#yes to gojo angst

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

“he loves me… he loves me not.”

gojo had been minding his own business—well, sort of. he had been walking across the school grounds, sunglasses perched on his nose, hands tucked into his pockets, just happening to pass by when he spotted you sitting under a tree, plucking petals from a daisy.

he tilted his head, amusement curling at the edges of his lips.

“ooh, what’s this?” his voice was teasing as he strolled up to you, leaning down so his face was way too close to yours. “someone’s got a crush?”

you jolted at his sudden presence, eyes widening before you quickly tried to hide the flower behind your back. “gojo—”

“ah-ah,” he interrupted, sliding onto the grass beside you, effortlessly prying your hand forward to inspect the half-plucked daisy. his grin widened. “oh, this is juicy. tell me, tell me, who’s the lucky guy?”

you huffed, glaring at him, but there was no real bite behind it. “none of your business.”

gojo clicked his tongue, rocking back on his palms as he stretched his long legs out. “c’mon, you’re literally playing a game about it. it’s my duty as your best friend to pry into your love life.”

you rolled your eyes but sighed, plucking another petal.

“he loves me…”

gojo smirked. “oh? It’s looking good so far.”

another petal.

“he loves me not.”

he waved a dismissive hand. “eh, don’t worry about that one. those don’t count.”

another.

“he loves me.”

“see? fate wants you to win.”

and then—

“he loves me not.”

your fingers froze over the now-empty flower stem.

gojo felt it immediately—the way your shoulders dropped just slightly, the way your lips pressed together in that disappointed little frown. the playful atmosphere from before faded into something quieter, something almost… wistful.

“damn,” gojo said lightly, but there was a slight stiffness to his voice now. “tough luck, huh?”

you didn’t respond right away. your gaze flickered up, looking just past him—past his teasing smirk, past his presence entirely.

gojo followed your line of sight, and that’s when he saw him.

geto suguru, walking by a few feet away, completely oblivious to the fact that you were looking at him like he was the only thing in the world.

something in gojo’s chest lurched.

he blinked behind his sunglasses, his cocky grin faltering just slightly.

“oh,” he said, the realization hitting him like a slow-burning ache. “it’s him.”

you didn’t notice the shift in his tone, too busy staring after geto.

gojo, for once, didn’t tease.

he just sat there, watching you, watching the way your fingers curled slightly over the empty daisy stem, watching the way your gaze softened in a way it never did for him.

and for the first time in his life, satoru gojo felt the sharp, quiet sting of jealousy.

but he didn’t say a word.

he just forced his usual grin back into place, elbowed you lightly, and drawled, “well, what does some dumb flower know, anyway?”

you laughed softly, finally tearing your gaze away from geto. “yeah,” you murmured. “you’re right.”

but gojo didn’t feel like he was right.

because suddenly, he kind of hated that flower.

[riaki]

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

[fushitoru]

EDIT: check out the series here!

thinking about writing a bridgerton!gojo fic (series?)....

duke gojo, who has stirred up everyone and their mamas with news of how he is finally joining the marriage scene this season after years of fooling around. of course, to no one's surprise, he is the season's most eligible bachelor. he's the strongest, whether that be in terms of wealth or other manly pursuits gentlemen ought to be good at. gojo isn't marrying for love. he just needs to be tied down to secure his inheritance so he can gamble and fool around at the gentleman's clubs with his friends until he drops dead one day.

you seek to be the perfect daughter in front of your parents. you have been taught to be the picture of grace and nobility, proficient at all things a lady must be good at: needlework, art, music...you name it. but deep inside, you have an affinity for literature---feminist literature. you secretly feel aversion towards the idea of marrying just to be a submissive wife but will not show it. you are perfectly content marrying any man that should not harm you as long as he has the means to provide for you and make your family proud.

upon your presentation to the queen, you are immediately crowned a diamond. the first ball of the season comes, and gojo undoubtedly has his eyes sight on you as the diamond of the season. after all, why would a duke need to settle for anything less when he can buy the shiniest jewel?

on your dance with him, you give all the template responses. "i would sire as many kids as my husband desires." you are afraid of pregnancy and even more so of raising kids. "of course I read byron!" you hate byron's poetry.

gojo is content, and you, tired of all the stares and hushed whispers that have followed you through the night, leave to get fresh air outside in the terrace. only to overhear:

"a bit simpleminded. has no opinions of substance that should cause conflict. she's perfectly fine for a wife. i shall begin courting her and will soon pro---"

at that moment, you have one thought in your mind: you will never marry satoru gojo. in fact, you abhor him.

cue insults thrown back and forth. when it comes down to having to marry gojo, the most eligible bachelor and the option that will make your parents the proudest, will it be a matter of fillial piety or...love?

dear reader, this season has definitely come forth with many promises of thinly veiled hatred, jealousy, and burning passion.

oops this is longer than the silly little thought i wanted to post but welp. the smut i have planned for this is outright nastyyy

comment if you'd like to be on the taglist for this

i also promise i have not forgotten about beach boy gojo :3 running into a bit of writer's block for that so my inbox is always open for ideas <3

[wildmothman]

Happy late birthday Geto Suguru ^-^

[late-night-secrets]

It was impossible to not at least fall a little for Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world – and your colleague. Both of you started working as teachers at Jujutsu High at the same time. Back then, you had heard of him, of course, but with you graduating from the Kyoto branch, you had only met him a few short times, even less had talked to him.

He was just like everyone said: Loud, cocky and extremely powerful. His whole presence had pissed you of at first, but just after a few weeks and one or two very mature moments of self-reflection you had realized it was admiration. Admiration and envy. Because he was the strongest and infuriatingly good at everything he did, and why on earth did he have to start teaching at the same time as you?! People would compare the two of you, naturally, and there was no chance against him. It was outrageous.

And the worst of it all: He noticed you (How could he not when he had arrived terribly late at your initiation and you and Principal Yaga had waited for over an hour?), he knew you (How could he not when he grew bored within the first five minutes of Yaga’s speech of the school’s principles, had asked for your name and used it ever since when he was greeting you?), he seemed to like you (… How could he?).

To be fair, it’s Gojo Satoru. He smiled almost all the time and seemed to be endlessly excited about everything and everyone. If he disliked someone, he had no problem with showing and saying so, and at some point, you noticed, he had never said he disliked you. No, quite the contrary, when he was bored, he was looking for you bothering you while you had work to do; nagging, poking, invading your personal space, whining about a lack of attention right in front of your class to a point where you had to kick him out. When you were getting lunch, he joined you without being invited to or asking to be; as if it had always been like this. He chatted with you about everything and anything at all, and you chatted back. Because you had realized Gojo Satoru might be a nuisance, but he was good and kind, and that was nice company to hang out with, you thought.

One day in winter you went into the teacher’s lounge in between classes to grab a quick cup of coffee and found him… existing there for whatever reason. You just gave him a short greeting, not paying attention to what he was doing, and immediately went for the coffee machine. Instead for a greeting in return, you were met with silence first, and then a: “Are these yours?”

You looked up to see him holding one of your gloves. It looked incredibly small in his large hands.

“Yeah, why?”

When he turned to you, you couldn’t see his eyes, but you imagined they were wide open with surprise. At least that was what his hanging jaw indicated. “Are your hands that small?”

You raised your eyebrows in offense. “I find them perfectly fine.” To prove your point, you raised your hand, palm facing him.

Without hesitation he put his against yours to compare the size of your hands. His infinity was off, and skin touched against skin. “Woah, they really are small!” He put his hand and your glove down and made his way to the door. “Anyway, gotta teach. See you.” And just like that he left.

And you were left standing there, your palm still tingling from the contact of his warm hand and your heart pounding a tad bit too much. A part of you wanted to react with humor, throwing an exaggeratingly desperate “What are we?” after him which he would have definitely heard. But you couldn’t because your voice left you for a minute or two. Why was your heart still pounding? And why were you frozen in place repeating these few seconds again and again in your head?

Retrospectively, that palm-on-palm encounter was most likely where it all started. You began second-guessing all of his interactions with you, everything he said. For a first, you realized that he was very touchy with you, seeking your proximity: His fingers brushing against your arms nearly every time he was talking to you. As if he wanted to pull you closer. Or your fingers always touching when handing him something. Walking unnecessarily close to you, or shifting after you sat done, so there was merely an inch left between your arms or legs. Perhaps it all happened by accident, but your heightened attention caused you finding it more significant than that; and it occurred too frequent to call them accidents at some point.

Another thing you noticed was the staring. More than once you felt a tingling sensation at the back of your neck, and when you turned your head, you would find him looking at you. It was a bit difficult to distinguish whether he had actually been observing you or something lying in the same direction, with his blindfold and all. But most times when being caught he would either smile or quickly turn away.

And lastly, and most importantly, the way he spoke to you. It created butterflies in your stomach. He wasn’t particularly flirty, not more to you than to anyone else, but he seemed so carefree when he was talking to you. There was all this nonsense and his jokes, of course, no one got spared, but with you he seemed to relax in a way that sometimes made him turning a conversation to more serious matters to which he not only contributed cold facts but also his very own thoughts and concerns; his opinion and worry on certain topics, he shared them with you. The moment you realized he didn’t do that with everyone, your heart fluttered, somewhat prideful of the fact that you were someone Gojo Satoru confided in. You felt special.

It made you think of him outside of work; about interactions with him, involuntarily reading into them. That one time the teachers of the Tokyo and Kyoto branch had to group themselves into pairs of two for a field day activity for the students, and Gojo pretty obviously used his Six Eyes during drawing lots to get paired up with you? Yes, he wanted to be teamed up with you, but why? Because you had more patience with him than Urahime or Nanami? Or because he enjoyed spending time with you, liked that you laughed about each other’s jokes? Because he liked you? Or that one or two times when he pinched you out of sheer boredom in one of the meetings and then snickered at the way you squeaked and slapped him on his shoulder as a punishment? Or that time around Christmas when there was decoration all around the city and you and him were on a mission and he had spotted a heart-shaped Christmas ball that he wanted to hang on your uniform?

You tried to think about it rationally. Despite hanging out with him so often, you barely knew him. You had no idea where he was born, if his parents were still alive, what his favorite color was, which kind of music he enjoyed listening to, whether he had a partner. It would make sense, that last part, because this was Gojo Satoru, the strongest, the most handsome, the wittiest of them all. How could he still be single?

On the other hand, wouldn’t he have mentioned them at some point at least? Hm, not necessarily; he was the strongest which also meant he had lots of enemies. He probably didn’t want to put anyone in danger who was dear to him.

Okay, then: Would he act towards you like he did when he was already happily taken? Maybe? Maybe not? Probably not. Right?

It drove you mad. You could hardly concentrate on your work which affected your results, and that drove you even more mad. It was ridiculous. You were a grown adult and felt like a teenager with your funny, little feelings for that dashing colleague of yours. Surprisingly, every time you spoke to or ate or worked with him, you found yourself maturely nonchalant considering the turmoil he caused within you. Quite the opposite even: When you saw him, you felt at ease and the storm inside your head calmed down.

You fell for him.

It was maddening.

You decided to tell a friend – that you were crushing on your coworker, not who said coworker was exactly – and they managed to give you enough courage to ask him out. “He will say ‘No’ if he’s not interested. Or if he has a partner, I guess,” they said. It would be the first time for Gojo and you to meet privately. After pondering for hours you texted him whether he wanted to grab a coffee sometime this week.

He took an awfully long time reply but after six hours full of agony you received an answer: “Yeeeeees, sounds like fun! ^^ But I’m not in the city this week :(“

You texted him back, suggesting a day next week. Once more, many, many hours passed. He’s a highly demanded sorcerer, you reasoned, he’ll be busy.

He replied that he couldn’t say for sure whether he’d be in Tokyo next week but not to worry, you guys would manage somehow.

His words were encouraging but at the same time you felt a little Pang in your chest that it didn’t work out as planned. But, rationally speaking, it was going well; he agreed on meeting you and that gave you hope.

When he didn’t text you at the end of next week and you hadn’t seen him at school either, you dropped another message asking about his whereabouts. His answer came the next day, that he was fine but also very busy.

You suggested another time for the coffee, and this time he agreed.

All of a sudden, you became nervous. It wasn’t as if you two had never met before, or if you had never spent time alone with him. But for some reason, this felt different. Nonetheless, you were excited when you were getting ready. Sometime on your way to the café, he dropped you a message that he would be sitting inside the café waiting for you. With excitement you noticed that he was actually on time for your… meeting (you didn’t dare to call it a date). And when you spotted him sitting inside, wearing his sunglasses rather than his blindfold, your heart skipped a happy beat.

The greeting was warm and full of smiles; it had been quite a while since you two had last seen each other with missions and all. You got your drinks and started chatting about what you had done in the last couple of weeks. You were talking about your classes, about that especially annoying curse you had had to take care of on your supposedly free day, and some family business you had had to attend to.

After that, he told you about his super top-secret mission – abroad even! – he had been sent to, about how he had finished it with so much ease (of course) that he had been able to return back to Japan earlier than expected “… and thanks to that I spent a few days in Kyoto, that’s where my girlfriend lives.”

He continued on, talking about some new sweets he had tried, or was it about some old colleague he had met? Either way, you couldn’t pay attention. It sounded so cliché, but you were quite positive about hearing your heart shatter after he had said that last sentence. Your mind stopped working for a good minute before you snapped back and feared that he realized.

Was it just your imagination or had he gazed at you a bit more intensely than usual when he had said “girlfriend”? You didn’t know and you couldn’t skip back and replay that moment.

You wished you could. You wished you could stop everything right before he said that awful sentence. You wished he was joking but he hadn’t been using his teasing tone. You wished you would wake up and realize that you just had one of those horrible nightmares that hit a bit too close to real life scenarios.

But nothing like that happened. And just like that, within a second, your heart was broken; unintentionally even, you thought so at least. Gojo wasn’t the type to lead someone on. He’d be a bit flirty with everyone, yes, but he wouldn’t want someone properly fall for him when there wasn’t a chance. He wasn’t cruel to people he liked.

And yet there you were. The meeting was very nice; lasted for hours because the two of you had lost track of time. That was even worse. If it would have been awful, you thought you could eventually live with the fact that the two of you clicked at work but nowhere else, but that didn’t appear to be the case. Just like usually, you guys could easily joke around, talk about stuff related to work but also to some more private matters; teasingly banter about your favorite dishes being the whole opposite of each other but agreeing on the problems of the Jujutsu society.

Only when you were alone at home, you allowed yourself to let the fact sink in that Gojo Satoru had never been romantically interested in you. That all of his acts and words were nothing but platonic. Perhaps even an expression of mutuality that you mistook for romantic affection. And maybe that was the reason why you fell for him at the first place, because he interacted with you without any ulterior motives.

During the hours you spent with him at the café, he hadn’t mentioned his girlfriend a second time although there had been some possibilities. You also hadn’t dared to ask; either because you had feared to cross his borders, or because a part of you wanted to pretend she didn’t exist which meant you knew nothing about her except for that she lived in Kyoto.

You wished you had known beforehand because then you might have never properly fallen for him. But what had happened, had happened.

And all you knew was that you had to work with him while trying to make your stupid, little feelings fade away. You had no idea whether you would manage.

**********

masterlist

[madthetruemad]

gojo as anakin skywalker a.k.a jjk star wars au-?!

idk, this thought has been infesting my brain lately, so I jotted down a small blurb. This is what I get for rewatching the clone wars, loving anakin and gojo at the same time, and wanting to mash my two favorite shows together into some sort of space wizard sandwich

jedi!gojo x senator!fem!reader

jjk x star wars au

“Flirting gets you nowhere, Gojo.”

“You don’t know that! Senator L/n will probably finally look at me!”

Senator L/n will, in fact, not look at him.

Geto merely sighed, his eyes closed, and his head shaking slowly from side to side at the idiocy of his friend. And to think Gojo somehow managed to become a Jedi Knight was beyond him, but here they were.

“Listen, all I am saying is that I am going to invite the Senator out to a nice dinner, we talk, connect, and see how our relationship goes from there.”

Geto rolled his eyes at his friend, “you and I both know that relationships are forbidden and looked down upon. One second you’ll be happily dating Senator L/n, and the next you’re becoming a sith lord because someone killed her.”

It was now Gojo’s turn to roll his eyes, “you worry way too much, Geto. Just relax. No one is turning to the darkside, and no one is becoming a sith lord.”

As the two stopped traversing the halls, another door slid open and you walked out with your droid following dutifully behind you. You hadn’t noticed the two Jedi at the end of hall as you had already turned your back and walked in the other direction.

“Speaking of which,” Gojo said with his usual cheshire like grin, turning away from Geto he started walking again and raised his hand up to start waving at you, “Senator L/n! Fancy running into you in this star system!”

Geto could see how your shoulders immediately sunk and watched your body let our a sigh you have definitely been holding. Geto found himself praying for your sanity due to Gojo’s persistence.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Gojo Satoru couldn’t stand you. He couldn’t bear the faint smell of your shampoo in the stairwell you’d just left, the sound of your laughter disappearing around the corner.

He’d started excusing himself from staff meetings at school, much to the fury of the higher-ups. But he quite literally couldn’t be in the same room with you. Not after what he’d done.

The strongest sorcerer started letting his Infinity slip, hoping you’d brush against him in the hallway just so he could feel you again.

He got sloppy on missions, ending up on Shoko’s operating table more and more often. The last time, forced back into consciousness by her technique and a lungful of secondhand smoke, she had called him on it.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed, Satoru? You think that’s going to bring them back?” He took so long to answer that she started to worry he’d passed back out.

“I know it won’t.” His ocean-blue eyes were an abyss. “But then it wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

Gojo knew he hardly had the right to say it. You had only had one request of him when you got together, one thing that worried you about getting involved with him and his reputation. And he had blown it all up.

It didn’t matter that it was his first love, his high-school ex that he never really got over. It didn’t even matter that he had a good excuse when it came down to it. You had caught Gojo with his tongue down someone else’s throat, and ended it on the spot.

So he dragged himself and his self-pity around campus, half-heartedly instructing the first years when he wasn’t busy volunteering for suicide missions.

You kept your broken heart well-hidden, quietly requesting a transfer to Kyoto at the end of this semester. You looked right through him when you couldn’t avoid him entirely, and found empty bathroom stalls to cry in afterward.

+++++++++++++++++

You had carefully planned your escape, steadily sending your belongings on to the Kyoto school and distancing yourself from the administration of the Tokyo campus for the past few weeks. Now moving day was here, a one-way ticket clutched in your hand. It felt both impossible and inevitable.

No one was there to see you off, as requested. Your closest friends would come visit and everyone else didn’t care much either way.

Except for the person you were running from.

You felt him before you saw him, his Six Eyes boring into you from across the station. His snow-white hair was scruffy, sticking up like he’d been pulling at it. Dark sunglasses hid his shadowed eyes.

“Gojo? What the fuck are you doing here?” You knew he could hear your harsh whisper from where he stood.

“Gojo, huh? Ouch.” He crossed the room in a blink, pushing up his glasses to show off an exaggerated wince, one eye scrunched shut. “That hurts.”

“Good. You should know how it feels. Now if you don’t mind, I have a train to catch.” You tried to step around him, but he easily mirrored you.

“It doesn’t leave for another ten minutes. Can we talk?”

“Talk? Talk about what, asshole? How your ex tasted?” A pointless shove against his broad chest.

Gojo caught your wrists in one hand. “Please.”

You made the mistake of eye contact, taking a half-step closer, and your heart broke open all over again. He was so beautiful, so desperate, his vulnerability a halo. The wound you had tried to cauterize with space and silence flared back to agonizing life.

He sensed your hesitation- he knew all your weaknesses- and used the opportunity to pull you into his arms. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry, you have no idea…” murmured apologies into your hair.

“Fuck you,” you said to his chest.

“I know, baby.” A shaky laugh. “I know.”

Against all your instincts, the longing to melt into his embrace, you stepped back. “Satoru…” you did your best to ignore the hope in his face when you used that name. “You can’t expect me to forget what you’ve done.”

“I don’t! I swear. Just please, don’t run away from this. From us. I can’t lose you.” He still held your wrists, your pulses knocking against each other.

“You already did.”

He lets go, off balance, like you’d punched him in the gut. Your train doors are opening and you’re turning away, not before you catch the shine of tears in his blue, blue eyes.

You’re sorry too, so goddamn sorry, but you’re stepping off the platform and there’s nothing left to say, even if you had the time to say it.

The doors close indifferently, your world cleaved in two. Before and after, inside and out. You turn back, watching him shrink into nothing as you pull out of the station. He watches you disappear for much, much longer.

[peachsayshi]

💭okay, but imagine playing a game of truth and dare with your friends. shoko asks you on a truth who you think would be the worst in a relationship, and you choose gojo.

he scowls at you with annoyance and argues who would bother putting up with you. it’s all in jest, you both always butt heads. something about your personalities, mei mei explained, like trying to insert a square peg into a round hole.

eventually, satoru makes you eat your words, because he’s actually the coziest, sweetest, most considerate man you’ve ever been with.

you often wonder why you thought the worst about him, and he often wonders if you still consider him a terrible choice 🥺

[ghxst-bird]

((I will never shut up about all the parallels in jjk))

[torusblindfold]

i hate whoever is responsible for this

[mrsoharaa]

cw; angst, +18 content MDNI, just here to air out some random scrumptious, heart wrenching angst to the masses (if I have to suffer so do you) :')) <'33

My heart is craving pain so, I'm literally just thinking about having a steamy, emotionless "one time fling" with Gojo in the messy vast space of your desk in your office. With you sprawled ever so deliciously amongst the smooth surface of your desk; legs wrapped around the pivoting solidity of his ravenous hips, languid moans breaking in bantered breaths and staggered gasps as you hazily gaze up at the completely focused and grunting towering sorcerer looming above you. Big, strong clammy hands gripping the curves of your burning waist, thrusting into you with sloppy, harden rigor.

Grunts out heavily as the silk of his blindfold slips pass his searing, brimming eyes gleaming over you in a hungry haste. Noting the radiant beauty that glimmered beneath him with glistening sweat and harmonic songs spilling from your plush-swollen lips.

Takes everything out of him not to cum right there and then inside of the soft, gummy walls of your sopping, inviting heat. Pants out more huskily, slurring in a disgruntled groan as he feels you convulse around his twitching length.

Hazily drops his head down as he lets the overwhelming pleasure surging through his body, consume him entirely. Ignoring the blank, disheartened stare you were giving him momentarily. Hiding back the unraveled, piled up emotions of hurt, betrayal and dishonor behind glossy, stinging irises.

You inhale a deep breath, blinking wildly as for a mere second, though you were 100 % sure that your mind was simply playing tricks on you, or more practically — the immense, traitorous euphoria splurging through you, made you see his face.

The moment Gojo lifts his fuzzy head again, a quicken flash of your mutual best friend and former lover, had blurred your vision. Replacing Gojo's illuminated, lighten features to his contrasting, lulling attributes.

With your pupils blown wide and your heart erratically thumping restlessly against your heaving chest, you can fully see Suguru's face more distinctively flushing along Gojo's. Your lips slightly part, but nothing sputters out.

Your heart feels like it was tearing into little pieces with every passing second you gawked at Gojo's contorting expression.

Left to blank stares and a frantic, crippling heart — your body instinctively flinches when you feel a soft, supple touch of a warm palm caress the tender skin of your torrid right cheek. You gasp out a low breath, blinking away the upbringing tears pouring down your plush flesh.

A supple thumb smooths along the moisten valley of your damped cheek. Consistent thrusts coming to a slow stop, peering gentle eyes of cerulean carefully studying you over.

He sees the hurt in your change of demeanor.

The way your body reacted to his sudden touch, the way your breathing was becoming more quieter and steady...the way your pretty eyes blink rapidly with thickening clumps of water, starring almost deathly into his own. So he stops. Continues to brush the pad of his thumb across the supple skin of your sodden cheek, polished lips thinning into a conflicted line. Balancing in between a content, heart catering smile to a mutually disheartening frown.

"Sa...Satoru I—" you mumble out in a low, broken whisper, trying to find the words best to deescalate your sudden outpouring of stinging tragedy and dismay. But he nods his head in understanding, pulls out of you delicately and leans forward to plant a tender kiss to your forehead. Vast, wide hands soothing up and down the sides of your trembling body, lulling you into a small tinge of comfort and ease.

"Shh shh, it's alright sweets..." he rambles calmly against your forehead, tending to you comfortingly and amiably.

Without realizing the wet familiar warmth of pooling strings of water cascading down his own cheeks.

[lxmelle]

It’s worth noting that the draft & final version of the KFC breakup scene tie to the same scene where Riko is being carried by Gojo. The message is similar. One was a draft after all.

I’m not & don’t wish to be involved in discourse over ships, but the bottomline is that Gojo could’ve ended Geto’s life at any time. I’m sure Geto knew that. He was waiting for Gojo to intervene; hence, the “you’re late Satoru”.

Just demonstrating how the dialogue in both the draft & the final version tie back into the same scene.

オマエは悪くない - used in this context, Gojo responded to Geto’s words saying that it didn’t matter if he was ok, since Riko lost her life, and it carried the meaning “it’s not your fault”.

「君に殺られるのなら悪くない」is the drafted version meaning, “to be killed by you, wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

The use of 悪くない can be don’t mind/OK.

But, if it is meant to draw a parallel w/ the scene in HI, then it implies that Geto is giving Gojo permission/will not fault him. He then moves onto say that Gojo should “be careful” not to kill anyone else but him, as he disappears.

Moving into the final version…. In HI Geto implies it’d be meaningless 意味がない to cull the civilians as they’re just followers

And that meaning is very important as a sorcerer.

Thus the one that made the final scene is Geto imploring Gojo to decide himself & it’s reminiscent of their exchange. Just as Gojo signs to stop him, he says: Kill if you want to kill, there would be meaning/意味がある

So Gojo is left to think about their exchange in either version.

It should have achieved the same thing from Gojo’s perspective either way.

If we think back to the first exchange, Geto stops Gojo from harming the innocents; he wants Gojo to stay true to it. The message is still “I won’t blame you if you kill me”. Whenever that is.

It’s interesting that Geto goes onto do what he preached: he kills Sonoda and Sonoda alone shortly after.

And just in case we need a reminder of who Sonoda is:

He, too, acted out what his message to Gojo was. I think he knew he deserved death & that Gojo should believe that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if he did.

Gojo’s first “human” life (not curse) he took was Toji’s. We dunno why he went after him when he said he didn’t want revenge. Was it to test his powers? Finish the battle? Regardless, Riko & Kuroi were avenged w/ Toji & Sonoda dead. They each avenged her death.

He also knew Gojo had the capacity in him to kill humans. Hence, phrases like “you could do it, Satoru” & “if I could be you” & “unlike you I’m soft/kind” & “there would be no meaning” have all been said by Geto to Gojo. So in my mind, he clearly wanted Gojo to kill him. It could’ve been appropriate for Gege to use the drafted version as a way for Geto to reiterate his message to Gojo all along - don’t kill humans. You stay on your path and fight for humans and I’ll descend as the monster because I can’t be a sorcerer.

He left the method & moment to kill him entirely up for Gojo to decide.

So if that is Gege’s intention for Geto to communicate to Gojo… The final version of their exchange may have been better because Geto didn’t dictate that Gojo should be careful not to kill anyone. And it wouldn’t sound like a threat / taunt where he’s warning Gojo not to open fire then & there. At most, I can imagine he wished to see Gojo respect him as a friend. But realistically, Geto had already accepted his death. And if he cared that much about his ideology and his ideology alone, he would’ve asked Gojo to “kill me now!” And be happy that humans died. “Or come with me!” And whoopee, his ideals could be realised. But he didn’t.

So it leads me to believe he wanted to let Gojo’s hand go like on the Ao no sumika cover. And not drag him down. And Gojo honoured that love Geto had for him although it was hard on them both. Gojo understood.

And honestly I don’t believe Geto necessarily harmed humans indiscriminately either. He seemed to embody the belief that only those who deserve to die should die, even if he said he wanted to force evolution and tried his best to self-affirm that he hated humans. He believed Gojo should do the same especially on his own path as a sorcerer, not curse user. Thus the advice of “be careful not to kill anyone other than me” was not misplaced.

Over time Geto might’ve come to believe that that was one of the reasons why Gojo didn’t fire at him then and there. Which is also why we saw Kenny recollect that scene and cook up that plan to seal Gojo in the box. But he was wrong and that 1% chance of Gojo opening his domain happened - Gojo took a calculated risk against humans “for the better good”.

More blabbing here if you’re interested: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/755427466440491008/just-some-thoughts-about-satosugu-and-how-they

[justrustandstardust]

[bliss-in-the-void]

Okay but the vocal tone, the tone!

“Hey, Satoru, long time no see” he spoke it softly, as if to say he sorely missed Satoru. He could have easily delivered the line like an old friend, boisterous and happy, slightly in a laugh, “hey, Satoru, long time no see!” But he didn’t.

It was soft. It was tender.

Kenjaku knows they love each other in a very deep and special way. He wouldn’t have said it like that if he saw those memories and concluded they were just friends.

[beemango5]

the eye of the beholder

————

I am never normal about anything ever

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

i’m not paying for anyone’s therapy