◡◡ ﹒ I'm Finally Home⠀ᰔ
synopsis. He's been gone for weeks. Missions, meetings, responsibilities — always something. You miss him. He misses you. And then one Saturday, you come home to find a dress you've never seen before, and a man who's been trying to find his way back to you.
pairing. bf!gojo satoru x f!reader
content & warnings. fluff, established relationship, mutual pining (but they're together!), soft gojo, beach date, polaroid, chasing, tag, happy ending!!
series. part 7 of "Satoru as Your Boyfriend" series!! all parts will be found here!
word count. 2.2k+
A/N. this is a sequel to "i'll find you (i always will)" — part of the "Satoru as Your Boyfriend" series!! he's been trying. he's been working on himself. and now he's surprising you with a dress and a beach date. soft, fresh, and full of love!! 🫶 this was requested by @uiuiuaa!! <3
The apartment was too quiet.
Not in a sad way. Just... quiet. The kind of quiet that made you notice how loud he usually was — his humming in the kitchen, his commentary during movies, his laughter echoing off the walls.
He'd been gone for seventeen days.
Seventeen days of texting "good morning" and "good night" and "i miss you, sweetheart" with no one to say it to in person. Seventeen days of sleeping diagonally across the bed just because you could. Seventeen days of coming home to an empty apartment that felt less like home without him in it.
You missed him.
You really, really missed him.
Today was Saturday. You'd worked late, grabbed takeout on the way home, and trudged up the stairs with your bag dragging on your shoulder. The plan was simple: eat, shower, sleep, repeat.
You unlocked the door.
The apartment was dark. The curtains were still drawn from last night. The TV was off. Everything was exactly where you'd left it.
Except for the box on the coffee table.
You stopped.
It was a gift box — cream-colored, tied with a silk ribbon the color of the sky at dawn. No note. No tag. Just... sitting there.
You looked around. Still dark. Still quiet.
"Satoru?" you called out.
No answer.
You walked toward the box slowly, like it might disappear if you moved too fast.
You untied the ribbon.
The paper inside was soft, crinkling as you pushed it aside. And then you saw it.
A dress.
The dress.
The one you'd pointed at in a store window three months ago. The one you'd said "maybe someday" about, your voice small because you knew it was too expensive, too impractical, too much. The one Satoru had tugged you away from with a grin and a "come on, sweetheart, let's keep walking."
But he'd looked back at the window. You'd seen him.
And now the dress was here.
You pulled it out of the box, holding it up to the light. It was even prettier than you remembered — soft fabric, delicate straps, the kind of dress that made you feel like a main character in a movie.
Your heart was pounding.
"Satoru?" you said again.
Still no answer.
And then — arms wrapped around your waist from behind.
You yelped.
He laughed — that bright, beautiful sound you'd been missing for seventeen days — and pulled you against his chest.
"Hey, sweetheart."
"SATORU."
"Hey."
"You scared me."
"I know." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"You're supposed to be on a mission."
"I finished early."
"You finished early?"
"I've been trying to get back to you for days." He turned you around to face him. His hair was messier than usual. His rectangular glasses were slightly crooked. There were dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing the button-up you liked — the one that made him look soft and warm.
"You look exhausted," you said.
"I've been traveling."
"You look beautiful," you said.
His ears turned pink. "That's supposed to be my line."
"I'm saying it anyway."
He grinned — tired but real.
"I missed you," he said.
The words hit you right in the chest.
"I missed you too," you whispered.
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
"I brought you a dress," he said.
"I see that."
"And reservations. Or no reservations — we can just go. There's a beach. And a sunset. And I thought —" He stopped. Swallowed. "I thought maybe we could have tonight."
"Just tonight?"
He shook his head. "Tonight and tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. I'm not going anywhere for a while."
You looked at the dress in your hands. Then at him.
"You bought me a dress," you said.
"I did."
"And you planned a beach date."
"I did."
"And you finished your mission early just to surprise me."
"I did."
"You're ridiculous."
He grinned. "And yet, here you are."
Your heart did a little flip.
"Help me put it on," you said.
He kissed your forehead.
"Okay, sweetheart."
The beach was empty.
Not just any beach. The beach. The one you'd come to months ago, for the sunrise. The one where he'd taken your picture, where you'd eaten breakfast on a towel, where he'd held your hand and promised to love you forever.
He'd brought you back.
"You remembered," you said.
He smiled. "Of course I did. It's your favorite."
"How do you know?"
"Because you talk in your sleep."
"I do not—"
"You said 'the beach was pretty' three times."
You stared at him. "That's creepy."
"That's attentive. There's a difference."
The sun was low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink and orange. The waves were gentle, lapping at the shore. The sand was cool beneath your bare feet.
You were wearing the dress.
He was wearing a smile.
He'd held your hand the whole drive here, his thumb tracing circles on your palm, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he couldn't believe you were real.
"You're staring," you said.
"I'm looking."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is," he said, "I'm not just looking at you. I'm memorizing you."
"You're so cheesy."
"You love it."
"I love you."
He stopped walking.
The waves washed over his feet. He didn't seem to notice.
"Say that again," he said.
"I love you, Satoru."
He pulled you into his arms.
"I've been waiting seventeen days to hear that," he whispered into your hair.
"You heard it every night on the phone."
"It's not the same."
"How is it different?"
He pulled back just enough to look at you.
"Because now I can do this."
He kissed you.
Not rushed. Not desperate. Slow and soft and full of everything he couldn't say over the phone — the I miss you's, the I'm sorry's, the I love you's. His hands cupped your face. Your fingers fisted in his shirt.
When he finally pulled back, he was smiling.
"Okay," he said. "Now we can watch the sunset."
"You interrupted the sunset for that?"
"It was worth it."
The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a sky of deep blues and purples. The first stars were just starting to appear. The waves were gentle, and the sand was cool beneath your feet.
Satoru was still sitting on the picnic blanket, watching you with soft eyes.
"You're staring again," you said.
"I'm admiring."
"That's the same thing."
"It's not."
You grinned. Then, without warning, you reached down, tapped his shoulder, and took off running.
"TAG, YOU'RE IT!"
He blinked. "What—"
You were already halfway to the water, your bare feet kicking up sand, the dress billowing behind you. His laugh echoed across the beach.
"SWEETHEART!"
"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!!"
He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the picnic blanket. "You're going to regret this!"
"I NEVER REGRET ANYTHING!"
He was faster than you. Obviously. He was Gojo Satoru. But you had a head start, and you were determined.
You ran along the shoreline, the waves washing over your ankles, your laughter mixing with his. The stars were coming out. The wind was in your hair. And behind you, he was gaining.
"SATORU, NO—"
"YES—"
He caught you around the waist, spinning you around once before pulling you against his chest. You were both breathless, both laughing, both grinning like fools.
"Caught you," he said.
"You cheated."
"I didn't cheat."
"You're literally the strongest sorcerer in the world."
"That's not cheating. That's genetics."
"That's not how genetics work."
He dipped you low, his face inches from yours.
"I caught you," he said again, softer this time.
"You did," you admitted.
He kissed you.
The waves washed over your feet. The stars watched from above. And somewhere behind you, the picnic blanket sat forgotten in the sand.
When he pulled back, he was smiling.
"Best game of tag ever," he said.
"You've only played one game today."
"Doesn't matter. Still the best."
You laughed, and he set you back on your feet, keeping one arm around your waist.
After the tag game, you were both breathless and grinning. Satoru had somehow produced a polaroid camera from the picnic basket — because of course he had.
"You brought a camera?" you asked.
"I brought the camera." He held it up, turning it over in his hands. "I wanted to remember tonight."
"It's just a beach date."
"It's our beach date." He looked at you. "The first of many."
Your heart did a little flip.
"Come here," he said, holding the camera out at arm's length. "Smile."
You leaned into him, your head on his shoulder, your hand on his chest.
"Wait," you said.
"What?"
"Let me whisper something to you first."
He raised an eyebrow but lowered the camera. "Okay?"
You leaned up, your lips brushing his ear.
"I'm really, really happy right now," you whispered.
He went still.
"I've missed this," you continued, soft. "I've missed you. And tonight... you've made me feel like the luckiest person in the world."
He didn't move.
"Satoru?"
He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were bright. His ears were pink.
"You can't just say things like that," he said, his voice a little unsteady.
"Why not?"
"Because—" He swallowed. "Because now I'm going to be thinking about it for the next week."
"Good."
He stared at you. Then he shook his head, laughing softly.
"You're going to be the death of me."
"Probably."
He kissed your forehead.
"Okay," he said, holding up the camera again. "Now smile. For real this time."
You smiled.
He pressed the button.
The camera whirred, spitting out a small white square. He caught it, watching as the colors slowly bled into focus — the blue of the sky, the gold of the sunset, the soft pink of your dress. Your head on his shoulder. His arm around your waist. Both of you grinning like idiots.
He stared at it for a long moment.
"What?" you asked.
"Nothing." His voice was soft. "Just... looking."
"At what?"
"At us."
You looked at the photo. At the two of you, frozen in a moment of pure happiness.
"Keep it," you said.
"I was going to."
"On your nightstand?"
"In my pocket." He slipped it carefully into his chest pocket, right over his heart. "So I can look at it whenever I miss you."
"You're going to miss me when I'm right here?"
"All the time."
You laughed, and he pulled you into his arms.
"Okay," he said. "Now let's eat. I'm starving."
"You already said that."
"I'm saying it again."
He'd packed a picnic.
You sat on a blanket in the sand, watching the stars appear one by one. The food was simple — bread and cheese and fruit, the kind of picnic you'd talked about having "someday."
"You remembered," you said.
"I remember everything." He handed you a strawberry. "You said you wanted to do this. Months ago. After that movie we watched."
"The one with the picnic scene?"
"That's the one."
"You were half asleep during that movie."
"I was resting my eyes."
"You were snoring."
"I was meditating."
You laughed, and his whole face lit up.
"There she is," he said softly.
"There who is?"
"My girl. The one I've been missing."
Your heart swelled.
"I'm right here," you said.
"I know." He reached over and took your hand. "I'm not letting go."
"Not even for more strawberries?"
He looked down at the strawberries. Then at your hand. Then back at the strawberries.
"...I'll let go for strawberries. But only for a second."
"You're ridiculous."
"You love me."
"I do."
He squeezed your hand.
"I missed you," he said again.
"I know."
"I'm going to make it up to you."
"You don't have to."
"I want to." He looked at the ocean. "I want to be here more. I want to wake up next to you. I want to make you coffee and burn the toast and listen to you laugh at me."
"I don't laugh at you."
"You do. I love it."
You leaned your head on his shoulder.
"Just come home," you said. "That's all I want."
He pressed a kiss to your hair.
"Okay, sweetheart."
You fell asleep in the car.
When you woke up, you were in your driveway. The engine was off. Satoru was watching you, his head resting on his hand, his eyes soft.
"Hey, sleepyhead," he said.
"Hey."
"You drooled."
"I did not."
He showed you the polaroid. You had, in fact, drooled.
"...Get rid of that."
"Never."
"Satoru."
"This is blackmail material. I'm keeping it forever."
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. He laughed — that bright, beautiful sound — and leaned over to kiss your cheek.
"I love you," he said.
"I know."
"Say it back."
"I love you too."
He smiled.
"Let's go inside," he said. "I want to sleep in my own bed."
"Our bed."
"Our bed."
He took your hand and led you inside.
You woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains.
Satoru was still asleep beside you — his face soft, his hair messy, his hand still wrapped around yours. The dress was hanging on the closet door. The picnic blanket was folded on the chair.
He stirred, pulling you closer without waking up, his arm tightening around your waist.
You smiled.
"Hey," you whispered.
He mumbled something unintelligible.
"I love you," you said.
He pulled you closer.
You stayed there, wrapped in each other, until the sun rose higher and the world woke up around you.
He was home.
Finally.
A/N. i beg u to PLEASE ignore any grammatical errors, i wrote this at 1am so i'm pretty sure i'm going insane 😭
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
