⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆immo⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 !

「love is temporary, knowledge is immortal . 」

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 !

.˚𓏲♱ 「𝔧𝔲𝔧𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔲 𝔨𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔫」 🦇ೄྀ

⊱ satoru gojo -all i wanted 4.2k words .

˖  ݁𖥔.⋆ ཐི ₍ᐢ. ̞.ᐢ₎ ཋྀ ⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖

.˚𓏲♱ 「𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔶𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔞」 🦇ೄྀ

⊱ ticci toby

𝔦𝔫𝔣𝔬 𝔞𝔟𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔦 !

currently listening - send the pain below . chevelle life events - college soon … (˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵)

. ⊹˚˙smitten!gojo x alt!reader˙˚⊹

꒰ა synopsis ໒꒱

gojo was always that person. the only person who never stopped bothering you. the only person who didn’t care that you were different. he was the only person who tried to understand you … !

꒰ა content ໒꒱

one shot ⚚ slow burn ⚚ slight angst ⚚ yearning ⚚ gojo is a popular boy ⚚ reader is emo ⚚ some fluff ⚚ set in late 2000s ⚚ reader is fem presenting ⚚

꒰ა 4.2k words ໒꒱

You don’t really remember the day you met Gojo Satoru.

In fact, he’s the furthest thing in your mind at all times—though the fact he still occupies even a sliver of your mind bothers you. He’s so boisterous, and cocky, something you’ve assumed from the way he talks to other girls. You never comprehended why any of them were infatuated with the guy, it’s not as if he lights up the room whenever he walks in—that would be a dumb thing to think… right?

You’ve removed yourself from those cliques either way, not bothering with keeping up face and acting all friendly with each other. Actually, you know for a fact you’ve overheard from at least half of the population in your college that they all abhor each other in some way or form. Over time you became this oddity at this preppy college, your eternal silence invited gossip from those who didn’t even know you. Girls would sit around you during lectures, chatting about the hottest guy—which infuriatingly enough, they considered it to be Gojo—or just hating on a girl who slept with more than one guy in her life. The worst was probably when guys sat at your table, giving you awkwardly judgy glances or commenting on a girl’s body that they ‘banged’ last week. Though, out of all of these people, Gojo was the most confusing of them all.

Gojo remembers the day you two met as if it were his first ever memory.

Rarely, did he bother with others, mildly entertaining a girl or two before they become the whispers of last week's happenings. But, he was bothered immensely by you. He had only caught a glimpse of you the first time, spotting a head of dark and wild hair amidst the sea of blondes and brunettes, until you faded into obscurity. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t get to see your face, but he had caught a good look at your outfit—one he immediately recognized as something different from the layered polos and hot pink bling. Since then, he had been musing, maybe he could mess around a little with you. Those thoughts died when he officially met you, though.

The first time, also the time you totally blocked out of your memory, was during chemistry class. The two of you were chem partners, and you were irritated already. The chairs were far too close for comfort due to the small tables and not only that, but Satoru sat with his legs spread wide as if he owned the space. He was already seated, looking down at his notes as you squeezed into the chair next to him, internally sighing because you knew how this went. You’ve sat next to the popular guy and tried to drown out his friends every single time, because you’ve been there before. You’ve seen how loud they can get. But for the white haired boy, this was different—he hadn’t expected you of all people to be his partner. He hadn’t really cared much about you until he had seen your face. It was beyond his earthly desires, you weren’t the standard but you definitely weren’t unattractive. It was cliche, but god… a part of Gojo wanted to believe there was possibly some lucky chemistry between him and you just from looking at your odd style. ‘Opposites attract’ kind of thing—he thought to himself. 

He rested back into the chair that was way too small for his tall frame, giving you a smile far too cocky for your liking. His head cocked a little as he observed you unpack your materials from your pretty bag. He watched as your textbooks emerged from the dark bag, some of them decorated with stickers of bands he’s never heard of, some scribbled with sharpie to create stars and shapes. Your head was tilted down to peer into your bag, but your eyes looked up to glance at him just one out of curiosity.

He froze, captivated by your dark stare, encapsulated by a smoky black eyeshadow. Your gaze was intense, abrasive almost, and it clearly showed disinterest in him. His grin died down, and so did his hopes, but he decided not to be cowardly, especially not when he was so curious to know about you. The idiot leaned forward onto the table, his elbow resting on the cold surface, his cheek in his palm. His smile was less confident this time, unsure of whether you’d hate him over the next few words he was about to spout. Nonetheless, he took his first shot, hoping to break the ice.

“Hey… is your name Paramore? Because you’re All I Wanted.” 

The pickup line was so corny that you had to stop what you were doing. Your hands were stuck on your notebook—which was more of a sketchbook than anything else—and your brows were so high up that they almost disappeared in your bangs. Despite the bustling atmosphere in the classroom, your table was quieter than a cemetery. In any other person’s mind they probably would’ve been a flustered mess by now, but all you could think about was one thing. What does this dude know about Paramore? Your mind concluded that this guy had probably been scouring blogs on Blogger to find this stupid line—which he had, but he’d never admit that—and you rapidly moved on from this. Your face forced a smile that looks more like you’ve smelled shit rather than received a flirtatious compliment. Your gaze was averted from him, causing his stomach to drop a bit. That expression you made haunted his sleep ever since then, but he didn’t give up. 

Every day his friends would crowd the table, pulling up their chairs and, inconveniently for you, blocking your path to your designated seat. They all were talking about some new game that you could care less about, a small sigh escaping you as you approached. Despite muttering a few meek ‘excuse me’s’, they couldn’t hear you over their own noise. You debated just pushing through, perhaps waiting until the bell rang which usually made them scatter back to their assigned seats, but fate had other plans. Satoru’s line of vision caught your silhouette before you could act, a small sparkle gracing his light blue eyes at the sight, but you chalked it up to the harsh fluorescents of the room. He told his friend to move the first time, his voice playful and casual as he jerked his head towards you, but when his friends didn’t move fast enough Satoru shoved one out of the way. It wasn’t ever with malice, it was just the rough handling between two jocks that would end with his friends laughing and moving for you. 

Sometimes, you’d catch him staring at you, his eyes, full of curiosity, were hidden under his ivory lashes. Even when there were times that you sat with other people, your gaze would wander to the other side of the room, finding his eyes looking right back at you like it was a secret interaction between you that no one else noticed. Other times, he’d compliment how smart you were, even though the bastard got full A’s while he was playing Tetris on his flip phone the whole lecture instead of listening. You’d overhear him complaining about how dumb the whole class was, only to hesitate and admit that you were an exception in the group. But every single time, you were confused by him, by the thought that he might even like you.

You were convinced he was messing with you, playing some kind of cruel game of trying to get you to bite the bait just so he could mock you. That had to be it. It wouldn’t be too uncommon, judging by the amount of times boys would approach you to tell you that their friend ‘liked you.’ You never gave in, but you couldn’t lie to yourself that some part of you enjoyed the attention he gave you, even if it had been very subtle, it felt as if it was a secret that no one else was allowed to know. It felt nice having someone compliment your new band shirt, or point out whenever you did something new with your hair. It even got to the point of him asking you to paint his nails black, but you mumbled a response that made him retract, insisting it was a joke even though you knew deep down he was being sincere. It was like you were seen for the first time and you had no idea how to handle it. 

Still, you refused to bite the bait.

The cold of autumn brushed against your finger tips as you walked to your dorm, a breeze followed you there, ruffling your hair and causing a slight muffled in your wired earbuds as they tussled around. The music whispered into your ear—All I wanted—and your mind creeped towards the memory of your first encounter with Satoru. Little did you know that he was pathetically following you, holding his bag which wasn’t zipped closed, on one shoulder and his hoodie was messily thrown on. The moment you heard him through Hayley William’s lyrics, you tensed. He was asking you on a date. You hated the fact that he was here, the fact that this song was playing, the fact that you felt flustered. You walked a little faster, your converses scraping on the pavement as you tried to ignore him. His long legs conquered the distance in half the time it took you to cross it and he positioned himself in front of you to try and stop you in your tracks. “Look, it doesn’t have to be a date… I just wanna hang out with you—I know this cool boba place we could go to!”

This was the most nervous you’ve ever heard this man be, breathing hard between words as he caught his breath from chasing you. His eyes were jumping from place to place, doing anything to avoid your dark ones—fearing that they’d reject him like always. An earbud remained in your left ear. The other hung low, tossing around from the wind that blew his white hair wildly, making it more of a mess than it already had been. Your heart beat a bit faster, feeling a tinge of guilt for causing him this desperation. The idea of going on a ‘hang out’ with Satoru felt almost like giving in, but you so badly wanted to give in, just a little. After a few seconds of staring, Satoru already began to back off, his hands fixing the collar of his polo shirt. You let out a minute breath, allowing yourself to trust him this once. 

“Uhm… sure. Where is it?” Your voice came out a bit hushed, not really used to talking to anyone out of your small circle. Satoru stopped mid-step, his eyes shining brightly as if he had won the lottery. 

Quickly, he cleared his throat, going to your side to lead the way for you. “Just around the corner, and—don’t worry—I’ll pay.” He explained, his words stumbling over each other as he began to talk to you. You quietly listened to him, even going as far as pausing your music for him which was something you rarely did. The topics spilled from his mouth like a dam breaking. Never had you thought that this guy was so talkative, but it made sense why he had so many friends. As common as MySpace, skateboarding and games were, he mentioned little bits of information that made you raise your brow, wondering if he might have a slightly nerd-ish side to him. Either way, you made your way into the store. He ordered for the both of you—a regular boba for you and a strawberry boba with extra popping jellies in it for himself—before walking out of the store with you. 

The two of you walked around the street, eventually sitting down on the curb with him so close that you noticed, but didn't comment on it. You sat with the straw in your mouth, idly drinking as the guy next to you started talking again. Your eyes watched the outline of his side profile, the way his nose sloped forward, creating another sharp angle on his face along with his jaw. His bright eyes occasionally flicked towards you, as if worried that you weren’t listening. Slowly he fell quiet, his left foot bouncing a bit as he grew shy. The sky greyed out, tinting your surroundings dully but his face was warm, leaving you a bit stunned. He was blushing, the Satoru was nervous. 

“Sorry. You probably think I’m an idiot.” He laughed a bit, trying not to show how anxious he truly was. You shifted a bit in your spot, putting down your half empty cup on the pavement before facing him. His cup sat forgotten next to his leg, full to the brim as the thought of its existence totally left his mind—too busy focused on you. You reached over to him, casually fixing the hood of his hoodie for him, the fabric was all messed up due to the breeze. He stilled, watching you with a cautious eye.

“I like Digimon too.” You admitted, shrugging off your bag to fish out a card that was sealed in a protective plastic cover. The iridescent  card of Devimon shone like a beacon in your hand as you showed the man, who had his mouth open in shock. “I play purple-aligned decks.” That piece of information further elated him, he looked at you as if you had kissed him. He carefully took the card, admiring it before looking at you once again.

“Purple decks fit you so well… the use of your graveyard, the digimon in the purple alignment are all spooky—I mean I could totally see you as Devimon if you tried to dress like him, but you’d obviously be way prettier than him—ah sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He blurted out, handing you the card back as he smiled sheepishly, a bit embarrassed at how direct he was being. “I use a blue deck, my strongest is Imperialdramon: Paladin Mode.”

You blinked a few times in surprise. Of course he has the most broken digimon, you should’ve known that. Still, the irony of it made the corners of your mouth quirk up slightly. You scooted closer to peer at the deck he pulled out from his backpack, admiring how he meticulously organized them by rank and group. His cheeks were tinted with a slight blush as he showed you, occasionally letting you hold a card that you found to be pretty. Your chipped black nails trace over the edges of the cards, analyzing the beauty of each illustration.

He subtly leaned closer until your shoulders were pressed together, creating a comfortable warmth in the fall weather. Satoru’s eyes weren’t even focused onto the card, analyzing the swell of your cheek, the way your lashes swept across your skin as you turned the card over. It wasn’t until the sun began to sink into the trees that the two of you started walking to the dormitories. The two of you separated once it was time to retreat into your side of the dorms, the walk being unusually quiet without the usual Get Scared blasting in your ear. 

You got to your dorm a bit later, a ghost of a smile on your face which was a rare sight for your roommate. Utahime stood at the door before you could even open it, her heavily braceleted hands on her hips as she frowned. She knew something was up with the look on your face so she raised a brow in speculation. 

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling your flip for like an hour!” She questioned, waving her flip phone in front of you which clearly showed the texts she sent. Variations of “where r u @????” and  “R U OK???” flashed on the screen, showing her concern for you. The sight made you laugh a little, making Utahime huff and shake you by your shoulders—her scolding wasn’t new to you. The only thing that was new to you was the incessant amount of times she accused you of running off with some band boy. As much as that would’ve fulfilled your MCR fantasies, that wasn’t exactly the case. Your hands gently caught her wrists, stopping her actions.

“I was hanging out with someone.” Utahime stared at you for a good while before another onslaught of questions attacked you. Each one a bit crazier than the last until you cleared the air, revealing your little outing with THE Gojo Satoru—as Utahime liked to say. Her face twisted into a bitter expression, judging you fully when you said his name. “Really? God, I knew your taste in dudes was bad, but I didn’t know it was this bad. Not even a guy with black hair?” The question made you scoff a little, trying to deflect the fact that she was implying him to be your type.

“It wasn’t a date… We just hung out.” That was your excuse, but it didn’t deny the fact that your face was a bit warmer than usual. It didn’t deny the fact that after this day Satoru and you had gotten closer. A lot closer. He loved walking you to your dorm, tagging along to talk about the new cards that were released for the Digimon anniversary. The time he’d spend listening to Pierce the Veil for you, and hearing every bit of your explanations about the difference between you and Utahime’s styles and how emo and scene were different, but deeply connected to each other—a part of him wished he had something like that with you. You and him were as different as those little characters on that web browser he played with you—fireboy and watergirl or something like that. Either way, he tried his best to understand you, just like how you tried your best to understand him. 

That’s how you ended up at a beachhouse, awkwardly stalking behind Satoru as he weaved you through the crowd of college students. Some of them eyed you curiously, while others didn’t really bat an eye—already aware of your little bond with Gojo. Still, you felt a bit out of place, the bathing suit feeling too tight under your black shirt, his hand feeling too good wrapped around yours. Eventually, he got the two of you outside, his shoulders slumping a bit at the grey and dismal sight. The skies were dark, holding the upcoming rain with even a few droplets already falling onto the sand. The ocean was even worse, churning with a raging tide, rising up and down only to crash onto the shore. You were already stepping back to return inside before he tightened his hold on your hand, which you hadn’t even noticed was still intertwined with his. 

“Come on, why bother having a beach party if there’s no beach?” He joked, his voice soft but a bit sarcastic as if it wasn’t really the beach he cared about. The wind was harsh, but it wasn’t like you hated the rain, that was your favorite weather anyway. He started to lead you down the steps, a small smile on his face. “We can still have fun, right?” 

The rain was cold as it came down, a stark contrast to your warm face. You followed along, not caring about the fact that everyone else could see you from the windows, or that Satoru was staring at you the whole time. He laughed as you chased him around, kicking water at him after he had drenched your clothes with a playful splash. Despite the two of you being soaking wet from the waves and rain, your clothes still whipped back and forth with your hair, tousled by the storm’s wind. 

It didn’t matter though, not when Satoru was right behind you, trying to catch you after the two of you decided to play tag. The chilly wind was biting at your lungs, filling each short breath with a mix of excitement as you ran as fast as you could. The sand flew up, being kicked around as his feet dug into it, chasing you with every ounce of his being. The view of your back ignited a small desperation in him—he was tired of chasing, tired of yearning for you. His arms wrapped around your waist, eliciting a small squeal of surprise from you as the two of you collided. He spun you around, his laugh mixing with yours as you held onto him. The proximity was addicting, to feel his skin against yours, his forehead pressed to yours as if you were his last breath.

You held onto his damp shirt, swaying in a messy circle as you came down from being spun around. The silence was heavy, only the sand remembering your clumsy moves. His lips found yours before either of you could pull away, gentle and tentative. His hold on you was loose, giving you space to reject him if you wanted, but all you wanted was to kiss him back. The two of you stood there, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he held you by the waist. The kiss lasted a few seconds before both of you stepped away from each other, breath short from both the chase and the sudden kiss.

Satoru looked reborn, his pale skin flushed with excitement, his pupils swallowing his brilliant blue eyes as they dilated. His hands slowly traveled up to cup your cheek, wiping the rain that was falling down your skin. Little droplets clung to the ends of his hair, weighing it down to stick to his forehead. Your body ran into his as you embraced him, holding his tall frame in the storm. He chuckled a little, pulling you impossibly closer before whispering an admission that only you would hear.

“I love you.”

Those single words escaped past his lips, settling in the wild wind, surrounding you like the rain, clinging to your soul as you whisper back the very same words he had yearned to hear from you since he had seen you. Many kisses followed soon after, feeling his hands tug you through the sea of people, and leading you up the stairs into his friend’s guest room. He wrapped you up in a towel, hugging you from behind as he helped you shed your shirt, leaving you in your bathing suit which was still damp. The bed was soft, the lingering sensation of sand still stuck between the sheets as you watched him tug his shirt off and dry his hair off with the same towel you used. His back stretched and flexed as his hands ruffled the towel into his snowy locks. By the time he was done, he jumped into the bed with you, a large grin on his features which brightened his blue eyes. He flopped onto his side, staring deeply into your eyes, looking absolutely complete. He reached out to touch your hand, feeling his fingers intertwine with yours under the covers.

“You’re so pretty, even like this.” He murmured, burying his face into the pillow as he grew a bit shy. Usually it was so easy to talk to girls, but there was something about you that made him feel so small. 

“...You’re pretty too.” You cringed a bit at yourself, cursing at your awkward response. You quickly tried to come up with something else. “I mean, like… you look good too.” 

He laughed a little and sat up, hovering over your form. He wasn’t overbearing, more like a warm blanket hiding you away from the storm that raged outside. The way his white lashes swept across his cheek as his gaze softened made your heart beat just a tad faster—you finally understood why others fawned for him. He was beautiful, but not when he was in his uniform, clean and well-put. You liked this Satoru, the one that had his hair windblown, his cheeks rosy and his breath uneven. You liked the one that no one else got to see but you—you like your Satoru. “I get what you mean.” He whispered, leaning down to pepper your skin with light kisses. It wasn’t sexual, just loving, as if he had been dreaming of doing this. His lips graced the crook of your neck, tasting the subtle salt that clung to your skin. 

He finally rested his body on yours, breathing out a happy sigh against you. Your hands combed through his damp hair, trying to ease the knots out to distract yourself from how fast your heart was racing. His hands rubbed up and down your sides, melting into your chest. He stirred a bit after a while, a slight mischievous look in his eyes. “Hey…”

“Mhm?”

“I meant it when I said you’re all I wanted back in chem.” His little confession made your heart stop for a second before you tugged at his messy locks. Your laugh filled the room as he whined. You rolled your eyes, but there was a clear smile on your lips that made him giggle a little, enjoying making you laugh.

“That line was so bad, I can’t believe you made me remember that, Satoru.”

꒰ა credits ໒꒱

image - @ / love-immo

a|n - first post !!  honestly, i’m such a slow writer … and yes, i may have drawn a whole pic for this fic JAJA . omg also ignore the large blocks of text ... i tried spacing them out a little more but idk . lmk if there's any errors pls thank u love u guys !!

@ / love-immo || Do not copy, plagiarise, feed to AI, translate or modify my works !