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[mysticalsoot]

heaven is you (godbur au)

first installment of my godbur au & gift to my sister &lt;3

➸ note; i wanted to finish this for @lillylvjy. lillys been a big play in why i still write and why i haven’t given up on shifting or given up on myself or this account. thanks to her i don’t impulsively delete things and i move forward. a few months ago i threw the idea of godbur at her and we talked about it and formed this character, she gives me the credit but she deserves just as much credit as i do. she’s my sister, regardless of biological attachment, she is my sister. i love her and i will protect her for as long as she’ll let me. she’s always there for me, holding me up and supporting me. if i’m upset or hurt, she’s there to listen and offer support. she also spends way more money on me than she should. and i love her, so a little note, don’t mess with her. thank you lills, i love you and enjoy this lil fic i somehow managed to finish in a day! also big thanks to @sleeby-anon for helping me pick out the photo and just helping me with this fic- tysm! you’re very cool and i love u (thank you for being a good friend to lilly :3 )

➸ pairing; godbur x gn!reader

➸ summary; after a few (actually, many) instances where you risked your life in order to reach your beloved wilbur’s world, you have a final disagreement that brings him to a few realizations and maybe some more effort to bring you want you want

➸ warning; kinda hurt but comfort at end, illusions to suicide but not flat out said, probably swearing, is there an unbalanced power dynamic? probably, uses of baby (i’m sorry i’m a sucker for it-), i think that’s it!

➸ age-rating; 15+

➸ wordcount; 2k

main masterlist

"darling," the word rolled off wilbur's tongue with ease, like it had been spoken millions of times. perhaps it had been, but your mind was too foggy with fear and desperation to think clearly, "you can't keep doing this."

he pleads for you, hands on your shoulders and eyebrows pulling together as he looks down at you.

"what else am I supposed to do?" your voice cracks as the words flow out, and he frowns, shaking his head and looking to the side.

"live," he pauses, turning his head to face you. his grip on your shoulders tightens just a bit, "there's more to life than seeking refuge in my world. be alive, live in mortality."

he's begging you, pleading for you. he hates to see you hurt, and he hates the way his world's laws are. you can't be thrust into immortal responsibilities yet, and you can't stay long as a mortal with purpose. you have to go, but you would rather die a million more times before you accept that.

"can't you just let me stay? what's the problem in letting me be free where I want to be, with you," you're pleading with him now. on your hands and knees praying to the god before you to just let you stay. you're standing, knees going weak just a smidge. your eyes are burning from tears and your cheeks are wet with a desperation.

"I can't, I really can't," his frown deepens and he pulls you into his chest, face in his white ruffly shirt. he smells like home, but a home you can never truly have. he cups the back of your head with his hand, rubbing at your scalp with his fingertips as you sigh.

"it's the rules," a kiss to the top of your head and you want to scream and cry and bang at his chest. but you don't, you stay still in his grasp, holding your calm in your hands so tightly.

"the rules are stupid," you mumble into his shirt, he moves a hand to rub your back.

he chuckles, nodding in agreement before speaking again, "I agree, love."

days pass after he sent you back, you mulled over ways and methods you could reach him again in desperate hope he'd finally give in to your pleas and let you stay.

you were wandering the woods, pacing between trees as you tried to narrow down your plans. you could try summoning him, but it wasn't fool proof. you could try to speak to him through meditation, but he sometimes ignored you 'for your sake'.

you weren't sure what would work, and you were kicking yourself for not knowing. but also for the doubts that filled your mind. what if he kicked you out again? told you to never see him again and made sure you couldn't? what if he forced you to live out your mortality purely out of his anger at you. what if he was angry?

you sigh, resting your head against the tree, sighing as you screw your eyes shut, banging your fist against the bark before stepping back.

"what more do you want?" you beckon up at the sky, he's not listening, you're sure of it but you need to be angry at something, somewhere. it's unfair.

"for you to listen," his voice mumbles in your mind and you scoff, shaking your head as the memory of his accent echoes in your mind.

"yeah well, you don't have the best ideas, now do you?"

"y/n.." he murmurs, his tone a gentle warning to you so you don't say something you'll regret. or do something, for that matter.

"wilbur," you copy his tone, mocking it almost before you groan, falling to sit on the ground.

"you know you can't do this, you know that," you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he draws it out and softens it just to reach out to you and make amends for it.

"but what else am I meant to do?" you want to scream at the top of your lungs, cry to him and bitch about the situation you're in. how you're continually denied what you want. you thought you proved yourself, you thought you proved that you could handle immortality. that you could handle him.

it's silent, not a sound is made around you or even echoed in your mind. you wondered if his methods of communication were a curse or a blessing. it felt more like a curse at the moment. it felt like a taunt to you, how powerless you felt down on earth, in morality. you felt so out of control, like a puppet. and maybe wilbur was the puppeteer, but who’s to say it wasn’t someone else? maybe he was just an illusion, a hallucination that controlled your motives and thoughts simply by the prospect of maybe having some hope to grasp onto. a nice, soft candle in the middle of a dark and empty room.

he was the light you couldn’t quite reach.

he finally speaks up, his tone rushed and worried, but his words keep you from second guessing it, “i have an idea.”

“what?” you mumble, nearly tripping over the single word.

“you want to stay with me, yes?” he sounds almost frustrated for a moment before sighing almost exasperated.

“yes, yes, that’s what i’ve been saying. you never listen-“

wilbur cuts you off, “i listen, i promise. okay? i listen to you, now, listen to me for a second, okay baby?”

you ponder for a moment before giving in, “fine.”

“i’ll let you come back, under a few conditions,” you wait a moment, giving him time to list his conditions but he doesn’t seem to budge on his own.

“and what are those?” you fold your arms over your chest, huffing as you imagine wilbur pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing at you.

“i’ll tell you when you get here, okay?” he pauses, sand surprisingly you can hear the hesitation almost as if he were there with you and not just speaking through your mind, “there’s a tree-“

“a tree? wow, so fancy,” your annoyance bubbling up at the way he wasn’t being direct.

he warns you again, a whispering of your name to keep you in line before he continues, “there’s a tree a few minutes in front of you, there will be lilliums around the base and a circle door in the middle. it’ll take you here, no need to do what you normally do, okay? please just, don’t do something stupid and get up here, okay?”

you take a moment before answering, wondering if you want to believe him or ignore him at the moment, “okay, fine.”

you wait a few minutes, making sure he doesn’t have anything more to say before standing up and beginning the walk over to the tree. it feels stupid, how hopeful you are and how confident you feel over walking to a damn tree as if it’ll fix your biggest qualm with the way your god’s world works. you stop short, maybe a good eight feet from the base of the tree, your eyes dancing around and staring at the lilly flowers lining the base and spreading over the roots. you play with the idea of turning around and walking back, abandoning him and any loyalty you had to him. but then you look back at the trunk before you and sigh, giving in and stepping back towards it. your fingers reach out to grasp the hook on the corner, pulling it back and crawling in, not without doubts of course but you aren’t sure what you have to lose.

you pull the door back to close it and turn around, darkness encompassing your whole being as you feel a sort of light feeling take over your senses. are you dreaming? it doesn’t feel like a dream, but it seems like one. are you real? is this real?

your thoughts shut off, cut like a guillotine, but the blade being the darkness and silence. you no longer felt anything but a void, and then you began to feel warm fabric, and then a whiff of cologne hit your nose and then you were finally able to open your eyes.

“i see you’re awake?” you peek up, rubbing your eyes as you take in your surroundings, eyes catching on the familiar figure of wilbur, sitting in a reading chair in the corner of his bedroom. you’ve been here before, you’ve slept in this bed but now it feels different. it’s a good different, but it isn’t the same.

“i am now,” you pause, tossing the covers over and off your legs as you sit up against the ornate headboard, gazing over at him as he meets your eyes and sets down his journal, “what happened?”

“i convinced myself that i could manage switching your role to immortal,” he sighs, moving his gaze to the floor as he chews his lip, mind reeling as he lists off all the rules he broke just to bring his love into his life.

“mm, was it paperwork that kept you from it?” you chuckle, much too happy at the moment to even think of how angry you were and still are at him.

“no,” he chuckles dryly, shaking his head, “it was.. more serious than that but that’s no talk for now. how are you feeling, love?” he stands from his chair, finding a spot on the edge of the bed by your feet and resting his hands on your legs.

“i couldn’t be more tired, what the hell happened? how did i get here?” you murmur, rubbing your eyes as you take note of the pulsing ache at your temples.

“i guided you through a dream, to get here, and once you reached this world, i switched some things around in your file,” he squeezes your calf, his eyes staring at the wall for a good minute before meeting your gaze.

“so that means…?”

“you’re immortal and no longer have any ties with your old world, you’re mine now, just the way you wanted,” he sighs, lifting your legs to lay over his lap as he reaches over and kisses your forehead. there’s a sort of calmness about him that you’ve yet to see until now. you never knew such peace could exist in him.

“i’ll answer any question you have.” you nod to him, acknowledging his offer but not knowing where to start,

you have too many questions to even verbalize, or let alone ask, and the growing headache isn’t helping either. so after a moment’s contemplation, you decide to let the piles questions take a rest while you enjoy your wilbur’s company.

you lean forward and kiss his cheek once, and you watch as a gentle rosiness floods the pale skin that he adorns and his lips curl up in a smile.

“how about we have a day to ourselves and celebrate?” you suggest, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers, chewing on your lip as you keep your eyes down.

“okay, as long as you promise to ask questions later?” he tilts your head up by your chin, a loving care in his eyes.

“promise,” you smile, kissing the tip of his nose before continuing and jumping off the bed, “now show me that pretty garden you have, yeah?”

he smiles, standing up and meeting you where you stand. he leans down, hands resting on your cheeks with giggles escaping his lips at your excitement, “may i kiss you first?”

“yes, sir you may,” your fingers wrap around his waist as he brings his lips to yours, smiling softly as your mouths move in sync. a moments pass before you both need air and you pull back, moving to tug on his hand, “now come on! show me the lilliums!”

he leads you out to the garden, smiling the whole way as he can’t help but to think how grateful he is that he broke a few rules and let heaven be you.

taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @willgoldszn @whos-nicooo @zebonos

[charmspoint]

Psst, any Geto and Gojo headcanons?

I can't believe you'd encourage me like this anon, when I'm fucking crazy about these two, I'm not normal.

 Gojo

The thing I usually headcanon on Gojo about is his upbringing. In all my Gojo fics its mentioned at least a little bit and his mother will be making a cameo in Curse!Gojo AU when that comes out so look forward to that. Either way it’s very interesting to me that when we see Gojo as a child he looks so serious. Like he’s intense, everyone who sees him is like wtf is wrong with this child, there’s already that sense of this is not a human being like us, he does look fairly self-confident when he notices Awasaka tryin to go in for the kill. I don’t think we ever see child Gojo like…smile. Which is so different from both his present self and his high school self so it’s really striking. I think a lot of us are wondering what Gojo’s upbringing was like, how does his family see him, what do they feel about him. I always headcanoned it as a very closed off, strict upbringing and this kind of only grew stronger when we find out that one of the six eye users before him was killed as a baby. Like I imagine him closed off from the jujutsu world at large and kept in for training. Sorcerers from the big three families don’t really have to go to school cuz its assumed their families will teach them what they need to know but I think Gojo was basically jumping out of his skin to go. Like, if you lived inside one estate your whole life, if your whole life your family has been breathing down your neck and you properly weren’t allowed out of their sight until you at least mastered infinity (cuz I reckon they wouldn’t let him with Kenjaku out at large and being known to target six eye users) you’d be fuckin jumping at getting away from them too. And then when he finally got some fuckin control over his life it’s no wonder that he was like that tm in high school. He’s like 15, he’s out on his own for first time ever, he’s fuckin insane. I like to headcanon that for at least a good year Gojo was goddamn everywhere trying to experience stuff he just didn’t get to as a kid, usually pulling Geto and Shoko along with him. I write about this in Sweet on  series but I do think he was very hungry for life, very hungry to do things, very hungry to make his own decisions. And like he’s a teenager, both he and Geto are teenagers with very teenager midsets of ‘lol I don’t care imma just do what I want’ to ‘ there is the Right way tm and I alone have figured it out’. But I do think that there in highschool, Geto was exactly what Gojo needed. He was both a partner in crime and a peaceful eye of the storm. He balanced out Gojo’s energy with his own more restrained one but was a bastard also. They found a home in each other, they found a place to belong to in each other.

 Geto

I feel like most of what I think about Geto has already been said ten times over hjvhjbh but I guess that can be said for Gojo too. Thinking about the way Geto grew up is very interesting since he was a sorcerer from a nonsorcerer family and with his technique…it must have been difficult. I always think about how easily Geto killed his parents off. Yeah he says he can’t make exceptions but really? They were literally his second murder (the first being a collective one). Like even if you became genocidal I would assume that people close to you, your family and friends, would kinda slip under that radar. For them it would be more normal to go ‘this is different, there are different’ in attempt to both hold on to your ideology and not, you know, eradicate the people closest to you. Which is a big reason why I don’t think Geto had a particularly nice family life either. Seeing curses and being able to take them in (though idk when Geto would have figured out he can take em in so it was normal but it probably had to be more high school cuz they scouted him for SOMETHING) just spells as something people would read as a mental illness. And knowing how much mental illness can be stigmatized….not a happy childhood, I don’t think Geto was very attached to his parents at all. He was probably just as happy as Gojo to leave and attend school. He would have probably stayed there year round if that was a possibility. And again I have to mention that Geto n Gojo found home in each other. They both give off a feeling of someone who was alone before and now found a place to belong and clung to that like nothing else. I also like to think about Geto post his defection because Gege mentioned that he didn’t like to interact with non sorcerers at all, not even for things he needed. That’s why I think Geto is a househusband of your dreams, he can do anything. He cooks, he bakes, he cleans, he has a lil garden on his balcony to grow his own vegetables (so he doesn’t have to take stinky monkey vegetables), he has it all, girls want him guys wanna be him, except his genocidal. Also I adore thinking of him as his quasi-fatherly role he has with Nanako and Mimiko. Geto already has long hair so you can’t tell me he doesn’t know some tricks and I like to imagine him and Nanako n Mimiko in a little braid train, of course he would let them braid his hair too.

 Idk how much of this is headcanons and how much is just me holdin satosugu and cryin but I hope you enjoyed it <3. I feel like I have many more thoughts about these two buts its getting late here and I kind of have a headache so jgbjhgj these will have to do!!