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seeingivy · 1 year

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cornelia street

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: mentions of drinking, reader has diabetes, mentions of misogyny in the workplace, satoru and reader are lawyers, gojo calls reader bonnie bc they're bonnie and clyde, a teenager who pees on da sidewalk, and a bitchy barista

an: 50+ listens to cornelia street and she's done. a request from the lovely @skzismyhome I hope you love it pookie and thank you for your support always!!!

You look down at the contract in front of you, willing down the angry tears settling in your eyes.

You knew that this day would come. It comes for everyone, for every son and daughter in higher society. The day they arrange your marriage.

And you never really dreaded it. Or hated it. Utahime was nearly murderous when it was happening to her, Shoko almost eloped and moved to the countryside when it was her turn, and Mei Mei was the only one who actually disappeared off the face of the Earth.

But you didn’t really care. Since you were young, you knew that this was something that you were being primed for. Why you had to be the best. You just hoped when it happened, it would be everything like your parents.

They didn’t love each other. But they were partners. By each other’s side. More like friends who just also happened to be married and had kids together.

But like all things in higher society, you never get what you want. Because the idiot you’re signing the papers with is the most entitled, self-centered egotistical asshat you’ve ever met.

Satoru Gojo.

“Last matter of business. I think this decision lands on Y/N, since Satoru made the last one. Where would you like to live?”

You scribble your answer onto the page and sign the line next to your name at the bottom. Satoru follows suit, sliding the ring box to your side, as you both shuffle in your seats.

Satoru has no reason to hate you. If anything, he should be praising the fucking ground you walk on for what he did to you. You slide the ring on your own finger and collect the papers, sealing them into the envelope.

“Where did you pick? For us to live?”

“Cornelia Street.”

You and Satoru butt heads often. You start it. Sometimes he argues back. You’re both pissed off by the end of it.

“I’ll run the errands, Satoru.”

He groans as he swings open the fridge, pulling out his leftovers from the night before.

“It’s literally right next to my office. I could just grab it if you tell me what it is you need.”

“No, thank you. I can get my things on my own.”

“Why are you so stubborn all the time? You haven’t even let me do anything since-”

“I can do my shopping on my own, thanks.”

You would let Satoru do it. You would. Because it is really annoying to run down to the store every time you need something, but you’re not giving in.

Because that would require you to indulge Satoru in more personal information than you would like to, so you can’t. Because you don’t fraternize with the devil.

The thing you need from the store isn’t actually from the store, it’s from the pharmacy next to it. You’re out of your long insulin pods, because you’ve been so busy with work. Because your own pancreas is so stupid, it can’t produce it’s own insulin. You have to buy it from the store, in a stupid little patch that painfully pricks into your stomach every time you insert it.

He blocks the doorway as you try to walk out, blue eyes peering into yours.

“Why won’t you just let me do this for you?”

“Because that worked out so well for me last time, Satoru.”

He groans as he presses his fingers to his nose bridge, nearly rolling his eyes at you.

“You know. If you’d let me explain that, I’d actually-”

“There’s nothing to explain. I asked you to give me a shoo in for my dream job. You quite explicitly told them not to hire me.”

Three summers ago was the first time you were graced with Satoru Gojo’s presence. And hell, you actually tolerate him. Maybe even liked him. You were both doing an internship, at the Zenin’s law firm in Brooklyn.

You and Satoru were somewhat of a…dream team. Every case you worked on together gave you a rush, like he’d finish your thoughts before you were thinking. Like you picked up where he lacked and vice versa. You were Bonnie and Clyde. Partners in crime.

So when they gave Satoru the associate position first, you asked him to pick you for the second associate opening. Because the person who gets that opening gets to be his partner. And you had convinced him - that you two would be a dream team, that you would be unstoppable. He agreed, in fact - he promised he would give it to you.

Which is why you felt blindsided when they picked an outsider, Getou Suguru, as the associate. And when you asked the head of the Zenin’s, Toji, why he didn’t pick you, you were mad. Why you weren’t the associate when you ran to get coffee for all of them all summer, stayed up late on cases, and busted your ass off, he said that Satoru didn’t think you were a good fit. And he has to make sure staff has good personal relations.

“Why are you so stubborn? You literally won’t even talk to me about-”

“I don’t want to talk to you! What part of that do you not fucking understand? I don’t like you. I’m never going to like you because you’re an egotistical, sadistic little prick and-

“And what are you? You’re an entitled little know it all. You don’t even listen before jumping to your own fucking conclusions about-”

“It’s not jumping to conclusions when Toji tells me straight to my face that you didn’t think I was a good fit. You’re fucking dense as fuck if you think I don’t know that.”

You push past him, marching angrily down Cornelia Street.

You press your face against the glass, watching the mounds of snow out in the street. You and Satoru have been snowed in on Cornelia Street for three days now, the stupid climate change induced storm in the middle of November trapping you for good.

In theory, you would have loved something like this. A break from work for a few days, nice weather for you to watch movies and cuddle up on the couch. Except, there’s an intruder in your house who has the same ideas as you.

“Hey.”

“Shove a fork in your eye, Satoru.”

“You get more creative as time goes on. I appreciate that in a wife.”

You roll your eyes as you walk over to the kitchen, where Satoru’s rummaging through the kitchen.

“Did you eat all the food already?”

“You know, if you actually did groceries on time, maybe we would actually have food for emergencies like this, Satoru.”

“First you don’t want me to do groceries and now you do? You’re so unpredictable it’s like-”

“I’m unpredictable? You’ve got to be kidding-”

“Oh my god. We’re not doing this today. I get it. I stole your dream job. Ruined your life. You hate me. Just, shut up about it already.”

He’s swirling the spoon through the saucepan as he waits for it, your irritated, agitated retort. And it doesn’t come.

He looks over to find you all but leaning over the counter, your head pressing into your forearm as you wobble on your feet. He instinctively reaches forward, holding you up in his arms.

“Hey. What’s wrong? Why are you-”

You lean forward against his chest, pressing your hands against his biceps as you feel your legs go limp. Right. Day three on Cornelia Street. With no extra insulin pods left.

“I’m out of-”

You slump forward more this time and Satoru drops the spoon on the floor, securing you against him as he leads you to the couch, laying you down flat on your back. His hands are on your face, firm on your cheeks as his voice starts wavering.

“What-what do I do? Tell me how to fix this, I-”

“Candy. Or anything sugar should-”

You can’t even finish the sentence before he bolts up, rummaging through the drawers before he returns. His touch is so gentle, so featherlike, as he helps you up, his hands shaking as he helps you drink the juice.

His hand is rubbing circles into your back, his cheek pressed into the top of your head as you both slow your breathing. And when you level out, Satoru’s hands are pressed around your face again, cupping your cheeks again.

“You okay, Bonnie?”

Bonnie. Like that summer, when you were Bonnie and Clyde.

“Yeah.”

“You’re positive?”

“Mhm.”

“Perfect. Are you a fucking dumbass?”

You lean your face out of his touch, more confused and disoriented than before. You-you just passed out and he’s yelling at you?

“Satoru. You’re so rude. I just-”

“Yes, Y/N. I’m yelling at you. I’m yelling at you because we literally live together and are married and you didn’t tell me you have fucking diabetes.”

“Okay. And?”

“And? You can’t be fucking serious right now-”

He pushes off the couch, pacing back in forth in front of you as he starts yelling, angrily running his hands through your hair.

“You’re-you’re this fucking mad at me? It was one job. And you-you would compromise your health over it?”

“This isn’t compromising my health. I just didn’t know there would be a storm and-”

“Y/N. Oh my fucking god, get it through your thick head. I’m your emergency contact. If you were fucking dying in a hospital and they ask me what’s wrong with you, I wouldn’t know. And then they would probably kill you because I didn’t know you had diabetes.”

You lean your head back against the couch, feeling the strain all at once. You’re drained. And you hate it when Satoru’s right. Because he is your emergency contact, because he’s your husband - whether you like it or not.

After not responding right away, Satoru leans back onto the couch with you, a hand pressed in your hair. He’s brushing through the tresses, his voice soft when he speaks again.

“God, Bonnie. Just let me take care of you.”

“That didn’t work out wel-

“Well for you last time. Quit saying the same shit over and over again. That was three years ago. And we’re…married now. I’m..supposed to take care of you now and I’m going to so just let me.”

You deflate as he keeps running his hands through your hair, the lack of insulin and energy surely imparing your inhibitions.

“Fine.”

He turns over to you, a wide smirk pressed against his face.

“Fine? You, Y/N L/N, agreeing with me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He laughs, leaning his head against yours as he moves his arm down your back, squeezing your side once before he talks again.

“Got any other big secrets you’re keeping from me?”

“I murdered a guy. He’s in our attic.”

“Ouch. What did he do, Bonnie?”

“It was an accident. I thought he was you.”

He presses your face into his hand, rolling his eyes at you.

Satoru is pleasantly surprised to find out that you don’t argue with just him, your unfiltered and unabashed rage is something that you do with everyone. Your latest victim? Your little brother, Yuuta.

You’ve been screaming at him for a better part of the past hour, because Yuuta’s being a fucking idiot. Yuuta was never into the whole arranged marriage, higher society thing. And you knew that.

You just never think he’d come to your place, asking you and Satoru for money so he could run away with Maki.

“This is the wrong move, Yuu. You’re only nineteen.”

“I have to do this now. I can’t do what you did. I don’t care if you like him now and you’re friends or whatever, I just really…really love her, okay?”

“You love her? Then stop being a fucking idiot about it. You’re both making a stupid decision that’s just going to hurt you. You can’t just run away from your problems.”

“Y/N. You’re always think you know what’s best and you control-”

“Yuuta, you little piece of-”

Satoru stops you before you walk further, yanking you back by firmly pulling on your wrist. He leans forward, whispering I got this in your ear before yanking Yuuta out of your apartment and down the opposite block of Cornelia Street.

When they return, they both have the audacity to be smiling, Yuuta holding two cups of Coppola’s Coffee in his hand. He sets one in front of you, awkwardly brushing his hand against his neck.

“Sorry, Y/N. You’re right.”

You smile.

“What was that? I didn’t really hear you.”

“You were right.”

“One more time. A little louder, Yuu.”

He rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He walks back, pressing a kiss to your cheek and bidding goodbye to Satoru as he drags out the door. You turn to your side, glaring at Satoru.

“What did you say to him?”

“Ah, you know. The usual.”

“The usual?”

“Just talked him down. Told him if he really likes this Maki girl then he should ask us for help. We are his older siblings and all. That you just get mad because you care about him.”

You roll your eyes as you lie face down on the counter, cheeks burning. You’re his older siblings. Because Satoru’s his brother in law. You feel him tapping on your head, gleefully grinning at you.

“What?”

“Guess what time it is.”

“You know, just because I pass out one time on accident doesn’t mean-”

He presses his fingers to your lips, rolling his eyes as he places it in your hands. A pack of almonds.

“Satoru.”

“Did you know that almonds are the perfect snack? Because they’re high in magnesium, potassium-”

“And vitamin E. Making the perfect nutrient-rich snack for those with impaired glucose tolerance.” you finish, mimicking his high pitched voice.

He opens up the packet, pouring them all into your hand. And then he watches you eat every single one. You come up with an insult for each one you eat.

“You’re a disgrace to humanity, Satoru.”

“And?”

“And a little pain in the ass. Like you know when you get a pimple stuck right in between your butt and it hurts to sit down? That’s what you are.”

“Descriptive. Just one more almond and you’re done, Bonnie. Make the insult good.”

“I don’t take orders from men. Least of all you.”

You place the last one in your mouth, chewing and then sticking your tongue out to Satoru, to show you did in fact eat the entire thing.

“That’s my girl. Not only does she eat all her food but hurls scathing insults at the same time.”

“Being your biggest hater is my full time job, Satoru.”

He laughs, pinching your cheek as he starts milling around the kitchen, preparing for dinner. Ever since you and Satoru got snowed in and he found out about everything, you…were both surprisingly tame. Not at Bonnie and Clyde pre-getting backstabbed levels, but he’s not…horrible to be around. And he never really was.

Because Satoru’s thoughtful. He’s googled all the ways to control blood sugar, reserached different pods for you to try, and always tries to balance the dinner (that you now let him make for you) to make sure that you’re eating all right.

And he’s funny. He’s convinced you into watching the Bachlorette with him every week. And you’re above corny reality shows but his commentary is just so ridiculous you can’t help but watch with him.

And he even got Yuuta and Maki to like him now.

And really, it’s all types of irritating because you like him. You actually like him. He backstabbed you into oblivion but he’s also the sweetest, most compassionate guy you’ve ever talked to and you like him.

You push off the counter, reaching for the cupboard and yank out the biggest glass of wine you can find. As soon as you finish pouring almost the entire bottle into the glass, Satoru snatches it out of your hand, cheekily smiling at you.

“Thank you, Bonnie.”

“I was going to drink that, Satoru.”

“Diabetics should drink in moderation. Can’t have you passing out on me now.”

“That was one time. You could share, you know.”

He rolls his eyes as he hands you the glass, your hands burning from it. How intimate it is. That you and Satoru are sharing a glass, all warm and drowsy from the drink. And when he grabs your hand, leading you onto the little patio just off of your roof, you follow. Blindly.

You’re both laying against the bricks, the lights of the city reflecting into the sky. There aren’t any stars out, only the tinted white of the fluorescnets against the dark sky.

“Why’d you pick Cornelia Street, Bonnie?”

“It’s quiet. And I always walked down it - when I used to go to class and then after when I started walking to work. I’ve always liked all the little people bustling by with Coppola’s on the corner.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“So do you like that kid who peed on the block last week?”

“Ew. Gross, Satoru.”

He laughs, leaning back on the tiles, beckoning for you to move closer to him. He opens up his arm, which you lean into, his arm wrapped around yours. The tiles are kind of digging into your back, but you ignore it because you don’t want to move and risk Satoru moving away from you.

“Do you like Cornelia Street, Satoru?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m moved by the passion, Satoru. You can’t imagine yourself anyplace else, can you?”

He looks over, blue eyes glimmering under the shy flourescents of the building, his voice firm as he answers.

“No. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.”

And from the look on his eyes, the way your skin is itching from the way he’s looking at you…you know he’s not talking about Cornelia Street.

“Are you-”

“Talking about Cornelia Street? I’m not, Bonnie. I’m talking about the girl who loves Cornelia Street.”

You reach over, timidly pressing your hand to Satoru’s face as you shift his face over, his cheeks warm under your touch. He’s moving forward, eyes fluttered shut and you can feel your heart hammering under your chest.

And when he presses his lips to yours, soft and plush with a hint of wine on his mouth, you can’t help but feel it all untangling in your chest. Unraveling. The way you feel about him, those stupid blue eyes and that lopsided smile.

Because all of those summers ago, it wasn’t that you liked working with the Zenin’s. It’s that you liked working with Satoru. And it wasn’t a backstab to not get to work with the Zenin’s, it was that Satoru didn’t want you to work with him.

He snakes his hand under your shirt, his touch featherlike but blossoming searing light onto your skin.

“Satoru. This is public indecency.”

He presses his head into your neck, peppering soft kisses into your neck as he responds.

“Bonnie and Clyde were criminals, silly girl.”

“Almonds, Bonnie.”

“Satoru.”

“Nope. Eat ‘em and we’ll go.”

You roll your eyes as you tilt the packet back, shoving them all into your mouth. Satoru gives you a gleeful grin and a kiss on the forehead as he shoves you out the door. Satoru walks you to work everyday. And back home on the way back. To protect you from lewd street pee.

You get coffee from Coppolas every morning, the barista always giving the two of you a shining smile. Whenever the flower vendors pass by, Satoru always buys you the pink ones, which make your heart pound but you always clown him for.

Satoru insists that you wear your wedding ring everyday. And buys one for himself too, which he forces you to put on him. And he encourages you - to be better. Which is why you’re going to try again.

“Toru.”

“Hm, Bonnie?”

“Can you do me a favor on your way to work?”

“Sure.”

“Mail this for me.”

You hand him your job application, to work with the Zenin’s and Satoru, to fix what happened the first time. Granted, Satoru doesn’t really work with the Zenin’s anymore, but instead a different firm, but they do partner up sometimes.

In a way, asking Satoru to do this for you is righting a wrong. Because he should put in a good word for you this time, so you can actually get your dream job. Because whatever stopped him the first time isn’t there now - he’s told you hundreds of times that you’re brilliant, the smartest person he’s ever met - so there’s no logical reason for him not to.

So when you find the application in his bag, six days after the fact while looking for his phone, you’re a little bit confused.

“Toru.”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear back from Toji? About the job?”

“Ah, yeah. He’s not really into it. I gave it to him but he said there’s no associate openings.”

Liar. As always, Satoru Gojo is a fucking liar. And it’s stupid. It’s so stupid of you to think otherwise. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you shove your things into your backpack and swing it over your shoulder.

And you almost walk out the door before he catches you.

“Hey. Where are we going, Bonnie?”

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.”

You watch the smile fall off of his face, the grip on your wrist loosening.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?”

“You really hate me that much, don’t you? You couldn’t even hand it in for real this time? You have that little faith in the work that I can do?”

“This-this isn’t about the faith I have in you. You’re brilliant and I’ve always thought that about you. It’s just that it’s not right-”

“Not right for me? Because working at one of the best law firms isn’t right for me? I should just slum it out where I’m at now.”

“Bonnie, I can explain-”

And you run straight out the door, flat off of Cornelia Street.

Satoru doesn’t hear from you for nine days. And it’s pure agony. Waking up without you next to him. Watching people mill by on Cornelia Street, getting Coppola’s without you. The barista doesn’t even smile at him anymore.

And when that stupid kid pees on the block again, he can’t even laugh at it. Because Cornelia Street without you is all types of wrong.

He wakes up every morning, promptly at 7:30. Because if what you said is right, you take Cornelia Street on the way to work when you walk from home. But you never do. He’s never seen you walk past, not even once.

You’re still going to work. He knows that because Maki told him so. Yuuta isn’t really talking to him anymore, but Maki begrudgingly gives him slivers of information that he lives off of.

She’s going to work, just a different way.

Yes, I gave her the almond packets.

No, she doesn’t want to talk to you.

But he knows you have to come back. Because your sewing machine and your vinyls and all your things are here. Because some selfish part of him thinks you have to come back because it’s him. Because some small part of you loves him the way the entirety of him has always loved you.

So much so, that he’s had selfish intentions from the start. To protect you.

If he was a smart guy, he would have picked you to be his partner when he was working with the Zenin’s straight out. Because you’re a dream team, because no one picks at his mind and makes him work in circles the way you do.

But when he brought you up to Toji, it eliminated any possibility you had of working here. Because the Zenin’s are disgusting, misogynistic pigs.

Toji said he would hire you on one condition. That Satoru shares you with him. Because Toji had caught on to the affections Satoru had held for you in earnest but still wanted his fair share of the cut. Because he’s still an old money lawyer, who uses his own power to his advantage. Because your pretty face is the only reason he hired you in the first place.

He picks Getou the next time he sees Toji. And he never hears from you again. And that’s okay, because you end up working with Utahime at a different firm and he knows that you’re safe from this. And dear god does he miss you, but it is better than the alternative.

And when your parents bring you together, because you’re both lawyers and that’s a common interest, he’s more than happy to sign the papers. Because it’s his chance to right his wrong. Because he still wants to be Bonnie and Clyde, in all the ways that matter.

You pass out in his arms and his world stops. Because he’s always wanted to protet you, and he recognizes that some part of that is selfish because you can protect yourself, but god he just wants to take care of you because you mean something to him.

And when you leaned over and kissed him, Satoru loves you. He loves you and he loves Cornelia Street and he loves everything you love. Because anything you like is anything he likes. You could tell him that you hate the sky and he’d never look at it again.

But when you hand him that shiny job application, asking for his support, he can’t. Because now more than ever, he can’t let his wife even stand near idiots like Toji. The thought of someone thinking about you like that, let alone doing something like that is enough to send him into a blind rage, that would most definitely get him blacklisted from literally any workplace.

And dear god does he wish you would have heard him out when you left. Because he would have told you. That you were all types of brilliant, that you keep him on his toes, that you’re the only god damn thing he’s ever wanted.

That he can’t let you work there because he loves you. Because he wants you to be happy always, to be surrounded by people who respect you for you, who think you’re just as brilliant as you actually are.

And he’d actually be able to do that if he could fucking find you. He wanders a different street everyday, hoping to catch you walking to work. It’s currently day nine and he has yet to find success. But when he sees them, shiny black loafers across the sidewalk, he runs into incoming traffic just to catch you.

He gets angry honks and yelling because New Yorkers are always rude, but he doesn’t care. You’re like a ghost. You can get away if he doesn’t walk fast enough. And when he catches your elbow, stopping you from walking, he knows he’s done it.

“Bonnie.”

“Satoru. Why are you…panting?”

“Ran into traffic.”

“Wish they hit you.”

He takes you in. And just like Maki said, you’re fine. Well, you look fine. A bit angry, that stupid vein bulging out on your forehead, but you’re okay.

“Why don’t you walk on Cornelia Street?”

“What?”

“You said you picked Cornelia Street because it’s on the way to work. That you like to watch the people on Cornelia Street and Coppola’s on the corner. You haven’t walked there for nine days. Why?”

He watches you roll your eyes as you shake his hand off, walking past him. But Satoru’s faster, basically pinning you into the wall by putting his arms around you.

“Give me an answer.”

“No, Satoru.”

“Bonnie. You love Cornelia Street. Have since you were a kid. Why aren’t you walking there?”

You can feel the tears rising up in your eyes, the anger bubbling out of you as you respond.

“Because of you, asshole. Because Cornelia Street is you. I see that dumbass teenager piss on the street and all I can think about is how you think it’s funny. The guy selling flowers? I think about which ones you would pick out and buy for me. Coppola’s? The girl does’t even smile at me anymore. I don’t walk Cornelia Street because I can’t. Because it’s all you now. Everything I like there reminds me of you.”

He can feel it. His heart burning. He can still make this right.

“She’s kind of a bitch, you know? She doesn’t smile at me either.”

You laugh, your chest heaving from the pain. Because seeing him again makes your chest burn. Ache. Because you miss him and because you love him. And when he opens his arms and shoves you into his chest, his smell in your nose, all you can do is cry, cheeks burning into his skin.

“Bonnie.”

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you. You’re a back stabber.”

“If you let me explain, I would-”

“Fine. Let’s hear your great explanation.”

So when you start making your way back, he explains. That he’s selfish. And a back-stabber. And when he tells you what Toji says, he doesn’t miss the way you cringe, the way your face goes blank when he thinks about it.

About how he knows he should have told you but he hates to see you down. How Bonnie and Clyde was always going to be more than a work thing, but the thing he wants forever.

And when you reach the front of the door, of your apartment on Cornelia Street, he can’t help but feel a weight in his chest. Because you’re quietly standing, staring at the door. Granted, you are holding his hand and it’s a good sigh, but…you haven’t said anything.

“Satoru.”

“Yes?”

“I really…messed this up, didn’t I?”

“What?”

And when you turn to his side, he’s floored at the fact that you’re crying. Begging him to stay with you.

“Satoru. I-I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t walk away I, I don’t-”

He clamps his hand over your mouth, shaking his head as you as he deflates.

“God, Bonnie. You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?”

“Huh?”

“I love you. I want to walk Cornelia Street with you. I want to buy you flowers and check the mailbox with you. I want Yuuta and Maki to pretend to throw up when they see us kissing and I want to take care of you. If you’ll just let me, I’ll do it right.”

And when you lean forward, the kiss is messy. Your tears are falling on to his face and he’s way too eager from the way he’s hanging off of your lips, the way he’s literally shaking you in his hold.

You walk Cornelia Street the next day. And you’re part of the constants of the street. The guy selling flowers, the fresh fruit cart on Saturdays, lewd pee kid when he’s drunk, and two very happy in love lawyers.

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