bibemiiu

[bibemiiu]

[bibemiiu]

Scribble scribble (nerdkunaaaaaa)

[bibemiiu]

nightwing gojo !

[bibemiiu]

he's gonna act super cute

[bibemiiu]

PROTECT THE FAMILY.

[bibemiiu]

“Hold my hand” by Lady Gaga was made for Caleb <3333

[bibemiiu]

synopsis: you have a huge crush on suguru, right? so why is that your heart starts beating faster only when satoru appears. and why does he act like he knows it.

miyan’s notes: yay!! i like this. enjoy!!

part 1

you don’t even realize when it happens.

one day, you’re still sighing over suguru, watching the way he ties his hair back before training, admiring how effortlessly cool he is, and then—somewhere along the way—your focus starts shifting. not all at once, not in any dramatic way, but in little, subtle moments.

like when you enter a room, and instead of searching for suguru first, your eyes automatically flicker to messy white hair, scanning for that familiar, towering frame. or when something funny happens, and you catch yourself turning to tell satoru first, laughing before you even realize he’s already looking at you, grinning like he was waiting for your reaction.

you don’t think much of it at first. gojo has always been there, always loud, always impossible to ignore. he’s just—gojo. annoying, arrogant, a constant presence in your life whether you want him there or not.

but then, you stop talking about suguru as much. you don’t even notice at first, but shoko does.

“you used to bring him up every five seconds,” she says one day, exhaling smoke as she watches you from the corner of her eye. “now it’s just satoru this, satoru that. what happened to your lovesick little crush?”

you blink, caught off guard. what happened? you don’t know. but as you think about it, you realize suguru’s name doesn’t come up in your thoughts as often anymore. you stop trying so hard to be near suguru, but you do find yourself lingering when gojo’s around. you don’t hold your breath when suguru walks past you anymore, but you do when gojo leans in too close, his familiar, teasing grin a little softer than before.

you stop staring at suguru with admiration, but you do watch gojo when he’s not paying attention, when his guard is down and he’s just a boy with the world on his shoulders. when you walk into a room, your first instinct isn’t to find him. when you want to share something, it’s not his reaction you’re looking forward to.

instead, your days are filled with satoru—his dumb jokes, his stupid antics, the way he somehow always manages to drag you into whatever nonsense he’s up to. he annoys you, gets in your space, pokes at you until you snap, and then grins like it’s all part of some big, amusing game.

except—except when did it stop annoying you?

when did you start rolling your eyes but laughing instead of groaning? when did you start letting him pull you closer without shoving him away? when did your stomach start flipping when he leans in too close, when his fingers brush against yours absentmindedly, when he grins at you with something just a little softer in his expression? something you rejected even though you noticed

and then it happens. the realization slams into you out of nowhere—like walking straight into a glass door you didn’t see coming.

you’re sitting outside after training, stretched out on the grass, listening to satoru ramble about something or other. you’re not even really paying attention to what he’s saying, just watching him, the way his hands move animatedly when he talks, the way his lips quirk up at the edges, the way his sunglasses are slipping down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of bright blue beneath.

and then he turns to you, catching your stare, and grins. “what? do i have something on my face?”

your heart stumbles. and it hits you all at once.

oh.

oh no.

you panic. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you were supposed to like suguru. you were supposed to get flustered around him, supposed to daydream about him, supposed to be thinking about ways to impress him. but here you are, sitting next to satoru, feeling your heart pound over a simple smile.

you try to deny it at first. try to brush it off, tell yourself it’s just because you spend too much time together, because he’s always around, always teasing, always pulling you into his orbit whether you like it or not. that’s just how satoru is, no? a magnetic force, a pull no one can resist— except, they can and you don’t even try.

but then he tugs on your sleeve, pulling you closer as he whines, “you’re ignoring me again,” like he’s entitled to your attention, like it’s only natural that you look at him, and you don’t pull away. you let him hold onto you, let his fingers linger against the fabric of your uniform. let him mess up your collar and your hair and give him a halfhearted glare instead of cursing his bloodline.

and when he grins at you, pinkish lips glistening with your lip balm he likes to use, something warm curls in your chest.

you’re doomed.

the worst part? satoru notices.

he notices the way you don’t stumble over your words around suguru anymore. how you greet him with a smile that is more casual than anything else before your gaze moves to satoru and you beam because he is already looking at you. the way your gaze lingers on him now, worry seeping into you whenever he looks out of it. the way you get quiet whenever he gets a little too close, whenever his hand brushes yours, whenever his knee bumps into yours. whenever he tilts his head and watches you with that smirk like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head.

he doesn’t say anything at first. just keeps teasing you, keeps nudging into your space, keeps tugging on your sleeve whenever you start looking at anything that isn’t him. hopes that you’re smart enough to realise what is happening on your own, with a little help from him.

and then, on a sunny afternoon, when you’re watching him a little too closely, lips parted like you were about to say something and forgot—he leans in, way too close, and smirks.

“huh. looks like someone finally came to their senses.”

your breath catches in your throat.

you don’t move, don’t blink—don’t even breathe—because satoru is inches from your face, smirking like he’s just won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing.

your brain short-circuits. your heart is hammering, and you can’t tell if it’s from the sheer audacity of him getting this close, or from the slow, sinking realization that he might be right.

you have come to your senses. and it’s terrifying.

“wh-what are you talking about?” you stammer, trying—and failing—to lean away without looking like you’re running. but satoru follows, resting his chin in his palm, his elbow propped on his knee, his whole body angling toward you like he has all the time in the world to sit here and watch you squirm.

his smirk deepens. “oh, don’t play dumb now. it was kinda cute when you were still pretending, but—” he reaches out, flicking your forehead, grinning when you scowl and swat at his hand. “—i know you like me.”

your entire body jolts with panic. does he? you were barely figuring it out yourself, barely coming to terms with the idea that maybe—just maybe—your crush on suguru had been a distraction, something safe, something comfortable. that maybe—just maybe—what you actually felt, what had been sneaking up on you all this time, was something much more dangerous.

because he always felt so unreachable despite how close he always was. so it was much easier to ignore that there might just be something for him.

and if satoru knows that? if he sees it? then what the hell are you supposed to do?

“y-you’re delusional,” you mutter, turning away, hoping—praying—that if you don’t look at him, he’ll drop it.

he doesn’t. of course, he doesn’t.

“am i?” he hums, tilting his head like he’s considering it, like this is just some casual conversation and not your entire world tilting on its axis.

you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, crossing your arms over your chest, refusing to meet his eyes. but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you.

satoru clicks his tongue. “see, if you really didn’t like me, you’d be yelling at me by now. pushing me away. threatening to beat me up even though we both know that’s impossible.”

you glare at him. “i could try.”

his grin is blinding. “ooh, feisty. you do like me.”

“do not.”

“do too.”

“i don’t—”

and then his hand is on your wrist. gentle, loose—barely a touch at all, really—but it’s enough to stop you mid-sentence, to make your heart stutter so violently in your chest you’re sure he can hear it.

his fingers brush over the inside of your wrist, tracing slow, lazy circles, and you swear your entire body is on fire.

“you do.” he says again, but this time his voice is softer, lacking its usual teasing lilt.

you swallow. hard.

you should pull away. you should.

but you don’t.

because the truth is, the second he touched you, something inside you melted, something warm and terrifying curling low in your stomach. and the worst part is—you like it. you can’t even deny it.

you like the way he touches you without hesitation, like he belongs there, like you belong there. in his arms that feel endless and in his hold that feels the closest. you like the way he looks at you, sky blue eyes sharp and knowing, like he’s peeling back every excuse, every ounce of denial, and seeing you.

you like him.

oh, you’re so screwed.

“…so what if i do?” the words slip out before you can stop them, your voice quieter than you’d like, but satoru hears them anyway.

his smirk fades. for a moment, just a second, something flashes in his expression—something that makes your stomach flip, something real.

“then,” he murmurs, thumb pressing against your pulse, feeling it race under his touch, “i win.”

your breath shudders.

he’s too close. too warm, too confident, too much. you can smell his shampoo, feel the slight weight of his hand, the steady rhythm of his breathing. your body is screaming at you to do something, to move, to say something, to react.

so you do the only thing you can think of.

you flick his forehead back. hard.

“ow—!” satoru reels back, dramatically clutching his forehead like you’ve just dealt a fatal blow. “betrayal! and after i was so nice to you!”

“you deserved it.” your face is still burning, your heart still racing, but at least he’s not touching you anymore.

he pouts, rubbing the spot between his brows. “you’re just mad because i’m right.”

you are, but you’ll never admit it.

instead, you roll your eyes, shoving yourself to your feet, brushing imaginary dust off your uniform. “i’m leaving.”

“aww, don’t go, i was just starting to enjoy this.”

you ignore him, willing your legs to move, but then—

“wait.”

his voice is different this time. not playful, not teasing—something else, something more serious.

you freeze.

he pushes himself up, stretching his arms above his head before shaking them out, like he’s psyching himself up for something.

then he grins at you, tilting his head. “come on a date with me.”

your heart stops.

you turn to him slowly, carefully, because surely you misheard him. surely he didn’t just say what you think he said.

“…what?”

he raises an eyebrow. “a date. y’know, where two people hang out because they like each other? ring any bells?”

your mouth opens, then closes. then opens again. no words come out.

he waits, watching your expression with a smug little smirk, like he knew he was going to break you.

finally, you manage to find your voice. “you’re asking me out?”

“mhm.”

“because…?”

he sighs, dramatic as ever, running a hand through his hair. “because, my dear oblivious kouhai, i like you.”

your stomach twists.

“you… you do?”

“duh.” his tone is light, but there’s something underneath it, something steadier.

your head spins. “but—but you never—”

he shrugs. “figured i’d let you figure it out first. wouldn’t be fair if i did all the work, y’know?”

you stare at him.

gojo satoru likes you.

gojo satoru, the most annoying person alive, the strongest sorcerer of your generation, the boy who has been pulling you into his orbit from the second you met him—he likes you.

your hands are clammy. your face is on fire. your heart is a mess.

but then he reaches for your wrist again, tugging gently, looking down at you with that same insufferable, familiar grin.

“so? what do you say?”

and, somehow, impossibly, your lips curve into a smile.

“…okay.”

your lips barely part before satoru grins like he’s already won. like he knew what your answer was going to be, like he was just waiting for you to finally catch up.

“okay?” he echoes, stepping closer, still holding your wrist in his hand, his thumb brushing over your pulse.

you swallow hard, willing your heart to calm down—but it’s impossible when he’s standing so close, his entire presence swallowing up the space around you, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

“okay,” you repeat, firmer this time.

his grin softens—just a little, just enough that it makes your stomach flip in a completely different way. and then his grip on your wrist shifts, fingers lacing through yours instead, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

and maybe, you think, maybe it is.

“good,” he murmurs, voice dropping just slightly, eyes flickering over your face. his gaze is heavy, unreadable, and you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until he tilts his head and smirks. “so… do i get a kiss now, or do i have to wait until the actual date?”

your face burns. “excuse me?”

“what? i think i deserve one, after everything. y’know, for my patience.”

“you bullied me for months—”

“—lovingly—”

“—because you knew i liked suguru—”

“—past tense, nice—”

“—and now you want a kiss?”

“…yes?”

you gape at him, heat prickling the back of your neck. you should say no. you should shove him away, roll your eyes, something, because that’s how it always is with him.

but instead, you find yourself staring—at his lips, at the way they quirk up in amusement, at the way he’s still watching you so intently, like he wants you to kiss him just as badly as he wants to tease you about it.

you want to.

you really, really want to.

so before you can overthink it, before you can talk yourself out of it, you tug him forward, standing on your toes and pressing your lips against his.

satoru makes a small noise of surprise, but he recovers fast—his grip tightening around your hand, his free arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close as he kisses you back.

and it’s—

it’s dizzying.

his lips are warm, unfairly soft, and he kisses you like he knew this was going to happen, like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s making sure you know—that you feel—that this isn’t a joke to him. that he meant it.

he likes you.

his fingers curl against your back, pressing you against him, deepening the kiss just slightly, just enough that your knees go weak, just enough that you have to grab onto him to keep yourself steady, his uniform creasing between your fingers.

and when you finally pull away, breathless and dazed, he doesn’t let you go.

instead, he presses his forehead against yours, grinning so wide you can feel it, his fingers still tangled with yours.

“…yeah,” he breathes, voice warm and smug and so stupidly fond. “definitely worth the wait.”

you groan, shoving at his chest, but you don’t pull away—not really. you don’t want to.

temporary taglist: @booklova0-0 @sttm99 @linaaeatsfamilies @sylusonlylove @enyathedrakaina @paintedperidot @fawnfaer

[bibemiiu]

sincerely yours. (13)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses

notes. 5k wc. please note that the last few sy chapters will be shorter than usual. but on another note, thank you for the kind comforting words on my last post. i’m very grateful for all of you.

series masterlist -> episode fourteen

“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice breaking as you watched the faint tears that slipped from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.” 

He should’ve known why. He should’ve seen it coming—should’ve expected the next words that would come out of your mouth after announcing your pregnancy. 

Yet the admission, as firm as it sounded, still tore at your chest. And the silence that followed felt deafening. His gaze flickered to your stomach, then back to your face, searching for something—understanding, hope, or maybe a way to convince you otherwise. He also seemed to be struggling with the intense contradiction of his emotions, whether to celebrate your pregnancy or whether to be horrified by it. 

That was why Satoru took a shaky breath as he reached out a hand. “Y/N,” he began, stepping closer to you, “Don’t say that. We… We can figure this out. Together. Please.” 

Your whole body trembled at the irony of ending your own life soon as you announced the beginning of another. But at the moment, it felt right. That jumping into the vast space beyond you was the best choice—for him, for Sachiro, for the baby, and for yourself. 

But seeing the father of your children at the verge of breaking down was shaking your resolve. All the guilt, the shame. You felt it all at once. 

Satoru’s hands tightened around yours the moment he was able to reach you. And before you knew it, you were being pulled down, falling straight into him as he caught you perfectly in his arms. Like you were always meant to be there. “Y/N, please…” he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks, ocean-blue eyes swimming with desperation. “I got you. Don’t do this. Don’t give up on this baby. Don’t give up on us.”

“I can’t, Satoru,” you choked out, shaking your head. “I can’t bring a child into this mess. What kind of life could I possibly give them? What kind of life could we give them? I don’t even deserve to live.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N. Having you here with me right now is already the greatest blessing in my life,” he said quickly, embracing you even tighter as if afraid you’d slip further away. “I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be there every step of the way. I’ll… I’ll be a good father. I know I’ve made mistakes, Y/N. I’ve hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But this—this is something I can do right. Let me prove it to you.”

You turned your face away, sobbing quietly. No, Satoru. It’s too late. You had heard of these same promises before, and only a fool would let herself believe it twice. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Please, just look at me. I love you. I love this baby. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I don’t care how hard it gets—I’ll be here. I’ll stay. I’ll be the man you need me to be. And the man that I should’ve always been.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, never once allowing you to breathe or call for his name. You were stuck underwater, fighting the strong current of emotions. Time and time again, and only Satoru Gojou was able to make you feel like this. 

“I swear on everything, Y/N,” he whispered, “I’ll be better. I’ll fight for you, Sachi, and this baby every single day. Just… don’t make this decision now. Not like this.”

The vulnerability in his eyes and the sheer rawness of his plea made your heart ache. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you saw the Satoru you had once loved—the man who would have moved mountains for the woman he had vowed to cherish. The man who pulled everything he can just to bring happiness to the woman he adored. 

Your chest tightened as the weight of your decision pressed down on you, and a shiver ran through your body as if you could feel your baby’s heartbeat. “Satoru…” you whispered, your voice trembling with the fragile thread of your emotions. “I’m…”

Before you could finish, the flood of guilt, sorrow, and exhaustion eventually overtook you. And his glistening blue eyes were the last thing you saw before the world blurred and you surrendered to the darkness.

— —

Satoru stood just outside the hospital room, leaning against the cold, white wall with his face buried in his hands. His heart was pounding and his thoughts were nothing but a chaotic mess. He had almost lost you—again. This time, in a way he hadn’t even anticipated.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and when he looked up, it was your older sister, Gen, who was walking toward him, her face a mix of concern and restrained anger. She stopped in front of him, crossing her arms and clearly displeased with his presence. 

“She’s resting,” Gen informed him, her voice steady but sharp. “The doctor says she needs time. Physically, she’ll be fine, but mentally? I don’t know.”

Satoru nodded, his throat tightening. “I—I’m sorry, Gen. For everything.” His voice cracked, and he looked away, unable to meet her piercing gaze. “I know I’ve been the worst. Back then, now… I never meant to hurt her.”

“I don’t even know what to say to you,” she replied in a haste and brutally honest manner. “First, my nephew, and now, my sister? Both of them were hospitalized because of you. All you do is bring in a series of bad luck to our family. Have some shame.” 

He knew she was right, and he was ashamed. But despite the hurtful truth, he accepted it all. He was a martyr ready to take all the pain away, if it meant taking it from you and your children. “I know I messed up, Gen. And I don’t deserve another chance. But that doesn’t change the fact that I love her. That I will love her until the day I die.” His eyes pooled with genuine tears. “I just want to be here for her. She’s my life.”

Gen sighed, her arms falling to her sides. “Satoru, you say you love her. You say you care about her. But look where we are. She’s always been the one paying the price for your mistakes. Always getting the short end of the stick.” Her voice hardened, and her eyes narrowed. “And now? There’s a rumor about her because of you. Do you even know what that’s doing to her?”

He clenched his fists, his head hanging low. “I know. I saw it. I—I’m already drafting a statement. It’ll be released soon. I’ll clear her name, Gen. I’ll take full responsibility. I won’t let anyone drag her through the mud because of me.”

Gen studied him carefully, her expression softening slightly, though her voice remained firm. “Words are one thing, Satoru. Actions are another. She’s given up so much for you. Do you even realize how much of herself she’s lost?”

“I do,” he said, his shaken voice barely audible. “I see it every time I look at her. I see the woman I fell in love with slipping away, and it’s my fault. But I swear to you, Gen, I’ll fix this. I’ll do everything I can to keep her, to keep our family together. I’ll be the man she deserves, the father our kids deserve.”

Gen’s lips pressed into a thin line as she looked away, her gaze distant. “Love isn’t just words, Satoru. It’s not just showing up when things get hard. It’s being there even when things are mundane, even when she doesn’t need saving. It’s about choosing her, every single day. And you haven’t done that.”

Her words cut deep, but he took them all, letting them sink into his bones. He had been selfish, careless with the one person who mattered the most. And now, he was paying the price.

“But you’re still here.” Gen’s voice eventually softened, as if this situation couldn’t be saved anymore. “And she’s still here. I don’t know why, after everything, my sister still loves you… but she does. I wouldn’t want you for her, frankly. I’d rather she’d be single her entire life than be stuck with you. But I know her stubborn heart all too well. And if you really mean what you say, if you’re truly ready to step up and be the man she deserves, then prove it. You’d better mean that, Satoru. Because if you break her again… I don’t think there’ll be any pieces left to put back together.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the muffled hum of the hospital. And in sincerity, Satoru nodded, tears welling in his eyes. This wasn’t exactly Gen forgiving him, this was her choosing what makes her sister happy. “I love her, Gen. I’ve always loved her. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

——

A dull beeping sound echoed in your ears, steady and rhythmic, as the world around you slowly came back into focus. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled your nose, and the soft hum of distant voices murmured through the hospital walls. The fluorescent lights above were too bright, causing you to squint as you tried to take in your surroundings. White sheets, an IV drip, and the unmistakable cold of a hospital bed beneath your fingertips.

You were in the ER.

Memories of the day before hit you all at once—the weight of exhaustion, the way your body had given up on you mid-conversation, and Satoru’s voice calling your name just before everything faded to black.

A gentle warmth enveloped your hand. You turned your head slightly, heart skipping a beat when you saw Satoru sitting beside you. His snow-white hair was disheveled, his usually confident demeanor subdued. There were dark circles under his eyes suggesting how little he had rested.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. There was relief laced in his tone, but also something heavier. He reached out, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” You swallowed, your throat dry. “How’s my… baby?”

For someone who said she wanted to get rid of her unborn child, your concern put a relief on Satoru’s face. “Baby’s okay,” he admitted, his thumb absently tracing circles on your belly. “You passed out, and they brought you here to monitor you. But you’re okay now. The doctor said you were just exhausted. You’re being discharged soon.”

Your mind was sluggish, still struggling to process everything. But then, the most important thought struck you.

“Sachiro,” you breathed, fear clawing its way up your throat. One after another. “His surgery—”

Satoru squeezed your hand gently, stopping you before your panic could take hold. “It was a success.” His lips curled into a small, tired smile. “While you were resting, everything went well. The doctors said it was a textbook procedure—no complications. He’s stable, recovering in the suite room now.”

“H-He’s okay?” Your voice broke on the last word, and Satoru nodded.

“He’s okay.”

A choked sob left your lips as you covered your face with your hands, overwhelmed. After everything, after all the sleepless nights and the heart-wrenching fear of losing your first born, he had made it through. At his young age, having to suffer such a complicated heart disease was something he didn’t deserve, but truly, he was a strong kid. And for that, you were grateful. 

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, grounding you, anchoring you. “Y/N,” he murmured, his lips ghosting against your temple. “Sachi’s strong. He got it from his mommy.”

You let yourself melt into him for a moment, closing your eyes and breathing him in. You didn’t know what this meant for the both of you—if anything had changed, if anything ever could. But for now, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was that Sachiro was waiting for you.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your arms. “Do you wanna go see him?”

You met his gaze, eyes still shining with unshed tears, and nodded. “Yeah.”

——

Down the pristine white halls, past nurses and doctors bustling about their duties, your feet carried you with a singular purpose while Satoru walked beside you, his pace matching yours.

And then—there.

Room 721.

You hesitated only for a second before pushing the door open, breath catching the moment your eyes landed on Sachiro. Your poor son. Your poor little boy lay in the hospital bed, looking small and fragile against the white sheets. Tubes and wires were attached to him, aside from the steady beeping of the monitors that signaled his heart’s vitals. A ventilator was also there to help him breathe, and his tiny chest rising and falling in a rhythm was a sight that both reassured and shattered you at the same time.

“Sachi,” you whispered sweetly, stepping closer. “Mommy’s here, baby.”

Your fingers trembled as you brushed his hair back, careful not to disturb any of the medical equipment. He was still asleep, sedated for recovery, but his face was peaceful—far more peaceful than the nights you’d spent watching him struggle.

Behind you, Satoru stood motionless. His normally vibrant eyes were dulled with exhaustion, his face gaunt from two days without sleep. Yet, despite it all, he remained standing, his entire being focused on Sachiro.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Your family surrounded you, offering support, love, and quiet reassurances. Nurses came and went, checking on Sachiro’s vitals, updating you on his condition. The visiting hours brought waves of people—friends, colleagues, even some of Satoru’s acquaintances who had come to check on him.

But through it all, Satoru never moved.

While conversations hummed around him, while people embraced and whispered their worries, he remained by Sachiro’s bedside. His hand rested on his son’s small fingers, his thumb occasionally brushing against his skin.

He didn’t speak much. Didn’t react to the noise around him.

He just… watched.

Watched the slow rise and fall of his child’s chest. Watched the way the monitors flickered with steady readings. Watched the way his son fought to live.

And even as the hours stretched, as your family said their goodbyes, as the night deepened and visiting hours ended—Satoru remained.

His exhaustion was evident. The bags under his eyes had darkened, his shoulders heavy with weariness. But when a nurse suggested he get some rest, he merely shook his head.

“I’m not leaving him.”

And so, he stayed.

With red-rimmed eyes and a body begging for sleep, Satoru Gojou sat beside his son, never once looking away.

You could see the torment in his eyes as he looked at Sachiro, the helplessness of a father who could do nothing but watch. You just couldn’t bear the silence any longer, so you finally spoke. “Satoru… just go home.”

He froze at the sound of your voice, as if caught off guard, but quickly shook his head and wrapped your belly under a warm blanket. “Did I wake you up?”

“I can look after Sachi by myself,” you urged, disregarding his question. “You need to rest.”

But again, he refused. “No.”

“But—”

You opened your mouth to speak again, to reason with him, but before you could, Satoru’s voice cut through the air, breaking in a way you had never heard before. “Y/N, let me be a father to my kids… Please.” His voice cracked, the raw emotion spilling out as he looked at the ceiling with somber, tearful eyes. It was the heartbreak in his voice that made you realize that you were the only family Satoru had left. And it was the tremor in his hands that made you see through the trauma he had developed after he was led to believe for three years that his son had never existed. In a way, you felt responsible for the pain you had caused him, too. “Just please let me love you and our babies. Don’t take them away from me.”

For a moment, silence became your friend. Yet, the quiet that enveloped the room was more of a tender moment suspended in time as you let Satoru embrace you in his arms. You both remained there, connected by the warmth of his hand over yours, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath. He caressed your belly as if you were going to take his baby away—that if he closed his eyes, even for a second, he would wake up to see his unborn child gone. 

But then, a soft knock on the door shattered the stillness.. Satoru’s grip on your hand loosened as the nurse poked her head into the room with an apologetic expression on display.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Gojou,” she began, her voice quiet and gentle, “but you have a visitor.” Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly, but before he could ask, the nurse continued, “Her name is Ms. Akemi.”

At the mention of her name, he immediately sat up, his body tense as he instinctively prepared to stand. You felt the shift in his demeanor, the way his hand slipped from yours as he moved to the edge of the bed. You stayed still for a minute, processing the sudden change, and your heart sinking at the thought of yet another intrusion by her.

You took a deep breath as you began to pull away, already bracing yourself for what was to come, and for the inevitable exit he would make. Like always. Choosing another woman over you. Choosing another woman over his own child. Of course, that’s what he’s about to do, right? You started to gather the strength to let him go, to retreat back into your thoughts, until the nurse spoke again.

“Oh… Actually,” she said, her eyes flicking between you both, “Miss Akemi wants to see you, Ms. Y/N… not Mr. Gojou.”

——

Two things about this moment caught you off guard. First, Satoru’s sudden overprotectiveness—firmly insisting to the nurse that Akemi had no right to call for you again and that you shouldn’t be meeting her just to “talk.” And second, the fact that Akemi actually wanted to see you.

What was the catch?

What was her motive? 

You wondered if this was going to be another Sera moment. 

And you knew, even if your mind told you that you owed Akemi nothing, you were still curious about what she had to say. Would she demand Satoru’s time that you were taking from her? Or was she about to make a scene and call you a homewrecker? 

Strangely, of all the places, Akemi wanted to meet you at the hospital chapel. 

She was already there when you came, sitting at the last row amongst the empty pews, staring at the altar as if her brown eyes were glued to the massive cross in the center. In her solitude, you silently slipped into the opposite side of the pew, not exchanging any eye-contact until she noticed your presence. 

When she turned, she seemed startled to see you. “Y/N.”

You said nothing, only staring at the cross in front of you.

“I was just…” She trailed off, glancing toward the altar before looking back at you. “I was praying for Sachiro. I heard his surgery was a success.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, but your voice was steady. “It was.”

“I’m glad.” A small, genuine smile plastered over her lips. “I really am. He’s a strong boy… just like his mom.”

A scoff threatened to rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t here to fight. Not anymore. Not when you were far too grateful for Sachiro’s successful operation to still be holding grudges on others. But that didn’t mean you had to fake being happy next to Akemi. All you did was nod in appreciation. 

But Akemi hesitated, then spoke again about what seemed to be her main concern of going here. “Has Satoru been here? I mean… all this time?”

“Yes.” A pause. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her expression, but your rigid expression appeared to have intimidated her. “If you’re here to ask him to go home with you, then—”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You blinked. Of all the things you expected, an apology wasn’t one of them.

“For everything,” she continued. “For being with Satoru even when I knew who you were to him. For pretending I didn’t see the way he looked at you, the way he still loved you. I was selfish. I let my delusions get to me, thinking that he’s exactly who I needed in my life to feel whole again.” She then let out a bitter laugh, one that lacked amusement. “You don’t know this, but I used to envy you. Your life. Your place in his heart. The way you had people around you. The way he loved you… The way you have a beautiful son and an equally beautiful husband. I wanted that for myself. I thought if I tried hard enough, if I gave him everything, if I tried to be like you, maybe he’d love me the same way.” Her voice wavered. “But no matter how much time passed, it always felt like he was looking past me. Like he was imagining someone else by his side. And I knew. I always knew.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the edge of the pew. You weren’t expecting to hear all of those things from her. Not after everything that had happened. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Akemi admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. “But I needed to say this. Because I know you’re not happy that Satoru’s been visiting me, too. At least, until he ended things officially between us. And probably until he learned about your pregnancy… Is it true?”

Your breath hitched, but you remained still.

“The baby’s a blessing, Y/N.” She lifted her chin, meeting your eyes with quiet resignation. “It’s exactly what I had hoped for myself… but I’m sick. I’m critically ill. Stage three endometrial cancer, to be exact.”

For the first time, something shifted in you. Shock. Pity. Confusion. You ended up returning her gaze—her lachrymose brown eyes that seemed to envy your entire being.  

“H-He feels bad for me,” she continued, her voice softer now. “That’s why he’s been coming back and forth. He doesn’t love me—not the way I wanted—but he can’t turn away from someone who’s suffering. That’s who he is.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together, not knowing how to navigate a conversation with the sick friend who betrayed you.

“I don’t expect anything from him anymore. And I don’t expect anything from you, either.” Akemi’s lips curved into a sad smile. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m letting go. Of him. Of the past. Of everything.”

You held your breath back. 

“I hope, one day, you can forgive him. Maybe even me. I know I lost a good friendship because of my bad decisions.”

She turned towards you, reaching for your hand that she soon softly squeezed. In that millisecond, you caught a glimpse of Nanami standing by the door, seemingly waiting for Akemi to finish her last words with you. 

“Take care of him, Y/N. And take care of yourself.”

——

When you returned to the room, Satoru was pacing back and forth, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his jaw clenched in barely restrained nerves. The second he caught sight of you in the doorway, his shoulders sagged with relief, but his expression remained taut with worry.

“Y/N,” he exhaled, striding toward you in a rush. “What did she say? Was she rude to you? Did she—”

You didn’t let him finish.

Before he could spiral further, you grabbed him by the collar and silenced him with a firm kiss.

For a brief, stunned moment, he stiffened—his breath catching against your lips. Then, just as quickly, he melted into you, hands coming up to cradle your face as if you’d disappear if he let go. His lips moved over yours, not demanding, not desperate—just seeking, just holding.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes still half-lidded with dazed confusion.

“Stop overthinking,” you murmured, fingers gently brushing the nape of his neck.

Satoru swallowed hard, searching your face for answers. “Y/N…”

But a soft noise from the hospital bed cut the moment short. Both your heads snapped toward Sachiro, who was stirring beneath the sheets, and his tiny fingers twitching as his eyelids fluttered open.

Satoru let out a shaky laugh, a watery grin spreading across his face as he rushed to his son’s side. “Hey, Sachi,” he choked out. “You’re awake.”

You moved closer, blinking away the sudden sting in your eyes as Sachiro groggily turned to look at both of you. “My baby…”

“Mama…? Dada…?” His voice was weak, but the way he reached for both of you made your chest ache.

You took his small hand in yours, pressing it against your cheek as Satoru smoothed down his hair, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “We’re here, baby,” you whispered. “We’re right here. How are you feeling, my sunshine?”

The nurses came shortly after, and then his doctor also took a visit. According to him, Sachiro showed good signs of recovery and ordered the medical staff to remove the devices attached to your son one by one as his progress looked promising. Soon enough, with the doctor’s advice, Sachiro could even start his rehab to be able to resume his normal activities. Everything you were hearing were positive outcomes, nothing but good news. You couldn’t help but feel as if things were too good to be true, and wondered if there was anything substantially bigger that’d come and wreck you. 

The father of your child seemed to have noticed the moment you became silent, swallowed by the anxious thought of what was to come, and he came to wrap his arms around you, securing you in his embrace, and rubbing your belly from behind. 

You could see the nurses noticing your little display of affection and so you tried to push Satoru off, but he didn’t budge. He only held you tighter and buried his face into your shoulder. 

“Let me just recharge here for a bit,” he mumbled, as though you were the battery that was giving him energy. “Just let me hold you, please.” 

——

You hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room yet, and the only real chance to do so came the following night, when Sachiro’s nanny took over in the suite. She kept you updated on his condition, while you—following your doctor’s advice—chose to finally get some proper rest at home.

But knowing your family, they’d bombard you with questions about Satoru the moment you walked through the door. Maybe that’s why you agreed to his suggestion—to stay the night at the penthouse. The same home you once shared as husband and wife.

Was it a rash decision? An impulsive one? Maybe exhaustion had driven you here, standing under the warm stream of his shower as he waited outside. It was strange how comforting this place still felt. How familiar, yet mind-warping it was. This was the same home where he had slept with Akemi. How could you feel both at ease and deeply unsettled?

By the time you stepped out, you stood in front of the vanity mirror, drying your hair as your gaze fell to your barely noticeable bump. You weren’t showing just yet, and knew that there was still time to decide. Did you want this baby? Keeping it meant Satoru would be even more tied to you. Letting it go meant sparing it from a toxic environment and the possibility of inheriting your heart condition.

Lost in thought, you barely heard Satoru’s knock before he entered, carrying your old pajamas. Without a word, he helped you into them with quiet care, his touch gentle but respectfully distant. He guided you like a loving husband would to his pregnant wife, up until you were settled under the warm duvet of your old bed, where he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Is there anything you want for breakfast?” he asked, “Anything you’re craving? Lemon bars? PB&J? I can run to the grocery store now if you want.”

His reminder of your old pregnancy cravings squeezed at your heart. It took you back to the days where you were immensely, unselfishly in love with him. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I’d do anything for you and baby.” 

Maybe this was his way to consume you with guilt, knowing you still haven’t really decided if you wanted to keep the baby, yet here he was doing his everything just to show you how he wanted to care for his youngest. Would you be too cruel to ruin his fantasy?

“I’ll sleep in the guest room,” he murmured when he didn’t get any answer. “Call me if you need me.” 

“Wait.” You regretted your words the moment you opened your mouth. “Stay.” 

Because why? Just why did you ask him to stay? Why did you want him beside you? Why did you enjoy his warmth and his presence and his love? This was the same man who wrecked you to shreds, to pieces. How could you betray yourself and still trust him? 

You didn’t need the answer right now, all you needed was Satoru’s gentle gaze, his careful embrace, and the way he caressed your face as he joined you in bed. You could tell he wanted to try for a kiss, but decided not to cross any lines you weren’t comfortable with. 

“I’m dreaming, am I?” he asked, seemingly musing at the thought. 

You sighed. “I’d hope so.” 

“Y/N.” His voice was soft as he said your name. “I love you.” 

Closing your eyes, you replied, “Give me time.” 

[bibemiiu]

[bibemiiu]

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

[bibemiiu]

Rahhh I feel like a broken record saying this, but I just, ugh. Satoru is just such a yearner. Masks himself with smiles, pretending there’s nothing behind those pretty eyes. But really, he craves love. Craves it so deeply that the very act of being loved repulses him. It’s too much. He simply doesn't know what to do with it.

I just think Satoru in love is a mess, not in the way people expect. He’s not stammering over his words, not showing up at your door with hundreds of roses. He doesn’t have time for grand gestures like that.

He’s the type to stare at his phone longer than he should, the screen time stacking up in seconds. Just scrolling through your Instagram, pausing on that photo you always say you’re going to delete. He really wishes you wouldn’t because while you see imperfection, he sees someone who might as well have hung up the stars.

He’s the type to hover over his keyboard, those slender fingers typing and deleting the same message five times, wondering what would be too much. Would a heart emoji scare you off? Do you actually care about what he ate today?

Kicking his feet under the blankets, a few roll-arounds, when you text him “Goodnight” or “Good morning.” He bites down on a smile when you call first, just to tell him about a report or how your students are doing.

The Satoru with a crush: waking up earlier than necessary, neglecting the sleep his body begs for just to see if you’re online. If that typing bubble will pop up. If maybe - just maybe - you’re retyping too. If you crave him, even a fraction of the way he yearns for you.

He’s brushing his teeth at 7 a.m., frustrated, because you still haven’t texted. It’s only been two hours but it feels like forever. A foamy grin takes over his face when he sees the typing bubble. He checks, read receipts off. Just in case. He can't be caught looking desperate. Can't break down that wall just yet. Using his ego as a barrier to the real him.

Then the chime. Your message. Choking on toothpaste. Satoru has to pace his apartment like an idiot to calm down. A little circle around the coffee table, just to burn off the nerves. The soft patter of his giddy footsteps. Then he finally types back, “Good morning :)", though what he wants to say is “Did you sleep well?” or “Did you dream of me?”

And then, his smile falters. Do you think of him as Satoru, or as Gojo Satoru? Because there’s a difference. To mask the loneliness, swallowing the negative thoughts, he imagines you still curled up in bed, cheek smooshed into your pillow. Wonders how warm you’d be. If he were there, would you two stay wrapped up for an extra hour? Would you press a sleepy kiss to his cheek? Would you peck his face as many times as he would to yours?

When the silly little crush turns into something more - when it becomes a relationship.

Your mug sits next to his in the cabinet now. You brush your teeth together in the mornings. A playful nudge here and there. Giggling when he tries (and fails) to perfect an omelet. He makes character bentos for you on his day off, baby-blues crinkling with every smile.

And still - Satoru tries to play it cool. He wants to love you like a dog loves its favorite person, unconditionally, shamelessly, wholly. He wants to claim you as his and forget the rest of the world.

But he’s scared.

Scared that if he reaches too far, you won’t be there in the morning. That he’ll lose the luxury of placing his toothbrush next to yours. That there won’t be any more grocery trips where you both pause in the sweets aisle for far too long.

Scared you’ll pull away the second he starts reaching for miles instead of inches.

So he smiles. He jokes. Keeps the Gojo Satoru mask on. Because love is terrifying. It’s carving out your heart and handing it to someone, hoping they don’t drop it.

The first argument starts over something stupid. Most do. But it spirals. You don’t understand why he’s distant. Why he won’t let you all the way in. And he doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s terrified.

Because loving you means showing you the sharpest parts of himself. The ones buried behind smug grins and careless jokes. And he’s not sure you’ll still love him once you see them.

So he says something awful.

“Let’s break up.”

The words leave him in shards, clawing their way out of his throat. Words he doesn’t mean. A defense mechanism that works too well.

You freeze. He sees it in your eyes, shock, then hurt, then that dreadful look like you’re already pulling away.

And maybe… maybe that’s what he wants.

Because if he ends it now, if he’s the one who walks away, then he doesn’t have to know what it feels like to lose you for real. Doesn’t have to picture your body in a morgue because he couldn’t save you. Doesn’t have to imagine the world moving on without you in it.

It’s easier this way. That’s what he keeps telling himself.

Even as he stares at that imperfect photo of you still sitting on your Instagram while all the imperfect ones of you together are long gone. Scrubbed clean, no more cheeky smiles. No more subtle photos of you both on dates. As if pretending you never happened will make it hurt less. But it doesn’t. He’s left behind with nothing but the silence. And the tears that fall quietly onto the screen, threatening to like that photo from ages ago.

You forgot your toothbrush. But you left your house key.

His bed is still cold.

And god, he wishes you’d just send one more text.

[bibemiiu]

Thinking about babies again, what's new 😮‍💨

Gojo would be over the moon when you tell him you're pregnant (the little freak inside him would show everyone the little piss test and all) pressing excited kisses to your belly, looking up at you like you're the most incredible person in the world. He talks to the baby before they can even hear him, whispering jokes and telling stories. His favorite moments are when he can feel the little kicks, he gets a giddy smile everytime before pressing a kiss to a stretch mark or two.

But then he starts reading. About the risks. The complications. The fragile nature of it all. Suddenly, the strongest sorcerer alive feels powerless. His excitement turns into quiet anxiety, masked behind nervous jokes and late-night research.

The first time he holds them, his breath catches. They’re so small. So soft. So warm. Their tiny fingers curl instinctively around his, and he feels it, the shift in his entire being. A weight heavier than anything he’s ever carried, yet lighter than air.

Anxiety for the first time crawling over him. He’s scared. Terrified, even. What if he’s too rough? What if his touch, so used to battle, isn't meant for something so delicate? His hands tremble the first time you ask him to hold them on his own, a wobbly smile on his lips thats begging you to not hand the fragile creature over. But then, the baby lets out the tiniest yawn, their little face scrunching up before settling against his chest. And just like that, the fear melts away.

He learns. Slowly.

How to support their head, how to sway just right to stop the cries, how to tickle their tummy without worrying about breaking bones. He learns that they love the sound of his voice, giggling whenever he whispers nonsense. That their tiny grubby fingers grab at his blindfold, fascinated by the fabric, and that they light up whenever he enters the room.

Satoru is completely smitten. This small creature becoming the greatest gift. He kisses their chubby cheeks until they squeal, blows raspberries on their belly just to hear their laughter. Learns to appreciate all the slobber kisses that reach his cheeks. The teething phase where they bite on his jacket or his fingers. Carrying them everywhere, showing them off like they’re the most precious treasure in the world. Which, to him, they are. (Oh how he'd brag to Nanami if he managed to have a kid first).

When they fall asleep against his chest, soft breaths puffing against his collarbone, Satoru feels like his heart might just burst. They’re so tiny, so warm, so safe in his arms. He presses a few more kisses to the top of their fuzzy little head, inhaling that sweet, new-baby scent.

As he sits there, holding them close, he wonders - how bad can the twos and threes really be? Because right now, he’s excited for them. For the giggles and wobbly little steps, for the endless chatter, for their silly little thoughts and questions. He wants to share sweets, wants to sneak them treats behind your back with a conspiratorial wink. He wants to play at the park, wants to see them coming running with bugs, snails, and flowers in their hands as that tiny, delighted voice comes calling, "Daddy look!"

Gojo Satoru, the strongest, the untouchable, the undefeatable, completely, helplessly in love with his baby. Maybe being this strong has never felt as important as it does now, with this little life curled up against his heart.

[bibemiiu]

OH MY GOD GOJO AS PEAK BABYGIRL (AKA JUNGKOOK) (art by eldritcheaven)

[bibemiiu]

recovery (this is gojo lives au)

[bibemiiu]

➡️ Choose Sylus ➡️Choose Sukuna ➡️ Choose BOTH! ✨

[bibemiiu]

This is what I imagine when reading nerdjo fanfics

Art credits @nekozuu_ from instagram