𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 | gojo satoru x reader

28: "You Had Them."

Side note: I listen to a lot of Taylor Swift while writing this book, and I don't even mean to. But also it's only from her 'Red' album. Never from anything else. So do with that what you will.

Not proof-read. I try to get these out as soon as I can before I lose motivation again. Trying to get an ADHD assessment done, but it's hard when you've got a medical condition that 'could affect the way you think'. Fuck off with that horse radish.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    "You know those shirts poets wear in fantasy movies?"

    "Like those white ones with the little frills on the sleeves and the v neckline with the shoelace ties?"

    "Yeah, those."

    "What the fuck are those called again?"

    Ayato was slumped in front of his computer, head rested in his hand as his thin-framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, crooked. His hair was out, him having removed the hair tie a long time ago now. He was tiredly scrolling through Google on his computer, making small grumbly noises and occasional comments under his breath such as 'ew' 'gross' 'no' and 'what the fuck is that?'.

    You were lying still on the ground in the centre of the store, not entirely motivated to get up. "I don't know, but I'm not too sure that should be revenge-dress attire."

    "Showing up looking like Astarion isn't a good revenge dress?" Ayato said, his head unmoving as he just barely moved his eyes to look at you between the bottom of his monitor and his desk.

    "Showing up looking like Astarion would be a good revenge dress if I looked like Astarion."

"So we all agree that Astarion is that girl?" Thoma said from underneath a pile of clothes in the corner.

    "It's not a matter of agreeing, it's a matter of fact." You mumbled before slowly sitting up.

    "I think they're literally just called poet shirts, that's a bit lazy," Ayato mumbled to himself as he typed on the computer again.

    "Should I be doing a Marauders cosplay at this charity event—"

    "No because it's actually gonna look so good—"

There was a loud knock on the front door of the store. You and Ayato frowned at each other. The store was closed, who was trying to get in at 6pm on a Saturday?

Thoma's head popped out of the pile of clothes, his hair sticking out in every possible direction. "Dawg, what—"

Ayato stood up, holding a hand out to Thoma as he attempted to free himself of the clothes to answer the door. With the same elegance as a swan despite being slumped at the computer for hours, Ayato made his way to the front of the store while you and Thoma sat in silence, staring at each other in anticipation as you listened for any context clues. You heard the door unlock, and loudly, like he was subtly warning you, Ayato said, "Gojo, it's late."

Your eyes widened as you and Thoma stared at one another in panic. Thoma swiftly freed himself from the pile of clothes, making his way over to you as you stood up. He led you to the back lounge area, stopping momentarily to look around in a panic. Your heart pounded in your chest. Just as you had initially tried to tell Ayato earlier, you weren't ready to face Gojo yet.

The door to the store opened wider with a small creak, which urged Thoma to jump over the couch and hide behind it. Taking your arm, he almost ripped it out of its socket as he yanked you with him, sending you tumbling over the back of the couch for the second time that day and landing with a loud thud on top of Thoma, him letting out a grunt of pain. You felt like a pair of stooges.