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leclerc-hs · 7 months ago

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73 Questions with Mrs. Leclerc - cl16

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you do a 73 questions interview with Vogue OR charles can't help but third wheel your interview warnings: none??? just cute fluff basically, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 2.1k author's note: I actually got a request by someone to do this and thought it was such a CUTE idea and concept. I obviously didn't do ALL 73 questions cause that would've taken forever. But thought this was a cute little piece to do. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think don't be shy !! xoxo

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THE DELICATE FOLDS of the pale pink sundress fluttered like petals in a gentle breeze, framing your figure with a soft, ethereal elegance. As the front door yielded to the push, the fabric danced around your legs, caressing the tender skin of your thighs with a whisper of touch. Your radiant smile illuminated the scene, a beacon of joy amidst the fluttering fabric and nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey!” The male voice chimed brightly, his tone cheerful as a songbird greeting the dawn, echoing through the air with an infectious energy that mirrored your own bright smile.

“Hey!” You respond with effervescent warmth, your smile stretching across your face like a sunbeam breaking through clouds. With a graceful gesture, you swing the door open wider, revealing the inviting warmth of your home’s foyer. The soft light spills in, casting a golden glow over the polished floors and elegant furnishing. The first thing to notice is the giant painting of a Ferrari Formula One car, hung high above the entry way table.

“Look who we have here! It’s Mrs. Leclerc!” A delicate blush warms your cheeks, a subtle reminder of the tender affection that tingles within you whenever you’re addressed as such. Though you and Charles have been together for many years, your marriage has infused your relationship with a fresh sense of intimacy and closeness. And despite that it’s been almost five years, the title of “wife” feels forever new and unfamiliar.

“On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“I would say 8, so I’m super excited!” With a gentle click, you shut the front door behind you, enveloping the foyer in a tranquility as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen. Along the way, you stooped to pick up a scattering of children’s toys that lay scattered like confetti on the polished wooden floors, offering a quick apology for the perceived “mess.” However, you couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the orchestrated chaos around you. While the house was meticulously maintained by the cleaning company before the video shoot, every detail was carefully curated to strike the perfect balance between lived-in warmth and elegance, ensuring a setting that felt both inviting and authentic to you and the viewers.

“Any reason for that?”

In the heart of the home lies a kitchen adorned with a stunning green cabinet motif. The cabinets, painted in a rich emerald hue, exude an air of sophistication and charm, perfectly complemented by gleaming brass hardware. Sunlight filters through the vast array of windows, casting a warm glow over the polished marble countertops.

“You mean other than the fact that the kids go back to school soon?” You and the interviewer let out a soft laugh as you made your way behind the kitchen island, opening the fridge in a smooth motion to pull out a water bottle. “Want one?”

“No, but thanks though!” His voice is light-hearted.

As the fridge door remains open, a tantalizing glimpse is offered to the audience of its well-stocked interior. A colorful array of fresh produce fills the shelves, showing an abundance of vibrant fruits and crisp vegetables. Among the healthy offerings, assortment of juice boxes catches the eye, adding a playful touch to the wholesome scene.

“That’s a lot of juice boxes you have in there.” He makes a comment, it’s not a question, but you take it as one.

“Two kids and a husband,” You start, your tone light and casual before lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper for the camera, “who practically is also a kid, results in a lot of juice boxes.” With a playful wink directed at the lens, you punctuate the statement, adding a touch of humor to the scene. Setting the water bottle down on the expansive kitchen counter, you resume your easy demeanor, effortlessly blending candor and charm for your audience.

“Hey!” Your head shoots over, the camera seamlessly following your gaze to where Charles, your husband,sits on the floor of the living room, two of your kids, aged two and three, beside him with an abundance of toys strewn about. “I heard that!” Charles retorts with mock offense, a playful grin lighting up his face as he joins in the banter.

The living room exudes a chic sophistication with a distinct Formula One flair. Charcoal-gray walls provide a sleek backdrop, accentuating the mounted flat-screen television. A striking statement piece dominates one corner—a display of artwork showcasing all of the racetracks Charles has conquered – infusing the room with a sense of triumph and energy. A plush white sofa, adorned with an array of vibrant red pillows, invites relaxation and style. Across the room, a sizable shelf proudly showcases a collection of racing helmets, some belonging to Charles and others gathered over time, adding a personal touch to the space. Below the television, was a long console table that was adorned in various plants and photos of your family. You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced at them.

With a casual wave of your hand, you dismiss Charles’s playful interruption, maintaining your position at the kitchen island as the camera refocuses on you. The gesture carries an air of affectionate familiarity, a gentle reminder of the dynamic energy that permeates your bustling household.

“If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?”

“Definitely Austin Butler.” You answer almost immediately, no hesitance in your voice.

“Hey!” Charles’s playful yelp echoes through the room once more, accompanied by the joyful laughter of your children. One nestled in his lap, the other engrossed in a picture book, their presence adding warmth and vitality to the room. You share a knowing smile with Charles, the affectionate banter a familiar melody to your family life.

The laughter of the interviewer joins the playful exchange. The camera effortlessly captures the dynamic interaction between all of you with ease.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Restez en dehors de ça.” Stay out of this!

“Arrête de faire semblant de vouloir faire l’amour avec quelqu’un d’autre que moi!” Stop pretending you want to make love with anybody but me!

With a mischievous gleam in your eye, you turn back to the camera, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I change my answer?” You inquire, injecting a hint of playful anticipation into your tone.

“Sure,” the interviewer replies.

“You’re supposed to say no,” You quip with a chuckle.

“Oh, um no?”

With a playful pout, you glance over at Charles who is already staring at the interaction. A smile adorned on his face like he is in complete awe of you, regardless of what you are saying. “Sorry honey!” You wave your hand around. “Answers are final!”

Leaving the kitchen behind, you make your way towards the backyard, where the promise of relaxation and leisure awaits. Stepping through the door, you’re greeted by the sight of a large pool shimmering under the sunlight, its crystal-clear waters beckoning for a refreshing dip. Surrounding the pool, lounge chairs are strategically place, some on the pool’s ledge, inciting you to bask in the sun while enjoying the cool water. A wide arrangement of pool floaties from unicorns to racecars litter the pool as well.

It’s a breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of bright blue skies stretching overhead, adorned with barely a wisp of cloud in sight. The warm rays of sun dance upon your skin. With a stylish flourish, you slip on a pair of your favorite Ray-Bans, a subtle nod to your husband’s sunglass collection.

“Vintage or new?”

You ponder for a moment as you stand in the backyard, a breeze blowing your hair behind your shoulders. “Depends, but definitely vintage.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Aisle, although Charles likes to take the aisle more.”

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“Wait, do my children count as two of the three?”

“Up to you.”

“Okay, so my two children. And my lip gloss.” You laugh, pausing for effect. “Kidding! My two kids, and my lip gloss…” You pause, jokingly. “And my husband of course.” The light-hearted remark reflects the joyful chaos of humor and love in your life. “He’s really the sweetest man. I’m so lucky.”

The glass door slides open with a whisper, and into the frame steps Charles, his presence incessant. With a carefree demeanor, he approaches you clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretched at the seams from his muscles. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks, the stubble of his own rubbing against your smooth skin, his love evident in each tender kiss.

“Désolé,” Sorry. He apologizes before pecking another kiss to your cheek. “Tellement ambrassable.” Just so kissable. He places one more on your cheek, your face bright red from the camera’s catching all of this.

“Looks like he can’t be far from you for very long.”

Charles looks at the camera, a glint in his eye with a large smile, like he was the happiest man on earth, and nothing could dampen his spirits. Especially with you nearby. “Est-ce que tu la vois?” Do you see her?

The interviewer, unaware of Charles’s words, simply nods in response behind the camera lens, acknowledging the affection in his tone. Later translations will reveal the depth of Charles’s words no doubt. Elle est tellement belle. Bien sûr, je ne peux pas rester loin longtemps.” She’s so beautiful. Of course, I can’t stay far long.

Your face is bright red as Charles remains at your side.

“Where are the kids?”

“Put them down for a nap!” Charles answers, his arm slung over your shoulder as he leans on you comfortably.

As the interviewer continues the questionnaire, Charles can’t resist interjecting with playful remarks and comments on almost every question. His spontaneous interruptions add an element of humor and spontaneity to the video, turning what could have been a standard interview into an entertaining and engaging exchange.

“How do you define beauty?” “My wife.” “Charles, the questions are for me!”

"What do you love most about your body?" "That's an easy one...I think her--" Charles begins, but you swat his chest and cut him off. "I love my arms. Not because they're that nice but they give me the ability to hold my children." Charles clicks his tongue, hating that you even implied something about yourself as 'not that nice'.

"Least favorite color?" "Red." Charles lets out a large gasp with a string of phrases in French, clearly hurt by your response. "It's a joke, mon amour!" "How did you know you were in love?" You look at Charles then, his eyes already on you, a soft smile pulling on both of your lips. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with him. Probably when I realized I would rather be awake in the middle of the night, since he was traveling so much, just to talk to him for even a few minutes, instead of going to sleep." Charles plays with the ends of your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers as he chimes in. "We've known each other for so long. But, when I first met her, it was like meeting someone I've known my entire life. There was no awkward silences between us. We just clicked."

“Diamonds or pearls?” “Pearls.” “Mon chou, don’t lie.” “I’m not!” “The diamond on your finger says otherwise!”

“If you made a documentary, what would it be about?” “Charles’ brain. I seriously question what goes on in there sometimes.” “Hey! It’s only you…” You raise your eyebrows at him, like he’s a liar. “And racing.” “Definitely racing.”

“If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Charles smirks deeply, like he knows something the world doesn’t, the interviewer picks up on it. “Wait, you have a tattoo? Can we see it?”

“No! It’s for me only.”

You playfully swat at Charles’ chest, a playful blush coloring your cheeks as you both wander throughout the house, showcasing its beautiful décor. Despite your embarrassment at Charles’ antics, you can’t help but be thankful for him easing your nerves. You weren’t one for the public eye, normally. So, when you agreed to this interview it came out as quite a surprise.

“Okay final question of the day.”

You both stand by the front door, the interviewer on the front step outside of the home.

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Definitely ki—” You don’t get to finish your answer as Charles’ fingers grasp onto your neck, his fingers sprawled along your jawline as well, and tugs your face into his. He shuts the door as soon as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It’s a few seconds before you push him off you. “You’re unbelievable!”

A giant smile spreads across his face as he looks down at you. “Only for you, mon chou!”

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pseudowho · 11 months ago

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Raising You

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

When the reader is de-aged by an unusual Curse, Nanami Kento is forced to raise her, and grieve the absence of his fiancée at the same time.

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The girls (twins, affectionately nicknamed the 'Nanaminis' by Satoru) played with a painted wooden truck and other cars around your feet, hampering the already limited view you had with your bump, big and still growing. Trying to cook dinner, you were flustered with sweaty strands of hair in your eyes, overstimulated by the noise from the cars, the casual bickering of the girls, your aching back, the steam from dinner, and--

"Girls, I'm home!"

You were nearly taken out by two frantic little girls tangling through your legs to run to the front door-- "Daddy! I've got two cars but she's got three and that's not fair" -- and you smiled to hear Kento, low and reassuring, tackling toy diplomacy with your daughters.

Kento walked into the kitchen and living room, loosening his tie, still having his ears talked off by his daughters. He stepped over cars, before scooting them to the side so you wouldn't slip, and hugged you warmly from behind, peppering loving kisses along your sweaty cheeks and neck.

"Daddy, rough play!" One of your daughters cried, and the other shouted her approval, both descending on Kento with screams and tiny punches. Kento dropped to one knee, dramatically groaning, feigning a fatal wound and pretending, with his head stooped, to have been beaten.

Your daughters paused their assault, and approached Kento slowly, "...daddy?" Kento stood and roared, taking one daughter under each arm and they squeaked with terror and delight, being tossed onto the sofa. Kento rolled over the back of the sofa to them, nobly defending himself in battle.

Pausing for breath while you watched affectionately, Kento hung one daughter behind his shoulders by the ankles, jumping lightly up and down while she squealed, and the other daughter held onto his ankle, yelling.

"They're just like you at this age, you know," Kento pondered, pretending to choke slam a child onto the sofa as she laughed, completely uninjured and thrilled. You wrinkled your nose into your tea.

"You make it sound so creepy when you say it like that...cradle snatcher."

Kento scoffed at you, gravely offended, continuing to defend himself against his daughters, "Behave. You know it wasn't like that."

You smirked, memories flooding back to you.

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Seven years previously...

"So what you're saying is...she went on a practice mission with Inumaki and Gojo, and now-- she's--" Nanami Kento gaped, reeling.

"...a child, yes." Shoko took a long drag of her cigarette. Behind her, in the treatment room, came the happy squeals of children playing. Kento delicately reached towards Shoko, clearing his throat. Quietly seething, and without breaking eye contact with her, he squeezed the embers at the tip of her cigarette with his thumb and forefinger, snuffing it.

"There are children around, Shoko," he hissed, darkly sarcastic. Shoko swallowed, but smiled fondly at Kento.

"It seems the Curse preferred to hunt children," Shoko purred, "obviously easier to catch, I suppose. Gojo dispatched it, but not before it had already de-aged those two in there." Shoko flipped through a pair of charts, "They're both in good health. I imagine this will wear off within a couple of days. But in the meantime...congratulations. You have to be a daddy until then."

Kento lifted the screen covering the small window in the door to the treatment room. There you were, roughly five years old, bouncing a blown-up rubber medical glove between yourself, Inumaki, and an amused-looking Satoru. Kento was filled with dread; what if you didn't come back? What if his fiancée was...gone?

Satoru beckoned Kento in. Taking a deep breath, Kento stepped into the room. You and Inumaki stopped in your tracks, round-eyed and stunned as this man, enormous and cross-looking, stepped over the threshold. You and Inumaki both shuffled closer to Satoru, who laughingly reassured the children.

"Now kids, I know Nanamin looks scary, but he's not. At all. I promise," Satoru urged, mouthing furiously at Kento; smile, damn you! Kento caught himself, dulling his own Cursed-energy, and kneeling down to the floor. He smiled at you, crinkled eyes warm and honeyed. You gave him a nervous smile back.

"We should introduce ourselves," Kento spoke softly, "I'm Nanami Kento, and I'm your-- I'm..." Kento swallowed thickly, trying not to cry, "I'm your mum and dad's friend. They've had to go away for a few days, and asked me to look after you." You stared at Kento, uncertain, tearing up.

"So, I was wondering," continued Kento, "could you help me do my shopping today? We need to make a list. You see, I don't know what treats you like, and I'm not sure what to make for dinn--"

"Eggs," you chirped, "I like eggs. Can we have eggs with dinner?" Kento smiled, heart melting, delighted by you but missing you desperately at the same time.

"Eggs. We can do eggs. And maybe we can bake something tasty to eat after?" You were warming to Kento now, your eyes sparkling, becoming more animated. You were dressed in just an adult t-shirt, all that Satoru could find in his locker, and Kento realised that he suddenly needed...everything. He had nothing child friendly in his house.

"Nanamin?" You asked him, tugging on the front of his shirt, "I've got an important question." Kento raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

You continued, "When we do baking, can I lick the bowl?"

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The old women in the supermarket were full of delighted whispers for this tall, handsome man doing the shopping with his cute daughter. Kento overheard them all, trying not to blush, as you chattered to him, stood in the trolley. Nobara had taken her mission seriously, and you were now very much appropriately dressed, albeit in very designer clothes, Nobara having taken full advantage of Kento's generous card limit.

You had, in your hand, a pen and some paper, and had written a shaky-lettered shopping list. You pointed down aisles, directing Kento.

"Eggs!" You commanded, a little dictator, "Flour! Sugar! Chocolate! Sweets!"

"Those last two definitely aren't on the list, young lady, nice try."

You huffed, dramatic and pouting, giving Kento the side-eye. Kento raised his eyebrows at you, gently chastising. Continuing round the shop, Kento had left you in charge of the barcode reader. Twice, he had needed to wrestle it off you and put items back on the shelves-- adult incontinence pads, a large bottle of bleach-- and once, he had had to stop you from trying to scan an old man, hastily apologising to the man and putting you back in the trolley.

He had allowed you to push the trolley, full of regret as he knelt, rebuilding a mountain of cans of beans-- "I'm sorry Nanamin, it was an accident, I'm sorry," you had sniffled, wiping your snotty nose on your sleeve before Kento could get to you with a handkerchief. The shop assistant supervised Kento's efforts with a tapping foot.

You had disappeared for five minutes, and Kento couldn't find you, panicking so badly for a moment that he considered knocking all of the shelves over to make it easier to spot you. Kento gave a description of you to several women, charmed by this flustered father, when you reappeared with a toy; "Nanamin, can I have this?" and Kento knelt, one hand on his chest and the other on your shoulder as his panic fizzled away.

At the tills, you packed the bags haphazardly as Kento hurriedly tried to correct the bags and be polite to the cashier and pay for the shopping and keep you from disappearing again and--

Back in the car with a sigh, Kento sat, head hitting the head rest hard, flicks of sweaty hair looping forwards over his brow. Frazzled, he let out a slow breath, until your little voice piped up in the back.

"Nanamin. You didn't do my seatbelt. The police will get you in trouble."

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"So you tap the egg here-- not there-- here-- GENTLY, gently...ahhh." Kento slapped a dishcloth to his cabinet doors as egg dripped sadly down them. You looked to him for answers, hands covered in crushed shell and raw egg. Lifting you to the sink under one arm, he washed your hands off under the tap. Putting you down, he washed his hands.

"-- then the eggy goes in there--"

"Yes, the eggy goes-- NOT THE SHELL--"

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"Make sure you eat the broccoli too."

"No. Don't like it."

"It's tasty. And it's good for you. Eat up."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

Kento sighed, a deep, weary sigh. Rubbing his fingers against his temples and counting to ten, he looked back to you with a smile.

"I'll give you some chocolate if you eat it."

Kento had never seen broccoli disappear so quickly.

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"IT'S IN MY EYES, IT'S IN MY EYES--"

"Calm down, it's not in your eyes, I'm washing it out--" Kento tried to hold you, naked and wet and thoroughly uncontrollable, still, as he poured water over your head. You stamped, spitting water away dramatically, and Kento considered he may as well have just got in the bath with you, his shirt now drenched.

"Come on," Kento huffed, trying to sound upbeat but feeling absolutely exhausted, "let's get you out and brush your teeth--"

"--I don't want to brush my teeth--"

"Well you've got to brush your teeth--"

You ran, streaking away out of the bathroom as Kento stumbled, reaching for you and missing, then chasing you down with a towel and a toothbrush.

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You padded to Kento, damp and pyjama'd as he stripped his wet clothes off and got dressed into his own pyjamas. Your teeth now brushed, and your hair neat and tidy, you looked mollified, a new book under your arm.

"Can you read?" You asked Kento suspiciously.

"I-- of course I can read."

"Good," you stated, chin out, "we can do my bedtime story then."

You plodded away to the spare room, while Kento placed both hands over his face and screamed into the void for a few moments.

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"Was the bear hungry? Or did he just want to be friends?"

Kento pondered, closing the book thoughtfully, "I think...he just wanted to be friends. He was lonely in his cave."

"Or hungry."

"Or hungry," Kento agreed, "but if he were that hungry, he'd have run faster, don't you think?" He asked, tickling under your chin as you squirmed and kicked, giggling.

You rolled over to face Kento, your little hand on his cheek. He rolled over to face you, taking in your little nose, round cheeks...all you, but so far away from the you that he was in love with, and so unable to share that burden with you, that he felt his nose sting with tears again.

"Nanamin?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

Ah, "I do. We're going to get married soon."

"Ooooh!" You squeaked, your hands coming up to cup your own cheeks, before your little face dropped. Kento peered at you, one eye open.

"But where is she?"

"She's...away working at the minute. But she'll be home soon. I hope."

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The next morning, the sunlight glinted in past the curtains, the room warm and comfortable. Kento slept the sleep of an exhausted parent, never quite enough to catch up. You were draped uncomfortably over him, head in his armpit and legs stretched out across his tummy.

Kento woke, a warm feeling spreading over him as he reached out a sleepy hand, patting you on the head. This was a really warm feeling, a bit wet--

"Nanamin. I've had an accident."

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The days had ticked by, and you seemed a little bigger every day, growing up at an accelerated rate. Kento settled into this bizarre, unwilling parenthood, wondering where this left you as a couple once this was all over. Fear twisted like thorns in the pit of his stomach, wondering if the romantic love you'd shared would be sullied by this paternal love he had been forced to convert to.

Kento met often with Satoru, now inadvertently raising a tiny Inumaki, talking-shop together as unlikely new fathers. Aside from Satoru having to occasionally put out fires caused by Inumaki's Cursed-speech, the playdates were soft, sweet even; babyccinos-- "marshmallows please, Nanamin!"-- in little cafés, pushing-- "higher, Nanamin, higher!" -- on swings, teaching-- "like this? Or this?"-- you both how to control your Cursed-techniques.

It was only at night, when you were asleep, and Kento was decompressing from the eternal labour of mealtimes, laundry, and emotional regulation, that Kento allowed himself to cry. Your little voice called out in the dark. Kento wiped his eyes, fixing a reassuring smile on his face, as he went to resettle you-- "It's alright, you're safe. I'm here."

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The days turned to weeks. The curse was wearing off, but slowly. By Shoko's estimation, you were about thirteen years old now. You had been raised by the motley crew of Jujutsu High-- being taken to theme parks by Yuuji and Nobara, running through the woods with Maki, helping Shoko organise her medical equipment-- around Kento's work days. He went to work now with new trepidation, having you to consider if he was injured, or killed, and overtime was a thing of the past. Kento's tie only ever came off when he walked through the door to your warm welcome.

Shoko kept thrice-weekly checks on your growth and progression, reassuring Kento constantly that you were on your way back to yourself. You both did and didn't retain memories of the previous days and weeks. Some days you treated Kento as if you didn't even know him, a stranger to you, wondering where your parents were. Some days, you seemed to recall events from days (years?) previously where Kento had cooked something special for dinner, or bought you a new outfit. Some days, you seemed haunted by memories that were yours, but not, too big for a child of your age to handle-- losing friends in battle, fighting Curses and Curse-users, failing tests and exams-- and Kento reassured you through your screams and cries in the night.

Raising you had been a confusing, tender whirlwind. Now that you approached your teens, you would see fit to argue with Kento over the barest of insults or inconveniences, pushing boundaries and being hurtful without true intent or realisation of its effects. Kento stayed outwardly calm throughout, an unshakeable presence in the turmoil of your bizarre second childhood.

When Satoru had suggested you come to live in the Jujutsu High dorms and attend classes, as you would have done at this age the first time, Kento found himself bitterly protective.

"No missions, Gojo," he threatened to Satoru one day on a park bench, you and Inumaki swinging and chatting idly in the play area that you both suddenly seemed much too big for.

Uncharacteristically serious, Satoru agreed immediately, "I wouldn't do that to her, Kento, you know that. The way I see it, these two," he gestured to you both, sipping his coffee, "are...recovering from injuries, I guess. But Inumaki's nearly caught up to where he should be...she's got a bit further to go. Shoko can watch her more at Jujutsu High. She can have peers. And maybe you need a bit more separation as she gets closer to your version of her."

And so, you went to Jujutsu High. Kento dropped you off like a concerned father, carrying your suitcases to your room, helping you unpack and put up shelves. His heart clenched with fear, waving you off, and you acted as if it was nothing, making it so much worse for him. He loitered by your room, in case you called him back...but you didn't.

At home again, Kento folded and packed away little clothes, smoothing them over with his big warm hands, musing how you really had only been tiny, what felt like yesterday. He gave you some distance, but gave Shoko none, her phone pinging at all hours, asking for updates, asking her to check on you.

Within a few days, Inumaki fell asleep. When he didn't wake after 24 hours, he was carried to the treatment room. Kento hung around the corridors of Jujutsu High when he heard, hungry for news of Inumaki's condition, deeply concerned about how you would be at the same stage. Shoko was cool and collected, certain that Inumaki would wake up his own self again. Kento worried he wouldn't wake up at all.

Shoko, as always, was right. Inumaki woke as if from a long dream, after two days. Kento visited him, bringing gifts of manga and sweets, while Inumaki recounted his odd half-memories of having been raised by Satoru, alongside his true memories of his first childhood.

Fighting the urge to go and see you, knowing that you were traversing your teenage years again in a way that was too intense for him to offer help with, Kento swallowed down his guilt, his longing to see you, and left. He passed your room reluctantly, his gut wrenching as if caught on your door handle, and remaining there, stretching, pulling, as he walked away from it.

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Another week passed. Shoko was sure your long sleep was close. She recounted tales of you to Kento, seeming excited that her old friend was nearly back to the her that Shoko knew. Kento's voice seemed tight and reluctant as Shoko suggested he come and see you. He declined, feeling awkward about seeing you in almost the form that he knew you.

Passing through the ground of Jujutsu High, ready to drop off a report to Yaga, Kento rounded a corner and bumped into a young woman, reaching out to grab her wrist before she fell to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorr-- Nanamin!" Kento stuttered, flustered, resisting pulling an eighteen year old you into his arms. Before he could step back, you threw yourself into his arms with a happy squeak, hanging on around his neck, flush against him and clinging for dear life.

"Oh Nanamin, it's been so long," you breathed, flushed and excited. You gripped his hand, somewhere between a little girl and the you he was still madly in love with, "come on, let's go and get coffee! My treat." You pulled Kento's hand, bright eyes full of delight.

"As if I'd let you pay," Kento grumbled, straightening his suit and tie with one strict hand, his other still clasped by you. Reluctantly, trying not to blush, Kento took you for coffee. He was done-for within thirty minutes, reminded of exactly why he had fallen in love with you in the first place. He restrained himself easily, remaining kind and fatherly, but...distant, in a way you found confusing.

You looked at him through new eyes, wondering how you had ever seen him as a father-figure as a child, lost in thought as to how he still looked so young. His huge, warm hands, the way he was built, so much of a man beneath the confines of his suit, and you felt something stir in you that you never had before, an alluring obsession, a delicious agony of needing to know him differently. Kento's stoic distance was magnetic.

When he drove you back to Jujutsu High, you were full of blushes, unable to take your eyes off his hands smoothly turning the wheel, the sharp cut of his nose and jaw in profile, the stretch of his tan trousers against his thick thighs.

Kento had bricked a stone wall around his affections rapidly. You remained, to him, a little girl under his guardianship. You were the girl he had fallen in love with, but not the woman he was in love with now. His mathematical mind found separating the two of you easy. Grown men did not fall in love with little girls.

As he walked you back to your room, he asked you if there was anything you needed. He pulled you in for a gentle squeeze. He kissed you on the forehead. He bid you to call him for anything. He waited until you were safely home before he left. You were besotted. Completely smitten.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Kento sat in the staff room, legs crossed, reading his newspaper. The door clicked open, and he heard a satisfied "ah!" as you slipped in, locking the door behind you.

Kento looked over his glasses at you, eyebrows raised in questioning. You smiled at him, demure, curious, before idling over to him. As you sat beside him, Kento felt a strike of dread through him like ice, and he tensed, frowning at you.

You made light conversation with Kento, thigh to thigh on the sofa, your heart fluttering with anticipation. You spoke about the news, his insight so mature and informed, and you hung onto every word, desperate to be closer and you leaned against him, pretending to read the newspaper with him. He remained sincere, measured, neither pushing you away nor pulling you closer.

Kento turned to you, your face centimetres from his now, and you leaned in eagerly, his lips brushing against yours as your fingers grazed his jaw--

"No." Kento grabbed your hand, turning from you and pushing you gently away by the shoulders.

You froze, stunned. Cold embarrassment crept through you as if you'd been kicked in the stomach by Kento's immediate, categorical rejection. Kento folded his newspaper, standing and putting distance between the two of you. His back was to you, one hand clasped over his face and mouth as he sighed. Was he angry? Disappointed? Disgusted? You couldn't tell.

Hot tears of rage and mortification rushed down your cheeks, your vision blurry. Your hands twisted together in your lap. You heard Kento clear his throat lightly, and looked up to see him knelt in front of you, his face smooth and unreadable. He gently pressed a neatly folded handkerchief into your hand, and clasped his hand firmly around yours to close it.

"I'm sorry you feel this way about me, and I'm flattered. But I don't feel this way about you, and you shouldn't trust any man my age who pursues a girl your age."

Anger coursed through you as you stared furiously at him, still crying; "I'm not a girl," you snapped, standing and tossing his handkerchief to his feet. Kento sighed, collecting his handkerchief, rising from the floor beside you.

"I thought we had something-- I thought we were--" you stammered, your throat thick and constricted with humiliation. Kento nodded, understanding.

"You are special to me, and always will be," he assured you, the unspoken words remaining apparent as he shattered the pretences of any romance between you. You seethed with embarrassment.

"Like this fiancée of yours?" You shot, cruelly, with intention to wound, "You told me about her years ago. Where's she, all of a sudden? Did you shove her away, too?"

Kento's stern face gazed down at you, impassive, unreadable, and he spoke to you with measured coolness, "I appreciate you're upset. I don't believe my fiancée has any further place in this discussio--"

"Well I doubt she's coming back!" You spat, furious tears still threatening to overspill, "And I'm not interested in you either. Stay away from me."

You rushed from the room without looking back. The door slammed, a sudden waft of air ruffling the pages of Kento's newspaper. Speechless and devastated by how he had failed you, Kento sank onto the sofa, his elbows on his knees and his fingers sinking into his neat hair.

Kento sat like this until the sun went down, oranges and reds glowing like embers against his suit as the day died away.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento threw himself into work immediately. Working overtime for any distraction, his days were long, and whiskey soothed him to sleep as it had before he had fallen in love with you. Another week passed, a blur of Curses and liquor. He sprayed your perfume onto your pillow. He had kept your pyjamas, unwashed, sleeping with his nose in them and terrified as the smell of you slowly faded away. He still cooked for two, just in case you were to come home, fearing you never would.

It was late, when Kento received the phone call. He was already three large drinks deep.

"Hello?" His voice blurred with exhaustion and drink.

"Nanami. She's...asleep. Has been for nearly two days now. Why haven't you answered your phone?" Shoko chastised. Kento swirled the glass in his hand, the smooth amber roiling in the glass like a little whirlpool. Kento couldn't answer, his throat constricting with unspoken fear- because what if she never wakes up? What if she does wake up, and doesn't know me? What if she does wake up, and doesn't love me?

Kento swallowed thickly, and opened his mouth to talk, words failing him. He heard Shoko sigh.

"Just...come. And bring her some clothes."

A click and a dial tone as Shoko hung up. Kento's hand shook as he laid down his glass, and dialled for a taxi.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Inumaki is exactly as he was before this Curse," Shoko pressed, walking with Kento to the treatment room, "and she will be too. I mean it." Kento looked tired, dishevelled, grieving. His tie hung loose, his shirt partly unbuttoned, smelling of whiskey and unwashed from his day's work. Shoko walked him into the treatment room, and pressed him down by the shoulders into the chair beside your bed.

Kento laid eyes on you, drinking you in, hope trickling into him as he studied you, looking exactly like you had when you had left for work that day, just a month ago but feeling like so much longer. With a trembling hand he reached out for yours, examining your hand in his own. He stayed this way until you woke up.

"...Kento?" You woke from your strange, long dream to your fiancé, bedraggled and teary-eyed, and smelling like a dirty bar, looking at you like you were a gift made just for him. Kento's shoulders heaved with sobs, the dam breaking as he gripped your hand in his and pressed it to his eyes.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You curled on the sofa with Kento, warm and familiar, as he finished recounting the events of the previous month. Stroking his hair the whole time, with his head in your lap, you felt like this was therapeutic for him, and you leaned down to kiss his forehead. His eyes drifted closed, reaching a hand up to keep your lips against his forehead for a little longer.

Pulling himself up, Kento grunted as he felt something hard press into his back. Reaching past the sofa cushions, he pulled out a painted wooden truck. You laughed, embarrassed and charmed.

"Did you actually keep everything?" You asked, touched. Kento hummed to himself, rolling the truck's wheels, his trauma still bearing faintly whimsical overtones.

"I did. I just...couldn't bring myself to get rid of them."

"Well, that's good. It will probably come in handy, one day."

"Really? Why--...oh. Oh," Kento bent over you, blushing and delighted, leaning into your love and promises for the future that he had missed so much.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento sat up, swinging his legs deftly out of his daughters' bed, and left the room, pulling the door closed to a pair of soft snores. He made his way to the living room, passing a dresser covered in photo frames. His eyes paused on an image of one sunny day seven years ago, a smile crinkling his eyes as he passed by on his way to you.

He hadn't yet explained to his daughters, who this other girl was who looked just like them, feeding the ducks with their daddy, one fine summer's day.

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#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujustu kaisen #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x reader #jjk fluff #satoru gojo #jjk inumaki #inumaki toge #jujutsu kaisen inumaki #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #jjk angst #nanami kento angst #pseudowho

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unformula1 · 14 days ago

Text

promises - 1 (ln4)

part 2 || you and lando used to be best friends, but you two drifted apart. (1464 words) a/n: im back ! should i make a part 2?? || masterlist

You and Lando used to be friends. Best friends, one might say. The two of you were inseparable. Every Friday night, without fail, both of you would meet up at the playground near the central district of your hometown. The playground would usually be empty, with most children staying in with their parents. This gave you and Lando the whole playground, all to yourselves.

It was perfect to make the purest memories. Just two kids, pure innocence and naivety, and a friendship which felt like forever. You’d talk about which toy cars were the better ones, he’d always say the orange ones. You two would laugh about the silliest things, and promise each other to be friends forever.

You two grew up together, went through the teenage years with each other, there in the highs and lows. Every Friday night became every night. You two would see each other daily, at the same playground. As both of you matured, so did your conversations, you two started talking about your love lives, your future.

Both of you sat on the ground, leaning against the wooden base of the slide which both of you used to ride together.

~~~

“I mean… It seems pretty cool.” You tell him.

“It is.” Lando confirms, “I’ve been doing it since I was a small kid, just zooming around.”

You chuckle as Lando mimics driving a go-kart.

“You see yourself driving them forever?” You ask, shifting closer to him.

“Hell yeah.” He replies confidently, not a single ounce of doubt in his voice.

“Alright then.” You smile, “Go for it.”

“You’ll be there right?” He asks you.

“I will. You’ll remember me right?”

“Yes.”

~~~

Both of you made promises, whether they were the shallowest things or the deepest feelings. He never left you alone, you never made fun of him for the quirky things he liked. He stood by you when the worst was brought upon you, when you cried about some stupid boy not liking you back, when you lost your only ticket to your dream university.

~~~

You sat on the floor of his room, wiping away the dried up tears on your face. You’ve never felt this vulnerable to anyone. He lays down next to you and props himself up onto his elbow, looking at you. You glance back at him as he fiddles with his hair.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me?” You ask, letting out a soft chuckle as you continue to wipe off your tears.

“Sorry.” He replies, laughing a little, “They don’t deserve you anyway.”

He sits up and shrugs.

“You could do better.” He deadpans.

Your lips curve up ever so slightly.

“Well-” You sigh, “I guess I’ll stay here forever.”

Both of you laugh again.

“So will I.”

~~~

But he didn’t. Lando Norris left the town in pursuit of greater things.

“You’re leaving?” The realisation hits you.

He sheepishly nods.

Your emotions are all jumbled up into one big mess, everything just engulfing your heart as tears start falling.

“Oh-” Lando says before hugging you tightly.

You hug him back, your tears staining his sweater.

“C’mon now… don’t get all teary on me.” Lando says, clearing stifling down sobbing sounds.

You can’t let out any words.

~~~

It finally came a few months later. You stood in the airport, face to face with Lando. You felt the overwhelming feeling of nostalgia, letting all the memories from the youngest ages of childhood flow through your head as you closed your eyes, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

He looks at you with his stupid little grin, his eyes getting watery as he purses his lips, taking in deep breaths.

You run up to him and hug him, for what might be the last time ever. It’s a tight hug, one surrounded by years of friendships and years of memories all building up. He sobs on your shoulder, jerking slightly each sob as you grip tightly to him, never wanting to let go.

But you have to. Both of you take a step back. Lando takes out a necklace for you.

“For you.” He says, “I have a matching one.”

You sob violently and take the necklace, immediately putting it around your neck and holding onto it with a deathly grip.

He reaches out for your hand. Both of you hold hands for a few seconds, he closes his eyes once again as the tears traced his cheekbone and clung onto his jaw, trickling down slowly.

“We’ll stay in contact.” He says softly in between heavy sobs as he pulls you in one last time, patting you on the back.

“We better.” You crack a joke which makes him giggle. He nods more and pats your shoulder.

The moment has to come to an end eventually, with a heavy heart he takes a step back. He looks you in the eyes one last time and you stare at his brown-blue glistening eyes which sparkled.

You’ll miss those.

You’ll miss him.

You’ll miss all of this.

As he enters the boarding gates, he looks back at you again, smiling slightly at you as he waves slightly. You look back at him, wishing you could be there with him, flying somewhere same. Something wants you to run up to him and hold on tight to him but you stay put, waving goodbye to him.

He holds up the necklace and smiles at you, you smile back at him, choking through the tears which suffocate your lungs as the sting in your throat resurfaces. You hold the necklace up to him too and for the last time, he nods at you, turning around and slowly disappearing from your view.

You stand there.

What do you do now?

What are the weekly nights reserved for now?

Will you ever see Lando again?

———

The nights felt empty and missing a piece, because they were. You missed sitting with him in the cool breeze of the evening or in the dim lights of the nearby stores, talking about things that you would never tell anyone else. You missed all of it, every single angry, sad, happy, nostalgic moment. It was hard to change your entire life, you called him and texted him every single waking minute of your life and he did so too. However, it never felt the same. Sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night just to imagine he was there with you again and your tears would involuntarily come trickling down again.

Eventually, you got used to it, like you do.

The years past much quicker than you imagined. You watched Lando grow from a young karter to Formula 1 driver. Sometimes you catch yourself watching his races and other times you see his face in the billboards across town.

You don’t know if he remembers you but both of you practically lost contact after you two stopped texting a few years back. It was rough. Both of you made each other the world, you made him your world. Absolutely nothing was going to stand in your way, but time took its path, and fate drew its sword. It was something that you could never change no matter how hard you tried. Even with empty days and sleepless nights just pretending and wishing and hoping that something would happen. It wouldn’t.

So you had come to peace with it, he was just another passing chapter in your life, meeting once and never again, ingrained in the stone of life.

You were proud of him, for making it this far. You really were. Nothing would ever make you wish anything but the best for him; after all, he was the biggest boy in your life at one point, and nothing would change that. You were incredibly happy for him, for how much effort he’d put into this, he deserved everything. You even watched him win his first race in Miami.

You shed a tear or two. The memories of everything flooding back into your head, just remembering Lando as a young kid saying to you he’d take over the world. He did. You were proud.

But you weren’t there.

Were the promises you made all empty? Just passing in the moment to be carried by the wind and never to be seen or heard ever again?

You sat on the couch watching him take the top step of the podium, holding up the trophy as the sunlight serenaded his face. The familiar sparkle of his eyes stood out to you, it was like when he left. This time his tears were happy ones.

Your tears were bittersweet.

A few hours pass and a chime from your phone gets you off your couch and reaching for your phone.

You got an Instagram DM, from landonorris.

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imtryingbuck · 7 months ago

Text

Epilogue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 1,042

Warnings: angst, heavy use of pet names. fluff. swearing.

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

A/N: The love and support throughout this series has been incredible! Thank you to each and every one of you, you’re amazing💞

Masterlist Series Masterlist

A few years after her parents passing away the family were back in the church saying their goodbyes to their uncles and aunts, one by one.

On Georgia’s eighteenth birthday Y/n gave her the metal tin containing the wooden animal toys Grace had given her when she was a child. Georgia though eighteen loved them. Loved the fact that she had something of Y/n’s when she was child.

Now that Natalia had turned eighteen Georgia handed her the metal tin, telling her the same thing Y/n had told her.

Natalia smiling at the thought of handing it down to her daughter that was still growing in her stomach, knowing one day that she’ll be passing it down to her daughter and she’ll continue the tradition.

In the years that followed Georgia had expanded the number of buildings of Grace and Bunny’s Haven, each building having a memorial plaque dedicated to her grandmother she never met, her mom and dad. And even after all the years that passed without her parents being there, people would put flowers in front of the plaque, Georgia even caught a few people saying thank you to Y/n for giving them their freedom back.

“Georgia, come on we’re going to be late” Sammy says from the doorway, looking at his sister as she gets up from her seat.

“Just give me a second, just need to put this folder away”

“New people?”

“Yeah, Billy said they’d be here next week.”

Sammy nods and takes her bag for her, holding the door open they make their way outside where a sleek black car awaits them. Opening the car door for her he mumbles under his breath about how it wouldn’t kill her to say thank you which she sticks her tongue out at him.

Throughout the car ride Georgia’s knee starts to bounce up and down, going over her speech in her head she flinches slightly when she feels Sammy take her hand in his, squeezing lightly.

“It’s going to be fine”

“I hope so”

As the car pulls up to the gate Sammy shakes Georgia’s hand to gain her attention she looks up and gasps. The turn out was bigger than they expected.

Today was the unveiling of the bronze statue of Y/n and Grace hand in hand, Georgia had found a photo of her mom and grandmother when she was cleaning out her childhood home with her brothers, she spoke with her brothers about getting a sculpture to make a statue. It had taken a few years to do it, the sculpture told them that he wanted to take his time as it was a personal project. Georgia’s eyes widened when he told her his name, told her that Y/n had taken him, his sister and dad in. Robbie.

The statue stood tall and proudly with a large cloth covering it in front of the administration building.

“Thank you to all those that came out today, it truly means the world to me and my family. Today we mark twenty years since my parents passed away, and two days ago we celebrated forty five years of Grace and Bunny’s Haven opening, and today we are here to unveil the statue dedicated to my beautiful mom and grandmother who are the whole reason why there are now twenty seven havens darted around not only America but in other countries. My mom had a dream of creating a safe place, a sanctuary for those who were in need, my brothers and I have continued to expand her dream. Our children and now grandchildren are following in our footsteps.”

Georgia pauses when a round of applause begins. “Robbie here has created the statue we are here to unveil today, he didn’t tell me until afterwards that he was here when he was a child with his sister and father, I remembered him remembered running around playing tag with him and the other children, and I remember him being the master of hide and seek” again she pauses as everyone laughs.

“Before the rain comes and ruins our day, boys come on” Jamie, Stevie and Sammy move forward to stand next to Georgia, Natalia starts to a countdown that everyone joins in with, when they get to one the proud children of Y/n and Bucky pull down the cloth, revealing the perfect bronze statue of their mom as a child and their grandmother who they had never met but heard stories about.

The statue stood tall and proudly. Georgia couldn’t take her eyes off it no matter how hard she tried. Well no one could really.

It was beautiful.

“Thank you Robbie, thank you for everyone who came out today, thank you for your donations and support it means the world to us. There are some refreshments available inside, please enjoy the day. Thank you”

After having photos taken by a local photographer who worked for the newspaper, they all head inside. People sharing stories about being there when they were children, telling them how lucky they were to have been able to come to a place where no judgements were made, lucky that someone took the chance on them and helped them.

“You’re going to catch a cold you know?” Billy says making Georgia jump.

“D-do you think she’s proud of us?”

“Of course she is, so is your dad darling” Wrapping his arms around her he pulls his wife into his side, looking up at the statue of his mother in law he smiles softly.

“They’d be proud of all of us Georgie, I just know it” Jamie speaks as he walks over with his brothers.

All five of them stand in the pouring rain arm in arm staring at the statue. None of them knowing that the figures of Y/n, Bucky, Grace are standing behind them in the same stance as them.

Jamie was right. They were proud of all of their children, proud of their accomplishments, proud to call them their children.

As Georgia, Billy, Jamie, Stevie and Sammy head back inside Y/n and Bucky take one last look of their children and smile at each other before returning back to their family who was waiting on them on the other side, hand in hand.

<Previous

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01 @gaya-is-weird-af @capsbestgirl77

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queenshelby · 12 days ago

Text

The Accident (Part Six)

Pairing: Reader & Cillian Murphy

Warning: Domestic Abuse, Religious Themes, Trafficking

Thank you @blondie-22 for this amazing idea!

Almost an hour later, Cillian pulled up to the curb of his townhouse in one of Dublin's sought-after neighborhoods. Sitting in the back of his car, with your two children, your heart pounding in sync with the rain that pattered against his windshield.

Cillian turned to Sarah, who clutched Mr. Cuddles tightly. "Do you want to come inside?" he asked politely and Sarah peered out the window, eyes wide as she took in the large home.

“Is that your house?" she asked, her voice a little shaken as she was still unsure what was going on. Even though Cillian made an effort to talk to her during the car journey, the unfamiliarity of it all left her fidgeting with her toy.

“It is,” Cillian replied, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s a safe place, and I promise you’ll be okay here.”

You held Mika close, swaying slightly as she cooed softly in your arms. The unfamiliar surroundings thrummed with tension, and a flicker of panic crept into your thoughts. You gave Cillian a grateful nod and stepped out into the gloom, the rain cooling the heat of anxiety that simmered just beneath the surface.

Cillian led the way up the stone path, glancing back occasionally to ensure you and Sarah followed.

Once you made it through the path, Cillian pulled out his key and unlocked the sturdy wooden door. It creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a spacious entryway bathed in soft light.

"I don't even know what to say," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped inside, holding back tears. His home immediatly felt like a sanctuary, with soft hues that embraced you, offering a stark contrast to the chaos you had escaped.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. Just take a moment," Cillian responded as you crossed into the foyer, your shoes squeaking against the polished wood floor.

It felt alien, untouched by the chaos that had enveloped your recent life. Sunlight pierced through large windows, illuminating the tasteful decor—a far cry from the cluttered corners of your old life.

Sarah, still grasping Mr. Cuddles, stepped in tentatively, her eyes darting around the room, absorbing the sight of framed photographs and elegant furnishings.

"You have a big house," she muttered, a hint of awe creeping into her voice.

Cillian knelt down to her level, his blue eyes sparkling. "It's big enough for you and your mom to feel at home tonight, okay? And tomorrow we will figure out what to do," he said gently.

You shifted Mika in your arms, watching Cillian interact with Sarah, noting the way his soft demeanor seemed to put her at ease but, just as Sarah's mood shifted to one of contempt, an attractive but rather anngry looking woman came down the stairs.

Naomi, with her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, eyed the scene before her with a mix of surprise and irritation. Her green eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of you, the unexpected guests nestled in what was her home.

“You can't be fucking serious," Naomi’s voice dripped with disdain as she stepped further into the room, arms crossed tightly over her designer nightgiwn.

"Nom, please," Cillian pleaded, raising a hand in a gesture of truce. "It's not a big deal and it's just for tonight," he continued, his voice steady but strained.

Naomi's jaw clenched as she scanned the hallway, taking in you and the children. "You think dragging a stranger into our home is okay?" Her voice dripped with venom, and you could feel the tension coil in the air like a spring ready to snap.

"I am sorry, I should go. It wasn't my intention to intrude, Cillian," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush as panic gripped you. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

Cillian stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Sarah's shoulder who, by that point, was upset and started to cry. “It's fine," he rassured you before looking at Naomi again. “Just give them a chance, Nom. She needs—”

“Needs what? A place to crash?" Naomi interrupted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think letting a homeless woman with two kids, who just breezed in from who knows where, stay here, is a smart idea?" she went on to say and you could feel the sharpness of her words cut through the air like a blade. "She could be a thief or worse," Naomi finished with a sneer, her perfect features contorting into a mask of disdain as she took a deliberate step back.

Desperation washed over you. “I’m not a thief,” you sputtered , your voice shaking. “I just," you stammered. "I should leave. I am sorry. She is right, Cillian. You don't owe me anything. I just did not kno who else to call," you explained, trembeling as you held Mika closer, feeling her warmth against your body.

“The homeless shelter would have been a good idea," Naomi shot back, her cynicism slicing through your mounting anxiety. “But instead, you chose to bring your mess into our lives.”

Cillian's eyes burned with frustration. "Enough, Naomi!" he snapped, his voice rising above the tension that thickened the air as he approached her, wanting to talk in private.

He turned slightly, keeping his voice low but firm. "You need to understand what’s happening here. She has no residency card and her husband has been abusing her. Her kids need a safe place, just for tonight and you should know what it's like, don't you?" he asked his fiancee, referring to the fact that, her and her sister grew up in forster care, but Naomi's face hardened, the defenses in her eyes hardening like steel.

"That was different, Cillian. This isn’t a charity case. Bringing her in here complicates everything!" Noami argued.

"For a little while, yes. But so what?" Cillian stepped forward, his frustration bubbling to the surface, but his voice gentle. "Maybe we can help her find something more permanent. You don’t know what it’s like to live in fear every day.”

Naomi's expression hardened, disbelief etched across her features. “Cillian, if this is about your dead wife, then you need to go back to therapy rather than bringing home some strays," she snapped, crossing her arms tighter across her chest, her demeanor icy.

“Stop right there, Naomi,” Cillian shot back, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Leanna's passing has nothing to do with this situation. This is about a woman and her children needing help. Nothing more and nothing less," Cillian stated firmly, his eyes boring into Naomi's, igniting the tension between them.

"Fine. One night," Naomi relented, though her tone dripped with contempt. “But you’re on your own. I want nothing to do with this. I am going to bed and you better make sure that she doesn't steal anything," Naomi hissed, her voice becoming a mere whisper as she stormed up the stairs, leaving an icy silence in her wake.

Cillian sighed heavily, frustration casting shadows across his features as he turned back to you and Sarah. "I'm sorry about that. She's... well, she’s a little set in her ways at times," Cillian said, a rueful smile touching his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “But she is actually a kind person. She just does not trust strangers," he added, attempting to smooth over the awkwardness.

You nodded, unsure of how to respond, your stomach twisted with anxiety at the confrontation.

Cillian took a deep breath, shaking off the tension as he crouched down to Sarah’s level again. “Hey, look," he said, his voice warm and inviting, "I think I kept some toys from when my daughter was your ages. Do you want me to get them for you? You could play with them," Cillian offered, his voice lightening the tension that hung in the air.

“Really?” Sarah’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, a flicker of excitement pushing past the remnants of fear.

Cillian nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely! Just wait right here,” he said, standing up and heading toward a door leading to the basement. Sarah watched Cillian disappear into the basement, her small fingers twisting Mr. Cuddles as anticipation lit her face. You shifted your weight, still cradling Mika against you.

The house settled into a thoughtful silence, as if allowing the tension to breathe. The soft hum of the refrigerator filled the space, and the rain outside danced against the windows. You gazed at Sarah, wondering how much she truly understood. Her innocent demeanor inst softened the jagged edges of your anxiety, but a shadow flickered across your mind as the echo of bitter memories resurfaced.

Cillian eventually returned with a slightly dusty box under one arm.

“Here it is!” he announced, opening it to reveal a collection of colorful toys. Sarah gasped, her eyes lighting up as she spotted a bright red fire truck.

“Whoa! Can I really play with this?” Sarah asked, her voice bubbling with excitement as she reached out for the toy, her fingers trembling with eagerness.

“Of course!" Cillian grinned wide, his eyes sparkling with genuine delight as he handed her the fire truck. “It's all yours now,” he added, casting a glance toward you and then to Mika, who was cooing softly.

"How old is your daughter?" you asked, shifting your weight as you rocked Mika gently in your arms, your curiosity cutting through the anxious remnants of the previous confrontation.

“She’s almost seventeen now,” Cillian replied, warmth radiating from his voice. "She's at school camp though, probably getting into some mischief," he chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with affection.

“Seventeen?” you echoed, letting the reality swirl around in your mind. “She’s almost a grown-up then," you blurted out, realising the age difference between Cillian and yourself. He was in a very different stage of his life than you were.

"Time flies," Cillian agreed, his gaze drifting off as if he were momentarily lost in memories of his daughter.

"Are you divorced from her mother then? Because, the woman you are with, she is clearly too young to have a seventeen your old," you asked, a hint of curiosity flickering in your voice as you tilted your head slightly, observing the way his face changed at the mention of his wife.

"I am sorry. This was too direct wasn't it?" you murmured, embarrassment creeping into your voice.

Cillian shook his head, his expression softening. “No, it’s fine. My wife, Leanna... she passed away several years ago. It’s a part of my story, you know? She was a remarkable person," he explained and the warmth of his tone flickered with sadness, his gaze drifting as though he were trying to conjure up her presence.

You felt the heaviness of his words settle in the air, a solemn vibration amidst the chaos. “I’m really sorry,” you said, your voice softening. “I didn’t mean to bring that up."

Cillian managed a small smile, the corners of his mouth turning up despite the weight of the conversation. "It's alright. Talking about her helps keep her alive in my memory," he said, his gaze shifting back to you, the lightness returning to his eyes. "Besides, it helps to remind me of what matters in life,” Cillian said, his voice steadying as he refocused on you.

You nodded, understanding that loss could carve deep lines in one's heart; ones that often remained visible, shadowed in the quiet moments. You didn't dare to ask what happened to her and how she passed . Instead, you let the silence settle for a moment, absorbing the warmth of Cillian's kind presence and the chaos still swirling in your own mind.

As Sarah busied herself with the fire truck, crashing it into the wooden furniture and making engine sounds, the tension in the room began to ease. You watched her laugh, her innocence illuminating the room, if only temporarily.

"What about you? What is your story?" Cillian eventually asked as he led you to the kitchen, offering you some lemonade.

You accepted the glass, the coolness of the lemonade a stark contrast to the heat of the moment you’d just experienced. You paused, looking down at the drink as you struggled to find the words that could encapsulate the chaos of your life—the fear, the hurt, the relentless need for survival.

“I grew up in a small town,” you began, taking a deep breath. “Like a commune. Very religious," you explained to Cillian, the words steadying you as you spoke. “I was told what to wear, how to act—everything was planned out for me. And then there was an arranged marriage, which is how I ended up here. I was sixteen, and... I didn’t really have a choice. I had to get married and have children.” The words tumbled out, heavy and laden with the weight of buried memories.

Cillian leaned against the kitchen counter , arms crossed, listening intently. His expression shifted from curiosity to concern, the gravity of your words pulling him in deeper.

“Sixteen?” he echoed, disbelief etched in his features.

"Yes ," you confirmed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was just a child," barely allowing yourself to breathe as the truth tumbled from your lips.

"Fuck," Cillian murmured, his eyes darkening with empathy. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever have to live their life like that."

You took a slow sip of the lemonade, the tartness biting against the backdrop of emotions swirling inside you. “I thought it would get better, you know?” you continued, your voice soft, yet steady. “I kept hoping that once I have a child, he would be kinder to me, that things would change. But they didn't. They only got worse.” The vulnerability felt raw as the memories washed over you, each one sharper than the last.

Cillian's expression darkened as he absorbed your words and, just as you spoke, his jaw clenched involuntarily. “No one deserves that,” he said firmly, a simmering anger flickering behind his blue eyes. "And you won't have to go back to him. I promise," he declared, his voice steady, like an anchor in the turbulent sea of your life.

You searched his eyes, desperate for the truth behind his words. “Why are you helping me when you don't even know me?" you asked again and Cillian leaned in slightly, sincerity radiating from his expression. “Like I said before, because it is the right thing to do. You’re a mother, and you deserve a chance at something better. It's as simple as that and I believe that showing some empathy can go a long way. Everyone has their battles, and I understand how important it is to find support when you’re at your lowest."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat tightening as emotions swir led through your chest, catching in your breath. “I don’t know what to say," you managed, your voice thick with gratitude. "You barely know me, yet you're offering so much.”

Cillian shrugged, a modest smile creeping across his lips. “Well, I can't ignore your situation when I have the means to help. I’ve lost too much myself to turn away from someone who needs it. Life’s too short to be selfish and, if I can make a difference, even a small one, I will.”

You held his gaze, absorbing the warmth in his voice, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a flicker of hope ignited within you.

“You make it sound so simple ,” you said, shaking your head slightly, your heart fluttering with the weight of possibility. “But life is far from simple. I feel like I’ve been drowning, and now maybe, for the first time, I can see a lifeline.”

Cillian nodded, his expression filled with understanding. “Drowning can feel inescapable, especially when you’re in survival mode.I have been there myself and it was actually Naomi, the woman you met before, who helped me see the light again after I lost Leanna. At first, it was like a band-aid, but it grew into something else I guess,” Cillian admitted, his gaze softening as he reflected on the past and, even though his relationship with Naomi was complicated, he was grateful for her prsence.

"Now, do you want me to show you to the guest room, so you can settle down?" Cillian finally asked, wanting to change the topic.

You nodded slowly, the weariness of the past few weeks crashing over you like a wave. Just the thought of settling into a space that felt safe, even if only for a moment, lightened the burden on your chest.

Cillian gestured toward the staircase, his demeanor shifting to one of gentle encouragement. “Follow me,” he said, leading you down a narrow hallway adorned with photographs of smiling faces and picturesque landscapes. Cillian's home sang with the echoes of laughter, the warmth of memories captured in time.

"Is this your wife?" you gestured toward a beautiful framed photograph hanging on the wall, your gaze lingering on the smiling woman beside Cillian in the picture, a woman you had seen before, on many occassions.

"Yes, that was Leanna," he said softly, stepping closer to the frame as if reconnecting with a part of his past.

"Oh my god, I have met her," you exclaimed, the realization crashing over you like a wave. “She was at the shelter when I ran away the first time. She... she helped me. I was eighteen and had an abortion. James didn't know. She was one of the clinic nurses who came to check on everyone at the shelter after the procedures. But then I couldn't stay there because I had no identification, so I never got to thank her," you confessed, your voice trembling as memories surged forward.

Cillian's eyes widened in surprise. "She worked at the clinic in Southbank," he said, disbelief and a hint of admiration mingling in his voice.

“She did and she was incredibly kind," you recalled, the memories flooding back with clarity.

Cillian turned to look at you, his expression a blend of shock and reverence. “You know, I didn’t realise that she reached out to anyone at the shelter. She often mentioned wanting to do something more after we moved here, but she focused so much on Nina and her commitments at the clinic," Cillian finished, his voice touched with a bittersweet fondness. "Anyway, let's get you settled in," he said, motioning for you to follow him down the hall as you noticed his eyes tearing up, a hint of nostalgia lingering in his gaze.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

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avroravia · 4 months ago

Text

☆ desert eagle. - I ☆

pairings: trailer park!dallas winston x f!trailer park!reader

summary: dallas can’t seem to keep himself from the pretty girl wandering throughout the park, now can he? but, it seems neither can she.

warnings: f!reader, swearing, familial descriptions, outfit descriptions, may not be time accurate (?)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡

the blazing summer sun of tulsa beat down onto the park, yet everybody seemed unbothered. children continued running around, water guns in hand as they seamlessly weaved through all the trailers. teens funded the gas stations and mini-marts, with icees and cokes in hand as they flocked to the shade. adults were either at work, or running errands throughout tulsa.

wiping the sweat off of his forehead, dallas shut the hood of the car. he tossed his borrowed-box of tools onto the grass, before making his way to the entrance of the car owner’s trailer. living in the park wasn’t necessarily bad, just mundane. going from odd-job to odd-job, then party to party.

dallas’ boots thudded along the metal ramp towards the entrance. met with the sight of an open door, he rapped his knuckles against the frame before peeking his head inside. dallas didn’t see the woman who had originally ‘hired’ him, but rather a younger girl. you. your head perked up from the small mini fridge’s door, which you seemed to be stocking.

“money’s on the table.” you told him, gaze returning to your chores.

dallas examined the trailer further, narrow brown eyes darting from the dusty chandelier to the bruised wooden floors. despite the years of use, it was still relatively clean. he could see the crumpled 10$ bill on the dinner table, which he stuffed into the pocket of his dark-washed jeans.

as you stood up, dallas’ gaze was averted to you. he had known of you, but he never held more than a two second conversation with you. dallas recognized you as ‘angela’s best friend,’ having seen you many times in the shepard’s trailer when he went to visit tim.

once dallas’ brain had made the connection, he turned to actually look at you. he took in the sight of your brown, beat-up cowboy boots, low-rise denim shorts far too short for any mother’s taste, and a cropped budweiser shirt. with your lower midriff exposed and a hand on your hip, you waited for him to say something, anything.

“you- you’re angel’s friend, huh?” dallas asked, almost instantly regretting it. he thought his words were stupid.

“something like that, yeah.” you responded, a faint southern accent showing through.

stepping closer to him, you had an almost sinister smile on your glossed lips. you placed a manicured hand onto his exposed shoulder and slightly swayed your hip outward, making butterflies bloom from every crevice in his guts. regardless, dallas kept his unamused expression. brows furrowed and his drowsy brown eyes narrow per usual.

“s’dallas, right?” you drawled, thumb toying with the thick strap of his white tank top.

dallas only hummed in response. something about you seemed so enticing to him. it drew him in like a sailor to a siren, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. despite the mixed feelings, dallas would be a liar if he said he didn’t like the feeling of your hands on his skin, or the way you looked at him.

“well, dallas,” you mused, “i’ll see you around then...”

he watched as you returned to tidying up the trailer, before taking your words as a cue to leave. stepping out the trailer, dallas shut the door behind him. his thoughts were kept clouded with the memory of you, and he swore he could still feel your soft hands on the skin of his shoulder.

grabbing the tool box, dallas made a mental note to return it to buck. though, the thought was quickly replaced with you. as he walked home, dallas looped your voice in his head, particularly the way you said his name.

man, would dallas get his kicks in with you...

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed this little drabble! i’m planning on making it a little series, on how tp!reader and tp!dallas first met along with the beginning of their relationship. once im satisfied, it’ll probably just be random moments in their relationship from then on. i’m also happy to take requests on these two and all my other readers >:)) my ask box has been so dry lately lmaoo!

#tp!dallas winston #tp!reader #dallas winston #dallas winston prompt #amar’s writing <3 #dally winston x reader #dallas winston x reader

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newtonsheffield · 8 months ago

Note

Molly, I loved little princess bean Katie and Lady Mary with Dilf daddy King Sharma 😍 we need more. How did they meet? Did Katie catch Mary sleeping in Dilf King Sharma bed? I need to know!! please 🙏

Oh they’re super sweet.

Once upon a time, Mary was only Lady Mary Sheffield, the Earl of Sheffield’s daughter and Tharman was only His Royal Highness, Tharman, Crown Prince. And He had a very sweet daughter.

“Now, I’ve arranged for you to sit next to the Prince at dinner.”

Mary stared at her mother as they sat in the back of the car weaving through traffic. “How, and more importantly; Why?”

Her mother waved her hand. “I made a donation to this… whatever this charity is.”

“A children’s hospital? You know, sick children.”

“Don’t be so…snippy tonight.” Her mother sighed, “Mary, please. Please don’t be sarcastic tonight.”

“So… don’t be myself?” Mary asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m to sit next to the Crown Prince for some… ungodly reason and… become mute.”

“Oh don’t be dense.” Her mother scoffed, “He’s had long enough. It’s high time he married again and you, if you would put in just a modicum of effort; would be perfect.”

“He’s had long enough?!” Mary squawked, a little horrified, “Mama, his wife died from complications after childbirth. I think he’s allowed to grieve.”

“Oh, is that what you’re worried about?!” Her mother rolled her eyes, “Darling, you could ship the girl off to boarding school by the time you’re actually married. And I’m sure they have people who would take care of her in the meantime.”

Mary knew that all too well. She’d spent an entire childhood of her own with no one but a nanny for company, her parents sometimes not even in the same country. So lonely.

Mary gaped at her mother, “What are you-?! I can’t believe you.”

“You’re quite pretty when you smile. Just flirt with him a little, one thing can lead to another. A little pregnancy scare in a few months and-“

“I’m not sitting beside him!” The car pulled up to the venue and Mary slipped out as soon as she could, desperate to slip away but her mother caught her by the arm, her nails digging in.

“You are going to. You can’t not. How would that look?”

Her mother was right. She could hardly refuse to sit beside the prince without it looking like a slight but all she felt in the pit of her stomach was dread. Dread that increased with every step she took.

She could feel her mother’s eyes boring in to her from three tables away as they waited for the prince to arrive, Mary already in her seat. He’d become a bit of a recluse truly, in the four years since his wife had passed away. Appearing at events and leaving as soon as would have been appropriate. She’d seen him quite a few times at a distance, though they’d never been introduced and as she stood, waiting for him to make his way across the room.

He was handsome, up close. She realised as he inclined his head to everyone at the table and his eyes fell on her. His jaw sharp and his eyes kind, his thick, dark hair curling over his brow. So handsome that she fumbled a little as she curtsied and she could nearly hear her mother cursing across the room.

“Please, please. Everyone sit.” He smiled, “I’m sorry I’m so late. A little Princess was telling me all the reasons why I should take her to the toy store tomorrow.”

Everyone let out a polite chuckle as they settled into their seats and mary did the same, feeling a little wooden. Avoiding her mother’s piercing gaze. She could hardly focus on anything as the dinner started, staring at her glass of water as conversation started around her.

“Is everything alright?”

His voice was warm, close to her ear and it startled her, the gentleness in it. She let her eyes slide to his and a lump appeared in her throat at the gentle concern colouring his face.

“Of course, your highness.”

His eyes slid to her name card, “I’m sorry I’m not better company, Lady Mary. I’d be very happy to trade places.”

Mary breathed a sighed imaging her mother’s furious face. “Lord, please don’t do that.”

“I’m very happy for you to choose the topic of conversation then. I’ll admit I’m a poor conversationalist these days. I spend most of my time with a four year old. Well, she will be soon.”

There was something so sweet in that. In the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about his daughter and his smile grew brighter. And it made her brave.

She cleared her throat, smiling as she took a sip of her wine. “Are we acquainted enough that I could ask you for a favour?”

His eyes widened but he leaned in, smiling bemusedly, “Well we’ve known one another a full minute. I have to imagine we are.”

“No matter what I do tonight, can you pretend to be very uninterested in me?”

“Do you want me to be uninterested in you?”

“I want my mother to think you are.”

“Ah.” He gave her a tight smile. “I see.”

He cleared his throat, making a great show of leaning away from her. “I’m sorry, Lady Mary, I disagree!”

She bit back a smile, “Maybe a little too dramatic.”

He winked at her quickly before he turned away completely, nudging his elbow until her hand rested on it and it looked for all the world as though she was desperately trying to get his attention.

“Did you try, Mary?” Her mother tutted as they left. “Did you actually try?!”

“I did, Mother.” She said sighing, “I’m not sure what you wanted me to do? Take my dress off and sit in his lap?”

Her mother stood stone faced. “You aren’t anywhere near as amusing as you think.”

“Maybe not, but I am going home.”

“Fine. You’re useless to me anyway.”

Mary sighed as she turned away, trying not to let it sting as she made her way down the steps towards her waiting car. She was almost there when she heard a voice call out.

“Are we safe?”

She started at the sound of his voice and turned to see him waiting for her, grinning a slightly lopsided smile that made her heart skip.

“Ah well, she’s deemed me useless and sent me home.” Mary chuckled, “She continues to think I’m a disappointment so… I’d have to say quite the win tonight.”

His laughter was a bemused, warm little thing and she had the oddest impression that it had made its way into her chest. “I’m always glad to be of assistance, Lady Mary.”

“Very gallant of you, Your Highness.”

He really was very handsome as he smiled at her in the moonlight, dimples on his cheeks. He paused for a moment, “Can I… ask you a question?”

“I think we’re past that point. Surely.”

“Why? Why did you…? Many women might have behaved differently and I just… Why?”

Mary sighed, honesty spilling out of her. “If I give my mother this… it would never be enough. I will never be enough for her. And it doesn’t seem fair for you to be drawn into all that.”

He gave her a sad smile, leaning in closer. “Then I’m afraid to say it but your mother’s an idiot.”

Surprised laughter burst out of her and she loved the way his smile grew at the sound of it.

“Then it’s not because you’re seeing someone else?”

Her heart stuttered. “I’m not but…”

“Lady Mary I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me. No one would have to know. I only… It’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself at one of these things and I… I’d like to get to know you.”

She stared at him, a little in shock but the answer came without much thought. “I think I’d like that as well.”

It was a nearly two months later, when she woke up warm in his bed, his chest warm behind her before she slipped out of it. Throwing the shirt she’d slipped off his shoulders last night back over her as she padded towards the kitchen.

His sister had taken Kate out the night before, she’d bring her back this afternoon and something ached in her chest, something anxious at what they’d been dancing around. Her meeting his daughter.

He loved his daughter. That much was obvious. From the way he spoke about her and the fact that his study was covered in scrawled pictures in bright green crayon. The greatest gift of his life, he called her, with so much warmth that a lump grew in Mary’s throat now just thinking about it as she opened the fridge. There was another, bigger kitchen, Mary knew, where professional chefs toiled away but this was for the family alone, so they didn’t have to bother the staff over tiny little things. Hunger gnawed at her stomach and she was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear it.

“Who are you?!”

“Fuck!” Mary squawked in surprise, letting out a screech as she dropped the jug of orange juice she’d just lifted off the shelf, the glass smashing on the floor at her feet as she whirled around.

A tiny girl was standing in the door way still in her pyjamas, fluffy slippers on her feet. She had Tharman’s thick, curly hair that cascaded down her shoulders, his little twin as she stared adorably up at Mary, tapping her foot.

“My Appa says that’s a naughty word.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” Mary gasped as footsteps sounded in the hallway, Tharman rushing in.

He was only in his boxers his hair disheveled from sleep and the way Mary’s hands had run through with her legs over his shoulders and his jaw fell open at the sight in front of him. Mary, naked but for his shirt. His daughter, confused. Juice, all over the floor.

“Kate, Peanut.” Tharman said finally, picking her up and settling her on his hip with an apologetic look at Mary. “Auntie Im was supposed to drop you off later.”

“Granny said she needed her.” Kate chirped still staring at Mary, who could hardly breathe. “Where are her pyjamas?”

Mary wanted to fall through the ground, truth be told, trying to tug the shirt further down her thighs. “I… left them at home.”

Tharman smirked a little looking up at the ceiling before he sighed. “Kate, remember how we spoke about how sometimes Men and women have special friends?”

Kate nodded, resting her chin on her father’s shoulder. “Then they get married sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” Tharman said quickly, “Well, this is Mary and she’s Appa’s special friend. Can you say Hello?”

Kate smiled at her, a cheeky little grin as she reached out her hand for Mary to shake, “I’m Kate.”

Mary’s heart fluttered as she held her hand out to take Kate’s tiny one in hers. “It’s nice to meet you kate. Your Appa’s told me so much about you.”

Kate looked suspicious, “Appa is silly.”

“Appa’s very silly.” Tharman huffed in agreement, kissing his daughter’s temple.

“Are you going to stay with us today?”

Mary looked at Tharman who smiled encouragingly before she nodded, “If that’s okay with you.”

“Mary might be around here a lot from now on, peanut.”

Kate looked between them slowly, her lips pouting. “Mary can you read?”

Mary bit back a laugh, “I can read, yes.”

“Can you do voices? Appa��s bad at them.”

“I can… try.”

Kate patted her father’s head in a sign to let her down and she tugged Mary’s hand forward dragging her out of the kitchen, calling back to her father. “Mary and me are going to get books and toys Appa!”

Tharman kissed Mary’s cheek quickly as she passed sighing as they left “I guess I’ll clean up the juice then.”

And when she sat on the floor with Kate on her lap and Tharman across from her it was shard not to feel as though this was the start of their little family. Even if no one else knew yet.

#head on the pillow au #kate sharma #kate sheffield #mary x Tharman #papa sharma remains a DILF #mary sharma #molly’s asks and answers

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ay0nha · 3 months ago

Text

The Ritual of Chaos | N.K.

SUMMARY: You refused morality just for the sake of being difficult. You made a habit of it. There were reasons habits quickly morphed into vices, something immoral and wicked. You were lethal, the definition of torment. Your silhouette alone was enough to send Nananmi spiraling.

PAIRING: Nanami Kento x f!reader (anti-hero of sorts)

WORD COUNT: 2K

WARNINGS: Introduction to story/reader/plot, higher-ups after reader, Nanami being a softie deep down, description of fighting/related injury, jjk typical things, tad angsty, made-up cursed objects, etc.

A/N: Posting from the drafts. Enjoy.

Nanami tags:

@chimamire-ga @eliuriastwo @moon-taffy @thefutureastronaut @planetahmane @musababy @khaleesihavilliard @vee-ai @killlerqween @nokkoongie @anti-heroism @nanamin94 @hatsunemitskislobotomy @mischiefmanaged71 @darkstudentsaladbakery

“Answer the question.”

The brief and concise statement thrown at you mimicked the ones prior. Your reluctance to answer was anticipated; everyone seated before the Jujutsu higher-ups reacted similarly. But the jury surrounding you didn’t have the same empathy for you.

“The answer is obvious, isn’t it?” You were oddly relaxed in the stiff wooden seat. The eyes on you hadn’t made you nervous but instead energized your subtle rage. “Or is our system that dull? Have you truly failed to see who is behind this?”

“Be mindful; your responses have repercussions.” The Jujutsu Commander warned. His position saved you from a scornful vote against your innocence. Yet, those who looked on weren’t too far off. “Were you or were you not responsible for what happened?”

The framing of your trial was spectacular. All evidence was vindictive, and the story was so perfectly skewed there was no way to worm your way out. Your fate was already sealed.

“You lot ask the wrong questions.” Your laugh was bitter.

“Your admission. Only.” His patience was running thin, and his politeness was only formality, as his tone opposed it entirely.

The truth was a volatile thing. Children were taught that it was essential in life, valued so highly that corrupt justice could manipulate it so finely that you almost believed it yourself.

Lying, therefore, became a habit. It came naturally as if it was second-hand nature.

The twitch of your lip was poisonous. “Guilty.”

The others murmured at your feigned candor. The whispers were silly, as anonymity never existed for those behind the walls. Every face was bared, burned into your memory by resentment.

—

Your wrists itched.

It was as if phantom threads tethered you down. When the knots tightened due to resistance, you became a marionette for those who put you in your place. You’d move with talent as a puppet controlled by those ranked above you.

Your exhaustion created a silly—delusional— image. Your cheeks were rosy with red paint, and your eyes brightened with Pierrot-styled tears. You performed on a stage silently, an alienated observer of the mysteries and shadows of sorcery.

You took on a second life, reciting an alert, troubled, swaying, and deliberately uncertain verse. It didn’t matter if the audience understood; they considered what you said genuine art. Then, when it all ended, the standing ovation wouldn’t bring you joy but the flowers that waited for you.

It wasn’t until the third time your name was called that you acknowledged its source.

“Let’s go.” Nanami’s tone was sterile, but you knew he was fighting frustration at your closed eyes. Ignoring his instruction, you languidly rolled your head in his direction to finally acknowledge him. “The car is outside.”

“Nanami…” You yawned through his name with teasing indifference. Although you were in the office under other pretenses, you would have been content toying with him. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

It was as if you knew how your words tickled Nanami’s sides. They taunted him with childhood memories that made the tips of his ears heat. However, your words cemented that you siphoned your humor through affection.

Nanami remained practical; any endearment had to be taken at face value.

“You look good,” you commented politely as if years had passed. In reality, you saw each other often, but conversation was rarely exchanged past regulation directives.

Your compliments continued to flow while you met where Ijichi waited. You noted how Nanami filled his suit well, age defining his features in a way most found enviable. There was hope in your voice that Nanami would return the favor to catch up with you.

Yet, you knew criticism riddled his thoughts.

Ijichi wasn’t as skilled at hiding his impression of you. He caught your eyes more than once through the mirrors as Nanami highlighted the dangers of the mission. Ijichi looked nervous to be so close to you, as if another one of your mistakes would cost him his life.

“Ijichi, expect her to accompany us on several missions...” Nanami hadn’t looked up from the case file, but his intuition knew how to calm his coworker “...until I say otherwise.”

“Don’t be afraid to say it, Kento…” You mused coarsely. “One oversight and mediation doesn’t apply to me…”

The scenery slowly started to shift from highrises to foliage. The missions on the outskirts were always more discreet. The fresh air was too pure for the deadlier cursed spirits. Their strength had little to latch onto without a dense population to feed on.

“I’m dangerous, don’t you know?” You taunted your driver, eye sparkling with amusement. “So they ship me off to the countryside.”

“We’re still within Tokyo limits.” Ijichi recited, thinking his misplaced comment would be helpful. “Mr. Kento specifically requested that—

“Notice how this never happens to Gojo?” You ignored him deftly. You scoffed tightly, your reprimands still fresh. “How many buildings has he totaled? And yet, he doesn’t have a babysitter.”

“Twenty-four—” Ijichi’s answer flew out of his mouth before he could stop. You watched him shrink under your glare. “Excuse me, I didn’t—

“Enough. Focus.” In a tired tone, Nananmi reminded you both of your purpose. “The locals believe the church is haunted. Records say an occultist died there a few years ago…”

Taking advantage of the car’s sway, you moved to see the file. The church was made of dilapidated stone that belonged to centuries prior. It only just started hosting more curses than humans could handle. Analyses were taken, proving that first-year students could handle it well.

Yet, there was something off. Nanami always read residuals uniquely.

The blood looked fresh, scattered, and so beautifully patterned that it was clearly intentional. It swirled hypnotically, challenging anything rational. There was no use in prayers. The gore set the air with dust that could never settle; a blood-warm heat had set into your marrow, never to be forgotten; it had been dragged to your doorstep like a cat bringing in fowl.

“Shit…” You finger traced the photo of some faint carvings. Your shoulder pushed into Nanami’s, your interest outweighing personal space. “This has to be one of us…”

One of us. Nanami flinched at the thought. It was this thought process that represented the rift you created. This mission was to determine your morality and whether Nanami was wrong to advocate for your reinstatement.

You refused morality just for the sake of being difficult. You made a habit of it. There were reasons habits quickly morphed into vices, something immoral and wicked. You were lethal, the definition of torment. Your silhouette alone was enough to send Nananmi spiraling.

However, you weren’t more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing to him. He struggled himself with his decision, he struggled with the blind faith he had in you. This was different, he decided.

Nanami learned the hard way of earning your loose alliance. The scar you left behind cinched on his side, and sometimes, if he found you lingering in his mind, he swore he felt it ache. Yet, being in your presence seemed to be the closest thing to a remedy.

—

“What do you see?” Nanami’s tone was sterile, but you knew he was fighting frustration at your languidity.

You felt childish and undermined, but you knew Nanami was following orders. Yet, your core frustration came from being in the countryside. The higher-ups slowly pushed you out of the city with each mission you were attached to. Away from real problems, you were no longer deemed theirs. That distance kept you busy with the unwanted chores of dealing with low-grade curses who were scared of their own shadows.

The stone walls of the church were icy, and the lack of sunlight nurtured the cold. Nature started reclaiming every pew, and the stained glass became disfigured. Its evidence of abandonment seemed uneventful—normal.

“Graffiti.” Your response was dull, your attention fragmented by your thoughts.

Effort was a comical notion.

Sorcery required effort at times, just as breathing did. The icy air that reached the ends of your lungs stung. Yet, each breath was quieter, the effort only coming in the form of physical mechanics of pushing a warm breath back out that the air around you marked.

Although studied meticulously, sorcery’s fundamental trait was its vitality. It shifted and molded. Evolved. It made even more concrete things seem like rubber, rejecting electricity with an uncanny ability to mold into shapes unknown. It was the type of thing that could be so exciting to happen just to become something so vague that it no longer held value to it.

“No.” Another wrong answer. “Look closer.” Nanami urged you, hands tucked away and nodding ahead. “The carvings are in a pattern. Do you recognize it?”

It was an ancient incantation, one whose effectiveness had lessened with time. Most charms were for protective measures, but the spiraled swirl of lettering was fresh. You traced your fingers across the symbols, feeling their lingering heat, only freshly scorched.

“Cursed user?” Your breath was just shy of being transcribable in the air.

The temperature was dropping by the second. Something dense settled on your skin as a warning. The cursed energy came from multiple points and was not able to find a convergence point. Instead, its disharmony grated against itself, creating such pressure that its purpose became overt.

In hushed tones, you were careful with your words. “Something is trying to get out.”

“Precisely.” Nanami’s voice echoed lightly, as did his footsteps. “It has been entirely overlooked…” He explained leading you to the heart of the church. “...I’ve been monitoring this place for months—

“So this is where you disappear to?” You bubbled, Nanami's whereabouts unintentionally drawing a smile out of you. Your laughter started to grow gently. “…and here I thought someone—a man like you, of your stature, would have—well, you know.”

“I don’t follow,” Nanami answered absentmindedly. His focus was still following the etchings and hoping to find any residuals.

“You value your privacy,” You weighed earnestly. “I don’t blame you for handling your more intimate business away from, well, everything else.”

Nanami paused.

After a few heartbeats of hesitation, he caught onto your implications. There was no reply save for a subtle retexturing of his breath, the gap between inhalations infinitesimally smaller, the length of his exhalations protracted.

It was nearly imperceptible as Nanami fought to smother it. It may have gone unnoticed, mistaken for concentration. However, to an experienced eye, you watched your words ripple an ever-still puddle of emotions.

With a gentle clear of his throat, Nanami quelled your suspicions. “You’re the only other that knows this exists.”

“Not even those old conservatives?” You were impressed by his discretion. “Breaking the rules for me, Kento?”

Nanami remained practical; any endearment had to be taken at face value.

“Our visit is to resolve this before they find out.” He ignored you, reaching for his blunt blade. “Now, stand back.”

Cursed energy fluidly surrounded his stature as he conjured his technique.

With sharpened eyes, you took Nanami’s presence in. The suit he wore was filled well. Even late into the evening, he was always so poised. Professional. It worked silently, exuding from his presence alone. That magnetism couldn’t be credited to sorcery but to how he evolved, becoming pointed and moving without fault.

It channeled well into his movements; the swipe of his blade was swift in finding the wall’s weak point. Everything was so well calculated. Nanami remained standing, untouched by the debris that floated around you.

“Stay close,” He instructed, knowing curses fed off the unanticipated. “Please understand this is for information only.”

Very little light penetrated the swamp of shadows. That gleam revealed etchings of connected hands. They were conjoined by a thin tongue of brilliant flame that wound around the hands like a red-hot wire.

You stepped carefully, tracing the path Nanami created for you. He mumbled warnings that always came with the unknown, but his voice slowly warbled into a tune you could barely make out. The walls seemed to pull you in, their dissonance filling your senses.

“It’s warm…” You noted the oddity, furthering your curiosity. Your fingertips burned against the markings. “It’s like the cursed energy is…is it? It’s–It’s moving.”

“It’s growing,” Nanami stated. A feeling of regret bubbled behind his words as if reprimanding himself for thinking aloud. “These confinements can no longer hold it.”

The continued touch burned.

You flinched, drawing your hand to your chest. The walls were upset by the action, groaning with age and anger. The sound was sharp and tonal, lacking an echo, its mournful cry resonating with despair.

“Do you hear that?” Your question dissipated lamely. Although words were spoken, the sounds around you overlapped, creating a deep and thunderous sense of urgency.

The noise was luring you into a past that never was. This was the moment before a ship could crash onto the rocks. Your arms felt like lead, weighing down with poisonous consequences.

The cursed energy pressed into your abdomen from all directions; the air was pushed from your lungs, your ribcage about to crack; your eyes felt forced back into your head; your eardrums swelled, pounding within your skull, and then with a crack like a whip you—

“Are you alright?” Nanami watched you return to yourself. He called for you, but you were lost under the curse’s lure. It wasn’t until he reached for your palm that you sucked in air. “What happened?”

You felt a needle of pain in your nose like you were near tears. “It’s—crying.”

The missions on the outskirts were always more condensed. The fresh air was too pure for the deadlier cursed spirits. Their strength needed more to latch onto with a dense population to feed on. This, however, deviated at the core. It was a mistake that relied on the distance to stay hidden. It was an anomaly that should have never been touched. And yet, it found its new prey.

Nanami’s grip on you tightened with regret. “This was a mistake—

“No, wait…” Your brows furrowed as you pulled away. “There’s something in here,” You continued, hands reaching for the inner wall’s deterioration. The walls became silent, unwilling to guide you any further. “We need to exorcise this—

“This was to survey only.” Nanami checked his watch, the hands taunting the idea of overtime. A sinking feeling swirled in his chest. “Exorcising an unknown, most likely, unregistered curse is too unpredictable.”

A quick solution was never appealing when you were capable of unearthing hidden answers. That novelty fed your reputation of being offensively bold. Even now, as you moved through the unknown, you weren’t afraid of the repercussions.

“Why did you bring me here, then? Huh?” The anger you carried felt foreign. Rarely, if even, had you directed it towards your counterpart. “Pity? To make me feel better about being benched?”

Although you were still present, Nanami watched you flee. Your guard returned stronger, but he didn’t regret his words. Nanami’s eyes were pleading, and you went to chastise him, but you found something distinct there. You didn’t know what to do with it, but to muse a buried thought.

“You know that’s not—

Years worth of vexation simmered on the surface of your skin. “Save your lecture.”

You weren’t lucky like the others. There wasn’t a defining moment that made you who you were, or something so tragic that its vengeance led to motivation. Your birth was uneventful, your existence logged by a series of numbers, and your childhood consisted of mediocre memories.

Even now, the memory of arriving at Jujutsu Tech was muddled with an indifference put upon you. It wasn’t for a lack of enthusiasm but for the way, even there, with its rarity and quaintness, you were ignored so blatantly.

There was never any demureness in how you spoke out. You dissected the obvious flaws of the teachers and higher-ups, but your voice wasn’t considered the way others were. Your presence only became perceived insolence. You hadn’t cared about the threats offered, even when you were removed from the curriculum entirely.

The lack of lineage attached to your name and rare technique led to reprimands even in adulthood. Your presence with Nanami was one of them.

Although not on an official mission, Nanami’s current company was obligatory. Where he went, you were required to shadow: learn from your mistakes and behave like a true first-grade sorcerer.

After a so-called catastrophe, you were put before the higher-ups. Every grievance was brought forth and judgment determined you were unfit to even advocate for yourself. It was then those imaginary-thin strings wound around your wrists with permanency.

You pulled at them the further you ignored Nanami’s warnings.

“This is why you brought me…” You reminded him of your punishment. For you, even this, was to keep an eye on you. “...isn’t it?”

With Nanami’s cemented frown, his intentions were further concealed. It didn’t have the capacity to speak of the trip’s impulsivity. It ignored the uncharacteristic apprehension that created knots between Nanami’s shoulder blades, new to the sorcerer celebrated for composure.

It was rash, but the innate desire was clear; Nanami wanted to be behind your reprieve.

“There are rules and regulations. ” He swallowed any lingering remorse. “They don’t stop for you.”

He mistook his demeanor for bravery, but his true bravery formed by being across from you. The only barrier seemed to be Nanami’s incorruptible moral code, a space where you couldn’t quite freely exist.

“Nanami Kento, the reluctant hero…” You tutted with tender sarcasm. A hand rested above your heart like the elderly read the headline that exploited your name, “...how kind of you to pity a recluse like me.…”

Your words carried back to Nanami’s core, becoming distant as you furthered into the mess he’d created. The darkness succumbed to your presence, your cursed energy steady as it unknowingly created space for the spirit that lurked.

Nanami’s lips shaped your name, but all you could hear was a mild ringing, a buzz. Your anger dissipated into a murky haze; the harder you blinked, the more the argument dissipated. Even if you had held onto it, the lump in your throat wouldn’t allow it to exist.

The longer you lingered with the feeling, the more your surroundings slowly morphed.

All you could hear was your shaky breaths, and all you could see was a faint familiarity with your surroundings. Even your stumbling steps forward felt practiced.

“Keep up…” A disharmonious voice called for you. It was airy, like a child filled with excitement. “Hurry!”

The environment was damp, still reflecting the country’s dreariness. It was a good hiding place to play, to sneak, and for you to abuse. But the fog in your mind started to swirl. The colors became deeper, more like shadows that soon transformed into familiar figures.

The curse’s magnetism was a warning you ignored, causing your pupils to blow large at the burden before you.

The scene was explicit—nothing could be saved from the carnage.

There was no use in prayers. The gore set the air with dust that could never settle; a blood-warm heat had set into your marrow, never to be forgotten; it had been dragged to your doorstep like a cat bringing in fowl.

You recognized your own body from the anguish of your shoulders. Hunched over Nanami’s body as you held him tightly, that lump formed in your throat again.

The fabricated illusion scratched at subconscious emotions and controlled your movements. Your sentimentality was your weakness. Even your stubbornness couldn’t block the overwhelming flood of anxieties and longing.

You watched yourself stuck in a loop, hand rhythmically gliding across the fabric of his shirt in hopes of softening it. To revive something that was determined to remain still. Its structure was that of a fever dream, its kaleidoscope quality provoking you to interpret it.

“Nanami?” You couldn’t tell which version of you spoke. Regardless, his name was like torture. “Nanami—please.”

Your defenses damped, your cursed energy draining the further you succumbed to the hallucination.

“You can’t leave me—” The wails you let out grated against your skin, unrecognizable as your own. “I can’t do—please, Nanami!”

There was a disillusioned passion you felt. It grounded you within the false reality. Even if your mind wasn’t your own, your body moved with muscle memory. Your cursed energy crawled from your core to your fingertips, using the little amounts to start your technique.

The blue energy extended like nails. You stalked forward until they met your second self’s back, piercing through your back until you could feel the breeze on the other side.

The puncture flashed an image, revealing the truth of your damage. The spell you were under broke. The veil was no longer misguiding you.

“Nanami—” You cursed his name as he grunted in pain. Your hand was warm with his blood. “Fuck. Fuck—” The words tumbled from your quivering lip. You couldn’t think of anything else, repeating the curse. “I’m so sorry—I—

Guilt crawled up your throat when you recognized his hold on your wrist. Nanami’s grip was the only thing keeping your strike from being lethal. Your mouth was dry, shallow breaths passing your lips with a bargaining plea.

“No, no, no—” Your vocabulary became limited the further you panicked. “Nanami—

Nanami’s breath struggled, but there was determination on his brow. The copper taste took over his tongue; any warning could never make it out in time.

Your body froze, and you were more aware of your surroundings than your mind. It happened too quickly for you to realize the position you had put yourself in; in a flash, you pushed Nanami to endure the hit from the curse that had forced your hand.

#q #nanami kento #nanami #kento #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento angst #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk #jjk nanami #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x you #nanami x oc #nanami x f!reader

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rottenpumpkin13 · 4 months ago

Note

what if AGS visited a toy store?

• Sephiroth feels indifferent but intrigued as he looks at all the toys, wondering if the spark of excitement is what he would have felt if he had been a boy given gil to spend by his parents and allowed to play freely. He had toys as a child, but they were methodical, and his playtimes were observed purely for study. He never had toys meant for fun like board games, musical instruments, art supplies, action figures, or Lego sets. Genesis and Angeal encourage him to pick out something fun, but he doesn't know what to do. What’s fun for him? Being with his friends is fun, and coming to the toy store with them is more fun than anything else. So, he picks out a board game and a stuffed moogle—a nod to two things he never had: friends to play with and the ability to just be a kid.

• Angeal doesn't know how to act honestly; he's never been in a position where he's in a toy store with gil in his pocket to spend. That seemed like a luxury he grew up without knowing. That childlike excitement returns full force when he sees a remote control car. He remembers Genesis had one they played with, and the closest thing Angeal had was a wooden car his dad built for him, attached to a stick meant for running and racing. His dad promised they'd one day get a remote control car, but he died before he could fulfill that promise. Angeal keeps looking at the remote control car. He has the gil now, but a million thoughts race through his mind: he shouldn't waste it on things like this, he's older now. But then that Buster Sword weighs on his back, the one his father fought sweat and blood for, not taking a single gil to his grave. He knows it's a reckless decision, but he'll deal with the guilt later. Now, he just has the toy car and, in a funny way, a dream fulfilled on his father's behalf.

• Genesis only came because of Angeal and Sephiroth, his friends who never had the experience that was routine for him as a child: going to the fancy toy store in the city and picking out whatever he wanted with no limit on spending. He thinks he's grown past it and is happy browsing the shelves simply to judge whatever nonsense kids these days find fun. But then he sees it: one of those electronic sound boards meant for children 5 and under, colorful and flashy, filled with buttons that make loud sounds and play music. He finds himself drawn to it, fingers reaching out to the back of the box to see pictures of kids playing with it, having the time of their lives. 'Lucky kids,' he thinks. His parents may have gotten him anything he wanted, but they had a policy when it came to toys: nothing loud and disruptive. "Play quietly" and don’t disturb the ambiance. Something as loud and flashy as this would have been forbidden in his parents' house. But he's not at his parents' house anymore, and he can satisfy that inner child's desire to scream and be heard. So, he buys it.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #crisis core

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ruershrimo · 11 months ago

Note

#18 with platonic Brother-in-law Diluc! I think it would be funny if Traveller!Reader (jokingly) and Paimon (not so jokingly) kept asking for increasingly expensive things for Christmas. Whether Diluc delivers is up to you.

the christmas mix | #18- santa baby & #7- rocking around the christmas tree | brother-in-law!diluc and traveller!reader (platonic), husband!kaeya x traveller!reader (romantic)

event masterlist

features diluc (platonic), kaeya (romantic), traveller!reader

notes: hello honey, I really hope this is okay!! you were so sweet and I really liked your idea hahah it just took me a while. I’m so sorry if it’s not up to standard and wasn’t worth the wait (please let me know if you’d like me to write anything else in the future to compensate ;v;,,). regardless, I hope you have a wonderful christmas ❤️!!

warnings: none, really (except for no capitalisation, I suppose?)

summary: it seems like paimon doesn’t have any regard for diluc’s bank account (and why would she?), and that your husband and his brother will be having a good christmas this year, whether they’d like to admit it or not.

christmas in mondstadt, you’ve come to learn, is always a cheery, beautiful thing. there are stalls temporarily set up in springvale and the city itself, selling mulled dandelion wine, more varieties of wurst than there were dandelion seeds in teyvat, and all kinds of lovely little trinkets from traditionally made wooden toys to handmade christmas tree ornaments. it’s like the one time of the year when parents are taking their children all the way to dragonspine to play with the snow, the time when citizens are flocking to the cathedral to pray to their lord (who just so happens to be the drunkard singing christmas carols in the tavern), the time when families are gathering by the fireplace to chat and bask in each other’s presence or sitting by the table to enjoy a lovingly prepared meal at christmas gatherings, parties and the like. even some members of the knights of favonius are taking a break no matter how busy they are— especially jean, lord knows how much the lady needs a break— and you and your husband kaeya already have loads of preparations underway for christmas gatherings and the like.

it was a lovely thing.

“merry christmas,” your brother-in-law— diluc ragnvindr, the wine tycoon himself— greets you as you enter the tavern after a long day of commissions (it was to be expected, what with all the preparations needed to be made for a safe and pleasant christmas).

kaeya waves at you as you sit by the counter, before you peck his cheek and tuck some few of his luscious strands of blue hair behind his ear with a “hello, love”.

“merry christmas to you too,” you reply to diluc, “even if it’s only, like— a whole week away?”

“well, christmas in mondstadt starts a month before the actual day itself,” kaeya jokes, “and I’m sure my dear brother would be pleased to gift you whatever christmas present you’d like, wouldn’t you, diluc?”

diluc grimaces as if looking at the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. (it was funny.) “shouldn’t you be doing that for your own spouse, kaeya?” even the way he says his brother’s name sounds like he’s spitting it out, though you know he doesn’t truly despise him, and so you try your best to hold a snort.

“oooh, ooh, master diluc!” paimon starts, rather discourteously (or maybe out of a lack of care for how the poor man would perceive her) waving her little arms about before his face, “maybe you can give us some really tasty, fancy food for christmas!”

“hmm, expensive, too,” you join in, teasing him, “oh, please, diluc? or maybe even one of those new automobile machines they’re working on in fontaine…”

it seems kaeya’s getting the hint— your hint, at least, since it seems like paimon is every bit serious about this unlike you and your husband. “well, you heard them, diluc—”

“I am not getting you a car from fontaine of all places. and aren’t you already closely acquainted with the actual Chief Justice himself?”

and on it went, with paimon naming every thing she could think of, and you (or your beloved kaeya) listing whatever else was more expensive than what she did as if you were raising the price at an auction— yet one difference this had from an actual auction was that instead of the buyers paying for the increasingly costly dishes, gifts and goods, it was poor master diluc instead.

and your brother-in-law, though annoyed, was never fazed by the prices themselves and kept at the empty glasses he had been cleaning.

—

“do you think he’ll actually get any of what we said we wanted?” you ask as the two you walk out the tavern, a dozed-off paimon in your arms.

“I don’t think so,” kaeya begins, “but knowing him… well, let’s just say that whatever he decides to do will be interesting, to say the least.”

“uh-huh,” you reply, raising a brow.

—

there’s music playing from the gramophone, a jolly tune that kaeya hums as the fireplace crackles in tune with in delight.

“kaeya,” you call. he stops mid-hum, setting down the cutlery on the table. he gets up immediately, like a pet to its owner’s voice, and suddenly you’re giggling fondly at the thought without having noticed it.

“yes?” from behind his arms circle you like a warm, snug blanket, luscious and long strands of beautiful blue tickling your back and the nape of your neck, and his hand on your waist.

“I think that madman really did it,” you grin, gesturing to the bottom of the ornately decorated (courtesy of both yours and kaeya’s ideas for where to place each and every ornament) christmas tree, and each of the gifts below them (from how you know what each one is, you’re quite sure he’s not the best gift-wrapper around, but definitely the wealthiest): a cutting-edge thirty-million-mora watch from fontaine, bespoke paimon-sized garments made from liyuean materials and handmade by inazuman tailors, and even a limited-edition TCG card yet to be fully released to the public (you know cyno would be punching the air right now if he knew). “or, at least, he tried to get some, even though some of the wishes we brought up were almost unfulfillable. he tried to get most of them.”

“well I suppose we ought to just wait for him to come, if he’ll even visit,” kaeya says.

“wonder how he even snuck it all here in the first place,” you jest, though you suppose the darknight hero had temporarily done some christmas duties in santa’s stead the night before, “and I’m sure that he’ll come,” you finish, pecking your husband on the cheek.

—

“merry christmas,” diluc says as he walks through the door, and although it’s late and most of the others have left, the clock has yet to strike midnight and it’s still christmas night.

“and a happy christmas to you too, diluc,” kaeya greets, “and I was surprised you actually delivered. you wouldn’t happen to just be fooling us with the wrapping paper, would you?”

“do you want me to have done so?”

pft— even after regaining some of what they had before they bore the titles of estranged brothers, your husband was still absolutely incorrigible. (it was really funny, especially now that you knew each word they spoke to the other had less hate and more love than the last; that you knew it was more of playful jesting against a thoroughly annoyed sigh instead of vestiges of a duel many, many years ago.)

but still. poor old master diluc, having to deal with his brother and his spouse, as well as the borderline unmeetable demands of said brother’s spouse’s long-time travelling companion.

“haha! I was just joking, diluc. but thank you, for this, I suppose.”

“mhm,” you add, “you should’ve seen paimon’s face when she saw the wrapping— actually, we were waiting for you to come so that we could open all of the presents together, right in front of the person who’d gotten them for us.

“paimon!” you call, directing your voice to the rooms above you and up the stairs, “diluc’s here.”

then she floats down, and, like a child, wags her legs about excitedly. “ooh, paimon was so excited for this!”

so the four of you open the gifts together, untangling the poorly-tied ribbons (again, you’re sure diluc must have tried his best, and done so on his own, too) and tearing away at the wrapping paper. paimon squeals in delight with each gift opened, and kaeya whips out a kamera for a picture of the four of you.

—

“merry christmas, diluc,” kaeya says, handing him the gift, “from me to you.”

—

“grape juice, huh?”

“of course. he likes it, after all,” kaeya answered as he sat by the christmas tree, wrapping paper, scissors and tape scattered all over the floor, and then he pointed to the leather-wrapped object beside him, “but this makes everything better.”

“a book? it looks beautiful,” you commented.

“no, a photo album. to capture memories we used to store old mementoes and photos in old boxes, but now that kameras are getting more and more common than ever, I decided to get one like this. see?” he grinned, displaying its opened pages before you, “it has these cases to protect and preserve the photos inside.”

“oh, kaeya,” you kissed his cheek, “it’s wonderful. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

event taglist (please send an ask if you’d like to be added!):

wishing everyone a happy christmas ❤️!

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weridpersonhelp · 2 years ago

Text

Red phone

Wally x reader

warning: slightly scary, first-time horror writter, stalking, confusion, gramma and spell mistakes, screaming, getting up a horrible hour of night, neurodivergent reader, slow burnish? more fanfic then x reader, children, puppets, curse langue, music, be ready for cringe!

“What in the world?” I rub my eyes trying the get rid of the sleep as I am woken up by a loud ringing noise coming from downstairs, I groan loudly as the ringing continues. I cover my ears with my pillow in an attempt to stop it or at least muffle the noise but no! it just would not stop, it felt like it was getting louder instead!

The noise of a creaking old phone was the worst sound I have ever heard, that is after the sound of nails against a black board. It felt with each ring my ears were getting closer and closer to the ear drum bursting! I Stormed down the stairs pulling up my silky shorts, so they don’t fall while walking down the stairs at night. Walking to the kitchen I pause at the sudden sense of danger; my gut was saying something. My body just froze in place, and the hairs on it stood tall. The red phone, it was the red phone that was ringing. I had never seen or heard it in my whole life, yet their it was ringing on the kitchen counter. It stood out compared to all my grandmother’s appliances. The kitchen was a light minty green with the wood being the green and marble tops, My Grandma originally wanted wooden tops but explained how marble was cheaper back then.

The phone was bright red, a red you don’t commonly see unless it’s on Tv or on a plastic toy. I stood they’re like an idiot or better yet a dear in head lights. Watching as it rung, and soon enough it stopped. The over whelming of fear, and danger disappearing in an instant. I stare at the phone, noticing how old it must have been. Probably made in the 1950’s? 1960’s? it didn’t matter anyway the ringing stopped and I could go back to bed, but now my brain was fuzzy and awake. I need something to help me sleep, I sigh and put the kettle on and make myself a coffee. Caffeine did the opposite to me, instead of waking me up it made me sleepy like my dad. And with one sip of that coffee, and a small waddle up the old stairs and into my room I went out quicker than a light bulb.

But sadly, I woke up not just a few hours later to the cries of my brother, I sigh once again turning over in my bed and hitting my pillow in anger. But I couldn’t be angry at Jim, this was the normal hour he gets up at. I’m surprised My mum hasn’t noticed yet, but I’m not Angry at them right now. Just at that dam red phone. Slowly getting up I get ready for the day, full of. Well, what ever my mother has planed for me to do.

I leave my new room, and walk down the hall to the stairs, only this time they creek. I physically cringe at the noise but try my best to get downstairs, Once I do and make my way to the kitchen I see everyone already up. Including grandma, I walk over giving her a peck on the cheek and she gives me a small smile and asks.

“Good morning my dear! How did you sleep?”

“not very well, I woke up to a phone ringing. And found it hard to go back to sleep.” I explain taking a seat next to her at the dinning table across from my brother who I waved hello too. The small toddler notices my presence and gives me a wave and a bunch of gibberish which I’ll take as a hello. Mum placed some scrambled egg’s and bacon in front of me before pushing my hair back and kissing my forehead gently and sitting down next to me.

“Good morning sleepy head, you slept in! normally your awake before now.” Mum wasn’t wrong, I would normally wake up and take care of Jim myself sometimes, or at least make him breakfast. BUT. Since this was a Family Holiday, I could relax.

“Yeah, you alright kiddo?” dad asks me as I grab the BBQ sauce and shrug.

“meh overall, probably just still adjusting from the car ride. Anything planned for today?” I ask my family stealing a piece of buttered toast from the centre of the table before my dad.

“no not really, so you can do what you like today. Just don’t spend too much time on that computer!” Mum explains, I nod along and constructed my toast carefully, finally taking a bite it was like heaven, the sweet bacon, the salty eggs., the soft butter and toast with the crunchy crust! And the small amount of sauce. Just perfection I gobble it down and quickly went back for seconds, I can see from the side of my eye my mum shaking her head and grandma giggling.

“Gosh you and your father are so alike!” Grandma gushes and pinches my cheek gently.

“I know all she need’s in to be taller, different hair colour and more into the outdoors and we would have a female clone!” mum saying cracking up my nana even more, she almost sounded like a parrot with how loud she was.

“Yes, she gets her creativity from my Harrison! And her artistic talents come from both sides, right? Your mother was a painter, right?” The two continue their conisations and I take my plate up to the sink, I catch a glimpse of the red phone. Again, my gut was trying to tell me something, but it felt different as if someone was watching me. I shook the feeling off and continued to the sink.

‘Am I going crazy?’ I ask myself in my head as I wash up some of the dishes, dad drops his off along with Jim’s. Jimmy sat on his hip holding on to the 6’4 man who towered over everyone in the house, his height is something I wish I inherited.

“, honey I’ll tell you. Later, just remind me later to do so is that okay?” I raise an eyebrow at my dad who just smiles down at me, the question was what my dad wanted to talk about later. I know I shouldn’t press though, or I may never find out, so I just nod my head continuing to clean. He turns away before snapping his fingers and spins back to face me.

“Oh! Me and your mum are leaving are going out so you will have to baby sit Jimmy with grandma for a couple of hours to night,” “yeah that’s fine dad.”

_____________________________

Wally hangs up the phone again sighing slightly, opening the morning paper. to read.

"When will that Old woman answer?"

#welcome home #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home arg #welcome home puppet show #welcome home wally #welcome home wally darling #welcome home frank #frank welcome home #red phone

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antiquatedplumbobs · 1 year ago

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Christmas 1911

The holiday season at Sable Dairy was always a jolly, convivial time, with plenty of good food and fun to be had. Freddy's return from Britechester brought with it an increased energy and desire to make the most of the holiday.

The boys were tasked with finding and securing the perfect Christmas tree; selecting a fine fir from the small copse behind the farm. The assistance of a sledge was needed to drag it home, but once inside and garnished with a festive popcorn and cranberry garland it took up a dazzling countenance tucked up against the stair. The card table that usually sat there banished to the attic for the time being.

It would be a lie to say that none of the Sewells had a sweet tooth, and so a flurry of holiday baking was accomplished by both Violet and Elsie. Elsie, having recently discovered both a passion and talent for baking, had been allowed to build the annual gingerbread house unsupervised (with some assistance from Charlie). To Violet's delight, none of the pieces were broken, and only one had some small tooth marks that she was studiously ignoring.

A fine meal of roast ham, potatoes, vegetables, mince pies, and Christmas puddings was made by Violet. The family exclaimed that it was the best they had eaten yet; leftovers were scarce, despite the magnitude of the meal.

Under the tree, the collection of presents the family had gotten for one another was wrapped gaily in bright papers and festooned with ribbons. Will's present to Elsie was front and center; a wrapping job foregone due to the awkward shape and size. The small pram he had built, but the little mohair bear, the latest fad toy for young children, he had ordered himself from the Sims Roebuck Catalog, paying the fees with the money he had begun saving from the farm work and odd jobs he did. He had been right; the smile on her face had been completely worth it.

Violet received a teapot in a stylish new pattern. Charlie was gifted a wooden train set, each car hand carved by Will and the functional track built by Hamish. The bright paint job, with wheels that resembled the peppermint sweets Nathanial gave each of his grandchildren, was all by Violet's precise hand. Elsie received a new dress from her mother and father, with bright red embroidery and a snowy white collar; she donned it immediately. Hamish found a box of cigars under the tree with his name on them, but with a strict reminder from Violet not to smoke in the house. For Will, Hamish had purchased a sturdy and expansive tool kit, and for Freddy, a fine leather attaché to hold his school papers and a beautifully crafted fountain pen.

The day was long and filled with excitement and good times. The family perhaps stayed up later than they should, all except one that is. His father, once realizing his torpor, carried Charlie to his bed, where his dreams were full of trains made of gingerbread and passengers that bore striking resemblances to Christmas puddings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next / previous / first

#its Christmas in july everyone!!#i swear one of these days my in game season will match up irl....#ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 legacy #ts4 storytelling #sims 4 legacy #sewell legacy #william sewell #frederick sewell #elizabeth sewell #charles sewell #hamish sewell #violet sewell #sewell 1910s

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navibluebees · 2 years ago

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Home

Please read before interacting.

Ask from @bitchesforlife69 ! Edited and reposted. No clue why my phone went wild when I tried to correct something but, oh well.

"Could u write zdog x single mom reader who has to take her kid on the mission with them and zdog is watching them or something plz 🥺"

So excited for this one!

TW : mention of infertility

Zdinarsk was walking down the hall with her pack going to meet up with the other recoms when someone called out. “Excuse me? Can I get your help?” Her head swiveled around until she backtracked and poked her head into an office, seeing you, another blue human/Na’vi hybrid waving your fingers at her. She warily stepped in and saw a few packs set on the desk and then nearly tripped over a small wooden child’s toy.

You grimaced and said, “Sorry, they tend to get left everywhere. Thanks for stopping. I assume you’re part of the recom team?” A nod from Zdinarsk. You stuck out your hand to shake hers. “Y/N. I’ll be accompanying you today.”

She grasped your hand quickly and said, “Zdinarsk. These packs coming with us?”

You nodded. “Gotta have my supplies in case something happens.”

She cocked her head, ears twitching toward rustling under your desk.

You leaned down, arms reaching under and coming back up. Her eyes widened, seeing a small Na’vi body in your arms. The child wiggled against you, babbling and patting your face. He turned to Zdinarsk, intrigued by a new face and handed her his small toy car.

“Uh. Are they coming too?” she asked.

“He is my son. He goes where I go.” You clutched him close, soothing and picked up a wrap off the desk, twisting it and tying it around your body to hold him close.

She nodded and picked up the heaviest of packs, slinging it over her back. “So.. what’s your job?”

“Trauma surgeon when I was a human. That’s the reason they brought me around again. Figured my skills could be helpful especially if there’s any plan to go up against the Na’vi in the future. Just patch up the humans and send them back out again to mess things up again. He’s a bonus of the new body.”

Zdinarsk tilted her head, a bit confused but nodded, following you out of the room.

~~~

After meeting up with the group and introducing yourself, you hovered near Zdinarsk and climbed carefully into the helicopter. You packed the bags away and moved into your seat, putting a pair of headphones over your son’s ears. His face scrunched up, unhappy with the unfamiliar sensation and you cooed gently to him, tapping his nose with your finger. He gave you a bright toothy smile which you returned. You glanced up, feeling eyes on you and Zdinarsk met your gaze offering a kind smile.

~~~

When the helicopter landed, you climbed off, thanking the other recoms who had helped unload your packs. You slung yours over your shoulder, another on your back and Zdinarsk took the third. It definitely felt like overkill but if something happened, you’d be glad to have it.

You readjusted your son on your chest as he squirmed around. Zdinarsk waited for you to follow the group, her hands on her weapon pointed down. You fell into step beside her and she kept glancing your way, her presence impossible to ignore. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

She winced, embarrassed, and said, “Sorry. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I was just wondering how he got here?” She gestured to your son.

You grinned at her. “So I don’t know that you are aware of this, but I was the first recom. I had valuable skills and they wanted to see if it would work. Figured they’d give a test run on someone useful to them so if it succeeded then I could work closely with the recoms that came after. Then, they asked be if I’d be open to artificial insemination. I went for it. My human body wasn’t capable of conceiving and I was interested in having children at some point so I figured why the hell not? They did an egg retrieval pretty much the same way as you would back on Earth, combined it with male Na’vi DNA they used back then to make the avatars, put back it into me and boom. About a year later, this guy comes into the world. They wanted to see if these bodies would be capable of successful pregnancies and so.. here we are.”

Zdinarsk’s eyes widened as you finished your story. “Damn.”

“Pretty much!” You burst out laughing and she smiled at the way the sunlight came through the trees, highlighting the stripes on your face.

~~~

“So.. how do you feel in this body? I know as a soldier it’s been helpful to have more strength but I know it might be different for you.”

You glanced at your fingers, balling them into fists. “I feel a bit useless sometimes. There’s not much of a need for me at the moment, but I almost wish it would stay that way. I know I’m supposed to care more about humans.. but for about 2 years, I’ve been alone. A few people woke up earlier from cryo and my body had developed enough for it to be pulled and have my memories put in. So I was the only big blue around here. Until you guys.”

“Shit. You got pregnant pretty soon after you woke up, then?”

“Yeah, those days feel so hazy. I know I made the right choice for me and I can’t imagine not having him here.” You squeezed your son closer. “But I wish I could have had someone there with me. Who really understood how lost I felt at the time.”

She nodded, walking with you in companionable silence. Shouts broke the silence ahead and the two of you sped up a bit, coming into an area tangled with roots. Ja was sitting on the ground, his knuckles clenched, groaning. Wainfleet relayed that he had stepped into a sinking mossy area, fallen and twisted his ankle, breaking the skin on a sharp rock as he fell.

“My time to shine, I guess.” You put your pack down, pulling your suture kit and bandages out of it. Everyone else dropped their packs, taking a minute to be without the weight. You untied your wrap, laying it across your packs and held your son out to Zdinarsk. A panicked look crossed her face. “Please, will you hold him? Just while I suture and wrap Ja’s leg. You’ll be fine. I believe in you.”

Haltingly, with slightly trembling fingers, she reached for your son and pulled him to her chest, which he promptly snuggled into. You smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “I won’t be too long.”

Zdinarsk looked down at the small child in her arms, careful of his queue and bounced with him awkwardly. She hummed quietly, lost in thought. She’d always been fun aunt material, nowhere near ready to be a parent. Holy- her nieces and nephews had to be grown by now. She’d missed so much of their lives. Tears streamed down her face and she turned away from the group, wiping them.

She held your son closer to her chest, murmuring gently to him. After a little while she sat down to rest against a tree, propping him against her bent legs. He stared at her, wide-eyed and curious. His little hands gripped her thumbs and he squeezed so tight.

“Quite the grip, little guy.”

“Yeah, his mouth hurts like hell, too.”

She startled, not having heard you come up beside her. You wiped a few beads of sweat from your forehead and crouched beside them. Looking up at her, you noticed her eyes were swollen. “Hey, you okay? I’m sorry if I put too much pressure on you to hold him.”

“No, I promise it’s not that. I was just thinking about my family. How they probably don’t even know I’m alive and if they did… what would they even think?”

You nodded in understanding. “We are not who we were. This is our home now. Our world to protect. Our People.” You smiled down at your son, before your face hardened, looking back to hers. “It is only a matter of time before we are disposable to the humans. I will not allow that to be the world my son grows up in. He will never be a weapon wielded by another’s hand.”

Zdinarsk shuddered, chilled by your words.

~~~

You sat with Ja for most of the afternoon while everyone else mapped the area and learned more of the terrain. He was very sullen about getting hurt so early on. Thankfully, Na’vi bodies had a slightly faster rate of healing. Warren hovered nearby as protection if needed. Eventually, your son fell back asleep and you rocked him until it was time to go back.

~~~

Zdinarsk helped you with your bags on the way to your office, putting them on the countertop near your desk. You gathered up your shower bag and a foldable bassinet for your son to nap in.

“What are you doing?” You paused, turning at her voice, ears flattening.

“What do you mean? I’m going to shower.”

“And you take your kid with you?”

You frowned, tail flicking in irritation. “There isn’t exactly a Na’vi child daycare around here.”

“Well.. yeah you’re right but I mean, I could watch him.. if you’re okay with that?”

Your ears perked up. “Really??”

She nodded. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I’ve got some experience with my nieces and nephews and babies like me a little bit I think.”

You walked to her and squeezed her biceps, and a blush creeped up your ears as you felt the muscles under her skin. You shook your head to refocus and met her gaze. “I am seriously so thankful. I haven’t had much help and- anyway, I’m grateful. Come on.” You turned and walked to the door at the back of your office, opening it to a Na’vi size studio apartment.

You hurriedly cleaned your couch off. “Sorry. Obviously wasn’t expecting a guest.”

Zdinarsk waved you off, looking around the room, not expecting such a homey feel. She walked to a screen that rotated through photos. One came up with you right after birth, smiling at your son. Her chest buzzed with warmth and she turned back to you.

“Here’s the remote. Watch whatever you want if you want. Toilet is over there if you need it. Just press the red panel on the wall to open the door. I love this space for us but it’s pretty inconvenient they couldn’t fit a shower in it too. I’ve got him in this crib, if you’ll just sit with him, he sleeps pretty well and I’ll be back in a bit. Thank you so much.”

~~~

It had been an everything shower. You were scrubbed, renewed and felt like you were floating down the hallway. You opened the door to your apartment quietly and smiled softly when you saw the scene inside. Zdinarsk's hand was resting against the bars of the crib. Your son's fingers were stretched to touch hers and his other hand was balled into a small fist. Zdinarsk was asleep, head lolling back on the couch, mouth open.

You covered her up with a blanket and sat beside her to read on your tablet, turning the light down so it wouldn't bother her. She leaned in closer to you, head rolling onto your shoulder. You started to shift and she mumbled grumpily in her sleep, curling into your side. You huffed softly and settled beside her, pulling the blanket over you as well. As you sat, hearing your baby's quiet coos and felt Zdinarsk's warm breath on your neck, you wondered what a family could look like in this strange world that had become your home.

#recom zdinarsk #recom z dog #avatar way of water #avatar recoms

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water9826 · 10 months ago

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Cursed Guardians (A JJK Fic)

AO3 Link

Start Here

Some say that leaving is harder than staying.

Getou Suguru thought that was a complete pile of shit.

Ever since he became a jujutsu sorcerer, Getou has been wanting to run away and never come back. However, he had stayed because he felt some sense of duty to protect innocents from horrific curses. In all honesty, Getou didn’t really care about saving people, but he had no other options besides joining Jujutsu High. To make things worse, his parents would not allow him to even consider a career that was not in sorcery. It was practically a universal rule that anyone with a cursed technique must become a jujutsu sorcerer. A job that only leads to early deaths. A job to protect weak monkeys that are not even grateful for being saved.

The hatred he held for non-sorcerers had always been there from the start. It simply hadn’t been as noticeable. When he was little, he had felt such envy for children that were only expected to run and play. For Getou, he had to learn how to consume curses without throwing up while other kids his age got to eat as many sweets as they wanted. He was forced to consume the most revolting thing on the planet because it was his duty . It was for the ‘greater good’ as he would be the one to save countless lives. Even as a child, Suguru felt no responsibility to save those weaker than him. He only agreed to do so because he thought there were no other things he was allowed to do. The disdain within his very soul grew vaster by the day as he observed how abominable the ‘innocent’ really were. One memory that stood out to Getou, even now, was when he had helped an old man cross the street. The man was cranky and rude, whacking his eleven-year-old self with his wooden cane repeatedly, and yelling at him to ‘hurry the fuck up’ since cars were beginning to honk at him. Although, it was the old geezer who walked like a broken wind-up toy, not Suguru. After what felt like years, he and the man finally made it to the other side of the street. The old trash bag wrenched his arm from Getou’s gentle hold and walked away, not a single ounce of gratitude given.

He remembered how angry he had felt with the old man’s ungratefulness. All that he could think of when he got back home was how he should have let the man get run over by speeding cars. In fact, he had pictured himself pushing the man into oncoming traffic, causing him to laugh so loudly that his father had yelled at him to be quiet.

After a few years of becoming a proper sorcerer, humanity had yet to impress him. When he left for Tokyo, Getou kept telling himself that he had to save the weak and that Jujutsu High would show him why non-sorcerers are worth saving.

Suguru never got that answer.

During his time as a jujutsu sorcerer, Getou was the one that was kind and patient to all. He had to remind his fellow first-years that they were here to save people. Shoko was uninterested in everything while Gojo saw himself as above everything. Now, as a third-year, Shoko had stopped being so uncaring, but Getou still had to lecture Gojo on the value of the lives of non-sorcerers. All of his lectures to the other teen were nothing but lies. Getou had simply spat out the constant nonsense his parents would teach him about helping the weak and being a ‘hero’. Useless drivel that Suguru never believed in. He could not figure out why he had been so insistent on reminding the infinity-user of why he had to put the lives of the weak before his own.

His short time with Riko and the traumatic encounter with Zenin Toji had been Getou’s breaking point. A young girl was killed because she had been randomly chosen as the new Star Plasma Vessel, a role Riko admitted she hated. She had cried about wanting to live a normal life again, but her life was snuffed out by Toji. The man that still haunted Getou’s dreams. He will never forget the sheer horror he felt when the man stabbed an already exhausted Gojo, who was vulnerable from not sleeping for days, the moment he released his Infinity. Before Getou could retaliate, Gojo insisted that he take Riko to Tengen’s abode and that he would be alright even as blood poured out of his wounds. Getou had listened to his stupid friend, only to have Toji shoot Riko and brag about killing Gojo. The rage that overcame him was indescribable, but it was no use against the sheer might of Toji. When Yaga found him and had Shoko heal his wounds, Getou could only think of Gojo, someone who Getou was dangerously attached to, and how he must have died scared and alone.

Only Gojo didn’t die. When Getou had seen his friend carrying the corpse of the young girl they had both grown fond of, something changed between the both of them. The concern Getou had towards Gojo’s poorly healed wounds was overshadowed by the unease he felt when he saw the void of emptiness that had appeared in Gojo’s eyes. While they were as stunning as always, they carried a hollowness to them. Gojo, who did not know what an inside voice is, softly murmured to Getou about how he could kill everyone in the room and not feel a single thing towards it. His voice was cold and lifeless. It disturbed Getou, but the second his words settled in Suguru’s mind was the moment his distaste for non-sorcerers grew into pure hatred.

There were people in the room, quite a lot, and Suguru had not noticed them. Each person was adorned with white attire and had a bright smile across all their faces. They even had the audacity to start fucking clapping at the death of an innocent girl. They cheered and praised them, their applause growing deafeningly loud. However, any words those monkeys had to say meant nothing to Getou nor Gojo. Internally, Suguru was screaming at himself to let Gojo kill these worthless lives. Instead, Getou told Gojo not to kill them because a jujutsu sorcerer needed a reason to end someone’s life. Bullshit.

He would regret that decision for the rest of his days…

Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring

Banana phone!

Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring

Banana phone!

I've got this feeling, so appealing-

An annoying song suddenly blasted through Suguru’s room. Instantly, the teen knew who was calling him. Gojo had stolen Getou’s phone one night and put embarrassing ringtones on each of his contacts. The one currently making Getou’s ears bleed was the song Gojo had given Nanami, which was a stark contrast to the younger’s quiet nature. However, his annoyance at Gojo and the noise vanished when the implications of Nanami calling hit him like a truck.

Nanami never called anyone unless it was for something important. Even those calls were few and far between. What disturbed Getou even more was the time Nanami had called. It was three in the morning. The underclassman refused to interact with anyone after a certain time, and three hours past midnight was definitely not in the blonde’s time slot for socialization. Once again, another realization came to Suguru, Nanami had been sent on a mission with Gojo to fight a possible special grade curse. The decision was idiotic, but Yaga had stated that the higher-ups demanded that all new sorcerers get as much field experience as possible. It was a horrendous decision and was out of Yaga’s hands, but the principal had made Gojo swear to protect Nanami at all costs and to retreat the second Nanami’s life was in danger. It was one of the rare moments Gojo was serious, firmly assuring their principal that he would make sure to look after the underclassman.

Had something gone wrong?

The possibility seemed so outlandish that Getou nearly laughed, but his unease only grew. With a heaving breath, he picked up his phone and answered. “Hel-”

“GETOU-SAN! WE NEED YOUR HELP! THE SPECIAL GRADE IS…THE SPECIAL GRADES ARE TOO POWERFUL FOR US TO HANDLE! GOJO-SAN IS REALLY HURT! GET AS MANY REINFORCEMENTS AS YOU CAN! PLEASE, GETOU-SAN! WE NEED-”

Before Nanami could finish, the call ended abruptly with an unholy screech in the background.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“ FUCK !” Getou pulled on the long strands of his hair, tossing his phone to the ground. Why did the universe hate him so much?! He had been ready to defect from the jujutsu world forever and carry out the plans he had been creating for the past few months. What little belongings he had were packed up. Suguru had been in the middle of checking his more crucial supplies as he would likely be without housing for an indeterminate amount of time. While he did get lost in his thoughts as he packed, Suguru had made the decision to leave long ago.

He was supposed to leave in the next hour. If he ignored Nanami’s terrified pleas, Suguru would make it to his train on time. Getou would leave everyone and everything behind to finally have his plans to rid the world of non-sorcerers become a reality. His classmates would be fine. Nanami was probably exaggerating since it was his first encounter with a special grade. He did not know that Gojo would always come out on top.

But Nanami sounded so scared…

Getou shook his head harshly, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. Nothing would make him stay in this horrible school any longer. Nanami would be fine. Gojo was with him. He would be more than safe with the strongest sorcerer.

Nanami said Gojo was hurt-

“NO. STOP IT. SHUT UP!” Getou snarled to himself and banged his fists against his skull. There was no need to get involved. He was leaving. NOTHING would make him stay. Suguru had enough of being a jujutsu sorcerer. He’d never be one again!

Nanami said special grades. There was more than one.

“HE’LL BE FINE! SHUT UP!” Suguru closed his eyes as he reprimanded himself again. He was LEAVING for fuck’s sake! This is what he had been preparing for for months!

The screech that he heard before the call ended was utterly demonic.

“I. AM. LEAVING.” Getou was sure he woke someone else up with his yelling. In his current state, the teen could care less.

Nanami reached out to him first, not Yaga or the higher ups. Him.

“STOP IT!”

Nanami didn’t deserve to die.

“STOP!”

He picked up his phone, preparing himself to throw it against the wall or have one of his curses eat it. Before Getou could even move, his phone started blaring a familiar tune.

EL PANADERO CON EL PAN!

*HONK HONK*

EL PANADERO CON EL PAN!

*HONK HONK*

That was Gojo’s ringtone.

Getou’s eyes opened wide in shock. He still held his phone in a vice grip, ready to shatter it against the wall. His arm began to tremble violently, and he could feel his eyes burn. If he answered it, Suguru would miss his train out of Tokyo. If he answered it, Getou might not ever gather enough courage to leave again. All he had to do was click a fucking button, and he’d never have to think about Jujutsu High again. Never again.

The song continued. The song that he and Satoru sang whenever they finished a particularly exhausting mission. It was a random song they had found one day, and it was a song they would both sing to annoy Shoko or Utahime. Getou had never laughed so hard when Satoru started singing it when Yaga brought a sandwich to class one time.

EL PANADE-

Fuck it. With no further hesitation, Suguru clicked the answer button and pressed the phone against his ear tightly. “Satoru?”

“SUGURU! THANK GOD! WE NEED YOUR HELP!” Gojo’s panicked voice made a pit form inside Getou’s stomach. Throughout all their time together, Suguru never heard Gojo’s voice sound so terrified . He was the strongest. Nothing should be capable of scaring him.

Right?

“What? What happened?!” Dread made its way into Getou’s voice.

“The special grade w-we were sent to exorcize…It’s not normal, Suguru! There are several of them, and I can’t hold them back anymore! I don’t think my Infinity can hold out any longer! One of them is so close to getting through! I…I CAN’T BEAT THEM, SUGURU! I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH!”

“Sato-”

“PLEASE. I KNOW Y-YOU’RE NOT FEELING GREAT, BUT I NEED YOU HERE! NANAMI IS GOING TO FUCKING DIE BECAUSE OF ME! LISTEN, W-WE’RE AT AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE IN SENDAI! Y-YOU’LL KNOW IT WHEN YOU SEE IT! JUST HURRY–FUCK! ONE OF THEM IS GETTING THROUGH! PLEASE HURRY-”

That same demonic screech was heard before the call ended. Getou looked at his phone in horror. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, was terrified and begging for help with curses that should be a breeze for him to deal with

For the past several weeks, Gojo and Getou had been given their own special missions as Gojo had gotten so powerful that he could handle any grade curse on his own. They had been separated. It used to be that Gojo and Getou were the strongest when they were together. Not just Gojo.

And he was showing more fear than Suguru had ever seen in the normally unshakeable teen.

“Dammit, Satoru!” Getou breathed deeply to calm the whirlwind within his mind. His plans would have to wait. After this, he was leaving and never coming back. No more delays.

With a quick text to Shoko, telling her to alert everyone about the emergency occurring in Sendai and that Gojo and Nanami are in critical danger. He immediately got a response, but he didn’t bother to read it. He tied his hair back and began running through the halls. Once he felt the cold night air against his skin and the scent of dew-covered grass, Getou summoned a curse he had purposely absorbed due to its ability to go at supersonic speeds. It took days to catch, but he eventually succeeded. He had planned to use this curse to take him to the train station across town, but the world hated him. The large, spiked curse waited obediently for its order, sharp teeth drooling and blue fur raised in agitation. Suguru petted its snout and mounted onto the creature's back.

“Go. Go to Sendai.” Suguru commanded firmly. He did not need to speak verbally for the curse to know what he wanted, but he still tended to say his orders out loud.

Instantly, the curse shot off into the sky. It could levitate, which made Getou arrive at his destination even faster. His grasp on the curse’s coarse fur was so tight his knuckles turned white. The speed of the curse made harsh winds cut into Getou’s skin. He could barely breathe, but he refused to stop now that he had gone this far. The closer he got, the worse the unease in his gut became. When Gojo had said he would know it when he sees it, he had thought he would need to look for a while to find the vague location Gojo had given him. However, the Infinity user’s words held truth to them. Cursed energy that Getou had never sensed before washed over him, feeling like he had been doused in ice cold water.

Due to his cursed technique, Getou knew things about curses that would make the most seasoned of sorcerers break. When he absorbed a curse, knowledge of the curse’s previous atrocities and perverted thoughts flooded into Suguru’s mind. He would see the curse’s memories and feel its feelings as if it were his own. Over the years, Getou had figured out which curses would be the grossest to ingest and how to prepare his mind from the onslaught of evil the absorbed curse would wrought.

The cursed energy Getou sensed caused every alarm in his head to start blaring. A mantra of WRONG WRONG WRONG flooded his very being. To call it cursed energy would be a blatant lie. Getou knew the ins and outs of cursed energy more than anybody else. Whatever he was sensing wasn’t supposed to exist.

His curse stopped at the broken doors of the warehouse. Suguru dismissed it, only for his body to freeze at the entrance. The sounds of battle could be heard clearly, he even heard Satoru’s labored breathing and Nanami’s pained grunts. They needed help, and they had both called Suguru for his aid over anyone else. Despite knowing this, Getou’s body refused to move. Besides the sounds of his classmates’ exhaustion, what had caused the teen to become paralyzed was the screech he had heard at the end of both calls. Immediately, he knew that this creature was the cause of the feeling of wrongness.

It’s just a special grade. It’s probably making me hallucinate these strange energy signs. Suguru used rationale to calm his beating heart and frantic mind. Every instinct he had was warning him to not enter, but he was already used to ignoring them. As he reached for the handle of the broken door, an explosion brought the entire warehouse down. He used a curse with several shells on its back to shield himself from the flying debris.

When the smoke cleared, Getou was met face to face with what he could only describe as demonic.

“SUGURU! MOVE!” A bloodied Gojo pushed him out the way before the entity could blast him with a beam of purple energy. Familiar purple energy. Getou’s body had frozen again as the abomination started screeching again. Before it could lay a clawed hand on either of them, Gojo’s Infinity flickered to life. It was the weakest Getou had ever seen it. Gojo was trembling like a leaf in a storm to maintain his greatest defense. His friend’s enchanting eyes locked onto his, fear staining the mosaic of blue within. “My Infinity is gonna break any second, so I’m really fucking glad you’re here. Listen. Big birdie over there? Looks like he has my technique and his is stronger than mine ever was! And one of his friends snatched Nanamin! Which is really really bad!”

Before Getou could start asking an onslaught of questions, the entity broke through Gojo’s barrier like it was as easy as going through air . Gojo grabbed Getou’s hand, dragging them away from the rampaging beast. They , the supposed strongest , were hiding behind a thick tree that had not been damaged by the blast. Due to Gojo’s superhuman speed, they had put a sizable gap between themselves and the creatures. With the distance, Getou got a better look at the entity and the other entities behind it.

They truly were beings that had spawned right from Hell.

In the center of the ruins of the warehouse stood a group of six nightmarish abominations. Two of them were underneath a large tree, both surrounding an object of some sort protectively. The one that was curled around what looked like a bundle on closer inspection was using its body as a shield. It took on a feline-like appearance with dark purple fur and a dark rectangular stripe on its snout. Each paw was covered in a hard coating of crimson with each wicked claw being just as large and sharp as a sickle. Black spikes shot out of its back like a deadly mane, rattling in an intimidation display. However, what made the spikes truly forebody were the many spheres of condensed blood above them, ready to be shot out at a moment’s notice.

Such a creature to have the Kamo clan’s hereditary technique was mind boggling to Getou, but he could not afford to ponder on such things. His attention was on the bundle the feline was… protecting. Every curse he encountered had never missed the opportunity to attack. While special grades were more unpredictable and intelligent, they were still just as or even more aggressive as weaker curses. These things were in a formation . If the demonic cat wanted to kill them, it would have already shot out the beams from the heavily condensed blood. Instead, it did nothing, not even growling. In fact, the cat was emitting a rumbling purr that could be heard from all sides as it nuzzled the bundle it was wrapped around repeatedly, its attention completely on whatever was inside. An impossibly tiny hand reached from the bundle to touch the feline’s nose before said feline nudged the tiny appendage back into the bundle. When it was seemingly satisfied, the creature snapped its head towards Getou. The hatred and resentment in its dark eyes could not be mistaken for anything else. Somehow, this feline entity that he had never seen before was glaring at him as if he was the most detestable person in existence. It was not the stare of an aggressive entity, this hatred the cat-demon held for him seemed personal.

What the hell were these things?!

Seemingly done with his staring, the creature closest to the feline used its large body to shield the cat and bundle from Getou’s view. Now knowing that an infant was inside, the behavior of these entities made more sense, yet it confused the dark-haired teen at the same time. The aggression being caused by protective instincts was easy to acknowledge, but the thing causing said protective instincts to emerge was too strange to accept. Curses killed humans. Yet these creatures were doing anything but. The canine-like entity that was now preventing Getou from observing the baby and demonic cat any longer was glaring at him as well. To say it was large was an understatement, the beast rivaled a full grown bear in size. It had a heavy coat of light brown fur with black swirls throughout that resembled the stamens of a flower. Additionally, it had a necklace with a rectangular pendant and a white sash wrapped around its back. The accessories were strange, but Getou found himself paling when he saw the beast’s face. Its eyes were boring into his with a calculating look. As if sensing his unease, the monster bared each of its sharp fangs, releasing a rumble that could be felt within the very ground. A skull of an animal Getou did not recognize adorned the beast like a helmet. The skull covered the beast’s large snout up to the top of its head, and it had two massive tusks jutting from the upper jaw with the lower jaw being bisected. Giant fangs protruded from the demon’s real jaws. A red-tinted liquid drooled from the thing’s mouth, burning the ground once contact was made. It was clear that this muscled sharp-toothed beast was the bruiser of the group. One of the last lines of defense if anyone got too close to the bundle.

From what Getou could gather, the entities were in a formation that would prioritize the infant’s safety over anything else. The fact that no attacks came from the group of monsters, proved his theory. None of them wanted to stray far from the tiny being they were guarding. Gojo seemed to notice the pause in attacks as well, the white-haired boy using the time to try healing himself. However, the Infinity user was struggling to cease his shaking hands and heaving chest. His eyes were open wide, the terror inside them had yet to fade.

Getou placed a hand on the trembling teen’s shoulder. His soft touch made Gojo flinch violently, something that the affectionate teen never did. This encounter was making Getou see too many ‘firsts’ for Gojo. He did not like it in the slightest. “Satoru. It’s okay. I think I figured out a way for us to win.”

No response.

Truly disturbed now, Suguru hid Gojo and himself further behind the tree. Their bodies were now completely hidden from the front. With no reaction from the beasts, Getou quickly pushed Gojo into a sitting position and began to examine him. There must be something happening to make Gojo so exhausted and so shaken . Gojo had been working constantly on improving his technique and to have it just break was startling. The first thing he did was check Gojo’s cursed energy levels. If Gojo was truly exhausted and at his limit, his amount of cursed energy would be incredibly low. If his levels were the same, then something was affecting Gojo’s mind instead of his body.

Suguru placed a hand on Gojo’s chest, he closed his eyes and looked for the blinding sun that was Gojo Satoru’s cursed energy. What he found made him wrench his hand as if it was burned.

There was not a single change in Satoru’s energy levels.

While it was in Gojo’s nature to prank Getou, he knew that the wounds on Satoru and his fear induced state were not faked. Furthermore, Gojo would never endanger Nanami and scare the younger to this extent for a joke.

It seemed like one of the creatures had caused powerful hallucinations for Satoru, somehow getting through his Infinity technique. Getou had a feeling he already knew the source of Gojo and Nanami’s terror. The entity with the hellish screech had caused Getou to become paralyzed in fright. Looking back at Gojo, he remembered the teen’s earlier words.

Big birdie over there? Looks like he has my technique and his is stronger than mine ever was!

The special grade w-we were sent to exorcize…It’s not normal, Suguru!

I CAN’T BEAT THEM, SUGURU!

I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH!

No other curse had been able to break Gojo in such a way. The expressive teen did not let anything or anyone get under his skin. Even the incident with Toji and Riko hadn’t broken his friend this much. He had used the trauma and grief from the aforementioned incident as motivation to grow stronger. Satoru was not the person to become catatonic in the face of danger. Gojo was the type of person to flirt with or make fun of the deadliest of special grades and laugh at their reactions once they realized they were no match for the strongest.

The closest Getou got to seeing Satoru shut down like this was when one of the elders from the Gojo clan came to visit Jujutsu High. It was for a ‘performance check’ on the young first-year sorcerer. Yaga had announced it during breakfast with a sympathetic glance towards Gojo before leaving as quickly as he came. Gojo nodded and had gone quiet for once and left the table, his food untouched. Shoko and Getou wasted no time in running after him, which was difficult considering Gojo was the fastest being on the planet. They had found him sparring with one of Yaga’s training dolls. The cursed corpses were reinforced with runes and enchanted metals, but they might have been made of paper to Gojo. A sizable army of cursed corpses littered the smoldering ground. In the middle was Gojo, who had not even broken a sweat. The teen had grabbed the next cursed corpse, a giant spiked monster that was several times larger than Gojo, and tackled it to the ground. Satoru started ripping at the fabric of the enchanted cursed corpse, tears of frustration pricking the edges of his eyes. Just as Getou was going to say something, Satoru screamed and tore the plush in half with his hands. He began punching at the cursed corpse, using his cursed energy to burn the doll into ashes. When Gojo had finally realized that he had an audience, he put on his classic annoying grin and made several jokes to make his friends irritated enough to forget what they had seen.

Later that day, Getou and Shoko would see Gojo be tested in various obstacle courses and battles that the Gojo clan elders hand selected for Satoru. The elder observing it all criticized every little thing Gojo did, shaking his head in disappointment each time. Even though Gojo had won in every tournament and completed each obstacle course in record time, it was somehow not good enough for the Gojo clan. At the end of the day, the elder scowled at a tired Gojo. He crowed about the importance of the image of the Gojo clan and how crucial it was for Gojo to be absolutely perfect so no one would ever consider that Gojo Satoru wasn’t the strongest. Satoru had spat on the floor next to the old geezer’s feet and told the elder to fuck himself with the clipboard he had been using to record his observations. The elder shook his head again. His next words made Shoko, Getou, and even Yaga want to kill the man as painfully as possible.

“I feel so sorry for your mother. She did not deserve to die to birth such a useless mongrel like you. Perhaps the regret of having such a disappointment was what truly killed your father and not his illness. This meeting has been quite eye opening. Thank you for reminding us to never expect anything worthwhile from you, boy.”

With that, the rotten old man left. Gojo had been frozen in place until Shoko had placed a hand on his shoulder with Getou holding Satoru’s hand. They led their fellow first-year student into Shoko’s room. As Shoko went to find her secret stash of candy and soda, Getou had placed Gojo onto her plush bed. Before Getou could let go of Gojo’s hand, the white-haired boy held Suguru’s hand with an ironclad grip. Gojo had muttered something that was too quiet for Getou to understand, but it sounded sad enough for him to lay on the bed with Gojo and hug him. Immediately, Gojo latched onto Getou like a koala and cried into his chest with his lip wobbling violently from the sobs Satoru was refusing to release. When Shoko came back with her goodies, she silently joined the two on the bed and rubbed Gojo’s back in soothing motions. When Gojo stopped crying, he went limp in Getou’s hold, but it was clear that the boy did not want to be let go any time soon. Shoko put on one of the trio’s favorite movies on her phone and passed snacks to each of them. Gojo had not eaten for the entire day, so he got the lionshare of the snacks, eating them quietly as the movie started. The trio would eventually fall asleep and would wake up with Yaga telling them to have a day off. While the three had only known each other for about six months, it was the best day of their entire lives.

It seemed like anything relating to Gojo’s family or his well hidden insecurities got to him the most. Getou let his thoughts mull over in his head before he risked a glance at the demonic entities.

All except one had moved. The cat-thing still had its Piercing Blood attack ready to fire at a moments notice, but it was currently occupied with soothing the now fussy infant. Getou still had no clue on why such creatures would show such care for a baby. Why were they so protective? Where did they come from? Where did the baby come from? Who are the baby’s parents? Was the baby stolen or is it actually an entity like them?

Too many questions and too little time. Getou glanced at two other entities that he hadn’t noticed yet. One seemed to be made entirely out of black sludge and was vaguely shaped like a human with spiky hair. It leaned down and summoned a pair of green dots as eyes. The baby let out a giggle as the shadow monster shaped its strange eyes into various animals. One moment there was a pair of wolves then another there was an elephant. As the baby shrieked with laughter, the cat was able to bundle the baby up again with its head sticking out this time. The eyes of the shadow blob returned and were squinted in the way a regular person’s eyes are when they’re smiling. A rose then dangled in front of the baby, swaying gently. The rose originated from the other creature next to the shadow entity. It resembled a marionette that had its strings snipped with how its head and arms hung limply. The metal creature was wearing a long, dark blue skirt with a long sleeve button up of the same color. A rose bush grew out of the left side of its featureless face. Where an eye should be, there was a blood red rose in full bloom. Each of the thorns along the bush and vines looked like nails. It was jarring to see the greenery of the plants be intertwined with metal nails. Several vines wrapped around the creature’s left arm, following the vines would lead to the rose it was hanging in front of the baby. The puppet-like creature had no real hands or feet. Each limb ended in a sharp point like, well, a nail. The only soft thing on the creature was its ginger hair which was hung to the side due to the limpness of its neck. A happy coo left the baby as the metal being continued to move the rose in soothing motions. In response, a soft trill left the entity even though it lacked a mouth.

Eventually, the baby fell asleep with its watchful guardians surrounding it…Or should it be they? Was the baby a human or something else? These creatures were unsettling, yet Getou found himself utterly fascinated by them. They had intelligence and emotions that he had yet to see in a curse.

Enough intelligence to figure out the only way to make the strongest sorcerer of the modern era turn into a shaking mess.

“Gojo?” Getou turned back to his friend, who had yet to say a word. He felt relieved once he noticed Satoru’s steady breathing and ceased shaking. Even so, Satoru had yet to acknowledge him. Suguru knelt in front of Gojo and was surprised to see that Gojo’s eyes were as wide as they were before. Has he not blinked? Pushing his shock aside, Getou held Gojo’s head in his hands, staring into his eyes for any answers to what was afflicting Gojo. Satoru’s eyes had always been Getou’s favorite thing to look at. They had a clarity one could only find in the purest of waters. Every shade of blue imaginable seemed to be present in Gojo’s eyes. It reminded Getou of the ocean that Riko and Gojo had been messing around in. The sapphires Mei Mei had shown them when she let them look at her collection of gemstones. The sky he, Gojo, and Shoko would spend hours staring at, trying to find the best shaped cloud. To put it simply, Gojo’s blue eyes were enchanting.

They weren’t blue anymore.

“Satoru? Can you hear me?” Getou tried his best to hide the trembling in his voice. The eyes he adored were clouded over, the brilliant blues dulled to a lifeless gray. If it wasn’t for Gojo’s calm breathing and heartbeat, Suguru would have thought his friend had died. He shook all thoughts of death aside to focus on figuring out what was happening to Gojo. As he looked closer, Getou noticed the rapid expanding and shrinking of his pupils. They were pinpricks at one point and completely blown out a second later. Additionally, his eyes were shifting around, likely in an attempt to look in a different direction. The movement was so subtle that Suguru would not have noticed it if he wasn’t so close. This was necessary, so Getou knew better than to start blushing at their proximity. The pink flush on his cheeks proved otherwise . He shook Gojo to try snapping him out of the strange trance he was in. “Gojo! You asked for my help, right? I know how to get us out of here alive. We’ll get Nanami-kun back too.”

“...Nanamin.” Gojo murmured. His pupil became pinpricks for the twentieth time, and the teen began to shake his head repeatedly. “No. Nononono. Stop showing me this…He’s alive…”

“What are you seeing, Satoru?” Getou asked gently. His friend seemed to be breaking out of whatever was plaguing his mind. If he kept prodding, he was sure Gojo would become aware enough to snap out of it.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Can you try describing it?”

“There’s fire…lots of fire…”

“Anything else, Satoru? You’re doing so good so far.”

“A box…A big box…It’s really dark in there…”

“A box? Are you alone in the box?”

“No…Lots of skeletons…”

“Wait-Skeletons?”

“Yeah…They’re all dead…’Cause of me…”

“...Who is dead, Satoru?”

“...Everyone…”

Any other questions Suguru had were ignored as Satoru returned to his catatonic state. He sighed as he let go of Gojo, helping the teen rest against the tree. The bird-like creature Gojo had mentioned was the most concerning of the entities. If the creature really had Gojo’s technique, then all of Japan would be in danger. It seemed impossible for something to have Infinity and Six-eyes without garnering the attention of a single jujutsu sorcerer. More so, Japan was still intact.

Nothing about this situation was right.

Getou stood, clenching his fists. He looked back at Satoru, trapped within his own mind by a monster neither of them knew how to beat. “I’ll be right back, Satoru. Just stay put, okay?” With that, Getou stepped out of the safety of the tree and placed himself in the direct line of vision of the demonic creatures.

Immediately, each being snapped their heads toward him and stiffened. The demonic cat used its long bushy tail to cover the bundle completely, wrapping around the infant. On each side was the shadow monster and the metallic entity, acting as a shield for the two behind them. In front of the pair was the canine-like beast he had seen earlier, snarling at Suguru viciously. Next to the beast was a new creature Suguru had not noticed. It resembled a mummy from the spotted fabric covering its body. The black spots on the fabric were shifting around as a sign of irritation. Its entire left side was made of a black metal of sorts, which had cracks throughout. Within the cracks, a fiery substance was contained. The spotted fabrics around its throat were different from the white of the other bandages. One wrapping was yellow with black spots while the other was blue without any designs. A pair of glasses with yellow lenses were set firmly on its face. A sharp cyan light emitted from the left lens. The light was aimed at Suguru and narrowed in a supposed glare.

“I’m unarmed. I don’t want to fight.�� Getou raised his hands in a placating gesture. It was a partial lie, but he was at least telling the truth about not having any physical weapons on him. He concealed his cursed energy as best as he could in case the entities could detect it. Suguru adorned his gentlest smile and voice. “You have one of my friends in a powerful trance and have taken my other friend. I only want their freedom, nothing else. I will leave once I have my friends back. No harm will come to you or the infant you’re guarding.”

There was a chance that the entities could not understand what he was saying. Three of them didn’t have mouths and the other two were more animalistic in appearance. He kept his hands in the air and stayed still. Any sudden movement could make the creatures view him as a threat. Though, they already looked at Getou with such disdain that he was sure that none of them saw him as something remotely positive. He had yet to see the sixth member of their group, the one he needed to speak with the most. Suguru had remembered counting six shapes before Gojo had dragged him away. He did not get to have a good look at the entity responsible for breaking through Gojo’s Infinity, the familiar purple blast, Gojo’s powerful trance, and the bloodcurdling screeches. It was supposed to be bird-like, and the creatures before Getou did not resemble that description.

With each second passed, the tension grew more and more. Sweat formed above Getou’s brow. His other classmates were incapacitated, so he would have to face the monsters alone. He pushed down the overwhelming concern he felt for Nanami, who had yet to see. Gojo said one of them had taken him, but Suguru hadn’t heard any sounds of struggle. Nanami was young, but he was extremely durable and never went down without a fight. To hear nothing made a weight sink to the bottom of Getou’s stomach. If these were curses, Nanami would surely be dead. However, these entities were something else entirely, so there was a chance that Nanami was still alive. There was also a chance that something worse had happened to Nanami. The rising stakes worsened the tense atmosphere.

“ H̷̘̓͆ȩ̵̾͗h̴̻͕͘e̴̗͑̈h̵̨̛̿ͅė̵̮…̶͉͐H̶̗̱̾ǫ̷͠ẃ̶͕ ̸̣̕ȧ̵̖d̷̰̏o̷͉̍r̷̤̖͝à̸̱̙b̶͍͚̀͐l̴͙͒e̸͓̝̒̆ .”

Suguru felt every muscle in his body freeze.

The air suddenly became so cold that Getou could see each of his shaky exhales. A dark fog enveloped the entire area. He knew he needed to protect himself and summon one of his curses if he wanted to live, yet he stayed still. A terror that Getou had never felt before spread throughout each nerve, each cell, each atom of his body. It felt like the doom prey would feel when they accidentally entered the territory of the most powerful predator. They weren't supposed to be there, but they will never get the chance to leave.

He had never felt so powerless.

A clawed hand cupped Getou’s cheek, draining his face of all color at the icy touch. Getou’s knees trembled as he stared into the black abyss in front of him. The hand on his face was pure white like a twisted ivory sculpture.

“Ş̴̧̾̽ǫ̶̎ ̷̼͋͝s̴͉̑ç̷̘̽̍a̸̪͛̑r̴̛̻͑é̷̬̝d̵̟͕̃̕…̶͕̖͋T̶͖̜̽h̸̝͠a̴͍̫͋ť̸ͅ’̷̫̈s̸̺͒ ̵̪͓͋h̶͈͑͆ì̷͔ͅl̴̻̯͛a̷͓̳̓̂r̴͇͠i̵̞͘ö̵̭́̕ṵ̵́s̶͇̅̑!̴̱̪̾”

The voice was incredibly distorted, barely decipherable, and it made Getou forget how to breathe. Its teasing tone was familiar. So familiar. Getou refused to acknowledge the similarities due to the utter wrongness of the voice.

"Ì̵͔t̷̹̽’̴̬̩̇s̵͎͗͐ ̵̺̝̕r̵͎̞͝u̶̹̳̐d̴̫͚̏ȅ̴̫̝ ̶͔̼̓̈́t̶̨́ͅó̷̜͙ ̸̰͖̃͠ī̵̫g̵̦̅͆ͅn̴͇̂͛o̷͔̿r̶̜̃ḙ̸͋͝ ̶̢̹̂s̷̘̎̿ó̸͈m̷̨̀͘e̷̱̿o̴̜͌n̶͔̩͂̂e̶̝̎…̷̟̻̊̊O̸̖̽p̵̞̫̏͘ẻ̶̦̹n̷͔̈ ̷̦͕͌y̶͇͖͛ȯ̸̤͎͐u̷͕̽ȑ̵̡͎ ̸̱́e̴̞̥̒͠ȳ̶͕e̵̢͝ş̸̱̓̈ ̷͈̐͒f̸̟̟̉o̵͎͘ͅr̶̢̈́ ̸̺̓͘ṁ̴̻͝e̸͍̓,̵̹̈̈́ ̴̲̆̊ḧ̶̠̝ṁ̶͎̕?̷̣͆̃”

Despite not noticing when his eyes closed, Getou squeezed his eyes even tighter. The hand was now starting to comb through his hair, releasing the messy bun he had haphazardly made earlier. Its gentle motions only disturbed Suguru further. He wanted to run away. Fuck, he was supposed to be far away from Tokyo! If he hadn’t answered their calls, he would not be in this predicament! Any frustration Suguru could muster was squashed by the terror suffocating him. He now understood why Nanami and Gojo had been so horrified over the phone. The other entities looked like puppies compared to this monstrosity. Its long fingers moved from his hair to his eyelids. Somehow, even more fear pierced through Getou like a spear built from the darkest nightmares of mankind.

“ Y̶̮̑̕ȍ̵̱u̷͇̬̿͠ ̵̱͒̈s̶̰̻̾̇ā̸̮̙i̶̱͐̀ḓ̸̐ ̸͎͒y̴̢̱͠ô̵͕u̷̪̍͝ ̶͇̃̾w̶͔̥͐̇o̴̯̓n̴̹̹̍͝’̴̦̻͝͝t̴̯̭̽̉ ̸̺̓̾h̵��̃a̷̢͑ṙ̵̲m̵̭̃͜ ̷̧̽̎u̸͚̽š̵̨,̷̩̳͆ ̶̡̟̀s̸̛̗̈́ọ̸́ ̵̙̚I̵͉̺̍̓ ̶̧͓̇w̶̮̮̐́ọ̶͙͐͝n̷̖̋̅’̴͔̱̑t̷̙̍͝ ̴͚̃̌ḧ̴̝́ȃ̶͚͙r̶͈͓̄͝m̴̻̲̋ ̵͈̱̕y̸̠̿o̴̠͊ų̴̾ ̶͕̐͘e̷̘͝ỉ̷̭t̶̘̠͑̄h̴͈͐͑e̸̙̅͛r̶̤͑.̵̨̦̓͋ ̴̘̽̾ͅI̸͚̓ ̸͈̖̀s̷̨̹̈́̐i̸͓͍̐́m̴̲͛p̵̺̈́̊ľ̷̡̐y̵̜̭̔ ̷̤̏w̷͚̯͆͝a̷̢͉̋n̶̠͉͠t̶͚̞͌ ̴͙̤͆t̸͉͔̀ö̸̱̞̌ ̸̞̄t̸̻͗͌a̵̡̓l̷͙̲̾k̴̢͙̅̋ ̶͖̜̈́t̷̯͈͂o̷̲̐͗͜ ̷̻̇ý̸̖ͅo̸̬̦̓̍u̷͓̹͊̚.̶͇̀ͅ ̷̧́́Y̵̪͆õ̸͎̺u̷̳̍ ̵̝͈̅w̵̫̌͝e̸̤̠̅r̸̞͎̓e̷͎̭̽ ̶̥̂ș̴̚o̵̬̬̎͂ ̶̠̻̏͝ě̷̡̄ȃ̶ͅg̷̰͋ͅĕ̶̛͔ṙ̴͉̣̃ ̴͓̈́ͅb̶̙̏͊ẹ̵̩́̇f̸̹̿̈́o̵̫̍͋r̸̗̜̈́ẽ̶̠͕̚,̶͚̍͠ ̸̺̝͒̏ǹ̵͓ọ̷̈́͊?̶͕̈"

If his body hadn’t locked up, Getou would have collapsed by now. The hand moved once more, placing a single claw on his forehead. It traced a line across his forehead, moving back and forth endlessly. While the touch was incredibly gentle, Suguru knew that it would not take much for the claw to draw blood. The claw could probably cut his entire skull in half!

“Ṣ̸̆h̷̒ͅh̸̡̎h̷͍̍.̶̘͗ ̴̼͑Ṇ̵͝ô̸̱ ̶̺̀n̵͒͜e̸͊͜ȩ̷̓d̸͇̎ ̶̧́ț̸̆o̸̫͑ ̷͚͑b̶̝͝ȅ̶͙ ̴̠̒s̷̳͗o̷̳͗ ̷͔͑s̴͈̀č̵̢a̸̠͒r̵̯̋ḙ̷̀d̵͍̋.̴̝́ ̶̜̀Y̵̟̐o̴̜͛u̸͔͆’̸̲́r̷̼̉e̶̙͌ ̵̨͠ȳ̸̭o̴͎͝u̴͎̐!̵̰͑ ̸̼̀Ǹ̷̩Ò̶͇Ṯ̷̓ ̷̨̣̟̟̖̮͕̘͖͑̅̾͐̄͊̈́̔̚ͅh̷̲̞̥̪̠̳͈͖̩̺̤̘̠̓́̈́̃͗̆̒̒͑̚͜ ̵̳̹͙̼̗̦͉̯͖̘͔͒̓̔͝ĩ̵̧̛͖̞͕̬͍̌͒́̋͒͘͝͝ ̶̛́̏͛̈́̽̅͋͛͛́͘̚ͅm̸̮͇̗͇̺͔̩͉̼̬̻̳̾̔̍͛ Ì̷̥ ̵͕̓d̴̥̓ǒ̷̼n̶̤̂’̷̱̀t̵̠̓ ̸̋͜w̴͚̃a̴̻̍n̵͔̍n̸̟̔ā̵͈ ̴̫̓k̴͚̆ī̶̦l̸͉͗l̸̗̅ ̸̜̌y̶̹͝o̸͔̓ù̵̻.̷̨̛ ̸̙̈́J̶̼͛u̵̘͠s̴͙͌t̷̙̿ ̴͖͗o̶̺̿p̷̤̌e̸͙͑ṋ̴̉ ̷̙̚t̵͉̄h̶̓͜o̷̤͘s̷̜̾ẽ̵̮ ̶̘͐e̴͚͆y̷͉͆e̴̗̔s̸̫̋,̴̩̔ ̶̲̍ö̸́ͅk̴̺͊a̸͈͝y̴̬͛?̵̗͒”̶̪͌

At face value, the request was harmless, but Suguru could detect the commanding tone hidden underneath the cheery voice.

With his body screaming at him to not listen to the demonic presence, Getou complied. His eyes hesitantly opened, blinking rapidly to clear the spots from them. He tried looking down, but a cold hand grabbed his chin and tilted it upwards.

“Ţ̴̝̐̀̓h̷͕͕̟͂ḛ̶͍̥̂̅͒r̸͍͈̟͝ę̸̯̓̒ ̷̭͍̱̎̂̆w̵̠͔̣̆e̶̻͇̹͛̕ ̶͈͚̪̽ǧ̴͎̈́̐o̵̖̮̮̿!̴͛̈́ͅ”̶̯̟̤͐"

Getou gasped and tried to step back, but the grip on his jaw was too tight to escape from. He had no choice but to look at the figure that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Eyes. So many eyes stared at him with differing emotions. Suguru could not keep track of the countless eyes boring into him. The hand that had been gripping his face retreating into the black void surrounding them. They looked exactly like Satoru’s. To see those eyes he adored become so twisted and wrong caused a hollowness in his chest. The largest pair of eyes was looking at him with joy and mischief. Said pair moved around unlike the others. It must be attached to the body of the creature hidden within the thick fog. He needed to do something. He had wanted to talk to the sixth entity. He could not stand there like an idiot! Move!

“Ḯ̴͖t̴͖̀’̵̻̓s̶͖̆ ̴̹̽ä̴̻́l̴̡͝r̵̳̓ḯ̶͖g̸͇̓ḩ̸͠t̶̙̒ ̵̲̀t̸̳͐h̵̙̀ä̵̠ẗ̸̗ ̶̱́y̷͙̍o̴͖͒ủ̷͔ ̵̯͒c̵̘̑a̴̠͛n̷̨̽’̴̺̌t̴̜͋ ̷̹͘m̷̗̀o̶̙͘v̷̛̺e̴͍͝.̸̜̊ ̶̳͝N̴͕̔o̷̻͗ ̶̧̒h̶̺͊ṷ̷̎m̷̲̉a̶̰̓n̸̜̽ ̶̟̇c̶̗͂å̴͙n̷̔ͅ,̸̮͒ ̶̘͛w̷̲̿ḧ̷̤́ì̴̠c̷̠̿h̶̥͊ ̷̹͝ĩ̶̼s̵̡̔ ̷̠́ŕ̴̙e̶͉̊a̵̮͒l̵̫͘l̵͚̾y̵̱̕ ̶̩̍b̶̼̓o̴͈͋r̵͚͑ī̷ͅn̶̮͛g̵̗̾!̵̘̔” The glowing blue eyes rolled with annoyance. Quickly, its childish demeanor became serious. Each eye adopted the same seriousness. “ Y̸̹͆o̷̱̿u̶̟̿ ̴̟͠ḓ̴̛o̵͂ͅn̶̗͒’̶̦̿ẗ̵̬ ̶̼̍ạ̸͝ç̷̾ț̶̾u̴͔͂a̴̛͎l̵̻̍l̸̩̂y̵̻͆ ̵̣̚n̶͚̿e̵̱̾e̵̯̾d̶̫͘ ̶͔̆t̴͖̃o̵͓̽ ̸̟͊t̶̼̍a̵͔̽ĺ̷̗k̷̥͗.̴̜͊ ̴̡̈A̷̠͝l̵̖̈́l̵͈͗ ̴̜̊I̷̙̅ ̷̳͗n̶̳͆e̴̮̎è̴̤ḑ̷̚ ̷̥̈y̵͕͆o̷͕̓ṷ̷͝ ̷̰̚t̷̼̄o̶̫̽ ̴͖̓d̴̨͗o̸͉̽ ̶̒͜i̸̍͜s̴̯͋ ̴̮͗l̶͕̄i̷̙͑s̵̨͑t̶̥̂e̶̬͝ǹ̶̲ ̶̲͠ẗ̵̡o̵͙͆ ̸̙̐m̵̡̽e̷̢̾ ̵̨͊a̵̝͋n̵̲͒ḏ̴͝ ̸̳̚k̷̭͠e̶͕͘ḛ̵̓p̷̬̃ ̷̟͐ẙ̷̫o̶̱̿u̷̱͆r̵̨͛ ̶̰͗ě̸̠y̶͈̅é̶͈s̶͇͒ ̷̙̐ö̴̜́p̵̺̈́e̴͕͂n̸̫̍.̷̨́ ”

“Why?” Getou spat out with more force than intended. His chest heaved as the word left his mouth. Horror overcame him as he realized he’d offended the eldritch horror.

Instead of becoming enraged, a giggle left the creature. “ I̵̪͂ ̸̭̓s̶̀͜h̷͎͝o̵̢͝u̵͇͘l̶̰͊d̶̩̈ ̵̹̅h̶̞̄a̵͇͒v̶͇͋è̴̲ ̵̠̋ḙ̵́x̸̲͂p̸̙͘ḛ̵̈c̵͑͜ṱ̷͗ĕ̷̮d̷͈͝ ̸̦́ý̵͚o̷͔̍u̵̧͠ ̶̧̎t̶͍̎ȍ̴͍ ̸͉͛a̴̳̎s̵̥̐k̸̙̄ ̸͙͐m̸͖͊e̶̛͚ ̸̙͌t̶͎̓h̶̟̏a̷̳̾t̴̩͒.̵̧̏ ̷͚̉S̶̖̈́o̶̘̓ ̵͓̈́c̷̳͂ű̶͜r̸̡̐ì̸̱o̸̼̾ư̶̞s̴̟̅ ̶̰͝l̸̰͝ì̶͙k̶̺̀è̵̺ ̶̙̾a̶͈̐l̷̨̂w̷̭͝a̴̗͌ẙ̴͍s̸̨̈!̵̻̕ ̷̣̾Y̷̧̚o̸͐͜u̶͉͝ ̴͈̀h̶͖͝a̸͎͌v̸̥̿e̶̠̚n̶͉͠’̵̱̋ţ̵̓ ̷͙̋c̷̪͠h̴̙͛a̷̜͠n̷̈́͜g̵̮̀ḛ̴̐d̷̟̂ ̶͎͘.̷̙̿”̴̨̀.

Suguru immediately noticed the odd wording. He continued to push his fear to the side with his need to learn more. “How do you know me? You’ve been talking to me like I’m a long-lost friend or something.”

“ Ṭ̷̦͈͇̹͕̯̜͛̉̍͛̾͝h̶̞̼̪̠̞͕͒a̸͈̮͓̝̾̈́ţ̵̀̈́͋̇’̸͈̔̈̓͛̉̊̀̊̃͊͝ş̷̝̥̤̖̲̮͖̞̠̔̓̏̈́̅̏͊͜͝͠͝ ̷̠̣̞͊̂̚b̸͓̝̻̫̯̼̬̙̳̫̒̒̈́̈́ẻ̸̡̡̗̙̼͍̀̉̈̔̚c̶̹͕̮̥̫͕̠̲̄̿̋́͊̓̍͝͠͠͝ą̴̛̘̝͙̜̯̜̱̰ṵ̷̼̏̋̌͒̾̍̃͆̕͘s̶̠͓̞͔͉̑̏̏̒͘͠e̴̱͈̺̮̜̠̟̞̲͒́̈́͋̉̎͠ ̴̢̱̯̹̩͕̀̂̀̅̓̋̋̀͆̌ͅy̵̭̻̩͆̔̿̒o̶̖̙̟̯͈̻͛̐̈́̉̇̓͘͠ụ̶͖͍͈͇̬̺̲̋́͆͂̅́̉̚ͅ ̷̺̋́̀̏͊́̃̕̚͠a̸̻̖͍̖̤͍͆̈́͑̿̈́͑̄͂͘͝͝ŗ̶̝̰͉͚̗͎̱̻̺̔́̈̈́̀͘ê̴̝̱͙̔̍̓̀͌̈́̿̏̉.̶͚̐̊̇̍̈̇͗͝͝͠”

All the eyes surrounding them disappeared, only the main pair remaining. Two white, spindly limbs stepped out of the shadows with the talons of a bird of prey at the ends. A sharp, hooked beak poked out at the same time, curled into a menacing smile. The beak was ghost white and serrated at the edges. As the creature moved further from the cover of fog, Getou felt his heart stutter as the monster fully revealed itself. White hair sat atop the entity’s head, followed by a black mask that covered its eyes. The mask wrapped around its long neck, ending in two tattered ends. The body of the creature reminded Getou of his rainbow dragon, who had been sliced in half by Toji’s blade. Unlike the curse, the entity’s body was split into five segments that were connected by an invisible force. The head and neck made up the first segment, the second segment was just the front legs, the creature’s lanky torso was the third segment, the back legs were the fourth, and the creature's long, smoky tail made up the last segment. The white hair on its head grew down its body like a fluffy mane, only stopping at the legs and tail. Feathers were mixed with the fur on its back. The feathers were easy to spot with their length and varied between three colors: blue, red, and purple.

The draconic creature was massive and towered over Suguru. Its size dwarfed his rainbow dragon, who was one of Suguru’s largest curses. At this point, Getou was surprised his heart was still beating considering the amount of horror gripping said organ. He should have died from a heart attack by now. His hands trembled violently as he tried to raise them. His death was imminent if he didn’t summon an army of curses. Maybe he could try Maximum Uzumaki-

“A̸̘̔h̷͎̄.̷̇͜ ̸͈͑A̵̦̋h̵̟̕.̴͚͌ ̸̮͊A̶͖̒h̷̡͆.̶̺͂ ̵̘͘Ṉ̵̈́ǒ̵̲n̸̜̔e̵͉̎ ̶̥͝ö̵̧f̸̮͋ ̷͖̇t̸͎̋h̸͕͛a̶̠̓t̷̝͐ ̷̥̉ņ̵͊o̴̧̽w̸̜͗.̷̳͐ ̴̩̓Y̸̥͐ò̵̜u̵͍͆ ̴̙͌s̴̫̓ḁ̷̅i̸̹͠ḍ̶͝ ̴̔ͅy̷̥̐ŏ̶̡u̶̝̅ ̴̝̔w̷̳̓e̸̼̐r̷͈̈́ḛ̶̍ ̸̮̍ù̴͈ǹ̶��a̸̋͜ř̴̨m̸̧̂e̶̦̚d̶͈̕.̷̦̓ ̵͔̓O̸̬̔r̸̟̒ ̷̣͛w̸̳̏a̷͇͛s̷͇͊ ̷͖̓t̴͍̓h̸̢̕a̷̛̰t̷̬̕.̸̱́a L̷̛͙͍̭̦̝͚̬̪̳̉̑͛̌̓̋̈́͊̀͘ ̷̛̗̙̙̜̹̠̀̉̉̑̃̔̚͜͝ͅͅI̸̧̠̱̹̜̗͕̲̜̬̅̈̎͋̽̅̃͗̀͘͜͝͝ͅ ̵͖̠̻̝̯͙̥̜̈́̓̀̊͠Ḙ̵̡̧̤̗͉̬̻͈͆̂͗͜?̶̢̛̹̩͓̟̫̪͔͓̊̑́̊̈̏̕͜ͅ

Like a peacock displaying its vibrant feathers, the demon’s tail spread out to the fullest. Despite being made of black smoke, the entity could control it perfectly. All the eyes that had disappeared from the void he was in reappeared inside the creature’s tail. While a peacock’s feathers were meant to show off their beauty to impress a female, the unholy abomination’s tail was used to show off the indescribable power it had with each eye promising a painful death. It let out a shriek of laughter, which Getou immediately recognized. It was the same shriek over the phone.

Those shrieks were not made from an infuriated monster.

It was laughing .

Its laughter was familiar. Its white hair. Its cursed energy. Its color scheme. Its voice hidden within the distortion. Its eyes.

No other being was capable of having the same eyes as-

As if a flip was switched, everything now made sense to Getou. The identity of these beings. The reason why they had appeared out of nowhere. The answer to their protectiveness of the infant. It came from an old myth, but the details were too similar to ignore. These creatures were far from cursed spirits or demons.

Getou looked at the creature before him with an entirely new perspective. A smug grin split the sharp beak of the entity. When it spoke next, the distortion was completely gone from its voice. Its voice was clear and undeniably belonged to-

“Yo, Suguru!”

Where a beast had stood, there was now a lanky man with a black blindfold over his eyes. He was littered in deep cuts. There was blood pooling from a large slice in his stomach. His hand was raised in a friendly wave.

Getou couldn’t breathe.

The man smiled.

“Heh. I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Everything turned black.

Yaga knew his life would never be easy as a jujutsu sorcerer. In fact, he was the principal of a damn jujutsu highschool. If anything, he did this to himself. He expected his patience to be tested in every way, he expected to never be able to take a break, and he even expected to become a pseudo-parent to each of his traumatized students.

He did not, however, expect to be woken in the dead of night by Shoko throwing a water bottle at his face.

“WAKE THE FUCK UP!” Shoko then immediately realized her error. “Shit. I meant to pour water on your face.”

“THE BOTTLE IS NOT EVEN OPEN, SHOKO.” Yaga was wide awake now with a throbbing nose. He pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose, already sensing an oncoming headache. While the man was angry, he knew that Shoko would not do such a stupid thing without reason. “Explain why you needed to wake me up at this hour. Now.”

“Well, I don’t want to be awake right now either, but Getou texted me saying that there is an emergency going on with Nanami and Gojo, so he went out to help. You know that shouldn’t happen unless something seriously went wrong with their mission in Sendai.” Shoko had her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Unlike Gojo, she knew Getou was not a moron who would do pranks in the middle of the night. Dread was already pooling in her gut.

At her words, Yaga instantly straightened and got up. He adorned a serious expression. If Gojo could not handle the special grade curse, then something truly had gone awry with the mission. What’s more, Nanami was there too. Yaga wanted to bash himself in the head for not fighting against the council more about their reckless decision. Nanami was still grieving heavily for Haibara, a boy who had died far too young. He should not be forced to fight in such a state. Additionally, Yaga knew how stretched thin and stressed Gojo was. After the incident with Toji, he had noticed the changes in Getou and Gojo’s behavior. Getou had become more withdrawn than ever, and Gojo had bags under his eyes that rivaled Shoko’s. Both teens were traumatized, but the council seemed to make it their personal mission to work Gojo to the bone with the nonstop missions.

His frustration at himself had to be put aside as there was something more dire at hand. “I’ll gather reinforcements at once. Shoko, please prepare the infirmary while I’m gone.” He left without waiting for the girl’s response. It was a good thing he had stayed up late since he was still in his uniform. Yaga took his phone out to send various texts and calls to his colleagues. With a pang of guilt, Yaga woke up Ijichi, his young assistant, which caused the teen to yelp in surprise. Ijichi was a timid person, but he still wanted to help the jujutsu world. He became part of the very small staff in Tokyo academy. His superior driving abilities were what Yaga needed right now.

With little words spoken, Ijichi gathered himself and led them to his assigned car. Yaga had taken a moment to gather his most powerful cursed corpses for a possible fight ahead. The car ride was a blur to Yaga. Before he knew it, they had arrived at the site Yaga had sent the young sorcerers to. Gakuganji and his students arrived soon after. The older man had a frown on his face at the abrupt awakening. Two of his students, Mei Mei and Utahime stood next to him. Utahime was trying to rub the sleep from her eyes while Mei had a tight grip on her axe with a tense expression. Being called for an emergency did not happen in jujutsu. What happened more often was the sorcerer being killed before help could be alerted in the first place.

This situation was ringing alarm bells and waving red flags in Yaga’s mind. He ignored them and began walking into the remains of the abandoned warehouse. The forest around the group was relatively unharmed. No fire was leftover from the explosion. What concerned Yaga the most was the lack of any sound. It was too quiet considering who the mission was assigned to.

“Mei Mei, can you use your crows to find the students?” Gakuganji asked. He kept his face neutral, but his tone portrayed his apprehension.

“Of course.” The young woman smiled. She made a small flock of her crows survey the area. Sharing their sight, she could see the debris and bloodstains on the grass. There was no evidence that a battle was occurring with the calmness of the forest. Eventually, one of her crows spotted a large tree with a wide trunk. She focused on it and made the bird look behind the tree. “There they are. Follow me.”

“What conditions are their body’s in?” The question left Yaga’s mouth quickly.

Mei Mei hummed. “The three seem unharmed, but their clothes are damaged and bloodied. Perhaps Gojo-kun used his reverse cursed technique to heal them?”

“If Gojo had been able to heal them, then there would not be a need for calling us here.” He wished that was what had happened, but Yaga knew better than to give himself false hope. Something malicious had hurt his students severely enough to have Gojo incapacitated.

When Mei Mei led them to the young sorcerers, Yaga almost lost his composure. Next to him, Gakuganji was tense at the sight with Utahime hiding behind the elder. Despite her frequent squabbles with Gojo, Utahime did not hate him. Sure, he was annoying but never meant any harm with his teasing of her. New sorcerers were hard to come by with the high fatality rate. Most teenage sorcerers just starting in sorcery often died before they got the chance to learn and grow stronger. Utahime knew that her fellow peers were her only friends that could die at any moment.

Gojo, Nanami, and Getou looked dead.

The trio had been propped up against the tree in a sitting position. Each of their heads hung low as if they had fallen asleep. When Yaga gently tilted Nanami’s head up, ice filled his veins. Nanami’s brown eyes were wide open in a frozen look of fear. As he examined the other teens, he found that they had the same ailment. They were all breathing, thankfully, but they were in a trance that they could not break out of.

Gakuganji and Yaga shared a glance. A curse powerful enough to bypass Gojo’s infinity and put the three sorcerers in this frozen state was still alive. If it had died, the teens would be aware and talking to them. Their cursed energy was at its fullest. ‘Tapped off’ so to speak. It served to greatly confuse the adults. The only sign that a battle had occurred was the tearing of Gojo and Nanami’s clothing and the bloodstains. Tension filled the air as the group observed the teens in varying states of concern. A fight to the death would be among them with the curse capable of harming two of his strongest students to this extent.

No one spoke as each readied their cursed technique or weapon. The curse was reported as a special grade, so they needed to be ready for anything.

The wail of a child shattered the silence.

“Was that a-” Before Yaga could finish, a powerful presence stopped any further words from forming. The energy was unlike anything Yaga had ever felt before. From the shocked look on Gakugaji’s face, the elder sorcerer had not either. Utahime felt Mei Mei’s warm hand squeeze her on her right shoulder. This caused Utahime to realize that she had begun trembling. Mei was the tensest she’s ever seen with her knuckles turning white from the grip on her axe.

In an instant, several entities appeared from the shadows of the trees. Mei Mei suppressed a shiver at the creatures managing to hide from her crows, which had never occurred before. The small group were all frozen once they got a better look at the creatures. They now could see why it was an emergency as these were not curses. The monsters had this sense of wrongness that disturbed the sorcerers to their core.

Six creatures stared at them for a moment before launching into action. A row of nails were shot at them with pinpoint accuracy. Without his battle hardened reflexes, Gakuganji would have died instantly from a nail to the head. He took out his electric guitar strapped to his back and readied his hand to strum the strings. A spotted bandage wrapped around his arm and yanked it so hard he felt his shoulder dislocate. He let out a cry of pain.

“SENSEI!” Utahime tried to go to her elder, but was stopped by a tongue wrapping around her legs. She looked behind her and saw a frog made of black goop restraining her. Her disgust was replaced with fear as the large amphibian began to retract its tongue, pulling her into its mouth. The girl dug her hands into the ground to resist the pull. “MEI MEI! I NEED HELP!”

Said girl snapped her head to the scared voice of her friend. She summoned a crow to pierce the frog’s tongue, cutting it off. As she did so, a nail flew past her face, cutting off a section of her braid. Mei Mei tried to find the creature who was shooting the nails but was interrupted by a wolf biting her in the leg. She shouted in pain as the sharp teeth of the shadow creature tore into her left calf. The girl made several of her crows kill themselves to deliver multiple Bird Strikes to the wolf.

Meanwhile, Yaga had released his cursed corpses to overwhelm the three beings attacking the others. The brief distraction allowed Yaga to see the source of the cry. It was a baby that had two snarling beasts guarding it. The canine-like creature barked, making one of his curses pop in front of him in the midst of charging. A powerful punch from the doll winded Yaga, but he quickly redirected it to the beast. The baby could become a casualty if Yaga didn’t do something. However, his small glance at the terrified infant made several beams of blood pierced through Yaga’s shoulders and thighs. He heard cries of pain. When he looked behind him, he saw the beams had not stopped once stabbing him. They had struck Utahime in the face and Mei Mei in the stomach who were the closest to the trajectory of the attack.

The demonic feline that had shot the condensed blood was growling and spitting at Yaga. It had a murderous rage in its eyes. The beastly canine returned and attempted to bite the man. He tried to dodge, but the prior attack had immobilized him. Once he felt the monstrous teeth make contact with his arm, he felt agony surge through him

Then the baby began to cry. All the creatures stopped their attacks immediately. Yaga fell when the blood piercing him was retracted viciously. Five of the creatures were curling around the infant who had begun wailing. The sixth creature seemed to be made of dark fog and covered its companions with six eyes glaring at the injured sorcerers. His heart sank as the wails of the baby grew louder. He was certain the monsters were about to eat the infant, but he was proven wrong. The cat began purring and the mummy-like entity placed the baby in its lap while using some of its bandages to stroke the baby’s irritated skin soothingly. The canine placed its large head next to the baby and rumbled deeply. The shadow entity and the being made of metal sat beside the distressed child while emitted soft chitters.

It was a display of the concern and love the entities had for the baby. It could not be mistaken for anything else.

As the crying continued, Yaga noticed black markings start to show up on the baby’s smooth skin. Very recognizable markings.

Could it be that-

“Shit! It was not supposed to happen today!”

A man with pink hair ran past the sorcerer, uncaring of their wounds. He was muscular and wore casual clothing. The bag the man had been holding was thrown to the side as he rushed to the infant. He scooped up the baby and cradled the crying baby close to his chest. His honey-colored eyes were wide with an unreadable emotion as he held the infant. When his gaze locked onto Yaga, who was the closest to the group of monstrosities, the honey of his eyes darkened into crimson. Black smoke enveloped the man quickly. Once it faded, a ten foot entity stood before them. A demon that was the source of nightmares for the eldest of sorcerers, who should have been forgotten. He was only dressed in loose black pants with his tattooed chest on display. His four arms were thick and covered in tattoos. The upper pair was holding the baby more gently than a monster of his might should be able too. A trident was held in the bottom pair of arms which were adorned with thick claws. He looked at the sorcerers with disgust, sneering at them. “How pathetic.”

His voice was a deep rumble that made Yaga and the others shiver in fear. His four crimson eyes continued to look down upon the group. “You pitiful maggots are quite lucky that I have much better things to do than waste my time confronting such weak beings. I will give you a chance to improve, so I can actually have a fight that won’t make me die of boredom. Find me if you wish. Until you do, get stronger so I won’t be this disappointed again. Fail to entertain me, and I will have this world shaped to my liking. You will not be in it. Take that as a warning. The only warning I’ll give.”

The creature that was made of black fog covered the other vile creatures and the curse holding an infant that looked too much like the fallen god. The fog resembled a tornado with its powerful winds. Branches and debris hit the sorcerers in their faces. Once the small twister dissipated, an empty patch of grass met the eyes of the shocked sorcerers.

Three voices came from the tree where the trio had been placed. Gojo, Getou, and Nanami rushed to assist their companions. Their help was almost useless with the trembling of their hands. With effort, the three got Gakuganji, Utahime, and Mei Mei into sitting positions. Yaga stumbled to his students with blood dripping from his wounds. He refused to sit even with how his students pleaded for him to do so. “That was Sukuna.”

Getou nodded his head numbly. He suddenly held Nanami and Gojo tightly in his arms as he whispered. “Those were cursed souls. They’re real. And he…I thought…” His face screwed up in pain before he could finish what he was going to say. Suguru buried his head into Gojo’s hair and shut his eyes tightly. Tears filled the eyes of Satoru at the contact. Satoru nuzzled his head into Suguru’s shoulder as soft cries left the Infinity user, his face hidden by Getou’s long hair. In Getou’s other arm, Nanami was being held by the older teen as if the blonde would disappear. The usually stoic teen leaned his head on Getou’s free shoulder as he gently took Gojo’s trembling hands into his own, holding in his tears with a quivering lip. Nanami closed his eyes once he noticed the stares of the others, a single tear running down his pale face.

Sukuna had been resurrected under the radar of all sorcerers. There had been no reports or sightings of the curse king. He had vanished again after promising death if they disappointed him in any way. The entities accompanying him were cursed souls, a creature only heard of in old myths or around a campfire to spook people. Today, myth became reality. A very very bad reality.

The King of Death was back

Fuck.

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