuuji.

Going against the rules of nature and time had its consequences. Besides the new color of his right eyes, Sukuna had several new tattoos adorning his skin. A thick, black band wrapped around each of his ankles. On the outside of his left leg, a blood red chain that emerged from the band on his ankle marked his skin. The same pattern appeared on the outside of his right leg, but the tattoo was black instead of red. Each of his hands had their own unique mark at the center of his palms. His bottom right hand had Mahoraga’s spinning wheel which had allowed Sukuna to reach new heights in power, his bottom left hand had the outline of the volcano that resided on the head of the cyclops disaster curse he’d fought, his upper right hand had an eye that represented the annoying Six-Eyes user, and his upper left hand had the horizontal stitching pattern that plagued each of Kenjaku’s stolen bodies. It was fitting. The markings on his bottom set of hands were a harsh reminder of the destruction Sukuna had wrought while the markings on his upper set represented the two people that had troubled Sukuna the most.

None of the new markings plagued Sukuna as much as the tattoo on his chest.

A red spider lily seemed to grow out of the center of his chest. The flower was there for all to see since Sukuna refused to cover his top half. It was a simple drawing, but its simplicity only bothered him more. Such a delicate design had no place on his monstrous body. The deep reds of the flower blended perfectly into the blacks of the tattoo’s outlines. Sukuna knew damn well what the stupid flower symbolized. Death and Rebirth. He had no desire to look further into the supposed meanings. From what he had gathered over the past few centuries, this flower was poisonous, often grew or planted in graveyards, and only bloomed for a short period of time during the Autumn Equinox. It was also ugly in Sukuna’s opinion. The crimson of its petals were its only redeeming quality. Everything else was horrendous. The petals themselves were so thin and spindly. It looked like a spider with too many legs had gotten tangled with the shredded remnants of a better flower. However, there was nothing Sukuna could do to remove any of his new markings. He had killed the world, and then started it anew. Sukuna more than deserved the reminders of his misdeeds bashing him on the head for the rest of time.

It was strange to think of his actions as misdeeds. Even now, the regret did not come to Sukuna naturally. He was not a creature made for sympathy or guilt. The only reason that Sukuna looked at some of his prior acts and winced was the effect they had had on Yuuji. At the time, he had laughed at the boy’s misery and went out of his way to torture him. He had taken great pleasure in breaking the child back then.

I’LL DO ANYTHING! DO WHATEVER YOU WANT WITH ME! THIS IS JUST LIKE WHEN YOU FIXED MY HEART! PLEASE HELP JUNPEI!

NO. HAH! YOU’RE MINE! YOUR FUTURE AND EVERYTHING YOU WILL EVER POSSESS! YOU DON’T HAVE A SAY IN THIS! YOU’RE HELPLESS! HOW SAD! YOU’RE SO PATHETIC, YOU STUPID BRAT!

Hey, brat. Take a good look.

…Die…Only me…Just me…DIE! DIE! RIGHT NOW! DIE! JUST ME! JUST ME!

Remember when I said…we’d see…something interesting…brat?

…Fushiguro?

SUKUNAAAAAAA!!!! YOU!! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LIVE A NORMAL LIFE?! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SPREAD SO MUCH MISERY?!

Well, allow me to ask you this…Why are you so weak? You’re weak, yet you cling to life!

How can a creature that falls apart with one touch say that it always wants to be happy? The helpless have no choice but to swallow the suffering life gives them.

Then let’s see if you can swallow… my suffering.

I miss them, Sukuna! I can’t take it anymore! I want to be with them! Let me be with them! PLEASE !

He had never tortured someone as much as he had tortured Itadori Yuuji. Hell, Sukuna had gone out of his way to hurt Yuuji like it was his sole purpose in life. It was extraordinarily difficult to balance the feelings he has now towards his actions and his feelings he had in the moment of his murderous actions. Now, seeing Yuuji wail in pain from markings that weren’t supposed to be on the baby’s smooth skin, broke something in Sukuna.

Even after everything he had done to give Yuuji a better life, Sukuna had still failed.

Yuuji’s suffering had been too great. Restarting the world was not enough to erase all the trauma the boy was put through. His pain clung onto his infant self, who was supposed to be free of the pain of the past. Considering Yuuji had appeared far sooner than Sukuna expected and the message from an unknown number, the curse knew that there was trouble afoot. A third party had likely inserted themselves to ruin what Sukuna was trying to repair.

Sukuna couldn’t help but dig his nails into the stitching on his upper left hand.

Losing was equivalent to death. It was a belief that Sukuna still held, so this new failure affected the man greatly.

He had thought that all the ‘mushy feelings shit’ that he had felt when he had held a sobbing Yuuji was from the reappearance of Ryomen’s soul. In a way, it was from Ryomen. The long buried memories of a man losing his child and the overwhelming fondness for the teen were all Ryomen. In this new world, Sukuna was confident that he would not be subjected to the softness ever again. Once more, the world rightfully hated Sukuna. Emotions that Sukuna still could not place raged in a violent storm inside Sukuna’s mind at all times.

All the times where he had laughed while Yuuji sobbed uncontrollably from a vicious nightmare. All the times where he had relentlessly reminded Yuuji that the boy’s existence only caused pain. All the times where he had screamed within Yuuji’s head about his uselessness and weakness. All the times where he had denied Yuuji’s broken pleas to stop after barraging him with the reasons why the deaths of his loved ones was Yuuji’s fault.

The satisfaction he had when he saw the light in the boy’s eyes fade away.

The glee he had when he saw the smiles the boy was known for disappear.

The pride he had when he saw the unbreakable boy shatter further and further with each death of his loved ones.

He saw the memories of a younger Ryomen playing with a toddler Yuuji, causing the child to squeal with laughter. He saw the memories of the utter adoration Yuuji had shown towards his father and anyone around him. He saw the memories of the agonizing decline of Yuuji as an unknown sickness sapped his light until it was completely extinguished.

Because of Sukuna’s mistakes, Yuuji might have to go through that suffering all over again.

Small ripples agitated the calm surface of the water. The reflection of the massive curse was muddled as more droplets broke the crystalline waters of the pond. Its prior reflectiveness had vanished.

The mind of the being sitting before the pond had vanished as well.

A very, very long time ago

When Sukuna had requested for the rebirth of the world, he did not mean it literally. He imagined that the new timeline would begin the same year Yuuji swallowed his first finger.

It seemed like the world had other plans.

Sukuna had no recollection of when he had ‘appeared’. The best way for him to describe it is the moment he had properly gained consciousness. His first memories were laying on an empty beach with nothing but the clothes on his back. At first, Sukuna was confused as to why he was at an empty beach. After a few seconds, the knowledge of what Sukuna had done and the life he lived prior came rushing to him all at once. Once he remembered, the man had briefly panicked that his attempt at time travel had not worked. This was mainly due to the beach being identical to the one that Sukna had been at during his last moments with Yuuji.

At the thought of the pink-haired boy, Sukuna jumped to his feet, mind frantic, and looked around. Immediately, the curse knew that the world was indeed different. Yuuji was nowhere to be seen, and there were no buildings or roads in sight. The only thing that Sukuna could observe were trees as far as his four eyes could see. However, the grand forests were barren of life. There were no birds chirping in the air or the rustle of animals in the trees. This lack of life made Sukuna remember that he had eliminated all life on Earth. He was confused, though. The plant life had returned, so where was the wildlife?

His question was unfortunately answered in the worst way possible.

A strange creature began to crawl out of the ocean on tiny flippers. Sukuna stared at the fish-like animal with his mouth agape. The thing’s body was long and slender with a wide head that resembled an alligator’s. Thick scales covered the creature, who was slowly emerging from the sea with uncoordinated movements. It was unlike any animal Sukuna had seen before and he had been alive for thousands of years.

It looked like a rough draft of an animal that had escaped before it was finalized. Something one would see in prehistoric times.

…Prehistoric.

“Oh no. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO. NO !” Sukuna screamed at the clouds as the realization dawned on him. Surprisingly, the lizard-fish-thing did not react in the slightest to the loud roar Sukuna let out. When Sukuna went to kick the sand in pure frustration, he froze when he saw his foot go through the white particles. The sand showed no hints of being disturbed.

The world had restarted.

He was a ghost again.

The evolution of wildlife had begun.

Over the years, Sukuna would watch the rise and fall of so many species that he could not be bothered to remember. His previous experience being a cursed object for over a thousand years helped immensely in dealing with the excess of time Sukuna had. He had to spend millions of years waiting for the era of humans to come with nothing to do. Going into a dormant state for as long as he could was the only way Sukuna could deal with the waiting without going mad. Sleeping until he was awoken at some point had become his main activity. Time had become a mystery to Sukuna. He would sleep and wake up without knowing how much time had passed. Usually, he was able to keep track by seeing if there were any new creatures or evidence of further evolution.

At the start, Sukuna had used his excess time to explore the beginnings of the young planet. Traveling across the world had been easy due to his abilities remaining intact. His true form was Sukuna in his prime afterall. It was the strongest and the fastest. Sukuna could explore vast lands with his inhuman speed. There was no rush to explore every inch of the world, so Sukuna would only go on these excursions when he felt like it. Most of the land was the same as there were no distinguishing landmarks at the time. He had gotten bored of the plant life and unimpressive wildlife and decided to space out like he did when his soul was split into his twenty fingers without a vessel.

His first ‘nap’ had him awake in an entirely new era. Giant creatures roamed the land with their superior adaptability and strength. Sukuna’s boredom had disappeared as he saw the head of a dinosaur appear over the cliff he had chosen to rest on to eat the leaves off a tree next to him. It was the first time that Sukuna had been truly enamored by an animal. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and crawled to the edge of the cliff to see the dinosaur in its entirety. When he looked down, he saw that the head was attached to an impossibly long neck that belonged to an even bigger body. Other dinosaurs of the same species could be seen feasting on the vibrant leaves of the many trees. Because his presence did not affect his surroundings, he could get as close as he wanted to observe the new creatures. The only reason why Sukuna recognised the massive reptilians as dinosaurs was because Yuuji had been fascinated by all things jurassic as a child. As his vessel, Sukuna was able to see through his memories, something he never told the boy. He had done this as soon as he could to familiarize himself with his vessel while trying to find anything significant about the teen that could work out in Sukuna’s favor. At the time, he had found nothing useful and labeled the boy as a boring waste of space.

Being face to face with the grande creatures made Sukuna see all the reasons why Yuuji had been so intrigued by them. While there were curses he’d seen that could rival the dinosaurs in size, no curse could beat the grace and beauty of the animals. Curses were made from negativity, so their appearance would reflect that. Curses were ugly, vile creatures that were deformed and perverted. The animals before Sukuna were the complete opposite.

It was the first time Sukuna had been fond of a life other than his own.

The slow evolution of the world was making the man experience many firsts.

Sukuna enjoyed studying the fearsome creatures that dominated the land. His favorite specimens were those with intelligence and bloodlust. He would sit and watch packs of tiny dinosaurs overwhelm a much larger opponent, eating them while they were still alive. He found great humor in the small arms of the biggest carnivore of the era. The maddening boredom that had been plaguing him was momentarily cured as Sukuna took the time to learn about each new species. The old curse made up his own names for the many dinosaurs he saw. The faded memories of the book Yuuji loved only served to make Sukuna recognize the basic shape of certain creatures. In his head, Sukuna called every reptilian creature a dinosaur.

For once, Sukuna found himself appreciating nature. Waiting millions of years alone was a punishment, and it was affecting Sukuna more than he anticipated. He had always been indifferent to everyone and everything besides himself. Uraume was the closest Sukuna got to appreciating another’s existence. In the past, Ryomen only valued strength and nothing else. Without strength, one might as well cease to exist. His forced isolation made Sukuna rethink many of his prior beliefs. The only belief that remained unchanged was his belief that losing was equivalent to death. However, said belief only applied to Sukuna. He would never let himself forget his failures that led him to his current predicament.

One day, when Sukuna was watching his favorite specimen, he heard strange noises he had not heard before. The creature Sukuna was looking at was an old, battle-worn triceratops, but Sukuna had named the animals ‘Tri-horns’ in his head. The triceratops snapped its head at the same time Sukuna’s did. Sukuna’s eyes widened as he detected large amounts of cursed energy coming from the bushes. Humans were not supposed to exist yet, right? The man cursed himself for never bothering to learn the history of…well… anything .

Sukuna summoned his trident in his lower right hand, a manic smile on his face at the chance to finally interact with something. There was a tense moment of silence before multiple blurs burst from the bushes and trees. The triceratops snorted and went back to eating its meal of leaves.

Meanwhile, Sukuna’s brain was malfunctioning. Six entities stood before him. They were making direct eye contact with him, meaning that they could see him unlike every other creature. He stood tall with his trident. “Who are you?”

No response came, disappointing filling the old curse. He had hoped that they were capable of speech. Millions of years without talking to anyone was taking its toll, even for an antisocial person like him. Sukuna swallowed his disappointment and began observing each entity. The more he looked, the more distressed he became. There were too many similarities.

A black stripe across a nose.

The muscular physique of a meat-headed gorilla.

Deadly nails and roses.

Spotted fabric and peculiar glasses.

Bright green eyes and shadows.

A blindfold and six blue eyes.

“Goddammit.” Sukuna dematerialized his trident to rub at his temples. He recognized each one because of the brat’s many memories of them.

At the center of the group, a white dragon with bird-like qualities was putting on the most smug expression Sukuna had ever seen. The draconic bird got up and personal to Sukuna, pecking at his head while letting out shrieks of laughter. For the time being, Sukuna allowed it as his mind was still recovering. His stress only grew worse when a familiar voice spoke into his head.

Y̶̮͌o̵̮̎u̴̯̅r̶͙͑ ̶͍̓g̸̠͒ṳ̴̐a̴̙͊r̶͔̅ď̸̘i̴͈̊a̷͙̐n̸̞̽s̵̟̍ ̸̱̍h̶̤͝a̵͖̔v̷̦̚ê̶͈ ̷̣̋ā̵̞r̶̺̓ŗ̸͋ḭ̷́v̷̡͛ȇ̶͍d̸̥̅!̵̧̈́ ̶͈͂I̴͎̾ ̶͔̕c̸̡̿ḁ̷̽n̸͚͑’̸͕̎t̴̊͜ ̵̭̄w̵͍̒a̷͜͝i̵̺̒ẗ̷̳́ ̶̹̍t̷̢̕o̴̫̅ ̷̦͌m̷̦̓a̴̲̎k̷͙͠e̴͙͋ ̸̣̌t̵͇̕h̵̦͌e̴̬͒s̷̛̩e̶̤̍ ̶͓̚n̵̜͐ę̵͘x̷̝͑ț̵͝ ̷̫̚c̶̞̓é̷̲n̶̕͜t̵͖̕u̸̜͗r̷̙̐í̸̩e̵̝͊s̷͇͐ ̶̫͒a̵͍̽b̴̘̐s̶̩̿ò̸͎l̵̩̐ų̵̊t̷̨͊e̶͈̍ ̴̛̳h̵͙͌ë̵̻l̷̬̾l̶̥͂ ̵̼͝f̴̪͂o̸͔͘r̴̗̒ ̵͚͆ỹ̸̼o̴̹̎u̷̗̅,̷̛̭ ̴̰̋S̶̪̕u̷̝͠k̶̥͌ų̷̂~̴̗͛

That stupid bird would keep his promise.

Sukuna would have to endure countless assaults from each entity. The battles often lasted for hours that left each muscle of his throbbing in pain. Sometimes they were individual battles, other times it was six against one. Or three against one. Or two against one. And so on. At first, Sukuna despised the constant battles, but he soon realized that being idle for millions of years had made Sukuna soft. After he realized this, he gladly participated in the battles. It felt incredible to fight again, feel his cursed energy flowing through his veins. As they fought more and more, Sukuna became familiar with each entity’s personality and abilities. Their names had been ingrained into Sukuna’s head the moment he had encountered the beings.

Boogie was a beast in every sense of the word. His thick fur coat could not hide his muscular body whatsoever. He was surprisingly perspective as well. Anytime Sukuna thought he had caught the dog off guard, the beast would bark before he could land a hit. His bark would cause him to switch places with someone with a certain amount of cursed energy. Due to the lack of curses and humans, the only sources of cursed energy were Sukuna or the other guardians. It was disoriented every time his technique took hold. However, each time Sukuna thought he had gotten used to it, Boogie would surprise him with another trick. His most impressive trick was his ability to remove one of the tusks on the second skull on his head. Once dropped, Boogie would imbue it with cursed energy and switch himself or someone of his choice with the tusk. Out of all the guardians, it was the easiest to get along with Boogie. Sukuna and Boogie lived to fight. The canine was always energetic and tended to annoy his other guardians, especially Chimera. Overall, Boogie was a simple yet intelligent creature who fueled Sukuna’s will to battle.

Resonance was unsettling to look at first. Her body moved like a marionette, but was capable of moving at incredible speeds if needed. The sharp ends of her limbs allowed Resonance to stay rooted to the ground, giving her great stability. She was quick to launch a nail at Sukuna or anything that annoyed her. She had awoken Sukuna many times with a barrage of nails aimed at his head. Her nails always hit with deadly accuracy. Sukuna’s reflexes were put to the test each time he engaged with her. Additionally, she could control the direction of a nail until it snatched a part of her opponent. Once gathering the material, she would make the nail return to her, creating a makeshift hammer with her roses and vines to hit the nail into a straw doll she kept hidden within her body. She was as tough as the metal she was made of, but Resonance wasn’t all sharpness and violence. The cursed soul frequented places with loads of flowers, sitting amongst them for hours in a content state.

Supernova rarely interacted with Sukuna outside of battle. He looked at the curse with burning hatred at all times. When attacking, Supernova put effort into making his attacks as painful as possible. His blood manipulation technique was more advanced and deadly than any other Kamo-clan sorcerer Sukuna had ever seen. He wasn’t afraid to get physical, Supernova could grow to the size of a horse and charge at Sukuna with bloodied claws. His spikes could be removed if Supernova had no other choice. During one particularly gruesom battle, Sukuna had lost himself in rage after Supernova managed to cut off two of his arms with his Piercing Bood attack. The cat snarled and spit at Sukuna. He separated his longest spike from his back and shot it directly into Sukuna’s heart. The spike was still attached by a thin strand of blood, but it didn't take away from the force of the attack. It surprised Sukuna to see the cat land such a hit. Of course, Sukuna healed himself, only to see Supernova walking away from the fight with a bored expression. In fact, the cat was practically in a perpetual state of apathy. The only time that Sukuna had ever managed to see emotion on Supernova's features was when he had spied on the cat and saw that the cat was whimpering over several stones. There were ten in total with the three in the middle marked with a bloody paw print. Supernova let out soft whines as he tried his best to nuzzle the rocks. The rock in the very center had a pinkish hue and was the one Supernova was nuzzling the most. No longer wanting to watch the painful sight, Sukuna left with a new perspective on the cat.

Overtime stayed far from Sukuna. Not out of fear, but out of disinterest. The mummy-like creature spent most of his time by Infinite’s side, though it looked like it was often against his will. When not being dragged to places by Infinite, Overtime enjoyed being on the beach Sukuna first woke up at. They had the entire world at their disposal, so Sukuna and the six guardians would travel to the most remote areas. Any place with a beach was favored by Overtime. Though, as long as it was peaceful, Overtime would enjoy it. If the others were intruding on Overtime’s resting spot, he would use his wrappings to constrict whoever had dared disturb him. The most common offender was Infinite. However, the draconic bird would be allowed to stay once he gave Overtime a fruit and didn’t squawk. A few times, Sukuna had caught the often rambunctious bird sleeping in the sand next to Overtime. If anyone could calm the storm that was Infinite, it was Overtime. This ability to calm spread to the other guardians. He was the one that separated squabbles or forced the others to settle down. In turn, the others seemed to respect Overtime the most. Sukuna had even respected the volcanic mummy after engaging him in battle. Despite never seeing him fight, Overtime attacked like a seasoned warrior. His wrapping would lengthen at his request and would be shot out at Sukuna. Despite looking like cloth, Overtime could make his wrapping become as sharp as a blade when in combat. He hit with ferocious strength, speed, and accuracy. When hit by his ratio technique, Sukuna could feel the weak spot being forced to form on his body. When wanting to deliver a stronger attack, Overtime would use his wrappings to form a blunt sword. Each swing carried great power that shook the ground below. Although, if Overtime thought the battle was dragging on for too long, he would stop and go to the nearest secluded area.

Chimera was the second most frequent attacker. It was obvious as to why, considering the person Chimera originated from. Sukuna had always seen the great potential in Fushiguro Megumi. As a cursed soul, the fragments of the ten-shadows user could still be seen within the dark creature. Without any morals to hold him back, Chimera attacked with total abandon. He would summon armies of frogs just to see how much he could overwhelm Sukuna. He would mix up his strategies each time they fought. Chimera enjoyed seeing Sukuna caught off guard and made it his job to startle the curse at any given moment. When Sukuna tried to rest, usually because there was nothing else to do, Chimera often manifested out of the shadows to summon a pool of darkness underneath the curse. The only touch of color Chimera had were his green eyelights. The light would shift into the form of the shikigami Chimera was summoning. Despite the disadvantage it gave Chimera, the shadow monster did not give Sukuna a chance to prepare for the oncoming shikigami. Chimera was perfectly capable of fighting without the help of his shikigami. The fact that Chimera did not need to keep his hands free to maintain his technique, Chimera had no problems barraging Sukuna with blows and strikes. Besides his shikigami, Chimera could summon a pair of tonfas, a sword, and a blade. Each was made of the goopy material that Chimera himself was made of, but it did not take away from the sharpness of the weapons. It was exhilarating to battle Chimera. Sukuna could fight the cursed soul for hours with no victor in sight. The way that their battles usually ended was when Overtime physically dragged Chimera from the area. The mummy would use the magma burning inside the left side of his body to force the shadow creature into giving up.

Infinite, as always, took great care in being as infuriating as possible. While fighting the others was exciting and invigorating, fighting Infinite was more akin to torture. Both Infinite and Sukuna were equal in physical strength and speed, but Infinite had a new advantage that the sorcerer he was based on never had. Gojo Satoru’s Infinite Void was a domain that overloaded the victim with so much information that they were struck frozen and vulnerable. Sukuna remembered the overwhelming sensation well during their fight. However, Infinite used this ability to overload an opponent with information much differently. If Sukuna made eye contact with Infinite, the creature was capable of plaguing the curse with violent hallucinations. If Sukuna made eye contact with the eyes on Infinite’s tail when it was fully spread, the hallucinations given were so vivid that Sukuna would think his real body had been attacked. Infinite could construct the hallucinations he caused to his liking. In other words, Infinite personally created the most horrific images to infect Sukuna’s mind. The hallucinations always contained Yuuji in some way since Infinite wanted to make Sukuna suffer. The need to make Sukuna hurt was an instinct engraved deeply in the feather dragon. It pushed the cursed soul to attack Sukuna the most. He did not give Sukuna hallucinations every time they fought, unknowingly preventing Sukuna from preparing his mind for the onslaught of horror. Most of Infinite’s attacks were petty in nature and meant to annoy Sukuna. Infinite would use his smoky tail to wip Sukuna across the face or use the eyes within to stalk the man. His beak would be used to deliver quick pecks to every inch of exposed skin. There were more than twenty times where Infinite dragged a rabid animal with his claws to throw it at Sukuna. Other times, Infinite would screech loudly when Sukuna tried to nap, not stopping until one of his fellow guardians forced him to. The only proof that Infinite had the capability to be anything but insane was when he interacted with the other guardians. He showed great affection towards Overtime, Chimera, and Resonance. The other two did not appreciate the dragon’s touchiness whatsoever, so Infinite begrudgingly let them be. Though, the bird would still try to mess with them from time to time. Infinite seemed to take pride in how irritating he was.

Eventually, the exhilarating battles and spars grew old. Sukuna had allowed himself to fight each cursed soul as long as he could. He knew he could end the battles in moments, but the curse had been desperate for something to do. Infinite was the only one whose battles Sukuna never tried to drag on. The thrill Sukuna had felt vanished. It seemed the group of cursed souls noticed as their attacks stopped. One day, it became too much for even Sukuna to bear. He turned to the six creatures and spoke with exhaustion clear in his tone.

“I cannot wait another million years like this. It’s mind numbingly boring, and I am sick of such monotony. I am going to rest for as long as I can. Do whatever you wish, I don’t care. Ideally, I do not want to wake up unless it’s finally the Heian Era. Do not bother me until then if you wish to keep your heads.”

Thankfully, the world would give the sleep Sukuna had wished for. The only memories he had of his self-induced hibernation was the smell of smoke in the air, then sudden feeling of everything being ice cold, and the occasional noises from the six creatures who would periodically check on the massive curse. Sukuna did not dream the entire time. It felt like he closed his eyes, got stuck in a void that had no light, noise, smell, or surface, then woke up to a screeching bird.

Sukuna had to listen to the loud squawks until his muddled mind regained its sharpness. Once awake enough, Infinite dragged Sukuna out of the cave he did not remember falling asleep in. Outside of the cave, the other guardians were waiting with excitement clear in their features. When he looked around the place the cave was situated in, he felt a wave of familiarity wash over him. The villages nearby were identical to the ones Sukuna remembered of the Heian Era. More importantly, the cursed energy he senses indicated the birth of sorcerers and curses. Instead of getting to familiarize himself with ancient Japan again, Infinite grabbed Sukuna and tossed him onto his back. Before Sukuna could react, the dragon leaped into the sky with great speed. Like the prior blindfolded maniac, Infinite was able to float. Infinite had grown to his full size, allowing his fellow guardians to fit on his body. Boogie and Supernova were clinging desperately to Infinite’s long neck while Resonance and Overtime were tightly gripping Infinite’s white mane like the reins of a horse. Chimera had simply hidden himself within Sukuna’s shadow. It had happened so fast that it took Sukuna a few minutes to realize what had happened. Eventually, Sukuna began to watch the clouds fly past them. The air was thin, but it was crisp and fresh. It ended much too quickly in Sukuna’s opinion, but Sukuna was immediately distracted by the familiar village they were heading towards.

It was Sukuna’s village when he was a human.

Infinite landed in an empty field to prevent anyone from seeing the cursed souls. Unlike regular curses, cursed souls could be seen by all. At the time, this was unknown to Sukuna as he only knew that animals could see the guardians.

Based on the insistent nudges Infinite was giving Sukuna, the curse knew that something crucial was about to happen. He adorned a stern expression and arrived at the village in the blink of an eye. It was obvious when he was due to the stench of death and sickness in the air. Sukuna walked through his village, looking for his human counterpart. The human that had become Sukuna was long gone in an erased world. The Ryomen of this world was about to reach his point of no return if Sukuna did not act quickly.

It was easy to find Ryomen. No one had ever looked like them with their pink hair, but Ryomen stuck out even more with the tattoos etched onto his skin. That was new, but Sukuna did not dwell on it as he reached the scene that broke Ryomen unfold. It was almost pathetic to see his former self kneeling in the dirt as he begged the village elders and healers to help his boy. The sight of a lifeless Yuuji made Sukuna feel sick. Seeing a child version of the boy he had hurt was horrible, but it was even worse considering the evidence that the child had been dead for at least several days. Ryomen continued his begging like a madman. His grief was so great that Ryomen had become delusional. Sukuna watched silently as the villagers surrounded the suffering young man.

“TAKE THAT INFECTED CORPSE OUT OF THE VILLAGE THIS INSTANT, RYOMEN!”

“THERE IS A PLAGUE. WE DON’T NEED YOUR ROTTEN CHILD MAKING IT WORSE!”

“WE SHOULD GET RID OF BOTH OF THEM. RYOMEN HAS ALWAYS BEEN A BAD OMEN WITH THOSE MARKINGS!”

“WE SHOULD GET THE JUJUTSU SORCERERS TO EXORCIZE HIM! HE’S CLEARLY NOT A HUMAN! WE WERE FOOLISH TO EVER BELIEVE HE WAS!”

“CURSE!”

“DEMON!”

“MONSTER!”

The crowd quickly turned into a riot of angry villagers too paranoid to see the clearly human man sobbing for help. The Ryomen from Sukuna’s old world was never treated this badly, nor was he so dangerously thin. Then again, this Ryomen had tattoos that old Ryomen never had. Such a supposedly insignificant addition must have caused the young man’s life to become worse than ever before. Sukuna could not interact with any of the humans, so he continued to wait patiently until Ryomen’s cursed energy reached its peak. It had been steadily increasing with each new insult from the villagers.

All it took was a small torch to make Ryomen snap.

A man had thrown a lit torch at Ryomen in an attempt to rid the village of the infectious corpse and the black sheep of the village. In an instant, the rags both Ryomen and Yuuji wore caught on fire. Cruel, sick smiles were present on the elders of the village as screams of agony erupted from the grieving father. With Ryomen set aflame, one of the healers grabbed Yuuji and ran to throw the child into the mass grave pit.

Before the healer could get very far, maniacal laughter made her stop in her tracks. Despite his flesh peeling off and blistering, Ryomen began walking to the healer. It was a gruesome sight. Some of the villagers were already throwing up at the sight and smell of Ryomen’s burning flesh. Sukuna was amazed by the man’s ability to remain standing.

Even though Ryomen could not speak anymore or really see, he smiled wide with bloody cracked lips. The aura of his cursed energy grew potent enough that all the villagers, no matter how old, were left trembling and unable to move. Ryomen raised his arms, seemingly ignoring the layers of skin being burnt off, and mimicked how one would draw a bow and arrow. Sukuna recognized the motion and grinned. The flesh on his hands and fingers were nothing but blood and muscle, but the squares on each fingertip had remained, even without the layer of skin. With gums bleeding and skin peeling, Ryomen spoke with a broken voice.

“F u g a.”

An arrow made out of fire formed between his burning hands, but Ryomen did not waver once. The villagers were still paralyzed in terror as the arrow grew bigger. A myriad of colors could be seen within the flames, it was a beautiful sight. That was until Ryomen released the arrow aimed directly at the healer who had stolen Yuuji.

In less than a second a once thriving village had been reduced to nothing but ash. The charred corpses of the villagers were unrecognizable and the smell was unbearable. Sukuna stood among the destruction, simply admiring Ryomen’s power. His pleased observations were overtaken when the wail of a tortured man filled the air.

This bastard better not be dead. Sukuna ran towards the noise and easily found the source of the cries. Blood pooled from every orifice and inch of Ryomen’s burnt skin. However, the wails were not caused by pain but grief as Ryomen knelt by the incinerated remains of his son. The fire had been so strong that the boy was nothing but bones and ash. Sukuna looked at the horrific sight with an intense sadness he had never felt before. Without a word, the massive curse knelt next to Ryomen and placed a hand on his back. Unlike every other living being he had encountered, Sukuna’s hand did not pass through upon contact. Ryomen jolted at the unexpected touch, his grief-filled screams stopping.

“Your son is going to be okay. I promise.” Sukuna spoke softly at the man, not reacting to the gore underneath his palm. The curse let his reverse cursed technique flow through Ryomen. His skin began to stitch back together, and his bleeding stopped entirely. Considering the extent of the damage to Ryomen, Sukuna took extra care when healing him. Most of his nerve endings had been fried, so Sukuna focused immensely on fixing them without error. After some time of meticulous healing, the only proof that Ryomen had been hurt was the ash on his face and body and the bloodstains.

Ryomen passed out immediately upon becoming fully healed, collapsing against Sukuna. Again, Sukuna’s body remained solid against his human counterpart. Sukuna reached out another hand to scoop up one of the charred bones that had once belonged to a lovable boy. Sukuna felt pain in his chest again, but he refused to break. With even greater care than before, the monstrous being poured as much of his reversed cursed technique into the tiny bone. Eventually, the cracks on the bone disappeared and it regained its ivory color.

Without looking up, Sukuna already knew that the guardians had arrived. They had perfect timing as always. When a beak gently nudged the hand that had Yuuji’s bone fragment, Sukuna raised his gaze.

For the first time, the blindfold that was supposed to be permanently attached to Infinite had disappeared. Six eyes, a pair of three on each side, looked at him imploringly. There was no cheekiness or teasing to be found in Infinite’s gaze. Sukuna nearly refused to give Infinite the last piece of Yuuji, but he then remembered the purpose of the guardians. It was in the name, they protected Yuuji in every sense of the word. He knew how much the people the cursed souls were based on loved Yuuji. They would never wish any harm on the boy. With a great sigh, Sukuna opened his palm to reveal the bone shard. Infinite cooed at the tiny piece and delicately picked up the fragment with his beak. When Infinite turned to walk towards his other guardians, he paused and looked back at Sukuna. There was gratefulness in those eyes and Infinite bowed his head in thanks.

Sukuna would never see the guardians again after that.

It did not matter as he had a new person to focus on. Ryomen would be Sukuna’s proper vessel, but the curse would make sure that the human would stay alive no matter what. He knew in his soul that Yuuji and his guardians would come back, so the boy would need Ryomen. Yuuji needed his father and Ryomen needed his son.

As Sukuna sat in the remains of the village, he made a binding vow with himself that he would never fail the two people who would become his most precious treasures.

Things would be different.

Things would be happier.

Present Time

“Sukuna.”

“Suuuukuuunaaaa!”

“Dumbass!”

“Fuckface!”

“Uh…Suku?”

In an instant, Sukuna grabbed at the hand poking him and twisted. Ryomen yelped in pain and wrenched his arm from Sukuna’s grip. “I told you to never use that infernal nickname.”

“Well, it woke you up, right?”

A grumble was the only response Sukuna gave. He opened his eyes that he hadn’t realized he closed and was surprised when he saw a sunny sky and fluffy clouds. Sukuna glanced at his left, where Ryomen had been poking him, and guffawed at the outfit the baby in his arms was wearing. Ryomen held Yuuji like the lion cub from the movie Ryomen forced him to watch a few months ago. He looked extremely proud of himself, and Yuuji squealed as his father raised him high in the air.

The baby was wearing a tiger onesie with detachable paws and ears on the hood of the outfit. Yuuji giggled like a hyena as Ryomen bounced him. “He’s finally in his true form.” Ryomen chuckled to himself as he looked at his adorable tiger cub. It was a slightly delirious laugh, and Sukuna saw the reason as to why. The usual bags under Ryomen’s eyes had darkened so much it looked like a bruise. Ryomen desperately needed to sleep, and Sukuna had just woken up from an accidental nap.

Sukuna sighed and raised his two upper arms towards Yuuji. “Give him to me, idiot. You are going to blackout any second now, and I do not wish for Yuuji to sustain an injury so soon after acquiring him.”

There were still many issues to talk about, especially the concerning message Ryomen received, but his sleep deprivation caught the best of him. When Ryomen was about to refuse, his vision started to blur, and he knew it was his body screaming at him to rest. “Fine. Wake me in ten minutes. I’ll make this a test for you.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious. Once I come back, there better not be a single hair misplaced on Yuuji’s head.”

“Alright.”

“If there is even a-”

“Ryomen. Go. To. Bed.”

“...Ten minutes.” The pink haired man gave one last glare to Sukuna before walking back towards the house. However, his walk was more of a stagger.

Sukuna rolled his eyes at the stubborn man’s antics. The tiny baby in his lap made any irritation the curse would have felt disappear. Yuuji held one of Sukuna’s fingers with a curious expression. He looked so impossibly small compared to Sukuna. Yuuji’s hands could not even wrap around Sukuna’s finger. Despite the size difference, Yuuji showed not a hint of fear towards the curse. His bright, wide eyes looked at Sukuna with so much happiness. No being had ever looked at Sukuna like that. A warmth blossomed in Sukuna’s chest at the smile Yuuji was giving him. This time, Sukuna relished in the warmth instead of suppressing it.

With great care, Sukuna picked up Yuuji and stood. The baby was small enough to fit in Sukuna’s palm, but there was still no fear from Yuuji. Sukuna breathed in the fresh air. For a moment, he was worried that his form would dissipate, but Yuuji’s presence only strengthened Sukuna’s ability to remain tangible. He couldn’t help but nuzzle his nose into Yuuji’s hair, dislodging the hoodie. Yuuji grabbed at Sukuna’s nose with his chubby hand, and the warmth within the curse grew like a welcoming hearth. The happiness Sukuna felt could not compare to his past life. Doing what he desired and killing who he wanted had never brought Sukuna such a feeling of warmness and joy.

Sukuna’s smile was the brightest it had ever been. He let out a content hum as he held Yuuji close to his chest. The baby responded to his hums with happy coos.

He was happy.

No matter what, Sukuna would make sure that the smile on Yuuji’s face never disappears again.

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