satoru loves listening to you, especially when your lips are against his. . .
the room is quiet enough that every little sound feels louder than it should— the soft rustle of blankets, and the tiny laugh that escapes you when satoru steals another kiss before you even finish your sentence.
“you know,” you mumble against his lips. “you should really listen to me right now.”
“i’m listening,” he replies, barely pulling away. his lips brush yours with every word. “you said i’m handsome.”
“i definitely didn’t.”
“no? must’ve imagined it.”
you roll your eyes, though he can’t really see it from how close you are. your noses bump together, and he smiles before giving you another slow, lazy kiss.
“you interrupted me again,” you say.
“m’sorry.. keep talking, sweetheart.”
another kiss.
“i’m trying to tell you,” you whisper, your lips still resting against his. “that we need groceries.”
“we’ll figure something out,” he hums thoughtfully, his breath warm against your face.
“i doubt it, you big back.”
“you’re so mean to me.”
you laugh, the sound breaking into another kiss because satoru seems physically incapable of letting more than a few seconds pass without stealing one.
“kissing me until i forget what i was saying?”
“…is it working?” he muses.
you pause. “…maybe.”
“i know you‘re enjoying yourself,” he says softly, brushing his lips over yours again. “you haven‘t pulled away yet.”
“seems like i’ve made questionable life choices.”
he gasps dramatically, though his smile gives him away.
“oh? dating me is questionable?”
“sometimes.”
another kiss.
“when you leave your socks everywhere.”
mwah.
“when you eat all my snacks.”
mwah.
“when you—”
he kisses you longer that time, lingering just enough that you forget where your complaint is going.
“…see?” he murmurs.
“you are so annoying.”
“but?”
“but…” you smile. “you’re very cute.”
his grin is immediate, and he kisses the corner of your mouth
“what do you want for dinner?” you ask.
“hmm…” he pretends to think hard, his forehead resting against yours. “you.”
“oh my god,” you groan. “you’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”
“maybe.” he grins into the next kiss.
“you should be embarrassed.”
“can’t hear your mean remarks when you’re this close.”
your lips meet in soft, absent-minded kisses between tiny conversations about nothing at all. whether the laundry is finished, whether the weather looks nice tomorrow, or how his teaching is going.
“toru—” kiss. “—how am I supposed to—” another kiss. “—focus?”
“why’d you need to?” his smile softens into something quieter, gentler than his usual teasing grin.
(՞っ ̫ _՞) cute drabbles with satoru and his baby girl
tags: sfw :: PUREE fluff :: satoru being a drama queen :: modern au :: warning: u will get baby fever from this:p
note: I keep seeing babies on tiktok and my sister recently gave birth and OMG I tbink I want a baby..this is a small cute series with Satoru and his baby girl ! (+you ofc) this is like a small makeup post for my delayed chapters for talbilb..im unmotivated for it ok sorry, I used the same taglist tho:)
pairing. satoru gojo x reader (fanart by 28cg_ on x!)
synopsis. it’s christmas. you’re alone again after pulling away from the only people who’ve made you feel seen. you’ve never belonged. why would it be different with them? gojo surprises you by showing up at your door anyway. (wc 7k)
warnings/tags. hurt/comfort, angst, allusion to depression, social anxiety, loneliness, self isolation, & abandonment issues (pls don’t read if any of these might trigger you!), eventual fluff, pet names, comfort kisses, use of y/n in just one scene, gojo is the best boy and shoko and suguru are the best friends :(
꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ i’m sorry for dropping this angst for christmas (my first angst fic too?!) BUT we’re all good bc there’s comfort! right?? please enjoy! bc i may have or may not have sobbed multiple times writing this + this is a backstory for gojo x shy!reader ehhe. i’ll be getting more into their history before i continue writing smut with them so it all hits a little sweeter <3
another christmas alone.
only this time, it was entirely your fault.
you had met the most wonderful people this year: shoko, suguru, and satoru. as friends, they all fit together in a way that felt effortless, as if they’d been carved from the same place and just found each other.
when they took you in, their conversations flowed on as they always had. their inside jokes slipped past you, memories you weren’t part of surfacing without warning.
of course, they never shut you out—no, not once. never on purpose. they were all too kind for that. but sometimes knowing that fact made you feel even worse. it was as if they were constantly making space you hadn’t earned.
you laughed when you were supposed to, showed up when invited and told yourself that was enough. but every time they looked at you with that warmth and curiosity, something in your chest twisted.
kindness that unguarded had to be intentional. and if it was? then it had to be pity.
their texts started early that morning.
shoko greeting you with “merry chistmas!!” then asking what time you’d be over for the christmas party.
an hour passed. when you didn’t answer, suguru’s concern slipped through—gentle at first, then heavier when you still hadn’t shown up like you’d promised the day before.
satoru followed, loud and insistent, demanding you get over there already because he was “dying to see you.”
you sincerely doubted that last bit.
your phone buzzed again and again until your hands started to shake and sweat—and then you just muted their contacts altogether because answering meant stepping back into space you were already afraid of taking up.
you imagined them sitting together, warm, laughing, wondering why you weren’t there… but not wondering for too long.
they must’ve been relieved when you didn’t reply. one less obligation. less pity. more fun. less faking now that they didn’t have to go out of their way to include you.
so you stayed quiet like you always did.
it wasn’t like you contributed much anyway. they wouldn’t miss you—you were sure of that.
you knew you were boring. you knew you were painfully awkward. every word felt wrong the second you considered saying it. you’d been this way for all you’ve known.
all your friends came into your life the same way. they noticed you because you were alone and because they felt bad for you at first. they stayed just long enough to make you hope, then left when the silence became uncomfortable—when you were somehow too much and too little at the same time.
“no wonder she doesn’t have any friends. she’s so boring!”
“right? she doesn’t even try!”
that’s what they’d all say.
you got used to it.
conversations always seemed to stall when you spoke. every bumbling word felt like something you had to apologize for. you felt like you were taking up air meant for someone louder, easier, and more interesting.
with the three of them, you were always hyperaware of yourself. well, scratch that—you were hyperaware with everyone.
you laughed a second too late, every time. one-on-one conversations stretched thin, filled with pauses you didn’t know how to fix. silence settled in your chest and stayed there, heavy and accusing.
shoko and suguru could sit together without speaking and they still felt comfortable. when the same happened to you, it was like a dead weight and as if something had gone wrong and it was all your fault.
satoru tried the hardest to pull you in—too bright, too loud, always reaching. it felt even more wrong, as if he was overcompensating, smoothing over the rough edges you couldn’t hide.
the thing was, nobody had ever tried this hard before. no friends, no supposed friend group. the most they’d let you do was tag along like a lost puppy. smile politely. blend in just enough to not be a nuisance until you were.
but that never happened with them. not yet.
shoko asked you about the little things—your favorite books, what music you liked, the way you liked to spend a lazy afternoon.
suguru remembered every answer and brought it up later, as if your words mattered, as if they had weight.
satoru teased you relentlessly, yes, but he also asked, really asked, what you thought, what you wanted, noticed what made you laugh—really laugh. not just for show, but because he wanted to know.
they were curious about you. maybe out of genuine care.
so that was why you knew it would hurt so much more when they’d eventually leave you like everyone else always did.
and that was why you stayed in bed all christmas day, cocooned in blankets.
the world outside your apartment and even outside your room felt too loud and too full of happy people who didn’t understand how much effort it took just to breathe.
you only got up once, drawn by the rumble of your empty stomach. the kitchen was cold, at your feet, even in fuzzy socks—an early christmas present satoru got you, their blue color that reminded you of his eyes. they mocked you now.
even the act of making tea felt like climbing a mountain.
you moved on autopilot, filling a mug, heating water, staring blankly at the counter as if it might answer all the questions swirling in your head.
the quiet felt accusing. it always did when you were alone. every shadow seemed to whisper that maybe this was exactly where you belonged.
alone. forgotten. left behind.
the tea steamed in your hands, warm and meaningless, while your phone lay ignored on the table.
you wanted to tell yourself it was okay. that hiding like you always did was easier and that retreating under blankets, pretending the world had forgotten you was safer.
if you expected nothing there was nothing to loose.
you set the mug down untouched. it’s steam curled up and vanished into the cold air, like all the warmth in the world that couldn’t reach you. your hands trembled slightly, and for a moment you just stared at the mug, wishing it could carry your burdens.
finally, you give up.
you trudge back to your room and crawl beneath the blankets, pulling them over your head like they might muffle everything you’re feeling. you curl into yourself, arms tight around your middle, jaw clenched so hard it aches. you tell yourself not to cry. just breathe. just don’t.
your eyes burn. your throat closes up.
one tear slips, traitorous, soaking into your pillow before you can wipe it away. you swallow hard, trying to force it down, but your chest aches and a quiet sound escapes you.
then another tear follows. and another.
after that, there’s no stopping it.
the tears come silent, pressed into fabric, shaking out of you like something you’ve been holding hostage all day. they spill freely, hot and relentless, streaking your cheeks, blurring everything. your breathing turns uneven, chest heaving as if it can’t quite remember how to work, shoulders trembling with the effort of keeping it quiet.
you cry until it hurts—until your ribs ache, until your throat feels raw and scraped bare, until the hiccups rip through you in soft, humiliating bursts.
there’s nobody to comfort you. not now. not ever.
the blankets twist around your body, heavy and useless, offering nothing but warmth without comfort. your room stays still—dark and indifferent, watching you fall apart.
when the tears slow eventually, thinning into shaky breaths, your body sags in on itself. emptied out and exhausted.
your eyes throb, swollen and sore, lashes clumped together with dried tears. the last broken cry slips from your chest, barely more than a breath.
sleep takes you then—not gentle, not kind—but restless and thin, pulling you under while the ache still lingers in your bones.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
you hadn’t even remembered falling asleep but banging on your door jolts you awake.
panic hits you immediately. the knocks are impatient. almost angry…? for a split second, your half asleep mind spirals.
were you about to be robbed?
your heart slams against your ribs as you scramble upright, sheets tangling around your legs. you reach for your phone, fingers shaking, only to remember you had left it on the kitchen table.
the banging comes again, louder this time, rattling the door in its frame. you swallow hard.
clutching your blanket around your shoulders like armor, you slip out of your room on shaky feet, every step careful, silent.
you grab your phone just as the knocking turns more frantic.
then a voice cuts through it—urgent, rough around the edges, painfully familiar.
“y/n? i’m really fucking worried now. open the door please! i swear to—”
your breathing stills just as he cuts himself off.
it’s satoru.
softer now stripped of all his loud confidence, “please y/n… open the door.”
the way he says your name, like he’s been pacing and trying not to panic, makes your heart twist. the teasing lilt you know so well is gone. the bravado is gone. it’s just worry. real, naked worry.
you stand there frozen, blanket clutched tight, blinking against the sting building behind your eyes, throat closing up.
he came.
he actually came.
nevertheless, panic swarms you all over again. what were you supposed to do? would he be angry? were the others with him? god—you were a mess. your hair tangled with sleep, eyes swollen, face still tight from crying. you couldn’t let anyone see you like this. you couldn’t let him see you like this.
every instinct screams at you to disappear back under the covers and pretend none of this is happening.
but you can’t. he’s right outside your door.
you’re stuck there, suspended between panic and disbelief, feet rooted to the floor.
but then his voice breaks through again—sharper now, threaded with something dangerously close to desperation.
“c’mon— y/n? please. open the door. i need to know if you’re okay… i- i’ll break it down if i have to!”
you flinch.
before fear can talk you out of it you’re moving.
your hands shake so badly as you fumble with the lock, breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls. the door swings open just a crack, and for one terrifying second, you don’t know if you’re ready to meet his eyes.
but there he is.
satoru’s hand is mid knock and he almost stumbles forward when the door opens.
his usual grin is nowhere to be found. instead, there’s worry carved into every line of his face, raw and unguarded—and it hits you harder than anything else tonight.
he exhales your name the second he sees you, relief flooding his voice like it’s been trapped there.
“are you okay?”
the simple question catches you so off guard. it’s not a where where you? or why have you been ignoring us?
he’s asking if you’re okay.
your throat tightens painfully. you can’t answer. you can’t make yourself look at him.
he says your name again, softer this time, almost a plea, but the sound barely reaches you over the storm building in your chest.
everything caves in at once—every wall you put up. every breath you forced to stay steady.
before you can stop it, the dam breaks.
and when it does? his arms are around you.
they’re warm and solid, making your body collapse into him like instinct.
he holds you like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s anchoring you in place when you’re falling apart. his palm cups the back of your head, careful, reverent, like you’re something fragile and worth protecting.
the real sobs that have been clawing at your chest finally spill free.
satoru doesn’t even even pull away or flinch. if anything he settles closer like this is what he was made for.
he murmurs your name again and again, letting you cry it out against him. you cling to him, face buried in his chest, shoulders trembling so hard they ache.
your hair is damp where tears have soaked through, breath hitching in uneven pulls. the scent of him—clean soap, warmth, him—fills your lungs, grounding in a way nothing else has been all day.
for the first time, the crushing weight on your chest eases. just a little. maybe more.
his hand moves through your hair in slow, soothing circles, patient and unhurried. then his fingers catch the edge of the blanket you’re still clutching uselessly between you, and without another word, he tugs it higher around your shoulders. snug and protective.
the gesture is so gentle—so considerate—that your breath stutters all over again.
the words repeat like a mantra, quiet but insistent, making your chest ache. “it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs. “it’s okay… i’ve got you. you’re not alone. you’re not alone, okay?”
the word baby lands like a shock straight to your chest.
nobody had ever called you that. nobody had called you that in a way that felt like this—care and tenderness instead of something you had to earn. your fingers curl tighter in his shirt, knuckles whitening as if your body is afraid that if you let go, even a little, he’ll vanish.
a broken sound tears out of your throat, sharper than the sobs before it, like something inside you has finally split open. your face presses harder into his chest, tears soaking through as your body trembles.
you want to stop—you really do, it’s embarrassing to be like this in front of him, but each sob is pulled from somewhere deep and bruised, all your fear spilling out at once.
you’d been so sure—so sure—that being held like this was never meant for you.
but now… satoru is giving it to you.
his arms tighten, firm and grounding when your knees threaten to buckle, keeping you upright because he won’t let you collapse completely. one hand stays cradled at the back of your head while the other rubs slow, reassuring circles into your back.
“hey,” he murmurs, voice thick now, like he feels it too. “it’s okay. you don’t have to hold back anymore. cry if you need to. i’m right here.”
you gasp, trying to speak, but all that comes out is a choked, broken sound—your words dissolving into sobs as soon as they reach your throat. you shake your head against his chest like you’re arguing and trying to deny everything spilling out of you.
when you sob against him again, you don’t feel so alone doing it.
he still doesn’t let go, only holding you closer, resting his cheek against the top of your head, breathing slow and deliberately until your body starts to follow his lead.
“i’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, a promise meant only for you. “not tonight. okay?”
your chest still hurts. the tears still come. but somewhere between the steady thump of his heart and the quiet certainty in his voice, the pain shifts—no longer sharp, just heavy. something you can carry.
you nod against him.
the next thing you know, satoru is lifting you effortlessly into his arms. he carries you across the room like you’re the most fragile thing in the world.
your apartment feels too big and too empty as he walks, but the space between the two of you feels impossibly small. impossibly safe.
he sits down on the couch without letting you go, keeping you tucked against his chest, your arms still looped around his waist. his hand never leaves the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair like they belong there.
you can feel his warmth seeping into you.
he hums softly under his breath, repeating those reassurances that wrap around you like a warm hug.
“i’ve got you,” he murmurs again, “you don’t have to be brave right now. not for anyone. just be here with me.”
and you try to do just that.
you let the tears fall, let yourself shudder against him, let yourself finally rest against someone who refuses to let you crumble alone.
you’ve never felt so seen—so heard without even saying a word.
slowly but surely, the cries eventually fade, replacing themselves with slow, heavy breathing.
he shifts slightly, cradling you closer, and you feel the gentle press of his chin atop your heat. he waits, patient, giving you a long moment to breathe.
when you’ve calmed down more he speaks, breaking the quiet.
“hi, pretty girl… can i see you?”
your chest tightens at his words. your brain scrambles. pretty? me?
it hits you all at once how big this is for you and your face heats like fire. you feel your cheeks burn, your lips parting, unsure what to say. flustered, vulnerable, and entirely unguarded, you nod slightly, still buried against his chest.
his fingers tilts your chin up gently, the other hand brushing your damp hair from your face.
your eyes meet his blue ones that you adore so much and he smiles. it makes your chest ache in a new way. not with pain, but with the strange, overwhelming relief of being noticed.
“there you are,” he whispers, almost to himself.
you blink, still caught somewhere between disbelief and a growing warmth. he leans in just slightly, close enough that you can feel his warm breath without pressure, close enough that you know he’s not going anywhere.
his thumb brushes along your cheek, tracing the damp tracks of your tears, and a shiver runs through you. not from fear or from the cold, from the way he’s holding you making you feel safe.
“it’s okay,” he says again, softer this time, “you don’t have to hide. not from me. not ever.”
you swallow the lump in your throat.
when you finally talk, your voice is hoarse.
“thank you,” you whisper, the words barely making it past your lips.
it feels small compared to everything he’s done—showing up, holding you, staying—but it’s all you can offer. your fingers curl into his shirt again, not quite ready to let go, your heart fluttering in a way that feels dangerous.
he exhales softly, something warm and fond in the sound, and dips his forehead to rest against yours. “hey,” he murmurs, gentle, “you don’t have to thank me for anything. i actually should’ve come much earlier…”
“huh?” you murmur.
your chest tightens with something tender and aching. you’ve always felt it for him, even before today. his presence made everything feel a little lighter, a little safer. you’d told yourself it was nothing. but right now, wrapped up in his arms, it feels impossible to deny.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes soft, unguarded in a way you don’t see often. one of his hands stays firm at your waist, grounding, now like he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.
“yeah,” he says quietly. “i was so worried when you didn’t answer us. i kept hoping you’d show up…”
“i should’ve noticed sooner… you’ve been trying so hard to be okay, and i let you do it alone.” his thumb brushes absentmindedly over your side, slow and soothing. “that’s on me. i’m sorry…”
your chest tightens further with the overwhelming weight of being seen. you know now that he doesn't pity you. he cares enough for you to regret missing the signs.
you shake your head quickly, instinctively. “i didn’t want to bother anyone,” you admit, voice small. “especially you.”
his brows knit together, and for the first time there’s something fierce under the softness. “you could never bother me,” he says immediately, like it’s obvious. like it’s always been obvious. “i just… i thought you knew that.”
your heart stutters. you swallow, eyes dropping to his chest, suddenly shy. “i didn’t,” you confess.
there’s a beat of silence. not awkward—heavy. meaningful.
then he tilts his head, smiling faintly, something vulnerable flickering across his face. “guess i should be clearer, then.”
you think—oh. maybe he’s going to say something else. maybe he’s just close because he always is.
but then his lips brush your cheek.
it’s so light you almost miss it.
but how could you?
you freeze instantly, breath catching sharp in your chest, eyes widening in pure surprise. before your mind can catch up, he presses another kiss just beneath your eye—right where your tears had fallen. then another, careful and unhurried, like he’s testing something fragile.
your heart stumbles violently. he’s not teasing. not rushing. he’s kissing your face—like it means something. like you mean something.
“satoru—” you breathe, startled, his name slipping out on instinct alone.
he pauses instantly, forehead resting against yours again, thumb still warm against your cheek.
he searches your face. “is this okay?”
you nod before you can think, cheeks burning, pulse racing, still stunned.
“mhm,” you whisper.
something soft breaks across his face at that—relief, affection, something dangerously sincere. he presses one last kiss to your cheek, lingering just a second longer this time, like he’s memorizing the feeling of you here, alive and real in his arms.
“i’ve always wanted to do that,” he admits quietly.
your chest tightens, breath shallow. you don’t know what to say. you’d never imagined this—not really. never let yourself believe he’d want to kiss you like this. but now, held gently, kissed so carefully, you realize how long you’ve been aching for it too.
he doesn’t push. doesn’t take more.
“merry christmas,” he says with a small, almost shy smile.
you let out a breathless, disbelieving huff of a laugh.
“merry christmas,” you echo, just as softly.
his smile widens at that, eyes crinkling in a way that makes your stomach flutter. he squeezes you just a little tighter, like he’s grounding himself too, like this means as much to him as it does to you.
and then he’s pulling something out of this pocket.
“i have this for you.”
your heart stutters. “wait- you didn’t have to—”
“I know,” he says gently. “but i wanted to.”
he opens his palm, revealing a small box. your hands shake as you take it.
when you lift the lid, your breath catches in a gasp.
inside is a necklace. it’s so delicate and it’s in the jewelry color you always wear. the small charm makes your chest ache instantly. it’s a tiny origami crane.
he remembered. he really remembered.
weeks ago, you’d mentioned in passing, how much you loved origami—how a single crane could hold a wish, a hope, or a secret meaning. it hadn’t even been a full conversation. you’d never imagined he was really listening—let alone care enough to turn it into something like this.
“you remembered?” you whisper.
he shrugs, almost shy, a small grin tugging at his lips. “of course i did.” then, softer, “it reminded me of you.”
your eyes sting. again. you laugh softly, pressing the tiny crane to your chest like like it might hold every little ache and joy you’ve been carrying. no one had ever paid attention like this—not enough to remember, not enough to choose something that spoke to you.
“can i?” he asks, already reaching.
you nod. he inches closer, fingers brushing your hair aside as he fastens it around your neck. his touch lingers at the nape for half a second too long.
when he pulls back, his gaze softens. “it looks perfect on you,” he says quietly.
your heart feels like it might burst.
“wait,” you blurt suddenly, panic and courage colliding. “i- i have something for you too.”
his brows lift in surprise. “yeah?”
you pull away reluctantly and hurry to your room, heart racing. the gift had been tucked away in your closet for weeks—a stupid, impulsive thing you bought because it made you think of him immediately. you never thought you’d actually get the chance to give it to him.
you come back clutching it behind your back, suddenly painfully shy. “it’s not… i mean, it’s kind of silly,” you mumble, holding it out.
he blinks when he sees it—then a smile envelops his entire face.
it’s a plushie of a white cat with blue eyes. soft and ridiculous.
he takes it from you carefully, eyes flicking from the plushie to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.
you stumble over your words to fill the gap, “it’s… it’s stupid, i mean—i just saw it and it reminded me of you and i didn’t think i’d ever actually get the chance to give it to you—”
instead of replying, he’s tugging you onto his lap.
instead, he’s tugging you gently onto his lap.
the soft plushie gets tucked between you, pressed to his chest as his arms come around you, laughter bubbling out of him like he can’t help it.
“oh my god,” he laughs softly, voice fond and warm, “you’re so cute.”
then he leans in—and suddenly his lips are on your face again.
“it’s perfect, baby,” he murmurs into your hair, squeezing the plushie again like he needs to make the point stick.
the kisses start soft. then teasing. then faster, lighter—pressed everywhere without warning. your cheeks, your temples, the tip of your nose. he laughs between them, breath warm against your skin, eyes bright and sparkling like he’s having the time of his life.
your hands clutch at his shirt, breath going shallow as you whine in embarrassment, but he doesn’t let you go. he cradles you easily, the plushie snug between you while his arms hold you close.
“i’m so happy,” he says, smiling in a dopey way that makes your chest ache—and makes you want to kiss him back properly, except you can barely think straight. his forehead rests against yours, close enough that you can feel his breath. “i’m so happy you’re here… and that you got me this little thing…”
all you can do is laugh, breathless, cheeks burning, head spinning from the way he’s holding you, kissing you, making you feel.
you manage a small, breathless laugh, voice trembling. “you really like it, huh?”
he looks down at the plushie, then back at you, eyes sparkling. “like it? i love it,” he says, squeezing it gently before glancing at you again, smile wide and unrestrained. “thank you for thinking of me.”
your cheeks burn hotter, heart hammering. “i… i should be the one saying that…” you murmur, fingers fidgeting.
he laughs softly, a warm, light sound that makes your stomach flutter, then leans in and presses a quick kiss to your forehead and you can’t help but laugh and squirm a little on his lap, trying to catch your breath.
and the way he looks at you after that—soft, fond, unmistakably pleased—makes your chest feel too full.
you feel like you’re the grinch and your heart has grown three sizes.
he’s still smiling at you like that—soft, pleased, a little stunned—when something beyond you catches his eye.
the laughter in his chest slows. his gaze drifts past your shoulder, toward the window.
“…wait,” he says, squinting slightly.
you follow his line of sight just as his eyes widen, excitement lighting up his face all at once.
“wait—look!”
thick snowflakes are falling outside.
his whole demeanor changes instantly—like a switch has flipped. he practically bounces in place, and you knew he actually would’ve if your weren’t sitting on his lap. he grips you just a little tighter in his excitement.
“it’s christmas snow! actual christmas snow! do you see this?!”
you laugh, covering your mouth with your hands, gaze stuck between the window and him. “it’s beautiful.”
you don’t know which is better.
he looks back at you, eyes sparkling. there’s something boyish and unfiltered about him this way that makes you feel the same.
“hey,” he says suddenly, leaning closer like he’s about to share a secret. “have you ever made a snow angel?”
you shake your head slowly. “no… my parents never let me. they were always worried i’d get sick.”
his expression shifts instantly—mock offense, dramatic disbelief.
“no way!” he groans. “that’s unacceptable. today, we make snow angels. non-negotiable.”
before you can even respond, he’s already moving—hands on your waist, lifting you easily off his lap and tugging you toward the door. you stumble after him, laughing, heart racing.
“wait—wait!” you protest, breathless. “i need to get dressed first!”
he freezes mid-step, blinks, then laughs at himself. “oh my god—yeah. okay. wow. what am i doing?” he steps back, holding his hands up dramatically. “bundle up. i’ll wait. promise.”
the way he says it—easy, unhurried, like he truly had nowhere else to be even when he had been so excited—makes something in you soften even more.
you retreat into your room, heart still pounding, movements a little clumsy from leftover adrenaline and excitement. you pull on your jacket quickly, then a knit hat, gloves, and a scarf. just as you’re about to head back out, you pause. you hadn’t seen satoru bring anything with him except a jacket.
without really thinking, you grab an extra scarf and another pair of gloves, folding them over your arm before leaving the room.
when you step back out, he looks up from where he’s waiting by the door. his eyes flick over you—and then down.
“…aww,” he grins, pointing. “those are the socks i got you.”
you glance down, suddenly aware of the fuzzy fabric peeking out beneath your pants. your face warms. “oh. yeah,” you admit quietly. “i wore them all day.”
something in his expression shifts, fond and gentle all at once. he grins in his boyish way, “i like that,”
you hold out the extra gloves and scarf, shy. “i… grabbed these for you. just in case. i didn’t have an extra hat though…”
his eyebrows lift, surprised—and then he smiles wider. “you’re really sweet, you know that?”
“says you,” you mumble, ducking your head.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
outside, the cold hits you immediately. thick flakes drift down like the world has softened just for christmas. there had already been snow on the ground from last week, but now a fresh layer was settling over everything making it all untouched.
satoru drops down first, landing flat on his back with a dramatic oof.
“okay! like this,” he announces, already spreading his arms and legs wide against the snow as if he was demonstrating something very serious.
you hesitate for half a second—just long enough for the cold to feel real—before lowering yourself down beside him. you sit, then lie back, the snow immediately seeping through your coat, cold enough to pull a sharp gasp from your chest before it turns into laughter. you start moving your arms and legs, copying him, the rhythm awkward at first.
“you’re doing it!” he says, turning his head toward you, grin bright and uncontained. “your first snow angel!”
you turn toward him too, cheeks flushed both from the cold and from him. snow clings to your lashes, almost like you’re trying to match his naturally white ones. “i can’t believe i’ve never done this before,” you admit, breath fogging the air.
“well, it only matters you’re doing it now!” he grins, stretching his arms wider, deliberately exaggerating his movements. “and you gotta commit,” he says. “bigger wings. like this.”
“that’s not fair! my arms aren’t as long as yours!”
you try to follow, laughing harder now—and then your glove slips, accidentally flinging snow straight into his hair.
he freezes.
dramatically, he gasps. “hey! was that an attack?!”
you sit up immediately, laughing so hard your sides ache. “i didn’t mean to!”
“oh, it’s on!” he says, already scooping up a handful of snow. he lobs it at you with zero aim, the clump falling apart midair and barely dusting your sleeve.
“that doesn’t even count!” you tease, scrambling to your feet.
your boots crunch loudly against the snow. he chases after you, laughing, long strides intentionally slowing just enough for you to stay ahead. you can tell he’s letting you win—and it makes you giggle even more.
but then your foot slips.
before you can panic, he’s there, catching you around the waist. the two of you tumble down together in a messy heap, snow puffing up around you as you land.
you end up tangled together, his arm braced beside your head, your hands gripping his jacket. for a moment, neither of you move.
your faces are close, too close—breaths fogging the space between you as the laughter fades into something quieter. you feel so warm inside despite the cold snow biting at you.
the world feels still, like it’s waiting for the two of you.
snow keeps drifting down lazily, catching in his bright hair and melting against his pinkened cheeks.
you’re suddenly aware of how close you are—too close to pretend this is still just an accident—but neither of you pull away.
you huff the way your stomach is fluttering with a soft laugh, eyes flicking up to his hair. “you’re matching the snow.”
he pouts immediately, exaggerated and offended, and it makes you want to kiss it right off his face.
“rude.”
you shake your head quickly, flustered, fingers tightening in his jacket. “no- i meant like- in a good way. you’re like a real snow angel.”
he blinks. once. then again. the tips of his ears turn pink almost instantly.
“…hey,” he mutters, suddenly looking anywhere but at you. “that’s not fair.”
“huh?”
“you can’t just say things like that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, flustered.
“oh…”
when he finally looks back at you, there’s something nervous and earnest there, something softer than you’ve ever seen.
his gaze slips down to your lips.
it’s almost like he can’t seem to help it. he exhales slowly, steadying himself.
you gulp.
the realization hits you all at once—what’s about to happen. what you want to happen. your hands tighten in his jacket, knuckles brushing the fabric as your heart stumbles, caught somewhere between nerves and longing.
was this how your first kiss is going to happen?
he wets his lips without thinking, then looks at your own. really looks.
“i… can i…?” he murmurs, voice low, almost breaking.
you nod, barely able to breathe. “mhm….”
he leans in slowly, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment. each inch feels deliberate and suspended, the space between you stretching thin with anticipation. you don’t pull away. not even a little. and your lips part on instinct.
he notices. his breath catches, eyes flicking to your mouth before lifting to meet yours again, searching, making sure you’re still with him.
the world narrows.
he closes the distance carefully. the brush of his nose against yours sends a quiet spark through you, your pulse roaring in your ears as the last sliver of space lingers—just long enough to feel unbearable.
then it’s gone.
his lips meet yours… soft as a promise. warmth blooms instantly like fireworks, chasing away the cold that clings to your skin.
his hand stays at your jaw, thumb tracing slow arcs that make your breath hitch against him.
you register distantly that his gloves are gone, that his skin is warm against yours despite the cold somehow, but the thought drifts away before it can settle.
your fingers are already knotted in his jacket, unsure and clumsy, so you cling harder, grounding yourself in the familiar weight of him, the fabric wrinkling beneath your grip.
he notices. the kiss lingers as if he’s reassuring you without words. he doesn’t rush you, only leaning in just a touch more.
you feel the curve of a smile against your lips before it fades into something deeper.
the kiss deepens and you exhale into him without meaning to, and he hums low in his chest, pleased. like he’d been waiting for that.
the sound sends a small shiver through you and your grip tightens again, knuckles brushing the warmth of his chest beneath the layers.
his thumb stills at your jaw when you finally pull back a fraction, just enough to breathe, your foreheads resting together.
you breaths fog between you, uneven, and he lets out a soft laugh under his breath, something shy and disbelieving.
“wow,” he murmurs, like he’s afraid to break the spell.
you look at him in awe, as if you’re seeing him for the first time but somehow have always known him. his white lashes are dusted with snow, cheeks flushed pink, blue eyes soft and a little stunned like he can’t quite believe this is real either.
for a second, you forget everything else. the pain you’d felt for your whole life? he’s taking it away, little by little until there’s just him, this close, breathing the same air as you.
your lips still tingle where they had met his so intimately, warmth blooming low in your chest, spreading slow and sweet.
“…hi,” you whisper. you don’t know what else to say. the word is barely there, more breath than sound.
his mouth curves into a small, crooked smile, shy in a way you’ve never seen before. “hi pretty girl,” he echoes, quieter, like he’s matching you on purpose.
he leans his forehead against yours again and your fingers relax just a little in his jacket. not because you’re ready to let go—only because you don’t feel like you have to hold on so tightly anymore.
snow keeps falling around you, soft and steady, and for once, it feels like the world got something right.
but then a startled gasp breaks the quiet.
“ugh—! you guys are alive!”
the sound makes both of you jump. you and satoru jerk upright at the same time, scrambling out of your tangled sprawl in the snow, hearts leaping into your throats as you turn toward the voice.
shoko stands a few steps away, one hand pressed to her chest like she’s catching her breath, the other already pointing accusingly at satoru. suguru lingers beside her, calmer, but his posture eases the second he sees you both.
“we’ve been worried sick,” shoko says, relief tumbling out on top of her irritation. “satoru, you said you were just checking on her and then you disappear without letting us know she’s fine! no texts, no calls, nothing!”
satoru winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “oh… sorry about that.”
but then she stops.
actually looks at the two of you.
at how close you’re still sitting despite jumping apart. at the way his knee is almost touching yours, his arm hovering awkwardly like he’s not sure where to put it now. at your embarrassed face, snow clinging to your lashes, hands still half curled like they’d only just let go of his jacket.
“…wait,” she says slowly.
her eyes widen. “oh my gosh. you two—?”
your face heats instantly. “we—”
satoru lets out a small, caught laugh. “uhh…”
there’s a beat of silence—then shoko’s expression flips completely. her mouth drops open, then curls into a grin so wide it’s almost blinding.
“are you serious?” she whispers, delighted. “is this happening right now?”
suguru exhales, something like a chuckle slipping free. “uh huh. it was about time,” he says, easy and knowing.
shoko lets out a sound that’s simply delighted, and before either of you can react, she drops straight down into the snow, arms flinging wide around both of you.
“oh my god,” she laughs, pressing her cold cheek against yours. “i’m actually going to cry. this is so overdue.”
you freeze for a moment, flustered by how close she’s pressed against you. an unrestrained giggle escapes your lips and satoru groans, trying to push her the two of you.
“okay! okay, shoko! get off!”
“what? i’m celebrating!” she protests, holding on tighter. “i’ve been waiting forever for this moment!”
satoru huffs, mock exasperated, gently trying to pry her off. “hey! hands off my girl, jeez! she’s mine!”
my girl.
you laugh through your blush, squirming a little as shoko giggles, clearly unbothered by satoru’s mock jealousy.
from the side, suguru stands with his arms crossed, snow crunching under his boots as he watches, outwardly begrudging, but the faintest crease of a smile betrays him.
“unbelievable,” he mutters, voice dry, and then, with a resigned huff, he kneels down and lets himself join the tangle of limbs on the snow.
he rests his weight next to you and whispers, “glad you’re okay.”
your bashful ‘thank you’ is swallowed by shoko squealing as she wiggles happily between you and satoru.“this is a christmas miracle!” she laughs, pressing her cheek closer to yours and tightening her grip. “i’ve been waiting forever for this!”
satoru groans, exasperated but laughing at the same time. “shoko! seriously! you’re going to crush us!”
you can’t stop the laugh that escapes you, breathless and shaky, cheeks warm, heart hammering. over shoko’s shoulder, your eyes meet satoru’s—bright, steady, and impossibly blue. for a moment, the rest of the world disappears and even shoko’s excited giggles fade into the background.
his hands reach out to intertwine with yours behind shoko’s back and your fingers tighten instinctively around him when they meet.
suguru sits nearby, looking like he’s enduring the chaos, but that small invisible smile is always there to show he’s truly happy too.
snow drifts down around you, soft and quiet, and everything feels right—tangled in the snow, pressed together, hearts still racing from laughter and relief, you realize why this moment will linger in your memory.
and somehow, in the midst of it all, your world had changed to a different kind of blue than the one you’d known before.
now, it was only the blue of his eyes that mattered.
nerdjo isnt one to openly express feelings for someone let alone romantic ones but there’s no need for silly words when his “subtle” actions say it all
nerdjo who is always one of the first people in class just manages to save a seat right next to him which is the second best seat in the whole classroom
nerdjo who lets you read his most treasured and rare comics that he doesn’t dare let anyone else touch not even his best friend suguru
nerdjo who gets teased by suguru when he notices that your the only girl he follows on instagram
nerdjo who would gladly help you with your homework or even do it for you if you asked him he’s so desperate for the 5 minutes of interaction you two would have
nerdjo who is a totally geek when you compliment his comic book shelf he gets so flustered and red but “trys” to play it cool
nerdjo who lets you play study music and when you mention a song that’s your favorite when he gets home he starts listening to it and adding it to his playlist
nerdjo who knew he liked you when suguru pointed out that he started saying “we” instead of “i” and always having you in mind when making future plans
nerdjo who literally yearns for you so badly he practices ways to confess to you even though he never will
nerdjo who gets super embarrassed when suguru catches him rehearsing a confession and completely denies everything
nerdjo who’s palms are always sweaty when he’s around you from all the nerves and he is super on edge when he’s with you and shy
nerdjo who finally gets the courage (and enough bugging from geto) to finally ask you out and he is on cloud 9 after he does since he finally has the one he’s always wanted 
more like this
authors note - hi everyone i’m sorry i’ve kinda been on a hiatus but im back and ready for more writing!! i hope you all like this one it was based off a submission and sorry if it kinda got sidetracked track at the end!!!
𖤓 Pairings: Cowboy!Gojo x f!reader
𖤓 Content warnings + tags: : 18+ MDNI, childhood-friends-to-lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, (mentions of) virginity loss, alcohol use and partying, family drama, miscommunication, themes of self-worth and identity
wc — 97k words
𖤓 Synopsis: After getting expelled from college for one reckless mistake too many, you're shipped off to spend the summer with your estranged grandparents on their remote horse ranch—a place you haven’t set foot on since you were a kid. You expected boredom, chores, and a long, hot summer of shame. What you didn’t expect? The tall, cocky ranch-hand who remembers you all too well…and isn't about to let you forget your roots.
Prologue | Ranch Roads and Reunions
Still Waters, Beneath the Surface | A Harvest of Firsts
Under the Porch Light | Something Like Home
Ashes in the Grass | Torn at the Seams | Sweeter Than Honey
A Little Southern Hospitality | After the Dust Settles
Still Here | Things Left Unsaid
More Than One Way Home | Where Your Heart Pulls You
PAIRINGS: outlaw!gojo satoru x fem!reader | WC: 5k
SUMMARY: you live a nice, yet hard-working life as a rancher's daughter - and you expect that it will continue to be so until a certain gang of outlaws shows up at your doorstep.
WARNINGS: story takes place in wild west, albeit it may not be fully accurate to how it was back then. kidnaping, angst, forced labor, some characters may act slightly ooc at times, murder, mentions of death, blood and violence.
A/N: i hope nobody has done this before help. uhm, theres more notes at the end of the chapter so i wont be saying a lot here buuut dont worry, ill still be doing my batfam x reader this is jst a side obsession i have to feed rn or else i wont be able to focus.
you knew the heat would kill the tomatoes before august, but you kept hauling the water buckets anyway.
that was just how life was.
for you, at least. not for those snobby rich folk down the road that didn’t have to worry ‘bout money a day in their life.
you suppose, life on the perimeter of the territory didn’t leave room for whole lot of laziness. you were the oldest, so while your pa was out sweating over a herd of cattle the bank technically owned (albeit the man kept insisting it wasn't actually like that - you just sighed and gave him the benefit of doubt), and your ma was trying to keep the toddlers from swallowing dirt, you did the heavy lifting. you hadn’t got no brother to take up the hard and dirty work to let you leisure and dally around - to keep you real sweet and unhardened by the world and maybe a little naive to the ways of life like most men would want their daughters to be.
naively happy. innocently happy.
your knuckles seemed to be permanently stained gray from scrubbing denim on the washboard and your back more often than not ached by noon.
it was a dull, predictable kind of tired, but it was yours. you loved your family enough to bear with it.
but the dust kicked up on the horizon.
they came for you in the middle of the day. whole lot of shameless bastards they are - better men would at least wait for nightfall, would at least try and hide their intentions behind the cloak of darkness and come during the blind man's hour. not them though. they kicked the door in when your family was just about ready to eat lunch, the food still steaming and your sweet ma still in her apron.
poor little you didn’t even have time to let out a yelp.
oh god, pa. get up, please get up.
one outlaw smashed his rifle butt into your pa's temple and your old man was out like a light, still clutching the knife he'd grabbed to defend you in a poor, desperate attempt. two others grabbed your mother and shoved her into the pantry, blocking the door with a tipped over cupboard.
you ran to get your siblings and then the sheriff - or tried to at least. they were crowded into your kitchen, laughing as you turned from one to the other.
"no way out, lady."
"too late to run now, shoulda started before we even got here if you wanted to get away."
"look at her all scared. well ain't it just adorable?"
with near identical duster coats and bandanas tied across their faces (although one had their bandana or what that was tied around his eyes…?), you couldn't tell them fully apart. all you could tell was the distinct differences in their heir color - one having white, the other having some shade of pinkish red and the last one having short black hair. it didn’t matter though, they were dirty, rotten bastards. all of them. they were closing in on you, a little at a time. you tried to fight, to pull away when one of them grabbed you. but they were dust-bitten outlaws and you were just a rancher's daughter. it wasn't even a struggle for them.
the one with pinkish red one slammed you down on the kitchen table to keep you in place.
your mama's good jug which she had poured milk in tumbled off and shattered on the floor. that was what you focused on for a second as the guy held you down.
not the wedding gift. anything but that - it was so dear to your ma, she would be devastated seeing that. the shards of blue and white ceramic in the puddle of milk. your chest began heaving as you struggled against the brute's grip.
while you were pinned, the tallest outlaw strolled over to your father's limp body. he had stark white hair peeking out from beneath his hat, and a thick black bandana tied tightly over his eyes - you would have wondered why he wears it that way and how he even sees if it wasn’t for you desperately tryna get out of the pink haired one's hold. he looked entirely too relaxed for a man standing in a home he ruined. with an annoyed whine, the white-haired man bent down, grabbed your pa by his hair, and yanked his head around roughly.
“heeey, wake up," the guy grumbled, shaking your pa's head back and forth. "ain't no way you're actually weak enough to get knocked out from just that. come on, old man. don't play dead on me now, its time for business.”
the black haired one sighed as he stood behind him. “quit playing, we got business.”
the white haired one doesn’t turn to even spare him a glance, poking your pa's cheek now. “i am doing business.”
the pink-haired one holding you down groaned in sheer annoyance, his boots shifting on the floorboards. "satoru, just tie him up and take the damn bastard or shoot 'em so we can get moving. we ain't got all damn day for you to play around."
shoot him? oh god, no. they're gonna kill him right here. they were gonna kill your pa.
panic surged through you, hotter than the desert sun. you stopped thrashing against the table for a split second, drawing in enough breath to scream over the sound of your mother's muffled crying from the pantry.
"don't! please, don't shoot him!" your voice cracked, and you don’t think you've ever heard yourself sound so desperate before. you glared up at the white-haired man, tears of anger blurring your vision. "why are you doing this? what do you even want from us? we ain't got nothing as you can see!"
the white-haired man stopped shaking your pa's hair. he slowly let the old man's head drop back to the floor and turned his face toward you with a grin. even with the bandana covering his eyes, you could feel the weight of his stare pressing down on you, judging.
"well, now," he purred, taking a step toward the counter. "looks like the little bird's got a voice after all."
the white-haired man took his sweet time walking over, his boots clicking against the floorboards before he leaned his hip against the very counter the brute held you on. he looked down at you seemingly completely unbothered by your terror.
the brute just let out another heavy groan from behind you, his grip tightening on your shoulders as if to say he was sick to death of the man's theater, but he didn't say a word to stop him. despite all their complaining, nobody had tried to stop him.
"ain't got nothing, you say?" the white haired man asked, tilting his head. the black cloth over his eyes didn't hide the amusement you could tell he was feeling. "now, that's just a flat-out lie, sweetheart. or maybe you're just blind."
"i'm not lying!" you choked out, the wood of the counter scraping your cheek as you tried to look him dead in the face. "we're just ranchers. we don't have gold! we ain’t got nothin for scum like you!"
the white-haired man didn't twitch at the insult, the bastard thought it to be funny considering how he chuckled so loudly that it made your skin crawl, before he eventually pushed himself off the counter. he turned his back on you like you weren't even a threat, wanderin’ lazy-like around your kitchen.
all you could do was helplessly watched him through a blur of tears as he began to poke through your life like it wasn’t nothing special. he stopped by the mantle, his long fingers trailin’ over the dusty little family photograph your ma had saved from the old country, the one she was so proud to put up. he moved to the window, idly pinchin’ the fabric of the curtains - curtains you'd spent three nights patchin’ up by the light of a dyin’ candle just to keep the draft out for your baby siblings who always complained about sun ray's peeking through so early in the morning. then he started openin’ the cupboards. click, clack. one after the other, starin’ at the half-empty shelves, the meager tins of flour and the near-bare lard jars.
he let out a whistle that echoed through the house.
"well, now," the white-haired man mused, swingin’ a cupboard door shut with a soft thud. "either your old man was spinnin’ me a whole web of lies, or he's just a whole lot worse at ranchin’ than i thought he was. standard's real low around these parts, ain't it?"
your head spun. worse at ranchin’ than he thought? why he'd talk about your pa that way? he talked about your old man like he sat at his table before, like he knew the exact size of the herd you were supposed to have. it didn't make a lick of sense, your pa was an honest man! he didn't run with thieves, ‘specially such scummy ones.
"who are you?" you demanded, your voice tremblin’ but loud enough to be clear. "how do you know my pa? explain it to me, goddamn it!"
the white-haired man's attention snapped back to you in a second. he strolled back across the kitchen, his towerin’ frame castin’ a long shadow that swallowed you whole where you lay pinned under the brute's weight. the easy-going smirk vanished from his face, replaced by something that made him look every bit the monster you're sure he was.
"a debt is owed, darlin'," the white-haired man said, his voice droppin’ into a dangerous register. "a real long one at that. your pa owes me a mountain of money that he hadn't paid back in years. every winter it's the same story. 'i'm a good rancher makin’ good money, satoru, it'll come soon, just give me till the spring.' well, spring came and went, and my pockets are still pretty light." he mimicked your pa's voice far too theatrically.
he leaned down, his face inches from yours and you could smell him. he smelled…
…surprisingly fresh. surprisingly a whole lot like soap and cakes and sugar. maybe even a tad bit like peaches.
you barely registered the fact that your pa made a deal with a damn outlaw and borrowed money from 'em, you had to keep yourselves alive somehow.
"so i'm here to take what's mine. and since he ain't got the coin, i reckon i'll just have to take it out of his hide."
before you could even get a word past the lump in your throat, another voice did so before you.
"satoru. we gotta get goin’."
you blinked through the tears, realized the black-haired one had moved away from the door and was now standin’ right by the window, peeking through a gap in the patched curtains. you’d been so fixated on the white-haired man - on satoru, as he’d called himself and gotten called - that you hadn't even heard the him move.
"camp’s waitin’," the black-haired one muttered, his eyes scanin’ the dusty road outside. "ain't too good to stay in such an place for too long. the law might get wind."
the brute let out a harsh bark of a laugh from above you. "finally. thought we’d be rotting in this shack forever."
satoru just sighed, a totally fake, disappointed sound - you don't think you've ever seen a more theatrical man. he leaned down, and before you could flinch, his leather-gloved hand came down on your head, rufflin’ your hair like you were some stray dog he’d found on the trail. "well, duty calls, darlin'."
he pulled his hand away and gave you a mock wave. "bye-bye now. don't you worry none, you’ll probably see your pa again in a few years. i mean, if he survives the canyon work, that is." he shrugged his big shoulders, lettin’ out a little giggle that made your stomach drop.
survives?
satoru turned his back on you, noddin’ to the black-haired one. the two of them hauled your limp, unconscious pa off the floor, rough as sack of potatoes, and took the thick hemp ropes off their belt and started binding his wrists. they stuffed a dirty rag into his mouth, gaggin' him tight.
fuck, fuck fuck. panic was all you could feel as you thrashed against the table again, but the brute didn't even sweat, keeping you pinned flat. think, goddamn it, think. if they took your pa, your family was dead. the bank owned the land, the cattle, the house - everything was in his name and they sure as hell wouldn’t hand it over to your ma, and even then, the woman’s less clueless than your old man! a woman and three toddlers couldn't run a failing cattle ranch alone. the bankers would ride out here by next month and toss your ma and the kids into the dirt without a second thought. they needed him. they couldn't survive without him even if he was a little feather headed.
you couldn't let them take him, also because he was your pa.
"wait!" you screamed, your voice crackin’ so loud it rattled the remaining dishes. "take me! take me in his stead!"
the kitchen went dead quiet, you swear you could hear damn crickets chirping.
satoru froze, half-bent over your father's tied-up boots. he slowly turned his head toward you, his jaw slightly slack. for a second, his face looked completely shocked - genuine, real shock. but then, that goddamn smirk crawled right back onto his mouth.
he let out a dramatic gasp, straight-up feigning shame as he crossed his arms over his chest, playfully hiding himself like a schoolgirl caught out of uniform.
"my, my," satoru gasped, his voice going all high and mock-offended. "i mean, i know i’m incredibly, spectacularly handsome, darlin’, but ain't it a little bold to just throw yourself at a man like that? right in front of your kin, too?” he said ‘bashfully’, slightly turning himself away from you. “i'll have you know i'm as holy and pure as the virgin mary herself."
you just stared at him, completely bewildered. is this bastard insane? there was blood on his boots, a gun on his hip, your family was ruined, and he was standing there making jokes about his face!
the black-haired one didn't look amused either. he just gave satoru a look of pure disgust, shakin’ his head as he turned on his heel and walked right out the busted front door.
the brute seemed to have hit his limit, too. he let out a curse under his breath and abruptly let go of you, shoving himself away from the table. the sudden loss of pressure made your whole body ache, your ribs throbbing where they’d been crushed against the wood.
"harry up, satoru," the brute growled, checkin' the cylinders on his revolver as he moved toward the exit. "i’ll get the horses ready and wait outside. don't take all damn day."
once the brute cleared out, you pushed yourself up on your shaky elbows, your face burning with a mix of fury and terror. "you're a creep," you hissed at the white-haired man, your voice shakin’. "a total pervert."
satoru just tilted his head, his grin widenin’ like he enjoyed the tongue-lashing.
a cold chill ran down your spine… maybe you should shut up. you're acting like a damn idiot, what’re you doing, angering him? he can still shoot pa. he could shoot you. you swallowed your pride, squeezin' your eyes shut for a brief second before locking your gaze back onto the black cloth over his eyes. you had to double down. it was the only way, wasn’t it?
"i mean it," you said, your voice steadier now, forcing the desperation out. "take me instead of him. i can cook and i can clean the camp, i… i can do the laundry, and i know basic first aid. i can even patch up bullet holes and mix poultices. i'm useful! my pa is old and slow - he'll just slow your gang down on the trail. take me."
the mock-offended posture he had a second ago melted off him in an instant. satoru stood tall, his broad shoulders squared as he looked down at you.
the silence that stretched between you in that dusty kitchen was thick enough to choke on and a part of you wished you would, so you wouldn’t have to deal with this. this situation. even with that black rag tied over his eyes, you could feel him starin’ holes right through you, weighin' your worth, testin' your mettle.
the easy-goin' man he feigned to be was gone; this is what an outlaw is supposed to be like, every bit as cold and deadly and cruel as the rumors say ‘em to be.
"that what you truly want, darlin'?" he asked. his voice wasn't high or playful no more.
your throat felt like it was full of desert sand. your hands slightly trembled against the wood of the counter, your fingers twitchin'. you tried to get a word out, to spit a defiant yes right into his face, but your voice just wouldn't come. you had to settle for a firm, nod of your head.
satoru stared a second longer before he suddenly turned away, dismissin’ you like the choice was already made. he strode back over to your pa's limp form, bent down, and sliced the thick hemp ropes with a quick flick of his pocket knife. he yanked the dirty gag out of the old man's mouth and tossed it to the floor.
"reckon the trade's made, then," satoru murmured, clearin' his throat as he stood back up. "you’ll be payin' your father's debts off in labor. let's see if you're half as useful as you claim."
before you could even process it, his leather-gloved hand wrapped around your wrist like an iron manacle. he yanked you onto your sole feet, the sudden movement makin' your bruised ribs protest. he didn't seem to care. he pulled you right along behind him, your boots scrapin' against the wood as he led you toward the busted front door.
as you were dragged out, your heart ached fiercely for your poor ma. you could still hear her wailin' from inside the pantry, albeit it had quieted down to a low, ragged sobbing that broke what little spirit you had left. you could only hope your younger siblings would wake up from their afternoon nap soon - or whatever it was they were doing in the back room that they couldn’t hear all the commotion - and notice the quiet, find her, and free her. or maybe your pa would stir first. tears pricked your eyes as you thought of how your father would react when he finally woke up and found you gone. you thought of your ma and the little ones, how upset and broken they’d all be when they realized what you’d done.
the blinding glare of the midday sun hit you as satoru pulled you out onto the porch. down in the dirt yard, the brute and the black-haired one turned their heads. the brute raised his eyebrows slightly at the sight of you bein’ dragged along, clearly surprised the boss had actually taken you, but not questioning his judgment.
they were standin’ with three of the most magnificent creatures you’d ever laid eyes on. for a gang of cold-blooded thieves, their stock was immaculate. there was one majestic, deep brown horse twitchin' its ears, one absolutely beautiful and massive black steed that looked like a shadow come to life, and one striking white horse covered in dark spots. every single one of them was exceptionally beautiful, coat gleamin’ in the heat, and clearly well taken care of. even better than the horses in your family’s stall, you think
"you actually changin' the terms, satoru?" the brute grunted, tossin' the reins of the brown horse over its neck. "thought we were here for the old man."
"the girl volunteered," the black-haired one muttered from atop the spotted white horse, his voice flat as he adjusted his hat. he probably overheard your conversation with satoru considering there wasn’t much blocking the noise.. the door was busted down afterall. "said she’s useful. means less dead weight for us to carry if she can actually cook."
"ain't that the truth," satoru chirped, his fake charm returning in a flash. he led you straight toward that massive black steed - his horse. "besides, look at her. she’s got a lot more fire in her than that old codger."
before you could even guess his next move, satoru caught you by the waist. to your absolute surprise, he hoisted you straight up in the air with a little ‘huup!’ like you weighed nothing at all, settlin' you down sideways right onto the front of his saddle.
"hey-!" you started, but he just patted your knee, a grin stretchin' across his hidden face.
"can't be trustin' you with takin' one of the horses from your family's stall, darlin'," satoru said, checking the stirrups. "considerin' you could just ride off into the brush the second we turn our backs. not that i think you'd actually do that, mind you. you’d just doom your pa if you ran. but a good lawman - or a good outlaw - is always sure."
you sat uncomfortably, your thighs pressed against the hard leather of the saddle horn, your hands clutched tight to stay balanced. a second later, the saddle creaked as satoru swung his long leg over the back, mountin' the massive horse right behind you. his chest pressed flush against your back, his long arms comin' around either side of your waist to grip the thick leather reins. you were completely caged in by hard-earned muscle and the scent of trail dust.
the brute and the black-haired one spurred their mounts, and satoru followed right behind, his massive black steed clickin’ its hooves against the earth. as the horses broke into a steady trot, heading straight toward the red canyons on the horizon, you didn't look back. you couldn't bear to see the dust risin' over your ruined home.
…
the horses ate up the miles at a bone-jarring pace, headin' deeper into the foothills where the brush turned to rock. the midday heat was brutal, the sun heavy on your neck (although some of it was blocked by satoru's massive frame), but you just sat there meekly. you didn't say a word and kept your hands tucked into your lap, your eyes fixed on the twitch of the black steed's ears, tryin’ your best not to lean back against satoru’s chest. but every tilt of the trail shifted your weight, and his arm stayed locked around your waist like a iron strap, keepin' you from slippin' off.
after an hour of nothing but the sound of creakin' leather and hooves against dry dirt, they took off their bandanas - well, the brute and the black haired one at least. satoru kept his covering his eyes. you were surprised to see that both the brute and the black haired one had tattoo's - the brute more so than the black haired one considering he has most of his face done and the other only one singular tattoo across his nose like a scar. soon enough, the men started talkin’ over the wind.
"suguru’s gonna have a fit when we ride in without the coin," the brute grunted, pullin' his hat down to block the glare.
"let him pace," satoru chimed in from behind you, his voice vibrating right through your spine. he sounded completely cheerful, like they were just comin' back from a sunday social. " ‘sides, suguru knows the old man didn't have a red cent. besides, i brought back a worker. that's an investment, ain't it, choso?"
the black-haired one - choso - didn't look back from his spotted horse. "suguru ain't the problem. it's nobara. that girl’s probably goin’ to nag at us the second she sees we brought a hostage instead of supplies. she’s been sour since the flour ran low."
"nobara nags at everyone," the brute muttered, spittin' a stream of dark tobacco juice into the dirt. "if she starts squawkin' at me, i’ll tell her to take it up with yuji. speaking of - where’s our brother been anyway? didn't see him since we went out to ride. if he didn't finish the wood line like he was told, i'm clip-ping his ears."
"yuji was helpin' megumi with the horses when we left," choso said, his voice soft but carrying a strange, protective edge. "he's a good boy. don't go layin' a hand on him, sukuna. i told you about that."
you listened to them trade words, your mind workin' through the exhaustion. sukuna. so that was the brute’s name. and choso was the black-haired one. you glanced between them, catchin' the line of their jaws and the way they both held their reins. our brother. brother. you wouldn't have guessed it from the way the brute snarled at everything that breathed, but maybe there was a resemblance. and there were more of them waitin', too. a woman named nobara, someone named suguru, and a couple of boys named yuji and megumi. an entire damn gang hidden away in the canyons.
"hear that, darlin'?" satoru murmured, leanin' down just enough so his breath tickled the shell of your ear. "you'll be sooo popular with everyone. nobara’s a real spitfire, but i reckon you two will get along just fine once she realizes you can scrub a pot."
you didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply. you squeezed your eyes shut, your body achin' from the stiff saddle, and prayed the trail would end soon.
A/N: OKAY THATS IT W UHH PT1. honestly been getting a lot into gojo satoru x reader and rdr2 so i just haaadd to write an outlaw!gojo… im not sure how many parts this will have considering im still gonna be posting and writing scream, but i really like the concept i have for this fic. albeit im really unsure if i did their characterization justice esp gojo's. 🥹 anyhow lmk if you want me to continue this or naaahhh. to be added to the taglist 4 this jst like and comment ✌️
titsay
gracieabrams
yousharknotpass
2087
