𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝖎 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 | 𝖆 𝖏𝖏𝖐 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙
pairing: choso x gn! reader
warnings: reader wears a dress and is described as pretty, mentions of alcohol and drinking, umm
genre: fluff
word count: 3.6k
note: finally got around to watching jjk so here's this cutie! i literally love him sm i want to rip my hair out. also can someone take seven minutes in heaven away from me PLEASE
Celebrating New Year's at Gojo’s. What could go wrong?
It was, in Gojo’s words, supposed to be a chill hangout, just a few friends and plenty of booze. But the frat boy in him never died, even long after graduation, so naturally, he invited everyone he’s ever known.
“Of course,” you muttered, shoving your way through Gojo’s friends, young and old, mostly people you’ve never seen. You always arrived fashionably late, never one to come to a party before everyone’s wasted.
When you finally made your way inside, the smell of alcohol hit you like a truck, giving you a splitting headache almost immediately. After snagging a solo cup from the kitchen counter, you finally spotted some familiar faces.
“Hey, guys,” you said, walking over to the couch that sat off to the side of his living room. It was a rare occasion for you to be here without flashing lights and bass-boosted music, but in the daytime, this place seemed so much smaller. Too small for all these people.
Geto sat off to one side, with Gojo beside him on the arm of the couch, dramatically telling a story. It was hard for you to ignore the way Geto would gently place his hand on Gojo’s cup, preventing it from dumping onto his lap as he would gesture emphatically. It was as if this sort of thing had happened so many times he learned to predict his moves, wordlessly keeping Gojo in check like a married couple. That sort of thing went unnoticed by your other friends, so you never spoke of it.
On the other side of the couch sat Choso, spread out over the middle of the couch, effectively taking up the rest of it. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. You hadn’t seen him since college, and Gojo knew that.
Spending much of your college career at parties much like these also meant that everyone knew of your unrequited feelings for him. It was the kind of thing only whimpered between cacophonies of vomit to your friends as they held your hair back, only murmured to those you were closest to as a drunken confession. Everyone also knew you were too afraid to confess to him. Your feelings caught in your throat every time you spoke to him, something like a poorly mixed drink threatening to bubble up to the surface.
But they never did, and you swallowed them whole.
It had been a year since you saw him last. So long since your last late night soiree had led the both of you to find your way to each other on the dance floor, or whisper stupid things to him in the secluded corners of a house party. You were so close, inseparable even. No one ever saw one of you without the other. It was the one constant thing in your life, the one part that remained by your side.
But after you both walked that stage, he moved to be closer to the family he left behind. You knew he missed them so much.
Graduation meant your friendship came to a close.
And tonight, on New Year's Eve, he sat on the couch with your friends. Just like he always used to.
You glanced at Gojo in a silent prayer to please let you leave. You didn't want to face everything you left behind all that time ago. Not here, not now.
You wished you were enough to make him stay. It was stupid of you. You didn’t want him to choose anything over his family, and especially you. Even so, that little voice in the back of your mind begged him to never leave you. To stay your constant. To be something more than that, like you always hoped he would.
Gojo caught your gaze. “Oh, yes, I invited Choso! I figured since I invited everyone else, he might as well come too, and imagine my surprise when he actually showed up,” he said with a laugh.
The grin on his face seemed to beg your fist to connect with it.
Choso didn't look at you, his eyes permanently transfixed on his cup. “Hey,” you mumbled.
That made him look at you. In your haze of emotion, you missed the way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, trailing over you like you were shining gold and silver, glittering in the spinning lights of the room. “Hey, yourself. It's uh- been a while, huh?”
“Yeah, it has been,” you laughed. Never enough in your cup, you downed it during your catchup, trying to ease any awkwardness that may have developed.
All you could think to yourself, however, was how much cuter he got. He had become someone totally different, and yet, as you talked to him, it was like nothing had changed. Like you were still two juniors shit-talking the crazy freshmen. Like there was still that spark between you that it seemed only you had felt. God, you missed him so much.
His quiet voice was so out of place amidst the loud music, so jarring that it drew you in deeper. One of the many things you loved about him. The way he always seemed so relaxed, so serene.
You left to get another drink and prayed no one would follow. What the hell were you doing? Pretending that he would feel the same way as you, even though it had been so long? You never once reached out, and neither did he. Did you really think things could be like that again?
When you returned, many of the party-goers had formed a circle on the floor, clearing out part of the dance floor to place an empty bottle in the center.
Whatever was in your cup wasn’t strong enough for what came next.
“Hey, there you are! I was beginning to think you had wandered off,” Gojo said from his place in the circle. “What do you say to ‘seven minutes in heaven’?”
You groaned. “How old are we, Satoru? Yeah, hard pass.”
It was hard to ignore that Choso had been dragged into the circle, seated cross-legged beside Gojo. He stared meaningfully into his cup again, almost as if the answers to the questions in his head would be answered from the liquor inside it.
He thought it would be easier to pretend he didn’t miss you. Easier to hide the fact that he swore off talking to anyone else in fear that they could never begin to compare to you.
It was almost sad. He couldn't imagine the way you felt about him, had no idea that the depraved thoughts he pushed so deep down were the same ones you stared at your ceiling every night to try to avoid. And there would be no end to his perversion, it seemed, constantly creeping its way into his mind as he imagined what you looked like underneath the dress you wore tonight. He felt vile. It made him sick to look at you, to see how pretty you stayed, and how much prettier you had gotten, and the way his wandering mind showed him images of everything he's ever dreamed of.
Why did he do this to himself?
He wanted you so badly it consumed him. He always has. It was so hard to admit to himself, and even harder to think about admitting to anyone else. To imagine your touch was overwhelming, to look into your eyes made him yearn for something he could never have. Every shred of his soul ached for you, and he had no idea how to tell you.
He knew you'd be here tonight. Knew that he probably wouldn't have come if you wouldn't have. And that made him want to tear himself to pieces. It was almost certain that in his absence you had found someone else, even though he selfishly prayed you never would. Prayed that you would feel the same things he did.
In reality, of course, you tried to focus on your future, and that nagging thought in the back of your mind that he would come back. That you'd get to say all those things you wished you had the strength to so long ago.
He had no idea.
“C’mon, everyone's playing!” Gojo whined.
The ‘everyone’ in question was lost on you. You could only imagine what would happen if you got locked in Gojo’s closet with Choso. Imagining everything you'd say. Everything you might do. Or would you be too scared to, just like before?
Liquor burned through the pit in your stomach, and despite yourself, you sat down. You prayed your cruel God would have mercy on you.
“Fine. But only until my drink is gone, and then I'm done playing.” It was a bold-faced lie, and you were sure everyone could tell. Games like this were a guilty pleasure of yours, and you would do almost anything to get your way.
“Who wants to go first?”
Geto nudges Choso. “I think he wants to play, Gojo.”
Choso’s up first? How much more could go wrong?
Much more, you found out. The bottle skidded on the carpet before landing on you. “Fuck,” you muttered. But this was what you wanted, wasn't it? Of course it was, but you hadn't expected to get it so soon.
Before you could say anything else, you found yourself yanked by the wrist into Gojo’s bedroom closet with Choso, the door cruelly barricaded behind you. It was pitch black, save for the moonlight that filtered through the cracks in the doorframe, and it took too long for your eyes to adjust.
What in the hell was happening?
You blinked to yourself before losing yourself to the silence of the room, party music softly thumping outside. His breathing matched with yours, the steady rhythm a reminder of everything you lost.
It felt like you were whole again, being here with him. Like the year it had been was erased and things were back to the way they were, the way they were supposed to be.
“I’ve missed you, Choso.” Blurted words rang loud through the small closet.
The sound of his name on your lips was something he forgot how much he loved.
“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about you,” he admitted.
“I’m so sorry. I never even tried-”
He stopped you. “I don’t care. I’m not exactly good at this whole… friends thing. I don’t really know what I’m doing a lot of times. So… I think I’m mostly to blame.”
“I don’t blame you for anything. And you shouldn’t either.”
He didn’t know what to say. So he did the first thing that he could think of. He crawled his way to you and he wrapped his arms around you, hands gently placed on your upper back as his large frame encompassed yours.
You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you repeated, fingers grasping at the back of the band shirt he wore.
His voice was soft against your hair, a whisper to calm the torrent of your mind. “Me too.”
It felt like an eternity before he pulled away, pale face inches from yours. The moonlight cast shadows on him that made him look so unreal, so beautiful. Red eyeshadow drew attention to deep purple eye bags. Stray strands of chocolate brown hair traced patterns in ink across his smooth skin. His chest heaved as your fingers traced lines on his back, nails softly digging into the skin when it suited you.
He became aware of his hands on you, the way your soft skin felt underneath his fingertips. He was a mess, and he prayed you wouldn't notice.
“So… what exactly are we supposed to do in here?” he breathed.
You whispered back. “You’ve never played?”
“...No.”
A laugh escaped you despite yourself as he returned to the other wall of the closet. “People usually expect kissing. Or something else…” The tension was palpable at your words. “But I usually settle for a deep, dark secret,” you added ominously, earning a soft laugh from him.
How was it possible for you to be so much like you used to be? Choso couldn't understand it. He was sweating through his clothes and you seemed totally composed. It seemed like you were always leading him through every situation, like you had lifetimes more knowledge than he did, and that made him nervous.
“A secret?”
You nodded, even though he couldn't see you.
“What kind of secret?”
“Anything. Something you've never told anyone.”
He swallowed hard. Even with the minimal light, you could see him run a shaky hand through his hair, styled in iconic pigtails as always. “Something I've never told anyone?”
“Or not, it’s-”
“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Never?”
Shame flooded through him, running him cold as he pulled further away from you, covering his face with his hands even though he struggled to see you. “Don’t laugh…” he mumbled. It was stupid of him to feel so humiliated, knowing you wouldn’t think of it that way.
“Sorry!” you said between giggles. “It’s just- you’re so… I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true. I didn’t even know it was something that people did until a few years ago.” He felt so exposed in front of you, even the tamest of his inner thoughts being laid bare scared him beyond comprehension. Something in the back of his mind told him you could see through him, see that he wanted you to be the one to change it. And yet, you feigned innocence. Even if you knew his deepest desires, you never once showed it. He hoped you couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks.
It took a while for your laughter to cease. “But you’ve, I mean… you’ve kissed someone before, right?”
“Will you please tell me your secret now?” he frowned.
“...Does it matter?”
“Oh, come on! I swear I won’t tell!” you pleaded. It made your chest hurt to think of all of the possible answers to your question. Was it immoral to hope he said no? Was it bad to think you could be the first?
You tapped thoughtfully on your chin with a sigh. “Let me think of one…”
“Don’t tell me you’re an open book,” he joked.
“Trust me,” you said with a playful eye roll. “There’s plenty of secrets I could share.”
You couldn’t tell him, of course, that you wanted to spring from your seat on the carpeted floor into him and show him all the things you wished you would’ve done a year ago. No, that would be far too bold, far too reckless for an impromptu reconnection.
You played with the hem of your dress as you thought, trying not to get distracted by the man in front of you, knees brushing yours as you sat on your ankles. His pupils were blown, and you told yourself it was just the darkness as he looked at you expectantly. Or maybe it was the alcohol in his system, bogging down his brain just like it did yours. The haze made it difficult for you to think of anything but him.
“I want to kiss you really bad right now, Choso.” Oops. So much for not being reckless.
As soon as the words left you, his eyes widened, lined eyes becoming two white rings in the moonlight. His whole body, every fiber of his being, froze. He managed to stutter, “You- I… want to- what?”
And then the door opened.
“Time’s up, lovebirds!” Gojo’s voice sang out.
The thick air of the closet dissipated as you scrambled out. Like a weight lifted off your chest, you could finally breathe clearly again.
“No way that was seven minutes,” you said with a frown.
Even though the moment had passed, Choso found himself repeating your words in his head.
He should’ve taken the chance then.
Just like he should’ve a year ago, when he laid in your bed in your dorm room after walking you home after graduation. You both had reeked of alcohol, but something in him sobered up when he was with you. Instead, he just laid there motionless, as your head rested on his chest. You were still awake, he could tell by your breathing. Still in your party dress, on top of your covers, his hands gingerly placed on your waist like you were made of porcelain. He left early that same morning, and that was the last time you saw him.
It seemed like his life’s mission to ruin things for himself.
He just never quite knew what to do. Especially not when you looked at him like that. Like he meant something to you.
Gojo’s voice brought him back to earth. “Nah, seven minutes is just a suggestion!”
“...Satoru, it's in the name,” Choso sighed.
Back in the living room, there was no sign of the circle for the game you were playing before.
Did they seriously only play it to get you and him to talk? Those bastards.
A few more drinks later, you were just a bit past tipsy. Choso stood beside you, looking like your bodyguard, casting sideways glances at anyone who got a little too close to you.
You didn't even notice.
Something was so freeing about being near him. You pulled him to the ‘dancefloor’ by the hem of his shirt, yanking on it with newfound confidence. He didn’t dance much, but he loved watching you. No part of him could deny that.
Hands connected, he spun you around, laughing at your cheers of excitement as the room spun around you. You were dizzy and breathless, and having the time of your life.
Your other friends had an easy time hunting you down, targeting Choso who stood well above everyone else. “Guys, it's almost midnight,” Geto said, prompting Gojo to usher you into the kitchen.
Already? This night was going by so fast. You didn't want it to end, afraid of you and Choso going back to the way you were before, no matter what he said.
From Gojo’s phone sitting in the center of the counter, everyone watched the clock tick. It was almost midnight. People started chanting from fifteen, loud even over the din of the music.
You looked around and realized he wasn’t beside you like you thought. Ten seconds to find him.
Head frantically whipping from side to side, you scoured the crowd.
You shoved through people as you spotted what you sought, the pale face sticking out a head above everyone else’s.
Seven.
The mob seemed to get bigger the further you got, slowing you down and blocking access. Those who were outside apparently found their way in for the countdown.
Five.
No, you thought. It can’t end like this. It’s not over.
Frustrated, your elbows swung to clear your path and your feet shuffled forward. You lost your drink somewhere along the way, and empty-handed, you braved the crowd.
Four.
Someone stepped on your foot, making you stumble, but you were so close, just a few feet from him now. You pressed on.
Choso was lost in thought, eyes glazed over as he stared. He was grateful to be off to the side, away from most of the commotion. Briefly, he wondered about you, wondered if he should just slip out of the party and never come back. It was in his bones to want to run.
Three.
Your hand met his wrist and his head snapped to look at you. It didn’t seem to register with him yet.
Two.
And then your palms were on his face, cupping his jaw and pulling him down to you. Time seemed to slow, inches turning to miles as you drew him in.
One.
Your lips crashed into his.
“Happy New Year!” the crowd rejoiced.
His eyes were wide before he realized what you were doing. Lids fluttered closed as his hands met your waist, gripping it firmly like he was afraid you'd disappear. Your lips were so soft, softer than even his dreams could've imagined. You were soft, hands on his face gentle like summer rain. It felt like every planet was suddenly aligned, beautiful syzygy working to fill his body from head to toe with a warm buzz.
Confetti from who knows where rained over you. Music blared and cheers erupted. You couldn’t hear any of it over the ringing in your ears.
The moment would be etched in his memory forever, he decided. Spit tasted like alcohol and your jaw quivered as it opened for his tongue. Atavistic instincts took him over, and even though he had little experience, it was divine.
It wasn't long enough before you pulled away.
“I don’t want you to leave again, Choso,” you murmured against his lips.
He hummed. “I can’t leave you.”
“Promise?”
Your arms found their way to the back of his neck and held him close to you. The look in his eyes was nothing short of tender, like he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything but you right now.
“Yes. I promise. I want to be yours.”
You giggled, “How’s that for a New Year’s kiss?”
“Much better than I thought,” he said. “Kiss me again.”
And you obliged.
“Guess they finally figured it out,” Geto said from behind you. When you turned, his arms were folded and he leaned casually against Gojo.
“Thank God,” Gojo groaned. “I was getting sick of all the sappy pining. It was getting painful.”
You told yourself you’d hit him later, but for right now, you just looked at Choso, both of you bursting into laughter. You sighed, “You guys suck…”
“Whatever you say. Now, let’s get shit-faced!”
You and everyone else in the crowd cheered.