if i may askโฆ.. are we getting a p2 of playground marriage?๐๐๐ฝ
Yes, of course! You guys will definitely be getting it. ๐ฆ I'm just currently figuring out how I want the story to flow and what scenes I should add. If you have any recommendations, dear butterflies, please let me know, I'd love to hear your ideas!
Also, I'm sorry if it's taking a little longer than expected. I'm currently balancing my personal life as well, so thank you so much for your patience and understanding. ๐
แฏโฝ๏ธ Featured Characters: Sae Itoshi ร Reader - Rin Itoshi ร Reader - Seishiro Nagi ร Reader - Reo Mikage ร Reader - Michael Kaiser ร Reader - Yoichi Isagi ร Reader <SEPERATE>
แฏโฝ๏ธ They've loved you for as long as they can remember, but they've never truly recognized those feelings for what they were. It isn't until a certain moment or a sudden action and a simple realization that it finally hits them.
Warning & A/N: Possible mischaracterization ahead! We don't actually know how these characters would react when they fall in love or realize they're in love, so a lot of this is based on my own interpretation and opinions I've asked from other fans, I even read some fanfics trying to focus on their personalities. This is just how I personally think they would react, whether they'd confess, deny their feelings, panic, or do something else entirely. Feel free to have your own interpretation this is simply my take on it. And the pictures, I got them from Pinterest.
@thetwinkims @4rmyf1cs @starryartificersanctuary
Sae Itoshi finished practice earlier than usual that day.
When he stepped out, the rain was already falling in heavy, unbroken sheets, but there you were again, in the same place as always, waiting like it was something ordinary, something you had never once questioned. He had seen it before, this exact moment repeated so many times it should have felt familiar, predictable even. And yet, this time, something about it didn't sit the same in his chest.
You were still just standing there in the rain, waiting for him like you always did, but to Sae, it felt like the scene had shifted slightly out of place, like something he used to understand without effort had suddenly gained weight he couldn't explain.
"Sae!!"
Your voice cut through the rain like it always did.
He let out a quiet sigh as his gaze lifted toward you. But when you came closer, something was different. It wasn't new. It shouldn't have been new.
Were your eyes always that bright?
Was your hair always that perfect?
He knew it was, he's seen you take care of it every day, fixing it with that same quiet care, like it mattered more than it should. And still, in this moment, it lookedโฆ sharper. It was more vivid. Like the rain itself refused to dull you.
You stood there glowing in his vision the way you always did, familiar in a way he couldnโt explain. So why was it only now that he noticed it? No. he had always seen it. He just didn't understand why it suddenly felt like he was seeing you for the first time again.
"You ok?" you asked, falling into step beside him like it was second nature.
Sae only responded with a low hum, already slipping into the familiar rhythm of the walk. Routine. Automatic. He took your umbrella without a word and tilted it over both of you, thenโlike he always didโdraped his jacket over your shoulders before you could even complain. You didn't, of course. You just kept talking, completely used to his gestures, like they were as ordinary as breathing.
You rambled about your day, about nothing and everything at once, your voice blending into the steady rhythm of the rain.
And Sae listened.
But somewhere between your words and the sound of water hitting the umbrella, something kept pressing against his chest. It is irritating but persistent in a way he couldn't name. He clicked his tongue under his breath, as if that could silence it, but it only lingered there, stubborn as the rain, refusing to fade.
Once you reached your houseโhis hotel just a short walk awayโthe two of you slowed to a stop like the world itself knew the routine was ending.
You handed him back his jacket, fingers brushing it off your shoulders, while he returned your umbrella without a word. Like always. Like every other day it had rained, like every walk had ended the same way, like nothing about this moment was supposed to feel different at all.
"Bye Sae, see you tomorrow!"
You said it lightly, as if tomorrow was guaranteed, as if he would always be there waiting on the other side of your voice. Then you added a playful flying kiss, something you gave without hesitation to people you cared about.
He was supposed to be used to it.
"โฆBye." Sae replied, voice flat as ever.
But he didn't move right away.
He stayed there, just long enough to watch you step inside, just long enough for the door to close between you and him like it always did. Only this time, the sound felt louder than usual. He stood in the rain, still, listening to nothing, and for some reason his heartbeat refused to match the calm expression on his face.
He pulled out his own umbrella.
To anyone watching, Sae Itoshi would still look the same. Calm, composed, untouched by anything as trivial as weather. The kind of person who didn't linger, didn't hesitate, didn't carry anything unnecessary. Just another walk back to his hotel, just another quiet end to a routine day.
If you had been there, though if you could have seen him now you might have noticed it. The slight tension in his grip. The way his gaze didn't quite settle on anything in particular. Something just slightlyโฆ off, like a note held too long after the music stopped.
He reached the hotel, went up to his penthouse, closed the door behind him. Lock. Silence.
Only then did the composure finally loosen.
Sae found himself in his bedroom without remembering walking there properly, leaning back against the wall as if it could steady something inside him that refused to stay still. His mind, usually sharp and quiet, kept circling back to you.
Your voice, your steps beside him, the way you looked at him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
It was getting annoying. It should've been nothing.
So why did it feel like losing you would change everything?
And in the stillness, with nothing left to distract him, Sae Itoshi realized it wasn't confusion he was feeling at all.
It was something far simpler and far more dangerous than he had ever bothered to name.
He is in love with you.
แฏโฝ๏ธ
Rin Itoshi always practiced late. This time was no different, except for the fact that he hadn't eaten anything yet. Grabbing a quick meal from the convenience store before heading home had been the plan.
But then he saw you.
Standing across the street, Rin watched as a girl stepped inside the convenience store. Not just any girl, it was you, his childhood friend. He had caught sight of you entering only a few minutes ago, and now his gaze remained fixed on the glass doors.
What the hell was she doing out buying something at this hour?
Before he knew it, Rin was already crossing the street.
The automatic doors of the convenience store slid open with a soft chime as he stepped inside, cool air brushing against his skin. His gaze immediately swept across the aisles, searching for you before he could even stop himself.
And that only irritated him more.
He walked straight toward you, long strides closing the distance in seconds. So focused on comparing the instant noodles in your hands, you didn't even notice him until he was standing beside you.
You flinched at his sudden presence, nearly dropping the cup in your hands.
"What are you doing here, idiot?" Rin muttered, the words coming out sharper than intended. It sounded more like a scolding than a question, but beneath the irritation lacing his voice was something that almost sounded like concern.
"Well, I could ask you the same thing."
You placed a hand on your waist, looking him up and down as if trying to act tougher than you actually felt.
Rin only responded with his usual glare, unimpressed and painfully unreadable. The look alone was enough to make your confidence waver.
"I'm here because I'm hungry." you said quickly.
He crossed his arms. "That's obviously not the whole story."
His tone was flat, but annoyingly accurate.
You let out a defeated sigh, shoulders dropping as you avoided his eyes."...I was studying and forgot to eat, okay?"
For a moment, Rin stayed silent. Then his brows furrowed slightly. "You're stupid," he muttered. "How do you forget something that basic?"
The words sounded harsh, but he was already reaching past you to grab a proper meal from the shelf instead of the instant snacks in your hands.
"Eat something decent before you pass out or something. I'm not carrying you home."
"Tsk, don't tell me that. I bet you forgot to eat too."
You narrowed your eyes at him accusingly, pointing a finger toward his chest.
Rin immediately looked irritated, lips parting like he was ready to throw a remark back at you. But the second of hesitation gave him away.
Because he had forgotten.
His expression darkened when he realized you noticed.
"...Shut up." he muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue in annoyance.
You blinked at him once before breaking into a knowing grin. "Wow. So you did forget."
Rin looked like he wanted to argue, pride clearly wounded, but even he knew there was no winning this one. The silence that followed was practically an admission itself.
And somehow, seeing that rare look of defeat on his face made you laugh quietly beneath the buzzing convenience store lights.
You snorted softly. "And yet you still take the drink every time."
"Tch."
He cracked it open with a hiss, leaning against the railing beside you. Damp strands of dark hair clung to his forehead, evidence of the extra hours he'd spent on the field long after everyone else had gone home. His shoulders looked heavy, exhaustion hidden beneath his usual cold expression.
"You know," you said, peeling back the lid of your noodles, "most people would say thank you."
Rin shot you a flat look. "Most people don't stalk my schedule."
"I don't stalk you. You're just too predictable."
"That's worse, idiot."
But despite the insults, he stayed beside you in the chilled night air, quietly drinking the bottle you bought him while you ate your noodles. And somehow, in Rin's own strange way, that was enough of a thank you.
Soon the quiet settled into something comfortable, filled only by the rustle of noodle cup and the occasional hiss of passing cars outside the store.
Rin leaned against the counter beside you, lazily twisting the bottle cap of his drink between his fingers. Under the lights, you caught sight of a new scrape across his knuckles. Red, small, and fresh, probably another practice session.
You frowned, and without thinking much of it, you dug through your pocket and pulled out a bandage. Rin glanced confused, before his gaze followed your hand.
"Hold still." You murmured.
"Whatโ"
You carefully took his hand before he could pull away. His skin was warm against yours, rough around the knuckles from years of soccer and constant practice. You pressed the bandaid gently over the scrape, smoothing it down with your thumb.
Your fingers brushed his.
It felt like someone had slammed a ball directly into his chest whenever you do this.
"You should be more careful," you said absentmindedly, smoothing the edge of the bandaid against his hand. "Good thing this one's small. I still remember how bad your scrape was last time."
His brain stopped functioning completely.
Rin froze mid-breath, chopsticks suspended awkwardly in his hand. The convenience store suddenly felt way too bright. The harsh lights burned into his vision while the hum of the refrigerators behind him grew unbearably loud.
The memory slammed back into him without warning. Bloodied knees, torn skin, your worried expression hovering over him while you scolded him for being reckless.
That injury had happened months ago after a brutal match. He could still recall you sitting beside him afterward, carefully cleaning the blood from his hands while scolding him for being reckless. Back then, he had spent the entire night pretending your touch didn't affect him.
It had only gotten worse since then.
Now your fingers were still lightly wrapped around his hand, completely unaware of the absolute disaster happening inside his head.
Rin stared at you silently, then quickly looked away.
"โฆYou remember weird things."
His voice came out quieter than usual.
You blinked. "Huh? Well, yeah. It looked painful."
Painful.
If only you knew what you were doing to him right now.
"โฆRin?"
Your voice snapped him back, and he realized heโd been frozen in place the entire time, still holding his drink half-raised like an idiot.
"Tch," he muttered quickly, yanking his hand back a little too fast. "Quit treating me like I'm five."
"Then stop acting like one."
Soon after he got home, he tried to rip the image of you from his mind and bury himself in his goal instead. He trained harder, pushed longer, convinced himself it was only distraction. Nothing more. Just frustration and weaknesses.
But during practice, his thoughts kept slipping back to you.
The possibility of you leaving him the way Sae did clawed at the back of his mind until he couldn't focus anymore. Every missed shot and every moment of irritation only made it worse.
Even the Isagi, the lukewarm brat noticed somethings wrong with him.
And in the middle of that frustration, the truth finally cornered him.
There was no outrunning it anymore.
Maybe if he said it out loud, these restless feelings would finally leave him alone. Maybe then he could breathe again.
So when the two of you met again, he looked at you for a long moment before quietly admitting the one thing he had been trying so hard to deny.
"I love you."
โI didn't put much details on the confession cause this story main focus is them realising they are in love.
แฏโฝ๏ธ
Nagi Seishiro sat in near silence in the Blue Lock communal lounge, save for the distant hum of vending machines and the occasional squeak of sneakers from the hallway outside. The air smelled faintly of floor wax and freshly washed laundry, clean and cold in a way that made the building feel sleepless.
Nagi Seishiro barely moved inside the beanbag chair swallowing him whole. His white hair spilled messily over his eyes as his phone hovered inches from his face.
'DEFEATED'
Bright red letters flashed across the screen again.
Nagi is playing a game on his phone, but he keeps losing. His character dies three times in a row because his eyes keep drifting to the doorway.
"โฆTch."
A few feet away, you sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning comfortably against the couch like you belonged there. Rin lounged above you on the cushions, one leg propped up while a tactical clipboard rested against his knee. The two of you were discussing formations for an upcoming practice match.
"You're overcompensating on the left side." you said, pointing at the diagram.
Rin clicked his tongue. "Because idiots keep losing possession in midfield."
You laughed at the irritation in his voice.
Nagi's thumbs freeze over his screen.
Ever since you joined Blue Lock as a support staff intern, Nagi assumed things would stay the same as they were back in high school. You were supposed to be his safe space, the one who shared half your bento and let him sleep on your shoulder during bus rides. You were his person.
But right now, you are looking at Rin.
A sharp, heavy pressure builds in Nagi's chest. It is a suffocating feeling, completely different from the physical exhaustion of soccer. It takes too much effort to feel this irritated. He doesn't like it.
"Hey," Nagi calls out, his voice a sleepy, flat drawl that cuts through the quiet room. "I'm hungry."
You look over, offering a familiar, patient smile. "Nagi, you ate dinner an hour ago. And you barely moved during training today."
"Moving my thumbs takes calories." Nagi mutters, staring at you fixed up from under his white bangs. "Come to the vending machine with me."
"Just a second," you say, turning back to Rin to finish a sentence about defensive positioning. Rin doesn't even look at Nagi, he just nods at your notes.
Nagi pushes himself up from the beanbag. The movement is sudden, lacking his usual sluggish grace. The plastic of his phone case groans slightly under his grip. He walks out of the lounge without another word, his slides dragging loudly against the linoleum floor.
The hallway is dark and empty. Nagi stops in front of the vending machine, staring blankly at the glowing rows of drinks. He punches the button for your favorite drink, the one you always bought him when he threw tantrums about walking to school.
The heavy aluminum can drops with a loud thud.
Nagi bends down, picks it up, and presses the freezing metal against his forehead. It doesn't cool down the strange, boiling heat in his chest.
Why am I doing this? he thinks, his eyes wide and completely vacant in the dark hallway. I didn't even want a drink.
He realizes he only walked out here because he wanted you to follow him. He wanted to pull you away from Rin. He wanted your eyes back on him, where they belonged. For years, he thought he kept you around because it was easy. But looking at the can in his hand, the truth hits him like a hard tackle to the ribs.
It wasn't because it was easy. It was because he never wanted to look at anyone else.
The door to the lounge clicks open. Your footsteps approach, hesitant. "Nagi? You forgot your wallet, so I broughtโ"
Nagi turns around fast, cutting you off. He doesn't offer the drink. Instead, he steps into your space, looming over you with an intensity he usually saves for the penalty box. He drops his forehead onto your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck, letting his heavy frame relax entirely against you.
"Nagi? What's wrong?" you ask, hands hovering over his back in surprise.
"Everything is a pain," Nagi whispers, his voice muffled against your collarbone, his grip tightening around your waist. "Don't talk to the others anymore. Just look at me."
He finally gets what Reo meant when he says he is active when it comes to you. Back in high school, Reo used to laugh about it while sprawled lazily across his desk, watching Nagi trail after you without even realizing it himself. "You know you only move that fast when it comes to them, right?" Nagi had dismissed it immediately. Too troublesome to think about.
But now, sitting in the dim Blue Lock lounge with the cold glow of his phone illuminating his face, he realized Reo had been right all along.
Because Nagi hated effort. He hated going out of his way for people, hated inconvenience, hated emotional complications even more. Yet somehow, none of those rules ever applied to you. Not when you asked him for favors. Not when you needed company. Not even when you dragged him into things he normally would have ignored without hesitation.
He carried your things without complaint, waited for you after class back then even when it wasted his time, and remembered tiny details about you despite forgetting almost everything else people told him.
And finally, he understood the bothersome feeling he kept having whenever you were around.
Nagi Seishiro is in love with you.
แฏโฝ๏ธ
The rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Mikage estate sounds like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds of a peace Mikage Reo doesnโt realize he is about to lose.
You are sitting on the floor, your back resting against his knees as he sits on the sofa. You are completely engrossed in your notes, the soft scratch of your pen against paper the only sound filling the massive library. Reo is supposed to be reading a business proposal his father sent over, but his eyes haven't moved past the first paragraph in twenty minutes.
Instead, he is watching the rhythm of your studying.He knows everything about your habits.
He has known you since you both were seven years old. For a decade, you have been his anchor, the one person who never looked at him and saw a giant bank account or a stepping stone to power. You just saw Reo.
He always categorized you as permanent. A comfortable, unchanging baseline in his highly calculated life.
Then, you shift. You lean back further against his legs, letting out a frustrated groan as you flip to a new page of calculations. "Reo, my brain is short-circuiting. Give me your hands."
Without thinking, he sets his tablet down and extends his hands. You grab his right hand, your fingers cool against his palm, and begin to mindlessly massage the base of his thumb, a habit you always do when trying to memorize difficult formulas. It is a completely normal gesture between the two of you. You've done it a hundred times after long study sessions or arcade marathons.
But this time, something goes entirely wrong with Reo's internal system.
The moment your fingers press into his palm, a sharp, electric jolt shoots up his arm, settling directly in his chest. His breath hitches. He stares down at the top of your head, watching the way you lean into his space without a single shred of hesitation.
Suddenly, the air in the massive library feels entirely too thin.
What is this? his mind scrambles. Right now, his heart is hammering against his ribs with a violence that defies logic.
He listens to you mutter a formula under your breath. He imagines someone else sitting here helping you study. He imagines some faceless stranger from university holding this hand, sharing this quiet room with you. He imagines you pressing your back against someone else's knees, giving them this effortless, unguarded warmth.
The mere thought hits his stomach like a physical blow. It turns into a dark, possessive panic that completely paralyzes him.
"Reo? You're tensing up," you say, turning slightly to look up at him. Your expression is filled with genuine concern. "Does your hand hurt from practice? Am I pressing too hard?"
He looks down into your eyes, and the final piece of his carefully constructed reality shatters.
He doesn't just value your presence. He doesn't just want to protect this friendship. The terrifying, undeniable truth floods his entire chest, drowning out every calculation he has ever made. His fingers involuntarily tighten around yours, anchoring you to him, as his mind finally forces him to speak the words he has been running from.
"No," Reo whispers, his voice thick, finally understanding the beautiful, ruinous weight of what he is feeling. "Just don't leave me."
You are his treasure from the very start, the treasure he loves.
แฏโฝ๏ธ
The worn-out football on his bedroom floor was a constant reminder of where Michael Kaiser had started. Back then, before the blue rose was inked onto his neck, you were the only person who looked at a bitter, bruised boy and saw something worth saving. Now, as a genius striker for Bastard Mรผnchen, he was used to people wanting to use him for his fame, but as he sat across from you in his room, his chest felt strangely tight.
He was supposed to be an emperor who ruled the pitch through sheer malice, but just hours earlier, the roaring stadium had felt entirely dead to him.
Before the match, you had told him you couldn't make it to the game, and the moment he stepped onto the grass, his sharp blue eyes had immediately scanned the VIP stands, searching frantically for your face. When he found nothing but a sea of strangers, a hollow, cold emptiness settled deep in his chest, even after he executed a flawless, impossible goal, he had felt absolutely nothing, until he looked up at the mega-screen and saw your face in the crowd, wildly cheering and looking so fiercely proud of him. A massive wave of relief had washed over him right then, making that single goal mean entirely more to him than any championship ever should, a lingering warmth that followed him all the way back to his room where he now sat across from you.
"You're tracking that ball like it's a defender, Micha," you said, tossing the leather up and catching it with a soft thud. "Are you going to steal it from me?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Kaiser scoffed, leaning back against his headboard with his usual theatrical smirk. "I only steal things that have actual value."
But the bite in his voice lacked its usual venom. He watched you casually toss the ball up and down, completely unaffected by his intimidating 'superstar' aura, and he found himself tracking the movement of your hands with an intense, uncharacteristic focus.
The silence between you stretched, but it wasn't the hostile, tactical silence Kaiser usually weaponized against his opponents. It was thick with a heavy, unnamable tension that made his pulse race for a reason that had absolutely nothing to do with soccer.
"Come here," you sighed gently, setting the ball aside and crawling onto the edge of the mattress. "Your hair is a disaster. Let me take these braids out before you snap them off."
His entire body locked up from the sudden proximity. He felt a sharp prickle of panic as your fingers brushed against the thorns of his tattoo, realizing with terrifying clarity that his carefully built armor didn't work against you.
"You're too soft," he murmured, his eyes closing automatically under the soothing touch. "In my world, softness gets you killed."
"Good thing you're not on the pitch right now, then," you countered softly, your thumb grazing the nape of his neck. "You don't have to play the emperor here."
The words hit him like a physical blow. Kaiser opened his eyes, staring at the floor as his chest heaved. The grand narrative of his life. The fame, the goals, the absolute dominance over his peers, suddenly felt entirely hollow unless you were there to witness it. He didn't want a world where he conquered everyone if it meant coming back to a room where you weren't waiting.
He reached up and firmly grabbed your wrist to stop your movements, his sharp blue eyes searching your face as the absolute certainty of his own vulnerability finally broke through his pride.
"Micha?" you blinked, surprised by the intensity in his gaze. "Am I hurting you?"
"No." he rasped, his voice rough and stripped of all its usual theatrical flair.
He could no longer deny the truth that had been quietly building since childhood, recognizing that he didn't want to conquer or trample you like the rest of the world. As he pulled your hand down to press his forehead against your knuckles, the chaotic noise in his mind finally fell away, leaving him with the undeniable realization that
Michael Kaiser loves you.
แฏโฝ๏ธ
The walk home from the train station was supposed to be normal, but Isagi Yoichi was completely malfunctioning.
You walked shoulder-to-shoulder with him, balancing a convenience store plastic bag on your wrist. It was dusk, the streetlights just beginning to flicker on, casting long shadows on the pavement. Usually, you two would bicker about nothing, or he would eagerly ramble about his latest match. Tonight, he was a ghost.
"Yoichi," you said, stepping directly into his line of sight and forcing him to stop walking. "Are you even here right now? You've missed two turns, and you're frowning so hard your forehead is going to stay like that."
Isagi violently flinched, his blue eyes snapping to your face. His chest tightened. His brain immediately started running a chaotic, useless diagnostic report.
The distance is less than two feet, my heart rate is skyrocketing, i dont know why, the cause is unknown.
"I'm fine!" Isagi blurted out, his voice a pitch higher than usual. He quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just... thinking about a new playstyle, Strategic pieces. You know."
"Right. Soccer," you sighed, reaching out to tap his cheek. "Well, stop overthinking it for five minutes. You're going to trip."
The moment your fingertips brushed his skin, Isagi's entire system completely crashed. His hands shoved deep into his pockets so you wouldn't see them shaking. He just couldn't form a sentence. He just stared at you, his mind completely blanking on everything except the exact warmth of your fingers and the way the orange sunset hit your eyes. He looked terrified, like he had just encountered an opponent he couldn't read.
"I'm not overthinking." he muttered under his breath, looking intensely at the pavement as you both started walking again. He stayed quiet for the rest of the trek, completely consumed by the terrifying, illogical chaos in his chest.
When you finally reached your front gate, you waved him off with a smile. "Get some rest, Yoichi. Don't let your soccer brain explode."
"Yeah. See you." he managed to say, watching you slip inside your house.
The moment your front door clicked shut, Isagi let out a breath he felt like heโd been holding for miles. He leaned against your concrete wall, burying his face in his hands, completely overwhelmed.
"You look pathetic."
Isagi jumped, snapping his head up. Chigiri Hyoma was nearby a lamppost a few yards down the street, holding a sports drink and wearing a highly amused smirk. He had dropped by the neighborhood to meet up with Isagi before they had to head back to the Blue Lock facility.
"Chigiri?" Isagi gasped, trying and failing to regain his composure. "Whatโhow long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to watch you completely short-circuit just because they touched your face." Chigiri laughed, walking over and tossing the sports drink at Isagi's chest. Isagi caught it clumsily. "Seriously, Yoichi. I've seen you face down your toughest opponents without blinking, but your childhood friend looks at you and you forget how to speak?"
"It's not like that," Isagi defended weakly, his face burning bright red in the twilight. "It's just... an irregular physical reaction. A glitch in my focus. I'm trying to calculate why my chest feels so heavy whenโ"
Chigiri sighed, cutting him off with a sympathetic but exhausted shake of his head. He looked back at your closed front door, then turned his sharp eyes to Isagi, delivering the final piece of the puzzle that Isagiโs genius brain could never solve on its own.
Isagi froze, his fingers tightening around the sports drink until the plastic loudly crinkled. Chigiri's words hung in the crisp evening air, entirely dismantling the tactical walls Isagi had built to protect his sanity.
"W-What?" Isagi stammered, his terrifying on-field voice completely replaced by a panicked squeak.
"You heard me, Isagi." Chigiri said, spinning on his heel to start walking down the street toward the station. He didn't even look back, knowing exactly what kind of face the striker was making. "You're completely whipped. It's honestly hilarious. Its obvious you like her or you're inlove with her. Depends on the level."
He realized that the frantic pounding in his chest wasn't a glitch, and it wasn't a physical malfunction from overtraining. It was a completely new kind of drive.
The chaotic, terrifying system crash in his mind finally cleared, leaving behind a profound, undeniable truth that no soccer logic could ever dismantle.
โ summary:ย as if watching the guy you were hopelessly in love with hook up with another girl each weekend wasnโt enough, he also happened to be your best friend, making things extra complicated. and it only gets worse and worse once he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party one night.
โ warnings:ย some angst, some fluff, a lot of alcohol, jealousy, yoongi being a bit of a fuckboy, crying, reader being in an emotional rollercoaster during the whole fic. not proof-read because i am that lazy, iโm sorry.ย
How the hell did you always end up in the same situation?
It was a reoccurring event by now: You on the dancefloor of some strangerโs living room, a drink in your hand and your friends by your side. That itself didnโt sound too bad, if it wasnโt for the knot you felt in your stomach.ย
By now it was almost a familiar feeling; the pain and uncertainty have been ruining your last few Saturday nights out.
โWhatโs the problem?โ you almost couldnโt hear Hoseok yell over the loud music but his facial expressions gave away that he seemed worried about you.
โIโm fine,โ you promised and gave him a bright smile before raising your cup for him to toast with you โ both of you knew you werenโt fine at all but after being your friend for years Hoseok knew better than to harass you into telling what was occupying your mind.ย
You appreciated your friend very much for that, happy that he would never pressure you into saying out loud what almost everyone assumed anyways.
Though no one knew for sure what the reason for your mood swings was โ it was okay for them to assume it, but you would never admit it. If any of your friends found out you knew theyโd try to get involved and only would make things more awkward than they already were for you.
I know some writers love to make the Itoshi brothers fight over the reader but now that I am realistically trying to think about it, I don't think so that'll ever happen irl.
If you're Sae's girlfriend there's 0% chance Rin's gonna fall in love with you. Instead he'll hate you, will be jealous of you because you're loved by Sae, instead of HIM! How dare you snatch his brother away from him?
If you're Rin's girlfriend, Sae will be too busy suspecting you of being a gold digger/clout chaser. He'll probably even do a secret investigation on you by hiring a private detective just so he can understand your motives. He'll do everything to make sure his little brother won't end up being heartbroken. And finally, when he'll come to realise that your feelings for Rin are real, it'll be hard for him to accept. Because what do you mean the little boy whose drool he used to wipe all the time is now kissing and fucking a woman? He'll have a hard time accepting.
It'll be really funny being one of their lovers. You'll get to enjoy the Itoshi family drama, haha.
โง The Wedding of the Century โ where the strongest sorcerer in the world goes completely speechless the moment he sees you walking down the aisle. A grand wedding filled with chaos, laughter, tears, and a love so overwhelming even Gojo Satoru canโt hide it. White roses, shaky vows, stolen whispers, and a kiss that feels like forever. โก
Pairing: SatoruGojo x Reader
Series Masterlist โง
The entire venue looked like something pulled straight from a fairytale. White roses cascading over towering golden arches, crystal chandeliers scattering warm light across the ballroom, and the soft murmur of hundreds of guests filling the air as the music slowly began to rise. Every detail was lavish, elegant, almost impossibly grand. It was dramatic, breathtaking, a little chaotic beneath all the perfectionโฆ exactly the kind of wedding everyone would expect from Gojo Satoru.
And yet, for once in his life, Gojo Satoru fell completely silent.
Only moments ago, he had been leaning carelessly at the altar in a pristine black suit, flashing that familiar cocky grin while throwing playful remarks at his students to hide the nervous energy buzzing beneath his skin.
He looked relaxed.
Then the doors opened.
And everything stopped.
The teasing died on his tongue. The smirk faded. Even his breathing seemed to catch as his eyes found you standing at the end of the aisle.
Suddenly, the world around him blurred into nothing.
The orchestra became distant noise. The whispers of the crowd faded away. Camera flashes no longer existed. There was no grand venue, no guests, no ceremony waiting to begin.
There was only you.
Gojo simply stared, blue eyes wide with something dangerously close to disbelief, as if he couldn't quite comprehend how someone could look so breathtaking and still be real.
By the time you finally reached him, his grin returned, small at first, shaky around the edges, but filled with so much affection it nearly stole the breath from your lungs.
For a moment, Gojo just looked at you, like he still couldn't believe this was real. Then he let out a quiet laugh beneath his breath, squeezing your hands gently.
"โฆWow," he murmured. "You actually showed up."
You raised a brow immediately. "Were you expecting me to run away?"
"I mean, marrying me is a pretty terrifying decision."
"You say that like you weren't the one who almost tripped pacing around five minutes ago."
His eyes widened in fake offense. "Who told you that?"
"Everyone."
A soft wave of laughter spread through the guests, but Gojo barely noticed. His gaze never left yours, impossibly warm beneath all his usual arrogance.
"You look beautiful." he said suddenly, quieter this time. Honest.
The teasing vanished so quickly it made your chest ache.
You smiled softly. "You clean up nicely too."
"Oh, I know," he replied automatically, earning a small laugh from you before his expression softened again. "But seriouslyโฆ you're unreal."
His thumb brushed against your knuckles, careful and tender, like he was afraid this moment might disappear if he held too tightly.
And then, with the most boyish grin imaginable, he leaned down just enough to whisper. "Don't embarrass me by crying before I do, okay?"
Soon, the teasing quieted. The laughter softened into silence as the officiant smiled warmly between the two of you.
But deep inside Satoru is nervous, not the kind of nervousness he hid behind jokes or arrogance, but something raw and painfully sincere as he held your hands in his.
The officiant nodded gently. "You may begin your vows."
Gojo exhaled a soft laugh under his breath, shaking his head once as though he still couldnโt believe this was happening.
"I had a whole speech prepared," he admitted, earning quiet chuckles from the crowd. "It was supposed to be cool. Romantic. Probably life-changing, honestly."
You smiled, already feeling your eyes sting.
"But then you walked down the aisle and my brain completely stopped working."
More laughter echoed through the venue, though his gaze never left yours.
And then his voice softens. "But I thinkโฆ maybe that's always what you've done to me."
His fingers tightened gently around yours.
"I've spent my whole life being the strongest. Everyone expected me to carry everything alone because apparently Gojo Satoru can handle anything." He grinned faintly. "And yeah, maybe I can."
The grin faded into something quieter.
"But with youโฆ I never had to. You made me feel human before anything else. You stayed when you didn't have to. You loved every part of me, even the unbearable parts." He paused, eyes shining under the lights. "Especially the unbearable parts."
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.
Gojo immediately smiled. "Ah, there it is. Don't cry yet, baby, I'm trying to survive this too."
The guests laughed softly through their own tears.
Then he lifted your hands carefully, pressing his forehead lightly against your knuckles.
"So I promise," he whispered, voice trembling slightly, "to be the place you can always come home to. I'll make you laugh when life gets heavy. I'll stand beside you no matter how hard things become. And for the rest of my lifeโฆ I'll love you louder than every bad thing this world tries to throw at us."
Silence filled the venue afterward, heavy and emotional.
The officiant turned toward you.
"And your vows?"
You took a shaky breath, squeezing his hands back.
"Everyone thinks Gojo Satoru is impossible to keep up with," you began softly. "Too loud. Too arrogant. Too much."
Gojo gasped dramatically. "Wow. Starting strong."
You laughed through your tears before continuing.
"But they never see the version of you I do. The one who checks if I got home safely even when you pretend not to care. The one who acts childish just to make other people smile. The one who carries the weight of the world so quietly that sometimes I think you forget you deserve to rest too."
Satoru smile slowly disappeared into something fragile and overwhelmed.
"You love so deeply, Satoru," you whispered. "Even when you're afraid to show it."
By now, his eyes were unmistakably glossy.
"And I promise that no matter where life takes usโฆ no matter how chaotic, exhausting, or painful things becomeโฆ" You smiled softly. "I'll always choose you. In every lifetime."
Gojo looked seconds away from completely falling apart.
The entire venue burst into laughter again, the officiant chuckled warmly before lifting the ceremony book. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
A pause.
Then the words everyone had been waiting for.
"You may kiss the bride."
The applause erupted instantly, but Gojo barely heard any of it.
Because the second those words left the officiant's mouth, he was already pulling you toward him like he couldn't bear another second of distance.
One hand slid carefully to your waist while the other cupped your face with breathtaking gentleness, his thumb brushing beneath your eye to wipe away the tears gathered there.
For a brief moment, he simply looked at you.
Completely lovestruck.
Then he smiledโthat soft, ruined smile meant only for youโand leaned in.
The kiss was tender at first, warm and lingering, filled with every unsaid feeling between you both. The world around you exploded into cheers and clapping, cameras flashing endlessly, but none of it mattered.
Not when Gojo kissed you like you were the only thing he would ever need.
His forehead rested against yours when he finally pulled away, both of you breathless.
And quietly, softly enough that only you could hear, he whispered. "See? Told you you'd look pretty with my last name."
His thumb brushed over your knuckles carefully, tenderly, as though he was afraid too much pressure might make the moment disappear.
Like he was holding something precious.
Because he was.
And somehow, despite the elegance of the ceremony, everything quickly dissolved into the kind of chaos only Gojo Satoru could create.
Yuji was openly sobbing before the vows had even finished, dramatically blowing his nose into an entire stack of tissues while insisting he was "just really emotional about true love." Beside him, Nobara looked equally close to tears as she threatened at least three different guests for accidentally brushing against the floral arrangements.
"If one more person touches those roses," she snapped, fixing a grown man with a terrifying glare, "I'm personally throwing them into the fountain."
Meanwhile, Megumi stood near the back looking like he deeply regretted attending at all.
Every few minutes someone dragged him into another photo, another conversation, another round of teasing about how Gojo was officially someone's husband now, and each time his expression somehow became more exhausted.
At one point, Gojo threw an arm around his shoulders with an obnoxious grin. "Megumi, smile for the picture. Itโs a historic moment."
Megumi stared at the camera blankly. "I'd rather die."
Hi, sorry for disturbing you but didn't you post a blue lock fanfic about a character either yesterday or the day before by chance?
Yes dear butterfly, are you talking about the Sae one? I actually did write it, but I decided to put it back into my drafts because I started feeling a bit empty about it. Right now, I've decided to focus more on writing seperated various characters instead. While working on that Sae fic, I ended up thinking of so many different scenarios that I couldn't fit into just one story.
At first, I thought about posting them separately, but knowing myself, I might lose motivation halfway through trying to write everything. So I decided it would be better to post them all in one go instead โก
What happens when two people obsessed with control suddenly become obsessed with each other?
When two yanderes fall for each other, love stops being soft. It becomes a dangerous game of possession, paranoia, and devotion where both are willing to cross every line just to keep the other close.
Pairing: Male!Yandere!Char x Female!Yandere!Reader
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐S โ this story contains themes of obsession, stalking, manipulation, unhealthy attachment, invasion of privacy, morally gray characters, psychological tension, possessiveness, and dark romance dynamics. The relationship portrayed in this work is fictional and not meant to romanticize harmful behavior in real life. Reader discretion is advised.
A/n: Imagine a male character so consumed by his ambitions that nothing else in the world seems capable of distracting him. Now place that kind of person into a campus yandere AU. Someone who never planned on loving anyone suddenly becomes obsessed.
HIM
You were the kind of person everyone on campus seemed to know.
Not because you tried to stand out, but because people naturally gravitated toward you like sunlight through open windows.
Your smile lingered in people's minds long after conversations ended. You remembered names, noticed small changes, listened as if every word mattered. Even the quiet students who preferred corners over crowds somehow found themselves speaking to you without realizing it. Professors greeted you warmly in the hallways, classmates saved seats beside you without asking, and strangers softened the moment you looked their way.
You moved through the campus with an ease that made everything around you feel lighter, laughter spilling from cafeteria tables, familiar greetings echoing across corridors, hands waving from classroom doors.
It was effortless for you.
Not only were you adored, you were envied.
You were beautiful in the effortless kind of way people wrote poems about without meaning to. Smart enough to leave professors impressed, yet gentle enough to never make others feel small beside you. Your life was the kind that looked carefully crafted from the outside, a loving family, loyal friends, good grades, a future already glowing brightly ahead of you.
Everything about you seemed perfect.
The perfect daughter.
The perfect student.
The perfect girl.
People often said you lived like the main character of a dream.
And maybe you did.
Until you met him.
He ruined you without ever touching you.
Just seeing him was enough.
Enough to crack the polished version of yourself you had spent years maintaining so carefully. Around him, your perfect smiles became strained at the edges, your practiced composure slipping in ways no one else seemed to notice. He planted something ugly inside youโsomething obsessive, restless, hungryโand it spread quietly beneath your skin like a fracture hidden under glass.
For the first time in your life, you became imperfect.
And it terrified you.
So you buried it.
You buried every lingering glance, every racing heartbeat, every thought that kept returning to him no matter how hard you forced it away. You locked those feelings somewhere deep inside yourself, behind smiles and gentle laughter and the flawless image everyone adored so much.
No one could know.
No one could see the way your chest tightened whenever he walked past, or how your eyes searched for him in crowded hallways before you could stop yourself. You hid it so carefully that even you began pretending it wasn't there at all.
But hidden things rarely stay buried forever.
Soon, curiosity turned into habit.
You told yourself it was harmless at first โ just small things, normal things. Searching his name late at night. Finding his accounts. Memorizing usernames. Watching the little green activity icon beside his profile as if it meant something important.
But his social media was almost empty.
He has no posts, no captions, no tagged photos.
Nothing that revealed who he was beyond the cold profile picture and the date the account had been created.
It frustrated you more than it should have.
Everyone else on campus lived so openly online, their lives scattered carelessly across pictures and stories and late-night thoughts. But him? It was like trying to follow the shadow of someone who didn't want to exist.
And maybe that was what pulled you in deeper.
The absence of information became an obsession of its own. You started lingering outside classrooms just to see where he went afterward. You memorized the rhythm of his schedule without meaning to. Which vending machine he used. Which stairwell he preferred. The exact time he usually left campus.
You convinced yourself it was only observation.
Just curiosity.
But curiosity didn't usually make someone stay awake at two in the morning wondering why he hadnโt been online for seven hours.
You became desperate for pieces of him.
Small details weren't enough anymore. You wanted to know the things people couldn't learn from passing glances in hallways. What music he listened to alone, what kind of coffee he drank when he was tired, whether he stayed up late, whether he laughed differently when no one was around to hear it.
So you started asking.
It has to be carefully. It has to be casually. Always with that same sweet smile everyone trusted too easily.
You slipped his name into conversations like it meant nothing.
"Oh, you know him, right?" "He seems quiet." "What's he actually like?"
People answered without hesitation. Why wouldn't they? It was you asking.
And when simple questions stopped working, you learned how to guide conversations exactly where you wanted them to go. A little praise here, harmless curiosity there, subtle nudges disguised as concern. You made people talk without realizing they were giving things away.
His favorite convenience store near campus.
The classes he hated most.
The fact he never answered calls after midnight.
The old scar near his wrist someone noticed once during gym.
You collected every detail carefully, storing them away like treasures no one else understood the value of.
Sometimes, after hearing something new about him, you would lie awake replaying it over and over in your head, feeling your chest tighten with a satisfaction so intense it almost made you sick.
And still, it was never enough.
โโโโ*เญจเง*โโโโ
HER
He had always been good at control.
Control over his emotions, never making it slipped.
Control over his time, making sure its only for him.
Control over every decision that could possibly interfere with the future he had planned so carefully for himself.
Distractions were weaknesses, and weaknesses ruined people.
That was why he kept his distance from everyone. No unnecessary friendships, no meaningless attachments, no room for emotions that could cloud his judgment. His life moved with strict precision, cold and calculated, exactly the way he wanted it.
Then he saw you.
And suddenly, control meant nothing.
He tried to ignore it at first. Really, he really, really did. But no matter where he sat, his attention drifted toward you like something instinctive, something beyond his control. The sound of your laughter cut through crowded rooms too easily. Your voice stayed in his head long after conversations ended. Even the smallest things about you became impossible to overlook. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear while reading, the rhythm of your footsteps in the hallway, the soft crease between your brows whenever you concentrated.
It was maddening.
His eyes searched for you automatically now. Every classroom, every corridor, every passing crowd. Before he even realized it, he had already memorized your schedule more accurately than his own.
You were everywhere.
Sometimes he caught himself staring too long, watching the people around you with quiet irritation curling in his chest. He hated how easily others touched your attention. Hated the way they made you laugh like they deserved it.
They didn't.
None of them noticed you properly.
Only he did.
Only he paid attention to the things others ignored, the moments your smile looked tired around the edges, the way your expression dropped whenever you thought nobody was watching, the subtle shift in your mood depending on who stood beside you.
He noticed everything far more than he should have, far more than was normal.
But every time he told himself to stop, his obsession only sank deeper, rooting itself inside him until thoughts of you became impossible to separate from his daily life.
You had become his distraction.
His favorite one.
As much as he hated wasting time on things unrelated to his future, he found himself reshaping that future around you instead.
You became the exception to every rule he had ever made for himself.
His new goal.
His new motivation.
Whenever cruel rumors about you began spreading across campus, they disappeared before they could fully take shape. Posts vanished. Messages were deleted. The people who started them suddenly grew quiet, avoiding conversations whenever your name was mentioned.
And the people who upset you? The ones who made your smile falter even for a second?
He remembered every single one of them.
The senior who mocked you behind your back found his scholarship application mysteriously ruined days before submission. The girl who spread jealous lies about you became isolated after private screenshots leaked online. A boy who made you visibly uncomfortable during group work ended up transferring classes after relentless anonymous complaints.
He destroyed lives carefully.
Without ever allowing the blood to stain his own hands.
All for you.
The walking home is his most favourite part.
Every evening, he followed several steps behind you, hidden safely within crowds and dim streetlights. Close enough to keep you within sight, far enough that you never turned around suspiciously. He memorized the route so perfectly he could walk it blindfolded. The convenience store you occasionally stopped by, the stray cat that lingered near the corner bakery, the exact moment you adjusted your bag on your shoulder whenever you got tired.
To anyone else, it would have looked pathetic.
But to him, it felt almost romantic.
Like the two of you were walking home together in silence while the rest of the world remained unaware. Sometimes he matched the rhythm of your footsteps unconsciously, pretending, if only for a moment, that he belonged beside you.
You never noticed him there.
At least, that was what he told himself.
And yet, every now and then, you would slow down slightly during those walks, just enough to make him wonder if some part of you already knew.
โโโโ*เญจเง*โโโโ
You knew it was wrong.
Disgustingly wrong.
The kind of thing that would shatter the perfect image everyone had of you if they ever found out. The kind of thing that could ruin your reputation completely, leaving behind nothing but whispers and horrified stares.
But by now, your obsession had already grown far beyond guilt.
You wanted more of him.
You wanted access.
Real access.
And so, one night, sitting alone in your dark bedroom with trembling hands and your heartbeat pounding violently against your ribs, you crossed a line you could never uncross again.
You hacked his phone.
The moment the screen finally loaded, something inside you snapped with terrifying ease. Fear should have stopped you. Shame should have made you close everything immediately.
Instead, excitement flooded through you so intensely it almost made you dizzy.
Pieces of him unfolded before your eyes one by one, intimate in ways he had never willingly allowed anyone to see. You stared at everything greedily, devouring details like a starving person finally handed food.
He set alarms absurdly early.
He barely texted anyone first.
He listened to the same songs repeatedly late at night.
He had dozens of unread notifications because he rarely cared enough to answer.
You loved every single detail.
Your fingers hovered over the screen longer than they should have, lingering over private parts of his life that no one else was meant to witness. It felt invasive. Filthy. Intoxicating.
You should have felt like a criminal.
Instead, curled beneath your blankets in the dead of night with his entire digital life open in your hands, you felt closer to him than ever before.
โโโโ*เญจเง*โโโโ
He knew this had crossed the line a long time ago.
Normal people didn't break into restricted rooms after campus hours. Normal people didn't sit alone in front of glowing surveillance monitors with their heartbeat steady and calm while committing crimes that could easily destroy their future.
But the thought barely bothered him anymore.
Not when it involved you.
The dim light of the CCTV control room reflected against his face as rows of security footage flickered across the screens. Hallways, stairwells, classrooms, entrances. An entire campus reduced to silent moving images beneath his fingertips.
And somewhere inside all of it was you.
He had planned this carefully for weeks. Memorized guard rotations. Learned which staff members forgot to lock doors properly. Studied the outdated security system until bypassing it became almost embarrassingly easy.
All because he wanted to see you.
Beside him sat a second phone, the one dedicated entirely to you.
His real phone remained at his bag, desk or whatever. Too risky to carry both. This one existed for a single purpose only: storing recordings, screenshots, schedules, notes. Every trace of his obsession hidden neatly behind passwords only he knew.
You lived inside that device more than anyone else ever could.
His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard as lines of code and security prompts flashed across the monitor. One by one, he rerouted access, quietly linking camera feeds into his private system. The process should have made him nervous.
Instead, he felt almost impatient.
Then finally he had success, a small notification appeared on the screen.
Live access enabled.
His grip tightened slightly around the phone as the camera feeds loaded onto it one after another. Grainy footage flickered to life in tiny squares: empty corridors, classroom doors, students walking through campus under evening light.
And then he found you.
There you were, standing near the vending machines with your friend, smiling softly at something they said. Such an ordinary moment. Meaningless to everyone else.
Yet he stared at it like it was something sacred.
The corners of his mouth lifted faintly without him realizing. Now he could watch you anytime. Anywhere on campus.
No distance. No interruptions. No waiting desperately to catch glimpses of you between classes anymore. You were finally within reach whenever he wanted.
You were just a child when you met a boy and played house and marriage with him, treating it like nothing more than an innocent game in the playground. It wasn't until years later that you realized that what you had taken so lightly was, in a strange and unexpected way, considered valid.
Pairings: Yandere!Prince!Gojo x Reader
Genre: Royalty AU (Still in modern era) (Though its not really focused on the royal part)
Warning: Psychological thriller themes / Kidnapping / abduction / Obsessive behavior / Stalking / paranoia / Manipulation and control / Memory loss / suppressed memories / Emotional distress and panic attacks / Possessive relationship dynamics / Mystery and suspense / Mentions of drugged unconsciousness (But for me or if you r use to this kind of stuff, this is just mild)
Word Count: 3k
When you were young, you met a boy who seemed only a year or two older than you. Even now, you can still remember how unreal he looked, as if he didn't belong in the ordinary world. His snow-white hair glimmered beneath the sunlight, and his vivid blue eyes mirrored the endless sky, bright, clear, and almost impossible to look away from. Though he was still young, there was something untouchable about him, a quiet arrogance woven with natural authority, as if the world simply bent itself around him without question.
The next day, you waited for him at the playground just like you promised. Your small hands gripped the chains of the swing as you swayed back and forth, your shoes brushing lightly against the ground beneath you.
The afternoon breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass while your white dress fluttered softly around your knees.
The same dress he insisted you wear.
"It has to be white." he had said so confidently the day before, as if it were an obvious rule everyone in the world should already know.
You didn't really understand why.
All you knew was that the two of you had planned to play house together. You had happily suggested being husband and wife with children, thinking it was nothing more than another childish game. But he had looked at you with those striking blue eyes and calmly explained that husbands and wives had to get married first.
Apparently, married people signed contracts.
So you simply agreed.
Because when he spoke, it always sounded like he was right.
Now, sitting alone on the swing set, you kicked your feet impatiently while waiting for him to appear, wondering if he would really bring the 'contract' he talked about so seriously.
When he finally arrived, he was dressed far too formally for a child his age. A crisp white button-up sat neatly beneath a dark coat, making him look less like a kid coming to the playground and more like someone important attending a ceremony. In one hand, he carried a stack of papers folded carefully against his chest.
The moment he stood in front of you, he held them out with the same calm confidence he always had.
You took the papers from him, your eyes scanning the countless fancy words scattered across the page. The letters blended together into things you couldn't understand, long and complicated enough to make your head hurt after only a few seconds.
So you ignored them.
Instead, your attention drifted to the elegant signature written neatly at the very bottom. It curved beautifully across the page like something printed from a storybook.
You looked up at him curiously.
"What's that?" you asked, pointing at it.
"It's a signature," he explained simply. "When important people sign things, they don't just write their names normally."
You stared at it for another moment before looking down at the blank line beside his signature.
You didn't have anything pretty like that.
So, after thinking hard for a few seconds, you carefully grabbed the pencil with both hands and slowly wrote your full name exactly the way your parents taught you. Messy little letters filled the line unevenly, each stroke made with the concentration only a child could have.
When you finished, you proudly lifted the paper toward him, your childish handwriting sitting awkwardly beside his elegant signature.
You tugged lightly at his sleeve, your impatience finally spilling out into a small whine.
"Can we play house now?"
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on the paper in his hands, the corners of his lips slowly curling upward into a satisfied grin, the kind that looked oddly triumphant for a child, as though he had just completed something incredibly important.
Carefully, he folded the paper and tucked it away like it was something precious before finally turning his full attention back to you.
Then he nodded once.
The moment he did, your face lit up with excitement.
Without wasting another second, you dropped onto the grass and quickly pulled out your favorite doll from the small bag you carried around everywhere. You cradled it carefully in your arms before proudly holding it up toward him.
"This is our kid." you announced happily, already completely absorbed in the game.
Meanwhile, he simply stood there watching you with an unreadable expression, the afternoon sunlight catching against his pale hair and impossibly blue eyes while you babbled on about names, bedtime, and what your 'family' was supposed to do next.
โโโโ*เญจเง*โโโโ
Days passed, then weeks, and eventually, months. But he never came back.
At first, you waited for him every afternoon at the playground, sitting on the same swing with your doll tucked against your chest, hoping to catch a glimpse of white hair in the distance. You kept expecting him to appear with that calm, confident look and those strange papers he treated so seriously.
But the playground stayed empty.
No goodbye. No explanation.
As the years went on, his face slowly blurred within your memories. The vivid blue of his eyes became harder to recall, and the sound of his voice faded into something distant and unclear. Eventually, you couldn't even remember his name.
The only thing left was the strange feeling that, once upon a time, someone important had existed in your childhood.
And then life moved on.
Now, years later, you were a college student pursuing the dream you had worked tirelessly for. Your mornings were filled with rushed schedules, unfinished assignments, and half-drunk cups of coffee balanced beside stacks of notes. The childish memories of playground games and imaginary families had long since been buried beneath adulthood.
At least, that was what you thought.
You had just grabbed your bag and slipped your shoes on, preparing to leave for another ordinary day, when the sound of a car pulling up outside caught your attention.
Moments later, there was a knock at your door.
Standing on the other side was a woman dressed in immaculate formal attire. Her posture was straight, composed, and professional enough to make her seem completely out of place in front of your home.
The moment your eyes met, she gave a polite bow.
"Good morning," she said smoothly. "I apologize for appearing so suddenly."
Then, after a brief pause, she held out a familiar-looking document toward you.
"We are here regarding your marriage contract with the crown prince."
You ignored the woman in front of you, assuming she was just another scammer or someone trying to sell you something you didn't need.
"Look, I don't really have time for this," you said sharply. "Try someone else or whatever."
The words came out harsher than you intended.
You were justโฆ tired.
Lately, everything had been piling up at onceโstudies you couldn't afford to fall behind on, student loans hanging over your head like a constant weight, and the growing pressure of finding a side job just to keep yourself afloat. Rent, electricity, water, foodโฆ every basic necessity felt like another problem you were slowly losing control of.
And the worst part was knowing you weren't the only one trying. Every posting you checked had dozens of other students competing for the same few openings.
The woman didn't respond right away, but you were already halfway ready to walk away, convinced this was just another dead end in an already exhausting day.
Finally, you arrived at your university and settled into your seat, carefully laying out your notebooks and pens, making sure you had everything ready for the lecture ahead.
You began writing your notes when, for a brief moment, you caught sight of silver-white hair somewhere in your peripheral vision.
Your hand paused slightly.
You almost turned your head to look, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at your thoughts, but before you could, the professor entered the room, and the lecture officially began.
Still, something lingered.
Every now and then, your eyes would drift unconsciously, noticing that same snow-like hair again, even if only for a second. It wasn't just recognition. It felt deeper than that, like a memory you once had but couldn't quite reach anymore.
A quiet nostalgia settled in your chest, unexplainable and persistent, as if someone from a forgotten part of your past had brushed past your life once againโฆ and left without a name.
"Hey, that new guy is cute, isn't he?" one of your classmates whispered beside you, nudging your arm lightly.
You only shrugged in response, your eyes still on your notes as if you weren't interested.
But deep down, your gaze had already drifted toward him.
Of course he was the new transferee.
The moment you saw that familiar silver-white hair, something in you quietly confirmed it before anyone even said a word. The rumors had already spread through campus like wildfireโsome said he was royalty, others insisted he was just unbelievably wealthy. Either way, everyone agreed on one thing, that he didn't belong in an ordinary classroom.
He walked in like he owned the space without even trying. Calm, composed, and strangely distant from everything around him. Like the world was something he observed rather than participated in.
โโโโ*เญจเง*โโโโ
You walked down the quiet street with exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders, already planning out the rest of your night in your head.
Eat whatever was left in your apartment. Review your notes until your eyes hurt. Then sleep for as long as your responsibilities allowed.
A simple routine.
At least, that was the plan.
Until you caught sight of snow-white hair again from across the sidewalk.
Your steps slowed instinctively.
The silver-haired guy stood a short distance away beneath the dim glow of the streetlights, hands tucked casually into his pockets like he didnโt have a care in the world.
But your first thought wasn't why is he here?
Instead.
Why is he wearing sunglasses when it's practically nighttime?
You stared for a moment longer than you probably should have. The dark lenses hid his eyes completely, making him look even more out of place somehow. Most people would've looked ridiculous dressed like that after sunset.
But on him, it strangely suited him.
As if the sunglasses weren't a fashion choice at all, but something he simply refused to take off.
Then, almost like he felt your stare, his head turned slightly in your direction.
You immediately looked away the moment he turned his head, pretending you hadn't been staring at him in the first place. Tightening your grip on your bag, you continued walking down the street, trying to brush off the strange feeling crawling beneath your skin.
It was nothing.
Probably.
You glanced around casually as you walked. People were still minding their own business, students laughing together near the convenience store, workers hurrying home, cars passing beneath the dim evening lights.
And when you risked another quick glance toward where the snow-white-haired man had been standing earlierโฆ
He was gone.
Your brows furrowed slightly.
You should've felt relieved, yet for some reason, the uneasy feeling in your chest only grew heavier. The back of your neck prickled uncomfortably, like invisible eyes were fixed on you from somewhere just out of sight.
You looked behind you again.
Nothing.
Still, Why did it feel like you were being followed?
โโโโ*เญจเง*โโโโ
Ever since that night, it felt like snow-white hair followed you everywhere.
A glimpse near the train station. A figure across the street. Someone standing at the corner of your classroom building.
And every single time you looked properly he was gone.
At first, you convinced yourself it was just paranoia lingering from that strange encounter. Stress could do that to people, right? Between sleepless nights, financial problems, endless studying, and the constant pressure weighing on your shoulders, maybe your mind was simply playing tricks on you.
That explanation sounded reasonable enough.
Still, a small part of you started wondering if there was another reason.
Maybe you just kept noticing him because you found him attractive.
It wouldn't have been surprising. Half the university practically talked about the mysterious silver-haired transferee like he had walked straight out of a movie. Maybe your brain had simply latched onto his appearance so badly that you started imagining him everywhere you went.
But the more you thought about it, the less sense it made.
Because liking someone wasn't supposed to feel like this.
Every time you thought you saw him, your stomach tightened painfully. Your pulse quickened. Panic curled beneath your ribs so suddenly it made your breathing uneven. Instead of wanting him closer, every instinct inside you screamed to leave before he noticed you.
To escape.
No matter how many times you tried to rationalize it, one thing became painfully clear that this wasn't a crush.
And whatever this feeling was is terrifying.
But apparently, today had decided your suffering still wasn't enough.
The professor adjusted his glasses at the front of the classroom while announcing the next major requirement, a paired essay project worth nearly half your grade.
A collective groan immediately filled the room.
You barely paid attention at first, already mentally preparing yourself for another exhausting all-nighter, until the professor began reading out the assigned partners.
Then you heard your last name.
Followed by his last name.
Gojo
The entire classroom seemed to pause for a second before whispers instantly erupted around you.
"No wayโฆ"
"She got paired with the new guy?"
"Luckyโฆ"
Lucky? You?
Your grip on your pen tightened. Then you slowly lifted your head and there he was.
The silver-haired transferee sat only a few rows away, sunglasses still resting lazily on his face despite being indoors. One arm was propped against the desk while he looked completely unbothered by the attention surrounding him.
Then, as if sensing your stare yet again, he turned toward you.
Your heart immediately dropped.
That same strange panic clawed up your chest so suddenly that you almost looked away on instinct.
Why? Why does he make you feel like this?
And he didn't even seem surprised about being paired with you. If anything, the faint grin pulling at the corner of his lips made it seem like he had expected it all along.
The moment class ended, the room exploded into noise.
Chairs scraped against the floor, conversations overlapped one another, and yet somehow, you could still feel him before you even looked up.
You stayed seated longer than necessary, pretending to organize your notes while secretly hoping he would leave first.
You had no such luck.
Soon a shadow fell across your desk. "Partner."
That voice. It was Smooth, calm, familiar in the worst possible way.
You lifted your head to look at him up close, he looked even more unreal. Snow-white hair framed his face carelessly, soft beneath the afternoon light pouring through the classroom windows. The dark sunglasses still hid his eyes completely, reflecting your own startled expression back at you.
You swallowed hard.
"We can just divide the work," you said quickly, avoiding his gaze or at least where his gaze should have been behind those glasses. "You do your part, I'll do mine, and we won't have to meet up that much."
For a brief second, silence settled between you.
"Won't have to?" he repeated softly, almost amused. "You talk like you're avoiding me."
Your chest tightened instantly.
"I'm not." you replied a little too quickly. The words left your mouth sharp and defensive, but even you could hear how unconvincing they sounded. A terrible lie. And judging by the faint curve tugging at the corner of his lips, he knew it too.
"You've been avoiding me since the first day."
Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist uneasily. Not the first day at university. Not the first day you met as strangers. Justโฆ the first day.
Your fingers curled tightly around your pen as an unfamiliar sense of dread crept beneath your skin. "We literally just met." you said carefully, almost cautiously.
At that, he went quiet.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed softly.
The sound wasn't mocking or cruel. If anything, it carried a strange kind of fondness, quiet amusement wrapped around something deeper you couldn't quite understand.
"You really don't remember." he murmured, almost to himself.
The words sent an uncomfortable chill down your spine.
He simply looked at you in silence, those hidden blue eyes behind the dark lenses making it impossible to read what he was thinking. Yet somehow, it still felt like he was seeing far more than he should. Like he was looking at a version of you that existed somewhere beyond your own memories.
"We should work at my place." he said casually, like it was the most natural suggestion in the world.
Your response came immediately.
"No."
Not even a second of hesitation.
The corner of his lips lifted slightly, amused by how fast you rejected him. "You answered too fast."
"Because absolutely not." you shot back, clutching your notebook a little tighter against your chest.
A quiet laugh escaped him at your obvious distrust. "You think I'm suspicious."
You stared at him flatly. "Aren't you?"
Silence settled between the two of you before his smile widened. Not offended in the slightest, but entertained, like your suspicion was far more amusing to him than it should have been.
That finally earned a genuine laugh from him, low and warm enough to draw curious glances from the students around you. For the first time since you met him, he slowly reached up and removed his sunglasses.
Bright blue eyes met yours, clear, endless, and painfully familiar. Then it hit you all at once, a forgotten memory crashing into your mind, a child proudly holding out a paper contract saying, "Now we can play house properly."
Your breath caught. Across from you, the silver-haired man smiled like he had been waiting years for this exact moment.
"Found you." he said.
The moment those words left his mouth, you stood up so quickly your chair nearly scraped harshly against the floor.
You didn't even say anything.
You just turned around and walked away.
Calmly. Controlled. Its ok, its ok, don't be nervous, calm down.
At least, that was how you tried to appear. Your steps were stiff, forced into something normal despite the panic violently clawing inside your chest.
And the strangest part was that he didn't stop you. He didn't call your name or chase after you like you expected him to. He simply stayed where he was, watching you leave with that same unreadable expression, as though he already knew you would run and was letting you.
The second you stepped outside the campus gates, whatever composure you had shattered completely.
You ran.
You ran past crowded sidewalks and dim streets blurred by the thoughts occupying your mind. Your lungs burned painfully with every breath, yet your legs refused to stop moving.
Run. Run faster. Get away from here.
But no matter how far you went, that voice still echoed in your head.
"Found you."
Your heartbeat pounded violently in your ears until eventually your legs gave out beneath you, forcing you to slow down. Gasping for air, you finally looked around properly for the first time since fleeing.
And froze at the sight.
A playground.
Empty swings creaked softly in the evening breeze while fading sunlight painted the rusted metal in gold. No children. No laughter. No people at all. Just silence.
Your breathing slowly faltered.
Why were you here?
"Out of every place I've could've run toโฆ why did my feet bring me here?"
Something twisted painfully inside your chest as you stared at the playground, a strange familiarity settling over you like a forgotten dream.
You took a slow step back, unease crawling deeper beneath your skin. The empty playground suddenly felt far too quiet, the rusted swings creaking softly in the evening breeze like a warning you didn't understand.
Then theres suddenly a hand clamped over your mouth and nose from behind.
Your eyes widened in panic as a cloth pressed tightly against your face, the sharp unfamiliar scent instantly flooding your senses. Before you could properly struggle, strong arms pulled you backward and shoved you into a vehicle parked just beyond the playground.
The door slammed shut.
Your blurry vision darted around frantically until it landed on a familiar woman seated across from you, the same woman who had approached you before, rambling about marriage and things you thought were nonsense at the time.
Fear crashed through you violently.
You tried to move, tried to fight, but your body already felt unbearably heavy. The strange smell soaked into your lungs, dragging your consciousness downward no matter how desperately you tried to stay awake.
Your eyelids slowly began to fall shut.
And just before darkness completely swallowed you, you heard his voice.
"Tsk, seriously? I told you guys to be gentle with her." A soft chuckle followed, warm enough to send chills down your spine. "She's your future queen, you know. At least treat her a little more carefully."
The last thing you felt before slipping into unconsciousness was the faint brush of fingers against your forehead, almost affectionate.
"Theres a chance, dear butterflies, that I could write Satoru perspective when he was a child, bringing the documents to his parents and see the reactions." (For anyone want to be tag for part 2 just comment)
Summary: Satoru Gojo finds himself standing on the edge of a confession he can't take back. Caught between fear and longing, he risks more than he ever hasโnot in battle, but in letting someone stay close enough to leave. And yet, in the silence that follows, in the warmth that lingers, one truth remains, despite everything, you're still here.
Timeline: Teenage years
Series Masterlist: โง
The battle had ended, but its echoes still clung to your body, the ache in your limbs, the faint metallic scent of cursed energy lingering in the air, the quiet exhaustion that settled deeper than any wound. You had wanted nothing more than to go home, to collapse into something soft and familiar, to let the night pass without another thought. But of course, Satoru Gojo had other plans.
He had insisted that you stay a little longer.
Now the two of you stood atop a high building, the city stretching endlessly beneath your feet, glowing with scattered lights that pulsed like a second sky. Above, the real one shimmered in quiet contrast, stars scattered across the darkness in a way that felt both distant and strangely comforting. For a moment, it was hard to tell which view held more life.
The one above, or the one below?
You leaned against the edge, arms resting on the cool concrete, exhaling slowly as the tension began to loosen its grip on your chest. "I really was planning to go home," you murmured, your voice softer than you expected, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile calm around you. "You knowโฆ sleep. Normal things."
A quiet chuckle came from beside you. "Sleep is overrated," Gojo replied, his tone as effortless as ever, though there was a subtle lack of its usual sharpness. He stepped closer, resting his hands casually in his pockets as he tilted his head back to glance at the sky. "Moments like this are rarer than you think."
You glanced at him, brows knitting just slightly. "You say that like we don't fight curses every other day."
"Exactly," he said, turning his head toward you with a faint smile. "Which is why we don't usually get a view without something trying to kill us in it."
His words earned a quiet breath of laughter from you, though it didn't last long. Your gaze drifted back to the city below, watching as tiny figures moved through the streets, unaware of how close danger had been to them just hours ago. "They look peaceful," you said after a moment, almost to yourself. "But they're not, are they?"
Gojo followed your line of sight, his expression unreadable behind the dim light. "No," he answered simply. "Justโฆ different problems."
The wind brushed past, carrying a coolness that made you pull your arms closer to yourself. "Sometimes I wonder if they're luckier," you admitted quietly. "At least they don't have to see all of this."
There was a pause, long enough to feel it.
Then, more quietly than before, he said, "And sometimes I wonder if we are."
You turned to him fully at that, surprised by the honesty in his voice. It wasn't something he offered often, not without wrapping it in humor or arrogance. But now, standing under the open sky with nothing but the hum of the city below, there was something unguarded in the way he spoke.
"Staying up here like thisโฆ" he continued, eyes drifting back to the horizon, "being able to see everything clearly, even the ugly partsโฆ it's not all bad."
Your gaze softened as you studied him, noticing the way his shoulders had relaxed, the way his usual energy had quieted into something almost gentle. "You just didn't want to go back yet." you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.
He let out a soft huff of amusement. "Wow. And here I thought I was being deep."
"You were," you replied, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "Justโฆ in your own way."
For a moment, neither of you spoke again. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it felt earned, like something you could rest in without needing to fill it. The city lights flickered below, the stars steady above, and somewhere between the two, you stood together, caught in that quiet space where everything finally began to settle.
And despite yourself, you were glad you stayed.
Beside you, Satoru Gojo looked as composed as ever, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, posture relaxed, gaze drifting between the city lights and the stars above. To anyone else, he would seem untouchable, perfectly at ease in the quiet aftermath of chaos.
But inside, everything was anything but calm.
His thoughts refused to settle, spiraling in a way he wasn't used to, messy, loud, and far too human. It irritated him, honestly. He was Satoru Gojo. The strongest. The one who never hesitated, never second-guessed, never panicked.
And yet here he was.
Panicking.
Not about a curse. Not about a fight. Not even about death.
About you.
He shifted his weight slightly, the movement subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to betray the tension coiling beneath his calm exterior. His gaze flickered toward you for a brief second before darting away again, as if even looking too long might give something away.
This wasn't part of the plan.
He had one, of course he did. He'd thought about it more times than he cared to admit, running through different versions in his head like some kind of ridiculous rehearsal. In some, he was smooth, effortless, teasing, leaning just close enough to make your heart race before dropping the confession like it was nothing.
'Hey, you ever think about dating me?'
Casual. Light. Very him.
In others, he went a little softer, still joking, still safe, but just enough truth hidden underneath.
'You know, if I had to pick someoneโฆ it'd probably be you.'
He'd imagined your reaction to every version, laughter, confusion, maybe even that look you got when you were trying to read him too closely. In every scenario, he had an escape route, a way to pull back, to laugh it off, to pretend it didn't matter if things went wrong.
Because that was the safest option.
Because if you laughed he could survive that.
But this?
This quiet, unplanned moment on a rooftop, with the city glowing beneath you and the stars stretched endlessly above. It wasn't what he had prepared for. There was no setup, no carefully chosen timing, no clever lead-in line to cushion the fall.
Just silence.
Just you.
And the terrifying realization that he didn't want an escape route anymore.
His jaw tightened slightly as the thought settled in, heavier than anything he'd faced before. When had that changed? When had it stopped being a joke in his head and turned into something real, something that made his chest feel too tight, his thoughts too loud?
When had you become something he couldn't just brush off?
He exhaled slowly, almost inaudibly, tilting his head back as if the stars could somehow offer an answer. They didn't, of course. They never did. Still distant, still untouchable, just like everything else heโd convinced himself he didn't need.
But you weren't like that.
That was the problem.
You were right there, within reach, real in a way nothing else ever seemed to be. Satoru Gojo didn't know what to do with that.
His fingers curled slightly in his pockets, a quiet, restless motion as another failed version of the confession played out in his mind, too awkward, too serious, too not him. He could already hear himself ruining it, saying the wrong thing, watching your expression change in a way he wouldn't be able to take back.
Tchโฆ since when did this get so complicated?
He stole another glance at you, longer this time, his expression softening before he could stop it. You looked calm, lost in your own thoughts, unaware of the storm unfolding just inches away.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Because he wanted to be part of that calm.
Because he wantedโ
His thoughts cut off abruptly, like he'd gone too far even in his own head. He clicked his tongue under his breath, shifting his stance again as if he could physically shake the feeling off.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
This wasn't the 'perfect moment' he'd imagined.
And yetโฆ as his gaze lingered on you, something in his chest tightened with quiet certainty.
Maybe this was it anyway.
The thought lingered longer than he wanted it to, curling into something heavier the more he tried to ignore it. If he confessedโif he actually said the words instead of hiding them behind jokes and half-truthsโthen maybe things would finally settle into place, maybe you would choose to stay, not just for now but for something deeper, something certain, something that belonged to him in a way the rest of the world never did. It was a selfish thought, one he would have laughed off any other day, but tonight it refused to loosen its grip, pressing against the quiet spaces in his chest that he usually kept locked away.
And yet, just as quickly, doubt followed.
What if you didn't? What if you looked at him differently after? What if you leaveโฆ like a certain someone did?
The memory surfaced uninvited, sharp and unwelcome, a ghost of something he never quite let himself face directly, and for a fleeting moment the confidence that defined Satoru Gojo faltered beneath the weight of it. Loss was not unfamiliar to him, but thisโthis felt like something he wouldn't be able to brush off, something that would linger no matter how hard he tried to pretend it didn't matter.
He couldn't bear it.
Not again.
The words came out before he could stop them, softer than anything he had allowed himself to say all night. "Thank you for staying."
It felt strange, even to him, how quiet his voice sounded, stripped of its usual playfulness, carrying something far more fragile beneath it. You blinked, turning toward him with a small flicker of surprise in your expression, clearly not expecting sincerity to slip through so plainly.
"That'sโฆ new," you said gently, studying him with a curiosity that made it harder for him to look away. "Since when do you thank people for doing what you told them to do?"
A quiet breath of laughter left him, though it lacked its usual ease, as if it were more habit than genuine amusement. "Wow. And here I thought I was being sincere for once."
"You are," you replied, your gaze sharpening slightly as you took him in more carefully now, noticing the subtle shifts he couldn't quite hide. "That's why it's strange."
He didn't respond right away, and the silence that followed stretched just long enough to feel deliberate, his attention settling fully on you in a way that made everything else seem distant. For a moment, he simply lookedโreally lookedโas though committing every detail to memory, tracing something he was afraid might slip away if he didn't hold onto it tightly enough.
"Do you ever think about it?" he asked suddenly, the question breaking through the stillness with a quiet weight.
"About what?"
"This." he said, gesturing faintly toward the city below and the endless sky above, though his focus never truly left you. "How temporary it all is."
You tilted your head slightly, considering his words more seriously than he expected, your expression softening as you searched for an answer that felt honest. "Sometimes," you admitted, your voice thoughtful, grounded in a way that steadied the air between you. "But I think that's what makes it matter more."
Something in his gaze shifted at that, the tension in it easing just enough to reveal something more vulnerable beneath the surface. "Yeahโฆ" he murmured, the agreement quiet, almost reluctant, as if accepting that truth meant admitting something he wasn't fully ready to face. "Guess that makes sense."
The silence that followed settled differently this time, no longer just calm but filled with something unspoken, something waiting at the edge of being acknowledged. The wind moved softly around you, the city lights flickering below as if unaware of the moment unfolding above them, and for once, Satoru Gojo didn't rush to fill the space with humor or distraction.
Instead, he let it linger.
Then, more quietly than before, his voice lowering as if the words themselves carried weight he wasn't used to holding, he asked, "If one dayโฆ things changedโฆ would you leave?"
Your brows drew together slightly, confusion flickering across your face at the sudden turn in his tone, at the question that felt far more personal than anything he usually allowed. "Leave? What do you mean?"
He exhaled slowly, one hand lifting to run through his hair in a rare, unguarded gesture, the movement betraying a tension he could no longer hide behind ease or confidence. "I don't know," he admitted, though it was clear he did, even if he couldn't bring himself to say it outright. "Justโฆ if something made things complicated or difficult." His lips pressed together briefly before he added, quieter now, almost as if the words were being pulled from him, "Would you still stay?"
There was something in his voice that made you pause, something fragile that didn't belong to the version of him the world usually saw, and it caught you off guard in a way that made your chest tighten slightly. You searched his expression, noticing the way his composure seemed thinner now, like something carefully maintained was beginning to crack.
"I would," you answered honestly, the simplicity of it grounding the moment in something real. "Why wouldn't I?"
His shoulders eased at that, just slightly, though the tension didn't disappear entirely, lingering in the way his gaze held yours as if he needed more than just a single answer to believe it.
"Even if it's me?" he pressed, his voice quieter, almost uncertain in a way that didn't seem possible for him. "Even if I'm the reason things get complicated?"
You stepped closer without thinking, drawn by something in the way he said it, your voice softening as you met his gaze steadily. "Satoruโฆ you already are complicated."
A faint, breathy laugh escaped him, the sound fragile but real.
"But I'm still here," you continued, the certainty in your voice leaving no room for doubt, no space for him to twist it into something else. "Aren't I?"
That was the moment something in him shifted, subtle but undeniable, like a barrier finally giving way under pressure it had held for too long. His eyes searched yours, not with his usual confidence, but with something far more vulnerable, as if he needed to see the truth there for himself, needed to confirm that you meant every word, that you weren't going to disappear the moment he reached for something more.
"I had this whole plan," he admitted, a quiet, self-aware smile tugging faintly at his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You knowโฆ something smooth. Something that sounds like me."
"Oh?" you replied softly, a hint of teasing slipping into your tone despite the weight of the moment. "Now I'm curious."
"Yeah, wellโฆ" he exhaled, shaking his head lightly, the gesture carrying a quiet resignation. "It's not going to happen like that. I'd probably ruin it anyway."
You raised a brow slightly, a small smile forming despite yourself. "That doesn't sound like the strongest sorcerer talking."
"It's not," he said, meeting your eyes fully now, without distance, without pretense, without the title that usually stood between him and everything else. "It's justโฆ Satoru."
The way he said itโsimple, unguardedโmade something in your chest tighten, the moment settling deeper than anything that had come before it.
"I wasn't planning to say it like this," he continued, his voice steadying even as the vulnerability remained, threading through every word. "And I definitely wasn't planning to feel like this."
The pause that followed wasn't long, but it carried everything he hadn't said yet, everything he had tried to bury beneath jokes and carefully constructed distance.
Then, quietly, with nothing left to hide behindโ"But I like you."
No teasing colored his voice this time, no smile softened the weight of it, just the simple, undeniable truth laid bare between you.
The world seemed to still in response, the distant noise of the city fading into something indistinct as his words settled into the space between you, filling it with something that felt both overwhelming and impossibly fragile."
And I don't want you to be just someone who stands beside me for a while," he added, softer now, the honesty in his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I want you to stay. With me."
Your heart pounded against your ribs, the confession wrapping around you in a way that felt both grounding and disorienting, as if the moment itself had shifted into something entirely new.
"You really thought I'd leave?" you asked quietly, your voice gentler now, touched with something that made his chest tighten.
"I didn't want to find out," he admitted, the words barely above a whisper, carrying a weight that lingered long after they were spoken. "Not if the answer was yes."
For a moment after his words faded into the night, neither of you moved, as if even the smallest shift might break whatever fragile, unspoken thread had formed between you. The city continued on below, distant and unaware, its lights flickering like nothing had changed, and yet everything between you felt different now, quieter, closer, heavier in a way that made your chest rise and fall just a little too fast.
Satoru Gojo didn't look away.
That alone was enough to tell you how serious this was.
There was no playful grin, no teasing remark waiting at the edge of his lips, no easy escape hidden behind confidence. Just him standing there, exposed in a way that didn't match the untouchable image he carried so effortlessly everywhere else. His gaze searched yours carefully, almost cautiously, as if bracing for something he couldnโt predict, something he couldn't control.
And yet, despite all that, he didn't step back.
You could feel the hesitation, the restraint, the way he was holding himself just enough to give you space to decide what came next. It was unfamiliar, seeing him like this, so deliberately still, like the strongest sorcerer in the world had willingly placed the outcome in your hands.
Your fingers curled slightly at your side before you finally took a step closer, closing the small distance that had remained between you. The movement was quiet, but it shifted everything, the air tightening in response, the space between you now filled with something undeniable.
His breath caught, just barely, but enough.
"Satoru," you murmured, his name softer now, no teasing, no distance, just something warm and certain.
That was all it took.
His composure cracked in the smallest, most human way, his hand lifting almost instinctively before pausing midair, as if he was still giving himself a chance to pull back. For once, he didn't move first without thinking. For once, he waited.
When your hand found his sleeve, gently, grounding him in something real, the last of that hesitation faded.
He stepped closer.
The distance between you disappeared so naturally it almost didn't feel like a decision, his presence surrounding you in a way that was both overwhelming and careful at the same time. One hand finally settled at your waist, hesitant for only a second before holding a little firmer, like he needed the reassurance that you were still there, that you hadn't slipped away in the middle of everything.
His other hand rose slowly, fingers brushing against your cheek, the touch surprisingly gentle, almost reverent, like he wasn't entirely sure he was allowed to be this close, to hold you like this without everything falling apart.
His thumb traced lightly against your skin, and for a brief moment, he just looked at you again, closer now, his gaze softer than you had ever seen it.
"Still here." he murmured under his breath, as if confirming it to himself.
You didn't answer with words.
Instead, you leaned in.
The kiss wasn't rushed, nor desperate, nor perfectly practiced like the versions he had probably imagined a hundred times before. It was hesitant at first, soft and careful, the kind that carried more meaning in its quietness than anything forceful ever could. It felt real in a way that made everything else fade, the world narrowing down to just the warmth between you, the steady rhythm of breath shared in the small space you now occupied together.
For someone who always seemed so certain, so untouchable, Satoru Gojo kissed you like he was afraid of getting it wrong, like he was learning something new with every second that passed.
And yet, as the moment deepened, that hesitation slowly gave way to something more certain, more grounded, the tension in his shoulders easing as he realized you weren't pulling away, that you were right there with him, choosing this just as much as he was.
His hold tightened slightly, not enough to overwhelm, just enough to keep you close, as if he finally allowed himself to believe that you weren't going anywhere.
When he pulled back, it wasn't by much, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath still uneven in a way that would have been unthinkable for him any other time.
For once, he didn't have a clever remark ready.
No joke to hide behind.
Just a quiet exhale, and a small, almost disbelieving laugh that slipped out before he could stop it.
"โฆSo that's what that feels like." he murmured, his voice softer now, lighter but still carrying something real beneath it.
Summary: Once he knows you're pregnant, Gojo refuses to let you lift a single thing, constantly fussing over you.
Pairing: HusbandSatoru! x PregnantWifeReader!
Series Masterlist โซ
Apparently, ever since you told your beloved husband that you were pregnant, his protectiveness shot up to one hundred percent. It was almost unbelievable how quickly he changed. The moment the words left your mouth, his entire attitude shifted, as if a switch had been flipped inside him. Now he hovered around you constantly, watching your every move with careful eyes, always ready to catch you or stop you from doing something he thought might be even the slightest bit risky.
You seriously didn't understand it.
You didn't even have a bump yet. There was barely any visible change at all, yet he was already acting like you were made out of the most fragile glass in the world. Every little thing suddenly became a concern to him. If you tried to carry somethingโeven something lightโhe would immediately take it from your hands. If you stood up too quickly, his arm would already be around your waist, steadying you like you might faint at any second.
Walking down the stairs had suddenly become a whole situation on its own, because he insisted on holding your hand every single time, as if letting go for even a second might somehow put you in danger.
Reaching for something on a high shelf was completely out of the question now, before you could even stretch your arm up, he was already there beside you, grabbing it himself and giving you a look that clearly said donโt even try.
Even something as simple as sitting for too long made him worry. After a while he would gently remind you to stretch, adjust the pillows behind your back, or ask in a soft voice if you were comfortable, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for the smallest sign that you might not be feeling well.
It was sweet, in a way. You could clearly see how much he cared, how the mere thought of you and the tiny life growing inside you made his heart overflow with protectiveness. Every little thing he didโwhether it was pulling a chair out for you, watching you carefully when you stood up, or making sure you never had to lift a fingerโshowed just how serious he was about keeping you safe. But at the same time, it was also a little ridiculous.
Sometimes you couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief, wondering how he had gone from your normal husband to someone who acted like the smallest movement might cause the entire world to fall apart.
"Seriously?" you sighed one day, watching in mild disbelief as he hurried across the room the moment you stood up from the couch. You hadn't even taken a single step yet, but he was already beside you, his hands hovering near your arms as if he expected you to suddenly lose your balance.
You blinked at him, half amused and half exasperated by how dramatic he was being. "I'm just standing up," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at the worried look on his face. Then, letting out another small sigh, you shook your head slightly.
"Toru, I'm pregnant," you said, giving him a pointed look. "Not made of glass."
He blinked at you for a moment, clearly unashamed of being caught hovering again. Then he let out a small huff, crossing his arms as if defending himself.
"Well excuse me for caring about my wife and my baby." he said, though the soft smile on his face completely ruined any attempt at sounding serious. He gently placed a hand on your stomach, his expression instantly softening.
"And for the record." he added with a small shrug, "you might not be made of glassโฆ but you are carrying the most important thing in my world. So yeah, I'm going to act a little dramatic about it."
A little?
You folded your arms, staring at him with a stubborn expression after his dramatic explanation. "Okay," you said slowly, clearly unconvinced. "Watch this."
Before he could even ask what you meant, you bent down and picked up the pillow that had fallen onto the floor beside the couch. You straightened up again with ease, holding it up like you had just proven the most obvious point in the world. "See?" you said, brushing it off casually before tossing it back onto the couch. "Completely fine."
For a moment, he just stared at you. His eyes widened slightly, his expression somewhere between shock and disbelief, as if you had just attempted something extremely reckless instead of picking up a pillow.
"Oh myโnope. Nope. Absolutely not." he said quickly, already stepping closer to you like he needed to prevent further 'dangerous' actions.
You blinked at him. "What?"
"That's illegal now." he declared seriously.
Your eyebrows shot up. "Illegal?"
"Yes," he said with complete confidence, gently taking your hand and guiding you back toward the couch like you needed supervision. "Pregnancy law. New rule. I pick things up from now on."
You let out an incredulous laugh, shaking your head as you sat down again. "You literally just made that up."
"Doesn't matter," he replied immediately. "I'm enforcing it."
Before you could argue again, his expression suddenly softened. The playful seriousness melted away as he knelt slightly in front of you, his hands gently resting on your stomach. The gesture caught you off guard, making you pause mid-complaint.
You looked down at him. "What are you doing?"
He leaned a little closer, speaking softly as if someone else in the room needed to hear him.
"Listen, tiny sorcerer," he said, his voice calm but full of affection. "Your mom likes to pretend she's invincible."
You gasped lightly. "Hey!"
But he continued as if you hadn't interrupted him at all. "So until you're big enough to defend yourself," he went on, his thumb gently brushing over your stomach, "your dad is in charge of making sure she behaves."
You tried to stay annoyed, but the warmth in his voice made it impossible. A quiet laugh escaped you instead, and you shook your head, realizing that arguing with him about this was probably a battle you weren't going to win anytime soon.
The wrong thing is not the fact that you write a story with an oc, no, that's not the real problem, really.
IT'S JUST THE FACT THAT YOU USE THE WRONG TAG SO YOU HOPE MORE PEOPLE READ YOUR STORY. BUT BELIEVE ME IT'S JUST FUCKING ANNOYING 'CAUSE WE AREN'T ABLE TO FIND THE RIGHT FICS IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS!!!
There are people who like to read more stories with ocs than reader inserts, so use the fucking right tag go reach that community and stop spamming your stories among ours.
I don't think you get it but, you know, the purpose of fanfics with reader insert is to make the reader imagine her/himself as the mc of the story. The best part of these fics is the fact that EVERYONE can be included in them.
SO WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN THEM BY MAKING THE MC A PERSON THAT LOOKS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE READER AND EVEN HAS A NAME THAT IS NOT THEIRS?
Not to be dramatic but i hate y'all.
And the fact that it's always the same fandoms and we all know who we're talking about...
Summary: Jungkook doesnt know when it started but lately he wants be with you constantly, he cant even seem to think straight. When did it even started? Or was it always there and he just never noticed?
Pairing: IdolBestfriend!JJK x Fem!Reader
Genre: Friends to lovers?
Warning: None
I LIKE ME BETTER
"I love money," you said with a dramatic sigh, leaning back in your seat like you'd just survived a war, "but I hate working."
Jungkook let out a quiet laugh, the kind that was more oreath than sound. It had been a week. An exhausting messy week filled with packed schedules. endless responsibilities, and the kind of stress that clung tc your skin even after a shower. But finally, somehow you two had made it.
Together.
You were in the middle of venting again, voice animated as your hands moved like they always dic when you were deep in a story.
"And then my client justโ" Jungkook wasn't listening. His thoughts were drifting somewhere else, somewhere he always tries to ignore but cant this days
His thoughts were always going to back to you, no matter how much he tries to filled it with anything else other than you it doesnt seem to work
The way vou looked today, like the exhaustion of the week hadn't touched you at all. To the way your eyes neld him so easily, the way he could get lost in them if he let himself. He had, more times than he wants to admit.
You complained about vourself sometimes. You pointed out features you wished were different, things you called flaws without hesitation
Jungkook had never understood it
Because to him, you were beautiful in a way that didn't need permission. Beautiful in a way that felt natural ike breathing, like light slipping through a window
You ramble about something about a colleague documents. clients etc,
You were still talking, words flowing without pause your frustration spilling out in a way that made Jungkook want to laugh and hold you at the same time.
'And I swear, it's like they don't even read the emails Like, why am I evenโ"
Jungkook nodded at the right moments. Hummed softly when it seemed appropriate. His eyes stayed on your face, but not in the way most people looked.
Not like he was waiting for you to finish.
Like he was memorizing you.
And then he noticed it.
Something so small, so insignificant, he doubted anyone else would have caught it.
"And then he literally said, 'Well maybe you should've clarified,' as if I didn't send three follow-upsโ"
You pressed your tongue briefly against the inside of your cheek before continuing, like you were holding back a sharper comment. It lasted less than a second. A habit so quiet even vou didn't seem to notice it
But Jungkook did.
He noticed it because you always did it when you were trying to stay polite.
'And I'm just sitting there thinking, do you want me to do my job or do you want me to read your mind?"
He listened the whole time, laughing at the right parts shaking his head like he couldn't believe people coulc be that ridiculous. He asked questions too, the smal ones. the kind that proved he was really followinc along, not just pretending. Every now and then he'c nterrupt ust to clarify something, or to make a comment that made you roll your eyes and laugh, and it felt easy. Like the stress of the week didn't matter as much anymore, because you were finally here, and he was finally with you.
I LIKE ME BETTER WHEN...
"And Jungkook is the winner!
The staff's voice rang out across the set, and Jungkook reacted like he always did, pure instinct, pure joy. He jumped up with both arms raised. bouncing on his feet as if the ground itself couldn't old his excitement. Beside him, Jimin let out ar exaggerated, angry huff that made the others laugh
Jungkook barely heard them
He had won, yes!โbut the first thought that rushed through him wasn't the trophy, or the cheers, or even the cameras.
It was you
His heart was still racing, but not from the game. From the sudden overwhelming need to tell you. To hear your laugh through the phone. To imagine the way you'd roll your eyes and pretend you weren't impressed, only to smile anyway.
His heart was still racing, but not from the game. From the sudden, overwhelming need to tell you. To hear your laugh through the phone. To imagine the way you'd roll your eyes and pretend you weren't Impressed, only to smile anyway
He wondered what you were doing right now
If you were busy If you were tired. If you were thinking of him too.
His fingers almost reached for his phone before remembered where he was. Before he remembered the bright lights above, the crew, the members. and the camera still trained on him that is still capturing every expression, every reaction.
"I can't wait to tellโ" he started, the words slipping out too naturally
Then he froze.
His gaze flickered to the others, then to the lens.
And in that half-second, he caught himself
A soft smile spread across his face, the kind that always made the staff coo and the fans melt. The one people compared to a bunny without even trying
He lifted his voice, casual and bright
"I can't wait to tell my parents!"
The members laughed. The moment passed.
But Jungkook's chest tightened anyway, because le knew how close he'd been. How easily your name almost left his mouth, right there in front of everyone
And for the rest of the shoot. even while he smiled and played along, one thought stayed tucked beneath evervthing else, something quiet, steady, and impossible to ignore.
He couldn't wait to tell you.
I LIKE ME BETTER WHEN IM WITH YOU!!
Soon, he began to notice it
Not all at once, nothing about it was dramatic. It was quieter than that. It slipped into the spaces between his days until it became impossible to ignore.
No matter what he was doing, you were there
In the pauses between conversations. In the moments before the cameras started rolling. In the dull, tired silence after a long practice when his body ached and his mind should have been empty
And at night, when he finally crawled into bed, it was never sleep he reached for first.
It was you
He would stare at his phone with the screen dimmed thumb hovering, already knowing he wanted to call Already wanting to hear your voice, even if it was just a few minutes, even if you were half-asleep, even if all you did was complain about your day and laugh at his.
Somehow, it made everything feel lighter
He became the kind of person who checked his notifications too often. The kind of person who felt a small, irrational disappointment when it was only a message from the group chat-another reminder about practice, another joke, another schedule update
Because it wasn't you
And the strangest part was how obvious it became in the smallest places.
He was calmer with you. More careless in the besi way. Less guarded, less tense, less like he had to be anything other than himself. Around you, he didn't feel like Jungkook of BTS
He just felt like Jungkook.
Even practice changed.
He used to push through it because that was what ne did. Because he was disciplined, because he loved what he did. because there was always something ta improve.
But lately, he found himself glancing at the clock more than usual.
Not because he wanted to leave.
Because he wanted to get to vou
He wanted the moment the studio doors opened and he could finally head to your office, where you'd look up from your work with that familiar expression of tiredness, surprised, and suddenly softer the second you saw him.
And one day, somewhere between the constani thoughts and the restless nights, between the checking and the waiting and the quiet ache of missing you even when he was busyโJungkook realize.
He realised.
And he accepted it
He accepted it with all of his heart
That it wasn't iust a habit. it wasn't iust for comfort it was something else that is probably in there for a long time and he was just careless and ignoring it or something there that he couldn't name and was confused.
But he knew
He had for a while.
He iust hadn't let himself sav it
Jungkook was on his way to your office building, the city buzzing around him like it alwavs did. His phone rested in his pocket, but his attention driftec elsewhere, caught by the faint sound of music spillinc from a nearby cafรฉ.
"I like me better..."
The opening chords of Lauv's song made him pause mid-step. He let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh, the kind that comes from being caught thinking about something-or someone-you shouldn't
A smile tugged at his lips.
Maybe it wasn't ust the song. Mavbe it was the truth he'd been ianoring for weeks. The way he felt lighter, softer, happier. The way everything seemed to fall into places when he was with you, no matter how much the world got busier day by day.
Maybe... he really did like himself better when he was with you.
And just like that, he found himself walking faster anticipation pulling him forward, because the thought of seeing you, of finally being with you again, was already making the city feel brighter.
๐๐ต๐ธ My Daughter Was Born Under Bombs โ I'm Just Trying to Keep Her Alive
My name is Abdulmajid.
I got married one month before the war.
Those were beautiful days โ full of hope, love, and simple dreams.
I dreamed of a small home, a quiet family, and a baby girl I could hold without fear.
But the war cameโฆ
Suddenly. Brutally.
My mother was killed.
My brother was killed.
Children in my family were taken by the bombs.
My home was destroyed.
And my work stopped completely.
Thenโฆ in the middle of this nightmare, my baby girl was born.
A tiny soul, innocent, unaware of the war.
She cries from hunger, from cold, from the sounds of bombs shaking whatโs left of our walls.
Today, Iโm a father with almost nothingโฆ
Fighting every day to find flour, milk, or even a small meal to feed my child.
Prices are sky-high โ a single 25kg bag of flour can cost $800.
There is no work. No income. No safety. No stability.
I write this from under siege, hoping my heart will reach yours.
My name is Abedmajed Elderawi, and I live in Gaza with what remains of my once large and loving family.
Even $1 can make a difference.
It can feed a child, buy milk, or bring a moment of peace.
Be the heart that reaches Gaza. Be the hand that saves.
๐ Please share this post. Let our voices be heard โ not buried under rubble.
Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #537 )โ ๏ธ
