Currently into JJK, KNY, BSD, CSM, Sousou no Frieren, Kaiju No. 8, and SpyxFamily, WHA, but my void is not exclusive.
I write a bit for my own amusement, so this is mostly for my reference, but please feel free to take a look <3
Bits of stories
Satoru Gojo:
koi no yokan
one, two, three, four, five, six
Pay it no mind
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part XIV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII, Part XXIV, Part XXV, Part XXVI, Part XXVII, Part XXVIII, Part XXIX, Part XXX
New Year drabble
Other things I wrote on a whim?
Untitled drabble (no happy ending)
emophilia
Almost the one
Part I, Part II
Headcannons
Satoru Gojo:
ObsessedSatoru (in the stalkerish way) and there is a part II and part III
In the end, it's still you
Another brimhat Coco drawing! This time a bit more bittersweet? I imagine even if she becomes a brimhat, the same kind Coco would still be in there, maybe resurfacing when she sees her old friends again..
also excited to see her in the season 2 preview!
In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).
Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. For this part, hospital setting, mentions of coma, life support, and emotional distress.
Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII, Part XXIV, Part XXV, Part XXVI, Part XXVII, Part XXVIII, Part XXIX
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Ijichi, used to the gore that came with the years in the sorcery field, was able to maintain an unperturbed semblance as he observed the scene before him. Corpses, or parts at least, of both curses and humans, the latter probably brought by the former, scattered among the ruins of what had been a small dental clinic in better days, and in the center of all this destruction was standing no other than Gojo Satoru, barely breaking a sweat.
Ijichi suspected that any exhaustion Gojo may be feeling had come from how hard he had gone at those curses despite them being not even close to match the strength of a special grade sorcerer.
Gojo, well-known for being effective in battle, was not one to toy too much with lower-grade curses: they just would not pick his interest. However, this was something he had been doing for the last few weeks; taking on more work than necessary, attacking curses as if he had something personal against them, annihilating them and the places where they hid as if trying to make some kind of statement.
Ijichi knew what that really meant. He was frustrated.
After your incident, Gojo had remained by your hospital bed for days in wait, but when days turned into weeks, he had moved on to the next stage of grief: anger.
Ijichi’s steps on the debris made Gojo turn in his direction, although he was sure the sorcerer must have felt his presence sooner,
“Any news?” Gojo asked flatly.
After the higher-ups had denied any participation or having any knowledge of what appeared to have been a direct attack to you, Gojo had asked Ijichi to dig deeper, which he had, but so far, his findings had not surpassed those of Ieiri’s.
In fact, the more he inquired, the less certain he was.
When the news of your condition had reached the school, few could believe a semi-first-grade had been injured in such unfortunate, and rather mundane, circumstances. Fellow faculty members limited themselves to send flowers or sign the get-better-soon card your students were bringing to your hospital.
However, when it was filtered the attacker had also been a sorcerer, those who loved gossip started gossiping.
What kind of relationship could you and that other sorcerer have? Had it been a passion crime? If so, weren’t you and Gojo together? Everyone had assumed so but you two had not been seen together in a while. So, where was Gojo when you were attacked? Was everyone positively certain it had not been him the one who…?
No. Ijichi refused to believe such a thing. Only the most unoccupied minds, who has never seen you and Gojo up close could entertain the possibility of him actually hurting you.
“I stopped by the hospital this morning. No news there,” the assistant stated.
Ijichi wondered if Gojo’s eyes reflected any disappointment under his blindfold in contrast to the composed front he had been putting up, but he could not tell.
“And about the investigation?”
“The police don’t have a suspect yet, but…” Ijichi pulled a small notebook from his pocket and opened it. He hesitated before ripping the piece of paper off and handing it to Gojo. “The girl who saw him gave a description that matches a sorcerer who retired a while ago, but, he’s deceased according to our records.”
Gojo looked at the piece of paper and then lifted his blindfold as if to make sure he had read the characters correctly. His face showed no trace of emotion.
“Onoda Asahi” Gojo read out before folding the paper and putting it in his pocket in eerie calm. “Dead on paper doesn't always mean gone.”
His voice was strangely calm. The kind of calm that makes you want to run away.
What Gojo would do with that information Ijichi did not want to know, but he could not shake the feeling of having just sealed the fate of that man.
***
“Should we get married?”
Your eyes stopped reading the form your were filling as you slowly turned to Satoru.
Blue eyes covered by dark shades met yours. For a second, you wondered if his sunglasses were new. Satoru had a decent collection of them, but each new pair he added seemed to be darker than the last, as if his purpose was to stop seeing at all, and now you could barely meet his eyes despite the closeness.
“What?” he asked.
“What?” you echoed.
He shrugged and looked at the paperwork you two were completing, the form in his hand and the loose signed pages each of you had neatly placed on the table in front of you. It was all part of the formalities for officially becoming teachers at the school you had once graduated from. The contracts, confidentiality agreements, and… the insurance papers.
“I mean,” he continued, “if I become unable to make my own decisions regarding health matters, not that I see that happening,” he huffed “and I must appoint someone who…” his eyes drifted to the form to quote from it directly, “...‘understands the nature of my profession’, I don’t think I have anyone. If I had a spouse, I guess I would put their name, but I don’t. So can I put your name?”
You hummed, being in a similar position. Your mother was not an option, but you could appoint your father, however, he did not live in Tokyo. No relative of yours did. Satoru was the closest you had to family, but even if you could put his name there…
“Would that be okay?” he looked at you, pen raised and ready to note down.
“Maybe…” you answered, not really sure. You were barely nearing twenty, and it was the first time a job was requiring you to complete so much paperwork. What would happen to you if something unfortunate occurred while on the job? If you became unable to make your own choices, you trusted Gojo to look out for your wellbeing, and he seemed to trust you too, but at the end, even if he felt like family, you were just friends.
You placed his had over his before he could write down your name, “Maybe we should ask someone. They may have rules as naming just family or doctors. We should wait, right?”
You did not see it that time, could not have seen it, the way Satoru’s gaze had dropped to your hand over his before he showed you that easy smile of his and said, “Sure, let’s wait.”
***
Gojo let himself fall onto the couch of his apartment, blindfold hanging loosely from his fingers as he extended his arms in an attempt to relax.
Yeah, as if he could.
Between missions, teaching and the constant nagging of the higher-ups, he was never truly at ease; he could not allow himself to be, except when he was with you. It was not just those stolen nights when neither of you was on a mission or catching up with work, or those brief, but oh so necessary, escapades to go buy something sweet to eat together, but also your rounds together in the school in the morning, the ten-minute break at the teachers’ room, your reassuring smile during meetings.
To Satoru, your presence was stabilizing. Now that you were on your fifth week unconscious, he was starting to lose his gravity.
He knew he was not the only one. He had seen the way Shoko stared at your vitals on the monitor whenever she had a chance to visit your room. A couple times he had caught her grabbing your wrist and pressing it to feel your pulse, as if she was trying to make sure it matched what the screen said. Then she would pronounce the same words Satoru had come to hate during the last month: “They are stable.”
That was what all nurses and doctors said, and it basically meant you were not deteriorating rapidly or not in a way they could perceive, but it also meant you were not really getting better either.
He sighed and got up, leaving his apartment to trace the now too familiar path to the hospital.
***
Ieiri had taken a five-minute break (that should have ended ten minutes ago) with the excuse that she needed caffeine. Then she had stopped by your room, looked at your chart, and checked your vitals. Something she had been trying not to do every time she visited you as she knew the look of a concerned doctor could make everyone else panic.
That was why Dr. Ieiri kept a calm and composed exterior most of the time. Her presence was comforting to her patients because she showed sign of concern, but in your case, she could not help but think her concern was justified. Nor sorcery nor science could explain why you had not woken up, and, after your father’s visit earlier, she felt as if both of you were running out of time.
You should have told me, [name].
A professor had once compared this state as that of a mechanical doll. Say, it broke, you put it apart and put it back together. All pieces are where they should be, so why won’t the gears turn? The longer a person remains unconscious, the less likely they are to ever wake up. Gears that don’t turn rust. Simple as that.
That thought was interrupted by the white-haired man who entered without knocking the door.
“Gojo,” Ieiri acknowledged him and sipped her coffee. “You don’t knock,” she pointed out, eyes lowering briefly to the small bouquet he was holding. Peonies. Your favorites.
Gojo greeted her with a nod and walked past her, placing the flowers in the vase that had been left by the window. He assumed the bouquet he had brought last week had wilted and been thrown away. “How are they?” he asked, taking a seat by your bed.
Ieiri knew he had become too used to that seat over the last few weeks, and while he would only look at you from a polite distance if anyone else was in the room, she had once caught a glimpse of Gojo holding your hand when it was just the two of you in the room. Most days he would be silent by your bed, but that time she could have sworn she saw his lips moving. If you could hear him she did not know.
“No changes,” she spoke lowly, her gaze running over your form. She wondered if Gojo’s eyes could see anything she could not; if maybe, the reason why he visited so often and kept bringing fresh flowers each week, was because he was sure you would wake up any second. “Gojo, do you think…”
But she did not dare finish that question, because when she looked at her friend, she realized the whole situation was also taking a toll on him. She had seen him keep up the act with the students, assuring them you were strong and should be back any day, but he had not shown her a real smile in a while. Despite knowing the kind of life the strongest sorcerer led, Ieiri had never seen him this tired.
Asking him if he thought you would wake up felt, in some way, insensitive. Maybe because she did not want to doubt it herself.
Gojo turned his head slightly to look at her, waiting for the end of the question.
“Nothing... I was thinking of asking the nurse to increase physical therapy. We don’t want them to lose muscle.” She observed your arms. You were not deteriorating as quickly as a non-sorcerer would, but it was actually not a bad idea.
Gojo remained silent and observed you for a moment. Ieiri knew that meant something was on his mindm and gave him a moment to gather his thoughts, but she also felt the need to run away before her tongue slipped and she asked Gojo the question that had been on her head since Mr. [your father's last name] left.
“When they wake up, will they still be themselves?” Gojo asked.
She did not look at him but at you. Will you? Were you going to wake up?
Shoko took a deep breath before asking what she was gonna ask, bracing herself for whatever the answer might be.
“Gojo, did [name] ever told you what their wishes were regarding being kept on liife support?”
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Note: I had this sitting on my drafts for the longest time, and still didn't proofread (enough), but I will. Sigh...I know I had a taglist somewhere but it's been a while since I last updated. Might add it if I find it.
I'm re-reading some chaps of the manga and I can't stress enough what a big fan of Narumi I am, but feel like the anime doesn't make him enough justice. Is it just me? I mean, look at him:
ObsessedSatoru who has been cloud nine ever since you started visiting each other's homes more frequently, as friends of course, because that is what you are, right? Movie night and takeout is all very friendly.
ObsessedSatoru who can't seem to focus on the movie playing in front of him because you fell asleep and your head is now resting on his shoulder. He did not notice when you shifted closer and fell asleep on him, but he is not exactly bothered by it.
ObsessedSatoru who just not bothered by your proximity. He's ecstatic and, probably, a bit overwhelmed by the many things he's noticing now, like the weight of your head and how nice it feels to have it on his shoulder, the warmth that radiates from your body and the softness of your breath; he can smell your shampoo and the faint trace of perfume that still sticks to you after a long day at work, and instead of watching the movie, his eyes are fixed on the astray strands of hair falling over your face, which he feels very much tempted to accommodate behind your pretty ear.
ObsessedSatoru who stays as still as he can. Part of him does not want to wake you up. Part of him is battling this sudden urge to pull you closer and hold you in his arms while you sleep. Would you wake up if he did? Would you be mad?
ObsessedSatoru who observeshow peaceful you look. He's actually enjoying this. He likes looking at you but will normally try not to stare too much becaus ehe knows it could unsettle you. But if you can't see him staring, it can't make you uncomfortable, right? After all, he means no harm, he is just admiring how beautiful another human being can be, how lovely a set of eyes, eyebrows, a nose and lips can be.
ObsessedSatoru who maybe should not have followed the train of thought that led him to your lips and to wondering what it would feel like to touch them, because now he's imagining how it would be to trace your lower lip with his thumb, feeling them against his cheek, against his own lips...
ObsessedSatoru who forces himself to look away and focus on the screen in front of him. He can't be actually thinking of those things. You're his friend, a soft and pure being he's had the pleasure of knowing and protecting although unbeknownst to you, and obviously you trust him enough to fall asleep by his side.
ObsessedSatoru who pretends he did not spend the last half an hour staring at you, letting his mind wonder, and then scolding himself for it when you wake up and apologize for falling asleep on him.
"Don't worry," he says, "you did not miss much of the movie."
Not that he would know. He wasn't watching it either.
ObsessedSatoru who smiles when you say you'll try to stay conscious the next time, and he won't say it aloud, but he wouldn't mind if you didn't. Just the promise of having you around is enough to lift his mood any day now.
"Sure." He gives you an easy smile as you both stand to walk to your front door. "How about next Friday?"
ObsessedSatoru whose smile falters when you tell him you are not free next Friday because you have a date, but you can do another movie night the week after the next.
ObsessedSatoru who is not sure he heard that right. He is hoping he did not. A date? WIth who? He's pretty sure he has mentally catalogued all your friends, coworkers and neighbors, and not of them appeared potential suitors. Not that he had been trying to rule out your options. It was just an observation made in your best interest.
ObsessedSatoru who pretends he's not eager to know when you say you'll tell him about it later. You're tired and want to go to bed. He understands and says no more, bidding you goodnight with a smile on his face.
ObsessedSatoru whose smile drops the second you close the door and he is left in the hallway. The warmth he had felt in his chest while you drooled on his shoulder inadvertently turning into a fire he is not sure how to put out.
"For us twins, that rule doesn't always apply. After all, curse techniques treat identical twins as one individual. Get it? You are me... And I am you."
