4:47AM.

“Wahhh!” 

“Nooooo!” 

“Bwahhhhhh!” 

“I don’t care, she was mine first!!!” 

“WAHHH!” 

“AHHHHHHH-” 

“Satoru Gojo,” you snap and glare at your husband, who’s burying his face in the pillow to muffle his laughter. Your seven month-old son also begins laughing. It’s so cute that you almost forget that the two were screaming at each other just seconds ago. 

Satoru lifts his head up to grin handsomely at you, feigning innocence. “Yes, wifey?” 

“Why on earth are you screaming with your son at eight o’clock in the morning?” You ask. 

“Because,” he whines, pointing an accusing finger at your baby boy, who had begun cooing adorably for your attention. “He won’t let me kiss you! Watch what happens.” To demonstrate, Satoru gently leans in, only to be stopped when the baby uses his tiny hands to push against his face with a loud whine. You stifle a laugh when he pouts, squinting his eyes at your son. “Listen, just because you’re laying here, doesn’t mean that you can just keep me from giving my wife a little smooch.” 

Your son doesn’t budge. “Bwah!” 

“Okay, and?!” Satoru exclaims with a tilt of his head.

You roll your eyes. “I cannot believe you’re actually arguing with him.” 

“Kid’s got a mouth on him.” 

“How do you even know what he said– You know what? Don’t answer that. Anyway, he’s your kid. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t sassy.” 

Satoru gasps dramatically. “I am not sassy.” Next to him, your son matches his pout with a hmph, and since he was born with Satoru’s hair and eye color, he basically looked like a tiny version of him. “See?” He asks, gesturing to his mini. “Even he agrees with me!” 

“Sure he does,” you say, then turn your attention back to your phone, scrolling through a grocery delivery app so you can start ordering things for the week 

“And back to you,” you hear Satoru continue with your son, “I just want to kiss her cheek, and you’re just– hey, no sticking out your tongue at me.” The baby babbles, and Satoru scoffs. “No, I’m not cryin’. What’re you talking about?” 

You laugh quietly. If this was how it was now, you couldn’t wait to see what it’s going to be like in the future.

"...Are you listening?"

Curly snaps out of his trance, turning to meet Anya's gaze. He chuckled for a brief moment, but it was humorless. "Yeah, yeah, damn. I'm so sorry." His blue eyes flickered down to the table between them. "Couldn't sleep again," he admitted. He shakes his head and looks up at her again. "But I passed the psych eval?"

Anya pursed her lips together. "Well, you gave the same answers as last time," she stated, remembering the details of the captain's result. "I do wish you'd open up a little more, Captain. These evaluations aren't just about you."

"As long as I'm fit to fly in your eyes, Anya," Curly says smoothly, a smile coming to cross his face. His tone was teasing, and he felt a little lighter when Anya smiled back at him. Curly had noticed the medic being more... sluggish these past few days, so it was nice to see that she's still staying strong.

"Oh, stop it." Anya huffs. "Guess that means I only have one more eval left to do. Y/N is probably answering hers right now."

"Oh, speaking of Y/N..." Curly started, his expression turning a little more bashful. "How... how is she? Is she doing alright? It's been awhile since we've talked to each other."

Anya raises a brow but doesn't comment on Curly's evident worry. They always seemed so close, after all. "She's okay. She didn't lash out today, so I think that's a start on her anger management."

Curly nodded, feeling the tension within his body leave. "Ah, I'll take your word for it. And for the last guy... let me guess, Jimmy?"

Anya's smile falters at the mere mention of the man's name. She was silent for a moment before finally speaking. "He acts as if I do these things for fun. Then I have to make a report with things like... 'I have found myself sexually excited at the sight of cartoon horses'."

It's an unusual answer, and it made the medic very uncomfortable. But Curly laughs, finding the situation more lightly than it's supposed to be. "Hah! Well, I could take it off your hands," he offered.

Anya lit up. "Really?"

"I've known him a long time. He won't try any bullshit with me," the captain stated matter-of-factly.

"I suppose you are the captain," replied Anya, her voice still a little hesitant.

"I am the captain."

The smile returns to Anya's face once she realizes that she won't have to face Jimmy. "Thank you! What a relief. Oh, before I forget, Swansea asked me to give you this." She takes out a yellow piece of paper and hands it to Curly.

He accepts it and reads what was written. In Swansea's handwriting, it read, THEY CAN'T EXPECT ME TO PERFORM MIRACLES!!!

"Not sure what it means, but... sounds like fun!" Anya chirped, her demeanor returning to normal. "Good luck, Captain!"

Curly gives her one last smile before leaving the medical room.

🫧

Curly stops in his tracks for a moment; he swore he captured the smallest glimpse of H/C locks turning a corner. He stares a little longer at said corner, debating whether to catch up with you or talk to Swansea and Jimmy. As much as he would very much rather prefer the former, he was the captain and had responsibilities he needed to take.

Not that you weren't a part of his responsibility or anything; you were just as important as the rest. But why does his chest ache slightly whenever you look at him with nothing but disinterested eyes? You didn't gaze at him that way back then; what changed?

Quickly shaking that thought off, Curly continued advancing towards the utility room. He was a grown man; sure, he had a huge crush on you since high school and still do until today, but that doesn't mean he needs to act like a schoolboy over it.

Get it together, Curly. You're the captain, act like it!

He reaches the hallway and sees Jimmy standing right outside. The door to the utility room was open, and the sounds of Swansea's yelling ended up outside. "And Pony Express says they don't provide on-board entertainment." Jimmy chuckled, a hint of a smirk on his face.

"Feels like there's always something broken in that room," remarked Curly, briefly glancing inside before looking back. "Tulpar's starting to show her age."

"Passed inspection, right? Shouldn't be an issue," claimed Jimmy.

"Mhm. Plus, they added Daisuke last minute. Didn't account that there'd be six of us now." Curly brings up a hand to run it through his blond locks. "I really should've made a bigger stink about that."

Curly enters the utility room and walks towards Swansea and Daisuke, the latter currently being trapped by the ship's oddly hard foam. "Well, I can see the issue," he says, trying not to crack a smile.

"The kid was brought on just to make me suffer!" Swansea chastised, his face contorted into a scowl and had his arms crossed. "Intern my ass..."

Daisuke frowned. "I was just trying to fix the vent! How did that trigger the emergency foam?!"

Swansea turned to glare at him. "Because yer talented in all the wrong ways!" The older man looks back at Curly. "I woulda dealt with this, but only you can unlock the axe case. Every goddamn thing has to go through you."

Curly nodded. "I'll handle it. Hang in there, Daisuke," he reassured before turning around and walking towards the axe case. He finds his code scanner latched onto his belt and revealed the secret code. Curly proceeds to enter the exact numbers, successfully opening the case and taking out the axe.

He went back to the struggling Daisuke with the axe in his hands. Curly was careful not to accidentally strike the young man as he cleared off the hard foam. After a few seconds, Daisuke could finally move his legs and was freed from the emergency foam.

"Yeowch! Oof. Strong stuff, huh?" Daisuke joked, exuding a small grin and trying to lighten the mood of his mistake.

But Swansea was not amused. "Get it through your goddamn skull! That vent is strictly off limits! Fully fuckin' collapsed inside! You looking to get impaled, electrocuted, and cooked?!" He berated with a hint of exasperation.

Even though the senior member was displaying anger, he was worried. Curly can see it, but he knows Swansea would rather take a bullet to the head than to admit anything like that.

"You can't fit in there to fix it, right?" Daisuke suddenly said.

Cue awkward silence.

"So I can totally handle it-"

"Captain." Swansea looks directly into Curly's eyes. "Give me the axe."

"Swansea, this could've damaged the pods. You can't let something like this happen again." Curly sighed, still holding onto the axe in his hands.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. Loud and clear."

The blond captain smiled, nodding. "Keep the axe until all of this is clean, yeah?"

Curly turned and left the mechanic and intern to clean up the mess. As he walks, he gets stopped by Jimmy. He looked like he was watching the whole thing go down from the doorway.

"I take it Anya diagnosed you with being sane then?" asked Jimmy, looking gruff as always. Something's weighing him down, considering his rather unclean appearance.

"Just off center, but it's what keeps me on my toes." A playful grin appears on Curly's face. "I said I'd do yours. I want to hear all about those cartoon horses. Is that something you were born with or a recent develop-"

"Alright, alright. Shut up." Jimmy scoffs, his eyebrows furrowing. "Let's go to the cockpit." The man didn't wait for his friend to reply, as he's already storming down the hallway.

Curly rolls his eyes. "I gotta do something first; wait for me!" He yelled out. He turns his heel and jogs down the other way.

It didn't take long for him to find the small laundry room of the ship. Just as expected, you were in front of one of the washing machines, hands on your hips as you continuously kicked the poor machine. "Damn it. Piece of junk, work!" you grumbled out.

Curly clears his throat, leaning against the doorway. "Uh, hey," he was already cringing at himself at the tone he used.

You turn your head. The already tired expression you had seemingly hardened at the sight of Curly. "It's you," you said plainly. "What is it?"

Curly presses his lips together, forming a thin line. He notices the coldness in your voice right away. "I... I just wanted to talk. Y'know, since it's been some time."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, and look back down at the broken washing machine. "There's nothing to talk about."

Curly frowned, pulling himself away from the doorway. He takes one cautious step inside before taking a few more and ending up just a few meters away from you. "Look, he's a good guy—"

"Like hell he is. This isn't high school anymore, Curly. There's no detention or juvenile center to lock him up in," you finally face Curly, your expression serious. "Jimmy is a dangerous man. You of all people should know that. He can hurt us, and I won't be surprised if he does."

Curly flinches slightly at the blunt words directed towards his best friend. As much as he would like those words to be nothing more than false claims, he knew deep down that all of it was true.

"He's your friend too, Y/N. Have a little faith, he's getting better." Curly pressed on, giving you a wavering smile. "Jimmy promised to change for your sake, after all. You know he never breaks his promises."

"You don't know just how many he had broken in the past." You just shake your head. "Actions speak louder than words. I'll believe he's getting better when I see the progress. But I swear, if he's the reason we end up dead before we reach our destination, I won't forgive you."

Curly knew that there wasn't anything he could say to lower your guard down, even by just a little bit. So he nods his head in understanding. "...Okay, I'll get going now."

He turns, but before he leaves, he turns his head to look back at you. "Oh, and one last thing. Please... take care of yourself. Wouldn't want you passing out by overworking yourself with the ship's mess."

You blink, a little surprised, but quickly regain your stoic facade back. "...Fine."

With that said, Curly left. You turn back to the washing machine and groan when it still isn't working. "Damn it."

🫧

Some time later.

"For the last time, I'm not wearing that stupid party hat."

"C'moonnnn, Y/N. You gotta wear one, birthday rules and stuff!" Daisuke continues, practically shoving the colorful cardboard cone in your face. "It's the Captain's special day, and we gotta make it count!"

You grumbled a string of foreign profanities under your breath, glaring at the younger male. He was so smiling that it makes you physically recoil back. You tried to refuse once more, already turning your back to continue your job when Daisuke suddenly lunged at you.

Your back hits the floor, and you let out a groan. "What the hell?!"

"Sorry, Y/N, but this is the only way I can think of to get you to wear it!" claimed Daisuke. He had a determined look on his face as he forcibly put on the birthday hat on your head.

Anya and Swansea, who were both watching from the sides, couldn't help but smile at the sight. They found it quite amusing in their own way, and it was actually really nice to see you with anything but a scowl.

The cone was now securely on top of your head, Daisuke making sure to tie the knot extra tight so you wouldn't take it off when he pulls away. "There! Now you look a lot friendlier. I'm sure Captain will be swooning and having hearts in his eyes when he takes a look at you!" he joked, but you didn't laugh.

"Shut it! He doesn't like me that way," you scoffed, pushing him off lightly and standing up. You give a sharp glance towards the other two. "Why the hell are you two looking at me like that?"

"Hm? Nothin', nothin'," Swansea says, but even he couldn't suppress a slight chuckle.

"You look very... cute in that hat." Anya smiles, her gaze filled with both amusement and something else that you can't make out of.

"No? No, I don't. Shut up."

Anya finds your reaction even more endearing. "Sure you aren't."

"Alright, ladies. Stop flirtin'. Captain'll be here any second now, and we're just standing around like idiots," stated Swansea, sounding gruff as ever.

"What're you all doing?" Another voice joined in.

You all turned around to see Jimmy, who had just entered from the other doorway.

"We're planning a surprise birthday party for the Captain!" Exclaimed Daisuke, already bringing up another party cone. "You should totally join too, Jimmy!"

"Yeah, no," Jimny rejected bluntly.

Daisuke and Swansea exchange glances, the latter nodding his head. That same mischievous smirk on Daisuke's face returned as he faced Jimmy once more.

Jimmy senses that something is up. "Hold on, what are you doing? Why are you coming near me?" But it was too late; the intern had already lunged at him.

"AGH!"

🫧

Shit.

Was all that Curly is thinking about right now. He was already imagining the faces of the rest. Shock, anger, and disbelief. Hell, even if only he gets paid at the end, it didn't feel right taking the money.

Sighing, he gets out of the captain's seat and exits the cockpit. His footsteps echo in the metal corridors, each step weighing heavier than the last. He crumpled up the letter from Pony Express, stuffing it into his pocket.

He traverses through the hallways until he finally reaches the door to the main lobby. With another, heavier sigh, he lets his presence known as the automatic doors open.

Only to be left surprised when party horns started blaring as soon as he entered.

"Surprise!"

"Suuurpriiiise! Look at your face!"

"Heheh. Gotcha!"

"...Cheers."

"Surprise."

Curly blinks owlishly, taken aback for a moment. "Uh. Wow." A fuzzy feeling forms from within his chest, and he can't help but crack a smile. "...What"s the, uh, occasion?" He asked.

"We only get one communal birthday party per trip, right?" stated Anya. "So we can have it whenever."

Jimmy sighs. "Only one person can really be surprise birthday-ed per trip. We did Swansea last haul, remember?"

Daisuke turned to Jimmy, shock written all over his face. "No way! I can't believe I missed that!"

But the man ignores him. "You were next on the list. So, congratulations," Jimmy continued. He brings up a hand to scratch his neck. "Hate to say it though, your duties have to extend to your own birthday party."

"You're the only one with the clearance to make the cake," chimed in Anya. "The recipe is there by the machine. Hop to it, Captain!"

With that, the group dispersed throughout the main lobby, all smiling and completely unaware of the devastating news that was kept in Curly's pocket. The Captain decides not to reveal it yet, wanting to enjoy the moment.

His eyes landed on you, and a smile crossed his face. "Hey," he greeted. "How'd you manage to get roped into this? I was genuinely thinking that you'd hide in your quarters until this celebration died down like last time."

You can't help but roll your eyes once more, not making any effort to hide your annoyance. "That's because we didn't have Daisuke last time. Trust me, I would've locked myself in my quarters if not for that damn ray of sunshine."

Curly chuckled at the accurate depiction of their new intern. "Yeah, kid's livelier than a puppy. Say, you wanna help me bake this cake?"

You think about the offer for a moment before shrugging and then nodding. "Sure."

With your acceptance, the both of you made your way towards the kitchen on the side. Curly uses his code scanner, and you two begin making the cake, with you standing by the food dispenser and Curly using the mixing thing.

From the sidelines, Jimmy watches you both. He could feel the smallest bit of envy from inside him. He was already in a bad mood earlier, and getting dragged into this birthday surprise was the last thing he wanted to do. But now seeing you with Curly and actually looking like you were enjoying yourself a little, it made his blood boil.

After awhile, the group settles down on the table in the middle of the room. A small and simple tune of the happy birthday song plays after the final cake is made.

Curly brings it over to the table and sets it down before you and him take your spots.

Everyone now looks at Curly, with Daisuke being the first one to speak. "You gotta make a speech!"

"Can't argue with that," said Jimmy, who conceals his displeasure well.

"Speech! Speech! Speech!" Chanted Daisuke.

"Go on!" Added Anya, joining in.

Curly hesitated, his smile faltering. "I..."

Jimmy narrows his eyes. "...Hey. What's wrong?"

You also begin to notice something with Curly. "You got that look that tells me something's up. What is it?"

The blond man took a deep breath and began revealing the news to all of you.

...

...

...

"That's all it said on the report from management," Curly concluded, pressing his lips together and forming a thin line. He can already feel the atmosphere change significantly after the revelation.

Pony Express was going under, and no one would get paid except for him. "We will receive the paycheck for this delivery. I don't know any more than that."

"Pony Express finally kicking the bucket, huh." Swansea's words were laced with unfiltered disdain. "What a joke. And we're the punchline."

Anya's mood had changed drastically, panic and worry consuming her eyes. "I don't have any savings," she says. "T-They can't just do this, right...?"

Swansea turns his head towards her. "Pony Express was one of the last manned crew freighter companies. The writing's been on the wall for a long time."

"When did they tell you?" Jimmy asked, his voice cutting through the air.

"Earlier this week," Curly says. "I was instructed to wait until we're closer to the haul destination," he felt the guilt starting to consume him, even though he couldn't control any of this. "But I can't keep something like this from you all."

You clicked your tongue, your hand going up to massage your temple. "You're too damn nice for your own good, Curly. It's hard to tell if you're really Captain or not when you do shit like this."

But before Curly could even respond, Jimmy spoke first. His voice held the same amount of disappointment as yours, tinged with a hint of anger. "So I guess you got what you wanted. Without the guilt."

"Jim..." A heavy sigh escapes from the captain's mouth. "If I had known..."

But the man doesn't let him continue. "I can go back to my, how'd you put it? Struggle of a life?"

"Anya never got into medical school because she's... well, let's be real. And how many employment years Swansea got left in him? Daisuke will be fine; mommy and daddy have him covered. So there's that at least. But you."

Jimmy scoffed. "Headed for bigger and better, right?"

"I'm just... I'm just working on my life being a place I don't have to fucking escape!" Curly snapped. "That's what I was trying to tell you, nothing mor-"

Jimmy slams his hand on the table and yells, "We're the ones you're trying to escape!"

"Leave the dirt behind now that your boots are clean," he continued.

"That's not what I meant," replied Curly.

"It is what you meant," Jimmy sneered. "You just couldn't frame it to yourself in a way that kept you as a hero. Abandon the crew but remain the model captain."

Regrettably, Curly didn't have anything to say. He was conflicted.

"Unbelievable." Huffed Swansea.

Anya buries her face in the palm of her hands. "What... what am I supposed to do?"

Daisuke held his tongue, remaining silent. He didn't know what exactly was going on, but it was clear that this wasn't turning into a happy occasion.

You glared at Curly, who in turn flinched upon immediately noticing it. "I don't even know what to say."

Jimmy leaned back against his seat, crossing his arms. "Let's have some fucking cake, hmm? Props to the twilight crew of Tulpar. Props to our Captain and his new prospects." The words were mocking and venomous.

Curly didn't say any more, his hands moving almost robotically as he reached for the knife. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, making his skin crawl. Slowly, the blade reaches the cream and moves down.

The cake cutting was odd. Instead of making pieces, he cuts it in half. Literally. The awkward silence suffocated everyone.

Happy Birthday, Captain.

“say ‘i’m the man!’”

eren’s voice carries down the hall, boisterous and loud as it easily reaches every corner of your small one bedroom apartment.

you furrow your brows and glance in the general direction of the sound, but decide to ignore it and continue on with breakfast—gathering a dollop of strawberry jam on your knife before spreading it onto a piece of toast.

you’d rather not know what the two of them are up to, eren and your two year old son that is. he’s supposed to be getting the kid ready for the day, but whether or not that’s actually happening is a different story.

“i’m da man!” his little voice repeats the sentence—not quite as powerful as his dad, but still loud enough to find your ears.

“louder!” eren shouts, and you immediately drop what you’re doing to head towards them.

your slippers scuff against the floor as you shuffle down the hall, following the source of sound until it leads you just outside the bathroom door. you nudge it with your foot, causing it to creep open and reveal the duo—your son, who’s standing on the counter, and eren, who—at the very least, is holding onto him.

“hi,” eren grins, prompting his mini me to do the same. you note the atrocious man bun, well, little man bun your son is sporting—hair haphazardly pulled together at the back of his head.

eren gestures to him, pride flooding his features as he mumbles, “he’s the man.”

“oh yeah?” a smile tugs at your own lips—every ounce of authority you waltzed over here with threatening to vanish into thin air as you look at your little family. nevertheless, someone has to enforce the rules around here. “well, tell the man that if he doesn’t keep it down, he’s not getting any chocolate milk with his breakfast.”

the two of them exchange a glance, an identical look of concern—real and genuine from your son, dramatic and over the top from your fiancé.

“should we go eat?” eren whispers to him, naively expecting him to follow in his footsteps again.

“yeah!” your son yells, excitement filling his eyes at the mention of his all time favourite beverage. he sets a new record every time he chugs a glass, and always gets a kick out of the little moustache he gets afterwards—loving that he looks like dad.

“buddy,” eren laughs as he lightly cups a hand over the toddler’s mouth. “shhh, quiet okay? you heard the boss, no chocolate milk if you yell.”

your son puts his hand over his own mouth and nods his head, prompting eren to lift him onto the floor and send him scurrying off into the kitchen—little feet padding against the hardwood.

“what the hell?” you say, keeping your voice low to ensure your baby doesn’t hear. “it’s 8 o’clock in the morning, why are you shouting?”

“hey, i’m instilling confidence in him,” he pouts, having heard you mention something along those lines once or twice—about how important it is for him to be proud of who he is.

“eren,” you sigh, because you know he means well—he wants nothing but the absolute best for your son too, which is why he more or less lets him do as he pleases.

he encourages him to jump around and dance to his favourite songs, and doesn’t care that he gets marker all over his face when he colours. he’ll give him bear paws before dinner, and hold his hand as the two of them run and giggle down the halls of your apartment building, because they’re just so happy to come home and see you after a trip to the grocery store.

eren lets your kid be a kid, and while that might put a scowl on the face of those around you, all that matters is that your son is always smiling.

“i know, just,” you pause, searching for the right words—the ones that won’t paint you as the bad cop you feel you’re being. though, you look into eren’s eyes, and see nothing but the purest love and adoration overflowing from his pupils, and you know—he thinks you’re doing perfect. “just, wait until after ten at least, okay? that old couple next door already has us on their shit list.”

“course, ‘m sorry baby,” he hums—cupping your cheek with a grin that’s a little too smug and out of place to be there right now. “but you know, you got us on that list, not him.”

“me?” you tilt your head, racking your brain for a time in which you might’ve pissed them off. did you forget to hold the door open? shit.

“mhmm,” he hums, moving his hand to the back of your head to hold you flush against him, and you look adorable—in the reflection of the mirror, with your little thinking face on and your cheek squished against him. he almost feels guilty.

“what did i—”

“nghhh eren, that feels soooo good,” he moans, quiet and sultry—changing the pitch of his voice slightly in an attempt to mimic your own.

“eren!” you gasp, planting your palms flat on his chest to push him away. “shut up, you’re the only reason i sound like that.”

“damn right,” he grins, pulling you right back in for a messy kiss—hands sneaking underneath your shirt and travelling up your—

crash.

“oh no,” you mumble, peeling yourself away from him once more. your son—who’s been alone and suspiciously quiet for the last five minutes, is now doing god knows what in the kitchen. “go check on your satan spawn, would you?”

“hey,” he frowns, swiftly backing out of the room and towards the noise, but not without putting on a quick smile to clarify, “our satan spawn.”

you roll your eyes, but still feel the corners of your lips tug upwards. eren is far from perfect, but he’s pretty good at keeping a smile on your face too.

Based off of THIS ADORABLE VIDEO OMG—

As soon as you walk into your daughter’s room, the first thing you notice is her empty bed. The Bluey blankets that were once warmly protecting her are now thrown to the floor haphazardly, and her Bingo plushie is long forgotten about. An immediate feeling of worry washes over you, so the first place you go is your and your husband’s shared bedroom.

“My love, where is—“

Your words cut off as soon as you spot two heads of fluffy white hair in your bed, a feeling of relief washing over you; at least you know where your daughter is now…

“Toru,” you lean over the bed, careful not to wake your little angle who’s sleeping cuddled against her dad’s chest, “Toru wake up.”

Satoru’s crystal eyes shoot open as soon as he feels your hand brush against the arm he’s using to hold your daughter against his chest. “Hm?” He hums sleepily, looking around as if he’d just taken a century long nap.

“My love,” you say, trying not to giggle, “we need to put her to bed.”

It takes a moment for Satoru to process your words, but once he does, a frown immediately appears on his face. “Nooo, we’re sleeping,” he mumbles, lying his head back down on his pillow.

“Baby, she needs to sleep in her own bed, remember?”

“Who made that rule?”

“We did,” you can’t help but laugh.

Satoru’s sleepy eyes look between you and the sleeping toddler in his arms, his expression resembling that of a man making the hardest decision he’s ever had to make.

“But she looks so precious…let her sleep,” he begs you.

You cock your head to the side, exhaling a huff of amusement. “I know she does, but she needs to sleep in her own—“

“Her own bed, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he meekly waves you off, “but she’s safe here. I’ll put her back tomorrow…”

“Toru, you’re not even making sense anymore,” you sigh, slipping under the covers to cuddle up to them, “just go to sleep, dork.”

THE ADVENTURES OF KUNAFAMILY

this is an optional guide to read if you would like to know more about certain family dynamics referenced in the kunafamily fics! read more sukuna & papakuna fics under the @sukuna tag <3

how did you and sukuna meet? + ( bonus abridged version )

sukuna during your pregnancy

babykuna during her first months

babykuna's first birthday

babykuna's first day of kindergarten

babykuna gets her first pet ( aka the story of mr. pickles the maine coon )

showing babykuna memories of you and sukuna

babykuna asks how was she ‘made’

babykuna asking for a sibling ( aka the story of baby the tabby cat )

Clan leader!Gojo who makes you sit at the head table at every meeting n’ every time the Elders ask him to make a decision, he kicks his feet and asks you.

Clan leader!Gojo who barely pays attention to anything said, instead too busy admiring his gorgeous wife. Kissing her knuckles, and - if you let him - slide his hand over your thigh, uuuuup past your silky robes.

Clan leader!Gojo who stares down any Elder that brings up the issue of an heir, who might even seat you on his lap and tell you to get yourself off on his high if they want him to “fuck ya pregnant so bad.”

THE DAD WHO STEPPED UP! jjk smau

in which you're not home to send your kid off to their dads house for the weekend so your husband has to.

gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso, and takuma

content: sfw, slightly suggestive (mentions of sex), multi-character, they're all step pappies :0 and do NOT like your ex.

a/n: requests open! don't forget to like and reblog (･ω･´)

author’s notes: as soon as i saw that satoru didn’t like this usami dude i knew i had to write this.

satoru had a growing suspicion that the usami guy — whom he couldn’t stand by the way — had a crush on you.

it’s so obvious to satoru, his six eyes burn with the assurance; ever since you and usami have been assigned to remaster the archives and check all of the reports since you two were the closest to higher-ups. at first, of course, when gojo heard that you won’t be taking all of the work onto yourself he was very much glad, good for you, but when usami appeared — that sleazy smirk and lazy look on face, the white haired man got kinda tense.

usami acted so different around you it made satoru go crazy whenever he noticed.

the way the tall brunette shamelessly leaned over you by the table as he read into the paper you showed him. the way he sat with his bony knee touching yours and his shoulder bumped into you whenever he passed you, for which he gave you an apologetic smile and patted your arm for too long.

satoru absolutely hated the way usami’s eyes softened whenever he looked at you and the way his voice turned hushed as if you’d be bothered in any way from his usual indifferent tone.

and it felt like that the fucking asshole knew how much it pissed satoru off and continued doing it so shamelessly and calmly just because the higher-ups wouldn’t replace him no matter what. ‘too much of an important asset’ his ass.

his eyes transforming into cold stones laced with triumph over him as he locked his gaze with satoru’s from across the room and whispered something into your ear. or when his thin lips twisted in the ugliest fucking smirk satoru’s ever seen — he truly hated the man.

don’t get him wrong: satoru trusted you wholeheartedly, he just didn’t trust that lapdog. he even complained about it to you, which you dismiss because usami is a great asset when it comes to the history of the whole jujutsu society and the tokyo branch where all of you are settled, he is a walking encyclopaedia and he knows a lot more than everyone because he basically acts like a teacher’s pet to higher-ups.

“i haaate that dude. he used to be mean to ijichi and he wants to steal my girl now? ridiculous!” which was kind of true — usami and ijichu were from the same year, but the latter got scrutinised a lot for choosing the job of an auxiliary manager instead of a sorcerer, needless to say.

you chuckled, not looking away from your papers as you stroked the back of his head, fingers scratching on his undercut, “look at you, defending ijichi when you bully him almost every day. i’m very proud.”

“hey! i’m always just joking around. usami is the real bully here.”

“right.” you nodded dismissively, shutting the manila folder in your hand as you stood up from your chair. satoru patiently waited as you tidied up the desk in the archive room, leaning against the other one, right when the door opened with an ugly squeak and usami came in, holding two identical cups of coffee.

“brought us some coffee— oh.” his eyes scanned satoru’s figure with a disappointed look, not giving him any verbal acknowledgement, before focusing on you, questioning, “i thought you were going to stay with me for the night?”

the choice of words is deliberate, spiteful with the purpose of egging satoru; which did piss him off a little bit, his hand squeezing around your waist in an attempt to ground himself. his mouth was still free though, so he didn’t hold back as his other hand grabbed one of the cups from usami’s hand, taking a big gulp from it and forcing his face not to twist in disgust from it’s taste(it just didn’t have any sugar).

he shrugged his shoulders, faux apology on his face as he smiled down at the brunette, “sorry, man, she’s busy with me.”

the tone of his voice didn’t leave any room for further inquiry so satoru just pulled you in for a quick kiss and guided you to the exit, turning his head to check on usami’s face one last time. the pure disappointment and resentment that covered his features was enough to make satoru smirk, which usami noticed, disdain adding into his expression.

“your coffee’s shit by the way.” satoru said right after letting you out of the room and then followed suit, not interested in usami’s reaction anymore.

“his coffee is good though. it’s from colombia.” you snickered, arm wrapping around satoru’s waist as you both walked through the hallway.

“no drink is good without sugar in it.” he threw the cup into the nearest thrash can and pulled you into his side, finally calm and satisfied with himself again.

Does anybody else not imagine themselves when they read ‘x reader’ fics or is that just me?

Like you imagine your oc instead of yourself

Satoru Gojo has a lot of love in his heart and he refuses to keep it all inside. His preferred method of showing exactly how much love he has to offer? Physical touch.

Even before he knew he loved you, your personal space had quickly become his personal space.

“Say, Gojo, you ever heard of personal space?” You asked one day as satoru pressed his leg up against yours while sitting on the bleachers. The two of you were watching Shoko and Suguru “spar”, though really it was just them doing the least amount of work possible - enough to keep Yaga satisfied but no where near enough for it to actually have any effect on their improvement (“you can only get better with real life experience!” Suguru would say leaning back on his chair slightly. “And i’ve got better things to do than fight this loser anyway.” Shoko nodded to herself , ignoring Suguru and Satoru’s eye rolls.)

“It’s Toru to you, and i’ve heard of it. Why do you ask?” He asked leaning closer to your face making you roll your eyes, “oh, you know, it’s just that usually people like to stay within their own personal space. Not in mine.” You thwacked his forehead causing him to whine dramatically before he threw an arm around your shoulders. “But I like your personal space better than mine, Sweets! Not my fault you have your own gravitational pull and stuff.” He grinned as he watched your cheeks bloom a lovely shade of red.

That being said if he sees anyone invading your personal space he will not hold back. “Hey, you mind backing out of our personal space?” he’d tell anyone who he deemed to be far too close to you before wrapping an arm around you and practically absorbing you into his side.

You’d only roll your eyes, heat filling your cheeks as you pinched his side. “Yeowch!” he’d exclaim dramatically but still never backing away from you.

Satoru Gojo also needs a lot of reassurance. He’s not picky on how he receives it as long as he receives it. He needs it. And if he felt he wasn’t getting enough back you’d definitely be hearing about it.

“I can’t believe we went from being madly in love to being just roommates.” he sighed one day, shaking head before placing the back of his hand over his forehead; imitating a damsel in distress. He was leaning against the bathroom door watching from his peripheral as you rolled your eyes, not moving away from in front of the bathroom mirror and into his arms like he had hoped.

“Neither can I… Because that hasn’t happened.” you sighed finishing your skin care before flicking the bathroom light off and squeezing past him, right under the arm that he had placed specifically to block you from leaving.

His pout deepened as he followed behind you like a lost puppy.

“Hasn’t?! As in it could?!” He whined reaching his arm towards you but narrowly missing the back of your shirt (you had sped up at the last second, already having had anticipated his behavior).

“Gojo.”

“That doesn’t work anymore, I’m not sure if you’re talking about me or you now, so you’ll have to be more specific about who you’re talking about!” he scoffed, finally grabbing onto your body before you were able to flop down onto your bed. You let out a whine, giving up and simply allowing him to maneuver your body however he pleased.

Taking your flimsy body as permission, he turned you around to face him, he wrapped his arms tightly around your torso before biting your cheek softly, coaxing a soft hiss from you.

“That’s exactly my point, Toru. We’re married not roommates… Does that not show how madly in love with you I am?” You couldn’t help but coo at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiled widely at you, pursing his lips before tightening his already brutal grip on your body.

“Dunno… You’ve only kissed me like two times today. Tax getting high on them or what up? I can pay my fees, ya know?” You rolled your eyes again but a small smile pulled at the corners of your lips. You had definitely kissed him way over two times but you knew that when he got this way there was no other way to soothe him than by giving him what he wants.

“They’ll run you about 450… Each. Sure you got it like that?”

“What about the husband discount?”

“Make it 650.”

“Ugh! You’re an evil little gremlin, aren’t you?”

To nobody’s surprise he got his kisses. Several of them and in quick succession resulting in your face being covered in an abhorrent amount of his spit (his full face smooches are always so unnecessarily messy!) Family discount be damned, he’d pay whatever tariff necessary for your love (not that he ever had to!)