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darshy · 23 hours

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pretty, pt. 2

some of the formatting on this is screwed, i know, it’s just a struggle adjusting things on a phone ):

n e way, enjoy!!

Megumi Fushiguro didn’t hate Satoru Gojo—at first. It was more of a simmering annoyance, something bubbling under his skin, threatening to slip out and crash. Nothing too dramatic. Tsumiki liked the man enough so it caused Megumi to tolerate him.

“After all, he saved us. Imagine where we’d be now without him!”

Before his sister said that, Megumi uttered his first curse word in relation to Gojo.

And, after living with the man for about two months, an anomaly occurred. Typically, Gojo would be absent for about a week. He’d say, “I’m just checking on something!” or “I’ve got a long mission—I’ll be back before you know it!”

Now, he’s been gone for a month.

Not that it really matters; the two siblings have a roof over their head and a surplus of food. It’s not their business to be in Gojo’s business.

It’s not Megumi’s business to be in Gojo’s business.

There’s a creak in the house at two AM. The only creak in this house is located in the kitchen, right in front of the refrigerator. Megumi only knows this because he was tasked—by Gojo—to find every creak in a building as a survival tactic. Just in case he was kidnapped.

Or, if he wanted to sneak some food in the middle of the night. Doesn’t really matter the situation.

Megumi blinks and attempts to wipe the sleep from his eyes. The sound was minor, could easily pass as a tree scratching a window, but Megumi’s gut is twisting. It couldn’t be Tsumiki, she never gets up at night, and it couldn’t be Gojo because he always arrives back in the mornings.

So who is it?

He waddles to his bedroom door, toes twitching against the cold, wood floors. He presses on the lock, satisfied to hear a gentle click. Then, he pushes the door open. It reveals a dark hallway with several other doors in its walls. Tsumiki is just a few doors down to the left and Gojo’s room is the last room on the right. Megumi’s stomach churns as he looks to Gojo’s door.

‘Ugh, it’s so ominous…’

He pushes through anyway. The floor is smooth against his feet as he slowly makes his way down the house. Just as he reaches the middle of the staircase leading downstairs, he hears a murmur. Alarm rings through his mind and his hands shake.

What should he do? Is this an intruder? Should he leave and take Tsumiki with him? Call Gojo? Fight? His technique isn’t very refined—Gojo has been so busy lately that he wasn’t any help—and he’s never actually fought before. He could call for 911 too…

What should he do?

The murmuring gets louder, more audible. Megumi strains to hear from his spot, frozen, too scared to go up but still too scared to go down.

”M’gon’ kill that—- —watch him choke— -“

Megumi leans closer by holding onto the handrail of the staircase while praying that it doesn’t create a creak of its own.

”..she’s…mine. Mine.

“—Megumi, ah, why are you awake?”

Megumi holds his breath as he stumbles down the stairs. He, surprisingly, doesn’t feel the harsh impact of the ground against his bones. Instead, there’s a feeling of warmth and the smell of a girl. Megumi pulls away immediately. He’s quick to mask his face of fear, and instead, replaces it with a glare and a sneer. “Gojo? Why are you here?”

”Am I not allowed in my own house?” His smile is slow going, just a bit wobbly, and rather empty-looking.

Megumi jerks back even further. “Are you drunk?”

“A question answered by three other questions,” Gojo says with the bark of a laugh. His breath smells weird. Obviously there’s the stench of alcohol but there’s something else there. Lingering.

Stinking.

”You smell,” Megumi mutters. Gojo blinks down at him. “You’re stinking up the air,” he says a bit louder while conscious of Tsumiki’s gentle snoring. Gojo grins again.

”And you’re drunk. Why are you drunk? I’ve never seen you drink.”

”Awh! Am I worrying you, Megumi-chan? But don’t worry—I’m an adult, so I can do adult things like this.” Megumi cringes at the honorific and cringes even more so at Gojo’s use of ‘adult.’

”There’s no kind of adult in you.”

”..okay! Time for bed!”

Gojo swipes up Megumi and quickly warps the two into the boy’s bedroom. Megumi’s stomach churns and he wants to puke.

But underneath all the smells of alcohol, there’s a twinge of floral essence. It smells like the shampoo and perfume that Tsumiki uses. It smells like a girl.

Megumi opens his mouth to ask another question but then Gojo is gone.

“Why were you awake last night?” Gojo asks as Megumi pours cereal into a bowl. Tsumiki blinks between the two of them, her mouth full.

”I was thirsty,” Megumi says lowly and glances up to his adopted father. Gojo has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is a bit messy.

“I’m glad I didn’t wake you.” His breath permeates the air; now the aroma of mint and toothpaste. His eyes twinkle and Megumi knows that he saw through the lie.

Change is a constant in life. It’s so much of a constant that Megumi is accustomed to it. A new school, a new bed, a new life…

It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate change, because he hates change.

He hates coming home to tiny little curses wriggling about. He hates the new craze in Gojo’s eyes. He hates how the hallways are dark at night. He hates the muffled noise coming from Gojo’s room.

He doesn’t necessarily mind the new smell that tangles with Gojo’s cologne.

He still hates change.

Megumi wakes up at five in the morning. His stomach is killing him. It’s twisting and knotting and spinning.

He moves to the hallway bathroom and is surprised to see the light on, shining beneath the door. Gojo is gone again and Tsumiki never wakes up at night.

”Tsumiki,” he calls gently, holding his stomach. She doesn’t reply.

”Tsumiki, please let me in.”

Silence.

”…Tsumiki?”

There’s a shift of a shadow, a disturbance to the light. Megumi recoils quickly and nearly smacks his head against the picture frame behind him. His stomach rolls.

He decides to use the bathroom downstairs, unnerved.

Tsumiki closes the front door behind them. The heat is nearly unbearable so the siblings scramble to remove their socks and shoes. Soon, they lay against the cool tile floors of the kitchen. Tsumiki is looking at Megumi and Megumi is looking at the ceiling.

”It’s hot,” she groans. Megumi nods in agreement. Both of their faces are flushed feverishly. Megumi wants to take a nap against the tiles so he slowly closes his eyes.

”Hey, wanna get some popsicles?”

Megumi opens his eyes. “Yeah.”

The two stand up. Just as Megumi reaches for his sandals, Tsumiki stops him, “I’ll go—I have the money.” For proof, she takes her pocket in hand and shakes it. Change jingles loudly.

”Huh?”

”I’m gonna go. By myself. Just tell me what you want.”

Megumi’s eyebrow twitches. “But I wanna go too.”

”Just tell me what you want.”

”…fine.” Megumi proceeds to babble about a specific ice cream before Tsumiki takes off. The last words to leave her lips are: “Don’t forget to lock the door!” He dutifully follows—turning three locks until they click—but is then faced by another obstacle: boredom. He doesn’t have homework assigned and he doesn’t really have any chores that needed to be done.

Megumi lays against the tiles again. He sweats, heating the cold surface up, so he slides to another section of the floor. He repeats this three times until there’s dirt and mini pebbles sticking to his cheeks. Tsumiki is not back yet.

The boy makes his way up the stairs and into his room. He can probably find something remotely interesting inside but—oh.

Megumi pauses. His hand that was raised to open the door falls to his side.

Gojo’s room is making noises. It’s scratching and crying, almost like a sound for help. Megumi eyes the door with a tilted head. He takes a step forward and then he hears it.

Pleading.

Megumi’s guts twist and his fingers flex. He’s struggling to breathe and he’s reminded of Tsumiki’s words of “In through your nose and out through your mouth.” It’s not enough.

He staggers backwards. The noises get that much louder with a few more scratches and a few more sobs. Megumi is torn between investigating and leaving.

He chooses to depart. He moves back to the top of the stairs, grasping the handrails so tight they’ll leave marks in his palms.

—but what if this is urgent?

Megumi blinks and squeezes the handrail again and doesn’t take any further steps.

What if they need help?

He turns back to the door. His mind is full of slush and he’s hot and sticky and he just wants Tsumiki to come back with a bag full of popsicles and ice creams.

What if Gojo is hiding something?

He places his hand on the doorknob. He’s shaking. The scratches have subsided but Megumi can clearly hear a sniffle every few seconds.

The knob doesn’t turn. The door is locked.

What is Gojo hiding?

Megumi squats. He presses his face against the floor and peers into the thin crack under Gojo’s door. A single eye and bloodied finger tips stare back at him.

He screams and screams and screams and runs to the bathroom to puke.

Who is Gojo hiding?

”Megumi! I’m back!” Tsumiki calls from the front door. “And guess who I found!” She doesn’t explicitly say who and, unfortunately, the response she receives is silence.

Then, there’s loud crying.

”Ah—Megumi!” Tsumiki hurries up the stairs with Gojo right behind her. The two find Megumi hunched over the toilet, heaving and hacking. Gojo approaches with open arms, a frown on his face.

“Megumi? What happened?”

Gojo barely grazes Megumi’s shoulder before he’s shoved away. Megumi’s glaring and sobbing. Tsumiki parts her mouth in shock—Gojo tenses up right beside her.

As Tsumiki leans in to coddle her brother, Gojo stands, watching, eyes wide and fists clenching.

What did he see?

Megumi gasps for air as he’s slammed into the fighting mattress. Gojo stands above him, a simple smile on his face. It doesn’t look real.

”I told you to bend your knees more,” Gojo says with a patronizing tone, “If you had, maybe you wouldn’t have fallen.”

That’s a lie. Gojo would have pushed him down anyway, it doesn’t matter how much force he would of had to use.

“I just… I want to learn my technique more,” Megumi says lowly. He claws at a rip in the mattress. Slowly, fluff crawls out of it. Gojo wipes it away with his foot. Megumi huffs.

”To master a technique, you need to learn basic fighting. How else did you think I became this great?” Gojo laughs obnoxiously and Megumi doesn’t feel a tug of his lips or a happy beat of his heart or anything. It’s all been stowed away since he discovered the person trapped in Gojo’s room. If that’s even a person.

Obviously, Megumi has attempted to open Gojo’s room for a while yet. The time windows have been small, unfortunately. Gojo has stayed home for a while now—the scheduling of his missions have gotten more and more bleak. As if the higher ups don’t need him. As if there are less and less curses.

That will never be true.

And besides, Megumi shouldn’t be so worried about it anyway. He could just be seeing things, or it’s some kind a curse that Gojo just wants to specifically torture. (And, even at that, Megumi’s not sure if the thing is being tortured. He’s not even sure as to what happens in that room.)

”—despite the challenges, which you’ll go through by the way, you’ll always come out on top because you have me, Megumi! Oh, and… Hey! Are you listening?”

”No,” Megumi replies before he spots a fist coming right for his forehead.

Megumi watches the two dogs zip around each other. They nip and preen and jump and yap. Their furs brush and mix and it’s pretty to look at.

Tsumiki watches too. She sits next to Megumi, playing in the grass with her toes. Leaves are falling and snow will be arriving soon, but Tsumiki is comfortable going around barefoot and wearing shorts and a tank top.

“Is it a lot of work?” she asks, “To make them play, I mean.”

Megumi shrugs. The dogs freeze for a second, a moment of stillness, but then they’re back to enjoying life.

“Well—at least it’s nice to see.”

Megumi agrees. He doesn’t say that aloud.

Gojo has a girlfriend. She smells a little like Tsumiki.

She’s sitting next to him at the table, hands in her lap, head swirled in his direction. Tsumiki admires her a lot. Megumi shifts uncomfortably in his seat as Gojo spoon feeds her. Under the blindfold, Megumi can imagine the heart eyes.

Later, the couple settle onto the couch, deciding to watch a movie. Tsumiki and Megumi are instructed to go to bed.

”Megumi…!” Tsumiki hisses when Megumi stops at the top of the stairs. “Gojo told us to go to sleep. I don’t want to be in trouble because you’re caught watching TV!”

”She’s wearing gloves, Tsumiki.”

”Huh?”

”She’s wearing gloves inside.”

”Well it’s fall and maybe she runs cold,” Tsumiki says, leaning against a nearby wall. “Or, maybe, she doesn’t have her nails done.” Tsumiki sighs dreamily. “She really is perfect.”

Megumi’s eyebrow ticks. “Ew.” He turns back to look down the staircase.

Gojo’s standing there, hands on his hips. His lips are puckered in a pouting way. “I said go to bed!!”

Tsumiki laughs.

Megumi’s up in the dead of night.

He makes his way to Gojo’s room with expectations of the sounds of creaking and moaning and crying.

There’s nothing—even as he crouches to peer under the crack of the door, whispering back, promising to help this time.

There’s nothing but faint scratch marks on the floor.

The girlfriend—you—has been around more often. Sometimes it’s babysitting while Gojo is gone (which, by the way, the siblings have never had a babysitter before, as per Gojo’s terrible parenting skills), but most of the time it’s while Gojo is around. The two of you stay in the bedroom for a majority of the visit, so Tsumiki clings to Megumi until you come out.

Currently, this is a babysitting scenario. Gojo’s been gone for two weeks and you’ve been doing your due diligence for the kids. Cooking, cleaning, and playing house seem to be your specialty.

”You’d be a great mom,” Tsumiki says. Megumi physically flinches and you pause your mindless surfing on the TV. You’re still wearing gloves.

“Oh, you think?” you ask rather awkwardly. Tsumiki nods.

”I’m just waiting for the day Gojo proposes.”

Megumi pops his mouth open, to tell Tsumiki to knock it off or something but then she stands up and announces that she will grab some snacks.

Megumi’s eyes immediately find yours after that. “I’m sorry. I…don’t know why she said that.” He feels miffed.

”It’s okay,” you smile gently. It appears that you want to say more but then stop. You curl into the side of the couch, on the complete opposite side of Megumi. You look almost sad, like something is missing in your eyes.

”You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Megumi says and you blink up at him. “I know that Gojo can be a bit pushy—“ he’s under exaggerating— “but he can’t boss you around or anything. You guys haven’t known each other for that long, right?”

Your lips part and just like before, you stop. It’s frustrating watching you pause and struggle by simply not saying what you want to say. Then it’s awkward when your eyes dart up to the clock, waiting for your cue to shout I should head home now!

And just as Megumi gives up, slinking into his side of the couch, face pressed against the armrest, you talk.

”Satoru told me what you guys have been through—so don’t think I’m upset about Tsumiki. I honestly thought it was kinda funny.” You grin a little and Megumi pouts back.

”She still shouldn’t have said that.”

”It’s whatever.” You shrug but still grin and there’s a sparkle in your eyes that is similar to Tsumiki’s. Oh. That’s what was missing in you. That’s probably what made Gojo fall for you.

You’re really nice looking.

Megumi’s face warms. He distracts himself by looking at your gloved hands. Like clockwork, you hide them in your lap, with an uncomfortable look on your face.

”I’ve, um, known Satoru my whole life,” you blurt. Megumi realizes that you don’t want him to question the gloves. “He would visit the US during his holidays and he would find me.”

Megumi leans in and curiously questions, “Find you?”

”Because he wanted me—us—to live here, in Japan, together,” you say and the sparkle leaves your eyes. You’re not so pretty anymore. “And guess what happened.”

You and Gojo must have broken up. The teacher has been disturbed lately. He screams and breaks everything in his sight and he almost appears to lose control. (Of course, this is while the kids are—supposedly—sleeping. He wouldn’t dare show unruly behavior to growing and easily-influenced children!)

Thankfully, he doesn’t lose control, less Megumi be six feet underground.

And Megumi isn’t sad. Your absence doesn’t make his heart heavy. Doesn’t make him want to cry and throw things too because that’s how Gojo does it and Megumi isn’t him. Megumi is simply Megumi. He doesn’t want you back like Gojo does. He’d just appreciate it if you visited once in a while. It would help the broken plates. It would help with the increased amount of curses.

“Sensei.”

”Sensei.”

”No Megumi! Sensei.” Gojo corrects.

”That’s what I’m saying!” Megumi groans. “It’s not like I’ve never said this before. I literally go to school, Gojo.”

”You mean sensei,” Gojo says with a sly smile. Megumi groans again.

He’s growing up. It feels slow, like each day is dragging by. It doesn’t help that Tsumiki has fallen ill, even to the point of bedriddenness. But it’s okay. Because Megumi is growing and he’s going to fix her.

He’s going to fix everything.

“Geto Suguru.” Megumi looks up to his soon-to-be teacher. “You knew him?”

Gojo shifts uncomfortably. “He was my best friend! And now I have to kill him.”

”Oh,” Megumi utters because there’s nothing else to say. He looks back down to the sheet. He squints at a near familiar name. Shoko Ieiri. Megumi taps the small picture of her. Gojo grins.

”Another friend. I don’t have to kill her.”

”Oh,” he utters again, because there’s still nothing to say.

Just before school starts, just before Gojo officially becomes Megumi’s teacher, you’re back. Standing in a pretty outfit, beaming at the two from inside Gojo’s home. Megumi stiffens and attempts to meet Gojo’s eyes. His attempts are ignored in favor of you, however.

The two make it inside. They’re sweating, at least Megumi is, from the relentless practice. And he wants to ask what you’re doing here. Why you’ve shown up out of the blue in a pretty outfit, smelling a bit like Tsumiki and not wearing gloves at all.

He’s going to ask but then you place food in front of the two and Megumi can’t say no to this.

So he eats.

There’s comfortable conversation for you and Gojo. It’s weird not having Tsumiki sitting next to him, whispering, prying. She would be waiting for you to finish. She’d wait and wait and wait.

Megumi keeps eating. His mind feels like it’s running a little slow.

”Of course I would, Satoru… Why do you think I’m here?” You say while smiling. It looks weird.

”For me.” Gojo’s smiling too. His is easier to decode than yours. It’s a simple cypher: right corner of his mouth is a bit down and his front teeth are gnawing into the flesh. He’s not upset but maybe a bit annoyed at… something. Megumi’s not so sure. The teacher always carries a look like that when Megumi misplaces his foot. Or when the teen is up at night, creeping into the halls.

Just as Megumi’s head droops, his forehead hovering right above the countertop, he hears you gasp. Blearily, he looks to his two elders. Gojo’s hand is clutched around a wrist you’re attempting to tug back. The teacher’s face is bright red with his glasses slipping down his nose sloppily. “Satoru…!” you whine and pull back.

It’s terrifying how quickly Gojo leaps across the counter to get to you.

Megumi closes his eyes.

Itadori is a mess. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t even be alive.

He shouldn’t be in Megumi’s dorm room, but he is, and he’s poking and prodding around. He says things like: “Woah Fushiguro!! What is this?!” and it’s a book about psychology. When Itadori began to open Megumi’s drawers, a pillow was thrown to his head.

“Ahhh Fushiguro, your room is so clean… Where’s all the posters?” Itadori asks. He’s peering over Megumi’s shoulder. Math homework peer right back at him.

”What posters?” Megumi attempts to shrug the other away. Itadori stays and gestures around the room. “You know, like, really hot girls in bikinis! And big butts! Like Jennifer Lawrence.”

Megumi’s face turns red. “Hell no!” And he finally swats Itadori away.

Megumi resumes his work for a few minutes longer before looking over to Itadori. He’s, again, snooping around. Megumi’s eyebrow ticks. “Put that down.” Itadori’s holding a picture frame before flipping it to green eyes. ”Who is this? Your mom or something?”

Soon-to-be. Right. Gojo and you are engaged. Have been for about a month. The wedding will happen in about three weeks from now.

Feigning boredom, Megumi looks back to his papers. “Gojo-sensei hasn’t told you about her yet? I figured he would blab about her every second he could,” he mutters. Itadori appears a bit skittish after hearing that.

”I mean, he talks about his fiancée…”

”Yeah.”

”Oh… OH!” Itadori jumps up and Megumi can practically see the cogwheels turning in his head. “So she will be your mom! Wow, okay!” Itadori turns back to the picture frame. Suddenly, a mouth manifests out of Itadori’s cheek and laughs.

”I’m sure she’ll make a great meal!”

Megumi barely suppresses the punch heading for Itadori’s face.

A runaway bride is what you are. Fleeing the night before the wedding.

Gojo has held a stifling quiet for the past 32 hours. His eyes are dull. Megumi wants to reach out and offer some sort of comfort. Instead, he says simply, “It’s probably just some misunderstanding.”

Gojo doesn’t look up. Doesn’t react, doesn’t move, and Megumi would think that he were dead if not for the gentle rising and falling of his chest.

”I’m tired of her running away,” Gojo says after a pregnant pause. “I know what she wants and she knows what I want. It’s not like I’m going to kill her.”

Megumi’s stomach rolls and it reminds him of being a kid, sneaking around and trying to get into Gojo’s room because he thinks someone’s trapped in there. It’s silly, looking back on it, but his stomach is rolling all the same again.

He makes his way back to the school. He dreams of his warm bed and warm shower and warm clothes. He’s tired of the fighting. He’s tired of Tsumiki not waking up and nagging him. He’s tired of the looks of his friends, each exhausted and on the brink of death after each mission. He’s tired of it all.

As Megumi passes a local store, he smells something like Tsumiki. Floral-ish, like flowers, like how most girls smell. It smells nice and comforting and like you.

He turns to the store. His heart seems to stop in his chest and his mouth dries.

You notice him back. Your eyes lock with wide green ones.

Megumi is right in front of you in half a second. His arms are stretched wide, a hugging gesture, but you don’t take it. You shuffle, holding a wrinkled bag in your hands. Megumi drops his arms.

”Hi,” he whispers. He doesn’t know if you’re real or if it’s just the hysteria creeping into him. He wants to touch and feel, maybe poke and prod while he’s at it. You look like you, but are you really? You smell like you, but is this fake lying?

”Hi Megumi,” you whisper back and Megumi hugs you. You’re stiff (and you shouldn’t be) but you manage to wrap your arms around his middle. Your hair tickles his mouth and he just hugs you closer.

”I missed you so much,” he says into the top of your head. He pauses for a moment to inhale. You tense up like you’re waiting for bad news—and for good reason. Gojo-sensei has been in his quiet, anger mood for far too long. Megumi can’t wait for it to end.

“We want you back home.” He inhales your scent again. Sweet. Comforting. Home.

”I know,” you say into his jacket. (Despair.)

#x reader #female reader #24 #yandere jjk #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru

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