My name's Shade. I'm your local retired fanfiction writer, back from the dead! (:
MASTERLIST | Ao3
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☆ summary: Getting Gojo to admit anything is a challenge. Getting him to admit he was in love? You had to be some kind of wizard.
When training ends early and the heat drives everyone into the shade, a shared slushy and a pair of borrowed sunglasses turn into something far more intimate. Between sharp banter and unspoken truths, Gojo finds himself facing the one thing he can’t overpower: his own feelings.
☆ contains: Soft Gojo Satoru, Idiots in Love, Shamelessly Self-Indulgent Fluff, Pining, Quiet Intimacy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort (Light), Feelings™
☆ tag: NA
☆ wc: [2.5K]
Gojo wasn’t a tyrant.
It was hot. Way too hot. Normally he would be training the first years in combat, but with the sweltering summer heat beating down on the training arena, it seemed almost torturous to put those kids through that. And well, a little slacking every now and then was good for the rebellious nature of teenagers. Not because the man was being a lazy bum himself. Absolutely not. It wasn’t like he was the most strict of mentors anyway. Who was gonna tell him not to send them home?
So — Gojo dismissed the three of them, giving his adorable little students the afternoon off and, subsequently, himself as well. With the sun blasting down from the heavens, it was way too hot to continue rolling around in the dirt, throwing punches and kicks at each other. Period.
And he may or may not have some ulterior motives for calling it quits early. Ulterior motives that were currently meandering up to the field with two colorful, frozen slushies in their hands. The icy treat was just what the both of you needed. He felt your presence before you even arrived. You passed by Itadori, Kugisaki and Fushiguro — eyes curiously trailing over the trio with your brow furrowed in playful apprehension.
Damn, that smile on your face was adorable.
"Stopping early?" you asked, holding out one of the cups for Gojo to take. The blue one, obviously.
“Yeah. Got way too hot outside. Though I bet the kids aren’t complaining,” he chuckled, long fingers wrapping around the plastic container. “What’s this?”
"So, in Imperial Japan, royalty often enjoyed a dessert of shaved ice topped with red bean paste, milk, and sugar," you deadpanned. "Nowadays we just call it… shaved ice. But you? Not quite royalty. Definitely a royal pain in my ass. So you get a blue raspberry slushy instead."
A surprised, amused laugh suddenly bubbled up from his chest. “Smartass...” he chuckled before taking a long, obnoxiously loud slurp of his drink. “Pretty damn good, though. Thanks, princess.”
"Call me that again and I'll start swinging," you quipped back. "I think hearing you say that just made my soul leave my body."
“Oh I’m terrified…” he drawled out. “You’re full of shit, by the way. I can confirm your soul is very much still where it should be.”
“How do you even know?” you asked – a hint of humor and disbelief in your voice. “What do you even see with that sweaty rag on your face?”
The stone steps felt warm beneath Gojo’s hand as he took a seat next to you, taking a sip from his treat. It was a normal thing to be curious about and you’d already proven to be extremely nosy when it came to knowing more about Satoru Gojo. That persistent inquisitiveness was part of your charm, even if it meant you were always bombarding him with an endless stream of questions.
The answers were never quite that straightforward to explain either.
Gojo shrugged. “It’s kinda dark. Can’t see much of anything – that’s the point though.”
“That’s not what I meant,” you said and he snickered. Of course you would call out his dismissive response. “You’re not being cute, Gojo – I know you can perceive the world around you in some way, shape or form. Describe it to me.”
There was a prolonged silence as he stared back at you—at least, you thought he was. You could never tell where Gojo was looking, but it always felt like you.
The quiet only made it worse; your voice lingered in his head, looping softly like a tune he couldn’t shake, irritating in the way only familiar things were—and impossible to ignore.
“It’s hard to explain. You’re asking me to describe the wind to someone who’s never felt it, or light to someone who’s never seen it,” Gojo said – an awkward hand scratching the side of his neck. Yeah – he could perceive his surroundings just fine, even with his eyes covered like this. But telling you what it felt like was a herculean task – he didn’t even know where to start.
You smirked. “For a teacher, you really fucking suck at explaining shit.”
“Shut the hell up – that’s rude, you know?” Gojo laughed. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
“You have no respect for me, I swear.”
“Correct.”
You’d never seen a grown man pout so pathetically.
Gojo clicked his tongue. “You’re impossible.”
But there was something thoughtful in the way his head tilted, like he was really considering you now. Then—
“Here.” He reached up, already tugging his sunglasses free. “Try these on. It’ll make more sense.”
There was an unmistakable spark in your eyes when he offered you his sunglasses. The idea alone made your chest flutter.
“Can I really?” you asked, smiling bright and unguarded. “I’d love to.”
Gojo snorted softly. Of course you would.
Your excitement tugged a grin out of him before he could stop it. “Would I have offered if you couldn’t?” he said, holding them out. “Careful—those are expensive.”
You took them from him with exaggerated care, fingers curling around the frames like they might shatter if handled too roughly. Gojo chuckled, warmth bleeding into his voice despite himself.
“Alright,” he went on, watching you closely now. “Tell me—can you still see? What’s it like?”
You slipped the glasses on and peered through the lenses. Dark—almost opaque, but not quite. Your mouth fell open a little as you turned your head, looking up, then down, then side to side, quietly taking it all in.
Gojo didn’t interrupt. He just watched.
The wind stirred softly around you, carrying the faint buzz of mosquitoes over the water and the quiet crunch of shoes along a gravel path. Somewhere in the distance, a woman laughed. Ice dripped from your cup, darkening the stone step beneath it, and even the birds chattering in the nearby tree sounded closer than they should have been.
It was all there at once — a wealth of small, overlooked details you rarely stopped to notice, brushing against your senses until it felt impossible to ignore.
“You feel it, right?” Gojo murmured. “It’s like that… but more.”
His voice was calm, steady as the breeze. He paused, letting the moment settle, then leaned closer. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin — just enough to make you aware of him.
“Whoa,” you breathed. “That’s intense. Really nice, though. Comfortingly… quiet. If that makes sense?” You tipped your head back toward the sky. It was almost completely dark through the lenses — you could barely make anything out.
Gojo smiled, small and knowing. It made perfect sense. The darkness stripped away the noise, leaving only what mattered — sound, movement, presence. He watched your expression shift with quiet fascination, your curiosity unfolding in real time, and found himself fondly aware of how natural this all felt to him.
Gojo was staring again—watching you where you rested on the steps beneath the torii gates.
You pressed the half-empty slushy to your cheek, sighing softly at the cool relief. Sunlight caught on your skin as the breeze passed through, and he watched you sip through the straw like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you weren’t unraveling him just by sitting there.
He didn’t understand it—these feelings. Messy. Unruly. And yet the day carried on as though he hadn’t been indulging you, letting training slide so you could lounge in the shade with a slushy in hand.
He should’ve felt worse about that.
But you were hard to say no to. Infuriatingly so. And if bending a little meant seeing that stupid, pleased smile, then—well. He could live with it.
Sour cherry.
The color stained your lips bright red, and the memory surfaced uninvited—how sweet they’d tasted when he’d kissed you. You hadn’t talked about it yet. Somehow, dissecting it felt wrong. Still, the thought lingered. He’d carried it with him ever since that day at the aquarium, the culmination of years of quiet pining and one reckless, selfish decision he couldn’t bring himself to regret.
And then—
Life moved on.
That was the strangest part. Not the kiss—it had been great. The memory still made his chest tighten, still sent a rush of warmth through him. What unsettled him was how ordinary everything felt afterward. Like the world hadn’t shifted on its axis. Like loving you hadn’t broken anything at all.
He couldn’t decide whether that was comforting or terrifying.
His gaze dipped, just for a second, toward your lips—then lifted back to his glasses perched atop your nose.
“You look good in those.” Gojo’s chest warmed at the sight.
Your head turned toward the sound of his voice. “I'll take your word for it,” you chuckled, squinting through the dark lenses. You could barely make out his outline. Your hand reached out until it smacked into his chest. "There you are, sorry…”
“Klutz. You’re a hazard to yourself and others.”
You scoffed, but your hand lingered on his chest a second longer than necessary. The solid warmth beneath your palm grounded you, steady and unmistakably him. Even through the dark lenses, you could feel Gojo’s attention sharpen—like a wire pulled taut.
“Well?” you prompted, thumb brushing absently against the fabric of his shirt. “You’re staring again.”
He inhaled slowly. Too slowly.
“…Yeah,” Gojo murmured. “Sorry. There’s just something on my mind.”
That earned him a look—head tilted, lips tugging into something curious rather than annoyed. You shifted closer on the step, knees nearly brushing, and for the first time since you’d put on the sunglasses, you lifted your face toward him fully.
“Okay,” you said, quieter now. “Lay it on me.”
The feeling of your eyes staring into his own was almost more than Gojo could handle right now. The words danced on the tip of his tongue — I love you, I love you, I love you — but actually saying it was another beast entirely.
He let out another breath and closed his eyes for a second to gather his bearings. His hands itched to reach for her — to hold her, touch her, pull her close — but he forcibly restrained himself from doing so.
“Just uh—don’t hate me, okay?”
“You’re the most annoying man alive, Gojo,” you said, smiling. “But I could never hate you. Go on.”
Say the words. That was all. And yet it felt impossible. Love—true love—was the most vulnerable thing a person could feel. Now he had to put it into the open. The thought of rejection made his chest pound, ears ringing, hands trembling.
But he’d started now, and you were looking at him with those beautiful eyes, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“I’m in love with you,” Gojo blurted.
He flinched, ready to take it back. But your hands held his. No laugh, no retreat. Shock, maybe—but enough to keep him grounded. He had to keep going.
“I love you,” Gojo said again, the words falling more steadily now. “I’m sorry.”
The apology tacked on to his confession pierced through your skin like a sharp knife, slicing its way toward your guarded heart with ease.
“Why are you – ?”
“It’s weak, I shouldn’t do this to you.”
“No –” Your voice was firm. "I didn't think...you'd ever say it.”
The silence that followed was thick—fragile, like one wrong word might shatter it.
You squeezed his hands, not letting him retreat into himself. Your thumbs brushed over his knuckles, slow and deliberate, as if reminding him he was still here. That you were still here.
“I didn’t think you’d let yourself,” you admitted. “You always act like you’re untouchable. Like nothing ever really gets to you.” Your grip tightened just slightly. “But this?”
You swallowed.
“This feels real.”
Gojo’s breath hitched, sharp and quiet. He didn’t pull away.
“I don’t need you to have everything figured out,” you continued, voice gentler now. “I just needed to know I wasn’t imagining it. That I wasn’t alone in feeling… whatever this is.”
Your forehead rested briefly against his shoulder. Just for a second.
“So don’t apologize,” you said softly. “Not for that.”
Gojo felt tugged in every direction at once. The strongest man alive, he could go wherever he wanted, do as he pleased—no one could tell him ‘no.’ And yet, that kiss had been different. Until that moment, he had decided you shouldn’t be tied to him. He didn’t need anyone else—he was Gojo Satoru. The weight of letting you in, of indulging in more than friendship, had always felt too heavy.
Allowing himself to love you was a burden he hadn’t wanted to carry.
Even now, he overthought everything. There was a part of him he rarely admitted: the man who wanted to fall in love, like everyone else. Loving you—the possibility of losing you as he’d lost someone else—terrified him. No matter how much he pretended otherwise, the kiss had proven it: he was capable of feeling this, and that scared him more than anything. Fighting it didn’t erase it—it only left him restless, unfulfilled, and aware of what he’d been missing his entire life.
But now that it had happened, Gojo realized just how wrong he’d been.
Reality hadn’t shattered. Life hadn’t upended. You still rolled your eyes at his teasing, still hit him with finger guns, still made his chest race when you laughed. The realization that it was okay to have kissed you made everything feel… strange, yet right.
It was okay to be in love.
He wasn’t sure what your relationship was, exactly—but for the first time, he allowed himself to breathe. To be near you without tearing himself apart. How long would this last? Could he protect you from the risks that came with being near him—the same risks that his cursed powers carried? One wrong move could hurt you. One misstep could destroy you. And if that happened, he knew what grief could make him capable of.
Even so, despite it all, he stood there under the torii gates, aware of the vertigo that came each time you smiled, and knew he would navigate this carefully—because loving you, for once, was worth it.
Which was why you really shouldn't be slacking on your training right now.
“Hey—” Gojo nudged your left foot with his own, playful but insistent. Your gaze snapped up, instinctively searching for his eyes beneath the blindfold. “Get up. Now that you’re all cooled off and slushied up, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
You groaned, long and dramatic, and he laughed. “Seriously? C’mon—there’s nothing I can do to get out of this? I’m sweating out here!”
“Nope. Not even that cute face of yours is gonna save you.” He reached out and hauled you to your feet.
You let yourself go limp on purpose, whining as your feet dragged across the stone. Gojo didn’t even blink. You could complain all you wanted—he wasn’t budging. “I’m gonna tear you to shreds,” he added, grinning. “Sorry.”
He wasn’t sorry at all.
The grin on his face was too wide, too bright—like he already knew what was coming next.
You steadied yourself, rolling your shoulders, meeting him where he stood. Whatever this was—whatever the two of you were becoming—it wasn’t something you could take lightly.
He wanted to keep you. You had to be strong.
And this?
This was only the beginning.
If you liked this, please leave a little reply or reblog | MASTERLIST
☆ summary: Getting Gojo to admit anything is a challenge. Getting him to admit he was in love? You had to be some kind of wizard.
When training ends early and the heat drives everyone into the shade, a shared slushy and a pair of borrowed sunglasses turn into something far more intimate. Between sharp banter and unspoken truths, Gojo finds himself facing the one thing he can’t overpower: his own feelings.
☆ contains: Soft Gojo Satoru, Idiots in Love, Shamelessly Self-Indulgent Fluff, Pining, Quiet Intimacy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort (Light), Feelings™
☆ tag: NA
☆ wc: [2.5K]
Gojo wasn’t a tyrant.
It was hot. Way too hot. Normally he would be training the first years in combat, but with the sweltering summer heat beating down on the training arena, it seemed almost torturous to put those kids through that. And well, a little slacking every now and then was good for the rebellious nature of teenagers. Not because the man was being a lazy bum himself. Absolutely not. It wasn’t like he was the most strict of mentors anyway. Who was gonna tell him not to send them home?
So — Gojo dismissed the three of them, giving his adorable little students the afternoon off and, subsequently, himself as well. With the sun blasting down from the heavens, it was way too hot to continue rolling around in the dirt, throwing punches and kicks at each other. Period.
And he may or may not have some ulterior motives for calling it quits early. Ulterior motives that were currently meandering up to the field with two colorful, frozen slushies in their hands. The icy treat was just what the both of you needed. He felt your presence before you even arrived. You passed by Itadori, Kugisaki and Fushiguro — eyes curiously trailing over the trio with your brow furrowed in playful apprehension.
Damn, that smile on your face was adorable.
"Stopping early?" you asked, holding out one of the cups for Gojo to take. The blue one, obviously.
“Yeah. Got way too hot outside. Though I bet the kids aren’t complaining,” he chuckled, long fingers wrapping around the plastic container. “What’s this?”
"So, in Imperial Japan, royalty often enjoyed a dessert of shaved ice topped with red bean paste, milk, and sugar," you deadpanned. "Nowadays we just call it… shaved ice. But you? Not quite royalty. Definitely a royal pain in my ass. So you get a blue raspberry slushy instead."
A surprised, amused laugh suddenly bubbled up from his chest. “Smartass...” he chuckled before taking a long, obnoxiously loud slurp of his drink. “Pretty damn good, though. Thanks, princess.”
"Call me that again and I'll start swinging," you quipped back. "I think hearing you say that just made my soul leave my body."
“Oh I’m terrified…” he drawled out. “You’re full of shit, by the way. I can confirm your soul is very much still where it should be.”
“How do you even know?” you asked – a hint of humor and disbelief in your voice. “What do you even see with that sweaty rag on your face?”
The stone steps felt warm beneath Gojo’s hand as he took a seat next to you, taking a sip from his treat. It was a normal thing to be curious about and you’d already proven to be extremely nosy when it came to knowing more about Satoru Gojo. That persistent inquisitiveness was part of your charm, even if it meant you were always bombarding him with an endless stream of questions.
The answers were never quite that straightforward to explain either.
Gojo shrugged. “It’s kinda dark. Can’t see much of anything – that’s the point though.”
“That’s not what I meant,” you said and he snickered. Of course you would call out his dismissive response. “You’re not being cute, Gojo – I know you can perceive the world around you in some way, shape or form. Describe it to me.”
There was a prolonged silence as he stared back at you—at least, you thought he was. You could never tell where Gojo was looking, but it always felt like you.
The quiet only made it worse; your voice lingered in his head, looping softly like a tune he couldn’t shake, irritating in the way only familiar things were—and impossible to ignore.
“It’s hard to explain. You’re asking me to describe the wind to someone who’s never felt it, or light to someone who’s never seen it,” Gojo said – an awkward hand scratching the side of his neck. Yeah – he could perceive his surroundings just fine, even with his eyes covered like this. But telling you what it felt like was a herculean task – he didn’t even know where to start.
You smirked. “For a teacher, you really fucking suck at explaining shit.”
“Shut the hell up – that’s rude, you know?” Gojo laughed. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
“You have no respect for me, I swear.”
“Correct.”
You’d never seen a grown man pout so pathetically.
Gojo clicked his tongue. “You’re impossible.”
But there was something thoughtful in the way his head tilted, like he was really considering you now. Then—
“Here.” He reached up, already tugging his sunglasses free. “Try these on. It’ll make more sense.”
There was an unmistakable spark in your eyes when he offered you his sunglasses. The idea alone made your chest flutter.
“Can I really?” you asked, smiling bright and unguarded. “I’d love to.”
Gojo snorted softly. Of course you would.
Your excitement tugged a grin out of him before he could stop it. “Would I have offered if you couldn’t?” he said, holding them out. “Careful—those are expensive.”
You took them from him with exaggerated care, fingers curling around the frames like they might shatter if handled too roughly. Gojo chuckled, warmth bleeding into his voice despite himself.
“Alright,” he went on, watching you closely now. “Tell me—can you still see? What’s it like?”
You slipped the glasses on and peered through the lenses. Dark—almost opaque, but not quite. Your mouth fell open a little as you turned your head, looking up, then down, then side to side, quietly taking it all in.
Gojo didn’t interrupt. He just watched.
The wind stirred softly around you, carrying the faint buzz of mosquitoes over the water and the quiet crunch of shoes along a gravel path. Somewhere in the distance, a woman laughed. Ice dripped from your cup, darkening the stone step beneath it, and even the birds chattering in the nearby tree sounded closer than they should have been.
It was all there at once — a wealth of small, overlooked details you rarely stopped to notice, brushing against your senses until it felt impossible to ignore.
“You feel it, right?” Gojo murmured. “It’s like that… but more.”
His voice was calm, steady as the breeze. He paused, letting the moment settle, then leaned closer. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin — just enough to make you aware of him.
“Whoa,” you breathed. “That’s intense. Really nice, though. Comfortingly… quiet. If that makes sense?” You tipped your head back toward the sky. It was almost completely dark through the lenses — you could barely make anything out.
Gojo smiled, small and knowing. It made perfect sense. The darkness stripped away the noise, leaving only what mattered — sound, movement, presence. He watched your expression shift with quiet fascination, your curiosity unfolding in real time, and found himself fondly aware of how natural this all felt to him.
Gojo was staring again—watching you where you rested on the steps beneath the torii gates.
You pressed the half-empty slushy to your cheek, sighing softly at the cool relief. Sunlight caught on your skin as the breeze passed through, and he watched you sip through the straw like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you weren’t unraveling him just by sitting there.
He didn’t understand it—these feelings. Messy. Unruly. And yet the day carried on as though he hadn’t been indulging you, letting training slide so you could lounge in the shade with a slushy in hand.
He should’ve felt worse about that.
But you were hard to say no to. Infuriatingly so. And if bending a little meant seeing that stupid, pleased smile, then—well. He could live with it.
Sour cherry.
The color stained your lips bright red, and the memory surfaced uninvited—how sweet they’d tasted when he’d kissed you. You hadn’t talked about it yet. Somehow, dissecting it felt wrong. Still, the thought lingered. He’d carried it with him ever since that day at the aquarium, the culmination of years of quiet pining and one reckless, selfish decision he couldn’t bring himself to regret.
And then—
Life moved on.
That was the strangest part. Not the kiss—it had been great. The memory still made his chest tighten, still sent a rush of warmth through him. What unsettled him was how ordinary everything felt afterward. Like the world hadn’t shifted on its axis. Like loving you hadn’t broken anything at all.
He couldn’t decide whether that was comforting or terrifying.
His gaze dipped, just for a second, toward your lips—then lifted back to his glasses perched atop your nose.
“You look good in those.” Gojo’s chest warmed at the sight.
Your head turned toward the sound of his voice. “I'll take your word for it,” you chuckled, squinting through the dark lenses. You could barely make out his outline. Your hand reached out until it smacked into his chest. "There you are, sorry…”
“Klutz. You’re a hazard to yourself and others.”
You scoffed, but your hand lingered on his chest a second longer than necessary. The solid warmth beneath your palm grounded you, steady and unmistakably him. Even through the dark lenses, you could feel Gojo’s attention sharpen—like a wire pulled taut.
“Well?” you prompted, thumb brushing absently against the fabric of his shirt. “You’re staring again.”
He inhaled slowly. Too slowly.
“…Yeah,” Gojo murmured. “Sorry. There’s just something on my mind.”
That earned him a look—head tilted, lips tugging into something curious rather than annoyed. You shifted closer on the step, knees nearly brushing, and for the first time since you’d put on the sunglasses, you lifted your face toward him fully.
“Okay,” you said, quieter now. “Lay it on me.”
The feeling of your eyes staring into his own was almost more than Gojo could handle right now. The words danced on the tip of his tongue — I love you, I love you, I love you — but actually saying it was another beast entirely.
He let out another breath and closed his eyes for a second to gather his bearings. His hands itched to reach for her — to hold her, touch her, pull her close — but he forcibly restrained himself from doing so.
“Just uh—don’t hate me, okay?”
“You’re the most annoying man alive, Gojo,” you said, smiling. “But I could never hate you. Go on.”
Say the words. That was all. And yet it felt impossible. Love—true love—was the most vulnerable thing a person could feel. Now he had to put it into the open. The thought of rejection made his chest pound, ears ringing, hands trembling.
But he’d started now, and you were looking at him with those beautiful eyes, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“I’m in love with you,” Gojo blurted.
He flinched, ready to take it back. But your hands held his. No laugh, no retreat. Shock, maybe—but enough to keep him grounded. He had to keep going.
“I love you,” Gojo said again, the words falling more steadily now. “I’m sorry.”
The apology tacked on to his confession pierced through your skin like a sharp knife, slicing its way toward your guarded heart with ease.
“Why are you – ?”
“It’s weak, I shouldn’t do this to you.”
“No –” Your voice was firm. "I didn't think...you'd ever say it.”
The silence that followed was thick—fragile, like one wrong word might shatter it.
You squeezed his hands, not letting him retreat into himself. Your thumbs brushed over his knuckles, slow and deliberate, as if reminding him he was still here. That you were still here.
“I didn’t think you’d let yourself,” you admitted. “You always act like you’re untouchable. Like nothing ever really gets to you.” Your grip tightened just slightly. “But this?”
You swallowed.
“This feels real.”
Gojo’s breath hitched, sharp and quiet. He didn’t pull away.
“I don’t need you to have everything figured out,” you continued, voice gentler now. “I just needed to know I wasn’t imagining it. That I wasn’t alone in feeling… whatever this is.”
Your forehead rested briefly against his shoulder. Just for a second.
“So don’t apologize,” you said softly. “Not for that.”
Gojo felt tugged in every direction at once. The strongest man alive, he could go wherever he wanted, do as he pleased—no one could tell him ‘no.’ And yet, that kiss had been different. Until that moment, he had decided you shouldn’t be tied to him. He didn’t need anyone else—he was Gojo Satoru. The weight of letting you in, of indulging in more than friendship, had always felt too heavy.
Allowing himself to love you was a burden he hadn’t wanted to carry.
Even now, he overthought everything. There was a part of him he rarely admitted: the man who wanted to fall in love, like everyone else. Loving you—the possibility of losing you as he’d lost someone else—terrified him. No matter how much he pretended otherwise, the kiss had proven it: he was capable of feeling this, and that scared him more than anything. Fighting it didn’t erase it—it only left him restless, unfulfilled, and aware of what he’d been missing his entire life.
But now that it had happened, Gojo realized just how wrong he’d been.
Reality hadn’t shattered. Life hadn’t upended. You still rolled your eyes at his teasing, still hit him with finger guns, still made his chest race when you laughed. The realization that it was okay to have kissed you made everything feel… strange, yet right.
It was okay to be in love.
He wasn’t sure what your relationship was, exactly—but for the first time, he allowed himself to breathe. To be near you without tearing himself apart. How long would this last? Could he protect you from the risks that came with being near him—the same risks that his cursed powers carried? One wrong move could hurt you. One misstep could destroy you. And if that happened, he knew what grief could make him capable of.
Even so, despite it all, he stood there under the torii gates, aware of the vertigo that came each time you smiled, and knew he would navigate this carefully—because loving you, for once, was worth it.
Which was why you really shouldn't be slacking on your training right now.
“Hey—” Gojo nudged your left foot with his own, playful but insistent. Your gaze snapped up, instinctively searching for his eyes beneath the blindfold. “Get up. Now that you’re all cooled off and slushied up, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
You groaned, long and dramatic, and he laughed. “Seriously? C’mon—there’s nothing I can do to get out of this? I’m sweating out here!”
“Nope. Not even that cute face of yours is gonna save you.” He reached out and hauled you to your feet.
You let yourself go limp on purpose, whining as your feet dragged across the stone. Gojo didn’t even blink. You could complain all you wanted—he wasn’t budging. “I’m gonna tear you to shreds,” he added, grinning. “Sorry.”
He wasn’t sorry at all.
The grin on his face was too wide, too bright—like he already knew what was coming next.
You steadied yourself, rolling your shoulders, meeting him where he stood. Whatever this was—whatever the two of you were becoming—it wasn’t something you could take lightly.
He wanted to keep you. You had to be strong.
And this?
This was only the beginning.
If you liked this, please leave a little reply or reblog | MASTERLIST
