Gojou X Reader - Tumblr Posts

This IS SO SWEET 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Ref:rain — Gojou Satoru x reader

Pairing: gojou x reader

Genre: fluff! + slightly spicy make-out session that gets interrupted (oops! ☺️) (warning: slight language!)

a/n: ive had this in my draft for months but im suddenly reminiscing jjk and finally got around to edit and finish it. i hope you guys enjoy it :)

[12:57 a.m.]

You should have been sleeping right now, but instead, you were on the bed in front of Gojou with your hands cupping his face. You’ve managed to lock Gojou against the bed frame and cradled his lap. Your knees were lifted at just the perfect height to kiss him tenderly on the lips and you could feel his hands massaging rhythmic circles on your hips as you kissed him passionately.

This evening, Gojou texted you that the earliest he could come and see you from work was next week, but of course, being the sly tease he is, he surprised you at night with a spontaneous fumble of your doorknob, your favorite flowers in his hand, and that classic fucking smirk that he always have on whenever he sees your cute shocked look.

And being too swooned and shock to even get a smidgen mad at your boyfriend for almost making you blast out your “emo playlist” (aka: all the sad and emotional songs by Daughter) you ran to your door and threw your arms around him, snuggling your face in his jujutsu uniform.

You closed your eyes are you wrapped your arms tightly around him, inhaling his scent like a warm summer breeze. Wrapping your arms around him was one of the biggest things you’ve missed for the last few months it, it was just like puzzle pieces finally coming together. It fits.

When you broke away, you still had your arms around his neck, and when your eyes met your boyfriend, you shot him your perfected death stare–the kind that always leaves Gojou largely unaffected by your glare and instead chuckle.  

“Miss me?” Gojou asked, peering down at you with a charming smile on his face. You could barely see his eyes through his dark sunglasses but you could tell they were glistening with excitement.

“After three months of not seeing you?” You tilted your head and shrugged playfully. “Hmm……Maybe.” You looked up at him and gave him a sneered eye and a pout. “I don’t think I can trust your word anymore, Gojou Satoru.” You teased.

Keep reading

𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘔𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 𝘏𝘌𝘙 𝘕𝘖𝘞, 𝘉𝘜𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘋 𝘔𝘌 𝘍𝘐𝘙𝘚𝘛.

PAIRING: Gojo Satoru X Reader

GENRE: Angst

TAGS/WARNINGS: Hurt/Comfort (or not you decide hehe). Break-up. Falling out of love. Just hurtful shit. He loves someone else now but he didn't cheat. Can't explain shit omg just read sorry

NOTES: Listen to Madison Beer's new song Reckless while reading, the title is from the lyrics of this song !!

Hard as you try, there seems to be no anger in your heart. No burning rage that makes you want to set the whole world on fire. The urge to inflict the same kind of pain he's caused you not even making an appearance in your heart and mind. If it's resentment on the other hand, maybe you do bear some. Pain, too, if you're being completely honest. But you don't really feel like acting on it. Don't feel like looking for ways to release the negative emotions bubbling inside you. You just wanted to be at peace, wanted to cry everything plaguing your heart.

Maybe it's because he said it in such a soft voice, like he didn't want to hurt you but then not telling you at that moment will only make it worse, so he decides to. His palms were rubbing the back of his neck, eyes looking anywhere but you when he announced the feelings he's been desperately trying to contain.

"I'm in love with somebody else."

He wouldn't cheat on you. To the very bitter end he endured for you, and you knew that. He must've seen how desperately you were trying to save the relationship. How you still try to melt the cold that blankets over your relationship with your warm hugs, kisses lingering on his cheeks just a little bit longer than usual so you can make sure he feels the love that still blooms so beautifully in your heart.

"I understand." No matter how hard you swallow, the lump in your throat doesn't seem to go away, straining your voice. "I'll pack my things tonight and leave tomorrow."

"You don't have to go right away, Y/N," He looks at you sadly, almost pitifully, and you hated it—the fact that you're faced with the reality that it's all beyond saving.

He wouldn't run after you. Not this time.

You realized your high school days were over. He's not going to chase after you, hands on your waist saying sorry and kissing your neck under the rain every time you run away after an argument. He's no longer going to bring you flowers, thrusting it straight to your chest when he gets home because it makes him too shy to be even more sentimental than he already is.

Gojo Satoru is no longer yours.

"It's fine, Gojo." you smile at him, not missing the way he winced at the mention of his last name. Nothing like the usual "Satoru" he's been used to hearing for years. No baby's, no love's, just Gojo. Perhaps he deserved that. He's always been stupid with words, constructing sentences doesn't seem to be a thing of his. Yet this one request he was sure he would beg you for, if you were ever to refuse.

"Will," he begins, closing his eyes shut shortly after then taking a deep breath. "Will you share the bed with me?" He smiles at you sadly, guilt plaguing the beautiful frosted eyes you've always loved. "For the last time?"

Biting your lip to prevent it from shaking even more than it already it, you nod at him, heading to the kitchen as he looks at you with a confused expression. A sigh escaping his lips when you turn around to answer him.

"I'll cook us dinner before bed."

That night in bed, when you couldn't keep bottling it up anymore, you ended up crying in his chest. His arms around you as he runs his fingers through your hair. None of you spoke a word. After all, what do you say to a lover you'll be losing tomorrow? To another woman you think you probably will never be.

He assures you, though. It's not the fact that she's prettier, not that she's kinder, sweeter, or more well-spoken than you could ever be. It's just that he doesn't feel it anymore, doesn't hear his heart beat with you the way it did before—and he hates it, God, does he despise the realization. Yet, while he couldn't imagine his life without you, he thinks he also couldn't imagine a future without her.

You look up at him and he stares down at you, with eyes full of warmth and melancholy—but no longer of love. His frosted lashes almost a painful reminder of what your relationship has gone to—cold and unforgiving. His eyes speak to you the words he somehow couldn't bring himself to say.

He's sorry for hurting you, but he's not for loving her. After all, he just loved. Just started to harbor the same feelings he once did for you.

The morning was both harder and easier than last night. The closure you got before the separation more than you could have ever asked for—a temporary solution to your breaking heart. However, the pain persists as you get closer and closer to leaving the house you've spent so many years with him so he can stay in it and make new memories with her.

The door is heavy, heavier than the luggage he's helping you to carry. Turning back to him when you've stepped a foot outside, your eyes catch the sight of the necklace hanging around a chain on his neck—your present to him for your first anniversary. He must have noticed, delicate fingers suddenly wrapping around the ring.

"I'm not taking it off," Gojo Satoru smiles, goodbye dripping from every syllable of every word coming out of his mouth. "So never take yours off too."

You reach up to him for a last hug, arms wrapping around his neck as you let your tears fall the moment your face is out of his sight. He was your best friend, your anchor, your life support. He was everything to you and you like to believe that once upon a time, you were too.

You whisper your last I love you before driving off in your car, the response you were used to hearing every single time not echoing in your ears this time.

Gojo Satoru was more than a lover to you. He's taken up more memories in your mind than the thoughts you have for yourself, your heart filled with nothing but a space for all the love you would have given him for the rest of your life, had you been given the chance. You spent years experiencing the beautiful kind of love he could give and maybe, this time, it's time for others to experience it too.

The same fantasy you once did.

The sun shines down through your windshield, reflecting on the ring shining on your finger as it grips the steering wheel. The shimmer a bittersweet reminder that while he might love her now, he still loved you first, and you guess—no, you believe, that it's enough.

To be loved by Gojo Satoru and bask in the affection he once offered.

masterlists

⌗ s. gojo in your eyes ♡︎ realizing he loves you ♡︎ the prank you pull on them ♡︎ target runs ♡︎ why they cheat on you ♡︎ how they comfort you ♡︎ domestic jjk men ♡ you minus me ♡︎ how they hurt you ♡︎ “i’m not happy anymore” ♡︎ their love language ♡︎

⌗ y. itadori realizing he loves you ♡︎ the prank you pull on them ♡︎ target runs ♡︎ why they cheat on you ♡︎ how they comfort you ♡︎ break-ups suck but maybe one day we'll make up ♡︎ may we meet in another life ♡︎ how they hurt you ♡︎ “i’m not happy anymore” ♡︎ their love language ♡︎

⌗ m. fushiguro realizing he loves you ♡︎ the prank you pull on them ♡︎ target runs ♡︎ why they cheat on you ♡︎ how they comfort you ♡︎ as a boyfriend ♡︎ how they hurt you ♡︎ their love language ♡︎

⌗ k. nanami realizing he loves you ♡︎ the prank you pull on them ♡︎ why they cheat on you ♡︎ how they comfort you ♡︎ as a boyfriend ♡︎ domestic jjk men ♡︎

⌗ t. fushiguro realizing he loves you ♡︎ why they cheat on you ♡︎ domestic jjk men ♡︎ how they hurt you ♡ toji’s letter to you ♡︎ “i’m not happy anymore” ♡︎ their love language ♡︎

⌗ choso as a boyfriend ♡︎ the prank you pull on them ♡︎ choso w a stoner gf ♡︎ how they comfort you ♡︎ domestic jjk men ♡︎

⌗ t. inumaki the prank you pull on them ♡︎ target runs ♡︎ how they comfort you ♡︎ as a boyfriend ♡︎

⌗ r. sukuna domestic jjk men ︎♡ with you (on going) ♡︎

⌗ s. getou domestic jjk men ︎♡ you minus me ♡︎ “i’m not happy anymore” ♡︎ how they hurt you ♡︎ their love language ♡︎

⌗ EXTRA$ ! jjk characters + their song

© all works by tojisveryown on tumblr, do not modify or repost

THIS IS SO GOOD WHAT THE HECK

☆ 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗼 - ,, 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

summary: satoru gojo has been your best friend for the past 14 years. when he suddenly finds himself taking care of a kid, your relationship twists and turns into something far more romantic. warnings: fem!reader , slow burn , mutual pining , angst , suggestive (nothing explicit but things are implied) , mentions of death , violent imagery , reader deals with a lot in this fic , gojo is sweet tho !! not proof-read word count: 15.8k (kill me now.) a/n: this fic has been in my drafts for a year now and it's honestly such a mess but i've written it and i'm happy with it (kind of) so the fact that it's such a jumble barely bothers me anymore !! special thanks to the glue song by beabadoobee for helping me through this

“i love you,” he says, lips curled into a pout that makes you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

you press the heels of your palms to your eyes, sighing deeply, “no you don’t.”

“but i do!” and his voice gets louder, which only coaxes the already forming headache behind your eyes to grow. “so you should get your notes out for me.”

“what do you know about love anyway?”

it’s muttered just under your breath and you hope gojo didn’t catch it, isn’t able to read into the bitterness laced along each word. you slam your laptop shut, standing up abruptly. gojo follows suit.

“i’m not digging up my anthropology notes from two years ago just so you can cheat.”

his hopeful expression drops in an instant, hands flying forward to grab onto you, “no! don’t you want me to pass? don’t you love me?”

and what about you? what do you know about love?

you know that it’s difficult. there isn’t a need for any profound thinking, any nuance, for you to believe that. you know it’s true because you’ve lived it—because you are living it. you don’t have to have said “i love you,” once in your life, to know your way around the trials and tribulations that come with pesky emotions. (emphasis on pesky emotions that call for intimacy).

you know that love hurts. perhaps, it’s the lack of control that makes love so painful. while beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, those who behold can’t choose who they wish to admire. it happens unexpectedly, like the changing tides: waves of emotion crashing down at once and pushing you off kilter. 

you know that love is uncertain, a gamble. it’s the lack of promise love can give. while you may love someone with everything you have, devote yourself to them, prioritize them—they might never see you as anyone other than a friend. sometimes, you might be a best friend. oftentimes, it’s never anything more than that.

and yet, love is such a beautiful thing. it bleeds warm, saccharine sweet like spoonfuls of honey, and fills you with the greatest happiness. tingles at your fingertips where they touch, shivers down your spine when they stare, butterflies erupting in your stomach when they speak. your skin growing warm and your smile stretched wide—that was the beauty of love.

but how can something so precious be so utterly disheartening? 

“no,” you roll your eyes, walking away from your best friend, unsurprised when he scrambles after you. “i don’t love you.”

you don’t mean it at all.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you sigh a great deal in your life, but none of them compare to the way your chest heaves when you find yourself doing something you know you’ll regret. it’s never a shock that these regretful choices often accompany a certain white-haired man.

the pitch black darkness of your room is pierced by a beam of bright light from your phone screen, your tired eyes reading over the message once. twice. three times.

gojo 🤑: hey can i ask for a favor? pleaseeeeee?????? 🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏 im begging you 😫😫

you groan, tossing your phone to the side to run your hand down your face, letting your fingers catch on the soft skin around your eyes. despite the many years you’ve known him, your hand still trembles as you type out your response, another sigh escaping your lips.

you: what the fuck is it now

the urge to slam your head into the nearest wall makes your neck twitch, the ghost of the movement lingering over your body. why did you even bother asking?

gojo 🤑: i knew you’d say yes 😁 you just love me SO much come to my place tomorrow early too better be there before sunrise

you:  i’m going to kill you for this one satoru 

setting down your phone, you will yourself to close your eyes and forget about the man who’s been the cause for all your inner turmoil lately.

to be honest, he’s been the cause of your inner turmoil for the past year and a half, as pathetic as that may be. it’s not your fault he’s handsome, charming, funny, reliable—the list goes on. sure, he can be slightly immature at times, and he often shies away from commitment, but who doesn’t have flaws, right?

you squeezed your eyes shut even harder, trying to clear your mind of all things gojo.

the thing with love is that, at its worst, it can stay a secret for years and years to come. you can pine and yearn for someone so terribly, every fiber in your body craves them, and they would never know. you never have to tell them anything. that choice alone is what has put you in your recent predicament.

if life was black and white, perhaps you could have stopped being friends with him the moment you noticed the way your heart raced at the mere thought of him. but things don’t work like that and, frankly, you think gojo would hunt you down if you even tried to cut him off.

you’ve tried to rid yourself of this 190cm lanky demon several times over the course of your life, however you’ve been unsuccessful every single time. when you met him 14 years ago, you didn’t think satoru gojo would become your best friend. in fact, you found him annoying, like a pesky mosquito that refused to leave you alone no matter how hard you swatted at him.

the two of you had your fair share of fights growing up, some lasting mere hours, others stretching on over the course of a couple days. despite that, you both managed to make up and forgive each other no matter what. 

you had believed then, as a hurting teenager, that one of your more serious arguments would eventually drive you both apart. after all, the similarities between you both were few and far between. for some reason entirely unknown to you, your scatheing words never pushed him away.

and now that it's been 14 years, you’ve grown too fond of him to be able to imagine a life without him. 

so, you’re forced to swallow back the way your feelings crawl to the back of your throat when you’re with him, resting at the tip of your tongue, because you know he’d never see you as anything more than a friend. 

hell, it was obvious. the two of you have done everything you could possibly do as a couple: go on amusement park “dates”, spend hours in the arcade together. he’s even insisted on cuddling, changing in front of one another, sharing a bed. yet, gojo has never seemed to look at you any differently. 

and none of it ever bothered you either—until last year, when you saw him in a different light nearly overnight. in comparison to all else you had done with him, this was absolutely minuscule, but it's the reason gojo takes up so much of your thoughts even now. 

you had come over to his apartment. it was a saturday and every saturday, he insisted the both of you hang out. when you met him as a dumb little kid, it was easy to hang out whenever you both pleased. things are obviously different now that you both have responsibilities. 

being busy with university and your part-time job, you and gojo began to see less and less of each other. still, saturday evenings stayed dedicated to your long-standing friendship. that day, your shift at the grocery store was particularly grueling: loud babies wailing, irritable customers screaming in your face. to top it all off, you had a headache and had to skip lunch. safe to say, you were exhausted. 

you got to gojo’s house, knocking on the door, almost falling asleep against the wood. he didn't greet you. in fact, he wasn't even home. this wasn't uncommon, you simply pulled out your spare key and walked inside, making a beeline for his couch and letting your body sink into the soft cushions. the guy was unbelievably rich for a university student—not that you were complaining. 

you wanted to stay awake, wait for him so you could follow through with your usual saturday shenanigans, but you just couldn’t. 

the couch was awfully comfortable, cradling your fatigued body, lulling you to sleep. your eyes fought against the instinct to close, but ultimately, you lost and gave in. darkness enveloped you as your head fell back. it was a rather uncomfortable position, but at that moment, you didn’t have enough energy to care. 

you fell asleep in mere minutes, and because he has the worst timing, gojo showed up seconds after you had bid goodbye to consciousness. 

to this day, you’re still unsure if you had dreamt it, or maybe you had jolted back into a state of semi-awareness when your noisy friend barged in with a loud, “honey! i’m home!”. what you’re sure of, is the fact that he had moved you. while drifting in and out of sleep, you felt his cold hands press into the muscle of your arms as he laid you down, moving you into a much more comfortable position. 

perhaps you were still in the throes of deep sleep, sinking into pillowy clouds in your dreams and that’s why you conjured up this moment. it might not have happened at all. or…perhaps gojo did lean over you, his warmth spilling over your cheek as he pressed his lips to your forehead. they were slightly chapped as they brushed against your skin, and you felt the gust of air as he sighed his goodnight.

you wonder if he had smiled. 

it wasn’t like gojo had never been affectionate with you before. in fact, you’re pretty sure physical touch is one of his love languages with how prone he is to clinging onto you like some parasite. some things, like forehead kisses, are strictly outside the bounds of your friendship.

there’s something so intimate about that gesture, something far more genuine and laced with a kind of devotion that never exists between people who are simply just friends.

the following morning, you wrenched yourself out of his apartment with the excuse that you had to feed your fish. you don’t even own fish. 

the feeling had been so utterly foreign. you couldn’t remember a time when you had ever felt this nervous around gojo—your palms sweaty, a tingling feeling racing up and down your spine. the realization dawned on you the moment you had woken up.

this feeling, which had laid dormant at the bottom of your heart, flickered to life, merging with the very blood that pumps through your veins.

maybe, gojo had always been more than just a friend. more than a best friend, even. 

you don’t know how to face it—the truth about your feelings. you try and fail to move on, tray and fail to confess, try and fail.

which is why it wasn’t surprising in any sense that you were awake, before the sun had even graced your city, slipping on your shoes so you could go and see what your best friend wanted from you. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“you have a what?”

gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “why’d you say that like i asked you to get naked or something? listen: i have some errands to run and i need you to look after this kid of mine.”

you’re struggling to wrap your head around everything he just laid onto you. even if the only new information was that he, seemingly overnight, got himself a kid. how did satoru gojo end up with a child in his care?

your sputter, trying to come up with something to say, “since when did you have a kid?”

“i adopted him a few days ago, saved him from some family stuff. anyways, can you look after him or not?”

you really hate yourself for saying yes, but you say yes, and suddenly you’re sitting on the couch with the world’s grumpiest child next to you. it’s been a few minutes since gojo’s left to do god knows what, and neither of you have said a word. you expected megumi to get off the couch and go do his thing, while you figure out how to look after him, but he stayed glued to the spot gojo called him to.

“so…how old are you?”

silence. 

“i’m twenty-two, just like satoru.”

more silence.

you probably wouldn’t have known his name had it not been for gojo telling you. 

you sigh—he clearly doesn’t like you. it stings a little bit, you liked to tell yourself that you’re the type of person kids naturally gravitate towards, but clearly there are exceptions. 

“what’s your…favorite color?” you try once more, and again, it’s met with silence. the boy hasn’t even looked at you, staring straight ahead, preoccupied with something else. 

“well, mine is probably blue. i think it’s such a nice color—like the ocean and the sky. and there’s so many shades, but lighter blues are especially gorgeous,” you ramble, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

he lets out a breath through his nose, and you perk up, waiting for his response. “i like pink. do you like blue because it reminds you of gojo’s eyes?”

you laugh, perhaps a bit too loud. out of all the things he could have said, you certainly weren’t expecting that. 

waving your hands in front of you, you try to shrug off his question, “no, it’s nothing like that! he’s just my best friend.”

megumi nods, but something tells you he doesn’t believe you. you can’t believe you got bested by a six-year-old. shaking your head, you interrogate him some more about his hobbies, and megumi responds with one word answers. eventually, the two of you settle on reading him some non-fiction book that you’re surprised even interests him.

as the hours stretch on, megumi warms up to you a little more. or something like that. he’s started asking you more about yourself, and even let you inside his room, showing you his growing collection of books about animals. 

he’s strangely interested in your relationship with gojo: asking how you two met, why you wanted to be friends with him. whenever you give him your answer (some bullshit you make up on the spot because—really. why are you still friends with an idiot like him?), he hums like he’s learned some fundamental truth about you. 

honestly, the kid scares you a little bit and it makes perfect sense that he ended up with satoru gojo as his parent. 

speaking of: the fact that gojo was even allowed to adopt him in the first place makes you question everything you ever knew about him. then again, there’s always the possibility that this was by no means a legal adoption. he did say megumi was saved from some family troubles, and knowing your best friend of several years, this very well entails kidnapping. 

you furrow your brows, looking over at the six-year-old doodling some large fluffy dogs, “did gojo just scoop you up off the street?”

“something like that.”

well. that’s alarming. 

when gojo gets back, he doesn’t really offer you much of an explanation as to how or why he suddenly has a kid. you were naive for thinking you would get one at all. instead, he tucks megumi into bed, sits you down at his dinner table, and shares some of the takeout he brought home with you. 

you expected that to be the last time you’d be babysitting megumi.

but then you’re back in two days, and then the day after that as well. and then the day after that too. 

now, you’re a good friend who loves helping out your friends, and you’re a good samaritan who will provide your aid where it’s needed. in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t even that terrible of an arrangement. you could definitely live like this.

but then it’s been a week of being called to babysit, and you definitely can’t live like this.

you don’t have the heart to look gojo in the eyes and tell him you can’t do this anymore, so you keep going. love makes people do crazy things, even if it’s ignoring pending assignments so you could color dogs with a grumpy little boy.

you rub the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you get dressed, “why don’t you get an actual babysitter? i doubt i’m being a good influence.”

of course, your academics are your top priority. but you can’t help but think about how megumi might turn out if the only people he seems to be surrounded by are you, and your impulsive, borderline insane best friend. 

gojo’s voice crackles over the phones as he laughs, “you see, i would. but megumi keeps asking for you- actually, he insists that it has to be you.”

maybe, you’re just being dramatic. this isn’t that bad anyways. 

this time when you step into the gojo household, your beloved best friend already has one foot out the door. normally, he lingers, giving you both sickly sweet goodbyes, scooping up a struggling megumi into his arm to plant a big wet kiss on his cheek. 

he offers you one too, which you quickly decline. 

“i won’t be back until really late today,” satoru grimaces, pulling the door shut only for you to pull it back open.

you pout, slightly alarmed, “but satoru, i have an essay to work on!”

“just use my laptop!” he shouts as he runs off. you wonder how he has the time to do any of his own assignments. 

you figure he’s probably out meeting with his model UN group. it’s one of the few academic pursuits in his life that gojo is very serious about. either that, or he actually took up the tutoring offer from nanami (but you highly doubt that).

megumi has yet to wake up, so you go on a hunt for gojo’s laptop to start on your essay. might as well be productive while you have the chance to. 

you find it resting on his desk in his bedroom, and bring it over to the living room. it’s only when you open it up that you find out it’s password locked. you try texting gojo, but something tells you he won’t be responding. 

if you can’t guess the password, then you have to begrudgingly start your essay on your phone, which sounds like a nightmare.

your first guess is his own birthday. satoru has a habit of acting like his birth reset the course of planet earth, so it wouldn’t surprise you if that was also his password. surprisingly, you’re wrong. and you’re wrong about it being geto’s birthday, or megumi’s birthday (which you only learned recently), and even your own birthday. 

you’ve definitely ruled out the possibility of it ever being nanami’s birthday, which leads you to believe it isn’t a birthday at all. bringing your hands together, you steeple your fingers and bring them under your chin; trying to think like gojo is hurting your brain.

clearly this isn't working out. gojo's an enigma and trying to put yourself in his shoes is making you lose what few brain cells you've managed to save. 

so, you make your way into his poorly guarded room.

you tend to keep a safe distance away from his bedroom for obvious reasons- lord knows what gojo has lying around- so it feels strange to open the door and step inside. 

your first impression is one of surprise at how clean it was. knowing his tendency to leave many of his chores untouched or half-completed, you expected his room to be a reflection of his laziness, but you can actually see the floor. his bed is made and his dirty clothes lay in a hamper in the corner, clean clothes folded and placed off to the side on his bed. 

his desk is a tad cluttered with random trinkets, many of which you recognize from your countless adventures with him, but it’s organized enough.

“okay, if i was satoru, what would i make my password?” you whisper just under your breath as your eyes continue to scan and scrutinize his room. 

you walk up to a few post-it notes stuck on the wall, hoping that one of them might be his password. you remember the amount of times gojo’s gotten locked out of his email, social media, and other things—it would only make sense for him to write passwords down.

unfortunately for you, all of them are reminders to take out the trash. 

pulling out the chair tucked into his desk, you take a seat, sprawling out as you continue to take in his room. growing up, you spent hours upon hours cooped up in satoru’s room. the two of you spent your time playing video games, watching tv shows you were definitely too young for, and talking about everything and nothing. 

when you got bored of his room, the both of you would do the same thing in your room. 

somewhere along the years, you stopped hanging out in each others’ rooms. you suppose it’s only natural- your bedroom goes from being a place to sleep to a clear insight into the way you live your life. 

gojo’s room lacks the mess you would’ve expected, but it’s still obviously his room from the several polaroids stuck to the wall, the kikufuku wrappers on his desk, and the growing collection of mugs accumulating on the nightstand. 

it makes you smile, despite the fact that the several mugs are nothing short of disgusting. next to them is a framed picture. you never took satoru for someone who’s sentimental, and out of sheer curiosity, you walk over to see what it is. 

your smile only widens as you realize it's a picture of you and him from when you were young. you recognize the park the two of you are at instantly: it was where you both met. you were both only just kids back then. he basically ran into you and felt guilty, so he offered to hang out with you since you apparently looked lonely. you took offense, obviously, and told him to leave you alone. 

he did not and suddenly you found yourself with a new friend. gojo forced himself into your life and after a few short days, you decided he wasn’t all that bad. the picture was taken by his mom, before the both of you parted ways, only to immediately find out you lived across from each other.

you flip the frame over, surprised to find a date scribbled in the corner. from the year alone, you figure it was the day the picture was taken. realizing you may have stumbled across his password, you rush back to his laptop to try it. 

lo and behold, it worked.

you sit there for a moment, desperately trying not to read into what you just found out. surely, there’s nothing more to this than satoru choosing a date for a password. he probably didn’t want to go with a birthday since it would be too obvious, so he picked another date instead. 

shaking the annoyingly hopeful thoughts crowding your mind, you quickly begin working on your essay.

you only get halfway through your essay before megumi joins you, silent as always, but from the way he’s side-eyeing you it’s obvious he wants your attention. you spend the rest of the day with him as you usually would, reading and drawing, sharing bits and pieces about your life.

somehow the conversation spirals to when you and gojo met, and you’re not sure if you’re still hung up over his password, but you find your voice shaking a little as you recount the many things you’ve done with him.

eventually, as the sun begins to set, you get dinner ready and eat on the couch with megumi by your side. some random cartoon show is playing on tv, but megumi seems much more interested in mimicking the way you’re forking pasta into your mouth. 

he helps you clean up, and shuffles in next to you on the couch once more. you don’t remember megumi falling asleep, or when you fell asleep as well.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

when you wake up, you're surrounded by warmth. it feels like you're sinking into something akin to moist, spongy cake. the sunlight melts over your closed eyes, and you flutter them open, blinded by white very briefly as you get used to the daytime once more. 

and then you notice gojo laying next to you, elbow pressed into the mattress as he holds his head up with his palm, obviously shirtless and staring down at you. all the air in your lungs escapes you quickly, getting tangled in your throat as you choke. 

you frantically point at his torso, and the bed the two of you were sharing, "what- you- what?"

he laughs and it does little to calm you, "don't worry, we didn't do anything.”

“i didn't want to leave you on the couch after i pried megumi away to send him off to school."

he shrugs off the comforter, making your thrashing heart slow down at the sight of his sweatpants. you can feel your own clothes from last night on you: your uncomfortable jeans and an old cotton and polyester t-shirt. 

you frown, following him, "megumi goes to school?"

"yeah?" he says, while your eyes flit all over his chest. "he's six, what else would he be doing?"

you decide not to comment on the fact that megumi hasn’t been attending school for the past couple days, trusting that gojo knew what he was doing. that’s probably a mistake but it’s not your problem to worry about. 

the two of you file out of his bedroom, and you scroll through your phone while waiting for him to leave the bathroom. 

"i can't believe megumi slept with you last night. and on top of that, he was clinging onto you like a dumb koala."

you could barely understand gojo with his toothbrush shoved in his mouth, but you could make out enough to respond with a smug smirk, "sorry that i'm better at this than you are."

"i'm telling you—it's the maternal instincts!" he huffs, walking back into the bathroom with the slam of the door. "do you have any idea how hard it was to pull him away from you in the morning?"

he's yelling from inside the bathroom, and you roll your eyes as he keeps complaining. 

"i basically got in my morning work out! and then-!" he starts again, this time opening the door, wiping his face with a small towel, "that little shit had the audacity to start wailing when i carried you off to the bedroom

"whining about how you were his or whatever," gojo trails off, his voice getting quieter as he begins to mumble. "as if i didn't know you first."

you feel your chest tighten as your heart swells; it's surprising how quickly you've grown attached to the little kid. for all his efforts, he was actually pretty clingy.

a laugh bubbles up your throat, the corners of your mouth twitching up with amusement as you come to a realization.

"gojo...are you jealous of a little kid?"

he gives you an incredulous look, scoffing in offense, "gojo? you mean satoru—first of all."

the laugh you've been holding back bursts past your lips, escaping you as you shut the door in his face. 

"second of all," he shouts, "no. i am not jealous of some kid!"

"i beg to differ!" you call out, and he doesn't respond. you enjoy the silence: this feels good. this feels domestic, and natural, and good. 

it makes your stomach twist when you realize that gojo is nothing more than a good friend. and he'd never see you as anything more than that. 

"what do you want for breakfast?" he asks suddenly, and you clear your thoughts. 

"nothing, coffee is fine."

"okay, no. i’m making waffles," he hums and you can hear him walk away, his footsteps making the ground shake. 

you go about your business in the bathroom, exiting a few seconds later to meet gojo in the kitchen. he's busy gathering ingredients, setting everything down onto the marble counters as he hums a song you recognize as one you introduced him to. 

leaning against the cool counter, you begin to speak, "you know the heart attack you gave me today morning?"

he responds by turning around, giving you a wolfish grin, which you pointedly ignore. 

"why didn't you leave me on the couch anyway?"

this was the first time gojo has ever made an effort to pick you up and move you somewhere else, let alone his own bed. you've slept over multiple times before, and always woke up on the couch. 

he stills, hesitating for a moment and you can feel the air almost pause. 

"and what? leave you to complain at me about how you slept weird?"

he brushed off the question, both you and him know that. but you let it go, opting for admiring your best friend, and crush, work the kitchen. 

gojo isn't the best cook, certainly not better than you, but he can hold his own. that being said, gojo's a messy cook and always leaves the kitchen like a hurricane swept through it. 

he looks good, but then again, the moments where he looks even mediocre are few and far between. his sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the watery sun from the cloudy sky outside spreads over his back and his porcelain hair like it's meant to be shining on him at all times. 

you come around the side of the kitchen, hoisting yourself up onto the counter gojo was working on, allowing your gaze to settle on the curve of his nose and the way his lips were parted with focus. his eyes seem to take on an almost mystical glow—vivid cerulean irises flitting from the different bowls laid out in front of him. 

"take a picture, princess, it'll last longer," he mutters with a ghost of a smirk. 

"you're so annoying."

his boisterous laugh takes up the whole room, and you bite your lip, looking down at your swinging feet. 

he calms down and pours the batter into the warmed up waffle maker, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth with focus, "you know, it took megumi weeks to warm up to me. he's not shy but...he's kind of picky with people."

this surprises you. 

sure, when you first met him, megumi wasn't the kindest. but it didn't take you long to break him out of his shell. he wasn't the most talkative, but it was the little things: when he leaned into your side while you sat beside him, when he mimicked the way you had eaten. 

megumi is observant and mimicry is the sincerest form of flattery. 

"i hadn't noticed..." you finally say, trailing off. 

gojo exhales something of a laugh, "that's because he loves you."

"i think 'love' is pushing it-"

"no, no! you should've seen him today, bitching and moaning about how i'm making him leave you."

he rolls his eyes with a groan, muttering to himself in annoyance. 

you smirk, pointing at his face to make a quip about him rolling his eyes, when someone begins to bang on the front door. 

there's a quick, rapid succession of knocks, and then: "satoru! where are you?! you have class!"

you don't give gojo the chance to speak before you're jumping off the counter, rushing over to open the door. 

geto stands with his hands shoved in his pockets, brows furrowed until he realizes it's you who's opened the door, and not his perpetually tardy friend. 

"y/n, nice to see you," he smiles, bending down to meet your gaze. you flush, involuntarily. 

though your affection may lie with gojo, geto was still every bit as charming, and then some. 

you move out of the way, giving him the space to step into gojo's lavish flat. his sneakers squeak against the tile of the entrance as he stops next to you. 

"good to see you too, suguru," you grin back, wrapping your arms around your waist. 

he shuffles a bit closer to you, and you don't hesitate to lean against him, suddenly tired. geto moves with ease as he slips an arm around you, bringing you into his side. 

"i don't have class today, you know that."

gojo comes into view from around the kitchen, his eyes immediately fixating on the way suguru has you within his grasp. he visibly stiffens, eyes darkening in a way you haven’t seen before. he wears a kind of neutral look that you can’t understand.

suguru, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow, "are you sure about that? today is tuesday, not wednesday."

and this time when gojo stills, it's not with some unreadable expression that confuses you—it's with shock. he scrambles to pull out his phone from the pocket of his sweats, glancing at the date before letting out a string of curses. 

"c'mere," he gestures at you, then ultimately decides to pull you away, his hand closing around your wrist. 

you let gojo drag you into the kitchen, ignoring the way your skin burns at his touch, and he turns to you with an apologetic smile. he's stumbling out his words, hands gripping your upper arms as he speaks. "i can't be marked late by the professor again, or else i'm gonna be in so much trouble."

it’s beyond you why the two of you had to walk into the kitchen for him to divulge this information. and it’s certainly beyond you why gojo had let his fingers linger around your wrist, and on your upper arms. you ignore it, however, as you move towards the sleek, black keurig and turn it on.

geto walks into the kitchen then, shooing a very reluctant gojo to go get dressed. he moves over to grab you a mug for your coffee, which you graciously thank him for since gojo had a habit of leaving everything you needed tucked away in unusually high cabinets.

you set it under the coffee maker, waiting for the dark liquid to fill the cup. tendrils of steam spill out the sides of the mug, the kitchen filling up with the scent of the bitter drink. to your side, geto’s leaning against the counter, watching you with a soft smile. you meet his eyes with a curious stare, raising your eyebrows.

“something on my face, suguru?”

he laughs, warm and deep, shaking his head, “nothing at all.” he slides closer, reaching around you to grab a spoon before grabbing the creamer for you. “why’d you spend the night anyway? did that idiot bug you to study with him?”

you scoff at the thought of your ‘study’ sessions with gojo; they always devolve into the both of you watching a movie, your work forgotten on the floor. 

“nope,” you answer, pouring some of the creamer into your coffee, “i was babysitting his…kid.”

geto’s eyes widen ever so slightly, the only indicator of him acknowledging what you said. you open your mouth to say something more, but gojo comes running out of his room, jacket half-on. he eyes your closeness to geto suspiciously, before motioning for his friend to follow him with a wave of his hand. 

before they leave, gojo walks over to where you’re standing in the kitchen, grinning at you so sweetly. you know he wants something from you.

“would you– like to stay for dinner? with megumi and i?” he asks, voice just a hair above a whisper. had you not been standing so close to him, you might not have heard him at all. his expression remains sincere for a moment more before it morphs into an exaggerated pout.

“please?” he begs, dragging out the word just to irritate you.

“put that fucking pout away and i might agree.”

he takes that as a yes, pulling you into a hug that nearly spills the coffee out of your mug. “i’ll see you then,” he mumbles into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like you’d float away should he let go.

geto slams a hand against the wall, reminding gojo of his presence, “hurry it up, unless you wanna be late.”

you wave them both out, gojo blowing a kiss your way which you pretend to catch and stomp on. the action elicits a laugh from geto which earns him a shoulder punch from the taller of the two. they begin bickering as they walk away and you watch fondly, heart aching for something you know you’re never getting.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

when gojo gets back from class, he arrives with megumi in tow. the young boy stumbles inside, shrugging off his backpack as soon as he makes it in. you had let yourself in a few moments earlier, knowing gojo would be home soon. you wanted to help with dinner.

megumi notices you seated on the couch and approaches you slowly, giving you a short wave. you return the gesture just as gojo walks over to meet you both, large hands resting atop megumi’s head.

“ready for dinner?”

you nod your head, getting up, “i’m helping.”

“i figured,” he laughs, leading the way into the kitchen. you watch as he puts on the stupid apron shoko had gotten him as a gag gift a few years ago. ‘kiss the cook!’ is printed in red cursive on the front with kiss marks and red hearts around it.

gojo catches you looking at the words, leaning closer while pointing at his lips. “well? you read the apron, angel.”

you try not to put much meaning into the pet name and scoff, shoving him away. “are aprons suddenly law or something?”

“not all of them, but this one is.”

“oh yeah? and what’s so special about this one, satoru?” you ask, getting ingredients out from the fridge, the necessary produce needed for dinner tonight. 

“i said so.”

“in your dreams, dumbass.”

he grins, wide and yielding as he steps closer to where you’ve cozied up in a corner. you take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart thrashing against your ribcage. though his attention should be elsewhere, his eyes remain glued to your own. you turn around, back facing him.

it’s a precautionary measure because you’re sure that you’d make a mistake, staring at him the way you were. 

his chest presses against your back, the warmth of his body seeping through the cotton of his shirt and you can’t quite stop yourself from relaxing against him. 

“where did i put it?” he mumbles to himself, searching the cupboards above you. he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about the fact that he’s crowding you against the counter, one arm resting on the marble countertop, caging you against him.

gojo pulls away rather abruptly, the feeling of him disappearing as soon as you had gotten used to it. “guess it’s not there after all,” he says, swiftly moving over to another cupboard to check. 

you, however, have a hand pressed to your heart, feeling it nearly beat out of your chest. 

megumi joins you both in the kitchen shortly after, and gojo brings him up to sit on some free counter space while the both of you maneuver around each other in the kitchen. you can feel megumi watching you as you hand things over to gojo, freezing when his fingers brush yours. you know he’s watching when gojo reaches around you for something, pressing himself against you.

you wait for the water in the pot to come to a simmer, softly humming the chorus of a song over and over again. eventually, megumi picks up on the repetition, humming along with you. it brings a smile to your face and you can’t resist pinching his little cheek. 

you’re too busy cooing at megumi (whose face has gone red from embarrassment) to notice gojo watching you both, leaning down, his cheek propped up by his arm resting on the counter. there’s a warmth in his gaze that you always seem to miss, this barely restrained desire to know you better than he knows himself.

he sighs wistfully, which gets your attention and as you turn, he’s walking closer. you let him wrap his arms around you, looking into your eyes for just a brief moment. his gaze is cloudy, like he’s wrapped up in his own mind—your own pining reflected back to you. it startles you; you long to look inside his mind.

“this is really nice,” gojo hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “we should do this more often.”

you can only nod in agreement, everything you want to say sticking to the roof of your mouth, sugar exploding along your tongue like a caramel candy. 

you swallow them down, deciding to keep them to yourself for a little longer. gojo squeezes you to his chest, then untangles himself from you. you watch him get back to cooking and you wonder if his heart is also racing, the blood rushing to his head, roaring in his ears. 

there's a whisper of something painful in the back of your mind. you ignore it.

seconds ago, you were close enough to share a breath. yet, when you watch him now, you feel as though you’ll always be miles apart.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

it’s been a few days since you’ve started babysitting megumi. you fell so easily into their routine, like you were always meant to be a part of it. and when you listen to gojo complain about how megumi likes you more, you begin to believe that you were. 

you fiddle with the keys to gojo’s car as you stand just outside of megumi’s school, waiting for the hordes of children to come running out. tired mothers sit on the few benches next to the entrance, rehashing the same gossip most likely. fathers stand possessively in front of their cars, arms crossed over their chest as they wait. 

it’s cold. the wind brings a chill that sweeps over you and makes a few strands of your hair flutter, landing in a mess covering your eyes. you blow them out of the way, tapping your foot impatiently. 

megumi’s school is rather small: just one main building, single-storied. in the back, you think there’s a garden, judging by the chain link fencing colored green thanks to the growing ivy wrapped around it. 

wreathes and small christmas trees are placed strategically along the sidewalk and on the walls outside, fairy lights strung from the roof of the school. the announcement board outside features a santa claus cutout smiling joyfully. the school is covered in christmas decorations as they prepare for the upcoming holidays, only a week and a half away.

you briefly wonder what gojo’s plans are, whether he’ll be taking megumi home to his family. you highly doubt it—satoru would hate to be on the receiving end of a stream of endless questions. how was he meant to explain megumi anyway?

along with that thought, comes another: would megumi miss his family over the holidays? 

you don’t know much about the boy at all, neither megumi himself nor gojo bothered to explain his past. however, it must be a pretty stark change to suddenly be under the care of a college student, especially one as eccentric as gojo. 

the clock ticks down to a minute before the end of the school day. a large crowd of children stand waiting behind the closed gates, squealing and screaming, waving frantically at their parents waiting for them.

you hear the bell ring and the gate opens, kids flooding out like a rush of water breaking past a dam. their little legs slam against the pavement as they race for their families. you keep an eye out for megumi, knowing that he wouldn’t be the type to behave so rambunctiously. 

it doesn’t take long for you to spot the top of his head, his spiky raven hair moving slowly behind a gaggle of loud children. megumi looks around aimlessly, probably for nanami who normally picks him up. his friend next to him, a pink-haired boy, grins at him and says something you can’t make out.

he must be loud, you notice, as megumi winces from the noise. his gaze eventually makes its way to you, and you watch as recognition flashes across his features. eyebrows raised and eyes wide, megumi makes a mad dash towards you, plowing down his friend in the process.

the sight of the pink-haired boy rolling around on the sidewalk makes you gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your laughter at bay. megumi slows down dramatically when you wave to him, struggling to appear indifferent to your presence. it’s insanely endearing.

“hi megumi,” you smile, reaching out a hand to brush over the unruly strands of his hair. megumi wrinkles his nose at the feeling of your fingers smoothing over his scalp, but he returns your greeting.

“hello. where’s nanami?”

the abruptness of the question barely phases you. you’re used to megumi’s bluntness.

“well…satoru forgot to tell nanami to get you today, so i showed up instead,” you answer, leading megumi towards gojo’s car. 

you barely had the opportunity to really take in this car on your way to the school, borderline speeding so you wouldn’t show up late. curse you for falling asleep for too long. everything about it screamed gojo, from the color to the model (appropriately flashy for a very flashy guy). it’s not your kind of car by any means.

you grab megumi’s backpack while he clambers into the backseat, hopping up onto the booster seat placed on the right. the bright orange flames decorating the fabric is a pretty strong indicator that gojo bought this thing without consulting megumi. handing him back his backpack, you climb into the driver’s seat.

the drive is a lot more peaceful when you’re not racing against traffic lights and skating just under the speed limit. you think of the last time you were in this car—it was too long ago for you to be able to recall.

stopped at a red light, you allow your eyes to wander a bit and explore the front dash. gojo’s placed a small cat figurine in the corner, but aside from that, his car lacks much personality. the only other decorative piece he’s got is a small keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. 

you eye it carefully, wondering why the fraying twine and colorful beads seem so familiar to you. it takes you some time to remember the bracelet you had gifted gojo years ago, in fourth grade. you had spent recess with some other friends of yours, making friendship bracelets. when you went to give gojo the bracelet you made for him, you were met with petty hostility.

he had been upset because you had ditched him, but his grievances were quickly forgotten as soon as you handed over his gift. he wore it every single day until he couldn’t anymore. when you asked about it, satoru explained that the bracelet had come apart. you weren’t surprised: he wore it way too much and that thing was holding on thanks to a flimsy knot you put together as a chubby fingered nine-year-old.

you hadn’t expected him to keep it after that, let alone turn it into a keychain to hang in his car. 

the fact that he had held onto it even after all these years makes your heart flip in a way that you know is dangerous. tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you focus back on driving. 

once you’re back in the apartment, you decide to get started on making megumi some kind of snack to tide him over until dinner rolls around. you watch him rummage around in his backpack, walking over to you with a piece of paper in his hand. 

he tugs on your apron, handing you the paper without a single word of explanation. from a quick glance, you gather that it’s a drawing and you grin, “this is so cute, megumi!”

sure, you didn’t really see it yet, but he doesn’t need to know that. you have to foster creativity in children when they’re young in any way you can, even if it means lying sometimes.

you set aside some strawberries to dice, making a mental note to put the picture up on the fridge. gojo has an abundance of random magnets from all the places he’s visited; might as well put them to good use. 

when you grab the drawing off the counter, really take a look at what’s on it, you almost can’t believe it. for a moment, you wonder if you’re simply projecting your twisted hopes onto this kid’s art piece. 

megumi’s decided to draw himself, standing with his brows furrowed, next to a very long man who you can only assume to be gojo, judging by the white hair and sunglasses. on megumi’s left, is someone in a blue sweater, shorter than gojo. it’s you.

there was clearly an attempt at drawing hands that fell apart into a jumble of squiggles but you get the idea: they’re all holding hands. at the top of the drawing, in large messy handwriting is the title.

“my family.”

megumi runs up to the counter, eyeing you carefully as you take in the drawing. you’re struck with the sudden urge to confess to gojo, convince him to make this boy’s vision a reality. you think he deserves that much.

but your heart aches in a way it never has before—filled with this dreadful yearning for a man you know will never look at you the way you look at him. 

the whispers in the back of your mind come together and someone flickers to life, like the flame appearing from a lighter.

“this is beautiful, megumi,” you whisper, sticking it onto the fridge with a magnet advertising vegas. something malicious squeezes around your lungs, digging it’s claws into your heart but you gulp back the pain. 

megumi is none the wiser, nodding in agreement and waiting patiently for you to hand him his snack. he runs off, taking a seat on the couch and you watch him eat, realizing how sickeningly domestic this whole scene is. 

you hate it. 

hours pass unceremoniously. gojo barges in with a slam of the front door, practically shouting at the top of his lungs.

“there they are, my two favorite people!” he grins, kicking off his shoes. you close your laptop, leaving it on the couch as you get up just in time to dodge gojo’s hug. he stumbles forward onto the couch where you were sitting previously.

while he grumbles about evil you are, you decide to grab the picture megumi brought home. once again, you’re struck by how domestic your actions are, and you hesitate. 

gojo, however, is already making his way over to you, holding megumi captive in his arms. “what’s that?” he asks with a nod of his head.

you turn it around, holding it up to show him and you watch carefully as his eyes flicker from person to person. his grin falls into a gentle smile, somewhat guarded, and he uses his free hand to take the picture from you.

megumi takes this opportunity to launch himself out of gojo’s grasp, scurrying off to his room. you eyes follow him as he disappears behind a wall. when you bring your attention back to gojo, he’s stepped closer to you.

his stare is intense, unwavering, and it directly contrasts with the amused smile he wears. you don’t know what to think—in fact, you can barely think at all. the air is thick with tension, it presses down on your chest until you can barely breathe. 

“it’s a perfect family, don’t you think?” he asks, his gaze softening as he looks down at the drawing. the atmosphere shifts but you still feel breathless, filled with this ache to wrap yourself around him. 

“yeah, it is,” you say, ever so quietly because you’re scared that anything louder would break this feeling. he’s so close, you could close the gap and kiss him right now. 

there’s a crash, a large stack of books laying on the floor, papers scattered everywhere. megumi stands next to it, eyes wide and terrified. his small hands curl into little fists and he takes a deep breath. “didn’t mean to. sorry.”

“it’s okay, megumi,” you reply, swiftly moving to his side. the moment is forgotten, the kiss never shared. “it was an accident.”

he nods, but he stares at you with watery eyes and your heart breaks. scooping him up and into your arms, you walk him out onto the balcony. he tries not to cry, you let him know that it’s okay if he wants to. 

gojo remains standing in the kitchen, the drawing still in his hands. he stares at it for a long while, letting his mind wander to a world where it’s more than just a little kid’s silly drawing.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you shove the last of your shirts into your suitcase, frowning at the way it bulges out when you zip it shut. it’s the week of christmas, four days before the actual holiday, but you’re only just leaving to go back home. 

megumi’s on break, so is gojo, so you’re not really needed. you wish you were—you miss both of them.

setting the suitcase upright, you go down your checklist of things, making sure you packed everything. you still haven’t mentally prepared to see your extended family, knowing they’ll be chasing after you with questions about your dating life.

‘have you gotten a boyfriend yet?’ 

‘can we expect an engagement soon?’ 

‘any plans for kids?’

it’s all horrible and invasive and you don’t get why any of that matters to them at all. it’s your life, your choices. if you’re not bringing it up yourself, there’s no need to hound you about it every single time you see them.

your phone buzzes in your pocket from a message, and you’re unsurprised to see that it’s from gojo.

gojo 🤑: hey bbg 😳

you: kys  what do u want

gojo 🤑: what are ur christmas plans 🤔

you furrow your brows at the question, wondering why he asked at all. every single year, you always do the same thing.

you: going home…. what else would i be doing genius

gojo 🤑: LAMEEEEE i was gonna ask if u wanted to come over ig but whatever u hate me 😢😢😢

you finish off the conversation, letting him know that you do hate him, and that you need to get back to packing.

knowing his circumstances, you know that gojo is probably staying at home with megumi. he can’t exactly weasel his way out of explaining the fact that he’s managed to adopt a kid. it’s most likely why he asked if you had plans, despite knowing that you do. you know he’s probably feeling lonely—it makes your heart twist and tear. 

you fight the urge to ask him to join you as you drive home.

on megumi’s birthday, gojo proposes that you facetime him. you agree, obviously wanting to see the little boy who’s become so precious to you so quickly. the first thing megumi does upon seeing your face is frown. 

“leave your family. i don’t like gojo.”

you burst into laughter at the sight of your best friend’s face, jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and offense. gojo launches into a rant about how megumi is ungrateful, which only makes the situation funnier. 

megumi, however, finds none of this amusing.

“i love you, megumi,” you say between breaths, “happy birthday!”

“whatever,” he grumbles, but you catch a glimpse of his cheeks reddening as he runs off, leaving you with a still offended gojo.

you watch him shuffle around, propping up his phone against something. “what’s your secret, huh? what do you have that i don’t?”

“i’m just better.”

your smile must be infectious, gojo ditching his deep frown for a grin of his own. his eyes crinkle as you’re met with the whites of his teeth, cheeks bunching up. you can’t stand the effect he has on you, the way you melt into nothing the moment he looks your way.

“i guess you and megumi are just perfect for each other,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze through the call. “it’s cute.”

you’re stunned into silence at his genuine words, and your heart wrenches painfully as you picture the drawing megumi came home with. gojo ends the call quickly, telling you he’s busy. you don’t believe it but you let him leave, allowing yourself some space from him as well.

at one point, he frantically texts you letting you know that he forgot to get megumi a gift, begging for ideas. 

gojo 🤑: I CANRT FINF HIS CHRISARMAS LIADT ANWWER ME THIAS IS AN EMERGYE SOS 🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘

you:  OMFG DO U HAVE AN OFF SWITCH have u tried his room.

gojo 🤑: omg look at u my little genius 🥰

you stare at his messages, finding yourself wishing for his emoji keyboard to glitch out and break. the next text he sends you is a picture of megumi’s wish list. you’re fairly certain that megumi doesn’t believe in santa, but it’s cute that he’s written a list anyway.

they’re all fairly normal: art supplies, animal books, toys you’ve never heard of. but what sticks out is the last bullet point, written neatly. 

gojo 🤑: he wants u to be his family  quick wrap urself up with a bow and mail urself to us 🎁 u would make a cute present 😘😘😘

you disregard gojo’s texts for the time being, focused entirely on megumi’s last wish. the fact that you appeared at all is shocking, considering the fact that you’ve only known him for a little over a week. 

you: yeah i’m wrapping myself up rn

gojo 🤑: pics or it didnt happen 😋

you scoff out a laugh, typing up your response. your mind is still dwindling on the wish list, on megumi in general. he’s quickly taken up residence inside your heart and it feels good to know that you’ve been able to do the same. 

christmas passes slowly, filled with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon spice and heart-warming laughter. of course, you didn’t escape the questions from your extended family. as usual, you brushed them off, eager to get out of the only conversation they seem to want with you.

but you like christmas, and this year, it’s made better by the several pictures gojo’s been sending you of him and megumi. in one, they’re ice-skating. in another, they’re making a gingerbread house. it’s all typical christmas activities but it warms your heart and you want nothing more than to be there with them.

you expect the rest of your holiday break to slip by, nothing special or new. you debated heading home earlier, but decided against it assuming most of your friends already have their respective plans. 

you weren’t expecting gojo to invite you to his new year’s party. in fact, you weren’t expecting him to hold a party at all. as much as he likes parties, gojo’s never one to throw one, especially at his place. 

in retrospect, going was probably a bad idea. if only you knew that before you agreed. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

this kind of party is one you’re entirely unfamiliar with.

most of the parties you’ve attended never exceeded over ten people, small gatherings of close friends clearing out their busy schedules to hang out together once again like they used to. these kinds of parties are relaxed, you don’t have to dress up, you don’t have to put up a front.

this new year’s party is the kind that coaxes you into a simple black dress, perhaps too short, perhaps too low cut. this kind of party paints your lips a dark berry color that transfers onto your cup, filled with alcohol that burns as it slides down your throat.

this kind of party plays music so loud, it crawls under your skin, seeping into your head. you feel the bass reverberate throughout your chest, forcing your heart to beat faster like adrenaline coursing through your veins.

to say you feel out of element would be a gross understatement. everyone around you is almost a stranger, wearing features you only vaguely recognize, enough for you to shoot them a smile and a nod as a greeting. 

you examine your hands as you stand leaning against a wall, watching people dance, laugh, shout. you’ve hidden yourself away in the dark (rather pathetic, you think), not knowing how to engage and not really wanting to either. 

“i figured you’d be in some corner,” a gentle hand touches your elbow as shoko squeezes herself past a small group of people to stand next to you.

you smile at her, grateful to find at least one familiar face. “you must not know me at all, shoko, i love dancing with sweaty strangers.” your sarcasm isn’t lost on her and she lets out a laugh, taking a drag from her cigarette. 

you’re surprised that gojo even let her smoke inside, but part of you feels like he’s unaware she’s doing it at all. 

she blows out, tendrils of smoke twisting around you both, invading your senses. shoko looks at you out of the corner of her eye, somewhat relaxed, very curious. “you’re still in love with gojo?”

you blanch at her words, turning to face her though she remains, still regarding you through her peripheral. 

“you’re too easy to read,” she smiles, her posture curved, allowing her to relax against the wall. “i’m surprised you’ve gone this long without telling him.”

it’s probably the alcohol impairing your judgment, but you frown, sighing into your cup. “my alternative is losing him forever, so i can’t exactly be picky.” you don’t intend on letting her into your thoughts this way, even if it’s only a sliver of the way you feel. 

it would’ve been better to brush her off with a joke. shoko doesn’t seem to care, humming, “ i don’t know, i think you’d be in for a surprise.”

“well, i hate surprises.”

time flies by but the night remains young. you’ve loosened up a bit thanks to the alcohol, laughing freely, no longer worried about your attire. your two person party in the corner steadily grew, nanami and geto joining you after some time. 

gojo is still missing, but you suspect he’s out being a good host.

you’ve laid your head on shoko’s shoulders, laughing at nanami recounting stories from the tutoring he’s been busy with. geto stands to your left, reaching out a hand towards you whenever you stumble slightly. 

your cup is empty and you make no moves to fill it again, not wanting to exit the good conversation you’re having. you like hearing nanami talk about his work, hearing shoko complain about her lab partner, and hearing geto’s jokes. 

the four of you decide to get some food in an attempt to sober up. it’s then that gojo finally shows up. the crowd parts for him like he’s someone important. thanks to the effects of the alcohol wearing off, you can tell it’s because he’s shouting his way through the crowd. 

“why are you losers hiding from the party?” he asks, shooting shoko a glare when she takes a drag of her cigarette. she simply blinks at him, making no move to throw it out. 

“not hiding,” you respond, opening your mouth to bite down on the slice of pizza geto’s trying to feed you. “just eating.” your words come out muffled thanks to the food. geto shuffles his chair closer to your side.

gojo lets his gaze settle on you, lips slightly parted as his eyes wander, taking in your dress and your half-opaque lipstick. you think you see his eyes widen, you can’t be sure. you think you see him almost gulp. you can’t be sure. 

gojo reluctantly tears his stare away from you, watching his friend closely, jaw clenched. his anger is only invisible to you, the sight causing shoko to laugh (she marvels at your idiocy often). he grabs a chair and pushes it up right next to yours on the opposite side, arms crossed. 

he sits silently, glaring at you and geto, though you hardly notice. you’re too engrossed in whatever story geto’s telling you. he reaches over to brush some hair out of your eyes; gojo stands up abruptly, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“actually, i have some important news to tell you,” he says, words short and succinct as he drags you away from the table. 

you’re too confused to stop him from pulling you all the way to the hallway that opens up into his bedroom. it’s only then that you wriggle free from his grip, staring at him, wondering what his problem is.

“what’re you–”

your back is pressed against the wall, he stands a few steps in front of you. he’s breathing hard and his eyes are blown wide and you wonder who this man is—the worry creasing his forehead makes him seem lightyears away from the satoru you know. 

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, the sentence stumbling out of his mouth like he wasn’t quite ready to say it. gojo doesn’t give you the chance to answer him, already talking once again. 

“do you like suguru?” he asks, taking a few steps closer, until he’s a hair’s width away from you. 

the question is so out of left field, you’re forced to take a moment and process it. gojo’s gaze hardens at your silence, and you stave off the urge to make a joke out of this situation. uncertainty makes your stomach churn—you’ve yet to see your best friend like this.

there’s a crease between his brows, lips downturned but not quite a frown. his words still hang heavy in the air, broken jealousy rearing its ugly head. his hand loosens around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull away.

you take a deep breath, feeling like you’ve taken in all the air left between you and him. “no. no, i don’t,” you whisper, heart beating so fast you almost expect the muscle to burst within your chest. 

your admission makes his shoulders drop, the tense atmosphere almost melting away altogether. gojo tightens his fingers around your wrist once more, bridging the gap between you both. he hovers above you, his free hand placed against the wall as he cages you against it. 

despite the years you’ve known him, sometimes you find it so hard to read him, understand his motivations. gojo leans close, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“so you just really like being mean to me,” he mutters and you furrow your brows, gnawing at your bottom lip. 

“i haven’t said one mean thing to you all night, satoru,” you say quietly, eyes downcast, avoiding his attentive stare. his eyes, as blue as the sky, still shimmer in the dark and you watch from beneath your lashes as they shift to a dulled luster. 

gojo drops his head into the crook of your neck, you can feel his lips move against your skin as he speaks, “there’s more than one way to be mean.” 

your breath is caught in your throat. he’s running his nose up your neck, smearing a kiss below your jaw. your lack of resistance only emboldens him further and he kisses the same spot once again.

and you let him, gulping back the unpleasant feelings that float to the tip of your tongue because who are you to ruin this? on another night, you might have untangled yourself from him, walking away and creating necessary distance between you both.

but he’s exactly where you want him, where you’ve been longing for him. 

so tonight, you simply mutter his name in warning, your voice cracking softly as he slides his hand around your waist. his touch burns, it's as though the material of your dress simply doesn’t exist under the weight of his palm. 

gojo presses his mouth to your ear. when he speaks, he sounds so resigned, almost like the woman that sits in your mind, taunting you with the possibility of everything unraveling. she licks at your wounds and her breath burns.

“i feel so…stupid when it comes to you,” he rasps out, pulling you closer. “you drive me crazy and i don’t know what to do–” he cuts himself off before he gets too deep into his rambling. anticipation steadily rises up your chest, higher and higher and higher.

“it’s always been you,” gojo says, letting you see his face once more. he leans over you, simply staring, the loud music fading away until it’s nothing but a beat behind the incessant thrum of your heart. 

the woman makes herself apparent, hiding just behind your eyes, her words piercing your skin.

you gather the courage to really look at him, ignoring the way the woman in your head sighs, telling you it’s not worth it—telling you it’ll hurt. she tells you it’s only going to ache, and tear, and rip apart. you shake her away. his eyes have you trapped in them, drowning in his blue, your hands wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. he doesn’t waver, shifting his gaze down to your lips.

“i love you,” he breathes out, his words so full of promise you nearly believe it. but then you remember where you are, you remember what you’ve been doing.

your hands rest on his shoulders, feeling the cotton material of his shirt under your fingertips. “you can’t mean that,” you reply in a whisper. 

the woman in your head shrieks at you until her voice turns hoarse and raw. you grab the collar of his shirt, closing the gap, your lips meeting his. gojo fists the silk of your dress, creasing the material against his palm. your trembling hand brushes along his cheek and he chases after your touch, tilting his head to the side, nose bumping against yours. he’s presses you into the wall, your spine meeting the cold plaster as goosebumps erupt down your arms. 

the woman shouts, the woman regrets. the woman tells you you’re making a mistake but she’s inevitably drowned out by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. gojo brings his hand up to your jaw, fingers squeezing desperately. his kiss is all tongue and teeth, he steals your breath away.

a fire festers in the pit of your stomach, it’s flames fueled by his touch, his warmth, everything him. it curls into a burning in your chest. insatiable greed drives gojo to take you into his arms, your feet stumbling against each other’s as you make your way into his room. 

your back hits his comforter, you pull him closer.

the woman sits silently and weeps.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you wake up with a dull pounding behind your eyes and a painful silence inside your mind. warmth envelops you as you twist and turn under gojo’s heavy blankets—it’s reminiscent of an earlier time. 

beams of sunlight force your eyes open and you prop yourself up, elbows sinking into gojo’s expensive mattress. cradling your head in your hand, you take in your surroundings: the stark white sheets, gojo’s sleeping figure next to you.

you watch him sleep for several moments, marveling at the fact that gojo is asleep at all. he’s always had trouble with insomnia, seeing him rest so peacefully makes you smile. 

you let your gaze sweep over his face, pressed into the pillow, messy hair obscuring his eyes. his shoulders are bare, and if last time taught you anything, it’s that gojo has no problem with appearing borderline naked in front of you.

scoffing, you turn to check the nightstand for your phone, pausing when a cold draft seems to linger over your arms and chest a bit stronger than usual. a pile of fabric resting against the mahogany floors catches your eye, and you stare at it blankly before everything begins to fall into place.

your fragmented memories connect, the night floods back to you, knocking the air from your lungs.

your dress on the floor, the very obvious smear of berry colored lipstick against his jaw. your incredibly apparent lack of clothing.

panic digs into your chest. the woman comes into view once more, her unwavering gaze staring at you with contempt. she crawls out of your chest, standing before you, several heads taller.

‘you messed everything up,’ she seethes. your heart beats faster. ‘he’ll never want to see you again,’ she says, her words stinging like a slap. it becomes harder to breathe. 

you don’t stick around to see what else she has to say, grabbing your dress off the floor with shaky hands. you pull it back on messily, grabbing your phone, rushing out of his bedroom as tears cling to your lashes.

thankfully, everyone seems to have cleared out of the apartment.

you don’t allow yourself to think, opening up the front door, rushing down the stairwell until you’re standing in the lobby of his apartment building. it’s too cold—they always crank up the air conditioning even if it’s the middle of winter. 

the lady behind the desk looks at you with pity. you suppress the urge to vomit. tears stream down your cheeks, trailing along your chin before they fall. you know you must look a mess. you wonder where else you left your berry colored lips. 

you call shoko; she’s hungover when she picks up but she hears the pain in your voice and she hears you bite back your tears. she’ll be there soon, she promises and you stand, waiting. 

you sit in her car, staring out the window. she tries to make you feel better by playing your favorite songs—it doesn’t do much to help. the song reminds you of megumi. 

the thought of megumi sends you spiraling further. how can you face megumi after this? how can you face gojo? he might not remember, but you always will. you’ll always remember the warmth of his hands, the way he held you near like you were everything. 

the woman tells you you’re sick.

shoko eyes you, taking in your tear-stained face. you don’t want her pity either, digging your nails into your palm as hard as you can. she’s stopped at a red light and she reaches over to take your hand in hers.

“you have to figure out where you both stand,” she says, calm and rational as always. sometimes, you wish she could see things the way you do. you wish she could hear the woman who haunts you. 

“i know,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the seat. the car starts moving again. “i don’t want to.” your stomach churns, an awful mixture of anxiety and hurt rolling up your throat. 

you slept with gojo.

you feel sick. the woman slices at you with her knives. ‘you don’t deserve him at all.’

shoko white knuckles the steering wheel. she never takes kindly to your tears, it took you a while to figure out that it’s because she cares too much to see you cry. 

“you should confess. it’ll be good for your heart and mind,” she suggests as you see your apartment come into view. you’re not ready to be left alone with the woman. the cuts from her knives are still fresh, they still bleed.

you shake your head ever so slightly. “no,” you reply, selfishness motivating your choices more than anything. “i’m going to pretend i don’t remember—i’ll act like i was too drunk to remember.”

shoko disagrees with you, and she lets you know as much as she can before you’re getting out of her car, walking towards your apartment. your dress feels too short, you tug it down. the sunlight burns your scalp and you rush indoors.

as soon as you kick off your heels, gojo texts you. your phone is nearly dead and you debate putting off responding, excusing yourself with the fact that your phone ran out of power. you grow too curious, though, and you read his message.

gojo 🤑: hey when did u get home?

the striking lack of emojis makes the text feel impersonal, far from the man you know. the woman laughs at you.

‘he hates you.’

you:  shoko picked me up 

you pause, debating whether you should add more. let him know that you don’t remember, let him know that you believe nothing happened.

you: i rly went overboard on the alcohol ig  i barely remember anything 

you watch the bubble indicating he’s typing appear and disappear. your nerves fizzle and buzz, teeth sinking into your lips until you draw blood. ‘he hates you,’ the woman whispers.

gojo 🤑: yeah me too lol

you hate it. 

you’re reading into it too much, you think, but the woman says no. her lithe fingers encircle your arms, her sadness turning you sick. you agonize over your words, agonize over his texts. you can’t face gojo. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to see megumi again.

‘you’re selfish,’ the woman sneers, watching you tremble. ‘do you think you deserve to see him?’

‘what would he think of you?’

‘you’ve lost both of them.’

‘you should’ve listened to me.’

you don’t know what to say to her. she draws her arm back and strikes you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

the following day, gojo informs you that megumi asked for you to babysit him. 

you had decided you would say no, for your own sake. the woman agreed so it must be the right choice. but then he tells you that megumi’s insisting—that he misses you—and how can you say no?

so you sit on the couch, right next to megumi as he reads from his new book (a christmas present from gojo). he’s laying against you, his head resting against your arm. neither you, nor gojo, have said a single word to each other.

it feels wrong, this silence that fills the room. it feels heavy. it keeps its palms pressed tightly against your lips, keeping your words trapped inside. you wonder if megumi can feel it too.

reaching over, you gently brush some of his hair out of his eyes and he stills, turning around to look up at you. his eyes are wide, they waver as they flicker between you and gojo.

“did you guys fight?”

you notice the way he wraps his arms around himself, as if to soothe. he takes a long breath. megumi’s eyes widen and you realize that he’s scared.

you rush to explain, “no! no, we didn’t fight.” he doesn’t seem to believe you; gojo walks over to you both, taking a seat next to him. 

“we’re just tired, megumi,” he tells him, a hand rubbing circles into his back. you feel terrible. 

‘this is all your fault,’ the woman whispers. 

it’s silent again as gojo shuffles around, getting ready to leave for his model UN meeting. he stands at the doorway, looking at you for a moment. you can’t read him, he doesn’t explain. gojo waves goodbye and leaves.

you watch megumi read for a few minutes more, the aftertaste of the previous conversation still lingering on your tongue. he must feel your stare, looking up from his book.

“you’re my favorite person ever,” he admits, he sounds completely serious. you’re taken aback by his honesty, your heart melting as a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth. you reach forward, opening your arms out for a hug. megumi quickly wraps his arms around you.

his hands cling to the fabric of your shirt, “if you did fight with gojo, please forgive him. don’t leave.”

‘look what you’ve done,’ the woman says, the weight of her words make you feel like you’re drowning. 

“i won’t leave you,” you reply, ignoring the woman and her hurt. megumi looks back at you, holding out his pinky for you. you wrap your own around his much smaller one, “pinky promise.”

you let him rest his head against your chest, your steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep. the woman reminds you how undeserving you are of what you have. you know the woman is right. 

when gojo gets home, he asks if you’d like to stay for dinner. every single part of you wants to say yes, and it’s at the tip of your tongue, the answer is habitual. but this time, you turn him down. you can’t stay longer—you can’t be around him. you slip out the front door before you can see the twinkle in his eyes diminish until it’s gone. 

you get home, lay on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, and call shoko. she tells you to confess or die. you tell her you’d rather die.

‘it would be for the best,’ the woman snickers. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

there’s a growing tension between you and gojo as of late, clearly the result of what happened at the new year’s party. you keep on acting as though you don’t remember the way he loved you, but it gets harder to do so the more you see him.

you can’t avoid him, you’d be breaking your promise to megumi.

everything left unsaid lingers in the distance you keep with him, and it unsheathes it’s claws, digging into you and tearing you apart. your relationship with gojo is strained. it hurts because he’s your best friend.

the woman reminds you that there’s no one to blame but yourself.

she hasn’t left you alone since the night of the party, tied to you like some kind of curse. she appears in the mirror when you criticize yourself, egging you on to say worse things. she stands by your side when you make a mistake, degrading you until you feel like nothing.

she’s having the time of her life. you just can’t get rid of her. she’s right about you.

this time, as you stand waiting for megumi, his school is decorated in a plethora of pinks, reds, and whites. valentine’s day is swiftly approaching and it fills you with a kind of bitterness you keep hidden. 

cupid’s arrows might have missed you this year, but there’s always the next.

part of you realizes that it’s your own fault, waiting for gojo to step up and say something. when that failed you, you waited for your feelings to disappear. perhaps, you should have taken some initiative, forced those feelings out of you until every last remaining bit is ripped from your heart.

your loneliness is your own doing. the woman laughs in agreement, your pain is nothing but a joke to her. her laughter, however, is hollow and doesn't meet her eyes.

megumi runs up to you as he often does, pulling you from your thoughts. the woman hides away to watch. he hands you a little heart shaped box and a card. 

“happy valentine’s day,” megumi grumbles, walking off ahead of you to get to the car. you smile down at the chocolates and the handmade card. something tender and sweet fills up your chest—you feel lighthearted. 

‘do you deserve this?’ the woman snarls, reaching out to knock your gifts out of your hands. you hold them away from her poisonous touch.

megumi holds onto your index finger as you lead him up the stairwell, up to gojo’s apartment. you’re surprised to find him inside instead of at class, like he should be. he grins at you and megumi as you both walk inside, his eyes dropping to the card and chocolates in your hand.

you watch as he stands up, stretching his arms up. his shirt rides up around his waist, you turn away faster than light.

“you got her something for valentine’s but nothing for your old man?” he asks, grabbing megumi so that he can plant a kiss on the boy’s chubby cheek.

“you suck and she doesn’t.”

“you are so cruel.”

your relationship with gojo remains rocky, but times like these still make you yearn for that domestic life. sometime in the future, you hope you get to have this. 

gojo lets megumi disappear into his room, watching you sink into the couch. he follows suit, sitting down next to you. he leaves too much space between you, like there’s an invisible wall keeping him out. 

“valentine’s day is coming up,” he says, though you don’t know what for. you want to say that you know, that it doesn’t matter to you unless you’re spending the day with him. 

“yeah, but why would i care?” you reply, laughing though the sound comes out bitter and hurt. he grins at you, tilting his head. 

“who knows? maybe you have a secret admirer.”

you stay quiet for a moment, thinking about what he had said. secret admirer or not, you’re confident it wouldn’t be the person you want. gojo has better things to do, probably has someone to see. what would he want with you?

why would he even look your way? you’re his best friend—that’s where you have remained for 14 years and it’s where you’ll remain for as long as you know him.

the woman sits to your left, reaching out her hand to smooth down your hair. her gesture appears comforting but anxiety swirls deep within you at her touch.

‘don’t let him know how you feel,’ she whispers in warning.

“so? i don’t care. i don’t like anyone right now, a secret admirer would mean nothing to me.”

“oh.”

you face him then, taking in the soft frown he wears. his jaw is clenched, brows furrowed. the blue of his eyes, your favorite blue, lacks it’s usual sparkle. his shoulders hunched over; gojo looks like a wounded animal. he looks tired. 

as soon as he notices your stare, he straightens up and gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. he stays quiet for the rest of the night and you can’t help but feel it’s your fault. you remind yourself he’s tired, but the woman tells you that he must have remembered the events from the party. 

you leave his house sooner than you would have liked. gojo says goodbye with a hug, his arms squeezing your tight, pressing you to his chest until you can hear his heart beating. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you feel like valentine’s day crept up on you too quickly, like you had blinked and suddenly the world is celebrating their lovers. 

it’s sunny and warm, the usual chill of february replaced with a gentle breeze that feels soft against your cheek and in your hair. like it’s mother nature’s gentle caress letting you know that you’ll be fine today.

the woman stays quiet. 

you walk along the sidewalk in front of your apartment building. you had woken up today expecting something at you front door, perhaps from a secret admirer like gojo had suggested. nothing came.

it left a bitter taste in your mouth, your chest tightening, but you got over it as fast as it came. you refuse to fester in hurt, even if the woman fans the flames of your pain.

blinking up at the sun, you watch the old couple across the street walk arm in arm. the old man had gotten his wife a bouquet of her favorite flowers (you know they’re her favorite because she told you so). she’s wearing a new heart pendant around her neck. their hands remain intertwined as they head down. 

you silently plead for your chance at love. 

today, megumi’s spending the day at nanami’s house, along with a few of the kids he tutors. you’ve been absolved of your babysitting responsibilities. you miss the little boy, though.

you’re only a few minutes into your walk when you phone buzzes with a text from gojo.

gojo 🤑: ur not busy today right?????? lets go for a drive bbg 😉

you:  i wish i never met you.

you hardly mean it. rather, you’re incredibly relieved that he’s back to his usual self, using horrible emojis to spice up his texts. you hate to admit it but you missed him. 

maybe you were pathetic for spending valentine’s day with your crush, a man who remains just out of your reach. you don’t dwell on it as you climb into gojo’s car, even when the woman bares her teeth at you.

gojo plays sickeningly romantic music as he drives, making fun of you for spending valentine’s day with him instead of a boyfriend. you’re quick to remind him that he’s in the same position. he falls silent but you notice that the shine in his sky blue eyes are back. you hope, this time, that it’s here to stay. 

he parks a few feet away from a playground, the structures old and somewhat rusty. you realize that it’s the playground where you both first met each other. 

gojo runs over to your side, opening the door for you. he walks next to you, his shoulder brushing yours, your fingers aching to be held by him. you let him pull you to the spot where his mother took a picture of both of you 14 years ago. 

it’s certainly strange being back here.

you hear him take a deep breath. gojo’s facing forward, seemingly entranced by the swing-set in front of him. you don’t take notice of his shaky hands. 

“you were the prettiest girl i had ever seen,” he says finally, breathing deeply once again. “actually– i thought you were the prettiest girl in the whole world.”

“what are you talking about?” you ask with a soft laugh, utterly confused as to what he’s up to. gojo doesn’t respond, he just keeps going.

“i ran into you on purpose, if i’m being honest. i thought we could become friends and then i’d get to be around you all the time.” 

gojo reaches out his hand, hesitating as he thinks. the woman stays quiet when he takes your hand in his own. “but then you basically told me to fuck off–”

“i did not! i said go away or something.”

“thats basically what kids say when they want to say ‘fuck off’!”

he laughs, the sound warming your heart. soft tendrils of sun peek through the canopy of the tree you stand under, making him glow and shine. he appears almost ethereal. 

“i was glad we got to be friends,” he mutters, his grip around your fingers getting tighter. “but nowadays, i kind of wish we weren’t.” your heart stills and the woman opens her mouth for the first time today, conjuring up her ugly words.

“you’re still the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen,” gojo admits, his hand growing clammy but you barely notice it. “you’ll stay that way for the rest of my life—even when we’re old and wrinkly.”

“how sweet,” you grin, but it’s a front to hide the way he tugs at your heart, gentle hands keeping you in his grasp; it’s where you’ll stay for as long as he’ll have you. however, you still find yourself to be guarded, hesitant about gojo and his words.

the woman tells you it’s not what you think it is. her past misfortunes flood your mind, her sadness is contagious.

gojo finally faces you, taking both your hands in his. his eyes watch you carefully and you wonder if he can see through them, see the woman waiting inside, hurt and scared. 

“i know you said you don’t have feelings for anyone,” he starts, looking to the side. you can feel his heart beating at his fingertips. “and i’m probably the last person you want to hear this from, but i owe it to you.

“i love you,” he sighs and it feels like taking a breath of relief. gojo searches your eyes, vivid cerulean brighter than the sun itself. you reach forward, hands on either side of his face. you tremble and you shake—you can’t believe this is real.

he seems to understand, instinctively letting his hands rest against your hips. 

“love you too,” you say, unadulterated joy lighting up your chest and your eyes. your smile is blinding, cheeks hiding your eyes. gojo steps closer while he pulls you against his chest. his heart is racing, but it could be your own that you’re feeling. you’re not quite sure where he ends and you begin. 

he cups your cheek, his touch soft and light. “can i kiss you now? i haven’t stopped thinking about it since the party.”

you tense at the mention of the party, but you nod your head and shove that night out of your mind. you can shelve that conversation for later. 

gojo leans forward with your nod, pulling you towards him. your lips meet, gently at first, like you’re both unsure of how to go about it. he’s hesitant without alcohol to grant him courage, but as you wrap your arms around his neck, he grows bolder.

gojo pours every last bit of his desire for you, his yearning for you, past his lips. you can feel him grin, and it pulls a smile from you too. 

you have him exactly where you want him.

when you return home, hand in hand, megumi perks up at the sight of you both. geto sits next to him, assigned to pick him up from nanami’s place after gojo decided to meet up with you.

geto raises an eyebrow at your hand held tightly in gojo’s, your head resting against his shoulder. “what did i miss?”

“nothing at all,” you reply, holding out an arm for megumi as he runs into your embrace.

the woman simply smiles.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

gojo watches you sleep, chest rising and falling steadily, your soft breaths being the only sound in the room. he sits and he admires and he’s struck with the overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms. gojo wishes he could tell you everything he feels for you, but his emotions are often illegible jumbles of yearning, want, desire, and love—he just can’t put it into words.

he knows you’re it for him. he hopes you feel the same.

gojo leans over and grabs the plastic water bottle left on his nightstand, the plastic crinkling. he winces, hoping it’s not loud enough to wake you. you remain sleeping and he smiles, fishing the small ring of plastic from the top of the bottle. 

it’s big, the real one will be tailored to your size, he thinks as he takes your hand. his touch is gentle as he slides the plastic ring onto your ring finger, watching it hang loosely.

“this’ll do for now,” he decides. the real one will be much prettier, but not grand. a shiny band with a few rhinestones– no, your birthstone. maybe his too but he feels that might be too tacky.

gojo lays back down, curling around you until his head is hidden in the crook of your neck. he hopes you’ll like it. he hopes you’ll say yes. 

he’s always loved you. for him, it’s always been you. 

thanks to mitzi and earth and six for hyping this monstrosity up so glad its not rotting away in my drafts anymore

onsen incident  — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo satoru gets everything he wants and right now he really wants to go to an onsen with you.

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he's just a cute loser, highschool!gojo (first year), he needs to be locked up asap

notes. this is part ii to indulge me? and a piece in the series, but can be read alone.

you’re not sure how you ended up here. one moment you were exorcizing a grade one curse that rampaged a small town with gojo and now you find yourself back at the ryokan you had stayed at the prior night. except this time around you have an overly excited gojo, still at a high from the successful mission.

“suguru mentioned how nice the onsens here were,” he brings up innocently, his lips curving into a sly grin. you spare him a side glance. 

“we should be heading back to the airport to return to tokyo,” you asserted, eyes trained on the entrance of the onsen— a wooden paneled door leading to the private hot spring that came with the room you and gojo had unknowingly reserved. 

gojo stretched leisurely, his body arched like a cat as he yawns, “i don’t know about you but i’m beat! that curse wore out all my energy and a quick dip in an onsen is just what this body needs.” he opens one eye, gauging your reaction.

you don’t buy his act. “you exorcised the curse instantaneously, gojo.”

but gojo doesn’t back down easily, “yeah, well that took up a lot of cursed energy and now i’m drained,” he reasons. the white haired male solidifies his argument by collapsing on you just to show how fatigued he was. his dramatic show nearly sends you tumbling.

annoyance simmered in you, arms folding over your chest. the flight back to tokyo was in a couple of hours, and you had hoped to be able to go sightseeing. 

but gojo’s sky-blue eyes plead silently as they look up at you, unblinking. his pink lips start to quiver. it was hard to deny him when he was basically begging. as comical as his dramatics were, you could almost argue how hard it was to resist his unwavering gaze. plus, he was the one that completed the mission singlehandedly.  

“fine.” you yielded. “thirty minutes and then we leave.”

he perks up happily.

“great! let’s go!” without wasting a moment, he seizes your hand and practically skips to the entrance. 

you recoiled, nearly shrieking, “you pervert! i’m not going in there with you! i’m going to go sightseeing.” 

gojo looks at you like you’ve sprouted two heads.

“... then what’s the point of the onsen?” he looked at you incredulously. it deeply troubled you that someone so conniving could look so innocent.

your response is caught in your throat, leaving you flustered and unable to make eye contact. arms remained crossed, you mutter, “you’re insane if you think i’m stepping foot in an onsen with you.”

gojo’s tongue prodded at his cheek, lost in thought, “they do say you have to be insane to be a jujutsu sorcerer." he looks at you all enthused, "don’t be shy now, we’ve already slept together after all.” there’s a teasing lilt in his voice.

“we slept in the same bed– not together! don’t you go spreading that around now,” you jump to cup a hand over his mouth. you feel him grin underneath the palm of your hand.

“same thwing,” gojo’s voice is muffled, but he doesn’t bother taking your soft hand off his face. 

“it is not,” you furrow your eyebrows. 

“it can be.” he wiggles his eyebrows, a boyish smile growing.

you remove your hand from his face, “have you no shame?” 

“not a shred,” he declares cheerfully. “come on, we’re wasting precious time standing here. i can feel the steaming water calling our names.” 

“i’ve told you already, gojo. i’m not going to a hot spring naked with you.” 

he waves his hand dismissively, “you don’t have to be naked, it’s not unheard of for people to go in with a towel.”

you sigh exasperatedly at his stubborn disposition, “it would still be highly inappropriate.”

“as inappropriate as cuddling with your classmate while he’s naked and unconscious?” he raises an eyebrow suggestively. gojo was once again referring to the previous night’s moment of vulnerability.

you stiffen. 

“it was not like that and you know it. for all i know, you were the one cuddling me,” you retorted, crossing your arms with a huff.

 gojo raises his hands in defense, “how about we call it even and hop in the hot spring together as a compromise?”

“that doesn’t make any sense.”

“it makes perfect sense. just two classmates relieving the weight of the world off their shoulders.” 

you hate that he’s starting to convince you. 

the knowing smile creeping on gojo’s face signals that he’s sensed your weakening resolve. he decides to deal the finishing blow.

“this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. with busy lives like ours, who knows the next time we will be able to visit one of the world’s best hot springs?” he gestures dramatically. reluctantly, you start to give into his words.

“fine. but if i see you indecent, i will kill you.” you point a finger threateningly at gojo. 

he simply chuckles, “kinky.”

operation satoru x [name]!!!!

gojosatowu attachment: 1 image

shoko.ieiri what the actual hell gojo.  i did not need to see a picture of you with nothing but a towel on. ts is disgusting.

getosugu where is [name]? i thought you guys were returning from your mission today.

gojosatowu heh the two of us are going to take a little dip in kyushu’s world famous onsens haha :3

shoko.ieiri WHAT

getosugu  you?? [name]?? onsen?? together?? gojo satoru explain hello?

shoko.ieiri where is [name] you dirty pervert  i swear i’ll murder you if you pull any dirty tricks answer now

gojosatowu gotta go! ive been dreaming of this day ><

shoko.ieiri  don’t you go ignoring us!!

you’re already settled in the hot spring by the time gojo arrives. with a snug towel secured tightly around your body, you are submerged underwater from the chest down. the steam curls lazily into the air, casting a dreamlike haze around you.

“for someone that was excited about the onsen, you came awfully late,” you quipped at the snow-haired boy. his signature glasses are absent, allowing you complete access to his azure eyes. on the other hand, gojo is granted the opportunity of seeing you in all of your natural beauty.

gojo enters the steaming water just a couple of feet away from you, “had to calm myself before seeing you.” he sighs contentedly when the water envelopes him. it was true. his nerves were a lot calmer when he was fighting the grade one curse than the short walk from the changing room to the hot spring.

you can't help but roll your eyes at his obvious flirtation attempt, but you decide to let it slide.

the conversation lapses into silence, an awkward veil settling between you. you were starting to regret ever entertaining gojo’s invitation to the onsen. to escape the discomfort, you divert your gaze to the steam rising from the water's surface and the surrounding rocks. the trees around you start to look interesting as you focus on not letting you eyes stray on gojo’s solid buil—

then, breaking the silence, gojo interjects, "did ya think i looked cool taking down that curse?"

your eyes shift from the rocks to gojo’s face, “it was quite impressive how you were able to crush the curse with your infinity.” you have heard of stories of gojo’s strength, but seeing it with your very own eyes was truly incredible.

he preens under your praise, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"perhaps i deserve a reward," he suggests, his voice taking on a playful tone.

you entertain the idea, your curiosity piqued. "i suppose you do."

a deeper flush tinges gojo's cheeks, and he averts his gaze. without warning, he points at his cheek, anticipating something. you tilt your head, puzzled by his unspoken request. he keeps pointing to his cheek, poking it multiple times.

“…”

“give me a kiss!”

the water ripples with how fast you lean back, “huh? no way.”

undeterred, gojo shakes his head. "fine then. i guess i'll have to kiss you.

your eyes widen as he leans closer, and you instinctively scoot away, surprised by his boldness. "what? no!"

“eh?! why not? i went total snowagumon on that curse!”

“that’s your job gojo,” you respond matter-of-factly. you’re a bit taken aback by his digimon reference. how dorky.

gojo clicks his tongue, feigning indignation as he looks away. “hmph. can’t even get appreciation for keeping the world in balance.” 

you let out a resigned sigh, realizing he's being dramatic again. it almost feels like dealing with a child. but you suppose you’ll play right into his hands this time– and this time only. he has worked hard on this mission, taking on all the work while you watch idly from the sidelines.

hesitantly, you inch closer towards his frame. the distance closes as you lean towards his face. it was only a split second, but your lips placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

you watch what once was a pink blush blossomed into something deeper. gojo sits up a little straighter and you notice how the corner of his lips are slightly upward.

“gojo, are you oka–” 

“satoru. call me satoru,” he interjected, sounding breathless, his eyes locking on yours. 

you look at him, uncertain. “isn’t that a bit too informal? we’ve only known each other for a couple of months.”

“if it was up to me, we’d be married by now,” satoru closes his eyes nonchalantly, sinking deeply into the water until half of his face is under. he blows a series of bubbles. he really was a child.

your laughter rings out melodiously as you throw your head back, finding his remark utterly amusing.  “you’re actually ridiculous.” 

satoru watches you with a soft smile, his heart feeling lighter. it was criminal how cute you were. if this was his reward for exorcizing a measly grade one curse, he was willing to wipe out all special grades on the earth just to receive your praise again. maybe next time you'll even kiss him on the lips (he'll die a happy man if that happens).

"i am, aren't i?" he muses, basking in the joy of the moment.

extra notes. i lowk hate this but due to popular demand i had to write it. ps i dont even know anything abt digimon i js know gojo likes it gn (forgive me if my digimon reference was totally wrong)

THE THIN LINE BETWEEN LOVE AND HATE, gojou satoru.

gojou satoru x fem!reader. modern!au. hate sex. hair pulling. creampies. spanking. slight degradation. reader is a meanie. short and sweet.

CONTENT rated m for mature.

“IF MY DICK IS SO BORING WHY’FE YOU MOANING LIKE BITCH IN HEAT?” Gojou yanks your hair back even harder. “Tell me how good it feels. Admit it."

You wanted nothing more than to scream that he fucked worse than his worse enemy would. It was there. It was screaming inside of you. But good taste only barely prevailed in your spiral down.

"And lift your dicks ego? No thanks."

It was weak. Limp. But it was effective. A poor joke always worked just enough to push Gojou off the edge. At least when he was in this state. You got spanked, sent into the dreamy joy of pain that you were open to moaning through, knowing you courted insanity, your actions contradicting your words, but you didn't care. You craved more of these mad pressures, more of the fire and the heat and the want with the white haired fool that kept you invested. You wanted more of whatever you could get, and your actions transcended reason.

Whatever Gojou felt about this, right now, it felt good, and he was happy to keep going, keep pounding, just losing himself to pure spectacle and chaos, to a fire beyond sense. He wanted this, and he felt overjoyed about letting it push him, giving up completely. With a mad, balls deep thrust into you, he let everything go. His hips were ready, slamming messily and mercilessly forward as he filled you up. Again. “Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever fucked…shit.”

He'd lost track of the unprotected creampies he'd given you now, but he knew one more wasn't going to be the deciding factor on anything, slamming forward and filling you up with the hot, messy joy of another load. He sent you squealing into joy, noisy and chaotic and full of frenzied delight, a passion and a bliss to give in to completely, and he was happy to let all of it push him. You trembled under the thrill of another climax, another load leaving your pussy feeling warm, dizzy, and overwhelmed. It was just what you needed, the continued slide into chaos for a girl ready to give up compeltely, and Gojou didn't care about thought or control. Not with your cunt wrapped greedily around his cock, pulsating with every whine and shiver, filled to the brim with his seed, and his seed only. It was just warmth, just delight, just perfection.

𝜗𝜚 Satoru with a s/o who likes to get stoned

authors note: last thursday when i had ‘an experience’ i do not want to romanticize. i thought about how gojo would react to his s/o being high (because he doesn’t use any mind altering substances) so here i am ft. the notes from my phone i tried to use (i barely formed words) / tumblr doesn’t let me posts blogs with pics so excuse the lack of aesthetics

cw: drug use (mari🍃nna), insecure reader, nickname use princess

"Babe?"

"Yeah, princess?"

"Do you think it's weird how you have a girlfriend who likes to get high?"

— Let's be honest, he's probably used to being around high people because of Geto and Shoko (you can't tell me they don't stone occasionally)

— Satoru overall perception is that you're cute when you're high, because you never talk this much about your feelings with him, especially your feelings for him

— For when you're hyperactive, he probably gonna have a lot of fun, hearing you bubbling and trying to get 194829 things done but not doing shit right. Trust, it's documented in his camera roll.

— If you're rather chill and relaxed he totally enjoys cuddling with you and just watching you looking in the distance or taking 3 minutes to finish one thought. He is totally curious about what you think but wouldn't push it. (especially if you get high to destress from something)

— At the occasion of you having a bad trip he's totally there for you and those are the times he especially doesn't condone you consuming things, when they make you feel like this. But also in general if you would ask him, he would probably be anti-substances for you. Satoru understands the double blade of it, but as for something like mariXXnna, he would rather tease you out of it than having a real intervention. (No confrontation babe)

— He also wouldn't 'initiate' anything sexual or even go for it when you're beyond normal comprehension

— He loves hearing you talk about the most nonsense things. You wanna explain him your personal playlist? Why you sorted those songs that way? What each song personally means to you, which is just crazy specific. He is all ears.

— Your personal sandwich maker for your cravings, doing insane combos to impress you and asking for your opinion, being absolutely honored when you praise him like he created one of the seven world wonders (it's just a sandwich but he knows you eat everything up in that state)

— Now that I think about it, Satoru is probably the most quiet when you're high and babbling because he feels like he can hear you without any barriers of shame, that could stop you from expressing your true thoughts (and he will use anything you told him later to tease you and then he won't shut up, trust)

"- like isn't it useless, am i not crazy for taking it and you're judging me like what if you find me weird and you're normal and i'm weird and you see me as usless and stop loving me-" he finds it cute how you're so worried about all of that when he couldn't care less unless it's harming you in any way.

— (I have no idea if it's just me) but when you tend to be overly insecure about your feelings/expressing your anxious feelings, he will not stop reassuring you. Especially when you ask him 18 times if he knows you love him and that your love is sincere etc.He does take your insecurities as a validation of your love for him though.

"Oh my god, do i act like a drunk person? So i may sound like that. WTF i'm so insecure I have to stop. I'm sorry. I love you. Now I'm being quiet. You won't hear me talking. Omg am I more serious when I'm not high. Am I a drunk person?"

— His personal fave moments are when you start to explain for 15 minutes how much you love him and you start to go in so much detail that it's getting ridiculous. He would while all of that hug you from behind and look at you with the most soft look in his face just nodding and chuckling because you make it for real sound ridiculously.

no reposts on other platforms

Description: This is my first time making a fan fiction/series, and English isn't my first language, I hope you like it.

Made by : sleepyhafsa .

My frienemy.

School starts at 07:30.

Last night, School was clouding your thoughts .

You were so excited and very nervous at the same time." will they like me?", "who will be my roommate?", "will they be nice?", "I hope their nice." You thought to yourself, you pop out of your over thinking bubble, when your mother yelled for you to...

" Honey, don't forget to prepare your outfit, and pack your backpack and luggages, don't want you to be late for school! "

" Yes, mom on it! " you yell back.

You prepare your outfit, a cute light green prefectly over sized hoodie, with a white shirt underneath, accompanied with your favourite jeans, and a little white bow to tie your hair in cute low ponytail, and some randome white socks.

You lay it on your desk, and you bring a pair of cute white sneaker to pull off the outfit, you put them next to the fram of your bedroom door.

And you pack your cute white backpack, that also has a teddy bear key chaine on it.

(That teddy bear is giving me the heebie-jeebies).

After you pack, you put multiple alarms at 06:30.

"Am kinda hungry " you muttered under your breath.

You went to the kitchen, you found your mother has already made you dinner.

" Honey, come eat, it's your favourite." she said with a warm tone.

" Thanks, mom. " you replied excitedly.

After eating your delicious dinner.

You went to your bathroom, you brushed your teeth, you washed your face, and brushed your hair throughly with a hairbrush, and put on some tinted pink lip balm on your lips.

Then After that, You went back to your room, you pack your white n green luggage. You pack it with essentials like toothpaste, toothbrush, clothes, your hairbrush and other stuff.

You went back to your room, and you turned off the lights, keeping your door open to provide you light to see, you put your phone on the night stand table next to your comfy bed. And you go to sleep with a nervous smile on face.

Time skip: The next morning.

"This is a Disaster ".

"This is a Disaster ".

You planned and promised your self you'd wake at 06:30 not 07:20.

Thank goodness, that your mother woke you up, but if she didn't you'll be a sleeping a hole hour.

" Ten minutes, I need to get ready in ten minutes " you screamed in your inner thoughts.

You ran, faster than sonic and flash themself, you put on your outfit, and tie your hair, put on your sneakers, and taking your backpack in one hand and taking your luggages in the other.

"Bye, mom! " you yelled.

"Honey, what about breakfast! " she yelled in a worried tone.

Thank god your school was like a 15 minute run, your sprinting to your school, until you bump into someone, your face in his muscular chest.

Your first thought about him was muscular.

To be continued...

Thank you for reading, and I hope you liked it, stay tuned.

This made my instincts to be bred kick in

baby trapping - (vol. 2) suguru geto & satoru gojo

rating: e (18+) reader: f summary: being in the presence of two of the most powerful sorcerers in japan and quite possibly the world left you feeling small. a small time curse wielder known mostly for using a small rapier full of cursed energy. you fought almost with a dance like stance, it was like watching a beautiful performance as you slashed your way to victory. to geto and gojo, you were their little doll. tags: baby trapping, smut, multiple sex scenes, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty dirty stuff a/n: if have any other characters to add to the baby trapping collection, please check my pinned post and suggest your own! U・x・U

Keep reading

“Sick bf!gojo” °ᡣ𐭩 . ° .୨ৎ

➽ wrote this like so early in the morning

➽ lmk if you like these types of posts 🙏

Even the invincible can get sick.

Like right now.

When you hurriedly came home after an emergency phone call from your boyfriend you had expected him to have started a fire, or chopped a finger off.

But to see a young adult man laying down on the couch, covered in heaps of blankets, was not on your list.

You raised an eyebrow and quickly slipped off your shoes as you walked over to him.

“Toru? Are you…. Alright?” You murmur, not quite sure if he was asleep (or dead) under the blanket.

But alas, popped out and your view filled with a snowy crop of hair and sickly cerulean eyes. As you gave him a look over, you could definitely tell that something was wrong.

“Babyyyyyy…..” Satoru croaked, reaching and arm out to pull you closer.

“Are you sick? What happened? Wait…. Did you get sick from your last mission?” you questioned him, internally groaning as you saw his flushed cheeks.

“see! This is why I told you if you were gonna go to such a cold place and you should’ve at least packed jacket”

Satoru couldn’t help but pout as you ridiculed him once more. Besides, the cold would wear off in a day or two.

Right?

“But I got rid of the curse! That’s the important part” he huffs

You sighed and went to sit on the ledge of the couch, running your fingers through his hair.

“no more missions till you’re back in shape, okay?”

“Does that mean you’re gonna stay home and take care of me?” He hums, cheekily

“Well, not all the t-“

“y/n! Are you really going to let your poor poor boyfriend suffer his illness all alone?” he questions, turning to look up at her.

You frown “seriously Toru? I love you a million but I’m not gonna be here the whole time.”

Satoru pouts and rest his cheek against your thigh and sighs dramatically

“Fine….”

“But since you’re here now, can you get me the mochi I left in the kitchen?” he asks, fluttering his eyelashes at you.

Oh boy

You were in for a loongg ride..

© NIICONORIEZ 2024, DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

I Just adore this with all my heart❤️

☆ 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗼 - ,, 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

summary: Satoru Gojo has been your best friend for the past 14 years. When he suddenly finds himself taking care of a kid, your relationship twists and turns into something far more romantic.

warnings: fem!reader , slow burn , mutual pining , angst , suggestive (nothing explicit but things are implied) , mentions of death , violent imagery , reader deals with a lot in this fic , gojo is sweet tho !! not proof-read word count: 15.8k (kill me now.) a/n: this fic has been in my drafts for a year now and it's honestly such a mess but i've written it and i'm happy with it (kind of) so the fact that it's such a jumble barely bothers me anymore !! special thanks to the glue song by beabadoobee for helping me through this

“I love you,” he says, lips curled into a pout that makes you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, sighing deeply, “No you don’t.”

“But I do!” and his voice gets louder, which only coaxes the already forming headache behind your eyes to grow. “So you should get your notes out for me.”

“What do you know about love anyway?”

It’s muttered just under your breath and you hope Gojo didn’t catch it, isn’t able to read into the bitterness laced along each word. You slam your laptop shut, standing up abruptly. Gojo follows suit.

“I’m not digging up my anthropology notes from two years ago just so you can cheat.”

His hopeful expression drops in an instant, hands flying forward to grab onto you, “No! Don’t you want me to pass? Don’t you love me?”

And what about you? What do you know about love?

You know that it’s difficult. There isn’t a need for any profound thinking, any nuance, for you to believe that. You know it’s true because you’ve lived it—because you are living it. You don’t have to have said “I love you,” once in your life, to know your way around the trials and tribulations that come with pesky emotions. (Emphasis on pesky emotions that call for intimacy.)

You know that love hurts. Perhaps, it’s the lack of control that makes love so painful. While beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, those who behold can’t choose who they wish to admire. It happens unexpectedly, like the changing tides: waves of emotion crashing down at once and pushing you off kilter. 

You know that love is uncertain, a gamble. It’s the lack of promise love can give. While you may love someone with everything you have, devote yourself to them, prioritize them—they might never see you as anyone other than a friend. Sometimes, you might be a best friend. Oftentimes, it’s never anything more than that.

And yet, love is such a beautiful thing. It bleeds warm, saccharine sweet like spoonfuls of honey, and fills you with the greatest happiness. Tingles at your fingertips where they touch, shivers down your spine when they stare, butterflies erupting in your stomach when they speak. Your skin growing warm and your smile stretched wide—that was the beauty of love.

But how can something so precious be so utterly disheartening? 

“No,” you roll your eyes, walking away from your best friend, unsurprised when he scrambles after you. “I don’t love you.”

You don’t mean it at all.

-: ✧ :-

You sigh a great deal in your life, but none of them compare to the way your chest heaves when you find yourself doing something you know you’ll regret. It’s never a shock that these regretful choices often accompany a certain white-haired man.

The pitch black darkness of your room is pierced by a beam of bright light from your phone screen, your tired eyes reading over the message once. Twice. Three times.

gojo 🤑: hey can i ask for a favor? pleaseeeeee?????? 🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏 im begging you 😫😫

You groan, tossing your phone to the side to run your hand down your face, letting your fingers catch on the soft skin around your eyes. Despite the many years you’ve known him, your hand still trembles as you type out your response, another sigh escaping your lips.

you: what the fuck is it now

The urge to slam your head into the nearest wall makes your neck twitch, the ghost of the movement lingering over your body. Why did you even bother asking?

gojo 🤑: i knew you’d say yes 😁 you just love me SO much come to my place tomorrow early too better be there before sunrise you:  i’m going to kill you for this one satoru 

Setting down your phone, you will yourself to close your eyes and forget about the man who’s been the cause for all your inner turmoil lately.

To be honest, he’s been the cause of your inner turmoil for the past year and a half, as pathetic as that may be. It’s not your fault he’s handsome, charming, funny, reliable—the list goes on. Sure, he can be slightly immature at times, and he often shies away from commitment, but who doesn’t have flaws, right?

You squeezed your eyes shut even harder, trying to clear your mind of all things Gojo.

The thing with love is that, at its worst, it can stay a secret for years and years to come. You can pine and yearn for someone so terribly, every fiber in your body craves them, and they would never know. You never have to tell them anything. That choice alone is what has put you in your recent predicament.

If life was black and white, perhaps you could have stopped being friends with him the moment you noticed the way your heart raced at the mere thought of him. But things don’t work like that and, frankly, you think Gojo would hunt you down if you even tried to cut him off.

You’ve tried to rid yourself of this 190cm lanky demon several times over the course of your life, however you’ve been unsuccessful every single time. When you met him 14 years ago, you didn’t think Satoru Gojo would become your best friend. In fact, you found him annoying, like a pesky mosquito that refused to leave you alone no matter how hard you swatted at him.

The two of you had your fair share of fights growing up, some lasting mere hours, others stretching on over the course of a couple days. Despite that, you both managed to make up and forgive each other no matter what. 

You had believed then, as a hurting teenager, that one of your more serious arguments would eventually drive you both apart. After all, the similarities between you both were few and far between. For some reason entirely unknown to you, your scathing words never pushed him away.

And now that it's been 14 years, you’ve grown too fond of him to be able to imagine a life without him. 

So, you’re forced to swallow back the way your feelings crawl to the back of your throat when you’re with him, resting at the tip of your tongue, because you know he’d never see you as anything more than a friend. 

Hell, it was obvious. The two of you have done everything you could possibly do as a couple: go on amusement park “dates”, spend hours in the arcade together. He’s even insisted on cuddling, changing in front of one another, sharing a bed. Yet, Gojo has never seemed to look at you any differently. 

And none of it ever bothered you either—until last year, when you saw him in a different light nearly overnight. In comparison to all else you had done with him, this was absolutely minuscule, but it's the reason Gojo takes up so much of your thoughts even now. 

You had come over to his apartment. It was a Saturday and every Saturday, he insisted the both of you hang out. When you met him as a dumb little kid, it was easy to hang out whenever you both pleased. Things are obviously different now that you both have responsibilities. 

Being busy with university and your part-time job, you and Gojo began to see less and less of each other. Still, Saturday evenings stayed dedicated to your long-standing friendship. That day, your shift at the grocery store was particularly grueling: loud babies wailing, irritable customers screaming in your face. To top it all off, you had a headache and had to skip lunch. Safe to say, you were exhausted. 

You got to Gojo’s house, knocking on the door, almost falling asleep against the wood. He didn't greet you. In fact, he wasn't even home. This wasn't uncommon, you simply pulled out your spare key and walked inside, making a beeline for his couch and letting your body sink into the soft cushions. The guy was unbelievably rich for a university student—not that you were complaining. 

You wanted to stay awake, wait for him so you could follow through with your usual Saturday shenanigans, but you just couldn’t. 

The couch was awfully comfortable, cradling your fatigued body, lulling you to sleep. Your eyes fought against the instinct to close, but ultimately, you lost and gave in. Darkness enveloped you as your head fell back. It was a rather uncomfortable position, but at that moment, you didn’t have enough energy to care. 

You fell asleep in mere minutes, and because he has the worst timing, Gojo showed up seconds after you had bid goodbye to consciousness. 

To this day, you’re still unsure if you had dreamt it, or maybe you had jolted back into a state of semi-awareness when your noisy friend barged in with a loud, “Honey! I’m home!". What you’re sure of, is the fact that he had moved you. While drifting in and out of sleep, you felt his cold hands press into the muscle of your arms as he laid you down, moving you into a much more comfortable position. 

Perhaps you were still in the throes of deep sleep, sinking into pillowy clouds in your dreams and that’s why you conjured up this moment. It might not have happened at all. Or, perhaps, Gojo did lean over you, his warmth spilling over your cheek as he pressed his lips to your forehead. They were slightly chapped as they brushed against your skin, and you felt the gust of air as he sighed his goodnight.

You wonder if he had smiled. 

It wasn’t like Gojo had never been affectionate with you before. In fact, you’re pretty sure physical touch is one of his love languages with how prone he is to clinging onto you like some parasite. Some things, like forehead kisses, are strictly outside the bounds of your friendship.

There’s something so intimate about that gesture, something far more genuine and laced with a kind of devotion that never exists between people who are simply just friends.

The following morning, you wrenched yourself out of his apartment with the excuse that you had to feed your fish. You don’t even own fish. 

The feeling had been so utterly foreign. You couldn’t remember a time when you had ever felt this nervous around Gojo—your palms sweaty, a tingling feeling racing up and down your spine. The realization dawned on you the moment you had woken up.

This feeling, which had laid dormant at the bottom of your heart, flickered to life, merging with the very blood that pumps through your veins.

Maybe, Gojo had always been more than just a friend. More than a best friend, even. 

You don’t know how to face it—the truth about your feelings. You try and fail to move on, try and fail to confess, try and fail.

Which is why it wasn’t surprising in any sense that you were awake, before the sun had even graced your city, slipping on your shoes so you could go and see what your best friend wanted from you. 

-: ✧ :-

“You have a what?”

Gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “Why’d you say that like I asked you to get naked or something? Listen: I have some errands to run and I need you to look after this kid of mine.”

You’re struggling to wrap your head around everything he just laid onto you. Even if the only new information was that he, seemingly overnight, got himself a kid. How did Satoru Gojo end up with a child in his care?

You sputter, trying to come up with something to say. “Since when did you have a kid?”

“I adopted him a few days ago, saved him from some family stuff. Anyways, can you look after him or not?”

You really hate yourself for saying yes, but you say yes, and suddenly you’re sitting on the couch with the world’s grumpiest child next to you. It’s been a few minutes since Gojo’s left to do God knows what, and neither of you have said a word. You expected Megumi to get off the couch and go do his thing, while you figure out how to look after him, but he stayed glued to the spot Gojo called him to.

“So…how old are you?”

Silence. 

“I’m twenty-two, just like Satoru.”

More silence.

You probably wouldn’t have known his name had it not been for Gojo telling you. 

You sigh—he clearly doesn’t like you. It stings a little bit, you liked to tell yourself that you’re the type of person kids naturally gravitate towards, but clearly there are exceptions. 

“What’s your…favorite color?” you try once more, and again, it’s met with silence. The boy hasn’t even looked at you, staring straight ahead, preoccupied with something else. 

“Well, mine is probably blue. I think it’s such a nice color—like the ocean and the sky. And there’s so many shades, but lighter blues are especially gorgeous,” you ramble, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

He lets out a breath through his nose, and you perk up, waiting for his response. “I like pink. Do you like blue because it reminds you of Gojo’s eyes?”

You laugh, perhaps a bit too loud. Out of all the things he could have said, you certainly weren’t expecting that. 

Waving your hands in front of you, you try to shrug off his question, “No, it’s nothing like that! He’s just my best friend.”

Megumi nods, but something tells you he doesn’t believe you. You can’t believe you got bested by a six-year-old. Shaking your head, you interrogate him some more about his hobbies, and Megumi responds with one word answers. Eventually, the two of you settle on reading him some non-fiction book that you’re surprised even interests him.

As the hours stretch on, Megumi warms up to you a little more. Or something like that. He’s started asking you more about yourself, and even let you inside his room, showing you his growing collection of books about animals. 

He’s strangely interested in your relationship with Gojo: asking how you two met, why you wanted to be friends with him. Whenever you give him your answer (some bullshit you make up on the spot because—really. Why are you still friends with an idiot like him?), he hums like he’s learned some fundamental truth about you. 

Honestly, the kid scares you a little bit and it makes perfect sense that he ended up with Satoru Gojo as his parent. 

Speaking of: the fact that Gojo was even allowed to adopt him in the first place makes you question everything you ever knew about him. Then again, there’s always the possibility that this was by no means a legal adoption. He did say Megumi was saved from some family troubles, and knowing your best friend of several years, this very well entails kidnapping. 

You furrow your brows, looking over at the six-year-old doodling some large fluffy dogs, “Did Gojo just scoop you up off the street?”

“Something like that.”

Well. That’s alarming. 

When Gojo gets back, he doesn’t really offer you much of an explanation as to how or why he suddenly has a kid. You were naïve for thinking you would get one at all. Instead, he tucks Megumi into bed, sits you down at his dinner table, and shares some of the takeout he brought home with you. 

You expected that to be the last time you’d be babysitting Megumi.

But then you’re back in two days, and then the day after that as well. And then the day after that too. 

Now, you’re a good friend who loves helping out your friends, and you’re a good Samaritan who will provide your aid where it’s needed. In the grand scheme of things, this isn’t even that terrible of an arrangement. You could definitely live like this.

But then it’s been a week of being called to babysit, and you definitely can’t live like this.

You don’t have the heart to look Gojo in the eyes and tell him you can’t do this anymore, so you keep going. Love makes people do crazy things, even if it’s ignoring pending assignments so you could color dogs with a grumpy little boy.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you get dressed, “Why don’t you get an actual babysitter? I doubt I’m being a good influence.”

Of course, your academics are your top priority. But you can’t help but think about how Megumi might turn out if the only people he seems to be surrounded by are you, and your impulsive, borderline insane best friend. 

Gojo’s voice crackles over the phones as he laughs, “You see, I would. But Megumi keeps asking for you- actually, he insists that it has to be you.”

Maybe, you’re just being dramatic. This isn’t that bad anyways. 

This time when you step into the Gojo household, your beloved best friend already has one foot out the door. Normally, he lingers, giving you both sickly sweet goodbyes, scooping up a struggling Megumi into his arms to plant a big wet kiss on his cheek. 

He offers you one too, which you quickly decline. 

“I won’t be back until really late today,” Satoru grimaces, pulling the door shut only for you to pull it back open.

You pout, slightly alarmed, “But Satoru, I have an essay to work on!”

"Just use my laptop!” he shouts as he runs off. You wonder how he has the time to do any of his own assignments. 

You figure he’s probably out meeting with his model UN group. It’s one of the few academic pursuits in his life that Gojo is very serious about. Either that, or he actually took up the tutoring offer from Nanami (but you highly doubt that).

Megumi has yet to wake up, so you go on a hunt for Gojo’s laptop to start on your essay. Might as well be productive while you have the chance to. 

You find it resting on his desk in his bedroom, and bring it over to the living room. It’s only when you open it up that you find out it’s password locked. You try texting Gojo, but something tells you he won’t be responding. 

If you can’t guess the password, then you have to begrudgingly start your essay on your phone, which sounds like a nightmare.

Your first guess is his own birthday. Satoru has a habit of acting like his birth reset the course of planet Earth, so it wouldn’t surprise you if that was also his password. Surprisingly, you’re wrong. And you’re wrong about it being Getou’s birthday, or Megumi’s birthday (which you only learned recently), and even your own birthday. 

You’ve definitely ruled out the possibility of it ever being Nanami’s birthday, which leads you to believe it isn’t a birthday at all. Bringing your hands together, you steeple your fingers and bring them under your chin; trying to think like Gojo is hurting your brain.

Clearly this isn't working out. Gojo's an enigma and trying to put yourself in his shoes is making you lose what few brain cells you've managed to save. 

So, you make your way into his poorly guarded room.

You tend to keep a safe distance away from his bedroom for obvious reasons—Lord knows what Gojo has lying around—so it feels strange to open the door and step inside. 

Your first impression is one of surprise at how clean it was. Knowing his tendency to leave many of his chores untouched or half-completed, you expected his room to be a reflection of his laziness, but you can actually see the floor. His bed is made and his dirty clothes lay in a hamper in the corner, clean clothes folded and placed off to the side on his bed. 

His desk is a tad cluttered with random trinkets, many of which you recognize from your countless adventures with him, but it’s organized enough.

“Okay, if I was Satoru, what would I make my password?” you whisper just under your breath as your eyes continue to scan and scrutinize his room. 

You walk up to a few post-it notes stuck on the wall, hoping that one of them might be his password. You remember the amount of times Gojo’s gotten locked out of his email, social media, and other things—it would only make sense for him to write passwords down.

Unfortunately for you, all of them are reminders to take out the trash. 

Pulling out the chair tucked into his desk, you take a seat, sprawling out as you continue to take in his room. Growing up, you spent hours upon hours cooped up in Satoru’s room. The two of you spent your time playing video games, watching tv shows you were definitely too young for, and talking about everything and nothing. 

When you got bored of his room, the both of you would do the same thing in your room. 

Somewhere along the years, you stopped hanging out in each others’ rooms. You suppose it’s only natural—your bedroom goes from being a place to sleep to a clear insight into the way you live your life. 

Gojo’s room lacks the mess you would’ve expected, but it’s still obviously his room from the several polaroids stuck to the wall, the kikufuku wrappers on his desk, and the growing collection of mugs accumulating on the nightstand. 

It makes you smile, despite the fact that the several mugs are nothing short of disgusting. Next to them is a framed picture. You never took Satoru for someone who’s sentimental, and out of sheer curiosity, you walk over to see what it is. 

Your smile only widens as you realise it's a picture of you and him from when you were young. You recognize the park the two of you are at instantly: it was where you both met. You were both only just kids back then. He basically ran into you and felt guilty, so he offered to hang out with you since you apparently looked lonely. You took offense, obviously, and told him to leave you alone. 

He did not and suddenly you found yourself with a new friend. Gojo forced himself into your life and after a few short days, you decided he wasn’t all that bad. The picture was taken by his mom, before the both of you parted ways, only to immediately find out you lived across from each other.

You flip the frame over, surprised to find a date scribbled in the corner. From the year alone, you figure it was the day the picture was taken. Realising you may have stumbled across his password, you rush back to his laptop to try it. 

Lo and behold, it worked.

You sit there for a moment, desperately trying not to read into what you just found out. Surely, there’s nothing more to this than Satoru choosing a date for a password. He probably didn’t want to go with a birthday since it would be too obvious, so he picked another date instead. 

Shaking the annoyingly hopeful thoughts crowding your mind, you quickly begin working on your essay.

You only get halfway through your essay before Megumi joins you, silent as always, but from the way he’s side-eyeing you it’s obvious he wants your attention. You spend the rest of the day with him as you usually would, reading and drawing, sharing bits and pieces about your life.

Somehow the conversation spirals to when you and Gojo met, and you’re not sure if you’re still hung up over his password, but you find your voice shaking a little as you recount the many things you’ve done with him.

Eventually, as the sun begins to set, you get dinner ready and eat on the couch with Megumi by your side. Some random cartoon show is playing on TV, but Megumi seems much more interested in mimicking the way you’re forking pasta into your mouth. 

He helps you clean up, and shuffles in next to you on the couch once more. You don’t remember Megumi falling asleep, or when you fell asleep as well.

-: ✧ :-

When you wake up, you're surrounded by warmth. It feels like you're sinking into something akin to moist, spongy cake. The sunlight melts over your closed eyes, and you flutter them open, blinded by white very briefly as you get used to the daytime once more. 

And then you notice Gojo laying next to you, elbow pressed into the mattress as he holds his head up with his palm, obviously shirtless and staring down at you. All the air in your lungs escapes you quickly, getting tangled in your throat as you choke. 

You frantically point at his torso, and the bed the two of you were sharing, "What- you- what?"

He laughs and it does little to calm you, "Don't worry, we didn't do anything.

“I didn't want to leave you on the couch after I pried Megumi away to send him off to school."

He shrugs off the comforter, making your thrashing heart slow down at the sight of his sweatpants. You can feel your own clothes from last night on you: your uncomfortable jeans and an old cotton and polyester t-shirt. 

You frown, following him, "Megumi goes to school?"

"Yeah?" he says, while your eyes flit all over his chest. "He's six, what else would he be doing?"

You decide not to comment on the fact that Megumi hasn’t been attending school for the past couple days, trusting that Gojo knew what he was doing. That’s probably a mistake but it’s not your problem to worry about. 

The two of you file out of his bedroom, and you scroll through your phone while waiting for him to leave the bathroom. 

"I can't believe Megumi slept with you last night. And on top of that, he was clinging onto you like a dumb koala."

You could barely understand Gojo with his toothbrush shoved in his mouth, but you could make out enough to respond with a smug smirk, "Sorry that I'm better at this than you are."

"I'm telling you—it's the maternal instincts!" he huffs, walking back into the bathroom with the slam of the door. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to pull him away from you in the morning?"

He's yelling from inside the bathroom, and you roll your eyes as he keeps complaining. 

"I basically got in my morning work out! And then-!" he starts again, this time opening the door, wiping his face with a small towel, "that little shit had the audacity to start wailing when I carried you off to the bedroom.

"Whining about how you were his or whatever," Gojo trails off, his voice getting quieter as he begins to mumble. "As if I didn't know you first."

You feel your chest tighten as your heart swells; it's surprising how quickly you've grown attached to the little kid. For all his efforts, he was actually pretty clingy.

A laugh bubbles up your throat, the corners of your mouth twitching up with amusement as you come to a realization.

"Gojo...are you jealous of a little kid?"

He gives you an incredulous look, scoffing in offense, "Gojo? You mean Satoru—first of all."

The laugh you've been holding back bursts past your lips, escaping you as you shut the door in his face. 

"Second of all," he shouts, "no. I am not jealous of some kid!"

"I beg to differ!" you call out, and he doesn't respond. You enjoy the silence: this feels good. This feels domestic, and natural, and good. 

It makes your stomach twist when you realize that Gojo is nothing more than a good friend. And he'd never see you as anything more than that. 

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asks suddenly, and you clear your thoughts. 

"Nothing, coffee is fine."

"Okay, no. I’m making waffles," he hums and you can hear him walk away, his footsteps making the ground shake. 

You go about your business in the bathroom, exiting a few seconds later to meet Gojo in the kitchen. He's busy gathering ingredients, setting everything down onto the marble counters as he hums a song you recognize as one you introduced him to. 

Leaning against the cool counter, you begin to speak, "You know the heart attack you gave me today morning?"

He responds by turning around, giving you a wolfish grin, which you pointedly ignore. 

"Why didn't you leave me on the couch anyway?"

This was the first time Gojo has ever made an effort to pick you up and move you somewhere else, let alone his own bed. You've slept over multiple times before, and always woke up on the couch. 

He stills, hesitating for a moment and you can feel the air almost pause. 

"And what? Leave you to complain at me about how you slept weird?"

He brushed off the question, both you and him know that. But you let it go, opting for admiring your best friend, and crush, work the kitchen. 

Gojo isn't the best cook, certainly not better than you, but he can hold his own. That being said, Gojo's a messy cook and always leaves the kitchen like a hurricane swept through it. 

He looks good, but then again, the moments where he looks even mediocre are few and far between. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the watery sun from the cloudy sky outside spreads over his back and his porcelain hair like it's meant to be shining on him at all times. 

You come around the side of the kitchen, hoisting yourself up onto the counter Gojo was working on, allowing your gaze to settle on the curve of his nose and the way his lips were parted with focus. His eyes seem to take on an almost mystical glow—vivid cerulean irises flitting from the different bowls laid out in front of him. 

"Take a picture, Princess, it'll last longer," he mutters with a ghost of a smirk. 

"You're so annoying."

His boisterous laugh takes up the whole room, and you bite your lip, looking down at your swinging feet. 

He calms down and pours the batter into the warmed up waffle maker, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth with focus, "You know, it took Megumi weeks to warm up to me. He's not shy but...he's kind of picky with people."

This surprises you. 

Sure, when you first met him, Megumi wasn't the kindest. but it didn't take you long to break him out of his shell. He wasn't the most talkative, but it was the little things: when he leaned into your side while you sat beside him, when he mimicked the way you had eaten. Megumi is observant and mimicry is the sincerest form of flattery. 

"I hadn't noticed..." you finally say, trailing off. 

Gojo exhales something of a laugh, "That's because he loves you."

"I think 'love' is pushing it-"

"No, no! You should've seen him today, bitching and moaning about how I'm making him leave you." He rolls his eyes with a groan, muttering to himself in annoyance. 

You smirk, pointing at his face to make a quip about him rolling his eyes, when someone begins to bang on the front door. There's a quick, rapid succession of knocks, and then: "Satoru! Where are you? You have class!"

You don't give Gojo the chance to speak before you're jumping off the counter, rushing over to open the door. 

Getou stands with his hands shoved in his pockets, brows furrowed until he realizes it's you who's opened the door, and not his perpetually tardy friend. He breathes out your name like it's a song. "Nice to see you," he smiles, bending down to meet your gaze. Your cheeks grow warm, involuntarily. 

Though your affection may lie with Gojo, Getou was still every bit as charming, and then some. 

You move out of the way, giving him the space to step into Gojo's lavish flat. His sneakers squeak against the tile of the entrance as he stops next to you. 

"Good to see you too, Suguru," you grin back, wrapping your arms around your waist. 

He shuffles a bit closer to you, and you don't hesitate to lean against him, still somewhat tired from your slightly rude awakening. Getou moves with ease as he slips an arm around you, bringing you into his side. 

"I don't have class today, you know that."

Gojo comes into view from around the kitchen, his eyes immediately fixating on the way Suguru has you within his grasp. He visibly stiffens, eyes darkening in a way you haven’t seen before, wearing a kind of neutral look that you can’t understand.

Suguru, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow, "Are you sure about that? Today is Tuesday, not Wednesday."

And this time when Gojo stills, it's not with some unreadable expression that confuses you—it's with shock. He scrambles to pull out his phone from the pocket of his sweats, glancing at the date before letting out a string of curses. 

"C'mere," he gestures at you, then ultimately decides to pull you away, his hand closing around your wrist. 

You let Gojo drag you into the kitchen, ignoring the way your skin burns at his touch, and he turns to you with an apologetic smile. He's stumbling out his words, hands gripping your upper arms as he speaks. "I can't be marked late by the professor again, or else I'm gonna be in so much trouble."

It’s beyond you why the two of you had to walk into the kitchen for him to divulge this information. And it’s certainly beyond you why Gojo had let his fingers linger around your wrist, and on your upper arms. You ignore it, however, as you move towards the sleek, black Keurig and turn it on.

Getou walks into the kitchen then, shooing a very reluctant Gojo to go get dressed. He moves over to grab you a mug for your coffee, which you graciously thank him for since Gojo had a habit of leaving everything you needed tucked away in unusually high cabinets.

You set it under the coffee maker, waiting for the dark liquid to fill the cup. Tendrils of steam spill out the sides of the mug, the kitchen filling up with the scent of the bitter drink. To your side, Getou’s leaning against the counter, watching you with a soft smile. You meet his eyes with a curious stare, raising your eyebrows.

“Something on my face, Suguru?”

He laughs, warm and deep, shaking his head, “Nothing at all.” He slides closer, reaching around you to grab a spoon before grabbing the creamer for you. “Why’d you spend the night anyway? Did that idiot bug you to study with him?”

You scoff at the thought of your ‘study’ sessions with Gojo; they always devolve into the both of you watching a movie, your work forgotten on the floor. 

“Nope,” you answer, pouring some of the creamer into your coffee, “I was babysitting his…kid.”

Getou’s eyes widen ever so slightly, the only indicator of him acknowledging what you said. You open your mouth to say something more, but Gojo comes running out of his room, jacket half-on. He eyes your closeness to Getou suspiciously, before motioning for his friend to follow him with a wave of his hand. 

Before they leave, Gojo walks over to where you’re standing in the kitchen, grinning at you so sweetly. You know he wants something from you.

“Would you– like to stay for dinner? With Megumi and i?” he asks, voice just a hair above a whisper. Had you not been standing so close to him, you might not have heard him at all. His expression remains sincere for a moment more before it morphs into an exaggerated pout.

“Please?” he begs, dragging out the word just to irritate you.

“Put that fucking pout away and I might agree.”

He takes that as a yes, pulling you into a hug that nearly spills the coffee out of your mug. “I’ll see you then,” he mumbles into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like you’d float away should he let go.

Getou slams a hand against the wall, reminding gojo of his presence, “Hurry it up, unless you wanna be late.”

You wave them both out, Gojo blowing a kiss your way which you pretend to catch and stomp on. The action elicits a laugh from Getou which earns him a shoulder punch from the taller of the two. They begin bickering as they walk away and you watch fondly, heart aching for something you know you’re never getting.

-: ✧ :-

When Gojo gets back from class, he arrives with Megumi in tow. The young boy stumbles inside, shrugging off his backpack as soon as he makes it in. You had let yourself in a few moments earlier, knowing gojo would be home soon. You wanted to help with dinner.

Megumi notices you seated on the couch and approaches you slowly, giving you a short wave. You return the gesture just as Gojo walks over to meet you both, large hands resting atop Megumi’s head.

“Ready for dinner?”

You nod your head, getting up, “I’m helping.”

"I figured,” he laughs, leading the way into the kitchen. You watch as he puts on the stupid apron Shoko had gotten him as a gag gift a few years ago. ‘Kiss the Cook!’ is printed in red cursive on the front with kiss marks and red hearts around it.

Gojo catches you looking at the words, leaning closer while pointing at his lips. “Well? You read the apron, Angel.”

You try not to put much meaning into the pet name and scoff, shoving him away. “Are aprons suddenly law or something?”

“Not all of them, but this one is.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s so special about this one, Satoru?” you ask, getting ingredients out from the fridge, the necessary produce needed for dinner tonight. 

“It's special 'cause I said so.”

You scoff, “In your dreams, dumbass.”

Satoru grins, wide and yielding as he steps closer to where you’ve cosied up in a corner. You take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart thrashing against your ribcage. Though his attention should be elsewhere, his eyes remain glued to your own. You turn around, back facing him.

It’s a precautionary measure because you’re sure that you’d make a mistake, staring at him the way you were. 

His chest presses against your back, the warmth of his body seeping through the cotton of his shirt and you can’t quite stop yourself from relaxing against him. 

“Where did I put it?” he mumbles to himself, searching the cupboards above you. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about the fact that he’s crowding you against the counter, one arm resting on the marble countertop, caging you against him.

Gojo pulls away rather abruptly, the feeling of him disappearing as soon as you had gotten used to it. “Guess it’s not there after all,” he says, swiftly moving over to another cupboard to check. 

You, however, have a hand pressed to your heart, feeling it nearly beat out of your chest. 

Megumi joins you both in the kitchen shortly after, and Gojo brings him up to sit on some free counter space while the both of you maneuver around each other in the kitchen. You can feel Megumi watching you as you hand things over to Gojo, freezing when his fingers brush yours. You know he’s watching when Gojo reaches around you for something, pressing himself against you.

You wait for the water in the pot to come to a simmer, softly humming the chorus of a song over and over again. Eventually, Megumi picks up on the repetition, humming along with you. It brings a smile to your face and you can’t resist pinching his little cheek. 

You’re too busy cooing at Megumi (whose face has gone red from embarrassment) to notice Gojo watching you both, leaning down, his cheek propped up by his arm resting on the counter. There’s a warmth in his gaze that you always seem to miss, this barely restrained desire to know you better than he knows himself.

He sighs wistfully, which gets your attention and as you turn, he’s walking closer. You let him wrap his arms around you, looking into your eyes for just a brief moment. His gaze is cloudy, like he’s wrapped up in his own head—your own pining reflected back to you. It startles you; you long to look inside his mind.

“This is really nice,” Gojo hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

You can only nod in agreement, everything you want to say sticking to the roof of your mouth, sugar exploding along your tongue like a caramel candy. 

You swallow them down, deciding to keep them to yourself for a little longer. Gojo squeezes you to his chest, then untangles himself from you. You watch him get back to cooking and you wonder if his heart is also racing, the blood rushing to his head, roaring in his ears. 

There's a whisper of something painful in the back of your mind. You ignore it.

Seconds ago, you were close enough to share a breath. Yet, when you watch him now, you feel as though you’ll always be miles apart.

-: ✧ :-

It’s been a few days since you’ve started babysitting Megumi. You fell so easily into their routine, like you were always meant to be a part of it. And when you listen to Gojo complain about how m\Megumi likes you more, you begin to believe that you were. 

You fiddle with the keys to Gojo’s car as you stand just outside of Megumi’s school, waiting for the hordes of children to come running out. Tired mothers sit on the few benches next to the entrance, rehashing the same gossip most likely. Fathers stand possessively in front of their cars, arms crossed over their chest as they wait. 

It’s cold. The wind brings a chill that sweeps over you and makes a few strands of your hair flutter, landing in a mess covering your eyes. You blow them out of the way, tapping your foot impatiently. 

Megumi’s school is rather small: just one main building, single-storied. In the back, you think there’s a garden, judging by the chain link fencing colored green thanks to the growing ivy wrapped around it. 

Wreathes and small Christmas trees are placed strategically along the sidewalk and on the walls outside, fairy lights strung from the roof of the school. The announcement board outside features a Santa Claus cutout smiling joyfully. The school is covered in Christmas decorations as they prepare for the upcoming holidays, only a week and a half away.

You briefly wonder what Gojo’s plans are, whether he’ll be taking Megumi home to his family. You highly doubt it—Satoru would hate to be on the receiving end of a stream of endless questions. How was he meant to explain Megumi anyway?

Along with that thought, comes another: would Megumi miss his family over the holidays? 

You don’t know much about the boy at all, neither Megumi himself nor Gojo bothered to explain his past. However, it must be a pretty stark change to suddenly be under the care of a college student, especially one as eccentric as Gojo. 

The clock ticks down to a minute before the end of the school day. A large crowd of children stand waiting behind the closed gates, squealing and screaming, waving frantically at their parents waiting for them.

You hear the bell ring and the gate opens, kids flooding out like a rush of water breaking past a dam. Their little legs slam against the pavement as they race for their families. You keep an eye out for Megumi, knowing that he wouldn’t be the type to behave so rambunctiously. 

It doesn’t take long for you to spot the top of his head, his spiky raven hair moving slowly behind a gaggle of loud children. Megumi looks around aimlessly, probably for Nanami who normally picks him up. His friend next to him, a pink-haired boy, grins at him and says something you can’t make out.

He must be loud, you notice, as Megumi winces from the noise. His gaze eventually makes its way to you, and you watch as recognition flashes across his features. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide, Megumi makes a mad dash towards you, plowing down his friend in the process.

The sight of the pink-haired boy rolling around on the sidewalk makes you gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your laughter at bay. Megumi slows down dramatically when you wave to him, struggling to appear indifferent to your presence. It’s insanely endearing.

“Hi Megumi,” you smile, reaching out a hand to brush over the unruly strands of his hair. Megumi wrinkles his nose at the feeling of your fingers smoothing over his scalp, but he returns your greeting.

“Hello. Where’s Nanami?”

The abruptness of the question barely phases you. You’re used to Megumi’s bluntness.

“Well…Satoru forgot to tell Nanami to get you today, so I showed up instead,” you answer, leading Megumi towards Gojo’s car. 

You barely had the opportunity to really take in this car on your way to the school, borderline speeding so you wouldn’t show up late. Curse you for falling asleep for too long. Everything about it screamed Gojo, from the color to the model (appropriately flashy for a very flashy guy). It’s not your kind of car by any means.

You grab Megumi’s backpack while he clambers into the backseat, hopping up onto the booster seat placed on the right. The bright orange flames decorating the fabric is a pretty strong indicator that Gojo bought this thing without consulting Megumi. Handing him back his backpack, you climb into the driver’s seat.

The drive is a lot more peaceful when you’re not racing against traffic lights and skating just under the speed limit. You think of the last time you were in this car—it was too long ago for you to be able to recall.

Stopped at a red light, you allow your eyes to wander a bit and explore the front dash. Gojo’s placed a small cat figurine in the corner, but aside from that, his car lacks much personality. The only other decorative piece he’s got is a small keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. 

You eye it carefully, wondering why the fraying twine and colorful beads seem so familiar to you. It takes you some time to remember the bracelet you had gifted Gojo years ago, in fourth grade. You had spent recess with some other friends of yours, making friendship bracelets. When you went to give Gojo the bracelet you made for him, you were met with petty hostility.

He had been upset because you had ditched him, but his grievances were quickly forgotten as soon as you handed over his gift. He wore it every single day until he couldn’t anymore. When you asked about it, Satoru explained that the bracelet had come apart. You weren’t surprised: he wore it way too much and that thing was holding on thanks to a flimsy knot you put together as a chubby fingered nine-year-old.

You hadn’t expected him to keep it after that, let alone turn it into a keychain to hang in his car. 

The fact that he had held onto it even after all these years makes your heart flip in a way that you know is dangerous. Tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you focus back on driving. 

Once you’re back in the apartment, you decide to get started on making Megumi some kind of snack to tide him over until dinner rolls around. you watch him rummage around in his backpack, walking over to you with a piece of paper in his hand. 

He tugs on your apron, handing you the paper without a single word of explanation. from a quick glance, you gather that it’s a drawing and you grin, “This is so cute, Megumi!”

Sure, you didn’t really see it yet, but he doesn’t need to know that. You have to foster creativity in children when they’re young in any way you can, even if it means lying sometimes.

You set aside some strawberries to dice, making a mental note to put the picture up on the fridge. Gojo has an abundance of random magnets from all the places he’s visited; might as well put them to good use. 

When you grab the drawing off the counter, really take a look at what’s on it, you almost can’t believe it. For a moment, you wonder if you’re simply projecting your twisted hopes onto this kid’s art piece. 

Megumi’s decided to draw himself, standing with his brows furrowed, next to a very long man who you can only assume to be Gojo, judging by the white hair and sunglasses. On megumi’s left, is someone in a blue sweater, shorter than gojo. It’s you.

There was clearly an attempt at drawing hands that fell apart into a jumble of squiggles but you get the idea: they’re all holding hands. At the top of the drawing, in large messy handwriting is the title.

“My Family.”

Megumi runs up to the counter, eyeing you carefully as you take in the drawing. You’re struck with the sudden urge to confess to Gojo, convince him to make this boy’s vision a reality. You think he deserves that much.

But your heart aches in a way it never has before—filled with this dreadful yearning for a man you know will never look at you the way you look at him. 

The whispers in the back of your mind come together and someone flickers to life, like the flame appearing from a lighter.

“This is beautiful, Megumi,” you whisper, sticking it onto the fridge with a magnet advertising Las Vegas. Something malicious squeezes around your lungs, digging it’s claws into your heart but you gulp back the pain. 

Megumi is none the wiser, nodding in agreement and waiting patiently for you to hand him his snack. He runs off, taking a seat on the couch and you watch him eat, realizing how sickeningly domestic this whole scene is. 

You hate it. 

Hours pass unceremoniously. Gojo barges in with a slam of the front door, practically shouting at the top of his lungs.

“There they are, my two favorite people!” he grins, kicking off his shoes. You close your laptop, leaving it on the couch as you get up just in time to dodge Gojo’s hug. He stumbles forward onto the couch where you were sitting previously.

While he grumbles about evil you are, you decide to grab the picture Megumi brought home. Once again, you’re struck by how domestic your actions are, and you hesitate. 

Gojo, however, is already making his way over to you, holding Megumi captive in his arms. “What’s that?” he asks with a nod of his head.

You turn it around, holding it up to show him and you watch carefully as his eyes flicker from person to person. His grin falls into a gentle smile, somewhat guarded, and he uses his free hand to take the picture from you.

Megumi takes this opportunity to launch himself out of Gojo’s grasp, scurrying off to his room. Your eyes follow him as he disappears behind a wall. When you bring your attention back to Gojo, he’s stepped closer to you.

His stare is intense, unwavering, and it directly contrasts with the amused smile he wears. You don’t know what to think—in fact, you can barely think at all. The air is thick with tension, it presses down on your chest until you can barely breathe. 

“It’s a perfect family, don’t you think?” he asks, his gaze softening as he looks down at the drawing. The atmosphere shifts but you still feel breathless, filled with this ache to wrap yourself around him. 

“Yeah, it is,” you say, ever so quietly because you’re scared that anything louder would break this feeling. He’s so close, you could close the gap and kiss him right now. 

There’s a crash, a large stack of books laying on the floor, papers scattered everywhere. Megumi stands next to it, eyes wide and terrified. His small hands curl into little fists and he takes a deep breath. “Didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you reply, swiftly moving to his side. The moment is forgotten, the kiss never shared. “It was an accident.”

He nods, but he stares at you with watery eyes and your heart breaks. Scooping him up and into your arms, you walk him out onto the balcony. He tries not to cry, you let him know that it’s okay if he wants to. 

Gojo remains standing in the kitchen, the drawing still in his hands. He stares at it for a long while, letting his mind wander to a world where it’s more than just a little kid’s silly art piece.

-: ✧ :-

You shove the last of your shirts into your suitcase, frowning at the way it bulges out when you zip it shut. It’s the week of Christmas, four days before the actual holiday, but you’re only just leaving to go back home. 

Megumi’s on break, so is Gojo, so you’re not really needed. You wish you were—you miss both of them.

Setting the suitcase upright, you go down your checklist of things, making sure you packed everything. You still haven’t mentally prepared to see your extended family, knowing they’ll be chasing after you with questions about your dating life.

‘Have you gotten a boyfriend yet?’ 

‘Can we expect an engagement soon?’ 

‘Any plans for kids?’

It’s all horrible and invasive and you don’t get why any of that matters to them at all. It’s your life, your choices. If you’re not bringing it up yourself, there’s no need to hound you about it every single time you see them.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket from a message, and you’re unsurprised to see that it’s from Gojo.

gojo 🤑: hey bbg 😳

you: kys  what do u want

gojo 🤑: what are ur christmas plans 🤔

You furrow your brows at the question, wondering why he asked at all. every single year, you always do the same thing.

you: going home…. what else would i be doing genius

gojo 🤑: LAMEEEEE i was gonna ask if u wanted to come over ig but whatever u hate me 😢😢😢

You finish off the conversation, letting him know that you do hate him, and that you need to get back to packing.

Knowing his circumstances, you know that Gojo is probably staying at home with Megumi. He can’t exactly weasel his way out of explaining the fact that he’s managed to adopt a kid. It’s most likely why he asked if you had plans, despite knowing that you do. You know he’s probably feeling lonely—it makes your heart twist and tear. 

You fight the urge to ask him to join you as you drive home.

On Megumi’s birthday, Gojo proposes that you facetime him. You agree, obviously wanting to see the little boy who’s become so precious to you so quickly. The first thing Megumi does upon seeing your face is frown. 

“Leave your family. I don’t like Gojo.”

You burst into laughter at the sight of your best friend’s face, jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and offense. Gojo launches into a rant about how Megumi is ungrateful, which only makes the situation funnier. 

Megumi, however, finds none of this amusing.

“I love you, Megumi,” you say between breaths, “Happy birthday!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, but you catch a glimpse of his cheeks reddening as he runs off, leaving you with a still offended Gojo.

You watch him shuffle around, propping up his phone against something. “What’s your secret, huh? What do you have that I don’t?”

"I’m just better.”

Your smile must be infectious, Gojo ditching his deep frown for a grin of his own. His eyes crinkle as you’re met with the whites of his teeth, cheeks bunching up. You can’t stand the effect he has on you, the way you melt into nothing the moment he looks your way.

“I guess you and Megumi are just perfect for each other,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze through the call. “It’s cute.”

You’re stunned into silence at his genuine words, and your heart wrenches painfully as you picture the drawing Megumi came home with. Gojo ends the call quickly, telling you he’s busy. You don’t believe it but you let him leave, allowing yourself some space from him as well.

At one point, he frantically texts you letting you know that he forgot to get Megumi a gift, begging for ideas. 

gojo 🤑: I CANRT FINF HIS CHRISARMAS LIADT ANWWER ME THIAS IS AN EMERGYE SOS 🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘

you:  OMFG DO U HAVE AN OFF SWITCH have u tried his room.

gojo 🤑: omg look at u my little genius 🥰

You stare at his messages, finding yourself wishing for his emoji keyboard to glitch out and break. The next text he sends you is a picture of Megumi’s wish list. You’re fairly certain that Megumi doesn’t believe in Santa, but it’s cute that he’s written a list anyway.

They’re all fairly normal: art supplies, animal books, toys you’ve never heard of. But what sticks out is the last bullet point, written neatly. 

gojo 🤑: he wants u to be his family  quick wrap urself up with a bow and mail urself to us 🎁 u would make a cute present 😘😘😘

You disregard Gojo’s texts for the time being, focused entirely on Megumi’s last wish. The fact that you appeared at all is shocking, considering the fact that you’ve only known him for a little over a week. 

you: yeah i’m wrapping myself up rn

gojo 🤑: pics or it didnt happen 😋

You scoff out a laugh, typing up your response. Your mind is still dwindling on the wish list, on Megumi in general. He’s quickly taken up residence inside your heart and it feels good to know that you’ve been able to do the same. 

Christmas passes slowly, filled with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon spice and heart-warming laughter. Of course, you didn’t escape the questions from your extended family. As usual, you brushed them off, eager to get out of the only conversation they seem to want with you.

But you like Christmas, and this year, it’s made better by the several pictures Gojo’s been sending you of him and Megumi. In one, they’re ice-skating. In another, they’re making a gingerbread house. It’s all typical Christmas activities but it warms your heart and you want nothing more than to be there with them.

You expect the rest of your holiday break to slip by, nothing special or new. You debated heading home earlier, but decided against it assuming most of your friends already have their respective plans. 

You weren’t expecting Gojo to invite you to his New Year’s party. In fact, you weren’t expecting him to hold a party at all. As much as he likes parties, Gojo’s never one to throw one, especially at his place. 

In retrospect, going was probably a bad idea. If only you knew that before you agreed. 

-: ✧ :-

This kind of party is one you’re entirely unfamiliar with.

Most of the parties you’ve attended never exceeded over ten people, small gatherings of close friends clearing out their busy schedules to hang out together once again like they used to. These kinds of parties are relaxed, you don’t have to dress up, you don’t have to put up a front.

This New Year’s party is the kind that coaxes you into a simple black dress, perhaps too short, perhaps too low cut. This kind of party paints your lips a dark berry color that transfers onto your cup, filled with alcohol that burns as it slides down your throat.

This kind of party plays music so loud, it crawls under your skin, seeping into your head. You feel the bass reverberate throughout your chest, forcing your heart to beat faster like adrenaline coursing through your veins.

To say you feel out of your element would be a gross understatement. Everyone around you is almost a stranger, wearing features you only vaguely recognize, enough for you to shoot them a smile and a nod as a greeting. 

You examine your hands as you stand leaning against a wall, watching people dance, laugh, shout. You’ve hidden yourself away in the dark (rather pathetic, you think), not knowing how to engage and not really wanting to either. 

“I figured you’d be in some corner,” a gentle hand touches your elbow as Shoko squeezes herself past a small group of people to stand next to you.

You smile at her, grateful to find at least one familiar face. “You must not know me at all, Shoko, I love dancing with sweaty strangers.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on her and she lets out a laugh, taking a drag from her cigarette. 

You’re surprised that Gojo even let her smoke inside, but part of you feels like he’s unaware she’s doing it at all. 

She blows out, tendrils of smoke twisting around you both, invading your senses. Shoko looks at you out of the corner of her eye, somewhat relaxed, very curious. “You’re still in love with Gojo?”

You blanch at her words, turning to face her though she remains, still regarding you through her peripheral. 

“You’re too easy to read,” she smiles, her posture curved, allowing her to relax against the wall. “I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without telling him.”

It’s probably the alcohol impairing your judgment, but you frown, sighing into your cup. “My alternative is losing him forever, so I can’t exactly be picky.” You don’t intend on letting her into your thoughts this way, even if it’s only a sliver of the way you feel. 

It would’ve been better to brush her off with a joke. Shoko doesn’t seem to care, humming, “ I don’t know, I think you’d be in for a surprise.”

“Well, I hate surprises.”

Time flies by but the night remains young. You’ve loosened up a bit thanks to the alcohol, laughing freely, no longer worried about your attire. Your two person party in the corner steadily grew, Nanami and Getou joining you after some time. 

Gojo is still missing, but you suspect he’s out being a good host.

You’ve laid your head on Shoko’s shoulders, laughing at Nanami recounting stories from the tutoring he’s been busy with. Getou stands to your left, reaching out a hand towards you whenever you stumble slightly. 

Your cup is empty and you make no moves to fill it again, not wanting to exit the good conversation you’re having. You like hearing Nanami talk about his work, hearing Shoko complain about her lab partner, and hearing Getou’s jokes. 

The four of you decide to get some food in an attempt to sober up. It’s then that Gojo finally shows up. The crowd parts for him like he’s someone important. Thanks to the effects of the alcohol wearing off, you can tell it’s because he’s shouting his way through the crowd. 

“Why are you losers hiding from the party?” he asks, shooting Shoko a glare when she takes a drag of her cigarette. She simply blinks at him, making no move to throw it out. 

“Not hiding,” you respond, opening your mouth to bite down on the slice of pizza Getou’s trying to feed you. “Just eating.” Your words come out muffled thanks to the food. Getou shuffles his chair closer to your side.

Gojo lets his gaze settle on you, lips slightly parted as his eyes wander, taking in your dress and your half-opaque lipstick. You think you see his eyes widen, you can’t be sure. You think you see him almost gulp. You can’t be sure. 

Gojo reluctantly tears his stare away from you, watching his friend closely, jaw clenched. His anger is only invisible to you, the sight causing Shoko to laugh (she marvels at your idiocy often). He grabs a chair and pushes it up right next to yours on the opposite side, arms crossed. 

He sits silently, glaring at you and Getou, though you hardly notice. You’re too engrossed in whatever story Getou’s telling you. He reaches over to brush some hair out of your eyes; Gojo stands up abruptly, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Actually, I have some important news to tell you,” he says, words short and succinct as he drags you away from the table. 

You’re too confused to stop him from pulling you all the way to the hallway that opens up into his bedroom. It’s only then that you wriggle free from his grip, staring at him, wondering what his problem is.

“What’re you–”

Your back is pressed against the wall, he stands a few steps in front of you. He’s breathing hard and his eyes are blown wide and you wonder who this man is—the worry creasing his forehead makes him seem lightyears away from the satoru you know. 

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks, the sentence stumbling out of his mouth like he wasn’t quite ready to say it. Gojo doesn’t give you the chance to answer him, already talking once again. 

“Go you like Suguru?” he asks, taking a few steps closer, until he’s a hair’s width away from you. 

The question is so out of left field, you’re forced to take a moment and process it. Gojo’s gaze hardens at your silence, and you stave off the urge to make a joke out of this situation. Uncertainty makes your stomach churn—you’ve yet to see your best friend like this.

There’s a crease between his brows, lips downturned but not quite a frown. His words still hang heavy in the air, broken jealousy rearing its ugly head. His hand loosens around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull away.

You take a deep breath, feeling like you’ve taken in all the air left between you and him. “No. No, I don’t,” you whisper, heart beating so fast you almost expect the muscle to burst within your chest. 

Your admission makes his shoulders drop, the tense atmosphere almost melting away altogether. Gojo tightens his fingers around your wrist once more, bridging the gap between you both. He hovers above you, his free hand placed against the wall as he cages you against it. 

Despite the years you’ve known him, sometimes you find it so hard to read him, understand his motivations. Gojo leans close, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“So you just really like being mean to me,” he mutters and you furrow your brows, gnawing at your bottom lip. 

“I haven’t said one mean thing to you all night, Satoru,” you say quietly, eyes downcast, avoiding his attentive stare. His eyes, as blue as the sky, still shimmer in the dark and you watch from beneath your lashes as they shift to a dulled luster. 

Gojo drops his head into the crook of your neck, you can feel his lips move against your skin as he speaks, “There’s more than one way to be mean.” 

Your breath is caught in your throat. He’s running his nose up your neck, smearing a kiss below your jaw. Your lack of resistance only emboldens him further and he kisses the same spot once again.

And you let him, gulping back the unpleasant feelings that float to the tip of your tongue because who are you to ruin this? On another night, you might have untangled yourself from him, walking away and creating necessary distance between you both.

But he’s exactly where you want him, where you’ve been longing for him. 

So tonight, you simply mutter his name in warning, your voice cracking softly as he slides his hand around your waist. His touch burns, it's as though the material of your dress simply doesn’t exist under the weight of his palm. 

Gojo presses his mouth to your ear. When he speaks, he sounds so resigned, almost like the woman that sits in your mind, taunting you with the possibility of everything unraveling. She licks at your wounds and her breath burns.

“I feel so…stupid when it comes to you,” he rasps out, pulling you closer. “You drive me crazy and I don’t know what to do–” he cuts himself off before he gets too deep into his rambling. Anticipation steadily rises up your chest, higher and higher and higher.

“It’s always been you,” Gojo says, letting you see his face once more. he leans over you, simply staring, the loud music fading away until it’s nothing but a beat behind the incessant thrum of your heart. 

The woman makes herself apparent, hiding just behind your eyes, her words piercing your skin.

You gather the courage to really look at him, ignoring the way the woman in your head sighs, telling you it’s not worth it—telling you it’ll hurt. She tells you it’s only going to ache, and tear, and rip apart. You shake her away. his eyes have you trapped in them, drowning in his blue, your hands wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t waver, shifting his gaze down to your lips.

“I love you,” he breathes out, his words so full of promise you nearly believe it. But then you remember where you are, you remember what you’ve been doing.

Your hands rest on his shoulders, feeling the cotton material of his shirt under your fingertips. “You can’t mean that,” you reply in a whisper. 

The woman in your head shrieks at you until her voice turns hoarse and raw. You grab the collar of his shirt, closing the gap, your lips meeting his. Gojo fists the silk of your dress, creasing the material against his palm. Your trembling hand brushes along his cheek and he chases after your touch, tilting his head to the side, nose bumping against yours. He’s presses you into the wall, your spine meeting the cold plaster as goosebumps erupt down your arms. 

The woman shouts, the woman regrets. The woman tells you you’re making a mistake but she’s inevitably drowned out by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Gojo brings his hand up to your jaw, fingers squeezing desperately. His kiss is all tongue and teeth, he steals your breath away.

A fire festers in the pit of your stomach, it’s flames fueled by his touch, his warmth, everything him. It curls into a burning in your chest. Insatiable greed drives Gojo to take you into his arms, your feet stumbling against each other’s as you make your way into his room. 

Your back hits his comforter, you pull him closer.

The woman sits silently and weeps.

-: ✧ :-

You wake up with a dull pounding behind your eyes and a painful silence inside your mind. Warmth envelops you as you twist and turn under Gojo’s heavy blankets—it’s reminiscent of an earlier time. 

Beams of sunlight force your eyes open and you prop yourself up, elbows sinking into Gojo’s expensive mattress. Cradling your head in your hand, you take in your surroundings: the stark white sheets, Gojo’s sleeping figure next to you.

You watch him sleep for several moments, marveling at the fact that Gojo is asleep at all. He’s always had trouble with insomnia, seeing him rest so peacefully makes you smile. 

You let your gaze sweep over his face, pressed into the pillow, messy hair obscuring his eyes. His shoulders are bare, and if last time taught you anything, it’s that Gojo has no problem with appearing borderline naked in front of you.

Scoffing, you turn to check the nightstand for your phone, pausing when a cold draft seems to linger over your arms and chest a bit stronger than usual. A pile of fabric resting against the mahogany floors catches your eye, and you stare at it blankly before everything begins to fall into place.

Your fragmented memories connect, the night floods back to you, knocking the air from your lungs.

Your dress on the floor, the very obvious smear of berry colored lipstick against his jaw. Your incredibly apparent lack of clothing.

Panic digs into your chest. The woman comes into view once more, her unwavering gaze staring at you with contempt. She crawls out of your chest, standing before you, several heads taller.

‘You messed everything up,’ she seethes. Your heart beats faster. ‘He’ll never want to see you again,’ she says, her words stinging like a slap. It becomes harder to breathe. 

You don’t stick around to see what else she has to say, grabbing your dress off the floor with shaky hands. You pull it back on messily, grabbing your phone, rushing out of his bedroom as tears cling to your lashes.

Thankfully, everyone seems to have cleared out of the apartment.

You don’t allow yourself to think, opening up the front door, rushing down the stairwell until you’re standing in the lobby of his apartment building. It’s too cold—they always crank up the air conditioning even if it’s the middle of winter. 

The lady behind the desk looks at you with pity. You suppress the urge to vomit. Tears stream down your cheeks, trailing along your chin before they fall. You know you must look a mess. You wonder where else you left your berry colored lips. 

You call Shoko; she’s hungover when she picks up but she hears the pain in your voice and she hears you bite back your tears. She’ll be there soon, she promises and you stand, waiting. 

You sit in her car, staring out the window. She tries to make you feel better by playing your favorite songs—it doesn’t do much to help. The song reminds you of Megumi. 

The thought of Megumi sends you spiraling further. How can you face Megumi after this? How can you face Gojo? He might not remember, but you always will. You’ll always remember the warmth of his hands, the way he held you near like you were everything. 

The woman tells you you’re sick.

Shoko eyes you, taking in your tear-stained face. You don’t want her pity either, digging your nails into your palm as hard as you can. She’s stopped at a red light and she reaches over to take your hand in hers.

“You have to figure out where you both stand,” she says, calm and rational as always. Sometimes, you wish she could see things the way you do. You wish she could hear the woman who haunts you. 

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the seat. The car starts moving again. “I don’t want to.” Your stomach churns, an awful mixture of anxiety and hurt rolling up your throat. 

You slept with Gojo.

You feel sick. The woman slices at you with her knives. ‘You don’t deserve him at all.’

Shoko white knuckles the steering wheel. She never takes kindly to your tears, it took you a while to figure out that it’s because she cares too much to see you cry. 

“You should confess. It’ll be good for your heart and mind,” she suggests as you see your apartment come into view. You’re not ready to be left alone with the woman. The cuts from her knives are still fresh, they still bleed.

You shake your head ever so slightly. “No,” you reply, selfishness motivating your choices more than anything. “I’m going to pretend I don’t remember—I’ll act like I was too drunk to remember.”

Shoko disagrees with you, and she lets you know as much as she can before you’re getting out of her car, walking towards your apartment. Your dress feels too short, you tug it down. The sunlight burns your scalp and you rush indoors.

As soon as you kick off your heels, Gojo texts you. Your phone is nearly dead and you debate putting off responding, excusing yourself with the fact that your phone ran out of power. You grow too curious, though, and you read his message.

gojo 🤑: hey when did u get home?

The striking lack of emojis makes the text feel impersonal, far from the man you know. The woman laughs at you.

‘He hates you.’

you:  shoko picked me up 

You pause, debating whether you should add more. Let him know that you don’t remember, let him know that you believe nothing happened.

you: i rly went overboard on the alcohol ig  i barely remember anything 

You watch the bubble indicating he’s typing appear and disappear. Your nerves fizzle and buzz, teeth sinking into your lips until you draw blood. ‘He hates you,’ the woman whispers.

gojo 🤑: yeah me too lol

You hate it. 

You’re reading into it too much, you think, but the woman says no. Her lithe fingers encircle your arms, her sadness turning you sick. You agonize over your words, agonize over his texts. You can’t face Gojo. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to see Megumi again.

‘You’re selfish,’ the woman sneers, watching you tremble. ‘Do you think you deserve to see him?’

‘What would he think of you?’

‘You’ve lost both of them.’

‘You should’ve listened to me.’

You don’t know what to say to her. She draws her arm back and strikes you.

-: ✧ :-

The following day, Gojo informs you that Megumi asked for you to babysit him. 

You had decided you would say no, for your own sake. The woman agreed so it must be the right choice. But then he tells you that Megumi’s insisting—that he misses you—and how can you say no?

So you sit on the couch, right next to Megumi as he reads from his new book (a Christmas present from Gojo). He’s laying against you, his head resting against your arm. Neither you, nor Gojo, have said a single word to each other.

It feels wrong, this silence that fills the room. It feels heavy. It keeps its palms pressed tightly against your lips, keeping your words trapped inside. You wonder if Megumi can feel it too.

Reaching over, you gently brush some of his hair out of his eyes and he stills, turning around to look up at you. His eyes are wide, they waver as they flicker between you and Gojo.

“Did you guys fight?”

You notice the way he wraps his arms around himself, as if to soothe. He takes a long breath. Megumi’s eyes widen and you realize that he’s scared.

You rush to explain, “No! No, we didn’t fight.” He doesn’t seem to believe you; Gojo walks over to you both, taking a seat next to him. 

“We’re just tired, Megumi,” he tells him, a hand rubbing circles into his back. You feel terrible. 

‘This is all your fault,’ the woman whispers. 

It’s silent again as Gojo shuffles around, getting ready to leave for his Model UN meeting. He stands at the doorway, looking at you for a moment. You can’t read him, he doesn’t explain. Gojo waves goodbye and leaves.

You watch Megumi read for a few minutes more, the aftertaste of the previous conversation still lingering on your tongue. He must feel your stare, looking up from his book.

“You’re my favorite person ever,” he admits—he sounds completely serious. You’re taken aback by his honesty, your heart melting as a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth. You reach forward, opening your arms out for a hug. Megumi quickly wraps his arms around you.

His hands cling to the fabric of your shirt, “If you did fight with Gojo, please forgive him. Don’t leave.”

‘Look what you’ve done,’ the woman says, the weight of her words make you feel like you’re drowning. 

"I won’t leave you,” you reply, ignoring the woman and her hurt. Megumi looks back at you, holding out his pinky for you. You wrap your own around his much smaller one, “Pinky promise.”

You let him rest his head against your chest, your steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep. The woman reminds you how undeserving you are of what you have. You know the woman is right. 

When Gojo gets home, he asks if you’d like to stay for dinner. Every single part of you wants to say yes, and it’s at the tip of your tongue, the answer is habitual. But this time, you turn him down. You can’t stay longer—you can’t be around him. You slip out the front door before you can see the twinkle in his eyes diminish until it’s gone. 

You get home, lay on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, and call Shoko. She tells you to confess or die. You tell her you’d rather die.

‘It would be for the best,’ the woman snickers. 

-: ✧ :-

There’s a growing tension between you and Gojo as of late, clearly the result of what happened at the New Year’s party. You keep on acting as though you don’t remember the way he loved you, but it gets harder to do so the more you see him.

You can’t avoid him, you’d be breaking your promise to Megumi.

Everything left unsaid lingers in the distance you keep with him, and it unsheathes it’s claws, digging into you and tearing you apart. Your relationship with Gojo is strained. It hurts because he’s your best friend.

The woman reminds you that there’s no one to blame but yourself.

She hasn’t left you alone since the night of the party, tied to you like some kind of curse. She appears in the mirror when you criticize yourself, egging you on to say worse things. She stands by your side when you make a mistake, degrading you until you feel like nothing.

She’s having the time of her life. You just can’t get rid of her. She’s right about you.

This time, as you stand waiting for Megumi, his school is decorated in a plethora of pinks, reds, and whites. Valentine’s Day is swiftly approaching and it fills you with a kind of bitterness you keep hidden. 

Cupid’s arrows might have missed you this year, but there’s always the next.

Part of you realizes that it’s your own fault, waiting for Gojo to step up and say something. When that failed you, you waited for your feelings to disappear. Perhaps, you should have taken some initiative, forced those feelings out of you until every last remaining bit is ripped from your heart.

Your loneliness is your own doing. The woman laughs in agreement, your pain is nothing but a joke to her. Her laughter, however, is hollow and doesn't meet her eyes.

Megumi runs up to you as he often does, pulling you from your thoughts. The woman hides away to watch. He hands you a little heart shaped box and a card. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Megumi grumbles, walking off ahead of you to get to the car. You smile down at the chocolates and the handmade card. Something tender and sweet fills up your chest—you feel lighthearted. 

‘Do you deserve this?’ the woman snarls, reaching out to knock your gifts out of your hands. You hold them away from her poisonous touch.

Megumi holds onto your index finger as you lead him up the stairwell to Gojo’s apartment. You’re surprised to find him inside instead of at class, like he should be. He grins at you and Megumi as you both walk inside, his eyes dropping to the card and chocolates in your hand.

You watch as he stands up, stretching his arms up. His shirt rides up around his waist, you turn away faster than light.

“You got her something for Valentine’s but nothing for your old man?” he asks, grabbing Megumi so that he can plant a kiss on the boy’s chubby cheek.

“You suck and she doesn’t.”

“You are so cruel.”

Your relationship with Gojo remains rocky, but times like these still make you yearn for that domestic life. Sometime in the future, you hope you get to have this. 

Gojo lets Megumi disappear into his room, watching you sink into the couch. He follows suit, sitting down next to you. He leaves too much space between you, like there’s an invisible wall keeping him out. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up,” he says, though you don’t know what for. You want to say that you know, that it doesn’t matter to you unless you’re spending the day with him. 

“Yeah, but why would I care?” you reply, laughing though the sound comes out bitter and hurt. He grins at you, tilting his head. 

“Who knows? Maybe you have a secret admirer.”

You stay quiet for a moment, thinking about what he had said. Secret admirer or not, you’re confident it wouldn’t be the person you want. Gojo has better things to do, probably has someone to see. What would he want with you?

Why would he even look your way? You’re his best friend—that’s where you have remained for 14 years and it’s where you’ll remain for as long as you know him.

The woman sits to your left, reaching out her hand to smooth down your hair. Her gesture appears comforting but anxiety swirls deep within you at her touch.

‘Don’t let him know how you feel,’ she whispers in warning.

“So? I don’t care. I don’t like anyone right now, a secret admirer would mean nothing to me.”

“Oh.”

You face him then, taking in the soft frown he wears. His jaw is clenched, brows furrowed. The blue of his eyes, your favorite blue, lacks it’s usual sparkle. His shoulders hunched over; Gojo looks like a wounded animal. He looks tired. 

As soon as he notices your stare, he straightens up and gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He stays quiet for the rest of the night and you can’t help but feel it’s your fault. You remind yourself he’s tired, but the woman tells you that he must have remembered the events from the party. 

You leave his house sooner than you would have liked. Gojo says goodbye with a hug, his arms squeezing you tight, pressing you to his chest until you can hear his heart beating. 

-: ✧ :-

You feel like Valentine’s Day crept up on you too quickly, like you had blinked and suddenly the world is celebrating their lovers. 

It’s sunny and warm, the usual chill of February replaced with a gentle breeze that feels soft against your cheek and in your hair. Like it’s mother nature’s gentle caress letting you know that you’ll be fine today.

The woman stays quiet. 

You walk along the sidewalk in front of your apartment building. You had woken up today expecting something at you front door, perhaps from a secret admirer like Gojo had suggested. Nothing came.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth, your chest tightening, but you got over it as fast as it came. You refuse to fester in hurt, even if the woman fans the flames of your pain.

Blinking up at the sun, you watch the old couple across the street walk arm in arm. The old man had gotten his wife a bouquet of her favorite flowers (you know they’re her favorite because she told you so). She’s wearing a new heart pendant around her neck. Their hands remain intertwined as they head down. 

You silently plead for your chance at love. 

Today, Megumi’s spending the day at Nanami’s house, along with a few of the kids he tutors. You’ve been absolved of your babysitting responsibilities. You miss the little boy, though.

You’re only a few minutes into your walk when you phone buzzes with a text from Gojo.

gojo 🤑: ur not busy today right?????? lets go for a drive bbg 😉

you:  i wish i never met you.

You hardly mean it. Rather, you’re incredibly relieved that he’s back to his usual self, using horrible emojis to spice up his texts. You hate to admit it but you missed him. 

Maybe you were pathetic for spending Valentine’s Day with your crush, a man who remains just out of your reach. You don’t dwell on it as you climb into Gojo’s car, even when the woman bares her teeth at you.

Gojo plays sickeningly romantic music as he drives, making fun of you for spending valentine’s day with him instead of a boyfriend. You’re quick to remind him that he’s in the same position. He falls silent but you notice that the shine in his sky blue eyes are back. You hope, this time, that it’s here to stay. 

He parks a few feet away from a playground, the structures old and somewhat rusty. You realize that it’s the playground where you both first met each other. 

Gojo runs over to your side, opening the door for you. He walks next to you, his shoulder brushing yours, your fingers aching to be held by him. You let him pull you to the spot where his mother took a picture of both of you 14 years ago. 

It’s certainly strange being back here.

You hear him take a deep breath. Gojo’s facing forward, seemingly entranced by the swing-set in front of him. You don’t take notice of his shaky hands. 

“You were the prettiest girl I had ever seen,” he says finally, breathing deeply once again. “Actually– I thought you were the prettiest girl in the whole world.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask with a soft laugh, utterly confused as to what he’s up to. Gojo doesn’t respond, he just keeps going.

“I ran into you on purpose, if I’m being honest. I thought we could become friends and then I’d get to be around you all the time.” 

Gojo reaches out his hand, hesitating as he thinks. The woman stays quiet when he takes your hand in his own. “But then you basically told me to fuck off–”

“I did not! I said go away or something.”

“Thats basically what kids say when they want to say ‘Fuck off’!”

He laughs, the sound warming your heart. Soft tendrils of sun peek through the canopy of the tree you stand under, making him glow and shine. He appears almost ethereal. 

“I was glad we got to be friends,” he mutters, his grip around your fingers getting tighter. “But nowadays, I kind of wish we weren’t.” Your heart stills and the woman opens her mouth for the first time today, conjuring up her ugly words.

“You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” Gojo admits, his hand growing clammy but you barely notice it. “You’ll stay that way for the rest of my life—even when we’re old and wrinkly.”

“How sweet,” you grin, but it’s a front to hide the way he tugs at your heart, gentle hands keeping you in his grasp; it’s where you’ll stay for as long as he’ll have you. However, you still find yourself to be guarded, hesitant about Gojo and his words.

The woman tells you it’s not what you think it is. Her past misfortunes flood your mind, her sadness is contagious.

Gojo finally faces you, taking both your hands in his. His eyes watch you carefully and you wonder if he can see through them, see the woman waiting inside, hurt and scared. 

“I know you said you don’t have feelings for anyone,” he starts, looking to the side. You can feel his heart beating at his fingertips. “And I’m probably the last person you want to hear this from, but I owe it to you.

“I love you,” he sighs and it feels like taking a breath of relief. Gojo searches your eyes, vivid cerulean brighter than the sun itself. You reach forward, hands on either side of his face. You tremble and you shake—you can’t believe this is real.

He seems to understand, instinctively letting his hands rest against your hips. 

“Love you too,” you say, unadulterated joy lighting up your chest and your eyes. Your smile is blinding, cheeks hiding your eyes. Gojo steps closer while he pulls you against his chest. His heart is racing, but it could be your own that you’re feeling. You’re not quite sure where he ends and you begin. 

He cups your cheek, his touch soft and light. “Can I kiss you now? I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the party.”

You tense at the mention of the party, but you nod your head and shove that night out of your mind. You can shelve that conversation for later. 

Gojo leans forward with your nod, pulling you towards him. Your lips meet, gently at first, like you’re both unsure of how to go about it. He’s hesitant without alcohol to grant him courage, but as you wrap your arms around his neck, he grows bolder.

Gojo pours every last bit of his desire for you, his yearning for you, past his lips. You can feel him grin, and it pulls a smile from you too. 

You have him exactly where you want him.

When you return home, hand in hand, Megumi perks up at the sight of you both. Getou sits next to him, assigned to pick him up from Nanami’s place after Gojo decided to meet up with you.

Getou raises an eyebrow at your hand held tightly in Gojo’s, your head resting against his shoulder. “What did i miss?”

“Nothing at all,” you reply, holding out an arm for megumi as he runs into your embrace.

The woman simply smiles.

-: ✧ :-

Gojo watches you sleep, chest rising and falling steadily, your soft breaths being the only sound in the room. He sits and he admires and he’s struck with the overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms. Gojo wishes he could tell you everything he feels for you, but his emotions are often illegible jumbles of yearning, want, desire, and love—he just can’t put it into words.

He knows you’re it for him. He hopes you feel the same.

Gojo leans over and grabs the plastic water bottle left on his nightstand, the plastic crinkling. He winces, hoping it’s not loud enough to wake you. You remain sleeping and he smiles, fishing the small ring of plastic from the top of the bottle. 

It’s big, the real one will be tailored to your size, he thinks as he takes your hand. His touch is gentle as he slides the plastic ring onto your ring finger, watching it hang loosely.

“This’ll do for now,” he decides. the real one will be much prettier, but not grand. A shiny band with a few rhinestones– no, your birthstone. Maybe his too but he feels that might be too tacky.

Gojo lays back down, curling around you until his head is hidden in the crook of your neck. He hopes you’ll like it. He hopes you’ll say yes. 

He’s always loved you. For him, it’s always been you. 

thanks to mitzi and earth and six for hyping this monstrosity up so glad its not rotting away in my drafts anymore

For your event, fluff prompt 13 for gojo satoru please 👉👈

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓

~ satoru gojo ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : you’ve remained silent about your feelings for your long time friend Satoru for a while now, but when he’s the one being silent it’s suddenly not so normal

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, reader is also a teacher at jujutsu high

‧₊˚ a / n : hope you like this anon because absolutely love how it turned out! i think it’s one of my favourite shots i’ve written!

The view from the classroom’s window wasn’t exactly breathtaking. Your eyes examined the training grounds below, covered by the night sky and the wind blowing through the tree branches. Insomnia had been your most trusted companion for a while, so even though you were tired from the workday for some reason your brain wouldn’t stop buzzing. The classroom’s door opened, a sigh escaped your lips knowing perfectly who had closed it back and walked up to you.

Satoru decided to stand next to you, resting his lower back against the desk just like you had been doing for the past thirty minutes or so. Both of you stared at the calm scenery in a comfortable silence, you wondered how much longer would it take him to start talking but as time passed he didn’t say a single word. Restless, your eyes furtively glanced at him, but he remained silent and holding that characteristic smile of his.

“So?”

“So?”

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” you chuckled, curiously searching for an answer in his hidden eyes.

“What? Can’t I enjoy a moment of tranquility with my dear friend?”

You tried not to show how sour his comment had tasted to you, holding your smile and shifting in your place.

“Yeah, friend” your eyes went back to the window and quickly followed the conversation somewhere else “this friend of mine isn’t usually so silent. In fact, I doubt he even knows what the words “shut up” mean.”

The sorcerer snickered, jumping up and sitting on top of the desk.

“Just say you miss my beautiful voice.”

“Oh Satoru, I’m so glad you’re here, I missed your voice so much” you sat on the desk too, close to him.

“My beautiful voice” your friend corrected.

“I missed your beautiful voice so much!”

“I know dear, that’s why I came looking for you. I have this special ability of knowing when your heart sings for me so I run to find you and bless you with my presence” he leaned back and clocked his head towards you, a cheeky grin on his lips.

“You’re so considerate” you laughed, leaned in closer to him and flicked his nose.

“Ouch!” whining, he rubbed his nose and pouted “I’m so nice to you and you hurt me like this”

“Aww, sorry baby, let me kiss away the pain, alright?” you rolled your eyes, having no intention on actually following through.

“Alright” he grinned again, taking the bandages off his face.

As soon as his white hair fell down on top of his forehead his long lashes flickered towards you, stunning sky blue irises making sure to stop your heart immediately. He rested his weight on his elbow, keeping his undivided attention fixed on you and yours on him. The man was gorgeous, he had always been. And yes, it was probably so cliche of you to fall in love with your long time friend Satoru Gojo, but when he looked at you like that with that playful smile of his and those beautiful eyes there was no stopping the butterflies that fluttered uncontrollably inside of you, that longing for his love that burned deep down in your heart.

“Well?” he rose his eyebrows “where’s my kiss?”

You laughed again, making him laugh along with you.

“What makes you think I’m gonna kiss you?”

“I don’t know, maybe those deeply in love eyes you’re giving me”

Your face flushed immediately, you bit your lip for a second before giggling.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

His smile never left his face, he just licked his lips as his pupils examined your face and rested on your smile.

"When you laugh like that, it’s just - you're so beautiful, you know that?"

You probably blinked a bit too much, your eyes opened wide. It was normal for Satoru to make frisky flirty comments like that towards you, enjoying all the reactions he could get from you. But this one… this one was different. His fingertips then traced your jawline, guiding you closer to him. And so you followed, as naturally as chasing river flow, heart beating loudly in your ears. He tilted his head slightly, and then he softly kissed you. Lips caressing yours in a loving motion, a bit insistent, just a little bit curious, licking your lips and taking advantage of the surprised gasp you let out to explore your mouth with his tongue for a while. Your hand shakily traveled up his chest and your fingers weakly grasped the fabric in between. The kiss stopped just as softly and delicately as it had started, both of you lingering on each others mouths.

“I knew it.”

“What?”

“I always had a chance, didn’t I?” a sly smirk tugged from the corner of his lips, you frowned.

“I liked it better when you were silent” he giggled, but you smiled and kissed him again.

「How JJK Characters act when they have a crush on you」

⤷ Gojou

he would be slow to notice his feelings, but he doesn't bother hiding it when he does. casually flirts a lot with you, but does so in a playful or subtle way. sometimes, his eyes subconsciously drop to your lips when talking to you. so many little touches like slight brushes of the fingertips, a light rub of shoulders, or a game of footsie under the table. is endearingly protective over you and defends you a lot. he tries to make you laugh – either laugh along with you or looks at you with big hearty eyes as you laugh until your cheeks hurt. tries to impress you with random skills he's acquired just to get you to praise him. asks you to text or call him when you get home, or often offers to walk you home himself. unknowingly smiles so big while texting you and lowkey gets embarrassed when someone points it out or when he notices his own reflection in his phone screen.

⤷ Itadori

he would try to become your best friend before he even realize he has feelings for you; from the beginning he wanted you to trust him, to see him as your safe haven in the same way he saw you. and he also makes sure everyone knows that you two are close as the idea of ​​someone taking you away from him torments him more than he could explain. his friends would get tired or even find it funny how much he talks about you, how he checks his cell phone every minute to check if you texted him. when he asks you out with his friends, he ends up ignoring everyone just to talk to you; and sometimes he gets so excited to talk to you that he ends up stuttering and that's when he realizes that damn, he's fallen so hard for you.

⤷ Fushiguro

looks at you as if you should be protected at all costs, but also admires you and thinks highly of you; he notices your little quirks and habits and finds them cute and charming, and unintentionally ends up catching them too. he always wants your opinion on things because he cares what you think; so he’ll casually ask your opinion on which shirt color looks best on him. he also loves talking to you; he often asks you questions about your life and things you like - and always makes a mental note of everything you say. he also wants to be updated on your life and keeps you updated on his. lots of eye contact; soft but deep and intense looks that only the two of you understand.

⤷ Nobara

her face literally lights up when she sees you; more smiley around you but is also generally chill. she always tries to start conversations with you and keeps the flow going because she loves talking to you - and she always ignores everything and everyone around her just to talk to you. she is slow to notice her feelings, so her friends are more likely to notice first. she loves teasing you and loves it even more when you tease her back, it always makes her heart race faster. she’s also the type who probably won’t look away when you make eye contact, but also get nervous and annoyed when someone interrupts the moment. she initiates dates with just the two of you and likes to take you to her favorite places, but claims it’s not a date unless you want to.

⤷ Maki

likes to tease you, but in a good-natured way that makes you blush and your heart race. her voice and posture change with you, but when someone mentions it she gets nervous and says it’s a lie - but you both know it’s true. she also invites you to do simple things with her like; have breakfast together or just go for a walk in the late afternoon because she wants to enjoy every minute with you; she also loves discovering new things about you, what you love or hate, what you dream or desire. she always supports you in your goals and wants you to know that she will always be on your side. persistent looks and touches when you’re around people as if the two of you are in your own little world.

⤷ Geto

he becomes more talkative and cheerful around you and tends to ask a lot of questions about you; he tries not to overdo it, but he is just genuinely curious and interested. he tries to find excuses to touch you; subtly grab your hand a little longer after a high-five or ask for your hand so he can “palm-read” or compare your hand sizes for the hundredth time. persistent and deep looks and touches when you are around people and especially when you are alone. always buy snacks or sweets that you like. if you casually make a comment about how great a certain color looks on him, he will remember that and wear that color even more around you just to hear you compliment him. he likes to sit in front of you just to watch your face and affectionately give you his full attention while you talk and it’s in those moments that he finally realizes how much he wants you.

⤷ Nanami

it would take him a while to realize his feelings for you, and when he does, he tries to deny it to himself; he didn’t want to fall in love now, but it was impossible not to fall in love with you. he would take some time, but he’d let his feelings blossom in his heart; he’d be subtle and gentle in his gestures, but each one would be affectionate and deeply sincere; like being more gentlemanly with you and even more talkative around you; he loves to hear you talk and discover a little more of your universe and, with you, he allows himself to let his guard down. if someone asks him to describe his ideal type, his mind goes to you immediately as he describes your qualities. in a room full of people, he always finds himself wondering where you are as his eyes look around, the indescribable and pure glow in his eyes when you lock eyes from across the room.

⤷ Toji

he protects and takes care of you in little ways; he puts his arm in front of you or shields you with his body in crowded places. he offers to walk you to your house, car, or bus station at night. he also becomes softer and more indulgent; he willingly puts up with your teasings and sass without retaliating much. if you pay just a bit of attention, you’ll see the little lingering smile on his face at your witty remarks. he likes to gaze at you a lot; sometimes unknowingly and sometimes knowingly because he can’t help it. and there’s a certain kind of fondness and pureness in his eyes, but sometimes there’s also a sense of sadness to his gaze like he’s realizing he’s catching feelings for someone who might not feel the same; that you could break his heart to pieces and he would let you. and when you ask him why he’s looking at you like that, he smiles a small smile, his eyes softening before he says, “you know why,”

HEADCANONS + GOJO SATORU || motherly s/o

request: I have a sweet headcannons for Satoru, he maybe immature but I do like to think he’s a big brother/father for Yuji, Nobara and Megumi how he react if his s/o was super close his students and they them as sibling/parent to his students figure and was the s/o would do everything in their power to protect them???

note: a motherly s/o who loves him and his ‘kids’????? i love this prompt so much honestly? like this is so cute??? i am sure that the students will use your name against him all the time makes me crack up. i love it

pronouns: them/they

note: a few spoilers for anime watchers, small though

Keep reading

“operation: idiot in love!” —

SYP — local idiot develops a crush on the campus’ sweetheart and attempts to fight off anyone else out for her heart. (beach version!)

GEN. — fluff, crack

WARN. — satoru is an idiot in love, implied fem!reader, you wear a bikini/two piece swimsuit and have long hair, no curse au, current modern slang and humor used, 2008 satoru so everybody introduced is a teen (18-19)

NOTES — have this since summer break’s almost over 😼 um so were not gna talk abt how i didnt explain how reader’s the school’s sweetheart js let me have this kay 😞✊ not proofread yet

“guys, the love of my life is right there. i gotta lock in,” the white haired teen states, keeping his eyes trained on your figure who’s clad in a two piece bathing suit before unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his toned body.

both of his close friends groaned, one pinching his nose-bridge and the other rolling her eyes.

“um, im sensing a lot of negativity here and not enough support,” satoru scoffs, putting his sunglasses back on.

“you can’t seriously expect us to support someone who can’t even act normal within a mile radius of his long time hallway crush,” suguru chuckles sarcastically.

“oh, suguru,” satoru dreamily sighs, wrapping an arm around his black haired friend’s shoulder. “sweet, inexperienced, rude, blunt, unsupportive-”

“oh, just get on with it,” he grimaces at his friends’ theatrics.

“you don’t know what love is like i do,” satoru sighs, wiping an invisible tear.

“is love being a chicken and unable to talk to his crush without malfunctioning?” shoko chimes in, licking her popsicle.

she chuckles when she spots a look of disbelief and utter betrayal on her friend’s face. she watches in amusement as satoru stares with his mouth agape and shakes his head vigorously before scowling at her.

“you guys seriously don’t get it! she’s not just a crush, she’s the lo-”

“hey guys! i heard something about a crush?” you interject, walking towards the chattering trio.

“oh yea, satoru needs some advice, you know,” suguru shrugs, smirking when the now frozen satoru looks at him with an expression that just screams, ‘please don’t say anything.’

“maybe you can help him,” he suggests, nudging his friend closer to you.

you hum, turning to look at the white haired male. “oh! my friends say i give good advice so maybe i can help,” you smile and nod.

satoru gulps, heart beating faster and pale cheeks flushing pink. he can’t help but observe how beautiful you look, hair done up into a messy bun and wearing a bathing suit that compliments the colour of your skin.

he can feel himself open his mouth just to close it again, unable to form any coherent sentences.

“he’s positively and utterly hopeless,” his friends think simultaneously, watching the scene before them with a sweatdrop and a deadpan.

“guys, i blew it.”

“yea, you did.”

“without a doubt.”

satoru scowls and glares at his friends who were innocently shrugging and looking away. he sighs, his head on his fist as he watches you chat excitedly with another guy who’s clearly into you.

“satoru? are you okay?” you worriedly asked, taking note of his flushed cheeks and clammy hands. “do you not want my advice?”

“no, i- uh,” he stutters, stumbling over his words.

suguru looks at his friend weirdly before turning to you. “he’s probably just having a heatstroke.”

you blink before nodding, taking satoru’s hand and placing a cool water bottle in his grasp. “here, take my water then. get some rest and i’ll check in with you later. bye guys!” you wave, taking another quick glance at the malfunctioning cerulean eyed boy before walking away.

“yea, there’s no hope for you, satoru. you’re so down bad,” shoko shakes her head, taking a sip of the bottle you gave him. “oh wow, she gave you those expensive fruit sparkling ones. you’re special, i guess.”

this seems to cheer him up as he almost bounced up to sit up straighter. he whips her head to shoko then to suguru. “you think that? i stand a chance?” he asks, pointing to himself with a grin.

“dude, calm down. it’s just sparkling fruit water-” suguru tries to use common sense but he’s shut down by satoru’s shuffling to stand up.

“hush, this may be a sign, suguru.”

“you’re kidding me,” he sighs, facepalming as he watches his best friend march over to you.

he looks tiredly towards shoko, who innocently sticks out her tongue. “chill, suguru. he just needs a lil push.”

satoru hates the way that guy is looking at you. he knows who he is, sharing most of his classes with the guy. and the blue eyed teen knows how in practically every class he shares with the guy, he’s thinking about you.

he’s seen it all. he’s seen how he doodles in his notebook your name with a heart. he’s seen how every lunch, that same guy tries shooting his shot with you, trying to get your number and pathetically failing every single time.

if anything, that guy may like you more than satoru does. keyword, may.

“oh, it’s you again,” you chuckle nervously, backing up a little when the same guy who’s been trying to score a date with you for the past 2 months walks up to you.

said guys shrugs, flashing you a grin before looking you up and down. “you look good as always,” he laughs breathily.

you try your best to give him a polite smile, “ah, thank you.”

“aww, no compliment for me?”

“oh, sorry! i just don’t really know you that much so..”

“ohh, that’s fine. if you agree on a date though, you’ll get to know me a lot better-”

THWACK!!

the guy in front of you groans, rubbing the back of his head before scowling at the people behind him. “who did that?” he yells, stomping away to track down who threw a blue sandal at his head.

you grimace before thanking the lords that he’s finally away from you.

“hey,” satoru says, strolling over to greet you. “i swear, every time i see you, he’s always tryna get your number.”

you initially flinch in surprise before relaxing instantly upon recognising your white haired friend. you sigh before nodding and turning to face him, “yea, it’s getting really annoying now.” you shake your head before looking up at him.

“he can’t take the hint, for real.” he chuckles, before picking up the thrown sandal and shaking the sand off of it before slipping it back on his left foot.

“i guess you owe me now,” he smiles smugly, stuffing his hands in his pockets as you smile in realisation.

you giggle, covering your mouth with your right hand. “so you’re my knight in shining armor,” you grin.

satoru reaches out a hand to bring down your own that covers your smile. “don’t cover your smile, it’s pretty,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back to rub his nape.

you blink, processing his words before blushing and smiling bashfully. “well, thank you, gojo satoru.”

he smiles softly, bright eyes glancing at your lips every now and then. surprisingly, you notice this and shift closer to him, breathing out a laugh when you hear his breath hitch.

“i guess i do owe you, huh?” you teasingly look up at him before taking his phone out of his hand and adding your number in it.

you give him his phone back while he still looks at you dumbfounded. “you should call me sometime, yea?” you smile up at him before buttoning a button on his hawaiian shirt and walking away.

the white haired male watches you walk away with his mouth agape before hurriedly checking his phone whether or not you actually did put your number in his contacts.

“yo, did it work? did you finally bag the love of your life?” shoko whistles, slapping the back of his head before suguru walks over.

suguru observes his best friends pink cheeks and big smile before chuckling and shoving an ice cream cone in one of his hands. “look at his face. he probably did somehow,” he says shaking his head with a smirk.

“she’s the one, suguru.”

“for the love of- we’re not having this conversation again.”

“girl, are you kidding me? she already gave you her number so just call her!” shoko groans, hitting her friend’s head.

“im not a girl shoko,” satoru hisses, rubbing the spot she hit. “im a man.”

“a man who can’t dial the number of the girl he likes?”

“suguru, whose side are you on?!”

@xyaehir 2024. this is my content. do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. <3

Hi. Saw that your requests are open so... give me some Gojo x reader. Angst to fluff. I love a good angst however I don't want to give myself a grief by only reading just a heavy angst so yeah make the end fluffy hahahaha.

Can I give you a prompt? "I can't believe you would do this to me after everything I've done for you?" Looking forward to what you'll cook for me. Thank you so much.

Sending tons of love ❤️

-🍫🍦

Of course 🍫🍦 anon!

Triggers: Swearing, Break up (?), Nothing really. Safe for all to read!

Enjoy.

Gojo

It has been a bumpy part of your relationship so far.

You had started to notice how Saturo was staring at other people.

How he no longer looked at you with the same loving eyes.

You noticed his physical actions twords you were getting less and less, except when it came to sleeping with you.

Though unless it involved sex, Gojo seemed distant.

Whenever you wanted cuddle and watch a movie, he would mumble an excuse.

It would take you a long time to convince him to finally sit down and watch a movie.

But when you finally did convince him, Saturo wouldn't even pay attention!

He was always on the damn phone.

Every single minute of every damn day.

~

Sure you understood that his work would keep him busy.

However he was never on his phone this much, even with work.

You soon reached your breaking point when he started ignoring you completely at the table to eat.

You had busted your back making this dinner for him, and all he did was take a picture of it and post it onto his social media.

It was the last straw.

In that moment you sat up and banged your hands onto the table with a great force.

You could care less about the stinging pain in your wrists.

Your brain was more focused on the rage that spilled out.

Your heart couldn't hold the overflow of emotions, so it started to leak out from your eyes in the form of tears.

Tears that burned with exhaustion and stress.

It leaked from your mouth in the form of words.

Words laced themselves with anger and sadness.

"What the fuck Saturo?!"

Your sudden movements and reactions scared and surprised your significant other.

He started at you wide eyed, the sunglasses that he wore dropped to the ground.

And all he could say was a meek, "Huh..?"

That's when you exploded.

"Really?! Huh?! Fucking 'Huh'?! You piece of shit!"

He didn't even have the time to reply.

"I can't believe you would do this to me after everything I've done for you?"

"What the hell are you even doing on that damn phone?! I've been keeping quiet this entire time and haven't said a single complaint about you! You've been so distant I'm tired of it! Get the hell out of my apartment!"

You yelled, your voice's strength never wavering.

~

It had been a few days now, and Saturo had tried calling you over and over again.

But you simply wouldn't answer.

He had grown tired of waiting, and decided to go get you back himself.

So that's what he did….at 5 o'clock in the morning…

He spammed your door bell until you answered, you weren't to please.

"What the hell do you want?" You said still half asleep.

He smirks, your so cute when your tired.

"I came to.. apologies.."

(Oof that was a hit on his ego)

You cross your arms and place your weight on your hip and raise a brow.

"I'm waiting."

Saturo stood in silence for a bit.

Wait-

You were really gonna make him do this?

Normally you say he doesn't have to apologize.

Your not serious.

He thought.

But the way you held yourself right now told him enough, you were not going to let this one pass.

Saturo sighed and got onto the floor. He bowed, touching his forehead to the dirty wooden ground.

His actions surprised and embarrassed you.

You were really hoping in that moment none of your neighbors would see this!

"I am truly sorry my love. I will, form now on, keep all of my attention on you. The love of my life." He said peeking his head up.

Your cheeks were a dark red from embarrassment.

"Yeah- whatever. Just get your ass in here be for any of our neighbors see!" You said in a hush tone grabbing his shoulder and pulling him into the apartment.

He turned and looked at you with a smirk.

"Our neighbors? So I'm forgiven?"

~

In short: He's a smart ass.

Word count: 678

_________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

Break up

Infinite Rewind

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: Instead of dying, you are sent 13 years in the past, but this isn't your face. "Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

Word Count: 18.1k

(Warnings: slight yandere, death, murder, inaccurate Tokyo geography, blood, violence, mild gore, obsession, unhealthy relationships, child abuse/neglect, time looping(?), fem!reader) Ageless blogs that try to follow me will be blocked

First, you saw a monster. 

It was big and horrible—nasty teeth. You heard screaming. People. Running as fast as they could away from the creatures. Pain. 

And then, you saw a bright, clear sky. 

The sun was blaring down at you. It was so hot. Wasn't it December? How was the sun out at night? 

"Hey, you good?" 

A girl is looking at you. Short brown hair. She's peering down at you, wearing a high-school uniform. How is she wearing all black when the weather is so hot? 

When you don't respond, her eyes squint. 

"Suguru, are you okay?" 

That's not your name; your mouth moves faster than your brain.

"I-I'm fine." That wasn't your voice. It was deeper. More masculine. What the fuck happened to your voice? 

The girl gives you another strange look but you're too busy freaking out over your new voice. Your hands are different too. A completely different skin tone, larger. 

And then you're fumbling with your pockets, clothes you know you didn't buy. The girl is calling for you again but you're too busy pulling out a fucking flip-phone and looking into the black screen, the only thing you have for a mirror. 

Purple eyes stare back. These aren't your eyes. This isn't your nose. This isn't your hair. This isn't your face. You blink. He does too. You open your mouth. So does he. You pinch your cheek. In the reflection, he winces. 

Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone. 

ⴵ

Ten minutes later, you conclude that your name is Geto Suguru, you are a 16-year-old boy, the year is 2006, and you attend a religious academy. 

"You're finally acting normally again." The girl-newly discovered as Ieiri- says. "No more weirdness." 

You don't blame her, considering you grabbed her by the shoulders, asking ridiculous questions like: what year is it, who am I, why am I here, who are you, am I dead, is this Hell, etc. For a teenage girl, she took your outburst well. 

"Sorry," you say and by now you've gotten used to your voice, "it must have been the stress from studying." 

She just hums, continuing to walk beside you. Though, Ieiri had a point. You were definitely calmer, and it was mostly because you figured it out. 

You were dreaming. 

You were lucid dreaming, to be more precise. Your brain was conjuring up a weird setting and you just happened to be placed in another person's body. You heard about this happening before. You were just so freaked out because this was the first time anything like this had happened to you. 

An impulsive part of you wants to tell Ieiri that this is just a dream, but you've heard weird things happen after a lucid dreamer tries to break the illusion. It's best if you just let it just play out and see where this goes. 

“Excited?” 

“Hm?” You ask. And Shoko rolls her eyes. 

“For the mission you have this evening. Special grade. Sounds scary.” She says, her sarcasm evident. 

Mission? Special grade? You don’t know what those words mean but it sounds like a school field trip. Shoko takes your hesitance as something else. 

“Ah,” she says, “so you forgot.” 

“I didn’t.” You reply on instinct. 

“I expected this from Satoru, not you. You should stop hanging out with him, he’s starting to rub off on you.”

You give a sheepish laugh, and it’s enough to quell her questions. 

She leads you into the school, all through the winding halls and through an office door. You couldn’t be more grateful, it’s not like you would have known where to go. It’s a teachers room. Two people are already inside. 

“Wait, for once, I’m early?” The boy with sunglasses asks, voice dripping with amusement. He’s leaning dangerously on a chair. You stare at him. You’ve never seen someone with white hair before. It can’t be real. 

“He forgot.” Shoko pipes up and the boy cackles. 

“That’s hilarious. I’m starting to rub off on you.” Ah, this must be Satoru. 

You give a nervous smile. “Haha, yeah.” 

The boy stops rocking in the chair. Three pairs of eyes look at you. Your uniform feels itchy.

“Gojo, stop making such a ruckus.” The man, presumably his teacher, gruffs. "You two got the briefing yesterday. Do your job and for the last time do not leave your assistant manager behind again." 

Gojo groans, and you delve into more confusion. Before you can say anything, the kid is hopping out of his seat before lazily striding out the door. Shoko and the teacher look at you expectantly. 

Oh, you were supposed to follow him. 

Not wanting to make a scene, you catch up to Gojo. He's tall, his footsteps are long and wide. But you're tall now too, so it's easy to keep up with him. This new body of yours has a lot of pros. 

"Yaga's so annoying," Gojo suddenly says, "constantly nagging us like that. It's not our fault the assistants can't keep up." 

What should you say? You clear your throat. 

"He just wants what's best for us." 

Wrong answer. 

"Where'd that come from?" He snorts. How charming. "I know you agree with me. You're just tryna' act like the nicer one, again. It's starting to get a little old." 

Is that how 16 year-olds talk? Rude, but also strangely off-putting, like he can see straight through you. Or more accurately, he can see straight through Suguru. How close are these two, anyway? 

Why did any of these questions even matter? This is a dream! You need to wake up already. 

On the campus grounds, a sleek black car waits outside for you two. Along with a miffed man in a black suit. This must be a very rich school for a field trip to have a chauffeur. Where were you two going again?

Gojo hops in the back, taking one of the window seats. You take the other. In your own body, you would've fit nicely. But Suguru's legs are long, and the spacious car feels cramped. You should've taken the passenger seat. How do tall people live like this? 

The ride is quiet. Out the corner of your eye, you catch Satoru type away on his flip phone. A moment later, yours beeps. You still have no idea how to use Suguru's phone or his password, so you ignore his message. Satoru groans. 

Quickly, you learn that Satoru has a very low attention span. When looking out the window gets boring, he bugs the chauffeur. When the chauffeur ignores him, he starts bugging you. 

"Hey heyyyy," Satoru says, "when this is all over, we should go to that new ice cream place. Like you said, we should." 

You look at him. "Uh, sure." You say. 

"And you should pay for it, 'cuz you said you owed me last time." 

Fine, whatever. "Sure thing." 

He grins. You can't see his glasses, and it makes his smile even more unnerving. This kid. 

This doesn't feel like a normal field trip at all. Why did you stop in front of some rackety house that looked as though it were about to collapse? You turn back to the only adult in the vicinity, but he's out too. He takes out a lighter and a cigarette. In front of impressionable children, too. Wonderful. 

"I'll wait out here." He says, though his tone is uncaring. "Since we're out in the country, there's no need for a veil. Do your best." 

Veil? What? Gojo's already going off again and you've already decided to be his chaperone, so you follow. You reluctantly trail behind him. Feet crunch the leaves. The house grows bleaker and bleaker. 

"Okay, I have a plan!" Gojo exclaims when he gets through the squeaky door. He's so loud, can't he be quieter? "I check upstairs and you check the ground floor and the basement. Got it?" 

Check the house? Were he and Suguru electricians in training or something? That still wouldn't explain why a grown man decided to drop off two teenagers in front of a creepy mansion. And why in God's name did Gojo want to split up?

"I-I don't think that's a good idea," you say, "shouldn't we try to stick together?" Or, better yet, leave. 

He clicks his tongue. "Ugh, you're so lame. Not like Suguru at all." 

Wait, what did he say? You're about to call out to him when he climbs up the stairs, disappearing from view. Unbelievable. 

This kid was starting to get on your nerves. Enough, you were leaving. You could have a nice dream where you met and fell in love with Zendaya, not babysitting some teenager, whilst possessing another person's body. You were going to wait outside with the man and hope your dream finally came to an end. 

Except, you couldn't go outside. The door was gone. 

It-it was right behind you, right? The entrance was right behind you. You couldn't have gotten turned around so quickly? What the hell happened? Or maybe you had gotten turned around? Considering how distracting that Gojo kid was, you might not have realized it. 

You look around the house. Looks like it'd been abandoned for a while. There's dirt on the shelves. Chairs were toppled over and left to rot. The wooden floorboards dangerously creaked beneath you. Just what had happened here? 

There's no patio door. No door leading to the outside. At the same time, you hadn't explored everything yet. Each door led to a room. The only door that didn't, led to a basement. And no, you weren't going down there. 

When you got back to where you started, you noticed something had changed. 

There was a person. Seated right at the base of the stairs? 

Gojo? Was he done with urban exploring? Maybe he knew the way out. He stands up, reaching to his full height, then higher, then higher. 

Gojo was tall, but this thing was taller. Gojo was human. This thing wasn't. 

What the fuck you can only mouth because your voice is stuck in your throat when it takes a shaky step towards you. It's a black husk of a figure, too skinny but too tall and twitching fingers. You don't know how you could've mistaken this for the kid. 

Another step. You're running, back into the house, leaping over the fallen shelves and creaky floorboards. It gives chase, and you can hear it groan behind you. It's deep and rumbly and terrifying. It just motivates you to go faster. 

It's slower than you. That's good, but it seems to realize this. You can barely celebrate your advantage before something heavy is smashed into your back, sending you toppling to the floor. You and wooden chair crash on the ground. 

It hurts. 

Everything hurts. 

Dreams aren't supposed to hurt. Because this wasn't a dream. 

This was real. You were stuck in the year 2006, stuck in another person's body, about to get mauled by a monster. 

You were going to die. 

You aren't even fighting anymore. How pathetic is that? The shock numbs your body as the thing grows closer and closer, all you can do is reach your hands up, protecting your face. 

And then the creature explodes. 

An implosion. It's skin and bones twist in a way no one should. There's a shriek, something wrong and high and inhuman before it's gone. Like it never existed in the first place. 

After all that, he's still smiling. Like the cat that just caught the mouse. 

"I guess we're not pretending anymore, are we?" Gojo asks, stretching his arms. "That's good. That game was starting to get a little boring, anyways. Now, then." 

He folds his glasses, tucking it on his uniform. Blue, his eyes are. As blue as a clear sky. 

"Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you, and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"

ⴵ

Contrary to your belief, Gojo Satoru is a good listener. 

There's never an interruption. Not even once. Every once in a while, he nods, a hand on his chin. It's probably because he can't interrupt. You just keep going on and on. Word vomit. 

He only speaks when you pause to catch your breath. "So you are from the year 2017, and you went back in time to body-snatch someone. I had a feeling your technique had something to do with possession." 

You look at him warily. "Wait, you knew this entire time?" 

You two hadn't moved from your earlier spot. You were still sprawled on the floor, still feeling the adrenaline surge through you. Gojo had transitioned to squatting on the floor. He scratches his neck, still so casual. 

"I have good eyes. Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Anyway, you seem pretty harmless, and as annoying as it is not having Suguru around, I doubt killing you would do any good." Why is he being so nonchalant about murder? Is this kid really sixteen?

"I think we gotta' just wait around until your technique reactivates." Gojo whistles. "2017. That's like a decade away. I wonder what happened for your technique to show up." 

You blink, trying to remember the date. 

"It was Christmas Eve..." You glance at him. "And then I was here." 

He thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I got nothing." Of course. 

He sighs, before sprawling on the dirty floor, belly up. You grimace at his antics but choose to keep your mouth shut. 

He doesn't seem very worried. At the most, he looks mildly inconvenienced. Why isn't he worried about his friend? 

When you ask him, he just snorts. 

"Sorry, but you're not that scary. Besides, I don't have to worry about Suguru. He's strong." 

Well, that's nice to know, but one other thing still bothers you. 

"You speak so casually to me," you mutter, "You know I'm older than you, right? I'm 22." 

He laughs. "22? Damn. You're old, man." 

"That isn't old!" You argue. "You have no concept of age since you're just a teenager." And why did he assume you were a man? Oh right, you were trapped in a teenage boy’s body. Of course.

"I mean, technically, I'm older than you, right?" Gojo ponders with a grin. "If you're 22 in 2017, that makes you what—11 in 2006?" 

You say nothing because you have a feeling that if you continue to argue with him, he'll just drag you down to his insanity. 

"Technique, you've said that a couple of times." You look at him. "That's what you call your 'powers', right? Does Geto have one too?" 

"Yeah," Gojo says, "but you can't use it. You have zero cursed energy. Honestly, it's at the same level as a plant. A bit lower than regular humans. It's a little impressive, actually." For one second, could he stop being so condescending? 

"What's his technique?" You ignore his comments. "Could it be related to how I got here?" 

He gives you a look over. "I doubt that, but Suguru's technique is curse manipulation. Uh, you remember that thing you saw earlier." You nod. "Yeah, he can control and absorb them." 

He sounds pretty awesome. You look at your hands. Not your hands. Geto's hands. They're paler than yours, and a lot longer. This isn't your body. Your soul can feel it. You can feel the guilt too. 

'I'd give it back if I could,' you think, 'I just don't know how.' 

Gojo's getting up. He stretches. He was lying on the ground but you can't see a speck of dirt on his uniform. 

"Okay, then. No use mopping around." He grins down at you. "Maybe Yaga can do something about you. Let's get you back to jujutsu tech." 

You blink up at him. His hand is outstretched, reaching out to you. He's still grinning that insufferable grin but his eyes have slightly melted. 

"Okay." You say, barely touching his fingertips. "Let's-" 

And then Gojo's gone. And then, you're standing. And then it's cold. 

You're wearing a coat; weren't you wearing a uniform before? There's no clear sky. It's nearly dusk. 

You were standing on the sidewalk, where people bustled all around you. You fumble through your jackets, putting out a phone. An actual iphone. You flick on the screen. 

December 24th, 2017, 7:06.

Holy shit, you were back. 

Was it because you touched Gojo? That makes no sense, but how could you explain anything else that happened so far? God. You rake a hand through your hair. Your hand. Your hair. You can't believe how much you missed yourself. It felt so good to be back. 

Your mind is spinning, you had no idea what the fuck just happened.

For now, you just wanted to turn your mind off and grab a drink. 

You know there was a bar not too far from your location. Along the way, you pass by the bustling town. There's a couple walking side by side, giggling over something you couldn't hear. Right, it's the 24th. You remember your empty bed with no one to share it with, and you cement your desire to drown yourself in alcohol today. 

Your self-pitying session is almost how you nearly miss him. His shoulder brushes past you. You're about to apologize when you hear his voice. It's familiar. 

It used to be your voice. 

It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. His broad back is the only thing you see, you're almost afraid to reach out to him. 

"Suguru...?" 

He freezes like you've shot him. When he turns around, it's like looking into a fractured past. He looks older, no longer a youthful teenager. You should have paid more attention to his eyes, how scrutinizing they were, how condescending his fake smile was. All that you could think of was that it was actually him. 

"Do I know you?" He tilts his head. "Apologies, but my girls and I are quite busy." 

You don't notice the two young ladies beside him until Geto points them out. Teenagers, maybe just around the age when you first met him. He was a father now. 

You're so swept up by the emotions that you barely notice they've continued walking. You stumble behind, ducking behind the alleyway they went into. 

"Wait! Geto!" You call. "Please! We need to talk!" You still needed your answers. You didn't know care how desperate you came off as. 

In hindsight, you should have noticed that they looked more annoyed than worried about a stranger chasing them across the street. 

The one with the ponytail scoffs. "This one talks an awful lot. How annoying." 

Geto sighs. He leaves his daughters, finally standing in front of you. This is what you wanted, right? A chance to talk to him. 

Still, you can't help but feel wrongness within you. His smile is off. 

"Most monkeys are just that, unfortunately." You don't move. You can't. Not when he places a hand on your skull. "I suppose it'd be humane to put this one out of its misery." 

Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die. 

ⴵ

Again. You died again. 

This is the second time Geto has killed you. Fuck, you should've realized. 

"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks. 

He and Suguru were sitting outside in the grass. Satoru's holding up a few playing cards. You look at Suguru's hands and find yourself doing the same. 

Not again. 

"What year is it?" You ask warily. "And what did you just call me?" 

Gojo grins with teeth. You remember he compared you to a plant before, didn't he? He's so clever with nicknames; someone should give him an award. 

"Welcome back to 2006!" Gojo beams. "It's only been a couple of days since you left. And why are you so grumpy? I'm the one who just lost a player." 

You weren't grumpy, you were pissed. You figured out what's been going on with you, and it's all because of the asshole you're possessing right now.

The look on his face when he killed you. Like you were nothing more than an animal. A monkey. Now, you feel a lot less guilty about possessing his body. 

At least you figured out two things. You know how your technique works. Whenever someone kills you, you are sent back in time to take over their body. But you can go back whenever you touch Gojo, or perhaps just another sorcerer. 

Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories. 

It didn't happen the first time you died. It must have been because the kill wasn't direct (from Getos curse, rather than himself), but milliseconds after Geto split your skull in two, your brain was overwhelmed by his past, his present, as well as his future. 

Geto was set to die on December 24th, 2017. At the hands of his best friend, Gojo Satoru. 

Fuck him. Let the bastard die. You didn't give a shit. 

You reach over to touch Gojo's arm, ready to leave. He pulls back with a snicker. Ugh, the brat must've figured out your technique, too. 

"Stop messing around." You tell him. "I need to go back to my timeline." 

"Sure, sure," he says as though speaking to a time traveler is just another Tuesday. "But first, finish the game with me." 

"No." You tell him before leaning out even further. He isn't moving away anymore, but you still can't reach him. Fuck, he must've activated his technique. 

Despite your annoyance, you decide to keep the future away from Gojo's ears. He doesn't need to know that he'll be the one to kill Suguru. He shouldn't. Not at his age. He's just a kid. 

"Just one game! I promise!" He pleads. "Then I'll let you go. Suguru never lets me beat him, I want an easy opponent to boost my ego." 

You roll your eyes, but you settle down, picking up the cards. You already know the rules; you have Geto's memories, after all. 

It's silent, save for Gojo's humming. When you place down your King of hearts, you ask:

"Hey, is my cursed energy different at all?" You ask.

"Not really." He squints. "Wait, it has grown a little. Aw, Greeny sprouted!" 

So, every time you die, your cursed energy increases. That, or your cursed energy, increases every time you time travel. It doesn't matter either way. Does this mean you can use Geto's technique now? It couldn't hurt to try, right? 

There's a demon-no, they're called curses you know that now- floating beside you, just a little ways away. Small. Barely fourth grade. You stick your hand out, calling out Geto's power. There's a pull, a rush of energy. 

A blue ball drops into your hand. 

"Holy shit." Gojo leans forward. "So you can use his techniques." Surprisingly, there's no wariness in his voice. Just awe. 

"Yeah." You breathe before glancing up at him. "Shouldn't you be focused on your cards?" 

He shrugs, tossing the cards away. "What cards?" 

You sigh before staring at the ball. Well, you captured the curse. All that's left to do is swallow it, right? You can do that. You open your mouth. Gojo is still staring. You scowl. 

"Look away." 

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I haven't seen you do this before. Well, not you, the guy that you bodysnatched." 

Ass, you keep that in your head as you hold your breath. You swallow the ball down. 

Instantly, you choke. 

It's horrible. Like a rotten carcass on the highway, oozing blood and oil and pus. You start dry-heaving, suffocating, spit dribbles down your chin. Nothing comes out. You've already absorbed it. The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. Like swallowing a rag that was used to wipe up vomit and shit. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. 

"Is it really that bad?" Gojo observes you. "That guy swallows them down, no problem." 

Because Suguru was used to this taste. He was used to the responsibility. The hoarding mass of distraught absorbing a curse comes with. It was a disgusting art. Something he'd perfected to mask for years. Until he couldn't take it anymore. 

Fuck, you might have lost your mind, too, if you kept having to eat this. To protect people who were happy you failed. 

You snapped out of it. Suguru's memories were affecting your own. That's probably a sign that you need to get out of here. No way would you be sympathizing with someone so monstrous. 

"Hopefully, I never do that again." You slowly recover, wiping your spit away with your hand. You lean back on your hands, exhausted. 

"Something I've always wondered." You call out to Gojo. "What did Suguru ever think about someone possessing his body." 

Gojo laughed. "Funny thing. He never knew." 

"What?" You look at him. "No gaps in his memory? Nothing?" 

"Nope," Gojo said, "he remembered what happened in the house, but he thinks he did everything. And then he said something weird." 

You perk up at that. "What did he say?" 

Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs. 

"I forgot." Typical. 

You pinch your nose bridge. "So, did you tell anyone else about...this?" You gesture to yourself. 

"Wait, you're supposed to be a secret?" You look at him in alarm. "In my defense, I didn't know, but I haven't gotten the chance to tell anyone. After the mission, Suguru and I went to the arcade, and then I kinda' forgot about it." 

Well, at least Gojo's arrogance works in your favor sometimes. You can't let anyone know, especially anyone connected to the higher-ups. From Geto's memories, you know they don't like anything new. It's best to stay under their radar. 

"Good, well, from now on, we're keeping it a secret. Got it?" 

"What are you two keeping a secret?" A new voice pops up. You jump. 

You know him—at least from Geto's memories. Haibara beams at you. He looks so alive in the sunlight, smiling and with bright eyes.

He'll be dead within a year or so. 

Gojo takes advantage of your shock. "The bodysnatcher wants me to promise that I won't tell anyone that a curse-user is possessing Suguru's body." 

"What the hell? You just promised that you wouldn't tell anyone!" 

"Uh, technically, I didn't promise anything yet." Gojo retaliates. "But okay, fiiiiine. I won't tell anyone....except for Haibara." You groan. 

"What's going on?" Haibara's smile fades. "Wait, Gojo, is this not Geto? Is this person actually a curse-user!?" 

"I'm not a curse-user." You correct. "I'm not a sorcerer either, for the record." 

"You just used a curse technique to travel back in time to take over someone's body." Gojo enunciates. "Sounds like a sorcerer to me." 

"Wait, you're a time-traveler, Mr. Not-Geto?" Haibara asks and you are genuinely impressed he's able to keep up. 

"The name’s Greeny, Haibara." Gojo supplements. Haibara nods, still a bit unsure. 

"So...do we fight Greeny?" 

"It's not my name." You get ignored. 

"Nah, it's all good. Greeny's harmless. Just a weakling, don’t worry about it." Rude, but you don’t think you’d want Gojo to take you as much of a threat, not after knowing what he can do.

"Oh, okay!" Haibara instantly relaxes. The kid's really trusting, huh? 

"Okay, fine, but no one else can know, got it, Gojo?" This promise doesn't matter. It's not like you're planning on returning to the past anytime soon. As soon as you return to the present, you are leaving Tokyo and escaping the night parade of 100 demons. Fuck that. You don't want to die again. 

He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."

He's so insufferable. You don't know who's worse: the genocidal maniac or this brat. 

"Give me your hand. I want to go home." 

Haibara looks confused. "Wait, why does Greeny need your hand?" 

"It's how the curse technique works," Gojo explains. "Greeny gets sent back in time, and then my true-love's touch sends him careening forward into the future." You frown at his comment, but he turns to you before you can say anything. 

"Which reminds me, Greeny: ever figure out how your technique works?" 

No way are you telling a kid that their best friend killed you....twice. Instead, you just shrug. 

"Haven't figured it out yet." 

Gojo stares at you. "Huh." He responds. "Well, if you ever figure it out, lemme' know." 

Sure you will. You hold up your hand. Gojo, finally holds his own up. Out of the corner of your eye, Haibara waves. And then you're back in your own body, on December 24th, 2017, 7:06 pm.

You waste no time. You push at the crowd, squeezing through the hoards of people. You need to get out. You need to leave before the death parade starts, before you're trapped in that terrifying cycle of death again. 

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

No no no. Shut up. This wasn't you. This was Geto's memories. 

Exorcised. Ingested.  

You need to leave. 

Exorcised. Ingested. 

You need to survive. 

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. 

You stop, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. People glare, cursing as they move around you. They don't know this place will be a bloodbath in a matter of minutes. They'd all die. But you could stop it. 

If only if you hadn't accessed Geto's memories. If only if you hadn't eaten that damn curse. If only if you hadn't sympathized with a murderer. Maybe you'd have the courage to escape your future. 

But you'd felt that taste. Horrible. If you eat enough, you could go insane. If you were lonely enough, that would do it too. 

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. No one except for you. 

At 8:06 the screams start. The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more. 

ⴵ

For once, when you open your eyes, Gojo isn’t there with you. 

You’re still on the campus of Jujutsu tech. Suguru was just about to grab his soda from the vending machine. You finish his job. The can feels cold. It feels refreshing on your tongue. It’s a momentary distraction to the fact that you have no clue what you’re doing. 

You understand your cursed technique, but you still struggle with the application. Fuck, what did you do? You were utterly fucked. You’re playing a dangerous game. If you died- if Geto died- here, what would even happen? 

 The worst part is that you can’t even think of the hypothetical because there’s no other choice. You needed to do this. To not only save the people in Tokyo from the Night Parade, but to also save Geto Suguru. The man who has killed you three times now. 

Geto’s dissent starts to worsen at Riko Amanai’s death. If you could prevent that from happening, you could probably change history. But Geto’s true fracture begins with the curses themselves. They were rotting him from the inside.

You grimace, but you have to do it. You have to eat every single curse that Geto couldn’t swallow down himself. 

One was coming up. In less than an hour, Yaga will call you and Gojo for a mission. It’ll be a special-grade grave-type curse. Dispatching it will be simple, but Geto would be the one to exorcise it, ingesting the screams of all that the curse devoured. You needed to prepare yourself for that. 

Maybe you should save some of this soda to wash the taste off later. 

“Geto!” Someone cheers, you jump, but Haibara’s already poking his head around the wall. He grins. 

“Hey! Oh, you’re not Geto, aren’t you?” He tilts his head. “Greeny?” 

“Keep your voice down,” you whisper, “wait, you can recognize me?” 

He nods, after checking to make sure no one’s around, he says, “yeah, your eyes are different? It’s hard to explain.” He tells you. 

Huh. Interesting. 

“You’ve been gone a while.” Haibara beams. “It’s been a few weeks. I’m glad you’re back, Gojo was starting to get cranky.” 

It’s probably because he had no one to mess with. Poor him. He has all your sympathies. Ass. 

“I’m glad to return as his punching back.” You mutter. 

Haibara shyly shuffles his feet. 

“So, are you really from the future?” He asks. “Was Gojo telling the truth?” 

You nod. “Haibara, you haven’t told anyone, right?” 

“Of course not!” He instantly says. “Not a soul. Not even Nanami, and I tell him everything! Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“And Gojo, too! I know he doesn’t look very trustworthy, but me and him have kept it under wraps.” 

Reluctantly, you can’t help but agree with the kid. Gojo is annoying, but so far, he hasn’t done anything super harmful. 

“So anyway, Greeny.” He clears his throat. “Considering you’re from the future and all. Would you mind telling me what my future will be like?” 

You blink at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. “Nothing much! I just wanna know what I’ll be doing in 2017. Will I finally be a grade 1 sorcerer?” 

You think of Geto’s final memories of Haibara. A child burying another child. 

“Sorry,” you lie through your teeth, “but I didn’t know you in my future. Again, I’m not really a sorcerer.” 

Haibara nods, disappointed but still very excitable. He asks you about other things about the future, and you try to answer to the best of your ability, but you can’t shake off his dead glass eyes, staring at you from the morgue. 

“Another thing, we should have a code word.” Haibara exclaims. 

You blink. “A code word?” 

“If we ever meet in the future,” he explains, “y’know, in 'Groundhog’s day', he has to keep explaining what’s happening repeatedly? In order to prevent that, we should have a secret word between eachother so I instantly know who you are.” 

Not the same exact situation, but it sounds like exactly something a child would come up with. You indulge him anyway. 

“Okay, what did you have in mind?” 

“Well, it can’t be anything too crazy, or we might attract unwanted attention.” Haibara puts a hand on his chin in serious thought. You smile. 

“Got it! If you ever see me, just yell ‘brocolli head’ really really loudly. Then I’ll know.” Haibara chirps. 

“Wait, why broccoli head?”

“Because broccoli heads are green!” Haibara chirps happily.

You’re starting to learn it’s best not to question his logic.

You nod, very amused. “Sure thing, Haibara.”  

Someone calls out his name. He jumps before he waves to you. You watch as he joins with Nanami. They talk about something you can’t hear. Haibara laughs and you decide it would be a shame if his laugh was lost to death. 

Gojo finds you eventually. You can’t hide from him forever. You were walking into the school when he caught up with you. He’d ran there. His breath was slightly ragged. 

“Greeny, couldn’t get enough last time, huh?” You shoot him a look. 

“What are you talking about? Doesn’t matter, we need to go, the missions coming up.” 

Gojo’s smile dips ever so slightly. “How’d you know about that?” 

It’s probably not a good idea to tell the guy's best friend that you’re possessing that you’ve unlocked his memories. 

“Haibara told me.” 

“Ah,” He replies, “let’s go then.” 

The car ride is different this time around. Less tension. You aren’t as confused. Gojo is seated quietly beside you, watching the scenery go by. The assistant is too preoccupied with belting the radio to notice Gojo's words. 

“Figured it out yet?” He asks. “Your technique.” 

He's persistent about that answer, isn't he? You're sure the only reason Gojo cooperates with you is because he thinks you're inhabiting Suguru's on accident. How would he react if he knew you were doing it intentionally? It's best not to get on the strongests’ bad side. 

“Oh, not really, but I think it’s random. I can’t seem to find a set pattern. Maybe Suguru calls out to me, somehow?” 

“Maybe.” Gojo replies. His time is flat. Anxiety flips through your stomach. 

“You’re different this time around,” Gojo says. 

“Am I?” You ask. “I guess I’m just more determined today.” 

He gives you a look over. "Oh yeah? What for?" 

"The curse. I'll exorcise it, today." 

You don't know how you wanted Gojo to react to that, but you're still disappointed when he turns back to the window. 

"Do whatever, Greeny." 

In the end, you do swallow the curse. You manage to hold your gags in this time. 

It's worse than before. It makes sense. This curse was first-grade. Stronger. In terms of taste, it was like curdled blood and mold. You were so grateful for that soda. 

Gojo only watches with a tilted head. 

"You're getting better at that."

You give a weak grin. 

"Practice makes perfect," you reply, "do you think I'll get strong enough to absorb a special grade soon?" 

He doesn't like your question. You can see it in his stiff expression. 

"Maybe. Why do you want to swallow up curses, anyway? Last time you were here, you were practically begging to go back." 

His response wasn't exactly hostile but far from his usual playful attitude. You knew you'd have to confront this eventually. Despite how nonchalant he acted, it's clear Satrou doesn't enjoy watching someone prance around in his friend's body like this. If he starts to dislike you, it could rupture your entire plan. You need his cooperation, more than anything, to save Suguru. 

A little bit of the truth. Just a bit. It can't hurt, can it?

"Curses taste horrible," you say, looking at the ground. You can still taste the remnants of it, "it's the worst thing in the world. I can't even explain how wrong it feels to eat one. I thought...while I'm in his body...I could maybe help Suguru a little. I could ingest the curses in his stead, so that way, he still gets to absorb it." But it'll lessen the trauma it has on his mental state. 

You can't see how Gojo feels about that. Those glasses of his cover everything. But you know he's staring at you. The six eyes are taking you apart, observing you whole. 

"Did you know Suguru in the future?" He asks. 

"I didn't." The man that killed you. The man that will keep killing you. And you'd forgive him each time. 

Another beat of silence.

Finally, he just sighs. "You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?" 

You give a sheepish laugh.

"That isn't a compliment, by the way. You're just really reckless. And maybe stupid, Greeny." His tone isn't mean. 

"My name still isn't Greeny." You tell him. 

"Oh yeah, what's your name, then?" He's reverted back to that teasing lilt, and it almost makes you relax if you don't note the curiosity underneath. 

So far, you've been lax giving away information regarding the future, but you don't think you should continue that. What if you're too careless and the future changes in a way you didn't intend? A name, personal information, that could be way too dangerous. 

"Actually, just call me Greeny. I like that name a lot better." 

"You complained about it all the time, though?" Gojo argues. 

"It's starting to grow on me." You grin. "Grow? Get it, because you compared me to a plant and-"

"Stop stop, you really are an old man." Gojo groans. You just grin wider. Then, you grimace.

“I can still taste it.” You complain. “I’d kill for a cigarette right now.”

“I caught our assistant manager smoking a while back,” Satoru suggests. “Maybe you could go and beg him for one.”

You toss him a look. “Suguru doesn’t smoke, and I’m not giving a teenager a nicotine addiction.” You have found lighters inside Suguru’s pockets, but you have a feeling it isn’t for his own cravings.

"Hey, could you do me a favor?" 

He gives a wordless hum.

"Maybe after this, could you take Suguru out to a cafe'? I can taste the aftertaste of the curse." You shudder. "Just get him something to wash it down." 

Also, Suguru couldn't go back to his dorm after this. Suguru dissented because of his fractured relationship with everyone, not just with Satoru. You'd try to bridge the gap between him and his peers as much as you can. You go through Suguru's flip phone, asking Shoko if she wants to join the two. 

When you're done with that, you snap the phone closed. 

"Okay, I'm done here. You two have fun, okay?" You raise your hand. 

Gojo just huffs, amused. "Sure sure. By the way, someone wanted to thank you." 

You blink at that. "What?" 

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."

He gives you a high-five, and then you're back in 2017 in your own body. 

Temporarily. So far you figured out that you get sent back an hour before the night parade happens. 8:06. Considering you have a couple more minutes to kill before you’re killed, you reach into your pocket for that cigarette you’ve been craving. You pick the first out of the box, cherry burns just out of corner of your eye.

You notice things now. The children giggled to their parents. Old couples gingerly held hands with sweet smiles. You'd save them, but first, you need to save Suguru. 

And do really do that, you'd have to save Riko. 

Easier said than done. You could go back in time, but you can't really control when to go back in time. It's been random, but your trips are typically two days away from each other. You can work with that. 

But in order to get to Riko's death, you'd have to die...a lot. Absorbing curses made Suguru lose his mind, but how well would you fare with dying over and over again? 

"Hungry?" 

Someone looms over you. A woman. She's pretty, with short hair and bangs. In her hand, she holds a bag of chips. 

"The vending machine gave me an extra." She gives a laugh. She kind of sounds like you. "Would you like one?" 

"Oh." You take it. "Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." She trots off into the crowd. You watch her.

A stranger's act of kindness. She didn't even know what would happen to her soon. You grip the bag, it crinkles in your grasp. 

It didn't matter how well you'd fare with dying over and over again. You'd get over it. So many innocent people depended on you. You can't just abandon them like this. 

You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right? It's aggravating how accurate he is, honestly. 

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

It takes a few cycles to finally reach the day Amanai Riko is assassinated. Whenever you deem yourself too early, you often accompany Gojo on a mission and exorcise a special-grade curse. Your overall plan is working, bit by bit. Each time you return, Suguru's memories swarm you. Each curse he remembers as less painful. 

It's why you get worried when you get there a little too late. 

"Something wrong?" Riko asks. 

You've stopped in the middle of the hallway, and of course, they're looking at you strangely. You know this place. Tengen's barrier is just an elevator ride away. Suguru, Riko, and Miss Kuroi were all almost there.

Fushiguro Toji has already arrived. 

In the first timeline, Geto leads the girls all the way down to Tengen's barrier. He puts his trust in Gojo. Of course, he would. They're the strongest. And in the end, Gojo does kill Toji. 

But the kill comes too late. Riko still dies, and the fracturing happens. 

You thought you'd have more time. If you had arrived a bit earlier, you could have fought with Gojo, and the chances of defeating Toji would have significantly increased. 

What do you do?

"What's the matter?" Miss Kuroi asks. She's supposed to die today, too. 

"Sorry, ladies." You smile. "But I need to go back for him." 

You don't answer their calls, running back up the hallway. The sun's bright, shimmering beautifully in the sky.

It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor. 

Gojo's lifeless body is draped across the rubble. It's a horrifying sight. Eyes that were once like the sky are just this empty blue. A dead sea. He isn't breathing. You know, if you touched his wrist, you wouldn't feel a heartbeat. 

"Hate to break it to ya', but the Gojo kid's dead." Toji's right behind you. You can feel him grinning. 

You know Gojo isn't dead. At least, he won't be dead for a while, but seeing the boy who used to tease you, annoy the shit out of you, laugh at you, be so....it made you freeze. Falter. 

You were wasting time. 

"Sorceror killer." You say after a minute. You almost can't bring yourself to turn, to look at him. The man who kills Gojo. The man who could've killed Suguru, but chose not to. "You certainly live up to your name." 

Toji's grin widens. The only man in the world with zero cursed energy. It'd be awe-inspiring if it weren't so terrifying. 

It's funny. You weren't afraid of dying, not anymore. You were afraid of failing. Failing when you were so close, when victory was just a blink away. 

"The flyheads." You mention to the swarms of curses all around you. "That's really smart." It gives you an idea or two. 

You have Suguru's memories, but they aren't always concrete. You just have snippets. A general idea of what happened within a certain event. It makes sense. Humans can't remember everything. 

But regarding the memories of Suguru and Fushiguro, everything is crystal clear. It's almost like you were there when it happened. 

It also means that you know Suguru, at this current level, won't be able to defeat Fushiguro. 

But Suguru doesn't need to beat the sorcerer killer; he just needs to hold him off. 

Currently, Suguru's body contains 368 curses: 3 special grades, 24 grade ones, 33 grade twos, 103 grade threes, and 205 fourth grades. 

You release all 368 of them. 

In another timeline, these curses would look to you as something to devour. Today, these curses have a new target. 

It won't stop Fushiguro. You're not dumb enough to think that. But it should give you time. Hopefully, it'll be enough time. 

Your knees hurt when you collapse next to the corpse. Gojo's so beautiful, even when he's dead. 

"Gojo." You shake him. Nothing happens. "You need to wake up. Gojo." 

Nothing happens. You don't know what caused Gojo to become the strongest, Suguru wasn't there. For once, you are blind to the past. 

"Riko needs you. Wake up. You-you need to go and save her and Miss Kuroi." 

His body's so cold, and you know he's dead because when you touch his skin, you don't wake up in the present. You push against his body, and he falls limply right back to place. You're sure this sight will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

"Satoru." You beg. "It's Greeny. Please, please, please wake up."

 Nothing happens. 

Everything happens. 

The brightest blue you've ever seen. It's heavenly. A glow that warms and chills your skin. It takes a while for you to see again. When you do, Satoru is standing. 

Somehow, his eyes are even brighter. You don't think you're looking at a teenage boy anymore. 

You're sitting in front of God. 

"Greeny." he states, voice flat. "You're late." 

You manage to smile.

"Sorry." 

You’ve seen Satoru fight before. He’s always calm, body relaxed as he practically floats in the air. Those fights differed from Suguru’s memories—post Satoru’s awakening. There’s always this twinge of desperation. An aftertaste of bloodlust.

But seeing it for yourself is something else entirely. Even with Suguru’s heightened senses, you still can’t follow him. He’s barely a mirage. One milisecond you can see a blue flash, the next you see nothing.

It's barely a fight. Not this time around. Fushiguro is completely unmatched. There's a flash of purple. And then, it's over. 

Fushiguro is in shambles. You didn't realize he was human until he started to bleed and shatter. Parentage over labor. It's sobering, in a way. 

Satoru's mouth moves. You're too far away to hear anything. They stand there for a few more seconds until Fushiguro slumps. Then, he falls.

You wonder when you got so desensitized to death. 

Gojo stands there. You should let him compress, but the clock is ticking. You need to do one more thing before you can let Suguru go. 

"You need to go." You say when you're close to him. He doesn't acknowledge you. "Riko's about to enter Tengen's barrier." 

He looks at you right then. His eyes. They're so bright, but they're strangely lifeless. Like he can't process you, your words. 

"I can see you now," he says, "it was so foggy before, but now, you're crystal clear." 

Six eyes look at you. You don't think you're hiding behind Suguru's face anymore. 

You clear your throat. 

"Gojo." You remind him. "Riko. You need to stop her." 

He blinks back into focus, rising from his high. 

"Oh," he says after a moment, "right." 

You stop him before he can walk any further. You hold out your hand. 

"You and Suguru." 

For the first time in a while, Gojo hesitates to send you back. You wait a couple seconds longer. 

"Yeah," he finally says.

His skin still feels cold. 

ⴵ

This death is a lot more painful than the others. 

The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die. 

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

Time skips a lot faster now. 

You stand in 2006, four months after the death of Fushiguro Toji. It takes a second for Geto's memories to kick in. What you see makes you nearly cry in relief. 

Gojo and Geto made it in time. You can still remember the tears spilling down Riko's cheeks, the smile on her face when Geto asked her if she wanted to go back. They were safe. They were home, with each other. 

You did it. You actually managed to pull it off. 

But you can't celebrate, not yet. From what you can gather from Suguru's memories, Geto defects after four years. You've just held off the eventual. 

It's nearly the middle of December. The air feels a bit chillier. You stay on that bench where Suguru once occupied. He was finishing his lunch. Usually, he'd eat with Satoru, but Satoru wasn't on campus these days. 

Right, you weren't finished with your work, yet. There was still one other issue. Suguru went on missions alone these days. Swallowing curses, letting them fester and rot in his body. It's isolating and grueling work. You might have been able to help him with the absorption, but your aide won't be enough to prevent his eventual downfall. 

You'll have to deal with his natural isolation. To do that, Suguru will have to make friends with people who aren't Satoru. 

Suguru does have friends, but he's the closest to Satoru. Considering Satoru is getting busier each passing day, Suguru needs to broaden his horizons a bit. 

It's a good thing this school is filled with such colorful characters. 

Haibara and Nanami were sitting in the back of the school. From Geto's memories, their dynamic was interesting. Haibara was definitely more outgoing than the two, but Nanami seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. They looked out for each other, in that way. 

Ah, Shoko was there, too. You haven't seen her since your first day. Her hair's grown longer. It lightly brushes her shoulders now. The cigarette in her hand burns a cherry red. 

Your reaction is rooted in Suguru's instinct than anything on your part. You reach out, taking the cigarette and stomping on the embers. 

"You shouldn't smoke in front of kids." You tell her, hoping she didn't read too much into your action.

Shoko scoffs, but to your satisfaction, she doesn't take out another one. 

"We're just one year below you." Nanami retaliates, but he looks more at ease now that the cigarette's out. 

"Did you finish lunch already, Geto?" Haibara asks kindly, then he takes a closer look. "Greeny?" 

You suck air through your teeth, giving Haibara a scathing look. Instead of looking exasperated, Nanami looks confused. 

"What's Greeny?" Nanami asks, and Haibara weakly laughs. 

"It's-uh-my new nickname for the tree that's growing over there!" He wildly points to something just behind you. "'Cuz it's so...green!"

"Of course." You note the hint of affection laced within his tone. 

"When'd you get back?" Haibara recovers with eagerness. 

"Recently." You grin. "Nice to see you again." 

"You saw him this morning," Nanami interjects, and you shrug. When he frowns, you know you pulled off a perfect Suguru impression. 

Suguru melds into the conversation perfectly. Haibara says something funny, Shoko and Suguru agree, Nanami disagrees. It's a lovely little cycle that ends when Nanami grumbles and picks himself up to go. Shoko starts to follow suit when you stop her. 

"Your hair's nice." You tell her. 

She hums, grabbing a strand to study it. You can see hints of dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. She looked livelier when you first met her. Curses have been popping up left and right since Fushiguro's death. Everyone is overworked, but Shoko looks like she's getting the brunt of it. She's one of the only people who can use RCT on others, and there aren't many healers on her level. All of the strongests share one thing in common it seems. 

"Pretty soon, it'll be longer than yours," Shoko replies. You smile in response. 

"Where are you going?" You ask. 

"Dorm," she replies, "I'm behind on paperwork." 

You had a feeling she always was. You gave a look of sympathy, but misery loves company. 

"I have some work too," You 'remember' the piles of papers lodged on Suguru's desk, "Maybe we can do it together later. The cafe right next to campus? It'll be my treat." 

She looks at Suguru. Her eyes are a pretty color. 

"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then." 

You feel your heart thump twice in your chest and decide that your work here is done. 

Haibara stares at Shoko's disappearing back. The forehead flick comes from both you and Suguru. 

"That hurt." Haibara whines. 

Good, you inwardly think. 

"Sorry." You tell him. He rubs his head, and you wonder if this is how kicking a puppy feels like. 

Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly. 

"You've been gone for a while." Haibara tilts his head. "What happened?" 

You can't exactly control your technique, it's more like it has a mind of its own, placing you exactly where you need to be placed. Instead of answering, you sigh, leaning against the wall. 

"Timeline gimmicks." You tell him tiredly. "It's hard to explain." He frowns, but he takes it as an answer.

"Do you know when Gojo's coming back?" You ask. "I think it's time for me to go back again." 

In previous time travels, you and Haibara tried to see if any physical contact would be enough to send you back. No matter how many times you two high-fived, shook hands, or even held hands. Nothing worked. Only Gojo Satoru could activate your technique. It must have something to do with the amount of cursed energy another person has. 

“He should be getting back later this evening.” Haibara muses. “But I’ll be happy to keep you company!”

It's nice to hear him chatter. If you'd let him, he'd go one and one. But you like hearing him talk about his sister. Apparently, she’s also a sorcerer, and his affection for her makes you smile.

"You remind me a lot of her, actually." He tells you. "Even though, y'know, you're a man." It's enough to get a laugh out of you. 

“Do you have anyone in your family who can see curses?” Haibaracasks.

“No,” you answer honestly, “at least, not that I can tell. My dad never spoke of curses or strange powers when I was growing up.”

You think he would have said something; after all, you two were too close to have secrets from each other. Your father was a single man, who took to raising you himself after your mother passed away. He often said you had her laugh.

“Maybe you’re one of a kind,” Haibara suggests.

You agree with him.

Gojo finds you before you can find him. He comes up to you with a grin and a wave.

“Hey, long time.”

His sunglasses are tilted down. You can see his eyes. They’ve lost the mania he had in his fight with Fushiguro. You’re relieved at that. You still can’t shake off that strange thing he said to you.

Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.

“You wanna leave so soon? You just got here.”

“I’ve been here for hours,” you tell him, “also, you aren’t very concerned that someone is using your best friend’s body as a puppet.”

“He’s been through worse,” Satoru tells you off with a wave. Some friend.

“Let’s go to the arcade,” he suggests.

“Do that with Suguru.” You tell him. “I’m not hanging out with a high schooler.”

“Right right, my bad. I keep forgetting you’re an old man, Greeny.”

“22 is not old,” you say with exasperation, “didn’t your birthday just pass? You’re just five years away. I’ll see your attitude change, then.”

He grows quiet. You feel like you messed up somewhere.

“How did you know about my birthday?”

Fuck, you keep forgetting about keeping Suguru’s memories a secret. It takes everything within you to just relax.

“Haibara told me,” you say, “blabbermouth. You know him.”

“Oh.” Gojo replies. “Huh.”

You shuffle your feet. Distantly, you wonder what shoe size Suguru wears.

“How did your mission go?”

“Horrible,” he’s instantly back to his usual self, whiny and complaint, “and the curse was so ugly too. It was oozing goo everywhere.”

You frown. “Sounds gross. But you won, right?”

He doesn’t even answer. You secretly admire his sheer confidence. You certainly weren’t that when you were at his age.

“How’s Amanai and Miss Kuroi?” You ask.

“Safe.” He tells you. “The higher-ups weren’t really happy with us after that; pretty sure all these sudden missions are punishments.” He frowns. “But they’re fine. Miss Kuroi officially adopted her, so she’s a Kuroi now, too.”

You smiled. You already knew all that, but it’s nice to hear it.

“You saved them,” he says.

You laugh, “I didn’t do a thing.” You tell him. “You and Suguru did all the heavy lifting. I just caused some property damage.”

“You did.” He replies. “I don’t know how, but things always manage to work out whenever you’re around.”

You don’t like how he phrases that, but you don’t react.

“You think so? Maybe I’m lucky.” It’s supposed to be a joke of some kind. Neither of you laugh.

“You really don’t know us in the future?” He asks.

Maybe you should’ve asked Shoko if you could have a cigarette.

“I really didn't,” you say, “Honest, I—I have no idea what’s happening. I’m just as lost as you. Hopefully, I can figure out how to control my technique, and you won’t have to see me again.”

You never stopped feeling guilty for doing this to Suguru. Controlling him. Forcing him to laugh with his friends, make decisions based on your feelings rather than his. But you’re so close. You promise yourself that once you fix everything, you’ll never cause someone this much pain again. No matter how many times they kill you.

Satoru’s fists tighten. He looks even more upset at your response.

“That’s not what I—” He cuts himself off. You wait. Satoru says nothing more.

“You’re annoying.” He tells you in the end. It’s clean and cut, but it sounds like him. More confident, less wavery. “And stupid too.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Thank you. Am I done entertaining you now? Can I go?” He grumbles, holding up his hand.

“Yeah, sure, Greeny.”

ⴵ

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

Something’s wrong.

You can feel it. Something’s wrong.

You look through Geto’s memories. There’s nothing. Everything’s going as it should be. Everything looks perfect. Then, why do you feel so wrong?

Currently, Suguru was finishing excorcising a curse. You absorb it, swallowing down the remnant like it’s a pile of rusted nails but even the disgusting taste isn’t enough to wash away the feeling of dread.

The walls of the hospital was empty. The auxillary managers had already cleared everyone out by the time Suguru had walked in. Maybe it was the silence that added to your stress?

You walk out. Nothing changes. One of the managers comes up to you with a clipboard.

“The curse was exorcised.” Suguru tells them. “It wasn’t first grade, it was special grade. It was still disposed of.”

He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

“The wrong information again.” He hisses to himself. “If we keep doing this, someone will die. We need more people, we’re way too stretched out.”

Those words are familiar. Hold on.

“Wait, what day is it?” You ask the frazzled-looking manager.

Offhandedly, he responds. He says the date so casually, and yet his mere words feel like a bear trap, tightening on your leg.

No. You should have had more time. Why weren’t you given more time?

Nanami and Haibara have probably already been dispatched. You go through Suguru’s phone, finding Haibara’s contact. It doesn’t go through. Nanami doesn’t pick up either.

You won’t make it in time. Even using Suguru’s curses, you won’t be able to reach them until it’s too late. Suguru’s memory of that day is muddled and dark, but Haibara’s dead corpse laying on the examination table. The pieces of him that Nanami could bring back.

You wouldn’t be fast enough.

He picks up on the second ring.

“...What’s up?”

“It’s Haibara.” You spit the words out as fast as you can. “Satoru, you need to go and get him right now, he isn’t going to make it—”

“—Greeny?” The exhaustion in Gojo’s voice is gone. You can hear something rustle behind him.

“Satoru, listen to me.” You beg. “Haibara and Nanami were just dispatched on a mission, but Yu isn’t going to survive it. It wasn’t a second-grade curse; it was a first grade. Please, you have to go and save him before it kills him.”

It’s silent. It feels like hours have passed when you know it’s just three seconds.

“We’ll talk later, Greeny.” The line clicks.

You’ve lost the trust of the strongest.

ⴵ

The future has changed when you get to campus. Haibara’s status is still alive. Barely. But he’s still there. Shoko’s currently taking care of him.

Nanami remains quiet the entire time since he returned with Haibara’s battered body. The only thing you can think of to offer comfort is to pat his shoulder. He barely even registers it. It’s more for you than for him. You’re self-soothing, taking care of something else, so you don’t have to recognize your own panic.

If Haibara dies, right here, on this day, everything can change. Everything can go back to the way it was in your original timeline. Haibara, with his sunshine, smiles, and bright eyes. His death is so important, and you can’t even think of him right now.

Gojo Satoru knows you’ve been deceiving him.

This is bad. So very bad. If he starts to suspect that you know more than you let on, he might deem you enough of a threat to kill, regardless of whether or not you’re in Suguru’s body. It’s not like that hasn’t stopped him before.

Gojo Satoru is selfless. He’s selfless enough to kill his best friend, if he thinks it will save everyone.

But if Gojo kills Geto here and now, would that really be bad?

You’d lose your path to the past, but the threat to your life would be over. Even if you did die in Suguru’s body, at least the people of Tokyo will be spared the Death Parade. You’ll still get what you want. And it will be much easier than your current plan.

Nanami shuffles behind you and you instantly snap out of it. That wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been you. That same lack of apathy when Fushiguro died in front of you.

It seems like dying over and over again caused you to lose bits of your humanity.

Shoko comes out. Nanami stands up, a tall ball of nervous energy. Shoko removes her mask. Her dark circles have grown even more prominent. She’s only 17.

“He’s still alive.” Nanami sags. “But he isn’t responsive. I’ve done all that I can.”

She looks at Nanami, and then she can’t anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Nanami rasps, the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, “don’t apologize. It was my fault. I should’ve taken better care of him.”

You swallow. It wasn’t his fault, you wish you could tell him that it was yours.

You wonder what Haibara’s younger sister looked like. A spitting image of him, perhaps. Shorter. Darker hair, bigger eyes. Their smiles would look identical. What would she look like when she’s told her brother died doing the profession he forbade her from doing?

You can’t do that to her. You can’t be the reason she loses her brother the second time.

You’re not sure if a God is even out there. How could there be? What kind of entity would do something like this to you? Still, you sit on that bench, right outside the room where Haibara’s body lay, and you pray for a God.

Gojo’s footsteps stop right in front of you.

It’s hard to get the words out. For a minute, he just stands there.

“Did you exorcise it?” You finally ask.

“Yeah.”

You lift your head up to look at him. Even in his school uniform, he’s regal to look at. Like a warrior of the sun, blessed by the moon, sent to vanquish beasts and monsters.

Now, his blood-soaked sword is pointed at you.

Make it quick. You can only think. Just make it quick.

“Not here.” You say.

Nanami was still shaking. Shoko was right beside him. So you stand, you drag yourself away from Haibara’s fading presence, and Gojo follows behind.

It shouldn’t be this pretty outside. The sun is bright, and the sky is clear. There should be rain. Enough rain to drown the Earth.

“I figured out your technique a while ago, y’know.” You don’t look at him. You can’t. “Dying. Death activates your technique. Each time you die, you’re sent back 12 years in the past.”

You grip the fabric of your uniform until your knuckles turn white. Satoru’s cruel enough to continue.

“But I never got why your soul kept possessing Suguru’s body. It always felt kinda’ random. Unless he was the one who was killing you. Over and over again.”

“Gojo. Stop.” You beg.

“That’s how your CT works. Every time you’re murdered, you go back in time so you can kill them when they’re at their most emotionally vulnerable moment. It’s a pretty powerful technique, all things considered. I might not even stand a chance against it. Assisted suicide, never expected that from you of all people.

But you never do. Each time Suguru kills you, you just come back and try to save him and everyone else your hands can reach. I can’t get why you did that.”

He steps in front of you so you can see him. The God that he is.

“Let’s cut the shit, Greeny. Tell me what future is so bad you’re willing to die over and over again to prevent it.”

The worst outcome you could have ever thought of was standing right in front of you.

Satoru was demanding to know his future.

And...you couldn’t.

You’re taking in a shaky breath. It’s not enough oxygen. The sky was close to crumbling, and you still couldn’t breathe.

“There’s nothing to know.” You try. “There’s nothing, I’m fixing it—”

“—by Suguru killing you, or is this considering killing yourself, now?”

“You don’t understand.” Your voice is cracking, so high-pitched that even Suguru’s vocal cords can’t keep up. “You don’t get it. You can’t.”

“Then help me understand.” His voice is as ragged as yours, he steps closer, you step back. “Tell me why my friend would do something like this to someone.”

It clicks right then. Satoru’s anger isn’t directed at you.

No, it’s directed at Suguru.

It’s even worse than you thought.

“He—he was better than me. He was supposed to be the best out of all of us. I wanna deny it all that I can but—but I can see the proof right here in front of me. And—And I don’t—” His voice breaks too much to continue. 

You’re breaking, too. How many times have you been doing this, over and over again? All alone, with no one to support you. To comfort you.

The words are right there, threatening to bubble out. It’d be so easy to tell Satoru everything.

And maybe you would’ve, but then you looked at him.

Despite how disingenuous Satoru acted, you knew he was kind. The kindest person you’ve ever met. He’d sit there and listen, and he’d break every bone in his body to help. That’s just how he was.

Satoru was selfless, he was selfless enough to kill his best friend here and now if it meant he’d save the millions in Tokyo.

You can’t put another burden on the strongest.

You can’t do that to a kid.

“It—it isn’t him.” You manage to spit out. “He isn’t doing it on purpose. It’s not his fault.

It’s the curses. They were too much for him; they overtook his body. Suguru couldn’t control them anymore.”

He says nothing. It’s like you’ve put a spell on Gojo somehow, freezing him in place. Satoru can’t do anything but stare at the talking puppet that’s his best friend.

“He lost so many people.” You continue. “Riko, Miss Kuroi, Haibara. He couldn’t take it. It was too much. His body succumbed to the curses, and they took over Shinjuku. That’s how I keep...”

It’s okay to lie like this, you justify to yourself. Because the Suguru, you know—the one with fake smiles, beady eyes, and a broken expression—isn’t the one that Satoru knows. They’re two completely different people. Years—timelines—apart from each other. They aren’t the same.

Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.

You’d get on your knees if you know that would make a difference. You’d plead and beg and cry if it would get Satoru to drop it. In the end, you can only stare at him.

“All I’m asking is that you trust me.” You whisper. “Believe that I’m making this right. Please, Satoru?”

His eyes. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s gone quiet and dull. The same look he had when he fully awakened his technique. The day he became God.

But he’s not a God. God’s don’t cry.

He leans ever so closely until his head rests on your shoulder. His body shakes.

“You’ll save him, right?” He asks. Gone, is his aura of confidence and resilience. He’s nothing more than a shell. If you feel something stain Suguru’s uniform, you say nothing about it.

You smile anyway.

“I will.” You tell the truth. “I will save him.”

You think of something morbidly funny.

“I’ll die trying.”

His shoulders shake with quiet, genuine laughter, the kind that’s wet and sticks to the top of your mouth.

“That’s fucked up, Greeny.” He whispers.

You hum, reaching up to pat him on the back. It takes another minute before he gathers himself up. His eyes are shiny. Satoru blinks it away.

“Haibara will be okay.” He says with such conviction. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll take care of Suguru, too.”

He doesn’t get it, not yet. He doesn’t understand that Shoko and Satoru and Haibara and Nanami need him. He’ll get it soon, though. You managed to put Suguru on the right path.

For now, it’s all you can do. 

“I know you will.” 

He scoffs, right then. 

“You’re really annoying, you know that? Next time, don’t piss me off like that. Just tell it to me straight.” 

Rely on me. Lean on me.

“I’m sorry,” you say and you truly are, “I won’t leave you in the dark from now on. I guess I just forgot that I had a friend in 2006.” 

His eyes get a little brighter. “It’s actually 2007—” 

“Shut up.” He laughs and it sounds like him again. 

You reach out your hand and his grin fades, the tiniest bit. He mirrors you, regardless. 

This time, you hesitate.

“You should learn how to be selfish every once in a while.” You tell him. “I won’t fault you if you’re selfish. I don’t think anyone will.

He doesn’t answer that, but his touch is finally warm.

ⴵ

It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.

You forgive Suguru. 

ⴵ

It’s today. 

You can feel it. You don’t even have to look at the date to know.

The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.

Suguru’s already dressed. You’re currently standing in front of a shotty mirror, watching your reflection.

He looks tired. His smile’s a bit muted. You notice a scar you hadn’t seen before. An unregistered special grade curse, Suguru’s memory gives.

He’s different from when you saw him a year ago, but there’s still a spark in his eye. You cling to that hope, as hard as you can.

You step out of the room. It isn’t Suguru’s. He’d rented accommodations with an older woman and her son for the mission. Their place smelled like home. It made your stomach turn.

She smiles when she sees you coming down stairs. She looks kind; she has the eyes of a mother. You’ll never understand how a person who raised children could do something like this to another.

“Mr. Geto.” She chirps. “I’m so glad you’re awake! Would you like anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine.” Better get this done sooner than later. “I should be heading back now, anyways.”

Suguru had already absorbed the curse tormenting the village last night. You can feel the sticky aftertaste in your mouth. He should have left the village yesterday, but the people were insistent he stayed one last day as thanks, feeding him all they could.

Now, it’s obvious that it was a way to butter him up for today.

Her smile grows a bit nervous. She shuffles her feet a bit.

“If it isn't too much.” She starts. “The head of our village asked if you could look at something.” Her eyes darken into disgust.

You fight to keep your smile.

“Of course. Please, lead the way.”

It’s worse than you ever could have imagined.

You’ve seen this play out so many times in Suguru’s memories. He reminisces about this moment a lot. Because of that, you knew this scene too, like the back of your hand.

And yet, seeing two children huddled together on the floor. Nothing could prepare you for that.

The village head is saying something. The woman who Suguru roomed with is yelling at the scared kids, but you can’t hear any of that.

Their clothes were dirty and ripped. Their cheeks were hollow, and they looked like they hadn’t eaten for days. Himiko’s eye looks swollen.

The twins.

The first time you saw them, they stepped aside and let Geto kill you. There’s something oddly poetic about you being on the other side.

They tremble as they continue to look at you, flinch whenever that woman raises her voice. They must think Suguru’s here to kill them.

They’re too young to think like that. They’re too young to see the horrors of this world so soon.

It’s a mistake to look towards the end of their cell. Dirty water and dog food.

How could a human do this to them? How could a mother do this to them?

You feel red. It coarses through your blood, your veins, your soul. It feels like there’s lava right underneath your skin. Shuddering, tittering anger.

There’s more than enough fire to burn down an entire village.

‘Suguru,’ you think to your companion, your tormentor, ‘I think I’m starting to get it now.’

You reach for the bars of the cell. The twins shrink away.

“Ah! Mr. Geto, you musn’t get too close to them—”

“I’ll take them.”

“What?” The head of the village asks.

“The children.” You straighten yourself up. “I’ll take them off your hands.”

It’s pointless to do anything to these people. They’re delusional enough to think that they’re in the right. By torturing these children, they’re protecting their own. It’s fear. That’s all it ever was. Even without a curse, it’ll fester on and on until this village is nothing but abandoned homes. There’s no point to punish these people any further.

If you look at the adults a bit too long, you’re afraid of what you’d do, even without Suguru’s interference. Instead, you focus on Himiko and Nanako, looking into their wary gazes. Their hands are so tiny. You could protect them with your own.

When you got out of this backward village, you’d find them something to eat.

ⴵ

You go to Shoko first.

She looks surprised to see the twins. You can’t imagine why. Still, her voice is calm when she speaks to them, setting both of them up in the clinic room. Since you got them into the car, Nanako and Himiko seemed to calm down. Himiko even told you the name of her doll.

A little while later, Yaga comes for a visit. He’s the principal now. Usually, his voice is filled with gruff, but he’s oddly gentle when he speaks to them. Nanako cracks a shy smile.

You can’t escape the ‘we’ll talk later’ look he gives you. Inwardly, you sympathize with Suguru. But a harsh lecture is better than being branded a murderer.

He hasn’t come by, yet. With the twins aided for, you decide to go find him yourself.

Walking through campus feels a little nostalgic. The grounds of the infamous jujutsu technical college are a bright green. It’s summer again. You’ve met so many colorful characters since your time here. You’ve only seen snippets, mere seconds of their lives, and yet it feels like an entire lifetime.

He’s sitting on a bench when you finally see him, nursing a drink. He doesn’t acknowledge you. You have to roll your eyes at his childish behavior, plopping down beside him.

“Hey.” You say first.

“Heard you adopted two kids,” Satoru says, “Never thought Suguru would be a teen mom, but here we are.”

You laugh, light and breathless. The sky is so pretty today.

“I don’t think he’d have it any other way, personally.” You respond.

He reminisces on your words.

“This happened before too?” He asked.

It did. It was a lot less of a happy ending, however.

“Yeah,” you say regardless, “he took good care of them last time. He’ll do the same in this timeline too. I’m sure of it.”

And this time, he’d have help. Shoko, Satoru, his teachers. They’d all be there for him. Suguru’s memories haven’t changed yet, but you know the future you step into will be a different one.

“In any case, I’m glad I got to see jujutsu tech one last time. It’s a beautiful campus.”

“You act like you’re leaving,” Satoru says, uncaring. “You’ll just come back again next month. Or next year.”

You play with your fingers.

“I...won’t be doing that from now on.”

He pauses. Then, he looks at you.

“What?”

You can’t gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t look happy. You find this a bit hard to swallow.

“I fixed the future.” You smile at him. “I finally did it. Suguru won’t break. Himiko and Nanako won’t lose their father. You won’t lose a friend, anymore. There’s no reason for me to keep coming back. You’re all free.”

You phrased the last part as a joke, but Satoru isn’t laughing.

“Wait, you’re leaving? You’re...leaving leaving.”

You nod. “I can’t believe it either.” You still can’t believe you accomplished everything you set out to do. A task that seemed so impossible, now you’re standing on the other side of it.

It wasn’t truly over. Not really, but you were able to get Suguru through the worst of it. Now, you were sure Satoru and Shoko would take up your mantel, pushing Suguru through the finish line. Just like he’ll do to them.

Satoru’s quiet.

“You seem happy.” He notes.

“Well, I did just save everyone, I think I deserve to feel a little good about myself.”

For a moment, you want to ask if it’ll be okay to visit everyone in the future. To see how Shoko and Suguru and Satoru are doing as adults. You stop yourself. Of course, they wouldn’t want to see you. You needed to stop being so greedy.

This, was more than enough.

“Will you at least tell me your name?” Satoru asks.

“You know I can’t do that.” You tell him with a smile.

“Right right.” He laughs, it sounds hollow. “Time travel, bullshit. Makes sense.”

“I’ll miss you.” You tell him.

He straightens himself up.

“I’ll miss you too, old man.” He responds. “You were a lotta’ fun to mess with.”

For once, you aren’t offended by the old man’, comment. If anything, it feels somber.

“Can I ask for some advice?” He suddenly asks. “Y’know what they say, ask the old and wise or whatever.” Okay, now he was starting to push it.

“What is it?”

It’s his turn to shuffle with his fingers.

“What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it?”

You glance at him. He looks earnest. Did something like that even exist for Satoru?

“Something I can’t catch up to?” You ponder out loud. “I guess I’d have to make a big enough ruckus to where it has no choice but to look back.”

He frowns. “That makes no sense. You’re growing senile.”

You laugh. You’ll miss this brat.

You wish you could stay more. You wish you could ask about Haibara, and Shoko, and Nanami, but the clock is ticking.

Suguru’s getting impatient.

“Bye, Satoru.” You reach out your hand.

He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.

“Yeah, Greeny.”

Within a blink, you’re back again in the middle of Shinjuku. December 24th, 7:06 pm.

It’s the same as always. People bustle around you. Children’s laughter. Everything always repeats itself, but you don’t think you can ever get sick of it. You’ll savor this peace for as long as you can.

You reach into your pocket, flicking out a lighter and the first cigarette of the box. You don’t know why you always chose this one. Despite outmaneuvering time itself, perhaps it’s within human nature to follow what’s written stone.

You’ve relived this hour so many times that you can list everything that happens. Down to the exact minute. 7:08- a little girl wearing a red dress walks by. 7:09- a lady with short hair catches your eyes and smiles. 7:14-an old man and woman bicker with each other as they pass you by. 7:21- A little dog sniffs the bench you sit on. 7:34- Two schoolchildren run past you, babbling. 7:45- five construction workers grumble out their grievances. 7:58- a businessman talks loudly on the phone.

You wait. You sit on a bench and wait until 8:06.

Five seconds after 8:06. Twenty seconds after 8:06.

The clock clicks to 8:07.

You were expecting to feel something else. Celebration. Elation. You half-expected to cause a scene and jump for joy right there in the streets of Shinjuku.

None of that comes. There’s just a feeling of relief. A weight presses you down, and you slump in your seat.

It was over.

It was finally over.

How long do you stay like that? Hours? Days? When you feel like you can finally breathe again, it’s only 8:12. Time travel warped your sense of time.

You stand up, stretch, feel your bones crack and pop. In the second timeline, you wanted to get a drink to drown your misery of nearly getting killed by a curse and being alone on December 24th. It felt like a lifetime ago when being single was the worst of your problems.

Honestly, you’d stay celibate for the rest of your life if it meant you wouldn’t have to go through that ever again.

Tomorrow, you’ll decompress and devolve into hysteria over what happened.

Next week, you’ll check yourself into therapy.

Today, you decide to go home and sleep for a couple hundred years.

You must look like a zombie with the way you wobble down the street. Physically, your body is perfectly fine. You’ve suffered no bruises or cuts. Even the numerous times you’ve been killed leaves nothing on your skin.

Mentally, you’re in shambles. The indomitable human spirit within you is snuffed out.

The stairs to your flat is your last enemy that you must vanquish before you can reunite with your adoring bed. You cling onto the railing with dazed eyes. You don’t see the curse until you’re right before it.

Distantly, you wonder how often you’ve passed a curse and didn’t even realize it. It’s almost instinct to reach out with your hand, intent on absorbing it.

Nothing happens. You remember you aren’t Suguru anymore.

It’s a grotesque-looking thing. No eyes, too many hands, a gaping mouth. It turns and looks at you.

Strange. Its’ smile mirrors the one in the abandoned house.

Adrenaline. You feel it coarse through your veins, meld into your bones, explode in your skin. You’re stumbling back, nearly tripping down the steps in your haste to get away.

It screeches. Loud and clear and angry and you can almost feel its teeth chomp on your leg, ripping your muscles and skin to mere tatters.

You’ve died before. You’ve been skinned alive before. You’ve been eaten before. Yet, it all amounts to nothing compared to the fear you feel at the thought of the curse catching you.

It can’t have been nothing more than a third grade. If you were taller, larger, special-grade, you could have killed it immediately. But you weren’t, not anymore, you were at the same level as a plant. Useless. Helpless.

A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.

The streets were quiet. You supposed that meant there’d be fewer casualties. But it didn’t make you feel any better. And even if there were people around, no one would have been able to help you.

Your brain isn’t working as clearly. Fear is the only thing that guides you. You’re reduced to a rat scampering through a maze. Sooner or later, that rodent reaches a dead end.

The alleyway was blocked off. You felt the rough brick wall scrape your hands and even the feeling of your raw skin couldn’t assuage your heart pumping in your throat. When you whirled your head back, it was right there, and you knew you were dead.

Again.

It might kill you, if it’s feeling generous. It might cut your legs off and watch you bleed, if its feeling kind. It might eat you, if it’s a decent curse.

It shouldn’t be happening. You fixed it. You were supposed to have fixed everything. But clearly you didn't. There must have been some piece of the puzzle that you forgot. You need to go back. You need to fix things, but why do you need to why can't he just leave you alone—

You don’t see what happens. One moment, the curse is there. The next it isn’t.

“Those things are so annoying.” The newcomer complains.

No, not new. You know him.

You blink. He grins. It’s kind. A toothy smile that warms.

“You alright?” He asks in sympathy. “Curses are pretty scary, aren’t they? Are you hurt?”

It’s him. You weren’t in 2006. You were in the present, here and now, and he was here with you.

He actually made it.

“Ma’am?” He asks.

It wasn’t intentional. You just blurted it out, the promise you made to him. It was a decade for him. Mere hours for you.

“Um, broccoli head...?” And then you instantly regret it.

Haibara Yu takes a minute, eyes squinting like you just grew a new head.

Then, he gasps.

“Greeny?”

ⴵ

A few minutes later, you’re seated at a restaurant. Haibara has not shut up.

“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again ‘cuz Gojo said you weren’t gonna be around anymore, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

“—Haibara.” You interrupt. “Please, slow down.”

He stops himself, right when the server comes with drinks. He shoots the waiter a smile, and then he’s back on you.

“Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I—I got a little excited. And nervous. It’s just...well, I didn’t expect you to be a girl.”

That might have been your fault. Both Haibara and Gojo kept referring to you as a man, so you decided to roll with it. Earlier, you would have justified it by insisting the less they know about you, the better. Now, you just think you were being petty.

“So, how you’ve been? A whole decade...” You murmur to yourself.

“Fine! But what about you?” Haibara asks, concern etched into his eyes. “Where’d you go?”

Wow, he was actually worried for you. Despite being in Suguru’s body, you didn’t really feel like part of the group Shoko, Gojo, Nanami, and Haibara were part of. You felt like an outsider, being somewhere you didn’t belong. It's because you were an outsider. Nevertheless, it’s nice to know one person missed you.

“This might be a little hard to believe, but I just came back to 2017 two hours ago.”

Haibara gapes.

“Wait, so to you, that whole thing happened, today?” You nod. He leans back in his chair.

“Holy fuck.” You laugh at his awe.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way.” You change the topic. “From the curse.”

He waves it off. “I was just paying my debt. From what you did for me all those years ago.”

Ah, Gojo must have told him. Oddly enough, Haibara doesn't seem all that perturbed that he shouldn’t exist currently. At the same time, it feels just like Haibara.

He’s different from when he was younger. Taller. The baby fat is gone. His face is more built, just like the rest of his body. His eyes are less round, but they haven’t lost the spark. A few scars here and there, but he’s all in one piece.

You weren’t able to see what he looked like as an adult from Suguru’s memories, he’d never grown up. But now, you can see it for yourself. You can see the active change you made in his life, to his life.

“Haibara—”

“Yu—” He says seriously. “My friends call me Yu.”

A smile twitches on your lips.

“Tell me about everyone.” You scoot your chair closer. “You, Suguru. How is everyone doing?”

He perks up at that, clearly delighted to be talking.

“Great! Everyone’s doing great! You should totally come visit the school, sometime. They’d love to see you. Uh, even if they don’t technically know you, but I’m sure they’ll love to meet you!” He rambles, and it’s nice to know he hasn’t changed from his younger self.

“Let’s see, Kento’s teaching the first years. I teach the second years—”

“—You’re a teacher?”

He nods. “We all are! Except for Shoko, but she has her own thing going on. Anyway, Mimiko and Nanako have become second-grade semi-sorcerors. Isn’t that incredible? I’m just a first grade semi-sorceror, and at their young ages too! But Suguru wasn’t surprised, he kept saying his girls were prodigies. Oh! You probably want to know about Suguru too, right?”

You nod. Even if you hadn’t done anything, you don’t think that would have stopped his enthusiasm.

“He’s a teacher too! At least, for right now. Yaga’s been wanting to retire, and there have been talks of Suguru becoming the next principal. Principal Geto has a ring to it, right? Oh, and Shoko is currently planning the wedding. You’ll definitely be invited, of course! She said I could bring a plus-one. Oh, and—”

It goes on like that for hours, you think. Not that you mind. You listen to Yu babble on and on about his friends, his students. He talks about Nanami’s recent baking addiction, Shoko’s new office cat, Suguru’s favorite tea pot. It’s a never-ending surge of information.

Eventually, you catch on to the fact that he’s deliberately leaving someone out.

"Yu?" You interrupt him while he's talking about the prank the fourth year pulled on Nanami. "What about Satoru? What's he up to?" 

Maybe you were overthinking things. Haibara likes to talk; perhaps he forgot to exclude someone else's story in his rants. But then, he grimaces. For the first time in this entire conversation, Haibara is reluctant to talk. 

"Satoru is..." He winces, and your hands turn into fists. 

No. No. You were supposed to save everyone. Why hadn't you saved everyone? 

A warm hand grips your own. You'd been shaking. 

Yu gives a soft smile, and you remember he's no longer younger than you. 

"He's not dead." He assures you, but his smile fades. He straightens himself up, and his hand pulls away. 

"Satoru defected from Jujutsu tech. We don't know where he is." 

What? You must have misheard him wrong. Satoru wouldn't do that. That's not like him. This is some sick joke.

But there's no teasing grin on Haibara. His face is grave. You hate it more than anything. 

"It happened when he was a fourth year. No one really knows what happened. Suguru refuses to say anything about it, but I think he's just as confused as the rest of us. It came outta nowhere." 

Yeah, it definitely came out of nowhere. It's so random. Why would Satoru do that? The last time you saw him, he was so happy. He was smiling; he teased you. What happened? It made no sense. 

"So, you haven't seen him for nine years?" You ask. "Not even a glimpse?" 

Yu shakes his head. "Nothing but his residuals. That's how we know he's still alive." 

Nothing computes in your brain. None of it made any sense. You saved Suguru. That was supposed to make everyone happy, including Satoru. Why would he turn around and do this? Defecting made no sense.

"We've actually been tasked to execute him. Since he’s been branded a curse user, all four of us. " Yu laughs with no humor. "Isn't that insane? I don't think any one of us could even fathom doing that, even if it were possible." 

It wasn't possible. Gojo was the strongest. Nothing could go toe to toe with him. Once he put his mind to something, no one could stop him.

But maybe you could. 

You're shutting that idea down immediately. You were done. You were done with dying and time-travel and strange powers. You wanted it all to be over. It'd be so easy to thank Haibara for the nice meal, to go home and sleep this entire day off. Satoru dug his own grave, he can go lay in it. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions. You wouldn’t. You can’t do that another time.

You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?

You hate that brat so much. 

You close your eyes. Take in a breath. Then, you open them. 

"Haibara?" You ask. "Did Gojo tell you how my technique worked?" 

He shakes his head. You grimace because convincing him might take a while.

"Okay, well, I'll need you to do a tiny favor for me."

ⴵ

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh, you're back already?" Satoru says casually, turning back to gaze at you. "I just left today. How did you convince Haibara to snap your neck? That guy cries after killing a mosquito.”

You’d caught him just as he was leaving campus. Yu’s body was less athletic than Suguru’s. Your breath was slightly ragged, pulled down by minor exhaustion.

It doesn’t weigh down your frustration for Gojo Satoru. The biggest pain in your ass you’ve ever met.

“Shut up.” You snap. “Just answer the question.”

“We haven’t seen each other for a year and that’s how you react?” Satoru ignores you. “That’s mean, Greeny. How ‘bout we discuss my treason over steak. Haibara can pay.”

“Satoru.” You beg, “Why are you doing this? What’s the point? Why is everyone happy with their life except for you?”

That seems to get him. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. You can see him work his jaw. He finally drops his act.

“You didn’t have to come back, y’know.” He murmurs quietly. “You could’ve just stayed in the future. Like you said, Greeny, everyone’s happy with their life. 4 outta’ five. That’s a passing grade.”

For once, you wish you could possess him. You wished you could open his brain and peer into his memories until he finally made sense.

“I could never leave you behind like that.” You say the truth just as quietly. “I’ll die a thousand more deaths than do that.”

He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.

“Yeah, I know. I know you, Greeny. Always gotta’ play hero.” He gives a bitter laugh. “That’s why I defected.”

You stare at him. He’s a fourth-year now, even taller than before. You aren’t equal to him anymore in this body, now you’re starting to think you never were.

“Satoru.” You start because what he’s saying can’t be the truth. Your heart broke and broke. “Did—did you leave—did you leave everyone for a decade just so I’d come back? Why would you do that to yourself?”

He doesn’t say anything. Then, he steps forward, just a bit.

“It’s your fault,” Satoru says like it’s instinct to blame you for his actions, “this was your idea.”

What’s he talking about? And then memories of the two of you sitting on that bench just outside of campus.

What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it? So that’s what he meant. You were an idiot.

“That’s not fair, Satoru,” you say regardless, “I—I never—I couldn’t expect you’d do this.”

“What choice did I fucking have, Greeny?” There’s rapid steps and he’s in front of you, desperate and wild. “You—you just left me here. You left me alone and I couldn’t even look for you because I know nothing about you. Your face, your eyes, your hair, not even your fucking name! How’s that fair?”

It’s true. It’s all true. As much as you tried to claim you tried to make everyone happy, you only focused on Suguru. And Suguru’s happiness enlisted space from the strongest. In a different timeline, things would be different between them. A button he never left behind. Words Satoru never said. That timeline held too much pain and suffering, so you scrubbed it from history. In this rendition, everything was changed. Suguru had Shoko. Yu had Kento. Who did Satoru have?

You saved Suguru in this timeline. But to save him, you neglected Satoru.

Satoru must have known. He must have known you intentionally distanced Suguru from him, but he allowed it anyway. Satoru’s selfless like that. Too giving. Too Godlike.

But he’s selfish too. Purposefully demeaning himself so he could get one more glimpse of you, uncaring if you went through hell for his sake. Too taking. Too human.

Once, you told him that if he was selfish, just once, you wouldn’t fault him. What a liar you are.

You forgive Satoru.

“I’m sorry.” Haibara’s voice is like your own. You step closer. His infinity lets you in. “I’m sorry Satoru. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

It’s hard to wrap him in a hug. The brat’s too big. He sinks into your touch like a tiger, filled with dangerous claws, retracted just for your sake. He shakes the tiniest bit; even now, he’s keeping himself as a pinnacle. If you hear a sniffle or two, you don’t comment on it.

It’s why your heart breaks to tell him the truth.

“I can’t give you my name.” You whisper in his ear. He pulls back. He doesn’t look at you.

“Yeah, I know. I know. time-travel bullshit—”

“For now.” You add. “I can’t do that for now.”

Three pairs of eyes look at you. You’re not hiding behind Haibara anymore. You’re not trying to.

“December 24th, 2017. 8:06. Tokyo Skytree.” You look at him. “Can you wait until then?”

For you, it’d only be an hour. For Satoru, it’d be a decade.

You expect him to reject it, to yell at you. You decide if he wants to be selfish; you’d let him.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll turn evil.” You laugh. His grin widens and he’s back again. “I’m serious. I’ll take over the world. I’ll throw the biggest temper tantrum ever.”

“You’re such a brat.” There’s no hostility in your tone. “I will. I promise.”

‘I’ll save you,’ You promise in your head because he’s too prideful to hear it.

“Is it still possible for you to go back?” You ask, the wariness present again. “The higher ups haven’t taken any action against you, right?”

He shakes his head.

“I think Yaga might yell at me, but other than that.” He shrugs. “They’ll decide it’s teen rebellion and sweep it under the rug.”

You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.

When you reach out a hand, Satoru mirrors you. He clasps your hand in his. For once, you wonder how they’ll feel on your own.

“See ya’ later, Greeny.”

A blink. Satoru’s gone. Your hand is empty, and you’re standing in the streets of Shinjuku once again.

ⴵ

December 24th, 2017. 8:06, at the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

Why did you decide on that date and time for all the places? You were so fucking stupid. You needed to stop being so poetic.

It’s already 7:12 when you’re desperately waving down a taxi. The driver looks disinterested when you blubber out the location. When he tells you it’ll cost extra because Sumida City isn’t part of his route, you’re more than happy to fork over the money.

It’s already 7:35 when you stumble through the interiors of Tokyo Skytree town. It’s crowded. Fuck, it’s December 24th, of course people would be out and about.

At 7:44, you finally reach the observational building. And then you hit upon a snag.

It’s closed.

Renovations, the sign reads, accompanied by an irritatingly cute drawing of a cat, please come visit us next week.

Would this excuse be enough to satisfy Satoru? You’re only human. Surely he’d understand if you couldn’t make it because the entire building was shut down.

Or wait. Was this Satoru’s doing?

You look up at the tower. Lights were still on and flickering. No crowds. No people. No prying eyes.

Let it be known that you’ve never trespassed before, until you met Gojo Satoru.

With a guilty conscious, you step over the line. You justify it by convincing yourself you were saving the world because you know Satoru wasn’t joking a decade ago.

The elevators still worked. Thank God. Yet another hint he’s paving the way for you. You made the location, but it feels like you’re a mouse stuck in a human-designed maze. Even though you set up the game, he’s still managed to rig it.

You land on the first deck at 7:52. At 7:56, you reach the second observational deck.

It’s empty. You’ve never seen the skytree so empty before. Not a single soul is here except for you. Your footsteps echo across the floor. Were you early?

Out the corner of your eye, there’s a post-it note stuck on the window. A hand-drawn arrow. Up ahead, there’s another one.

You follow the next, and then the next. All the time you don’t know how to feel about him doing all of this just for an encounter. Something bubbles in your stomach. You’re pushing it down.

You follow the post-its until there’s one placed right on top of a door.

Authorized personnel only. Why does this brat continue to test you?

But it’s already 8:03; you’re far too deep to complain.

A service elevator greets you. If you press the button, it’ll take you all the way up to the broadcast equipment, the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

It’s different from the past two elevator rides. The service elevator isn’t all that polished. The wheels squeak a little too dangerously at times. It’s slower, too.

That’s bad, because now you’re starting to think.

That familiar feeling boils within your stomach, again. You’re anxious. It’s strange to say, but meeting Satoru through Suguru, meeting Satoru through Yu, it felt like you had a protective shell around yourself. You were free from his judgement, only invoking curiosity.

If you show yourself to him, how would he react? What would he say? Would he get angry that you made him wait a decade for such a blunder? Even worse, what if he doesn’t get angry?

What if—what if he’s disappointed by you?

Cold feet. It freezes your toes. You want to go back. You want the elevator to go back down, you want to go home and hide away.

But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.

Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.

Instead of your soul being protected by a sorcerer's body, it’s protected by your own. You’d steel yourself for whatever comes next. You could melt after.

It’s windy up here. That’s the first thing you notice. Icy wind cuts at your face and your eyes squint so they don’t dry out so quickly. It’s colder, too; your jacket is nice protection, but nothing helps your vulnerable hands.

But the view. Oh, what a view.

The sea of twinkling lights shines from the city. The sun has set, leaving Tokyo to do nothing but shine. She’s gorgeous like she’s picked the stars from the sky, burying them within her own soul. You could stay there forever, if she let you.

It’s 8:09. Satoru was late.

Or maybe he just wasn’t planning to show up.

You lean away from the railing. It’s just like him to make huge gestures and at the last moment, ditch everything. The balloon in your lungs deflates ever so slightly.

And then, you can feel hands.

Around your shoulders, caging you in. Large and warm despite the icy air. You know these hands. They’re familiar, even a decade later. His chest presses up against your back. His face settles in the crook of your neck.

His laugh tickles your ear, and you aren’t so cold anymore.

“Caught ya, Greeny.”

(“Did something happen to you, back there in the house?”

"Hm?" Suguru asked.

They were wading through long grass and overgrown weeds. Satoru glances at his friend. Suguru looks fine. His cursed energy has gone back to normal. That's probably good.

"You were just acting weird," Satoru said, "I mean you fell on your ass in front of a curse. Embarrassing."

Suguru huffed, a red hue across his cheeks. "Shut up, don't remind me."

'So he remembered,' Satoru thinks, 'didn't expect that.'

They're almost to the car when Suguru speaks again.

"Actually, I did feel a little strange," he says, "I felt like I wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."

"Really?" Satoru shivers. "That sounds creepy."

So the entity within Suguru was a bad thing after all. He should try to get rid of it if it ever comes back. It might take a complex spell or something-

"Not really." Suguru said. "It's hard to explain, but it felt....nice."

"Nice?" Satoru echoes.

"Yeah."

And then it's quiet again.)

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

Rewound Infinitely

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Part one: Infinite Rewind

Synopsis: A decade later, Gojo has finally caught up with you. Weddings take a lot of planning.

Word Count: 8.6k

(Warnings: flashbacks to gore, not healthy trauma coping, thats all tho! pretty wholesome compared to last time)

Some things about him had changed within a decade, while others stayed the same. 

Even taller than you last saw him. His hair has been styled, no longer ivory chaos. You can't see a single blemish or mark despite the decade of fighting curses. He's as flawless as the first day you met him. No glasses; the entirety of his blue keeps you still.

You've seen this Satoru before: Suguru's memories, with glassy eyes, ruffled ivory hair, and an empty expression. Seeing such beauty yourself when you're standing right in front of him, it's breathtaking. 

Even the lights of Tokyo couldn't compare to him. 

You say nothing. You can't. Your mouth is dry and pointless. You're not even sure where to even begin. In front of a God, your insecurities pile up all over again. Is he disappointed by you? How could you explain everything that you put him through? Your mouth opens, you think you're about to speak: an apology, a plea, anything-

"—You're late!" 

His hands reach up to squish your cheeks together. It was so unexpected, you squeak. 

And Gojo Satoru is pouting. 

It's a wave. The ocean of anxiety, guilt, and fear crashes into the shore. You feel nothing but indignant rage at the brat who clearly hadn't matured one damn bit. 

"I'm not late!" You hiss back. "If anything, you're the one who's late. I was—"

You're cut off by his laugh, light and happy. 

He isn't offended by your outburst; he's overjoyed about it. His cheeks are dabbed with pink, and his lips are so wide that he's showing his teeth. Your anger wanes when he pulls you into his chest, arms circling around you. You can smell his cologne when he buries his face into your hair. 

"There you are. Finally." He melts into you like butter. "I missed you, Greeny." 

His voice is soft, quiet, and sincere. You can't do anything but hug him back, allowing him to sink.

"I missed you, too." You whisper.

He hums. Apart from the wind, it's quiet. He's clinging onto you as though he's afraid once he lets go, you'll disappear forever. His behavior is justified. You were constantly meddling with his life before whisking away. Just this once, you allow him to keep you within his reach, letting the cat catch the canary. 

"This is sweet 'n all. But we're actually getting late." He mutters. "Also, we gotta do something about your clothes." 

"Hm?" 

One moment, you're atop the Tokyo Skybridge; the next, you're standing in an upscale boutique. 

Satoru skips away from you. Meanwhile, you're frozen, brain scrambling to catch up with what happened. Teleport. He can teleport now.

"Mr. Gojo, sir." A voice calls. An older woman smiles at him. 

He gives her a casual wave before gesturing over to you. "Mind giving this one a dress? It's a black-tie event. We don't have a budget." 

The woman turns to you with a smile. "Of course, sir." 

What?

Dazed, you pliantly follow the woman into the back of the boutique. Her hold on you is gentle as she ushers you through the hall with one hand on either side of your shoulders. When you look back, Satoru is waving with a wide grin. The door shuts behind you. 

"Do you have any preferences?" 

You turn back to the woman. She's still smiling. You can't tell if it's genuine or customer service. Perhaps both. 

Did Satoru not like what you're wearing? When you look down, it makes sense. Your time on the tower wasn't kind to your hair, not to mention your clothes. This morning, you'd just thrown on the first thing you saw. 

This morning. That felt like centuries ago. 

She's still waiting. You give a trepid smile. 

"Anything," you say, "anything as long as it's cheap. I'm not exactly swimming in cash." 

She gives a confused look. "Oh, but Mr. Gojo is paying, isn't he?" 

Was he? You had no idea what was happening, much less what he had just said. She returns to her usual smile. 

"If you have nothing in mind, let's see here..." 

Some time later, your usual clothing was removed and replaced by something satin and long. It was a pretty dress that fell right to your feet. A set of women also flitted in and worked on your hair and face, putting everything back in your face so that you looked more human and less cryptid. 

"What do you think?" She asks, looking at you through that mirror. 

Pretty, you looked pretty. But when you looked closer, no amount of make-up could remove that look in your eyes. 

When you step back out, Satoru is waiting with a tapping foot. 

"Finally!" He exclaims, standing up. He doesn't acknowledge the dress, probably because he's seen himself in better. "Thanks, Hana. Okay, let's go." 

"Go?" You prod. "Go where? You—you still haven't told me what you're even doing—" 

It's no use. He grabs your hand, instantly warping you away from the boutique. 

You're outside. There's people everywhere. In the distance, you can see a crystal glass dome. The sun was still in the sky, which was strange because you remembered watching a sunset not too long ago, unless you weren't in Japan anymore. To prove it to yourself, you check your phone location. Yakima, Washington. What the fuck.

Was this some type of torture, him flitting you from continent to continent, all in a ploy to punish you for something? You give him a pleading look. 

"Just tell me what's going on—" 

"Nuh-uh." He grins. "It's a surprise! Besides, you'll figure it out soon enough. Now, I gotta' go. Stay here, be good, and find the panda!" 

And then he's gone.

You always knew he was insane, but this is ridiculous, even for him. To leave you in the middle of nowhere, that asshole.  

There is no one you recognize in the crowd, but they are all walking towards the dome, so you meekly follow. What did he say? Find the panda? It had to be a metaphor of some kind, or perhaps there was a panda statue you needed to wait under. 

And then you see a panda on two legs walking and talking with a group of teenagers.

Seriously, what else did you expect? 

Feeling like you've just aged five years, you approach the group. Including the animal, there's five. They all look like 14-16 years old. You feel like you're in high school all over again when they glance over at you. The girl looks particularly unimpressed. 

"Hi." You look at the panda. Maybe it's a really good costume because no one else looks shocked. "Satoru said I should find you...?" 

One of them seems to get the code. The one with black hair and puppy eyes perks up. 

"Ah! Are you 'Greeny'?" Did he tell everyone about that nickname? Didn't you tell him it was supposed to be a secret? Though, it doesn't really matter anymore. 

"It's not my actual name." You say before introducing yourself. 

He gives a nod. "Okkutso Yuta." He bows. What a polite kid. "This is my friend, Inumaki Toge." 

The kid with half his face under his scarf gives a wave. You smile. 

"Just Maki." The girl steps in before she gives you a once-over. "I like your dress." 

"Oh, thank you!" You say happily, "I love yours as well!" 

She looks away, but you have a feeling she has a hard time taking compliments. 

"I'm Panda." The panda fucking says, and no, it isn't a costume, but you're too tired to ask at this point. "Nice to finally meet you." 

When the final kid says nothing, Panda reaches over and wraps a furry hand around his shoulder. 

"And this is Fushiguro Megumi! He's shy." Panda says cheerily. The boy flusters under his weight. 

"Get off." Fushiguro gripes. 

"Don't mind him." Maki rolls her eyes. "He's just throwing a tantrum because his sister couldn't make it, and he's gonna have to socialize with people instead of hiding behind her." 

Fushiguro glares, but he doesn't respond to that. He just gives you a nod, and you decide these are good kids. At the very least, they're all way better than that brat Satoru. 

"So, why are we waiting out here?" You ask, peering around. 

"The doors haven't opened, yet," Okkutso kindly relays, "we're just waiting out here until everything is set up." 

"If they're taking this long, then they should at least ask for help." Maki crosses her arms. "We've been waiting out here for at least thirty minutes." 

"At least there's food." Panda tries to assuage. 

"Salmon," says Inumaki. 

"They're serving salmon out here?" You give him an incredulous look and he waves his arms around. 

"Bonito flakes." Inumaki says. Okkutso tries to come to his rescue. 

"Inumaki can't speak anything but food items because of his curse-" Maki quickly yanks him down by his collar frantically. Fushiguro is whispering something in his ear. You watch them go back and forth before it clicks. 

"Does it have something to do with his technique?" You ask, curiously. 

They stop squabbling. 

"Oh, our bad. Sorry 'bout that." Panda gives a sheepish grin. "We didn't think you'd know about jujutsu sorcery 'cause...well. Your cursed energy is really low." 

"Super low." Maki agrees. 

"Salmon." 

"Even lower than Maki's." That earns Panda a punch from her. 

"Thank you," you dryly say, before you turn back to the building. 

"What's going on in that place anyway?" 

They all give you an odd look before they look at each other. Did you say something wrong?

"Did Gojo-sensei not tell you anything?" Okkotsu asks. 

You allow yourself to leak some bitterness. "Satoru just dropped me on the sidewalk before teleporting away. He never tells me anything.

"That sounds like him." Panda nods. 

"Idiot," Maki says.

"Such an idiot," Fushiguro says, and now you feel bad for Satoru.

"Our sensei's getting married today." Okkutso supplies. He points at the dome. 

You don't get why you didn't realize it sooner. You knew these kids, at least Okkutso, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. They all showed up on the very last day Geto Suguru died. Okkutso, in particular, had fought and defeated Suguru. 

These were Gojo Satoru's students. 

You think back to the last time you saw Satoru. He didn't look like a groom, but he's an eccentric guy. You wondered what kind of person would put up with him for the rest of their lives. You pitied them. 

"Oh." You frown. "His wedding? I—I would have at least brought a gift." 

"I don't think he'd mind," Panda said, "besides, you didn't even know!" 

You still felt a bit guilty. 

"We didn't bring anything either," Fushiguro states, and it helps just a tiny bit. 

"When the ceremony begins, you can sit with us," Okkutso tells you, "we're supposed to keep an eye on you, anyway." 

"You're not talking to a dog." Maki grunts. 

"Oh no I—I didn't mean to be offensive!" Okkutso backtracks. "It's just—well, Gojo-sensei's been talking about you for a while, and we want to make sure everything goes smoothly and we were all really excited to meet you so—" 

He keeps rambling like that until Inumaki pats his shoulder. You laugh, amused. 

"I wasn't offended or anything." You tell him before his words sink in. "Wait, Satoru talks about me?" 

"All the time." Maki responds, an edge to her voice. "'Greeny this', 'Greeny that'." 

"We usually tune him out when he gets like that," Panda says, "honestly, we didn't even think you were real until just now." 

"I always thought 'Greeny' was an inside joke Gojo-sensei and Haibara-sensei had," Okkotsu admits. 

Something warm bubbles in your stomach. 

"So," Fushiguro speaks, "how do you know Gojo, anyway?" 

You didn't know the story Gojo told them so you simply keep it vague. 

"I knew him as a kid." 

It's Panda who gets the most excited about this. 

"Really? What was he like as a teenager?" 

"A brat." You instantly respond, and then you think a little more. "But I don't think that ever changed." 

They ask you a couple more questions about Gojo's high school days. You oblige, thinking this as payback for how Satoru dropped you here without saying anything. You don't know how long you spend out there, airing out Gojo's younger days while his students get increasingly giggly. 

Okkotsu is the one who notices the crowd is moving. 

"I think they opened the doors." He smiles. "Let's go, everyone." 

You follow behind Maki, admiring the architecture. It's a grand building. Sparkling crystal glass lets the sunlight bleed in. The decoration was something else entirely. Small white flowers adorn the chandelier, and they cascade down the edges. Ice sculptures of angels greeted the guests. Live music was already playing. Satoru knows how to plan a wedding. 

Maki finds you all seats. You sit next to her. Fushiguro follows you. Okkutso, Inumaki, and Panda take the seats behind you. While you wait for the guests to settle down, you pass your time, waiting for the students to bicker with one another. From your assumption, it looked as though Maki, Panda, and occasionally Inumaki butted heads with each other. Okkutso often served as the timid referee, trying to get everyone to calm down, which almost always made things worse. Fushiguro just elected to ignore everything. 

"Are they always like this?" You lean over to whisper to him. Fushiguro gives a tired nod. 

"Every. Single. Day." He's saying this from experience, but at least you get a show. 

Everyone settles down eventually. The kids grow quiet when the music starts to swell. The indoor lights dim. It's starting. 

You've never been to a wedding this grand before. There was a live orchestra. Women and men were dressed in baby blue, gently strumming away their cellos, violins, and violas. 

It's how you miss Satoru's entrance. He's already standing on the altar by the time you look back. He's changed into something more formal. The suit and green tie fit him. A perfectly put-together beauty. As though he can sense your stare, he catches your eye and winks. 

But why was he already up there? Shouldn't he be—

"Sensei's coming!" Okkotsu whisper-yells. Inumaki hushes him.

Everyone turns to face the door. You do, too. 

Your heart stops when you see him. 

It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. 

You don't think you're breathing when you watch him walk down the aisle. The music is low, barely loud enough to hide the click of his heels. He takes his rightful place beside Satoru, his best man. Satoru gives him a nudge, and Suguru shakes his head fondly. 

Everyone turns to see Shoko's entrance. You should too, but you keep staring at him. How much he's changed since high school. How much he's changed since he waltzed onstage wearing a priest's outfit, filled with nothing but empty hatred for those he viewed as weak. 

But he's not wearing that twisted monk costume. His eyes aren't dull and dead and bitter. There's no sickly faux smile on his lips.

Today, Suguru looks like the happiest man on Earth. 

His eyes are wide and eager and sparkling purple beauties. He's 27, but he looks younger. The lines of exhaustion and heartbreak aren't so prominent. And you—and you—

You just sit there, watching as Shoko walks up to the altar, watching as they stand as bride and groom. His daughters, adorned in pretty blue dresses, stand right behind him, smiling so hard you're sure it hurts. The priest speaks. They say their vows. You can't hear a single word. It's like you're behind a glass wall, and you can see him, but you can't feel him. 

 When they kiss, everything comes back. The crowd celebrates. Satoru ruffles Himeno's hair. Nanako smiles wider. Behind you, Inumaki and Panda sniffles. Okkotsu hands them a tissue. 

"It’s pretty." Maki comments. Fushiguro gives a hum of agreement. 

ⴵ

Satoru finds you and the kids when you're waiting for the reception to start. 

He appears behind you with a cheery, "And how are my lovely students holding up?" You almost spill your drink in shock.

"Sensei!" Okkotsu chirps. "Where's Geto-sensei and Ieiri-sensei?" 

"Shoko's around; Suguru's taking a break," Gojo answers with a grin. "If you don't mind me, I'll be stealing this one for a sec." 

He doesn't wait for an answer, steering you away by your shoulders. You look behind you. Panda waves. Fushiguro just looks even more upset. You wave back at them regardless. 

"I can't believe you put your students out on babysitting duty." You tell him. "And what's with this wedding? There's no alcohol anywhere." To make your point, you take another sip of your apple juice. 

"We have kids here. Kinda' have to make it alcohol-free," Satoru says. 

"The bartender could ID them." You suggest. 

"You think teens who fight curses daily wouldn't figure out how to get around that?" He grins. You frown at his frustratingly good response. 

“What’d you think of them?”

“Hm?”

“The kids.” He urges. “What’d you think?”

Your brows scrunch. You have no idea what he means by that. Eventually, you take a breath.

“I like how...close they are.” You eventually say. “The bond they share. They care. I think each one of them will be good sorcerers.”

He’s silent, and you think you might have misunderstood his question.

“I learned that from you,” Satoru says, “keeping them together, making sure they can grow, get stronger, together. You were always so insistent on that, back then. I’m glad you were. It was one of the best things about you.”

You stare at him. Really stare. You’ve never heard him sound so genuine, so sincere before. You look into his crystal-blue eyes, wide and earnest. Part of you wants to take a picture, so you could keep it forever.

Eventually, Gojo successfully drags you to a less crowded area of the party. He looks around. 

"Hm, he should be around here somewhere...?" Satoru hums to himself. 

"Who?" You ask. That question answers itself. 

Haibara Yu is waiting a little ways ahead. By now, the sun was starting to set. His brown hair turned gold. Gojo eagerly hurries you forward as he calls out to him. You stumble, still lost at what you're seeing. 

"Guess who I brought?" Gojo sweetly sings, Yu-Haibara, he hasn't let you call him Yu yet-tilts his head.

He smiles, confused. "Oh? Hello!" He says cheerily. "Who's this?" He asks to Gojo. 

"Guess," Gojo says. 

Haibara stares at you, and you decide to give him a hint. 

"Brocolli head?" 

He gapes. It's almost the same reaction he had last time. Last time, when you had to convince him to kill you so you could go back in time to save Satoru.  

"No way." He gasps. "Greeny?"

 He doesn't remember. He wouldn't, why would he? Still, it's nice to see the innocence on his face, rather than the pain you saw last time. Right before he snapped your neck. 

You think he was crying the last time you two saw each other. 

In this timeline, Haibara is hugging you so tightly you think your head's about to explode. 

"It's really you?" Haibara says, but his bear hug muffles his words. "“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again even though Satoru said we'd see you again one day, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

"Haibara." You plead. "You're suffocating me." 

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry." He lets you go, and your lungs inflate again. "I—I'm just so happy! And—and you're a girl!" He says it like it's the most surprising thing about this whole revelation. Maybe it is. 

Satoru is always needy for attention and whines as always. 

"Wait, you two came up with a code word?" He complains. "That's not fair. We never did that." 

"I mean, it was Haibara's idea." You point out. "You should be smarter next time." 

That makes him frown even more. You laugh. 

"Yu." Haibara suddenly says. 

You turn to him. 

"My friends call me Yu." 

It's nice to know that no matter what timeline you're in, Yu will always remain stagnant. 

"Okay, lover boy," Gojo says with a not-so playful bite, "keep your eye on this one for me, okay? Gotta' go do more best man shit." 

Satoru's gone once again. You look at Yu. 

"He's been running around since I got here." You tell him. "Does that man ever rest?" 

"Nope." Haibara grins, before taking your arm. "Follow me; you should meet a couple of people." 

He leads you through the crowd. You spot the teens moping about out of the corner of your eye. Panda and Inumaki seem to be in a push-up competition. Maki is egging them on. You wisely decide not to disturb them.

Yu drops your hand to wave to someone. There's no need for any kind of introduction for these people. 

Riko and Misato Kuroi smile at you first. Miss Kuroi's aged beautifully since you last saw her. Wispy silver hair knitted seamlessly into brown strands. She never got that chance to grow gray hairs last time. You're staring so much it might be rude. 

"Yu?" Riko asks and you think you're about to break because they know each other. "Who's this?" 

"Uh, this-" Haibara chokes before looking at your awkwardly. Right, he doesn't know your actual name. 

Come to think of it, Satoru doesn't know either. He never bothered to ask too. Probably on purpose. Ass. 

You smile and politely introduce yourself. It takes everything within you not to scream and hug them both because in this timeline, they don't know you. They never did. 

But you can change that now. 

"Hello!" Riko beams. "I'm Kuroi Riko, but just Riko is fine! And this is my mom: Kuroi Misato." 

She says that so plainly, like that had always been her name, like Miss Kuroi had always been her mother. You wonder how long it took for those two realities to become her norm. Or maybe it hardly took time at all. 

"It's wonderful to meet you." Miss Kuroi states before she tilts her head. "May I ask how you know the couple?" 

Haibara jumps in for you. "Um—actually, this is Satoru's date!" He fumbles. 

You do a double-take. No, you technically weren't Satoru's date. But you technically entered the wedding with him. And he was the one who 'invited' you. Fuck, you were the brat's date. Damn it. 

"Ah." Nanami cuts in for the first time. "So, you're the one Gojo won't shut up about." 

His accusation sounds like Maki's, but less harsh. You wonder if he has a favorite student. 

Nanami looks the most different from his high school counterpart. A new haircut, less slouchy, more tall and refined. He blinks at you, slow and calculating. 

Sheepishly, you laugh. "Yeah...that's me....sorry." 

"Don't be rude, Kento." 

Ieiri arrives with a soft smile and painted features. She's changed out of her glowing gown, sticking to something small yet perfectly elegant: a short white dress that curls ever so slightly at the ends. Riko's the first to hug her, ecstatic. Ieiri hugs her back, too, because they've become friends in this timeline. The circles under her eyes are less prominent. Her smile looks more real. This isn't the timeline where she's had to bury her friend; it's the timeline she's allowed to marry him. 

"Congratulations," you say politely once everyone is done cooing over her. She smiles at you, the way a stranger would. 

Then, her head tilts. 

"Sorry," she hesitates, "do we know each other? You...feel familiar somehow." 

Ieiri was the first person you met when you activated your technique and returned to the past for the first time. She was the one who calmed you down, kept you grounded. In a way, you owed a lot to her. 

Looking at her, you can see why Suguru kept her cigarettes in his pocket. 

You shrug. "I must have one of those faces." 

The attention turns back to her, her beautiful dress, pure and white and beautiful. You feel Haibara stare at you. You shake your head at him. It wasn't the time. Maybe it never will be. 

"This really is a beautiful wedding," Mistato says when the conversation reaches a pleasant lull, "I can't imagine how much it cost." 

She shrugged. 

"Probably a fortune, but I let Satoru deal with the numbers." 

Misato looks confused, and Ieiri laughs. 

"He paid for everything." She gestures to the venue. "Suguru and I didn't have to fork over a single cent. It's the least he could do for being a pain in the ass for 12 years." 

Damn, you knew he was rich, but you didn't know he was rich rich. Maybe you should consider being nicer to him. If you ask politely, perhaps you could get him to pay off your car loans. 

"I'll get him to pay for my wedding too." Riko proudly says. 

"He'd probably do it, too." Ieiri nodded along. "He offered, just like that. The only thing he was hellbent on was the date." 

"The date?" You echo. Ieiri shrugs, messing with her laced sleeves. 

"Said it absolutely needed to be on December 24th. Something about spirituality. I never listened to that guy's rants." 

It comes to you immediately, but you're pushing it away. No way. Satoru wouldn't. There isn't a chance in Hell he would have convinced his friends to have the biggest day of their lives on the same day you were supposed to meet him. 

No, of course, he would do that. Ass. 

"So, how do you know Satoru?" Riko asks you. When she realized how rude it sounded, she backtracked. "I—I didn't mean anything by it! It's just...the guy only knows five people. When he spoke about bringing someone along, I thought he was joking." 

"Same here," Nanami says. Haibara stifles a laugh, and you realize all of Satoru's friends think he's a loser. 

Friends. Back then, he only had one of those. 

"Um." You toss Haibara look. He shrugs. "We met a few years ago! But we just recently reconnected." That's close enough to the truth. Good enough. 

You remember your blunder. You sympathetically look at Shoko. 

"I'm so sorry I wasn't able to bring a gift," you say, "I was blindsided. Satoru barely gave me enough time to get ready." 

You laugh, and you're hoping they laugh it off too. They don't, instead Shoko, Nanami, Riko, and Misato look at you. Then, they look at each other. 

Nanami speaks first. He clears his throat.

"Did Satoru....abduct you?" 

"What?" 

"That sounds like him." Misato sighs, more exasperated than anything else.

Riko nods along with her. "We tried to teach him. Where did we go wrong?" she laments. 

Haibara and Shoko laugh as you desperately try to defend your not-date date because he didn't actually kidnap you, but he did bring you here against your will and started dragging you along like some toy, but it's the context about that that matters. You wished they could've had a bit more faith in him. Poor Satoru. 

It ends eventually. Ieiri excuses herself. Riko and Misato go too. You stay with Yu and Nanami, watching as they get into increasingly petty arguments. It’s hilarious how quickly Yu is able to bring the usually staunch and serious Nanami down to his level.

Sometime later, you find yourself roaming the balcony. The party roars on indoors, laughing, talking, cheering. It was chilly outside, you should go back in within a few minutes. You just needed a break from the action.

The sun had already gone down, by then. You were somewhere out in the country. The buildings sparsely dotted the horizon. There were no artificial lights. It meant the stars could shine as brightly as they wanted to, with no one to stop them.

You hadn’t seen Satoru in a while. You had no idea where he’d run off to. It didn’t matter; you knew he’d eventually pop out of a box to harass you again.

But now that you had space for yourself, you needed to think.

You rest your hands over the rail, looking up at the stars. There were so many out tonight.

You fixed the future. You changed everything. Does that mean you still needed to tell Satoru about the past timeline?

You promised him answers the next time you two met. You promised him an explanation. He waited ten years for that. You pinch at the fabric of the dress.

This future that you carefully built, crafted with your own hands. It’s delicate, a glass castle.

It’s justice, but did that make it right?

“Want one?”

The voice makes you jump.

He stares at you, leaning against the rail. Purple eyes, mirroring the starry sky.

You knew these eyes, for a while, they used to be yours.

You stare at him. Then, you stare at the cigarette in his inviting fingers.

Your fingers twitch.

“No—no, I’m fine.” You smile. “Actually, I’m trying to quit.”

“Ah.” Suguru says, lighting it up before bringing it to his lips. “Shouldn’t tempt you, then. Pardon, what’s your name?”

You can hear your heartbeat. It’s loud, right in your ear. You wonder if he can hear it too. Are his curses around? Can they smell it? Your blood? Are they still as ravenous as the last time, eager to tear and fester and eat—

“It’s Greeny,” you say, “you can call me Greeny. ”

He hums in approval.

“Geto Suguru,” he says, “though I’m pretty sure you already know that.” You both share a huff of laughter.

“My fiancé quit a few years ago.” Suguru starts, mentioning the cherry-red cigarette. “Thought I’d follow in her footsteps, but here I am.” He shrugs before he winces.

“Wife, sorry.” He corrects. “I still can’t believe it.”

The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.

You smile at his tone. He sounded like that 12 years ago, when he was still just a kid. Full of soft wonder.

“I’m guessing you’ve been planning this for a long time?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Shoko did most of the work. This is all thanks to her, really. Unfortunately, I was too busy managing the school.”

“I heard you were a principal?” You prod.

Suguru nods, “Our current one recently retired. I’m trying to follow in his footsteps.”

You think of Principal Yaga, the one with sunglasses and a stern expression. He looks a lot like Nanami in some areas. But he acts more like Suguru than anyone you ever knew.

And you knew Suguru; you knew him as well as yourself.

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru. 

“I can tell you’re already making him proud,” you say, “I met your students. They’re good kids.”

He smiles, soft, gentle. Those used to be your smiles.

“They are, aren’t they?” He repeats back, “some of them had a rough beginning, but it all worked out somehow.” He hums. “I’m glad.”

His daughters, the ones standing beside him as he kissed his wife, wide eyes and even wider grins. They didn’t have the darkness in their faces. The bitterness. Like they did in the last timeline.

You were glad, too.

This death is a lot more painful than the others. 

The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die. 

You forgive Suguru.

“It sounds like you’ve had personal experience with that sort of thing.” When he looks at you, you quickly say. “Your eyes. I—I can see it. I’ve always been good at that sort of thing.” You knew Suguru. His eyes matched yours.

He doesn’t look offended. Suguru takes a minute, reaching up to his black locks. He removes the elastic, pretty black hair falls down his shoulders He’s grown it out since high school. It reaches his waist.

He eases himself back onto the rail, looking up at the stars. You follow.

“Yeah, I do,” he’s saying, “I think I know what it’s like being them at that age. Alone, isolated, slipping down a rock. Drowning, but no one can see it.” Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised.

“When I was younger...it was really hard. Some days, I was so full of hate and anger. The pain was a lot. Sometimes, I had this despicable idea that it was someone else’s fault I was like this. Someone innocent.” He laughs, bitter.

“And, on those days, I would often feel something.”

You look at him. Suguru doesn’t stare back, eyes lost in the stars.

“Sometimes, it’d be a voice. Other times a small nudge on my shoulders, pushing me in the right direction. Once, it was a hug, keeping me from doing something that would’ve changed my life forever. And it would be just a bit more bearable, like I wasn’t so alone.”

You can feel your heart in your throat. Your fingers grip the railing.

“What did you think it was?” You expect hate, disgust. You want to give yourself a reason.

You forgive Suguru.

He takes a moment, coming back from heaven. His eyes find yours.

“I’m not sure.” He admits. “I’m not religious, but I always liked to think of it as—”

An angel. A hand of God. A higher power. It doesn’t matter what Suguru said, you knew what he meant.

A part of you always wondered why Suguru would return to Jujutsu society, when he wanted nothing more than to run from it. You expected him to retire. Instead, he took the reins of the beast, wrangling it down. Now, you get why.

“That’s why you’re a teacher now,” you say, “so you could be the same thing for your students.”

He nods, and you think of Maki. You think of Okkutso. You think of Panda. You think of Fushiguro. You think of Inumaki. Suguru must have been there for Maki, even when her own family wasn’t. Suguru must have helped Okkutso control his technique, being the only one who could. Suguru, must have made these kids better than they ever possibly could’ve been. Fighting for them instead of against them.

“Sorry.” He blinks. “I—I didn’t mean to get so sentimental. It’s been years since I thought about my own highschool years.” He laughs, voice full.

“You’re just...really nice to talk to.” He hums. “I don’t think I can explain it but it’s...familiar somehow.”

You look at him. He’s older, but in some ways, he hasn’t really changed. Even now, when you look at him, you see a reflection of yourself.

“I can see why he likes you.”

“Who?” You ask when he brings you back from your thoughts.

“The idiot.” But he says it so affectionately, so lovingly, you can’t help but smile. “I saw him dragging you around earlier. Sorry about that. I would’ve stepped in but...” He trails off, thinking.

“It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

You hadn’t noticed anything about Satoru. He smiled just as brightly as he did in highschool. Now, you wonder if this was the first time in a while Suguru had seen that side of him: carefree, no longer The Strongest.

It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.

You forgive Suguru. 

“Are you and him…” he trails off.

“No.” You laugh. “No, I’m his….childhood friend. We just haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head. “How long has it been?”

You decide to be honest. “Ten or so years, give or take?”

He whistles.

“No wonder he’s bouncing around like a yipping puppy,” He says, and you can’t help but agree with the analogy.

“In any case.” He leans over the railing. His cigarette is down to its last embers. “I hope you stick around. A friend…I think he needs more of those more than anything.”

You stare at him. Those purple eyes. You can see what Shoko sees. You can see what Satoru saw all those timelines ago. They only ever saw the light, the gentleness, of Geto Suguru.

You are the only person in the world who knows him.

He’s killed people. He’s killed you. No matter how much logic or justification or pain was involved, the blood of the innocent is still sticky. It still drips across the pavement, scarring the sidewalk in red. It still hurts.

When Suguru would kill you, you’d force yourself to forgive him. You needed to die without regrets, because the pain of hatred builds up, you’ve seen it happen firsthand.

But now that you’re free, what Suguru did to you wasn't fair. Just because his innocence was taken away doesn’t give him the right to take the lives of others. It never gives anyone the right to murder. You keep telling yourself that this Suguru and that Suguru were different…but they weren’t. Not really. The look in their eyes matched perfectly.

He’d do it again, in the right conditions.

And yet.

You forgive Suguru.

You can’t judge him. If there is a God, maybe Suguru will have to pay for the crimes he committed all those timelines ago. You can’t save Suguru from that. But to you, the debt is paid.

Besides, you’re too tired to hate him. And you won’t allow yourself to fall into the same cycle he struggled to break free from.

You look into his eyes. Then, at his ring. You smile. 

And that's enough.

“I will,” you say, “I will.”

Then, as two parts of a whole, the two of you stare at the stars for a little while longer.

ⴵ

The reception was nice. A fancy dinner, you can’t remember the last time you ate something. The speeches were beautiful, especially Shoko’s. You swore you saw Nanami shed a tear, but you never said anything about it.

You saw a glimpse of white hair in the crowd before the first dance began. Stunning music. The couple must have practiced for months. Bride and Groom, husband and wife, held hands and looked at each other like they were the only ones in the room.

Megumi stood beside you, watching Ieiri and Geto sway to the music. As though the kid could sense him, Megumi’s serene face sours. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when there’s a tap on your shoulder.

“Cute, huh?” Satoru starts, mentioning at the dance. “It didn’t look this put-together in the beginning. Shoko gave him a ton of bruises,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

You frown. “Shouldn’t you be doing something else than gossiping about your friends?”

“I am! I’m checking up on my son!” And then he turns to Fushiguru. “Megumi!”

“No.” Fushiguro instantly rebukes.

“Don’t mind him.” Satoru chides. “He’s going through an angst phase.” Fushiguro rolls his eyes, but he shifts just a tiny bit.

“Y’know, he was actually supposed to be the flower boy, but he refused. Such a shame, the pictures would’ve been something else.” Gojo sighed and now you’re convinced they aren’t father and son.

“That was never going to happen.” Fushiguro says, and as if he thinks you’re naive enough to believe Satoru, he glances at you. “Never.”

“Of course not.” You crack a smile.

You watch as Ieiri descends into a graceful spin, Geto taking the lead. When he tips her over, your eyes soften.

Gojo leans over; you can feel his breath in your ear.

“Next year.” He whispers. “For us, it’ll definetly be next year.”

You jerk away but he’s already skipping off, having the audacity to call out a cheerful ‘toodles’.

“What did he say?” Fushiguro questions.

That’s what you wanted to know, too, but you were so tired, and the night was so long, and you couldn’t bother to get out your Gojo translator and figure it out.

“The same stuff he always says. Nonsense.” You decide on. Fushiguro takes the answer.

“I don’t understand how he has all that energy.” You mutter, watching Satoru disappear through the crowd.

“I thought he’d get better with age, turns out I was wrong,” Fushiguro says.

“I wanted to ask,” you start, your eyes still on Ieiri and Geto, “how do you know Gojo? Aren’t you still in middle school?”

“Everyone knows Gojo. He’s pretty famous in the jujutsu world.” Fushiguro shrugs. “But personally...he’s my benefactor. Took me and my sister in when my parents left.”

You look at him. And you feel like an idiot.

He’s the spitting image of his father. Sharp cobalt eyes. Black hair. Fushiguro Toji is all over the young man.

Gojo Satoru, the one who killed the sorcerer killer, took care of his enemy’s children.

“What?” Fushiguro asks when you’re smiling

You shake your head. “No, no it’s nothing.”

Satoru told you that you’re the one who taught him about the importance of bonds. But you think he should take some of the credit too.

ⴵ

Eventually, everyone gets on the dancefloor.

It’s a mess. Absolute chaos. Panda and Inumaki are trying and failing to do the waltz. Maki and Okkuttso are lightly swaying to the music. They’ve managed to get Fushiguro up there too. Though, he doesn’t look extremely happy.

The adults are even worse. Apparently, the retired principal Yaga is a pretty good dancer. You think one of them found alcohol, because Haibara looks absolutely wasted. He’s swinging his arms around, almost hitting the other guests. Nanami is trying to get his attention, but the guy wants none of it. When Haibara catches your eye, he wildly waves in clear invitation.

You smile back, but you shake your head. You think he’s about to come up to you, but something else catches his eye, and he’s grinning at a very irrated-looking Iori.

You were sitting on a chair, just people-watching. It was a nice break from everything. To listen to the music, lightly tap your feet, play with the frill of your dress. You weren’t really in the mood to dance.

Besides, you weren’t technically invited here anyway. It’d be rude to just burst on the scene.

“There you are! Been looking all over for you!”

You don’t have to look over to see who it is. Satoru slumps down in a chair next to you.

“Greeny, you gotta’ do something about your cursed energy. It’s so weak. Like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly.

“Always happy to help.” Satoru beams, and then he glances over at the floor.

“We’re dancing after this song, by the way.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s so cute you think you have a choice, Greeny.”

You frown. “There’s no point in calling me Greeny anymore. Unless you still don’t know my name.”

“I do, but it doesn’t matter,” Satoru says arrogantly. “You’ll always be my Greeny to me.”

You roll your eyes. Even now, he’s a brat. You thought all these years would mellow him down just a tiny bit.

“So,” you start, “are you done with your ‘best man shit’?”

“Yup.” He announces. “Now, I can sit back and enjoy the show.”

You smile, but you can still feel the butterflies in your stomach. He’s been running around so far and it’s given you time. Now, that he’s free, it means you two have to talk.

And you aren’t sure if you truly want to.

You flex your fingers.

“Um, how have you—”

“Stop.” Satoru interrupts. “Let’s not make this awful, Greeny.”

You nod immediately, relaxing. His voice gets softer, after that.

“I’m glad you chose that color,” he says, “I was sorta’ hoping you would.”

You look down at the dress. A deep green. You hadn’t even thought about the color, the boutique lady had basically thrown it at you.

The shade of Satoru’s green tie matches your dress. You can feel your smile again. Typical.

“I’m glad I did too,” you honestly say. And then, you continue to fiddle with your fingers. Ultimately, you decide to just bite the bullet.

“I thought you’d be mad.” You finally say, words jittery and unfocused. “Angry at me for...for what I did.”

He’s silent, and you feared that it was all true. The laughs and the jabs were all a facade.

"I don’t think I was ever mad." He responds, staring into the crowd. "Hurt, yeah. Then, it faded into something that stung everytime I thought about it, and then...something else. And now, I know it's a waste to get mad because you're finally here now. With me." 

His tone pitches upwards as he reaches over to painfully pinch your cheek. 

"'Sides, I know you can't escape me anymore, Greeny," Satoru cheerfully says, "Now, I know your face, your name, and with little effort, I could probably find your address, your social security-" 

"Okay! Okay!" You pull away, rubbing your cheek. Damn, he's scary. "Threat acknowledged." 

"Good!" He straightens himself back up, and you find yourself slumping again.

“I am sorry, though,” you say, “for leaving like that. I...I always wished I could do that a bit differently. You deserved better.”

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t blame yourself for only doing what you could. It eats at you, Greeny. It really does.” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair.

“You deserved better too,” he says back, voice barely above the music, “I always had some regrets about those years. I thought I could’ve done more to help you, back then.”

There it was again: selfishness, the urge to do good to others while retaining that greed. You supposed you taught him that.

You put your face in your hands.

“Even though, you dragged me here against my will, I feel so guilty being here.” You complain, hoping it’ll lighten the mood. “You should apologize to everyone because I crashed the party.”

Satoru scoffs. “What are you talking about? Everyone loves you!” He exclaims. “Look, Yu’s ecstatic. Riko won’t stop gushing about you; you even have Nanami’s approval! I don’t even have that!” You roll your eyes, sinking back in your seat.

“Besides, you needed to come. You needed to see it.”

“See what?” You ask.

“This.” He points to the venue, the ballroom full of glittery whites and sparkles.

“Look around, Greeny. Look at all the people you saved.”

Haibara and Riko are dancing together. Two dead children finally had the chance to grow up. Misato speaks to Nanami. Beautiful gray hair, eyes that aren’t so tired. Shoko sparkling in her dress, and Geto—

The same day he was supposed to die, Suguru was getting married.

“Thank you.” When you look at him, Satoru is staring right at you. His sea eyes give everything and more.

“Thank you for saving all of us.”

Your heart skips, then just stops completely. You can’t cry, you won’t not here, not on such a happy day. But your eyes are stinging. And Satoru is turning blurry.

And then, like Satoru always does, he ruins the moment.

"Did you just fall for me a little?"

His head tilts. That same mischievous, irritating smile lights up on his face.

You relax, laughing out of disbelief. When you speak, your voice is barely scratchy. "You're so full of yourself; it's actually a little cute." 

"You think I'm cute?" 

"Did you hear anything else that I just said?" 

"I heard you think I'm cute,” Satoru responds proudly, and you doubt he’d ever let you hear the end of it.

“And besides! Today is supposed to be a celebration for you too!” He exclaims.

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” Satoru says proudly, “you did it! You became a fully-fledged sorcerer. Considering your low CE, you might pass as grade four, but when I talk to our new principal, I’m sure he’ll make things right. Get ready to join be and him in the big leagues.”

You could read between the lines. Satoru wanted to tell everyone. You think a while ago, you might have agreed, but...

“Can...Can I quit being a sorcerer?” You ask. “I’m tired.”

He takes a second. Some of you wonders if he’ll try to talk you out of this. It’s more beneficial for him if you stay as an asset to the jujutsu world. How many people’s lives will be saved by a technique like yours? To be able to go back in time again and again and again. To die again and again and again.

“Someone once told me that it’s okay to be selfish every once in a while.” Satoru looks at you, eyes like lilies once again. “I won’t fault you for it. I don’t think anyone will.”

When you try to smile, it feels wobbly.

“That person sounds smart.”

“Nah.” He grins. “An idiot, actually. Way too oblivious.”

You laugh, despite the insult.

“Quit,” Satoru says when it’s quiet again, “do whatever you want. But...you can’t run away, okay? I won’t let you.”

It’s barely a touch. His hand reaches for your fingers. You’re the one who grabs it.

“I won’t.” You promise. “I won’t.”

He’s satisfied with that. You can tell when he squeezes your hand back.

You look at him, and you decide you won't tell Satoru what happened in the last timeline.

There's no point. It wouldn't do anything but shatter everything he worked so hard to make. Why would you break the glass when you could just add concrete, make it stronger? You saved everyone. A few white lies here and there just keep this future safe.

And you know this Satoru. If you told him, he'd carry that burden with you like the soldier he was. You don't want him to do that. You don't want him to have the same look you see in your own face. One last sacrifice.

When you come back, Satoru is shifting in his seat, uncrossing his legs.

“So...about that dance?”

“Ugh, fine.” You stand up. “One dance. And if you do anything embarrassing, I’m leaving.”

“Clearly, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He grins, standing up himself.

He doesn’t release your hand for the rest of the night.

You don’t mind.

(When you disappear again, Maki’s the one who finds you.

By then, it’d been long into the night. Shoko and Suguru were already gone, off to their honeymoon in the Maldives. Riko, Misato, and most of the students were sleeping off the night. Maki, his most diligent student, was helping the remaining adults pack up the venue.

She’s dragging chairs away when she grunts in Satoru’ direction.

“By the way, your date’s sleeping outside.”

Ah, you were on the balcony. No wonder he couldn’t find you. Satoru needed to do something about your cursed energy. What’s the point of having six eyes when he can’t even find the one person who’s evaded him for a decade?

You’ve completely passed out. Slumped over on a chair, head bent at an angle that could not be comfortable. Satoru knows he should feel bad. He dragged you around the entire night like a ragdoll. This was partially his fault.

He can’t really blame himself, not when you were finally here.

It still feels like a dream. Being able to hear your voice, not Suguru’s, not Yu’s. Your touch. Your eyes. Your face. Your laugh. For years, he’s wondered what it sounded like.

Reality beat even his perfect daydreams.

Seeing you up there on the Tokyo Skytree. The wind pushing your hair back and forth. It was breathtaking.

Even the lights of Tokyo, couldn’t compare to you.

He leans down, lips at your ear, voice low because he’s too prideful to let anyone else hear, not even you.

“I know it’s too late, but you looked really pretty tonight.”

You say nothing, but you shift, murmur something in your sleep. It’s all he needs.

He ditches the clean up party, taking you within his arms. He thinks he says something to Yu, but Satoru doesn’t really care if he heard. Right now, he only has one priority.

Tonight, he’ll sleep on the hotel’s pull-out sofa while you snooze in the luxurious queen-sized bed. You’ll probably be mad in the morning, something about how you should’ve taken the couch, but he doesn’t mind your mindless acts of selflessness.

He’s waited a decade. He deserves to keep you.

And he knows you won’t fault him for being selfish one more time.)

Thinking about our boys this fine evening,,

What would their reactions be if you bought them a present?

TURNING TABLES

A/N: My love, I’ve been sitting on this ask for MONTHS. Just chomping at the bit to do it justice. I hope it’s everything you wanted. Enjoy this fluffy fluffy drabble with a lil sprinkle of angst 💕

C/W: Nada, the boys just being adorable. Established relationship. I hope this gives y’all as many delulus as it did me.

GETO

“You’re never going to guess what I got you for your birthday, dimples!” 

Your pretty finger digs into the crater in his left cheek that you’re so fond of. 

Suguru swallows a grin. 

Two things. 

One, you’re the only human in this lifetime and the next, who could call him that and wake up the next morning. 

Two, he knows exactly what you got him. 

Because you’re oblivious in a way that made him fall for you in the first place. 

To you, birthdays are sacred. And must be treated like National holidays. All week you’ve been padding around the apartment, glee in your footsteps. 

You’ve been staring at him. A whole galaxy in your eyes. Precious little giggles escape you at every turn. Because there’s a secret only you are privy to. 

Or so you think. 

Suguru has heard you badgering someone over the phone. 

“No no, it can’t be purple. His favorite color isn’t purple. It’s indigo. The shade between royal blue and violet. Blue. Indigo. Violet. ROY-G-BIV. Rainbows. Indigo.”

You almost flung your laptop off the balcony   two mornings ago. 

Instead of just closing the browser displaying shipment confirmation for the silver analogue watch with the indigo face and chrome bezel. You tossed the entire laptop away and Suguru had to lunge to catch it from shattering.

You are clumsy. 

And terrible at surprises. 

And he adores you. 

More than he knew possible. 

Suguru shrugs out of his grey peacoat. Dinner was phenomenal, yes. But now he needs you on his tongue for dessert. 

He watches you step out of your heels, somewhat upset you didn’t let him take them off for you. 

“On the couch and close your eyes!!” You squeal before disappearing into your bedroom. 

“Yes ma’am.” Low chuckle spilling from his lips. 

You’ll be the one following orders in a second. 

Suguru does as he is instructed. Back against the plush couch. Legs spread a little further than usual. 

You’ve had him stiff as a board the whole night. Doting over him. Petting his thigh. Pretty lips full of quick kisses and “Happy Birthday baby” and “I love you.” He almost took you at the dinner table. 

But he’s a gentleman. 

At least, before you get behind closed doors. 

“Are you ready for me, birthday boy?” You call out. And your voice alone strips him of manners. 

“I’m ready to be inside you, gorgeous.” Suguru palms the length of his shaft. 

“Suguru!!! Behave.”

In a matter of seconds, your full body weight lands on his lap. You straddle him and his hands fly to your rounded hips. 

You are wearing significantly less clothes than you were 2 minutes ago. 

Suguru eyes flare open. The zipper on his suit pants nearly breaks. 

“Ohhh, my pretty girl.” 

His eyes violate every inch of your negligée. Lacy. Delicate. Riding the gentle dips and curves of your beautiful frame. Saliva pools in his mouth. You have no idea what he’s going—

“Eyes closed!” Your tiny palm can barely span his face. 

“Alright, alright.” Suguru hikes you further onto his hips. His rod thundering against his fabric. 

“Before you start, baby. Reach into my jacket pocket for me?” 

“What?” Suguru always loved how pretty you sound when you’re shocked. 

“Do it.” 

Your fingers scramble to follow his order. Always so compliant. His name, tangled with an airy little gasp escapes next. 

“Suguru Geto, what is this?!” 

Eyes still closed, Suguru flashes a mischievous grin. You’re so pretty when you’re stern with him. You punish (reward) him with a quick slap on his chest. 

Suguru pulls his lids open. He finds you holding 2 nearly identical boxes. A bigger one in the right, a demure one in the left. 

You’re flushed up to your ears and Suguru hasn’t ever seen a woman so beautiful. 

“What is this?” You probe again, eyes glossed over. 

Suguru gently works the smaller box out of your hand. 

“A present,” he plants a chaste kiss on your pouty little lips. 

“But it’s your birthday. And I wanted to surprise you. I saw this—“

“—silver analog watch with an indigo face and chrome bezel, I know baby.” Suguru’s lips find your flushed, warm cheeks. 

“Suguru…”

“So I got one for you too.” He opens the smaller box, just as you reveal his surprise. 

Yours is daintier. Scaled down to your small wrist. Both of your initials inscribed at the base of your watch. 

“Baby.”

Mist coats your eyes the way it does. The way your love coats him. In all places. All at once. Gentle. Refreshing.

A blessing. 

“You are the love of my life. In this lifetime and the next. Thank you for the birthday gift, sweet girl.”

                                 ——

GOJO

“Satoru, Jesus Chri—are you kidding me right now?” 

“What’s the matter, baby?” 

Your boyfriend was born with a silver spoon and a silver tongue. 

An expert at rolling, whipping and twisting words until they’re saltwater taffy. Sweet on the mouth. Sticky in reality. And at its worst, kryptonite to the person consuming them. 

As if he didn’t just steal the pink satin bow, from your head. And your hair falls in a slow cascade around your face. 

Satoru slides into the seat across the dinner table. Candlelight kissing his high cheekbones. Tonight makes it three years from the day he asked you to be his. 

Not that it matters, really. Because time crumbles to stardust around him. 

Every minute, every second with Satoru feels like the first. Your heart can’t tell the difference, and you’ve stopped trying to. 

A mischievous grin reaches his 10-carat diamond eyes. Razor sharp, and a reminder to everyone within a 1 mile radius that he’s not of this world. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Satoru toys with your hair tie. Deftly knotting it into a bow on his wrist — an egregious accessory next to his cuff links. 

“Save the pillow talk, Satoru!”

 “What?” He retorts, slinging his elbow over the back of his chair. Dangling his newest prized possession in your face. 

“Is it so bad that your boyfriend wants to feel close to you? You won’t let me sit next to you — I’m desperate.” 

You feign a gasp and lean over. Hushed because what you’re about to say is sacrilegious. 

“The Strongest Sorcerer in the modern era won’t survive sitting across from his girlfriend instead of next to her? Don’t let the bad guys hear that.” 

Bellowing laughter erupts. His base low and clear as an alpine lake. Your soprano a feather light harmony. 

Unbridled joy that is so unique to your relationship echoes throughout the dining room. Waiters and waitresses send fond smiles your way because the restaurant is dedicated to your celebration.

Satoru’s lips find the back of your hand. Embers from the candle catch the golden flecks of sunset in his Mediterranean Sea. Eyes with still waters, tonight.

He’s beautiful, your boy.

“Happy anniversary, princess.” 

“Happy anniversary, my love. I have something for you.”

 You glide your hand out of his grasp before he locks it in. Eyebrows already crawling to the center of his face. 

“I told you not to get—“

“Hush!” 

Always one to give, never one to receive, Satoru narrows his gaze. You know that look — he’s planning on tripling his retaliation gift. 

Satoru reluctantly takes the box out of your hands, while you watch on bated breath. 

His full lips hang open. Cotton candy dusting the tip of his nose, blooming to his ears. He’s never like this. Taken aback. Full of surprise.

Your full name tumbles out of his mouth. Almost foreign to your ears, but indulgent when coated in his rich, loving tone. 

Satoru pulls the leather bracelet out of the box. An infinity symbol woven in the center with your initials and his initials flanking either side. 

Before you get a chance to breathe again you’re standing in his arms. In the middle of the empty room. Face nearly eclipsed by his large hands.

“Baby,” Is all that escapes him before he crashes his lips onto yours. 

His tongue immediately begs for entry. Faint taste of mint chocolate ghosting your taste buds. 

It’s comforting. It’s dizzying. It’s Satoru.  

“L-let me explain the gift.” Panting out of his embrace. A light sheen already coating his eyes. He’s statuesque except for his thumbs that strum the apples of your cheeks. 

“Of course.”

“You’ll probably live forever, fighting demons and such—“

“Curses, baby. The demons are just personal.” He laughs. 

Satoru flashes another smile, but this one is blue. Melancholy in a way that tugs on your heart strings. You draw him in for a quick kiss. 

A mere bandaid on a lifetime of third degree burns.

“I know I’m not invincible like you and your friends. And you spend an inordinate amount of time dealing with the fact that I’m a Normie.” 

Satoru’s nose crinkles. “It’s not a crime to not see curses.” 

“I rather you not see them. I don’t want you subjected to that.” Grit in his voice and his eyes glaze over. You know that Satoru is watching gruesome memories on his mind’s big screen. 

“I know, handsome.”Your hand cups his face and he subconsciously unravels in it.  All but purring into your warmth. 

“But that doesn’t change the fact that the world needs you for far greater things than it needs me.” 

“Do not talk like—“

Your finger presses against his lips. Your boyfriend has a real habit of cutting you off and at this rate you two will never get to enjoy your dinner. 

A small chuckle escapes him. He’s sorry. And you continue.

“I got you that bracelet…because..” Suddenly shy under his undivided attention, you drop your gaze. Thumbing his new gift instead. 

You pause. He pauses. Everything around you halts.

Then it all tumbles out at once. 

“You’re it for me, Satoru. The One. Forever and always. In every life we’re reborn in, even if I can’t stick around as long as you can in this one.” 

Cheeks incinerated by your confession, you muster the courage to lock eyes with him once more. Nearly flat lined at what you see.

A crystal tear sliding down one side of his face. All of his sharp lines and angles, like melted butter. Mouth ajar. Moused. Imperfect. Like his heart is splayed open on his chest for the world to see. 

“Satoru…?”

Hearing his name jumpstarts his engine. Satoru lifts you into his arms and strides toward the exit in milliseconds. 

You toss your head back. Full of breathy giggles because this is the man you know and love. The modus operandi that made you fall so deeply for him in the first place. 

“Dinner! Baby our dinner!” You squeal a little too late, given that he’s 4 more long strides away from the door. 

“It’s taken care of. I’ll have them send it to the house.” Eyes straight ahead. A man on a special grade mission.

The two of you come to an abrupt stop just shy of the front door. Satoru rakes his glassy eyes over your flushed face.

“I would die for you. You know that, right?” His voice cracks. Actively staving off the flood threatening the rim of his eyes. 

“You and me…you know that I…I lo—, I’ve…you’re the only…fuck.” 

Satoru draws in a frustrated sigh. Tossing his head to the side. Hopeful that looking at anything else in the room would make this easier.

 “You know why I cant.. I can’t say it baby I—“

“I know, Satoru. I know.” 

‘Because love is the most twisted curse of all.’

And he believes that the moment it falls off his tongue, you’ll be taken from him. 

Your lover’s presence is grandiose. Demanding. Loud. Noticed from miles away. Earth shifted on its axis when he was born. 

A loan from Heaven’s stash. He’s a gift to mankind and your personal Moon.

But his love is the opposite.

Found only in quiet moments. Moments when his shield, breast plate and sword clamor against the hardwood floor after saving lives time and time again. 

When you wake up to him staring at you, caressing your cheeks. A gentle wake up call because he needs a kiss. A temporary reprieve from his nightmares. The demons that haunt him day in and day out.

When he comes home early from every single mission. Just to get back to where his heart is. 

His love is woven into your satin pillow cases, that hold his triumphs with students, his frustration from work, his regrets. 

His love is painted on walls of your apartment. The walls that could barely contain his grief. Wails loud enough to shift earth’s tectonic plates. That heard him scream in your arms. For months. All because he lost his first love at his own hands. 

His love glows under the moonlight. When he is buried deep inside you. Rambling about giving you a son first, then a daughter. Because he has to teach his boy to be strong. Strong enough to keep up with him. Strong enough to watch the world burn for his sister if it has to. 

Satoru Gojo is not soft, but he loves you softly. 

Another tear glides down his porcelain skin. Somewhat ashamed that he can’t swipe it way with his hands full of you, he flashes a lopsided smile. It makes his otherwise ethereal coalescence of features so boyish. Tangible. 

Human. 

Satoru presses a salty kiss against your lips. And it’s the sweetest he’s ever tasted. Pulling away briefly, to affirm you in a way that only he can.

“Infinity, baby?”

“Infinity, baby.”