#trees cursed images

[an-albino-pinetree]

Cursed Carnival

@sm-baby

[pegafin]

Over the River and Through the Woods

A special AI generated Thanksgiving home

Are you a grandma looking for the perfect house for the whole family? Give them a Thanksgiving over the river and through the woods, in this charming new-build from a bygone era! Enjoy acres of woodland property with picturesque wildlife, including pumpkins and wild hand-turkeys. 9 bed, 6 bath, original linoleum flooring.

Quaint veranda foyer with attic.

Front Hall

Cozy den with microwave-TV (left), and meat & eggs parlor (right)

Fully enclosed sunroom

Formal sitting-kitchen

Intimate dining room with meat and whipped cream light fixtures.

Auxiliary dining room

Back side hall Bedrooms for all the grandkids! 🤩

Sumptuous bedrooms for all the grown-up relatives!

This room has a Thanksgiving hadrosaur, and a mistletoe fixture 😘

...Even a room for your least favorite in-laws!

And now 🥁 the rooms where all Thanksgivings finish: 🚽The Bathrooms!🛁

Old people know exactly what that bathroom fixture with the red trim on the right is! 😎 …Amiright, old people? 🤔

Who remembers these bathing fixures, from back in the day? ✨Very unique and timeless finds for any collector!✨

Charming powder-mud-room

Updated master bath, with nesting swags for wild backyard birds!

🥚 🎄Call now to book your tour today!!! 🦃🥚 ☎️ ☎️ ☎️

Behind the Scenes:

[nugulover69]

What a colorful bunch of animal friends! I sure hope nothing horrific happens to them! :)

[john-gosh-darnielle]

all smiles, all smiles

[eggnogs-tree]

What is better, that’s what she said jokes or your mom jokes?

[marble-trees]

Last one I swear. Also fun fact IM A LIAR

*gasp* l i e s-

[fantasmadelaciudad]

forever thinking of that fic where bill curses the pines twins and causes mabel to start turning into a literal shooting star and dipper to start turning into a pine tree…

[a-neurodivergent-blog]

Image ID: A motivational text image. The text is on a background picture consisting of a stone wall at the corner that overlooks forested hills. The text itself reads, in all caps: "Chronic pains means you have more physical pain In one week than most people do in years... You are brave, strong and fucking badass. No exceptions." The text color is white and the letters are outlined slightly. End Image ID

[an-albino-pinetree]

I drew some monsters into cursed images, that my urban exploring friend sent me, as a warm up -v- ✨

[kalisbaby]

“From the River to the Sea.” A Poem by Samer Abu Hawwash, translated by Huda Fakhreddine

every street, every house, every room, every window, every balcony, every wall, every stone, every sorrow, every word, every letter, every whisper, every touch, every glance, every kiss, every tree, every spear of grass, every tear, every scream, every air, every hope, every supplication, every secret, every well, every prayer, every song, every ballad, every book, every paper, every color, every ray, every cloud, every rain, every drop of rain, every drip of sweat, every lisp, every stutter, every yamma, mother, every yaba, father, every shadow, every light, every little hand that drew in a little notebook a tree or house or heart or a family of a father, a mother, siblings, and pets, every longing, every possibility, every letter between two lovers that arrived or didn’t arrive, every gasp of love dispersed in the distant clouds, every moment of despair at every turn, every suitcase on top of

every closet, every library, every shelf, every minaret, every rug, every bell toll in every church, every rosary, every holy praise, every arrival, every goodbye, every Good Morning, every Thank God, every ‘ala rasi, my pleasure, every hill ‘an sama’i, leave me alone, every rock, every wave, every grain of sand, every hair-do, every mirror, every glance in every mirror, every cat, every meow, every happy donkey, every sad donkey’s gaze, every pot, every vapor rising from every pot, every scent, every bowl, every school queue, every school shoes, every ring of the bell, every blackboard, every piece of chalk, every school costume, every mabruk ma ijakum, congratulations on the baby, every y ‘awid bi-salamtak, condolences, every ‘ayn al- ḥasud tibla bil-‘ama, may the envious be blinded, every photograph, every person in every photograph, every niyyalak, how lucky, every ishta’nalak, we’ve missed you, every grain of wheat in every bird’s gullet, every lock of hair, every hair knot, every hand, every foot, every football, every finger, every nail, every bicycle, every rider on every bicycle, every turn of air fanning from every bicycle, every bad joke, every mean joke, every laugh, every smile, every curse, every yearning, every fight, every sitti, grandma, every

sidi, grandpa, every meadow, every flower, every tree, every grove, every olive, every orange, every plastic rose covered with dust on an abandoned counter, every portrait of a martyr hanging on a wall since forever, every gravestone, every sura, every verse, every hymn, every ḥajj mabrur wa sa ‘yy mashkur, may your ḥajj and effort be rewarded, every yalla tnam yalla tnam, every lullaby, every red teddy bear on every Valentine’s, every clothesline, every hot skirt, every joyful dress, every torn trousers, every days-spun sweater, every button, every nail, every song, every ballad, every mirror, every peg, every bench, every shelf, every dream, every illusion, every hope, every disappointment, every hand holding another hand, every hand alone, every scattered thought, every beautiful thought, every terrifying thought, every whisper, every touch, every street, every house, every room, every balcony, every eye, every tear, every word, every letter, every name, every voice, every name, every house, every name, every face, every name, every cloud, every name, every rose, every name, every spear of grass, every name, every wave, every grain of sand, every street, every kiss, every image, every eye, every tear, every yamma, every yaba, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, all…

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ KINICH: ❝ HEAVEN CAN WAIT. ❞

pairing: kinich x afab!reader (uses she/her) synopsis: during the invasion of the abyss, the bond between you and kinich is put to the test when you're both lost in the chaos searching for eachother, as he fulfills his sacred duty as one of the heroes of Natlan. warnings: spoilers of the 5.1 archon quests! lots of bodily injury + descriptions of gore, the war ingame is described in a darker way here, cursing, many mentions of death. wordcount: 5.4k cho’s notes: PLS SRSLY LISTEN TO THE INJURY WARNING!! i might be a little dramatic but theres an injury here that made me geek when i was writing it idk. this is basically 5.4k words of me pretending to understand the mechanics of the ode of resurrection 😭 i was inspired to write this after playing the 5.1 aq! hope u guys enjoy this, happy reads <3

taglist: @sillywinnertidalwave

Today marked the exact moment the people of Natlan realized that the abyss weren’t just these noisy hilichurls you see camping in the meadows or the occasional mages you’d encounter in the caves; The Abyss was a ruthless cult of monsters with their uniform goal of bringing humanity to its demise.

‘It was never supposed to get this bad.’ was the only thought racing through Kinich's mind as he swung from cliffs to trees as fast as he could, the muscles in his arms feeling like they could rip apart if he swung one more time, his head slightly burning with exhaustion and heart racing with overwhelming pressure.

People were getting massacred on the ground underneath him, as numerous warriors and guards pushed themselves beyond their limit to fend off the neverending wave of rifthounds and hilichurls coming from the illuminating pylons—and he couldn’t do anything about it. Not when everyone and everything needed his aid, all at once.

But Kinich had someone to come home to, and it was you.

The last moment of peace the both of you had together was just earlier today; Sipping coffee and eating fruit together, discussing light subjects to try and distract each other from the rising attacks of the abyss, totally oblivious to the fact that Natlan would be dragged into war by them hours later. 

He felt like it was just a minute ago when you sat in front of him, and glowed under the sunlight, slicing apples intricately as your lips spilled words. ‘How could this happen?’ he thought.

The image of you smiling, your face full of faith pulsed in his mind, making his stomach twist when his eyes landed on the village of the Scions of the Canopy; it was on the brink of ruin.

Caravans and carts were being ripped open with the goods spilling onto the ground only to be squashed, children getting dragged by desperate parents, greedy businessmen clawing at their money hoping it would save them, and the scattered limp bodies of innocent natlanese. The sky loomed over everyone’s heads in an eerie color, only amplifying the hopelessness he rarely felt in his chest. The scent of blood and burning ash filled his nostrils the second he violently landed onto the oversized canopy, mildly hurting his ankles in the process.

“Y/n? Y/n!” He called out among the frenzy, his eyes darting to every face he could spot. He got on his heel and started running— desperate that you wouldn’t appear as one of the bodies that were left to rot on the ground. 

He raced to your house, and tried to push the door open with no luck. He had no time to care for it, and just slashed through it with his bulky claymore and bursted into the room, his eyebrows knitted together, pupils dilated, cold sweat on his nape. His eyes don’t spot you in your usual leisure spot of your common room, making his heart drop. He checked all other rooms, and finally opened your bedroom:

You weren’t there.

You weren’t anywhere.

His heart hurt with every beat, and he desperately clawed at his chest trying to get back his calm composure he was always known for. But what for?

“Just give it up, that peasant probably turned into abyss food long before you even got here. Stop wasting your time, my time!” Ajaw suddenly hissed out, his words filling kinich’s mind with poison.

Imaginations of your body growing limp and cold, face turning blue, and blood oozing out from some part of your body as rifthounds dug through your flesh flashed through his head. And he tried to stop it. But with the spinning of his head and the lifelessness of your house that was once so full with your laughter, it just kept getting worse.

He stood with a lowered head, his hand gripping his claymore so tight his knuckles turned white. He fought back tears as his mind danced like a kaleidoscope. To him, there would be no use in saving Natlan, if you weren’t in the picture.

He was supposed to not let his will in defeating the abyss sway at all, you wouldn’t want that. No one would want that. He doesn’t either. But now faced with the odds that you might not be able to experience a Natlan that is finally free from centuries of prejudice, after you’ve been by his side telling him to have faith that the day will come, and the dreams you want to accomplish when everything is finally okay— It seemed unfair. SO unfair.

He whispers to himself, or rather to anything who was willing to listen, with a shaky voice: “If only one wish of mine can be granted for my whole lifetime, please.. Keep her safe. That’s all I ask.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The clashing of weapons against the shelled skin of the abyss monsters zipped through the air, as you swiftly dodged the claws of a relentless rifthound; you’ve been doing this for hours now.

You were helping your tribe, the Scions of the Canopy, strengthen its defenses before the outbreak until you were called by a messenger to help strengthen defenses of an adventurer’s base southeast of the village as it was being easily overwhelmed by the enemies. As the head of preparing defenses from the village, you happily obliged.

But now you were almost hours into battle, with your body aching in all different spots, as you tried your best to continue evading the insistent attacks of numerous monsters. You couldn’t find the energy to swing your sword with maximum strength anymore, so all you could muster up was to dodge them.

“Fuck! Will you ever quit!?” you yell, before pushing yourself beyond your limits again, attacking with frustration. You slashed through the tough skin of the rifthound with your dendro-infused blade, making it dissipate into purple smoke with a screeching growl before fading into the air.

You had a second for a breather and  took a deep breath, which you regretted immediately. “ugh!” you cried, falling to your knees, grabbing your side. You recall the moment you heard something snap when a hilichurl swung its wooden baton at your side when you were busy confronting a different monster. You broke your rib, and it was now piercing your lung.

You stared into the dirt, forehead collecting sweat. You took your hand off of your side, seeing blood paint your palm a deep scarlet. You touched your forehead, and brought your hand back to your eyes— You were bleeding. everywhere.

Your eyes sting with tears, the reality of the situation slowly setting into your head— The chances of you leaving this battlefield alive was slim. Your teeth press against your bottom lip tightly, the pain being incomparable to the injuries you’ve sustained. 

‘I’m sorry kinich.’ echoed in your mind. Kinich had been training you recently, for you to be ready in case of an invasion and he wasn’t there to protect you. But here you are, head-first onto the ground, realizing you’ll probably die in the next few minutes.

‘I’m sorry kinich.. I’m not built for this.’ you whimpered, tears slowly trickling down your face. You felt so heavy with hopelessness, you felt like you could start sinking into the solid dirt beneath your body.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You were only supposed to continue helping people fend off the abyss for a few more days, until the Pyro Archon solved the crisis. And after she did, you would’ve explored places outside of Natlan with Kinich. Sumeru was the first region you both agreed to visit; It was always a dream that you shared together to travel all of Teyvat one day. Hell, you even had a hunch he’d propose to you somewhere down the line of your voyage. 

So why are you kneeling on the floor, bleeding from every possible corner of your body, accepting your demise as your comrades slowly thin in number?

‘How long do I have to keep this up? I feel like if I swing my sword one more time, my arms will come flying off. I can’t do it anymore. This is something only strong people can do. Strong people like kinich. I can’t. I just can’t. I ca-’

Woosh!, Your ears picked up the sound and you jumped to your feet, barely escaping the blade of an enormous mitachurl that almost claimed your head. 

You tumbled lightly onto the ground, before you hold your sword up again with both your hands, your limbs trembling hopelessly in the gaze of the towering monster over you with demonic horns. You almost drop your blade and just let it kill you right then and there. 

But kinich appeared in your thoughts.

The mitachurl was standing the way the dummy kinich built for you was. Kinich’s voice instructing you rippled in your thoughts: “swing your sword down to the left, diagonal to the body. Then, slice up to the right, also diagonally. For the final blow, strike straight down the crown of its head, taking force from your shoulders. ”

You listen to kinich on repeat a few times, drawing imaginary lines on the body of the scowling mitachurl that stomped closer to you. You gulped the lump in your throat, before you did exactly what kinich taught you.

You twist your body with your edge in the air, taking a (painful) deep breath before swinging your blade to the left in a declining path. The mitachurl stumbles back at your sudden strike making an mmgh! sound, breaking down some of its armor. You quickly slice back up in the opposite direction before it could react any further. Your shoulder burned with every twist, but you had to keep going.

As it stumbled one more time, You bring your weapon above your head, and ignite it with dendro, causing a deep green aura to emit from your person. You meet eyes with the monster; It looked horrified. You stood there ready to take its life, appearing like a monster yourself with the blood that dripped down your head, your eyes seething with revenge.

You spare no more time before completely slicing straight down its head with maximum precision. A loud growl slowly faded with the noise, just as its body did, turning into a dark smoke. 

“If my life is going to end with this battle, then please grant my final wish—” You whispered, looking at your blood-stained hands, hoping the heavenly principles could hear your wish among the deafening sound of war:

“—Please.. Keep kinich safe for me.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The people seeking refuge in a temporary hideout turn their heads at the noise of their beloved heroes walking into the space. ‘Baraka’ Xilonen, ‘Umoja’ Mualani, ‘Uwezo’ Iansan, ‘Bidii’ Ororon, and ‘Vuka’ Chasca. There was only one more hero missing.. ‘Malipo’ Kinich.

Kinich had just rounded up civilians he saved from the village, and brought them there for safety. His gaze met with his friends, before he carefully placed a baby he was protecting into the arms of its mother— The baby had your eyes, which gravitated him into holding it just a little longer. He walked over to them with heavy steps, still trying to keep his composure despite the pain weaving his insides; just like them. 

“It’s the final phase of mavuika’s plan. We have to get back to the stadium, and help her with the Ode of Resurrection.” Xilonen says. “Can you do it?”��

It’s not like he had any other choice so he just nodded, not being able to muster up the strength to talk.

“Kinich.. Did something happen?” Mualani asked, taking notice of his silence as she placed her hand on his shoulder in support. It was clear she was just as broken down as he was, covered in bruises and scratches. But she continued to stay strong and pulled an empathetic look for him, trying to get his lowered eyes to meet hers.

“I.. couldn’t find y/n.” Kinich barely mumbled, the dread he felt earlier coming back to him, feeling like it only got worse verbalizing it. His eyes stuck to the ground, refusing to peel away.

The five heroes suddenly feel the air grow thick, a gasp leaving Iansan and Mualani's lips. This reaction only made the feeling worse, his fingertips digging into his palm. ‘Why does it have to turn out like this? I don’t fucking get it. It’s unfair. Not fair. Not fair to me, to her.’

The five struggled to find words to say, but ajaw quickly filled the space, spitting out: “Fear not lowly humans! For when Kinich finally slips in this final fight and accidentally ends up kicking the bucket, I, the almighty dragonlord, k’uhul ajaw! Will reign over this world once more! And the abyss will no longer be the biggest threat Natlan has faced!” The 8-bit monster laughed proudly with its jagged voice.

Kinich suddenly snapped at the puny dragon: “Zip it ajaw. Let’s go.” before stepping out of the hideout. The heroes gave each other glances, before silently following after him. They weren’t scared of kinich releasing ajaw, they knew kinich would never do that to them. But it was him they were worried about.

Kinich never handled loss well. It often resulted in.. Accidents. Towards himself.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You continued to fight your way to survival, the dendro vision hanging by your hip flashing every few seconds. You shifted your focus to destroy nearby pylons. Your hands had bruised, and slowly became callused and firm. The amount of blood loss you’ve endured has slowly started affecting you too, as your actions started getting sloppier, following your sight getting hazy from time to time.

‘Ching!’ You sliced through the last mitachurl around— atleast, last one before another one spawns—and fell to your battered knees. You sat there, gasping, your body begging for air. 

“Y/n!” a fellow comrade called out, rushing to your side. You can hear him mumbling something to you, but it’s incoherent. You looked at your dirty, bloodied hands, ‘what an ugly sight.’  

“Just.. keep pushing on y/n.” his words sound muffled to you and almost accompanied with sand; he’s losing hope too. 

Without warning, a bright beam of light suddenly shot up into the air, emerging from somewhere in the distance.

‘Huh?’ You look up.

The ray of light exploded into a star, making you wince at the glare. The explosion was so grand, you felt the earth tremble all around you, and even felt a slight radiance of heat reach your skin, even when it was suspended so close to the stars.

The warriors and monsters’ brawl comes to a pause, all beings turning their heads to the magic unfolding above their heads.

You look back up once more. It’s the Pyro Archon.

“In the name of the Pyro Archon, Haborym,” the transcendent voice sends chills down your spine.

“I declare the Night Warden Wars underway—”

“—The Ode of Resurrection will guard all life, until the war is over!”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich might’ve lost his mind.

With the Ode of Resurrection, there was nothing in his way to contain the blood rushing through his veins anymore, the flame pumping his drive. There was no limit to the blood he could pour, no limit to the bones he could snap, no limit to the wounds he could take; There was no more life that kept him from death, and no death to threaten him to life. 

He shot himself through the trees and cliffs and plunged into the ground, slashing right into an abyssal pylon, immediately shattering it into pieces. The abyss that caught sight of his unhinged eyes,  became the last thing they saw. He swung his blade relentlessly, calculated with maximum precision embedded into every strike. Every blow he landed would end a life point-blank, not wasting a single movement. No monster could keep up with the speed of his assault, their death delivered to them in a blur.

A hilichurl had taken an open opportunity to stab him right through the heart from behind. He felt the flame inside him flicker for a second.

‘Again.’

He ripped the double sided polearm right out of his chest, before skewering the same hilichurl right through its chest with the same weapon. A cryo mage quickly sent icicles to penetrate through his limbs and vital organs. He felt the coldness pierce into his insides, feeling the flame inside him flicker for a second time.

‘Again.’

He swiftly turned around, and spun his claymore right into the mage, beheading it in the process. The mage had evaporated to its death, as his claymore spun right back into his palm, snug as a glove. A hilichurl decided to charge into his tall figure and stab him with a dagger, puncturing his abdomen. His flame flickered for the third time.

‘Again.’

He sliced down on the hilichurl, making it dissipate into the air with a groan. He pulled out the dagger from his body and carelessly threw it onto the ground. Noticing the area was clear, he flung himself back into the air, swinging himself through the thick trees and long branches. They would momentarily graze his skin, cutting and wounding him but it was nothing to him, not anymore.

His void eyes scanned through the rocky terrain underneath his feet, searching for your figure. ‘You have to be here. Somewhere. Anywhere.’ His thoughts of you distracted him from an incoming tree, before flying straight into its tree branch, his body getting skewered in the process. He let out a loud cry of agony— “aaghh!”—, hearing static ringing in his ears. His bewildered eyes landed at exactly where he got impaled before feeling his head go fuzzy, his eyes slowly losing light, and his body going limp. He feels his flame flickering once more.

‘Again.’

Life is shot right back into him as he braced himself again, taking a deep breath, and pulling himself off of the tree branch. His injury immediately punished him, making him wince. He took one last look at the tree branch covered in his gore before swinging himself again. He looked at the gaping hole in his abdominal cavity slowly patch and fill itself again, and for a moment he’s completely mesmerized by the power of the ode of resurrection. 

In his mind, he punished himself for not being by your side, for not protecting you. And his mode of punishment would be feeling your misery over and over again. The sensation of burning pain ending up to his death just to wake up again completely alive again all in a split second was intoxicating. He was preserving life, as he toyed with his own. 

In his mind, he would rather die a million deaths than find out he’d be alive without you around.

“Listen to me bastard! I’m starting to appreciate this new thing you got going on, you know, like actually following your master, me, Almighty dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw! and using your vision for something exhilarating like ending lives. But I HATE! how i’m getting excited to take your body everytime you go floppy, but you just wake back up! It’s so ANNOYING!! So just keep it up until the fire-head woman turns the ode of what-ever-you-call-it off, and you stay dead. Alright!?”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Mavuika looked longingly onto her people fighting for their nation underneath her feet, as she levitated in the dark sky. It was a surreal simulation to her; It was her that was the catalyst for their dreams and hopes. It left a deep impression of justice, duty and pressure on her. 

Mavuika took a deep breath, before feeling a surging power slither all throughout her body.

‘This has to end, now.’

She collected all the dreams her people have relayed to her, the hopes for a future guided with justice and equality, their ancestors and their prayers for Natlan, the lives of her beloved followers who had been sacrificed and martyred, into her fist and made it into her strength. 

Her hair ignited into its flamed form, as she shot out all the might and glory of Natlan into a beam of radiance, targeting the abyssal body that was the sole cause of terror over her nation. 

The Celestial body forms a temporary glowing shield to stand its ground, until it doesn’t.

It slowly starts shattering like thin glass, making her attack on it only more powerful. Her thrash breaks through until it exploded into a dark fume, her light piercing right through it and into the distant sky. The sky carries the sound of the thundering explosion, shaking nature all around.

The black cloud slowly starts fading, revealing the eradication of the Abyss.

The black sky lifts off of Natlan, revealing the blue once more. You choked out the blood that’s been pouring in your mouth for the longest time as you finally finish off the last creature in sight. The Abyss had been eliminated by the Pyro Archon, and no more would spawn. Dulled and scratched swords, torn bows, and unfortunate martyrs polluted the grassy field around. The noise of battle could still be heard somewhere distant but not around you anymore. 

You spat and coughed out blood onto your palm, your other hand clawing and digging into your chest trying to calm your rampaging heartbeat. You heard your remaining comrades cry and yell out of grief and solace. The words they yelled were incoherent, only being able to hear ringing. 

But you could almost make out what they're saying, somewhere along the lines of: ‘It’s over.’

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich’s eyelids slowly peel open, feeling the heat of the sun greet his eyes immediately making him wince. He sits up and tries to gain back his senses, letting out a sore groan.

Ajaw perches up at the sound, and starts roaring in his ear: “You were supposed to be dead! I was so thrilled to finally take over your cold body, finally thinking of the horrors I'd run to this land, just to find our contract not working! Just bite the dust already you useless asparagus! Curse the archons!”

“Wh-what happened?” Kinich croaked, his throat stinging him in the process. Completely ignoring ajaw’s tantrum, he looks at the nature around him; There were dismantled weapons, a few dead bodies scattered meters apart, and an awful lot of silence. 

“The fire-head woman destroyed the abyss in the sky, and the magical thing happening to your body that stopped you from dying stopped, and you just crashed into the mountain side and passed out onto the ground. Your head should’ve caved in! Fucking imbecile!” 

Kinich stares at the state of his body; It was a disaster. His jacket was torn with all sorts of holes, his arms full of scars and dried blood and smeared dirt, his gloved hands having numerous rips and tears. All of his digits were present, but a huge scar trailed over the joints of his thumb. ‘So I lost a finger huh?’ he guessed to himself. He looks at his headband dangling around his neck, and feels his face with his hand. He felt a few scars and winces at a cut he had, realizing he had a gaping wound that was actively bleeding out.

Body intact, clothes and weapon secured, with his heart beating in his chest cavity.

But something was still missing. Something was out of place.

He feels his heart drop to the ground, mumbling: “Y/n.”

He hurriedly turns around and tries to run on his feet, a sharp pain kicking into his legs making him fall back onto the soil. He curls into a ball, suddenly feeling all his muscles tormenting his body at once. He groans in pain, feeling parts of his body ache and burn under his skin.

“Yes! Perish!” Ajaw shrieks, making kinich swat at him. He takes a cramped breath— almost like the capacity of his lungs had shrunk— before digging his hands into the sharp blades of grass, dragging his body through the earth.

Each pull of his body made him wish he wasn’t human, pain electrocuting each living cell in his body. Grunts slipped through his teeth, as he tried not to notice the torture he had been enduring for what has felt like forever. He despised the pain he could feel as he crawled not because it hurt him, but because it was proof he was alive and could use his senses. That would remind him that you might not be, only making the weight of his chest heavier.

Red from his wound dripped down his head and slipped onto his lip, making him spit it out bitterly. 

The silvery of blood was inferior to the bitterness in his mouth if he felt your body without its heart beating against his own. Ajaw slowly follows him in the air a meter away, and is almost horrified. Ajaw that day, saw humanity in its most desperate state.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Let me go!” You yelled, trying to break free from the arms of the other scions of the canopy. They had tried convincing you to go to the village and get your injuries treated, but they mentioned kinich was missing. You heard glass shattering in your ears, almost reality to your eyes breaking just the same. You escaped their captive and tried to find kinich, but they had caught up to you easily.

“You don’t understand! You might die out of blood loss before you even find him!” Said one of the nurses, gripping your wrist tightly. “I have to try!” You snapped, shoving and kicking at the men trying to get a holding of your legs.

“And what if kinich is dead y/n!?” A man retorted, making you freeze in your spot. Words got stuck in your throat, as your eyes blurred for a second. “Kinich would never.. be..” you feel your tongue stiffen, your knees slowly sinking back onto the grass. The men among the helpers quietly argue behind you, scolding each other with ‘don’t say that!’ as your thoughts slowly dim your spirit.

‘Kinich? Dead?’ the thought of kinich dying seemed so far and impossible to you. It was always kinich who seemed to prevent harm from going your way, and knew how to deal with injuries or how to get out of risky situations. But not even the strongest warriors of Natan's ancient tales survived against the toughest attacks of the abyss. You feel like vomiting, the imagination of kinich mangled body suddenly tormenting your thoughts. ‘I still have to try’, you interrupted yourself, reminiscing the oath you took between the both of you to never abandon his side, dead or alive.

You quickly try to pounce off of them, but they're quicker into getting ahold of you again. You try your hardest to tear through their grasp, feeling your skin ache as they tighten their hand around you.

“Please! Just let me try!” you cry out, almost freeing yourself. They object in volumes, a series of ‘No!’s and ‘You need to rest!’ leaving their mouths. You almost feel helpless, but the group of five freeze all together, out of nowhere.

Their eyes are wide, dilated. Their mouths agape, skin draining of color.

You turn your eyes the same direction as theirs, and a sudden chill waves all throughout your body.

It’s kinich.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich locks eyes with you, his breath hitching. Almost terrified you’ll disappear in front of his eyes, he doesn’t waste another second and sprints towards you on his feet, ignoring the sharp pain afflicted to his ligaments. The tribespeople quickly free you from their clutches, stepping back as your aching bodies collided into an embrace.

Everyone else disappears from his world as he takes you into his dirtied arms. His body melt into yours, leaving no space for the opportunity of separation between both of you ever again. He feels you trembling underneath his touch making him hold you tighter. “I’m home.” He whispers into your ear, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders, like bulky armor sliding off of his battered frame— He had died a hundred times to tell you those words.

He can hear you; you're crying into his shoulder, salty tears reviving the scent of the dried blood on his clothes. All he can do is hold you, and take refuge back into your arms after leaving them for what seemed like an eternity. His heart is communicating with yours, beating back and forth at each other. “I was looking for you.” You mumbled against his skin, lips quivering. Your voice is hesitant, as you pull away and look into his tired dark-golden eyes.

“You never lost me in the first place.” He whispers, planting a delicate kiss to your cheek, placing your nimble hand on the left side of his chest to feel evidence of his return. His arms felt lighter, his bones seemed to unbreak, and his wounds were no longer burning. His eyes slowly stickled with tears, burying his face into your hair to let out his shy tears before you had the chance to notice.

His body grew vulnerable under your touch as your tears slowly undid the knot of grief residing in his chest. He almost feels himself shrink back to when he was a lonely child as your mere presence invited the fragile parts of him to be loved again.

His soul yearns for moment like this, where your love is presented raw; It was never about just the beauty. He thawed under your touch even when his clothes and body was drab and scarred. It was never about just the mora, his wallet was no longer weighing in his pocket and he knew that he didn't have to worry about it. It was never about just the distance, it didn't matter if he had to crawl from mondstadt, he still would've tried to come home even if he knew he would die along the way. and it was never about the festivity. he didn't need a festival to celebrate in a way of holding you like he is now. It was always about the bond between both of you and how much joy his heart is beating out just because he can count the beats of yours.

To him, his soul is bound with yours. No matter how far his heroship takes him, he’ll always return to you. For him, that was enough of a reason to come crawling home. 

Kinich escaped heaven a hundred times to come home to you. For you, he would’ve gladly left a hundred times more.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You relish his embrace with tears sticking your lashes together when your mind slowly floats you away to a distant memory, one you feel like you should have forgotten by now.

It was so long ago.. 7 years ago or so?

It happened somewhere.. Here?

With someone.. Kinich.

You were younger teenagers with kinich that time. You had tripped down a short rocky fall while traversing grassy terrain with kinich. A wince squeaks through your gritted teeth, as he poured water onto the gash you scored on your stumbling. “I’ve always told you to stay sharp when we go out on a walk, but you never listen.” He grumbles, wiping off the dirt that trailed down your calf. “..And everytime you trip, it’s always me who has to clean you up, bandage you, and carry you home.”  He treated your wound as you sat on a rock, awkwardly playing with your fingertips.

You can tell he was just worried about you, you always managed to injure yourself when he took his eyes off of you. He was already pressured on finding a way home, but you just had to go get your knee busted. “Sorry.” you mumble, heat rising to your skin out of embarrassment. “If you really were sorry, you would actually look before you land your feet.” he said bitterly, undoing his bandana, and wrapping it around your knee tightly. As he tightened the knot, he said: “You know I won't always be around to protect you right?” 

“Yeah..” you shuffle your feet around. “But I-i swear I looked before I stepped okay! But the dip was.. was hiding under all the grass.” You attempt to defend yourself, looking at him with guilt written all over your face.

“Can you just promise me you’ll make heaven wait when I'm not around?” He sighs, before helping you get back on your feet, his arm snaking around your waist, as he scooped your shoulder over his shoulder. “Only if you promise too!” you scoff. He rolls his eyes, “As if I'll ever die before you. Seriously, one day I might just be running a commission and bump into you just bleeding to death from your knee.” you grimace under the thought. “Don’t say such horrible things!”

“Then promise me.” “..I promise.”

[frenchie-simone]

Physicality

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader

word count: 2.8k

tags/warnings: SMUT 18+, reader is some kind of wolf/dog-ish mutant but no tail/ears described, reader has hair, reader is in heat, unprotected piv, creampie, logan has a pain kink (duh)

a/n: y’all i wrote this because i sometimes do feel like a bitch in heat, so this is self-indulgent as it always is. a tiny bit rushed so it’s not the best but i think it’s alright. if i forgot tags or warnings lmk!!

Today marks the day that you've officially been a part of the X-Men for six months. Your first mission feels like an eternity ago, perhaps because you're so busy every day, no day quite like the previous one. Being an X-Man means two things to you: dangerous missions and physics classes.

Oh, and of course, the massive crush you have on Logan. He doesn't know, how could he, when you cover up your feelings with snarky comments and distant behaviour? Logan doesn’t question why your anger seems to be directed at him the most, he just thinks you hate him more than you hate the average person. It’s partly true, you hate him for the way he makes you feel. More than that, you hate the fact that it's a full moon tonight.

It's after school hours, and you're preparing yourself for spending the night in the forest. You grade the physics homework, take a shower, change to more comfortable clothes and eventually sneak out of your room, trying to avoid anyone asking questions. It’s evening and the sun is setting early, so you decide it safer to leave the mansion now, just in case.

You greet students downstairs, and thankfully no one decides to chat more than that. You make it out to the courtyard without anyone interrupting you. You hop the fence and head towards the entrance to the forest, but your heightened senses pick up a familiar musky smell. You stop in your tracks and mutter a “fuck” under your breath before turning around. To no one’s surprise, you find Logan trying to follow you. He widens his eyes, but quickly regains his composure, his usual smirk creeping on his face. His gorgeous face…

“Were you following me?” you ask and cross your arms, glaring at Logan. He huffs a laugh and props a hand on his hip.

“Yeah. Was curious as to where you're sneaking out on a Tuesday” he says casually and raises an expectant brow, waiting for an explanation. You clench your jaw and look away, trying to figure out a plausible excuse.

“It’s a full moon tonight. I just wanted to watch the sky. In peace” you emphasize the last word. It’s getting darker by the second, and the minute the sun leaves the horizon, it's too late. Logan can't be near you tonight. You already feel the heat simmering on your skin despite the cool breeze.

Logan scrunches his eyebrows and looks at you, unconvinced. And yet, he only exhales and nods. “Alright, sweetheart. Just try not to get mauled by wolves, will ya?” he says with a smirk. If only he knew you were the wolf to look out for. You roll your eyes at him and mutter some curses under your breath before turning around and walking deeper into the woods.

It’s midnight and the sun has set. You're located deep in the forest, far from other people. The heat is getting to you now. Your muscles are twitching, your core is aching and it feels like your blood is boiling. You sit down and lean against a tree trunk, not caring about the dirt ruining your clothes, panting and trying to calm yourself down. You know that pleasuring yourself won't fix it, but it'll at least bring temporary relief. You slide your hand down your pants and under your panties and start massaging your clit. Pictures of Logan pop into your mind; images of him shirtless, sweaty, just after a workout… you can't help but imagine what he would look like on top of you. Or under. Or from the side.

“Logan…” you can't help but moan his name at the thought. Even imagining him is bringing you close to finishing. You move your fingers from your bud and curl them inside you, inside your already soaking pussy, and press your palm down on your bundle of nerves. You add another finger and start pumping slowly at first, but you lose your cool almost immediately. Your pace quickly becomes fast and hard, and with Logan's face and body plastered on the wall of your mind, you release on your fingers in record time. You mutter a "fuck" at how quickly you came because the ache comes back almost as fast as you finished. You lean your head against the tree and groan in annoyance, before bringing your fingers into your mouth to clean them. It hurts so much, it throbs and aches, so you bury your head in your knees and try to distract yourself from the pain that you can't fix yourself. You try to think about your next physics lesson, upcoming missions, and what you'll do on the weekend... and for a while, it works. Until you hear a twig crack and snap your head towards the sound.

You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't smelled Logan approaching. Now he's appearing through the trees, searching for you. And that musky, earthy scent of him is even stronger to you in your current state, and your nose twitches involuntarily. He sees you crouched on the ground, dishevelled and seemingly exhausted, and he quickly rushes to you. Worry etches his face as he kneels before you and places a hand on your knee. "Sweetheart, what happened? Are you alright?" he asks, searching your body for cuts or bruises. You swallow and look down at his large hand touching you.

"I'm fine, but you really shouldn't be here" you try to tell him, your voice shaky. He furrows his brows and gently strokes your knee, the worry still there. "Don't lie to me, Wolves. What's up?" he pushes, not listening to your dismissals anymore. You lightly shudder under his touch and your breath quickens. You try to calm yourself, but it's no use. "Logan, I'm serious. This is something I gotta deal with alone" you manage to say between shallow breaths. His hand stops stroking and slightly tightens its grip on you. "I'm not leaving 'til you tell me what's going on" he says with a stern voice. You can tell he means it. You swallow your pride and just decide to give him the truth.

"I'm in heat. You know, like an animal…" you mutter and look down, embarrassed to admit it. When he doesn't answer you, you carefully glance up. His eyes have gone wide and you hear him take a shaky breath. Oh fuck, did you make him uncomfortable? You turn your head to the side to avoid his face and you feel shame creeping on your cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay... I was just taken by surprise, I had no idea..." he explains after seeing you turn your head away. You turn your gaze towards him again, and he doesn't appear disgusted or uncomfortable, just a little... nervous. Logan takes a deep breath before speaking again: "Do you..." he clears his throat, "want me to help you?"

Your mouth falls agape at his words and your eyes widen. He can't mean what you think he is, right?

"How?" you ask him, eyes still blown wide. He rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to phrase it. "You know... take care of you," he says and looks at you, anxiously waiting for your reaction. You didn't think he'd actually suggest it, but now that he did, your body goes hot all over. You try to play cool even as you hear your heartbeat in your ears. "I couldn't possibly make you do that, Logan. It doesn't feel right" you answer with your remaining sensibility, but your urges and instincts strongly disagree. You look down at your knees, trying to hide the pleading in your eyes. Logan only scooches closer to you and takes your chin in his hand and tilts your head towards him.

"You're not making me, Wolves. I want to help you, wanna make you feel good. C'mon, let me take care of you" he assures you and holds eye contact, wanting to show you he means it. His words, his closeness, his tenderness... it's too much to refuse. You can't control your urges anymore.

You bite down on your lip to keep in any pathetic whines, but the way he looks at you is like an invitation to pounce on him. Before you can register what you're doing, you're pressing your lips to his. You only get a taste before you realize what you're doing and quickly pull away. "Shit. I'm sorry" you mutter and move away. You see his jaw clench, and you think you’ve upset him. The thought makes your heart drop.

Until he grabs your neck and smashes his lips on yours. You whimper at the sudden movement, but you quickly kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He groans against your mouth, before his tongue runs along your lower lip, asking for permission to enter. You part your lips instinctively and he doesn't waste a second shoving his tongue in your mouth. Your own tongue quickly joins in, until you're both devouring each other with such passion and hunger that it makes your head spin and core overheat. Logan sits down on the ground without parting his lips from yours and pulls you down with him, and you adjust your thighs to straddle him.

Neither Logan nor you thought this was how your first time would go, but neither of you could foresee this. All your sensibility, rationality and critical thinking were thrown out the window, and all you can think about is his large, muscular, perfect body under yours. In the heat of the moment, you start subconsciously grinding your core against his already stonehard length. His hands fly on your hips to guide you, and he groans against your mouth at the friction. You pull away only to catch your breath, still rocking against him, and your hands go to lace themselves in his brown hair. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting against his skin, but the need for more becomes too strong.

“Please, Logan… I need you inside me” you practically whine, teeth sinking into his neck in an attempt to muffle your pathetic whines and mewls. Logan groans at the sting of your teeth in his neck, and if you’d see his face, you’d notice his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Mmh, you’ll get what you need, sweet girl. I’ll take good care of you” Logan coos into your ear, lifting you up and placing you to lie back on the ground. He’d like to take his time, draw out your pleasure, but Logan can sense the urgency of your situation. You start quickly unbuttoning your pants, needing to get him inside before the painful throbbing of your pussy becomes too much to bear. Logan complies, starting to unbuckle his belt, although he’d very much like to see you naked, to see that skin he’s been dreaming about ever since he laid eyes on you. Another time, he thinks to himself.

You pull your pants off hastily, while your eyes are fixed on Logan’s bulge still hidden beneath the fabric. When you’re in just your panties, you start helping him, or at least you try to, but you’re just fumbling with the zipper because of the hurry you’re in. Logan can’t help but smirk to himself, but he makes no comment, knowing you’re more than just desperate. He pulls down his jeans along with his boxers, freeing has impressive and extremely hard length, the tip already leaking pre-cum. Your eyes widen at the sight, and you feel your walls clench around nothing. You’d like nothing more than to run your tongue over his prominent vein, or take his cock down your throat. That’ll have to wait for another time.

You pull Logan closer by hooking your legs around his waist, and he falls forward with a grunt, but quickly steadies himself on his forearms. You don’t even take off your drenched panties, you just pull them to the side, waiting for him to give you exactly what you want and need.

“You sure you want this, darlin’?” Logan asks you, giving you one more chance to change your name. You quickly nod your head, grabbing ahold of his dick and guiding it to your entrance.

“Words, baby” Logan tsks at you, wanting verbal confirmation. You mentally groan, feeling like if you opened your mouth you won’t be able to shut it. “Yes, fuck, I want it. Need you” you pathetically beg, still trying to pull him closer.

Logan straight up growls as he finally caves, despite that nagging feeling in the back of his head telling him this is wrong. That he’s taking advantage of a poor bitch in heat. He quickly realises the guilt is not enough to stop him. In one hard thrust, Logan sheathes himself inside you, and you gasp at the sudden but very welcome intrusion. He’s already panting heavily, trying to take it slow, as to not hurt you. Too bad you’re not having it.

“Please move, Logan…” you whine, trying to rock into his shaft. Logan’s large palm quickly moves to pin your hip down, and before you can protest, he pulls out almost all the way, before slamming into you. You cry out in pleasure, your hands flying up to claw at his shoulders. Logan buries his face in your neck, as he repeats the motions, going slow but incredibly deep inside you, you can feel him in your tummy. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, he can’t help but groan, trying to muffle his noises against your skin. He moves his arms to wrap underneath you as he now picks up his pace, unable to go slow when it comes to you. You moan at the increased speed, your sharp nails scratching down his arms, and to your surprise, he lets out a moan at the sting.

“Fuck, baby… gonna come before you if you keep that up” Logan grunts, but makes no effort to slow down. You start trying to meet his thrusts with your hips, but Logan is not having it. He holds you tighter, fucking you down on his cock. He frees one hand from underneath you, moving it between your bodies to rapidly draw circles your swollen clit. You whine at the added sensation, your back arching off the ground.

“I’m gonna- fuck!” you cry out, unable to finish your sentence as your orgasm suddenly crashes down on you with a brutal force. Your nerve endings are lit on fire, but in the best way, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you’re struggling to stay grounded. Logan holds you through it, just whispering sweet nothings to you:

“That’s it, baby. I’ve gotcha.”

“Did so good for me…”

Logan helps brings you down from the high, and for the first time in days, that seemingly insatiable hunger that had been residing in the pit of your stomach is gone. But not for long.

“Logan, I want you to cum in me, please…” you whine, your weak thighs shaking as you try to pin him to your pussy. Logan groans, knowing he really shouldn’t. It’s reckless, irresponsible, but how can he refuse you when you’re being so pathetic and needy for him to fill you up?

Logan lifts you up from the ground with effortlessly, making you straddle his thighs. He holds you down on his cock as he starts thrusting up into you, now just chasing his own release. You whimper as he pierces you on his dick, but you take it, more than willingly. It doesn’t take long, until he’s coming with a strained groan, holding you down on him, his grip so tight it’ll bruise. You feel his warm spend coat your inner walls, filling you up to the brim as he pumps himself empty. You let out an almost obscene moan as you cum on his cock again, the remnants or your previous orgasm not having faded.

“Fuck, Wolves… I shouldn’t have done that” Logan murmurs into your ear but with a slight grin betraying his words, and you can only giggle in response. There was no regret in either of you, you’ll worry about plan B tomorrow. If you remember…

You sit on his lap for a few moments, letting him catch his breath. For only a split second, you’re aware of the fact that you’re in the middle of a forest, both of your clothes covered in dirt, and you’re pretty sure you feel a leaf in your hair. When you feel him soften in you, you look up from his neck, admiring his face for a second. Your lips curl into a small smile.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

[just-jordie-things]

try to understand - inumaki toge

word count: 15k warnings: swearing, canon typical violence, some canon divergence (toge still has one arm, most characters are a teacher at jujutsu tech) unedited leave me alone maybe i'll do it later summary: being misunderstood isn't new for inumaki toge. but when the girl he'd had a crush on since he was a teenager makes a reappearance in his life, he realizes he'd really, really like for her to understand him. more info: miscommunication trope bcuz it's toge... he's just a pining romantic !! strangers -> slight enemies -> reluctant friends -> lovers. reader is a feelings-blind, emotionally constipated lil idiot <3

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

The Jujutsu Tech Exchange Event was stress inducing enough.  Being evaluated by the higher ups and pitted against peers in a test of cursed ability and strength put a lot of pressure on those who participated.  

Not that participation was ever a choice.

And to be honest, if it was a volunteer event, (y/n) would have some serious thinking to do.

It wasn’t that she doubted her abilities as a sorcerer.  She had all the confidence in the world with her mastered ability, but sometimes the weight of being a jujutsu sorcerer was so heavy she couldn’t even be sure it was the right path for her.

But it had to be, right? With her skill being more akin to raw talent, sorcery coming as natural to her as breathing, it must be what she was meant for, it just made sense like that.

So most days, she woke up, shook off the empty feeling of longing on her mind, and got right to work.  Whether it was training, studying, or a bright and early assignment, she stayed on top of things.  She couldn’t let a feeling slow her down, and she didn’t.

Still, she wished she could feel what her peers do.  Because whatever it was, Mai and Todo made it look pretty exhilarating.

Miwa, Mechamaru, Momo, and Noritoshi didn’t seem as interested in antagonizing the Tokyo students either, but they were content hanging out with the snacks they’d gotten from the vending machines without picking any fights.  (y/n) sat with them, slowly sipping on the fruity drink she’d gotten for herself in the hopes that it would gear her up for the event.

“Looks like things are heating up” Miwa says, her neck craning to get a better glimpse at what was going on between the noisy students.  It didn’t take a genius to know exactly what was going on, though.

Mai and Todo being their usual selves, that is.  (y/n) didn’t bother trying to watch the scene unfold.  Instead she just slumped further down into the grass.  If only she could sink underneath it, too.

“Should we intervene?” Momo asks, but she doesn’t seem any more interested in (y/n).  Laid back on her broom with her hands behind her head, she was the image of disinterest.

There wasn’t a chance (y/n) was getting involved in any of this.  The only thing she had her sights set on was a solid nap after today’s event was over.

The event itself was the same as last year… and every year before that.  A bunch of egotistical sorcerers running around in the woods, eac trying to exorcize more curses than the last.  Of course, these last couple of times had more of an edge to them than usual.  With Mai always gunning for her sister- literally- there was an added layer of bloodlust.  And god forbid Todo found any of his opponents boring.  He’d take all the ‘friendly’ out of friendly competition.

Perched in a spot she wouldn’t call great for hiding but she didn’t necessarily care, (y/n) had her chin in her hand to keep her head up.  She’d fall asleep right there if she could.  A part of her wished that Tokyo’s Special Grade Okkotsu Yuuta would show up, just to put this whole silly thing to an end as quickly as he did last year.  Her peers weren’t so happy about him, or Rika, being involved in the Exchange Event, but that day he was (y/n’s) hero.

Lazily, her eyes swept over the area below her.  No one had ventured this way since she’d climbed this tree, and if she was lucky, she might be able to sit here until the whole thing was over.  She could only dream.

But all good things must come to an end, and soon enough the unmistakable sound of footsteps came running towards her tree.  She perked up, just a little, and only because it was a surprise that whoever was rushing into her neck of the woods clearly wasn’t doing so with the intention of going unnoticed.

Swinging her legs a bit, (y/n) peeked down below her, trying to catch a good look at who it was.  Surely not one of her peers, they had to be a Tokyo student.

Sure enough, an unfamiliar head of blonde hair came bounding into the clearing just below her tree.  Of the Tokyo students she was familiar with- Maki, Panda, Fushiguro, and she supposed Yuuta- this wasn’t one of them.  So she played it safe by remaining silent.

It crosses her mind that any of her fellow sorcerers would’ve taken this chance to go head to head with their abilities. They’d probably think she was wasting an opportunity by letting this boy run by without a fight.  The thought doesn’t linger long.  She’s not bothered much by what others might think of her.  She knows that if she wanted to, she could take any sorcerer on in a fight.  She just… didn’t care much to use her cursed technique where it wasn’t necessary.

At first all she can see is the blonde hair.  He seems to hesitate once in the clearing, doing a quick sweep to make sure there wasn’t another sorcerer hiding amongst the brush.  (y/n) holds her breath, but not once does he lift his head to check amongst the trees.  She’s in the clear.

From the little bit that he looks around himself, she notices that his uniform includes a tall black collar which covers the bottom half of his face.

It doesn’t take much else to put two and two together.  This was the Cursed Speech user she’d been warned about.  From the Inumaki Clan.  She holds her breath once more.

Mai had told her long winded and horrific things about the Inumaki Clan.  Stories similar scary tales told around the campfire.  Except they were all cramped up in the car that brought them to Tokyo.  If it was a scare tactic to keep everyone away from Tokyo’s Cursed Speech user, (y/n) couldn’t say it was all that fear inducing.

That doesn’t mean she didn’t have her curiosities.

“Jump down” 

It was an experience like no other.  Any thought on her mind was erased.  Her held breath was expelled just as quickly as she was releasing her secure hold on the branch, and before she knew it she was leaping right off, without a care for being noticed.  Had she been less experienced in acrobatics, she might’ve sprained an ankle from the ten foot drop.  Lucky her that a lifetime of training meant she landed as gracefully as she would’ve had she jumped on her own volition.

And it was quick too- just as soon as she’d realized the hold that Cursed Speech had on her, she was already free of it’s effects and was level headed again.  At least enough to take a step backwards to put some distance between herself and the Tokyo student who’d caught her red handed.

However she quickly noticed that the Inumaki boy wasn’t in an offensive stance.  He wasn’t really in any stance at all- he just stood there, watching her with seemingly the same amount of curiosity as she watched him.

(y/n) doesn’t mean any offense, but it’s hard not to stare.  With a collar hiding the lower half of his face, his eyes felt all the more piercing.  As if he had full access to her mind whether he spoke or not.

Using her own cursed technique crosses her mind, but it’s a distant thought, as if the competition at play isn’t happening at all.

She’s not sure she’s ever met anyone with such deep violet eyes before.

It’s ridiculous to wait for him to say something.  But she stands there with more impatience than she’s ever felt before.

“Aren’t you going to knock me out or something?” She asks when she realizes he’s still just going to stand there.

Inumaki blinks, mabe pondering it for a moment, before he shrugs.  (y/n) hardly knows what to do with that, and despite knowing he’s not going to give her any proper explanation, she still seems to wait for something more than a shrug.

So with a careful eye she steps back a little further, just to see if he’d make any move on removing her from the game.  But no matter how many small steps she took, Inumaki didn’t move.  He barely seemed to care.  Didn’t he know he had the unbeatable technique? If he wanted to, he could put her to sleep right now.

With one last glance, (y/n) finally turned and booked it towards the thickest bundle of trees with the most coverage.  It was clear that he wasn’t going to attack her, and it shouldn’t have surprised her that he didn’t seem to be following after her either.  What was his deal? What was Tokyo’s strategy if it wasn’t wiping out the competition? She couldn’t make any sense of it, so for now she’d just have to find a new spot to hide out until the event was over.  Or became more interesting.

It never really crossed her mind that she hadn’t tried to attack him, either.

The event did get more interesting.  Although it wasn’t an exciting turn, (y/n) did find herself suddenly thrown into engaging herself.

How curses and curse users managed to get through the barrier around Jujutsu Tech, she didn’t understand.  Critical thinking however was out the window as soon as that Special Grade Tree showed up.

With a less than formal introduction to Itadori, she found herself wrapped up with him and Todo.  Perhaps the last place she wanted to be- she hated the dizzying effect of his cursed technique- but it was where she found herself.  So she gave it her all, even when the turn for the worst took a detour towards chaos.

It was a strange feeling though, in the thick of the fight and expecting the worst, there was finally a spark within her.  Something buzzing like static electricity was starting to take form.  A small zap at first, an eagerness to play on the offense, and it seemed the more she chased that electric buzz, the more it grew.  There was no denying that something had changed in her demeanor- the others could see it in the way she stopped pulling her punches.  That’s not to mention the grin on her face growing more unhinged like a snarl with every move she made.

That little buzz had ignited into an all out fire, and soon she grew blind to everything but the fight.

Was this passion? Was this finally her eye opening moment to the pleasure of knowing and loving what she’s meant to do? The thoughts were muddled amongst the overwhelming urge to finish this off, to exorcize, to win.  She’s never felt a desire this strong, never sought out a victory quite like this, and it was just barely out of reach, right at the tips of her fingers- 

“Run away!” 

And just as (y/n’s)cursed energy began to materialize around her hands, it was disappearing.  Her body swiveled on it’s own accord, facing her in the other direction and pumping her legs into the motion of running all before she could process that this wasn’t her own doing.  It was cursed speech.  Again.

Her deranged grin fell into a sour grimace as she found herself full sprinting towards the other side of campus, other sorcerers in tow feeling just as useless as they were forced away from the fight.

What was once a burning passion turned into a bitter cold resentment.  All she could think as she ran away from the fight was how dare Inumaki dismiss her? The bitterness in her mood only festered the more she grew to blame him for sending her away.

The next time their paths cross, she’d make sure to give him a piece of her mind.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 5 YEARS LATER  ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Coming back to Jujutsu Tech Tokyo wasn’t exactly a choice (y/n) would have made for herself, she could admit that.

She’d never wanted to become a teacher.  The idea of continuing the cycle of turning young people into jujutsu sorcerers made her stomach knot.  So no matter how persistent the Kyoto and Tokyo branches were- she wanted nothing to do with it.  She’d continue her own work- privately- exorcizing curses for a living, but she swore she’d bite the curb before getting involved any further than that.

Curb, meet (y/n).

Standing outside the grand double doors that was the main entrance to the Tokyo school, she couldn’t help but let her shoulders sink.  Since graduating a few years ago and entering the real world as an adult, (y/n) had spent most of her time alone.  Living alone, working alone- she’d quickly learned it was the only way to be when you’re a jujutsu sorcerer.  Letting people in was a risk, getting attached to someone was a risk, it felt like it was just easier to function as a singular unit.  No one to look out for but herself.

The doors opened before she could even knock.  Before she even gave turning around and disappearing a second thought.

“(y/l/n)!” 

Itadori Yuji was just as she remembered him.  So outgoing it would be inappropriate if he wasn’t completely genuine.  With a large grin he ushered her inside, his mouth running a hundred miles a minute, going on about how long it had been, how she was doing, how he was doing, how happy he was to see her in Tokyo.

“I mean, it’s been what, five years? You look great! Here follow me, the others are waiting just down here…” 

It’s only then that she finally finds her voice and cuts off his eager rambling.

“Others?” She repeats the word her mind had caught onto.  “I thought this was a quick in and out sort of thing” 

Yuji could be dense at times, but he didn’t miss the way her eyes narrowed on him with an accusatory glare behind them.  So with a smile that seemed more sheepish than reassuring, he waved his hand in a dismissive manner and blew a raspberry.  (y/n’s) expression didn’t waver.

“In and out, two weeks, it’s all relative, right?” He joked, and now she’s gaping at him with widened eyes that seemed all the more upset.

“Two weeks?” Her voice raises just a little, not enough to yell, but enough that her exasperation was evident.  “Itadori, you said you just needed a bit of a fill in, two weeks is not a fill in!” 

He’s walking faster down the hall, not that it was difficult for (y/n) to keep up with him.  Two pairs of loafers clicking loudly and quickly against the tile, they almost looked like they were playing a game of chase.

“My hands are tied here, it’s really not up to-” 

Just as Itadori lifts his hands in mock surrender, he’s frozen in place, a familiar energy coursing through his body that keeps him stuck like a statue.

(y/n) finally gets in front of him, with her hands encased in cursed energy and a scowl on her face.

“You’re being dodgy,” She states, eyeing the way he clearly tries to fight her cursed technique to no avail.  “Why do you really need me here for two weeks?” 

When she’d gotten a call from an unknown number a few days ago, she hadn’t expected to hear Itadori Yuji.  She also hadn’t expected to hear him reaching out for help, backup as he called it.  “It’ll be so quick, in and out!” He’d promised.  “And then you can go home and I won’t bother you again!” 

Why she’d actually agreed to fly out to Tokyo for this mystery backup, she wasn’t sure.  Something must have clouded her judgment at that moment.  Now she just feels like facepalming.  How ridiculous was she for not asking more questions?

“Okay, okay,” Yuji huffs, clearly fighting hard against the stun of her cursed energy.  He’d seen it in action once or twice, but that would have happened years ago, and he certainly never felt it’s effect on himself before.

Paralyze was an interesting technique, with the ability to stun anything she pleases, (y/n) could render her enemies frozen and helpless with a slight wave of her hand.  Of course, it’s effects only last as long as she’s capable of holding them still.  The stronger the opponent, the weaker her technique.  So it doesn’t take long before Yuji’s squirming out of it’s hold, and soon (y/n) drops her technique completely.

“In case you haven’t noticed… we’re low on sorcerers around here,” He admits defeatedly.  (y/n) stays quiet, she didn’t need to say that she’d obviously noticed the empty halls and echo of every noise they made.  “Fushiguro’s busy with Zen’in politics, and ropes Maki into it more than she cares to be involved.  Okkotsu’s never free from assignments, Kugisaki and I take everything he can’t… we’re stretched thin, you know?” 

(y/n) nods in understanding, but she’s still waiting for him to explain the part where she comes in.

“And you need me to…? Take some exorcisms off your plate?” She tries to fill in the blank, but judging by the half wince Yuji gives her, she supposes her guess is wrong.

“Well… we actually need someone to help with the training aspect of-” 

“Not teaching” Her voice is monotone as she hopes he’s not about to tell her she’s been called here to chaperone a bunch of kids.

“Teaching…” Yuji finishes slowly, drawing out the word as if it will make the blow less painful.  It only makes it more painfully awkward.

“Itadori-!” Just as she starts to scold him, upset that she’s been lured out here under false pretenses, only to be asked to do the one thing she’d sworn she’d never do, they’re greeted by the rest of their company.

“(y/l/n)-san! Long time no see!” 

Panda is as warm of a presence as ever, though (y/n) had only met him a handful of times, he greets her as if they were long time friends being reunited.  For a brief moment, she actually relaxes.

And then she sees him.

Inumaki Toge somehow looks exactly the same, and like a completely different person from the last time she’d seen him.  His hair was a little shaggier, still covering his forehead and just barely sweeping over the deep violet eyes that feel more familiar than they should.  He still wears a collar with his uniform, a soft looking gray material that sits above the crisp black jacket that matches hers.

The more noticeable change, however, is his lack of a right arm.  (y/n) tries not to stare directly at the space where his bicep ends and his forearm was supposed to begin, but she’s sure he notices the way her eyes dart to and from the missing limb, quickly looking back at his face again.

She’s not too thrilled about looking at him at all, so she directs her attention back towards Panda, clearing her throat of the lump that seemed to form in the matter of seconds.

“Hi,” She greets him, and only him it seems, before going right into the matter at hand.  “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help you out here-” 

“I’m so glad you came!” Panda cheers like she’s doing him the favor of the century.  “We really need all the help we can get, but I just want the best of the best!” 

(y/n) swallows thickly before another lump can form.

“And I knew you’d help out.  Besides, we can finally catch up! It’s been a long time” Panda continues chatting despite the clear discomfort on (y/n’s) face.  She wonders if he’s trying to guilt her, or if he’s just so delusional in thinking this was some special reunion.  She really hardly knew the Tokyo students back then.

Maki was probably the only one she’d be all that comfortable with, and she was nowhere to be found.

(y/n) shifted her weight back and forth, trying to find the right thing to say that would get her out of here as fast as possible.

“We can have some tea and chat about what your role will look like for the time being-” 

“I can’t” She blurts out.  Wrong thing to say.  The hallway feels even more empty now, her short words echoing off the high ceilings, leaving no room for misinterpretation between the other three sorcerers.

“Huh?” Panda hums, his head tilted to the side in his confusion.  “You can’t stay?”

“Look, I’m sorry and all, but when you called me I thought you needed help with a curse, okay? Not…” Her hands wave around vaguely gesturing to the space around them.  “Playing teacher” 

Inumaki snorts, and her eyes flicker towards him almost challengingly, as if asking what she’d said so wrong, but there was nothing but amusement in the part of his expression she could see, and she turns back towards Panda.

“I’m no use for that, alright?” She sighs.  “I would’ve told you, had I known, but this one-” Her finger points towards Itadori, who suddenly looks like he’s been caught red handed, “Decided to be cryptic. So,  Sorry, but no” 

“I see,” Panda replied, sounding like some of his energy had been drained by her rejection.  “Well, we could still have that tea?” 

She should’ve turned down that offer as well, because tea led to chatting, and chatting led to bonding, and it wasn’t long before Panda was pushing his offer again.

“It’s just… the kids could really use some help with their training…” He says as he stares into the near empty cup in his paw.  Somehow it looks even smaller when held by him.  “They’re good kids, you know? Respectful, kind… it would be so simple… monitoring some cursed technique use, maybe going on some Grade Four assignments…” 

(y/n) stares boredly at him as he goes on, describing the job like it’s the simplest position in the world.  As if she couldn’t remember watching the stress of it affect her own teacher back in the day.  Utahime’s frown lines were irreversible now.  Although that could partially be due to her Tokyo counterpart…

Her tired gaze shifts towards Yuji, who’s holding his mug in both hands and grinning from ear to ear.  Too hopeful for his own good.  The corners of her lips twitch, an undeniable urge to reciprocate his boundless joy.  She has to look away from him.

Inumaki appears less interested in the whole scheme.  He’d leaned away from the table as soon as he’d finished his tea.  With his hand planted behind him to keep him propped up, he’s the image of disinterest.  He’s not even watching Panda’s attempts at swaying (y/n’s) opinion, his eyes wandering the common room’s wall.  (y/n) finds herself also checking out the wall, trying to find whatever could hold his attention more than his friend’s useless rambling.  Besides a few picture frames and worn wallpaper, she can’t find anything worth her attention.

But when she turns away from it, Inumaki must have also lost interest, because he was looking directly at her.  She freezes up for a moment, a feeling eerily similar to her own cursed technique, before it creeps away and she finds herself averting her gaze as rapidly as she’s able.

Which lands her looking right back at Panda, who’s watching her with an open mouthed grin, clearly awaiting an answer to a question she hadn’t heard.

Shit, she hadn’t been listening?

“What did you say?” She asked, her eyebrows raising with a small hum at the end of her question.

“I’ll make sure that you aren’t bothered like this again,” Panda repeats his earlier statement.  “If we weren’t at the end of our rope, I wouldn’t be asking like this now… but it seems this is just the position we’ve found ourselves in,” He sighs, furry shoulders slumping.  “I’m just trying to do what I can to provide the best resources for these youngsters but I’m only one panda, and the world will always need sorcerers out there to-” 

“Alright then” 

In an instant, three pairs of eyes land on her, shock evident in all of them.  She can’t pretend to be surprised by their astonishment, as she’d been pretty stubborn prior to now.  She could say that she had a change of heart, that he swayed her with his kind words and positive outlook on guiding the students in his care.  

But truthfully? She didn’t think she’d forgive herself if she made Panda cry.

“You- you mean it?” Panda asks, disbelief evident in his tone, and in the way his mouth stayed hanging open.

“Yes,” She can’t help a short laugh escaping through her exhale.  “On the condition you don’t ask me any more favors” She adds, her finger in the air as she awaited Panda’s confirmation.

“Heard! Deal!” He hollered, his gape turning into a grin as his paw snatched up her hand and shook it wildly.  “You don’t understand how much this means, (y/l/n)-san!” 

“Oh, I’m starting to” She says with a wince of a smile as she pulls her hand away, flexing her sore fingers.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be staying!” Yuji leaps up from the ground and is at the door before (y/n) could even stand.  “And I’ll let someone know you’ll need a few changes in uniform, too” He adds as an afterthought, noticing her already wrinkled jacket from the last hour of sitting hunched over on the ground for tea.

Briefly glancing between Panda and Inumaki, she realizes she’s left with no choice but to get up and follow after Yuji, who seemed to be treating the whole ordeal like it was Christmas day.

Whether or not she could feel Inumaki’s gaze following her as she stood and left, she didn’t make clear.  Nonetheless his eyes lingered at the door even once she’d gone.

It’s not until Panda lets out a full belly laugh that the cursed speech user is pulled back into reality, and he furrows his brows at his old friend.

“Bonito flakes” He mutters with a shake of his head, before getting up and stretching his arm.  Leaning all of his weight on it for a while had it feeling tender, but the scowl on his face was completely due to Panda.

“What?” Panda asks, his voice hitting a higher octave, knowing exactly why his friend was being snarky.  “You stared at her the whole time, I’m not even sure you blinked!” 

Toge rolls his eyes just as he rolls his shoulder to work out the soreness.  So full of shit, he thinks, but he can’t help the growing smile behind his collar, as he can’t exactly deny the accusation.

But what can he say? He’d only met the girl for a short time, years ago, and it was enough to leave a lasting impression.  At least enough that he was eager to meet her again- even if she didn’t share the thrill of her visit.  He’d just have to find a way to help her enjoy her time here.

“Good luck getting her to actually enjoy it here,” Panda huffs, reading his mind as always.  Toge gives him a curious look, waiting for any bright ideas.  Unfortunately, Panda wasn’t exactly optimistic about (y/n’s) time here.  “Maki calls her the off grid sorcerer for a reason,” 

Toge wants to call him out on that, because sometimes Maki does saki bombs and likes to gossip, but for some reason, the words fail him.

“She’s dodged every request to teach, or even show up at any events held at the schools,” Panda explains.  “Maki says she hates jujutsu sorcery” 

That earns another eye roll from Toge.  It just didn’t make sense, who could she hate jujutsu sorcery, when she was actively still a jujutsu sorcerer?

“Ikura” Toge dismisses him with a lame wave of his hand.  It was stupid, and he wasn’t going to get into a stupid argument.  Maybe it was silly to feel this defensive over a high school crush that probably barely remembered him, but if Panda was going to be this childish, then so could he.

“Fine, do your best,” Panda says, standing to follow his friend out of the room.  “But I’d be impressed if you found a way to make her feel otherwise” 

Challenge accepted, Toge thinks to himself as he meanders back towards his own quarters.  

Step one would be getting to know her, properly, like he’d wanted to years ago.  And step two would be finding a way to make her stay.

That couldn’t be too hard, could it? 

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

(y/n) never forgot the revenge she swore she’d take on Inumaki had she ever seen his face again.  She can’t ignore the small spike of bitterness in her chest whenever she sees him.

But she’s not sure what to do with that feeling now.

She’s standing in the classroom that supposedly belonged to Maki when she was around.  It was empty, too early for any students to arrive just yet, but she’d wanted to get there early.  That way she’d be settled in and ready for whatever this day was going to be.  She’d been mulling over what she was supposed to do when the students got here for so long that she’s not sure when she’d wandered to the window and began to watch the scene below.

Outside, Inumaki is standing on the steps with three students- probably his students- and he’s making various rapid hand movements.  Wait, was that sign language? She was on the second story, so even if she’d opened the window she probably wouldn’t have heard what they were talking about, but even without listening in, it seemed that the students understood their teacher perfectly.

She was certain he hadn’t used any sign language yesterday, she tried to recall the events of the day, but it was so fast paced and confusing from start to finish that she just couldn’t remember any communications from Inumaki’s end.

Besides a sarcastic chuckle.

“Are you (y/l/n)-senpai?” 

She almost jumps as she turns around, not having heard the footsteps approaching the classroom.

There stood two students, a boy and a girl, each wearing the same uniform.  The familiar black jackets and crisp slacks had her stomach knotting up with the realization of what she was doing here.

“Just (y/l/n),” She corrects, her voice sounding a bit strained.  She clears her throat before any more weird sounds could be made.  “I’m not your teacher, I’m just… filling in” 

“So… like a substitute teacher?” The boy deadpans.

Great.  He’s got an attitude.  If only she were Mai, she’d have that snark smacked out of his tone with one, well, smack.

“Hardly.  More of a supervisor,” (y/n) replies with a tight lipped smile.  “So… what is it you’re working on right now?” 

“Cursed techniques” The girl replies.  Her voice is much softer than her snarky little friend.  There’s a politeness in it that (y/n’s) grateful for.  She’s not really looking for these kids to respect her, but if they were nice it’d definitely make the next couple weeks go by smoothly.

“Easy enough,” (y/n) shrugs.  “Why don’t you explain your techniques to me and we’ll go from there” 

As she should have expected, it was not easy enough.  All those two did was argue, and when they weren’t arguing, they were struggling through their cursed techniques like a five year old getting their training wheels taken off.  If that five year old was blind and toppled off the bike and broke both legs in the process.  (y/n) found herself ready for a beer by lunchtime, and she wasn’t even sure if there was any alcohol on campus.  She’d have to do a grocery run later for some necessities.  If every day was going to be like this, she’d need a twenty-four pack.

She’d come out to the lawn for her lunch break, a blank notebook and pen in hand with the hopes of drawing up some kind of lesson plan.  A grocery list seemed more like the pressing matter now, though.

It must just be a spacey day for her, because when Inumaki Toge approaches the table, she realizes she hadn’t noticed him until he was standing right there before her.  His hand is in his pocket, and despite his face being half covered, she can tell he’s wearing a kind look.

Not knowing how she felt about him yet, she shifts in her seat on the bench.  She’s sure it’s rude to stare, and it’s dumb to expect him to explain what he wanted, but she’s not sure what to say either.

“Mustard leaf?” 

Huh?

Her confusion must’ve been evident, because Inumaki pulls his hand out of his pocket and points at her notebook and pen.

“Oh,” She mumbles absentmindedly, before passing the pen and paper to him.  “Is that how you ask for things?” 

She cringes at her own question, and if she wasn’t already embarrassed she would have smacked her hand to her head, too.  Inumaki doesn’t seem bothered though, as he just nods his head and begins to write in her notebook.

When he hands it back to her he keeps hold of her pen.  Was this his way of trying to have a conversation? This time she’s not stupid enough to actually ask that, but her curiosity gets the best of her as she grabs the notebook to read what he wrote quickly.

Hi.

Her eyes flicker between the page and him a few times, disbelief turning her lips into a small smile.

“Hi…” She replies, quieter than intended.

Inumaki chuckles, and beckons her to pass the notebook back to him.  (y/n) has a feeling the rest of her lunch hour would look like this.  This time she watches him as he scrawls on the page again, and this time it seems he’s writing more than two letters.

With his attention on his writing, she doesn’t feel so worried about staring at his bright violet eyes.  The last time she’d really gotten a good look at them was five years ago, and she was sure she’d never seen anyone with eyes quite like his.  That still holds true.

Inumaki passes the notebook back again.

Are you having a good first day? 

She snorts, and Inumaki takes that to mean it wasn’t a great start.

“I couldn’t have been more clear that I wasn’t meant to be a teacher,” (y/n) shakes her head, and leans back a bit into the bench.  Inumaki’s eyes shift to the space next to her, and she finds herself shifting to make room for him to sit.  He doesn’t need a verbal offer in order to sit beside her.  “I don’t understand how anyone could enjoy this”

Inumaki holds his hand out for the notebook once more, and (y/n) passes it to him.  She wonders if he ever got tired of communicating like this.  But just as the question passes her mind, she’s sure he’s grown used to the exhaustion of living this way long ago.  So she begins to wonder when he began to accept it.  As he writes, she realizes she actually has a lot of curiosities surrounding him.

The old bitterness begins to chip away the more she lets her mind wander.  Maybe that bitterness was childish and stupid, anyways.  Or, maybe it was just that she was a child when that grudge had taken form.

Toge passes her the notebook again.  She can’t see that he’s smiling, but there’s crinkles at the corners of his eyes that tell her he must be.

Have you tried drinking on the job? 

(y/n) glances between the note and Toge, who seems to be barely holding it together behind his mask.  It’s not until she lets out the faintest of laughs that he begins to cackle, shaking his head asif to say ‘I’m just kidding!’ as though she couldn’t have put that together.

Maybe Inumaki Toge wasn’t at all who she thought he was.  

It sort of turned out that she hadn’t known him at all.

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It didn’t take long for a little routine to be established.  It seemed to have happened without anyone’s say in it.  (y/n) would find a spot for lunch and Inumaki just seemed to gravitate towards that spot.  They’d eat their lunches and grade papers together while passing a notebook back and forth for communication, and it just seemed to… work.  

Some days (y/n) would even write her responses underneath his own written words.  Sometimes it just seemed like the fair thing to do, but she couldn’t deny, the peace and quiet could be nice.

Toge has to tap the end of his pencil against the table a few times to get (y/n) to snap out of her brain fog and finally notice the note he’d written her.  She gives him an apologetic look once consciousness had brightened her eyes again, before directing her attention to the notebook.

Toge smiles to himself, already going back to the paper he was grading.

I’ve got an assignment in Yokohama later.  Just a Grade Two though.  Want to come with? :)

(y/n’s) brow lifts in his direction, but he’s too busy reading one of his students’ work to notice.  Her eyes only liner for a few extra seconds before she makes a hum to get his attention.  He mimics the hum.

“All this work aging you faster? Is that what you’re telling me?” She asks.  Her finer absentmindedly taps at his neat handwriting.  “Can’t handle assignments alone anymore?” 

Inumaki scoffs, his eyes briefly flickering away from his work, just long enough to show his lack of amusement with her dry form of teasing.  He doesn’t get much more done before he’s bringing their talking notebook back to his side of the table and writing in it again.  (y/n) doesn’t bother to go back to her own work.  After five days of this little routine she’s come to realize this block of time in her day wasn’t meant for getting work done.  It was meant for… 

She gets the feeling Inumaki’s smiling to himself under his collar.

… whatever this was.

He looks up at her when he’s finished, catching her eyes already on him, and he’s sure that she blushes just a little bit, but any trace of it is gone when she reaches over for the notebook and lifts it to read.  A strategic choice to cover the lower half of her face.  Toge tries not to feel too defeated, it’s only fair after all.

I meant to hang out, dummy.  I don’t mean to brag you’d only slow me down out there.  But I do know a great tea shop.

She’s glad that the notebook hides her face, because she can’t have him seeing how quickly a few words can make her smile.  Only of course because she doesn’t want him getting the wrong idea.

There’s been a few occurrences of that feeling in the past couple days of spending her lunch breaks with Inumaki.  An odd feeling, like there’s a lump in her throat, but her heartbeat starts to get ahead of itself.  It’s like adrenaline, but seemingly without a cause.  So far she’d been able to brush the feeling off, trying not to think too much of it.

“You would be grateful if you had a partner like me out there,” She says matter of factly, before dropping the notebook back on the table.  “Sending you on a Grade Two mission, you almost have to wonder if the higher ups think you’re slow enough on your own?”

That earns her another scoff, this time accompanied by an even longer blank stare.  She has to bite back her smile before it can grow too wide, but she can’t help a little laugh at his uninterested expression.  For as much of a jokester as Inumaki was, he sure didn’t react when he was the one being teased.

“Yeah yeah, I hear you,” (y/n) huffs, finally looking back at her stack of papers that she should’ve graded by now.  “Tea does sound good.  Let me know when you’re headed out later” 

Again, she ignores the fluttery feeling when they swap phones to exchange numbers so they could form a plan later.  It was unrelated, she’s sure.  But she’s still not so sure what that feeling was all about to begin with.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

There was a skip to Inumaki’s step that couldn’t go unnoticed, especially not by his colleagues, who happened to watch him heading out to the courtyard and decided to involve themselves without even a single word shared.

“I’ve never seen you off to a mission so jazzed!” Itadori practically sings, his grin wide, his eyebrows dancing, oh, he’s so onto him.

“Bonito flakes” 

“So you didn’t brush your hair before going on an assignment?” Panda accuses, but his paw gets swatted away before he can run his hand through the luscious blonde locks of perfectly clean and dried hair.  

No one showers before an assignment.  What’s the point?

“Bonito flakes!” Toge repeats himself a little louder this time, his eyes darting around the area to be sure no one else was around to hear this interaction.

This doesn’t go unseen by his friends- who seem extra persistent on bothering him today.

“Oh wow! So it’s like a… date assignment?” Itadori asks.  He makes the extra effort to also ensure no one else was lingering around, his grin only growing as he checks over both shoulders before lowering his voice.  “That sounds hot, good for you man” 

Toge rolls his eyes, then shakes his head.

“What are you up to then?” Panda asks.

“It’s not a date?” Itadori’s grin falls into a frown.

Toge’s hand moves in a swift motion, from a fist with his thumb jutted out to his palm up so quick if you’d blink you would’ve missed it.  Somehow he’d managed to pour as much attitude into his signed question of ‘how?’ in one little hand movement as possible.  It’s clear it works too, because Panda winces and Itadori begins to scratch the back of his neck.

Sure, Inumaki had been excited to spend some time with (y/n) away from the school.  Maybe he had taken a shower before his assignment, so what? It was normal to want to be presentable right? He just wanted to be decent company…

“Oh, you’ve got it bad!” Panda hollers, not seeming to care that his voice booms and echos off the high ceiling, likely bouncing down all the corridors for anyone to hear.

Today, Toge is grateful that jujutsu society is dying.

“Bonito flakes!” He hisses, smacking his bear friend as hard as he could.  It wasn’t hard enough, as the belting laughter was even louder than his voice.

“Not too hard to find you guys, huh?” 

Toge doesn’t hide the fact that he nearly leaps out of his skin as he swivels around to see (y/n) standing there, an amused look on her face as she eyes the laughing pair, before turning towards the cursed speech user with a more curious expression.  Being a sorcerer of his caliber, she was surprised she was able to startle him at all.  But it’s clear when his eyes first land on her, it’s as if he’s seen a ghost.

He’s quick to calm down, relaxation returning to his shoulders and the only tension remaining in his body coming from the worry that his so called friends were going to say something stupid like- 

“Wow you’re in uniform! Haven’t seen Toge take up a partner in a while.  Unless Yuuta’s around,” Panda says, and (y/n) merely shrugs, looking over her usual attire.  “You’re probably a better date than Yuuta, though” 

“Ikura” Toge hisses, side eyeing his oldest friend with a look in his eye warning him that his next words wouldn’t be rice ball ingredients.

“I think Yuuta would be a good date” Yuji said thoughtfully, eyes wandering about as though he were really considering the date-ability of the older sorcerer.

It does the trick in moving the group’s attention away from the previous awkward thing, this one being far more enticing to latch onto, and while normally Toge would participate in the goofing off, at the moment he can only feel relief that (y/n) hadn’t seemed to dwell on the ‘date’ comment.

“He’d be a good date if he could sit down for long enough to actually date” Panda replies, and it’s not long before he and Yuji have launched themselves into an argument about it.

In the heat of the fight, (y/n’s) eyes catch Toge’s, and it only takes one motion of her head before they’re both speeding out of there.

“I didn’t realize they were crushing on Okkotsu so hard,” She’s the first to speak, once they’re far enough away there’s no chance of anyone overhearing.  “If I knew him better I would’ve given my two cents” She added in a near mutter, clearly meant for her own amusement under her breath, but Toge heard and asked about it anyways.

“Mustard leaf?” 

“Like I said, I don’t really know the guy-” She started to protest, but Toge clearly had invested an interest in her opinion.

“Mustard leaf mustard leaf mustard leaf-” 

“Alright!” She has to shout over his incessant pestering.  “He seems like a good guy and all but he’s not… my preference in company.  Is that good enough?” 

His collar is zipped up as per usual, but his cheeky grin seems to permeate through it anyways.  (y/n) has to roll her eyes to remind him just how ridiculous of a conversation this was.  Reiterating the fact that she’d barely met Okkotsu Yuuta once didn’t seem to do the trick in explaining that she couldn’t exactly form an opinion on him when they hadn’t even been introduced to one another, merely crossed paths back in the day when the end of the world seemed to closing in.

“Salmon cod roe” 

But the world hadn’t ended.  And now somehow, she found herself here.  Teaching in Tokyo, and keeping the company of a cursed speech user from the notorious Inumaki Clan.  And… she enjoyed herself.

She hoped it didn’t show too much, keeping her expression neutral on the ride to Yokohama as Toge scrolled through the case file of his assignment.  Occasionally he’d tilt his phone in her direction so she could read up on it as well, sometimes she’d give him her thoughts on it, but the few words that came out were nothing compared to the calculations she was making behind her eyes.  He could tell just from the look in her eyes that she had more plots in her mind than the small things she shared.

Toge wondered if she was always silent when she schemed, or if this was her attempt at not overstepping a non-existent boundary.  Truthfully, he would’ve loved to hear her thoughts on how best to exorcize this curse.  He would have found a way to ask her, but he didn’t want all of their conversation tonight to revolve around work.  Jujutsu, curses, and everything in between was on the back burner for now.  Or at least, once he wrapped up this assignment.

And as expected, the assignment took less time than the time they spent traveling.  (y/n) barely got a good look at the Grade Two before it was told to drop dead and- well, it dropped dead.  She didn’t exactly expect Inumaki to need any assistance, he’d made it pretty clear that her company wasn’t needed on the assignment.  However, seeing him in action up close was…

It’s just that she’d somehow let herself forget just how powerful the Inumaki Clan was.  Maybe she’d separated Toge from the rest of the clan in her mind, but watching him exorcize a curse and then zip up his collar again in the matter of a minute and a half was…

She has to clear her throat and make herself appear busy checking the content of her purse as they leave the site.  The heart of Yokohama, and the tea shop, was a little bit of a walk.  Luckily Inumaki was busy gulping down two- no, three- bottles of cough medicine.  By the time the third is gulped down, (y/n) finds her voice.  Her thoughts, however, are still a bit muddled.

“Do you want to stop for another?” She asks, gesturing to the empty mini bottle he’d just shoved into his pocket.  “Looks like there’s a convenience store right here” 

His eyes follow her gaze, but there’s an uncertainty in them as he seemingly ignores the offer.

“What?” (y/n) frowns as they grow nearer to the store without planning on stopping in.  “Clearly your throat hurts, since you’re throwing back that medicine like it’s tequila” 

That earns her a curious look, a raised eyebrow questioning her choice of drink.  But this time, it’s her turn to ignore him.

“C’mon, we’ll be quick” She says, turning to head into the store with or without him.

Toge huffs, but finds his feet dragging behind her path anyways.

(y/n) hovers around as Toge picks up two more bottles of cough syrup.  She makes a face when he chooses bubblegum, her nose wrinkling at the all-too childish choice.  Toge’s question of her disgust doesn’t need to be voiced with a rice ball ingredient.

“Bubblegum?” She asked, eyes locking on the medicine in his hand before looking up at him again.  “Are you five?” 

His eyes roll, but it’s quick enough that he’s still able to catch the smile she’s trying to bite back.

She might not have his little language perfectly translated in her mind, but she has a pretty good feeling that he’s cursing her out with a few muttered ikuras under his breath.  She barely hides her laughter as she follows him to the counter.

It’s hard not to notice the way the clerk stares.  She knows they’re not trying to be rude, they are an odd pair at the counter.  In matching black uniforms and three arms between them- not to mention Toge’s in a collar that makes him look like he could be casing the joint- but still, something unsettles her the longer the girl on the other side of the counter stares.

Knowing that saying something about the staring would make things worse, she decides to keep her mouth shut as Toge exchanges the money for his medicine.  But that doesn’t mean she’s not making a perfectly clear point by staring down the cashier with an intensity she’s only ever felt while staring a curse straight in it’s soulless eyes.  She gets a much more pleasing reaction from the non-sorcerer though.  As soon as their eyes cross paths, they’re much quicker in retrieving Toge’s change and receipt.  (y/n) can’t help the smug smile on her face once they’re able to turn and leave the store, the clerk barely able to mumble out a ‘have a good night’.

Toge may have had a small bit of tunnel vision opening up his medicine and chugging down the relieving, bubblegum tasting fluid.  But he was a trained jujutsu sorcerer, he could tell when there was suspicious activity in his peripherals.  And (y/n’s) fixed gaze on the corner store’s window was rather odd.

He gives her a look, but she’s more focused than he had been, and it takes a small nudge to her elbow to disconnect her hunter’s glare.

“What?” She asks, innocent and curious.

With his collar unzipped from his earlier medicine-chugging, she can see the awkward smile he wears as he questions her silently.  She knows what he’s trying to ask, but she feigns confusion and tries to brush off the moment.  Inumaki lets her, but only on the condition that she seems to give him the attention she’d previously fixed on the store.

With his throat feeling healed and the pleasantness of bubblegum replacing the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, Toge continues on their walk towards the tea shop he’d been looking forward to all day.  One cup of tea from there would do better work than five bottles of cough syrup- no matter the delicious pink flavor.

(y/n) tries to put the experience at the corner store behind her as they walk in a comfortable silence.  It wasn’t her place to take offense from the staring anyways, she’s sure Inumaki’s been on the receiving end of odd looks and lingering eyes his whole life.

Still, it makes her uneasy to think about him being treated differently than anyone else.  It wasn’t fair.

Wanting to put an end to their silence, Inumaki pulls out his phone and starts typing.

[inumaki toge]: the least you could do is be the chatty one btw

(y/n) feels the buzz of a notification in her pocket, but she pays it no mind at all.  It takes a laugh and a nudge from Inumaki for her to realize he’s the one texting her, and she laughs awkwardly with him as she pulls her phone out.

They continue to text rapidly back and forth as they walk.

[y/n]: it’s rude to text when you have company btw 

[inumaki toge]: would u rather i just curse u then

[y/n]: would U rather i just DIE then ?? 

[inumaki toge]: ur just grouchy that u didn’t get to exorcize that curse :p

She looks up at him then, fixing him a glare that just couldn’t have been conveyed the same way from an emoji.  He stares back at her for a minute, a smile that was a little too cocky on his face.  Her hard set eyes wander his face for a moment, she’d still never gotten used to seeing those markings on display, but the furrow in her brow remained.

He turns away to type again, and seconds later her phone vibrates in her hands.

[inumaki toge]: i looked pretty cool tho didn’t i? was i impressive? i’m thinking about being the first jujutsu influencer.

She barks out a laugh so unexpected that they both share the same look of surprise on their faces.  A softer, more bashful laugh comes out at her as she nods her head in confirmation.

“Yeah, Inumaki.  You looked very cool” Even the word comes out like it’s an immature compliment, but a compliment nonetheless.  He beams back at her.

[inumaki toge]: just toge.

“Okay” (y/n) nods at her phone, her lips moving like she’s going to call him by his preferred name, but no sound comes out, and she finds herself closing her mouth just as quickly.

[inumaki toge]: otherwise i’ll feel like ur teacher.  and that’s weird.

“Well, to be fair, you’re sort of my teacher,” She says, turning away from her phone to speak directly to him.  “You know, you’ve taught me how to teach,” She clarifies.  With an absent mind she tucks her phone back into her pocket.  “I know I agreed to it and all, but I probably would’ve walked out a few days ago if it weren’t for you.  I definitely don’t have the patience for this job- or any qualifications, actually,” 

Toge snorts and shakes his head with his disbelief in her.  She might not have sought out this job, but she didn’t have to be so hard on herself.

“Seriously, I think my students would have killed each other if it weren’t for your guidance.  Now they actually… almost tolerate each other.  It’s a miracle, really” 

Inumaki types on his phone again.

[inumaki toge]: don’t give us too much credit.  that would’ve happened eventually

“You think?” (y/n) scoffs, recalling how her pair of students were at each other’s throats when she met them.

[inumaki toge]: ofc.  they’re crazy about each other XD

“What!?” (y/n) shrieks as her eyes scan over his text a few more times before turning to him.  “Did you get cursed back there or something?” She accuses, a wild look in her eye and a grin of disbelief on her lips.  But a smile nonetheless, Toge returns it.  “They can’t stand each other!” 

He shrugs a shoulder, his smile softening with his gaze as he watches her struggle to understand where he was coming from.

“You know I don’t let them spar with each other right? They’re too rough! They’ll hurt each other more than they could get hurt out on an assignment” 

Toge chuckles, his teeth showing through his grin as he shakes his head at her before sending another message.  His amusement practically glowed through his features, so much so (y/n) couldn’t tear her eyes away from him while he was texting.

[inumaki toge]: sounds like rising tension to me~ 

[inumaki toge]: fr tho they had a thing for each other before you took over for fushiguro.  they’re at each other’s throats 24hrs a day but only cuz they got it bad.

“Got it bad?” (y/n) repeats in a mumble to herself.  She gives him a deadpan look, silently telling him she thought he was an insane person, but Toge only grins back at her.

“Salmon cod roe” He shrugs again, but before the conversation could go any further, he’s pointing to their destination and they’re crossing the street.  

As they enter the tea shop, (y/n) makes a mental note not to forget what he’d said.  Maybe she would feel differently when she saw her students tomorrow.  Inumaki- Toge- had known them longer than her, maybe he was onto something.

It’s pretty quiet inside, only a few other people sitting around the small cafe.  Some with company, talking quietly so as not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere for the others dining alone, accompanied only by a book or their studies.  The quietness, surprisingly, isn’t unsettling to (y/n).  She actually smiles contentedly as they find a two-seated table near the window.  There’s menus already placed at the table, although small, their detailing is adorable.  (y/n’s) compelled to pick one up and scan over it, despite having known exactly what she was going to order before walking in.

Toge lifts the other menu off the table, just enough to appear as though he was giving it a glance, but anyone paying attention would have seen that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of his company since they’d sat down.

“I think I’ll just get what I- what?” 

(y/n) starts to speak, but when she lifts her gaze from the paper she finds Toge staring at her so blatantly she can’t be bothered to finish her thought.  Her voice softens upon catching his eyes, suddenly nervous, although she can’t explain why, perhaps she’d just worried that she’d disturbed the quiet peace of the shop.

Toge shakes his head, assuring her there was nothing on his mind, and while she relaxes some knowing that he wasn’t trying to silently warn her about some unknown rule of speaking, her heart had yet to stop skipping every other beat as she waits for the rest of the explanation as to why he’d been staring.

He opens his mouth, and for a second the both of them almost forget.  Forget that he’s not going to say something of substance, something real.  They both wait for that split second for him to say what’s on his mind.  And they share a sheepish smile when he closes his mouth again, biting his lip before the smile could do a 180 and kill the vibe.

(y/n) winces for him when his eyes return to the menu, and she watches his hand reach for the zipper to his collar.  She’s compelled to tell him to leave it open- although she doesn’t find the courage for such words before a waitress strolls by for their order.

Toge points to the tea he wants on the menu, and she finds herself following suit when it’s her turn to order.  She can feel his eyes on her, wide with surprise as she wordlessly places her order, but once the waitress disappears, it’s silent between them again.

She struggles to look at him, not because she doesn’t want to, but because she can’t help herself from doing so.  He’d closed his collar only halfway, barely enough to cover the markings on his face, and yet enough to reveal whenever he smiled or winced or frowned.  Her eyes keep wandering around the room before going back to him, again and again, each time looking somewhere new.  The smallest peek of black ink near his mouth, the wisps of blonde hair that fell at the tips of his ears, the violet eyes that seemed to hold all the words his mouth couldn’t say.  Maybe that’s why it was so hard to look at him- it was the intensity.

“You’re being really quiet” She says after a few minutes of looking and looking away.  Toge’s stunned for a moment, before a laugh bursts through at the odd comment.  

The corner of her lips twitch momentarily, proud of her attempt to make him laugh working.

He pulls his phone out, laying it on the table to type easier with one hand, poking about on the screen like a child learning how to use a keyboard.  (y/n) pulls her own phone out as she awaits his message, but she keeps her attention on him as she does.  With his focus on the screen, there’s less of an intensity for her to stare into.

[inumaki toge]: found this place on an assignment here last year.  the tea is magic.  better than rct

“That so?” (y/n) hums as she’s typing back a response.  Toge hums in confirmation.  She doesn’t realize that as she types, he keeps his attention on her, just as she’d done for him.

[y/n]: i’ve ordered the same thing since i was a kid, so hopefully it doesn’t disappoint 

[inumaki toge]: that’s a lot of pressure to put on tea

[y/n]: no, the pressure is all on you 

[inumaki toge]: so it’s my fault if you don’t like the same cup of tea you’ve had all your life? 

“Mhm” (y/n) hums, lifting her head from the screen to catch his reaction, only again to find him already staring at her.  

The amused smirk she’d been wearing as they texted back and forth faltered, replaced by a soft surprise that Toge grew quite fond of seeing on her, even for a moment.  He doesn’t think about how his gaze is so obviously focused on her lips, because he doesn’t really think about anything at all.  With a blank mind he’s able to better appreciate her beauty.

(y/n’s) not sure what the look on his face means, she’s not able to read it as well as she’s typically able, and the realization makes her nervous again.  She can feel warmth spreading in her cheeks, and a similar feeling spiking in her chest.  What was that? 

Toge’s eyes shift up to hers, and he lets himself enjoy the way she sits there with her own eyes so wide he knows she’s waiting for him to explain the long silent stare.  Momentarily, he’s grateful for an ability such as his.  He doesn’t have to deliver an explanation in a timely manner, if at all.  He could keep on staring, and try his best to communicate his train of thought with his eyes alone.

“So… how much sign language do you know?” (y/n) asked, her voice quieter than she intended it to be.  

It can’t be explained, but everything suddenly feels more intimate now.  Like if she were to speak in a volume above a whisper, the rest of the world would come back into view.  But the rest of the world remains a watercolor background, and all she knows is sitting at this table.

Toge flattens his hand and shakes it back and forth, indicating a little, before he quickly types at his phone.

[inumaki toge]: learning a little here and there.  for the kids really.  panda is trying too.

(y/n) nods.  “Is there anything worth teaching?” 

Toge smiles, and for a few minutes he shows her a few motions for her to repeat before he texts her their meaning.  She gets the basics down pretty easy, such as introductions and greetings.  He doesn’t know how much he should teach her, but soon enough the waitress is returning with their tea and the topic moves on to something new again anyways.

He waits to take a sip of his, too curious to watch (y/n’s) first reaction to her own drink.

There’s something so plainly pretty about the picture before him that if it wouldn’t be odd, he would raise his phone and snap the picture to retain it’s memory in a physical form.  The way she captivates his entire attention has him feeling like he’s seventeen again.  Some of it might have to do with the warm lighting, the quiet atmosphere, but his thoughts are on such a simple track of adoration that he doesn’t think too much about how pretty her hands look gently wrapped around the mug- just that they are pretty.  

She’s pretty.  

And he’s… a goner.

She’s smiling when she lowers her drink after a sip, and Toge releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“It’s good,” She voices her opinion after a moment, her hands still wrapped around the mug even as she rests it on the table.  “Definitely worth the trip out here.  Even if I didn’t get to have any of the fun” 

The movement of Toge’s hand is quick, as he gestures downward before tapping his nose and repeating the same motion.  He does it a second time just for the emphasis of trying to communicate something to her.  It takes her a moment to understand, but despite having a very minimal understanding of sign language, she comes to her conclusion quicker than he would have thought.

“Fun,” She repeats the motion he’d made, two fingers tapping her nose before bringing her hand downwards towards the table.  Toge nods in affirmation, a smile breaking across his face at her quick wit.  “This is fun?” She makes her guess at what he’d said, and his smile only widens as he nods again.  “This is fun,” The second time she repeated it was to reaffirm the motion in her mind, hoping a mental note would help her remember the small bit of signing for later.  

Then, for a third time, she quietly repeats “This is fun”, and Toge seems to understand that she was agreeing with his statement.  This is fun.  They’re having fun.  Together.  Like this.

It’s quiet between them as they sip their tea, but it’s not an awkward silence.  It’s comfortable, sitting together in the quaint shop and enjoying their warm drinks.  Time seems to fly by even without conversation, and they find themselves paying and leaving before they know it.

There seems to be no rush on their walk to the train station.  Neither of them even bother to check the schedule on the way.  Tokyo would be there no matter what time they returned, they were sure.

The silence lingers for a bit longer, but eventually Toge can’t help but pull out his phone and strike up a conversation.

[inumaki toge]: maybe next time i’ll let you do the exorcizing 

(y/n) shoots him a look when she reads his text, her brow raised but the rest of her face so expressionless it’s hard for him to get a read on what she’s thinking.  He’s starting to get the feeling that she likes it that way.

[y/n]: next time? 

He doesn’t need to text her when he can just nod his head.  Her lips twitch, but she manages to keep them in a straight enough line that he still can’t tell what she’s thinking about.  Nonetheless, he beams back at her, and he holds her stare for a moment longer than he should have before he’s texting her again.

[inumaki toge]: you seem thrilled

(y/n) lets out a dry laugh at the equally dry message.

“I’m only around a couple more days,” She replies, and the disappointment Toge feels is immediate and obvious in the way he deflates.  Still, she continues to explain, “Tokyo might have a curse issue, but it can’t be so bad they have to send their best and brightest every night, hm?” 

There’s hesitation in his eyes as he thinks about what he should type out next.  (y/n’s) grown rather patient with the way he communicates, so she doesn’t seem to realize that his silence isn’t due to the limitations of Cursed Speech.

Even once he begins typing, his thumb is slow.

[inumaki toge]: you’d be surprised.  tokyo might need a little extra help

He glances over at her as she reads his message, and his thumb begins to type out a second message before she could reply first.

[inumaki toge]: you could always stay a little longer

Again, he watches her as she watches her screen.  Where her thumbs had previously hovered over her keyboard, she moves them away now.  Leaving no intention of texting back a response.  Toge feels the pace of his heart begin to slow as the organ plummets to his stomach.  Suddenly filled with dread, he fixates his stare on the station ahead of them.  He thinks if he were to look at her now, when she’s so clearly rejected the idea, that she would see the disappointment on his face.

Without a word or text shared, the pair get inside and track down the evening schedule.  Toge’s pretty sure that there’s a faster pace to her steps than before.  The dread only worsens at the thought that suddenly she’s in a rush just to wait for a train.

Once they’re stopped again, (y/n) lets out a sigh and turns towards him.  He waits for her to begin her explanation, her rejection, but it takes a few more seconds before she actually voices her thoughts.

“It’s not a surprise… right?” Is the first thing she slowly says, and Toge can’t say he understands what she means.  He can’t really say anything, but this is different.  “I mean, I agreed to two weeks, you were there,” 

His brows furrowed into a bored look, and she winced.

“And I told you I wasn’t cut out for the whole teaching thing, I’ve barely been getting by- and I might hate it sometimes but I do miss assignments you know” 

In a stressed, jerky movement, Toge raises his phone and shakes it, reminding her of the offer he’d just given her.  (y/n) frowns, and he groans as he types a quick text.

[inumaki toge]: if you really wanted, you could take assignments here

He can tell it doesn’t make a difference when her face doesn’t change upon reading it.  He huffs again, a muttered “Ikura” under his breath, which she hears and bristles up to right away.

“Hey,” The offense in her tone is clear, and Toge’s partially surprised she even understood what he meant.  “I don’t understand why you’re getting upset, I’ve been clear from the minute I got here that I’d be leaving when the time was up.  And time’s up” 

With a glare that he can’t help, Toge texts her again.

[inumaki toge]: you’re not leaving.  you’re running away

“I am not!” She argues, her voice raising more than she wanted it to.  A few other people waiting for the train send the pair a dirty look for disrupting the peace and quiet of an empty train station, but she pays them no mind as she continues arguing.  “I’m going home.  I don’t live here and I don’t want to live here- I didn’t want to be here to begin with, remember?” 

[inumaki toge]: but then things changed.

“No, they didn’t” (y/n) replies, focusing on her screen.

[inumaki toge]: yes they did and you know it

“That doesn’t even matter.  I was never going to stay” 

[inumaki toge]: it does matter.  it matters because you don’t really want to leave, and i really don’t want you to go.

Her head darts upward and she stares at him now, the weight of the confession hitting her harder than either of them would have thought.  Her typical neutral expression is washed away by something else- something serious, and almost concerned.  Her brows are knitted together as she stares at him as if she’s waiting for him to speak.  Eyes round and lips parted around words that aren’t coming to her fast enough, they stand silently and stare at each other.

Before the right thing to say could come to her, the ring signaling the train was pulling in began to go off, and shortly after the train entered the station.  The expected chaos of it all- the screech of metal on metal, the sudden gust of air whipping around hair and clothes- it feels nonexistent as they stand there together.

Nothing happens.  The train comes to a stop, the doors open, and Toge tilts his head to beckon her to follow him onto the car.  (y/n) follows a few paces behind.  An indescribable but momentary paralyzing sensation buzzing through her legs as she forces them to move.

They take their seats, phones in hand but no messages being typed between them.  (y/n’s) leg begins to bounce the longer Toge stares out the window without a thought to share.

She hates the anxious feeling that settles under her skin the longer they sit like this.

“You know…” Her voice is a mumble when she finds the courage to speak, ten minutes into their ride.  “It’s not like I hated my time here,” 

It does the trick in getting him to look at her, at least.  But he makes no effort to text, or sign.  Instead, he just stares blankly, telling her that it wasn’t good enough.  She frowns, holding his stare.

“And it’s not like I’d never come back” 

This time he scoffs, an unamused smile on his face as he shakes his head.  The bitterness wafting off of him is almost as strong as his cursed energy.  Without words, text, or movement, he’s able to say you’re not coming back, as clear as day.

“I would come back,” (y/n) argues quietly, and his violet eyes drift back to her with the realization that she seemed to understand exactly what he was thinking.  If only she would extend the same ability to him, so he wouldn’t have to decipher all the layers of bullshit she uses to cover what she really thinks.  “I would” She says it again, a certainty in her eyes that tells him she’s being sincere.

Toge huffs in defeat, unlocking his phone.

[inumaki toge]: what is it that you’re so insistent to go back to?

He doesn’t mean for it to be a harsh message, but that doesn’t make the blow to her ego any easier.  But she knows he’s not wrong, either.  There’s no family she’s in contact with.  Her work leaves her no time for friendships, either.  She doesn’t even have a pet.  All she has is an undecorated apartment with a fridge that has one box of leftovers that would need to be thrown out upon her return and a perfectly made bed that hasn’t been slept on in weeks- even before she left.

There’s fundamentally nothing for her to go home to.

Her lower lip wobbles, but she’s quick to bite down on it before it could go noticed.  Toge’s pretty sure he knows what he saw, though.

Setting his phone on his leg, he reaches his hand out to her.  His touch is gentle, but apprehensive as he sets his hand on her wrist.  It speaks volumes, though.  She can see, and feel, all of the sympathy he’s trying to communicate.  With a short squeeze, he pulled his hand away again, much too soon, but he’d said exactly what he needed to say with that movement alone.

Why can’t you stay?

Her mouth opens, “of course I can’t stay!” sitting right at the tip of her tongue, but this time she’s the one with the Cursed Speech, and she couldn’t possibly say it out loud.  But it’s there, they both know it’s there, they can practically see it.

(y/n) shuts her mouth, wobbly lips forming into a frown upon seeing Toge’s disappointment in her silence.

She’s known him all of two weeks, and his disapproval wrecks her.

“I…” It’s broken, hardly a word, hardly a syllable, but it’s a start.  “What would that say?” 

His brows twitch, then draw together.  Confusion, maybe concern, is written all over him as his eyes wander her features, doing their best to understand her.  She doesn’t make it any easier on him.

With a slight shake of his head, he gives in and asks her what she means.

“If I stayed, just cause- just- just on a whim, for no reason other than-” 

She’s stammering, hardly making sense, and she’s just barely managed to keep her voice down so as not to draw attention from the other passengers scattered around.  But even she has to cut herself off before she could say something that could embarrass herself.  Although, if she were honest with herself, that ship had sailed.

Toge tilts his head, prompting her to finish her thought, but the longer he sits, and stares, and waits, the more (y/n) seems to withdraw.  Her mouth shuts, her brows seem to fall, and he worries that means she’ll be keeping the rest of her thoughts to herself.  He frowns at her, his curious look turning pointed to voice his irritation.

(y/n) figures she could either find another way to explain herself, or she could be grateful that the train was pulling into their station now and she could let the conversation die within this car when she hops out.

The screeching halt followed by the squeak and cry of the doors sliding open is rough on the ears but (y/n) couldn’t have been more relieved as she shoots up from the seat and rushes out of them.

The unsaid words aren’t forgotten, they couldn’t be when they’re tethered to the both of them, following them off the train and through the station.  It doesn’t matter how her stride races past his, the invisible chain still lingers.

She’s not winded from how quick she’s walking- of course not she’s a trained sorcerer- but somehow she’s not taking in air fast enough and she finds her chest rising and falling with short gasps of breath barely relieving her for a second at a time before she’s struggling to gulp down another.

Toge lets her storm off for a few paces.  Whether it’s because he wants her to get it out of her system, or if he needed his own train of thought to catch up with his actions, he couldn’t be sure.  But at some point following after her wasn’t enough.

(y/n) chokes mid breath when she’s halted from speed walking any further.  A hand latches around her wrist, and she has the audacity to look shocked when she’s whirled around.

“Toge!” She shouts, and they both seem to wince at the realization that it’s the first time she’s called him by his first name.

His brows are drawn together, and his eyes shift between hers and the arm he’s holding a few times before he lets her go.  He expected her to huff and take off again.  Maybe she’d speed walk all the way back to Jujutsu Tech, pack her bags, and disappear before the sunrise.

Her hand falls limply back to her side, a visible weight resting on her shoulders as she seems to shrink before him.  It’s odd to see her this way, but he doesn’t know how to communicate it at the moment.

“You barely know me” Her voice isn’t a whisper, but it’s too quiet for Toge’s liking.  He fights the urge to roll his eyes by taking a slow blink.

His hand gestures towards his chest, then taps his head before pointing towards her.  Her lips drop open, but Toge’s quick to repeat the action.  One sharp gesture towards himself, a jerky point at his skull, and then an even more exaggerated point towards her.  His finger stays in her direction until she shuts her mouth again, and he knows she won’t try to argue again.

Did he know everything about her? No.  But right now, it’s what he wanted more than anything.  And if he couldn’t get her to understand that, then he might go crazy.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” She starts, and Toge groans, his head hanging back as he silently curses the clouds.  “No,” She steps forward, reaching towards his arm only to hesitate once she’s close to grabbing him.  “I meant… I meant I don’t understand why” She clarifies.

There’s nothing but softness behind his eyes as he gazes down at her, but the intensity of the violet still has a hitch forming in her throat.  The way he looks at her, as if she hadn’t just tried to storm out on him, positively makes her knees weak in a way that she can no longer ignore.  

That feeling she’s been pushing away, the stuttering heartbeat, the rush of adrenaline, she couldn’t ignore it now if she wanted to.  Not with it reflecting in Toge’s eyes looking directly back at her.

Her own eyes stretch as round as saucers, realization draining her face of color before coming back in a creeping pink blush.  

“And I- I barely know you,” She stammers over her words, but there’s something different in her tone now.  As if she’s trying to convince herself, rather than him.  Toge nods his head from side to side- he can’t argue, but he doesn’t think she wants him to anyways.  “It would just be- ridiculous to stay, out of nowhere, just- just pack up my life and start all over here- I- I’m not even that familiar with Tokyo,” 

He chuckles, amusement flickering in his eyes as he watches her grasp at straws.  A last ditch effort at explaining away the feeling.

“And I’m a shit teacher… those kids will eat me alive if I can’t get my shit together…” Her voice goes quieter as she trails off, glancing away as her eyes search around the empty street for some sort of solution.  “I can’t just uproot my life for you, you know” 

And then (y/n’s) head snaps forward again, noticing much too late the implication of her words.  Toge’s already raising a brow at her choice of words, a shit eating grin splitting his face.

He points his finger to his chest with an attitude that would make her glare at him if she could will the muscles in her face to do so.  But her lips are working on a mind of their own, twitching into a nervous smile.  She has to shake her head to combat the stupid dopey smile on her own face.  It only seems to further Toge’s amusement.

“Don’t- don’t look at me like that!” She’s shouting again, but it’s useless.  She’s already spoken those previously unsaid words, breaking their tether and letting them free for him to have and hold onto.

And hold onto them, he did.

“Salmon~” He sing-songs the riceball ingredient in a knowing, teasing tone.  He enjoys it far too much when her nervous smile makes an attempt at frowning, only for the corners of her lips to wobble and tilt upwards at him again- as if smiling at him came naturally to them.

A breathless, humorless laugh escapes her.  She pushes her fingers against her temples, as if it could bring some sort of peace to her chaotic mind.  She must be going crazy to actually be caving, right?

“I’ve lost my mind” She mumbles out.

Toge rolls his eyes at her dramatics, unable to help it this time.  He brings his hand out to brush his fingers under her chin, just enough to pull her attention back towards him- and returns color to her cheeks once more- before he reaches for one of her hands and pulls it towards him.  Mindlessly, she takes a half step forward.

It’s quiet for a moment.  And it should be uncomfortable, standing in silence in the middle of a sidewalk.  The sun had set a while ago, leaving only the street lamps to illuminate the surrounding area.  There are a few people still out and about, some rushing home late, others strolling casually, but even as people awkwardly sidestep the two of them, it’s hard to really give it much notice.

Not too unexpected, (y/n) breaks the silence first.

“There must be a rice ball ingredient that would tell me what you’re thinking,” She sighs, her nervous smile growing softer, fonder, more sure of itself.

Toge chuckles, and she can’t help but watch his lips tilt into a smile.  The slight dip of skin where his markings are, where a dimple is almost perfectly centered by ink.  Her gaze is as soft as her smile- just as fond, just as sure of herself.

“You know… you’re nothing like I thought you’d be when I first met you” 

“Hm?” Toge hums, his head tilting just slightly.  He already knows that he’s doomed to have a terrible first impression when people meet him.

(y/n) nods, her eyes haven’t torn away from his lips and the markings that frame them yet.

“I thought you were… I dunno, different,” Her own voice lowers to a near hum, something curious lighting up in her eyes.  “I don’t know if you remember, but that exchange event, when we were still students, you made me run away from a fight,” 

Toge nods, recalling the day just fine.  Finally, her eyes flicker back up to meet his.

“I kind of hated you for that you know,” 

It’s not funny, but he’s laughing quietly.  (y/n) doesn’t understand it.  He just shrugs impishly.

“I don’t like being told to walk away from a fight,” She says, a seriousness in her tone that stood out in the otherwise tranquil moment.  “Actually, I don’t really like being told what to do at all,” She adds, almost as an afterthought.

Her eyes shift a few times back to his mouth, she does nothing to hide her glances.

Inumaki’s expression is knowing, she’d made it abundantly clear that she didn’t take direction from others very well, she didn’t have to tell him.  It took him, like, three tries just to get her to go out for tea.

“But…” She sighs through a long exhale, trying to release her pent up nerves.  “If you told me to stay, I wouldn’t really have another choice…” Her words are slow, careful, just like her eyes as she peeks up at him properly.  “Literally” She tacks on at the end with the tiniest of smiles.

Inumaki raises his eyebrows, unable to help the way his lips tilt into a smirk at the idea.  She’s not wrong, if he really wanted her to stay, he had just the right cursed technique to make that happen.  His eyes shift between hers, if only to appreciate the way her impatience becomes her, no matter how hard she’s trying to mask it.

He opens his mouth, takes a breath, and leans down to her height.  (y/n’s) eyes don’t blink once as she’s rendered breathless from anticipation.

Just as it looks like he’s going to say something, she does blink, and she nearly misses it.  Toge’s quick, leaning in swiftly to brush his lips over her cheek in a chaste kiss.  Her eyes are flying open to stare at him in shock when he pulls away just as fast as he’d leaned in.

She opens her mouth to say something- probably some sort of protest out of shock, but no words come out, and there’s no denying that she’s starting to grin.

Toge’s already smiling ear to ear, seemingly proud of himself.  He doesn’t give her any extra time to think of some witty thing to say, either.  Just holds his arm open to drape around her shoulders so that when they continued their walk, she was right next to him.  Still shell shocked, (y/n) finds herself blindly going along with him.  She doesn’t brush off his arm, or speed away, she keeps her pace purposefully in sync with his.  And after a few strides, she’s even closer to him than before.

Their walk is quiet for a while, each too preoccupied by their heads from that one little kiss.

(y/n) was practically derailing- had he really reduced her to this simple state from a kiss on the cheek? Was she actually making a mental checklist for moving preparations? Would she always feel a burst of electricity inside of her when he was close? 

It would take a business day or two for her to regain her composure and open her eyes to what she really wanted.  But Toge was happy to wait, especially when it meant he’d be the one right there when she was ready to admit how she felt.

Speaking off- Toge couldn’t wipe the grin off his face the whole journey back to Jujutsu Tech.  It wasn’t a long walk, but it felt like an eternity when he had the girl of his dreams under his arm, still blushing from one little kiss.

What an excitement it would be to get to do it again, and have her understand him.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did it all, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of what I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

[marble-trees]

The Clench fills me with an indescribable amount of dread /j

[luvsupa]

003 | JEALOUSY?

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, angst, tension, smut, ōral sex + fingering (f!recieving), petnames, revenge sex. don’t know what to add </3, mdni.

w.c: 2.6k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SOSO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS <33

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

you lie in bed, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling, sleep evading you entirely. he floods your mind—lewd images, the sounds, the intoxicating scent that clings to your senses, refusing to leave.

his voice.

sukuna, the king of curses, always knew exactly how to get into your head, how to twist your thoughts until he owned every part of you. you scrunch your face in frustration, knowing he sees you as a plaything—something weak, something to be toyed with.

you glance around the room at the other servants, sleeping peacefully in their single beds, until your gaze lands on yorozu’s bed, neatly made and empty.

a bitter feeling stirs inside you—she had spent the night in sukuna’s bed. yet, even as he fucked her senseless, his attention was entirely on you. his eyes, those cursed, cruel eyes, never left you.

quietly, you rise, slipping on a thin cotton robe. with careful steps, you tiptoe out of the room, the wooden door creaking slightly as it opens. you nearly scream as uraume appears before you, arms crossed, their expression as neutral as ever.

“g-good morning, uraume,” you stammer, bowing slightly in respect.

“the king has requested you clean his chambers,” uraume states, and just hearing his name sends a shiver down your spine. that twisted bastard—he’s trying to get inside your head again.

“tell sukuna i do not wish to see him,” you reply coldly. for the first time, you see a flicker of shock on uraume’s face, their eyebrows raising at your blatant disrespect toward the king of curses.

“now, if you’ll excuse me, i’ll be starting my duties early.” you walk past them without another word, leaving uraume speechless at your audacity as you head toward the garden doors.

the sun peeks over the tall mountains, casting a warm glow over the vibrant garden. you stand for a moment, looking up at the orangey-blue sky, before walking deeper into the garden.

you begin your work alone, plucking ripe fruits and vegetables, making sure everything looks perfect. but then, you freeze.

you can feel his presence, dark and oppressive, lingering somewhere nearby.

your heart races. he’s angry—you know it. you must have upset him by refusing his orders. you keep plucking the fruit, desperately trying to ignore the growing sense of dread as his aura thickens, almost suffocating you.

and then, suddenly, his presence vanishes.

you furrow your brow in confusion, turning to scan your surroundings. nothing. he’s gone just like that?

you try to convince yourself that he’s gone, but before you can fully relax, a rough hand grips your face, yanking you around. your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself face to face with sukuna. he looms over you, taller and more terrifying than you remember, his four eyes glowing with a predatory hunger that makes your blood run cold.

“you thought you could ignore me?” he growls, his voice low, almost a purr, but the underlying threat is unmistakable. his grip tightens, forcing you back against the rough bark of a towering oak tree. he’s so close, his body heat searing into you, his scent, a heady mix of blood and something darkly sweet—overwhelming your senses.

“you think you can defy me, woman?” his voice is deceptively soft, but it only makes the fear coil tighter in your chest. his lips brush against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he inhales deeply, savouring your scent. “you’ve been blocking me out, haven’t you? my clever little girl.”

his words are laced with a twisted kind of praise, but there’s nothing comforting in it. his breath is hot against your skin, his tongue flicking out to trace the shell of your ear, making you squirm involuntarily. his grip on your face is firm, almost possessive, as he presses himself against you, his presence overpowering.

“fuck you,” you manage to spit out, your voice barely more than a whisper, but the defiance in your words only makes him chuckle darkly.

“such a filthy mouth,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. his other hand trails up your neck, his fingers elongating into sharp, black claws that press dangerously against the pulsing vein in your throat. he’s toying with you, every touch calculated to draw out your fear, your arousal.

“so brave, yet you tremble under my touch,” sukuna’s voice is a husky whisper, dripping with sadistic pleasure as he watches your reaction. you hate the way your body responds to him, how the proximity makes your heart race, your thighs press together in a vain attempt to quell the heat building inside you.

his bottom eyes catch the movement, and his lips curl into a knowing smirk. “how delightful,” he sneers, releasing your neck and stepping back, leaving you breathless and trembling against the tree.

sukuna hums, turning to leave without a word, no goodbye, nothing. you’re left standing there, breathless and shaking, knowing you’ll never truly escape his grasp.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the evening buzzes with activity as servants and guards rush to prepare the dining hall for the zenin clan’s arrival. you overhear whispers about toji, the head of the clan, who commands both fear and respect. a secluded home within the estate has been prepared for their stay, a gesture of hospitality from sukuna himself.

you slip into more formal attire, the fabric soft against your skin, when a soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. uraume steps in, their expression unreadable.

“the king—”

“i’ve already spoken to him, uraume,” you interject, catching a flicker of irritation in their eyes.

“the king has requested that you serve the food at dinner for the zenin clan,” uraume continues, their tone firm. your brow furrows in confusion, but before you can protest, they add, “i will not tolerate any disrespect towards sukuna-sama, so i suggest you comply.” with that, they leave, offering no room for argument. you let out a frustrated sigh, knowing sukuna is up to something.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the estate is a flurry of movement as everyone gathers outside to greet the zenin clan. the grand entrance is framed by koi ponds and cherry blossom trees, their petals drifting in the breeze. the noise of the crowd quiets as everyone falls into place, a wide path left clear for sukuna and uraume.

the chatter dies as word spreads that sukuna is approaching. everyone bows as the double doors swing open, revealing sukuna in a black kimono with gold accents, his hair slicked back with a few strands falling against his face.

fuck. he looks so good, you think, your heart skipping a beat.

uraume follows behind him as they move toward their spot at the front. just as sukuna passes by you, your heart clenches. you barely manage to lower your head in respect as you notice his hand intertwined with yorozu’s. she throws a smirk your way, and your eyes flicker between them. a gasp escapes your lips as you catch sukuna’s lower eye locked on you, a smirk playing on his lips as well.

the gates swing open, and the zenin clan’s carriages roll in, the horses' hooves echoing against the stone. the zenin’s guards step out first, followed by a tall, broad man in a black haori. he moves with an air of authority, his eyes locking onto sukuna’s with a tension so thick it feels like the air might crack.

“zenin,” sukuna calls out, their gazes locked in a silent battle for dominance. toji strides forward, his hands casually behind his back, his presence as commanding as sukuna’s.

“ryomen,” toji responds, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. you study him more closely, noting the scar on his lip, the sharpness of his gaze. he catches you staring, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. sukuna’s gaze follows toji’s, his jaw tightening, a vein pulsing at his temple as he harshly releases yorozu’s hand.

“uraume, show our guests to the dining hall,” sukuna orders, his voice low, his breath quickening with barely restrained anger. toji’s eyes flick between you and sukuna, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he catches onto the tension.

as uraume leads toji and the rest of the zenin clan inside, toji deliberately brushes past sukuna, the slight contact sparking a flash of rage in sukuna’s eyes. he clenches his fists, fighting the urge to unleash his wrath, the air around him crackling with suppressed power.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

sukuna, toji, and the rest of the zenin clan settle into the dining room, the air thick with chatter and underlying tension. you stand quietly in the corner behind toji, your gaze drifting to sukuna seated at the other end of the table. yorozu is by his side, her smile wide as she leans into him, desperate for his attention while he pets her head, his eyes never leaving you.

the chefs signal that the food is ready, and you step forward, carrying the largest, heaviest plate. as you approach sukuna, yorozu stifles a laugh, her eyes gleaming with mischief. you carefully place the dish in front of sukuna, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, making your heart race with nervous energy.

you retreat back to your spot behind toji, aware that he’s been watching your every interaction with sukuna. he hums, a smirk tugging at his lips as he senses the tension.

“is the food to your liking, lord zenin?” you ask softly, leaning down so only he can hear. but sukuna’s piercing red eyes catch every movement, his stare burning into you. toji turns to you, his gaze appreciative as he sets his utensils down.

“y’er a cute one, hmm? call me toji, baby,” he purrs, his voice dripping with charm. you smile, flustered by the attention, while across the table, yorozu desperately tries to capture sukuna’s interest, even going so far as to eat from his plate in an attempt to please him.

suddenly, sukuna’s voice booms out, calling your name with a force that silences the entire room. all conversation stops as you freeze, your exchange with toji abruptly cut short. you take a hesitant step toward sukuna’s side of the table, but before you can move any further, toji grabs your arm. you gasp, turning to find him grinning, his eyes alight with mischief.

in one swift motion, toji pulls you into his lap, your squeal echoing in the now-silent dining room. “ryo’, let the girl rest, yeah? workin’ too much, baby, isn’t that right?” he coos, his hand resting possessively on your thigh. sukuna’s expression darkens, his anger barely contained, only held in check by uraume’s firm grip on his shoulder, reminding him of the guests in the room.

the dinner continues, but the atmosphere is charged. sukuna’s eyes never leave you and toji, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. toji, sensing sukuna’s barely restrained anger, keeps pushing, his hands wandering over your thighs, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers sweet, seductive words.

toji takes your hand, kissing it softly, his eyes locked on sukuna’s with a smug, taunting look. sukuna’s fists clench, his entire body tense as he fights the urge to tear toji apart.

“meet me in my chambers,” toji murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. you giggle, caught up in the flirtation, but the sound barely leaves your lips before sukuna abruptly stands, the ancient chair crashing to the floor.

“dinner is over,” sukuna announces, his voice cold and final. confusion ripples through the room as he storms out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. yorozu calls after him, but he doesn’t even glance back, his rage blazing as he disappears from sight.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as nighttime falls, you find yourself at the guest estate just a few minutes from the main one. with a nervous knock, toji answers the door, his grin widening before he pulls you into a deep, feverish kiss. your tongues intertwine, frantic and messy, at the entrance where anyone might witness the two of you.

toji pulls away, his large hand cupping your face. “who is sukuna to you?” he asks, his voice a husky murmur that makes you choke on your saliva, caught off guard.

“h-he’s my king, toji,” you stammer, leaning into his touch, your breath coming fast. he chuckles, a dark glimmer in his eyes.

“i see how he looks at you—he’s always been possessive with… women,” he says, his gaze wandering as a wicked thought forms.

“are you up for something adventurous?” he whispers, his lips trailing fiery kisses down your neck. you tilt your head, desperate for more.

“I want you, toji,” you whimper, and he chuckles, pulling out a black blindfold from his pocket.

was he prepared for this all along?

“may I put this on you?” he asks, his voice dripping with anticipation. you nod eagerly, unable to contain your desire. toji smirks, guiding you to turn around as he binds the fabric over your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

you ache to see him, to watch the way he moves, but the blindfold denies you that pleasure. “we just need to walk a bit, and I’ll give you everything you want,” he promises, his arms lifting you in a bridal style.

the journey feels endless until he finally lays you down on the softest bed you’ve ever felt. he undresses you slowly, making you shiver with anticipation.

toji’s mouth descends on your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples- alternating from each breast.

“n-need you inside me,” you moan, your voice trembling with need. he kisses his way down your body, his lips blazing a trail to your aching cunt.

“such a needy one,” he teases, his voice rough as he slides two fingers through your slick folds. he circles your entrance, collecting your essence before pushing his fingers inside. your gasp is loud, your body arching as he thrusts deep, his fingers curling to hit your sweet spot. the room fills with the wet, lewd sounds of your pleasure.

“you’re drenched,” he growls, sliding his fingers out to deliver a stinging slap to your cunt, making you hiss. he licks his fingers clean, savouring your taste before diving into your pussy with feral intensity. his tongue explores every inch of your velvety walls, making you clench around him.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he groans into your core, the vibrations sending electric jolts through your body. your legs try to close around his head, but he forces them open, his face and the sheets below soaked with your arousal.

“toji, I need you inside me,” you moan, the knot in your stomach tightening, your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“are you out of your fucking mind?”

you freeze.

your heartbeat halts as his voice cuts through the haze. confusion and fear grip you as you realize who’s in the room.

toji doesn’t stop; if anything, he devours you with even more intensity. loud slurping heard from below as you press your hands to your mouth to muffle your cries.

shakily, you pull off the blindfold, blinking against the bright light. below you, toji’s face is a mask of wicked satisfaction, strands of saliva and cum connecting him to your swollen cunt.

your gaze travels to the end of the bed, and your blood runs cold. sukuna stands there, his four arms bulging with veins, his nails longer and sharper than before.

this is sukuna’s room—the very place where he was with yorozu the night before.

your eyes dart between toji and sukuna, realizing you’re in deep trouble. toji orchestrated this, deliberately placing you in sukuna’s room to fuel the tension between them. “m-my lord—” you begin, but toji spits flat on your cunt, slapping it loudly as you moan uncontrollably.

“c’mon, baby—tell ‘kuna how I’m making you feel.”