Elysia

the most beautiful moment in life

[belchyra]

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔˖ ֹ Ely.ᐟ twenty-one. ♑︎. she/he/they. bisexual. genderfluid. multifandom. mainly jjk, hsr & gi ೀ

Byf ༝ masterlist ༝ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇.MEMORY_CORE

⤷ Newest work: summer skin〢itadori yuuji

© belchyra 2026. all rights reserved. pics from @/finnemarina

[silverspringsho]

YUJI'S FEMININE GIRLFRIEND

If Yuji was asked to describe his girlfriend? There was only one way ⸻ pink, glittery, vanilla scented, pretty.

But don't be fooled. Most men would want a way out. Yuji does not. In fact, if he could be anywhere in the world, he'd choose to be with you.

He is exactly where he wants to be.

"Yuji?" You're sprawled on his bed, watching as he games. It's some dumb fighting game he'd insisted on buying.

"Hm?" He doesn't glance up from the console.

"Do you know where my lipgloss is?"

He immediately abandons his game, clocking into his boyfriend duties. "Which one?"

"The clear gliterry one." You reply, watching as he searches the wrinkles in his duvet, under his pillows, the floor, his desk.

"Have you checked your bag?" He asks as he peers under the bed.

You glance towards your little pink handbag. "No." You frown. Reaching for the bag, you rummage around a bit. "Found it! Thank you, Yuji. You're the best."

He beams at the praise. "Of course, baby." He tosses himself down beside you, watching as you apply the lipgloss.

As the designated taste-tester, once you've coated your soft, juicy lips in shimmering gloss, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

You make a small whiney sound in the back of your throat. When he pulls back, your lips are pushed out into a pout.

He licks his lips. Vanilla flavoured. "10/10, baby." He says trying to go in for another taste.

"Stoppp," You giggle, pushing him back. The sound makes him smile.

He is absolutely, undeniably obsessed with you.

"Fine." He relents with a dramatic, mock sigh, rolling over theatrically.

"C'mere." You whine.

The second he rolls to face you, you're on top of him, your thighs on either side of his torso. His hands instinctively find your hips to hold you there. You take his face gently, holding his chin with one hand, as you lean closer, applying the shimmering gloss to his lips. Your breath mingles with his. Yuji stays perfectly still until you're done, then his tongue darts out to lick his glittery lips.

"Yuji!" You huff as he laps up the gloss off his lips. He grins up at you unapologetically.

[lvrs4nxna]

I alr commented but im gonna request to be more specific. It’s really similar, butt basically one where the backstory is Megumi and y/n are dating and they met on a mission bc there were no other sorcerers available. But no one knows they’re together and they all find out different times, and everyone thinks they’re both perfect for each other bc they’re both so reserved and mysterious.

five times Megumi Fushiguro’s friends and family found out he had a girlfriend, and the one time he told them willingly

tags: ooc (?), fluff/crack, fem!reader, reader is a kyoto student, nonchalant!reader (kind of), mentions of violence, kyoto goodwill event, cussing, reader’s parent was a jujutsu sorcerer, reader’s parents are deceased, implied special grade!reader, brief mention of suicide (Megumi..)

Megumi Fushiguro never shared anything about himself. His friends didn’t even know he had a sister, why would they know that he was hiding a girlfriend 300 miles across the country?

In Megumi’s defense, he didn’t feel the need to share this information. It was his life, so it was his business. His life was in fact, none of their business.

The first time anyone found out you two were dating was after you completed one of your joint missions together. It was one of many, of course, so your routine was simple. Practiced even. Meet up, complete the mission, then he’d wait until you were safe on your train back to kyoto, then he’d allow himself to make his way back to Tokyo.

Unfortunately for Megumi, a little somebody was waiting for him at the train station that very day. That little somebody just so happened to be his annoying ass parental guardian.

Despite his tough exterior, Megumi was actually a clingy and affectionate person. He loved like a dog, snappy with anyone else, soft around the edges just for you.

Your bag was set at your feet. He had his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, cheek pressed against your [h/c] head of hair. He was squeezing you so hard it was like he was afraid you’d disappear the moment he let go.

You slapped his arm lightly. “Megumi Fushiguro, I’m gonna miss my train if you don’t let me go this instant.”

He huffed. “Fine then. Miss your train.”

Selfish bastard. He was only doing this so he could spend more time with you. He’d rather die than go home before knowing you were safe.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. “I’m gonna miss you..”

“You’re gonna see me in a week. The goodwill event is back at your campus this year.”

“A week is too long..” Sometimes you wondered if you were dating a jujutsu sorcerer, or a clingy baby. You shot him a rare smile, and he felt his cheeks heat up almost instantly. He almost murmured ‘pretty’ out loud.

Your cute moment was cut off when a loud voice called out Megumi’s name, drawing attention from literally everyone. Megumi groaned at the familiar voice. He wanted to jump in front of a moving train right then and there.

“MEGUMIIIIIIII!!!”

You turn around to see a scarily tall white haired man waving at your boyfriend like a toddler. He appeared beside Megumi before you could blink.

Megumi raised an annoyed brow. “Gojo-sensei.. what are you doing here?”

“I was passing by, so of course i had to pick up my favourite student!” Gojo grinned before mumbling something to Megumi about ‘not telling Yuta he said that’. Gojo’s attention eventually shifted towards you. His gaze trailed down to your hand, fingers intertwined with Megumi’s.

His eyes flickered back and forth between you two.

He raised a finger. “Is this..?” Gojo knew you were a sorcerer. He kept track of all of Megumi’s missions, and his adoptive son certainly did not have a solo mission today.

There was a beat of awkward silence. Megumi watched as the gears in Gojo’s head slowly clicked into place. It was hard to miss, because the moment it did, he exploded and-

“MY MEGUMI HAS A GIRLFRIEND??” Gojo shrieked, making Megumi physically wince.

Gojo went on an entire ramble about how Megumi never told his dear old dad anything and how proud of his son he was. Megumi clicked his tongue way too loud when Gojo got to the part about giving him ‘the talk’.

Gojo looked to you standing beside a fuming, red-faced Megumi, blinking.

“You’re [l/n]’s kid, aren’t you?”

You didn’t know how he knew that. You knew you came from a family of famous sorcerer’s, but your parents died so early on in your life even you didn’t know what they looked like.

“No wonder Megumi calls you ‘the creepy adult’ who follow him and his two friends around whenever they hang out.”

“He calls me what now?”

The second time somebody found out you two were a thing was a week later at Tokyo jujutsu high.

All you wanted to do was take a goddamn nap, but nooo, all your classmates were goddamn brutes. Todo was a smart person, but sometimes you wondered if he traded his brain for his muscles.

Your eyes snapped open at the loud bang from across campus. You sat up and yawned, and the sound of buildings crashing down hit you instantly. What a drag. You didn’t need to walk far to find the source of the noise. You had to rub your eyes to fully process the fight going on.

“I was just being nice, and you’re acting all high-and-mighty. Since you said that..”

“Then I’ll do it.”

Megumi raised his fists. Goddamit Fushiguro. Always pulling drastic measures for situations that didn’t call for it.

Todo and Megumi froze. At first they thought it was just the chill that was sent down their spines when Megumi tried to summon Mahoraga, but they were wrong.

It was just you. The presence of your high-pressure cursed energy was enough to halt their steps.

“Are you guys done?” You strolled to where Megumi was on the ground. “Todo, save that energy for the battlefield, alright? We don’t want you snapping a hip.”

Todo was about to open his mouth to protest, before he was cut off by a scene straight out of one of those sappy romance dramas.

He watched you, the least touchy person he’s ever met (so untouchy that you flipped people over your shoulder the moment they got too close), crouch down beside Megumi to brush his blood stained hair out of his eyes.

“You look like shit, Fushiguro.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

At this point, Todo didn’t even recognize you. It was like you did a complete 180° just for this first year student. You wiped the blood of his face carefully, concerned look in your eyes.

“Does it hurt?” You bit the inside of your cheek as you ran your thumb across his forehead. Megumi just shook his head. It always seemed like his face would go all red when you got close.

“I hate it when you always try to solve your problems with that stupid suicide god..” Megumi studied your expression. He hated being a burden, but he hated making you upset even more.

“Sorry, [n/n].”

“[Name]! Why are you wiping blood off the person we’re going to be fighting in a few days?”

You didn’t take your eyes off Megumi. “I’m sorry I don’t want my boyfriend to look uncivilized at a joint school event.”

Todo grabbed the back of your uniform and you let out a tiny passive ‘ow’ before getting your ears yelled off. “BOYFRIEND? DOES MAI KNOW? WHY DON’T I KNOW?”

The questions just kept coming. He started dragging you away to look for your other classmates. You gave Megumi one last shrug and a tiny wave, leaving him there on the floor. Megumi watched you disappear into the distance as you were dragged further across campus.

Megumi sat there, hand over his mouth as he fought back a smile, but he ended up grinning like an idiot anyways. Good thing no one was watching him.

The third time, Megumi just dropped it like a bomb. Maki and Toge were searching for Megumi so they could talk strategy for the goodwill event. He was usually awake around this time, so it was weird that he was nowhere to be seen. They made their way to his room, with Maki starting to bang on his door with her fists.

Megumi may just be the lightest sleeper on the planet, his nightmares certainly didn’t help with that factor either. One time Yuji was trying to sneak back into his own dorm past curfew, and he let out the tiniest sneeze that sounded more like a squeak than anything. He woke Megumi up, and his best friend threatened to- let me check my notes here.. “smoke his shit”.

“Fushiguro! Open this door right now!” Maki hollered. Toge backed up a few paces. He did not want to be caught between an angry Maki and a grumpy Megumi.

Maki didn’t wait any longer. She just slid open his door so hard it hit the wall. “Fushiguro, what the hell did I say? Get your ass out here or-”

“I’m up, I’m up, okay?” Megumi threw his arms over his eyes, sleepy, morning voice startling Toge and Maki.

“You’re never late, what’s gotten into y-?” Maki trailed off as a second figure sat up in his bed. You ran a hand over your face before turning to the two standing at the door.

“Hey guys.”

“Mustard leaf..?” Toge stood there, absolutely flabbergasted. I mean, who wouldn’t be shocked if you went into your own friend’s room and saw a whole other person sit up in their bed.

“Before you ask, yes we’re dating.” Megumi just flipped onto his stomach, away from the intruders standing at his bedroom door.

“What- huh?- how? How did you two even meet? You literally live halfway across the country from each other!” This is why

“Uh.. remember when I went on that mission in Yokohama?”

“.. yes?”

“The higher ups didn’t trust me to exorcise a special grade curse on my own without coming back half dead, so they sent backup for me. [Name] over here was the only one available.”

“If I knew it was Fushiguro I wouldn’t have gone.”

“Hey.”

The fourth time came so abruptly your friends almost didn’t catch it. You were so closed off at times Mai would call you a turtle, even learning your date of birth was a miracle to them.

You, Miwa and Mai were passing by the Tokyo campus’s training field. You spotted Megumi and paused to stare for a second. It was just a quick glance to see how he was doing, nothing more.

But Miwa and Mai caught you red handed.

“Who are you staring at, [n/n]?” Miwa peered over your shoulder. Before you could mutter the word ‘nobody’, Miwa was already in the midst of following your line of sight towards the field.

“Oh my god, are you staring at Fushiguro?” Mai cackled, and you felt your face grow hot. Somehow, you were able to compose yourself in a matter of seconds. You went back to your stoic facade, face going cold once more.

You rolled your eyes. “I am not staring at Fushiguro. All the Tokyo students are there. I’m judging them.”

“You judge literally everybody, and there is no way in hell that’s your judging people face!” Miwa giggled. “Awww.. don’t tell us that our little [n/n] has a crush on the bad boy!”

“It fits, right? Just imagine it, the two of you hating everybody together, but then deep down, you guys are all soft and care for each other with your whole hearts..” Mai nudged you with her elbow playfully.

“Are guys seriously writing fanfiction about me and my boyfriend right now?” You huffed.

“No but I totally ship it. Everyone says opposites attract, but I honestly disagree. Megumi wouldn’t be able to deal with someone much louder than him, so him falling in love with someone who’s just as moody and broody him is perfect, no?” Miwa beamed.

“Miwa’s right, [n/n]. With all due respect, you’re basically just the genderbent version of-”

Record scratch.

She backed up. “[Name].”

“Yes?”

“Did you just say boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

Mai linked her arm through yours. “What? You’re dating fushiguro? Since when?”

You sucked in a breath before answering. You and Megumi actually kept your relationship on the down low quite well. It didn’t take much effort though, because all your friends thought you two were so anti-social, that you’d never be able to get into a relationship anyways.

“… we’ve been dating for a year.”

“WHAT??”

Miwa and Mai started interrogating you aggressively. You weren’t listening though. Every word went through one ear and right out the other. You looked right past them back onto the training field.

Maybe you were staring. Just a little.

The fifth time someone found out you were dating was completely on accident. Maki was on a FaceTime call with Yuta, and she ran off somewhere. She decided to shove her phone into the arms of the closest person without a second thought. Megumi yelled something about how she shouldn’t trust people with her unlocked phone, but she was already too far away to hear.

“Hey Fushiguro!” Yuta Okkotsu’s voice rang through the phone speaker. “How have you been doing?”

“I’m doing.. im doing just fine.” Megumi hated small talk. If this was his own phone, he would’ve cut the call right then and there without a second thought. But of course, everyone at Tokyo jujutsu high knew not to ruin Maki’s weekly FaceTime calls with Okkotsu. All Megumi could do was stand there awkwardly like a toddler who pissed his pants after a nightmare.

Megumi’s ears perked up when he heard someone’s footsteps. He was fully ready to drop Maki’s phone and fight the mystery person. “Who’s there?”

“Calm your tits, Megumi. It’s just me.”

You rounded the corner verrry smugly, enticing a scoff out of the dark haired boy. Despite the fact he was acting irritated, you caught him fighting back a smile.

Megumi sort of forgot that he was still holding up the phone, and Yuta was still on the other end. Yuta was supposed to be training, but watching this entire interaction go down was way more entertaining.

You walked into frame, staring up at Megumi. You two were only ever acted like this in private, well- as much privacy you two could get as jujutsu sorcerers.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you love me..”

You socked his shoulder playfully. (your version of ‘socking him playfully’ almost send him tumbling to the ground) “And what if I do love you, Fushiguro? What are you gonna do about it?”

He didn’t get to answer. You patted his cheek, pecking him temple like he was made of glass. “I’ll see you on the battlefield, okay?”

“I’ll beat your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try. You love me too much.”

Megumi’s eyes never left you as you walked off. He let out a dazed, love-struck sigh. An awkward cough violently dragged him out of his thoughts. He looked down, and he finally realized he was holding the phone up the entire time.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“How long.. have you been watching?” Megumi squeaked, body going fully rigid. He was gripping the phone so hard his knuckles were beginning to turn a ghostly white.

Yuta had a hand over his mouth, chuckling. “So.. [l/n], huh?”

“Shut up! Why the hell are you still here?”

The one time he did tell anyone? It was only cause he was pressured into doing so. Talk about peer pressure, am I right? Megumi didn’t know why he was friends with Nobara and Yuji anymore. All they brought to the table was pissing him the hell off. (he’s a liar. he loves his friends.)

Nobara and Yuji had been watching him closely ever since the spirit bash race. The three of them were together, and they just so happened to run into you.

The only thing you had to do to make Megumi back off was tilt your head and flash your pretty smile. Nobara and Yuji watched as their best friend’s eye twitched, then blurted nervously that they shouldn’t risk fighting you because you were ‘dangerous’. He bolted away from that part of the forest faster than the two of them could comprehend.

After the event, they burst into his dorm for answers. Their Megumi Fushiguro, incapacitated by a pretty girl breathing in his vicinity.

Nobara glared at him. “Alright, Fushiguro! Spill it! What’s been going on with you? You’ve been a lot more smiley lately, and saying your name in the same word as ‘smile’ is weird enough.”

“Yeah! You’ve been all warm and soft for hours.” Yuji started looking around the room. He didn’t get many chances to even take a peek at Megumi’s room. The last time he did, Megumi slammed the door closed while Yuji was still standing in the door frame.

It took them a full minute to finally realize Megumi wasn’t in his uniform. He was already halfway out the door, putting on his shoes when they noticed him.

“Hey! Where are you going dressing all fancy? We just spent the entire day fighting. Don’t tell me you’re going on another snack run for gojo-sensei.” Nobara placed her hands on her hips as Yuji attempted to mess up Megumi’s tamed hair.

“I’m going on a date with my girlfriend.” Megumi tied the final loop of his shoelaces. “If you guys follow me, I will kill you.”

What.

Yuji felt himself malfunction on the spot. “Huh.”

“My girlfriend.” He adjusted the cuff of his white button up. “[Name]. I think you two talked to her once.”

His two friends grabbed his arms simultaneously, dragging him back into the room. Yuji was still processing the information, and Nobara was already yelling (like always) “[Name]? You’re dating the [Name]? Since when? How? Who confessed?”

“I was the one who confessed to her.” He admitted quietly. It was uncharacteristic of him. Megumi Fushiguro was the one who people had a crush on, not the other way around. He was Satoru Gojo’s son after all.

No one ever thought you two could actually pull anybody. Everyone around you believed that Megumi would probably end up living alone with 20 different pets to keep him company. Nobody would’ve thought the reserved Megumi Fushiguro would have the guts to confess to you out of all people. Who knew that you two would be the first ones to get into a relationship?

Still, they were happy for you. Despite how annoying they could all be, they were still your friends. They were way too nosy and way too interested in your relationship, but you knew it was only cause they cared.

Dealing with a bunch of annoying teenagers (and gojo) was probably the least of your problems as jujutsu sorcerers, anyways.

a/n: WHY IS THIS SO LONG (that’s what she said)

©lvrs4nxna — all rights reserved. Do not republish, translate, steal, or feed my work to AI.

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[stqrgumi]

⋆˚꩜｡ kinji hakari loves to film you

contents: sex tape, dirty talk, spit, squirting, pussy slapping, rough sex, praise, use of "good girl"

he didn't need an elaborate camera set up, he would most often use his phone to record. sometimes the videos would be low quality, but he didn't mind. hearing his own filthy words combined with your moans and the wet sounds from your pussy were more than enough.

hakari's fingers were buried inside your messy cunt, the camera capturing how you clenched around him each time his fingers curled up into your sweet spot.

"god damn, you're fuckin' soaked, all this for me?" he snarled, pulling his fingers out to slap your pussy. two of his fingers spread you apart, showing off your glistening folds to the camera, "look how she's dripping..." he whispered, voice full of awe.

he quickly fucked his fingers back into you, resuming his brutal pace. his thumb pressed against your clit and he panned the camera to your face, capturing your fucked out expression.

it didn't take long for fluid to gush out of your pussy, spraying around his fingers and soaking his forearm. you hadn't gotten the chance to recover from your orgasm before he slapped your pussy again causing another wave of fluid to flow out of you.

hakari wore a nasty smirk, slapping you once again, "fuuckkk, my dirty girl." he reveled in the loud squelching sounds that were elicited from your cunt with each touch. the sheets underneath you were thoroughly soaked, but he wasn't done with you yet.

"tell the camera how you feel, sweetheart." he murmured, voice full of a faux sweetness. his phone hovered over your face as you struggled to choke your words out.

"kin– kin baby, so— so good." your entire body shook and your lips hung open as you panted, coming down from the series of intense orgasms.

a growl erupted from deep in his chest as he buried his head in your neck: nipping, licking, and sucking his way down your body.

he took his index and middle fingers, using them to spread your pussy wide open once again. this time he spit directly onto your clit, making sure the camera could see it slowly dripping through your exposed cunt.

hakari lined his cock up with your dripping entrance, spitting down your pussy one more time before pushing himself inside you with a loud groan.

his dick was able to slide into you with ease, "shit. listen to how fuckin' wet you are. you're loving this, aren't you?" he was taunting you now, knowing how far gone you were.

you nodded as incoherent cries fell from your mouth. your brain had gone completely blank. the pleasure he was giving you had completely flooded and overridden your senses.

he grabbed your face, forcing you to make eye contact with his camera.

"stay with me, baby. use your words, talk to me, okay?" his eyes were dark and full of intensity as he stared at you.

you nodded again, trying to articulate words through the haze of pleasure. "i– i love it. love you. love... it. so good." you babbled, hardly knowing what you were saying at this point. all you cared about right now was the orgasm that was quickly building in your core.

a wicked smirk tugged at his lips, "good girl, lettin' the camera know how good i'm fucking you right now. so good, all for me." he praised. the words went right to your cunt, squeezing around him.

"so damn tight, always sucking me right back in, look at her..." he mumbled to himself, zooming in on where his body was connected with yours.

the thick stretch of his cock was mind numbing and the way the tip kissed your sweet spot with each trust was becoming too much. your fingernails dug into his back, leaving deep red marks in his skin. he loved the pain, loud moans leaving him with each additional mark.

he knew your orgasm was close, he could tell with how your eyes kept rolling back and you cried out for him while clinging onto him for dear life.

"you close?" he asked, not letting his pace falter.

your body answered for you, your cunt spasming around him and more fluid gushing onto his pelvis and abdomen. bliss washed over you and stars danced around your vision.

his hips stuttered as his release flooded your pussy. he slowed his movements until you stopped shaking and your eyes slowly refocused.

he beamed, "there's my girl."

as he pulled out he zoomed in on the mixture of his cum and your arousal dripping out of you, the sight would've made him hard again if he wasn't already exhausted.

hakari may be rough with you, but he always made sure to take care of you afterwards. he helped clean you up, change into comfortable clothes and brought soft blankets over you as he pulled you into his warm chest. his big hands gently rubbed your back, hips, and thighs, easing away any soreness he may have caused.

🏷️ : : @izuruverse @buginthegalaxy @belchyra @vanillaapples @v4mp1r3b4tzz @insanjity @megumisonlylove @sourdough-brrad @norsaval @megumisrighttoe @yujismissingfingers @xiaoderrrr @serpenttine @fushigurlfriend @sugerfilled @eilishsgf @josuni @evfers @welovenoor @mrskamikazekaito @hearts2vivi @regalrxse @6x-x9 @maiswigs @swxxtchxrrixs @daflex @kyotodiaries @luvrmegumi && join taglist

💌 : : i was originally gonna write this as a drabble but got carried away... all the ideas for this came to me last night in my dms with my dear best friend jay... i also may write a part 2 of him getting off to this video! who knows!

[stqrgumi]

⋆˚꩜｡ does hajime kashimo know how to fuck?

contents: switch!kashimo (brat tamer top & bratty bottom), slight degradation, dirty talk, mild dacryphilia, improper use of cursed energy, porn some plot, overstimulation, kind of primal play (??), pussy slapping, kashimo has kinda animalistic characteristics, public sex, culling game player!reader

your lips tugged into a smirk before asking kashimo a question he had been almost dreading, "so... have you ever even been with a woman?"

he could've had any woman he wanted, he was a god after all. back then women just didn't interest him. even today he didn't ever find himself particularly attracted to anyone, that was until he met you.

what was it about you?

it honestly frustrated him to no end, he could never quite figure out what it was about you that drove him crazy. by the time you had entered into the culling game he had already garnered 200 points, using 100 of them to add a rule to access player information.

kashimo had set up base for himself in the tokyo bay area and would pick fights with anyone who tried to get past him. the endless search for a thrilling fight was becoming boring, he yearned for a challenge. someone who could finally push back at him and stand a bit of a chance.

his bright cyan hair caught your attention, even from a distance. you watched him, keeping mental notes of how he fought and trying to figure out the best time to attack.

unfortunately for you, kashimo had noticed you too. he saw the way you clung to the shadows when he roamed the area. it was almost like a game to him, he slowly began to creep closer and closer to where you had been hiding. he never quite reached your hiding spot but he could sense the way your heart started pounding when he was near.

"kogane, tell me about the player hiding above the bridge who's been watching me for weeks."

shit. he'd seen you. he's known this whole time.

your breath caught in your throat as you listened to kogane rattle off your details.

player name: y/n l/n colony: tokyo colony number 2 number of points: 184 number of rules added: 0

184 points? who is this person?

kashimo's brain was scrambling for an explanation. he was under the impression that you hadn't been a player for long, but how did you have almost as many points as him? you'd been spending your time stalking him. surely he would've seen you kill enough players to gain 184 points.

since your cover had been blown you decided it was finally time to approach him. you'd spent weeks analyzing the way he fought, but you couldn't push away the nervous feeling that had settled in your stomach. there was no denying he was strong, plus he had 200 points.

if you were being completely honest with yourself... hajime kashimo was incredibly attractive. his bright blue hair, deadly charming grin, and the way he acted so fiercely against his opponents. the thought of him on top of you briefly flickered through your mind, but you quickly shoved that aside.

he was close now, you two stood under the same bridge. however, kashimo moved much faster than you. before you could process what happened, his hand was wrapped around your throat and cold concrete was pressing into your back. he had you fully pinned to the wall underneath the bridge.

"who the hell are you? i've seen you watching me. when the hell did you get 184 points? why are you watching me?" kashimo's voice was a low growl emanating from deep within his chest. his pupils suddenly dilated as your scent filled his nose, it was hypnotic, he felt dizzy.

who are you?

his senses were flooded and his anger slowly diminished. he felt drawn to you, he was having a difficult time holding himself back from burying his head in the crook if your neck and inhaling deeply. god, it was so good.

"you intrigue me. 200 points is impressive, hajime kashimo. i was hoping to fight you, but you've so rudely pinned me against this wall. i thought you wanted a challenge?" your eyes glistened with a mixture of something dangerous and carnal desire.

the rough skin of his fingers felt good against your soft skin as he tightened his grip around your throat, "i've been waiting to fight sukuna, not whoever you are..." he briefly trailed off, "however, i must admit that your ability interests me. you seem rather powerful. maybe you would put up a good fight."

kashimo wore a wicked grin on his face as electricity surged around him. he released you from his grip and held up his fists, surrounded by his electric cursed energy.

as you matched each of his swings, remaining perfectly undamaged and unbothered, he noticed a dull aching settling in between his legs. blood redirected itself to flow into his rapidly hardening dick.

your eyes flicked down to his crotch, taking in the developing tent in his pants, and back up to his eyes, to his lips, and back to his eyes. it was easier for you to conceal, but you were feeling the exact same way.

"so... have you ever even been with a woman?" you asked, hoping your teasing would further rile him up.

with a slight smirk he stared at your lips before forcing his gaze to meet your eyes. your guard was temporarily down and he took the opportunity to strike, pinning you back against the wall. he hungrily captured your lips in a kiss and brought his knee up between your legs, hoping you would grind down on him.

his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to him and eliciting needy whines from you. your clit throbbed and you pressed your hips down onto his thigh in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. he greedily drank down every whine, whimper, and moan he drew out of you. his open mouth messily worked over yours and his hands trailed down your body.

he scratched and squeezed any exposed skin he could find, until he finally found your breasts. lucky for him, you hadn't put a bra on under your loose fitting top. he was easily able to start kneading your tits, occasionally pinching and twisting your nipples.

kashimo's lips found your neck, sucking dark marks into your pulse point and inhaling your scent. he couldn't think anymore, his brain completely full of you. it was infuriating and exciting all at once.

shameless need flooded through your body while you rolled your hips against his still clothed leg. warmth started to build up in your abdomen. were you really going to cum from dry humping like a horny teenager?

his tongue swiped across your skin, savoring the vaguely salty taste before he bit down. a load groan escaped him as he trailed bites down your neck and shoulder.

he grabbed your shirt, "let's get this off. now." he demanded, ripping your shirt off.

temptation immediately overtook him as he buried his head between your tits. he couldn't control himself, his mind seemingly took over by his hormones. tongue and teeth explored your chest before he finally found your nipple. his lips wrapped around it, sucking it in and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. he kneaded your other breast with his free hand.

kashimo's other hand was occupied with slipping past your waistband into your panties. he cupped your pussy with his large palm, feeling how much you were dripping for him.

"god. you infuriate me." he growled.

you took your hand and placed two of your fingers under his chin, guiding him up to meet your eyes. "do i? you seem like you're enjoying this, hajime." your voice dripped his a false sweetness when you said his name which only served to piss him off even more.

two of his fingers pushed past your entrance with minimal struggle due to your arousal. he watched as your face contorted with shock and pleasure, "don't push me." he set a brutal pace with his fingers, leaving you squirming for him.

you batted your eyelashes, pulling an expression of faux innocence, "what if i wanted to push you? you're not nearly strong enough to reach my limits."

lightning flashed in his eyes, "i'll show you what i can do. don't cry when you can't take it anymore." kashimo was fired up in a way he'd never felt before. he needed to break you. he needed to see you fall apart and come undone for him.

a third finger joined the other two stretching your cunt. the wet sounds from your arousal echoed through the open area with each pump of his fingers.

"don't- don't worry. you won't be able to make me cry." you choked your words out between moans, already feeling humiliated. your orgasm was building up faster than you'd like. he scissored his fingers to further stretch out your tight walls, pressing them against your sweet spot. he couldn't get enough of the way you clenched around him every time he hit that spot, imagining how it would feel around his painfully hard dick.

kashimo pulled his fingers out of you, loving how the new empty sensation made you whine. "i'm getting sick of your attitude." he slapped your pussy over your clothes before hastily ripping them off. the sting of his slap made your entire body jolt and you held back a moan, you couldn't let him see how this affected you.

he made quick work of removing his robes, relishing in the way you admired his nude body. his abs were lightly defined, the six muscles tensing when your fingers brushed against his stomach. his arms were nicely built, all the major muscles were defined but not overly so.

noticeable beads of pre-cum had gathered on the flushed tip of his cock. several veins ran up the length of his shaft, which stood at a solid 6.5 inches. he was pale, but the tip was a blooming red color from his pent up frustration and arousal.

with one swift movement he bent you over so your hands were anchored against the wall. cold air hit your pussy as kashimo spread your ass cheeks apart. he slapped your exposed pussy again, "just remember that you asked for this."

he stroked himself a few times and lined himself up with your pussy. his hand met your ass with a sharp slap sound as he pushed himself into you. his cock felt so thick as he gave everything to you, inch by inch. the stretch felt deliciously good.

when he bottomed out you felt so full, his hips flush with yours.

"haji-" you started to cry out before he clamped his hand over your mouth. "be quiet and take it."

his pace was fast, unforgiving. he wasn't just pounding into you, but he made sure to periodically adjust the angle of his hips to increase the sensation for you.

kashimo brought his fingers down to your clit, rubbing small circles with his thumb. wanton cries bubbled up your throat, threatening to escape.

a short zap met your clit, momentarily shocking you. the bastard had used his electric cursed energy on you.

you could hear the smirk in his voice as he taunted you, "you liked that? you're filthy." before you could respond he let another spark of his cursed energy flow through his finger against your clit. the knot of pleasure in your core was tightening, ready to snap at any moment. you writhed around in his hold, helplessly babbling his name.

"what happened to your attitude? poor thing... all you needed was some dick to shut you up." his words pissed you off, but you couldn't think clearly, let alone speak cohesively. the head of his cock was kissing your sweet spot with each thrust, bringing you closer and closer to your anticipated release.

"s-so close, hajime."

he brought his head close to your neck again, your scent stronger as your climax approached. his thrusts started to become sloppy, mindlessly fucking you in reach of his own orgasm.

the knot in your core finally snapped, orgasmic bliss washing over you. your walls spasmed around him which pushed him over his own edge. holding yourself up became a challenge as your entire body shook from the pleasure and blossoming soreness from the stretch of his dick.

you could feel warmth filling you as he unloaded sticky ropes of his release inside you. his cock remained in place and he watched as cum dripped out around him.

his hands felt secure around your waist as he flipped you around to face him and pulled you down onto a neatly folded pile of blankets that he used as a makeshift bed. he pulled you onto his lap, helping position your cunt in line with his still hard cock.

"ride it. show me how desperate you are for me." he snarled out, greedily pulling your body down.

you rolled your hips, bouncing up and down on him. he gently guided you with one hand on your waist. the other played with your nipples, occasionally sending jolts of electricity through you.

a burning sensation was filling your thighs and your pace slowed.

stinging shot through your neck as kashimo's teeth connected with your skin and he grumbled, "is that all you can do? i thought you'd do better than this."

you pushed him down and anchored your hands on either side of his head, your tits hanging down into his face. the new support allowed you to speed back up, using him to feel good. your lips hung open with your head tilted back, soft whines and cries coming from you. this position made him feel so much deeper.

you were reduced to a cock drunk mess as you fucked yourself on him. cumming was the only thing on your mind.

"pathetic, honestly. i thought you'd be more of a thrill, but you fall apart so easily." he knew his words would provoke you, that's why he said it. he was hoping to push you past your limits.

kashimo grabbed you and swiftly flipped you around so your back rested against the blankets. his fingers held your hips with a bruising strength. the head of his cock was teasingly resting against your cunt, but he wasn't moving. he was busy admiring how he had marked you up. hickeys and bite marks littered your neck, chest, and thighs.

he gave no warning as he shoved himself back inside you. his tongue connected with your neck and several growls flowed from his mouth. your cunt clenched around him, driving him insane. he was dizzy from the feeling of your pussy and the sweet aroma of your skin.

his hips snapped against yours, the sensation becoming too much. tears welled up in your eyes and started to spill down your cheeks.

swallowing your pride you cried, "haa– hajime. it's too much." tears were now freely pouring down your face; however, his rhythm did not falter.

"it's not too much, shhhh. you can take it, remember you said you wouldn't cry. you said i wasn't strong enough. you kept pushing me." he sounded sickeningly sweet as he spoke. his thumb gently swiped across your cheek, wiping the tears away. "poor girl... just take it for me, okay?"

you nodded helplessly, trying to choke back the tears but they wouldn't stop. your senses were all in overdrive, completely taken over by kashimo.

he was relentless, fully chasing after the thrill of finally being able to put you in your place and diminish your attitude. this was giving him what he had been looking for since reincarnating. this may not be a battle, but your defiance was enough to push back at him and allow him the thrill of the chase. his desires for someone to challenge him had been satiated at last.

kashimo brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing circles onto the sensitive nerves. lightning danced around his body, he was unable to control it in this state.

the added stimulation to your clit was enough to bring you to your climax again. your cunt clenched around his cock, twitching inside of you. you were squeezing him so tight it felt like you were milking him dry, his fingers dug into your hips as he released once more.

he rolled to the side as he pulled out, laying back and panting. he was absolutely spent, even intense fights had never left him feeling like this. completely satisfied.

"kogane, transfer 100 points to y/n."

"you got it! 100 points transferred to the player!" kogane's cheerful voice rang out.

your eyebrows shot up and you gave him a look of confusion.

"i've lost. my points are yours now. do what you will with them." he admitted, a slight hint of defeat in his voice.

🏷️ : : @izuruverse @buginthegalaxy @vanillaapples @belchyra @v4mp1r3b4tzz @insanjity @megumisonlylove @sourdough-brrad @norsaval @megumisrighttoe @yujismissingfingers @xiaoderrrr @serpenttine @fushigurlfriend @welovenoor @eilishsgf @sugerfilled @josuni @evfers @mrskamikazekaito @hearts2vivi @regalrxse @6x-x9 @swxxtchxrrixs @maiswigs @daflex @kyotodiaries @luvrmegumi && join taglist

💌 : : this is my first time writing for kashimo but honestly i had a lot of fun with this

[hooneeyydroops]

Mon ange 🪽

Paring: french-speaking!yūta x reader

Warnings: A lil suggestive? Oh and Yūta is a tease. Lots of kissing.

A/n: I know nothing about french besides three years of classes that I took in middle school😭 pls bare with me. Also thanks to @belchyra for suggesting yūta calling reader “mon ange” <3

Finally, Yūta came back from his mission overseas.

The two of you were laying in your shared bed, both half asleep as you cuddled: one of your favourite activities. Your work as sorcerers really did take up all of your time.

“Tu m’as manqué énormément, mon ange” Yūta whispered in your hair as his strong, lean arms enveloped you from behind, hands lazily resting under your sleep shirt, on your stomach.

“H-huh?! Yūta…since when do you know…uhm french?” you asked him, half asleep and completely astonished by what you had heard. Yūta let out a breathy chuckle as he turned you around to face him. You could barely make out the outline of his face, yet you could see his eyes shining.

“It means ‘I missed you so much, my angel’” he clarified, planting a loving kiss on your forehead before looking down at you, a smile plastered on his face. “I managed to pick up a little french during my last mission” he explained awkwardly.

You blushed, burying your face in his warm chest, which only made Yūta laugh more, the vibration of it rumbling against your face.

“You like it, don’t you?” he said, taking your face in his hands and gently tilting it up to make you look at him “You like it when I call you mon ange?” he repeated, a smirk growing on his face, to which you only replied by turning your head away.

“Yūtaaa…! Stop teasing-“

Your whine was cut off by a soft gasp as you felt soft, warm lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Why? It looks like you like it…” he whispered, his lips hovering just under your ear before nibbling at the skin there. “Je t'aime tellement, mon ange” he murmured, almost like a prayer, before enveloping your lips into a slow, passionate kiss.

Your arms instantly flew around his neck as you pressed yourself closer to him; you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

You whined when you felt his teeth gently bite down on your lower lip, giving him access to your mouth. His hands were now resting on the plush skin of your backside, his tongue grazing yours in slow, passionate movements, making your body shiver.

After a while you both had to pull away, a single, thin string of saliva connecting your lips as you rested your foreheads against each other’s.

Yūta looked so pretty: his eyes were half lidded, pupils dilated, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of red. It was such a pretty sight.

You let out a breathy laugh before hugging him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re back” you whispered near the skin of his neck.

“Moi aussi” he replied before planting a kiss on the top of your head.

dividers credits: @cursed-carmine

[lvrs4nxna]

surviving the purge with megumi.. goes very wrong.

tags: crack fic, fem!reader, cussing, mentions of murder, blood & violence (duh), non-curse au, college au, purge au, all characters are 18+, everyone hates n*oya, established relationship, crybaby!reader (but she’s also kinda batshit insane), childhood best friend!megumi

You weren’t a violent person.

The purge was like a national holiday for you. Not cause of all the blood and slaughter, you weren’t into all that (because you weren’t a freak??) You actually made use of the ‘no laws’ situation by doing reasonable things, like stealing overpriced groceries.

But this year was a little different. You met this guy that was in Yuta’s business class, and boy, was he a handful.

You only ever talked to him once, and that was only cause he was trying to flirt with you at a party. You tuned out most of what he was saying that night, most of it being a bunch of misogynistic bull. You didn’t exactly speak dickhead.

Your one-sided conversation ended when your very sweet boyfriend, Megumi Fushiguro, punched him straight in the face, breaking his nose. (Thanks Megumi)

Every time he opened his mouth and spoke in that agitating, grating voice, it just sent you deeper into your irritated spiral. Sometimes your friends would catch your eye twitching whenever he walked by.

When your best friend, Maki, suggested you make use of the upcoming purge to get rid of him for good, everyone laughed.

Until they turned to look at you, only to see that you were actually considering it. They couldn’t imagine you, the most sensitive person they knew, actually going through with it.

They didn’t think you’d actually do it.

A day before the purge, Megumi dug up an old video from middle school to prove that you would probably go through with killing his cousin.

It sure was a miracle that fourteen-year- old Megumi just so happened to film a fourteen-year-old you shoving someone’s head down the toilet. When you walked by to see the clip on your boyfriend’s phone, you just defended yourself by saying he was talking shit about Megumi.

You were the type of person to cry over a paper cut, but you had the heart to drown someone in toilet water? Now they were scared.

Yuji immediately started teasing his best friend, asking if Megumi liked it when you were ‘scary-hot’. Yuji returned to his dorm with a black eye that night.

The day of the purge, Megumi offered to walk you to his cousins dorm through all the crime. Megumi’s glare scared off anybody who thought you’d be an easy target because of your bubbly nature.

Unfortunately for you, someone had beat you to it. What made it even worse? It was one of your best friends.

Yuji Itadori slid out of naoya’s dorm, bat in hand. His face lit up the moment he saw you two. Despite having blood splattered all over his own clothes, he looked like an absolute puppy.

“Hey guys!” He waved, jogging up to you two. He was talking to you two like he just walked out of Home Depot, very causal.

“Hi Yuji! What are you doing here?” Yuji usually didn’t commit crimes like this during the purge, and neither did you. Last year, you two just forgave all your student loans and broke into raising canes together. Good times.

“Oh! Uh- I killed Naoya.”

Megumi froze on the spot. Oh dear. This was not going to end well. You would either freak out on Yuji, or the uh.. other option. Here come the waterworks.

“You.. killed Naoya?”

“Mhm.”

You pouted. “I was gonna kill naoya.”

Yuji shrugged. “Well- I also wanted to-”

As if the universe was looking down at you, the rest of your friend group just so happened to be there as well. They weren’t planning on telling you, but Nobara staged this just so they could see Naoya being taken out.

Yuta raised a brow. “What’s going on here guys? Is he gone yet? Maki says she’ll get a higher allowance if Naoya dies.”

“It’s true.”

You turned your head towards them, frowning. “Yuji killed Naoya..”

“Yuji!” Collective groans and gasps came from your entire group. Maki even sent a hard smack to the back of Yuji’s head.

“[Name] literally called dibs.”

Yuji kicked a stray rock from under his shoe. “Yeah, but I also wanted to kill naoya, and I got here first! Doesn’t everyone wanna kill this asshole anyways?”

“Yeah, but I…” Megumi watched as you looked down to your feet. He knew you only ever did that when you were trying to hide your tears.

“No, [Name], don’t cry, It’s okay! You can kill anybody you want tonight! You won’t go to jail, even if you kill all of us.” Nobara patted your arm in an attempt to console you.

“I know.. but I wanted it to be naoya..” You whined, actual, real hot tears streaming down your face. Megumi wasn’t good with words, so he just stood by your side, wiping your tears from your face for you.

Yuta just shook his head in disappointment. “Look at what you did, Yuji.”

A baffled Yuji just watched on with wide eyes. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you wanted to kill him so bad- hey, look.”

He grabbed your hand and you looked up at him with glassy eyes. “I’m sorry for taking your kill, okay? Listen, Mahito’s dorm is right across campus. So why don’t we go together, and finish the job, alright?”

You sniffled. “Okay…”

Megumi placed a hand on your head, before pecking your forehead gently. “I’ll be right behind you. We can get ice cream after with Itadori’s money.”

“Hey! We don’t even need to pay for anything!”

“Shut up.”

Megumi watched you two walk off together, before averting his attention back to your group of friends. “So.. what’s up with you guys?”

“Maki killed her whole family.”

“Fuck.”

a/n: I giggled while making this one (based off of this)

©lvrs4nxna — all rights reserved. Do not republish, translate, steal, or feed my work to AI.

permanent tag list: @hearts2vivi @sugerfilled @lookacat @valeriestulips @shhhhhhxoxo125 @xombied @i-liketoast @deadmorgue @chosoissohotugh @tringushi @balladofjaynedoe @vivimsical @mysizzlingsteak @chuuyan4kahara @megumiimeow @kittyguumi @megssleepygirl @beninn @hituwithazubat @meowieees @notlikeothernerds @veronicalosr @eilishgf @kentosvntr @belchyra @megurei @thatonepupkai @catboygumi @megumisrighttoe @nonchalantfiend @leviackermanswaifu @bri22222 @satorugojo-is-hot @meowwwsss @kagstobioisthelightofmylife @renrenrenren17 @jennyistrendy @tyrantfe @wxyunni @ch4ulvr @kaemaybae @wiishies @lipstainedgemini @sillystarv @megumiguro @pawwwginaaa @ch4ulvr @mochiakun

[belchyra]

hello!

this is my first time seeing your blog, and I just read your story about reader with an ed featuring megs (my no1 comfort character oat) i just wanted to say thank you so much for your beautiful writing and the ability to open up. You described things so perfectly I felt understood, and i even cried while reading. i hope youre doing much better now, remember you are loved and cared for!

all the best

​Anon!! 🥺 thank you so much for this. i've been dealing with some shit lately and seeing this pop up in my inbox was exactly what i needed today. i'm so happy the story made you feel seen and understood. writing for Megs is a huge comfort to me too! thank you for your incredibly kind words, it means more than i can even say 🫶

[belchyra]

Are you alive?

Hi anon 😭 I guess so

[stqrgumi]

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ chapter 1: megumi fushiguro has always been your best friend... but is that all it is?

contents/cw: mentions of reader being in a bad relationship, lots of background info, yelling, aggression, and manipulation

series masterlist // ~1.9k wc

megumi had always been your best friend, as long as you could remember at least. maybe even your only friend.

when he was young, megumi's parents had completely abandoned him. his dad, toji fushiguro, left town and his biological mother had died. toji remarried briefly after the loss of his first wife. megumi's sister, tsumiki fushiguro, was the result of the remarriage.

satoru gojo had taken megumi in, becoming his legal guardian. however, was more of a mentor rather than a father, tsumiki had primarily raised megumi.

you had met megumi in elementary school. he was quiet, withdrawn, and wore a constant cold expression. he often occupied a seat in the back corner of the classroom, avoiding other children. you noticed that each day at recess he would sit alone on a park bench, silently observing everyone else.

you'd made it your personal mission to become his friend and make him open up to you. it was a near impossible task. more often than not talking to him felt like talking to a brick wall.

with a big grin you took a seat next to him, "hey!," you introduced yourself, "what's your name?" you kicked your feet and stared at him while waiting for a response.

a minute of awkward silence passed and you thought he may not have heard you.

"hello?" your little hand waved in his face, determined to get his attention. he turned his head to look at you, an expression of annoyance on his face.

he sighed loudly before answering, "fushiguro. megumi fushiguro." he kept his sentences short and his tone disinterested, but you refused to take the hint and continued to sit with him every day.

one memory that stood out to you was of a rainy day, sitting silently next to megumi on the bench. his messy black hair stuck to his forehead and when he looked at you, you noticed how his eyes reflected the storm clouds. he looked pretty, can you even descrive boys that way? pretty, you settled. his voice suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts, "you know you don't have to sit with me right? i don't need your pity or whatever you're trying to do. it's weird." to anyone else this would mean defeat, but not you. your faux joy didn't falter as he expected, "i know i don't! i like you though. you're stuck with me, megumi." he scowled, "i've told you before, it's fushiguro. not megumi."

it took months, but his walls finally began to crack. he was embarrassed to admit it, but he looked forward to your cheery conversation during recess. he even started to sit with you at lunch, making a crappy excuse about how he felt bad that you didn't sit with anyone else. the truth was: he just wanted to talk to you.

he wasn't nearly as subtle as he thought he was being. his eyes always seemed to find you in any room, he'd blush and look down when you noticed him. when you spoke his lips would twitch slightly, a small smile tugging at them.

fast forward 13 long years, you and megumi had grown up together, becoming impossibly close. despite beginning jujutsu training in high school, going into university felt daunting. megumi's mentor, gojo, had pulled some strings to enroll you both in tokyo jujutsu tech. knowing that megumi would be with you eased your nerves a bit, but nausea still crept up your throat when you thought about it.

megumi's stormy eyes met yours in an intense stare, "hey, it's going to be fine. if anything happens you know you're welcome in my room. anytime." his words were comforting, you were infinitely grateful that he was here too.

it only took a week before you found yourself at his door in the middle of the night, bawling your eyes out. he could hear your cries muffled by the door and immediately ran to open it.

physical affection was never something he cared for, but he opened his arms, allowing you to collapse into him. your tears soaked through the shoulder of your shirt but he didn't mind. he kept his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug. it felt like nothing could hurt you when he held you like this.

megumi gently ran his hand up and down the expanse of your back and listened as your breathing gradually slowed. something painfully tugged at his heart strings seeing you like this. brief thoughts about how he'd never hurt you flashed through his mind, but he tried his best to push those away.

the salty tears finally started to dry and he pulled away from the hug. with a soft smile he said, "do you want to tell me what's wrong now?" the deep sound of his voice echoed through your head as you remembered the events that brought you here. you felt your throat tighten again. something in your expression must've changed because megumi shot you a concerned look, "take your time, it's okay..." he whispered, his voice unsteady. god, he hated seeing you like this.

you inhaled deeply before unloading on him, " meg– megumi... he's just– he's so awful. i was too scared to tell you but he keeps making me do things i don't want to do. i'm so tired. i'm not even supposed to be here, he's going to get angry again. it's scary when he's mad... but i needed you..." you trailed off as your words became harder to choke out around your sobs. his eyes softened as you continued, "i don't know what to do. please help. i'm so sorry."

cold sweat dripped down your forehead and you could feel your pounding heart in your head. your fingers fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt, unable to stay still. anxiety clawed its way through every nerve in your body, leaving you feeling caged.

megumi had seen you through your fair share of bad relationships, but none of them had been like this. your ex boyfriends had all irritated him, this time all he felt was seething rage. how could someone treat you like this? he tried to keep his face neutral, allowing you to continue ranting, but with each word he became angrier. if he lacked self control he would've stormed out and killed the guy himself. despite the urges, he knew he had to be here for you. he was your anchor through this storm.

a vulnerability you'd never felt before coursed through your shaking body. you looked into his eyes, watching them darken, the grey nearly indiscernible from his pupils. he grabbed your hand, the feeling of his rough skin brushing against yours grounding you.

a calmness began to rise in your chest while you listened to him, "you need to leave him. i know it's scary, but it has to happen," he paused for a moment, clearly lost in thought. "listen, you can stay with me, i'll give you my spare key. you'll be safe here, i promise. i'll make sure of it." becoming your protector gave megumi a new purpose, one that felt fulfilling to him. he'd known you nearly his entire life, you were the one person he could occasionally be vulnerable with. fear flooded his heart and mind. until now he never realized how afraid he was of losing you.

the world felt like it was moving quickly around you while you stayed still, your senses filling with overwhelming dread. your fingers tightened around his as your lips trembled again. tears welled in your eyes no matter how hard you tried to push them away. your vision blurred, megumi's face becoming distorted.

he brought his thumb to your cheek, gently wiping away your tears. "it's okay, i'm here." his voice cracked as he whispered, his agitation threatening to bleed into his words.

a sharp ringing sound filled the room, piercing through the calming silence that had built in the air. you swallowed thickly, flipping your phone around to see who was calling. fuck, it's him.

megumi nodded, prompting you to pick up the call. your hands shook but you managed to accept the call and set it to speaker.

"where the hell are you? why didn't you come home? you know i get worried." anger was evident in his voice despite his attempt to feign caring. your eyes flicked to megumi, watching his face twitch as he held himself back from grabbing your phone and cursing him out.

megumi rubbed your back, trying to silently support you. "i– i'm sorry. i went to see a friend after our conversation earlier. i should've told you." a loud sound akin to a growl echoed through the phone, "oh so now your friend thinks i'm a shitty boyfriend right? is that what you told her?" he was firm and condescending as he yelled at you.

a sigh escaped your lips, "i told her what happened. if my friend thinks your a shitty boyfriend, maybe you are. i'm sick of how you talk to me." your eyes burned with tears, your voice cracking as you spoke.

"fuck. i'm so sorry baby. you know i didn't mean it. come over and let me fix everything, i mean it this time. i love you, please babe." his voice was a low drawl, almost syrupy sweet. you'd fallen for that exact sweet tone dozens of times before, but with megumi here you knew you'd be able to resist the overpowering urge to forgive him.

you shook your head, "no. not this time. don't call me again, we're done. i mean it, this is over." with that, you hung up the call and promptly blocked his number and social media profiles.

you let out a breath of relief knowing that it was temporarily over. he wouldn't go away easily, but for now you could try to calm down. your breathing was still uneven as you laid your head on megumi's lap, looking up at him.

the corner of megumi's mouth pulled into a smile as he looked at you, "good job, proud of you." the warmth of his body brought you comfort as it slowly seeped into your bones. he brushed his fingers through your hair and the tiredness you'd been fighting for months set in, your eyelids becoming heavy.

was it normal to fall asleep on top of your best friend like this? right now, you couldn't bring yourself to care. it felt natural to be with him like this, his presence was constant and comfortable. a strange ache throbbed in megumi's chest. it was uncomfortable and the root cause was unknown to him. before you could fall asleep he pulled you fully onto the bed and laid next to you. his body was stiff and he made sure to minimize contact with you, afraid of making you uncomfortable.

sleep didn't come easy to him. his mind was full of racing thoughts, full of you. he shook his head, trying to clear his brain and fall asleep. the sun was starting to peek through the blinds when megumi finally fell asleep.

🏷️: : @izuruverse @buginthegalaxy @belchyra @vanillaapples @v4mp1r3b4tzz @insanjity @megumisonlylove @megumisrighttoe @yujismissingfingers @xiaoderrrr @serpenttine @fushigurlfriend @welovenoor @eilishsgf @evfers @sugerfilled @mrskamikazekaito @evanescingsghost @hearts2vivi @regalrxse @maiswigs @6x-x9 @swxxtchxrrixs @kyotodiaries @megumios @xcdchu @megumiluvr && join taglist

💌 : : finally got around to posting the first chapter of my series.... i promise this does get more lighthearted as it goes on, but it starts off a bit heavy. i hope you enjoy it so far though!!

[lvrs4nxna]

09. KISS ME AND I MIGHT..

previous chapter.. | next chapter..

ᯓᡣ𐭩 megumi fushiguro. how could you even being to explain megumi fushiguro? collected in public, and a total fucking idiot in private. oh, and he hated the title ‘campus bad boy’

warnings/tags: ooc (?), fem!reader, yuji’s twin sister!reader, cussing, yeaner!megumi, college!au, modern!au, aged up! characters, uhh angstish (?), mostly written part, drunk!megumi, mentions of alcohol use, mentions of intoxication, yuta is a freak, yoo drunk confession, kinda depressing ending, Itadori family lore, not proofread

Yuji slammed the door to Maki and Nobara’s dorm room open with a loud bang, so hard it rattled against the hinges. Before Maki or Nobara could even process the pink haired boy’s presence, he was already shoving his phone in Nobara’s face.

“What are you-” She snatched the device from his hands before she ended up with her eyeliner pencil up her eye.

“Hoooly shit.”

“What?” Maki peered over her shoulder, inspecting your three Instagram stories. They were all uploaded fairly recently, so they all.. that had to have happened today. “I thought they broke up.”

Yuji started pacing back and forth. “That’s what doesn’t make sense! [Name] literally announced it to the entire world on several platforms. It’s like she wanted more people to know.”

Nobara turned back to her mirror. “Maybe they’re doing that thing where she says they’re not dating anymore because they’re engaged.”

“No, but they got the ring today, and she tweeted that they broke up yesterday.” Maki supplied. As much as she hated to admit it, she still cared about you. She’d always have your back, even when her words towards you had been cruel, she only wanted the best for you. “I don’t think Yuta would tell her she’s going to get proposed to, much less accompany her to get the ring.”

“Unless she’s not the one he’s proposing to.”

Nobara paused. “Yuji, what the hell are you talking about now?”

“No, no- listen.” He threw himself onto Maki’s bed, making her eyes roll. “Would it not explain both of their strange behaviors?”

“When we first confronted [Name] about it did she not have a total outburst? In my twenty-two years of living-”

“Don’t start.”

“-[Name] has NEVER yelled at me. The only times she ever does is if I’m being really stupid or I don’t do my chores.”

Nobara snorted. “So all times?”

“Shut up.” Yuji huffed. “My point is, she’d never start a fight over something stupid like our weird relationship problems. Remember back in high school when you and toge fake dated to make maki and yuta jealous?”

“Oh my god.” Maki winced at the memory. Remembering nobara and Toge’s forced pda made her cringe internally.

“What does our awkward cliche highschool romcom days have to do with any of this?”

“When you two were spending a lot of time together to make it seem more ‘realistic’, Yuta started getting reallly upset for some odd reason that they never resolved?”

“.. yes?” Neither of the girls knew where his point was going.

“It’s not like she got mad at the two of you for taking it too far, right? She just sat through all of it with us, and we ended up talking it out.”

Yuji lowered his voice, mumbling to herself. “Even though Yuta and toge somehow didn’t end up together after that..”

Maki raised a brow. “Are you saying.. her bitchiness is all an act?”

“For all I know? Yes.” Yuji nodded. He started gesturing wildly with his hands. “And Yuta! Ever since this all happened, he hasn’t said anything in any of our group chats. Weird for a journalist, someone who usually knows everything..?”

The two girls blinked.

“How are you so smart but so stupid at the same time?”

He didn’t respond, cause after he said all that out loud? He started feeling extra bad. Present Yuji never would’ve had the guts to type out the words ‘selfish’ if he had put all of this together sooner.

There was a beat of silence before Nobara finally spoke up.

She sniffed. “I called my best friend a homewrecker.” Although she had her head turned away from him, Yuji could tell she was gearing up.

“Hey..” Maki said, sitting down beside her. “We were all angry. Toge’s our friend too. We.. we all said stupid shit.”

Yuji got up and sat on her other side. “All we need to do now is apologize, and find out what the hell those two are doing with that ring.”

Yuji had been to going to parties since he was nine (thanks Sukuna), but he would never get used to the strobing lights or the heavy smell of alcohol. He’d only ever go to stuff like this if his friends were, to make sure they’d have a ride while intoxicated, of course.

Yuji was dragging Nobara (who was somehow already tipsy) and Maki through the crowd by the back of their shirts, eyes darting around, desperately trying to find anything that looked like the back of your head.

He wasn’t exactly watching where he was going, so it didn’t surprise him when he rammed into someone, making them gasp when the drink they were holding spilled all over them.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-” Yuji trailed off, eyes widening to the size of saucers when he realizes who he just bumped into.

It was you.

Great. Not only did he find the person who he was in a massive argument with, he also may or may not have just added fuel to the fire by making them spill a suspicious red liquid all over themselves.

“Hi Yuji.” You crushed your red plastic cup in your hand with a sharp crackle, the loud sound ending up drowned out by the deafening music.

“.. Hi, [Name].” He let go of Maki to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

Despite all the crash outs you had over text, you were actually one of the most understanding people they all knew. That’s what made it easy for you to resolve all of their fights for them.

You getting mad at them was scary enough, but apologizing to you? Now that was a whole other story.

Nobara coughed, stumbling slightly. “We’re.. we’re sorry for the way we reacted.”

Maki nodded. “Although we didn’t like what you did, we should’ve tried to understand you first. And what we said was uncalled for.”

You just blinked, staring blankly at them.

That was Yuji’s breaking point. He literally dropped to his knees, wailing as he clawed at your shirt, fat tears streaming down his cheeks. He was sniffling so much you could barely understand him. Good thing he had the loudest voice known to man-

“[NAME], I’M SO SO SORRY! YOU’RE NOT SELFISH, YOU’RE ACTUALLY THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF THAT! YOU GAVE UP YOUR ENTIRE CHILDHOOD FOR ME, AND I WAS THE SELFISH ONE CHOOSING TO IGNORE THAT! I’M SORRY I MADE YOU THINK I DIDN’T CARE ABOUT YOU, AND AND-”

You cut him off with a shush. “I think there are more important things all of you have to focus on.”

You gestured behind them with your crushed cup, leading them to whip around so fast it could’ve given someone whiplash. It’s safe to say that their jaws dropped.

Because standing right behind them, around twentyish feet away, toge was crying, Yuta on the ground in front of him. You would’ve thought they had gotten into a brawl (because Yuta had a large, red hand print on his face) if it wasn’t for the fact that Yuta had a box with a ring in it in his hand.

Yuji, still on his knees, looked up to face you again, waiting for you to comment on the situation. You just let out a heavy sigh, taking a long sip from a new cup that you had somehow retrieved without them noticing.

“Finally have it figured out, idiots?”

Yuji wiped his snot with the back of his hand. Gross. “So you two were never actually…”

You scoffed. “No! Of course not! Look at him! There is not a straight bone in that man’s body. I think he’d rather die than kiss a woman.”

Nobara couldn’t process this information quick enough. “And all the arguments you made, getting mad at us…”

“Fuck, now that’s Homotron 3000’s fault.” You clicked your teeth. You tossed your plastic cup across the room, hitting Yuta’s forehead. You didn’t care you ruined their sentimental moment.

Yuta rolled his eyes. You ‘ruined’ his heartwarming proposal. In all honesty, if your friends never ended up fighting all of this out, you would’ve ruined his entire life anyways. You were never going to help him with anything ever again, that’s for sure..

Yuta strolled over with Toge behind him, hand in hand. Toge slowly let his fingers slip from Yuta’s grasp, marching straight up to your face.

You braced yourself for impact with a sigh. “Go on. You can slap me, Toge. I deserve it for putting you through all that.”

Much to your surprise, he didn’t slap you. Instead, he grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you into a hug. He was hugging you so tight you couldn’t really breathe, but toge never really hugged you, so you didn’t want to ruin it.

“You.. you’re an idiot, you know that?” Toge whispered into your shoulder. “I thought i lost my best friend..”

“Me? Actually liking Yuta and stealing your crush? In your dreams, Toge.” You shook your head. “I wouldn’t trade our friendship for the world.”

A collective awww went off in everyone’s brains. Affection? From [Name] Itadori? Now that was the true miracle of the night. You were the type of person to gag whenever sappy moments came on TV during your movie nights.

“You still haven’t answered our question about your bitchiness, by the way.” Nobara pointed out from behind you.

You squinted your eyes at Yuta, still trapped in Toge’s embrace. Yuta flinched when you slowly turned your head to face him. “Yeah, okkotsu. Why did you ask me to say all those things?”

Yuta chuckled awkwardly. He really didn’t want to admit that he only ever asked you to fake date him was because he wanted to piss Toge off. Why, you may ask? Because Yuta was a freak that liked Toge’s angry face, and he’d provoke him any chance he’d get.

You smacked him on the back of his head, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Only Toge was supposed to get pissed, okay? We didn’t think that everyone would get mad as well.. we just played along with all the arguments and stuff..”

“You mean I played along. You almost cost me my reputation, brat. I better see some form of compensation.”

Well, they kinda had just the thing in mind.

You definitely didn’t expect this one from your friends.

And you definitely didn’t expect to be driving a drunk Megumi fushiguro back to his dorm after the party. They basically shoved him onto you by the end of the night, leaving you to take him back to his dorm for the night. Honestly, you didn’t trust your friends to get him back to his dorm safely anyways.

Their form of compensation seemed to be forcing you to look after the boy you had just gotten into a massive argument with a few days prior.

Megumi was a hiccuping mess. How many shots did this guy even have? He rarely drank, so seeing him in this state was a rare sight for you. He was stumbling over his feet as you dragged him back all the way to his dorm room.

He flopped onto his bed, face down into his pillow. You weren’t planning to stay long, maybe until he sobered up a bit. Yuji would be back any time soon anyways. Your idiot group of friends thought it would be a great idea to go to a Waffle House in the middle of the night, leaving you with your drunk crush best friend, alone in his dark dorm.

You huffed, placing a water bottle at his night stand.

You hated this. You hated being trapped in the quiet like this. You had to keep yourself constantly occupied during the day, because the moment you stop? You’re stuck with your thoughts again.

You couldn’t help but think back to what Yuji said that night. Sure, he apologized, but the words would always stick. He called you selfish. You were doubting yourself.

You couldn’t see it on your own, but to the rest of the world, you were the exact opposite of selfish. Truth was, your brothers were complete brats growing up. Still, you gave up all you had for them. You gave them whatever they wanted from you.

And you were still… selfish.

Suddenly, a soft hiccup from Megumi erupted from his chest, making you jolt.

“Hey.. you look a lot like the girl I know..”

You snorted. The Megumi Fushiguro, the campus bad boy, acting like a wine drunk mom on a Tuesday was very amusing to you. “Really now.”

“Yeahhh..” hic. You fought back an eye roll for the nth time that night. Whyyy did your friends leave him with you out of all people?

“Anywayssughh.. you look a lot like… Itadori. Nottheuglyfrogthoufhhh..” His words tumbled from his mouth in a rush of barely distinguishable syllables. “His sisterrr.. the reeeally pretty one..”

You felt your heart hammer against your chest.

“Oh.”

He nodded lazily, words slurring over. “I fuckeddd up soooo bad..”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Every bone in your body was telling you to tell him to shut the fuck up because he would 100% regret this in the morning, but you didn’t. You wanted to hear what he had to say.

He sniffled. Don’t tell me he’s drunk crying. The last thing you need is him sobbing and waking up with an even bigger headache.

“I called her selfishhj.. I’m such-” Hic. “I’m such a dick.”

You leaned back in the stool you were sitting on, right beside his bed. “You are a dick.”

“See! Even you agree..” He whined. “I should’ve just shutthefuckupppp..”

You picked up the water bottle, unscrewing the bottle cap for him. “That’s enough rambling from you, fushiguro. Drink.”

But he just kept going. “It’s so.. not fair that okkotsu got to her firstttsd, you know?.. I’m happy for her, but- I’m kinda nottt?”

“What are you talking about now?” You were about to knock himself out yourself. You prayed that he’d stop talking. Both of you were going to get hurt.

“I.. I love her.. and I- I fucked up so bad.” He groaned. “Now she’s neverrugh gonna forgive meee. It’s all my fault..”

The moment the word ‘love’ slipped past his lips, you wanted to die right then and there. You were trying to forget the principle of ‘drunk words are sober thoughts’. He couldn’t possibly have a crush on..

Your first year of college, you told Nobara that you’d never fall in love with an emotionally constipated boy. You knew men like that would only end up hurting you in the end. Those guys were just too full of themselves, the ‘too cool for love’ types.

That’s what you said around three or four years ago. And now, you were sitting next to the boy with zero communication skills. The same one you loved for eight years.

You spent eight years of your life pining after him. Was he really about to confess to you right now? You wanted to bolt out of there more than anything, but you didn’t have the heart to leave him alone.

You thought back to the eighth grade. He was a complete ass back then. Little did you know, Megumi never really learnt what affection was when he was a kid. It’s not like his parents were around that much. For someone who had a crush on you, he treated you in the nicest way he could, and he was still an asshole.

You told yourself that if he didn’t start fixing himself, you’d leave. You’d give up.

You never did. Every time he’d call at five in the morning, you told yourself that he’s lucky that you picked up in the first place. You told yourself one day, you’d be busy, and wouldn’t show up for him.

But every time without fail, you’d show up at his doorstep, or his dorm, or wherever he was that night. You cared too much.

Your mouth moved before you could think. “How do you know she won’t forgive you, fushiguro?”

“I know her too well.. she’ll just hic keep pushingme awayy.. I only want to help herrr. Why doesn’t she want my help?? I don’t.. I don’t get herrr.”

You stared up at the ceiling. “Maybe she doesn’t know how to ask for help. She’s been raising her brothers her entire life. She didn’t have anyone to turn to when she needed help. She just had to learn to adapt, didn’t she?”

Hearing yourself say that was.. something. You spent your whole life keeping everything to yourself. You carried the weight of the entire world just so that your siblings wouldn’t have to suffer. You never thought you’d be confessing all that to a half-conscious boy at two in the morning.

“That’s why I looove her.. she’s so amazing- and I’m just a.. a piece of shit..”

You placed a hand on his head, threading your fingers through his dark hair. “Don’t say that about yourself, fushiguro.”

“She’s.. she’s never going to love me againnnnn..”

That’s where he was wrong. Megumi didn’t recognize you while drunk, but your feelings would always stay the same. The only thing holding you back from allowing yourself to love him fully? Yourself.

Your thoughts were getting too loud again. And you knew there would only be one thing that could set you free.

Maybe you really were selfish.

Megumi was already drifting off to sleep, but you just stared at his relaxed face with a fondness you never really had for anyone else with glassy eyes.

“I.. I love you too.”

a/n: I wonder what’s going to happen next chapter lol

This is so buns I hate it 💔 I’m still sick so this was kinda rushed my bad guys 😊😊

divider by @doll-fairy

©lvrs4nxna - all rights reserved. Do not republish, translate, steal, or feed my work to Al.

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[kewpye]

too sweet (for me) — o. yuta

summary: yuta is sweet. tooth-aching. but you've never had much of a sweet tooth. content: 17.7k words. fem!reader, some angst and fluff, religious imagery, 2 yrs post-shinjuku (my goats are alive), some jealousy, reader has a technique, megumi+reader are childhood bsfs, yumeno is reader's last name! timeskips, no use of y/n

"I love you."

Yuta loves you.

He loves the way you smile, the way your laugh sings in his ear, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheek, the way you talk. He loves the way your fingers brush against him when passing something, he loves the way you tilt your head when you're thinking about something.

He loves you as though you're woven into the very cycle of life, as though you're the atoms that make up the air in his lungs, as though you're the very cataclysmic explosion that gave birth to the universe.

And it's the most exhilarating thing he has ever felt.

(It's dying. It's living.

It's heaven. It's hell.)

"And you don't have to feel the same way," he smiles, eyes downcast. "I just wanted to let you know."

He can feel your eyes on him, shocked no doubt. To be fair, he didn't mean to spring this on you.

All you did was ask if he wanted to accompany you to the nearest convenience store and somehow the two of you ended up trapped in the awning of the store where there was a sudden downpour. You had laughed and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him headfirst into the rain ("Have some fun, Okkotsu!"), and you just looked so divine, laughing as the rain soaked your uniform and hair.

Now, here he was, pouring the oceans that are his feelings for you, waiting anxiously for your reply. It's been a while since he has laid out his chest bare and he feels the claws of anxiety sink into his skin. (He feels like Mr. Darcy—that was his name, yes?—in the pouring rain. Except he is no Mr. Darcy and you are a deity descended from the heavens.)

The only sounds are your heavy breathing and the pitter-patter of the rain on the pavement. With every passing silent moment, he wants to summon Rika and command her to kill him on the spot. His white uniform sticks to his body, the rain clinging to the strands of his dark hair.

(He looks like a martyr awaiting your judgment—head bowed and hands trembling at his side.)

"I—" you start, and his already tense shoulders tense up even more.

Please don't look at me with pity. Please don't say you're sorry. Please say we can still be friends. Please. Please—

"I like you too."

It seems as if he has been crucified and resurrected. His head snaps up, eyes wide, wet lashes framing the stunned disbelief on his face and you're standing there with your wet clothes and hair plastered on your forehead, a halo, a crown. (Is this what Mary felt when she saw Archangel Gabriel?). The rain has faded into the background and he wants to hear those words—his scripture—once again.

"What?" His voice cracks on the single syllable. Pathetic, yes, but he can't bring himself to care.

You step closer. You were already close from before but now you're close, close enough for him to feel the warmth that oozes out of you, close enough to feel your breath on his lips, close enough to be blessed by the Almighty.

"I said," you draw out the syllables, a hand coming to cup his face. "I like you, Okkotsu, keep up. I thought special grades were supposed to be quick on their feet?"

And then your mouths meet and he feels his body rejoice. The world ends and begins. There was light in the vast darkness. A supernova and the start of stellar evolution. Your lips are warm despite the rain's cold and you taste faintly of the soda you were drinking earlier—and his lungs collapse for a moment.

His hands hover awkwardly before they find solace in your waist, clutching your wet uniform. His grip is tight, anchoring himself before he starts floating towards the heavens from the overwhelming sense of euphoria that thuds against his ribcage.

You like him, you like him, you like him—!

When you pull away, a cry rips out of his throat and he immediately tries to chase after your lips, and you laugh—a small puff of breath that warms his cold lips. His cursed energy swirls around you in a frenzy—its wide expanse on the edge of swallowing you whole.

"Do you get it now?" you tease. "Was that so hard to comprehend?"

"I love you." A prayer, a hymn, a litany. "I love you, I love you, I love you—"

"Okay, okay," you hush him with an index finger to his lips but you're smiling. "I heard you the first time, Okkotsu."

He pulls you into his chest, his face buried into your crown. His hands wrap around you more tightly and you squeak in protest. The rain still kisses the ground and the convenience store in the distance emits tiny jingles from its automatic doors. The skies roar with a faint thunder.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confesses, pulling away to see your heavenly face (but his grip is unrelenting). "Ever since you smiled at me in first year. I thought—"

"Shh." Your hands come around his back, fingers digging into the now-translucent material of his uniform. "You need to calm your cursed energy."

Who is he to disobey? It's supposed to be easy—he trained with Miguel for goodness sake but his cursed energy always goes out of control when you're near, but still he tries to keep it at bay. He presses a kiss to your hair, to your temple, to the shell of your ear—each touch a promise of his devotion to you.

God, Yuta loves you.

Okkotsu's sweet.

Like candy that'll melt on your tongue, the peach juice on a hot summer day, the pollen to a bee. Simple, quick and relieving. He's good on the eyes too, which is an added bonus.

But he kneels at an altar you didn't know you built. Every word an offering, every touch a devotion. You don't know how to feel—is he putting you on a pedestal or is this simply how he loves? But you don't get an answer, and you're not sure if you want to know.

"Itadori-kun, this looks really good." Your mouth waters at the sight of the lasagna the third-year has presented to you. You are not a huge fan of foreign food but, hey, if your underclassmen asked if you would like some food (ignoring the fact it's two in the morning and it's just you two alone in the kitchen), who are you to turn him down?

Itadori's cheeks match the pink of his hair at your praise. "Thanks, Yumeno-senpai!"

You take a seat next to Itadori on the counter and twirl your fork. "You know, you can just use my first name. We've known each other long enough."

Itadori scratches the back of his neck. "Ah, but Yumeno-senpai has a nice ring to it, don't you think? And it's way more respectful! You are a fourth year and my grandfather always told me to respect my upperclassmen."

You sling an arm around his shoulders. "Itadori-kun, you really are too nice for this world." You take a bite of the lasagna. "And a good cook! Wow, this is really good!"

"Really!?" His face lights up like you've told him he's just won the lottery. "I was worried about the seasoning. Kugisaki always tells me I never do it right and Gojo-sensei always says I need to add more salt."

"That man only eats sugar so never trust him with any food opinions," you say sagely. "Actually, don't trust any of the advice he sells as life-changing."

Itadori laughs and it's bright, easy.

The conversation flows easily after that. You understand why the other third years stick to him like glue. Itadori really is sunshine made manifest.

You talk about nothing and everything—his latest mission with Kugisaki and Megumi (apparently the girl almost exorcised the sea-urchin than the curse due to the similarities in looks), Maki throwing a cursed tool at Inumaki and Panda when they ate her portion for lunch, and apparently Itadori trying to bake because of wanting to "expand my range".

"You're going to make someone very happy someday," you say as you finish the last bite, letting out a contented sigh.

His face turns a tiny bit red. "Senpai!"

"What? It's true?" You ruffle his hair and he leans into the touch like a puppy (if Itadori ever turned into a puppy, you'd steal him away). "Any girl or guy would be lucky."

"Well. . ." He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly interested in the empty plate on his lap. "I don't really think about that stuff. There's too much going on, you know? With everything that has happened so far . . ."

Ah. You look at the younger boy and his tight expression and yours softens. You bump your shoulder with his. "Well, when you're ready, they'll be lucky."

Itadori smiles and it reaches his eyes this time. "Thanks, senpai."

The clock strikes three when you and Itadori finally part ways after washing the dishes. The fourth year dorm area is silent save for the distant humming for the vending machine and the buzzing of the cicadas.

You stop when you feel that familiar state of overwhelm bind your shoulders and slithers all around you, and at the end of the hallway. You stop and spot a figure you weren't supposed to see for another two days. Okkotsu.

The poor guy looks awful—his uniform is rumpled and the bags under his eyes seem even darker even with the dim lighting in the hallway. Yet when your gazes meet, his entire face transforms and the exhaustion melts away, and his eyes come back to life.

"Yumeno." He sounds relieved to be saying your name. He quickly makes his way to you, a gentle smile tugging on the edge of his lips. "What are you doing up at this hour? You should be asleep."

"I should be asking you that," you say, tilting his chin to inspect any damages. None. As expected from a special grade sorcerer. "You weren't supposed to be back until the end of the week. Gojo-sensei said it was a heavy mission."

"Finished early," he hums, his hands coming up to place it on his cheeks. "Wanted come back and see everyone. Wanted to see you."

Such a simple and honest yet loaded answer. That's Yuta Okkotsu for you.

Before you can give an answer, you hear footsteps behind you and feel Itadori's cursed energy (which you can describe as straightforward). You immediately drop your hands from Okkotsu's face.

"Yumeno-senpai! Wait—oh!" Itadori comes to a halt and you turn around to find him holding a phone. Your phone. "I think we swapped our phones while eating and doing the dishes. Mine has a Gintama keychain and this one has a—"

"Totoro charm," you finish, fishing out your pocket and, sure enough, Gintoki Sakata is hanging from the phone you just fished out. "Oops. Sorry about that."

"No worries." Itadori hands you your phone and seems to notice Okkotsu. "Oh! Okkotsu-senpai, you're back early. How was the mission?"

"It was alright." Okkotsu smiles at the underclassmen. His energy is infectious despite it being three in the morning. "Thank you for keeping her company, Itadori-kun."

Itadori, bless his oblivious heart, just waves him off with a shake of his head. "It was nothing. I just made some lasagna and she found me cooking so she ate it. She said she liked it though!"

"Huh. . ." Okkotsu's eyes wander back to you and you ignore his gaze, smiling at Itadori instead and bidding him a good night and to sleep well for training in the morning. The salmon-haired boy waves goodbye to you and Okkotsu before continuing down his merry way.

There's a moment of silence before you speak: "Your cursed energy is going haywire."

Okkotsu has the decency to look sheepish and you feel the oppressive weight of his cursed energy pacifies slightly—not fully when you're near.

"Sorry," he apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just . . . I—I wasn't expecting you to be with Itadori so late."

The implication isn't lost on you. You could address it, and ask why his cursed energy felt like it was about to blow up the entire dormitory building at the sight of you with the pink-haired underclassman.

You don't. You look the other way instead and start walking to your door and Okkotsu is hot on your heels.

The walk to your dorm is short but Okkotsu makes it feel like a pilgrimage. His long legs match your pace perfectly and his pinky is hooked around yours.

"You didn't have to come back so quickly," you say. "You could've stopped by some hotel instead of coming all the way back to Tokyo."

"I wanted to." He turns to look at you and his expression is soft, earnest. "There were a plethora of curses but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Miguel came by from Africa during the second day, and said my control is getting better."

"Yet I'm the exception."

His pale face tints with pink. "That's different."

"Really?"

He stops walking and you stop too, turning to face him. The moonlight that seeps from the window spills onto the angles of his face, highlighting the face you've come to admire all these past years. "You're different. You know why."

There is it again—the altar, the pedestal. You're not sure if you deserve to be placed on it.

(But you're also not sure if you want to come down from a high place.)

You say nothing and tug on his hand this time as you lead him to your room, ignoring the reverence in his words. You stop in front of your door and Okkotsu stands behind you like he's waiting to be dismissed.

"Okkotsu."

"Mm?"

"Why do you look at me like that?"

He has the audacity to blink and look confused. "Like what?"

You turn to face him, a deadpan expression on your face. Surely, he can't be this oblivious but you really don't want to be dealing with feelings at three in the morning when the person in front of you looks like he's going to pass out any second now.

"Never mind." You pull him down by the collar to your height and stare at all his pathetic, mighty glory. Okkotsu's eyes widen but he leans in closer.

He breathes your name as if it's something unspeakable.

You seal your lips with his.

Okkotsu makes a broken sound against your mouth and his hands find your waist immediately, gripping the fabric of your sleep shirt. His grasp is secure (you're the only thing keeping him from drowning yet he drowns into you). He guides you backward until your back hits the door, and the impact makes you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

His lips are chapped from the mission, no doubt from the cold wind, but they're so soft, they're so eager. He kisses you like he's terrified this will be the last time, he kisses you like he's trying to memorize what you feel against his lips, he kisses you like he's trying to fuse you two in one soul. (Maybe he is.)

Your fingers thread through the tresses of his dark hair and tug lightly. He says your name into your mouth and you feel his hands slide from your waist to your lower back, trying to eliminate every atom in existence that puts a distance between him and you.

One of your hands stays in his hair while the other traces the line of his jaw and he leans into the touch. Your mouth trails from his lips to the corner of his jaw and you feel him shudder against you. He gasps, murmuring your name as his head falls back to give you more access.

You pepper kisses against his pulse point and you feel it jump beneath your mouth before you bite on his pretty neck and he whines. Actually whines. The sound goes straight to you.

But you're both standing in the middle of the hallway and anyone could walk by and you know if Gojo-sensei would ever find out about this, the white haired nuisance won't let it go. You reluctantly pull back and the sight of Okkotsu is something you want burned into your retinas.

His dark hair is mussed from your fingers. His lips are swollen and slick with the spit you two just shared. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink that trails all the way down to his neck. His eyes are half-lidded, dazed and looking at you like you're the answer in every prayer he has sent (to him, you are).

"You should rest," you say, voice steady despite the rendezvous you two just shared. "You just got back from a mission."

"I don't want to leave yet." His hands are still on your lower back, fingers slipping under your shirt to trace mindless patterns on your back. "Can I stay a little longer? Please?" His voice is a plea, a beg.

Really, you should say no. A good person would have told him to go back to his room and sleep and to take care of himself. That's what a good person should do.

But you're not a good person. Not really.

"Five minutes," you concede and his face lights up like you've gifted him the world.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and his lips linger there, his cursed energy settles into something akin to a weighted blanket wrapping around you like a second skin.

"Thank you," he whispers against your skin.

You don't know what he's thanking you for. The kiss? The five minutes? Existing? Knowing Okkotsu Yuta, it's probably all three. Without thinking, you unlock your door behind you and lead him inside not before connecting your lips with his sweet ones.

Okkotsu is sweet. Like cake fluffing itself inside your mouth, sugar dissolving in your tongue, the honey to a bear.

But there's only so much sweetness you can handle before you get sick of it.

The next morning, you find yourself in a three-way with Megumi and Maki.

Not like that.

It's more like getting your ass handed to you.

Maki's katana almost slices your ear off but you manage to duck and immediately have to narrowly avoid the shadow portal Megumi has summoned on the ground specifically for you. Megumi summons Rabbit Escape and you have to lead them back into the shadow he made before you get toppled over by a bunch of furry animals. Oh, you're so killing that asshat.

"You're getting sloppy, Yumeno!" Maki barks, spinning her katana for another strike.

"You try dodging a shikigami and a cursed tool at the same time," you mutter but you're grinning as you dodge another attack, the katana only grazing your cheek this time before you push Maki's solar plexus.

Megumi forms a hand sign. "Divine Dog: Totality."

"Megumi Fushiguro, you fucker—"

The dog (if you can even call it that) appears and growls before lunging at you and you have no choice but to run. Maki uses the distraction to grab you by the arm and slam you on the ground, the katana's tip pointed at your throat. The beast retreats back into the shadows, and you groan.

"Yield," Maki says.

"I yield." You laugh as she removes the katana and you sit up, glaring at the sea-urchin. "You traitor. I taught you how to skip stones and this is how you repay me?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "You also threw me into a koi pond to see if I could summon my shikigami from drowning."

"Excuses, excuses. Show some respect for your upperclassmen."

Maki snorts, offering a hand. You take it, letting her pull you up before the three of you call it a truce. Megumi hands you a water bottle and you take it with a small bump on the shoulder. The morning sun spins happily and the cicadas have started their song.

"You were distracted," Maki says suddenly to you just as you were chugging down your water.

"I wasn't."

"You yielded. That usually doesn't happen."

"Well, it happened," you say, rolling your neck. "Besides, I didn't have a good sleep."

Maki hums, unconvinced but drops it. Megumi frowns and hands you a protein bar he had in his pocket. You smile at the younger boy and take it.

"You should take a nap before the briefing," he says. "Gojo will talk for hours before we can even know what we're dealing with."

"Jeez, for someone who is so stuck up his own ass all the time, you worry too much."

"I'm just—"

"I'm fine, Megumi.

He doesn't push and sighs. You grab his hand and give it a quick squeeze to reassure him. Maki sends Megumi to grab some towels from the nearby storage shed and it's just the two of you. She drinks her water, staring off into the distance with her sharp eyes. Maki has always been direct and impossible to bullshit. It's one of the many things you respect about her and it's also what makes conversations, sometimes, so tedious.

"So," she says, finally. "You and Yuta."

It's not really a question. Not when Maki knows the answer, but you humor your friend anyway. "What about him?"

"I saw him leave your room this morning."

Ah. Well, five minutes turned into five more and then another five more until you had to shove the special grade sorcerer out of your room. Maki's always been an early riser so of course she would've seen Okkotsu stumbling out of your door with mussed hair, a rumpled uniform and that stupid lovesick expression on his face.

"What about it?"

Her jaw tightens. It's not visible to most people but you've known her long enough to see her tiny tells.

"Are you dating?" she asks bluntly.

Straight to the point. That's the Maki you know and love.

You consider the question. Are you and Okkotsu dating? You let him kiss his whole life into your doorways and press his devotion against your skin. But dating implies something mutual. Something, dare you say, equal. But you're not sure if you're ready to give all of yourself to him just like how he readily handed his to you.

"No," you say, voice bored. "We're not. We're just friends."

Maki blinks, caught off-guard by your reply but then again you're not exactly a conventional person. "Friends. Right."

"We're not that close, Maki."

"You know how he feels about you," she says slowly. "Everyone knows."

"Okkotsu feels a lot of things," you laugh softly. "Look how he cursed his childhood friend. Besides, his feelings are not my responsibility."

(Another lie. Or maybe it's the only truth you've said to Maki today. You're not really sure. All you know is that Yuta Okkotsu loves you like a drowning man loves air, and you're standing on the shore watching him struggle, occasionally letting him breathe just to keep him alive.

It's cruel. You know it's cruel.)

Maki is quiet for a long moment before she nods, voice carefully steady. "I see."

You're not blind. You've seen the way Maki looks at Okkotsu like he's precious. She gets softer around him—sure, it's wrapped around her signature stiffness but you and the other fourth-years can detect it. You've seen the way she speaks around him—in a tone that goes beyond the simple border of friendship.

(And, yet, here you are, holding Okkotsu's heart in your hands, squeezing just hard enough to bruise. It's not your fault. He's the one who handed it to you on a silver platter.)

"I found the towels," comes Megumi's voice and he emerges into your view with a stack of towels. "Took longer because someone put it on the top shelf."

"That was probably Panda," Maki says.

You take a towel and press it in your face. The fabric smells like laundry detergent and o the times when you were just younger, before exorcising curses and the complexity that is your feelings. You push those thoughts away when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out to see a message from Gojo.

Gojo Satoru (DO NOT ANSWER!!): 🥰😍Don't forget! Mission briefing in twenty minutes! You AND Megumi! Come to my office! Don't be late or I'll tell everyone about the time you tripped and ate dog shit in front of a guy you found attractive. 💩💖💞

Megumi peers over your shoulder and you see the amusement settle into his pretty eyes when he reads your message.

"Don't laugh!" You put a hand on your hip and glare at the boy.

"I'm not."

"Sure, Megumi, and I haven't known you since we were kids."

A beat. Then, a barely perceptible twitch on the corner of his mouth. It's the closest thing to laughter you'll get from him in public, and you take it for what it is—he is yours in a way no one else is. Your best friend. Your shadow. The same idiot who called you by your surname for months just to piss you off because you spilled coffee on his favorite movie's CD.

"Well, I'll be going." Maki raises a hand. "Try not to let Gojo's idiocy affect you anymore, Yumeno."

"I'll try, my beautiful Maki-chan."

"Next time, I'll slice your head off."

"Aw, I love you too!"

She snorts. You laugh and bid the girl goodbye, watching her walk away. You catch the way her shoulders are just a little stiff, her grip on the katana a little too tight. Ah, you did that. You didn't really give her an honest conversation, but you really don't like talking about Okkotsu.

(He tastes like sugar on your tongue. The thing is you're not the only one tasting it, but unlike you, Maki would probably savor every last drop.)

Oh, well. You have more important matters to tend to. Such as Gojo's briefing. Despite the emojis he sent like the millennial that he is that made you not want to attend out of spite, you walk side-by-side with Megumi on the way to his office.

"Okkotsu-senpai was in the fourth year dorms last night," he says. "Itadori mentioned it."

"Megumi, he's a fourth year."

"Itadori said his cursed energy was all over the place."

"He was tired, he just got back from a mission. Cut the guy some slack."

Megumi looks at you and you turn to examine his face. There's a smudge of dirt on his cheek. You reach up and wipe it away with your thumb without thinking. He doesn't flinch or pull back. He just lets you, the same way you've always done since you were a bright-eyed kid making fun of his hair. He catches your hand briefly when it drops from his face.

You don't pull away and let your fingers intertwine with his. The two of you walk like that in silence for a few more steps until Gojo's office door is right in front of you and Megumi releases your hand, his indifference masking his softness.

Gojo Satoru is sprawled across his desk when you two enter. He claps his hands together when he sees you both. "There you are! You made me wait quite a while."

You and Megumi drop into a chair across from him and Gojo's blindfold crinkles with a smile as he looks between the two of you and the way Megumi doesn't shy away from the close proximity.

"Let's get straight to the point then," he says, tone a bit more serious but still have that happy-to-go-lucky undertone. "There is a cluster of curses detected in Saitama. It's grade two, maybe a little higher. I'm sending you both."

"Just us?" Megumi asks.

"Yep. You two work well together. And besides—" His grin turns teasing and you sigh. "—you're practically attached at the hip anyway. It'll be a breeze so I'm technically doing the world a favor."

You can feel Megumi roll his eyes without even looking at him.

"When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. I already arranged the transport. Nitta will be driving you," Gojo props his chin on the palm of his hand. "It should be quick, considering the caliber of your strength, but if anything goes wrong, you call me. Understood?"

You and Megumi nod. Just as you two stand up, Gojo calls out to you, voice uncharacteristically soft. "Yumeno. A word before you go?"

Megumi glances at you but you give him a smile and nod. He nods in return and slips out of the office and the door clicks shut behind him and you turn to face your teacher. Gojo pulls off his blindfold, revealing those blue eyes that seem to pierce into your very soul. He studies you for a moment, his head tilted to the side.

He says your name. "You know I love you like you're my own, right?"

"Yes. . .?" You're unsure where this is going.

"So, don't do anything reckless. Not with Yuta-kun, not with anyone else. You tend to take more than you can handle."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't."

You hold his gaze for a moment, your expression remains unmoved. Gojo stares at you for a long beat and then he laughs—bright, genuine with a touch of sadness.

"You look like your mother. You had her stubbornness too," he says with a nostalgic smile. "Like nothing in the world could touch her."

"And look where that got her."

The silence that follows is heavy with many unsaid things before Gojo waves a hand, shooing you towards the door. "Go on, sweetheart. Go pack. Megumi is probably waiting outside for you."

You do as you're told but when your hand lands on the knob, you pause. "Satoru."

"Yes?"

"Thank you." You flash him a soft smile. "For . . . everything."

He smiles back. "Anything for you, honey."

You step into the hallway and, sure enough, Megumi is waiting for you, scrolling through his phone. His head snaps up when he hears the door open and waits for you to start walking before he follows.

"So, Saitama," he says after a moment of silence.

"It'll be a trip down memory lane. We could go to that Mini Stop again. I wonder if they still have that sando . . ."

Megumi says your name and he looks at you, his gaze lingering.

You skid to a stop and tilt your head. He sighs and tucks a hair behind your ear and you catch his hand. "What, Megumi?"

"Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow."

He turns down the corridor towards the third year dorms and you watch him go, frowning. Sure, Megumi is emotionally constipated and would rather have his organs removed than talk about his feelings but he was always open to you than he was with anybody in this school.

You sigh and head towards your room. It looks exactly like it did in the morning—bed unmade and curtains drawn. Your phone buzzes with messages but you turn it off and toss it on your bed and you start packing.

The morning brings a grey overcast. You lean by the car door, watching Megumi by the trunk double-checking his supplies, the same meticulous focus you've always seen him display during missions and when trying to win his way out of Monopoly (Megumi still doesn't know how you're the only one who can beat him in Monopoly). Nitta is in the driver's seat with the engine idle.

"You'll forget your own head one day," you tease.

"You'll be there to remind me," he says, not looking up.

"Sadly."

"How unfortunate for you."

You're about to shoot a response when you feel it—that recognizable overwhelming cursed energy that wraps around your shoulders like an eager dog greeting their owner. You don't need to turn around to know who it is but you do, not before telling Megumi to wait for you.

"Yumeno!"

You walk towards the voice and immediately Okkotsu materializes in front of you, earnest and bright. He's breathless, he did just return from another mission. His uniform is rumpled, katana strapped to his back, and dark strands of his hair clinging to his forehead.

"You're back," you say, a smile tugging on your lips. "Miss me that much?"

"I did." Always so honest, always so sweet. He's close enough that you can see the faint scar on his cheek. The tiredness in his eyes melt the moment they stumble upon you, parched he was. His hands twitch at his sides, unsure if you want him to touch you or not.

"You always come back so soon. Gojo's really working you to the bone, huh?"

"It's nothing special. Just a grade one." He waves a dismissive hand. "I heard you're going to Saitama with Fushiguro."

"Yep." You pop the p. "Just a small cluster of curses. Nothing we can't handle."

"I could come with you," he immediately offers, eager. "I just got back but I'm not really that tired, trust me. I could—"

"Okkotsu." You look at him, a ghost of a smile on your lips. "We'll be fine. It's grade two. You don't need to babysit me."

He hums, a hand reaching out to hold yours. "I just wanted to see you before I left."

So, so sweet.

"You're sweet, Okkotsu."

He gets red but his eyes are still on you. "I brought you something. From my mission. It's not much but I wanted to get it for you." He fumbles in his pockets, pulling out a small charm—an omamori, a token of protection, of luck and of thinking of you even when you're not here.

You take the omamori from his hand, fingers brushing and his breath catches in his throat before placing it inside your skirt pocket. "Thank you," you say. "It's cute."

An adoring smile tugs at the of his lips and he leans in. It's muscle memory at this point, the expectation of a kiss, the press of your lips against his, the oxygen he craves. You can practically taste the desperation that radiates from him, sweet and cloying.

You place your hand over his mouth and, expectedly, he freezes. His cursed energy stills.

"Ah, ah," you tut and shake your head, pushing his face back gently. "Nitta's waiting. We're on a schedule."

"Oh." His voice is muffled against your palm. You drop your hand and he stares at you with those wide and kicked, puppy-eyes. "Right. Sorry, I didn't mean too—"

You pat his cheek, once, twice. "Get some rest, Okkotsu. You look horrible."

"I just missed you." Like that explained everything (maybe it did, maybe it didn't).

"I know, Okkotsu, I know." That's the problem, isn't it?

You pull away and wave a goodbye before you make your way to the car. Megumi is now in the backseat, watching the whole exchange with his usual impassive expression. You settle down beside and shut the door.

"Let's go Nitta-san," you say. The car pulls away and through the window you can see Okkotsu standing in the pavement, his face a mix of desperation and adoration (they're so intertwined they might as well be one at this point). You watch him shrink away until the car makes a turn and he disappears.

You lean your head against the window, feeling the cool glass against your temple. Megumi's hands find yours on the seat between you two and his fingers lace through yours. It's grounding, you think. (Okkotsu's hold is desperate, Megumi's is steady.)

You don't let go for the rest of the drive.

The ryokan is traditional. That's the only description you can give. It reminds you of those movies you've dragged Megumi and Tsumiki to watch with you and you just watched their expressions the whole time. It's located in the outskirts of the city, just an hour of driving before Kawagoe.

The curse activity hahed been concentrated in an abandoned shrine behind the ryokan but the trail had gone cold when you and Megumi had arrived. Nitta had advised waiting until morning to track it properly.

"We'll head out in the morning," Megumi says, setting down your bags in the corner of the room while you come out of the bathroom in pajamas. "The curse attacks when it's at night so we can catch it off guard during the day. We'll have visibility."

"Aww, look at yourself, Megumi," you coo as you plop down on the shikubuton, spreading your arms wide. "I remember when you're an angry kid who wouldn't talk to anyone."

"I talked to you."

"You ignored me for five months straight because I used '-chan' instead of '-kun'."

"You were annoying for those five months. You would never leave me alone."

"God forbid I want a new friend and Tsumiki-chan was always talking about how nice you are."

"I am nice. I just don't show it to you."

"You don't show it to anyone."

But there's a smile on your lips as you recount your past memories with Megumi and Tsumiki. You've known him and his sister ever since you were ten years old and Gojo had borrowed you from your clan to make "new friends" and you'd met a literal angel and devil. You pestered poor Megumi for months, mostly it was just to see him get angry and show emotion but, somewhere, somehow, you became one of his closest friends and he you.

You watch the sea urchin settle on the second shikubuton the owner had laid next to yours. He turns off the light and darkness swallows you both. It's quiet and the only light is from the spilled moonlight. The owls have made their hoots and you can hear the distant buzzing of the fireflies.

You should sleep but your mind seems to be running at fifteen hundred miles per second. You turn on your side to find Megumi already facing your direction, eyes closed.

"Farm Tomita is beautiful this time the year," you say, apropos of nothing. "Remember that place?

Another pause then quietly: "You wanted to go so you could get inspiration when you become a florist."

The words hit you in the chest. It feels like a lifetime ago. Just two little kids nestled under the blankets while you showed him magazines of the farm, the only light source the flashlight he had held so you could read the contents to him properly. Those memories are hazy but it brings a sense of happiness.

"I did," you laugh. "I wanted to open a flower shop and argue back at rude customers like how those people did in the movies."

"You'd tell them they have the wrong opinion and just ignore them until they left."

"Best customer service. Five out of five, truly."

The silence that follows is comfortable and Megumi's cursed energy wraps over you like a warm blanket a mother pulls up to their child's chin. It's comforting.

"Do you still want to?" he asks eventually. "Go to Hokkaido?"

"Yeah," you breathe out. "Lavender East is fucking beautiful. It looks like it goes on forever. Maybe I could move there after graduation and really become a florist."

"You want to leave the jujutsu world," he says and it's not a question. You chuckle, Megumi has always been able to read you. The statement could've been passed off as a joke, some distant dream, but you've never escaped Megumi's radar.

"I'm tired, Megumi," you whisper. "After everything happened and having to watch people die and seeing you like that—" Your breath shudders and Megumi's shoulders stiffen but he doesn't look away from you. "I don't think I want to do this anymore. I never really wanted to anyways, it was just my technique."

He falls silent and the rain that has been waiting in the grey overcast finally falls, a soft patter against the roof tiles, filling the quiet between you two.

"I support you." Megumi's voice is sincere. "Whatever you decide. You can always come back to me."

You smile, it's small but genuine. "You and Tsumiki-chan could come visit when I finally open a shop in Hokkaido. She'd like that place, wouldn't she? The clean air is good for her."

"Tsumiki would like anywhere you are." A pause. "So would I."

You feel your chest tighten with tacit emotions and you reach across the space between your mattresses and he meets you halfway, fingers curling around each other. His hand is calloused but gentle and warm.

"What about you?" you ask. "Do you want to leave?"

Megumi falls silent for a long moment and you can hear the rain more clearly again. "I don't really see a point in being a sorcerer," he admits. "I don't have any grand philosophy or whatever. I never have."

"You have Tsumiki-chan."

"I do." His grip tightens. "And I almost lost her, more than once. I don't want that to happen again. If being a sorcerer is what it takes to protect her, then that's what I'll do even if it lasts my whole life. There's nothing else for me."

"There could be," you say softly. "If you wanted."

"Maybe." He isn't entirely convinced. "But not yet."

You squeeze his hand. "Whatever you want, whatever you choose—I'll be on your side."

He looks at you and for a moment, you're just two children, whispering and giggling under the covers, talking about dreams way too big and way too out of reach for a world so bloody such as yours. You'd give everything to go back to those times.

"And Okkotsu-senpai?" Megumi asks and the change is so sudden it almost gives you whiplash. "What are you going to do about him if you leave?"

You groan. "Do we really have to talk about this now?"

"You brought up leaving."

"I brought up flower farms."

"And leaving." He looks at you with an expression that toes the line of being accusatory. "Well? What are you going to do?"

You wave your free hand in a vague manner. "I don't know. Break up with him, I guess?"

"I thought you weren't together."

"Right. Well, that makes my job easier. I don't need to do anything."

Megumi reaches over to pinch your side, also with his free hand.

"Ow—Megumi!"

"You're cruel."

"I'm realistic."

"You're cruel," he repeats but there's no anger or reprimand behind it. Just a reminder. "He's been smitten with you, according to the students in your grade, since first year. Everyone knows, even Gojo and that idiot is oblivious to everything that isn't about himself."

"Gojo knows everything. That's, like, his whole thing with the Six Eyes."

"Don't go changing the subject now."

You sigh, turning to lay down on your back. Your hands are still linked between your shikibutons. "What do you want me to say, Megumi? That I love him and I'm going to marry him and have two kids with him and a white picket fence? Because we're not Americans and you out of all people should know that's not who I am or what I want."

"I just don't want you to become the bad guy when you eventually hurt him."

"Don't worry, he'll survive."

"Will he?"

To be frank, you don't know if Yuta Okkotsu would survive you leaving. You don't know if he'd shatter to a thousand pieces or find someone else to kneel to. And the worst part, the cruel part is that you're not sure you care either way. (You do care. You care enough to hate yourself but not enough to throw away the feeling.)

The silence stretches between you two and Megumi's thumb starts to trace circles on the back of your hand.

You whisper his name. He whispers yours.

His eyes are half-lidded now, the exhaustion of the day (and the conversation you two shared) finally catching up to him. You watch his breathing even out, his grip loosening but never letting go.

You don't let go either. Fingers interlocked as the two of you drift off to other worlds.

The mission goes easier than expected. Megumi handles it with his shadows and shikigami and your technique delivers the finishing blow.

"That was anticlimactic," you say with a frown, watching the curse dissolve from thin wisps of air to eventually nothing. The birds have started singing their song now that the air is clear again.

"You're complaining about an easy mission?"

"It was boring." Megumi gives you an unimpressed look while you just shrug. You grab your phone and check the time. "Nitta won't be back for another two hours. Let's go somewhere."

"The Mini Stop?"

You smile. "The Mini Stop."

The Mini Stop hasn't changed when you two arrive. It's still tucked in the corner of a quiet street, a small distance away from Megumi's middle school. The automatic doors make a sound of distress when they open and the store still plays that pop song that you aren't sure if it's in Japanese or an entire made up language.

You grab two sandos and two sodas before Megumi could even say what he wanted. He sighs and pulls out his wallet.

"My treat," he grumbles.

"Megumi Fushiguro, are you actually being nice to me?"

"Be quiet."

You grin and drop the products onto the counter. Megumi pays and the two of you settle at a small and cramped table outside, just like years ago when Gojo dropped you off to socialize with the siblings but you just ended up talking with Tsumiki while her younger brother did homework in the background.

"I remember coming here to find you," you say as you unwrap your sandwich. "Only to find Tsumiki-chan and she would drag me to where you were beating the shit of those delinquents."

"I wasn't beating them up. I was just teaching them a lesson."

"Kind of the same thing. Let's not forget you sent three guys to the ER."

"They were picking on some kid."

"Ah, my knight in shining armor." You make kissy faces at him. "Defending the weak! How noble of you, my knight."

He gives you a flat look but his ears are pink. "Don't act like you didn't show up too. I thought you were going to get yourself killed."

"I just wanted to help!"

"You threw a shoe at one of them."

"It worked, didn't it? He was very confused."

"Your shoe didn't even reach him and he was confused because you were screaming the Sailor Moon theme song."

"I wanted to hype myself up!" But you're laughing at the memory. It's a good memory despite the blood and bruises. It's yours. Tucked away in the back of your mind, hoarded like precious treasure.

"Tsumiki-chan scolded us for that," you say with a wistful smile on your face. "Made us promise not to get into any fights. Until you broke it within, like, five days."

"He was calling you names."

"You really are my knight, Megumi!"

Megumi glares at you. He takes a bite of his sandwich and you finish the rest of yours, watching the occasional pedestrian pass by.

"Thanks for paying by the way," you say as the two of you finish the food and Megumi throws away the trash.

"I always pay."

"Because you're such a gentleman."

"Because you always "forget" your wallet."

"Details."

The ride back to Tokyo is quiet. Megumi dozes off somewhere in the twenty minute mark while you watch the Saitama landscape melt into Tokyo's suburbs. Nitta has the radio on a low volume, some announcers murmuring about the upcoming summer season.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Once. Twice. Thrice. You don't bother to check it. You already know who it is anyways.

The sun has started to descend when you arrive. Megumi stirs awake beside you, blinking his eyes awake with groggy confusion. You laugh at his expression. "We're baaackk."

"I can see that."

"Did you have a nice sleep, princess?"

If looks could kill, Megumi would probably be put on trial right now with Nitta as the unfortunate witness. You grin and slide out of the car. The two of you thank Nitta with a polite bow and a promise of a mission report filed tomorrow.

"I'll handle the report," Megumi says as the two of you ascend towards the torii gates. "You're terrible at paperwork."

"Gee thanks. I'm not that terrible, though, I just have better things to do."

"You wrote 'curse go boom' with a crude drawing on an entire mission summary once."

"Gojo accepted it."

"Gojo accepts anything you give him."

Well, shit. You can't argue with that. "Whatever. Go to sleep, Megumi. You look like shit."

"So do you."

"Not possible. I always look beautiful."

He deadpans and you giggle as the two of you make your way inside the school. He raises a hand in farewell before he heads off to the third year dorms while you make a beeline towards the communal kitchen. It seems to be calling out your name after all.

The kitchen light spills onto the dimly lit hallway and you hear voices before you even reach the doorway—Okkotsu's gentle laugh and Maki's voice. Okkotsu is speaking and you can hear the sheepish smile in his voice while Maki replies with that same cutting edge, though this time it's less sharp. Hm, must be Okkotsu's effect.

You pause just before the threshold, peering in through the gap the door offers. Their backs are to you and something delicious is cooking on the stove—something that smells like omurice, must be Okkotsu's doing. Maki says something that you can't quite hear and Okkotsu laughs.

There's an ease between, a comfort you can't quite rival. Maki's shoulders are relaxed and Okkotsu's cursed energy isn't all over the place, calm and steady (like Megumi's). You thought you would feel some sort of jealousy but you don't feel an ounce of anything—jealousy implies some sort of level of attachment but you don't think you've given that to Okkotsu yet.

Maki has been looking at Okkotsu differently since first year and he deserves someone who can match his vast devotion drop for drop, ocean for ocean. You're a lake at best. Maki is the damn Pacific.

You smile and leave the two alone in their conversation and what else is blooming between them. You head for the common room which is also kind of dark, save for the glow of a TV screen where some horror movie is playing. Panda is sitting on the floor and Inumaki is on the armrest of the couch with a bag of chips on his lap.

"Kelp," Inumaki greets, spotting you in the doorway while Panda waves his paw.

"Hey, hey," you greet back, draping yourself over Panda's back. "Is the main character going to make the worst decision yet?"

"Salmon."

"Damn. That bad?"

"Salmon, salmon."

Panda rumbles beneath you and you bury your face deeper into his fur. Despite being warm, he smells like sunshine and is also ridiculously soft, like a heated blanket that also happens to be sentient. "He's going to the basement," he narrates. "To 'investigate' a noise."

"Tuna mayo," Inumaki adds.

"Mustard leaf?" you offer and Inumaki's head swivels toward you with narrowed eyes.

"Bonito flakes. Bonito flakes."

"I'm pretty sure mustard leaf means "I'm very smart and I'm the best sorcerer in this room", actually."

"Bonito flakes!"

"See, he agrees," you tell Panda.

"I don't think that's what he's saying."

"You don't speak Inumaki."

"I've known him longer than you."

"Quality over quantity, Panda."

Inumaki shoves a chip into your mouth to shut you up and you accept it graciously, crunching loudly as the protagonist on the screen descends deeper into the basement like the absolute moron he is.

"Don't go any deeper!" you shout.

"Salmon!"

"He can't hear you," Panda points out.

"In spirit, in spirit. Oh my fuck, turn around—"

The three of you end up shouting curses at the main character and despite Inumaki's limited vocabulary, he's probably concocting the most devious swears in his head. By the time the main character trips over nothing while running from the killer, you're all in agreement that he had it coming.

"That's what you get for investigating 'strange noises'," Panda huffs.

"Salmon."

"Kelp, kelp," you say with a smile and Inumaki throws a chip at you which you catch with your mouth, munching happily at the free food promo you're getting. Maybe you should piss Inumaki off more. The door opens behind you three and you don't need to turn around to know who it is.

"There you are," Maki's voice says as she and Okkotsu make their way to where you are sitting. "We were wondering where you all went."

Okkotsu's voice is soft and borders on being reverent (a prayer, a hymn) as he says your name. You tilt your head to look at him and he's already staring at you with those big, earnest eyes. "You're back. How was the mission?"

"Easy," you say dismissively. "Megumi and I handled it in, like, forty minutes. While waiting for Nitta-san, we just ate some food. Megumi was judging my life choices, I think. He had this look to him . . ."

"Salmon."

"Thank you, my darling Inumaki, I do make excellent life choices."

"Bonito flakes."

"Way to make a girl happy."

Maki rolls her eyes and drops into the armchair near the couch, a smile tugging on the end of her lips. Okkotsu hovers for a moment, uncertain, before settling on the couch beside Panda, which is to say, beside you.

"Did you eat already?" he asks. "Maki-san and I made omurice and there's still some left if you want—"

"I'm good," you say and then because his face does that thing where his expression falls before he can catch himself, you add: "But I'll heat it up for tomorrow, yeah?"

The smile that breaks across his face is worth the lie. "Of course. I'll heat it up for you."

"Thanks, Okkotsu. That's sweet."

He flushes pink and Panda makes a gagging sound beneath you. "You two are disgusting," he says with a shake of his head and and you roll your eyes, burying yourself deeper into his fur. "It's worse than watching those romcoms."

"Salmon."

You flip Inumaki off and the room dissolves into laughter before Panda and Maki choose the next movie. Okkotsu's hand finds yours tentatively and you glance at him but he's already looking with an eager expression that is also part terror as if you might disappear if he blinks.

"Come here," he whispers and you laugh when he pulls you from Panda's back into his arms.

You land against his chest with a small oof and his arms wrap around you immediately like muscle memory. He's warm too but less like a heated blanket and more of a sunlight beaming through a window. His chin is on top of your head and you can hear his heartbeat, strong and so fast.

"I missed you," he murmurs into your hair, quiet enough that only you can hair.

"You saw me before I left."

"Still missed you."

You laugh and he smiles at the sound, nuzzling into you deeper. For a few moments, you let yourself stay here and be held. His cursed energy wraps around you once more and he smells like the omurice he was cooking and something that's just him. It's nice. It's comfortable.

Eventually, you pat his chest and remove yourself from his arms. "Alright, I'm beat."

"Already?" There's that kicked puppy look again.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Night, everyone." You pat his head and he opens his mouth but you're already walking away. You ruffle Panda's fur as you pass by him, flick Inumaki's forehead when he shoots you a pointed look and squeeze Maki's shoulder briefly where she squeezes your hand in return.

You're barely ten steps down the hallway to the dorms when you hear footsteps behind you. You sigh when you turn around. "Okkotsu."

"I just wanted to . . ." He catches up to you, out of breath like he just ran a marathon and rubs the back of his neck. "I wanted to walk you to your room."

"I'm halfway there. There's no need."

"I know, I just . . . " He trails off and you raise an eyebrow. "I didn't get to say a proper goodnight back there with everyone."

"And, pray tell, what constitutes a 'proper' goodnight?"

His ears turn pink and spread down his neck, disappearing beneath his white shirt. "I—just—you know—"

"No, I don't know. You'll have to show me, Okkotsu."

He says your name, a plea and a prayer wrapped in one.

"You should really be spending time with the others," you say walking into his space and his hands find your waist. Muscle memory. "They're gonna think you don't like them when you keep running off."

"I like them. I just like you more. Is that so bad?"

"Maybe. Probably. You can't say things like that though."

"Why not? It's true."

"A romantic, aren't you?"

"For you," he agrees and kisses you. When your fingers curl into his hair and pull him closer, he melts. His hands wander from your waist to your hips, to your spine, pulling you against him—always trying to eliminate even the smallest distance that separates him from you.

His lips move against yours with a desperation that borders on reverence. He makes sound when your tongue grazes his bottom lip. Your name leaves his mouth and he whispers them like a mantra.

He shudders when you tug gently on his hair and his grip tightens. He pulls away to trail down kisses from the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the spot underneath your ear that has your fingers digging into his scalp.

"What the fuck?"

You both freeze.

Kugisaki stands at the end of the hallway, her phone on one hand and a bag of chips on the other, staring at the two of you with a scandalized expression. "When the fuck did this happen?"

Okkotsu makes a noise that sounds like a dying animal and tries to pull away but his back hits the wall so he just ends up looking cornered. His face is so red it's hard to tell where the color begins and where it ends. His cursed energy is going crazy too—spasming all over the place.

"Kugisaki!" you say brightly, stepping away from Okkotsu with more composure. "I haven't seen you forever. How are you, my favorite underclassman?"

"Don't sweet talk me—are you two dating?"

You don't answer that question and cross the distance between you and pull the younger girl in a hug. She sputters against your shoulder but hugs you automatically—old habits die hard. "I missed you. Did you get taller? I think you got taller."

"I did not get taller and you're not answering the question—"

"Your skin looks good. New moisturizer?"

"Thanks, it's the one you recommended, but we are not changing the subje—"

"Great!" You release her and pat her head twice. "Let's catch up properly sometime, yeah? I'm exhausted. Saitama mission. Very tiring. Goodnight, Kugisaki."

"Goodn—hey! Senpai!"

But you're already walking away, grabbing Okkotsu's wrist and dragging him with you. He stumbles after you and you can hear Kugisaki's indignant sputtering as you finally stop in front of your door.

"I can't believe that just happened." He leans his head on your neck when you turn to look at him.

"It's not the end of the world. We just got caught making out."

"Yeah, but I don't really like getting interrupted."

"Wow, Okkotsu. How bold."

"I—" He buries his face deeper into your neck. "You know what I mean."

"I do." You pull his head away and cup his cheek, and he leans into the touch instantly, the tension melting away from his shoulders. "You're cute when embarrassed."

"Only when I'm embarrassed?"

"Don't push your luck."

He smiles and presses a kiss to your palm. "I love you," he says because of course he does (is that so bad? You suppose not).

You pull him down and kiss him, slow and deep, and his knees go weak and his cursed energy oozes like jazz. When you pull back, his pupils are dilated, lips slightly parted and he looks like he saw the pearly gates open just for him.

"Goodnight, Okkotsu." You push him away gently. "Spend time with the others. They're probably wondering where you are and what we're doing."

"One more?" he asks, so hopeful and so earnest that you roll your eyes and grant his wish of a peck on the lips.

"Now go."

He goes but he looks back at you three times with a smile that gets brighter than the last before he disappears when he turns the corner. Once he's out of sight, you slip into your room and close the door behind you.

Good God. You need a shower.

Yuta wouldn't really consider himself a jealous person. Jealousy is such a fickle thing and deities deserve nothing but grandiosity. But, alas, he is only a mere mortal so he is no exception to the green that coils around his chest, his lungs, his every fiber of his being when he sees you with Fushiguro.

He knows it's a sin. He shouldn't covet but what is there to covet? You aren't his. You bless him with your lips and descend your holy hands to touch his sullied skin, sure, but he has never heard the words that would tie you to him fall out of your mouth. But it's fine, he doesn't care for petty things such as labels.

Then again, he's reminded he's flesh and bones.

Fushiguro is a good kid—Yuta knows but do you really have to look at him like that? As far as anyone knows, you and Fushiguro knew each other before you both enrolled, taken under Gojo-sensei's wing. Ultimately, the question lingers—what does Fushiguro have that Yuta doesn't?

Silly question, human.

He has another life with you that Yuta doesn't have the access to. Key thrown away and only Fushiguro's robin can open the garden that only you and the black-haired third year can enter—filled with two kids hanging to each other for dear life. All Yuta has is the years tainted with curses, blood, wars, and seeing dear friends almost lose their lives.

Sullied, sullied, sullied.

But he's determined to change that. He can't change you but he can add more. More pleasant things, more delightful sights. He'll be your greatest offering.

"Furano?" Gojo-sensei's hums, his blue eyes staring at Yuta with interest. "The curses there are around grade two to semi-grade one. I can send someone else other than you, Yuta-kun."

Yuta's expression doesn't waver. He keeps his posture straight and his hands tied behind his back. But beneath his ribs, his heart is pulling at its own strings—the thought of going to Furano . . .

"I'd like to go," he says, his voice a juxtaposition to how his cursed energy is swirling around the room. "Hokkaido has been seeing an influx of curses. They might be below my grade but hundreds of grade two curses still need the same attention as a single special grade. It would also be a good practice for adapting to unfamiliar terrain."

Gojo-sensei tilts his head and Yuta can feel the weight of his Six Eyes studying, peeling back the layers of his skin and bone to find blood cells singing your name.

"Adapting to unfamiliar terrain?" Gojo repeats, the corner of his mouth twitching with an amused smile. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Yuta can feel his ears turn warm but he holds his ground. "I'm not sure what you mean, sensei."

A laugh—loud and knowing. Gojo leans back in his chair, crossing his long legs at the ankle. "Yuta-kun, Yuta-kun, you're a terrible liar sometimes," he chides, tapping a finger against his chin. "But I suppose it can't hurt. Hokkaido has been having a rise of curses in the past few weeks. The mission is direct enough and you're more than qualified." A pause. "And you want me to assign Yumeno as your partner?"

The sound of your name sends a ripple through Yuta's cursed energy but he reins it. "If possible. Her technique complements mine well."

"Is that so." His teacher's voice is light, teasing but carried with weight. "Yuta-kun, a piece of advice—free of charge." He leans forward. "There are some things even the strongest can't achieve by sheer force of will. Some rivers will only flow one way."

Yuta meets Gojo's blue eyes and he feels a bucket of cold water dump over him.

"I understand." Is the only response he can offer.

Gojo studies him for a long moment—Six Eyes prodding and poking at the molecules that make up his body before his grin returns. "Alright then! I'll assign you both to the mission. Can I ask why Furano, of all places?"

He thinks of the corridor—cursed energy concealed tight, something he had been practicing to last a full hour. He had seen you! And Fushiguro. Your phone shoved into his face and Fushiguro's eyes trained on the screen with the patience of someone who has endured this many times already.

"—and they go on forever! It's such a perfect purple."

Fushiguro's eyes traveled from the screen and you met his gaze easily, softness equal in all measures. "It's just flowers. You've shown me this before."

"Flowers?" You gasped, placing a hand on your hip with mock offense. "Just flowers, Fushiguro? You take that back. These are not just flowers, these are Lavandula angustifolia. They can reduce anxiety, you know—maybe you should roll around in them, might fix your shitty personality."

Fushiguro had rolled his eyes but then—a smile. A small, barely there smile but it reached his eyes and the irises glinted. "My personality is fine, thank you very much."

"That's still up for debate."

"I could just take you. Let's go after your graduation."

A ripple of shock had spread across your face. Your mouth opened, then closed. Your hand dropped to your side and for a single moment, you and Fushiguro were just staring at each other. Your defense, down. Invader? Damn Megumi Fushiguro.

"That's—" You faltered and your gaze skittered away from Fushiguro's, looking at your shoes. "You can't just say things like that, stupid."

"Like what?" Fushiguro's voice was calm. "I'm up for it. Let's go after your graduation. You wanted to, right? We'll bring Tsumiki too."

"You have responsibilities. You can't just drop everything to—to go look at flowers with me. You'll be a fourth year."

"I could drop it."

Yuta had seen the way you wouldn't meet Fushiguro's gaze, the way your beath came a fraction too fast, the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your skirt. By all accounts, you were flustered.

"You're so annoying," you finally managed, reaching to meet his eyes. "I hope you know that."

"You've been reminding me for the past eight years."

"Well. Good. 'Cause it's true." You shoved your phone back into your pocket. "You better not complain the whole time we're there. I wanna see every field and try the lavender ice cream and everything!"

"When have I complained?"

"Megumi, sweet cheeks or whatever, let me remind you of Okinaw—"

Fushiguro pinched your side and you laughed loudly. "Fine, no complaining. But I'm not paying for anything."

"Deal." (A lie. Megumi always buys everything for you). You nudged his shoulder. "Thanks, by the way. For wanting to go with me."

"Someone has to," he said simply. "Might as well be me."

You laughed then and gave Megumi a soft smile before dragging him away, saying something about draining Gojo-sensei's wallet to the point of bankruptcy.

Yuta felt the green coiled tighter tighter around his lungs, threatening to cut his oxygen supply. The feeling had only intensified when he found the magazine in your room—you had stepped away to grab some food from the kitchen. It was open to a two-page spread. Farm Tomita and Lavender East. The fields stretched across the beautiful paper in shades of unreal purple and around the location, drawn in ink, were hearts.

He had traced one of those hearts with the tip of his finger, examining the way the ink had bled at the edges, the dates you had circled for the blooming season, the little notes you had written at the margin—open 8:30 AM–5:30 PM, try the lavender ice cream!!, take Megumi here :).

Ah. Even here, on the page of your private dreams, Fushiguro had a place.

Yuta had pulled his hand back as your footsteps had approached. When you re-entered, his greedy hands found their way back home to your waist and he had re-sealed his devotion onto your holy cavern.

Yuta blinks and the office swims back into focus. Gojo-sensei is still looking at him with those blue eyes with something that might be pity.

He is mortal. He is flesh and bone and want and there are gardens he will never enter, keys he will never have the privilege of possessing but he can pull strings, call favors, and arrange everything into the shape of your happiness. He can walk beside you through the fields of never-ending purple and watch as you stand in the place you've dreamed of.

Fushiguro can have the past but Yuta will give you the present and future, offered at your altar with trembling hands and a million prayers for you to accept it. (Let him be Abel—favored by his Lord.)

So, why Furano?

"Nothing in particular," Yuta says, smiling gently. "I just thought it might be nice."

Gojo hums, a sound that suggests he doesn't believe a word of it but he doesn't press for a more honest person. "Alright then. I'll put you both on the mission. Try not to make googly eyes at each other, Yuta-kun."

The teasing lilt in his teacher's voice has Yuta's ears turn pink but he bows politely and exits the office before Gojo-sensei could tease him any further.

The corridor is bathed in sunlight and Yuta thinks of your smile—the rain after a long drought. He'll bring alms to your shrine to keep it coming, to keep your eyes on him longer.

He is mortal. He is flesh and bone and want. He is mortal and mortals want. He wants everything you have to offer. He wants everything you can offer.

Yuta Okkotsu is mortal and he wants you.

The curse takes two hours to exorcise. And in those two hours, Yuta's eyes are always flickering back to you—are you hurt? Do you need his help? Do you need him? It's suffocating (but devotion has never been quiet).

He had to unleash Rika twice because some stupid curse thought it was fun to dangle you by its slimy appendages. Paired with his katana, it didn't take long until those appendages were just writhing masses on the ground.

(No one is worthy of touching a divinity but Yuta is your keeper and he will try his best to be deserving of such role).

"Okkotsu, I'm fine," you laugh and the sound is a siren song, charming the poor sailor Yuta Okkotsu (he'd fall into sea rocks for you).

His hands find your arm, trembling fingers pressing against the gash that flows from your elbow to your wrist. It's warm and it stains his skin—kisses his skin. (A blessing! A blessing! His heart sings. To have a god—your life force painting his palms. He wants to preserve it in amber, in resin.)

"You always say you're fine," he sighs, his reverse cursed technique flowing from his fingertips to kiss the hollow of your gash. The wound knits itself close, flesh becoming whole beneath his touch. A familiar ritual, he thinks. He has healed you so many times—even the smallest cuts don't escape his smothering.

"Because I am always fine." You poke the newly healed skin and then smile. "See? Good as new. You worry too much."

(He worries because you are worthy of worry. What follower would he be if he were not to clean your altar and make sure it's whole, pure? He worries because if something were to happen to you, the earth would stop spinning on its axis.)

Yuta offers a gentle smile. "Someone has to."

Fushiguro's words, spoken with such ease by someone who has a part of your heart he has no way of entering. ("Someone has to. Might as well be me.") Yuta feels the green rear its ugly head but he tucks it away, where it has made home in his heart where it bears witness to his worship (of you).

You're still breathing a little hard when you two make your way where the auxiliary manager is waiting with the car. There's a sheen of sweet glistening your skin like morning dew on marble (and he wants to press his mouth to your temple to taste the salt of your exertion—please, please, please).

"Okkotsu, I'm hungry," you announce, resting your head on your shoulder once you are seated inside. "Think they'll have good food at the airport?"

"Probably," he says. (He doesn't correct the use of his last name. He hoards every syllable, every drop of letters you grace him, a mere devout, even if the stairway to heaven happens increases in steps. Okkotsu, Okkotsu, Okkotsu. But you say it with a smile, and that is enough.)

The auxiliary manager starts the car and the vehicle roars to life. The manager drives away from the exorcism sight. Yuta watches you watch the landscape drift away to the suburbs and then the car makes a turn. And you frown.

"Wait," you say, sitting up as you press your face against the window. "The airport's the other way."

The auxiliary manager says nothing.

"We're not going to the airport," he says. "We're going to Nakafurano."

You turn to look at him and the surprise on your face is surreal. "Nakafurano? You mean—"

And here it is—the offering, the alms, the tithe, all arranged on your altar. (He thinks the sea of lavender and how he wants, no, needs to be the one standing beside you when you finally see them. No one else. Him.)

"Farm Tomita," Yuta confirms and he watches your surprise melt into shock, then wonder, then something radiant and all-consuming that Yuta's lungs collapse and start functioning again.

"No way. You're joking."

"I'm not."

"No but—"You turn to face him, hands on face and he leans into your touch in thanks. "How did you—I never told—Okkotsu, how did you know?"

He cannot tell you the truth. He cannot tell you that he overheard you and Fushiguro, making plans that didn't include him (selfish, greedy heart). He cannot tell you that he had looked through the magazine and had traced your doodles on a page about Farm Tomita. He cannot tell you that the sight of Megumi Fushiguro's name written in your inscription makes him want to carve his own name into your heart, into your bloody, beating heart.

He cannot tell you the whole truth so he shall give half instead. Half confessions are still confessions (he prays you'll forgive him of such sin. He is still a mortal with flesh).

"I saw the magazines in your room," he says instead. "There was a page about Farm Tomita and you had written about wanting to go in the corner so I thought you might want to see it . . ."

"Oh my god, Okkotsu." You laugh and your hands drop to cover your mouth. "This is insane. We're going to Farm Tomita with the lavender fields and the lavender ice cream?"

"Yes." And he can't himself (give the poor, greedy boy a chance) and he sneaks a kiss to your cheek and then eventually tickles you with kisses while you laugh happily. (The auxiliary manager averts their eyes and turns on the partition wall.)

"Megumi was supposed to bring me here after graduation," you say as Yuta rests his head against your neck. "We were going to bring his sister and everything."

The green roars to life and it tightens on his lungs. Fushiguro. It's always fucking Fushiguro. Even now, in this moment that's supposed to be between you and Yuta, the younger boy's name falls from your lips like honey so sweet (Yuta is supposed to be your sweet).

"I'm glad to see it before graduation though. And I'm glad—" You pause and for the first time he's known you, you look almost shy. "—I'm glad it's with you."

The green has been extinguished and his heart beats the tune of your name.

"Yeah?" His voice comes out rough (he needs your lips to cure his thirst).

"Yeah." You press a kiss to his forehead and turn back to the window, smiling. "Don't let it get to your head."

Too late.

Everything you say goes to his head, fills his lungs and floods his veins. He is drowning in you and he wants to reach the bottom and never be saved—air be damned.

The purple stretches in every direction, row after row of lavender swaying gentle in the breeze. The air dances with the scent of it, sweet and calming. Mount Tokachi rises in the distance, a silent witness to the offering of beauty sprawled at its feet. Tourists gasp and take pictures, the children laugh, but Yuta's eyes are trained on you.

You've gone quiet. The kind of quiet that his fingers start to fidget and he wonders if not consulting you beforehand was a mistake. You stand at the edge of the field, your back to him, and your shoulders are trembling.

Yuta calls out your name and he steps closer, panic already climbing up his throat. Did he do something wrong? Did he misread the magazine, the happiness in your voice, everything? "If you don't like it, we can leave. I'm sorry, I should have asked—"

You turn around and there are tears streaming down your face. His heart rips itself out from the inside out and stitches itself again before repeating the cycle.

"No, no, no." He closes the distance between you and his trembling hands cup your face. "What's wrong? We can go, we can leave right now, I'm so sorry, baby—"

You shake your head and through the years, you laugh. It's broken but it's the angels singing a choir.

"You didn't do anything wrong," you manage, voice hiccuping occasionally while Yuta continues to wipe the oncoming tears. "I'm not—I'm happy, Okkotsu. I'm so, so happy."

He stills, thumbs hovering your cheekbones. "Happy?"

You sniffle, nodding and pulling him into a hug, arms winding around his neck and your face pressed into his shoulder. Your tears soak the fabric of his uniform. Yuta's arms come around you instantly, caging you against his chest.

He holds you (like a chalice, a reliquary, like a goddess descending from her home in the heavens to give her devotee a gift and it's a gift he'll tuck away, protecting it with his life). His fingers threading your hair while his other hand presses flat against your spine, counting the bumps of your vertebrae—a prayer, a promise.

When you pull away, he wipes the tears away with his thumb while you laugh that song again and the tears spill over again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

Each repeat is a nail in his coffin, a mark in his skin, a note in the psalm he will sing until his voice gives out. He would die hearing you thank him and he would rise again to earn it once more.

"Anything." A vow, a pledge. "Anything you want, anywhere you want to go—just tell me and I'll take you there."

You stare at him before smiling and press a kiss to the corner of his lips. (It's not on his lips, it's not a declaration but it's a kiss freely given and Yuta feels his knees go weak at the mercy you've bestowed upon him.)

You pull back and wipe your face with your sleeve and you take his hand, fingers slotting between his. Yuta stares at your joined hands, heart beating at such a ridiculous thing when his lips have met your chasm before, but you are holding hands with him.

(His manna from heaven, his burning bush, his water turning to wine.)

You tug him towards the sea of purple and he follows. The lavender swallows you both whole. Rows and rows of the lavender stretch towards the horizon and you walk through them like a deity observing how her devotees have treated the holy land you have blessed them with.

Your free hand reaches out to brush against the blooms and the petals release their fragrance as tribute, tainting the air with something sweet and clean. You tip your head and smile upon the sky, the sunlight painting your face in its warmth.

Yuta wants to die here.

He wants his bones to dissolve into the soil, to sink into earth and let it take root, to stretch towards the heavens and bloom purple. He wants to become the lavender that you brush your fingers against, to feel your touch on his corolla for the rest of eternity. He wants you to cup his bloom in your palms and inhale his scent, giving him a smile that would discard his need for the sun (your smile could rival the hot ball's miracles).

Let him be the flowers, let him the purple you love oh-so-much, let him be the field you have longed for years. Let him be anything, anything at all, as long as he is needed and he is something you reach for.

You let go of his hand and run towards the clusters of violet. The plants bow at your entrance and Yuta wants to kneel at your throne as long as he can gaze up at your divine form. He wants, wants, wants.

(He wants to taste the sweetness on your lips and the cold on your breath. He wants to press you into the nearest row of flowers and shower his worship with a medium that is his mouth until you forget every name that isn't his.

It won't be enough. It will never be enough. He is greedy, starving and he will always, always want more.

After all, he is mortal. He is flesh and bone and want.

After all, he is mortal. He is flesh and bone and yours.)

Lavender seems to be singing your name these days. Or you're the one singing it. Either way, you watch yourself thinking about Farm Tomita way too often these days—the hymns of the sprigs, the fragrance sweetly wafting in the air and the purple that spreads across the field. (Purple, purple, purple.)

Okkotsu is there—the hand on your waist, the lips on your skin, and the voice in your ear. A presence to remind you that memory is not yours alone, but he also has a hold of the reminiscences. He's not the center, you remind yourself. He has never been the center (that's the problem, isn't it? He kneels at his man-made altar and you have no choice but to watch from the clouds as he offers his worship).

Then you think of the lavender, and you think about the knot unraveling in your stomach and the way your shoulders dropped when you were blessed by the sight of the limitless purple. You think about the scent of flowers and how it loosened you a little—no copper tinging your nostrils, just sweet old Lavandula angustifolia. The sun had brought out your laugh and you want to laugh like that again.

You want to feel that way again. You want to feel that way always.

And then, in the dead of night, it hits you—eureka.

You sit up straight in your mattress that your head spins and you have to catch yourself for a moment. The word echoes in your skull like a door opening, a key turning in a lock—eureka, eureka, eureka.

You can't wait for graduation.

You don't have to wait for graduation.

It's terrifying. It's liberating. And it's the closest thing you felt that could measure up to Okkotsu's devotion. You can leave, you can enter Gojo's office and tell him you're finished and he'll listen and he might even expedite the process for you (because he's your father and he's always loved you like his own).

But there is always a first step to every plan.

And your first step is Megumi.

You dash out before you can rethink of your fed, bare feet padding against the cold wooden floor. Your heart is pounding a rhythm (eureka, eureka, eureka) when you reach the third years dorm areas and your fingers tremble as soon as you stop in front of Megumi's door.

You knock once, twice, thrice. But nothing. You knock harder and you hear a groan from inside, followed by a shuffle of footsteps. The door swings open and Megumi stands before you, a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants with his dark hair sticking up in different directions (a true sea urchin, you muse) and his eyes are narrowed with annoyance.

"It's three in the morning," he says flatly. "Someone better be dying."

"Morbid ass. No one's dying."

"Then go back to bed."

"I can't." You push past him and into his room without waiting for an invitation (when have you ever needed one?). It's sparse and neat, per usual, a few books stacked on his desk, uniform hung up for tomorrow, a picture of you, Tsumiki and him on his nightstand. (It's a comfort zone, a close second to your own dorm).

Megumi closes the door and leans against, crossing his arms as he quirkd an eyebrow at your frenzied state. "What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Or maybe I am the ghost." You spin around to face him with a smile that is too wide and too bright for three in the morning. "Megumi, I'm leaving."

His stare remains unreadable. "Leaving?"

"Yes, leaving, like, leaving. Like getting out. Graduating early." And the words stumble out, an explosion and a beginning. "I don't have to wait until March. Hell, I don't have to wait until December. I can be gone before autumn ends and Gojo can help me expedite it because holy shit he's Gojo Satoru and he can do anything—"

"You're serious?"

You pause at Megumi's words before nodding. "Dead serious. I was just, like, trying to sleep when it hit me and I realized I don't have to wait. I've been waiting for graduation like it's some magical door that will open and solve everything and let me but I can just knock on Gojo's door and ask him to do the same."

"Are you going to Hokkaido once you do?"

"Maybe. I don't know." You flop down on his bed, eyes on the ceiling. "Maybe I'll go somewhere else, see where I can find myself really, really belonging. You know, see what's out there before I decide to settle down by myself. What matters is—" You sit up, staring at the sea urchin. "—I'm going. Like I'm actually going."

Megumi studies your face for a long moment and you wonder what he's seeing—hesitation, fear, or a reason to let you stay. (Will he find it? You hope not.)

"Okay," he says after the long silence.

"Okay? That's it?"

"What do you want me to do?" He sighs and sits down next to you. "If I try to convince you to stay, that would never change your stubborn mind. And I told you, I support whatever you decide—if you want to go, go."

"You really want me to go?"

"If I told you to stay, would it work?"

"No."

"There's your answer." He leans forwards, resting his hands on his thighs. "You've always wanted to leave and I'm not going to be the one who holds you back."

You feel your chest tighten (and you don't know why. But his words settle into something warm in your chest. This is your Megumi—he'll look for an exit just for you even if the party is still running.)

"You'll miss me though, right?"

"No. I can finally have some peace and quiet."

"Just admit it." You bump your shoulder with his. "Would it really kill you to say that?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes in exasperation and then his voice turns soft. "I'll miss you."

You can feel your face heat up. "See. Was that so hard?"

"Yes."

You laugh and lean your head against his shoulder, letting his hand find yours, fingers intertwining (muscle memory, you think, muscle memory from doing this a thousand times before). His cursed energy settles onto your shoulders—steady, warm and everything you want to ground you.

"What about Okkotsu-senpai?"

Ah. The other shoe waiting to drop.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Yumeno."

"Fushiguro."

"You know he's going to be devastated, right?"

"I know."

"And you're okay with that?"

The truth is complicated—it's a mess of affection, guilt, selfishness and everything you don't know how to unpack. Yuta Okkotsu loves you like you're the very oxygen in his lungs and letting him drown in you because it feels good to be wanted like that.

(But do you want to be drowned in him?)

"I don't know," you admit. "But I can't stay just because he loves me. That won't be fair to either of us."

Megumi doesn't argue. You really are stubborn. All he offers is a gentle squeeze of your hand and lets the silence speak for him.

"I love you," you say suddenly, turning to face him fully.

(And you do. You love Megumi, heart leaping out for chest to sing your heartbeat to his—such a traitorous thing, but you love Megumi. Like the how the sky loves the clouds and stars, like how the ocean loves the moon, like how—)

"Me too," he says quietly.

(—you love your coffee black at three in the morning on your bed.)

You've barely slept.

Your mind was running in all directions, rehearsing what you were going to say to Gojo, too busy thinking about a life outside of this monstrous world that doesn't seem to out of reach anymore.

You don't knock when you enter Gojo's office. There he sits, devoid of the blindfold and writing over mission reports or whatever it is with a bored look. He must have come back from a mission.

"You're up early," he says, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously when you enter. "That means you want something."

You don't sit down. If you sit down, you'll lose your nerve. If you lose your nerve, you'll want to stay and you don't want to stay, you can't stay.

"I want to leave."

"Like go to the convenience store? Because I could really use some—"

"No. I want to leave, like, graduate early. Drop out or whatever you want to call it. I've been thinking about it for a long time and I don't want to wait until March anymore. I can leave now—open a shop somewhere far north, or south, I can start over, I can be happy."

The silence that follows is loud.

Gojo studies you before a smile spreads across his face. "Your mother had the same look in her eyes whenever she talked about her dreams."

"Did she get to live hers?"

"Some of them." He stands up and rounds the table before he's standing right in front of you. "But you will. I'll make sure of it."

"You'll really help me?"

"Of course. I'll expedite the paperwork, pull some strings, call in some favors, yadda, yadda." His grin turns into the same grin you've always known. "I am Gojo Satoru, after all."

You laugh and shake your head. "Thank you, Gojo-sensei."

"Don't thank me yet." He wrinkles his nose. "Yuta-kun is going to be heartbroken."

"He'll get over it. He has Maki." You smile. "They have each other."

Gojo hums, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You noticed that too, huh?"

"Hard not to. They're kind of obvious."

"And kind of oblivious, but they'll figure it out soon." He pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm proud of you even if it's being selfish. It's the hardest thing a good sorcerer can do."

You bury your face into his chest and your tears soak his clothes. (He's right, he's right—you're selfish and greedy and you want to be loved but you want to choose instead of doing what's expected from you.) When you pull back, Gojo's eyes are suspiciously shiny but he's smiling.

"Okay," he says, clapping his hands together. "Enough emotions. Let's talk about logistics. I'm thinking we can have you officially graduated by the end of the month, like, a week before November. It'll give you enough time to pack your things."

"End of the month?"

"Too soon?"

"No." Your smile could rival the shine in his blue eyes. "It's perfect."

Okkotsu is calm around Maki. His cursed energy never spikes, never explodes outward—it's just vast and wide but never suffocating (unless he wants it to). Okkotsu is calm around Maki. It reminds you of Megumi's cursed energy when the sea urchin is around you, a soft blanket and a cup of black coffee.

Okkotsu is calm around Maki and you like calm (so let Maki have him, you scream. You wonder if it might be some cruel joke or a misreading on fate's part that Yuta's compass was pointing towards you and not Maki.)

The kitchen is warm when you step inside and Okkotsu is there (of course he is). He leans against the counter, Maki beside him, and he laughs—open and easy. The laugh belongs to Maki (he belongs to Maki), she is his anchor, his mainstay (even if he doesn't know about it yet).

You watch them for a moment, unseen and cursed energy sealed tight. Okkotsu is listening earnestly to whatever Maki is saying, eyes soft and crinkled and smiling gently (this Okkotsu is not yours, and when has he ever been?). His cursed energy is an ocean at rest and Maki seems to float in it effortlessly.

He's so oblivious, you muse. Maki's gaze lingers on him for just a second too long, and her voice drops to a softer octave when she speaks to him (she's always softer around him. She's right there, the love of his life, and he can't even see it).

(Maybe that's not fair. Maybe Yuta Okkotsu sees what he exactly wants to see and what he wants to see is you. You don't know why when Maki is right there—steadfast, immovable, always abounding in his presence.

She wouldn't keep him at arm's length, unlike you. She wouldn't make him beg for scraps of attention, unlike you. She'd meet him ocean for ocean, unlike you.

Unlike you, Maki is the perfect balance for Okkotsu's sweetness. Unlike you, she doesn't like her coffee black.)

Maki glances up and spots you. Her eyes flicker with something you don't bother naming (she'll have him soon) before she expresses it into something neutral. "Yumeno," she says, raising a hand in greeting. "You're up early."

Okkotsu turns and his cursed energy spikes, a supernova wrapping around your shoulders, your waist, your throat. Desperate, hungry and so, so eager. His face lights up at the sight of you—the first sunrise after being plunged in darkness for so long.

He says your name, a prayer, a hymn, a litany.

"Okkotsu," you greet, stepping fully into the kitchen and letting your cursed energy free. "Maki. You two are up early."

"I was just looking for instant ramen," Maki says, shrugging. "And Yuta offered to make breakfast."

"Pancakes," Okkotsu adds. "Maki-san said she wanted something sweet."

(Sweet, sweet, sweet. He is so sweet. So unbearably, achingly sweet that it hurts your teeth. So sweet that it makes you wonder why you decided to take a taste.)

"Itadori-kun taught me a few things, he's a much better cook than I am," he continues, a hand sliding to your waist once you take a close look at the stove.

"He burnt the first batch," Maki says bluntly and you laugh (Maki's eyes crinkle when you do).

"I didn't mean to," he insists, resting his head on top of yours. "It's better now, I promise. Have a bite, please?"

"Sure." Why not? This will be the last time you'll let him pull you under his sweetness. This will be the last time you'll be the sun, orbiting around his sea of planets that look to you for sustenance. "I'll eat it."

His cursed energy pulses wth joy. Maki meets your eyes and you can the patience and wanting beneath her green gaze. (She'd be good for him. She is good for him. Okkotsu's quiet after the storm. Everything Okkotsu needs in his life—he's too busy orbiting around you to notice.)

"What are you thinking?" Maki's voice is low enough that Okkotsu doesn't hear.

"About how sweet he is," you say.

"What?"

"Okkotsu. He's sweet."

"I guess that's one way to put it."

"It is."

Maki's eyes linger on you for a while before she nods. "I'll be back. Save me some pancakes, lovebirds." You quirk an eyebrow at her need to depart but don't question. On the other hand, Okkotsu frowns and tries to make her stay but she doesn't budge.

She leaves and it's just you and him now. He sighs and looks at you with a small smile. "Well, I really didn't want Maki-san to leave but I don't mind spending more time with you."

You just kiss him and he melts (like candy on your tongue).

Eventually, the pancakes are plated, fluffy and golden and topped with a drizzle of syrup. Okkotsu takes a small slice of the fluff and holds it out, an eager expression on his face. "Try it," he says. "Tell me if it's okay."

You take a bite. The pancake is soft, sweet and the syrup sticks to your upper lip and it's good, really good and you tell him so.

"Really?" His smile shines at you with its brilliance. "I'm so glad. I was worried about the consistency. Itadori-kun said I should let the batter rest longer but Maki-san said it was fine and I really wasn't sure who to listen—"

"Okkotsu, it's perfect."

His rambling stops, eyes wide and attentive (and hanging to your every word like you're the next coming of a god).

"Really?" So full of hope.

"Really." And hope you shall give.

You take another bite and let the sweetness of the pancake coat the inside of your tongue and every single one of your senses. The syrup clings to your teeth, to your lips, to the roof of your mouth. It's cloying. It's perfect.

It's Yuta Okkotsu in edible form and you consume it with the same reverence he gives you on a daily basis. Okkotsu's barrel of sweetness is endless and wide but there's only so much you can take.

So, you savor your last fill.

The train station is buzzing despite the early hour. You're early, a light bag packed with just essentials. All your other things will be shipped later or donated or left to gather dust inside a cardboard box—a goodbye to a room you'll never sleep in again.

Megumi had offered to accompany you to the station. You had turned him down, you had done your goodbyes to him (and him only) after all, hugging his steady chest and savoring his scent of black coffee while your body racked with sobs. He hadn't cried but his grip on your shoulders just had been a little too firm.

"You'll call?" he'd asked.

"Yes after I get settled."

You'd pulled back and he had closed his eyes when you pressed a kiss against his—

"I love you," you whispered.

"I know, I know."

And that was enough. (It is enough. With Megumi, it will always be enough).

Now, you're on the train and watching the platform, the few stragglers rushing to catch the train lest they be left behind. The train engine hums to life after a few minutes of waiting and you watch the landscape blur from the suburbs to the countryside.

Your phone buzzes. You almost don't answer it—you already know who it is. You've been dreading this call ever since you've stepped on the train but you answer anyway because you owe him that much (because you're a coward but you're not that much of a coward).

"Hello?"

His voice cracks on your first name and the panic is evident in his tone, bleeding and open. "Where are you? I just got off from my mission and I bought you something but you—Fushiguro said you left but no one will tell me—"

"Okkotsu, I—"

"Where are you? Please tell me you're still here, are you at the school? Is this some kind of joke—"

"I'm not at the school."

The silence is filled with the static.

"What?" A whisper. "I—what? What do you mean you're not at the school?"

"I'm leaving."

"Leaving? No, no, baby—"

"I'm graduating early. I'm leaving this world behind. I'm—" You take a deep breath and anchor yourself. "I'm going to be happy, Okkotsu, and I'm going to find it somewhere else."

"But I thought—I—" His voice is wet, the start of the seams starting to be ripped apart. "I thought we were happy. You said—"

"I'm sorry, Okkotsu."

"Sorry?" He laughs, broken and hollow. "You're sorry? That's it? You're just—You're just leaving? You're leaving me?"

"Okkotsu—"

A sob on the other end cuts you off. You've seen him shed tears, seen him get too much into his feelings but you've never heard him cry like this. (Cruel, cruel, you are cruel. But you are also human.) You close your eyes. You can hear the others in the background, you can hear Maki in the background, trying to calm him down, trying to reach him.

But Yuta is inconsolable. His cursed energy is exploding outward again. You can almost feel it from here, the ocean's tsunami waves, desperate and drowning everyone in its midst.

"Where are you?" he asks, voice cracking on every syllable said. "Tell me, please. Please, please, baby, where are you? I'll come to you. Whatever you need, whatever you want. I—"

"Don't." Your voice is soft, a stack of feathers. "Please don't come after me."

His sobs fill the call's static. The sound is a sharp blade and it cuts through you (but you can always patch yourself up on your own). "I love you so much. Please don't leave me. Please. I'll do anything, anything. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it, I'll be it—"

"Okkotsu."

"Please, please, please—"

"You know I can't do that to you."

The countryside is beautiful, a contrast to the ugly happening on your small device. His breathing gets ragged and wet and you can hear the other's worried words in the background trying to calm him down.

"Do you even love me?" Oh, just stab yourself, would you? "Even a little? Or did I just imagine everything?"

"Come on, Okkotsu, you know the answer to that."

You hear a crash on the other end—something breaking, maybe a chair, maybe the wall, maybe his control. Gojo's voice—"Yuta-kun, you need to calm down."

But Okkotsu doesn't calm down. He is drowning and you're on the shore watching him as you cut the oxygen.

"Please," he begs. "Where are you going? Just tell me. I won't come, I promise. I need to know, please, I need to know you're okay, baby, please tell me—"

"I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

"I won't." You feel the pressure behind your eyes starting to build. "Yuta, I have to go now."

"No, no, no, no—!"

"The view is beautiful. I could watch the sunset from here."

"Please, please—"

"I like you a lot." A sharp intake of breath. "I really do. And I wish—" You swallow the incoming tears. "I wish I could love you the way you loved me. I tried but I can't. I'm sorry."

The silence is loud, static filling it once more.

"Maybe in another life," you continue, an olive branch. "Maybe we'd meet in a coffee shop and you'd buy me a drink and we'd have something simple. But not in this life. Not in this one."

"Don't say that," he whispers. "Please don't say that. I—I can't—"

"Please don't look for me."

"Don't—"

"I'm sorry." And you are. You are selfish, you are greedy, you sucked every drop, but you're human and you are so, so sorry. "I really am."

His voice cracks on your name. "I love you—"

"Thank you for being so sweet to me, Yuta."

You end the call.

For a long moment, you just sit there with your phone tightly clutched in your hand, staring at the dark screen and your face staring back at you. Your thumb hovers the power button and you press it down.

You smile and you turn your gaze to the window. The countryside is a blur of green and blue. It's beautiful. You think of lavender fields stretching towards the heavens, the endless purple. You think of the way the flowers had felt against your fingers.

You think of Okkotsu.

He’s sweet, so sweet. Like candy that'll melt on your tongue, the peach juice on a hot summer day, the pollen to a bee. Simple, quick and reliving. He's sweet—so unbearably sweet that it hurts your teeth.

The problem is you've never really had much of a sweet tooth.

thank you for reading!

[mementqs]

pairing: yuta okkotsu x fem! reader

warnings: probably ooc, mentions of illness throughout, descriptions of illness at the start, mainly fluff, confessions, first kisses (i don’t know how to write people kissing), non canon compliant, originally i was going to make this longer and angsty but i lowk couldn’t be bothered (i was hinting something bad would happen at the end and originally was gonna kill you off)

word count: 1.8k+

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At this point, it was more than just fatigue.

It was horrid pangs of pain that spread through your viscera, unnerving and binding you to the warm comfort of your bed. Yet it did not feel like comfort anymore. It felt like a prison, somewhere you wouldn’t want to be at the end of the day. However, at the end of the day, alongside the extensive use of your cursed technique, it was somewhere you had to retreat to.

The second years barely saw you anymore. There was the occasional moment where you would stumble out of your dorm, hands clutching your body, and you’d tremble as you picked up some food or something as simple as a bottle of water.

Your cursed technique could not kill you as it did the curses on the receiving end. Instead, it elongated the illness, the pain, stretched it into elastic bands which covered your soul. Your chest always feels tight now, heavy, like the inside of your body will drag you down into the quicksand and let you drown in your own blood.

The frequent visits from your Sensei felt like relief at first, as if he could actually do something to help. But, over time, it changed. It felt like Gojo was only visiting you as a chore rather than the actual goodness of his heart. You knew he loved his students, but your own brain was turning against him, against yourself.

It takes some time after the exorcism of the special grade curse for you to get back on your feet, but everyone in Jujutsu High welcomes you back with open arms.

And in Yuta’s case, flowers.

“Well, I know you like them, and Maki said that it’d be a nice thing to do for you…” He holds out the bouquet. It’s simplistic, but he remembers that time where you reeled off your favourite things, and the specific type of flower is reflected in the paper and ribbon that holds them all.

“So you’re only doin’ it cause Maki told you to?” Your head tilts, and there’s a cheesy grin on your face, clearly teasing him.

“What?! No!” He splutters, cheeks turning a dusty pink as he pulls in the bouquet once more, clutching it close to his chest. “I’m doing it because I wanted to!” His fingers grip into the bottom of the bouquet, fingers intertwining with the stems. His palms are clammy, clearly signifying that you’ve just thrown him into a nervous wreck.

“Relax, Yuta.” You put your hands up in surrender, before reaching forward to grab the gift from his hands. “I love them.” You pause your words for a minute as you bury your nose into the sweet buds, petals spilling over your face. “…Even if it was Maki’s idea.”

Before you can face the consequences of your teasing, you turn with a spring in your step, huge smile on your face.

Yuta has always been worried about you. In a way, it affects him with the same amount of mental turpitude that it does you. He remembers when you were so full of energy, so eager to accommodate him and the curse bound to him when he first entered Jujutsu High. You stuck by his side, told him you knew what it felt like to feel isolated with such great power, and eventually became friends with him.

You vowed to protect him if he ever needed it, and he did the same.

After all, that’s what friends were for, right?

He watches you as you greet your other friends, wrapping your arm around them, being careful not to crush the delicate flowers in your other hand.

“We should go out for dinner, y’know? All of us! It’s been a while since we’ve gone out as friends rather than allies in combat.” The smile doesn’t move from your face as you say it, but inside, Yuta knows you’re hurting. That you’ll keep hurting until your cursed technique finally vanishes. Or until you decide to give up on it. Permanently. “Hey, I bet I could steal Sensei’s card.”

The suggestion causes Maki to laugh half-heartedly, slapping a hand down onto your shoulder. “Hey. Stop getting ahead of yourself. One step at a time, right?”

It’s around noon when you pull Yuta away from the confines of his dorm and into the city. It’s a long trek, but nothing that bothers you two. Your legs aren’t sore in the slightest, but there’s a small amount of sweat clustered near the top of your forehead. Yuta has a similar look, sweat dripping down the side of his face.

It probably didn’t help that you dragged him everywhere at high speed. Which is saying a lot, considering he’s a fast walker anyway.

“So…” You hum out, turning around to face him. The sun beams against your face, casting a small shadow on the other side. “Okay. I was thinking we could start with food, cause it’s already quite late. And then…” You tap a finger against your chin. “Well, the arcade’s always a good shout! If you wanna do something different though, that’s fine too.”

“Huh? No! I’m happy with your idea.” When you’re well, you always have an outing with Yuta on the first day, and he lets you pick what you’re going to do. If he could do more, he would, but he doesn’t want to seem too over the top.

You pout slightly, eyes fixed on him. “You don’t have to do my idea every time, Yuta. Come on! You’re allowed your own opinion too.”

“Fine. I guess…” He looks down to the floor, pushes his fingers against each other. “There’s an aquarium nearby. Kind of. I’ve wanted to go for a while but… not with any of the other second years. With you. But if that’s not your thing—“

“What did I just say?!” You quickly interrupt, taking one of his fidgeting hands into your own, beginning to march forward. “Let’s go to that aquarium!”

He almost yelps as you begin to drag him forward again, but his face relaxes slightly when you both get walking, hands intertwined. He almost forgot how soft yours were. It’s not that his aren’t soft, they are in some parts, but yours always feel smooth, no matter what you go through.

“Uh, I don’t actually know where we’re going.” You interrupt his thought process. Again. “You should probably lead the way.”

He hurriedly moves in front of you, guiding you towards the aquarium he had wanted to go with you to for weeks. He had scrolled through the website for hours, planning the ideal ‘first’ date, the first time where he would finally admit to his romantic feelings towards you.

But… at the same time… does he really want to ruin that smile on your face by confessing his love to you?

“I don’t really know a lot about fish.” You hum to yourself as the doors slide open in front of you, welcoming you into what would be a great location for you and Yuta to spend your time together.

“At least there’ll be signs that tell you, then!” He smiles widely, quickly paying for two tickets and handing you one. The entrance desk is only a few meters away, but you take a minute to look down at the turtle that had been printed with the ticket. It covers the entirety of the slip of paper, a neutral expression on its face. As soon as you get to the desk, you know it’ll be ruined by a thick stamp that runs across the top.

Even the smallest nice things didn’t last long, did they?

You and Yuta spend some time staring at the fish, glancing down at the information leaflets, walking around with no real purpose but to spend time together.

“Hey.” Yuta seems different, now, his face flustered and fingers pushing against each other, something he has made a habit out of. You tear your gaze away from the beautiful jellyfish that hovers in the background of your conversation, soft green light illuminating your silhouette.

“What’s up?” A smile covers your face. He wishes he could keep it like that, save you from having to feel ill or upset ever again. But he can’t, and it’s killing him from the inside out.

“Look, I…” His eyes avert to the ground, sweat crawling down his forehead and the side of his face. “I’ve waited for a while now. Y’know, for the right time. And every time seems wrong, so…”

How is he meant to put his feelings into words? He could list off everything he liked about you, but he’d be here for hours, and if it went wrong, then it would be awkward for the both of you.

“I guess… what I’m trying to say…”

“Yuta.” You firmly say his name, wanting him to stop muttering and trying to figure out how he wanted to word it. You already knew what he was going to say. You could sense it in his actions, his facial expressions, everything about him. “Me too.”

The nervous expression on his face slowly develops into a smile, and he shuffles closer to you, lifts one of his hands up.

“Uh- can I…?” You don’t allow him to finish his question, as usual, grabbing the back of his neck and planting your lips onto his. You’re not rough about it, but you’re not timid, either. You’re trying to convey your feelings in a way that he can easily understand, and the main emotion within the kiss is passion.

He gladly reciprocates.

And it’s wonderful.

The moment is wonderful, how his body slowly intertwines itself with your own, hand pushing through your hair. He’s gained only a small bit of confidence with his confession (or, well, his half-confession), but it seems like a weight has been lifted off of his chest almost instantly.

The rest of the trip goes well. You’re closer than you were before, right up until the end, where you both get a hot drink from the aquarium’s cafe so you have some energy to walk back to Jujutsu High.

“I’m glad you picked where we went today.” Darkness covers the sky, few streetlights lit to show you the way. It’s eerie, in a way that neither of you like. “It was nice. We should do it again.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles, nerves hidden underneath fidgeting hands, but no longer outwardly displayed on his facial features. It seems he’s finally calmed down. But he can still feel the way your lips pushed against his, the ghost of the shape lingering against his own. He can still feel your breath entangled with his, and he resists the urge to connect his lips against yours once more.

He’s happy. You’re happy.

But in Jujutsu society, no happiness can ever last for long, can it?

[belchyra]

Two more megumi requests....

[belchyra]

Hi! Yuuji fic here

Yuuji taglist: @sirencholia @gardenofwhom @yushirocarry @stqrgumi @iluvttsnmlfs @malaccah @linizz @fizzywashere87 @lillian-morningstar @allroadstobeatopia

[belchyra]

Hii if you're still taking new requests can I request a angst/fluff fic with Yuji and a reader who's insecure about their stomach/thighs in summer since they can't wear concealing clothes anymore? Love your worksss (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

Summer skin

[ TAGS ] — gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, body insecurity, insecure reader, summer, summer festival, soft Yuji Itadori, Yuji Itadori is a sweetheart, emotional vulnerability, hugs, comfort, reassurance, established friendship, pre-relationship, reader has a hard time accepting compliments, reader is loved. w.c: 3.5k

[ A/N ] — first of all, thank you to the anon who requested this one! i found it super relatable while writing it—i've definitely been the hoodie-in-summer person (still am tbh) and all of that. but honestly, we shouldn't have to think about ourselves like this, you know? it's exhausting and it's not fair, and i hope anyone reading this gets a little closer to letting it go. we deserve better than spending whole summers feeling uncomfortable in our own bodies. thanks for reading!

if you liked this, consider joining my taglist!

You've been staring at your closet for fifteen minutes. The same three tops and two pairs of shorts sit in a miserable little pile on your bed, and every single one of them feels terrible. You have exactly forty minutes before you're supposed to meet Yuji at the station.

Summer used to be easier. Last August, when everyone else was in tank tops and sundresses, you lived in an oversized black hoodie and high-waisted jeans so baggy they could've belonged to someone twice your size. You told people you were just sensitive to the sun, or that you ran cold, or that you'd forgotten to do laundry—any excuse to keep the fabric between you and the world. At the beach, you were the one who "forgot" her swimsuit and sat fully clothed on the towel, offering to watch everyone's stuff. At summer festivals, you volunteered to carry the group's jackets even when it was thirty degrees. You learned to sit with a cushion or a bag on your lap, to angle yourself away from windows, to never, ever let anyone take a photo of you from the side.

But this summer is different. This summer, Yuji Itadori somehow crashed through every carefully constructed wall you'd built and decided you were his person. Not in a dramatic confession way—just in the way he started waiting for you after class, saving you a seat, texting you good morning with a ridiculous amount of emojis. And now he wants to spend the day with you. Outside. In the actual sun. Where there is no air conditioning and absolutely no hoodies.

You settle on the outfit that makes you feel the least like crawling out of your own skin: a loose-ish tank top and a pair of cotton shorts that stop mid-thigh. In the mirror, all you can see is the soft curve of your stomach where the fabric drapes and the way your thighs touch and spread when you stand. You pull at the hem of the shorts, tug the tank top down, then immediately hate how that makes the neckline sit. You grab a light button-up shirt to wear over it, something you can keep open but still hide behind. It'll have to do.

By the time you reach the station, your heart is hammering, and not from the heat. Yuji spots you immediately—of course he does—and jogs over with that stupid, brilliant grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Hey! You made it!" He stops a step away and looks at you, and for a split second his expression does something you can't quite read. Then he says, "Whoa, you look really nice. That color's awesome on you."

You force a smile and cross your arms loosely over your middle, the button-up hanging open like a safety net. "Thanks. It's just an old top."

"Still counts." He falls into step beside you, apparently oblivious to the way you're already scanning the street for reflective surfaces. "Man, it's so hot today. But I figured we could still hit that festival by the river. They've got shaved ice and everything."

"Sounds good." You keep your arms crossed as you walk, hyperaware of the way your thighs brush together with every step. The shorts have ridden up a little. You want to fix them, but you don't want to draw attention to the area. So you just walk a little stiffly and hope he doesn't notice.

He notices.

Yuji might not be the most observant person in the world when it comes to, like, algebra or remembering to charge his phone, but when it comes to you, he pays attention. He doesn't say anything at first—just glances at you while you're not looking, a small crease forming between his brows.

The festival is crowded, a cheerful chaos of food stalls and lanterns and kids running with goldfish bags. Normally you'd be enjoying it. Right now, you're cataloguing every possible place where someone might see you from an unflattering angle. You choose a spot in the shade when you stop to look at a mask stall, positioning yourself so a wooden pillar half-hides your body. Yuji doesn't comment. He just buys you a silly fox mask and makes you put it on, which is a relief because now at least your face is covered.

"You're quiet today," he says lightly as you walk toward the food stalls. "Tired, or just not feeling it?"

"No, I'm good." You adjust the mask on your head, letting it sit crookedly in your hair. "Just a lot of people. It's kind of overwhelming."

He nods, easily accepting that. "Yeah, it's nuts. Want to find somewhere less crowded later? There's that grassy hill behind the shrine—usually pretty empty."

"Maybe," you say, and you don't commit to anything.

He buys shaved ice—strawberry for you, melon for him—and gestures toward a bench. It's in the open, no table to hide behind, no pillar. You hesitate just a moment too long.

"We can eat standing up if you want," Yuji offers, already changing course. "I kind of want to watch the goldfish scooping anyway."

You feel a rush of gratitude. He doesn't make a thing of it. He just wanders over to the goldfish game and leans against the railing, and you stand beside him, and you eat your shaved ice with one arm still loosely crossed over your stomach.

A breeze picks up, lifting the hem of your button-up, and you grab it so fast the cup nearly slips from your other hand. The motion is quick, almost panicked. Yuji's eyes flick to you.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just—brain freeze." You gesture vaguely at the shaved ice. "Ate it too fast."

He doesn't look convinced, but he lets it go. "I do that every single time. You'd think I'd learn."

The afternoon unspools slowly. You check out a ring toss, a shooting gallery, a stall selling handmade charms. Every time you pass a window or a polished metal surface, your eyes snag on your own reflection and your stomach tightens. You angle away from Yuji's phone when he pulls it out to take a photo of a mascot character, ducking slightly behind his shoulder.

"C'mere, get in the picture," he says, tilting the phone.

"No, I'm good. I'm not really photogenic today."

"You're photogenic every day." He says it so plainly, like he's genuinely confused by your objection. But he doesn't push. He snaps the picture without you and slides his phone back into his pocket.

By late afternoon, your energy is fraying at the edges. Not from walking—from the constant, grinding effort of holding yourself. You've been tugging at your shorts every few minutes. You've kept the button-up carefully draped over your lap every time you sat down. You've avoided three different benches and one set of open stairs because they would've put you in direct line of sight from too many angles. The mental math is exhausting, and Yuji has definitely noticed something, because his usual rambling has quieted into something more careful, more watchful.

You're sitting on a low wall near the river, catching your breath, when he sits down next to you. Not too close—he's always careful about that, you've realized. He never crowds you. But close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him.

"You don't have to tell me what's going on," he says quietly. "But I just want you to know, I can tell something's bothering you. And whatever it is, I'm on your side, okay? Like, one hundred percent."

You don't answer right away. Your throat feels tight, and the words are there, a whole tangled mess of them, but every time you try to grab one it slips away. You pull your legs up onto the wall and wrap your arms around them, making yourself small. An old habit. You don't even realize you're doing it until you feel the pressure of your thighs against your stomach, your knees tucked up like a barrier.

Yuji doesn't fill the silence. He just sits there, solid and patient, waiting.

"It's—" you start, then stop. Your voice comes out rough, quieter than you meant it to. You clear your throat and try again. "I don't really know how to… ugh." You drop your forehead against your knees for a second, frustrated with yourself. "It's so stupid. It's not even a big deal."

"It doesn't have to be a big deal for it to matter," Yuji says. "You can just say it however it comes out. I'm not grading you."

A shaky breath escapes you, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. You lift your head but you don't look at him. You look at the river, at the way the late afternoon light breaks into little gold shards on the water.

"It's just… summer stuff," you manage. "I'm not good at summer. I hate how I look in these clothes. I feel like… like everyone can see everything, and it's—I don't know."

Your fingers are curled tight around your shins.

"Summer's always sucked for me," you say finally. Your voice is flat, like you're just stating a fact, but it trembles at the edges. "I used to wear hoodies when it was, like, thirty degrees out. Big ones. Ones that covered everything. I'd be sweating my ass off and people would ask if I was okay and I'd just... make something up. 'Oh, I'm cold.' 'Oh, I burn easy.' Whatever. Anything so I didn't have to take it off."

You pause. Yuji doesn't interrupt. You can feel his gaze on the side of your face but you keep staring at the water.

"I had all these tricks," you continue, quieter now. "At the pool, I'd 'forget' my swimsuit. Every time. I'd just sit there in my jeans on the edge with my feet in the water and tell everyone I didn't feel like swimming. At parties, I'd find a corner and put a cushion on my lap so no one could see my thighs. I'd angle myself away from every window, every mirror. I'd volunteer to take photos so I'd never have to be in them."

Your voice cracks on the last word. You swallow hard, pressing your lips together for a second before you can keep going.

"And today I couldn't do any of that. I tried—I kept the button-up, I kept crossing my arms, but it's not the same. It's not enough. I just feel like everyone's staring at me. At my stomach and my thighs and everything I've been trying to hide for years. And I know it's all in my head, I know nobody actually cares, but I can't—" Your breath hitches. "I can't make it stop."

Silence. The river keeps moving. A bird shirps somewhere behind you. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat.

Then Yuji shifts beside you, turning his whole body so he's facing you properly. One leg comes up onto the wall, bent at the knee, and his arm rests across it. When you finally force yourself to glance at him, his face isn't full of pity or awkwardness or any of the things you were afraid of.

"Okay," he says. "First of all, it's not stupid. You've been dealing with this all day, probably for way longer than today, and it's been eating at you the whole time. That's not stupid. That's just something hard you've been carrying around. And I'm really glad you told me."

You open your mouth to argue, to downplay it, but he shakes his head.

"Nope, let me finish. I have things to say." He holds up a hand, ticking points off on his fingers. "One. You're beautiful. I'm not saying that to be nice, I'm saying it because I have eyes and I use them. I've thought you were beautiful since the first time I met you. Your face, your smile, your whole vibe—everything. And today, in that outfit?" He gestures at you, his expression so earnest it nearly hurts. "You look really, really good. Like, I kept getting distracted earlier. It was kind of a problem."

You feel your face go hot. "Yuji—"

"Two," he continues, persistent. "Your body is not something you need to hide. Not from me, not from anyone. I know me saying that doesn't magically fix everything, I get that. But I need you to hear it. Your stomach? Your thighs? Those are just parts of you. They're not problems. They're not things I'm tolerating or ignoring. I like them. I like all of you. And I'm not just talking about, like, romantically or whatever—I mean as a person who exists in the world, you deserve to take up space and wear whatever you want and not feel like you have to apologize for your own body."

Your eyes are burning. You blink rapidly, but it doesn't help. A tear slips down your cheek anyway, hot and embarrassing. You swipe at it with the back of your hand.

"Three," Yuji says, softer now, "I've noticed you doing all that stuff today. The arm-crossing, the shirt-fixing, the way you kept stepping behind things. And every time, I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to do that around me. You don't have to do any of it. I'm not looking at you and thinking whatever you're scared I'm thinking. I'm looking at you and thinking, 'There's my favorite person. They showed up even though they were nervous. They wore something they weren't sure about because they're trying. That's really brave.'"

A wet, broken sound escapes you—not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. You press your hand over your mouth.

"Can I hug you?" Yuji asks. "Is that okay?"

You nod, not trusting your voice, and then his arms are around you. He doesn't hesitate, doesn't do that awkward hover thing where someone's not sure where to put their hands. He just pulls you in, firm and warm, one hand on your back and the other cradling the back of your head. You press your face into his shoulder and breathe in the smell of his t-shirt—cotton, a little bit of sweat, something faintly like the melon shaved ice from earlier. He's so solid. So steady.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your hair. "You don't have to hide with me. Ever. I mean it. Sweatshirt, tank top, whatever—I'm just happy you're here. And I'm gonna keep telling you that until you believe it. If it takes a hundred times, fine. A thousand times. I've got stamina."

You laugh, finally, the sound muffled against his shoulder. "That's such a dumb thing to brag about."

"It's true, though. I can do this all day." His arms tighten around you slightly, just for a second. "I'm really proud of you, you know. For coming out today. For talking to me. I know that wasn't easy."

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes still wet, your nose probably red and gross. He doesn't flinch. He just looks at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen, and you don't know what to do with that, so you just sit there and let yourself be looked at.

"Thank you," you manage. Your voice is wrecked but steadier than before. "For... all of that. For not making it weird."

"It's not weird." He says it simply, with a small shrug. "I'm just glad you told me. Honestly, I've been wanting to say something all day but I didn't know how to bring it up without making you uncomfortable. So I'm glad you did it first."

You huff a quiet laugh, wiping at your eyes with the heel of your palm. "You? Not knowing what to say? That's new."

"Hey, I have my moments." He grins, but it's softer than before, his eyes still holding that same steady warmth. "I'm serious, though. Whenever this stuff gets loud in your head again—because I know it probably will, that's how it works—you can always talk to me. Even if it's the same thing a hundred times. I don't care. I'll listen."

You don't know what to say to that. The lump in your throat is back, but it's different this time—less like choking and more like something loosening. You just nod, and he seems to understand.

He glances over his shoulder toward the festival lights, then back at you. "Hey. You hungry?"

"A little," you admit.

"Good. I saw a takoyaki stand back there, and I think we've earned at least three servings as a treat." He stands up and offers you his hand.

You take it. His palm is warm and a little rough, and he pulls you up easily. When you're standing, he doesn't let go right away. Just holds your hand like it's the most natural thing in the world, his thumb brushing once across your knuckles before he releases it.

You start walking toward the stalls, and you don't fix your shirt when it slips off your shoulder. You don't tug down your shorts when they ride up a little. You don't cross your arms over your stomach. You just walk beside Yuji, the lantern light spilling gold across the path, your body feeling a little less like an enemy and a little more like yours.

© belchyra. All rights reserved. Do not republish, translate, steal, or feed my work to AI.

[gummivee]

If I think about Yuta too much I will cry and I love that every Yuta fan is like this. thanks yall I feel so connected to the insanity