#gojo angst

[textmel8r]

[ SMAU ] 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 ! the happy, feel-good part two to GOODBYE , in which reader and the jujutsu kaisen men patch up their relationship .

୨୧˚ incl; satoru gojo , suguru geto , kento nanami , toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; hurt + comfort , profanity , mentions of abuse in toji’s

୨୧˚ an; i see your comments ladies and they make me smile😊 kidding but holy fuck the requests for a part two were endless so you know ya girl had to cough it up!! no choso BECAUSE BECAUSE BECAUSE in part one, there is genuinely no fixing that relationship 😭😭😭 sorry DONT HATE ME PLS

likes and reblogs appreciated !

[celestie0]

childhood friends to lovers with gojo.

warnings/tags. fluff & angst, sad ending

you two were five when he kisses ur cheek on the playground underneath the slide n you both thought that counted as a first kiss. u two were attached by the hip all throughout elementary school, i mean srs, your parents would even have joint parent teacher conferences bc there was just nothing the two of you wouldn't do together.

and then middle school came around, you joined the marching band n he joined the football team. he starts acting different around you, and it hurts. bc you two were best friends. you were always supposed to be best friends. he starts hanging out w the popular kids, and you find yourself walking home alone. summer before high school, he wants to hang out again, but you tell him you deserve better than that. and you two drift apart.

it's hard starting high school without him, watching him from afar during lunch in the cafeteria. he's with his table of phonies, acting like someone he's not, and you know because you've always known him. better than anyone else. you really wanna join the cheer team, since you've done gymnastics for a long time, but you've always been too afraid to tryout for the team. this time, you do, and you get in. now all of a sudden he wants to talk to you again, now that you're popular in high school and have earned a place on the field during his games. fuck that, you say to him, you threw away what we had just because i wasn't good enough for you to have by your side. you start dating his teammate, you two are nominated for prom queen & king, and he has to watch as you kiss someone else on stage when you win. someone that should've been him. he starts dating the cheer captain, just to show it off when he comes running to her after a winning game, kissing her right in front of you but he's not looking at her, he's looking at you. to make sure you're watching. and you do the same thing to him. and the whole time you two are wondering what are we doing to one another?

summer after high school, he shows up to your doorstep one day on his skateboard. with a box full of all the letters you used to send him as a kid. you still have yours too, somewhere tucked underneath your bed. you spend the whole afternoon laughing with him as you read through them all, laying on the carpet of your living room, and you both feel like kids again. he hovers over you when he kisses you, but you're still mad at him, and to show him how mad you are, you kiss him back. it's no use, you two are going to different colleges, you'll hardly see him, but he swears he's call. he swears he'll fly to see you. he swears he'll never makes the same mistakes again, because he wants you. and only you. you kiss his cheek, and say okay.

and he does. he does everything he promises you. but the distance is too hard, and he was a little too late. you break up with him over a twenty-one character text sent while you're drunk at a house party your second semester at university, and he just doesn't understand. he'll never understand. and he never sees you again.

until you're both thirty-two, standing in line at the grocery store. he taps your shoulder, you turn around, you wonder if it's a stranger who wants a favor, and you realize he's so much more than that. he's the little boy that kissed your cheek underneath the slide when you were five. your first kiss. except it wasn't, was it? his face is long, and his cheeks have lost plush, but he looks so handsome it makes your heart skip a beat. you two are pleasant, exchanging it's been so long! and you look great! but when his eyes catch the twinkle of the wedding ring on your finger, his smile drops ever so slightly, and when he scratches his cheek to hide the sadness, you notice a band on his finger too. and he pays for your groceries, just to be kind. and you thank him for it, just to be kind. and you go your separate ways, never to speak again. but there's a box that still sits somewhere in your closet. and a similar one still sits in his too.

[risuola]

ENTRY #5 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU

My eyes are glossed, And my heartbeat skips, I crave, I am lost In the nectar of your lips.

cw: arranged marriage!au, fluff — 2,0k words

a/n: you welcomed the series so warmly and lovely, that I made this part longer. it's sickly sweet, it's fluffy — enjoy!

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“What the hell am I doing–“

You groaned. Again and again. Sighing and throwing your hands into the air, helpless and hopeless. Resignation crawling up your skin, threatening to fight and win with your stubbornness and determination. You felt the characteristics you proud yourself with falter and peel away along with your pride and dignity and you found it ironic — pathetic — that years of harsh trainings, of bloody torture you endured, years of fights and pain did nothing to break you and now you’re losing your mind over a goddamn mochi.

Mochi.

A dessert made of rice dough, sweet and objectively adorable with its round shape and sugary filling. If someone asked you how much time you spent in the kitchen already, heating up the glutinous rice flour, mixing and kneading the dough, you wouldn’t know. Hours, most likely. Fighting a battle that you weren’t ready for, mixing ingredients, adding water, whisking, and then kneading again, burning your fingers and pads of your palms more times than you’d ever admit. And you hated it. Hated the corn starch that dusted all around the place, the sticky mass of heated rice flour that you tried to get just right and above all, you hated how much time it took you before it finally started to look like something you can work with.

“There we go,” you mumbled, kneading and stretching the dough between your hands and the marble countertop. There was a reason you were a fighter, not a cook and the current state of your kitchen made enough of a proof. Mochi now, cleaning later.

The fillings were delicious, you had to pat yourself on the back. You were very lucky today to grab the sweetest strawberries you ever ate. They tasted like summer, like hot, tropical heaven and you fought with yourself before you ate them all. The cream you whipped turned out just perfectly thick and fluffy. Then the green edamame paste — your husband’s favorite — came out just as good. Decadent almost, smooth and sweet, with perfect, bright green color and texture of a cloud. Half of your cream you mixed up with melted chocolate and while happy with the insides, you were still a little concerned about the dough.

You’re not gonna be defeated by a rice dough.

You managed to roll out the mass very thinly, perfectly, and began forming mochi, which turned out to be much easier to do than you anticipated.

Take the dough.

Scoop on the filling.

Close the dough.

Roll.

Repeat.

You filled up a tray, all of the balls prettily displayed on top of a parchment paper and you took it upon yourself to have a taste of each one. Delicious. Absolutely mind-blowing.

To the fridge they go.

Now clean.

* * *

Satoru got home around 7 pm — typical, if nothing comes up or hold him at work. His job as a teacher, you learned it quickly, was repetitive, predictable. He’s out the door just shy of 10 am and back near the evening, before the soft pinks and oranges of the summer turn into nightly blues and greys and you grew to appreciate the routine that settled into your lives. Spending most of the days separately made the first weeks of marriage much more bearable. It gave you and him enough time to get used to the new situation and cool off after many fights you had. But that was about to change and you were meaning to tell him today, sweetening the deal with mochi.

Oh right, mochi!

It got you a little too excited for Satoru to ignore, you looked a little brighter than usually, nervous even and he found it concerningly amusing. You’re rarely happy to see him back, he’s more used to see you ignore him than to greet him, and even if so – you’d usually pass him with a hi or an attempt of a small talk that he hated. Gojo couldn’t tell what was it that made you so much more vibrant that evening, you looked thrilled, your eyes glimmered in the dim lights of the house. You almost looked… happy? To see him? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Did something happen today? You look oddly excited,” he spoke, following his usual routine of taking off his uniform jacket and putting it neatly on a hanger in the hallway, folding his blindfold in half to have it ready in the morning and washing his hands and face. The soft, dry towel soaked up the excess wetness from his skin as he patted it away, pointing his ocean-blue eyes toward you expectantly.

“Well, yes, kind of,” you replied and dropped onto the soft cushions of the sofa in the living room. You twisted your body slightly and looked at him, and he got the hint because few seconds later, he sat down next to you. “Two things. First, I got an offer to work as a teacher in your school. Yaga contacted me–“

“You are the new teacher for the second years?” Satoru cut you and you couldn’t read him. A slight surprise was all you could decipher from the expression of his features.

“Yes. Well, not yet,” you sighed, “before I agree I wanted to ask you what you think.”

“And you’ll do as I say? Since when you’re doing as you’re told?” He teased and for a moment you considered eating all the mochi yourself. Maybe tying him to the chair and devouring it right in front of his eyes? You opened your mouth to say something rather unpleasant before he spoke again. “If you’re asking me for permission, we both know you don’t need it. I’m sure kids will benefit from having you to lead them.”

“Are you willing to be civil with me if we spend more time along each other during the day? Last thing I need is to argue with you more than we already do.”

“We don’t argue that much lately,” he protested and you huffed out a chuckle, nodding in agreement. You didn’t fight at all, if you think about it. It seemed as if slowly you were getting used to… everything.

“So, you’re fine with the idea?”

“I’m fine with the idea, yes,” he said, running a hand through his white, slightly damp hair and brushing it back. You took in his features, allowing yourself to just stare at the man you married, because even if wedded, you see him no more than his students are. He still sleeps on the couch; he still spends most of his time outside. “You’re staring.”

“Why would I–“

“I am,” you confirmed, shamelessly and it made him chuckle. “Talking about staring, close your eyes.”

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” you ordered, getting up from the comfortable seat you were sunken into. “Please?”

“I’m honestly concerned,” he said but reluctantly lowered his eyelids. As if it made him any less aware of his surroundings. “What are you planning?”

“Don’t peek.”

Quickly, you padded into the kitchen and uncovered the mochi you kept out of the fridge for about ten minutes now. You took the tray and a glass of water and got back to where Satoru was situated. With his eyes closed, comfortable against the cushions. He felt your weight sinking onto the pillows next to him and a hint of something sweet in the air.

“Open up,” your voice made him hum, still uncertain but curious nonetheless. ‘Open up’ was such a foreign command for him to follow and the small amount of trust that was secure between you and him had to suffice for him to comply. “There we go,” you almost whispered and Satoru slightly flinched at the first contact of his mouth with, what felt like, a blob of cold unknown substance. For a reason he couldn’t really rationalize, he grabbed onto your waist to balance himself, even if there was nothing to throw him off.

Slowly, with caution, Gojo closed his mouth, allowing his teeth to meet the dough, go through it. Mochi. He recognized the sweet taste of his very favorite treat immediately but something about what was just melting against his tongue felt different to what he’s used to. The rice envelope was softer but chewy, sweetened just perfectly and the paste inside — green bean — had a texture of silk and butter, a luscious heaven itself. He felt it spreading along his taste buds, warming against the insides of his cheeks. A perfect mixture of fluffy inside and glutinous outside. So sweet, so delicious.

“Oh my god,” he whimpered. A sound so foreign, that it almost surprised you if not for the very vibrant wash of pleasure that relaxed his features. Just as the mochi melted in his mouth, he melted against the couch.

“Was it good?” You asked, while the answer was relatively clear from what you had a chance to witness. “I made them for you and they are not perfect yet but–“

“You made this mochi for me?”

Satoru’s bright blue eyes snapped open and his grip on your waist tightened. A shock pushed to the front of his expression, he blinked — once, twice — before you nodded slowly. Then he followed the direction of your gaze; his own landing on the tray full neat rows of plump rice balls, so perfectly imperfect against the dark wood below them. He could tell some had a green undertone, the edamame filling, and some were looking white and plain. Next row seemed to have chocolate inside and he could catch the hint of it in the air.

“You made all of this? With your hands?”

“From scratch, yeah,” you nodded, reaching for another one. “Chocolate.”

Being fed by you — his wife — felt odd, unfamiliar, and yet the subtle brush of your fingers against his lips whenever you gently pushed the doughy ball into his open mouth felt just right. Satoru thought he could get used to it, and the mochi.

“So you’re not only a good cook,” you’re not, but you hummed. “But also you can make mochi? If we weren’t already married, I would have asked you to marry me now.”

“That easy, huh?”

“That easy.”

You shook your head, visibly suppressing a giggle and Gojo hoped you wouldn’t hold it. It’s only now that he’s learning how pretty is your smile, how your eyes crinkle every time you allow your face to relax and take on a pattern of joy. He likes the shape your lips form, how they stretch whenever you’re happy and how your brows lift up just slightly above your half-closed lids. He wished you’d let yourself burst out laughing, but instead you shook your head yet again and let out a sigh of content. Good enough.

You reached onto the tray again. This time it was the white blob of doughy goodness hanging heavy between your dainty fingers. “This one is my favorite.”

There was no need to tell him twice. Satoru opened his mouth, eager for the sweetness you called your favorite although from your words he had a suspicion what was inside. Strawberries. You love strawberries. He learned that during the wedding celebration, when you eyed the fruit on his piece of the cake with the most adorable envy he’s ever seen – and then, those very same eyes glittered with pleasure when he exchanged his plate with yours. He remembers how you left the red, plump strawberry for the last bite, how you sighed with content as you bit into the juicy flesh of the fruit, how you nearly purred despite the stressful predicament you were placed into.

“Divine,” Gojo purred himself, as the flavors mixed in his mouth. The crisp, fresh strawberry, along the velvety cream and chewy dough made for an experience he could only compare to orgasm.

He wanted more.

Craved more and he blames it on you that the moment you sunk your teeth into the sweet treat, he leaned closer. His mind went blank when he wrapped his own mouth around the half mochi that sticked out, his lips brushed against yours. A drop of red juice run down his chin, wet and sticky against his skin. He didn’t care. Greedy for more, for you, he leaned in even more, tempted by the sweet taste of your sugar-powdered lips flush to his own.

You gasped. Purred. In surprise, in pleasure, or both.

The feeling unfamiliar, addicting, syrupy.

You should stop it.

You wanted more.

He should stop it.

He wanted more.

It was slow, sloppy and nothing but strawberry and cream.

taglist: @kinny-away , @anan-baban , @lotomber , @netflix-imagines , @kawliflo , @nishloves , @ghostfacefricker6969 , @thejujvtsupost , @yozora7154 , @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost , @ae-mius , @ropickle , @chokesonspit

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 24] The Truth

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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“What are you going to do with him again?” Satoru asks as you get ready to meet up with Suguru. He talks as if he has any right to know. You’re finishing up your makeup in your room while he stands in the doorway.

“Does it concern you?” You look back at him. And he sighs before shaking his head. He guesses it doesn’t. He can’t argue with you about it, yet he stands there, leaning on the doorframe. You finish putting on your lipstick before looking back at him and raising your eyebrows, “Aren’t you going to Ren? He’s waiting for you to talk about his birthday plans.”

“Right…” Satoru answers, turning around and going to Ren. He finally leaves you alone with your thoughts, finally not having to listen to his stupid comments. As much as you don’t enjoy his presence at the moment, you still have to tolerate him because of your son.

Slowly you are seeing his point of view, but that doesn’t mean you forgive him. Satoru was young, easy to manipulate– Well, you aren’t exactly focused on his age but more about the fact that Satoru was recently grieving the loss of his father and in a way felt threatened that he would lose everything simply for not following orders. What hurts you the most right now is that he didn’t even try to explain the situation to you, he assumed you were better off going your own separate ways.

“Mommy!” Ren comes running into your room, disrupting the peace that you were just granted. You look at the puppy eyes that adorn his face, and you already know he wants something. You allow him to speak first, not wanting to accuse him of something that he might not even do. But you’re proven right, “Can I get a puppy for my birthday?”

“Remind me how old you’re turning, Ren.” You tell him, and Ren holds up five fingers, a grin on his face as he shows off his big age. You fight back a smile, trying your best to remain as serious as you can possibly be. You won’t be easily convinced by him. “Five. Such a big age, right? But not enough to take care of a puppy, plus you’re starting school soon.”

“School?” Ren asks as if it’s the first time he hears of it. You’ve been preparing for him, telling him about it daily.

“You know, the place where you’ll be going to learn and make friends for the next thirteen or so years of your life.” You answer, and his mouth turns into a circle when he remembers. “Who’s going to take care of the puppy then? I still have to work.”

“Granny.” Ren answers, and you chuckle as you shake your head. Your mother isn’t exactly a big pet person, if you were to give her the responsibility of taking care of a puppy, she might just kill you. He puts his hands together and begs, “Please, mommy, please! I want a puppy!”

“Ren, we both know that–” You begin, but you realize you’re just wasting your breath. You look at the time, realizing that if you don’t finish up soon, you’ll be late. “Talk to your father about it, I have to finish getting ready.”

“Daddy!” Ren yells as he walks out of your bedroom. Maybe you made a mistake since Satoru loves to spoil Ren, and Satoru doesn’t like to think of additional responsibilities since he’s not the one that’s at Ren’s side at all times.

You’ll deal with it when Satoru attempts to get Ren a puppy, for now you’re going to focus on your own problems. Your own problem being your meeting with Suguru.

You wait for Suguru at the café near your apartment. You have a beverage in your hand, taking an occasional sip, making sure you don’t finish it before Suguru finally decides to show up. Your eyes are glued to the door, waiting for him to finally make his grand entrance. 

You feel the nerves creeping through all of a sudden, and you have no idea why. Maybe it’s because you lied to him about Satoru, or maybe it’s because you’ve been avoiding his calls. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, looking at the time. If he doesn’t get here within five minutes, you’ll leave. He’s running late, and you have no intention of waiting for him all day.

In reality, you’re just looking for an excuse to leave. You want to avoid this confrontation as much as you can, but you know you have to face him eventually. Suguru has been one of Satoru’s closest friends, and you were close to dating, the least you can do is give him one last conversation. You can’t avoid him forever.

Your eyes shift back and forth between the time and the door, mentally praying that he doesn’t show up. However, your prayers go unanswered when he walks through the door, his eyes immediately landing on you. He gives you a soft smile as he approaches your table.

“Hi, Suguru.” You try to return his smile, but it looks awkward. Suguru points at the counter, telling you that he’s going to get his beverage before sitting down with you, to which you nod in response. You take another deep breath, trying to calm yourself. He looks fine, and you hate to ruin his day– Perhaps he won’t care, but you doubt it. You told him a very serious lie about his best friend, you doubt he’ll be too happy with you after finding out.

“It’s so nice to see you after… So long.” Suguru sits across from you. You shift in your seat, adjusting your posture before focusing on him. You nod with an awkward smile on your face. At that moment you know, this is going to be a long hour.

“It is.” You agree before a long awkward pause ensues. You clear your throat, about to ask him how he’s been holding up, but Suguru has other plans when he speaks up before you,

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He goes straight to the point. There’s a reason why you two are there, and it isn’t for small talk. Maybe you can get to more fun matters later or another day, but not right now. 

“I’ve just been busy with Satoru and figuring out this whole parent thing, that…” You begin with an excuse but you can’t finish the sentence. You bite down your lip before you take a deep breath. You have to say it, if you keep dragging it you’ll feel worse. “I partially lied to you. Satoru never suggested an abortion at the thought of me being pregnant, I didn’t tell him because he didn’t give me the chance to, and then I couldn’t tell him because… His mother didn’t want him to know.”

And he chuckles. Suguru lets out a laugh, which makes you furrow your brows. You expected many different reactions, but not a laugh. You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiously waiting for him to say something else.

“Is that why you haven’t been answering my calls?” Suguru asks, and you hum in response even though it’s not all. He lets out another laugh, and you want to ask why he laughs but you decide against it. You wait for him to finally say something else, although time feels as if it slows down. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You sound utterly confused. What the hell is he talking about? How would Suguru know?

“I knew. I asked Satoru what he would’ve done if you had gotten pregnant and he said he would’ve stayed by your side.” He answers, and you let out a sigh of relief knowing that the situation won’t be the big mess that you were expecting. You do still feel guilty about it. “I mean sure… Satoru could’ve lied to me, but I don’t think he would have.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about it?” You’re curious as to why he decided to remain silent about this of all things. It’s a serious matter, which you would’ve expected him to furiously call you to berate you about. But you guess the man that sits across from you isn’t that type of person.

“You lied to me to protect your ass, and I can’t really blame you for it.” He shrugs, and he could’ve left it at that and it would’ve ended up perfectly fine. The conversation could’ve ended there and you would switch the topic and talk about more lighthearted stuff. But Suguru makes sure to add, “Plus Satoru also lied to you so you’re even, I guess.”

“Do you know?” You question, wondering why he brings up the fact that Satoru lied to you as well. You watch his cheeks turn pink when he realizes his words.

“Know what?” He stutters, which says all you need to know. He knows. For how long has he known? He realizes immediately that he’s messed up. He gave himself away.

“For how long have you known?” You immediately ask, and Suguru tries to play dumb, he claims he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, making a fool of himself. You’re clearly mad, but you try to not let it show through your tone. You try to take deep breaths.

“You can say we’re kind of even…” Suguru scratches the back of his head, but that’s not enough. You’re not even because the situation with Ren had nothing to do with him, at least in your eyes. Yes, you lied to him, but it was your business, something that had nothing to do with him.

“Does Shoko know too?” You scoff, and it’s merely a joke, but Suguru bites down his lip before commenting,

“I mean, considering the fact that she’s sleeping with his wife, probably.” Which makes your eyes widen. It’s shocking, but it makes a lot of sense. You’re still speechless. “Satoru told me… A while ago.”

“I guess we’re even then.” You let out a chuckle, but it’s not humorous. You’re clearly… Annoyed. “But I think… I had different plans for us, and so did you. But we should remain as friends.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, confused why you say that. He knows you’re mad, but what you’re making is a rash decision. “You don’t mean what you’re saying, you’re just upset because–”

“No, I know what I’m saying. Suguru, I lied to you so I guess I shouldn’t be too mad but I am. And I lied to you about Satoru, and… We shouldn’t be together, I feel like we started this off wrong.” You respond, and it almost hurts to say. 

“But we can start over again without lies and–” He begins, and you cut him off.

“Let’s try to give it some time before even thinking about that. I’m not really in the right headspace for a relationship.” You answer truthfully, and he furrows his brows. He doesn’t know why, but that ticks him off.

“I bet you’ll end up choosing Satoru again.” He sounds bitter, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he says that, he assumes you’re so in love with Satoru that you can’t have a relationship with him. Suguru thinks too mighty of himself. “Explains why you so adamantly ignored my calls, and why you were on vacation with him–”

“I have a son with him, Suguru. Of course I’m going to do shit with him.” You interrupt him, standing up from your seat. He has his arms crossed, looking almost like a pouty child because he isn’t getting his way. He almost reminds you of Satoru. “I told you we should give it time before we even begin to think about it. Don’t make your case worse.”

He keeps silent while you walk away, deciding that you’re right. He isn’t going to make his case worse. 

“How did it go?” Satoru seems as if he has been waiting by the door for you the entire time. 

“He knew?” You immediately ask, and he nods in response which makes you roll your eyes. “Everyone knows shit except me.”

“I can say the same about Ren.” Satoru argues, which is a great point, but you won’t admit it. You hand him your purse, as if he were your own little butler, and he proceeds to take it to your room.

“Where’s Ren?” You half-yell, and the man shushes you, which earns a weird look from you. There’s no way he actually got Ren to fall asleep… But for what other reason would Satoru shush you?

“He’s asleep.” Satoru informs you when he walks back, and you want to question what kind of sorcery the man is doing to make a boy that hates taking naps, fall asleep. You do appreciate it though, so you won’t complain.

You two awkwardly stand around, not sure what to speak about next since Ren is asleep. There’s something that comes to mind, but you’re not sure how appropriate the question is. Ren is asleep, so there shouldn’t be an issue, however, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries.

You still clear your throat though, “Did you know that Shoko was–”

“I know.” Satoru chuckles. “Right when we got back, Shoko dug her claws into her– Or Sayo did.”

“Were you upset when you found out? I mean, when we first saw each other again you called her love.” You bring up, walking over to the couch to take a seat, and he follows behind. Satoru takes a moment to think, and properly formulate his answer. He sighs before speaking up,

“I guess, for a moment I thought I loved her. I’m very fond of her, and I confused my adoration for her as love. She knew what I was going through, and she was always sweet to me, we could make each other laugh. Overall, we got along.” He explains, and you listen attentively. You’ll do anything to gain a little bit of perspective into his mind. “We just had each other, and that was that. But then you came into my life, and I remembered what love felt like.”

You feel your face get warm, and you look away from him. Maybe Suguru is right– You can’t let him be right. Satoru still committed a lot of bad actions. 

You stay silent and let a minute pass before speaking up again, changing the topic, “It’s not just Ren’s birthday coming up, but also yours. What would you like?”

“I already have everything I could ever want.” Satoru answers, which makes your task slightly more difficult. You’re still going to get him something for his birthday, even if it’s just a pair of socks. “How about Ren? I heard he wants a puppy.”

“He’s not getting one. Nope.” You tell him, and he laughs before nodding in response. You’re not sure he’s gotten the message yet, but you’ll make sure to remind him.

[piftamere]

left unsaid - gojo satoru

synopsis : you tell him you love him for the first time and he freezes completely.

wc : 1k

tags : hurt/mild comfort, bittersweet ending, some miscommunication?

a/n: i was in a weird mood and wrote this in class, so enjoy this little angsty fic :P idk if this has been done before but 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️, gojo is so First love/Late spring coded to me

Satoru was sitting on the pavement in front of your house.

How long had he been there, waiting for you to come back out ?

Going over everything you said, everything he didn’t, everything he wished he did.

Replaying the "what ifs" over and over, his head in his hands, fingers entangled in the white strands of his hair.

You told him you loved him for the first time and he froze completely.

You must hate him now, he’s sure of it, how could you not when you bared yourself in front of him and he froze. He hates himself too. Maybe it’s for the best, you walking away now, before he can hurt you any more, before you hurt him.

It’s raining hard, he notices, he’s not sure when it started though, it must have been a while ago, because he’s soaked to the bones. But it’s far down the list of his priorities at the moment.

Satoru doesn’t hear the door opening, or the footsteps getting closer, doesn’t hear you call out his name. Everything drowned by the sound of the rain, by his own thoughts. He flinches when you place your hand on his shoulder.

“Satoru? What are you still doing here? You’re drenched…”

He’s staring at the ground, barely acknowledging your presence.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” You reach for his hand to pull him inside, but he won’t budge. His skin is ice cold. He turns to look at you, eyes filled with tears, and your heart sinks into your chest. He opens his mouth to speak but the words refuse to come out. He looks down, defeated, as he gets up to follow you inside.

He makes a few steps before stopping, his hold on your hand tightening.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I’m sorry I couldn’t say I l-” he chokes up, still unable say it.

You don’t turn around, not sure if you can stop yourself from crying if you look at him right now.

“I know, I’m sorry too.”

The sky is darkening, tiny droplets are starting to fall, you’re both laughing as you run hand in hand to your house. You spent the day together at an amusement park, stuffing your faces with sweets.

He stops a few feet from your door, circling his arms around your waist.

“Toru, what are you doing? We’re gonna be wet” you don’t try to get out of his grasp, instead walking closer to him as you chuckle, and he smiles fondly at you.

“It’s just a little water.”

“True...” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and tiptoeing to give him a peck on the lips.

He shakes his head no, grinning, “Not good enough, try again”

So you do, who are you to refuse your boyfriend a proper kiss?

As you pull away, you decide you’re ready to tell him what’s been on your mind for weeks. You take a deep breath.

“Toru?” he hums to let you know he’s listening, “I love you”

You wait for him to say something, anything, not necessarily to say it back, but at least to acknowledge it. Instead he freezes, like a deer caught in headlights.

Your arms drop by your side. “Toru?”

“I just...” he starts rambling, “I’m sorry, I don’t-”

You cut him off, you don’t mean too but you’re raising your voice now. “You don’t? Fine, forget I said anything Satoru.” You walk away, almost running, trying your best to hide the tears forming in your eyes, but the cracks in your voice betrayed you already. All he can do is watch you leave.

You’re both inside, in silence. You try not to think about what just happened, so you make him a cup of tea to warm him up, and give him a towel.

“I put sugar in it, just how you like it.” You're uncomfortable, not knowing how to act around him anymore.

The air is thick, you’re having trouble breathing so close to him.

“Listen I-”

“You don’t have to say anything Satoru, it’s ok-”

“Please let me speak”, he cuts you off as he looks up from his cup, his eyes are pleading, still red and puffy from crying. Caught off guard, you simply nod and sit down as far away from him as possible.

“Earlier when you told me… that, I wasn’t expecting it, it left me speechless. But I didn’t mean that I don’t care about you, because I do, you’re the most important person to me, I need you to know that.” His voice is hoarse, he looks so desperate, a tear rolling down his cheek. You want to wipe it, to comfort him more than anything, but you stop yourself.

“You can’t even say it out loud?” You can guess why it’s so hard for him, the last time he loved someone it ended terribly, still your heart aches, and you find yourself wishing he would just leave.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could... but the words get stuck.”

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to say it?” Your voice shakes.

“I don’t know. I think so?” He offers you a timid, hesitant smile.

He reaches out towards your hand, holding it like it’s made of porcelain, “I’m so scared of losing you.”

Satoru is your only weakness. You can’t stand seeing him so vulnerable. It’s impossible not to cave in.

So you do. You let him hold you, caging you in his arms, his face hidden in the crook of your neck.

He takes a deep breath in. “Did you just sniff me?” You chuckled.

You feel him smile against your skin, relieved to hear you stopped crying.

“Maybe.”

“Weirdo.” you whisper.

The topic is still hanging over your heads. You’ll most likely have this conversation again, soon, when you’re both strong enough to stomach it. But in this instant, you can feel each other’s heartbeats, your tears are drying and as the rain stops, everything is fine.

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER NINE

ROAD HOME

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~14k

⊲ previous

Standing in the alley between the huts, you had already nailed the last sheet to the wall, creating a small but hidden space. Inside, there were already a few water bottles, a bar of soap, and a makeshift stool. "There, all done," you chirped, admiring the result. You peeked out from behind the curtain. "Come in," you nodded, inviting Nora inside. Without raising her head, she strode past you in small, uncertain steps.

Feeling awkward, you averted your eyes and wanted to leave the makeshift shower, but you were stopped by a subtle touch of a hand. "Don't go," Nora mumbled softly.

"Uh?" you rambled, and your eyes rounded at the surprise of her request. The girl's head was still down, and her tangled hair covered her face.

"I...," Nora began, but immediately stopped. Her breathing became so ragged and loud as if she was beginning to choke. "I don't wanna be alone," her voice shook. "Don't go."

You gently grabbed Nora's chin and lifted her head, forcing her to look at you. "It's okay. Breathe," there wasn't panic or fear in her eyes, there was desperation in them. There was still no way Nora was going to calm down. "Come on. Inhale," you sucked in air with persistence and noise and waited for her to repeat after you. "Exhale," on your command, she exhaled so hard it flung strands of hair from your face. "Sit down," you moved the stool closer to her.

Nora sat down, and the stool creaked dangerously, but it didn't give up. The girl leaned her hands on her knees, and you could see her vertebrae protruding.

"Hands up," you tried to keep your voice as soft as possible, making the words sound more like a request than an order. She obediently raised her limbs, and you grabbed the edges of her shirt and pulled it off. You'd tried not to look at her injuries before, but there was little to look at now - some of the wounds had healed, others were almost invisible.

Nora took off her wide pants in a hurry for some reason - you didn't even squeak before they were on the ground. You gathered up her clothes and hung them on a rusty flimsy nail.

The girl froze. It seemed as if she had forgotten how to do ordinary household things because of everything that had happened. Sighing and trying not to look at her gaunt body, you moistened your hands with cool water and picked up the soap. As soon as you touched the girl, she jerked, making the stool rattle with renewed vigor. "Just... Cold," Nora mumbled guiltily to herself, dispelling any speculation you might have had in your head.

You did not answer, only silently continued to soap her skinny back, and Nora did not lag behind - you could see how she weakly washed the front of her body, now and then adding water.

You'd thrown her tangles over her shoulder so many times, and they'd come back as annoying as flies on a sweltering day. "Listen," you started as if in between. "Ya mind if I cut your hair a little?"

"Is it that bad?" she mumbled quietly.

It wasn't that bad. After a few rinses, a russet or brown color was even beginning to emerge behind the dirt, and judging by the length of her hair, she'd taken good care of it in her former life. However, there wasn't even a hairbrush in the place. "Nah," you shrugged mundanely, lathering and massaging the nape of her neck. "It's just more comfortable this way, don't ya think?"

Nora hasn't even given you an answer yet, and you've already tried on how much to cut. Shoulder blades? Shoulder length? Or maybe cut it all off? You doubted that you could do it like the heroines in the movies and video games - a couple of cuts and you'd have a professional model's haircut. "Lemme cut it somewhere at the level of your neck, 'kay?" you asked, not even noticing that she still hadn't agreed.

As soon as she nodded her head weakly, the dagger was in your hand. You squatted down, divided the hair into strands, and began to cut it off carefully, trying it on. The more you cut, the more Nora trembled, and she was no longer embarrassed to cry. All the tangles fell to the ground. Eventually, the dark sand will sweep them away, too.

The haircut was uneven, with hairs sticking out here and there, but you didn't dare touch them for fear of hurting Nora, for you couldn't stop her body from shuddering. You rested your head on her shoulder. "Don't cry like that," you said softly, parting her strands as gently as you could with your fingers. Nora pressed her face into her palms, making her sobs muffled and her tears invisible, only the pain seemed to remain unchanged. "It'll grow back."

To give her time to cry, you began to wash her hair. Gently, so as not to tangle it further, you massaged her scalp, rubbing in the foam from the laundry soap, and with each passing moment her body relaxed. She even yielded a little. Nora's wet body touching your clothes, her arms fell limp, her eyelids fluttering closed. Neither dark nor empty. Calm.

"..., hey," you gently shook her by the shoulders, and she immediately straightened her back. You picked up some relatively clean clothes and held them out to Nora. "We're done here. Come on, get dressed. Let's do some shenanigans."

She looked at you questioningly rather than suspiciously - but your head was already hidden behind the sheet and your fingers were tapping against the hut wall. Nora, wiping the water from her body and pulling on a stretch hoodie and wide pants, snuck under the sheet and stared in the same direction as you, trying to see what was wrong. "Pick one," your tone was preternaturally excitable, which made Nora frown. "That one over there," you nodded at the demon that stood on the roof of the far hut. "Or that one over there?" you pointed to another that stood nearby, seemingly cooing something to a young boy with blotchy cheeks sitting on the ground. There was something spread out on tattered sheets in front of him, and you could make out a few water bottles, a pair of old boots, and a flask.

Something seemed to boil above your ear. You turned around, and for good reason - Nora's gaze was on the second, and her face was contorted with anger. You smirked, but slightly covered it with your hand. Still, rage was much better and more productive than despair. "That one," the girl hissed, watching as the demon nearly buried its nose in the cheek of the boy who was trying unsuccessfully to distance himself from it. The demon was clearly whispering something, and anxiety and despair were becoming clearer and clearer on the boy's face.

"Okay," you agreed. "How about this. I'll distract him, and ya come up from behind and hit him right here," you poked between your collarbones.         

"What?" blurted out Nora in a panicked whisper, staring at you with big eyes. "You out of your mind? How could I... How could you...," she gasped and shook her head. "I don't even have a weapon!"

You impatiently began to tap the toe of your shoes against the ground, keeping your eyes on the one Nora pointed at. "If that's all ya care about, then hurry up," the girl gasped quietly as a dagger appeared in your outstretched hand. "Take it."

Nora tentatively reached for the dagger, and the haze that enveloped it enveloped her fingers. She found no reason to recoil, for the smoke was surprisingly soft and warm, though it had no physical form. The dagger seemed to lure her as people lure anyone with sweet promises - the most earthy or impossible, it didn't matter. For as soon as Nora grasped the hilt, each of them felt realizable to her. "Oh yes," you clapped your hands together playfully. "If ya don't kill him, he'll kill me. That's it, I gotta go!"

You waddled toward the boy, clutching your side desperately. "What I have to do?" you heard a worried whisper in behind, but you just waved your hand. You strained your throat and started coughing - until your throat was clammy. No one even noticed.

When you reached the boy, you bent over with difficulty and clung harder to your side. "Water!" you begged in a hoarse voice. "Please ... I can't pay ya anything, but... just a sip, please!"

The black eyes made it unclear where the demon was looking, but you didn't need to - as soon as you'd uttered your pleas, you felt a strong grip on your hair. "I guess no one taught manners to backstreet scum," he whispered the words so close you could feel the slimy teeth on your cheek. "It's not nice to interrupt," his grip only tightened, and for a moment, you felt like a naughty dog being pulled by the leash again. "You have to apologize," the demon's whisper drifted into the steel that bound his voice. "On your knees."

The last words weren't even out loud - they were a precise, invisible trickle that flowed into your mind, making your knees go weak. You, in turn, began to resist, not his order, but your own stubbornness. It didn't work. You remained standing, though you wiped the willfulness from your face.

As you tried to catch a glimpse of Nora moving quietly albeit clumsily behind his back, you received a resounding slap. "Look at me," the demon commanded, and tugged at your hair for persuasion. "Rebellious, aren't you?" he asked wryly, but the dark eyes reflected wariness. "I was just trying to have a good time with this young man," he nodded toward the kid who was huddled harder with his back against the hut wall. "You ruined the whole atmosphere, though. Kinda... romantic. That's what you call it, isn't it?" for a moment his eyes became normal - neither dark nor horrible, but the eyes of someone whose body had been taken away. "You have to compensate."

Everyone around him seemed to freeze, afraid to take a single step to the side. Nora stood at the demon's back literally a couple of feet away, clutching a trembling dagger with both hands right in front of her; whether it was from the girl's excitement or the lingering anticipation of the blade itself. When would she strike?

It was so quiet that you could hear the ringing of silence - the demon probably felt it, too. As soon as he wanted to raise his head, you immediately clutched at his clothes. "I just wanted water! Have mercy! Please!" your sobs grew louder and louder.

"Let the girl go!" came an uncertain but loud exclamation behind you, drawing attention.

"She didn't do anything wrong!" shouted an unfamiliar woman from a nearby hut. 

The hooting grew like a snowball of resentment and discontent. Those who didn't dare to shout glared angrily at the demon, and he could feel it, for you couldn't think of any other reason for the claws digging into your scalp. If Nora still didn't dare now, you'd have to take that opportunity away from her. "Thought we'd do this in private. Okay, that'll be a lesson to everyone," he hissed. "Get undressed."

The way you grabbed the edges of your shirt without thinking reminded you of why people left with demons without a lot of noise and desperate screams. Of course, they were restrained by fear or the grip of frozen horror, but that didn't happen silently; the reason lurked elsewhere - as soon as the demon said a single commanding word, any unprepared person became a puppet in the power of absolute obedience. Even the fact that not all of them possessed such an ability was no consolation.  

Something in your throat made you cough, but it didn't take long for your throat to sore. You looked up to see the black tip of a dagger sticking out of the scattered ashes, and then, when the shroud of the dead man had dissipated, Nora's terrified face. "Geez," you sighed in relief, throwing back your head. "Finally! I thought that prick was gonna rip my hair out!"

"I'm sorry," Nora said with trembling lips. "I'm sorry, I'm...," tears sprang from her swollen eyes again, and you could even feel how hot they felt on her cheeks.

You stood up and put your arm around her shoulder. "It's okay," you assured her, pulling her closer to you, and Nora's nose burrowed into your collarbone.

"I can't believe it," she still sounded confused, every nervous twitch in her voice audible. "I can't believe it!" she threw her head up and stared at you with big eyes, and the corners of your lips crept upward because it wasn't from fright at all, but from excitement. "Holy shit! I really killed him!" Nora's smile, like the morning sun, dispelled the fog of endless tears.

The people around you didn't make a sound, but they weren't in a hurry to leave, either - you could see them watching you from the huts. "I'm not sure whether or not I'm glad ya're talking about it in that way," you clicked your tongue softly, and pulled the girl closer to you. Nora, on the other hand, dazedly sucked in air and looked at you guiltily as the dagger disappeared from her hands. "Don't worry," you waved it away. "Let's go get something to eat before someone else comes running."

Nora's palm instantly flew up to her mouth, and she stared at you in utter shock. "What if... what if one of them saw all of this? Or someone tells them?"

You chuckled relaxedly, feeling her shoulders tense. "We'll figure it out," you assured her, not mentioning that in a case like that, beholders and snitches would have to be made dead.

Beep-beep.

The wind didn't rush in through the open window or make the curtains rustle, but it was cold in the room nonetheless. An unknown movie playing quietly on the laptop threw lights on the walls - smooth and faded, then so sharp and bright that you had to squint your eyes. The chair you were sitting in added to the discomfort - it was the same as yesterday, but you felt like you were sitting on a lumpy rock.

Beep-beep.

The quiet noises from the side were so annoying that every time they made you fake hope that they were coming from the person in the bunk, but no. It was Rachel, sitting on the other side of the bed. She shook her leg restlessly and kept hitting the metal stem, and you thought you could hear her chewing on her nails.

Beep-beep.

"Stupid movie," Rachel mumbled, still holding her finger to her lips. Her gaze was fixed on the laptop, but the images reflected clearly in her eyes, making them look glassy.

"Uh-huh," you muttered absently to yourself, trying unsuccessfully to rub your aching legs.

"He's stupid, too," Rachel nodded at Kyle, and this time it wasn't a mumble; the words were clearer, angrier. "And weak," you glanced at Kyle who was still unconscious, but his peacefully heaving chest and the heart monitor's steady heartbeat made it look like he was sound asleep. "I went right back to work after giving birth, and this asshole can't even get through isolation for the fifth time."

Beep-beep.

"In the seventh," you corrected.

"Who the fuck cares?" hissed Rachel angrily, and you begged, albeit reluctantly and disbelievingly, that her hissing wouldn't turn into screaming. "If he really cared about us, he'd forget about this whole thing! Why do we have to sit by this fucking bed every time," she kicked the metal bedpost with force. "And wonder if he'll make it this time?"

"No one's forcing ya to sit here," you shrugged, and though you kept your eyes on the laptop screen, you still caught a glimpse of Rachel standing up, her silhouette looming dangerously over the bed.

"Don't ya think ya should watch your mouth sometimes?" her voice grew threateningly closer.

You rolled your eyes involuntarily. "Ya know, Kyle may be weaker, but ya the one who's gonna take a fucking dirt nap first," you grumbled, reluctantly parting your lips, but it was in vain - you'd already fallen for the provocation. 

"What did ya just say?" she snapped back.

Beep-beep.

You jumped to your feet and mirrored her pose, resting your hands on the bed - you were breathing in each other's faces right over your brother's body. 

"I said," you started to say loud and clear. "Kyle may be weaker, but because of your shitty temper, ya'll die first," each word you said was louder than the last.

"Ya little bitch!" roared Rachel and grabbed your throat with her sharp nails, but there was no time to do anything - you were pushed against each other.

"Ouch," you whimpered quietly, rubbing your forehead and settling back into your seat.

"Both of ya!" a disgruntled husky voice yelled back at you. "What if I hadn't woken up?" Kyle tiredly plopped back onto the pillow. "Would ya have fought right on top of me?" 

"It's good to see ya awake," Rachel didn't hug him, didn't even look at him - just muttered wryly. "Maybe ya can set that brat straight," she pointed her finger in your direction, and even though Rachel was already in the doorway, you felt like she was poking you in the eye.

Rachel slammed the door shut with such force that you immediately looked at the hinges to make sure they were still in place.

Kyle exhaled and then sat up, giving you a warm look. "So, what's going on again?" he asked softly, giving you a gentle tap on the forehead. You pursed your lips and absent-mindedly threw up your hands - if you only knew. "Okay," he grinned, trying to get comfortable. "She'll be cool down by tomorrow."

"I...uh, I don't think so," you gulped, watching the sheets move due to Kyle's fidgeting.

"What ya talking about?" he raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Ya know her, she'll be back with snacks in maybe a couple hours, and she'll probably start nagging us about Rob putting the cotton swabs on the wrong shelf again."

Your limbs were unpleasantly numb - you couldn't move a finger. And before your voice went numb, you decided to ask the question that had put you in this state. "Kyle," you began cautiously. "What's the last thing ya remember? Ya know... Before I put ya into isolation."

He opened his mouth, but immediately shook his head thoughtfully, and closed it back. "Honestly... Hmm," Kyle tried to survey his surroundings and even himself in it - he examined his hands, his feet, everything his eyes could see without a mirror. "I think I taught ya this morning what cycle to wash your white sneakers on," that didn't tell you anything - you asked him that every time you started a load of laundry. "Also... I think Rob and I were supposed to take the kids to an amusement park tonight? Disney Sea or whatever..."

You were afraid your voice would go numb, but your heart did it instead, skipping a beat or two. You and your isolation ate up about a year of your brother's memories this time. It remains to be seen just how huge a piece of pie you ate this time.  "Kyle...," you exhaled convulsively, smearing the remnants of courage in your voice. "I think we went a little overboard this time. It's been a while."

"Well, the last time didn't pass without problems too, right?" he tried to cheer you up, but he didn't seem to have the right words. You reached out and took his hand, the one with the shimmering silver bracelet on it, and began to rub it slowly and methodically. "Y/N," he grinned nervously, watching you play with the bracelet you'd grown tired of. "What is it?"  

 "Rob...," you accidentally bit your tongue in frustration. "Rob's dead."

God knows you didn't want to look up, but your eyes did it themselves. It was the same picture as before - Kyle's pale, gaunt face. It was like he'd lost a quarter of his weight in a second.

Who had it harder? The person who felt like everyone had already been through it or the person who was put through it a second time?

"What about...," his glittering eyes darted from side to side. "What about Rachel? What about her and Rob's baby? Did something happen to them?" he was already starting to fidget to get out of bed, but you stopped him, pressing him back against the bunk with your hand.  

"Mike- uh, the baby's fine," you held your hand on Kyle's chest, trying to make sure he stayed in that position. "She's had the baby for two months now. It's a healthy baby boy. So...," you purposely stammered, trying to contain the rest of the memories within you, leaving them unspoken. "Yeah, it's fine."

The answer was immediate. "Got it," Kyle said soberly, but turning to you again, his voice was went softer. "I'll take a little break, recover, and we'll try again."

"Hmm?" you raised your head dumbfounded. "Again?" seeing that Kyle nodded, you started to shake your head. "Look, enough already. That was your seventh try, and ya only getting worse each time. It's probably time to... well, dunno. Get over it. Your body's conductivity isn't increasing, and ya still can't go into the void. Let's just leave it, 'kay?"

"Seventh, then... Wow," he chuckled, but he didn't see the shadow of a smile on your face. "Look, if Rob's gone, does that mean there are fewer voidrunners, too?" he quipped, and you clutched at his bracelet so tightly that it nearly broke. "No arguments. I'm not Rachel, and I'm not gonna yell or prove anything. Ya should know your place. After all... In our position, it's your job to lead anyone through isolation who's expressed a desire."

He was right, but what about your desires? Was it really so selfish to want to protect at least the people you love from danger?

You quit fiddling with the bracelet and carefully climbed onto the bunk and snuggled under the blanket. "Hey," Kyle chuckled softly, peeking under the blanket and meeting you face full of childish annoyance. "Come on out of there," and with that, he stretched out his hand on the pillow.

You shook your head stubbornly, which made him smile even more. "I'm sorry. I was really rude when I said that. If ya come on out of there, I won't do it again," Kyle said, and before he knew it, your head was on his forearm.

"Sometimes I do wanna be selfish," you muttered quietly through pouty lips. You could feel his calloused fingers stroking your arm as if trying to push the bitterness away.

"I know," Kyle kissed the top of your head. "Ya just wanna protect us, but... Y/N, we're all adults, and we make our own choices. You've warned us a hundred times about the consequences, so if something happens to us, it won't be your fault - we signed up for it ourselves."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" you raised your head and glared at your brother - your wrinkled nose made him chuckle, but apparently he was trying to restrain himself - all that came out was a squeezed sound through his nose. "Let's talk about something else," you muttered.

"Okay. What's more news?" he asked serenely, stroking your hair - the touch was so light, it was like Kyle was barely touching it.

"Well...," you drawled thoughtfully. "I used to think that I just didn't understand something or that it was just the dioreacts hiding so well, but I guess not. They don't have consciousness. Or maybe I'm just missing something after all. Dunno," hearing a dubious hum, you added. "I can't sense their consciousness in isolation."

"Otherwise it would be too easy for us...," Kyle snorted annoyed. "Will there be any good news?" he asked, spitting and puffing on your hair, which he'd, electrified himself.  

You peered slyly out from behind the hut's wall, watching Bjorn. The poor thing, unsuspecting of your return from the sortie, was sitting on the floor, counting his cigarettes, humming to himself in his overgrown beard. You quietly stepped inside, and involuntarily began to giggle. "Bjorn," you addressed to the man, smiling ridiculously, but only got an annoyed wave back. "Bjo-o-orn," you drawled mischievously, and the sound of clanking made him raise his head sharply.

You appeared before his eyes, holding a pair of shears - his fear. You deliberately made a couple or three more cutting motions, and Bjorn jumped up like a stung man. "Don't you dare!" he hissed, and saliva seemed to fly through the hole where the tooth should have been. The man as if in a fight between two predators began to circle around you, never turning his back on you - all to get closer to the exit. Keeping your eyes on him, you clanked your scissors threateningly again, cutting the air "I'll rip your arms off, witch," he growled, backing away.

You were in no hurry to catch up with him, but only wished he were in the opening. As soon as he was there, his back was against something huge. "Oter, seize him!" you shouted, and Oter, on command grabbed the man under the armpits, lifting him into the air, and only then did you begin to approach the writhing Bjorn - if it had not been for his weight you might have said that he looked one and all like a frightened ferret. 

"Conspiracy!" Bjorn yelled, but there was no escape from Oter's grip - his arms were so strong that Bjorn felt as if he were being squeezed by a golem. "They wanna kill me!" his voice had already reached its highest possible pitch when you were close to him and ran your hand through his beard.

"Stop squeaking," you tried to concentrate so you wouldn't cut off anything else including Bjorn's skin, but he was preventing it by shaking his head and body relentlessly in all directions. You glanced meaningfully at Oter who was as bald as a baby after the similar manipulations you'd done, and just as satisfied. Oter squeezed Bjorn harder, so hard that all the air went out of him.

"What's going on here?" came a panicked and panting voice from behind Oter's back, and he immediately let go or you could say dropped Bjorn to the floor. You immediately put the shears behind your back and skulked to the drawers, pretending to look for something.

"Those two...," Bjorn mumbled, trying to cough and crawling back into a corner. "Those two wanted to kill me!"

"That's not true!" you frowned immediately. "We just wanted to give ya a haircut!"

"Liar!" roared Bjorn, still clinging to his precious beard.

"Jonah!" you whined, stomping your foot. "Tell him!"

Jonah was still standing in the doorway, leaning his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "You guys completely crazy? I thought someone was getting killed in here..."

"Right in front of you is the victim of a crime," Bjorn didn't relent.

"Shut up," Jonah muttered irritably, taking his backpack off his shoulders. "You really need a haircut. It's taking too much soap."

"It's natural thermoregulation!" he objected indignantly, spreading his arms apart.

You pouted and picked at the floor with your toe as deliberately as if you were convinced something precious was lurking there. "Lice's breeding ground," you muttered to yourself. "Where have ya been?" you asked Jonah, coming closer to the shelves.

"At the huckster's," Jonah replied, pulling bottles from his backpack. "With all your hygiene, there's no water to spare."

"Well...," you drawled meaningfully. "Just because we live in the middle of a dump doesn't mean we have to smell like one."

"Your moral compass is costing me too much," the man muttered, though he was glad he smelled like laundry soap instead of decaying flesh for the first time in a long time.

"Sorry," you said guiltily. "I'll make it up to ya. I was going back anyway."

"You know, I was sure you weren't a robot just because I saw your blood," Jonah grinned nervously. "Now I'm not sure of anything anymore. Why don't you get some rest, just for a little while?"

"I'll rest after this sortie," you sighed, and noticing how skeptical Jonah was staring at you, you added, putting your hand over your heart. "Promise."

"Relocate."

"Yeah, sure, why should we say goodbye..." sighed Jonah unhappily as he continued to arrange what he had bought into the crates.

***

When you first came into this room, you couldn't even take a step. All those piled towers of stuff covered with sheets stood so close together that you couldn't even squeeze between them - any movement you made would cause them to sway threateningly. Therefore, sortie after sortie, you cleared these debris, starting at the entrance.

The room looked different now, and though much of it was still unexplored and shrouded, it was now organized and everything you could get your hands on was boxed up for its intended purpose. You had boxes of bath supplies, expired medicines, clothes; you even had a little box where you put jewelry - as you searched you found everything from cheap costume jewelry to expensive one. 'Ya don't need it anymore, and I still have a dozen hungry mouths to feed,' you thought each time you put another ring in the makeshift jewelry box. There was even a box where you naively hoped to put the chargers, and every time you put a new one in there or just looked in it, you literally saw the evolution. They were all motley, some of them, judging by the connectors, were from the twentieth century. Only one of them fit your phone, and all it did was make you want to tear it up because you didn't even have a chance to check if it was working. There was no electricity.

Kicking the box of wires away, you threw the sheet off another pile of stuff and sat down to start sorting it all out. The monotonous work was soothing and even enjoyable as if you were getting into a routine, and it felt like you were closer to home.

You arranged the things you took out around you, mentally categorizing them. On the right - leisure, toys and surviving books, on the left - everything that could be thrown into the furnace (like old notebooks and other waste paper, and everything that was somehow made of wood), behind - jars, plates, bowls, knives, forks and spoons. Long story short, everything that would help you not to turn into pigs.

Remembering Nora, you kept thinking you'd find a hairbrush, and if you were lucky, maybe this time you'd find a nice shampoo to replace the tired bar of soap. You excitedly pulled out item after item, and if you thought it didn't fit anywhere, you tossed it to the far corner. It was like that until your palms hit something big, hard, and cold.

You tried to pull the object out, but either it was too heavy or you had lost all your strength. You furrowed your brows, buried your hands deeper and strained, trying to pull something out, but it only came out jerky as if you were trying to pull a stubborn carrot out of a bed.

The more strength you exerted, the more the object wobbled and moved away from the place it was stuck to, and with one more clumsy tug, you fell on your back. On top of that, the heavy object you were so desperately clinging to crushed your chest.

Your eyes met a metal box with housings, various levers and bolts. "Why the fuck do I need a carburetor for?" your voice broke with frustration, and you sounded so resentful as if the universe itself had wronged you. Putting the carburetor aside, you stared into the hole you'd made. It was almost impossible to see anything, but the thief's eye caught a fleeting glint.

Humming to yourself, you knelt down and tried to fumble for whatever it was that glinted so strongly in the depths of things. When it was in your hand, you pulled it out. It was copper wire. "Holy shit," you exhaled quietly and immediately put your palm to your mouth, a high-pitched squeak coming out of you. You felt like a mischievous five-year-old who'd rummaged through Santa's sack while he was harnessing the reindeer.

There was a whistling in your ears with such force it was like drinking five cups of coffee with already high blood pressure.

"It's just that as one of their punishments. Demons make us eat a pack of salt."

You already had electrolyte. The very packet of salt that no one had ever touched was still on the shelf in the hut. All you had to do was find iron. At least aluminum.

You jumped to your feet and started sharply tossing the sheets off, and your movements were sharp but unsure - you didn't know where to start. Before you knew it, the room was in the same condition as it had been at the beginning, with piles of scattered garbage piled tightly together, leaving no space.

Nevertheless, there was nothing here. Not a single piece of tinfoil.

Positive thought is always selfish - it fills all of a person's thoughts, leaving no room for anything else. Negative thought is so welcoming that it invites its 'friends' for a stroll through the mind, causing the person to jump frantically from one bad thought to another. They intertwine with each other until they form a tight knot of despair.

"You mean he made a deal with ya a year ago?"

You knew the first thing you'd do if you got out of here. You'd check out each and every one of those snakes that were crawling above. Whether or not they die in the process was not your problem.

Trying to suppress the trembling in your knees, you sat down right in the middle of the mess. Your foot, living a separate life, was tapping a fidgety nervous rhythm against the floor.

A sickening lump started to rise in your throat. Just a few moments ago, it was as if you'd been given a delicious Belgian chocolate to sniff, and as soon as you reached out to break off a piece, it was snatched away with an ugly laugh.

Your foot came to an abrupt stop. The last thought that ended the chaos in your head was about the chocolate bars.

***

It was getting harder and harder to relocate precisely - your body was letting you know about the overload, and sometimes it was even physically impossible to take a breath. Every day it became more and more painful. Therefore, you accidentally moved far away from the huts and ran to yours as fast as possible, with an overflowing backpack shaking behind your shoulders.

Once you were in the doorway, you couldn't quite make out those present through the joyful veil - it was enough that they were just there. "Bjorn!" you exclaimed running over to the shelf and starting to open your backpack - a huge amount of chocolates, a charger cable, copper wire, and a wristwatch flew out. "Where are all the bottles?"

"What do you mean? I sold them," the man said in a tone as if he were stating the most obvious thing in the world.

"Ya did what?" you asked disbelievingly, and the look on your face was as he hadn't sold a bunch of plastic, but your relative.

"Well, excuse me!" Bjorn apologized sarcastically, bowing. "I wanna smoke, and you can't even conjure up a cigarette!"

"Fine," you hissed, tearing the wrapper off the chocolate bar with a jerk; though annoyance had just boiled up inside you, you immediately softened and almost jumped on the spot - there was foil inside. "Now we're all gonna go rummage through the garbage."

"Why should I?" muttered Bjorn.

"What are you up to?" asked Jonah quietly, leaning against the shelf that held the chocolates.

"Ya wanna get out of this place?" you turned to him in a conspiratorial whisper, but the people behind you heard and immediately perked up their ears.

"Is this some kinda bad joke?" grinned Jonah nervously and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're such a bullshitter!" bellowed Bjorn angrily, and seemed to toss something aside.

There was a satisfied mooing from the side, and you turned to see that Oter and Nora were sitting in the corner; the giant was teaching her how to handle a needle and thread. "I wanna," Nora whispered quietly, and Oter nodded vigorously. You glared at Nora, and grabbing your jackets from the forgotten nails in the wall, nodded your head toward the exit.

[April 29, 2020; 9:09 pm; Hopetown]

It is a truism that the spring air changes everything around people. Even the taste of tea on the tip of Frank's tongue felt different with the green grass, the buds in bloom, the flapping of migrating birds' wings. In spite of his imposing figure, he felt a lightness inside that only dimmed or disappeared when he thought of you, but he was careful to keep those thoughts out of his mind with the cares and chores of the household.

Frank had just finished examining the cattle, and had not forgotten to feed the smaller cattle as well - his legs were buzzing from such a seemingly small walk; the man scolded himself for this, for only a few years ago he might have undergone such exertions that people had doubts about his mortality.

As he sipped from his large mug, Frank looked out the window watching the children all the time. He'd never been able to catch the moment when he'd changed from the absentee father to the overprotective one, and no one could tell him which was the better of the two evils.

Noticing dusk approaching, Frank sighed, set his mug aside, and opened the window. "Mike! Tris! Get home now!" his voice was so booming that the mountain tops didn't shake thanks only to a miracle. It was only when two tiny silhouettes ran toward the hill that he calmed down and was about to close the sash, except that there was someone else on the horizon, and that someone else was also heading toward Frank's house.

Frank hastily replaced the sweat-soaked T-shirt with a clean one, for no matter what his guests' intentions were, they were to be greeted in a proper manner. He heard Tris and Mike rush in like a tornado, laughing as they swept through the girl's room.

Literally a minute later, there was a knock on the door.   

Though Frank had seen the figures through the window and could mentally make out who it really was, still a surprised interjection escaped him. "Oh," said Frank dully, flapping his eyes. "What a surprise," the man shifted his gaze from Gojo to Danielle.

"Hey," greeted Gojo, waving his hand carelessly. The girl stood beside him, huddled and not lifting her gaze from the floor. "Dany said she can't stand to stay in that house, so...," he scratched the shaved back of his head thoughtfully. "I brought her to you. What are you standing there for?" he shoved Danielle lightly in the back, intent on bringing her out of her stone statue state. "Come on in." 

Frank looked worriedly at the girl who was going up to the second floor. "Dany, what's the matter...," Frank muttered quietly, hesitating whether to follow her or not.

"I wanna be alone," she mumbled over her shoulder, after which she disappeared from sight.

"Uh," Gojo began, hiding his face in his high collar. "I hope you don't mind if Megumi shows up here too? He's on a mission right now, and when he gets back and won't see Danielle... He'll start making those nasty faces again."  

"No problem," Frank shrugged cordially. "Why don't ya come in?"

"Nah, it's fine," Gojo fussily waved his hands in protest. "Gotta go."

Frank looked him over meaningfully, dressed in his black uniform, and what was still new was the blindfold over his eyes. "Work, huh?" 

"Kinda," Gojo chirped into the fabric of his robes. He was already turning on his heels, waving at Frank one last time. "I'll bring souvenirs!" 

"Ya really think I'm just gonna buy that?" shouted Frank after him. "That ya just took off work to bring Danielle here? Kyle, Rachel, or even Doc could have done it," Frank watched with a kind of amusement as Gojo froze in place. "Since ya're here, come in. Have some tea at least after your journey." 

Gojo walked into the house to an elderly snicker - it gave him goosebumps. Of course, he suspected there would be only two possibilities: he would either be stopped or not, and both felt equally fatal to him. "Sit down," Frank nudged Gojo toward the couch with a heavy hand, and handed him a mug.

Gojo took a small sip and grimaced, setting the cup down on the coffee table.  There was no sugar in the tea. "Look at ya, picky," Frank chimed in, taking a seat beside Gojo. "Sugar's over there," he pointed to a beige sugar bowl on the kitchen counter. "Help yourself."   

"So welcoming," Gojo sarcastically remarked, clapping his hands and standing up from the couch. 

Frank watched as the man walked over to the kitchen counter and began to rummage around. "Well, tell me about it."

There was a reason Gojo had volunteered to accompany Danielle - Rachel wasn't home, and no one was bothering him with questions. But Kyle's hard and intrusive stare was hard to bear, and Gojo had the good sense to keep quiet or it would have ended in a little scuffle - in his mind, a fight that would have left the house a stone unturned. "I don't know how to say this."  

"As it is," Frank said, and Gojo really didn't want to go back there - to the couch where your protective father sat. He continued to pour sugar into the mug in silence with only the occasional tapping sound. 

Gojo didn't know if he was being mature or immature. Would it be honest to tell Frank or was he just going to turn the whole thing on Frank's head, absolving himself of all responsibility? 

His words were always ahead of his thoughts, and Gojo didn't consider that a disadvantage or an advantage - maybe it was always just for the best, so why now did he feel like his tongue had caught in his throat? 

So as not to arouse more suspicion and doubt, Gojo returned to the coffee table and seated beside Frank, but dared not look at him even through the piece of cloth over his eyes. He stared at his hands, but could see neither the mug they held, nor the coffee table, nor the rug beneath it. "Uh, here's the thing," Gojo chuckled nervously. "I kinda hovered around your daughter for a reason. At first," on the last word, he accentuated his index finger upward. "I... Well, how can I put this..." 

Frank gently took the mug from his hands and set it on the table. "Son, look at me," Frank asked in a soft baritone.

As soon as Gojo raised his head through his inner protests, he immediately felt a sharp pain between his eyes followed by an aching sensation in the bridge of his nose. His hand instantly flew to the sore spot, and he watched Frank involuntarily, fearing another punch.

Frank calmly walked over to the fridge, rummaged around in the freezer, and nonchalantly as if nothing had just happened walked over to Gojo and held a bag of frozen vegetables to his nose. "Put your head back."

"Well," Gojo muttered into his nose, cradling the bag with one hand and wiping the blood off his upper lip with the other. "I'd say it was deserved, but I didn't even finish the sentence." 

"Ya didn't have to," Frank muttered angrily, helping to wipe away the blood with absorbent cotton. "Now ya'd better say something in your own defense so I don't make ya fertilizer in my garden," Gojo wasn't afraid, but he activated infinity just in case, and Frank's arm was immediately thrown aside. In fact, the size of the pain he had just experienced was nothing compared to the size of the weight that had just fallen from his soul. "If ya think a trick like that is gonna stop me-" 

"They promised to bring someone back to me," Gojo said absently, tossing the bag of vegetables back on the table, and then stuffed the absorbent cotton deeper into his nostrils. Noticing Frank's look, he added: "Your higher-ups." 

"That's how it is," sighed Frank dejectedly. "Well, that's all right. I almost fell for a trick like that once myself."

"So it was a ruse after all," there was no sadness or despair in Gojo's voice - only complete understanding with humility read between the lines. 

"Dunno. I never agreed to it in the end," Frank said, stroking the watch on his hand gently, which didn't go unnoticed. "Maybe it was a bluff. I haven't met anyone with resurrection powers yet."

"You don't know all the abilities of your world?" blurted out Gojo his question suspiciously, yet indignantly.

"What about ya?" Frank began, squinting his eyes more and more and moving toward him. "Like ya know all these damn techniques yourself?" 

"Cursed," Gojo corrected Frank. As a reminder to keep his mouth shut, the pain in the bridge of his nose recoiled with a new throbbing.

"I said what I said, don't ya correct me," muttered Frank, and immediately pulled away.

"Well, actually you're right," Gojo said meekly and with a barely perceptible shrug. "I don't. What, then... Uh. Why did you refuse?" 

"Because the dead must stay dead," Frank retorted sharply, but when he heard such a boorish tone come from his lips, he softened at once. "Who knows what that might do?"

The image of Kenjaku still smiling at him immediately popped into Gojo's mind. Wasn't it a resurrection? Perhaps Frank was right, and the realization had come to Gojo a long time ago, but it formulated and took a clear image only now, when it came out of someone else's mouth. 

Frank quietly but unexpectedly broke the silence. "How's your nose? Lemme see."

"It's fine," Gojo waved it away and pulled out the bloody absorbent cotton and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, making sure it wasn't wobbling. "It's all healed now." 

"Not bad," hummed Frank approvingly

Gojo's face had a smug expression on it like a click. The only thing that remained unchanged was that he was still watching Frank's fingers run over the wristwatch strap. "So, uh... your wife, huh?"

"Son, ya either have a spare nose or a sense of tact," Frank noisily blew the air out of his nostrils, but the years of accumulated and unreleased grief immediately made itself known. His shoulders slumped and slouched, the mug in his hands shook, and who knows whether it was safer in his fingers with white knuckles or on the floor. "Yeah, wife."

Gojo had already put his foot on his leg in his customary manner, leaning back against the back of the sofa. He felt too strange. Like home. "And the watch? Her present?" 

"It was Shaya who asked me to marry her."

It was amusing to watch such a big man blush and see it all over his face - down to his ears, but that wasn't what made Gojo laugh out loud. "Look at you, you big, shy man. I wonder what kinda woman she was," he said wiping away a tear with his finger. 

"Hmm," Frank drawled slyly. "Actually, I was thinking of showing ya Y/N's childhood pictures, but since ya're acting like that," he watched out of the corner of his eye as Gojo stretched out of his previous position in a second. "And she's in there without a mask, eh..."

"I'll behave!" blurted out Gojo almost in the man's face.

"Oh, no-no, that's not the point," began Frank pathetically, rising up and rubbing his lower back. "I haven't got the carrot weeded yet, and with my back it takes a long time, ya know... Well, some other time-"

Gojo squirmed in place with even more vigor. "I'll do anything!"

"All right," Frank sighed, maintaining a distressed look with all his might. "Come on then, get the box from the top shelf," the man barely had time to point to the closet before Gojo was immediately beside it. "The black one." 

It wasn't hard to find - the box stood out against the background of old hats, mittens and scarves. But on his way back, Gojo overexcited and bumped the chair leg, and the entire contents of the box fell right into Frank's feet. 

Trying to calm him with a look, Frank began to pick up things from the floor; there weren't many of them, just a small scrapbook, three braided bracelets, and…

"Where's the watch?" murmured Frank anxiously, looking around at the few items put back in the box. "Where's the..."

Gojo, who until then had been standing nearby with a guilty look, noticed a velvet box rolled under the table. "You mean this?" he asked, picking it up from the floor. 

"Thank goodness!" blurted out Frank in relief taking the box, and after opening it and making sure the watch was in place, he put it away with everything else. "Sit down," he clapped the seat beside him, and as soon as Gojo sat down, Frank immediately froze, staring at him. "Get your rag off."

"What?" asked Gojo, confused by the swap of Frank's behavior.

"I said take your rag off your eyes," Frank hissed, and that voice, similar in sharpness to the end of an obsidian arrow, made Gojo's spine tingle.

He took off his blindfold, and as soon as Frank saw the blue eyes, he immediately assumed his usual good-natured look. "What," chuckled Gojo nervously. "You really thought I was one of those?" 

"Well, why?" shrugged Frank. "Ya come sniffing around here..."

"I just wanted to see a picture!"

"I know," Frank said, opening the album. "What should I show ya..."

"Can't we look at everything?" whined Gojo boyishly, trying to peer into the album Frank had opened. 

Frank immediately blocked the view with the lid of the box. "The deal was for one picture!" he reminded, and Gojo immediately flopped down resentfully and sank into the back of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, ya can't actually see her here," Frank muttered, looking at the fishing picture - all he could see was the back of your head and the rod. "Here either," Frank looked at your back and the soldering iron in your hand - he'd taught you how to solder that day, having previously broken every silver chain in the house. "And here she's too far away," he said, turning the page and facing you who was hanging by one arm from some rock, looking at the camera and waving with your free hand. "And this one's not for ya to see yet," he quickly turned the page as there you were - swimming in the bathtub surrounded by ducklings. "And this one's okay... She's barely into puberty here, so she's a little different, though..." 

"Stop teasing me!" exclaimed Gojo, trying to pull the lid off the box, but Frank clutched it tightly.

"Well, ya ready?" Frank asked suddenly, taking his eyes off the album, and Gojo's breath caught in his throat - he wasn't ready. He realized it only now - would he really see your face? He wanted to ask Frank to pinch him, but his tongue refused to move. Gojo nodded silently and briefly, and Frank raised his eyebrows in surprise, but held out the photo.   

Gojo tried his best to defocus his vision and not look at the photo. He squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, holding it in his hands in front of him. It was so stupid of him to let you get any closer, even though you weren't even here. But he didn't blame himself for wanting to cross all your possible personal boundaries - you were already a part of his life, regardless of your presence.

Maybe he should have delayed this moment and waited for you to remove the mask yourself.

Maybe you were right when you said he was quite altruistic exactly as long as it didn't involve his selfish desires.

Maybe he wasn't ready. But he'd already started.

Gojo opened his eyes. All the precious things he had touched - whether it was the black rope, the inverted heaven spear, or the candy were immediately destroyed, but what he was holding in his hands now was priceless to him. 

It was you. You were wearing a yellow raincoat against an overcast, dark gray sky. Your wet strands falling from under the hood over your shoulders, and you were looking away, laughing. Your lips spread in a wide smile that bared your teeth, nose wrinkled, eyes half-open. Your features were soft - not childish, but you couldn't be called an adult. He could see someone's tanned hand reaching out to you in the shot, which was probably Rachel's. What did she do to make you laugh so hard? What did she say?

It seemed to Gojo - no, he was sure - that he had never held anything so carefully in his life. Where would he put this picture now? In a frame? In a purse? In his chest pocket, perhaps? "Random shot," Frank's satisfied voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "We were supposed to go to the river, and the forecast said it was only gonna be a drizzle, but I got called into work. When I got back, it was pouring... My kids were coming back from the river, and I had time to take a couple of pictures. Rachel came down with pneumonia..."  

"Do you think she'll come back?" asked Gojo quietly, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

"I dunno how to answer that question, son," Frank echoed his muffled tone. "But I do know that she's been missing for a lot longer than that."

"What was the maximum?"

Frank started counting something on his fingers. "Hmm... A little over three years."

"What?" spat out Gojo indignantly, but immediately relented feeling that he had crumpled the picture a little. "I'm not getting any younger here, actually," he muttered to himself, looking directly at the image as if addressing you.

"Why should ya care?" resented Frank with his arms at his sides. "Ya're in your fourth decade, and ya look like a kid in his twenties!"

"You could use a drop of cream, too," he said, smiling cheekily. "When is your birthday, by the way?"

"Brat," groaned Frank menacingly, shifting his gaze from him to the photo.

Frank's gaze, as if reading his intentions, caused Gojo to clutch the picture to his chest and begin to slowly pull away. "You know what else I've noticed?" he was well aware of the danger of this, but the excitement could not be taken away. "You care so much about your wife's things, about her wedding present and her watch, but where is your wedding ring? Did you take it off? Or maybe you found someone?" Frank tried to grab him by the shirtfront, but his hands stopped a couple inches away. "He-he." 

The joy was gone at once. The man was suddenly so depressed that it was clear that it was hardly because he had failed to set Gojo straight again. "What a fool ya are," Frank mumbled, resting his elbows on his knees. The disheveled gray hair that had come loose from his ponytail covered his face. "The watch is that ring."

"What?" asked Gojo confusedly and almost helplessly, shifting his gaze to Frank's wristwatch. 

"That's how it is with hunters," Frank began, carefully adjusting the velvet box that rested in the black box. "I have no idea why. Probably because time is the most precious thing we have after all. And since they opened the entrance to the void, it has sacred significance for me personally, even though I've never been there. Dunno about the rest," Frank didn't sniffle, but Gojo noticed the man wiping something off his face with his sleeve. "It wasn't even a new watch that was valued, but one that the owner had worn for a long time before. Here, they say, 'I'll always wait for ya at home'."  

"It's just a watch. If it bothers you that much, you can just return it later."  

Gojo took the same pose as the man, while turning your picture. He was embarrassed to even look into your painted eyes. "Okay, I went a little overboard. I'm sorry," the apology may have come out through force, but it sounded sincere. "Would you mind... You know. Slap me on the back?" 

"Son, ya all right?" asked Frank worriedly, looking at Gojo's slumped figure.

"What if I told you I just need support?"

"Why didn't ya say it sooner!" exclaimed Frank, and slapped him on the back with such force that Gojo nearly hit his forehead on his knee. 

"Much better," he said, straightening up. There was a crunch in his vertebrae. "And, uh... Can I keep the picture?"

"Well," Frank drawled meaningfully. "I've still got some unfertilized roses standing out there..."

Gojo grinned while carefully tucking your picture into an inside pocket. "Got it."

There really was a lot of trash here. The only downside was that it was all piled up, guarded by those who had the nerve to keep the others away. "You brought water, what do you want with those bottles?" grumbled Bjorn, stepping behind you.

"We need the empty ones," you pointed out, eyeing a bigger pile of trash. "We only have four, and we'd need... Dunno, fifteen, I guess?"

Nora trotted along beside you, and you had to speed up because Oter was already kicking up your heels in his usual gait. When you stopped at one of the huts and looked through the fence netting, you noticed only two people who were looking through the local 'treasures'. They were so engrossed that they didn't even notice the five persons walking up to them. "Excuse me," you politely called attention to yourself, and the person who was sitting with their back to you flinched and turned around. It was a woman. She looked like everyone else - dirty and putrid. Her eyes widened with fright as she faced you, who smiled welcomingly, Nora, who drew your dagger in her direction with shaky hands, Bjorn, who stroked his stick of nails affectionately, Jonah, who tried his best to give himself a menacing look and glared at the woman, and, as the icing on the cake, Oter, who hovered over your backs. "Really need your dumpster. Just bottles, we won't take the extra," you stated cheerfully, noticing how she was backing away. The other man was nowhere to be seen.

"Get out of here," growled Bjorn, and spat thick saliva on the sand. "Or else I'll shove this stick in-"

"I think she gets it," you said through gritted teeth, shoving Bjorn's shoulder and continuing to smile. "No, honestly," you turned to the woman again, throwing up your hands. "Give us fifteen minutes," she nodded or shuddered in response, but began to move further and further away from you without turning her back. When the woman rounded the corner of the hut, she sat down and began to watch you, apparently not really thinking much about stealth. "Well, come on. Let's get to work," with that said, you started digging through the trash.

"Nah, you deal with it yourself," Bjorn muttered lazily, taking a seat and leaning against the hut wall. "I didn't sign up for this at all."

Nora glanced at him in disgust. "You sure you're a man?"

"Why?" he grinned, licking his lips greasily. "Want to check it out?"

"Hold your horses," you warned him, tossing either a rotted banana skin or a piece of flesh in his direction. "She's got a dagger in her hand now, and I might go blind for a couple minutes," you glimpsed Nora, but the muscles in her face seemed to be relaxed. "And ya can do whatever ya want," you added quietly, and she chuckled weakly.

Bjorn snorted irritably. "Women have never understood humor," you let that phrase pass your ears, but you were still worried about Nora, but she just kept digging through the junk.

"Here's the first one," Nora chirped contentedly, holding out the bottle to you, and you never seemed happier - it wasn't just a piece of slick plastic to you, it was a step forward.

***

You all sat in a circle as if to perform a ritual. You placed chocolates, salt and six bottles of water, a pile of empty bottles, a coil of copper wire, and the charger cable suitable for your phone on the floor. You sat across from all this wealth with your legs tucked under you and your clasped hands to your lips. Something kept you from starting. You tried to retain every slightest sense of that awe, and as you shifted your gaze from object to object, all you could think about was that you had never held such precious things in your hands before - no artifacts or jewelry could compare to them. "So... what's next?" Jonah's voice seemed unusually loud in this silence.  

"We should unpack all the chocolates," you muttered, nodding your head involuntarily. "Get the foil out and distribute chocolates. The quicker - the better. And make sure it gets eaten as fast as possible, because if the demons notice, we'll be in a lot of trouble."

"Okay," Jonah said and started unwrapping the chocolates, placing the foil next to you. He glanced at you every now and then, wondering and worrying why you were just sitting there.

"What are we even doing?" turned Nora conspiratorially to you

"There's such a thing as the electrochemical activity series of metals," you muttered, scratching your chin.

"Your black magic again," Bjorn snickered huskily, taking a bite of half a chocolate bar at a time.

You lazily and grudgingly clucked your tongue, and your eyes rolled back. "I won't go into details. I'll just say that if you put two pieces of different metals in an electrolyte, you can always get electricity."

"Come on, Bjorn," laughed Jonah, seeing the man begin to boil over. "It's just physics," Jonah pressed his lips together guiltily seeing Bjorn jump up. He grabbed a couple more bars of unwrapped chocolate and flew out of the hut, muttering something to himself. "Uh... What's electricity gonna do for us? We seem to have light anyway."

You pulled your phone out of your pocket. "With electricity, I'll be able to charge this thing, and this thing will in turn show me my date and time," your insides clenched painfully as you wondered for a moment how much time might have passed. "And I'll be able to get out. And get ya out of here, too." 

Oter gave a satisfied mumble, and it was clear from the way he waved his arms that he was getting attention. You looked at the way he poked at himself first, and then at the pile of stuff. "Grab the shears and start cutting the empty bottles exactly in the middle, 'kay? The edges aren't that important, they can be crooked too, so don't worry too much about it."

Oter nodded happily, and started doing what you had instructed him to do - he seemed so focused that he wanted to stick his tongue out, and only now did you notice that there was only half a tongue.

You and Nora began to cut the copper wire - exactly into such pieces that you could crumple a 'ball' out of a piece, and that one end of the piece of wire was sure to stick out.

Everyone did their things in silence and as carefully as possible as if a word or a sudden movement might break the magic that had entered the hut. There were fifteen bottles, so you had to measure by eye so that there were fifteen pieces of wire with the end sticking out. There was enough tinfoil already accumulated, that should have been enough too.

"Jonah, ya know...," you drawled, looking at the stack of chocolates. "I'll take one with me, though. As a souvenir," planning anything before it was even a possibility was presumptuous and usually a failure, but you couldn't deny yourself that.

He nodded briefly and noticed the look on your face - it wasn't focused or anticipatory at all, it was like you missed someone.

"Okay, good," you summarized, seeing everyone finishing up their business. "So now, we take the container," you slid half the bottle toward you. "And we cover the inside walls with foil. All the way around. Only beforehand, one end of the foil should be twisted into a bundle, and covered a container inside so that this bundle sticks out of the bottle," you carefully twisted one end of the foil into a bundle, covered the inside of the container with foil, trying not to tear the thin metal material, and put it on the floor in front of everyone. "Here, see? It's the same as the aluminum can, except this thing should be sticking out," you rubbed the flagellum with your finger.

"I don't know what's going on, but I like it," Nora squeaked excitedly, grabbing another container and foil.  

The corners of your lips crept upward when you heard such Nora. "Now... Jonah, do we have any old rags left? Any old rags that we can spare. Even my uniform will do."

"Yeah, sure," Jonah said and taking a nail opened one of the floorboards, whereupon he took out your form.

You tore it into pieces, after which you wrapped pre-prepared bundles of copper wire in separate scraps of cloth and placed them in a container so that the tip of the copper wire would stick out of the bottle on the pair with a flagellum of foil.

"You seriously tore your uniform for this?" asked dumbfounded Jonah, putting emphasis on the last word. 

"An insulator. It needs to keep the metals from touching each other or there won't be any current," you shrugged, correcting your creation. "Need electrolyte," you announced, picking up a packet of salt. You poured three big spoons of salt into each bottle of water and shaking everything well began pouring the solution into an aluminum foil-lined container. "Too bad there's no voltmeter...," you sighed, admiring your made battery. "In a thing like this, uh, I dunno… about half a volt? Anyway, the more we make batteries like this, the stronger the current will be."

"So what are we waiting for then?" blurted out Nora, hastily grabbing the next container and foil.

The room was filled with rustling and puffing. Jonah, as it happened, was doing everything very slowly, but you didn't blame him seeing how hard he was working and carefully covering the bottle with foil. Nora, on the contrary, was in such a hurry that she had torn several thin layers of aluminum, but you didn't make any remarks to her either, for you understood her zeal - you were burning with it too. Oter, as if afraid of breaking everything, only watched your actions mesmerized.

When it was done and you had fifteen identical batteries in front of you, Jonah slammed himself on his knees with particular enthusiasm. "So, what's next?"

"Let's connect," you suggested, and slid the three batteries toward you. "See, copper connects to aluminum," you explained, weaving the tip of the copper wire of the first container with the aluminum harness of the second. "And aluminum connects to copper," you wrapped the aluminum harness of the third container around the copper wire of the second. "No copper-to-copper or aluminum-to-aluminum, it won't work. We should end up with an open-circuit with the aluminum harness at the first container and the tip of the copper wire at the last."

It wasn't a difficult task, so why were your hands shaking so much?

When the open-circuit was finally complete, you cut the charger cable without thinking, plugged it into the phone and set it down in front of you. Oter and Jonah crawled over your back and peered out from behind your shoulder; Nora, however, watching such a picture, chuckled. "It's just a phone."  

You carefully removed the outer and inner sheaths from the cable, and four wires showed -white, green, red, and black. "Okay... If this is done to standard, then red is plus, black is minus."

"And the white and green?" asked Nora, laying her head on your shoulder and watching.

"They're kinda for data transmission," you pondered, trying to remove the insulators from the two wires. "So they're not really needed right now."

When the conductive strands of the red wire were bare, you intertwined them with the copper wire sticking out of the last container. The black wire was not so easy - unlike the thin copper wire, the aluminum harness of the first container was too thick and not so bendable, so you had to hold it by hand.

The conductive strands of both wires were finally connected to the battery. Your hand was shaking, and the black wire's core kept popping off the aluminum, so you put your other hand around your wrist, telling it not to move. "What do we do next?" whispered Jonah, peering out from behind your shoulder.

"Pray," you replied in a cracked voice.

Everyone looked at the phone with a heartbeat, but with each passing second, the rapid heartbeat normalized, bringing with it a taste of disappointment. You could hear Nora sighing heavily, you could hear Oter crawling back to his corner, and you could see Jonah drumming his fingers disappointedly on the floorboards.

If you were a believing person - you'd recite a hundred prayers in a second, if you were a non-believing person - you'd pray for the first time, but your phone screen lit up.

And then it went out.

"Oh my God," your chest constricted with exultation, but you couldn't say the words, only incoherent babble. You bent down and rested your forehead on the floor. "It's working! This shit is working!" A passing person might think you were praying to a deity, but it was just a phone in front of you.

Maybe your compass did break when you got stuck here, but it always stayed on autopilot.

Nora shook you by the shoulders forcing you off the floor, and when you lifted your body with a loud gasp, she hugged you as hard as she could. You giggled involuntarily as she nuzzled her nose into your cheek. "Okay, guys," you barely audibly said from behind Nora's tight embrace. "There won't be anything else interesting anyway, so go get some rest."

"And you?" anxiously threw up her head Nora.

"And I'll stay to hold the wires," you said taking the core in your hands and bringing it back up to the aluminum.

The charging was very slow, and the screen of the phone went out from time to time - it seemed that the current in the battery was dropping at times. The hand that held the wire was getting stiff so was the rest of your body, so you tried not to move too much. You sat there with your legs tucked under you. This was accompanied by a wonderful musical accompaniment in the form of Oter who had been snoring for a long time.

Every time the phone screen lit up again, you caught a glimpse of Nora looking in your direction, and if the first time her eyes were wide open, the tenth time they were already clumped together and her eyelashes were twitching.

Jonah was awake. He couldn't sleep - he didn't understand what you were doing, but he knew in his gut the importance of what was happening. You said this thing would help you get out of here, but why is that look on your face now as it always was in those moments when you thought no one was looking at you? "Hey," Jonah quietly called out to you, taking a seat next to you. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure," you replied idly, keeping your eyes on your phone.

Jonah blanched, swallowing the confusion and shame. "What helped you not to give up?" the question sounded timid, almost inaudible. In fact, what helped you? You put it down to your temper or to the nature of the job, which didn't tolerate the weak-willed, or maybe because of the people you'd met here, or... "There's someone waiting for you out there?"

Why is it that the most common truths only come to people through other people's mouths? "I...," your voice broke as you realized for the first time what had been pushing you forward all this time. "I have no clue," you whispered quietly, pressing your chapped lips together. "But ya know what?" just as you'd been prepared for the inevitable failure of someone close to you to return one day, you'd also expected yourself to be lost one day and hoped that the others would take it the way you would - as a given and without much drama. "This is the first time I've really hoped so."

The first time he'd heard you speak like that, and trying to find words of encouragement or comfort, Jonah peered at you through the darkness of the hut. "Hey," he began warily. "What's wrong with your eyes-"

The door swung open with such force that it knocked all previous emotions experienced here recently out of the hut. "Hey, you fucking scientists," Bjorn said drunkenly, and seeing the bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand, you were already going over in your mind what he'd sold in exchange for alcohol this time. "They've brought in some newcomers, let's go see."

You glanced at your phone's screen - eighty-eight percent charge. "Newcomers?" you asked dumbly, frowning and tucking the gadget into your pocket.

There was no answer, but Bjorn walked back outside and flopped awkwardly on the porch. You and Jonah looked at each other. He shrugged embarrassedly and stood up, heading for the exit. You followed him.

When you were outside, you stepped outside the fence and rested your forearm on one of the flimsy fence posts, barely missing Bjorn's foot. Everyone had come out of the huts. A rumbling, tense whispering stung the back of your neck.

A column of people did appear at the beginning of the street. They were walking slowly and could be seen being pushed forward at times. The demon ahead of them was clearing the road of people lying motionless on it - with each careless sweep of his hand, their bodies flew into the fence with a loud clang, and some of them were left with only their internal organs which crumpled into the sand.

As the column neared you, your body tensed. Twenty-three people in all. What a strange thing -no different from the ones already here, except that they were clean, frightened but ruddy, all young - about the same age, with no visible defects, and their physiques were just right: neither fat nor dystrophic, and if you looked closely, you could even see that they had a toned bodies. "Holy shit," you blurted out with eyes widened with insight. These were the people for the merge.

Diomorphea is here.

You looked up sharply at the demon buildings, and then looked down at your bony hands, your lips curved in resentment. "Fuck!" you roared kicking a fence support, and it flew out of the sand. There was such bitterness in that action that if that beam had been human, it wouldn't have taken offense, but instead would have started to comfort you. "Why now?" 

That story about the elephant being afraid of the mouse was nonsense. You needed to get home and show the place to the others as soon as possible, and then you were ready to give the doc all the rights to manipulate your body just to get you back in shape. Let him pump you up with whatever he wanted, let him use his powers to rebuild every structure until your bones started to crack. You hadn't even gotten out of here yet, and you wanted to get back in here sooner. "Are you okay?" asked Jonah seeing you rubbing your forehead with your fingers as if your head were splitting.

You grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the hut. "I gotta go. So listen carefully," Jonah was so taken aback by what was happening that he couldn't get a word in edgewise. "Every three days, one of our people will come here and live with ya. Each time we will bring medicine, food, water, we will heal people whenever possible. Ya will recognize the others. They will be in the same uniform as me. We'll live in your hut. The most important thing is that we will start taking out two or three people with us, and your task is to decide whom we take out. I suggest ya start with those who are very sick. Lure them into your hut any way ya can, but don't say anything to anyone," you said the last four words as firmly as possible. "I don't want people to start whispering. Do ya understand?"

"W-why it supposed to be me?" Jonah began to stammer.

You looked at him as if he were a fool. "Who am I supposed to trust with this? Oter, who doesn't speak? Nora, who's still reeling from the trauma? Or maybe a drunk prick who pisses himself?" you shook him by the shoulders. "Pull yourself together," until recently Jonah never dared think he could get out of here, and now he's being told he has to decide who gets to go back to the old, familiar, and beloved world first. He looked at you, but saw nothing through the wet veil that covered his eyes. "It's okay. It's fine," seeing the grown man break down, you tried to reassure him. "I'm worried too," you took his fallen hand and leaned it against the artery in your neck. "Do ya trust me?"

He nodded weakly and turned away, wiping his wet cheeks with his sleeves. "S-sorry. I just..."

"It's okay," you gently splayed your hands. Deciding to give him some privacy, you decided to finally work up the courage to turn on your phone.

You pressed the power button quickly, but when the logo appeared, you wanted to throw the gadget into the sand and bury it as deep as possible. What if you'd been here too long? As long as you didn't know the date and time - everything seemed possible and fixable. You could just keep looking and keep letting yourself hope and wish. What kind of fool would agree to break it all with his own hands?

The logo disappeared. The lock screen lights up.

   08:31 PM

Friday, May 29, 2020

You pressed your lips together tightly, stopping a convulsive inhalation. People were probably hang out at a bar now, or shopping for food and goodies for the weekend; maybe someone was at an amusement park, or just watching their favorite show, sipping wine or soda pop.

What were the people you cared about doing? You bit the knuckle of your index finger, trying to suppress the squeak that came out. You could go out and see it for yourself. "Friday," you tossed over your shoulder, grinning.

It was as if Jonah had been pulled out of a long coma that resembled a dream mingled of joys and sorrows. "What?" he asked in confusion.

"It's Friday," you were already giggling stupidly, looking at the date.

Jonah stepped closer and stared at the screen with you - even an uneducated person could see what it said. "Nice stuff," he smiled, still sniffling.  

You took out the wristwatch you'd stolen from that room, and staring intently at the phone's screen, began to adjust it twisting the crown. When the times finally matched, you turned and handed it to Jonah. "Take care of it," you said, gazing into his flushed nose and swollen face, but he did look happy now. "I gotta go," you said quietly, not looking away.

Jonah smirked sadly, taking the watch and slipping it on his arm. "Aren't you going to say goodbye to the others?"

"They're asleep," you said, hoping he'd believe your good intentions. In reality, you just didn't know how to say goodbye.

"Wait a second, you forgot something."

He came back, holding the backpack in his hands. When you looked inside, you saw a chocolate bar lying there alone. "Thank ya," you whispered quietly, trying to calm the blush creeping up your cheeks with your mind. 

The air was knocked out of you as he pulled you against him in a bear grip. The hug was strong, but the surprise was stronger. You didn't feel like pushing him away, and disgust didn't burn your stomach, making nausea come up your throat. "Take care of yourself," he murmured into the top of your head, and loosening his grip a little rested his forehead against yours. "Run, girl."

Not daring to look the man in the eye, you nodded erratically and took a step back running your fingers along the line from your chin to your cheekbones. Jonah had already forgotten that you once wore that black thing on your face. "See ya," seeing him nod, you turned and rushed towards the nearest rift.

Even though you couldn't feel your legs, you kept running. As you got farther away from the settlement, the cold air, even without the wind, whipped harder and harder against your face. You could not get enough air in your lungs, but you would rather die than stop one-step away from the exit.

Sand between the toes of the naked feet, in the eyes and hair, in the mouth and even in your stomach. You ran through the void with nothing but guts and one chocolate bar on your shoulders in the backpack. You didn't even want to turn around and see if you were being chased. 

The rift was getting closer and closer, your hand reached forward on its own, and as your fingers disappeared in a purple glow and your lungs filled with oxygen, you fell.

[May 29, 2020; 8:57 pm; Hopetown]     

You were lying on the ground. It was the same place from which you had last entered the void, but now, barely conscious, you could feel that it was much warmer than it had been then. The forest didn't seem so scary anymore, the trees swayed serenely from side to side, lulling your already exhausted gut to sleep. Your hand tried to cling to the greening grass, but to no avail - as soon as you crossed the line, there was no strength left to pluck even a single blade of grass.

'Fine,' you thought resentfully, watching through half-closed eyelids as your fingers refused to move. The grass was soft like a bed, so you didn't mind lying there for a while longer.

You mumbled unhappily as your body suddenly began to levitate, an ability you'd never studied, so you had nothing to do with it. When your body flipped, you realized that you weren't just floating in the air - you were being held by someone's hands. A shade of gray hair glistened in the tired light of the nearly gone sun. "Hey, Frank," you greeted the man with a weak smile.

You felt like you were riding in a carriage over huge bumps. It was nauseating. "Hush," Frank held you tighter against his chest without slowing his stride. "Hush," he repeated, and only then did you hear his voice shake frantically.

"Frank," you mumbled rubbing the collar of his T-shirt. "Don't tell anyone I'm here yet. I really want a hot bath," the sound of your voice muffled against Frank's neck sounded weary and exhausted - the man couldn't stand that tune. "I want shampoo, I want conditioner, I want body wash, I want body scrub, I want moisturizer, I-

"I got it," it was no less than a God joke - Frank didn't cry even at his own wife's funeral, but when you started listing what hygiene supplies you wanted, tears themselves streamed down his face. "I'll get everything. Just be quiet already." You obediently fell silent, and a marvel swirled in your mind - indeed, nothing could destroy your desire for life.

next ⊳

[sincerelyyuu]

for my "in the end, it's still you" readers!

p.s. the ending remains the same regardless of the poll results, but i'd love to see your thoughts 👀

[peanutapplesauce]

Ocean view

| Gojo x Y/N Comfort prose?

Author's Note: I wrote this because i felt really overwhelmed with life. hope this piece brings you some warmth :) lmk any thoughts, feedback, etc!!!

Based on Se So Neon's song, Nan Chun.

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The ocean was calling her again, its rhythm whispering sweet nothings in her dreams to get up and leave the windowsill. To be underneath the pitch black sky with the waves embracing her softly, caressing every inch of her flesh and gently dissolving all her fears before breathing solace to mend her soul.

And under the same starless sky, the waves nipped away at every exposed flesh of his — thrashing around for any semblance of his grievances. Satoru, the strongest, would brace his soul and fight the push and pull of the salty sea for glimpses of her. His fingers frantically grasped and grappled at her flesh, desperately holding on until she was ready to float back ashore, away from the ocean that sung her promises of immortality and bliss. Because Satoru knew the ocean was a liar, that the promises were broken and the muffled cries of the mermaids were proof of this. But she was too far gone, too drowned.

And he grabbed her hand, hugged it close to his chest, waiting with bated breath to feel her pulse glow with life once more. Even prayed to his deity for her spirit to fight against those thoughts of hers once more. Counted to ten for any sign, then repeat from zero until something gave.

And something would give, just before the waves could sing its final chorus. He’d witness the flutters of hope return to her eyes, and she’d be met with his unwavering gaze full of light and tender patience. Once more, she would wish there was another way to repay him in full but her grateful soul was the only thing she could offer with open palms.

Then, wordlessly, gently, his hands would guide her away from the windowsill - away from the roaring ocean outside just like he always did when she found herself drowning. A quiet muttering of, “Come here, hug me.”

And once again, they’d live through the night and into the sunrise.

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Oh my dear don’t fall apart // don’t get cold on the windy windowsill

Come here and hug me tight // live through today and let’s go to tomorrow

[asjeontrw]

Credits to @UQUOOZZ on Twitter

@asjeontrw

[screampied]

gojo hates whenever you say “bye,” to him.

“heyy. don’t say that. it’s see you later,” he corrects you, pulling you into a tight hug. his embrace was warm, you felt practically squished against him, but you never minded. he’s always loathed goodbyes, especially whenever they came from you…the love of his life, his will to live, his entire being.

it’d be the most random moments, for instance, you being on a phone call with him—you’d conclude your conversation with him before saying that word.

“no—it’s see you later, baby.”

“oh..see you later, ‘toru.”

he’s never told you why flat out why he isn’t fond of the word ‘bye’ so, you never questioned it. not once. you figured it was just another one of his personal dislikes, which was an entire list if you were being honest. the word had simply little to no meaning, yet to him it meant so much more. you find yourself sometimes pondering, wondering how a small three lettered word would hold so much meaning…

furthermore, you wouldn’t expect to find out so soon.

it’s always ‘goodbye’ or ‘bye’ and never ‘see you later’ until gojo’s laid in your arms.

clinging onto his last breaths, a hand squeezing onto yours as if he didn’t want to let go.

myriads of droplets of your own pathetic tears fell against his pale frigid skin.

your mind couldn’t fathom nor process how him. the satoru gojo, the strongest, manage to lose. not only lose his battle but lose the one and only love of his life.

“g—goodbye, baby.”

“don’t you mean see you later?” you corrected him, furrowing your eyebrows while bringing a thumb towards his cheek to lightly stroke it.

oh . . he always loved that tiny gesture, it always calmed him, soothed him, makes him think that everything would be okay.

your voice broke the more you spoke as you watched him succumb into a pure new world of peace, pure bliss.

even in final moments, he’s still got that dumb beaming grin of his. you sniffled, feeling the scorching heat reside in your heart.

you were desperate for him to stay before he struggles to bring your hand up to his lips, giving it a chaste kiss before whispering,

“i . . i know, but it’s different this time. just say it for me, one more time,” and his eyes that was once so full of life. “please.”

they looked different.

demoralized, defeated…

“. . . goodbye, satoru. i love you.”

you awaited for him to say it back, he’s always said it back, he’s even beat you to it. but like always, gojo was right.

you were too late, far too late with your timing that before you knew it . . .

he was already gone.

all thanks to your goodbye.

[sttoru]

“c’mon, megumi. tell me what’s botherin’ ya.” satoru pouts at megumi, his arm thrown around the boy’s shoulders. you watch the scene unfold with a tense smile.

megumi was exhausted from school, training and so much more. the teenager’s patience was wearing thin. especially with satoru almost pressuring him into telling you both what’s weighing on his mind. when all he wants is to be left alone at the moment.

the tone satoru’s using to talk to megumi only pisses the high schooler off more and more. it’s fatherly. like he’s still the little child satoru took in and cared for. it pissed megumi off, along with everything else;

“you’re not my dad, so stop fucking acting like you are!”

you freeze. satoru freezes. megumi freezes. time freezes. the silence was deafening. no one was moving. your eyes flicker over to satoru’s and your heart shatters in a million pieces.

satoru’s hurt. so hurt. it’s visible and he’s not hiding it — not hiding it like he usually would behind a wide grin. his blindfold and glasses aren’t there to hide the way his face falls either.

“i know.” satoru whispers. his voice lost its cheery tone, his eyes have lost their spark. the sorcerer slowly distances himself from megumi. a bitter chuckle leaves his lips. a futile attempt to hide his shaky voice, “i know.”

all you could do is stand there in shock. megumi doesn’t know what to do after his little outburst either. and satoru. . . well, satoru is the first one out of the room. you hear his breath hitch as he walks past you. you see his eyes twitch. the strongest, in tears.

[riaki]

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

[nkogneatho]

"i can't believe you did this to me, toru" you looked at him with almost tears in your eyes. your heart was aching. you couldn't believe that you just witnessed the love of your life betraying you. and the worst part was...he wasn't he even sorry about it. not an ounce of shame or regret masked his face.

"you want me to be sorry? aww poor thing. you'll never get my apology, y/n." he mocked you.

"after all those times we spent together...this is how you treat me?"

"you deserve it if i am being honest," he spat. how can he say that? did he never love you? was all that a lie??

"i can't believe you right now. i wish this was a nightmare. i loved you so much but you? you give me this in return?"

"babe. i love you too but pick up 24 cards. you can't win this time," he pointed at the deck of uno cards. he really pulled out three draw fours on you. well he was right. you did deserve it since you did the same last week. but you thought he'd go easy on you.

"i hope your favorite kikufuku stores shuts down." you glare angrily at him while counting the cards you have to pick

"you take that back or i'll give you another draw two."

"FUCK YOU, GOJO SATORU!!"

"yeah, i love you too"

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

[tonycries]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy - G.S.

Synopsis. He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, wild west! AU, cowboy! Satoru, mayor’s daughter! Reader, Satoru is SO DOWN BAD, angst, kinda slowburn, friends-to-lovers, bartender! Nanami, cunnilingus, oral sex (female + male receiving), unprotected sex, gun violence, pet names (m’lady, my love, + others), tumbleweed bandits, reader and Satoru are both going through stuff, Gege cameo, swearing, author’s daddy issues come out.

Word count. 12.1k (I’m scared)

A/N. You know how hard it was to make this all cowboy-y. Anyway that’s off the bucket list.

Art by @_3aem on X.

“So, you itchin’ for a beating from me or yer’ wife?”

Glowering down at the drunk old pervert as he waddled away in fear, you sigh as you dust down your heavy skirts. Typical. The sun beats down on your face as you look up at that familiar faded banner.

Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon

The only bar in your little town of Rustcliffe, and by default the only one around for miles. You hated this place - not the saloon, no, the handsome bartender there was always a sweetheart. But at some point, the comfort of your quaint old town had become too comfortable.

But that’s a story for another time. Right now, you were here to drag your father back home - per usual. 

Rolling your eyes at the cacophony of drunken voices carrying from inside, you step through the dust-bitten swinging doors. 

What hits you first is the stench of cheap alcohol, and then the inebriated camaraderie of the men around you. In the dim lighting of the saloon, you squeeze through the crowded tables and make your way to the bar. 

Not a hair out of place, as usual, Nanami lights up when he spots you. “Well, it’s been a while. Here for the mayor again?” he speaks over the boisterous laughs around you. 

You flash him a smile, “Yeah, you know my father. Fraternizin’ with the voters and all that.” you wave off your father’s excuse to come down here. 

“Certainly takes his job very seriously.” Nanami chuckles, “You’ll find him over by the window, in the back.” he points. 

Tipping your head in thanks, you walk the treacherous track to take your animated father home. When you come in view of his table, you find that he wasn’t alone. Damn, it was always harder to convince him to go when with other people.

You know your father has spotted you by his lively laugh and gleeful shouts, “Ah, my daughter! My beautiful daughter! Whatcha doin’ here? Come come! There’s someone I wan’ introduce you to.” 

A smile slips out unintentionally at his almost-endearing pride. You mentally prepare yourself to say some awkward hellos to some of your father’s old drinking buddies before dragging him home. 

Upon reaching your father, he immediately pulls you into a drunken embrace, wrapping his slightly rocky arm around your shoulders. “This is the daughter I was telling ya about! Prettiest girl in town! Hell, maybe even the country, knowin’ ma girl.” he prattles. 

In his jovial state, he abruptly turns to face whoever he was drinking with, unsteady on his two feet. Probably another old geezer, you assume not taking your eyes off your father until you could make sure he won’t collapse on the bar floor for the third time this month.

Finally, you look up. 

Your eyes meet blue. 

Blue, blue summer skies. 

To Satoru, you were the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you menacingly threatening that creep outside through the window, every word the mayor said went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the other. Too entranced. 

And when he introduced you as his daughter? Shit, it might just be fate.

“C’mon now boy! Cat got yer’ tongue? What happened to that sharp mouth of yours?”

The booming voice of your father snaps Satoru out of his captivation. Damn, he must’ve been staring for too long. 

Mentally praying you weren’t spooked by his speechlessness, he finally speaks, voice slightly shaky at your presence, “Ah- Good day m’lady. Apologies for my impoliteness, the name’s Satoru Gojo.” he tips his crisp white hat. Gently grasping your hand in his, he places a delicate kiss, looking up at you as he awaits your response.

You gaze, slightly awe-struck, at his ethereally beautiful white locks and the impish grin from where he held your hand. His lips were so soft.

“Oh!” you startle at the clap of your father’s hand on your shoulder. Shit, you were definitely staring too long.  Rushing to introduce yourself, you quickly interject a “Nice to meet you, Satoru” before your father starts leading the conversation once more.

“Satoru here is a traveler, arrived jus’ today! Told him people like us could never, I mean imagine, right?” he slurs. 

Your ears perk up at this piece of information, “Oh? Are you really a traveler, Satoru? How admirable.” you gush, previous bashfulness forgotten. Was that…a blush spreading across his face? Couldn’t be - your town's whiskey was known to give people rosy cheeks on occasion.

“Thank you, m’lady. It’s nothing special really, jus’ staying here a while.” he barely gets the words out before you father bellows a tangent - “Don’ be shy, boy! How wondrous traveling is, kids these days could use some toughening up!”

Both of you rush to catch your father as he sways with a passion seen only during election rallies. It takes the two of you to steady the man. As he continues babbling half-lucidly, you cock your head sweetly at Satoru, “Help me take him outside?” 

Satoru thinks his knees might give out then and there.

The air is chilly by the time the three of you step outside, sun making its way below the horizon. Despite your father’s protests that he can ride home on his own, he knocks out as soon as Satoru gracefully mounts him on his horse. Carefully saddling behind him, you try to make sure your father doesn’t fall off of Satoru’s beautiful white Quarter horse.

“You really don’t have to escort us home, Satoru. My ol’ man wouldn’t even feel it if he fell, I swear.” you insist as Satoru holds onto the reins from the ground, feeling bad for bothering him.

“It’s no trouble. After all, Gege seems to like him very much, hm?” Satoru remarks as he turns to his stallion, who attempts to bite him in response, “Can’t say the same for myself.”

“Hmm, how can I be sure yer’ not a serial killer?” you tease, reveling in the sharp laugh it draws from him.

“You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me, m’lady.” he hums, eyes sparkling with mirth. There’s a lull in the conversation as Satoru pulls on the reins to start walking you down the road, the rhythmic clip-clop! of the horse filling the still air.

“So you travel?”

“This is a nice town.”

Both of you speak at once, anxious to fill the silence, only to sputter self-consciously.

“You can-”

“No no, it’s only customary for a lady to go first.” he hums, looking up at you. 

“Tell me stories of your travels.” you breathe out, eager for any crumb of escape from your little town. 

As you made your way home to the sprawling family ranch, the night adorned itself with twinkling stars that matched the mischievous glint in Satoru’s eyes as he told you bizarre tales from his life on the road. 

“IN MY DEFENSE, it was dark an’ that tumbleweed was shaped suspiciously like a lowly bandit. Hey- don’t laugh- it was a very heated standoff!” Satoru exclaims animatedly as you cackle. 

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, cowboy. Even bandits woulda run away from your clownery.” delighted at the way the moonlight illuminates the blush that tinges his ears. 

Making a fool of himself, Satoru’s stories have you laughing until your cheeks hurt, wishing you could experience them too. You almost forget about your father’s deafening snores and the bite of the wind. 

But Satoru does not. Brows furrowing as he catches your slight shiver, he mentally berates himself for forgetting his manners. How dare he let a lady suffer the cold while he still had his fuckin’ coat! What a sorry excuse for a cowboy, this is worse than that time he accidentally lassoed a rattlesnake.

Hastily shrugging his coat off, he passes it to you with a sheepish smile on his face. 

Face heating up against the cold draft, you breathe in the smell of pine, amber, and something so Satoru. Clearly not as affected as you are, Satoru launches back into his stories.

If Satoru thought his knees were going to give out before then he knows they’re about to now. He aims to keep his eyes steadfast on the road as he recalls his endeavors, because he’s aware that even one glance at you all wrapped up in his coat wouldn’t be too good for him.

Making out the warm lights in the distance, his heart falls as he realizes his time with you is drawing to an end. You seem to share similar sentiments, as you sigh silently.

Once again, a silence falls upon you two (well, three if your slumbering father counted) - but this time, it was serene. You could almost drift to sleep if it wasn’t for your mother’s frantic calls for you from the front porch. 

“Oh, darlin’, I was so worried! I didn’t think it would be so late out!” she frets as Satoru helps you get down from his horse. Hands on your waist searing into your skin. 

Clearly awoken due to the commotion, your dad stumbles his way down and towards your red brick villa. 

“Ah, honey! I’m home…somehow…you know, I met the most interesting fella Something-toru. A wanderer, real interesting.” turning comically to Satoru, he exclaims in delight “Something-toru! How didya get ‘ere?” 

Stifling his laughs, Satoru backs away, claiming he had to leave before your father roped him into more rounds of drinks. Which clearly didn’t work because your mother approaches him, “Stay, Satoru, stay! Can’t have you sleepin’ underneath some tree when you escorted our darling daughter all the way out here.”

Any refusals are immediately blocked out by your very inebriated father yelling out in agreement, claiming he wanted to listen to more of Satoru’s “funny lil’ stories”. Your parents head inside - well, more like your mother heads inside with your father in tow - having taken his speechlessness for agreement.

As you follow, you turn to Satoru, a strange part of you gleeful at the fact you won’t have to part with him for now. “We’ve got an extra room, and it’s got yer’ name on it. The stablehand will stall Gege, c’mon, it’ll be a lot better than the ground.” you grin.

“Hey! The ground can be very comfortable.” Satoru declares defensively, yet follows you inside anyway.

It’s only rushed goodbyes and promises to talk tomorrow morning as the housemaids fuss around Satoru. “Goodnight m’lady.” he’d winked as your head housekeeper clutched her pearls at his dirty boots on her recently polished hardwood floors.

That night, as you lay in your childhood bed, you realize that you still have Satoru’s coat on. Whether from his coat or something else entirely that you did not want to explore, you felt so warm inside.

---

Morning dawns with the symphony of the Western meadowlark that nudges you gently awake - usually. Today, it’s abruptly shattered as the door bursts open and someone barges into your room. Judging by the thud of hefty boots, you knew very well who it was. 

“Rise n’ shine, m’lady!” Satoru’s voice - way too cheerful for six in the morning - chirps out. 

It’s been a few days since Satoru has been staying with you. Now more a friend than a guest, you expect he’s come to wake you up for a morning ride with Gege, watching the sun rise as you exchange silly banter. But it’s so early…

“What do you want, Something-toru.” you grumble out from in-between your comfy covers. You secretly delight at his whines of “How dare you not remember my name, I even told you about the rattlesnake lasso!” 

The warmth of your bed and the melody of Satoru’s voice has you sluggishly falling back asleep - that’s before he promptly sits on your bed. The force of it bouncing you both, making you sit up with a laugh.

Satoru was on your bed.

Satoru was on your bed. Shit, after what your father told him this morning, he wouldn’t blame you if you kicked him out with a punch to his pretty nose right this second. Mentally slapping himself a million times over, he hurriedly gets out the reason he was sent in to wake you up in the first place, “Ah- Um, the mayor is meeting with…someone important, wanted you to come down and meet him. Well, if tha’s all then I’ll be going, Gege won’t brush himself, sadly.”

And before you could get another word out, he’s swiftly out the door. 

Satoru was on your bed. Your cheeks slightly heat up as you realize you didn’t mind?

His words ring in your ears as you get ready for the day - if it was someone important, then you might as well dress to impress. Impress someone else too. Shaking off these strange thoughts from your mind, you make your way downstairs, nose wrinkling at the smell of tobacco that greets you.

You’ve always hated the stench of the overpriced tobacco your father brings out to impress guests. “There she is! My daughter!” your father smiles, beckoning you over. “There’s someone who’s here to see you.” 

Grimacing at the cloud of smoke, you take a seat on the plush sofa beside your father. He gestures at the man seated in front of him, “This here is Naoya.”

Despite his sharply handsome features, you shift uncomfortably at the way he watches you like a predator appraising his prey, eyes following your every movement. Apparently approving of what he saw, his lips curl into a smirk, “Your future husband.” he says saccharinely sweet.

What the fuck?

“Father?” you panickedly turn to him for answers, voice strained at your attempt to keep it even. But your father merely guffaws out a laugh, “Well well, nothing confirmed just yet. But you know with the way things are going with the re-election, might as well get to know a suitor and...” his voice trails off as he takes another puff of his cigar. 

“My apologies sir, I refuse.” you drone out, looking straight at Naoya. You don’t miss the way his smirk grows leeringly as he mutters “You don’t have too much of a say in this matter, sweetcheeks.”  The audacity.

Apparently your father doesn’t hear, a more grave expression taking over his face, “Now I’ve talked with Naoya, you’re of marriageable age. And as young as I feel, I won’t be around forever. You need someone to take care of you, dear. We’ve talked about this.” 

Tears prick at your eyes as you abruptly stand up, disturbing the smoke around you. “I can take care of myself.” you spit out venomously, storming your way to the heavy front door in an attempt to run away from this situation.

In the dim sunlight filtering through the curtains, Naoya watches in amusement as you stomp out of the room. Hilarious, the feisty ones were always the best. 

Over the mayor’s ramble of apologies, he grins “No don’t worry about that. She’ll be mine either way.”

The heavy wooden door creaks in protest as you slam it shut, echoing your frustration. The brisk air is a temporary relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside.

“Talked about this” your ass. Every conversation - if you can even call them that - was a heated warning about being married off before you end up a spinster. You couldn’t care less about ending up alone if it didn’t mean living life with a man that talked to you like that.

Your thoughts block out the crunch of the gravel beneath your boots as your feet subconsciously lead you to the stables, where you used to play hide-and-seek as a kid. More recently, though, it has become an escape from conversations like these. 

Approaching its familiar wooden doors, you catch a glimpse of Satoru, back turned and meticulously grooming Gege.

Sensing your presence, he turns with an easy smile that quickly fades as he notices the deep furrow of your brows. “Hey there, m’lady. Everything alrigh’?” cerulean eyes flit across your face worriedly.

“Oh yeah, everything’s great. Just got introduced to my absolute asshat of a future husband.” as if Satoru’s concerned expression makes something in you snap, the words tumble out along with your tears.

“I don’t even- The way he looked at me- Can you even believe?”

Satoru was about to rip apart whoever this load of horse manure was that made tears streak down your pretty face. Throwing his brush down - which Gege didn’t quite appreciate - he quickly envelopes you in his arms, letting you muffle your sobs.

“Hey hey. It’ll be alright, we’ll work something out. I promise, m’lady.” he consoles. 

Eventually, as your cries die down, you look up to see the rising sun casting a soft glow on Satoru’s features, illuminating the sincerity in his gaze.

The determined glint in his eyes emboldens you, “Yer’ right, I will not be forced into a marriage, especially with someone like Naoya. I’m not anyone’s property.”

A subtle warmth is present in Satoru’s gaze as he utters, “Tha’s my girl.” before reeling back and backtracking immediately, “Ah! I mean- good for you m’lady. Naoya ain’t the one. Anyway, tell me about this ‘asshat’.”

You raise a brow teasingly at his rapid change of demeanor, before plopping down on the hay, launching into your first impression of Naoya and why the rumors downtown of him making babies cry were probably true. 

The sun shines high in the sky as you lay there in peaceful silence, only to be broken by the doubt weighing heavy on your mind. “I’m scared.” you admit.

Satoru turns from his place beside you from the hay, “It’s alright, you got Gege and myself beside you. If Naoya ain’t the one then he ain’t the one.” 

Your eyes meet his twinkling gaze, “Yeah, he’s not the one.”

The air grows charged with something unspoken as the silence stretches out. Satoru can feel the tips of his ears burning at your words - stop it Satoru, she didn’t mean anything by it. As always, he retreats into humor to break the crackling silence. 

“I’d help you hide the body, y’know. Then you can have a shotgun wedding with whoever you want to share your days with.”

“Oh yeah? What if he turns out just like that asshat?” you challenge. 

“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you can always run away with me. Fightin’ tumbleweeds together.” Satoru makes light of the situation, in an attempt to etch that beautiful smile on your face once more. It works, as you throw your head back and laugh.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” you get out in-between giggles. 

If someone looked at you like Satoru did, you probably wouldn’t mind marrying them. A voice whispers in the back of your mind, sending your brows furrowing once again.

Meanwhile, Satoru finally had a name for your future not-husband - Naoya.

Urgently getting up and removing the hay stuck to your clothes once you hear your housemaids calling for you, you leave Satoru with a grateful smile that had him swooning out loud immediately after the stable door shut - to the very visible judgment of Gege.

It felt like a knife in his chest when the mayor tittered secretly to him about your future husband this morning, thoughts of you getting married plaguing his mind all morning. Well, if you were happy then it’s fine, isn’t it? 

He was halfway through imagining you in a beautiful dress of white when you’d arrived with a cloudy expression covering your gorgeous features. If Satoru had thought hearing about your fiancé was like being stabbed, then the despair on your face made him feel like he was completely cleaved in half. 

You deserve someone that deserves you. Probably not him. Certainly not Naoya.

Walking back to the house to fetch his riding gloves, he’s lost in the thoughts of standing off against a faceless man calling himself your husband when he bumps into somebody.

“My apolog- Asshat?” Satoru blurts out at the man testily raising a brow at him.

“Excuse you, barn boy?” he fumes, at the nickname that slips by. Ah, he’s done it now. Lips tweaking into a forced smile, Satoru grits out, “Ah, apologies, sir. Cowboy tendencies.”

The air is tense as Naoya mutters, “Keep those to yourself.” He moves to walk past Satoru, before stopping close enough to utter words meant for only him to hear, “And stay away from my future bride. I saw the hay on her skirt, yer’ insane to think you’d have a chance, barn boy. Go back to wanderin’ around.”

Satoru stands rooted to the spot as Naoya walks off, too many emotions he can’t name whirling inside him. That morning, he stalks off for his longest ride since arriving at Rustcliffe - not coming back with Gege until well after midnight. 

---

To Satoru, long rides always mean interesting dreams. Right now he was in a tap-dancing competition against a one-eyed alligator who looked suspiciously like your father. It’s a shame - he was winning too - that the competition is suddenly crashed by an angel calling for him. 

“Satoru…Satoru!” 

An angel that sounded like…you?

“Satoru if you don’t wake up I’m feedin’ your boots to Gege.”

His eyes shoot open, yet his sleep-addled brain still struggles to process you standing over his bed, soft hands shaking his bare shoulders lightly. “Angel?” he rasps out. 

You huff out a laugh, “No, I’m here to drag you to hell - or close enough at least.”

Face burning at already making a fool of himself before noon, he sits up in bed, blanket sliding off to reveal his toned upper-half.

Shit, it should be illegal to casually have a body like that. 

Trying your best to avert your eyes from the dips and curves of his sculpted body, you continue, “My father’s holdin’ Rustcliffe’s annual Harvest Hoedown in a few weeks, the whole town’s gonna be there. You made it just in time for some dancing lessons.”

“What makes you think I need dancing lessons?” Satoru raises a brow playfully. You take a brief moment to admire the way his sleep-tousled hair curtains his alluring eyes, before replying in an ominous tone, “I need dancing lessons.”

Wow, you really did need dancing lessons, Satoru notes as he stifles a laugh when you step on the poor instructor’s foot for the fifth time this afternoon. 

Locked in the stuffy studio, he recalls the way your father demanded that you not step one foot outside until you mastered the upbeat waltz for the hoedown - putting Satoru in charge of making sure you don’t slip away. “It’s stupid really, he’s never had a problem with me sitting out before. All because that asshat will be there…” you’d muttered hotly on the way.

Ah yes, that asshat. Sleep weighs heavily on Satoru’s eyes from riding all night long, yet his words still ring painfully in his ears. Who did he even think he was to have a chance with you? 

Well, it’s alright, Satoru will be out of this town in a few months, and you’ll marry some man of your choice that could give you everything you could ever want.

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his overthinking tirade is the abrupt pause of the music and the heavy sigh the dance instructor lets out - clearly having taken a break for his own sake rather than yours. You shuffle sheepishly across the polished floor to where Satoru stands, “Was it worse than you thought?” you grimace.

“Well, you always do find a way to surprise me, m’lady” he teases, chuckling at your dramatic groan. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the instructor rushing outside for a smoke. Hopefully not because of your dancing…

You scoff in defense as Satoru’s cackles grow louder - having thought the same thing. “Well, I’m sure the great Something-toru is much better on his feet.”

Instead of retorting, he steps one heavy boot onto the waxy dance floor, holding out a hand expectantly. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

“But, there’s no music?” you raise a brow, yet you place your hand in his much larger ones. Soft, his hands were surprisingly soft. And so warm.

“Did I mention I was a great singer too?” he grins, a small dimple at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer. 

Shit, it was way too hot to be cooped up in a dance studio. Or maybe it was just Satoru’s hand around your waist, making your skin burn through your heavy skirts. They flow around you as he glides you gently across the floor. 

You train your eyes steadily on your feet - partly out of necessity, and partly out of fear of meeting Satoru’s intense gaze.

The only sounds filling the small studio were the squeaks of your boots and Satoru’s soft humming of a nonexistent tune. It was beautiful, his voice. It reminded you of calm summer days. 

“Ah- sorry!” you panic as you step on his toe, only for him to pause his melody and huff out a laugh.

“Step on them as much as you want, m’boots are thick.”

You’re sure he meant this only to bate your embarrassment, but something about his words and the warm endearment in his gaze have your cheeks heating up. You focus on your steps in silence as he guides you patiently, tenderly.

Pride grows in your chest as you start stepping on his boots every six steps instead of two. Satoru seems to have noticed too, “Hey! You’ve improved, m’lady.” he whispers, as if afraid to break the stillness in that humid room as you two continue your silent dance. 

Loud clapping from the doorway makes you two jump apart, shattering the serene bubble you’ve found refuge in. “Brilliant! I thought I’d come across my first hopeless case, yet you’ve worked absolute wonders Mr. Satoru!”

Your escape is quick, you urgently drag Satoru out the door before he can be forcibly recruited as a dance teacher. 

You heave out a sigh of relief at your freedom from the treacherous clutches of the dance studio. Merciless sunlight stinging your face, you begin to make your way through the dusty hustle and bustle of Rustcliffe in the afternoon. 

Now, all you had to do was avoid bumping into your father for the rest of the day and you should be fine!

Speed-walking by Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, you’re confused when you’re faced with a few more drunken stares than usual. Surely your new skirt can’t be that flattering?

With a jolt, you realize you’re still grasping Satoru’s warm hand in his. Dropping it as if it burned, your cheeks heat up at the mirth on his features. “Not that I’m complainin,” he grins, “but warn a guy next time you manhandle him. S’not good for the heart, m’lady.”

Rolling your eyes at his joke, you begin pointing out the things to see as you walk the familiar old roads of Rustcliffe, detailing the town gossip.

It really was not good for his heart, Satoru was sure he’ll drop dead very soon one of these days because of you. 

He couldn’t rip his eyes off of you as you animatedly talked about granny Wei wrestling Mrs. Davidson for her secret brownie recipe. 

Shit, he was really getting in too deep.

Night falls fast, a deep shade of blue. 

Saying your goodbyes to Nanami at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon - at a time you knew your father wouldn’t be around - your heart swells as Satoru excitedly rambles about “Good ol’ Nanamin! What a chip off the old block, we became fast friends y’know?”

You didn’t expect your mission to avoid your father to turn into an impromptu Rustcliffe tour. But watching Satoru’s face light up as you told him silly little stories of your childhood, you wouldn’t have changed it one bit. 

Sent off with a cheery “Come back soon deary!”, you’re exhausted by the time you say all your goodbyes to the people of the town.

“You’re loved, y’know?” Satoru speaks up out of nowhere as you steady yourself behind him on the saddle. 

“Hm?” you ask, fatigued from spending the day walking around town. A large hand caresses your cheek to rest your head against his back, tightening your arms around his waist.

Lightly snapping the reins, he repeats, “You’re loved.” 

You drift on his words gently to sleep, the clip-clop! of the horse matching the deafening beat of your heart against your ribcage. If only you could be like this forever.

SLAM! 

You wake up with a start, only to find yourself…hovering? Surely there must be a valid explanation - you really didn’t feel like doing an exorcism right now.

It takes a while of your nonsense to realize you’re being carried by strong arms supporting your back and legs. 

“S-Satoru?” you ask blearily. 

“Shhh, forgive me, m’lady. Didn’t think that damn door would be so loud.” he responds, bed creaking under his weight as he softly sets you down. 

Smiling down at your incoherent mumbles, he whispers softly “It’s alrigh’, you can rest now. Goodnight m’lady.”

Struggling to rip his gaze from your gracefully sleep-addled one, it’s only the thought of someone in the house catching him in this position that makes him stand up. 

A hand - uncharacteristically swift - grasps his wrist, stopping his tip-toeing to the door. “Satoru…” your groggy call of his name sends shivers down his spine. Hesitatingly following the gentle pull of your hand, he kneels beside your bed.

“Yes, m’lady?” he breathes.

You surge forward, sleep hazing the practical side of your mind. Acting on pure instinct, your soft lips meet his. 

Satoru freezes in surprise as a beat passes. One. Two.

He stays in the same position when you flop back onto your pillow, soft snores filling the otherwise pin-drop silence. His lips burn as he brings up a hand to touch them in disbelief, stifling an euphoric laugh.

You startle awake in the middle of the night, after some questionable dream about Satoru carrying you to the bed and you kissing him.  

Imagine. Ha! 

Settling back into where you were carefully tucked into bed, you snuggle the warm coat at your side. 

Wait. Shit.

---

If either of you remembered what happened that night, neither of you mentioned it. 

Oftentimes, you questioned whether it was a dream. The only thing keeping you from fully believing so being the intensity in Satoru’s stare whenever his eyes briefly flickered to your lips and the hasty retreats whenever it seemed like you would bring up the topic. 

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

In fear of messing up the comfortable camaraderie you two had, you continued this magnetic dance of normalcy. But honestly could you really consider it “normal” if each gaze was charged with something neither of you could describe?

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

You could only imagine the worst.

Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.  Well, probably a bit below heaven, because - ideally - there you’d be his wife and Gege would actually like him. 

It’s alright, even if just for a sleep-hazed second, he was yours. And he didn’t want to hear you apologize for it.

Still riding the euphoria of that brief kiss, he goes about life as usual, sure that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels.

---

“WELCOME ALL TO RUSTCLIFFE ANNUAL HARVEST HOEDOWN! WE GOT HARVEST, WE GOT HORSES, WE GOT SOME HOE- Oh- what? yes, dear that was on my script…” your father’s voice bellows across town from the loudspeaker. 

You breathe in the warm, candy-scented air, fairy lights illuminating the colorful stalls selling everything from candied apples to binoculars (“Spy On Your Neighbors Without Worry!”). 

Place ringing with the bustle and chatter of the town, you think it feels like something out of a picture book.

A warm smile finds its way onto your face, you’ve loved the Harvest Hoedown since you were a kid. Here, you can forget the longing for something more, the rows at home about your looming engagement, and most of all - you can almost forget Satoru.

Ever since that kiss, you’ve found it hard to face him. Sure, the banter and half-joking schemes to murder Naoya are the same. But your heart clenches every time he looks at you with a tender melancholy, losing the words to apologize for taking advantage of his kindness.

“Come come! It’s startin’!” you hear gleefully from your left. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re pulled into a circle of bodies dancing to an upbeat tune. 

Laughter bubbling out of you as you lose yourself in the song, you turn to your right and see…your dance instructor, who is very visibly (and audibly) praying for his feet. Dramatic. You’ve learned a lot recently with Satoru’s help.

Oh, there he is again. For someone that leaves place so swiftly, he sure is set on living permanently in your mind.

Hidden amongst the audience, Satoru cackles at the distress on Mr. Dance Instructor’s face. Little did he know, with a bit of Satoru’s magic you’ve improved - stepping on his toes only once every fifteen steps! 

He was so proud of his girl.

Ah, except you’re not. You’re so much more. And he’s reminded of that every time you averted your eyes from his during dance lessons, the proximity of your bodies doing nothing for how out of reach you felt to him. 

He rips his gaze from you, walking away from the growing crowd. Where was that damn drinks table again?

It’s past twelve as the townsfolk start pairing up for the hoedown couples dancing. You’ve usually sat this one out, not one for the complicated steps nor the intimacy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy your parents waltzing in their own world. How nice it must be. Your supposed asshat of a dance partner was over by the drinks talking with some men, barely looking your way.

Guess the dance lessons were for nothing. Frustrated and slightly tipsy, you move to make your way off the dance floor. 

Suddenly, a large hand blocks your view of the exit. Who the- 

Satoru.

Ears tinged a pretty red, and eyes slightly dazed, he hiccups over the rich music “Would you- dance with me, m’lady?”

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the way his face flushed your favorite delicate pink - but you slide your hand into his warm one, “I’d be honored to, Satoru.” 

A strong arm pulling you flush against his body, faces only inches apart. His hot breath fans you as Satoru murmurs, “Looked s’beautiful tonight. Best dancer in town I’d say.”

“Only cuz’ of you, Satoru.” you chuckle at his genuine tone as he steers you across the dance floor. Feet in perfect sync, the waltz fades into the background as you look into his tired eyes. 

“Nah, tha’s all you, m’lady. I’m nothing much.” he grins morosely. 

Your brows furrow at his words, clearly something was wrong. And this wasn’t the place to talk about it. “Come with me.” you utter, pulling him along with you to a place you knew he’d love. 

Little ol’ Rustcliffe wasn’t called that for nothing. 

The air is tense, the chatter of crickets fill the silence between you two as you guide him to your haven, hand still tightly in his. It’s a steep walk uphill from the outskirts of town, a place you’d stumbled upon during one dashing attempt to escape from this town as a tween.

“Finally here.” you exhale as you reach your destination, fireflies lighting the way. 

“Hah- If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were tryin’ to murder-” Satoru’s voice dies in his throat as he drinks in the view before him. 

The twinkling lights of the entire town of Rustcliffe reflect in his eyes like constellations. Townsfolk barely discernible from this distance, yet the soft jovial music carried over. It was beautiful. 

Satoru looks at you in awe as you lay down on the ground and point upwards, “Tha’s not all, cowboy.”

Quickly getting on the ground beside you - albeit at a safe distance - his mouth gapes wider at the perfect carpet of stars above him. A celestial version of what he saw below. He turns his head to see you bathed in the moonlight. This place was beautiful.

“Satoru, are we okay?‘ you voice out in concern. He’s taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. You cut off his scramble to make a joke, “I’m serious. Please talk to me.”

He can never win against you.

Heaving out a sigh, “Maybe. Who knows. But whatever it is, please don’t apologize for that kiss, let me have it.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, “Let you have it? Satoru, why wouldn’t you have it?” 

“M’lady, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re like fireworks. Captivating and fierce. That kiss was a mistake, and soon enough you’ll find a rich, handsome-”

“I only want you.”

“I’m leaving soon.” he retorts. 

“I only want you.” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I’m leaving m’lady.” he argues.

“No- Satoru-”

“And I’m childish. I’m insecure. I’ll never be able to provide for you the way you deserve.” he plows on, emotion cracking his voice.

“Satoru, I love you.” you breathe out. 

Satoru’s breath catches in his throat, the silence was deafening. “What was that?” he turns, voice quiet with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware, cowboy, but you’re like blue summer skies. And I just so happen to love blue summer skies.” you huff out, finally understanding the reason for his behavior these past few weeks. 

“I don’t expect a huge mansion, or some enormous ranch, or even a cowboy that knows the difference between a lasso and a rattlesnake. I just don’t want anyone else, Satoru.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And…you’re sure? Really sure?”

“Yes.”

Silence punctures your conversation once more, broken only by a loud cackle. You turn in disbelief at his change in demeanor, “All cheered up now, Satoru?”

“Why would you have feelings for me? Was it the tumbleweed story that did it for you?” he gets out through laughs. It was contagious, and soon enough you yourself joined him, clutching your stomach.

In the thoughtful silence that follows, you find yourself inching closer to him until your faces are mere centimeters apart. “Blue summer skies and fireworks don’t go too well together.” he breathes. 

“We’ll make something work out, remember?” you hum. 

Your first kiss with Satoru was a sleep-addled mistake. 

The second was when his lips capture yours as if they were the source of life itself. 

Rolling on top of you, he’s careful to not rest his full weight as his lips don’t leave you, tongue caressing yours. Satoru tastes sweet - like hard candy and your father’s bottle of Baileys. Pulling away a hair's breadth, he whispers against your lips, “Let me be yours?”

“You probably say this to all the girls, hm?” you tease him, as revenge for making you wait so long. He softly bites your lips in retaliation, relishing in your drawn-out whine. “Yes, fine. If only you’ll let me be yours.”

Clearly approving of your answer, he continues his dance with your lips. Barely parting to breathe, as if it hurt to leave you.

And it did. A low groan sounds from the back of his throat as Satoru kisses you with the desperation from these past few weeks. His hands stayed firmly cupping your face, as if scared to move elsewhere. Yours, however, was wandering the expanse of his back, and it was driving him insane. 

“M’lady…” he breathes out at the feeling of your legs wrapping around his hips, a warning. 

You knew where this was going and you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything so bad. “Satoru, I need you.” you mutter, words punctuated by pecks to his swollen lips. 

Maybe that’s the trigger that sets him off. It’s not long before Satoru is kissing you again. Pinning down your arms with one hand, he rolls his hips into yours. You gasp as you feel the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers. 

He was so big.

Your pussy drips with anticipation and fear of what was about to come. 

Satoru thinks he might be getting whiplash, how was it that an hour ago he was moping in his loneliness and now he’s got you underneath him? Silently thanking whoever was up there, he wanders a hand down your body. Fingers trailing teasingly above where you wanted him the most.

“Tell me what you want, m’lady.” he rasps. Now Satoru is sure he’s getting whiplash when you grind your hips up into his hand, whining “Need you- on me.”

Skirts hastily pushed up, Satoru shuffles so his face is right hovering right above your pulsing core. In the cool moonlight, he can see the way you get wetter at each hot breath on your cunt. “Please Satoru.” 

You were not good for his heart. Surging forward so he’s nose-deep in your pussy, Satoru’s tongue flattens against your swollen folds. His eyes roll to the back of his at your taste. You tasted better than the candy at the hoedown.

Your desperate whines for more send blood rushing to his cock, twitching achingly against his trousers. Leisurely dipping between your folds, he watches with blown-out eyes as you grind your hips deeper into his face, keeping a firm grip on his soft locks. Using him.

Shit, if this was your reaction to him teasing you…

Your whimpers of pleasure and lewd squelches of your cunt  fill the night air as he plunges his tongue inside your clenching hole, fucking you at a merciless rhythm. His brows furrow as his tongue dips in and out relentlessly. He sinfully loves the burn of his scalp as you pull his hair to angle him just right. 

Thumb harshly circling your clit, Satoru thinks he loses a bit of his sanity at every moan of his name that leaves your pretty mouth. “You taste s’good. So perfect for me, m’lady.” his voice sends vibrations to your pussy that have you feeling your heartbeat banging in two places.

“Hngh- Satoru, don’ stop!” you mewl as his nose catches on your clit, clamping down on his tongue. He continues his movements, breathing you in so sinfully. Air was overrated - Satoru Gojo, famously daring traveler and devilishly handsome, dies here between your legs. He wouldn’t even mind.

“Cum in my mouth, m’lady. Please.” he begs, voice muffled by your dripping cunt. He locks eyes with your fucked out ones as he pulls you by the thighs impossibly closer to him. He never wanted to part.

The stimulation of his voice in addition to his fingers and tongue becomes too much. “Satoru! Hah-  M’ gonna cum-”

Tears spring to your eyes as you cum all around Satoru’s tongue. He doesn’t let up his harsh abuse of your pulsing pussy, groaning as he laps up your juices - your slick pooling at the corner of his mouth. 

He was so greedy for you. Shit, this is so much better than he’s imagined every night he’s fucked his fist in that lonely room.

As both of you attempt to catch your breaths, the chattering song of crickets and distant music from the Harvest Hoedown fill the air once more. Satoru looks at you with a devious glint in his eyes that has your cunt twitching once more. 

You’d felt his rock-hard length. And you wanted it now.

“Satoru. let me feel you in my mouth, please.” you murmur. Kneeling before him, you look up at him with eager eyes. At his slow nod, you give an experimental squeeze to the large imprint of his cock, thighs rubbing together at Satoru’s drawn-out hiss. 

“Oh, m’lady. You drive me insane.” he groans. 

Cursing the heavy trousers that cowboys wear, you fumble it down his legs. Muscles, creamy thighs come into your view, making your mouth water. 

In the dim lighting, you see the precum drip down Satoru’s flushed cock. The prominent vein down his side glistens prominently. Shit, he’d never fit in your mouth let alone your cunt. But you wanted it so bad.

Satoru’s heavy breaths sound in the still air as your bruised lips inch closer to his throbbing cock. A deep breath, and you spit on his blushing head, saliva dripping down the side of his length and to where you gently grasped his base. 

It was filthy, it was debauched. You absolutely loved it.

Satoru lets out a strangled moan as you flatten your tongue and take his tip into your mouth, sucking gently. He bucks his hips into your mouth as you run your tongue along his sensitive slit “Shit- Sorry, m’lady. You’re just hah- too good.”

Popping off his aching cock, you press kisses to the side of his length. He groans lowly at the vibrations as you speak about something that has been on your mind for a while now, “Satoru, don’t you think we’re past formalities now?”

“Well, I could call you my goddess?” he smiles. “Or my angel? Or-” Satoru chokes on his words as you take him fully into your mouth - partly because you needed him to shut up, and partly because you cunt ached with need.

“Sh-shit. Jus’ like that.” he rasps as you suck him at a dizzying pace. Precum drips down the side of your mouth as you take him in deeper - nose meeting the snowy white hair on his pelvis.

Your mouth burns at the stretch, his hips grinding lightly into your mouth to meet each bob of your head. Your pussy drips once more at how desperate Satoru was.

His mouth drops open in a silent gasp as you move to take his tight balls into your mouth. You admire the dazed look in his darkened eyes. “Oh god- I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum in your mouth, m’lady.” he murmurs, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you continue your ruthless pace.

As soon as your lips are around his cock once more, Satoru comes fast and hard with a gravelly moan. Hot spurts of his seed dribble down the corner of your mouth as you take it all in. 

Ah, this wasn’t what you had planned when you brought him here - but you sure weren’t complaining.

Satoru just about passes out when you stick out your tongue to show you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he gave, cock twitching once more. He needed you in a way that would make a hooker blush. 

Finding his voice, “As much as I’d love to ravish you right here, m’lady, I think you deserve somethin’ a bit more comfortable.” He swats at a mosquito attacking him as you grin devilishly.

---

Gege has never flown across the dry ground of Rustcliffe faster. 

Wind in your hair and Satoru’s arms warmly around your middle, you feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your back - matching your own. You admire his moonlit profile, the light casting an otherworldly glow over his cloud-like hair. You could probably go anywhere if it was by his side. 

You’ve never been happier to see that familiar ol’ ranch.

Navigating your sprawling villa, you find, is close to impossible with a relentless Satoru pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. 

“Satoru…we gotta make it to the bed.” you giggle, drunk off of him rather than the liquor from before. He sighs impatiently, before promptly lifting you off of your feet. His hat and hip holster falling to god-know-where as he runs up the stairs to your bedroom with you in his arms.

The thud of heavy boot echoes throughout the empty house - your parents still at the Harvest Hoedown. It reminds you of the night you first kissed him. As he slams your door shut and pushes you against it, however, you never in your wildest dreams would have thought that it’ll lead to this.

Tongue tangling with Satoru’s, feet still not reaching the ground. You don’t think you’ll make it out of this alive. Nor will Satoru.

Satoru is definitely not making it out alive.

He’s barely stepped a foot into your bedroom before he’s got his hands all over you - groping and teasing every inch of your body he can find. Your legs wrapped around him, he holds you in the air, hands roughly squeezing your ass.

His lips don’t leave yours, tasting himself on your tongue - even as he bunches your skirts around your hips. Exhaling in relief as his hands meet your bare lips, he holds a finger to your pulsing core.

You whimper at the feeling, still sensitive from before. He drinks in your mewls of pain and pleasure, lips curling into a smug smile. “Still sensitive, m’lady? You poor thing. How will you take my cock if yer’ like this?” 

Your groan of impatience turns into a panicked whine as Satoru moves towards the bed, “Maybe we should tuck you in bed for now? Continue this tomorrow?” 

Reading the challenge in his eyes, you immediately free yourself from his hold. His confused gaze soon turns into a surprised one as you push him roughly onto the bed, straddling him after.

“You always do surprise me.” he laughs out between the magnetic kisses you leave on his lips. Buttons fling across the room as you rip his shirt in impatience - fingers too dripping in lust to work through them. You’re sure if the same could be done to your heavy prairie skirt, then it would’ve suffered a similar fate.

You run your hands along his sculpted body greedily, as you’d wanted to since the first time you saw him shirtless. He hisses at the friction and the impatience at wanting to do the same to you, fingers fumbling with your complicated clasps.

After much frustration and curses on whoever invented corsets, you’re finally exposed in front of Satoru.

Shit, he really should call you his goddess. Because in the dim lighting of your bedroom, he thinks he’s in heaven as you sit atop him, bare and needy for him. Fuck Naoya. Fuck any faceless suitable husband. Eyes half-lidded and lips kiss-bitten, you’re like this because of him. 

Grinding his now-bare hips against yours, a low groan rips from his throat at the feeling of your swollen folds spreading against his aching cock. Your dripping slick mixes with his as he continues rutting into you. 

“Ah! Enough teasin’, Satoru- Want you inside me.” you whimper sinfully. 

Your words make Satoru snap. Wordlessly, he sheaths himself inside you with a sigh of relief. Moans leave his throat unrestrained as he bullies his cock deeper and deeper inside your hot cunt. “Fuck. S’tight, your pretty pussy is suckin’ me in so good m’lady.” he hisses out, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Satoru could feel himself losing more and more of his sanity every time your plushy walls clenched down on him as he pulled out to fuck up into with harsh thrusts. It was so animalistic, the way your perfect cunt couldn’t bear to part with him. 

Your slick drips down his length and onto his heavy balls each time he rams into you at a merciless cadence. Soft yelps of his name leave your lips every time his tip kisses your cervix. 

Ah, this time he was actually going to pass out. Your pretty whines, your dripping cunt, the way your tits jiggled so enticingly at each thrust - it was all too much. 

Angling you slightly with his bruising grip on your hips, Satoru smiles with satisfaction at that one spot that makes you convulse on his cock. Abs burning at the pace, he hits it over and over. Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder, moans of his name leaving you against your will. 

You were sure to be absolutely covered in marks tomorrow. 

But that was a problem for later you. Right now, all you could focus on was grinding your hips down to meet Satoru’s thrusts, eager for him to hit that spot even harder. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the painfully good stretch of your snug cunt. So full. 

“K-keep going, Satoru. Don’ stop, please.” Your rickety bed creaks in protest at each relentless thrust, overpowered only by the stinging smacks of his balls against your ass. 

It was so filthy. So debauched. And you absolutely loved it.

As Satoru’s hands sneak down to draw rough circles on your clit, you feel yourself getting closer and closer towards cumming. Leaning down to capture his lips with yours once more, you whisper against his mouth, “Satoru, I’m- Hngh-” 

He connects his sweaty forehead with yours, “Mm. me too. Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up. You want that, m’lady?”

Just the thought of being so full of Satoru sends you over the edge. You cum with a lewd moan of his name, cunt clenching so impossibly tight around his cock. 

“Ah! Shit.” Satoru grits out at the way your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly. Your whimpers as you gush around him sounds like music to his ears. 

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums. A part of his soul parting with him that night. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls white, strained whispers of your name leaving his mouth as if a prayer. As if you were his goddess. 

A feral part of him keeps bucking his hips into you, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper - claiming you as his.

You do the same in your own way - biting down on Satoru’s exposed neck. Hard. His strong arms wrap around you to keep you from moving away, letting you use him as you please. 

Cum drips down your legs, staining your blanket. 

As your highs finally bate, you blink out the haze from your eyes. Looking up at Satoru from where you were snuggled into the crook of his neck, admiring the innocent blush adorning his face and his glossy, bruised lips. Both of you so overstimulated and euphoric.

“Got any travel stories like this?” you chuckle out, half-delirious and exhausted from what just transpired in this room. 

“Not at all.” Satoru breathes out, pulling you closer to him, closing his hazy eyes to the sex-filled air. 

That night, squeezed into your warm single bed, Satoru tells you stories of before his travels. You’re unsure if your parents are home yet, and right now with Satoru in your arms - you don’t care.

You listen as he rambles about growing up in the quaint town of Summer Pass. How he was raised with beautiful parents, a wonderful life. Yet, since the passing of his best friend, he’d taken up what the two had been dreaming of since they were children - wandering the world. 

“I’m afraid, if I stay too long then it always ends up hurtin’.” he whispers into the still night. Caressing his hair, you pull him into your warm embrace. Your heart weighs heavy as the back of your mind pangs with the realization that Satoru will still leave despite this.

Both of you fall asleep reminiscing talks of your childhoods. In your exhausted state, maybe you misheard - but you could’ve sworn by the “I love you, m’lady.” Satoru whispered against your lips right before you closed your eyes. 

Limbs intertwined till you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts, you have the most peaceful sleep in a long time.

You’re unsure when Satoru snuck out of your room. The only evidence of last night being the washcloth on your bedside table that he’d tenderly cleaned you up with, and a singular button from his shirt at the foot of your bed. 

Cheeks heating once you catch sight of it, you make your way down to breakfast in your most well-covered dress. 

What you certainly didn’t expect was to be interrogated by your mother. “So…” she begins. ”When did you come home, darling? We didn’t see you at the hoedown after midnight.”

Ah, suddenly these scrambled eggs just did not want to go down your throat. “Jus’...went to see somethin’ interesting.” you respond, eyes meeting with Satoru’s amused ones across the table as he subtly plays footsies with you underneath.

---

Sneaking around with a secret cowboy boyfriend doesn’t just happen in books, you realize. It’s a lot easier since Naoya is around a lot more often than usual. The only thing he might be good for may be keeping your parents entertained…

Since then, Satoru, you conclude, really does not like L-words: namely, Love and Leaving.

Despite his breathless confession that night, Satoru hasn’t said anything more about his feelings towards you - nor when he’ll be leaving. 

It’s okay, you have time. You console yourself, as you lay in bed with him after he’d snuck into your room as per usual, pulling his warm presence closer to yours. But Satoru’s inevitable departure looms closer and closer like a dark cloud above your head. 

It’s only two months after that night, when you’ve retreated from another engagement conversation you shut down, that Satoru brings it up. Hands intertwined and watching the sunset on top of your father’s barn, he utters in an uncharacteristically grave tone “I planned to leave next week, m’lady.” 

Your heart pricks at his words. You knew this was coming. 

Clenching your fists in self-assurance, your words tumble out.

“Let me come with you.”

“Let me stay with you.”

The nostalgic lullaby of the world around you is deafening as you and Satoru reel back in synchronized surprise. 

“You- stay?”

“Wait- huh?”

Brow raised, you gesture at him to continue. “I just- I thought maybe I could stay here. Build a life with you, if you’d like, m’lady.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise. Satoru - who smiles brightest when talking of his tales of travel - was offering to settle down?

“W-what? Satoru, why would you? You love traveling.” you sputter out in disbelief. His smile grows, as does the warmth in his eyes. “I’ve found something I love a lot more.” he murmurs, with a playful bite to the crook of your neck.

You crack a smile at his sincerity, though you shake your head in disagreement. “You should be out there explorin’ the world, Satoru. And…I want to be right by your side.”

“I thought you loved this place?”

“I do.” you sigh. “But I feel so trapped.”

Resting your head on Satoru’s shoulders, you admit how dear Rustcliffe is to you - although oftentimes you try to deny it - and how you want to leave just as much. 

The stars wink at you two mischievously by the time you’re done, a twinkle that matches the look in Satoru’s eyes as he announces, “So~ We run away together in a blaze of glory. End scene, credits roll, Gege win’s best actor.”

“Exactly. Although I prefer the term unannounced relocation.” you hum, relishing in his bark of laughter. “Now, c’mon, cowboy. We gotta get up early for that damn election rally tomorrow.”

Heading back home as inconspicuous as possible is always tedious. In addition to praying away your swollen lips, you head in innocently at different times. 

Hurriedly greeting your housekeeper, you attempt to make a swift escape to your room. Only to be blocked by…Naoya?

“We meet again, sweetcheeks.” he smiles, stepping closer towards you. Determined to stand your ground, you stare menacingly up at him. “Hello, my apologies for being so unavailable to meet these days. Business, y’know.” your voice steady.

“Ah, yes. I know.” he hums dangerously. Looming closer to your face, you smell the tobacco on his breath as he mutters, “It’s no matter, your father and I have gone through with our conversations. You and I will announce our engagement tomorrow at your father’s rally. That is final.”

“I’ve talked with you about this, I’ve screamed at you about this. I will not marry you no matter what my father nor anyone else says.” you grit out through clenched teeth. 

“Why? Got anyone in mind? Think it’ll be anyone else your father approves of?” he raises a brow, delicately raising the neckline of where your dress had dripped down - where Satoru had nipped before.

He knows.

“Not at all.” you smile sweetly. Not waiting for a response, you run upstairs. Seems like running away in a blaze of glory might have to hurry up.

Twisting and turning the entire night, you don’t get a wink of sleep, mind a whirlwind of how you’d get Satoru and run away before the announcement.

It was terrifying.

---

Parading around town in an itchy engagement dress under the boiling sun on your father’s collection of purebred Italian horses (+ Gege) wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend an ideal morning. But it wasn’t the worst.

You snuck glances at Satoru riding in front of you, looking devastatingly handsome as ever. 

Naoya had been terrifyingly quiet all morning. You could feel his penetrating stare on you, scrutinizing every movement and every conversation. He rides beside you - your soon-to-be husband.

As the procession ends at your father’s podium, where he proudly takes a stand. As he plows on with an inspirational speech that has the audience in cheers, your mind runs a mile a minute as you slip away from the stage. Even in your gauzy white dress, it’s easy to get lost in the animated crowds of Rustcliffe - which you and Satoru use to your advantage.

This was happening. You were going to finally leave. 

Heart clenching at the sight of your jovial parents onstage, you take a long look before turning away. It’s okay, it’s alright. This is something you’ve been wanting for years. 

Brain whirring at the letters you’d send them on your travels, you miss the harsh gaze following you. 

“Satoru!” you gasp at the blur of white and black that embraces you as soon as you step foot into Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon. The bar, empty for the first time in years since your father’s last rally, was your hastily chosen place of refuge.

Nanami, who wasn’t initially too keen on being involved, had sympathized once he saw the look on your face. “Alright, but if anyone asks - you two were never here. Not too good for business, y’know.” he’d stated, permitting you two to do whatever you please. 

Although, it probably was worth noting that he’d almost taken it back once Satoru tackled him into a hug with a joyful squeal of “Nanamiiiin~!”

“C’mon now. I’ve got our bags saddled on Gege. We’ll leave immediately.” Satoru voices, snapping you out of your reminiscing. Rushing to give Nanami a farewell hug, your heart lurches as he whispers “Goodbye. Promise you’ll write.” 

This was really happening.

Nodding in promise, you finally turn to the open door and step into the dusty sunlight. Satoru leads you to where Gege is impatiently waiting for your quick getaway. You could almost laugh at the sheer exhilaration coursing through your veins. 

You were going to get out.

You grip onto Satoru’s shoulder for support as he circles his arms around you to lift you onto the seat, slightly shaking at the intoxicating adrenaline. 

You were finally going to be free. 

“Leavin’ so soon, sweetcheeks?” a chilling voice slices through the air. One that you know way too well. Your heart stops, as does Satoru’s hands in midair - before he sets you down slowly.

Body moving against your will, you turn to the deceivingly sweet voice behind you. Naoya.

A cold sweat breaks out across Satoru’s forehead. 

He stares down Naoya’s hand hovering over the holster at his hip. “I knew there was something off about you, barn boy. You think I’d be outmatched by someone like you?” he hisses, resentment poisoning every word.

Satoru does what he does arguably the best, “Oh c’mon asshat, don’t be so melodramatic. We’re just going on a little adventure.” he smirks.

“Don’t I know of these adventures.” Naoya spits out. 

Agonizingly slow, Naoya draws his gun. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as the three of you stand frozen, searing sun casting eerie shadows across the desolate road. 

BANG!

Naoya’s first shot tears through the deafening silence. Narrowly missing the bullet, Gege whinnies in fear before running off to safety. Satoru skillfully maneuvers you two into the shadowy alleyway beside Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon.

In the blink of an eye, he presses you close to the dust-bitten wall as he pulls out his gun. “Stay here.” he gasps out.  

With lightning speed, Satoru retaliates - firing back-to-back shots at Naoya with a speed and precision that has him scrambling for cover behind a barrel. 

The gunfire echoes throughout the quiet town, these familiar streets becoming a battleground. Despite both parties shooting from their impromptu covers, neither are invincible. 

A stray bullet harshly grazes his arm, blood painting the ground a deep crimson. Fuck, this really burned like a motherfucker. But he was still alive - he still had to protect you. 

The standoff intensifies, stray bullets flying off in every direction. They splinter holes through the rustic shop banners. You could only be thankful that the town was at the rally, confident you’d never forgive yourself if anyone died on this road today.

Satoru fires off shots with uncanny accuracy, years of defending himself on the road coming in handy. Yet, he was losing blood. So much blood. He realizes with a jolt that his vision was slowly blurring. 

Breaths labored and slumping forward against the wall, he aims one last shot at Naoya. Fuck. Shit. Dear lord, if you’re up there, please don’t let my love die here. 

A finger pulls the trigger. The bullet flies through the air as if in slow-motion. 

It hits metal.

Naoya’s gun flies through the air, clattering onto the sun-scorched ground as he is finally disarmed. The beginnings of a grin curl Satoru’s lips before he heaves out a heavy sigh. Eyes closing and body collapsing forward, the last thing ringing in his ears being your harrowed scream.

“No no no no. Satoru please.” sobs wreck your throat as your hands frantically check for Satoru’s pulse. In your panicked state of mind, you barely register the crunch of gravel nearing towards you two. 

“Shit. The fuck is it that you even want?” that dreaded voice sounds ominously in your ears. “To travel? I can fuckin’ take you places.” 

Sagging on the saloon wall for support, Naoya clutches his bleeding side as he observes the two of you. In an instant, you’re in front of Satoru’s body protectively, hand steady on his discarded gun pointed right at Naoya’s head. 

“Leave, before I shoot your brains out..” you threaten, voice deceptively steady.

“I thought I could be the one to break you - the mayor’s wildchild daughter. But why the fuck do you put yourself through this?” he continues, voice strained with anger. 

“Because he is the one I want. I refuse your proposal, and I am not sorry for it. Now leave.” 

You were standing up now, the cool metal of the barrel pressed firmly to his forehead. Finger hovering above the trigger.

“I believe the lady said to leave.” Nanami’s voice startles you both. His normally stoic face was etched with anger. 

Despite his injuries, Naoya manages to glare at Nanami. But, realizing the odds are against him, he backs away, but not before venomously promising “This ain’t over, sweetcheeks.”

He leaves a bloody trail as he limps out of sight.

“Told you this wasn’t good for business.” Nanami sighs at the chaos. With Nanami’s help, you carry Satoru inside - body moving on instinct as your mind races to process everything that happened. 

The empty bar now serves as an improvised hospital. Laying Satoru down on a table that acts as a makeshift bed, propping his feet up in a desperate attempt to recirculate his blood. You desperately tear the intricate of your engagement dress into bandages, hurriedly wrapping it around his injured arm.

The atmosphere is taut, air once thick with the stench of alcohol now reeking of blood and the dusty antiseptic Nanami had brought to you from the very back of his shelves. The methodic ticking of the bar clock sounds like gunshots to your ears.

His reassuring presence is probably what keeps you sane as you stare unmovingly at your hands, stained a dark red from the blood seeping through Satoru’s clothes. 

You must have been sitting there for hours. Maybe even days. Or it might have even been just a few minutes.

All you know is a flash of blue, and you’re surging forward, heart racing. “Satoru?! Satoru! Please say something.” you cry out, tears streaming down your face once more. Nanami quietly makes his exit to the back, leaving the two lovers to their privacy.

“Satoru.” you breathe out, relief flooding your body and a smile forcing its way onto your face as Satoru’s half-lidded eyes meet your worried ones. 

“M’lady.” he whispers weakly. His uninjured arm shakily cups your cheek, and you lean into his warm touch. “I would never have forgiven myself if I left you alone, m’lady.” he rasps, eyes boring into yours. “Couldn’t have fought off the tumbleweeds yourself.”

You let out a watery laugh. There he is, the man you love.

“I love you, Satoru.” you speak in a hushed tone, as if anything louder will throw you back into your nightmare. His smile grows, blue summer eyes flooding with silent tears. 

“I love you, too. So, so much. Wherever you go s’ where I belong, my love.” he utters words meant for you - and only you. 

Your heart swells at the indescribable emotion on his face. “Then, rest well. We have to make our getaway in a blaze of glory, remember?” 

It wasn’t a blaze of glory, more like a teary trail of apologies and thanks as you embrace Nanami farewell - for the second time today. He hugs Satoru too, but only begrudgingly after he bemoans about being on the brink of death any second now. 

You step outside once more, hands shaky at what awaits you. 

In the distance, you hear a frantic call of your name. You turn, only to have your parents barreling emotionally into you. 

Word seems to have spread around town about what had happened, and your parents were first to come to you - your father running off midspeech. 

Through your hurried stream of tears and recollections of what happened, you managed to bawl out “I-I’m so-”

Words which are quickly hushed by your equally emotional parents. “Please don’ apologize.” your mother soothes.

“If anything, I should. I’m so sorry for tryin’ to coop you up here, my dear. I was a scared, insolent man. S’hard to not see you as my little girl, I hope you can forgive me, my darling.” your father sighs shakily. He looks a lot older than you remember him.

Grabbing both your parents into a tight embrace, you whisper out the words “I love you, and I promise to write.” 

With a final hug goodbye from your parents - to both you and Satoru, you take a seat in front of him on the now-calm Gege. 

“Ready m’lady?” you send a teasing glance at Satoru, who positively swoons overdramatically.

“Oh yes, Mr. Brave n’ Handsome cowboy.” he responds in a theatrically high falsetto. “Travelin’ the world won’t be all sunshines and rainbows, y’know? If you want a way out now then jus’ say the word.” he warns in his normal voice.

“Trynna get rid of me already, cowboy?” you raise a brow playfully. He wraps his arms securely around your waist. “Just sayin’, wouldn’t want you to regret a single thing.” he murmurs softly.

“I won’t. As long as we win against those tumbleweeds, right?”

Huffing out a laugh, “Can’t promise ya that, my love. You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me.”

The snap of reins. A last look at your waving parents, and your little town of Rustcliffe. You ride into the horizon with your white dress billowing behind you - on what you and Satoru would later consider blazing glory. 

---

“Didya hear about the mayor’s daughter? Last I heard, she was kidnapped by a rogue cowboy a couple years back, snatched her straight off her feet on her wedding day!”

“Hogwash! I heard she went quite willingly - the boy was quite a looker, you see. Stabbed her fiancé in his sleep before riding off into the sunset!”

Nanami stifles a laugh at the scandalized gasps echoing around the table as the old drunkards run the gossip mill. 

In a subtle motion, he discreetly tucks away a photograph, its back adorned with enthusiastic handwriting and a…hoofprint? 

Taj Mahal sprawling in the backdrop, two identical heads of white hair grin mischievously in the photo. 

Yet, yours takes center stage.

A/N. Did this in two days, anything is possible kids (I need to lie down). Reblogs are so so so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nanaslutt]

jjk characters finding out you got injured

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, yuta, megumi, yuuji, higuruma, uraume, shoko

ʚ cont: angst (the boys are traumatized), crack, fluff

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ