Hira!!ᰔᩚ

𝓢𝓱𝓮/𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 || 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓖𝔂𝓪𝓻𝓾 𝓰𝓪𝓵 || 𝓯𝓪𝓷𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻

[h1r4-n7rr]

ೀ⋆ ring - ring ! hello ? ✧ ˚.

… 𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 …

Link to my intro

Link to my masterlist

[sparkleshakes]

I’M TIRED OF SMUT, I WANT TOOTH ACHING FLUFF AND HEART SHATTERING ANGST.

[kingcatnine]

my f/o cheated on me with some bitch named y/n

[h1r4-n7rr]

ᴡʜᴜᴍᴘᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ 2 || ʏᴜᴊɪ ɪᴛᴀᴅᴏʀɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ #2: "ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏғ ɴᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ғᴇᴀʀs."

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀs ɴᴏᴛᴇ: sʜʜʜ ɪᴋ ɪ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴅᴀʏ 1 ɢᴜʏs sʏʙᴀᴜ🥹💔

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅs

Chapter 1: The Prophecy

The words had haunted you since the night they’d been spoken.

A prophecy isn’t supposed to feel personal. It should be cryptic, tangled in riddles, something you can shrug off until the day it suddenly makes sense. But this one—this one felt like it had your name etched into the lines.

“The one who loves him most will be the one to end him.”

You had laughed at first, because what else could you do? The old woman who had muttered it in the marketplace had been nothing more than a wandering seer, her voice croaking through the layers of incense smoke. But then her hand had clamped down on your wrist, and her eyes—white and unfocused—had burned with a clarity that made your chest seize.

“The one who loves him most will be the one to end him.”

And there was only one “him” she could mean.

Yuji Itadori.

The boy who smiled too easily, who fought with a ferocity that left scars across his soul, who carried a monster inside his body with a strength that terrified even the elders. The boy who had found his way past every wall you’d built around your heart.

And you loved him.

That was the problem.

That was the curse.

Now, sitting in the half-dark of the Jujutsu Tech dormitory common room, your knees pulled against your chest, you can’t shake the echo of it. You’d tried ignoring it, burying it beneath training, beneath laughter with Nobara and Megumi, beneath the fleeting warmth of Yuji’s hand brushing yours when he thought no one was watching. But it never left.

Every time you looked at him, every time he grinned at you like you were the only steady thing in his collapsing world, you remembered: You could be the one to destroy him.

And you didn’t know if that made you want to scream or sob.

Tonight, it gnaws at you worse than ever. Yuji hasn’t come back from his mission. Nobara and Megumi returned hours ago, bloodied but breathing, and when you’d asked, your stomach had dropped at their exchanged look.

“He stayed behind,” Megumi had muttered, not meeting your eyes. “Something about holding the curse back until backup arrived.”

“Don’t worry,” Nobara had said, a little too quickly. “He always makes it out.”

But you knew better. Prophecies weren’t safe. They were knives hidden in soft words.

And maybe tonight was the night the blade finally slipped between your ribs.

Chapter 2: The Sewer

When the call finally comes in, it’s worse than you imagined.

A swarm of grade-2 curses had flooded an underground sewer system, festering around the bloated husk of something worse, something festering with Sukuna’s interest.

Yuji was still down there.

You didn’t think. You just ran.

The sewers reek of rot when you push through the entrance, the dim fluorescent lights flickering against damp concrete. Water sloshes at your boots, brown and slick, and the air is thick enough with curse residue that your skin prickles.

“Yuji?” Your voice echoes, weak against the cavernous tunnel.

A scuffle breaks out deeper in the dark. The sound of fists hitting flesh. A curse howling.

You sprint.

When you find him, he’s already on his knees. Blood smears across his jaw, his knuckles are split, and his chest heaves like he’s dragging in fire instead of air. A monstrous curse writhes before him, its grotesque limbs snapping bone against stone.

And Yuji is smiling.

Because of course he is. Because he always does.

“You—” He coughs, spits red into the water. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re bleeding out.” Your throat is tight, your cursed energy flaring wildly as you take stance beside him.

His hand darts out, catching your wrist before you can charge forward. His grip is weak, trembling, but his eyes are molten with that same impossible kindness.

“I said—don’t.”

The curse lunges. Together, you fight. Your blade slices through its tendons, Yuji’s fists cracking bone, his body a blur of motion even half-broken. You move like you’ve always moved with him—synchronized, instinctive, tethered by trust.

But the curse doesn’t fall. It multiplies, festering, a hydra splitting limb from limb, and the prophecy is whispering in your skull.

The one who loves him most will be the one to end him.

And for one dizzying second, you wonder if this is it. If this sewer, this reeking grave, will be where it comes true.

Chapter 3: Dredging Fears

By the time you collapse the curse in on itself, shredding it into cursed dust that clings to your hair and skin, Yuji can barely stand. He leans against the wall, chest heaving, his blood turning the water pink.

You drop your weapon and lunge toward him. “You need to get out. You need Shoko—”

His hand catches yours again. This time it’s desperate.

“No.”

You freeze.

His gaze burns into yours, raw and unguarded. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Your pulse stutters. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His voice cracks, more from exhaustion than anger. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. Won’t look at me half the time, keep making excuses to leave. And now you’re here, throwing yourself into this mess like—like you don’t care if you make it out.”

Your throat closes. He sees too much. He always has.

“I can’t—” Your voice fractures. “Yuji, please, not now.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he spits, sudden fire lacing his words, “to dredge up all my fears and then not explain a damn thing.”

The air feels too thin. The prophecy pounds against your skull like a war drum.

“I’ll kill you.” The words rip from your lips before you can stop them. They hang between you, jagged and cruel. “That’s what’s wrong, Yuji. I’m the one who’s going to end you.”

His eyes widen.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Yuji Itadori looks afraid of you.

Chapter 4: Breaking Point

The silence between you splinters into shards.

Yuji stares, his fists clenching and unclenching, his breathing shallow. “What are you talking about?”

You can’t hold his gaze. You look at the filthy water instead, at the blood swirling in eddies, at your trembling hands.

“There was a prophecy,” you whisper. “Some old seer. She said—the one who loves you most will be the one to end you.”

Yuji’s breath catches.

“And I love you, Yuji.” The confession tastes like ash. “So it has to be me. Someday. Somehow. It’s going to be me.”

You expect him to laugh it off, to call you stupid for listening to omens and old women in markets. You want him to.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he bows his head, his blood dripping steadily into the water. And he looks tired—bone-deep, soul-deep tired.

“Maybe that’s the point.” His voice is barely audible. “Maybe that’s what I deserve.”

Your stomach lurches. “Don’t say that.”

“You don’t get it.” He finally looks up, eyes hollow. “Everyone wants me dead. For Sukuna. For what I’ve done. If it has to be someone…” He swallows hard. “Better you than anyone else.”

It shatters you.

“Stop it,” you choke, gripping his shirt. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare make peace with dying like it’s—like it’s the only thing you’re good for.”

His hands tremble against yours. “Then tell me it won’t happen.”

You can’t. The words won’t come.

And that’s when you realize the prophecy has already won.

Chapter 5: Taking Accountability

Dragging Yuji out of the sewer is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Not because of his injuries—though his body feels like lead against yours, his steps faltering—but because of the silence.

The words you both left unsaid hang heavier than the stench of rot.

When Shoko finally takes him into her care, when Nobara and Megumi demand answers, you can’t speak. You sit outside the infirmary door, your body hollow, your mind replaying the look in his eyes when you told him the truth.

Fear.

Resignation.

And something else, something worse—relief.

It’s only when the door creaks open that you realize hours have passed. Yuji steps out, bandaged and pale, but alive. His eyes find yours instantly.

You stand too quickly. “Yuji, I—”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I need to say this first.”

His voice is steady, but his hands flex at his sides. “I don’t care about prophecies. I don’t care what some stranger says about my future. What I care about is right now. You. Us.”

Your chest aches.

“But if you really believe it,” he continues, “then don’t run from me. Don’t avoid me. Don’t carry it alone just because you’re scared. Take accountability.” His gaze pierces yours. “Face it with me.”

Tears blur your vision.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

“Then don’t.”

And for the first time since the prophecy was spoken, you let yourself hope that maybe—just maybe—you could change it.

[h1r4-n7rr]

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ/ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ!! (so far)

ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀs ɪ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏsᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛsᴜ ᴋᴀɪsᴇɴ

Yuji Itadori-drunk ex boyfriend

Yuji Itadori-you’ve got a lot of nerve to dredge up all my fears

Megumi Fushiguro-one bed trope P1

Megumi Fushiguro-one bed trope P2

Megumi Fushiguro-the quiet in between the storm

Megumi Fushiguro-enemies to lovers

ᴡʜᴜᴍᴘᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛs 2025

Day 2

[h1r4-n7rr]

"ɪғ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ʟᴏᴠᴇ..."

ʀɪɴ ɪᴛᴏsʜɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.2ᴋ

The first time you realized Rin Itoshi loved differently, you were lying beside him in the silence of his apartment. The air was thick with the faint smell of his shampoo and the bitterness of unspoken words. His body was close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, but his gaze was fixed on the ceiling like you weren’t there at all.

That was Rin—it was always Rin. He made you feel like you were too close and never close enough at the same time.

“Are you staying tonight?” you asked softly, your fingers curling against the bedsheet as though it could anchor you.

He didn’t turn to face you. “I don’t know.”

Three words, delivered with the same flat tone he used when talking to teammates, coaches, strangers. You wanted to believe he kept a different voice, a different softness, reserved just for you. But moments like this reminded you that Rin’s heart was as sharp as his game—precision and control, never indulgence.

You turned your head toward him, searching his profile. His jaw was tight, lips pressed in a line, eyes still on the ceiling. A hundred thoughts swirled behind that expression, but he’d never hand them over. Not to you. Not to anyone.

“Rin…” you whispered, and it came out more desperate than you meant.

That caught him. His eyes slid toward you, sharp and unreadable. He studied you like a puzzle he was already tired of solving.

“What?”

The word was a blade, not a question.

You swallowed, throat tight. “I just… want to know if you want me here.”

His silence lasted too long, and you hated how your chest clenched with each second. Finally, Rin sighed and rolled onto his side, facing you fully. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering against your cheek.

“Don’t be stupid,” he muttered, so quietly you almost missed it.

But his touch—light, almost reluctant—sent a warmth through you that contradicted his words. That was the dangerous part about Rin. His affection didn’t come wrapped in sweet reassurances or grand gestures. It was in the fleeting brush of his hand, the rare flicker of softness in his eyes, the way he let you stay when he could’ve easily pushed you away.

You smiled weakly, though your chest still ached. “That’s not an answer.”

He smirked, but it wasn’t kind. “If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be.”

That was Rin’s version of love. Harsh, clipped, a statement that could just as easily be a warning as it was comfort. And you clung to it anyway, because sometimes it was all he gave you.

The silence returned, heavier this time. You turned onto your back, staring at the ceiling with him. The thought crept in uninvited: Is this enough?

But before the doubt could take root, you felt his hand slip under the blanket, fingers intertwining with yours. He didn’t look at you. He didn’t say a word. But he held your hand like letting go would break something he couldn’t admit mattered.

You squeezed back, too tightly. Too desperately.

Days with Rin blurred together. You learned to measure the state of your relationship not in words but in fragments of affection. A kiss when he thought you were too tired to notice. His arm pulling you close after an argument, only to push you away in the morning.

And then there were the darker moments.

“Why do you always need more?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the small living room where the fight had spilled out.

You stood frozen, his phone clutched in your hand, your heart pounding against your ribs. You hadn’t meant to look. You hadn’t meant to scroll. But curiosity and insecurity had twisted together, and suddenly you were staring at messages from girls you didn’t know—short, harmless things, maybe, but enough to make your stomach drop.

“I don’t need more,” you said, though your voice cracked. “I just need to know I matter to you.”

His eyes narrowed, blue-green irises like ice under storm clouds. “You’re in my apartment. You’re in my bed. Isn’t that enough proof?”

“It doesn’t feel like it sometimes!” The words tore out before you could stop them. “You don’t tell me anything, Rin. You don’t let me in. I feel like I’m begging for scraps, and I—”

“Then leave.”

The two words hit you harder than any scream could have. His expression didn’t waver, his tone didn’t rise. He said it like he meant it, like he’d already detached himself from the possibility of you walking out.

Your chest heaved, your throat closed, tears stung your eyes. You wanted to throw the phone at him. You wanted to scream until he finally broke. But instead, you whispered, “Is that what you want?”

Something flickered in his gaze then—quick, fleeting, gone before you could pin it down. He stepped closer, towering over you, his hand reaching to take the phone from your grasp. His touch lingered as he pried it free, fingers brushing yours almost tenderly.

“No,” he said finally, softer this time.

It was the closest you’d ever get to a confession.

You wanted to hate him for it. You wanted to hate yourself more, for the way your chest loosened at that single word.

That night, Rin kissed you differently.

It wasn’t rushed or rough. It wasn’t careless. His lips moved slowly against yours, almost hesitant, like he was afraid of what he might feel if he let himself go further. His hands held your face, his body pressed you against the wall, but there was no urgency—only a rawness that left you trembling.

When his mouth trailed to your neck, his breath hot against your skin, you realized this was his apology. He didn’t say the words, but he never did. Rin spoke through touches, and you had taught yourself to translate them into something like love.

“Rin…” you whispered, your hands clutching at his shirt.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling heavily. For a second, you thought he might finally say what you needed.

Instead, he pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closing.

“Stop doubting me,” he murmured, and it was both a plea and a command.

Your heart twisted, but you nodded. Because in that moment, with his lips brushing yours and his hands trembling against your skin, you couldn’t say no. Even if you knew the doubt would come back tomorrow.

The cycle only deepened. Rin’s affection came in bursts, wild and consuming, and then disappeared like it had never been there at all.

One evening you were stretched across his bed, scrolling your phone, when he walked in from training. His hair was damp, clinging to his forehead, his muscles taut beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. His eyes flicked to you briefly before he muttered, “You’re still here.”

“Where else would I be?” you shot back, pretending not to hear the edge in his tone.

He smirked, stripping off his shirt. The smirk turned sharp when he caught you staring.

“Like what you see?”

You rolled your eyes, heat rising in your cheeks. “Arrogant.”

He climbed onto the bed, bracing himself over you. “Say it again.”

You breathed faster, your body betraying you even as you whispered, “Arrogant.”

His mouth claimed yours instantly, rough and demanding. His hand slid beneath your shirt, his weight pinning you down. When he pulled back, breath ragged, his voice was a low growl.

“You’re mine.”

The words echoed in your skull long after he fell asleep, his arm slung over your waist. You hated how much you craved the claim, even as you wondered if being his meant losing yourself entirely.

The fights escalated.

When you told him you were meeting a friend—an old friend, nothing more—his glare had darkened.

“Don’t act like I don’t see the way he looks at you.”

“He’s a friend, Rin. That’s all.”

“Friends don’t look at you like that.”

“Not everything is a threat,” you snapped. “Not everyone is trying to take me from you.”

His eyes were ice when they locked onto yours. “And if they were?”

You faltered, your voice small. “Then I’d still choose you.”

But he didn’t seem satisfied. His hand gripped your chin harshly, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You belong to me. Don’t forget that.”

And you nodded, because resistance felt impossible.

⸻

After fights came softer nights.

Once, after a particularly brutal argument, he held you like he was afraid of letting go. His kisses were uncharacteristically slow, his hands shaking as they explored your body with almost reverent care. That night, he whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

The words should have broken you. Instead, you kissed him, desperate to convince yourself that he did.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right.

⸻

The breaking point came at one of his games.

You watched from the stands as he tore through the field, unstoppable. The crowd screamed his name, girls waved signs with his number, their faces alight with adoration. And something inside you cracked.

How could you compete with that? With thousands of people loving him at once, when you couldn’t even hold onto his affection for a single day?

Afterward, when you confronted him, the words spilled out. “She loves you. They all love you. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

His jaw tightened. “You think I care about them?”

“I don’t know what you care about!” you cried. “You never tell me, Rin. You keep everything locked away, and I’m tired of guessing!”

For the first time, his voice faltered. “I care about you.”

It should have healed something. Instead, it felt like another chain tightening around your throat.

⸻

The end didn’t come with shouting. It came with absence.

You woke one morning to find his side of the bed cold, his belongings scattered as usual but his phone gone. No note. No text. Nothing.

Hours became days. Calls went unanswered. Messages ignored. The silence hollowed you out until you were raw with fear and longing.

When he finally walked through the door, you didn’t know whether to scream or collapse.

“Where were you?” Your voice broke on the words.

He didn’t answer. He dropped his bag and collapsed onto the couch, scrolling absently through his phone as if nothing had happened.

“Rin!” you shouted, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Do you even care what this is doing to me? Do you even care about me at all?”

At last, his eyes lifted to yours. Cold. Distant. Already gone.

“I told you,” he said quietly. “I don’t deserve you.”

And that was all. No fight. No plea. Just an ending masquerading as resignation.

That night, you packed your things. Your hands shook, your chest hollow, as you left his apartment behind. He didn’t stop you. He didn’t even look up.

The tragedy wasn’t that Rin didn’t love you. It was that he did—fiercely, selfishly, destructively. And neither of you knew how to survive it.

[h1r4-n7rr]

ʙʟᴜᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ

xʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴs (21 ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅs

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀs ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴍʙ ɪғ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴜʀᴀᴛᴇ, ɪ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀs ɪɴ-ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴀs ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ.

Isagi Yoichi

1. Overthinks how to impress you, even for simple things like texting back.

2. Gets super giddy when you praise his soccer skills—it motivates him more than Ego’s speeches.

3. Tries to plan cute dates but always ends up dragging you to watch matches.

4. Lowkey likes when you ruffle his hair, though he’ll deny it.

5. Will send you random “thinking of you” messages in the middle of training.

Meguru Bachira

1. Sends you silly doodles of the two of you as monsters.

2. Loves to sneak up and hug you from behind.

3. Shares the weirdest food combos with you and insists you try them with him.

4. Drags you on spontaneous adventures, like chasing fireflies at night.

5. If you’re upset, he’ll make funny faces until you laugh.

Rensuke Kunigami (before wild card)

1. Walks you home, no matter how far it is.

2. Always shares his food with you.

3. Trains harder if you’re watching, trying to show off.

4. Holds your hand like he’s protecting you from the whole world.

5. Buys you little keychains whenever he goes out.

Hyoma Chigiri

1. Loves when you play with his hair—it relaxes him instantly.

2. Will secretly run just to meet you faster.

3. Sends you photos of pretty scenery during his jogs.

4. Gets flustered if you cheer for him loudly at matches.

5. When you’re tired, he’ll slow his pace just to match yours.

Raichi Jingo

1. Teases you relentlessly but gets sulky if you don’t tease back.

2. Brags about you loudly to the team.

3. Pretends he doesn’t like affection, but secretly loves it.

4. Challenges you to random competitions (who can eat spicier food, etc.).

5. Gets jealous really easily but hides it behind sarcasm.

Gin Gagamaru

1. Offers you piggyback rides all the time.

2. Shares snacks with you, even if they’re his favorite.

3. Gets super shy about PDA but tries his best.

4. Writes you short, awkward but sweet texts like “good morning :)”.

5. Loves watching movies with you, even if he falls asleep halfway.

Okuhito Iemon

1. Constantly cracks bad jokes to make you laugh.

2. Sends you memes instead of actual “good morning” texts.

3. Makes playlists and forces you to listen.

4. Shows off every little skill he has to impress you.

5. Pretends he’s smooth but stumbles over his words when you smile at him.

Naruhaya Asahi

1. Acts cool, but melts when you kiss his cheek.

2. Likes quiet moments with you more than flashy dates.

3. Will help you carry bags without being asked.

4. Notices small details, like when you change your nails or hairstyle.

5. Gives you his hoodie without any hesitation.

Gurimu Igarashi

1. Clings to you whenever he’s nervous.

2. Always asks “did I do good?” after matches so you’ll reassure him.

3. Gets pouty if you don’t give him enough attention.

4. Sends you dramatic “I miss you 🥺” texts after one day apart.

5. Loves when you pep talk him—it gives him courage.

Rin Itoshi

1. He won’t admit it, but he gets jealous easily.

2. He shows affection in small ways, like carrying your things without asking.

3. He prefers quality time over anything—sitting comfortably in silence, going on late night walks, etc.

4. If you praise him, he’ll act indifferent, but his ears will instantly turn pink.

5. Secretly LOVES when you nag him a little, because it makes him feel cared for.

Sae Itoshi

1. He doesn’t like PDA, but he’ll always hold your hand in crowded places.

2. Your dates are ALWAYS high quality; he takes you to places with good food and quiet atmosphere.

3. He’s very blunt when he speaks, but he’ll always remember everything that you tell him.

4. Loves to rage bait you, just to see your reaction.

5. If you’re upset, he won’t say much, but he’ll sit beside you and remind you he’s not leaving your side.

Shoei Barou

1. Treats you like royalty—he’ll insist carrying bags, opening doors, and walking on the traffic sides of the street.

2. PDA is mandatory for him. He’ll always want people to know your with him.

3. He’s always competitive. If you joke about liking someone else, he’ll try his best to outshine them.

4. Buys you expensive things out of the blue. In his eyes, you always deserve the best of the best.

5. Gets sulky and desperate if you don’t give him enough attention.

Reo Mikage

1. Reo spoils you effortlessly—gifts, surprise dates, always planning things you didn’t even know you wanted.

2. He’s a big cuddler, the kind to drape his arm around you whenever he can.

3. His love language is acts of service—if you even mention something you want or need, he’ll rush to get it for you.

4. He hypes you up all the time, no one is more confident in you than Reo is.

5. He gets pouty if you downplay his efforts, because making you happy genuinely fulfills him inside.

Nagi Seishiro

1. He acts lazy about love, but he remembers tiny details about you and brings them up casually.

2. LOVES when you play with his hair while he lyes on your lap. It’s peak happiness for him.

3. He’s not good with words, but he sends you random videos or texts, and even reposts about you.

4. Prefers low effort, cozy dates—gaming together, napping, or watching shows.

5. Gets a little clingy; holding onto your arm, leaning on you, or pulling you in closer.

Ryusei Shidou

1. He’s chaotic in love—one day he’s showering you with affection, the next day he’s teasing you.

2. PDA is his thing—kisses in public, cuddling, arms around you, all the time, 24/7.

3. He loves to surprise you, showing up from nowhere or whisking you away on a date.

4. He’s surprisingly VERY protective, he always gets defensive when someone badmouths you.

5. He calls you over-the-top nicknames to see your reaction, and they get progressively worse.

Michael Kaiser

1. He lives for PDA, and makes sure everyone knows that you’re his.

2. Buys you luxurious gifts, but plays it off like it’s no big deal.

3. He loves playful banter—if you can sass him back, you’ve already won his heart.

4. Gets jealous but hides it behind comments like “cute, but im obviously better.”

5. He’ll drag you into the spotlight, hyping you up, but not as much as himself.

Karasu Tabito

1. He flirts CONSTANTLY, even after you’re already dating.

2. Loves whispering comments into your ear, just to make you flustered.

3. Playful and teasing all the time, but gets protective if someone disrespects you.

4. Enjoys physical affection in subtle ways—hand on your waist, arm around your shoulder.

5. If you ever tease him—he’s delighted.

Yukimiya Kenyu

1. He’s the definition of a gentleman—flowers, compliments, & making sure you feel cherished for.

2. Loves taking aesthetic photos with you, he insists on posting you to his story.

3. Gives you fashion advice, and sometimes picks out outfits for you.

4. He’s openly affectionate, but never overbearing.

5. When you’re down, he pampers you with small luxuries like your favorite snacks, or music.

Kurona Ranze

1. He’s quiet, but his actions speak louder than words—fixing things for you, or waiting up late till you’re free.

2. Struggles with expressing emotions, but gets flustered if you compliment him.

3. Loves to sit in comfortable silence with you.

4. If you’re upset, he’ll stay calm and listens to you rant, only talking if he thinks it’ll help.

5. Rarely initiates PDA, but if you do, he’ll never let go.

Tabito Sendo

1. He’s goofy and playful, constantly trying to make you laugh.

2. HUGE fan of couple activities—cooking together, training together, silly board games.

3. Loves hyping you up, tells people “look at my partner, aren’t they just amazing?”

4. He gets pouty if you don’t give him enough attention, but it doesn’t last long.

5. His hugs are huge and warm, the type to lift you off the ground a bit.

Noel Noa

1. He’s extremely reserved with affection, but it’s 100% genuine when he gives it.

2. He loves to support your goals and push you to your best.

3. Prefers quiet and private moments over anything flashy.

4. Rarely says “I love you,” but his actions proves it for him every time.

5. He’s protective in a calmer way, just making sure you’re safe and respected.

[h1r4-n7rr]

sᴀᴇ ɪᴛᴏsʜɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs... ʙᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs?

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.1ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅs

authors note: I haven’t posted here in AWHILE, I’m planning to be more consistent though. Enjoy!!

chapter 1

(Your POV)

The first time you dreamt of him, you thought he was just a figment from your imagination — some perfect face your mind conjured up in the middle of the night at 3AM. The dream wasn’t vivid at first. Just a boy with sea-glass eyes, standing beneath a flickering streetlamp. He didn’t say anything, only looked at you as if he already knew who you were.

But the dreams kept coming.

Every night, he was there. Sometimes in an empty train station. Sometimes on a quiet beach, the horizon fading into darkness. Sometimes on a rainy street where the two of you stood, umbrellas forgotten, eyes searching one another like you were the only two people alive.

You never asked his name during your dreams. Maybe you were afraid that knowing it would make him vanish. Still, you learned him through fragments — the curve of his lips when he said something dryly, the way his silence felt heavy but never cruel, the strange way you trusted him instantly.

Weeks turned to months. The boy became a constant. When you woke, you carried a weight in your chest, half-mourning, half-yearning. The world outside your door felt gray in comparison.

Because how were you supposed to explain to anyone that the love of your life only existed when you were asleep?

chapter 2

(Sae’s POV)

At first, Sae dismissed it. He wasn’t someone who believed in fate or destiny — he believed in talent, in grit, in carving a path alone. Dreams were irrelevant.

But then you appeared again.

And again, over and over…

No matter where his body ended up — Madrid, Tokyo, traveling across time zones for matches — you were always there when he closed his eyes. Sometimes silent, sometimes laughing softly at something he said, sometimes staring at him like he was more than a prodigy, more than a weapon to win games.

He hated how much he needed it.

On the field, he was Sae Itoshi, the genius. In his dreams, he was just a boy who could stand still beside you without the world demanding anything from him. You never asked him for goals, or victories, or proof of his greatness. You simply looked at him like he was enough.

That terrified him more than he’d admit.

He tried, a few times, to force himself to forget. To sleep less, to stay awake longer, to tell himself it was just neurons firing in patterns. But no matter what, the dreams came. And so did you.

The one person he couldn’t meet in reality. The one person who made him wonder — just once in a while — if maybe life had more to offer than soccer.

chapter 3

(Your POV)

You didn’t expect Tokyo to feel so alive that night. Streets buzzing, neon bleeding into the sky. You were on your way home, groceries in hand, weaving through the crowd. It should have been ordinary.

Until you saw him.

Your body froze before your mind caught up. He was standing across the street, earphones in, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. Taller than you’d imagined, sharper around the edges, but unmistakable.

The boy from your dreams.

The world seemed to tilt. You nearly dropped your bag, staring like you’d gone mad. But then his gaze lifted, and for the first time outside of sleep, those sea-glass eyes locked onto yours.

Recognition flared instantly.

He blinked once, twice. His headphones slipped from his ears. The faintest change crossed his face — disbelief, then something deeper.

Your heart thundered. You should have turned away, told yourself it was coincidence. But your legs moved before your brain could protest, carrying you across the street toward him.

When you stopped in front of him, you whispered, trembling, “It’s you.”

chapter 4

(Sae’s POV)

For the first time in years, Sae felt his composure fracture.

You were real. Standing inches from him, looking at him with the same wide-eyed certainty you did in his dreams.

He wanted to speak, but words refused to come. All the things he thought he’d say if this moment ever happened — sharp questions, cold dismissal, maybe even admitting how badly he needed you — dissolved into silence.

You looked up at him, fragile but fearless, like you’d been waiting too.

“It’s you,” you repeated softly.

The noise of the city roared around him, but it all blurred. For once, he wasn’t Sae Itoshi the prodigy. He was just a boy, staring at someone who had haunted him across time zones, across nights.

He forced his voice steady. “…I know.”

The two of you stood there, neither moving, as if waking up from the same dream at the same time.

And Sae, who never believed in fate, finally wondered if it had been leading him here all along.

chapter 5

(Your POV)

The days that followed were unreal.

You and Sae met again. First for coffee, where the silence stretched awkward but not unbearable. Then again, on a late-night walk where he confessed he didn’t know why he kept showing up, only that he couldn’t stay away.

It was strange, learning him in reality. He was sharper here, less gentle than in your dreams. His honesty could cut, his silences sometimes heavy with things unsaid. But underneath it all, you recognized the same boy who had stood beside you in countless dreamscapes.

And he recognized you too.

Sometimes, when his eyes softened unexpectedly, you knew he was remembering. That rainy street, that flickering lamplight, that feeling of always finding each other no matter what.

You fell slowly, inevitably. But reality was heavier than dreams.

Sae’s world was vast, demanding, full of people who wanted pieces of him. You were just you — ordinary, unremarkable, terrified of not being enough.

And yet, when he brushed his fingers against yours for the first time, the city vanished. You were back in that dream again, where nothing else mattered but the fact that you had found each other.

chapter 6

(Sae’s POV)

He should have known it wouldn’t be easy.

Soccer consumed him. Expectations piled higher every season. And now, for the first time, he had something — someone — he was afraid to lose.

He tried to be steady for you. Tried to show up, even when exhaustion clawed at him. But Sae Itoshi was not built for softness. He stumbled, sometimes with harsh words, sometimes with silence when you needed more.

And yet, you stayed.

On the nights he returned, drained and wordless, you sat beside him, letting the silence stretch without breaking. You didn’t demand his victories. You didn’t fear his flaws. You only looked at him the way you always had — like he was more than enough.

He loved you for that.

But love wasn’t always enough.

One night, as he walked you home, he said it quietly, almost like he hated himself for it: “I don’t know if I can keep this. Not the way you deserve.”

Your breath caught, but your eyes were steady. “Maybe it’s not about deserving. Maybe it’s about choosing.”

The words sank into him like a blade.

Sae had never believed in fate. But when you looked at him under that dim streetlight, he thought maybe he was wrong. Maybe fate had been cruel, binding two souls through dreams only to place them in a world where timing and reality threatened to pull them apart.

And still — despite everything — he reached for your hand.

Because even if it ended tomorrow, even if life tore you away, he needed to choose you.

Just once, for this time only.

Maybe once would be enough.

okay the end & then you two have 129358 kids and live happily ever after😭✌️

[h1r4-n7rr]

ғᴜsʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs ᴛʀᴏᴘᴇ

"ᴛʜᴇ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs"

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.3ᴋ

The only thing worse than your Monday morning home room was sharing it with Megumi Fushiguro, of all people.

You don’t know why exactly he irritates you so much—maybe it’s the way he always acts so aloof, as if the rest of the class seems low beneath him. Or, it could’ve been the way he never raises his hand but always has the right answer in a second. Or maybe it’s just how, even without trying, he makes your heart stutter every time he glances your way half-way into the period. You hate that the most, of all things.

You aren’t exactly friends. Not enemies, either. But he challenges you in ways that no one else would ever dare to, especially when it came to academics and training. You are both first years at Jujutsu High, stuck in the same class, the same dorm building, and unfortunately, often the same missions.

It’s been like this since day one, for as far as you could remember.

“You should focus less on flair and more on precision,” he mutters after one of your sparring matches during combat training.

You quickly whip your head around, breathing heavily, your sweat clinging to your forehead. “And you should try not being a condescending jerk for once.”

He shrugs like he didn’t just insult you. “I’m just offering you constructive criticism.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Thanks, Mr. Perfect. I guess it must be nice to have a personality built completely from a wall, huh?”

You could have sworn his lip twitched into a smirk, before he turns away from your gaze.

That was the thing about Fushiguro. He never dares to fight back in the way you would want him to. He doesn’t throw disses like Gojo, or bicker loud like Nobara. Instead, he quietly tears you down with a single sentence, subtle jabs at you, and that maddening calm expression that he never fails to keep.

And yet, somehow, that only makes things worse.

You don’t expect the turning point to come in the form of detention.

Apparently, Gojo-sensei thought it would be funny to pair the two of you for the purpose of ‘training detention,’ which you quickly came to realize was ridiculous code for ‘I want to watch these two suffer.’

“Don’t kill each other,” he says, cheerfully sipping his tea from the observation deck, a smug grin plastered all over his face.

You and Megumi stand at opposite ends of the practice yard, just barely making eye contact.

The silence between you stretched thick and long, until you decide to break it.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Megumi gives you a small nod, raising his fists in defense. You charge first, pouring pure frustration into your strikes, but he blocks them easily, every single one. Like usual, always calm, always unreadable.

It wasn’t until he counters with a move you haven’t seen before that you lose your balance. You land hard on your back with a groan, collapsing to the ground.

He rushes to your side, carefully crouching beside you. “Are you okay?”

You blink, stunned—not just by the fall, but by the genuine concern that lies in his voice.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, but your voice lacked any sort of conviction.

“You were overextending. Again.” He says blatantly.

“Why do you always do that?” you snap back, sitting up.

“Do what?”

“Criticize everything I do like you’re some sort of master.” You groan and roll your eyes at him, your voice underlying a hint of annoyance.

He looks at you for a long moment. “Because I notice things. That’s all. And I’d rather you be annoyed and alive than dead.”

The sincerity in his voice took the fight right out of you.

For once, you don’t have a comeback to him.

After that, something felt as if it were shifting…

You start to train together more often—voluntarily, not just because of Gojo-sensei pairing you out of spite. There were still pointless arguments, of course, and plenty of sassy eye rolls, but the edges begin to soften little by little. Conversations happen. Sometimes, they even drift outside of training—books you were reading, favorite foods, or complaints about Gojo’s ridiculous missions.

And then…comes the library incident.

You’re curled up in a corner with a textbook in hand, trying to cram for a cursed technique theory exam you had forgot about, when Megumi appears and sit’s down next to you without a single word.

You glance at him. “This seat taken?”

He doesn’t budge to look up. “It is now.”

You stare at him for a second before huffing a laugh. “Bold of you to assume I won’t just move.”

“You won’t.” He shoots back.

“…Why wont I, then? Hm?”

He looks at you then, eyes steady. “Because I know you don’t actually hate me.”

The silence that follows felt almost deafening.

You stare at him, pulse ticking in your throat.

He goes back to reading.

You don’t move.

The realization comes quietly, like most dangerous things do. You’re falling for Fushiguro.

Somewhere between those late-night study sessions, the careful way he wrapped your injured wrist in gauze after a mission, and the small smile he would give when you complimented his shikigami—you fall for it so easily.

And you hate it, so much.

Not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because you feel scared he wouldn’t feel the same way. That you’ll always be the one who cared more. That maybe, to him, you’re just another classmate. An annoyance he’sgrown used to.

That fear sits in your chest like a stone.

You try to distance yourself whenever you can.

Yet he notices every time.

“Are you avoiding me?” He asks.

The question comes one afternoon as you were heading out of the common room. You turn to find him standing behind you, arms crossed.

“I’m just busy,” you say quickly.

“With what?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Some stuff.”

He frowns. “Did I do something?”

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. “No, Megumi. You didn’t. I just…need more space.”

“…From me?”

You hesitate. “Yeah.”

He looks like you had just slapped him.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

And just like that, he turns and walks away.

You stand there for a long time, feeling like you just made a terrible mistake.

It only got worse when the next mission came by.

It’s supposed to be simple—clean-up duty after a first-year squad exorcised a low-level cursed spirit at a school in Kyoto. But something’s off there. The air feels heavy, unnatural. Gojo had sent you and Megumi to check it out.

“Stay close,” Megumi says cautiously when you arrived.

You nod, tension crawling under your skin.

The school hallways are dark, long shadows twisting gauntly at the edges of your vision. You step carefully, every creak of the floorboards loud in the silence.

That’s when the spirit reveals itself.

It’s not weak. Not even close.

Megumi launches into battle immediately, summoning his divine dogs, barking orders for you to stay behind for cover. You ignore him, charging in to back him up. You aren’t going to let him fight alone.

But the spirit is fast—much faster than either of you had expected.

One wrong move and it would send a heavy, slicing blow toward you.

You don’t see it coming soon enough.

But Megumi does.

He dives in front of you, taking the hit across his side.

“Megumi!” You exclaim.

You catch him as he stumbles back, blood staining your shirt.

“Don’t…stop fighting,” he hisses.

Your heart thunders. “Like hell I won’t—”

“(Insert name), please.” He begs.

It was the desperation in his voice that snaps something inside you.

With a guttural scream, you pull on every bit of cursed energy you have, launching into a counterattack that left the spirit obliterated.

When it ended, erupting into a loud silence, you drop to your knees beside him.

“You idiot,” you whisper, pressing your hand to his wound. “You could’ve died.”

He gives you a weak smile. “I told you…I’d rather you be annoying and alive than dead.”

You laugh through the subtle tears. “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.” He says through a small grin.

You meet his eyes, heart thudding.

“Why would you do that for me?” you whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Because I love you.”

The world stills inside your mind.

“What?” You say, a hint of shock in your voice. As if you thought you must’ve heard something else, anything besides the words ‘I love you.’

His voice is barely audible. “I think I have for a while now.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“I thought you hated me,” you whisper back.

“I didn’t, I never did. I just didn’t know how to talk to you without wanting to kiss you or argue with you. Sometimes it was both.”

Your chest aches in the best way possible.

“I love you too, you dumbass.”

You lean in and kiss him, soft and lingering, not daring to let go. The weight of all the months of built-up tension finally beginning to break apart.

He smiles into it, and for once, Megumi Fushiguro looks at peace.

He recovers quickly—too stubborn not to.

Things were different after that. Softer than ever before.

He still corrects your technique, and you still call him pretentious. But he holds your hand under the desk during lectures. He brings you tea whenever you’re studying late. You patch up his bruises with hands gentler than you’d ever used before on anyone.

Sometimes, you find yourselves in the library together again. This time, he lets his head rest on your shoulder, eyes closed, fingers loosely tangled with yours.

Enemies once. Lovers now.

Not quite perfect, but real.

And in a school where death always lingers just beyond the tall gates, you both learn to cling to what matters most, beyond death.

Each other…

The infirmary is quiet, except for the steady beep of the monitor standing beside Megumi’s hospital bed.

You sit in the chair next to him, fingers nervously curled around the edge of your sweatshirt, eyes watching his slow, steady breaths. It’s been three days since the mission, since the confession, and still, you aren’t sure if you had dreamt it all.

Because Megumi Fushiguro doesn’t ever say things like ‘I love you.’

He doesn’t bleed for people who irritated him.

He doesn’t kiss like that unless it meant something deep.

…Right? You would think to yourself, trying to reassure yourself from it all.

You drop your forehead into your hands and exhale.

“Why does this feel so much scarier than fighting curses?”

“You tell me,” comes a rough, familiar voice.

You jolt up. “Megumi—! You’re awake—”

“Yeah. Unfortunately..” His eyes are half-lidded, and he looks pale, but there’s a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You almost died,” you say softly.

“You keep saying that like I don’t know already.” He chuckles.

You lean forward, your hands trembling slightly. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’d still do it again.”

Silence washes over.

Your heart stutters painfully, and something in your chest cracks a little wider.

Megumi turns his head slowly, looking at you.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs. “Even if you never say it again. Even if you change your mind tomorrow. I needed you to know.”

You stare at him, stunned by the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“…You think I’d change my mind?”

He shrugs, trying to play it off, but the way he clenches his jaw gave him away.

You reach out and take his hand.

He tenses at first—but then relaxes.

“I’ve always seen you, Megumi. Even when I said I hated you. Even when I pretended I didn’t care.”

“I noticed,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just…never thought I deserved you.”

Something odd twists inside you. All this time, you thought you weren’t enough. That he couldn’t possibly feel anything real for someone as loud, emotional, and impulsive as you.

But Megumi—he’d been carrying doubts all along too.

Your fingers tighten around his.

“You do,” you whisper. “You deserve to be seen, and loved.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours.

And this time, he doesn’t dare to look away.

That night, as the sun dipped below the dorm windows and the world hushed into a warm glow, Megumi let’s you lay beside him on the infirmary cot—his hand rests gently over yours, softly twined in your hair, his head tucked close.

Neither of you speak much to each other.

But the silence between you two isn’t cold anymore.

It feels safe and soft.

Like you’re finally coming home.

For once, the space between you is filled with something brand new.

Love.

And growing, together…

Megumi is healing. Fast, of course—too fast for his own good, as usual.

You barely see him anymore.

Not because you don’t want to, but because suddenly he seems to be always gone. Training with Gojo. Running errands with Nobara. Disappearing into town after missions without a word.

You don’t want to overthink it. But the silence between you—once soft and warm—has gone cold again.

What makes it worse was the new second-year transfer…Hana.

That Sweet voice, and bright eyes. And the way she clings to Megumi like she’s known him for years already.

You watch her sit next to him at lunch. Touch his arm during training. Smile at him in ways you had once claimed as your own.

And Megumi doesn’t flinch. He never correct her. He doesn’t even look uncomfortable with it.

It feels like a thorn in your chest.

Small, at first. Then constant, thickening.

“You’re mad,” Megumi says to you one night as you pass each other in the hallway.

“I’m not,” you reply, a little too quickly.

He turns to face you, eyes narrowed. “You haven’t spoken to me in three days.”

“You’ve been busy.” You shrug, keeping your tone flat.

“With missions.” He says hesitantly.

“Yeah, and Hana.” You snap back.

The air shifts.

Megumi’s brow furrow. “What does she have to do with anything?”

You give a dry laugh. “I don’t know, you tell me. She’s practically attached to you.”

“She’s just a classmate, you know that.”

You meet his eyes. “Does she know that?”

His mouth opens, but no words came. Just awkward silence.

And the silence says everything it needs to.

You don’t fight, not exactly. But the distance grows again—more sharp and painful this time.

You start to skip dinner whenever you know he’d be there. Training early to avoid running into him. Pushing yourself to exhaustion to keep from thinking too long about him and Hana.

Megumi never stops to go chase after you.

And that hurts you more than anything else.

One rainy evening, Nobara finds you in the gym, fists pounding a sandbag hard enough to bruise your fingers.

“You okay?” She asks lightly to you.

You don’t stop. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine!”

“It’s because you look like you’re five seconds from crying or punching a wall.”

You finally still at that, breathing ragged.

She walks up to you, her voice low. “Look, I know Megumi’s being…Megumi. But he’s not doing it on purpose.”

You look down. “Then why does it feel like he’s pulling away for Hana?”

Nobara hesitates. “Because he’s scared.”

You scoff. “Of what?”

“Of messing this up. Of being too much. Of hurting you.” She softens her tone. “You guys are so busy trying not to fall apart from each other, that you forgot how to hold each other.”

You sit on the mat, wiping your forehead. “It’s like I don’t even know how to talk to him anymore.”

“Then maybe it’s time to try, don’t you think?” She suggests.

Suddenly, the opportunity came unexpectedly—Gojo’s dumb idea of “perfect team bonding.”

You, Megumi, Nobara, Yuji…and Hana—stuck in a van together, heading to a small and quiet countryside town for the weekend.

You choose the back seat. Megumi sits in the middle, and of course he’s right beside Hana.

She laughs at something he said, then leans her head against his shoulder.

You turn your face to the window, your throat tight and soar.

Later that night, at the inn you all were staying at, you find yourself sitting alone on the veranda, the cold air brushing against your skin.

“You’ve been avoiding me again.” Megumi says to you.

You don’t need to turn your head to know it’s him.

“Habit, I guess,” you say dryly.

He steps beside you, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he says quietly.

You finally look at him. “Start by being honest with me, then.”

His eyes flick to yours. “I am.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one who cares anymore?” You say, your throat feeling tight and heavy as you spoke.

Megumi’s jaw tightens.

“Do you like her better?” The words slip out before you can stop them. “…Hana?”

He stares at you, stunned. “What?”

“She’s always around you. You don’t push her away. I don’t know what to think—”

“I don’t like Hana,” he cuts in. “She’s been through a lot. I was trying to be kind.”

“But that’s the thing. You’ve been kind to everyone but me!”

That lands deep in his face.

He exhales sharply, stepping closer to you. “You think I don’t care about you? That I don’t want this?”

“You haven’t shown it.” You say, not meeting his eyes.

“I didn’t know how. I thought I was giving you some space.”

You blink. “I never asked you for space.”

“I know that now.” He says, and sighs with a hint of annoyance.

There’s a long pause.

“You confuse the hell out of me, Megumi,” you say quietly. “You open up just enough for me to fall into you deeper, and then you shut the door in my face…”

“I’ve been scared too,” he admits. “I don’t know how to be with someone who actually acknowledge me. I keep messing it up, I know.”

You hesitate.

“…Then stop it. Stop messing it up.”

Megumi’s gaze meets yours. “You still want this?”

You don’t answer with words. Just reach out and touch his hand hesitantly.

He takes it, intertwining your hand is his.

For a moment, the noise between you melts.

“I missed you,” he says, so softly that you almost miss it completely.

“I missed you more…”

That night, Megumi sits with you under the stars. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, his silence no longer as heavy…

You lean into him.

“You know,” you say, voice light, “you suck at this whole ‘being in love’ thing.”

He gives a tired smile. “I’m learning, just you wait.”

You smirk. “Slow as ever.”

“Hey.” He says with a grin.

But when you glance up, his expression is different. Sincere this time.

“I don’t want to lose you again, (insert name).”

You reach for his hand and squeeze it tight.

“Okay, then don’t.”

And just like that, the thorn loosens.

The silence heals.

And the space between you becomes something you could finally share…

The next mission is short, brutal, and exhausting.

You both stand outside the abandoned temple, bloodied and sore but alive, the last cursed spirit finally gone.

Megumi sits on the stone steps, one hand pressing against his side, the same spot where he’d been injured weeks ago. You drop beside him, breathing heavy.

“You okay?” you ask softly.

“Yeah. Just bruised,” he says. Then, after a moment—“Thanks for watching my back.”

You nudge his knee with yours. “Always.”

There’s a long silence, broken only by the distant hum of the bundle of cicadas. Then he clears his throat, eyes fixed on the cracked pavement of the steps.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins. “About us. About everything I didn’t say when I really should’ve.”

You turn to him, heart thudding fast.

“I want to try. Like…really try,” he says. “No more holding back. So—”

He pauses, catching his breath.

“Would you go on a real date with me? I mean, just us. No curses. No drama…except for me and you.”

You blink, then smile.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

He gives a faint laugh, as relief softens his expression.

“Is that a yes, then?”

You reach over and lace your fingers with his.

“It’s a hell yes, Megumi.”

And that’s all the words he needs…

The first real date—it’s all awkward, at first.

Megumi stands outside your dorm room in a black hoodie and baggy jeans, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His hair is messier than usual, like he’d run his fingers through it a dozen times debating whether or not to knock.

You open the door mid-thought and smile up at him, the corners of your eyes creasing.

“You look like you’re trying to talk yourself out of this.”

“I was,” he admits, his cheeks faintly pink.

You lean against the frame. “And?”

“I lost the argument.” He sighs softly.

You laugh. “Good. Because I was gonna drag you out either way.”

The two of you walk to a quiet cafe tucked right between a used bookstore and a calm record shop, the kind of hidden place that didn’t see to behold much foot traffic. It smells like cinnamon and rain, soft jazz playing from an old speaker in the corner.

Megumi pays before you could argue with him, then leads you to a booth near one of the windows.

“Still not used to seeing you in normal clothes,” you tease at him, sipping your drink.

He shrugs. “Still not used to you not yelling at me.”

“Oh, I can yell if it turns you on, then. Would that make you comfortable?” You laugh lightly.

He gives you a look, but you catch the tiny smirk tugging at his lips.

It feels slow, soft—your first real date. The kind that didn’t revolve around blood, curses, or Gojo being a menace of a mentor. Just you, him, and a table full of stolen glances and quiet smiles.

By the time you step out of the cafe, the sky has deepened into violet-blue, the sidewalk still damp from the earlier rain.

Megumi walks beside you in silence, his fingers brushing against yours but not quite holding them. Not yet, at least.

“You’re being oddly quiet,” you say, bumping your shoulder into his.

He exhales slowly. “I keep thinking this’ll go wrong somehow.”

You stop walking and look up at him. “It won’t. Not if you stop assuming it will, that is.”

He meets your gaze—and for the first time in a while, he doesn’t look away.

“I want to kiss you right now,” he says suddenly.

Your heart stutters.

“Okay, then do it.”

At that, he leans in. It felt surreal at first, his lips passionately against yours. Warm in embracing your touch, the sweet aroma of his lips lingering onto you. After moments that felt longer than needed, you both let go—breathless, blushing vibrantly…

You end up back at the training field, empty and quiet under the moonlight. The grass is still a little wet, the air cool against your skin.

Megumi stands in front of you, face barely lit by the silver light, unsure but so achingly beautiful you wanted to wrap your arms around him and never let go.

“I’ve thought about this before,” he admits.

“About what?”

“This. Us. You.”

You step closer to him, breaking off the distance. “And?”

“I thought it would ruin everything.”

You’re close enough now to see a subtle blush scattered across his cheeks, the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Megumi,” you whisper, “you were the best thing that happened to me. Even when I hated you.”

“I never hated you,” he murmurs.

“I know that, dumbass.”

And then, finally—he kisses you again.

It feels careful at first, almost hesitant, like he isn’t sure he was allowed to feel this much a second time. His hands slide down to your waist, drawing you in gently, like he might break you otherwise if he wasn’t careful. You fist the fabric of his hoodie and pull him closer, lips parting against his with a breathless sigh.

Something in him snaps—softly, sweetly. The kiss deepens more. Slow and aching. The kind that makes your knees weak and your thoughts blur into a whirl.

His hands move up, one cupping your cheek, as his thumb brushes against your skin with a reverence you didn’t know he had in him.

You can feel everything in the kiss.

All the tension. All the anger. All the months of fighting and miscommunication, just to get to this moment.

When you finally pulled apart, you’re both breathless.

“…You’re really good at that,” you say, voice unsteady.

He smirks. “I’ve had practice…In my head, that is.”

You laugh and bury your face into his shoulder, heart full, chest warm.

That night, lying under the stars on the rooftop of Jujutsu High, Megumi holds your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Now, it was just you and him, finally in sync.

Whatever would come next—missions, curses, chaos—you know one thing is for sure:

You found your way to each other.

Not easily.

But completely, just at the right amount.

And that was enough for you.

[h1r4-n7rr]

𖦹ʚ♡ɞ˚ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ ! 𖦹ʚ♡ɞ˚

Name : Hiranur (pronounced as he-ra-noir, but I go by Hira on here).

Gender : Cisgender female

Pronouns : She/they

Sexuality : Bisexual, asexual

Age range : 13-16 yrs old

Nationality : 🇹🇷

Ethnicity : 🇹🇷🇮🇶

Time zone : EST

Mbti : INFP-T

Hobbies : Drawing, writing, listening to music, playing the violin, reading manga & manhwa, & watching shows/movies !!

Favorite color : blue

Languages I know : English, Turkish, Arabic, Spanish.

Fandoms : Blue lock, death note, jjk, demon slayer, ohshc, Saiki k, neon genesis evangelion, one piece, dandadan, soul eater, pjsk, & sakamoto days + SO MANY MORE!

Favs : Blue lock, jjk, demon slayer, one piece, mha.

𖦹ʚ♡ɞ˚ ᴇxᴛʀᴀ ғᴀᴄᴛs ! 𖦹ʚ♡ɞ˚

- I mainly post my fan fiction and head cannons on my tumblr page, I might use this for other things in the future 🤷‍♀️.

- All ages are welcome to interact with my page!!

-Any type of hate will not be tolerated here. Helpful criticism is always allowed, tho.

-18+ please be a little more respectful, since I’m very underaged.

- DNI IF YOUR ANY OF THESE : pro shipper, dark shipper, racist, trump supporter, conservative, fat-phobic, Islamophobic, zionist, misogynist, sexist, rcta, pedophile, zoophile, homophobic, transphobic, disrespectful, judgmental.

- Fan fiction requests & tips are always welcome on my page. :)

- I write SFW content, with some suggestive themes.

- I DONT write smut and NSFW content. Pls don’t ask me to write NSFW if you request me to write head cannons or fan fiction for you.

(Last updated 10/2/2025).

[h1r4-n7rr]

ғᴜsʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sɴᴏᴡ ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴅᴀʏs ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴsᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏғ "sᴛᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴀ sɴᴏᴡsᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇᴅ."

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.8ᴋ

Part 1 is posted on my page. I suggest reading it for context to part 2, if you haven’t already! (But ofc, I’m not forcing you to read part 1 before part 2).

The softening light of the mornings dawn leaks through the frosted hotel windows, its glow was barely piercing the thick and blurry fog of the storm—which was still raging outside the hotel. The room, dim and silent, acted as a small cocoon of warmth in contrast to the icy cold, the howling winds just beyond the frosty glass.

You slowly stir, not from the noise, but from the sensation of something heavy and warm draping across you.

It takes you a moment to piece everything together, from last night to the present.

Megumi.

His body remains curled up, almost vulnerable, beside you, his breathing slow and even, his head still resting against the edge of your shoulder. His arm is tightly snug around your waist, your fingers still tangled with his. You blink slowly, your heart pounding and fluttering just slightly as you registered how naturally the two of you had molded into one another through the night, not purely by intention.

The warmth…the closeness…the comfort. It doesn’t feel awkward to you anymore. It just feels right.

You almost found yourself wanting to laugh at how absurd the situation is. If someone had told you yesterday that you’d end up snuggled up with Fushiguro of all people, you’d have scoffed and walked away, rolling your eyes. Yet here you are, reluctant to move, and so reluctant to wake him up.

But Megumi, the light sleeper that he is, shifted slightly. His brow twitches, as a soft groan escapes his lips as he stirs. His hand, still clasping yours, tightened instinctively.

He blinks once. Then again.

Megumi:“…The hell?”

You smile to yourself before you turn your head just enough to glance back at him.

You: “Morning, sunshine.”

Megumi blinks rapidly, now fully awake. He seems to register your closeness now, the shared warmth between you two, both your fingers intertwined. Then, immediately, he pulls back like he just burned himself from fire.

Megumi: “I didn’t… I really didn’t mean to—!”

You sit up slowly, still smiling at his rare flustered state.

You: “Relax, Fushiguro. I don’t bite. You literally passed out, holding onto me like your life depended on it last night.”

He avoids your gaze, sitting up and rubbing his face with both hands. A faint flush creeps across his cheeks, just barely visible but most definitely there.

Megumi: “…Shut up.”

You let out a soft laugh, stretching your arms over your head as you glanced toward the window. The snow still falls heavily, the glass fogging from the contrast between the insides warmth and the bitter cold beyond outside.

You: “Looks like we’re snowed in here. Great.”

Megumi doesn’t respond right away. He looks over at you instead, his expression unreadable, though less annoyed than normal.

Megumi: “You sleep alright?”

You pause, surprised at the question—at the sincerity in his voice. It’s almost like he was genuine.

You: “Actually… yeah. Best I’ve slept in a while, to be honest...”

That seemed to catch him off guard, because he quickly looks away from you again, fiddling with the edge of the blanket between his fingers.

Megumi: “…Same.”

You both sit there in silence for a few moments, listening to the muffled sound of the wind outside and the occasional creak of the hotel building under the weight of the storm.

Then, suddenly—

BANG. BANG. BANG!

The door nearly rattles off its hinges with the sudden knock.

Yuji’s muffled voice came through the wood.

Yuji: “YO! You guys still alive in there?! Breakfast’s here! Gojo-sensei ordered way too much food for us!”

Nobara: “You better open this damn door before I start to just assume you’re doing something nasty in there!”

You and Megumi exchange a mortified glance.

Megumi: “…I hate them.”

You: “With a burning passion.”

You stand up and pad over to the door, yanking it open before either of them could say anything more.

Yuji is grinning like an idiot, a tray of takeout breakfast in his hands. Nobara stands behind him, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

Yuji: “You guys look cozy. Good night’s sleep?”

You take the tray from his hands, deadpan.

You: “Yuji, I swear to god, just shut up.”

Megumi walks over behind you, now more composed, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Megumi: “You’re both idiots.”

Nobara: “We’re geniuses, actually. You two look less serious than usual. Great progress.”

Gojo’s voice calls out from down the hallway.

Gojo: “That’s what I was saying! A snowstorm and one bed is the perfect recipe for some young love!”

You slam the door in their faces, resisting the urge to chuck the food tray at the wall.

You: “…Unbelievable.”

Megumi: “I’m gonna throw myself into the snow.”

You hand him a breakfast sandwich instead.

You: “Not until after you eat. Then you can freeze to death.”

After breakfast, the storm showed no signs of stopping. Gojo, unbothered as always, made it very clear that no missions were being carried out today.

Gojo: “Think of this as forced team bonding! Or, you know, survival training!”

With nowhere to go till tomorrow, you and Megumi find yourselves back in the hotel room, lounging on opposite ends of the bed, both pretending to be busy on your phones. But the atmosphere had shifted. Something was different…

Not awkward, though.

Just…quieter. Warmer. As if the closeness from last night lingered in the air, brushing against both of your skin.

You glance over at Megumi, noticing the slight furrow in his brow, like he was deep in his thoughts.

You: “You’re doing that face again.”

Megumi looks up, surprised.

Megumi: “Huh?”

You: “You know. The one where you look like you’re solving a murder in your head.”

He looks away.

Megumi: “I was just…thinking about what Gojo said earlier.”

You roll your eyes.

You:”Ignore him, he’s an idiot.”

But Megumi shakes his head slightly.

Megumi: “No…it’s not that. I meant what he said yesterday. About us being…opposites.”

You blink, not expecting that kind of reflection from him, of all people.

You: “…What about it?”

He hesitates, then finally meets your eyes.

Megumi: “We don’t get along. But…you’re not exactly…unbearable.”

Your mouth drops open in mock offense.

You: “Wow. Be still my heart. I’m so hurt.”

He huffs out a small laugh, the corners of his lips twitching.

Megumi: “What I mean is…it’s weird. I never really let people get this close to me. But with you…it’s not as hard as I thought it should be.”

Your heart skips a beat at the quiet honesty in his voice. Why was that? It felt..almost strange.

You: “Careful. That sounds dangerously close to a compliment, Fushiguro.”

Megumi looks away, but not before you caught the faint smile tugging at his lips.

Megumi: “Don’t let it get to your head, then.”

You lean back, exhaling slowly as you looked up at the ceiling.

You: “For what it’s worth…I don’t think we’re that different. You just hide your feelings all the time. I, on the other hand, light mine on fire and throw them at people.”

Megumi chuckles under his breath.

Megumi: “That’s one way to describe it.”

The silence falls again. This time, it feels comforting.

You both lay there for a while longer, talking about nothing and everything at once—random memories from Jujutsu High this school year, dumb things Yuji had done, Nobara’s rage-fueled shopping habits. It was easy. Natural, to you both. Familiar in a way that you hadn’t realize you were craving.

Eventually, the soft hush of snowfall began to lull you back into a sleepy daze.

You turn on your side again, tugging the blanket over your shoulders.

You: “Hey…if you get cold again tonight, don’t hesitate next time. The bed’s big enough for both of us.”

Megumi turns his head slightly, eyes half-lidded with drowsiness.

Megumi: “Thanks.”

You: “Just don’t hog the blanket.”

Megumi: “No promises.”

And with that, the day melted into evening once again, the storm outside a backdrop to a quiet, budding closeness neither of you expected. Maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous to think that opposites could… work with each other.

Not perfectly.

But enough, to the right amount.

Perhaps..the next time Megumi would ever reach for your hand in the middle of the night…he’d be fully awake—not just asleep and unaware, but filled with a hint of intention…

The snow didn’t let up.

By mid-afternoon the next day, the clouds hung low like a ceiling of dusty ash, and visibility outside the hotel was limited to just a mere few feet ahead. Still, despite the storm, Gojo insisted that it was time to begin the mission.

Gojo: “Snow or no snow, curses don’t take any more snow days. Let’s move out, now.”

Bundled in layers of winter gear on top your usual Jujutsu High uniform, you follow the others down the icy streets. The storm had weakened just enough for visibility to return to your eyes, though thick flakes still spiraled down around you like falling ash.

Yuji jogs ahead, practically bouncing in the snow with heavy excitement. Nobara has her hammer strapped to her side, while muttering complaints about wet socks and windburn. You walk with your hands tucked in your coat pockets, the cold biting sharply at your face.

Megumi walks beside you—and as usual, quiet.

Not one word about last night, or the night before. Not even a glance.

Yet, the space between you doesn’t feel as cold as the weather did.

Gojo leads the group through the slushy streets toward the mission site: a shuttered hot spring resort on the outskirts of town. The locals had reported several disappearances over the past two weeks—staff, guests, even a mail carrier. All had vanished without a trace. That kind of prolonged mysterious spiritual activity meant something powerful was lurking beneath the surface. It must’ve been a curse.

Gojo stops as the abandoned building came into your view. The structure stands ancient, the wood dark with age and warped from heavy snow damage. Its windows seemingly opaque with coats of frost, and a faint smell of mildew and rot drifts from the inside.

Gojo: “Alright, kids. This should be straightforward. One, maybe even two curses. About mid-grade, probably feeding off residual fear and isolation from the old guests as we speak. But…”

he turns around with a grin.

Gojo:”If you scream in there, I’m making fun of you for it later.”

Nobara: “Scream? Please, as if. I hope they scream when they see me.”

Yuji: “Alright! Let’s do this!”

You adjust your gloves and glance towards Megumi.

You: “You ready?”

He gives you a nod, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the building.

Megumi: “Yeah. Just…stay close by.”

Your gaze lingers on him a second longer before nodding.

The five of you step inside.

The entryway creaks beneath your feet as you walk, snow trailing in behind you. The lobby felt eerily quiet—furniture still intact, whilst covered in dust and cobwebs. The air inside felt stale and humid, a stark contrast to the biting cold of the air outside.

Gojo glances around casually.

Gojo: “Alright. Yuji, Nobara—you take over the west wing. Fushiguro, you’re with them. (Insert name), you’re with me.”

You blink.

You had silently hoped that maybe, you’d be paired up with Megumi for this mission.

This certainly felt like a bit of a shock, a change in paths.

You: “Wait, what?”

But before anyone could object, Gojo spins on his heel.

Gojo: “Split up. Easier to cover ground. We’ll regroup if anything shows up.”

With a wave, he disappears quickly down the hall.

Yuji looks back at you with a mischievous grin.

Yuji: “Try not to miss Megumi too much!”

You: “I hope you go fall in a snowdrift, Yuji!”

Megumi gives you a brief look—something unreadable in his eyes—before he turns and begins to follow the others down the west wing.

You sigh, gripping the railing as you headed up the narrow staircase that Gojo had taken, only to realize he had already vanished. Typical. He ran off, without stopping to wait for you.

You stood there, alone now.

Moving through the upper level, the air grew colder. Your breath fogs in front of you as you step past dust-coated furniture and old decor. The silence was surreal, unnatural—too quiet for you.

Then, without warning—

CRACK.

The wood beneath your foot gave way.

You gasp, throwing your arms out, but it was too late. The floor splinters, sending you crashing down through the boards into the eery darkness.

You land hard, pain jarring through your shoulder and side as you rolled against the cold floor below you.

A hidden room fell beneath the resort.

You groan, slowly pushing yourself up as you looked around. A dim red glow filled the space, coming from some faintly glowing talismans plastered along the stone walls. The space pulsed with cursed energy—thick, oppressive, and suffocating.

You were now in a lair.

Cursed energy flared defensively around you, your instincts kicking in.

Then, something moved.

From the far corner of the room, a creature slowly emerges—a humanoid curse, impossibly tall and weirdly contorted, its limbs too long, its head cocked unnaturally at an angle to the side. It grins at you with jagged teeth, its body rippling with negative energy.

You: “Well, shit.” You say with a sigh.

The curse lunges at you.

You throw up a barrier just in time, the creature slams into it, sending you skidding back.

Before it could recover, you dart forward to it, channeling your technique into your fist and slamming it swiftly into the curse’s side. It screeches, lashing out with its black claws, catching your arm. Pain blooms through instantly.

You hiss and stagger back. This thing was fast, for sure.

Your cursed energy is strong—but not enough to take this down alone in one go. You need backup.

Megumi…

You reach for the communication device on your collar.

You: “Megumi! I found the curse—it’s—augh!”

The creature tackles you before you could finish your sentence, slamming you hard against the dusty stone wall. Your breath leaves your lungs in an instant gasp.

From above, a voice calls.

Megumi: “I’m coming!”

Moments later, shadows erupt from the ceiling as his shikigami, the Divine Dogs, dive into the chamber and tear into the curse’s side. The beast howls loudly in pain, staggering backwards.

Megumi drops down from the elevation above, and beside you. His face hints sharp with worry, shadows of energy dancing around his hands.

Megumi: “You okay?”

You wince, holding your arm against you.

You: “Took a hit, but oh well, I’m still standing.”

He doesn’t respond, but just steps protectively in front of you, summoning the Max Elephant with a surge of power. The massive shikigami crashes down to the floor, water floods the room and slams into the curse like a tidal wave.

You join in, fighting at Megumi’s side—your cursed energy synchronizes like it had never been before. Where you were the fire, he was the shadow. Where you charged, he quickly covered. It seemed seamless.

And finally, with one last blow—a joint strikes—you both bring the curse to its knees. Megumi pierces its core with his shadow blade, and you explode cursed energy through its chest.

It howls—and then crumbles into the ash.

Silence returns to the empty chamber.

You both stand there, panting, bruised, but feeling victorious.

Megumi turns to you, his eyes scanning over your injuries.

Megumi: “You scared the hell out of me.”

You chuckle weakly.

You: “Don’t get all sentimental now. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

But he steps closer, gently lifting your wrist to examine the gash on your arm. His touch is careful. Focused.

Megumi: “…You were reckless.”

You: “You just missed me.”

He freezes.

Then exhales slowly.

Megumi: “…Yeah, your right. I did...”

Your heart stutters, just for a moment, before you lean in slightly.

You: “We made a good team back there.”

Megumi looks at you, really looking at you—and nods.

Megumi: “We always do. Even while we’re fighting.”

You smile faintly.

Above, you hear Yuji calling out, followed by Nobara’s voice echoing through the halls.

Megumi lets go of your wrist reluctantly, but not before brushing his thumb gently against your hand.

Megumi: “Come on. Let’s get out of here, now.”

You: “Yeah… before Gojo shows up and says ‘I told you so.”

You and Megumi climb out of the cursed chamber together, side by side. The storm outside still raged on, but within you both—there was a sense of warmth, and calmness.

And maybe…something else is beginning to take root within you two. An exciting sensation bubbling up inside. As your bond for each other strengthens, perhaps you could even find yourself relating to Megumi. It’s as if you were no longer as simple as fire and ice. Your firey flames seem to dwindle down ever so slightly in a warm embrace, whilst his icy walls melt gradually. But, you couldn’t deny it yourself any longer. After all, you and Megumi seemed to make a pretty good team.

[h1r4-n7rr]

ғᴜsʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

~ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀᴍ~

Setting: Post-Shibuya arc, at Jujutsu High

Word count: 1,520 words

(You guys are dating in this AU btw)

After the devastation from the Shibuya Incident, nothing felt certain anymore—not life, not purpose, even the future wasn’t certain. But in the aftermath of it all, amidst the dusty rubbles and the grief, something quiet began to grow between you and Megumi. What started off as an unspoken understanding during missions and moments shared between fights, became something deeper—something that neither of you had words for at first.

You aren’t just another sorcerer to him. You’re his anchor for whenever the world kept tearing itself apart. You were always there when he buried his rage deep, when he broke down behind the closed doors, when he blamed himself for everything that he couldn’t fix. And somehow, you never looked at him as if he was broken in those times. You look at him like he was human—still capable of learning, still worthy of being loved.

Now, with the chaos of the world still reeling and healing one step at a time, Megumi finds himself thinking about what would come next. Not just in the terms of battles or responsibility—but something softer, and more true. In the quiet spaces between all chaos, the bond you share with him had become undeniable. It’s not perfect, far from it, actually. But, It’s raw and unsure, for the both of you. Though, it’s also his and yours. And he’s finally brave enough to want it, to chase after your bond...

You find him in the courtyard again, seated beneath the sprawling sakura tree that stubbornly bloomed out of season. The petals fluttered around him, catching in his dark hair and falling onto the page of the open book resting in his lap. He didn’t look up when you approached.

He never did, but you always knew he noticed.

You:”You know,” you say softly, settling down beside him, “one day, I might as well just marry you.”

Megumi:”You won’t,” Megumi replies, flipping a page without glancing your way.

You smile.

You:“Confident, huh, really?”

Megumi:”…Just aware.”

It was hard to tell whether he was teasing or simply being Megumi. The corners of his mouth were too still, the flick of his gaze too subtle. But after months of grueling training and late-night missions with him, and even near-death experiences shared, you’d gotten better at reading right through him.

And he, somehow, had managed to have grown more comfortable letting you try get past his nonchalant tone, continuously.

You tilt your head back, staring up at the clear sky. It was washed deeply in lavender and soft gold, the kind of peace bringing dusk that felt like a hidden whisper between you and the world.

It was rare—peace. Even rarer with him, after what had gone on in Shibuya.

You:“You okay?” You ask Megumi, not pushing it, more so just offering. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately.”

Megumi:“I’m always quiet,” He mutters quietly.

You roll your eyes.

You:“Okay, fine. You’ve been extra quiet. Like… emotionally constipated quiet.”

That earned you a flicker of something—annoyance? No…was it amusement? Maybe it was a mix of both. Then, he shuts his book closed.

Megumi:”I’ve just been thinking...”

You:“ooo! Sounds dangerous.”

Megumi:”Shut up.”

You grinned and nudged his shoulder teasingly.

You:”Well…about what?”

He hesitates. You felt it so clearly, through the way his breath caught in his throat. The pause wasn’t just about finding more words—it was about deciding whether or not to let you in on it. You waited. You always waited for him. He’d come to realize that, appreciating it—not like he would ever tell you that to your face, or anything.

Megumi:”About what happens after all of this finally ends,” he said finally, voice low. “After the fighting. After Sukuna’s damage. If there’s even an after. More importantly…if we even make it out of this together.”

Your smile dwindles down. You look at him, really looking—at the soft tired lines beneath his stoic eyes, the way in which his hands curled a little tighter around the book’s hard spine, like he was bracing himself for something he couldn’t quite name.

You:”I think about that, too, y’know.” you said quietly.

His gaze met yours then. Steady. Like he was searching for something…but what?

Megumi:”tell me, what do you see?” he asks you.

You blink.

You:”What?”

Megumi:”In the after, after this is over. What do you see?”

You don’t really answer right away. There were a hundred—no, more than that—too many versions of “after” you could imagine, some hopeful, but some terrifying. Yet lately, there was one version lingering more than the others on your mind.

You:”I see a house,” you said slowly.

You pause for a moment.

You:”A quiet one—and maybe not too big. With tall and wide windows, a pretty garden in the back. A kitchen we barely use since you couldn’t cook to save your life—”

Megumi:”Excuse me?”

You:”Let me finish,” you laugh lightly.

At that, you grin to yourself.

You:”—and a bookshelf you try and pretend not to care about, but end up organizing every day anyways.”

Megumi didn’t say anything, but you notice the way his posture relaxes just a little bit.

You:”And…” you add, a little nervously.

You:“I see you there, as well. I don’t think I’d want it if you weren’t.”

His expression doesn’t change very much, but his silence softens. The kind of quiet that wasn’t avoidance, but a calming reflection.

Megumi:”I think about you, too,” he admits.

Megumi:“…In the after,” he adds on.

The words drop between you like hard stones in a still and deep pond.

You turn towards him, your heart hammered like a curse that was blooming in your chest, at this very moment.

You:“You do?”

He nods once. Then, more carefully, he says…“It’s weird...I didn’t think I’d be the kind of person who could want something like that.”

You:”Want something like what?”

He looks at you fully now. No hesitating. No retreating.

Megumi:”You.”

It was a simple word. One syllable. But it struck at you just like lightning, sudden and raw and so bright.

Your breath caught.

You:”Megumi…”

Megumi:”I don’t know how to say things like this,” he goes on, and you can hear the frustration that was edging in his voice.

Megumi:“I’ve never had a normal life. I don’t know if I deserve one. But whenever I think about the future, I try to picture something good—and…all I see is you. And I don’t even know what that means, or if I have the right to ask for it.”

You:”You do,” you say, immediately.

You:”You have every right, Megumi.”

Megumi:”I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

You:”You won’t.”

He looks away from you, and glances in the other direction.

Megumi:”You don’t know that.”

“No. But I do know this.” You lean in, close enough that your shoulders brush.

You:“Whatever comes, I want to face it all with you. Even if it might be terrifying. Even if it ends up hurting the both of us. I would rather have something real with you, however short or long, than spend my life by wishing I’d been brave enough to try it.”

Megumi turns quiet for a moment. The sky starts to turn deeper, the air cooler. But he doesn’t move away. And neither do you.

Then, slowly, almost like he was afraid of scaring you away, he reaches out and took your hand in his.

It was the first time he ever touched you like this—deliberate, not out of protection, or because of a mission, but just because he wanted to.

His hand feels warm. Solid. Trembling, just a little.

Megumi:”I don’t know how to do this.”

You:”You don’t have to,” you whisper. “Just let it happen.”

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. Then, very softly, he speaks…

Megumi:”Hey…do you think that I could ever—no, well, would you ever let me…kiss you?” He stammers, almost nervously.

Your heart stutters, then aches lightly in excitement.

You:”Yes, I would.”

And with that, Megumi slowly leans in, hesitantly. His hand lightly tracing your cheek, keeping your head facing his—as your lips pressed together, softly. Nervously.

The kiss was quite tentative at first. Gentle. That question was more than a question, it was a declaration. But the kiss deepens quickly, years of hesitation dissolving into the space between you two. His fingers tangle softly in your hair, your hand finds his chest—right where his heart had begun to thunder beneath heavy layers of calm exterior.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, he rests his forehead against yours.

Megumi:“I don’t know what the future holds,” he murmurs. “But I want to find it with you.”

You:“You will,” you say, gently closing your eyes. “We will.”

And for the first time in a long, long while, Megumi Fushiguro allows himself to believe you.

Just like that, your dreams and visions you had with Megumi…they finally feel true. It’s as if with him, anything could be possible for the both of you. Megumi had a way of often lighting up your day, without trying. Through his often seemingly cold and aloof demeanor, you knew that there was really just a boy who hoped for the future. And you were eager to be apart of it.

[h1r4-n7rr]

ғᴜsʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1: sᴛᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴀ sɴᴏᴡsᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇᴅ...

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,340 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

Part 2 is up!-07/31

You, and the other first years, got sent on a mission to Okinawa. Accompanied by Gojo, who jumped right at the opportunity, of course. It was a snowy and white day, the frosty air chilled into the atmosphere as you all approached the hotel. The current snowstorm in Okinawa raged on, seemingly endless. As you made your way up to your assigned hotel room, you shivered occasionally—the chilling breeze settling into the building…but, Yuji, Nobara, and Gojo had leaped right at the idea to set you up with Megumi.

Not wasting any time with the chances, Gojo announced that you had to share a hotel room with Megumi—keeping that stupid smug grin of his on his face, ordering you around. He knew you two were like polar opposites. You and Megumi seemed like fire and ice—you could never get on the right track of things. Despite clearly not getting along with each other, those three threw teasing comments at you both about your dynamic. Even shipping you together, you could say. So, here you were. Yuji and Nobara had ran off to their shared room, Gojo keeping to his own room. They had left you and Megumi stuck together in the last remaining hotel room.

After making your way to the room, you stand by Megumi at the opened door of the room, staring blankly at the single double bed—daunting in front of you two.

Megumi:“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” Megumi groans in irritation, looking at the bed with disbelief.

You sigh, staring at the bed in disbelief, too.

You:“Seriously…?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, clearly annoyed by the situation at hand.

Megumi:“This can’t be happening.”

You:”Tch…well, you better get used to it. Looks to me, that this is what’s happening.”

Megumi looks at you, his expression still neutral as ever, though he’s clearly annoyed.

Megumi:”This is ridiculous…” He grumbles, still looking at the bed. He stays quiet for a moment, before speaking again.

Megumi:“I can sleep on the floor…”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised he’s really willing to sleep on the floor instead. What’s he thinking? There’s no way it’s comfortable enough to sleep down there.

You:”You sure about that? Well…fine by me, I guess.”

Megumi nods, not looking very thrilled from the idea of sleeping on the floor. In his mind, at least it’s better than sharing a bed with you, of all people.

Megumi:”Yeah, I’ll take the floor.”

He walks toward a gap between the bed and the wall next to it, and lays down on the floor, leaning his back against the mattress of the bed.

You, and walk over to the double sided bed. Lying down on the soft mattress, hastily pulling the warm and soft blanket over yourself. Then, you look over at Megumi, and chuckle slightly, amused by the sight.

You:”Hey Fushiguro, you getting comfy over there, yet?”

Megumi rolls his eyes as you chuckle at him.

Megumi:”Oh yeah, real comfortable." He replies sarcastically, obviously not enjoying sleeping on the floor, especially not with this weather.

He stretches out his legs and rests his head back against the carpeted floor, trying to find a somewhat comfortable position.

You:”Well, have fun down there.”

You say as you turn to your side, laying your head against the soft and cushioned pillow.

Megumi lets out a sigh, watching you get comfortable on the bed.

Megumi:”Lucky you.." He mutters under his breath, still displeased at his sleeping arrangement.

He looks up at the ceiling, the sound of you shifting on the bed the only thing filling the silence.

You fall asleep shortly after, the chilly atmosphere slowly died down from the warmth of the air conditioning. The room fell completely silently, whilst the snowstorm raged on outside. The windows were tainted icy by their edges, overlooking the white sight of heavy and flowing snow fall.

Megumi watches you fall asleep, the sound of your breathing becoming softer and more even. He listens to the silence for a moment, and then shifts his focus onto himself.

He tries to make himself comfortable on the floor, but it's difficult. The hard floor is less than ideal, and the lack of a pillow doesn't make things any easier.

He sighs and closes his eyes, trying to get in some sleep.

…After some time, you wake up and see him up and about, hesitantly nudging at your shoulder once. Awakened by his nudge, you groan silently and wipe your eyes, looking over at him, while half asleep.

You:”What…? Geez, Megumi, go back to sleep. It’s still dark out.”

Megumi rolls his eyes at your grogginess.

Megumi:"I can't sleep." He says, his voice still carrying its usual deadpan tone.

Megumi:”The floor is uncomfortable as hell."

You:”So what exactly does that have to do with me, then?”

Megumi groans, running a hand through his hair.

Megumi:"Nothing, just…move over." He motions to the other side of the bed.

You chuckle slightly, before scooting over.

You:”I thought you were too good to sleep over here. What happened, huh?”

Megumi rolls his eyes again as you scoot over.

Megumi:"Shut up. I'm cold and tired." He grumbles, crawling onto the bed and lying down.

You:”Well, get some rest.” You say with a slight smirk, as you lay your head down on the pillow, pulling the blanket over the both of you.

Megumi lets out a sigh, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He's still not happy about being this close to you, but the bed is definitely more comfortable than the floor.

He glances over at you for a moment.

Megumi:"Just... don't snore."

You:”Me? Snoring? No way, gross! I don’t snore, actually.” You chuckle.

Megumi rolls his eyes once again, but there's a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Megumi:”Of course you don't." He says sarcastically.

Megumi:"You're perfect.” He adds on.

You:”Damn right I am! That’s the one thing you’ve gotten correct.”

Megumi actually lets out a small huff of laughter at that.

Megumi:"You're insufferable." He says, but there's no real malice in his voice.

You chuckle, and then lay your eyes shut, focusing more on falling asleep.

Megumi watches you settle back down, his expression returning to its usual neutral state.

He lays there quietly, listening to your soft breathing. The sound is surprisingly calming, and he finds himself relaxing a bit.

Within a few minutes, he feels himself drifting off to sleep.

You gasp slightly as you feel him topple to his side, facing your back, partly resting his head against your back. His hand unconsciously resting on top the side of your waist. You chuckle to yourself, and close your eyes once again.

As Megumi falls asleep, he unconsciously moves closer to you, his arm now resting on your waist.

His breathing becomes steady and even, his body completely relaxed.

You rest one hand on top of his, that was still rested on top your waist. Intertwining your fingers in his, hesitantly.

Megumi's hand instinctively clenches around your fingers, his grip tightening slightly. Even in his sleep, he seems to sense your touch.

He presses his face closer against your back, his breathing still steady and rhythmic.

Surprisingly, this felt comforting to you. Who would’ve thought you two would be in this close contact. Maybe those three—Nobara, Yuji, and Gojo…could see that this would happen. Of course they did! This would’ve been part of their plan to set you guys up, after all. Though, it might have been working on you…this closeness you shared with him right now, felt too good to be true. The warmth of his body radiating against you, his hand lazily caressing your waist, sliding back and forth. You both continue to sleep silently, embraced in each other’s warmth through the night. While the cold snow piled up, you found as if he was the thing that kept you warm. As he continued to lay curled up in a ball-like position, huddling against your back. It made you think that maybe, it wasn’t so hard for you two to get along, after all…

[h1r4-n7rr]

ɪᴛᴀᴅᴏʀɪ ʏᴜᴊɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ᴇx-ʙᴏʏғʀɪᴇɴᴅ... (1,770 words).

(This is my first time writing fan fiction, so please keep this in mind as you continue to read! I hope you enjoy taking a look at this.)

Yuji, your ex boyfriend whom you had split up with multiple times in the past—was begging you to take him in…once again. Making subtle attempts to get a chance to just talk to you, even for a second. To lock eyes with you, even if it was from afar. Usually, you’d expect him to come running back to your doorstep, pleading to you on his knees, by now. You two had a past, a history together. After so many long conversations—splitting apart after sharing memories together, just to show up for each other once again. It had been a few months since the last time you saw him in person, this was a good thing, right? You often thought that to yourself. You caught yourself reminiscing on the times you laughed together with him, going out with him on fun adventures, talking for hours—whether it was in person, or over FaceTimes and text messages. Despite it, you were over him. You were so sure of it. It had been months! You had to be over him by now, right?!

And, oh, were you wrong…

A quarter past midnight, you were sat on your living room couch. While tirelessly watching television as the TV’s bright lights soaked into your weary eyes. You felt relaxed, composed. Till your phone rang, buzzing loudly, a familiar number ID showing up on your screen—you recognized it as Yuji’s cell phone number, whilst letting out a deep sigh.

You hesitantly pick up the phone, pressing “answer” on your screen, awaiting your phone call from Yuji. Your mind dreading the possibilities, regretting answer the phone. Of course he’d call you at this hour, most likely, solely in an attempt to get back together with you. In a weak hope of rekindling what you two once had.

Soon after picking up the phone, you hear Yuji’s voice.

Yuji: “take me back, please…”

He whispered to your end of the line, slurring slightly. His voice filled with intoxication, his words sounding slurred. It was clear he was drunk—wasted, even. It was all so random. Your thoughts ran, the subtle sound of loud music playing from his side, vibrating ever so slightly through the line.

You hold the phone close to your ear, your heart thumping. You let out a frustrated sigh, instinctively shaking your head in disbelief. You answer softly…

You:”Yuji? What’s going on…are you drunk?!”

He groans after hearing you sigh, noting the disapproving tone in your voice. He chuckles, smirking hazily to himself—as if trying to hide the drunkenness in his tone, while failing, miserably.

Yuji:”oh pleaseeee…I’m not that drunk…”

As he spoke, you could faintly hear a voice in the background of the phone call, telling him to take another shot.

Before speaking, you chuckle to yourself. Reading him like an open book, you could tell how wasted he was, just by the sound of his voice.

You:”Don’t lie! I can tell you’re drunk, y’know?”

He groaned on the other end of the call, knowing you were right. His mind was clouded, hazy—far from thinking or acting properly. Things seemed difficult to grasp onto, so far out of his reach. He slumped himself against the counter of the bar he sat at, collapsing down onto his stool, closing his eyes for a moment—in an attempt to regain himself.

Yuji:”I just want to see you right now…please?”

He spoke in a whiny voice, his mind still hazed as his words slurred out his mouth. You could almost tell he had that puppy dog look in his eyes while saying that, the usual pleading kind. Practically begging you to take him in again, yearning for the familiarity of your presence, once again.

You take a deep sigh, a slight sympathetic swelling in your heart as it thumps nervously. You couldn’t help it, why were you so charmed by his demeanor? His playful, childish begging. What was it, that had you almost drawn to it all?

You:”You want me to pick you up…? I mean, there’s no way you could manage outside by yourself. Not when you’re wasted like this.”

Your voice laced with a hint of hesitation, with a small side of sympathy for him currently. You were right, there’s no way he could handle himself alone! With his pathetic, wasted state—he was sure to have done something outrageously stupid.

On the other line, he huffed softly, a hint of a subtle smile forming across his lips as he hears your offer. He could tell you were probably rolling your eyes at him right now, cursing him for getting himself into this.

Yuji:”Please?”

You:”Alright, alright…I‘ll be there. Just wait outside for me.”

And at that, Yuji nods softly to himself after hanging up on the call, reluctantly. He stood up slowly from his stool, unsteady on his feet as he walked towards the doors of the bar. Weaving through the crowds, he makes it outside. Immediately, the refreshing, yet subtly uneasy, cool night breeze hits him. He takes a deep breath, as he slumps against the doors, waiting impatiently, tiredly, for your arrival.

After driving for some time, you arrive near the bar. Parking against the marble side walks, looking around out your car window. As you spot Yuji, he had already spotted you. He runs a finger through his pink, messy hair. His head fuzzy from the alcohol. When he finally saw your car turning at the corner, he walks towards you, pushing himself weakly off the wall.

His legs were uncoordinated, but he managed to reach the car door of the front passenger seat. He opened the door, sliding in to the seat, practically throwing himself in. He closes the door, turning to you while giving you that lopsided drunken grin.

Yuji:”You actually came…”

You sigh deeply, nodding, rolling your eyes subtly. You look back at him, staring into his eyes. What was this feeling? Sympathy? Affection? No, it couldn’t have. You were over him, you were sure of it ever since your last time breaking contact with him. How could you have let it slip? Giving into him, once again, charmed by him. And here you were, locking eyes with him in the dead of the night.

He reached out and attempts to grab your hand, missing, as his hand lays down on your thigh instead. Instead of moving, or shifting—you let it happen, reluctantly. Not moving a muscle. Whilst he let out a soft groan in frustration, reaching up to your hand—this time, succeeding. You interlocked your fingers with his, your hands now intertwined with each other.

Yuji:”I missed you so much…”

You:”idiot..”

You mumble under your breath, softly.

Yuji, hearing your mumble, dramatically pouts, holding onto your hand tighter.

Yuji:”Hmph, I heard that, y’know…”

He said, sounding almost whiny, like a child. He lifts his other hand, swatting at you weakly.

You can’t help it, letting out an amused grin at his attempt.

You:”Calm down, alright! I get it.”

Yuji chuckles slightly, after spotting your grin. He sighs, leaning against his seat. Staring at you with a childish glare, his big eyes almost pouting right at you.

Yuji:”I really, really, missed you…I just wish things were the same!”

At that, something ignited in your chest. What was it?! It’s almost as if you were excited. Could it have been? You sigh, at the thought of him. Oh, how much you realized now, you did miss him.

You:”I…I miss you too. But things won’t ever be the same, it just won’t work out! It can’t be!”

Yuji almost feels swelling build up in his eyes, holding back a few subtle and light tears. He sighs deeply, his pout deepening. God, it drove you insane. That signature look of his, it was all too familiar. A weakness you refused to admit.

Yuji:”please, Just one more chance. I swear…I’ll make it all up to you, y/n. I just want to see you close to me again…”

You groan tiredly, an overwhelming sensation beating through you, your heart throbbing in a mix of anticipation and weary.

You:”We cant, Yuji. I can’t…I don’t wanna keep this going. Haven’t you noticed?! How it never gets anywhere. This cycle of drifting apart…and getting into contact later.”

You take a deep moment of silence, looking away nervously. Before speaking again, hesitantly and slowly. This time, softer, more vulnerable…

You:”whatever…forget it, Yuji. Let me just drive you home…so at least you’ll get home in one piece.”

Yuji sighs loudly, dramatically sinking into his seat. He lets go of your hand.

Yuji:”Fine…so this means it’s not happening this time, huh? Well…guess I’ll have to try harder next time I do something stupid, then.

He smirks widely at you, a hint of playful seriousness in his eyes.

Yuji:”you’ll have to get me again next time.”

With that, he lets out a laugh as you roll your eyes, holding back a smirk. You turn on the car’s engine, beginning to drive in the directions to his home—the images of his house practically imprinted on the back of your mind, filled with all the memories you had once shared with him in you’re past. Your eyes focused on the road, as you try your hardest to keep your guard up—eyes on the road, mind cleared, body steady.

After some time, you park steadily outside his home’s drive way. Turning to him, as you unlock the car doors.

You:”well…we’re here. Your house. Home, sweet home, huh?”

Yuji sighs, as he turns slightly to his car door, his hand hazily resting on the handle of the door.

Yuji:”Yeah…thanks for actually coming. Uh, see you some time later, y/n…it was nice seeing you.”

Those last words, “nice seeing you”…seemed to come out him so reluctantly, but with such sincerity…he pushes the car door open, heading up his porch, and inside his house—long out of your view. Whilst you close the car door, turning your engine back on, and driving off in the streets.

There was no turning back now…this time, you and him were over. Was it a fate long overdue? Or perhaps a false decision. Could there really have been hope to reignite things with Yuji?

Maybe you thought about it too much, you think to yourself as you drive alone in the cold and breezy night, the moonlit dark streets casting upon you in your car…

[rinskazuu]

→ that's not my name ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

synopsis. ꨄ︎ calling your bllk bf by his last name as a prank through text (you're just a silly lil gal)

featuring. ꨄ︎ fem!reader x sae, kaiser, otoya, karasu, bachira, reo, nagi, yukimiya, rin, aiku, isagi, ness, shidou, barou, kurona (separate)

includes. ꨄ︎ established relationship, crack, fluff, kaiser being a bitch (what's new), suggestive (slightly in sae's, kaiser, otoya, slightly in karasu's, slightly in aiku's), straight NSFW in shidou's, !!!SEWERSLIDE JOKES IN AIKU'S!!!, pet names, not proofread

notes. ꨄ︎ sorry for making some of these convos short, guys, i just wanted to include more characters <3 + changed ness's name because i did NOT realize ness was his surname, added some personal emojis for certain characters (isagi -> puzzle pc, ness -> magic wand), and changed nagi's pic. i'll probably change some pics and add some emojis too

edit: okay, guys. i looked it up online and got confirmation from the wiki that aiku is indeed his surname, so for those who have already seen this, i changed it. moral of the story: never doubt me because when i did, i was WRONG

♪ track. ꨄ︎ n/a

end notes. ꨄ︎ i'm so sorry guys if i butchered kurona's </3

join my taglist

tags. ꨄ︎ @idexmids

bllk masterlist | general masterlist

[kxsagi]

Just read the jealousy request and if requests are still open would you be able to do a request where the so!reader is talking to isagi post NEL about his harem (not actually jealous but teasing him about how he’s shipped with everyone in bllk) maybe some of the other members like bachira and hiori join in just to stir the pot lol

“𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐱 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩”

a/n: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, I LOVE THIS

you weren’t jealous. not even a little bit. but when your boyfriend trended for the fifth time that month under hashtags like “#rinsagi,” “#isagireo,” and god forbid “#kaisagi supremacy,” something in your soul snapped a little. 

you flopped face-first into the couch and groaned, “yoichi, why does everyone in blue lock want to kiss you?” 

he blinked, glancing over his shoulder with the most oblivious puppy eyes you’d ever seen. “huh? what do you mean?” 

you sat up, whipped your phone around, and shoved it in his face. “this, romeo. you're being shipped harder than amazon prime.” 

“… wait. is that a fanart of me and sae?!” 

“yep,” you said, popping the ‘p’. “and that one? you’re holding hands with kaiser while bachira cries in the background like a rejected ex.” 

“i wasn't even looking at him in that match!!” 

too late. the internet had already drawn the fanfics, made the edits, and assigned you the role of “tragic ex-girlfriend who doesn't understand his true connection with rin itoshi.” 

just as isagi opened his mouth to defend himself, your apartment door flung open like someone owed rent. 

“HEYYY~” bachira beamed, dramatically stepping in with hiori right behind him. “did someone say isagi's harem?” 

“no one said that,” isagi muttered. 

“she did,” hiori said helpfully, pointing at you. “she’s jealous. it’s kinda cute.” 

“i’m not jealous,” you retorted, grabbing a throw pillow and launching it across the room like a grenade. “i’m just confused why everyone wants a piece of my man when he literally says things like ‘i wanna devour you’ mid-game like some villain in a shounen.” 

“hey!” isagi frowned. “that was cool.” 

“bro,” bachira said, flopping onto the floor. “you literally looked kaiser in the eye and said ‘i’ll make you mine.’ mine, yoichi. do you know how gay that sounds?” 

“competitive gay,” hiori added, nodding sagely. “it’s different.” 

you stared at your boyfriend who was now red from the neck up. “do i need to start carrying around a sign that says ‘he has a girlfriend’ or…” 

“probably,” hiori said. 

“absolutely,” bachira agreed. “i’ve seen the tiktoks. they call you a ‘plot device’ now.” 

“… what the hell does that even mean?!” 

“means you’re in the way of true love,” bachira whispered dramatically, placing a hand on your shoulder. “the love between isagi and barou, who only growled at him three times last match instead of four.” 

“okay, first of all,” isagi cut in, voice breaking from sheer panic, “barou literally tried to fight me–” 

“yes,” hiori sighed. “so romantic.” 

you were crying laughing now, wheezing into the couch cushions as isagi sat there, betrayed by everyone he once loved. he threw his hands in the air, finally giving up. 

“fine. whatever. i’ll just go marry kaiser and let the fandom be happy.” 

bachira perked up. “can i be your maid of honor?” 

“you’re not helping!” 

“yoichi,” you said sweetly, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “just tell the world you love me.” 

“i do love you!” 

“not convincingly enough if rin and reo are still thirst-posting about you in the comment sections.” 

bachira gasped. “reo does comment a lot under your photos…” 

hiori nodded. “usually heart eyes. or a rose emoji.” 

“… i need to go lie down,” isagi muttered. 

you reached out and patted his thigh. “it’s okay, babe. i’ll protect you from your boyfriends.” 

“they’re not my boyfriends!!” 

somewhere in the distance, your phone buzzed with a notification. 

new tweet: 

“@kaisermichaelofficial: he’s mine. 🫦 #isagiser #kaisagi #yoichilicious” 

you held the phone up again, smirking. isagi stared at it. then stared at the ceiling. 

“i hate it here.” 

bachira threw an arm around him. “don’t worry, yoichi. we all love you. too much.” 

hiori patted his back like he was a war veteran. “may your next goal be less gay.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢