It was one of those mornings that started off completely fine…until it wasn’t.
YN’s phone call had come just as Lando was getting the kids dressed for media day.
“Love, there’s a work emergency,” she’d said, voice tight. “You’ll have to take them yourself.”
“All three of them?”
“Yes, all three.”
“You owe me so much for this, even if they're our children.”
“I already know.”
And with that, Lando Norris was on dad duty — solo.
He was already running late, the twins were arguing over a single sock, and Aurora was twirling in her pink princess dress like she was about to attend a royal ball.
“Alright, team Norris,” Lando clapped his hands, trying to sound upbeat. “Let’s get ready for—”
“I’m wearing this!” Aurora announced, lifting the hem of her sparkly tulle skirt. “It’s my Belle dress!”
Lando blinked. “You’ve been wearing that since breakfast.”
She nodded proudly. “I’m a princess.”
Theo appeared next, wearing pajama shorts, a hoodie two sizes too big, and one of Lando’s McLaren caps backwards.
“You look…” Lando squinted. “Stylish?”
Theo shrugged. “It’s comfy.”
And then came Milo. The youngest strutted in wearing mismatched shoes, a Lightning McQueen t-shirt, and sunglasses that were definitely from the kids’ section of a petrol station.
“Ready, daddy!” Milo shouted, striking a pose.
Lando just stared at them — his chaotic, tiny trio — and sighed.
“Alright,” he muttered. “We’re going as is.”
By the time they reached the paddock, Lando’s sanity was hanging by a thread. Aurora insisted on holding his hand and twirling every five steps. Theo was walking while eating the cereal bar Lando had told him not to bring, and Milo kept shouting “PAPA’S CAR FAST!!” to random mechanics.
Fans were already gathered outside the gates, phones up, snapping photos. The moment the Norris family arrived, chaos turned into pandemonium.
“Is that Aurora in a princess dress?!”
“Milo’s sunglasses are killing me!”
“Theo looks like mini-Lando with that hoodie!”
Someone even shouted,
“PRINCESS OF MCLAREN!”
Lando couldn’t help but laugh, embarrassed and proud all at once.
“Okay, guys, stick together. No running— Milo! I said no— oh, brilliant.”
Milo was now running toward the McLaren hospitality area yelling, “I go see Oscar!”
Oscar Piastri turned around mid-conversation and burst out laughing.
“Nice outfit choice, mate,” he said, crouching to fist-bump the tiny speedster.
“I fast like daddy,” Milo declared.
“Faster, probably,” Oscar teased, glancing up at Lando.
“Don’t encourage him,” Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. “YN’s gonna kill me when she sees what they’re wearing.”
Aurora, meanwhile, was holding court with one of the PR team members, showing off her tiara.
“Do you know I’m Princess Norris?” she said matter-of-factly. “My daddy drives a race car. That makes him the king.”
Theo was standing off to the side, munching on a cookie like a quiet bodyguard. Every now and then, he’d mumble, “She’s dramatic,” when Aurora twirled too close.
When the media interviews started, the chaos only grew.
“Lando, we’ve got a special guest with you today!”
“Actually, three,” he sighed, motioning to the tiny tornadoes.
Aurora waved at the camera. “Hi, I’m Belle.”
Theo looked at the interviewer and said, “We’re late because daddy can’t find socks.”
Lando nearly choked. “Okay, that’s— that’s not necessary information, bud.”
Then Milo grabbed the microphone.
“PAPA’S CAR FAST!”
The entire media pen burst into laughter. Cameras flashed. Someone posted the moment instantly, captioned:
“Lando Norris bringing the best pit crew in F1 history 🧡👑🚗”
YN’s text buzzed a minute later.
YN: I just saw the video. Why is Aurora in a ball gown?
Lando: Because arguing with a princess is a losing battle.
YN: And Theo’s outfit??
Lando: Artistic freedom.
YN: Milo’s sunglasses?
Lando: …I gave up.
Another video appeared online of Aurora sitting on Lando’s lap in the McLaren motorhome while he answered questions. She was fixing his hair mid-interview, and he just let her.
“Does daddy drive fast?” a journalist asked her.
Aurora nodded solemnly. “Yes. But he still can’t do my ponytail right.”
Lando laughed so hard he couldn’t answer the next question.
By the end of the day, he was exhausted — but when the kids finally dozed off in the car, still wearing their ridiculous outfits, he couldn’t stop smiling.
He took a picture and sent it to YN.
Lando: The royal family of McLaren, sleeping after a long day.
YN: You did good, King Norris.
Lando: I survived. Barely.
He looked in the rearview mirror — Aurora clutching her tiara, Theo hugging his hoodie like a blanket, Milo snoring softly.
Can we get more dad poly marauders? Especially with a newborn? 🙂↕️
dad!marauders x mum!reader who is 'mental', apparently [837 words]
CW: afab!reader, ~kid fic, hospitals, post labour, comfort & fluff
The hubbub had died down and the sun had set, leaving the hospital room bathed in the blue glow of monitors and call buttons, no one left but you, your partners, and your newest family member.
Sirius was passed out in a horribly uncomfortable looking chair, lips parted in a silent snore as he let his head hang at a god-awful angle promising pain tomorrow.
Remus couldn’t seem to stop moving, though, folding (and refolding, you’re quite sure) the contents of both your hospital bag and the baby’s hospital bag to Tetris level perfection.
And James — yet to wipe the beaming smile on his face — sat in a rocker near your bed, shirtless with a tiny bundle tucked against his bare chest and a blanket around them both.
You let out a pleased breath.
“This is just so mental.” James repeats disbelievingly.
You scoff out a laugh that hurts everywhere at the same moment Remus lets out a tired sigh, letting the swaddle he’d been (re)folding fall back into the bag.
“Jamie, please stop calling our newborn daughter mental.” Remus begs with an air of exhaustion.
“But she’s just so bloody tiny!” James insists, and you apparently didn’t learn your lesson the first time because this manages to elicit another (painful) derisive scoff.
“Yeah, sure. Try telling that to my crotch, Potter.”
Remus — with no shortage of adoration — turns to smile at you in both amusement and sympathy whilst James only turns to direct his (still beaming) smile onto you.
“I know angel, I’m sorry. I think you’re mental too.”
“Gee thanks, bubs.” You huff good naturedly, though Remus abandons his habitual folding in favour of fussing over you and you worry you didn't appear as affable as you meant to.
“I think what our darling partner meant to say” Remus offers pointedly, perching on the edge of the bed beside your hip “is that you’re phenomenal.”
“I don’t feel that phenomenal.” You counter, tongue apparently loose in your current state.
“No?” Remus hums, a thumb swiping over your brow. “How do you feel?”
You take a moment to take inventory of your body. You’re not sure what hurts and what might just be phantom pains; ghosts of past hurts that the adrenaline couldn’t wipe away. You think everything might hurt but you’re also not sure you can actually feel much of your body at all. You’re quite sure you’ve strained muscles you didn’t even know you had, and you can’t figure out how the muscles above your chest bone hurt from labour, but they do.
So, you settle on “tired.”
“Yeah?” Remus asks at the same time James offers an encouraging, “Try to rest then, angel.”
Your eyes flit over to Sirius — unfairly jealous that the man has found slumber in the most uncomfortable of places whilst you’re propped up on a certified tower of pillows and can’t seem to shake this sense of urgency.
“It doesn’t feel like the right time.”
James repositions your daughter on his chest as Remus hums in acknowledgment, encouraging you to continue.
“I feel like I have to be ready for something.”
“You’ve already done the hard part, dove.” Remus offers firmly but gently. “You’ve done what none of us can, you’re entitled to a rest now.”
“But what if she’s hungry?” You ask, somewhat embarrassingly close to tears for seemingly no reason as you peep the small head of hair visible at James’ collar.
“She’s quite content right now, lovely.” James counters with a smile so full of love that the stinging of your sinuses make its way to your waterline.
“If she’s hungry she will tell us and then we will tell you, okay?” Remus agrees, shifting higher up onto your bed to take your face in his hands. “You have three partners here to take over.”
With this, Sirius lets out a sharp snore due to his head falling forward, seeing him reposition himself; dark hair falling in waves over the backrest as his snores increase in volume with his new position.
“Well, you have two partners here to take over.” Remus amends, shooting Sirius a look you imagine is meant to be scornful but is too soft around the edges to be anything short of loving.
“Rest, angel.” James insists softly, the wattage of his beaming smile less bright though not lacking any love or glee despite it. “We’ve got it.”
You suck in a breath that is shaky on its way out, your body sinking further into the hospital bed without your permission as Remus repositions the blankets around you.
“She’s okay?”
“She’s perfect.” Remus replies.
“Just like her mum.” James agrees.
“Rest, dove.”
And you have half a mind of cursing your body for hardly putting up a fight at all as Remus brushes a gentle thumb back and forth over the space between your brows, blinks growing heavier and heavier before your lashes meet in a gentle kiss, another gentle kiss pressed to your forehead as sleep greets you into its sweet embrace.
Always meant to be (dad!steve x mum!reader s5 rewrite) Masterlist
Series Summary: in autumn '86 during the fight with vecna you and Steve find out you are pregnant, now in autumn of ‘87, your baby is almost 1 year old and the world is ending again, but this time you are parents.
Series Relations: Only romantic x reader: Steve and reader used to be bff, then became estranged and now are a couple. - series includes also the following platonic relationships that will be explored in different chapters: past bff!Jonathan x reader, like a big sister bff!dustin x reader (like witj steve), father figure!hopper x reader, like a big sister reader x max, bff!robin x reader.
Series Warnings: Dad!Steve x Mum!Reader, they have a 1 years old. Cute parents but risk too much. Set in S5 with flashbacks of in between seasons. Past pregnant!reader.Could be considered young pregnancy romanticisation as they were 20 . Canon strnager things events . More warnings in the single parts. steve and reader flirts dirty sometimes, similar to robin’s canon dick joke. Occasional swearing Canon strnager things events . format is weird idk what is going on the laptop looks fine and on the phone is awful
1 (Prologue)
2 (Episode 5.1: The morning of the Crawl )
3 (Episode 5.1 Pt2: The Crawl )
4 (Episode 5.2-3 The final crawl)
5 (Episode 5.3: the calm before the storm)
6 (Episode 5.3-4:) Ch 6 Robin wins best best friend award
7 (Episode 5.4)
8 (Episode 5.5)
9 (Episode 5.6) The revelation
10 (Episode 5.6) out mid may
11 (Episode 5.7)
12 (Episode 5.7)
13 (Episode 5.8)
14 (Episode 5.8)
15 (Episode 5.8)
14 (post canon): the end
My other FFs that can be considered in the same universe (to read before)
hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!
-🪷
"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed
building blocks
dad!james potter x mom!reader
summary: your husband and son are equally obsessed with you, and james finds out what your little one does when he's not so nice to you ⊹ 1.1k
warnings: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old
· ─ ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─ ·
James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.
He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.
Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.
Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.
"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.
Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.
That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.
He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.
You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.
By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"
"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.
You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.
"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."
You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.
"...build a castle!?"
“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.
James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”
Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.
Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.
You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.
“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”
“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”
Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"
He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.
Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"
"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.
"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.
"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.
James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"
"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"
He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.
"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.
He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.
"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."
"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.
"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.
"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"
Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.
You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"
Hellooo, so I am obsessed with the James Potter fic and can’t help but think of how James would react if he caught Harry writing a letter for Ginny the same way he did for reader? Or maybe his daughter received a letter from someone?
Like Father, Like Son
Dad!James Potter x Reader
Summary: James discovers Harry has inherited his lover boy gene…
Warnings: Mum!Reader x Dad!James, reader is referred to as Harry’s mother with she/her pronouns, not edited.
Word Count: 1K
Masterlist
A/N: I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! Thank you so much for the request! This acts as a sequel to this series, but feel free to read it as a stand alone one shot <3
——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————
“Dear Ginny,
there have been three occasions in my life when I’ve known what love is.
The first was watching my parents fall in love more and more everyday, reminiscing on their years spent as high school sweethearts. My dad had confessed to my mum in a series of love letters, initially anonymous before she found him out. They’ve been together ever since, and I long for a love like theirs.
The second time I knew love, it was platonic. My best friends mean the world to me, and they’ve shown me more love in these past few years of school than I’d ever known before. I can trust them with my deepest, darkest secrets, and for that I am truely grateful.
The third time was brought on by you. Ginny Weasley, I’m in love with-“
“Need any help with that holiday homework, love?”
James peaked his ever messy head of hair around the young Potter’s door, balancing a plate of his various house husband specialties in his hand.
Harry flushed with a wide-eyed shock, frozen in place as James pushed further into the room and placed the food on his desk.
“N-no, thanks dad! It’s uh…it’s not hard!” Harry managed to stutter out in reply after a beat, eyeing James curiously as he dotted around the room.
“What do you have there? Is that potions?” James lit up, scurrying over to Harry’s desk, “You know, your mother and I excelled in potions in seventh year! I was head over heels-“
He paused, glancing between the letter on Harry’s desk and his son’s sheepish grin, his eyebrows furrowed in the guilt of being caught.
“My boy…” James began, “Is that a love letter?” Harry looked away, worry clouding his features as he often sought to avoid conversations about love with his dad - he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.
“You really are my son!” James exclaimed, running on the spot to release some pent up energy, “Oh, this is great! Who’s it for? Have I met her? Or him! You know I’d never judge-“
“It’s for Ginny, dad,” Harry groaned, interrupting the man who was behaving like a fourteen year old boy. “The Weasley girl?” James paused as Harry winced. “I know she’s my best friend’s sister, but-“
“She’s lovely! Oh, this is perfect! Yes, what a sweet girl - such a welcoming family, her parents are such a treat-“ James rambled as he paced his son’s room, ignoring the way Harry released the breath he held as he broke the news to his dad.
Harry always prayed his parents would never succumb to the expectations of blood status, marrying him off to some pretentious pure blood girl when he’d rather be with the quick witted red head who stole his heart.
Today, it seemed, those prayers had been answered.
“C’mon, son, let me help! I’m good at this, you know, swept your mother right off of her feet! A poet, she had called me, yes! What have you written so far?”
——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————
You pressed your key into the lock of your front door, twisting and turning to release the latch and enter the warmth of your home.
Letting out a shuddering breath from the frost that hit your neck in the street, you plunged into your hallway, throwing off your coat, bag and shoes before shuffling to the living room fireplace.
“Jamie,” you breathed, smiling with adoration at your husband’s perked up expression, anticipating your approach to the couch like an excited puppy after hearing the door slam.
“My lovely girl, welcome home! How was work? Are you hungry? There’s dinner on the stove,” he rattled off in a string of ecstatic exclamations, jumping off of the couch to wrap you in his strong arms.
You softened at his touch, humming in the warmth of his chest as you told him about your day and asked for late dinner.
“That sounds exhausting, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he mused, pulling you to his chest on the couch after guiding you to the plush cushions with a bowl of food in your hands. “We had quite the eventful day here, too,” he started, bright eyed and reeling, “I’m sure it’ll cheer you up!”
“Tell me all about it, Jamie,” you murmured, cuddling into his chest like it was moulded perfectly for your head. “Harry’s written a love letter, a good one,” he began enthusiastically, “for that lovely little Ginny Weasley he’s been so infatuated with recently!”
He practically squealed at the confession, adding pressure to your waist out of unconscious joy. You grinned in surprise, eyebrows reaching for your hairline as you spun around to face James. “Well, he really is his father’s son, hmm?”
James bounced you on his lap in glee, describing the letter that Harry planned to take back to Hogwarts with him. “And then he’ll slip it under her door! Oh, love, it’s perfect!”
You smiled sleepily at his explanation, rolling your head across his chest to stare up at him dreamily. “He deserves a love like ours,” you mused, “I remember that night, I was so enamoured by your beautiful writing…Harry’s got your big heart.”
“And your beautiful brain,” he kissed your forehead, “and your gorgeous eyes,” another kiss, “and your stunning smile,” one kiss more. You giggled at his touch, leaning impossibly closer to him on the couch.
“If all goes as planned, I suppose we should have the Weasleys over for Christmas,” you mumbled with a sleepy smile, closing your eyes and tightening your grip on James’ arms that captured your waist. “Oh! I’ll make dinner! We can have a big party!”
James Potter, the big, strong man with an even bigger heart who just had to make you fall for his hopeless romantics.
includes : gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami ! and spoilers <3
gojo satoru.
. being the young mother of the strongest sorcerer was never going to be easy
. you missed out on a lot of his time because the elders and higher ups were always having him training to be their weapon despite your silent wishes for him to have a normal childhood
. of course you loved him, he was your son, but you couldn't free him from the responsibilities of becoming clan head and such
. whenever you two could be together, it was always somewhat distant which you tried to work through but it was hard
. you knew that in the future, you would wish that you fought harder to be with your little boy
. as satoru grew he slipped away, finding more fun in causing trouble for the elders and rebelling from everything expected of him
. when he left for his first year at jujutsu high it was the last straw and you stopped seeing him completely, you cried that night but found small comfort knowing he would only do so if he had found good friends
. you would send him gifts and letters with no response or return, but at least knew he received them when you'd call up the post office and they let you know that all your packages had been picked up
. you assumed he just wanted freedom from the clan before his closing in responsibility
. the little time you did have with satoru, you spent trying to make up for all the time you had missed out on, always buying sweets his father used to like in preparation for his small visits
. he never ate them around you but you'd always come back to the boxes empty
. after the star plasma vessel mission, he cut ties with you and just like the night he left for school, you cried
. he reached out again after struggling to raise megumi and tsumiki, to which you eagerly accepted his call for help and took on the responsibility of the two kids while satoru was busy
. when suguru defected you spent a good portion of the gojo clan's wealth on any and every sweet your late husband had ever liked, passing down the rest of his habits onto your son, finally
. the next years of your life were spent raising tsumiki and megumi alongside your son, spoiling them with the gojo clans massive wealth
. when satoru was sealed you stayed with shoko who comforted you, having known your son for a long time and probably better than you ever would
. megumi tried to cheer you up but it didn't really work until satoru was freed from the prison realm and you jumped onto him, begging him not to leave you like his father had to
. you watched as both of your boys fought, well, one taken over by the king of curses
. when you saw your little boy split in half on that screen, you walked out of the room and didn't look back, waiting for ui ui to transport satoru's body back so you could say goodbye
. you were opposed to yuta inhabiting satoru's body but let it happen, saying goodbye to shoko and leaving
suguru geto.
. with a son that could see strange creatures was a little weird but as a non sorcerer, you tried your best to understand
. you pampered and smothered suguru as he grew up, making sure that despite the fact you were raising him in a simple village, he had everything he could possibly want
. on your free weekends, you would take him out to the city and use up all your spare money to buy him whatever he wanted because you couldn't resist your boy's little face
. when someone showed up at your door, telling you your son had to go to jujutsu high because he was a very powerful sorcerer, you were devastated but proud of him for growing so fast
. suguru promised to call you every week and you saw him off with teary eyes
. he kept his promise, telling you about the two others in his class and all the missions he was being dispatched on while you worried and filled him in on all the village gossip
. in your second year, he told you about his juniors, two boys that he quite liked, especially the happier of the two
. when he was sent out to help the star plasma vessel you made him promise to call you every day with updates on how he was, especially because of the higher risk of the mission
. after the failure, you started noticing that he was changing
. you noticed he stopped eating and was coming home less and you'd never tell him but sometimes you sobbed at night, begging any higher being for your little boy back
. when he did come home, you didn't comment but always made sure to put more servings on his plate than your own
. once, you let slip that you thought something might be going on in the village, that you could hear distant and caged cries at times but didn't think it meant to much, that it was just your imagination
. after that, he stopped coming home completely
. you begged suguru to come home one day, on the one year anniversary of his father's death, telling him that you missed him
. he came home that night and he held you as you lit the incense for his father, the both of you pretending like you couldn't feel that cold pressure looming over your back
. suguru apologised to you as his curse attacked but you only smiled through your tears, insisting you could never hate your little boy
. in your last breath you only whispered his and your late husband's names, limp hand slipping from his cheek
ryomen sukuna.
. when your son was young, he'd always been labeled as a freak, a monster and an abomination by the people from your village
. as a result, you were ostracised from the people you had once known
. you took him and ran into the woods, living in one of the old buildings from the village your people had left behind in the past, just close enough to buy supplies when needed or during an emergency
. you sustained yourself and your son by growing your own crop and collecting water from the nearby river, as well as sewing your own clothes
. you knew that your son resented you for making him be born like this but you cared for him anyway
. at night when you thought he was asleep, you'd scream up at the sky, asking what you had done to deserve this
. he heard it all and began to pull away, realising he was the reason you had to live in the woods, and for your pain despite the fact you would tuck him in every night and assure him that you would love him no matter what
. in a particular harsh winter when you had burnt all your supplies, you had to venture out into the woods to reach the village and did not return for three days, leaving your son alone in the house
. when you returned the snow storm had ended, you were beat and frostbitten, collapsing just before you reached the door
. he raced out and brought you inside, ignoring the produce you had bought until after he was sure you were okay
. he nursed you back to health as well as he could and demanded you tell him who had made you this weak
. you reluctantly told him who, believing that your boy wouldn't do anything but he left, returning the next day dirtied, marking the beginning of his bloodlust
. your sickness never truly disappeared but he took you with him anyway as he rose through the ranks
. as it progressed, you began to lose hope of ever recovering, begging your boy to just kill you, to end your suffering
. he disagreed with your pleas in the beginning but your whining began to become irritating so he did it quickly for you, ordering uraume to preserve your body
. that day, he gained the name ryomen sukuna
. years into the future when yorozu questioned if sukuna had already known love, the briefly thought back to you and wondered where your body had ended up
toji fushiguro.
. being a woman in the zen'in clan was not easy, especially when your son was everything that your clan hated
. married into the clan at a young age, you were forced to have a child at the end of your teens
. things only got worse when it was revealed that your son had not a pinch of cursed energy despite being a zen'in
. you were separated from those around you, because apparently it was your fault for birthing a boy without any talent, raising your son without the help of even your husband
. when toji was a baby, you spent each day focused on only him, tending to whatever he may need while the maids took care of your tasks and you'd hold him at night, telling your baby boy that you loved him
. as he grew, you were always there, letting your boy know you loved him and would stick with him through thick and thin, loving him all the same despite the pain he had caused you
. you stood by him as he trained and grew, becoming something the clan feared rather than disgusted like he had been as a child, smiling and laughing through his hardships and when he would succeed
. over time, you knew he would want to sever his ties with the zen'in clan and actively encouraged him to do so, wanting your son to distance himself from the evil
. eventually, he grew larger than you and when you would roam the courtyard, toji would loom behind you and scare off all the people who used to ridicule you for birthing a monster and disgrace like him
. you remembered when young naoya approached, you knew he was there to see this toji zen'in, and you smiled down at the little boy, handing him your umbrella in the rain that you had previously been using to cover toji and youself
. in the future, maki would tell you that apparently toji had become naoya's chosen measure of strength and you his measure of what a good wife should be and look like. you told maki you were happy naoya took inspiration from someone good rather than any other zen'in despite how evil you both knew naoya was, twisting your and your son's image
. when toji told you that he had found a woman he loved, you were ecstatic and even more so when he said he would take her name
. you met her and helped her through her pregnancy not long after they married, helping with whatever they should need
. when toji's wife gave birth, you waited outside, not wanting to intrude on their moment and only entered after toji poked his head through the door, grunting at you and telling you to meet the brat
. you skipped past the nurse holding the baby to give to you, sitting by toji's wife and making sure she was okay (you knew what a hard pregnancy felt like after having toji)
. after being reassured she was okay, you moved onto toji, telling him to always do right by his son, that his son was a blessing and to never tell him otherwise, much like you told toji that he was your blessing when he was a child
. toji looked towards his wife, and decided to name him after your very words, megumi
. you held baby megumi after the other two passed out, toji in the chair behind his wife's bed, you told him stories about his father he would never remember to pass the time and to put himself above others because it was the only way to survive this world of jujutsu
. after toji and his wife woke back up, you kissed them both on the cheek goodbye and headed back to the clan, you supposed this was time to pay the debt you owed for letting your son live all those years ago
nanami kento.
. you had always known that your boy was strange, a little robotic if anything but you never minded, always smiling as you kissed his cheek and tucked him in
. when he told you he was seeing monsters, you were a little concerned but brushed it off as something childish, instead being happy about your son embracing the kid side of him
. how wrong could you have been
. as kento grew older you still babied him, much to his displeasure
. you bought him his band tees and paid for the haircuts you found a little too edgy for your liking but insisted they made him look handsome nonetheless
. when a strange sunglasses wearing man showed up at your house, informing you that your son could see curses and had something called a cursed technique used to exorcise them, you were concerned for the man and skeptical but thought back to kento's childhood and supposed it could be somewhat true
. kento told you he wanted to go to this school the man was telling you about, so you reluctantly let him into your house
. after some convincing, you eventually agreed
. when your boy started school, he told you about the only other in his year, yu haibara, who was a little too happy but somehow mixed in well with kento and the others in the year above him
. when haibara passed, you were devastated, having had that boy over to your house many times to the point you referred to him as yu
. when kento confessed to you that he wanted to leave jujutsu society, you said you would support him in every and any life he chose, but you knew that it wouldn't last, that jujutsu sorcery was his true calling, that it was his freedom
. when he told you he wanted to go back to jujutsu, you smiled knowingly, pressing a kiss to his forehead and packing his bags for tokyo
. kento came home after a mission once, accompanied by a younger man who introduced himself as ino takuma, both in need of some light patching up
. you accepted takuma as your second son immediately, adjusting his beanie slash mask so it was straight
. after shibuya, takuma came to your house with another boy, as you lived decently close and they were simply tired
. you welcomed them both in and they told you the news, sitting down in tears as you, takuma and the boy, yuji, held each other and sobbed
. after cleaning yourself up, you left the two on their own, while you prepared dinner for the three of you, kento's old favourite
. while the three of you sat, you told them about the trips you took your little boy on to malaysia whenever you could gather enough money to spare, at some point you called yuji yu and didn't notice, tears flowing again with the little comfort that now your two boys were together again
. after dinner you waved the boys off through your still flowing tears and then went and sat in your son's old room
Hmmm. Okay what if the reader drops the news in isaac that he's going to be a dad
Figure It Out - Isaac Night x Pregnant!Reader
You'd been sitting on the couch for almost an hour, pretending to be reading a book while Isaac worked on something at his desk. The glow of his lamp carved his profile gold: calm, composed, the same way he always looked when the rest of the world didn't matter.
You'd thought about ten different ways how to tell him. None of them felt right. Saying the words felt like standing at the edge of a cliff - you knew the fall wouldn't kill you, but it would change everything.
"Isaac?"
He hummed, eyes still on the paper. "Mm?"
You swallow. "Can you...come here for a second?"
He looks up then, immediately catching something un your tone. The chair creaks as he stands, quiet footsteps padding over until he's kneeling beside the couch, resting a hand on your knee. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," you say quickly, breath shaking. "I just - there's something I need to tell you, and I don't really know how to say it."
Now his brows knit, concern flickering in his eyes - that kind of softness that only ever appears when you're around.
"Hey," he murmurs. "Whatever it is, just say it."
You nod, clutching the little test still half-hidden under your thigh.
You hand it to him wordlessly.
It takes a moment. He looks down, his brain processing the plus sign like it's written in another language. His mouth opens, closes, then he looks up at you - and there's no shock, just silence. The kind of stillness that makes your chest ache.
"You're serious," he says softly. It isn't a question, he already knows.
You nod again, nervous laughter bubbling out of you. "I didn't mean for it to-"
He interrupts you by reaching up, resting his hand on your cheek. His thumb traces your skin once, twice, before he leans forward to kiss your forehead.
"You're shaking," he whispers. "There's no need to be scared."
"I just didn't know how you'd feel."
"I don't-" He exhales, a rare, unsteady sound. "I don't know either. But I know I love you. And we'll figure out the rest."
You huff a tearful laugh, brushing your nose against his. "We'll figure it out?"
