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chuchurio · 3 months ago

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"To the sea, you'll find me."

* Childe x fem!reader Synopsis: Childe must go to war. You promise to wait for him, waiting weeks, months, and eventually years with no sight of him. still, you remain loyal to him, things don't always go as planned though. Genre: Angsty (?), a little ooc, Yearning, implied deaths, fluff near the end! WC:5.6k

a/n: Yes. This is basically Odyssey/Epic brainrot, but make it the handsome ginger.

You frown, handing Childe the last satchel full of bread that’ll feed the army, risking their life in this rebellion. When he knew it was his turn to stand up for his people, he was preparing fleets by dawn. You, on the other hand, remained silent.

That night, the palace was more active than usual. Maids were rushing around, and servants were grabbing items and bags, anything that was in reach, preparing for the departure of the King. His eyes keep flickering back to you, waiting for you to respond to the news of his departure. You didn’t.

He’d raise a hand, gesturing forward, the servants bowing respectively before scattering away.

His footsteps are heavy, the sound growing closer until it stops right beside you.

The distant shouts of men and hurried movements would fill their silence, frozen in their own time.

“I’ll come back to you.” He whispered, his fingers pushing back a free strand of hair. Your heart throbs, fighting back the tears that wanted to spill, because no matter how much you plea for his stay, he still will leave for war.

“I know you will.” You cupped his face, taking in every feature of his one last time. Even if you didn’t say it out loud, a part of you was afraid, so deeply afraid this would be the last time you see him. The innocent coo broke your silence, its little plush hand reaching up curiously to grab at her father’s hand.

He chuckles, his gaze visibly softening at the sight. He presses his finger against the little hand, allowing her to curl her fingers around it. You couldn’t help but look back up at him, the faint smile he wore, the way he stared at your child.

“Ajax.” He looks up, staring directly at you.

“Promise me.” Your voice trembles, and he knows that you’re truly keeping quiet, so he doesn’t hesitate. “It’s me. When do I fail ya?” He smiles, and that only strengthens your worry. You couldn’t fathom to never see it again.

“This isn’t a joke, Ajax. Give me your word.” His eyes can’t seem to harden when looking at you, your struggle to remain calm for his sake will only confirm his choice to marry you. Because if not you, then who?

He presses his forehead against yours, sighing for a moment, your heart slows down, his voice only a soft murmur, “I won’t give you a reason to cry.” You kissed him gently, one last time before you began to miss the taste.

In less time than you can count, he’s filled the ships. The men who carry the weight of their families leave it at the harbor, tearful goodbyes and hopeful hugs around you.

He fixes the wool coat, his touch lingering longer in certain areas. His fingers tugged at the furred ears of your hat, trying to keep it down. He didn’t say it, but his blue eyes held none of the excitement they usually had.

“Snezhnaya needs their King.” He broke out of his trance, his blank stare now on you. The tip of your nose was a darker rogue, and the cold allowed a different shade to form.

“It’s a good thing they got their Queen,” he teased a smile that just barely reached his eyes. You touched his hand, slowly interlacing them into one. “She’ll be waiting…” you paused, a sigh leaving your lips, “I’ll be waiting..”

Dawn was kind enough to let the moon show off for a little longer, letting you have Childe for just a second more than you should.

He watches you in the stillness, slowly bringing your wrapped hands to his mouth. He holds it there longer than intended, but you knew this was his way of sealing his promise.

He will come back to you.

“Snezhnaya will never know its luck.” He muttered into your skin, his breath tickling a bit.

You’ll smile at him; a more public goodbye. He hugs you so tight, but it doesn’t feel like enough. He pressed a rough kiss to the top of your head, and in the middle of your embrace was his little bundle of joy, the gears to his decision.

You remain on land, and thousands of families split, including yours. You hear encouragement, along with cheers of hopeful victories, but all they had was hope.

You watch his silhouette become a blob and then nothing. Your daughter curled to your chest, unaware of what she’ll be missing.

You weren’t always the most patient, but for him, you were willing to sit and wait.

Time-tested your word.

You’d grow accustomed to the silence in your halls. The long corridors keep you company more often than not. The words that were once reassurance turn into a haunting pause.

After years of waiting, Snezhnaya never lost its cold, the freezing breeze similar to a sharp warmth. As the queen of this land, you keep your head high, your hair twirled into an updo that would give you a composed appearance.

Because truth be told, you’re crumbling.

Rumors of your husband being long gone spread like wildfire within months of him leaving. You’d await every ship, every foreigner with open arms and all ears, in the hope they’d bring news of your dearest Ajax. Not even the birds would chirp a response.

You’d be questioned about your position; he earned the title, but with his absence starting to show through the cracks, men were interested in a taste of the power. Take Snezhnaya and his token prizes right under his feet.

Your fingers ran down each string, braiding it into the other, crossing, and repeating. There was something peaceful about repeating the same actions, it was the only time your head got rest from the constant questions, suggestions.. confessions.

You’ve heard not a thing after the war. The travelers passed by and spread the news of your people who left. Word got back that you were victorious, and that brought little relief in your heart.

Celebrations would be heard on every street, things were looking up. You were happy to spend money on quality decorations, you had to commission merchants, artists, and the crest decorating the paper mache.

They were never hung.

With no sign of the king or his army, the people began to whisper, it was slow but crawling up the street and toward your castle. You didn’t blame them, You understood it wasn’t doubt but tradition to have a king by your side. You were more than capable, always had been.

“Mom?..”

The voice brought your fingers to a stop, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You keep forgetting to knock, sweetheart.”

“I did.. 3 times for good measure.” the soft thud of the heavy door closing behind you made a sigh leave your lips. You don’t even remember holding back your breath.

“Sorry, I must have my head in the clouds..” a chortle left out of you, trying to ease the young girl’s nerves. You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, slowly moving down and looping around your neck.

“Can I have mine there too?” She asked softly, her embrace warm. You lean back into her hug with a smile. Sometimes when you hear her voice, no matter how feminine.. you think of Childe, his promise not to leave her fatherless.

“Of course you can..”

The comfortable silence was kind upon your ears, the window giving you a view of cushions of white that formed. Your eyes closed for a second, basking in the whispers of the snow, and the quiet that lingers in the room.

“I heard he has armor that makes him appear feet taller.” The younger girl quipped, her head resting on your shoulder. You hummed a response, making her continue, “That he was an enigma. I heard that one from the baker down the market!”

You chuckled but kept your eyes closed, keeping your gestures to a minimum.

“I also heard.. he won the war .. and he’s coming home..” she lowered her voice, trailing off. It stung the poor girl the same way it made you look over your shoulder to comfort your child.

But she was barely a child anymore; her stubby little hands were longer and gentle, and her cute babbles had turned to eloquent sentences. Your baby was flourishing right in front of you.

You gesture for her to sit down on the chair beside your own. There were two chairs, one for you to sew, one for her to watch you.

“He will come home.” You reassured, your hand squeezing her own to console her. Archons know you need to heal yourself too.

She didn’t respond, playing with your fingers as if a question weighed heavy on her mind. She has a look similar to yours, a bit lost, a bit hopeless, and impatient. It makes you chuckle, her frustration making her eyes narrow just the way Childe’s did.

“What is it?” She was surprised to even hear something out of you.

“Your father was afraid you’d lose any part of him while he was gone.” Your fingers brushed through her hair, reminiscent. “But you’re everything he was and even more.”

And she was, the charming smile was riddled of her father, the competitive nature that she had, a hunger to succeed—This palace could never make her feel as much yearning as when she looks at the product of their love.

She was like a ghost, the closest thing you had to Childe.

She crinkled her nose before softly resting her head on your shoulder. Her hand rested atop of yours with gentle circles soothing you, “We’ve got time.. I’ll make sure to make time..” she whispered, silently watching the tapestry you had sewn.

And like she said, there was time. You’re used to the routine, working elegantly on a tapestry honoring the king by day and delicately undoing it by night. That’s what you told yourself, that you were delicate with it.

There were nights you’d go to the tapestry and snag at the ends of the thread. Your head was hot, and the portraits only made this heavy burden you carry grow. Your nails would dig into the craft and tear somewhere as a starting point for tomorrow. Your fingers would burn as you broke into the tapestry, and you’d cry the first few years, but with time, your face would only twist into a scowl. You were angry with the archons; there were times you were angry with Childe, and then there were times when you were angry at yourself for not being strong enough.

You feel the faint breeze of the night, calling for your attention. Slowly, you move to the edge of the open window, letting the scenery call out to you. The sky is a soft blue, the ocean reflecting the bulbous shape of the moon. It brings a sweeping thought each time, so hopeful, and part of you believes it’s naive, yet you know.. Your gut tells you he’s there.

You rest your chin on your palm, the other clutching your chest as your heartbeat slowed to its normal rhythm. You speak to no one, but surely the sea will deliver it for you,

“I’ll buy you all the time you need.”

When your maids ask you why your fingers are tender and your hands have blemishes, you’ll smile and respond, “I keep assisting in the kitchen; there is no need to worry, ladies.”

A moon cycle would pass before your daughter bursts into your room, heaving and face red.

“Sweetheart, what happened–”

“They know.” she gasped out.

Your eyes widen, flickering to the unfinished tapestry. You look back at her, and although there is fear gnawing at you, your daughter seems petrified that the truth is out. As a mother, you swallow the emotion to ease her own.

As a queen, you have to prepare for the worst.

“Know as in speculation?” Your daughter shook her head, struggling to catch her breath. “No. they’re chanting for justice, that–that you owe them, mom–” she’s tripping over her words, making you reach for her hands. You run your thumbs across her hand and soften your tone. “It’s okay. I’ll make a statement.”

You walk toward the large dining hall, your daughter by your side and fixing her tiara. The roars of anger grew louder as you stood behind the double doors.

“If I were a man, they would listen to what I say,” your daughter muttered, upset that her own claims get ignored even with her status.

“Don’t let that stop you from speaking up.” You tuck a stray hair behind her ear, fixing her up just a bit.

She gives you a worried smile, letting out a sigh. “Is it going to be okay? We can call for the diplomats and guards to feel more secure–” You chuckle, shaking your head.

“No, I got it from here.”

She frowns. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t let them touch a hair on you.” You smiled and gave her a reassuring nod before turning back to the doors.

When you pushed them open, there was no silence, but the anger was more than deafening. You could feel the stares gravitate with each step you took, like the center of a bright light. All of the gazes trail back to the princess who walks behind you.

‘We’ve waited long enough!’ ‘When will there be a king?’ ‘Y/n, make your choice!’

‘Justice! Justice! Justice!’

‘King is long gone!’ ‘No more delay!’ ‘Y/n who shall be crowned?’

A mix of complaints, urgences, and disappointment rang through the hall, and there was no deterring this. You have avoided it long enough.

You raise your hands only to slowly bring them down, motioning them to quiet down for your response.

Even when they demand of you, they follow your orders, the yells and chatter growing silent.

“Gentlemen, I must make an apology to you all. I’ve been grieving my loss with no progress; your impatience is understandable.”

They're watching you in silence, expectant, their eyes demanding and visually threatening the next words that’ll come out of your mouth.

You take a deep breath, coming to your only and last option.

“The man who can string my husband’s prized bow, shoot through 12 axes to the center of this target,” as you speak, your servants are quick on their feet, setting up the axes, foretold if the day were to come of this challenge, to arrange your final act of freedom.

It took some time before it was set, the men smirking, even chattering between themselves knowingly as if they weren’t each other’s enemy starting from here on out.

“Will sit at the throne, ruling by my side as king.” Ecstatic cheers echoed through your halls, cocky assumptions without even touching the bow. You watch in silence, reaching around your neck, and unclipping the ruby that rests on your chest.

You raise your voice, cutting through the conversations. “It must shatter this ruby, a possession of the king, a gift for me!” Of course, you wouldn’t let any man just replace your husband.

Some smiles remained, while others scowled at the new requirement. Who were they to complain.. you gave them what they wanted.

You glance down at the necklace, your heartache just as raw as when you watched his ship depart.

It was hard to let go of it. But with its destruction, so will your strength and vitality. You’ll succumb to the fate of this very gift.

You allow the maidens to hang it behind the target, and expectantly, the men gather round hungry for a start, smiling and seething with pride, muscly and boastful. It was a pile of nothing that could compare.

You’d ask to replace the glimmering ruby waiting to shatter behind the target but you knew your daughter would deal with the consequences.

Some of these men weren’t men— boys. When it comes to power no one gives a damn. You weren’t even allowed to grieve the king. No, not you.

You stare blankly at the crowd, tossing the bow with a necessary force, the only glimpse of odious resentment.

“Do your best, and may the Tsaritsa grant you her strength.”

It’ll never be enough.

You watched the first few with little anticipation, the closer one got to the center, the more blood would rush to your head. You didn’t want to guess if it were the nerves that you were right, or that one would eventually manage to shatter your necklace.

“Mother.. if you must, you may leave..” your daughter spoke softly, respectfully around the suitors and maids, her hand on your arm.

You smile and give her a nod, “That I shall..” your eyes move back to the men, towering, blind mice leading the other.

You stood up, offering one last look to the suitors before slipping away into your halls. You perch on the window, hearing the birds caw and soar through the skies. For such a gloomy situation, it was a beautiful day. The sun is smiling, the sea is singing, and something about it makes today just so special.

“Find your daughter.”

It was a distinct voice, you’d never heard it before. You whip your head back, looking for the source. There was nobody, not a single soul around you. You take a step away from the window, trying to process what or who you heard.

Is that important? Your gut sinks, and that is enough to drag you back into the dining hall. She’s gone.

Your eyes dart toward the suitors almost accusingly, although they’re still preoccupied with the task at hand.

Where is she?..

A simmering panic settles in, rushing down the halls. You’re used to her disappearing, but never when these men were nearby. It was the one thing you asked of her.

You’d enter vacant rooms, swift through the kitchen, and the gardens – not a single sight of her has been confirmed.

Until the sound of shuffling made you stop in place.

“You piece of shit- let me go!”

‘Woah there, didn’t know the princess had a dirty mouth,’ a dark chuckle barreled into your bones, your blood running cold. A suitor has already broken off.

You press your body against the wall, your heart screaming for you to move, your mind and body disagreeing on your next course of action.

‘Come onnn, I’ll show you just how good being a woman is–’ A loud shriek left the man, and a hard thud echoed, your daughter audibly wincing.

‘This bitch bit me!’ He barked out, making you turn the corner with swift ease.

He glares down at your child, the same look reflected up at him. ‘The queen doesn’t need you anyway, I’ll do her a favor’

“So kind of you to offer yourself.” It was merely a whisper from you before kicking at the back of his knees, knocking him down in surprise. There was no leeway for him to get up, you straddle his back and grab a handful of hair.

A harsh yank back before slamming him down against the tiles.

You heard a groan, your arm like a heavyweight slamming his head right back down with a firm grip. Then you did it with more intent, shoving him to meet the beautiful tiles Childe let you pick.

He had you picking colors, designs, types of wood, all these small and significant differences to make the castle to your liking.

“Ohhhh, I think red would look much nicer.” He exasperated, nudging your shoulder.

“I think it would ruin the atmosphere, neutrals will look best, something warm but not dark, and a design at the center, see my vision?” he didn't respond, his gaze lingered on you.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just like hearing ya.” He gave you a coy smile, making you roll your eyes, but your smile betrayed you.

“Corny.” You muttered, making him chuckle, “oh? Is that so? Let me show you what’s really corny—“ he grabbed you by your waist, lifting you higher in his arms, earning a yelp and fits of laughter.

You always thought he had a way of getting what he wanted, but he never attempted to with you.

Getting you had been enough.

“Mom! That’s enough!”

Your face felt hot, your knuckles white as they continued to rock the man’s head into the tiles, the cruel crunch and thick liquid audible.

The warm droplets falling on your hand, you were heaving. You’ve been crying with a rage that had been begging to come out. It got the best of you.

His nose was flattened, disfigured. He was surely dead, with the features melting into the other, you finally let go.

This random guy had just proven your point why red floors would’ve been a terrible idea, it makes the place more solemn.

“We— We have to go —“ screams could be heard from the dining hall. The sound of scattering, fear, and anger fell upon the halls of your home.

You stumbled back up, picking up the ends of your dress, the fur at the bottom uneven as you lifted it. “Upstairs, go— go!-“ Your daughter's reflexes kicked in, finally standing up from where she had been previously thrown.

The noises from the dining hall erupted out into the corridors, screams from men spilling through the castle. You watch as your daughter rushes toward the main stairs, picking up the ends of her dress and sprinting upward. You follow behind, staggering to glance back at the chaos.

You caught glimpses of the suitors, the higher you climbed, the more you could see their bodies decorating your floors. Your tiles were drowned in a scarlet red that resembled your carpets. Whatever had come through, its aim is deadly, ruthless even.

“Where do I–” You grab her by the hand, tugging her toward your room. It was the safest option up there, an emergency exit carved due to Childe’s persistence. If Childe were to come back.. His castle would have been overrun, his home in shambles from the inside.

There was no time to think about it.

“It’s a threat, isn’t it? Someone has gone rogue.”Your daughter lets out a sigh, running her fingers through her hair, trying to comb the situation.

“It was bound to happen, right? – No one is willing to let it go- Mom, you knew it would get this bad? Right? –”

You were busy bolting from corner to corner, a woven bag in your hand as you placed valuables inside. The truth is, you never thought of stalling this long. You didn’t think you had to. Somewhere along the way, you had to realize that you needed a way out.

“Mom!” Her voice was trembling, making you stop for just a moment. You tie a knot on the bag, your words hard to push out.

“I didn’t want to do it.” You pause, placing the bag on your bed. “I didn’t plan to wait so long, or that I’d be relying on my gut, I didn’t plan to be this helpless.” You did everything to your wits' end. Extended grieving, openly abstaining, distractions around Snezhnaya that’ll keep the buzz long enough, the tapestry, the challenge, everything.

You look toward her, clutching the bag close, “You don’t need to worry, I’ll take care of the rest here..” She looked at you suspiciously, “What do you mean–”

The rustling down the halls, doors being slammed open with the echo travelling down the halls.

“I mean, there is no time. You will leave. Uncle Teucer will receive you, and– and you let him know that the throne has been defied.” Her face dropped, shaking her head, “No I can’t leave–”

The closer the slamming got, the less time there, and the groans of anguish from the bottom grew faint.

You urged her into the large closet, her retaliations falling silent, her eyes trembling with fear not for herself but for you.

“If you don’t hear me anymore– listen, you don’t hear my voice, you break at the stone, there should be an open space leading to the dock. Don’t wait too long for me.”

She’s struggling to speak, only able to tug you close for a hug. Finally, she breaks down in tears, hugging you so close as if you were to vanish.

“I’ll meet you there, sweetheart. It’ll be okay,” you coo, running your bruised hand through her hair, combing her sobs to silence. You don’t know how long you remained that way, this woman shrinking in your embrace, like when she would hide in your arms from the harsh storms at a young age.

You didn’t want to alarm her.

You give her one tight squeeze before letting go, closing the doors for her safety. The thudding was growing louder.

You press your body against the large door, collecting yourself the best way you can. You rush to the bed, time is trailing at your feet, and every decision you’ve made has led to this. You kneel to reach for the familiar bronze-headed spear. It was yours in your days of traveling, one you used before settling down to become queen.

You never thought you’d have to use it this soon.

The door barricaded you, the harsh thuds as someone—or something tried to gain access. You prepared yourself, kissing your wedding ring while aiming the spear right ahead.

You’ll die serving your people. You'll die protecting your baby. You’ll die if you have to.

The door didn’t hold out for much longer, crashing open with a slam to the ground. Your eyes are trained on the dust, aiming back with your arm. Your heart thrums in your ears, pumping loudly through your head..

You’re scared, but not enough to surrender.

“I don’t care who you are. Retreat.” You couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice, pointing directly at the gouged-out area where your door once was.

The anonymous figure walked forward, making you do the same. Your arm lifted higher, ready to strike down.

“Back off.”

The dust settled down, wanting to show you a gift, to reveal a face you have yearned to meet again. Bloodied, with fresh wounds, and with clothes torn at certain points. But alive.

“Ajax?”

The spark in his eyes was gone, and the coy smile you were always greeted with looked impossible with how he barged into your bedroom.

“(Y/n)..” It was barely audible, making your back straighten, your eyes scanning every feature. He looked different, so.. so tired.

His gaze was dull, signs of aging riddled across his face, scars where there were none before, a frown where there never used to be one, his gear tattered, and the helmet was missing altogether. He looked like Childe,

But signs of what he was once were out of sight.

You watch him silently again, slowly reaching your hand out to him, trying to touch his face.

“Is it really you??”

He didn’t smile, but a long sigh left his lips, his shoulders loosening at the sight of you. “I couldn’t break it.” He hoarsely spoke, evading your touch by placing the very ruby necklace you left back in your hand. Intact.

Your eyes softened, unable to stop yourself from clutching it close. “Thank you.. I’ve missed you–” your free hand extends up, trying to cup his face.

He flinches back, stiffening at your attempt. You furrow your brows, your hand in the air, waiting to be accepted.

“Ajax. . .” your fingers moved just a bit, his eyes flickering over to them with unsurity.

He looked hesitant to breathe; his eyes were dim but hopeful to be in front of you again. “I’m a bad person. You know that.. right?” He muttered, his eyes trained on your hand before going back up to your face.

You look at him in confusion, whispering back, “What do you mean?”

“I killed so many people... I’ve had blood on my hands from the moment I left you.” He breathes in as if he were to shatter, like he didn’t pull himself from the depths of solitude to stand in front of you again.

“I’m nothing that you should accept. You deserve someone better, someone who didn’t crush others, someone who can be warm.” He grabs your hand, pressing it to his chest, silently requesting that you feel his heartbeat.

It was irregular, beating in a rhythm you still recognized.

“Did you go into war thinking you wouldn’t?” You asked softly, not sure how to approach his emotions, there’s turmoil he carries, and in sight it awakens the dormant ones he left here, with his child and wife.

“I’ll taint you.” He tried to reaffirm as if it would stop you from clutching his skin, a fist forming against his chest.

“Aren’t we all?” He tore away from you, shaking his head, “I betrayed many, I watched my men die, I couldn’t save a single one, y/n I am not worthy of a thing.. Especially not you.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at the ground, then back toward you, “I’m not who you think I am.”

You stare at him silently. He’s not going to budge, you’ve never seen him so tormented by his past. He’s suffered greatly from the moment you knew him, and he was bloodthirsty for experience and adventure. But not like this;

“Fine. You’re not.”

His frown deepened, frozen in place. “In that case, grant me one last wish,” you muttered, looking down at the necklace in your palm.

You dangled it, stretching your arm out towards him. “Take this and bury it. Far, far away, it is a rock that deserves rest.” Any ounce of exhaustion on his face was replaced with shock.

Then anger. Hurt.

“You .. You serious?” His voice was barely a whisper, looking at you with disbelief.

“It took me days to make this happen— I gave that to you as a promise, you know that? From the same stone you held out to me!” His earring still remained on his ear, the only thing of his that wasn’t completely damaged. The beautiful ruby was split in two, jewelry that remains with both of you.

“I gave that to you before our wedding day. I traveled everywhere and this was for you!” He was yelling; his hand pressed to his chest,

“You know that as a queen, you can’t get rid of something like this!” His voice was raw, he looked like he might genuinely burst into a rage of tears.

Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes, the loss of youth, the loss of time. His loss. “I’m your wife first!”

You endured countless comments, Loneliness, parenthood, and grief from the moment the sun arose to the dawn where you still lie awake in a pitiful nightmare.

“The sea won’t take you, the soldiers won’t take you, not even the archons can take you—“ you roughly grab his hands and press them to your heart the same way he did to you. He doesn’t dare look at you, struggling to process your words.

“You’re not at war, I’m not war! Don’t fight for me when you’ve had me all along— Ajax, I’m commanding you to look at me!” The faucet started on its own. Somewhere along the way, you managed to break his. You watch the life in his eyes color in, unable to hide how nice it felt to see it again.

“I’ll be your right hand until my bones cave to this dirt. Do you hear me? I would wait and wait, wait to see you in flesh or when I dissolve because I’m yours.”

He’s always been a bit broken, but so are many; the difference is this man has been stripped of the very pride you adored. And if it took you till old age to rebuild him, then that’ll be your fate.

“I will always be yours.”

His eyes softened, a cry of sorts leaving his lips as he pulled you into a hug. You hold on to him, your fingers holding him so close just to make sure he won’t disappear. Sobs leave your body, and he reassures you with soft words, apologizing for your wait, while you continue to reply with apologies for his journey.

He cupped your face, tear-streaked and reddened. You didn’t wait for a cue; you leaned forward, meeting his lips with a tender kiss. He pulled you closer, feverishly tasting you. It’s been too long.

His hands ran over your body, tracing every curve he had memorized from the moment he left. You run your fingers through his hair, reminding yourself that he was right in front of you. You’d break away for a breath, and he found it as a sign to kiss you again, leaving you lightheaded, urgent.

Finally, he pulled away, out of breath. His eyes were warm, and his thumb brushed against your cheek. He pressed his forehead against yours, “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

You smile, closing your eyes. It’s been too long.

“Never be sorry.”

You kept your promise to your sweet girl. Heading to the dock the same way she went. Childe hadn’t said anything, but he held your hand firmly, fingers enlaced. That was all you needed.

Considering all that's been damaged, the sun does seem brighter, the sea a lot quieter today. Blood that’s been shed doesn’t compare to the soaring high in your chest.

Walking down the wooden trail, you tug him toward the docking area.

You told her to leave, and surely you should believe she left.

But there she was in the cold. Silently waiting, sitting at the edge of the dock. It’s the most silence she’s gotten in a while, you can’t blame her.

You feel Childe grip your hand harder, his eyes wide at the sight of the girl.

“Sweetheart,” you said softly, making the girl jump in surprise. She glances back, a look of relief crossing her features. Her eyes then flickered to Childe, her brows furrowing, scrambling to get up to get a better look.

“Father?..” she whispered, a question, almost a request.

He opens his arms, trembling to hold up.

“I’m home.”

#genshin imagines #childe x reader #childe x you #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #genshin x reader #ajax x you #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #childe #epic the ithaca saga #Churi's Melodies ⋆｡♫

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chuchurio · 6 months ago

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“Perfectly fine."

* Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Synopsis: Gojo becomes your project partner and things don’t go as planned. You distance yourself only to run into him at a party.

Genre: slow burn, a bit angsty, College AU, polar opposites, Gojo making a fool of himself,

WC: 7.1k

Warnings: Drinking. That’s it lol.

You were supposed to be having fun at this party. You’ve been waiting for the weekend to drink and forget your responsibilities. You’re not new to the image of drunk college students and sweaty bodies with the linger of hormones in the air.

It was normal. Everyone wants to unwind, and give in to the haze and blurs that alcohol provides. Sure, a majority of you were drinking under the age requirement but there’s a liberty not many experience when you willingly take a sip of that bitter mixture.

This still fucking sucks.

You drag out a sigh and fix your posture against the wall. You weren’t usually stuck to it, even when people would push and shove. You’d usually be slotted between people, rolling your hips and gravitating toward anyone allowing the rhythm to erase time. This though? Not cool and it hasn’t been ever since he popped up.

He was such an obnoxious idiot that you swore to steer away from him because although you weren’t one for prejudice— he was someone you’d never consider talking to. He’s always been there, and could almost make you believe in that little cliche of red strings.

If there were any romantic feelings involved of course.

That wasn’t the case. .

It started in the communications course you took. The class was just a filler for you, something that was supposed to be an easy pass. You were sitting alone like in most classes you didn’t care much for. Your advisor had said the class would be the easiest ‘A’ you’d receive in the semester, feeling dumb if you didn’t take it. So you did what any person would do for a degree.

The metal chairs had enough space to move but not enough to where you could accidentally touch elbows. It’s a cramped place, but it’ll have to do for a few months. It’s common for students to leave an empty seat for their bags or even just simple boundaries.

God knows you needed a bit of that.

Nonetheless, it was short-lived, a loud thud making your body take a screenshot and your blood freeze. The backpack was thrown carelessly by your feet, already a bad sign. you look up to see who is disturbing your peace.

“‘Voluntarily signing up’ is not what I would call it.” He complained on the phone with a frown, annoyed at the receiver.

The man was handsome. You couldn’t lie, he had a charm to him that didn’t require speech, a little smile and it’d bring a flock of women, blue eyes that you’d poke fun at if it wasn’t for how.. complimentary it was on him? He had nepo baby written all over him.

Best you mind your business.

Good for you.

Then he outstretched his legs over the table, pretty close to your notebook as he continued to yap ignorantly while remaining too close for comfort.

You held back a glare and flickered your eyes over to him, slowly scooting your notebook to the left, deciding to go a passive route. Until he moved them again—

“Excuse me. Can you please not?” You requested softly but he didn’t even offer you a glance. Were you not loud enough? What the hell is this dude’s deal?

He continued to talk without regard to what you asked for – as if you were a fly buzzing along his ears.

This is the part you truly regret. Deep, deep, down.

You harshly shoved his legs off the table, earning a stumbled sentence out of the white-haired guy.

“Fuck– hey! It’s rude to interrupt a phone call!” his gaze fell on you and found your eyes staring right back at him with a smidgen of anger.

Gojo hadn’t taken a glance around the room, too busy being annoyed to take into account who was in the class. All he asked for was a free period. He wanted time to maybe go lounge around the many campus lobbies, give a pretty sight to tourists who’ll be in awe of his appearance, or even bother his friend Suguru about the latest mistakes he made.

Instead, he was placed in a boring ass communications class.

He’s been trying to contact his advisor to fix this shit all week, and he’s been ignoring his calls. He had been ranting to Suguru the whole way, flashing a smile toward familiar faces. To the ones he’d fuck around with at least.

Now he was here, staring right back at your pretty eyes. His tone took a turn from its original annoyance.

“Well, You’ve got all my attention.” his voice was smooth, similar to how a hot pan bubbled cold butter. It could’ve sent chills down your spine.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by his facade.

“Watch your legs.” You repeated more sternly. You could feel his eyes scan you — honestly, he’s shamelessly moving his gaze up and down your figure. Your eyes narrowed at the blatant stare.

He chuckles, giving you a practiced smile that comes with ease, “Didn’t think it got in your way, faults mine.” He didn’t actually pay attention to what he had done before, his mind set to ask about the woman beside him.

“What’s ya name?”

You make a hum, not giving him a proper answer.

“Okay – mmm, I like it. Easy name to call out for you.” He gave you a wink, only earning a confused look from you. You weren’t picking up any of his bullshit, this was easy to see, you were a good observer after all. If your demeanor didn’t show it, surely your grades did.

Your nose scrunched in distaste, his flirtation crashing against the wall you built around yourself. There was an awkward silence, his smile growing strained as you exchanged opposite expressions. You only sighed and muttered a little ‘Please don’t let it happen again.’

It was disappointing, to say the least.

But not for Gojo. You were pretty but not anything he’d go for initially. He had a large pallet, just not a frequent one to stay with a single option. Why do that when he could get a bit of here and there? He respects the grind you got, he can see it in the way you meticulously toy with your pen, how you didn’t hide your view, flickering occasionally in coordination with the important things around the room. Not people though.

He can be observant too when it benefits him.

After this interaction, there wasn’t much to it. You didn’t think he’d even sit there again with the way things went the first day. To your surprise (and misfortune), he would sit there every class. He learned your name through the professor, explicitly accentuating the syllables in your name. You learned to ignore him, offering hums as responses. He grew tolerable, not likable, but tolerable.

The only thing you two really had was a greeting, the most exchange of words you both had aside from the little banter you shut down. It was the same shit every time too–

“Y/n, the only thing I like about this class, how’s it going?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Perfectly fine.”

It became a common exchange at each class meeting, some days there was more than just that. Regardless, you kept it at a minimum for your sake. You weren’t a bitch, you swore up and down to yourself that you just can’t keep up with his lifestyle.

The first thing you notice; is his popularity. People took the time out of their day not only to say hi to him but to have a full-on conversation. He wouldn’t rush it either, he’d stand outside of class just to wrap it up. You could never have that much attention.

The next thing to catch your eye was the amount of women around him. Again, it’s none of your business – however! When you do run into him, he’s either standing there with charm mode activated or with discomfort. The discomfort is usually when he’s rejecting a girl- again, that’s neither here nor there.

And finally, the biggest problem was; that he was pretty. It might seem like he was harmless, but that’s how he dragged you in. And you weren’t going to be one of them.

All you have to do is stay away from Satoru Gojo, and you’ll survive the class. That plan would’ve gone great if this communication class didn’t require a partner project.

The professor didn’t like you, because ‘GOJO’ is written beside your last name in big fat letters. You had to be cursed, there was no way they partnered you up with him! His name settled beside yours like it was taunting you right in the face. You heard a faint snicker, making you glance in its direction. Gojo failed to hide his smirk, the cough he made couldn’t disguise it. You sat there, trying to make an excuse, your brain and mouth not cooperating to form words but rather sounds.

“So, Y/n, you’re the lucky gal huh?” You looked up at him, slight disgust making him put his hands up in defeat with a lazy smile appearing in defense.

You frantically look around if anyone is just as disturbed by their assigned partner, but no one bats you an eye.

“Fuck.” you grumbled weakly, with a sigh. You’d have no choice anyway.

It was the start of this whole mess.

It was a challenge to meet up at first. You’d text a time, sometimes a day, and his response would be along the same lines.

‘Ohhhh I have practice today’

‘Ahh that was today?? I’m not on campus’

‘I was free buttt I’m tutoring’

That tutoring one was a complete lie to begin with, you caught on after seeing him with girls from the cheer team, sometimes the volleyball players. You had no faith in his reliability.

You’d show up to the library, silently skimming and taking notes on what was needed, the smell of food in the dining hall would occasionally greet you when you studied there. One of these days you were bound to run into him, which you did.

His laugh came to a rough halt, shoes squeaking in a stop too. “Y/n?? Woahhh didn’t think I’d see you here.” He looks surprised, a bit guilty? He should be anyway.

You flicker your gaze to the pretty brunette beside him. She wasn’t fazed by the interaction, continuing to sip on her drink while looking directly at you.

“Yeah.. who’d figure I’d come study… at a library..” you uttered out. He makes a wince, scratching the back of his neck. “I dont have my laptop on me right now…” it was like he was trying to negotiate.

He suddenly perked up, the imaginary lightbulb obvious with the way his demeanor changed. “You can come to my dorm tomorrow, swear I’ll have everything laid out for you,” you narrow your eyes, not convinced.

“I already have most–”

He pushes up his glasses, doing one of his poses (were they timed? You weren’t sure) “I wouldn’t be an amazing partner if I didn't offer, I know.”

That’s how you ended up walking up to his dorm building. Good thing you set things straight beforehand, a little plan for you two to follow.

You had taken the time out of your day to research the information that might align with your points, making a document of the ones that would support your argument. You gave him a few links and met to discuss which would work. It’s as easy as it sounds.

It didn’t go as you thought.

“Gojo please just read this last paragraph so I can take my ass to bed.” You complained, shaking the distracted man to offer a sliver of attention to the listed sources.

He scoffs and lets out a loud dramatic sigh, “I will! I will! Just let me finish this level real quick.”

After a few hangouts, you’d expect him to stop being so childish. You thought that it was one of those things where the person acts like an idiot but is secretly a mastermind of sorts. You’ve been trying to get him to meet up again and it’s been difficult to pin him down.

It’s like everyone wants Gojo for something, Not you though, you’re forced to.

“I have to walk back to my dorm and it's freezing cold–” He wasn’t listening to you. You glared at the white-haired man, irritated.

You couldn’t take it anymore, with a huff you reached for his phone – with much protest – and turned it off.

“Seriously. We need to get it together! I need a good grade!” He only whines and tries to reach for his phone again.

“Come onnnn just let me finish it!” he reached up, making you flex your arm higher.

“No. We’re getting this done–”

He scoffs again, “I’m taller than you don’t forget that.”

He flexed farther than you, his arm pressed against yours as you fought to keep it out of his reach. You’d try to push him off, annoyed he gave it a shot. He does the same, trying to gain the upper hand.

“Dude it’s not that serious!” He huffed out, your arm moving swiftly in the air to keep out of his reach.

“I should be saying the same to you-” You yelp at the sudden weight that toppled over you. Gojo overpowered you quickly, making you fall in defeat. His hand shot out in an attempt to not completely fall on you.

You freeze, staring back at him with a surprised expression. He does seemingly the same with his smile nowhere to be seen.

You blink. He blinks.

He stares. You stare.

After a few awkward seconds, you clear your throat, turning your head to the side to avoid eye contact. Breaking him out of his trance, he swiftly backs up, trying to act nonchalant about the accident.

“I’ll read through it tomorrow.” He said, leaning his back against the small makeshift desk. You sit up, gently scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.” You reached for your books, closing your laptop and gesturing to his door, “I should like, probably head back–” He agreed almost immediately, helping you pack your things.

But that wasn’t the only time things... Were weird.

A few days later he began to greet you outside of class. It was something small, but it made a difference when the people he hung out with gave him a strange look. You’d only offer a little wave and remain casual or else you’d overthink the way you walk too.

Then he began to frequent the actual library suggestions. Letting him know that you research the topics a few hours before discussing them with him. It was a way for you to think... Until he started appearing for that as well.

You were sitting at a small cubicle-like table, the booths private with the only way in being from the left. He was busy lazing around on his phone, flickering to you once in a while. You were silently reading over the added post, with a sigh. “I don’t know why you keep reading over it, is it that bad?” he asked mindlessly, earning a bit of a scowl from you.

“An A is considered anything above a 93, for this specific project,” you read it out loud, hoping he’d feel the same about it. He just looked at you, before shrugging and going back to scrolling through his phone. “I’ll take a C too.. It’s passing,”

“That’s it?? You’re just conceding that fast??” He raised a brow, looking over at you with confusion, “Conceding is a bit dramatic don’t you think?–” You shake your head and push back your hair from your face as if it’d fix the score details.

He has caught onto that habit, the way you want to be upset but don’t know if to focus on working with the new information or if to let the feeling take over. He sighs and slides over to your side, “Alright what about the rest of them?” You open your mouth to rebuttal, wanting to tell him that it didn’t matter because an A is the only reasonable grade.

“Aht– I said what are the other scores, we know an A is higher than a 93.” You go silent, reluctantly sharing your laptop screen with him.

“92 to 85 is a B, and 84 to 78 is a C,” He nods slowly, listening to you read the score grades for the project. “And a D?” You shot him a glare, making him raise his hands in defense. “Kidding– jeez tough crowd.” He mumbled.

You can see him looking at the scores with the same disdain. He makes a hum, his thumb pressing to his chin before making a hum. “The most you’re getting out of me is a C,”

You gasp, shaking your head, “Seriously?? Not even a B??” Your voice held a tremble, in disbelief at his honesty.

“I can give something in the low 80’s if I try–”

“That’s not even closer to a B Satoru!” You whisper yelled, nudging his shoulder. He dramatically fell back, a whine leaving his mouth. “Have some mercy on a soul like mine, don’t you have some compassion?” He batted his lashes, your stare in disgust as if he were some pest.

“Seriously, I’ll help you out just tryyyy for that A pleaseee” You groaned out, trying to come up with a sort of excuse that’d encourage him. “A deal. Care to give me an offer?” He said teasingly, sitting up and once again interested, hoping you took the bait.

You huff, gnawing at your thumb to think. Something that Satoru would want.. a motivation of sorts.. He already has money and luxuries she can’t even afford.

He was watching silently, he’s grown to find pleasant the way your features would seem alert when you tried to focus. Your brows would crinkle just a bit, lips wrapped around your finger while you nibble on your nail in thought.

“How about.. You do most of the talking for the presentation.. And I’ll do all the slides, you won't lay a finger aside from researching!” You quipped, looking over to see him looking at you silently. He hummed in response, “Hmmm I guess.” He said softly.

That’s when you noticed just how close he was, his leg pressed close to yours, resting his chin against his palm as he kept his eye on you.

He was close, too close for comfort, your body growing warm at the proximity. You swore you saw his gaze flicker down, his words leaving an unkept flutter in your stomach.

“Is there anything else an A can get me?” His voice was low, the question technically innocent. Your body felt otherwise.

Your mouth goes dry as if kindergarten had never done its job to teach you the alphabet, like the letters look more like symbols and you can’t communicate— that type of feeling.

You tear your gaze away, a choked laugh making its way out. “W-We can go to that dumpling stand near campus. It’ll be on me.” You scoot away, your attention diverted elsewhere.

Unbeknownst to you, he was disappointed at your retraction, strangely hoping you would’ve remained in that position.

—————————

Days would go by, forcing him to stay late to study, reaffirming his tone to perfection. He would complain at first, reluctant to show up. You went as far as getting in contact with that pretty brunette he was with last time.

“So.. He’s actually trying to get a higher grade than a C?” She asked with a hint of surprise to her tone. You nod, trying to get her on board with your meticulous plan, “An A to be exact.. I really need the grade..”

“And he agreed to it?” She asked, eyebrow raised. You nod once again, “He’ll focus on speech and delivery, while I do the background stuff.. I just need him to remain concentrated.” His word was something but having extra help wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

“Wow.. is that so?” she trailed off, making you a bit nervous. You quickly reassured the woman, “Are you dating him? Because I don’t have intentions of–” The girl’s eyes widened before letting out a dry laugh.

“That’s not it- I’m just surprised he is promising to try for an A… he’s more of a.. you know,” she makes a little motion with her arm and shrugs, “Go with the flow typa guy.”

You felt a growing embarrassment wondering why you assumed that was an option to begin with—specifically the dip in her stomach while waiting for her response.

You’d come to find out the girl’s name was ‘Shoko’ and thankfully so she did help out to keep him in line. Sometimes he’d come whining, dragged along by the unphased woman, other days she’d manage to steal his phone and hand it to you as ransom. She was great truly.

Eventually, he’d start showing up on his own. Dragging Shoko to your sessions so she could listen to him recite the presentation. You’d both share your laptop even if he brought his own, he would get you snacks and even show you the research and points he found.

Shoko even jokes you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. You want to beat yourself for feeling pride at the thought.

You’re brought out of your thoughts to Satoru calling out your name, “Finally, been repeating your name for a while now– you ready?” He asked with a smile, the sight bringing you another wave of nervousness for some reason.

“Yeaahhh…” you trailed off before shaking your head and making a disappointed hum. He wouldn’t admit it, but he found it rather cute.. The more he talked to you, the more expressive you had become.

Just how far would he go to see it all?

“Hey, we’re prepared. You prepared us very well.” He was trying to ease you, flashing you another smile and a playful wink, “Now let me win it for ya.”

This was it. The outcome was now in his hands.

“I know you will.” You said softly, and somewhere there, you could see the peaks of his ears crimson up, but he’d clear his throat and turn away.

“ ‘kay then, let’s not lose points for showing up late.”

————————

You’re sitting beside Satoru, his body draped across the lounge chair at the library. You’ve been refreshing Canvas for the past 10 minutes, waiting for your final grade to appear.

“I’m sure they’ll post it soon, chill,” he commented mindlessly, his arm lazily nudging you. You shake your head, gnawing at your nail as you wait for the blank line to be replaced with a number.

He kept his eye on you before sitting up and scooching closer to where you sat. He rests his cheek against his hand, watching you silently. Finally, he catches your attention, hesitantly glancing in his direction.

“You okay?”

“I’m.. fine.”

“Just fine?”

You couldn’t help but feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to hide the appreciation for his concern,

“Perfectly fine.” You finally spoke, taking a deep breath and nodding, as if affirming your last statement. He lost your gaze to the screen again, staring expectantly and fidgeting with your nails by flicking them against each other.

He reached for your hand, his touch warm as he stopped you from continuing the nervous action. That alone made you slowly turn to him. You silently stare, unsure whether this squeezing in your chest is a good sign.

He replicated your smile, “You gave the right links, You didn’t stutter, that’s a good grade to me.” he reassured you. You only nodded again, your brain telling you to retract from his hold, but your body didn’t listen. He looked back at you with the same expression, beginning to gently run his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Actually, I was thinking we could–” Your laptop made a happy chime, an email regarding to the updated grades. “It’s in!” You pull your hand away with no thought, leaving Satoru with a slight sulk.

You scroll through the assignments, clicking the ‘grades section and waiting impatiently for it to load.

“Holy shit..” you muttered to yourself, a bright smile forming on your lips.

Sure it wasn’t 100, but a 95? You’ll take it.

Satoru shoves his face a little closer to the screen and a genuine laugh left his mouth at the score. “Didn’t I say you’d be okay?”

You roll your eyes, the smile you wore was more relaxed and relieved. “Yeah, yeah, you were right.”

He leans closer, his expression taunting with the little snicker he made, “That means I winnn” he made a dramatic pose, tips of his fingers to his forehead like he was a know-it-all to begin with.

True.. You didn’t think he’d get the same grade as you but surely opening the site– he got the same score.

“Huh… I guess you do..” You mumbled, biting your lip at the number while he continued flaunting the score.

—--------

It wasn’t a date. You reminded yourself of it constantly; it's a truce, an agreement, a celebration of your passing grade. Even then, You were fidgeting with the ends of your sweater, readjusting your scarf every ten seconds. Not because you were nervous or anything.

“Heyyy You got here before me.” He said with a smile, his breathing fanning out in white puffs. You nod, glancing over to the sidewalk, “Better than one of us being late.” He shrugs, beginning to walk in the direction of the stand.

“How far is it again?” You made a hum, trying to guess an estimate, “About a 15-minute walk or so..” He nods slowly before nudging your shoulder, “Brought your wallet, right? Because I left mineeee” With that tone, it was obvious he left it on purpose.

“You’re rich.” You deadpanned, watching him snicker before making another shrug, “And? Free food is priceless.” You roll your eyes, a little smile forming on your lips.

After a while, you did get used to him. He wasn’t as bad as you thought, for the most part.

“I think this just proves we should be partners for the rest of class?” He suggested coolly, earning a scoff from you and a side eye, “Yeah right.. we had to lock in near the end because of how busy you were.”

He made a dramatic sigh, “You’re keeping me away from success Sweetheart.” The pet name didn’t fall on deaf ears, a tingling spark waking your senses at the sound of it.

“Are you saying I’m a lucky charm?” You asked with a brow raised.

His grin said it all, glancing down at you. “Definitely my lucky charm, yeah.” This was just typical Satoru, his comments coming off as flirty. His charming smile activated, so normal of him,

But when did it start working on you?

You look away, needed after this gnawing sensation has started to make itself known, none of it being good.

There was a time when even looking in his direction made you scowl, where you heard him at a distance and felt exhausted before seeing him.

But here you are. Talking about anything and everything, he’s listening to you, and you’re openly letting him know.

There’s an exchange of words rather than an assumption.

You continue walking down the sidewalk, laughing at another stupid retelling of his daily adventures.

“The scooter did happen to fuck up over a tiny rock and I ended up crashing into a girl scout’s cookie table..” You couldn’t even discreetly laugh, your voice echoing in fits of laughter. He didn’t have to worry about the cold when you had him feeling warm to the corner of his ears.

“You’re obnoxious.” You watch him make a dramatic gasp, hand pressed to his chest.

“I made up for it! I offered to buy the stock they brought but they were convincing enough to make me work beside them.” You cross your arms and nod. “An appeal for their business… I see the vision..”

He scoffed, nudging your shoulder playfully and making you do the same with light banter. It was childish and you couldn’t help but play along.

“You know you didn’t put your scarf on properly right?” He quipped out the topic. You glance down, trying to readjust it. “What? I was just trying to stay warm there–” He makes a hum before stopping in his tracks, taking a spot in front of you. “You won't be able to keep the cold out like that…” he murmured, his voice much lower when he came close.

Your voice grew dim, unable to utter a word as his fingers unwrapped the knitted fabric. His eyes were focused on wrapping it a lot more snugly. “No cold right?” His voice was soothing, kicking out any chill there was before.

“No..” you said softly, looking to the side to keep your heart from dysfunctioning, his thumb pressed against your chin, lifting it to offer a better angle and leveling your gaze. “I’m not there— but here.” his voice was dangerous to you, caught in sight like a deer in headlights. It was the proximity, unable to stop yourself from looking down at his lips. He must’ve caught on because his own flickered down to yours.

His thumb pressed to your bottom lip as if he were questioning the realness of the situation. You didn’t stop him, closing your eyes as he drew closer.

“Satoruuuuu! ‘S that you over there?”

You opened your eyes, the moment cut short.

He cursed under his breath, immediately pulling back. He held a tight smile, his expression complex to decipher. “Ah heyyyy, long time no see..”

You glanced in the direction of the voice, catching a glimpse of a long-haired blonde woman. She was rather pretty, and the clothing she wore defined her figure. She eyed you for a long second, not hiding it at all.

You made an awkward shuffle, pointing to the stand, “I’ll um.. I’ll go get us some.” he opened his mouth to speak, wanting to stop you, but nothing came out. “Yeah.. thanks..” he said softly, redirecting his focus to the blonde, giving you small glances.

You walked over to the stand, making sure not to stare just yet.. eventually you couldn’t help but glance back. The woman was devouring him with a stare, batting her lashes, smiling sweetly, all of the above really.

You felt your stomach twist, forcing yourself to look away. A few minutes passed ordering your food, to be honest that was the last thing on your mind but you had to find a way to distract yourself.

He didn’t mean anything to you.. or that’s what you want to think. You don’t know where this courage had come from, maybe it was the stolen glances or the time spent together, but you felt like things between the two of you could grow different?

You held a soft smile, hearing your name be called close by. The worker handed you the two food trays, giving them a small ‘thank you’.

You made your way to the two, hoping to maybe go eat this at the park nearby, or maybe even at the bench near the campus water fountain, his presence was nice—

“So.. that’s that girl who passed by our cheer practice huh?” The girl spoke, her eyes focused on the white haired man. Her eyes would squint, judgmentally.

“You dating her?” She asked with a pout, and the idea made your stomach flutter in ways it shouldn’t.

“Nahh just a partner for class.”

You stopped in your tracks, your feet growing heavy out of nowhere. Your heart was accelerating in the worst way, trying not to jump to conclusions.

“Then why are you here?” She asked, looking up at him with faux innocence. You could feel mockery in her voice as if she were ready to start criticizing you without even speaking to you.

“Didn’t want to disappoint. There’s just not a lot of me to go around ya know?”

Your heart expands into your throat, body cold when you hear the words leave his mouth. But of course, you forgot.. you weren’t technically friends.

This was a transaction of sorts, he'll cooperate to give you a good grade, in return he gets the grade too. It was such a simple process that you must’ve forgotten along the way.

You aren’t friends.

You guys weren’t in similar groups, your contact list could never double to his, Satoru wouldn’t glance at you if it wasn’t for the required project. It was conventional.

And unfortunately, not realistic. Satoru would never see you for more than a classmate who helped him out.

The amount of fabric didn’t save you from the cold breeze that filled you. There was no wind blowing but you felt like a simple graze would make you crumble into the air.

You backed up, trying to not make a sound on your way out. Even if they did hear your feet hit the cement, he wouldn’t glance because well.. he got what he needed, the reason to hangout was over. You can go back to your dorm, begin on personal projects and be satisfied with guaranteeing your full credit.

You’re upset that you can’t feel relief.

That’s how you ended up at this frat party. You’ve been ignoring Satoru for the past few weeks, at all costs. You’d see him appear, and you’d immediately walk the other way. There were times where he’d wave for your attention, to where you just kept your eyes away from him.

Even when you did this, you had to remind yourself you didn’t like him to begin with. He was annoying, spoiled, and self absorbed.

But you hated to remind yourself of things you didn’t truly believe. Somewhere along the way you used those reminders to excuse the ache of the many things he wasn’t.

So there you are. Red solo cup in hand and the wall your only support. Your eyes flicker over to the DJ, the table he used was decorated with littered cups and bold people dancing on top.

You wish you were that drunk, a part of you knew if you were, it wouldn’t be for fun. That’d be sad and you can tough it out! You don’t need any liquor to move on-

“Y/n?”

That voice brought a mirage of a person. They mixed drinks but not enough to give auditory hallucinations right?

You look up to confirm the owner, your chest feeling tight all of a sudden.

Satoru is staring at you, surprised. He tried to wave in your face, only making you glance the other way. “Hey it’s been a while!” He yelled excitedly over the music. You still didn’t answer, your eyes focused on your cup.

You knew he was uncomfortable by the way he shifted, only moving a bit to let people push past him. He sighs, “wallflower huh? I’ll try it out.” He said coolly.

He proceeded to follow your posture and pressed to the wall. You could almost get Deja vu from how things were going. It was silent between the two of you, he would occasionally steal you glances, and you?

Well you acted dumb.

You swerve the drink in a circular spectacle, watching it glimmer with the neon purple of the black light. This was stupid. You, feel stupid.

“So.. you come here often?” He smirked, flashing you the signature charm. You groaned and rolled your eyes, already beginning to walk away.

“No wait— shit—“ he reached for your arm, softly grasping it before you were fully out of his view. It was gentle enough to shove him off but.. the touch was enough to stop you and wait.

“How are you?” Your brows furrowed at the question. All these lights rotating from bright colors to dark ones, you saw him under every shade and the question still didn’t seem to have an answer.

You press your tongue to your cheek, coming closer just because you don’t want to hear any more people give you drunken apologies for pushing you around. You don’t bother looking at him, glancing back down at your cup.

“I’m fine–“

“Just fine?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

He nodded slowly, if it weren’t for the ambiance, you could swear there was a bit of a frown at the response. He fumbled with the edge of his cup, for once keeping silent. “Is this what you stopped me for?” You ask, a little upset.

He looks up, opening his mouth to speak with a confident smile before struggling with the sentence. “Look. I’m sorry about that whole thing last time, I didn’t think she’d talk to me for so long.” You scoff, ripping your hand from his grasp with a little mutter of something along the lines of ‘Go fuck yourself’. He didn’t like how he left things open-ended with you, but even worse—

He hated how there was no banter like before.

“Wait! Y/n come on – ” He reached for your wrist again, causing you to press it to your chest. You shake your head and slip past people, wanting out of this place.

Partying was fun, the lights, the alcohol, and the music gave you this pedestal that you’ll probably never find in the day-to-day. You’ll even do risky dances to regret and laugh about later.

But when you’re suffocated, the party is a loud trap. It cages you with semi-aware adults, the music is muffling your ears – and your senses are numb. No one moves but you’re pressed against their bodies, caging you. The heat makes the air as useless as water in your lungs. Something once good becomes the worst.

Now add the guy you almost kissed with that.

Your body is boiling for you to get the fuck out.

You push against others, way past the excuse me’s as you feel your throat form a lump and your arms becoming tougher as they block you from sweaty bodies. The lump was growing and it only tugged at the nerves that start the faucet.

You can hear Satoru right behind you, actually struggling to get by when everyone wants to speak with him. A popularity problem you’d guess, unrecognizability saving you for once.

A long time ago you might’ve asked to be in that place. Tonight you’re grateful it helps you slip away.

You could feel the fresh breeze strike your cheek, making your head whip in its direction. Finally, after pushing a random guy to the side without much protest–

You could breathe.

You inhale deeply, your lung capacity going to its limit just to bring some color back to your face. The night was colder than when you had got there, but your body was too hot to feel like a disturbance.

Then there was heaving right behind you, repeating the same actions you did. “Shit– y/n give me— a minute,”

“No, Satoru — what else do you want from me!?” You exasperated, but he shook his head, you could see his brow twitch upward. He was gasping for air, trying to catch his breath.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“I don’t accept it.”

“It was unfair to you—“

You scoff, your eyes narrow and your throat begins to tighten. The imagery flashes through your head. His slender fingers wrapped around a few strands, his voice trailing off when he’d look down at you, and that stupid fucking look that was the bridge of this whole shit.

“You lead me on like– like I’m another one of your distractions!” You didn’t mean for your voice to tremble, but it wavered enough to be noticeable.

He tried to follow after you again causing you to harshly shake it off not wanting to be near him.

“Is that how you saw it?? I was just-“ he looks just as frustrated as you, trying to understand you while you’re glaring at him with the same eyes he falls into.

“Your grade mattered that much?— you used me?-“ he immediately began shaking his head at your accusation. “I didn’t even say that!-“

“No? You implied it. I heard it all!” You confirmed his worries, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I didn’t mean... I didn’t know what I was saying alright?” His explanation wasn’t enough for you; it was too vague to fix the damage.

You scoff, muttering a simple ‘of course’ and glaring at the grass. The sound of the music was more audible than your voices, obviously trying to find a way to go about this.

“Y/n. It isn’t just about the grade— I didn’t care for it!” You shake your head once more, laughing dryly.

“That’s what you wanted me to see, I knew you were a fucking liar, self absorbed asshole!—“

“Oh! Oh yeah?? And you have a stick up your ass all the time! You don’t give a fuck about anything else!“ he retorted back, “Always focused! The perfect student! hardworking! I’m not good enough for you!”

You looked up at him, confusion overtaking your frustration. “You.. what?”

“I can’t have a day where you don’t appear, it annoys me – aside from dealing with your nagging in class, I could hear your damn voice in my sleep, you just had to be my partner?”

You scoff, “You suck at this.”

“Shut up. I’m trying here-” he pushed back his hair, frustrated with you. That seems to ease when your chuckle follows.

“I thought you held brawns and beauty,” you mumbled sarcastically,

“No, that’d be you.”

The silence had never befell you both this quick. Breathing was terrifying, looking at him was terrifying, but more so was the acceleration of your heart. You were afraid that your body was pumping blood too fast, that the rhythmic drumming in your ears was audible.

Satoru watches your silence, before deciding that his tongue was too tied for once. His hand hesitated, before reaching up to cup your cheek.

Your lashes batted against your soft skin, staring up at him with a silent question. It didn’t take long for him to lower his face to yours. There was no hurry, no comedic comment, just his pride stepping down for once.

His lips pressed against yours in a gentle kiss, the tension alleviating from weeks of pent-up emotions. He was infuriating with his comments, and stubbornness you sometimes couldn’t stand,

regardless, your arms loop around his neck, pulling him for another once he begins to pull away.

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #jjk #satoru gojo #Churi's Melodies ⋆｡♫

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