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The Years in a Blink

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵pairing !! : Gojo Satoru x Reader

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵summary !! : Love, parenthood, and how time moves too fast when raising someone you love.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵contains !! : Fluff!!!!, slice of life, a happy family, emotional whiplash, Gojo being the most dramatic but softest dad, heartwarming, a daughter growing up, Gojo being Gojo, heartfelt family moments, a lifetime of love, nostalgic angst, angst with a happy ending, humor, and a full-circle ending.

not beta-read. we die like men !!

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵word count !! : 8k words

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵playlist !! : You'll Be in My Heart by NIKI

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵A/N !! : This was supposed to be a simple headcannon, but somehow it turned into a whole thing… omfg. This has been rusting in my drafts for 5 consecutive lol days, and I finally got around to posting it. I have no idea why it took me so long, but here we are!! and I am both emotionally drained and weirdly proud. 😭tanginaaaajdksfbhd I made this while listening to You'll Be in My Heart by NIKI, and it was so worth it. Now I'm rereading it while playing the song again, and JKKEFUGKDSVBSFUH OMG, I’m so proud of my work. If you liked it, please like, follow, and reblog—it would make my suffering worth it LMAO. This is my first ever long fic #favorite. Hope you enjoy this rollercoaster of love and Gojo being the most dramatic dad ever. This fic means the world to me! 💙 (i have daddy issues)

⇢ read on ao3 here.

Dad! Satoru who took forever to come up with the perfect name for his daughter. He had a whole whiteboard full of ideas. “Okay, babe, hear me out. Infinity Gojo.” You threw a pillow at him. “Satoru, no.” He dodged dramatically. “Fine, fine. But what about… Limitless Gojo?” You grabbed another pillow. In the end, he chose a name that meant “miracle” or “light” because that’s what she was to him. His brightest existence. But of course, he still calls her “Princess Infinity” as a nickname.

Dad! Satoru who is absolutely wrecked by how much she looks like you. The first time she pouts, he points at her like he just discovered a new universe. “DID YOU SEE THAT?! That’s your pout. She’s your mini-me!” He holds her up like Simba in The Lion King. “You are the chosen one!”

Dad! Satoru who takes his discovery way too seriously. He starts documenting every facial expression, snapping pictures like a paparazzo. "Look at this one!" he exclaims, shoving his phone in your face. "She’s got your ‘annoyed but secretly endeared’ look down perfectly!" You sigh, glancing at the photo of your daughter glaring at him mid-bite of her snack. "Gee, I wonder where she learned that from."

Dad! Satoru who swears he’s going to get a baby-sized blindfold because “her expressions are too powerful.” He dramatically shields his eyes when she pouts. "I can’t! She’s too cute! I’m weakened!" You flick his forehead. "You’re literally the strongest sorcerer, Satoru." "Yeah, well, not against this!" He gestures wildly at your daughter, who just blinks up at him, completely unbothered.

Dad! Satoru who makes it his personal mission to capture every moment. “Babe, babe, look—she’s furrowing her brows just like you do when you’re mad at me.” He grins proudly, taking another picture. You sigh. "At this rate, we’re going to run out of storage space." He smirks. "Guess we’ll just have to get another phone. For research purposes."

Dad! Satoru who insists on doing side-by-side comparisons. He holds up baby pictures of you next to her face, squinting. "Unreal. It’s like I time-traveled and married baby-you." You shove him lightly. "That’s a weird way to put it." He nods solemnly. "Yeah, that sounded better in my head."

Dad! Satoru who is absolutely convinced she has your attitude, too. "Oh no," he whispers dramatically after she gives him a particularly unimpressed look. "She’s got your stare. I’m doomed." You cross your arms. "Maybe she’s just learned not to tolerate your nonsense." He gasps. "My own wife and daughter, teaming up against me?! Betrayal!"

Dad! Satoru who secretly loves it, though. Because while she might have your face, she has his laugh, and every time she baby-giggled at his antics, it’s like hearing the best sound in the world. He grins, pressing a kiss to her tiny forehead before looking at you with an almost smug expression. "Looks like my genes still won in the end, babe."

Dad! Satoru who still can’t believe his child is a perfect mix of him and the love of his life. Some days, he just stares at her in awe. “She’s got my eyes, but your entire face,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Like the universe just decided, ‘Yeah, let’s take Gojo Satoru and make him actually pretty.’” He huffs dramatically. “Unfair.” But then she giggles—his giggle, his exact laugh—and his heart melts because somehow, impossibly, she’s the best of both of you.

Dad! Satoru who gets smug about her inherited powers way too fast. “She’s got my eyes. She’s so getting my powers.” You squint at him. “Or she just has your eyes, and that’s it.” He smirks. “Nah. She’s definitely gonna be OP.”

Dad! Satoru who gets proof of her potential when, as a baby, she somehow activates Infinity. He went to pick her up—and his hand just stopped mid-air. “WHAT. BABE. SHE’S BLOCKING ME OUT.” You blinked. “Satoru… is she using Infinity?” He gasped, falling to his knees. “She’s already mastered self-defense. I’ve never been prouder.”

Dad! Satoru who realized way too late that having a mini-him was a recipe for chaos. The first time she teleported onto the kitchen counter by accident, he nearly dropped his drink. “BABE, SHE JUST—DID YOU SEE THAT?!” You sighed, already used to the absurdity. “Yep. Congratulations, you’ve cloned yourself.” Meanwhile, she just giggled, completely unbothered, while Satoru dramatically clutched his chest. “She’s too powerful. We need to establish ground rules immediately.”

Dad! Satoru who is a total girl dad. Braiding her hair (badly), playing dress-up (“I make a fantastic tea party guest, thank you very much”), letting her paint his nails, and calling her “Daddy’s little sorcerer.”

Dad! Satoru who is completely whipped. The second she says, “Papa, up!” he’s already lifting her. If she tugs his sleeve, he kneels immediately. If she claps her hands? Oh, whatever she wants, she gets. And if she ever cries? Oh, he’s fighting the air, the universe, and maybe even himself because NO ONE makes his princess cry.

Dad! Satoru who still can’t believe he had made a life out of love. He’s cradling her in his arms, watching the slow rise and fall of her tiny chest, the way her little fingers twitch in sleep. She’s so small—so impossibly small—and yet she fills every corner of his heart in ways he never thought possible. He brushes a thumb over her cheek, awestruck. “How did we make something this perfect?” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You stand at the doorway, watching them—, your husband and your daughter bathed in the soft glow of the nightlight. Satoru is sitting by the crib, one long leg stretched out, the other bent so he can rest his elbow on his knee. Your daughter, barely a few months old, is curled up against his chest, her tiny hand fisting the fabric of his shirt in sleep.

Gojo doesn’t notice you at first, too lost in the quiet rise and fall of your baby’s breathing. But when he finally looks up, your eyes meet.

For a solid minute, neither of you says a word. You just look.

It’s a silent conversation, one spoken in the way Satoru’s arms instinctively tighten around your child, in the way your lips part, as if to say something but never quite do. It’s in the way his expression softens, those normally bright, mischievous eyes now filled with something gentler

Something deeper.

You step forward, the wooden floor cool beneath your bare feet. Slowly, tenderly, you press a kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a moment before resting your forehead against his temple. He exhales, a soundless sigh, melting into the warmth of your touch.

Standing there, with your daughter safe in his arms, you close your eyes and lean into him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. His free hand finds your waist, grounding you, keeping you close.

And for a while, neither of you moves.

No words are needed. No explanations, no reassurances.

Because in that moment, it’s just you three.

Dad! Satoru who looks at his running child and suddenly feels heartbreak. It hits him out of nowhere—the realization that time is slipping through his fingers faster than he can grasp it. Just yesterday, she was so small, fragile, fitting perfectly in the crook of his arm. Now, she’s a blur of energy, teleporting through the house with that same mischievous glint in her bright blue eyes. He watches her, frozen in place, torn between overwhelming pride and the quiet ache of knowing she won’t always be this little. “Babe,” he says, turning to you in mock horror, masking the sting in his chest. “She’s growing too fast. Slow her down.”

Dad! Satoru who still finds himself staring at her sometimes, completely lost in the fact that she’s real. It feels like just yesterday when the two of you held her for the first time, when she was nothing more than soft coos and tiny fists curling around his fingers. Now she’s climbing onto his shoulders like it’s her throne, tugging at his hair as she demands, “Faster, Papa!” And of course, he obeys—because how could he ever say no to her?

Dad! Satoru who, no matter how much time passes, will never get used to the fact that he and the love of his life created someone so utterly, breathtakingly special. He watches as she sleepily crawls into your lap at the end of the day, rubbing her tired little eyes, and he swears, time can do whatever it wants—race forward, slip away—but he’ll always remember this. These fleeting moments, these stolen glimpses of pure, unfiltered love.

Satoru watches as his daughter runs across the living room, her tiny feet padding against the wooden floor, her giggles ringing like wind chimes in the summer breeze. And just like that, something in his chest tightens—painfully, achingly. He swallows hard, eyes tracing every movement, every bounce of her little steps. It feels like just yesterday when she fit in the palm of his hand, when she clung to him with fragile fingers, barely able to open her eyes. Now, she’s running, laughing, growing. Too fast. Far too fast.

“She’s too big,” he mutters under his breath, almost like he’s mourning something. His arms cross over his chest as he leans against the doorway, watching her twirl in her little dress—the one he swears was too big when you first bought it.

You look up from the couch, an amused smile tugging at your lips. “She’s literally three, Satoru.”

“Exactly!” He groans, running a hand through his hair in distress. “What’s next? College? Marriage? Moving out? My baby can’t leave me!”

“She just asked you to play tea party,” you snort, shaking your head. “I don’t think she’s planning her future yet.”

At that exact moment, your daughter comes barreling toward him, tugging insistently at his sleeve. “Papa, sit!” she demands, patting the tiny chair beside her plastic tea set. Her bright blue eyes—his eyes—glimmer with expectation, lips pursed in a pout so much like yours.

And just like that, the strongest sorcerer in the world is brought to his knees. Literally.

Satoru sighs, utterly defeated, but a grin spreads across his face as he lowers himself onto the ridiculously small chair. “Alright, Princess. Pour me some tea.”

Dad! Satoru who watches his daughter, now a teenager, with that same awe-struck expression he had when she was a baby. He still remembers when she used to cling to his leg, demanding piggyback rides, her tiny hands always reaching for him. Now, she’s taller, more independent, rolling her eyes at his antics instead of giggling at them. And it breaks him a little—because when did she grow up? When did his little girl become this smart, confident young woman?

Satoru watches his daughter from the doorway, arms crossed as she lounges on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She’s not running around the house anymore, not clinging to his sleeve or demanding piggyback rides. No more tea parties, no more chubby little hands reaching for his. Just a teenager, taller, sharper, more independent. And somehow, that realization cuts deeper than any wound he’s ever taken.

"Hey, kid," he calls out, leaning against the frame. She hums in response but doesn’t look up. He clicks his tongue. "What, no ‘Papa’ anymore? I remember when you used to cry if I wasn’t in the same room as you."

She finally glances at him, deadpan. "Yeah, well, I also used to think eating sand was a good idea. We all make mistakes."

Satoru gasps dramatically, clutching his chest as he staggers back like he’s been fatally wounded. "My own daughter… betraying me like this… where did I go wrong?"

You walk in just in time to witness his antics, sighing as you press a hand to your forehead. “Satoru, stop being dramatic.”

“She’s being mean to me,” he whines, pointing an accusatory finger.

His daughter snorts, finally setting her phone down. "Papa, I’m literally just existing."

He huffs, plopping down beside her and ruffling her hair despite her protests. And though she groans and swats at his hand, she doesn’t pull away completely. It’s not the same as before—he knows that. But when she leans her head against his shoulder for just a second before picking up her phone again, he realizes—maybe she hasn’t outgrown him completely. Not yet.

Dad! Satoru who pretends to be cool about it but is secretly struggling. “You don’t need Papa to walk you to school anymore?” he asks dramatically, clutching his chest like he’s been personally betrayed. “Not even a little ‘Papa, save me from my homework’?” She gives him a deadpan stare. “Dad, I can teleport.” He gasps. “You’ve turned against me.”

Dad! Satoru who will never admit how much he misses when she was little—but still smiles, still ruffles her hair, still watches over her like he always has. Because no matter how much she grows, how strong she becomes, she’ll always be his little girl. And even if she pretends to be annoyed, even if she sighs and mutters, “Dad, you’re embarrassing,” she still lets him pull her into a hug. She still leans into his warmth. Because deep down, she knows—he’ll always be there, just like he always has been.

Dad! Satoru who stands at the doorway, watching his daughter—his not-so-little girl—laugh effortlessly with her friends, eyes bright, posture confident. He swears it was just yesterday when she was small enough to fit in his arms, clinging to his shirt with tiny fingers. And now, she’s growing into someone all her own. It aches, just a little, but he swallows it down because this is what he raised her for—to be strong, to be happy, to live freely. So, even as she rushes out the door, barely glancing back, he only smiles. Because no matter how much time passes, she will always, always be his little girl.

Dad! Satoru, who leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching his daughter rummage through the fridge. She’s taller now, her movements more sure, more deliberate. The little girl who once needed his help reaching the shelves now barely even looks up as she grabs a drink and shuts the door with a practiced ease. He lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head.

“You know,” he starts, voice light but laced with something else—something softer. “You don’t need your old man anymore, huh?”

His daughter pauses mid-sip, glancing at him over the rim of her glass. “What?”

“You heard me,” he continues, pushing off the counter and ruffling her hair, though she immediately swats his hand away. “I remember when you used to cling to me all the time, like my own personal little shadow. Now look at you. Barely even say hi before you run off with your friends.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “I still say hi.”

Satoru gasps dramatically. “Oh, my mistake. A single ‘Hey, Dad,’ before you vanish into the abyss totally counts as quality time.”

From across the room, you shake your head, amused as you fold the laundry on the couch. “Satoru, stop guilt-tripping our daughter.”

“I’m not guilt-tripping! I’m stating facts!” He places a hand over his heart, sighing. “My own child is abandoning me, and my wife is taking her side. This household is cruel.”

Your daughter snorts, but something in her expression softens. She looks between the both of you, then sets her drink down, stepping forward. Before Satoru can react, she wraps her arms around his middle, hugging him tight.

He stills, blinking in surprise.

“You’re so dramatic,” she murmurs against his chest. “Of course I still need you.”

From where you stand, you watch the way Satoru melts instantly, his arms coming up to hold her just as tightly. His chin rests on top of her head, eyes closing as he breathes her in. It’s a quiet moment—one that tugs at your heart, filling you with warmth.

You step forward, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Satoru opens his eyes at that, blue gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, it’s just the three of you, standing there in the soft glow of the kitchen light.

“Well,” Satoru murmurs, voice quieter now, “that’s a relief.”

Your daughter pulls away first, rolling her eyes at his antics but smiling nonetheless. And when she steps back, you’re there, resting your head lightly against Satoru’s chest. His arm slides around you instinctively, holding you close as you both watch her leave the room.

“She’s growing up too fast,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, tracing absentminded circles on his back. “She’ll always be our little girl.”

Then suddenly, you laugh softly, shaking your head as you watch your husband dramatically wipe at his eyes. It looks like he’s wiping some dust in his eyes. I think. "Toru, don't be such a crybaby!" you exclaimed.

"I'm not!" he argues immediately, turning to you with an exaggerated pout. "And don't act like it doesn't affect you too!"

You open your mouth to protest, but the moment your daughter disappears down the hallway, the silence she leaves behind feels heavier than expected. Your chest tightens just the slightest bit, and you sigh, leaning into Satoru’s warmth. He huffs, triumphant.

“See? You feel it too,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You groan, lightly smacking his chest. "Okay, fine! Maybe I do. A little."

"A little?" He scoffs, wrapping his arms around you fully. "Y/N, we made a tiny, adorable baby, and now she's a teenager who rolls her eyes at me daily. This is a tragedy."

You chuckle, resting your forehead against his chest. "It just means we did a good job, you know? Raising her to be independent, strong."

Satoru sighs, squeezing you tighter. "Yeah, yeah. Still sucks, though."You stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, finding comfort in the fact that even as time rushes forward, some things. Like this, like you and him. This. will always stay the same.

Dad! Satoru who still can't believe his little girl is all grown up. He watches her pack for college, stuffing way too many hoodies into her suitcase (half of them stolen from his own closet). "Are you sure you don’t wanna stay home forever?" he jokes, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. She laughs, rolling her eyes. "Dad, you’re being dramatic." But when she turns away, he catches the way her hands slow, fingers gripping the fabric of a sweater just a little tighter. You, sitting on the edge of the bed, fold one of her shirts and smooth out the creases a little too carefully. "You really packed fast," you say softly. "It feels like you just started." She doesn't say anything, just reaches for your hand and squeezes.

Dad! Satoru who insists on moving her in himself. "No sorcerer is touching my daughter’s boxes but me," he declares, teleporting all her stuff effortlessly into her dorm room while other students struggle up the stairs. You sigh, patting your daughter’s shoulder. "Just let him have this." And she does, letting her dad hover, check the locks, and inspect the entire room like he’s scouting a mission. You sit on the edge of her bed, running your fingers over the new sheets. "You’re going to be okay, right?" you ask, and her smile falters for just a second. "Of course," she says, but she’s gripping the edge of the bed like she’s anchoring herself. Satoru notices. He sits beside you, nudging her knee. "You know," he says, quieter, "you can call me anytime. Like, really. Even if it’s just to tell me your dorm ran out of snacks."

Dad! Satoru who gets choked up when it’s time to leave, but he isn't the only one. You and your daughter hug tightly, the kind of embrace that lingers, full of unspoken words. When she lets go, her eyes are glossy, but she grins anyway, throwing her arms around both of you. "I love you guys," she whispers, and just like that, Satoru is doomed. You hold his hand as you walk back to the car, but neither of you can bring yourselves to open the doors just yet. Instead, you both turn back for one last look. "We did it," you murmur, squeezing his fingers. Satoru swallows hard, blinking up at the sky. "Yeah," he exhales, voice rough with emotion. "We really did." And yet, as you both stand there, hands clasped tightly, you can’t help but feel that this is just another beginning.

The drive home is quiet. Not the uncomfortable kind—just the kind where the air is too thick with unspoken emotions. Satoru grips the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, his fingers flexing now and then like he’s trying to hold onto something already slipping away. You, sitting in the passenger seat, stare out the window, lost in thought. Every few minutes, his eyes flick toward you, like he’s checking if you’re okay, but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

It isn’t until you pull into the driveway, the house unnervingly still, that he finally breaks. "Okay, so that sucked." He groans, dramatically throwing his head back against the seat. "Like, really sucked." You huff out a soft laugh, but it’s strained. "Yeah," you murmur, staring at the front door. "It really did." Neither of you moves to get out of the car. The house feels different now. Emptier. You had spent years preparing for this moment, and yet, standing at the edge of it, you still feel unready.

Satoru suddenly turns to you, brows furrowed. "Hey," he says, voice softer now. "You doing okay?"

You let out a slow breath, resting your head against the seat. "I don’t know," you admit, finally looking at him. "It just feels... surreal."

He nods, exhaling through his nose. "Yeah. One second, she’s a tiny gremlin stealing my sunglasses, and now she’s—" He gestures vaguely, like words are failing him. "Living on her own. Learning how to adult. Being independent and—ugh, I hate it."

You chuckle, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "You don’t hate it. You’re just having a hard time letting go."

"Of course I am!" He looks at you like you just said the most ridiculous thing ever. "That’s my baby! Our baby! Who’s gonna randomly barge into my office to annoy me now? Who’s gonna bully me with you?" He sighs dramatically. "Who’s gonna give me another gray hair every time they teleport onto the kitchen counter?"

You roll your eyes, but there’s a fondness in the way you look at him. "She’s not gone, ‘Toru. She’s just... starting her own thing. Like we did, remember?"

He pauses, and something flickers in his eyes. He does remember. The two of you, younger, reckless, diving headfirst into a life together, unsure but excited. And now, your daughter is doing the same. The thought makes his chest tighten.

"I just..." He swallows, looking down at your joined hands. "I just hope she knows that no matter how far she goes, she can always come back."

Your thumb brushes over his knuckles, gentle and reassuring. "She knows," you whisper. "Because we never let her forget."

Satoru sighs, letting his head fall back against the headrest. "I still hate it," he grumbles. "But... I guess I can be proud too."

You smile, shifting closer so you can rest your head on his shoulder. "She’s gonna be just fine, ‘Toru."

He turns his head, pressing a kiss against your temple. "Yeah," he exhales, finally allowing himself to believe it. "She will be."

And for the first time that day, the ache in his chest feels a little lighter.

Dad! Satoru who immediately squints at the guy like he’s trying to activate his Six Eyes to scan his entire existence. The second his daughter cheerfully says, “Papa, this is—” Satoru cuts her off with a pointed look. “No. No, it’s not.” The poor guy stiffens under the weight of Gojo Satoru’s scrutinizing stare, while you sigh from the kitchen, already rubbing your temples.

Dad! Satoru who absolutely refuses to acknowledge his daughter’s boyfriend as a real human being. “So, what does it do for a living?” “Papa, he’s not an it—” “Fine. What does the thing do for a living?” “Papa.” He hums, taking a slow sip of his tea, eyes never leaving the terrified man across the table. “Does it have a last name? A home? A social security number?”

Dad! Satoru who dramatically clutches his chest when his daughter holds the guy’s hand. “OH, THE BETRAYAL!” He turns to you, looking utterly betrayed. “Do you see this? Do you see our child forsaking me for some—some civilian?” You roll your eyes, patting his shoulder. “Toru, please.” Meanwhile, the boyfriend shifts uncomfortably, whispering to your daughter, “Does he actually think I’m a civilian?”

Dad! Satoru who pulls the ultimate dad move—suddenly vanishing, only to reappear right behind the poor guy. “Boo.” His daughter’s boyfriend nearly jumps out of his skin. Satoru grins, clapping him on the shoulder, just a little too hard. “Relax, kid. I don’t bite.” His grin widens. “Unless you break my daughter’s heart. Then we’ll find out if Infinity has a ‘future son-in-law erasure’ mode.”Dad! Satoru who eventually—after many warnings, veiled threats, and dramatic tantrums—finally eases up. Later that night, when it’s just the two of you, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t like it,” he mumbles. “She’s still my baby.” You smile, leaning against him. “I know. But she’s growing up, ‘Toru.”

He exhales, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Then, after a beat— “Do you think I can pull off a background check without her noticing?”

You groan. “Satoru—”

“Just kidding! …Mostly.”

Dad! Satoru who, despite all his bravado, is now sitting stiffly on the couch, arms crossed, lips pressed into a firm line as his daughter and her boyfriend sit across from him. The air is tense—he’s making it tense—and his daughter groans.

“Papa, seriously?” she huffs. “Can you please stop looking at him like that?”

Satoru’s eyes stay locked on the poor guy, who is visibly sweating under his scrutiny. He tilts his head slightly. “Like what?” he asks, voice all too casual.

“Like you’re planning fifty different ways to remove him from existence.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely doing that,” Satoru deadpans. “Haven’t settled on one yet, though.”

His daughter throws her hands up. “Mama, help?”

You, having already anticipated this mess, merely sip your tea, watching in amusement. “Toru, play nice,” you say, but there’s no real scolding in your tone. You know better than anyone that this was inevitable.

Satoru leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Alright, kid. Let’s get to the important stuff.”

The boyfriend gulps. “Y-Yes, sir?”

“How fast can you run?”

“Excuse me?”

Satoru sighs dramatically. “See, this is why I’m worried. My daughter is a sorcerer. A powerful one. If a fight breaks out, I need to know—will you be useful? Or will you just stand there like a deer in headlights?”

“Papa, stop.”

“I’m just saying! He needs to prove he’s worthy of my precious baby girl.”

“By running?!”

“It’s a very practical skill, sweetheart.”

His daughter groans again, but her boyfriend, to his credit, musters up some courage. “I-I might not be a sorcerer, but I’ll always do my best to protect her.”

For a split second, Satoru falters. Just a little. His gaze softens—only slightly, but it’s there.

Then he smirks. “That’s sweet, kid.” He leans back, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Doesn’t change the fact that I can teleport you to a different continent in the blink of an eye if you piss me off.”

“Papa!”

You set down your tea with a sigh, finally deciding to intervene. You stand up, moving beside Satoru, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Toru, enough,” you murmur, and to his daughter’s surprise, he actually listens. You look at the nervous young man sitting before you. “Don’t mind him too much. He’s just—” you glance at Satoru, your voice softening, “—having a hard time letting go.”

Satoru huffs, looking away, but he doesn’t deny it. His hand finds yours, squeezing lightly.

His daughter sighs, shaking her head, but she’s smiling now. “Papa, you have to trust me on this, okay?”

Satoru exhales, rubbing his temples. “Fine, fine. But,” he turns back to the boyfriend, “I will be keeping an eye on you.”

The poor guy nods furiously. “Understood, sir.” Satoru grins, finally relaxing. “Good! Now, who wants dessert? We’re having cake to celebrate me not killing anyone today.”

Dad! Satoru who, after months of relentless teasing and dramatic sighs of disappointment, eventually accepts his daughter’s relationship. He still likes to mess with the poor guy—calling him "Little Chum" because of the way he always looked like a scaredy-cat in their first meetings—but over time, the title sticks in a more affectionate way. It starts as a joke, but before anyone realizes it, Satoru is casually slinging an arm over his son-in-law’s shoulder at family gatherings, laughing, “Oi, Little Chum! Pass me the soy sauce,” like they’ve been doing this for years.

Dad! Satoru who, against all odds, actually forms a bond with him. The guy is surprisingly patient (which is absolutely needed when dealing with Satoru), and even though Satoru will never outright admit it, he grows to respect him. They end up watching sports together, trading jokes, and even sparring once—Satoru taking it easy, of course, but just enough to make sure Little Chum doesn’t get too cocky. One evening, as they sit outside, sipping drinks, Satoru lazily remarks, “Y’know, I used to plan your disappearance.” The poor guy chokes, but Satoru just smirks. “But hey, you stuck around. Guess you’re alright.” It’s the closest thing to approval he’s ever going to give—but it’s more than enough.

Dad! Satoru who, after much (dramatic) resistance, finally comes around and accepts his daughter’s relationship. Though, in typical Satoru fashion, he does so in the most annoying way possible.

“Alright, alright,” he sighs one day, slinging an arm around his daughter’s boyfriend. “I guess you’re not completely useless.”

The poor guy visibly relaxes for the first time in months. “T-Thank you, sir—”

“—but you do remind me of a scaredy cat,” Satoru interrupts, smirking. “So I’m calling you ‘Little Chum’ from now on.”

His daughter groans. “Papa, no.”

“Papa, yes,” Satoru corrects, already grinning. “It suits him, don’t you think? Look at that face! That’s a certified Little Chum right there.”

The boyfriend looks helplessly at you for support, but you just shake your head with a knowing smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

And so, the nickname sticks.

— 0 —

As time goes by, something unexpected happens—Satoru and his son-in-law actually form a bond.

It starts with small things. Little Chum helping him carry groceries, asking about his work, and—even though he has zero sorcerer abilities—genuinely listening whenever Satoru rambles about techniques and cursed energy.

One night, they’re stuck washing dishes together after a family dinner, and Satoru hums thoughtfully. “Y’know, kid, I kinda like you.”

Little Chum nearly drops a plate. “Oh. Um—thank you?”

Satoru snorts. “Don’t sound so shocked.” He hands over a towel, shaking his head. “You make my daughter happy. That’s what matters.”

Little Chum smiles, more sure of himself now. “She makes me happy too.”

For once, Satoru doesn’t ruin the moment with a joke. He just nods, drying his hands. “Good.” Then, after a beat, he adds, “But just so you know, if you ever break her heart—”

“I know, I know,” Little Chum laughs. “Teleportation. Different continent. No one will find the body.”

Satoru grins. “See? You’re learning.”

And just like that, Satoru finds himself with something new—someone new—to protect. Not just his daughter, but the family she’s choosing to build. And maybe, just maybe, he’s okay with that.

Dad! Satoru and you who made sure your daughter’s wedding was nothing short of legendary. There was no budget—not when it came to their little girl. The venue? The most extravagant, draped in breathtaking chandeliers and fresh white roses. The dress? Handcrafted by the best designer, fitted with delicate embroidery and shimmering pearls. The food? Only the finest dishes, flown in from across the world. Every guest was treated like royalty, every moment orchestrated to perfection. And at the very front, Satoru sat with his arms crossed, a smug grin on his face as if to say, Yeah, I did that. My daughter deserves nothing but the best.

Dad! Satoru and you who, despite all the glamour, found yourselves caught in something much simpler—watching your daughter, now a bride, glowing with happiness. Y/N had tears in her eyes from the moment she walked down the aisle, barely holding it together as she squeezed Satoru’s hand. He, on the other hand, was a mess in his own way—leaning over to whisper dramatic complaints, “This is unfair. She was just my baby yesterday.” Y/N shushed him, squeezing his fingers tighter. And when it was time to give her away, Satoru lingered, just for a second, cupping her face like he was memorizing this moment. “You’re still my little girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead before finally—reluctantly—letting her go.

Dad! Satoru who stood at the altar, hands tucked into his pockets, as his daughter—his little girl—glowed in her wedding gown. His heart ached in the best and worst ways, torn between overwhelming pride and the bittersweet reality that today, he was letting her go.

After the ceremony, when the celebration was in full swing, he finally pulled the groom aside. The music and laughter faded into the background as Satoru clapped a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder, pulling him just close enough to make him sweat. The poor guy gulped, already familiar with Satoru’s antics, but this time, there was no teasing grin, no mischievous lilt in his voice.

"She’s my baby girl," Satoru started, his voice lower than usual, almost serious—almost. "I raised her, I protected her, and I made sure she never had a single moment of doubt about how much she was loved." His icy blue eyes locked onto the younger man’s, searching, assessing. "And now, that’s your job. So tell me—" his grip tightened just slightly, "—are you ready for that?"

The groom swallowed but nodded, straightening his spine. "Yes, sir. Always."

Satoru studied him for another second before breaking into a wide grin, slapping his back hard enough to make him stumble. "Good answer, little chum."

From a distance, Y/N watched with amusement, shaking her head. "You’re scaring him again, ‘Toru."

"I have to, babe. It’s tradition." He winked before turning back to his daughter, who had been watching the entire exchange with misty eyes. She stepped forward, lips wobbly, and before Satoru could say another word, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him so tightly it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

"Thank you, Dad," she whispered against his shoulder.

Satoru squeezed his eyes shut, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. I may not be with you, but you gotta hold on okay? You just have to be happy."

And as he held her, swaying slightly as if they were still dancing in their old living room, he knew that, no matter where life took her, she would always be his little girl.

— 0 —

The reception had slowly begun to settle, the music softening, the golden lights flickering like tiny stars across the grand hall. Guests mingled, laughter and chatter filling the space, but you found yourself away from it all, standing by the balcony, staring out at the night sky.

You weren’t even sure how long you had been there, arms crossed over yourself as if trying to hold something in—something overwhelming, something bittersweet. The day had been perfect. She had been perfect. Your daughter, in her shimmering gown, wrapped in love and happiness, starting a new chapter of her life.

But then, why did your chest ache so much?

A familiar warmth pressed against your side.

"Mom?"

Her voice was soft, hesitant—like she already knew what you were feeling. You turned, eyes immediately landing on her face, so heartbreakingly beautiful, still glowing with the remnants of the day. Her veil was slightly askew, her lips curved into a gentle smile, but her eyes… oh, her eyes were so much like yours. Full of love. Full of understanding.

"You’re hiding." She teased, but there was no bite to her words.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Maybe."

She stepped closer, reaching for your hands, holding them between hers like she used to when she was a little girl. But now, her fingers were steadier, stronger, no longer clinging to you for comfort but simply holding you because she wanted to.

"I remember when you held my hands like this when I was scared," she murmured, gently running her thumb over your knuckles. "You always made me feel safe. Like nothing in the world could ever hurt me as long as you and Dad were there."

Your throat tightened. "We tried, sweetheart. We tried our best."

She smiled, eyes glistening. "And you succeeded."

You let out a trembling breath, squeezing her hands. "You have no idea how hard this is for me. Letting you go."

Her brows furrowed slightly, her own grip tightening. "Mom, I’m not going anywhere."

"You are," you whispered. "Not in a bad way, not in a way that means we lose you. But this is different. You’re someone’s wife now. You have your own life, your own family to build. And I—I just…"

You trailed off, unable to finish because your chest was too tight, your vision too blurry.

Then, before you could blink, she surged forward, wrapping her arms around you in the fiercest hug she had ever given. You gasped softly, but the moment your arms came around her, you broke.

"You will always be my home," she whispered into your shoulder. "No matter where I go, no matter how far life takes me, you and Dad—this—will always be my home."

A quiet sob slipped past your lips as you held her tighter, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

"You promise?" you choked out.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, a watery smile on her lips. "I swear it. You’re stuck with me forever, Mom."

A wet laugh escaped you as you cupped her face, brushing your thumbs under her eyes. "Good. Because I’m not ready to let go just yet."

She grinned. "You don’t have to. You’ll always have me."

And as she leaned into your touch, warmth spreading between the two of you, you realized something.

She had grown. She was a woman now, someone’s wife, someone’s partner, but in the end—she was still your daughter.

And she always would be.

Dad! Satoru who nearly chokes on his drink when his daughter bursts through the door, practically glowing, and announces, “I’m pregnant.” For a moment, he just stands there, mouth slightly open, blinking like he misheard her. Then it finally clicks, and his brain short-circuits. He’s going to be a grandpa?! His reaction is instant—he lets out a whoop, scooping his daughter into a hug so tight she yelps. “No way! I’m too young to be Grandpa Gojo! Wait, what’s cooler? ‘Gramps’ or ‘Grand-Toru’?” He gasps dramatically, turning to Y/N. “Babe, I’m gonna be the strongest grandpa alive!”

Granpa! Satoru who suddenly quiets when he notices Y/N isn’t saying anything—she’s just standing there, hands over her mouth, eyes brimming with tears. And then, with a choked sob, she pulls their daughter into her arms, cradling her like she’s still that little girl who used to run into their bed after a bad dream. She holds her close, as if shielding her from the weight of the world, as if still wrapping her in a mother’s love that never faded. Satoru watches the moment unfold, his own chest tightening, his own vision blurring. And because he’s him, he sniffs and nudges Y/N with a teasing grin, voice wobbling, “Y/N, stop crying like a crybaby.” A throwback. A full-circle moment. She swats at his arm, laughing through her tears, and he only pulls both of them into his embrace—his daughter, his wife, his entire world—holding them like he never wants to let go.

Grandpa! Satoru who, after pulling his wife and daughter into a tight embrace, suddenly pulls back with a dramatic sniff. “Hold on—does this mean I’m a lolo now?”

Your daughter raises a brow. “Technically, yeah.”

Satoru gasps, clutching his heart like you just hit him with Hollow Purple. “No. Nope. Absolutely not. I refuse.” He whirls toward you, utterly betrayed. “Babe, we’re still in our prime! Still youthful!”

You deadpan. “Satoru, your knees literally cracked when you stood up this morning.”

He scowls. “That was the floor.”

Your daughter crosses her arms. “The carpeted floor?”

Satoru ignores her, dramatically wiping a fake tear. Then, after a moment of silence, he turns back to his daughter’s husband with narrowed eyes. “This is your fault.”

The poor guy freezes. “Uh—”

“You made me a lolo.” Satoru shakes his head, placing a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. “And now, I have no choice but to haunt you forever.”

Your daughter groans. “Dad, you already do that.”

Satoru grins, unbothered. “Well, now I have legal reasons to.” He sighs, rubbing his chin. “But since I’m feeling generous, I’ll allow one compromise.” He crouches to eye level with your daughter’s stomach, clears his throat, and whispers, “Your first word better be ‘Toru’ if you know what’s good for you.”

You smack the back of his head. “Toru, stop bribing the baby.”

Grandpa! Satoru and Grandma! you who practically flew through the hospital hallways, ignoring the nurses telling you to slow down. The moment you reached the room, breathless and frantic, your eyes immediately landed on the tiny bundle in the bassinet—a new life, your grandchild, waiting to be held. But neither of you moved toward it. Instead, you both rushed straight to your daughter’s bedside. Satoru grasped her hand, his fingers shaking slightly, while you cupped her face, scanning every inch of her expression. “Are you okay?” you both asked at the same time, voices laced with so much worry that she blinked in surprise.

Grandpa! Satoru and Grandma! you who didn’t even glance at the baby again, not until your daughter assured you she was fine—tired, sore, but okay. Only then did Satoru sigh in relief, pressing a kiss to her forehead, while you stroked her hair like you used to when she was little. “You scared us,” you murmured, swallowing back tears. Your daughter huffed, exhausted but fond. “I just gave birth, not fought a curse.” Satoru sniffled dramatically. “Same thing, princess.” And finally, finally, when you both were sure she was truly alright, you turned toward the bassinet—toward the newest light of your family.

Grandpa! Satoru and Grandma! you who burst into the hospital, breathless, frantic, completely disheveled from breaking every traffic law possible just to get here in time—only to be met with the sight of a tiny, swaddled baby already resting peacefully in the bassinet.

But neither of you move toward the newborn. Not yet.

Because before anything else, before even sparing more than a glance at the newest addition to your family, both of you rush straight to your daughter’s side. She looks exhausted, her face pale, dark circles under her eyes, but she’s here. She’s okay. And that’s all that matters.

Y/N is the first to cup her face, brushing damp hair from her forehead with shaking hands. “Sweetheart,” she breathes, voice thick with emotion. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Did everything go smoothly?”

Satoru hovers beside her, arms crossed tightly like he’s holding himself back from scooping her up and shielding her from the entire world. “I swear, if they made you push too hard, I’m suing—”

Their daughter groans but manages a tired laugh. “Dad, that’s… not how childbirth works.”

He scoffs, sitting at the edge of the bed, gripping her hand. “Still. If I could’ve taken the pain for you, I would’ve.” His voice falters for the first time, and when she looks at him, she sees something raw in his expression—relief, worry, and something painfully deep.

Y/N leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to her daughter’s forehead, whispering, “You did amazing, baby.” And finally—finally—with a shaky breath, Satoru and Y/N turn their heads toward the bassinet, where a tiny bundle of warmth awaits, a little piece of their legacy, a new life born from the love that started it all.

Grandpa! Satoru and Grandma! you who stood frozen for a moment, staring at the tiny life swaddled in soft blankets, but your feet carried you past the bassinet without a second thought. Instead, you rushed to your daughter’s bedside, hands grasping hers, eyes scanning her tired face with nothing but worry. “Are you okay?” you whispered, brushing damp strands from her forehead. “Did it hurt too much? Did they take care of you?” Satoru hovered beside you, for once uncharacteristically quiet, his hand settling on her shoulder. His usual bright energy was dimmed, replaced by something softer, something so achingly tender. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on her skin, a habit he never quite grew out of. And for the first time in what felt like forever, your daughter looked small again—your little girl, your baby, exhausted but smiling, teary-eyed but glowing. “I’m okay, Mom. Dad,” she assured you, squeezing your fingers with what little strength she had left. “I did it.”

Grandpa! Satoru and Grandma! you who finally turned to look at the tiny bundle in the bassinet, and the moment you picked them up, the years caught up to you all at once. Your arms knew the weight instinctively, as if no time had passed since the last time you held someone this small. You cradled your grandchild the way you once cradled their mother, every memory flashing in your mind—her first laugh, her first steps, the way she used to cling to you after a nightmare. And now, here she was, grown, a mother herself. Your chest ached with the kind of love that had no end, no limits, no bounds. “I’m a grandma,” you whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief, tears slipping down your cheeks as the baby yawned. You traced the softness of their tiny fingers, the gentle rise and fall of their breath. Satoru stood beside you, peering over your shoulder, his eyes impossibly bright yet unbearably soft. “And I’m a grandpa,” he said, wonder lacing his tone. But then, as always, he ruined the moment in the best way possible. “But babe,” he grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “We’re still in our prime. Still youthful.”

You scoffed, swatting at his chest, but there was no real force behind it. He caught your wrist easily, twining your fingers together, squeezing once. And when you turned to look at him, he was already looking at you—really looking, like he was memorizing this moment, like he wanted to etch it into his soul. His white hair (already aged before his time) gleamed under the hospital lights, but his eyes, those beautiful, endless blue eyes, held the same love they always had. “Can’t believe we made it here,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Can’t believe we did this.” His voice wobbled, just a little, but he was still smiling, still Satoru, the man who had loved you so deeply for so long. You leaned into him, letting his warmth seep into you, your head resting against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong, familiar. Even after all these years, even as time continued its endless march forward, nothing had changed. You were still you. He was still him. And through every chapter, every moment, every breath. You had done this together. Thank you,thank you,thank you.

.

"I may not be with you, but you've got to hold on.

They'll see in time, I swear it true.

When destiny calls you, you must be strong,

Don't listen to them, 'cause what do they know?"

Credits to @enchanthings-a for the pretty divider! :3

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