And Just Like That.. I’m Back On My Bucky Barnes Bullshit.

And just like that.. I’m back on my Bucky Barnes bullshit.

More Posts from Solace-inu and Others

solace-inu

3 years ago

117K notes View Post

solace-inu

1 year ago

I THINK I'M LOST AGAIN

7 days in beautiful Tuscany, 1 big wedding which would change the trajectory of your life. As Shoko’s maid of honour, your job was already demanding enough without bringing up the fact that you would be seeing your college ex again, Gojo Satoru, the best man for the same wedding— five years after his mysterious disappearance.

・❥・ex-lovers to ??, wedding au, no curses, gojo is misunderstood, reader is sassy, shoko and geto are tired, gojo is a secretive mf, yu haibara is a ray of sunshine, suggestive content, mentions of pregnancy, yn throws a punch here, everyone is unhinged, mentions of injury, heavy angst, mentions of class divides, language, mentions of murder, a car crash, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cigarettes, slowburn, mentions of cheating, reader and satoru were once engaged

𖨆♡𖨆 ceo!gojo satoru x female!reader

・❥・ wc: 2,4k+

The sound of the gurgling pipes overhead this dingy bathroom along with the bass humming underneath your platform boots were the only sounds your ringing ears could make out.

Silence, shattered and broken in between two best friends, came straight after her devastating question.

“What?”

When Shoko Ieiri asked you to be her maid of honour during one drunken night out in downtown Shibuya, there was nothing you could do but excitedly say ‘yes’.

The huge rock on her finger, a sign of her forever love with none other than Geto Suguru, was the star of the show for the entire evening, that you had zero suspicions as to why she tugged you into the club’s bathroom, a grimace on her dusky rose-hued lips.

“There’s something you need to know.”

Three shots in, you giggled, looking scandalised. “What? Are you and Suguru-hic-pregnant?”

Ieiri made a face, shaking her head in disgust. “Ew. Don’t manifest such shit for me. It’s about you, actually.”

Deciding to rip the bandaid faster than you could yell out wait! Shoko exhaled out:

“Gojou Satoru. Remember him? I mean of course you do, you dated him. He’s um—he’s Getou’s best man for the same wedding… PleasedonthatemeIammsosorry.”

You felt like you were strapped in the back of a car going 200 down a highway.

“What?” you almost shrieked, piercing the dingy air with your disbelief. Not even a cold shower could sober you up faster than the mention of your ex-boyfriend.

Despite it being five years since you saw the white-haired demon, his legacy was astounding. Eyeing your empty ring finger, you swallowed harshly.

“Ieiri… why would Geto do this?”

He was your friend, too. Didn’t Suguru care for you? Wasn’t he the one there to pick up the pieces of your trust that Satoru fractured so casually one night when all three of you were out in a club?

“They’ve been friends since they were in diapers,” Shoko murmured, wincing when you groaned. “I’m so sorry. I tried to change his mind, but he’s adamant. He really wants Satoru to come with us to Tuscany.”

You had to lean against the sink, arms crossed over your chest to absorb this piece of news. “Does Satoru know?”

Even saying his name burned.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to even think of him since the night you found him…

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the thoughts, you winced.

“He does. But, Geto said he seemed pretty chill about it.”

When you didn’t say anything, Shoko reached out to you, rubbing your arm. “Come on. It’s been five years. I bet Satoru regrets what he did and he’s willing to at least be nice. Can you do this? For me?”

She twisted her lips into a pout and widened her eyes, the effect comical from her deep set eye bags late nights at the hospital gave her. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes for a split second to ward off the migraine festering in your right temple.

“Fine.”

Sunshine split across her face like the dawn of a new day, and you sincerely hoped the twinge of resentment you felt flickering in your chest would not drown out her happiness.

Shoko deserves this. She went through so much to get this ring—from Getou’s stuffy upper class parents to his equally snobbish friends—and you couldn’t bear to ruin her hope.

You sighed. “But, if he’s creepy with me, I deserve the right to sock him right in his face.”

His stupid, handsome, fucking pale face. Your venomous thoughts spilled out onto your murderous expression, tinging them with righteous violence—you could never really hide your emotions from your best friend.

Ieiri laughed, throwing her head back and clutching her midsection. The pretty, blue pastel dress she wore for tonight’s announcement party showed off her curves and delicate collarbones perfectly. You loved her too much to ever make her sad, and forced yourself to swallow the apprehension, going through with the motions to see both your friends happy.

“Don’t worry, you know I’ll help you to hide the body. Always.”

You flashed her a smile and defrosted your stiff limbs to wrap one arm around her.

“And that’s why I love you so much… bitch.”

Lavish Italian sunlight spilled onto the marble floors, warming your white-tipped toes.

You stepped out onto the stone-tiled balcony and caught sight of Maki pushing Mai into the pool, her shrill complaints reaching the third floor of this glamorous villa. Fronds and ivy edged the walls, and the huge private pool would be the scene where Geto and Shoko would profess their lifetime love for each other. In the distance was a small greenhouse which grew the prettiest lilies you had ever seen—a flower native to Tuscany which held a huge meaning for everyone in your entourage.

When you had seen pictures of this gem on AirBnb, the first thing you asked Shoko was how much it cost. Your friend had then waved you off and shared that Geto would be footing most of the expenses—perks of a boyfriend who came from old money.

At least I have my own room to unwind and relax. It was good to have some time alone to yourself before the groom's party came. Shoulders aching and heart racing, you drew in a few deep breaths to centre yourself.

Mai was splashing water onto Maki, and from somewhere inside the kitchen, you heard Nobara yelling at them to not slip and fall. Chuckling to yourself, you almost didn’t hear a pair of footsteps coming behind you.

With your hair tousled, dark circles pronounced, and smelling of a 17 hour direct flight, you spun around and met a pair of crystalline ocean-blue eyes.

They were glazed over with a softness you had not seen for five years, though the same mouth you remembered kissing over and over again was puckered into a smirk.

Your breath was stolen from you, and it felt like someone had sucker punched you right in the gut.

Gojo Satoru stood before you in a neatly pressed suit and tie, looking like pure perfection under the warm, orange sunset, the shadows throwing his angular features into greater clarity.

“Y/N—”

Your feet moved you towards him before your brain could catch up, and he relaxed, as if expecting you to pull him into your embrace and welcome him back after what he did to you.

The long nights you spent crying, typing up a long paragraph to send to him only to delete it because you were sure he would ghost you—came flashing through your mind.

Satoru’s smile dissolved bit by bit when he noticed your tensed shoulders and clenched fists.

“Baby—”

Your palm flew right into face, knocking his smug grin right off.

“I can’t believe you would do something like this to him!”

Shoko wanted to sound angry, but you couldn’t take her seriously, not when she was holding a bag of frozen peas and had a flower crown perched on her head.

“One hour. I left you alone for one hour—”

“He started it first,” you muttered hotly, scowling at your throbbing knuckles.

According to Geto, Satoru had decided to take the earlier flight to surprise Shoko, the both of them having not seen each other for the past two years. But, even the groom had no idea why his best man chose to stumble into your room when Shoko’s was right down the hall.

You liked to think he was there to spite you.

Ieiri sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “What exactly did he say?”

“He called me baby.”

The silence after your admittance burned hotter than a thousand humiliations. You came to the realisation of your hasty actions the very second those words left your grimacing mouth.

“And you punched him. Right in the face. For calling you baby?”

You could tell Shoko was barely holding it together, but in your defence, Gojo Satoru was a 6 foot 3 walking trigger for you.

“He doesn’t deserve the right to call me that.”

Shoko’s shoulders dropped a little at the sad note in your confession.

“Babe… I think it’s high time you try to let this go. Satoru is older now, and—”

“He didn’t even call me,” your whisper ricocheted around the room with the force of an armed squad, drawing the atmosphere right into the war’s heart. Your conflict unfurled like an old, bloodstained scroll, finally revealed for the world to see. Shoko had spent years trying to get you to open up about your fallout with Satoru with little luck.

This was the first time you were volunteering to give any information without any coercion.

You clutched your chest with two trembling fists, trying hard not to break eye contact with the floor in case the flood of sorrow collecting at your lash line would break their composure and slide down your cheeks.

“After I found out about him and Mei Mei… he stopped texting me. He didn’t even come to find me and we live just five minutes away from each other. He—” you broke off, biting down on your lower lip.

You felt the bed beside you dip, and a pair of calming arms surrounding you.

“He was an ass—I’ll give him that,” Shoko hummed empathetically. “But, you’ve done so much better for yourself now. You’re the Head of Production for Tokyo Today. You have your own apartment. You’re even thinking about adopting a puppy. You’ve got shit going on for you, Y/N, and I’m proud of how much you’ve grown. Don’t let a man from your past—a man like Satoru—make it all feel trivial, okay?”

You sniffed, nodding weakly. Wiping at your cheeks, you finally summoned enough courage to look up into your best friend’s gentle face. The beauty mark under her right eye always seemed to crinkle more when she smiled, and you adored how sweet it made her look.

“Thank you, Ieiri.”

She squeezed your shoulder, standing up.

“I’ve got to refresh that big, whiny baby’s cold compress, but once I’m done, let’s have a drink, okay?”

“Could I also have a smoke?” you asked in a timid voice, anticipating her to lecture you on the demerits of a tobacco addiction—never mind the fact that she smoked a pack in a day.

“Of course,” Shoko said, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “I’ll let you bum one—on one condition.”

“What?” you asked, suddenly terrified. A million scenarios of blackmail flitted through your mind, and you wished you hadn’t opened your mouth to ask for a smoke, not when you explicitly knew how devious your best friend was.

But, her next words left you reeling in shock, wishing you could defy her even if it was her wedding week. You could never go through with it—your clenched jaw spoke volumes.

“Be nice to Satoru.”

For Shoko, you would try despite it feeling like you were swallowing a vat of poison anytime you looked at him.

You would try because unlike that selfish, white-haired bastard, you would never sacrifice someone else’s happiness just for a shot at your own.

“Jesus Christ, Satoru, which bridesmaid did you offend now?”

Yu Haibara’s chirp tone and inoffensive question that was wildly inappropriate at this time was not what the young CEO needed right now.

He grumbled, pressing the bag of peas to his swollen right eye. Gojo had forgotten how strong of a right hook you had.

In fact, Gojo Satoru had almost forgotten a lot of things about you.

From the fall of your hair to how the sunset looked painted across your skin, the foolish skip of his heart was a bigger sign of his crumbling feelings than any other emotion you might have elicited in him.

When Geto had told him you would be in Tuscany too, as part of Shoko’s bridal entourage, he shamelessly begged his oldest friend to let him be a part of his groomsmen.

The dark-haired heir had only laughed, sharing that Satoru had taken the words right out of his mouth—he was about to ask Gojo to be his best man anyway.

But, what Gojo never expected was that stupid slip of endearment to lay waste to his efforts to win you back.

Baby.

Four characters. One word. A world of meaning he could never forget no matter how much time had passed.

It brought him back to late night ramen dates around campus. Staying over at your dorm to study hard for exams which he aced effortlessly only because he loved seeing your face scrunched up in concentration.

Then, the party flashed in his mind.

The lights were blue. He remembered they were blue. There was a drink in his hand, or maybe he had two.

A girl was pressed flush to him, seductively grinding her hips over his twitching bulge.

The alcohol was strong, and it was enough to dull the voices clanging in his head, demanding for him to step away. Put a stop to this before he did something he would regret.

In his mind’s eye, he liked to imagine someone must’ve told you about his sins. That you didn’t have to watch him bend down and steal another white-haired girl’s lips as she giggled into his mouth.

That you didn’t hear how he broke down in the emergency room, screaming his head off with blood on his hands.

“Satoru?”

Suguru’s voice echoed through the tangled mess of his memories. He came back to find a room of men looking at him with varying expressions of curiosity and worry on their faces.

Plastering on his signature grin, Gojo nodded at Haibara, hearing the tail-end of his comment.

“Tough luck out there for us men, huh? She must not have been too interested in me, but you know what—her loss.”

He tossed in a cocky smirk for good measure.

Appearances are everything, Satoru—remember that.

His father’s voice echoed in his mind, unwelcomed and disagreeing with everything Satoru was feeling inside his conflicted chest. He chose to bury the sticky and dangerous emotions six feet under in favour of shrugging, putting on his best, cheerful grin and hoping no one would notice the wavering sheen of wetness glistening in his eyes.

“Oh shit, I forgot—welcome to Tuscany boys.”

continuing this series will rely heavily on feedback and reblogs my bad cause if this flops, i'm gonna go ahead and scrap it to focus on other schtuff kthxbye (i sincerely hope with every fiber of my soul that you enjoyed reading this)

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

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