mariia

just translating my fics here (ru/eng) i love satoru so much

[lirikanori]

— DOUBLE BLIND ┆ fratjo x y/n x nerdjo

𑣲summary: one crazy college party turned your life completely upside down. you were sure you did the right thing and went unnoticed while panicking to save someone else's ass by flushing the evidence down the toilet. right until they shoved the accusations straight into your face, forcing you to act.

pt 1.

a/n: just a quick heads-up about the gojo twins in this story: i couldn't decide how to split them at first, so sato is fratjo and toru is nerdjo. pls, go easy on me. i’m honestly so exhausted after writing this chapter. i've been plotting this whole story for months and struggled so much to put everything together without giving away too many spoilers. any feedback or likes mean the world to me 🖤

warnings: DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. this story belongs to me, and i do not give permission to share it on other platforms, websites, or apps without my explicit consent. plagiarism will not be tolerated.

overall story warnings: dark themes, heavily implied toxic dynamic, mind games, psychological manipulation, and future explicit nsfw/smut content. proceed with caution. individual tags will be updated per chapter. word count: 1,6k

enjoy ♡

── ☆ ──

an unscheduled break, which had caught all the students by surprise the day before, could easily have been the highlight of your recent months. if only it weren't for the reason hiding in the shadows behind the college walls—a secret kept strictly on a need-to-know basis. the administration was frantically trying to hush up whatever had happened just a few days ago.

there was a new face at the dorm entrance—by the look of it, a new security guard had been hired. he was a looming, imposing figure, the brim of his cap pulled down low, yet his eyes bored into you more intensely than any scanner. he tracked every single person who dared to take a step toward the threshold, as if searching for something. or someone.

right now, he was the least of your concerns.

strangely enough, the echo of your own footsteps down the hallway rang with a painful sharpness. it was far too quiet, far too empty: no posters left on the walls, no potted plants tucked into the corners, no cozy couches in the lounge area. everything had been stripped away.

skipping every other step, you headed up the stairs, pausing for a moment or two on your favorite landing between the second and third floors. sunbeams filtered through the leaves in scattered patches, lighting up the space and warming your face. you just wanted to freeze time right here and think about absolutely nothing.

suddenly, your heart gave a violent thud, briefly deafening you to the sounds around you. inside, it felt as if a bottle had shattered, releasing a tidal wave of panic. the liquid slowly spilled across your chest, clinging to your lungs, making it impossible to catch a proper breath, while the shards of glass pierced your ribs. the very feeling you tried to suppress, avoid, and forget, time and time again, was now flooding your throat. after all, sooner or later, the truth was bound to come out. subconsciously, you feared it every single second.

you had made plenty of mistakes throughout your life. was this just another one? or was there a chance it had become your salvation? salvation for all of you?

you swallowed hard, peeling your back off the sun-warmed wall of the landing, and forced your legs to move forward. your room greeted you with a faint creak. the gray curtains stirred from a draft. you quickly stepped inside, locking the door from the inside. your gaze drifted aimlessly across the corners, trying to anchor onto anything at all, but finally froze by the desk. resting right over your economics notebook, as if staring straight into your soul, lay a fresh polaroid picture.

your heart did that suffocating flip again. you rushed to the desk, your trembling hands grabbing the glossy print, which showed a close-up of the edge of a sink, tile, a toilet, and the dark shadow of your own shoulder. and most importantly—your hand. holding white powder in your palm.

you stared at the photo for a few seconds, turning it over under the dim light from the window, then blinked rapidly, as if hoping it would vanish. the paper clung nastily to your fingers. sweat-slicked prints grew clearer on the gloss, bleeding into the image, which was already blurry from the harsh flash: the center of the frame looked blown out, while the edges bled into darker shadows.

the panic that had been leaking in droplets before now surged like a tsunami. no face was visible in the picture, but that damn engraved bracelet on your wrist was known by the entire floor. someone had been standing right behind you in that bathroom stall. someone had seen everything you did. and that someone was aiming a gun right at the back of your head now.

you had to act fast. tossing the print back onto the desk, you bolted out of the room, moving down the same empty hallway, only this time the walls felt narrower, and a hundred eyes seemed to stare from every single crack, stealing your breath away.

your fingers were shaking, making everything twice as hard. your nails clawed desperately at the metal clasp, trying to strip the jewelry off, but it seemed to cling to your skin for dear life. sweat dripped down your back, your body temperature spiked mercilessly, and the first tears were about to spill down your cheeks.

you threw open the door to the communal bathroom, stepped into the very last stall, and flung the bracelet into the water with all your might. you flushed three times. just to be safe.

only then did your pulse settle slightly, smoothing out and allowing you to take your first full breath. you stood by the sink, cupping cold water in your hands to cool your face. the past few days had completely wrecked your nerves. the police were still quiet, figuring things out, but right now, it felt like the bullet was already heading straight for your head. in slow motion.

“cool trinket,”

you snapped your gaze up to the mirror in front of you. arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the doorframe, there stood gojo. no, not the gojo who was singing drunken songs on the hood of a car three days ago and loved bothering you with his loose, slurred nonsense. the other gojo. sharp, perceptive, quiet, and calculating, yet with a wicked tongue. toru.

“our pipes aren't exactly new, aren't you worried it might get stuck? we'd have to call a plumber and all that...” he added mockingly. bastard.

your breath caught in your throat. he was playing with you.

your heart started racing all over again. instead of showing your fear, you turned around, trying to force a semblance of a smirk to defend yourself. it turned out pretty pathetic—your lips barely twitched.

you sharply ripped two paper towels from the dispenser on the wall, desperately hiding how badly your hands were shaking.

“it won't,” your voice failed, coming out quieter than you would have liked. you wiped your palms and took a step toward the exit, hoping to slip right past him. “and this is the women's restroom, rep.”

he didn't smell like alcohol. not just right now—in fact, he never smelled the way most of the students here did. the gojo brothers were as different as night and day, but it didn't change the hard truth. they were cut from the exact same cloth. there was definitely something they shared, though this one happened to be wrapped in a sharp, flawlessly ironed suit.

toru didn't budge, still completely blocking the doorway.

“you know...” his hand slid lazily into his trouser pocket. “the new guard is incredibly thorough. but as a model rep, i'm helping the administration sort through the students. picking out those who'll be questioned by the police first, and those who can be neatly covered for.”

his words dragged out slowly, like thick syrup, but simultaneously felt like a whirlpool dragging your life down to the very bottom. he was tightening the noose around your neck, but he was doing it with a skillful, polished politeness.

“how interesting.” you crumpled the wet paper towels into a tight ball and tossed them into the bin with perfect accuracy, taking another step forward. you glared right at him, not giving a damn that your knees were shaking. “except it seems to me that "model reps" don't stalk girls in the restrooms to blackmail them with photos. if you put me on that blacklist, i’ll have to tell everyone about your strange little hobby. who do you think they'll believe first?”

toru didn't move an inch, didn't even flinch—he actually offered you a smirk. your bluff might have worked on anyone else. but not on him. every adult in this college absolutely adored him, trusted him blindly, and forgave him for absolutely everything. the perfect student, the pride of the department, an example for the entire year. and you… you were just a sketchy entry in his draft list, crossed out over and over with layers of heavy black ink.

unlike his brother, sato was predictable. he filled the space around him with noise, fun, and laughter. he was like fireworks—it was easy to breathe around him because his motives were always out in the open. toru was different. they say twins are inseparable by nature, complementing each other into one whole. looks like somewhere along the line, the gojo brothers had their worldviews drift entirely apart. or maybe they were just born as an anomaly from the start.

“go ahead and try.” toru wasn't even fazed by your threat. he took one short step forward, forcing you to instinctively back up until your lower back hit the cold porcelain of the sink. “then i have a counter-question for you: whose word do you think carries more weight? the top student of the year... or a girl who's been having an awful lot of business with the toilet lately?”

he leaned in closer—so close you could catch the citrus scent of his breath.

“you've got good reflexes, by the way. sato would appreciate that kind of loyalty,” he whispered quietly. “but that doesn't mean you're safe now, you know?”

toru pulled away just as suddenly as he had approached. he lightly adjusted the glasses on his nose, his calm gaze instantly snapping back into place, and headed for the exit. right at the door, he paused for a split second without turning around and tossed a teasing line over his shoulder:

“see you at lecture tomorrow. try to get some color back into your face by morning.”

the door clicked shut behind him with a quiet thud.

only now, in the ringing silence, did you begin to feel the strength draining from your body. your knees buckled, and you leaned your hand against the wall. how stupid. you had saved sato from prison, did everything humanly possible, but in the end, you didn't get caught by the police—you fell right into the clutches of his twin brother.

── ☆ ──

[lirikanori]

— DOCTOR GOJO ┆ satoru gojo being ur long-time genius doctor friend who offers to do ur urgent gynecologist check-up...

pt.1

a/n: lol templates and plot aside i would literally jump into that chair with zero questions asked like satoru please do ur worst 😽 let me know if u want part 2 (nsfw) with the actual exam!!

[lirikanori]

⌗ light angst w caleb

༺ ♡ ༻

“mine told me she’s done waiting. said what’s the point of having a boyfriend who only comes home on holidays,” one of the guys shared, forcing a smile that couldn't quite hide the raw sadness in his voice.

the other tried to cheer him up, tossing out a sympathetic “you’ll find the one, man,” but the conversation fell flat anyway.

silence settled in. the guys looked deflated, letting their eyes wander aimlessly around the room. each was desperately trying to latch onto a new topic. what else was there to talk about for guys locked up on a floating island high up in the sky, while their hometown was reduced to a cluster of distant, twinkling dots? they were all exhausted. they just wanted something simple.

“what about you, caleb? got a girl?”

a simple trick: deflect to the most successful guy in the group to lighten the mood.

the question hung in the air. caleb looked up calmly from his phone, giving the guys his full attention. with a soft click, the screen went dark, and he dropped the device onto the pillow by his knees.

“nah, i don't have anyone.”

“oh, come off it! you think we don't notice the way you’re always grinning at your phone?” one of them blurted out, a little too loudly. bad move.

caleb paused, running his tongue over his dry lips.

“that’s just the little one, texting nonsense...”

“ah, your little sister.” the guy nodded understandingly.

the tension melted away, scattering like dandelion seeds. the guys quietly drifted back into conversation, sharing warm memories that kept them going.

little sister. the word stung, cut, and tore him apart, making his heart stutter before racing anew. he had trapped himself in this cage. he was the one who promised to protect you. and he was the one who chose never to cross that line.

as long as he could keep you safe and stay by your side, he was ready to swallow his own pain.

caleb unlocked his phone again—you were online. his fingers hovered aimlessly over the keyboard for a few seconds. then, he forced out a simple, “brotherly” message:

“sweet dreams, pipsqueak.”

༺ ♡ ༻

[lirikanori]

⌗ fluff w satoru gojo

༺ ♡ ༻

at the beginning, you couldn’t breathe without each other. a kind of teenage tenderness, almost aggressive in how insatiable it was—always holding hands, sleeping tangled together, lying pressed close for hours, skin to skin, until your arm went numb and your foreheads grew damp.

for a lot of people, that fades with time. what once felt natural—necessary, even—to lie down together, to intertwine and fall asleep in each other’s arms becomes… optional. someone moves to another room because the other “breathes too loudly,” someone turns their back, someone just grows tired of being so close. it happens. the love stays, but there’s a pull to live a little farther apart.

that’s not how it is for you.

you slipped into the bedroom a little later, on your toes. the hallway light had long gone out, and one side of the bed was already warm. satoru seemed to be asleep… but the moment you climbed in, it was like he started breathing again—like there hadn’t been any air in the room before you.

eyes still closed, lazy but certain, he wrapped his arms around you—pulling you in, pressing close, like he’d been waiting for it.

“you were going to lie down without me?” he murmured, soft, holding back a yawn.

“you weren’t asleep..?”

“i can tell when you’re not beside me. even simple things—like sleeping—are harder without you.”

with a smile, you pressed your forehead to his smooth cheek, while his legs, as always, hooked around yours. one of his hands rested on your waist, the other tucked under the pillow—just like always. it’s been years, and you still fall asleep the same way you did in your first month together.

you’re both almost thirty now. you’ve grown up, but that habit of “smothering” each other in your sleep never went away.

and maybe that’s for the best.

༺ ♡ ༻

[lirikanori]

⌗ fluff w suguru geto

༺ ♡ ༻

the mirrored insides of the fitting room suguru had all but dragged you into greeted you with unexpected space and comfort. besides a convenient rack, there was a modest little couch and a couple of small shelves—meant, presumably, for smaller personal belongings.

you were never fond of fitting rooms, whether in expensive boutiques or trendy mass markets. the lighting in them always seemed designed to highlight everything you usually tried not to look at. and now… he was going to see you like this too.

your relationship with geto had only just begun, but suguru had long wanted to spoil you at his own expense—the mere thought of making you happy like this stirred something akin to pride in his chest.

“can you help me?” you called out, turning your back to him.

without a word, suguru gently pulled the zipper of your blouse down, then hooked a finger under the loop of the top button. his gaze brushed your reflection in the mirror—and before you could react, your arms came up to cover your chest, not wanting him to stare at the suddenly sheer fabric. your eyes met his, your brows knitting into a frown.

“i’m not looking, i’m not looking,” he assured you, shutting his eyes as if innocent, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips at your adorably annoyed expression.

clicking your tongue, you decided not to waste the opportunity—and while he so nobly “wasn’t looking,” you slipped into the dress you’d prepared beforehand.

“what do you think…?”

“better tell me what you think.” of course, he found you stunning, and was holding back his admiration with effort, but what mattered more to him was what you felt.

hesitantly, you smoothed your hands over the curve of your hips, giving an awkward little spin in front of your reflection.

“maybe the color isn’t mine?”

“it is. me too.”

you couldn’t help but smile.

༺ ♡ ༻

[lirikanori]

would they forgive your cheating?

༺ ♡ ༻

satoru gojo no, he definitely wouldn’t. for satoru, trust is a rare luxury—something he grants only to a chosen few. living in constant isolation, both physical and emotional, he finds it hard to let anyone get close. so cheating would feel like suffocation. outwardly, he’d probably react calmly, never trying to “get even” or ruin your life in return—but he’d erase you from his own, without a second thought.

suguru geto i don’t think so. suguru has always lived with the idea that the world is divided between the “pure” and the “impure.” and if he ever loved you, it means he saw you as one of the first. that’s why he wouldn’t be able to accept it. after that, things would unfold the way they were meant to: he’d turn away from everyone and reshape his view of life and people. he wouldn’t forgive you, but he wouldn’t be able to live without the memory of you either.

kento nanami at first, everything would fall apart—he’s the kind of man who builds relationships like a home, brick by brick. but in time, he’d forgive you. through acceptance. he’d spend a while thinking maybe he’d missed something, failed to see or to hear. yet eventually, he’d let it go. if you two ever crossed paths years later, he’d probably even smile. nanami’s just the kind of person who knows how to let things go.

༺ ♡ ༻

[lirikanori]

⌗ fluff w satoru gojo

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the wind changed its mind again, playfully tangling itself in the pale strands on top of satoru’s head. the salty air had stopped choking with heat by evening, though the sand—tickling his bare feet—still breathed warmth.

waves came in unevenly, leaving behind ribbons of foam on wet grains, every shade of ochre. gojo sat on the shore, knees pulled to his chest, the skin faintly stinging from a reckless overdose of sunlight he wasn’t used to. he looked oddly dull, fingers absently sifting through dry sand that spilled in crumbs over the damp layer beneath.

if you didn’t know him so well, you wouldn’t have noticed a thing, would’ve just walked past. but your chest gave a small, strange ache, and your body sank down beside his almost on its own.

your eyes caught a tiny bug—struggling for dear life on the wet surface of a blue frisbee. you remembered satoru’s recent claim that he’d wanted to help the little creature reach the sea faster. after all, it had been so stubborn, fighting through footprints and craters, that he couldn’t help but feel sorry for something so determined to live.

nice saving attempt.

“you’re such an idiot.”

he looked at you—god, so heartbreakingly—as if begging you to go easy.

of its four thin legs, maybe one and a half remained. you sighed quietly and reached out, brushing your fingers against his palm in silent comfort.

“bugs probably don’t have souls anyway. no point tearing yourself up over them.”

we can’t save everything, no matter how much we want to.

༺ ♡ ༻