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javarium · 5 months

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under the clouds, in my heart | g. satoru

it’s these kinds of days that make Satoru the happiest — that remind him of the wonderful things he has in his life now; thunderstorms where his wife and children are safe and protected inside of his home are all he could ask for

w — post canon! gojo, canon-divergence, pregnant! reader, former first-year student! reader, mentions of underage relationship, mentions of being in a former! student-teacher relationship, Papa Satoru & Mama Reader, Satoru and Reader have a (growing) big family, this ended up shorter than I anticipated

a/n: another fix it fic you guys 🤧 this one has been in my drafts longer than 236

[ apart of the TFFTS universe! ]

He loves seeing you cozied up in his sweaters, no matter the time of year (he secretly keeps it colder than normal in the summertime so you’ll put them on, but he’ll never tell you that). He loves how the hemline rests at your knees, a testament to the cute height difference between the two of you.

With your pregnancy belly, like now, sweaters only seem reach mid-thigh.

Ah, he’s not complaining.

He’s back from a mission overseas a day early, one he committed to speed-running like a demon so he could get back to his growing family. It wasn’t too necessary, considering he doesn’t have to do many more missions nowadays. The only reason he was summoned was because of his long, long influence, to which he most definitely used to get back faster.

But the universe hits his Pause button the second he warps back into his lovely home. For good reason. His heavenly blue eyes take in the scene in front of him, soul imprinting this memory into itself for eternity.

Seiji, his five-nearly-six year-old firstborn, was curled up on your lap, head using your thighs as a makeshift pillow. Traitor. Satoru can hear little snores escaping his lips at the awkward position his head is in. But if Satoru tilts his head, he can see his son’s protective decision from where his head and body lay.

Sanari, his sweet daughter, is curled up by your left arm. Her white curls of hair are splayed out on the pillow behind her as her head rests on your shoulders. Satoru chuckles. He can clearly see drool at the corner of her mouth pooling onto the sweater of his you’re wearing.

Lightning lights up the sky outside. And suddenly, the gushing sound of rain is all Satoru can hear — a downpour. Huh, the clouds had been just as white as his hair earlier. He supposes anything can happen though.

He can’t even see outside anymore now. The greenery has been completely overtaken by the opaque gray of the intense rain and thunderstorm.

Satoru’s head snaps back to you and his sleeping offspring. As much as he wants to join, he can’t bring himself to. He wants to do anything besides ruin the picturesque moment in time before him.

Just look at the family he’s made for himself.

Ah, but the squirming toddler in your arms may do just that anyway. So he doesn’t debate taking Junpei from your arms as he begins to scrunch up his adorable little nose.

Besides, Satoru’s sure you’re bound to wake up soon. His Six Eyes tells him that because the cursed energy from within your tummy is starting to become restless, the twins are finally waking up.

A big family hadn’t been on his mind. You both agreed on leaving your family with Junpei as your youngest. Especially with you falling pregnant so soon with him after having trouble with Sanari’s pregnancy and birth.

But things don’t always go to plan, do they? Satoru muses.

Taking the littlest that'll soon be a big brother wakes you from your nap. You inhale and exhale deeply as your eyes flutter open, blinking quite a few times before your vision clears.

“….’toru~” Your sleepy inhale sounds like a cute sniffle; he can’t help but grin. “You’re home?”

“Surprise, baby,” Satoru mumbles as he sits down and leans over the couch and over your pregnant belly to sweetly kiss your lips. “I’ll be home for awhile this time,” he adds softly. One arm holds his son, the other wraps around the back of your shoulders, hand resting on your upper arm to gently pull your body into him to deepen the kiss. You can’t help but giggle against his lips, and he smiles and giggles into it in return.

Lightning brightens the sky, this time for the longest you’ve ever seen. And following it, is the mightiest thunderclap you’ve ever heard. It makes even your husband jump, surprised by the deafening boom. Your lips separate from Satoru’s, who’s looking out the window with you, impressed by the power of Mother Nature.

It wakes Seiji and Sanari, who despite their maturity for their age, show their age by the fat tears pooling at their eyelids. Junpei, fully awake, begins to cry too, slightly louder than his older siblings. The toddler buries himself into his daddy’s shoulder for comfort and protection. And when the other two see their dad, who’s back home early, they jump to him and do the exact same, hugging him and burrowing into his chest and neck.

You’d take a picture had your babies not been so scared.

When your hand rubs Seiji’s back, the little boy turns to you, eyes watery with fear. He takes two little steps on the couch and softly stumbles into your outstretched arms. He rests his bottom on your thigh, head burrowed into the crook of your neck, little hands balled up into fists with the sweater you were wearing between his itty bitty fingers.

“Come on, Seiji. Off Mama’s belly,” Satoru says, a slight tinge of worry to his voice as he sees him lay a little too heavily on your rounded middle.

The little boy gasps lightly and moves. “Sorry, Mama. Sorry babies.”

You chuckle and kiss his tiny forehead. Satoru presses his lips to the side of his son’s temple, his free hand reaching for his sides to tickle him, saying things about how cute he was.

Sanari takes the moment to detach from her daddy’s side and dives back into your ribs, albeit much more carefully than her older brother. She sniffles, still scared from the clash of thunder, but much calmer now that both her parents were home and awake. She burrows her head under your arm, almost behind your back, leaving her nose room to breathe in the cool air and the sweater that smells like both you and her papa.

It’s so cute, Satoru thinks. She’s the complete opposite of him. She’s the more quiet and reserved one of her siblings. And he still suspects that she still will after her younger twin siblings will be born. Satoru has a feeling, knows in his gut that they’ll be the most extroverted of his children, bouncing off the walls just like he does every day.

Though not so much anymore, heh. He’s still a childish person at heart, but his age is slowly getting to him, slowly beginning to chip away at his ability to be the flamboyant jujutsu sorcerer he used to be. He can feel the ache of time and age begin to take root in the bones of his body that had been so tempered.

In its place, however, took fatherhood, took a new and different kind of responsibility that he was more than excited for — days filled with new challenges, watching his kids grow as he smothers them with love.

His former students were more than capable of handling the load he used to. There’s plenty more of them nowadays than there is of him. With most of them all Special Grade sorcerers, too, he muses. Including you. But you don’t partake in missions like that, mostly being in the reserves of jujutsu society and using your reverse cursed energy like Shoko has.

Especially since becoming a mom.

Satoru sees the rainy day lulling you back to sleep. Being five-and-a-half months pregnant with twins, while also caring for three more while her husband was away would make any woman tired.

His offspring, however, were wide awake.

“Go upstairs and go to sleep,” Satoru says quietly. He sees the waves of fatigue hit every time you blink several times in one go. Your happy expression is getting harder to hold as you grow tired all over again, and Satoru thinks he’s going to have to carry you upstairs, fearing you falling.

But you, ever-stubborn, refuse. “I’m okaaay,” you reply, yawning into the words.

The white-haired man chuckles and shakes his head. “Go to bed,” he says, this time in a more commanding tone. “I’ll wake you up in a couple hours with food ready.”

And when he makes that face, the cutesy one that also means he’s more than happy to carry you to bed, you don’t argue. He does, however, help you up off the couch and watches from the bottom of the stairs to make sure you lose balance and tip backwards. Satoru blows you a kiss, to which you chomp down at, mock-devouring his kisses. He gasps, fake offended, and it gets the giggle out of you he’s hoping for before you go into the bedroom.

Satoru’s heart swells with adoration and love. It overflows even more as he turns back to his two sons and his daughter. God, he almost wants to cry. What did he do to deserve such happiness in his life? After everything he’s done, that’s happened to him, when did the universe decide a beautiful wife and sweet, adorable children were in the cards for him?

He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s going to hold his family close to his heart and protect them until his last breath.

a/n: this got published at a completely random time lmao, where did this even come from? this’ll flop for sure but everyone who reads pls enjoy anyway

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vivendraws · 4 months

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drunken stupor. (lucifer morningstar x named!reader)

in which the lightbringer and a very inebriated jophiel converse solemnly about their melancholic tumbles from grace.

content and warnings: excessive alcohol consumption, swearing, angst of course. the reader in this is named jophiel and lucifer’s fall is not lore accurate because i wanted them to be able to empathize with the reader at least a bit. just sad lesbians being sad lesbians guys !❤️❤️

word count: about 2,963 give or take.

✨special thanks to @agathaandgwenslesbian , my biggest inspiration.

— “ walk with me, little lamb…

𖤐

your fall from grace was less than justified.

scrubbing the Morning Star’s quartz floors with fury, you reminisced about your time in heaven, your once beautiful wings, plumed and well groomed with beautiful white feathers and a holy glow that you wore so, so well. now you had no wings, just stubs that once were soft appendages that signified your sacred position in the gates of heaven. how you missed the bright light of the heavens, the smell of chrysanthemums and what you could only describe as purity that filled your senses. the heavenly experience was truly something you longed for again.

but you were being punished. you were being punished because you had feelings, feelings for a mortal and you acted upon them with great sin. you felt stupid. you cursed yourself. stupid, stupid, stupid. every day you spent in Lucifer’s kingdom you dreaded, and the longer you were there the more you longed for your mortal companion whom you assumed had moved on by now as all mortals do. that thought pained you.

and that Morning Star, the Lord of Lies, the Lightbringer - to you, the light-take-away-er. if the scent of sulfur and rotting wood and burning flesh in the air wasn’t enough, you had Lucifer over your shoulder almost constantly, their piercing blue eyes observing, watching, all-seeing and all-knowing of every thought you had about the place. and they absolutely relished in your suffering, which made you all the more infuriated.

what seemed to make you the angriest though was why Lucifer bothered to pester you about how you fell. after all, they didn’t give two fucks about you, your position, your job, how you felt. you constantly refused to tell them, which made them ask more, and more, and more, and more, until they made you snap like a weak tether. until you would scream at them to stop asking, beg them to stop being so fucking nosy so you could wallow in self pity without being mocked and bothered by your fall. and yet they did not care, and carried on anyways.

today was different. you finished your duties, setting the scrub brush back into your bucket and dusting off your white robe that the lightbringer picked for you - and specifically for you, you noticed, because everyone else dressed in a darker solid color. you sighed and lifted the heavy bucket of suds, straining your arms to some extent before a gentle hand laid itself on your shoulder. well, speak of the devil.

“wonderful to see you working so hard, sweetling. i take it you’ve finished your chores, hm?” their voice rang like a gong against your eardrums. you grumbled, turning slowly on your heels to face them.

“yes, my lord.” you answered plainly, gazing down at the dirty soapy liquid in your bucket.

“well… you know, Jophiel, i never thought i would find myself commending you for your hard work, but you’ve polished my floors wonderfully. they’re so pretty, aren’t they? pure quartz tiles. white and angelic.” they wore a small grin, eyes examining you and your figure. that comment seemed to have struck a nerve with you as your brows furrowed, which only made them chuckle in response.

“is there anything else you plan to assign to me, my lord…” you asked with a clenched jaw, feeling like you would’ve blown a gasket then and there.

“why, yes, there is. walk with me, little lamb.” Lucifer held out their hand for you to take, which you did not. their smile faded as they lowered their hand. you set the bucket down, staying close to them, refusing to look at them.

you and Lucifer walked in silence, treading to their chambers. they did not typically allow servants such as yourself in their space, as they seemed to be extremely anxious about it being kept private, but seeing as how they only took interest in you, you knew you were an exception to their peculiar rule of ‘my eyes only’. entering the room bombarded you with… pleasantry, which surprised you, and you gave lucifer a short glance, perking a brow as you looked around and took in the scenery and new scent.

for the first time since you fell you smelled something sweeter than sulfur, something less putrid than rot and death. this was comforting, a sultry vanilla and spice. of course you had never been in here before, why would you be? the newness of it all was almost overwhelming. lucifer took a seat in the sofa nearest the fireplace, leaning forward to pat the chair across from them in which you assumed you were supposed to sit in. as you plopped down into the seat you felt nearly swallowed by the comfortable cushion of the chair, the soft texture of the arms. you gazed around the room again, admiring the carved marble of their fireplace, and their neatly made bed, which they probably made themselves. you didn’t blame them for that.

as much as you hate to admit it, they had quite the sense of decoration and knew what sort of furniture belonged where. it reminded you of your mortal companion’s home… how you missed her.

“my lord,” you cleared your throat, but you dared not make eye contact with them, knowing your place after it was beaten into you by Mazikeen, “why have you called me here… are you going to make a fool of me again? ask me about how i fell?”

the Lightbringer chuckled, reaching for the bottle of wine and two conveniently placed glasses from the small side table next to them, pouring you a glass and one for themself. “no, sweet Jophiel. i think i’ve been going about it all wrong, we are strangers after all, hm? tell me about yourself.”

no. you weren’t strangers. you knew who they were and they knew well who you were by now. you just… did not know enough about them, and they didn’t know much about you besides what they could force out of you.

“i was heaven’s messenger.” you muttered, cautiously taking the glass of crimson liquid they handed to you. “i was one of the elite, the favored, the most beautiful divine.”

“tell me something i haven’t already heard.” they took a small sip from their own glass, side eyeing the fireplace for a moment. “i hear that all the time, what makes you special?”

you were at a loss of words, truly, nearly angered again as they uttered that sentence. you would dare call them blasphemous, but not to their face, or to anyone else. you grumbled as you chose your next words carefully. “i’m special because i nearly had a chance to return.”

Lucifer’s color drained from their face, as if their porcelain skin could get any lighter. for a moment they glared at you with a fire that burned like a thousand furious suns. that was their dream. that’s what they’ve been longing for this whole time and their fucking servant gets the chance? “and, how did you manage to accomplish that feat?”

“i was simply close with the messenger angels. we were all tight knit and spent most of our time together.” you shrugged, finishing off your glass of wine as your eyes slowly met Lucifer’s exasperated gaze.

their look suddenly softened, and a gentle smile pursed their lips. “i’m happy you received that chance. i’m sure you were beyond disappointed with the idea that you were ineligible in the end?”

“i was.” you nodded slowly, watching curiously as Lucifer leaned forward to fill your glass again. this time there was more, as they seemed to no longer care how much you consumed, their sudden pang of hatred towards you creating thick tension.

“what a shame.” they handed you the bottle, not feeling up to another glass as they set theirs to the side. you watched them tap two long fingers against their knee, thinking carefully about their next words. what would they say to you? their eyes occasionally flicked to the bottle of wine in your hands as you poured glass after glass in awkward silence, the silence slowly becoming comfortable silence as you felt warmth rise in your chest, your cheeks flushing, the world around you appearing as though you had astigmatism.

finally breaking the silence you spoke up, drunken thoughts becoming drunken confessions as your soft sigh caught the Lightbringer’s attention. “i miss her.”

“miss whom?” Lucifer asked, perplexed by the randomness of that statement, leaning back against the sofa cushions.

“my mortal…” your speech didn’t slur yet. your mortal? Lucifer was interested now, their attention focused on nothing but you.

“you… loved a mortal?” they blinked, crossing one leg over the other, piecing two and two together.

“yes, loved her so deep, so pure, s’one of the purest mortals…” you looked into the bottom of the bottle, hoping to drown your confessions with more of the red liquor, but the bottle was empty.

“what was her name?” Lucifer asked quietly, hoping they hadn’t overstepped.

“s’was uh…mmm. Destiny.” her name rolled off your tongue like you had spat up the acid from your stomach - with how drunk you were, you probably had by accident. who knew angels were light drinkers. the author certainly knew.

“Destiny…” the name echoed from the Lightbringer’s lips, the way they spoke her name with respect, and not ridicule, as the other angels had done, was relieving. “you fell because you felt for Destiny, little lamb?”

“yes, n’she’s probably looooong gone by now. she was so… she was so beautiful…” you whined. “she had pretty green eyes that brought stained glass to sh-shame, and her sk-kin was beautiful too, was dark n’speckled with porcelain patches…”

— standing before your maker, you could not pray yourself out of this situation. you were guilty and caught red handed before the angelic court, not even necessary to stand trial for your sin. all of your memories played back in your mind like a cassette tape…

…the first time you saw her you were scouting souls, routine work for you, reporting back how many were to come in and how many were to go out. you decided one day to take a break - after all you chose to use a human form, to get closer to the mortals, and you could always return to your work, since you worked at a calm pace. you were fascinated by them, so you decided to be them temporarily whenever you had the chance - and you chose a library to enjoy mortal splendor, in other words, books. the librarian was her, your sweet destiny, helping you choose books, helping you read, helping you, only you in that moment…

…the last moments you spent together, you knew you had to return to heaven. she already knew your secret, already knew what you were and why you were here, and accepted it. parting ways was never easy even if you were doing simple things for her like market runs or even helping with her chores. this was no different, your last hug spent shortly, much to your dismay. you kissed her tenderly and promised her that you would return. you promised her you would come back for her. you promised you would make all of this up to her the next opportunity you got.

but that opportunity never came to you.

now as you uttered no words for your case, your fate set in stone, you gazed into the eyes of your father, who else but God to make this sort of decision, who else but he who judges the harshest in the grand scheme of all things. your eyes flicked back to your fellow angels, their eyes averted from yours, disappointment heavy in their hearts.

you closed your eyes and braced yourself for whatever punishment you were to receive, unexpected that it was to be sent to hell, banished from the heavens. you dropped to your knees and begged for forgiveness and mercy, but you were denied despite your higher status amongst the ranks. a harsh breeze enveloped you, and before you knew it you had tumbled into the gates of hell, your wings burning, nostrils on fire from the scents that filled the air and the smoke that polluted your lungs. —

Lucifer nodded as you explained, listening, as if they were a therapist holding a notepad. “im sorry, Jophiel. truly. i can’t imagine how it feels to fall from the heavens because of your adoration for a mortal with an expiration date… i only know what it’s like to fall and fall from love.”

before you drunkenly scolded them for that comment on the living, you were intrigued by that last bit. you knew Lucifer had fallen, and now that you finally gave in and told Lucifer about yours, it was only fair lucifer told you about their own, every last goddamn detail to make up for their pestering.

“tell me about your fall. i want to know. i want to know everything about it.” you narrowed your eyes on them, watching them think of something to say, before their expression softened and their smile faded.

“i don’t know if that’s wise of me to talk about little lamb.” they focused their gaze on something that wasn’t you. this made you upset.

“you don’t get ta do that to me, Lucifer Morningstar. you done nothing but pester me about how i tumbled down here, jus’ for you to not tell me what happened to you too? boooooooo.” you taunted them, but silenced yourself as they raised their hand to quiet you down.

“fine. i will tell you how the great samael fell.” they sighed and grumbled, looking pained. their fall was a heavy subject, something they had not spoken about in eons, something that they preferred not to speak about. but they supposed it was only fair.

— rebellion.

rebellion and war and love and sin, truly a long, painful battle for the Morning Star, their love for another angel, their pride and their desire for self rule. they did not like being told what to do nor when to do it, especially by God, who made them the angriest. they were the most powerful, bested only by God himself, their abilities unmatched by other angels.

this did not stray them from their love for another angel, Nephele, a soft and kind and tender soul, the only being strong enough to ground and calm the lightbringer when they began their prideful quips and spats with God, or when their tantrums grew worse because of the severity of their punishments.

their last straw came about after having been caught with nephele, tossing peony petals into the fountains and holding hands and quietly admitting their scandalous affections. they had plans to run, to escape, cast themselves out of heaven and make peace with each other’s presence for eternity, how lucifer longed deeply for such, but it never came to fruition.

pleading for forgiveness, Nephele received mercy; Lucifer would not lower themself to that degree, they chose instead to rebel and conquer and destroy. wars were fought, battles were consequential and the consequences in question were severe. heaven became a battlefield and Lucifer was at the forefront before archangel Michael struck them down with force and fear.

Lucifer feared nothing.

but on that day they feared for the life of Nephele.

worried that she would suffer more, Lucifer surrendered. archangel Michael claimed his victory and moved forward on their decision to cast Lucifer out of heaven, banishing them to a hellscape of their own fate, a product of their immense power and strength that kept them locked in for eternity.

and so, the Lord of Lies lost their spirit and their love, their new role to punish and destroy and contain their power to the best of their ability. they have never been happy since losing their faith in the divine. —

you blinked, taking in the story as best you could while being past the point of inebriation. “wow.”

“we are not all that different, you and i.” Lucifer spoke softly, easing the tension between the two of you and earning a giggle from you.

“i s’pose we aren’t, Lucifer.” you raised an empty glass as if you were toasting to that statement, leaning back into the cushions of your seat.

“thank you for telling me your story, Jophiel.” they gave a subtle nod, rising to their feet and gazing down shortly at you.

you met their eyes on you, confused, dazed, seeing two of them, your eyes darting back and forth between the two figures. the Lightbringer’s hands reached for you, their grip gentle as they lifted you under your arms and allowed you to relax in their hold as they carried you to your chambers.

“why are you bein’nice to me?” your speech slurred, and you felt like you were flying, despite Lucifer not moving fast enough to make even sober you feel such a way.

“it would be cruel of me to be unkind to you in this state.”

“but you’re the- the bloody devil, aren’t you s’posed to be evil?” you hiccuped.

“not to drunken fools.” they sighed.

“ohh.”

“mhm.”

Lucifer carefully opened the door to your room, that you had decorated to your liking, which they admired. they set you down against your mattress, watching as your eyes fluttered open and shut and open again, your brain indecisive on whether or not you were to fall asleep.

“rest your head, little lamb. you’ll forget all about this at dawn, i'm sure.” Lucifer’s voice was tempting. your eyes finally settled shut, and you succumbed to your drunken stupor, having drank yourself into unconsciousness.

they watched you fall asleep slowly, staying for some time to ensure you were okay before they let you sleep and rest off the drunken buzz.

perhaps the devil did care after all.

— 🦇🩸