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livinghostly · 1 month

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as usual @delzinrowe has my brain rotting at an exceptional rate

so let's talk about gojo and how he cannot drive

for the record, if gojo satoru wanted to drive, he could pick it up at anytime. he's gojo satoru after all, there's nothing he can't do, he's a god among humans.

but a god doesn't really need to learn how to drive.

as a youngster he always had people there to do that for him. at the mere snap of his fingers he had a ride to the candy shop. he likes to think he wasn't that much of a brat... but if his sweet tooth was particularly achey that day he might've gotten a bit of an attitude.

and as an adult, driving just wasn't a skill he deemed worthy of picking up. he could teleport anywhere he pleased without breaking a sweat. why waste his time with traffic and a stuffy car? besides, he loved to show off, and teleportation was just one of his many tricks.

so if you asked him, gojo satoru would tell you that he didn't need to learn to drive, he had much faster ways to get around.

that was, until (y/n) was giving him her address and the time of evening at which would be the best time to pick her up for their date, and satoru finds himself so blinded in his moment of gooey infatuation, that he agrees to her terms without thinking twice. it's not until she's walked back towards her classroom that his best friend and fellow colleague spawns next to him and points out his fatal flaw.

"and how exactly do you plan to pick her up, romeo?" geto suguru half purrs half sneers out the little comment, and it's obvious that gojo freezes up in that moment.

"suguru, can i borrow your c-"

"absolutely not"

and that's how he finds himself in this position. staring at the brand new sleek black car in his driveway with his hands on his hips and the shiny new keys to match clutched in his hand. he's been staring it down for a good ten minutes now, much to his kids' annoyance and impatience.

"well are you gonna drive it or not?" the spiky haired boy next to him huffs.

"don't rush me, brat" gojo huffs back with the same level of childish frustration.

"i'm sure you'll do fine," the boy's sweetheart of a sister counterpart chirps up. "you have a license, don't you? it'll be like riding a bicycle"

gojo's face twists into a sour wince, and now megumi and tsumiki are both staring up at him with wide apprehensive eyes.

"you don't have a license?" megumi barks out before his guardian could dish out some half-assed lie. "isn't it illegal to drive without-!?"

a large hand is slapped over the boy's mouth before he could finish berating the man, and gojo's baring his teeth in that grin that the kids know means he's up to bullshit.

"nonsense!" the white haired sorcerer practically cheers. "of course i have a license! i'm a phenomenal driver. i'm a phenomenal everything,"

megumi and tsumiki share a side eye that suggests they believe otherwise. gojo rolls his eyes and finally struts over to the driver's side door. those kids always believed the worst in him.

without another word, he plops in, sticks the key in the ignition, and tries not to startle as the car purrs to life and all the lights come flickering on.

he realizes in this moment that he's never even sat in the driver's seat of a real car.

but he's driven go karts with suguru and shoko many times, in high school- and even just last week when he begged them to.

the car groans at him when he tries to force a shift into reverse. it groans again when his foot taps the gas before settling on the break, and finally he' can move the's putting the car in reverse.

with a grin he glances out the window where the fushiguro siblings are still standing at the edge of the lawn, watching the whole ordeal with silent concern. he gives them a thumbs up before tapping the gas again.

his head is jerked forward as the car speeds backwards faster than expected, the needle on the speedometer flying towards the 10 before shooting back down when he slams on the left pedal again. it screeches to a halt before it could even enter the road, surely leaving a short streak of black on the otherwise clean driveway.

gojo winces, and dares a peek out the window. he's not surprised to find his kids with their hands clamped over their mouths. he gives them another, more sheepish, thumbs up.

well, maybe this was a bad idea, he starts to wonder as he checks the street behind him. there was little to no traffic right now, which made for the perfect time for a driver with only five minutes of a youtube tutorial for knowledge on the rules of the road to enter the roadway. and besides, nothing was going to keep him from going on this date.

so he puts the car in park before rolling down the window and leaning out to holler at the kids.

"keep the door locked and call uncle suguru if there's an emergency!"

"okay! have fun!" tsumiki's ever so present optimism is in full bloom as she smiles and waves at her guardian.

"he's not our uncle" megumi mutters with a roll of his eyes.

they stand on the lawn and watch as gojo slowly backs out of the driveway, hitting the brake every two seconds and jolting the car the whole way out. he's crooked in the street, and it takes him a second longer than the average driver to put it in drive and get going. even then, the kids stand and watch a few minutes longer as gojo intermittently taps the brake and gas, rolling forward only a few feet a minute.

"do you think he's gonna get arrested?" tsumiki asks her brother once he's turned off their street, still on his tap and go method.

"who knows," megumi replies. "but he's definitely losing the car"

"yeah, definitely"

by the time gojo actually pulls up to (y/n's) address- the car crooked in your empty driveway, he's certain that he's mastered driving with the past ten minutes of experience, and surely she'll be impressed.

obviously, he misses the way she tilts her head at his parking job, but she quickly shakes it off as she joins him in the car, too eager for their first proper date to question the angle of his car in her driveway.

he has to gush over how pretty she'd done herself up for the night for a good five minutes before they get moving, and that's when his true colors begin to shine.

forgetting that he wasn't properly pulled into the drive, he backs over the curb after a rush of gassing and braking in reverse. (y/n) may have delayed in buckling her seatbelt, but she's just as soon scrambling to grab the belt and snap it into place, clutching onto it as discreetly as possible.

when he sends a proud grin her way, she can't help but force a gentle smile back at him. he might still be tapping the brake an unnecessary amount of times as he cruises down the road, but she doesn't have it in her to question his ability- or lack thereof.

however, at the end of the night when he drops her off and they solidify their plans for a second date, she insists that she picks him up next time <3

___

a/n: he's literally just a girl !!! xoxo ~ jordie

#HES JUST A GIRL #he’s just like me fr #this is so cute i can’t #megumi and tsumiki best siblings !!!!#spleen rec

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livinghostly · 1 month

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forever endeavor

verse 1

word count: 3.1 k

a long estranged peer appears to nanami kento on a rainy night, bent and broken. despite his reservations, kento is a good man.

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, drinking mention, reader is sober, mentions of violence and minor character death

read on ao3

every since he became a salaryman, all of nanami kento’s wednesday nights have been exactly the same. he gets off of work at 6pm sharp, and takes the same train back to his neighborhood. he buys just enough groceries for a week from the same grocery store, then walks to his modest second-story apartment. when he gets there, he’ll put away the perishable items before taking a shower and having a well-cooked dinner paired with a moderately priced beer. after tidying up, he’ll read for a few hours before he goes to bed. just like clockwork.

he’s particularly eager to get home quickly today. there was a rainstorm forecasted for the evening, and there’s a light drizzle coming down already. by the time nanami reaches the shelter of his building, his clothes are sticking to his body uncomfortably and he wonders if any of the paperwork in his briefcase has gotten wet. he dismisses the thought quickly; he should only worry about work when he’s on the clock.

he’s halfway done drying his hair when he hears a knock from the front door. with the sound of the hair dryer and the rain outside, he nearly misses it. more likely than not, it’s another salesman coming to peddle high speed internet. nanami pities them, having to work late through inclement weather. but he isn’t going to waste any of his precious time off work refusing another useless upgrade or appliance.

the knocking grows louder. it occurs to nanami that one of the nice older folks next door may need his help, perhaps changing the batteries in their fire alarm. the incessant beeping had gotten on his nerves the night before. reluctantly, nanami sets aside his hair dryer into its holder. he can’t help but drag his feet a little as he goes to the door.

when he opens it, it’s certainly not the wizened, ever smiling mrs. tanaka.

it’s you.

it’s you and you’ve obviously been crying. the rainwater has you soaked from head to toe, and the puddle forming at your feet has an alarming crimson tint.

“sorry for showing up unannounced. i tried to call, but i think you changed your number.”

“why are you here?” nanami sounds regrettably calloused, but he thinks the question is fair. you had stopped talking to him years before he left the jujutsu world in favor of a stable desk job.

you break eye contact. “i don’t know why. i just couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

nanami can’t remember if he’s ever seen you look so small. he’s eyeing the bloodstains on your clothes when you speak again: “it’s not mine.”

he clears his throat. you look up at him again. he tells you to come in and watches you creep across the threshold like a wounded animal. you alight on the bench in his foyer, next to his meager shoe rack.

“don’t use that chair.” he sees you stand up immediately, as if the seat had burned you. “sit over there”. your eyes follow the gesture of his hand towards his dining table.

“have you eaten?” you shake your head no. “figures.”

nanami makes his way to the kitchen and begins cooking two portions wordlessly. as he chops up his aromatics, he takes the opportunity to look you over. you’re perched on the very edge of the seat, as if you’re still prepared to run at any moment. with your wet hair sticking to your forehead and the hunch of your shoulders, nanami is reminded of how geto looked in the days before his defection.

it’s silent, save for the sizzling of his veggies in hot oil and your occasional sniffs. your silence unnerves him. during your time together in high school, nanami had seen you happy, scared, angry, on the verge of death. he’d never seen you quiet.

he sets both of your plates down on the table. he sets two beers down. one for him, one for you.

you stare at the unopened bottle for a stretch, but you don’t reach for it. your brow furrows and he sees you make some silent decision he’s not privy to.

“i’m, uh, sober now.”

it has been 3 years.

he pours you a glass of water instead.

you don’t touch that either.

the two of you eat in silence. you clear the plate in slow, measured bites. as if to be polite. when you’re both finished, nanami stands to clear the table. you let him take your cutlery and plate wordlessly, staring down at the table again.

nanami turns to look at you from the kitchen sink. “use my shower. i’ll leave you clean clothes outside the door. it’s down the hall, first door on the left.”

you obey, wordlessly. he goes to his bedroom closet and picks out a clean t-shirt and shorts for you. he pulls out an extra towel and shakes it off, hoping it hasn’t gotten dusty from sitting in storage. the items are left at the door, and nanami returns to washing his dishes.

they’ve been dried and returned to the cupboards when you come back to the living room. with the grime and blood scrubbed off, the three years absence now becomes obvious. your cheeks have lost the last of your baby fat, and your eyes have an unfamiliar hardness to them. they drift around the room, unsure of where to land.

he tells you to sit on the couch, and you do. he sits down on the other side of it, first aid kit in hand. he takes your left hand and starts cleaning the small scrapes and cuts on your forearm.

“are you living on the tokyo campus?” he prompts.

you nod, hardly moving your head.

“should i call you a cab?”

that elicits a stronger response: “no!”

you take a shaky breath. “i… don’t want to go back right now.”

“where do you want to go then?”

he watches your eyebrows knit together. “i don’t know.”

“that’s fine.”

“sorry.”

he shifts to make eye contact with you. “you can sleep here tonight. we’ll talk tomorrow.”

nanami wakes up that morning after a night of uneasy sleep. he brushes his teeth, styles his hair, and puts on his suit in the silence of his apartment. he’s finished eating breakfast and halfway out the door when the impulse to check on you strikes.

you’re most likely awake, he reasons. in high school, you had been a morning person of the highest degree, consistently up at dawn and irritatingly chipper. but you don’t respond to his two quick knocks against the door. when he hears stifled whimpers, he quietly swings it open. he’s not sure why he does it. probably to make sure you aren’t trying to hang yourself with his linens. he wouldn’t put it past a jujutsu sorcerer to do something equal parts inconvenient and insane in someone else’s apartment.

what he finds is somehow worse. you’re curled up in the fetal position, with the sheets and blankets kicked to the floor. you seem to be asleep, but tears are running down your face. from the size of the stain under your cheek, you’d been crying for most of the night. you’re murmuring something that he can’t quite make out into the pillow.

he turns to leave sharply. he clearly wasn’t supposed to see this. he’s going to be late for work if he doesn’t leave soon. but he can’t help but look back over his shoulder at you, one last time, before he closes the door.

what a mistake.

in those extra few seconds, you shift, just enough to make your sleeptalking coherent. he realizes you’re repeating what you had thought would be your last words to him.

“please don't leave kento. please don't leave me here alone.

“i'll never forgive you if you do.”

nanami spends his workday more irritable than ever. how the hell is he supposed to give a damn about “performance metrics analysis” and “percent change to LY” when you’ve appeared out of the blue after five years of the cold shoulder to open up old wounds?

it gnaws at him all day, the memory of your last conversation.

you had come knocking at his door, late one night. gojo satoru, the incorrigible gossip, had told you “nanamin’s on his way out” and pranced away. you were there to find out exactly what the white-haired sorcerer was talking about.

he’d told you how he was considering leaving the sorcery world for something safer, more stable. exorcising curses was tiring, dangerous, and not his business. there were other sorcerers.

you’d furrowed your brow, told him he had a duty, that there were people who needed him. you’d dug a pointed index finger into his chest to make your point, holding yourself back from shoving him with rage simmering in your eyes. (halfway through his lunch break, it occurs to him that you had been talking about yourself. he bites his cheek by accident.)

he had shouted back at you then, about how pointless it all was. hadn’t you seen what had happened to geto? to haibara?

that had you screaming in kento’s face then, calling him a coward. in response, he’d dismissed you as a teen alcoholic with delusions of heroism.

the memory of it has kento groaning in the middle of a proposal meeting with a client. he has to play it off as an sudden stomachache, while suffering another admonishing glance from his manager.

the worst of it had been when you’d stopped yelling. he stared at the top of your head and listened to you take two deep, shaky breaths. the silence had made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t identify. then you’d muttered, “haibara was wrong about you too.”

he’d told you then, voice glacial, that you could do as you pleased and go die. he slammed the door in your face and listened to you cry through the door.

after that night, you stopped interacting with him entirely. you went silent when he walked into the same room, and turned your eyes to the floor until he left. you dropped missions where you were assigned together until the higher-ups stopped. he saw and less and less of you until one day, gojo had asked him what he’d said to make you transfer all the way to kyoto.

two years later, he submitted his resignation paperwork to yaga.

it’s no surprise that nanami’s manager sends him home early. his coworkers whisper amongst themselves as he packs up his briefcase. in the last three years, kento’s established himself as the model corporate drone, dutifully working himself to the bone. day in, day out.

nanami goes to check on you first when he gets home. you’re in the same position you were when he left in the morning. if you’ve noticed him come in, you don’t give an indication of it.

he checks the kitchen sink and the fridge next. both are the same as he left them; you haven’t eaten.

an early dinner then. he remembers the spicy food you used to buy for your classmates after a tough mission, the way you’d laugh at yourself for ordering dishes that were way beyond your tolerance. he pulls out ingredients for curry udon, extra chili peppers.

when two bowls are set at his dining table, he goes back to the guest room. unsurprisingly, you haven’t moved. you’re staring blankly at the wall when nanami presses gently against your shoulder. no response. he gives you a little shake.

“i made food. come eat.”

you burrow deeper into your pillow instead. “no thank you.”

he feels his eye twitch. “well i already made your half.”

“i’m not hungry.”

nanami feels like he’s in high school again. only his seniors could cause him so much aggravation. he gives you a firmer shake. “it’s going to get cold.”

“eat without me.”

“no.”

“i’m serious, nanami. leave me alone.” the words come out muffled because you’ve squirmed your face flat into the mattress.

nanami’s had quite enough. he really has. he got lectured by his boss for being distracted because of you. and now you’re acting like a teenaged brat in his house, refusing to eat the the meal he made for you.

luckily, he’s not the teenaged brat that he used to be. he’s a grown man. one that’s strong enough to pick your dead weight up out of bed, sling you over his shoulder, and carry you kicking and whining to the dinner table.

it’s not an easy task. a lifetime of using a highly physical cursed technique and four years of being a pro exorcist have given you an athlete’s build, sturdy enough where your flopping around threatens to tip you both over a few times. but he manages to wrangle you down the hall and deposit you unceremoniously onto the floor next to the dining table.

you give him a baleful glare from where you’re sat.

“you’re at the table already. might as well eat.” he hopes he doesn’t sound too smug.

being hauled around like a bag of flour seems to have cowed you for the moment and you eat without any further argument. he tries his best to suppress a patronizing grin when you have to ask him for water.

when the two of you finish eating, you pick up both bowls and take them to the sink to wash. kento gets up too, and stops you halfway.

“i’ll wash the dishes. you go brush your teeth.”

“you washed them last night though, i would be a bad houseguest if i didn’t return the favor.”

“the only favor i need from you involves toothpaste and a brush. spares are in the medicine cabinet.”

you grin up at him, mood noticeably lighter after a good meal. “spares? you got lady friends sleeping over nanami?”

he flicks your forehead and takes the bowls out of your hands. “don’t make me drag you to the bathroom too,” he threatens.

you come back to find him after brushing your teeth. he signals you to sit at the table with a nod, putting away the last of the utensils.

he sits down across from you, solemn again. “tell me what happened last night.”

your good mood dissipates quickly. you look away from him, tilting your head down so he can only see the top of your head. “can i go back to bed?”

he frowns. “no. i need to know what could shake you up badly enough to send you here.”

you sit back in your chair and pull your knees up to your chest. chin rested on your knees, you stare at him quietly.

“i think i’d like that drink now”

…

there had been a prospective student, you tell him when he returns with another glass of water for you. you thought he’d been just like haibara yu. they way he smiled at strangers, the way he helped his sister tie up her pigtails for a playdate at the park, his easy charm and big appetite. he’d been fascinated by the manifestation of his cursed technique, and excited to attend jujutsu high.

you were sent to escort him to the tokyo campus in place of the usual managers, since there had been rumors of a high level curse in the area. higher ups had hoped to kill two birds with one stone by sending you.

you’d been halfway done piling his bags into the trunk of the company car when you’d sensed it. it had likely been attracted to the boy’s cursed energy residuals and followed the trail to his building. you’d left him in the car and run off to dispatch the curse.

you’d been able to pinpoint it’s exact location with your cursed technique, but it was too late by the time you’d reached it. the curse was a mangled, reptilian thing with too many eyes and even more spines. when you’d slammed the door open, it had twisted its horrible body around something possessively. the sight of two little pigtails, bloody and askew, had every single single hair on your body bristling with abject horror.

you’d only paused for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for the boy to shove past you. he’d followed you from the car, ignoring your instructions and eager to help. the curse had turned then, and you’d watched as the curse’s long tail gored into his side before flinging him across the room.

it hadn’t even been a particularly strong curse, you tell nanami with a choked sob, maybe a high grade four or low three. but that boy had died in your arms, crying over the loss of his little sister, begging you to tell his mother he was sorry.

nanami watches you fight to stay composed. it takes a couple moments for you to rein in your breathing and blink away the tears. then he sees your face smooth over, and your eyes fix on some invisible point in the distance.

your voice is hollow and flat when you start to speak again: “when we were protecting riko, i knew i wasn’t enough. i’ve never been anything special, not like satoru or suguru. i’m not even as useful as shoko. i could never keep up with them, even if i wanted to. i felt like i shared the blame, but i knew in my heart there was nothing i could have done for any of them. i was barely grade three then. what chance did some wimpy kid stand against a demon like toji fushiguro?”

you clench your hands until you see your knuckles turn white. “but i always thought, maybe if i had been with haibara, he wouldn’t have died. i held onto that ‘maybe’ for years.

“but i was there this time. i was strong enough. but nothing changed. it was like watching him die right in front of me. and i knew for certain, this time, that it was my fault. i failed.”

nanami can only watch, dumbfounded, as you take a deep breath and swipe your palms across your face. “i came to you because i couldn’t go back to jujutsu tech. i couldn’t go back knowing they would take my report and send me right back out on another job. i couldn’t face anybody, knowing what i did.”

“then don’t.” the sound of his voice surprises the both of you. “you can stay here with me until you’re ready to go back.”

“what if… what if i’m never ready?”

“quit. get an office job. it’s only slightly less aggravating.”

your watery chuckle lightens the weight on his chest, just the smallest degree.

#LOVVEEEEEEE #need more nanami fics in my life #GOD this is so good #has me giggling and also crying #need him #spleen rec

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