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ruiniel · 3 months ago

Text

This storm

II. Silver lining

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen | Rating:🔞| Geto Suguru x fem!Reader | Count: 2.2K | Summary: This AU was a oneshot at first. More or less out of my control it's now a multichapter, not least because I wanted a Geto POV in here, and I'm a sucker for pining. | On AO3 | Tags & Warnings: my first fic for JJK, fem!reader, Second Person POV, Geto didn’t defect AU, But still has it rough, Set four years after Hidden Inventory, Friends with some benefits, Light angst, Feels, Mutual pining, Geto Suguru POV, Alternate Universe - Canon divergence, Sex pollen-ish eventually

< I

Just friends:

he watches my gauze dress

blowing on the line.

—Alexis Rotella

Morning light shivers across your eyelids, warms your cheek, and consciousness returns from its restful seclusion. The sheets and pillow cozily hug your naked form, as does the arm coiled about your waist and the body curled around yours. Memories from the night emerge, and your eyelashes flutter as you bask in this element of intimacy: his face hidden in your hair, nose touching the nape of your neck; his soft, regular breathing tickling your skin. As far as you can tell, Suguru’s not awake yet, his arm resting heavily around your middle.

But when you try to rise, that arm slowly pulls you back in, accompanied by a low voice, roughened by sleep. “Stay… a little longer…”

You’d be lying if you said this awakens nothing in you, something safe, peaceful, and tender—but neither of you signed up for any of that. “Working early today,” you say through a smile. “Have to get ready, Suguru.”

“Mm… right,” comes a drowsy mumble, and his hold weakens as you slip off the bed.

In the shower, you remember more fragments, aided by the aching muscles in your thighs and the bruises on your hips. You like that side of him, more than you thought you would. The subtle, controlling notes in his voice as he drove you insane, that ‘please’ spoken so eagerly by the end…

You turn the water temperature even lower. That was then, this is now. Wake up. Nothing will change between the two of you, just like it didn’t last time—you’re aware enough to realize that, and you know he feels the same. Or, you think you know. Right, no use dwelling on that.

When you enter the living room and kitchenette area, Suguru’s there too, standing with his back to you, handling the glass water boiler. He’s pulled on his dark house pants and a gray t-shirt, his loose black hair draping over his shoulders.

“Hey,” you yawn, dressed and ready, sitting at the table with your bag and trying not to groan at the slight muscular ache felt with each movement. He didn’t spare you at all, damn it.

But what are you going to do? Complain about giving you what you asked for? ‘Harder’, huh? The thought makes you smile and roll your eyes at yourself.

“Tea or coffee?” Suguru asks, looking over his shoulder at you. “... what’s the smile for?” He’s visibly relaxed, unburdened by the restlessness of the evening.

“Oh, umm… nothing. Tea please… hibiscus! If there’s any left.”

“As long as I’m around, there will always be stock of that,” he turns back around.

The lightness of his tone feels good, the choice of words less so. You choose not to ponder too much on it, though, instead rummaging inside your bag to ensure you have everything for work. “Heh, forgot you love the stuff.”

Suguru comes over and takes a seat opposite you at the table, pushing a cup of crimson tea within your reach.

“Thank you,” you say without looking his way, fiddling and arranging this and that object inside your workbag.

Feeling watched, you pause and raise your eyes. Sun rays filter through the open blinds, softening his features with a warm glow. He’s propped leisurely against the backrest of the chair, cup of tea in hand. You find yourselves in the same position at the table as the night before, though the mood is wildly different.

“... what?” You like the geniality of his stare, an infrequent sight lately.

Suguru shakes his head, then drinks from his tea and leans forward, setting the cup aside. “We’re fine, aren’t we?”

Oh, is that what this is about? “Of course we are. I am. You…?”

A faint smile. “Never better.”

You raise an eyebrow. “... then why ask?”

“Just… checking,” his gaze drifts towards the balcony, the smile still pulling at his lips.

Suguru, ever the thoughtful one. You think this fondly, though with half a mind to make a joke about what he’s done to certain parts of your body. You’re not sure how he’d take that, though, so… better not. You’ve known each other for years, sure, but this was only the second time you’ve had sex, after all.

Distance means safety.

But ever since you’ve started benefiting from each other this way, as much as you’d like to not think about it… there is a subtle, barely discernible change in that liminal space that separates you and him. You realize you’d been lost in thought as the door to the balcony closes, and you turn briefly to see Suguru outside, lighting a cigarette.

Suguru watches you rise and continue to prepare, arranging your shirt and going back to your bedroom—likely having forgotten something. He follows your silhouette with his eyes, taking a long drag of smoke into his lungs and holding it. On an exhale, his hand grasps the rail, eyes closing.

Not for the first time he wonders what the hell he’s doing, and why. Last night, when he came home, he wasn’t tired; he was angry. Some curses he subdues do cause states he has to purge somehow afterward to regain his balance, but this was not one of them.

No, he was at the end of his tether, again. Nothing, nothing has ever been the same since his failure four years ago and he’s tried so, so hard and for so long. He tried to accept the consequences, to keep to his principles after Riko, even after finding Mimiko and Nanako. He often returns to that evening in the village, to that sight that made his heart drop to his feet, wondering how it could’ve been different. He’d done the right thing, he’d called Jujutsu officials that very moment to take the girls away but…

He clenches his fist, turning briefly to the streets, where endless streams of people rush about. Is this all for them? Fear makes monsters of people. Fear of the unknown, of things they envy or can’t understand.

He’d been alone for most of the time since those days, year after year. But he understands—like him, both Shoko and Satoru have their hands full with the ever-rising tide of curses, and sometimes the sinuous side of dealing with Jujutsu Tech politics. He doesn't envy Satoru at all in that respect.

Suguru raises his head, staring at a clear blue sky. It all used to be different, but then... change is the only constant. He does miss those moments with his old friends, sometimes painfully so. A sunny spring. Satoru. A chance missed. But then he forgot about all that when a girl's blood splattered his tunic. Sometimes, he still hears the gunshot and the clapping, intermingling in a mocking symphony. In his dreams she dies over and over again; and they all smile wider and applaud, hovering over her lifeless body.

He grits his teeth, shakes his head as though to free himself of his own mind. Is this all for… them…

Suguru takes another drag of his cigarette. Yes, he’d been angry last night, his mind fogged with the taste and slime of negative emotions being absorbed by his cells and his spirit. And then he saw your face, and your worried glance depleted him of that helpless, overwhelming fury. Someone who cares, who knows nothing of his failures. You thought he was exhausted, and he let you. He took what you were willing to give, let himself be cleansed by your nearness, the scent of your skin and the heat of your body. Even now his heart beats faster remembering the way you cried his name.

If only he could freely express the relief he felt and tell you all that lies beyond it, but a part of him is ashamed; you hold him in so high esteem, you’ve let him so close, trusting him with so much, most of all your friendship. Suguru chews on his lip. Luckily for him, it appears you didn’t actually hear what he said to you at the end. That might’ve uselessly complicated everything.

He sighs.

“I’m off, then.”

Your voice has him looking up. You’re standing there, on the balcony threshold.

“Who are you working with today?” he asks.

You snap your fingers. “Haibara-san.”

“I see. That’s good.” He’s dependable enough. “Be careful.”

You roll your eyes, nodding. “Am I not always? And right back at you, all right? See you today maybe—in one piece, hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Suguru snorts. “Hey, wait!” he calls after you, remembering. “Are you heading to the campus at all today?”

“I am. Setting out from there, why?”

He follows you inside, returning with two small satchels. “I might not make it. So, will you please stop by the dorm, and hand these over to Mimiko-chan and Nanako-chan for me? Small gifts from my trip to Nagoya.”

Your eyes smile. “Of course! Suguru, you…”

He tilts his head, expectant.

You stare at him for a moment longer. “Those girls care for you deeply.”

“As I do for them.”

“You’re really something else.”

Oh, if only you knew. But his eyes turn to crescents as he smiles that benign, cheerful smile.

“Well…” you stuff the satchels inside your bag. “See you later!”

“Yes... later.”

Each day either of you leaves for a mission, there’s no certainty of tomorrow. He’s never pulled you in, to urge you to be prudent in other ways, to show you his worry and embrace you like he wants to lately, outside the bounds of mutual convenience.

Hah… coward.

“Haibara-san… Haibara-san! Can you hear me?”

The signal is never the best due to interference caused by the veil but it’s never failed like this before. Someone answers the phone. All you hear is static.

Damn it.

You stare anxiously at the dark barrier you’d lowered more than an hour ago over a funeral hall in Setagaya. Just the place for curses to gain momentum, you think. The brief said ‘semi-grade 1 cursed spirit’. Haibara dealt with those before over the past year, but you have little information to go on when it comes to this one’s abilities.

After several moments of hesitation, you reach a decision. Losing contact with the assigned mission lead usually warrants a call for backup, but you’ve been out with Haibara before. There is a level of trust and collaboration between you and despite being an auxiliary manager, you have enough cursed energy to support him if need be. Sometimes you wonder if you should’ve tried harder, aimed for graduating as a sorcerer yourself. Well, bygones. You also know just the person who’d be none too happy about that—which shouldn’t matter to you, not as much as it does, anyway. “You keep harping on about the dangers of being a sorcerer, Suguru, but what am I to do?” you mutter. It certainly would have helped now, you think, crossing through the veil.

The building is silent. “Haibara-san!” you call, your weapon at the ready—a tessen, a special grade cursed tool obtained via Satoru from his family stash. Suguru insisted, vehemently, that you accept it as a gift ever since you began heading out alone. It pulses in your hand, the cursed technique vibrating through your nerves.

Cold sweat drips down your spine at the unnerving silence: you could never completely shed the fear from your body in high-strung conditions. Principal Yaga once said that’s healthy, a sign that you’re prepared to fight.

Roof shingles are falling everywhere. You jump back, waving the tessen just in time to repel the debris and violet-tinted fumes bursting through the caved-in structure.

You see the apparition, just barely, before a bright slash culls the creeping tendrils, turning them to dust.

Haibara.

“Are you hurt?!”

“The tessen, use it now!” He yells back, both hands clamped together in a seal.

Right. You snap the fan open, its metal ribs singing in your grip. You wave it in a pattern, focusing the aim of the cursed energy blow towards the apparition, through sheer luck timing it with the sorcerer’s strike.

The curse withers to a strangled mess before you both, and you’re trapped there, watching as bruised fumes slither towards you—it’s not long before you’re gagging, eyes watery and lungs burning. You’re being dragged away by someone.

“Thank you… that was close… so-so close…” Haibara murmurs. “Thank you… we did it. Are you fine? I’m sorry, it was a stubborn one…”

“I’m fine.” You feel as though you've bathed in a pool of warm sake and drunk just as much while still coughing your lungs out. “Well...a little out of sorts... ”

You reach the car outside the dispersing veil, both leaning against its metal body and sighing in relief.

Haibara glances at you. You glance back. All things considered, he appears unhurt, maybe a bit ruffled.

“You don’t look so good,” he says.

Huh. “How do you mean?”

Haibara squints, then rubs at this right eye and observes you closer. “Your pupils look… strange. Maybe you should visit Ieiri-san for a check-up, just to make sure?”

Your hearing is shot. Your vision is tinged with violet at the edges, and your legs feel weak at the joints. A peculiar taste is in your mouth. “... yeah. Yeah, that might be a good idea.”

“Come on,” he urges. “I’ll write up the mission report this time.”

The weather is far from hot. You pull at the collar of your shirt. You’ve struck a fever, or so it feels. “... t-thank you.”

tessen - Japanese war fan used as a weapon or for signalling

III >

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #jjk #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x reader #ruiniel:fanfiction #fem reader

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