You Are Part Of Me. (gojo Satoru X Reader)

you are part of me. (gojo satoru x reader)

summary: when gojo satoru loves, he is loud about it. and he doesn’t care if you don’t love him back.

word count: 3604

warnings: fem!reader, friends to lovers, very mild angst, swearing, gojo being gojo, canon compliant storyline

Gojo Satoru enters your life at 16 years old.

His presence suffocates the room, his cursed energy is something not best ignored. Quiet, yet noticeable. Like something that’s bubbling just under the surface. It’s almost as if a very dangerous animal has been reigned in, held back on a leash. That’s how his cursed energy feels to you. You, who is a mere novice. New to the world of curses and sorcery, landing in Jujutsu Tech after everything near and dear to you was ripped from you by this world.

He intimidates you.

He is loud, lean, but very tall. He demands attention when he walks into a room. He is jovial, a little aloof (you're not sure if it’s on purpose), big goofy grin and round, almost comical sunglasses. His hair is so bright, and his eyes are so blue, it’s almost blinding to look at him.

He is everything that you are not.

He is a year older, and your classmate Haibara can never stop talking about him and Geto. Nanami does not enjoy being around them, but he holds them in regard because they are his seniors. Shoko might be the only one he truly respects, and that almost makes you fear her. You make up your mind to try and stay as invisible as possible around them. You do not enjoy the spotlight.

Unfortunately, Gojo thrives in the spotlight, and he has a knack for pulling other people into it with him.

“Oh hello. Fresh meat?” He is grinning down at you, eyes barely visible behind the dark, circular lenses. “And aren’t you cute. You better toughen up sweetcheeks, or the big bad curses are gonna eat you up.”

You don’t know what exactly he means. You’re too caught up in the fact that he called you cute. It makes you heat up under the collar of your brand new jujutsu uniform. And his intense stare makes you fidget.

You do not like it.

You just frown at him and turn away, taking advantage of the fact that Nanami was leaving the room and going along with him. You don’t notice how he stares at the back of your head as you leave, but Geto sure does. The raven haired boy lets out a pained sigh before leaning back on the creaky classroom chair.

“Here we go.”

Gojo hums questioningly, glancing at his best friend once you have left the room.

“You’re going to fixate on her now. And you’re going to be an insufferable prick about it.”

Gojo doesn’t deny it. He merely settles into a chair of his own, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

……………….

Life at Jujutsu Tech isn’t as bad as you expected.

Your room is spacious enough to hold all your belongings. It has a nice view of the gardens, and is warm enough that you sleep comfortably through the nights. Your classmates are easy to get along with. Haibara loves carrying the conversation, and while Nanami isn’t as energetic, he shares a lot of your interests so you love talking to him.

The deep, sorrowful ache in your chest is slowly subsiding. Very slowly. Oftentimes, you remember your old life. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, and you shed tears in the late hours of the night. But they are gone. And you are here. You can’t do anything about it.

And then there’s Gojo Satoru.

For someone who is apparently the ‘strongest’, part of a major jujutsu clan and heir to the infamous Six Eyes, you would think he would be a busy person. But somehow, he finds a way to always be lazing around the campus, and unfortunately, he loves engaging you in conversation.

“Fresh meat!” He hasn’t stopped calling you that. He hasn’t even learned your name. Or introduced himself. Of course, you already know who he is. But it would be the polite thing to do, wouldn’t it?

You would soon learn that Gojo Satoru has no manners, and no amount of scolding could teach him any.

“Heard you took down a fourth grade all by yourself. Congratulations!”

You eye him with a scowl, while all he does is grin back at you.

“You’re mocking me, senpai.”

Gojo places a hand on his chest, gasping so loud it was comical, acting shocked at your accusation.

“I would never!”

You sigh deeply, a regular habit you have developed since the boy had decided to shadow you, continuing to make your way back to your room as he trails behind you. While a fourth grade may not be a big deal to someone like Gojo, it is to you, who has never interacted with, let alone fought a curse.

You open your room door, stepping in and looking back to stare at your senior as he smiles down at you. You wait for him to say something cheeky like he usually does, about how you should invite him in so you can hang out, or his usual ‘let me take you out to dinner’, which he loves tossing around whenever he sees an opening.

“I’m real proud of ya, sweetcheeks.” He says instead, and his voice is softer, having lost the sharp edge that it usually carries.

There it is again, the heat under your collar. The little knot in your throat.

You close your room door in his face.

………………

“He likes you.”

“He doesn’t. He just likes to annoy me.”

“That’s his way of spending time with you.”

“I’d rather he leave me alone, then.”

“That’s an impossible ask.”

The chocolate icing on your brownie melts in your mouth as you chew on it, giving a disdainful look to Utahime who is apparently hell bent on proving this nonexistent crush Gojo seems to have on you. You don’t believe her. Mostly because you don’t think Gojo is capable of liking you, of all people. You also doubt his ability to genuinely give a shit about anyone that isn’t his closest friends. You’re just some underclassman that he thinks is fun to pester every now and then.

(‘Every now and then’ in this context means ‘every possible second of every day’.)

Utahime takes a big gulp on her coffee, and you have to wonder why the hot liquid doesn’t burn her throat as it goes down. Your phone pings again, for the seventh time in the last half hour, and Utahime stares pointedly at the unsaved number on your screen. You swipe the phone off the table quickly and flip the switch to ‘silent mode’.

“You haven’t saved his number? Ouch. He’s not gonna like that.”

You roll your eyes and glare at the screen of your phone. How long has he been texting you with random crap?

“I don’t give a shit what he likes.”

“You will. When he whines about it and never lets it go for the rest of your life.”

You sigh defeatedly and give your friend pleading eyes. “Can we please talk about something else? I see and hear Gojo enough during the day. I don’t need to talk about him with you too.”

When your friend agrees, you are blessed with a wonderful, Gojo-free afternoon of chatting, shopping and excessive eating. You’re still buzzing as you climb up the steps to Jujutsu Tech at sundown, rummaging through the tote bag where you had dropped all your little purchases. Just small knick knacks that made you happy to look at.

“Did ya get me anything?”

You yelp and jump, nearly falling off the step behind you but catching yourself before you can faceplant on the concrete. Gojo lets out an annoying cackle at your reaction, making you glare up at him.

“What is wrong with you?! I could’ve gotten seriously injured!”

He scoffs, walking the few steps between you two, hands buried in his pants pockets. “Like I would let that happen. You gotta trust me more, sweetcheeks.”

You ignore the now familiar way your ears and neck heat up, choosing to walk past him and continue your way up the steps.

“So? Got me anything?”

You groan internally, knowing he wouldn’t leave this alone. If you say no, he will complain about how he isn’t important enough in your life to warrant a little gift. If you then say he isn’t, that will result in even worse (and louder) whining, and you don’t have the energy to deal with that right now. You scramble through the bag slung over your shoulder, pulling out a cute carrot shaped pen with a smiley face on it. You had gotten two pens, one carrot shaped and one that looked like corn. You just thought they were insanely cute. It’s okay. You can afford to lose one.

Gojo eyes the pen when you hand it to him. “Why did ya get me this?”

He clearly knows you just pulled a random object out. He just wants to see what you will say.

“It’s…. tall and thin. You’re tall and thin.” You deadpan.

Gojo snorts, seeing through your very obvious lie. “You love me so much, don’t you?”

You stop in your tracks, watching Gojo’s back as he keeps walking, unaffected by your shocked gaze.

“Senpai-”

“See ya tomorrow!” He calls, twiddling the pen around his fingers as he disappears near the landing of the stairs.

Your heart races at his words. You feel angry and frustrated. But you’re not sure at whom.

………………….

When it’s Shoko’s birthday, you are forced to be around Gojo all day.

It’s a harrowing experience, one that can only be withstood by god’s toughest soldier, and god thinks that is you, apparently, because as per his usual habits, Gojo doesn’t leave you alone.

“Oh, this is nothing.” Geto comments, sipping on some fruity punch that you are almost sure contains alcohol. Both of you watch as Gojo tries to tie a conical party hat on Nanami’s head, while the boy in question puts up a valiant fight to try and keep his upperclassman at bay.

“He once had a crush on the daughter of some prominent gang leader in Tokyo. Almost landed himself in jail with the kind of stunts he pulled.”

You blink at him, watching as he brushes some strands of black hair off his face. “Seriously?”

He nods, smirking at your shocked silence, watching the gears in your head turn. “Don’t worry, he won’t do that to you.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “What makes you sure of that?”

Geto shrugs, watching the way Gojo’s eyes flit to you every now and then. You fail to notice it, too caught up in making up scenarios in your head where Gojo does something potentially illegal and lands both of you in serious trouble.

“You’re different.” Is his simple reply. It does nothing but confuse you more.

Later in the night, Shoko forces you to down an alcoholic drink. You sputter on the horrific taste of it, trying to get out from under her hold as she laughs at your reaction. Haibara enjoys your misery just as much, while Nanami’s face is blank. You are sure he is trying to erase tonight from his memory entirely.

The night is cold, but your hands are warm and your head is buzzing with happiness. Your cheeks hurt from the constant smiling and laughing. Every now and then, your eyes would meet brilliant blue ones. You are so cheerful that you even giggle when Gojo makes some lame pun at Geto’s expense. So cheerful, in fact, that you don’t protest when he decides he wants to walk you to your room.

You hum the song you had sung karaoke to, walking without so much as a thought in your head. Gojo is munching on a mini chocolate bar, one hand in his pocket. For once, he is silent.

When you stop at your door, you turn to look at him, trying to search his eyes. You find nothing, and you feel the sudden urge to know more about him. Geto’s words roam through your head.

“Senpai,” You whisper. “Why am I different?”

He smiles then, not his usual toothy grin, but softer, kinder. It makes him look even younger than he is. Somehow, it seems he knows exactly what you mean.

“Because I’m in love with ya, sweetcheeks.”

He leaves it at that. And you don’t ask any follow up questions.

……………………..

Gojo’s love is loud.

He never says the word after that one night. But he never exactly negates his declaration. He continues to be around you as much as possible. He loves pinching at your cheeks until they sting, loves draping an arm over your shoulder and laying a sloppy kiss on it when he can get away with it. He is much taller and stronger than you, so pushing him away does nothing except spur him on even more. You realize that he is naturally a very touchy-feely person, so you dismiss his affection as just him being annoying as hell. Both of you settle into a strange dynamic, one where he teases you endlessly and you try not to appear affected by it.

It’s unconventional but it works. You will even go as far as saying that he is your friend.

When you refer to him as such, he stares at you mouth agape, before letting out a big whoop and crushing you into a hug. You protest his grip and try to free yourself, failing as usual. Deep in your chest, your heart stutters at his proximity.

Gojo Satoru doesn’t have a single subtle bone in his body.

He introduces you as his girlfriend to curses, claiming it doesn’t matter because they are all stupid and can’t understand him anyway, so he can say what he wants. Besides, he’s gonna kill them mere minutes later. You don’t even know where to begin to fight his logic on that, so you just facepalm and let him do it, provided he doesn’t say it in front of actual people.

“You say it like being my girlfriend would be so bad.”

“It would be the worst thing known to mankind. I would kill myself actually.”

That earns you a very strong pinch on the cheek, one that has you yelping and pushing him away. It leaves behind a red mark that makes you hold back a smile every time you see it in the mirror.

Sometimes you wonder how easy it is for him to talk to you like this. He seems to not have an ounce of fear of rejection, no matter how many times you have told him that you aren’t interested. Like he is confident that it simply isn’t true. He makes it seem effortless, to attach himself to you and declare that you’re his ‘favorite’ person and one day he would be your favorite person too.

You try to ignore how accurate you think that is. And how close he is to actually becoming your favorite person. You can’t possibly let him find that out. He would become even more unbearably smug than he already is.

And so you continue to bask in this…. strange limbo. You warm yourself in the glaringly bright light of Gojo Satoru. And you secretly pray that it never goes away.

When Geto defects, you almost lose him.

You find him on the steps of Jujutsu High, staring out at god knows what, completely silent. In your years of knowing him, you had never seen him sit in one place for so long. He doesn’t even budge when you sit next to him. You don’t say a word. And neither does he.

The wind moves gently through his silver locks. The blue in his eyes has dulled and darkened. You sit on those steps for hours.

Something changes between you two after that evening. Somehow, Gojo is more…. human to you now. You see him struggle to come to terms with what has happened, to truly realise the unfair responsibility that he bears on his shoulders as the strongest sorcerer in the Jujutsu world. You sees how that changes him, how it dims him, and how he matures in that time.

Yet Gojo is still Gojo. Even years later, he continues to love you loudly and proudly. He is still constantly attached at the hip to you, even more so in your adult years now that you live off campus. He is somehow always at your place, even after you take away his emergency key because he never uses it for emergencies. There is a ‘Gojo drawer’ in your storage closet, huge bathroom slippers and an extra toothbrush. His preferred brand of shampoo and conditioner are housing in your cabinet, spares that he keeps for when he crashes in your guest bedroom.

(Let’s be honest. It’s less of a guest bedroom and more so Gojo’s room at this point).

You commute to work together in the mornings, which you think is funny since Gojo can just teleport wherever he wants. He says it’s because he wants to spend more time with you.

Oh yeah, he still constantly says he is in love with you.

Years and years after his first declaration, Gojo has still not budged. At this point you are so used to it that it doesn’t bother you anymore. Like it’s second nature. Like Gojo is meant to love you. Like there was never any doubt about it. Your mutual friends have accepted it too by now. No one bats an eye when Gojo whines about missing you. Or when he waltzes into your on-campus office claiming “two hours is enough time for us to be apart”.

You don’t know when exactly it settles over you. How important Gojo is to you. How you can’t go a day without him. How you get pissy and irritable when he goes on missions overseas that take weeks at a time. The transition is so smooth that sometimes you think you were always meant to love Gojo, just like he was always meant to love you.

‘Senpai’ becomes ‘Gojo-san’. Which becomes Satoru’.

It never occurred to you that Gojo was still, technically, a friend. You were with him so often, bickering and snickering, cuddling and lounging around. He was a part of you, like you were a part of him.

Then you hear words that shock you to your very core.

“In my eyes, you two are already married.”

Never in a million years would you have expected Ijichi to say those words. Everyone else is one thing. But fucking Ijichi?

You stare at the back of his head when he says them, the silence in the car deafening. You know Ijichi well enough to be certain he isn’t saying these words falsely, even if he means them lightheartedly. If this is what Ijichi truly thinks, then….. Is it what things are actually like?

It takes only a few minutes of reflection for you to realise that he isn’t far off. Gojo is so deeply ingrained in every nook and cranny of your life that it is beyond irreversible now. There is no way to untangle your lives. He is part of you, just as you are part of him.

It’s almost as if the universe is nodding in confirmation when you open the door to your apartment and find Gojo sprawled on the couch, flipping through TV channels. He is wearing sweatpants and a black T-shirt that looks unfairly good on him, especially since he clearly isn’t trying at all.

He stands up and you notice on the coffee table before him that he has laid out a myriad of snacks, both savory and sweet to cater for your varying taste buds. You spot at least three of your preferred treats in them. Your heart beat slows down, settles. Like you are at peace again. You feel a warmth under your collar. One that you haven’t felt since you were a wee teenager just stepping onto the Jujutsu High campus. You eye the back of Gojo’s head.

“Hey.” He calls, barely glancing back at you, eyeing his treasured snack collection as if contemplating which one he should start with. “Some shitty American reality show is on. You wanna make fun of ‘em together?”

He turns to look at you when you don’t respond, raising an eyebrow. Brilliant blue eyes bore into you.

“You okay?”

You walk closer to him, still silent, until he is mere inches from you, craning your head up to look at him. The background noise from the TV gets tuned out.

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

Gojo blinks. “I’d kiss you back.”

Your breath hitches. The knot in your throat tightens. No hesitation. No shock. Not so much as a stir. It’s like you’re asking him what to make for dinner.

“Okay.” You whisper. And then you’re leaning up, pressing your lips to his.

His hand reaches up to cup the back of your neck. The other stabilizes you at the waist. His lips are soft and smooth, almost dainty, slowly picking up intensity as he presses closer to you. Your heart is racing a mile a minute, and as you press closer to him, you feel that his is just the same, the only indication that he is affected by you just as you are by him.

When your lips part, you don’t open your eyes. Your foreheads touch and you let yourself feel, truly feel, the effects of his touch on you.

“I love you.”

Gojo’s smile is soft. His touch is tender. Comforting. Familiar. “I know.”