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sorcerersseestars · 4 months

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LIMERENCE (II)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

part i here

summary: Gojo is uncharacteristically insecure and unsure to the point of double guessing himself—something practically unheard of for the self-proclaimed Honored One. Meanwhile, the ever-feared blood-laden flowers make an unwelcome appearance.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: mentions of sickness and blood, descriptions of vomiting (caution to fellow ppl with emetophobia), characters are anxious and stressed!, cussing (obvs), use of (Y/N), kidnapping!

genre: hanahaki disease au, hurt/comfort, lowkey mystery?

a/n: Here is part 2 (finally lol)! It is a whole 6.7k words (😫) to make up for not updating until now haha. This chapter features serious!Gojo and worried!Gojo 😳. It seems out of character but it’s intentional (or so I claim). Also, I kinda make a pun out of Utahime’s name—hime (姫) means princess in Japanese! Two last notes: for clarification—I use italics to emphasize things, but also for characters’ thoughts. Geto is still alive (still excommunicated tho) in this timeline. More notes at the end of the chapter!

“Hey, ‘Hime, when’s your lunch break today?”

He hears a scoff that hardly conceals the crackly laugh that follows through his speakers. Her laugh is delicate and bright, even over the phone.

“Don’t call me that, Gojo. Never been into the princess thing.”

“We’ve been over this, it’s Satoru. And what should I call you then? Hime is perfect, it’s literally in your name.”

“I’ll call you Satoru if you call me by my real name: Utahime.”

“You’re so boringgg! Come on!” He whines, pretending to pout.

Utahime breathes in sharply at his words, “Satoru…you shouldn’t say things like that.”

Gojo stops walking. His brow creases in confusion: this is how he has always behaved, with obviously facetious and playful words. Even the people that claim they can’t stand him the most, like Shoko and Nanami, recognize when his words are intentionally over the top or ridiculous. Utahime also knows this: he has not concealed this aspect of his personality from her.

He can’t stop his next words from being spoken with a twinge of annoyance. “I was kidding, you know. Is something wrong?”

Utahime sighs, “No, no. Sorry, I’m just a bit stressed since the higher-ups asked for a meeting with me. Have no idea what it’s about…”

“They did? So, you’re not free for lunch? Please say you are…”

His words feel unnatural and stilted, but he brushes the feeling aside. He’s probably just nervous since it’s her, right?

“Yeah, I’m going to my meeting in a few, but I should be able to make it. Could you get the reservation for us?” Utahime asks, tone leaning on snippy.

“Mm, maybe. What’s the magic word?” He teases with a playful tone, trying to lighten her mood. This should work, it should make her feel better. He has experience with this.

“C’mon Gojo, not now,” She groans, apparently disgruntled. “But, fine, could you please make the reservation?”

He frowns. Not exactly the reaction he anticipated.

“Okay, but next time you gotta call me Satoru,” He says with a small awkward chuckle, this time easing up a bit on his teasing tone. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, though.”

“Sure,” She snorts, but not in the way that she would if she thought it was funny. It’s a sardonic snort, rather, and he would bet money that her eyes are rolling.

A loud click signals the end of conversation, but his phone remains pressed to his ear. He lowers it slowly, a strange feeling swirling in his chest. It’s an uneasy, heavy feeling from deep down, but he can’t discern what exactly it means.

“Why would I expect that to work?” He mutters to himself. “That’s so annoying, who would tolerate that?”

Suddenly, an image flashes under his eyelids, almost making him flinch at how intensely it conjures itself. A vivid apparition of you doubled over in laughter appears in his mind. It’s a memory, he realizes: you’re leaning on him as tears part from your eyes, unable to catch your breath due to how hard you’re laughing at one of his horrible, stupid jokes.

He remembers this moment well. You had been crying for real before—quietly sniffling, trying to hide it from him. He knew that you hated crying in front of others—trying to always appear strong, he knew this feeling well—so he started direct attention away from it with the corniest jokes he could make. That’s when your tears, first full of the hurt that he could clearly see in your crumpled expression, turned into ones of relief and joy. Your eyes had sparkled with some other emotion he couldn’t identify—something familiar, something that made him feel warm in the chest, but also made him feel so, so scared.

He never did figure out what it was. Or, rather, he has tried not to dwell on it. Every time it pops into his head, he pushes it down, the fear rising in him each time he comes closer to the answer.

Utahime never made him feel like that. That must be better. He never feels scared like that when he thinks of his feelings for her. That must be better, it has to be.

He enjoys talking to Utahime. He likes that he can get under her skin with little effort, likes how easily he can get a rise out of her: and most of the time, she’s amused by it, giggling and slapping his arm. He’s never scared with Utahime, but…why does something feel wrong?

His fingers, typing in his name for the reservation, pause and begin to tremble when he sees what he typed. He typed your name. His eyes widen beneath his blindfold—he’s grateful it helps to conceal his expression, even if nobody he knows is around. In truth, this is partly why he seldom removes it; he masks his true emotions more often than not. Not that anyone suspects it, though, too convinced by his saccharine smiles and forever jocular personality.

The blue horizontal line blinks in and out of existence as his fingers hover over his keyboard. Your name, though written in normal text, appears bolded to him: it sucks his attention away from anything else on his screen. He begins to break out in a sweat.

Sweating just from their name? How pathetic…

He shakes his head, frantically backspacing, trying to erase all traces of you from his mind. He’s been trying to do this for months, ever since he began to distance himself from you. There is a legitimate reason he has been giving you the cold shoulder, but it feels like an excuse to drive away this fear that grips him when he thinks of that warmth, that sparkle in your eyes.

Fuck. Now he can’t get that image of you out of his mind—his chest aches, his breathing comes quicker, but he does not know why.

He walks almost endlessly in the town he booked the restaurant in, in a pace-like fashion. His large stature and height make the brisk pace he walks at look absurdly hurried to passerbys: they stare at him unabashedly and he barely notices.

It’s only when he checks his phone that he realizes how much time has passed since he called Utahime. His reservation is soon: he will be late if he doesn’t start walking there now. Shit.

His breath comes heavy when he finally reaches the restaurant. It’s a casual yet nice ramen place—something familiar yet suitable for a lunch date. He’s wearing a baby blue button down shirt, nice slacks, and trades in his blindfold for heavily shaded sunglasses: also suitable for a lunch date.

A date. Yes, that’s what he’s on. A nice lunch date with a girl whom he kissed before the first date. A bit untraditional, not that he would be one to mind.

He approaches the hostess, about to ask for a table for two, but then he spots a familiar red ribbon perfectly adorning the dark strands of hair she always pulls back. She’s already here, sitting alone in the corner.

Gojo sighs. Fuck, ‘messed up again.

He hurriedly stumbles over to Utahime, probably looking a bit disheveled. She gives him a questioning glance at his appearance—Gojo laughs and immediately plasters on an easy smile.

“Hey,” He says nonchalantly, slowly lowering himself into the chair opposite her.

“Hey. You’re late,” She notes, but she doesn’t sound as bothered as he thought she would. “Did something happen? You look…like something happened.”

He goes along with it, sighing dramatically, “How’d you know? Yeah, Yaga was bothering me about some mission stuff. Dumb paperwork I’m supposed to do and whatever.”

She smiles, but it’s tight lipped, “Of course. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all sweaty.”

“I am?” He questions, feigning confusion, but his next words are partly true. “Ah, well, I realized I was gonna be late since he was pestering me so much. Guess I walked too fast.”

“Hmm,” Is all she says. She stirs the tea in front of her with a small spoon, expression blank as she does so.

Once he realizes she isn’t going to initiate talking further, he takes it upon himself, “How did the meeting go?”

She stops stirring. She sets down the spoon more harshly than she means to: it clangs loudly on the tea tray.

“I have some questions,” She says seriously.

“Questions? About what?” He asks.

Her dark, stormy eyes meet his. “…About you.”

He gulps, “Sure! What type of questions? You know, people ask me a lot of stuff. I’m sure I can handle anything.”

He winks at her, his usual smirk spreading across his face. Maybe if he jokes he can diffuse this god-awful tension. Not that it worked before, but he can try.

Utahime blinks slowly, exhaling deeply, as if attempting to calm herself down. He can see the fire in her eyes between blinks.

“How about that the higher-ups were asking me about my relation to you, when they believed you to only show interest in someone else?”

No. They can’t still believe that.

Terror strikes Gojo’s heart, electrifying his nerves, but he tries to play it off. He breathes out a chuckle and a few weak words, “That wasn’t a question.”

“For once in your life, be serious! We’ve only been dating for 3 weeks and I–” She inhales deeply. “I don’t think it’s a good sign that you’re intentionally avoiding answering me about this.”

“I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re talking about. Who did they even ask about? I can’t think of anyone they could say that about.” He’s lying through his teeth. Alarm bells are ringing through his head, and he dreads her answer.

She narrows her eyes, but seems convinced enough at his alleged cluelessness.

“They were asking about (Y/N). Asking about…your relationship with them. About how close you are. Asking if it’s changed.”

Gojo takes a sip from his glass, avoiding her eyes.“Well, did they say why? Seems awfully strange to ask you about it.”

She’s silent for a few seconds, mulling over her next words. They end up making Gojo bristle. “Satoru, you know I couldn’t tell you even if they did.”

His tone is abruptly serious. “The hell does that mean?”

She blinks at him slowly, with anger flashing in her dark eyes. “Gakuganji is very involved with them. If I told you, it would definitely get back to him. Who knows how he would punish me.”

"So you'd rather possibly endanger (Y/N)?" Gojo scoffs.

“Who said anything about danger?” Utahime says lowly, suspicion clear in her voice.

“Well, when the higher ups ask questions about my life, it usually isn’t just for fun,” Gojo says with a shrewd smile. “I don’t know what the hell they’re thinking so I can only assume the worst.”

“Does this really matter right now? (Y/N) is capable enough if it does turn out like that, and besides, I sorted it all out. Told them that your ‘relationship’ is fine and dandy and yada yada.”

Gojo sucks in a breath, nerves beginning to turn in his stomach. No. No! That’s not what I wanted…

Utahime doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort and continues, “You two have always been close…didn’t you have a thing for each other in high school? They have always had these eyes for you.”

Her tone is strange, gushing and gossipy yet also jealous.

“What?” Gojo says more loudly than intended as he takes in all of the information Utahime just casually dropped.

“You know, I even told them that you two were meant to be together,” She chuckles. “Funny how things work out—or, rather, don’t work out.”

Gojo’s stomach twists painfully at her insinuation—even though it shouldn’t. He likes Utahime, he’s with Utahime. Not with you. He’s not with you, he has never been with you.

“Gojo,” Utahime says suddenly. He blinks rapidly in surprise, eyes finally landing on hers. “Can we agree to be honest with each other?”

“Of course. What do you mean?” He says easily, nervously.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” She shakes her head. “You’re deflecting at every question I ask. You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

Gojo lets himself sigh this time.

He studies her expression. She’s beautiful, he has to admit. She’s beautiful, but she’s not you.

“Utahime…what is this all about?” He asks slowly.

“I should be asking you that,” She counters. “Why did you ask me out if you won’t actively participate in our relationship?”

“What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I?” Gojo responds carefully.

“But you mind isn’t,” Utahime sighs. “You’re miles away, Satoru. You always are. When you’re with me, you’re not thinking of me, are you?”

The question is so accurate that it seems rhetorical to Gojo, to the point of him not responding for many moments before he realizes she is genuinely asking him.

It’s so true and yet he physically cannot bring himself to admit to it. “I mean, I think about the higher-ups and work related stuff a lot. I’m sorry I haven’t been that present on dates and stuff, but–”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Gojo!” Utahime hisses out, tone bordering on venomous. “You’re always thinking about them. You make decisions thinking of them. I bet even when you kiss me, you think about them. Are you going to deny that?”

“Utahime…” He says softly, guilt constricting his vocal chords.

“I don’t understand you, Gojo. You asked me out and have taken me on fancy dates as if you want a committed relationship, but then your mind is always wandering away. I know that you still care for them, but then I heard from Shoko that you’ve been ignoring them for months. And then the fucking higher-ups ask me your relationship with them. Why would they ask me that and why would they even care? Something isn’t adding up. What’s really going on here?”

Gojo blinks in surprise at the depth of concern in her voice. It’s like she has already moved on from her jealousy towards you, and now is worried for you.

He must look surprised, because she adds on, “Just so you know, I’m not that sad. You’re kind of a shithead for doing this to me, but this wasn’t that serious for me. Obviously not for you, either.”

Gojo winces. Everything she has said so far has been true, but he wishes it wasn’t.

“Iori, I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t even realize that…that I was doing that,” Gojo sighs. “And to answer your question—I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I think I owe it to you. I don’t know what’s going on either, and that’s what scares me. I have no idea what they want or what they’re plotting, but it can’t be anything good.”

Utahime sits there with a small smirk on her face. When he raises an eyebrow at her expression, she just chuckles and shakes her head. “You can’t even say their name. Just how much denial are you in?”

He can’t even answer. He just sits there, a hand brushing his cheeks in order the cover the warmth the rises at the mention of the depth of his denial concerning his feelings for you.

When she realizes he isn’t going to answer, Utahime rises out of her seat. “Well, I guess I can say I’m officially breaking up with you, not that you or I really care. Just…if you need help with this, just know I’m in your corner, yeah? Unless it’s something to do with Gakuganji, and in that case my hands would be tied. Otherwise, just ask. You know, I wasn’t joking when I said I rooted for you guys in high school. That’s a fact and I can’t deny it.

You should really figure this out—for their sake. It sounds like they’re not having the best time with it. And besides, as much as it pains me to say it, you owe it to yourself after fighting against whatever feelings you have had for them for so many years.”

He doesn’t interrupt her even once, instead quietly absorbing her advice. He fidgets at the mention of his feelings for you, still uncomfortable even at the thought of them. Still scared.

“Goodbye for now, Satoru. I hope you figure all this shit out. Have a nice lunch,” She says coldly as she readies her things. Her coldness stings a bit, but what else could he expect?

“Oh, one last thing,” Utahime pauses. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask me this, but I guess you’re too in over to head right now to think straight. I think I might know partly why they have taken an interest in (Y/N).”

Gojo’s gaze turns to her sharply, blue eyes bright with curiosity behind his shades. “Why? How do you know?”

“I think the higher-ups must have asked Yaga about them. I forgot until now, but they were asking me if I knew anything about (Y/N)‘s identity. And who would know better than anyone? Your nosey principal who digs deep on everyone,” She rolls her eyes, huffing out a small but humorless laugh. “Well, that should be it then. Bye, ex-boyfriend.”

She gives him one last look, then struts away with her head held high. He sincerely hopes she isn’t hurting too much, despite her very “okay with it” façade.

So it has to do with your identity? In Satoru’s view, you have somewhat of an average identity for a sorcerer. A grade one sorcerer who comes from a sorcerer family. You had not inherited your clan’s special innate technique, but you are still pretty strong regardless. There’s nothing unusual about your background, or at least to the best of his knowledge.

And yet this sickening feeling has begun to creep into his stomach, that feeling that something is horribly wrong. What he does not know is what he cannot control, and each heartbeat and breath of his feels tortured with the knowledge that you may not be safe.

Shoko won’t stop texting you, almost on the hour, despite your radio silence. It’s strange when you think about it—she has always hated texting, always grumbling that it’s going to give her carpal tunnel someday. And yet here she is, blowing up your phone with notifications.

You haven’t been to school in weeks, taking mission after mission instead. It’s very obvious that you’ve been avoiding Shoko and Gojo, but you won’t admit that.

The missions have been grueling and gruesome—your stomach turns when the curses you exorcised spring to mind. They were ghastly and frankly were some of the most mentally scarring curses you’ve encountered. So, you’ve decided to take a break.

You feel your skin crawl when you’re sitting at home doing nothing—the curses come to mind much more easily, and also thoughts of him—so you abandon being cozy for the sake of your mind. It’s cold outside, so cold that your breath greets you in a cloud with every puff of air you release. Winter has arrived, and it nips at your cheeks and numbs your extremities just to remind you.

You haven’t been coping well, and you know it. Avoiding thoughts of Gojo has not been working very well, even after physically avoiding him. You try to forget what you heard that day, but it won’t escape your mind no matter how much you distract yourself. You think of Utahime: her beauty, her quiet strength, of how she always seems so calm and collected and yet somehow always makes her voice heard. She has everything that you lack.

The skin of your face burns with envy when you think about her. And when you picture her with Gojo—her dark eyes looking into his pooling blue depths, her leaning forward and up to kiss him—your chest crumbles in on itself.

It hurts. Right now, everything surrounding Gojo Satoru hurts.

But today, you will change that. This will definitely help. You’ve taken yourself out of your apartment and straight into a place that has always lifted your spirits—the local florist.

You scour the aisles, wincing at the very romantic red roses and the bright yellow daffodils. But then something catches your eye: an array of festive bouquets.

You end up picking out a bouquet fit for the season: it features a string of cranberries, enveloped by branches of pine and pinecones, with a striped garland draped around it all. Despite all of your poisonous feelings inside, you crack a small smile at the sight.

You take it home, putting care into the beautiful and yet flowerless bouquet. You carefully mix the plant food into a vase full of cool water, cut the ends of the stems under running water, then submerge the bouquet.

It brings a sense of homeliness that you’ve been desperately missing ever since you’ve starting living on your own. It almost soothes the ache in your chest.

But, as always, reality swoops in to remind you that you cannot run from your feelings within. Within only minutes of arranging the new bouquet, you accidentally swipe at the vase. It crashes to the floor, the glass shattering everywhere, glinting beautifully as it spins through the air. The cranberries begin to bleed into the water, the impact too much for them to tolerate.

You bend down, slowly processing the collision. When you stare into the expanding pool of water, you see wild eyes brimming with pain. Brimming with heartache. It is then that you are painfully reminded what cranberries represent: a cure for heartache.

The irony is not lost on you. You begin to howl in laughter, and the voice that reverberates back to you sounds crazed.

Then, it begins. You abruptly stop breathing; you are choked, silenced, almost as if something is blocking your airway. And then your throat begins to convulse, an instinctual reaction to choking, and you have no choice but to obey your body. You stumble through the shards of glass and collapse at the foot of your toilet. You heave and heave—whatever is lodged in your throat is large, making it difficult and painful to retch up.

When you finally use enough force to hack up the offending object, you freeze at the sight in front of you. Vibrant hydrangeas the same color as his eyes float in a murky red cloud. Blue hydrangeas: a symbol of rejection and regret.

Your chest bursts in pain at the realization. You are in love with Gojo Satoru, and he doesn’t love you back.

You feel another bloom emerging from within. You shudder in fear, knowing that you have little time left. Once the flowers present themselves, death is almost always imminent.

You spend the next few hours by the toilet, conjuring a newer, more painful bouquet than the one that lays in shattered remains in your living room.

“You told them what?” Gojo exhales deeply, a sigh following his exasperated words. He pinches the bridge of his nose—a gesture uncharacteristic for someone as self-assured as him.

“That (Y/N) is important to you,” Yaga Masamichi states calmly. “Satoru, there is no reason to fret. Their intentions concerning this matter are pure.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? The higher-ups intentions are anything but pure.”

“I can sense that you are agitated,” He observes, eyebrows beginning to furrow. “But you are blinded by your bias. They first and foremost protect our community. (Y/N) is of no threat to Jujutsu society, thus they should be in no danger.”

“You don’t understand,” Gojo shakes his head. He is clearly angry, but now his nerves are showing through more: his voice is uneven and his tone has an air of desperation. “The higher-ups are out to get them. I don’t have any answers for that, even though I’ve been searching for months. I’ve had to show indifference towards (Y/N) to convince them that there is nothing between us, and it was starting to work. Why did you tell them this without consulting me first?”

A frown etches Masamichi’s stony features. Behind his shaded glasses, his eyes rake over his former student, taking in his state. Gojo isn’t one to openly show fear or anxiety, yet his breathing is audibly shaky and his fingers twitch by his side.

“I see I have made a mistake,” Masamichi concedes. “But why are you so convinced the higher-ups have ill intentions toward them?”

Gojo begins to pace back and forth in front of Yaga’s desk—also very unlike him.

“They called me to meet them a few months ago, asking what my relationship with (Y/N) is. I brushed it off at first and basically told them to stop sticking their nose into my business, but then I started to notice something.”

Gojo pauses by a window. The light streams down onto his face, illuminating his rather uncommonly stoic portrait.

“They started assigning (Y/N) missions that were labeled as second or first grade, but actually turned out to be special grade. And it can’t be coincidental—the incident rate of this happening is much higher for (Y/N)’s assignments than any other person.”

“That does seem to be true,” Masamichi comments, thinking back to reports he’s reviewed.

“No, not seem,” Gojo snaps. “That is the reality of this situation. Ever since I realized that, I’ve acted coldly towards (Y/N), distancing myself as much as possible. And guess what? No more special grade missions. Less injuries. And—”

“Satoru!” Masamichi raises his voice, pulling Gojo out of his frantic spiel. He blinks in surprise; he didn’t even realize how much or how fast he has been speaking.

“I don’t know what they are thinking or planning, but stressing like this will not help the situation. This is our world; this is how they operate,” Masamichi says, leaning forward and resting his chin on steepled fingers. “We will find a way around this.”

“It shouldn’t be like this,” Gojo says, voice rumbling deep and low, dangerously quiet.

“They are resistant to change,” Masamichi counters. “We can’t directly influence their decisions.”

“Not if they can’t make them anymore,” Satoru snorts, a dark and bitter smirk curling his lips.

“That is completely out of the question,” Yaga says firmly in a warning tone.

“Their thinking is antiquated,” Gojo argues. “I think we need a complete refresh.”

“And yours is too radical and rash. No, Gojo. I will not even entertain your idea.” Yaga says with a note of finality.

“Won’t you let me have my fun?” Gojo sighs, exaggerating his disappointment. “You’re such a drag, old man.”

Yaga almost smiles. He’s back to his normal antics.

“So, there is nothing that you can think of that would cause the higher-ups to go after them like this? I know you looked into all of your students closely even before you became principal. You must know something.”

Yaga frowns. You were his student and, as Gojo claims, he did thoroughly look into your background. But—how can you truly be thorough when the information presented is so little?

“There was little to nothing on them,” Yaga says. “Even when I tried digging further, I didn’t find much. However…there are rumors that they have made a Binding Vow.”

“A Binding Vow?” Gojo echoes back. “That’s very vague. That can mean practically anything.”

“But it’s still interesting, is it not?” Yaga says with a wry smile. “If the higher-ups have heard, we can only assume that the Binding Vow is with another entity, not with themselves. Otherwise, why would they be interested? That is assuming this is true, of course.”

“Who did you hear this from?” Gojo asks. “Someone credible?”

“I’m not sure about their credibility. And you can’t really go out and interrogate them, even if you wanted to. If you did, there would be another expectation for your visit.”

Gojo grows suspicious from his obvious attempt at a non-answer, “Yaga, who?”

He sighs, “Geto Suguru.”

There’s silence. Then, Gojo cackles—it’s a bitter and sardonic laugh, slightly crazed as well—and shakes his head.

“Of course. Of course it was from him,” Gojo continues laughing, a hand covering his face this time. “Guess you’re right—there’s no avenue for conversation there. In that case, I’ve gotta go. See ya, old man.”

Yaga bristles at the nickname, but does not attempt chastise Gojo as he walks away without waiting for Yaga’s response. It simply doesn’t work, so why waste his breath?

Gojo walks out, digging his cell phone out of his pocket. He opens his text conversation with you, fingers twitching over the keyboard. But what would he even say? The last texts are all from you, scattered over a few weeks from literal months ago. He didn’t respond to any of them. He feels the need to contact you, but how would he even start that? ‘Hey, I know I’ve been ignoring you for months, but I heard that you might have told Geto that you made a Binding Vow and I think the higher-ups know about it.’

Nope. That’s not gonna work. He swipes the texting app out of existence, then locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket.

He leans back on the pillar, resting his head while he closes his eyes. Why does everything surrounding you have to be so complicated? Then, a series of hurried footsteps meets his ears, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is. Gojo is ambushed by someone he hasn’t seen for a few days—your mutual friend, Shoko.

“I heard what happened from Utahime,” She says immediately.

Gojo exhales loudly, not even trying to conceal his annoyance, “Shoko, I really don’t have time for this right now.”

“No. Tell me what’s going on.” She says firmly, her tone hard.

“What? We broke up. What’s more to say?” Gojo says dismissively.

“No, Gojo. That’s not all there is. Things have been going on. She told me that she’s concerned for (Y/N) but wouldn’t tell me more. And it just so happens that I have been texting them just about every day for weeks and have heard nothing back. Tell me there’s ‘nothing more to say’ again! Because obviously something is going on.”

Gojo inhales sharply, his breath suspended at her words. He shifts his weight forward, finally leaning away from the pillar. Shoko takes notice of his surprise.

She sighs, deciding to clarify one detail, “They’ve still been taking missions so I assume that they’re fine…but they’ve never ghosted me like this. Even back then, when Geto…they didn’t…agh. Well, you know what I’m saying. I don’t know what they’re thinking.”

He only really gathered one thing from that. So you’re safe for now. Gojo recovers, his expression evening out into something more normal.

“Shoko, I don’t want to complicate things further,” Gojo sighs. “Too many people are already involved in this, ones I had no intention of involving. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I should say anything.”

“You ass!” She shouts at him, making his eyes widen under his blindfold. Shoko never blows up like this—she’s always indifferent and sort of passive. “They’re my friend too, and I want to know what’s going on!”

“I don’t know what’s going on!” Gojo blurts out. Shoko blinks rapidly, shocked by the volume of his voice. He hates getting emotional like this, but he can’t help it when he’s so fucking worried. “I don’t know, Shoko. The higher-ups have been probing into my life, but this time– this time it’s about them, and I don’t know why they want to know. I don’t know what they’re looking for. I’m just praying every day that they stop, but then somebody else in our circle tells me that the higher-ups keep mentioning them. I don’t know what’s going on, but it can’t be good.”

She looks at him, finally noticing how…un-Gojo-like he looks and sounds. Worrying about others isn’t something that Gojo does, or at least not something he ever speaks about. He never has his brow creased like he does right now. He doesn’t bite his lip in worry, either, so why is he biting down so hard he’s almost pulling blood?

“Okay,” Shoko yields. “Okay. I believe you. I didn’t realize…I didn’t believe that you still cared so much.”

“You don’t even know,” He mutters under his breath, but Shoko still hears it. She acts like she doesn’t.

“Well, if you hear anything, tell me, okay?” Shoko asks him with a low exhale. “They’re really stressing me out.”

She pulls out a lighter and a cigarette, prepared to light up. The blinks, and the cigarette now lays on the ground, mysteriously absent from her grip.

“Fuck you,” She grumbles. “You know, that’s littering.”

She hates to say it, but her chest, heavy with worry, lightens a bit as his regular smirk spreads across his face. She feels a bit more hopeful as Gojo disappears in front of her, the wind from the teleportation blowing her hair and lab coat around furiously.

“If only you two weren’t idiots, this mess might have solved itself ages ago,” She chuckles to herself. “The densest people I know.”

Your lungs ache. You wheeze with each breath. You blink blearily, rubbing your eyes with one hand. You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep while you’ve been laying on the cold tile in your bathroom. The air is tinged with iron—the smell of your own blood curdles your stomach.

“What time is it?” You mutter to yourself, and jolt at the sound of your own voice. It’s raspy and weak; you almost don’t recognize it as being your own.

Your hands skate across the smooth tile as you try to locate your phone. When you finally do, you grab it and bring it close to your face. Your eyes, barely cracked open, ache at the bright light of your screen.

The time reads as 3:31 AM. You’ve really been here for that long? Under the time, a plethora of texts from Shoko appear. You groan and slam your phone back down on the ground, ignoring the guilt that rises from how long you’ve been flat out ignoring your friend.

I’m being just like Gojo. Your lips curl down at the realization.

You feel a wave of weakness wash over you, and you are forced to lay back down on the ground. You are half conscious, vision swimming half through dream and half through reality. You can barely think, barely process your own actions.

You feel cold metal in your hands, smooth glass under your fingers. You are tapping randomly, the light blinding you so much that you can’t open your eyes to see what exactly you’re doing.

All you hear is your own horrible breath. And then you hear a voice.

“(Y/N)? You called me?”

You blink blankly in confusion. Did you? You can only assume that you did.

“‘Guess so,” You try to say, but you can barely get it out with how sore your throat is. “Who…who is it?”

“What do you mean? You called me, silly.” They say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 3 am. Are you drunk or something?”

Why can’t you recognize their voice? Their voice sounds underwater to you. Your head is spinning so much and your ears begin to ring. Your feel yourself slipping from reality.

You hear yourself saying words, but you don’t remember thinking them.

“No…gonna pass out. Or die. Can’t tell.”

“What? (Y/N), what’s going on? Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you right now.”

You swear you know that voice. It’s deep and smooth, but filled with so much worry that you barely recognize it. He’s never sounded this scared before.

“Oh, you’re…you’re Satoru,” You wheeze out. “Why? Why you?”

You’re not making much sense, you don’t think. But you can’t, not with how far from reality you are right now.

You called him? It’s just too painful, too cruel a fate, that you accidentally called the man you’re in love with and who doesn’t love you back while you’re knocking on death’s door. You cough violently and choke on the bloody petals that rise to your throat. You wince in pain and struggle to breathe.

He is bordering on panic now, but he fights to keep it out of his voice. “It’s okay, (Y/N), just tell me where you are. You’re on a mission, r-right? I’ll come get you. Just hold on.”

Confusion floods your brain. A mission? Are you on a mission? Is that why the scent of blood is clogging your nose?

Your heart beat pounds in your head, faster and faster. It’s scary just how confused you are—how do you not know where you are?

“I don’t know,” You choke out. You didn’t even realize you were crying. “I don’t know where I am.”

“It’s okay, c-can you check your phone for me? It’ll tell you your location. Just open it and–” His breathing is fast. “And check in your maps. Please. Please (Y/N), I need you to do this for me. Then–then everything will be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” You answer softly. “How do–”

You startle at the sound of a loud bang, your own gasp cutting off your words.

The door to your bathroom—that’s where you are—is knocked down, nearly missing your form where you lay on the tile.

Satoru is calling your name desperately, his voice louder with each repetition of your name. You can’t decipher any other words, but you know he’s shouting things, trying to get you to say something, to say anything so that he knows you’re okay.

A dark shape towers over you. You can’t make out who it is with your blurry vision and with how dark it is—but you are immediately intimidated by their large, broad frame.

“There you are,” They snarl. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this to happen. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

You scramble to get up, grabbing your phone while you unsteadily rise on your shaky legs. You are an inch away from passing out and you fight the feeling with every ounce of your strength.

“Not looking too good, are we?” He says, tutting mockingly. “That’s perfect. Remember what we agreed on, my dear (Y/N)?”

You stare at him blankly, no recognition in your eyes.

“Silly me! Of course you don’t remember. That was intentional, you know. A good move on my part,” He chuckles, and it’s a soft sound that juxtaposes his words. “While you’re the one who has to suffer. Don’t blame me too much, though…this is all situational. It’s not like I ever disliked you or anything. It just has to be like this.”

You hear Satoru’s voice again, and this time it sounds dangerous, “Who the fuck is that?”

Anger runs through the man’s features, and he strikes the hand that carries your phone harshly. You yelp loudly both in surprise and in pain. Your phone clatters to the ground, instantly silenced. Probably broken beyond repair.

His words are chastising and almost playful, but he is furious. “You shouldn’t talk to him anymore, (Y/N). That’s not part of our agreement.”

Then he grabs hold of you and begins dragging you out of the room. You scream loudly, kicking and punching him as much as you can as you’re moved against your will. You are a strong sorcerer, but all of your cursed energy and strength has been sapped away by this horrible disease that afflicts you. You are powerless to stop this man.

There’s one thing you were mistaken about. With the crunch your phone made as it shattered against the ground, you assumed it was completely broken. That’s only partly true: the speakers were damaged, no sound coming out, but your phone actually survived. Your microphone continued to pick up every scream and cry you made as you were dragged against your will—kidnapped. He heard every whimper of pain and every plea of yours for the man to stop! and to let you go!

Even in this state, your heart would ache if you had heard the unadulterated fear that gripped his voice as he shouted and screamed for you through his phone.

Even if you didn’t recognize the man who manhandled you out of your apartment, Gojo Satoru has no doubts about who it was. It makes his blood boil thinking about it—he’s never going to forgive him for this, even if they used to be best friends.

a/n 2: Thank you so much for reading, it means a lot!! This got a bit out of my hands, I will admit…I ended up writing some details I hadn’t planned on (and a lot more lol) 😅 But I think it actually makes it more interesting!

TAGLIST: @certainduckanchor @kawaiivillainess98 @arehzhera @starrylibras @mandysfanfics @rain-and-a-nice-nap @csillana @sup-hoes-its-me @llliissuu @hawkdaddy1111 @unoriginalidea

@dcvilxswish @angel-kyo @eliz-lovesgojo @5268r @wooasecret @timetobegone @ceronnica @torusblindfold @mo0nforme @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @dasztasha

@soapysofi @qualitygiantshoepsychic

Some of these tags didn’t work, but I hope it still tags you…Lmk if I typed anything in wrong haha. 😌

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo behavior #jjk fanfic #gn!reader #Gojo is kinda smart but also an idiot at the same time #gojo hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #angst

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cerise-on-top · 4 days

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hi :D if you do character x character (with possibly x reader, too) headcanons, may i request nikprice hcs? aghh.. i love them so much, but there's (in my opinion) little content of them compared to other ships.. if you do have to add reader into it too thats okay :) i don't mind poly (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

but besides that how are you doing? i hope youre doing good :]

Hey there! I'm doing well, thank you! I've actually got five days off next week, which I'm really looking forward to! Plus I get to go to my regular department again too soon enough! But unfortunately, the other apprentice left me with so much work ^^;

NikPrice and NikPrice x Reader

NikPrice:

Although the two of them may be a bit older than some of their peers, they can still be considered idiots, especially when they’re with one another. Sometimes they get weirdly competitive with each other, which can result in either of them getting hurt. Nikolai leads Chimera and Price leads the TF141, both of them sometimes need to show off just how good they are at some things. Nikolai is usually a pretty calm guy, but he does get a bit cocky with Price, so he’ll instigate some competitions. Who can carry the most groceries. Who can find the most dogs and take pictures with them. Who will be favored the most for the week among their boys. It’s just dumb things, and Nikolai does try to cheat his way through most of them, but Price knows him well enough by now to know how he will try to weasel his way into victory. Price usually plays fair and forces Nikolai to do the same. The winner gets bragging rights and that’s about it. Sometimes they poker on who pays for dinner, but they don’t really mess around too much when it comes to more serious stuff. However, they both also compete with each other to show off just how good of a partner they are, even if there’s no need to do that anymore. They can both be proud as peacocks and always need to outdo one another.

Although it may sound stupid, the two of them do spar with each other from time to time. Since they’re about equal in strength it’s actually quite interesting to watch the two of them fight, both have a pretty good technique as well. However, Nikolai has more experience under his belt since he’s quite a bit older than Price. Again, he’s also not above cheating by trying to entice Price with just about anything he can think of. They’re adults, they’re leaders, but they are still morons with each other. Sometimes they fight over the TV remote when Price wants to watch his football game and Nikolai wants to tease him. Price gets mad every time he misses the football game just because he lost to his stupid lover. Nikolai gets a good laugh out of it every time. Although he may love Price more than anyone else, he can be a playful and cocky bastard at times. He makes up for it by taking Price to a real football game in a stadium, though. Can’t enrage the boyfriend too much all the time. Price is usually overjoyed when he does since he gets really into it. There’s nothing better than enjoying some football with Nikolai. Unless Nikolai teases Price about his team losing. In that case the two of them won’t be talking more than necessary for an hour. However, Price goes back to normal after the initial anger of his team losing has worn off.

Nikolai is actually a chef of the master class. He can cook just about anything and make it well at that too. Since he’s been pretty much everywhere at this point he’s learned quite a few recipes from all around the world. He also knows how to use his spices well. Though, his favorite recipes to make are still Russian ones. The two of them cook together often, it relaxes them. Besides, Price gets the privilege of eating Nikolai’s pirozhki before anyone else does. It’s an honor to him since he’s never had anything better in his life. Loves being Nikolai’s taste tester as well. Price isn’t as good a cook as Nikolai, but he does like showing his appreciation for all the good food by cooking something in return. However, his food is kind of bland. It could be worse, but it could also use a lot more spices. Nikolai used to tease Price about that before, but he’s stopped since as Price really does put a lot of effort into cooking for Nikolai. The latter really isn’t so mean to genuinely hurt his boyfriend like that. He does give Price some constructive criticism, though. Offers to help with cooking next time, but both of them know that Nikolai will just take the lead. But in the end, they both really do enjoy cooking with each other, regardless of who makes the main dish. They also get really chatty during it.

NikPrice x Reader

Considering how long they’ve been with each other, they've gotten used to it, but you genuinely cannot cuddle them during summer. You’ll become a sweaty mess and won’t be able to sleep at all since they’re both very warm. Nikolai more so than Price. However, the two of them can cuddle each other just fine since they’re used to warmer nights because of all the missions they’ve gone on. However, it’s pretty nice in winter. They’re two big, burly and warm men who love to make you feel toasty. Price is actually a pretty cuddly guy and Nikolai can be too with the right people. If you’re not on the cuddly side then they’ll settle for giving you a pat on the back every once in a while or just holding your hand. But Price loves touching you and Nikolai. He doesn’t need to do it every single waking moment, but it’s nice to hold your loved ones. Nikolai can go either way, but he’s pretty cuddly with Price. Sometimes the two of them fight over who gets to be the big spoon, other times they’ll just plop into each other’s arms. If you’re shorter than them then you’ll likely get sandwiched between them. If you’re as tall or taller than them then they might ask you to take on the role of big spoon. Sure, they won’t mind it when you’re shorter than them, but they’ll chuckle since you’re just a little backpack.

Both of them will try to teach you how to fight and defend yourself. Even if you’re capable of that already, they’ll teach you something anyway. They’re both military men, they know what they’re talking about. Besides, it’s not as unlikely as one might think that you might get hurt because of them. You need to be able to defend yourself. They’ll take turns teaching you, improving your form and all. They’ll sometimes even deliberately spar in front of you so you could learn something from them fighting with each other. They won’t be as rough with you as they are with each other, especially not if you’re not part of the military, but they’ll be diligent in teaching you either way. If you’re part of the military then they’ll be rougher with you, but not as rough as with each other. Nikolai and Price have known each other for so long, they know where each other’s limits are. You’re the newest addition, so there’s still things they need to get to know. But I can assure you they will take good care of you. They’ll also reward you if you’re doing especially well during your little training lessons. Nikolai tries to bribe you into doing well by offering to cook your favorite meal if you do so.

The two of them actually spoil you rotten, especially if you don’t earn as much money as they do. Nikolai earns even more money than Price, so he has quite a lot to spend. Loves buying you and him all kinds of things. These can range from something useful to just something he saw and thought you might like. Price doesn’t like being indebted to people, so he always tries to buy Nikolai something back, even insisting that he shouldn’t buy him as many things. Nikolai never listens to him in that regard. And since Price buys Nikolai things he has to buy something for you as well. Sometimes it’s just your favorite kind of cake, sometimes it’s some nice and expensive jewelry. It’s always a mystery with Price. You don’t have to feel obligated to buy them something either. You’re more than welcome to if you have the finances to do so, but if you usually barely get by then you really shouldn’t have to. In fact, if you don’t have a lot of money then the two of them will pay for just about anything you need. Clothes, food, other necessities. It doesn’t matter. Together they have more money than they know what to do with anyway. It’s nice to spend it on someone you love and make them happy anyway. Don’t pay them back, they’ll find your bank account and return the money. They love you, let them pamper you like the little royalty you are.

#cod #cod x reader #cod nikolai #john price #nikolai x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #nikprice #nikprice x reader #I never really thought about writing charxchar on this blog in all honesty #but I suppose I can do it if more requests like this come in :] I doubt it but I'm willing to do it #I loved working on this because they may be smart but they're also complete and utter dumbasses #they're smart when it counts let's leave it at that #I actually have thought about being in a relationship with NikPrice before but I sometimes throw Graves into the mix as well #there's nothing wrong about yearning to be in a relationship with some men who could buy you something nice #and who would actually love you #see fictional characters are actually really good because they will always love you if you want them to #ugh I wanna cuddle these idiots so bad which is funny because I'm actually touch averse 95% of the time #but I just know that a good thorough cuddle session from those men would put me in a really good mood

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