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themotherofblood · 10 months

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CHAPTER 3 | RIVER OF GOLD | The Journey | T.L x Reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2

tw: mentions of rape and murder

~ the wedding was charming, if a little gauche ~

"My new home— it doesn't feel much of a home. It is foreign, I am foreign. I see it in the way the attendants glance at me, mayhaps my wild hair. A mythical creature trapped in a fine gown made of crimson velvet and gold. The beaches however are beautiful, sometimes I take off my boots and stand at the shore; salt water cools my feet and just for a moment. I don't miss home."

The journey had been swift, the preparations made through the evening with rows of wheelhouses and bannermen on horses, a joy parade to have Tywin lead his young wife to his ancestral seat. Ravens were sent hours before the blazing afternoon sun, to have your chambers thoroughly prepared and unpacked with your belongings. It appears Lady Genna Lannister had taken personal initiative to gather a toehold of handmaidens and a personal secretary for your coffers.

Your sisters had been tearful, puffed-mouthed poppets clinging to your skits with their dolls in hand. Nyela had fixated a minute glare upon your husband as he conversed with his brother in the Great Hall. The household staff gathered to see off their darling lady and liege lord.

"You swore you would take us with you," Ellia whimpers, "we supposed to visit Uncle Doran."

"We were supposed to," you correct, taking a piece of her loose behind her ear "I'm sorry darling." You engulfed her, the scent of lily soap so strong, it felt like engulfing your mother.

Nyela still clung to your back, small eyes—hooded and glaring at Tywin. When he turned to look at you, an amused frown settled upon his forehead as he looked to your hip.

"You're our sister, you stay with us." She grumbles, if her tiny ineffective fists could do anything, she wished she could drag you to your chambers and lock you in.

"I will write to Doran and Oberyn, they will come get you. Alright?" You crouched to meet their eyes, holding on one shoulder each.

Ellia, still pouting, buried her head in your shoulder, nuzzling the motherly warmth she often tried to find in your arms. Your brother walked over, having taken your brother from his nursemaid's arms and walked over to you. The boy, barely over two summers, had not a clue of why his siblings lamented for you. A stranger yesterday and now a stranger today, you held his little fist. Tracing over his face, the feathery touch of your fingers tickling at his skin making him giggle.

"I'd be a stranger to you the next we meet," you cooed as his tiny fist curled around your finger, babbling away at your hair sat by your chest. "You be good."

Your brother Olvyar turned to you next, a brotherly smile curling in his lips and eyes covered in guilt. You knew he felt terrible for stopping you from running, but in truth he was saving you from the cruel wrath of your father's pride—you were not his pride, even with his flesh and blood, you never would be. The one hard bone your father swallowed, even though Olvyar was his brother's seed sired by your mother. He was a son, a young man knighted and proud.

Olvyar for the longest time wanted nothing to do with your father's estate nor Westerlands politics, if he could. He too would have abandoned your father for adventure at sea with Oberyn, however seeing as though the only mere morsel of affection within Loren Maerilys was for him, you'd told him. Standing on your toes and pinching your older brother's teen puffy cheeks.

"You take care of us, you would be the lord of Deep Den." You hissed at him, hoping your brother would see reason beyond his boyish dreams

When you looked into his eyes, your own was looking back at you, just far more grief-stricken as yours were glossy. You opened your mouth, your form of a farewell was to be another lecture to your elder brother. He however chased your word back into your mouth as he opened his.

"I will look after them, and write to you at every turn of the moon." He reiterates, tilting his head just so as he looks down at you. "I will take care of them, I will be the Lord of Deep Den."

You held his arm, sternly nodding at him before pulling him to a half embrace. Squeezing his larger body so tight he had to set little Loren down to reciprocate.

"Don't let them be afraid, Olvyar. Don't let them be alone." You whispered, closing your eyes tight to fight away the tears threatening to fall.

"Never."

"My lady... it is time," Tywin called, standing with his hands clasped in front of him with a coaxing quirk to his brow and a forever stern disposition.

You bowed your head, to use your brother's chest as a shield as you wiped the salted drops away from your lash line before straightening yourself.

Dressed in a comfortable gown, devoid of fastened corsets or itchy gold hems to travel with ease through the eight hours of journey to Clegane Keep and then after a respite another four hours to Casterly Rock—your new home.

You offered not one look to your father as you walked out of the Great Hall holding onto both your sister's hands on either end. Your brother following behind as you were ushered to your carriage, you gave Deep Den one more glance; a superstitious tendency as you called to Mother Rhoyne for protection before taking the footmen's hand as he helped you into the sizable carriage. Reined in by eight horses, the wheelhouse was rather extravagant for such a short journey.

You settled in for a moment, sighing and resting your head against the plush velvet padded walls inside the carriage, your new home— you were married.

Perhaps even your bedding had made it so anxiously apparent on your skin that you no longer belonged to yourself, but to the crimsons and golds of house Lannister, to Tywin—

He had been rather aloof to your presence since the bedding last night, having made you feel so warm, an exasperating pinnacle and making you squeak at the strum of his fingers. Your cheeks burned hot even as you felt the gentle cramp within your claimed environs. Then this— your handmaiden Odiele found an odd form of compliment when Tywin's cupbearer had approached your lady's maids to inquire of your health.

You took that wholeheartedly as you had prepared yourself to break your fast, and then the waft of cold hit you. Not a word, not a word to you beyond formalities, it is at that moment your mind gave way to further past your bedding and to the ceremony feast. Your Daima Eldrã had told you, men often melt when their frigid minds crawl to their pillar. It was a deal, that was your marriage. You looked to your belly, wondering if a blonde child had already made a home there, waiting to spread within you and have you waddling about all fat and sweaty.

You were sure your mind had raced even harder than the dozen horses shifting in your riding party outside, however, the very man that clung to the crevices of your head peaked through the door of the wheelhouse. Pulling himself in and sitting opposite you, he glanced at you for a mere moment, the glint of questioning in your eyes that called to him. You thought he would ride with his brother.

"You seem displeased?" Tywin raised his brow, appearing defensive, perhaps irked by your reaction.

"No- I thought you were to ride with Lord Kevan, my lord," you muttered, still finding it hard to meet the steel green of his eyes, the frown perpetually etched onto his forehead often left you dislodged for your firm disposition. He did scare you, you would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing so.

"If that is what you wish, my lady." Tywin shuffled to the edge of his seat. His discontent was apparent, you had displeased him. He is your husband, he is trying, and you are trying.

"No- I, stay..." you stutter holding onto his arm "Please." You blurt out meekly.

He grunts for an answer, turning to the stained window as you shuffle closer to it, waving at your sisters clinging to Olvyar's side as the horses neigh, and the procession moves. The first carriages trot away from the moat bridge, and then your carriage moves. That unsettling dread fills your chest again, regressing you to a child of seven summers being sent as a ward to Dorne to your uncles. You gave up the olive greens of your house to the mustards of Martells and now you gave those up for the crimsons of house Lannister. Shedding skin after skin, no home would truly be yours, first the burden of your father then the responsibility of your uncles and now a child bearer for your husband.

Tywin should have travelled with Kevan, irked at his brother's attempts to find leisure in this match. Kevan had physically hauled his elder brother away from their carriage to yours. So here he sat, within the first hour of the ride. The carriage shielded both bodies from the chilled air outside but made the inside unbearably stifling with tension, you would meet his eyes, freeze and curl your lips to a tight smile before uncomfortably looking away.

A young thing so fierce he had thought, you cowered from within, a small sense of satisfaction within Tywin. Maybe you wouldn't try and strangle him to death at night, or stab him as he coupled with you. A Martell after all, a tinge of distrust was highly warranted of the Old Lion. What worried him even more was taking you to Clegane's Keep. A true test of your loyalty— what loyalty? It had only been two days since your wedding— he could picture a torn sneer over your face. Being made to present your dainty hand to the man who had raped and murdered your dear aunt and Targaryen cousins.

He watched as the rocking of the carriage lulled you to soft slumber, head resting against the cushioned wall. Hugging yourself with your neck cranked to find comfort, pouted mouth breathing puffs for lazed breaths. The terrain of the Gold Road was smooth with nary a bump, yet Tywin came to sit next to you. The uncomfortable crank in your neck ought to make it ache in the morning, your head finding itself on his shoulder as you slept, the thick cloak covering your body as you lift your legs next to you. Resting against your husband.

A tight jostle however startled you to consciousness, your adamant need to still remain ridden by sleep you peeked one eye open, taking a moment to gather your bearings, Tywin's hold on you tightened, making you aware that you were indeed resting against his body. An apologetic frown upon your brows as you made an attempt to shuffle to the other end, his hold remained firm.

"Sleep." He whispered, squeezing your shoulder.

You, by the Mother's grace, remained a bed for the remainder of the journey. A mellow call of your name is what broke you away from your clouded warm dreams of the sea.

The face of your handmaiden however above you as she sat with a cloak in her hands, you grumbled awake, rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm.

The tenuous tugs of sleep still had you curled to the cushioned seat, grumbling as Syaria pulled you up, accustomed to your demands for more sleep she shifts to hold you straight. You scowl at her mothering, hissing as you felt the bitter tug of the hairbrush she ran through your mussed hair to neatly put into a braid. She slipped the cloak over your shoulders, humming to herself as your body was finally in focus and properly awake.

"Lord Tywin?" You croaked, one last broken yawn breaking through you. Shrugging the gentle ache in your shoulders.

"Out with Lord Kevan." She mused, letting you a satisfied hum before shoving a branch of Meswak for you to chew on.

You had a faint memory of feeling warm, the heavy feel of arms upon you to find your husband's chin resting on your head as he lay awake. You shuffled out of the carriage, the other maids of your horde holding up a sheet of white cloth as you changed behind its security into more appropriate riding clothes. You sat on the foot of the carriage, shooing away the Westerlands maid as she bent down to lace your boots, you were perfectly capable of tying them yourself.

Once ready they pulled away the white curtain as you stood to your height, stretching your arms up in the air to yank at any odd knots within your skin, the carriage had swaddled you in for nearly seven hours from dusk to dawn. The Gold Road was painted orange with the peak of the morning sun, horses neighing away as people changed shifts, a moment of respite and preparations for your arrival at Clegane's Keep.

You walked back five paces, your lovely black mare Nysa sat with her hooves curled in, Eldrã lovingly feeding the sweet thing apples, spoiled girl—

"Might I interrupt for a ride?" You called, Eldrã turned to you smiling, she petted your cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"You rest alright, dæriya?" she asked, concerned but toying at a far greater subject as she with ease switched to her mother tongue of Rhyone. He was with you last night. sweet girl

"Quiet well, daīa." you hummed holding onto Nysa's reins as you pulled yourself onto her.

Fredrick already stood at the ready. If you were to bolt away from the procession, you pointed your head to the edge towards the clearing where you were sure your husband sat with his brother breaking fast.

"Sleep well, Serret?" you asked a spurt of happiness within you, having the people closest to you accompanying you through this new journey.

"Well enough, my lady." He smiled baring his thirty-one perfect teeth, one happened to be chipped.

"Race with me?" you smiled sheepishly, pointing at the edge of the forest.

"I don't think racing at your station is appropriate now." He pressed, he wouldn't deny you. He never could, he never would.

"And if I were to order you, use my station. Would you do it?" A cheeky grin spread through your face, head tilted and mischief coating your features after a moon.

"Then I shall have no choice but to obey, my lady."

"Then we race!"

Nysa took off with the speed of storm winds, your braids whooshing against the wind as you tore through the forest line, the sun already risen, the orange fading and clear blue skies up above. It felt like an exotic delicacy willed into your environs as the fresh air bathed your skin away from the lingering tensions from the night before. You stopped, right at the edge of the forest line. Turning back to find Fredrick five paces behind before he too halted next to you.

You giggle, poking your pink tongue out at him before turning to bask in the scenery, you finally let your thoughts flow as you tarry.

"How am I expected to raise my palm to a man that raped and murdered my aunt," you muse, that sullen heaviness in your heart wet again weighing you down.

"Do you want me to kill him?" He blurted, a jape in all honesty but a blade pierces a man all the same.

You chuckle, shaking your head— a fine prospect, a violent one but one that Oberyn had fantasised over multiple times, Gregor Clegane's head resting at his foot. You wondered if you stared at his plate of food at lunch, you wondered if The Mountain might fear you of poisoning him. The entirety of your family sat shaking their heads on your shoulder.

You looked around, about a yard away sat your husband by a thoroughly filled table, a black tunic and vest of sable fur with his leg bent and resting over his other. Fine leather boots reaching up his knees, he was watching you from a distance. His arm shot in the air, finger bent to call you over to him.

You sighed, looking at Fredrick before turning Nysa as you trotted over, dreading the conversation you were soon to have.

"My lords." You bowed, barely meeting their eyes. Relishing the sudden warmth against your skin from the lit fire.

"My lady."

"Wife."

Lord Kevan rose from his seat, gesturing for you to replace yourself, he passed a knowing nod to his brother before leaving.

"Are you cold?" Tywin asked, inspecting the gloves on your fingers and the fur lining of your coat.

"The weather hasn't agreed with just yet I'm afraid," you agree, smiling at him "The Dornish climate is a lot more forgiving."

All you could do was rub your leather gloves palms together, speak to him, say anything dammit—

"I have employed a governess for you," Tywin began, setting his plate of food "all the way from Oldtown."

"What use would I have for a governess? Our children would have years before they needed one."

Tywin looked surprised for a moment like the mention of possible children tickled at his hoped.

"You were raised Dornish, it is for your own good."

You frowned, toying at the cusp of what he meant.

"What? Being devoid of good societal behaviours, do you think I am unladylike?"

Tywin's lips pressed into a hardline "You are expected to be the Lady of Casterly Rock, now I will not have mockery being made out of my lady wife and by extension me."

"And why do you suspect it is so? It is you who wanted a lady wife with more than half a brain, have your feet turned cold now my lord?" You appeared irked, pushing your weight against the chair you sat on, married for two days and your husband already believed you daft.

"Do you intend on letting Gregor greet you?"

Silence, an arrow right on the mark you stared at him through the lining of your scrunched eyebrows, that heaviness greeting itself once more.

"You will perform your duties, my lady, you wish not to be greeted. I will allow it. However, the matter of the governess is unchanged if you are to raise my sons."

"My lord, the Keep is ready for you." a foot soldier approached.

You sucked in a sharp breath, wishing you had a pendant vial of poison before stepping foot in that establishment. Tywin gave you a stern look once more before helping you into your horse.

The two of you rode to meet the procession, you very valiantly chose to ride in on Nysa, the niceties of lady ship so far behind your mind, and your husband shook his head as he rode in front of you.

The attendants of Clegane's Keep and the one monstrously large man stood amongst the crowd. People revered the blonde image of Tywin atop his white stallion. Their liege lord once in a moon had come to grace them.

Smile, you should smile but instead, your face seemed to have frozen itself to an unimpressed leer, eyeing Gregor with the malicious power of Mother Rhyone, drop dead— drop dead you sick bastard.

Footmens rushed to lay stools by the horse to make your unhorsing more graceful as you huffed off, patting Nysa as she gently neighed before walking to your husband.

The gruff voice of Gregor Clegane echoed, you were wishing a lance through his heart "Welcome to Clegane's Keep, my lord—" he bows his head before turning to you "My lady."

The anticipation burned up as Tywin watched you from his periphery, honour the fool that ruined your family, you lifted your hand and Tywin's chest deflated. A gloved hand turned and presented for the Mountain to bend and lay a kiss upon your palm. A gloved palm, you remained untouched.

"Clegane's Keep is yours."

Tywin turned to Kevan this time, his younger brother who appeared rather amused at your doings. He merely hoped that you would be introduced to Genna soon.

A gloved hand, a leather toy for a dog, deprives him of the honour of greeting you. You never said you'd let him.

Ahhhh first of all, I thank everyone for the support through this odd time of drama. I figured I’d best focus on my writing and thank everyone that reached out to me.

Secondly. I totally wanna make the reader poison Gregor Clegane, I’m just not sure if I wanna do it this early.

Taglist (thank youuuu💐)

@joker640 @wondergal2001

#tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister smut #tywin lannister x oc #tywin imagine #tywin x reader #tywin lannister x you #tywinlannisterxyou #tywin lannister #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #charles dance #gregor clegane #lord Tywin #kevan lannister #house lannister #house martell #lannisters

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greenpanda-basicfakewitch · 8 months

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Witch Tools | Athame | Wand | Boline

Athame

Usually a dull blade that isn’t used for physical damage. Contains the power of separation, casting circles, cutting binds, etc.

“A” as in “About.” “Th” as in “Thigh” “o” as in “Body,” “M” as in “my.”

A ceremonial double edged dagger used to direct energy during a ceremony. Traditionally, athames are made of iron or steel with wooden handles. You’ll want to consecutive your Athame before your first use in a ritual or Spell. You don't know where it has been or what type of energy has been latched onto it.

Athame Purification.

Cleanse the entire Athame with moon Water or Salt.

Place in the sunlight for an hour everyday for an entire moon cycle.

Athame Consecrating.

White Candle. Incense. Bowl of Sea salt. Bowl of purified water. *Cast a circle. *Arrange the elements on your altar.

North/Earth: Sea Salt. East/air: Incense South/Fire Candle. West/Water.water.

-Light the incense & Candle. Start at the North and go around clockwise -Hold the Ritual tool to be consecrated over each element & Recite a blessing. -After reciting each elemental blessing say “I consecrate this Object. May it enhance & purify all it touches.”

[Never touch another person's Athame without permission.]

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*Other type of sword:

IF you polish an ancient sword that's been used in battle, even a 2000 year old sword, it literally bleeds out the blood of the people it's been used on, which smells like a steak cooking. [Potential horror story right there. Source] ___________________________________________________________

Wand

Used to direct energy, summon spirits, and consecrate other tools. Can be handmade or bought.

Use a wand to channel or direct energy in spells and rituals.

Traditionally, wands are made of wood- usually a branch from an Alder, Ash, Hawthorn, or any other tree. But each can be made of any natural Material, Think of the wand as an extension of the arm or a pointed finger.

Magical Uses;

Can be used to cast and open circles, in place of an athame. Use to direct healing power. Use to direct energy when consecrating or charging magical objects like amulets, talismans, or poppets. Use to draw magical symbols in the dirt or air. A green wand “New growth.” is associated with healing. A white Wand “Flowering witches” Is associated with creativity. A black wand “Master and Sorcerer.” is associated with traditional lore and change. The wielder usually possesses all three of the wands and is skilled in magical warfare, among other things.

Wand Purification:

Cleanse the entire Wand with moon water or salt. Place in the sunlight for an hour everyday for an entire moon cycle.

Wand Consecrating

White candle. Incense. Bowl Of sea Salt. Bowel of purified water. *Cast a circle *Arrange the elements on your altar;

North/Earth: Salt East/Air: Incense South/fire: Candle West/Water.water

*Light the incense and the candle. *After saying the consecrating blessing ends wit,h “I consecrate this Object, may it enhance and purifier all touches.”

Never touch another person’s wand without permission. Ask permission from the tree, if you plan on using your boline knife to act as a branch and craft your own wand.

Remember to thank the tree by pouring a little bit of honey at the base. Gender: Masculine, Element Air & Fire. Direction: South.

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Boline

Boline [Bowleen]

Similar to Sailor Moons rod? Yeah I noticed that too.

Boline is a knife mainly used for cutting herbs and inscribing candles. Traditionally, bolines are single bladed and have a white handle such as bone wood, or antler and very kept sharp for cutting. The Blade is usually straight or crescent-shaped or crescent shaped. The crescent shape is reminiscent of the sickle described in the key of Solomon, a mediaeval grimoire.

Magical Uses.

Can be used to cast and open circles, in place of the athame. Harvest herbs and flowers for spells and rituals.

Use it to prune your garden. The boline is a descendant of blades that have long been used to maintain hedges.

Use to cut ritual cakes. Use to cut cords or rope for spells and rituals. *Boline serves for the physical plane, while the Athame serves for work in the spiritual and astral planes.

Boline purification

Wrap it in a cloth and bury it in the dirt for a full moon cycle, allowing the charge of the earth to purify and cleanse the tool.

Boline consecrating

White candle. Incense. Bowl of Sea Salt. Bowel of purified Water. *Cast a circle. *Arrange the element on your altar:

North/Earth: Salt East/Air: Incense South/Fire: Candle West/Water. Water

*Input the same as the other pages *Light the incense candle etc say the element blessing blah blah blah. Gender: Feminine Element Fire

#WITA #Witch Tools #MEDIA #witch #witchtok #witchblr #witch community #witchcraft #wiccan #pagan #wicca #paganism #paganblr #pagan witch #Occult #Wiccan #Witch #Craft #Witch craft

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marshmallowprotection · 2 years

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can you write a drabble for savior v and mc? something romantic? 🙏

Savior V wants you to join him in Paradise. With the beckoning hand, he lures you forward to join him.

You don't turn away now because there is something mystifying about him that leaves you breathless. You can feel the compassion inside of him when he looks at you. He truly wants to save you from everything that has ever hurt you. He is a kind man. He’s done everything to make you feel like you belong with him in this forest of solitude. It’s for your protection, he has said.

Everything about him invites you in and makes you feel like you're safe. That's why you're willing to do anything that he tells you to do.

Even as you’re on your knees in front of him, you’ve never felt taller because of how he praises you. You only lift your head when he tilts your chin back to catch a glimpse of your eyes. You see his long mint curls pour over his shoulders and cascade down his back. It’s like a sea of longing tears... you want to touch them so badly but you’re not worthy of it yet. You want to be saved so that he may be able to touch you and not stain his hands.

“Don’t worry,” his voice is sincere as the light from the skylight pours in from the outside and caresses his cheeks. “I will save you... you just need to give yourself to me... body, mind, and spirit. I can cleanse your soul... you just need to allow it to happen. Don’t fight your urges... let them in. Taste the pleasure and pain our salvation, poppet.”

#savior v #mystic messenger #mysme #mm #mysticmessenger #jihyun kim #kim jihyun #v jihyun kim #ask #anon #mod kait #drabble #v mm #v mysme #v mystic messenger #mystic messenger v #mysme v #mm v

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cursestothemoon · 3 years

Text

I Won’t Say I’m In Love

Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Read the summary here

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes

Word Count: 2569

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

(i found the picture on google, there is a name on it but other than that i am not sure who owns it. I do not.)

The leaves, newly fallen from the on coming of Autumn, crunched under the feet of hurrying students. Hogwarts had begun it’s new school year, witches and wizards were hurrying from boats and carts to get into the castle and catch up with friends. Just outside of the dining Hall was a sea of students, chattering with friends, everyone staying in clumps of like colors.

Gryffindors stayed with their own, as did Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs were the ones to intermingle the most, having friends in almost every house. Then there was the house of Salazar Slytherin, a proud bunch, robes of green tightly knit together leaving no room for outsiders or stragglers, not that the other houses (excluding Hufflepuff) thought highly enough of the green and silver house to make friends.

Y/n L/n, a proud member of Slytherin stood proud with her friends and housemates. Her chin was held high, a playful smirk painted delicately on her features as she listened to Blaise Zabini give a recount of his summer holiday. Blaise had always been a nice boy, his mother was a beautiful woman who was familiar with the front page of many high end wizarding fashion magazines. Then there was Lily Webberforth, another pureblood from a family of wealth, she was in Y/n’s year and a cherished friend.

“Father said he’d be purchasing a new peacock for the manor, though he couldn’t decide between albino or not.” Draco informed.

Draco Malfoy had wormed his way into the group during second year, a good kid...when he wanted to be, but absolutely snotty otherwise.

“Y/n, how about you wear my jersey for the first game of the season?” Adrian Pucey asked, arm slinging around Y/n’s shoulders making her internally cringe.

She was never a fan of being touched and Adrian seemed to be all for it when it came to her. They were in the same year and he’d been trying to convince Y/n to make it official since third year. She preferred to play with him rather than commit to him. It was easier that way, being able to differentiate her feelings from an early age, she knew she didn't particularly like him, but they had a few good nights and now she can’t shake him. He had become rougher over the years, harsh and controlling with an affinity for blackmail.

“No my clothes are just fine, Pucey, thanks.” She shrugged off his arm as Lily snickered at the exchange, finding joy in giving Adrian a look that told him ‘better luck next time’.

Adrian, not the biggest fan of rejection then turned to Lily in hopes of getting a jealous rise out of Y/n.

“What about you, Lils? You’ll wear my jersey won’t you?”

Lily shook her head, “I’m on the team with you, clear why you're not in Ravenclaw isn't it?”

Y/n laughed at the comment and moved to stand next to Lily, away from Adrian. Luckily, he got the message, for now, and left to find Marcus Flint.

“Have you seen the twins yet?” Lily asked, leaning closer to Y/n to make sure she wasn't overheard.

The girl gave her a questioning look before asking, “Why would I go looking for them?”

“Their hair’s come in nice, looking a bit shabby last year, remember?”

“Yeah, they’ve finally cut it?”

Lily shook her head, her eyes glowing with excitement, “Even better, it’s grown out a bit longer. Real nice looking, George looks rather well I’d say.”

“I always figured you had a thing for him.” Y/n laughed.

“Oh please, you and I both know that you love how much attention Fred gives you.”

Y/n tried to respond, really she did, but she was both out of words and interrupted by Lily again.

“Look, here they come.” Her voice was quite as she nudged her head in the direction behind Y/n.

Y/n turned slowly, in no rush to give Fred Weasley the satisfaction of having him know they were talking about him. When she did finally meet his eyes she couldn’t help but agree with Lily, his hair had grown out quite handsomely and he seemed to have reached an impossible height, well over the six feet he towered at in the previous year.

“Ladies.” They greeted simultaneously, Fred eyeing Y/n as they neared.

She gave a silent nod to them as Lily vocally greeted them with a reserved, “Hey.”

“News is that the first match of the season has our houses against each other. Shame isn’t it, Poppet? You can’t cheer for me.” Fred asked, arms crossing in front of his chest and lips stretching to a smirk.

Anyone could tell Fred was proud of his large frame, as a beater he worked hard for his toned arms, and thick biceps but his height was a complete natural gift bestowed upon him by the gods and he wouldn’t waste their generosity.

Y/n snorted, “Oh yeah, makes me feel empty inside when I can’t cheer for you, Weasley.”

“I know, no need to tell me. I fill you right up don’t I?”

The comment made her sneer at him, but she was unable to say anything back as her house was called into the Great Hall for the beginning of the year feast. Fred watched her leave as George poked fun at his inability to charm his way into her heart with innuendos and sarcasm.

It annoyed Fred, it was common knowledge that you had been with a few guys, some people even going as far as giving Y/n an undeserved title for it. Unfortunately, common knowledge happened to be a common rumor made by people who disliked her. Fred didn’t know this however and her constant rejection made him wonder, what did all those other guys have that he didn't?

Y/n and Fred had a back and forth relationship, neither being afraid to throw jabs at the other with the underlying tone of flirtiness yet both of them knowing the line not to cross. Fred thought she was ethereal, the way she seemed to glow as she walked through the halls had him weak in the knees. Her voice was buttery and soft, a velvety quality that seemed to grasp onto each of his heartstrings. Fred was head over heels for her and he hated it so he used sarcasm and a condescending tone to combat his feelings. Over time this developed into a false belief that he really didn’t like her, she was cunning, sly, and so easy to hate when he couldn’t love her.

Lily and Y/n sat in potions class, potion already brewed and completed as they gossiped in hushed tones and watchful eyes.

“So, anything new with Weasley?”

Y/n didn’t need a first name to know who her friend was referring to and she groaned.

“No, and there never will be.”

A loud groan emitted from Lily’s lips, “When are you gonna stop lying to yourself? I can see right through you.”

“There is no chance, no way that I’d ever fall for him.”

“You’d never fall for him or you’d never let yourself?”

The following silence was just as good of an answer as any, and Lily gave her a smug looking knowing she had won the argument.

Class ended shortly after that exchange, Y/n and Lily now having a free period chose to hang out in the room with the goblet of fire, watching as people put their names in. It was only last night that Fred and George had voiced their complaints quite loudly at the age restriction and Y/n was excited to rub it in Fred’s face that she was of age. Of course she wasn’t going to put her name in the goblet, she had better things to worry about than some tournament.

Lily and Y/n entered the hall at seemingly the wrong time, seeing as Fred and George had run through the doors leaving the girls in their dust. The whoops and hollers from bystanders made Y/n roll her eyes much to Lily’s amusement.

“How can you not be annoyed by their arrogance?” Y/n asked incredulously.

Her friend shrugged, “They are amusing.”

Y/n ignored the comment as they neared the twins.

“It’s not going to work.” She sing-songed loud enough for them to hear as she walked by.

Fred and George heard the comment and made a b-line for her and Lily. Fred plopped down behind Y/n, his face turning to meet her eyes, George doing the same to Lily.

“You don’t think that, do you Lily?” George asked Lily with a feigned look of childlike innocence.

“Come on, Poppet, have a little faith in me.” Fred said, a sarcastic look of pleading falling over his features.

For extra effect Fred jutted out his bottom lip making Y/n laugh at his ridiculousness, and oh how he loved to have her attention to himself.

“It’s incredibly dimwitted.” Y/n answered.

Lily nodded, “See that there?” She pointed to a white line around the goblet as she continued, “it’s an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself -”

“Meaning something as pathetically dimwitted as an aging potion isn’t going to get past it.” Y/n finished.

Fred tsked as he shook his head, “That’s why it’s so brilliant.”

“Because it’s so pathetically dimwitted.”

The twins stood up abruptly and Y/n’s eyes followed Fred’s figure. The way his jaw flexed as he drank the potion and his hair flopped when he jumped down from the bench with George made Y/n lose grasp on her emotions for just a moment.

He was good looking, she couldn’t deny it. Fred Weasley seemed to be built by the gods, his hair burned as that of Ares’, and his face chiseled to the likeness of Apollo. But Y/n had been there and done that with pretty boys, all of them were the same and wouldn’t give in to another one. She refused to let herself fall for him, afraid of the repercussions of really loving him.

The fire let out an angry growl that brought Y/n’s mind back to that room and what was happening, with good timing too as she then watched George and Fred get thrown a few feet in the air and land away from the age line. They sprouted long grey beards and got into a tussle on the floor.

The sight made Y/n giggle before she quickly regained her composure and acted as unbothered as possible making Lily roll her eyes. It would’ve been a fairly enjoyable time, regardless of what Y/n would’ve told Fred, but Adrian Pucey walking into the hall made her shrink in her chair as she grimaced.

“Go, don’t think he’s seen you yet.” Lily whispered, eyes trained on the other Slytherin.

Y/n nodded and hugged the walls as she made her way to the door, hopefully, unseen. She celebrated too early, and her face fell as she heard the unmistakable tone just as she made it through the doors.

“Running away from me?” Adrian called, his smirk evident in his words.

She stopped, turning to look at him as she spoke, “Don’t be so surprised. You ought to have realized by now your company isn’t wanted.”

“Come on Y/n, give us a chance. You know you want to.” He said coming closer to her.

“Really, Adrian, I don’t.”

Adrian reached out to pull her under his arm and forced her to walk with him, the act making her tense up but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned closer to her ear, his breath hitting her skin making her incredibly uncomfortable.

“You’re mine, you know that don’t you? And no fucking ginger is going to get in my way.” He growled.

“You’re disgusting.” She spat, eyes burning with the anger of Hephaestus’ greatest fire.

Adrian laughed as he leaned closer to Y/n’s ear making her give an uncomfortable shiver, “Careful, darling, your feelings are showing.”

“Miss me, poppet?”

Fred Weasley’s voice was chipper and cheery as he greeted Y/n in their first class of the day. He had just woken up and it showed, his red hair looked as though it was hastily brushed through with his own fingers and his eyes still a bit puffy. He looked positively endearing as he took a seat at his table with George, just behind Lily and Y/n.

“Ridiculously.” Y/n mumbled, not looking up from her Herbology book.

“We’re only a few weeks in, what could you possibly be studying for?” Fred asked as he leaned over his desk to catch a glimpse at what you were looking at.

You glanced at him momentarily before looking back at your book, “Just giving myself an idea of what to expect.”

“Not a bad idea.” George said, considering doing it himself.

Fred gave him a funny look before turning his attention back to the girl in front of him, chin resting on his hand propped up by his elbow on the desk. She wasn’t paying attention to him, instead focusing on the book in front of her. She was slightly to the side allowing Fred the perfect view of her face without giving her the satisfaction of knowing he was staring at her.

Y/n’s hair fell in gentle waves down to kiss the top of her hips, she had fring that framed the length of her face and parted in the middle that was incredibly voluminous. Her eyes were focused with intense determination as she read, face relaxed as she was completely absorbed in what she was doing. Fred noticed early on that she rarely laughed, a genuine, eye crinkling, giggle but instead always had a look of unbothered casualness. He couldn’t understand this, not in the slightest, seeing as he was sure he had smile lines forming already.

He wanted to know more about the ethereal Slytherin, he craved it with everything in his being. Something about her drew him in, held him in place and refused to let him go.

Deep in thought, Fred failed to notice her eyes now looking at him with a curious glint and her hand coming out to poke him with her index finger.

“Alright, Weasley?” Her eyebrows were furrowed and Fred shrugged off the bubbly feeling he got in his gut.

He smirked, “Aw, do you care about my well being? Georgie hold me I may swoon.”

George laughed and shook his head at his brother, Lily joining in on the laughs as she watched Y/n’s face contort to one of distaste.

“Oi, Freddie’s got himself a girlfriend.” Lee Jordan, a close friend of Fred and George’s called from his table on the other side of the greenhouse.

Fred gave a short chuckle, his defenses coming up instantaneously as he tried to ignore the burning of his cheeks. And maybe if he hadn’t been so keen on putting down any and all rumors of him having feelings for Y/n he would’ve noticed the shy smile that graced Y/n’s lips as she turned her face away from the boys.

But alas, he didn't, and instead opened his mouth to shout over to Lee.

“My standards aren't that low, mate. I’d just as soon shag a goblin, Godric knows they’d be less bothersome.”

Taglist

@freddieweasleyswife @anywherebuthere

#Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #Harry Potter imagines

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henrys-little-princess · 3 years

Text

A Perfect Sunday Morning

a/n: hi darlings!! bit of a cute one for y'all today after last night's angst (which will have a part 2 coming soon!!) henry x OFC, rated t! -xo poppet :)

I wake up between the soft silken sheets of a creamy white color with matching cream white pillowcases. It is a sunday, a day I get to spend in bed as long as I want because I don’t have work, so I don’t hurry to get out of bed.

I stretch, my flat, sunburnt stomach showing when I pull my hands over my head, and look to my right. My beautiful boyfriend Henry is already looking at me, his eyes blue orbs like the ocean outside our window on a sunny morning. His lashes are long, like on a cow, and his lips are perfectly pink.

“Good morning.” I say, and his eyes snap up to mine. He was clearly ogling at my boobs with his beautiful almond shaped eyes, and I smile a wide, satisfied smirk. Henry reaches out a big gentle hand and touches my sunburned stomach, making me shiver all the way to my toes.

“Morning sexy.” He rasps, his voice deep and dark and husky and it makes my lady parts heat up. I giggle and he leans closer, kissing me deeply. He tastes like strawberries.

I giggle when his hand tickles me. I am very sensitive on my sides and my boyfriend Henry knows that, using it just so that he can hear my laugh he says.

“Heeenryyyy.” I whine into his mouth, and he growls at me. “You know that tickles.”

“I booked us a table at your favorite restaurant for brunch.” Henry says, rolling off of me after having rolled over me and pressed down in a way that is very, very distracting.

I squeal happily, and he looks at me hungrily, and he flexes his abs and his thick chest muscles. He knows I love when he does that, and I stay on my back on the bed and just watch him.

“I’m going to take a shower.” I tell my boyfriend and roll on my side, making my pajama pants slip up and show off my tanned, toned legs. When I look up, Henry is looking at me again, eyeing me up and down with a hunger that feels more bedroom than breakfast.

I can feel his hungry, dark eyes like a stormy sea on my butt as I turn around and walk over our soft, plush rug with white dots on, and over to the bathroom.

I barely get the water going before I feel my boyfriend's muscular arms around my waist and I giggle loudly.

“Henry!” I whine, but I lean my head to the side and let him kiss me. We shower together, and my boyfriend stands right behind me all the time, making my lady parts tingle. But we have no time for the kind of fun we want, not until after Henry takes me to my favorite restaurant where he reserved a table for us today.

We get out of the shower and get dressed, I put on my favorite dress that is white with teddy bears on it. I like it because it reminds me of my boyfriend, and Henry matches it with a white shirt too.

Henry looks me deep in the eyes, leaning so close I can smell the strawberries on his breath and he kisses me deeply before we leave.

“I love you, pumpkinspice.” He whispers huskily, and I shiver.

“I love you too.” I giggle. “And I will show you how much when we get home.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill drabble #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fluff #the cavillry #poppet writes

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abluescarfonwaston · 3 years

Note

I cant stop thinking about A Little Sacrifice..... please send help

*Tosses you that poor mermaid who deserved better than the town mayor in the hope she keeps you from drowning* It’s not possible to stop thinking about that short story. I’m very sorry. Here let me help. *Shoves you under*

It’s not possible to stop thinking about how Dandelion uses that tale to write The Little Mermaid. A story written by a gay man in real life. A story where the mermaid is unable to tell the man she gave every up for that she loves him and eventually turns to sea foam when he loves another.

It’s not possible to stop thinking about how in the start they talk about love requiring little sacrifices and how Geralt and Dandelion make them for each other. Because they love each other. Because in those first two books they are perhaps the only kind of love we see that doesn’t Destroy the people involved. (How Yennefer’s love is essentially a Curse for both Geralt and her- how True love transforms the beast back into a man as she kills him in A Grain Of Truth despite him not wanting to be changed back)

How Dandelion sets Essi and Geralt up like a good friend when he realizes they like each other. How he tells Geralt that he’s a normal person. That he should move on from Yennefer and Love someone normal like Essi. Someone who doesn’t treat him like dirt and make him feel like a monster. A mutant. A freak.

How, despite showing no jealously, it seems that he is the mermaid. Unable to speak his love. But Essi is the one who turns to foam.

Don’t think about how Dandelion is apparently the right size to wear Geralts clothing without comment. Or how they sleep in the same bed enough it’s not even noteworthy. It is in fact so common that Geralt groans about Dandelion being chatty in bed when he wants to sleep.

Don’t think about how Dandelion picks Essi up and spins her around in his arms. How he is strong enough to do that. How much he loves poppet. His little sister.

How he carries her from the city in those same arms and buries her.

Don’t think about how Dandelion pulls Geralt to land. Screaming at him to ‘grab my hand’ and he does. Of course he does.

And don’t think about the song about a certain bard and a certain Witcher falling in love on the coast. And how nothing- not even death - could separate them.

And how he never played it. Not once.

Because it wasn’t really about Essi Daven.

And the mermaid cannot speak its love.

And really. Really don’t think about that werewolf. Ravenous and hungry. How it heard Dandelion, listened, and then went on its way. How at the end of the series Geralt, the man that death follows after, dies.

How death tells him her job is just to take his hand and lead him into the fog. So no one goes alone.

Don’t think about how Dandelion was ready to walk into the fog with him. Hand in hand all the way back in Posada.

Don’t think about how he carried Essi dead or dying - body ravaged by smallpox in his arms. Perhaps near unrecognizable with the disease. Ready to go with her too.

How, despite everything in our tale Dandelion survives.

Because death follows after Geralt. But she won’t touch Dandelion.

Love requires sacrifice. And perhaps the worst thing is to be the one left behind after the other is gone.

How ballads are meant to be felt - not believed. But all stories must have a grain of truth.

So he writes a song about a Witcher and a Bard and how not even death could overcome their love.

And he never sings it. Not for anyone.

Love requires sacrifice. And I will love you even after you are gone.

#the witcher #the witcher books #spoilers #a little sacrifice #dandelion #meta #essi daven #geralt #jaskier #you see this? This is why messages build up in my inbox #how did you know my exact button to push #is it cause people keep pushing this button and it keeps working #seriously brain please

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

written in the stars

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gojo!clairvoyant!reader summary: The stars had a lot to offer, a lot of stories, a lot of possibilities, and a lot of secrets to tell. The future was full of disparities, mysteries, and wonders. Each person had something waiting for them. Except for her. Hers always drew a blank. And Fushiguro Megumi hated that. author’s notes: my first fic of the year! yay! this was an idea i kinda played around for a while. i was inspired a bit by @alkhale ‘s fic titled ‘keep a place for me’ (please give it a read, it’s so good!) and a prompt i saw about gojo’s cousin/little sister. however, i wanted to play on the idea of a clairvoyant more. in addition, i was thinking of my favorite clairvoyants - Alice Cullen from Twilight and Poppet Murray from The Night Circus. also available on ao3. disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

A scream cuts through the dark, followed by more screams - guttural, horrified, anguished screams.

Screaming, more screaming.

Figures were dancing twistedly, seen only in silhouettes against the misty dark.

Red splattered through, touching almost everything, covering everything in its rich, dark texture.

Blood, terrible blood red.

So much fear, so much chaos, so much destruction at the heart of it all.

Terror.

Fear.

Anger.

Rage.

Blood red eyes.

Blood red eyes fueled with a burning rage.

You bitch! You lied to me!

More screaming.

Cold dread.

Warm blood.

The gentle kiss of a blade.

Was everything a lie?

Angered eyes.

Screams.

Screaming.

Silence.

Nothing is a lie.

A gasp.

But I have to say goodbye.

A shudder.

The leaves fall, landing on a puddle of blood.

Farewell-

First, there was silence. One that filled the room and seeped into your bones, calming, soothing, yet deafening.

And then, came pain - throbbing, numbing pain.

There was a stale aftertaste in the back of her mouth. Everywhere, she felt shaken, weakened. Throughout her body, all she felt was a dulling pain that only intensified now that she was awake, just seeping at every bit of energy.

Slowly coming to, eyes fluttering open, something warm and wet slipped down her left eye. Weakly, she turned her head, a pained groan leaving her mouth before she met blue.

Blue – bluer than the skies, than the seas, an everlasting, kind, warm, sly blue, greeted her.

"Good morning," he greeted, long fingers reaching out to brush strands of hair away from her face.

Soft, familiar, gentle touches. Finding her voice, she slurred, "N-Nii-sama," her throat was dry, scratchy.

As she coughed, the older man reached out and took a glass of water, holding it with one hand as he gently helped her sit up with the other. Reaching up, he cupped her cheek, thumb rubbing at the blood leaking out of her left eye.

"Bad dream?"

Nodding meekly, she took the glass with both hands, eyes squeezing, but not saying anything just yet.

With eyes still shut, she took calming breaths. "How long was I out?"

"Not long," she took a gentle sip, feeling the rushing cool down her throat. "but not short either."

"So...a while?"

"Just shy of three hours."

"I see," gently putting the glass down, she knelt forward and held her throbbing head. Hot tears were forming at the backs of her eyes, which she fought off, fighting the nauseating pain building as well.

A large hand smoothed down her head, massaging at her neck.

"Are you feeling sick?"

"Just a headache, this time."

But her heart pounded wildly against her chest like it was ready to burst. Pressing her palms over her eyes, she took long breaths - in the nose, out the mouth. In, out. Another. One more. The pounding in her chest slows, her breathing stabilizes.

The older man's usually crafty expression softened. "Do you need anything? I'll have Megumi to get them for ya."

At the sound of the boy's name, a gentle smile graced her lips. "No, nii-sama, I promise."

Taking a gentle breath, she sat up straight - (e/c) gleaming on her right, crystal blues like his on her left, a tired smile on her lips.

Smiling still - a real one that reached his eyes this time, he ruffled at her (h/c) hair, a streak of white strands slipping through his fingers.

"Well, I'll still let Megumi grab us some sweets,"

"Nii-sama, no."

Being born a Gojo automatically spelled that she would be renowned for their prowess and skills, praised, envied, maligned for the wrong reasons, subject to ire, high expectations from other jujutsu sorcerers, especially clans, more so, when it was discovered she was a clairvoyant. Soon enough, the shaman elders wanted to keep her, utilize her. On the other hand, crazed cultists were desperate to find her, worship her, erect her as their goddess, exploit her.

But for Gojo Satoru, all he wanted was to give his sister a normal life - regardless if she could see beyond the normal, could see a million truths with her Six Eyes. A little after he got in his freshmen year, he received a tip about another Gojo and singlehandedly sought her out, rescued her without hesitation, and brought her up as his own.

After all, even the great and powerful deserved a life, too.

"It's so cliche that the only way to tell we're related is by our eyes," he'd say, resting the quiet little girl on his lap.

"A biological design you can't argue," Getou replied laughingly, watching the younger Gojo in fascination - quiet, small, her left eye was crystal, endless blue, her right was a bright (e/c), frazzled (h/c) with a streak of white running on the right side of her hair.

She eyed the dark-haired man curiously, large orbs of crystal blue and lustrous (e/c) blinking. Meeting her gaze, Getou smiled warmly, one that reached his eyes. A shy smile, accompanied by the reddening on the apples of her cheeks, and the little girl ducked, causing the two men to laugh.

"She is a precious little thing," reaching out, the little girl reached out as well, her tiny hand against his large one, slapping against his repeatedly. Just like her brother, he could feel the immense curse energy in her. The smile on his face fell slightly. "Precious and promising."

Something unpleasant settled on the other's man's belly watching his little sister fascinate with her tiny self, remembering the state he had found her, kept away, caged, surrounded by crazy old coots.

Protectively, he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to his chest. Curling against her big brother, the white-haired man cupped her round cheeks, pressing his lips to her other cheek then to her temple, earning a toothy smile, warming his heart.

As expected, it was found that despite being Satoru's half-sister, she had the Limitless ability as well. Except hers were not as great as her brother's. More importantly, when he had found her, captured and bound by one of the old geezers of traditional fucks, just how keen her clairvoyant abilities were. Because when he came for her, she had been expecting him - sitting in the middle of her confined prison, a careful look in those mismatched eyes, almost hesitant, unafraid, expectant.

One look into someone's eyes and she could see all - their past, present, and future. She sees all, knows all.

Keen at times, most of the time her visions tend to be abstract.

Varied in its telling, she could see the future through the stars, though cards, or on her own. She had plenty of divination tools - to help with her readings, mostly using cards that were gifted to her by her brother after he found her. With her immense cursed power, she also had developed techniques making use of paper for spellcasting, reanimating, to name a few. And while she did have an inherited technique - that is the Gojo's Limitless, she's still unable to fully master it. It was as though her being a clairvoyant ruled over, pouring all her cursed abilities through her visions.

He didn't seem to mind, actually pleased that she was left with one less burden.

Probably one of the worst things about her visions was its effect on her physically and emotionally, for many were the nights where she'd be plagued by these strange dreams, which were all so vivid, so real, and each time she'd wake up either with a terrible headache, severe nausea, or both. And each time she woke up, blood mixed with tears would slip out her left eye. Confusion and fear, too, had taken over her.

The first time he was made aware of her nightmares, it was just two days after he rescued her.

He was heartbroken to see her cry so much, terrified of the things she couldn't understand.

She never knew the reason why, nor did her brother - the great Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of their generation.

"Even the strongest sorcerer can't hold all the answers, y'know." he coos, voice veering towards teasing. "I've already been blessed with so much." his usual blatant, playful honestly, usually slathered with mischief, had been softened. A tone he had settled with, especially since the little girl clung to him as though her life depended on it, tiny hands in their tight grip, tiny body drenched in cold sweat, shaking. "But rest assured, little one," wiping the blood off her left eye, he pressed his lips against her temple, rubbing comforting circles on her back, he murmured, voice soft and gentle. "I will never let anything bad happen to you."

Once, she dreamt of standing in a sea of nothing. An endless sea of nothing.

She lifted her hands - withered, scarred, dainty hands - in the air and left it there.

Then waited.

And waited.

Eventually, there was a drop from the heavens.

Rain.

A year later, Getou Suguru left the school.

A little later, she was introduced to Fushiguro Megumi.

In the midst of jujutsu training, she was beginning to make sense of her visions - from the trivial to the important ones, abstract at first, but slowly forms, molds into something. Also, a tip from her brother, she learned to use it to her advantage when in a fight.

When they come up abstract, with the help of her divination tools, she could at least get an idea of what's to come.

Growing up, she sometimes found her visions getting harder to decipher - either they were too subjective or objective, but most of the time they tend to be true. Sometimes, they change, depending on people's decisions. Most of the time they're incomplete - a lot of blanks in between, just waiting to be unveiled.

One look into the person's eyes and she could see it all, in almost perfect clarity. It was rather an infinite pool of choices of infinite futures.

Clairvoyance was a gift and a curse in itself - a tricky and complicated one, at times, frustrating. A gift to others, a curse to one.

Despite such a gift, she just chose never to tell people what she saw.

For it was like cheating life and death, it wasn't fair to live a full life with cheat codes at your disposal. Life was best spent head-on, come what may of the many uncertainties.

"That's very kind of you," Nanami would tell her, voice soft. "and mature, at best."

Unable to help herself, she laughed quietly, skipping merrily in her new boots.

There was a joke in there somewhere only they'd understand.

Megumi hated how unfair the world was - hated how bad people can get away with things, hated how good people are easy to corrupt or taken advantage of. He hated how (Y/N)'s clairvoyance could take a toll on her physically and emotionally, hated even when he was told, albeit, rather cryptically, that she had been kept away by some jujutsu clan for their own gain. Had Gojo Satoru not picked up on her trail, found her, saved her- he just can't imagine it.

But she can, because she can see it all.

And yet, despite it all, it didn't waver her conviction, her morals, her being. If anything, it only strangely motivated her to at least try.

It was stupidly idyllic, yet awe-inspiring of her.

There two kinds of people in this world: the good ones and the bad ones. Each of them makes him sick to the core with just how simplistic and greedy they both can be, there's no going around it. The world was filled with them: good and bad, sometimes the bad ones overruled the good ones, the system blows up, and the good ones suffer. Regardless, both of them still live in a cruel world beyond what they know.

"So, with that said where do I fall under?"

He turned, meeting (e/c). Her left eye was hidden under an eyepatch since it was irritating her for some reason.

They were in the Gojo manor, specifically, their kitchen - surprisingly modern and work of art, for such a traditional estate. (Y/N) was preparing fruit sandwiches, after Principal Yaga came by to drop some fruits.

"Huh?"

Shrugging, she continues. "You carefully categorize people accordingly," a brightly patterned new kimono top, partnered with a dark bottom falling inches by her knees, contrasted well against her skin. Finishing her look was a frilly apron tied neatly around her. As of late, her brother's been spoiling her silly with new kimonos and dresses, she had a few pairs of boots care of Nanami, too. "Satoru-nii-sama, Tsumiki-nee-san, Kento-san - to name a few. It just makes me wonder where I fall under all that."

"Does it really matter?"

"It doesn't," she answered truthfully, spreading a generous amount of whipped cream on the white bread. "but at the same time, it does."

"Why?" he handed her some strawberries, watching her delicate fingers place them on top of the cream filling carefully.

"Well, I just want to know what you think of me, I guess." she said with a casual shrug, putting another layer of whipped cream before finishing it with a slice of bread.

The two fell into steady silence as they continued making more sandwiches, taking into consideration the remaining whipped cream they had, the slices of bread, and the fruits - strawberries, kiwi, and mangoes. Some sandwiches were mixed, some were not.

Wrapping the last of the sandwiches, all that's left is to store them in the refrigerator for about 20 minutes. Light green eyes trail after (h/c) with a trail of white, watching as she gently tucked the sandwiches in. Closing the refrigerator door, they now turned to what little mess they have to clean up.

"I never pegged you to be the type to care about your image," he tells her. Suddenly a snickering, almighty, narcissistic silver-haired man came to mind, he inwardly groaned. "those kinds of thoughts are beneath you."

"Yeah, but hey," turning to him, she grinned teasingly. "I can be a bad person, too, y'know."

Scoffing, he turned to her, eyes glinting teasing. "Yeah, right."

In every aspect, she was like his sister - unwavering, kind, honest, undeserving of all the evils in this godforsaken earth. Does she claim she can be bad? The worst he's seen her do was deny her brother a hug after finding out he ate her imported chocolate (which she hid, by the way!).

Someone like her could never be a bad person.

Someone with a heart so big, so pure, threatened only by the dangers that came with being a clairvoyant, a Gojo, and a jujutsu sorcerer.

No, she can never be a bad person. Because as she tightens her apron, announcing that they should start cleaning, deep inside her heart, she knows that everyone - even the scummiest creature of all, is innately good. It just wasn't fair that the world wasn't good to her in kind.

Often, she would dream of things ranging from strange, obscure, odd, to the occasional horribly realistic ones. And m any times , she would try to make sense of these dreams, only to come to a blank. She hypothesized that these could either be another vision through her dreams, witnessing what's to come through the eyes of someone else. The other, when she talked to her brother, hypothesized that they could be pasts of the people or curses she's met. It was plausible, to say the least.

She just didn't understand the fear after each dream, why it felt like she was breathing for the first time, like her head was above water, or why her heart felt like it was ripping in two.

These dreams, she would file away in her little journal. Dream after dream filed away. So many secrets, questions, clued in each dream with no definite answer leaving her lost and unsure what to make of it all.

A clairvoyant with keen vision yet obscure in detail, how unbecoming of her as a Gojo.

An involuntary chill gushes through her exposed neck, sending shivers down her spine and cutting her off her stupor.

Tilting her head back, she was met with a sky full of glittering stars, a peaceful sigh leaving her lips. To some, they were dead rocks floating in space, to her, they were charters and boarders of the unknown, just waiting to be unraveled.

The stars twinkled and sparkled, she lost herself in a trance as the stars spoke to her in whispers. Wind blowing against her skin, she could almost lose herself to the secrets being told, of a fate to be known, of a chance to be taken, of a possibility amidst the void - everything that is everything. She feels it as well, her cursed energy flowing, absorbing information after information.

And then she felt hands tugging her wrist, ending the trance.

Overhead, a lamppost flickered, electrical wires swayed, a cat hissed before running off, the iron gate from the nearby park groaned, the breeze gushed silently. Life went on.

Blinking, she lowered her head, meeting light green - hardened, steely, and unwavering.

"Megumi..."

15 years old and he was still stoic as ever, too mature for his age. And tall, too! He's always been a head taller than her, but not as tall as her brother, though.

A weighted sigh. "Why do you keep doing this," his voice was disgruntled, words coming out more of a grunt more than a question.

She worked on a smile, eyes blinking. "Force of habit,"

Scrunching his nose, he gently tugs her wrist and they walk quietly, keeping her to his side while he walks by the curb.

His hands were big, rough from all the training, yet so warm and gentle against hers. Their shadows dance against the light, for some reason it made her think if either of his shikigamis could come out to play. It was a funny thought she couldn't help chuckling at.

"Why're you laughing?" a question this time, directing his eyes at her.

Shaking her head, she maintained an innocent look, eyes forward.

Unconvinced, he lets it go. Instead, he thinks back to the look on her eyes, the faraway gaze. "Earlier, what did you see?"

Blinking, she tilted her head, letting the white streak fall. Plenty, she thought. Murky, like looking into the water during summer.

With a quirk of her lips, she crept up to him, distance closing, slipping her fingers into his. "You!"

Scoffing, a small smile creeps up his lips at the obvious as he squeezes their hands together.

True to his word, and a year when his sister got cursed, Fushiguro Megumi was accepted into Jujutsu High together with Gojo (Y/N).

He didn't actually think that she'd go through with it, choosing to live a normal life as her brother wanted of her.

"Hey she's got a mind of her own, yanno? I'm not gonna just tell her, 'no', that'd make me a terrible brother. And 'sides, can you imagine just how great and powerful my (Y/N) would be?"

Inwardly, he groaned. He could still hear that annoying man's voice in his head. Well, he was officially his teacher now. Their teacher, to be more precise.

Like that'll be any different.

Megumi finally reaches his destination – the Gojo manor, he lets himself in and announcing his presence. Before he could take a step into the hallway, a figure pops from the corner of his eye, a tall, strangely quiet, and protective figure – Gojo Satoru, observing his little sister from the side. Approaching, he was about to ask when he realized what he was looking at - standing in the middle of their wide garden courtyard.

She had her head towards the night skies, breath coming out in puffs, mismatched eyes taking in the flecks of stars shining against the moon.

It was snowing.

The last snow of the year.

Annoyed, Megumi thought of walking over and getting her out of it, especially seeing that she was wearing light clothing.

"Shhh," the white-haired man said without looking back, finger pressed against his lips, pointing with his other hand. "they're communicating."

Under the moonlight, his teacher's snow-white hair turned silver, illuminating his pale skin, lighting those crystal blues hidden behind those dark glasses.

In the same light, it bathed her - giving her glow and grace, emphasizing her mixed features, but notably highlighting more on that white streak on the right side of her face, and the crystal blue on her left eye. Her (e/c) eye glowed in the dark like a cat's in the dark, its shine was brighter than her left.

Feeling her cursed energy flow through the area, thinly and discreet like mist. Cursed energy normally composed of negative emotions, but this one, hers was, different, strange, frightening. It was neutral. Passive, tenacious, different, happy. It was well-balanced of both positives and negatives.

A strange, strange, cursed energy. But a powerful one, nonetheless.

Truly, she was a cut above the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers he's ever met. Not just because of her being a Gojo, or because he knew her the longest.

"Did you know someone wanted to take (Y/N) from me?" That stopped Megumi cold, whipping his head to the white-haired man, he had his hands in his pockets and spoke rather too nonchalantly. "But at the last minute, decided he couldn't."

Gojo Satoru was a man of many secrets, complex, nonchalant, and playful as he was. Most of the time, he spouts the oddest things that were twisted out of proportion that any normal, sane person would get underneath his pizzaz. Still, when he spoke facts Megumi knew that they were just that - the truth and nothing but the truth. He could be blunt about it, or straight to the point, or be sadistic by playing around until he came to it.

"Why are you telling me this?"

But Megumi knew, when he spoke of the truth, something was up.

His teacher shrugged, laying on his arms, gazing forward lazily.

But sometimes, Gojo Satoru would purposely leave his half-truth hanging, waiting only for the other party to guess or catch up.

"The higher-ups are always all over my case for a quote, stealing her from them, unquote" he added with air quotations, face souring. "Stealing her for my selfish gain to try and rebuild the Gojo clan. What a load of crap."

The system of jujutsu sorcerers. He wasn't very familiar with it. But judging from what he's heard from the older man, they're very traditional - strictly traditional, adhering to words of the old. Some even were too righteous for their own gain.

"It's no secret that a clairvoyant could help to our advantage, especially against unknown enemies and curses."

Producing a blanket from out of nowhere, the older man jerked his head towards her. “But they forget that she’s just a girl.” Then the two walked across the pebbled ground, crunching noises under their feet.

"Yo, (Y/N)~"

Expression that was once glazed with wonder was soon replaced with a faint smile at the two approaching men.

"Nii-sama and Megumi! How was your mission?" she asked the dark-haired male, as her brother wrapped the blanket around her snuggly.

"It went-"

"It went off without a hitch!" her brother chirped in, wrapping his arms from behind. "Ah, Megumi's such a stellar student!"

"I wasn't even done speaking," grumbled the younger teen, breaking into a small sigh. "But what Gojo-sensei said."

"That's good to hear," her smile broadens, cheeks flush from the snow. "Yuuta-senpai would be proud of your progress!"

He feels a tug on the corner of his lips at the mention of his senior, settling on a nod instead. The two Gojos exchanged glances before laughing amongst themselves.

"Why are you even out here in the snow, do you want to catch a cold?" he scolds.

"But it's the last snow of spring,” she exclaimed, waving her hands to the sky. Then, with a tilt of her head, she asks. “did you know that?"

In response, he stares blankly at her. "No, I don't know that."

“Spring brings forth a season of new beginnings – a season for hope!”

Megumi listens attentively, paying attention to the expression on her face.

“Speaking of new beginnings!” Gojo cuts in happily. “We’ve got a new mission!”

“Already?” he couldn’t help but groan, he had just returned from one!

“Ah, not to worry, Megumi, this’ll be for next month!”

“Isn’t your mission for next month, too?” he turns to the (h/c) and white girl.

Sighing sadly, she nods. “Oh, yeah.”

“Not to worry, children! Let’s celebrate while we still can!” Gojo cheerfully proclaims, arms wrapped on the two younger teens. “Come on now, children! Inside we go, for stories over some delicious cooking by Papa Gojo~”

“Only now does he care about staying out for too long,” Megumi says with a roll of his eyes.

(Y/N) could only laugh, looking forward to eating something hot.

Fresh from her nightly readings, she had a feeling that that spring, it was the start of something interesting.

The Gojo manor was huge.

Compared to the rest of the students, (Y/N) didn't stay in the dorms Jujutsu High, so it was just her and her brother in the big old house. Megumi really hated it, the idea of her alone in that big house.

But she liked it anyway, big, spacious, filled to the brim with the history of their great clan. Big enough for her to wander, a lot of thinking space. Well, a useless wide expanse of space, if you asked him.

Still, considering its intimidating structure, this place holds a lot of memories for him. And more importantly, it houses two people he would never trade for the world.

"What are these?" was Megumi's greeting as he entered the library - she had her own personal library filled with her own collection of books, trinkets, and goodies. Her own 'personal thinking space' as her brother put it.

Turning, she laughed at the sight of his dark, messy hair, getting only spikier and messier each time she saw him.

A crystal ball lay in the middle of the room, cards scattered along beside a bag of chips, pillows, blankets, and her.

Megumi frowned at the strange markings on her arm, something she had done earlier.

"Ah, these?" she lifted her ink marked arms "Seals." Pointing with her ink-stained finger, she says, "for protection, for clarity, for-" she squints at her sloppy writing. "something."

"What for?"

Peering over her opened textbook, she gently marked the page and closed it as she replied, "Many things."

"You're sounding more and more like Gojo-sensei,"

She laughed at him, despite his frown. "He is my brother." Stretching her arms overhead, a satisfied moan escapes her mouth as she feels her muscles burn, her sleeves slipping down, revealing her arms. "Ah, by the by, what brings you here, Megumi?"

"Shouldn't you know that, with your ability and all."

Smiling, she turned to him fully. "Even though I can see it, doesn't mean I want to cheat the system."

His face scrunches, standing a foot away from her. "What does that even mean?"

Giggling, she tucks a strand back. "Whatever you want it to mean~"

"Seriously, Gojo-sensei's influence is terrible on you."

Looking at the mess, he sighs and carefully picks a few of the things off the floor, putting them aside. She didn't seem to mind, watching him quietly from her spot.

It wasn't so often that he'd visit, being a busy student of Jujutsu High and all. And she had her own fair share of missions, often taking her far off somewhere in Japan. Plus, she had just come back from Hokkaido. A lot’s happened to him since then.

“You were beat up by Aoi-senpai?”

His shoulders flinched, a soft gruff heard from him. "Shouldn't you know that by now?"

Ignoring his remark, she came up to him, hands gently taking in his face, inspecting his face for any injuries.

“Are you feeling better now?” her fingers were tracing along his skin, leaving burns, but he didn't complain.

Instead, he held on to her wrist, hands still holding his cheek, and met her gaze. “(Y/N),” his eyes slid to her, staring rather hard. She blinked, returning his gaze, waiting. “Am I boring?”

Unable to help herself, she snickered, pulling away.

“What?” His frown deepened. She once told him that it worried her so much to see him frown a lot. “Did Aoi-senpai tell you that? You know better than to trust someone else’s opinion of you. It shouldn’t matter now, should it?" To many, Fushiguro Megumi was definitely the kind of boy who was rather apathetic to what people thought of him. He cared only about one's morals, which is a telling on whether you were deserving to live or not. "Well then, let me ask you, do you think you’re boring?”

“I could honestly care less.”

She laughs at his answer. “Then how about me, am I boring?”

Turning to face her, he traces the smile stretching along her lips, her mismatched eyes – gentle, serene, ones that have seen too much and can just devour you on the spot, his favorite shades.

“You see the past, present, and future. You keep things interesting, so no.”

Smiling wider, eyes crinkling, her expression washes warmth all over him. “So that settles it, then.”

Megumi gazed at the girl before him, a warm expression on her face, (h/c) hair pulled back with strands of her right side slipping off - white strands falling against her cheek.

"Well, if it makes you feel better," he turns to her, meeting her warm, earnest gaze "I don't think you're boring." her reply came in a sing-song, a laugh following after. Then, softly, with a warm smile, she adds. "Definitely grumpy, but most definitely not boring either."

Unable to help himself, he smiles.

"Fushiguro~" a voice called up ahead - cheerily and loudly.

The two teens look up, finding her brother standing next to the two new first-years.

"Who's that with you?"

"Girlfriend?" the girl squinted her eyes at the approaching girl.

The older man snorted, unabashed as the two teens closed in. "Well, not exactly."

"Eh? Fushiguro has a girlfriend!?"

"Shut up, you're too loud." The dark-haired teen muttered, not moving away from his companion. "Talk any louder and you'll give (Y/N) a headache."

"But who's she?" the girl cut in, eyeing her curiously. The girl blinked in return, tilting her head slightly in greeting. She was wearing the same standard Jujutsu High uniform as them, except that she wore a hakama skirt for her bottoms that stopped a few inches from her knees, stockings, and a pair of boots.

"Right, right, introductions must be made~" walking up behind the two new arrivals, the silver-haired teacher planted his hands on her shoulder. "Alright, you two, this here's another freshman, Gojo (Y/N). My cutie half-sister."

"What, so she's your sis-" Kugisaki froze, much to Fushiguro's amusement, her eyes darting from the girl to her teacher repeatedly. "YOU HAVE A SISTER!?"

"Hello," she greets quietly with a short bow, blinking owlishly at the two.

Itadori, on the other hand didn’t seemed faze by the sudden news, grinning ear to ear at the new girl. "Uwa, a younger sister! She's pretty, Gojo-sensei!"

"Right, right?" the older man patted the (h/c) girl's head affectionately, with his free hand he playfully pinches the girl's cheeks. "And she gets cuter by the year!"

"Nii-sama, please stop."

Inquisitive eyes slowly slide to the two freshmen, Kugisaki realized now, rather stupidly, how different her eyes were - crystal blue eyes on the left, glimmering (e/c) on her right). Her hair was (h/c), with a streak of white on her right side, white just like her teacher's.

Turning her head, she met the brunet’s gaze. In a matter of seconds, (Y/N) was able to get a read on Kugisaki - her past and a little bit of her future. Blinking, her eyes then landed on Itadori, eyes flickering, her brows furrowing slightly - Megumi was instantly by her side, his usually hardened eyes kept on her - before softening, a soft smile on her lips directed at Itadori.

"See anything interesting?" her brother whispered, asking.

"That's for me to find out~" she replied, causing Fushiguro to roll his eyes and her brother to raise his hands in the air, a tiny shock expression on his face.

"W-What happened?" Itadori was first to ask, watching how Fushiguro gently held her head in his hands, voice soft, expression hardened as always but worry in his eyes.

"It's nothing, I'm sorry." she calls out. "Just took a peek at something I shouldn't."

"A peek? What did you see?" Kugisaki asked, this time, voice rising, the girl shifted, eyes widening.

Megumi put a hand back in warning at the short-haired girl. "Oi, back off, Kugisaki."

"She's a clairvoyant," Gojo says simply. “She can see the past, present, and future.”

Kugisaki’s response was to blink hard, eyes turning to the girl.

"Oh! So, like Jean Grey from X-Men!"

She laughed at that, eyes meeting the salmon haired boy's. "You're funny, Yuuji-kun, I like you."

Then her eyes took note of the marking under his eyes, belonging to the demon he was hosting.

Pleased with how well everyone was, especially with how the two reacted to her clairvoyant abilities, the white-haired man clapped his hands together. "Well, now that introductions are made, let's get to it, shall we?"

"Oh, oh, oh, what are we doing today, sensei?" Itadori asks enthusiastically, reminding her of a puppy.

"Hm, it's a secret!"

The brunette eyes the white-haired man with distrust, looking over her shoulder. "Hey, you can see into the future, right?"

Zipping her mouth, she playfully winks. "Sorry, no spoilers!"

"Hah!?"

"You want her to tell you what Gojo-sensei has for us, right?” Megumi asks. “It means she's not telling, even if she knows." The dark-haired teen tells her, walking off with (Y/N) beside him, who raised a palm in apology.

"What the hell!?"

"Sorry, Nobara-chan~"

"Seriously, more and more like Gojo-sensei by the day," he grumbles, hands buried in his pockets. She giggles.

Every time she wanted a peek into her future, she was met with a blank. Nothing. Then she’d pass out. It was a strange rebound with such tremendous effects on her.

Four times.

Four times did she want a peek into her future.

The first time had been a simple curiosity, she was only 4. She woke up a week later.

The second time, it was after she was presented to a group of old sorcerers, who all reeked of power and greed, eyeing her lecherously, especially at her left eye. She was 5, waking up a week and a day later. A year later, her brother would find her and free her from her prison.

The third time was when she was training with him at the Gojo estate, freshly picked Fushiguro Megumi beside her skeptical at the strange girl lurking. She was 10. Fushiguro, who had then been told of her clairvoyance after almost six-months of training under her brother, wanted proof and asked about seeing into his and her future. She told him a bit of what would happen to him, he freaked out and told her never to look into it again. She tried to look into hers again, only to blank. A week later, she woke up, Megumi by her side, holding her hand as he fought through his tears, head low guiltily.

The last time was when she was face to face with the infamous King of Curses – Sukuna Ryōmen. It started out as a harmless question by Itadori, wondering exactly how far and wide she could see, eventually directing the question about her. Out of nowhere, a curious curse popped right in.

For some reason, just hearing his voice sent goosebumps running all over her skin, the hairs behind her neck rising, her stomach to drop.

Trying to focus on her surroundings, she could faintly hear Itadori’s voice filled with worry, Kugisaki saying something beratingly, Fushiguro's harried steps as he called her name before she lost consciousness then and there.

She passed out for only three days, left eye bleeding, as it always did, but with tears streaming down her face as she woke up. Uncontrollable tears. Something was lodged in her throat. A dulling pain formed in her chest. A dreadful feeling accompanied by unfathomable sadness filling, tears just rushing out and her heart feeling like it was about to break. It was terrifying, to suddenly feel all these strange emotions.

Just before she was about to lose it, someone grabbed hold of her, pulling her into an embrace – and she just broke down.

Her wails filled the room, reverberating through the walls.

Had Megumi not been there, she wouldn't have been able to stabilize herself, lifting her burdens.

In the silence since her awakening, with these strange feelings stirred in his chest, he just held her close, tightly, and fiercely. He didn't care that his shirt was getting wet, or that his knees were hurting from kneeling, he just wanted her tears to stop.

Blood.

Soot.

Screams.

Despair.

Terror.

Fear.

Blood.

Smoke.

Blood.

Incense.

Blood.

Everywhere.

“DO IT NOW!”

Hot blood.

Angered eyes.

Screaming turning to silence.

Red.

Hot.

Red, hot rage.

Silence.

And then-

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?”

Rousing from her sleep, a weak whimper threatened to leave her mouth. Slapping a hand over, she forced it all away, swallowed it.

Whimpers turning to hard sobs, hands clamping down harder. So many unexplainable things, these strange visions. It was too much, too great for her fragile heart. Turning to her side, she was surprised to find Megumi beside her, fast asleep.

Pulling her hands away, she worried she might've disrupted his sleep, but he seemed deep in sleep, face relaxed and calm. Sighing quietly, she turned to him fully, just taking him in.

The sight caused her heart to settle, making her inside warm. Safe. Secured.

At that moment, she was able to take in every detail of her dear friend's features: sharp cheekbones, strong jawline, equally sharp nose, (unfairly) long lashes. Seeing him like this - asleep gave her a peek of his peaceful expression. Softening his usual rough and pinched default expression.

Stirring away, (unfairly) thick lashes fluttered, revealing his unmistakable greens. A Gojo's eyes may be a sea of infinite blue, a sight to behold, but she'd like to believe that it was Megumi's that rivaled the beauty of their Six Eyes.

He turned to her fully, resting on his side with his head against his folded arm, meeting her gaze with equal fervor. If only he knew how much his eyes had such an effect on her, how much power it had to quell the fear in her heart, how much strength it gave her each time.

For one with eyes so sharp, his light green eyes softened his whole features. Sometimes, they can be hardened like steel yet be as gentle as a breeze. Green, that reminded her of freshly brewed tea in spring, water trickling against stones in rivers, cherry blossoms in their early bloom, a waning lone firework, a stray star.

They laid there, staring at each other for what seemed like forever while the world slowly went on behind them.

As they lay there, she could feel herself losing into his eyes, gauging his emotions, seeing just gentleness in those green eyes. She knows enough about him to know his past, never tapping into his future, always finding herself in the present so long as those greens were on her.

Quietly reaching forward, she gently pressed her palm hand to his cheek, fingers splayed along the fine contours of his cheekbones, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. "Megumi?"

Mimicking her, his big hands were on her cheek, he leaned against her touch, eyes never breaking away, never ceasing. "Yeah, (Y/N)?"

And then, one of the shoji doors broke, revealing Itadori, Kugisaki, and Gojo, who all fell ungraciously to the floor. (Y/N) rose in alarm, at her now broken door, and by the three intruders.

Itadori lifted his head, wearing a sheepish look on his face, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

"Ara, we've been caught~" says her brother, looking anything but apologetic.

"You idiots!" And then there was Kugisaki, red in the face, berating at the two.

Megumi could only sigh angrily, burying his head into the pillows, wishing he were asleep again.

"Hey, how does it work exactly?"

With a hum, she lifts her head, meeting light brown eyes belonging to one Itadori Yuuji.

"How does what work?" she repeated. "My jujutsu?" she guessed, to which he nodded at.

"I mean, I get clairvoyance is like seeing the future and all, you're like Gojo-sensei in terms of having a big pool of cursed energy so you do other stuff like manipulate paper-" stopping, he ruffles his hair frustratingly at his words. "Ah, I'm rambling!" (Y/N) laughs at this, waiting patiently on him. "What I meant it, how does your clairvoyance work?" leaning over, he then notices the objects in front of her. “What’cha doing, by the way?”

“My daily readings,” she explained, voice soft.

“Daily readings? Using cards?”

She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she laid an arm below her stacked cards.

“It’s something I do almost every morning.”

“But can’t you see the future?”

“Correct, but I can’t exactly predict how it’ll go down. Sometimes, my visions can be too vague and come in more than a singularity.” Brows pinching together, she lays her other arm, adjacent to her stacked cards. “More often than not, they could change at the last minute, depending on the person. So I use my cards to at least give me a hint.”

“Oh, I see!” smacking his hand against his open palm, Itadori exclaims in shock. “But that sounds like extra work if you ask me.”

“True.” She stares at her stack of cards, at the edges of each card – some were slightly folded and withered after years of use.

“Are these yours?”

“Yes,” she bobs her head, (h/c) hair bouncing.” they are.”

“I’ve only seen fortune tellers in TV Dramas or movies.”

She laughs. “That’s true. But I’m half a Gojo, if you remember.” Staring back at the cards, she hovers a hand over them affectionately. “These were a gift from my brother.”

“Oh, Gojo-sensei?”

She nods once at the black and white and shades of grey. “When he knew the extent of my clairvoyance, he bought this just for me shortly after I was rescued, to extend my cursed energy in other mediums.”

“Rescued?” Itadori’s face immediately paints with concern and alarm.

“I was kidnapped as a child, you see, due to my being a half Gojo and my clairvoyance.”

“I’m sorry I asked.” Itadori says, looking bothered and saddened.

Shaking her head, she fingers at the nearest card, a faint smile on her lips. “It’s alright, you didn’t know.”

“So…” he starts, face contorting a bit as he works out a question carefully. “…do you also use a crystal ball?”

She actually snorted at that. “No! Localized divinations are a bit tricky for me, since I’m not entirely a native. But I can use some methods, but for me, cards, crystals, and the stars work best for me.” Remembering her question, she lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Technically, yes, I can use a crystal ball.”

Humming, with his hands on his chin, Itadori contemplates on his next question. “Gojo-sensei’s your brother, right?”

She nods. “My only living relative, yes.”

“How come?”

She gives a one-shoulder shrug. “I don’t know the other half of my family, really. My memories of my mother are faint. I’ve only remembered her crying before waking up in a strange land where strange men were watching me.”

“That’s horrible.” The look of sadness returns to his face, affected by her past. It touches her, how emphatic Itadori Yuuji was.

“How about you, Yuuji-kun?”

“Huh? Didn’t you read me already?”

“Yes, but only to an extent. I can’t read you fully without your permission.”

“Woah, is that how it works?”

“It’s a personal condition of mine.” She explains. “I don’t want to intrude and cheat the system.”

He pondered on this. Honestly, he was tiptoeing with his questions because the last time he asked her, Sukuna intervened and caused a ruckus with her falling into a coma – a drawback of her trying to peek into her future – that made Fushiguro infinitely angry with him for days.

Speaking of that spiky-haired teen. "Then can you see Fushiguro's future?"

She blinked at that, lips set to a thin line. "Megumi? Hmm, I can and can't."

"What's that's supposed to mean?" he frowns, confused.

Smile growing, she furthers. "Exactly as it is."

Frown deepening, his lips upturned. "Sheesh, you talk in riddles, you sound a bit like Gojo-sensei."

"Now you sound like Megumi." Itadori winces lightly, probably at the comparison, which made her laugh more. When her laughter died down, she watched as he stares at the cards before her, intrigued. "After all,” following his line of sight, she plucked a card out from her deck – a downturned ‘Queen of Pentacles’ presented to them both. “I made a promise."

To Itadori, said card drew about intrigue and awe.

To (Y/N), who didn’t mind that he didn’t answer her question, she glanced at the boy in concern, thinking, ‘It answered, no. I wonder what wanted, what obstacle he has to go through first.’

More than anything, he hated seeing her lonely.

She could be alone with her thoughts, but those thoughts of hers tend to be dangerous for a clairvoyant. Sometimes, her thoughts were not her own and she'd tend to dwell on the possibilities of these thoughts, these truths in her hands. It was only a matter of time if she should interfere and change the course of it. Most of the time though, she doesn’t really interfere.

It happened once though, they were 13, just bordering on puberty and entering a new stage into their lives. In the middle of Shibuya crosswalk, she had chased down a man in a suit, urging him to not do something, practically begging. The man, scared and confused at this strange girl, shrug her off and hurriedly went to the other side of the road. Megumi had to pick her up, fear in her now pale face, as the man disappeared from sight.

Later that day, the same man had been beaten, raped, and burned alive. And on his birthday.

Horrified, she promised never to do it again.

Hence, her 'not wanting to cheat the system' mantra was born.

Little acts of kindness, they were what she wanted to offer instead. Regardless of who was the recipient of said kindness, to her, she believed everyone deserved it. It was something that people might forget, but at least it eased something in their unforeseen future for a while.

During her nightly readings, the stars always had a lot to offer her, a lot to things to keep her in the know, things to burden her with.

He was a man of secrets, but his were no way as big as hers, who had to bear the secrets of many. But even he knew the dangers of being a keeper of said secrets, enough to know that its weight can be unbearable.

So many things filled her head that it unnerved her.

He feared for her. Greatly.

Which is why he makes it a point to check on her time to time – texting her when they were away from each other, visiting her at the Gojo manor, or calling her.

They were peeling oranges in the Gojo manor, huddled in a kotatsu since fall was just ending and winter was coming early, when suddenly, they heard fireworks going off. Immediately, (Y/N) dashed out, leaped from the engawa.

"(Y/N)!" Megumi was on his feet, chasing after her.

Her feet slapped against the stoned ground, the freshly cut grass, towards the cliffside railing of the manor. Holding against the wooden railing, she leaned forward to watch the fireworks going off in the distance, breaking into a smile – childish glee, at the burst of colors decorating the night sky.

"What kind of idiot just lets fireworks fly off like that?” came Megumi’s voice, a little hoarse from giving chase. “It's not even New Year's anymore, nor are there any festivals."

She laughs but enjoys as more colors fill the sky, folding her arms against each other.

Colors filled up the night sky, a beautiful display of vibrant lights from flaming torches, burning bright. Yes, they were a sight to behold.

However, they were nowhere near the sight of one Gojo (Y/N) with her entire face lighting up.

For as long as they've known each other, they were always together, always.

And even when apart - because of missions - they still found a way to each other. He texted her when he can, a small white dog charm dangling off his phone.

His pinkie would curl around hers when they walked, always next to each other, uncaring who saw, just wanting her close, keep her safe.

As, what seemed to be, the last of the fireworks burst, its end trails fizzing out – leaving trails of smoke scattering about, (Y/N)’s voice broke out. “Ah, that must be from that man Nobara-chan bumped into earlier.”

“Kugisaki?”

“Hm!” she half-turned to him, folded arms still on the railing. “We were shopping earlier when we bumped into this man, loading some boxes into his truck. Nobara-chan complained that he might be a sketchy guy, even after I talked her into helping him.”

He could only imagine, even if Kugisaki was a brash and prideful girl, she wasn’t entirely cruel. She could be nice. Keyword: could be.

“Why were you even shopping with her?”

“Eh, well,” returning her gaze forward, she thrummed her fingers against her skin. “she was complaining about my clothes. And said it was kinda tacky and outdated.” Usually, she was dressed in modern kimonos courtesy of her brother, who thought they’d look good on her.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t really care what people thought of you?”

“Yes…” she chewed on her lower lip before continuing. “I don’t really have much female friends, Megumi.”

Ah. “Ah.”

So, she wanted a touch of her femininity, huh. The only female she was close with was Tsumiki, his older sister who was still in a coma, Ieiri-san, Utahime-san, and Maki-san. Except, they were either too busy, unavailable, or have zero interest in anything girly to entertain (Y/N). Kugisaki, after recovering from discovering another Gojo in their midst, who was her age and female, was ecstatic and immediately befriended the younger Gojo.

Other than that, Megumi couldn’t really think of other friends of hers, for he was her only friend, and she his.

Suddenly, a memory came to mind: kids running away from her, their voices were muted but he remembered the sadness from her face. Of course.

"Do you hate it?" he ended up asking, hating himself for it. Sensing his eyes on her, he furthers, rather heavily. "Your clairvoyance?"

Silence filled in.

Beside him, slowly, his hands balled into fists, feeling them tighten, nails biting into his skin, shaking lightly.

"I do.” She admits, dropping her head. “I mean, do you know what it's like to be the burden of knowing it all yet saying nothing at the same time? That you have people's fates right in your fingertips, that you could save a great many, yet you're limited to do so?"

His brows knit together, glaring hard into wood. No, he doesn't know what it's like, but he can imagine. He could only remember the times she was abducted – attempted to, actually, had she not seen it coming and alarmed Megumi, who was with her at the time, could only remember the many glasses or ceramics that'd cut her from sudden visions followed by apologies leaving her lips, could only remember the nights she awoke from a terrible vision, the pain after each and every vision. He couldn't imagine, but he never ever wants her to bear it all. He hated her clairvoyance, hated how it came at a cost.

"I mean, I guess that's the price to pay for someone who could see it all." she casually says, voicing his turmoil. Angrily, he turns up, ready to retort when he saw the soft look in her eyes. "But if anything, the least I could do is try and lessen that burden. I don't like telling people their futures, that's just plain cheating. I'd rather not speak of major events, unless it could help a great many, unless it can help change minds. There's too much and I'm just me. But at the very least," turning to him, seeing the smile on her face, curls his heart. "I could try."

Truly, she was too nice for this world.

Relaxing his shoulders, he leaned in, pressed his palms against her cheeks, his forehead against hers.

"Me-Megumi?"

He remained like that for a while, just taking in the feel of her against his fingertips, their foreheads touching, feel her breath against his face, and her scent.

"Sweet."

"Huh?"

Opening his eyes, he met her gaze, and said, rather seriously. "You smell sweet, too sweet."

Unable to help herself, she broke into laughter, her laugh cutting through the silence of the night. A sweet, gentle sound.

With every fiber of his being, he wished that he could see her sweet smile for the rest of his life.

Red.

Everything was muted – colors, sounds, except for red.

Long petals curving backward, narrow segments, looming tall against the ground.

Red.

It was red in color, almost like blood.

A field of them made it as though it were a field of blood.

A body laid in the middle of it all, head pulled back, eyes gazing upwards.

Everything was muted, not a color in sight but red.

Deep, rich, vibrant red.

It surrounded her like a warm embrace, petals kissing her clothes, her hair, her fingertips, her cheeks, stained her clothes.

Life was leaving her, taking in shallow breaths that came shorter and shorter.

Everything was muted, yet she could still tell that everything was supposed to be painted in warm palettes – rich earthy tones of Autumn.

With her final breath – puff leaving her lips, as the first snow-kissed her lips, she says aloud into the unknown, "I'm sorry,"

She understood now why she'd blackout if she took a peek into her future, why she'd go days sleeping, waking up without an answer whatsoever.

The future was full of disparities, mysteries, and wonders.

Each person had something waiting for them.

Except for her.

Hers always drew a blank.

When forced, she’d be silenced and wake up days later.

After her third attempt, with Megumi crying beside her, she never bothered.

Like she said, she didn’t want to cheat the system and leave the future to come her way.

But since her future always drew a blank, she’d never know what would become of her.

Until now.

Hacking a cough, blood splattering, she met the sadistic, cold gaze of the King of Curses himself, his hand buried deep into her chest cavity, warm blood all over his skin and trailing down on him.

For a split second, she could have sworn she heard Itadori – sweet, kind, gentle, selfless Itadori – screaming profanities at the guest of his body, apologizing to her over and over.

"I waited for this for a thousand years,"

It's alright, Yuji-kun.

“I told you, didn’t I?” he said, coldly, eyes smoldering, digging his hand deep into her chest until his hands found her beating heart. "If ever we meet again in this lifetime or the next,” each word that left his mouth were laced with pure unadulterated rage, a thousand years’ worth of it. “I'd kill you the first chance I get."

With a jerk of his hand, the sound of flesh being torn, blood splattering, he flourished her heart in his hand.

It was a fate she couldn’t escape, one she hadn’t foreseen, one kept in the deepest, darkest part of her psyche - she would die at the hands of Itadori Yūji – unbecoming, since he was but a vessel, then have her heart devoured by Sukuna Ryōmen.

For hidden in her heart – by some strange, powerful, archaic jujutsu spell – was King of Curses’ final piece.

Without care, he tossed her body aside, turning as it drops to the ground.

Above her, the stars shined brightly - so many things were being told all at once, so many secrets unearthed, but so little time.

Five seconds.

With the heart ripped circulation would stop, and the blood pressure would drop to zero. The brain might still function for a few seconds.

Even as the body purges out one’s open chest cavity, you are given five achingly last seconds to be aware, to stay conscious.

As the shock of the situation wears down, she came to realize a few things.

Five.

There, she realized, with what little life she had left - that she never had the chance to say goodbye. To everyone – her dear friends at Jujutsu High, her wonderful mentors, kind acquaintances.

Four.

She never had the chance to say thank you, to her big brother, for saving her life and giving her the freedom to do what she wanted to do, for protecting her. For loving her. He, who only wanted the best for her, spoiling her rotten with gifts and affection because she was nearly rid of them all had he not picked up on a Gojo hidden away. He, who taught her just how to live in a crippled system, surrounded by people with easily corrupted hearts, that there’s still a chance of righting the wrongs. He, who loved her with his whole heart - just as she loved him.

Three.

Sorry, she never had the chance to say sorry when it counted, when it mattered. That she been selfish to keep some people from dying – Kento-san, Aoi-senpai, all because she ‘didn’t want to cheat the system’. She was no saint, she was a horrible, wretched, selfish person for wanting to spend time with them even though a grim future awaited.

Two.

Neither will she ever get the chance to tell Fushiguro Megumi – dark-haired, spiky-haired, broody, secretive, undeniably stubborn, recklessly strong, beautiful, kind Megumi, that, from the first moment they met, from the very bottom of her heart, with each passing moment spent, with every fiber of her being, she loved him. She loved him. So, so, so much.

One-

"(Y/N)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

#alicemitch09 writes #fushiguro megumi #reader-insert #reader insert #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru #gojo!reader #clairvoyant!reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk fic #fushiguro megumi angst #jujutsu kaisen angst

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

Butterfly Into Chains, Chapter 22

Esme went into her nest, absolutely devastated about what had happened. She shrugged the Alphas off and hit out at them when they tried to assure her. She just wanted to be alone in her nest.

‘I thought omegas didn’t use their nest after giving birth.’ Said Chris.

‘They don’t normally. But she’s been through some trauma so will be seeking a safe place.’ David said quietly.

‘We will need to get her out of there. Take her out somewhere to cheer her up.’ Michael suggested.

‘Not yet. Let her grieve.’ Tom said firmly. ‘But someone needs to be in here at all times, to keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s ok and doesn’t hurt herself.’

The pack nodded in agreement.

Michael sat outside the cupboard, he put his hand inside in hopes she might hold it. But she didn’t. He could hear quiet sobs coming from her.

‘Esme… darling. I know you’re upset, you feel like your heart has been ripped out... But I saw the faces of the couple when they held their new baby girl… They were so happy. You gave them a wonderful gift, a gift that they wouldn’t have been able to have themselves.’

‘Co… Could they not have kids of their own?’ She asked quietly.

Michael turned and pushed the blanket open a little to see her. She looked utterly broken and exhausted. He smiled softly at her. ‘Not an om’

‘Not a child of their own, no.’ Tom said over Michael as he appeared and crouched down to see her. He had a bowl of cereal for her.

Esme looked down, swallowing hard. ‘I just… I really became fond of the idea of having a child.’ Tears streamed down her face.

‘I know, lovely. But you’re young, there’s plenty of time in the future to have one of your own, to keep. Right now, you are doing something wonderful for other couples. Helping them to have children that they crave so badly.’ Tom spoke quietly.

She curled herself up, tucking her knees under her chin. She didn’t say anything, just stared at the wall. She was so conflicted. On the one hand she wanted to help people, so the thought that she made another couple happy was… nice… ish. But on the other hand, she felt betrayed by her Alphas. They hadn’t told her about what was going to happen, they just took her baby away from her without any explanation at all.

‘Esme.’ Tom said softly, stroking her cheek. She jumped and moved away from his touch. ‘Come on out, let us talk properly. Let us hold you.’

She shook her head and tried to move further into the corner, away from him.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ She asked, bravely looking at him. More tears falling.

‘We didn’t want to stress you out while you were pregnant. I know it may have seemed a little harsh the way we did it, but it was for the best. If you’d had time to hold her, it would’ve been a million times worse.’ Tom reached out and circled his fingers around her ankle, rubbing her skin with his thumb.

Esme didn’t respond, she leaned against the cushions at the back and closed her eyes.

‘Come on out and have something to eat.’ Tom sat up more, just half inside the cupboard.

She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’ She whispered.

‘Esme.’ Tom said firmly. ‘You need to eat.’

Esme closed her eyes as she felt a shiver run through her, not a good one. She didn’t like it when Tom used that tone. But she really didn’t think she could stomach any food right now.

‘Tom.’ David said quietly as he came through to the bedroom.

Tom clenched his jaw but leaned out to look at David.

‘Let me. Michael wants to speak to you anyway.’ David said and nodded to the door.

Tom looked at Esme once more before handing the bowl of cereal to David, he gave him a look and then headed out to find Michael.

David crouched down and shuffled just inside of the cupboard, with the cereal. He looked at Esme and felt his heart sinking completely. He reached over and rubbed her arm, feeling a little hurt when she flinched at his touch.

‘I know you’re hurting, poppet. What we did to you without telling you has been… inexcusable. But we just want to help other people, and be able to give you everything you could ever need or want. To be able to spoil you… But we should’ve told you from the start, I know this.’ He sighed and ran his hand down his face.

He didn’t think it would be this difficult. He knew they would all fall in love with their omega, it was inevitable. But he never in a million years thought the process of actually selling the babies and dealing with the aftermath would be so difficult and heart breaking.

‘You need to eat, Esme. I know you don’t feel like it right now, but it will help you. And you need to get your strength back.’ He said softly as he moved further into the nest, glad when she didn’t lash out at him or cringe further away.

‘Please… I don’t want to.’ She whispered.

‘I know, but you need to. If you don’t eat willingly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tom forces you to. Come on, pet... Do it for me?’ He pleaded, begging her with his eyes when she actually looked at him.

She slowly sat up next to him. He scooped some cereal onto the spoon and started feeding her. ‘Good girl, Esme.’ He praised when she started eating.

Esme ate about half of what was there, then she just started crying again and pushed at David’s hand.

‘No more… please.’ She cried.

David put the bowl down and put his arm around her, he was relieved when she gave in and hugged into him. She buried her face into his chest and really started crying, letting it all out again. David rubbed her back and rocked her back and fore a bit. ‘Shhh, shhh. It’s alright, poppet. It’s going to be alright.’

David just held Esme for a while, soothing her until she was all cried out. He kissed the top of her head and then picked up the last of the cereal and started eating it himself.

‘What Tom doesn’t know won’t kill him.’ He winked at Esme and was happy when she managed a small smile for him.

Michael was in the kitchen waiting to speak to Tom while David sorted Esme.

‘Why did you lie to her?’ Michael frowned.

‘Why were you going to tell her the truth?’ Tom countered, earning a glare from Michael.

‘I didn’t want to lie to her.’ Michael huffed.

‘If she knew that the only reason we sold her child is because the couple wanted an omega or Alpha, that wouldn’t have made her feel any better. Having her think we sell the babies because couples can’t have children at all, will make it easier for her. It’s only a small white lie, one she doesn’t need to know.’ Tom said as he folded his arms over his chest.

Michael sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Ok, fine. I guess that makes sense.’

‘Has she eaten yet?’ Ben asked, leaning on the island counter.

‘Not yet. David is trying with her now.’ Tom sighed.

‘Is it just me, or does David seem rather effected by this too?’ Chris asked.

‘He does a bit, yes.’ Michael nodded. ‘I have a feeling the baby was maybe his.’

The Alphas all looked at him in bewilderment. ‘How do you know?’ Tom frowned.

‘Well… she did look a bit like him, his features. I get the feeling he maybe sensed more of a connection while Esme was pregnant and that’s why he seems to be taking this harder than the rest of us.’ Michael said and Ben agreed, since he was the only other one who actually saw Esme’s baby.

‘The whole idea of there being five of us breeding her is so that none of us get effected in that way.’ Tom grumbled and started pacing back and fore.

‘He seems ok though, nowhere near as bad as Esme.’ Said Ben.

‘He knows this is what the end game was all along, if he can’t deal with it, he knows where the door is.’ Tom said coldly before leaving the kitchen.

‘We should keep an eye on David. If it was his baby, he will be hurting to an extent too. No matter what Tom says, he’s still our friend at the end of the day.’ Chris said to the other two.

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Michael said as he nodded and so did Ben.

The following day, David managed to coax Esme out of her nest. He got her outside for some fresh air and while they were out, Tom and Chris dismantled her nest in the cupboard. She shouldn’t need it anymore, so they decided to just take it away until she was next pregnant, then they would rebuild it for her.

She was upset when she returned to find it was just a cupboard again. But her inner instincts weren’t screaming at her to need one, so she didn’t make too much of a fuss about it.

The Alphas were happy to have her back in their bed that night. She was still a bit tense and iffy around them, aside from David. She kept seeking him out the most, snuggling into him when possible.

Ben, Michael and Chris understood and thought it would be best anyway. If the baby was David’s, they could both get through it together for now. Tom wasn’t best pleased, but he was giving them some space for now, thinking since it was her first-time giving birth it was bound to be difficult for her.

They were all having lunch together at the dining table one day, Esme was quiet, as she had been since the birth.

‘After lunch, let’s go into town. Get some ice cream and go to the beach.’ Tom suggested with a big smile as he looked at Esme across the table.

He had been expecting her face to light up completely and for her to wolf down her lunch at the thought of going out. But instead she just nodded, with a tight-lipped smile.

Esme felt a little bit happier when they did end up out and about though. She had been disappointed with the fact that David wasn’t coming, he had to go to work for a while with Michael and Chris. So it was just Tom and Ben who took her out.

They went for an ice cream first, Tom got her a double of her favourite which put a proper smile on her face. More so when Ben foolishly lost his ice cream to a seagull that came swooping down at him and stole it right out of his hand. Esme and Tom nearly peed themselves from laughing so much.

When they headed down to the beach, Esme had actually forgotten about her worries and upset. She enjoyed the sea breeze on her face and paddling in the sea. Tom and Ben gave her lots of hugs and kisses, making her feel a little fuzzy and happy again.

But it all came to a grinding halt when they were walking along the beach front and a couple passed them by with a baby in a pram. Esme stopped dead and watched as they walked by, everything suddenly came flooding back to her.

She started crying hysterically on the spot, shaking and falling to the ground. People around looked on, confused and worried.

But Tom and Ben swooped in and took hold of her arms, lifting her up they carried her kicking and screaming back to the car.

#butterfly into chains #fan fiction #tom hiddleston #david tennant #chris evans #michael fassbender #benedict cumberbatch

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