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sixeyescurseuser · 6 months ago

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Thinking about an alternate timeline where Geto never defected; he and Gojo took Megumi and the twins in, raising them as one little family.

Whenever smol Megumi had a nightmare, he would sneak into his parents room and wiggle his littol body in between Gojo and Geto.

Upon hearing Megumi’s sniffles, Gojo would instantly wake up. He'd pull the child in to fit against his tummy, softly shhhing him and telling him it’s safe so go back to sleep.

Or whenever Geto reads his books on the couch, the twins love mimicking him. Well, Mimiko mimics him with an actual book while Nanako is more content to brush her doll’s hair. But they’re still spending quality time together doing their own activities.

If Geto helps the kids with homework, then Gojo whips up a five-star-dinner.

When the Gojo/Geto household go on a road trip, Geto dutifully drives and Gojo points out whatever interesting things - cars, scenery, landmarks - they pass by.

Because he’s the youngest, Megumi is awarded the middle seat in the back. He frowns the entire car ride to their destination.

(“Megoomi! Relax that face, or else you’ll have wrinkles in your twenties,” Gojo teases.

Through the rearview mirror, Megumi glares at him like a grumpy cat.)

A couple years later, teen Megumi steadily grows, and Geto has to tell the twins: “Okay girls, let Megumi-kun have the side. He’s taller than both of you now.”

***

When Megumi enters Jujutsu Tech, he’s fawned over because he has the famous dads in the jujutsu world. Some of the curses even know about Megumi (who has traces of his dads’ cursed energies on him) and want to mess with Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru’s kid.

Sometimes, a little part of Megumi wishes he could exist without being recognized as Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru’s kid.

But at the same time, he wouldn’t trade them for the world. It’s just that shouldering the expectations and Gojo/Geto name is a lot to handle as a younger teenager.

The first year consists of adjusting for Gojo and Geto as well, as they have to be professional and treat Megumi as any other student. At times, the line between parents and teachers can be difficult to manage.

Megumi lives in the dorms now, so he has a space away from his parents. Though he knows he can always crash at his parents' house if he wants.

In fact, Megumi goes home often to see his sisters - who have opted for normal school - and enjoy his dad’s (Geto’s) cooking.

***

On his sixteenth birthday, Megumi makes a drastic mistake.

He hadn’t meant to be a party pooper on his special day, it’s just that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night prior, and his body still ached from the injuries he sustained on his previous mission.

Moreover, even though he requested a quiet gathering later in the day, Megumi now sits in front of a cake at ten in the morning, surrounded by his friends and family who have dragged him out to a restaurant that is infamous for having a whole production for customers who dine in on their birthdays.

Under the pressure of dozens of eyes and non-stop talking, cheering, and singing, Megumi inhales deeply, then exhales, blowing out all sixteen candles-

and making the impulsive wish to be alone.

***

Megumi wakes up in his dorm room, alone. No signs of people singing happy birthday or the taste of cake lingering on his tongue.

This is…perfect?

Megumi lets out a long yawn. He glances out the window, he briefly wonders where all the snow went? Did it really all melt after one night?

A light rapping at his door breaks Megumi out of his stupor.

“Fushiguro! Are you awake?” Yuji’s voice filters from the hallway. “Gojo-sensei sent me to check on you. Our meeting started five minutes ago.”

Meeting…what meeting? Weren’t they on winter break? It had just been his birthday, right? What could the meeting possibly be about?

“Coming!” Megumi calls out, then quickly jumps out of bed to get dressed.

Walking to the classroom, Yuji whistling by his side, Megumi realizes it’s not even winter anymore. The flowers are in full bloom, and the sun shines down in all its glory.

Something is seriously off, Megumi knows.

This is proven even further when the meeting Gojo called his students for is to inform them about the upcoming Goodwill Event with their sister-school from Kyoto.

Megumi has no recollection of his parents discussing this to be so soon, nor does he know how the seasons suddenly changed and everyone seemed to be on the same page except for him.

Feeling sorely out of the loop, Megumi takes advantage of his classmates’ constant chatter to wave his father over. Gojo approaches Megumi’s desk with his hands shoved in his pockets, and black blindfold secured over his eyes.

“Dad, what’s going on? I thought we didn’t start up classes until the new year,” Megumi says. Gojo’s lips twitch into a smile, hesitant yet cheerful.

“Oh? What is this? Are you going to call me Dad after all these years? Megumi is finally coming around!" Gojo exclaims, clapping his hands excitedly. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow in deep confusion.

"What? But I always call you-" Megumi starts, but Gojo has already turned away to answer one of Nobara's questions.

Megumi's heart sinks.

His father has never turned away from him like that before. Never.

Without thinking, Megumi pulls his phone out and frantically searches for his other dad's number. The longer it takes for Megumi to find the contact "Papa," the more Megumi's heart dangerously speeds up.

This can't be, Megumi thinks as he finishes scrolling through his contact three times.

It's- it's not there.

Something is very, very wrong...

When the meeting concludes, every student except Megumi filters out of the classroom.

(Fushiguro? You coming?” Yuji questions. Megumi shakes his head and explains he has to ask Gojo-sensei a couple questions.

“We’ll meet you at the front in fifteen minutes. I need some new outfits for this event,” Nobara says. She and Yuji shuffle out after that.)

Now alone with his father(?), Megumi asks where his Papa Geto is.

Gojo instantly freezes at those words. “What did you say?”

“Papa…he’s not here. I can’t find his contact in my phone either,” Megumi elaborates, holding up his device. “Where is he? Usually, you’d be all over him by now.”

“Who, Megumi, who?” Gojo pushes.

Megumi answers, “My papa, Geto Suguru?”

Gojo is silent for a short beat, then utters the first thing that his disassociating mind can muster: “You're not my Megumi."

And he slams Megumi against the wall.

“DAD? PLEASE STOP! YOU’RE HURTING ME! I-I DON'T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON!?” Megumi yells, his heart slamming against his ribcage now being on the receiving end of his not-father’s attack.

Meanwhile, Gojo shoves his blindfold off and uses six eyes to scan the boy up and down. But nothing about Megumi's cursed energy seems off. Everything seems to be in place…

This is Fushiguro Megumi.

"Dad...I'm sorry, I don't know what I did wrong," Megumi whimpers, gripping the wrists that pin him with unmovable strength.

His traitorous eyes begin to tear up, paralyzing fear crawling down his spine. He wants to go back to bed and wake up between his parents after this horrible nightmare, wants to wake up after being squished in the middle seat during their five-hour car ride, wants to go back to the familiarity of his home where his family was-

"I want my Papa b-back…”

Gojo abruptly releases Megumi from his hold, crystal-blue eyes shaking in disbelief.

Megumi collapses to the ground but scrambles back up and flees.

What have I done? The two of them think to themselves.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

#jjk #fushiguro megumi #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu fluff #satosugu fanfic #goge #cerdrabbles #alternate timeline #angst #Megumi just got Shrek-4-Ed

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rowniebow · 1 year ago

Note

Fic where Peter and reader are already dating and Peter is distant because of his obvious job which leaves reader hurt and angry and starts becoming distant and detached with Peter which causes Peter to get mad and then they fight and peter blurts out “are you cheating on me?” Which causes reader to get furious and start yelling which catches peter off guard and reader leaves, can take the story where you want past this. sorry if this is long and confusing or doesn’t make sense (Tom or andrews pete but you can do Tom if it really matters) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

it can be okay | tom!peter parker x gn!reader

pairings: tom!peter parker x gn!reader

cw: littol bit o angst but not much

word count: 3.4k+

an: went with tom's because i've yet to write abt his peter but i feel like he was left with so much turmoil after no way home, his peter fits well with this prompt...... ANYWAY thank you so much for requesting and i apologize for my absence, esp if u were waiting around for this ! i appreciate you, please stay safe! sry 4 long an

masterlist

⭒

you felt an arm wrap around your waist. warmth and pressure spread over your back. you flipped around to wrap your own arms around the man that had climbed into bed with you.

"sorry," his breath found its way to your ear and pulled the hair on your spine up. his quiet whisper held gravel in the smooth concrete of his voice. "did i wake you up?"

"yeah, i'm glad."

"oh, good. i'm glad i woke you, too. get more time to hear your voice."

you hummed, sleep fighting your coherent words.

"how was your day?"

"it was fine. i missed you for our movie night."

petter stuttered out several different sounds, none of them making any real words.

your eyebrows twitched at his struggle.

"i-i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i completely forgot. i-i-i-i got so caught up with homework i didn't even think... it's that stupid biology class! i always have so much reading to do for it.

"yeah, it's okay," you moved closer to him, desperate for as much of his warmth as possible. "school is more important than movies! let me know next time, though."

"of course," he kissed the top of your head. he lingered with an exaggerated 'mwah'. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart."

you hummed and slurred out a reassurance.

"go back to sleep now, sweets."

and it was okay.

⭒⭒

everything was so much louder when he wasn’t around.

the fridge’s song sung by instruments of kinetic energy hummed at the back of your head. the calm air against the glass window was practically visible with how loud it was. the dust that settled on the marble kitchen countertops and sunk it’s way into the fabric of your couch crunched and stretched the fibers of the masses. you couldn’t seem to turn the television up much higher than seven (you hoped the number might bring you luck to bring the man home).

sure, he’s missed nights that were supposed to be set aside for you two and his favorite star wars films. yes, you’ve noticed how he’s missed more than a few fairly important tests for his classes, causing him to fail (he was beginning to fall fairly far behind in his degree, but you weren’t going to comment on that. not yet, anyway).

but, he’d yet to miss out on a date.

he had yet to leave you waiting at your favorite shitty twenty-four hour diner in the middle of new york that was a forty minute walk from your apartment.

you wouldn’t deny to anyone other than peter that it bothered you a bit. your lip was raw and crumbs from a sad, newly empty plate of fries dusted your nicest clothes that you had put on just for him. your eyes wore heavy bags from how late you stayed up in hope that maybe he was just running a bit late.

however, when a bit late had become two in the morning, you gave up hope on that.

you looked outside at the nearly visible air and listened to the chill of the early morning crack at your window after you arrived back at your empty apartment at nearly three in the morning. you listened to the distant wind against the quickly moving vehicles. you listened to the retreating caw from a bird that didn’t sound like any you’d heard before. you listened to the dust float through the air and the television hum despite it being off. you listened to the deafening silence of the room and your mind.

cold three in the morning apartment air hit the back of your throat as you brought as much of the toxic oxygen into your lungs as you possibly could, and released it to be filtered and given to some other poor abandoned soul.

it was okay.

you understood his forgetful habits. you understood why he slept in and took so many naps. he has a lot on his plate. juggling school, and work, and the family issues that he’s mentioned from time to time.

it is okay.

maybe next time.

⭒⭒⭒

waking up alone after a warm night with peter seemed to hurt more than the missing arrangements.

the apartment's chill leaked under the blankets and burned your skin until you awoke. the emptiness of the space next to you in your bed was a sad physical representation of the emptiness in your gut.

the hole in your stomach that you awake with absorbs all the cereal you eat and leaves you feeling hungry for the rest of the day. it absorbs your joy and hope. it absorbs the warmth in your body (and especially in your smile).

your days are filled with sighs when you wake up with the hole of peter. with those deep exhales, you hope to breath out whatever haunts your stomach.

it sticks with you until the end of the day when you fall asleep alone. peter will climb in after you in the depths of the night and the ocean of your sheets. he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear. he'll apologize if need be. he'll pepper you with kisses and hold you close.

and you'll be okay.

then he'll do it all over again.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

it just so happened to be next time.

he promised to make the last time up to you and promised to see you the next friday night for dinner.

so there you sat, leg bouncing under the table at a restaurant that was all too fancy for your taste but peter had insisted on.

you were on your third glass of an odd color wine (that really didn’t even taste good) and you were nearing the second hour of waiting.

“would you like to order yet, sir?” the waiter asked for the fifth time that night.

perhaps it was the alcohol that brought a sting to your eyes when you checked the time on your phone. but you smiled and shook your head and asked for the check instead.

looking at the number on the check, you nearly sobbed at how much three glasses of wine cost you. but you sighed and gave an eighty percent tip anyway as reparations for the waiter having to pity you all night. you almost sobbed, again, when you could hear a couple that had gotten there after you comment to one another about how long you’d been there.

cheeks warm with embarrassment, you made your way back to your apartment. the chill of the late night spring mildly helped cool you down.

the pity in the waiter's eyes and the couple's comments haunted you all the way home. only when you undressed into your sleep clothes and climbed under the covers could you manage to excuse peter's actions.

peter must have simply gotten caught up in homework. he must have just fallen asleep.

it's okay.

perhaps he got the days mixed up and forgot it was friday. or he got his hours for work wrong and he ended up having to work.

it is okay.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you truly didn’t mean to lean away from his kiss when peter tried to wish you goodbye that evening.

but you did.

you leaned away as if it were a stranger that was trying to kiss you. you truly didn’t mean to. you also knew that you truly felt as though it was a stranger trying to kiss you, though.

you knew it hurt him. quite honestly it hurt you, too. whether it was the pain in his features that hurt you or the fact that you felt that way.

either way, your actions hurt the both of you, and you knew you should apologize. you nearly did right then and there.

"are you cheating on me?" the quiet whispers of words that he choked out hit you like lightning. the frown in his lips and the way he avoided your eyes made your heart crack before you could process the words he spoke. his broken voice distracted you from the content it delivered.

you felt your eyebrows pull together at first. you felt the apology creep in your throat and nearly spill out.

his hurt was a new language for you to learn. it forced you to think over each word and remember the meaning of it similar to how you did in spanish class in high school.

and as the syllables set in and your brain wrapped itself through the vowels and consonants, you scoffed. maybe even laughed.

did he really just say that? did he truly feel like he had the nerve to say that?

"am i cheating on you?" a glare made itself comfortable in your features.

it's not okay.

"...no?" peter’s stuttered, hesitant disagreement made his regret in his words clear. but how could you just brush over his accusation?

"peter parker, i should be asking you that question."

"wha-what do you mean?"

"you're the one who's hardly fucking here. you’re the one that’s left me waiting until the morning for you to come around. you’re the one who ‘forgets’ anytime we agree to hang out.”

it is not okay.

“i-i didn’t-,”

“‘you didn’t’ what? remember? show up?”

his silence was as loud as it is when he’s gone.

“where are you all day, peter?”

“where are you at night?”

fucking

“where are you right now. are you even here?”

loud.

“get out.”

“what? no - no, please, y/n, you gotta trust me on this.”

nothing is okay.

“i trusted you to be here!”

“i know, and i’m so sorry, but - ah - i can’t tell you. you just-just gotta trust me!”

“no, peter!”

“please, i’ll make it up to you, i swear!”

“you’ve had plenty of chances for that.”

“c’mon, y/n,”

“no! even if you’re not cheating on me, you obviously don’t have time for me!”

“i’ll make time for you,”

“you really should have already been doing that.”

“i’ll make more time for you!”

“you don’t get more time in a day, and you’re not getting anymore from me, parker. christ- are you going to leave?"

"no! y/n, please, let me make this right, i-i can't lose you, too."

"fuck. i will leave then, jesus!"

"what?"

you slipped your shoes on, ignoring his words.

peter called your name as you opened the door.

"goodnight, peter."

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you stayed at your parents house for a couple nights then came back to your empty apartment. the silence wasn't as loud as it normally was, but the intensity of the emptiness, both in the apartment and in the pit of your stomach, made up for the lack of overbearing volume.

you went about your life for two whole weeks with that emptiness haunting you. not a word from peter. about anything.

you went to your classes, studied in your room, went to work, came back and went to sleep: the college dream.

you hardly even noticed two weeks had passed with the way you had just been floating through the days.

with your mind blank without the joy and excitement of peter parker in your life, you filled it with the words from your humanities textbook to prepare for a final.

the jiggling of your apartment doorknob cut through the sound of the words in your head. your eyes immediately went wide. the air became thick as you heard the door squeak open slowly but surely.

your breath was stuck in your throat, but you found it in you to pick up your heavy textbook to toss if you needed.

you listened to the door creek shut and click closed.

perhaps someone just mistook your apartment for their own? maybe a new neighbor who's mixing it up? you're sure it's just a simple mistake and not some horrible, evil, scary, stronger-than-you criminal who wants to steal the little bits of items you have. certainly they won't murder you brutally, or kidnap you and sell you.

certainly not, right?

your mind ran wild with what-if's and dangers of the situation. what else was there to do in the face of danger, though? hide under your blankets and hope they don't come in?

no, you'd at least like to look death in the face before you go.

that didn't stop your racing heart and shaking hands, of course.

so you crept around your door frame and down the small hall that lead to your tiny living room. you could hear the person rattling through your pots and pans.

you stood behind the corner, telling yourself it'd be fine.

you can do it. just go and ask what's going on. you're sure this is probably just some huge mix up.

"hah!" you huffed as you turn the corner and toss the heavy book at the person.

they immediately turn around and catch the flying pages. your heart drops to your stomach. your only weapon failed.

"y/n? i didn't know you were home!"

your heart manages to repair itself in your chest as the voice and face process in your mind. "peter?" you practically shriek. "what are you doing here?" a breath (that you were fully aware you had been holding) left your lungs, your hands finding their way to cover your face from the stress.

"i-i-i didn't know you'd be home, i'm sorry,"

"so you sneak into my apartment when i'm not home?" the glare you sent him reminded him how snappy you get when you're upset.

"no, no, no, no, no-!"

your questioning glare had him pause his denial.

"well, yes,"

you groaned.

"but listen!"

"i don't want to listen to you when you just broke into my house, peter!"

"well, the door was open-,"

another groan.

"okay, yeah, i can...see...that..."

"leave, peter!"

"wait, wait, wait! okay, listen," he took a deep breath. "i can explain myself-,"

"which part: when you forgot about me constantly or when you broke into my house?"

"all of it! i can explain and i just want you to know that i haven't been telling you for your own safety."

"what the fuck are you talking about?"

"just-just come with me."

"where?"

"it's a surprise!" his apologetic smile willed you to trust him.

you stared at him. his waves framed his face - his hair seemed to grow a lot in the last two weeks. his eyes were a whirlpool that sucked you in.

"jesus, peter." you shook your head, but found some shoes and a jacket to slip on anyway. the bright smile on peter's face made you want to forget about everything.

you followed him down the stairs to the quiet, three in the morning college town streets on a tuesday.

"how far away is it?" you asked. your eyes followed a plane as it blinked through the sky.

"kind of far," he moved in front of you to block your path. "but," he sung his vowel. "i know a quicker way to get there!"

"do we need to take the subway-?" you looked around, only for peter to wrap an arm around your waist. "what-?"

"it's going to be a little scary but you gotta trust me."

"what are you doing, pete?"

"you gotta hold on okay?" he guided your arms around his neck. "trust me, okay?" his sweet enchanting smile encouraged you to trust him despite everything. that didn't stop the groove between your brows from forming, though.

"what-?"

and you were in the air. screaming, obviously. you could hear his reassurance and apologies, willing you to keep holding on.

after several minutes of being in the air and coming to the consensus that you wouldn't fall even if you tried with peter's death grip on you, you took a glance around at your setting.

the street was far below you. cars and lights from down below smiled up and laughed at your fear. apartments on the thirtieth floors were eye level but passed so fast that you couldn't see who resided in them.

"isn't it nice?" peter whispered. he was your only lifeline; the only thing keeping you from falling to your death. "it's so peaceful up here." his quiet words didn't calm your racing heart or sooth your stressed features, but it brought you to stay present until your feet hit the solid ground again.

your legs shook you until your knees met the surface you stood on.

"sorry-,"

"what was that, parker?" you sparse breath made your voice come out as merely a squeak but peter knew all too well that you would be screaming at the top of your lungs if you could.

"it- well- i- uhm," the wind helped you push yourself off of your knees and back to sitting like a normal person rather than someone who thought their feet wouldn't ever touch the ground again. "i'm not really sure how to say this i-i-,"

"peter, i swear to god-,"

"i'm spider-man!" you looked up at his avoiding eyes that were as wide as yours. as if he couldn't believe he actually said that.

"excuse me?" you said after several moments of silence passed.

"i-i'm spider-man," his quiet voice was nearly drowned out by the blowing wind.

you laughed.

his eye brows came together in frustration. "why are you laughing?"

"you're not spider-man."

"i just swung us to the top of central park tower and you're going to deny that i'm spider-man?"

your smile slowly faded as you noticed where you were. that he was right. you were among the stars, the moon within inches of your fingers. the street glowed up at you, laughing once more. the usual honking screams from the cars could not be heard from how high you were. all you could hear was the growl of the wind and peter's shy voice.

"oh my god,"

"no-no, don't freak out!"

"i'm not freaking out, i never freak out. you're just spider-man and that's a thing and we're on top of the central park tower and i could totally fall right now but i'm not freaking out."

you were freaking out.

"doesn't spider-man have webs or something?"

peter stuck out his hand, and a white web came tumbling out after your hand that rested on the ground you still sat on. he tugged at the string that stuck itself to your hand and pulled you up with it. you stumbled into him, his hands steadying your shaking.

"that's insane."

"i know, and i'm so sorry. between juggling school and work and this, it's really difficult to keep track of everything. this doesn't have a schedule and gets in the way of you a lot more than i'd like it to."

"i-i guess i get why you didn't tell me."

a breath left through peter's lips. "i-i put together this as an apology, though." he motioned behind you to yet another thing you didn't notice throughout the stress of it all.

a blanket laid out with food from your favorite take out place scattered all over it. small electric candles flickered around the setting providing as the only light that wasn't coming from the city down below along with his laptop that was glowing and set up to browse through netflix for something to watch.

"i'm really sorry. i'm sorry i'm never there. i'm sorry it's taken me so long to see you again. i'm most of all sorry that i can't change it."

your eyes met his once again.

"if how i am is too much for you, i completely understand. you deserve someone who will treat you as good as you deserve and who will show up. but i want you to know that i miss you, and love you, and i will keep trying so hard to show up."

"you love me?"

"i-i-," peter's sure eyes suddenly fell to the floor and his hands found the back of his neck. "i mean, yeah," he stuttered. "but like it's okay, like, i get it, you know? i don't-,"

all the fears of being at the top of the central park tower and dating spider-man and what it means to date spider-man left you mind. all you could think about was how much you really did love peter despite his absent habits. maybe even more so now that you knew this huge secret and what that secret told about him as a person.

so you kissed him.

the heavenly feeling of his lips was something you didn't know you missed as much as you did. as soon as your lips met, tears pricked themselves at your eyes but you refused to let them fall.

you were okay.

peter was okay.

you were both okay.

it was all okay.

⭒ taglist ⭒

@fadedver @1ischai @djmalik52 @garlicforthewin @cryinked @armand0alg0 @softboi14

please dm me if you would like to be taken off of the taglist

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sunshowne · 1 year ago

Text

can i stand in your light, just for a while?

gojo satoru x gn reader || 1.5k || ao3

summary: pancakes pair well with facing feelings surrounding the best friend who left you and the best friend you're in love with. warnings: hidden inventory/jjk s2 spoilers, littol bit of angst note: it's me the sunshown from ao3... tumblr time

You wake up to a plastic bag heavy on your chest and the heady smell of honey.

Then it’s Tsumiki’s laughter, bright and filling up the apartment. The slight feeling of discomposure ends there; last night was movie night, and it ran late enough that the last train had left for the night. You slept on the couch. One of the kids got you a blanket at some point.

You’re expecting to see Tsumiki and Megumi sat at the kitchen island - quietly eating breakfast together and waiting on a gentle chiding for leaving the house to get breakfast without waking you - when you carefully sit up, bag moving to your lap, and see an empty kitchen. You blink. Two hands slip over your eyes.

It’s a reflex to grab at the wrist, grip not too tight, but you know who it is even before he leans in and presses you up against his front. Any person with a hint of cursed energy would be able to feel Gojo Satoru from a mile away, but you have the added help of the familiarity of his hands, the scent of his body wash. For better or for worse.

“Shoko?” You make your voice as hopeful as you can muster.

You can all but see Satoru’s scowl. As punishment, he lets go of you in favor of folding over you like his bones have been turned viscous.

“Good morning,” your voice quiets, and Satoru presses his nose against your temple. “How long have you been here?”

“Since five in the morning. Someone had to make sure you were still alive.”

You crane your neck a little to look him in the eye, and his hands hook together over your shoulders. It’s hard to look serious with sleep still in your eyes. “I told Yaga-sensei that I was spending the night at the apartment.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

There’s something in his voice that he won’t say but you can hear, and it hits you with a wave of guilt. The past year has been hard. And maybe it’s a little unfair of you to take a night off from it all to watch Whisper of the Heart with the kids.

(Someone has to, though, you remind yourself. Satoru doesn’t mean to guilt trip. You’re just prone to it.)

You realize that the thing you hear in Satoru’s voice is worry. It’s very rare to make one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers worried, and yet.

Satoru snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Stop thinking. I got you pancakes.”

You gently push him off of you, stand up. It’s then that you see the kotatsu set up behind you, where both Megumi and Tsumiki sit with their breakfast and bed head. Tsumiki gratefully accepts your morning hug and Megumi takes it with a little more apprehension, but still looks pleased when you pick the spot next to him. Satoru’s making you a plate, which surprises you a little; the feeling abates when you see him move one of your pancakes to his empty plate.

“Hey,” he says once you’ve settled, voice a little petulant, and prods his cheek. It’s a weird place to have food, especially considering you haven’t started eating, but you swipe your thumb across your cheekbone nonetheless. There’s nothing there.

“What?”

Satoru pouts. You frown. Tsumiki giggles, and it hits you.

“You’re not getting a kiss, Satoru.”

“Awh. Why?”

His question cuts you off halfway through cutting a slice of pancake. It’s stupid that he even needs to ask, so in response, you look at Megumi and Tsumiki before turning back to Satoru.

“You’re too modest.”

The other day, Satoru had told you that Megumi and Tsumiki’s affinity for you makes him feel bullied. You’d half-heartedly assured him that that wasn't the case, but now you’re thinking otherwise with the speed that Megumi retorts with, “You’re too clingy.”

“You’re too rude.”

You make eye contact with Tsumiki from across the kotatsu. She shoves a spoonful of rice in her mouth to muffle a laugh. The verbal sparring ends a few minutes later when Satoru calls Megumi stinky and doesn’t get dignified with a response. Breakfast goes on in amicable silence.

You’re moving through the day in your head as you finish eating, and carry your plate into the kitchen. Megumi and Tsumiki pad behind you not soon after, dutifully putting their dishes by the sink and retreating to the couch to see what’s on the television. You start on the dishes. Maybe someone will go grocery shopping with you when you’re done.

Satoru is silent when he enters the room, but you can feel him. First it’s him, and then it’s his arms, looping around your waist, tucking him into your body. This isn’t unusual - Megumi was kind in calling him clingy - but there’s still something in how he hides in you, wants to kiss in front of the kids, gets you breakfast at five A.M. because you hadn’t told him you were spending the night at the apartment.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. About waking up one morning and Satoru being gone. About seeing him after coming back from a mission, smiling and holding you by a public telephone. About his eyes, forever ingrained in the forefront of your mind, right beside Suguru’s. It would hurt more than his leaving did. The thought makes you feel a little awful.

“Look at me.”

You had stopped washing the dishes. Satoru’s voice is clear, a little quiet. Your hands are soapy but you turn around anyways, so that the edge of the counter digs uncomfortably into your backside.

Satoru’s eyes are piercing. They always are, but right now they’re reading your mind. It’s scary and raw and makes you vulnerable all over but you let him, rest your forearms on his shoulders and let your hands drip onto his back and soothe his worries with drying fingers brushing over his temple and fixing his hair and rubbing circles into the base of his neck - it’s okay I’m here I’m here I’m here.

Satoru drops his head to your shoulder and you hold him. He’s leaning into you, enough that you’re bent a little backwards over the sink, but any acknowledgement of the discomfort fades when you feel Satoru’s shuddering breath into your skin, the way he shivers when you place a hand in his hair.

You don’t realize you’re crying until tears fall and spread on the back of Satoru’s shirt. He tenses, pulls away from you but keeps you close and swipes his thumbs under your eyes a little roughly.

“Don’t cry over him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

It’s easy to say, and a part of you deep down feels it violently. You’re angry and so, so sad. Suguru became someone you hate and some days, you miss him so much you can’t move. It’s messy. It’s conflicting. But you have Satoru and Shoko and Tsumiki and Megumi and Utahime and and and, which is so lucky in of itself.

Satoru wraps you up back into his cocoon. You let him without shedding another tear, and stay like that for a while. Days are like this, with ups and downs. They will be, for a while, with any hope. Jujutsu sorcerers are all but trained in repression, and if you can manage to do one thing, you want to undo some of that for The Strongest. Because here in your arms Satoru’s not that, he’s eighteen and your best friend and the person you love most. It speaks to your own emotional density that you can’t imagine a world in which you ever tell him that.

Instead, you settle. You urge Satoru away, gently, and don’t let him register what you’re doing before leaning in and kissing the space beneath his right eye. You’re not sure you have time to process it, either, but before you know it you’re pulling away and Satoru’s grabbing at you to bring you back in for another. His lips are on yours and all over you and this is what has been missing, this might not be what you need right now but it’s what you want more than anything, so you kiss him back and hold him tighter and let him push you further over the sink. It’s your first kiss, your second, third, fourth. He’s the air in your lungs, enough that you pull away eventually with a gasp.

His eyes are shining, so you grab his face and brush away unshed tears with the same ardent affection he did for you. It’s fruitless - you’re sure Satoru would die before crying in front of you - but right now you’re feeling everything and will touch him how you can.

Satoru places a hand on the back of your neck to pull you in, rest his forehead against yours. His thumb smoothes over your hair. He’s handsome beyond belief- not that you’d ever tell him.

“It’s you and me,” his voice is slow and sure, “and if you’re going to cry over someone it’s going to be me, okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, sort of a laugh, sort of a sob, “you and me.”

He kisses you again, then, the seal of a promise pressed into your lips. Leans into you as much as you lean into him.

For what feels like the first time in a while, you smile.

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #writing tag

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atherix · 2 years ago

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fldhksdhalkdfhga I TOLD YOU I WAS GONNA SCREAM IN THE MORNING HERE I AM IM SCREAMING AHHHHHHHHH

First of all the explanation non-explanation for how scar made his glyphs is SO cool the WORLDBUILDING my GOD also him giving Tubbo the bee????? and the reason tubbo is the bee???????? someone let him be a beekeeper plz and thx

ALSO GEM IS SO FREAKY BUT IN A POSITIVE WAY AND I LOVE HER. God forbid women do anything [~~they scry into their friends' futures am i right~~] BUT HER BEING THE ONE WHO BROUGHT THE ADOPTION PAPERS BY IS SO!!!

I LOVE HER THOUGH BC HERES THIS LIKE MYSTERIOUS ORACLEY WOMAN AND ALSO SHE FUMBLED HER STAFF!!!! GEM!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHH 'Oh so you havent met him yet' GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM

So many ways this can be taken. So many - like i assume shes talking about Grian bc Grian forcing his hand into scars life sort of shapes everything BUT!!! SHE COULD ALSO BE TALKING ABOUT MUMBO BECAUSE DECIDING TO SHOVE MUMBO AWAY IS ALSO SOMETHING THAT SHAPES SCARS LIFE IM!!!! I AM SO FULL OF IDEAS

T H E B I R D G L Y P H - IS THE BIRD GLYPH GRIAN. IS GRIAN THE BIRD. I AM!!!!!! IS THE FUCKING GLYPH ON GRIANS HAND THE BIRD GLYPH I AM LOSING MY MIND I AM SO!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ESPECIALLY SINCE IVE GOTTEN A GLIMPSE AT SOME OTHER DOCUMENTS [Im quiet. I'm normal about it] I AM SCREAMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM ON MY KNEES AND I AM SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS!!!!!!

And oh my GOD Tubbo is so cute im sdaglkdhfkl i love this little break to get to see how cute tubbo is it is making me lose my MIND but i am ALSO LOSING MY MIND OVER THE BIRD THING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I AM FINALLY ANSWERING HJKFSHJDSJKFS AAAAAA

Worldbuilding my beloved <3 Also fun magic stuff <3 HAHA if Tubbo wasn't so determined to run Scar's shop one day he would absolutely become a beekeeper <3 He might become one anyway :) I say as if I haven't shown you a certain spoiler :))

I WANTED HER TO BE ENERGETIC BUT CRYPTIC I AM HOPEFUL IT GOT ACROSS <3 There are exactly TWO people in this world who can take Scar for an absolute loop and both of their names start with G LMAO- I wonder just howwww muchhh influence Gem, an energetic and strong Sorcerer who breaks the laws of life itself, has had over the story at large.... And all from the background, too... :)

HAHA hm hm yes I wonder who she was talking about.... they both shaped the direction of Scar's life after all <3 How much does this mad Sorcerer know-

HM HM HM HM HMMMMMM I WONDER. I mean.... isn't it... suspicious.... that Scar had a glyph...... just READY...... even tho he didn't go to Mumbo's house expecting to give a glyph to anyone........ that he puts so much work and time into these glyphs, inking them SPECIFICALLY for the people he makes them for...... each one unique and carefully constructed from each other...... and he just has one READY hm hmm? :) HJKFSJLFSJK WHEN YOU KNOW THINGS ABOUT THE STORY THAT NO ONE ELSE DOES HJKJKDHJ

I am in love with littol Tubbo and dad Scar and other than important background info that becomes important later on this fic has absolutely been an excuse to write Dad!Scar fluff <3 Oh. Also an excuse to write out Scar singing the lullaby. I wonder what that missing line was, hm. :)

THE BIRD THING will HAUNT YOU NOW <3

#ask #Midnight Series

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rattyships · 5 years ago

Text

littol captain magnum drabble

The wind whistled outside as you tossed and turned in your bunk. It was a cold, breezy night on the choppy seas and you were having trouble sleeping. There was a blanket wrapped over your shoulders down to your feet, but it just wasn’t enough to evade the cold and you were shivering slightly. You decided you were gonna have to find some other kind of heat source.

You hopped out of your bunk with the blanket still over your shoulders. Quiet as to not disturb your crewmates, you slipped on your boots and shuffled out the dorms and over to the Captain’s quarters. You realised this might be a risky move, but you felt like Magnum cared about you enough to hear you out. You approached the tall, worn oak door and stared up at the small sign that read ‘Captain’s Quarter’s’, and chuckled as you saw the smiley face you’d previously drawn on it. You slowly removed your arm from the blanket’s ptotection and knocked a little tune, “C-Captain? May I please come in?”. You silently cursed yourself for sounding so meek, but the cold was really getting to you.

There was silence for a few seconds, and you began to think that he’s already asleep. However his voice soon appeared, “Come on in, matey.” You turned the cold metal handle and pushed opened the large door. You winced a little as it let out a long, painful squeak as you let yourself in. The Captain was sitting hunched over at his desk, his large coat hanging over the back of his chair. He was writing with an ink and quill, his parchment illuminated by the small glow of a candle. His tricorne hat lay on the desk just past his writing. Overall, the atmosphere was so much cosier than the cold chill of the crews dorms. Not looking up from his writing he asked, “what seems to be the matter, precious?”.

You grinned to yourself at the name, glad he wasn’t paying attention. “Apologies for disturbing you so late, captain. It’s a very cold night and i’ve had trouble settling down and sleeping. If... if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to stay with you for a little bit” you asked sheepishly.

You looked up at him for a response and he’d turned to face you as you’d been talking. His expression was a mix of smugness but there was also concern in his eyes. “Of course ye can matey.” He responded softly, and you smiled and made your way further into the room. The candlelight calmed your nerves and you let out a deep sigh. You decided to lean against Captain Magnum’s back, your head just about reaching the nape of his neck. His body was so warm, and you reflexively pressed your face into him, feeling his hair tickle your nose a little bit. As you leant there you noticed your body begin to relax - you hadn’t even realised you were still shivering. You felt his neck turn slightly toward your face, and his free hand wrapped round to give the top of your head a scratch. You immediately melted into his touch and let out another small sigh.

After a few minutes you finally felt warm again. You rolled over so your head was perched on his shoulder. “How come you’re staying up so late?”

His voice was soft and cosy, it was a change of pace compared the shouting that he used when on deck. “I’m just writing out a letter that I need to deliver next time we return to the mainland. The wording’s just vexing me a little”. He placed the quill down and put a cork in the ink, “I think I’ve finished up nows though”. He went to move and you stepped back a little, allowing him to stretch his arms straight up with a groan. You tried not to stare at the way his shirt moved along with his back muscles. He turned his chair round, fully facing you now. “Hows ye doing now? Warmed up?” he asked softly with a smile (which was hard to detect through his beard hairs).

You did feel a lot better, but you dreaded the thought of going back to the crew’s room now. The grip on your blanket tightened - you decided to push your luck a little bit. “I’m feeling a lot better but... I’d still like to stay here with you if you don’t mind”.

The captain let out a small chuckle. “Of course ye can”. He got up from his chair and moved towards you. He effortlessly scooped you up from the waist in one arm, and moved to his bed on the other side of the dark wooden room. He placed you down so you were sitting on the edge, and you slipped your boots off as you watched him get comfortable. “Ye can stay here tonight if it’ll make ye happy”.

You grinned and nodded your head, your eyes starting to get heavy with sleep. As Magnum lay down you leant against him once again. With the both of your blankets and the warmth from the captain, you found yourself easily drifting off. As you were falling into the grasps of sleep, you felt his hand gently move through your hair once more. Hopefully the crew won't question why you came out the captain's quarters next morning.

#im soft #its real pirate hours #a heist with markiplier #captain magnum #captain magnum x reader #his voice is so hard to write asdfgh

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