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dameronology · 6 months

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couples therapy (frank castle)

summary: you go to couple's therapy with frank castle. it's just as terrible as you can imagine.

warnings: so much language. at least 10 f-bombs.

enjoy xx

Couples therapy felt like a stupid fucking idea, to be honest.

There was only three feet between you and Frank; you wanted to be closer but at the same time, you wanted to drop kick his loud-talking, argumentative, defensive ass to the other side of the city. No, scratch that. The country, or maybe even world. Somewhere far enough so that you didn't have to look at his stupid face but somewhere close enough that you could still reach out for him in the night. Somewhere far enough so that you couldn't hear that gravelly voice that made your skin crawl, but somewhere close enough so that he could still whisper horny sweet nothings in your ear.

And it was thoughts like that that made you realise why you were here.

There had been a few weeks of tension; that had grown into two months of shit bubbling under the surface. You were mad at him. He was mad at you. You couldn't bring it up because he'd accuse you of overreacting and he couldn't bring it up because even before all the PTSD-causing-crap he'd lived through, Frank was shit at coming to terms with how he felt about things. Vocalising his emotions wasn't his strongpoint. Revenge and killing was. So, safe to say that this was his personal form of hell. Anyways. That shit had hit the fan eventually and now it was splattered all over the room and it was covering you both and no matter how many metaphorical showers you took, nothing would fix this except the clean slate that emotional catharsis would bring you.

Maybe you'd break up. Maybe you'd stay together. Maybe it was all up to the gaunt, old man in the chair opposite you who reminded you a little too much of John Kramer and was draining $50 an hour from your bank right now. Did they do Groupons for couples therapy?

"So," he began. His name was Doctor Richards. He was a little too quiet for your liking. "Tell me...why are you here?"

Frank let out a gruff laugh. "Isn't that what you're here to tell us, Doc?"

"No, actually," he shook his head. "You explain your problems to me and I'll give you reasonable solutions to try and fix those problems."

There was a moment of silence, and Doctor Richards glanced at you.

"Is he always this defensive?"

It was your turn to laugh now.

"Uhhh, not always," you replied. "Not with me, at least. More so with other people."

"So he's more open with you?" the doctor raised his eyebrows, but then glanced between you. "Emotional vulnerability is a good sign. A sign of life - of course, unless, this has changed over the course of your relationship."

"It hasn't," Frank firmly said. "I laid myself bare the day we met. That hasn't changed."

"He's right," you nodded. "I just...I think you have a hard time articulating your feelings, Frank. Sometimes when you do open up to me, it turns into an argument."

"That's bullshit," Frank muttered.

You cleared your throat and turned to look back at your relationship saviour. "We're here because we argue too fucking much, doc. If I say nothing, he gets mad. If I respond, I'm overreacting-"

"- because you do overreact!" he interrupted you.

"Maybe because you never let me fucking talking talk!" you snapped.

"Guys!" Richards cut you both off. "This is a safe space and I'm going to give you both a chance to talk. That's how you get to the bottom of things."

You glanced at Frank. "Can I go first?"

"Yes."

Shuffling uncomfortably in your seat, you glanced down at your hands and cleared your throat. There was so much on your mind but a complete disconnect between your brain and your mouth; translating your thoughts into feelings was hard at the best of times, but even harder under pressure. You didn't want to say something to upset Frank, even less to hurt him.

"I..." you trailed off. "I've always been someone who likes to talk about things, you know? I like to communicate, especially with the people I love, so I'm always open when something upsets me or doesn't feel right. Conversation is important to me but I think you're different, Frank. You like to think and not feel and when you refuse to talk to me about shit, it hurts. It's like you can open up to me about all your feelings except the ones about me and in my mind,. those are the most important ones."

Frank didn't respond; he just looked at you.

"For someone that chats so much shit, you sure seem to keep quiet on a lot of things," you continued, voice dropping to a murmur now. "I'm not overreacting when I respond the way I do. It's just fucking frustrating."

He looked away, brown eyes staring blankly at the wall behind Richards for a moment. That was the first time in the better part of three years that you's actually seen Frank quiet.

(Save for when he was sleeping, and the time he almost died in the middle of your living room).

"I like to keep certain things quiet," Frank finally spoke. His eyes flickered from the wall, down to your new therapist. "I work a night job, doc. It gets stressful. I deal with some heavy shit."

"It's an overused saying, but a problem halved is a problem shared," Richards replied. "You have a partner who is willing to listen. One who I assume knows their threshold, and would tell you if sharing it was too much."

"He's right," you said. "When you shut me out and bottle it up, it builds up, and then you get shitty with me and it manifests itself in every part of your life. Of our lives. Because we're intertwined as shit, Frank, and you can't pick and choose what parts you share with me."

Frank sniffed. "Well, hell. Look at us breaking ground."

"A lot of people come into couple therapy assuming it means their relationship is over," Richards said. "That's almost never the case. It shows you're both willing to work on it."

Your eyes fell to the floor for a moment. Frank had been strangely willing to come here; it wasn't something you'd thought about too much before now, but his willingness felt like hope to you. This time a few years ago, he would have walked away at the first sign of trouble. Now he wanted to take your hand and walk towards it.

"I can't tell you about all your problems based entirely on this conversation, but I can...I can share some introspection from a third party perspective," Richards said. "Frank, you have a partner whose willing to listen, but...maybe they go about saying it in the wrong way. Maybe it feels forced, or like they're not letting you do it on their own terms."

"I guess," Frank murmured. "What if I don't want to share? What if...what if I just want to protect them from all this dark shit?"

"You can choose what you share," he replied. "But if you choose not to share, you have to communicate that."

The apartment was tense when you and Frank got back. It had been a tense two hours; talks of communication and honesty, of sharing your lives and being partners. It had been okay for the first hour, but as soon as you hit the second you felt like you'd kind of gotten the point. You and Frank weren't the worst couple in the world, and couple therapy was fucking boring. That had been your main take away.

You threw your keys on the side, dumping your jacket as you entered the flat. Everything was as you left it; washing up from breakfast in the sink, pile of boots by the door, a letter pinned on your notice board about an increase in rent. All things that were headaches in themselves, but simply just contributing factors to a bigger, ongoing migraine. Frank was behind you, dragging his feet and huffing.

"Something you want to share, Frankie?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

"That felt like bullshit."

You snorted. "I felt like I was being listened to for the first time in months. Maybe that speaks volumes."

"Oh, come on," he rolled his eyes. "How are we leavin' couples therapy and you're already having a go at me?"

"Sorry," you murmured. "Honestly, Frank, I'm just fucking frustrated. I've said all I need to say but...whether or not you wanna listen and actually work on it is what counts."

"Are you dumb?" Frank asked, but quickly regretted his choice of words. "Shit. Baby, I'm sorry - I didn't mean it like that-"

"- how the fuck did you mean it then, Franklin?"

He paused, holding his hands out for a moment. "I just sat in a cramped room with some Jigsaw lookin' motherfucker for the better part of two hours, listening to you complain - rightfully so, don't get me wrong - and tryna take notes on how I can be a better partner to you. Maybe it's not obvious, and maybe it won't be for hot a fuckin' minute, not until I've got my ducks in a line, or just shot em all, but just...I will try, okay? I need you to be patient with me but..."

Frank took your hand, placing your palm on his chest. He covered it with his own large one, tangling your fingers together and pausing for a moment.

"I need patience...please?"

You nodded, letting him squeeze your hand. "Yeah. Shit, Frankie, I'm sorry. I love you."

He smiled. "I love you too."

"We'll be okay, won't we?"

"Of course we will."

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle imagines #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #frank castle x you #frank castle reader insert #punisher x reader #punisher imagine #punisher imagines #punisher x you #marvel imagines #marvel x reader

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whalesforhands · 7 months

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digest your feelings pt.11 (finale) (satosugu x reader)

previous masterlist END

warnings: none, just fluff. and a sign off from a whale at the end

“Why… Do you even like me?” The night breeze gently brushes your face, your eyes staring up at the night sky above you.

A sight you haven’t seen in so long. Despite being out of the prison of your mind, you still shackle yourself to it.

“Like I said,” The botamochi that had initially been pressed against your lips leaves. “Liking you doesn’t need a reason.” Satoru is frowning as he leans down closer to you, arms folding over your torso as he wraps himself around you from behind, your front pressed against the railing of the balcony.

“You sure you don’t want a piece? The kids are gonna finish it off before you can even blink.”

(And you need to eat more.)

A strangely serene night despite everything that had happened today. The kids asleep within their parents’ master bedroom, yourself sneaking off soon after you ensured all of them were meant to be fast asleep, passed out.

(You didn’t account for how the men would be monitoring your every move. That’s how you’re here— Satoru right by your side as Suguru prepares some tea inside.)

Your newly acquired scar doesn’t burn, doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t feel like much. Not compared to what you feel inside.

You ignore his question, resolve growing inside you as you grit your teeth and spit out your vile thoughts.

“I— I have no idea what to do in this life.” You’re unsure, unable to make decisions. You don’t deserve to be standing here with them. You think your revival was a mistake.

He keeps quiet, but his arms are tightening up, his body pressing itself closer to you as you feel his chin rest upon your head. He’s listening.

The railing never looked more interesting compared to the cloudless night sky.

“I don’t have any direction other than being a jujutsu sorcerer. I know I have to save— Others. Because I can. Because I’m one of the ones capable of doing that—“

But you can’t even do that well.

You’re so lost. You don’t know where to go, what to do. Who are you, even? Is that all you are? A jujutsu sorcerer.

Exactly what are you getting at, spouting all this nonsense? What is compelling you to speak so freely, so nonsensically?

“What if you find me… boring? What if after—“ You pause to suck in a breath as your voice dies into a whisper, realization dripping into your tone as you listen to yourself. “What if after a while you get tired of me and want to get rid of me…? I-I’m not—“ Suguru. Not Satoru. You’re neither of them. Neither of these perfect pieces of a whole.

He opens his mouth to reply, but you shut him out, cut him off.

“What if you don’t like who I really am?”

Ahh— Rattling off about your insecurities, those creeping little thoughts about yourself in efforts to make yourself less attractive. Less appealing to him. What were you aiming for? Satoru kicking you out and asking you to leave? Him saying he never really liked you? Him admitting that he’s only doing this out of pity? Maybe you really were better off dead.

You hear a huff of exasperation from above you, feel his body dropping even more of his weight onto you as you blank out silently, letting him simply hold you.

Maybe this will be the last time. Maybe he finally realizes you aren’t what he imagined you to be. You were gone for— How long? Nevertheless, it should be long enough for them to conjure an image of ‘you’.

Meeting expectations were never your strongpoint.

There’s a hum from him, his fingers tapping against the fabric of the shirt Suguru had gotten out of the closet for you to wear. One of theirs.

“You think too much.”

He’s thankful, really. That you’re starting to talk. To start speaking your mind more. But what exactly can he do to make you realise what he has been learning, knowing for years?

There’s a beat. Before he whirls you around to face him, to face those blue eyes that you’ve been denied of seeing. His forehead is pressed against yours in intimate proximity, soft skin against your own as the shadows of your surroundings highlighted the crystalline jewels meeting yours.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I do, you know? You’re so dumb sometimes.”

…is he insulting you? You can’t tell, not when the shine of his lips catch your attention, the pull, lull of his intrinsic charm that your heart jumps up at.

He’s cute. And he notices your charmed gaze.

(Too soon. He doesn’t want to scare you away again.)

“By the way!” His arm is holding you close just as he wills himself to pull away from you, separating yourselves before he unforgivingly escalates the situation. Your eyes meet with your own reflection staring back at you from… A cellphone lacking the usual buttons you were used to.

“Gonna show Utahime your pretty face!” His cheek is squished against yours as you blink up at the modern item.

…where’s the honourifics? Where is the ‘senpai’ at the end…?

“She’s soooo gonna freak when she finds out you came back to life after 6 years.”

You nearly choke on the air you just breathed in, in time with the sliding of the balcony door, Shoko dressed down in casual clothing and carrying a large bag with her.

“Hi.” It’s almost excited, the undertone of giddy happiness masked by her cool exterior, a hand on her hip as she watches Gojo snap more and more shots of yourself and him. Together. “Suguru let me in. I wanted to see you— Again.”

Her smile is radiant. Her eyebags a little lighter. “I brought you undergarments. And a few necessities. I don’t trust them.” Her face reveals her excitement, her relaxed posture, hee brimming gait. You just don’t understand how long it has been since she could confidently pick up an item and think of you you you.

(You’d be blushing up a storm if she had seen the sheer amount of clothing presented to you after you had stepped out the bath.)

“Huhhhhh?” Gojo’s leaning against you, pulling you closer to him as his hands spider across your upper back protectively, his smugness radiating off of him in waves. “You haven’t seen the collection Suguru and I bought then! It’s wayyyy better than whatever you have—!”

“Satoru… Be a gentleman.” Suguru appears, a tray of tea held within his hands as he appears, blankets tucked onto his arm as Shoko politely takes a cup of tea.

(Anyone would need it after having to stand within 2 metres of Gojo Satoru.)

“Suguru…” You can hear him intake a sharp breath at the mention of his name from your lips. The tray clanking down onto the nearby glass surface of a miniature table, Gojo gently pushing you forward and near the warmth of Geto, ensuring to not expose your skin to the night before he departs to sip at the sugary abomination created by his beloved. (Specially made just to cater to his tastes.)

“It’s wonderful that you’re— Saying my name.” The flutters in his heart refuse to still. “Though, I’d appreciate it if it weren’t with such dejection.”He stares into your eyes, adjusting the blanket as it flutters around you to keep you warm, the quiet banter between Shoko and Satoru filling your ears as his gaze holds you, slowly, patiently watching you try to find every word that you want.

“I’m just…” Your eyes blank out as your fingers start to dig themselves into your palms, the chill of insecurity, alarm and hopelessness about your own self coming to haunt you.

(The cold night already feels warm in all three of their presence… And yet—)

But you can be honest, right? They’d want you to be.

“In a hurry to be a bit more useful.” You whisper it, unsure and cracked, like you were going to cry, going to break.

“It’s okay,” His hand is upon your cheek, caressing and nurturing. He’s happy to see the colour, feel the sheer life once again. It almost feels like he’s still dreaming as he touches warm skin, tastes the energy that radiates from your body, hears your heart pumping vitality into what was once a mere corpse.

It’s an ephemeral feeling, overridden by the affection and love his soul held, reflected in his his soft eyes and softer tone. “You don’t have to rush back into being part of that—“ His mind flashes to the civilia— No, monkeys that surrounded your corpse, the higher-ups that failed you, failed him. Failed this family of his.

This family that he and Satoru clawed and massacred through to keep.

“World.” The words are said with an edge to them, a bit of malice, hatred and calmed anger.

You don’t need to go back at all, honestly. Just stay here— Forever.

“But I—“ Feel like you’re useless. Feel like you’re imposing. Feel like you’re worthless.

“How about this?” Gojo’s hugging himself around all of you, dragging Shoko along with him as he takes the spotlight, Shoko layering on her own provided blanket onto you as you feel the lanky deathgrip clasping, dragging all three of you into him.

“Stay home for a while and get used to life!”

——

“Satoru.” Suguru’s voice is soft, the way the man’s name melts off of his tongue so sweet it makes even you gush. “I have to make breakfast. Let go.”

Their sofa is surprisingly soft, comfortable and very pleasant to sleep on. Shoko making herself at home by taking up the entirety of the armchair nearby as she stays fast asleep, much alike the snoring Gojo holding onto both yourself and Geto, his arms stretching both under and over your bodies respectively as you stayed stuck in the middle between them.

“Nghh— Mm…” He’s ineligible in his slumber, unrelenting and letting his head bury impossibly deeper into the crook of your neck and feeling your skin with his own, a chuckling Suguru right by your ear as he feels the tightening of the honoured one’s arm around his waist.

He’s the first to notice that you’re awake, smiling at you as he continued to lay on his side. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that it was a bit suffocating to have both of them clinging onto you for the entirety of the night.

“Good morning… It was comfortable.” You try not to shift— Stutter in your words as you feel lips mumbling incoherent sentences into the sensitive skin of your neck, Suguru’s hand stroking your hair back as you remain still.

“I’m glad to hear it.” The smile in his eyes is absolutely gorgeous to see, the shine of purple in the morning glow, akin to the beautiful glows of an evening dusk that begets the stuttering of your heartbeat.

“Hah! I knew they’d be here!” It’s not long before you feel weights basically pounce onto the trio of you huddled together, Suguru absorbing most of the blow due to basically having his body draped over you, Satoru finally stirring as he feels the pounding at his navel.

“Wake up, wake up!” Nanako’s voice is loud, hee energy rampant as she jumps up and down on Suguru, stirring everyone awake as Mimiko cuddles up to you, crawling underneath your blanket and onto you with her stuffed animal. Megumi isn’t far behind, choosing to sit down at the foot of the couch and stare as Tsumiki is vigorously shaking Satoru awake.

“It’s morning!!!”

(“Good god… 5 minutes more…” Shoko is hiding herself underneath her own blanket as Megumi stares at her.

“Didn’t you tell us that monsters will come get us if we don’t wake up on time?”

She has no heart to tell them that the ‘monsters’ was just Suguru’s calm anger if he ever found out she let the kids be late for school.)

——

You stare proudly at the perfectly cut out, perfectly browned and perfectly spread slices of cute toasts shaped into adorable little bears.

“Wooooahh…!” Tsumiki is the one whose beside you, ever the responsible one to help out for breakfast as she eyes the cute creations.

“You’re so amazing, Mama!” Her eyes shine with excitement as her brown hair draped and swung about around her face. Excited jumping in place as she continued to admire your work.

(You’ve always wanted to try this back when Shoko showed you some in a food magazine back then. And Tsumiki staring at pictures of it whilst concentrating hard on the bread pushed you to help.)

Despite the lack of a toaster, you managed to make the perfect slices with a skillet. The proud surge of pride fills yourself momentarily. Though, the crackling of the burnt slices not far away from the little experimenting make it hard to revel in your accomplishment.

“Now what do we do with the bad ones, Mama?” She’s caught your gaze, staring at them, poking the pieces she had unfortunately burnt in efforts to make the perfect breakfast for her family. “I’m sorry for messing up so much…”

Oh. You’re definitely not going to let her think that. The little faces of the cartoonish, almost burnt to black, bears sear your hand lightly as you pick up a slice.

“Don’t worry— I like my bread with a little… Crisp.” You’re still smiling, holding a slice in your hand as your hand is upon her head, stroking comfortingly.

Carcinogenic or not, it is a small price to pay to see her happy.

“Are you sure?” She’s looking worried, guilty even as she looks up at you.

“I’m sure.” Without a moment’s more of hesitation, you bite down.

You chew the burnt crusts, the crunch of the toast and crumbling of the ash feels bitter, hot on your tongue as you fight back a grimace. It leaves with a lingering burn as you swallow, tottering down your throat in incinerated lumps.

“See? I like it…!” You’re still smiling, patting her on the head. “I think that for your first try, you did very well, darling.”

Edible, but definitely not the most palatable. It’d be a waste to let it all go to the trash though, since it was her hard work. Your eyes narrow, squinting at the aftertaste of the creation as you turn around to reach for the jam to trick your tastebuds to intake the burnt mess of a breakfast.

“I’ll polish it off in no time with a little jam, so don’t worry and—“

Only for your front to be face to face with a sturdy chest that even you were too stunned to react to the sheer sight of.

“Satoru, that isn’t sweet…!” Your hands are dragging him down by the shoulders, voice tuckered into a whisper as you try to snatch it away before his reaction could possibly blow out of proportion. Yet, his broad form, despite easily allowing you to drag him down closer to you to reach for the burnt bread crusts, his hand holds it up high in the air as he continues to chew, completely dodging your attempts.

He doesn’t even respond, a hand going around your waist to keep your front pressed against his as he continues to stuff his face with the failed creations, slowly but surely packing it into his cheeks and having the gall to even contentedly hum as you struggle and fight against him, flashing a grin towards the confused Tsumiki with your hand on one of his shoulders as you press down, trying your best before you give in, stopping entirely.

You lose, of course. He’s the great Gojo Satoru. “Mmm… Could use a little jam, sweethearts.”

Tsumiki’s eyes are lighting up. “Is it really good? I wanna try too!”

The plate is confiscated by your own hands before she could try. “I-I think you should go help Papa get the others ready for school, and make sure they have breakfast on time, okay??” You’re trying to hide your panic, break free of Gojo’s embrace as you try to keep her from her creation.

“Well—“ She thinks momentarily. “Okay then!” She’s skipping off. “Papa, Gumi, Nana, Mimi! Breakfast is ready! Mama and I made the best breakfast ever!”

You let out a sigh of relief, placing down the plate and practically going limp in his hold as your face is planted onto his pecs out of sheer ease from the situation, not even registering the fact that you’re pressed up against his half-naked form.

“You did good, ya know?” He’s smiling down at you. “Don’t think I would’ve done that well.”

You’d make a great mother.

“You’re good at anything you try, Satoru.” Your hands come up to cup his face, gently thumbing off the tiny remnants of the crusts near his lips.

“Now let me go so I can plate the eggs.”

“Nope!” He’s popping the ‘p’, tightening his grip. “Not until I get my fill of you!”

(“Auntie Shoko… Don’t you hate sweet things?” Nanako is staring up at the lady as she chews on one of the cute toasts with strawberry jam spread.

“I do.” Shoko mumbles with a mouthful of toast in her mouth as a light smile encompasses her expression. “But I think they’re growing on me again.”)

——

“Are those new?” He nods, eyes fully concentrated on the strings of his shoelaces, his small fingers holding onto the aglets and doing his best to knot the fabric.

He’s 9, for god’s sake. And about to be extremely embarrassed if he can’t tie them in front of you.

(Nanako and Mimiko still use velcro, but you can’t blame him for how he thought Tsumiki was cool for being the only one with the tie-up ones. Like a grown-up.)

You watch him as he slowly tied the laces, failing and retrying. You want to commend him for not giving up… Yet, want to help.

You sit right next to him, taking a pair of sneakers that seemingly belong to Satoru… Maybe Suguru? No matter. You put them on, slowly doing the laces with careful precision, doing each motion as a slow example.

Megumi watches intently.

“I thought you weren’t going out.”

“No. Stay home and rest. I’ll be back after dropping them off, okay?”

“You can come with us tomorrow.”

Seriously. Nothing can escape this child.

“I’m—“ You sigh. “I’m not. I just wanted to help you out without— You thinking I’m annoying.”

He remains quiet after listening to your words. “…they never taught me how. So I— Don’t know. And I don’t want to bother my sister.” It’s his whispered admittance, gaze avoidant and shy. Still trying so hard to be independent, trying to show that he’s strong.

You’re both left alone as the kids totter about Suguru and Satoru in the kitchen, who are trying to pack their lunches.

“I can teach you.”

“…thanks.”

——

“See you all later then.” You lean down, pressing a kiss against Nanako’s forehead, the girl squealing as she hugs you back as a response.

Mimiko’s next, tucking into herself as she feels the peck on her forehead, a happy flush across her cheeks as she hugs her plush close. “And for her too!” She’s holding it up to your face as you giggle and give one to her friend too.

Tsumiki takes her time, letting you fuss over her a little and tuck her bangs in. “I like having them hang over like this though!” Okay, okay. You relent, letting her have it as you kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Mama!” She’s giggling. She thinks she won’t ever be too old to receive affection like this.

Megumi’s eyes are shifting all around, his steps nervous and almost embarrassed as he’s last in line. “I didn’t expect you to want one.” The blush on his face is furious and almost angry. “Just… Hurry up with it…!” He looks like he wants to burst, to explode where he stood. You relent and press a kiss to his nose, patting your hands onto the soft fluff of his hair when you’re done.

(He runs out the door soon after. So cute.)

You blink.

“Satoru…? What are you doing?” He’s right before you, squatting down and holding his knees, making himself seem small as he comes face to face with you.

He’s humming, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses as those endless black reflect your face onto them. “Waiting for my kiss?” It’s said with a tone of expectancy, almost as if it was common sense.

“…what?” You’re stunned as you stare back at him. A moment passes, and another beat.

He’s being serious. Well— Okay, you suppose. You lean forwards but stop yourself. You do love him… And legally married so… You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips, the surprise that overtakes him is more than welcome when you pull away to see a stark red Satoru that falls over backwards, a hand over his mouth, sunglasses flying off his face to reveal lovesick, puppylike blue.

Suguru appears almost instantaneously.

“My turn?”

You want to die of embarrassment.

——

“And then and then—!” Mimiko’s splaying herself out on your lap as she stares up at you. “Gumi took back my doll from the boy! And punched him straight in the face like Daddy does to the bad guys!”

Tsumiki’s right next to you, staring down a kneeling Megumi and Nanako before you as they bowed their heads in shame.

They both got into a fight at school with a group of boys after they tried to snatch Mimiko’s plush toy away.

(The surprising thing is that they won. You can’t help but feel a little proud about that. At the same time, you can’t believe you have to resolve this whilst Suguru and Satoru are having a parent conference with the whole group’s parents.)

“You both had good intentions— And I’m proud of you for defending your sister… But,” You harden your expression slightly. “You shouldn’t beat up a whole group of kids that badly.”

“…that it?” Megumi’s indignant, looking up at you from his kneeled position on the floor, bruises and bandages applied by you on his skin as Nanako stares up at you with guilty puppy eyes.

(Nanako has close to 0 injuries on her. Megumi made sure to take most of the blows.)

“Yea. But— No fighting anyone if—“ You look over at Tsumiki. “If you get injured like this. Don’t get into fights, stop them. Okay?”

They two guilty parties nod their heads.

“But if that doesn’t work still… You can beat them up.”

previous masterlist END

KOFI epilogue

Notes:

Megumi sometimes wake up in the middle of the night. To aid with this problem of his, he totters along to the master bedroom, clambering over either Gojo or Geto to reach you. He sits on your chest, shaking you awake until you stir.

Then, he proceeds to climb off, grabbing your hand on his way down to the foot of the bed as he leads a groggy you to his bedroom, where you should sleep with him instead.

Sometimes it doesn’t work because either or both of the men are entangling you inbetween their stupidly heavy, muscly and long arms and legs. That, or the twins or maybe even Tsumiki herself have already made themselves apparent, sleeping atop or close to your form beside their father figures. (Megumi admits defeat in these cases and joins the large pile.)

nvy’s aftertalk:

did i scare u when i said sign off? haha, first iPhone came out in 2007 btw

nvy, what’s in the works now that dyf is done?

well ig i’m gg to finish writing the epilogue first, then all the other drafts i have. some are dyf related, some are not. if i take a particular liking to specific aus, they’re turning into my next series haha (dw, most are satosugu focused)

thank you for reading all the way here. i appreciate it. it’s been a long journey for myself and for my writing, and i’m surprised at ppl actually liking my work. thank you, and catch u next time!!

#dyf au #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk x reader #geto x reader x gojo

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