How Would You Write Wriothesley Needing Reassurance?

how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?

x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+ﾟ

in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.

a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration. 

But it is true. 

Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork. 

Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left. 

You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you. 

Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again. 

Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.

He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises. 

“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.

“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers. 

A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”

“Nothing!”

Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.

“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”

“But-”

“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”

Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.

Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space. 

“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.” 

“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you. 

“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.

“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”

“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”

He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.

(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)

“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.

You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.

(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)

There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.

“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?” 

“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”

For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.

“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”

There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.

“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”

Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible. 

How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

twitter links | jjk (2)

part one is linked here if interested! afab for all links ! disclaimer im poc, but only could find these videos and i hope thats not much of a problem :(. warnings . rough link in one of each characters i believe, warnings for that. rest is vanilla, slapping.

geto

link [ bouncing on getos cock ]

link [ geto takes care of you ]

link [ geto and gojo have their way with you ]

link [you and geto give gojo a show from the shower ]

toji

link [ toji takes you home after scouting you at the club]

link [ rough with toji ]

link [ making a mess of choso ]

link [ toji fucks you dumb ]

kento

link [ how kento eats you out after a fight]

link [ sucking kento off while he's in a meeting ]

link [ kento fucking you after a long day at work ]

link [ kento fucks you good when hes mad ]

gojo

link [ he makes you forget about your ex ]

link [ satoru makes you do all the work ]

link [ satoru couldn't make it to the house ]

link [ he makes you see stars ]

© SAELESTIA 2023. do not repost, translate, or duplicate any of my works here or any other websites.

👉👈 can we have more nsfw twitter links please 🙏

— ୨୧₊˚ 𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

over 50 links featuring gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, choso, enjoy

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

Gojo making you ride him

Gojo inviting you, the shy girl, to his dorm

Gojo breeding you

Gojo fucking you from the back

Gojo taking you for a ride in his car

Your step bro Gojo got distracted while teaching you to play the piano

Gojo fucking you in an elevator

How Gojo fucks you when he’s mad

The reason Gojo invested in a self driving car

Gojo can’t stop messily breeding you full

Gojo eating you out in a new position

Fucking your son’s best friend Gojo

Gojo overstimulating you with his fingers

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

Geto spanking you on camera

Geto loves your ass

Geto giving you backshots

Geto fucking you in his car before he brings you home to your parents

Your fuck buddy Geto is careful to not cum in you

Older bf Geto fingering you

Geto taking his anger out on you

Geto making you suck him off

How older bf Geto eats you out

Geto recording him fingering you in the mirror

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Dilf! Nanami’s cock is too big to fit, so you improvise

Nanami fucking you

Riding Nanami’s face

Fucking professor Nanami

Nanami eating you out

Nanami playing with his baby girl’s pussy

Nanami breeding your cunny full

Nanami making you squirt through your panties

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji fingering you in the store

Toji making you get a back tattoo for when he fucks you from behind

Toji’s way of stopping you from squirming

Fucking your best friend’s dad Toji

Dilf! Toji fucking you in the ass so your boyfriend doesn’t notice

Your dad’s best friend touching you

Car sex with older bf Toji

A compilation of all the videos Toji’s recorded fucking you

Toji overstimulating you with a vibrator

Toji fucking you in handcuffs

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

Sukuna putting a leash round your neck

Sukuna fucking you, his little brother’s best friend

A walk with your boyfriend Sukuna turns into him cumming on your face

Sukuna making you watch porn and telling you to recreate it

Riding Sukuna

Sukuna fucking you slow

Riding dad’s best friend Sukuna

Sukuna fucking and breeding you hard

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

Giving Choso a handjob

Choso licking your clit after cumming in you

Choso eating you out

Choso asking his step sis to pull down her panties for him

Giving Choso a thigh job

Choso cumming from rubbing his clothed dick on your clothed ass

Giving Choso a foot job

Choso asks to try something new

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only rly hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look crosses over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt. almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air, and you breathe it in. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere. “— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

but that was a long time ago, now.

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on the top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

after a moment’s pause, he shakes his head. cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with devotion.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, a soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“.. you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, and bite back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go back.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips tapping against his exposed skin.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he hums. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

my first and last. . . ⇢ satoru gojo

˗ˏˋsummary: satoru thinks he was always meant to meet you, but you entered his life at such a precarious time he often wonders if that’s the reason he clings to you the way he does 

˗ˏˋwc: 6.5k (🧍‍♀️ it got longer every time i edited it)

˗ˏˋcontains: gn!reader x gojo, angst (with a happy ending), very gojo centric it's essentially a character study, implied satosugu, mentions of canon character injuries/deaths, whatever the opposite of a meet-cute is, confessions, first kiss, hurt/comfort, gojo has a mild panic attack but i promise the description is suuper brief

˗ˏˋa/n: the stsg shipper in me jumped out a little bit with this one 🫣 we love our bi king gojo 🩷💜💙 i also wrote him to be neurodivergent coded in some parts out of pure self indulgence heh.. anyway happy birthday to our blue eyed princess <3

since day one satoru’s life has been a series of puzzles and winding paths that he navigates with ease. donning the title of the strongest is no simple task, and it’s not unfounded at that. he’s simply always been the strongest, with never a moment of respite. but there was a time where he used to share that title — where he used to share the burden of the weight of the world on his shoulders.

his relationship with suguru geto was… complicated. he surely didn’t like him at first, finding the latter to be self-righteous to a fault. yet he stuck to his side, always in his general vicinity. but like a moth to a flame — he flew too close and he got burned.

you could attribute it to his low empathy, or a subtle inability to pick up on social cues… or maybe just the mere fact that he was 17 years old and a stubborn brat. but he can’t recall ever noticing when things started to go downhill. sure, he still knows when they did, knows all too well what the catalyst of this downwards spiral was — the hand that pulled the plug on the drain so that the water could spin around the stopper as it slipped underneath and down into the plumbing, completely out of his control.

but the more he thinks about it, the more slippery it gets. because even now, 10 years later, he can’t wrap his head around why he never noticed what suguru was going through. why he had so poorly assumed that the both of them being the strongest meant that suguru would be able to cope with everything in the same exact ways that he did. why he assumed it meant suguru was fine, even though he knew for a fact that he wasn’t — neither of them were.

but that was the nature of their relationship with each other. made complicated with silent agreements and conversations never had, words never spoken, and satoru often wonders — had he said something, had he swallowed his pride and just communicated with suguru… could things have been different?

surely not, right?

nevertheless, satoru never noticed until it was too late. or if he did, he thought nothing of it at the time. it was subtle things like wondering why suguru seemed thinner — have you lost weight, suguru? — or why the dark circles under his eyes got deeper as the seasons changed — suguru, did you stay up all night reading again? — or why the distinct amount of solo missions they were both sent on only drove the wedge between them further and further. but satoru was managing as best as he could, and he turned out just fine he thinks… so why didn’t suguru?

but really, try as he might, it was hopeless the very moment they got back from okinawa. the very moment he dropped his infinity after he’d been tiredly using his technique nonstop for days, allowing himself a mere second to let his guard down before the force of a katana had torn through his abdomen from behind him. the very moment that the same man who had stabbed him had killed him, and then killed the star plasma vessel they were supposed to protect, and then nearly killed suguru.

it was hopeless the very moment satoru came back from the dead, completely enlightened with a new sense of his techniques, a new perspective on his own life and his prowess. the very moment suguru stopped saying they were the strongest together, and started to just refer to satoru solely as thee strongest. full stop.

when you share the weight of the world with someone else, it suddenly feels a lot heavier when they decide to let it go without warning you in advance. but then again, the signs were always there — the sweat on his brows, wobbling knees threatening to buckle as he struggled to hold it up. satoru selfishly brushed aside the warning signs until suguru grew so tired, that even if satoru had tried a little harder to coax him back in, the fatigue in suguru’s muscles was too strong to even bother lifting anything back up onto his shoulders.

so all he could do was watch. watch as suguru turned around and left, disappearing into the crowd of people walking all around them. people who were probably having the most boring, average day of their lives. oh, how he so craved the mundanity, the simple things of a human life that were always too out of reach for a god.

his breaths were shallow and coming out in quick puffs, hands clenched tightly at his sides and twitching with the urge to use his technique, to take out suguru like he was supposed to. because that would have meaning. but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger on the first person he’d ever felt like he truly loved, in a sense. he allowed himself to hold someone so close to his heart because he thought he didn’t have to worry about him leaving… up until he actually did.

his heart was a jigsaw puzzle, and a piece of it went missing the day suguru left. what he hadn’t expected to happen next, was for you to enter his life with a piece of an entirely different puzzle, one that was still somehow a perfect fit.

not at first, at least.

“what the—“ the frustrated cry slipped past your lips, a groan of disdain when satoru had turned around to leave the scene of the worst day of his life, only to crash into you as you tried to maneuver around him, making you spill your drink all over your shirt. the drink itself was a frozen one, sweet like strawberry and sour like the green apple you mixed into it at the slushie machine from the gas station down the block. you’d have really enjoyed drinking the whole thing, had it not spilled all over you instead. “watch where you’re going, asshole!”

he blinked at you, dumbfounded and stammering as he tried to mumble an apology. but really, he wasn’t all that sorry. he was so numb to just about anything right now, he couldn’t find it in him to feel sympathy for a total stranger when his heart was just so broken the way it was.

you scoffed and looked up at him then, and your eyes widened a little in surprise when you met his. a pair of blue eyes, the brightest blue you’d ever seen, brighter than the sky on a clear and sunny day. eyes that held more in them than every ocean on the planet, with waves crashing around the irises and threatening to spill over his lash lines, glossing his eyes in a way that made him look ethereal. he was crying, but why did he look so, so…

“c’mon, let’s keep walking,” your friend’s voice cut through your thoughts, tugging lightly on your elbow as she shot a narrowed look at satoru before redirecting her attention back to you. “we’re gonna be late to catch the bus.”

you tore your gaze away from satoru, wordlessly moving past him as your friend dragged you along, walking in the same direction suguru had gone just minutes prior. satoru was still a little caught off guard, blinking rapidly before wiping his eyes with his sleeve and walking off.

it wasn’t the most ideal meeting, but on such an unforgettable day, it was burned into his memory nonetheless.

so when he saw you again a few weeks later, by yourself this time, sitting at the window of a crepe cafe he frequented, he felt his heart rate pick up a little bit. maybe it was just the reminder of the day suguru left him, or maybe it was the way the afternoon sun was shining across the window, casting a dispersion of colors from the spectrum of light onto your face. a bright white light shining through a glass prism and refracting, revealing a rainbow on the other side.

he lingered outside for a moment, clammy hands stuffed in his pockets as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze flitting between the door to the cafe and the small table you were sat on. maybe he could just pretend you weren’t there at all, just walk in and order his usual and then leave, just like he’d intended. but the moment he stepped inside, the bell jingling above his head announcing his arrival, and you looked up at him, he cracked under the pressure. with a tightlipped expression he abruptly spun on his heel and left the shop, confusing yourself and other patrons alike.

he walked about 20 feet away from the shop before exhaling the breath he’d been holding. and then he thought, what the fuck am i doing? so he turned around once again, swallowing down his pride and the potential for humiliation as he stepped inside the cafe once more, this time avoiding your curious gaze entirely.

you thought you recognized him for a moment. there aren’t many lanky, freakishly tall boys with snowy white hair like his. what was throwing you in for a loop was the glasses he adorned — a black pair of lenses with round frames. when he walked in the sun you couldn’t make out his eyes behind them at all, it made you wonder if you could even see anything through them.

he stepped up to the counter and placed his order, and while he waited he couldn’t help it, he had to take a peek. it was this natural curiosity bubbling up in his chest, he just had to satiate it before it boiled over and got out of control. he turned his head a little to the side, subtly glancing over his shoulder at you seated in the corner. you were looking down at your hands, but the flush that reached your ears told him you’d almost been caught staring at him.

he pursed his lips in thought, humming to himself as he turned back around when they called his name at the counter. he wordlessly grabbed his crepe, nodding curtly at the worker before he started to walk back towards the entrance. but just before he walked through the door, something stopped him. like an invisible force field cast by the only person in the building that caught his attention, and from that point he felt drawn to you, all of a sudden. he chewed the inside of his cheek, turning and facing your general direction. you were caught this time — your head swiftly turned the other way, just barely making eye contact with him, but he’d already seen the way your hair moved when you turned your head. how it fell over your eyes for a moment, and how your hands twitched on the table with the urge to move it out of the way, only you tried to seem entirely nonchalant at the moment so you held back. how cute, he thought.

he lingered at the doorway, and then he took a step forward. and another. and then he was standing beside the small table, tilting his head curiously when you refused to acknowledge his existence. he seemed much taller up close, especially since you were sitting down. it was almost intimidating.

“yo,” he waved a hand in front of your face, beckoning your attention. you blinked in surprise, finally moving your own hand up to swipe the bangs out of your eyes as you looked at him. those pesky strands of hair that you hate. you’re trying to grow it out, so you can’t do much about it right now. “you were staring at me?” he says this like a question, like he doesn’t know how else to address the obvious elephant in the room between you two. you gulped then, looking around the room as you thought of an excuse, but you didn’t find one.

“i was.” you conceded, nodding a little awkwardly. he already caught you so there’s no point in lying, you think to yourself.

“…why?”

“your glasses.”

“what about my glasses?”

“they’re funny.”

he snorts, unsure if he was offended or amused. “what’s so funny about ‘em? they’re just glasses.”

you giggled then, a soft sound that trickled into his ears like sprinkles on a cupcake, colorful and of intrigue for satoru’s own sweet tooth. “i dunno, i just think it’s a little silly that you’re wearing sunglasses indoors.”

he hums, the corners of his lips almost threatening to curl up into a smile. almost. “i have sensitive eyes.”

“right,” you giggled again, a sound he was quickly learning tasted as sweet as the dessert in his hands. “can you even see anything through them when you’re standing inside? they look so dark.”

you’d be surprised what i can see, is what he almost replies with. but what leaves his mouth instead was uncharacteristic, if he’s being entirely honest with himself. “wanna see for yourself?”

you hesitated for a moment, but then nodded slowly. you were curious, after all. he put down the crepe in his hands, setting it down near your clasped hands on the table. he lifted his hands up to his frames, and for a moment he almost stopped himself. why am i doing this again? but he removed them anyway, extending his hands forward to hand them to you. your eyes followed the frames the whole time, reaching forward to grab them, your fingers brushing against his. but when you looked up at him again, you saw a familiar stark blue ocean in his eyes, and—

oh.

“you’re the guy who knocked over my slushie.” you stated bluntly, carefully starting to retract your hand again. satoru’s shoulders dropped a little bit, and he had half a mind to apologize, but he just extended his hand further and waved it in front of you, urging you to take the glasses and try them out. he’s not sure where this surge of insistence is coming from, but it seems to rub off on you, since you narrow your eyes a little curiously before gingerly accepting the lenses.

you bring them up to your eyes, holding them at a reasonable distance, and you’re surprised to see— well, nothing. just pitch black. you gape a little bit, muttering something under your breath. he almost expects you to freak out, maybe even awkwardly return his glasses and excuse yourself to leave the establishment. but you do none of that. you handed his glasses back with a snort of a laugh, a confused yet oddly amused grin crawling onto your face. “you must have really sensitive eyes, then. now i feel bad for calling you an asshole.” you mumbled, and he can’t stop the way his own smile mirrors yours. your reaction was even sweeter than he’d anticipated.

“it was an asshole move, to be fair.” he mutters a little quietly, putting the glasses back on his face and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. he picks up his crepe again, glancing at the door as he considers leaving. but then he looks back down at you and you have this look in your eyes that he can’t quite place. and suddenly he feels drawn to you again.

“maybe one of these days i could buy you another one to make up for it?”

that’s how it began. you entering his life and crawling inside of a hole in his heart right as it emptied out. a vacancy that was available against his own will, but you filled it out anyway. exchanging phone numbers and having short but meaningful conversations through the flip phone you despised texting on (it was 2007 after all, technology was not quite at it’s peak), but you put up with it anyway, because you found that talking to him quickly became a part of your day you looked forward to.

he thought the same of you, but it took him a while to admit that to himself. shoko had made a throwaway comment one day, saying he was just coping by befriending you as quickly as he did. she meant nothing bad of it, merely jesting, but it weighed heavy on his heart. he felt guilty, felt like he was replacing suguru somehow. no one could replace suguru, even if he doesn’t quite hold the same place in his heart anymore, he’d always be there.

suguru leaving was the first time satoru felt scared in his life. that’s a feeling one could only invoke in him after burrowing themselves so deep in his skin that the heartbreak of going separate ways tore him up from the inside out. that’s something he could never get over; he never will get over it.

but you, you were something else entirely. the feelings of guilt quickly changed into fluttery, warm feelings when he heard the ringtone he’d specifically set for you. it turned into rapidly beating hearts when you’d both met up after school, satoru going out of his way to walk down your route with you even though he lived on school grounds. it turned into waiting in anticipation whenever he sent you a text, biting his lip nervously as he stared at the tiny phone screen, somehow trying to will it to load your response faster. staying up at night talking over the phone, pacing around his dorm or looking out the balcony as he did, a huge grin on his face that he couldn’t wipe off for at least half an hour after you’d both gone to bed.

you never replaced suguru. but he often thinks to himself about it, pictures a life where fate was kinder to him. a world where he has both you and suguru around, at the same time. suguru would’ve loved you, he thinks. the two most important people in his life, a consistent reminder that it’s okay to love and be loved back. a warm spring after a harsh, bitter winter.

a year or two goes by, you both graduate high school, and to him your life seems so… normal, while his life is anything but. for a while he doesn’t tell you, doesn’t tell you about his job as a jujutsu sorcerer. a title he was born into, as a user of both limitless and six eyes — a combination the likes of which the Gojo clan hasn’t seen for hundreds of years. a ticking time bomb.

it was innate for him, embedded in his dna. his fate was sealed the moment he opened his eyes. he had no choice at all in how he got to live his life, it was all outlined for him the moment he was born. december 7th, 1989 — a momentous day for the jujutsu world and the world of curses. he was standing for something before he even learned how to walk.

what he did have a say in was your involvement in it. he always thought the lesser you knew the better, so he kept it to himself. when he got busier you would ask more questions, trying to figure out what kind of job he had, but he never answered them honestly. it drove you both apart a little for a few years, and it broke his heart, but he thought it was better this way. it was easier to keep you out of the hot mess that was his world as the jujutsu sorcerer gojo, safer to keep you at arms length so that your precious life didn’t get tangled in the ugliest parts of his.

and yet he also wanted nothing more than to hold you closer, to nestle you in the cavity of his heart and never let go of you. because to you, he wasn’t the strongest jujutsu sorcerer — the six eyes and limitless user with the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. to you, he was just… satoru.

but he couldn’t hold you closer to his heart without risking the semblance of normalcy in your life, one that was so fragile, he would never forgive himself if it shattered. if the glass shards cut into the palms of his hands, his own blood slipping through his fingers while he desperately tried to piece it back together.

worst of all, he thinks you would never forgive him, for some reason. he can’t explain why he thinks this. it’s all an emotional and irrational mess in his brain that he would rather ignore instead of trying to untangle the cords.

maybe it’s the 17 year old in him, the one that lost his best friend — his one and only — in the very same world he wants to keep you out of.

suguru geto was the first person he ever cared so deeply about, and the first person who left him. you’re the only other person he’s cared for so much since then, and right now you’re the last person he wants to lose. his first and last, representing completely different parts of satoru’s soul that he clings to like a lifeline. if he lost you too he’d be inconsolable.

and that thought was what drove him to his limit when suguru died. you’re taken by complete surprise when you hear a frantic banging on your door. it’s the night of december 24th, you were just about ready to go to bed early in preparation for christmas the next morning when you opened the door to see satoru, completely disheveled and in a cold sweat. he was always careful about the parts of himself that he showed you, always made sure he didn’t worry you too much by being so emotionally vulnerable around you. but right now, after the night he just had, he can’t do it anymore. he can’t always be the strongest.

“can we talk?” he had asked you the moment he met your eyes. he was breathless, overwrought — at his wit’s end. you’ve never seen him like this — at least, not since that fated day in september 2007 when you both first met.

when you invited him in he stumbled past you, his breathing erratic and his usual bright blue eyes were currently a dull gray, they were almost lifeless. the light he often held in them was dimming with the weight of his emotions and he needs to say something to you, he needs you. he can’t keep himself together anymore.

“satoru, come,” you gently grabbed his elbow, a touch unobstructed by his infinity that he so desperately craved. “sit, and take deep breaths for me, okay?”

he wasn’t aware that his hands were trembling until you grabbed them, and he squeezed your hands so tightly it almost hurt. the moment you sat down next to him on the couch he dipped his head forward and dropped it on your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck and closing his eyes, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he tried not to sob. a man so much bigger than you — in height namely — was shrinking into your side and you hadn’t the slightest idea what could have possibly brought him down like this.

“what’s wrong, hun?” you asked him sweetly, and your voice was so soothing to his soul he just couldn’t take it anymore. he whimpered weakly, his lips trembling as he pulled his head back to look in your eyes.

“i’ve been lying to you.” he blurts out, making your eyes widen in surprise. “i- i know it sounds bad, fuck— you don’t even know what it is i’m going to say to you, you have no idea how badly—“ he cuts himself off when his voice cracks, clamping his mouth shut and swallowing the lump in his throat before continuing. “just… just promise me. promise me you won’t freak out. just let me say everything i need to say first and then you can react, but please— please understand why i did this.”

you’re not sure how to respond to this at first, his words are loaded with something you don’t recognize. and there’s this perceptible fear in his eyes that concerns you more than anything else. you inhale deeply for a moment, studying the trembling in his expression, and then you nodded slowly. you’re not sure why, but you trust him. “okay… i promise.”

and so it goes. he unloads everything — the world of jujutsu and curses, his upbringing, his one and only. he tells you about his teenage years, his near death experience (or well, more like an actual death experience, but he holds back on those specific details for now — figures he doesn’t need to tell you just yet how reverse cursed techniques work when you’re already getting an information overload), how he lost suguru. he tells you about suguru’s cult, the war suguru declared on jujutsu society, on him. he tells you about his students and how he fought to protect them, tells you about the night parade of a 100 demons, and finally, finally — he tells you how he had to ultimately kill his best friend. just hours prior to seeing you.

“…wow.” was all you had to respond with. what else could you even say in that moment?

it takes a good 15 minutes afterwards for the air between you both to settle again. for satoru to feel like he can look you in the eyes and not get these intense pangs in his chest that make him feel like you’re pulling away from him. takes him 15 minutes to grab your hands again, all with an intense urge to hold them close to his chest so you could just feel how hard his heart beats for you.

“so… all this time…?” you trailed off. you’re not really sure what you’re asking him, but somehow he knows. he’s learned to read you so well over the years, so many unspoken words from you where he’s filled in the blanks, like a crossword puzzle. sure, it makes him come off presumptuous, often even feeling like he’s putting words in your mouth before you’ve even opened it. but he’s never been wrong, either.

he knows you like you know your favorite book — you could recite the first few pages with your eyes closed. and you thought you knew him, too… you still do, just not as well as you’d thought after a decade of friendship.

he can practically see this thought process playing out in your head, kind of like a tape reel displayed through a projector. he sees it in your eyes, in the way your expression falls a little bit, brows furrowing with the realization that you’ve never truly known him. and he feels like that desperate 17 year old all over again, watching his best friend turn his back to him and feeling completely helpless to it.

“i- i know it’s a lot to take in, but please don’t feel like-…” he cuts himself off, chewing his lower lip nervously as he searches your expression. “i’m still the same person you’ve known all these years. the parts of me that i did show you are still real… i’m still satoru.” i’m still your satoru, is what he actually wants to say, but he’s not sure if he should. he feels like he’s in murky waters right now, and even with his six eyes he can’t see the bottom.

if it’s one thing he’s learned it’s that trying to use his techniques to understand you is like a child trying to shove a square block toy into a triangle shaped hole. what you experience in your life just can’t be explained with cursed energy, or years worth of knowledge as a jujutsu sorcerer. when he’s with you it’s the closest he’ll ever feel to being human.

you lifted your eyes to meet his own, that dimmed blue color that was shining with a layer of tears he struggled to fight back. the sight made you frown, your thumbs running over his knuckles in a way that made his shoulders relax a little bit. “i know, i just…” you chewed on your lower lip, trying to put your thoughts into words. “you know i can take care of myself, right? why didn’t you just tell me sooner.”

he’d expected that response from you, if he was being honest with himself.

“it’s not that i think you can’t take care of yourself,” he started, his voice soft and wavering with the fragility he felt in his heart. “it’s that you— you just…” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and inhaling sharply. he opened his eyes again after a short moment, his gaze firmly holding yours now.

he looks at your life and he sees something so beautiful. he sees normalcy and appreciation for the mundane aspects of living — like stopping to smell flowers while on a walk, or petrichor in the morning. bees buzzing about and birds chipping at the crack of dawn. all things he never had the time for; a man who was given his life on a silver platter when he was born doesn’t have everything he actually wants.

so he tells you this. he tells you how important you are, how important it is to him that you stay the way you are.

“…i would never forgive myself if i ruined any of that.” he concludes, his hands still tightly grasping yours in an attempt to keep himself grounded.

you took another deep breath, and this time you saw something new in his eyes. it felt familiar, a splash of something he always feels when he’s around you. it made your heart flutter, as if your soul recognized it for what it was before your mind even registered it happening.

you brought your hand up, letting go of one of his to cup his cheek, and the way he leaned into your touch without hesitation made you want to close your eyes and savor the warmth he radiated. with snowy white hair and icy blue eyes on pale skin, it’s almost as if one would expect his body to run a lot colder than it actually did. it was always a pleasant surprise when this assumption was proven wrong.

the truth of the matter was that he held the warmth of the sun in his heart, shining so brightly just for you.

“you said you’re the strongest, yeah?” you murmured after an extended moment of silence, and his eyes fluttered briefly as he nodded his head. “so… why are you worried you’ll ruin it? you could never ruin anything for me.”

he wants to dispute that on pure instinct — he has ruined something before. he’s ruined someone before. and carrying the weight of that guilt in his heart does not ease his nerves right now, because what’s to say it wouldn’t happen again?

but the sincereness in your voice, the simplicity in your answer. the way you look at him as you caress his cheek. he can see you firmly believe this to be true, that he could never ruin anything for you. and for once, he just wants to allow himself to be vulnerable. you know he’s the strongest now, but that doesn’t change anything between you both because he’s never really had to be the strongest when he’s around you.

the thought then crosses his head. it's a unique feeling, one that could only parallel how he felt about suguru, but it's not quite the same either. it's special for you.

“i care so deeply about you… i think i always will.”

the words leave his mouth before he can stop them, but it’s not like he would’ve tried to. he’s already poured so much of his heart to you tonight, what’s a little more from the jar in his hands? the one he so carefully passes on to you for you to hold and keep safe; a glass jar tinted with the colors of his emotions, swirls of pinks and purples and blues like the evening sky outside the window.

and you, naturally, reciprocate. handing him your own glass jar, one that’s much smaller than his but open and willing to be filled with all the extra love he harbors. when his hands find your cheeks, he feels the warmth in them; or maybe it’s the warmth from his own palms. but it doesn’t stop him from pulling you close, shrinking the gap between you two until your lips meet in a slow and tender kiss.

the first he shares with you, and one that hopefully won’t be the last.

you pull away after a moment, and he has to fight the urge to chase your lips with his. when he opens his eyes he sees yours are still closed, and he almost panics until his gaze lands on the prominent blush on your cheeks. it reached the very tips of your ears, and he was convinced he must’ve looked equally as flushed if the way his heart clenched in his chest told him anything.

when you didn’t open your eyes one of his hands slid off your cheek, his index finger gently tracing the shape of your face, all the way up to your forehead. you’d grown out your bangs by now, a process he’d witnessed over the years. how you always fought the urge to cut them when they were just long enough to go over your eyes but too short to tuck behind your ears. it was easier to brush to the side now, so he did that, his finger trailing over the arch of your brow before he carded his fingers into your hair. he brushed it back a little bit, a smile slowly creeping onto his face when your eyes fluttered open with the action.

“satoru?”

“hmm?” he hummed, unable to stop his smile from growing when your hand went up to his, placing your palm on top of his hand and holding it against your cheek.

“you’re not just doing this because you feel like you have to, are you?” you murmured, the question making him stop running his hands through your hair as he stared at you intently, his hand sliding down to your shoulder now. “i don’t— i don’t want this… us… to only be something done out of convenience for you.”

he hesitates in his answer, not because you were right, but because he was worried that you are. you entered his life at such a precarious time, it’s easy to assume he clings to you because of that. a decade and more could never undo the damage left in his soul by suguru geto, but holding you — feeling the warmth of your lips on his. he thinks it might be the closest he’s ever felt to mending his heart.

“no, it’s… it’s not…” he mumbles after a moment, shaking his head slowly. it’s a short response, but there’s a battle waging behind his eyes when he says it. he grips your shoulder a little tighter, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath — he reminds himself that you’re still here. reminds himself that you care about him, as he does you.

and he can’t think of anything that feels more right to him that that.

“it’s not.” he repeats again when he opens his eyes, his tone firmer now. “what i… what i feel for you…” he swallows nervously. exposing your raw feelings is hard, talking about your emotions is hard. but if there’s anything he’s learned it’s that simply communicating with the people he cares about will take him a long way. he still needs some practice cementing that habit. “what i feel for you is real. it has been for a long time. it’s more than i’ve ever felt for anyone before, maybe even more than…” he trails off again, but this time he doesn’t need to finish his statement. you know exactly who he’s talking about now.

you nodded slowly, your eyes carefully searching his as he spoke. you mulled over his words, tossing and turning them in your head before you formulated your response. but then the corners of your lips twitched upwards, the slightest bit, and you couldn’t to stop the quiet giggle that left your lips first. his favorite sound. “okay…” you murmured softly, inhaling deeply before nodding your head a second time. “okay, yeah, i… i believe you… i feel the same way, then.”

his smile grew wider than ever and he stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes scanning your face before landing on your lips again, and then, “can i… kiss you again?” it was cute to you how nervous he looked, his lower lip sucked in between his teeth as he chewed on it. when you nodded your head he had the urge to throw himself at you with the sudden surge of joy that erupted in his chest, but he wasn’t trying to seem too eager right now — he didn’t want to overwhelm you, after all.

(you sensed he was eager regardless; you never told him this but when he gets really excited his eyes shine just a little bit brighter than normal, a phenomenon you always found strange but never questioned. and right now, they were pretty much glowing. but now that you now about his… powers, were they? ‘techniques’? you could probably reason it to that; you’ll ask him about it one of these days.)

he leaned in again to meet your lips with his, and the small squeak that left your mouth when his hands cupped your face again made him chuckle heartily against your lips. no, really — he was giggling now, pecking your lips repeatedly until you were giggling, too. he was so incredibly happy in this moment.

there’s still a lot that he has to deal with in an emotional sense. he’s mourning the death of his best friend, someone he hasn’t truly known for 10 years but it doesn’t make the current loss any easier. suguru had been gone for a decade already, but now he was actually gone.

ironically, however, that loss was met with a gain. twice, now. when suguru left he met you, and when suguru died it opened the doors satoru kept locked in his heart and allowed you to settle in there. maybe it is convenience, but you being there for him in both scenarios has to mean something.

in a way, it’s as if the universe was trying to tell him that he was never meant to be alone. when you’re the strongest it’s easy to feel lonely, but at the end of the day satoru isn’t a god. of all the people he’s known in his life, suguru was the first person to introduce this idea into his head — this idea of his existing humanity. but you were the one to really cement it into his very being, tying it off with a bow and tucking it into the cavity of his heart that suguru left behind. a weight that keeps his feet planted firmly on the ground, keeps him from floating away into the heavens. it keeps him down on earth, with you at his side.

there’s a first for everything, he thinks. but now that he has you, he hopes that the pain he experienced because of suguru is the last he’ll ever have to endure. he’ll treasure you for the rest of his life, however long he has left of it.