“I Will Surround You With A Love Too Deep For Words.”

ding!

. . . fushiguro megumi. sinking into an abyss of despair, time and fate sure are cruel.

note. spoilers ahead.

megumi understands that he, himself, is human as well. and just like any other human being that roamed the earth, he is one to make mistakes; mistakes that would then teach him a lesson he'd either utilize to make up for his shortcomings or disregard the moral lesson he’s supposed to take and continue on with his life.

he knows, megumi knows, that he’s made so many mistakes in his lifetime, but he’s always had the right people to look after him.

satoru was there, and as much as megumi wouldn’t want to admit it, his teacher was a pretty good figure that helped shape the young jujutsu sorcerer into who he is today. though he may be a bit childish, he was a good man through and through; both a mentor and a sort of paternal figure in megumi’s life.

you were there too. a true parental figure to megumi in tandem with satoru. he often thought about how you’re constantly doting on him, treating him as though he were a little toddler who could barely stand on his own two feet, and how you coddled him most of the time—reminding him of how reckless he could sometimes be when it came to his assignments.

he acted a little annoyed when you did this, but looking back at it now, he begs the gods out there to hear his pleas—to bring back time or to even change the fate set upon him.

he loathed this with every fiber of his soul.

being a mere vessel for the king of curses made him shiver and almost want to lose what was left of his reasonable wit.

he loathed how he couldn’t do anything as sukuna held you by your throat, his grip on you so tight that your body went limp against his hand.

“f– fuckin’ hell,” you wheeze with a chuckle.

the curse coos at this; he’s enjoying this. enjoying how you’re physically being tormented by him, all while megumi’s consciousness is being tormented emotionally.

it’s like killing two birds with one stone, and he finds absolute delight in what he’s doing.

megumi’s breath is caught in his throat the moment he sees your battered body get launched into the air, then get pummeled down to the pavement with great strength.

the absolute agony in your cry shatters his heart into a million pieces. in the consciousness in which he’s trapped, megumi could only watch in horror as your life flashed before his eyes.

he remembers the times you always checked up on him, taught him how to improve his cursed technique, and even taught him how to ride a bike when he was still little.

it hurts to even remember them now when he didn’t pay much attention to them before.

you lay there, unmoving, your eyes half-lidded and dull. you’re gone. and he couldn’t do anything but watch as your life cuts off within a quarter of a second.

sinking into an abyss of despair, what’s left of megumi’s soul fades into a hollow void of space. time and fate sure are cruel, not only to him but to you as well.

one of megumi’s most regretful mistakes he’s made in his lifetime was, perhaps, taking you for granted.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

懐古 💭 : each time i push the thoughts away, you're pulling me in

Away from Home ft. Wakatoshi Ushijima

an angst scenario in which ushijima notices his partner is homesick.

920 words, angst scenario, gn! reader

Warnings: homesick reader

Wakatoshi knew.

He always knows. 

Sometimes it’s easy for you to forget how observant Ushijima truly is because he’s always silent about it. Most of his observations go unsaid. Like how he noticed the way you always hum to yourself when you’re in a good mood or the way your hair feels the softest the day after it’s been washed. He sees and makes note of almost everything going on around him. 

And most of the time he’s content with keeping his observations to himself. But not this time.

Ushijima began to worry about your wellbeing when he noticed small changes in your daily habitual actions. 

It was the slightest quiver in your bottom lip and the way you leaned into him, subconsciously looking for support, as your parents spoke to you over the phone detailing upcoming house renovations and updates on the state of your favorite lilac bushes that were currently blossoming.

It was the small sigh you let out after hanging up the phone and the way your shoulders were tense as you lay your head on his shoulder and sit in comfortable silence after the interaction on the phone.

It was the way your gaze lingered on the photos your mom sent showing the hummingbird feeders, and the way you passed the phone to him to give him a chance to see.

He had taken note of all of these things, but it was today that he finally knew what was the cause of your behaviors. 

It was the forced smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes when your parents asked you how you were doing during your call with them today that gave it away.

You were homesick.

But "homesick" don't seem to describe the extent of your feelings, he thought to himself. 

It was when you rose from your spot next to him after the call to go sit on the balcony that he became aware of the depth of your hidden feelings.

Earlier that month, you dragged your favorite chair out onto the balcony and would spend hours on end sitting out there. It was so that you could "feel the sky" you had told him when he'd asked why you had been spending so much time out there. Sometimes, you'd be out on the balcony, sketching the cityscape, and you'd show him the work when you'd completed them. But what he didn’t know was that in addition to the drawings he'd see, you’d also spend hours sketching your homeland from memory in attempt to regain connection to your home.

But he still knew you were longing for the fresh open air and the endless sky that you had grown up with even in your attempts to hide it from him. You couldn't escape the longing you felt for the place and people you loved so much.

Ushijima knew that you weren’t truly happy with him in the city, even though you loved him and would give anything for him. He thought about everything you’d done to ensure that he was able to follow his passion, from making him special lunches that worked within his diet, to spending endless nights sleeping alone when he was away. 

And, when reflecting on all he'd observed throughout the years of what you had done for him, Ushijima was overcome with an intense feeling of gratefulness. But at the same time, he felt a pull at his heart. He recognized the feeling as deep sadness. What if you had given up the life you truly wanted. For him. 

He feared that the most: that he couldn’t give you the life that you truly deserved and longed for. 

With him you could never be completely happy.

He knew he had to talk to you about it, so he waited for you to come back inside. It was not too long when you returned from the balcony.

“Darling,” he called out to you softly.

As he laid eyes on you, he noted that your face hid the sadness it once held. Your normal resting expression had returned. Not a trace of longing remained, he noted.

“What is it, Toshi?”

All of a sudden, all words left him, and he felt at a complete loss for expression of speech. He didn’t know how to raise the subject to you.

Should he begin to extend the immense gratitude he felt towards you? No. Surely you would suspect that he knew something was wrong. Should he just be honest and tell you that he knew you weren’t happy?

Seeing you standing there in front of him, he thought he couldn’t possibly.

And with that, he made his decision to let it go, like he had done many times before with other things. 

”Oh, I was just wondering what we’re having for dinner.”

You blinked, and he held his breath. Then, to both his relief and dismay, you smiled at him in your usual manner and began to list off the options for your evening meal as you move to sit beside him.

Little did you know, your words were falling on unwilling ears as Ushijima was too distracted by the encounter to be paying attention to you.

Weighing his decision to keep quiet, he thought that maybe it was better for you if you didn’t know that he knew what you were feeling.

At least that’s what he told himself to justify keeping quiet about the fact that he was noticing the lightness leaving your eyes, slowly, slightly, one day at a time.

haha maybe college changed me because I never thought I would be capable of writing angst. Sorry, I'm a little out of practice with writing fics, but I hope you liked it, but if angst isn't your cup of tea, don't worry, more fluff will be coming soon :)

Feel free to reblog if you liked it! :)

p.s. I missed you all and writing so much! if you're reading this, thank you for sticking around, and being patient with me when I took my massive hiatus as I adjusted to college life. <3

Happy birthday, Nanamin! 🥖👔 07/03 !

love will feel (and maybe even be) so much more accessible when you stop thinking of it as this grand thing you have to be deserving of. it’s small, it’s in short moments, it’s in quick gestures, it’s in normal everyday things. when you think of it as something you have to discover or catch or deserve, you’ll miss how alive it already is all around you.

ding!

. . . gojo satoru. to me, to you.

note. vague manga spoilers ahead. i’d love to elaborate more on this dynamic; please let me know if you want me to as well.

satoru does not remember much of his childhood.

to him, memories of forever ago are left as though they were faded film strips, too damaged to even try and make something out of them. he doesn’t dwell on that part of his life because all he could ever recall was when he’s enlightened of his fate and the omnipotent power he possesses from a very young age.

but he did, however, catch a glimpse and managed to hold on—cling to—a few of the good ones.

and those memories were mostly with you.

“someone’s lost in their train of thought.” he hears your voice approaching from behind. he merely shrugs his shoulders, relaxing against the marble railing of his estate’s balcony.

“mm. yeah, guess i am.”

you offered him a can of soda—his favorite brand and flavor—that you brought with you. satoru’s lips curled into a small smirk as he awed at the thought of you remembering despite almost two decades of not seeing each other.

“you remembered.”

“of course. why wouldn’t i?” you reply with a quick, feeble chuckle. “you always used to nag me about how you could only ever enjoy a few sodas.”

“i just have preferences,” he tells you with a slight nudge to your side. “and it just so happened to be very specific.” he glances at the can he held, and though he had his blindfold on, he could still tell that you got it right; you got it down to a t. “i knew you loved me.”

“in your dreams.”

“mhm. in my dreams, indeed.”

“oh, god. i hate you.”

“i knew you missed me.”

you rolled your eyes at his remark, glancing at his soda, then taking a gulp of your own. “still your favorite, right?”

satoru doesn’t know what you’re referring to. whether you’re asking if you’re still his favorite or the soda, though he does have a concrete answer.

“yep! you’re so thoughtful, even though you pretend to have not missed me.”

“don’t feed your little ego, ‘toru. your head’s going to keep on expanding until it’s the size of a hot air balloon.”

“hey!”

conversations breeze by like the chilly night air, creeping in and making their way known. he thinks this is the most he’s ever felt like he’s home. his childhood home, a haven where he felt safe and could truly live a life that his younger self was deprived of duty to a handful of “duties” and whatnot.

it’s like the calm before the storm. the rest—his rest—before he takes on something that he should’ve dealt with a long, long time ago. he’s not afraid, oh no.

because he is satoru, after all. the strongest.

and then the memory of someone he also held close to his heart replays, like a sudden alarm that wanted to remind him.

“are you the strongest because you’re gojo satoru? or are you gojo satoru because you’re the strongest?”

“a penny for thought?” you ask, noticing his sudden quietness.

he perks up, a bit stunned in place. “just a question,” he sighs, setting his drink aside for later. “who am i to you?”

he thinks it’s stupid because he’ll always feel that there’s a barrier that separates him from others. from you. because he’s the strongest, and that’s what it means to be the strongest, right? to feel as though you’re being distanced from everybody else.

“who you are . . . to me?” you said, tilting your head to the side. “like, how i see you?”

“yes.”

god, satoru swallows the lump in his throat, anticipation clinging to his whole body as he waits.

“oh, well . . .”

he expected a handful of answers, but none of them ever came close to yours.

“is it weird that i still feel like i’m talking to fifteen-year-old you?” you told him. “it’s like my mind’s still processing to bridge the gap of our memories together; to fill in the years we haven’t seen each other, y’know?”

“i see you as ‘toru. and to me, you are just ‘toru. that same ‘toru who i’ve been with since when we’re literally in diapers,

who kept on annoying me to wear matching pajamas when we were kids for the sleepover he begged his parents to agree to,

that same ‘toru who was spoiled to the core that he was so surprised that he went quiet when little me decided that they were over it with your incessant whining of wanting to play on the seesaw when they wanted to play on the sand box,

thee ‘toru who’s eyes almost always surprised me during the most random times, in a good way, of course.”

ah, now he remembers. those good memories, which were probably his core ones.

“you’re satoru—no, ‘toru,” you hum, thrumming your finger against the marble top. “my best friend. not the strongest sorcerer, not the wielder of the six eyes, not the teacher at jujutsu tech, but just ‘toru. my ‘toru. ”

satoru swore he’d lost his voice upon listening to your answer. and suddenly he feels as though he were a little kid again, looking at you with the utmost adoration—slight infatuation, even—as you told him through his little tears that it was normal to scrape his knee when he’s learning to ride a bike to be able to join you!

“thanks,” he says with a chuckle. “didn’t know i needed to hear all of that until now.”

“don’t mention it, ‘toru,” you nod. “ah, now that sounded sappy. ew! bleh, thought i left all of that behind.”

“heh, i like it when you’re a sap,” he mused.

“of course you do. but we have a lot to catch up on, so you better not die out there, mr. sorcerer.”

he smiles at that. “yeah. i’ll keep that in mind.”

“you still have those big, blue eyes you always used to get out of trouble?”

“knew you missed my eyes, too.”

“do not. you sure they’re not neon green now?”

“ha. ha. funny.” for a moment, he takes his time to remove his blindfold, his hand shaking a little as he does so. he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

“look.”

satoru notices the way you paused, examining how his features have matured over the years, and yet he’s still the satoru you knew. your ‘toru, as you said so yourself.

“eh. put the blindfold back on.”

“y/n!”

“i’m just saying,” you laugh a little. “your eyes haven’t changed; still as ethereal as ever.” you slid your half-empty soda next to his, signaling that you wanted him to finish yours. he’s known this for so long.

“let’s catch up again when you’re free, ok? i already gave you my number, right?”

he glances at the can, seeing the number—your number—written against the glossy layer. “yeah, do you want me to walk you home?” he offers, soft and warm.

you shook your head. “some other time, ‘toru.”

he nods in understanding as he watches you leave. as you fade alongside the background, slowly yet surely, satoru’s memories of his childhood are rekindled, outdoing his dim ones.

he’s glad that you’re home.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader wc; 900+ genre; fluff a/n; prompt request for @luvnami <33 hope you like it!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The ‘U’ in Ushijima must stand for uncertainty, you’ve come to realize.

You suppose you could say the two of you were ‘dating’ — by a far stretch of the word. That is, if you could consider nightlong FaceTime calls and cheering him on at volleyball games dating.

You hadn’t even realized he was interested in you until Tendou pointed out that no, in fact, it was not normal for the Shiratorizawa ace to be following someone around campus like some love sick puppy,  and no, Tendou has never seen his partner smile, let alone smile at another person.

You had always thought Ushijima was always just… there. But now, he was making his presence known, and suddenly your vision was filled with nothing but him.

And maybe there was something charming about how he always seemed to find you. And you’ve discovered that Ushijima speaks exactly what was on his mind — it comforts you to know that he means what he says, and he says what he means.

And yet, it is exactly this bluntness that’s become the source of your confusion in the first place.

“So, are you guys going out?” Tendou had dared to ask one sunny afternoon during lunch time, picking at his food and staring at the two of you from above his chopsticks.

“Yes,” Ushijima answers instantly, wiping at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Your heart beats faster at the certainty of his words, sharing a surprised glance with Tendou.

That is, until Ushijima says, “Y/N has P.E. after lunch, so I will have to walk her outside.”

You physically had to stop yourself from banging your head on the table.

Tendou was not one to give up so easily though, opting for a more direct approach.

“No, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou sighs out exasperatedly, “I mean, are you guys together?”

You held your breath, wanting to know the answer just as much as the middle blocker did.

“Yes, we are together,” Ushijima says with his usual monotonous voice, though you don’t let yourself get too excited.

“We are eating our lunch together, Satori. Can’t you see?”

The school bell had rung as Tendou began his third attempt, and promptly the conversation had been swept away amongst the crowds of students trying to get back to class.

Keep reading

“atsumu, when i die —”

“no, stop, don’t say that. ‘ya aren’t going to die.” he interrupted you before you could even finish, his gaze burning.

“of course i won’t, i’m immortal!” you joked. and to this, he flashed a small smile.

“but, hypothetically, if i do die, i want you to make my coffin look cute. maybe LED lights? yeah, and —” you were cut off with your rambling by a kiss to your lips. the two of you savoring the fleeting moment, gripping onto his shirt as you felt yourself weaken from his touch.

“yes, angel, i’ll do that okay? now stop yappin’ about ‘ya dying. ‘ya aren’t goin’ to die. i — i won’t even let ‘ya.” he said with so much determination that you couldn’t help but believe him.

your eyes feel heavy. “‘tsumu?”

“hm?” he looks at you, shimmering eyes.

“i’m tired, i wanna go to sleep.”

“oh — okay, sure — i, i love ‘ya, goodnight. let’s talk again tomorrow, m’kay?” he asked, the hope in his voice felt quite cruel to even exist.

“of course, i love you.”

the beeping from the monitor went to a deafening halt. atsumu felt like he was suffocating, the air in his lungs evaporating. you — the air that filled his lungs, the air he breathes, ceased. the shimmer in his eyes turned into tears.

you two never really did get to properly talk again tomorrow, or the day after that, or ever again.

🥐🍳 cause' you took me home, but you just couldn't keep me

living life at your own pace isn’t a waste of time