ccosmobliss
𝗟𝗔𝗩 ! ✶
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Credits: @poemale — ☆
ིྀྀ ౨ৎ ꣑𓍢 ❜୧ ୨୧ 𐙚᭄
^᪲᪲᪲ ೀ ೨౿ ᠀𓏲 ϑ𐑞 ꣑୧ ︶ིྀᩧ
𐙚 ೇ 𑁥౿ ꢾ𓍢ִ໋ 𐒘𝛠 ϑℓ ၄၃
ꔫ ^ྀི᪲ ୭ৎ 𝝑𓏲 𝝑𝝔 𝝑𝑒 ⪩⪨
ᤣ९ ◌⃘ꔫ ໑᱖ ୨𓏲̼ 𝟅𝟈 𝝑୧ 𓍼
੭̲᱖ ꪆৎ 𑁥𓍢 𝞋𝞎 𝜗𝜚 ၇⃪⃖ꪆ୧
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— Minimalist symbols 𖹭
｡𖦹°‧ ｡⋆୨୧˚ ๋࣭⭑ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆｡°✩
⋆♱✮♱⋆
౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ᯓ★ 𓂃 ࣪˖
ִֶָ𐀔 ₊˚⊹ᰔ
₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ ᝰ.ᐟ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ๋࣭
⭑ (> . ✩)
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—DIVIDERS
︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶
꒷⏝꒷꒦꒷⏝꒷꒦꒷⏝꒷꒷⏝꒷꒦꒷⏝꒷꒦꒷⏝꒷
︶𝆹𝅥⏝ ◦ 𑁍 ◦ ︶𝆹𝅥⏝
₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
➽──────────────❥
࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙ ⪩⪨ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚
୨ㅤ࣪ㅤ︶︶︶︶ㅤㅤ꒰୨ ୧꒱ㅤㅤ︶︶︶︶ㅤ࣪ㅤ୧
─ִ━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─
︶︶︶ 𔓕 ︶︶ ୨୧ ︶︶ 𔓕 ︶︶︶
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆
︵︵ ⊹ ︵ ୨·୧ ︵ ⊹ ︵︵
◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤
☆ミ ☆彡 ☆ミ ☆彡 ☆ミ ☆彡 ☆ミ ☆彡
╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴
꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
|××××××××××|××××××××××|____________☾༺☆༻☽____________
✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧
𐃬𐃬𐃬𐃬𐃬 ୨୧ 𐃬𐃬𐃬𐃬𐃬
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞ ୨୧ ‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞
◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟
⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹
ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂
───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────
╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿
─═──═──═──═──═──═──═──═──═─
⊹₊ ︵︵︵﹒໒·͜:)𑇓ㅤ﹒︵︵︵ ₊˚⊹
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ｡- ༝ -｡ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱
͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ ︶𝅄⏝ ͝
: ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :
ততততততততততততততততততততততততত
⏜︵⏜︵⏜ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⏜︵⏜︵⏜
୨ㅤ࣪ㅤ︶︶︶︶ㅤㅤ꒰୨ ୧꒱ㅤㅤ︶︶︶︶ㅤ࣪ㅤ୧
꒰ ⋆ .⺌ ⟡ ⊂⊃ ⟡ ⺌. ⋆ ꒱
︶𝆹𝅥⏝ ◦ 𑁍 ◦ ︶𝆹𝅥⏝
︶⊹︶︶︶♡︶︶︶⊹︶
꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚૮꒰˵•ᵜ•˵꒱ა‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷
▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀
︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶ ｡˚
꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷
──────────.★.──────────
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦
ɷ( ' ' )ɷ : ⊹ ̟˖ ⁀꒷꒦ ꒰꒰ ⊹꒷︶
︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・
︶��︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶
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dividers + symbol pack
﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒〇﹒ıllı﹒ᶻz﹒⊂⊃﹒␥﹒⿸﹒ꔠ﹒✶﹒◍﹒▿﹒⤸﹒⬚﹒៶៸﹒△﹒→﹒✶﹒（）﹒▥﹒▤﹒▦﹒▧﹒▨﹒▩﹒░﹒▒﹒▓﹒⿴﹒◫﹒⬚﹒▣﹒≧≦﹒ㄑ﹒⎙﹒➜﹒★﹒⨳﹒✿﹒❀﹒✶﹒✸﹕☆﹒◐﹒◉ ﹒◖◗﹒▽﹒ᶻz﹒‹𝟹﹒♡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒﹫﹒⿴﹒→﹒☓﹕ᵔᴗᵔ﹒⺌﹒⪩⪨﹒◎﹒⊹﹒ᶻ﹕→ ．(＞。☆)﹔⇆﹒ꜛ﹒░﹒❥﹒？﹒！﹒◍﹒﹏﹒✦﹒⟡﹒＞＜﹒◌﹒⿴﹒✧﹒𖥔﹒%﹒﹙﹚﹒◜◡◝﹒ꜝꜝ﹒⟡﹒⪩⪨﹒☓﹒⬦﹒✦﹒◈﹒✶﹒⬙﹒⟡﹒⇆﹒♡﹒﹢﹒ᶻ﹒✹﹒﹢﹒✶﹑〇﹐罒﹢♡﹒⇆﹑⬚﹐ᶻ﹒❀﹐✶﹒▹﹒◖﹒✩﹒∇﹒▨﹐◌﹐❀﹒⿴﹒✿﹢﹐░﹒ᶻz﹐☆﹒⊂⊃﹑ⵌ﹒▦﹒✿﹒⺌﹒◂﹒⿴﹒❰❰﹒♡﹒ᶻz﹒❥﹒⩇﹒⊞﹐ʬʬ﹒♢﹐ᐢ..ᐢ﹐✩﹒ᶻz﹒❥﹒⟡﹒✷﹒✕﹐〇﹐✿﹒Ꜣ﹒⟡﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹒♡﹐≋﹒⊂⊃﹒ᐢᗜᐢ﹒❀﹒﹢﹒⇵﹒⪨﹕↺﹐✿﹒Ꜣ﹒✶﹐≋﹒⇆﹐ʬʬ﹒﹗﹐➜﹒⬦﹕ᶻz﹒✦﹒﹢﹒▢﹒░﹒⭔﹒ʬʬ﹒✿﹒☰﹐◖◗﹒？﹒✶﹒﹏﹒ꕀ﹑ᵔᴗᵔ﹒ᗢ﹒✿﹐⊂⊃﹒ᐢᗜᐢ﹒ꕀ﹐リ﹐口﹐ꕀ﹒（｀δ´）﹒口，✿﹐⊂⊃﹒ᐢᗜᐢ﹒░﹒𖦹﹐゛✿﹑（｀δ´）﹒イ。ꕀ﹑リ﹐⊂⊃﹒ꔠ﹒口﹐･ᴗ･﹒░﹑リ﹒◐﹐、﹕✧﹒✶﹔？﹐ʬʬ﹒▹﹒❀﹒⭔﹒▿﹒⺡﹒✿﹒﹢﹒░﹑⬦﹒૪ ﹒〹﹒罒﹒ᶻz﹒◎﹐ꕀ﹒◖◗﹒⺌﹒〣﹒ᗢ﹒⺌﹒⿸﹑ꔠ﹒❀﹒➜﹒▦﹒◐﹒✷﹒◉﹒⿴﹒⿻﹒✦﹒★﹒☆﹒ıllı﹢☆﹒❀﹕▧﹒⟡﹒★﹕ıllı﹒▒﹒◎﹐☆﹒ꕀ﹐➜﹒⪩﹒〇﹐➜﹒★﹕◐﹒％﹕▧﹒⊂⊃﹒♡﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒₊ˎ✧﹒⪩﹒˃ᴗ˂﹕˃ᗜ˂﹕⿴﹒ᶻz﹒☆﹔⿴﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒➜﹒⭔﹕⪩⪨﹢◒﹒◎﹒✿﹒⊂⊃﹔♡﹒◍﹒✦﹒⪩⪨﹒▧﹒⟡﹕➜﹐▦﹐✦﹒✶﹐﹢﹒ㄑ﹕ꕀ﹒＞＜﹐ꔠ﹐✿﹐×﹐丶﹐＞︿﹒リ﹕﹢﹐﹔★﹒ᶻz﹒⿴﹒⭔﹒✿﹒⊹﹒⭔﹒⨯﹒➜﹒★﹒◞﹒◟◝﹒◜﹒﹪﹒→﹐ıllı﹒★﹒✦﹒⌕﹒⌗﹒✿﹒⊹﹒✸﹒❍﹒⭓﹒◒﹒﹏﹒₊﹒▹﹒ᶻz﹒％﹒◖﹒░﹒ʬʬ﹒⿴﹒⫘﹒◎﹒⨳﹒⌕﹕★﹒☆﹒⌗﹐﹪﹐⌯﹐﹟﹐◐﹒▒﹒◎﹒⇆﹒☆﹒❀﹒☆﹒ıllı﹒↺﹒◍﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒░﹒⇵﹒▧﹒◍﹒♡﹕❀﹑⿸﹕▞﹒✿﹒╰﹒░﹐◎﹒♡﹒◜ᴗ◝﹒˃ᴗ˂ ♡﹐﹅﹒✿﹒⊞﹒ıllı﹒♡﹒⊞﹕▞﹒✿﹒❀﹒⌕﹒⿸﹒✶﹒❀﹒✷﹒✸﹒▒﹒ᶻz﹒✿﹐♡﹐❀﹒░﹒⇵﹒▨﹕◍﹒♡﹒⌕﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹑♡﹒✿﹒◍﹒⊞﹒∇﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◎﹒⇆﹒☆﹒@﹒˘ᗜ˘﹒☆﹔⿴﹒⪩﹐ᶻz﹒➜﹒⪩﹔◖﹐❀﹕⿸﹔﹢﹑ᐢᗜᐢ﹒⊂⊃﹑✿﹒◎﹒イ﹐ꕀ﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹒✶﹒ꕀ﹒▦﹐⊂⊃﹒⇆﹒☆﹒⬚﹒❀﹕➜﹒⪩﹒ᗢ﹒◍﹒⊞﹒∇﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◎﹒ᶻz﹒⪨﹒✶﹑✹﹒⪩。ꕀ﹒✿﹒リ﹒⊞﹒⟡﹒⿴﹒☓﹐⊂⊃﹒➜﹒⟡﹒⪩⪨﹒･ᴗ･﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒✿﹒◎﹒☓﹒☆﹔リ﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹒✶﹑ꕀ﹒▦﹒リ﹐⇆﹒☆﹒⬚﹒❀﹕➜﹒⪩﹒〇﹒◍﹒⊞﹒∇﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◎﹒ᶻz﹒⪨﹒✶﹑✹﹒⪩﹒ꕀ﹒✿﹔➜﹐﹏﹐★☆﹒┆︎﹒⩇﹒✿﹔✸﹕♡﹐◌﹒❥﹐％﹑〹．ʬʬ﹕੭﹐♢﹒口﹒⇣⇡﹒☆﹔⌗﹒⪩﹐ᶻ﹒➜﹒⪩﹔◖﹐❀﹕⿸﹑ᐢᗜᐢ﹒⊂⊃﹑✿﹒！﹒◎﹒リ﹐ꔠ﹐✿﹑∇﹒イ﹐ꕀ﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹒✶﹑﹒ꕀ﹒▦﹒⊂⊃﹒⇆﹒☆﹒⬚﹒❀﹕➜﹒⪩﹒⩇﹕✿﹒ʬʬ﹕口﹐〇﹒◍﹒⊞﹒∇﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◎﹒ᶻz﹒⪨﹒✶﹑✹﹒⪩﹐ꕀ﹒✿﹒⊞﹒⟡﹒⿸﹑␥﹒♡﹕リ﹒☓﹐⊂⊃﹒➜﹒⟡﹒⪩⪨﹒･ᴗ･﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒✿﹒☓﹒✩﹒⊞﹕❀﹑◌﹒⊞﹒✸﹕⌗﹕★﹒ᶻz﹒✦﹒★☆﹒ıllı﹢☆﹕❀﹒▧﹒⟡﹒★﹕ıllı﹐▒﹒◎﹐☆﹒ꕀ﹔➜﹒⪩﹒〇﹐➜﹒★﹕◐﹒％﹐⊂⊃﹒♡﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒✧﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹕˃ᗜ˂﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒☆﹔⿴﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒➜﹒⭔﹕⪩⪨﹐﹢﹐◒﹒⊂⊃﹔♡﹒◍﹒✦﹒⪩⪨﹒▧﹒⟡﹕➜﹐▦﹒✦﹒✶﹐ㄑ﹕ꕀ﹒＞＜﹐ꔠ﹑ꕤ﹒░﹒◖﹒⟡﹒❀﹒→﹒⿴﹒⿻﹒⊞﹒♡﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒︴﹒✶﹒⭔﹐𓆩♡𓆪﹒リ﹒Ꮺ﹒キ﹒ꗃ﹒⿶﹒⌓﹒〹﹒⧅﹒◆﹒▽﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒⬙﹒⎙﹒◈﹒▣﹒ᶻz﹒⟢﹒ʬʬ﹒⊹﹒✷﹒◉﹒⿸﹒✶﹒❀﹒✷﹒⿻﹒⌇﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◍﹒▿﹒⤸﹒○﹒░﹒⇵﹒☆﹒@﹒˘ᗜ˘﹒⬚﹒✸﹒▧﹒◎﹒♡﹒◜ᴗ◝﹒✸﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒✿﹑⟡﹒❀﹒★﹒➔﹒％﹒ᗜ﹔﹒⌗﹒﹪﹒﹒⟢﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒✮﹒^..^﹒✵﹒
꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚︶꒷꒥꒷ ‧₊˚ ꒰ฅ˘ω˘ฅ꒱ ˚₊ ‧ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷˚‧₊꒷꒥꒷
⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿ ⊹
⊹ ₊︶꒦︶ ୨୧ ︶꒦꒷\🌺ɞ
⊹˚₊꒷ʚ๑✦˚₊ ‧୨꒥꒷﹕ʚ꒰ᕱ⑅ᕱ꒱ɞ﹕꒷꒥୧‧₊˚✦๑ɞ꒷₊˚⊹
୨ɞ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷✦ ‧₊˚﹕ଘ𖣠ଓ﹕ ˚₊ ‧ ✦꒷︶꒷꒥꒷ʚ୧*
꒷︶꒦︶ ୨୧ ︶꒦꒷
୨ɞ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷✦ ‧₊˚﹕ଘ𖣠ଓ﹕ ˚₊ ‧ ✦꒷︶꒷꒥꒷ʚ୧
・❝๑꒦꒷꒰꒱₊ʚ\🍵ɞ₊꒰꒱꒷꒦๑❞・
‧₊˚๑ɞᕬ﹙୨\👒ଓ꒥꒷︰✦︰꒷꒥୨\🌻ଓ﹚ᕬʚ๑˚₊ ‧
˚₊ ‧ᕱ୨✦．꒰꒷꒦₊ꐑꐑɞ \🐸 ʚꐑꐑ₊ ꒷꒦꒱✦ଓᕱ‧₊˚
⊹˚₊꒷ʚ๑✦˚₊ ‧୨꒥꒷﹕ʚ꒰ᕱ⑅ᕱ꒱ɞ﹕꒷꒥୧‧₊˚✦๑ɞ꒷₊˚⊹
・・ɞ˚₊‧❝꒦꒷꒰꒱ʚ✦ɞ꒰꒱꒷꒦❞‧₊˚ʚ・・
₊꒷⊹. ❛﹢ɞ꒰𖥻꒱ʚ﹢❜ .⊹꒷₊
﹕╯ʚ✦꒷₊꒰ʚ⊹ ⋯・\🍄・⋯ ⊹ɞ꒱₊꒷✦ɞ╰﹕
꒷₊˚\🥛╰╮꒷꒦ ₊˚ʚ﹕\🐰﹕ɞ˚₊ ꒷꒦╭╯\🥛˚₊꒷
୨\🍯・✦ʚꐑꐑ꒷꒦₊꒰﹕\🍪﹕꒱₊꒦꒷ꐑꐑɞ✦\🍯ଓ
┈୨ʚ꒰・\🌸❜ ᕬ︰✦︰ᕬ ❛\🌸・꒱ɞ୧┈
﹕✦꒷₊˚ฅ・\🥛・ฅ˚₊꒷✦﹕
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⪩ bow symbols 𑆪ིྀᩧ
^᪲ ིྀྀི ౨ৎ ꣑𓍢 ❜୧ ୨୧ 𐙚᭄
^᪲᪲᪲ ೀ ೨౿ ᠀𓏲 ϑ𐑞 ꣑୧ ︶ིྀᩧ
𐙚 ೇ 𑁥౿ ꢾ𓍢ִ໋ 𐒘𝛠 ϑℓ ၄၃
ꔫ ^ྀི᪲ ୭ৎ 𝝑𓏲 𝝑𝝔 𝝑𝑒 ⪩⪨
ᤣ९ ◌⃘ꔫ ໑᱖ ୨𓏲̼ 𝟅𝟈 𝝑୧ ⃟͚ 𐙚
𓍼 ੭̲᱖ ꪆৎ 𑁥𓍢 𝞋𝞎 𝜗𝜚 ၇⃪⃖ꪆ୧
͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏
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Hey guys, I'm still currently homeless and I'm trying to save up money for a small foldable bed because I just can't take waking up with extreme joint pain and poor sleep every day from sleeping on floors and I barely make enough money to get by alongside college, please if you could donate I'd really appreciate it,
If you could boost this post even if you can't donate I'd be happy just please share this if you can I'm really struggling right now
thank you guys, I love you so much.
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RLLY NICE GUY WHO ONLY HATES YOU HAS ME WEAK
REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS
Too many beds
Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss
Really nice guy who hates only you
Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class
Divorce of convenience
Too much communication
True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)
Dating your enemy’s sibling
Lovers to enemies
Hate at first sight
Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead
Fake amnesia
Soulmates who are fated to kill each other
Strangers to enemies
Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating
Too hot to cuddle
Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground
Nursing home au
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ugly sobbing
🤍 memento
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SOBBING
do you ever think Gojo floats while sleeping 💤
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THE WRITING????
12:45am — gojo satoru ;
“cute earrings, where’d you get them?” shoko asks.
“hm?” still clinging to sleep, you absentmindedly reach up to caress the metal dangling from your ear. the sharp indents of its gem pricks you back into a memory. “oh, these. i got them from a friend last week.”
“friend? or do you mean boyfriend?”
shoko’s words are throwaway, her wandering eyes and yawn a clear indication yet your face warms despite yourself. shaking your head furiously, you exclaim, “a friend! just a friend."
shoko hums, shifting her cigarette to the other end of her mouth. her gaze flickers somewhere behind you and you almost look too, when her words pull you back. “come to think of it, i don’t think you’ve ever told me what your type was.”
“my type?” your mind blanks. “i’ve probably never told you because i’ve never thought about it myself. i mean, being a jujutsu sorcerer and all, romance is kind of off the table.”
shoko keeps looking at you, pressing you without words. you grimace and sigh.
"i mean, i guess, maybe someone good looking? someone who’s not boring? and now that we're talking about it, someone who is fit and athletic too. they'd have to be smart, but not book-smart, like, street-smart." the more you think of it, the more words seem to spill from your mouth. "and someone who has a good sense of humour, someone who will make me laugh.”
“someone good looking, interesting, sporty, smart and funny? that’s too greedy.”
you giggle. “you’re right, there’s no way there’s anyone that perfect. i guess i’ll have to be single forever.”
“you'll always have me.” shoko says, grinning.
you push her shoulder but don’t deny it.
yaga walks into the classroom, cutting your conversation short. you spin around in your seat to face the front, eyes accidentally meeting gojo’s. he turns around too, and you reason that he was probably looking out the window behind you. you see getou snicker and whisper something in his ear, but gojo seemed to be having none of it, blatantly ignoring him.
seeing his face makes you think. didn’t gojo kind of match your type? someone attractive, interesting, athletic and maybe not academic smart, but he definitely carried an air of confidence when it came to fighting. and it wasn't a secret that he lightened the air wherever he went, intentionally or not.
with a start, you look back at shoko. “and someone calm. someone with manners.”
“well-mannered and calm. what insane preferences.” shoko chuckles. “are there any more?"
yaga slams his hand on the table a few times, reluctantly drawing your attention back to the front.
your previous conversation dies and twiddles away into the background, overtaken by droning lectures and predictable missions. by the end of the day, you can't even remember what you had told shoko early that morning.
when you enter the classroom the next day, you’re surprised to find gojo already there, seated at his table. his sunglasses hangs lower on his nose than usual and most curiously of all, a book is held in his hands. you’re not sure if he’s actually reading or not considering that pages were being turned far too quickly for someone reading “ordinary objects” by amie thomasson.
his eyes flicker to yours as you head in. “good morning.”
“morning. what’s with you?”
gojo clears his throat. “what ever do you mean?”
your frown transitions to a grimace. “why are you talking like that? did you break something of mine? was it my potted plant, gojo i told you to take good care of it!”
“i am taking care of it! it’s not dead yet!” he exclaims before pausing uncharacteristically. he sits back in his chair and turns back to his book. “i mean, it’s fine.”
“you sure?”
“i am.”
you narrow your eyes before looking away, dropping into your seat. “it better be. shoko got me that one.”
“speaking of shoko, is she not coming today?”
“i think she stayed overnight at the morgue.”
“is that so? perhaps i should write notes for her. i wouldn’t want her to miss out on class.”
you turn to him horrified. “so you did kill my plant!”
“i said it’s not dead!” gojo bursts. another pause. he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. “i simply worry for her.”
you stare at him and watch as he fidgets under your gaze. “are you feeling sick? did you eat something wrong?”
“i’m not sick. what part of me looks sick?"
“well you’re usually not this…” you watch him as you wrack your brain, trying to find a word to describe this situation. “c…”
gojo leans forward. “yes?”
“crazy.”
he falls back in his chair, groaning, book forgotten and placed harshly down on the table.
you tilt your head. “where's getou, you guys didn’t come to class together? don’t tell me you fought.”
gojo peers up and frowns. “no, can i not show up to class early just because i feel like it?”
“it would be extremely out of character, yeah.” you rest your chin on your hand as you watch gojo mutter to himself, his jaw jutted out and his nose scrunched.
he was clearly unhappy, it didn’t take a scholar to know. it might take a genius to figure out why though.
you had time to kill, might as well take up the challenge. maybe he hadn’t had his morning dose of sugar yet, or maybe his favourite anime had delayed it’s upcoming episode. maybe he didn't save properly on the new game he was playing, or maybe he simply didn't sleep well last night. or maybe he had lied to you and he had fought with getou, leading to this strange attitude.
the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. the way he was acting now was like a mockery to getou's usual behaviour.
“are you trying to be like getou?” you try.
gojo whirs around to face you. “what?”
“well, you’re trying to be composed.” he keeps staring at you and you clear your throat. “like more well-mannered. more calm.”
gojo remains silent but you watch as his jaw drops. you think that he might say something but then his mouth closes, only to open again.
gojo speechless, what a sight. but as good of a sight as it was, you were beginning to feel concerned.
“are you sure you’re alright? what did you eat yesterday?”
he doesn’t register your question. “you think getou is well-mannered?”
“yeah?”
“and calm?”
you nod. “more than you, at least.”
“do you think he’s interesting too? sporty? smart? funny?” he pauses. “good-looking?”
the questions throw you off guard and you sit up. “what? where is this coming from?”
“oh my god, you do.”
“no? i mean, i think getou’s great and everything—”
“you think getou’s great?”
“don’t you?”
“you think getou’s hot.” he concludes. “and you think getou’s great.”
"what are you even saying?"
"i don't know. why don't you tell me?"
baffled, you flail for words. “are you jealous of him? that's strange, i didn’t think either of you would ever feel jealous of each other.”
gojo grits his teeth and looks away. with a pout, he says, “me neither.”
the door to the classroom is thrown open and getou steps through, rubbing the back of his neck. he yawns on his way to his chair and it wakes him up, looking between you and gojo as you both watch him enter.
“what did you guys do?” he asks with a sigh.
“nothing!”
“nothing.” gojo says and glares at him.
getou blinks.
“okay.” he says slowly, sliding out his chair and sitting. “what did i do then? why are you both looking at me like that?”
“gojo’s being weird.” you snitch. “are you guys fighting?”
“how should i know? i thought we were doing okay. gojo, if i did something, use your words and tell me.”
"i'll use my words to tell you to suck my dick instead."
"so i did do something. you're so predictable, gojo."
you snicker as gojo huffs and glances away, looking away out the window behind your head. his train of sight cuts right past you but you can’t help but feel slightly flustered as he looks on, almost like he was looking at you, so determined to ignore getou’s pestering.
subconsciously, you drown getou out too, your traitorous mind observing the blue in gojo’s eyes. you had always thought it was just one colour, but looking at it now, it seemed more like a kaleidoscope of blues, the many shades sparkling and dimming as he watched birds flutter outside the window, and you watched their shadows through his eyes.
something shifts, in the air or in the skies you don't know, and gojo meets your eye. startled, you hold the gaze and he holds it too, just long enough for your lungs to run out of air.
you look away hastily and inhale.
gojo glances to the front, oddly fidgety.
getou looks between the two of you. “what the fuck was that?”
“nothing.” gojo says.
getou clearly doesn't buy it but though he tries to get an answer out of you, you don't give him one either. cupping your cheeks, your thoughts mirror his question. what was that? it was embarrassing, that's what it was and your realisation is only heightened as a silence fills all four corners of the classroom.
gojo clears his throat. “for me, i like someone who i'm already comfortable with. someone i already know.”
at his words, you look over at him and find him already staring. he frowns as you don't give him any other reaction.
yaga saves you from addressing his statement, walking into the room as the bell for class rang. "oh? you're all early, even you gojo. where's shoko?"
“she’s staying at the morgue because of the recent mission.”
“i see.” yaga nods. “then let’s start.”
your mind fails to work as you turn over gojo’s words, thinking them through. what did they mean? what was he talking about? did this weird confession have something to do with why he was acting so strange?
slowly, you draw connections between your conversation with gojo and the talk you had with shoko yesterday morning. an epiphany shoots through you and you cover your mouth to hide a gasp.
did that mean…?
someone he knew? acting strange? getting mad when you said you liked getou?
you watch gojo’s side profile, hoping he’d turn around. if what you thought was right, he’d turn.
seconds tick past. yaga’s voice drawls on and yet gojo doesn't even spare you a glance.
no, maybe you were wrong after all.
just as you were about to face yaga again, gojo’s head shifts and his eye flicks over to yours. they widen when he finds you, and you’re sure you’re in a similar shocked state.
oh my god, you think, eyes darting between him and the other boy in the room.
gojo has a crush on getou.
filler imagine based off of that One scene from the manga: "megane tokidoki yankee kun"
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why is our fandom like this? why do we prolong our misery by writing non-canon angst on top of the canon one? (the link to this post will be on my suicide note. trust.)
gojo had a dream you died.
it was partially the reason why he woke up in a cold sweat… it was horrid.
he could still hear your screams, the life leaving your eyes, but more importantly, he remembered your final words that were murmured to him. “satoru, don’t… cry, i’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.” and he believed you, that everything would be okay. despite tears filling his eyes, labeled the strongest at that moment, he couldn’t have ever felt so weak.
the dream felt so real, that was the scary part. he remembered each and every detail. from the feeling of you giving his wrist a light squeeze, the sweet smell of your natural scent.. the eerie sounds of your irregular wheezes as you were clinging on your final moments.
“don’t leave me,” he mutters, he remembers saying that. three simple words, yet his dilated pupils spoke a thousand. he started to repeat it. again and again as if it was a mantra. his words, his tone broke the more he spoke to you. that cute smile of yours never left his lips, it remained there. regardless of your inevitable incoming fate, he sobs, “you’re…you’re all i have left. i don’t wanna be left alone again, just stay. please, baby.”
“i’m not going anywhere, ‘toru,” you’d reassure him, a single tear drop of his falls onto your cheek.
after that moment, gojo wakes up. trembling, yet the dream wasn’t that feared him the most. it was him waking up with you not next to him..
cold, everything felt cold.
he shot up immediately from his dream. the cold sweat that forever continued to race down his back as he panted.
he was so used to your warmth taking up part of the bed. albeit, in this case though. it felt empty. isolated.
it was near the middle of the night, gojo was drowsy, rubbing his eyes to blind his vision with imaginary stars. feeling for the bed, it was frigid.
“baby?” he’d grumble, white lashes partially open. silence called back to him, and if it was anything about gojo, he hated being alone.
oh, he loathed it, yet whenever you came into his life. he didn’t have to worry about that. you were always besides him, no matter what.
until now.
it takes him a split second before it dawns on him. your fatal death, it wasn’t another one of his silly surreal dreams. it was nothing but mere reality.
a breath gets caught in his throat once he realizes, being brought back into harsh realness. you were gone.
it’s been years, speaking of which…
it was your anniversary with him. the same exact day he proposed to you. he remembers it vividly, getting down on one knee with the goofiest grin. he didn’t even say, “will you marry me..?” instead, he snorts a sheepish, “let’s get married, heh.”
“i always forget around this time,” gojo sighs to himself with a soft tone, his voice was a bit raspy from abruptly waking up. intaking a sharp inhale, he goes towards your side of the bed and he reaches into his pocket.
“it should have been me,” and he doesn’t even care he’s talking to himself, it’s like for whatever reason, your presence was near him. “our marriage,”
and then with a brief sniffle, he glances down at the ring you once wore proudly. he strokes it with a thumb before huffing out a shaky, “our marriage, it was supposed to last us for infinity…”
but it didn’t.
with hot tears streaming down his face and a power he wished he never have because in the end, it didn’t save you. he couldn’t save you.
and now…
the strongest, the most brave to ever live and walk could easily be mistaken as the weakest.
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"INTERESTING!!! CUTE!!!" I'M LOSING ITTTTT
getting flowers from someone else & thinking it was from them
ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, ino, shoko, uraume, yuta, megumi, yuuji
ʚ cont: crack, fluff
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ
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"he’s been downgraded." WEAK ASLLL
fighting
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: megumi gets in trouble at school
warnings: they are a family (and hate each other)
last part | next part
*
year three.
your mouth is a straight line, and you know both of them are staring at you.
you're all sitting in the car, three hours before megumi's supposed to get out of school, and it's been quiet for the last ten minutes.
you don't have anything to say, you think. nothing that will make sense of the mess in your head.
and satoru's eyes are glaring into your head, burning your skin. you want to shove him and tell him to leave you alone--even though he's not doing anything--but that seems hypocritical.
especially considering that megumi is suspended for the rest of the week.
“okay,” satoru says, after his eyes have basically glazed over from focusing on you for too long. “megumi, can you say something? i think her head's about to explode.”
“i'm fine,” you hiss. and then you glance at megumi in the rearview mirror and feel a little bad.
he looks smaller than usual. his eyes are shifting from you to satoru, and his mouth is open like he wants to say something but isn't sure what. and, of course, he's scrunched himself up, almost a ball right behind you.
you don't want to be frustrated with him, but it seems inevitable. he's just a kid, you try to think, but it doesn't work. when you were a kid you didn't--
so yeah, you feel bad for him. not that bad though. you know he knows what you’re going to say.
megumi sighs (but it sounds more reminiscent of one of satoru’s many whines). “i’m… sorry.”
he might as well be telling you that he cut out your heart, and blew up a church with how dreary his voice is.
satoru grins. “there. we’re cool now.” he reaches back and ruffles megumi’s hair. his arms are too long for anything in the world. he's basically an arachnoid. “y/n…” he hums. “you can stop frowning now. he apologized.”
you glance over at him, unimpressed. satoru will brush this away like everything else.
even though you know he cares--and doesn't want you to be mad, or megumi to feel guilty.
his stupid smile almost makes you break, but you look away.
“sorry for what megumi?” you ask, softly, trying to ignore your stupid roommate. he’s been downgraded.
“…hitting those kids.”
“are you actually sorry?” you clarify, even though you know the answer.
he’s silent.
you can see out of your peripheral when satoru gives him a nasty look. mouthing something to him.
at least you know where megumi gets this from. his protectiveness is not unique to you, but at least satoru does it jokingly. at least he only destroys the already destroyed.
maybe you're thinking too hard about this.
you sigh, this time, rubbing your eyes with one hand. “look, megumi, we can talk about it later.”
you could use a break from both of them. a couple of minutes to yourself to... probably cry in your bed and wonder why the world is so terrible.
“um, no we can’t.” satoru says. “i’m going to be gone later. i told you about my—“
you pinch his thigh over the gearshift. “we’ll talk without you.”
he gasps. “excuse you,” he says, “but i am a part of this conversation.”
“yes, i think you’ve done plenty to contribute to this, gojo.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
you try to smile at him, but it feels more like a grimace. “just that you’re the one sparing with megumi on the weekends.”
satoru frowns. “we’re practicing. you want him to be as weak as every other shikigami user in the world?” he asks, rhetorically.
“i like sparring,” megumi interjects, like it matters.
“maybe a little too much,” you say, under your breath.
satoru grabs your hand from his leg, intertwining his fingers with yours. it would be sweet--a nice connection--if you weren't actively trying to hurt him.
maybe megumi gets it from both of you.
“okay, megumi,” satoru sings. “you can’t hit your classmates, okay? look i fixed it.”
you glare at him. then turn into your driveway.
satoru groans. “why are you both so difficult? megumi, just apologize, and y/n, he made a mistake. he’s not gonna do it again.”
“i’m not talking about this right now,” you tell him, shaking your hand from his, wanting not to be mad at either of them.
but you’re mad at both. they both suck and you love them too much to even yell.
“i’m difficult?” megumi retorts.
satoru groans again and you all get out of the car.
“go get started on your homework,” you tell megumi, after you unlock the door. “we can talk in a bit.”
your voice is naturally softer with him. megumi’s too cute to stay angry at.
satoru doesn’t have that issue.
megumi looks back at you, his eyes inquisitive, his mouth pinched. “you’re mad at me?”
you sigh, hanging the keys on the hook. “no, megs. it’s fine. we just need to talk about it. later.
“you’re mad,” he repeats, all-knowing. seriously, who allowed satoru to raise him?
“i… maybe a little. not really at you. just the situation.”
“i’m sorry.”
you shake your head, hand on your back as you gently nudge him down the hall. “just go hang out for a bit. relax.”
you try not to notice how he rubs his fists, tiny bruises forming on his tiny knuckles.
satoru walks in behind you, bumping into you purposefully. “start writing your opening statement,” he adds, grinning at you both.
you push him away and megumi rolls his eyes.
you walk into the kitchen, thinking about moving megumi to a new school—a new family. they’ll probably do better than you’re doing. at least there he won't have one parent who actively eggs him into violence every day.
you know satoru is following you (because when isn’t he?) but you don’t expect a hand tapping on your arm, and wary blue eyes meeting yours.
dark blue eyes.
“can we talk now?” megumi asks, his voice softer than usual. you can tell he feels bad, but you know that it’s only because you’re upset.
and it’s not even him. you just wish that he had a better response to these things. that he didn’t feel like fixing everything was his responsibility.
you’re not sure where you went wrong, but you know that it was somewhere.
“megumi… i just need to think for a bit. i’m really not mad.” this time you actually smile at him, because even if he’s beating kids up in school, he’s so sweet to all of you. so cautious.
(except for satoru, but he deserves it).
“i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to get in trouble.”
satoru snorts from behind you. he’s leaning against the wall, watching.
lord knows he wouldn’t be any help—even if he actually was contributing to the conversation.
you swallow, because you really don't want to tell megumi anything. not without running it through satoru first, at least. without considering the consequences.
but he looks very worried, and you don't want to leave him to obsess over this by himself.
“i just don’t understand why…” you shake your head. you’re not going to make any sense of a nine-year-old mind. “you can’t hit people because you’re upset. you know that.”
“they were messing with a girl in class,” he says, frowning. then he looks to satoru, his head tilted. “i thought that’s what you told me? i’m stronger, i can help.”
“uh….” satoru scratches the back of his neck, wincing. he's lucky that he's several feet away from you.
you turn. “what?”
“i—“ he holds his hands up in defense immediately. “i may or may not have mentioned that we, as in all of us, we’re meant to be upstanders, you know. not—“ he clears his throat. clasps his hands together. “bystanders.”
“satoru.” you groan, leaning against the counter. at least it's all coming together.
you need to bug him or something, just to monitor everything he says
satoru continues. “but i meant in public! with curses. not—not children,” he glares at megumi.
probably for ratting him out.
“but you said that if someone was in trouble—“
“can you stop talking?” satoru says to him, shaking his head, lips pouting pathetically. “i didn’t raise a snitch.”
you furrow your brows and megumi crosses his arms.
“satoru, you told him to fight people?”
he winces again, adjusting his glasses. “i meant… bad people.”
“they were bad,” megumi reassures you both because it obviously matters. “they tried to steal her backpack. that’s bad.”
you sigh, shaking your head.
you can't believe that you're still standing here, still contemplating what to say to him.
where did it all go wrong?
“was the backpack cool?” satoru wonders, going to stand right next to you, hand slinging around your shoulder. he ignores it when you try to push him off.
he's probably just trying to be annoying.
megumi frowns. “i don’t know, i didn’t ask her to—“
“stop talking, both of you.”
you ponder running away from all of them and starting a new life. rome is supposed to be nice this time of year, and you’ve been saving up…
but you’d feel bad for leaving tsumiki with the two of them. plus, satoru doesn’t know how to fill out his tax return.
“we’re talking,” satoru says, raising a brow at you. “you like that.” he grins at you like he’s solved world hunger or something.
with his stupid face and stupid mouth. you would move to rome just so you never had to look at him again and feel briefly distracted.
“i need a minute to think.”
the two boys share a look. how you’ve survived three years with them is questionable.
finally, you sigh again, rubbing your temple. “megumi, you know you can’t hit people. why didn’t you get a teacher? violence is never an option.”
satoru frowns. “what about—“
“in the real world,” you correct, glaring at him. “violence is not an option. don’t put your hands on other people. talk to someone.”
megumi kicks his foot against the hardwood. “i didn’t think they’d listen.”
you nudge his chin, getting him to look at you. “then you tell one of us. preferably not satoru. i know—i understand that you want to help, but hurting someone just to protect someone else isn’t any better than bullying, okay?”
“yeah, don’t bully your bullies," satoru waves a finger at him.
you roll your eyes, and megumi looks disheartened—annoyed maybe—but nods eventually.
not that you expect him to agree immediately anyway. megumi has never been fond of talking. even with all of you, he'd rather hug you than ask how your day is.
and it's fine, usually. you don't want to push him.
you also don't want to have to bail him out of jail.
“okay. good. if this ever happens again i'm homeschooling you.”
megumi doesn’t seem to mind this, shrugging at the threat.
you pause, then say, “actually, satoru is homeschooling you.”
the boy frowns.
satoru nudges your side, giving you a skeptical look. “no punishment? he’s just free to go? last time i tried to—“
“you were trying to put megumi in a headlock.”
“he was eating the last mochi! he knew i was saving it.”
you scowl at him. “it’s not even his fault,” you say, looking pointedly at him. then you brighten. “and he has to deal with you every day, that’s punishment enough.”
satoru opens his mouth, holding a hand in the air. then he closes it.
you turn around to see megumi smirking at him.
you roll your eyes. “what do you want to tell tsumiki?”
you'll have to pick her up in an hour or two, and she's going to ask questions. plus, megumi's scratched-up hands are not very discreet.
megumi’s face falls. “um—“
satoru starts laughing beside you, body shaking against yours, and you feel like there’s about to be another fight.
but at least you’re not upset anymore.
megumi says something to satoru--like shut up--but you're not really listening anymore. just looking between the two like they aren't the most important, special things in the world to you.
whatever happens, you think, is satoru's fault.
*
next part | series masterlist
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this is making me realize how much i love slow burn
stay
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: you're in denial (no you're not)
warnings: pining, no plot
a/n: i had to give you a little look at what they do when they're alone
last part | next part
*
year two.
“what?” satoru asks, his voice blurred in the haze you're thinking in.
honestly, you haven't been looking at him for that long.
you've only been watching his arms as they move across the sink, veins drenched in water, hands scrubbing at a pot that you've made his responsibility.
you've only been thinking about him for the past five years. the way his mouth moves when he's focused, the subtle curve of his jaw from this angle.
and you're only staring now because you don't want him to mess up the kitchen. god knows how much it's worth.
you shake your head, subtle grin disappearing automatically. “hmm?”
“you’re staring at me.”
you blink. “oh. sorry.”
you and him both know that there's no denying it.
“and you think i’m spacey,” satoru mutters, turning to you with his arms crossed, a smirk adorning his lips. apparently, he’s perfected his dad stance. “what do you want?”
“what?" you look away, for one moment, when your heart feels a bit warm, then back to him. "why would i want something?”
“that’s what tsumiki does when she wants something.”
“well, unlike tsumiki, i’m not a child, so…”
“i beg to differ,” satoru leans towards you, raising a brow. “what are you? thirteen?”
he's different like this--when he knows that you're paying attention.
so ridiculously stupid that you can't look away from him.
“you are a single year older,” you tell him, “and i had to teach you how to do the dishes. our age gap is easily filled by my years of experience—“
“blah blah blah,” satoru interrupts, rolling his eyes, “hard work, torture, bills to pay. we get it.”
you shrug, lip twitching. “you started it.”
“by being born?” satoru asks, fluttering his eyelashes, trying his hand at flirting with you.
unfortunately, he's dreadful at it. even with his waggling eyebrows and throat when he swallows.
“oh my god,” you put a hand to your chest, mock shocked. “did i forget to become clan head the second i was born? my bad.”
“seriously. slacker.”
you roll your eyes.
then you turn to the counter again, messing with a stack of bills satoru has left there. you're probably going to be the one to deal with them anyway.
it's been twenty minutes since you put the kids to bed--frowning at satoru when he swore that they'd already brushed their teeth (they hadn't)--and you've already lost sight of getting out of his house.
some small part of you wants to stay, just so you can sneak some more glances at satoru.
“why are you staring at me?” he asks, nudging your arm with his hand. "get lost in my eyes?"
you scoff. “i just zoned out, satoru.”
“looking right at my face?”
you smile deviously, reaching a hand out to trail a finger across his cupids bow. “i was contemplating the different plastic surgeries that could improve you.”
satoru does nothing to push away your hand, but you snap it away when you feel him shiver.
“please," he frowns. "we both know there’s no room for improvement.”
you raise your brows. he says it more like a question than a statement, so you keep the same teasing smile on your face.
“don’t be mean,” he says, pouting.
“sorry.”
“no, you’re not.”
your smile brightens and you walk towards the door--listening to his heavy footsteps as he follows--and reach towards the hook for your coat.
you better leave before he convinces you to touch him again with nothing but his eyes.
“where are you going?” satoru continues pouting.
“home? the kids are asleep.”
he huffs. “but i’m not.”
“do you need me to tuck you in?”
“what if i do?”
“tough luck, satoru," you shove his hand away from where it grabs your jacket.
“c’mon,” he says, pulling at your wrist instead. “stay a little bit longer. let’s talk.”
“all you ever want to talk about is digimon," you answer, rolling your eyes.
you deny the fact that you'd probably listen to him talk about anything, just to hear the slight drawl in his throat or the teasing in his voice.
“well, duh.”
“and i don’t understand a single thing you say.”
satoru pulls you towards him, even when you dig your heels into the floor. “you think after five years you’d trust me enough to take one of my recommendations," he says, chiding you. like he's the most trustworthy person you've ever met.
like you might trust him with your life (you would).
“last time i trusted any of your recommendations i almost got kicked out of school," you finally pull away, smoothing out your sleeves to put your jacket on.
“first of all, that was your idea—“
“i was kidding.”
“and i was just trying to cheer you up," his hands gesture to you, obviously, "plus yaga didn’t even care that much. it’s not like we crashed the car. he just had to threaten us or he would’ve gotten fired.”
you roll your eyes, zipping up your jacket.
“stay,” satoru whines. “i get lonely when you’re not here.”
“that’s because you’re supposed to be asleep.”
“i can't sleep without you.”
you scoff. “we’ve slept in the same room twice.”
neither one of you dares to mention the several nights you’ve spent together on the couch or the brief moments when you wake up in the morning and realize who you’re clinging to. those are brief lapses in judgment. nothing more.
“third times the charm,” satoru says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
despite his age, he is still a teenage boy.
the same one you've liked since you were fifteen.
“goodnight, satoru," you whisper, turning around.
“don’t you get lonely in your apartment all alone?” he asks, almost pleading, spinning you around again from the hem of your jacket. “what if you have a nightmare?”
because satoru has ever been concerned about a single thing that happens to you.
you roll your eyes. “i wake up, like an adult, and remember that it’s not real.”
satoru raises a brow.
“seriously, it’s late. i need to go before—“
“stay.”
“we’ve talked about this.”
“no. i make a suggestion, and you don’t listen.”
“because i already know what you’re going to say.”
“no, you don’t.”
“‘c’mon, y/n, i have a bedroom just for you. it can even be mine if you want.’”
“i don’t sound like that," he says frowning. though how could he deny the obvious?
“satoru, we need space--" more like you need space from him. several decades of space, just to catch your breath. "i can't spend every waking moment with you. i have a life.”
“yeah, me.”
you laugh, shaking your head (he's not wrong).
“just for tonight?”
“no.”
“just for an hour? what if one of them wakes up? you know i don’t know what to do," he says, very convincingly. his voice is quiet like he knows some sudden movements will scare you away.
you pretend to pause, humming. “send them back to their rooms…?”
“please," he begs you, so close that his breath is almost yours.
“no.”
“we never get alone time anymore,” he pouts, “i miss you.”
you know that he's using this to his advantage. like he's sure that his quiet voice and soft mouth will get you to break, will get you to stay here like you already want to.
but you refuse.
“stop.”
“and it’s cold. you don’t want to go home yet," he acts like he can read your mind.
“i promise you that i do," you reassure him, taking a step back. satoru only follows.
“we can watch a movie or something," he answers like you've already agreed to this. "i saw a trailer for this dumb comedy and it looks—“
you groan.
“what if i promise to sit on the other side of the couch?” he bargains.
“no," you frown, "you’re a liar.”
“what if i let you pick the movie?”
“no.”
“what if i pay you to stay?"
you flick his forehead. “are you kidding?”
“please,” he repeats, softly, leaning even closer. “you don’t have to stay for long…”
and it reminds you of every other time you've felt like your heart has disappeared. like your head has been eradicated by his low voice and his sparkling eyes.
it feels like being the same teenager you might still be, hoping that something will come from his pleading. from yours, however unspoken.
and you almost break, almost push him so far away--
but then there’s a tiny cough. and a sniffle. “y/n?” a voice asks, so soft you almost can't hear it over the sound of satoru’s ego.
over the sound of your own beating heart.
satoru smiles like he planned this all along.
you sigh. “an hour,” you tell him, sternly.
he only smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, spinning you both towards tsumiki.
*
you don’t say a thing when you wake up the next morning, sweat staining your neck, legs tangled in much longer ones.
your head is pounding from a night spent on the couch. from so many hours spent laughing at satoru, at the stupid things he says.
and he’s already looking at you like he could sense this moment coming.
like he can see beyond you, into your soul. into the very wanting you're sure is on your face.
you don’t say anything as you stare back into his eyes.
this is the one moment where he’s not allowed to comment on it. to make fun of you for your small smile, or laugh at your bed head.
this moment is just for the two of you. the rest of the world can disappear, right now. every terrifying thing, every horrible mistake, completely eradicated by the sound of satoru's heart, his eyelashes as they flutter open and closed.
you breathe in, almost about to say something. to break this thing before it can form.
and then you hear something banging in the kitchen, and it’s time to get up.
*
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😞🥹😝😮💨😭🤭😋😕🙈🙁
he stole my valentine
gojo satoru x fem!reader
a/n: here. forgive me.
last part | next part
*
year two.
megumi is standing there awkwardly, holding something behind his back. his head is hung toward the floor, so you can't see his face, but you have no doubts about the pink twinging his skin.
“what’s up, bud?” you ask him, shaking off your coat to hang on the rack.
you’re unused to him being so tense around you. (seriously, you’d think after two years the kid would be a little comfortable around you and your never-ending affection for him).
“i, um, i got—“
“oh, hey you’re here,” satoru peeks his head around the hallway, smiling brilliantly as soon as he sees you. “i think i broke the sink.”
you blink. “what?”
“i put some paper towels down there to wipe something up and i think they clogged it, or something.”
“are you kidding?”
“yes,” satoru says, but you don’t miss it when he turns briefly and mouths “no” to megumi.
who only rolls his eyes in response.
you don't say anything because satoru interrupts you with his smiling face before you can scold him.
he wraps his arms around your torso, squishing you to him. because he’s clingy. “you’re cold,” he complains, his nose on your cheek.
“i walked here.”
“aww, did you miss us?”
“not you,” you tell him, finally squirming away. “you interrupted megumi. what were you going to tell me?”
“i—nothing.”
you frown. “don’t let satoru stop you.”
“yeah,” satoru smirks, “don’t let me stop you.”
megumi flushes, but meets your eyes and tries to smile—looking like he’s in pain more than anything. then he pulls a little bear from behind his back, white and red. “happy valentine’s day,” he utters, holding it out to you. “will you be my valentine?”
satoru’s jaw drops, but you go over to the boy immediately, taking the bear and squeezing him to your side.
“megs, of course i will! thank you,” you coo over him for a moment, pinching his cheeks in classic satoru fashion. “you’re so sweet. and this bear is so cute. i wouldn’t want anyone else as my valentine.”
a little part of your heart that you've let the boy into squeezes when his lip twitches, looking satisfied up at you.
but satoru pulls the two of you apart, frowning at the boy. “this is not what we discussed.”
megumi scowls, again, and pushes him away. “you snooze, you lose.”
satoru’s eye twitches.
you looked confusedly between the two of them. “what?”
“we picked out two,” satoru tells megumi. “one for tsumiki, and one for—“
“you never said mine couldn’t be for her.”
“‘cause i thought it was implied!”
“what did he do?”
megumi smiles at you. “i’ll go get tsumiki so you can give her yours,” he tells satoru, giving him a smug look before running away.
“that little—“
“don’t name-call the children.”
“he just stole my valentine!”
“was this bear supposed to be for someone else?” you look down at it, frowning briefly.
you will not get jealous of a tiny little stuffed animal.
“no,” satoru snorts, with the grumpy face he must’ve learned from megumi on. “that brat picked it out.”
“oh. then why are you mad?”
“he stole you,” he says it as if it's all encompanying and obvious. like you'd planned this beforehand.
“he—“ you meet satoru’s eyes (glasses), brows raising in surprise. “oh. ha! as if, satoru.”
he pouts. “you were supposed to be my valentine, not his.”
you laugh. “he’s eight and he’s already more romantic than you are.”
“i took him to buy the thing!” he complains. “he wanted to pick one out to give to tsumiki, and i wanted to pick one out to give to you.”
“he probably got confused.”
“he didn’t. he stole my valentine.”
it would be lying to say you didn't find the possession--even the mere thought--a bit enticing. but you roll your eyes.
“just by the way,” you tell him, finally walking into the house, where the kids sit at the kitchen counter, “i wouldn’t have taken yours.”
“what do you mean you wouldn’t take mine—“ satoru follows you. “i picked it out for you. i got you a card!”
not to mention the endless supply of flowers he replenishes for your house every week since he'd brought the first bouquet. the man literally teleports there every monday and throws away the drooping flowers, arranging a new--in-season--bouquet all under your nose. you're shocked when you walk into the dining room after work, and yet you can't quite find it in you to scold him for it (or tell him not to break into your house).
really, it's the least he can do for all of the trouble he puts you through.
“aw, i’m sorry, but i already have a valentine,” you tell him with fake sympathy.
satoru glares at megumi.
you go over to the boy, ruffling tsumiki’s hair in greeting, and cradling his face in your palm from behind. looking right at satoru. “just look how handsome he is,” you coo, leaning down to press your cheek against his.
you are very aware that the only reason the boy is allowing this is to mess with satoru.
“i taught him how to do his hair like that.”
“and it’s so soft, and shiny…”
tsumiki laughs at satoru’s offended face and you let megumi go, winking at the two of them.
and then megumi coughs, pointedly at satoru.
you and tsumiki share a look.
a devious smile forms on satoru’s face as he turns around, grabbing something before spinning back with a flourish. “tsumiki,” he says, “miki, my darling girl,” he pulls another wear from behind his back, white and pink, and pleads, “you’re my favorite. will you be my valentine?”
you raise your brow at the declaration, and tsumiki laughs, admiring the bear. and then she freezes, biting her lip.
“what?” satoru asks. “you get offended by teddy bears?
“no, it’s, um…” you both frown and look at each other. “sorry, gojo, but i already have a valentine.”
cue satoru’s jaw dropping for the third time today.
you can't hold back a laugh and megumi smiles victoriously at his sister.
she smiles at satoru, sheepishly, patting his hand. “it's sota, from school.” you grin at her. “and i thought you were going to ask y/n.”
satoru groans and falls against the counter. “hated by everyone in my family,” he whines, “i work so hard to provide, i plan the perfect valentine’s day—“
“i don’t think buying a stuffed animal counts as ‘planning.’”
“and it’s all for nothing. no one loves me.”
megumi goes to take the bear from satoru, and the man doesn’t even fight back, just lets the boy take it with no argument, probably not even noticing when it’s gone.
you laugh at him, again.
tsumiki pokes him, getting satoru to look at her. “there’s always next year,” she says, trying to be encouraging.
satoru bangs his head against the counter again, and megumi slithers over to you, holding the bear out.
“here, i got you two.”
“megumi!” you say, mock surprised. “you have excellent taste.”
satoru is going to have a concussion by the end of this night.
*
it’s several hours later when you’re tidying up the living room that you catch him.
“satoru,” you glower, threatening. “don’t touch the ‘gumi bears.”
he blinks. “are you kidding?” he makes a distasteful face. “‘gumi bears?”
tsumiki giggles from where she’s putting books on a shelf, and megumi turns from dusting the blinds, his brows furrowed.
“it’s cute,” you tell satoru, shooing his hands away. “i don’t trust you with them.”
“why not?” satoru asks you, fluttering his eyelashes. the picture of innocence. “i’m only going to go burn them outside.”
“no!” tsumiki says, running over to the couch to block him from them.
“we won’t let you, satoru,” you say, hands wrapping around the little girl's arms. “you’re just a cynic.”
he pouts. “i’m being punished for my kindness.”
and then there’s a tap on your waist. you look down at megumi, with his frown.
“what?”
“‘gumi bears?”
“do you like it?” you ask him, teasing. “me and tsumiki came up with it.”
he looks between you and his glowing sister—literally, her widest, most precious smile on—and finally sighs.
“yeah,” he murmurs. though it sounds like a struggle to get the word out. “i like it.”
“‘gumi!” tsumiki squeals, tackling him onto the couch in a hug, giggling when he goes stiff but doesn’t fight her back.
satoru taps your hand, and you turn to him with your brow raised. he does not say anything, just hums while smiling at you.
“what?” you ask, amused.
and then you turn to catch his hand trying to strangle the bears, and you tackle him onto the couch.
but satoru, unlike megumi, acts like that was his plan all along, squeezing you into a hug you can't break away from.
*
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i was playing "here with me" by d4vd and i lowkey got emotional ngl
bad day
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: satoru can take things seriously... seriously, he can(not).
warnings: lil angst, fluffy, the children are side characters (not), tiny little argument (very tiny), nanami mention!?!?@@?#
a/n: i was going to write a cute valentines day thing but instead i overanalyzed the way all of these characters push their emotions away and here were are (: (also sorry yall i was buried beneath the earth for a couple days)
last part | next part
*
year two.
satoru has been watching you for at least three minutes. he tries to pretend that his eyes flicker away every couple of seconds—checking his phone or laughing at something or doing anything but staring—but he knows that his eyes never drift for long.
it’s not his fault, actually. on any normal day he’s usually staring at you—discreetly, he swears—watching your smile when he says something stupid, or your frown when he’s messing around. your eyes when they’re tired, your lips when they’re moving (or staying still, honestly).
but this isn’t his usual method of observing you. with the back and forth and the peering gaze.
and because he took off his glasses as soon as he got home, he knows that you should be able to tell.
but you haven’t said anything, which is the second sign that something is wrong.
“what’s going on?” he asks after the silence has faded into something uncomfortable.
his usual tactic is to wait for you to notice the silence and say something, but it’s not working. honestly, satoru’s not even sure if you know that he’s still there. usually, the two of you pick up on each other like magnets, just drawn closer, an obvious pull between your presences.
but you’re kinda far away, leaning back every time he leans forward.
“what?” you look up, finally, eyes wide with surprise. he might as well have just caught you stealing something. “what?” you repeat, less shocked.
“what happened?”
if you were a normal person, you would be radiating negative energy, he thinks.
you sigh, shaking your head. you think he’s joking—which is the point of his tone, of his words—but he’s not. just trying to get you to roll your eyes or push him away or tell him to go somewhere else.
anything you might usually do.
but you only frown, looking away again. “satoru, what are you talking about?”
“you.” he answers, quickly. “this… this.” he gestures to all of you.
“nothing,” you slap his hand back, finally rolling your eyes. “i'm fine. i'm good.”
“the kids say something?”
“nothing unusual. tsumiki asked if she could go to dinner with a friend friday night—“
“what about you?”
“what about me?”
“you’re frowning.”
you sigh. “cause i'm trying to make dinner and you’re distracting me.”
but you falter a little bit because he’s not wrong.
satoru can see it. and you’re a terrible liar.
“hey,” he pulls you away from the counter, getting your eyes on his. “talk to me.”
“it’s nothing, satoru,” you say, clearly trying to make the words stronger than they are. “i'm just tired.”
“you didn’t sleep?”
“i did…”
“and you’re tired?” he pokes, trying to catch you in your obvious lie.
it doesn’t take words—a confession, some truth—for him to see the other kind of tired in your eyes. the kind that he’s only noticed on cloudy days when you were alone on campus, or when he ignores something he knows you want him to talk about.
it’s a look he hates. the kind of eyes that shake him to his very core.
not that he’ll ever admit that to you, or anyone else. he shouldn’t care if you’re sad, or something of the sort. it’s none of his business.
and yet, right now, those thoughts don’t matter to him at all.
“it’s just been a long day,” you whisper, gesturing around you.
“why?”
you groan. “i need to finish dinner, okay? i just want—“ you breathe out.
“what?”
“a little space. i just…”
“what?” his brows are furrowed.
“go hang out with tsumiki,” you whisper, “or annoy megumi for a bit, or something. dinner will be ready in, like, forty-five minutes,” you’re almost pleading when you whisper, like an afterthought, “leave me alone for a while?”
the shake of his head is almost unconscious. “not until you talk to me.”
“i don’t want to talk.”
“i don’t care,” he says, in the same patronizing tone.
“satoru, honestly, i’m trying to cook and you’re getting in the way—“
“just tell me what happened.”
“nothing happened,” you say, trying to convince the two of you. “i just don’t feel very good, is all. it’s nothing.”
“clearly, it’s not nothing.”
“it’s nothing,” you repeat, harshly.
“how can i help?” he wonders, watching as you try to tilt away from him. “do you want me to—“
“seriously,” you almost snap. “i want to be alone, for a bit, alright?” your voice is stronger than it’s been since you walked in the door. your eyes are hard as you look away from him. “i just want a couple minutes without someone clinging to me, or asking me for something. is that okay with you?”
satoru watches your face, the way your eyes flicker shut, the brief quivering of your lips.
and he could say something—crack a joke, ask you if you’re okay again, prod for an explanation—but he’s always been fond of running instead of doing the right thing.
so he does.
you asked for space, and he might as well give it to you. he can do at least that.
he goes into the living room, ruffling megumi’s hair as he sits on the couch, but he doesn’t say anything.
and he doesn’t see the glance between the two children, the wide eyes. but he can almost feel it when you lean against the counter, letting out a frustrated sigh.
*
dinner is very quiet. tsumiki chats with megumi idly, smiling every time she remembers something about her day, or when megumi shows an ounce of interest in what she said.
you ask her questions every once and a while, like you’re just remembering that you’re supposed to be listening to her.
satoru doesn’t comment on this. he does the same, poking at both of the kids while they feast like animals.
and then megumi is clearing the table, and tsumiki is helping put everything in the kitchen away, and satoru washes the dishes, noticing immediately when you disappear.
he pats both of the kids on the back, saying something about leaving cleaning up in their capable hands, before he follows.
his movements are out of his command. he hasn’t said anything—hoping to give you what you asked him to—but he’s only so strong.
he finds you in his bedroom, sitting on his bed like you’re the one who messed up the sheets.
satoru is so concerned he doesn’t even think about you being there. on his bed. he doesn’t even blink.
but he shuts the door behind him, waiting.
“hey,” you say to him, so soft it’s almost inaudible. “i’m sorry.”
satoru leans against the doorjamb, a small smile on his face that you’re not looking at. it feels pointless. “dinner wasn’t too bad,” he shrugs, “i mean, could’ve used some salt, but i’m not complaining.”
you don’t smile at his tease, don’t turn your head to shoot him a look. his icebreaker has done nothing but come back to hit him in the eye.
his smile drops to something more asinine, a bit broken as it lays upon his face. “what’s going on?”
“i, um…” your lips purse, and you shake your head. “i’m sorry, satoru. for snapping at you. i’ve been—“ you sigh again, the words all broken and clipped like you’re not sure how they go together. it’s such a weird apology, sounds so wrong coming from you. “it’s been a rough day i shouldn’t have… i shouldn’t take it out on any of you. i didn’t mean to upset you,” you finally look at him, your eyes almost pleading.
satoru’s brows raise in surprise. “i’m not upset.”
“you haven’t talked to me in two hours.”
“you asked me not to,” he shrugs, again, uselessly. “i was just following orders.”
you watch him like he’s going to reveal a secret. “…really?”
he feels the grin creep on his face. “had to happen sometime.”
you shake your head, though your lips twitch—and satoru might be the only one who can sense that relief, the tiny pinprick of exhaustion leaking onto your skin.
he walks over to the bed, sitting next to you. “tell me about it.”
“you don’t want to hear it. it’s all stupid.”
“hey,” he nudges you, fingertips dancing on your thigh. “you say a lot of stupid things and i always listen.”
“i’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
his head rests on yours. “talk,” he demands, soft.
and he can feel it as the emotions overflow—a secret he’s always kept to himself, that knowledge of everything that happens within your body, the walls that can’t keep him out—but he doesn’t move. just waits.
it’s sort of excruciating, but then you’re always telling him that he’s a masochist.
“i was just thinking about…” satoru hears you swallow, and he nods against your head like he understands even though he doesn’t. “about everything.”
“wow. way to narrow it down.”
you pinch his leg.
he grabs your hand, tucking it under two of his as a pure method of defense. your skin is warm and a bit clammy.
“i—“ you pause. breathe in and out very slowly. “nanami called me, yesterday.”
satoru freezes. the two of you almost avoid talking about school—about jujutsu—on principle. like you’re trying to distance yourself from the years of wear and tear. banish all of the bad from a broken timeline.
“he did?” he whispers, eventually.
“he, um, wants to get lunch or something. sometime. talk about stuff.”
“that’s… nice.”
you laugh. “it’s nice that the only other person left in my year is finally reaching out?” you say, dryly. “after leaving me, and pretty much everything else behind? and that he wants to talk?”
satoru muses, “nanami always knew all the best lunch spots.”
“you would only care about that.”
“hey, a free meal is no joke.”
“says the man who bought four separate dinners last week. and ate them all.”
“i can't control the cravings,” satoru says, whining to you, “i’m a growing boy.”
you laugh, and satoru takes pride in the way your body shakes against him. the little giggle he’d like to claim as his own.
“so, did he say why? something happen?”
“no… i’ll text him, every once and a while. just to check in, you know. but he usually doesn’t answer,” there’s an edge to your words, and you brush it off. “he probably just feels guilty. thinks i’m pining for him, or something.”
satoru snorts. “because nanami has ever felt guilty about anything.”
you sigh. “he does, actually,” you turn to meet his eyes. “why do you think he left?”
satoru considers it, for just a second too long. he thinks about what he might feel if you left instead. and then he throws that thought as far away from the two of you as possible. “…i don’t know.”
“he never really liked being a sorcerer, obviously. but after haibara… nanami isn’t like you and me. he can’t just—just shut out those feelings. ignore them,” you shake your head, pulling your hand from satoru’s.
“what do you mean?” he asks, before he can think about it.
your lip twitches, and you shake your head at him. you know so much more than he does, and he’s not sure how to catch up.
but you don’t give him the chance. “i know—i know he had to leave. i mean, i’ve thought about it too, how much easier everything would be if i…”
there’s a moment where satoru feels frozen to his core. like he’ll never be able to hold onto tight enough to get you to stay. that he’ll lose another person just because he wasn’t strong enough.
but you smile at him, sort of sad, and then you say, “i just don’t know why he had to leave me, too.”
his face falls, seeing the glimmer of sliver in your eyes.
satoru has seen you cry before. at movies, on difficult missions, when tsumiki asked to cuddle on the couch with you for the first time. he’s seen it before, the tears sliding down your face like a release he’ll never get to know.
but it’s never made him feel like this. never made him feel like he might tear through the world—might return to that numb space, where nothing really matters—just so he doesn’t have to see it ever again.
you wipe the tear away as it comes.
he understands that feeling so completely. that inevitable question, where there’s no stopping the thought that maybe if you did something different, it might not have happened. maybe if he was enough, satoru thinks, he could’ve gotten him to stay.
but this isn’t about him. and he doesn’t want to tell you that he’s pretty sure the feeling will never go away.
satoru licks his lips, so angry that he never knows what to say.
so angry that he's never been enough for this.
“sorry,” you whisper, voice a bit rough with emotion. “i know it’s silly. it’s his life.”
“it’s not,” he answers immediately. “it’s not silly.”
you give him a half smile, finally leaning away. you look down at the floor, still considering something with your brows furrowed.
“what?” satoru leans forward, to catch your eyes.
you sigh. “it’s stupid to be sad about this when i have so much to be grateful for,” you tell him, quickly, the words harsher than before. “i'm always telling megumi to try and focus on the good and appreciate the people he has instead of worrying. but—here i am, feeling sorry for myself about something that shouldn’t even matter.”
“megumi gets stuck in those thoughts for weeks,” satoru responds, just as quickly. “you can have a bad day.”
you shake your head. “you never do.”
satoru falters, pausing. and then he reaches out, turning your head towards him. and he throws on his smile—the one he knows will make you roll your eyes. “that’s because all of my days are bad,” he whispers.
you smile back. it's an offering, of sorts. “true.”
he frowns at you, still unsure how to relieve this pain. “you take good care of all of us,” he says, instead.
“i know.”
you lean your forehead against his, not protesting when satoru wraps his arms around you in response, pulling you tighter into him—trying to pretend like eventually he’ll let you go.
he moves to rest his head on yours, nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in--hoping that your presence alone will tell him what to do. because you always know.
what would you do if the situations were reversed?
“let me take care of you, okay?” the words are so sudden that you try to pull back, but he doesn’t let you. “if you’re having a bad day, let me handle dinner. or take the kids to their clubs. anything to help you feel… lighter. and when you get lunch with nanami, you don’t have to worry about us. we’ll be okay.”
“satoru…”
“i know that i pushed this all on you,” he smiles, sheepishly, the only version of apology he knows. “but there’s no one who would’ve handled it better. and i… i don’t want you to regret any—“ he cuts off, unsure what he even means.
“i’ll never regret it. i never have.” this time, you force him to let you meet his eyes. “you don’t need to worry about that.”
“i wasn’t,” he answers, lying.
you laugh.
satoru’s eyes soften at your smile. “talk to me, next time, okay? i like it when you need me.”
you push him away.
and at the same time, there’s a knock on the door, and two tiny heads peeking in.
“you guys okay?” tsumiki asks, her eyes blinking over the tangled legs and tear stains.
megumi doesn’t even pause before saying, “gojo did you eat all of the mochi?”
satoru grins.
you groan and megumi probably throws something at him, but satoru isn’t really paying attention.
just staring at you. for a different reason this time.
*
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"if someone was going to come and steal your children back, now might be a perfect opportunity" 😞🫶🏽
reassurance
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: megumi can't sleep
warnings: reader teases megumi, missing satoru
last part | next part
*
year one.
it’s your first night with the kids alone.
and you’re not nervous—no, not at all. having satoru around is basically like having a toddler who’s learned how to walk and gets into cupboards (just maybe slightly more annoying and less cute), so why would you be worried without him here?
honestly, it’s probably better this way. there’s no one to annoy megumi into hiding in his room all night. no one to use terrible pickup lines and swear that they’re working (they are).
but… you will admit that his presence is a reassurance of its own.
not just because of his power, or his strength, though that’s certainly something to consider. if someone was going to come and steal your children back, now might be a perfect opportunity. you know that they would lurk at your door waiting for a single moment that satoru was gone. and it would probably work, except for the fact that you’d sooner skin yourself with a dull knife from satoru’s kitchen than let that happen.
obviously, satoru wouldn’t need to go to such extremes. one blink from him and any threat would basically evaporate.
but it’s not even that.
satoru has always been that reassurance for you. despite any complaints you have about his attitude and the stupid things he says… it’s a welcome escape from the interminable worries in your mind.
you’d discovered this at sixteen when the two of you were alone on a mission for the first time.
if you were worried, if you got hurt, if you had a single doubt hidden beneath the warmth of your cursed energy or the bravado you’d foolishly flung around at that age—satoru was the complete opposite of all of that.
he would wave off your fears with a raised eyebrow. would laugh off your injuries before dragging you to the infirmary. he would take your doubts—with all of their hidden strength and knowledge—and purify them to a pulp.
you’ve never quite understood it.
where suguru would share your fears with you, assuring that you weren’t alone in the world of morality and fear, satoru would think of absolutely nothing at all.
and make fun of him all you want, but it was a nice break from logic and emotion. you’d admired him at sixteen for being so detached from the world and its curses.
(now, sometimes, it worries you. has he fallen so far from humanity that he can’t feel any of it? is he immune to the tortures of living in a world like yours?)
and you got used to being alone with those thoughts and doubts. you had to, even if you’d missed him desperately for a time that felt much longer than a year.
but you’ve also never had two children in your care, never had to worry about anything but yourself and the consequences of your very minute actions.
now every action feels like a tidal wave you could point in any direction.
if satoru was here, you think, at least you could blame the mistakes on him. comparatively, one of you is much better at being a responsible adult for tsumiki and megumi (hint: not the strongest sorcerer of the modern age).
and with satoru on some egregious mission—to who knows where, directed by only the people who hate him the most—you’re stuck in his house, with the kids, all alone.
it feels much too big in here without satoru’s ego to fill it.
maybe if you’d had a day to prepare you’d be better off. but satoru called you six hours ago with the news—and you know that he did it on purpose—telling you that you should just stay the night. you can even sleep in my bed, he’d drawled to you, just like you’ve always dreamed of.
you could’ve told him to go to hell, you know, if it weren’t for the sweetest little girl and the grumpiest little boy you’d ever met.
and, actually, it hasn’t gone too bad so far.
you made them dinner, which they both ate diligently like if they didn’t finish every bit on their plates you would kick them out—who knows if they liked it with the people-pleasing brats. and then they’d sat on the couch, commenting on some movie you’d never heard of.
and now, at ten o’clock at night, you’re cleaning up the kitchen worrying about the very monsters you’d trained for four years to deal with.
it's absolutely ridiculous, but there's no one here to tell you that.
“what’s wrong with your face?” a voice says, suddenly.
you turn to see megumi in the ridiculous pajamas satoru insisted on getting him—with some type of cat on them for god knows why—standing in the kitchen doorway with his signature frown.
“jeez,” you breathe out, leaning against the counter—pretending like your cursed energy hadn’t surged in your fists the moment you saw him there—and crossing your arms. “don’t scare me like that, kid. did satoru tell you to do that?”
you almost want to laugh at how his frown deepens at the mention of his name.
“sorry,” he murmurs, going to sit on a bar stool, just a bit too short to do it elegantly. “what’s wrong?”
“what? nothings wrong.”
“your face looks weird.”
oh, another thing about tonight. megumi is a lot more forthcoming when satoru isn’t around—you choose not to dwell on the prospects of that. you wonder what he’s like when you’re not around.
“i was just thinking," you say, blandly.
“you have to have a freaky look on your face to think?”
“okay, judgy," you sigh, leaning against the counter across from him, a brow quirked. "what are you doing up? it’s late.”
megumi shrugs. “can't sleep.”
he says it like he’s dealt with the same problems for many years like he’s not six years old and missing a tooth. it would be cute—how old and mature he seems—if it didn’t worry you.
satoru would coo at him, call him an old soul and ruffle his hair until megumi smacked him away.
but you wonder if he’s less an old soul and more of a hurt child.
“are you thinking about the scary movie satoru showed you?” you ask him, frowning. “i heard tsumiki had nightmares about it a couple days ago.”
“no. it wasn’t that scary. tsumiki just doesn’t like monsters.”
“and you do?”
he shrugs again.
you tap your fingers against the countertop. “have you been up this whole time?”
he nods. his movements are short and exact. “why are you still awake?”
“i was cleaning up.”
“gojo usually doesn’t do that until morning."
“what did we discuss at dinner?” you ask, rhetorically, shaking your head. “don’t do anything satoru does.”
megumi nods again, very seriously.
“do you need something? warm milk? my mom used to give me that when i couldn’t sleep.”
the boy frowns. “gross.”
“don’t knock it till you try it,” you tell him, smiling a little. “you were a baby once too.”
he shakes his head and you laugh. you should be scolding him and telling him to go back to sleep, but it's rare when you get a moment alone with the little boy. you're almost savoring it.
“did you try counting sheep?” you ask, teasing him. it's very easy when he looks almost... comfortable.
he rolls his eyes, messing with a wrapper satoru left lying around, but you can tell that he's trying not to smile too. after three months with him, it's almost easy to see the subtle shift in his features.
“when’s gojo going to be back?” he asks, after a moment, looking up at you with dark blue eyes. his voice is quieter, still like a portrait.
you pause, considering. it's a surprising change of subject. honestly, you hadn't even thought that megumi had noticed he was gone. “um… i’m not sure. it could be tomorrow, it could be a couple days from now. it depends on how far he had to go for work.”
“he’s killing curses right?”
the words almost shock you into taking a step back, but you refrain.
you make a mental note to smack satoru the next time you see him.
your mouth opens. then you close it. “what does satoru tell you when i’m not here?”
he scratches his head. “just that we’re privileged and that i can see things other people can’t.”
you narrow your eyes at him.
“and that he’s the best.”
you roll your eyes. “yeah, that sounds like him.”
“is he?”
“hmm?”
“the best?”
you watch his eyes, suddenly wide, weirdly curious. “i guess,” you answer, a little teasing, a little serious. you don't really want to explain this to megumi. you shouldn't have to. “he’d be better if he didn’t brag about it all of the time.”
“so he kills those things a lot?”
“what do you mean?”
“it’s normal for him?” he clarifies, leaning his small arms on the counter to observe you closely.
if you weren't so used to this, you might feel a bit uncomfortable.
“um, yes." you answer, not sure how far to go. "it’s pretty standard for sorcerers.”
“like me, right?”
“yes.”
he nods, his brows still furrowed, thinking harder than a six-year-old should. in your personal opinion, he shouldn't have to worry about anything.
but satoru clearly doesn't share that sentiment.
it's quiet for a moment while megumi thinks about your words. he doesn't seem to be wary of his own powers, or the fact that he's been shoved into this world. but, still, this is a weird topic for him.
it makes you wish again that satoru was here, just so you don't have to explain everything alone. he's much more clear than you are.
after the silence draws on, megumi looks down at the counter with skeptical eyes, your brows raise in surprise. “are you--" you almost smile. "are you worried about him?”
megumi’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “what?” he snaps, voice harsher than you've heard it directed at you. “no.”
your lip twitches.
“it’s nice without him,” the boy continues. “he always tries to mess up my hair.”
because this is the worst thing that satoru has done to the boy, obviously.
you watch him as he looks away again, a little embarrassed. he shakes his head so his hair hides his face.
“oh, yeah," you respond, a little sarcastic. "why would you miss him?”
why would anybody?
“right.” he pauses. from this close, you can see a pattern of freckles on his pale skin. he looks up again. “are you worried?”
you almost smile. “no, he’s too annoying to get hurt.”
megumi nods immediately.
*
you’re eating breakfast with the kids when he appears at the table, his grin wide, his hair a bit wild.
satoru is sitting with the three of you before you can blink, his arms open wide, his blindfold a bit crooked.
you gasp and both children flinch away at his sudden appearance.
he is quite scary.
“hey, family,” he says to all of you, smoothly. “what’d i miss?”
megumi stands up from the table, taking a step away from the man, and you smack his head.
tsumiki just giggles.
*
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