When Youre Inebriated And Dont Recognize Them Gyomei, Kyojuro, Sanemi, Giyuu

when you’re inebriated and don’t recognize them — gyomei, kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Author’s Note: a lil lighthearted (+hopefully humorous) fluff for tn. 🥰

when you’re inebriated and don’t recognize them — gyomei, kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Himejima Gyomei x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~1,400

CW: alcohol, explicit language

Suggestion Fulfilled: how do you think the hashira will react when you're clearly drunk and they want to help you, but you push the away, clearly not recognizing them, and then you say something along the lines of, " No I have a S/o, don't touch me”

~faqs~

“Don’t touch me! You! Gigantic! Oaf!”

*big sigh* 🥲

Smiling gently to himself, Gyomei takes another slow step forward

Thank goodness we’re home he thinks to himself, well aware of how this current situation would appear to unknowing onlookers 🙃 

“I’ll bite you!” 😤

Newsflash: slapping at his outstretched hands is doing next to nothing 🥴

The man is a wall 🧱

“Please,” he tries again, “Let me help you.”

You huff, eyes rolling, “I don’t need help.”

“Your shoes are still on, as is your coat, and you’re heading in the opposite direction of the bedroom.” 🤨

Somehow, the calmness of his voice riles you even further 😒

“How do you know?” you scoff, “Maybe I’m taking the long way around.” 🙄

“Love, I live here,” he can’t help the fond exasperation creeping into his tone, “I live here with you.”

“No,” you snort, “You wish you lived here with me, but that honor belongs to my amaaazing boyfriend.” 😌

“And where might he be?” Gyomei asks politely

“He-” your eyes narrow, confusion clouding your vision as you frown slightly, “I’m not sure.” 😖

“Well how about you call him?”

Glaring at the looming (actually, Gyomei is standing quite casually and relaxed) man in front of you, you tug your phone out of your pocket

“Hey Siri, call The Love of my Life.”

Interesting Gyomei’s heart flutters —> you’ve never actually showed him his contact info

—Fortunately for you, he’s too much of a sweetheart to ever hold this secret against you

—What happens when you’re drunk, stays with when you were drunk 😉

“NO WAY!” you exclaim as his phone begins ringing, “YOU’RE HIM?!” 😳🤯😭

“Yes, love,” Gyomei chuckles tiredly, “I’m him.”

“I’m sooooo sorry,” you whimper, suddenly falling willingly and clingy into his arms, whining now as you pout up at him, “I’m going to have the worst hangover eeeverrr,” gasping dramatically, “Gyyyomeeeei!!!!!”

“As flattered as I am by your interest, I have a boyfriend,” you say, politely brushing off the warm hands of the stranger attempting to help you as you sit haunched on a bench 😮‍💨

Aforementioned stranger’s brow furrows, mouth pursing before stretching into a bright grin, laughter ringing through your ears 🤗

The hell is this guy on? 🧐

“I promise your boyfriend would be okay with me helping you,” Kyojuro chuckles, arms crossed as he watches you carefully 

“Oh yeah?” you mutter, hiding your confusion beneath a cool tone, “What’s his name then?”

“Rengoku Kyojuro!” he immediately answers, still grinning, “Not many people look like him…” ❤️‍🔥

Your face crinkles as you take in the man’s appearance once more, eventually shaking your head as you huff

“Nice try,” you smirk, “But if I was really drunk, then my Kyojuro wouldn’t think twice about getting me home, no matter how difficult I was being.” 😌

*cue a particularly fond memory of Kyojuro carrying you all the way home from the bar when you refused to get in a cab but didn’t want to walk and definitely wasn’t sober enough to sit on the handlebars of a bicycle* 😝

Kyojuro blames the blossoming warmth in his stomach at your my Kyojuro for his next actions

Aka scooping you into his arms and hoping his cologne does the trick 😅

(it usually does — he assumes his sweatshirts go missing for this exact reason 🫢)

“PUT ME DOW- 🤬 BAAABYYY! 😍” you squeal as soon as his sweaty, familiar scent hits your nose, “You do love meee!!!!!”

“I absolutely do,” he murmurs adoringly, unfazed by your sudden switch in demeanor, “After all, your Kyojuro always gets you home, right?” 🥺

“Right!” you beam up at him, your hostility all but dissipated as you nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, “M’gonna sleep now, ‘kay?” 🥱

Kyojuro thinks about how long the walk home is, flexes his forearms, and smiles 🥰

“Of course. Sweet dreams, my heart.” 😴

Send help pls and ty 🙃

This man is at his wit’s end

On one hand, you’re refusing to Uber home with him 😕

On the other hand, he can’t just leave you at the bar 😒

And the last thing he wants is to order two separate rides home, and then have to patiently explain that he isn’t stalking you, nor is he breaking in, because 

“For fuck’s sake, I’m literally your boyfriend!” 😐

“My boyfriend would never speak to me like that!” you retort, eyes narrowed 😠

Actually Sanemi thinks wryly to himself Your boyfriend doesn’t know how to speak in any other way

“Because your boyfriend’s so damn perfect?” he growls, “Doesn’t ever cuss or lose his patience?”

“Well,” you begin pertly, “He is perfect! He brings me breakfast in bed, holds open doors for me, mends the holes in my socks, washes my back when we shower together…” ☺️

Sanemi is very pink rn 😃

He’s torn between wanting to kiss you square on the mouth and never doing a nice thing for you ever again 🫠

“... but he,” you trail off, tears abruptly brimming as you come to a startling realization, “But he’s so ruuude,” wailing as Sanemi simply watches you unfold, “He teases me whenever I stub my toe on something, pushes me off the bed when we wrestle, and, and, and-”

“And what?” he asks dryly

You gulp, refusing to meet the gaze of the handsome, persistent man still standing in front of you — despite your resolute rejections of him, “I think you might actually be my boyfriend.” 😭

He actually laughs, arms opening as you barrel into him, sobbing into his embrace, thin olive shirt sticking to his skin as you squeeze his sides

“Sanemi,” you whisper, embarrassment coating your voice

“Mmm, darling?” his own rich with amusement

“I want to go home,” you mumble 😔

“You sure?” he smirks fondly, “Even with me?”

Groaning loudly, you press your face harder into his chest, eyes closing as you focus on the steady warmth of his heartbeat 💓

Dismay might as well be Giyuu’s middle name

Because he has no idea how he’s going to get you home 😓

Shinobu abandoned you guys earlier, flitting from one bar to the next

And for the sake of his dwindling dignity and pride, Giyuu is not about to interrupt Tengen and his wives at their table to ask for ~assistance 😬

Kyojuro would be an option, if he wasn’t the lightest weight of all, and already home in bed (he left over an hour ago) 🙃

Shit

“Hey,” he waves at you, heart in his throat

“Hey yourself,” you glance up at him, frowning, “I told you like five minutes ago, I. Have. A. Boyfriend.” 😒

The urge to curl up into a ball and cry has never been stronger 😃

For Giyuu, that is 😭

“I know, I know,” he holds his hands up in a careful surrender, awkwardness in his movements as he ponders his next words, “I just… I think you should go home.”

“As in, go home with you?” 🤨

“Uh…” yes 😞

“Look, you’re super attractive and all, but you’re not my boyfriend.” 🙄

Giyuu is hitting his forehead against a brick wall 😵

Repeatedly 😵

Internally, ofc 💀

“What if I was?” he winces as his voice cracks at the end 🥲

Damn it 🫠

“Well that would mean breaking up with my boyfriend…”

He’s staring at you equally exasperated and in love 😖🥰

All you process, unfortunately, is deadpan 😐

“Speaking of which, where is he?” you mutter 😕

I! AM! RIGHT! HERE! 🫨

Giyuu is still hitting his forehead against a brick wall

+screaming every time he makes contact

Internally, ofc

“Can I at least give you my number?” 🥺

“How about this,”  you snap, “You find my boyfriend for me, and ask him if that’s okay.”

Regret isn’t an option as Giyuu immediately spins in a circle, striking a Tada! Pose when he faces you again 😎

🧐🧐🧐 <— you rn

“It’s me, your boyfriend. Tomioka Giyuu.” 🥳

You blink

He holds his breath

“Y’know what,” you finally say, “I believe you.”

Giyuu doesn’t bother digging for details

He grabs your hand (and exhales when you promptly intertwine your fingers with his, hugging his forearm to your chest 💞), and heads toward the exit

—

“Why did that convince you?” he asks the next morning, breath soft on your skin as he sprinkles soothing kisses across your forehead

You smile slyly—despite your pulsating headache—all four limbs squeezing tighter around his body to keep him in place as you murmur quietly, “Because only my boyfriend could make me cringe that hard.” 😌

“Heyyyyy,” he whines, pouting as he squirms in your embrace, exchanging his kisses for gentle bites as you shriek playfully, “That’s not very nice.” ☹️

pinky promises.

✿ genre + t/w: sfw, fluff, if you squint there might be angst + one period comment

✿ wc: 2.3k words

✿ tags: boyfriend!gojo, satoru gojo x fem!oc, child megumi fushiguro x guardian fem!reader, adopted kiddos!megumi&tsumiki

✿ synopsis: it's been two weeks since learn to love, and megumi still hasn't opened up to oc gojo girlfriend or satoru yet. so oc gojo girlfriend decides to teach him something about promises.

✿ a/n: i have a soft spot for gojo being megumi's guardian. oc gojo girlfriend is trying so hard, little does she know, megumi actually really loves her already, he's just too shy to show it. also, oc gojo girlfriend comes from a big shot sorcerer family, and she has an older brother named touya (specifically because i love touya kinomoto from cardcaptor sakura) who is also a powerful jujutsu sorcerer. geto and the others make a tiny appearance!!! not proofread.

✿ reminder: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, please do! don't feel like you have to follow the oc gojo girlfriend's green eyes and long black hair.

it was dinner time at the dining hall for all the tokyo jujutsu high school students. while the men were cooking dinner (and by men, that meant all the men were watching nanami cook dinner), you and shoko spoke about the recent gossip that spread like wildfire across campus: you and satoru gojo becoming parents.

“so, gojo brought these kids to your room and basically said that he’s taking them in?” shoko repeated. 

“yeah, crazy right? as of two weeks ago, i'm a mother.” you said as you watched megumi and tsumiki in the corner of the kitchen, they were coloring with crayons.

“do you really think that you and gojo can be parental figures in their lives?” she questioned as you were still gazing over at them.

“satoru seems to think so. i didn’t think he’d make me a teen mom.” you joked.

as you watched the two young fushiguros, you wondered if you would be good enough to give them parental advice as they grow up in yours and satoru’s care. could satoru really raise megumi to be a jujutsu sorcerer? everyone knew that satoru gojo was the strongest, but could he raise a jujutsu sorcerer even if he wasn’t fully trained himself? satoru was still working on perfecting his own techniques like his long distance teleportation and his domain expansion. only you were second to him in laying out your domains.

who would give the birds and the bees talk to megumi? and who would be there for tsumiki when she starts to mature? when she gets her first period? that would be up to you to teach her about puberty and becoming a woman. god, satoru gojo couldn’t even talk about the reproductive system without giggling.

***********************************

“how does (y/n) feel about you taking the kids in?” suguru asked as he and satoru watched nanami flip over gyozas in the pan. 

“she didn’t take me seriously at first.” satoru replied to him. his mouth watering at the sight of the crispy gyozas. the oil in the pan danced along with the sitting gyozas.

“i mean... have you seen yourself? we can’t even take you seriously.”  nanami retorted.

satoru frowned, “thanks nanami...”

“(y/n) is kind. she would do anything to help.” haibara put in his two cents. he was a big fan of yours, it was because you were so nice to him and nanami when they joined jujutsu high. you were the one to show them around campus on their first day.

“haibara is right, (y/n) is the best. satoru is lucky to have her. i don’t know how she deals with him.” suguru laughed as he put his arm around satoru's shoulder, teasing him.

“she said she’d help, but that’s after i begged.” satoru grumbled. he hated to admit that he had to beg.

“you? beg?” nanami snorted. he flipped the last of the gyozas and put them on the shared plate. he turned back to the stove and stirred the soup that was boiling away.

“i told her the circumstances, it was up to her ultimately. i could've raised them myself.” satoru folded his arms in defense. he looked over at you and shoko and saw that you were watching the kids too.

***********************************

you and shoko got up to walk over to where megumi and tsumiki were coloring. “megumi? tsumiki?” you called their names. megumi continued to color and tsumiki looked over at you obediently. her smile could blind a country. she was such a happy child despite her situation.

“kids, this is shoko ieiri. she’s a second year like me and satoru. she’s studying to be a doctor, so if you guys get hurt, you’ll see shoko, okay?”

“hi kids.” shoko waved to the children. she was able to hold a steady conversation with tsumiki, but megumi continued to color and color and color. he didn’t pay anyone any mind.

“dinner’s ready!” haibara called out. 

“come on, let’s eat.” shoko grabbed tsumiki’s hand and guided her to the dining table. you were about to leave with them, but saw that megumi didn’t get up from the little table to join everyone.

“megumi, are you hungry?” you crouched down to ask him. he ignored you, like he had been doing for the past two weeks. you folded your arms in discontentment. how were you going to get through to this kid? his walls were up and you didn’t know how to bring them down. how could you let megumi know that you were there for him?

“megumi! let’s eat dinner!” tsumiki called out to him, but he just brushed her off. 

“i'm not hungry.” he said quietly.

“it’s okay, shoko, tsumiki, go ahead.” you shoo’d them away. you stood back up and let megumi color in peace. you made eye contact with satoru and frowned in defeat. you were worried about megumi. these past two weeks have been hard on you because you tried everything you could to get through to him, to build a relationship with him. as you sat at the dining table with everyone, you couldn’t work up an appetite. you poked at your gyoza and sipped at your soup.

“you not hungry, babe?” satoru asked, putting his arm around your shoulder as you softly sighed, he free hand rubbing your thigh. 

“not really. i'm worried about megumi. something seems to be bothering him.” satoru squeezed your hand and both of you looked over at megumi. he was still coloring. you saw him look over at the table a couple of times when tsumiki started to laugh while talking to shoko and haibara. 

you got up from the dining table as satoru’s arm fell from your shoulder to the back of your now empty chair. he watched you while you grabbed a small bowl of soup and a couple pieces of gyoza. you made your way back to the table where megumi was coloring.

“hi megumi, i brought you some food.” you greeted him. 

“i said i wasn't hungry.” megumi repeated himself again, avoiding all eye contact with you. 

“well, you haven’t eaten since breakfast, you must be hungry.” you frowned at him. 

“no, i'm not.” did you just hear some sass in his tone? you squinted at him.

“well, i'm not leaving until you eat your food.” you quipped back at him. if megumi fushiguro wanted to have a stubborn competition, he was going to have a stubborn competition. and you were the reigning queen of this (satoru would know).

you watched him color. he was drawing two dogs, a white one and a black one. you remembered your older brother, touya, teaching you about the zen’nin clan and the ten shadows technique. the first shikigami a ten shadows technique user could summon were the demon dogs. was megumi already seeing his shikigami?

“are those your dogs?” you asked him as you pointed at his drawing. of course, he just ignored you. “are they the demon dogs?” you digged deeper.

megumi stopped coloring and looked up at you, “what do you know about the demon dogs?”

“well, i know that it’s the first shikigami a ten shadows technique user can summon. they are used for many different things like tracking, fighting, or just being there by your side to keep you company.” you told him. megumi put down his crayons. it seems like you piqued his interest.

***********************************

“hmmm, it looks like she got the kid to stop coloring.” satoru announced, looking over at the table as he watched you and megumi. he felt a weird feeling inside. it was warm and fuzzy. his heart swelled watching you with megumi.

all the second years and first years looked over at the table to watch you and megumi as well.

***********************************

“can you tell me about the ten shadows?” megumi asked you quietly. 

“only if you eat your dinner.” you made him a deal, it was up to him to take it or not. megumi furrowed his brows as he slowly reached for the pair of chopsticks to pick up a piece of gyoza. you felt that you could continue telling him what you knew now that he started to eat. 

“there’s a specific hand sign that you have to do in order to summon any of the shikigami.” you explained. 

“do you know the hand signs for the dogs?” megumi asked, chewing his food. 

you smiled softly. “i don’t, but i know who does.” 

“who?” 

“satoru gojo does.” 

“oh, the creepy guy with the white hair and sunglasses?” megumi’s comment made you laugh out loud. that was the first time someone called satoru gojo creepy.

“he does give you the creeps, huh? me too.” you joked with him. megumi cracked a smile. 

“oh, did i just get a smile from the megumi fushiguro?” you feigned with shock. megumi started to grin, but he contained himself and ate some more gyoza and sipped at his soup.

“megumi... i know your father and mother left you and tsumiki...” you started to say, but megumi interrupted you. 

“and? everyone always leaves in the end anyways.”

you blinked in shock at how straightforward this 5 year old boy could be. you actually weren’t even sure if he was 5 anymore with that last comment of his. 

“well, satoru and i won’t. we’ll always be there for you and tsumiki. i promise. and (y/n) (l/n) never breaks her promises.” you held out your pinky to megumi in hopes that he’ll pinky promise you back. 

“what are you doing?” megumi looked at you confused. 

“have you ever done a pinky promise before?” you asked him. megumi shook his head. he hadn’t. you explained the story of a pinky promise to him, “people make pinky promises so that they don’t break their promise. if you break your promise, you have to chop off your pinky.”

“you’re going to chop off your pinky if you break your promise to me and tsumiki?” megumi asked you with skepticism. he seems like he’s had one too many promises broken in his lifetime.

“yes, and satoru will too.” you answered back. satoru would understand if you spoke for him. he softly intertwined his pinky with yours and you kissed your thumb to seal the deal. megumi didn't follow you on the kiss back though. it was okay, you'll get him to do it next time.

“do you and that creep pinky promise on stuff too?” megumi wondered. 

you smiled at him, “all the time.”

“on what?”

“well, satoru pinky promised me that he will be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer so that he can protect me.” you told megumi. one day, satoru would have to tell him the story about megumi's own father and how satoru’s near-death fight with toji made him have an epiphany about his own powers.

you looked over at satoru. he was watching you and megumi. he waved when you made eye contact with him. you winked at him and he blew you a kiss. megumi’s eyes wandered to him as well.

“so he’s the strongest?” he asked with uncertainty. he couldn't believe that satoru gojo was the strongest. megumi thought he looked like a derp, especially with the lack of tact he had when he first approached him and tsumiki. why couldn't you have been the one to find them instead?

“yes, he is,” you smiled brightly at your man, “and he’ll be your sensei when you attend jujutsu high school.” you thought about the conversation you had with satoru about him becoming a teacher once he finishes his third year. would megumi be okay with him being the one to teach him how to handle cursed energy and how to fight?

“are you strong too, (y/n)?” megumi questioned you.

“i'm the second strongest,” you looked at him intently with a promise, “and i will protect you and tsumiki, just like satoru will.”

“why did he pinky promise that to you?” megumi changed the subject as he started to blush. he wondered why satoru promised to protect you if you could protect yourself. 

“well, megumi, satoru is something you call a boyfriend to me. he loves me. and, well, you protect the people you love.”

“he was talking about you when he picked us up. he said you were his girlfriend. is that the same thing as a boyfriend?” 

“yes it is,” you said laughing. kids were so damn cute with their comments, “you might be too young to understand, but maybe when you get bigger, you’ll find a someone you love and you can be a boyfriend too.”

megumi ended up finishing his food. (y/n) 1: megumi 0. you had won the stubborn competition. he took the empty soup bowl and put it in front of you.

“can i have more soup... please?”

EXTRA:

the kids were sleeping in your room as you spent the night in satoru’s dorm room. this was how it had been for the past two weeks.

you climbed into bed as your boyfriend watched you. you sat closely next to him. he was expecting you to tell him the juicy gossip of what happened at dinner with megumi. after giving him a brief run down, he sighed.

“so, megumi is already seeing his demon dogs?” you scratched at the back of his undercut and tilted your head at him. 

“yes, baby, and you’re gonna have to teach him how to use them. i told him you know the hand symbols.”

“that’s fine, we can do that. the demon dogs are loyal and loving according to my sources. they would be good to have by his side.” satoru closed his eyes and sighed in bliss, he loved when you scratched his undercut. you stopped scratching as he hugged you close. 

“satoru... are you going to tell megumi about his father?” you softly asked.

“you know, i tried telling him when i found him, but that little shit just cut me off. i told him that if he ever wanted to know about his dad, he can ask me any time.”

“you promise you’ll tell him the whole story?”

satoru intertwined his pinky with yours and kissed you firmly on the lips. 

“i pinky promise.”

---

Never Alone

Imagine

Being Metkayina and befriending kiri and later on telling her you also have a connection to eywa because you were found at see and no one knew who your parents were or how you got there and they said eywa saved you.

"Really you do, i-i thought I was the only one thank eywa I'm so glad"

---

I Just adore this with all my heart❤️

☆ 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗼 - ,, 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

summary: Satoru Gojo has been your best friend for the past 14 years. When he suddenly finds himself taking care of a kid, your relationship twists and turns into something far more romantic.

warnings: fem!reader , slow burn , mutual pining , angst , suggestive (nothing explicit but things are implied) , mentions of death , violent imagery , reader deals with a lot in this fic , gojo is sweet tho !! not proof-read word count: 15.8k (kill me now.) a/n: this fic has been in my drafts for a year now and it's honestly such a mess but i've written it and i'm happy with it (kind of) so the fact that it's such a jumble barely bothers me anymore !! special thanks to the glue song by beabadoobee for helping me through this

“I love you,” he says, lips curled into a pout that makes you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, sighing deeply, “No you don’t.”

“But I do!” and his voice gets louder, which only coaxes the already forming headache behind your eyes to grow. “So you should get your notes out for me.”

“What do you know about love anyway?”

It’s muttered just under your breath and you hope Gojo didn’t catch it, isn’t able to read into the bitterness laced along each word. You slam your laptop shut, standing up abruptly. Gojo follows suit.

“I’m not digging up my anthropology notes from two years ago just so you can cheat.”

His hopeful expression drops in an instant, hands flying forward to grab onto you, “No! Don’t you want me to pass? Don’t you love me?”

And what about you? What do you know about love?

You know that it’s difficult. There isn’t a need for any profound thinking, any nuance, for you to believe that. You know it’s true because you’ve lived it—because you are living it. You don’t have to have said “I love you,” once in your life, to know your way around the trials and tribulations that come with pesky emotions. (Emphasis on pesky emotions that call for intimacy.)

You know that love hurts. Perhaps, it’s the lack of control that makes love so painful. While beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, those who behold can’t choose who they wish to admire. It happens unexpectedly, like the changing tides: waves of emotion crashing down at once and pushing you off kilter. 

You know that love is uncertain, a gamble. It’s the lack of promise love can give. While you may love someone with everything you have, devote yourself to them, prioritize them—they might never see you as anyone other than a friend. Sometimes, you might be a best friend. Oftentimes, it’s never anything more than that.

And yet, love is such a beautiful thing. It bleeds warm, saccharine sweet like spoonfuls of honey, and fills you with the greatest happiness. Tingles at your fingertips where they touch, shivers down your spine when they stare, butterflies erupting in your stomach when they speak. Your skin growing warm and your smile stretched wide—that was the beauty of love.

But how can something so precious be so utterly disheartening? 

“No,” you roll your eyes, walking away from your best friend, unsurprised when he scrambles after you. “I don’t love you.”

You don’t mean it at all.

-: ✧ :-

You sigh a great deal in your life, but none of them compare to the way your chest heaves when you find yourself doing something you know you’ll regret. It’s never a shock that these regretful choices often accompany a certain white-haired man.

The pitch black darkness of your room is pierced by a beam of bright light from your phone screen, your tired eyes reading over the message once. Twice. Three times.

gojo 🤑: hey can i ask for a favor? pleaseeeeee?????? 🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏 im begging you 😫😫

You groan, tossing your phone to the side to run your hand down your face, letting your fingers catch on the soft skin around your eyes. Despite the many years you’ve known him, your hand still trembles as you type out your response, another sigh escaping your lips.

you: what the fuck is it now

The urge to slam your head into the nearest wall makes your neck twitch, the ghost of the movement lingering over your body. Why did you even bother asking?

gojo 🤑: i knew you’d say yes 😁 you just love me SO much come to my place tomorrow early too better be there before sunrise you:  i’m going to kill you for this one satoru 

Setting down your phone, you will yourself to close your eyes and forget about the man who’s been the cause for all your inner turmoil lately.

To be honest, he’s been the cause of your inner turmoil for the past year and a half, as pathetic as that may be. It’s not your fault he’s handsome, charming, funny, reliable—the list goes on. Sure, he can be slightly immature at times, and he often shies away from commitment, but who doesn’t have flaws, right?

You squeezed your eyes shut even harder, trying to clear your mind of all things Gojo.

The thing with love is that, at its worst, it can stay a secret for years and years to come. You can pine and yearn for someone so terribly, every fiber in your body craves them, and they would never know. You never have to tell them anything. That choice alone is what has put you in your recent predicament.

If life was black and white, perhaps you could have stopped being friends with him the moment you noticed the way your heart raced at the mere thought of him. But things don’t work like that and, frankly, you think Gojo would hunt you down if you even tried to cut him off.

You’ve tried to rid yourself of this 190cm lanky demon several times over the course of your life, however you’ve been unsuccessful every single time. When you met him 14 years ago, you didn’t think Satoru Gojo would become your best friend. In fact, you found him annoying, like a pesky mosquito that refused to leave you alone no matter how hard you swatted at him.

The two of you had your fair share of fights growing up, some lasting mere hours, others stretching on over the course of a couple days. Despite that, you both managed to make up and forgive each other no matter what. 

You had believed then, as a hurting teenager, that one of your more serious arguments would eventually drive you both apart. After all, the similarities between you both were few and far between. For some reason entirely unknown to you, your scathing words never pushed him away.

And now that it's been 14 years, you’ve grown too fond of him to be able to imagine a life without him. 

So, you’re forced to swallow back the way your feelings crawl to the back of your throat when you’re with him, resting at the tip of your tongue, because you know he’d never see you as anything more than a friend. 

Hell, it was obvious. The two of you have done everything you could possibly do as a couple: go on amusement park “dates”, spend hours in the arcade together. He’s even insisted on cuddling, changing in front of one another, sharing a bed. Yet, Gojo has never seemed to look at you any differently. 

And none of it ever bothered you either—until last year, when you saw him in a different light nearly overnight. In comparison to all else you had done with him, this was absolutely minuscule, but it's the reason Gojo takes up so much of your thoughts even now. 

You had come over to his apartment. It was a Saturday and every Saturday, he insisted the both of you hang out. When you met him as a dumb little kid, it was easy to hang out whenever you both pleased. Things are obviously different now that you both have responsibilities. 

Being busy with university and your part-time job, you and Gojo began to see less and less of each other. Still, Saturday evenings stayed dedicated to your long-standing friendship. That day, your shift at the grocery store was particularly grueling: loud babies wailing, irritable customers screaming in your face. To top it all off, you had a headache and had to skip lunch. Safe to say, you were exhausted. 

You got to Gojo’s house, knocking on the door, almost falling asleep against the wood. He didn't greet you. In fact, he wasn't even home. This wasn't uncommon, you simply pulled out your spare key and walked inside, making a beeline for his couch and letting your body sink into the soft cushions. The guy was unbelievably rich for a university student—not that you were complaining. 

You wanted to stay awake, wait for him so you could follow through with your usual Saturday shenanigans, but you just couldn’t. 

The couch was awfully comfortable, cradling your fatigued body, lulling you to sleep. Your eyes fought against the instinct to close, but ultimately, you lost and gave in. Darkness enveloped you as your head fell back. It was a rather uncomfortable position, but at that moment, you didn’t have enough energy to care. 

You fell asleep in mere minutes, and because he has the worst timing, Gojo showed up seconds after you had bid goodbye to consciousness. 

To this day, you’re still unsure if you had dreamt it, or maybe you had jolted back into a state of semi-awareness when your noisy friend barged in with a loud, “Honey! I’m home!". What you’re sure of, is the fact that he had moved you. While drifting in and out of sleep, you felt his cold hands press into the muscle of your arms as he laid you down, moving you into a much more comfortable position. 

Perhaps you were still in the throes of deep sleep, sinking into pillowy clouds in your dreams and that’s why you conjured up this moment. It might not have happened at all. Or, perhaps, Gojo did lean over you, his warmth spilling over your cheek as he pressed his lips to your forehead. They were slightly chapped as they brushed against your skin, and you felt the gust of air as he sighed his goodnight.

You wonder if he had smiled. 

It wasn’t like Gojo had never been affectionate with you before. In fact, you’re pretty sure physical touch is one of his love languages with how prone he is to clinging onto you like some parasite. Some things, like forehead kisses, are strictly outside the bounds of your friendship.

There’s something so intimate about that gesture, something far more genuine and laced with a kind of devotion that never exists between people who are simply just friends.

The following morning, you wrenched yourself out of his apartment with the excuse that you had to feed your fish. You don’t even own fish. 

The feeling had been so utterly foreign. You couldn’t remember a time when you had ever felt this nervous around Gojo—your palms sweaty, a tingling feeling racing up and down your spine. The realization dawned on you the moment you had woken up.

This feeling, which had laid dormant at the bottom of your heart, flickered to life, merging with the very blood that pumps through your veins.

Maybe, Gojo had always been more than just a friend. More than a best friend, even. 

You don’t know how to face it—the truth about your feelings. You try and fail to move on, try and fail to confess, try and fail.

Which is why it wasn’t surprising in any sense that you were awake, before the sun had even graced your city, slipping on your shoes so you could go and see what your best friend wanted from you. 

-: ✧ :-

“You have a what?”

Gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “Why’d you say that like I asked you to get naked or something? Listen: I have some errands to run and I need you to look after this kid of mine.”

You’re struggling to wrap your head around everything he just laid onto you. Even if the only new information was that he, seemingly overnight, got himself a kid. How did Satoru Gojo end up with a child in his care?

You sputter, trying to come up with something to say. “Since when did you have a kid?”

“I adopted him a few days ago, saved him from some family stuff. Anyways, can you look after him or not?”

You really hate yourself for saying yes, but you say yes, and suddenly you’re sitting on the couch with the world’s grumpiest child next to you. It’s been a few minutes since Gojo’s left to do God knows what, and neither of you have said a word. You expected Megumi to get off the couch and go do his thing, while you figure out how to look after him, but he stayed glued to the spot Gojo called him to.

“So…how old are you?”

Silence. 

“I’m twenty-two, just like Satoru.”

More silence.

You probably wouldn’t have known his name had it not been for Gojo telling you. 

You sigh—he clearly doesn’t like you. It stings a little bit, you liked to tell yourself that you’re the type of person kids naturally gravitate towards, but clearly there are exceptions. 

“What’s your…favorite color?” you try once more, and again, it’s met with silence. The boy hasn’t even looked at you, staring straight ahead, preoccupied with something else. 

“Well, mine is probably blue. I think it’s such a nice color—like the ocean and the sky. And there’s so many shades, but lighter blues are especially gorgeous,” you ramble, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

He lets out a breath through his nose, and you perk up, waiting for his response. “I like pink. Do you like blue because it reminds you of Gojo’s eyes?”

You laugh, perhaps a bit too loud. Out of all the things he could have said, you certainly weren’t expecting that. 

Waving your hands in front of you, you try to shrug off his question, “No, it’s nothing like that! He’s just my best friend.”

Megumi nods, but something tells you he doesn’t believe you. You can’t believe you got bested by a six-year-old. Shaking your head, you interrogate him some more about his hobbies, and Megumi responds with one word answers. Eventually, the two of you settle on reading him some non-fiction book that you’re surprised even interests him.

As the hours stretch on, Megumi warms up to you a little more. Or something like that. He’s started asking you more about yourself, and even let you inside his room, showing you his growing collection of books about animals. 

He’s strangely interested in your relationship with Gojo: asking how you two met, why you wanted to be friends with him. Whenever you give him your answer (some bullshit you make up on the spot because—really. Why are you still friends with an idiot like him?), he hums like he’s learned some fundamental truth about you. 

Honestly, the kid scares you a little bit and it makes perfect sense that he ended up with Satoru Gojo as his parent. 

Speaking of: the fact that Gojo was even allowed to adopt him in the first place makes you question everything you ever knew about him. Then again, there’s always the possibility that this was by no means a legal adoption. He did say Megumi was saved from some family troubles, and knowing your best friend of several years, this very well entails kidnapping. 

You furrow your brows, looking over at the six-year-old doodling some large fluffy dogs, “Did Gojo just scoop you up off the street?”

“Something like that.”

Well. That’s alarming. 

When Gojo gets back, he doesn’t really offer you much of an explanation as to how or why he suddenly has a kid. You were naïve for thinking you would get one at all. Instead, he tucks Megumi into bed, sits you down at his dinner table, and shares some of the takeout he brought home with you. 

You expected that to be the last time you’d be babysitting Megumi.

But then you’re back in two days, and then the day after that as well. And then the day after that too. 

Now, you’re a good friend who loves helping out your friends, and you’re a good Samaritan who will provide your aid where it’s needed. In the grand scheme of things, this isn’t even that terrible of an arrangement. You could definitely live like this.

But then it’s been a week of being called to babysit, and you definitely can’t live like this.

You don’t have the heart to look Gojo in the eyes and tell him you can’t do this anymore, so you keep going. Love makes people do crazy things, even if it’s ignoring pending assignments so you could color dogs with a grumpy little boy.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you get dressed, “Why don’t you get an actual babysitter? I doubt I’m being a good influence.”

Of course, your academics are your top priority. But you can’t help but think about how Megumi might turn out if the only people he seems to be surrounded by are you, and your impulsive, borderline insane best friend. 

Gojo’s voice crackles over the phones as he laughs, “You see, I would. But Megumi keeps asking for you- actually, he insists that it has to be you.”

Maybe, you’re just being dramatic. This isn’t that bad anyways. 

This time when you step into the Gojo household, your beloved best friend already has one foot out the door. Normally, he lingers, giving you both sickly sweet goodbyes, scooping up a struggling Megumi into his arms to plant a big wet kiss on his cheek. 

He offers you one too, which you quickly decline. 

“I won’t be back until really late today,” Satoru grimaces, pulling the door shut only for you to pull it back open.

You pout, slightly alarmed, “But Satoru, I have an essay to work on!”

"Just use my laptop!” he shouts as he runs off. You wonder how he has the time to do any of his own assignments. 

You figure he’s probably out meeting with his model UN group. It’s one of the few academic pursuits in his life that Gojo is very serious about. Either that, or he actually took up the tutoring offer from Nanami (but you highly doubt that).

Megumi has yet to wake up, so you go on a hunt for Gojo’s laptop to start on your essay. Might as well be productive while you have the chance to. 

You find it resting on his desk in his bedroom, and bring it over to the living room. It’s only when you open it up that you find out it’s password locked. You try texting Gojo, but something tells you he won’t be responding. 

If you can’t guess the password, then you have to begrudgingly start your essay on your phone, which sounds like a nightmare.

Your first guess is his own birthday. Satoru has a habit of acting like his birth reset the course of planet Earth, so it wouldn’t surprise you if that was also his password. Surprisingly, you’re wrong. And you’re wrong about it being Getou’s birthday, or Megumi’s birthday (which you only learned recently), and even your own birthday. 

You’ve definitely ruled out the possibility of it ever being Nanami’s birthday, which leads you to believe it isn’t a birthday at all. Bringing your hands together, you steeple your fingers and bring them under your chin; trying to think like Gojo is hurting your brain.

Clearly this isn't working out. Gojo's an enigma and trying to put yourself in his shoes is making you lose what few brain cells you've managed to save. 

So, you make your way into his poorly guarded room.

You tend to keep a safe distance away from his bedroom for obvious reasons—Lord knows what Gojo has lying around—so it feels strange to open the door and step inside. 

Your first impression is one of surprise at how clean it was. Knowing his tendency to leave many of his chores untouched or half-completed, you expected his room to be a reflection of his laziness, but you can actually see the floor. His bed is made and his dirty clothes lay in a hamper in the corner, clean clothes folded and placed off to the side on his bed. 

His desk is a tad cluttered with random trinkets, many of which you recognize from your countless adventures with him, but it’s organized enough.

“Okay, if I was Satoru, what would I make my password?” you whisper just under your breath as your eyes continue to scan and scrutinize his room. 

You walk up to a few post-it notes stuck on the wall, hoping that one of them might be his password. You remember the amount of times Gojo’s gotten locked out of his email, social media, and other things—it would only make sense for him to write passwords down.

Unfortunately for you, all of them are reminders to take out the trash. 

Pulling out the chair tucked into his desk, you take a seat, sprawling out as you continue to take in his room. Growing up, you spent hours upon hours cooped up in Satoru’s room. The two of you spent your time playing video games, watching tv shows you were definitely too young for, and talking about everything and nothing. 

When you got bored of his room, the both of you would do the same thing in your room. 

Somewhere along the years, you stopped hanging out in each others’ rooms. You suppose it’s only natural—your bedroom goes from being a place to sleep to a clear insight into the way you live your life. 

Gojo’s room lacks the mess you would’ve expected, but it’s still obviously his room from the several polaroids stuck to the wall, the kikufuku wrappers on his desk, and the growing collection of mugs accumulating on the nightstand. 

It makes you smile, despite the fact that the several mugs are nothing short of disgusting. Next to them is a framed picture. You never took Satoru for someone who’s sentimental, and out of sheer curiosity, you walk over to see what it is. 

Your smile only widens as you realise it's a picture of you and him from when you were young. You recognize the park the two of you are at instantly: it was where you both met. You were both only just kids back then. He basically ran into you and felt guilty, so he offered to hang out with you since you apparently looked lonely. You took offense, obviously, and told him to leave you alone. 

He did not and suddenly you found yourself with a new friend. Gojo forced himself into your life and after a few short days, you decided he wasn’t all that bad. The picture was taken by his mom, before the both of you parted ways, only to immediately find out you lived across from each other.

You flip the frame over, surprised to find a date scribbled in the corner. From the year alone, you figure it was the day the picture was taken. Realising you may have stumbled across his password, you rush back to his laptop to try it. 

Lo and behold, it worked.

You sit there for a moment, desperately trying not to read into what you just found out. Surely, there’s nothing more to this than Satoru choosing a date for a password. He probably didn’t want to go with a birthday since it would be too obvious, so he picked another date instead. 

Shaking the annoyingly hopeful thoughts crowding your mind, you quickly begin working on your essay.

You only get halfway through your essay before Megumi joins you, silent as always, but from the way he’s side-eyeing you it’s obvious he wants your attention. You spend the rest of the day with him as you usually would, reading and drawing, sharing bits and pieces about your life.

Somehow the conversation spirals to when you and Gojo met, and you’re not sure if you’re still hung up over his password, but you find your voice shaking a little as you recount the many things you’ve done with him.

Eventually, as the sun begins to set, you get dinner ready and eat on the couch with Megumi by your side. Some random cartoon show is playing on TV, but Megumi seems much more interested in mimicking the way you’re forking pasta into your mouth. 

He helps you clean up, and shuffles in next to you on the couch once more. You don’t remember Megumi falling asleep, or when you fell asleep as well.

-: ✧ :-

When you wake up, you're surrounded by warmth. It feels like you're sinking into something akin to moist, spongy cake. The sunlight melts over your closed eyes, and you flutter them open, blinded by white very briefly as you get used to the daytime once more. 

And then you notice Gojo laying next to you, elbow pressed into the mattress as he holds his head up with his palm, obviously shirtless and staring down at you. All the air in your lungs escapes you quickly, getting tangled in your throat as you choke. 

You frantically point at his torso, and the bed the two of you were sharing, "What- you- what?"

He laughs and it does little to calm you, "Don't worry, we didn't do anything.

“I didn't want to leave you on the couch after I pried Megumi away to send him off to school."

He shrugs off the comforter, making your thrashing heart slow down at the sight of his sweatpants. You can feel your own clothes from last night on you: your uncomfortable jeans and an old cotton and polyester t-shirt. 

You frown, following him, "Megumi goes to school?"

"Yeah?" he says, while your eyes flit all over his chest. "He's six, what else would he be doing?"

You decide not to comment on the fact that Megumi hasn’t been attending school for the past couple days, trusting that Gojo knew what he was doing. That’s probably a mistake but it’s not your problem to worry about. 

The two of you file out of his bedroom, and you scroll through your phone while waiting for him to leave the bathroom. 

"I can't believe Megumi slept with you last night. And on top of that, he was clinging onto you like a dumb koala."

You could barely understand Gojo with his toothbrush shoved in his mouth, but you could make out enough to respond with a smug smirk, "Sorry that I'm better at this than you are."

"I'm telling you—it's the maternal instincts!" he huffs, walking back into the bathroom with the slam of the door. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to pull him away from you in the morning?"

He's yelling from inside the bathroom, and you roll your eyes as he keeps complaining. 

"I basically got in my morning work out! And then-!" he starts again, this time opening the door, wiping his face with a small towel, "that little shit had the audacity to start wailing when I carried you off to the bedroom.

"Whining about how you were his or whatever," Gojo trails off, his voice getting quieter as he begins to mumble. "As if I didn't know you first."

You feel your chest tighten as your heart swells; it's surprising how quickly you've grown attached to the little kid. For all his efforts, he was actually pretty clingy.

A laugh bubbles up your throat, the corners of your mouth twitching up with amusement as you come to a realization.

"Gojo...are you jealous of a little kid?"

He gives you an incredulous look, scoffing in offense, "Gojo? You mean Satoru—first of all."

The laugh you've been holding back bursts past your lips, escaping you as you shut the door in his face. 

"Second of all," he shouts, "no. I am not jealous of some kid!"

"I beg to differ!" you call out, and he doesn't respond. You enjoy the silence: this feels good. This feels domestic, and natural, and good. 

It makes your stomach twist when you realize that Gojo is nothing more than a good friend. And he'd never see you as anything more than that. 

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asks suddenly, and you clear your thoughts. 

"Nothing, coffee is fine."

"Okay, no. I’m making waffles," he hums and you can hear him walk away, his footsteps making the ground shake. 

You go about your business in the bathroom, exiting a few seconds later to meet Gojo in the kitchen. He's busy gathering ingredients, setting everything down onto the marble counters as he hums a song you recognize as one you introduced him to. 

Leaning against the cool counter, you begin to speak, "You know the heart attack you gave me today morning?"

He responds by turning around, giving you a wolfish grin, which you pointedly ignore. 

"Why didn't you leave me on the couch anyway?"

This was the first time Gojo has ever made an effort to pick you up and move you somewhere else, let alone his own bed. You've slept over multiple times before, and always woke up on the couch. 

He stills, hesitating for a moment and you can feel the air almost pause. 

"And what? Leave you to complain at me about how you slept weird?"

He brushed off the question, both you and him know that. But you let it go, opting for admiring your best friend, and crush, work the kitchen. 

Gojo isn't the best cook, certainly not better than you, but he can hold his own. That being said, Gojo's a messy cook and always leaves the kitchen like a hurricane swept through it. 

He looks good, but then again, the moments where he looks even mediocre are few and far between. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the watery sun from the cloudy sky outside spreads over his back and his porcelain hair like it's meant to be shining on him at all times. 

You come around the side of the kitchen, hoisting yourself up onto the counter Gojo was working on, allowing your gaze to settle on the curve of his nose and the way his lips were parted with focus. His eyes seem to take on an almost mystical glow—vivid cerulean irises flitting from the different bowls laid out in front of him. 

"Take a picture, Princess, it'll last longer," he mutters with a ghost of a smirk. 

"You're so annoying."

His boisterous laugh takes up the whole room, and you bite your lip, looking down at your swinging feet. 

He calms down and pours the batter into the warmed up waffle maker, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth with focus, "You know, it took Megumi weeks to warm up to me. He's not shy but...he's kind of picky with people."

This surprises you. 

Sure, when you first met him, Megumi wasn't the kindest. but it didn't take you long to break him out of his shell. He wasn't the most talkative, but it was the little things: when he leaned into your side while you sat beside him, when he mimicked the way you had eaten. Megumi is observant and mimicry is the sincerest form of flattery. 

"I hadn't noticed..." you finally say, trailing off. 

Gojo exhales something of a laugh, "That's because he loves you."

"I think 'love' is pushing it-"

"No, no! You should've seen him today, bitching and moaning about how I'm making him leave you." He rolls his eyes with a groan, muttering to himself in annoyance. 

You smirk, pointing at his face to make a quip about him rolling his eyes, when someone begins to bang on the front door. There's a quick, rapid succession of knocks, and then: "Satoru! Where are you? You have class!"

You don't give Gojo the chance to speak before you're jumping off the counter, rushing over to open the door. 

Getou stands with his hands shoved in his pockets, brows furrowed until he realizes it's you who's opened the door, and not his perpetually tardy friend. He breathes out your name like it's a song. "Nice to see you," he smiles, bending down to meet your gaze. Your cheeks grow warm, involuntarily. 

Though your affection may lie with Gojo, Getou was still every bit as charming, and then some. 

You move out of the way, giving him the space to step into Gojo's lavish flat. His sneakers squeak against the tile of the entrance as he stops next to you. 

"Good to see you too, Suguru," you grin back, wrapping your arms around your waist. 

He shuffles a bit closer to you, and you don't hesitate to lean against him, still somewhat tired from your slightly rude awakening. Getou moves with ease as he slips an arm around you, bringing you into his side. 

"I don't have class today, you know that."

Gojo comes into view from around the kitchen, his eyes immediately fixating on the way Suguru has you within his grasp. He visibly stiffens, eyes darkening in a way you haven’t seen before, wearing a kind of neutral look that you can’t understand.

Suguru, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow, "Are you sure about that? Today is Tuesday, not Wednesday."

And this time when Gojo stills, it's not with some unreadable expression that confuses you—it's with shock. He scrambles to pull out his phone from the pocket of his sweats, glancing at the date before letting out a string of curses. 

"C'mere," he gestures at you, then ultimately decides to pull you away, his hand closing around your wrist. 

You let Gojo drag you into the kitchen, ignoring the way your skin burns at his touch, and he turns to you with an apologetic smile. He's stumbling out his words, hands gripping your upper arms as he speaks. "I can't be marked late by the professor again, or else I'm gonna be in so much trouble."

It’s beyond you why the two of you had to walk into the kitchen for him to divulge this information. And it’s certainly beyond you why Gojo had let his fingers linger around your wrist, and on your upper arms. You ignore it, however, as you move towards the sleek, black Keurig and turn it on.

Getou walks into the kitchen then, shooing a very reluctant Gojo to go get dressed. He moves over to grab you a mug for your coffee, which you graciously thank him for since Gojo had a habit of leaving everything you needed tucked away in unusually high cabinets.

You set it under the coffee maker, waiting for the dark liquid to fill the cup. Tendrils of steam spill out the sides of the mug, the kitchen filling up with the scent of the bitter drink. To your side, Getou’s leaning against the counter, watching you with a soft smile. You meet his eyes with a curious stare, raising your eyebrows.

“Something on my face, Suguru?”

He laughs, warm and deep, shaking his head, “Nothing at all.” He slides closer, reaching around you to grab a spoon before grabbing the creamer for you. “Why’d you spend the night anyway? Did that idiot bug you to study with him?”

You scoff at the thought of your ‘study’ sessions with Gojo; they always devolve into the both of you watching a movie, your work forgotten on the floor. 

“Nope,” you answer, pouring some of the creamer into your coffee, “I was babysitting his…kid.”

Getou’s eyes widen ever so slightly, the only indicator of him acknowledging what you said. You open your mouth to say something more, but Gojo comes running out of his room, jacket half-on. He eyes your closeness to Getou suspiciously, before motioning for his friend to follow him with a wave of his hand. 

Before they leave, Gojo walks over to where you’re standing in the kitchen, grinning at you so sweetly. You know he wants something from you.

“Would you– like to stay for dinner? With Megumi and i?” he asks, voice just a hair above a whisper. Had you not been standing so close to him, you might not have heard him at all. His expression remains sincere for a moment more before it morphs into an exaggerated pout.

“Please?” he begs, dragging out the word just to irritate you.

“Put that fucking pout away and I might agree.”

He takes that as a yes, pulling you into a hug that nearly spills the coffee out of your mug. “I’ll see you then,” he mumbles into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like you’d float away should he let go.

Getou slams a hand against the wall, reminding gojo of his presence, “Hurry it up, unless you wanna be late.”

You wave them both out, Gojo blowing a kiss your way which you pretend to catch and stomp on. The action elicits a laugh from Getou which earns him a shoulder punch from the taller of the two. They begin bickering as they walk away and you watch fondly, heart aching for something you know you’re never getting.

-: ✧ :-

When Gojo gets back from class, he arrives with Megumi in tow. The young boy stumbles inside, shrugging off his backpack as soon as he makes it in. You had let yourself in a few moments earlier, knowing gojo would be home soon. You wanted to help with dinner.

Megumi notices you seated on the couch and approaches you slowly, giving you a short wave. You return the gesture just as Gojo walks over to meet you both, large hands resting atop Megumi’s head.

“Ready for dinner?”

You nod your head, getting up, “I’m helping.”

"I figured,” he laughs, leading the way into the kitchen. You watch as he puts on the stupid apron Shoko had gotten him as a gag gift a few years ago. ‘Kiss the Cook!’ is printed in red cursive on the front with kiss marks and red hearts around it.

Gojo catches you looking at the words, leaning closer while pointing at his lips. “Well? You read the apron, Angel.”

You try not to put much meaning into the pet name and scoff, shoving him away. “Are aprons suddenly law or something?”

“Not all of them, but this one is.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s so special about this one, Satoru?” you ask, getting ingredients out from the fridge, the necessary produce needed for dinner tonight. 

“It's special 'cause I said so.”

You scoff, “In your dreams, dumbass.”

Satoru grins, wide and yielding as he steps closer to where you’ve cosied up in a corner. You take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart thrashing against your ribcage. Though his attention should be elsewhere, his eyes remain glued to your own. You turn around, back facing him.

It’s a precautionary measure because you’re sure that you’d make a mistake, staring at him the way you were. 

His chest presses against your back, the warmth of his body seeping through the cotton of his shirt and you can’t quite stop yourself from relaxing against him. 

“Where did I put it?” he mumbles to himself, searching the cupboards above you. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about the fact that he’s crowding you against the counter, one arm resting on the marble countertop, caging you against him.

Gojo pulls away rather abruptly, the feeling of him disappearing as soon as you had gotten used to it. “Guess it’s not there after all,” he says, swiftly moving over to another cupboard to check. 

You, however, have a hand pressed to your heart, feeling it nearly beat out of your chest. 

Megumi joins you both in the kitchen shortly after, and Gojo brings him up to sit on some free counter space while the both of you maneuver around each other in the kitchen. You can feel Megumi watching you as you hand things over to Gojo, freezing when his fingers brush yours. You know he’s watching when Gojo reaches around you for something, pressing himself against you.

You wait for the water in the pot to come to a simmer, softly humming the chorus of a song over and over again. Eventually, Megumi picks up on the repetition, humming along with you. It brings a smile to your face and you can’t resist pinching his little cheek. 

You’re too busy cooing at Megumi (whose face has gone red from embarrassment) to notice Gojo watching you both, leaning down, his cheek propped up by his arm resting on the counter. There’s a warmth in his gaze that you always seem to miss, this barely restrained desire to know you better than he knows himself.

He sighs wistfully, which gets your attention and as you turn, he’s walking closer. You let him wrap his arms around you, looking into your eyes for just a brief moment. His gaze is cloudy, like he’s wrapped up in his own head—your own pining reflected back to you. It startles you; you long to look inside his mind.

“This is really nice,” Gojo hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

You can only nod in agreement, everything you want to say sticking to the roof of your mouth, sugar exploding along your tongue like a caramel candy. 

You swallow them down, deciding to keep them to yourself for a little longer. Gojo squeezes you to his chest, then untangles himself from you. You watch him get back to cooking and you wonder if his heart is also racing, the blood rushing to his head, roaring in his ears. 

There's a whisper of something painful in the back of your mind. You ignore it.

Seconds ago, you were close enough to share a breath. Yet, when you watch him now, you feel as though you’ll always be miles apart.

-: ✧ :-

It’s been a few days since you’ve started babysitting Megumi. You fell so easily into their routine, like you were always meant to be a part of it. And when you listen to Gojo complain about how m\Megumi likes you more, you begin to believe that you were. 

You fiddle with the keys to Gojo’s car as you stand just outside of Megumi’s school, waiting for the hordes of children to come running out. Tired mothers sit on the few benches next to the entrance, rehashing the same gossip most likely. Fathers stand possessively in front of their cars, arms crossed over their chest as they wait. 

It’s cold. The wind brings a chill that sweeps over you and makes a few strands of your hair flutter, landing in a mess covering your eyes. You blow them out of the way, tapping your foot impatiently. 

Megumi’s school is rather small: just one main building, single-storied. In the back, you think there’s a garden, judging by the chain link fencing colored green thanks to the growing ivy wrapped around it. 

Wreathes and small Christmas trees are placed strategically along the sidewalk and on the walls outside, fairy lights strung from the roof of the school. The announcement board outside features a Santa Claus cutout smiling joyfully. The school is covered in Christmas decorations as they prepare for the upcoming holidays, only a week and a half away.

You briefly wonder what Gojo’s plans are, whether he’ll be taking Megumi home to his family. You highly doubt it—Satoru would hate to be on the receiving end of a stream of endless questions. How was he meant to explain Megumi anyway?

Along with that thought, comes another: would Megumi miss his family over the holidays? 

You don’t know much about the boy at all, neither Megumi himself nor Gojo bothered to explain his past. However, it must be a pretty stark change to suddenly be under the care of a college student, especially one as eccentric as Gojo. 

The clock ticks down to a minute before the end of the school day. A large crowd of children stand waiting behind the closed gates, squealing and screaming, waving frantically at their parents waiting for them.

You hear the bell ring and the gate opens, kids flooding out like a rush of water breaking past a dam. Their little legs slam against the pavement as they race for their families. You keep an eye out for Megumi, knowing that he wouldn’t be the type to behave so rambunctiously. 

It doesn’t take long for you to spot the top of his head, his spiky raven hair moving slowly behind a gaggle of loud children. Megumi looks around aimlessly, probably for Nanami who normally picks him up. His friend next to him, a pink-haired boy, grins at him and says something you can’t make out.

He must be loud, you notice, as Megumi winces from the noise. His gaze eventually makes its way to you, and you watch as recognition flashes across his features. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide, Megumi makes a mad dash towards you, plowing down his friend in the process.

The sight of the pink-haired boy rolling around on the sidewalk makes you gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your laughter at bay. Megumi slows down dramatically when you wave to him, struggling to appear indifferent to your presence. It’s insanely endearing.

“Hi Megumi,” you smile, reaching out a hand to brush over the unruly strands of his hair. Megumi wrinkles his nose at the feeling of your fingers smoothing over his scalp, but he returns your greeting.

“Hello. Where’s Nanami?”

The abruptness of the question barely phases you. You’re used to Megumi’s bluntness.

“Well…Satoru forgot to tell Nanami to get you today, so I showed up instead,” you answer, leading Megumi towards Gojo’s car. 

You barely had the opportunity to really take in this car on your way to the school, borderline speeding so you wouldn’t show up late. Curse you for falling asleep for too long. Everything about it screamed Gojo, from the color to the model (appropriately flashy for a very flashy guy). It’s not your kind of car by any means.

You grab Megumi’s backpack while he clambers into the backseat, hopping up onto the booster seat placed on the right. The bright orange flames decorating the fabric is a pretty strong indicator that Gojo bought this thing without consulting Megumi. Handing him back his backpack, you climb into the driver’s seat.

The drive is a lot more peaceful when you’re not racing against traffic lights and skating just under the speed limit. You think of the last time you were in this car—it was too long ago for you to be able to recall.

Stopped at a red light, you allow your eyes to wander a bit and explore the front dash. Gojo’s placed a small cat figurine in the corner, but aside from that, his car lacks much personality. The only other decorative piece he’s got is a small keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. 

You eye it carefully, wondering why the fraying twine and colorful beads seem so familiar to you. It takes you some time to remember the bracelet you had gifted Gojo years ago, in fourth grade. You had spent recess with some other friends of yours, making friendship bracelets. When you went to give Gojo the bracelet you made for him, you were met with petty hostility.

He had been upset because you had ditched him, but his grievances were quickly forgotten as soon as you handed over his gift. He wore it every single day until he couldn’t anymore. When you asked about it, Satoru explained that the bracelet had come apart. You weren’t surprised: he wore it way too much and that thing was holding on thanks to a flimsy knot you put together as a chubby fingered nine-year-old.

You hadn’t expected him to keep it after that, let alone turn it into a keychain to hang in his car. 

The fact that he had held onto it even after all these years makes your heart flip in a way that you know is dangerous. Tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you focus back on driving. 

Once you’re back in the apartment, you decide to get started on making Megumi some kind of snack to tide him over until dinner rolls around. you watch him rummage around in his backpack, walking over to you with a piece of paper in his hand. 

He tugs on your apron, handing you the paper without a single word of explanation. from a quick glance, you gather that it’s a drawing and you grin, “This is so cute, Megumi!”

Sure, you didn’t really see it yet, but he doesn’t need to know that. You have to foster creativity in children when they’re young in any way you can, even if it means lying sometimes.

You set aside some strawberries to dice, making a mental note to put the picture up on the fridge. Gojo has an abundance of random magnets from all the places he’s visited; might as well put them to good use. 

When you grab the drawing off the counter, really take a look at what’s on it, you almost can’t believe it. For a moment, you wonder if you’re simply projecting your twisted hopes onto this kid’s art piece. 

Megumi’s decided to draw himself, standing with his brows furrowed, next to a very long man who you can only assume to be Gojo, judging by the white hair and sunglasses. On megumi’s left, is someone in a blue sweater, shorter than gojo. It’s you.

There was clearly an attempt at drawing hands that fell apart into a jumble of squiggles but you get the idea: they’re all holding hands. At the top of the drawing, in large messy handwriting is the title.

“My Family.”

Megumi runs up to the counter, eyeing you carefully as you take in the drawing. You’re struck with the sudden urge to confess to Gojo, convince him to make this boy’s vision a reality. You think he deserves that much.

But your heart aches in a way it never has before—filled with this dreadful yearning for a man you know will never look at you the way you look at him. 

The whispers in the back of your mind come together and someone flickers to life, like the flame appearing from a lighter.

“This is beautiful, Megumi,” you whisper, sticking it onto the fridge with a magnet advertising Las Vegas. Something malicious squeezes around your lungs, digging it’s claws into your heart but you gulp back the pain. 

Megumi is none the wiser, nodding in agreement and waiting patiently for you to hand him his snack. He runs off, taking a seat on the couch and you watch him eat, realizing how sickeningly domestic this whole scene is. 

You hate it. 

Hours pass unceremoniously. Gojo barges in with a slam of the front door, practically shouting at the top of his lungs.

“There they are, my two favorite people!” he grins, kicking off his shoes. You close your laptop, leaving it on the couch as you get up just in time to dodge Gojo’s hug. He stumbles forward onto the couch where you were sitting previously.

While he grumbles about evil you are, you decide to grab the picture Megumi brought home. Once again, you’re struck by how domestic your actions are, and you hesitate. 

Gojo, however, is already making his way over to you, holding Megumi captive in his arms. “What’s that?” he asks with a nod of his head.

You turn it around, holding it up to show him and you watch carefully as his eyes flicker from person to person. His grin falls into a gentle smile, somewhat guarded, and he uses his free hand to take the picture from you.

Megumi takes this opportunity to launch himself out of Gojo’s grasp, scurrying off to his room. Your eyes follow him as he disappears behind a wall. When you bring your attention back to Gojo, he’s stepped closer to you.

His stare is intense, unwavering, and it directly contrasts with the amused smile he wears. You don’t know what to think—in fact, you can barely think at all. The air is thick with tension, it presses down on your chest until you can barely breathe. 

“It’s a perfect family, don’t you think?” he asks, his gaze softening as he looks down at the drawing. The atmosphere shifts but you still feel breathless, filled with this ache to wrap yourself around him. 

“Yeah, it is,” you say, ever so quietly because you’re scared that anything louder would break this feeling. He’s so close, you could close the gap and kiss him right now. 

There’s a crash, a large stack of books laying on the floor, papers scattered everywhere. Megumi stands next to it, eyes wide and terrified. His small hands curl into little fists and he takes a deep breath. “Didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you reply, swiftly moving to his side. The moment is forgotten, the kiss never shared. “It was an accident.”

He nods, but he stares at you with watery eyes and your heart breaks. Scooping him up and into your arms, you walk him out onto the balcony. He tries not to cry, you let him know that it’s okay if he wants to. 

Gojo remains standing in the kitchen, the drawing still in his hands. He stares at it for a long while, letting his mind wander to a world where it’s more than just a little kid’s silly art piece.

-: ✧ :-

You shove the last of your shirts into your suitcase, frowning at the way it bulges out when you zip it shut. It’s the week of Christmas, four days before the actual holiday, but you’re only just leaving to go back home. 

Megumi’s on break, so is Gojo, so you’re not really needed. You wish you were—you miss both of them.

Setting the suitcase upright, you go down your checklist of things, making sure you packed everything. You still haven’t mentally prepared to see your extended family, knowing they’ll be chasing after you with questions about your dating life.

‘Have you gotten a boyfriend yet?’ 

‘Can we expect an engagement soon?’ 

‘Any plans for kids?’

It’s all horrible and invasive and you don’t get why any of that matters to them at all. It’s your life, your choices. If you’re not bringing it up yourself, there’s no need to hound you about it every single time you see them.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket from a message, and you’re unsurprised to see that it’s from Gojo.

gojo 🤑: hey bbg 😳

you: kys  what do u want

gojo 🤑: what are ur christmas plans 🤔

You furrow your brows at the question, wondering why he asked at all. every single year, you always do the same thing.

you: going home…. what else would i be doing genius

gojo 🤑: LAMEEEEE i was gonna ask if u wanted to come over ig but whatever u hate me 😢😢😢

You finish off the conversation, letting him know that you do hate him, and that you need to get back to packing.

Knowing his circumstances, you know that Gojo is probably staying at home with Megumi. He can’t exactly weasel his way out of explaining the fact that he’s managed to adopt a kid. It’s most likely why he asked if you had plans, despite knowing that you do. You know he’s probably feeling lonely—it makes your heart twist and tear. 

You fight the urge to ask him to join you as you drive home.

On Megumi’s birthday, Gojo proposes that you facetime him. You agree, obviously wanting to see the little boy who’s become so precious to you so quickly. The first thing Megumi does upon seeing your face is frown. 

“Leave your family. I don’t like Gojo.”

You burst into laughter at the sight of your best friend’s face, jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and offense. Gojo launches into a rant about how Megumi is ungrateful, which only makes the situation funnier. 

Megumi, however, finds none of this amusing.

“I love you, Megumi,” you say between breaths, “Happy birthday!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, but you catch a glimpse of his cheeks reddening as he runs off, leaving you with a still offended Gojo.

You watch him shuffle around, propping up his phone against something. “What’s your secret, huh? What do you have that I don’t?”

"I’m just better.”

Your smile must be infectious, Gojo ditching his deep frown for a grin of his own. His eyes crinkle as you’re met with the whites of his teeth, cheeks bunching up. You can’t stand the effect he has on you, the way you melt into nothing the moment he looks your way.

“I guess you and Megumi are just perfect for each other,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze through the call. “It’s cute.”

You’re stunned into silence at his genuine words, and your heart wrenches painfully as you picture the drawing Megumi came home with. Gojo ends the call quickly, telling you he’s busy. You don’t believe it but you let him leave, allowing yourself some space from him as well.

At one point, he frantically texts you letting you know that he forgot to get Megumi a gift, begging for ideas. 

gojo 🤑: I CANRT FINF HIS CHRISARMAS LIADT ANWWER ME THIAS IS AN EMERGYE SOS 🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘

you:  OMFG DO U HAVE AN OFF SWITCH have u tried his room.

gojo 🤑: omg look at u my little genius 🥰

You stare at his messages, finding yourself wishing for his emoji keyboard to glitch out and break. The next text he sends you is a picture of Megumi’s wish list. You’re fairly certain that Megumi doesn’t believe in Santa, but it’s cute that he’s written a list anyway.

They’re all fairly normal: art supplies, animal books, toys you’ve never heard of. But what sticks out is the last bullet point, written neatly. 

gojo 🤑: he wants u to be his family  quick wrap urself up with a bow and mail urself to us 🎁 u would make a cute present 😘😘😘

You disregard Gojo’s texts for the time being, focused entirely on Megumi’s last wish. The fact that you appeared at all is shocking, considering the fact that you’ve only known him for a little over a week. 

you: yeah i’m wrapping myself up rn

gojo 🤑: pics or it didnt happen 😋

You scoff out a laugh, typing up your response. Your mind is still dwindling on the wish list, on Megumi in general. He’s quickly taken up residence inside your heart and it feels good to know that you’ve been able to do the same. 

Christmas passes slowly, filled with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon spice and heart-warming laughter. Of course, you didn’t escape the questions from your extended family. As usual, you brushed them off, eager to get out of the only conversation they seem to want with you.

But you like Christmas, and this year, it’s made better by the several pictures Gojo’s been sending you of him and Megumi. In one, they’re ice-skating. In another, they’re making a gingerbread house. It’s all typical Christmas activities but it warms your heart and you want nothing more than to be there with them.

You expect the rest of your holiday break to slip by, nothing special or new. You debated heading home earlier, but decided against it assuming most of your friends already have their respective plans. 

You weren’t expecting Gojo to invite you to his New Year’s party. In fact, you weren’t expecting him to hold a party at all. As much as he likes parties, Gojo’s never one to throw one, especially at his place. 

In retrospect, going was probably a bad idea. If only you knew that before you agreed. 

-: ✧ :-

This kind of party is one you’re entirely unfamiliar with.

Most of the parties you’ve attended never exceeded over ten people, small gatherings of close friends clearing out their busy schedules to hang out together once again like they used to. These kinds of parties are relaxed, you don’t have to dress up, you don’t have to put up a front.

This New Year’s party is the kind that coaxes you into a simple black dress, perhaps too short, perhaps too low cut. This kind of party paints your lips a dark berry color that transfers onto your cup, filled with alcohol that burns as it slides down your throat.

This kind of party plays music so loud, it crawls under your skin, seeping into your head. You feel the bass reverberate throughout your chest, forcing your heart to beat faster like adrenaline coursing through your veins.

To say you feel out of your element would be a gross understatement. Everyone around you is almost a stranger, wearing features you only vaguely recognize, enough for you to shoot them a smile and a nod as a greeting. 

You examine your hands as you stand leaning against a wall, watching people dance, laugh, shout. You’ve hidden yourself away in the dark (rather pathetic, you think), not knowing how to engage and not really wanting to either. 

“I figured you’d be in some corner,” a gentle hand touches your elbow as Shoko squeezes herself past a small group of people to stand next to you.

You smile at her, grateful to find at least one familiar face. “You must not know me at all, Shoko, I love dancing with sweaty strangers.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on her and she lets out a laugh, taking a drag from her cigarette. 

You’re surprised that Gojo even let her smoke inside, but part of you feels like he’s unaware she’s doing it at all. 

She blows out, tendrils of smoke twisting around you both, invading your senses. Shoko looks at you out of the corner of her eye, somewhat relaxed, very curious. “You’re still in love with Gojo?”

You blanch at her words, turning to face her though she remains, still regarding you through her peripheral. 

“You’re too easy to read,” she smiles, her posture curved, allowing her to relax against the wall. “I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without telling him.”

It’s probably the alcohol impairing your judgment, but you frown, sighing into your cup. “My alternative is losing him forever, so I can’t exactly be picky.” You don’t intend on letting her into your thoughts this way, even if it’s only a sliver of the way you feel. 

It would’ve been better to brush her off with a joke. Shoko doesn’t seem to care, humming, “ I don’t know, I think you’d be in for a surprise.”

“Well, I hate surprises.”

Time flies by but the night remains young. You’ve loosened up a bit thanks to the alcohol, laughing freely, no longer worried about your attire. Your two person party in the corner steadily grew, Nanami and Getou joining you after some time. 

Gojo is still missing, but you suspect he’s out being a good host.

You’ve laid your head on Shoko’s shoulders, laughing at Nanami recounting stories from the tutoring he’s been busy with. Getou stands to your left, reaching out a hand towards you whenever you stumble slightly. 

Your cup is empty and you make no moves to fill it again, not wanting to exit the good conversation you’re having. You like hearing Nanami talk about his work, hearing Shoko complain about her lab partner, and hearing Getou’s jokes. 

The four of you decide to get some food in an attempt to sober up. It’s then that Gojo finally shows up. The crowd parts for him like he’s someone important. Thanks to the effects of the alcohol wearing off, you can tell it’s because he’s shouting his way through the crowd. 

“Why are you losers hiding from the party?” he asks, shooting Shoko a glare when she takes a drag of her cigarette. She simply blinks at him, making no move to throw it out. 

“Not hiding,” you respond, opening your mouth to bite down on the slice of pizza Getou’s trying to feed you. “Just eating.” Your words come out muffled thanks to the food. Getou shuffles his chair closer to your side.

Gojo lets his gaze settle on you, lips slightly parted as his eyes wander, taking in your dress and your half-opaque lipstick. You think you see his eyes widen, you can’t be sure. You think you see him almost gulp. You can’t be sure. 

Gojo reluctantly tears his stare away from you, watching his friend closely, jaw clenched. His anger is only invisible to you, the sight causing Shoko to laugh (she marvels at your idiocy often). He grabs a chair and pushes it up right next to yours on the opposite side, arms crossed. 

He sits silently, glaring at you and Getou, though you hardly notice. You’re too engrossed in whatever story Getou’s telling you. He reaches over to brush some hair out of your eyes; Gojo stands up abruptly, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Actually, I have some important news to tell you,” he says, words short and succinct as he drags you away from the table. 

You’re too confused to stop him from pulling you all the way to the hallway that opens up into his bedroom. It’s only then that you wriggle free from his grip, staring at him, wondering what his problem is.

“What’re you–”

Your back is pressed against the wall, he stands a few steps in front of you. He’s breathing hard and his eyes are blown wide and you wonder who this man is—the worry creasing his forehead makes him seem lightyears away from the satoru you know. 

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks, the sentence stumbling out of his mouth like he wasn’t quite ready to say it. Gojo doesn’t give you the chance to answer him, already talking once again. 

“Go you like Suguru?” he asks, taking a few steps closer, until he’s a hair’s width away from you. 

The question is so out of left field, you’re forced to take a moment and process it. Gojo’s gaze hardens at your silence, and you stave off the urge to make a joke out of this situation. Uncertainty makes your stomach churn—you’ve yet to see your best friend like this.

There’s a crease between his brows, lips downturned but not quite a frown. His words still hang heavy in the air, broken jealousy rearing its ugly head. His hand loosens around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull away.

You take a deep breath, feeling like you’ve taken in all the air left between you and him. “No. No, I don’t,” you whisper, heart beating so fast you almost expect the muscle to burst within your chest. 

Your admission makes his shoulders drop, the tense atmosphere almost melting away altogether. Gojo tightens his fingers around your wrist once more, bridging the gap between you both. He hovers above you, his free hand placed against the wall as he cages you against it. 

Despite the years you’ve known him, sometimes you find it so hard to read him, understand his motivations. Gojo leans close, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“So you just really like being mean to me,” he mutters and you furrow your brows, gnawing at your bottom lip. 

“I haven’t said one mean thing to you all night, Satoru,” you say quietly, eyes downcast, avoiding his attentive stare. His eyes, as blue as the sky, still shimmer in the dark and you watch from beneath your lashes as they shift to a dulled luster. 

Gojo drops his head into the crook of your neck, you can feel his lips move against your skin as he speaks, “There’s more than one way to be mean.” 

Your breath is caught in your throat. He’s running his nose up your neck, smearing a kiss below your jaw. Your lack of resistance only emboldens him further and he kisses the same spot once again.

And you let him, gulping back the unpleasant feelings that float to the tip of your tongue because who are you to ruin this? On another night, you might have untangled yourself from him, walking away and creating necessary distance between you both.

But he’s exactly where you want him, where you’ve been longing for him. 

So tonight, you simply mutter his name in warning, your voice cracking softly as he slides his hand around your waist. His touch burns, it's as though the material of your dress simply doesn’t exist under the weight of his palm. 

Gojo presses his mouth to your ear. When he speaks, he sounds so resigned, almost like the woman that sits in your mind, taunting you with the possibility of everything unraveling. She licks at your wounds and her breath burns.

“I feel so…stupid when it comes to you,” he rasps out, pulling you closer. “You drive me crazy and I don’t know what to do–” he cuts himself off before he gets too deep into his rambling. Anticipation steadily rises up your chest, higher and higher and higher.

“It’s always been you,” Gojo says, letting you see his face once more. he leans over you, simply staring, the loud music fading away until it’s nothing but a beat behind the incessant thrum of your heart. 

The woman makes herself apparent, hiding just behind your eyes, her words piercing your skin.

You gather the courage to really look at him, ignoring the way the woman in your head sighs, telling you it’s not worth it—telling you it’ll hurt. She tells you it’s only going to ache, and tear, and rip apart. You shake her away. his eyes have you trapped in them, drowning in his blue, your hands wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t waver, shifting his gaze down to your lips.

“I love you,” he breathes out, his words so full of promise you nearly believe it. But then you remember where you are, you remember what you’ve been doing.

Your hands rest on his shoulders, feeling the cotton material of his shirt under your fingertips. “You can’t mean that,” you reply in a whisper. 

The woman in your head shrieks at you until her voice turns hoarse and raw. You grab the collar of his shirt, closing the gap, your lips meeting his. Gojo fists the silk of your dress, creasing the material against his palm. Your trembling hand brushes along his cheek and he chases after your touch, tilting his head to the side, nose bumping against yours. He’s presses you into the wall, your spine meeting the cold plaster as goosebumps erupt down your arms. 

The woman shouts, the woman regrets. The woman tells you you’re making a mistake but she’s inevitably drowned out by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Gojo brings his hand up to your jaw, fingers squeezing desperately. His kiss is all tongue and teeth, he steals your breath away.

A fire festers in the pit of your stomach, it’s flames fueled by his touch, his warmth, everything him. It curls into a burning in your chest. Insatiable greed drives Gojo to take you into his arms, your feet stumbling against each other’s as you make your way into his room. 

Your back hits his comforter, you pull him closer.

The woman sits silently and weeps.

-: ✧ :-

You wake up with a dull pounding behind your eyes and a painful silence inside your mind. Warmth envelops you as you twist and turn under Gojo’s heavy blankets—it’s reminiscent of an earlier time. 

Beams of sunlight force your eyes open and you prop yourself up, elbows sinking into Gojo’s expensive mattress. Cradling your head in your hand, you take in your surroundings: the stark white sheets, Gojo’s sleeping figure next to you.

You watch him sleep for several moments, marveling at the fact that Gojo is asleep at all. He’s always had trouble with insomnia, seeing him rest so peacefully makes you smile. 

You let your gaze sweep over his face, pressed into the pillow, messy hair obscuring his eyes. His shoulders are bare, and if last time taught you anything, it’s that Gojo has no problem with appearing borderline naked in front of you.

Scoffing, you turn to check the nightstand for your phone, pausing when a cold draft seems to linger over your arms and chest a bit stronger than usual. A pile of fabric resting against the mahogany floors catches your eye, and you stare at it blankly before everything begins to fall into place.

Your fragmented memories connect, the night floods back to you, knocking the air from your lungs.

Your dress on the floor, the very obvious smear of berry colored lipstick against his jaw. Your incredibly apparent lack of clothing.

Panic digs into your chest. The woman comes into view once more, her unwavering gaze staring at you with contempt. She crawls out of your chest, standing before you, several heads taller.

‘You messed everything up,’ she seethes. Your heart beats faster. ‘He’ll never want to see you again,’ she says, her words stinging like a slap. It becomes harder to breathe. 

You don’t stick around to see what else she has to say, grabbing your dress off the floor with shaky hands. You pull it back on messily, grabbing your phone, rushing out of his bedroom as tears cling to your lashes.

Thankfully, everyone seems to have cleared out of the apartment.

You don’t allow yourself to think, opening up the front door, rushing down the stairwell until you’re standing in the lobby of his apartment building. It’s too cold—they always crank up the air conditioning even if it’s the middle of winter. 

The lady behind the desk looks at you with pity. You suppress the urge to vomit. Tears stream down your cheeks, trailing along your chin before they fall. You know you must look a mess. You wonder where else you left your berry colored lips. 

You call Shoko; she’s hungover when she picks up but she hears the pain in your voice and she hears you bite back your tears. She’ll be there soon, she promises and you stand, waiting. 

You sit in her car, staring out the window. She tries to make you feel better by playing your favorite songs—it doesn’t do much to help. The song reminds you of Megumi. 

The thought of Megumi sends you spiraling further. How can you face Megumi after this? How can you face Gojo? He might not remember, but you always will. You’ll always remember the warmth of his hands, the way he held you near like you were everything. 

The woman tells you you’re sick.

Shoko eyes you, taking in your tear-stained face. You don’t want her pity either, digging your nails into your palm as hard as you can. She’s stopped at a red light and she reaches over to take your hand in hers.

“You have to figure out where you both stand,” she says, calm and rational as always. Sometimes, you wish she could see things the way you do. You wish she could hear the woman who haunts you. 

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the seat. The car starts moving again. “I don’t want to.” Your stomach churns, an awful mixture of anxiety and hurt rolling up your throat. 

You slept with Gojo.

You feel sick. The woman slices at you with her knives. ‘You don’t deserve him at all.’

Shoko white knuckles the steering wheel. She never takes kindly to your tears, it took you a while to figure out that it’s because she cares too much to see you cry. 

“You should confess. It’ll be good for your heart and mind,” she suggests as you see your apartment come into view. You’re not ready to be left alone with the woman. The cuts from her knives are still fresh, they still bleed.

You shake your head ever so slightly. “No,” you reply, selfishness motivating your choices more than anything. “I’m going to pretend I don’t remember—I’ll act like I was too drunk to remember.”

Shoko disagrees with you, and she lets you know as much as she can before you’re getting out of her car, walking towards your apartment. Your dress feels too short, you tug it down. The sunlight burns your scalp and you rush indoors.

As soon as you kick off your heels, Gojo texts you. Your phone is nearly dead and you debate putting off responding, excusing yourself with the fact that your phone ran out of power. You grow too curious, though, and you read his message.

gojo 🤑: hey when did u get home?

The striking lack of emojis makes the text feel impersonal, far from the man you know. The woman laughs at you.

‘He hates you.’

you:  shoko picked me up 

You pause, debating whether you should add more. Let him know that you don’t remember, let him know that you believe nothing happened.

you: i rly went overboard on the alcohol ig  i barely remember anything 

You watch the bubble indicating he’s typing appear and disappear. Your nerves fizzle and buzz, teeth sinking into your lips until you draw blood. ‘He hates you,’ the woman whispers.

gojo 🤑: yeah me too lol

You hate it. 

You’re reading into it too much, you think, but the woman says no. Her lithe fingers encircle your arms, her sadness turning you sick. You agonize over your words, agonize over his texts. You can’t face Gojo. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to see Megumi again.

‘You’re selfish,’ the woman sneers, watching you tremble. ‘Do you think you deserve to see him?’

‘What would he think of you?’

‘You’ve lost both of them.’

‘You should’ve listened to me.’

You don’t know what to say to her. She draws her arm back and strikes you.

-: ✧ :-

The following day, Gojo informs you that Megumi asked for you to babysit him. 

You had decided you would say no, for your own sake. The woman agreed so it must be the right choice. But then he tells you that Megumi’s insisting—that he misses you—and how can you say no?

So you sit on the couch, right next to Megumi as he reads from his new book (a Christmas present from Gojo). He’s laying against you, his head resting against your arm. Neither you, nor Gojo, have said a single word to each other.

It feels wrong, this silence that fills the room. It feels heavy. It keeps its palms pressed tightly against your lips, keeping your words trapped inside. You wonder if Megumi can feel it too.

Reaching over, you gently brush some of his hair out of his eyes and he stills, turning around to look up at you. His eyes are wide, they waver as they flicker between you and Gojo.

“Did you guys fight?”

You notice the way he wraps his arms around himself, as if to soothe. He takes a long breath. Megumi’s eyes widen and you realize that he’s scared.

You rush to explain, “No! No, we didn’t fight.” He doesn’t seem to believe you; Gojo walks over to you both, taking a seat next to him. 

“We’re just tired, Megumi,” he tells him, a hand rubbing circles into his back. You feel terrible. 

‘This is all your fault,’ the woman whispers. 

It’s silent again as Gojo shuffles around, getting ready to leave for his Model UN meeting. He stands at the doorway, looking at you for a moment. You can’t read him, he doesn’t explain. Gojo waves goodbye and leaves.

You watch Megumi read for a few minutes more, the aftertaste of the previous conversation still lingering on your tongue. He must feel your stare, looking up from his book.

“You’re my favorite person ever,” he admits—he sounds completely serious. You’re taken aback by his honesty, your heart melting as a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth. You reach forward, opening your arms out for a hug. Megumi quickly wraps his arms around you.

His hands cling to the fabric of your shirt, “If you did fight with Gojo, please forgive him. Don’t leave.”

‘Look what you’ve done,’ the woman says, the weight of her words make you feel like you’re drowning. 

"I won’t leave you,” you reply, ignoring the woman and her hurt. Megumi looks back at you, holding out his pinky for you. You wrap your own around his much smaller one, “Pinky promise.”

You let him rest his head against your chest, your steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep. The woman reminds you how undeserving you are of what you have. You know the woman is right. 

When Gojo gets home, he asks if you’d like to stay for dinner. Every single part of you wants to say yes, and it’s at the tip of your tongue, the answer is habitual. But this time, you turn him down. You can’t stay longer—you can’t be around him. You slip out the front door before you can see the twinkle in his eyes diminish until it’s gone. 

You get home, lay on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, and call Shoko. She tells you to confess or die. You tell her you’d rather die.

‘It would be for the best,’ the woman snickers. 

-: ✧ :-

There’s a growing tension between you and Gojo as of late, clearly the result of what happened at the New Year’s party. You keep on acting as though you don’t remember the way he loved you, but it gets harder to do so the more you see him.

You can’t avoid him, you’d be breaking your promise to Megumi.

Everything left unsaid lingers in the distance you keep with him, and it unsheathes it’s claws, digging into you and tearing you apart. Your relationship with Gojo is strained. It hurts because he’s your best friend.

The woman reminds you that there’s no one to blame but yourself.

She hasn’t left you alone since the night of the party, tied to you like some kind of curse. She appears in the mirror when you criticize yourself, egging you on to say worse things. She stands by your side when you make a mistake, degrading you until you feel like nothing.

She’s having the time of her life. You just can’t get rid of her. She’s right about you.

This time, as you stand waiting for Megumi, his school is decorated in a plethora of pinks, reds, and whites. Valentine’s Day is swiftly approaching and it fills you with a kind of bitterness you keep hidden. 

Cupid’s arrows might have missed you this year, but there’s always the next.

Part of you realizes that it’s your own fault, waiting for Gojo to step up and say something. When that failed you, you waited for your feelings to disappear. Perhaps, you should have taken some initiative, forced those feelings out of you until every last remaining bit is ripped from your heart.

Your loneliness is your own doing. The woman laughs in agreement, your pain is nothing but a joke to her. Her laughter, however, is hollow and doesn't meet her eyes.

Megumi runs up to you as he often does, pulling you from your thoughts. The woman hides away to watch. He hands you a little heart shaped box and a card. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Megumi grumbles, walking off ahead of you to get to the car. You smile down at the chocolates and the handmade card. Something tender and sweet fills up your chest—you feel lighthearted. 

‘Do you deserve this?’ the woman snarls, reaching out to knock your gifts out of your hands. You hold them away from her poisonous touch.

Megumi holds onto your index finger as you lead him up the stairwell to Gojo’s apartment. You’re surprised to find him inside instead of at class, like he should be. He grins at you and Megumi as you both walk inside, his eyes dropping to the card and chocolates in your hand.

You watch as he stands up, stretching his arms up. His shirt rides up around his waist, you turn away faster than light.

“You got her something for Valentine’s but nothing for your old man?” he asks, grabbing Megumi so that he can plant a kiss on the boy’s chubby cheek.

“You suck and she doesn’t.”

“You are so cruel.”

Your relationship with Gojo remains rocky, but times like these still make you yearn for that domestic life. Sometime in the future, you hope you get to have this. 

Gojo lets Megumi disappear into his room, watching you sink into the couch. He follows suit, sitting down next to you. He leaves too much space between you, like there’s an invisible wall keeping him out. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up,” he says, though you don’t know what for. You want to say that you know, that it doesn’t matter to you unless you’re spending the day with him. 

“Yeah, but why would I care?” you reply, laughing though the sound comes out bitter and hurt. He grins at you, tilting his head. 

“Who knows? Maybe you have a secret admirer.”

You stay quiet for a moment, thinking about what he had said. Secret admirer or not, you’re confident it wouldn’t be the person you want. Gojo has better things to do, probably has someone to see. What would he want with you?

Why would he even look your way? You’re his best friend—that’s where you have remained for 14 years and it’s where you’ll remain for as long as you know him.

The woman sits to your left, reaching out her hand to smooth down your hair. Her gesture appears comforting but anxiety swirls deep within you at her touch.

‘Don’t let him know how you feel,’ she whispers in warning.

“So? I don’t care. I don’t like anyone right now, a secret admirer would mean nothing to me.”

“Oh.”

You face him then, taking in the soft frown he wears. His jaw is clenched, brows furrowed. The blue of his eyes, your favorite blue, lacks it’s usual sparkle. His shoulders hunched over; Gojo looks like a wounded animal. He looks tired. 

As soon as he notices your stare, he straightens up and gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He stays quiet for the rest of the night and you can’t help but feel it’s your fault. You remind yourself he’s tired, but the woman tells you that he must have remembered the events from the party. 

You leave his house sooner than you would have liked. Gojo says goodbye with a hug, his arms squeezing you tight, pressing you to his chest until you can hear his heart beating. 

-: ✧ :-

You feel like Valentine’s Day crept up on you too quickly, like you had blinked and suddenly the world is celebrating their lovers. 

It’s sunny and warm, the usual chill of February replaced with a gentle breeze that feels soft against your cheek and in your hair. Like it’s mother nature’s gentle caress letting you know that you’ll be fine today.

The woman stays quiet. 

You walk along the sidewalk in front of your apartment building. You had woken up today expecting something at you front door, perhaps from a secret admirer like Gojo had suggested. Nothing came.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth, your chest tightening, but you got over it as fast as it came. You refuse to fester in hurt, even if the woman fans the flames of your pain.

Blinking up at the sun, you watch the old couple across the street walk arm in arm. The old man had gotten his wife a bouquet of her favorite flowers (you know they’re her favorite because she told you so). She’s wearing a new heart pendant around her neck. Their hands remain intertwined as they head down. 

You silently plead for your chance at love. 

Today, Megumi’s spending the day at Nanami’s house, along with a few of the kids he tutors. You’ve been absolved of your babysitting responsibilities. You miss the little boy, though.

You’re only a few minutes into your walk when you phone buzzes with a text from Gojo.

gojo 🤑: ur not busy today right?????? lets go for a drive bbg 😉

you:  i wish i never met you.

You hardly mean it. Rather, you’re incredibly relieved that he’s back to his usual self, using horrible emojis to spice up his texts. You hate to admit it but you missed him. 

Maybe you were pathetic for spending Valentine’s Day with your crush, a man who remains just out of your reach. You don’t dwell on it as you climb into Gojo’s car, even when the woman bares her teeth at you.

Gojo plays sickeningly romantic music as he drives, making fun of you for spending valentine’s day with him instead of a boyfriend. You’re quick to remind him that he’s in the same position. He falls silent but you notice that the shine in his sky blue eyes are back. You hope, this time, that it’s here to stay. 

He parks a few feet away from a playground, the structures old and somewhat rusty. You realize that it’s the playground where you both first met each other. 

Gojo runs over to your side, opening the door for you. He walks next to you, his shoulder brushing yours, your fingers aching to be held by him. You let him pull you to the spot where his mother took a picture of both of you 14 years ago. 

It’s certainly strange being back here.

You hear him take a deep breath. Gojo’s facing forward, seemingly entranced by the swing-set in front of him. You don’t take notice of his shaky hands. 

“You were the prettiest girl I had ever seen,” he says finally, breathing deeply once again. “Actually– I thought you were the prettiest girl in the whole world.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask with a soft laugh, utterly confused as to what he’s up to. Gojo doesn’t respond, he just keeps going.

“I ran into you on purpose, if I’m being honest. I thought we could become friends and then I’d get to be around you all the time.” 

Gojo reaches out his hand, hesitating as he thinks. The woman stays quiet when he takes your hand in his own. “But then you basically told me to fuck off–”

“I did not! I said go away or something.”

“Thats basically what kids say when they want to say ‘Fuck off’!”

He laughs, the sound warming your heart. Soft tendrils of sun peek through the canopy of the tree you stand under, making him glow and shine. He appears almost ethereal. 

“I was glad we got to be friends,” he mutters, his grip around your fingers getting tighter. “But nowadays, I kind of wish we weren’t.” Your heart stills and the woman opens her mouth for the first time today, conjuring up her ugly words.

“You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” Gojo admits, his hand growing clammy but you barely notice it. “You’ll stay that way for the rest of my life—even when we’re old and wrinkly.”

“How sweet,” you grin, but it’s a front to hide the way he tugs at your heart, gentle hands keeping you in his grasp; it’s where you’ll stay for as long as he’ll have you. However, you still find yourself to be guarded, hesitant about Gojo and his words.

The woman tells you it’s not what you think it is. Her past misfortunes flood your mind, her sadness is contagious.

Gojo finally faces you, taking both your hands in his. His eyes watch you carefully and you wonder if he can see through them, see the woman waiting inside, hurt and scared. 

“I know you said you don’t have feelings for anyone,” he starts, looking to the side. You can feel his heart beating at his fingertips. “And I’m probably the last person you want to hear this from, but I owe it to you.

“I love you,” he sighs and it feels like taking a breath of relief. Gojo searches your eyes, vivid cerulean brighter than the sun itself. You reach forward, hands on either side of his face. You tremble and you shake—you can’t believe this is real.

He seems to understand, instinctively letting his hands rest against your hips. 

“Love you too,” you say, unadulterated joy lighting up your chest and your eyes. Your smile is blinding, cheeks hiding your eyes. Gojo steps closer while he pulls you against his chest. His heart is racing, but it could be your own that you’re feeling. You’re not quite sure where he ends and you begin. 

He cups your cheek, his touch soft and light. “Can I kiss you now? I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the party.”

You tense at the mention of the party, but you nod your head and shove that night out of your mind. You can shelve that conversation for later. 

Gojo leans forward with your nod, pulling you towards him. Your lips meet, gently at first, like you’re both unsure of how to go about it. He’s hesitant without alcohol to grant him courage, but as you wrap your arms around his neck, he grows bolder.

Gojo pours every last bit of his desire for you, his yearning for you, past his lips. You can feel him grin, and it pulls a smile from you too. 

You have him exactly where you want him.

When you return home, hand in hand, Megumi perks up at the sight of you both. Getou sits next to him, assigned to pick him up from Nanami’s place after Gojo decided to meet up with you.

Getou raises an eyebrow at your hand held tightly in Gojo’s, your head resting against his shoulder. “What did i miss?”

“Nothing at all,” you reply, holding out an arm for megumi as he runs into your embrace.

The woman simply smiles.

-: ✧ :-

Gojo watches you sleep, chest rising and falling steadily, your soft breaths being the only sound in the room. He sits and he admires and he’s struck with the overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms. Gojo wishes he could tell you everything he feels for you, but his emotions are often illegible jumbles of yearning, want, desire, and love—he just can’t put it into words.

He knows you’re it for him. He hopes you feel the same.

Gojo leans over and grabs the plastic water bottle left on his nightstand, the plastic crinkling. He winces, hoping it’s not loud enough to wake you. You remain sleeping and he smiles, fishing the small ring of plastic from the top of the bottle. 

It’s big, the real one will be tailored to your size, he thinks as he takes your hand. His touch is gentle as he slides the plastic ring onto your ring finger, watching it hang loosely.

“This’ll do for now,” he decides. the real one will be much prettier, but not grand. A shiny band with a few rhinestones– no, your birthstone. Maybe his too but he feels that might be too tacky.

Gojo lays back down, curling around you until his head is hidden in the crook of your neck. He hopes you’ll like it. He hopes you’ll say yes. 

He’s always loved you. For him, it’s always been you. 

thanks to mitzi and earth and six for hyping this monstrosity up so glad its not rotting away in my drafts anymore

---

« i will continue to love you in every timeline. »

SUKUNA SAVING YOUR LIFE

synopsis: this is based on this random thought.

a/n: this was way harder than i thought it'd be. and it took so much longer than i planned. (i even worked on it during my lectures i just couldn't get it OUT OF MY MIND). anyway, i hope you enjoy it!!!

the curse had come out of nowhere.

you'd been celebrating your victory of successfully eliminating the threat of the grade one curse with your classmates, when all of a sudden, an overwhelming surge of energy knocked the four of you to the ground.

it didn't take long for you to find yourself trapped in the special curse's domain, unable to move due to the sheer pressure of its presence. and it took even less for the three of you to become on the verge of exhaustion, able to barely fight by just for your survival.

"(y/n)! fall back!" you can barely make out megumi's urgent voice before the attack is sent your way, hitting you square in the spine.

the breath is knocked out of your lungs, your mouth opening in a silent scream. unbearable heat and discomfort surges through your bones, incapacitating you.

your hands are trembling, your vision is blurry. around you, the whole world is muffled, like a pillow settling over your five senses. the world is tinted red, and oh? was that a pool of blood increasing in volume with each passing moment?

you struggle to stand up, using whatever strength in your hands to raise yourself up, to keep fighting. if you fall that means you had failed your friends. nobara was already lying unconscious, yuuji and megumi ganging up against the special grade curse.

with shaking legs, you struggle to stand, to balance yourself. but you finally raise your head, bringing your crossed fingers in front of your temple, gathering all your strength into this finally attack.

you accumulate enough cursed energy, feeling your whole body draining, until all at once you release it, and it unleashes stronger than any attack you had ever made.

you were sure, this would hurt the curse badly, enough to create an opening for your friends to finish it off. you and the boys watch it as it finally reaches the curse, the force wave washing over it, you can see yuuji gathering his black flash, ready to take it down—

the curse stands still as the attack washes over it, it sets aflame, and you hear its terrible pained screeches. relief washes over you, the ghost of a smile making its way into your face.

until the flames die out all at once, and the curse slowly, almost comically, turns around. it's previous mocking face was all but gone now. replaced by an ugly frown, it looks angry. and it was looking straight at you.

your eyes widen, hands shaking in disbelief. you can't control the exhaustion as the aftermath washes over you, can't control your trembling lips as you finally collapse.

and then the fear, because you know it's making its way towards you, you know megumi and yuuji won't have time to hold it back. and you really don't want to die, not this soon. you have to move out of its way, but you're on your knees, watching helplessly as it dashes towards you.

unbeknownst to you, at that same moment, excruciating pain surges through yuuji's head. his hands fly up to clutch at his temples as he doubles over.

"get yourself together, we have to help (y/n)!" megumi yells but he knows it's no use, the curse had already crossed half the distance, it was going to get her, and only yuuji's supernatural strength is on par with its own, but he was busy having a migraine—

"he wants to come out!" yuuji finally yells, and in the next instant the all-familiar black tattoos slowly appear on his skin.

he begins growing in size as sukuna takes over his body. megumi couldnt believe his eyes. he had to help (y/n), why the hell did sukuna make an appearance at a time like this? he grits his teeth, taking his defensive stance, but sukuna doesn’t even glance at him.

he dashes towards (y/n), and megumi would have never believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes, but he stands between (y/n) and the curse.

with one swish of his claws the special curse they had almost been killed by is split in half.

there's rage in sukuna's face, rage that freezes megumi on his spot. a manic glint in his eyes as he pounces on the curse and rips it to shreds, even when it is clearly dead.

and when he’s done with it, as he turns around and kneels before you, that rage is nowhere to be seen.

instead, you are sitting there on your knees as you watch it unfold, certain that once the king of curses turns around, you were the one about to be ripped into pieces.

instead he's kneeling in front of you, a conflicted, almost gentle look on his usually demonic features as his large hand reaches out to you, before he stops mid-way.

and you realize with a jolt, that the great curse before you is hesitating.

you feel your heart beating wildly against your chest. you are afraid, very much so. he was so big, so animalistic. with his outstretched claws, his four eyes and his sharp fangs when he opened his mouth only to close it again.

suddenly you feel the tears running down your cheeks, and his eyes soften at the sight.

he isn't hesitant anymore when his hands, with the sheer strength you knew he possessed, wipe away at your tears so gently, so softly, cradling your face as if you were made of glass.

and when he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, you refuse to believe this is reality.

when he pulls away, its yuuji facing you with an incredulous look on his face. and you realize with another jolt, that with his kiss, sukuna had healed all your wounds.

you're left speechless, staring into the eyes of your pink-haired friend as if he had suddenly grown another head. he looks back at you with the same look.

***

a week has passed.

you were growing impatient, but you were also scared.

impatient because yuuji was banned from seeing anyone after his latest 'slip-up'. scared because even though you wanted an explanation for what happened, you feared what it could mean.

however, you should've known better than to assume this presumed ban would last any longer. it took only for gojo-sensei to burst into your room for you to understand his intentions.

"wanna go see sukuna-kun?"

you flush at his insinuation. to be fair, you preferred these jabs to be directed in front of your face rather than behind it. it was what everyone was speaking about, anyways. how you had somehow seduced him.

jujutsu sorcerers were truly insane, in more ways than one.

but that was at the very back of your head. as you follow your very tall sensei through the hallways, you finally reach yuuji's room.

as soon as gojo slams open the door, yuuji jumps up from his bed.

"i swear i have him under control. he just went all crazy and started torturing me from the inside. he made a pact and he only wanted to save (y/n)—"

yuuji stops as soon as he spots you.

you pale. so, it really was true. he didn't, say, hold a grudge against that particular curse, or he didn't feel bloodthirsty all of a sudden. no, but of course not, he had healed you after.

he had wiped away your fearful tears.

"yuuji-kun!" gojo-sensei suddenly exclaims. "do whatever (y/n) tells you to do." and with that, he leaves the both of you together, closing the door behind him with a slam.

"are you okay?" yuuji is the first one to break the silence.

you shake your head, "i am fine," you say lowly, "are you?" you ask him sincerely. this was, after all, the first time you'd seen each other after that dreadful mission.

he flashes you a wary smile, his hand flying to rub the back of his head. “well… ” he starts. “it’s been, strange.”

“what do you mean?”

yuuji’s face is serious when he replies. “he’s been awfully quiet.”

you don’t know how to react to that information, but you can’t help but look away.

you’re now both sitting on yuuji’s bed, knees almost touching. instinctively, you grab his hand with yours and squeeze it.

“that’s a good thing, no?”

“well, yes.” he turns to fully face you. “but he’s never this quiet. he’s always spouting insults and threats, this silence is…unnerving.”

you hum. “i see.” you nod, thinking of the best course of action. “i need to speak to him.”

the words surprised you as much as it surprised him.

“uh-oh, no well in hell.”

“you heard what gojo-sensei said, do whatever i say.”

“i am sure he didn’t mean letting out the king of curses.”

“i am sure that’s exactly what he meant.” and you were very sure. knowing your sensei, he must have known that this is eventual what you would want to do. which is exactly why he uttered that last command to yuuji.

yuuji thrashes around, muttering about how irresponsible and stupid you were being, you didn't disagree, but you stood your ground. with your arms crossed over your chest, your deadpan face finaly drives yuuji to agree.

"fine!" he finally concedes. "but you get ten seconds with him."

you laugh humorlessly, "two minutes."

"you're mad," yuuji shook his head. "i'll give you one minute, but the second i sense malicious intent i am switching."

you nod. "fair enough."

and as yuuji steps back and closes his eyes, you start to panic. what exaclty were you going to do once you face him???

you had no time to think as yuuji starts growing in size, the black tattoos appearing slowly on his skin.

and when narrowed, red eyes glare back at you, you take a deep, shaken breath.

he does nothing but stare at you. you don't miss the way his eyes scan your body, or how his displeased frown only seems to grow by the second. his overwhelming presence takes over your senses. an aura of destruction and death fills the room, and it becomes harder to see anything past the fear clouding your thoughts.

"what do you want, brat?"

somehow, hearing those words helps to calm your nerves. even if they were spoken with such disdain and displeasure. it was the indication you needed to be certain he wasn't going to attack you.

but deep down, you knew all along that he wouldn't hurt you. not really, anyway.

despite every fiber in your being telling you to take a step back, you take one step forward with shaky legs.

he seems taken aback, and if you weren't hyper aware of every slight movement he made, you would've missed the slight inhale of breath when you took another step forward.

"you have some nerve, to stand unarmed before me." he says sowly. "if this were anyone else—"

he realizes his mistake and stops. his jaw is harshly set, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. if this were anyone else.

"i know you." you finally say the words that have been plaguing you all week.

sukuna freezes. three, simple words rendering him in a state of disarray he hadn't experienced in hundreds of years. it was all he could to maintain the scowl on his face, the leer as he looked at this woman to whom he had given out his heart so, so, many years before.

he barely remembered her, and it made him all the more pissed. why would such a puny, tiny, (beautiful) creature make him, this confused? this obsessive, this protective?

he hadn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since he first saw you through the eyes of yuuji. something in him stirred, something he had long lost. but of course, he ignored the jabs he could feel every time you got yourself hurt. he didn't care. he never did.

so why had he gone feral when you had laid there, on the brink of death? the thought of losing you, of your death. it was suffocating, unbearable, he couldn't allow it. he didn't allow it. did he?

and this was why you were here, standing so close to him. loooking at him with those big (e/c) eyes that searched his for answers. you look so soft, so weak compared to his strength; he knew he could kill you with one swipe of his claws. the thought, however, didn't entice him one bit.

and then you spoke those words. i know you. and it was as if you had read him perfectly, saw right through him. understood exactly what was going on here.

"you know me too." it wasn't a question.

your voice was so low, so shaky, but not uncertain. you suddenly wanted to touch his rough skin with your own, to close the distance and feel him. how was it, that one felt affection for a monster?

"you need to stay away from me," he says, and your eyes find his. they were pained, but stern.

"why?"

"because i am a curse." he steps closer, and you realize with a jolt how close he was to you, how, if anyone of you takes one step closer, your chests would collide. "isn't that common knowledge for you troublesome sorcerers?"

and then his hands hover again, just like they did back then when he saved you. and even if he does hesitate like last time, this time, he continues. until his finger is on your face.

gently, slowly. one finger, and then the rest follow as he cradles your cheek.

the breath has long been knocked out of you. he towers over you and you're frozen. how can a beast such as him gaze at you with such longing?

"why do i know you?" you whisper, and he gently shakes his head.

the movement is slow as his eyes roam your face, until they finally settle on your lips. he slowly brings his thumb to brush over your lips.

your heart almost burst through your chest. your lips slightly part.

you can't move, not under his gaze. not when he was this big, this magnificent.

all too soon, he pulls away.

"never seek me out again." he says. you panic, hands reaching out to stop him as he steps away.

but you were too late, yuuji's confused face staring back you.

***

you toss and turn in your bed that night.

a simple moment you'd spent with him, and it had completely taken over your thoughts.

despite your better judgment, for the nth time that day, your fingers ghost over your lips.

you could still feel his touch, hot and hiding a secret you wished to unfold.

who were you to him in your past life? you shudder at the possibilities, at the truth you saw in his rough, yet sincere gaze.

eyes softening at the reminder, you hug your pillow tighter to your chest, as you let out a defeated sighed.

until they suddenly harden upon the following events.

somehow, the higher ups had gotten wind of the situation. you were summoned immediately after departing from yuuji's room.

"this is an unprecedent case," they had said.

"you do understand the importance of this task, don't you, (l/n)?"

"make sure to earn the affection of the king of curses, that way, we might finally be able to control him."

what did they expect you to do? you were barely able to get a minute to speak with him, let alone earn his affection. whatever that meant.

amidst your jumbled thoughts, a yawn makes its way to your mouth. you feel the fatigue washing over you. tapping on your phone screen, it lights up. 2:47, it says. you really should sleep.

but just as soon as you start closing your eyes, your phone starts buzzing non-stop.

annoyed, but more so alarmed, you quickly reach out for your phone. it was yuuji who was blowing up your phone.

pink-haired dork:

(Y/N)!!

he's killing me

he wants to see you

he's demanding to see you

(y/n) i want to see you too, something has happened i need to tell u.

don't come to my room we're both being watched.

(y/n) are u here??? wake up!!!!

you sit up straight, staring at the screen apprehensively. your fingers begin tapping away.

what do u mean we're being watched?? wth

your phone buzzes instantly.

pink haired dork:

megumi told me. he and nobara overheard a conversation earlier. we didn't understand what it meant but i think sukuna does.

he's been pestering me for hours but he just told me it means you're in danger

your confusion increases as you begin to reply.

and you believe him?

pink-haired dork:

i can't risk not to. if this true, (y/n), then we need to get you out of here.

before you can reply, your phone buzzes again.

meet me by the fountain in 15

climb out of the window.

DON'T USE THE DOOR

THEY'RE WATCHING IT

it wasn't that you didn't believe him, this was a hundred percent a scenario you should have seen coming. the higher ups would take advantage of any situation if it meant gaining an advantage over a curse. what you were doubtful again, was the sukuna part.

you don't think too much as you sneak out, not wanting to make yuuji wait out in the cold. you wear a jacket and rush out into the chilly night, being extra careful not to make any sound.

you spot him pacing back and forth besides the fountain. once he hears you coming, he lifts his head. the next moment he was dragging you by the wrist to a more scheduled spot in the garden.

"yuuji what—"

he shushes you, until you reach the location hidden by overgrown trees and vines. "we can't risk anyone seeing us together," yuuji says. "we can't anyone see you near him."

"i got that, but why? what happened?"

"by the ocean's might she was reaped. the devil's claw invincible after an era of peace. the skies welcomed his calamity. against the cruel sorcerers he swore his wrath. the world shall never again know peace shall she be reborn.''

the words were suddenly spoken from yuuji's cheek.

yuuji only nods. as if you were supposed to understand what that meant.

"what does that even mean?" you cross your arms over your chest. and when yuuji only looks as confused as you, you frown.

"this is what megumi and nobara overheard, and sukuna is saying—"

"so you don't know what it mean?"

"no. but he does."

"so tell him to explain!!"

"he won't, unless i let him out."

"let him out then!" you finally retort. you see yuuji falter, you understand his hesitance. but if sukuna wanted to hurt you, he would have already, wouldn't he?

"okey, okey. just be careful alright?" he sends you a stern look. all you could so is nod as you prepare yourself for another showdown with the king of curses.

and once he stands before you in all his glory, you realize this is a bit easier than last time. after all, he was the one who wanted to see you.

"i thought you said, 'never seek me out again'" you make a terrible impression of his previous order.

a big mistake.

you blink and you're pushed on the ground, his hand wrapped around your throat. he was only lightly squeezing, but with his intimidating form leering over you, his fangs barred inches away from your face, you can't help the fear that crawls into your senses.

"know your place, brat." he whispers into your ear. goosebumps erupt against your skin. you can't believe how fast he was, you didn't even see him coming.

you glare at him, trying to wiggle out, but he overpowered you compeltely.

"let me go," you meekly say, looking up into his eyes.

he had already been staring at you intensely, no, not you. your lips. you suck in a shaky breath. in this compromising position, it wasn't difficult to assume what he was thinking about.

"what are you doing?" your voice, barely a whisper.

and then his eyes look up at you, focused on you. "if you'll allow me, i'll make you remember."

you don't know how to answer because you don't understand what he's saying. you also can't form words, they stay, stuck in your throat. and he can see you’re confused, so he decides to show you what he meant.

he leans his whole body in. his breath fans your face. his presence consumes you, he was everywhere. you couldn’t nt ignore it even if you wanted, how his lips were grazing yours, how you knew if you didnt stop this—

you turn your face away. "no!"

"you don't really have a choice, sweetheart."

and you really don't know what he's going to do to you. and you're really scared. and you're trapped, and helpless. and you're wondering why yuuji isn't switching back. you can only close your eyes and await what's to come.

you were expecting a lot of things, but sukuna gently kissing you wasn't one of them.

his rough lips move against yours. a small peck, at first, as if testing, and when you relax into his touch, (a rush of warmth curses through you, as if this is exactly where you need to be), he molds his lips on yours. his hands that had left your neck land softly on your cheeks, in your hair.

and when his gentle ministrations continue, you finally understand what he meant.

you think he had imbued some cursed energy into the kiss, because suddenly the memories come crashing on you.

you see yourself, but not quite you, loving him. not his human form, no. you had loved him as a curse. you see yourself living with him, chastising him against hurting humans. and he listens. for a decade you lived together.

until he had gotten you pregnant. and that's when the jujutsu sorceress of that era had come together. they had ignored your dallying with the curse because it had benefitted them. the biggest threat to them had been tamed by you, after all.

by when they heard news of your condition it was decided. you could not bring his child into the world. a hybrid, an abnormality. they couldn't risk this unpreceded situation from unfolding.

and so they drowned you when sukuna was away, with your unborn child. sukuna came back to find your body floating lifeless ashore. and the sorceress ambushed him then.

in his grief he was overpowered, and despite killing every last one of them, he was still sealed away.

when the vision stop and you're back to reality, you come face to face with a sukuna watching you intently, with concern flashing on his face.

tears were streaming down your face.

"the world shall never again know peace shall she be reborn.'' he whispers. "a mother's wrath born and unseen, awaiting endless moon cycles to be unleashed."

"that's the rest of the prophecy." he pulls away completely, leaving you lying there, consumed by an overwhelming feeling of grief. "they believe you will avenge what happened once i restore your memories, this is why they're discussing what to do with you."

sukuna might have pulled away, doing nothing but staring as your tears fell, but it was taking him everything not to wrap his arms around you, to comfort you and tell you he'll never let those bastards touch you. never again.

and then you sit up and look at him, with those big eyes he had once worshipped. you don't say anything, processing what he had just told you.

the elders want you dead because of a baseless 'prophecy'? how absurd. how utterly foolish.

but you can't help but be scared. they had killed you once. or, even if that wasn't really you, it certainly felt like it. you rub your shoulders, trembling and whimpering.

and then sukuna can't hold back anymore. he makes his way to you, and takes both your hands with his. he squeezes tightly, tighter than he intended.

"no one will hurt you again, or i'll kill them." he says, and watches as your eyes widen, as the tension in your shoulders dissipates, even if by just a little.

because you know. you can feel the truth in his world. he was't going to let anyone harm you ever again. and you weren't sure if that thought ought to comfort you or scare you to the bone.

a/n: i might do a part 2??? there’s just so much sexual tension between them that deserves to be….written about XD

taglist: (everyone who liked/reblogged the prompt) (the ones i could tag anyway) (faceless blogs ignored)

@multiple-fandom-here-wego @odwashere @nikster1111 @dellalyra @shigaraki-b @omgher @minjilovers @scarletbedlam @moonseye @honeyhoneyyyyyy @manjiros-wifey @zoeylunar @soheexxe @gimyeongbestboymain @incognitoowl @ipandora001 @eymahys @imvivian @1-800-mika @stareatch @odwashere @weirdnewbie @bulletinreporter @sukustar @17cherries @sofdah11 @kenmaslittlebrat @dabishotgf @xoiajules

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More MHA guys when you sneeze:

The kitten sneeze (tiny puffs of air that make up a kitten sneeze)

All-Might: At first he's confused, "Are you alright?", but when he finds out it was your sneeze the guy is trying not to blush.

Aizawa: This man loves anything cats, so to hear you do a kitten sneeze, tired or not this man will instantly cuddle you, even if you don't like too much contact.

Mic: Has to keep you away from Aizawa, but low key finds it adorable compared to his loud attitude.

Dabi: I see him staring at you blankly after you do your sneeze, before smirking and mentioning how you sound to innocent for your own good.

Twice: The man is giving you heart eyes, but says nothing else positive.

Mr. Compress: Being the gentleman he is, he gives you some kleenex, only to gently kiss you and tell you your sneeze is cute.

Spinner: I mean, the lizard guy was not expecting you to sound so cute. "You're cute when you sneeze."

Kurogiri: Despite his misty appearance, you can see that he's amused with your sound.

Shigaraki: "What the he'll was that?" "My sneeze." "Your sneeze? Sounds like a cat!" Is actually hiding the fact it sounded cute.

Overhaul: He would hand you a tissue whilst making sure the area is clean of infection, but likes the cute little sneeze nonetheless.

Hawks: "Are you a cat now?" He teases, while you tell him to shut up, but is geeking out over the cute sneeze.

Natsuo: "Here I have a loud sneeze and you sound like a cat." He teases as you grumble.

Endeavor: He acts like he doesn't care for your sneeze, and glares at you.

Fatgum: Is chuckling at your face when you realize he heard it, "You're cute."

Sir Nighteye: I mean, when is this man not around you? He seems to edge you into sneezing by rubbing his nose and causing a reaction from you because it sounds so cute.

The trumpet sneeze (A sneeze so loud it could blow ear drums):

All-Might: "Welp, Deku just ran away screaming." He jokes.

Aizawa: "I swear, you sneeze one more time while I'm napping, I'll tie you to the couch as punishment."

Mic: "Oh cool, you sneeze like me!"

Dabi: "You done being loud, babe?"

Twice: "I think I lost a clone in the earthquake."

Mr. Compress: "You alright? That sounded like it hurt."

Spinner: "Ah, I better calm the rupture you caused."

Kurogiri: His misty eyes don't say much but you can tell he's annoyed.

Shigaraki: "Do that again and I swear you'll regret it."

Overhaul: "That it? I'm expecting the tsunami to come ruin the base soon."

Hawks: He accidentally shot you with some of his feathers out of instinct (which he kept apologizing about)

Natsuo: "Hey, we have the same sneeze! But I think you're a hack of a lot louder."

Endeavor: You have been thrown out of his office on more than one occasion, now only getting a look when he sees you start up.

Fatgum: "Welp, there goes Tamaki out the door from your noise."

Sir Nighteye: "That it? I swear a train just hit the building."

The eardrum blower (You go to sneeze and plug your nose at the last second, how you haven't blown your eardrums is amazing):

All-Might: He was immediately concerned for yoyr well being, even after you tried to console him.

Aizawa: "Right, now sneeze like a normal person." "That was normal." "No, that wasn't normal, that was you asking for your eardrums to blow."

Mic: "Doesn't that hurt, babe?"

Dabi: "You trying to communicate with the dead?" "What kind of a joke is that?" "One that says stop doing it."

Twice: He had to stop asking after having multiple clones killed in a rage after having upset you.

Mr. Compress: "My love, doesn't that hurt?"

Spinner: "I would cut that out now."

Kurogiri: "I will send you into another room if you start to sneeze like that again."

Shigaraki: "I'm worried now. When did this start?"

Overhaul: "As long as you're not destroying my office with that sneeze it's fine."

Hawks: "Baby! Don't sneeze like that!"

Natsuo: "You're annoying, you know?"

Endeavor: You were relieved when he ignored you, until you were constantly being forced to sneeze normally.

Fatgum: "Dear, don't sneeze that way."

Sir Nighteye: "I will count to ten and you better have an explanation on why you're trying to blow your eardrums.

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