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isthatatonguering · 2 years

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This is going on my comfort reads list 🥹. I felt so warm and cozy reading this, they are so sweet together.

Btw this line was beautifully written and an excellent part of the intro:

Sun rays catch between the tree branches outside of the window, and the dilapidating shadows dance over Shoko as she spins her chair back and forth between the glass panes and you.”

Lovesick Idiots

Soft!Gojo x Shy!GN Reader (Canonverse)

tags/warnings: 18+ blog, but this story’s pure fluff, gojo has the flu, you’re a secretary at jjk tech, you’re both crushing on each other, slight angst, kissin (ish), cuddling, lots of comfort and fluff<333333

summary: you take care of gojo when he’s sick and he can’t seem to hold back anymore

loosely based on one of my hc posts!

~4k

thanks for reading and enjoy <3

_________________

When Shoko tells you Gojo has been out with the flu, you almost don’t believe her.

“Are you serious? I just thought he was on a mission for the last few days!”

She sighs, swiveling her chair away from where you two are sharing an improvised lunch of leftover juice boxes from the cafeteria and a split open bag of chips on her desk. Sun rays catch between the tree branches outside of the window, and the dilapidating shadows dance over Shoko as she spins her chair back and forth between the glass panes and you.

“I’m literally- well, basically a doctor. I just dropped off meds for him the other day. Go check for yourself, I’m sure he’d love a visit from you too.” She suggests, giving you a sidelong glance as she takes a cigarette and her lighter out of her coat pocket.

“What do you mean by that?” You scowl at her, fully aware of her insinuation. You run the point of your shoe over the outlines of the floor tiles, willing the butterflies in your stomach to tame their excited flutters at Shoko’s claim.

Ever since you joined Jujutsu Tech as a secretary, it seemed as though Gojo thought of you as his personal assistant. Frankly, at first he annoyed the hell out of you, with his pompous attitude and copious amounts of paperwork for all of his missions. However, he would occasionally bring you a souvenir from his travels or leave a small snack on your desk as thanks, oftentimes a sticky note nabbed from your desk drawer with a silly drawing left on top. The kind gestures would chip away at your heart with every instance, and your tolerance for him eventually grew as well. He seemed to catch on to this, and he would often spend class breaks trying to get a smile out of you. He would claim he had never seen it despite making one appear on your face whenever you conversed, and you would always roll your eyes and tell him to get back to teaching. You had to admit you had developed a borderline pathetic crush on the white haired man, with his bright cerulean eyes and obvious charm. It was difficult to deny him when he leaned over your desk, asking about your day and coyly flirting with you to get a lollipop from the bowl you kept in your drawer for the students. Even with his blindfold or sunglasses on, you sometimes felt his gaze sweeping over your face for far too long. Although, it was probably just your imagination.

“You know what I mean.” Shoko coolly returns your stare as she slides the window open, “Everyone knows that idiot likes you, and that you like him. For some reason.”

Your cheeks immediately heat, “He doesn’t like me. And you have to admit he is kinder than he lets on, and very handsome.”

You sometimes saw him come in fresh from a mission, a bored and almost numb look on his face. Although he would treat you the same as usual, you could tell something was breaking beneath his constant displays of power and invincibility. You had called him out on it once, and to your surprise he had placed his hand on your head with a dreary fog in his eyes. The weight of it seemed greater than you had anticipated, as if every bone in his body was dense with a grief that threatened to seep out at any moment.

“Have you ever had a best friend?”

When you silently nodded, he had sighed and removed his hand from your head, resting his elbows along the edge of the table and looking at the ground. The dark fabric of his sorcerer’s uniform broke out in crisp folds where he bent his frame against the counter, and his voice was unusually small when he spoke.

“Me too, once.”

You had carefully patted the broad angle of his shoulder at the news, “I don’t know what happened to your friend, but you seem like the type to bottle things up, whether out of duty or the need to always put on a brave face. You’re only human though, so go easy on yourself.”

“I’m not a human, I’m a sorcerer. A weapon against curses. The strongest.” He had said, a bitter grimace spreading across his lips.

The uncharacteristic acidity in his words had you taken aback, but you kept your calm gaze on his jaded one.

“To me, you’re the strongest because you still have your humanity. A heart, and a good one at that. Being strong at all times is an impossibility, even with your gifts. Though I know you try to be anyway, despite acknowledging that fact.”

You paused for a moment, the air stilling between you both, “I don’t mean to offend you-”

“No, finish what you have to say. I’m listening.” Gojo shifted his posture, keenly tilting his head towards you.

His devoted attention and proximity, as slight as they were, ignited something in your chest.

You permitted yourself to continue speaking, carefully regarding the man before you, “What I mean to say is that your ability to be strong ultimately relies on the inevitability of your weakness. You’re a teacher for that reason, right? To help the students establish strength from their current weaknesses, and ultimately better the sorcerer world? Don’t neglect your humanity, Gojo, I think it really suits you.”

He didn’t say anything for a long stretch of time, squeezing a large hand around his cheeks and puckering his lips out in ponderance. Then, he had let out an entertained laugh.

“You’re so cute.” The tall man ruffled your hair, and you had watched in confusion as he walked away to meet with the elders. His conscience appeared to be lighter, and your eyes had worriedly trailed after him until he disappeared into the other room, hoping he could sense that you would send him any extra strength you possessed if he ever needed it.

After that, he always seemed to seek you out when he was in a similar state. Even when you weren’t having a great day either, you both managed to be smiling after talking to each other for a handful of moments.

Shoko scoffs, “I’ve known Satoru for years, he’s as unhinged as they come. I’m happy if you’re both happy though.”

“What is there to be happy about? Nothing’s going to happen.” You dismiss her words with a wave of your hand.

Sure you considered each other as friends now, but you always assumed he treated you the same as he would anyone else. Gojo was meant for greatness, for impacting the sorcerer world and its history, he couldn’t possibly place you in any sort of mutual importance. As much as you told yourself that, you couldn’t resist craving his presence and hoping against hope.

“Oh really? So you’re not going to his apartment after school lets out?” She quirks up a brow, blowing out a stream of gray smoke before pocketting her lighter.

You give her a scathing stare, popping a potato chip into your mouth and giving it a hard chew, “Absolutely not.”

_____________________

As soon as you park your car across from Gojo’s apartment, regret begins filling your stomach.

“I should really think things through before doing them.”

You barely finish the mournful thought when your phone rings, high pitched and incessant.

“Hello?” You don’t even look at the screen to check who it is, your gut twisting with recognition at the energy behind the static.

“Hey, did you come to visit me?” Gojo drawls on the other side of the line.

His voice instantly irritates you and makes your heartbeat fasten simultaneously. You can almost feel the bastard peering between his blinds at your rigid loitering on the curb. Damn him and his six eyes.

“Is that a problem?” You question, hoping he can sense your glare as you open the side door. It clicks open with ease, and you nearly misstep when Gojo heartily laughs.

“Not at all.” He coos, and you can practically hear the shiteating grin on his face.

“Good, I’m coming in.” You pick up a container of hot soup from where it was precariously riding in shotgun before shutting the door and making your way to the apartment entrance.

“The door’s already open.”

When you make it to the door, you see Gojo with his cellphone poised next to his ear and holding the door open for you. The sight of him in black sweatpants and a cream colored knit sweater shouldn’t make you flustered, but it does. The ends of his messy hair brush at the top of the doorframe, and even in his disheveled state he’s unnervingly attractive. His shoulder is leaned against the doorframe, his slender form emanating a confidence and power that you know he meticulously maintains in spite of his easy going demeanor. He has on his sunglasses too, though behind the tinted lenses you can still see the shimmering sparkle of his eyes and the long white eyelashes framing them as he scans your figure.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sick?” You arch a brow, deftly taking off your shoes as he runs a hand through his pale locks.

“Oh, yeah. That.” He blinks innocently, as if he actually forgot, “I am.”

“You’re hopeless.” You shake your head at his nonchalant demeanor.

A look far too smug for his circumstances curls across his defined features, “Good thing you’re here to take care of me.”

You send him a withering stare, and he raises his hands up in surrender.

“Really, I feel better with you here.” He claims, and your stomach does a flip at his flirtatiousness.

“Huh, guess I brought this soup for nothing.” You lift the container into his line of sight, and he immediately starts coughing.

“Actually, I’m very ill. You’re probably gonna have to feed me. Look.” He holds his large palms out with feigned shakiness as you straighten your shoes in the foyer, not believing him for a second.

“Come here.” You stand up and place a hand to his forehead, “Wait, you’re actually burning up. How long have you had a fever?”

He mimics you, placing his hand over your forehead, “Since I met you I think.”

You almost scold him, but then his glasses slide down his nosebridge and you notice the red tip of his nose and the bags under his eyes. Although his cheeks do seem a little more sunken in from being ill, the defined cut of his jaw and the pretty perch of his sharp nose over his dewy cupid’s bow is enough to create a deep sense of longing within you. You want to hold him, and some part of you instinctively realizes that he probably needs it more than you could ever truly know.

Gojo sniffles after a moment, and you drop your hand to pick his own off of your forehead, “Go to bed, now.”

“Aye, aye captain.” He salutes you before walking off, and you can’t help but softly chuckle at the sway of his tall figure as he stumbles into the hallway.

Padding into the kitchen, you begin searching for a bowl to reheat the soup in. You had been to his place a couple of times for get togethers with the rest of the Jujutsu Tech staff, but this was your first time visiting alone. He occasionally volunteered his place for such gatherings, and part of you wonders if it is because he was lonely after being raised surrounded by people and then ultimately becoming the last standing member of the Gojo clan. His apartment is quite large, and more of a penthouse than anything. The floor is all dark hardwood with tall ivory ceilings, and the windows are draped over with dark gray curtains. It’s clean, minimally yet tastefully decorated with luxurious furniture and amenities, and you expect nothing less from such an esteemed man like Gojo.

“Gotcha.” You grab a speckled ceramic bowl from the second cabinet you try, quickly dumping the soup in and microwaving it. Once you fish out a spoon from a drawer and equip yourself with napkins, you follow the direction Gojo went until you find yourself looking down at his prone form clutching a pillow to his chest in bed. There’s cooling cups of tea on his nightstand with the teabags murking up the bottoms, and the wastebasket that you guess normally goes by the desk next to his bedroom window has been pushed to the side of his bed. The plastic bag is stuffed with crumpled tissues and cough drop wrappers. The air is rather warm, with a humidifier sitting on his dresser drawers and blowing a river of steam directly at the bed.

“Gojo?” You grab his desk chair and slide it to the bedside, sitting and pressing your knees to the sheet lined edge of his mattress.

“Hm?” He flits his eyes up at hearing your voice, and then deliriously grins, “Oh good, you’re here.”

“You let me in.” You gently remind him, contemplating how he had managed to take care of himself in such a feverish state. Come to think of it, you hardly remember him telling you if he had anyone that looked out for him now that his family was gone.

“Oh, right.”

“Is it okay if you sit up for a bit? I brought soup, I think it’ll help.” You present the steaming broth to him again, and he languidly stretches before scooting up to rest his shoulder blades against his cushy pillows.

After he faithfully finishes the soup, you have him take another dose of the flu medication Shoko had told you she dropped off for him. Then, you take the remaining bowl and leftover tea cups to wash them. You even empty the trash, ensuring to wipe down any surface and washing your hands. Gojo watches you as he slumps in bed, eyes lazily following your movements as he lets out sporadic coughs or sniffles. Once you feel that his room has taken on an organized enough state for him to easily navigate as he regains his health, you sink back into your seat beside him.

“Alright, how are you feeling now?” You check his temperature again, and smile when his forehead is noticeably cooler.

“Great, thanks to you.” He crouches down to meet your eyes, the purr in his voice tickling your ears.

You flick his forehead, and he winces.

“You’re acting…different. Not that I mind, but are you sure you’re alright Gojo?”

“I always feel like this around you.”

“Like what? Sick?” The idea makes you scoff, since he was the one that made your gut wrench upon the mere sight of him.

“No, weak.” He answers absentmindedly, eyes falling to his palms, “But…I don’t mind it. It’s actually nice.”

The sentiment tugs your heart strings, but you try to think rationally. It was probably the medication, or the flu affecting his brain. You don’t want to make assumptions and entertaining any other idea would be unhealthy considering the way Gojo had eroded the wall around your heart months ago.

You mull over your words before mumbling, “I think you should go to bed Gojo.”

“I can’t, I’d rather talk to you. Frankly, I thought I was already dreaming.”

“Stop messing around, you need to rest.” You insist, frowning as you fold the blankets over his lap.

Gojo lightly shakes his head, his chest is rising and falling in rapid succession. You’re afraid he’ll agitate his flu with such sudden and uncalled for vigor. Even so, he presses his fists into to his sides, a shallow scowl punctuating his mouth.

“It’s not a joke!”

Gojo’s protest astounds you, and then he says it again, more gently and as if in apology, “It’s not. I’m not joking.”

The resigned tone lurching along his throat forces your lips to part in surprise, and the entire room seems to hold its breath when he turns away from you. The lines of his back are tense, and you can see him struggling to breathe from the ragged movement of his shoulders. You had seen Gojo upset a handful of times, but never like this. Without thinking, you reach out a trembling hand, hoping he won’t break if you touch him with anything less than the utmost delicacy.

You momentarily forget that his shields may be up, and you only remember the possibility when the warmth of your hand somehow finds stable rest on the center of his back. It shocks you, and Gojo must feel your arm stiffen in epiphany when he turns, sliding your hand across his back and then catching it in his as he turns to give you a meaningful stare.

He rubs the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, briefly admiring the way your hands fit together before his eyes are drawn to yours again. Specks of periwinkle and the sky reflect in his irises, a glow so brittle and beautiful that it makes your heart ache.

“I’m in love with you, you know that?”

The honesty clutching his cadence stifles any speech you had left, and you can see the panic spike in the opalescent blue of Gojo’s eyes as more admissions hurriedly spill past his lips.

“I never really understood love at first sight or that supposed gut feeling one has where they feel that they’ll eventually fall for someone upon meeting them. At least, that was until I met you. I fall more in love with you every day. I can’t stop it. I tried.”

His last statement is agonized, like he betrayed himself and more importantly you, by not controlling his emotions.

“Talking to you is never boring, and I worry about you all the time when I’m away, even if I can still see you. Isn’t that pathetic?”

At his question, your words return to you and you pull his hand closer, adrenaline coursing through your body from being allowed to hold even just a part of the man you had never thought would spare you anything more than friendly conversations.

“I don’t think it is.” You encase his hand in both of yours, praying your genuity comes across and that he can feel the pulse in your palm quickening from every word he utters.

“That’s another thing. Like I said, with you…I don’t feel the need to be strong. I can be weak, and not feel bad about it. Hell, I can just be. I’m…really happy you came to visit me, I don’t permit very many people to see me like this. I can’t.”

“Gojo, you have the flu. It’s only natural.”

“I know, but I used to always hide when I was sick as a kid and the habit’s kind of stuck. I hated anyone knowing I was sick. Still do, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, you’re safe with me. You deserve protecting too.” You caress his cheek, and the skin there is so smooth. He silently absorbs the touch, eyes closed. Seeing his innate beauty up close is like staring into the light of the sun, and you lower your head in embarrassment, “That probably doesn’t mean much coming from someone like me, but-”

“No, it means a lot. And I believe you.” Tears brim at his eyes, and your heart breaks at the same time his voice does.

“Is that okay? Can I do that please?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Your hand cradles the back of his head, and he automatically brings his face to rest in the nape of your neck. His hand leaves the comforting envelope of your own, and you feel him settle his arms in the curves of your waist to bring you closer instead. It feels perfectly natural and right, like a star finding their place in the comforting darkness of the night sky. You know Gojo will have to continue shining, but now he can always find reprieve in your arms.

You rub soothing circles over his back, feeling him shudder at your attentive motions and embrace you more tightly. His fingertips dent the soft flesh beneath your clothes, and your heart puddles in the bottom of your chest at his unexpected clinginess.

“I’m here for you, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”

He draws back with his eyes squeezed shut, furrowing his brows until you start smoothing the skin between his eyebrows and across his cheeks. You keep one hand weaving through the hair on the back of his neck and hold his face in the other, easing Gojo so he can fully relax into your touch.

“Hey, hey.” You soften your voice, stroking his hair with featherlight touches to accommodate his increasing vulnerability, “It’s okay, Gojo.”

Slowly, he opens his eyes and turns to kiss the inside of your palm.

“Only because it’s you.”

Any semblance of hesitation you had around your heart completely crumbles.

“You know I’m in love with you too, right?” You finally confess, the simple affirmation leaving you sincerely.

The brightest and most genuine smile you’ve ever seen from the sorcerer lights up his face, and he wraps you in a hug so blissfully that you feel your cheeks warm as they squish against his broad chest.

“God, being sick is the worst. I’d do anything Heaven asks of me to kiss you right now.”

“Better not, I don’t want to miss work.” You peer up at him with a determined look, but you melt at the sight of a pout jutting from his lips, “We can cuddle though if you’d like.”

He nods with a sniffle and you laugh as he pulls you down into the bed with him. You spend a good portion of time holding him and massaging his head to soothe his congestion and overall grogginess, and he gratefully sinks into your caring administrations. When he’s not snuggled into the crook of your neck, he reels back every so often to trace over every facet of your features. You can feel his eyes skirting along the skin, especially the curve of your lips.

“Don’t even think about it.” You warn.

“I won’t, I promise. I just really want to...” He whines, and it’s so endearing that you accept that Gojo will be ruining so much of your future resolve with just one look or plead.

You sit up, covering his mouth with your hand and then planting a chaste kiss where you estimate his lips to be laying underneath your palm.

“There? Happy?” A pointed look leaves you, and you raise a brow in askance.

His eyes briefly remain widened in shock, and then they soften significantly. Moonlight rippling over an azure sea. To your satisfaction, he nods.

You give him a shy glance and move to lower your hand before yelping with surprise as Gojo grabs your waist and flips you onto your back. The lack of effort he expends to do so has you gasping, and you all but fall apart when you see how Gojo is staring down at you. His eyes are trained on your lips, and he has both hands pinned at the sides of your head. You’ve never seen him so focused, and you have to remind yourself not to give in nearly a thousand times before you see him dipping his head downwards.

He covers your lips, and then your forehead, each cheek, and your nose as he kisses the makeshift barrier of his fingers against your skin.

The brief yet longing pecks have you so stunned and breathless that you can hardly react outside of instinct, closing your eyes and shivering whenever he comes closer.

Then, he starts slowing down, and you feel blood rush up your body. His white lashes fan down as he repeatedly presses kiss after kiss onto his hand while your lips are mere centimeters below.

“We have to stop.” You catch his wrist in a trembling grip, though your protest is so unconvincingly soft it makes you embarrassed.

A gentle exhale parts his lips, and you can see his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat as his gaze remains transfixed on the enticing shape of your mouth.

“Okay, okay.” He quietly acquiesces, tucking his fingers up and behind your ear.

“Come here.” You laugh goodnaturedly at his eagerness and pat your chest, where he reluctantly settles on top of you again.

He lets out a defeated sigh, but obediently nuzzles into your warmth. After a moment, quiet fills the room, and you can feel yourself starting to drift off as you loosely scratch your hands across the muscular plane of Goji’s back.

Sleep tugs at the edges of your consciousness, and you guess that Gojo is also falling asleep when you vaguely hear the lightest whisper against your neck.

“I hope you let me love you forever.”

Before the world darkens completely, you manage to murmur a reply.

“As long as you let me love you back.”

_________________

The next morning, you blearily open your eyes and then jolt awake at not recognizing where you are.

“Morning!”

You whip your head around, and your visage falls upon Gojo beaming at you with a coffee in hand and his arm bracing him against the doorframe.

“Good morning.” You do your best to mirror his expression, but you must not have come close based on how Gojo wheezes at your attempt.

“Someone’s still a little sleepy.” He strides over to you, stroking a hand down your hair and then bending to kiss the top of your head.

“Hey! No kissing! You’re still sick.” You swat him away, and he happily chuckles.

“Actually, I’m all better.” He holds out his hands, and even strikes a pose before taking a sip of his precariously full coffee.

“What? How?” You rub your eyes and yawn.

“It usually doesn’t take me long to recover. Shoko’s medication helped too, and your nursing, of course.”

“Huh. Alright, great. We should probably get going to work-”

As soon as you try to finish your sentence, coughs erupt from your throat and you can hardly get a word out.

When the fit is over, you and Gojo simultaneously meet each other’s eyes with surprise.

The corners of his mouth lift into a smirk, and he places a hand on your forehead as he regards you with a smug hum.

“Looks like it’s your turn to be taken care of.”

_________________

End Notes:

just felt like writing something nice for Gojo :) <3

#jujutsu Kaisen fics #gojo satoru #gojo fic #comfort reads

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