pspspspspsps here kitty kitty kitty (Joking,... now you laugh) ....
Italian, Fem!Reader, that had traveled briefly to the village, to sell some books, movies, and whatnot -- just to grant the vilagers some sense of like.. the outside world? If that makes sense?
Reader, having already timed their escape, decides to go to that peculiar house up on the hill, across the bridge, before their departure, -- maybe the residents, who, Reader thought, was an old couple, or a very wealthy woman, .. maybe even one of those trust-fund families.. yes! Reader BET that the inhabitant of a place so grand would spend a pretty penny on some foreign knowledge.. maybe, Reader could even upsell. Yes! That would be enough to pay off Readers risky carriage fees.. (nervous laughter)
Reader, ignoring all darkness, all red flags and blatant signs of danger, because, well, Reader is very oblivious, and very optimistic, -- and, well, they barely know English, so, .. how would Reader know what the villagers say about the owner of said.. Oh-so large mansion? Pfft. As if.
'Oh.. its getting dark. Jeez, the trees sure do make this place gloomy!' 'Uhhhh.. why do i have a blaring sense of discomfort, nausea, unease, and a will of fright that makes my stomach churn with instinct to yeet myself the opposite direction? Oh, man, i knew i shouldnt have eaten that un-refrigerated fruit!'
Angie, if i remember that dollies name correctly, answers .. takes one look at Reader, in all of their 'Italian-beauty-standard-fitting', 'italian-book-carrying', 'Donna-language-speaking' glory (Donna language speaking because.. Italian. That was also a joke. Plz laugh), and immidiately, with that screechy voice calls Donna over
Donna fucking FAAAWNNNSSS over everything Reader has, buys their entire stock, then, out of pure gushy-ness, of how nostalgic, and amazing, and flavourful (meaning, how much stuff that Donna was desperately searching for, Reader has in stock) Readers 'for-sales' are, that she, spur-in-the-moment, ushurs Reader inside, makes them tea and whatnot,
well.. so much for Readers plan of escape. Poor bus-maid Reader hired, they thought, as they sat awkwardly beside the lady in black, veiled thickly, who was talking in Italian, since, well, Reader has little to no knowledge of english. Atleast shes also Italian. Thats nice. Wait.. why does Reader feel their cheeks heating up? Gosh, darn it, Reader has read (aha) far too many romance books.
Make it so that, since Reader, who, now, cant escape the Village, since their little plans of flight had been SPOILEDD!! (reference. Chuckles) they stay with Donna, then, after awhile, after teaching Donna everything they know about Italy, and get really comftorable with her, and sees her without her veil on accident, and cooks traditionally, does fucking .. house chores, because, well, they're an unpaying guest in a strangers home, they both start catchin' feelsies and all that sweet stuff. I'll leave the deciding of when and how to you! How generous of me!
(No smut, please. Aroace look'enne for sum intimate, not-so-intimate love. Aha. Joke again. Just a little giggle, please 😨)
Hope ya have an amazing day!! Yes, i know im too descriptive, im just awesome like that. Much apreesh, Anon. 💗
(p.s, thank u blusy 🫂🫂🫂 virtual hugs from italy. ciao bbg.. or.. bbb.. i dont .. i dunno)
Yesss!!!! Well, that was quite long request, but it was funny to write!!! Thank you for sending it and for your funny words!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language(s) mistakes!!!!
Foreign Business
Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Italian! Reader
Warnings: fluff, Donna being Donna
Word count: 8,585
Summary: Should you leave that gloomy village?
N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!!
“17:30, do you hear me?” the young woman driving the small bus said.
You rolled your eyes and nodded, picking up your stuff.
“I don't think it will… How do you say… take long,” you murmured with an innocent smile, taking out your suitcase as best you could, letting it fall into the snow.
“Hey, stranger,” the girl said, with a gloomy look. “You have to pay me now.”
“Cosa? No, I'll pay you when I get back,” you said with a frown, crossing your arms.
“I'm leaving,” the girl whispered, starting the vehicle again.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey! No, no, no…” you said comically running towards the small bus. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Look stranger, it's clear that you have no idea of what’s going on in this place, right?” the driver asked, with a raised eyebrow. You shook your head and smiled innocently.
“Hey, I was invited,” you protested confused, giving up and taking out your wallet.
“Who has invited you?” she wanted to know.
“I have a relative in this country who is also a businessman,” you explained, putting on your coat because of the cold. “He says he is known as… The Duke.”
The girl looked at you curiously, but finally shook her head.
“No idea…” she murmured. “Besides, that doesn’t matter to me. My job is to bring you here and take you back to Bucharest. If for… Well, for whatever reason you don’t come back, I’ll be left without my money, do you understand?”
“Why wouldn’t I come back?” you asked nervously, looking down the hill, where the old village stood in a frozen mist. “I'm just going to sell my stuff and…”
“You bore me,” the driver sighed, with a mocking laugh that made you burn with rage. “Just pay me now, spaghetti.”
“Mm, politeness is not your best virtue, is it?” you murmured, wishing to say other things, other not-so-elegant words.
After all, that stupid girl was your only transportation in that place in the middle of nowhere… You should control your desire to insult her with all your might.
“I'd rather be rude than stupid,” the young woman laughed, extending her hand for you to give her the money you were holding, squeezing it tightly.
“Ugh, here, your money,” you grumbled, getting a satisfied look from the driver, who turned off the engine, reclining her seat and picking up a magazine.
“A pleasure doing business with you, spaghetti...” she sighed with a sinister laugh.
You, without her seeing you, made fun of her, angrily picking up your suitcase and walking towards the path where you had met with the Duke.
“Stupida...” you hissed, shaking your head, observing the landscape around you.
The trip had been exhausting. Dodging the mountains, those snowy landscapes had taken you too much time, but, that seemingly remote place had a special charm that made it worth it.
You were always a saleswoman, descendant of a family of merchants that expanded throughout old Europe decades ago. Sell, buy, repeat… That was your way of life. Trading in the villages of your country, Italy, was something simple for you, perhaps too simple.
The lack of interest of people in the modern world for something as simple as books, films, or any element of culture, had caused your business to falter, and you had no more than four clients in your area.
You always believed in tradition, in following the family legacy, even when circumstances were not in your favour. You could say that you were also a bit stubborn. Your family branched out to all possible places, places like France, Germany, Spain…
They all seemed to be haunted by the same curse, the same lack of interest in a good book, in knowledge itself.
But there was one place, a place where the tentacles of your family had arrived to stay for a long time, a place where the past lived, where present and future seemed not to exist at all.
A distant relative, the Duke, was for you the luckiest member of the family. Not even your parents knew how long that man had been in that village, in Romania. There were even rumors that he never came, that he never left, he had always existed.
Nonsense and legends in your opinion.
What you did know was that in that place, there were some business opportunities.
You had heard many things about the Duke, about the place where he worked. Apart from old superstitions and legends of witches and vampires, things you didn't believe in, you had heard that the people of the place lived completely oblivious to the outside world.
A unique opportunity. How much would a person pay to know what the world around them was like?
You didn't really care much about the reasons, those strange rumors. You didn't even wonder why that village seemed to be frozen in time. The only thing you thought about when you got on that plane was business.
“Qui...” you sighed when you reached that meeting point the Duke marked.
Without having anything else to do but wait, you sorted your merchandise while you studied the snowy forest that surrounded you, trying to decipher the old wooden signs that indicated illegible directions.
“Re-Reser-Reservoir...” you stammered, removing the snow from one of those signs, looking around. “Un bacino idrico?” you asked, scratching your head. “Mm, interessante...”
Yes, maybe if you finished soon you could do some sightseeing and, above all, you could see the enormous castle that seemed to guard the village.
The minutes passed, you couldn't tell if quickly or slowly. Nothing, there was no sign of the Duke. You might not have known what he looked like, but… In reality, you hadn't seen anyone pass by that path.
The cold began to mix with impatience, making you shiver.
“Ah!” you shrieked when, out of nowhere, a flock of black crows appeared, passing over you, close, too close.
Those black birds seemed like an evil omen, but you were too eager to know that place to realize it. Simply, with a proud cough, you stood up from your crouched position, shaking the snow off your dress.
“Uccelli…” you growled furiously, watching how that flock of crows moved away with sinister sounds.
Checking that your merchandise was still intact, you closed your suitcase, crossing your arms, slowly losing patience.
As you sighed for the umpteenth time, you realized that maybe you were in the wrong place. Asking wouldn't do any good, and besides, there was no one you could ask.
“Mm?” you muttered when you noticed something different among your stuff, a sealed envelope that you could swear wasn't there before.
Looking around confused, thinking no way those crows left that envelope, you slowly picked it up, opening it with a frown. As you began to read, you looked nervously at that forest again. It was a letter for you, in the middle of nowhere.
Dear (Y/N)
I'm afraid something unexpected has come up. It prevents me from attending to you, even though I was certainly looking forward for us to meet. I suppose that, since you are my family, to trade in the village on your own won't be a problem for you.
I'm sorry for the inconvenience.
PS: A word of advice, listen to what the villagers tell you, I wouldn't want the wolves to devour you, or anything worse. Please take care of yourself.
Duke
There was no doubt about it, that letter had arrived there by magic. The idea of messenger crows seemed less and less crazy. But the reality was overwhelming: you were alone in that unknown place.
You had two options: You could take your suitcase, walk back in your tracks and go to the bus, writing yet another failure in your diary, a very expensive one. On the other hand, you could ignore those chills, that feeling of being where you shouldn't be and do what you had come to do.
I wouldn't want the wolves to devour you, or anything worse…
That warning seemed like an irony, a little joke that was surely common to all outsiders like you. Well, it's not like it was a place where there could be wolves but… That wasn't the disturbing thing. What could be worse than being savagely devoured by those beasts?
Curiosity or cowardice, that was your dilemma.
With a thoughtful sigh, you looked at those two possible paths, imagining that, under each of them, there was a line of text that told you which page to go to, like those adventure books that offered several possibilities, some of them fatal ones.
You always fantasized too much thanks to those books. Maybe if you had been as rational as the protagonists of those great adventures, you would have considered your possibilities better.
Shrugging, not wanting to have wasted your money on a fruitless trip, you didn’t listen to the Duke's letter. After all, your job was to talk to people, you didn't need his help, or so you thought.
The castle was increasingly imposing as you approached. It was fascinating, a place from a novel, full of possibilities. Surely when you returned home and read one of those books, you would imagine that gloomy and mysterious landscape.
The glances traveled to your eyes passively. These villagers were definitely strange, they seemed to either fear you, or wish you away, you weren't sure.
Unfortunately, your eagerness to offer knowledge to these poor souls was unsuccessful.
Muttering things you didn't quite understand, in an English that was practically incomprehensible to you, which, on the other hand, was bad luck, since you didn't fully master the language either, each one of the doors of those old cabins closed in your face.
“Hey, I haven't even said my name!” you protested after the tenth disinterested grunt from one of the inhabitants of that place. “Cazzo…”
The door opened again and a young woman with an apologetic look appeared.
“Forgive my father. He doesn't trust outsiders,” the young woman said. Well, at least she spoke to you. “My name is Elena.”
“Sono (Y/N),” you said politely, shaking your hand with the young woman's, who frowned upon hearing you speak that way.
“It's clear that you're not a villager,” the girl joked, closing the door.
“No, I'm Italian,” you said, with a business smile that you had already rehearsed.
The young Elena nodded curiously, glancing at your suitcase.
“Are you a merchant?” she asked, pointing at your merchandise.
You nodded slowly.
“Yes, I've come on behalf of a relative... His name is, or he calls himself... Duke,” you explained with a trembling voice. Your nerves couldn't fail you. At least you had managed to talk to someone.
“The Duke?” the girl asked, with a surprised look. “Wow, I didn't know he had a family.”
“Yes, but he seems to be the only one who is successful,” you murmured jokingly, pronouncing the words in the best way possible. “Well... Elena, right? Are you interested in something?”
“No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid we have everything we need,” she said, shaking her head with a kind smile. “My father says that books are a waste of time.”
“Sciocchezze,” you sighed with a mischievous smile, showing her a vinyl record. “What about music? It's the sound of the soul.”
“No, no, I... I'm afraid we don't need anything like that,” Elena shook her head again.
“Oh, great,” you said, letting your smile fade at the thought that you couldn't even get enough money to recoup the investment of the trip.
“Don't be offended, just…” the young woman said, gesturing with her hands to emphasize her apology. “… We just work to live, that's, that's all we do, anything else would be entertainment.”
“Oh,” you said curiously, arching your eyebrows.
“But, um…” the girl said, looking around. “Maybe, maybe I know someone who might be interested.”
“Do you?” you asked.
Elena nodded, briefly pointing to a large house that stood out from the orchards.
“Luiza has always been a very cultured woman, and she is very kind. Maybe she would want to listen to you,” the young woman explained, in a kind tone. You blinked, looking at the indicated place, and smiled. “She lives up there, in the orchards.”
“Elena!” A loud voice was heard inside the cabin and the girl shuddered.
“I'm coming, father!” Elena shrieked, with another apologetic look. “Sorry, (Y/N), but…”
“Oh, of course, there is no… Pro-problem,” you said nervous about the impatience of that unpleasant man. “Luiza… Okay. Ciao!”
At least that girl helped you not to lose hope.
Elena wasn't lying, that Luiza seemed a bit different from the rest of the villagers, kinder, smarter, with an understandable English... It seems that you interested her enough to invite you into her house.
“Wait there, I'll make tea,” she said kindly, indicating that you sit at a table where a man seemed to be sharpening a knife with a distrustful look. After a few tense seconds, the man left his task, looking at you with distrust.
“So you're a merchant...” he whispered, tilting his head and crossing his arms.
“Yes,” you answered, with that well-rehearsed smile.
“And an outsider...” he whispered, with a sinister smile. “Luiza says you are related to the Duke...”
“That's right,” you said, without losing your merchant composure.
He laughed, shaking his head.
“Wow, I didn't know the fat man had a family,” the man said, with the same surprise in his voice as the young woman before. “Where are you from?”
“Italy,” you said proudly, ignoring those dark eyes, which hardened when they heard you answer.
“Italy, you say?” he asked, leaning a little towards you, narrowing his eyes. “You say you're related to the Duke?”
“Y-Yes,” you stammered, confused by that change in attitude.
“Mm, are you sure you're related to the merchant?” he asked suspiciously, making you nervous. “Hey, maybe by any chance you know...”
“Ahem,” Luiza interrupted, serving you the cup of tea. “Marcus.”
“What? I'm just asking, the girl says she's Italian,” the man, her husband, apparently, protested. “You and I know who…”
“Marcus,” Luiza said, with a firmer tone. The man shook his head, sighing in defeat. “Don't scare the poor girl.”
“Bah, if she's not scared yet, she must be brave, or stupid,” Marcus commented, laughing amused. You made an effort to smile at that little joke, smelling the delicious aroma of tea.
“Okay, (Y/N), unlike my husband, I’m interested in those foreign items… Do you have any opera records?”
“Oh, sure, sure,” you said, as if coming out of a confused thought, opening your suitcase and putting on a display of everything you had.
Well, you did manage to sell a few things. You would always be grateful to that woman, the only kind woman in that place, apart from the young girl, of course. But even with that partial success, you didn't have enough to feel like you had succeeded.
If that woman had bought you something, nobody was telling you that there couldn't be more Luizas in that place. You just had to find them.
You were ready to leave that house, when a small book caught your attention. It looked like a book full of old photographs of the village. You approached it with curiosity while Luiza kindly opened the door for you.
“Um, sorry, but... Can I take a look?” you asked, pointing at the book. The woman looked at her husband and he shrugged, making a vague gesture of farewell.
“Of course...” the woman sighed, faking a smile. You returned it gratefully, starting to turn the pages of that album. “This village is an old one.”
“I see,” you commented nodding, turning pages and pages full of snowy landscapes. “My family had told me about this place, but... Well, not much. What is this?” you asked, pointing to a kind of square guarded by four large statues.
“Those are the… The four founders of the village,” Luiza explained. “The Dimitrescu family, owner of the castle; the Moreau family, owner of the lake lands; the Heisenberg family who owned a metal factory on the outskirts of the village, and the… The Beneviento family, the doll makers.”
“Oh,” you sighed interested, not even hearing the names very well, you were more attentive to those old photographs. “Does anyone live in the castle? I'd like to visit it.”
“Um, no, I…” the woman stammered, making you frown. “I don't think you should go near it, (Y/N).”
“Isn't it open to the public? What a pity,” you said with a disappointed voice.
Luiza made a strange gesture, shaking her head.
“Young lady, take some advice from me,” the woman said, speaking in a very low tone, approaching you with a hand on your shoulder. “You must leave this place.”
“Why?” you asked, confused, looking away at another of the photographs, one with a beautiful mansion, guarded by a waterfall.
It quickly caught your attention, even making you ignore the kind woman's warning words.
“Because…” Luiza sighed, with a broken tone, as if she were afraid of something. “It's not the best place for an outsider.”
“Oh, yeah, well,” you said, amused, gesturing with your hand. “I have people skills. That's not a problem. Tell me, is this house in the village?”
“Oh, that house…” Luiza murmured, looking at the same photograph.
“It's impressive,” you said curious. “Does anyone live there?” you insisted, running your hand over the drawing of what looked like a symbol, one with a moon and a sun.
“It's, it's far from here,” the woman commented, closing the album and subtly pushing you towards the exit. “Listen to me, don't go near that place. It's very dangerous.”
You shook your head with wide eyes, pulling your suitcase.
“Everything here seems very dangerous,” you commented with a low voice and a frown. The woman put on a sad look, caressing your cheek in a strange way.
“Go away, (Y/N), go away before the shadows invade you,” Luiza whispered, turning her back on you and closing the door softly, leaving you petrified on the floor.
“Cosa diavolo non va?” you asked yourself with a strange grimace, slowly moving away from the house.
Ignoring these strange warnings, you walked aimlessly through the village, looking for someone who wasn't afraid of your presence, or who wouldn't bow their head, ignoring your greeting.
Tired from your erratic walk, you decided to lean against a stone sculpture, in the middle of another snowy square. Failure loomed in your thoughts, in your mind, wondering if perhaps with the Duke present, things would have been different.
You looked at your watch and sighed, it was still early to leave, and even more so when you had barely sold four things. You had to make an effort, either that, or try another nearby village.
The crows flew above you like a bad omen that you couldn't interpret. The sky was dark, gloomy.
Don't let the shadows invade you...
Luiza's words echoed in your ears, words you didn't know how to interpret, or rather, that you didn't want to interpret. You were in a different country, in a different culture, lost in that snowy, sinister village. Even though you believed that nothing could go wrong, a bad feeling began to haunt you.
Yes, maybe it was time to leave.
You stood up with a defeated gasp, shaking your head, depressed by your ridiculous failure. But, you had barely taken two steps when something caught your attention.
In front of you was a wooden door, a kind of fence that separated a private property. Above the frame, there was a symbol, one that you remembered having seen before: that moon and that sun.
Your mind was left thinking. Yes, surely that would be the way to the waterfall house. It had to be. Luiza warned you to not get too close but… Curiosity was calling you.
Okay, it wasn't a huge castle but… Still, that mansion couldn't belong to just any villager. The curious relationship of wealth, bigger houses and kindness that you found in the village made you think that maybe someone rich lived there, a person or family with enough money to think about leisure or wisdom.
“Mm,” you murmured curiously, approaching that place, looking at that symbol closely. The door was open. You almost thought you heard whispers that encouraged you to enter that dark path.
You swallowed when a cold breeze came out of that darkness. Your body trembled for no reason, but your mind was blinded by greed. You couldn't miss that opportunity to know what or who was on the other side, who lived in that place.
The sunlight illuminated the path you had to follow with increasingly less intense rays. Slowly, you followed that luminous advice, entering through the wooden door, walking towards the unknown.
It didn't seem like a very strange place, or so you thought. The trees seemed sad, that place seemed devoured by time. Strange objects hung from the almost rotten branches, which you passed by without flinching.
You simply kept your mind busy, like a danger blocking mechanism that seemed to alert your subconscious. Instead of worrying, when you saw that those things hanging from the trees were dolls, you simply whistled, making your way through the branches with a slow walk.
You passed an old wooden bridge, one that said: go away in all possible languages. You were never good at interpreting those words, those screams from your mind that demanded your attention.
The sunlight diminished as you walked, it was getting dark. The branches of the trees drew disturbing shadows that surrounded a pair of ruined cabins.
“Brr,” you shivered when you saw those wooden claws stalking you.
The smile never left your face, but your body began to notice the symptoms of that inner fear; a dizziness, a feeling of heaviness in your stomach... All of these were physical signs that seemed to want to stop you in your tracks.
You even thought that the tea or the fruit you ate at Luiza's had upset your stomach. No, you didn't see the danger in any way, or rather, you didn't want to see it.
Finally you reached a clearing, where a mound showed a sinister grave you didn't want to approach. Your stupidity and your desire for wealth were so strong that you thought it was perhaps a simple decoration.
“Un ascensore...” you murmured when you reached a red door, surely the entrance to that curious mansion.
Biting your lip, you rubbed your hands entering those metal bars. Of course, whoever lived in that place had to have a lot of money, and, above all, a great desire to spend it. You fantasized about what you were going to find: a rich family? A widow, perhaps? A wealthy man? Maybe one of the founders of the village’s descendants? It didn't matter who it was, but you could smell money from miles away.
When you got out of the elevator, the sight in front of you forced you to stop. There was that house, that huge house with a beautiful waterfall next to it.
“If this doesn't work, I'm leaving the business,” you said, rehearsing in your head the phrases to say to the inhabitant of that place, greetings, smiles, all your charms.
The sound of the falling water relaxed you, although you didn't know why you were even nervous. The word danger whispered in your mind like a premonition or intuition, but you let the waterfall completely eclipse it. The beauty of that place couldn't entail any danger, you were convinced.
You cleared your throat as you approached the door, slowly climbing the steps. At the moment, there was nothing that matched Luiza's warnings, nothing, until, before you could knock on the door, it opened with an ominous creak.
“Um, hello?” you asked, seeing how, in front of you, there was nothing but a beautiful wooden room, with a rocking chair that moved by itself. “Ciao...” you repeated in a lower voice.
There didn't seem to be anyone in that place and you sighed, relaxing your shoulders and looking around.
“Oh!” you squealed in fear when you looked down, where, what looked like a ventriloquist's doll was standing looking at you. “Oh... Cazzo... What...” you said upset. “Good... Good trick...”
Smiling, thinking that, like the gravestones in the clearing, this was just a joke, you crouched down curiously, looking at that puppet.
“Hello?” you repeated, standing up again and ignoring the doll, which, perhaps because of the accumulated fatigue, you thought was following you with its gaze.
“Down here, stupid!” a high-pitched screech scared you again, making you fall backwards, tripping and crashing your body against the hard stone of the porch.
But neither the pain of the fall nor the fright were the worst. Yes, you were not dreaming, if it was a joke, it was the best one you had ever seen.
That doll, that damn doll moved, moved its articulated mouth, laughing out loud.
“Who are you?” the puppet asked, approaching your collapsed body. You backed away scared, crawling until you reached those small steps.
“Ahhh! Una bambola parlante!” you shrieked in fear, standing up as quickly as possible with your hands in front of your body.
“Who are you calling a talking doll, you silly, silly?” the puppet asked.
No, there was no doubt. There were no strings, no ventriloquist, it was alive.
“Ah, io, io… What?” you stammered nervously, shaking your head, blinking hard to make what was undoubtedly a hallucination go away. It didn’t.
“Wait, wait, wait, can you repeat that?” the doll said, approaching with a comical step. “What did you just say?”
“Cosa?” you asked, grabbing your suitcase, ready to run away. “Sorry, I… No, no… What?”
“You called me a talking doll,” it said, crossing its arms.
You nodded confused.
“I'm, I'm, I'm sorry... No, no...” you stammered, still shocked and scared by the impossibility of that old toy. It couldn't move, it just couldn't.
“Who are you?” it asked again. “Why do you know Italian?”
“I-I-I'm Italian,” you stammered, shaking your head.
The doll tilted its head curiously, looking you up and down.
“You're a long way from home, you silly Italian,” the doll commented in a mocking tone.
You blinked again, scratching the back of your neck, searching all over the doll for the mechanism that was supposed to make it behave like that. You didn't find it.
“I-I'm a merchant,” you said with a broken voice. The doll nodded, walking towards you quickly, climbing up your dress. It was too close, you couldn't move.
“Merchant?” it asked again, looking at you as if it was reading your soul. “What do you sell?”
“I sell… I sell… Books and… Vinyl and… Movies…” you explained when the doll finally got off your body, without taking those cold eyes off you.
“Books and movies?” the puppet asked.
You, nervous, still scared, nodded erratically.
“Do you have Italian stuff?”
“S-Sure I have,” you whispered in a small voice.
“Mm,” the doll murmured turning around, but looking at you several times before disappearing into the darkness of the mansion. “Donna, Donna! You have to see this, come, come!”
“Donna?” you asked yourself, gathering enough courage to walk back to the door, where, after a few seconds, the sound of heels approached.
In front of you was a woman, a woman dressed completely in black, with a veil covering her face. She had a stoic pose, she emanated danger, and even more so when you saw that she was holding the doll in her arms.
Even if she was the most experienced ventriloquist in the world, she could never have done that, it was simply impossible.
“She's pretty, huh, Donna?” the doll said, nudging the lady, who sighed tiredly. “An Italian beauty knocking on your door, not even in your dreams could you imagine something like that.”
“Angie…” A hoarse, dark voice came out of that black veil while the woman lowered the doll to the floor. It laughed amusedly, staring at you again.
“Um, well…” you murmured confused, with your gaze fixed on that black veil, on those invisible eyes that you knew were watching you. “H-Hello…”
There was no answer. The lady didn't even seem to be bothered by your words.
“Um… I'm… I'm (Y/N),” you said, putting fear aside and politely extending your hand towards her, who looked at it briefly, without returning your greeting. “No? Okay… Well…”
“I'm Angie!” the doll shrieked, grabbing your hand instead of its owner and shaking it roughly. “Nice to scare you!”
“H-Hello… Suppongo…” you whispered, still confused but, mysteriously, more relaxed.
“Forgive her, she doesn’t like to talk,” the doll explained, pointing at its owner in a mocking way. “Shall I tell you a secret? She's Italian too.”
“Oh, really?” you asked, looking at the lady, who nodded briefly. “Che strana coincidenza…”
“Perché strana?” that hoarse voice asked again, the voice of that mysterious lady.
“Oh, well…” you said embarrassed, of course, that doll hadn't lied to you. “No, it's nothing…”
“Che vuoi?” the lady in black asked again, her tone lighter, but reflected impatience.
“I'm, I'm a merchant,” you said again, trying to smile, making a superhuman effort to make that strange situation stop being so strange.
After all, she was the inhabitant of that place, and she was also Italian. The business seemed to call you…
“She sells a lot of things, Donna!” the doll shrieked, pointing at you. “Things you like!”
“Mm,” the woman in black murmured, looking over your shoulder at the merchandise. “Me li può mostrare?”
“Oh, sure, sure…” you said nervously, heading towards your suitcase and opening it on the floor, closely followed by that strange doll, which didn't seem to want to leave you alone.
“Look, Donna, your favorite record!” the doll squealed, rummaging through the merchandise without any kind of hesitation, under your watchful gaze, and hers.
The lady took that vinyl, observing it carefully. You almost thought you heard a slight laugh coming out of that veil.
“È, it's a special edition,” you murmured when you saw how interested she seemed to be. “You, you know… Come prima… Più di prima…” you sang in a timid and horrible way.
The veiled lady looked up with a sigh.
“Are you also a singer?” she asked with a weak, whispering voice.
You laughed nervously shaking your head, with your cheeks slightly blushed.
“No… The truth is, I’m not… Although, although they've always told me that I have a beautiful voice,” you said timidly, looking sideways as Angie rummaged through the books.
“Mm,” the lady murmured with disinterest, looking at the vinyl again.
“Donna, Donna! Nonna's favorite book!” the doll squealed, handing her one of your books in perfect condition. “Look, look, this one isn't broken!”
“I have that one on sale… If, if you're interested… Donna, right?” you said with your voice cracked by nerves, playing with your sweaty hands.
“Donna? Lady Beneviento for you, silly!” the doll snapped at you, in a haughty tone.
“Beneviento?” you asked involuntarily, knowing that you had heard that name somewhere.
Of course you heard it. Like a whisper of help, your mind recalled Luiza's words, those that explained to you the families who had founded the village. Of course, that Donna Beneviento was an important person in that place. Despite everything strange, your greed took precedence, she seemed truly interested in what you were selling.
The mysterious woman nodded slowly, leafing through that book with curiosity.
“I’m sorry, Lady Beneviento,” you said elegantly, lowering your head. You knew she was not an ordinary villager and therefore, you could not treat her as such.
“Vieni,” she whispered, gesturing for you to enter the house.
You nodded nervously, closing your suitcase and pulling it into the mansion, with an extra weight. That living doll had climbed on top of it, swinging its legs in a playful way.
“Hey, do you mind?” you said nervously. The doll, obviously, shook her head.
You groaned, still in disbelief, and when you looked again you saw something strange.
There was a portrait, a portrait hanging on the wall of the stairs. On it, there was a woman, a really beautiful, gorgeous woman with a pale face, serious eyes and black hair. Next to her, there was that puppet, the Angie doll. Would she be the lady?
Lady Beneviento cleared her throat, getting your attention, letting you know through her non-verbal language, that she didn't want you to look at that portrait. You decided to be good and obey.
“Sit down, I'll make some tea and we'll talk business,” the woman whispered, pointing to a cozy corner of that house.
“Sure... Yes, um... Thank you,” you said with a kind smile.
The woman in black looked at you for an almost awkward moment and then turned around, walking slowly towards a hallway. You followed her with your eyes until she disappeared.
It was a strange situation indeed. Perhaps you should have listened better to your survival instincts.
After what seemed like an eternity, the lady returned, serving you a cup of tea with an elegant gesture and sitting in front of you.
“Grazie…” you whispered with a grateful smile, blowing on the steaming liquid. “Truth be told, I didn't expect to find someone who spoke my language… I've never been good with English.”
“You seem to speak it quite well,” she commented, with a regal pose, barely moving, not letting anyone see for a moment what that black veil was hiding.
“I have no choice, I guess,” you sighed, shaking your head.
“Do you trade all over Europe?” she asked curiously as you opened your suitcase again, your hands shaking.
You weren’t there to chat. You had gone to do business. You couldn’t forget that.
“No, I… Well, I used to trade only in Italy,” you explained with a sad smile.
“Where in Italy are you from?” she asked again as Angie, with the suitcase open again, rubbed her wooden hands, rummaging through your stuff with an evil laugh.
You looked back at the lady, a bit confused.
“Da che parte d’Italia vieni?” the lady repeated with a slightly darker voice. “Nord, sud…?”
“Oh, yes, Well… I was born in the city of… This may seem like a joke to you but… I’m from the city of Benevento,” you said with a shy smile.
You didn’t want her to think you were laughing at her. It was just a stupid coincidence.
“Mm, why would I think it's a joke?” she asked, with a tired sigh.
“Well, because of your… Your last name… It's quite similar, isn't it?” you said with a fake smile. “Are you from around there?”
“No,” the lady answered dryly, without bothering to shake her head. “I was born here.”
“Oh, okay…” you murmured, glancing at the doll, who was shuffling through your books. “Hey, um… be careful…” you said to the doll, who made a mocking gesture, imitating your voice in an unpleasant way. “Hey, la, la bambola…”
“Angie”
“Yes, Angie…” you repeated with a frown. “Why is she alive?”
“That's none of your business,” she said, with a cold voice, one that ran through your nerves, putting them on alert again.
“O-Okay, sorry,” you murmured, looking down.
“Do you have Italian movies?” she asked after a tense moment, one that you took advantage of to hide your embarrassment in the teacup. “Film.”
“Oh, yes, yes of course…” you said nervously, reaching for the suitcase, rummaging through your messy things due to the Angie doll, who protested with a grunt at your hand. “I have a lot of these.”
“Mm?” the lady murmured, looking at the cover confused, opening it and taking out the disc. “What is this?”
“A, a movie,” you said, clearing your throat. “A DVD.”
“DVD…” she whispered, looking at her reflection in that shiny disc, visibly confused. You couldn't believe she didn't know it. That village was definitely stopped in time. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand you.”
“Um, well…” you said, scratching the back of your neck, wondering how you were going to explain that to this mysterious woman. She didn't seem to be joking, at all.
“Hey, it's like a mirror!” Angie squealed, climbing onto her owner's lap and comically looking at herself in the disc, turning it curiously. “I want one, Donna, I want one!”
“Ugh, va bene…” the lady whispered, putting the DVD back in its place and handing it to the doll, who jumped victoriously. “It's still not what I'm looking for.”
“What… What are you looking for?” you asked, flashing your fake saleswoman smile again.
“Don't you have any 28mm rolls?” the woman wanted to know.
You nodded confused.
“Yes… But, but they are, they are special, I mean, I mean… They are… They are molto costose, you know… They are, they are almost museum relics,” you said, taking a metal box out of the suitcase and opening it, displaying its contents.
“Fine, I want them,” she murmured, nodding and snatching the box from your hands. “Money is not a problem.”
Well, that phrase fostered a more sincere smile on your face.
“Va bene… It is…” you said nervously, taking out a notebook in which you wrote down your sales.
“I'm not finished,” she interrupted you, leaving the box on the floor. “I also want those books.”
“Those? Which ones?” you asked confused by her vague description.
“All of them,” the lady said abruptly, leaving you glued to the seat. “I've been asking the Duke for that classic novel collection for a long time.”
“The Duke? Oh, well, I'm related to him,” you said smiling, taking the books out of the suitcase and leaving them on the table.
“You?!” Angie asked in a shrill voice, getting too close to you again. “Come on! You don't look like that fat greasy guy!”
“Fat greasy guy?” you asked amused. “Well, I don't really know him, but it seems that in this village you do it quite well.”
“Oh, yes, he's a scammer!” Angie shrieked laughing amused. “Isn't he, Donna?”
“Mm…” the lady nodded, distracted by the books.
That scared you.
“Oh, I… I'm not like him. I'm always fair with prices and… Cazzo, don't think I'm trying to rip you off or anything like that… Cazzo.”
“Do you mind stopping talking like that? I don't like rude girls,” Donna snapped at you, with a dangerous, annoyed tone.
“I'm, I'm sorry, it's just that... Well, I'm not used to being understood,” you explained with a different blush, one that was accentuated when a shy laugh came out of her veil.
“It was just a joke,” she said amused, more relaxed, surely fascinated by that collection of books she was looking for so much. “Do you want some more tea?”
“Oh, yes, per favore,” you said, extending your cup towards the teapot, with a calm smile.
“I still don't know what a girl like you is doing in a place like this...” she whispered after a moment of calm silence, one that served to, little by little, get you used to that sinister atmosphere, and that doll.
“It's a long story...” you sighed, leaning back on the old sofa.
“I have time,” she said, with the same tone as you. “I'm sure you'll appreciate having a chat in your native language, right?”
“S-Sure…”
As if you had suddenly forgotten what you were doing there, or how much time you had left to leave, you began to chat calmly with that strange woman.
At first she seemed gloomy, reluctant to hold any kind of conversation but… As you explained everything that led you to the village, your concerns, your goals… Well, her attitude relaxed quite a bit.
The short, dry sentences turned into a soft voice, into shy laughs from time to time. It seemed that she had gained some confidence with you, or so that living doll hinted. After your hectic trip through Romania, a chat in your language effectively lifted your spirits, it was almost like feeling at home.
On the other hand, that erratic behavior of the lady in black never ceased to surprise you. Like the rest of the villagers, she seemed not to understand or comprehend very well the outside world, the time in which you lived.
To your surprise, she had never even set foot on Italy. Yes, her family came from there, but, incredibly, Donna had never been there. But that was not the only thing that was curious, so were the words that claimed she had never left the village.
It might seem that this woman, with money, with power, from an important family, had little or no interest in traveling, in leaving this sinister time capsule.
But that was not the case. Her words were full of sadness, her sighs, that nostalgia with which she listened attentively to your words... It seemed as if deep down she wanted to leave, as if, for some reason, her stay in the village was some kind of condemnation for her.
The mansion grew darker as time went by as you talked, sharing impressions, tastes, hobbies… It was almost as if you had just met a friend, a friend with an interesting voice, with a beautiful body, with a subtle but intoxicating lavender perfume…
Your cheeks betrayed those erratic thoughts about the lady in black and you shook your head several times.
You, a cultured girl, a fan of romance novels, always tended to idealize that kind of situations. You didn't want to believe in love at first sight, but you certainly didn't know what it felt like, if it was even possible.
No, no, no, no… You couldn't think about that, despite how attractive Lady Beneviento was to you. Everything had an end, and sooner than you would have liked, yours came.
Sighing, finishing your last cup of tea, you looked at the clock and almost choked.
“Oh, cazzo!” you said hurriedly, getting up from the sofa. “5 o'clock, if I don't hurry…”
“What's wrong?” the lady in black asked, getting up too, playing nervously with her hands.
“I'd love to stay and chat but… If I don't make it to that stupida’s bus, she will leave without me and…” you explained, gathering that was left in your suitcase. Donna had bought almost everything without thinking about it.
“Are you going to leave?” she asked in a whisper, with a voice that, at least to you, seemed sad.
You looked at her and nodded with a polite smile, extending your hand towards her, a hand that, this time, she shook briefly.
Damn, her hands were very soft…
“It's been nice meeting you, Donna,” you said kindly, turning around to walk towards the hall.
“Are you going to let her just leave? Silly Donna…” you heard the doll whisper in an indiscreet manner.
“W-Wait, wait a moment,” the nervous lady said, running to meet you, making her veil move, inducing your mischievous eyes to look at what was underneath. “D-Do you really have to go?”
“Yes,” you said with a confused look, totally innocent.
“W-Wait, I… I…” she murmured, approaching slowly. “It's dangerous to go out at night.”
“Hey, can someone explain to me what it is that scares you so much about this place? And why are there living dolls?” you asked with an impatient tone, remembering each of the villagers' warnings.
“I'll explain everything to you, but, but only if you stay with me a little longer, just a little longer,” the lady said, in a tone that sounded curiously desperate. “Per favore…”
“Please, please!” the doll repeated in a shrill tone.
“Um…” you stammered, unable to find an answer, a desire to stay that you knew existed. But that village had already given you so much trouble, you wanted to leave, but at the same time, you didn't.
Damn senseless crush… How can you even know if you really liked that woman?
“Okay,” you said, letting your words speak for themselves, sighing as you looked at your wristwatch, knowing that, even if you ran, you wouldn't make it to the bus on time. “Hai un telefono?”
The lady nodded, pointing to a small table.
You walked slowly past her, checking how, in a disturbing way, the doll and owner followed you with their gaze.
“Irina?” you asked when someone finally answered, after a few tense moments.
“Oh spaghetti, it's you!” the driver of the bus screamed. She seemed agitated, as if she was running away from something, or so you sensed, there was too much interference. “You have to… Help me! Wolves… Monsters…! Call the… Lice!”
“Cosa? I don't understand you, are you okay?” you asked with a frown, that stupid girl seemed to be in danger.
“No…! No…! Mother Miranda!”
After those screams, the call was interrupted, leaving you disoriented. Seeing you like that, Donna approached, taking the phone from your hand and hanging it slowly, as if somehow those screams hadn't surprised her.
“It seems that there are some connection problems,” Angie mocked, laughing, but stopping when the lady suddenly looked at her, as if she had said something she shouldn't. “Oops…”
“I think she wanted me to call the police… Who is Mother Miranda?” you asked confused, with your heart racing.
“She’s the leader of this village,” Donna murmured, with a somber voice. “But don't worry, she won't hurt you, I won't allow it.”
“Hurt? Um, hey, Donna, I think, I think Irina was in trouble,” you said nervously, focused on finding out what had happened.
“You'll be in trouble if you go out at night, silly! You have to stay here!” Angie yelled at you, pointing comically at the floor.
“Oh, no, no, I don't want to disturb you,” you said with a trembling voice.
Your intuition wasn't wrong at all, but... In that house, you didn't seem to be in danger.
“You're not disturbing me, I like your company,” Donna said, with her hands in front of her body, with an elegant posture, unfazed by what seemed to be the death of the bus girl. “Do you want...? Do you want to cook something for dinner?”
“Oh, um, yes, dinner... Um...” you said confused, nodding without really knowing why. “Va...Va bene...”
As if you had forgotten what had happened, as if that call hadn't taken place, you went down to that dark basement with the lady in black and started cooking. It was a fun, entertaining time.
You both shared your own recipes, your special ways of doing things. Your mind had forgotten about going home, it had forgotten where you wanted to go, why you wanted to leave. The only thing you knew was that you wanted to stay with that dark Italian Lady. You wanted to talk to her, laugh with her.
Yes, you started to believe in love at first sight, you had no doubt that it existed, you were experiencing it.
Day and night began to dance before your eyes, the sun and the moon. How long had you been there? You didn't know. Had it been days, weeks, months? You weren't sure.
Cooking, reading, watching those movies… Any excuse was good enough to forget about your problems, to forget you had a place to go back to.
Maybe darkness had invaded you but… You had become addicted to her, to Donna Beneviento, to that strange woman and her doll, to her voice, her words, her laughter… To the lavender of her perfume…
“Sale,” Donna said, extending her hand so you could give her the jar she needed while, like so many days, like so many times, you cooked with her.
A curious routine, cooking, cleaning, sewing… Something that your own conscience used as payment for being a guest who didn't pay for her stay but… Were you really a guest? What were you?
“I've never seen anyone making pasta,” you said curiously, leaning your elbow on the counter. Donna laughed amused, shaking her head. “Well, my grandmother usually…”
“You say I'm like your grandmother?” she joked, kneading calmly.
“No, not at all,” you said, amused, looking hypnotically at that curious dough. “I buy it ready-made, it's easier and faster that way.”
“Chi va piano…”
“Va lontano…” you finished, smiling again, with that damn blush on your cheeks. “It's true, you're right, Donna.”
She glanced at you briefly, giving you another of her beautiful laughs. You were so dazed that nothing mattered anymore, only waking up in that guest room again, only going downstairs to share moments with her, only her, only Donna mattered to you.
“Wait, let me help you,” you said, picking up one of the flour sacks and putting it on the counter with a loud thud, raising a thick cloud of white dust. “Cazzo! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”
The lady coughed, brushing the flour away with her hand, clearing her vision. It could be a comedian or a dangerous one, you didn't quite know. Her little apron was unable to stop all the flour, which landed on Lady Beneviento, including her veil.
“Tutto bene?” you asked timidly, brushing the dust out of your hair.
“Sì,” the woman in black murmured, accidentally removing her veil, shaking it in front of your wide-open eyes.
When she realized the mistake she had made, the mistake of showing you her face, she gasped nervously, shaking her head.
You stood petrified, admiring every inch of her beauty, a hidden one, one that you only sensed and you had just confirmed. No, a stupid scar couldn't be that important, it wasn't capable of hiding anything, of overcoming her beauty.
“Non… Non…” she whispered, turning around and covering her face with her hands. “Non guardami!”
“Donna, wait, wait…” you said nervously, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t, don't cover yourself, You are… Sei bellisima…”
“No, no, no…” she repeated, nervously, pushing away your comforting hand. “Sei una bugiarda!”
“I'm not lying, Donna, really, I…” you said, trying to reason with those incipient sobs, with the trembling of her body.
“Now you'll want to leave… You'll make me hurt you!” she shrieked, completely out of control. You shook your head, ignoring that dangerous last sentence.
“Shh,” you whispered softly, turning her around, taking advantage of a slight moment of weakness. “I won't leave, I like being here.”
“No… Non é vero…” she said, moving away from your gaze.
You snatched the veil from her so she couldn't put it back on and, without thinking, you launched yourself at her lips, kissing them fiercely, just as you had wanted to do for a long time, you didn't know how long.
“Donna…” you sighed when you pulled away from the kiss, a messy kiss that she had a hard time joining.
Finally she did, caressing your cheeks, mouth agape by that sudden reaction, one that she was apparently also waiting for.
“You have come into my life like a savior, like a light that has passed through the darkness…” she whispered, kissing you again, losing that fear, that cowardice, the fear of being discovered, of you seeing her wounded face.
What Lady Beneviento didn’t expect, is that you would feel something for her.
“Per favore…Non partire…Rimani con me…Per sempre…” she murmured while your lips caressed each other, while the warmth of that unexpected love slowly passed through your body, until it reached your heart.
“Per sempre…”
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❝Domain Expansion: Love❞
Synopsis: You are Gojo Satoru's only weakness. When the bearer of the Six Eyes discerns that your life is in jeopardy, he will do everything to keep you safe.
෴ Genre: fiction, fanfiction, mystery, dark fantasy, short story, one shot, romance, imagine.
෴ Content: husband!gojo satoru × wife!reader, jujutsu society, sorcerer!reader, angst, fluff, sensitive content, bloodshed, suggestive (mature content), satoru gojo!yandere, satoru gojo!tsundere, this takes place shortly before the shibuya incident arc, reader has a maternal relationship with megumi, pregnancy.
෴ Word Count: 3.4K
— Oi, I ain't revised it yet, so sorry if there's any mistakes! Hope u enjoy it 🤞✨
Satoru Gojo is the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in existence. However, the moment he sees you, his beautiful wife, unconscious on the battlefield with nearly incurable wounds, this man's world crumbles completely. Suddenly, all of his physical and mental energy is being drained, even his enthusiasm to exorcise curses vanishes. He is motionless in place, trembling enough with wide eyes under the black blindfold, and even though they are hidden, they scrutinize all the blood leaving different parts of your body. Minutes ago, there was a stupid and arrogant smile shaping the face of the confident man all the time as he killed horrendous creatures. A countenance of terror overtakes his face now. He feels his legs weakening, his feet seem to be too far from the ground, and he remembers that he is not manipulating the space to make it levitate. He is feeling weak for not having been able to arrive in time to protect you, this emotion has intertwined with him. Especially since Satoru Gojo never even had a weakness until you came into his life.
His heart is beating rapidly and his breath is so intense that all the curses around him are impacted by the reaction of the mighty man among them. Time frenetically ceases as the strong cursed technique is creating an invisible barrier in the air and continues to repel the malevolent creatures that persist in their futile attempt to touch the bearer of Mukagen and Rokugan, while he himself is left vulnerable like a puppy that has just lost its owner.
Didn't she use the reverse cursed technique to stay healed?
Why...
"Satoru." The presence and hesitant voice of Nanami become noticeable at a certain distance. The tie-wearing sorcerer clenches his jaw, too tense as he sees you in a deplorable state. Nanami fails to try not to show all his agony. Witnessing one of his closest friends on the brink of death equals the feeling of having his heart cut with the cursed blade he carries.
Amid the scene, Satoru is lowering the blindfold covering his eyes, the white locks of hair cascading as the black cloth falls. The fabric hangs on his neck before revealing the orbs, the bright blue darkening as a storm brews within them. A lost and distressed gaze is exposed on his face, as if you somehow took his emotions along with you.
"My wife shouldn't be on that suicide mission." The tone of voice of the Jujutsu High teacher is harsh, firm in the way he usually imposes on a very serious subject. A power which makes the walls vibrate when he is arguing with Gakuganji. He is so angry.
As he melancholically walks towards you, the semi-grade 1 curses around him are exploded in a matter of seconds. There are parts of physical structures scattered and fluids like blood painting the ground at this moment, justified by the power of his ability to manipulate space.
"I should've just isolated her from the world, maybe locked her on the 15th floor of a building and then acted as if I didn't do that." A small sad smile forms on the edge of his mouth, he is imagining how you would laugh at this idea if you were conscious now. You would probably find it absurd and put him to sleep on the couch.
Damn, he misses you and wonders why it hurts so much. His intention is to act quickly to take you to the jujutsu sorcerer doctors and stay by your side the whole time while they are taking care of you. He will not leave you for even a minute, and those are the words of Gojo Satoru against anyone. If someone dares to touch you right in front of him, he will definitely be willing to kill.
The strongest sorcerer abandons these thoughts, he does not hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around your body, holding you close to his chest. The man notices the wounds on parts of your face, your jujutsu uniform is dirty with blood and so destroyed, revealing your naked skin. The sweet taste on his tongue is bitter now, his mind can only focus on the fact that you suffered from fighting until you could not take it anymore. You resisted too much because of your undeniable strength, and on one hand he feels so proud of it. He loves showing everyone that his wife is one of the best professional jujutsu sorcerers, strong like him. But you should not be dealing with this cruel world. You are the most precious thing to him.
Satoru could feel your energy miles away, making it easy to identify your presence. But now he's not sensing any cursed energy flowing according to your emotions. It's all so quiet and calm. The powerful energy emanation should be surrounding your body as it always has, but it's as if something inside you is blocking it right now, since he can't feel your aura. It's different. He will question Shoko about this as soon as he takes your body to her for analysis.
"Do not mention it to the students, especially Megumi." The request leaves Satoru's mouth like a command. He imagines how the teenage Fushiguro would react upon finding out your condition, as you had become a maternal figure by making sure to take care of him since he was so young. The spiky-haired student is on a mission with others, and the best choice is not to disclose the information as the bad news would have a big negative impact on the boy. Gojo knows you would want that too.
On the other side of the area, the grade 1 sorcerer nods in deep silence. Nanami feels the muscles strengthen beneath his formal clothes. He is aware of the gravity of the situation, the actions and the consequences. He is not one to conceal lies, but that will be an exception he makes.
"She's losing a lot of blood." The blond man pushes his glasses closer to his eyes with his hands as he gazes at the white-haired sorcerer. He sighs deeply, containing the desperation within him. "Take her out of here before it's too late."
"Thank you, Nanami."
And that was the last thing Satoru Gojo said before teleporting with you unconscious in his arms.
෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊
The night takes over the city, darkness has crept upon Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, and 2 hours have passed since the sorcerer of the Six Eyes emerged in the place, insane, with you clinging to his chest and enraged enough as he searched for an available doctor. Gojo laid your body down onto the nearest stretcher, his hands dirty and consumed by your blood, staining the sheets red and making a mess. 2 hours ago he was screaming at anyone who crossed his path. At this moment, silence hangs in the air like a fog, it is peaceful again behind the school doors.
In one of the infirmary rooms, you are peacefully sleeping on the stretcher. Your chest rises and falls in a steady motion, your body completely healed through the spell cursed technique reversal performed by professionals. The minor wounds and even the most serious ones - like the rupture of your rib - had vanished, and your skin is renewed under the hospital gown you are now dressed in. Sitting in a chair quite close to you, the strongest sorcerer is comfortable with legs apart, assuming a relaxed posture as he rests the upper part of his body on your legs enclosed by the sheets. Satoru Gojo is resting, his eyelids is closed and his head supported by his own arms. He spent so much time watching you sleep that his eyes were influenced by exhaustion. Satoru has no idea of the time he spent caressing your face, running his fingers through your hair, and kissing your forehead several times before settling into his current position. His neck is turned towards the ceiling, his white hair falling naturally loose. There is only a black t-shirt hugging his torso as he had taken off the jacket of his jujutsu attire since your blood had stained most of his clothes. The exposed skin of his arms is almost glistening in the light of the room.
He has kept you safe all this time, only leaving you when he realized that everything was under control. The man always ensures to protect you at all costs, even though most of the time you don't need it. After inspecting the entire perimeter and realizing that you were safe at Jujutsu High, he went to finish the mission that was according to the superiors, just as it had been ordered to you. Since he completed the task of exorcising a special grade curse, his precious time now remains only for you. By the time indicated on the wall clock, Satoru wishes so much to take you home and he only thinks about holding you close until morning comes again. Nevertheless, Shoko was quite insistent when she said that you still require monitoring by a doctor, and that for now you should stay here. What did she mean by that?
This question echoes in Satoru's mind, suddenly he awakens fully and opens his eyes as quickly as if he felt some creature attacking him without warning. A movement of your legs under the sheets does not go unnoticed by him, his blue orbs almost popping out as they contemplate you lazily waking up from eternal rest. For him, it was truly eternal.
"I knew you were here." You whisper. Your voice is weak from just waking up, but a strong smile spreads across your face when your eyes slowly open and meet the white mane. You try to push yourself up out of bed using your arms, but your efforts are blocked by Satoru.
"Babyyy! Easy, easy." Your husband gestures with his hands, a gaze of relief on his face. You're really strong, huh? He is smiling like a little boy who just tasted his favorite mochi flavor, and you are certain you see stars twinkling in his eyes. "Gee, you're already eager to fly."
"Satoru, if you don't let me get out of this bed right now, I swear I don't know what I'll do."
"When in doubt, do nothing." He is clapping consistently to highlight the idea. "Settle that cute and pretty booty down right there, I've locked all the doors and you ain't leaving here. Now tell me how you're feeling, my lovely wife. That's all that matters to me."
"Argh." A small huff of air escapes your lips while you roll your eyes towards the ceiling, defeated enough. The man right next to you is playfully disapproving of your behavior. "I'm fine, 'Toru. You know that better than I do. My skin's just tingling from someone else's reverse technique." You report during the time you notice the scars that have formed on your arm after the outcome of the cursed method. A technique that you have the experience to perform on yourself. After all, you don't carry the title of special grade sorcerer for nothing.
"Nah, don't sweat it. I'm gonna take good care of you." There's an intense gaze that matches his words. The man emits a little chuckle as he realizes he managed to tease you with that.
"And where's 'Gumi?" You inquire, more to yourself than to Satoru. Your eyes are scanning the entire room in search of finding the black-haired teenage boy. You still ponder the king of curse's intentions towards Megumi, it consumes you and leaves you with a nagging feeling.
"You're more worried 'bout him than 'bout yourself, heh." The man raises his eyebrows, indignation stamped on them. A comical expression, almost too much. "You know that tough boy is independent, he's able to handle anything. Can you chill out for a minute, lady?" Satoru's smile broadens before he proceeds: "I took care of everything already, I told him to swing by here before heading to the dorm. Didn't go into the details, of course."
"He's probably gonna be surprised to find out we're here at Jujutsu High at this time of night... Guess I must have slept for a while, right?" You touch the skin of your husband as you place your hand on his face, and give a radiant smile as you realize that there is no invisible barrier holding you apart, even though he always deactivates it when he is with you. "Hey. Thank you for keeping things on the down low. And for everything you do for me."
"Awww! You're welcome, bae." Satoru copies the way you smile, but it is quickly replaced by a grimace. He puts his hand right on top of yours, the wedding rings on your fingers colliding with each other. "Ain't nobody care 'bout me like that. What did I do to not deserve it?"
"It's like I wouldn't be worried about you even if you could move mountains with just your own thoughts." You are rolling your eyes for the second time. Once you blink, he is staring at you with a stern and intimidating look.
"I'm the one here who got the most worried 'cause you got me feelin' this way. A guy like me shouldn't have these kinds of feelings." His voice is husky and his cold blue eyes unravel your soul, the temperature is freezing you. "Don't do that again, or I'll lose my mind and kill anyone around me." The way he adresses this, it is not a bluff. It seems like an objective he would fulfill, a mission that would not require anyone's authorization, not even the higher-ups of the Jujutsu society.
"Satoru..."
"You're trying to make me a widower, hah?" His voice becomes light again, genuine good humor returns. Now he has a broad smile on his face, the eyes are nearly closing due to that action. As if he hadn't announced something so violent just 10 seconds ago. "If I tally up how many folks got worried 'bout you, there won't be enough fingers on Sukuna's hand to count it."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that." You are making amends, and he cannot resist gazing at your lips without stealing a quick kiss. A man clingy to his wife. "I had just exorcised a special grade cursed spirit when I started feeling dizzy. My head began to spin."
Satoru reveals a pensive expression on the face, one hand resting on his chin. The most powerful sorcerer is contemplating all the possibilities to uncover the reason behind that eventuality concerning your cursed technique.
"So, I suppose that might have been the reason you didn't recover yourself at that moment, considering you experienced signs of fainting. Your brain became destabilized." He pronounces, cautiously, witnessing you confirm the information. "Were you feeling like that before you got the fight started?"
"When we split up to head towards the mission I was feeling fine." The corner of your mouth moves, you display your teeth to the man in an attempt to reassure him. Gosh, he is being so serious about that. "Maybe I used up too much of my energy, I guess I hit my limit. That's it."
"Hmm, there's something more. It's interesting and surprising how your energy flow is strongest now." The white-haired man is examining you with a curious look.
"Are you saying I'm accumulating this more than usual? Is that possible?"
"It's a fact. And I'm the one confirming it, little sweetheart." There is a smug smile playing on his lips. "But at least you're feeling better right now, yeah?"
"Hell yeah, I feel brand spanking new thanks to Shoko's skills!" You are shooting fire arrows with your eyes towards the bold man. "Can you stop staring at my tits now?"
"I'm just checking to make sure everything's really okay." He speaks with such honesty, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. Satoru cannot shake off the thought of how beautiful you look to him, a very sugary sweet and his favorite. You make him feel so mushy and nearly diabetic.
However, Gojo Satoru is a natural provocateur.
"You're getting on my nerves, 'Toru."
He opens his mouth to laugh out loud, giving you a wink. You also join in his laughter as he starts poking your body several times, this real jokerster tickling you. The antics are suddenly interrupted the moment someone knocks on the door. Shoko Ieiri appears seconds later behind it, revealing only the upper part of her body.
"Sorry to interrupt the lovebirds." She smiles faintly, continuing: "I need a quick minute to talk to Satoru." The experienced doctor has a lit cigarette between her fingers, she is pointing it in your direction. You see its tip sparkling at you. "And you, go rest. Don't even think about escaping from that stretcher until we come back."
"You heard that, huh? This time it didn't come out of my mouth." Gojo has one finger pointed at the tongue he sticks out.
You gaze at them and fold your arms, simply accepting your fate.
"Alright. Goodbye." You are turning your back on them and burrowing into the blanket. "If possible, turn off the light before you guys leave."
"Going to sleep without giving me a kiss? That's not fair." Satoru is shocked enough, a pout forming on his lips and a puppy dog look in his eyes. He truly displays his emotions, reminding you of how every night Satoru Gojo questions that same thing after going to bed with you. Every night, the same thing.
"Okay, you two. I'll wait outside." The woman manages to capture the attention of both of you before the noise of her high heels against the floor fades away.
As soon as she departs, warm lips land on the side of your neck and journey up to your mouth. You need to raise your head to reach Satoru's lips, his skin burning against yours like a flame. The instant his hand wraps around the flesh of your waist and grips it tightly, you understand that he would never let you escape his grasp, or his domain expansion. He is kissing you as if he were thirsty and you were the water fountain, this man is showing you how much he requires you in his life. Preferably alive, of course. Otherwise, he will make sure of it for you.
"Hmmm, get outta here. I promise I'll make it up to you with a full kiss later." You moan at the touch, trying not to show that you're shivering just to not further inflate his already oversized ego. As if it were possible to be any bigger than usual.
"Oh, is that so? You know I'll hold you to that, babe." He growls near your ear.
At the moment the sorcerer is leaving the room, he halts on his path and gives you a long look with his blue eyes. Inside them, Satoru harbors concern.
"What's going on?"
"I'm feeling sorry for my friend." Ieiri ignores Satoru, making one's way to her desk. Instantly, a breeze from outside the window extinguishes the cigarette ember in her hand, smoke spreading throughout the room. "She is truly doomed to sacrifice her life, including putting up with your strong-willed nature for the rest of her life."
"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" Satoru wears a playful smile on his lips. He places his hands in his trouser pockets in a relaxed and unconcerned posture, anticipating a highly amusing joke.
"You have no idea what's happening, do you? And what's going to happen from now on." She sets aside the cigarette, burying it in the ashtray on the table. Gojo watches everything attentively before rolling his eyes, he's starting to get bored with all the fuss. "But I believe you may have already noticed that the train is off the rails."
The doctor is moving around the small armchair in the room. When Shoko sits down, she leans her back against the backrest and then crosses her legs, silently facing Satoru. The expression on the white-haired man's face is impassive. He wishes he had the ability to read minds.
"Y/N is pregnant, Satoru." The sound of Ieiri's sigh is loud. "She is carrying your child in her womb. It's extraordinary that the baby has survived."
Satoru Gojo's world crumbles once more, for the second time that day. Not only is his own world shaken, but also the entire Jujutsu society.
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