Hello love your work so much!!! Especially the fireworks one!!! Can you write one of Gojo and reader getting into a heated argument could be about him overworking a lot not spending enough time with her or something like that. Reader ends up crying/ angry and walks out to cool off in the rainy night. Gojo feels bad and chases after her. Worried he can’t find her. Ending it with a soft and yearning Gojo to reader. Both of them apologizing to each other more of Gojo though lol. Him being the biggest simp for his girl.😩
࣪ 𝅄⠀I'll Find You (I Always Will)⠀ ۪ ݁ ── ᰍ
synopsis. You're tired of being his second priority. Tired of loving someone who's never there. So you leave — into the cold, into the rain, into the dark. He follows. He always follows. But this time, he's scared he won't find you in time.
pairing. gojo satoru x f!reader
content & warnings. ANGST with happy ending, hurt/comfort, heated argument, crying, reader walks out in the rain, gojo chases after her, soft and yearning gojo, gojo panicking UGH WHY IS HE SO PRECIOUS, apologies, biggest simp energy, established relationship, pet names
series. part 4 of "Satoru as Your Boyfriend" series!! all parts will be found here!
word count. 2.6k+
A/N. EKEKEK THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON!! this is my first actual inbox ask and i'm tweaking !! i'd absolutely LOVE to write it for you, thank you so much for sending the idea in!! i hope you'll enjoy it ♡
2nd A/N. i decided to add this to the "Satoru as Your Boyfriend" Series!! ^^ you can find the other parts here!
The apartment was quiet when he came home.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet — the kind that settles over a house when everyone is asleep and the world is soft. This was heavier. Stifling. The kind of quiet that meant something was wrong.
Satoru noticed it immediately.
The lights were dim — only the small lamp by the couch was on, casting long shadows across the floor. The kitchen was dark. The bedroom door was closed.
And you were sitting on the couch with your back to him, your shoulders stiff, your hands folded in your lap.
He should have known something was wrong.
He should have asked.
Instead, he toed off his shoes and called out, "Hey, sweetheart. Sorry I'm late. There was a—"
"A curse. I know."
Your voice was flat. Cold. Nothing like the warm greeting he was used to.
He paused mid-step, his hand still on the wall. "You okay?"
"Fine."
"You don't sound fine."
You didn't answer. You just sat there, unmoving, your back still turned.
Satoru felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He walked closer — slowly, carefully, like he was approaching something fragile. "Did something happen? Did I—"
"When was the last time we had dinner together?"
He blinked. "What?"
"Dinner. Together." You stood up slowly, finally turning to face him. Your eyes were red; like you'd been crying. Or holding back tears. He couldn't tell. "Sitting at the same table. Eating the same meal. When, Satoru?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. His mind was blank.
"That's what I thought," you said, your voice cracking. "You don't remember. Because it's been weeks. Weeks, Satoru. I've been eating alone every night, saving you a plate that just ends up in the fridge, watching the clock tick past midnight wondering if you're even coming home."
"That's not— I've been busy—"
"You're always busy." You laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just exhaustion. Just pain. "There's always a curse. Always a mission. Always something more important than me."
"That's not fair." His jaw tightened. "You know I don't have a choice. You know what happens if I—"
"Don't you?" You stepped closer, and he saw your hands were shaking. "You're Gojo Satoru. The strongest. You could say no. You could set boundaries. You could— you could choose me for once."
"I am choosing you." His voice rose, not in anger, but in desperation. "Everything I do — every mission, every curse I exorcise; I do it to keep you safe. To keep everyone safe. Do you think I want to spend my nights fighting when I could be here with you?"
"I don't know what you want anymore." Tears spilled down your cheeks. "Because you never tell me. You never tell me anything. You just— you disappear. For days. And I'm left here, alone, wondering if you're okay, if you're hurt, if you're even thinking about me."
"Of course I'm thinking about you." His voice cracked. "I'm always thinking about you."
"Then act like it."
The words hung in the air between them — sharp and painful and true.
Satoru didn't have an answer.
He stood there, frozen, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to say something — anything — that would make this better. But every word he thought of felt wrong. Inadequate. Like trying to stop a flood with his bare hands.
You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand. "I can't do this anymore."
His heart stopped. "What?"
"I can't keep waiting for you." Your voice was barely a whisper now — broken in a way he'd never heard before. "I can't keep loving someone who's never there."
"You think I want to be away from you?" He stepped closer, reaching for you. "You think I like coming home to an empty apartment? To seeing you asleep and knowing I can't wake you up because you need the rest?"
"Then stay."
"I can't!"
The words echoed through the room.
You flinched like he'd hit you.
Satoru's hands flew to his hair, tugging in frustration. He paced to the window, then back, his breath coming fast and uneven. "I can't," he said again, quieter this time. Broken. "I wish I could. God, I wish I could. But I can't. There are people counting on me. There are— there are things only I can do. And if I stop — if I take a break — people die, sweetheart. People die."
"Then maybe I'm not strong enough for this." Your voice was hollow. "Maybe I'm not strong enough to love someone who's always halfway out the door."
He turned to look at you.
You were crying — silent tears streaming down your face, your arms wrapped around yourself like you were trying to hold yourself together.
"Satoru," you said, "I love you. I love you so much it terrifies me. But I can't keep being your second priority. I can't keep feeling like I'm competing with the whole world for a few minutes of your time."
"You're not my second priority." His voice cracked. "You've never been my second priority."
"Then why does it feel that way?"
He didn't have an answer.
You waited.
The silence stretched between you — thick, painful, unbearable.
And then you walked to the door.
"Where are you going?" he asked, panic creeping into his voice.
You didn't answer.
"Sweetheart—"
You opened the door.
"Please—"
You stepped into the cold.
And you let the door close behind you.
It was pouring outside.
You hadn't noticed when you walked out — too numb, too angry, too sad to feel anything. But the rain soaked through your clothes within seconds, plastering your hair to your face, making you shiver violently.
You didn't go back.
You couldn't.
Your legs carried you forward — past the building, past the streetlamp that flickered in the storm, past the corner store where you and Satoru had bought ice cream at midnight three months ago. Everything looked different in the rain. Blurred. Forgotten.
You didn't know where you were going.
You just knew you couldn't stay.
The tears came again — hot against your cold cheeks, mixing with the rain until you couldn't tell the difference. You wiped at your face furiously, but they wouldn't stop.
How did we get here?
You thought about the beginning — when he would text you constantly, send you blurry selfies from missions, show up at your door with takeout and that stupid grin. When he would hold your hand like he was afraid you'd disappear. When he looked at you like you were the only real thing in the world.
When did that change?
Or did it never change — and you just stopped noticing?
You walked until your legs ached. Until your shoes were soaked through. Until you found yourself at a small bus stop; the kind with a cracked plastic awning and a single wooden bench.
You sat down.
You hugged your knees to your chest.
And you let yourself cry.
Satoru stood in the doorway for exactly thirty seconds after you left.
He stared at the closed door. At the space where you'd been. At the faint imprint of your hand on the handle.
She left.
You made her leave.
You pushed her away and now she's gone.
His chest felt like it was caving in.
He grabbed his coat and ran.
The stairs were a blur. The front door slammed behind him. The rain was falling hard, but he didn't notice. He didn't care.
"Sweetheart!" he called out, his voice swallowed by the storm. "Sweetheart, where are you?"
No answer.
He ran faster. Down the street. Past the corner store. Past the café where you'd had your first date — he remembered the way you'd laughed at him for ordering the sweetest thing on the menu. Past the park where you'd kissed for the first time — his heart had been pounding so hard he was sure you could hear it.
Where would you go?
He thought about your favorite places. The bookstore two blocks away. The bridge overlooking the river. The little bakery you loved.
But it was past midnight. It was raining. You wouldn't go far.
Would you?
A new fear gripped him — colder than the rain, sharper than any curse he'd ever faced.
What if he couldn't find you?
What if you didn't want to be found?
"Please," he whispered into the storm. "Please, just— just let me find you."
He kept running.
You heard him before you saw him.
"Satoru?" you whispered, lifting your head.
His voice was hoarse — raw from calling your name over and over, from the cold, from the desperation clawing at his throat. He sounded broken in a way you'd never heard before.
You stood up slowly, peering into the rain.
And then you saw him.
He was running — coat flapping, hair plastered to his face. He looked nothing like the confident, untouchable Gojo Satoru. He looked scared. He looked human.
When his eyes landed on you, he stopped.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
The rain fell between you — a curtain of water that blurred the edges of everything. You could see his chest rising and falling, his hands trembling at his sides, his lips moving like he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words.
Then he crossed the distance between you.
He stumbled. Slipped. Caught himself just before he fell. And when he reached you, he didn't say anything at first. He just pulled you into his arms.
He was cold. He was shaking. But he held you like he'd never let go.
And then — you felt it.
A shift in the air around you. A stillness. The rain was still falling, you could see it out of the corner of your eye, but it wasn't touching you anymore. None of it was.
His Infinity.
He'd wrapped it around you without a word. Without asking. Without even thinking, probably.
Your throat tightened.
"I'm sorry," he said into your hair. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, 'm so sorry."
You stood there, frozen, as he held you like you might disappear.
"I thought I lost you," he whispered. "I couldn't find you. I looked everywhere. I ran— I ran for blocks— and I couldn't— I thought—"
"I'm here," you said softly. "I'm here, Satoru."
He pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet, his lips trembling.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "For everything. For being late. For not being there. For making you feel like you're not the most important thing in my life; because you are. You are. You're everything, sweetheart. Everything."
Your heart cracked.
"I know I'm not— I know I don't say it enough. I know I don't show it enough. But you—" He swallowed hard. "You're the reason I come home. You're the reason I fight. You're the reason I'm still—" His voice caught. "You're the reason I'm still here."
"Satoru—"
"Let me finish." His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away tears. "I've been so focused on protecting you that I forgot to be with you. I've been so scared of losing you that I pushed you away. And that's— that's not fair to you. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who's here. Who stays."
"I just want you," you whispered. "I don't care about the missions. I don't care about the curses. I just— I just want to know that you're coming back. That you're thinking about me. That I'm not— that I'm not invisible to you."
"You're not invisible." His voice was fierce despite the tremor. "You've never been invisible. You're the only thing I see, sweetheart. The only thing that matters."
You stared at him — at the man who had everything, who could have anything, who was standing in the rain holding you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.
"Then stay," you said. "When you can. Just— just stay."
"I will." He pressed his forehead against yours. "I'll do better. I'll be better. I don't know how yet, but I'll figure it out. For you. For us."
You closed your eyes.
The rain fell around you — but not on you. Not anymore. His Infinity was still there, wrapped around you like a second skin. Keeping you dry. Keeping you safe.
He was still taking care of you. Even now. Even after everything.
You walked home together, hand in hand.
The rain was still falling, but you couldn't feel it anymore. His Infinity had expanded — covering both of you now. The water slid off an invisible barrier inches from your skin, leaving you warm and dry.
Neither of you spoke.
You didn't need to.
His thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. His shoulder pressed against yours. He was warm. He was here.
When you reached the apartment, he opened the door for you — something he always did, something you'd stopped noticing until now.
"I'll make tea," he said.
You moved around each other in the kitchen — a quiet rhythm that felt like coming home. He filled the kettle. You pulled out two mugs. He measured the tea leaves. You grabbed the honey.
"I'm still sorry," he said, his voice soft.
"I know." You paused, setting down the honey. "I'm sorry too."
He looked up at you, surprised.
"I said some things I didn't mean," you continued, your voice quiet. "About not being strong enough to love you. That wasn't— I didn't—" You swallowed. "I'm sorry, Satoru."
He crossed the kitchen and pulled you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head. "You don't have to apologize."
"Yes, I do." Your voice was muffled against his chest. "I hurt you too. I walked out. I made you chase me in the rain." You looked up at him. "That wasn't fair."
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "You were right, though. About some of it."
"That doesn't mean I should have left."
He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "We're both idiots."
"Yeah," you agreed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "We are."
He pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you. His eyes were tired, but soft. "I love you," he said.
"I love you too, Satoru."
"Thank you for letting me find you."
You looked up at him — at his tired eyes, his soft smile, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world.
"You always do," you said.
He smiled — that real smile, the one he only gave you.
"Always will, sweetheart. Always will."
You woke up to the smell of pancakes.
For a moment, you were disoriented — the sheets were warm, the pillow was soft, and there was an empty space beside you where Satoru usually slept. But the kitchen light was on. And the smell was coming from there.
You padded out of the bedroom, still in your pajamas, your hair a mess.
Satoru was standing at the stove — still in his sweatpants, his hair still damp from a shower, flipping pancakes like he'd been doing it his whole life.
"You're awake," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "I was trying to be quiet."
"You're never quiet."
"I'm always quiet. You're just a light sleeper."
You leaned against the doorframe, watching him. The way he moved — careful, deliberate, like he was trying to get everything right.
"What's all this?" you asked.
He set the spatula down and turned to face you. "I wanted to do something nice. For you." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. "I know it doesn't fix everything. I know I have a long way to go. But I wanted to— I don't know— start somewhere."
Your heart swelled.
You crossed the kitchen and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his back.
"This is perfect," you said.
"It's just pancakes."
"It's you. Staying. Trying." You looked up at him. "That's all I ever wanted."
He turned in his arms, pulling you close.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said.
"I know."
"Neither are you."
"No," you agreed. "I'm not."
He kissed your forehead — soft, lingering, full of promise.
"Good," he said. "Because I'd chase you again. Every time."
You smiled.
"I know, Satoru. I know."
A/N. hes so cute and precious AWSHWSH TvT hes adorable !! i love writing worried, hurt, or comfort gojo cz hes so bad at explaining his feelings but he always does his best 🥹
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
Fratjo who's hopelessly in love with Suguru's girlfriend.
Suguru tugs you over to him and introduces you both. He's never smiled this wide before, satoru notices. There's warmth in his eyes as he glances at your face while you reach out your hand to shake Satoru's.
He realises two things then and there:
1. Suguru Geto is actually in love.
2. He's in love with the most beautiful woman Satoru's ever seen.
It's sick really—how his stomach double flips when the words “my girlfriend” spew out of Suguru's mouth. Satoru is smiling but the corners of his mouth slightly falter, he can't help his disappointment. You're too busy glancing at Suguru to notice. Playfully shoving his chest and murmuring how it's too soon to publicly announce it. You're unsure about the relationship.
You give your attention back to Satoru, he realises then that he hasn't said anything in response.
“Well you're one lucky man, Suguru” he says with a polished, trained smile. You giggle in response and satoru feels like he's won a million bucks.
Later when he's standing next to some random corner of the room and listening to some guy chatter away about who knows what—he thinks of you. He'd like to make you smile again, he thinks.
He doesn't acknowledge the passing thought about how it's the prettiest smile he's ever seen.
————
You're everywhere.
With them in the car as they drive to get lunch.
Sitting with them on the couch as they watch a movie.
Studying with them at the library and pulling all nighters.
All the hangouts and activities Satoru used to do with Suguru now consist of a plus one. You.
Satoru thinks it's annoying. It's also unfair.
Seeing you—The girl of his dreams— hugging, cuddling, kissing, loving his best friend while he has to third wheel and watch the entirety of it.
It's torture.
Most days, late at night, he thinks about how good it probably feels to do those things with you. To hug you and feel your soft frame push against his hard chest, to smell the caramel and vanilla scented perfume he faintly smells when you come in close contact with him, to kiss and bite your neck and feel the steady rhythm of your heart.
It's not fair. He loves you too. When will you look at him like you look at Suguru?
“of course.” his mouth curved in ease and familiarity, a reflex practiced into place.
“but you’ve been frowning since we got here,” you pouted, “you neve-”
“how can you tell?” he asked, faintly amused. “i’m wearing a blindfold.”
you let your gaze rest on him, careful and measured, “i just know.”
satoru frowned upon realizing that he had once again failed to put a layer of infinity around his abdomen. despite living in a world of curses, he had always hated the hollow press and pull; he could not fully wrap his thoughts around it, yet it had become something familiar– a persistent tug reminding him that it has always been his choice to declare you as someone he must never reach.
synopsis. You've just gone through a breakup. Satoru — your nerdy, glasses-wearing, ramen-eating, painfully awkward best friend — shows up at your dorm with snacks and a terrible movie. He's been in love with you for years. Everyone knows. Except you. (Until tonight.)
mini series. part 1 of "From The Library to Your Heart) series. all parts will be found here!
pairing. bsf nerd!gojo satoru x f!reader
content & warnings. breakups, comfort fluff, pining gojo, college au, nerd gojo, bossy-at-first gojo (because he cares), shy-during-confession gojo, jealous gojo, oblivious reader, best friends to lovers, soft angst, happy ending
word count. 2.5k+
A/N. this is part one of a short mini-series (best friends to lovers). glasses, sweaters, ramen, library study dates, and him being completely down bad for reader!! 😼 (please ignore any mistakes, i did not proofread this TvT)
P.S, this is a req by @uiuiuaa !! i loved the idea sm i'm going to make it a mini series HIHI
You were on your bed.
The dorm room was dark except for the blue glow of your laptop screen. Some sad playlist was on shuffle — the one you'd made after your last breakup, the one you swore you'd never use again. The blanket was pulled up to your chin. The tissues were scattered on your desk.
A week.
A week since your ex — a finance bro named something-you'd-already-forgotten — had told you he "needed space" and "wasn't ready for something serious" and "it's not you, it's me."
The usual.
You'd cried. You'd eaten instant ramen. You'd re-watched old movies and pretended you weren't sad. But tonight, you were just... empty.
Someone knocked on the door.
You didn't move.
Another knock. Louder this time. More insistent.
"I know you're in there."
Satoru. His voice was firm — not angry, just... bossy. The tone he used when he was done letting you wallow.
"I can see your light on," he continued. "And I can hear your sad playlist. And I know you're ignoring me because you think you're being subtle, but you're not. Open the door."
You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head.
"I'm coming in," he announced. "You have three seconds."
The lock clicked. You'd given him a key months ago — for emergencies, you'd said. He'd never used it without announcing himself first.
He stepped inside, and the first thing you noticed was that he was wearing his favorite sweater — the oversized grey one with the elbow patches. His glasses were slightly crooked, like he'd been running his hands over his face. His hair was messier than usual.
His arms were full. A bag of takeout from your favorite ramen place. A six-pack of your favorite soda. Another bag that crinkled — more snacks, probably. And tucked under his arm, a DVD case.
He set everything down on your desk, then walked over to the bed. He stood there, hands on his hips, looking down at you with an expression that was equal parts exasperated and concerned.
"You look terrible," he said.
"Thanks."
"I mean it in the nicest way possible."
"You're terrible at compliments."
"I'm not here to compliment you." He reached down and pulled the blanket off your face. "I'm here to make sure you eat something that isn't instant ramen."
"You don't know that I've been eating instant ramen."
"There are three empty cups on your desk."
You looked. There were, in fact, three empty cups on your desk.
"Get up," he said.
"No."
"Yes."
"Satoru—"
"Get up, or I'll carry you."
"You wouldn't."
He bent down and scooped you up like you weighed nothing.
"SATORU—"
"You had your chance." He carried you toward the small couch under your window, ignoring your protests. "You're going to eat real food. You're going to drink something that isn't crying fuel. And you're going to watch a movie so bad you forget your own name."
"This is kidnapping."
"This is friendship."
You stopped struggling. "You're impossible."
"I'm efficient." He set you down on the couch and pointed a finger at you. "Stay."
"I'm not a dog."
"Could've fooled me."
You threw a pillow at him. He caught it.
He made you change into comfortable clothes while he set up the room.
When you came out of the bathroom, he'd turned on your fairy lights — soft, warm, easy on your puffy eyes. He'd fluffed the pillows. He'd laid out the takeout containers on the tiny coffee table. He'd even opened your soda can for you.
"Sit," he said, pointing at the couch.
"You're very bossy tonight."
"You've been sad for a week now. Someone has to be bossy."
You sat down.
He sat down on the other side of the couch — close, but not too close. He handed you a container of ramen and a pair of chopsticks.
"Eat."
"Yes, sir."
"Don't be sarcastic."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
He shot you a look, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
The movie was, as promised, terrible. A low-budget sci-fi film from the 90s that Satoru had found in the library's free bin. The acting was bad. The special effects were worse. The plot made no sense.
You both made fun of it — you more than him, because he kept stealing glances at you instead of watching the screen. Every time you caught him, he looked away quickly, his ears turning pink.
"What?" you asked.
"Nothing."
"You keep looking at me."
"I'm making sure you're eating."
"I'm eating."
"You're pushing your noodles around."
"I'm eating strategically."
He snorted. "That's not a thing."
"It is now."
He shook his head, but he was smiling.
The movie ended. The credits rolled. The food was gone. The soda cans were empty.
You were lying on your side, facing away from him, curled up on the couch. Your head was on a pillow. Your knees were pulled up to your chest.
Satoru was still sitting up, his back against the armrest, his hands in his lap.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.
"No."
"Okay."
He didn't push. He never pushed. He just sat there, waiting, his presence warm and steady.
After a while, you spoke.
"He said I was too much."
Satoru went still.
"Too emotional. Too needy. Too—" You shrugged. "Too me."
"That's not true."
"I know. But sometimes I wonder."
"He's an idiot."
"Satoru—"
"He's an idiot," he repeated. His voice was firm. "He didn't deserve you. He never did."
You turned to look at him.
"How do you know?"
He looked at you. His eyes — soft, brown, magnified behind his glasses — were intense.
"Because I know you," he said. "I know what you deserve. And it's not someone who makes you feel like you're too much."
"Then what do I deserve?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked away.
"Someone who shows up," he said finally. "Someone who stays."
"Satoru..."
"Someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved."
The room was quiet.
Your phone buzzed.
You reached for it on the coffee table. A text from your ex.
"Hey. Can we talk?"
Your heart dropped.
Satoru must have seen your expression, because he leaned over and looked at the screen. His jaw tightened.
"Don't reply," he said.
"I wasn't going to."
"Good." He took the phone from your hand and set it face-down. "He doesn't get to do this."
"Satoru—"
"He doesn't get to break up with you, ignore you for three days, and then text you like nothing happened." His voice was low. "He doesn't deserve you."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"How do you know?"
He looked at you. His eyes were soft, but there was something underneath — something he was holding back.
"Because I've been watching you date the wrong people for years," he said. "And I'm tired of it."
"Satoru..."
"He's not the right guy for you."
"Then who is?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
"The right guy might be right in front of you," he said quietly.
The room was silent.
His face was red. His hands were shaking. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and he didn't push them up.
"Satoru?" you said.
"I've been in love with you since freshman orientation." The words came out rushed, like he was afraid he'd lose his nerve. "You were sitting in the back of the lecture hall, and you had this look on your face like you'd rather be anywhere else, and I just — I couldn't look away."
"Satoru..."
"I know I'm not — I mean, I'm not the kind of guy who —" He swallowed. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to say it without sounding —" He stopped. "I just... I wanted you to know. You don't have to say anything. I just — I couldn't keep pretending anymore."
The room was quiet.
He still wasn't looking at you.
"Satoru," you said.
He flinched. "Yeah?"
"Look at me."
He looked up. His eyes were wet. His glasses were crooked. His lower lip was trembling.
"Hey," you said softly.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Come here."
He didn't move.
"Satoru. Come here."
He scooted closer, his movements hesitant, like he was afraid of being pushed away.
You reached up and fixed his glasses for him. Your fingers brushed his cheek. He held his breath.
"I've been in love with you too," you said.
He froze.
"What?"
"I've been in love with you too."
"You're not —" He swallowed. "You're not just saying that?"
"I'm not just saying that."
"You're not going to wake up tomorrow and pretend this didn't happen?"
"I'm not."
He stared at you for a long moment.
Then he pulled you into his arms — tight, desperate, like he was afraid you'd disappear.
"I've been waiting for this for so long," he whispered into your hair.
"I know."
"I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner."
"I know."
"I was scared."
"I know."
He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wet. His face was red. His glasses were crooked again.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked.
"You're asking?"
"I don't want to mess this up."
"You won't."
He leaned in — slow, hesitant, like he was giving you time to change his mind.
He kissed you.
It was soft. Gentle. His lips were warm. His hands were shaking. His glasses bumped your nose, and he pulled back, embarrassed.
"Sorry —"
You kissed him again.
He made a small, surprised sound. Then his hands cupped your face, and he kissed you back — deeper this time, but still soft, still careful.
When you finally pulled apart, he was smiling like he couldn't believe this was real.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," he whispered.
"Why didn't you?"
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
"Of losing you." He pressed his forehead to yours. "You're my best friend. I couldn't lose that."
"You won't."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He was quiet for a moment. His thumb traced small circles on your cheek.
"You know," he said, his voice still soft, still a little shaky, "I practiced what I was going to say. Like, a lot. I rehearsed in front of the mirror. I wrote it down. I had a whole speech."
You blinked. "You wrote a speech?"
"Multiple drafts." He laughed — a small, embarrassed sound. "Shoko found one. She made fun of me for a week."
"What was in the speech?"
His face went red again. "I'm not telling you."
"Satoru."
"It's embarrassing."
"I just told you I love you. You can tell me the speech."
He hesitated. Then he took a breath.
"I was going to say —" He stopped. Swallowed. "I was going to say that I've been in love with you for so long I don't remember what it felt like before. And that you're the first person I think about when I wake up and the last person I think about before I fall asleep. And that I know I'm not — I'm not smooth or cool or any of that. But I'd spend the rest of my life trying to be the person you deserve."
Your heart stopped.
"Satoru..."
"And then I was going to say something about how your smile makes me forget how to breathe." His voice got smaller. "And how I've been saving up to take you to that ramen place you like because I know you've been wanting to go. And how I already picked out a spot in my apartment for your books because I thought — I hoped — maybe someday you'd want to move in with me."
"You thought about me moving in with you?"
"I thought about everything." His ears were bright red. "I thought about what our wedding would look like. I thought about what kind of dog we'd get. I thought about —" He stopped. "This is so embarrassing."
"It's not."
"It is."
"It's cute."
"It's pathetic."
"It's romantic."
He looked at her like she'd just said the most absurd thing in the world.
"How is any of that romantic?"
"Because you thought about our future." You cupped his face. "You thought about a life with me."
He stared at you.
"Of course I did," he said quietly. "I couldn't stop myself."
You kissed him again — soft, slow, full of everything you couldn't say.
When you pulled back, he was smiling.
"So," he said, "does this mean I can stop pretending I don't stare at you during study sessions?"
"You stared at me during study sessions?"
"I'm not confirming anything."
"You literally just confirmed it."
"I'm a bad liar."
"You're a terrible liar."
He grinned. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."
"Yeah," you said. "I do."
You woke up to sunlight streaming through your window.
Satoru was still asleep — his face soft, his hair messy, his hand still wrapped around yours. His glasses were on the coffee table. He looked younger like this. Peaceful.
You watched him for a while.
Everything had changed.
Nothing had changed.
He was still your best friend. Still the person who bossed you into eating real food and made you watch terrible movies and showed up when you needed him most.
But now, he was also yours.
You pressed a kiss to his forehead.
He stirred, pulling you closer without waking up, his arm tightening around your waist like he was afraid you'd disappear even in his sleep.
You smiled.
Then he stirred again.
"Mmm," he mumbled, his eyes still closed. "If you're staring at me, that's embarrassing."
"I'm not staring."
"You're totally staring."
"I'm admiring. There's a difference."
He opened one eye. "That's the same thing."
"It's not."
"You're impossible."
"You love me."
He smiled — soft and sleepy and full of love.
"Yeah," he said. "I really do."
He pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair.
"I love you," he murmured.
You reached up and brushed his hair from his forehead. "I love you too."
His eyes fluttered shut. "Say it again."
"I love you, Satoru."
"One more time?"
"You're greedy."
"I know."
You laughed, and he smiled against your hair.
"
"Hey," he whispered after a moment.
"Yeah?"
"I meant everything I said last night. About the future. About the dog. About—" He stopped. "About you moving in with me. I wasn't just saying that."
"I know."
"I have a spare toothbrush. I bought it months ago. Just in case."
"Satoru."
"I also have your favorite tea. And an extra blanket. And—"
"Satoru."
He looked at you.
"I'd love to move in with you."
He stared at you.
"Really?"
"Really."
His face broke into the biggest smile you'd ever seen.
"Okay," he said, his voice a little wobbly. "Okay. Good. That's—" He took a breath. "That's good."
"You're crying."
"I'm not crying."
"You're literally crying."
"These are happy tears. There's a difference."
You laughed, and he pulled you closer, and the sunlight streamed through the window, and everything felt right.
A/N. I LOVEVEEE COLLEGE AU NERD GOJO !!!!!! i love nerds sm why cant nerdjo be real 😭 now that part 1 is done, part 2's coming !! stay tuned for it 😼💞 and also, why are all my fics 2.5k+ words most of the time!?
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
ʚ synopsis. Gojo Satoru was your best friend. He was the one who showed up with ramen and terrible movies. He was the one who'd been in love with you since freshman orientation. You didn't know. Not until he confessed in your dorm room, voice shaking, glasses crooked, telling you he'd already picked out a spot for your books in his apartment. This is the story of how Satoru stopped pretending — and how you finally saw what was right in front of you.
ʚ pairing. nerd!gojo satoru x f!reader
ʚ cw. fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, mild language, mild suggestive themes (kissing, tension), touch-starved gojo, confession (he practiced in front of the mirror), shoko and geto being menaces (affectionate), soft gojo, height difference, established friendship, oblivious reader (just a little), gojo is down BAD, pet names, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, real kisses (finally), clingy gojo, tooth-rotting fluff, college setting, ramen and terrible movies agenda, observatory date, library study sessions, gojo has a speech and he's not afraid to use it, more tags to be added, will update when inspiration strikes . . .
ʚ A/N. I ABSOLUTELY ADOREEE NERD!GOJO !!! as a nerd myself (if i may) I LOVE WATCHING PPL SOLVE MATH HNGH i swear i come everytime i see them solving it so easily like GHGHJKSDJFKJKJSJDJ anyways... that's enough on my part! feel free to tell me if you want to be tagged on future parts <3
ʚ credits. div: @kurcmia and @my1003soda | art: xiaoshy_ot on twt.
01. RIGHT INFRONT OF YOU
You've just gone through a breakup. Satoru — your nerdy, glasses-wearing, ramen-eating, painfully awkward best friend — shows up at your dorm with snacks and a terrible movie. He's been in love with you for years. Everyone knows. Except you. (Until tonight.)
02. BETWEEN THE PAGES
You've been dating for a few weeks now. Satoru is still figuring out how to be a boyfriend — but he's trying. (A study date. A walk through campus. And a confession under the stars.)
