dying on the battle field and gojo dropped everything to carry you off. using limitless to cover both of you, keeping anything from touching your corpse that he carries in his arms, and he doesn't stop, he ignores everything around him until he can get you to a safe place.
• warnings.: implied character death, jjk manga spoilers, Gojo being a simp
• a/n.: This is the first time I’ve written anything and it’s just me hurting myself. Enjoy.
Special thanks to @yuujispinkhair for the inspiration and to @cellophanes-princess and @ghostbeam for enduring my rambling about this for days, I owe you one.
During balmy summer nights, they often used to sneak out to go stargazing on one of the hills surrounding Jujutsu Tech.
They would make up new constellations only the two of them knew the names of, planning their futures while listening to the cicadas until they’d both fall asleep together under the moonlit sky.
Just like that one day of august, 10 years ago.
“One.”
They stumbled towards their desks half an hour late, giggling as they dropped their backpacks on the floor. Suguru pressed his lips together to a thin line, but Satoru still noticed the suppressed laughter in his eyes.
There was a blade of grass stuck in his disheveled raven hair, a few strands stuck on his sweaty forehead from their run here. The usually neatly tied bun was hanging low and the hair elastic almost fell out. They didn’t even have time to change their uniforms that morning, damp dirty patches were scattered all over Suguru’s back from the morning dew soaking the ground they slept on.
He really was the most beautiful hobgoblin Satoru has ever seen and it made his stomach turn.
“Stop dreaming and sit down already, and at least wash your damn face next time before you come to my lecture!” His mentor snapped his fingers in front of Satoru’s face and his classmates bit their tongues.
Yeah, he probably didn’t look any better than his friend who was now grinning at him, wiping his own left cheek with his pointer to indicate the dirt on Satoru’s.
Yaga made his way back to the blackboard while explaining something about the importance of putting up a curtain when fighting curses, but Satoru didn’t really listen. He pulled his sleeve over the heel of his hand and mirrored Suguru’s wiping until the other nodded and stuck his tongue out at him.
Leaning back in his chair, he undid his hair tie and combed through the unruly locks falling over his shoulders with his fingers — hissing and scrunching his nose when they got tangled in the ring he wore.
Mesmerized, Satoru watched his calloused hands as he pulled his hair into a tight bun again with quick, skilled movements.
Oh, the things he would do, just to see Getou with his hair down one more time.
“Two.”
The morning lecture stretched like chewing gum and Satoru swore if he could blow up the clock on the wall by staring at it long enough he would have done it.
Who even needed to know about curse theory?
Why couldn’t they just fight them and find out for themselves? Would have been far less tiring this way.
He yawned, shoved his hands into his pockets and spread his long legs under the desk, kicking the empty chair in front of him in the process. Trying to keep himself from passing out right then and there, he threw the lighter in his pocket at the woman sitting to his right.
Shoko chewed on the back of her pen as she always did when she couldn’t get her smoking break every hour, mouthing a silent „Thank you“. She picked up the bright pink lighter and stuck it into her own pocket. Oh, wonderful.
Not only did the failed attack lose him Suguru’s lighter, it also earned him an annoyed glance and a raised eyebrow from his Professor.
He straightened his back, put on the most innocent smile he could manage and cleared his throat, only to slump right back down in his chair as soon as Yaga turned his back on him.
He glanced over to his left, where Suguru was doodling something on his papers absentmindedly. Peeking over the rim of his sunglasses, he leaned over to get a closer look, and his eyes widened at the realization.
Satoru recognized that pattern.
They had made this constellation up almost a year ago, when he rested his tired head on his friend’s shoulder after they fought a special grade curse and it got a bit rougher than expected. They had been covered in blood, every bone in their bodies aching, but the silence under the curtain and the warmth Suguru’s body provided had been so comforting.
It’s been his favorite one ever since.
The fact that Suguru seemed to have memorized it so much that his hands decided to draw it unintentionally made Satoru’s heart clench. He suppressed a sigh and quickly pushed his sunglasses back up, he was sure he looked like a lovesick puppy and it would only have gotten him teasing comments if anyone noticed.
“Three.”
“This is why you still look like a twig. You need to eat some real food or else I’ll end up being the strongest one alone.”
His friend took out his headphones and watched him unwrap another one of the strawberry candies he bought for him at the Konbini, after he came back from his last mission in Shinjuku. He could have easily went there on his own to buy as many sweets as he wanted, but he’d rather cherish the small bags he secretly put into the pocket of his uniform every once in a while.
“But you’re only having a cigarette for lunch,” Satoru mewled in response.
He found himself shamelessly staring at his exposed neck as Suguru laid his head back to blow the pale blue smoke into the sky, mentally patting his own back for wearing the big round sunglasses that day.
“Well, do I look like a twig to you?”
His breath hitched when he noticed the smug look his friend threw at him through half lidded eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke.
Satoru swallowed. He knew Suguru was well built, broad shoulders and toned thighs hidden under his loose school uniform.
He had seen his body exposed quite a few times after they took out higher grade curses, when he helped him bandage the wounds on his back he couldn’t reach by himself, always wondering why he refused to let Shoko do it.
She’s always been far better at nursing injuries than he would ever be, but he was glad Suguru trusted him with the task — though the last time was months ago at this point.
The constant training and hard workouts paid off at last.
When he realized he was still staring straight at the man in front of him, mouth gaping open, he felt the heat rise from his chest to his cheeks.
Suguru took another drag before flicking the bud in the general direction of the trash can, missing it by at least two feet. “Mmh, that’s what I thought,” he laughed, stroking back the stubborn strand of hair that fell in front of his eye.
“I’ll bring you some sandwiches next time.”
The strawberry candies have lost all their taste since then.
“Four.”
There it was, the triple knock on the wall to Satoru’s room, his sign to grab his backpack and shoes to meet his best friend in the hallway. It has been like a ritual, something so reliable he could set his clock on it. Still, he found himself getting antsy, pacing around his room like a panther behind bars and trying to distract himself somehow every evening, waiting for the time to pass.
Suguru gave him a coy smile, still gripping the doorknob to his own room so as to not make a sound while closing it. “Got everything?”
He grinned back at him, pointing at his too small backpack filled to the brim with sweets and his books for the next day before readjusting his shades.
The back haired man slowly pulled the door shut, eyebrows knit together when the lock clacked.
Satoru started following him towards the common room.
He wore the same washed out grey shirt he had when they first started attending Jujutsu Tech, only that now it hat gotten a little tight across his chest and shoulders and hugged his lean, but now far more muscular arms. Still looked good on him in combination with those black, low hanging sweatpants in Satoru’s opinion, even though he had to admit that he was a bit biased when it came to Suguru’s looks. Besides, his sense of fashion was never something he took much pride in.
He heard a loud creak and froze. “What the — Shit!” Suguru swirled around, both of them staring in shock at the door next to them.
Those damn rotten planks! With the amount of money the higher-ups made, you’d think they’d at least keep the school intact.
They held their breaths. Satoru could make out an annoyed sigh, followed by the tapping of bare feet on the floor inside of their mentor’s room.
Wasting no time, Suguru grabbed him by the collar and pulled him around the next corner, shushing at him while shoving him against the wall. He balled his right hand to a fist right next to his head and Satoru could see the prominent veins adorning his forearm. Suguru’s breath was hot on his face, misting his sunglasses.
Being so close to him, their noses almost touching, made his pulse quicken. His gaze fell down on the tip of the pink tongue peeking out his lips to wet them, barely a few inches from his own. He felt his palms getting sweaty.
It was too tempting to lean forward just a little bit, what if he just — No, come on, get a grip.
"Did you really have to slam me against the wall like we’re in some dramatic romance novel?" His voice came out only a little bit hoarse but otherwise was as smug as he intended.
He tried to deepen his shallow breathing to calm himself and not let his thoughts wander off to places they didn’t belong. What a mistake that was.
Suguru’s scent was overwhelming, crawling into the deepest ends of his mind and numbing everything else around him. He smelled the lavender growing in front of his window and freshly brewed coffee and musky leather. There was a hint of smoke in it, but it never bothered him, it had become a part of him by now. He inhaled once again, the scent of his anchor, of a comfortable security in the chaos that was his life. Of home.
Satoru wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the crook of his neck and pull him into a tight embrace. He never would have let him go.
The moment was over before he could even sort his thoughts, the grip on his collar loosening as Suguru pulled away, a chuckle leaving his chest.
"Yeah obviously I had to, since you’re too clumsy to walk down the hallway without making noise. Did you want us both to get detention for leaving the school after midnight again?”
Satoru rolled his eyes, getting up on wobbly legs and attempted to straighten out the wrinkles his friend's fist left in his shirt.
“You were the one who thought this was a good idea, but thank you so much for saving me from that horrible fate, my hero!" The sarcasm couldn’t deceive over his bashful smile.
“You’ll be the death of me.”
He hid his nose in the soft grey fabric of the t-shirt, but the scent was long gone.
“Five.”
They walked the rest of the way next to each other in silence, passing the historical buildings and the tall entrance to the College, until the canopies became sparse above them.
Satoru laid back his head and he couldn’t help but wonder if, somewhere in the infinity of the black sky, there would have been a world where he could gather the courage to tell his friend how he truly felt.
His heart fluttered when he noticed Suguru’s hand searching for his, clearly hearing the soft smile in his voice.
“You’ll trip over a root if you don’t watch your feet.”
Satoru closed his eyes and bathed in the warm feeling of Suguru’s hand sliding into his own, their fingers entwining like it was second nature.
Goosebumps spread over his back and arms. For once, he was able to give up all control, allowing himself to be led into the right direction by the one he trusted the most.
They didn’t let go while laying down in the grass, listening to each other’s heartbeat and the occasional rustling of the warm breeze through the leaves of the nearby trees.
He felt the pair of dark eyes fixated on him while his friend’s thumb stroked the back of his hand and smiled to himself.
He was glad his red string of fate connected him to this man he could just be himself with. Suguru had always been the only one who didn’t expect perfection from him at all, but who looked behind his façade and chose to embrace his flaws. He was grounding him, keeping him sane when the walls that were his responsibility were caving in, threatening to bury him.
There was no need for him to be the six eyed god everyone else saw in him, carrying the weight of the Jujutsu world on his shoulders.
When he was with Suguru, he was no sorcerer, not the head of the Gojo clan. He was just Satoru — the child he never got to be.
But for Satoru, Suguru Getou was everything.
If he ever believed in the existence of soulmates, it would’ve been him, the one he could bare his very being to. He would have laid the whole world to his feet, defended him to every enemy and bent the laws of nature for him if he just said the word. If he ever gave him a chance.
Together, they were invincible.
He sighed deeply, ran his fingers through his silvery hair and put the free hand behind his head, losing himself in the sky.
Everything was turned upside down, they were flying over the endless void that was the universe and Satoru was sure he would fall if it weren’t for the hand in his that kept him bound to the earth above them.
“Six,
Seven.”
“I’m going to get it tattooed one day,” Suguru said, pointing upwards and tracing the constellation into the air with his finger.
“Me too.” Satoru opened his eyes to the crystal clear night sky, hundreds of stars reflecting in them. The Milky Way was visible from here, a band of light spanning from one side of the horizon to the other, despite the proximity to Tokyo’s bright street lights, lit up skyscrapers and neon advertisements.
“No you won’t.”
“Why wouldn’t I? It looks cool and it reminds me of you.'' He turned on his side towards his best friend who was already watching him, studying his features with an amused look.
“You won’t get a tattoo because you’re a damn coward, ‘toru. Besides, that’s cheating, you’re supposed to remember the constellation without seeing it everytime you look in the mirror.”
I already see it every time I look at your smile. I always want to remember you, I want to remember these nights with you.
Satoru silently cursed himself for taking too long to find a good answer, even though he could taste the words on the tip of his tongue. He felt nauseous, hearing his own blood circulate in his ears. Maybe next time.
This wasn’t at all how he planned to confess to him, the young man he fell in love with when the two of them were still kids. The conversation was way too casual and he wanted to wait for the perfect moment.
Looking back, maybe that was the only perfect moment.
“Eight.”
“A shooting star, over there! The first one tonight!” Suguru smacked his shoulder to gain his attention and Satoru flinched at the impact, too deep in his own thoughts.
“Quick, make a wish!” He took another drag of his cigarette.
“I wish I could finally grow a beard!” Satoru blurted out in an attempt to not only lighten his own mood, but also to admire the way his friend's nose wrinkled and his eyes turned into beautiful black crescents when he laughed.
“You’re kidding, aren’t you? You’d look like my grandfather! No no no —” he grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. What a bummer. “Make a serious wish. Something you won’t regret later.”
“I wish —“ Noticing a single tiny cloud making its long way across the sky, he took a deep breath, his chest heaving, “I wish we could just lie here and look up at the stars forever.”
Suguru huffed. “Idiot, you shouldn’t have told me.” He sat up and his gaze wandered off into the distance, the slight smile slowly crumbling. Satoru watched him through heavy eyelids as he distracted himself by fumbling with the small hole in his shirt, accidentally ripping it open even more before he crossed his arms around his knees, pressing them to his chest.
“Now it won’t come true” he added, his voice cracking barely audible.
He wonders what was worrying his mind that night, if he somehow knew what was inevitably going to happen.
“Nine,” Gojou whispers to himself with a lump in his throat, the shooting star above him getting blurry.
His hands cling onto his arms like they’re the only thing keeping his shattered soul inside of his chest, stroking the stars connected by thin lines on his bicep. Even though he learned how to hide it, his heart has always been fragile as glass, the weight of it becoming unbearable when he’s painfully reminded of his only weakness, his vulnerability.
To be the honored one, the single strongest sorcerer, also meant to be alone.
Could he have done anything, said anything to prevent them from slowly losing each other?
You were supposed to lie next to me. We should have been here together.
I would have loved you, I always did. I still do.
He doubts it.
Now all he can see behind his closed eyes is the hurt expression on Getou‘s face when he turned around that last night they spent on the hill.
“You know, Satoru, your eyes shine even brighter than all these stars.“
@brautschnitzel 2022. Don’t repost my stuff or I’ll hunt you down.
Hi, I just wanted an excuse to write something angsty
c/w: angst, Levi and reader are exes, fem!reader, heartbreak, post-breakup, not a happy ending
“What do you like most about me?”
Back when you had first asked that question, Levi hadn’t had an answer. It was a silly question, he thought. There were too many things that he liked to pick just one.
Your tenacity had been the first thing that caught his attention all those years ago. Eyes bright and shimmering with hope for the future. Despite the losses, all of the comrades left behind with each expedition, you never let that wither your spirit. If anything, it urged you forward, keeping you going when others couldn’t find it in themselves to carry on.
By the time he began to notice the things he liked about you physically, he already knew that his interest was more than friendly.
It took months of coming to terms with it. Seeing you, day after day, in the mess hall. Trying to ignore the way his stomach would swoop over the sound of your laugh at some stupid joke of Hange’s. Telling himself that he was only concerned for a fellow soldier when his eyes would search for yours among the survivors beyond the walls. He felt like a damn kid with his first crush. Far too excited and nervous than could be deemed reasonable for a man his age whenever you’d look at him.
Over a year later, long after he’d finally gotten over himself and asked you out, you confessed that you thought he’d hated you back then. He hadn’t been entirely surprised. Levi liked to keep most people at a distance. But you were different. Had always been different to him.
Like a strike of lightning, the memory of your question resurfaces on one random evening. Four years after he first told you that he loved you. Three years since he took stock of his earnings as captain and bought a ring.
He watches as you fall into an easy conversation with a couple of MPs gathered in an archway. It’s wintertime, meaning that expeditions are halted and the banquets have begun to drum up funding for the spring. The forest green shade of your cloak as been swapped with a long gown of rich, dark silk. The straps at your shoulders are thin, and Levi aches to run his fingers along the soft exposed flesh of your shoulders.
You smile and laugh but he’s too far away to hear what you’re reacting to. The music is too loud, and suddenly the sensation of the tie around his neck feels too tight. He wants to go home, but it’s more of a museum these days than it is a place of respite.
A hand comes to rest at your waist, and your own hand soon covers it. A ring, large and sparkling, so different from the one he’d bought you, decorates your finger. It looks as heavy as his heart feels when it shines in the nearby candlelight. You lean into your lover’s embrace and Levi selfishly wonders if you like it more. It shouldn’t matter—he should be grateful—that the blazing sense of purpose still hasn’t left your eyes.
You never look his way anymore, but he’s sure that his stomach would still somersault like it always has. No matter where you are, he still thinks his eyes will always look for you first in a crowd.
And if you would ask him now what he liked about you most, he wouldn’t need so much time to think. If you’d ask him now, his answer would be nice and simple. He would only have to say everything.
like there comes a point where you think something is fundamentally wrong with you. and then it turns out it’s just Friday and you haven’t washed your hair in three days and maybe you’re also just a little lonely and the combination of all three of those things is whittling a hole into your chest every time you breathe. but also the sun’s up. and you’ve survived everything so far, so you’ll survive this too, even if it hurts, even if you have to survive it many times.
Very fun. But it's not enough. Let me make something clear: you think of yourselves as "magicians", but when you're on the stage you're first and foremost actors. Good actors hone their craft to mesmerize the whole crowd.
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