#we will all hang out together forever in the tree

[swaglet]

I think it's sooo fucked up that there is no afterlife and your brain just shuts off and there's nothing left after you die because if it was guaranteed that i could spend eternity in a heavenly blissful slumber with my baby boy after i died (and my boyfriend and jellybean and tonka after they all passed too and we hang out in our little heaven together forever) i would become like chaste and follow a god's rules or something so i can get into that heaven but it's a shame that i can't trick myself into believing that kind of sillyness. i loved him so much while he was here and was the best momma i could be for him and he was my best little boy ever and that's the end of it and that's ok

[totallywoman]

book stuff that i will never get over being cut from the movies:

•the appalachian accent of the characters

•madge

•katniss and peeta helping clean up haymitch on the train

•katniss recognizing lavinia

•katniss bawling her eyes out after her private training session

•katniss literally almost dying of thirst in the games

•rue and katniss’s relationship

•the extent of peeta’s injury

•SASSY👏PEETA👏MELLARK👏👏👏👏

•the conversations between peeta and katniss in the cave

•not using a magic cream to magically heal peetas leg like hello

•the mutts with the eyes of the tributes

•cato suffering all night

•peeta almost dying on top of the cornucopia

•katniss going insane on the hovercraft as they work on peeta

•PEETA LOSING HIS LEG

•peeta finding out it was an act

•the frequency of katniss and peeta’s nights on the victory tour train

•plutarch’s mockingjay watch

•madge and katniss’s friendship

•katniss and peeta’s bantering relationship

•bonnie and twill

•katniss breaking her heel and peeta putting her to bed

•the time katniss and peeta spent together working on the plant book during her recovery (this is where their relationship changed. i am forever bitter)

•katniss getting drunk and her breakdown after the news about the quell

•peeta coaching haymitch and katniss like careers

•katniss and peeta watching haymitch’s games (i understand this would have been hard bc there is a whole new movie coming about but shhhhhh)

•darius

•THE FREAKING ROOFTOP SCENE LIKE ARE WE SERIOUS???

•finnick’s relationship with mags and mourning her

•the way the fog left their skin all blistered so they had to put dark ointment all over themselves and looked crazy

•katniss and finnick scaring peeta by waking him up with the ointment

•the PASSION between katniss and peeta

•katniss raking her fingernails across haymitch’s face and then rage slamming her head on the table after finding out peeta was captured

•the state of katniss’s mental deterioration in 13

•katniss’s prep team being tortured

•”i’m only human, odair”

•katniss and finnick’s bonding

•delly being the first one to talk to peeta (bc why did they use PRIM??? the point was to find someone with no connection to katniss and they chose PRIM???)

•peeta listening to “the hanging tree” and asking about burdock

•katniss and johanna rooming together

•peeta frosting annie and finnick’s wedding cake

•peeta flirting with annie and taking digs at katniss in the cafeteria

•more of tigris

•katniss going completely mute after prim dies

•katniss biting into peeta’s hand while he stops her from taking the nightlock pill (this is such an important moment in their relationship)

•katniss and peeta’s burns

•katniss’s trial while being incredibly inclined to 💀

•katniss singing during her trial!!!!! bc it’s not over until the mockingjay sings

•peeta’s stay at the capitol mental institution

•katniss and peeta GROWING back together (IT’S SLOW!!!!)

•i love that they used jen’s nephews don’t get me wrong but i wish they included katniss and peeta’s daughter

•lucy gray singing the valley song in the zoo

•the tribute’s being forced to walk in the procession at arachne’s funeral

•the tribute who killed her being suspended by a crane

•maude ivory discovering mayfair’s body

•coriolanus completely taking advantage of the plinths after sejanus’ exucution

please add more!!!!!

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢʏᴀʀᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 𝟸

yan gyaru who is your clingy bestfriend

Every morning, he made sure to time his arrival perfectly so that he’d “accidentally” run into you near the lockers. "N/n!~" He grinned at you as you opened you locker, twirling his hair.

“Kajiro,” you greeted, adjusting your bag. “What’s up?”

“Just waiting for my favorite person, obviously.” He grinned, stepping closer. “You know, we should totally hang out after school today. I’ve been thinking about you all morning.” He pouted, trying to convince you. "wait no, we should have a sleepover!" His face lit up like a Christmas tree, eyes sparkling with excitement as you stared at him confused

"Im bus-"

"Okay, ill be at your house at 3pm, baby!" He said as he waved at you and left, blowing you a kiss.

meanwhile ur friend next to you looks at u weirdly "how tf did you bag that" You js shrugged

yan gyaru who while during class, spams u

ᴋ𝟺ᴊɪғᴏʀʟɪғᴇᴇᴇᴇ ׂ

hiii n/n :3

lets meet uppp!!!!

i wanna see ur faceee ;3

babyyyyy cmonnnn

im SOOOOO bored in this class without uuuu

i need to see u before i go crazyyyy :(

ʜᴏᴇsʟᴜᴠʏ/ɴ

bruh no

last time we met up in the middle of class, u wanted me to js skip n go on a date

n stop texting im abt to get my phone taken by the teacher

ᴋ𝟺ᴊɪғᴏʀʟɪғᴇᴇᴇᴇ ׂ

:( n/n ur so mean!

n change ur username nowwww!!!!

im supposed to be the only hoe that loves u!!!

GASPPP

do u have other hoes?!?!?!??! Are u cheating??!?!?! Youve been playing hello kitty adventure with some other bitches?!??!!?N/n, i will rip their scalp off their head, and throw a table at them.

Y/n L/n, who are the bitches u call hoes?

y/n, if u dont block them now, ur gonnna see me on the news for murder.

yan gyaru who during english class, just writes poets about his love to you. In art, he draws you and him getting married. In math, he daydreams about the day you guys live in a cute cottage home with your 2 bunnies, and a cat.

yan gyaru who once the final bell rings, hes OUT that class, practically running out to go to your class so you wont leave him.

yan gyaru who finally found you, and was huffing and puffing from all that running before grinning at you. "Lets go, babe?" He said, grabbing your backpack from your shoulders and carrying it himself.

It’s Friday night, and you’ve somehow got dragged into having a sleepover with the guy who’s been obsessively crushing on you for ages—your bubbly gyaru friend, who just can’t get enough of you.

The whole walk to your house, he was gushing and nonstop talking about how fun it was gonna be. “Babe! This is gonna be so fun, I can’t wait!” he chirps, holding onto your arm tightly as if he has doubts that you were gonna run away.

yan gyaru who from the second he steps in your home, he’s a non-stop chatterbox. He’s talking about everything—school, the latest drama, his favorite new clothes, and of course, you. His eyes are constantly on you, lighting up every time you laugh or even just nod along, internally cheering that he made you laugh.

“Oh my god, Y/N, have you seen the latest episode of that show we talked about? We have to watch it together tonight! It’s gonna blow your mind!” He said as he played with your hair.

You can tell he’s beyond excited just to be around you, and his energy is contagious. He’s always smiling, laughing, and playfully bumping your shoulder whenever he makes a joke.

yan gyaru whose endlessly complimenting you. He just can’t stop complimenting you. Whether you’re dressed up or in casual sleepover clothes, he’s still in awe of you. “You look cute even in pajamas, Y/N. Like, how is that fair?” He pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together as he rubbed your arm up and down

He loves finding excuses to be near you—adjusting your hair, teasing you about how comfy you look, or even just admiring your smile. “You’re seriously too cute, I’m not even joking. I could stare at you forever, hehe~.”

"bro"

yan gyaru who inists on staying up late even if your half asleep by 10 pm. He’s full of bubbly energy, even when you’re eyes are starting to close. “We can’t go to bed yet! We have to at least talk about… everything!”

He starts asking more personal questions as the night goes on, his obsession peeking through. “What’s your favorite part of the day? Did you think about me at all today?” His voice is playful, but you can tell he genuinely cares about your answers by the way he intently listens

When you start to get drowsy and start giving mumbled answers, he gives a soft laugh. “You’re so pretty when you’re sleepy. Here, let’s get comfy,” he says, tugging the blanket closer around you both.

yan gyaru who the next morning,

yan gyaru who teasing you about how you slept, offering to make breakfast, and texting you immediately after he leaves

ᴋ𝟺ᴊɪғᴏʀʟɪғᴇᴇᴇᴇ ׂ

last night was soooo funnn! lets do it again this week yeah? :3

yan gyaru who is ur fashionista bestie who is a little too obsessed with you <3

[buckyalpine]

Buttercup

Bucky x Reader

Childhood friends to lovers. Thought of this randomly and I thought it was so cute because imagine chubby baby Bucky in love with his cute little neighbor. Imagine this little boy with his messy mop of brown hair on his head, rosy cheeks, blushing over his friend who he adores so much. He toddles over to her porch, excited over the very important game of hide and seek they had planned for the day.

Y/n, y/l/n, or Buttercup according to him is his favorite person in the whole world besides Stevie. He loves Steve, he knows he does, but Buttercup is different. He gets these little butterflies in that chubby belly of his whenever they play together. He's usually a rambunctious devil but not at all with her. If she wants a tea party, he'll sit with her on her yard with a picnic mat spread out, always sneaking a few cookies from the jar for them to share.

She really likes the swing that hangs on the branch of the tree in front of his house. He'll push her with all his might till she squeals with laughter; a big toothy grin on his face when she says faster Bucky. When she trips over and scrapes her knee, he's dashing to his house to find a band aid, blowing on the cut just like his ma does when he hurts himself, he's so careful with his shaky little hands.

"Tank you Bucky" You say between a sniffle, kissing his cheek without thinking, the both of you innocently blinking at each other before running off and playing again. All Bucky knows is that he wants Buttercup by his side for his whole entire life.

So imagine his joy when he finds out its a possibility.

He's in his nicest buttoned shirt, tucked into his dress pants and polished shoes, hair combed over to the side. He kicks his legs while sitting with his mother, father and sisters, watching one of their family friends recite their vows at the altar. Winnifred already had to place her hand on his leg twice to keep him still, warning him that he had to behave at weddings since it was an important day.

"Why are they getting married?" He asks, wondering what the big deal was if they were in church on a Saturday.

"Because they care about each other Jamie, they'll be happy together forever" She whispers, pulling her squirmy little one onto her lap so he can see better.

“Can me and y/n get married mama?” He asks with large innocent eyes, hopeful she’ll say yes.

“You wanna marry y/n, huh?” She coos, brushing back the strands of soft hair that cover his forehead. “Y’know you’ll have to take care of her baby”

“I know” He nods with confidence, of course he'd always take care of his Buttercup.

“And you’ll have to work real hard" Again he nods, just waiting for her to say yes, maybe he can get married tomorrow! "You gotta love her with all your heart"

"I do mama, I do!"

"Then one day baby boy, one day you can marry her"

"But I wanna marry her now!" Bucky doesn't understand what the issue was, he knew he loved his Buttercup right then and there, why did he have to wait?

"Just wait a little while okay? My sweet little boy" Winifred laughed at her baby's fallen face, kissing his flushed cheek. "Before you know it, it'll be your turn"

Patience wasn't Bucky's strong suit but if it meant he'd be with you, he'd wait as long as he had to. He sat on the soft grass with you under the shade of a tree, sipping on a cup of lemonade your mom had brought out for you both.

“I wanna marry you” he pouts, "But mama says I have to wait and dad said I gotta ask p'mission first"

"Then we can be best f'wends forever?" You ask excitedly and he grins in response.

"F'wends forever"

"You promise?"

"I promise"

Now I thought about stopping this fic here but....

Some may have thought that eventually his puppy love lose its fire but no. His crush doesn't ever die down. Not when he nicks a flower from his mothers prized garden when you turn 5. Not when he gives you his favorite brown bear for Christmas. Not when he saves up all his allowance to buy you your first porcelain doll for your 10th birthday. It just grows and grow until he stands before you, wiping the tear that slips down your cheek when he comes to say good bye before going off to the army.

“One day m’gonna marry you doll" He whispers, doing his best to blink back his own tears while you sniffle against his chest.

"You promise?" You ask him with the same innocent doe eyes you had when you were little,

"I promise" He hugs you tighter, not wanting to let you go, the both of you spending the afternoon under the same shady tree. His mothers ring is kept safely in a box, tucked away in his room. He'd spoken to your father in private as soon as you'd both turned 18, not wanting to waste a second. All he had to do was return, safe and sound to his Buttercup.

Bucky goes through hell, sees the worst things imaginable, some days he struggles to keep his eyes open, cuts and wounds littering his battered body. However, when he closes his eyes and thinks about her smile, the way he'd get butterflies when she giggles, he knows he has to survive and come home. It doesn't matter how hard it is to keep going now because one day it'll all be worth it.

Which is why he practically runs home once the war is over, zipping in and out of his house and up to the porch next door, panting with flushed cheeks. He hears shuffling on the other side, his heart beating erratically while clutching onto the ring, the knob clicking open.

"Buttercup?"

"Jamie!" You gasp, tears running down your face in no time as you throw your arms around him, your feet lifting off the ground as he spins you. "You're back!"

"I promised you doll" He presses his forehead against yours before sinking down on one knee, smiling up at you while you choke back a sob, his hand holding onto yours.

"Buttercup, will you-

"Yes, Jamie yes!!" You nod frantically, while he happily slips the ring onto your finger before kissing you deeply, only pulling away to breathe. He doesn't give you long, pulling you back for more, his tongue laced with yours, unbothered that you're both on the porch, most of the neighbor watching quietly with steamy eyes.

Honestly, imagine how emotional everyone would be seeing the handsome soldier with his beautiful sweet bride up at the altar, going rom little babies to children to two souls that were meant to be together from the start. So cute.

[memorabxlia]

First Christmas ━ 민규

genre: fluff summary: Mingyu’s determined to make his baby’s first Christmas unforgettable warnings: est relationship, mentions parenthood, mentions christmas traditions pairing: nonidol!mingyu x fem!reader wc: 1.8k a/n: FIRST FIC FOR THE EVENT LET’S GOOO!!! I know we’re starting off a little shaky but trust me there are more to come!!! enjoy lovelies!! ♡︎♡︎ nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The house is quiet, filled only with the gentle hum of holiday music as you open the box of decorations you and Mingyu bought earlier in the week. It’s your first Christmas as a family of three, and even though your baby is too young to remember, there’s something about this holiday that feels new, magical, and deeply significant. This isn’t just another December 25th—it’s the start of a lifetime of Christmases together.

You glance over at Mingyu, who’s unfolding a tangled string of Christmas lights with the determination of a man on a mission. He’s been excited about decorating since the start of September, brainstorming ideas for the tree, the garland, even the perfect place to hang stockings. You watch, smiling, as he wrangles the lights into submission, his enthusiasm contagious.

“Mingyu, you know the baby isn’t going to remember all of this, right?” you tease, holding up a sparkling ornament shaped like a star.

He looks up with a mischievous grin. “I know, but we will,” he says, glancing over at the baby, lying in a soft blanket on the floor, gazing up at the lights in wide-eyed wonder. “And besides, look at them—they’re already enchanted.”

You can’t help but smile. Your child’s tiny hands reach up toward the glimmering lights, their eyes fixed on the sparkling colors. It’s a small moment, but you feel its weight in your heart. Mingyu settles beside you on the floor, passing you ornaments, and together you marvel at how much has changed in a single year.

“Okay, you win,” you whisper, nudging him playfully. “Let’s make this the best Christmas they’ll never remember.”

He grins, handing you a tiny reindeer ornament. “This one should go up high—so it catches the light, don’t you think?”

Laughing, you find a place on the tree for each ornament he hands you. Every now and then, Mingyu leans down to make silly faces at the baby, who giggles with delight. It’s a simple, perfect scene, one that feels like something out of a holiday movie. The two of you move in an easy rhythm, hanging ornaments and sharing soft laughter as you create a cozy holiday home for your growing family.

When the tree is fully decorated, Mingyu drags a stepladder over to string lights around the room. You watch as he hums to himself, casting quick glances at the baby to see their reaction to each new twinkle of lights. The room fills with a warm glow, transforming the space into something magical, and you realize that these are the memories you’ll treasure forever.

Later that evening, you settle into the couch together, the baby nestled between you, gazing up at the lights with sleepy eyes. Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you sit in comfortable silence, watching the twinkling lights as a sense of contentment fills the room.

But even as you sit there, Mingyu’s eyes dart toward the small pile of gifts already collecting in the corner. You can see the gears turning in his mind, his excitement building for the next part of the holiday preparations.

“Mingyu,” you murmur, sensing his thoughts, “don’t tell me you’re already thinking about more gifts.”

He looks at you sheepishly, giving a little shrug. “I just want it to be special,” he whispers, eyes bright with an enthusiasm that you know won’t be easy to contain.

And as you share a smile, you realize this is just the beginning of the adventure he’s about to embark on, driven by the desire to make this Christmas unforgettable.

The next morning, you wake to find Mingyu already up, browsing on his phone with a look of intense concentration. You tiptoe up behind him and peek over his shoulder to see him scrolling through an online store, where dozens of stuffed animals fill the screen, each one cuter than the last.

“Oh no,” you sigh, trying to stifle a laugh. “I thought we agreed that one or two gifts would be enough.”

Mingyu turns to you, his eyes sparkling with childlike enthusiasm. “But look at this one!” He shows you a picture of a plush penguin with a tiny scarf. “Don’t you think they’d love it?”

You raise an eyebrow, barely able to hold back your smile. “Mingyu, they’re not even going to remember this Christmas. How many stuffed animals does a six-month-old really need?”

He gives a soft, playful pout. “They may not remember, but we will. Besides, I want them to have the best holiday possible, even if they’re too little to know it yet.”

You sigh—not because you’re frustrated, but because you understand him completely. This is a first for both of you: not just the baby’s first Christmas, but your first chance to pour all your love and excitement into a holiday that now feels infinitely more meaningful. Mingyu, ever the sentimental one, is fully immersed in making it magical.

“All right,” you concede, folding your arms with a soft smile. “But let’s at least set a limit, or else this room is going to look like a stuffed animal zoo by Christmas Eve.”

He laughs, holding up his hands as if surrendering. “Deal. A ‘reasonable’ number of stuffies. I’ll keep it in check. Maybe.”

But as the days go by, you quickly realize that Mingyu’s idea of “reasonable” might be different than yours. Every time you pass a shop or holiday market, he pauses, eyes catching on every tiny bear, bunny, and penguin plush. Each one seems to call out to him, whispering, “Pick me!” You can’t help but laugh at his determination.

By mid-December, a steadily growing collection of plush animals takes shape in the living room. It starts with a reindeer and a tiny polar bear. Then, one day, you come home to find a delicate penguin perched beside the baby’s crib, and you just shake your head, knowing Mingyu was responsible.

One evening, as you’re tidying up, you catch him slipping a few more toys into a closet, his face guilty but delighted.

“Mingyu,” you say, hands on your hips, “we’re going to need an intervention soon.”

He laughs, closing the closet door with a soft click. “I just…can’t help it. This is our baby’s first Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice soft with wonder. “It feels like every gift is a little piece of love I can leave behind for them.”

You sigh, leaning into his shoulder. “Just promise me we’re stopping after this one last round.”

He smiles down at you with a gleam in his eye, one that suggests he might still have a few surprises up his sleeve.

And as Christmas Eve approaches, you start to suspect that “one last round” might have been a bit too optimistic.

Christmas Eve arrives, filling the house with warmth and holiday magic. The tree glows softly, filling the room with a gentle light, and there’s a quiet excitement in the air—a feeling that something wonderful is about to happen, even though you know your baby is too young to understand.

Mingyu has been particularly animated all day, flitting in and out of rooms, fiddling with last-minute decorations, and casting frequent glances toward the closet where he’s stashed the “reasonable” collection of gifts. You recognize that look: it’s the look of a man who’s done something just slightly mischievous and can barely contain his excitement.

After dinner, with the baby settled in your lap, you finally turn to him, arching an eyebrow. “All right, Mingyu. Are you going to show me what you’ve been hiding, or are we playing Christmas hide-and-seek?”

He grins, looking almost boyish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

“Depends,” you reply, trying to suppress a laugh. “If that closet is as full as I think it is, we might need to have a talk about what ‘reasonable’ really means.”

With a slightly guilty smile, Mingyu stands up and heads to the closet, beckoning you to follow. When he opens the door, you can’t help but gasp. The closet is packed—absolutely packed—with an assortment of plush animals, rattles, soft blankets, and toys in all shapes and sizes. There’s a mountain of bears, penguins, reindeer, and rabbits, all piled together in a chaotic but undeniably adorable heap.

“Mingyu!” you exclaim, trying to sound stern but failing to keep the laughter out of your voice. “How on earth did you manage to buy all of this without me noticing?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile creeping across his face. “I…may have hidden a few things. But look! Can you imagine how cute they’ll look under the tree tomorrow morning?”

You cover your mouth, laughing at the thought. There’s something undeniably charming about the sight of this plush avalanche, each toy a little piece of his love. Seeing him now—eyes bright with excitement, utterly captivated by the holiday spirit—you can’t bring yourself to be upset. After all, this is Mingyu. He loves with his whole heart, and he always has a special way of showing it.

Together, you arrange the gifts under the tree, making small piles and positioning each plush animal with care. Mingyu takes his time, stepping back occasionally to admire his handiwork like a proud artist. When the baby wakes from a nap, you bring them over to show them the magical sight. They stare wide-eyed at the colors and shapes, their tiny fingers reaching out to touch a soft reindeer that Mingyu holds up. Their laughter fills the room, and Mingyu’s face lights up as if he’s witnessing pure magic.

“See?” he whispers. “They love it already.”

You watch him, warmth filling your chest. This isn’t just about the gifts; it’s about creating a home full of joy and love, where your child can grow up surrounded by warmth and care.

The next morning dawns softly, golden light streaming through the windows. You wake to the smell of coffee and the sight of Mingyu in the living room, arranging the presents with care. When the baby wakes, the three of you gather around the tree, sharing the wonder of Christmas morning.

One by one, you unwrap each gift. The baby giggles at the crinkling sound of wrapping paper, reaching out to touch each plush animal Mingyu hands them. Each gift is a reflection of his thoughtfulness and love, and the warmth of the morning fills you both with a quiet joy that words can’t describe.

Finally, you sit among the sea of toys, savoring the stillness. Mingyu reaches for your hand, a soft smile on his face.

“This,” he says quietly, “is the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for.”

You smile back, squeezing his hand. “And next year, there will be even more moments like this.”

As the day winds down, you and Mingyu sit together, wrapped in a blanket, talking about the future and dreaming of all the Christmases still to come.

Outside, snow begins to fall again, blanketing the world in quiet softness. And as the clock ticks closer to midnight, you close your eyes, content in the knowledge that this is only the beginning.

❥﹒ seventeen taglist: @amarecerasus

[mcflymemes]

"I'M SORRY, I JUST HAD TO FIND YOU" PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue for those desperate times when you just have to see them, no matter what anyone else says, adjust as necessary

i couldn't wait another minute apart from you.

did you expect me to just wait around for you to show up?

i did everything i could to find you.

i thought i did a pretty good job covering my tracks.

they helped me track you down.

i needed to see you.

they can't hurt us anymore.

i come all this way to see you, and this is the greeting i get?

i thought you'd be glad to see me.

it took me forever to find you.

how long have you been looking for me?

it's safer for the both of us if we stop seeing each other.

i thought i told you not to find me.

this was for your own good, you know. i leave, and you stay there, unharmed.

can we find somewhere private to talk?

they said if i left, they wouldn't hurt you.

been searching for you for months, believe it or not.

you weren't supposed to expect me.

this was going to be a surprise.

they can't stop me from seeing you.

would you please let me inside?

tell me where you are, or i'll figure it out myself.

i'm not going to let them prevent us from being together.

you and i... we have to be together. no matter what.

you sure don't make it easy to follow you.

i've been tracking you for miles.

so you're real. the legends are true.

you're pretty good at covering your tracks.

i started asking around, and they pointed me in the right direction.

i got your letter and came as fast as i could.

i can reach your window if i climb this tree.

give me a clue. anything. tell me where you're hiding.

think you could come around back and unlock the door for me?

hey. it's me. would you please let me in?

you're the one they speak about, the one that can fix things.

i know i'm not what you expected.

i couldn't wait another minute.

it's starting to rain. why don't you come inside for a minute?

lecture me later. for now, let's appreciate this time we have together.

i know this looks bad, but... i just had to see you.

they think they can stop me from seeing you.

i don't want to leave your side, not for a minute.

the path was treacherous, but the reward was worth every second.

i'd do anything to find you.

i wanted to find you and thank you for what you did for me.

you're taking a big risk by finding me.

you told me to look for you, and so i did.

is there a key to this door?

we're not supposed to be seen together.

i'm going to get you out of there. just hang on.

when i came looking for you, i didn't expect to find you like this.

they told me you had all the answers. they said you could fix things if i tracked you down.

i've been on your trail for weeks now.

it's safer if we're not seen together.

who told you where i was? was it [name]?

i didn't want you to find me like this.

why do you want to hide from me?

we're stronger if we're together.

[coolwyous]

can we get hcs of hockey!dani before and after they got together 😞😞😞 yk

hockey!dani my LOVE and future aint shit bd <333 fwb era and gf era are soooo different but here r my takes

  ୭˚. 𝙛𝙬𝙗 𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮!𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙖 would go days without texting you and when you'd finally get sick of it and hit the dreaded double text. only for her to say 'didn't u see my private story' where she's constantly asking who wants to hang out. it makes you want to crash out, how difficult she can be sometimes, but when she's the one hitting you up late at night with another 'wyd gorgeous' you realize you're no better than she is, leaving her opened until she's the one facetiming you out of desperation, asking you to come over when she's done with practice or whining that you haven't made an effort to see her after her away game. 'damn you'd lowkey b hurting my feelings if i cared a lil bit' she'd text you, and you're about to put her shit on absolute blast, but she follows it up with a picture of her, sweaty and red in the face from practice, and says something stupid about not wanting to shower alone. you hate her a little bit for how stupid her lines are, but hate yourself for the fact that you find her so attractive, her horrible lines work...

  ୭˚. 𝙛𝙬𝙗 𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮!𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙖 would take any stupid opportunity to flex how athletic she is, from hitting backflips in your yard to climbing the tree to sneak in through your window like some kind of monkey. you never quite understood exactly what point she was trying to prove, but the giant grin she'd give you each time she'd land another stupid trick on the ice made you roll your eyes. "you're worse than a toddler on fucking crack," you'd complain, only for her to step back and say some stupid shit like "can a toddler on crack do this?" and accomplish some other feat. you finally realize these stupid bids for attention are just her way of getting your attention, and the first time you ever give her a sarcastic "wow, so cool" she's beaming wider than you could have imagined.

  ୭˚. 𝙜𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮!𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙖 , the day after you two finally made things official, flat out deactivated her instagram. you were confused at first, until a new account (icedoutdanz became simply daniavan_) followed you. "why'd you make a new account?" you asked her when you finally saw her later that day for your coffee date, and she seems almost hesitant about sharing her reasoning. "i thought we deserved a fresh start," she tells you, and you won't admit how much it warms you to see how willing she is to set you guys up for success. you realize it's a private account, the only people she follows being close friends and teammates. "i'll kill anyone in your dm's with my bare hands," you threaten, and she lights up and grabs your chin to give you a reassuring kiss. "i should have gotten rid of the roster earlier if it would have made it easier to bag you," she'd grin, littering kisses along your cheeks.

  ୭˚. 𝙜𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮!𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙖 won't admit that she's nervous to meet your parents, even if you remind her you've known them even longer than the two of you have known each other. "it's different when we're dating," she presses, and you're honestly thrilled knowing she's wanting to make sure it goes well. she's bouncing her leg the whole drive to your house, and is uncharacteristically silent as you two wait outside the door, until you rub your thumb across her knuckles and grip her hand. as soon as your dad opens the door, all worries melt away— dani so easily taps into that endless fountain of reckless confidence, and this is no different. "so... can i start calling you dad?" she greets, only for him to glare at you, then at her. "i'll kill you," he says flatly, inviting you both in. "i see where you get it from," she grins, pointing to the man, forever enthused to push all his buttons. after dinner, your mom pulls you aside to take some plates of leftovers as dani is debating with your dad and brothers some stupid hockey things. "the whole night, she can't stop looking at you. i like that in someone who plans to date you," she tells you, a knowing smile on her face. you peek at her in the living room, fearlessly rambling some hot take you know she's probably refusing to step down from. you feel your cheeks go warm at the sight of her— fearless, headstrong dani, and she's unapologetically in love with you.

( you wonder how you ever imagined meeting someone this authentically, vibrantly themselves and not falling head over heels in love. )

[diyasgarden]

merry christmas, please don’t come

“Oh, golden boy, you shined a light on our home and at your best you were magic we were sold. But don't tell 'em what you told me. Don't even tell 'em that you know me.I would rather burn forever”

from “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” by the Bleachers

“What do you mean Patrick isn’t coming?”

Art doesn’t know how many times they’ve had this conversation. (He stopped keeping track after the fifth time)

Memory loss, a dwindling attention span, and blanking. All problems the doctors said his grandmother would struggle with after her stroke. He’d expected difficulties with remembering her routine or where she was. Even the people around her. General things, he could walk her through. Not something so specific. And frankly, considering all the things she could forget, this feels like a cruel joke.

He lets out a steady exhale, stepping closer to where his grandmother stands by the small fir covered in lights, tinsel, and other markers of the Christmas season. Sebastian, the old tabby, is nuzzled right by where his grandmother placed the small, wrapped box under the tree, looking up at him with a cautious gaze.

“He isn’t able to come this year,” Art repeats, reaching to the home-made popsicle candy cane ornament hanging at arm’s length on the tree. It was the decoration he made with Patrick when he came to visit Christmas in 2000 — the first of a long line of ornaments they’d make together for the holiday. 

His grandmother lets out a gentle, albeit unbelieving scoff as she shakes her head. “He always comes,” she remarks, a blatant dismissal of Art’s words. 

His thumb rubs aimlessly over the painted birchwood decoration, as he looks back at her with a tentative gaze. She wasn’t wrong, Patrick would always come for the holiday. After spending Hanukkah with his folks, he’d fly out to the midwest by the twenty-fourth and spend the rest of winter break with him. “For a proper Christmas experience” he’d tease, although Art knew that he just didn’t want to be at home.

Now it’s the twenty-third and he was nowhere in sight. 

“Well he isn’t this year, grandma,” Art sighs, eyes quickly darting back to the tree. The ornaments he made with Patrick are there on nearly every other branch. His thumb presses down harder on the candy-cane popsicle, continuing it's steady back and forth motion, as his eyes jump from one decoration to the next.

Her eyebrows knit and she looks down to the present she placed for Patrick, Art’s gaze trailing behind her’s. In smooth, cursive black sharpie, the word “Pat” is written on top of the metallic red wrapping paper. It's small enough that Art can’t figure out what it is, but its presence may as well take up the whole room. 

“Did he say why?” she suddenly asks, instantly looking back up to him. 

The question is ironic. As if Patrick had any say in the decision. As if he chose not to come. Really Art should just say "he isn't welcome here" and move on. But that's an over simplification in itself.

Art turns his head up to her and settles with: “He’s busy.” 

t wasn’t a lie. The last time he checked, Patrick was somewhere in the Mediterranean, probably trying his luck with the European tour. Or at least that’s what Art gathered from Patrick’s recent facebook posts. (He allowed himself a peek every once in a while to keep his curiosity at bay)

His grandma takes in a soft inhale, looking back down at the present. Sebastian moves away from the box to rub against her leg with a purr, and she looks down at the cat, before shrugging. “We’ll keep it in case he comes.” 

He supposed the danger of going no-contact with Patrick meant that his old friend really had no way of knowing what Art expected.

And Patrick always had a tendency to see what he wanted.

we'll keep it in case he comes

Suddenly, Art feels a sharp poke in his hand, and he turns back to where his finger holds the popsicle stick decoration to see a splinter in his thumb.

He stares at it for a moment and then yanks the decoration off the tree.

It’s around midnight when he goes to properly handle the decorations.

He tip-toes down the stairs, cautious to avoid Sebastian on the railing who is already looking at him with an accusatory gaze. If it wasn't for the cat's general hatred of him, he'd assume it knew exactly what he is about to do. When he walks to the kitchen to grab a trash bag, he can hear the cat hiss. Drawing out an eye roll as he creeps towards the tree in the living room.

The place is only illuminated by the yellow-toned string of lights on the tree, and he just stands there, taking in all the ornaments he is about to take down. 

Some wash pin-figures

Couple of snow globe bulbs

Many paper snowflakes. 

And the candy cane popsicles.  

He lets out a deep exhale before quietly pulling each decoration from the tree and placing it gently into the trash bag. He moves quietly and focuses his eyes on the motions of his hands, not allowing himself to look at any ornament longer than he has to. Only Sebastian’s displeased purrs filling the room.

By the time he’s done, his stomach churns at the sight of the tree now mostly decorated by store bought figures, tinsel, and lights. It’s a foreign sight he keeps looking at, up and down, until eventually the little present with the cursive “Pat” written on-top catches his attention. 

The metallic red wrapping of the little box reflects the Christmas tree lights back like a kaleidoscope. Art just stares down at the sight, still unsure of what the present is. 

Hesitantly, he bends to the floor and gingerly reaches for the box, picking it up in a sluggish motion. It fits into the palm of his hand, and makes no noise. There's a certain weight to it that he can’t place. and his thumb deliberately runs against the tape of wrapping paper.

Then with the same sluggish movement from before, he puts it back down underneath the tree. His hands flex against where he holds the trash bag, and he remains on the ground. Eyes tracing the loops of his grandmother's handwriting and the fractured reflections of colored light.

When he eventually pushes himself to go back upstairs, he puts the bag in the back corner of his closet. Tucking it away behind some old duffle bags from his time at the academy before dragging himself to bed.

Patrick posts a photo of a Turkish marketplace on the twenty-fourth. Somewhere in Istanbul. Or Izmir.

Art doesn't really care where.

At least he was right about it being the Mediterranean. 

authors note: this is me fighting the art donaldson hater allegations!! not really sure how i feel about this, but i think of art and patrick everytime i hear this song and knew i had to write a fic based on it for them. although i did change the line for the title, just so it would fit better with the final product. many mixed feelings on this, but i hope you enjoyed it!! tell me what you think!!! and if you want an edit of artrick to this song...check this out!

art credit: from the December 1960 issue of the new yorker

[huxhsz]

— weightless paradise

transmigrated non-mc!reader x caleb

prev ch: 09 - distance┆series masterlist ┆next ch: 11 - hide'n'seek

This isn’t how the game was supposed to go. You're not supposed to be here. You're an anomaly. But if you’re already here, then… can’t you just enjoy it for now? Just for a little while? Before the main story begins? Before everything inevitably falls into place? ...Right?

— content warning/s:

n/a

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

CH. 010 — PLAYTIME

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across Gran’s backyard. The four of you—Zayne, Eden, Caleb, and you—are sprawled out in the grass, the remnants of an afternoon well spent scattered around. Chalk-drawn hopscotch squares fade on the pavement, an overturned basket of snacks lies nearby, and a homemade paper airplane from earlier flutters against a tree trunk. The scent of warm earth and freshly cut grass lingers in the air, mingling with the distant sound of wind chimes from Gran’s porch.

“I won,” Caleb announces, stretching his arms behind his head, smug. “Again.”

“You cheated,” Eden grumbles, rolling onto her stomach. She flicks a blade of grass at him. “You always cheat.”

Caleb gasps, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I would never.”

“You ‘would never’ get caught,” Zayne mutters, tossing a pebble in the air and catching it effortlessly.

You snort, shaking your head. “Sounds about right.”

Caleb turns to you, eyes wide with betrayal. “Et tu?”

You just grin, nudging him with your foot. “Face it, Caleb, you’re predictable.”

Eden hums, propping herself up on her elbows. “That’s why he always wins. We just keep falling for it.”

Zayne flicks another pebble into the air. “Or maybe you’re all just bad at playing.”

Eden throws a handful of grass at him, making him lean away slightly, expression unimpressed. “Says the guy who refuses to play half the time.”

Zayne shrugs. “I just prefer watching you all self-destruct.”

The four of you dissolve into laughter, the kind that only happens in moments like these—carefree, warm, untouched by the weight of the world.

After a while, Caleb rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. “What’s next? We could do another round, but I’d just win again.”

Eden groans. “Ugh, no. I want a game where you don’t have an unfair advantage.”

“What about hide and seek?” you suggest.

Zayne raises an eyebrow. “In the backyard?”

“We can go past the fence,” Caleb offers, already grinning. “Into the woods.”

Eden sits up, eyes gleaming. “Ooooh, now that’s an idea.”

“You guys just want an excuse to run around like maniacs,” Zayne mutters, though there’s a ghost of a smile on his face.

“So?” Caleb says, shoving Zayne’s shoulder. “Come on, don’t be boring.”

Zayne exhales, tilting his head toward the sky as if questioning why he even puts up with this. Finally, he nods. “Fine. But I’m not it.”

Eden claps her hands together. “Yes! Okay, not it!”

“Not it,” you say quickly.

Caleb narrows his eyes. “Wait—”

“Not it,” Zayne says smoothly.

Caleb stares at the three of you, then groans dramatically, flopping onto his back. “I hate all of you.”

“Love you too,” you chirp before taking off toward the woods.

The rest of them scramble after you, laughter trailing behind you, the evening settling in but the night still far away. Eventually, as golden hour fully descends, the game slows, and exhaustion begins to set in.

Eden flops onto the grass again, staring up at the dimming sky. “I wish this could last forever.”

Zayne glances at her, something unreadable in his expression, but says nothing.

Caleb, beside you, exhales softly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Me too.”

[vampiretendencies]

JJ thinking about your future together - especially when he is drunk

he can handle his liquor to a certain extent, though when you’re near he loses half his brain.

so normal obsessive boyfriend jj times a thousand, because he sees double of you and that’s an epiphany all in one.

jj didn’t hone in on the future as of late, now it’s all ‘i want us to have two dogs when we get our own place’ and ‘when our kids this’ and ‘when our kids that’. truth be told, jj has a penciled in notebook in the drawer of his nightstand, labeled ‘if i’m lucky enough to keep her around’ and any minuscule detail you say pertaining to the future— he repeats it to himself until he’s alone and can get to that damn notebook.

from the paint that you mentioned you want on your ideal forever home, to the decorations he notices that you gravitate more towards.

he’s sat under a large unoccupied tree, the two of you escaping the boneyard party. especially upon the realization that he’s had one two many. but he’s got his girl cozied daintly between the comfort of his legs, arms meeting at the centre of your torso— so what more could he ask for ?

your head was on his broad chest, his chin fitting like a puzzle piece to your forehead. thumbs rubbing in circular motions at the skin of your torso for not only you but himself. it’s been silence for the past twenty minutes, yet neither of you seem to mind— it was the presence that mattered.

“when we get our own place…” he started, lips fumbling a bit as he licked them. you grinned knowing what was to come would be evident of his love for you. jj was referring to the home the two of you get after apartments, after rentals, the home the two of you will spend the rest of your life in making endless babies. “we will be married ideally right baby?”

“mhm.”

“s-so i was thinkin’— y’know how when we would do dishes or whatever we have to take our rings off yeah?”

“yes…” unsure of where he was going with it

“m’gonna put a little hook on one of the cabinets, so we can hang them there until we’re done. they’ll be together, and we won’t lose them … just like how i don’t lose my way when m’with you.”

you failed to comprehend how he aimlessly comes up with ways to make you become besotted with him. your heart seizes, fluttering tenfold. living inside his words, you forget to answer and when you don’t he overthinks it being the worse idea humanly possible.

“or maybe not, m’just spitballin’. if you don’t want that we’ll figure something else out, pretty girl.”

eyes averting to yours, you drown him in a kiss that says all that went unsaid.

[disneyprincemuke]

santa baby * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic!femdriver

notes: hi i know i took forever to write this but uh what r u gonna do? ik u love me B)

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

you hum, whirling around at the camera crew settling right by the front of the mercedes racing home. “ah, it’s that time of years again, isn’t it?”

“yes! are you excited?”

you nod with a smile as you see a box being pulled out of the cart they’ve been lugging around in the paddocks for the video. “have you seen the present? got any hints for me?”

“aw, we can’t do that,” she giggles. “where’s the fun in that?”

secret santa is the yearly affair that you find yourself looking forward to as the year progresses. it’s always the santa hat and the fun of guessing who’s gotten you what this year. what used to be a silly game of gag gifts when you first started out, is now an endearing event filled with thoughtful gifts that you keep on your shelf for years to come.

last year, max had gotten your name. he is very thoughtful with his presents. his present sits at the top of your shelf: a paper mache trophy he admitted that he made with penelope (you’ve met her and she loves you) deeming you his toughest competitor in 2022.

you’re curious to see who drew your name this year.

“oh! do i get to keep this one?” you giggle as she hands you a santa hat. you pull it over your head snuggly and clap your hands. “where is it?”

“here.”

a box is handed to you, wrapped neatly in a mercedes green paper. you squeal as you take it into your hands and carefully unwrap it. there is something about wrapping paper that is so incredibly delicate and worth keeping.

you carefully tear at the tape holding the seams and edges of the box.

“any guesses who it could be right off the bat?”

“it could be anyone at this point,” you sigh, shaking your head. “could it be max again? hopefully it’s not charles — who knows what he will give me.” you look up to the camera. “in secret santa terms, of course. he is actually a good gift giver.”

you tear off the wrapping paper, folding it up neatly before pinning it between your body and elbow. “okay. truth time.”

you pull the cover off the box and tilt your head at the array of presents sitting comfortably in mercedes’ coloured confetti.

“what did you get?”

“a ‘best mum’ mug?” you say, coming out in a slight question as you lift up the pastel green mug to the camera. “am i pregnant and somehow it’s passed me?”

you hear a chorus of laughter as you venture further, each of the presents somehow getting weirder by the second. “and a christmas card? seriously?”

you graze your fingers over the 3d design on the card with a small smile, reading ‘merry christmas!’ with a cute doodle of a christmas tree in the centre. “we’ve been instructed to tell you to read that after you get all the presents and guess him correctly.”

your eyes trail to the gold plate in the shape of a star.

“another trophy!” you shriek. you squint your eyes to read the inscription on the plate. you sigh and press your lips together into a thin line. you hold it up. “best grid mum. the spelling alone gives it away!”

you step forward and let the camera zoom into it, the inscription reading “best grid mom”. “logan’s my secret santa?”

“ah, rookie mistake with the spelling there, wasn’t it?” she laughs. “there’s one more gift. he told us to give it to you when you figure it out.”

somebody else reaches out with a frame in their hands. you take it into your hands and smile, a picture of you and logan sitting right outside the mercedes home together for lunch sits tightly behind the glass.

“this is so sweet!” you coo, one hand covering your red cheeks. “do you want me to read the card?” she nods. you open the folded card and read as you speak. “thanks for welcoming me this year to the grid. you’re the best ever. hope i get to race with you longer than just this season. love, your secret santa.”

you look up as tears well in your eyes, looking into the camera. “aw, you’re the sweetest, logan. don’t worry, i’ve already got a present for him this christmas.”

you point to the lens of the camera. “can i grab this thing real quick for dramatic effect?” he nods. you grab the frame of the lens and take a step forward. “james vowles, if you do not re-sign logan hunter sargeant, i know where to find you.”

@cashtons-wife

[daisies-and-domming]

Boxing Day (SFW)

Thank you to @glassofapplejuicee for beta reading saving this work! Love you so much babes, don't know what I would do without you <3

Happy Merry Boxing Day, everyone! I’ve been a little quiet as of late (oops), but I figured a fluffy little set of headcanons about our favorite boys would get me writing again. Lo and behold, it totally worked - so Happy Holidays everyone, and enjoy!

Summary: You and your partner had a Merry Christmas, but now it’s time for you to move on to the new year! How long does it take for you to take down all of your Christmas decorations, and what challenges do you run into along the way? 

Warnings: light swearing, petnames (Gojo is a menace, Nanami calls you darling, Sukuna calls you brat, Toji calls you doll, Shoko calls you lovely), minor injuries in Toji’s

Features Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Fushiguro (Toji), Ieiri, Higuruma

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

– – –

Gojo Satoru

If anyone is over the top, it’s Gojo. Definitely takes Christmas decorations too far, and is not past putting vulgar things on the tree. Tried to decorate it with Polaroids of you in…compromising positions, much to your chagrin. You shut that one down pretty quickly.

One of those rich assholes who hires people to put up/take down the lights outside. Before you, he definitely had only the boring white lights and maybe one of those sad wire light-up reindeers (like this, for example). Just one of them, all alone - he thinks it’s symbolic and deep because he was all alone at the time but it really just makes his huge yard look extra empty.

With you, however, he wants to do it himself. He thinks there’s something magical about putting up decorations together, with people you love. 

(It’s sweet, really, until he sucks at it and cries because he has no actual idea how to do it - why is it so hard to hang the lights straight?? Or at all, for that matter?? You’ll probably end up having to do all the work)

Once Christmas comes and goes, he does NOT want to take stuff down. You put it up “together” (you put it up), he wants to leave it up forever! A memory of the Christmas you spent together. 

Plus, his big house feels a lot less empty with all the lights and garlands and various other decorations he spent too much money on. Please, let him leave it up?

You probably let him get away with leaving up the tree until the beginning of January. He, of course, bought a huge, very much real, tree. The needles are a mess, and when it reaches the point where there are barely any needles left on the tree, you put your foot down.

He’s whining the whole time you two are taking it down. He tries to sneak out and drag it back inside, but you catch him every time.

Don’t even get him started on taking down the lights…

– – –

“But baaaaaaaabe!!”

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Full government name? You wound me, baby! Just like you’re wounding our beautiful Christmas memories!”

You groan, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s whines. “Satoru, you’re the one who wanted a real tree. I told you it was too much responsibility and cleaning, but you-”

“Baby,” he said, eyes watery and lips pulled downward in a pout. “Why’re you so mean to me, huh? Just want to keep all of our Christmas memories safe, is all.”

You soften at this. Satoru didn’t really get a chance to celebrate Christmas often, before you. You know there’s no way in hell his family celebrated with him, and you’re sure that once he lost his best friend (on Christmas Eve, no less), he and Shoko didn’t truly celebrate again. This was the first real Christmas he’s had in a while.

“Toru,” you murmur, pulling him to you. “We have plenty of years in the future to make new Christmas memories, hm? We’ll get to put up Christmas decorations all over again.”

His eyes find yours, and you wonder briefly if the glow in his eyes is the lights he refuses to take down, or the jujutsu endlessly flowing through him.. There’s a hint of something melancholy hidden in them, mixed with something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He doesn’t say anything, just looks, almost studying you - you’d be freaked out if you didn’t know him so well. Know that your words and your kindness were unfamiliar to him. In a world where he’s expected to be the strongest, he doesn’t know what to do when someone expects him to just be himself. You want every piece of him, the good and the bad, the strong and the weak, and you try to convey that as much as you can with your eyes. 

You let him stare until the silence becomes too thick, too heavy with something inexplicably sad that leaves a lump in your throat and a weight on your chest. You pull your hand away from his, running a gentle thumb over his cheek. Your eyes can’t seem to leave his, as much as it hurts.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, with such finality that he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face. It’s still full of grief, but there’s a glimmer of hope in it, too. “You know that Toru. I’m here. I’ll always be here, okay? Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.” he says, devoid of his usual humor. “You promise me?”

“I promise, Toru.” you say. You barely get it out before he’s smashing his lips to yours. It’s messy, it’s frantic, and it’s full of all the words he can’t say. He knows it’s selfish of him. To want you, to love you. His life is full of danger and death around every corner, and he knows that by bringing you into his life he’s brought you into that, too. But he can’t help himself. Gojo Satoru gets what he wants, he always has, and there’s nothing he wants more than you.

So he holds you close, and hopes that you keep wanting him forever, too.

Geto Suguru

He’s been going all out for Christmas since he found Nanako and Mimiko. It was clear that the two had never really had a proper family, and he wanted to give them that as much as he could.

He went all out when they were little - fake reindeer hoofprints in the yard, piles of presents under the tree, half eaten cookies left on the plate labelled “for Santa”. The girls are his whole world, and he’d pluck the moon from the sky if they asked him to.

The girls love you, too, once you become part of their Christmas traditions (even though Suguru made you tell them that Santa’s not real because he couldn’t do it himself). You’ve helped give them a family that they never had, and they welcome you with open arms.

Nanako and Mimiko become menaces when you even mention that it’s about time you all take the Christmas decorations down. They love the way the house feels brighter with all the decorations up. Expect a bit of a fight (and no help from your boyfriend, who seemingly can’t tell his girls “no”).

– – –

“Absolutely not.” “You want to do what?!”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t your best idea to suggest taking down the tree, after all. You figured it’d be a good thing to do together - a touch of family time that you don’t always get with the girls - but they seemed to be appalled that you had even suggested such a thing.

“Nana, Mimi, it’s not Christmas anymore.” you say, laughing a bit nervously. “We can’t leave the tree up forever, can we?”

“We certainly can,” Nanako starts with a frown, “What’s stopping us? The pressure from society to conform to its trends?”

You barely manage to stop your eyes from rolling. You loved that Suguru was honest and open with the girls about what he does and who he is, but Nanako was definitely picking up some preconceived notions from hanging around Suguru’s literal cult all the time. Perhaps you’d have to talk to your boyfriend about it.

“Nana, sweetie, I love you-”

“Clearly you don’t if you won’t let me keep the tree up!” “What’s going on in here?”

A smooth, deep voice cuts through your conversation (argument?) with Nanako and Mimiko, and you feel a wave of relief crash over you. Surely, your lovely boyfriend would talk some sense into the girls (primarily Nanako).

“Suguru! The girls and I were just discussing taking the Christmas decorations down.”

Oblivious to Nanako’s scowl, he smiles softly at you. “What a good idea! We can do it as a family, hm? I could use a family day after the meetings I just had.”

“We’re not taking it down,” Mimiko mutters, eyes flickering between you and Suguru. “It’s too early.”

“Yeah, it’s way too early! We need to leave them up waaaaay longer. We did so much work to put them up, we can’t just take them down now!” Nanako whines out, doing her best puppy dog eyes at her father.

“You two,” you sigh, massaging your brow. “We can do it all again next year, but we seriously need to start taking these down, it’s getting a little late to still have our decorations up-”

“We can leave them up.”

Your head snaps to look at your boyfriend, mouth agape. “What?”

“I mean…” he says, looking anywhere but your face. “They seem really excited about it, you know? It can’t hurt to keep them up a bit longer…”

You should’ve known he would succumb to their puppy dog eyes, the bastard. “Suguru Geto, it’s the middle of January. We absolutely cannot keep them up much longer, the neighbors are starting to give me weird looks-”

“Who cares what the neighbors think?” he says, pulling you towards the couch. “C’mon, how about family movie night instead? We can take the tree down another day, hm?”

You know you shouldn’t let the girls win this one. You know it, and yet you let yourself get led to the couch anyways. Some 1980’s chick flick is put on, and you all settle in, curled into each other. You think you catch Meg Ryan out of the corner of your eye, but you’re more busy looking at your family, all together at this moment. 

The tree can stay up another day, you decide. You could handle a couple of judgy stares from the neighbors - because you wouldn’t trade moments like these for the world.

Nanami Kento

Nanami didn’t necessarily celebrate Christmas when he was on his own. It felt like a lot of work to put up a tree and decorate it if he was barely going to be home anyways.

After his return to jujutsu, Gojo tries endlessly to try and drag him to the yearly Christmas work party to no avail. Especially after you enter the picture. Gojo wants nothing more than to tell you embarrassing stories about your lover. 

But now he has you, and the little pink-haired menace that is Itadori Yuuji. You two had inserted yourselves into his life when he thought he needed solitude the most, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

Christmas, which had once come and gone, became something tangible. It meant endless hours of baking and decorating cookies, and time spent together, as a family. Yuuji wasn’t technically his son, but he was certainly a part of your little family (the gifts under the tree for him spoke for themselves). 

Like Gojo, he’s oddly hesitant to take down the decorations. The memories of putting them up and celebrating Christmas with the people he treasured around them are very dear to him.

Unlike Gojo, he can picture a future with you and Yuuji. Not quite on boxing day, but before December ends, the three of you are taking down decorations together, as a family, knowing that you’ll get the chance to put them up again next year.

– – –

Despite the date being not-quite-Christmas, you had insisted on playing Christmas music as you all took Christmas decorations down. Something about it being your “last chance to listen to Christmas music!” and you needing “one last dose” of Christmas before it was gone. And any level of time spent together with you and Nanami had Yuuji bouncing off the walls, so of course he was down for Christmas music after Christmas.

Despite his slight distaste for the music, Kento couldn’t help but smile at you and Yuuji. You’re rolling the lights neatly as Yuuji unwinds them, laughing and joking as you do. He remembers when you had asked Yuuji to come over to decorate for Christmas with the two of you. He had seen the boy excited before, but there was something special about the joy he radiated as he happily agreed to come over. You’d offered him the spare room many times, and even though he “can’t” stay, his clothes soon filled the drawers and his toiletries lived in your bathroom. While there’s not necessarily a “break” from the life of being a sorcerer, Fushiguro had gone home to Gojo’s, and Kugisaki had gone home to her family for the holidays. But, with nowhere to go, Yuuji had been planning to stay at the dorms, alone. Normally Nanami would’ve asked you first, but the second he heard he invited the boy to stay - lots of empty excuses about needing more company for Christmas and not wanting to eat all of the Christmas goods yourselves. But when Yuuji came bouncing in, you already knew, giving your husband a knowing smile. 

Now he was certain the house was going to feel empty, once Yuuji was gone. Ever respectful, he insisted he would be out of your hair the second the holidays were over.

“Ken, c’mere!” you call, beckoning him over. “Help Yuuji with the tree, won’t you?”

“I’ve totally got this, I’ll be fine!” Yuuji exclaims, trying to pick up the plastic tree without even taking it apart. “See?? Totally got it-”

Famous last words, of course, as he slips and thuds to the floor, the Christmas tree atop him. You and Kento both fly in, working to roll the tree off of him as quickly as possible. Of course, once he’s free, Yuuji is laughing, already re-telling the story of his “epic fall” (“it landed on me like whoosh! and I slammed against the carpet like kapow! Did you see that??”).

You sigh, glad he’s okay. “Could thank Nanami for helping you out from under it, you know.”

He flushes, stopping mid-story. “Oops, sorry! Thanks for the save, dad!”

He grins toothily before he catches his mistake, but by then, Nanami’s already tearing up. You are, too. Yuuji lost his family a long time ago. To feel safe enough, to call your husband dad? This was the best Christmas you’ve ever had, you’re certain.

And if you all end up crying? That’s nobody’s business but yours.

Sukuna Ryomen

He’s aware of the human tradition of “Christmas”, but if you think even for a second he considered celebrating it before you, you’re sorely mistaken. He’s the King of Curses, he doesn’t have time for nonsense like Christmas.

When you insert your annoying self into his life, he’s unsure on how to approach the holiday. His estate was not a place for “joy” or “being merry” (two very important things to Christmas, you had informed him), but with you here, perhaps it could be.

Very against decorations across the estate. In the privacy of certain spaces, he may allow it, but there will be no outdoor decorations or house-wide decorations. He does not want his servants to think he is getting soft for the human he’s been toting around. He will cede to some decorations, but he does not care about you and your silly human traditions.

(they already know he’s going soft for you. Any servant can see the way he looks at you, and how delicate his hands are with you. They’d be stupid not to know at this point the affection he holds for you)

He, at first, refuses to let you put up anything yourself in the approved rooms. He has servants, and he has made it very clear that they are yours to command. Why do you insist on doing it yourself?

You explain the importance of doing it yourself, even have the gall to ask him to do it with you, and he scoffs at this. He’s the King of Curses, he doesn’t have the time to 

Later, you will find him reading on Christmas traditions and decorations. When you catch him, he will refuse to acknowledge it, but the way he won’t quite make eye contact with you says all you need to know.

Once Christmas is over, decorations are down and boxed immediately. He instructs the servants the night before to take them down, and by the time you wake, the decorations are gone. 

With all of this Christmas decorating and celebrating, Sukuna has barely had a proper moment alone with you. Now that it’s over, expect him to be the closest to “clingy” that you will ever see him.

– – –

It’s early morning, December 26th, and Sukuna could not be more glad that this “Christmas” thing was over. You had become consumed by it, and despite finding some sort of amusement in the way you bounced around all excited and glowy, he was sick of it. You talked on and on about what he had to do with you, and while he indulged you on some of them, he was not fond of being bossed around. You had also mentioned another man, whom you referred to as “Santa” - you had assured Sukuna he wasn’t real, but Sukuna didn’t like the way another man’s name was so easily rolling off your tongue - who brought gifts to children in their homes. You had made an attempt to put up a little “Santa” figurine on the mantle, but found him in pieces (and in the trash) hours later. Sukuna would not allow another man you spoke so highly of to taint his space. 

You shift slightly, and he looks down at your sleeping face where it lay against him. You looked utterly ridiculous - your face was smushed against him, your hair was tousled, and you were lightly snoring - but for some reason Sukuna couldn’t tear his eyes from your form. He could hear the servants shuffling around in the other rooms on the estate, taking down the eyesores that you had put up all over the house. While he had instructed them to take everything Christmas-related down across the estate, they also had very specific instructions to never enter his chambers without explicit permission from him. This meant that his chambers were still a little Christmas bubble, the tree you had put up in the corner still standing tall.

When you first tried to get him to put a tree up in his chambers, he had refused. You could put a tree in the approved rooms, he had reminded you, and his chambers were very explicitly off limits. You had frowned, saying something about needing a “personal” tree that you could decorate yourself and keep presents “safe” under it. He informed you that anything you left under the other trees would also be safe, as this was his estate, and no one would touch anything without his permission, but you had just thrown your hands up.

“It’s about the principle, Ryo!”

“Brat, be grateful I’m letting you put up any trees at all. I could call off this whole ‘Christmas’ nonsense whenever I want, so watch your mouth.”

He sighed. He doesn’t know how you managed, but you had eventually wore him down. A sparkling tree sits in the corner of his chambers now, glowing softly. Once you had risen and started to go about your day he was going to take it down, he resolved. Whatever weird feelings were bubbling in his chest were the fault of this Christmas rampage you had gone on, and nothing else. Once his estate was cleaned of the Christmas blight you had cast upon it, his chest would return to normal, he was certain.

But for now, as the Christmas lights shining from the tree glowed behind your sleeping form, the feelings would remain. He felt himself melt into you, and ran a gentle hand through your hair. His eyes flick to the ceiling before drifting closed again. He sighs, and pulls you a little further into him. Softly, so softly that even the wind barely catches it, he murmurs to you.

“Merry Christmas, brat.”

Fushiguro Toji (ft. Tsumiki and Megumi)

You think this man has ever owned a house? Jokes on you honey, he’s never had that kind of money (or that good of credit).

Subsequently, there’s nowhere to decorate outside, really. Other than the apartment door, but that's too much work for Toji, so any Christmas decorations he might have are inside the walls of his apartment.

He’s boring, but surprisingly your biggest opp in Christmas decoration is little Megumi. Tsumiki is an angel as always and goes along with whatever Christmas shenanigans, but Megumi doesn’t want even a hint of Christmas in the house.

The most you get is a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, which was all Toji was willing to do before you, anyways. As much as he pretends he doesn’t, he’s always loved his kids, and keeps a plastic tree and a small box of ornaments (which is mostly comprised of the ones Tsumiki and Megumi has to make at school) shoved in the corner of his closet for this time of year. He may have been a shitty father, but he cared, in his own way.

When Megumi is little, that tree is down on December 26th, shoved back in the corner of Toji’s closet. Christmas is dumb, and so is anything that reminds him of it.

But now, with warmer memories surrounding it, the tree might take a couple more days to find itself back in the closet. It’s definitely down within the week (Megumi can only handle being sappy for so long), but maybe Christmas isn’t so bad with you around.

And (even though he won’t say it), Toji feels the same way - you see it in the mistletoe that now hangs in the entryway between the kitchen and living room, in the way his eyes find yours as you all decorate gingerbread houses together, in the way he’s just a little sweeter when Christmas comes around. You’re the best present he’s ever gotten, and the only one he needs, this Christmas and every Christmas in the future.

The actual act of taking stuff down, though? With four (mostly) grown bodies shoving around in a tiny apartment, it’s a lot more hectic than you’d like it to be. Someone always ends up minorly hurt every year in the clean-up process. It’s inevitable, and you’re considering making a Christmas scrapbook of all the injuries you all have gotten over the years.

(your personal favorite will always be when Toji yanked on the lights impatiently and the whole tree came down on him. You can still see Tsumiki’s wide eyes and hear little toddler Megumi’s laughter as Toji grumbled about “stupid tree” this and “damn lights” that. He was fine, but his ego was not)

– – –

“Shit-”

You spin around at the gruff swear from your husband, about to scold him for swearing in front of the kids, when you’re met with a facefull of Toji. His chest slams into your face, and you both go down. He barely manages to catch himself over you (if he hadn’t, you’re certain you would’ve been flattened under his weight). Your head smacks into the carpet and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut to battle the throbbing pain in your head.

“Dad, what the hell-”

“Are you two okay??”

Two overlapping voices come from above you, but you don’t think you can open your eyes. You haphazardly throw up a thumbs up, just to blindly whack your husband in the face.

“Ow, doll, Jesus Christ. Watch your hand, won’t you?” Toji gruffs out, but one of his hands is already moving to cradle your head, gently touching around it. He doesn’t feel any blood, and he lets out a sigh of relief. He didn’t really feel like making a trip to the emergency room a couple days after Christmas, especially for something this embarrassing. He’s sure they’ve had enough Christmas-related injuries from the idiots who go out and party, anyways. 

“Get off of them, you oaf.” Megumi says, shoving his father off of you. Toji rolls off of you, letting Megumi shove him aside. That kid always liked you more than him, even if you weren’t related by blood. 

He lets the kids fuss over you and goes into the kitchen to grab you an ice pack for your head. At worst it’s a concussion, but he’s hoping it’ll just be a bump. Not his fault that Tsumiki got distracted midway through taking the lights of the tree and left them hanging haphazardly. And yeah, maybe it was his fault that he wasn’t looking where he was going and got his feet tangled in the lights. But Megumi was complaining about them still having all of the ornaments he made as a kid, and Toji had to make sure that brat wasn’t throwing any of them away. So yeah, maybe his eyes weren’t on the floor. But in his defense, the lights were only supposed to be in two places - the box, or on the tree.

Grumbling, he makes his way back to the living room, where you’re now situated on the couch. Christmas teardown long forgotten, Tsumiki is asking you questions and holding fingers in front of your face. Megumi is standing broodily to the side. His arms crossed, as if he doesn’t care, but his eyes are watching you with rapt attention. 

“For your head, doll.” Toji says, passing you the ice pack. You accept it gratefully, cradling it to where your head smacked into the floor. Your bleary eyes meet his, and you can see the glow of worry hiding behind them. You offer him a weak smile, hoping it’ll ease at least some of his worries.

“I knew I was gorgeous, but you didn’t have to literally fall for me, you know,” you joke, eyes sparkling. There’s a distinct “Ew!” from Megumi as Toji leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, rolling his eyes at your nonsense. 

“Merry Christmas, doll.”

“Merry Christmas, Toji.”

And if the half-taken down tree stays up for a day or so more, Megumi doesn’t say a word.

Ieiri Shoko

Shoko has no intention of owning a house, ever. Her apartment has always been more than enough space for her, and being the only sorcerer with her abilities, she works crazy hours, anyways. She wouldn’t have the time to take care of a whole house.

Even with you in her life, she’s still home at odd hours. She tries harder now, to be home more often, but there’s only so much that’s in her control. You’ve woken up many nights to her crawling out of bed and throwing on her coat to get to Jujutsu Tech.

It sucks and she knows it, but both of you know it’s always going to be her reality unless she leaves jujutsu. And both of you know that, at this point, she isn’t going anywhere.

Your Christmas decorations are very sparing. A wreath on the outside of your door, a small tree in the corner of the living room, and perhaps a wintry candle burning. Your apartment isn’t really well-lived in, but you two try to make it as cozy as possible.

Christmas decorations could stay up year round, honestly. She barely cares to put them up, taking them down is way more work than she wants to go through. The wreath is notoriously on the door until mid-February. It’s a miracle if it’s gone by Valentine’s Day.

Things get taken down, piece by piece, until all of it is gone. Unlike most people, it’s not a day that you two do it, but over the course of the rest of December and January. 

(The door wreath always gets forgotten because by the time post-Christmas rolls around you’re both used to it and forget it’s even there)

By the first of the new year, the lights and ornaments are off the tree, and all of the Christmas cookies (that you stole from Gojo’s stash) are eaten. At some point, the tree goes down. Eventually, the candle’s been burnt to the end of the wick, and it’s replaced with something more flowery. Any sign of Christmas and the holidays slowly fades away.

Until one of you remembers the wreath, of course!

– – –

A gentle buzzing shakes Shoko from her lunch. She’s rarely aware of what time of day it is in the hellscape that is the basement of Jujutsu Tech; but Gojo, in a rare moment of kindness, had visited her with lunch in his hands. He was blabbering on and on about something nonsensical, as always, but she was grateful for the break. As much as he acted like an idiot, Gojo was anything but - he knew the conversation he was holding was one-sided. He’d act all offended later, she was sure (what a headache), but her little noncommittal “yeah”s and “mhm”s would do for now. 

“Ooooh, who’s calling you?” Gojo asks, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes, looking down at the caller ID. Your name lights up the screen, a goofy picture of you flashing behind it. You had thrown the Christmas lights for the tree in the air over your head in excitement, and had ended up all tangled up in them. Despite being somewhat wrapped  up in Christmas lights, you had a big smile on your face, laughing at your own predicament. It’s perhaps one of her favorite pictures of you.

Before she can answer it herself, Gojo snatches her phone from her hand, and answers it himself. “Helloooo, Ms. Shoko Ieiri speaking. How may I be of doctor-ly assistance to you?”

She can hear you snort on the other end of the phone, clearly amused. 

“Hi, Gojo. How’re you?”

He gasps dramatically. “Gojo?? How dare you confuse me with that no good idiot-”

“Gojo,” Shoko starts, extending her hand, “give me my phone back.”

He sticks out his tongue, handing her the phone. “Boo, you two are no fun!”

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Hey, lovely.”

“Hey, Sho!”

“What’s up, hm? Need something?”

“Oh, nothing urgent,” you say with a laugh. “Just found something I thought you might find funny.”

“Yeah?” she says, smiling. “And what’s that?”

“Do you know what the date is?” you ask, and she hears a bit of shuffling on the other end of the phone. You’re clearly on the move as you call her.

“Uhm…” her eyes drift to the childish cat calendar Gojo had hung in her office. He had insisted it would “boost morale”, but mostly it had been an eyesore. “February something-th, I’m sure.”

“Yeah!” you exclaim. “It’s February, Sho.”

“I know that,” she says, though there was no real bite in her tone. “I literally just said that.”

“Oh shut up,” you say, a bit muffled on the other end of the phone. “I’m just saying it’s February. Getting awful close to being March, even.”

“February’s short, lovely, that’s not much of a feat.”

“Shhh, let me talk!! Anyways, you know what I found?”

She racks her brain, but there’s nothing that you would find in the house that would make you react like this that she could think of. “No idea, lovely. Would you like to tell me?”

“The wreath, Sho!”

“The wreath…?” she says, before recognition sweeps across her face. “Oh my god-”

“We left the wreath up!” you’re laughing so hard she’s sure you’re crying. “I- how do we forget every year-”

“We got it down by January last year!”

“Mid-January, Sho, not by January-”

“Maybe we should stop putting it up.”

“Noooo! I love having this conversation every year. Don’t you?”

She’s laughing too, even if she doesn’t want to. “Mhm, of course, lovely.”

“Anyways, you’re probably busy, so I’ll leave you be, but Merry Christmas, Sho!”

She laughs, rolling her eyes at your antics. “Merry Christmas, lovely.”

Higuruma Hiromi

Another busy fellow. Being a lawyer and a sorcerer does that to a man.

But it also means he can afford a nice house in a nice area. You’ve got decent land, and a nice big house to decorate for Christmas.

He’s a total sap, and definitely makes time to decorate the house with you. Your tree will look more like a scrapbook than a Christmas tree - covered in picture frame ornaments of the two of you and dinky little ornaments he saw that he was out that reminded him of you.

Expect Christmas/winter dates with him, too - he may be busy, but he’s bending his schedule as much as possible to take you ice skating or to decorate gingerbread houses with you.

When December 26th rolls around, he’s in the office. He overloads himself in November to clear as much of December as he can, but it’s inevitable that he ends back in the office before the month ends. He’s just glad he got to spend Christmas with you.

The decorations stay up perhaps a little too long, but you’d both rather take things down together. You don’t always get the chance to be domestic with Hiromi, so you wait. The rare moments that you do are always worth the wait.

– – –

You can hear Hiromi across the room faintly humming some Christmas tune as you gently lift the garland from the mantle. After some sort of miracle (and a little bit of string pulling), Hiromi had finally managed to land himself a day off post-Christmas. Things always get busy after Christmas - drunk idiots making post-party mistakes, kids misusing their new toys, marriages that barely manage to scrape through Christmas day at all - and he’s been on back to back cases for a couple weeks now. His eyebags have been cutting deeper into his face by the day, and you’re glad to see something like joy in his step as he weaves the lights off the Christmas tree. Once the sun reaches its peak in the sky, the two of you would bundle up and head outside to get the lights and the wreath, but for now, you could enjoy the warmth of the house for a little longer. 

You drop the bundle of garland into one of the many boxes. You knew in your heart that the you of next year would look at the messy pile of garland and be incredibly pissed, but you didn’t have it in yourself to care right now. Sounded like a problem for next year you, not a problem for the you of the present. You had other decorations to take down, and boyfriends to mess with.

You take a peek at said boyfriend as you move the other Christmas knick knacks off the mantle and into the box. He’s still humming something or other, but it’s definitely a new song. He’s dancing to it, a bit, as he gently places your ornaments back in the box. He pauses, sometimes, to look more intently at the little picture frames. A picture of the two of you, at the beach a couple of summers ago. A snapshot of your trip to Paris. A polaroid of you laughing, covered in flour, that barely fits in the frame he bought for it. That one was from this year - he had insisted that you two make Christmas sugar cookies and decorate them, but when you had pulled the flour from the top shelf, it had exploded right out the bottom. It’s what you get for buying the cheap flour, perhaps, but you remember how you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from your throat in the moment. You don’t even remember Hiromi grabbing the camera - just the snap it made as it framed your mishap forever. You shake yourself out of your stupor and look around. You’ve cleared the mantle and the side table, all that’s left in this room minus the tree was…the mistletoe. It hung neatly between the living room and the kitchen, a little glint of green and red against the horrendous light yellow of the kitchen (the old owners had been so pleased with the color that you couldn’t bring yourself to repaint it). You went to grab it down, but even with a stretch to your tippy toes, you couldn’t quite get a grasp on it. 

“Hiromi,” you call out, and he makes a noncommittal sound. “Romi, honey.”

He flicks his head over to you, huffing softly at your pout. “What is it, honey?”

You point up at the offending party, its green and red staring back at you mockingly. “Can’t get the little bastard down. Any chance you’d be willing to help me out?”

“Of course, honey,” he says, striding over to you. You expect him to pluck it off its hook himself, and squeal when his arms wrap around your waist and he lifts. You know he’s strong - hell, you’d have to be strong to do his job - but he lifted you with an ease you didn’t know was possible.

“Are you going to get that down, or do I have to hold you here forever?” he says, a teasing grin making its way to his face.

You jokingly contemplate, putting your finger to your lips to ‘think’ about it. “Hmm, I don’t know, feeling pretty comfy in your arms. Might just have to stay here forever, I fear.”

He snorts, gently bringing you back down. He reaches up and unhooks the mistletoe himself, though he hesitates to bring his arm back down.

“What is it?” you ask gently.

“One last kiss? For Christmas’ sake?”

You laugh breathlessly, knowing damn well that it’s late enough into January that this kiss isn’t for anything but him. But, as he dangles the mistletoe above your heads, you can’t help but lean in to kiss him. And if you two don’t stop, even when the mistletoe is long forgotten? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Life Did Not Treat Us Well 🌙 | Harry Potter Imagine

set during the events of HP 3 & 7

HP Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: all platonic—Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Minerva McGonnagal, Albus Dumbledore

Content Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, implied character death, cannon divergence | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Premise:

When the dust clears at Hogwarts, Harry searchers for the one person who can relate to him, now that all close to his parents were dead. She was the last remanence of the family he could have had, if life had treated them well. Now they were two lost souls, carrying the weight of reality on their shoulders. But while Harry would one day greet death as an old friend, she was bound to the Earth forever.

-----------

Harry found his Godmother in the Astronomy Tower. Or what was left of it really. Seated on the edge with feet hanging off, the cool breeze blowing through her hair. As he got closer, he saw the blank look in her eye, staring out to the distance at the river and trees. Smoke from the fires sizzling out until disappearing forever. 

He announced himself as he approached, although Harry knew she was aware of his presence. “Thought I might find you here.” Coming beside her, Harry crouched and swung his legs off the ledge to sit next to her. 

“This used to be my favorite spot in the castle,” She replied without looking at him, but Harry heard the small smile in her voice. The tone one has when recalling happy memories. “I loved coming up here after hours to admire the stars. It was the one place I found solace in, and what I missed most after….” 

Harry understood what she referred to, tilting his head down. The question left his lips without thinking, “Did you ever hate them? Dumbledore, Sirius….Remus. At any point?” He glanced up with curious eyes, “For what happened that night.” The boy received a sigh, emanating the exhaustion she felt after the long, devastating battle. It was laced with grief and sorrow. Making Harry regret asking. He went to apologize but she cut him off. 

“To say I didn’t want to would be a lie,” the confession hung in the air, a tightening in her chest despite the weightlifting off her shoulders. “Especially in the beginning, Harry. It’s why many years passed before I returned home. I was enraged.” Turning to him, she pressed her lips together, “I feared what I’d do, and it didn’t help that my emotions were not only all over the place, but heightened and made me uncontrollable.” 

A shiver migrated down her spine, the memory of her early years after the transformation resurfacing. Along with the fear, guilt, and despair. Sniffing, she panned back to the river, “But you must know, I do not-- did not, ” she corrected with a crack, “hate Remus. Nor did I harbor any blame for what he did. He wasn’t in his right mind, as you’ve witnessed when there’s a full moon.”

Harry shuddered, thinking back to his third year. The night of many revelations. Sirius’ innocence, Peter’s betrayal, Remus’s lycanthropy…and Y/n’s vampirism. 

“But Sirius and Dumbledore…..”

He heard her sharp intake of breath, her voice growing lower, “It pains me to admit it, Harry, but…..I wanted to kill them. ” Of course that feeling disappeared a long time ago. After a long journey of reflection, acceptance, and resilience. Y/n forgiving Sirius for his actions that led to her nearly dying at the hands of Remus when she saved Snape from falling into Sirius’ trap. Their reunion in 1993 was a bittersweet moment. Filled with apologies and hope for the future. 

As for Dumbledore, part of her--especially now after everything that’s happened, after everything she’s lost, deep down Y/n wishes he had let her succumb to the injuries. 

“What do we do, Albus!” Madam Pomprey shouted, on the verge of hyperventilating as she attempted to aid the girl in front of her. Blood poured from multiple parts of her body as she laid on the bed. Withering, shivering, turning paler by the second. 

James and Sirius stood frozen in the corner, covered in Y/n’s blood from hauling her to the infirmary, watching the scene unfold with horror. Snape, laying in his own bed, mirrored their expressions as Professor McGonnagal tried to block his view. The older woman had a hand covering her mouth, “God be with us.”

Y/n groaned, face becoming drowsy as her body desired sleep. Madam Pomprey’s dress painted deep red, pleading to the headmaster with her eyes. “This is beyond my reach, headmaster. We must take her to St. Mungos.”

Albus refused, “She’s in no condition to apparate, nor travel by Floo. She’ll die before we’d set foot inside.” He thought deeply, glancing between the girl and his colleagues with an unreadable expression. Then, as though fighting the thoughts in his head, Albus sighed in defeat. “There’s only one way to save the girl.” As he reached into his pocket, retrieving the vial he’d grabbed on his way out of his office in case of the worst possible outcome, Albus motioned for Filch. “Send an owl to the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Tell them they must send a representative to Hogwarts before the sun rises--it is a matter of the highest urgency.” 

With a nod, Filch makes haste out of the infirmary towards the owlery. Leaving the remaining members of the group confused and worried. Minerva approaches the man, “The Department of Magical Creatures? What in Heaven's name are you thinking, Dumbledore? Remus didn’t bite Y/n--.” She then notices the vial in his hand, face dropping, “What is that?”

Albus briefly glances at the boys before focusing back on Y/n. Preparing himself for the negative reaction he was sure to receive. “ Vampire venom .” Air catches in all their throats, Sirius looking like he wants to throw up. The women gasp, Minerva absolutely appalled. 

“Are you suggesting turning the girl into a vampire?!” her voice carries with an unfamiliar tone no one had ever seen from the professor. It was like she didn’t recognize the man in front of her. In disbelief he even possessed the venom when only three known vampires were alive and located away from England. 

“It’s the only way to save the girl, Minerva.”

“That is illegal!” She shouted, making even Pompfrey flinch. James and Sirius felt their stomachs drop, hearts pounding against their chest. Seeing their head of House look genuinely frightened on top of their best friend dying ignited a fury of anxiety. Minerva stepped closer to Albus, voice stern, “If the Ministry doesn’t see fit to kill her they will surely send her away. They will remove her from Hogwarts--and her family! To be alone for all eternity,” Minerva’s heart already broke for the girl. Her favorite student and protegee. “If you do this you are sentencing her to a fate worse than death, Albus.” 

He was quiet for a moment, as if debating what to do. But then brushed past the woman to move beside Y/n, uncorking the vial. “Likely so. But it is a risk worth taking.”

Minerva had to turn away, squeezing her eyes shut to not watch the man do the unthinkable. Meanwhile James steps forward, sweat still beading his forehead and yells, “You can’t do that, headmaster!” Albus’ hand pauses in the air before it could pour the liquid in Y/n’s mouth. Glancing up to find James’s horrified face. The young Potter had read a bit on vampires along with the stories his father told him. 

The most notable details being vampires were hunted all over the globe to the point only three were known to be alive. Living off the grid and nomadic. And that not every human bit survives the transformation. More often they die before the venom reaches the heart depending on their state. 

Knowing this, James feared for his friend. “What if she doesn’t survive the change?” Albus simply looked at him and replied, “And what if she does?” James said nothing, gulping as he took his place back beside Sirius. 

They watched intently as the headmaster leaned over Y/n, gently parting her lips to open her mouth. “I am truly sorry about this, my dear.” Pausing, he glanced up to Pompfrey, “Clear the room. Anyone with open wounds and covered in blood will be her target.” With urgency, Pompfrey had the boys help her lift Snape out of the infirmary. Leaving only Minerva and Albus with Y/n, who was moments away from death.

“Are you sure about this, Albus?” Minerva asked one last time. Her eyes glossed over, saying a mental prayer for Y/n and for herself in the case the transformation works and Y/n attacks them in a bloodlust. 

Though sure of himself, Albus felt his heart skip a beat the moment he let the venom fall into Y/n’s mouth, “Regardless if I am sure…there’s no turning back now.”

“I hated them,” she voiced with emotion, picturing the moment she awoke to a new reality, Harry noticing the way her eyes glossed over. “Dumbledore especially. Sirius I forgave because at the end of the day he was just being a stupid kid who didn’t think his actions had consequences. But Dumbledore…I never looked at him the same again. After all, he was the one who made the choice. Yes, he saved my life, and you’d think I’d be grateful,” she shook her head, turning back to Harry with sorrow filled eyes, “but how can I, when he sentenced me to walk the Earth for all eternity. Stuck with the same face I had at eighteen. Never to grow old while those around me live their lives until death comes to greet them.”

And now she was the last Marauder. All of her friends were dead, leaving her alone in the world. 

Harry’s heart broke for his Godmother. With his parents, Sirius, Remus--and even Snape--gone, Y/n was the last person close to his parents living. The only family he had left--save for his muggle aunt and uncle who really could care less about whether he lived or died in the war. 

It was just him and Y/n. The Boy Who Lived and the Lone Vampire.

Harry thought back to the first day of his third year. The day he and his friends met Lupin. Enjoying their dinner with their house in the Great Hall and how curious everyone became at the mention of another guest roaming the halls.

The Frog choir had just finished their song, the room erupting into applause as Dumbledore took to his podium. 

“Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts!” He announced with raised arms, “Now I’d like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I’m pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who’d kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” He motions to the man, who stands from his chair to smile and wave to the crowd. “Good luck, professor.”

Beside Lupin, Snape offers three simple claps while remaining stoic, while the other teachers beam at the newest edition to their faculty. 

Dumbledore continues, “Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years has decided to retire, in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I’m delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid.” As the half-giant stands, shaking the table as he does, the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers. Some whistling and shouting with glee. 

“Finally,” The headmaster quiets the crowd, “on a more describing note. At the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will until further notice play host to the Dementors of Azkaban until such a time Sirius Black is captured.” Murmurs echo against the walls, students whispering in hushed voices. Faces painted with concern. Most notably Harry, who turns to his friends, also visibly worried. 

“The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now, whilst I’ve been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities…,” he pauses slightly, eyes catching a figure walking past the entrance of the Great Hall. Dressed head-to-toe in black leather, heels barely clicking against the pavement with how light her footsteps were. Behind Dumbledore, the demeanor of the entire faculty shifted. Lupin and Snape tensing, while Minerva visibly paled. 

The students, particularly the Golden Trio, took the change in behavior in regard to the Dementors & Sirius Black. Who could blame them really. Sirius Black was the talk of the town. Then there was the incident on the train with the Dementors. None were aware of the mysterious woman disappearing from sight as she passed the entrance to continue her journey throughout the castle.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, “A word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving,” he pauses once more, lifting a finger, “but you know, happiness to be found even in the darkest of times.” His hand waves over a candle, distinguishing the flame, “One only remembers to turn on the light.” waving his hand again, the flame returns. 

“With that being said, we’ve taken the necessary precaution to further ensure your safety in the castle.” Albus glances over his shoulder and meets Minerva’s eyes, then quickly does the same to Remus and Severus before returning his attention to the crowds. All three appear nervous. Deep down, Albus feels the same, but puts on a fake smile. “We are pleased to welcome another guest to Hogwarts.” 

This piques the interest of everyone, and Harry straightens in his seat to look around the faculty for an unfamiliar face. However he falls up short, narrowing his brows in confusion. 

“A fellow alum, who’s recently returned to England after many years abroad. Miss. Y/n L/n…” murmurs once again fill the room, mostly laced with wonder when they notice Dumbledore had not motioned toward a woman to provide face to a name, like he did Lupin. Harry frowns, looking at Hermione who just shrugs in response. “Has graciously accepted the position of taking over nightly surveillance from Mr. Filch. She’ll be roaming the halls after curfew and is expected to report any and all suspicious activity. Including any students out of bed. Therefore, I advise you all to not leave your dormitories after hours,” Dumbledore’s voice suddenly turns serious, “unless you wish to receive the proper punishment.”

Off to the side Harry overheard the twins, Fred and George, mumble something along the lines of, “That’s rubbish. How are we supposed to see if she’s fit if she’s only in the castle at night?” A statement which had all the girls in proximity roll their eyes and glare. 

Ron leaned over to Harry, whispering loud enough for Hermione to hear, “that must suck. Imagine being the only one awake the entire night while everyone else is asleep. Quite a boring job if you ask me.” 

Dumbledore ended the announcement, expression slightly troubled, “Miss. L/n will not be joining us for day-to-day activities, her duty is required at night. 

While Ron and Hermoine fell into conversation as the feast began, Harry’s attention was rather occupied. Noticing something strange those around him failed to see. 

The guilty faces of his teachers. Including Dumbledore and Snape. 

It would be a few months into the term that Harry would first meet Y/n. Dumbledore wasn’t joking about her reporting all activity after hours. Several students had breached curfew. Some go to House parties, others to get a glimpse of Hogwarts mysterious security guard. Each was met with detention that week, and all were shocked having never spotted the woman lurking about the castle. 

It was as if she were a ghost. But even the ghosts of Hogwarts were lively. 

She was all but a mystery. 

It was a bad idea. He knew better than to sneak out of the dorms after hours. But seeing the name Peter Pettigrew, a man known to be dead on the Marauder’s map, Harry had to investigate. So, with his wand leading the light in front of him, he made his way into the halls toward ‘Pettigrew’s’ location. 

“Put that light out!”

“Sorry,” he apologized to the portrait, bringing the light in front of the map. There it showed Peter moving towards him. Harry paused, staying in his position while flicking his wand outward, but caught nothing in the darkness. 

His heart pumped faster, breathing heavily as he felt the anxiety rise. What was he supposed to do? Peter Pettigrew was supposed to be dead. What would it mean if he was alive? What did it mean for Sirius Black?

The footsteps on the map closed in on Harry, until they were right in front of him. Then Harry turned, lifting his gaze expecting to see the culprit but scared himself as he met his own reflection in a mirror. Confused, Harry looked back at the map to find Peter’s name scurrying away, turning the corner moving away from Harry. 

Then another name appeared.

Severus Snape approached the intersection of the opposite corridor, Harry mentally cursing as he waved his wand over the map, “Mischief managed. Nox,” the light went off, plunging him into darkness. 

Unfortunately he was a second too late. Severus non-verbally casts ‘Lumos’ and flashes the light in his face. “Potter,” he snarled. “What are you doing wandering the corridors at night?”

“I was sleepwalking,” was the first thing that popped into Harry's mind. A horrible excuse he was sure Snape wouldn’t believe but tried anyway. 

“Extraordinary like your father you are, Potter,” Snape muttered, tone laced with displeasure. “He, too, was exceedingly arrogant. Strutting about the castle.”

“My dad didn’t strut,” Harry sassed, “and nor do I.” Matching Snape’s hard stare, Harry never lost eye contact, “Now if you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you lowered your wand.”

Almost like he was impressed with Harry’s attitude, Snape made a face, pointing his hand downward so his wand was directed at the floor. “Turn out your pockets.” When Harry didn’t move, Snape repeated the order sternly, “Turn out. Your pockets.”

Sighing through his nose, Harry removed the map from his hoodie, but did not offer it to Snape. 

“What’s this?”

“A bare bit of parchment.”

“Really,” Snape didn’t believe him. “Open it.” A second paused before Harry complied. Then Snape placed his wand directly over the parchment. “Reveal your secrets.” They watched as lettering appeared, revealing the names Harry already became familiar with but instead of a map, there was a message. “Read it.”

“Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs,” Harry began, briefly flicking his eyes up , “and Missus. Hops, offer their compliments to Professor Snape and--.” Harry cut himself off, unsure to continue as his eyes scanned over the next sentence. 

“Go on,” Snape drawled, and Harry lifted his head to look at him. 

“And request that he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.”

Snape saw red, “Why you insolent little--.”

“Professor,” Remus announced himself, Snape turning so fast Harry thought he ought to have whiplash. Black hair pretty much covers his eyes.

“Well, well. Lupin . Out for a little walk….in the moonlight. Are we?” 

Remus ignored Snape, offering only a smirk as he approached the two. “Harry. You alright?”

“That remains to be seen.” Snape, again, turned hastily and snatched the parchment out of Harry’s hands. Leaving the boy stunned. “I have just confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter. Take a look, Lupin,” he extends his hand, allowing Remus to take it. “It’s supposed to be your area of expertise. Clearly, it is full of dark magic.”

Remus rolls his eyes at the accusation. “I seriously doubt it, Severus. It looks to me as though it’s merely a parchment designed to insult anyone who tries to read it.” His chuckle echoes. “I suspect it’s a Zonko product. Nevertheless,” he moves his hands away when Snape attempts to retrieve the parchment. “I should investigate any hidden qualities it may possess. “‘Tis after all, as you say, my area of expertise.” 

As Remus goes to have Harry follow him out, they are interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, causing all three of them to freeze. Severus points his wand out, light emitting into the darkness. They follow the light as he points it in the opposite direction, where they see nothing. Then, as they turn back to the original direction they were facing, the three men stagger back when they’re greeted with the sight of a woman standing directly in front of them.

She was dressed in all black. Beneath her long trench coat, she wore a turtleneck, gloves, and heeled boots. Striking facial features. So youthful; skin clear and smooth like fine China, a jawline and cheekbones that could cut through wood and eyes void of color. They were a bright gray, nearly white. And the moment she spoke Harry noticed how white her teeth were. Reflecting against the light from Snape’s wand. 

“Gentlemen.” Her voice was feathery. Almost a whisper with a slight echo. Unlike anything Harry ever heard. She sounded far away despite being so close. 

Harry saw the way the men reacted to the arrival of their guest. Relaxed, but somewhat uneasy. Remus’s head slightly tipped down, “ Y/n.” Harry’s face contorted to shock, despite assuming the moment he saw the woman that it was Y/n. But what made the boy think otherwise was how young she appeared. As though she were a student and not faculty. Physically looking like she belonged with the seventh years. “Apologies for disturbing you this evening.”

Y/n’s expression was stoic, “Your apology should be directed to those hanging on the wall trying to sleep. Something you all should be doing as well.” Eyes flickered over to Snape, then to Harry, causing the boy to tense under her gaze. It lingered on him for a moment before returning to Remus, “It is not safe to be out at this hour.”

“Agreed,” Snape drawled, glaring at Lupin slightly. “We were all just leaving. Isn’t that right, Lupin?”

“Yes,” the DADA professor cleared his throat. “That’s right. I was actually going to request Harry’s company back to my office to answer a few questions regarding this item he came into possession of,” he waved the map in his hands. Casting a knowing look to Y/n, who merely raised a brow at the parchment. Then her lips curled up while lifting her hand. 

“Might I?”

At first he was hesitant, but then Remus slowly lowered the parchment into her palm, her delicate fingers taking grasp before analyzing the piece up close. “Well, well,” she hummed, a glint in her eyes. “What a peculiar thing. With a sense of humor.” She ignored the annoyed reaction from Snape, making Harry hold back a snicker. 

“Yes,” Remus murmurs with a small smile, but it’s filled with emotion as he looks down at her. When she met his eyes, the man straightened, clearing his throat. “Again, our apologies for the disturbance.” 

Y/n hands the map back, nodding sharply, “Quite alright. At least it was you all responsible for the noise.” She smirks, “I’d hate to report the Weasley twins again for the third time this week.” Remus chuckles and Harry smiles while Snape just rolls his eyes. 

“Been having your hands full, I take it?” 

A scoff escapes her, “Like you wouldn’t believe. These students are more rebellious than I imagined. Though I have to give it to them. They’ve become rather creative in their ways of sneaking out after curfew.”

Remus tilts his head, “More so than how we were,” he whispers so Harry doesn’t catch it, but knowing she would. Her nod confirms so, and Remus shakes his head with a chuckle. “Well I can only assume Filch is pleased to have the nights off now.”

“Oh, he makes it well known when we trade off at dusk.” They share another laugh, but she cuts it off when she spots Harry watching them with curious eyes. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to it then.” Her eyes traveled to Harry, making his breath catch as they lingered on him. Pinning him to his spot as he caught the way they softened. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Harry Potter.” 

The boy stuttered out a response, “It--it’s nice to meet you too, Miss. L/n.” 

“Please, call me Y/n.” She approaches him, stopping short and before anyone could react, she was lifting a gloved hand to his face. Gently brushing a finger over his cheek, causing Harry’s heart to skip a beat. Even with gloves on, her touch was chilling. 

Behind her Harry saw the professors stiffen, meekly sharing a glance. Then Y/n’s voice echoed once more against the silent, almost a kiss of a whisper. “My, don’t you look like your father.” Harry swallowed, processing her words which were nothing but a shock to him that the woman knew his father. Then again as she, with a pained tone, added, “But those eyes… those eyes are all Lily .”

Harry wanted to know more about Y/n after that night. About her relationship with his parents. How she knew Lupin. And Snape when she appeared no older than Percy Weasley. Why was she confined to patrol the halls of Hogwarts at night and could not join them during the day. He tried asking Lupin questions when they got to his office but the man was reluctant to answer. 

Harry had told Hermione and Ron of his interaction with the woman the next day. Igniting surprise in friends as well as curiosity. Hermione particularly found Y/n’s predicament quite questionable. And all the more suspicious when Harry mentioned her youthful appearance. 

“I’m telling you she knew my parents,” He said, placing the goblet on the table. Glancing up he was met with her penetrating stare, brows furrowed.

“That’s impossible, Harry,” she leaned over after checking to see if anyone was listening. “If what you’re saying is true, she’d have to be the same age as Lupin--in her thirties. The only other thing I can think of is she was a child whose parents were friends with yours. Are you sure it wasn’t just your eyes playing tricks on you?”

He shook his head, crossing his arms over the table as he thought back to the night’s events. “No. The way she and Lupin interacted…it was friendly, but tense at the same time. Same with Snape--like they were old acquaintances.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Whatever, you’re probably right. She must’ve graduated the year before we came here--that would make sense why Snape knew her too.” 

Hermione felt like something was still off, “but…you said she didn’t look older than Percy.”

“So?” Ron cuts in.

“So,” Hermione repeats with an edge to her voice, “It doesn’t make sense for her to be the same age as Percy, but graduated three years ago and knew Harry’s parents the way he’s implying she did.”

“Then she might be twenty or something,” Ron swallows a mouthful of food. At their expressions he lifts his hands with a shrug, “Look all I’m saying is some people age differently. There’ve been times where I can’t tell if someone is eighteen or twenty-five.” 

Hermione slumped in her seat, no longer feeling the energy to argue. Ron did have a point, but her intuition was screaming at her there was more to the story. She’d have to do some digging.

The Golden trio discovered many revelations the night Sirius Black came to Hogwarts. After Sirius dragged Ron into the Shrieking Shack, where Hermione and Harry followed them too, they were stunned to their core upon the arrival of Remus and Y/n. Hermione nauseated at being in the same room as Y/n once more. Having met her the night after Harry when she snuck out of the dorms to the library. It led her to investigate the years Harry’s parents were at Hogwarts, at the same time Snape assigned an essay on werewolves . Resulting in Hermione to uncover two shocking discoveries. 

And seeing the two with Sirius brought an overwhelming fear to consume her. 

“No!” She shouted, still blocking Harry from the three. “I trusted you! He’s a werewolf!” She points to him, glancing over her shoulder to her friends. “That’s why he’s been missing classes.” She gulps, moving her gaze to the woman beside Lupin. Her voice went lower, “And she….she’s a vampire .” The boys’ stomach plummeted, shudders running up their spines as their mouths went agape. 

Lupin was a werewolf. And Y/n was a vampire.

Lupin creeps closer, removing his hand from Sirius shoulder while Y/n stays put. “How long have you known?”

“Since Professor Snape sent the essay,” she pauses again, a cold chill upon her by the way Y/n was staring at her. Intimidating her with those blank eyes. “And when I found the yearbook from when you were all at school. She’s looked the same for fifteen years!” Hermione took a step back as Y/n moved beside Lupin. “Minus the eyes. It’s why she only walks the castle at night. And why Dumbledore’s been having blood from blood banks donated to madam Pomprey.”

The adults are impressed, Y/n holding back a laugh as she mutters, “Clever girl.”

Remus smirks, “Well, well, well Hermione, you really are the brightest witch of your age I’ve ever met.” From behind, Sirius loses his patience.

“Enough talk, Remus, c’mon. Let’s kill him!”

“Wait--!”

“I did my waiting!” The words echo off the walls, bursting out of Sirius's chest like an explosion. “Twelve years of it! In Azkaban!”

The night had been full of so much chaos. Not only was their professor a werewolf and nightguard a vampire, but Peter Pettigrew was alive and Sirius was innocent. Then Sirius revealed to Harry once they left the Shack that Y/n had actually been named Harry’s Godmother. Filling in the blanks Harry conjured as he tried to piece together the relationship she had with his parents. 

Sirius didn’t want to talk about the night she turned, but informed Harry that she’d left England by order of the Ministry. They put her on their record of living vampires and told her she’d have to request permission to return each time she wanted to visit. Sentencing her to a nomadic life across the globe. The one time she did come home was shortly after Harry’s birth when Lily managed to track her down. Three years after becoming a vampire, her self-control had improved. 

Their conversation was interrupted when the group had the horrifying realization it was the night of a full moon. Lighting up the sky as it broke through the clouds. Casting down its curse on the man bound to it. 

Harry will never forget the image of watching Remus in full transformation going toe-to-toe with Y/n’s true form. The black veins under her bloodshot, blackened eyes. The gray disappeared from the dilation of her pupils. Fangs protruding from her gums, jaw practically dislocated and hissing like a wild animal out for the blood she craved. The two ripping at each other’s flesh, their strength inhuman. Y/n obviously holding back to not kill Remus by accident, who was fighting her with the intent to kill given his mind was lost to the moon. If either of them bit the other it would end in tragedy. 

And while at the time Y/n had 15 years of self-control under her belt, there was always the risk she could lose it.

Even Snape was terrified. Seeing the creature in replace of the girl who saved his life all those years prior. A painful reminder of what could have been his reality. In the years following the incident Snape felt guilt and remorse for Y/n--who’d been the only one in James Potter’s friend group to show him kindness. Often scolding the others for their behavior. She was close to Lily and even sat with her and Snape in class or the Great Hall.

After the clouds cleared and the sun replaced the moon, Harry found himself in Remus’s office, alongside Y/n. It was the first time she’d been out in the daylight, though her body was covered head-to-toe, and sunglasses masked her eyes. Staying along the walls where the shadows seek shelter from the sun. 

“What happened?” Harry asked her when Remus left the room, but not before giving Y/n a friendly hug with the promise to write to her. She would be returning to Hogwarts, continuing her position as night guard. The Golden trio added to the small list of people aware of her condition. “How did you…” he bit his lip, unsure of the right words. “Become what you are?”

If she was bothered by the question, she was good at hiding it. Face never wavering from its expression. “It’s not a pleasant story to the ears, Harry. And I don’t,” she gave a sad smile. “I don’t want to ruin the image you have of your Godfather and Dumbledore--and even Remus.” That had him confused. 

Why would it ruin his image of them? Especially Dumbledore?

“You’re my Godmother,” Harry defended, still reeling in the happiness of knowing he had some family besides his abusive aunt and uncle. People who cared for him. “I want us to not have secrets with each other. I want to understand you--and know how to help you.” 

Y/n chuckled, bringing a cold hand to push some hair from Harry’s face that fell between his eyes. Gently stroking the scar on his forehead as she did so. “I’d expect nothing less from a Gryffindor. You were very brave last night. Saving Sirius and coming between Remus and I.” He flushed, rosy cheeks painting his face. Y/n sighed, removing her glasses so Harry could see her gray eyes. “What I’m going to tell you is not a story for the faint of heart, Harry. Remus, Sirius, Snape, your father….” her sharp inhale lingered a moment. “Life did not treat us well. And we’re still dealing with the consequences.” 

By the end of the tragic story, Harry was at a loss for words. Disbelieved by the truth of Y/n’s origins of becoming a vampire. Initially he thought the group had stumbled upon a rogue one and it targeted her. No, it was deeper and more personal. 

Sirius tried pranking Snape during a full moon. Snape took the bait. His father and Y/n went to save Snape from being killed and Remus attacked her. Leaving her half-dead by the time they reached the infirmary. And Dumbledore made the life-changing decision to transform her into a vampire rather than let her die. 

Sentencing her to a life of eternity, feeding off the blood of humans and to watch her loved ones die while she remained. The same face of an eighteen-year-old girl walking the Earth forever. 

Harry’s heart shattered. 

“What now?” came the question minutes later. Wondering how Y/n managed to stay at Hogwarts, working for the man she clearly loathed by the way she talked about him. Still angry by his decision. “Why are you staying when Sirius is free? Don’t you want to get away from here?” 

‘Away from the painful memories?’ He wanted to add. 

All he got was a shrug and a small smile. “And leave you?” His chest burst with emotion. A statement so simple, but worth a thousand words. “You’re my Godson are you not? Other forces are a threat to you, Harry. And I will not let your parents down.” 

And she didn’t. 

Four years later after that fateful night and here the two were sitting on the edge of the half-destroyed Astronomy tower. Overlooking the river while a lone Phoenix flew across the sky. Embarking on the silence, honoring their loved ones. 

Unsure of what future laid ahead of them, but one thing was for sure. Life may not have treated them well, but the best they could do was move forward. Not let the deaths be for nothing. Make sure the peace withstood to prevent another war. 

The history books would go on to write about the Boy Who Lived and his Godmother, the Lone Vampire. Her name and face, however, are hidden from the public eye. And as the decades pass more and more of her friends join the souls lost in the castle. Leaving only those lucky enough to cross paths to have a glimpse in their memory.

For she would forever be a mystery, with the moon and stars as her companion. 

[colonelarr0w]

What Might've Been

Sypnosis - A mysterious girl appears at the entrance of Jujutsu Technical High School -- not speaking a lick of English and not understanding where she is. She isn't human...but that gets you wondering...what is she?

Pairing(s) - ! ALL PLATONIC ! Satoru Gojo x Reader, Suguru Geto x Reader, Shoko Ieri x Reader

Warning(s) - mature themes, canon JJK violence, gore, child death, angsty ending (I'm sorry gang)

Word Count - 10.4k

A/N - Randomly got an idea to write a fic where the Reader was a curse. I hope you all enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Darkness. 

For as long as you could remember, the only sight seen by your eyes was an overarching darkness that seemed to stretch on forever — never once giving any indication that there may be some kind of light at the end of the otherwise never ending tunnel.  

And to you, that was okay. The darkness became your friend over time, enveloping you in a cocoon of safety that could not be replicated by anything. It held your hands and guided you, watching silently as you grew and developed until a time where you could be used — until a time where you would be useful to the world of curses. 

But like many things, your darkness eventually found its end, creating an opening that allowed light to pour in and the warmth of the sun to touch your skin with gentle hands. Confused, you folded your fingers into the hand that the light offers you, and with squinted eyes you look around.  

Where am I? 

Your head turns, blinking a few times to adjust to the overwhelming light that only seems to brighten each time that your eyelids flutter open. Slowly, you turn in a circle on the heels of your feet, suddenly aware of the unfamiliar sensation that lies beneath the skin of your feet.  

You glance down, tilting your head curiously at the uneven stones beneath you. Curiously, you bend your knees, lowering your palms to the ground and laying it flat against the stone, shocked to feel heat emanating back onto the skin of your palm.  

What are you doing? 

You stand up straight, ears perked as you attempt to locate the source of the voice who had addressed you. Oddly enough, you stand completely alone in the stone pathway, surrounded only by unmoving trees and bright green grass. You open your mouth, trying to will any kind of sound to leave your parted lips, but you remain silent. 

You press your lips back together in a firm line, narrowing your eyes and once again lowering yourself to the ground, this time taking a seat in the center of the stone pathway. Above you is a maroon-colored arch, one that is hanging over a set of stairs that lead somewhere — but you’re not entirely sure just where it leads to.  

Are you comfortable? 

You nod happily, laying both of your palms against the warm stones and spreading out your fingers, feeling smaller pebbles being caught within the lines of your skin. Your eyes wander up your arm, noticing the small stitches that hold the various parts of you together. 

The scars don’t horribly disfigure you, not like the other curses that you could recall seeing in the depths of your memories. They turned out more inhuman than you, you were one of the lucky who was made to pass as human — only discoverable by eyes that shined like the prettiest aquamarine stones. You believe it was called Six Eyes. 

You lift one of your hands off of the stones, suddenly aware of just how hot it had felt against your skin. You shake your hand, forming an ‘o’ with your lips and blowing on the palm of your hand, shocked to feel an opposite sensation. It wasn’t warm, but at the same time it wasn’t completely cold. But it was cold enough to relieve the burn on your skin — and it’s then that you notice the pattern left behind by the stones.  

“C’mon Suguru, I’m sure he won’t mind if we take our time with this one.”  

You turn your head at the sound of another’s voice, tilting it curiously as you watch two figures appear at the top of the steps. Both are tall and wear the same kind of clothing, yet they also wear completely different styles. One of the figures — this one with bright white hair — wears his clothes tight, accentuating his otherwise lanky figure. The other figure — this one with longer, darker hair — wears his clothes baggy, with parachute pants that make his legs look larger than they most likely are. 

You wonder which one of them is supposedly ‘Suguru’. 

Careful now, remember the eyes. 

You nod your head, pushing yourself to your feet with the help of your hands. You lift your head to peer up the stairs, noticing how both of the figures had stopped walking and are peering at you with the same curiosity as yourself.  

“Hey! What’re you doing down there?” It’s the white-haired figure that calls out to you, his covered eyes no doubt focused on you. The dark-haired figure is silent, watching you with a wordless curiosity. Opposites. 

You part your lips to speak again, feeling an uncomfortable vibration in the base of your throat. You quickly snap your jaw shut again, rubbing your fingers against the skin of your throat and wincing — that had been oddly painful. But at the same time, it only spurred on your curiosity. Why could the two figures make sounds with their mouths and you couldn’t? 

“Hey!” the white-haired figure calls out again, this time lifting his arm and waving down at you. You mimic him, lifting your arm and waving back at him. Confused, the white-haired figure turns to the dark-haired figure at his side, nudging him before beginning to descend the steps. 

You wait patiently for both figures to approach you, but even when they do, they stand a healthy distance away from you — likely because of the discolored scars that litter your body, holding you together like a freshly stitched doll.  

An uncomfortable silence hangs over the three of you, only broken by the dark-haired figure clearing his throat and speaking to you, “What are you doing down here?” 

You try for the third time to do what the dark-haired figure is doing — making sounds with his mouth. But the moment that you try, a strangled cough falls from you instead. With both palms, you cover your mouth, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as the figures exchange a look with one another.  

“What’s up with you?” the white-haired figure asks, tilting his head at you. You pout, jutting out your bottom lip and crossing your arms over your chest, disappointed that you couldn’t articulate yourself in the same way that both of the figures could.  

The dark-haired figure is more sympathetic towards you, smacking a hand into the chest of the white-haired figure and shooting him a pointed glare. He turns back to you after a moment, his eyes softening as he gestures with his head towards you.  

"You can't speak?"  

You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows to create an expression that is a mixture between frustration and sadness. The dark-haired figure nods understandingly, humming to himself. You mimic him, humming as well.  

The white-haired figure glances between you and the dark-haired figure, then letting out a dramatic sigh and throwing an arm over the shoulders of the figure standing beside him, still glaring at you through his sunglasses as if you were a roadblock to him – and in a way, you were. 

"Come on Suguru, this is pointless. Let's just--" 

"Shut up Satoru." 

Suguru. He's the one with the dark hair.  

Satoru. He's the one with the white hair.  

Opposites. 

You tilt your head curiously at them, listening as they bicker with one another. How Suguru tries to patient with both you and Satoru and how Satoru only continues to act like a spoiled child. Your eyes continue to flicker between each of the two as they speak, taking mental notes of the difference in their tones, postures, and facial expressions.  

Suguru then turns to you again, having effectively shut Satoru up. You find yourself smiling at the expression that Satoru wears; he looks more like a disappointed child now as opposed to a spoiled one. It made you wonder if he acted like that constantly, or if it was because you were around.  

"Why don't you come with us?" Suguru offers, extending his hand to you. You peer curiously at it, how his fingers lightly shake and how the lines in his palms flex as his fingers extend out to you. You glance down at your own palm, flexing your fingers before placing your palm flat on top of Suguru's. 

Rolling his eyes, Satoru turns on his heel and begins to move back up the stairs, not caring to glance over his shoulder to check that you and Suguru were following him.  

You glance at Suguru, who still holds your hand. You hum again, smiling as Suguru's eyes flicker to meet your awaiting gaze. He returns your smile, then gesturing with his head towards the top of the stairs. You nod understandingly, falling into step with Suguru and climbing the steps.  

You tilt your head back to look at the archways that line the stairs, smiling to yourself as you walk quietly beside Suguru – neither of you say anything about the fact that your fingers are still interlinked. For as foreign as it was to you, it also felt familiar. 

"Come on, you're both taking forever!" Satoru complains from further up the stairs, turning to finally glance at both you and Suguru from over his shoulder.  

You release your hold on Suguru's hand, deciding to take it two steps at a time to properly catch up with Satoru, not wanting to hear him complain any longer. You spread your arms out to balance yourself once you reach the top of the stairs, spinning on your heel and grinning widely as Suguru walks into view – immediately returning your childlike grin. 

"What do we say to Yaga?" Satoru asks as Suguru moves to stand at his side. Suguru hums, his gaze momentarily flickering to sneak a glance at you. You lift your hand to wave at him once his eyes land on you, then taking two large steps to stand directly beside Suguru.  

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," Suguru mutters, feeling his spine stiffen as you bravely fold your fingers into his own, squeezing at them and sending him another closed-eyed smile.  

< … > 

"And she was simply sitting there?" Yaga clarifies, raising an eyebrow at Suguru and Satoru – both of whom nod their heads. Satoru crosses his arms over his chest, having been mentally checked out of the conversation since first entering the office.  

"From what we both saw," Suguru says, sneaking a glance at Satoru and mentally smacking his best friend at the disinterested look on his face, "yes. She was just sitting there." 

Yaga hums in thought, folding his fingers together and resting his chin on top of his knuckles. He turns his head to the door, curious to see what would happen if he were to open it and allow you inside. But at the same time, he didn't want to risk a possible Curse or Curse User to have entry to his office, knowing that the action would carry its own unique set of consequences.  

"Is she human?" Satoru asks, breaking the otherwise tense silence in the office. Yaga's eyes flicker to the third-year, his eyes narrowing as he mulls the question over in his head. That specific thought had not crossed his mind yet – were you human? 

"Has she demonstrated anything that would indicate otherwise?" Yaga inquires. Satoru and Suguru exchange glances, thinking about your odd behavior and your inability to verbally communicate with either of them.  

"Well, she acted oddly as we spoke to her. And when she herself tried to speak back to us, it was almost like she wasn't able to," Suguru answers, recalling the way that you had opened your mouth to speak and winced at the realization that nothing would come out.  

Yaga nods thoughtfully, once again looking to the closed office door. He ponders his options, weighing them in his mind before he braces his palms against his legs, rising to his feet. He closes the distance to the door in two, long strides.  

Outside of the door, you turn your head to the sound of the office's door clicking open, revealing a man with tanned skin and buzzed dark brown hair. You tilt your head up at him, pushing yourself to your feet and hiding your hands behind your back, peering up at the man with curious eyes.  

"Hello there," Yaga says to you, trying his hardest not to sound intimidating. You blink at him, resembling a deer caught in a truck's headlights as you tilt your head to the opposite side.  

Deciding to try again, you part your lips to speak, wanting desperately to say something to the man that towers over you. But just like the previous two times, the only thing that comes from your throat is a hum – just like how Suguru had hummed at you before.  

Furrowing his eyebrows, Yaga glances down at your hands, watching as you lay your fingers against your throat, squeezing at it as if trying to force sounds out of it. He narrows his eyes at you, humming to himself before turning back to the office door. No, you weren't human. 

"Why don't you come with me?" Yaga offers, gesturing with his hand towards the office. You follow his gaze, peering inside to see both Suguru and Satoru sitting on two wooden chairs. You grin, promptly making your way inside and beelining for Suguru, lowering yourself to sit cross-legged in front of his chair. 

Yaga is only a step behind you, watching through narrowed eyes as you sit down in front of Suguru. With the way that you glance up at him, one might think that you were the third-year's obedient dog. Your eyes wait for him to notice you, lighting up the moment that his gaze meets yours – even if it's only for a fleeting moment.  

They know what you are, be very careful. 

You shake your head, ignoring the ringing in your ears and turning back to Yaga. The older man sits behind a grand oak desk, one that has papers scattered about its surface with scribbled lines drawn onto them. Suguru furrows hie eyebrows down at you, having noticed the flickering expression that had passed over your face – as if someone had blown into your ear and startled you.  

"Both of you keep an eye on her. You may tell Shoko as well, but try to keep her from the other students," Yaga instructs, receiving nods of agreement from both Satoru and Suguru. You turn your head halfway to Yaga, curious as to who this mysterious 'Shoko' was.  

Would they be another figure like Satoru? Or were they someone like Suguru? 

"We understand," Suguru says, then standing from his seat and offering his hand to you. You lay your palm against his, allowing him to lift you off of the ground with shocking strength.  

Satoru puffs out the air that he holds in his lungs, not reacting as his bangs fall back into place over his eyes, shielding his vision. You tilt your head at him, was he hiding his eyes on purpose? Or was there something else about him that you simply didn't know?  

"Come on, let's get you a uniform," Suguru says to you, smiling. You return his smile brightly, bounding after him as he makes his way to the door of the office. Satoru follows close behind, hunched over with his hands stuffed into his pockets. It was effortlessly clear that he was inconvenienced by your presence. 

You follow close behind Suguru as he leads you down a long, winding hallway. Besides the three of you, there isn't anyone else, which only piques your curiosity in who 'Shoko' was and who the 'other students' were. Deep down, you hoped that Shoko wasn't anything like Satoru – who continued to make it clear that he didn't like you one bit.  

You turn your head to sneak a glance at Satoru, taking a mental note of the way that his eyebrows pinch together and the way that a pout settles over his lips. He walks close to Suguru's side, similar to the way that you did.  

Suguru stops walking eventually, turning to peer down a small archway that leads to an outdoor area, one with the trees that matched those that you had walked past when Suguru and Satoru had led you up all of those stairs.  

"Stay here, I'll go and get Shoko," Suguru says, nodding at both you and Satoru before walking outside. You take a step after him, but Satoru is quick to stop you, his fingers closing around your wrist and tugging you back to your original position.  

"He said stay," Satoru says slowly, speaking to you as if you were a child who lacked understanding. You nod at him, pressing your lips firmly together and waiting patiently for Suguru to return.  

The dark-haired male returns a few seconds later, another figure following behind him. Their hair is short and brown, with a beauty mark just underneath their left eye. You peer curiously at them, watching as they shift the position of something in their mouth – a stick with a brown end.  

"Woah," the figure says, eyes raking up and down your figure before their eyes flicker between Suguru and Satoru, neither of which say anything in response. "Shoko, it's nice to meet you." 

You smile brightly at the figure, holding your hand out to her in the same way that Suguru had done to you so many times before. Shoko returns your smile with one of her own, soft and gentle; and her hand folds into yours, shaking it politely. 

"We've been tasked to keep an eye on her. She isn't allowed to be around any of the other students, obviously with us being the only exception," Suguru explains, stowing his hands away in his pockets, "at least, that's what Yaga told us." 

"Babysitting duty," Satoru says in a sour tone, scrunching his nose in an expression of disgust as he glances to Shoko. She reaches a hand out, swiping at the back of his head and rolling her eyes at the dramatic cry that he lets out.  

"You're such a jerk," Shoko mutters through her teeth, then turning to you, "don't mind him, yeah?" 

You flash her a closed-eye smile, nodding in agreement.  

< … > 

"Go on and try again, there's nothing wrong with trying," Suguru says with a reassuring smile, finding himself biting back a chuckle at the frustrated expression that passes over your face. You puff your cheeks out, annoyed at the fact that every time that you tried to speak...nothing happened.  

You inhale deeply, puffing your chest out and holding the air in your lungs before forcing your lips apart, trying once again to say one simple word.  

Ignoring the small burn in your throat, you screw your eyes shut. 

"Hello." 

Suguru smiles, his eyes crinkled at the corners as you open your eyes again, staring at him like a deer in headlights. "See? I told you that you could do it." 

You grin widely, springing up from your place in front of Suguru and barely containing the excitement that shoots through you. You curl your hands into gleeful fists as you continue happily dancing around, earning a proud chuckle from Suguru. 

"Hello," you repeat, shocked at the sound of your own voice. It didn't sound anything like the little whispers in your head. Those were raspy, gravelly voices that felt like nails being dragged down a chalkboard. Your voice was soft, quiet – a stark contrast. 

"Hi," Suguru returns, smiling again at you as you seat yourself back down in front of him. "Now, what's your name?" 

You purse your lips, humming in thought before bubbling, "(Y/N)!" 

Suguru nods, reaching a hand out to affectionately ruffle your hair. You lean into the touch, smiling brightly and repeating your name to him again.  

Your ears perk at the sound of two pairs of footsteps, turning to see Satoru and Shoko walking into the otherwise empty classroom – presumably looking for both yourself and Suguru. Satoru says nothing to either of you whereas Shoko waves politely, shooting you a kind smile.  

"Hi!" you say excitedly. The sound of your voice causes Shoko's eyes to widen, the cigarette between her lips falling to the floor in front of her. The ghost of her smile returns, spreading across her face as she kneels in front of you.  

"Well would you look at that? You found your voice," Shoko compliments, patting your head in a fashion similar to the way that Suguru had. You smile at the display of affection, leaning closer to Shoko and then glancing to Satoru, hoping for that same kind of praise.  

He rolls his eyes begrudgingly, unfolding the arms that he had previously crossed over his chest. "Good job (Y/N)." 

You smile, scrunching your nose up at him. 

< ... > 

"There you go. Now, when you go to punch someone, tuck your thumb inward," Suguru instructs, lifting his hand and folding his own thumb inward, then gesturing to you to mimic the action.  

"In," you repeat, holding up your hand and making a show of tucking your thumb inward. Suguru nods at you, then gesturing to the punching dummy that he had nicked from one of the training rooms in order to help you with your self-defense.  

It had been six months since Suguru first stumbled upon you at the stairs of Jujutsu Tech, and in those six months he still didn't have an answer to the question of who you really were or where you truly came from.  

Sure, you looked human enough – even though the stitches that littered your body could tell a completely different story depending on the author. But even with those stitches, you acted like a constantly excitable child, always wanting to be at Suguru's side and wanting to be involved in everything that he did.  

To him, it was endearing, albeit very confusing at the same time.  

You turn to the punching dummy in front of you, curling your hands into fists and making sure to tuck your thumbs inward just like you had been told. You throw a punch at the dummy, smiling as it wobbles backward before returning to its original position.  

"Good?" Your body turns to glance at Suguru, already feeling your senses tingling at the proud smile that settles itself on Suguru's lips.  

"Good job (Y/N)." 

"Yeah, you're doin' great," Shoko agrees as she walks onto the training field, smiling and returning your hug as you rush to throw your arms around her. "Yeah, yeah, I missed you too." 

"Where's 'Toru?" you inquire curiously, tilting your head as you realize Satoru's absence. Shoko glances over her shoulder, furrowing her eyebrows and letting out an exasperated sigh through her nose.  

"He was supposed to be right behind me. Guess he got sidetracked," Shoko says offhandedly, though she regrets her tone upon seeing the fall in your expression. Your shoulders slump, eyes casting themselves to the ground as you take a step back from her.  

"Does 'Toru like me?"  

Suguru and Shoko exchange knowing glances with one another. Neither of them answer you quickly, which only adds to the feeling of dejection.  

Shoko lifts her hand, resting it reassuringly on your shoulder and sending you a comforting smile. "Sure he does, he just has a weird way of showin' it." 

All you could do is nod in response. 

< … >  

"A mission?" You can't help but tilt your head at Suguru, who only nods at you as he adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves. He chuckles, then turning completely to you. 

“Yeah, Yaga will sometimes send us out on missions. We go out to a given location and exorcise the curses that reside there,” Suguru explains, watching as you mull his words over in your head.  

Curses? Exorcise? 

“What’s a curse?” you ask, following Suguru as he begins to walk towards the entrance of Jujutsu Tech. He turns to glance at you over his shoulder, feeling himself smile as you spread your arms out to balance yourself, having accidentally rolled your ankle while following him.  

“A curse is—“ 

“There you are Suguru! I’m offended, you almost left without me,” Satoru says loudly from behind you, dramatically wiping away tears that definitely don’t exist.  

You turn and smile as the snowy-haired male approaches both you and Suguru, throwing his arm over Suguru’s shoulder and sparing you a half-assed glance. You smile and wave, still polite as ever.  

“Are you going too?” you turn to Satoru, “Yaga said that I can go too!” 

Satoru forces himself to smile, left eye twitching in annoyance as he turns his head to look at you. “Joy.” 

“Don’t be like that Satoru,” Suguru scolds, whacking a hand against the back of Satoru’s head. The latter lets out a yelp, cupping the back of his head and shooting Suguru a half-assed glare — one that is immediately reciprocated by the raven-haired male.  

You smile lightly at both of the boy’s antics, taking two steps to stand at Suguru’s left side, then turning your head to flash that same smile at Satoru. 

For a moment, something inside of Satoru softens. But only for a moment. 

“Ready to go?” you say to both of the third-years, smiling and folding your hands behind your back as your gaze flickers between the two.  

“Stay close, okay?” Suguru says to you, his eyes softening as his gaze falls on you. You smile, nodding your head at him.  

“Okay!” 

< … >  

So that’s what an exorcism is. 

You watch through curious eyes as Suguru holds what used to be a curse in his hands, fingers curled around the small, swirling ball. He lifts it up, eyes examining it for a moment before he notices your curious gaze.  

“That’s…what a curse is?” you say, pointing at it and scrunching your nose. Suguru nods his head, opening his mouth and promptly absorbing the curse — just as he always had done.  

Your eyes widen as you watch him consume the ball, eyebrows lifting to create a worried indent in the skin of your forehead. Your hands shoot out, taking hold of either side of his face and tilting it this way and that.  

“What did you do that for?!” you squeal, squeezing Suguru’s face and staring worriedly at him. He chuckles, unable to answer with the force at which you hold his cheeks.  

“It’s okay (Y/N),” he says, voice slightly muddled, “it’s just my technique.” 

“Technique?” you echo. 

He nods, adjusting his jaw once your hands release him. He smiles again at you, the sight slightly reassuring you.  

“Sorcerers have what are called Cursed Techniques, mine just so happens to be the absorption of curses,” Suguru explains, smacking his lips as a disgusted expression falls over his face.  

You tilt your head at him, pressing two fingers against your throat before your gaze returns to his facial expression — how his eyebrows are slightly pinched together, how his eyes water and how his jaw momentarily sets itself in place.  

“Not good?” you whisper to him, as if asking him about a secret that only he knew the answer to. Suguru’s eyes flicker to you, his gaze softening.  

“No,” he answers simply, shaking his head at you. You pout, bottom lip jutting out before you reach out and pat his shoulder — similar to the way that he would pat either your head or shoulder as a means of comfort.  

“Why do you do it then?”  

Suguru pauses, his hand coming up to cover your own. His fingers affectionately squeeze your own, lips turning upward in a smile just as soft as his actions.  

“It’s a curse (Y/N). We’re meant to exorcise them,” Suguru reiterates, smacking his lips together in an attempt to rid his tongue of the taste left behind by the consumed curse.  

You hum, glancing down at the stitches that crawl up your arms. We’re meant to do it. We’re meant to do it.  

But why are they meant to do it? 

“So…curses are bad?” you turn your head to Suguru, falling into step with him as he glances down at his phone. Satoru must have texted him regarding the curse that he was meant to exorcise. 

Suguru hums in agreement, stowing his phone away into his pocket and casting you a sideways glance. He makes a mental note of the conflicted expression on your face, eyebrows pinched together and eyes slightly narrowed.  

“Yeah, they pose as a danger to people that can’t see them. So us Jujutsu Sorcerers are sent to exorcise them,” Suguru explains, reaching behind him to fold his fingers into your own. Your lips, which usually turn upward at any given affection, remain pressed together in a thin line.  

Your eyes widen for a moment, an expression of realization flickering over your face. You stop walking beside Suguru, not reacting as his hand tugs at yours, silently telling you to continue walking.  

“…they pose as a danger to people that can’t see them.” 

Wait a minute. 

“What are you doing out here? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?” Suguru says gently to the little girl standing in front of him, her arms wound tightly around a small stuffed rabbit.  

She sniffles, using the hand that doesn’t hold her rabbit to wipe the stray tears that roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she sobs.  

Suguru sighs, an exasperated puff of breath through his nose as he places a hand on top of the girl’s head, rubbing her hair comfortingly.  

“It’s alright.” 

Curiously, you kneel down beside Suguru, staring at the girl with your head tilted to the side. You lift a finger, pointing at the rabbit that the girl clutches to her chest.  

“I like your toy,” you say to her with a smile, mimicking the way that Suguru had smiled at the girl in order to prove that he wasn’t there to hurt her.  

The girl only sniffles again, her gaze never once leaving Suguru. Curiously, the raven-haired male flicks his eyes to glance at you — had the girl maybe not heard you? 

“I like your rabbit,” Suguru repeats, gesturing with his head towards the toy clutched in the girl’s arms. The girl smiles gently, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she hugs her rabbit a little tighter. 

“Thanks Mister.” 

You pause, blinking. The girl continues to smile at Suguru, forgetting about any and all of the fear that she had been feeling just seconds before.  

She couldn’t see you. 

Non-sorcerers can’t see Curses. Did that mean that…? 

“Hey…(Y/N), you alright?” Suguru asks, his voice filtering its way back into your ears. You turn quickly to him, blinking away the last remnants of your trance.  

“Yeah! I’m okay!” you answer with a bubbly smile, though that thought lingers in the back of your mind — what were you? 

< … > 

“Have any of you seen (Y/N)? I wanted to practice a Reverse Curse Technique with her,” Shoko shifts her cigarette from the left side of her mouth to her right, peering curiously at Suguru and Satoru.  

Satoru shrugs, sipping at the can of cola in his hand and glancing at Suguru, who also shrugs.  

“Lovely, you’re both so useful,” Shoko rolls her eyes, turning on her heel and departing from the room. She wanders down the hall, passing by your dorm and stopping as she notices the door had been left open.  

Curiously, she peers inside, shocked to see you sitting in the center of the room. Surrounding your crossed legs are various textbooks from taken from the library, all of them open to pictures of various curses — ranging from Second-Grade to Special-Grade.  

Your eyes roam over the sketched pictures, fingers running over a particularly nasty looking Special-Grade curse that looks oddly similar to a disfigured human — a woman to be exact. You tilt your head at the image of her, her arms were stitched in a similar fashion to your own, but yet you both looked drastically different.  

“(Y/N)? What’re you doin’ in here?” Shoko smiles softly at you as she enters, knocking once to alert you to her presence. You turn quickly to her, slamming the textbook shut and looking at her as if you had been caught doing something that you weren’t meant to be doing.  

“Hi Sho’!” you say affectionately, standing from your place in the center of the room and brushing your hands down the front of your pants. She eyes you curiously, humming to herself before removing her cigarette from between her lips, puffing out one last cloud of smoke before she walks to the window of your dormitory, then disposing of her finished cigarette.  

She tilts her head, noticing your avoidance of her question, “Everything okay?” 

You nod, humming at her and folding your hands behind your back, forcing your gaze to focus on her and not wander down to the closed textbook by your foot. You swallow the growing lump in your throat, wincing as it momentarily gets stuck — hopefully Shoko wouldn’t notice.  

“Yeah! I was just reading, Sugu said it was a good way to kill time!” you answer with your usual bubbly smile, but Shoko doesn’t fail to notice how it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You were hiding something, and it wasn’t very subtle. 

“Oh cool, what’re you reading?” Shoko inquires, tilting her head and lowering herself to the floor, plucking one of the closed textbooks off of the ground and flipping through it. She makes a mental note of the way that your expression falls, like a child who had been caught doing something that they shouldn’t.  

“Reading about curses, those thingies that Suguru and ‘Toru went to exorcise,” you answer honestly, taking the textbook from her and opening to the page that you had been staring at, turning it towards her and smiling again — hoping again that she wouldn’t notice the way that you force your lips upward.  

“Oh, that’s a Special-Grade,” Shoko comments, smiling at you as you turn the textbook back around, glancing down at the sketched picture. “They’re tough ones.” 

“Stronger than Sugu and ‘Toru?” 

Shoko shakes her head, chuckling breathily, “No, not stronger than those two idiots.” 

You glance down at the picture, at the stitches on the curse’s arms and the way that its eyes crinkle in a sadistic, maniacal smile. You tilt your head — she looked a little bit like you. 

“Are curses bad?” you glance up at Shoko, who stares curiously back at you. “Are all of them bad?” 

“Well, yeah. They wanna hurt the innocent, and that’s why we exorcise them,” Shoko explains, following you to the floor as you sit down, crossing your legs. Your eyes wander back down to the sketched image, eyebrows pinching together.  

“But what if a curse doesn’t hurt people?” 

“That’s practically unheard of,” Shoko comments, turning to you, “a lot of the curses we exorcise have already hurt innocent bystanders.” 

You nod your head, though the action feels forced. You hadn’t hurt anyone…did that make you a bad curse? 

< … > 

Go away. 

Go away. 

GO THE FUCK AWAY. 

You step back from the now broken mirror, chest rising and falling in heaving breaths as you glance down at your reddened arms, nail marks dragged against your skin in angry red lines.  

Eyes that scream tales of hatred flicker up to your awaiting reflection, the broken glass giving your body a fragmented look that only adds to your disgust of the stitches that hold you together. 

You were the same as that broken mirror — fragmented and messily put back together by hands that weren’t your own.  

Your shoulders continue to rise and fall in tune with your heavy intakes of air, hands curled into white-knuckled fists with blood dripping down the crevices of your skin. You bled the same as they did, and yet you were still so drastically different. 

“Monster,” you whisper to your reflection, glancing back at it and reeling your arm back, preparing to strike at the broken mirror again. 

You are no monster. 

You pause, fist hanging limply in midair as you stare at your eyes. Something in you tells you to complete the action, but you don’t.  

“Curse.” Shakily, you lift a finger to point at the fragmented reflection that stares back at you.  

That’s better. 

You glance down at the reddened lines that now adorn your arms, nail marks left behind by angered scratching fueled by the sight of your stitches.  

You weren’t like Suguru or Satoru — they were human. 

I’m not human. 

Now show them what a true curse is. 

< … > 

"Another Special-Grade? Honestly, can they just not find qualified sorcerers to deal with these things?" Satoru complains loudly, his eyes momentarily falling shut as Shoko slips his darkened sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose.  

Suguru bites back the laugh that bubbles at the back of his throat, his gaze flickering to watch the dramatics of his best friend – which has now resulted in the snowy-haired male lying flat on the floor of the gymnasium, his arms spread at his sides like a starfish.  

"Supposedly, we're the only two that are qualified enough to take on Special-Grades. You know that Satoru," Suguru reminds him, kneeling down on the floor and sitting cross-legged beside Satoru, who blows a puff of air from his parted lips and groans as his bangs fall back over his eyes.  

"Bullshit," Satoru mutters, pushing himself up onto his elbows and turning his head just enough to glance at Suguru. 

"Come on, we should leave now before Yaga gets upset." 

Satoru groans again, standing with Suguru's help and glancing at Shoko – who is currently lighting what the males believe to be her fourth cigarette of the day, though neither of them comment on it.  

"Can one of you check on (Y/N) before you go? Haven't seen her," Shoko mutters, struggling momentarily with her lighter. The moment that the end of her cigarette is lit, she takes a deep inhale, then releasing the small cloud of smoke in front of her and waving it away quickly.  

Suguru's eyebrows pinch together, "What are you talking about?" 

Shoko pauses, she hadn't told either of them about the state that she had found you in that day; surrounded by meaningless textbooks and looking at the pictures as if they had resonated with you on a spiritual level.  

"Just," Shoko pauses, already lifting her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose, pinching it, "check on her, yeah?" 

Satoru opens his mouth to protest, but Suguru is quick to slap the palm of his hand against his friend's parted lips, effectively silencing him.  

"Sure thing," Suguru answers with a closed-eye smile, moving his hand from Satoru's mouth at the feeling of the center of his palm being licked.  

The walk to your dormitory from the gymnasium isn't very long, or at least, it wouldn't have been as long as it was if Satoru wasn't loudly complaining and dragging his feet. As much as Suguru wants to spin on his heel and tell Satoru to just stop, he restrains himself – focused instead on getting to you and figuring out the source of Shoko's concern.  

He rounds the corner to the student dormitories, his eyebrows pinching together as he notices your door open. Satoru pauses as well, resisting the urge that he has to throw out a sarcastic quip.  

"(Y/N)?" Suguru calls into the empty room, taking a step over the threshold and peering curiously around your dormitory's interior. The first thing that he notices is the overturned furniture, then the scattered pages of various textbooks, and lastly the broken glass that litters the floor. What the hell happened?  

"What the hell happened here?" Satoru asks, looking around and lifting his leg to be sure that he doesn't step on any broken glass. Suguru exhales shakily, already turning on his heel and leaving the room – now he understood all of Shoko's concern. 

"Come on, we're finding (Y/N)." 

< … > 

"No, wait, please!" 

You tilt your head, eyes widening momentarily as the man in front of you begins to expand, his eyes bulging from his head as blood spills from his lash line like tears. His hands lift shakily, fingers digging into his hair before his head promptly explodes.  

His body tilts backward, falling with a lifeless thud.  

See? Isn't it entertaining?  

You stare down at the headless corpse, kneeling down and poking at the blood that dribbles down the man's neck. The liquid clings to your skin, the sight bringing a disgusted curl to your lips as you quickly straighten yourself, standing.  

You turn on your heel, exiting the alleyway that you had cornered the man in, wandering down the busy street and listening to the buzz of the pedestrians that surround you. You turn your head this way and that, simply taking in the simplicity of the lives that humans lead.  

As you continue to walk down the street, you find yourself smiling at the fact that nobody pays you any mind – not that they had the ability to. You were unseen for as long as you wished to be unseen, creeping up on whoever you wished with the same stealth as a prowling cat.  

You should get that one next.  

You lift your head to look ahead, eyes landing on a young girl wandering the streets, her eyes bright and glittering as she skips along. Her arms are wound tightly around a stuffed animal, just like the other young girl that had been unable to see you on that mission with Suguru.  

A smirk curls the corner of your lips upwards, eyes crinkling at the corners as you slowly begin to stalk your way towards the young girl. She continues walking, her little pigtails swaying with each step of her feet. You reach a hand out, the tips of your fingers just barely grazing the back of her head. 

"(Y/N)." 

You pause, eyes wide as you lift your head to stare ahead. The young girl turns, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion as she stares right through you, her eyes focused instead on the raven-haired male that stands behind you.  

Suguru pauses, watching you with a tilt to his head that simply asks, "What are you doing?" His body language otherwise is relaxed, showing you that he was of no threat to you. He didn't want you to think that he was going to hurt you.  

You don't turn to face Suguru, instead reaching a hand out and laying your palm flat against the top of the girl's head. She gives no reaction, her eyes still focused on the male who had called her by the wrong name.  

Suguru watches through horrified eyes as the girl promptly expands, her voice catching in her throat. Her parted lips only release a high-pitched squeak before the upper half of her body explodes.  

Her blood spatters against the pavement in front of her, the lower half of her body tilting backward before it falls to the ground with a dull, lifeless thud.  

The passerby that walk down the street pause, and it only takes one person screaming to send the surrounding pedestrians into a state of unbridled panic. 

Suguru watches, his eyes wide as those around him scramble for safety, not knowing what was going on or who had been the cause of the carnage that lay in the middle of the sidewalk. His body stands as stiff as a board, eyes flickering momentarily down to the girl who lays in the sidewalk.  

“(Y/N),” he begins, taking a brave step towards you and reaching for your wrist. Your eyes flicker down to his outstretched fingers, quickly avoiding him and turning around to blankly glare at him.  

It was a look that he had never seen on your face before, hatred swirling in your eyes and a disgusted scowl curling the corner of your lip upward. You glared at him as if he were the scum of the Earth — devoid of all of the warmth that you once held for him.  

“What? Are you going to exorcise me too?” you inquire with a tilt of your head, hair falling over your shoulders as you turn completely to face him.  

Suguru furrows his eyebrows together, staring at you as if you had somehow sprouted another head. Exorcise you? How would he even be able to do that? 

He doesn’t know what you are, remind him. 

Your lips peel back in an angered growl as you turn your head to catch a glance at the young girl lying on the sidewalk. Her blood had already somewhat dried up, now caked on top of the sandy brown tiles of the pavement.  

“I did what the other curses do,” you murmur, eyes flickering down to your now bloodied hands. This very time yesterday you would have scrunched your nose in disgust and tried to scrub every last droplet of blood from your palms.  

But now? 

Now you looked down at the blood like it was your own personal golden trophy — a reminder of what you had become and the persona that you had adopted. If you were considered a curse, then you were going to show everyone a true curse…even Suguru. 

“Does that mean that now you’re going to exorcise me?”  

Suguru pauses, swallowing the growing lump in his throat and glancing at you with an expression that is an odd mixture of confusion and concern.  

“(Y/N), what are you talking about? You aren’t a curse,” Suguru says, his sentence momentarily broken by a breathy chuckle. You grit your teeth, shaking your head at him.  

He doesn’t understand…make him understand.  

“Only you, ‘Toru, and Sho’ can see me,” you point out, “nobody else can.” 

“That’s not true. Yaga and—“ his voice trails off. You nod knowingly, smirking as the realization finally dawns on the male standing in front of you.  

“And no one else,” you finish for him, taking a step towards him. Then you take another, and another, and suddenly your shoulder is brushing against his as you move to walk past him. “You don’t find that odd?” 

Suguru turns quickly, already wanting to reach out for you and knock some kind of sense into you. But you’re much swifter than he is, and you dodge the hand that reaches out for you. 

“But you aren’t like the other curses.” 

You smirk, gesturing with only your eyes down to the girl that lays dead in the middle of the sidewalk.  

“Is that not what other curses do?” you jab a thumb over your shoulder, reminding Suguru of what lies behind you. “Is that not why you exorcise them?” 

Suguru pauses, once again swallowing the lump in his throat and forcing his gaze to focus on you — trying to forget what lies just over your shoulder. He didn’t want to accept it, he couldn’t accept it, but you were making it abundantly clear that you held not an ounce of remorse.  

You were a curse. And he was a Sorcerer. 

What the fuck does he do now? 

< … > 

Suguru Geto —> Satoru Gojo 

You need to get down to ******. Something’s REALLY wrong with (Y/N).  

Satoru Gojo --> Suguru Geto 

What do you mean?  

Suguru Geto --> Satoru Gojo 

Just get down here.  

Satoru Gojo --> Suguru Geto 

Alright, I'm on my way.  

"Suguru! What's going on?" Satoru waves his hand in the air as he slows to a stop at Suguru's side, peering curiously at his best friend through the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Suguru stands quickly, not bothering to answer before he's sweeping past Satoru and leading him in the direction that you had walked off in.  

Curiously, Satoru follows, falling quickly into step with Suguru as both sorcerers walk down the pedestrian-filled sidewalk. The former doesn't fail to notice the way that Suguru's eyes dart around the various shops and scan the various faces that happen to pass by. The only question that he had was; why? 

"Are you – uh – gonna tell me what's going on?" Satoru finally breaks the silence between himself and Suguru after they had been walking for a good five minutes in nothing but an awkward, tense silence.  

Suguru swallows the lump in his throat, voice heavy when he finds it, "Just...something's wrong with (Y/N)." 

"Yeah," Satoru replies with a roll of his eyes, "I gathered that much." 

"No, I mean really wrong. She isn't human Satoru," Suguru says gravely, already feeling himself shudder at the realization that you were nothing like what he had originally believed. But after you told him that nobody beside himself and the others at Jujutsu Tech could see you, everything quickly fell into place.  

"What do you mean she isn't human?" Satoru echoes, tilting his head curiously as Suguru stops at the entrance point of a darkened alleyway. Brown eyes stare quietly down the length of the alleyway, focusing on something before Suguru takes a brave step forward with Satoru following close behind.  

"I mean that she's a curse," Suguru says finally, turning his head to glance at Satoru.  

The snowy-haired male pauses, standing as still as stone at the entrance of the alleyway. His jaw is slack, but he's quick to snap it back into place. "A curse?" 

Suguru doesn't answer, not that he really needs to. But Satoru wants him to, he wants an explanation – a play-by-play of just how it came out that you weren't human. If you were really a curse, how come his Six Eyes had never told him that? What about you made them falter? 

Or maybe...maybe they hadn't faltered. Had Satoru ignored his Six Eyes when they told him that you weren't human when he first met you? 

"Let's just find her and get her back to Jujutsu High before anything happens," Suguru says as firmly as he can, though Satoru doesn't fail to notice the slight waver to his best friend's voice. He had cared about you from the moment that his eyes fell on you, tucking you underneath his wing and shielding you from the uglier parts of the Jujutsu world.  

And yet, here he was, still protecting you even when you were the one thing that he had sworn to protect other people from.  

That was the difference between Satoru and Suguru. Suguru would protect you even if you were digging a knife into his chest. He would protect you even if it meant turning the entire world against him. Satoru wouldn't. 

If he found you before Suguru, he would exorcise you on the spot – with absolutely no remorse.  

Because at the end of the day, if you were a curse, then you were no better than every other curse that he had seen. You were a danger, a hazard, a posing threat to all non-Jujutsu Sorcerers. It didn't matter what connection he had to you or what relationship he had with you; you were to be exorcised.  

"Why don't we just exorcise her?" Satoru suggests, indifference seeping into his tone. Suguru turns quickly, looking at Satoru as if he had just been stabbed.  

"Are you serious? Satoru, we can't just--" 

"She's a curse Suguru. It'll be the exact same as any other mission that we've gone on," Satoru points out, ignoring Suguru's pointed glare as the pair wanders further into the alleyway. "She can't be that strong, you've never trained her with the use of Cursed Energy." 

Suguru remains silent, looking around the nooks and crannies of the alleyway as if you would be hiding in any of them. Satoru follows closely behind, though he doesn't put as much effort into finding you.  

"Don't rope her into the same group as those other curses," Suguru says, turning and sending Satoru a warning glare, "she's nothing like them." 

From somewhere deep in the alleyway, both of the males hear a drawn out "aww".  

Suguru turns, eyes widening as he tries to locate where the sound had come from. He knew that voice, he knew that voice, of course he knew that voice.  

Satoru pauses, the arms that were once crossed over his chest unfolding as he follows Suguru's gaze, also trying to locate where the sound had come from. A whisper in his ear tells him to look upward, and so he does.  

There, sitting in the darkness, is you. Your legs dangle over the fire escape of the accompanying apartment building, arm lifting in a friendly wave as you gaze down at both Suguru and Satoru – both of whom remain silent at the sight of you.  

"Did you both come here to exorcise me?" Your voice is as sickly sweet as it always had been, though this time it's tinged with a second emotion, one that neither male is able to correctly put their finger on. Was it malice? Or was it a twisted sense of joy over being found? 

"No (Y/N). We came here to help you--" 

"No you didn't!" you're quick to cut him off, standing from your place on the fire exit and smiling widely. "I just heard you both. I may be a curse, but I'm not completely dense." 

Neither of them answer you, but you can see that they desperately want to. You wonder if they pause because they don't know what to say or if what they want to say would only fuel your already burning anger.  

"(Y/N)--" 

"How will you do it?"  

Suguru pauses, staring up at you. He swallows – he knows what you're referring to. You're wondering if he'll absorb you just like he would any other curse, or if he would exorcise you in a more traditional matter. You wonder if your off-colored blood would stain his hands and if he would stare at it the same way that you had stared at the young girl's blood on your own hands.  

Satoru looks down at his feet, ignoring the uncomfortable tingle in his bones as his nails dig into the palms of his hands. He grits his teeth, willing himself to remain silent even though he so desperately wants to bite out an angered comment to you. He wants to yell at you for deceiving him, for making him believe that you were human – that you could be trusted.  

And oddly enough, he doesn't. His urge to remain silent wins, and so stay silent is exactly what he does.  

"(Y/N), I'm not going to exorcise you," Suguru says reassuringly, trying his best to coax you down from your place above him. You tilt your head at him, eyes sparkling as you silently will him to continue. Maybe his argument would be good enough, but it would most likely be the exact opposite.  

"Yes you are," you bite back, tone bitter and dead. Suddenly you aren't as sweet as you were before, replaced instead by a persona that neither Suguru nor Satoru had seen before. Whatever curse you were, you had discovered it, and you were embracing it in a tight hug that nobody would be able to pry you from.  

That's right, remind them. 

"I'm just wondering how you're going to do it." 

Suguru shakes his head again, his voice catching in his throat. He knows that he's going to have to exorcise you, not even because of protocol but because of the safety of every non-Jujutsu Sorcerer. Though he doesn't want to believe it, anyone could see as plain as day, you were dangerous.  

You had killed a young girl without so much as a blink of your eye. Her blood on your hands meant nothing to you, you had glanced down at your stained palms with a glint of interest instead of disgust. You looked down at her body like it was nothing but a squashed ant on the ground.  

Who was to say that you wouldn't kill again with that same lack of remorse? 

"I'm not going to exorcise you," Suguru says again. You tilt your head, you know that he doesn't sound sincere, but at the same time he does. "I...can't exorcise you." 

You smile, eyes folding at the corners as smile lines indent your forehead. You stand from your place atop the fire escape, though you make no notion to make your way down to where both sorcerers stand. It's tempting, you could fight them and prove your strength; but it would most likely end with you being exorcised anyway.  

They were Special-Grade sorcerers after all, and you had no idea what grade level you fell into. All you knew was that you had the ability to make people disappear...or rather...make portions of them disappear into bloody heaps.  

"Suguru," Satoru says warningly, already readying his body for a flurry of attacks. If he had to fight you, he wouldn't hold back. To him, you were nothing but a curse, but this time, he knew your name.  

"Wait." 

Satoru pauses, watching as Suguru takes a brave step towards the fire escape, looking up its ladder to maintain eye contact with you. You peer curiously down at him, trusting him.  

His heart thuds in his ears as you slowly descend the ladder, pausing just a few steps above Suguru and glancing down your nose at him. Your hands hold the metal steps of the ladder, fingers curled tightly around the rusted metal as you remain silent, keeping Suguru's gaze.  

"You haven't answered me," you say quietly, your voice bordering on a whisper, "how are you going to exorcise me?" 

Suguru shakes his head again, blinking away the tears that cling to his waterline – a result of him keeping his eyes open for a prolonged period of time. He knows that he has to, but he doesn't want to.  

Was this the sacrifice of a Jujutsu Sorcerer? 

He's still going to exorcise you.  

You watch through widened eyes as Suguru's hand lays flat against your chest, fingers bunching up the front of your shirt and tugging you forward roughly. Before you're able to react, everything goes dark. Your vision closes it on itself, the last thing you see being Suguru's tear-filled eyes staring back at you, a desperate "I'm sorry" caught in his throat – never to be uttered.  

Satoru lifts his head at the sudden silence that falls over the alleyway, eyes widening as he notices the ball curled between Suguru's fingers. You're no longer standing on the ladder of the fire escape. 

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.  

"Suguru," Satoru begins, taking a hesitant step towards Suguru. The raven-haired male only shakes his head, glancing down at the ball in his hand before he hesitantly opens his jaw. He wonders if maybe it wouldn't taste like a wet rag, but he knows that it will. All curses do.  

< … > 

"Hey, there you are," Shoko says with a smile, shifting her cigarette from one side of her mouth to the other as she walks to Suguru's side, hoisting herself up to sit on the windowsill in front of him. He turns to her, returning her softened smile with one of his own.  

"Sorry, was I keeping you waiting?"  

Shoko shakes her head, pinching her cigarette between her fingers and blowing out a small cloud of smoke. She turns her head to glance out of the window, squinting at the sunlight that filters in through the glass panes. "No, I figured you wouldn’t be keen on hanging out with everyone just yet." 

Suguru hums, taking the cigarette that Shoko offers him, its end still burning with that orange hue that he had always found beautiful. He takes it between his lips, inhaling and ignoring the burn that the smoke in his lungs gives off.  

"Just don't shut us out for good, yeah?" Shoko glances at Suguru, eyebrows raising. He chuckles at her, smoke pouring from his parted lips as he returns the cigarette to her fingers. "She was just as important to us as she was to you." 

Suguru sighs, through his nose, turning his head to glance out of the window. On one of the branches of a nearby tree, a crow rests comfortably, its head tilted to absorb the evening sun, soaking it in. It shakes off its feathers, then turning to look through the window, eyes locking with those of Suguru's.  

He stares back at it, blinking once before he returns to reality, half-listening to the story that Shoko had been telling him.  

"Listen to me for a minute," Shoko says, reaching a hand out and comfortingly squeezing Suguru's knee. He gazes quietly at her, wondering what it is that she wanted to say. "(Y/N) meant a lot to all of us. But you did the right thing in exorcising her. Who knows what she would've done if we just let her walk around freely?" 

"Was it my fault that she turned out the way that she did?" 

Shoko shakes her head quickly, throwing her cigarette down onto the floor and turning her foot to extinguish it with her toe. Her lips turn upward in another soft smile, this one reassuring.  

"If anything, it was the textbook's fault that she turned out the way that she did," Shoko says, her voice a mixture of serious and teasing.  

She notices the way that Suguru's expression doesn't change. His eyebrows are still pinched together in a way that displays his guilt – his regret over not being able to help you. His eyes are hollow, sullen. His irises speak a thousand words even though his lips utter nothing.  

She notices the way that his hands subconsciously clench into white-knuckled fists at the mere mention of your name. He had cared so much about you, in his eyes you could do no wrong. But to then have you become what you had...she couldn't imagine the pain that Suguru felt in his chest when she whispered your name.  

"Geto," she says, smiling as his head snaps to force his gaze on her, "it was never your fault that (Y/N) became what she did." 

The hand that rests on his knee pats it once, twice, three times. Just enough to comfort Suguru enough for him to momentarily forget about the guilt he felt over absorbing you.  

"We can remember her for what she was before...everything. There's nothing wrong with that." 

Suguru nods, smiling at the memory of your warmth and joy. How pure it was, how it radiated off of you as if you were the embodiment of the sun. In his memory, you weren't a bloodthirsty curse... 

...you were always going to be (Y/N). 

[nataliesscatorccio]

Dead cabin guy and his technicolor dreamcoat have haunted me since the wardrobe reveal in season two, and today im going to make it everyone's problem.

Travis wears the coat first. He and Natalie take the blessing and go out to look for Javi. Travis hallucinates (prophesies?) that Javi is dead and buried beneath the snow, but Natalie shows him it's only a fox. Travis finds the strange, mossy tree stump. The next day Travis has strong feelings about which direction is best to search for Javi in, and we don't see more of him until Nat reveals the bloody pants. Not that weird, all things considered. New season, new wardrobe additions. Hiking on a caloric deficit with PTSD, you'll probably hallucinate. Pretty standard stuff.

Then Nat wears the coat. She takes it to lay Jackie's bones to rest at the crash site, and while she wears it she sees (hallucinates? prophesies? I'm not sure!) the white moose that they'll later lose to the lake (ergo the hunt, ergo Javi dies for real but more on that later).

We get to Old Wounds, the hunting competition, and Lottie wears the coat now. You see where I'm going with this but just to be thorough: she enters the realm of death dreams, talks with Laura Lee, almost freezes to death.

Episode five. Melissa wears the coat. Maybe that's not important! Maybe it's just to show that they all share the wardrobe, and that the side characters are as equally All In This Together as the main characters are. Or it could mean something that a peripheral character, wearing important wardrobe, framed in antlers (not unlike Travis in 2.01), has the line "maybe he did die, and that's his ghost." It's a little suspicious, and at this point starts to feel like a pattern.

Who wears it next, who wore it best!? That's right baby, it's Paul! For his dreamworld drifter, hallucination hunk Coach Ben Scott. Nicholas Urfe himself. Ben spends almost all of his time in a dream, until *drumroll please* Paul, very pointedly, takes the coat and walks out the door. "Where do you think you are, Ben?" he puts the coat on. "You had to have known you couldn't stay here forever. [...] What matters now is that you aren't welcome here anymore." Following Paul means committing to death (to dream), and until interruption that's the choice Ben makes. Because letting Paul (and the coat) go would mean committing entirely to reality.

Of course, the pièce de résistance is something I didn't even notice until I went looking for it. The first dozen times I watched, I thought that after Lottie's beating Shauna brought her a blanket. "Lottie's cold." But she doesn't. She brings her the coat. Lottie is laying with it when, in a fever dream, she witnesses/hallucinates/prophesies parts of the hunt.

It's there again (on the back of the chair) when she sits by the fire and speaks for the wilderness, appointing Nat their queen. Ben watches, having woken from the dream himself, as they all bow to Natalie and leave reality behind for good.

Of course, there are a lot of times when characters hallucinate strange things in the cabin while not wearing the coat, because they're all starving to death and traumatized. Mari. Shauna. Akilah. But in addition to that, it seems like a pattern worth noting that in each instance where a character wears the technicolor coat, the line between the real and the imagined seems to blur with more ease. Does dead cabin guy's technicolor dreamcoat help the Yellowjackets connect to the dream realm?

I'll be brief here with the biblical parallel: blah blah Joseph is the favorite son (you were always its favorite), his father gives him a technicolor coat (they're nothing special, they don't change color in the cold or anything). blah blah Joseph starts having prophetic dreams etc etc his jealous brothers throw Joseph down a pit (the wilderness chose) and bring his bloodstained coat back as false proof of his death (hanging on a branch. a couple miles back). You get my drift.

Does it mean anything? Who knows. But in a series where wardrobe is such an integral part of the storytelling, it felt worth paying attention to.

[tending-the-hearth]

a (not entirely) comprehensive list of what i loved about the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie

(spoilers below)

i already gushed about it but the ENTIRE opening scene being shot for shot what happens in the first few pages of the book... like holy shit i was blown away

snow making the remark about the tessarae buttons reminding him of the maid's bathroom???? again directly from the book???

lucy gray's introduction, and her song!!!!

again this movie was... SO ridiculously faithful to the book it almost made me cry

tigris and snow's relationship was so beautifully portrayed, and knowing how they each end up makes it even more heartbreaking

sejanus always and forever my favorite character <3

the fact that they included arachne's death and kept it almost entirely identical to her book death?? and i'd argue that her death in the movie is more gruesome

the entire scene with reaper gathering up the bodies. it was my favorite scene in the book, and it's one of my favorite scenes in the movie. it's such a heartbreaking but powerful moment, like when peeta paints rue or when katniss gave rue a burial

the snake scene holy SHIT all the deaths destroyed me

but lucy gray singing??? and the snakes gathering around her like a dress??? and her voice just getting stronger and more steady as she realizes she won't die???

i might be wrong but i'm PRETTY sure that the first time we see lucy gray after the hunger games when she's singing in district 12 she's wearing mockingbird and jabberjay feathers in her hair!!!

and her snake bracelet that she wears!!

her smile when she saw snow in the crowd... if i didn't read the book i'd 100% be rooting for them

hearing lucy gray singing "hanging tree" was so haunting. i've seen people point out the difference in meaning in lucy vs. katniss' versions, and i'm definitely going to make a whole post abt lucy gray singing the song

omg the way people in my theater gasped SO loudly when lucy called the root "katniss"

while obviously not a good thing in context of the story, the way we could see snow slowly devolving and becoming more and more manipulative towards sejanus and lucy gray... absolutely terrifying storytelling

lucy's realization of what snow's done, and the way she holds herself together JUST enough to run away from him

the mockingjays and jabberjays coming together to sing "hanging tree"

tigris saying "you look just like your father" to snow at the end of the movie and us knowing that she also means the look of hatred in his eyes that she told snow she hoped she'd never see

THE FUCKING END WITH SNOW SAYING THE LINE AND HEARING RUE'S WHISTLE ECHOING AND EVERYTHING EXCUSE ME