#Double Kidnapping | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magickhajiit · 2 years ago

Text

Unwilling ally

Masterlist

The people who took them, plucked them one by one from their mission observing a Hydra cell in Alaska, may have been great kidnappers but they needed a little help on what to do with their victims once the deed had been done. Scott had been left on a gurney, a power dampener clamped around his wrist, in a damp room with a flickering light, sharp tools laid out beside him. Both his arms are strapped to the bed with thick ropes, the mission must not have been important enough to splash out on real handcuffs. Wiggling out of them is easy, and when he grabs his glasses, tucking them into his pocket and moves to the door he spares a moment to smile when it swings open, unlocked and without any alarms.

Bullets ricocheting down the corridor quickly stamp out any joy he has. Taking off down the corridor he has a few seconds to take in the sight of unfamiliar mutants and men fighting before he’s tackled to the ground, an inhuman noise ripping from his throat as pain erupts down his back. The clogging stench of wet dog assaulting him fills in the missing pieces of the situation.

Magneto’s new ‘brotherhood of evil mutants’ had been taking the headlines recently. Tales of their crimes reaching the press every other day. Whichever anti-mutant group had snagged Scott and the X-men had also caught the ire of the Master of Magnetism clearly. Bad for them, bad for Scott too. Though the X-men and Brotherhood hadn’t fought yet, his team had gone against Magneto dozens of times before.

---------------------

Which is why he’s surprised when the mutant atop of him, probably Sabretooth from the smell of dog breath, is yanked off him violently. Struggling till he’s able to prod at the scratches running down his back, he’s greeted with red when he pulls his hand back. The crimson of his blood surging out and now trailing down his wrist. Then the amber of Jean’s hair as, out of the corner of his eye, he sees her lifted like a ragdoll and thrown, Exodus hovering before her. The red of Magneto’s costume as he returns to the ground, making his way toward Scott. He let his eyes slip closed as the mutant gets closer, Exodus trailing behind. Faintly he can hear the order to get him into the jet, right before Exodus prods at his mind and darkness takes over.

When he wakes again he’s in a bed, soft blankets wrapped around him. Weariness has engulfed him, the type of exhaustion that comes from being held unconscious by a telepath rather than from the drugs slowly being pumped into his system. A woman’s hand gently stroking his face makes him force his eyes open. It’s Jean, perched on a chair by his bedside, green eyes crinkled with worry, red hair tangled, tendrils of it escaping.

It’s Jean until it’s not Jean. Scott watches as yellow is injected into green eyes, the colours swirling together until only gold remains. He watches her red hair darkening till it’s the shade of falling leaves in August, her opulent skin turning blue. Mystique.

Before he can yell, or reason his way out of this situation, whatever this situation is, he feels a psychic touch knock on the front door of his mind, letting itself in when he doesn’t answer. Before the red-skinned mutant slips into his view, Scott knows it's Exodus breaking down his mental barriers, tearing down walls and rooms as soon as he can construct them. In the back of his mind, he wonders why Magneto feels the need to keep cannon fodder like Toad around when he has soldiers like Exodus, mutants surely able to bring countries down to their knees with a bit of strategic planning.

‘That is what we need you for.’

The words don’t make sense to him at that moment, and when he’s dragged back to the waters of unconsciousness with a firm nudge of the telepath’s power it fades from memory. When he wakes up the next day, still in the med room but thankfully without company, the remnants of another memory linger, an alabaster face and cold red eyes greeting him when he closes his eyes. His throat feels dry and raw like he’d been screaming. A headache brews in his mind, he has the feeling his mind has been pilfered every memory having been plucked out before being shoved haphazardly back into its specific box.

There are two metal hoops around his wrists now, below the puncture marks where the inhibitor was clamped on. They’re tight enough not to be removed but loose enough not to be restrictive. Realistically he knows there’s little chance of escaping the Master of Magnitism’s base with a strip of steel on your person, not that that knowledge stops him from trying.

Surprisingly Magneto is the one to find him, Scott would have thought the man had something better to do than chase prisoners across his creepy metal base. Diving around the corner and stumbling straight into the man’s chest wasn’t what Scott had been expecting to happen. Magneto has lifted his hand, by the time Scott manages to spin around, one gesture clamping the metal bracelets together and raising them in the air, leaving Scott connected to the ground by the tips of his toes.

‘’Did you really think you were going to escape?’’ Magneto carries on with his tirade when Scott doesn’t bother to answer the question. ‘’We are currently miles from the nearest town. And if by some miracle you managed to get there, alone, without food or adequate clothing, it’s not a let’s say very progressive place in terms of mutant rights.’’ Another gesture and the cuffs are lowered to the ground, as they walk Magneto grips the back of Scott’s neck like he’s an unruly kitten rather than a mutant prisoner.

‘’I don’t look like a mutant right now.’’

‘’You were injected with a high dosage of a new mutant power dampener. Our best doctor believes you’ll have your optic beams back in a couple of days.’' After a multitude of lefts and rights, they arrive back at the med bay, the metal door swinging open for them.

‘’I need my glasses back. My powers... I can’t control them.’’

Without being asked Scott sits back on the bed, reluctantly raising his arm as the Magneto manipulates the needle back in. He wouldn’t admit it but the scratches on his back had started to prickle with pain, a burning sensation on his back.

‘’I’ll make sure you have them Cyclops. And don’t fret you will be home soon enough.’’ Settling down Scott just nods, suddenly too tired to form words.

------------------

Magneto wasn’t lying as it turned out. The next time he wakes it's due to the loud humming of a jet’s engines. Opening his eyes, the world is bathed in a familiar crimson, the weight of the glasses on his nose is a comfort. He’s sat on the floor, back resting against one of the chairs, hands pinned to the floor in front of him. The crick in his neck lets him know they’ve been flying for a few hours. Sabretooth is stood guarding him, amber eyes lazily watching him. He’s facing the wrong way but faintly Scott thinks he can hear Mystique and Magneto conversing in the cockpit.

A couple of hours later, long enough his wrists have gone numb and his limbs are begging to be stretched, the jet lands. He quickly rises to his feet when the cuffs linking him to the ground flow away, Magneto’s hand steadies him when his body jolts forward. Wrapping one arm around him Magneto walks him down the ramp, he sighs in relief when he sees the school. Jean’s at the front door, donning a cream dress rather than her latex suit, her mouth agape.

‘’You’ve served the cause well, child.’’ Scott flinches from the older mutant when he hears those words, making him sound like a loyal soldier rather than an unwilling prisoner. Without warning Magneto increases the pressure on his shoulder, encouraging him to his knees, on the soft, damp grass. The hand is gone quickly, the sound of a rustling cape marking his departure.

By the time Jean has made her way to him, the Brotherhood’s jet is in the air. The smell of coconuts fills his nose when she engulfs him in a hug, red hair in his face. It’s a welcome relief after the week of the wet dog odour of his guard and the stale, air of the medbay. Through Jean’s cries, he can feel a different mind touching his, with more care and delicacy than Exodus had shown. It stifles the pinpricks of pain lighting up now the pain meds were wearing off before it skims through his recent memories, opening them up with the care reserved for opening open a family scrapbook, taking time to look over each picture.

When he’s done Xavier opens the link a little wider, letting his care and worry bleed through the link. Burying his face into Jean’s shoulder Scott feels his eyes prickle, the relief to be home finally overwhelming him.

This was meant to be one of those 30 minute writing activities, ended up being an hour and a half and I'm not a big fan of most of it. But I thought I'd post it anyway. I've been a bit obssessed with brother of evil mutants fanfics recently. If anyone knows of or has written any I'd love to give them a read.

#my writing #x-men #marvel fanfiction #exodus #magneto #cyclops fanfiction #cyclops #jean grey x scott summers #brotherhood of evil mutants #kidnapping #double kidnapping #brother of evil mutants fanfic #scott summers fanfic #scott summers #x men fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

wisecura · 2 months ago

Text

Nanny

SatoSugu x f!reader (if I’m being honest I didn’t realize—) Wc: 8.7k, and then

summary: Isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen, you sell yourself to the Gojo Clan in an attempt to change your favorite characters fates. You change many things, and are able to see the boys grow peacefully, yet now with them out of the clan house you find yourself in a predicament. Your arranged marriage.

AN: I will be going back through and editing this so pleaseeeee be aware and patient (not that you aren’t already 😉)

Warning: yandere, manipulation, gaslighting

What direction should I take this?

It had been a restless evening, the emptiness of your house only adding to the unease. With your husband away on another mission, worry consumed you, and you found yourself checking your phone obsessively. He’d been getting back to back missions recently, the next tougher than the previous. When a message from *Satoru* flashed on your screen, you sighed, knowing him well enough to brace yourself. He’d been texting constantly, asking how you were, each question playful yet persistent. But tonight was different.

> “Hey, open up! I brought some company. 😉”

Before you could even think of a reply, there was a knock on the door, quick and insistent. Your heart skipped—you knew Satoru well enough to know he didn't need to wait for an answer. In typical fashion, he’d decided to make an appearance without a second thought. And, of course, Suguru would be there as well, always close behind. Always following Satoru’s impulsive ideas with a tact and restraint that balanced his friend’s recklessness. It’s always been this way. It had been over a year since you’d seen either of them in person, so maybe you should have expected this—an unannounced visit, catching you completely off guard.

Opening the door, you found Satoru and Suguru standing there, too comfortable, as if they’d belonged in your entryway. Satoru’s grin was wide, a touch smug, his sunglasses pushed up on his head so his bright blue eyes could bore directly into yours. Beside him, Suguru wore a slight, closed-eye smile that softened his expression but did little to ease the quiet intensity in his gaze. Satoru looked amused, mischievous, and undeniably pleased to see you, while Suguru’s calm, patient stare held you in place, as if daring you to turn them away. Before you could say another word, Satoru invited himself in, pushing past you.

“Well, look who’s finally decided to grace us with her presence,” Satoru’s voice rang out, laced with that playful edge, as he swept past you, already making himself at home in your living room. “A whole year, and you’re acting like we’re strangers. Not very welcoming, Mrs. Kamo.” His voice dropping in tonnage at the mention of your new surname.

A shiver ran down your spine at the way he dragged it out, each syllable laced with a mocking drawl. You still weren’t used to hearing it. The new name felt foreign, like a title you hadn’t quite claimed. Suguru, still lingering by the doorway, let his gaze meet yours, that faint smile on his lips—one that seemed strained at the edges, as though he was just as unsettled as you were. There was something in his look that was patient yet pointed, as if he, too, was piecing together the reality before him.

Satoru set a bag of snacks on the coffee table, his eyes sweeping over the clean yet modest room, taking in every detail with a slight arch of his brow, as if comparing it to the grandeur of the Gojo clan estate. The heat crept up your cheeks under the weight of his silent judgment, and you felt a prickle of self-consciousness under their scrutiny. You finally made your way fully into the living room. Suguru followed a step behind you, his gaze tracing the details of the room and lingering over subtle hints of your husband’s presence: a jacket draped over the arm of a chair, a pair of shoes neatly set by the door. No pictures though. You could feel their silent appraisal, the faint tension crackling between the three of you.

The reality was sinking in for them now. They had heard, of course, only a week after you’d married—a brief, cold announcement that their former nanny, their constant presence, was now married to some grade 2 sorcerer from the Kamo clan. The shock had been palpable, but they hadn’t received so much as a word from you about the whole thing. Not a single explanation. It was as if you’d vanished, leaving only a name and title they barely recognized. Your text messages after the news, became short and distant -- less casual, evading any mention of your husband or your new life. Your schedule suddenly filled, enough to displace your meet ups. Satoru and Suguru had been busy after that. Very busy.

Suguru’s typical restraint seemed to slip, his normally calm demeanor laced with the same faint bitterness as Satoru’s. He was calm, but his words carried a bite, a hint of something you hadn’t expected from him. “You know, Satoru,” he began, his voice soft-purring almost, yet laced with mirth, his eyes sweeping over your modest home, “it’s not really her fault. She’s newly wed, after all.” His voice carried a strain, colder than you were used to, his tone dipping into a mocking edge. “Honeymoon phase 'n all.”

You felt the sting of his words and braced yourself for the inevitable teasing, knowing they had likely heard about your marriage from someone other than yourself. They were bound to find out, and deep down, you knew you had this conversation coming.

Still, you’d convinced yourself it wouldn’t be as big a deal. They had moved out of the clan house, each finding their own paths. Satoru, ever the rebel, had shirked his responsibilities as clan heir, showing his familiar disregard for tradition and hierarchy. He’d never been one to follow the rules, and you had thought—maybe naively—that this wouldn’t matter so much.

His focus honed in on the two children he'd taken in-Megumi and Tsumiki. Suguru, through your insistence maintained his missions to life balance, having also taken in the two girls he met in that village-Nanako and Mimiko. Something you'd advised him on before things had gotten out of control, like in the original story. Your small interferences in this world that allowed for more peace.

Adjusting to life-in this new world had been jarring at first; you hadn’t expected a second life, especially not after your first ended so soon. You’d read the Jujutsu Kaisen manga, even watched the show. So the cold, isolated world of their childhoods was something you were painfully familiar with. Satoru, at least, had the prestige of his clan, while Suguru’s circumstances were far worse than you’d realized. Using your cursed energy-your life-as leverage, you struck a deal with the Gojo clan-securing a place as Satoru's caretaker. Weighing your life on the line, and your compliance with any request the current clan head deemed necessary. And with this promise you were allowed to bring in Suguru. Suguru, once you found him, required little convincing, his situation had been far more unfavorable than you'd of guessed. Despite being only a few years older, you’d practically raised the two boys. Together. The way you thought it should've been. And when they made it through high school still loyal to one another, you felt a deep satisfaction-pride, hopeful for the future you’d managed to shape.

Now, standing in your small home with them after such a long separation, a tentative smile found its way to your lips. The tension, palpable. You tried to ease into the conversation, letting warmth slip into your voice as you went to shut the door. “It’s so good to see you two,” you said, hoping to mask your own discomfort. “I wasn’t expecting you to just… show up…” you hastily corrected yourself, “but you’re always welcome here. I’ve just been busy—”“Busy ignoring us, yeah?” Satoru cut in, eyes still roaming your living room, sounding like he was putting a great effort into maintaining his playful yet bored persona.

The underlying bitterness was still there. He threw himself onto the couch with an unamused scoff. He patted the cushion beside him—a silent command for you to sit—his gaze steady, almost expectant. But you stayed where you were, studying him with a cautious eye. Satoru could be bratty, sure. He’d thrown tantrums before, though they never went beyond pouting and whining, which usually resolved with him clinging to yours side or Suguru’s until his mood lifted. Even as he grew older, that side of him never faded. Clinging was just something he did, a comfort you’d grown accustomed to.

But this time, he seemed more wound up, his tone just a little more cold that you'd like. Not that you were scared he'd hurt you, but you knew you didn't know where this conversation would lead. the unexpected, yeah?

When you didn’t take the offered seat, he rolled his eyes, and his tone sharpened as he continued, “You didn’t even tell us about the wedding. What was up with that, huh? Did they threaten you or something?” His question caught you off guard, a bluntness you weren’t prepared for beneath his casual delivery. Across the room, Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze calculating-watching the conversation unfold- ready to step in if needed. His posture was relaxed-with great effort. The silence stretched, his presence somehow heavier than Satoru’s, until finally, when he felt you wouldn't answer, he spoke.

“Satoru’s right.” His voice was smooth, calm, but the bite never left his words. “You never even told us about…” He paused, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to search for the right term. “Him. And now here you’re married and… preoccupied.” His words felt deliberately chosen, disapproving.

You hesitated, feeling their unwavering gazes pressing down on you, making it difficult to find the right words. You had to explain yourself. You knew you did. These two boys, whom you raised and grew up with. Who you protected and cared for. At least you could try to explain yourself, without you giving away the deal you struck with the current Gojo Clan Head. The man that took you in that day. The promises you made.

“It wasn’t personal,” you sighed, feeling your voice waver. No. You couldn't falter now. Yet, the explanation felt hollow even as you spoke. “And no, I wasn’t threatened,” you added, a small, half-hearted attempt at a joke that fell flat. “I just… I thought the higher-ups would have informed you. It wasn’t meant to be a secret.” Distance. You've always been reminded to keep your distance from the two. You look away somewhat guilty, knowing how bland your answer was. It really hadn't been personal. You just knew how busy they were. And with the pressure from the higher ups to move forward...quickly… and the reminder from your Clan Head of your duty. Your role in this society.

Satoru snorted, crossing one leg over the other, his arm stretching across the back of the couch in a way that took up far more space than necessary.

“Yeah, because I love getting news about you from the higher-ups.” His eyes glinted with a rebellious spark, a hint of challenge in his voice. “But you couldn’t tell us yourself? Not a single heads-up? Didn’t think to mention it in any of those text messages? C’mon, you’re better than that, aren’t you?”

Suguru’s gaze softened as he took in your discomfort, his voice slipping into a low, coaxing tone. He knew what Satoru was doing-but he at least needed to soften you up a bit. Satoru was never one for social cues. “We were only a little surprised, you know,” he murmured, confirming Satoru's words, gently. “We thought you trusted us. At least enough to tell us.” His words lingered in the air for a moment. His thoughts turned to a slightly darker place, once again feeling a little peeved that you hadn't even whispered a word about this to them before. His expression grew colder-not really able to stop it, more guarded as he seemed to think his next words over. “But it seems like your marriage took priority. Did you think we wouldn’t care? That we wouldn't have anything to say about this?”

You knew what he meant. With how close you were when growing up, not even hearing it from you directly would come as a shock. And with how busy you've been lately….and with your husband's requests. “I’m sorry if I made you feel…” you trailed off, hands wringing together as you searched for the right words. “But it’s not as if I chose him… you know that. The higher-ups arranged it. It all happened so fast, and Itaru doesn’t really like me talking—”

“Ugh, don’t even say that name,” Satoru cut you off quickly, his face scrunching up with barely concealed disdain. His words felt like a slap across the face, and he looked at you as if the very mention of your husband was somehow a personal attack. Surprise was an understatement. You had no idea where the hostility for your husband was coming from. For you? Sure. Before you could dwell on it—Suguru’s hand found your shoulder, a steady touch, though his gaze held an edge that mirrored Satoru’s irritation.

“We’re not interested in hearing his excuses. We’re here for you,” he said softly, as though he was talking to a child. Scolding. “And if he’s already setting boundaries on who you can talk to… well, that’s a problem, no? Especially if he's keeping you from us.”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed at your lack of response, a faint smirk forming, though it was devoid of humor. “Let me guess,” an uncharacteristic sneer plastered on his handsome face, “He’s got all these ‘concerns’ about you staying close with us. Convenient, isn’t it? Distancing you from the people who’ve actually looked out for you. Manipulating you into thinking he knows what’s best. What a sly little rat.” You hesitated, words failing to form as Satoru’s words sunk in-almost wanting to defend the man you agreed to marry. The truth was complicated, far more delicate than he was making it sound. Itaru had only requested a little distance from other men, something he’d framed as temporary. He hadn’t forced anything, just… gently insisted. And even when you’d explained to him that Satoru and Suguru were like family—brothers, practically—it hadn’t made much difference. He’d merely restated that it was just for a little while, an adjustment to settle into this new life. Especially while he was being assigned to an ungodly amount of missions recently. He didn't trust that the men around you wouldn't notice a lonely housewife when they saw one. Not that-that-was on your mind, anyway.

But how could you phrase that now, standing before them?

Suguru’s gaze remained soft, condescending. “So… that’s what he’s asking of you? That you keep away from us? All those months…” His tone even but cold. “Is that really what you want?” “N-no that's not how it is-,” you tried. Satoru crossed his arms, leaning back, challenging you to explain. “Why’s he so worried, huh? Because he doesn’t trust you?” His voice dipped, mocking. “Or maybe he doesn’t trust us, because he knows he doesn’t measure up. He’s worried he can’t compete with what’s already here.” His arrogance, back in full swing. Even with the years spent "counseling" him, you still couldn't knock that bad habit of his.

You felt like they were twisting your words around, or maybe you just weren't explaining things properly.

But you had your doubts about following through with this too. You knew Itaru’s intentions weren’t necessarily mean, that he was just cautious, wanting to ease into things his own way. But now, under their scrutiny, your reasoning seemed thin, flimsy, as if you were the one desperately grasping for excuses. It didn't help that you felt guilty for not mentioning it before. Your marriage, the move, the reasoning behind your distance, you always opting out of the limited meets ups they scheduled with you. But standing here, with Satoru’s sharp gaze cutting through your feeble defenses and Suguru’s quiet intensity drawing out every buried doubt, you wondered if you’d been deluding yourself this entire time. You'd grown so close with them over the years. They could read all your tells.

“I didn’t mean to push you two away,” you murmured, unsure of where this was going-what they wanted you to say here, looking away from their intense gazes. “I just… thought you’d be busy with missions, training—”Satoru laughed, shaking his head as if the half formed excuse was already ridiculous. “Missions? Training?” he echoed, his tone layered with disbelief.

“You really think we’re that busy? You think we’d just… forget about you?” He held your gaze, “Come on, sweetheart. You should know us better than that.” He glanced at Suguru, exchanging a wordless, intense look, sharing a silent conversation between themselves. Just as they always seemed to do. Suguru’s hand that had rested on your shoulder had drifted to your arm, his fingers brushing against your skin, lingering with an intent that was impossible to ignore. He leaned in a little closer, “We missed you,” he admitted softly-almost a whisper, though the subtle edge in his voice told you he wasn’t wholly satisfied with the answer you’d given. The gesture giving you whiplash from the previous tone of the conversation. “It’s been… strange without you around. Lonely.” The word slipped from him like a secret, his voice carrying a vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

You swallowed, the ache in your heart threatening to burrow further. The distance you’d thought would be manageable had weighed on them more than you’d realized, and the hint of desperation in both their words had stung, enunciating the fact that your absence hadn’t gone unnoticed as you’d hoped.

“I didn’t know it would… be like this,” you whispered, feeling the confession tumble out before you could stop yourself. Satoru stood up now, stepping into your space with an unsettling confidence. He leaned in close, so close you could see every fleck of color in his brilliant blue eyes. He seemed taller than you remembered—or maybe it had simply been that long since you’d last seen them. “You really thought you could just get married and… disappear?” You knew a threat when you'd heard one, and his tone of voice left now room for second guessing. You couldn't help the shiver that ran up your spine, reminding yourself that this was the same boy you’d once held close after a nightmare, his tear streaked face buried in your comforter. “You don’t just get to leave us like that. You can’t just drop out of our lives. We’re still here, aren’t we?”

You opened your mouth to somehow explain that things had changed now that you were married, but Suguru stopped you in your tracks, his hand brushing lightly over your collarbone, a touch that lingered just a bit too long, sending your heart racing. The meaning behind his actions-not entirely clear, yet there was an undeniable...intimacy to it, one that left you feeling strangely off-balance. Far too close for comfort. “We’re only here because we care,” he murmured, his voice soothing but insistent. “You don’t need to keep things from us.” He stood like a voice of reason. Like the good cop in this interaction, alleviating the harsh words Satoru spewed at you. Yes. Suguru could navigate most social situations. He knew just what to say and how to say it, even if Satoru didn't. They were tag teaming. Convincing you that this had not been a wise choice. Their tones punishing, yet soft enough to prevent you from closing off completely-

Their gazes met again, and the two shared a silent exchange, a flicker of understanding passing between them before Satoru’s smirk grew wider. Finally, stepping back and standing up straight, he gave you a sliver of space. Some breathing room, though his gaze remained fixed, unnervingly smug. His stare heavy, looking down at you. His voice dripped with mock sweetness. “So, tell us—how’s married life treating you?” he asked. “We’re absolutely dying to hear all about it.”

Whiplash. What the hell. You can't say you're completely surprised. The two had always been a troublesome pair. Perfect together, yes. But troublesome.��Always keeping you busy. And always knowing how to get what they wanted. What did they want from you? Another apology? You begging? You hesitated, feeling a sense of vulnerability in the change in questioning. “It’s… fine,” you managed, your voice barely steady. “He’s… a good man,” you added, though the slight tremor in your voice didn’t escape their notice. You firmed yourself in your position, nodding along with yourself. They hadn't expected you to say something like that. Maybe some complaining? Maybe a request for them to take you home? But you seemed relaxed. You didn't seem to mind sharing your home with a stranger. With your husband.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of dissatisfaction playing across his face as he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest, contemplative but unyielding. “A good man, huh?” tilting his head with an almost lazy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Funny, where is he now? Always leaving his new, little wife all alone?” His tone was sharp, but his actions feigning nonchalance, yet he was daring you to argue. To defend him. “Seems… pretty absent to me,” he added airily. Bored.

He couldn't be serious. Sure he might be upset with you for keeping your marriage a secret, but you weren't stupid enough not to see the open hostility he seemed to have for your husband. It still felt somewhat unwarranted. The way your husband was acting wasn't abnormal for a husband…right? The missions were part of his duty; you knew that much, even if it meant barely getting the chance to know him, your husband constantly whisked away before he could even settle back into life at home. Your relationship was shallow, even at face value. But he was still a person

Still, the thought crept in—how odd it was, this never-ending string of assignments. And how Satoru seemed to know about your husband's absence in the home. Especially when you refrained from talking about him in the first place. You look at Suguru, knowing he was the more level headed one of the two, hoping for some kind of control on Satoru's mouth. Suguru, however, seemed to have no intention of letting this slide.

Suguru’s hand tightened gently on your shoulder, his gaze softening but his voice steady, insistent. “You deserve someone who’s there for you,” his voice was as smooth as ever, his eyes meeting yours. “Someone who would put you above any mission, any duty.” His words struck a nerve, surprising you. Surely, The Suguru Geto wasn't belittling your husband for simply fulfilling his role as a shaman? But really, how would they even know about his increased assignments?

The words hung heavily between you, the weight of their shared focus making it hard to look away. They were both so close, their combined presence overwhelming, making you feel a strange mixture of familiarity and unease. The way they spoke, the way they watched you—as though they were challenging you to deny their support, to pretend you didn’t need them, to tell them to leave. You could almost feel the certainty radiating from them, that subtle insistence that seemed to imply they were the only ones who truly understood, the ones who’d be there, regardless of what anyone else thought. It was a weird sensation.

And maybe they were right. But this wasn’t exactly fair to your husband, was it?

You took a steadying breath, trying to ease the tension rising between you and the two of them. “It’s not fair to judge him like this,” you said, forcing a small smile. “He’s just doing what he’s been asked to do. It’s not like he’s choosing to be away.” You reminded yourself of your duty—the terms you had agreed to when you joined the Gojo clan. This marriage had been requested to strengthen ties with the Kamo clan, to bring about peace-and maybe for them to provide a few other benefits for your clan. And really, the man you married was mild-tempered at worst, a good match in every way. He wasn’t a bad man.

Your words seemed to hang, suspended in the charged silence. Satoru’s expression had shifted from mockery to something darker, his playful edge dulled by the hard gleam in his blue eyes. He studied you, jaw tense, his usual teasing still nowhere to be found. You almost felt scared.

“You’re defending him?” he asked, a boarding on mixture of disbelief and chill, a hint of jealousy just barely concealed. His gaze sharpened, almost accusatory, as if the very thought of standing up for your husband was the worst thing you could have done in that moment. “Tell me…you don’t actually… love him, do you?” The words lay in the air for a moment. Your pulse quickened as you struggled to respond. The intensity of his stare felt almost predatory, something raw and unsettled lurking just beneath the surface. You instinctively backed away, only to find yourself against Suguru, who steadied you, moving his other hand to rest snug on your waist.

Satoru’s bluntness had you reeling, leaving you scrambling for words, as you shook your head silently, unsure of your own movements. His tantrums from before noncomparable to this-“Satoru,” you began, reaching for a steady tone, hoping to comfort him. The familiar name feeling foreign on your lips. After all this time—another thing you’d kept carefully distant. You’d always refrained from using their first names, setting boundaries early on, convinced it was best, even though it felt slightly too formal. The clan head had warned you not to get too close, after all, but Satoru had always pushed back, testing that line with lighthearted, almost bratty tantrums, practically begging you to drop the formality. Only rarely did you give in, maybe a handful of times over the years, and yet here you were, saying it now to comfort him—just like before.

“It’s an arranged marriage. Love doesn’t exactly come into it right away.” You attempted to placate him, not knowing how to handle his uncharacteristic outburst. His stare softened only marginally at hearing his name fall from your lips. You hesitated, attempting another soft smile, the silence still deafening. “Please,” You don't know what you were pleading for exactly.

Satoru’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as though he hadn’t quite heard the words he wanted. He looked away, as if he couldn't bear to see you. Suguru remained beside you, hands in places they normally wouldn't be. His steady presence is as unyielding as ever, watching you with that same intensity, his fingers brushing your shoulder almost as if in silent support—or silent warning. You couldn't just shake him off right now.

This didn't feel right.

And Suguru’s silence was as intense as Satoru’s gaze. His eyes held that familiar, unreadable look, his unspoken judgment impossible to ignore. He definitely wasn’t pleased either.

“Love shouldn’t come into it at all,” Suguru’s voice was low laced with a tension that sent a chill down your spine. “This arrangement… never should have happened in the first place. They had no right to decide this for you. Not with us here.” The possessiveness in his tone was now unmistakable. If his touches didn't give it away, his tone of voice surely did. Was he really doing this now?

Satoru let out a frustrated scoff, his hand running roughly through his hair as if he could shake off his irritation. The charm he usually wore so easily was gone, replaced by a rawness that still managed to catch you off guard. “If I’d had any say in this,” he muttered, his tone holding an uncharacteristic bitterness, “you’d never have left the clan house, let alone gotten tangled up in this shit.” His gaze pinned you in place, his blue eyes glinting with something—something wounded, vulnerable. He seemed to grow desperate at the lack of your response. At the lack of your answers.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” He seemed to be clinging on desperately to his last thread, pleading, a flash of hurt breaking through his usual bravado. “To Suguru? To either of us? At any time, had you just said something-you couldn't have wanted this.” Right? The question lingered, an underlying ache, an unspoken need for reassurance, for an answer that could ease the turmoil you caused. His voice begged for your placation. Begged for an answer that would satisfy them.

“I… I…” Your voice faltered, caught in the swirl of emotions. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t anticipated feeling so cornered, so affected by the intensity of their focus. Satoru’s gaze remained fixed on you, unwavering, while Suguru’s steady presence beside you only added to the weight pressing down on your heart. His hand heavy. But it hit you. It finally penetrated your thick skull.

The heavy emotion in their voices and the weight of their gazes struck you back through the years you’d shared together. Reminding you once again just who you were talking to. How had you not pieced it together? Not noticing it before, only now, standing so close to them, you noticed all the subtle changes— In their actions. In their voices. In their build. They felt imposing, more like the men you’d seen glimpses of in the manga, and less like the boys you’d spent so many years watching over.

They've grown. And as dumb as this sounds, these are now, in fact grown ass men. Somehow, in your mind, they’d remained frozen in those younger years, the boys you could still think of as children, as wards, as brothers. You forget, you're not they only one aging. But now, there was a gravity in Suguru’s lingering grip on your waist-your collarbone, a fierce predatory hunger and desperation in Satoru’s gaze that had you questioning everything. Are they seeing an older sister being forced into an arranged marriage? No. That wasn't the expression a younger brother holds for his sister. And that's not the lingering touch a brother should have. You’d been their constant, their unwavering presence through everything—someone they could always rely on. It would make sense for them to see you as an older sister. But…

Before this, everything seemed to fall into place—that was, until the clan proposal blindsided you. The clan had given you a place, a purpose, and protection in this scary world, and with that came oaths and obligations you couldn’t refuse. The marriage was an arrangement, a duty you’d been forced into. You assumed a role that made you closer to them than any other clan member or servant. With only a few years separating you, you’d found a connection with them that no one else could. You had brought them together, raising them as brothers, childhood friends, ensuring they’d have a bond far earlier and deeper than the story had allowed.

When you’d first found yourself isekaied into Gaygay's world, your purpose had been clear: fuck as much shit up as you could-change the loneliness that had defined their past, fill their lives with warmth and support. This ripple will create the butterfly effect you so desperately hoped for. Piece by piece, you’d crafted a life for them that was closer to family, introducing them to each other, creating the foundation they needed to lean on each other—and, as time went on, on you. Shared dinners, afternoon outings, quiet nights, nightmares soothed, and shared beds on nights they couldn’t sleep alone. You’d become a trusted part of their world, and you hadn’t questioned what they might see in you. And how it might change.

Something cracked within you, a flood of emotions and unanswered questions welling up, leaving you now on the verge of tears. Standing between the two of them as they waited for the answer that might finally satisfy them, even as you struggled to grasp what had shifted between you all. The realization hit hard, leaving you reeling, your stomach twisting at the newfound clarity. All those years you’d brushed off their glances, ignored the intensity that sometimes crept into their words, or the way their hands would linger just a second too long—it all seemed painfully obvious now. But this attachment—this deep dependence—was the inevitable consequence of everything you’d done to shield them from loneliness. This was your fault. You had wanted them to find stability in each other, to grow up without the isolating weight that haunted their futures, to sidestep the darker paths you knew awaited them. To avoid their eventual deaths.

You’d always imagined yourself fading quietly into the background, a supportive figure as they grew into the powerful sorcerers you knew they’d become. They seemed well on their way to that future, standing shoulder to shoulder, inseparable and stronger than you’d ever dared to hope. But now, standing here under their unyielding gaze, you felt a different ripple of something you hadn’t expected—a need you weren’t sure you even could answer.

Standing before Satoru and Suguru, you could feel the weight of their oppressive concern. They weren’t ready to let you fade into the background; to them, your life had always been theirs to protect. You'd always been seen as weaker-someone to protect, yet so warm. So theirs. And somewhere along the way, without meaning to, you had become more important to them than you’d ever intended. You loved them. You loved them so much. More than their characters in a book. You knew them now.

Suguru broke through the silence, noticing your distant misty eyes, not wanting to lose you to your thoughts. His voice low, the barely contained frustration sending a shiver down your spine. “They had no right,” he murmured, his voice a fraction of a hair away from the shell of your ear, with a conviction that made it clear he was speaking for the both of them. “Not when we would have done anything—anything to keep you from being used like this.” he seemed to pity your situation. Pitying you. Vying to gain your attention back. They didn't want to see you cry. Ok maybe they did-But if it meant getting answers from you…taking you home… they'd probe as much as they needed to.

“I’m… I’m not being used,” your voice so small, the words sounding weak and wobbly. You knew they were empty, a hollow reassurance that didn’t fool anyone—not even yourself. You had been on the verge of tears before, and all it would take now, is one small kick in that dam.

The man you’d married was calm, steady—a safe choice. You try and convince yourself. Marrying into the Kamo family hadn’t been the worst outcome. not the best either. You knew the dangers that lurked in the darker corners of Jujutsu society and were aware of the possible fates that could have awaited you if the clan had made a different decision. In that sense, this marriage was practical, logical, clinical. And yet, thinking things over, every reason you’d given yourself for going along with it felt so...insubstantial. If your assumption of their 'hidden' feelings were accurate, it would make sense as to why they'd be so nasty about the situation. In this moment, you couldn't even remember why you'd gone along with it-you sense of duty slowly being forgotten yet creeping in the back of your mind.

“C’mon now, Doll.” Suguru’s voice was low, threaded with a taunting edge that sliced through the quiet, each word deliberate and laced with something that pinned you in place. The whisper against you ear had you shivering again. When the fuck did his voice get so-He moved over to meet your gaze with an intensity that was hard to meet, making you feel strangely small and fragile in his presence. Despite the fact that you were a few years older, his stance, his tone—it was all so… commanding. He’d never called you “Doll ” before. Satoru was usually the one to throw around the nicknames, playful and light. But this? From Suguru, it felt different—possessive in a way that unsettled you, yet damn near excited you. How did you even feel about this shift? The question barely had time to take root before he continued.

“You can’t be naive enough to believe the clan doesn’t have… ulterior motives marrying you off like that,” he continued, each word deliberate, dark eyes boring into yours with a gravity that made your stomach tighten. The accusation in his voice was sharper than you’d expected, laced with something almost akin to disappointment. It was as if he couldn’t believe you’d allow yourself to be manipulated, to be used by the clan without protest. The accusation sank in, filling the silence between you, leaving you scrambling for words that felt weak before they even reached your lips. “It’s not… it’s not as bad as you’re making it sound,” what were you saying? Why were you denying it?

“You’re not… happy here… right?” Suguru’s voice was low and smooth, his words more of a command than a question. The thought of you confirming your happiness with another man…His gaze expectant and unyielding, his eyes narrowing as he waited for a response. No. The question wasn't a question; it was a verdict, one he expected you to deny.

Before you could speak, Satoru’s voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with disdain. “Why would she be, Suguru?” he scoffed, his tone mocking, vicious. He couldn't help himself. Arms crossed tightly over his chest, he looked at you with a hard glint in his eye. “He’s weak. Can’t protect her to save his life. Hell, he’ll probably die within a few months with the missions they’re throwing him on. It’d be doing her a favor, really.”

The words were merciless, dismissive in a way that made it clear. Satoru wasn’t merely being critical—he was condemning the man, speaking about him as though he were nothing more than a shadow, something insubstantial, barely worth acknowledging. His gaze flickered to yours, once again-daring you to say something, to offer a defense he wouldn’t allow you to stand by. Daring you to object, to defend the man they both considered unworthy of you.

“Satoru’s right,” Suguru’s voice almost gentle, as if trying to ease you into his words. Still so coaxing, wearing you down. “You’ve always deserved someone strong. Someone who wouldn’t need protection himself.” He paused, watching your reaction closely. “Not someone who’s one mission away from being carried out on a stretcher.”

Suguru tilted his head, studying you with a faint frown, his expression soft but no less intense. “What exactly did you think you were gaining by agreeing to this?” he asked, voice calm but pointed. “A protector? A partner?” He shook his head, lips twisting in a faint smile. “They could have picked anyone, and they gave you… him. Someone who can barely stand his ground, let alone yours.” Suguru let out a soft, derisive chuckle, seeming to laugh at his own joke. “He’s pathetic, really,” murmuring, his gaze flicking back to you. He's gotten more dramatic over the past year. “The kind of man who clings to you because he knows he could never measure up otherwise. Do you really want to be tied to someone like that? Someone who only brings you down?”

You felt your throat tighten, the instinct to defend yourself—and, by extension only, your husband, but Satoru’s eyes flashed, once again daring you to challenge him. “Don’t tell me you think he’s worthy of you, Sweetheart,” he said, his tone almost mocking, the pet name laced with double meaning now, as though the mere idea were laughable. “Someone like him doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near you. Let alone breathe the same air as you. He’s nothing but a pawn, doing whatever they tell him. And you’re too good to be dragged down by someone so… disposable.”

Suguru chimed in, his voice much lighter, coaxing you to your own answer, as he leaned a bit closer. “We just want what’s best for you,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with the same underlying scorn. “You’re worth more than some mediocre man who can’t even hold his own. Someone who only got close to you because the clan handed you over like… property.”

“I… It’s not about that,” Shut up, you thought. You didn't even know why you were arguing. Why bother when what they're saying is true? You didn't want your husband to die. And with what you knew now, it seemed his assignments may not have been as random as you'd hoped. You needed a second to breathe. To think. You couldn't place your feelings for the two. Did you have those underlying feelings? maybe-yes

“Oh, isn’t it?” Suguru scoffed at your pathetic attempt to defend that weakling, the intensity in his eyes only growing. His chest right up against your back, staring down at you. Satoru crowding your front side. The two had you surrounded. Far too suffocating. “Tell me, Doll, would you trust him with your life? With your future?” That damn pet name was doing nothing to help your nerves. You felt pinned at this moment. The situation seems more…dangerous than it should.

You felt your resolve wavering under their combined scrutiny, their words pulling at the insecurities you’d tried to ignore, the doubts you’d shoved down for the sake of stability. “It’s not… he doesn’t need to prove himself,” you managed, “Not like that.” You wanted to dispel some of their hostility, but you seemed to be failing. Suguru’s gaze grew colder, a faint, disappointed sigh escaping him. “You’re defending him, again,” he said quietly, his tone laced with something that felt like reproach. “Why, exactly? What has he done to earn that from you?”

“What, is he good in bed or something?” Satoru’s words cut through the air, each syllable loaded with mockery that hit you like a physical blow. Your head quickly snapped to look up at him, your stare disapproving and awkward. The question and his tone felt so out of place, so direct, so vile, that you found yourself at a loss for words. His expression twisted in disgust, his nose wrinkling as though he could hardly stomach the thought, despite having put it into existence himself. “Ugh, to even think about that bastard’s hands on you…” His voice trailed off, eyeing you up and down as if he'd find your husband's traces on you. His tone filled with a revulsion that left you speechless. “He can’t be that good,” his tone a mix of disdain and something darker, possessive. “Not when he’s so weak. Wouldn't have the stamina to last longer than a minute.” He kept going. And going.

Caught off guard by the sheer bluntness of the question. Dumbfounded. Words failed you as you struggled to piece together a response, embarrassed and unsure of how to address the accusations he was piling on. You felt your face grow hot, the embarrassment creeping down your neck. “S-shut up,” you stuttered out, unable to meet his eyes. His vulgar words trailing around the room, harassing you. It almost seemed like he enjoyed making you so uncomfortable. He ignored you.

“Satoru,” Suguru interjected, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable edge. His face remained controlled, almost serene, but his dark eyes betrayed a smoldering intensity, a fire simmering just beneath the surface. He gave Satoru a nasty look, as if telling him to behave. He finally sided with you this time it seemed. His gaze met yours, searching, as though expecting you to confirm or deny Satoru's initial concern. Your sex life. Was that why you were here? He couldn't see any other possibility. No protection. Always away. No previous relationship established. An arranged marriage. One that they could have prevented.

Why were you still here? The thoughts stirred in Suguru's head making him more and more restless at the idea of Satoru being correct.

“Or,” Suguru finally said, ignoring Satoru’s pouty look as he continued muttering quietly to himself about your husband, and his supposed poor performance in bed, “maybe that's the reason you’re staying, huh?” He leaned in closer, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that what this is, Doll? He’s… keeping you around for other reasons? That weakling?” His voice far from friendly, giving way to something more devious and cynical. He was losing his patience. He'd only been wanting to hear it from you. What your reasoning was, but, like Satoru, he couldn't stand the thought of that limp dicked man fucking you.

The words made your heart race, and you could feel your embarrassment clawing its way up, threatening to betray you further. “I-I..-what-,” you stuttered, head down, and your fist clenching. Your voice sounded so small, as you fumbled through the turn in the conversation, obviously never having breached a topic like

this with them before.

Suguru’s hand reached out, warm and steady as it tugged your chin to face him. His touch was comforting in its own way, yet his expression still far from warm. He looked at you with a mixture of disappointment, curiosity, his dark eyes searching yours. “Really?” he drawled, his voice a low whisper. “Is that what this is? Because, from where we’re standing, he doesn’t seem like he’s offering you anything you couldn’t find elsewhere.” His thumb traced a gentle line along your lips, his gaze intense. “Or am I wrong?” He simpered.

Satoru’s hand came to rest on your other shoulder, his fingers warm, sending a shiver down your spine as he leaned in. “You’re a beautiful woman, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “You deserve someone who you wouldn't settle for, someone who could actually keep up with you… please you.” His lips quirked up in a smirk, voice suggestive. “And let’s be honest here… he isn’t that man.”

Your face flushed even deeper, caught between the two of them, their words pressing in on you, along with their looming figures. This conversation was growing painful, circling around and around. You felt like it wasn't going anywhere. Not that you could do much to help it. When they had a goal, they achieved it. “It’s… complicated,” your last attempt. Hoping they'd drop it. Hoping that that was the end. Why were you even bothering keeping your situation a secret? Your promises?

“Complicated?” Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as though the idea was ridiculous. “Oh, come on. It’s not that complicated. You’re married to a man who’s leagues beneath you. Do you really think he’s what you need? That he could satisfy you properly?” His gaze flickered over you, intense and unyielding, and you could feel the question hanging in the air, heavy and loaded. The question was uncomfortably intimate, each word laced with accusation. Satoru held your gaze, the silence stretching between you heavy and loaded, and you felt as though they could both see right through your hesitation. “If he’s everything you want… everything you need,” Satoru murmured, his voice soft, coaxing, “then why does it feel like you’re trapped?”

His words were gentle, soothing, and framing the accusation as your own. His eyes remained on you, steady and intense, and you felt the weight of his question press against your carefully constructed reasons. They were putting words into your mouth. You knew it. Yet you could admit, it did kind of feel as though you were trapped. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck, caught in your throat. Finally you kept your mouth shut. The intensity of their combined presence, their fingers brushing over your skin, the steady, unyielding weight of their gazes, made it hard to focus, hard to even think. You wanted to go home.

“Come back with us,” Satoru murmured, his voice smooth and persuasive, his hand slipping to cup your cheek, taking it from Suguru. He tilted your face up to meet his piercing blue eyes. “We’ll take you back to the clan house. We know we’ve… neglected you, left you to figure all this out alone. We won’t make that mistake again.” “B-but I can't defy the clan head…the higher ups…I promised-.” your voice came out somewhat strained. Satoru’s expression darkened as he ran a hand through his hair, a grimace tugging at his features. He had hoped to wiggle some confession from you. Wanted to see just where your heart lied, and whether it was worth killing off that waste of space husband of yours.

“And who do you think is running the clan now?” he grumbled, voice laced with frustration. Giving you an out. Tell them you want out of this marriage. You're shocked. The always so careless and flippant, Satoru Gojo had finally settled and taken hold of his responsibilities. Something you never wanted to pressure him into. He muttered under his breath, cursing the family he was supposed to lead—the family that had taken it upon themselves to marry you off without a single word to him, the heir. Until now, he’d distanced himself from the responsibilities that came with his title, choosing instead to focus on missions, on battles. But this—marrying you off without even a whisper in his ear—was a final insult. It disgusted him almost as much as the man they’d chosen for you. Spineless. Weak. Unworthy-

You swallowed. Before your marriage, both of them were constantly away on missions, caught up in their own responsibilities, and their time with you was sparse—a few hours here and there, sometimes together, but more often than not just brief moments in passing. After the marriage, your interactions dwindled even further as the clan pushed you to focus on your new “duties” and distance yourself from your past.

His words sound tempting. A promise to take you home. To your familiar room. But what would happen then? Seeing your resolve finally waver, and your decision within reach, their interrogative assault seemed to be finally over. They would seal the deal. You gain reprieve from their questions and smothering gazes, as they seemed somewhat back to normal. Their eyes filled with nothing but warmness and affection towards you. Maybe it would be better to just go back to the clan house and let Satoru deal with the aftermath. He was still the strongest. What was really so wrong with letting him deal with the higher ups? Backing out of your duties. Out of your promises. “Maybe…” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, the words trailing off as you struggled to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within you, you avoid their gazes. You did love them. It was part of your reasoning for making those changes in the story. What would happen when you got home? The question repeating itself in your head. They hadn't necessarily confessed to the feelings they'd shown on their sleeves. The idea of going back to the clan house, of letting Satoru handle the consequences, seemed like a relief, a way to escape the uncertainty and pressure you’d been feeling.

Satoru’s hand remained on your cheek, his touch warm and constant, as he leaned in for a hug. Finally embracing you. Sealing the deal. You hadn't realized just how much you missed their hugs. “It’s not complicated, Sweetheart. Just come with us. We’ll take care of everything, handle the fallout, make sure you never have another worm sleeping next to you ever again.”

You let out a soft laugh at this, finding such comfort in his arms at that moment. He was serious, despite his fronting it as a joke. You'd never be marrying another man, aside from himself and Suguru. Suguru’s remained behind you, falling into the hug you shared with Satoru. “You don’t have to carry the weight of this alone,” he said softly, his gaze holding yours with a steady, unyielding warmth. “We’ve always been stronger together, haven’t we?”

You felt a sense of ease wash over you, the tension that had been knotting your stomach slowly unraveling in the warmth of their words, the gentleness of their touch. With them, the pressure and expectations seemed to slip away, replaced by a comforting familiarity that made the decision feel… inevitable.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmured, feeling yourself give in, surrendering to the gentle coaxing in their voices, the promise of stability and support that lay within their eyes. The clan house, with them by your side, suddenly felt like the only place you truly belonged.

p. 2

come home

I post updates in this community so feel free to check it out: https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

147 notes · View notes