just a reminder! i don’t do taglists, so please dont ask me to tag u
⭐- best works/most notes
my hero academia; 僕のヒーローアカデミア
yagi toshinori; 八木俊典
for better or for worse; where the reader reacts to all might’s fight against all for one
haikyuu!!; ハイキュウー！
ushijima wakatoshi; 牛島 若利
a sudden change; where you come home drunk, explicitly telling ushijima thoughts you’ve kept to yourself
attack on titian; 進撃の巨人
levi ackerman
unexpected secret; where in a fit of petty revenge, petra accidentally reveals a secret to the survey corps
levi and y/n family headcanons
jujutsu kaisen; 呪術廻戦
gojo satoru; 五条悟
⭐never; nobara and itadori asks megumi about the biggest fight y/n and gojo ever had
in the beginning; the beginning of y/n and gojo
⭐would you still love me if i was a worm; gojo is curious if you’d still love him as a worm
pretty little princess; the two times Satoru saw Tsumiki get sick and his never ending worry
⭐jokes on you: your joke backfires as gojo reacts a little differently than expected
three’s a crowd: suguru leaves and massacres his village, leaving you and satoru to pick up the pieces
the prince, the prince [2]: satoru brings home a son that is not yours (under construction! link still works but it’s under heavy editing)
moon knight
steven grant
blind date; person a saves person b from being stood up
the sandman
morpheus/dream of the endless
⭐love game. i, love game. ii; he has never been a good husband, but a century in captivity might change his mind
saving grace: morpheus is captured by roderick burgess, but is swiftly rescued by his wife
house of the dragon
daemon targaryen
dragon blood: daemon doesn’t often love, and when he does he deals with it in the worse ways possible
aemond targaryen
⭐in the beginning, in the beginning 2: in a final attempt to salvage the rift between your families, you suggest a marriage pact between you and and alicent’s second son
her silence: it has been a long time since aemond had let his anger get to him
The twins! There’s nerdjo 🤭and then there’s fratjo too ig, I was really excited when i saw nerdjo trending so I grabbed the opportunity to draw him hehe
a/n: this is my take on how Love from Love Game would react to Dream's intentions to free Nada. Enjoy! check out the a/n at the bottom for more details u may have missed!
wc: 1.7k
You show yourself to him slowly, the click-clack sound of your heeled shoes echoing against the almost bare throne room. You crane your head up to see Morpheus atop his throne, back straight and gaze dark. He was brooding.
The sight of you was enough to make his gaze soften. His eyes follow you until you halt just before the stairs that lead to his elevated throne. "My Love," he murmurs.
"Lucienne and Matthew sent me this way," you began, a small smile tugging on your lips as you loop up to him. "They say you have been on your throne ever since you came back from Destiny's call. Are you brooding again?"
Morpheus's eyes narrow at your accusation. "I do not brood," he insists.
You blink and glance at the window. Raindrops splatter against the window as a raging storm plagues the Dreaming. Not brooding. Right.
Morpheus follows your gaze and sighs. Miraculously, the rain stops. "I was merely thinking."
"Thinking?" You ask, stepping on the stairs, taking your time to climb one step at a time. "Perhaps you simply missed me."
"I do not miss anyone," Morpheus denies. A lie. You both know this. There have been moments where your husband has thrown fits after you needed to leave the Dreaming to fulfill your own duties. "After all, you are right here, before me," he amends.
He extends his hand to you as you approach him, and you take it. He pulls you towards him until you had no choice but to sit on his lap. Your feet dangle atop his throne’s armrest and Morpheus' arms encircle you instinctively, just like how your hands link on his nape, caging him in your arms.
Your eyes search his own and he stares back. You see nothing but darkness and the stars that twinkle in it. "Tell me what's bothering you," you whisper.
“‘Tis nothing of great importance,” he deflects. Morpheus leans in and nudges his sharp nose against yours. You feel his breath as he speaks. “I simply worry about my realm, my duties and quite occasionally, the company of certain goddesses that do nothing but distract me.”
You bite your cheek to keep a grin from forming. “Certain goddesses?” You ask and Morpheus grumbles his teasing reply with ‘mmhm.’ “Two nights ago you called me your lover so reverently.”
“Ah, yes,” he agrees, with mock anger. “Two days ago when you left me for the Waking World-”
“To do my duty!” You explain with a smile.
“You abandoned me nonetheless.” He whispers to you, and you let your head drop to the crook of his neck to stifle your giggle. You feel his hand glide across your back and rest on your nape, holding you close and dear. “I would have liked you there with me when Destiny called,” Morpheus admitted. “I would have wanted you beside me with my siblings when we met.”
You lean back, looking at Morpheus again. “Lucienne is worried about you, my Morpheus. Tell me what is wrong and I will bear it with you.”
Morpheus’ expression softens. “I have my own duties and so have you. And yet, having you by my side already lifts all such burdens.”
You sigh. You try not to show the irritation on your face. Admittedly, Lucienne had hinted at the source of Morpheus’ ire but one could never be too sure. You capture Morpheus’ eyes before you speak her name. “Nada.”
You feel your husband stiffen immediately. A shadow casts over Morpheus’ face and his gaze darkens dangerously. He regards you coldly. “Enough.”
There was a time where this is where you would tuck your tail under your legs and leave your husband be, too terrified at Dream of the Endless to stand your ground. But that was when Dream had never spared you a glance, when he was more content with the silence of his throne room than his own wife’s presence. But those days have ended.
“Your first queen,” you tell him gently, ignoring the flames of jealousy flickering within your chest. Everyone who knows Morpheus well enough knows the unfortunate fate of his first wife– condemned to a lifetime of suffering in Hell all because she rejected his affection.
“Yes,” he hisses at you, with his jaw tightly clenched. Morpheus averts his eyes from your gaze and decides to look at his empty throne room instead. The downpour of harsh rain drums at the outside walls of Morpheus’ castle.
“Are you thinking of freeing her, perhaps?” You ask, your voice small and quiet. You do not want to anger him.
A silence stretches before Morpheus’ head turns to you slowly. His eyes meet yours. “And if I was?”
You avert your eyes from him and decide to stare at your lap instead, finding the fabric of your clothes suddenly so interesting. Suddenly, your position on his lap feels too much. It feels too loving, and vulnerable for this conversation. It feels inappropriate somehow.
On one hand, condemning a lover to Hell is too cruel of a punishment. On the other…what about you? “Why now? What changed?”
“I have recently realized that I may have been too malevolent in my fury against my first wife,” Morpheus admits with a whisper. “And the guilt has been weighing on me heavily. I believe that the time to make things right has come.”
You look at your husband with hesitant eyes, almost not believing what he meant. “You mean to challenge Lucifer Morningstar for her. You mean to subject the Dreaming to war.” You shudder at the thought. “After you embarrassed her in her own realm? After-”
You miss the way Morpheus’s gaze softens at your worried tone, at the way the distress of his intentions consume you. He does not deserve you, he realizes. He reaches out to hold your cheek so gently like he was holding some precious glass. “My Love,” he whispers quietly. “It is a wrong I must correct.”
Morpheus knows that you feel the love he has for you—you are Love, after all. But he is certain that you do not know its depth. You do not know that you consume his every thought since his imprisonment; that despite all your reassurances, the guilt of having neglected you for so long still lingers in his heart; and that he is striving to become a better version of himself—to be the husband he so desperately wants to be for you.
“And if you free her, what then?” You ask him.
He meets your gaze with a confused expression. He blinks slowly. “If I succeed at my quest, then Nada shall be free and I shall rest with peace knowing I did what was right.”
You take a breath. You feel selfish and guilty for thinking of yourself when Nada has suffered a thousand years worth of torment in hell. “What about me?” You ask, your voice small and barely a whisper. “I know you love her still– as I do, with my past paramours,” you add quickly. “But where…where will I go, my lord?”
You feel Morpheus’ hand lift your head by your chin, forcing you to look at your husband’s pained stare. His eyes take in your face, trying to commit it to memory. He tucks a stray hair behind your ear, before resting hands on both sides of your face. He pulls you in before he tilts up to give you a kiss on your forehead.
His thumbs rub the softness of your cheek. “My love,” he whispers, his voice low and adoring. You have forgotten where you stand with him. Morpheus must remind you who you are. “You are the Dreaming’s queen. My fated one, my own dearest Love. You must never doubt your place beside me.”
You revel in his touch before slowly shaking your head. “I do not wish to share you,” you confess.
Your words elicit a small, private smile on your husband’s face. “And you shall never have to, so long as you have me.” He understands your torment, truly, he does, but it baffles him how much Love is sometimes so oblivious to how much her own husband adores her. “I am yours,” he declares, and you feel a ripple of power emit from his words. It echoes throughout the universe, heard by every being. You gasp as he realizes what he is doing– it was a declaration. Morpheus is literally shouting to the entire world that he loves you.
You let out a small huff of laughter, giving in to his bold declaration. “Silver tongue,” you accuse, and Morpheus sneaks a kiss to your cheek. You laugh in delight.
“There is nothing– no one– that would make me part from you,” Morpheus whispers. “I would do anything if it would make you happy.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“And what shall it cost me, Dream Lord? Those in the Waking World warn against making deals with your kind for the price is too costly. Shall you demand lighting caught in a bottle? My true name?”
“None of those. Although, perhaps…” Morpheus pauses in faux contemplation. “A kiss.”
You blink and laugh. “A kiss?”
“I had hoped my wife would come and see me in my throne room to comfort me. I led her to sit on my lap for a more carnal purpose, and yet here you have sat, without even blessing me with a single kiss.” Morpehus tells you with a nod. “And I have already given you two.” He petulantly adds.
You lean towards him, too eager to comply. “My fated one,” you whisper, kissing his forehead. “My lover.” A peck to his check. “My dearest.” A kiss to his other cheek. You lean back ever so slightly, looking at Morpheus’ love struck eyes. “My ever-loving husband,” you whisper, giving him a deep kiss on his lips.
“I love you,” he whispers, his expression adoring and worshipful.
You smile, pressing your hand on his chest. There you feel his love. It senses you, his wife, as you feel through it– chaotic, red, ancient, and deep. It feels like him. It feels like home. “I know.”
Morpheus shakes his head. There is a smile on his face, and the sunshine peeks from the window and shines on their Dream Lord’s face. “No, you don’t.”
my god. you've done it. fine!! FINE! i wrote this because no one seems to be writing for morpheus anymore!!! if you like fics like these, here's my masterlist.
additional notes:
this is fic happens if love n morpheus from love game made up and got their marriage tgt
love never calls dream 'dream' here. it's a title. her husband is morpheus, and that is who she calls
you guys call each other 'fated ones.' that's just my fancy way of saying soulmate lmao. there was a fic somewhere where the author made dream call the reader 'star-mine' since she was a celestial. i loved that. i'd tag the author if i find them
about love and dream still loving their old paramours- i kinda believe that once u love someone that love will never go away. love fades, but never completely. there will always be fondness u feel at the happy memories. that's all i meant.
✢summary: a curse hits megumi and gojo reacts accordingly
✢tags: fushiguro megumi and gojo satoru, nobara pov
✢tw: child abandonment issues?
✢a/n: lets all take a break from whatever the fuck gege akutami has been recently writing. i hope I did dad gojo justice.
Nobara knows she’s fucked as soon as she sees Fushiguro disappear. Her eyes watch in mild horror as her classmate shrinks so quickly until all that is left of him is his uniform.
Itadori was the first to react, shouting a panicked “Fushiguro!” before running towards the pile of clothes.
The door to Shoko-san’s infirmary burst open, revealing an irritated Nobara, followed by Itadori who still had baby Fushiguro in his arms. The child had stopped crying after they passed school gates- maybe he recognized jujutsu tech?- and had settled for wet sniffles instead. Nobara has never seen Fushiguro so pathetic.
Shoko-san was, unsurprisingly, seated behind her desk with papers. She looked at them at the sound of her doors opening, but before she could even talk, Gojo-sensei appeared out of nowhere with his signature annoying grin.
“Yoho~ how did the mission go? I’m sure it went well. I taught you everything you know!”
Nobara could feel her face morphing into an automatic frown. Things were hectic enough as it is, and she didn’t want this moron to ruin baby Fushiguro’s mood any further. They had just endured an hour-and-a-half car ride with a panicked Fushiguro, who insisted on being unconsolable and crying the entire ride back. She just came from a grueling mission. She was sure some of baby Fushiguro’s saliva, and snot landed in her somehow, and if this grandpa-looking sensei of hers made things even worse, she might explode.
“Eh? Megumi?” Gojo sensei asked in confusion after finally noticing the significantly smaller boy. Gojo Satoru’s gaze looks blankly at Itadori’s arms where a smaller Fushiguro is being carried.
As if on cue, Fushiguro breaks out in a full-on wail and cries louder than he ever did in the car.
Nobara already had her trusty hammer in hand, ready to smack the living hell out of her sensei, until she noticed Fushiguro desperately wiggling out of Itadori’s grasp. Both Nobara and Itadori share a confused look before her classmate puts baby Fushiguro down.
As soon as his bare feet touched the cold, sterile floor of the infirmary, Nobara watched in awe as Fushiguro dashed away from them as quickly as he could. It was almost comical how fast he managed to get his tiny feet to run quickly. If this was a cartoon, a cloud of smoke would have been left in his trail.
With his hands out open and eyes wet with a flood of tears, baby Fushiguro rushed to Gojo-sensei, who, to Nobara and Itadori’s surprise, was already squatting down for the boy with arms spread out. Gojo caught Fushiguro easily, one big hand immediately going behind Fushiguro’s head and the other on his back.
“Why did you leave me?” The boy wails, crying on their sensei’s shoulder. “I woke up, and I d-didn’t know where I w-was! You promised never to do that! You promised!”
Fushiguro’s voice cracks at the end of his accusation, and Gojo’s face crumples in a rare show of vulnerability. He shifts, both hands going under Fushiguro’s armpits as Gojo stands. Small, chubby fingers tug his blindfold down, and Gojo-sensei’s blue eyes stare almost lovingly at the crying child with concern. Fushiguro clings to him as if his life depended on it, his tiny fists clenching their sensei’s uniform.
“You’re right, you’re right,” Gojo-sensei coos, swaying slightly from side to side. Gojo makes sure Fushiguro is looking at him before making a show of slapping his hand on his forehead. “Stupid Gojo-san, he forgot his most precious ‘Gumi! What am I going to do?”
Nobara’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Gojo-sensei seemed to have done everything with ease as their baby-fied classmate was now calming down in his arms.
“I’m not precious to you at all, so stop calling me that!” Fushiguro seethes and pulls the angriest scowl he can muster. But then, with another quieter and sadder voice, he reminds Gojo of his previous accusation. “You left.”
“I didn’t leave you,” Gojo corrects him in a softer tone of voice. His hand reaches up to Fushiguro and smoothes out his spiky hair as the child looks at him with slight distrust. The small boy has stopped wailing. Nobara has never seen her sensei so tender. “Haven’t left you ever since I got you.”
Nobara blinks. Since he got- what is going on? She opens her mouth to speak but stops as a quiet voice asks Gojo a question.
“But you will?” Fushiguro asks with his pitch high, threatening another onslaught of tears.
Gojo shakes his head without hesitation. “No,” he insists.
Fushiguro looks at their sensei in distrust, internally debating if he should believe him. His blue eyes shine as he peeks through his lashes to look at Gojo’s unwavering gaze. He asks with a quiet and unsure voice, “Even when I’m bad?”
“Even then,” Gojo answers easily. Fushiguro’s shoulders visibly relax, and he lets himself melt on Gojo’s chest. The older sorcerer puts back a cheery tone as soon as he notices Fushiguro calms down. “Fellow sorcerers brought you back to me, right? And look!” He shifts Megumi towards Shoko-san’s direction. “Aunt Ieiri is here!”
A small smile appears on Shoko-san’s face as baby Fushiguro waves shyly embarrassed that she has seen him throw a tantrum. Nobara thinks it’s her first time seeing her smile. But then Shoko-san glances back at them, and the smile disappears.
Somehow, Nobara feels a little guilty. She knows she probably intruded in a scene meant for Gojo and Fushiguro…whatever they are. But it’s not like she had a choice!
Shoko sighs. “Alright, you two,” she ushers them away with a few flicks of her wrist. “We’ll take it from here.”
Gojo-sensei’s head snaps in their direction, so engrossed with Fushiguro that he almost forgot Nobara and Itadori were still in the room. His blue eyes feel like a spotlight, piercing through them threateningly.
The air feels heavy and almost suffocating, and Nobara feels her shackles rise as her hand twitches for her hammer. It took her a while to realize that the pressure was Gojo-sensei’s cursed energy. Nobara’s instincts whisper at her to run.
Behind her, Itadori reads the situation first and bows in a hurry. He is as likely ready to change out of his snot-filled uniform as she is as eager to escape their deranged sensei. “See you later, Gojo-sensei! Bye-bye Fushiguro!”
Itadori snatches Nobara’s hand just as she finishes her clumsy bow. As she lightly runs to her dorms, the thought of a fresh shower chases away any lingering thoughts of what happened.
-
Gojo feels as though he has traveled back in time. He is frozen in both shock and awe as Megumi, once a tall, lanky, and cranky teenager, has been reduced to a barely four-foot-tall child, his eyes streaming with tears at the sight of him.
As if on instinct, Gojo dropped down to his height- a very helpful tip he read from one of those parenting books he read in a panic after he realized he was the textbook definition of a teen dad- and opened his arms.
He sees Megumi sprint, and Gojo has been in this situation a few times before to know that Megumi was about to launch him a rare hug. Not even a moment later, Megumi was all over him. His hands immediately wrap around the boy.
Gojo knows that he is acting on pure selfishness. He knows something is wrong. For one, Megumi is tiny, and second, his Six Eyes sense a lingering feel of foreign cursed energy. He knows he should be more concerned, checking if his students are alright, but Megumi is sobbing in his arms like he used to a decade ago. In his accumulated knowledge of him, Gojo knows that Megumi is a shy boy, and it takes a lot for him to openly demand his affection and comfort. Gojo is more than happy to deliver.
He caresses Megumi’s hair, and Gojo ignores the way his heart sings. He hasn’t seen this Megumi in a long time, and the boy has long refused his affection.
Before Gojo could ask him what was wrong, Megumi’s watery voice echoes throughout Ieiri’s infirmary. “Why did you leave me?” He cries, “I woke up, and I d-didn’t know where I w-was! You promised never to do that! You promised!”
Ah, Gojo thinks as he feels his heart ache. He knows what this is. Megumi has spent most of his early life witnessing too many people come and leave. If he was correct, which he always ways, Megumi has regressed back in age and memory. Gojo couldn’t help but wonder how he must have felt when he awoke with many unfamiliar people. He knows Megumi assumed he had left him then, just like everyone else.
Gojo lifts Megumi with him as he stands, a hand going under his thighs to support the small boy. Megumi tugs down his blindfold, and Gojo lets him. He does not even realize he’s already swaying Megumi from side to side. His body still remembers how to soothe him.
“You’re right, you’re right,” Gojo says in an admonishing tone before dramatically slapping his forehead. “Stupid Gojo-san, he forgot his most precious ‘Gumi! What am I going to do?”
He does not mind playing the fool for Megumi’s state of mind. When he assumed guardianship over Megumi and his sister, Gojo thought of his role as a simple one. He is their benefactor, one that comes over on a rare weekend to leave money for the Fushiguros to sustain themselves. But one weekend turned into two, and Gojo found himself craving the noise and warmth of the Fushiguro household.
“I’m not precious to you at all, so stop calling me that!”
Oh, how could he even comprehend what he meant to him? Has he forgotten how Gojo learned how to cook to make onigiri-shaped divine dogs for his daily bento? Has he forgotten the movie nights spent on the couch sandwiched between him and Tsumiki? Did he not remember those nights Megumi knocked on his door at night, scared to sleep in his room because his Tsumiki-nee-san was in camp? The animal band-aids? The glow-in-the-dark stickers stuck in his room ceiling?
Gojo watches as Megumi sniffs, eyes darting away from his gaze. His grip on Gojo’s uniform falters. “You left me.”
“I would never leave you,” he says. A memory intrudes his mind with a Megumi similar to this one in front of him. He was angry, his face red with rage, as he hit little fists, landing soft punches on Gojo’s stomach. Gojo didn’t mean to come home late. “Haven’t left you ever since I got you.”
Instead of being relieved, he could have felt Megumi’s heartbreak. He breathes shakily and asks in a tone that tries to conceal his panic and anger- “But you will?”
Gojo shakes his head without hesitation. “No,” he insists.
Fushiguro looks at him in distrust, internally debating whether to believe him. His blue eyes shine as he peeks through his lashes to look at Gojo’s unwavering gaze. He asks with a quiet and unsure voice, “Even when I’m bad?”
Gojo thinks of his almost weekly meetings with Megumi’s high school as he beats other students in a pulp. He thinks of Megumi stretching his arms out, curling his hands to fists, ready to resign himself to a certain death.
“Even then,” he whispers to the boy like it was their little secret. He makes his voice loud and cheery as Gojo exclaims his next words. “Fellow sorcerers brought you back to me, right? And look!” He shifts Megumi towards Shoko-san’s direction. “Aunt Ieiri is here!”
Megumi avoids her gaze and stares at her pristine white coat instead. He offers her a small wave, and Gojo watches as Ieiri gives a him gentle smile.
A wave of appreciation rolls over him as he realizes that Megumi has as many memories of her as he does with him. Gojo feels so stupid when he thinks about the moments when he thought he was lonely. He had two people in this room who loved him as much as he did them. Then, for a brief moment, his brain scolds him for not remembering his precious little girl who loves him infinitely even when asleep. He hopes she’ll wake soon.
“Alright, you two. We’ll take it from here.”
Immediately, Gojo freezes in panic. His instinct sets his Infinity to engulf Megumu and Ieiri. His next thought was- how did they sneak up on me? Gojo panics as he realizes they have seen him cradling Megumi, consoling him with all the gentleness he could muster. They have witnessed his weakness. They have already taken one from him, and Gojo would be damned if anyone takes another child.
His Six Eyes snap at the two intruders, and it takes him—oh, it’s his students. And they are already half-running towards the door.
As soon as the infirmary doors shut to a close, Gojo feels the heated gaze of his friend.
“You didn’t have to scare them like that,” she scolds. “Now they’ll have more questions after Fushiguro’s back to normal.”
Gojo does feel a vague sense of guilt. He didn’t mean to have his students feel threatened by him. He was just caught unaware for the first time in a long time. It didn’t help that Megumi suddenly became smaller and more affectionate, reminding him of precious memories. His brain had thought there was a Fushiguro Toji-level threat like it does every time someone close comes to him without noticing.
“It’ll fade away in a few hours or days, by the way,” Shoko murmurs, her hands going for a cigarette. “He’ll be back to normal in a few. But you already knew that.”
Gojo slaps her hand before she even reaches a cigarette. Shoko takes one look at Megumi and sighs. She takes in the sight before her.
“Feeling sentimental?” She asks.
Gojo hugs Megumi a little tighter. He closes his eyes and lets himself hold the child. Gojo breathes in his scent and relishes the feeling of his child in his arms. He feels Megumi’s spiky hair softly poking his neck, his warmth; he faintly smells Megumi’s childhood shampoo. He feels Megumi squeeze back. “Let me have this.”
Teenage Megumi would never let him hug him with this much vulnerability, which was fine. Gojo loves teenage Megumi as much as he loves this child version of him, but he rarely asks for him anymore. It makes Gojo feel silly to reminisce like he’s past 50 years old when he’s just 27, but in his humble and correct opinion- he was a teenage dad.
“Never do that again,” Megumi scolds him, voice a little muffled. “I’ll hate you if you do. I’ll hate you. I will.” Each word spoken was more determined after the next, bringing another smile to Gojo’s face. They both know Megumi does not mean it. They both know Gojo would never leave him. Not willingly.
lmk what you think! i'd love to hear comments, your thoughts and whatever this fic made you feel. i'd also appreciate constructive criticism <33
Gojo Satoru is positively beaming. He has had a few unforgettable moments in his life; his first day in Jujutsu Tech, his awakening, the first time he got drunk, that one threesome with you and Ge- he’s getting distracted. Point is, this just might take the cake for the most unforgettable.
He had gotten a call from Nanami this morning asking him to meet up. It was already suspicious that he called him, but Satoru was feeling pretty generous. After all, it’s not always that Satoru could get to hear his kouhai ask for a favor.
Now, Satoru is sitting on a chair in a McDonalds beside you, and sitting on the chair in-front of the both of you is a very, very ashamed and embarrassed Nanami Kento. Fuck, Satoru’s smug. His cheeks have hurt from smiling so widely in the past hour and he’s fairly sure that you’re struggling to hide that smirk away from your face.
Amidst the noise of chattering people, a voice stood out from the rest. A small boy with pink hair and chubby cheeks came running towards your table. His yellow sweater and jean shorts were bright and clean, obviously brand new but hastily bought. “Nanamin-!” he cried as he reaches your table. He looks at Nanami with wide eyes. “Aaah.” He opens his mouth expectantly.
Without missing a beat, Satoru’s kouhai immediately scoops up a small serving of his Oreo McFlurry and feeds the boy who smiles in thanks after chewing the ice cream. He does not hesitate to turn and run back to the play place.
Satoru couldn’t help but sigh in defeat. “Oi, Megumi,” he calls to the child who was also at the play place with his sister. “Why couldn’t you be cute like him?” He whines. He doesn’t need to turn his head to know that Megumi heard him, and how he’s glaring at him right now. Call it a father’s instinct. But, speaking of fathers-
You see, Nanami has been in this exact same position three years prior except he was on the other side of the table. When Satoru confessed that he had not-so-accidentally acquired two children with enough emotional baggage for four adult sorcerers, Nanami went berserk. Satoru remembers that scolding, how Nanami called him irresponsible, how you and Satoru weren’t ready for them, how he was in no position to adopt two children despite him having more than enough resources to sustain Megumi and Tsumiki- only to find out Nanami is good little junior who followed his exact footsteps and basically adopted the first orphan he saw. Satoru wonders how many hours it spent before Nanami threw away his pride and asked him for parenting advice. Karma is real!
“So. Itadori Yuuji, huh,” he starts, unable to keep the glee out of his voice. Satoru watches as Nanami hunches his shoulders just a tiny bit in shame, but glares back at him. Nanami opens his mouth to retort, but before his voice came out little Yuuji came running back with his mouth open for another bite of Oreo McFlurry. Nanami delivers his request and Yuuji goes back to his own business.
“He’s clingy,” you observed. That was the fifth time in ten minutes did the pink haired child go back for ice cream. You suspect its not the ice cream itself, but Nanami’s presence. “He must be anxious if he doesn’t see you for too long.”
And who could blame him? Yuuji’s sole caretaker before Nanami was his grandfather, but after he was eaten up by a curse…
“I’m worried about that,” Nanami admits. “He gets upset when I have to leave work. He has to stay home alone and I get off work late…sometimes not at all.”
“Eh,” Satoru waves off his worries with a hand. “It’ll be like that from the start. You just have to assure them that you won’t leave.”
Satoru remembers this. How Tsumiki tries her best to hide her anxiety when he leaves for a work trip and how Megumi lets Satoru hug him briefly when he comes home. Sometimes both children are surprised he comes back at all despite his constant reassurance.
He quickly learns that these children do not trust the words of adults. Words are easily said, promises easily broken.
“Mhmm.” You nod. “We try to always have one of us be present at night. No simultaneous missions for both of us unless necessary.”
Yeesh, Satoru remembers the circumstances that led to that decision. When the both of you were finally able to come home after separate missions on both ends of Japan, Megumi and Tsumiki had thought you had left them.
“Maybe Yuuji can stay with us just until you get back,” you suggest. “If all three of us are gone, I know I can at least trust Tsumiki with him.”
Nanami nods appreciatively. “Thank you, Y/N-san. I know this must be a bother…”
Satoru shakes his head. “Nah. Besides Megumi needs friends his own age.”
He is worried about his little boy. Megumi isn’t exactly the social butterfly like Tsumiki is. Satoru knows that Tsumiki can create an underground cult and rule the school if she really wanted to, but Megumi would rather die than to talk to someone he deems undeserving.
The boy doesn’t even eat with anyone during lunch, or play with anyone during their free time. Megumi would just summon his dogs and let them roam around the school field, and it’s not like anyone would see.
After Megumi explained this to Satoru, he finally understood the multiple concerning calls he got from Megumi’s teachers. They report him petting the air mindlessly like there were invisible dogs, which…there were.
“But what about school?” You ask, prodding the man a bit. He has hardly shared any of his plans.
“There’s a school nearby my apartment. I’ve already enrolled Yuuji there for the next school year.”
Ah, Nanami, Satoru coos in his mind. So meticulous and well-planned!
“He’s ten by now,” you muse, swirling your straw in coke. “Curses and techniques manifest by four. Do you think he sees-?”
“No,” came Nanami’s harsh reply. He says it with such conviction, like he was willing it to be true. It’s the loudest he had been since he asked both of you to meet him at a McDonalds and begged for parenting advice. “He will never be part of that life.”
To others, Nanami must’ve sounded angry. But to you and Satoru, he just sounded protective. Satoru understands. He would give anything to take Megumi out of the sorcery world.
“I’m jealous,” you admit in a whisper. “I’m scared for Megumi and Tsumiki sometimes.”
“Tsumiki is a non sorcerer,” Nanami points out. “She is innocent.”
You sigh. “I gave her some glasses with my cursed energy to see them just in case.”
Satoru remembers this. You both had found Tsumiki beating herself up about how she’s always left behind. She was the only one who couldn't see Megumi’s dogs. The only one who doesn’t understand why you or Satoru would sometimes flick your hand at a random tree. The only one couldn’t see. You relented quickly, giving her twin glasses that match Satoru’s- Like the ones Maki-chan has!- only to be used inside the house.
Using the glasses outside the house is a strict no-no. Satoru didn’t want her seeing the ugly curses that lurk around the streets. Not that she would see them anyway, considering he had exorcised every curse found within a 300 meter radius around the house and their school. But, still, you never know.
Your words bring a deep frown on Nanami’s face, immediately indicating that he did not agree with your actions. You could feel the disappointment radiating off of the man that Satoru wonders if he regrets asking you for advice.
“I still don’t want her to see curses, but I don’t want her to feel left out.” you reason. “That’s just children, Nanami-kun. They make you bend your morals if it's for the sake of them.”
“Mm,” Nanami hums, leaning back on his chair. His gaze turns to the play place and Satoru follows. The children were building towers out of wooden blocks. They had established an effective system; Yuuji hands Megumi the blocks, Tsumiki directs Megumi where to put it, and Megumi obeys.
They look so peaceful. They look like children.
Nanami stares at Yuuji, who immediately notices his gaze. The child perks up as he catches him, before standing up and breaking into a sprint with his arms open.
Nanami catches the child no problem, but the chair squeaks in protest. Satoru watches as Yuuji hugs him the best he could, with Nanami’s huge palm over the back of Yuuji’s head.
“Ah,” the blonde says, his eyes soft and drunk with love. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this one.”
Satoru gazes back to his own children, finishing the tower of blocks everyone has started. Satoru breaks into a genuine smile. Welcome to parenthood, Nanami.
Hello! I wanted to pop in and tell u that I really love ur prince series! I loved ur writing so much that I ended up rereading it like four times in the past three days skksjsjsjj. My favorite part of your writing was how u wrote how misogyny in the jjk verse shaped the reader’s personality! Thank you so much for sharing ur writing with the world and I’m looking forward to seeing what u write next!
i'm so glad you like it! and im so sorry if its on hiatus for months now, i just think that the story can be better paced but i got too impatient and selfishly wrote the scenes i wanted instead of letting the story flow naturally huhu
When Megumi gets injured on a mission, you realize you’re not capable of taking care of a child.
wc — 1.8k
tags — misunderstandings; self doubt; the pitfalls of teenage parenting when you’re all child soldiers; mild angst with a happy ending; happens post sometimes a family is you, teen dad Gojo, and the six year old child he accidentally orphaned, part I of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together.
You shove Megumi into his arms, a bundle of bloody black fabric and dead weight. Gojo doesn’t stumble - he never does - but it’s a close call as he instinctively wraps his arms around whatever you’ve pushed onto him.
“Teleport! Teleport!” You’re so frantic you’re incoherent. It takes a full minute, a minute you don’t have, before you realize that you can’t just say things. Gojo, as invincible as he is, can’t read your mind. You have to explain what’s going on, but how can you focus when Megumi is bleeding out? His little face is growing paler and paler by the second.
His hands are so tiny. Why is that the only thing you can focus on? They’re grasping the front of Gojo’s jacket for dear life as he coughs weakly.
“Teleport him back to HQ! Get Shoko!”
You resist the urge to shake Gojo by his lapels, slap some sense into him. It would only hurt Megumi. Why won’t he move?
✢ summary: just like everyone else, sometimes megumi just wants his mom.
✢ tags: mentions of the death of a pet, implied satoru x reader
✢ a/n: my friend has psychoanalyzed me with a diagnosis of mommy issues and i have always denied them. then i caught myself reflecting on what type of fanfics i write. especially this one.
Ever since Megumi had started school in Tokyo, he was barely home. Of course, he comes home every now and then, and living within the school's dormitories is part of the high school experience- hell, even you stayed in the school when you were a student- but the house is quiet without him, too quiet, which is probably why he does not go home as often as you'd like- that, among other things.
Everyone in your household knew that Tsumiki was what made your house into a home. Your girl always greeted you with a smile and volunteered to make hot meals for the family when you and Satoru didn't feel like cooking. She was warmth, she was energy, she was life. Until she wasn't.
The house became cold without its fire. You couldn't blame Megumi for wanting an escape from the halls that still echo her memory. Which was why you were surprised to see him sitting on the couch with his arms resting on his thighs, hands buried in his face.
"Megumi?" You call. "I didn't hear you come in."
His head lifts up and looks at you. "Liar," he accuses. "You can sense my cursed energy miles away. You knew I was coming home as soon as you felt it ."
His words were harsh but his tone was not off of his usual deadpan manner of speaking. You can't help but smile. He is still the same child who refused to sleep unless he clung to his divine dogs, Tsumiki, you, or Satoru (reluctantly, of course) in some way. He claimed it was for "warmth."
But he knows you as much as you know him. As he made his way to the house, you noticed something- his cursed energy was off. It was more powerful than usual. Of course, it could be a good thing- perhaps he was doing really well in school, but his downcast eyes and even broodier vibe are telling you otherwise. "What's wrong?"
Megumi leans back on the couch, sighs, and contemplates. He stares at your wall that is decorated with framed pictures and pictures you memories from his childhood. You've even framed pictures of his drawings- usually doodles of his shikigami.
He stands abruptly. "Never mind," he dismisses. "I don't wanna- I don't want to talk about it. It's childish and stupid-"
"Stupid enough to make you retreat back home?" You ask. You watch as your question sinks in through Megumi. Slowly, he sits back down. You sit on the other end of the couch.
"What's wrong, 'Gumi?" You ask again. "Tell me." I can fix it. Whatever it is, if I can fix it, I will shouts your inner thoughts.
"I lost one of them," Megumi whispers.
“Oh, Megumi, I-” you say, racking your brain for something to say. Deaths in the jujutsu world is so common that when you’re within the industry for too long you get used to it. “Losing a colleague- this won’t be the first time, baby. Nor will it be the last.”
“No,” Megumi groans out frustrated. There are tears streaming down his cheeks that he angrily wipes away. “My dogs. I lost one. I- Yuki died.”
Your heart breaks at Megumi’s childhood name for his white demon dog. “‘Gumi, I’m so sorry-”
You move to his side of the couch, wide arms open. Megumi falls in, just like he did when he was small. Megumi feels himself melt in your hold, his walls and defenses crumbling away like ash.
Megumi refuses to cry at all times but when you have his arms wrapped around him he finds himself not caring at all. It was like his heart recognized you too.
He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you pretend not to feel his tears.
You hold him until he lets you. Megumi is the one to pull away, and you never do. This boy js fickle with touch, and you always leave the duration of your hugs to his discretion.
You cup his face in your hands, thumbs swiping away the tear tracks. You’ve never seen Megumi this heartbroken before.
“I told him to scout the area and I just left him for a second- and he-” Megumi hiccups. “His head was on the wall. The curse threw his head so hard it made the pavement crack.”
You do not pretend to know his pain for you will never feel it. Megumi’s divine dogs were his first achievement. He smiled the first time he summoned them, even as Satoru threw him in the air in joy. Those dogs would trail after him in the house, obeying his command. You would turn a blind eye to the spare pieces of meat Megumi throws under the table just so they could taste cooked beef.
Megumi would refuse to let them go even when he slept, and was upset that they would disappear when he rested or lowered his guard. As a present, Satoru gifted him customized stuffed animals of the dogs that he never slept without. You were sure he packed those toys with him in the dorm.
When Tsumiki volunteers to run errands, Megumi would summon a dog and follow her. Just in case. They both always came back safe.
“He just did what I commanded, he was good, he was a good boy.” Megumi said, in a quieter voice.
“The best,” you agreed. “But didn’t Yuki merge with the other one? Isn’t that how your technique works when one of them dies?”
“It’s stupid-” A glare from you was all it took. “It’s not the same,” he admits. “I just want my dogs back.”
You give him a sad smile. You pull him close for another hug, and he melts in your arms once again but this time, he does not pull away. You hold him until his tears have dried, until his breaths slowed down, and until his eyes closed for a well deserved rest.
extra note: yuki apparently means snow in japanese. get it? snow=white demon dog (im not creative at all yall)
hi!!! i love your new gojo works!!! i wanted to ask — do all of your gojo pieces take place in the same universe? or is the prince a new universe altogether? i’m trying to mentally piece together the timeline of all the fics
hi!! thank you so much for your kind words 💗💗💗 and to answer ur question, no they don’t :))
I understand why it could be confusing since most of my gojo fics have the same prompt (arranged marriage w/ kids dksjsjsj)
the prince exists within its own thing, but as some of the people have noticed, a hint of hiroki was spotted in Jokes on You!
✢ a/n: here's part 2! i'd like to emphasize that depsite this being a gojo x reader fic, the main realationships i'll be focusing on are y/n and the kids gojo brings home lmao. also im raw dogging the lore as we go so if there are any inconsistencies, please lmk. as always, have fun and lmk what you think!
i don’t do taglists.
part one ✢ masterlist
If it were up to you, you would have shut the gates of the Gojo estate as soon as the child entered the grounds, but your husband had given him the the maids so quickly that you’re sure they have spread the word around already. You could hear the rumors in your head. Gojo Satoru has brought home a child out of wedlock. Gojo Y/N is barren. Gojo Satoru has a mistress.
You expected Gojo to be frantic, stumbling over his words in explanation as to why he has a son- it was his son, there was no doubt about that- reassuring you about his vows remain unbroken, or whatever else but silence. You are silent too as you watch the child get scurried away by the estate staff to scrub the dirt off his face and to get a change of clothes.
Even as he is being escorted away from you, his cursed energy did not fade. You feel it like how everyone feels Gojo’s, but more raw and untamed. Whoever this child is, it is Gojo Satoru reborn again.
Silence. Silence is what took the Gojo estate into a chokehold as the maids finish bathing the child and then put him in a spare bedroom a good distance away from yours. The maids must think you resent him.
Satoru pretends like everything is the same as if the boy had been there since the beginning. During the first night, you watch with a blank face as the cake you've baked for him is eaten by the child. Neither the boy nor Satoru expresses their gratitude towards you. You doubt they even know you baked it.
To his credit, Satoru had treated the child better than you had expected. He is blossoming into fatherhood, you realize and you feel the rage and anger burn in your stomach.
He pats the boy's head and messes his hair, before pointing to his own messy mane exclaiming, "See? We match!"
Satoru had tried to include you in conversations with the boy, even daring to seat him on his right at meals. Satoru would blab after seeing the child gobble mochi. "Mochi is Y/N's favorite too!" He turns to look at you with a bright smile. "Right, Y/N?"
You want to point out that the boy had gobbled everything served to him, but you just give a brief nod.
At night, you sleep like a log- rigid, straight, and quiet. Satoru, on the other hand, remains comfortable, snoozing the day's exhaustion behind him.
Tonight will be the same as it has been for the past few weeks. You stare at yourself in the mirror of your vanity, wondering if your reflection is the perfect example of a foolish woman. How stupid of you to think he was different.
There was nothing but quiet as you prepare yourself to sleep, brushing your hair quietly. You hear the door creak but you do not turn and greet him with a smile like you used to.
“I expected you to be more emotional about this,” came Satoru's words beside you. Me too, you want to reply but held your mouth shut.
You had expected yourself to scream, and let your anger flow through your voice. You wanted to cry until your tears were dry and there wasn't any left. Neither you nor Satoru would be surprised if you use your technique against him in a fit of fury, and if you truly knew your husband, you know he'd take your anger like it was penance. You want to be the fire that burns him badly. But you did none of those.
You are as cold as their blue eyes. You are quiet.
You continue to brush your hair.
"Do you want me to get rid of him?" offers Satoru. "Just say the word, and I will."
You blink in surprise. You meet his eyes in the mirror. Satoru looks nonchalant in his posture with his hands in his pockets. But the fact that his glasses were nowhere to be seen tells you he is not joking.
Your ears recall the promise he made months ago. My wife, my equal. A promise to try, to try to be happy to spite everyone who was determined to make your lives miserable.
The sudden exhaustion hit you, your shoulders slumping from your previous postures. You lean back, letting your nape rest on the back of the chair. You stare at the ceiling, your head forbidding you to forget how the child looked like. White hair. Blue eyes. You hear Satoru sigh somewhere near you. You hear his footsteps come. From your peripheral, you see his figure beside you. A feather-like hesitant hand touches your shoulder. “I was not unfaithful to you.”
Satoru moves to kneel in front of your sitting figure. He reaches out to your head, and touches his forehead against yours. You find yourself looking up at his eyes, the same shade of eyes that he shares with the child. His hands cradle your face, desperate for you to believe him. “Please. Please, Y/N.”
You remain silent.
“You’re the only one I have left, Y/N, please.” He begs. There are tears threatening to spill down to his pretty face, and you find some sick satisfaction in them.
That is not true. Your husband has his clan, his estate servants, his high school friends, and his teachers. It is you that has no one but him. By your culture’s traditions, you do not belong to your clan anymore. You know that some elders have begun to doubt their choice in choosing you as the wife of Gojo Satoru with the obvious lack of children, but with the sudden appearance of Gojo-sama’s bastard child, they might annul your marriage by force- or, god forbid, cast you aside for another, more fertile woman.
You do not wish to share your thoughts, but your husband grips your head so desperately. You have made a god beg.
“I know.” You say. The child may be young, but he was old enough to walk and talk small phrases on his own. He must be at least two years old. The child is older than your marriage.
His shoulders immediately drop in relief before quickly detangling himself from you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He slides his head to hide in your neck and like instinct, you welcome him wrapping your hands around his waist.
"Where would you leave him?" You manage to ask, still not believing his offer.
"The cabin," he says. You can see the cracks on your husband now. You spot his hand making a fist inside his pockets, like it pains him to speak. “The one by Nagasaki, remember? I’ll send a maid and give him money every month. We can send him right now. The maids will not say anything outside the estate, not if I threaten to chop their tongues off. We can send him off with a caretaker to a cabin somewhere and leave him there. I- I can visit him a few times a year- just to make sure he’s fine.”
You blink. You did not expect Satoru to offer that. You let the fantasy linger in your head. You imagine the boy’s life so far- abandoned by his mother and unknown by his father. Children do not understand things the way older people do, so it is up to the adults to help and explain certain things. But he has not had an adult in his life before. Would you be happy if you were left alone in the cabin in the middle of the woods with no one but a caretaker for company? Better yet- will the caretaker even stay to care for him without anyone around?
That sounds incredibly lonely, you realize. The premise sounds all too familiar to you- an empty house with no one but servants. But this boy will only get one.
He needs people to protect him, but you are unsure if you’d like to. Your instincts tell you to agree, get rid of the boy before he becomes more of a threat.
“Satoru,” you say slowly, thinking of your next words carefully. “He is just child. He is no danger to me.”
You hold your breath, suprised to hear the words out of your mouth. From your lap, Satoru holds your gaze- piercing eyes trying to read your mind. If he caught your lie he does not show it.
"Are you sure?"
No. "Yes."
-
Hiroki. Satoru had names him Gojo Hiroki.
He spends most of his days inside the estate surrounded by maids or inside his room playing with the toys you off-handedly ordered the day after he arrived. The maids gush about him already, the older ones excitedly murmuring how the little lord acts so much like your husband as a child. You would be a fool not to agree.
Hiroki runs barefoot through the estate, tracking mud on precious tatami floors before a servant finally catches him. He likes people, likes the maids and the servants, and thus has migrated to the kitchen a few weeks after his arrival like he was addicted to places were people are the most. He draws. He draws so much it’s almost ridiculous. You could have a library full of childish scribbles.
Like your husband, he devours his dessert the best before any dish. He eats mochi, ice cream, cookies and whatever sweets there are on the table like it was his last meal. You recall one of the maids gasp as a drop of cream lands on your cheek when he slammed his fork in his cake.
Satoru is free in his affection for the boy, unexpectedly flourishing in fatherhood. He remains firm in his belief that children should be children and makes an effort to see Hiroki out. Satoru becomes known to sneak the child away from the estate to parks, to mini-vacations you begrudgingly join after Satoru’s incessant pestering. And of course- school. Hiroki made history once again when Satoru announced his decision to enroll Hiroki in a totally normal, public Japanese preschool.
You realize that Satoru was meant to be a father. And one good one at that. It brings you comfort that any children that he is at least good to his son after he confessed his plan to be a teacher after graduation.
Tokyo’s jujutsu highschool would be blessed with his presence, thought one of Satoru’s female seniors would disagree.
“Yo, Y/N-chan,” came a voice.
You twist your body over to the source of the voice, and your face lights up at the sight of a familiar face. “Getou-san!”
If Satoru's presence is an overwhelming force, making everyone and everything bow to him as if he is god, Getou is a dark, uneasy, slinking feeling. His cat-like features morph into a happy expression with a polite smile on his lips.
“Is there a mission today?” You ask as Getou comes nearer. Satoru would try his best to keep any of his classmates away from his estate, but there is nothing he can hide from Getou and Shoko. "Can I come?"
After you had let slip that you wanted to become a licensed sorcerer, Satoru had made it a habit to sneak you into some missions with Getou. You had fretted about the technical legalities and questioned the safety of the public when an inexperienced sorcerer like you enter the battlefield but Satoru merely shrugged and simply gestured to his best friend. We're the strongest!
Getou leans his shoulder on the wall. "Nope, not this one Y/N."
“I see,” you say, failing to hide your disappointment. Sometimes you wonder why you enjoy the missions so much. Was it the thrill of doing something you never would? Perhaps it was the freedom of it all, unleashing your power to poor curses who quiver beneath your feet?
Your ears perked at a familiar high pitched laugh, and your eyes immediately lock to the window where Hiroki soon runs across. He has dried soil on his feet. His pale hair is slicked back with sweat and it glistens against the sun like snow.
A maid forces a laugh in panic as she tries to catch him with his shoes on one hand.
Away from him. That’s why you enjoy it.
Getou follows your line of sight. “How is he?”
You glare at him. “How would I know?”
Everyone knows that Hiroki is a taboo topic if it’s within your earshot, lest they want the you in a foul mood. But Getou does not shy away from his question and only raises an eyebrow, calling your bluff.
“You’re telling me you do not know your own household?”
“The garden is his place,” you sigh., and admitting it felt like defeat. “He likes the grass on his feet and likes big spaces. He gets angsty when a room is too small.”
“Mmhm,” Getou agrees. “Did you know Satoru plans to enroll him in a daycare?”
Your eyes widen in horror. “In a- what?” You shriek. “He has a dozen of servants here willing to serve him-! Does he even realize the risk he’s putting the boy in? Assassins, curses, cursed users…” you trail off, remembering your own childhood. It was strange to be surrounded by servants but feeling so alone at the same time. “I see.” A daycare meant potential friends, friends that you never got to have. “Does…does the boy like it at least?”
“Me?” Getou barks out a surprised laugh. “Shouldn’t you know that?”
You glare at him. Getou meets your gaze unapologetically, almost as if he was challenging you. Finally, he sighs. “Have you ever talked to him at least?”
You roll your eyes. Your sharp tone echoes around the room. “And why would I do that? He is no concern to me.”
"He needs you."
"He does not need me," you snap, suddenly impatient for Satoru to come out of wherever he’s hiding so Getou and him can go. “He will resent me when he’s older, I know it.”
You have seen this same scene over and over again. Children and the wife of the husband do not get along. Both suffer at the existence of the other. This is the fate that Satoru had subjected you to. This is the fate you have set upon yourself when you refused to send him away. You wonder if your kindness will cost you one day.
“Well,” Getou shrugged nonchalantly. “You haven’t given him any reason to like you either.”
You opened your mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by Satoru.
“Getouu,” he whined, comically trudging towards his best friend with a hunched back. “Why are you so early?”
You see Getou open his mouth to reply, but you are lost in your head. You watch Getou ignore Satoru’s childish gimmicks, already dragging him out of the room and towards the door. You feel Satoru kiss your cheek before waving goodbye, but your head was in a daze mindlessly repeating Getou’s words. You feel shiver creep down your spine before shifting your gaze towards the garden where Hiroki’s presence was last.
-
thank you so much for reading guys! i’d love to hear all criticisms and suggestions for this universe <33 please lmk through comments :>
😭😭😭😭😭 I am a slut for gradual parenthood. I hope she becomes a mother for the child. This is so good. This hits the spot. How dare you open my brain and write what I didn’t know I wanted to read (Please don’t stop)
