Synopsis: Every January since you were little, you would dream about a field of snow, waking up cold. That was happening until you went back home one January – when that same dream would end differently, in which the snow melted and you would hear a voice. That same voice was the one you would hear from a fellow figure skater that you met in your home town; his name was Khaslana. Now you can't seem to avoid this man, whether you're online or outside and fans can't get enough of you two together.
A/N: naturally, the way ive characterised khaslana is very gentle, so i chose to not make him a little shit about [Name]'s tweets lol. I chose a sweeter approach, because he's been equally down bad <3 A bit shorter because I wanna save some stuff for the final chapters!
Can’t believe he would’ve been 27 years old today, taken too soon from us from this world. You will be in our hearts forever and always, Technoblade never dies! 🩷
narcolepsy = a condition characterised by an extreme tendency to fall asleep whenever in relaxing surroundings
likes, reblogs, comments are encouraged!!
a/n : hii guys!! weekly updates are starting, unfortunately next week may be a little delayed as i have a concert, my friends bday, my bday and a lot of other things!! please be patient
frat parties are basically just expensive naps in cute outfits for you
everyone else shows up to parties to drink, dance, or cause problems on purpose.
you?
you show up in your cutest miniskirt, glitter on your eyelids, hair perfect.... and then promptly fall asleep on frat boy sukuna shoulder the moment the bass drops.
frat boy sukuna is this terrifying, tatted, broad-shouldered frat demon leaning against the wall with a cup in hand…
and you’re just curled into him like he’s your personal pillow.
frat boy gojo, already was drunk.. “bro she came dressed like she was gonna party but shes literally unconscious on you??”
frat boy sukuna, petting your hair aggressively whilst side eyeing him “she IS partying thank you. now shut the hell up.”
the frat literally dont know you properly
like. at all.
they’ve “seen” you.
they’ve “met” you.
but speaking to you?
a conversation??
impossible.
frat boy toji once tried to introduce himself while you were sitting on the couch. you nodded politely… then immediately slumped sideways into the cushions and passed out.
he stared for a solid ten seconds before muttering, “is she alive or does this place need an exorcism again.”
frat boy nanami doesn’t even attempt anymore. he just nods at your sleeping body like “good afternoon.”
frat boy geto covers you with a blanket every time he walks by.
frat boy gojo has a photo album titled 'y/n doing absolutely nothing.'
you’ve been to this frat house hundreds of times. they know your sleep schedule better than your major.
accidental date naps..
frat boy sukuna plans dates.
and genuinely tries.
drives you out to a cute pier at sunset? you fall asleep five minutes into the ride.
movie night? you’re asleep before the opening credits.
picnic on the lawn? you fell asleep on the sandwich he made you.
frat boy sukuna used to get annoyed like, “c’mon woman,”
but now frat boy sukuna just tucks you under his hoodie, kisses your forehead, and finishes both meals because “waste of money my ass.”
sometimes you wake up halfway through a date and go,
“wasn’t I supposed to be doing something?”
and he just deadpans
“yeah. kissing me.”
trying to keep you awake is the funniest, saddest thing on earth
if you haven’t had a nap, you turn into a sleepy, blinking, barely coherent little creature.
frat boy sukuna can spot it instantly across campus...
the slow steps, the long blinks, the soft sway in place.
frat boy sukuna whispers, “oh hell nah,” under his breath and starts jogging to you.
you see frat boy sukuna, smile tiredly, open your arms…
and then plop.
you fall forward into his chest and knock out standing up..
he just catches you like muscle memory.
"bruh i need to get to the other side of the campus now"
waking you up = his personal boss battle
frat boy sukuna has tried EVERYTHING.
shaking you? doesn’t work.
calling your name? no reaction.
kissing your cheek? nothing but a little snore.
one time frat boy sukuna got desperate and said, “i’m breaking up with you.” and immediately regretted saying that except..
you didn’t even flinch.
he felt INSULTED.
frat boy gojo, chaotic angel, once set his military-level alarm next to your ear.. and well...
that thing could resurrect the dead.
you didn’t even twitch.
frat boy sukuna almost passed out from laughter and despair at the same time.
how you met.. and possibly being the most adorable crisis of his life
high school frat boy sukuna working part-time at a small café near his house was not on your bingo card..
but there he was, grumpy apron, hands always busy, pretending not to stare at you every time you walked in after school for your daily tiramisu.
frat boy sukuna thought you were cute in that soft, dreamy, out-of-his-league way.
but he was WORKING.
he tried to focus.
until closing time, when he noticed you still at your table… head down… completely still.
he froze.
oh my god.
was the cute girl DEAD?!
he poked your shoulder like it might explode.
nothing.
panic. full panic
frat boy sukuna was so getting fired and not having public holiday extra pay.
the manager came out, laughed, and whispered,
“she has narcolepsy..she explained it to me when she fell asleep like this"
sukuna stood there like .... narco what a what
googled it that night.
learned everything.
pretended it didn't concern him.
it concerned him a LOT.
the frat drags you both to some neon 80’s themed diner.
it’s loud, bright, full of music..
and you are fighting for your LIFE to stay awake.
you’re sitting in the red booth next to frat boy sukuna, eyes slowly drooping, head dipping forward.
everyone watches in real time as you lose the battle with sleep.
“bro she’s lagging slowly.” – frat boy gojo
“she’s at 1%.” – frat boy geto
“plug her in.” – frat boy toji
whilst frat boy nanami rolls his eyes
“all of you shut up.” – frat boy sukuna
you finally slump over into frat boy sukuna shoulder and he immediately throws his arm around you like it’s completely normal.
he feeds you fries while you’re basically unconscious.
frat boy sukuna is stupidly in love for sure
frat boy sukuna pretends he’s grumpy, but yet carries emergency blankets, snacks, and even a tiny travel pillow in his backpack now.
frat boy sukuna slows down his walking pace because you’re always sleep-stumbling.
frat boy sukuna checks your meds, your schedule, your comfort.
he even gives you his hoodies because “it’s softer. you sleep better in it.”
and every time someone asks how you two even work, frat boy sukuna just shrugs
“she sleeps. i watch. that’s basically love.”
pretends he’s annoyed, but actually melts every time you fall asleep on him.
frat boy sukuna always carries an emergency hoodie for you to nap in.
frat boy sukuna knows all your triggers, all your sleep tells, all the ways to wake you gently when necessary.
frat boy sukuna claims he doesn’t care, but the frat caught him reading a medical article about narcolepsy on his phone at 2am.
frat boy sukuna calls you “sleepy baby” when he’s teasing and “baby” when he’s genuinely worried.
jealous frat boy sukuna, except you slept through the ENTIRE misunderstanding
it starts because some guy in your lecture... let's call him harmless biology boy
he tries to wake you up after you fell asleep mid-class by gently tapping your shoulder.
you blink awake, mumble, “mm… thanks,” and promptly fall back asleep on his arm.
biology boy freezes like he just got chosen by a forest spirit.
someone sends frat boy sukuna a picture with "yo aint this ur girl?"
frat boy sukuna sees the snap of you sleeping on another man's limb like it's a premium memory foam pillow.
frat boy sukuna storms into the building looking like he’s about to commit third-degree educational homicide...
only to find you… STILL asleep on this poor dude, who is clearly rethinking every decision he’s ever made.
frat boy sukuna just stands over him like a shadow.
biology boy lifts his hands.
“sir… i didn’t… she just...."
“yeah. she does that,” frat boy sukuna sighs, scooping you up like a giant grumpy crane.
you wake up later, curled on his chest in his dorm, and go, “huh? weren’t we in class?”
frat boy sukuna just grunts and kisses your forehead because he cannot stay mad at the human embodiment of a warm blanket.
frat reacting the first time you stay awake for more than 2 hours
it’s a historic day in the house.
you come in for movie night.
you’re awake.
you sit on the couch.
you’re still awake.
30 minutes pass.
you’re STILL awake.
frat boy gojo is the first to notice...
“SUKUNA. WE’RE WITNESSING A MIRACLE.”
frat boy geto brings out his phone like a nature documentary narrator.
frat boy nanami knows that this moment wont last long with your energy levels.
frat boy toji deadass checks your pulse and forehead because his brain refuses to accept it.
even frat boy sukuna is staring at you suspiciously, like,
“…what’s wrong with you?”
you shrug, “i slept earlier,”
and the whole frat SCATTERS like pigeons.
the longer you stay awake, the more unstable they get.
90 minutes in and frat boy gojo is pacing.
“she’s still conscious. bro do we call someone??”
eventually, you lean on frat boy sukuna arm, still awake, and he looks so proud it’s embarrassing.
“good girl, keep them insane for me” he mutters.
you fall asleep 10 seconds later.
frat balance restored.
you tend to sleep talk but you rather have sleep-talking confessions about him
frat boy sukuna pretends he doesn’t care when you sleep-talk.
he cares A LOT.
one time you fell asleep on his bed while he was playing a game.
halfway through, you mumbled,
“mm… ‘kuna… love…”
frat boy sukuna froze, controller slipping from his hands.
looked back at you like you’d just recited poetry.
“what’d you say?”
you snored in response.
another time, curled in his hoodie, you whispered,
“love you… even when you’re scary…”
frat boy sukuna actually had to sit down on the floor for a second because it hit him so hard.
the next day he was extra gentle, opening doors, carrying you everywhere, glaring at anyone who breathed too close.
you asked raising a brow, “why are you being so… soft?”
he grumbled “shut up” and tucked you into a blanket more aggressively.
the first time you sleep on him by not accident.....
you ALWAYS fall asleep accidentally ... on his chest, on his arm, on the table, on the ground, on a textbook, everywhere.
so the day you walk into his room, sit next to frat boy sukuna, and intentionally curl up against him…
he short-circuits.
like full glitch.
frat boy sukuna stiffens for a second because he’s not used to you choosing sleep position deluxe edition on him without warning.
“what’s this about?” he mutters.
and you quietly say, “i wanted to nap with you this time.”
and then knock out immediately.
frat boy sukuna does not move for TWO HOURS because “if she chose me on purpose, i’m not friggin shifting an inch.”
frat boy gojo bursts in during that two hours and frat boy sukuna throws a shoe at him with sniper accuracy.
later, frat boy sukuna admits (in his own grumpy way),
“…it was nice.”
translation: he wants it to happen again and he's already hearing the wedding beels
one time you accidentally fall asleep to frat boy sukuna mid-confession
one day frat boy sukuna is holding your face gently, looking at you like he wants to say something big.
you’re blinking slow.
very slow.
a little to slow for liking...
dangerously slow.
“hey,” he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek,
“i… i think i—”
you fall asleep on frat boy sukuna palm.
frat boy sukuna has never known defeat so intimately.
frat boy sukuna just sighs, rests his forehead against yours, and murmurs,
“yeah. yeah. i love you too. whatever.”
more chaos, more softness, more frat stupidity, more you sleeping everywhere
“meet the parents” is easy they say except you fall asleep infrat boy sukuna mother’s arms
frat boy sukuna swears he’s not nervous.
he lies.
he’s pacing, fixing his shirt, muttering threats to inanimate objects like,
“she better not fall asleep during introductions or I’ll— actually no she will. damn it.”
you walk in to meet his mother and immediately she LOVES you.
and frat boy sukuna mom instantly swoops in like a reflex.
she catches you in her arms before you can even slump forward and holds you like you’re her own child.
you fall asleep on her instantly.
frat boy sukuna stands there, horrified.
“MA. what the hell.”
she smiles at him, rocking you gently.
“she’s precious. don’t raise your voice.”
“…what is happening right now?”
frat boy sukuna dad comes in, sees you asleep on his wife, nods respectfully and goes,
“she fits right in.”
sukuna’s heart does an embarrassing little flip.
fratboy sleepover chaos.. but the rule is “DON’T WAKE Y/N”
the frat decides to have a sleepover in the living room (for reasons no one remembers — probably frat boy gojo).
you’re there on frat boy sukuna lap, already 100% unconscious.
the boys agree on one universal rule:
if anyone wakes up y/n, they’re dead.
the house becomes a sacred silent zone.
frat boy toji drops a beer can? death stare from everyone.
frat boy gojo tries to tell a story too loudly and gets tackled mid-sentence by frat boy geto.
frat boy nanami is making sure nothing hits the floor
frat boy sukuna sits with you curled in HIS hoodie on HIS lap, arms around you like a territorial bear.
frat boy gojo whispers, “bro you’re holding her like she’s a ticking bomb.”
frat boy sukuna whispers back, “she IS. she explodes into tears when she wakes up abruptly so back off.”
“oh. fair.”
at one point someone sneezes and the whole house goes silent — all eyes on you.
you shift a little…
everyone holds their breath…
then you settle back into sleep.
the group collectively exhales like a SWAT team after defusing a bomb.
when you’re sleepier, you fall asleep in even dumber places.
frat boy sukuna finds you.. in weird areas not like you dont already do that already..
you're slumped over your laptop
you're asleep on your open notebook
you're asleep in the library stacks
you're asleep sitting straight up like an unplugged robot
once, asleep in a hallway corner like a sim that glitched
frat boy sukuna picks you up every single time, muttering,
“you’re gonna get bad back problems sleeping like this and blame it on me.”
frat boy sukuna starts making schedules FOR you!
nap times, study breaks, snack breaks, hydration reminders.. stuff he pretends is “for efficiency” but is actually because he’s worried sick.
frat boy sukuna quizzes you gently while you’re half-asleep against him.
frat boy sukuna carries you to his bed and forces you to nap when you’re too stubborn.
frat boy sukuna even gets frat boy nanami to help organise your study materials because he “trusts no one else except boring-ass frat boy nanami with her grades.”
the day you finally finish exams, you fall asleep in his arms before even celebrating.
he wraps you in his hoodie and whispers,
“good job, my sleepy baby.”
jealous YOU!
everyone always focuses on jealous frat boy sukuna…
but jealous YOU?
it’s adorable.
you don’t get angry.
you just… quietly malfunction.
if a girl tries to flirt with frat boy sukuna at a party, you don’t fight —
you simply fall asleep ON HIM like a little koala claiming her tree.
“omg sukuna, your tattoos are sooo—"
whist you climbs onto his lap like a koala and immediately sleeps
“…did she just—”
frat boy sukuna, would be proud for sure...
or if a girl touches frat boy sukuna?
you take his hand, hold it to your chest like a teddy bear, and doze off.
instant dominance.
passive but powerful.
one time a girl asked for frat boy sukuna number and before he could tell her off, you gently leaned your head against his shoulder and fell asleep holding onto his shirt.
he kissed the top of your head and said,
“yeah, no. I’m good.”
I am back from the dead, after doomscrolling and procrastinating on art projects— here it is! I'm getting more comfortable using this app so I can't wait to post more!
༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ you have a huge crush on the campus’s golden boy gojo satoru and as a way to get closer to him you decide to become the basketball team’s mascot.
⋆˚࿔ part 1.
the first week is… a disaster.
you can barely see out of the costume, your legs wobble with every jump, and you’re sweating in places you didn’t know could sweat. you’re not fittest person for this task and hearing people snicker at your unintentionally silly mannerisms is quite embarrassing, yet somehow, it all fades when gojo notices you.
it starts small: a boyish laugh from across the gym as you trip over your oversized mascot feet, a wink when you accidentally bump into the benches or hit your big head against something.
“you okay, buddy?” he calls, grinning like the sun just decided to sit in the bleachers.
you feel your heart skip a beat and nod frantically, cheeks burning in the costume, trying to maintain some shred of dignity while internally screaming because he is the prettiest person ever.
later, when he leans his elbow on the top of your mascot head(which he easily reaches with his height by the way) as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, you freeze in the most stupid way possible, heart pounding, and hear his lazy, teasing drawl, “didn’t think you’d be this soft, wolfie.” (apparently, it’s a wolf mascot) you make some garbled, embarrassed noise and he laughs. the first time he does it, you spend the rest of the day trying to convince yourself it didn’t happen. the second time, you secretly hope it does happen again.
as the season progresses, you start seeing him during breaks more often. he finds reasons to walk past you, sometimes with a basketball under his arm, sometimes just to lean against the wall beside the mascot tunnel, casually commenting on the game, the crowd, your “incredible energy.” which is, of course, sarcastic since you’re basically dying under it.
there’s a routine that develops, this silly little dance of proximity: he’ll come over during timeout and crouch beside you, whispering, “hey, save some high-fives for the other fans, yeah?” and you nod, heart thumping so loudly you’re sure the entire gym can hear it. he teases you relentlessly — sometimes he and his teammates stage mock “playfights” with you, swatting at the oversized mascot paws, nudging you around corners. you protest, but mostly you giggle, because there’s no real danger and he always laughs, that ridiculous, charming laugh that somehow manages to make your knees go weak even when you’re sweating through your costume.
he notices little things, too, that make your crush spiral further out of control.
one day, after a particularly close game, he stops beside you with a towel, leaning over to wipe the imaginary sweat from the top of your mascot head without hesitation.
“man, i imagine it’s like a sauna in there,” he says, and you make some muffled sound that probably counts as a squeak. he cocks his head, eyes glinting with amusement.
“yeah, that’s you, wolfie, working hard for the team.” he smirks, and you can feel the warmth from his elbow pressing against the top of your head again.
these small, deliberate touches — brushing your arm when handing you a water bottle(that you drink turned away from him because the prospect of him seeing you all sweaty is scary) or him tapping the mascot head with his fingers when teasing you — they feel like fireworks in slow motion. he’s never rude, never mean, just effortlessly sweet and every encounter makes your chest ache a little more because. . . maybe he’s just nice like that to everyone.
it’s during one of the mid-season games that you actually manage to speak back to him without turning into a puddle of nerves. you’re huffing through the mascot head after sprinting across the court for some ridiculous halftime routine, and he’s leaning casually against the bleachers, arms crossed, watching you like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
he grins and calls out, “hey, you! why are you doing this to yourself? what kind of person voluntarily runs around in that thing?”
you manage a muffled, “i… i thought it’d be… fun? and… to support the team?” your voice sounds strangled in the head, but he hears it perfectly since his attention is fully on you and you melt at the realisation.
he tilts his head, one eyebrow raised, a lazy smirk on his face. “fun, huh? really? because you look like you’re about to collapse.”
you laugh nervously, pressing your hands to the sides of the head, heart hammering. “i… i like the team,” you squeak and then your courage flares just a little. “and… i like supporting you.”
the silence is brief but heavy. he leans forward, voice softening but still teasing. “supporting me? that’s… good to know. i like it.” he pauses and you swear your heart audibly skips a beat. “also… i like your voice.”
your head tilts in confusion. “…my voice?”
“yeah,” he says, grinning wider. “it’s cute. i bet you’re probably cute under there too.”
he winks and the air around you feels like it’s vibrating with warmth and his endless energy. you choke on air, trying to remember how to act human and his smirk just grows, ridiculous and perfect.
there are also moments where he surprises you with genuine curiosity.
during a break one day, he asks, “hey, what’s it like in there? do you see the game okay?” and you stumble over some incoherent answer, but he leans closer, listening like it’s really that important. you realize you’re talking to him, really talking, through a stupid wolf costume, and he’s fully engaged, smiling, leaning in close enough that you feel his warmth through the thick padding.
with every interaction, you see him noticing more — your height through the suit, your hands, your laugh and your quirks that you never want anyone to see. and the crush, which was already ridiculous, deepens, becomes this gnawing, yearning ache that you can’t ignore.
weeks pass and as you grow to like gojo to an impossibly level, the interactions become almost ritualized.
gojo and his teammates love to “challenge” you to silly things during warm-ups: can you dance faster than me? can you dodge our fake attacks? can you throw popcorn at us without falling over? and somehow, through all this chaos, you start to learn his rhythm, his humor, the way he teases without hurting anyone. once, he even crouched behind you during a timeout and whispered, “don’t let anyone see, but you’re my favorite person here,” and the costume head muffled your scream of embarrassment. he just laughed and patted the top of the head, like it was the most normal thing in the world to make you melt under a fluffy disguise.
you notice the way he looks for you during breaks, scanning the court until he spots the mascot, and that small flicker of recognition in his eyes sends your heart into orbit. he’s playful, ridiculously confident and every time he rests an arm on your shoulder or nudges you during a playfight, it’s like he’s leaving little breadcrumbs of intimacy for you to follow.
you start to anticipate it, secretly savouring the touches, the glances, the way he smiles at you when he thinks no one is watching. of course, it’s kind of all distorted because you have this annoying suit on, but sometimes, when you think about taking off the mascot head to see his reaction, a part of you fears losing the magic of the teasing, the hiddenness that lets him be soft and funny in a way he might not if he knew exactly how flustered you are.
you sweat and stumble in the costume, he teases and flirts with the most effortless charm, and your heart grows heavier with every laugh and carelessly whispered comment. you learn the cadence of his humor, the curve of his smile, the subtle way he leans in when he’s interested.
he leans against you and talks to you and asks you about yourself and gets berated by his coach for wasting so much time talking to you. you long to hear his voice clearly every time, long to have him open himself even more to you, yet you are now trapped under this stupid fur and his curiosity about you hasn’t tipped over the edge of wondering what you look like under the suit. it bothers you but you don’t wanna lose anything you have.
and your interactions get progressively bolder, though still wrapped in the safe, ridiculous veil of the costume. sometimes he leans close enough to murmur jokes that only you hear, other times he nudges your mascot paws as if testing boundaries, all while keeping that teasing, affectionate grin. the season passes in a blur of games, dancing around each other, swift touches, whispered compliments and heart-thudding glances, building this unspoken tension between the two of you — a secret bubble of warmth, humour and maybe something more, all hidden beneath the fluff of the suit.
and you can’t help but wonder, what will happen when the game season will be over and there will be no need for a furry jumping around the court?
—
the last game of the season feels wrong from the moment you put on the mascot costume.
everything about it feels too final — the way the gym is louder tonight, packed with people; the way the lights feel brighter. you’re standing behind with the giant head under your arm, staring at the court as the crowd fills in, noise swelling like a heartbeat. your heartbeat. there’s a dull ache under your ribs, something heavy and breathless. you’ve been trying not to think about it all week, but you can’t stop thinking now: this is it. after tonight, i won’t have a reason to be near him anymore.
the season that held all the moments you’ve come to cherish is about to end. and when it does? you’re just… nobody again. you swallow hard, adjusting the oversized paws. you feel stupid being emotional about it, but god, it hurts in a way you’re not ready to name.
he finds you before the game even starts.
gojo jogs over from warm-ups, hair pushed back with a sweatband, jersey clinging to him in the most distracting way imaginable. he beams when he sees you, like you’re the highlight of his night and you want to think that he’s been searching for you, just you, in the whole crowd. it’s a dangerous thought.
“wolfie!” he calls out, dramatically, with way too much warmth in his voice. “one last dance, huh?”
you pretend to salute, because you can’t speak right now, not with your throat full of emotion.
he leans his elbow on your head again and leans down, murmuring softer this time, “hey… don’t look so down. you okay in there?”
you nod, vigorously. he squints, reading you too easily. “hmm. i’ll be paying attention.”
you wave him off quickly, but your hands tremble a little. he tilts his head, studying you with an almost worried fondness, like he knows something’s wrong and he cares. god, that makes it worse.
the game starts. the gym roars. lights flash. sneakers squeak on the polished floor. everything moves fast and loud and bright, but your chest feels tight. you cheer, you dance, you wave your paws — all your usual routines — but everything feels like goodbye. every cheer feels heavier. every silly dance routine feels like you’re performing through a lump in your throat. you try to hype the crowd, wave the giant mascot paws, run around like usual, but inside you’re terrified.
what if this is the last time he even acknowledges me? what if once the mascot’s gone… i disappear too?
and every time gojo passes you on the court, he taps your paw or sends you a grin. at halftime, he jogs over — sweat-damp hair, bright smile, eyes searching instinctively for your costume. he spots you immediately and grins like he always does, that grin that makes your heart ache. he bumps your shoulder with his.
“hey,” he says softly. “you better be cheering for me extra hard tonight.”
you nod a little too fast, too jerky. he laughs a little, uncertain.
“okay, okay, don’t overheat on me,” he murmurs, and pats the top of your head. you turn away before he can see how your shoulders sag.
the second half is agony. he’s amazing on the court — fast, sharp, glowing with adrenaline. the crowd chants his name again and again, and every time they do, your chest tightens.
because he’s brilliant. everyone knows it. everyone sees him.
the game ends(they win, naturally) and the gym explodes with cheers. the players celebrate, hugging, shouting, slapping hands. you jump around like you’re supposed to, heart a mess in your chest.
but you can’t do it for long.
you can’t handle him walking up to you after the game, because afterward, when you take the mascot off, he’ll never look at you the same way again.
so you run.
as soon as the crowd floods the court, you bolt into the back hallway behind the bleachers, heart pounding, lungs tight, desperate to escape before he can see you. before he can unsee you. you don’t want to see his face when he realizes you’re just… you. not a cute mystery. not someone interesting enough to tease and seek out. you don’t look back.
you duck into an empty equipment room near the locker rooms, ripping the mascot head off with shaky hands, gasping for air. your hair is plastered to your forehead, your cheeks burning. you feel horrible; small and stupid for caring this much. how could you be so dumb? thinking this was something when it was really nothing and gojo was just being nice, and he probably would have been nice to anyone under the idiotic wolf suit.
you press your back to the wall, closing your eyes, trying to calm down—
“hey!”
you turn just as he reaches the doorway. he stops dead when he sees you holding the head in your hands, your face flushed, hair sticking to your temples. gojo stands, still in his jersey, a towel slung around his neck, chest rising and falling from the chase. sweat glints on his collarbone. he looks like he just ran a marathon.
his mouth falls slightly open.
your eyes fly open in horror.
you panic, lifting the mascot head like a shield. “no— don’t look at me!”
he stops in front of you, eyes widening and then immediately oftening. “why not?” he asks, voice so gentle you want to escape.
“i’m— i look— awful,” you stutter. “i’m sweaty and red and gross and— i didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“but it’s you,” he says quietly.
you swallow. “i— i didn’t want you to see me at all.”
his brow furrows, hurt flashing across his face. “why?”
you look down, clutching the stupid furry head like a shield. “because the season’s over. and when i’m not the mascot anymore, you won’t… you won’t care. or talk to me. i didn’t want to see that happen.”
he stares at you like you’ve said the most insane thing he’s ever heard. there’s a moment of silence. his expression shifts — confusion, realization, then something heartbreakingly tender.
he walks right up to you, gently takes the mascot head from your shaking hands and sets it aside.
“look at me.”
you do, reluctantly so. you still try to fix and smooth away your hair, but gojo is quick to usher your hands away. “can i…” he hesitates, rare for him. “can i see your face properly?”
you nod, trembling.
he reaches up, brushing your hair out of your eyes with surprisingly gentle fingers. every touch is soft, hesitant, sweet and so different from his loud, confident courtside self. he looks at you like you’re somehow more dazzling than the whole stadium.
then he whispers, “yeah. yeah, you’re even cuter than i imagined.”
your breath catches. “gojo—”
“satoru,” he corrects quietly, eyes flicking to your lips. “call me satoru.”
your heart stutters. “satoru.”
his smile turns soft and crooked, like you just handed him something precious. it’s one of his prettiest smiles, the one you’ve reserved a special place in your mind, and having it directed at you is breathtaking.
he leans in close, close enough that you feel his breath on your cheek, and murmurs, “can i…?”
you barely nod before he presses the smallest, sweetest kiss to the corner of your mouth. it’s so unlike anything you’ve ever imagined your first kiss from a boy being, but it’s the best thing. you feel like you’re gonna pass out but gojo’s presence is enough to remind you that this is real and this is him and he is kissing you. it’s soft and warm, like a gentle promise or a hesitant question.
you gasp, eyes wide, and he laughs quietly against your skin as he thumbs at it.
your throat tightens when your brain reminds you of another thing. “but the season— it’s over.”
“yeah.” he smiles, this gentle, lopsided thing that makes your knees weak. “but i’m not done with you. not even close.”
you blink up at him, trembling on the inside.
“…really?”
he laughs, soft and breathless, and brushes a strand of your hair back. you’re briefly reminded of how gross you must be looking, but satoru looks at you so happily you forget all about it.
“you think i’m letting you go now? after seeing how pretty you are? no way.”
your heart floods with something warm and terrifying and overwhelmingly good. you laugh a shaky little sound and he catches it like it’s precious.
“c’mon,” he murmurs, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “let me take you out. without the costume, preferably.”
you finally smile, allowing yourself to relax. “okay.”
his grin widens into something bright, relieved and just a little bit smug.
“don’t run from me again, okay?”
he presses a quick kiss on your lips.
“i chase really fast.”
i decided to tag people who left cute comments under the first part hehe(but do ignore this if you’re not interested, i’m not forcing anyone to reas!!): @vaniique @sereneaede @freyavesta @sorilyae @sweetieelilii @webshooterrr9 @cupidslie @makiette @satorugooner @mulfic @ssetsuka @untouchablegojo
work belongs to @KIRALOGY — please refrain from copying or plagiarising.
