𑣲angel , she her , high school student + wannabe writer ׂׂૢ
playing in my headphones;; wave to earth, ariana grande, frank sinatra, lana del rey, taylor swift, madonna, the smiths, the beatles, mazzy star, clairo, jeff buckley 🎵 . . .
what’s on tv?;; the pitt, jjk, death note, twilight, coraline, challengers, little women, gilmore girls, bloodhounds, atla, 27 dresses, legally blonde . . .
“first kiss” ; combining your hangout with yuji with your own study time was a mistake to begin with. the poor boy just wanted to spend time with you and yet he was left ignored for some homework you had to catch up on…at least for a bit—his boredom weighed heavy on your conscious and you found yourself taking a break just for him. one moment you were talking, making plans of ordering food and playing games, and then the next? you were kissing your best friend.
pairing : yuji x nerdy!fem!reader
content warnings : non-canon plot, childhood friends to lovers, reader and yuji are written as juniors in highschool! (nothing icky!), themes of jealousy and possessiveness, light sprinkle of angst, fluff, kissing/making out, reader is described as an academic perfectionist, lovesick!yuji, he fell first and he fell harder, first kiss, confessions from both parties
word count : 2k
angel’s notes : a little fluffy, puppy love yuji fic while i continue to work on pt. 2 of “ghost girl” 🧁
The sound of graphite scribbling against paper, the focus in your eyes as you scrolled through your notes from a class you had earlier missed, and the precision in your fingers as you wrote were all things Yuji Itadorii absolutely despised. He used to admire your dedication to your academics, praise you whenever you would bashfully hold up your latest exam paper—a huge “A+” in red ink neatly printed in the corner, but now? Now he hated your drive—your stupid work ethic and your desire to be perfect because in that moment it was the only thing keeping you from hanging out with him.
However, he had brought this onto himself. The sole reason you had missed a class to be taking down notes and completing assignments in the first place was because you had been sick that day, bedridden with a icepack on your forehead and a pile of blankets on top of you. It was the worst day of your life—the first absence of the year, perfect attendance ruined. What was even worse was that day—that exact day you had also promised you’d go out with Yuji. He had made plans of slurping ramen together, playing arcade games, and then falling asleep on his bed as if you both had just come home from a 9-5.
Unfortunately, the only thing you had completed from that list was staying wrapped in your blankets—alone.
“Are you done yet?” Yuji whispered, for the umpteenth time now. He had been hovering by your side, sitting beside you while you worked at your desk.
You ultimately felt bad for leaving the poor boy waiting, imagining his pouty lips and hopeless expression—it was too much to handle, and he knew he had that advantage over you. His puppy eyes were something you could never deny, but you also couldn’t ignore your work. Both weighed heavy in your head, and so…you combined them.
“Yuji, you asked me that same exact question 35 seconds ago. This hangout was only a suggestion, you could’ve waited an extra day for me to finish work so that I could have a day completely for you.” You sighed, setting your pencil down before looking up at him, a mix of impatience and longing written all over his face.
“But I didn’t wanna…you spent too long away from me anyway.” He murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. He sounded almost…heartbroken. “I thought maybe we could’ve alternated? A bit of work, a bit of Yuji, a bit of work…and then a little more of Yuji—not work, work, work and then just as you’re about to fall asleep—Yuji time!” He added, shoulders deflating as he listened to your sighs.
“I…” You found yourself at a loss for words, perhaps it was a bit selfish to plan this and then barely glance over at the boy who had been counting down the minutes until this moment.
“I’m sorry, Yuji.”
His gaze locked onto yours the moment the apology left your lips, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
“No-No, I mean don’t apologize—“
“I should. I mean I’ve been ignoring you almost this entire time and…I’m sorry.” You mumbled, slowly getting up from your desk, closing the small gap between the both of you. You towered over him, a small yet tired smile curling the corners of your lips.
“Let’s do what you want. I can…I can finish this up early tomorrow morning.”
“You’re gonna wake up early on a Saturday?”
“Mhm.”
“For me..?” His voice quieted, an almost imperceptible pink hue darkening the tips of his ears. Was he really feeling this bashful now?
“Don’t be shy about it.” You chuckled, “Come on. You wanna order takeout? I could ask my mom. Could play some games while we wait?”
Yuji’s lips immediately curved up the moment you spoke, a cheek squishing, eye crinkling grin taking up his entire face. “Really? Are you sure? I know school means a lot to you.”
“I can make an exception for a friend.”
“Y-yeah, friend.” Yuji replied, nodding his head slowly, trying to convince himself that the title you bestowed upon him didn’t hurt. Just a bit.
It pained and simultaneously amazed him that even with your prodigal skills you still couldn’t tell the way he felt about you. How his heart skipped beats when you’d made eye contact with him, how his fingers gripped onto the side of his chair so hard it left marks in his skin the moment you stood up and inched closer, how the second you spoke an apology to him he felt his entire body collapse.
“How do wings and fries sound, hm?”
“Oh, yeah. Sounds good.” He replied, placing his hands in his lap, rhythmically tapping his fingers against his thigh as a way to attempt to control himself.
“Mkay, be right back! Gonna get my mom’s card.”
You closed your notebooks, packed your pencils, and shut off your laptop before exiting the room, the sound of you slowly padding down the stairs echoing in Yuji’s mind. Who was he kidding? When were you ever not occupying his headspace. You were in everything he saw, in everywhere he went. In the snacks he saw at the convenience store that he knew you loved, in the books he’d have to read in English class knowing that you’d already read them. He thought of your favorite parts, your favorite authors, your favorite…anything, really. He wanted to be the one to know, the one to have the privilege to finally call you his. Yuji Itadori was infatuated with you and yet you unknowingly forced him to suppress it—but he’d wait. He’d wait 1, 5, 10 years if he had to, it was better than watching someone take you from him.
“Ordered!” You walked back into your bedroom, shaking Yuji from his lovesick daydream. “You alright?”
“Y-yeah, just waiting for you.”
You smiled softly, approaching him slowly before ruffling up his hair. “I’m here now.” You giggled, “If you miss me this much now I wonder how you’ll survive when we go to college.”
College? Yuji hadn’t thought about College…
Would you meet someone better than him there? You’d most likely be going to a top school—would you find someone smarter than him? Your sentence had sent him into a spiral, a spiral that he couldn’t mask for the first time. He didn’t even want to imagine only being able to see you during the holidays—Oh God, didn’t you realize you were killing him?
“College?”
“Yeah. You are planning to go aren’t you?” You replied, walking towards your bed before plopping down onto the plush mattress, your eyes glued to his unreadable expression.
“Yuji..?”
“Yeah. Yeah I wanna go.” He sighed, his tone somewhat melancholic. “I just was thinking about how we wouldn’t be able to see each other as much then. Our lives would become so busy we’d barely have time.”
“How…pessimistic. That’s unlike you.”
Yuji suddenly got up from his chair, talking as he slid into the spot beside you, moving pillows just to get closer.
“Promise not to forget me?” He whispered, those same brown doe eyes staring up at you with so much emotion, so many words exchanged between a single look. It changed the entire mood of the room, the shake in Yuji’s voice causing your own to waver.
“Of course, h-how could I not..?”
“Even when you get a boyfriend?”
What?
“Yuji, where is this coming from? You’ve never said something like this.”
“Say you won’t.” He pleaded, placing his forehead against your shoulder, his palm slowly sliding up your thigh before landing on top of your hand.
“I-I will miss you—“
“No. Say…say you won’t get a boyfriend.” He couldn’t even look at you as he said it, the heat from his skin warming you hotter than any blanket ever could. Yuji, he had never spoken like this, had never held you so desperately yet so gently that it made your cheeks burn and heart beat faster then it ever had in your life.
“I won’t get a boyfriend.”
“Do you mean it?” He pressed his chin against your shoulder, his proximity alone forcing you to look down at him.
“I mean it…I won’t.”
His gaze fell from your own to your nose to your lips, the look in his eyes something from a movie. He looked beautiful, so pathetically beautiful.
He whispered your name like a prayer, his hand carefully sliding up your stomach, your collarbone, to your cheek. His hand held you with so much care. In his eyes you were carefully crafted. Fragile like glass. This was the only way to hold you, and anyone who dared to treat you rougher shouldn’t have had the opportunity to touch you in the first place.
Yuji moved closer, lifting his head ever so slightly—just enough that his mouth was a mere centimeter from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll go home and you don’t have to speak to me. I’ll leave you alone and—“
“Please kiss me.” You squeaked, breath puffing out softly against his lips. “Yuji, please.”
You said his name so sweetly as if it were a whispered secret, a wish that you wanted only him to know about. He couldn’t control whatever happened after that.
His mouth pressed against yours instantly, a slow yet passionate touch of lips that had your head spinning and heart screaming. You thought it would be different. You thought Yuji would be impatient, a bit rugged, and quick paced—but you were wrong, and this time you were glad you had been.
Yuji kissed you as if he had been waiting for it his entire life, hands carefully caressing your skin. The only word you could use to describe the experience was reverent. Yuji’s soft touches, his tiny whimpers against your lips—it was perfect.
You were happy he was your first kiss, at least now you could confidently say your first was your best, and everyone knew you never forgot a first.
“Y-yuji..?”
He gradually pulled away, resting his chin back on the top of your shoulder. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”
“No—Gosh, no. You did…it was nice. It was really nice.”
“Good.” He exhaled, a small smile painting his features. “You scared me a bit, thought I did a bad job” he chuckled, watching as you struggled to repress your own smile.
“I guess now I’ve made sure you won’t forget me.”
“How could I ever forget someone I love so much?” You murmured, noticing his spine straighten, his head lifting up.
“Love?”
You nodded your head, suddenly looking away from him now. Who knew confessing even after a kiss was so humiliating…
“Say it again. Say it again and look at me, please?”
“I can’t look.” You whispered, your face unable to cool back down. You knew if you made eye contact with him again you’d lose it.
“Then…just “I love you?”
With a quiet voice, you said it once more. Properly this time. “I love you, Yuji.”
He pressed his lips against your neck, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that, imagined it so many times my own brain got mad at me.” He whispered, hands wrapping back around your waist.
“I love you more. I have always loved you.”
That night, instead of playing games you both had cuddled in your bed after eating, simply talking to each other, enjoying one another’s presence.
Even though he’d known you almost all his life he still listened to you like it was the first time, intently analyzing each of your features, kissing your lips mid sentence just to hear you stutter and forget where you were in your story. In the end it was worth the wait, and he’d do it all over again because this time he knew—he knew you’d be in his arms, calling him “Yu”, whispering in his ear, laughing at his jokes so hard you could barely breathe.
“first kiss” ; combining your hangout with yuji with your own study time was a mistake to begin with. the poor boy just wanted to spend time with you and yet he was left ignored for some homework you had to catch up on…at least for a bit—his boredom weighed heavy on your conscious and you found yourself taking a break just for him. one moment you were talking, making plans of ordering food and playing games, and then the next? you were kissing your best friend.
pairing : yuji x nerdy!fem!reader
content warnings : non-canon plot, childhood friends to lovers, reader and yuji are written as juniors in highschool! (nothing icky!), themes of jealousy and possessiveness, light sprinkle of angst, fluff, kissing/making out, reader is described as an academic perfectionist, lovesick!yuji, he fell first and he fell harder, first kiss, confessions from both parties
word count : 2k
angel’s notes : a little fluffy, puppy love yuji fic while i continue to work on pt. 2 of “ghost girl” 🧁
The sound of graphite scribbling against paper, the focus in your eyes as you scrolled through your notes from a class you had earlier missed, and the precision in your fingers as you wrote were all things Yuji Itadorii absolutely despised. He used to admire your dedication to your academics, praise you whenever you would bashfully hold up your latest exam paper—a huge “A+” in red ink neatly printed in the corner, but now? Now he hated your drive—your stupid work ethic and your desire to be perfect because in that moment it was the only thing keeping you from hanging out with him.
However, he had brought this onto himself. The sole reason you had missed a class to be taking down notes and completing assignments in the first place was because you had been sick that day, bedridden with a icepack on your forehead and a pile of blankets on top of you. It was the worst day of your life—the first absence of the year, perfect attendance ruined. What was even worse was that day—that exact day you had also promised you’d go out with Yuji. He had made plans of slurping ramen together, playing arcade games, and then falling asleep on his bed as if you both had just come home from a 9-5.
Unfortunately, the only thing you had completed from that list was staying wrapped in your blankets—alone.
“Are you done yet?” Yuji whispered, for the umpteenth time now. He had been hovering by your side, sitting beside you while you worked at your desk.
You ultimately felt bad for leaving the poor boy waiting, imagining his pouty lips and hopeless expression—it was too much to handle, and he knew he had that advantage over you. His puppy eyes were something you could never deny, but you also couldn’t ignore your work. Both weighed heavy in your head, and so…you combined them.
“Yuji, you asked me that same exact question 35 seconds ago. This hangout was only a suggestion, you could’ve waited an extra day for me to finish work so that I could have a day completely for you.” You sighed, setting your pencil down before looking up at him, a mix of impatience and longing written all over his face.
“But I didn’t wanna…you spent too long away from me anyway.” He murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. He sounded almost…heartbroken. “I thought maybe we could’ve alternated? A bit of work, a bit of Yuji, a bit of work…and then a little more of Yuji—not work, work, work and then just as you’re about to fall asleep—Yuji time!” He added, shoulders deflating as he listened to your sighs.
“I…” You found yourself at a loss for words, perhaps it was a bit selfish to plan this and then barely glance over at the boy who had been counting down the minutes until this moment.
“I’m sorry, Yuji.”
His gaze locked onto yours the moment the apology left your lips, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
“No-No, I mean don’t apologize—“
“I should. I mean I’ve been ignoring you almost this entire time and…I’m sorry.” You mumbled, slowly getting up from your desk, closing the small gap between the both of you. You towered over him, a small yet tired smile curling the corners of your lips.
“Let’s do what you want. I can…I can finish this up early tomorrow morning.”
“You’re gonna wake up early on a Saturday?”
“Mhm.”
“For me..?” His voice quieted, an almost imperceptible pink hue darkening the tips of his ears. Was he really feeling this bashful now?
“Don’t be shy about it.” You chuckled, “Come on. You wanna order takeout? I could ask my mom. Could play some games while we wait?”
Yuji’s lips immediately curved up the moment you spoke, a cheek squishing, eye crinkling grin taking up his entire face. “Really? Are you sure? I know school means a lot to you.”
“I can make an exception for a friend.”
“Y-yeah, friend.” Yuji replied, nodding his head slowly, trying to convince himself that the title you bestowed upon him didn’t hurt. Just a bit.
It pained and simultaneously amazed him that even with your prodigal skills you still couldn’t tell the way he felt about you. How his heart skipped beats when you’d made eye contact with him, how his fingers gripped onto the side of his chair so hard it left marks in his skin the moment you stood up and inched closer, how the second you spoke an apology to him he felt his entire body collapse.
“How do wings and fries sound, hm?”
“Oh, yeah. Sounds good.” He replied, placing his hands in his lap, rhythmically tapping his fingers against his thigh as a way to attempt to control himself.
“Mkay, be right back! Gonna get my mom’s card.”
You closed your notebooks, packed your pencils, and shut off your laptop before exiting the room, the sound of you slowly padding down the stairs echoing in Yuji’s mind. Who was he kidding? When were you ever not occupying his headspace. You were in everything he saw, in everywhere he went. In the snacks he saw at the convenience store that he knew you loved, in the books he’d have to read in English class knowing that you’d already read them. He thought of your favorite parts, your favorite authors, your favorite…anything, really. He wanted to be the one to know, the one to have the privilege to finally call you his. Yuji Itadori was infatuated with you and yet you unknowingly forced him to suppress it—but he’d wait. He’d wait 1, 5, 10 years if he had to, it was better than watching someone take you from him.
“Ordered!” You walked back into your bedroom, shaking Yuji from his lovesick daydream. “You alright?”
“Y-yeah, just waiting for you.”
You smiled softly, approaching him slowly before ruffling up his hair. “I’m here now.” You giggled, “If you miss me this much now I wonder how you’ll survive when we go to college.”
College? Yuji hadn’t thought about College…
Would you meet someone better than him there? You’d most likely be going to a top school—would you find someone smarter than him? Your sentence had sent him into a spiral, a spiral that he couldn’t mask for the first time. He didn’t even want to imagine only being able to see you during the holidays—Oh God, didn’t you realize you were killing him?
“College?”
“Yeah. You are planning to go aren’t you?” You replied, walking towards your bed before plopping down onto the plush mattress, your eyes glued to his unreadable expression.
“Yuji..?”
“Yeah. Yeah I wanna go.” He sighed, his tone somewhat melancholic. “I just was thinking about how we wouldn’t be able to see each other as much then. Our lives would become so busy we’d barely have time.”
“How…pessimistic. That’s unlike you.”
Yuji suddenly got up from his chair, talking as he slid into the spot beside you, moving pillows just to get closer.
“Promise not to forget me?” He whispered, those same brown doe eyes staring up at you with so much emotion, so many words exchanged between a single look. It changed the entire mood of the room, the shake in Yuji’s voice causing your own to waver.
“Of course, h-how could I not..?”
“Even when you get a boyfriend?”
What?
“Yuji, where is this coming from? You’ve never said something like this.”
“Say you won’t.” He pleaded, placing his forehead against your shoulder, his palm slowly sliding up your thigh before landing on top of your hand.
“I-I will miss you—“
“No. Say…say you won’t get a boyfriend.” He couldn’t even look at you as he said it, the heat from his skin warming you hotter than any blanket ever could. Yuji, he had never spoken like this, had never held you so desperately yet so gently that it made your cheeks burn and heart beat faster then it ever had in your life.
“I won’t get a boyfriend.”
“Do you mean it?” He pressed his chin against your shoulder, his proximity alone forcing you to look down at him.
“I mean it…I won’t.”
His gaze fell from your own to your nose to your lips, the look in his eyes something from a movie. He looked beautiful, so pathetically beautiful.
He whispered your name like a prayer, his hand carefully sliding up your stomach, your collarbone, to your cheek. His hand held you with so much care. In his eyes you were carefully crafted. Fragile like glass. This was the only way to hold you, and anyone who dared to treat you rougher shouldn’t have had the opportunity to touch you in the first place.
Yuji moved closer, lifting his head ever so slightly—just enough that his mouth was a mere centimeter from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll go home and you don’t have to speak to me. I’ll leave you alone and—“
“Please kiss me.” You squeaked, breath puffing out softly against his lips. “Yuji, please.”
You said his name so sweetly as if it were a whispered secret, a wish that you wanted only him to know about. He couldn’t control whatever happened after that.
His mouth pressed against yours instantly, a slow yet passionate touch of lips that had your head spinning and heart screaming. You thought it would be different. You thought Yuji would be impatient, a bit rugged, and quick paced—but you were wrong, and this time you were glad you had been.
Yuji kissed you as if he had been waiting for it his entire life, hands carefully caressing your skin. The only word you could use to describe the experience was reverent. Yuji’s soft touches, his tiny whimpers against your lips—it was perfect.
You were happy he was your first kiss, at least now you could confidently say your first was your best, and everyone knew you never forgot a first.
“Y-yuji..?”
He gradually pulled away, resting his chin back on the top of your shoulder. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”
“No—Gosh, no. You did…it was nice. It was really nice.”
“Good.” He exhaled, a small smile painting his features. “You scared me a bit, thought I did a bad job” he chuckled, watching as you struggled to repress your own smile.
“I guess now I’ve made sure you won’t forget me.”
“How could I ever forget someone I love so much?” You murmured, noticing his spine straighten, his head lifting up.
“Love?”
You nodded your head, suddenly looking away from him now. Who knew confessing even after a kiss was so humiliating…
“Say it again. Say it again and look at me, please?”
“I can’t look.” You whispered, your face unable to cool back down. You knew if you made eye contact with him again you’d lose it.
“Then…just “I love you?”
With a quiet voice, you said it once more. Properly this time. “I love you, Yuji.”
He pressed his lips against your neck, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that, imagined it so many times my own brain got mad at me.” He whispered, hands wrapping back around your waist.
“I love you more. I have always loved you.”
That night, instead of playing games you both had cuddled in your bed after eating, simply talking to each other, enjoying one another’s presence.
Even though he’d known you almost all his life he still listened to you like it was the first time, intently analyzing each of your features, kissing your lips mid sentence just to hear you stutter and forget where you were in your story. In the end it was worth the wait, and he’d do it all over again because this time he knew—he knew you’d be in his arms, calling him “Yu”, whispering in his ear, laughing at his jokes so hard you could barely breathe.
People always talked about Sukuna like he was intimidating. Too tall, too serious, tattoos crawling up his arms, piercings, and that permanent annoyed expression. But nobody ever mentioned his hands.
It happened randomly. You were stretched out on his couch while he worked on an assignment, his laptop balanced on his knee. Yuji was asleep in the other room after refusing bedtime three separate times. You weren’t even doing anything, just lying there with your cheek against the armrest, watching him.
His sleeves were rolled up, and his hands moved over the keyboard. You stared for too long because they did not match him.
Not really.
His knuckles had tiny pale lines across them, old cuts. One thicker scar sat near the base of his thumb. His nails were short and uneven, and the skin around his joints was dry. His fingers looked rough and used. Not ugly. Just worked.
Warehouse shifts, carrying boxes, opening things with his hands because he never bothered getting tools, cooking, washing dishes, holding Yuji’s tiny shoes while yelling at him to stand still, fixing Choso’s bike, and probably carrying too much for too long.
You looked down at your own hands, soft with little rings and tiny scars from paper cuts and cooking, and suddenly your chest hurt.
Sukuna glanced over. “Why are you staring.”
You blinked. “Nothing.”
“That face means something.”
You shook your head, and he went back to typing. Two minutes later, you spoke again. “Why are your hands like that?”
He stopped typing and slowly looked at you. “What does that mean.”
You sat up. “No, like…” You reached over and took one of his hands before he could pull away. He let you. You turned it over in your lap, his palm warm and rough. You traced one of the scars with your thumb.
“You work too hard.”
He stared at you, then looked away. “What.”
Your throat felt strange. You laughed awkwardly. “I dunno. I just… I don't know.” You pressed your thumb into his palm, and suddenly your eyes stung.
He noticed immediately. His expression shifted. “Oi.”
You looked away, and he responded by closing the laptop. “Why are you crying?”
“M’not.”
“You are.”
You sniffed, and it sounded ridiculous even to you. You whispered, “I just got sad.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “About my hand.”
You nodded once.
He looked genuinely confused. You swallowed. “I know this is dumb,” you murmured, tracing another scar. “But every time I see stuff like this, I think you do too much.”
His face stayed blank, so you kept going quietly.
“You work all day. You raise Yuji and Cho. You always pay. You fix everything, and…” Your voice softened. “Your hands look tired.”
Silence settled between you. Sukuna looked at you, then at his own hand resting in yours. For a moment, something in his expression shifted. Not dramatically, just a flicker of surprise, like nobody had ever looked at him and thought about him instead of what he could do.
He scoffed under his breath. “You’re weird.”
You nodded sadly. “I know.”
He stared at you for a few more seconds, then turned his hand and closed his fingers around yours. You froze. He looked away, the tips of his ears faintly pink.
“They’re just hands.”
You looked at him and whispered, “No.”
When his eyes flicked back to you, you smiled softly. “They look like someone whose been trying really hard.”
His jaw tightened, the way it always did, like affection made him uncomfortable. Then he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into him. You made a small, confused sound as he pressed your forehead against his shoulder.
“Stop looking at me like I’m dying.”
You laughed weakly. “M’ not.”
His hand rubbed your back once, slow and awkward. Then, quieter, he said, “It is not that bad.”
You nodded against him.
But later, when he was asleep, you held one of his hands against your cheek and thought that next time he came over, you were buying hand cream. Not because he needed it, but because somebody should take care of the hands that take care of everyone else.
Also, my sign to buy hand cream bc why tf are my hands so rough😭😭 Finally wrote something up, exams have literally drained my balls blue, I'm so DONE!!
“ghost girl” ; satoru gojo—the absolute bane of your existence since the ninth grade was the last person you expected to see at a frat party your best friend had taken you to, but what you expected even less was to end up in his bedroom by the end of the night. . .
pairing : frat!gojo x mute!fem!reader
content warnings : reader is referred to as “angel” as a nickname multiple times, mentions of bullying, low self-esteem + worth, themes of emotional vulnerability and dependency, implied depression, angst -> fluff
word count : 5k
angel’s notes : first ever fic i have ever written ohemgee! hope some girlies like it and please lmk if i missed any tags! i’ll be working on part 2 sometime this week, yay!🧁
Tiny vanilla particles fell onto your pillow, the strong yet sweet scent tickling your nose as you sat on your bed, listening to your closest friend speak about her day as she got ready. It might seem like an odd thing to like to do—listen to someone talk for a long while—she’s even asked if you ever got bored with her, but you always reassured her with a shake of your head, smiling as she got right back to her rambling.
Maybe it was because you couldn’t speak that you loved the experience of hearing everyone else. Their voice, their tones, how you could instantly tell their mood based on how they sounded. You’d have to say your favorite emotion was excitement—that was when you could really hear their voices shake, how they would barely be able to get their words out because they couldn’t control themselves, the stuttering, the smiles you didn’t even have to see to know were there. It was beautiful to have so much emotion and happiness in your words you couldn’t contain it. That you couldn’t wait to share it.
“Why won’t you come with me?” Miya spoke, spraying one last spritz of her perfume—unknowingly causing you to sneeze. Once again.
Miya was a party girl. She was the one everyone looked at when you both walked into a room, the one who used to have her locker flooded with love letters in high school, and the one who met you when you were sobbing in the bathroom. You were surprised she’d heard the tiny little sniffles at all, but what you were even more shocked about was the way she comforted you. The way she patiently waited for you to take your notes app out and type for her to understand. You’d never thought she’d even look your way, not with the way everyone would speak about you. Poke fun since you couldn’t articulate words. Speak. A quiet ghost that haunted the school instead of a normal girl. That’s all you ever wanted. To be normal—to have lots of friends that would go out shopping with you, teachers who’d smile when you raised your hand in class and not frown. Maybe even a boyfriend, but that was wistful thinking. A boyfriend would want to hear his girlfriend say I love you to him not type it in on their phone.
“Are you daydreaming while I’m talking? I told you to tell me if you get bored!” Miya chuckled, snapping you out of your thoughts as she so always did. You never complained, you were grateful you had her to remind you, you were still here on earth and not in some far, far away land where this was all a dream…
You shook your head, slowly curling your legs to your chest while she walked over towards your shared vanity, picking up a heart shaped palette of blush before carefully dusting the pink powder over the apples of her cheeks.
“I know you don’t like going to these kinds of things, but it could be our first one!” She squealed, the noise immediately eliciting a smile from you. The smallest of things seemed to excite her and it always amazed you how she never ran out of energy—even after a long night.
“We’re college girls now! Let’s have our first party together. Pleasepleaseplease!” She looked over at you, her hair perfectly done as always. Shiny and perfect. When was she not?
You looked up at her, playfully raising an eyebrow as you stuck up one of your fingers.
She let out a little noise of faux exhaustion, exchanging the blush for lipgloss before applying it to her lips. “Well…maybe not my first party, but it’s my first college one! That counts! New year new me. Basically.”
A soft, deflated sigh left her lips as she put down the makeup in her hands, sending you a pouty look. “Please, Angel? Pleasepleaseplease? I’ll miss you too much if I go alone—and what if something happens to you!?” Miya quickly made her way to your side of the bed, flipping off the heels she’d put on mere minutes ago just to cuddle in and persuade you.
She held onto your arm, cheek against your shoulder as she spoke.
“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” She whispered, slowly looking up at you. Those eyes—those mischievous, brown eyes were the same reason you’d gotten into so much trouble back in sophomore year and yet you couldn’t say no to them. Even now.
With a hesitant sigh you nodded your head, watching the exact millisecond her eyes and smile widened. “Really? Do you mean it? Yes!—There’s just 30 minutes until it starts, but we can be fashionably late! Everyone knows you always come late to frat parties anyways, y’know? It’s how they work.”
You watched her go on, walking from your closet to hers and then back to the vanity, picking out shoes, makeup, accessories—mostly from her own closet—before dumping them all onto your bed.
“Try it on! I have a vision, Angel.”
She looked at you with expectant eyes, giggling to herself the moment you got up and dragged yourself into the bathroom, items in hand.
She was happy—it was all that mattered. All these years you thought you burdened her with the weight of being friends with the “ghost girl”. You’d never admit it, but when she approached you so many years ago, knocking against the stall you were trying to contain your tears in—you thought it was a prank. That any moment her friends would rush in and they’d take pictures, post you on social media—but it never happened. She helped you on what could’ve only been described as the worst day of your life.
“You done in there? C’mon I wanna see!” Her voice rang out even through the bathroom door, luring you out of your nostalgic thinking.
You hit the door back twice, signaling you were ready before tentatively opening it—a look of embarrassment etching your features as soon as you stepped out.
“Ohmygosh!”
Beautiful baby pink and white fabrics adorned your body, the tiered, low cut dress fitting you perfectly along with the thin cardigan she pulled from your own closet. It felt right. Comfortable. You felt…pretty. Maybe it’s because it was hers or because you were actually going out for once, whatever it was—you just couldn’t stop smiling.
“Angel, you look perfect.” Miya took your hand, pulling you in close before giving you a slow spin.
“Like a princess.” She chuckled, her voice suddenly cracking.
You made eye contact with her, watching her fan her hands at her eyes. “Look at me! You’re making me cry!” She laughed through her blurry vision, “I’m gonna mess up my makeup!”
She was…crying? Because of you?
“My baby’s all grown up.” She smiled, taking a step closer, her fingers carefully intertwining with yours.
You guess you really were her…baby. She took you in, laughing with you at every mistake you made, scolding you whenever you couldn’t stick up for yourself—and then yelling at the ones who said things to you. She was the first person to do that. To admit they care and mean it, to stick by you through every chapter of your life. She knew you better than you knew yourself.
Miya held you for a few more seconds, squeezing your hand one last time before breaking away.
“Alright…now how do we feel about makeup?”
You put up two fingers, signaling you wanted just a tiny bit.
“Ah, alright…I’ll let it slide. Just this once. Next time we’re going all out!”
…Next time?
She guided you back towards the vanity, settling you in before spinning the chair towards her. “Now what are we thinkin’? Natural? Soft Glam?”
You held up one finger, letting her know you wanted the first option before folding your hands together in your lap.
“Got it!”
Indeed, Miya did have it. Natural makeup isn’t much, but she sure did know how to make you feel beautiful. It was a nice base with some lashes, lipgloss, and a touch of blush—but you couldn’t stop looking at yourself, wiping the edges of your lips and such.
“Good?”
You immediately nodded your head, unable to hide the smile that creased your foundation ever so slightly.
“Good! I would’ve cried—again—if you hated it…” She let out a sound of relief, placing her hands on top of your shoulders as she stood behind your chair.
“Ready?”
You nodded your head once more, tilting your head back to meet her eyes.
“Alright, let’s go!” She squeaked, hastily walking over to her bed to grab her car keys, talking to you even as she moved around.
You got up out of your seat shortly after, walking towards the door while she followed pursuit.
“Remember, if you feel even the tiniest bit uncomfortable you let me know! We can go straight home—or if a dude comes up to you! You let me know! Actually, I won’t leave you. Yep—“
You stopped her with a hand to her chest, shaking your head. You didn’t want to ruin her night, she wasn’t your babysitter—she was a friend, and you’d be damned if you messed up her night all because you couldn’t handle yourself for a few hours.
There would be people, lights, loud music, and alcohol. Life could be worse.
Well, not really…
“Angel, no way I’m leaving you alone! Are you kidding!? I know you can take care of yourself, but—“ This time you placed your hand over her mouth, sending her a look that said “I mean it.”
She upheld eye contact with you for almost 30 seconds before letting out a small sigh, wrapping her fingers around your wrist as she pulled it down.
“If that’s what you want…but I want your phone on the entire time, and your location. Just in case.”
You nodded your head, accepting her hand as it maneuvered its way into your own.
“Not forgetting anything, right?”
You shook your head, smiling.
“Then let’s party!”
Whenever you thought of a frat party, you thought of the following. Bass boosted music, lots of alcohol, couples making out, and bodies dancing against each other everywhere. (Un)safe to say—you were right. The scene was practically out of a movie. Pretty rainbow led lights that made everyone look almost angelic, smiling faces, drunken couples kissing with just as much fervor if they were to be sober—still just as in love. Friends having fun, taking pictures, drinking. High school wasn’t the best, but maybe college could be the turnaround.
Of course, you found the bright sides of a frat party.
“Holy shit!!” Miya yelled, voice barely carrying over the RnB playing. She held you with her arm around your shoulder now, guiding you and herself through the crowd towards the kitchen.
Only a few students lingered there, most of them entering only to grab a few drinks from the fridge before leaving. This was the party life you guess…and Miya knew all about it.
“Alright, sit right here. I’ll grab us a drink and then we—“
You gave her another look, furrowing your brows as you shook your head.
You pointed at yourself, put up a thumbs up, and then waved her away signaling you were just fine by yourself. You weren’t a kid—she knew that, but Miya was just worried and she had every right to be. You just couldn’t stand the fact that you would’ve been a contributing factor to a boring night.
“Promise me.” She suddenly spoke, maintaining eye contact. “Promise me you’ll call me if something happens, Angel.”
You held up your pinky finger with a small smile and she immediately hooked it with her own, squeezing tightly.
“Okay..I’ll be in the living room then, alright?”
You nodded your head, sending her off with a small wave.
Miya quickly waved back before she dispersed into the crowd, disappearing completely.
You waited a bit before finally getting up, beginning to explore the house. It was better than just sitting around after all, perhaps you’d come back with a story for her. How you walked in on a couple kissing or saw a frat boy down all 9 vodka shots in one go. Something funny like that.
With slow steps you made it out of the kitchen, carefully walking around until you noticed a back porch. The door to it was wide open, not a single soul making themself known. Fresh air would be nice, you thought—albeit, you’d just arrived but you didn’t really know what to do with yourself honestly, you came for Miya—that was it. You guess you were always that way. Subservient whenever someone asked for something, a bad trait most likely, but you liked doing things for friends. Liked making them happy with actions since you couldn’t with verbal reassurances. It filled in that gap, the gap to want to be accepted. Maybe that’s why you did it, to be useful and liked.
The cool air hit you like a brick the moment you stepped outside, the moon and a million little twinkling stars shining above you. That’s how you and Miya were. She was the bright moon, while pieces of you were scattered like the stars—burning just for her until you fizzled out and went…poof.
Best friend. She was your best friend, and you’d do anything for her. She protected you, loved you even when you thought it was impossible—your safe space. Perhaps all you needed was her. A soul sister.
“Ehem—are you out here all by yourself?”
A man’s voice pulled you away from the comfortable silence, your head slowly turning to look at him.
Oh. Oh God.
You felt your stomach drop, grip harden around your phone as you looked at his face. The same face that saw you cry back in high school, the same face that caused your tears before.
A feeling of dread overtook you completely, chest visibly rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing. It was him. Satoru Gojo.
You could remember him anywhere, better than the day you decided you hated him for the rest of your life.
It was the middle of your freshman year when you met him. The always happy go lucky, cocky yet smart sophomore who was practically the king of his grade. He was cute. Pretty blue eyes and striking white hair that made him stand out in the best way possible. You were 14 and absolutely in love, encaptivated by his looks and personality. You were dedicated to at least getting noticed—naive and innocent you were. If only you knew.
Satoru Gojo did eventually speak to you that year, but it wasn’t for the reason you hoped for. It was during lunch time he slowly waltzed up to you, hands in his pockets, careless as ever. You longed to be like that, so carefree nothing anyone ever said could even touch you.
“Hey, ghost girl.” He had smiled, his voice—so smiley and light causing you to glance up at him. You had shyly waved, skin burning up beneath his gaze as if it was set on fire.
“Oh, you really can’t speak…huh. I thought they were calling you ghost girl because you’re just quiet. You’re actually mute, huh?”
You had nodded your head, slowly putting your sandwich back down onto your plate.
“So can ghosts get wet or do they just walk through water?”
You remember shrugging your shoulders, smiling ever so slightly—ecstatic a boy like him was even speaking to you.
“Really? You don’t know?” He giggled, suddenly looking behind your head. “Maybe we should find out.”
Right then and there you followed his gaze, but it was already too late. His friend was already there, bucket of water in hand. It hit you before you could even process it, every single student in the courtyard staring at you. You were soaked from head to toe, watery eyes blending in with the water droplets dripping from your forehead.
All you could hear was laughter and in that moment the image you had of Satoru Gojo, the pedestal you’d place him on was shattered.
“I guess ghosts can’t phase through water!” He giggled, holding his stomach as if he physically couldn’t contain himself. You’d never wanted to rip someone’s face off more. You wanted to yell at him, scream your lungs off and look insane doing it—anything but staying quiet. Anything but letting him know he won.
In the end, maybe it was worth it. You’d met Miya that day in the bathroom, spilling your guts through the notes app, letting her words comfort you as she helped wipe your tears. That was the only good thing you could confidently say came out of that horrible day. Everything else? It was just a wrecked past.
You look up at him now, the same expression on his face and suddenly you’re 14 all over again, preparing to get your clothes ruined.
“Are you alright?” He spoke, rubbing the back of his neck.
You nodded your head despite yourself, gnawing on your lower lip like a kid searching for something to teeth on.
“I saw you out here all alone…it worried me, y’know? You never see girls as pretty as you are alone unless they’re crazy.” He smiled, putting on that signature charm you’d forced yourself to forget.
Does he not recognize you? Maybe it’s too much of a compliment to tell him you remember him.
You look away from him, eyes to the floor as you fold your arms over your chest.
“Oof. Never got that response before…” He laughed, “Well, sometimes from ex-hookups, but they’re usually screaming in my face. At least I know I haven’t wronged you before, would be a shame.”
Bitch.
“I’d never treat you bad—not a face like that.”
Before you could stop yourself you pushed him—full on pushed him until his back hit the floor. You didn’t expect for him to fully fall, he was six feet something and huge—but it wasn’t your fault. Sorta.
“What the fuck? Coulda said you’re not interested?” He groaned, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you—your eyes glossed over and puffy.
“Shit…I just meant..” He trailed off, slowly getting up, dusting his jeans off. “Did I…do something?”
You couldn’t stand it anymore.
Quick fingers immediately found your phone, opening up a keyboard. You typed as if you had been saving all your stamina for this—strength in your fingertips that had never been there before.
Its me. Ghost girl. In big bold letters across the screen. You flipped it over immediately, his eyes scanning across it almost instantly. At first he was confused, but then his shoulders slowly deflated, realization settling in his eyes.
“Oh.”
You sniffled, the noise escaping you before you could stop it.
His brows furrowed, a heartbroken sort of expression crossing his features. “Oh God—please. Please let me explain.”
Was he kidding himself? What was this new act? Wasn’t this where he’d laugh in your face? Re-enact the exact moment he’d ruined the way you saw yourself. What happened to the playboy frat boy you just saw?
Was that an act too?
You stood there frozen, unable to move, feet planted to the ground. You couldn’t even look at him, it hurt too much.
That day? The one hidden in his memory? It haunted you for months—it still does. Everyone had seen it. Seen you tremble and sniffle in-front of the boy you liked, heard him laugh at your mess of a self. It was humiliating, and now you’re reliving it all over again.
“Fuck—Could we talk somewhere else? In my room, maybe?”
So you can make fun of me again with nobody watching? Just for your pleasure this time, right?
A single tear left the edge of your eye, and it was as if you’d broken him. You broke Satoru Gojo with your tears.
“Nono—please don’t cry. Just let me talk, okay? Yeah? Can we do that? I have to explain myself now, you never would have let me before, but you’re here now and—“
You looked up at him, doe eyes cutting him off as they made contact with his own.
“I…In my room? Please? I don’t want to say this while we’re—“ he paused for a second, glancing back at the party roaring back inside. “out here.”
For the first time in your life you felt bad for Satoru Gojo. He looked…desperate. It was unusual, a stark contrast from the way he had just been speaking to you moments prior.
“God, please?” He whispered, suddenly reaching out for your hand, gently squeezing it. His palm was rough against your soft skin, the pleading tone of his voice sending an unfamiliar feeling to your heart. His voice…it was full of hurt and unresolved pain. It should’ve brought you satisfaction but all you felt was worse.
He would tell you his story and that was it. Nothing else.
That was what you had come to agree to after a few minutes outside, but now as you sat on his bed he seemed more silent than anything.
His room was navy blue with carpeted floors, trophies lining the shelves along with pictures of him and his friends. He got all that so easily. Not a single struggle in his life. He was born with a silver spoon between his lips while you could barely afford steel.
He sat across from you in his gaming chair, facing you with his elbows on his knees.
“I don’t know where to begin.” He started, taking off his hat before running his fingers through the white tufts on his head.
“I’ll start with sorry.”
5 years too late.
Staring at your inexpressive face he let out a sigh of defeat, slowly leaning back into his chair. “I tried to tell you how sorry I was, how—how immature of me that was, but you ignored me. R-rightfully so, but it hurt. I mean not as much as it did hurt you—“
“Why” The stark voice of google translate—the only out loud method of communication you had interrupted his rambling, the monotone sound echoing. “Why did you do it?”
“I have no valid excuse. Blaming it on my friends is childish of me, but I truly can’t say anything else. I thought you were in on it.”
“In on it?” The automated voice spoke, the frown on your face deepening as you threatened yourself to relive the moment all over again.
“He told me it was for a skit—something in drama class. He even recorded the thing! Some bullying awareness project.”
“Turns out I really was the bully, huh?” He whispered, looking down at the floor once again, shame written all over his face.
“Yeah. You were.” With the translated sentence ringing in his ears he lifted his head up a bit, looking at you directly.
“I can’t express to you how sorry I am. How much I regret it, how long I’ve thought about it.”
You paused for a moment, fingers frozen over your phone’s keyboard. He…thought about it?
With your silence he took his que to get up, walking towards you before sitting down onto the floor below you. “I know I don’t deserve it. I know you probably hate me, but I couldn’t be able to live with myself without your forgiveness.”
Your eyes widened the moment he lowered himself beneath you while you sat atop his bed, your gaze landing on his own eyes, icy blues staring up at you through his lashes.
You didn’t know what to do and he seemed to sense it, forehead falling against your bare leg.
“Back then…I had a really big crush on you.” He confessed, sending your leg jerking against him. Shit.
He let out a small laugh, wrapping his hand around your ankle as if it was muscle memory. “I thought since you were in on it, you’d be wooed by my acting..whatever bullshit my teenager self thought.” He murmured, his lips brushing against your leg just for a moment.
It felt intimate. A word you would’ve never used to describe a moment between you and Gojo.
“I feel stupid now though. All that shit I said earlier? It’s…a lie. I don’t sleep around like that.”
You turned your phone back on, typing without another thought.
“I used to like you too.”
Maybe it needed a thought or two…
His head popped up, chin against your leg now, hand still around your ankle.
“Really?”
You nodded your head, watching a small smile curl the corner of his lips now. “I feel even stupider then.” He chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “I could have had a chance back then.”
“I guess so.” The translator spoke, but in contrast to its uninterrupted words—you were yawning.
Gojo slowly let go of you, standing back up. “I-if you’re feeling tired y’could sleep here. I wouldn’t mind at all—I’ll..I’ll do anything really to make it up to you.”
You looked back at your phone, lulling the idea over in your head.
“My best friend is waiting for me.” You typed in, “I don’t want to leave her worrying about me.”
“But…I’ll be taking care of you won’t I? Unless I’m untrustworthy in her eyes.” He smirked, the unmistakable warmth in his eyes leaving you slightly confused. Did he really want you to stay?
“No clothes.”
“Take my shirt.”
“…Where will I sleep?”
“My bed.” A pause. “I-I’ll sleep on the floor.”
He seemed to have an answer for everything, a solution to every problem you found.
“Ok.”
“Yeah? Okay?” He smiled, nodding his head. “I’ll go get some blankets.”
Gojo seemed excited—elated even. You could tell from his tone, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised. You were still used to that old vision of him in your head, and maybe for a little bit you’ll always see him like that…but for now? This was a start. It was good. For him.
With intentional movements you took off your shoes, placing them beside his bed before removing your jewelry, setting it down onto his bedside table.
Settling into his covers you admired his cleanliness—especially for a room in a frat house. Was he the odd one out? Even now?
*ping*
A notification from your phone caught your attention, hand quickly grabbing it before clicking on the message.
>> miya!! : hey just checking on u, u good?
>> miya!! : it’s getting late, and i might be going home with someone else. i’ll leave my car 4 u to drive back.
>> you : don’t. i’m staying here.
>> miya!!: OHHH REAAALLLYY 👀👀 ANGEL WITH WHO!?
>> you!! : i can’t kiss and tell
>> miya!! : teasing ur bff is bad luck :(( c’mon! staying over all in one night? sure he isn’t evil? how cute is he?
You smiled to yourself, chuckling at her words.
>> you!! : he’s so-so. tell u tmrw? gonna head to sleep. i luv u
>> miya!! : SLEEPING WITH HIM FIRST DAY! who knew all i had to do was bring u 2 a frat to get u out ur shell. i luv u 2 <3
>> miya!! : sure ur all good? everything handled? u can call me at 6 in the morning and i’ll get u
>> you!! : i got it haha :) see u tmrw mimi
Just as you shut off your phone the man stepped back into the room, fluffy blankets in hand. “Two is enough, yeah?”
You nodded your head, teeth poking through your lips as you tried not to smile harder.
“Gotcha. My shirts are up for grabs—whichever one you want. Won’t look. Obviously…and yeah. That’s about it.” He finished, plopping the blankets a top his mattress.
You nodded your head, pointing to his dresser.
“Want me to get you one…?”
Nodding your head once again you watched him grab some Digimon t-shirt, throwing it in your lap.
You raised a brow, holding the shirt up. Internally judging him.
“It was a birthday gift.” He grumbled, a faint pink hue dusting the tips of his ears.
Sure it was.
Eventually he turned around, eyes closed as he heard you shifting around in his bed, listening to the sound of clothes hitting the floor. It was perverse to think of you in that way.., but he couldn’t help it! He was a man after all. A very sorry, hopeful man.
“J-just let me know when you’re done.” He gulped, the shakiness in his voice causing you to laugh in your head. He was as obvious as ever.
You put your dress to the side before getting to your feet, walking over to him, and slowly placing your hand on his arm.
As soon as he looked over at you, you shot him a thumbs up—but Gojo’s eyes were everywhere but your hand. His gaze was focused on your legs, the hem of his shirt just hiding the skin above your thighs—a sight he’d pay to look at. A sensation he’d pay even more to feel.
With a snap in front of his face he actually looked up at your face, a guilty expression on his own.
“Heading to bed now then, huh?”
You nodded your head, letting your hand fall from his arm, removing your warmth from his skin.
“Alright, I’ll be here tomorrow morning.” He started, walking back towards the door. “Sweet dreams.”
You waved at him, the smallest hint of gratitude gracing your features.
He smiled at you before closing the door, leaving you alone the same way you had been before.
The last thing you expected the one night you were to come out was to see your sworn enemy since high school, but you did. You also didn’t think he’d apologize so much for what he did back in ninth grade to the point he looked pathetic. But he did. You didn’t think you’d be sleeping in his bed, dreaming about him back by your feet, begging for your forgiveness. But you are.
You guess you got that funny story for Miya after all.
“ghost girl” ; satoru gojo—the absolute bane of your existence since the ninth grade was the last person you expected to see at a frat party your best friend had taken you to, but what you expected even less was to end up in his bedroom by the end of the night. . .
pairing : frat!gojo x mute!fem!reader
content warnings : reader is referred to as “angel” as a nickname multiple times, mentions of bullying, low self-esteem + worth, themes of emotional vulnerability and dependency, implied depression, angst -> fluff
word count : 5k
angel’s notes : first ever fic i have ever written ohemgee! hope some girlies like it and please lmk if i missed any tags! i’ll be working on part 2 sometime this week, yay!🧁
Tiny vanilla particles fell onto your pillow, the strong yet sweet scent tickling your nose as you sat on your bed, listening to your closest friend speak about her day as she got ready. It might seem like an odd thing to like to do—listen to someone talk for a long while—she’s even asked if you ever got bored with her, but you always reassured her with a shake of your head, smiling as she got right back to her rambling.
Maybe it was because you couldn’t speak that you loved the experience of hearing everyone else. Their voice, their tones, how you could instantly tell their mood based on how they sounded. You’d have to say your favorite emotion was excitement—that was when you could really hear their voices shake, how they would barely be able to get their words out because they couldn’t control themselves, the stuttering, the smiles you didn’t even have to see to know were there. It was beautiful to have so much emotion and happiness in your words you couldn’t contain it. That you couldn’t wait to share it.
“Why won’t you come with me?” Miya spoke, spraying one last spritz of her perfume—unknowingly causing you to sneeze. Once again.
Miya was a party girl. She was the one everyone looked at when you both walked into a room, the one who used to have her locker flooded with love letters in high school, and the one who met you when you were sobbing in the bathroom. You were surprised she’d heard the tiny little sniffles at all, but what you were even more shocked about was the way she comforted you. The way she patiently waited for you to take your notes app out and type for her to understand. You’d never thought she’d even look your way, not with the way everyone would speak about you. Poke fun since you couldn’t articulate words. Speak. A quiet ghost that haunted the school instead of a normal girl. That’s all you ever wanted. To be normal—to have lots of friends that would go out shopping with you, teachers who’d smile when you raised your hand in class and not frown. Maybe even a boyfriend, but that was wistful thinking. A boyfriend would want to hear his girlfriend say I love you to him not type it in on their phone.
“Are you daydreaming while I’m talking? I told you to tell me if you get bored!” Miya chuckled, snapping you out of your thoughts as she so always did. You never complained, you were grateful you had her to remind you, you were still here on earth and not in some far, far away land where this was all a dream…
You shook your head, slowly curling your legs to your chest while she walked over towards your shared vanity, picking up a heart shaped palette of blush before carefully dusting the pink powder over the apples of her cheeks.
“I know you don’t like going to these kinds of things, but it could be our first one!” She squealed, the noise immediately eliciting a smile from you. The smallest of things seemed to excite her and it always amazed you how she never ran out of energy—even after a long night.
“We’re college girls now! Let’s have our first party together. Pleasepleaseplease!” She looked over at you, her hair perfectly done as always. Shiny and perfect. When was she not?
You looked up at her, playfully raising an eyebrow as you stuck up one of your fingers.
She let out a little noise of faux exhaustion, exchanging the blush for lipgloss before applying it to her lips. “Well…maybe not my first party, but it’s my first college one! That counts! New year new me. Basically.”
A soft, deflated sigh left her lips as she put down the makeup in her hands, sending you a pouty look. “Please, Angel? Pleasepleaseplease? I’ll miss you too much if I go alone—and what if something happens to you!?” Miya quickly made her way to your side of the bed, flipping off the heels she’d put on mere minutes ago just to cuddle in and persuade you.
She held onto your arm, cheek against your shoulder as she spoke.
“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” She whispered, slowly looking up at you. Those eyes—those mischievous, brown eyes were the same reason you’d gotten into so much trouble back in sophomore year and yet you couldn’t say no to them. Even now.
With a hesitant sigh you nodded your head, watching the exact millisecond her eyes and smile widened. “Really? Do you mean it? Yes!—There’s just 30 minutes until it starts, but we can be fashionably late! Everyone knows you always come late to frat parties anyways, y’know? It’s how they work.”
You watched her go on, walking from your closet to hers and then back to the vanity, picking out shoes, makeup, accessories—mostly from her own closet—before dumping them all onto your bed.
“Try it on! I have a vision, Angel.”
She looked at you with expectant eyes, giggling to herself the moment you got up and dragged yourself into the bathroom, items in hand.
She was happy—it was all that mattered. All these years you thought you burdened her with the weight of being friends with the “ghost girl”. You’d never admit it, but when she approached you so many years ago, knocking against the stall you were trying to contain your tears in—you thought it was a prank. That any moment her friends would rush in and they’d take pictures, post you on social media—but it never happened. She helped you on what could’ve only been described as the worst day of your life.
“You done in there? C’mon I wanna see!” Her voice rang out even through the bathroom door, luring you out of your nostalgic thinking.
You hit the door back twice, signaling you were ready before tentatively opening it—a look of embarrassment etching your features as soon as you stepped out.
“Ohmygosh!”
Beautiful baby pink and white fabrics adorned your body, the tiered, low cut dress fitting you perfectly along with the thin cardigan she pulled from your own closet. It felt right. Comfortable. You felt…pretty. Maybe it’s because it was hers or because you were actually going out for once, whatever it was—you just couldn’t stop smiling.
“Angel, you look perfect.” Miya took your hand, pulling you in close before giving you a slow spin.
“Like a princess.” She chuckled, her voice suddenly cracking.
You made eye contact with her, watching her fan her hands at her eyes. “Look at me! You’re making me cry!” She laughed through her blurry vision, “I’m gonna mess up my makeup!”
She was…crying? Because of you?
“My baby’s all grown up.” She smiled, taking a step closer, her fingers carefully intertwining with yours.
You guess you really were her…baby. She took you in, laughing with you at every mistake you made, scolding you whenever you couldn’t stick up for yourself—and then yelling at the ones who said things to you. She was the first person to do that. To admit they care and mean it, to stick by you through every chapter of your life. She knew you better than you knew yourself.
Miya held you for a few more seconds, squeezing your hand one last time before breaking away.
“Alright…now how do we feel about makeup?”
You put up two fingers, signaling you wanted just a tiny bit.
“Ah, alright…I’ll let it slide. Just this once. Next time we’re going all out!”
…Next time?
She guided you back towards the vanity, settling you in before spinning the chair towards her. “Now what are we thinkin’? Natural? Soft Glam?”
You held up one finger, letting her know you wanted the first option before folding your hands together in your lap.
“Got it!”
Indeed, Miya did have it. Natural makeup isn’t much, but she sure did know how to make you feel beautiful. It was a nice base with some lashes, lipgloss, and a touch of blush—but you couldn’t stop looking at yourself, wiping the edges of your lips and such.
“Good?”
You immediately nodded your head, unable to hide the smile that creased your foundation ever so slightly.
“Good! I would’ve cried—again—if you hated it…” She let out a sound of relief, placing her hands on top of your shoulders as she stood behind your chair.
“Ready?”
You nodded your head once more, tilting your head back to meet her eyes.
“Alright, let’s go!” She squeaked, hastily walking over to her bed to grab her car keys, talking to you even as she moved around.
You got up out of your seat shortly after, walking towards the door while she followed pursuit.
“Remember, if you feel even the tiniest bit uncomfortable you let me know! We can go straight home—or if a dude comes up to you! You let me know! Actually, I won’t leave you. Yep—“
You stopped her with a hand to her chest, shaking your head. You didn’t want to ruin her night, she wasn’t your babysitter—she was a friend, and you’d be damned if you messed up her night all because you couldn’t handle yourself for a few hours.
There would be people, lights, loud music, and alcohol. Life could be worse.
Well, not really…
“Angel, no way I’m leaving you alone! Are you kidding!? I know you can take care of yourself, but—“ This time you placed your hand over her mouth, sending her a look that said “I mean it.”
She upheld eye contact with you for almost 30 seconds before letting out a small sigh, wrapping her fingers around your wrist as she pulled it down.
“If that’s what you want…but I want your phone on the entire time, and your location. Just in case.”
You nodded your head, accepting her hand as it maneuvered its way into your own.
“Not forgetting anything, right?”
You shook your head, smiling.
“Then let’s party!”
Whenever you thought of a frat party, you thought of the following. Bass boosted music, lots of alcohol, couples making out, and bodies dancing against each other everywhere. (Un)safe to say—you were right. The scene was practically out of a movie. Pretty rainbow led lights that made everyone look almost angelic, smiling faces, drunken couples kissing with just as much fervor if they were to be sober—still just as in love. Friends having fun, taking pictures, drinking. High school wasn’t the best, but maybe college could be the turnaround.
Of course, you found the bright sides of a frat party.
“Holy shit!!” Miya yelled, voice barely carrying over the RnB playing. She held you with her arm around your shoulder now, guiding you and herself through the crowd towards the kitchen.
Only a few students lingered there, most of them entering only to grab a few drinks from the fridge before leaving. This was the party life you guess…and Miya knew all about it.
“Alright, sit right here. I’ll grab us a drink and then we—“
You gave her another look, furrowing your brows as you shook your head.
You pointed at yourself, put up a thumbs up, and then waved her away signaling you were just fine by yourself. You weren’t a kid—she knew that, but Miya was just worried and she had every right to be. You just couldn’t stand the fact that you would’ve been a contributing factor to a boring night.
“Promise me.” She suddenly spoke, maintaining eye contact. “Promise me you’ll call me if something happens, Angel.”
You held up your pinky finger with a small smile and she immediately hooked it with her own, squeezing tightly.
“Okay..I’ll be in the living room then, alright?”
You nodded your head, sending her off with a small wave.
Miya quickly waved back before she dispersed into the crowd, disappearing completely.
You waited a bit before finally getting up, beginning to explore the house. It was better than just sitting around after all, perhaps you’d come back with a story for her. How you walked in on a couple kissing or saw a frat boy down all 9 vodka shots in one go. Something funny like that.
With slow steps you made it out of the kitchen, carefully walking around until you noticed a back porch. The door to it was wide open, not a single soul making themself known. Fresh air would be nice, you thought—albeit, you’d just arrived but you didn’t really know what to do with yourself honestly, you came for Miya—that was it. You guess you were always that way. Subservient whenever someone asked for something, a bad trait most likely, but you liked doing things for friends. Liked making them happy with actions since you couldn’t with verbal reassurances. It filled in that gap, the gap to want to be accepted. Maybe that’s why you did it, to be useful and liked.
The cool air hit you like a brick the moment you stepped outside, the moon and a million little twinkling stars shining above you. That’s how you and Miya were. She was the bright moon, while pieces of you were scattered like the stars—burning just for her until you fizzled out and went…poof.
Best friend. She was your best friend, and you’d do anything for her. She protected you, loved you even when you thought it was impossible—your safe space. Perhaps all you needed was her. A soul sister.
“Ehem—are you out here all by yourself?”
A man’s voice pulled you away from the comfortable silence, your head slowly turning to look at him.
Oh. Oh God.
You felt your stomach drop, grip harden around your phone as you looked at his face. The same face that saw you cry back in high school, the same face that caused your tears before.
A feeling of dread overtook you completely, chest visibly rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing. It was him. Satoru Gojo.
You could remember him anywhere, better than the day you decided you hated him for the rest of your life.
It was the middle of your freshman year when you met him. The always happy go lucky, cocky yet smart sophomore who was practically the king of his grade. He was cute. Pretty blue eyes and striking white hair that made him stand out in the best way possible. You were 14 and absolutely in love, encaptivated by his looks and personality. You were dedicated to at least getting noticed—naive and innocent you were. If only you knew.
Satoru Gojo did eventually speak to you that year, but it wasn’t for the reason you hoped for. It was during lunch time he slowly waltzed up to you, hands in his pockets, careless as ever. You longed to be like that, so carefree nothing anyone ever said could even touch you.
“Hey, ghost girl.” He had smiled, his voice—so smiley and light causing you to glance up at him. You had shyly waved, skin burning up beneath his gaze as if it was set on fire.
“Oh, you really can’t speak…huh. I thought they were calling you ghost girl because you’re just quiet. You’re actually mute, huh?”
You had nodded your head, slowly putting your sandwich back down onto your plate.
“So can ghosts get wet or do they just walk through water?”
You remember shrugging your shoulders, smiling ever so slightly—ecstatic a boy like him was even speaking to you.
“Really? You don’t know?” He giggled, suddenly looking behind your head. “Maybe we should find out.”
Right then and there you followed his gaze, but it was already too late. His friend was already there, bucket of water in hand. It hit you before you could even process it, every single student in the courtyard staring at you. You were soaked from head to toe, watery eyes blending in with the water droplets dripping from your forehead.
All you could hear was laughter and in that moment the image you had of Satoru Gojo, the pedestal you’d place him on was shattered.
“I guess ghosts can’t phase through water!” He giggled, holding his stomach as if he physically couldn’t contain himself. You’d never wanted to rip someone’s face off more. You wanted to yell at him, scream your lungs off and look insane doing it—anything but staying quiet. Anything but letting him know he won.
In the end, maybe it was worth it. You’d met Miya that day in the bathroom, spilling your guts through the notes app, letting her words comfort you as she helped wipe your tears. That was the only good thing you could confidently say came out of that horrible day. Everything else? It was just a wrecked past.
You look up at him now, the same expression on his face and suddenly you’re 14 all over again, preparing to get your clothes ruined.
“Are you alright?” He spoke, rubbing the back of his neck.
You nodded your head despite yourself, gnawing on your lower lip like a kid searching for something to teeth on.
“I saw you out here all alone…it worried me, y’know? You never see girls as pretty as you are alone unless they’re crazy.” He smiled, putting on that signature charm you’d forced yourself to forget.
Does he not recognize you? Maybe it’s too much of a compliment to tell him you remember him.
You look away from him, eyes to the floor as you fold your arms over your chest.
“Oof. Never got that response before…” He laughed, “Well, sometimes from ex-hookups, but they’re usually screaming in my face. At least I know I haven’t wronged you before, would be a shame.”
Bitch.
“I’d never treat you bad—not a face like that.”
Before you could stop yourself you pushed him—full on pushed him until his back hit the floor. You didn’t expect for him to fully fall, he was six feet something and huge—but it wasn’t your fault. Sorta.
“What the fuck? Coulda said you’re not interested?” He groaned, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you—your eyes glossed over and puffy.
“Shit…I just meant..” He trailed off, slowly getting up, dusting his jeans off. “Did I…do something?”
You couldn’t stand it anymore.
Quick fingers immediately found your phone, opening up a keyboard. You typed as if you had been saving all your stamina for this—strength in your fingertips that had never been there before.
Its me. Ghost girl. In big bold letters across the screen. You flipped it over immediately, his eyes scanning across it almost instantly. At first he was confused, but then his shoulders slowly deflated, realization settling in his eyes.
“Oh.”
You sniffled, the noise escaping you before you could stop it.
His brows furrowed, a heartbroken sort of expression crossing his features. “Oh God—please. Please let me explain.”
Was he kidding himself? What was this new act? Wasn’t this where he’d laugh in your face? Re-enact the exact moment he’d ruined the way you saw yourself. What happened to the playboy frat boy you just saw?
Was that an act too?
You stood there frozen, unable to move, feet planted to the ground. You couldn’t even look at him, it hurt too much.
That day? The one hidden in his memory? It haunted you for months—it still does. Everyone had seen it. Seen you tremble and sniffle in-front of the boy you liked, heard him laugh at your mess of a self. It was humiliating, and now you’re reliving it all over again.
“Fuck—Could we talk somewhere else? In my room, maybe?”
So you can make fun of me again with nobody watching? Just for your pleasure this time, right?
A single tear left the edge of your eye, and it was as if you’d broken him. You broke Satoru Gojo with your tears.
“Nono—please don’t cry. Just let me talk, okay? Yeah? Can we do that? I have to explain myself now, you never would have let me before, but you’re here now and—“
You looked up at him, doe eyes cutting him off as they made contact with his own.
“I…In my room? Please? I don’t want to say this while we’re—“ he paused for a second, glancing back at the party roaring back inside. “out here.”
For the first time in your life you felt bad for Satoru Gojo. He looked…desperate. It was unusual, a stark contrast from the way he had just been speaking to you moments prior.
“God, please?” He whispered, suddenly reaching out for your hand, gently squeezing it. His palm was rough against your soft skin, the pleading tone of his voice sending an unfamiliar feeling to your heart. His voice…it was full of hurt and unresolved pain. It should’ve brought you satisfaction but all you felt was worse.
He would tell you his story and that was it. Nothing else.
That was what you had come to agree to after a few minutes outside, but now as you sat on his bed he seemed more silent than anything.
His room was navy blue with carpeted floors, trophies lining the shelves along with pictures of him and his friends. He got all that so easily. Not a single struggle in his life. He was born with a silver spoon between his lips while you could barely afford steel.
He sat across from you in his gaming chair, facing you with his elbows on his knees.
“I don’t know where to begin.” He started, taking off his hat before running his fingers through the white tufts on his head.
“I’ll start with sorry.”
5 years too late.
Staring at your inexpressive face he let out a sigh of defeat, slowly leaning back into his chair. “I tried to tell you how sorry I was, how—how immature of me that was, but you ignored me. R-rightfully so, but it hurt. I mean not as much as it did hurt you—“
“Why” The stark voice of google translate—the only out loud method of communication you had interrupted his rambling, the monotone sound echoing. “Why did you do it?”
“I have no valid excuse. Blaming it on my friends is childish of me, but I truly can’t say anything else. I thought you were in on it.”
“In on it?” The automated voice spoke, the frown on your face deepening as you threatened yourself to relive the moment all over again.
“He told me it was for a skit—something in drama class. He even recorded the thing! Some bullying awareness project.”
“Turns out I really was the bully, huh?” He whispered, looking down at the floor once again, shame written all over his face.
“Yeah. You were.” With the translated sentence ringing in his ears he lifted his head up a bit, looking at you directly.
“I can’t express to you how sorry I am. How much I regret it, how long I’ve thought about it.”
You paused for a moment, fingers frozen over your phone’s keyboard. He…thought about it?
With your silence he took his que to get up, walking towards you before sitting down onto the floor below you. “I know I don’t deserve it. I know you probably hate me, but I couldn’t be able to live with myself without your forgiveness.”
Your eyes widened the moment he lowered himself beneath you while you sat atop his bed, your gaze landing on his own eyes, icy blues staring up at you through his lashes.
You didn’t know what to do and he seemed to sense it, forehead falling against your bare leg.
“Back then…I had a really big crush on you.” He confessed, sending your leg jerking against him. Shit.
He let out a small laugh, wrapping his hand around your ankle as if it was muscle memory. “I thought since you were in on it, you’d be wooed by my acting..whatever bullshit my teenager self thought.” He murmured, his lips brushing against your leg just for a moment.
It felt intimate. A word you would’ve never used to describe a moment between you and Gojo.
“I feel stupid now though. All that shit I said earlier? It’s…a lie. I don’t sleep around like that.”
You turned your phone back on, typing without another thought.
“I used to like you too.”
Maybe it needed a thought or two…
His head popped up, chin against your leg now, hand still around your ankle.
“Really?”
You nodded your head, watching a small smile curl the corner of his lips now. “I feel even stupider then.” He chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “I could have had a chance back then.”
“I guess so.” The translator spoke, but in contrast to its uninterrupted words—you were yawning.
Gojo slowly let go of you, standing back up. “I-if you’re feeling tired y’could sleep here. I wouldn’t mind at all—I’ll..I’ll do anything really to make it up to you.”
You looked back at your phone, lulling the idea over in your head.
“My best friend is waiting for me.” You typed in, “I don’t want to leave her worrying about me.”
“But…I’ll be taking care of you won’t I? Unless I’m untrustworthy in her eyes.” He smirked, the unmistakable warmth in his eyes leaving you slightly confused. Did he really want you to stay?
“No clothes.”
“Take my shirt.”
“…Where will I sleep?”
“My bed.” A pause. “I-I’ll sleep on the floor.”
He seemed to have an answer for everything, a solution to every problem you found.
“Ok.”
“Yeah? Okay?” He smiled, nodding his head. “I’ll go get some blankets.”
Gojo seemed excited—elated even. You could tell from his tone, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised. You were still used to that old vision of him in your head, and maybe for a little bit you’ll always see him like that…but for now? This was a start. It was good. For him.
With intentional movements you took off your shoes, placing them beside his bed before removing your jewelry, setting it down onto his bedside table.
Settling into his covers you admired his cleanliness—especially for a room in a frat house. Was he the odd one out? Even now?
*ping*
A notification from your phone caught your attention, hand quickly grabbing it before clicking on the message.
>> miya!! : hey just checking on u, u good?
>> miya!! : it’s getting late, and i might be going home with someone else. i’ll leave my car 4 u to drive back.
>> you : don’t. i’m staying here.
>> miya!!: OHHH REAAALLLYY 👀👀 ANGEL WITH WHO!?
>> you!! : i can’t kiss and tell
>> miya!! : teasing ur bff is bad luck :(( c’mon! staying over all in one night? sure he isn’t evil? how cute is he?
You smiled to yourself, chuckling at her words.
>> you!! : he’s so-so. tell u tmrw? gonna head to sleep. i luv u
>> miya!! : SLEEPING WITH HIM FIRST DAY! who knew all i had to do was bring u 2 a frat to get u out ur shell. i luv u 2 <3
>> miya!! : sure ur all good? everything handled? u can call me at 6 in the morning and i’ll get u
>> you!! : i got it haha :) see u tmrw mimi
Just as you shut off your phone the man stepped back into the room, fluffy blankets in hand. “Two is enough, yeah?”
You nodded your head, teeth poking through your lips as you tried not to smile harder.
“Gotcha. My shirts are up for grabs—whichever one you want. Won’t look. Obviously…and yeah. That’s about it.” He finished, plopping the blankets a top his mattress.
You nodded your head, pointing to his dresser.
“Want me to get you one…?”
Nodding your head once again you watched him grab some Digimon t-shirt, throwing it in your lap.
You raised a brow, holding the shirt up. Internally judging him.
“It was a birthday gift.” He grumbled, a faint pink hue dusting the tips of his ears.
Sure it was.
Eventually he turned around, eyes closed as he heard you shifting around in his bed, listening to the sound of clothes hitting the floor. It was perverse to think of you in that way.., but he couldn’t help it! He was a man after all. A very sorry, hopeful man.
“J-just let me know when you’re done.” He gulped, the shakiness in his voice causing you to laugh in your head. He was as obvious as ever.
You put your dress to the side before getting to your feet, walking over to him, and slowly placing your hand on his arm.
As soon as he looked over at you, you shot him a thumbs up—but Gojo’s eyes were everywhere but your hand. His gaze was focused on your legs, the hem of his shirt just hiding the skin above your thighs—a sight he’d pay to look at. A sensation he’d pay even more to feel.
With a snap in front of his face he actually looked up at your face, a guilty expression on his own.
“Heading to bed now then, huh?”
You nodded your head, letting your hand fall from his arm, removing your warmth from his skin.
“Alright, I’ll be here tomorrow morning.” He started, walking back towards the door. “Sweet dreams.”
You waved at him, the smallest hint of gratitude gracing your features.
He smiled at you before closing the door, leaving you alone the same way you had been before.
The last thing you expected the one night you were to come out was to see your sworn enemy since high school, but you did. You also didn’t think he’d apologize so much for what he did back in ninth grade to the point he looked pathetic. But he did. You didn’t think you’d be sleeping in his bed, dreaming about him back by your feet, begging for your forgiveness. But you are.
You guess you got that funny story for Miya after all.
nerdmin headcanons as your brothers bestfriend
a/n: for the armin lovers (including me)
nerdmin who would say that he’s gonna help you with your studies, as an excuse to be alone with you
nerdmin who would study every feature you have from across the room, you’re just asking your brother to be less noisy and the only thing that he’s doing is staring so obviously at your face while you’re arguing with your brother
nerdmin who would get all flushed whenever you compliment him or smile at him
nerdmin who would listen to anything that you have to say, whether it’s about your day or your complains about your brother
nerdmin who would stay up all night to write a love letter to confess his feelings to you, he’d mention all the things in his sentences, like saying that he loves you just as much as how you love your favorite anime
nerdmin who would give the love letter to you the next day, his hands shaking, lower lip trembling because his way too nervous
nerdmin who would never leave your side after you said yes to his confession, he’s at your house cause he has plans with your brother but he’ll just slip inside your room and cuddle with you
nerdmin who would try to be intimate but fails when you match his energy, his cheeks end up getting pink, he tries to hide his face with both of his hands but you part his hands away with your own
nerdmin who tries to tell you something new that he learned, while he’s oblivious of you sleeping next to him instead of actually listening, he’ll continue talking about whatever smart thing that comes out of his mouth before he sees you taking a nap
nerdmin who says yes before you could even finish your question
nerdmin who would let you pepper him with a bunch of kisses, you’ll grab his face gently and kiss every spot on his face
nerdmin who loves everything you wear or how you style your hair, he won’t even hide how much he loves it, he’ll comment nicely about how you look at least once each hour
Summary: Dating a women’s studies major has turned Sukuna into the frat house’s most feared feminist. Now the frat boys can’t make a sexist comment without getting a lecture, while you sit back and watch.
A/n: just fun lil thing i thought of :)
The frat house was unusually quiet, no music, no party, no sports discussions.
This was because Ryomen Sukuna was standing in the living room with his arms crossed, looking genuinely disappointed.
“Did you just call her a bitch?”
Satoru Gojo, halfway through stealing someone’s energy drink from the fridge, blinked. “What?”
“You called that girl a bitch.”
“She literally stole my hoodie after our hookup,” he shrugged him off.
Sukuna pointed at him. “And? Speak like a man. Have some respect.”
“No, seriously.” Sukuna continued. “You don’t get to call women bitches because you’re annoyed.”
Satoru stared. “Who are you?”
“My girlfriend says that’s misogynistic.”
“Your girlfriend also made you stop saying ‘females.’”
“And she was right, it’s disrespectful. Some shit incels say.”
The entire frat house collectively recoiled.
Across the room, you sat on the couch, sipping an iced coffee and watching the chaos unfold. A smile on your face, because god were you enjoying this.
This was better than reality TV.
Satoru pointed at you. “YOU DID THIS.”
You raised your coffee in acknowledgment.“Damn right.”
———————————————————————————————
The frat party was loud enough to shake the walls. Music blasted through the speakers.
Drinking games to your left, a fist fight to your right; and you were just observing from the kitchen.
And in the middle of it all, Toji was sprawled across the couch with a beer in hand.
His girlfriend was standing nearby talking to some friends when Toji waved his empty can in the air. “Hey.”
She glanced over. “Yeah?”
“Grab me another beer.”
A few people looked over.
She frowned. “What?”
“You heard me.” Toji pointed toward the kitchen. “Get me another beer.”
Before she could argue, another voice cut through the room.
“No.”
Toji closed his eyes. “…God.”
Across the room, Sukuna was already walking over.
You perked up immediately, ready for your boyfriend to set Toji straight.
Sukuna stopped directly in front of Toji. “Hell no.”
Toji looked exhausted. “No what?”
“No disrespecting your girl in front of me.”
A few people turned their attention to the potential altercation.
Toji rubbed his forehead. “I asked her to get me a beer.”
“You ordered her.”
“It’s not that serious, right baby?” He said, trying to save his ass.
Sukuna crossed his arms. “If you want a beer, use your legs, or ask nicely.”
Toji stared, “You cannot be real.”
His girlfriend was already trying not to laugh.
Sukuna pointed toward the kitchen, “Go get your own drink.”
“Or what?”
The entire room collectively leaned forward.
Sukuna grinned. “Or I’ll disrespect your face by punching it.”
You giggled. Only Sukuna could point out misogyny while trying to solve the issue with violence.
A guy standing nearby immediately whispered, “That’s the most Sukuna version of feminism I’ve ever heard.”
Toji looked around the room. Nobody was helping him. Not even a little, most probably in fear of Sukuna.
Finally, Toji sighed. “Fine.”
Sukuna nodded. “Good choice.”
Toji turned toward his girlfriend. “Sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow, suddenly she had more confidence than before. “Sorry for what?”
Toji was clearly embarrassed now, “Sorry for talking to you like that.”
“Thank you.”
Sukuna gave an approving nod. “There. Growth.”
“Shut it,” he said staring down Sukuna. “You know what? I’m getting my own beer.”
As Toji disappeared into the kitchen, the room broke into applause.
His girlfriend laughed and shook her head.
Then she turned to Sukuna. “Thanks.”
Sukuna shrugged. “Don’t thank me.”
He pointed across the room toward you. “Thank her.”
Everyone looked.
You were sitting comfortably on a stool in the kitchen; chin in hand, eating chips like you’d been watching a sporting event.
You gave a little wave.
“Kuna’s a women’s studies soldier ,” she said proudly. “I teach him everything I know.”
———————————————————————————————
The fraternity and sorority had gathered in one room to brainstorm ideas for a charity fundraiser. People were throwing out suggestions.
Raffles. Bake sales. Auctions.
Then Satoru snapped his fingers. “I got it.”
Immediately, you looked concerned, because he never had good ideas.
“We do a joint event with the sorority.” Satoru grinned. “The girls wear maid outfits and serve drinks.”
The room erupted into approval.
“That’s genius.”
“People would love that.”
“Easy money.”
Across the room, Sukuna slowly lowered the energy drink from his hand.
“Interesting.”
“NO,” Gojo yelled. “Let me have this one good idea,” he groans.
Sukuna stood. “Let me understand… the women wear maid costumes.”
“Yeah.”
“And serve drinks.”
“Yeah.”
“And what are the men doing?”
Toji shrugged. “We could do some strength challenge.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Lifting something heavy.” Several people nodded.
“Classic.” Sukuna stared. Then looked at you, looking for approval to go on a rant.
Sukuna turned back to the room. “The women get assigned a service role. The men get assigned a strength role.”
More silence.
“Based on gender.”
The room collectively sighed.
Sukuna pointed dramatically. “Why.”
Satoru finally spoke. “Because that’s what people want.”
Sukuna gasped.
You smiled proudly at your boyfriend, waiting for him to call out their blatant sexism.
“PEOPLE EXPECT IT?”
“Yeah?”
“So we’re just reinforcing traditional gender roles for profit now?”
The room erupted.
“IT’S A CHARITY EVENT.”
“YOU’RE MAKING IT SOUND EVIL.”
Sukuna ignored them. “Misogyny is evil.” He pointed toward the sorority members.
“Why are they the ones serving drinks?”
One of the sorority girls raised her hand. “Honestly, I don’t want to wear a maid costume.”
“THANK YOU.” Sukuna was fully activated.
You were delighted to see how this was playing out.
“Explain to me,” Sukuna continued, “why the men can’t wear maid costumes and serve drinks.”
The room went dead silent, and you almost spit out your drink.
Toji blinked.
Satoru blinked.
The sorority sisters were stunned. “What?”
“The men.” Sukuna spread his arms.
“No.”
“Why not?”
The room burst into laughter.
“If serving drinks is easy money, then congratulations.” He slapped the table.
“The fraternity is serving drinks.”
The sorority girls immediately started cheering.
“YES.”
“MAKE THEM DO IT.”
Toji looked horrified. “Absolutely not, I’m not wearing a maid outfit.”
Sukuna leaned forward. “Fragile, typical response from men. Toxic masculinity, machismo, societal expectations.” He says pointing a finger at different men around the room.
You had your face in your hands, trying to hide your laughter. You had to show support for your boyfriend, but couldn’t handle him naming every term he could think of.
Sukuna pointed around the room. “If the costumes aren’t degrading, wear them.”
Silence.
The sorority girls were having the time of their lives. One of them pulled out her phone. “I’m ordering maid costumes right now.”
The fraternity erupted in panic.
“STOP HER.”
“WE CAN STILL NEGOTIATE.”
——-
Two weeks later, the fundraiser ended up being the most successful event in frat history.
Mostly because nobody could resist paying money to watch a group of deeply embarrassed frat bros serve spiked lemonade in maid outfits.
Toji looked dead inside.
Satoru refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Meanwhile Sukuna carried a tray through the crowd completely unbothered.
His maid outfit fit surprisingly well, as he served you a drink.
Across the lawn, Satoru was being forced to say “Welcome home, master” for a twenty-dollar donation.
The sorority was making a fortune.
Sukuna took one look at the donation total and smiled. “Look how good we’ve done so far,” he said enthusiastically.
“I’m so proud of you,” you said before leaning in for a kiss.
“By the way, I think you should bring home this costume when you’re done here,” you said; snapping the thigh high sock on Sukuna’s thigh.
────⟢ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 will always find you, doesn’t matter which universe :: gn!reader :: angst :: obsessed!satoru, he’s a lil crazy folks :: mentions of blood ::
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 , who stares at the broken reflection before him with an empty gaze. his fingertips still tingle from the unfinished energy lingering around him in tatters— knuckles bloody from something too mortal, too divine at once. something that couldn’t escape his infinity. his want.
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 , whose eyes trail over your ceramic skin— not daring to linger on the cracks at the edges of your being. you look. . peaceful. safe. and a bit of something that he can’t quite name. perhaps it is the cocoon he could never wrap you in— greedily taking away all the barriers for himself, leaving you with bare skin.
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 , who can feel the little bird locked away in his ribs struggle. but it isn’t for long, because the red, sticky strings coiled ’round its neck begin to unravel at the seams, pooling around its bony wings like a shadow of his blood.
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 , who tries to look away— really does. but it doesn’t help that his cursed energy eats away at the remnants of you, gnawing at your face and hands and neck and all the places he wishes he could’ve marked. he wishes he could taint you, so it would be easier for him to find you next time. for what is satoru gojo if not want?
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 , who takes a step back against the wooden floor of his bedroom, arms crossed over his chest. there lies an empty bed where you once slept endlessly— sheets free from any wrinkles or warmth. he pays it no mind, for it does not matter anyway.
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 , who turns his head back at the clock. the same digits from before glare right back at him— 3:33 AM. good, it’s holding its breath. he thought that it might not work the second time, but he was the strongest, after all— right?
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 , who tears apart his dimension. it doesn’t take much, really, just a flick of his wrist and reality singes around him— screaming against his shoulders, trying to weigh him down for his sins. but once you’ve loved someone, there is no sin sweeter than wanting it once again. even if you’ve lost it already.
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 , who steps into another world with another sky— but not another you. you’re always the same. always you.
“sweetheart,” he rasps, “wait for me.”
the bird has long grown teeth, and all that’s left in satoru’s chest is a bloodied beak.
sukuna sprawled out on your shared bed, two arms above his head, one across his stomach, and another lied idly on your thigh. his hair was messy, strands all over the place, and a few somehow shaped into bangs over his forehead. his stomach-mouth was open, softly snoring while showing off his large fangs.
and although he looked so comfortable, and the moonlight softly shone through the curtains of your quarters, you took a minute to leave. softly, you moved his large hand off your thigh, placing it close to where you slept instead.
after you’ve quietly retreated to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, sukuna almost immediately woke up from the loss of your touch.
he softly grumbled when he didn’t feel your body warmth, then he grabbed at what he wanted to be you, but instead met with sheets.
a huff escaped him, and he turned onto his side with a groan, half sitting up and using a hand to prop himself up.
“wife..” he called out, mumbling with his natural rough voice, a frown appearing on his face.
and almost as if you could sense how he already missed you dearly, not knowing how long you’d been gone, you slowly creaked the door open, walking in with a glass of water. as you sat it on the nightstand, your heart ached as sukuna blearily stared up at you with half-lidded eyes. he slowly blinked up at you like a cat, and his hair stuck up in many different directions.
some drool escaped the corner of his mouth, and you smiled. he probably didn’t even notice.
finally, you climbed into bed again, softly mumbling, “i know, i’m here,” with a smile as he already began reaching towards you to pull you closer.
your hand found his chest, and you rubbed comforting circles on his tattoos as you left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. before you could pull away, he softly nudged your head with his, letting out a soft sigh as his hand found your back.
but you reached up, hand finding his hair as you play with it. he pushed his head into your hand, asking for more touch.
“you have bed head hair,” you whispered as his eyes nearly closed.
but he murmured, shaking his head with a pout, “i do not,” he let out a dramatic huff, glaring at you with all four eyes.
“whatever you say, honey,” you mumbled as you looked down at him, hand still running through his hair.
and within seconds, he’s asleep as quickly as he woke up. this time, he’s lulled to sleep by your touch. he’s right where he wants to be, falling asleep every night in the arms of his wife.
ib this art by sukunaglazer23 on twt he’s so adorable oml
clingy!yuji who won’t leave your side if you’re somewhere with him, at training, missions, or when you’re hanging out
clingy!yuji who gives you the biggest pout whenever you ask him to leave your side, and even after all your complaining he’s still right by your side
clingy!yuji who will stand right behind you in the kitchen and wrap his arms around your waist, his head snuggling in your neck while he’s asking you what you’re cooking
clingy!yuji who will never accept that you’re going somewhere without him, when you have plans with your friends he’ll basically beg if he could come with you, eventually he’ll sit on the couch with the same pout he always has, watching the show you told him to watch while you’re hanging out with your friends
clingy!yuji who would always mention you in every conversation he had, with gojo, nobara, megumi, etc
clingy!yuji who would try to cook for you when you guys got into a discussion, he’dl try to make a sweet dessert or a luxurious dinner but it always ends up burned
clingy!yuji who would act like he’s asleep just to get headscratches from you, his head on your lap and your fingers twirling in his soft pink hair
clingy!yuji who would show you all the new things he learned after training, he’d say that he would use these moves if you’re in danger, but you guys both know that you’re fine on your own
clingy!yuji who would use your body as a pillow if he’s sleeping, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his face on your belly, when you try to move just even a bit away he’d follow your movements right away
a/n: i made this in french class while i actually had to study 💔
