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temozarela · 24 days

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-> isn't it good, norwegian wood?

GETO X READER MDNI, slow burn, fluff, angst, smut, angsty geto, comfort, reader is kinda tired, plot

you and geto meet 6 years after his defection

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

TAGS: @sakuichan, @username23345

part 1

ao3 version

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You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the screen of your computer. You were supposed to be completing a report but the sun had long set and your brain refused to cooperate. Down-heartedly, you buried your head in your hands, stifling a yawn. Everything just seemed so… bad. Your hair was greasy, you were beginning to smell yourself through your deodorant and perfume, your coffee was cold, and you were the only person left in the office. Even Nanami had gone home 2 hours prior, leaving you to struggle over your half-finished report. Unfortunately for yourself and your coworkers, there has been an influx of curse users in Japan, meaning that your compulsory hours had been increased. At first you were delighted by the idea of some extra pocket money, but with all of the work you had been doing, there was no time to enjoy it. You knew it was getting worse too, you hadn't seen Gojo in a week and Shoko’s dark circles were deepening with every wave of injured sorcerers that washed up at her office. Of course, the higher-ups weren’t any help, so it had become the norm for you to wake up at 6am and return home at 10pm as you cracked down on the damages that the elders refused to assist with. This had been happening for a few months now, and you were exhausted. If it were any other situation, you’d request time off, but you knew that your coworkers would take on the burden if you didn’t. So there you were, fingers hovering over the keys as you tried to recount your hectic shift. It seemed so cruel, after stepping over so many dead bodies and dodging death countless times yourself, to be forced to relive it so soon. If they wanted to know what was happening, they could see for themselves. In fact, you’d welcome it. Maybe then, they’d dish out the work a bit more ethically.

You blinked slowly, attempting to force a rise of energy inside of you. You didn’t want to fall asleep at work again. Somewhere in the background, rain pattered against the windows. Shit. You reluctantly glanced at your screen, squinting at the brightness in contrast with the dark room. Realistically, you knew that you weren’t going to get anything else done that night, but you also knew that if you didn’t do it then, you would have to do it later. You groaned, wanting to slam your head against your desk more than anything. Tomorrow. You’d do it tomorrow. If you went home then and had a decent sleep, you’d be more motivated tomorrow. That’s what you told yourself. You were more than happy to turn the computer off and pack up your belongings. More and more, you were glad that you commuted by train, because the naps you took then were sacred, driving would’ve pushed you over the edge.

Arriving home looked like throwing your shit on the floor and staring blankly at the fridge, realising you were supposed to shop for groceries that day. Tomorrow you were headed into the countryside to check out suspicious activity, there was no way you’d be able to get your shopping done then. Usually you did city missions, but you were covering for the students. God knows they were doing too much as well. You sighed. There were enough ingredients for you to cook a meal, but you were so tired right now… you could go without… just for one night. Some nights you didn’t even change out of your clothes and you had given up on makeup a while back. At this point, your home felt like it was only your bed. Your TV, speakers, sofas, and books had gone untouched for so long, you’d be surprised if they weren’t blanketed with dust by now. You showered, of course, but it seemed like a mere blink before your body hit your bed. Sleep didn’t rest you anymore, but it was some sort of break in the chaos of your life. At the very least, you were happy to have that.

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The commute into rural Japan was pleasantly silent. It relaxed you to watch the swaying meadows roll past, the white splodges of sheep like a stroke of oil paint as the train hurtled past. You vaguely registered one or two others on the other side of the carriage, you remembered the monk especially. To your knowledge, it was your first time seeing a monk in public. Initially, the journey had been like any other: salesmen upon salesmen, and then a few. Each figure amongst the shuffling mass clad in a suit and tie, dark hair brushed back, and mouths set in a practised line between grey, hollow cheeks as they scrutinised each other through their furrowed eyebrows like some sort of Kubrick character. As the familiar robotic voice announced the train’s arrival at the city-centre, an encore of clicking shoes and soft whines of swinging briefcases played in a harsh crescendo, the piece hitting its chorus as the doors opened, and the salesmen poured out like river water through a broken dam. After that, it was quiet. On a weekday morning, not many were heading into the middle of nowhere, but it made sense to you that a monk might. The other man looked like a foreigner, so that wasn’t widely suspicious to you either, though you might have considered it further had you slept more the previous night. After an hour or so, your eyelids fluttered shut and you began to drift in and out of sleep, the beginnings of gentle conversation between the few other passengers barely registered by you, their low voices becoming incomprehensible as they were drowned out by the ambience of the train. Perhaps, if you had been more alert, you would have noticed that they were heading to the location of the investigation. Maybe, if you had realised that, you would have listened closer and overheard the utterance of a very familiar name. However, the world around you was in limbo, your drowsiness dosing your nerves in soothing honey as your eyelashes rested against your warm cheeks. Sleep was euphoric. It had become such a relief to you that you had abandoned any hopes of seeking pleasure through strangers or potential romantic interests, the effort of understanding and compromising was exhausting in itself and your mind still hadn’t gotten over your teen fling. You thought about it sometimes, the potential to reunite with him, but every year it seemed more and more impossible. Since he left, your coworkers relied on you more and watched you with the underlying concern that one day you would slip through their fingers. Although, another reason lingered at the back of your head. It had been 6 years, did he even still want you? You told others that you had moved on, but he waited at the back of your mind, tapping his foot impatiently. He appeared in your dreams as a looming shadow, only recognisable through the kind smile it bore. You also saw him sometimes in the faces of others, their dark eyes making you stop in the headlight of their stare- so close, yet so different to the expression you could love. Besides those torturous reminders, what you could remember of him was hazy, in fact you barely remembered what he looked like. That didn’t stop you from missing him, however. You remembered the comfort he once brought you. Perhaps that was what you missed most, more than his body or charm.

You blinked hazily as the train approached your stop. Lethargically, you reached for your bags, pulling them over your shoulder as you stepped off into the station, distantly followed by the other two passengers from your carriage. You winced as you finally made it outside, light rain beginning to fall from the greying sky. However, it was fulfilling to inhale the fresh air- much fresher than the air at Shibuya station- as you rushed to your taxi, and drove towards the investigation site which, today, was an abandoned hospital. Before your arrival, you instantly knew there was something wrong. It wasn’t unusual that the area was void of human life, after all, it wasn’t near any residential areas. Sure, it wasn’t particularly unusual that the plantation was yellow and clearly overgrown either. However, two of the windows on the second floor had been shattered, which wasn’t particularly unusual by itself, but the broken shards were littered below the outside of the building, rather than the inside. See, that was unusual. It had been broken from inside. Someone had needed to escape. Fast. Discreetly. There were fire exits left, right, and centre- as you’d expect from a hospital- it was strange that someone would choose to evacuate from a window on the second story. You knew it must have been an ugly building, even before it was neglected, the dull boxiness of the hospital seeming like the kind of brutalist hellscape you’d find in a post-Soviet city. The upper edges of the building were blackened by the weather, and the only visible colour could be found in the yellowed blinds which clattered and trembled behind the savaged windows. Your wary gaze found a half-filled syringe containing ominous orange liquid, discarded in the mud. It made sense since it was a hospital… but when you really thought about it… how did it end up there? It looked like this place had been practically untouched since its closure which was… probably around 10 years ago…

A shiver ran down your spine.

If the curse had anything to do with needles, you wouldn’t hesitate to turn around, you decided.

You hadn’t really been given clear instructions, in fact, you weren’t given much more than a place and a time. With a glance at your watch, you noted that you were 5 minutes early as planned, so it made some sort of sense to why you couldn’t see the window you were supposed to be meeting. It was only meant to be a quick chat to fill you in on the details before you looked for yourself, but you had assumed they may have arrived a little early anyway. Apparently that wasn’t the case, so you waited in the rain, feet planted in the overgrown grass and shivering as cold droplets trickled down your neck. The next time you checked your watch, it was the time of the meeting, and there wasn’t a single person in sight. Momentarily, you considered venturing inside. Maybe something had happened to them. You glanced around. The guy couldn’t have gotten lost, could he? It’s a pretty obvious landmark.

10 minutes late.

You were getting restless. And drenched.

The window could wait, you were heading inside.

The front door was unlocked, most likely in anticipation of your visit, and you walked into what you assumed had once been the reception. Everything was so… grey. You could tell that at one point, they had made an effort of decorating with bright colours, but years of neglect had sucked out the life like a backstreet dentist, leaving everything the same dull grey; not to discount the slight variations such as grey-with-a-hint-of-mustard-yellow and grey-but-slightly-pink-but-it’s-mostly-grey-who-are-you-fooling. It stank of wet paper and what you prayed wasn’t asbestos, as well as a lingering trace of chemicals. The mould was a delightful pop of colour however, adding a daring element of almost-grey-but-green onto the aged, pale wallpaper. You grimaced, seriously considering whether the window had been organised to hand over a hazmat suit and a Bible before you gave your life to spilled cleaning agents and an undiscovered fungus. Perhaps they’d name it after you when you died. It was the least they could do, really.

After you journeyed up the dark stairs, you approached the operating rooms, and a wash of dread doused you like cold water. Whatever it was, you were close to it. Very close.

Because of your distinct lack of briefing, you barely knew who or what you’d be facing. There was a growing feeling that you recognised something, whether it was the cursed energy signature from the imminent threat or the familiar arms of your creator, it sparked a powerful reaction in your gut. You squinted, trying to make out the outline of the doorway using the little daylight that reached the corridor. You couldn’t help but notice how it was shockingly tidy. Sure, it was fucking disgusting, but everything was in its right place, tucked away by the ghostly hands of a nurse one decade ago. For some reason, it made it all the more terrifying. You stopped in front of the door, attempting to breathe through the suffocating pressure of whatever was beyond the door. It really was familiar, but it was too powerful for you to focus on it. It was like trying to fight a court trial whilst being waterboarded, and you weren’t entirely sure you could do it in normal conditions anyway, but you definitely couldn’t whilst partially submerged in liquid. You knew that for sure. The sheer amount of cursed energy seeping through the cracks of the door was headache-inducing. You gritted your teeth.

It was disastrously clear, then. Whatever or whoever was on the other side of the door was not your intended opponent. This mission should’ve been a field trip for you. This, however. This was a Gojo-level enemy. Not as strong, of course, but it lay somewhere in the gaping gap between the strongest grade 1 sorcerer and Gojo himself. Needless to say, it was too strong for you. You could accept that fact easily. In all honesty, your pride had left you the moment you entered the hospital.

Slowly, you backed away from the door, eyes fixed on the source of the outrageous cursed energy signature. It was consuming, the same way smoke engulfs a room. Your breaths were shallow and your limbs felt numb, you were probably shaking too, but you knew it would be ok if you kept your existence unknown and made a nimble escape. As dull light began to assist your vision, relief filled you. You were almost out. A few more steps and you’d be back in the stairwell. Then you could run.

Except you couldn’t. Because your back had hit a wall. A wall that hadn’t been there before.

You looked left, then right.

No… there definitely… shouldn’t be a wall behind you…

Oh, God.

“Are you the window?” you nervously grinned at nobody in particular. You were staring too, wide-eyed at the dark corridor before you, well-aware of your hands shaking, “You’re awfully late, you know…”

“My apologies.”

“Ha…”

The sound of a smooth, human voice was somewhat of a relief to you.

You could talk your way out of this one.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for this for a very… long… time...”

…Or maybe you couldn’t.

Inwardly you groaned, wanting to cry, “Fancy being a good Samaritan and forgive me for my sins?” you tried. It was always worth preaching kindness to your potential murderer in what could very well be your final moments. They didn’t teach that at school, but it must’ve worked at least once before, right?

“Enlighten me.” The person- a man- behind you sounded stiff.

“I dunno,” you smiled weakly, “It might seem difficult to believe but… there could be a few people who’d have a bone to pick with me right now.”

The man behind you hummed in thought, “I’m shocked.”

“Really?” Since you started working more hours, you’d dealt with countless curse users. It’d be a surprise to you if there wasn’t a request for your bounty for you on some dodgy website. As much as you’d love a copy of your own ‘DEAD OR ALIVE’ poster to frame, the ‘ALIVE’ part terrified you. Unfortunately, being a wanted person wasn’t quite the honour that Luffy made it out to be.

“No.”

You scowled. In response, the man’s voice rang out behind you, “You don’t recognise me?”

“Aww,” you turned your head slightly to grin over your shoulder, “Did you think you were special? I’m sorry if I didn’t make it clear that we weren’t gonna be exclusive.”

Suddenly you were being spun around.

“Are you sure that you don’t recognise me?”

You blinked.

You blinked twice.

That voice…

“Holy shit.”

The man looked at you in the dark.

“You’re that monk from the train.” …No… you knew him...

The man’s grip on you tightened, “Come on...”

You winced, “Is that… not it?” When he didn’t reply, you partially disregarded your fear in lieu of guilt, leaning closer to squint at him, “I can’t really see, sorry...”

“Oh, hang on-”

No, you definitely recognised him… buried deep in your subconscious… somewhere…

“Holy shit.” you exclaimed.

“Geto?”

Exasperated, Geto looked down at you.

“Obviously.”

“Sorry.” you smiled, sheepishly, “You wouldn’t have happened to see a window around here, would you?”

Geto’s frowned, “There never was one, it was a set-up.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to intercept the students… but you’re here instead.” You cringed.

Man, he’s pissed…

“Geeze, sorry.” you drawled.

It was strange seeing him again. Truthfully, you had no idea how to act around him. You still couldn’t see him very well, but the glistening gold silk on his robes made him shine like a heavenly figure, though considering his criminal record… he probably wouldn’t be an angel.

There were better places to run into your teen crush-turned-serial killer.

“There’s a special grade curse in there.” you pointed to the operating room you’d just backed away from.

Geto looked at you strangely, “I know, I put it there.”

Of course.

“Seriously?” you muttered, embarrassed, “Almost gave me a heart attack, you know…”

An awkward silence arose between the two of you. You had planned your reunion with him countless times when you were younger. Out of the hundreds of different scenarios, none of them started like this.

“I… um…” you scratched the back of your neck, “Wanna go outside? It’s just… it’s dark in here… I can’t, you know…” you cleared your throat, “I can’t see you.”

“It’s raining.” Geto replied dubiously, watching you as if he expected something,

You raised an eyebrow, “You scared or somethin’?”

Geto snorted, “Of course not, excuse me for not wanting to get soaked.”

“Right.” you’d forgotten about the rain, it wasn’t difficult to believe that it had gotten heavier than before, “We can sit in the reception if you don’t mind getting mesothelioma.”

“It’s not exactly ideal,” Geto sighed, “but sure that works.”

You wanted to slap yourself for the awkwardness between the two of you, but there was something about it which reminded you of your fondness for Geto. That was it, wasn’t it? The fact you were always able to be a social disaster around him was what initially drew you to him. He was patient, but not pitiful. Truthfully, sometimes he was even worse than you.

He followed you to the bottom floor as you headed towards the front door. Once you were outside, you turned to get a proper look at him. True, he was recognisable, but he had changed so much in these last years. Notably, Geto’s face had slimmed, emphasising the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the hollowness of his cheeks. He was less of a boy now, and if you hadn’t known him beforehand, he would’ve intimidated you. His hair was longer too, the strands framing his face reached the peak of his nose whilst the rest touched his lower back. Geto’s eyes were exactly how you remembered them though; deep and pensive. He had the kind of resting expression which made you second guess yourself when you suggested something. It had always seemed that with every casual, self-deprecating joke, Geto was analysing it, carefully peeling the fragile layers of the satirical overtones to expose your innermost vulnerabilities. To many, it was unnerving. Any casual comment intended to pull a negligent laugh from others received a dark, analytical look from Geto. That’s how it had always been, and it’s why you had taken a liking to him. Often, you couldn’t find the confidence to admit to distress or insecurity, but Geto always knew. He knew from the way you would chastise yourself for the smallest mistakes, and the fact you’d stop talking when you were overwhelmed. You didn’t have to say anything, and that was a relief to you. Geto knew. You wondered if he knew how you were feeling now- you sure didn’t.

“Are you ok?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. He was always difficult to read but he just looked at you. He wasn’t glaring, he wasn’t staring, he was just… looking. You watched him expectantly. “Geto?” you pressed. Geto didn’t respond, at least verbally. He just looked moderately pained, as he once did when he’d linger in the morgue with Shoko. His eyes flickered from you to the ground, almost… shyly? Was he shy?

“I was waiting for you.” Geto muttered, “You never came.”

Oh. Yeah.

Nevermind.

The honeymoon of your reunion ended with the clanging of a guillotine over cupid’s head. Inside of you, a small, childish hope had foolishly sprouted, praying that he’d be understanding. You cringed as you felt it shrivel up in the deepest depth of your gut, the blossoms blackening and ripping as it rotted within you.

“You act like your defection didn’t permanently scar the jujutsu society.” Geto raised his eyebrows, “Yes, it did.” you pressed before he could protest, “I couldn’t leave, even if I had wanted to. Yaga and Gojo wouldn’t let me out of their sight.”

And just like that, you were arguing.

“Did you even try?” he scoffed.

You groaned, “Believe it or not, Geto, becoming the housewife of a wanted criminal isn’t quite on my agenda. In fact, because of you I have more work to do than ever. We all do.”

“Just because everyone else is willing to suffer a poor job doesn’t mean you have to in order to save them.” Geto narrowed his eyes.

“Sure, but some don’t have a choice.” you challenged, “Remember Gojo?”

Geto scoffed, “Remember Satoru? Of course I do.” It was a low blow, you realised, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel guilty. “Who do you think I am?” he asked, voice low and hurt.

You shifted, awkwardly, “You left him to suffer.”

“He’s suffering?” Geto’s tone dulled.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry, “You thought he wouldn’t?” a pause. “Well,” you added, quietly, “I don’t know if he’s realised it yet but… yeah, he is.”

“Oh.” Geto’s lips thinned, offence flashing in his narrowed gaze, “Why would you tell me that?” he muttered, flinching backwards as if your words had punctured him like a misfired bullet.

“You wanted to know why I didn’t join you. That’s why.” You looked away, failing to grasp for words that would just fix things between you, “Well, that amongst other reasons…” You didn’t want to explain your own turmoil and struggles. Love didn’t equate to trust. You loved his touch and who he was, but you couldn’t trust the man in front of you to hear you and react fairly. It was all too predictable, and you feared that if you told him, your instincts would be proven. Sure, he’d always been cunning and sly, but also… manipulative. The word struggled to materialise in your brain, your subconscious trying to sugarcoat it as ‘intelligence’ and ‘caring’ in its reluctance to face his change.

His upset gaze softened, “Other reasons?”

You shook your head, “It’s not important right now.”

“I’d beg to differ.” Geto argued, “I have a right to know.” He was pushing you, testing you, even. You weren’t in the right headspace for this, you were so tired… so, so tired…

“You have no such right,” you scoffed, “but I apologise that you weren’t prepared for the consequences of your own actions.” A tense moment passed and you sighed, “If it helps, I wasn’t either.”

It was a poor attempt at softening the blow of your unfiltered words, but it wasn’t untrue. Betrayal pinched and poked at the supple flesh of your heart. You needed to realise it but… it wasn’t that easy. “No,” Geto stepped towards you, “It doesn’t.”

“Pity.” you rolled your eyes.

The dry remark left your lips before you could stop yourself. Geto froze. The silence that followed weighed on your shoulders, guilt creeping up on you.

“I’m sorry.” you murmured, “I shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.”

The crawling discomfort at your own insincerity grasped your shoulders with heavy talons, the needle-sharp fingertips grazing your gentle skin, teasing your raw skin as blood threatened to bead in their wake and flow.

“It’s fine.” Geto said, stiffly.

You groaned internally, it all felt so childish. For a fleeting moment, you questioned the boy you once knew. Was Geto the boy who’d read with you on those humid summer nights, or was he the unsettling murderer in front of you?

“I wasn’t expecting you to keep to your promise.” he added, bluntly.

“I mean, I was 17,” you agreed carefully, “I had no idea what the future would hold. Neither did you.”

It was a lifeline, the final one you could spare. You could only beg that Geto would catch it with splayed hands.

Geto looked at you with scrutiny, “That’s true.”

It was enough. You could work with this.

You watched him warily, nodding slowly.

“Was it worth it?” Geto asked, seemingly more neutral.

Was it worth it?

“I don’t know.” You replied, honestly, “Things could be better.”

Geto stepped forward, putting his hand on your shoulder, “Then come with me. If things are worse, go back and I’ll take the blame.”

All too forward, predictable and exactly what you feared.

“…if you want to,” he added a second too late.

With narrowed eyes, you ignored him, instead choosing to glance around the clearing, noting the same emptiness as before. Geto didn’t move, his hair starting the curl as rain drenched the two of you. His hand on your shoulder started to feel heavy as he squeezed you gently, letting the presence of his reluctant affection be known, despite his hard stare. What could you do? You were still as unsure as you were 6 years ago about joining him.

“Where are you staying?” you asked, the action of your head cocking allowing cold droplets to trickle down the side of your neck. You regretted it instantly. Perhaps a change of environment would help things. Perhaps it’d help you understand.

“Not far from here.” Geto responded monotonously.

“I’d like to come over.” you tried, “Not for long.”

He nodded to himself, “Ok.”

Then he spared you a small smile and your heart leaped with the first and only genuine affection he’d shown you since you’d reunited.

That was him. That was Geto, right there. It wasn’t much, but you revelled in what you had.

You inwardly sighed, tiredly.

Maybe, just maybe, the two of you would get there in the end.

As you journeyed to his home, which really was in the middle of nowhere, you sat side by side in what was mostly silence. The two of you talked too, dropping shallow comments about your lives and complaints about the overly-touchy couple on the other side of the carriage as you took the train a few stops further out. More and more, Geto seemed like himself, even if the progress was minuscule. It was something. If anything, hope thumped in your chest- naive hope albeit, but hope nonetheless. After a while, you finally approached his home. It looked small, yet lived-in. Outside, rows of vegetation orbited the building, as well as trees bearing fruit in various stages of ripeness.

“The girls are out, I’m afraid.” Geto called behind his shoulder as he unlocked the door, holding it open for you.

“Girls?” you inquired as you walked in, “Daughters or hostages?”

Geto laughed quietly, “Daughters.”

“You got a chick pregnant?” your response was paired with the twitch of your lip and the stutter in your step. You knew it was hypocritical, the sinking disappointment, you chastised yourself for feeling it… however...

The door clicked behind him and you heard his footsteps stilled behind you, “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” you replied, shortly.

“C’mon.”

You turned to look at him, blankly.

“Of course not.” Geto rolled his eyes.

You blinked, “Oh.”

“They’re adopted.” The way Geto said your name afterwards was in disbelief, “I told you I waited, didn’t I?”

“You may have mentioned it,” you sniffed, “yes.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, “You’re unbelievable,” he walked past you, brushing your shoulder as he did so, “you’re seriously more butthurt by that than the fact I murder people?”

“Ok?” you felt your cheeks burn, “And what if I am? I have priorities, Geto.”

He turned to look at you, his eyes boring into yours, “So, your priorities are… what, exactly?

“Um…” You scratched the back of your neck, “Nothin’” you waved your hand dismissively with a strained grin. “None of your business, really.” you rambled, searching desperately for some sort of a reaction, “You could use it against me, y’know? It’d be very dangerous if I told you.”

Geto looked at you strangely, “…Right.”

He was supposed to smile… or laugh… or do something at the very least, not just… walk past you…

You wanted to press rewind and try this all again.

You wanted to go home.

After a lost moment, you followed him helplessly. It was a simple home. There was more evidence of life there than there was at your home, you knew that for sure. Drawings that were clearly drawn by an adolescent hand were woven throughout the decorations, depicting a family of three. It was clear that they were close. You felt left out. It seemed you had missed out on so much. Maybe Geto was right, maybe this was a better life. It still didn’t remove your responsibility in the shaman world, but Gojo’s students were the strongest they’d seen in years, right? Maybe you were allowed this. Maybe you were allowed to welcome your lover as they walked through the door in the evening, embracing them softly. Maybe you could have this life. It seemed completely out-of-touch, you couldn’t just leave. You knew that. However… something was stopping you.

Geto led you to his kitchen, pouring you a glass of water.

“Oh?” you took the glass from him with a small smile.

Geto pushed it into your hands, “Don’t tell me you’ve miraculously stopped being so dehydrated since we last talked.”

He had a point, to be fair.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You took a sip of the cool water, “I don’t think I’ve had pure water for around 48 hours…” you murmured absentmindedly, the rim of the glass pressed against your lower lip as you spoke, your breath fogging up the glass.

Geto grimaced, “Shouldn’t you be taking care of yourself? You’re not a teenager anymore.” he looked at you, clearly unimpressed, “I just hope your diet is faring better.”

“You’d think, right?” you watched his lips thin.

Geto muttered your name under his breath, “Seriously?”

“Been too busy.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

You hummed pensively, “Good question.”

The way Geto spoke your name this time was dull, his eyebrows furrowed. You took a sip of water.

“Fine, I’ll cook you something now,” he turned his back on you, “do you still like spicy food?”

You watched as he gathered ingredients and boiled a pot of water. It was a shy wash of comfort, being back in his presence like this. Lord knows how long it had been since someone last took care of you. The rising smell of fresh vegetables seemed almost foreign to you at this point. Whilst the noodles were cooking, Geto disappeared momentarily as he changed into a baggy t-shirt and trousers. There he was, he was more like the man you remembered. Less tired, perhaps, though maybe you had taken on that burden in exchange. You didn’t speak as you idly sipped on the water, feeling like a small child as he cooked the first proper meal that you would eat in ages. He hummed softly as he mixed the broth, it was something you hadn’t seen him do before. His voice was low, almost inaudible, as he repeated the melody of a song you knew he loved…

What was it…?

Geto’s humming turned to soft singing as he stirred the broth.

…Isn’t it good?

Norwegian wood…

Oh, now you remembered it.

…She asked me to stay,

And she asked me to sit anywhere…

You hadn’t heard that song for years, not since he left. Geto used to play music as he cooked, ambling around the kitchen as he hummed to himself. You remembered how Gojo used to tease him about his ‘old man’ music. You did too. Affectionately, of course. It seemed so long ago, how you’d all linger in the doorway, despite his questionable music taste, hoping to grab a bite of whatever he was cooking. You forgot how good of a cook he was, you were looking forward to your meal.

As he cooked, the songs changed, ranging from ones you remembered to what you guessed were newer additions. When Geto began dishing up the food, he gestured for you to sit in the living room. And so you did, settling onto a sofa as you eagerly anticipated your meal. After a moment, he sat down opposite you, placing the bowl on the coffee table in front of you with a gentle tap.

You felt the warmth of the steam below your chin as you picked the bowl up.

“None for yourself?” you asked before experimentally sipping the broth.

It was as good as you remembered, you gladly noted.

Geto shook his head, “I already ate.”

“Ah.” you took a mouthful of noodles, “Makes sense.”

You ate in what was mostly stiff silence, interrupted by a few passing comments about the food or your lives. Out of the corner or your eye, you noticed Geto watching you, head resting on his hand. His lips were tugged into a pensive frown, his gaze gentle yet lost, as if a whirlwind of thoughts happened to be storming in his mind. Had you been less tired, maybe you’d be doing the same. Right now, however, you were enjoying some warm, hearty home cooking. Overthinking could wait, you were hungry.

“What will you do when you’re done here?” Geto asked suddenly, voice raised.

You swallowed your mouthful, studying him carefully, “Huh?”

“You would be less overworked if you reported me, so will you?”

What kind of question was that?

“I’m not gonna do that,” you swirled the noodles through the broth absentmindedly, “Though I do have a question…”

Geto raised an eyebrow.

“Assuming I don’t report you, I’ll be neutral,” slowly, you sat back, watching him, “Taking that neutrality assumes the side of the oppressor, then who do I side with?”

He sighed, “Me. Probably. That’s what you think, right?”

“Is it?,” your fingers drummed against the armrest, noting his tone like a pinch of salt mixed into a pot of honey, “Does that make Gojo the oppressed?”

“Going by that logic, yes,” he replied, too easily.

You took another mouthful, suddenly grateful for the distraction of eating, “And I?”

“Shooting yourself in the foot,” Geto said after a pause, “to you.”

“To me?” you echoed quietly, “I guess.”

“Still going to protect me?” Geto’s lip twitched as he watched you, ever-so carefully.

“I guess.” you repeated. The last thing you needed from him was a rivalry, you were initially hoping for a truce of some sort but the void darkness in his eyes drained the last hope you had. “I’m not here for justice or to solve anything, I’m here for money, mostly.”

Geto snorted shortly, “No different to the rest, then.”

“I guess not.” you chose to ignore the sting behind his words.

The two of you settled into waves of rumbling quiet as you finished your food. Geto seemed somewhat more distracted as he began to hum again, almost inaudible to you this time. You missed this- him, even. Despite the obvious, he held some sort of familiarity to you that not many did- now that you savoured. The two of you came together as you tried to fit together again, pushing and pulling at each other like oil and water.

“Y’know,” you placed the bowl down, “you’re acting all strange.”

Geto grinned, thinly, “Am I?”

“You are,” you couldn’t help but match his expression, “you know it too.”

His smile widened like the Cheshire cat, “Do I?”

“You do.”

A second of silence lugged by like a three ton truck.

“I missed you, Geto.”

The rain knocked against the windows gently, beading like crystals in front of the puffs of smoky black clouds consuming the sky. The lack of sunlight meant the room became darker too, the dim light doing little to relieve the gloominess of the bad weather. Outside, a wind chime rattled with the gust of the temperamental wind. Inside, the soft tapping of Geto’s fingers against the wooden table paused, leaving the ticking of the clock to slice through the ambient howling and tapping of the weather against the walls. Inside of you, however, your heart and brain played a tentative game of tug of war. You just did something big.

Like, really fucking big.

Well… not really, but nobody had told that to Geto, evidently, suggested by the way he gasped at you almost comically, eyebrows arched.

“I also like you, so if you wouldn’t mind fishing out the astronomical log up your ass, I’d like to have a conversation with you about it.”

Geto coughed, “Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok.”

You looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“You didn’t even try to reach out to me.” he started, bluntly. “You didn’t try to find me. None of you did.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling very unprepared.

Geto continued, “I’m not even upset that you didn’t come with me, you just didn’t tell me.” you nodded, mind racing.

“I couldn’t.” you replied.

“And that’s the worst bit,” His lip twitched as he looked away, “I can’t even be mad at you for it. You were just protecting yourself-”

“And you.”

Geto blinked.

“I was being tracked.”

Geto’s lips parted slightly.

“Same reason Gojo and Shoko didn’t come to you,” you told him, “Gojo knows where you are, he has done since the day he found out you left.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Geto.”

“I mean,” Geto coughed, “It’s fine I guess, but-”

“Not for that,” you rushed, gaining an unimpressed look from the man opposite you, “I’m sorry that things happened this way. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you when you were spiralling. I’m sorry that there was nobody there for you when you left.” you took a deep breath, “I wasn’t the person you needed me to be, though I’d like to be. If you’ll let me.”

Geto studied you, pensively, “Does that mean you’re staying?”

You winced, “I’m not leaving you again.” you offered. You weren’t quite ready to admit to yourself that you were leaving home. Not yet, anyway. “I’m not doing any of the murdering though, you can do that.” you grimaced.

After a pause, Geto laughed.

“Ok.” His gaze was warmer than it had been, more open, “I’d love that.”

“Murder? Yeah I figured.” you muttered despite yourself.

Geto simply laughed harder. He really was a sight for sore eyes. The way he smiled, the way he looked away when he smiled, the way his hair fell over his face when he shook too much… God, you-

“I missed you too.”

Your mind went black.

Oh, you had told him, hadn’t you? And he felt the same way. Surely there was a logical conclusion to this.

You stood and moved to sit next to him. Then you leaned towards him, noticing the way he flushed at the proximity.

“Can I?” your hands hovered in front of you as you moved to touch him.

He nodded.

Your hands tentatively reached to cradle the sides of his face, thumbs gently rubbing circles into the curve of his jaw. Geto’s hands moved to cover yours as he watched you, wide eyed.

“Can we? I’ve wanted this for so long… Just- trust me, ok?” you whispered, stumbling over your words, your voice low. He nodded faintly before his eyes flashed with indescribable emotion.

“Ok.” Geto sighed, almost inaudibly to you.

You smiled, “Ok.”

As you withdrew your touch, your fingertips lingered on his skin, grazing the surface of his soft, olive cheeks. He tilted his head as you moved, chasing your warm palms.

“Can I kiss you… Suguru?”

You saw him stiffen as his name rolled off your tongue. Geto blinked at you before the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a grin. In place of a verbal response, he mimicked your earlier actions, taking your head into his palms. His touch was gentle, yet firm as he guided your face towards his. The feeling of Geto’s warm breath on your smiling lips made you buzz with anticipation, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering as you itched towards the sweet nectar of his mouth. He met you in the middle, fingers threading through your hair as he ever-so gently scratched your scalp with his blunt nails. You sighed, content, eyelashes fluttered close against your hot cheeks. It was a nostalgic kiss, a loving one, not the same heated one you shared so long ago. As your lips moved against one another’s, you were fixated on the lingering heat of his body, craving it like an addict for the mere seconds the two of you parted for air.

As soon as Geto urged your lips open with the swipe of his tongue, you knew you weren’t going back.

The desperately intimate movements of your tongues became hypnotic: rubbing, prodding, tangling. Your hands had slipped round his neck, your chest pressed against his torso. When you parted, you buried your head in the crook of his neck, lips pressed against the flushed skin as you panted. Above you, Geto gently stroked your hair, playing with the soft strands as you both gave yourselves time. You weren’t teenagers anymore, you couldn’t jump into something so intense without the knowledge that there was definitely an unwavering mutual understanding between the two of you. Slowly, you pulled away, looking up at him with wide eyes. The hand in your hair moved to brush the stray hairs away from your face, tucking them neatly behind your ear.

“Are you ok?” Geto murmured, leaning into you so that his lips hovered millimetres away from your cheek. The proximity, whilst lustful on the surface, carried more depth than you could comprehend. The weight of his hands, his lips, his voice, his words, were like bricks in your pockets, pulling you impossibly deeper into the encompassing aura of - just him. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was in particular that pulled you to him, realistically you knew it was a mixture of the history you shared and the absence you’d endured, but it was overwhelming and not enough all at once. Maybe it’d be a while until the trust you’d once shared would be recovered. Maybe it never would be. The consequences of your assumptions and his isolation could haunt you together. His radicalisation, your indecisiveness… maybe you were a lost cause, but the way hummed so soothingly as you nodded your affirmation doused your doubts immediately. He kissed you again, harsher this time, his grip on you tighter as he held you with desperation. You knew then, if you left now, you were never to be forgiven. But if you stayed... If you stayed, he’d never let you go.

Each touch rolled into another like the crashing of waves. Your shirt had been discarded by the fireplace a while ago, leaving Geto to revise the curves and contours of your torso with his left hand, fingers dipping into the hollows of your ribs and splaying over the small of your back. The whole time, he watched you, eyebrows pinched and mouth frowning in thought as he traced the tempestuous dark circles below your eyes with his right thumb. You were patient, meeting his distracted gaze as you idly played with his hair. This wasn’t the rushed goodbye you’d shared 6 years ago, this was a coronation of his love. Minutes passed and you were laid on the sofa, bare to his dark eyes. You had taken it upon yourself to step out of your underwear and to unclasp your bra. It was endearing, the way Geto obediently watched, eyes flicking between your breasts and cunt as you dropped the garments to the side. Amused, you cocked your head to the side, “Are you ok?”

Geto blinked at you, tugging at the hem of his shirt, “Yes,” he mumbled, looking to the side embarrassedly as he pulled his shirt over his head, “how did you want to do this?”

You hummed in thought. To be honest, you weren’t really that bothered, but it touched you that he asked. Though, you were aching and tired, so.. “As we are,” you replied, stifling a yawn, “please.”

He smiled at your apparent tiredness and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I’ll go slow but tell me if it’s too much, ok?”

You nodded.

“Good girl.”

Good girl?

Good. Girl.

You were fucking reeling.

After Geto wrestled his trousers and boxers off, he slid his hand between your thighs and pushed them apart, carefully. He leaned over you, using his own thighs to keep yours open as he kissed you again, messily, lazily. You sighed into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck as he moved his knee forward until it grazed your most sensitive parts. As Geto slipped his tongue into your mouth, you gasped at the sudden plethora of sensations- all of them far too much, yet far too good. You took your time as you grinded against his knee, moaning and muttering curses against his swollen lips. A few years ago, maybe you would’ve been embarrassed by the amount of time it took for you to feel ready to take him, but you didn’t want to rush this. It was as precious as the climax itself, and the pleasure of basking in his warmth and affection made you giddy and hot. You cracked an eye open as you parted for air to check on Geto, your hips not stopping their lethargic, yet desperate rocking against his knee. What you found wasn’t boredom or impatience, rather intense affection and peace in the stare of your lover. It was oddly sweet compared to the obscene way his knee glistened with your slick. Content, you closed your eyes again, letting Geto’s gentle lips on your chest and neck lull you into an orgasm that had your toes curling and back arching. He coaxed you down with soft encouragement and kisses as he moved his knee from your core.

You grinned as you looked at his awed expression, “Come on.” you teased. Geto rolled his eyes before adjusting your positions.

After a moment he settled, lowering himself to be closer to you. “I love you,” he whispered, peppering kisses over your face, “so, so much.”

A smile spread across your face before you could stop it, “I bet you say that to all of your victims.” you teased.

Geto groaned, “God, shut up.”

You laughed to yourself, breath catching as you felt him press against your entrance. The way he looked at you felt like lying in sunlight, and you forgot how tired and irritable you had been. This was all you had ever needed. Him- that was all.

It had been a while since you last slept with anyone, so the intrusion initially stung. However, a few kisses and gentle whispers later, he had eased himself in completely, and you were burning with anticipation. Geto looked at you carefully, visibly holding himself back.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” you adjusted yourself slightly, “m’fine.”

He grinned, kissing the column of your neck before he started moving, hands bracing you by your hips. Beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead and chest, causing his hair to stick to his face. You knew you were the same too, unable to ignore the way yours was sticking to your neck. Lazily, you pulled him further down onto you, wrapping your legs around his hips like a boa constrictor, causing him to penetrate you even deeper. The silence of the room was disrupted by the rhythmic groans and gasps the two of you released every time he rocked into you. You were so full, it felt like your nerves were on fire as he pushed against that spot inside of you that made you see heaven.

“Shit-” you whimpered as he sped up, biting into his shoulder as you gasped and moaned against the reddened skin.

Geto wasn’t faring much better as he uttered curses against your cheek, mixed within prayers and declarations of your beauty and significance.

“You’re so,” Thrust. “Fucking,” Thrust. “Pretty,” Thrust. “Like this-”

You could feel the hot puffs of air against your ear as he helplessly whined, his pace quickening despite himself.

“I’ve been,” Thrust. “Thinking about,” Thrust. “Doing this,” Thrust. “Since,” Thrust. “Last time-”

You couldn’t help it, the way his words drove you towards your peak like a wildfire.

“Please, Suguru,” you moaned, rocking against him as his cock hammered into you, “I’m so..”

“Close?” Geto grunted, “You’re close?”

“Fuck- yes!”

He swore under his breath.

Your back arched, chest pressing against his as his calloused fingers found your throbbing, ever-so sensitive clit.

You were so close, so, so, so close…

“Cum for me.”

With a scream, your orgasm washed over you, causing you to tremble with the intensity. Geto’s pace didn’t falter as you rode out the after effects. Well, not until he followed you closely after. Hips stuttering, you whined as you felt his cum drip fill you. He moaned loudly, eyebrows furrowed and abs flexed. You decided that it was one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

For a while, you panted against each other, Geto had collapsed on top of you and was now curled into you, head tucked beneath your chin. Absentmindedly, you stroked his air, sighing softly as he kissed your neck tenderly.

“Did I hurt you?” you felt his voice vibrate through where you were touching. Geto’s voice was low and rough- exhausted probably.

“Nah,” you replied easily, “tired though.”

He yawned, “Stay here then.” he muttered, sounding half asleep.

You laughed sardonically, “Is this part of your elite plan to stop me going back?”

Geto sat up, looking at you strangely, “You’re still thinking of going back?” He sounded more judgemental than hurt.

“Well,” you snorted, “probably not now.”

“Fucking hell,” Geto flopped down next to you, cuddling you again, “you scared me.”

You kissed the crown of his head apologetically, “Sorry, Suguru.”

The two of you laid on the sofa together in silence, communicating purely through loving touches and glances. Outside, you heard the rain become heavier on the windows, drowning out the buzz of the kitchen.

“I love you too,” you blurted, suddenly reminded of his abrupt confession, “by the way.”

Geto huffed, “I figured.”

“I’m staying here.” you added. A confirmation.

You felt him press a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“I figured that one too.”

You sighed, “I’ll need to go home and grab my stuff… and quit my job…” Geto snickered on top of you, “what a bore…”

“How long will that take?” he asked, voice rough.

“Like,” you wrinkled your nose, “three days, maybe.”

Geto groaned, “‘S long time.”

“Yeah,” you agreed irritably, “what a drag.”

He snorted, “I miss you already.”

“Tease.”

#in an era of naming fics after beatles songs #and you are powerless to stop me #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #angst #geto suguru #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk shoko #jjk fluff #geto x reader #smut #jjk smut #jjk geto x reader

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