characters: popular cosplayer!geto x obsessed assistant!reader x nerdy roommate!gojo
very inspired by @indiewritesxoxo's Patreon works + characterisation of our beloved jjk men (my first & short attempt at a messy triangle!)
Synopsis: After stumbling into what you deem as the hottest male specimen alive in a convention, you spiralled into a desperate parasocial relationship with Geto Suguru. Your efforts to be noticed paid off, and you landed yourself the unpaid gig of his event assistant and occasional stress relief. Being with him on his terms still meant that you were with him. What if his nerdy roommate promises an even better deal though?
tags: mild angst, unrequited love, situationship, vague piv smut, fluff, awkward gojo, religious imagery, reader with low self esteem :(
Cosplayer!Geto soon realised what a goldmine monetising his interests could be when he factored in his physique and honeyed voice, quickly grasping how he’d cornered a niche market when he found out how easy it was to hop from a nerd to a viral thirst trap sensation overnight.
God, it was actually laughable how easy it was to rack up followers and to be hired for events when he had only just started taking this whole cosplay nonsense seriously 6 months ago.
All the animes and games he and his buddies were teased ruthlessly for liking in school suddenly made him rich, the stream of gigs and attention never ceasing.
In your defense, you hadn’t planned on becoming obsessed – turning on notifications for every single image he posted, keeping an eye on any event he’d be boothing at.
You met him at his first proper event, when he was still a fairly new cosplayer with a loyal fanbase that was steadily growing.
You weren’t even supposed to show up for that event, until your friend offered you an extra ticket that would have otherwise been wasted.
It also wasn’t your fault how he would sign your name with a silver heart, making sure to run his thumb over your hand when he handed you the signed instant photo you paid way too much for.
He added a comma after dearest.
You knew you weren’t the prettiest, or the hottest, or the cleverest, or the richest.
But at least you had him.
One event soon turned into five, and then ten, and you’d sooner part with all the money you had in your account than miss one of his appearances.
Of course, as he catapulted to fame, so did his prices.
It was all worth it when his eyes seemed to pick you out from the sea of fans each time.
You’d recognise them anywhere – no matter what coloured contacts he’d put on.
Commenting on his reels and makeup tutorials wasn’t enough anymore.
You sent message after message, eagerly soaking in any ounce of attention he was willing to toss your way.
There was something magnetic about him. You relished every bit of his affection, lapping it up and devouring whatever he fed you.
When he decided to offer premium subscriber content, you whipped out your card without a moment of hesitation.
Who cares if your bank account was dipping dangerously close to the negatives? You could always pick up more shifts at work.
Loyalty was always one of your best traits.
And that was how you found yourself perched meekly by his side at events, holding up a payment code for other girls to get the same treatment you craved.
Thee Geto Suguru’s personal assistant.
Sure it was unpaid, but your new role meant that you could stare unabashedly at him in person now instead of through a screen, brushing a hand against his as you desperately tried to corral the burning flush in your cheeks.
The downside was having to see what his job entailed – intimate poses, sweet nothings in the ear, his warm hand cupping another’s cheek.
The first few events had bile rising in your throat, words lodged painfully as you struggled to tamp your jealousy, your envy, your revolting hatred for these other women.
But at least you were the one by his side, right?
Exposure therapy after a few events definitely helped with that intense knee-jerk reaction, and you soon talked yourself into some degree of begrudging tolerance.
After all, Suguru let you see a side of him that no one else did.
You were his favourite, just like how he was yours.
After helping to pack up his booth, he would present you a lone flower, pulled simply from the large bouquet he had received from the event organisers.
For being his pretty little assistant, he always whispered, before pressing you against the wall of a grimy alley near his car.
When the two of you were out of earshot of anyone else, he’d peel your skirt away, hoisting you up to guide your legs around his waist.
The rough brick dug into your skin, but the feel of him was all-encompassing and everything else faded away.
He often made the world feel so… unimportant.
SuguruSuguruSuguruSuguruSuguru
You worshipped devoutly and chanted his name like a prayer.
Faithful to a fault, and sweetly understanding when he took hours or even days to reply.
After he chased his high and ensured you got yours with quick, relentless rolls of his thick fingers, he pulled himself out.
But what happens when the sun goes out?
The resultant crater of missing him was deathly cold; the sticky aftermath of your joint fumble in the dark trickling down your core and trembling tights.
Cupping your face, Geto murmured faint praises while adjusting your clothes, promising to get you a ride home.
He’d never drive you himself though, and you never asked.
You were just so damn happy you got to touch him, even if your caress never saw the light of day.
As painful as it was to be a shameful secret, a vile little lie, you soon convinced yourself to be content.
It was a miracle a man like Geto Suguru even looked your way.
Of course, you didn’t expect his roommate to challenge the tenet of your religion the first time you met him.
When you arrived at his door, you sent him a quick message like you typically did, not wanting to ring the bell and risk bothering anyone else.
Instead of having to wait a few minutes, the door opened impossibly fast, and you found yourself in front of a towering man with tousled white hair and impossibly thick frames clutching a trash bag.
It’s only after you remembered to close your gaping mouth that you looked down and a giggle escaped you.
The man was decked out in fluffy pink Koromon slippers and Koromon-printed boxes that contrasted his plain white sleep shirt which draped over his large, lean frame.
This tall stranger froze, seemingly unaccustomed to visitors and naturally, being seen in his pyjamas.
It was only until your soft voice broke some of the tension that he visibly relaxed.
“I… I like your slippers. I really wanted to get them before they sold out.”
There was something to be said about how you managed to sound completely sincere and heartfelt to Gojo in that moment.
As if he were a sleeper agent, his bright azure eyes lit up and his lips twitched upwards.
Unbeknownst to you, Gojo’s embarrassment paled in comparison to his desire to ramble on about his favourite nerdy interests.
After all, lurking on forums is one thing – but actually having the chance to share about his interests to a pretty girl who didn’t have the look of scorn in her eyes? He wasn’t that big of an idiot to let you slip away.
“Don’t even get me started about the scalpers! I had to run to five stores before I could get that limited edition pack.” The man before you ranted, unexpectedly enthused to be in his sleep attire in front of a stranger.
You blinked comically like an owl, trying to process what was happening.
To an outsider, the encounter might seem to be brimming with awkwardness and tension, but you soon found his dorky childlike glee endearing.
When was the last time you wore your heart on your sleeve like that?
Especially now with Suguru, you constantly had to plaster on a veneer of nonchalance and calm that belied your love and passion.
It was nice to finally put down that wall, even if it was just temporary.
The reminder that you were still supposed to meet Suguru and help him for an upcoming event didn’t slip your mind though, and soon you gently cut Gojo off with a small smile.
“You must be Suguru’s roommate. Um, I’m here to help with his event. Is he here?”
Instantly, his brows furrowed and his face fell.
“Oh! I’m Gojo. Yeah, I’ve heard of you. But uh, he didn’t tell me he was expecting you this morning. I’ll let him know – just, just come on in and sit.”
After ushering you in and gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable on the couch in the living room, Gojo slipped towards the cluster of bedroom doors.
He didn’t have to make it far when it was painfully clear why Geto wasn’t greeting you at the door like he typically did when he requested your help.
Breathy moans and muffled whines emanated from a closed door, causing Gojo to freeze the second time that morning.
The blood in your body turned to ice and you stiffened instinctively.
You tried not to notice when Gojo cast you surreptitious glances, his panic and uncertainty growing. His raised fist paused midway, and he stopped himself from rapping on the wooden door.
What followed next didn’t help one bit.
The telltale slam of a headboard, and smacks of skin only confirmed what you tried your hardest to deny.
You weren’t even a bedwarmer for the man.
You were reserved for alleyway fucks and dark corners.
You weren’t even a shameful secret for him to hide.
For someone lacking that much in the self esteem department, you surprisingly managed to hold onto the resolution not to shed any tears in front of Gojo with an iron grip.
Leaping to your feet, you grabbed your purse from the couch and headed straight for the door. The pain from biting your lip impossibly hard was nothing compared to the sheer agony of how everything in your heart basically imploded on itself though.
“Hey– hold up! Wait! Just a sec–”
You couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to see the look of pity on Gojo’s face. It must have been painfully clear that you were in love with his asshole of a roommate.
Any regard for consideration went out the window and you barrelled through the door like a storm, slamming it shut in your wake.
As you scrambled down the stairs, you focused on breathing in and exhaling, reminding yourself to just run.
It was only when you finally left the apartment complex and turned a corner near a convenience store that you stopped to catch your breath, shaking from the exertion and adrenaline.
What does one do when one loses faith?
What other deity takes its place?
You’ve spent so much of your time and love on Suguru; you didn’t know who you were without being his follower.
A sobering splash of ice cold water seemed to jolt you back to reality. The actual reality of who you were before you let yourself orbit around Geto.
Shaking now from indignation and determination, you dug out your phone from your purse to block Geto everywhere.
A hushed whisper coming from behind you made you spin around in alarm, nearly losing your balance from the whiplash.
A firm hand grabbed you by the arm, stabilising you before enveloping you into a crushing hug.
“He’s a dick. I knew you liked him.”
Being anchored against his chest began to chip away at your resolve alarmingly fast.
In that moment, being ensconced in his warm embrace – you couldn’t help the shuddering wave of tears and the racking sobs.
Is this how it would have felt if Geto actually liked you?
As the tears subsided, you belatedly realised that Gojo had been patting your head, his hand moving up and down almost mechanically, as if he were afraid of fracturing you further.
His white shirt now soaked, you pulled back from his embrace, taking him in whilst pawing at your puffy face clumsily to wipe away the remnants of your grief.
The silence seemed to drag on as your gaze hovered at the splotches on Gojo’s shirt, before lowering to the familiar pink fluffy monstrosity that was Koromon on his feet.
A frenzied peal of laughter filled the air when you realised that this man chased you down a street in pink fuzzy slippers and his cartoon-printed boxers.
Wordlessly, you leaned forward, letting Gojo rest his chin on the top of your head.
In that corner street, the two of you silently soaked in the sun, your heartbeat slowing to match his in tandem.
For once, you didn’t really care about anyone else but yourself.
Once upon a time, radio silence would have stung – for an entire week, Geto didn’t try to apologise or explain, much less reach out.
Even if you had blocked his contact, you knew he had other ways of finding you.
Perhaps a small part of you did leave him open avenues, so he could slink back into your life.
The parts of your life that used to be filled with Geto were suddenly replaced with movie marathons with Satoru, who mumbled that he’d like your number after dropping you at home that day.
Instead of fluorescent convention lights and practising awkward smiles, your life was now filled with Digimon reruns and game nights.
A heaping bowl of sweet caramel popcorn sat in between the two of you as Gojo reached in by the handfuls.
Being with Gojo… was easy.
“By the way, that voice actor–”
“The new Tamagotchi drop is–”
“I got a new board game. Wanna play?”
Suguru snagged your attention effortlessly, but you always had to try to become someone else with him. You had to work so hard to transform into someone you thought deserved his affection.
While he demanded so much from you, Gojo just gave.
After your melt down, you never thought you’d be crying in front of Satoru again so soon.
But the man just loved to prove you wrong.
When he came over on a random Tuesday, armed with a simple cardboard box, he simply thrust it in your arms with an expectant look.
With your brow furrowed in confusion, you tore through layers of delicate tissue paper only to reveal a pair of pink fuzzy Koromon slippers in your size.
“H-how did you… It’s sold out everywhere!” you gasped, astonished and touched.
With a twinkle in his eye, Gojo dramatically put a finger to his lips and winked. “I have my ways. A magician never reveals.”
“Satoru! You didn’t have to!”
“Well, duh.” He rolled his eyes good naturedly. “I got it for you because I wanted to.”
You suppose you should have seen it coming. After months of never being seen, Gojo’s words hit hard, and for the second time in the short duration of knowing Satoru, you burst into tears.
I think I’m too lame for Suguru now, Gojo admits in the dark one day, the side profile of his face lit up by the incandescent television.
The vulnerable statement hangs in the air, as Satoru goes on to mumble about Geto going to clubs and events, partying and drinking, never wanting to game or watch the shows they used to watch together.
“He’s, like, got his own cult or something,” Gojo scoffs, miffed at losing his best friend.
Of course, it was unspoken -– that you used to be a member of his cult.
But you set aside the sour feeling, and focused on the man on the couch next to you. Belying his haughty tone, you detected a faint note of genuine sadness and shame.
Geto moved on to bigger, better things while he stayed a loser. A nerd. A dork. All the labels everyone used to slap on him before pointing and laughing.
You knew what that was like.
Placing a hand over his, you rubbed your thumb comfortingly.
It was your turn to be strong for Gojo.
Maybe it was the cheap beer, or the indulgent sweets.
Or the fact that you were two people who could understand and wallow in the same pain of loving someone who didn’t love you back the way you needed him to.
Under the cover of darkness, you were struck by an indescribable urge to kiss him.
To comfort him? Perhaps. You certainly didn’t relish in his sorrow, not when Satoru had been such a sweet and earnest friend. You wanted to make him feel better.
But you couldn’t admit for the longest time, until now that is, that it was mostly out of a desire to finally do something on your own terms, to finally be true to yourself without holding back.
“Satoru,” you began in a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
With a quirk of your lips, you murmured gently, “I knew you liked him. He’s a dick.” The familiar echo of the words he once said to you just felt right in that moment. Suppressing the urge to giggle, you tried to widen your doe eyes in faux sympathy, hoping to cheer him up.
That did it. Gojo burst into a sharp peal of laughter, caught off guard by your wittiness and ability to find humour in even the strangest and gravest of situations.
“At least I met you,” he admitted honestly.
You were glad you met him too. He wasn’t as suave as Geto, but his bluntness and piercing blue eyes always remained honest.
Just as he saw you, you were finally brave enough to see Gojo Satoru for who he was. Not Suguru’s roommate, or some nerdy guy trying to pick you up.
A lonely soul who commiserated.
A good man who tries, and fails, and tries again.
A man you loved, not a god you worshipped blindly. A man who loved you back.
“Move in with me,” you whispered.
The low volume belied your quiet conviction.
“Alright,” Satoru murmured in response, holding your gaze intently. “I’ll make pancakes every morning.”
A/N: super behind on my existing stories and drafts but I've been attending various community events and got hit with a lil idea heh to be honest I don't want writing to be a source of stress so I won't be committing to any upload schedule because my day job takes up way too much time...
Reblogs, comments, likes would be greatly appreciated! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟthank you taking the time to read!
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