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⤿ husband!nanami who has your legs pressed to your chest, them practically pinning your breasts down as he has your pussy out and vulnerable.
he's got his wedding band on, a symbol of devotion to you, as it gets drenched by your slick. holding down your legs with one hand, he's got his ring finger and middle finger fucking into you as you're a trembling mess.
you can't even remember how you got yourself in this position. just knowing that he came home from work and that he wanted you on the bed as soon as possible. and you're such a good spouse that you stripped nicely and waited for him. you had been so good that you don't know why you were receiving such torture.
fucking you with his mere digits and nothing more, letting your slick pool and create a wet spot in his work slacks. how he seems to be in awe with your pussy and its puffy folds as he'd occasionally pull out and rub at your labia in wonder before those two digits return back inside you and drilling into you.
your choked sobs are ignored. "ken... kento, please!"
"just a little while longer, love," he'd tell you for the nth time. "just wanna do a bit more exploring."
truth be told, he just liked teasing you and getting you all worked up. and just like the good spouse you are, you'll keen and whine, but ultimately nod your head before continuing to take it.
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This needs more attention hello it’s so good
DISCHARGED 。 。 。 リヴァイ
( 𝓢 ) ﹕ he finds himself unexpectedly falling for you
in which levi ackerman, accustomed to a life of duty and emotional detachment, starts to change when he's injured and cared for by a nurse. initially indifferent, he gradually grows fond of her quiet kindness and begins to desire more. as his walls break down, he struggles with the fear of revealing his inner scars, uncertain about this unexpected connection.
──── levi ackerman x nurse! r ╱ ⌕ ???2lovers, fluff ∿ w. unethical relationship (nurse x patient) , romantic relationship , unestablished relationship , mutual pinning , feminine terms used , levi having a crush , brief mention of despersion , not proofread wc. 8.6k (8,611) 。 。 inspired by this post by @levisrations the amount of times I rewrote this should be illegal
☆ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 resigned himself to a life devoid of love. His world was one of duty and survival, where attachments were liabilities and emotions were weaknesses. But life, unpredictable as always, decided to challenge that belief in the most unexpected way. When he was confined to a hospital bed, broken and weary, you entered his life—not as a savior, but as a nurse assigned to care for him.
At first, Levi regarded you with indifference. You were efficient, professional, and kind, but he kept his walls firmly in place. He convinced himself that you were just doing your job, and he was just another patient in your care. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, something began to change.
It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment that shifted his perspective. It was the quiet moments: the way you patiently listened to his curt remarks without taking offense, the soft smile you gave him when you thought he wasn’t looking, the way you treated him not as a soldier or a broken man but simply as Levi. Piece by piece, you slipped past his defenses, and he didn’t even realize it until it was too late.
For the first time in years, Levi found himself wanting something more. He looked forward to your presence in a way that unsettled him, and the thought of you not being there filled him with a strange, unfamiliar ache. But with that longing came fear—fear of letting you see the scars he had buried deep within. Not just the ones on his body, but the ones etched into his very soul.
Levi tried to suppress his feelings, convincing himself that you deserved better. Someone whole, someone unburdened by the weight of the past. He told himself he was protecting you, sparing you from the pain of being tethered to a man like him. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t deny the truth: you had become more than just a nurse to him.
Anyway, that plan didn’t work out. He wasn’t surprised; after all, things rarely went his way. Life had taught him that expecting anything more was a fool’s game. Still, he had hoped—foolishly, it seemed—that distancing himself from you would be enough to smother the feelings blooming in his chest. But it didn’t. If anything, his emotions only grew stronger with each passing day.
Hurray… What a cruel irony. Every time you walked into the room, every time your voice filled the air, it was like pouring gasoline on a fire he couldn’t extinguish. He wanted to hate it, to hate himself for feeling this way, but he couldn’t. You had become the one thing he couldn’t push away, no matter how hard he tried.
And it wasn’t just your kindness or your beauty that had undone him—it was the way you carried yourself, the way you looked at the world with such hope and grace. It was the way you treated him like he was something more than his scars, his past, or his title. You were so effortlessly… you. Bright, compassionate, full of life. You were everything he wasn’t—caring, gentle, and full of a light that seemed almost otherworldly. To him, you were the most gorgeous person he had ever met, not just in appearance but in spirit. And the more he dwelled on that, the more his hope diminished.
And he? He was just… him. A man burdened by too many failures, too many regrets, and too many scars to count. He felt like a shadow standing in the glow of your light. How could someone like you ever harbor love for someone like him? The thought was laughable, absurd even.
Levi clenched his fists, his jaw tightening at the ache blooming in his chest. This would hurt him, he was certain it would. There was no scenario where this ended with you looking at him the way he looked at you. No world where someone as extraordinary as you could ever fall for a man as broken as him.
And yet, despite the certainty of his own heartbreak, he couldn’t stop himself from caring. From wanting. From dreaming of the impossible, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You were a flame, and he was a moth doomed to burn. And somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away.
In the quiet of his heart, a small, fragile hope begins to grow. Perhaps, just perhaps, you are the one person who can show him that even the most shattered souls are capable of love.
He sighed deeply, the sound barely audible in the quiet of his room, as he lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. Once again, his mind was plagued with thoughts of you. This had been happening more frequently than he cared to admit, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, you always found your way into his thoughts.
Levi rubbed a hand over his face, as if the motion could wipe away the image of you that lingered in his mind. It was impossible, though. The memory of your kindness was seared into him. The way you spoke to him—not with pity, but with genuine care—was something he wasn’t used to. And that smile of yours… God, that smile. It was radiant, warm, and so effortlessly beautiful that it made his chest ache.
And your eyes. Those breathtaking eyes. They held a light he couldn’t quite describe, a spark that seemed to draw him in every time he was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse. He swore the world felt quieter when you looked at him, as if for that brief moment, nothing else existed but you. It was maddening how much power those fleeting glances had over him.
The more he thought about you, the deeper the ache in his chest grew. Because with every second spent imagining your laughter, your touch, your presence, he was also reminded of the harsh truth: someone like you could never feel the same way about someone like him. Levi wasn’t the type of man who inspired affection or love. He was stoic, scarred, and far too broken to be worthy of someone as extraordinary as you.
Levi closed his eyes, the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing down on him like a lead blanket. It was a cruel torment, to be so utterly captivated by you while knowing his chances were as slim as the stars aligning. Yet, no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you. You had become his solace and his torment all at once—a beautiful dream that he could never truly hold.
It's not like it's impossible for you to feel the same…it's just that it's unlikely.
As if on cue, the door creaked open slowly, the sound breaking the silence and drawing his attention. His eyes shifted toward the doorway, where he caught sight of you peeking inside, your hand resting lightly on the frame. And then, with a smile that could rival the sun, you stepped fully into the room, your presence instantly filling the once-empty space with warmth.
Well, speak of the angel. His breath hitched slightly, though he masked it with a quiet exhale. “Y/n…” The name slipped from his lips in a hushed whisper, barely audible, almost as if it wasn’t meant to be heard. It was a reflex, really—an involuntary reaction to the sight of you. He would never admit it out loud, but seeing you again felt like the highlight of his day.
No, it was the highlight of his day. The hours leading up to this moment had been nothing short of agonizing. He knew you were busy tending to other patients, carrying out your duties, being your usual diligent self, but that didn’t make it any easier. Every second without you had dragged on painfully, each minute feeling like an eternity. He had spent the entire day counting down the time, his gaze flickering to the clock more often than he’d care to admit.
And now you were here, standing in front of him, your eyes bright and full of that familiar kindness that always seemed to soften the edges of his otherwise harsh reality. He tried to keep his expression neutral, to maintain the stoic facade he always wore, but deep down, he felt something stir—a quiet relief, a sense of peace that only your presence seemed to bring.
If he were honest with himself, painfully, brutally honest, he’d admit that he wished you didn’t have to divide your attention among others. The selfish part of him (one he didn’t even know existed until you came along) wanted you all to himself. He wanted your care, your time, your smile to be for him and him alone. The thought was absurd, he knew that. But it lingered all the same, persistent and unshakable.
Still, Levi kept those thoughts buried, tucked away where they couldn’t betray him. Instead, he simply watched you, his gray eyes following your every movement as you approached him. The day had been long, but now that you were here, he could finally breathe a little easier—even if he’d never tell you just how much your presence meant to him.
His gaze instinctively roamed over you, taking in every detail as if committing you to memory. From the way your hair frames your face to the way you carried yourself, everything about you seemed to radiate a kind of effortless charm that left him momentarily breathless. Before he realized it, a faint smile crept onto his lips, one so small it was almost imperceptible. It was rare for him to smile at all, but with you, it felt… natural.
Of course, his fleeting expression went unnoticed. You were too busy looking at him with that warm, familiar gaze of yours, the one that seemed to reach straight into his chest and wrap around his heart. Your smile, soft yet dazzling, pulled him in further, like a tether he couldn’t escape—and didn’t want to.
His steel-gray eyes, usually so sharp and guarded, unconsciously softened as they locked onto you. The tension he carried in his shoulders eased, his hardened exterior melting away, if only for a moment. It wasn’t something he could control; it was simply the effect you had on him.
What a sight for sore eyes… The thought drifted through his mind unbidden, and for once, he didn’t try to push it away. It was true, after all. You were a breath of fresh air in the otherwise suffocating monotony of his days. Your presence was a balm, soothing the edges of his often jagged world. He realized that he could spend an eternity in your presence and still not grow tired of the sight.
“I got some good news,” you started excitedly as you made your way closer to his bed, the sound of your voice full of joy. You leaned even closer, your face now so near his that you could almost feel the warmth of his breath. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly, a subtle but telling reaction to your proximity.
“Go on,” Levi encouraged, his voice low and calm, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he awaited the news.
You beamed, unable to hold back your excitement. “You're getting discharged tomorrow! Isn't that great?”
At first, Levi’s expression softened into what seemed to be a small, content smile, but it faded almost instantly, replaced by a frown that tugged at his features. His gaze dropped to his lap, his fingers nervously twitching against the bedsheet. Great? How is this great? The word felt almost alien in his mind, a stark contrast to the wave of uncertainty that washed over him. Tomorrow, he would be free to leave the sterile walls of the hospital, but that meant he'd have to say goodbye. He wouldn’t be able to see you every day, to hear your voice or feel the warmth of your presence beside him.
The thought gnawed at him. Even though he was supposed to feel relief, there was a knot of unease tightening in his chest. “I… guess it’s good,” Levi muttered, his tone laced with a complexity that didn’t quite match the excitement you had shown.
You noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor. Your heart sank, but you quickly masked the concern on your face with a smile, trying to cheer him up. “Hey, you’re finally getting out of here. It’s something to be happy about, right?”
As much as Levi wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t want to leave just yet. Not until he found the courage to tell you how he truly felt, a confession he’d buried deep down for far too long. He’d been planning to speak up for ages, but the right moment never seemed to come. And now, here it was: he was being discharged tomorrow, and it felt like his world was about to shift in a way he wasn’t ready for. The truth was, he wasn’t ready to leave you behind, not without at least saying something.
In a panic, his mind scrambled for a reason, any reason, to delay his release. He didn’t care if it was silly or unreasonable. All he knew was that he couldn’t leave yet. Maybe he could convince them to keep him here for a little longer, maybe even longer than that. Anything to stall for time.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, his voice wavering for the first time in a long while. He paused, struggling to come up with the right words, but the silence only amplified the urgency in his mind. “I can’t walk with this…” His gaze fell heavily on his leg, his eyes momentarily losing focus as if the sight of it somehow made him feel even more trapped by his own hesitation. His leg was still wrapped in bandages, the healing process a reminder of the physical limitations that had left him stuck in the hospital for what felt like forever.
You stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you, before something inside you clicked. And then, it hit you: you knew exactly what he was trying to do. You couldn’t help it; a burst of laughter escaped your lips, light and carefree, as the absurdity of the moment struck you. The tension that had been building inside you melted away as you giggled, shaking your head in disbelief.
Levi’s eyes widened, a mix of confusion and annoyance flashing across his face. He hadn’t expected you to laugh, especially not at a time like this. “What?” he muttered, clearly not understanding why you were laughing at his predicament.
You managed to calm yourself down, though a few soft chuckles still slipped out. Wiping your eyes, you met his gaze again, your words carrying the remnants of your amusement. “Don’t worry about that,” you said, your voice light with affection, “we have a wheelchair for that.”
The realization hit him with a jolt, and he cursed inwardly. He had almost forgotten about the advances in Marley’s medical technology. In this world, they had more than just crutches or walkers—they had efficient, well-designed wheelchairs that would make his current condition nothing more than a slight inconvenience. That was his whole excuse, shattered in an instant.
Levi’s head dropped, and he exhaled a heavy sigh, trying to think of something else that could give him a little more time. But the truth was, there wasn’t much he could do to hold on any longer. He was trapped by his own thoughts, by the ticking clock and the weight of his unspoken feelings.
"I'll leave you to get some rest."
Your voice sliced through the haze of his thoughts like a soft breeze, stirring him from the swirling confusion in his mind. Levi’s heart skipped a beat at your words, his mouth opening slightly as if he had something important to say. He was about to call out to you, to ask you to stay just a little longer, to hold on to this fragile moment before you disappeared from his reach. But the words caught in his throat, and by the time he managed to look up, the door was already closing behind you. The soft click of it sealing shut was like the final nail in the coffin, the sound marking the moment when he knew he had missed his chance.
Damn it.
He let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping as he turned his head to rest against the pillow. His mind raced with all the things he should have said, all the things he had wanted to say, but now it was too late. He was left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret. Why had he hesitated? Why hadn’t he just told you?
As he closed his eyes, the thoughts continued to spiral through his mind like a never-ending storm. What would have happened if he had confessed how he truly felt? Would you have looked at him with surprise, maybe even a smile, and confessed that you felt the same way? Or would you have rejected him outright, laughed at the idea that someone like him could ever be worthy of your affection?
The thought stung, but as he considered it, Levi found himself dismissing it almost immediately. You were too kind, too understanding, to ever treat him that way. You wouldn’t laugh at him. You wouldn’t ridicule him. He couldn’t see you doing that. Yet still, doubt gnawed at him, eating away at the edges of his resolve. The uncertainty lingered in the air, the question unanswered, and it left a hollow feeling deep in his chest.
Levi tried to push the storm of thoughts away, as if somehow doing so would help him sleep. He shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to relax, to let go of the tension that had built up inside of him over the course of the day. But even as he breathed in, exhaling slowly, his mind refused to settle. The image of your smile, the sound of your laughter, and the unspoken words between you lingered in the quiet room.
What would have happened if he had taken the chance? Would everything be different now?
Before Levi knew it, the sun had risen, its golden rays filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow across the room. He turned his head, squinting as the light hit his eyes. The warmth of it was almost too much, so he closed his eyes tightly and turned away, burying his face into the cool pillow. The light of the new day seemed to mock him, reminding him that time was slipping away. He hadn't slept a wink all night, the relentless swirl of thoughts keeping him awake as they so often did. But this time, the thoughts were different. This time, they were filled with the image of you—the pretty nurse who had become far too important to him over the past few months.
Today was likely the last time he’d see you.
The realization hit him like a weight, and it sunk deep into his chest. He hadn’t thought it would be so hard to say goodbye, but now that it was happening, the thought was almost unbearable. How many more times could he frown today? How many more times could he allow himself to be disappointed by his own inability to act? Levi felt a dull ache form in his heart as he turned away from the sun's light. There was nothing he could do about it now. You’d be gone from his life soon enough, and he would be left with nothing but memories and regret.
The soft sound of the door opening broke him from his spiral, and he didn’t even bother to turn his head. It was strange, really—this was probably the first time in a long while that he didn’t want to see you. He had grown accustomed to your presence, to the way your voice would brighten the sterile, dull atmosphere of the hospital. But now? Now, he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, even if they were nothing but a tangle of regret and longing.
"Mr. Ackerman? Are you awake?"
Your voice was quiet, tentative, like you were trying not to disturb him, but it was impossible to ignore. Despite himself, he turned over in bed to face you, his eyes settling on your figure standing in the doorway. He let out a small, frustrated sigh, his gaze fixed on you. Might as well burn your image into his brain, because it seemed like that was the only way he’d be able to remember you after today.
Damn you. Damn you for worming your way so deeply into his life, making him feel things he never wanted to feel. For making him care. For making him think, even for a moment, that he could have something real.
Yet, even as the frustration swirled inside of him, Levi had to admit—he couldn't deny the truth. These past few months, with you by his side, had been strangely peaceful. The quiet moments spent together, the way you always seemed to understand what he needed without him ever having to say a word. Those months had given him a kind of comfort he didn’t know he could have, a sense of calm that had been sorely missing from his life for far too long.
But now, it is all about to end. And he hated it.
"We're nearly done," you said, your voice carrying the usual warmth, but to Levi, it felt like a distant echo. What a shame, he thought, the words almost tasting bitter on his tongue. You were finishing up, preparing him for the inevitable departure, and all he could do was watch you speak.
“Make sure to properly…” you continued, but his mind had already wandered. His eyes were fixed on your lips as you spoke, and despite himself, Levi couldn't help but wish that you’d kiss him. The thought of your lips against his, even just for a fleeting moment, consumed him, but he quickly pushed the longing away. It was pointless. You were leaving, and nothing could change that.
“...You understand?” You finished with a soft smile, your gaze expectant, waiting for his response.
“Of course.” The words slipped from his mouth, sharper than he intended, a little too cold, a little too distant. It didn’t matter, though. You didn’t seem to notice or, at least, didn’t seem to mind.
You gave a small nod before heading out of the room, leaving him to his thoughts. Levi barely registered the sound of your footsteps retreating, already lost in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. He didn’t have enough time to miss you, though. You were back before he knew it, a wheelchair and some papers in hand, the small routine task pulling him out of his stupor.
He didn’t say a word when it was time to sign the papers, nor when you helped him into the wheelchair, the movements were automatic. His mind was elsewhere, still tangled in the mess of words he never said and feelings he couldn’t express. You noticed his silence but chose not to say anything. You had always seen Levi as someone who didn’t like talking about his feelings. It wasn’t in his nature to share, to be open, and you knew better than to push him.
You signed the papers without hesitation, before gently pushing the wheelchair out of the room. “A man named ‘Onyankopon’ is waiting for you. He’ll take you home,” you said, your voice soft but firm.
Levi didn’t respond with anything more than a dismissive “Tch.” He didn’t want to deal with this, didn’t want to think about the fact that you were finally leaving him behind. But you didn’t press him, and you didn’t try to pull more out of him. You simply continued on, guiding him through the sterile halls, knowing this would be the last time you’d see him like this.
The journey felt too short to Levi. Soon, he found himself at the entrance of his new house in Marley, the place that now felt both unfamiliar and too familiar all at once. The wheelchair came to a stop, and for a moment, he just stared at the door, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was really here. He didn’t have the words for the swell of emotions rising in his chest, nor did he know how to face the world outside, the world that seemed so different from the one you had made him feel safe in, even if just for a little while.
And as the door of his new home loomed before him, Levi couldn’t shake the thought of you, how you had been so close, yet so far away.
Ever since leaving the hospital, Levi’s life felt dull and monotonous. The days bled into each other in a haze of silence, and the once driven and disciplined man seemed to have lost all will to move forward. He barely spoke to anyone, his communication limited to the barest essentials. Meals went untouched, the food left to spoil as he stared at it, unable to summon the energy or the motivation to eat. The bed had become his sanctuary and his prison, a place where he could escape, even if only momentarily, from the weight of his own thoughts.
He didn’t care to leave the confines of the room, his gaze fixed on the dull walls as if they could somehow provide the comfort he desperately sought. Even the mess around him, a stark contrast to the spotless surroundings he had once prided himself on, went unnoticed. Clothes were scattered around the room, some half-folded, others in crumpled piles. Dirty dishes sat abandoned on the side table. The place was a wreck, but Levi didn’t bat an eye at it. The clean freak who once took pride in maintaining order now found himself indifferent, the mess reflecting just how much this entire situation was weighing on him.
It was clear to anyone who knew him that this wasn’t just a temporary slump. This was something deeper, something more profound. His usual sharp edge, his resolve—everything that made Levi Ackerman the person he was—seemed to have faded. Instead, a hollow version of him lingered in the dim room, trapped in his own head.
Onyankopon, of course, had noticed the drastic change in Levi. The man was not one to ignore such things, and it had weighed heavily on his mind. He knew the raven-haired soldier well enough to see that something was off, and his concern only deepened with each passing day. The dark-skinned man had tried to engage Levi, tried to reach out, but the silence was always the same. He knocked on Levi’s door one more time, his fist gently tapping against the wood.
“Levi?” he called out, his voice soft but laced with concern. He waited for a response, but there was nothing—no movement, no sound. Just the heavy silence that seemed to have swallowed everything around the man.
Onyankopon let out a sigh, his worry growing. He stepped back and turned toward the living room, feeling the weight of the situation press down on him. He couldn’t just sit back and watch this happen. He had to do something. He thought for a moment, pondering what could be done to help the man who had once been so determined, so unyielding in his approach to everything.
And then, an idea hit him, almost like a flash of inspiration. He’d call you.
It wasn’t an easy decision. Onyankopon wasn’t sure how this would play out, but the more he thought about it, the clearer it became that you were the key to reaching Levi. Somehow, someway, he had come to understand that Levi must have liked you more than he let on. The day Levi was discharged from the hospital, the way he had stared at you with that look—an indescribable expression that conveyed longing, perhaps regret, and a silent plea. It had been a subtle thing, something most people might have missed, but Onyankopon had caught it. It wasn’t just that Levi was leaving the hospital; it was that he didn’t want to leave you.
He had never seen Levi like that before, and it troubled him. That quiet ache in the man's eyes, the yearning for something more, something he could no longer have. Maybe that was what was gnawing at him, pulling him into this abyss of isolation. Maybe that was what made him shut down completely.
Onyankopon couldn’t ignore it anymore. He needed to call you. If there was anyone who could help pull Levi out of this, it was you. And maybe, just maybe, you had a chance at healing the part of him that had been broken all along.
Onyankopon walked over to the phone with determination, his fingers hesitating only for a brief moment before he dialed your number. He had no time to waste; Levi needed help, and he knew you were the one person who might be able to reach him. The phone rang a few times before you picked up, your voice sounding a little surprised.
"Hello? How can I help you?"
Onyankopon took a deep breath, his voice serious as he spoke. "It’s about Levi. He’s not doing well—hasn’t been eating, barely talking, and he’s practically shut himself in. I’m worried about him, and I think you should come check on him. He might listen to you."
You paused for a moment, the concern clear in your voice as you processed his words. Levi. The usually strong and composed man who had, in the blink of an eye, become a shadow of his former self. It tugged at your heart to hear that he was struggling, but at the same time, you were cautious. You knew how grumpy and closed-off Levi could be, and you didn’t want to intrude on his personal space, especially when he had been so distant lately.
“I understand,” you replied carefully, a slight hesitation lingering in your tone. "But... are you sure he’ll be okay with me coming over? I don’t want to push him if he’s not ready to talk."
Onyankopon’s voice softened, understanding your apprehension. "I think it’s worth a try. He might need someone who knows him—someone who can get through to him. I think you’re that person."
You couldn’t deny the worry creeping up inside you, but there was something else too—a sense of duty. For the short time you’d known Levi, you had grown a soft spot for him. You had seen beyond his gruff exterior, glimpsing the man who, despite his stoic nature, had a quiet strength and a vulnerability that you found hard to ignore. You couldn’t let him continue like this, not if there was a chance you could help.
After a moment of silence, you made your decision. "Alright. I’ll come over."
The walk to his house was longer than you expected, each step carrying a mix of urgency and unease. The weight of the situation pressed on you with every passing minute. What would you find when you got there? Would he be angry? Would he shut you out completely? Or, perhaps, would he let you in, if only for a moment?
When you finally arrived at Levi’s house, you could see Onyankopon waiting outside, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. The moment he saw you, his face softened, and he let out a sigh of relief.
“You made it,” he said, his voice quiet but grateful. "I’m glad you’re here. He’s not in a good state… I just don’t know how much longer he can keep this up."
You nodded in understanding, your heart aching at the thought of Levi’s isolation. You could feel the tension in the air around his house—it was thick, almost oppressive. Steeling yourself, you followed Onyankopon inside, knowing that whatever happened next, you had to be there for him. You just hoped Levi would let you in.
“He’s in his room,” Onyankopon said quietly, his tone heavy with concern. He gave you a small, knowing nod before retreating, leaving you alone with the task of approaching Levi. You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as you made your way down the hallway. The weight of the situation lingered in the air like an invisible pressure, and with each step closer to his room, your heart began to beat a little faster. You didn’t know what you’d find on the other side of that door, but you hoped, somehow, that you could make a difference.
When you reached the door to his bedroom, you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You raised your hand and knocked softly, not wanting to startle him but hoping to get his attention.
“Mr. Ackerman?” You called out gently, your voice careful but filled with concern.
The silence that followed was deafening. You stood there for a moment, waiting for any kind of response, but there was nothing. Only the faint sound of bed sheets rustling from the other side of the door. It made your stomach tighten with uncertainty. Had he heard you? Was he ignoring you? Or had he simply chosen to stay in his isolation, shutting everyone out?
On the other side of the door, Levi was laying in bed, his mind lost in a haze of exhaustion and tangled thoughts. He hadn’t expected anyone to come today. After all, why would anyone want to visit him? He didn’t even want to deal with anyone, especially not now. The days had blurred together, each one indistinguishable from the last, and he had retreated even further into himself, away from the world that no longer seemed to make sense.
But then he heard your voice.
It was soft, tentative, but undeniably real. For a split second, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or if you were actually there. His mind raced as he lay still in his bed, his body frozen in place as he tried to process what he had just heard. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the fog in his head. It had been days since anyone had spoken to him with such gentle care, and hearing you call his name caught him off guard.
Slowly, Levi sat up in bed, his movements stiff and sluggish, as if the weight of his own thoughts was pulling him back down. His gaze flickered toward the door, and he stared at it for a long moment, unsure whether to open it, to acknowledge you, or to remain hidden within the safety of his room.
He wasn’t sure if you were really there. He wasn’t sure if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He had spent so much time in solitude that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone show concern for him, to have someone reach out.
But the rustling sound of your footsteps on the other side of the door, the softness in your voice when you said his name—it all felt too real to ignore. Still, he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to open up, to let someone in. But for some reason, he found himself wondering, just for a moment, what it would feel like if he did.
"Can I come in?" you asked gently, your voice filled with hope. The silence on the other side of the door seemed to stretch on, but after what felt like an eternity, Levi's voice broke through, low and quiet.
"Yeah... come in," he murmured, almost as if it took all his energy to give you that permission.
You slowly pushed the door open, stepping inside with careful steps, your heart heavy with concern. The moment you entered the room, your eyes widened at the sight before you. The usually meticulous and clean Levi had let his room fall into disarray. Clothes were strewn about, some piled up in corners, others half-removed from the hangers, as if he’d lost the will to care. The bed was unmade, with blankets thrown haphazardly across it. The room felt stifling, a reflection of the mess inside Levi's own mind.
“Oh dear…” you murmured, your voice soft, but the surprise was clear.
Levi, sitting on the edge of his bed, shifted his gaze away from you, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. His embarrassment was palpable.
"Sorry about the mess," he muttered, his voice weak and hoarse from the silence he had been surrounded by for days.
You shook your head, offering him a warm smile despite the mess. "It’s okay, we’ll take care of that." Your words were light and reassuring, meant to ease his mind, but you could see how much it affected him. Levi wasn’t used to letting things slide, not like this. It was clear that something deep inside him had been shaken, and as you looked around the room, you could feel the weight of it all pressing down on him.
In that moment, as you stood there, so gentle and understanding despite the chaos, Levi could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. The softness in your gaze, the way you didn’t judge him, made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t prepared for. It was almost like he was falling in love all over again, despite himself. He had never realized how much he had come to rely on your kindness until now.
You didn't let the silence drag on, your thoughts already drifting back to what Onyankopon had told you. He’d mentioned that Levi hadn’t had a proper meal in days—maybe even longer. Right now, he was a broken man, too tired to even care about basic things like eating.
“I’ll get you something to eat,” you said, your tone more resolute now, as if you had made it your mission to make sure he didn’t continue to suffer in silence.
Levi didn’t respond at first. He just nodded weakly, his exhaustion and emotional turmoil evident in the slight droop of his shoulders. A simple nod was all he could muster, but it was enough for you to understand that he needed help.
You left him alone in his room and made your way to the kitchen. The sound of the kettle whistling, the gentle stirring of ingredients, and the soft hum of the kitchen as you prepared his meal brought a sense of purpose back to you. You focused on the task at hand, but your mind kept drifting back to him—wondering if he’d be okay.
You made a small, simple meal—nothing too fancy, but hearty enough to give him some strength. Along with it, you brewed a pot of tea, knowing exactly how he liked it. Strong, just the right amount of bitterness, and a touch of honey.
With the meal and tea prepared, you walked back into his room, the soft clink of the tray in your hands filling the space as you approached him. Levi was sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze distant, but when you entered, he turned toward you, his eyes softening just slightly at the sight of the food and drink you brought him. You set the tray down on the small table next to his bed and handed him the tea first.
"Thank you," he muttered, his voice still quiet but carrying a note of gratitude that warmed your heart. It was the first time you had heard any emotion in his words for days.
"You're welcome," you replied, your smile small but sincere as you watched him take the tea from your hands.
Levi took a long sip, the warmth of the tea seeping into his tired body. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the familiar taste. “No one makes tea like you,” he said softly between sips. The words felt heavy with more than just appreciation.
You smiled at that, a chuckle escaping your lips. “Glad you missed me. I was lonely without your grumpiness.” Your words were light, teasing, but the undercurrent of affection was there, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you saw the faintest of smiles tug at the corners of Levi’s lips.
He took another sip of the tea, then picked at the food, eating in small bites, almost as if he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now. The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of him eating and the occasional sip of tea, but it was a peaceful silence. The tension that had once filled the room, the heaviness in his posture, seemed to ease just a little with each bite and each sip.
You stood nearby, watching him carefully as he finally ate the meal you prepared for him, his movements slow but deliberate. It was a small victory, but it felt significant.
As Levi slowly finished the meal you had prepared, you took the opportunity to begin tidying up his room. The dishes were simple enough to clean, but it gave you a moment to organize the rest of the room as well. During your time with him, you had come to understand just how much Levi appreciated a clean, organized space. It was something that had become second nature to him over the years, and yet, now, he seemed almost incapable of maintaining it on his own, weighed down by his emotions and exhaustion.
You moved silently through the room, picking up clothes that were left in disarray and making the bed with careful precision. All the while, you could feel Levi's gaze on you. His dark eyes followed your every movement, tracing your figure as you worked. Though he didn't say anything, the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. It was hard to ignore the warmth in his eyes, the unspoken gratitude there, even as he stayed quiet.
Once the room was cleaned and everything was in its place, you returned to his side, helping him sit up in bed, your hands gentle and steady as you supported him. “Do you want help bathing?” you asked softly, your voice tentative. You knew how fiercely independent Levi could be, and if it had been anyone else, he likely would have dismissed the offer immediately. But this time, there was something in his eyes, a silent longing for care that made him hesitate.
He didn’t trust his voice, the words stuck in his throat, so he simply nodded. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. He trusted you, even in this vulnerable moment, and it meant more to you than you could express.
You helped him stand up carefully, supporting him as you led him to the bathroom. As you set to work drawing a warm bath for him, Levi stood in the corner, peeling off his clothes slowly. There was an awkwardness to his movements, but you could tell he wasn’t trying to be distant. He just didn’t know how to navigate this situation, and you couldn’t blame him for that. He was used to being strong, self-sufficient, and here you were, taking care of him in ways he hadn't allowed anyone to before.
Once the tub was full, you adjusted the water’s temperature, testing it with your hand before turning to him. Levi slowly lowered himself in the water. You could see that he was already relaxed, his shoulders less tense as the warmth of the bath surrounded him. You grabbed a rag and soap, pausing for a moment to make sure everything was ready before beginning. "You don't mind, right? Tell me to stop if you feel uncomfortable," you reassured him, your voice soft and gentle, ensuring he knew he had control over the situation.
Levi closed his eyes, leaning back slightly against the edge of the tub as he sank into the warm water. He let out a small sigh of relief as the heat melted some of the tension in his muscles. For a moment, he just allowed himself to relax, and he realized that he didn’t feel uncomfortable with you at all. Embarrassed, yes—his pride as a soldier was a difficult thing to overcome—but uncomfortable? No. Not with you.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that washed over him as you moved closer, the soft lather of the soap in your hands. You had been taking care of him in so many ways already, and now this—washing him, helping him like this—was something he never would have imagined himself allowing anyone to do. But with you, it felt different. The embarrassment was there, lingering in the back of his mind, but it didn’t matter. He didn't want you to stop. He couldn’t bring himself to ask you to, even if a small part of him wished that he could keep his distance.
When you confirmed that he was fine, you began to wash him. Your touch was careful and thorough, the rag gentle as it scrubbed across his skin. You focused on his upper body, being mindful not to invade his personal space too much, but your touch was soothing nonetheless. You could feel the tension in his body start to melt away as you moved, your presence a quiet reassurance that made him feel safe. You made sure to clean every inch of his upper body, your movements slow and deliberate, giving him time to adjust to each step. You didn't rush, knowing that this act of care was something he wasn’t used to, and you wanted him to feel comfortable.
Once you had finished, you carefully patted him down with a soft towel, drying his skin as gently as you could. Then you wrapped the towel around him, securing it around his waist, and helped him out of the bath. His movements were slow, but with your support, he was steady. You led him back to his bedroom, where you sat him on the edge of his bed.
Levi didn’t speak as you helped him dress, but you could see the faint appreciation in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that he trusted you, that he was grateful. You dressed him carefully, making sure everything was in place, then moved to dry his hair. You ran a towel through his dark hair, the damp strands slipping between your fingers as you gently worked to remove the moisture.
When you finished, you stepped back and looked at him for a moment. He looked different, more like himself, and though there was still a sadness in his eyes, there was also a hint of something more. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was just the relief of being cared for after so long. Either way, it felt like a small step forward.
Levi looked more alive now, his posture a little straighter, his expression less burdened than when you first arrived. The peacefulness that seemed to have eluded him for days was finally settling into his features, and it brought a small sense of relief to you.
Levi finally looked up at you, his voice low but sincere. "Thank you," he said, his words carrying more weight than usual. It wasn’t just for the bath or the food—it was for everything you had done, for everything you had been for him in this moment of weakness. And despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. But his eyes spoke volumes, and you understood.
You stood by his side, your arms crossed in a playful but firm manner, watching him as he sat up in bed, his dark eyes now clearer, his fatigue somewhat lifted. “You should really take better care of yourself, Mr. Ackerman,” you chided him gently, a hint of concern still lingering in your voice. He needed to hear it—needed someone to remind him that he mattered, that his well-being mattered.
Levi simply sighed, tilting his head back against the pillow. "Levi," he corrected you, his tone almost too casual, though you could sense the irritation beneath the surface. He wasn't one for too much care or attention, preferring to handle things on his own.
“Huh?” You blinked, surprised at his sudden insistence.
“Tch… calling me Levi," he repeated with a quiet growl, though there was no true malice in his words, just a touch of annoyance. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be treated like some fragile thing, or perhaps it was his stubborn nature refusing to show too much vulnerability.
You couldn’t help but smile at his tone. It was the familiar, grumpy Levi you knew and had grown to care for. “Okay, Levi,” you said, your voice light and teasing as his name rolled off your tongue with an ease that felt more natural than it should have.
Levi’s eyes flickered slightly, an unspoken reaction at the way you said his name. It was something about the way it sounded when it came from your lips, like it held more weight, more warmth than anyone else’s. He felt a small flutter in his chest, but he quickly brushed it aside, annoyed at himself for letting something so insignificant affect him.
The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, a soft conversation flowing between you, easy and natural. Time seemed to slip by unnoticed as you talked, the rhythm of your words settling a peaceful air in the room. For the first time in a long time, Levi felt like he could breathe, like there was no urgency, no pressing battle to face—just the quiet presence of someone who cared for him.
But as the night wore on, you glanced at the clock, and your heart sank just a little. It was time to leave. You stood up slowly, gathering your things, and the moment you began moving toward the door, Levi’s gaze followed you, his expression softening. He didn’t want you to leave, and he wasn’t sure why. He wanted to spend more time with you, but he didn’t know how to ask for it.
You paused at the door, your hand resting on the knob, and before you could say anything, there was a brief, unexpected sensation—a light kiss pressed to his cheek. It was gentle, sweet, and fleeting, but it lingered in the air, making Levi’s heart skip a beat. His face immediately flushed, his breath catching in his throat. He turned his face away, hoping you wouldn’t notice the heat on his cheeks.
“Goodnight, Levi,” you said softly, your voice full of warmth. “I’ll check on you soon.” Your words were a promise, a reassurance that you would be there again.
Levi mumbled a quiet, almost embarrassed, “Goodnight,” his voice tinged with something he couldn’t quite name. He watched as you left the room, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that left him feeling a bit emptier than before.
But as he sat there, the smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips. It wasn’t big or dramatic, just a soft curve that made his eyes brighten, albeit slightly. A feeling lingered in his chest—something warm, something he hadn’t quite allowed himself to feel in a long time. He couldn’t wait for the next time.
© 𝗹𝗲𝘃𝟭𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.
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Be so fr I feel like walking out of the movie theater after watching a movie and wanting to change the world after reading this 🩷🩷
birds of a feather . ۫ ꣑ৎ .
{olympic figure skater!satoru gojo x olympic figure skater f!reader}
summary: you and satoru have known each other since childhood, two little birds navigating through life together as you shared one dream in common— to win gold at the olympics, you both a figure skating pair as you moved and performed and fell in love as the years went by, both balancing off a trembling tight rope and holding on to keep each other in place, a silent agreement that if you indulged and fell into the depths of the truth of what you were, you’d run the risk of losing your careers and each other, yours and satoru’s biggest fears. but you’re growing, and it’s getting harder to hold back… especially for satoru— that trembling tight rope on the verge of snapping in two.
warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, childhood best friends to lovers trope, cursing, DIABOLICAL ANGST BUT WITH HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!, mentions of death and loss, mentions of injury and blood, FLUUUFFF, satoru loves loves loves you, SMUUUTT, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, pussy eating, dom satoru, pussy drunk satoru, DIRTY TALK, pet names, figure skating, the olympics, true love <3
word count: 22.3k (I KNOW PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE—)
authors note: YYYOOOUUU GUUUYYSSS THIS ONE IS MY BABBBYYY AND IM CRYING NOW WRITING THIS LMFAOAOAO. i hope you all love it seriously i GLADLY worked day and night writing this and i’d do it all over again just to see y’all happy :) THANK YOU for your support it is UNREAL, and like always, I LOOVEEE YOUUU MWAAHHH <333
you first met satoru when you were six at the skating rink.
he was only a year older than you, both of your mothers coincidentally signing you up for the same youth ice skating lessons for beginners, meeting and chatting it up seeing as you and satoru were the youngest in age out of the rest of the parents there and their children, you both automatically put together by your coach and separated from the older kids to do warm ups.
and even though the age difference was only a year, satoru at first treated you like a little helpless tiny thing who needed assistance in everything— the cute pink ribbons in your hair doing you an injustice and further implementing the image of a little girl who had no clue of what was going on around her, thinking you were cutesy and he was determined to be your little knight in shining armor when the time came.
until he saw you skate.
what satoru didn’t know, was that you were a prodigy— related to one of the most famous ice skaters in olympic ice skating history, akira, as her talent was blessedly passed down to you through your fruitful system and the lucky processes of genetics— chosen as you barely even had to be taught, you catching everything right away by the coach without any sort of slip and fall… unlike satoru who was clumsily struggling to even glide through the ice without wobbling.
and little satoru was astonished by you and your talent, his first impression of you drastically changing by the end of the first lesson as he shakily slid across the ice over to where you were, patiently doing little turns on the ice while you waited for your mother to finish up talking to another lady (it was satoru’s mother).
“hi!” he had greeted you, a huge goofy smile on his face as you slowed down and looked at him, returning a shy smile of your own.
“hi.”
“i’m satoru!” he extended a hand, eyes shooting wide as he suddenly lost his balance and slipped forward, on the brink of face planting on the ice as his hands quickly flailed out and gripped the edge of the rink to save himself.
you giggled, tiny hands reaching and holding his arm steady as he tried to regain his balance.
“are you okay?” your shy voice asked, and he grinned through his wobbling.
“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”
but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.
“maybe we should sit on the bench?” you suggested sweetly. “so you don’t fall…”
“okay!”
you gripped him as hard as you could (which really wasn’t a lot for a six year old) and slowly moved with him on the ice, supporting him until you were both out of the rink and seated on the bleachers.
“what’s your name?” he chirped, his hands clutching on the edge of the bench as he leaned forward and looked at you kindly, legs swinging.
“y—y/n.”
“nice!” he cheesed, looking at you. “i saw you skate. you’re really good!”
“t—thank you.” you mumbled, shy and alarmed that a boy was talking to you.
“when did you start skating?”
you looked at him confusedly. “um.. today?”
his eyes bulged.
“hah?! today?!”
you jumped at his outburst, cheeks pink as you quickly nodded.
“wowww!…” he gushed with stars in his eyes. “that’s great! i saw you doing turns and things. i can barely move on the ice… it’s slippery.”
“well—” you peeked up at him shyly. “my—my aunt taught me some stuff… but not a lot.”
“you have someone in your family that skates?” he asked excitedly with huge blue eyes. “how cool! hopefully i can catch up to you and at least move…”
“that’s okay...” you smiled. “i know you will.”
“really?!” he gushed again before leaning back, nodding his head cutely. “if you think so, then i know so!”
and you giggled at him, your timid wall slowly crumbling down at his bubbly and kind personality as he was a chatterbox and talked to you about anything that had to do with olympic ice skating— him knowing so much about it and nearly screaming his head off and panicking when he found out that your aunt was none other than akira, now knowing exactly why you were so good at skating in the first place.
satoru looked up to you. so much so that it was comical— seeking your approval over the following years during lessons and not even listening to the damn coach himself as he listened more to you, wanting you to teach him how to do bunny hops or backward crossovers and giving a big fat attitude to anyone else who tried to coach him, whining and snoring away until you and your little bows skated over to him to teach him.
and because of that you spent a lot of time with satoru in and out of lessons, even more than you ever spent with your own friends at school as you clung to him at all times— him cheering and encouraging you on when you were shy in certain situations, and you teaching him everything you could about skating and bringing him little bags of strawberry gummy puffs since he had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever seen, you both cemented and stubbornly attached to the hip with neither wanting to let go.
and when your mother’s planned a little playdate at the local outdoor ice skating rink on a chilly december day— an enormous christmas tree sitting tall and glorious by the rink with twinkling star-shaped fairy lights and jingle bells surrounding the plaza, you and satoru spinning each other around and dancing and giggling over the murmur of classic christmas songs, they saw the potential… an idea sparking in their heads amongst their cooing and picture taking.
you and satoru were both originally put into the ice skating world to train and be independent professional skaters, olympic athletes to be more specific when the time came.
but that concept quickly changed the second you met.
now— you and satoru were an olympic ice skating pair, the subject materializing when your mother’s pulled you out from those simple ice skating lessons (you both already way past getting the basics down since your skill combined with you teaching satoru had you both surpassing the class) and paying for a professional couples figure skating coach to get you guys started now and early.
and the both of you were over the moon, especially satoru, as he absolutely adored you and begged his mother literally every fucking day if he could go over to your house or over to the ice skating rink with you to dance, you doing the same and the two of you crying and wailing on the floor whenever times wouldn’t work out and plans fell through, your mother’s having to give in and drag you to each other’s houses so you would both stop crying.
when akira found out you were officially figure skating, she nearly drove into the side of a building speeding over to your house from being out of the country for so long competing.
“is it true?!” she burst through the doors, your mother rolling her eyes after being startled half to death over her bizarre behavior. “is my little niece gonna be a figure skater like me?!”
you gasped excitedly upon seeing her, getting up from your spot on the rug and running over to akira’s open arms, leaving your coloring book and crayons behind as she swung you around.
“she started when she was six you know that…” your mother grumbled, folding various kitchen towels.
“but you just told me now that she’s not independent!” akira countered, setting you down and holding you out at arms length, eyes wide and eager. “—but partner figure skating! like me!”
she shook you. “where is he?! your partner! is he here? is he your age? is he nice?”
you perked up and looked over to the kitchen. “oh mommy! satoru should come and meet—”
“his name is satoru? oh my goodness how cuteeee!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. “is he handsome? do you like him? do you have a crush on him—”
your little cheeks blazed as your mother threw a kitchen towel at her.
“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”
“love has no limits.” akira wiggled a finger, and you giggled.
your mother called satoru’s place soon after, his mother excitedly conversing over the other line about how the akira was finally back in town and how satoru was gonna lose his mind once he saw her— you knowing he was the biggest fan and sometimes told you facts during lessons that you didn’t even know about your own aunt.
and when they finally did arrive, satoru was stiff— frozen in place with tight arms at his sides by the living room as his alarmed big blue eyes looked at akira with a sickly pale face, you snickering behind him.
“hi satoru!” akira greeted, leaning down with her hands on her knees to look at him at eye level. “it’s nice to meet you! y/n tells me you like my skating?”
“u—uhuh.” he responded dumbly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, knowing satoru would cry and whine about it later if he heard you.
“that’s great! i’m happy you skate too… and with my niece i should say!” she spoke kindly, ruffling his snowy colored hair up and standing upright, placing her hands on her hips and looking like a straight freaking superhero in satoru’s eyes. “you wanna compete in the olympics?”
“uh huh.”
a laughing breath hurled from your throat and your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, clasped hands still over your mouth and face going red from how hard you were trying to keep it in.
“that’s what i like to hear.” she smiled, a shiny impressive one as satoru still stood there in a stuck daze.
“work hard okay? the both of you. so you can catch up to me someday, yeah?”
your hands slowly fell from your mouth then, eyes filled with admiration and determination as you both eagerly nodded, looking at each other hopefully.
“you think—” satoru stammered, looking at akira. “you think we can… win three gold medals like you?”
“oh absolutely!” she shrugged. “i don’t doubt it at all.”
you and satoru gushed, glittering little eyes as you stared up cutely at akira, her giving you both a silly grin.
“how long have they been doing partner work?” she asked your mother suddenly, watching the way you and satoru chattered then excitedly about the actual possibility of competing for the olympics someday.
“mmm, i wanna say for about a year and a half? maybe two?” she looked over at satoru’s mother, who nodded in agreement. “they’re with a couple’s figure skating coach right now.”
akira hummed and shifted her gaze back down between the two of you.
“i’m training them from now on.”
both mothers froze, eyes wide as they stared at her.
you and satoru hadn’t even realized what she said, still caught up in your little bubble of the olympics and metals and competitions until your mother caught your attention.
“did you hear?”
you shook your head. “hear what!”
“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”
his jaw dropped and he nearly passed out on the floor, you quickly grabbing his shoulders as he reeled over.
“are— are you sure?” your mother continued, looking at her sister now. “aren’t you busy? i thought you were only here for the weekend.”
she waved her off. “i need a break from skating for a little… at least until the next olympics.”
akira turned to you then and smiled warmly. “and i wanna coach my little niece and her new buddy! if that’s okay?”
“yesyesyesyes!—”
both you and satoru bounced up and down and cheered, arms up as you tackled and hung off of akira like a jungle gym, her laughing and smiling big at your enthusiasm.
akira was the most important figure in your life, right next to satoru as she became a mother figure to the both of you as well as your mentor.
and training with her was not easy— your age not an excuse at all whatsoever in her eyes to not learn proper figure skating moves and technique, saying it would only serve you right in the end if you started adapting your bodies to it now rather than later.
and like most things, akira was right. but even though practices were grueling and tough to the point where you had to drag satoru across the ice to get up, she always tried to make them fun in the end— cracking jokes and teaching you guys silly little tricks that you could do with each other on the ice that she figured out over her years of skating with her partner, taking you both out for ice cream frequently after and telling you of her travels competing around the world, the people she’d met, and the titles she’d won— all things that were you and satoru’s ultimate dream as you listened eagerly.
by the time you were twelve and satoru was thirteen, it was obvious you guys were meant to be olympic athletes together.
“you need to pick your leg a little further up on the spin, toru.”
he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”
“says me.” you poked his cheek. “and i’m pretty sure aki told you before she left too.”
“yes ma’am!” he nodded, gliding a bit further away from you on the ice before picking his momentum up and reaching you, him bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your torso as you both went into fast spins, one leg extended for the both of you as your arms gripped over his shoulders— practicing the routine akira had given you for your upcoming competition.
“yeah like that!” you smiled, spins gradually slowing down and satoru coming back up from his bend until you both stood still on the ice. “good job toru!”
he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”
“mhm!” you responded, turning and skating away to the edge of the rink to hide the blush that was rising in your cheeks.
“what?!” he whined. “where are you going? do i stink?”
“no!” you laughed, shaking your head. “just the usual sweat and B.O.”
“aw no!” he quickly skated to the edge of the rink and out before flying for his duffel bag. “i hate being a man i hate puberty this is ridiculous—”
“i’m kidding im kidding!” you called from across the ice, cackling when he stopped and whipped his head over, glaring at you. “you’re fine toru— not stinky.”
“well you’re stinky for putting me in distress how about that?” he huffed, an eventual smile playing at his lips as he put down his duffel bag and went inside the rink again.
akira was currently on her way to compete at the olympics for her fourth gold medal in partner figure skating, you and satoru having no doubt in your minds that she was going to absolutely clear everyone else there and get it, as she’s never gotten silver or bronze or anything lower than that.
“when do we fly to see aki again?” satoru called from across the ice, gliding to and fro in figure eights. “don’t say tomorrow morning because i haven’t started packing yet heh… oops.”
you giggled. “it is tomorrow morning, dummy.”
“no!” he stopped and shoved his hands in his hair. “i haven’t even started planning my outfits! oh i was gonna take so many pictures what am i supposed to do now—”
you laughed loudly and skated back over to him, hands wrung behind your back as you looked at him cheekily. “you’re silly toru. outfits for what? literally just show up.”
“it’s not everyday we leave the country y/n!” he whined. “i wanted to sport my best and look cool, dang it.”
you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted your hand, patting his head.
“i’ll show up in pajamas and you show up in yours, and we’ll call it a day. hm?”
he grinned.
“matching? or seperate? and what color? plaid?”
“toru!”
he laughed and skated past you, nudging your shoulder with his in the process. “i’m just messing with youuu, matching obviously!”
satoru came back around, reached up and straightened the ribbons in your hair, little white bows sitting pretty as a blush rose to his cheeks when he was done.
“wanna run it three more times and call it?” he suggested. “i wanna make sure i get what you told me down before we go.”
you smiled and quickly nodded, taking satoru’s extended hand and skating together to first position.
watching akira win gold in person for the first time in your life was an experience you’ll never forget.
and she did it fucking beautifully.
with every precise move, with every articulate angle you and satoru screamed and yelled like crazy people in front of the rink while waving around your countries tiny flags, cheering with fat tears rolling down your faces when she successfully landed each time, holding each other so tight with mushed up cheeks throughout her routine with her partner and still in anxiousness when the time came for revealing final scores.
no one could skate like her. absolutely no one as she speedily glided across the ice and spun, prepped herself for the hardest most impressive turns you had ever seen in your life, and performed a quadruple axel rotation in the air all on her own— things that have always earned her the highest scores for three successive olympic years.
and four now— because when akira and her partner stepped up on that podium, you and satoru had to basically be yanked back by your mothers with the way you both tried to jump over the edge of the rink to her, her standing there like a beacon of light on the first place podium, a gold medal hung rightfully around her neck with flowers in her arms as she smiled so so big and happily, her eyes not once leaving you and satoru.
eventually when the ceremony was over, amongst all of the buzz and the crowd roaring and picture taking— akira quickly skated over to the two of you and leaned on the edge of the rink.
“akiiii!” you both wailed and flung your arms around her neck, her giggling and hugging you both back as best as she possibly could despite the mass amount of bouquets in her hands.
“did i do okay?!” she yelled over the noise.
you both pulled back and looked at her like she was insane.
“did you do okay?!” you gawked.
“aki— you won a fucking gold medal!” satoru yelled.
“HAH!” she laughed loudly. “don’t say that word in front of your mommy satoru she’ll chop my head off and kill me!”
you both giggled uncontrollably.
akira leaned her head in then and you and satoru followed through, all three foreheads resting against each others.
“listen to me for a second.“ she started. “you guys are birds of a feather, okay? you need to stick together and fly together as one.”
she let you both go and dropped the bouquets she was holding on the icy floor before placing a hand on yours and satoru’s outer cheeks, bringing you in. “don’t fight. don’t separate. don’t leave each other. you need to keep each other and what you have safe.”
you both quickly nodded, tears funnily gathering at the corners of your eyes at what she was saying, and she smiled.
“yes partner figure skating is about chemistry and technicality, but it’s about love… and sometimes just that. without genuine love, nothing will click.” she let your cheeks go and grabbed her shiny gold medal, holding it up. “this will be yours. i promise you.”
akira put down her medal, wiping both yours and satoru’s wet cheeks. “birds of a feather. stick together. keep each other safe. do you understand?”
the two of you sniffled and nodded.
“and i need to stop cussing in front of you guys during practices, don’t i?!” she smiled warmly, and you and satoru shook your heads frantically.
“no keep doing it!—”
“it’s funny please!—”
ever since akira told you that, it became you and satoru’s thing.
before and after every competition, with every hello and every goodbye at the beginning and end of the day, throughout the hours randomly whenever you both felt like it, you’d lock pinkies and reiterate ‘birds of a feather’ before kissing your thumbs and locking your promise in place— another one of the many other ways you’d show that you loved each other.
but whether it was platonically or romantically remained unknown until you both hit high school.
perhaps it had always been romantically… that you weren’t exactly sure of. but the way you and satoru had been treating each other since you were literally the age of six, made the technicalities of what it was blurry and a little confusing— for you couldn’t even remember when it was that you started loving satoru.
maybe it was that very first day when he skated over to you, wobbly and clumsy with a cheesy smile.
and as if it wasn’t already confusing enough of what the two of you were, the way you acted made it ten times worse.
but you’d been that way since forever— embracing each other a little longer than you should, innocently kissing each others cheeks and heads and hands, calling each other pet names and being each other’s dates to every single school dance—
but it was all harmless. not a single bad thought behind it and doing it like a reflex.
it was like you both were line balancing across the thinnest tight rope known to mankind— flimsy and unsteady, always on the verge of toppling over and falling completely into the darkening depths of the truth of what you were, but catching each other just before you did to regain balance back on the rope.
neither of you said it, but if you and satoru ever dared to be anything more than friends, and if something were to happen where you had to break up— you’d lose your first love, your best friend, and your entire career all in one.
the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.
and you didn’t want to break your promise… so you acted blind to it.
by the time you were seventeen and satoru was eighteen, akira started training you for the international skating union competition to earn a spot for the olympics.
well— she actually started when you were about fourteen, but as the years progressed, her coaching and critiques got increasingly more difficult and nitpicky as well as the moves she taught you, wanting you both to build endurance to it and perfect it so that by the time you reached the age requirement for the olympics— it would be easier to train for it and be formidable competitors against the other pairs.
you and satoru wanted to be olympians more than anything else in your lives, and akira knew just how important this was for the both of you— making it her absolute mission to help accomplish solely that as she saw herself through the two of you.
your dreams were just like hers, and she respected and nurtured the fact with everything that she had.
“up! aaand up! and take her— throw— land oh shit—”
just as you had landed a semi complex throw jump, you lost balance and landed right on your ass, sliding across the ice on your side.
it was rare when you fell, and you absolutely despised when you did.
“fuck!” satoru quickly skated over to you and knelt down. “are you okay?!”
“why can’t i land that man?” you whined, covering your eyes.
akira smoothly traveled over to you both.
“it’s okay! we just learned it today sweets like— right now… you’ll have it down in the next five minutes.” satoru smiled softly, carefully helping you up on your skates and checking you over.
“don’t overly punish yourself, y/n.” akira reached and pinched your cheek. “i love that you’ve always been so serious about your technique, but you have to leave room for error my love or else you’ll choke yourself out.”
satoru ran a soothing hand along your back and you smiled cutely up at him, his heart jittering so much from it that he had to quickly retract his arm.
you nodded, always taking satoru’s and akira’s words seriously like inscriptions to a stone wall. “okay!”
he grinned and kissed the side of your head before taking your hand and leading you to first position like always.
akira smirked.
“are you guys together yet!” she blurted from across the ice and you both choked as she skated over.
“are we— are we—” you stammered.
“what?” she breathed out, placing her hands on her hips. “are you at least in love?”
satoru’s blue eyes bulged open with a furious pink tint to both of your cheeks.
“aki!” you whined, embarrassed. “stop it—”
“have you guys at least gone on one date?”
satoru pouted. “no.”
“i’m—” you played with your fingers. “i’m going on one today—”
“you’re what?!” he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed.
“yeah…” you looked at him. “i’ve never gone on one and some guy at school asked me so i— i just thought—”
you thought it’d do you some good, since the one you wanted you couldn’t really have.
“are you actually..?” satoru trailed off, an unfamiliar strike of something in his chest making him a little upset.
but he knew damn well what it was.
“but—” akira stared at you wide eyed, pointing at satoru. “but it’s— it’s supposed to be—”
“aki!” satoru quickly grabbed her arm and lowered it, eyes snapping to you next. “is it that one guy you told me about? from your english class?”
“uh huh.” you fidgeted. “he asked me again and i felt bad saying no so i— said yes…”
satoru swallowed, nodding.
“oh you big dummies!” akira groaned. “we’ll talk about this later or else i’m gonna go into fucking cardiac arrest from frustration—”
she skated off to the edge of the rink and out, leaning on it from the outside with her head dramatically hung.
you both got into starting position, but you faltered when you noticed satoru was oddly quiet and stiff.
“…toru?”
he blinked down at you. “huh?”
“you okay?”
“oh!— yeah.” he smiled weakly. “i’m fine baby.”
“you sure—”
“what time is your date?”
you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. “it’s a bit after this... i told him to just give me time to shower and get ready.”
“if he can’t accept you stinky then he’s not for you.” he shook his head in distaste. “he’s already failing in my eyes sweets absolutely flunking. maybe you should cancel it? yeah i say cancel it—”
you laughed, heart in your throat as your eyes gleamed up at him. “i can barely accept you stinky so i wouldn’t blame him—”
“hey!” he placed an exaggerated hand on his chest. “it’s not my fault i literally put my heart and soul out on the ice just for you to skate all over me—”
you gasped offendedly. “i don’t skate all over you—”
“do too!”
“do not!”
“do to—”
“you guys!” akira called. “you know i love it when you guys love on each other it makes me so happy and envision your wedding but right now we have to grind!”
you both froze up and snapped your heads in her direction with red faces, whining.
“aakkiii!—”
you practiced what you had of the routine a couple of more times, a few new moves and jumps added after each run until akira called it a day upon noticing you and satoru were practically sweating your asses off and messing up several times out of exhaustion.
“good job today you guys!” she smiled, patting you both on your shoulders. “i feel like the next time we meet we’ll have the choreography down... from there we just need to perfect it and you should be good for the next competish, okay?”
you both nodded and thanked her, sweet smiles on your faces as she reached up and pinched a side of both your cheeks.
“my little babies.” she cooed. “oh how you’ve grown! you guys were so little when we started now satoru is huge man jesus christ—”
she lifted her hand and reached up to measure satoru’s height from his forehead, her passing it over the top of her head and eyes widening at the huge gap.
he laughed and puffed up his chest. “i got big and strong too aki see?” he flexed an arm. “see? eh?”
“that you did!” she laughed brightly, ruffling up his hair. “the strongest.”
you giggled and skated over to the edge of the rink to pack up, internally panicking a little that you guys went overtime and it was almost time for your date.
“satoru..” akira whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren’t listening. “what’s going on? you still haven’t asked her out? i thought you said you were gonna do it.”
“no..” he mumbled. “but we can’t. and she knows that too so— so what am i supposed to do—”
she gawked. “do you not see what’s happening?! she’s gonna go on a date with someone else! off with this stupid fear you guys have already seriously.”
“we caan’tt aki.” he pushed sadly. “it’s too risky.”
“but it’s not though!” she threw her arms out. “you guys have known each other since practically birth i feel like if it wasn’t meant to be you would’ve separated by now!”
satoru gnawed at his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained to the way your bows moved in your hair as you swung your duffel bag over yourself, smiling softly once he realized you had kindly packed his things for him too as you sat on the bench and waited for him to take you home.
akira sighed.
“it’s not my place to tell you guys what to do… but love has no limits. you know that.”
he nodded, smiling weakly at her as they skated out of the rink and prepared to lock up, akira hugging you both goodbye with a family kiss to your cheeks and you separating ways with her for the day, but not before her reminding you guys of practice tomorrow and that she loved you over her shoulder.
satoru was dreading you going on your date as he drove— the both of you normally talking about random things like always but his mind unable to stray from the fact that you were actually giving some random dingbat a chance.
it was rare when either of you would talk to or date other people, never even as your heads have always been so focused on figure skating and competitions… but also on each other— taking care and loving one another that you never needed anybody else since you were everything to satoru and satoru to you, and you were both confident that absolutely no one could ever step up to that level.
so why were you going on a date?
but he shouldn’t be like this. he knew that. there was a silent agreement between the two of you to never fall off that thin tight rope and keep each other balanced. and you were allowed to see and date whoever you wanted— something that he probably should do as well to try and get over the fact that you’d never really be his.
satoru pulled up to your driveway and shifted his gear into park.
“thank you toru!” you smiled sweetly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “can i— can i come in with you? and hang while you get ready?”
you quirked a brow. “i thought that’s what we were already doing silly.”
“okay well invite me woman!” you both got out of the car and walked up the steps to your front door. “you can’t just assume. what if i was busy? what if i also had a date? hm?”
you gave him a sly grin as you twisted in your keys to unlock the door. “do you?”
“… no.”
you giggled and pushed open the door, the both of you immediately clasping your hands over your mouths to keep your laughs in at the sight of your mother sprawled out on the couch dead asleep with drool coming out of her mouth, the tv softly playing in the background as you quietly shut the door, went up the stairs and into your room.
satoru sat on your desk chair lazily while you quickly hopped in the shower to get ready for your stupid date, staring at the framed photographs on your nightstand that all consisted of you and him over the years, smiling softly at his favorite— a picture of the two of you when you were babies, cheek to cheek with huge smiles at the park as you held ice cream cones in each of your hands, satoru more than sure akira was the one who took that picture.
the sound of your door clicking shut pulled him from his thoughts as you walked in, drying your pretty hair with your little fuzzy towel and throwing it in the hamper once you were done.
“oh! i was gonna show you! i got these ribbons the other day—” you got down on your knees and looked under your bed, sticking a hand in and pulling out a white box as you picked it up and shuffled with your knees closer to satoru— sitting back on your ankles.
“—i was running out of ribbon so i got these!” you held up the box and satoru took it, examining the various pastel colors with warm eyes. “some of them are polka dotted and i thought that was cute.”
“it is sweets!” he agreed.
satoru loved the ribbons in your hair, and you’d always wear them without fail because you knew just how much he did.
“i wanna start wearing bows too.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.
“are you saying you wanna steal my brand toru?” you picked up a blue roll of ribbon from the box, a color that matched satoru’s eyes. “thought you were an honest man?”
he gasped. “i am an honest man! is it not obvious enough when i help you with your math homework? when i sacrifice my dignity and text you answers during your tests?”
you giggled and unrolled a strand of ribbon. “not when you eat all of my sweets that you actively dig through my room for—”
“but they’re always the strawberry gummy puffs!” he whined. “they make me a slut.”
you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing your little scissors and snipping off a piece of blue ribbon from the roll, stepping in front of satoru and leaning.
“watcha doing?” he asked, placing his hands on your waist.
“i’m putting a little bow in your hair before i leave!”
he hummed. “don’t think it’ll look as good on me as they do on you.”
you blushed, taking little pieces of white hair from the top of his head and wrapping the ribbon around, tying it the same way you’ve been doing for yourself since you were the age of nine.
you took a step back once you were finished and laughed. “you look cute toru!”
he raised a silly brow. “do i still look big and strong?”
“big and strong and pretty—”
“please don’t go.”
you stilled.
“what?”
satoru looked down, his bangs hiding his gorgeous eyes as he did.
“on your date.” he mumbled. “don’t go.”
you placed your hands softly on his shoulders, and his hold tightened a little around your waist.
“why?”
“because like i said if he doesn’t accept you stinky then he can’t have you when you smell like vanilla—”
“toru...” you spoke sternly, softly. “why not?”
you didn’t know why you were pushing it so much… maybe you were trying to see if you could get it out of him— if he had the will to actually say it unlike you…
and you hoped to god he would say it.
he slowly lifted his head and propped his chin up on your tummy, a sour expression on his face as he puckered his lips to the side like a little fish.
“dunno…” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours and a sense of guilt swarming his chest at the uneasy look you had, his face relaxing as he sighed.
“sorry.” he smiled sheepishly, pulling back and letting go of your waist. “i’m kidding you have every right to—”
“m’not going.” you mumbled as you slid your hands away, looking down and playing with your fingers.
“huh?” he furrowed his brows. “no baby go you should go—”
“i don’t want to.”
you never did in the first place. you had foolishly thought that letting someone else in like this would be good for you and help you establish some sort of… barrier with satoru so you weren’t always suffering so fucking much.
but you were absolutely stupid for that.
all you’ve ever wanted was satoru, and doing something to pull you away from the type of relationship you had with him (whether platonic or romantic you had no freaking clue), was not only hurting you, but hurting him.
you didn’t need anyone else, truly. all you needed was satoru and his silly smile and dramatic antics— to spend time with just him and skate and eat dinner together after practices every night while watching horror movies, laughing so much over his screams that your stomach hurt while he whined about how you were making fun of him.
that’s all you needed… just satoru.
regardless if there was something more in question.
“you don’t want to?” he repeated softly. “why?”
“you know why, toru…”
you had said it so softly he barely caught it, but he did, his breath hitching in his throat.
that was the closest you two had ever gotten to acknowledging it.
you both were silent for a moment, the soft murmur of your tv downstairs filling the void as you looked at each other, tense and waiting for either of you to say something… anything.
but it was like the gravity of the foreseeable consequences settled onto your shoulders, and the pair of you could only sadly smile.
satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.
“birds of a feather?” he murmured.
you breathed out a little through your nose and looped your pinky with his, nodding.
“birds of a feather.”
he kissed his thumb and you did the same before locking the promise.
for the rest of the night, you and satoru watched a bunch of shitty unknown movies to try and see who would break and laugh first— you feeling bad that you had to cancel so last minute on that guy from your english class, but not regretting it at all as you watched satoru scarf down two slices of pizza in one sitting and nearly throw up, you almost falling off the bed from laughing so much and him having to catch you midway down and pull you back up, saying that he was your hero and therefore you should give him your last stash of strawberry gummy puffs as a reward.
it was nearly two am when you and satoru finally settled down, both sprawled over each other on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling and talked about literally anything that came to your minds— stubbornly fighting off sleep for whatever unknown reason in the dark.
“you know this is aki’s last olympics right?” you spoke softly, your arm propped up as you watched the way satoru played with your fingers.
“yeah..” he replied. “i don’t really know how to feel about that.”
“me neither.” you shook your head. “but she said it came at a perfect time because she’d been wanting to retire for a while.”
and now it was yours and satoru’s turn to try and fill the legacy she had built.
he hummed, delicately interlacing your fingers together as the outline of it through the darkness made you blush and smile, the nooks between his digits blessedly made entirely just for you as your fingers slotted perfectly in each spot every time.
and satoru silently vowed for the millionth time in his life that he would always be your hero and keep you safe, a promise that was already tied into your birds of a feather contract, but needing to repeat it to himself anyways while he listened to the sound of your voice talk about your excitement for the upcoming olympics.
and my god were you excited, the both of you— looking forward to seeing akira gracefully take home her fifth fucking gold medal like she always did with no repercussions, seeing her fans and the mass amounts of support she got every year with bouquets and teddy bears and picture taking, but also looking forward to spending even more time with her— for not just practices… but for forever, even more than you already did now as you two were greedy and just loved akira.
you were looking forward to forever, the three of you.
until akira’s accident.
“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”
satoru hurled over just as you both stepped onto the bleachers at the olympic arena, you laughing and placing supporting hands on his shoulders as you followed your mother and satoru’s to your designated place by the front.
“toru i told you you’d make yourself sick if you didn’t leave that damn dessert table alone.”
“there were cinnamon rolls baby. cinnamon rolls how on earth could i possibly just walk by a platter of cinnamon rolls—”
“okay!” you giggled, carefully leading him to sit down and ruffling his hair once you settled. “i get it! you love cinnamon rolls.”
“not as much as i love you—”
“yuck!” you stuck your tongue out and pushed him away by his cheek, him laughing loudly as he shooed your arm away and grinned.
“toru— this is the last time we’re gonna be sitting here in the bleachers watching aki.” you mentioned. “isn’t that fucking nuts?”
“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”
“no!” you giggled and nudged his shoulder. “then you’ll make me cry.”
he smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek, reaching up and fixing the bows in your hair before looking straight ahead, his sparkling blue eyes staring at the rink.
the crowd roared suddenly and a mix of big and tiny flags of several individual countries waved in the air as you and satoru jumped and screamed when akira glided out with her skates and glittery dress, a huge dazzling smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, her eyes scanning around quickly before they finally landed on you and satoru.
as if she wasn’t already smiling enough, it grew bigger at the sight of you both practically over the fucking rink calling her name, her blowing you both a kiss and connecting her hands together to form a little bird, fluttering it up funnily and making you laugh before spinning around and going to starting position with her partner.
“oh she’s gonna wipe again.” satoru breathed out. “wipe absolute buttcheeks.”
you cackled as you both watched her routine— incredibly fast paced and technical, filled with spins and throw jumps and lifts as she made it known that it was her last year and wanted to leave with a mark, you and satoru absolutely mesmerized by the choreography as a dramatic symphony of a classical piece drummed through your ears by the speakers.
each move was executed beautifully, you and satoru at the edge of your damn seats as akira’s partner lifted her by the arms to settle over his shoulders into a split formation— halfway through the routine already.
“maybe we could do a move like that for when we compete!” you suggested over the music. “i feel like technically it could—”
a hand flew over your mouth as you watched akira topple and slam to the ground upon coming down from her split lift, the spinning blade of her partner slicing through her abdomen as her head nastily collided with the ice— the crowd screaming in terror.
“oh my god!—” your chest moved frantically and you and satoru looked at each other, horrified faces as you watched the backside of her limp body on the ground surrounded by paramedics, her partner hovering over her in complete and absolute distress.
and there was so much blood.
blood that pooled all around her figure and stained her shimmering dress, blood that wouldn’t stop fucking spreading as a stretcher finally made it out on the ice.
“baby.” satoru’s voice shook. “why isn’t aki moving.”
“i— i don’t know—”
“aki!”
you both snapped out of your shocked daze and screamed over the rink and jumped, shoes slipping against the ice as the two of you tried to reach her through your panicked tears and calls, security speeding through and pulling you both back as you watched the paramedics lift her frail body onto the stretcher and away from the rink.
“that’s—” you sucked in a sharp sob. “that’s my aunt please let us go—”
“you need to stay out of the rink—”
“fuck you!”
satoru shoved security away and grabbed your arm, wishing you had your skates on as you both practically crawled over to where akira was being carried out, not giving a single shit about the way your mothers yelling demanded you back as security had to literally pull you and satoru by the ankles, further and further away from the scene and away from akira until the only thing left was her pool of sickly crimson blood in front of you, you and satoru wailing.
akira died at the hospital later that night.
the collision of her head against the ice brought such blunt force trauma that it caused irreversible brain damage, and with the amount of blood that she was already losing from the laceration of the blade— those elements combined didn’t give her a single fighting chance at survival, her fate sealed from the moment her body hit the ground.
it was completely unexpected… an incident like that had never happened in not just olympic partner figure skating, but figure skating competitions as a whole— the severity of the situation so grave that the complex move akira and her partner performed that led to her death was banned from the olympics moving forward.
and you and satoru were fucking ruined.
ruined and crying and clutching over her arms and hands at her hospital bedside, it scaringly cold and stiff and not her usual warmth at all as you couldn’t accept that this was your reality, that akira had left you both all alone after not only her initial familial love that you’d gotten since birth, but after nearly a decade of giggles and skating, her picking you both up from school and cussing up a storm because it made you and satoru laugh as kids, buying you ice cream and taking you out for beach days because she said the sun was good for your skin, harassing you and taking a million pictures of the two of you as she uttered over and over again that love had no limits— your dream of forever with her cruelly severed over the sport you all loved most.
yours and satoru’s mentor, friend, your fucking mother figure— was gone.
your aunt was gone. your own blood.
the entirety of that bullshit situation sort of settled into your minds by the time her funeral came— painfully holding back tears as your family members gave their speeches and final wishes before the lowering of her casket, you and satoru not saying a single word throughout the entire thing until it was just you and him standing in front of her grave site— your mothers waiting for you in their cars.
you both chose not to give speeches. you couldn’t.
“toru.” you sniffled, drowning in your tears as satoru strained to keep his back, lips pulled into a thin line.
“yes pretty.”
“this is so fucked.”
satoru breathed out a weak laugh and let a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, wiping them with the sleeve of his black suit as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, squeezing it.
“diabolically fucked.” he responded.
there really wasn’t much you could say at that moment in time, the two of you staring at the carvings on her tombstone as the wind softly blew over the petals of her flowers and letters, the day cloudy and cold and just fucked as you silently choked back sobs and whimpers, satoru lamely trying his best to stay strong for you— be your hero as he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you with everything that he had, nose buried in your hair as his tears fell and dampened a few strands.
“birds of a feather, toru.” you spoke softly, both of your frames shaking as the saying itself came from none other than akira.
he firmly nodded, lifting his head and kissing your cheek twice hard before looking at you.
“birds of a feather sweets.” his red teary eyes made your heart ache. “you can’t leave me too, okay?”
you scoffed and wiped your eyes, a sad smile on your face. “i could never… you know that.”
it didn’t really get easier from there, as everything in your lives reminded you of akira.
and though your mother was grieving the loss of her sister, she wanted to be left alone, and the only person that really understood the level of mourning you were on was satoru— him always there in the blink of an eye when you would call him in the middle of the night crying your eyes out while he held you, or when broken sobs wrecked through satoru’s trembling body as he cried into your chest while you held him and vice versa, endless amounts of ‘i miss her’s’ and ‘bring her back’s’ as you took turns depending on the day rolling on the floor unable to physically breathe over the loss as you tried to anchor each other back to normalcy, wondering how the world could be so cruel and continue spinning when you’d just lost half of your hearts.
but it did. it continued to spin and turn and carry on as you and satoru day by day tried to patch over what happened, be there for each other and heal each other as you graduated high school and caught up with satoru in college, still together and still in your stupid limbo of ‘is there something more’ except worse, and still inseparable three years later after akira’s passing.
it didn’t hurt any less, but the days definitely got easier… some harder than others as the time you spent with her became cherished distant memories, feeling eternally grateful for the way she raised and took care of you, for the work she had done, and for the legacy she had built for figure skating olympians around the world.
and because akira was so good and taught you both just as so, satoru and you had a little name of your own as you’ve been sweeping competitions since the age of thirteen, ninety eight percent unbeatable and competitive as other pairs always knew who you were the minute you stepped onto the ice, eager and curious to see if you would make it into the olympics when the time came just like your mentor had done.
some deemed it cheating— unfair due to the fact that you had a four-time gold medalist olympian training you since childhood, but that assumption quickly diminished after her passing when you both continued to wipe competitions and take trophies home purely based on your talent.
and you both agreed to continue your careers without a coach, a decision that didn’t even need to be thought twice over— and you were twenty and satoru twenty one when the time drew near to try for the olympics.
finally.
“my legs are gonna fall off and my balls are gonna droop to the icy floor if you don’t give me a kiss right now.”
“toru!” you giggled loudly, pushing his face away as he puckered up his lips and made obnoxious kissy noises, pulling you in by the waist. “toru focus we’re on a time crunch—”
“time crunch where?” he whined, stomping his blade down on the ice. “we’ve been at it for so long already i’m cold i’m thirsty and i think we should go to that cute christmas festival patch thing you told me aboouuttt!”
“right now?” you asked. “i don’t know toru… i had a set goal for us tonight and if we don’t get it—”
“oh you damn perfectionist.” he scowled, letting you go and quickly skating to starting position. “fine.”
you gave him a knowing smile and skated over to his dramatic sulking figure, kissing his cheek softly and wringing your arms around his neck, pulling him in.
“let’s run it three more times and then we can go to the festival, okay?”
he jumped up like a little kid, eyes hyper and wild. “really? honestly? truly?”
you nodded, gleaming up at him.
“is this a prank?”
“jesus toru you’re making me think i’m keeping you hostage here with how excited you are—”
“yiiippeeeee!—” he grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you before spinning on the ice, the both of you laughing as he roughly turned until he gradually came to a stop, big goofy smiles on your faces as he did so.
satoru loosened his hold as you slowly slid down against his body, faces close and lovesick as his half lidded eyes looked at you, lips stinging to plant directly over yours after so many years of hopeless pining and avoidance, still refusing to acknowledge the situation, but it glaringly obvious at this point.
“what?” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his lips as your blades touched the ice again.
he softly shook his head, blue eyes greedily drinking in your pretty face as he retracted a hand from your waist and brushed his palm over your hair adoringly, hand raising to cup your cheek gently.
was he about to…?
you swallowed, hands gripping his black t-shirt as you waited… anxious, hoping that he would do what you thought he was about to do.
but satoru squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace and quickly kissed the corner of your mouth before turning his back to you and skating to starting position— leaving you incredibly dumbfounded and disappointed.
satoru’s skin felt like it was on fucking fire as he looked at your stunning doe eyes blinking at him from across the rink, heart pulsing uncontrollably as you slowly skated to him and got into position, neither of you uttering a word about it as you ran the choreography three more times like you had agreed on.
you and satoru have had plenty of moments like that… but lately?
it’s been borderline dangerous with how close you’ve gotten to breaking your unspoken rule.
by the end of practice you and satoru excitedly packed up for the christmas festival, more or less stumbling out of the doors of the rink and locking up before throwing your things in satoru’s car and speeding off to the main plaza, cheesy dorky smiles on your faces as you babbled on about all of the things you were gonna do once you got there.
“the s’mores stand! the s’mores stand!” satoru whipped his head comically back and forth between you and the snowy road. “we have to go there and get five nothing less and maybe more—”
“wait! i wanna get some of that hot chocolate we got last year!” you quickly reached and gripped his shoulder. “the one with the chocolate bits in it! and the whipped cream! and the drizzle—”
“oh fuck yeah how could i forget?” satoru made a turn, the shining glimmering lights of the festival and christmas trees coming into view and riling you both up in pure exhilaration. “i gulped down like four cups of those and then threw up in a bush.”
you laughed loudly and shook your head. “i forgot about thaaaattt! toru you always shove shit in your mouth and throw up we have got to work on that—”
“no we don’t!” he cheesed, reaching over and patting over your hair— the smooth ribbon of your thin bows sliding underneath his palm. “i love sweets even if they hurt me. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. where there is no struggle there is no strength—”
“the only strength i see is a man hunched over puking his guts out.”
“hey!” he pouted, pulling into the lot before parking and turning off the ignition, the both of you hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards the main entrance. “and i’ll do it again so what.”
you giggled and interlocked your fingers with satoru’s. “silly silly.”
the festival was lively— huge decorated christmas trees everywhere you went as twinkling fairy lights adorned every corner and direction of the lots premises, several open stands that continuously wafted chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla throughout the entire night that had satoru practically floating through the air following the scent, kids giggling and running around as the soft familiar tunes of christmas music hummed in the background.
“what do you want for christmas, sweets?” satoru asked while chowing down a giant s’more.
“a kiss!” you quipped, giving him a cute silly look as you blew a bit of air over your steaming hot chocolate.
he stopped chewing.
“really?” satoru spoke with his mouthful. “i can literally give that to you right now c’mere—”
“no toru!” your cheeks buzzed a vibrant pink, completely flustered. “you’re supposed to say a big fat no!”
“now why the fuck would i do that...” he grumbled, shoulders slumping from disappointment as he took another big bite of his dessert.
you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.
and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.
my god.
you were about to turn him into a freak.
“okay now you have to kiss me.”
“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”
“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”
“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.
you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”
“you should.”
“can you forgive me?”
“not unless you kiss me.”
“toru!”
“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”
you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.
technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.
this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?
you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.
how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.
“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”
his eyes widened.
holy shit.
“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”
“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”
he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.
you both couldn’t believe it.
you were about to have your very first kiss.
the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.
satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.
but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.
because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.
you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.
but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.
but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.
“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.
you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”
“twins.”
“uh huh.”
“i love you.”
you stilled.
you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.
you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.
but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.
“i love you.” you responded.
satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.
“can i get another s’more—”
“no!”
satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.
you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.
on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.
“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”
“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”
you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”
his heart softened, nodding.
you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.
“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.
“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”
“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.
you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.
you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.
general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.
“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.
“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”
“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”
“and then from there i catch you?”
“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”
satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”
“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”
“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”
“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”
satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.
he loved doing things for you.
in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.
“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”
“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”
“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”
you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.
you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.
your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.
“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”
“fuck i know right.” you responded.
“language, y/n.”
“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.
your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.
“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”
the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.
“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”
“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”
she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.
your head whipped in his direction.
“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”
his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”
“fuck!—”
by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.
you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.
“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”
“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”
“but you seem fine when i throw up?”
“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.
it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.
your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.
“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.
he stiffened again.
“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”
you lazily grinned.
“youuu suureee?”
terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.
“please spare me please spare me—”
you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.
“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”
you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”
“i was lying for my safety.”
“uh huh.”
you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.
but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.
surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.
and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.
satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.
but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.
at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.
your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.
“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.
him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.
what happened?
“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.
but he was out of it.
undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.
“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.
“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“yes you do—”
“absolutely not—”
“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”
your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.
he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.
“do— do what?”
“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.
you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.
“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”
“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”
he needs to kiss you right fucking now.
your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.
“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”
“i swear i swear i swear—”
“okay then fuck me toru please—”
satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.
you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.
“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”
“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”
“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”
his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.
“open your mouth.”
satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.
“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”
“mhm.” you moaned.
your arousal was even sweeter.
“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”
you gasped. “what?”
satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.
“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”
his cock pulsed.
“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”
you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.
“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”
he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”
your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.
satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.
“toru—”
he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.
“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”
satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.
“too bad!”
“but—”
he spit on your cunt and you gasped.
“i said too bad.”
he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.
“yummy.”
he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.
“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.
your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.
“i— um—”
he placed his lips next to your ear.
“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”
“both toru please—”
he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.
“i can do both!”
satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.
“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”
you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.
“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.
you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”
“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.
oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.
satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.
thank god his mother wasn’t home.
“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.
“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”
“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”
“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.
“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”
your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.
“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”
“but m’not on the pill—”
“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”
your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.
what a stupid thought.
“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”
not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.
satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.
he suddenly raised his pinky to you.
“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.
“birds of a feather.”
you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.
and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.
years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.
and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.
but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?
except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.
he was so sick of it.
and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.
and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.
“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.
“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”
he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”
you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.
“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”
“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.
“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”
you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.
the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.
you made figure skating look beautiful.
you were beautiful.
you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.
“were you able to see? did you match me?—”
“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.
he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.
“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.
but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.
“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”
your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”
satoru was so kind.
you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.
you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.
“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”
you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.
“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”
“what are we.”
you froze.
“huh?”
“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”
“we’re— we’re friends toru—”
“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”
“w—well we can’t—”
“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”
“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”
“i’m your man.”
“no you’re not—”
he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”
“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”
he shook his head. “we won’t.”
“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”
“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”
“it— it is—”
“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”
you blinked back tears.
“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”
satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”
“but— skating—”
“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”
“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.
“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”
“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”
“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.
“it hurts me too.”
satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.
the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.
except it wasn’t dark at all.
it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.
silly.
he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.
“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”
you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.
and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.
until the moment was here. happening.
the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.
out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.
and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.
“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”
you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.
satoru frowned.
“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”
you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.
“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”
you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.
“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”
you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.
what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.
but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.
“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”
he held it out for you cutely on his palm.
“does this one match?”
you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.
“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”
you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.
satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.
“does they look okay?”
“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.
“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”
“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”
“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”
he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.
you stuck your pinky out.
“birds of a feather?”
satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.
“birds of a feather baby.”
you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.
the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.
and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.
the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.
and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.
you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.
you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.
except satoru’s hands were slippery.
why?
nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.
but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.
but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.
the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—
until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.
satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.
“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”
nothing.
why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?
his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.
and why was there so much blood?
blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.
“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.
“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”
how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—
“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”
he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—
no.
“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.
“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”
satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.
“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.
“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”
why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?
several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.
were you gone?
satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.
were you breathing? had you hit your head?
he couldn’t remember.
he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.
in front of him. taunting him.
was the world so cruel as to take you too?
it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.
you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.
and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.
oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.
you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.
you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.
you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.
if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.
but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.
you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.
but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.
you had lost so much, too much of it.
it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.
“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.
he shook his head no silently.
“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”
satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.
“m’fine.”
your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.
“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”
he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.
satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.
he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.
satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.
sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.
and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.
or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.
you should’ve just left him behind.
but he was sleeping when you woke.
arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.
and it hit you bad.
your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.
grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.
was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?
your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.
satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.
“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.
“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.
you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.
“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.
“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”
“oh god you have amnesia—”
“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”
“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”
“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”
“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”
“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”
you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.
you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.
you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.
satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.
your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.
and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.
two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.
“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”
“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”
“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”
“janitors.”
you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”
“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”
satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.
“hello?”
you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.
“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”
you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.
“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”
opportunity?
you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.
“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”
satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.
“holy fuck.”
“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.
“that was the national olympic committee.”
you froze.
“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”
“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”
silence.
“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.
“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”
you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.
“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”
“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”
“toru!”
even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.
but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.
to finalize your dream and make it a reality.
and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.
sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.
satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…
you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.
the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.
the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.
because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.
a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.
a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.
“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”
“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.
“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.
you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.
“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.
“birds of a feather.”
and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.
you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.
“toru…”
“yeah baby?”
“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”
satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.
“nah, we’d win.”
and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.
with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.
the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.
and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—
was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.
you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.
“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.
“i love you, toru!”
“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”
“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.
“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”
“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”
“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”
“toru!—”
the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’
it was call me when you get home.
have you eaten yet?
here, let me help you.
whatever you need.
yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.
and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.
fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.
and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.
“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.
“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.
“me too… but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”
he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.
“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”
your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.
satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.
“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”
“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.
“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.
she did.
a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.
you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.
but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.
for love had no limits.
you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.
and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.
“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.
“yes my offspring?”
you playfully glared at your husband.
“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”
“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.
“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”
“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”
you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.
“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”
“mmm— nope! scary!”
your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.
“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”
“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”
“but my suffering!—”
“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.
satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.
aki.
and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.
a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…
of birds of a feather.
taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):
@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @umemiaa @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire
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Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow — Gojo Satoru
pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader
synopsis: crushed by the pressure of his work, Satoru and the reader's relationship begins to spiral. You do everything you can to make him happy, but you fear it's not enough. Maybe it never was. After a miscalculation that could have resulted in innocent lives being lost, the situation takes a turn for the worse.
Word count: 17k+ (I'm sorry in advance)
genre: heavy angst with happy ending
warnings: heavy angst, swearing, reader is a motherly figure to Megumi but their relationship is a bit strained, mentions of depression and self-doubt, reader is a sorcerer, fighting, insecurity, arguments, and breakups (?), descriptions of gore, mentions of sexual intercourse (mdni), depictions of a complicated and untraditional relationship, reader gets hurt, hardly edited/proofread (oops), gojo is fed up and mean :(
a/n: this is the first and longest thing I've ever posted on here lol. I felt like there was a lack of sorcerer!reader, so I played around with that concept a little bit. other than potentially shitty writing (sorry for any typos or grammatical errors), I truly hope you enjoy <3
“Get out.”
The hash sentiment lingers, hanging heavily in the air.
“Well, hello to you too.”
He hears your feet shuffle across the floor as you stumble to take your shoes and coat off. “I just came to check on you.”
“And I’m fine,” he responds without moving, one arm up, draping over his aching eyes. He lies on the living room couch he lays on, one lanky leg propped up at an angle.
“You’re clearly not fine,” you respond, seeming unphased. “Have you eaten anything?” You ask, waiting for a response that never comes. “Okay, I’ll make your favorite ramen.”
He feels the side of the couch dip, your hand settling on his chest. Your fingers were greedy like you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with the fabric or caressing his taut muscles. Your voice is gentler when you speak this time. “Do you want an ice pack? Some tea?”
You two have done this dance before. You come home to find him exhausted, overworked with a migraine that could tranquilize an elephant. And just like always, you carefully slip his shoes off and unbutton the sleek black jacket to his uniform. It’s hard for him to stay mad about anything when you’re this kind, this caring.
“Satoru, please say something.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
Your voice was so gentle. So sweet, saccharine, and so fucking patient. A voice you only ever reserved for him and for his ears only. A gentle whisper carried in a gentle breeze. It was his favorite sound.
But not tonight.
So you try something else. Sweet kisses along the corner of his lips. You’re even bold enough to move his arm, the arm he was using to desperately block out any light or simulation. You kiss his eyelids, his forehead, and cheeks—feather-light. Your hand slides up his chest before reaching his face. You caress your thumb under his closed eyes, and your other hand finds his hair, gently massaging his temple. He has all of you. Every bit.
“Let me take care of you.” If it were any other night, your breath fanning his neck would have shattered him; goosebumps would have wrecked his body, he’d shiver, and everything in him would ease, and all of his stress would slip away into nothingness. He never had to be the strongest with you. You would render him down to nothing but a simple man with just a few words. “You don’t look too good, honey. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” For a woman so strong in your own right, a woman of unyielding dignity and poise and unwavering determination to succeed, this is his favorite side of you.
But not tonight.
When his hand clasps your wrist, he feels your whole body freeze against his. Maybe you were surprised. Maybe you predicted this and were preparing yourself but-
The tongue-lashing dies in his throat when he opens his eyes. Just a peak to your face makes him falter. You were pouting. Worried. “I’m fine.” it’s harsher than you deserve but kinder than the thoughts swirling through his head a second ago.
He’s agitated. Stuck in the same old system that continues to fuck him over—his students over.
And yet, you just looked too beautiful.
You pull away, finally taking the hint. Then, you stand, fully removing yourself from him and stepping away. Your body heat quickly disappears from where you once sat, and he quivers. The room was quiet once again.
The room remained quiet even as you placed a hot bowl of ramen on the table beside him, a glass of water, and two pills.
You slept alone that night.
-
You remember when you first met Megumi.
“Who the hell are you?”
You never would have expected that to be the the words from a child you had just met. You raised a brow. “Well, aren’t you a fucking, brat?”
You were different back then—colder, angrier. You were similar in that sense.
Oddly enough, maybe that’s what gravitated him to you.
You’re not sure when it happened, but gradually, the harsh edges of you began to… change. Not entirely softened, as thorns remained, but you bloomed, red petals and all. You grew softer, kinder, more patient—and finally—your heart had made space for others. The fear of loss remained, but you had never cared for someone so fragile. No one had ever cried for you, reached for you with small chubby fingers, or depended on you as he once had. You never had someone in your life that needed to be nurtured, protected, and guided.
He was just a boy.
Over time, you realized that if you remained unchanged, perhaps he would never grow into the man he needed to be. You’re not sure why he picked you, why he looked up to you of all people, but he did. He found comfort in you and followed you like a little duckling with a little waddle and permanent scowl.
There wasn't a rhyme or reason. He chose you, and you chose him.
Soon enough, you were waking him up for school, running your hands through his messy, dark locks. You were making him bento boxes, running to parent-teacher conferences, and having hard but meaningful conversations with him in his room about his troubling behavior.
Then you were hugging him as he cried, as he revealed the same dark thoughts you once had about yourself.
You wished this world wasn’t so cruel, so dark. You hope that in a different life, he would have grown into a normal kid, with hopes and dreams and a list of things he wanted to do and go out and experience. You didn’t want him to be shackled to a world that’s left you so scarred.
You fought for any sense of normality you could give him. If that meant confronting the higher-ups, so be it. At times, you even confronted Satoru.
He was just a boy.
Fire never harmed you; it never dared to scorch your skin. You commanded and held domination over nearly every flicker of heat. He was so small when you met him; you remember the first time you saw his small form shiver in the cold. It made you anxious. Despite buying him the heaviest winter coat you could find, you were beside yourself, always wondering—is he warm enough?
But, long were the days of you bundling him up in his jacket, tying his shoes, and tugging beanies over his dark hair and red ears. Long were the days of you clasping his little hands in yours to bring them warmth when the air grew too bitter. He grew older, smarter, wiser, and stronger. The boy that used to cling to your skirt after a hard day at school now stood inches taller than you.
You knew that one day he’d leave you, and you were okay with that. Seeing him so ready for the world made you happy. You worried—of course you still worried—but you were so proud. He was hesitant, unsure at times, and sometimes even looked back to you for assurance.
You were always there, smiling, ushering him along.
You can do it. I believe in you.
You grew up together, you think. Sometimes, you wondered if he ever paid for your shortcomings, or if he remembered your failures as a caregiver, but just like you did him, he’d assure you with a soft nudge and a gentle smile.
He knows you did the best you could with what you had.
He was just a boy.
Your boy.
He wasn’t yours, but you loved him like he was. Only as he grew did you realize the lines you had crossed.
He doesn’t remember his mother, but you’re sure he remembered her smile, perhaps her touch, or the sound of her laughter. You never meant to impose on her memory.
When it happened, he had just gotten into Tokyo Jujutsu High, and Satoru took him on his first official mission. You no longer had the means of pushing this off; you couldn’t beg Satoru or the higher-ups for another month, another week, another day. Megumi wasn’t a normal kid. He was a sorcerer and needed to start fulfilling his duties and mastering his technique.
“You can’t avoid the inevitable. You can’t protect him forever,” Satoru had once told you.
You knew he was right.
You stayed home that day, anxious and worried, but you knew Megumi would be alright. Satoru was with him. Even if the tall man was a bit harder on Megumi than you, you knew he’d keep him safe.
However, your worst fears came to fruition. Megumi wasn’t the same after that mission.
You remember. Satoru’s eyes were stern that night while Megumi's eyes never left the floor as he made his way to his room.
You remember thinking—what could I do to make my boys happy again?
After all, they were your everything, the reason you stood here now with a full heart. Things were newer for you and Satoru then, but he kissed you that night, warm, large hands gently holding your cheeks. He missed you a little bit extra that day. You were nervous, hesitant to fall into the sanctuary of his embrace, but it was only a matter of time until you were fully, devotedly his.
“Are you okay?” You had asked, only for him to nod his head.
“Yeah. Of course, I am, angel. Megumi is shaken up, but he’ll be alright too.”
You made Megumi’s favorite dinner that night—the same beefsteak he’s raved about since he was only six. Well, he never raved, but you perfectly remember the first time you made it, which happened to be the first time he tried it. He could barely get his chin over the table to scope his food into his mouth. He wasn’t good with chopsticks yet, so he used a little fork, which he held in his tiny fist. His little eyebrows raised before dipping down, creasing at the inner corners as he concentrated on the flavor. He murmured it’s good, and you remember being so proud of yourself. That was one of the first times you felt that you were doing something right by him. You made the same dish on occasion, and time only helped you perfect the recipe.
Megumi never came out of his room that night. The lights were off when you knocked. Even after hearing no response, you had cracked open the door, poking your head inside.
“Gumiii,” you stepped into his room. He was on his bed, groaning as you flicked the light on. He turned his back to you. “I made your favoriteee.”
You had sat on the edge of his bed, a hot plate of food in your hands. “C’mon, it’s the beefsteak you like. Nice and warm.”
“‘m not hungry,” he had grumbled.
You sighed. “The mission must have been unpleasant.” He remained still. “I’m sorry, Gumi. Satoru said you did well! I’m proud of you—” he flinched from your touch, snapping his arm away from your reach. You froze, having felt the coldness of his rejection. “If you don’t want to talk about the mission, how was your first day at your new school?” You asked. “Do you have any classmates you like?”
“Just quit it already…” he had murmured. “I’m not in the mood.”
Your shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay. My first mission was tough too, and you already know I wasn’t great at making friends either–” you winced, biting your tongue. This was coming out all wrong. “… are you okay, Megumi?”
“I’m fine!” He clipped, pushing himself upright in bed. “Just leave me alone and stop acting like you’re my mom already!”
You remembered—and just the memory of that night shambled your heart. You could never forget the hurt those words caused and how you couldn’t show it.
You had smiled wearily. Then, you placed his dinner on his desk. “…you’re right,” you echoed. “I’m not her, never could be. I’m sorry if I imposed. I never meant to.”
You never spoke of the incident, but you remembered that things were tense between Satoru and Megumi for a short while after that. You told Satoru to drop it, but you had a feeling the poor boy received a tongue-lashing from Satoru. You were never sure, though, and you could never prove it.
You just remembered feeling cracks in the foundation of the home you never knew you had so carefully crafted, brick by brick. Some of the warmth was gone—a warmth you never knew was quite there until it wasn’t.
Little by little, you pulled back. Megumi moved into the student dorms shortly after, and he needed you less and less. You no longer made him bento boxes or his favorite beefsteak. You bit your tongue with the lectures: Megumi, that’s not nice, or Megumi, you need to have more faith in yourself. You can do it.
Though the bitter bite of cold never entirely touched you, heated by an unquenchable fame, you pulled back your hand when you reached for him. He left you seared—burned.
You still worried. You never knew if you were giving him too much or not enough. So, you left most of the mentoring to Satoru now. It’s been a few months since the incident, and now you only ever speak to him if he approached you first.
That's why you were happy when you spotted him in town. You offered him a small, shy wave. He unexpectedly approached you and asked how you were and what you’d been up to. However, the most unexpected part was when he asked if you were busy. You shook your head, and it was impossible to hide you beam when he offered to get you hot chocolate from the same coffee shop you used to take him to after school in the colder months.
However, it seemed you weren’t the only one confused by Satoru’s recent behavior.
“Huh?”
“Gojo didn’t want me going on my mission,” Megumi reiterated.
You blink a few times, tapping your fingers against the styrofoam cup in your hands. “Huh. He’s never done that before.”
“He doesn’t think I’m ready. He took the mission himself.”
“He said that? That he doesn’t think you’re ready?”
“Well… not exactly.” He scowls slightly, looking down at the cup of hot chocolate. “But he damn well implied it.”
“Gumi,” you frown at the boy. He doesn’t make eye contact with you; he looks forward now, gazing out the window and watching the fresh snow coat the ground.
He was upset.
“He could’ve at least taken me with him.”
For a moment, you see that same little boy you met over ten years ago and that same dejected look on his face after being let down one too many times. It breaks your heart.
“If Satoru took the mission and went alone, I’m sure it’s for a good reason.”
He wants to say more but opts for something quick and sweet. “Yeah. Maybe.”
You have to do something. Quick. Anything to make him a bit happier. “I have a mission later in Osaka. I’ll be catching the 2 pm train. Wanna come? I could use the extra help.”
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, you presume, but he nods. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything else to do.”
“Great! And just so you know, we’ll probably be dealing with a grade one or two.”
He pauses momentarily before calmly asking, “And you need help with that?”
“Uh, yeah. Any help is much appreciated. Plus, I haven’t seen you much recently.” You smile brightly, and he turns his head, eyes finding the ground, looking a little bashful.
“About that…”
“Don’t worry about it,” you wave him off. “You’ve been busy with school, and I know that.”
“But that’s not–”
“It’s okay, Megumi,” you smile again, resisting the urge to reach across the table and gently squeeze his hand. “I get it.”
He gives you a look, a small disgruntled scowl. He wanted to say more.
“Alrighty then.” You stand, stretching from sitting in the chair. “I’ll buy you another hot chocolate for the road. We should probably start getting ready to leave.”
-
The mission goes well. An abandoned warehouse in Osaka conjured up a nasty looking grade three, but Megumi held his own just fine—like you expected. He’s grown much stronger and more sure of himself. You’re proud. Seeing how far he’s come certainly puts a smile on your face. He’s not a little boy anymore, you realized. He’s growing into a fine young man.
Urg. Stop getting emotional.
However, after stopping for a later dinner, you both arrived home late, around nine or so.
“You did good tonight, Megumi,” you tell him for the nth time.
He rolls his eyes, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. “You’ve told me that already.”
“I know, I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m proud of you. You’re getting so much stronger.”
Instead of brushing you off like all the other times, he sighs before offering a forced “thanks.”
“Alrighty then. Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you and the others sometime tomorrow, yeah?”
“Sounds good. Get back home safe.”
You nod, smiling. You make sure to watch him as he goes, making sure he gets inside before turning around. He’s capable of taking care of himself, but some habits never grow old. Making sure he gets inside anywhere safely has always been something you’ve prioritized, whether he was going to a friend's house, school, or boarding the train.
You loved him like your own, but you knew he wasn't. After all, it was only a few months ago now that he reminded you that he wasn't yours.
You’re not my mom.
It hurt—it still does—but you never held it against him. You still loved him nevertheless. Your relationship might have shifted but it doesn’t negate the fact that you care for him and would gladly give your life if it meant keeping him safe.
Then, there was Kugisaki and Itadori—two others slowly weaseling their way into your heart. They’ve helped Megumi so much; he might be too proud to admit it, but they’ve helped him come out of his shell; they were his friends, and you knew they had each other backs.
You sigh, a translucent cloud of white floating up and above your head. Just like always, your thoughts shift to blue eyes. Satoru. You’ve missed him today. No calls or obnoxious spam texts. It’s not unusual per se, especially when he gets busy. Regardless, you missed him.
But, something is bothering you. He wasn't communicating with you and he usually tells you these things. Even if he didn't have the time to tell you something right away, he'd eventually find a moment to talk to you. This time around, he didn’t. He didn't tell you he was leaving or about the whole ordeal with Megumi.
He just got up and left. You woke to a cold bed and an empty house. No text message, no note with a silly doodle. When you called him in the morning, it went right to voicemail. Eventually, when you pull up your shared text messages to check for anything new, you only saw the message you sent him from the day before. At a loss, you type out a quick message. You didn't think it would make things better, but at least it was something.
I hope you have a good day today :)
It was all you could really muster up after last night. He seemed so agitated, and so fed up. You blamed it on stress; he isn’t usually like that. Usually, his touch was careful, calculated as if you were fixed of glass. You missed his lame jokes and mischievous grins when he was up to no good. You weren't offered any of that last night. Or the night before. Even the night before that.
You’re starting to worry.
He always bounces back so quickly. The only thing that typically gets him this mad are the higher-ups. Which, in Megumi's case, makes sense. You can see why Gojo would intervene if they gave him a dangerous mission.
But why didn’t he take Megumi with him, at least?
Hm.. maybe it was beyond Megumi's skill set. Would the elders be stupid enough to set him up? They did it to you long ago, but they wouldn’t be bold enough to do it to the boy with the ten shadows technique, would they?
Or maybe Satoru… just doesn’t want to be near you?
Urg. You roll your eyes at your own selfish thoughts. Satoru wouldn’t do something like that. He’s already overworked as it is. Maybe you should make him something. A nice dinner? Or maybe he needed a pick-me-up? Kikufuku? You’re sure you could find the recipe online.
You're torn, so you decide to make both. Maybe you'll even put on a nice dress.
You decide to call him, and after a few rings, he answers. “Hey, honey,” you say sweetly, happy he even bothered to answer your call. "I was wondering when you’d be home tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner.”
He’s quiet again—too quiet. “Dinner? Tonight?”
“Yeah, you’ve been so busy lately. I figured you’d like that.”
He hums into the phone, sounding a bit lighter. “Dinner does sound nice…”
Your smile widens. You could hear the underlying stress in his tone; it was flatter than usual, but at least he was trying. “... I’ll even put on your favorite dress?”
He chuckles a bit. “Tempting, but I’ll probably have to leave after dinner.”
“Oh,” you murmur, wincing slightly at the rejection. Maybe you’ve gotten too spoiled—too accustomed to him pushing off his responsibilities all for the sake of spending a few more moments with you. Were you being too greedy? “Are you okay? They’re not stretching you too thin, are they?”
He sighs in a carefree tone. “I'm doing fine. Same old thing, just a different day,” is all he offers, but you can tell he’s withholding.
“I can help, y’know,” you offer gently. “If you have too many missions, I can take a few off your plate.”
“Nah,” he tells you a bit arrogantly. “It’s better if I handle it.”
Now you’re really starting to feel the distance. He usually reserves the softer parts of him for you. You suppose he just didn’t have the patience to do so right now. “You, uh, got into it with the higher-ups I heard,” you mention, trying to keep the conversation going but approaching from a different angle. “Megumi was telling me you even took his mission. I think he was a bit upset you didn’t take him with you. How come you never told me?”
“How come you never told me you were going to Osaka? Or the fact that you took him with you?”
Your stomach twists, unease bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like where this was heading. “I– it’s never bothered you before,” you manage, though your voice falters, dying down into nothing but a whisper. “And it’s not like you’ve been… wanting to speak to me recently. I haven't had the time to tell you much of anything," your trail off, your voice slowly fading before you begin again. "Did I do something to make you mad?”
The silence that follows is unbearable—longer than you ever imagined it could be. “Satoru… Please just talk to me.”
“I gotta go,” his tone is cold, clipped, and final.
There’s a click as he hangs up, and the silence becomes deafening and threateningly absolute.
-
You realize you miss the way he used to look at you. Not the way he'd gaze at you, but in the way he would gaze into you, as though you were ever the only thing that ever really mattered.
After your last conversation with him, you were unsteady. You hated how you stayed in bed for hours, analyzing everything he's said to you recently, dissecting his every action. You hated how needy you suddenly felt, even while laying there, in his bed, in his clothes. He paused just a second too long before answering you now, as if he had to must up the courage and energy to do so. His laugh no longer came out easily. Others might miss it, but you never could. It was still rambunctious, taking up a whole room, but to you, it felt forced, brittle even. You've known Satoru at his best, and you've also known him at his worst.
When he looks at you now, you wonder if he's really seeing you. Painfully, you realize you haven't seen him; not without his eyeband on at least. Last night you did, for the first time in a while, but he seemed agitated.
The worst part was that you didn't know how to bring yourself to confront him. You struggled, unsure which pretty words and cadence would unluck the distance between you two.
Did something happen on one of his missions? Was he stressed? Had the higher-ups pushed him too far, testing his patience?
Or was it you? Was this somehow your fault?
Did you scare him away? Have you said too much, cared too deeply, loved too loudly?
You weren't sure, but you had to try something.
You were grateful you were cooking him dinner tonight on your day off. It was the least you could do, and you adored taking care of him. You choose hot pot, something you and Satoru have tried at home before. It took over a few hours to prepare, but it was worth it. You made two broths, you sliced up shabu-shabu and wagyu beef and even went to the extent of watching a video to make a dipping sauce. Unfortunately, you forgot one of the ingredients for the kikufuku mochi and didn’t want to risk making something he didn’t entirely like. Luckily, you had spare time to run down to the kikufuku store right before it closed. Of course, you grabbed all his favorite, two boxfuls, in fact. He was a big guy, so you hoped you had more than enough food for him to indulge.
You and Satoru were together. Though he never outright asked you to be his, you knew. It was an unspoken thing, and you were content with that. For as goofy and eccentric as that man could be, it was rather surprising how he was never outright with what he was actually feeling.
He was damn good at showing it, though. In more ways than one.
You feel it in the way he’d always reach for you after a nightmare. Shaking, needy hands tightly clasping at your waste, fearful of you disappearing and slipping to a place where he could not reach you. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow. Please. His face would nuzzle into your neck, sharply inhaling your scent. You’d hold him, whispering endless promises. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Or it's okay. Breathe, my love. I’m with you.
You feel it on the nights he’d pin you beneath him, his grunts and moans echoing in your ears as he fills you so completely. He’d beg, no demand you—tell me you’re mine. Only mine.
And, of course, you’d eagerly nod, overwhelmed with the pleasure only he could strum out of you so perfectly. ‘m yours. All of me—yours.
You feel it in his protective gaze, his eagerness to hold you in the life vest of his arms. You felt it late into the night, damp bodies pressed against one another; low lighting, quiet laughter, and secrets revealed. His dreams, his wishes, his what ifs—the parts of him that no one knew or considered. Or when he handed you a silver key with a handsome and cheshire grin. What do you say? He was lovely, every bit of him, especially his gentle and selfless heart that you would never take for granted like the rest of the world seemed to.
You feel it when he comes home from overseas and how his strong arms hold onto you just a bit longer, a bit tighter. You feel it with how he smiles into your neck or that one time at the airport when he lifted you up and spun you around, uncaring who saw.
You feel it in the way that it was unspoken. You feel it in his cursed energy and how it perfectly intertwined with yours, reaching for you, comforting you when his hands could not. You especially feel it in the necklace he gifted you—the one your fingers were playing with now: a silver chain with cerulean sapphires, the same breathtaking shade of his eyes. His cursed energy, carefully imbued into the stones, was like carrying a piece of him with you—always, wherever you may go, and it rests directly above your beating heart.
He might not voice it, but you feel it. He loved you. And you certainly loved him.
So when had it become so hard to reach him? Why does he seem so intangible all of a sudden? Something deep and unsettling blooms in your stomach.
And now that you think about it…
When was the last time you two did any of that? When was the last time his careful hands caressed you?
Only Satoru could make you this worried or make you feel this displaced. A sense of panic strikes you, and you pull out your phone to text him when you realize he’s thirty minutes late. Usually, that wouldn’t bother you, but–
After only three rings, you're sent to voicemail. When you check his location, he’s at the high school. Should you check on him? Or would that make him… mad?
He toru! Dinners ready. When do you think you’ll be home? Miss you.
You bite your lip. He quickly read your message, but those three little bubbles never show up.
Nothing. Just nothing.
Maybe he’s staying up late writing the report for his latest mission?
“eek!” Your phone pings, and after a round of hot potato, you see he’s texted you back.
Only to be met with more disappointment.
Dealing with something urgent. Don’t wait up.
You frown, knowing you should drop it, but you can’t.
Satoru…
He’s typing faster now. What?
You pause, thumbs hovering over letters you hesitate to type. What’s going on? You’ve been off lately.
I’m fine. Just busy.
Do you want me to bring you dinner to the High School?
Those three bubbles appear and disappear more times than you can count. No. I said don’t wait up.
You know I don't sleep well without you.
He responds in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Your patience is wearing thin for the first time since this ordeal started. Are you saying you won’t be coming home tonight?
You’re offered no response. He doesn’t even open your message. For the second night, you lay in a cold bed. Except, Satoru doesn’t come home.
Only he could fracture you so completely.
-
During your next mission, you brought the whole trio along. According to the report you were handed, you were only dealing with a grade three, but there was also an Infestation in the area. You could use the backup.
You had initially asked Megumi, but once Yuji caught wind, he was adamant that he tagged along, and, according to Nobora she had nothing else better to do.
“Are you guys sure? It’s your day off.”
Yuji shrugs, both arms up, hands up and behind his head. “Yeah, I’m game.”
“Me too,” Nobora voices with a small glint in her eyes. “I got something new I want to try out anyway. We didn’t get to go on a mission last week as it is.”
You paused. "Huh? Gojo didn’t take you on any?”
“Nah,” Yuji shakes his head. “I think he’s been busy or something.” He looks at Kugisaki. “Hasn’t Gojo-Sensei seemed a little… off?”
Nobora nods. “Uh yeah. He hasn’t been himself at all. We figured you’d know something,” Nobora says, curious eyes scanning you.
“Huh… I’m not sure. We haven’t gotten around to talking lately.”
Megumi hums, though it sounds more suspicious than his usual passive tone.
Though they weren’t necessarily your students, you figured there was no harm in taking them. You've done it before and having them around was always like a breath of fresh air—reminding you of why Satoru dedicates himself so fully to his cause and being a teacher. They give you a reason to get stronger and keep fighting. You loved these kids and all their bickering.
Except, this mission doesn’t go anything like you had expected. The report was wrong—a grade two was ambling through the abandoned schoolhouse. That was fine; the four of you were more than enough to kill it. The infestation was a bit overwhelming, but you had their backs, and they were nothing but pesky small curses lower than a grade four.
Everything went well when the ambush happens. You all saw it: right in front of your eyes, a grade one emerging from the shadows, born into something nasty. It's skin oozed a sickly black slime that clung to its misshapen body. Its face—or lack there of—was dark and amorphous, split by a jagged maw that stretched impossibly wide, revealing rows of sharp serrated teeth, ready to cut and slash through flesh like a meat grinder. Other that is daunting appearance, the only other notable thing about it was its speed.
You told the kids to back down, but it was already too late. They were already involved, stuck in the heat of battle and fighting as a seamless unite. They were more than capable of standing on their own.
But you needed them out of here. Your obligation was to protect them no matter how eager they were to help. However, before you could think of your next move, the curse made one last self-preserving attack. It opened in wide jaws, releasing several red beamed energy blast aimed directly at stone pillars.
You had no time to think, only react. In an instant, you surged forward towards the trio, faster than their eyes could react. Grunting, you knocked them back, glass shattering as you kicked them through a window. You felt the impact ripple through your body, fully knowing you knocked the wind out of Megumi and Yuji. However, they recovered quickly, their instincts sharp enough to catch Nobora–
Right in time before the building collapsed.
The building groaned like a wounded beast, its entire frame buckling from lack of support. Stone walls crumbled into clouds of dust and debris, windows shattered in explosive bursts, steel beams twisted and snaped with sickening shrieks. The ground trembled violently as the structure gave way, collapsing into a chaotic heap of concrete, rubble, and smoke, swallowing everything beneath. Including you.
You survived. Reinforcing your body with cursed energy made you strong enough to withstand the impact, and your heavenly restriction certainly helped. Nevertheless, you still took on quite a bit of damage from the tons of metal and concrete.
You woke up under the rubble with a startling gasp, choking on the dust. Were you out for a few seconds? Minutes? You were unsure, but the only thing pushing you to stand was the panic coated in Megumi’s voice. He was calling for you, and so were the others. You could hear the strain in their voices, the utter distraught. You healed your broken leg and the gash on the corner of your forehead, ceasing your gushing blood. You gathered yourself and your strength before pushing. They found you quickly after that, noticing a heap of rubble moving. They ran, rushing to help you push back concrete that threatened to suffocate you. You never did like tight spaces.
Thankfully, you were alright. The kids were safe as well.
However, the curse had escaped. Megumi was visibly shaken, his fingernail cracked, bruised, and bleeding from digging urgently through the rubble to find you.
Everyone was on edge. It wasn't their fault you didn't react quickly enough. You were more than capable; maybe that's why the failure stung so much.
You let yourself down. You let them down.
You were spiraling into a dark place quickly. The guilt threatened to swallow you whole. Gojo was still nowhere to be seen. You didn't have the strength to call him. You’re not sure what you could even say. You’ve fucked up before, but never to this extent. Not to where a whole building collapsed.
“Good morning. A tragic incident occurred last night when an abandoned school collapsed around 7 pm. Authorities are currently investigating the cause, and preliminary reports suggest that the collapse could have been due to a structural weakness—one of the many reasons why the school was abandoned in the first place. We will continue to monitor the situation as more information becomes available–"
Megumi gently grabs your phone and locks your screen. Wordlessly, he shakes his head before pocketing your device. You’re too exhausted to ask for it back.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Sensei?” Yuji's voice was soft, the first voice to break the ice. You look up from your hands, unsure how long you’ve been lost in thought. You force a small smile as you gaze at the three kids. You were sitting across from them in the waiting area outside the council room.
“I’m alright. Are you guys?"
“We’re all fine,” Megumi cuts in quickly. “We’re– we’re more than okay.”
“That's good,” you trail off. “That's really good.”
Uncertainty hung dangerously in the air. What happened now? You were okay, but for how long?
You knew you were in for a lashing with all the collateral damage you caused. It was supposed to be a simple mission. This wasn't supposed to happen. You four were fine, but did anyone else get hurt?
You flinch at your own thought. You don't think you could live with yourself if innocent lives were lost.
“Sensei?” Yuji's soft, unsure voice cuts in once more. When your eyes make contact, he smiles brightly. You can tell it’s forced. “After this, wanna go get something to eat? There’s this great sandwich shop down the street!”
“Y–yeah!” Nobora sits up straight after being less than conspicuously nudged by Yuji. “It’s pretty good. We went the other day–”
The council room door creaked open. The higher-ups were waiting, shrouded in shadows and faces hidden. Even if you couldn't see them, the tension was palpable. Even without seeing them directly, you could sense their anger, smell it as it rolled off of them in a quiet, unspoken fury. You glance at the kids once more, this time with a gentle, reassuring smile curling at your lips.
Everything would be okay.
-
Everything was, in fact, not okay.
The air was heavy as you entered your office. Your limbs ached, your head throbbed, and every breath felt like dragging glass through your lungs. You had thought the worst of it was over, and slowly, you felt your body begin to shut down, but only when there were no prying eyes to see how you compensated for your injuries. Even after using RCT, you had a limp—your bones were mended but not quite right. Your head was no longer bleeding—but still, you weren't quite right.
You dismiss it as exhaustion; after all, you had just learned RCT not too long ago. Maybe you missed something. However, this wasn’t anything you couldn't handle on your own. You could see Shoko, but why bother her? You’ve endured far worse. Dealing with a sore body and a headache for the next few days wasn’t out of your jurisdiction.
When you open the door, a flickering lamplight reveals a tall frame standing by your desk. Even before your eyes dance upon his sharp and still silhouette, the air shifts—your soul already knows he is there. Satoru.
But, his eyes never meet yours; you weren’t blessed enough to see them, a bright blue illuminating in the absence of light. His eyes were covered with a familiar dark cloth. However, you didn’t need to see them to know that the usual warmth they held as he gazed upon you was gone. In its place was a coldness that turned your stomach.
“Satoru–”
“I know,” he says, voice clipped as he turns to face you. “I read the reports.” Your heart sinks as he haphazardly tosses the report down to your desk.
You’re exhausted, unsure of where to even begin. So many questions floated in your weary mind. Where were you? When did you get here? Please, don’t be mad at me.
It’s funny how all your dignity, poise, and strength to endure are gone with him. You already took one berating from the elders, and you’re not sure you could handle another.
Not from him.
“But, I want to hear it from you.” He stepped closer, his height making him all the more domineering. “What happened out there? And how the hell are my students caught up in all of this?”
“The report was wrong. It was a grade two, not three, but we handled that just fine. We cleared out the area and completed the mission, but we were ambushed. A grade one appeared, destroyed the pillars, and–” You hesitate, unable to form the words. “Well, you know what happened.” He’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. “I–I did everything I could, Satoru. The students were fine, but the curse got away.”
“Everything you could?" His voice echoes. "I don’t need excuses. Certainly not from you. You endangered them—all of them. They’re not even your students!” He snapped, his voice rising in a way you’ve never heard before.
You bite back the lump forming in your throat. “I thought you, out of anyone, would understand the circumstances.”
“...Understand?” He utters back, a quiet fury rolling off him in waves.
“I made sure that–”
“You failed,” he snaps, voice laced with malice. “Enough. Just stop it. You were reckless and went behind my back, and you let a pathetic grade one get the best of you.”
Your chest tightened, crumbling at the weight of his tone. “Went behind your back? I did no such thing.”
“They could have been hurt because of you!” You visibly flinch, his words carrying more weight than the debris that had buried you—broken bones and all.
“I’m recommending you be demoted to grade two.”
What?
“You can’t do that. Satoru, you can’t–”
“I can,” he said coldly. “and I will. You failed, and not only did you fail, you went behind my back and involved my students. Your recklessness caused this,” disdain coats his voice, and he sucks his teeth. “I was gone for two fucking seconds, and you damn near ruined everything. People could have died. My students could have been injured. So stop being a nuisance and just do as you're told from here on out.”
No.
No, no, no, no.
You fought for years to get to grade one. A woman with a name of no renown—this society was never in favor of you; the system was set up for you only to fail time and time again. For years, you were held at grade three, then grade two, all because of your name’s sake—all because you were a woman. You didn’t have the luxury of being as good as other sorcerers; you had the burden to be better.
Even now, at grade one, they continue to undermine you and undervalue you. You knew you didn’t have room to make mistakes, for they would tarnish every bit of good you have done. You thought Satoru understood that. You thought he viewed you as an equal, someone strong enough to stand by him. You thought he valued you, respected you.
You never thought a mistake, a stupid mistake, would lead to this.
It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.
“This has nothing to do with my rank. You don’t believe me. You don't trust me. After everything–”
Hearing his scornful laugh, your vision begins to blur. “Don’t make this personal. You fucked up, and now I have to clean up your mess.”
Your ears begin ringing. The pounding in your head becomes too much and threatens to crack your skull open once more.
“But it is, isn’t it?” You whisper. How could it not be personal with how he's been treating you for days? “You haven't been able to look at me in weeks. You speak to me as if I’ve become nothing but a burden to you—a nuisance. What did I do to deserve this?”
He remains silent, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he grits his teeth. Point proven.
Your heart painfully twists with each beat. “Do you even… care about me anymore?” You’re not sure why you say it, why the words slip past your lips, but they do.
He read the report and he hadn't even asked if you were okay. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but it makes your chest ache. You just wanted to go home, crawl in bed and hold him. However, you knew that wasn't in the cards right now.
“Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”
Your voice finally wavers before him, cracking as you press on, desperate for him to understand—desperate to have him by your side as he has been for so many years.
“You’re casting me aside like I’m... worthless."
It was cruelty, a quiet and deafening insult for him to demote you of your status—but more specifically, your place beside him. That hurt runs deep, to the point that feelings of betrayal start seeping into your veins, poisoning you, antagonizing you. Belittling you. It was a sharp dagger you never expected—searing with a hatred that threatened to cripple you. This wasn’t just about your position. He was a man of unchallenged stature, of the highest status and regard, lowering you, demeaning you with his every word, every action.
When did things go so wrong?
Yet, even now, you question yourself. Were you being dramatic? Were you taking this too personally? Were you being selfish?
Because he was right. Every word he's said so far was right. You failed. You put them in danger.
You stand there, a hollow feeling growing in your chest. The sting of Satoru’s words cut deeper than any blade you’ve faced. His jaw tightened, his gaze hard as steel and cold as ice. “You gave me what I never asked for.”
“Don't you dare!” You snap, finger trembling as you point his way with an accusatory jab. “Don’t you dare pretend this is nothing. You know me better than anyone. How could I not take this personally? I’ve done nothing but stand by you, love you, trust you–”
“Like I said, I never asked for any of that,” he utters sharply, his carefully composed exterior shattering. “Whatever we were was nothing more than fucking convenience.”
Suddenly, he stops, freezing at the onslaught of his own lethal words. His next words seemed to die in his throat. The damage was done.
Exhausted, defeated, numb. His words hit you like a death blow. “... Convenience?” Echoing the very word that came from his lips—a sound you hardly recognize comes from your mouth, a small slip of the anguish tormenting and swelling in your body escapes.
The necklace around your neck, the very one he had given you, seemed to pulse against your skin, warm and alive. It carried a piece of him, a piece of you, a guiding hand in the absence of light: a thread, an anchor—a way home.
Suddenly, you hated it. Hated the way it sat so close to your heart, hated the warmth, his energy; you hated that, even now, his words cutting so deep, unraveling the fabric of your being, it comforted you, reaching for you.
You yanked it off, the chain snapping in two as you held it in your trembling hands.
He falters, his whole being frozen. “What are you doing?” he asked, quiet and tense, blanketed in uncertainty.
“I don’t want it,” you say, voice quivering, threatening to fail you at any moment. His energy—the only energy that blended so perfectly with yours—reached for you, and so did his trembling hands. Reflexively, you flinched away, retreating further into the room and further from him. “Don’t,” you shake your head. “Don’t touch me. Not with your hands, not with your energy. Don’t.”
Silent tears stream down your face. You are unable to look at him, and your breathing is shallow and unsteady. You open your hand, letting the necklace drop to the floor. The faint sound of metal hitting wood echoes in the suffocating silence of the room.
There’s a soft knock on the door. It creaks, slightly opening. “... Y/n sensei?” came an unsure voice.
You stiffen, and suddenly, you can sense them, three nervous students standing outside your door. Too caught up with Satoru, you had entirely missed them. You clear your throat and dry your cheeks with the back of your hand before turning to the door. You walk over, opening the door wide enough to see them.
“Sorry if we’re interrupting, but we just wanted to know if you still wanted to come out for dinner with us...”
Fuck. How much did they hear?
You take a breath, and it’s shakier than you anticipated. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. Let me grab my jacket, okay.”
Yuji only offers an unsure smile. Norbora has a hard time even looking at you, while Megumis's eyes are solid and unyielding, glaring right past you. His hands were in his pockets, balled into tight fists.
You don’t know what to do other than quickly turning. Within a few ushered strides, you were at your desk, grabbing your coat off your desk chair; you’re careful to avoid Gojo, who manages to plaster on that big fucking grin.
“Heard you guys were up to no good while I was away.”
“We were fine,” Megumi interjects before Yuji could open his mouth. “More than fine.”
“Y–yeah, everything ended up being just fine. Y/n-sensei made sure of that,” Nobora awkwardly adds, shifting her weight on her feet.
“Ah,” Gojo nods. “Well, make sure you get some rest tonight. We’ve got a long day tomorrow! You guys will be training with the second years!”
You hated how he could act as if everything was alright while you were fighting back tears. It was another jab, a suckerpunch to the gut.
You just needed to get out of there.
-
After dinner with the kids, you headed out on your own the following day. You went home, stuffing some clothes in a bag before spending the night at a cheap motel. Before getting with Satoru, you always floated from place to place, never truly settling. Those days, all you carried on you was your backpack. You didn’t have a home or many possessions you could call your own. You just had yourself.
I guess old habits die hard.
Megumi was the first to text you: I went to Gojo's house today and didn’t see you.
All good! I’ve been busy running errands.
Nobora text you sometime after.
Hey Sensei!! Let me know if you’re available today! Let’s go shopping!
You responded rather quickly. Sorry, I’m not around today. Maybe ask Maki? Or maybe Yuji and Megumi would like to tag along.
But guys suck :(
Then, there was Yuji: Hey, Sensei! Let me know if you want ramen! The gang and I got you since you covered for us the other night! I even got coupons!
You weren’t sure what to say. You always covered for their meals (no exceptions), but you knew they were just trying to be kind. You double-tapped and hearted the message.
You appreciated them more than anything, but frankly, it was a bit embarrassing. You never meant for them to overhear you and Satrou that night in your office, and you were never one for pity. If it were anyone else, you would have called them out and told them off. However, you wouldn’t dream of doing that to the kids. They were trying to support you in the only way they knew how, but it wasn’t their responsibility to worry about you.
Surprisingly, Shoko was the next person to contact you. You never stopped by my office. I’m assuming you’re alright?
Smiling gently, you responded. Yeah, no injuries to report.
A building collapsed on you.
You scoff, imagining her deadpan expression. Heavenly restriction, remember?
That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.
Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Yeesh. Just meet me at the bar you like downtown.
That’s where you are now, Shoko’s favorite bar, tossing back your third shot. ”Take it easy. I don’t feel like dragging you home tonight.”
“Ah. I’m alright, Shoko.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Neither do you with those bags under your eyes.”
She brings her drink to her lips, mumbling “touché” before taking a swig. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Vivid memories pressed to the front of your mind of the building collapsing. “Satoru is demoting me. After the elders ripped into me, I found him waiting for me in my office.”
“He– what? Jeez,” she took another sip of sake. “Out of everything, I didn’t expect that.”
“I– we haven’t been doing too good. I’m not sure if there even is an us after last night.”
“Huh. He did seem a little out of it today.”
“Somehow, I kinda doubt that.” There’s a beat of silence, and you swirl the liquid in your cup.
“If it means anything, he asked me about you. Asked if you were alright.”
You smile a bit sardonically. If Satoru really wanted to find you, you knew he could, as he had the means to do so. From here, you were only about five miles away from his estate. It’s not like you were too for his eyes to see. Suddenly, that thought bothers you, and you find yourself almost subconsciously concealing your cursed energy.
“Is that why you texted me?”
She gives you a weird look. “Partially. I had my own concerns.”
“Like what?”
“If I’m being honest with you, you’re not great at RCT. I wanted to check and make sure everything was alright. It eventually catches up with you if you don’t do it correctly. I’ve seen it cause irreparable damage before.”
“Ah. I guess that makes sense.”
“You should come to my office tomorrow so I can check–”
“I think I’m gonna quit.”
“…what?”
“I mean, that’s what they really want, right?”
“If you do that, they’ll find the easiest excuse to label you as a traitor. A cursed user.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Since day one, they’ve been trying to paint me as a villain.”
“So don’t give them what they want,” Shoko bites back. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “Listen, I can’t stop you. You are going to do what you want to do at the end of the day, but you don’t need to do this. You made a mistake.”
“I’m just tired,” you tell her truthfully. “For months, I’ve been pretending, going through the motions. I've been miserable. Megumi hasn’t wanted me around much. He’s older now, and he doesn’t need me anymore–”
“Of course he does,” Shoko cuts you off. “He’s still a kid.”
“And I’m not his mother,” you retort bitterly. “Then, there’s Satoru. He’s been so distant. He used to always be in my corner and make everything better, but I don’t even have that now. Now, all of the jujutsu society thinks I’m a liability. He thinks I’m a liability. Maybe it’s why he’s grown to resent me so much.”
“Please. Just stop talking,” Shoko remarks, overwhelmed with how quickly you were talking. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of conversations like these, but at least she listened. “I’m here if you ever need anyone. And please, don’t let this fester. I would rather not lose another friend.” She takes a large gulp this time, finishing her drink before gesturing for a refill. “Tsk. Satoru is complicated—I get it—but he wouldn’t want you to leave. Neither would Megumi. That kid loves you. Maybe you and Gojo just need a break.”
A break? Ha. That was one way of putting it. However, it already felt much more like a breakup, and its permanence frightened you. Like many other things in your relationship, it was never voiced but certainly felt.
“Yeah,” you say softly, body buzzing as you down your fourth shot. “Maybe you’re right.”
-
You start walking home after having drinks with Shoko. It was a long walk, and you took your time. You weren’t in a rush to head home to potential chaos. The thought of staying at a hotel crossed your mind, but you had nothing to change into. Frankly, it didn’t matter where you went either. It’s not like you’d be able to sleep any better.
Though, it’s not like you were going back home to anything good. You were suspended without pay; you couldn’t go near the school grounds or exercise any curses—a stipulation you rolled your eyes at. If they thought just a few measly words would stop you from exercising a curse, they would be more idiotic than you thought.
Still, maybe it’s good to take some time off. Maybe you should stay at the hotel. If you were lucky, they’d have a washer and dryer.
Then, your phone starts to ring—a unique ringtone that a white-haired idiot assigned to his contact one day after you let him “borrow” your phone. He even changed his contact photo; years later, you never had the heart to change it.
Your heart aches when you see the contact photo of him, his goofy smile and gorgeous eyes peeking over his black shades. You answered hesitantly after a few rings.
“Hello?”
“Heyyy,” you hear, his voice light and cheery yet, lacking its usual spark. “Where are you? I know I missed dinner the other night so I picked up your favorite on my way home!”
Back to normal? Just like that?
You take a breath, reeling in your emotions. It wasn’t normal, per se, but you could tell he was trying, stepping cautiously over the ice he knew could shatter at any moment.
“I’m not home, right now.”
“Huuuh?” You can hear the slight whine in his voice, and you can imagine him pouting like a small child. You expect him to carry on with his theatrics, but he hesitates. “When do you think you’ll be home then?”
“Uh, I don’t really know,” you trail off, unable to keep up his faux mirth and bravado.
“Well, if you don’t want to sleep next to me tonight, I can just take the guest bedroom!” For a moment, he sounds hopeful.
Honestly, he’s just making your head spin.
“Honestly, I think it’s best if I stay out of the house for a little while, Gojo.”
There’s a beat of silence before you hear his nervous laughter. “Gojo?” he remarks dejectedly. “Can’t remember the last time you called me that.”
You were unsure what to say; you hadn’t even realized you initially referred to him by his last name until he pointed it out. You want to tell him sorry—for everything, but your tongue tenses in your mouth, and your throat threatens to close up. You hated it when he got like this, and typically, you’d do anything to make him smile again.
But you’re hurt, and he caused that hurt.
“I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” he adds quickly, unable to withstand your silence.
“What’s there to talk about?” You ask softly. “What done is done. I messed up.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It can’t be undone now. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Your stomach drops your heart twists and aches. Was he going to officially end things with you? A bitter, more cruel half of you whispers—you weren’t even officially together to begin with. However, none of that even matters; he has too much of you, too many pieces of your frail heart in the palm of his hands. You were irrevocably his, but was he ever yours?
Just a few weeks ago, you thought you would have an entirely different answer than the one you have now. You're too afraid to face him or the truth. You were guilt-ridden, your pride and dignity torn to shreds. Hearing that he no longer wishes to be with you would be too much.
Honestly?
You’re not sure how you’d react. If you’d sob, if you’d remain stoic, or if you’d flip a table and trash every one of your possessions. You’re at wit's end, and the level of fallout threatening to break free from you was immeasurable.
So, you finalize what you had been contemplating just five minutes ago. “I think I’m going to stay at a hotel, Gojo. I need space. Time to think.”
“I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other,” he says lowly, his voice reverberating through the phone. You shiver. “It doesn’t feel right.”
You hated this. You fucking hated this.
Your chest tightens, and your knees weaken. You wanted to give in. He always had that power over you. He ruled your heart so effortlessly. You yearned for him, your heart singing a million love songs, beckoning him back to you.
But you couldn’t. You were too mad. You felt cast aside as if you were nothing but an afterthought—after all these years. Yet again, you feel the foundation of your home cracking, and your knees go weak yet again. You take a shuddering breath right before repeating the exact words he threw at you just a few nights prior—words that so effortlessly dismantled your spirit. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
-
You’ve always had a habit of running. It was easier for you than most. You figured you’d go back to that cheap motel in Tokyo, but you were too restless. Too angry. Feelings of betrayal ran deep, and the guilt nipped away at you until there was only a void.
Before you could leave, though, you call a number you knew by heart. Stepping onto the train and holding your phone to your ear, it rings. For a moment, you assume he’s asleep. It was getting late, but after the fifth ring, the line clicked. A groggy voice peaks through.
“Sensei? What’s going on?”
“Megumi,” you breathe out. “Hi. Sorry to wake you.”
“It’s fine.”
“Nozomi 1, departing from Tokyo and heading to Kyoto, will depart shortly. Please be careful of your footing while boarding. Please refrain from using mobile phone inside the train–“
“You’re leaving?” The tiredness in his voice is replaced by something else you can’t quite place.
“Only for a short while. It’s not like I’ll be working anytime soon,” you chuckled nervously. “But I just wanted to let you know. It didn’t feel right leaving without speaking to you first.”
“Oh,” is all he can muster up at first. “I– when will you be back?”
“I’m not sure,” you answer him honestly. “A few days, maybe.”
“Well… Can we visit you? I’d go alone, but I think Yuji and Nobora would kill me if I did.”
Oh. You hadn’t expected that. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Um, yeah. When I figure out where I’m staying, I’ll let you know.”
He sounds worried. “You don’t know where you’re staying yet?”
You snicker. “Ha, this is, uh, kinda an impromptu thing.”
“… and you’re sure alright?”
“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I just wanted to tell you.”
You can tell he’s not exactly satisfied, but he isn’t one to stop you. “Well, text me where you’ll be staying in a few hours. You should probably hang up now, though, and figure it out.”
You smile softly to yourself. He always was a kind boy—kinder than he’d ever reveal. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Goodnight, Megumi.”
“Night.. I’ll call you later. Be safe.”
When you hang up, you feel a bit better.
-
The first night was hard—really hard. Sleeping away from Satoru was incredibly difficult, but so were his sharp words that relentlessly bounced around in your mind. You found no peace by your window, watching the last of that day's sunlight slipping away behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the dead trees covered in snow.
You could almost feel his presence, like the cast of your shadow on a wall—following you, mirroring your every move. Your phone never rang with his ringtone, your phone never buzzed with a new text. Yet you stared at the shadows for a bit longer, a bit more intensely, waiting for two blue eyes to illuminate the space. They never did.
Kyoto's stillness seemed to reflect your own, waiting for something to change, waiting for something dead and wilted to bloom once more.
However, even all the way over in Kyoto, bad luck seems to follow you like the plague. You were walking to a small corner market to grab something to eat when you felt the disturbance in the air—tasted it on your tongue. You hoped that surge of cursed energy wasn’t what you thought it was. You would have loved to be proven wrong, but your instincts were keen like a hound trained to hunt.
A curse womb opened right above a Kyoto High school.
You were definitely getting fired after this.
You knew a cursed object was most likely responsible for this. Considering it happened at a school, you were more than willing to bet a strong cursed object was placed there, most likely intended to ward off any other strong curses that might otherwise appear in the area. You assumed the seal broke, probably after hundreds of years of suppressing the power of the object. You’ve dealt with a case like that before.
You couldn’t have been more wrong.
Three stupid students—ghost hunting of all things—removed the seal. The decorated white cloth tightly wrapped around a black skull was torn, and its viscous cursed energy soared, tinting the sky black.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you hissed under your breath when you slammed open the classroom door. “This way, c’mon!” You didn’t have to tell them twice. Book it, and you stay by their side for as long as you can. You had to put up your veil, but only after they were far enough.
You got impatient, however, especially towards the kid who had been recording everything up until now, where you crushed his phone in your hand.
“Wha– hey! You're gonna pay for that!”
“What the hell is more important? Recording or your fucking lives? Shut up and run!”
The air suddenly cracks with a tension that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s here. You could feel it—the dark, oppressive presence creeping across the courtyard, lurking. You yourself could see it with your eyes, but you felt it.
Your senses were better than most. It was partially why you and Yuji got along and trained together so well. You were just like him when you were younger. Granted, he wasn’t born with cursed energy like you were, but your heavenly restrictions were nearly identical.
You stop running when you reach the edge of the courtyard, but those three kids carry on in a scram. Holding the cursed object in your hands, you raise the skull in the air. It takes a considerable amount of force, but you crush the skull, black dust coating your hand. There’s a hollow screech, and you hope that’s the end of it.
Of course, your bad luck persists.
Typically, destroying the cursed object that’s created a cursed womb kills it or at least nullifies it. The exception is when the curse is an S-grade; those wombs are damn near impenetrable.
Destroying the object seemed only to irritate the curse as it began crawling out of a bloody sac.
You hold up your fist, index, and pointer finger together, pointing to the sky along with your thumb. A crimson veil pours down, covering the entirety of the school. However, you sense three others within your veil just as you seal off the area.
“Yo, Y/n sensei!! What the hell are you doing here, loca!” A deep laugh echoes across the courtyard.
Christ. You knew that voice from anywhere.
You glance over your shoulder and see a few unexpected faces. Utahime and two other students—Miwa and Todo who looks way happier than he should be, considering the circumstances.
The newly born curse loomed menacingly overhead, its red eyes gleaming like coals in a dying fire. It was tall, with protruding joints that snapped into place. Its black and sleek hair extended beyond its long, contorted body. Its face was painted white and cracked as if crafted of aged porcelain. Its kimono was white, stained with splashes of red and black goo. You stood firmly in place, fire crackling at your fingertips, your breath steady but sharp in the cold night air. Todo and Miwa joined your side quickly, and Utahime offered you a firm nod from the sidelines. She was entrusting you with her students.
Quickly, the courtyard became a battlefield, filled with the crackle of burning energy and the hum of raw power.
The curse lunged, zipping through the air. You were faster, your body twisting and moving with fluid grace. You raised your hand to strike, a jet of flame bursting forward, crackling against the air. The curse shrieked as the fire seared its back, black smoke rising from its melted skin.
It recovered too quickly for your liking. It rolled through the flames like water through a sieve, reforming and lunging again, its claws gleaming.
Your senses were on fire—every shift in the air, every sound, every movement was magnified. You could hear the heartbeat of the curse, the faintest tremor of its form as it coiled to strike. You could smell the thick, sour scent of decay that clung to it like an ancient smog. And you could feel it—the deep, heavy weight of power pressing down on you, making your muscles tighten and strain against the oncoming attack.
The curse moved to strike again, but you were already there, rolling beneath it, body twisting in a perfect arc, and feet hitting the ground in a spring-loaded motion that sent you leaping upward. Your fist, wreathed in fire, crashed into the creature’s chest.
The explosion of heat sent the curse reeling, but it was only a momentary distraction. It retaliated, slashing the air with a massive, clawed hand. Three energized strikes were headed your way. You reacted with seconds to spare, but Miwa stood directly in the line of fire. You knew her simple domain wouldn’t be summoned fast enough, but she didn’t. It would be a miscalculation that ended her life.
The claws tore through your side, then whipped down in a sickening arc, ripping clean through your arm. The pain came in an instant—a blinding, searing agony that burned through your body. You didn't even have time to scream.
You staggered back, a cry escaping Miwa’s lips as she looked at the bloody stump where your arm used to be. Blood poured and squirted from the wound, but there was no time for that.
"Get back!" you shouted to the blue-haired girl, voice raw. She wasn’t nearly ready for this; Utahime gravity overestimated her abilities or underestimated the cursed strength. Regardless, the girl was too distraught to do anything at this moment.
There’s a rush, and you suddenly realize you are outside the heat of battle. Todo went in, guns blazing, but you could only waste so much time. Todo was strong, way above his current ranking, in your opinion, but it was only a matter of time before that curse cut him down, too.
Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees. The pain was overwhelming, but you focused, drawing from the reserves settled deep within your core. Your energy surged, and tendrils of fire spiraled around the wound, filling the air with intense heat.
“Sensei! Are you alri–" Miwa gasped, her feet coming to a haunt as she watched in awe and terror as your arm began to regenerate—pulsing with energy. The flesh knitted itself together, bone and sinew reforming in a frenzy.
But the process wasn't easy and certainly didn’t come without a price to pay. Your body screamed, the regeneration draining your reserves. You were already weakened, and the battle had just begun. Tsk.
Todo found his way back over to you two, panting heavily. “How are you doing over there, Sensei?”
"Clap," you say, voice strained. "Now." He looked at you, bug-eyed, but he nodded. He didn't hesitate.
He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, and everything shifted. “Alright! Let’s dance!”
In an instant, you found yourself on the other side of the curse. You inhaled deeply, heart pounding, immediately launching yourself back into the fight.
The curse roared in confusion, disoriented, but it was too late. You were already in motion. Your feet hit the ground in a fluid motion, and with a vicious snap of your wrist, fire erupted once again. This time, it formed into a massive whip of flame that lashed through the air.
The curse hissed as the whip wrapped around its neck, and you pulled with your whole body. Never losing your grip, muscles straining, you move forward, wrapping the flames over your arm again and again, pulling tighter and tighter until you smelt the pungent odor of the burning flesh around its neck. You wrapped the whip around your arm one last time before turning your body and pulling the whip from over your shoulder, viscously yanking and slamming the curse to the ground and into submission.
The curse struggled, its body writhing, but it was weakened. Miwa went for the opening, summoning her New Shadow Style: Simple domain. She’s gotten better since the tournament, and you acknowledge with a grave chuckle as she instantly draws her blade, slicing the curse directly across its chest cavity. She cost you an arm, but deep down, you knew she had the conviction to win and succeed.
Todo doesn’t wait. Another clap. Another shift. You and Todo swapped places with the curse itself this time, and the curse had no time to react. He goes for a punch, cracking the curse with a quick jab, followed by a right hook. He claps again. The moment the curse materialized in front of you, disoriented, you surged forward, throwing everything you had left into one final strike.
It twisted in anguish, its body crumbling to the ground before its remains turned into ash.
Then, there was nothing.
The air grew still. The ground beneath you is scorched but calm. You sucked your teeth, silently berating yourself.
You hated using your technique. Frankly, you opted not to unless you absolutely needed to, which was the main reason why people hardly knew about it. It wreaked havoc, leaving nothing but indomitable infernos that refused to be quenched like normal flames. They left nothing destruction in their wake—hungry to consume and spread. However, you’ve gotten better at controlling it—you’ll give yourself that. The only thing burned here today was the grass in the courtyard.
You stood there for a moment, panting, your body trembling with exhaustion as you collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. “Y–you did it!” Miwa cheered. “I had no idea you knew RCT. Thank you for helping me back there.”
“What the– Miwa, we won! Show some conviction!” Todo cut in, flexing his biceps.
“He’s right,” you managed a weak smile as you worked on catching your breath and easing your fast-beating heart. You collapse to the ground, still gaining your breath. "We did it."
You hear footsteps approaching from behind. Tilting your head, you see Utahime standing directly above you.
“Oh. Hi ‘hime.”
She smiles a bit, but her face remains hardened. You straighten up a bit, catching on to her attitude. Something wasn’t right.
“You guys did a good job. However, another problem has arisen across the city.”
“Huh? Another one?” Miwa asked, brows tugging inward. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other. “That's like the fifth one today...”
They continue on in their conversation as you drop your veil, sniff the air, and concentrate on your surroundings. A sense of foreboding strikes you under the dark ambiance of the sky. Even after killing that S-grade, things don’t feel right.
“Thanks for joining us,” Utahime says, drawing back your attention. “I nearly had to call for backup.”
You scoff, glancing up at her from the ground. “Something doesn't feel right, Utahime.” She nods, agreeing with your observation. “When did the reports come flooding in?”
“About an hour ago now.”
“Hm,” you wonder, thinking back to when you first found the cursed womb. “That’s about the same time I first sensed the presence of the cursed womb. They’re most likely connected.”
“That's what I thought. The presence of the cursed womb must have irritated some of the curses in the city, most likely because they were drawn to the energy fluctuations the cursed womb caused. It's good you were here. We're stretched thin right now. If you don’t mind staying, we could use your help. The other students are out on missions across the city, and things just keep getting worse.”
You smile up at her before pushing yourself back up on your two feet, brushing the dirt from your pants. “Sure, let’s get going–” but as you stand, it feels as if a bolt of lightning strikes you down or as if your chest has been cracked open by a sledgehammer. The agony was too great to even scream as you fell to your knees and crashed back into the ground.
It was lights out.
-
It was quiet. Dark—a vast, unending expanse of nothingness that swallowed you whole. An endless drift. It would have almost been peaceful if not for the faint pull at the edges of your awareness, like an anchor trying to tether to something you couldn’t see.
But then came the first sound.
You heard voices—muffled cries. Please wake up, said one voice. Please stay with me, came another.
Pain began to throb somewhere in the background, dull and distant. Disembodied as if it belonged to someone else.
Don’t you dare leave me. The voice was sharp, demanding, cracking under the weight of fear. You knew that voice and remembered all the sweet things it used to whisper to you. Your heart takes a painful lurch. You can hear its occasional beat in your ears. We need you. I need you.
Oddly, you were cold.
You were drifting again, further and further. The anchor was slipping. You were sinking, your head hardly above water, when another muffled voice broke through—whimpering, sobbing. Your heart lurches painfully.
Mom, please don’t go.
The words pierce through the nothingness, shattering it all to bits and pieces. The words pull at you, a lifeline you hadn’t known you clung to and needed. Images begin to flash, and suddenly, the voices are no longer just voices. Your heart suddenly burns as though the memory of life itself is fighting its way back into you.
Your eyelids were heavy, limbs weak, unresponsive—cold. You were so cold, but it wasn’t enough to stop you from crawling out of a black pit that threatened to swallow you whole. There’s a faint sensation of pressure, a hand tightly gripping yours.
Light begins bleeding into the edges of your awareness. You sucked in a deep breath, lungs empty and greedy.
Then, your eyes fluttered open.
You blinked a few times, realizing how hard it was to breathe. Breathing was supposed to be an automatic response, but you had to force it, each breath dragging along the back of your throat like sandpaper. You’re weak and shivering as you use most of your energy to sit up. You were in an empty room, you realized—the sharp smell of sanitizer permeating your nose.
You push yourself out of bed, knees buckling under your weight. You catch yourself, gathering whatever bits of strength you have left. Your teeth clattered. You were freezing. Shaking, you wrapped the white blanket over your shoulders, gripping it tight before you trudged towards the door.
The hall was mostly empty, all except for a sleeping boy slouched over in a chair beside your door. Your heart squeezes.
“Megumi,” you whispered his name. You stare at him for a moment, unable to bite back the tears that nip at your dry eyes.
You wrapped the blanket around him, tucking it gently around him. However, he flinches, jumping straight up in his chair. “S-Sorry,” you tell him quickly with a watery smile. “You looked cold.”
“You…” the word was a raw and weak whisper. His eyes widened. It took a moment for recognition to settle in, but once it did, he spoke again. “You’re awake.” He stood up from his chair, and you stepped back, offering him space. “You’re awake,” he repeated again.
Then, you start to wonder just how long you’ve been out of it. Days? Weeks? The thought of months terrifies you, but before you can even go down that loophole, he’s hugging you tightly. “You’re awake,” he says once more, his voice breaking.
However long it was, he’s right. You’re awake. You’re here, living and breathing. You wrap your arms around his torso, patting and rubbing his back soothingly. “Yup… I’m here. I’m awake.”
You let him be the one to pull away, letting him take however long he needs. You enjoyed it regardless. You couldn’t remember the last time you hugged him.
When he pulls away, his eyes are red. He sniffs a bit, backing up and taking the blanket off his shoulders. This time, he’s the one wrapping the fabric around you. He’s frowning a bit as he does. “... you’re the one that’s cold,” he notes quietly.
“What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” He asks softly, brows furrowing.
You shook your head. No. Frankly, you didn’t remember much of anything right now. “I was on my way with Yuji and Nobora. We got on the train after you let me know where you were staying.” That’s right. You texted Megumi when you figured out where you’d be staying. You thought they’d come over sometime in the following days. You had no idea they were rushing to see you on the next available train.
He places his hands awkwardly on your shoulder before gently guiding you to the chair he was sitting in moments ago. As you go to sit, your body seems to forget how to move for a moment, and you lose your balance. He catches you quickly, carefully helping you down into the chair. “When we got to Kyoto, we realized quickly how bad things were over there. We started helping out at the Kyoto school, dealing with the curses that had been lingering in the area where the cursed womb opened up. Eventually, we ran into Todo and Miwa. They told us what happened.” He grunts, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with you.
You’re silent for a moment. “How long was I out for?”
“Pushing four days now.”
The memories strike you like a fright train. “Are you okay? Is everyone alright?” You hadn’t realized you had reached for his cheek.
He grabs your wrist, thumb gently caressing the back of your hand before pulling your hand away, guiding it back to your lap. He moves the blanket until it's covering you again. “We’re all fine. Everything’s been dealt with. Yuji and Nobora went down to the cafe to grab some lunch. They’ll be thrilled when they come back.”
You tilt your head. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
He smiles a bit. “I didn’t want to leave you unattended.”
You don’t know what to think. You’re just happy you’re back. Happy because he was happy. You always hated it when he worried about you. You never believed it was his job to do so. However, he stayed by your side and protected you when you couldn’t protect yourself.
You wiggle your toes and roll your shoulders before standing again. “You shouldn’t be standing–”
“I’m alright, I promise,” you tell him, dismissing his concern. “I just want to walk around, okay?”
He stares at you intently, unsure, but he seems to have no energy to argue with you. “... alright,” he relents.
He follows you closely as you drag your feet across the floor. You don’t know where you are walking, but you want to stretch your legs and regain a sense of your body. You are weak, but you need to move.
You ask the question you were too hesitant to ask: “What about Gojo?”
He huffs. “He left a little while ago. Said he’d be back shortly,” he scoffs. “Bullshit if you ask me.”
“Megumi,” you sigh his name with a soft reprimand.
“He should be here,” he responds disgruntledly. “He should be by your side, and he’s not."
You stay quiet. You’re not exactly sure what to say to him when you agree. Maybe Gojo was done. Whatever this was, whatever relationship you had—maybe he didn’t want you anymore. You look ahead, fighting your own body that threatened to collapse at any moment. You could feel Megumi’s eyes on you, but you didn’t have the heart to look at him right now.
You were afraid you would sob if you did.
Though you had never walked these halls before, the hospital's layout was quite easy to catch on to. After taking a fourth right turn, you see your room in the distance. A stubborn part of you says to keep going and keep walking, but the exhaustion is catching up to you quickly. If Megumi hadn’t been by your side, cautious eyes scanning you, you might have kept going until you passed out. You realize that the strength you had was nearly depleted. Only trickles of your cursed energy remained, and it would be a long while before you gained it back.
You hear footsteps behind you. Quick and ushered. Megumi turns before you, his whole frame tensing. He sucks his teeth and clicks his tongue. “So he finally shows up.” He speaks in a sardonic tone, loud enough for anyone in the hallways to hear.
Satoru comes running from around the corner then, taking deep breaths. Your brows slightly pinch together in confusion. “S–Satoru,” you stutter, walking closer. “When did you get here?” He looks disheveled. Alarmed. Was he just running?
It was hard trying to figure out what he was feeling or experiencing when that black eyeband covered his eyes. However, you noticed the bouquet in his hands, a delicate combination of soft and tender hues: pale pink and roses, white peonies, deep pink lilies, and baby’s breath delicately wrapped along sprigs of greenery.
You place a hand on Megumi’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go eat with the others?”
“But–”
“I’ll be alright,” you explain to him in a soft tone.
He hesitates, torn between staying and leaving. He was unsure if he should leave you to handle this alone, but after a moment, he backed down, probably realizing he shouldn’t stand between the two of you and what needed to happen. With an irate glance shot at Gojo, he turns, pocketing his hands as he makes his way to the stairs.
Only when the door shuts do you look at Satoru again.
He stays unusually quiet, his face unreadable. Frankly, it was rather unsettling. You had no idea what was going through his mind. “I–I’m sorry!” you blurt out the first words that crash to the surface of your mind the moment you see him in his entirety. There was no hope of holding back. After days spent away from him, lost in his absence, and days dancing on the edge of death, the words tumble out of you before you can stop them—unbidden, unstoppable. “For everything. Y–You must have been stressed with work and other things. My fuck up only added to your plate. I get it, ya know? It's selfish of me, even now, to rely on you so much when there’s a whole world that needs you. They are not my students, and I put them in danger.” Quickly, the tears gather in your waterline again, but you blink them away. “I–I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll… I’ll go. I’ll get out of your way, and you won’t have to deal with me bothering you any longer–”
“Can I touch you?” The question comes suddenly, softly, and almost hesitantly.
You blink a few times, puzzled, but then, you unravel, folding inward under the weight of his voice. Your breath hitches in your throat. Was he still holding onto what you had said that night? Was he haunted by the barriers broken and the others so carelessly assembled?
He still wanted you?
You didn’t want him to let you go. Not yet. Not ever.
Like a dam breaking, you surged forward, closing the space between you two. Seconds later, you feel his resolve crumble. He crushes you to his chest, flowers falling to the floor. His arms enveloped you with a force that robbed you of breath, your feet nearly coming off the ground as you both stumble backward. Trembling, he clung to you as if you were an anchor in a world that threatened to tear him apart. There were no words—the unspoken agony and grief were far too overwhelming to put into words—if there even were words for it.
I’m sorry. I love you. I’m glad you’re okay. You felt it all with him. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, hear its frantic rhythm match your own.
His hands were shaking, one tangling in your hair, the other wrapping entirely around your frame and squeezing your hip. He buries his face into your neck, and his hot breath is ragged and uneven as he inhales your scent. “I thought–” he swallows, shaking his head. “I didn’t know where you were—for a second time.”
Your cursed energy was low, more depleted than it had ever been. It explains why you were so weak, so frail. When he saw your empty bed, he must’ve panicked. He ran to you, anxiously following the weak traces of your presence.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, and the familiar silk of his eyeband rubs against your skin. You gently tug at the fabric with the tips of your fingers. His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he stills as you slip the black band from his face. He lifts his head just enough to rest it against yours. They were that same stunning shade of azure—bright and impossibly vivid, glowing softly as if they carried the remnants of a forgotten star. Captivating, otherworldly, yet achingly human—something he’d often forget from time to time.
“You promised,” he murmurs, voice broken. “You promised.”
“What are you talking about?” you ask just as brokenly.
Suddenly, one of his hands grasps your neck, and you choke on your words. He doesn’t squeeze tight, but the look on his face is enough to make you gasp. “I couldn’t feel you. I couldn’t feel you anymore,” he says achingly.
Your chest tightens, nails slightly digging into his forearm. You open your mouth to speak, failing more times than succeeding. You wanted to speak, but the words lodged in your mouth.
“I–I don’t understand.”
“You’re not wearing it anymore,” he murmurs, his nose brushing softly against your cheek. The necklace you always wore—his gift to you, the one that held a part of him, a part of the two of you—was gone. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, an absence that gnawed at him like hunger, an emptiness he could never satisfy.
His voice wasn’t angry, far from it. It wasn’t even harsh, but something in it—a quiet desperation—made the air between the two of you quiver.
“You promised you’d never go where I couldn’t follow,” he whispers again. “Remember?”
You nod in his hold, tightly pursing your lips together when a few tears escape, dripping from your eyes. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours again, gazing deep and unwavering into your eyes. I remember. His grip on your neck loosens until he removes his hand from your throat completely, gentle fingers pushing down your shirt's fabric. His fingers trace your skin, the empty spot where your necklace once laid.
Then, it suddenly hits you. “Oh.”
He could feel you as much as you felt him. If you were ever too far from him—out of the range of his sight, out from where his hands could reach for you, that necklace was a beacon, a beckoning, a lighthouse in the storm that guided you home—guided him home.
You squeeze him tighter. You missed him. You really missed him.
“How did you find me?”
He takes a moment to breathe, trying to settle the rapid beat of his heart. “Utahime.” He wheezes out a pained laugh. “She called me panicking once you collapsed. I got there as quickly as I could.”
You copy his laugh, albeit coughing a bit from the pain blooming in your ribs. You hated to admit it, but the longer you stood, the more your body began to hurt. “I should just heal myself and get this over with.”
“Don’t,” his grip tightens on you again. “you’re using it wrong. There’s damage, lots of it,” he tells you, wiping at the blood that had stained your skin at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Any more and–” his eyebrows furrowed deeply, the weight of grief and guilt tugging his features. The corner of his lips tightened. “Shoko operated on you for hours. You nearly died.”
He sees what others cannot, his gaze piercing the surface to something deeper, something raw. He sees the world through an entirely different lens, and right now, the sight of you seems to pain him dearly.
For a moment, you wonder just how much damage is hidden within you and how much it must weigh on him to see it. “Shoko might have gotten you out of the woods, but she told me you’d need a few more rounds to get you back to normal.”
“That makes sense,” you murmur, allowing your entire body weight to ease into him. He accepts you with open arms. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Or twenty.”
“I missed it,” he utters, voice thick with regret. “If I had just looked a bit closer, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I fucked up. I could’ve prevented this.” His careful grip on you tightens as if you’d slip away from him once more. “But,” his tone softens. “You did so well. You took care of that cursed womb before I could even get to the scene.” Even through his pain and wallowing, his heart swells. He was proud of you.
He bends down, grabbing the flowers he dropped before moving towards you again. “Oh gosh,” you hide your face into his neck as he reaches down, one arm hooking under your legs as he lifts you. You don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m definitely fired, aren’t I?”
He carefully guides you back into your room. He manages to toss your flowers on the counter by the window. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’ll handle it. ‘Kay?” He places you down on your bed, but he hesitates, not wanting to fully pull away.
Your eyes flicker, recalling the night of your augment. You knew this was the reason behind his haunted expression. You recognized the torment because you, too, had felt it. “You’re mad,” he observes relatively quickly.
You didn’t want to bring it up. You weren't necessarily mad, not anymore, but even near death couldn’t make you forget the pain he had caused with words he so carelessly struck you down with.
“What you said… Hurt me, Gojo,” you look down at your hands, feeling selfish for even bringing this up after nearly dying. However, you knew this conversation was inevitable. “Even if you were right I felt cast aside. Useless. Why didn't you tell me you felt that way before?”
“No… don’t say that. I was being stupid. I over reacted. I know you'd always protect those kids and that's exactly what you did. You’re not weak or a nuisance, or... convenient.” you flinch at the word. “You’re far from that. I need you to know that.”
“...Then what am I?”
“Everything,” he shudders. “You’re everything.” His lips brush over your forehead, your cheeks, and eyelids, each kiss tender and lingering. But then he pauses, his smooth lips hovering just above yours. He’s always been so confident, so self-assured. You’re unsure how to react.
You were sitting on your bed, feet dangling just above the floor. He is leaning over you, one large and warm hand on your thigh, the other cupping your face gently. He was close, but not close enough. Even bent at the waist, his height keeps him just out of your reach unless he leans back down just a bit more…
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, giving him all the assurance you have to offer.
You were hurt, but you still wanted him.
You still loved him.
His mouth was warm and soft—testing the waters and treading carefully. His grip on your thigh tightens until–
He lets go. You feel the tension in his body dissipate, and finally, he allows himself to fully enjoy you—taste you. The kiss deepens, and you swear it brought life back into your frail body. He overwhelms you now in the most delicious way possible. Your toes curl, and your tight embrace eases. Your arms go weak, your hands moving to run down his chest, his taut muscles quivering in the wake of your touch. Every moment was a promise, every brush of skin a new vow. No words were spoken, but you both heard everything that had been held back, everything that had been left unsaid.
I’m sorry.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
He smiles against your lips, but you don’t stop or pull away, catching and nipping at his bottom lip. Then, you kiss him again, slotting his top lip between yours. “You really love me, huh? Hehe.”
Oh. You hadn’t realized you said it—whimpered murmurs against his lips. No wonder why he looked all dopey and smiley.
“You’re not going to make me grovel for forgiveness?” He pecks your lips again. “This seems too easy. I know you’re still mad.”
You chase after his lips. “Of course, I’m still mad,” you mutter against him. “But I thought I would never see you again.” Even as he frowns, you pepper his lips with kisses. “Plus, it's not like you to grovel.”
“I would for. Only for you, of course.”
You giggle, nipping his lip a little harder. “Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “I’d like to see that.”
Oh no. You’ve made a grave mistake. You knew you messed up again the second the words fell from your lips. There’s a glint in his eyes now.
“Oh, my beautiful, angelic Queen! I know I have displeased you. Please accept my humble apologies!” You squeak at the suddenness of his actions. He sinks to his knees dramatically, and his palms meet the dirty floor, and so does his forehead. “I am at your mercy! I have failed you greatly, and I wish to make amends.”
You swat him on the back of his head, but it's not nearly enough to hurt him or deter him from whatever this is. “Gojo! Don’t bow like that! Get up!”
“But I can’t!” He whines. “You must forgive me! I will spend eternity on my knees if it means I can regain your favor, my perfect, beautiful, divine Queen. You alone rule this sinners heart!” He inches forward on his knees, squeezing himself between your legs. His hands find homage on your waist as he nudges his face into your stomach.
Your eyes roll skyward. “Only you could apologize and insult me at the same time, Satoru,” you grumble, looking down at him before running your fingers through white stands.
Suddenly, he looks up from this position, resting his chin right beneath your ribs, grinning ear to ear. “You called me Satoru~”
You feel your face flush, heat gushing to your cheeks and ears. “Shut up. You’re such an idiot. Can you get up now?”
“Nah,” he says lazily, burying his head into your stomach again. His voice comes out muffled. “I’m trying to make amends with my Queen. Let me, will ya?”
You ease, realizing you won't be able to stop him from doing what he wants. Even if it was a bit theatrical, he was doing his best—you know that because you know him. You let your nails gently graze his scalp as you continued to pat him. He hums, almost purrs, as your other hand finds his shoulder, squeezing him gently before running your fingers under his shirt, caressing his skull and the taut muscles in his back. A beat of silence passes, but you find yourself uncaring.
You had him back in your arms. That’s all that really mattered to you right now.
“Look, I know… I know I messed up,” he begins, voice so low, you nearly miss it. “I’m not great at this—saying the right things. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was stressed. I was fed up with the higher-ups and fed up with my missions, but that’s no excuse. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. You deserve better than what I was giving you. I’m gonna try to be better… for you. For us.” His words hang in the air a bit awkwardly, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. It couldn’t be missed. He shifts a bit, moving to kiss your belly. Then, his large hand wrap around yours, guiding your hand closer to his lips. He kisses the back of your knuckles tenderly as if the act of his apology could never be enough.
“You want me to stay?”
He squeezes you tighter. “Of course I do. What would I be without you?”
“Hm. You’d still be Gojo Satoru. Even without me.”
“I don’t want to imagine a life without you,” he mutters. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow. I've already told you that…”
“Don’t say that,” you whisper sweetly, patting his head. He nudges his head further into you. “The world will always need you.”
“I will always need you. So please… stop talking like this.” He pinches your side, making you squeak. Finally he looks up, an unimpressed expression gracing his features. “And don’t ever leave the city to get away from me. When you told me you were going to a hotel, I thought you meant in Tokyo.”
You chuckle nervously, looking elsewhere. “Yeah… Sorry about that.”
“Next time, take a walk or something. I dunno, go touch some grass if you get tired of me.”
A small smile escaped you, followed by a quiet laugh that shook your shoulders. You pat his back three times before kneading him softly. “Okay, humble peasant. You've groveled for long enough. Now lay with me,” you demand him. “I want you to lay with me. I’m so tired.”
“Psh. I’d hardly fit on this bed.”
“Whatever,” you tell him, scooting over. “I’ll make room. Get in, string bean.”
He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”
It’s a bit awkward at first with his lanky form, but he makes it work. It was a tight fit, and his feet slightly dangled off the bed, but he made no objections. With your back to his chest, he held you against him securely.
“You’re cold,” he observes out loud when you start playing with his fingers. It’s a bitter realization, a deafening one on his part. You know it bothers him, especially as he wraps the blanket around you tighter.
He tries not to let it show. However, he quickly becomes restless and you know he isn’t sated. He begins to move. “Let me go get you another blanket.”
“Nooo. Stay here.”
“Huh? But you’re freezing! And you’re never cold!”
“I’m already warming up!” You intervene with a small giggle, tugging him by his jacket. “Just shut up and lay with me, already.” He hesitates before unbuttoning his black jacket. When he was determined, there wasn’t any stopping a man like him, and right now, he was determined to get you warm.
He lays his jacket over you, spreading the fabric out, smoothing away all the wrinkles, and making sure you're covered. It might as well be a blanket with how long it was over you. Bonus points because it still carried him warmth and smelled like his cologne. A blend of earth and wood with a hint of something darker—smokey and smooth. You always loved the scent. Whenever he walked by, it brushed past you like a gentle breeze over still water, warm and inviting, with subtle notes of leather, musk, and vanilla.
He grunts a bit before easing into the bed again. “My little icicle- ow,” you shot your elbow back, getting him right in the ribs. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He chuckles, before wrapping his arms over you one more. He brushes your hair from your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He kisses you there once, twice, three times before saying something familiar.
“I could sense when you left Tokyo. I didn’t know what to do. Even with my eyes, I couldn’t find you. You were just gone. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow." He kisses your neck. "Please.”
You turn around, searching for his lips. He melts into you once again, squeezing your side sweetly. “I promise,” you murmur. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow,” you say, voicing back the same promise he made you. He smiles faintly against your lips.
When you woke up the next morning, your necklace was there. It was back where it belonged, sapphires resting gently over your steady beating heart—carrying Satoru’s silent promise.
Wherever you go, that’s where I follow.
-
a/n: I honestly don't know how I feel about this but if you made it to the end I hope the nearly 18k was worth reading. If you couldn't tell its based off the song Die With A Smile. Honestly, I think I might have been happier by making this a bit longer and flushing out some of the scenes more, but I was trying new things and I was excited to post my first jjk post :) however its getting late now but if there's any typos or errors I notice later I'll edit as needed.
anyways, if you'd like to see more gojo x sorcerer!reader let me know! also I really hoped you liked the bits I added with Megumi (he's just a smol bean).
likes and reblogs are always appreciated! :p
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#𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
thank you all so much for 400 followers. i really didn't think that i would reach so many people, so i made a special for you. also i can't reply to my comments on my posts or any but i appreciate them. enjoy!
husband!gojo who can't stand being away from you for so long. he's on his day off and he makes sure to spend every single second close to you just so he can admire you and whisper praises in your ear.
husband!gojo who takes you out on dessert dates. whether it be ice-cream, cake, milkshakes, whatever mood the both of you seems to be in. he stares at you with loving eyes while you enjoy the dessert you got and wipes any smudge on your lips or cheek.
husband!gojo who doesn't let you pay for anything. he was not gonna let you send the money that you worked so hard for to buy something that you can get with his money. he shares his personal info with you but does not wanna hear about yours. and he always insists you use his card otherwise, you'll be arguing infront of the cashier for more than ten minutes until you finally give in.
husband!gojo who caresses the ring on your finger everytime you hold hands with him. he does it unconsciously too as you talk about your interests.
husband!gojo who sometimes just can't believe that he's married to the most beautiful woman in the world. he can't help but kiss you out the blue when you're together because you're lips were just so tempting.
husband!gojo who's known to be someone who never shuts the fuck up and interrupts people when they're talking but not when it comes to you. he could just listen to you talk for hours on end because he just lives your voice and is genuinely interested with what you're saying. he also hates it when someone else interrupts you and so speaks up for you.
husband!gojo who loves posting pictures of you on the daily. be it pictures he took of you or selfies you sent with captions like "isn't my wife just so beautiful", and it could be a picture of you drooling in your sleep. but when he reads the comments and finds some creepy guys saying inappropriate things, he's gonna let them know just who they're dealing with.
husband!gojo who comes up with the dumbest nicknames to give because he thought they were cute when he's literally calling you "his cute little drooler" and "his sweet scumdilly yumyum cupcake" but he often times calls you "baby" or "princess" if he's not in a very silly mood.
husband!gojo who showers you with gifts when he returns from long work trips because he believes that you deserve the best. but when you tell him, that the greatest gift he has ever given you was coming back to you without fail, he has tears in his eyes as his heart swells and pulls you into a big hug and says, " i'll always come back to you love... always"
#comments and reblogs are appreciated
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Gojo Satoru has practiced being your New Year’s kiss since he was seventeen. Which, honestly other than being damn embarrassing, makes Gojo think he might just be cursed - because something always happens.
When he fell asleep and missed the strike of midnight the first year, Gojo didn’t think much about it.
Then the second year, he was fighting a curse - a stupid New Year’s curse, at that. Who the hell is afraid of the New Year? Gojo can think of only one thing he’s afraid of, and that’s his New Year’s resolution to finally confess his feelings for you and oh, okay he kinda gets it.
The fifth he took one (1) shot of vodka and was down for the count (Gojo has sworn off the yucky stuff ever since, they only made his throat burn and his mouth babble about you more than it really should).
And hm, is he crazy or is he seeing a pattern?
The seventh he can’t even remember, because you’re going through some breakup with some stupid bastard and all Gojo really cares about is taking care of you, and breaking that loser’s face.
But that’s okaaaay - he always has next year, right?
At least, that’s what he tells himself - has always told himself until the year he was twenty-eight. Snickering at those wolf whistles and jeering eyes as he drags you away - and it’s the perfect romantic set-up. Gojo would know, he planned it.
Right up on the roof with only the stars and you. One hand placed on your beautiful face to lean in close and-
Ah, you two bump foreheads. But it’s the perfect New Year’s kiss at exactly 12:03AM, despite that. It’s not how he imagined it - honestly, he was somewhat conjuring up fantasies about being 90 and still playing this little song and dance of his heart with you. But, that’s okay.
He always has next year.
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two letters
↳ summary: after two weeks apart, Gojo comes home to a surprise—your love, permanently inked into your skin.
→ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x fem!reader
→ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff
→ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: tattoo mentioned. unprotected soft sex. nothing crazy tbh.
→ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k+
Nerves you hadn’t anticipated began to bubble up, weaving their way through your chest and settling just beneath your skin. They were spurred on by the text sitting on your phone:
“10 minutes out. See you soon. I love you.”
Two weeks. Two long weeks without Gojo Satoru, two weeks in a bed that felt impossibly empty without him sprawling across it. Seeing him again after he’d been away was always exciting—but this time, there was an edge of nervousness that made your hands clammy and your mind spiral with doubts you knew weren’t real.
Your fingers hovered over the soft fabric of your shirt, pressing lightly against your ribs where the new addition to your body lay hidden. It had been an idea you’d toyed with for months, one fueled by Shoko’s persistent reassurances that Gojo would love it, that it was exactly the kind of thing he’d appreciate. Her encouragement had been the final push you needed, convincing you to do it while Gojo was away on one of his longer missions.
You’d planned everything down to the smallest detail, keeping it secret for weeks, and now, as the faint hum of his cursed energy swept through the apartment and the sound of his key turning in the door filled the air, you realized the moment was finally here.
Gojo Satoru was nothing if not consistent. The moment he stepped through the door, he dropped his bags unceremoniously by the entrance and came looking for you, the one reason he didn’t mind coming back from a mission, the one reason this place felt like home. You felt his presence before you saw him—a ripple of cursed energy that always seemed to announce his arrival—and then his arms were around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.
His lips found the side of your neck, brushing a soft kiss against the exposed skin just above the neckline of the sweatshirt you wore. His sweatshirt, really.
“Hey, you,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips as your hand moved to rest over his forearm. It was impossible not to smile when Satoru was involved. “Mission go okay?”
“Mhm,” he hummed, his lips trailing lazily up and down your neck, each touch slow and deliberate. “Missed you.”
Your fingers reached back instinctively, tangling in the soft strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. “Missed you too, Satoru,” you murmured, voice warm and steady. “Always.”
He smiled against your neck, his lips brushing just below your ear before pulling back. His hands slid to your hips, gently tugging you, silently asking for you to turn toward him. You didn’t hesitate, shifting to face him, and the second you did, his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow, steady, and all-consuming, reminding you exactly why every long mission, every restless night without him, every aching moment spent apart, was worth it.
It was worth it because Gojo Satoru loved you. He loved you in a way you once thought was impossible for someone like him, someone so untouchable, so larger than life. He loved you in a way you never thought possible for yourself, in a way that felt like it had been pulled from a story, something too good to be real.
But it was real. Gojo Satoru loved you deeply, with everything he was. He loved you with an intensity that could both quiet the noise of the world and fill it with endless laughter. It seeped into the cracks of your life, filling spaces you hadn’t realized were empty. He loved you loudly, in ways that made your heart race, but also quietly, in the moments when his care spoke louder than words.
Gojo Satoru loved with a kind of intensity that could make your head spin, unrelenting and unapologetic. He wasn’t subtle—subtlety wasn’t in his nature. He’d pull you into his arms without warning, spinning you around just to hear you laugh, or press endless kisses to your face while you half-heartedly swatted at him, knowing it would only encourage him.
He’d take every opportunity to be close to you, tangling himself around you on the couch during movie nights, even if it meant he barely watched the screen. Sometimes, he’d lean in far too close while you were in the middle of a task, resting his chin on your shoulder and grinning as he distracted you with some ridiculous joke or a kiss just behind your ear. Satoru loved loudly, with every part of him. It was in the way he intertwined your lives so completely that it was impossible to tell where his affection stopped and your happiness began. He never gave halfway—it was always all or nothing, and with you, it was always all. Being loved by Gojo meant being smothered in warmth, in laughter, in his ever-present need to remind you, in a thousand ways, that you were his whole world.
Gojo’s hands slipped under your sweatshirt, his touch warm and unhurried as his lips captured yours in a kiss that left no space for doubt or hesitation. His fingers brushed against your skin as he pushed the fabric higher, pausing just long enough for you to pull back and let him tug it over your head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.
His mouth found your neck again, hot and deliberate, his hands steady as he guided you onto his lap at the edge of the bed, your legs wrapping around him like it was second nature. His fingers ghosted over your skin, tracing up your sides, brushing over your back, and then gliding back down in a rhythm that made your breath catch. His lips moved lower, trailing over your collarbone, leaving gentle nips that sent a shiver down your spine.
“I… did something,” you murmured, your voice soft as your hand combed through his snowy hair. His lips stilled, and he pulled back, blue eyes locking onto yours, curious and patient.
“For me?” he asked, his voice tinged with playful disbelief, though his expression softened as he searched your face. Gojo could wait forever when it came to you—especially when you were perched on his lap, his hands steady on your thighs, your cheeks flushed in a way that made his heart stutter.
You nodded, taking a breath, but instead of standing up or moving away, you shifted slightly, your fingers drifting to your ribs. Gojo’s gaze followed, and his playful smirk faded the moment he saw it—the delicate ink etched into your skin, just beneath your breast.
Gojo shifted forward, his hand hovering hesitantly before his fingertips brushed the delicate addition to your skin. The touch was so light you almost didn’t feel it, but then he did it again, this time with a little more pressure, as if grounding himself in the reality of what he was seeing. His other arm curled securely around your waist, pulling you close as his eyes focused on the small, black script etched into your ribs.
Just two lowercase letters—that was all. A single lowercase g and a single lowercase s. Simple, yet it was so much more than that. It was for him, a tattoo for him, because of your love for him. Or maybe, really, because of his love for you. No one loved you like Gojo Satoru did. It was the kind of love that made you believe it couldn’t have been an accident. You were certain you’d loved him in lifetimes past, and you’d love him again in lifetimes to come, because no one could love like this without practice.
His breath caught, and for once, he was speechless. His hand reached out, tentative and reverent, as his fingertips brushed over the tattoo again, slower this time. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, his wide-eyed wonder making your chest tighten.
“You…” he finally started, his voice soft and unsteady in a way you rarely heard. “You did this… for me?”
You nodded, the movement small and almost hesitant, your eyes searching his face for a reaction. His breath caught again, and his hand, still resting lightly on your waist, tightened just slightly, as if anchoring himself.
Gojo’s gaze dropped back to the tattoo, his fingertips brushing over the ink with a reverence that made your chest ache. He didn’t speak again for a long moment, his wide-eyed wonder making it clear that, for once, the words weren’t coming easily. Instead, he traced the delicate letters over and over, his touch warm and deliberate, like he was trying to etch the memory into himself as deeply as the ink was etched into your skin.
“I love you too,” he said finally, his voice low and uncharacteristically soft.
Too because that’s what this told him so clearly, without a single word spoken. Too because you’d marked yourself with his initials, a permanent reminder that no one else could ever hold your heart, though he’d always known that to be true. Too because no one had ever loved him as effortlessly or as completely as you did, and Gojo was determined to make sure you knew how deeply he cherished the way you loved him.
Gojo’s eyes lingered on the tattoo, his fingers tracing the delicate letters like he was trying to memorize every curve and line. Then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed you, soft and deliberate, pouring all his unspoken gratitude into the connection.
You kissed him back, your hands cradling his face as his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. It wasn’t until your fingertips brushed his cheek that you noticed the dampness there. Slowly, you pulled back, your breath catching at the sight of a tear sliding down his face.
A tender smile tugged at your lips as you brought your thumb to his cheek, brushing the tear away gently. “Baby,” you whispered, the word filled with so much warmth it made his breath hitch.
He let out a soft, shaky laugh, leaning into your touch, his hand still firm on your waist. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low but steady, full of meaning. “So much.”
You pressed a kiss to his forehead before his lips found yours again, this time with more urgency. The kiss was deeper now, his grip on your waist tightening as you shifted in his lap. When your hips rolled against his, a low groan escaped him, muffled against your mouth, his hand pressing you down, encouraging the movement.
Gojo Satoru didn’t just love you—he showed you in every touch, every kiss, and every quiet moment. It was overwhelming, consuming, and so uniquely him, leaving no room for doubt that you were his everything.
Gojo’s lips trailed along your jaw, down your neck, and across your collarbone, unhurried and deliberate. He was never one to rush moments like this, savoring every touch, every kiss, every second he could have with you. His mouth moved lower, pressing soft kisses over your chest until he reached the tattoo. His fingers brushed against the ink as his lips hovered over it, and he mumbled something, his voice low and nearly inaudible.
You caught fragments—half-formed “I love you’s” that spilled out like they were too big to stay trapped in his chest. His lips pressed to the tattoo once, then again, and again, as if he was trying to make his love sink deeper into your skin, becoming another part of you.
“I need you, baby,” you murmured, your fingers threading through his soft hair as you gently pulled him back, reminding him that you were still in his lap, ready for more than just his kisses.
His lips curved into a smile against your skin before he looked up, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I need you too,” he whispered, his voice rough and full of want.
You fumbled with your clothes together, hands reluctant to leave each other’s skin even as you tried to shed the layers between you. When you finally managed, Gojo pulled you back into his lap immediately, his hands finding your hips as though they belonged there. His lips were back on your neck, his fingers gently kneading your skin as he whispered, “I love you,” against your shoulder, over and over, like a mantra.
His hands guided you as you placed yours on his shoulders, lifting yourself just enough to let him align with you. His breath caught as you slowly sank down, your hips meeting his in a motion so deliberate it made his eyes flutter shut. For a moment, he didn’t move, letting himself feel everything—the warmth of your skin, the way you fit so perfectly with him, and the overwhelming love that seemed to buzz in the air between you.
When his eyes opened again, they met yours, pupils blown and lips parted, every ounce of his love for you written across his face. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his hands tightening on your hips, grounding himself in you as you both began to move together.
Gojo’s hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you in a slow, deliberate rhythm on his lap. His touch was strong but teasing, pulling you forward, then pressing you back, encouraging you to move exactly the way he wanted. His mouth was relentless, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach.
His lips found yours first, the kiss deep and dizzying, stealing the breath from your lungs before he moved to your neck. His tongue and teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, pulling soft, broken moans from you that he drank up like they were his favorite sound. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction.
He kissed lower, his lips brushing across your collarbones, lingering there in a way that made your head tilt back, your hands tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. His groan vibrated against your skin, his hands starting to wander, no longer content to stay still.
His fingers skimmed over your thighs, kneading the soft flesh before sliding up your hips, pressing into your skin as if trying to leave a mark. They trailed to the small of your back, where his touch had you gasping and arching into him, then down your arms, brushing over your wrists and tangling with your hands in his hair.
“God, you feel so good,” he whispered, his tone rough and needy as his lips returned to yours, claiming you in another kiss that left no doubt about what he wanted.
All you could feel was him—his touch, his lips, the heat of his body pressed against yours—and all he seemed to want was more of you. The way he whispered your name, the way his hands gripped and slid over your skin, told you he wasn’t going to stop until every inch of you was his tonight.
“I love you, Satoru,” you whispered, your voice catching as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that he undoubtedly felt.
His head dipped lower, his lips trailing over your skin until they found the tattoo that had already become his favorite part of you. He kissed it softly, reverently, like it was a sacred promise made just for him.
You didn’t have to say you loved him again—not in this lifetime. It was there, inked into your skin, a mark that said it all. It was a message for him and him alone, a declaration that your love was as endless as his, something he would carry with him forever.
His hands slid over your body, one brushing against the tattoo as if grounding himself in the reality of it, the other slipping between your bodies. His touch was slow but deliberate, fingers teasing until they coaxed a gasp from your lips. His lips returned to your neck, murmuring soft words about how beautiful you were, how perfect, how much he loved you.
“Satoru,” you moaned, your fingers gripping his shoulders as his movements sent you spiraling. You felt the tension building in his body, the way he was unraveling with you, and the realization only heightened your own release. His name tumbled from your lips like a prayer as he whispered yours against your skin, his voice low and breathless, grounding you both in this moment.
When it was over, you collapsed against him, your face pressed into the crook of his neck as you caught your breath. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice softer now, his lips brushing against your temple.
“I love you so much, Satoru,” you replied, your voice steady, filled with the weight of your emotions.
“I know,” he said, his tone serious but tender. It wasn’t arrogance—it was certainty. He understood the weight behind the two small letters forever etched into your skin. He knew this wasn’t a fleeting love or the kind you’d given to anyone before him.
Your love was his anchor, a safe harbor he could return to no matter what storms came his way. It was a promise, a forever mark that would hold him together when the world threatened to pull him apart.
And in return, Gojo Satoru loved you in every way he could—with his words, his touch, his whole being—but most of all, he loved the way you loved him.
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— husband!gojo's randomness.
୨୧ slight ooc, reader is a female, sfw, fluff, hcs (?), inspired by this fic.
husband!gojo, the guy who sneaks a kiss on your forehead before leaving for a mission, prioritizing your peaceful rest over a goodbye.
husband!gojo who always leave a "i love you more than yourself!" note before going to work, stick it on the fridge intentionally while you're sleeping. lets you know when he leaves for work early, just so you won’t feel panicked when he's not around (it's the opposite, really).
husband!gojo being a secretly sentimental husband - always keeping the cutesy letters you tend to give him when he's away rather than texting him.
husband!gojo who's keen on sprawling all around the bed, but demands for cuddles.
husband!gojo secretly sets up sweet gestures for his wife, ranging from heartfelt notes to surprise vacations. he claims it's all about her deserving it, yet it's clearly an excuse to show off.
husband!gojo, the type of husband to hold your hand with his, intertwine the fingers together, and put it inside his pocket as you guys walk under the beautiful night.
husband!gojo who purposely slips and calls you "princess" in front of others, especially in public gatherings/events.
husband!gojo who will make anything turns into a competition like turns daily chores into a playful rivalry.
despite his usual extravagant personality, husband!gojo takes his wife's concerns seriously. let it be work stress or personal issues, he may not always have the perfect response, but he's always there, ready to listen and comfort her.
husband!gojo who makes fun of you in the sweetest, most loving way, whether it's poking fun at how you look while drooling or your height, his eyes will always hold affection.
husband!gojo who knows that his lateness might also serve as a way to stir up reactions - especially yours. and when you're lightly mad at him, he'll claim he's searching for your heart, ridiculously. "i'm not joking around here, okay, i thought i will find your heart anywhere here."
husband!gojo, the husband who's into buying the plushie you longed for, without telling you that he actually knows you liked them. he's very attentive with everything you want.
husband!gojo, a husband figure who exudes confidence around others, but when it's just you two, he's the most caring and thoughtful version of himself. you could ramble on until his ears can't take it, but he'd stay by your side, no matter how much you yap.
every time someone flirts with you, husband!gojo casually says, "mine," with a small smile. letting them know that this woman is his.
husband!gojo, the type to makes sure you're always within his line of sight, even amidst a room full of strangers.
husband!gojo who messes with your hair in the morning, claiming it's "adorable" even though it's a mess.
husband!gojo whom brain is always flooded with nicknames ideas for you - constantly give you random ones like "my little snuggle nugget" for no reason at all.
©66ejna all rights reserved. do NOT repost & copy my work.
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nanami kento - heavenly by cas
contains; hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending, right person wrong time, gege is an evil psychopath, jjk s2 spoilers!!
"giving you all my love"
the song is undoubtedly a love song. anyone with even a slither of literacy would be able to decipher that. the lyrics are straightforward and clear, leaving no space for any other interpretation. thats how nanami kento loves you. so transparently, that anyone around who didn’t see it must’ve had all 5 of their basic senses stripped away.
"because this is where i want to be, where it's so sweet and heavenly"
kento knew immediately the day you graced him with your presence, that he was done for. every single will in him considering continuing jujutsu was gone, just like that. you were the wind, and he was the leaf. vulnerable and caught off guard, he flew the way you took him. thats why, just after getting down on one knee before you, he swore himself that the mission in shibuya would be his last.
"and when you're far away, i still feel it all the same."
you curse the world around you for taking him away, your beloved, the love of your life. he hates himself for not being strong enough to come back to you, deems it an unforgivable sin that he left you with only a shiny silver band on your ring finger and a promise he couldn’t fulfill.
but you’re not mad at him, you understand. how could you not? how would you not, when everytime you visit his gravestone, you still feel the same familiar warmth in every part of your being, still so blatant and unmistakable even underneath all that grief.
its especially strong on one of your daily visits later that year when you pull out 2 tickets to malaysia, putting one right infront of his headstone through blurry eyes and a wobbly smile and then it's like he never left. and thats because he never did and never will, always watching over you and yearning for the day he can finally feel your heartbeat against his again, the day his touch doesn’t always go straight through your body like a hologram.
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Yuji stood just outside your and Nanami's home… his knuckles hovering over the wooden door, hesitant to knock. Each breath he took formed clouds of fog that hung in the air. He could feel it as he stood, felt the weight of his body and the chill that enveloped it. It felt heavy... Everything felt so impossibly heavy...
The silence that greeted his knock felt different, more final. Peeking through the window, he could see how still everything was, how quiet the house was for once, your usual playlist was absent, leaving an emptiness that seemed to echo…
“Ohh~ Why hello there young man~!”
A fragile voice had startled him from his thoughts. It was an elderly woman that emerged from behind the large rose bushes you and Nanami had planted together just last spring. She was small, barely reaching Yuji’s chest, her weathered hands trembling slightly on her cane as she shuffled closer. Her eyes held so much warmth- so much kindness and excitement that made Yuji’s chest tighten.
“If you’re looking for Mrs. Nanami, she left in quite a hurry this morning~!” her voice quavered with joy, unaware of how each word drove daggers into Yuji’s grieving heart. “I’m not certain where Mr. Nanani is, but oh i do hope he made it in tim-”
“Please!” Yuji’s voice cracked, panic clawing its way up his throat, “Is she alright!?” His hands shook as images of curses and blood filled his mind of the worst possible outcome, “Where is she!?-”
“Hush now, dear child,” The old woman's face softened into a gentle smile, “She’s at the hospital just down the way. The baby decided to come early!~” She clasped her hands together in delight, “I can hardly wait to see them come home- all three of them together! If it’s a boy, he’ll surely have his father’s handsome features!”
Yuji felt the world tilt beneath his feet. He bowed his head, shoulders hunched as if to shield his face from the truth he carried… Every word this woman spoke was another weight added to the crushing truth of what he knew- of what he had to tell you… His fingernails bit crescents into his palms, drawing blood he couldn’t feel though the numbness.
“Kento’s always been so quick to be by her side you know? it’s strange he wasn't there this morning, but ohhh~ I’m sure he was already at the hospital waiting for her~” The woman's voice continued, distant now, as if coming through water, “It must be nice having such a man like that, heavens sake, just last week when she was struggling with groceries he help-”
Her voice faded into the background as memories flooded Yuji’s mind… How Nanami would adjust your scarf while the three of you were out on cold mornings, the way his usual stoic expression softened at the edges when glancing your way… The way his hand would absentmindedly touch your growing belly, as if to reassure himself you and his unborn child were still there… And now, because of one moment, one curse… he would never meet his child. Never know if they had his eyes, his smile, his quiet strength or your features and kind heart…
At the hospital, through the crack in the door, Yuji saw how you were curled around your newborn daughter, your finger caught in her tiny grasp. The golden sunset painted you in a warm light, and despite your exhaustion, you were absolutely glowing…
“We did it, Kento,” your whisper carried through the door, “we have a beautiful baby girl.” Your smile, so pure and unaware, shattered what remained of his composure. “Hurry back from your mission so you can meet her… We’re waiting ♡.”
Outside your hospital room, Yuji stumbled back, tears burning trails down his cheeks as he bit his lip until it bled, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to break free. How could he tell you? How could he destroy this perfect moment with the truth that Nanami- your Kento, your daughter’s father- had been torn apart by a curse… How could he explain that your “waiting” would be eternal…?
He couldn’t. Not yet…
As he wandered the hospital halls, he noted all the beautiful details Nanami had ensured would surround you during this moment. The butterfly sanctuary, the library, the gardens. Even when it came to you birthing his child, Nanami had thought of everything- had wanted everything to be perfect for you.
When Yuji finally entered your room, you were sleeping, your daughter nestled against your chest- a mother and child portrait of serenity. He noticed how your daughter’s wisps of hair caught the moonlight, the same shade as Nanami’s… The sight drove the air from his lungs. His body finally giving in and collapsing into the chair beside your bed, Nanami’s final moments- final words replaying in his mind… “You’ve got it from here, right? And please, watch over them.” followed by the visceral memory of blood spraying across the walls, of flesh tearing, of a good man’s last breath given to the thoughts of the family he’d never see again.
“Mmn’ Y-Yuji?” Your voice, still heavy with sleep, froze him in place, his heart stopping as your eyes fluttered open. “M’where’s Kento?”
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your daughter’s first cry- as if she somehow knew, somehow felt the weight of what was about to destroy her mother’s word forever… Yuji’s throat closed around the words he couldn’t say, tears spilling over as he faced the impossible task of telling you that Nanami Kento would never come home again… And then he saw it- watched how realization dawned in your eyes as the blood stained necklace with Nanami’s wedding band slipped from his pocket…
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I’ve been wanting to read a short-ish story for the longest time and this passed every single one of my expectations. Chefs kiss, exquisite writing, I don’t know how to move on from this 🩷 read it !
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰. 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭 (𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘺) 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵–𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.
𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘕𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘉𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘞𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 (𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘴𝘧𝘸)
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩?
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘈 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘐𝘯 𝘔𝘺 𝘛𝘶𝘣 (𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘧𝘸)
𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘸?
ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘛𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 (𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘭 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘧𝘸)
𝘈 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘺 𝘈𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 (𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘧𝘸)
𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭…
𝘈𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘈𝘵 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘳 (𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸)
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘖𝘧 𝘔𝘦𝘯 (𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴)
𝘉𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴. 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨?
𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 (𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴)
𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮. 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳… 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦?
ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘴𝘵 (𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘗𝘖𝘝 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘚𝘍𝘞)
𝘈 𝘒𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘈𝘵 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘊𝘰𝘴𝘵? (𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴)
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰. 𝘈 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘭𝘥-𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵?
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘞𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 (𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵)
𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘐𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?
𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 (𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳)
𝘈 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥?
ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 𝘛𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 (𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘖𝘝 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘳𝘴 𝘔𝘤𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 - 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰’𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘳)
𝘏𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘌𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘯 𝘜𝘯𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 (𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴)
𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥... 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥?
𝘈 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 @satorini 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴.
𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘥! ₊˚⊹♡
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imagine a honeymoon on the coasts of malaysia with nanami.
he’s just retired as a sorcerer after the whole shibuya incident, finally deciding to splurge with all his jujutsu money. the location he’s been praying to go to for years and the woman he’s been dying to marry, both fulfilled at the same time. what more could he ask for?
he tries not to show it, but his excitement is so obvious with the constant drumming on his thighs and occasional squeeze of your hand. his gaze would catch yours, his hazel eyes piercing through you with nothing but pure adoration. the moment you land at the airport, kento does nothing but bring you to all the locations he’s saved on his phone. it tires you, but his happiness is contagious. having him by your side is the only method of recharging you need.
as selfish as it sounds, being the only person to see this side of him felt like all his love just went crashing down on you at once.
from the day you first met, the moment he went down on one knee, the moment he cried for you at the altar, to now- caging you in his arms with only the vast ocean in front of you. in all 28 years of living, you have been the only person to bring kento total tranquil.
and now, he can finally enjoy every moment with you. spend the whole day in bed with you, no alarms from any higher-ups; travel under the sun and shop little antiques for your new home. he feels giddy seeing the baby clothes on sale. you spot it too and laugh seeing his eyes set on the row of tiny onesies. you feel him flinch when you pick one up. it’s a light shade of green, bearing some resemblance to kento’s hair. you hold it up, “should we? as a little souvenir from this trip.”
he’s never brought out his wallet this fast. never in his career did he think about being able to have kids- it was too dangerous to even imagine. but seeing you reciprocate the yearning for a little human with your blood gave him the push he’s always needed. curse or not, kento swears to keep both of you in his arms reach, and to die happily knowing you’re safe.
that night in particular was the definition of intimate. you held each other close even after it was all over. he never let go. if possible, kento brought himself closer to you with only the intention to feel your touch.
to feel your fingers running through his hair, to wrap his arms around the outlines of your waist, to hear the heartbeat in your own chest, and to see the face of the only woman he’ll spend his lifetime with. a dream that seemed so impossible to achieve- complete in under a month.
being able to look forward for the time he has with you, rather than the days he has without you, is the one wish that never left his heart.
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I can be whatever you want me to be
Satoru x reader
Not my art :)
Tags: Fluff, Toru is a flirt, pre relationship, he asks you on a date
Comments are really appreciated 🦋
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You were halfway through your lunch in the teachers' lounge, enjoying the rare moment of quiet. The faint hum of the fridge and the occasional shuffle of papers from another teacher filled the room. You took a bite of your sandwich, savoring the peace, when that all-too-familiar voice broke through the stillness.
"Y/nnnnn," the drawn-out syllables of your name hit your ears.
You sighed inwardly, already knowing who it was without turning around. That unmistakable mix of nosiness and smugness could only belong to one person.
Gojo Satoru.
You turned in your chair to find him standing there, his signature white hair falling lazily into his face. He was wearing his sunglasses today, and for a split second, you begrudgingly thought he looked good like that. Of course, he always looked good—annoyingly so.
"Yes, Gojo?" you said, trying to keep your tone neutral.
His lips tugged down into an exaggerated frown, as if you’d personally offended him. "Call me by my first name."
You rolled your eyes but relented. "Yes, Satoru."
His expression brightened immediately, like a child who’d been given candy. "Can I sit next to you?"
You blinked at him, caught slightly off guard by his politeness. Still, it wasn’t like he ever really needed permission to do anything. "Sure, Satoru," you replied, gesturing to the seat beside you.
He plopped down with a grin, setting a bag on the table. You watched, curious and a little wary, as he reached in and pulled out... half of an actual cake.
You stared at the decadent dessert in disbelief. "Where the hell did you get that?" you asked, your tone somewhere between incredulous and resigned.
"And why?" you added, gesturing vaguely at the ridiculous amount of frosting and chocolate.
He didn’t miss a beat. "Why not?"
You opened your mouth to protest, then closed it again. It was Gojo—there was no point in overthinking his antics. He was... what he was.
Shaking your head, you muttered to yourself, "Don’t overthink it."
Gojo, oblivious to your inner turmoil, grabbed a fork and dug into the cake, humming happily. "Want some?" he asked, offering you a bite with a playful grin.
You just gave him a look, wondering how this man managed to stay so skinny.
“So, Y/N, whatcha been doing?” Satoru asked, casually leaning back in his chair as he shoveled another forkful of cake into his mouth.
“I’m eating,” you replied flatly, gesturing at the half-finished lunch in front of you.
He rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. “I mean, duh. But, like, with life. Cat, dog… goldfish, boyfriend?”
That made you pause. Satoru Gojo was many things—nosy, annoying, borderline insufferable—but taking an interest in someone else’s personal life? That was new.
“I have a cat,” you said cautiously. “But, uh, it actually ate my goldfish.”
“And the boyfriend?” he pressed, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity bordering on concern.
You hesitated, but his gaze—though obscured—felt unrelenting. “I don’t have one anymore,” you admitted with a shrug, trying to keep it light.
Satoru blinked. “Wait—your cat ate your goldfish?”
You stared at him. “That’s what you’re hung up on?”
“Never mind.” He waved a hand dismissively. “What happened to the boyfriend?”
You found it hard to be annoyed. He was nosy, sure, but there was something oddly endearing about his persistence. “He took a break,” you said, then added with a wry smile, “Permanently. So, he’s not in the picture anymore.”
Satoru tilted his head, clearly trying to piece something together. “He was a sorcerer, I’m assuming? What grade was he?”
“Uh… he wasn’t, actually,” you admitted, already anticipating his reaction.
As expected, his expression twisted, just slightly, into something resembling disgust. “What were you doing with him, then?”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Does the Satoru Gojo have something against normal people?”
“No, no,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “It’s just… it doesn’t make sense. A semi-special grade, Grade 1 sorcerer like yourself, dating someone who can’t even see curses?” He stopped mid-thought, shaking his head. “Never mind. Sorry, that was rude.”
Your laughter bubbled up again, surprising even you. “Wow, I didn’t know you could be self-aware.”
Satoru grinned, a genuine, slightly bashful one. “Now look who’s being rude.”
“Touché.”
“For the record,” he continued, waving his fork at you, “I don’t have anything against normal people. They just… I don’t know how to explain it.”
“They don’t fit into your world?” you offered, meeting his gaze.
“Something like that,” he murmured, his tone unusually serious.
For a moment, the two of you sat in an easy silence, his words hanging in the air like a quiet truth neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the seriousness melted away as Satoru leaned forward, his mischievous grin returning.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “you gonna finish that sandwich, or are you offering it to me?”
“Do you want the rest of it?” you asked, eyeing your sandwich as you took a sip of your drink.
“Yeah,” he said, his mouth still full of cake. “Can I have it?” He didn’t even wait for an answer, reaching over as if he owned the whole table.
“Sure, Satoru. I’m done anyway.” You passed it to him, watching as he eagerly took a bite.
“So, I’m assuming you’re not going out with anyone, huh?” He said between bites, not even looking up.
You felt the weight of his presence but, oddly enough, you weren’t intimidated. Not by him. Not by anything. You shrugged. “No,” you replied. “I’m not.”
He nodded like he was solving some great mystery, and you took another sip of your drink. Then, out of nowhere, his voice dropped low, pulling your attention back to him.
“Sooo… will you go out with me?”
You nearly choked on your drink, sputtering in surprise. “Mmm… what?”
“I said,” he repeated slowly, as if talking to a child, “will you. Go. Out. With. Me?” His grin stretched wider, smug and full of expectation.
You blinked at him. “I… uh… huh?”
Gojo rolled his eyes, clearly done with your confusion. He pushed his sunglasses down, just enough for you to see those ridiculous, piercing blue eyes. "Oh, am I not your type?" he teased, leaning closer, his grin turning into a knowing smirk. "Come on, tell me what type of men you like, and I'll be that guy."
You had to admit, he was exactly your type, but the fun of teasing him outweighed that. “So you can be my type?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Mmmm-hmm,” he nodded, not even a second’s hesitation. “Whatever you want, babe.”
You smirked, deciding to play along. “Well, I like pretty boys.”
“Check,” he said immediately, sitting up straighter, clearly pleased with himself.
“Hold your horses,” you said, holding up a finger. “I also like tall guys.”
That made him pause, his chest puffing out proudly. “Check again.”
“Okay…” You leaned forward, keeping that teasing edge in your voice. “I like guys who are sensitive.”
Gojo’s smirk faltered for a moment, then he scratched the back of his head, looking almost sheepish. “I can be whatever you want me to be… but that one’s gonna be tough. I’ll try my best though.”
“Is that so?” you said, enjoying this a little too much. “What if I told you… I like dumb guys. Sweet but dumb, you know?”
He blinked. Then, after a beat, he broke into a loud laugh. “Oh, I can be dumb if that’s what you want, baby.” He shot you a wink. “Dumb as a rock. Sweet as sugar.”
You leaned in, keeping up the game. “And what if I told you… I like guys who do what they’re told?”
His grin widened, dangerously so. He leaned toward you with that cocky, unstoppable energy. “Babe,” he started, voice dripping with a teasing, confident tone. “I’d stab myself in the eye with an ice pick if it meant you’d go out with me. You want me to? I’d do it.”
You smirked, eyeing him playfully. “Oh, is that so? Don’t you need your six eyes to be Satoru Gojo?”
Gojo burst out laughing, pushing his sunglasses up to his forehead. “Well, I got two,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh along with him. Despite all his arrogance and showmanship, there was something genuine underneath it all.
“Alright, alright,” you said, trying to control the grin that was fighting its way onto your face. “I’ll think about it, but no promises.”
“Oh, you don’t need to think about it,” he said, tapping your arm lightly with his fork. “I’m everything you’ve ever wanted, trust me.”
“I’ll even let my Infinity down for you,” Gojo said casually, as though he was offering you a snack.
You froze for a moment, blinking in disbelief. Did he just—?
“If you want,” he added, leaning back in his chair, that confident grin never leaving his face. But there was a soft, almost teasing edge to his voice that threw you off.
“Is that so?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual. The thought of Gojo lowering his Infinity, something he never did for anyone, made your pulse spike.
His smirk turned into something more playful, almost childlike. "Yep, just for you," he said, leaning in slightly, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. The proximity only made your heart beat faster. Why does he have to look so good when he acts like that?
You hesitated for a moment. You had never touched him before, not really—his technique was always up, an impenetrable barrier. But now… now he was letting you.
You barely had time to process what was happening before he reached out and took your smaller hand in his much larger, warm one. His hand was surprisingly soft, the skin almost glowing under the fluorescent light. He guided your hand carefully, slowly, until it was resting in the place between his jaw and his neck. The sudden contact was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until his other hand came up, pulling off his sunglasses, revealing his striking blue eyes that had a soft, almost vulnerable gleam to them.
"Pretty please?" he said, his voice dropping a little lower, his lips curling into an exaggerated pout.
You were losing control of your thoughts. His skin felt so warm, so inviting, and you swore you could feel the electricity between you. His eyes—those ridiculously pretty eyes—held a vulnerability that you’d never seen before, and it left you speechless for a moment.
Then, without thinking, your other hand reached out over the table, the need to touch him overwhelming. You placed your hand gently on the other side of his face, the coolness of your skin contrasting with his warmth, and you couldn’t stop yourself from tracing his features. His jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, the soft line of his lips… You were so focused on him that you almost forgot to breathe.
Gojo’s breath hitched, and you felt the slightest tremor under your fingertips. His eyes fluttered, and for a split second, you saw something in them—a flicker of surprise, of something deeper. Then he seemed to snap back into himself, gently moving your hands away from his face.
“Okay, okay, stop manhandling me now,” he said, his voice still teasing but with a touch of bashfulness you’d never heard from him before. He held your hands in his, his grip firm yet gentle. His hands were ridiculously large, distracting in their own way, and the way they held yours made you feel like you were the one being handled.
“But,” he added, his smirk returning with full force, “if you agree to go out with me… I’ll let you manhandle me as much as you want. Please?” He punctuated his sentence with an exaggerated pout, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous, and yet somehow endearing, it was.
You stared at him for a long moment, your heart racing in your chest. Is this really happening? Your hands were still held by his, and the warmth of his skin, the softness of his touch, made your head spin.
You finally sighed, your fingers tightening in his hands. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies threatening to take over. “Yeah, I’ll go out with you, Satoru.”
His eyes lit up, and for the first time in a while, his usual over-the-top confidence seemed to soften. He smiled, genuinely this time, and leaned closer, his forehead brushing against yours as if he couldn't contain his excitement.
“Finally,” he muttered, almost to himself, before his grin returned in full force. “I knew you couldn’t resist, babe. You’re just too smart to say no to me.”
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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a symphony of silence
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ synopsis: if you want to know what it’s like to love someone who was never yours, ask gojo satoru.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags/warnings: angst, unrequited love, crying, happy ending, talks of soulmates
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc: 5.5k
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: thank you all so much for 1k followers!! I appreciate every bit of love and support I have received and I hope with this new year, I can make you all happy with my work. :) this is just a little thing, but I really hope u guys enjoy it. as always, have a wonderful day and eat well!
The days feel brighter with you.
No amount of paperwork, miscalculations, messed up orders can change the light you bring into his life. The moment he met you, he knew it was strange. Feeling himself being reeled in like a fish too quickly scared him. But if you asked him that question, he’d never admit his fear.
His smile had a mind of its own, curling up in a subconscious way whenever you so much as spared him a fleeting glance. And when you smiled at him? He was on cloud nine. His heart beat faster and stomach fluttered like a little schoolboy when he was in your vicinity.
But he was always careful. So careful, too careful. Like the way someone treads lightly around a fragile thing they can never keep. You were so full of life, so innocent in your joy, and he was nothing but a darkened silhouette in the background.
He knew what you deserved, and it wasn’t him. Not a man like him, burdened with secrets and a past he couldn’t shake off. And you? You were meant for someone who could offer the world, not someone like him who could barely provide anything but a fleeting moment of warmth.
He had a way of slipping into your presence unnoticed, his longing buried deep within the corners of his chest. When he laughed at your jokes, it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing through him, of knowing just how badly he wanted to be more than a passing acquaintance. He wanted to reach out, touch your hand, but the words always died in his throat, swallowed by the fear of your rejection.
He knew the truth, though. You would never see him as he saw you. You would never feel that electric pull, that magnetic force that lured him to you in ways he couldn’t explain, ways he would never allow himself to. Because it would hurt too much, to love someone who didn’t even know.
The days grew brighter with you, but in the back of his mind, he could feel the darkness creeping in. He was just a shadow in your life, and nothing more. And it was enough for him, even if it meant living in a love that would never be returned. As long as you were happy. As long as you smiled. That was all he could ever ask for. He sometimes joked with himself about just saying ‘fuck it’ and getting down on one knee for you. He would.
Too bad his best friend had the balls to do it before he did.
He saw it coming, of course. You and Suguru have been together for five years. He was there through every phase of your growing relationship, a background character in a main couple’s story. It’s why he felt guilty about his feelings—his thoughts. But he always justified it with a he knew you first.
He watched the way Suguru could make you laugh with the simplest words, how your eyes lit up when he held you close. It was the kind of love that made the world feel like it had all the right answers—answers he never had. He shouldn’t be pining after you. You were Suguru’s, and the world had made that clear. But there was always a part of him that entertained the what ifs. He was there before Suguru, before the smiles and the promises, before the certainty of love that seemed to hold you two together like a force stronger than gravity.
And yet, here he was, helpless. Watching you slip further away, like sand through his fingers. You were so easy to love, and so impossible to have.
He’d gotten good at keeping his distance. At laughing along with Suguru’s jokes, at pretending to be happy for the both of you. But inside, it was a constant ache, a pain that never went away, no matter how many times he buried it under a mask of smiles and camaraderie. He wondered if you ever noticed the way he looked at you. The quiet longing that always seemed to flicker in his eyes when you spoke. But you never did. How could you? You were too wrapped up in the love you had with Suguru to ever see the way his heart twisted with every word you spoke, every touch you gave.
But maybe, just maybe, he could keep pretending. Keep pretending that your happiness meant more than his own. Because that’s what love was, right? Sacrificing for the one you cared about, even if they never knew the weight of it.
“Are you happy, Satoru?”
Your question was simple enough, but you really had no idea just how much weight it held. Not like he would tell you. His head tilts, playfully smiling. “Happy? Why do you ask, hm?”
“I’ve just been wondering…” you mutter, tracing your glass rim with a manicured nail. Looking up at him in such a way that makes him want to wrap his arms around your body and hold on tight. “I don’t want to be invasive, but sometimes it just feels…faked.”
Huh, so you’re not as oblivious as he thought you were.
But your words hit him like a cold wave, a shock to his system. You had no idea. You never would. The smile on his face falters for just a moment, yet it’s enough. Enough to make him feel like he’s exposed, vulnerable, like you might see right through the layers he’d spent so long building up.
Faked.
That word stings more than anything else you could’ve said. Because, in some twisted way, you were right. He had spent so long pretending, so long wearing a mask that even he had begun to forget what it was like to feel anything real. What it was like to want something for himself, to let someone in without fear.
He takes a slow breath, his gaze softening, eyes flicking to the side, pretending to consider the question. “I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice is casual, a practiced indifference, but inside, his heart is pounding.
You don’t buy it. You never did.
“I don’t know, Satoru. You always seem so… distant. Like you’re somewhere else, even when you’re here.” There’s a hint of concern in your tone, but it’s laced with a careful distance, as if you’re treading around something fragile.
He swallows hard, the weight of your gaze digging into him. You see it, don’t you? The cracks in the armor he’s so carefully constructed. The loneliness he hides behind every joke, every flirtatious smile.
But he can’t tell you the truth. Not when your words have the power to break him, to shatter everything he’s built up around himself. He can’t show you how deeply he cares, how much he wants to reach out and make you see him for what he truly is—just a man who’s afraid of losing something he’s never had.
He laughs, a little too loud—a little too involuntary. “I’m just a little busy, that’s all. Life’s a bit chaotic, but I’m fine. Really.”
Even so, you still don’t look convinced. And for a split second, he wonders if you’ve figured it out. If you can see the way his heart aches every time he’s near you, how badly he wishes things were different. How badly he wishes he could be the one to make you smile, make you laugh, in a way that wasn’t tainted by his unspoken feelings.
However instead, you just smile softly, a quiet understanding in your eyes. For just a moment, he thinks maybe you’ve known this whole time. Of course, he’ll never make you aware of how much that question, those few words, broke him inside. Not now. Not ever.
He can feel the cold of your engagement ring pressed against the back of his palm, looking over at you with parted lips, raised brows. Your expression is soft—too inviting. He almost can’t take it anymore.
Your entire being brings him in, wrapping around his soul like a warm blanket on a cold night. Your eyes can hold a thousand different meanings, but so can your touch. The world blurs into a fade when it’s just you and him, like it always does. He can see the fireworks, feel the softness of your skin against his.
He wants you so much.
It’s a quiet ache, a longing that starts in the pit of his stomach and spreads like wildfire, burning him from the inside out. He’s so close to you now, the air between you two charged, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken desires.
Your breath catches as you watch him, and it only makes things worse. It’s as if you’re reading him, sensing the intensity of the pull that draws him to you, even though you shouldn’t. Even though you’re promised to someone else. But for a moment, it’s just the two of you in this space, and everything else ceases to exist.
His heart races as he subconsciously leans in, just a fraction of an inch. Like a man on the edge of something dangerous, something he knows he shouldn’t want, but does anyway. His fingers twitch against your wrist, the ring there a painful reminder of the distance between what is and what could never be.
You shift slightly, a small motion, but it’s enough to send a jolt through him. You’re so close now, your warmth seeping into him, your scent intoxicating. In a single brief and fleeting instant, he wonders if you feel the same pull, if you’re as caught in the web of longing as he is.
Just then, you blink; and the spell is broken. You pull back just enough. The correct amount of room to create a sliver of space, he feels his heart sink. “I…” Your voice is barely a whisper, as if you’re struggling with the weight of the moment too. But he knows what’s coming. You always have that hesitation, that gentle reluctance when it comes to him.
He swallows, the words caught in his throat, but the truth is too painful to speak. He can’t admit how much he wants you. He can’t admit that, despite the ring on your finger, despite everything that keeps you apart, he’s falling for you in ways that have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with his heart.
“I know,” he whispers finally, his voice low, barely audible, because it’s the only thing he can say without completely shattering the fragile barrier that keeps everything in check.
When deep down, in the part of him that refuses to let go, he wishes with everything he has that you could see him. That you could feel what he feels.
That you could love him, just once, the way he loves you.
He puts on his usual smile. He knows you see through it now, but there’s no point in hiding it. There’s no point in hiding anything anymore, is there? “I know,” he repeats.
The words fall heavy between you, thick with unspoken truths, and yet, they feel like a fragile lie. He laughs again, but it’s different now. Not the carefree expression he usually wears, but one edged with something raw—something too real for either of you to ignore. He knows you see the cracks. He knows you feel the tension and the weight of everything he doesn’t say. It makes him ache in ways he can’t describe. You’ve always seen him, better than anyone else, better than he ever allowed anyone to. And even now, when the distance between you is palpable, when everything about this moment screams to turn away, neither of you can.
You’re still staring at him, your eyes warm but searching. You want more. You want to know what’s behind that smile, what’s behind the guarded words, the silence that screams louder than anything he’s ever said. You want to see through the layers, even when he’s terrified of what you might find.
Except that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? He’s terrified. Terrified of losing you, terrified of the vulnerability that comes with loving someone so completely. Terrified that you’ll slip away from him, like everyone else does.
“Satoru…” Your voice trembles slightly, hesitation lingering in the air like an uninvited guest. You want to say something, but you don’t know how. You want to reach for him, but you know the consequences. The space between you both feels endless, a chasm that neither of you can cross.
He really can’t keep pretending anymore.
His smile falters, his eyes dimming as he finally lets go of the pretense, removing the silence hanging in the air. He feels the weight of your gaze on him, steady and knowing, and something inside him breaks.
You know. You always knew.
“I don’t want to hide this anymore,” he admits quietly, his voice strained, his chest tight with the confession. It’s not a declaration of love, not yet. However, it’s the closest thing he can give you right now—the truth, raw and painful. He’s not sure what you’ll do with it, if it’ll push you further away or bring you closer, but the honesty feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time. He waits for your response, his heart hammering in his chest, terrified of the silence that follows. Because no matter what happens next, he knows that something between the two of you has irrevocably shifted. And there’s no going back.
When you look away from him, he gets his answer. With that, he laughs softly to himself in understanding. Not even needing to hear your soft words—whispered apologies. Because at the end of the day, he knew what would happen.
He’s not mad at you for it, how could he be?
You’ve always been his anchor, even if you couldn’t see it. Even if he was just the one who stood in the background, quietly waiting, hoping for a moment like this. He knew that in the end, it would never be him, and somehow, he had accepted that. But it doesn’t make the ache any less painful, the hollow feeling in his chest where something once burned bright.
You’ve always belonged to someone else.
The way you look away, the way your fingers subtly twist the fabric of your shirt as if you’re gathering the courage to speak, tells him everything. You don’t need to apologize for anything. He knows. He always has.
But it doesn’t stop the weight from pressing down on him. It doesn’t stop the way his heart cracks, just a little bit more, with every moment that stretches between you both.
He should leave. Walk away before it hurts too much. Yet something keeps him there—something that’s always kept him tethered to you, even in your silence. Once more, he chuckles quietly. The sound is bitter in the back of his throat. He puts his smile back into place, masking the storm brewing inside. “It’s okay,” he says softly, almost as if he’s reassuring himself as much as you. “I get it.”
His voice is steady, but there’s a quiver that betrays him, a flicker of pain he can’t hide. You’ll never know just how much it stings. How it feels like something vital is slipping away, piece by piece. But he won’t show you that. Not now. Not when he knows you’re already carrying your own weight.
And so, he stays. Silent, distant, as you both continue to navigate the space between what you want and what you can’t have. No matter how much it hurts, he loves you. In the quietest, most agonizing way possible. And that’s enough for him, even if it will never be enough for you.
“Just…don’t leave me.” He mutters, almost like he doesn’t want to get the words out. He’s aware of the fact that he’s pushing more than he should—biting off more than he’s being given.
You gulp, biting the inside of your cheek. A silent second passes before you nod. “I’d never let you go.”
When he’s walking back home that night, the air feels more suffocating than usual. His apartment—too big for one—is cold. Walking to his bedroom, not bothering to strip himself of his clothes as he plops down onto his bed. Staring up at the ceiling with a melancholic smile. Feeling a prickle of tears hit the corners of his eyes. They don’t fall—not yet. He swallows hard, but the lump in his throat won’t budge.
He should be happy, right? At least you didn’t leave him completely. Nonetheless, the promise in your words doesn’t feel like solace; it feels like a bandage over a wound that will never fully heal. He chortles, a hollow, bitter sound that fills the emptiness of the room.
That’s probably the nicest way he could’ve been let down. For some reason, it hurts more.
Extremely more than he thought it would. Somewhere along the lines, he may have even somehow convinced himself that maybe—just maybe—things could be different. But of course, they weren’t. They never could be. The optimism in him is dying.
The silence in his apartment is deafening, and in the quiet, his mind runs wild with every memory of you, every moment that he convinced himself meant more than it did. The way your voice eased when you spoke to him, the way your eyes lingered just a little too long. He had built up those fleeting moments into something real, something that could have existed in another life, in another world. However now, reality has slammed into him with brutal force, leaving him breathless and broken.
He curls his fingers into the sheets, his chest tightening. He wants to scream, but the words stick to the back of his throat. Instead, he lets out a long, shaky breath, the weight of everything settling deeper into his bones.
Tomorrow, he will smile again. Tomorrow, he will pretend everything is okay. So tonight, in the darkness of his room, it can just be him and the stabbing pain of unrequited love.
It’s so difficult because it’s more than he can bear. Even dreaming is not an escape from you.
He lies there for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling, the darkness of the room closing in around him. His thoughts are a whirlwind—too much, too fast, all at once. He feels like he’s drowning in them, unable to pull himself out. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling the covers tighter around his body, as if they could shield him from the cold ache in his chest. The memory of your words, of the softness in your voice, keeps echoing in his mind: “I’d never let you go.” You hadn’t meant it the way he wanted, the way he had hoped. You had meant it in the kindest way possible, but all it did was reinforce the distance between you two. You couldn’t love him. You couldn’t be with him—not the way he needed you to be.
He tries to push away the thought, but it lingers, gnawing at him. The weight of knowing that you would never truly leave him, that you’d always be there. Still, never in the way he wanted. It cuts so much deeper than he could have imagined. It’s like a constant reminder that some things just aren’t meant to be.
A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he runs a hand over his face, his fingers pressing against his eyes. He’s tired—so tired. Not physically, but emotionally. It’s exhausting, pretending. Entirely consuming it is to feel something that can never be returned the way it’s given.
He presses the back of his palm to his nose, inhaling the faint remnants of your scent. The tears finally fall, slow and quiet at first. Soon, they’re coming harder and faster. But he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t want anyone to hear, not like anyone would. He doesn’t want it to be known the way his heart is shattering, piece by piece, while he lies alone in the shadows of his apartment.
For a moment, he wishes you could feel this—this ache, this longing that gnaws at him until there’s nothing left but the hollowed-out shell of someone who will never truly be enough. He wishes you could understand how it feels to love someone so deeply, to want them more than anything, and yet know that your love will never be enough.
He laughs again, a bitter, empty sound, this time not hiding it. It’s a dull laugh that tastes like defeat. He wipes at his eyes, sniffling quietly, the tears continuing to fall. Then, he forces himself to take a deep breath, to stop.
He can’t let himself drown in this. Not now.
But the truth is, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep pretending. The weight of everything—the smiles, the casual conversations, the “I’m fine” that he spits out like it’s nothing—feels too heavy now. He wonders how long you were able to tell. If you saw through the facade when you first met him, if you noticed the cracks starting to form around him immediately. Maybe he was the oblivious one.
He tells himself over and over again: you have your own life, your own love, your own future.
He rolls onto his side, facing the wall, the emptiness of his solitude swallowing him whole. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself, I’ll wake up, and I’ll be fine. He’s done this before. Pretending, masking the pain, wearing the boyish smile he knows so well. It’s easier than facing the truth, than admitting how much it hurts.
For now, in the quiet of his apartment, the only thing he can do is let the tears fall, and let himself grieve for the love he’ll never have.
However, one day…something changes in Satoru. He doesn’t even expect it. It’s subtle at first. A shift, almost imperceptible, like the first breeze of spring after a long, bitter winter. He’s standing at the edge of the room, watching as you and Suguru stand hand in hand at the altar, your eyes locked with his in a way that is nothing short of reverent. Your smile—so soft, so full of love—shines through the quiet moment as Suguru vows to stand by you, to love you through everything. Maybe it’s the way you seem so at peace with yourself while looking his best friend in the eyes at the altar, or the way you're radiantly glowing when you two have your first dance. Or the way you still regard him with the same tenderness you did from day one.
The ache grows quieter.
As you look at him, there’s a quiet contentment that blooms in Satoru’s chest. It’s not pain, not jealousy, not longing. Just peace. Something about seeing you so at ease, so sure of yourself, brings a strange sense of clarity to his heart.
He doesn’t know what it is—perhaps it’s the way you carry yourself now, with confidence, with the kind of joy that was never there before—but he feels something relieve within him. The old throbbing pain, the one that had been gnawing at him for so long, then pauses just a bit. It’s like the final breath of a storm passing, leaving behind only calm.
Later that evening, as he watches the two of you share your first dance, something settles in his chest, something he can’t quite explain. You’re glowing under the soft lights, and the way Suguru holds you so gently, his fingers pressing into the small of your back, is enough to make Satoru’s throat tighten. There’s no regret, no bitterness. Just a quiet acceptance.
He knows, deep down, that this is your moment. And he’s finally okay with that.
Satoru’s gaze drifts to you as you laugh, your head tilting back slightly as Suguru twirls you in his arms. Your eyes meet his, just for a second, and he sees it—the same look you’ve always had for him. His eyes don’t move from you one bit throughout the night, feeling something drift into the air. His shoulders feel lighter. Now, it’s just… comfort. A quiet, steady beat that comes from knowing he’s been a part of something meaningful in your life, even if it wasn’t meant to be forever.
He smiles to himself, the ghost of his old longing fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, Satoru feels like he’s no longer holding onto something that’s slipping through his fingers. The pieces have finally clicked into place. So, in that moment, he realizes something he hadn’t anticipated.
He’s free.
As the night winds down, and the last few guests start to trickle out, Satoru stays behind, quietly watching the empty dance floor. The lights are dimmed, the music faded, but the feeling of the day still lingers in the air. He knows that things have changed for him—deeply, irrevocably.
It’s not that he’s given up on love. Not at all. But something in him has shifted. It could be that his understanding is that love isn’t always about holding onto someone forever. Sometimes, it’s about letting them go—allowing them to find their happiness in their own way, even if it’s not with you.
You and Suguru have your own story now, and Satoru is finally okay with that. In fact, he’s grateful for it. Because without your happiness, without you finding peace with him, he never would have found peace with himself.
He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all—of everything that’s passed, of everything that’s been said and unsaid—and it’s fine. It’s more than fine. He’s not angry. He’s not resentful. He’s content.
And that’s enough.
The days that follow are gentle. There’s no rush or no pressure. Satoru slowly moves forward with his life, embracing the little things—his work, his friendships, his quiet moments. There’s a stillness in him that wasn’t there before. The pain that had consumed him for so long doesn’t disappear completely, but it becomes more manageable. More bearable.
Of course, maybe one day, in another place, with another person, there will be a love that’s his to hold onto. But for now, he’s happy with this. He’s happy with letting go—with moving forward. Because in the end, he’s learned that love doesn’t always look the way you expect. It isn’t always a fairy tale. Sometimes, it’s just a silent acceptance, a letting go, and knowing that everything will be okay in the end.
For the first time in a long time, Satoru believes that.
Finally, he just sees you. Someone’s wife.
Satoru stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of you. The woman he once loved, now married to someone else. The years have passed, but you’re still the same in the most beautiful ways. Your smile is just as bright, and the warmth in your eyes is still the same, no matter how much time has passed.
“How are you?” he asks, his voice soft, a little hesitant. It’s been a few years since he last saw you at your wedding to Suguru. He assumed, with time, that he would somehow grow less attracted to you. Less drawn to your presence, your laughter, and the way you seem to light up the world just by being in it.
How wrong he was.
You meet his gaze, and Satoru feels that familiar flutter in his chest, something he thought had long since faded. You haven’t changed. He’s never been able to forget the way you made him feel. The truth is, he probably never will. “I’m great,” you reply wholeheartedly, your smile so genuine it catches him off guard. The apples of your cheeks rise, and he can’t help but notice how much more beautiful you’ve become. There’s a glow about you, one that comes from happiness and contentment. The familiar glint in your eyes beams brighter than he’s ever seen before. It’s the same one that once made him think maybe he could be the one to make you smile like that forever.
Prettier than any star.
“Things have been well,” you continue, a slight tilt of your head as you study him. “How are you?”
Satoru swallows, his heart hammering in his chest, but he smiles. He’s not sure why it still affects him this way. Maybe it’s because he knows you’re happy, and that should be enough for him. But hearing you speak with that warmth, that sweetness, it still stirs something deep within him. “I’m good,” he says, his voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside him. He wants to tell you everything he wasn’t able to before—how much he’s missed you, how much he’s struggled to let go, how he’s still a little haunted by your absence. But he can’t. You’re someone else’s now. His best friend’s. And he can’t take that from you. He doesn’t want to, either.
“Life’s… busy,” he adds, trying to change the subject, but he knows the words are empty. He’s never been able to lie to you. You always see through it.
You nod, as if understanding more than he’s said. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not awkward. It’s familiar in a way that brings him a strange sense of comfort. You’ve both come so far, yet here you are, still standing before him.
Satoru wants to say something—anything—that will make this moment last. Yet, he knows better now. He knows that some things are meant to pass, to be remembered only as bittersweet memories. “I’m happy for you,” he finally says, his voice quieter than before. His eyes meet yours, searching for any sign that maybe, just maybe, you might feel something too.
And there it is. A flicker. A brief, imperceptible flicker in your eyes. You’re still the same woman he once knew, the one who captured his heart and never quite let it go.
He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He can see it in the way you look at him. You’ve both changed, in ways that neither of you could have predicted. Really, that’s okay. You’re happy, and that’s all that matters.
“I’m glad to see you doing well, Satoru,” you say with that same warm smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?” The weight of the unspoken words lingers between you, yet it’s not painful. Not anymore. Satoru nods, his own smile genuine, even if it’s laced with sadness. He doesn’t need to hold onto the past anymore. You’ve found your place in the world, and he’s finally at peace with that.
“I will,” he says quietly. “You too.”
Staying in your presence feels nice, no words having to be spoken when your actions do it all. Fleeting looks, warm smiles, hushed chuckles. He can’t stop his body from reciprocating. Every time your fingers brush against his by accident, a jolt of electricity runs through him. When your voice dances in the air, light and carefree, it takes every ounce of control he has not to reach out and pull you closer into a hug. Your presence is a kind of calm he didn’t know he needed, a peace he’s been missing, even after all these years.
He’s missed you. That’s okay to admit, right?
“Are you with someone now, Satoru?” You ask, sipping your coffee with an innocent eyebrow raise.
He shakes you off with a chuckle. “Nah, no one. I’m a lone wolf, remember?”
Playfully, you roll your eyes. “Right. Well, every lone wolf needs his mate, doesn’t he?”
“Please don’t use ABO logic on me.”
You kick his shin under the table and he dramatically responds with a frown. Looking at him from the large window that displays the warm morning of Saturday. Speaking with such integrity that it’s hard not to believe you. “I’m serious, Satoru. When it happens, I want to be there for you. Your soulmate is just walking around everyday life waiting for you, I look forward to you finally getting to experience that.”
His heart melts, smirk softening into genuineness. He can’t find it in him to say how wrong you probably are, to crush your dreams of him finding his one true love one day. How could he? You just want what’s best for him, and that’s why he loves you so much.
“Soulmate…” he repeats to himself lowly, watching you laugh gingerly before looking back out at the window. His eyes glance down at his left pinky finger, flexing it.
Red string of fate.
He can imagine the circle around his pinky, red and bright with intensity; glowing like a beacon of everything he’s always wanted and dreamed for. He looks back up at you, your side profile so perfectly structured in the warm light. The way your features align effortlessly like they were meant to be there. He can’t help the crinkle of his eyes when his smile grows wider and more genuine. The time he spent longing for you, it all seems to fade away when he looks at you like this. He lightly jerks his hand.
And for a brief, suspended moment, he catches the sight of your left pinky twitching, being tugged just barely in his direction before you adjust your grip on your coffee.
He follows your gaze, hiding a snicker behind the rim of his cup.
Yeah, she is just walking around, isn’t she?
a/n: hiiiii! i really hoped you guys enjoyed this, while writing this i didn't feel very confident and I still sort of don't, but I really hope it satisfies u all <3 as I said b4 thank you so much for 1k followers, I didn't expect this to happen lollolol but your support has been so appreciated. with this new year, I hope to put out more works, and I hope u all stay along for the ride. have a great day!!!! love and kisses
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scarf problem. gojo satoru (sfw)
cw. husband! gojo, crack, fluff, family diner, mention of kids and breeding, just gojo being gojo.
Heat rises on your cheeks, and your lips crumple into a pretty pout, eyebrows furrowed in displeasure as Satoru’s hand wraps around your thigh under the living room table.
“Pouting, sweetheart?” he blows out close to your ear with a fucking teasing tone.
Noticing the shiver that ran down your spine, a cocky smirk tugs the corner of his lips. How to break your husband’s perfect teeth?
“Aren’t you hot in that scarf?” your father chimes in, helping your mother to serve on each plate a juicy braised chicken leg.
“I’m fine,” you reply, your eyebrows so furrowed they look like they’re merging.
Indeed, over your pullover, wrapped up around your neck, a big red scarf knitted by Satoru himself is almost hiding half of your face, only your upper lip visible. Your vermilion cheeks give you away, nonetheless, and so does your slightly over-controlled breathing.
The heat is suffocating you, unbearable. But you hang in there. There’s no way you’re going to let your parents see the nasty red and purplish-blue marks left by your husband’s hickeys on the previous night.
“You’re suffocating, darling, take it off,” your mother insists too, a slight worried frown shaping her face, before sitting down in front of you beside your father. “The heater will warm you up.”
“No, I’m fine with this scarf, thanks,” you reply with the same, sulking face.
You ignore your parents’ worried glances at you and start eating your plate of mashed potatoes with peas — Satoru’s hand still on your thigh insisting on his caresses with his thumb drawing slow circles.
“C’mon sweetheart, just take it off,” he coos, and his hand squeezes your thigh harder just to enjoy seeing you suppressing a gasp. “Your pretty neck needs some fresh air. Otherwise, you’ll catch a cold.” He takes a mouthful of his plate and the fucker hums. “Delicious, by the way,” he comments to your mother, who smiles.
Cold my ass.
“Yeah, delicious,” you mumble grumpily, serving yourself a glass of water.
“So, the two of you,” your fathers starts as he swallows a bite of braised chicken and you raise the glass to your lips to take a sip. “Have you planned on having kids or something?”
You choke on your water and cough like a strangled ostrich, almost spitting out the liquid. Satoru gently and calmly pats your back as he responds to your father.
“Yes, that would be a good idea, wouldn’t it, sweetheart? What do you think?”
It’s not like he bred you to pass away the night before so you ended up to wear a scarf during your family dinner, hmm?
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