trackstar ⸻ sukuna bg . friends don't look at friends that way
♫ it makes no sense ♫
masterlist
synopsis: f1's hot, nascar's not / wc: oop didn't count
if he tries hard enough, maybe this morning could last forever.
sunlight is filtering in through the soft curtains, the warmth of your body tucked into his, his arm wrapped around your waist like it has always belonged there, his nose buried into the top of your hair, smelling last night’s shampoo, your soft breathing, it was everything he always wanted, craved for.
but you’re stirring and he has to stop pretending to be asleep.
you slowly sit up and stretch, limbs reaching overhead. his heavy arm is still over your waist and you lift it off without mercy, flinging it off to the side before leaving the bed and going off to the restroom. you don’t even look back at him and it stings.
sukuna doesn’t move. no, he lays there and reassesses his entire life choices while you shower. maybe if he was a little bit smarter, things would be different. maybe if he was a little bit bolder, things could be different.
he hears the hair dryer come on and he repositions himself to what he thinks is his best side for when you come out, eyes shutting to continue his farce.
he hears your footsteps, a pause, and then a drawn out sigh.
the sound of your voice even when annoyed, he’s in love.
and then a pillow smacks him in the face.
his entire body flinches and jolts upwards. “you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” he groans, voice deep despite already being up for an hour now.
you stick your tongue out at him and he notices you’ve already dressed in last night’s clothes again. “stop pretending. it’s so obvious.”
it is, and he loves you for knowing. well, how could you not? the two of you were childhood friends. you had the unfortunate rng of being related to the forever famous darling giants. he had the unfortunate rng of being related to a line of famous and successful racers since his great grandpa’s days. because the two of you had been in the scene since babies and finding friends around the same age was hard to come by with all the events, your bond ran deep and long. both cursed with expectations and responsibilities, everything involved and in between that came with generations of legacies. both just wanting to enjoy some life and damn freedom.
sukuna was there for all your highs and lows. at all the solemn funerals when all you did was keep a brave face, only sobbing into his shoulders and chest when everyone filtered out of the room after fulfilling their obligations and responsibilities. at the press conference announcing your succession and new role. at all your charity events, even when he didn’t have to go. at your big ass condo that stunk with emptiness whenever he was in town, just to watch trashy reality tv or attempt making cookies from scratch, just to take the both of you back to your younger days like in highschool or college, as a reminder that you two are so much more than a ceo and a racer, that you two are humans who too deserved to live a little.
the two of you are best friends.
the line blurred a few years ago when the two of you were a drunken mess from an end-of-the-season party. he was drinking too much because he won that season. you were drinking too much because… well, he didn’t really know why and still forgets to ask. he just knew that the two of you stumbled into his hotel room and, evidently charged from a streak of unsatisfying partners, had sex.
sukuna had expected everything to change, dreaming of headlines of how formula one’s ceo and racer were dating. but the next morning, the two of you didn’t discuss it. he assumed that it was a mistake that you wanted to sweep under the rug. to not ruin your friendship? he didn’t mind. but then it happened again… and again… and again. and naturally the two of you fell into a lull of hooking up without labels.
sukuna thinks it was probably after the first four times that he realized he was in love with you. but who really knows when? he probably fell in love with you back when he was in middle school or something. and he’s tried to change the relationship, multiple times, but it seemed like his words were always wrong or maybe it was just the timing that was wrong or both. another curse. whenever he was with you, he never knew the right words to make you his. they just jumbled up and came out all wrong. like the universe fitted his life to never belong with you.
“you’ve got training today. don’t miss it.” you say curtly, already scrolling through your phone to see what meetings you have planned for the day.
he grunts, musing his hair and reluctantly checking his phone. after a few seconds of pretending to read anything on his phone, the pink haired man watches you from the corner of his eye. your back is turned to him and the bed and you’re distracted. so he crawls across the blankets slowly and abruptly pulls you by the waist. a squeak escapes your lips as your phone drops to the carpeted ground. you’re being pulled onto his lap and he buries his head into the crook of your neck.
you let out a sigh and lightly smack his arm that’s firmly banded around your waist. “ryo, what are you doing? let go.”
sukuna shakes his head lightly, breathing you in like you’ll disappear if he does, and you roll your eyes.
why does he have to be so childish during the mornings? it’s making things so goddamn difficult.
skinship went off the charts the moment you two hooked up, so you were used to it at this point. but did he have to touch you every morning after like you guys were dating?
seeing that he wasn’t going to let up, you lean your head back against his shoulder and stare at the white ceiling. so clean and white, unlike your entire life.
“you should get a girlfriend,” you eventually murmur.
sukuna stills at your words and slightly lifts his head from your skin.
“you should be my girlfriend-”
you jerk back to look at him, eyes wide. “huh?” did you hear him right?
your childhood friend is gaping as well, unable to believe at what bold spirit suddenly possessed him to let those words leave his mouth. his mouth closes for a second. opens again, “-and make me a sandwich.” fuck, dude. there was something seriously wrong with him.
seeing your expression morph into something that said what the fuck, he drags a hand down his face and clears his throat. “no, i mean- i mean, we already fuck good. you like it, right? there’s no way any other guy fucks you better than me. so why don’t we just y’know, make it monogamous or whatever?”
you scrunch up your nose and that’s how sukuna knows that he’s once again fucking things up.
“har har.” you say sarcastically, pulling out of his grip, picking up your phone and now grabbing your belongings. “i’m just saying if you wanna cuddle, i bet you’d have no problem finding a bitch that’d be more than happy to within a ten foot radius.”
sukuna grabs a pillow and hugs it, now feeling quite empty with your body heat gone yet again. “i don’t wanna cuddle any other bitch.” he mumbles. he wants you, but you’re not getting the hint, and he doesn’t know how to say the words without adding in the shit ones.
“stop being afraid of commitment and commit. i’m your friend, not your cuddle buddy.”
his knuckles whiten in frustration and he’s two seconds from tearing this hotel pillow apart. red bull won’t be happy with the unnecessary extra charge. or maybe they won’t even notice after all the extra room service he ordered last night after fucking your brains out. “exactly my point!” something in him snaps and he chucks the pillow to the side, standing and grabbing your hand.
you startle for a second before glancing down at your connecting hands and dragging your eyes up to his face, brows furrowed.
sukuna, cheeks and ears slightly dusted pink, takes a deep breath, attempting to steady his heart and will himself to not fuck it up again.
he says your name softly in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. traitor.
“listen, i don’t want any other girl to cuddle with. you should know best that i kick those chicks out before i go to sleep or right when i wake up.”
you raise an eyebrow, not really understanding where he was going with this. “that still doesn’t mean you can use me as your permanent cuddle buddy.”
sukuna gently takes your other hand, despite you still holding your phone, just so he can try to get your full attention and ground himself. he’s gonna do it. now. right now.
“i know what i want.” pink eyes gaze into yours and you begin thinking that your friend is serious. “i want y-”
an out of character ring tone interrupts him, like a sarcastic classical melody in the verse of la la la-la la’s that you’d only assign to your little assistant, ijichi. you glance down at the phone vibrating in between your hands and he grimaces. even at the times he most desperately wants, it doesn’t feel good seeing you silence the phone.
you look back up at him, but the moment’s already gone, ruined. his courage has already puffed out and he can feel all the wrong words bubbling up in his chest, if he were to say anything else.
but more than anything, he might’ve been your friend, but you were still the ceo of formula one. and he’d never dare to drag you down when you’re already faced with so much scrutiny for being ‘a woman in a man’s world,’ as quote by some dipshit magazine that he wanted to burn down a many many times.
“sorry, you were saying?”
what’s another day on top of all the days that have already accumulated?
“it’s nothing. you should answer him before he shits himself.” and manages a slight upwards quirk on the corner of his lips.
that earns him a quiet giggle before you swipe to answer, letting go of his hands. “hello? yes, ijichi, i know the schedule for today. yes, i already reviewed the meeting notes. mhmm. yes. oh and be sure to double check the flight times, okay? i don’t want another incident like last year in milan.” at that mention, you glance at sukuna, shaking your head and smiling. for context, ijichi had a dyslexic moment and a good handful of racers were left behind when they were supposed to be transferred to the next city, forfeiting a precious day of familiarizing themselves with the circuit. a devastating blow.
sukuna watches you slide into your professional flow and the reality of everything sinks back in. who was he kidding? he knew where the two of you stood. the both of you were childhood friends, best friends. you were and would always be there for each other. and as your friend, first and foremost, how could he lump another responsibility onto you? did you even want a relationship? surely, you were content with how things currently were. you would say something if you weren’t, right? it was just him wanting something more. if he had to be a lovesick idiot for the rest of his life, then fuck him. being by your side, supporting you the way he always did and swore would forever do, was already everything and enough. he knew that. and maybe that’s why the universe sabotages him. honestly, maybe that’s why he self-sabotages. because he knows that if he truly tries to cross the line, to attempt something more serious, maybe that’ll scare you off or maybe you’ll force yourself into it just to go along with him. just like how you were forced into your role, going along with whatever legacy and responsibilities your dipshit of a father left you.
maybe he couldn’t have you in public or when the sun’s out. but he could still have you in his bed during the starry nights. maybe the two of you won’t be a couple or get married and be a family. but the two of you still had forever together. fuck all the guys you were fucking and all the girls he was fucking. they were temporary. you and sukuna? you two were for life, even if not in the way he wanted. at least you two would be side by side.
so sukuna holds his tongue, just smiles at you as you stack more tasks onto your poor assistant, and lets things go yet again.
“okay. is that all? all right, i’ll be there in an hour. bye.” you hang up and look back at your friend expectantly. “sorry about that… i must’ve forgotten to tell ijichi to call me an hour later than usual.” you sigh. morning phone calls like that were routine, just to make sure you both were on the same page. “anyways… what were you saying, ryo?”
sukuna wishes you’d just say his name, his nickname, a thousand times.
“yeah… i want you to make me a sandwich. that’s what i want.” he sounds defeated, but you miss it. you laugh, lightly jabbing him in the chest.
“okay, full circle comedian. don’t forget about training, okay? see you later.”
the door clicking behind you is so damn loud.
sukuna heaves a large sigh and falls backwards, landing on the bed with his arms spread out. the weight of your roles sits on his chest. he stares up at the vast and white ceiling. it’s so clean and white, unlike his life.
he thought that if he tried hard enough, maybe the morning could last forever. but he tried and now the morning is over.
hello. finally posted chapter one of the fic i have referenced in this post, this post, and this one.
at the end as at the start (link to ao3)
rating: not rated (for now)
genre: time loop
pairing: eva stratt & ryland grace
In another life — maybe the next one, maybe the one before — Eva Stratt learns that there are some things that she does not have the power to change, despite her best efforts. He always ends up on the Hail Mary. She always ends up alone.
pyr·rhic - (of a victory) won at too great a cost to have been worthwhile for the victor
Summary: In which the Inquisitor Dihris causes an avalanche in order to escape Corypheus's wrath. She is afraid that her actions will have cost her not only her life but those she holds dear.
Pairing: Cullen Rutherford and Female Lavellan Inquisitor
Warnings: survivors guilt, last hope, almost freezing to death
Word count: 2738
Authors note: This is my first time posting to tumblr so I'm learning the ropes... please be kind to me, thank you. This fic can be found on Ao3. If it is posted elsewhere, it has been stolen!
The first thing Dihris registered when she regained consciousness was the ringing in her ears and the dull throb of a headache. She couldn’t remember how she got to where she was and took a moment to lie on the floor to regain some sort of memory. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.
Ah yes. Corypheus.
She remembered launching the trebuchet at the mountain above Haven in hopes that an avalanche would potentially weaken Corypheus’s assault on their camp. It worked to an extent. Corypheus ceased his attack altogether. But Haven was destroyed. She single handedly destroyed her home, Dell’s home, and the home of her new friends. The home of people trying to survive.
As much as she wished to, her eyes could not produce tears. Her body knew the routine of survival. Despite the pounding in her head, she sat up and took in her surroundings. Some sort of cave had protected her from the avalanche. Thank Andraste. After standing up and regaining her balance, she slowly began walking towards the tunnel that hopefully led out of the cave. It took some time and fumbling, but she managed to reach the mouth.
This wasn’t the view she wanted to have. In fact, she couldn’t see anything. The air above was a sheet of white, snowflakes flying across the sky at high speeds. The winds sent a chill down to her bones. She couldn’t see anything off in the distance, and she wasn’t even sure how far in front of her she was actually seeing. The only sound in her ears was the sound of the wind streaming through the air, cutting against the stone of the cave behind her.
She sighed and trudged on.
She trudged on for what felt like hours.
Her ears were cold. She was convinced they would fall off.
She trudged on.
Wolves brushing against her thigh, nature's guidance forward. For a moment she felt Dalish again. She was not unfamiliar with snow and rough terrain. When she would scout the woods, she was well equipped. But as far as she could remember, there was no darkspawn god attempting to obliterate her. And she always had Dell scouting with her, watching from a distance.
She trudged on.
The wind stung her eyes. Had it not been so cold, she would shed a tear, but she was sure her tear ducts were frozen over. She could use a good cry right about now. Everything felt horrid and bleak. She was alone, utterly and abysmally. The presence of another person would be a prayer made true.
She trudged on.
Her breaths were becoming more laborious and difficult. Her thighs burned with every movement through the deep snow. The cold bit through her leather boots. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could handle it.
She trudged on.
She stumbled upon a campfire with embers still warm from a fire. She allowed herself to run her hands through the coals, the tingling warmth igniting feeling back into her palms. There was not a care for her hands being stained black. She was warm. She let out a sigh and gave herself a few more moments of respite. She could not stay forever so she forced herself back up with temperate hands and she trudged on.
She blinked and her eyelids were heavy. She could see a light in the distance but couldn’t place a source. Maybe this was death. Her steps became clumsy, her body failing.
“There she is!” yelled a commanding voice, jolting her awake momentarily.
“Thank the Maker!”
Dihris let herself collapse, but didn’t remain in the snow for long. She opened her eyes and saw Commander Cullen looking down at her with his palm cupping her cheek, warm leather heating her flesh. His gloved fingers quickly began unclasping his furs from his shoulders.
“Thank the Maker you’re okay, Dihris. We were worried sick.”
Dihris couldn’t move her lips at all so she blinked and a stiff sound left her lips.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Cullen effortlessly scooped her up in one arm and wrapped his furs around her, the sudden warmth a shock to her system. She huddled up and buried her nose into the soft furs of Cullen’s cloak, thankful for his generosity. He smelled like Ferelden pine and leather, and it calmed her anxiety.
The commander easily hoisted her in a bridal carry and walked surely in a direction that Dihris couldn’t keep up with anymore. She let herself close her eyes in his arms.
“Stay with me, Dee,” Cullen said quietly. “Can’t sleep yet. Wait until we get you to Mother Giselle.”
Dihris reluctantly opened her eyes with a hum and watched his face as he moved through the snow. Frostbitten and chilled to silence and she still loved watching him. He looked determined, hopeful, confident. That was what Dihris loved about Cullen. It’s what she came to admire and adore.
As she was drifting through her thoughts, the man looked down at her, his expression softening upon locking eyes. His eyebrows relaxed and a smile played upon his lips. He was reassuring her in a silent way only he knew how.
“You’re a strong woman, Dee. I admire you for how resilient you are.”
She hoped he couldn’t feel how hard her heart was pounding. But hearing that a great warrior such as he admired her made her feel flustered. She was just a woman from a Dalish clan forced into a rather undesirable situation. But he was grateful for it. And she couldn’t help but admit that she was too.
Her face nuzzled closer to his body and she tried to pretend the chuckle Cullen made was one of endearment and affection. She would give herself this if she would never have it again. She had to imagine that the entire Inquisition, whatever was left of it, was fuming with her, near death experience or not.
Her voice found a bit of power and spoke. Cullen looked at her.
“What was that?”
“I’m sorry.”
Their eyes locked for a moment and Cullen couldn’t help but smile. “You did what you needed to in order to survive. You drove Corypheus away. You saved a lot of people. If not for that, we would all be dead in the snow. Do not apologize for persevering. I can never fault you for that.”
His face hardened as an approaching fire illuminated his face.
“Mother Giselle,” he said. “I found Dihris.”
“Bring her here. Thank you Andraste for bringing her home.”
She mumbled softly and groaned at the movement and loss of Cullen’s body against hers. But she lied down and finally let herself drift off into an uncomfortable slumber.
It felt like no time at all had passed when she was awoken by shouting across the camp. She slowly sat up and gazed over where her advisors were standing with Cassandra, bitterly arguing about something. It took Dihris a moment to register what was being said.
“And what would you have me tell them?” Cullen said through gritted teeth. “This is not what we asked them to do.”
“We can’t ignore this,” spoke the Seeker, standing her ground.
“And who put you in charge?” Cullen spat. “We need a consensus or we have nothing.”
“Please,” pleaded Josephine. “Please use reason. Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition we are hobbled.”
Voices clashed together until Cassandra let out a roar. “Enough! This is getting us nowhere.”
The sudden silence was painful. Giselle came back to her side and urged her to lie down. “You need rest, dear.”
The guilt of this heated argument gnawed at Dihris’s stomach. “They’ve been at it for hours.”
“You’ve afforded them that luxury,” she said as she wrapped Cullen’s furs tighter around the elf’s shoulders. “Our leaders struggle because of what the survivors had witnessed. They saw their defender fall, and rise again like a phoenix.”
Dihris rubbed her forehead, trying to ease a growing migraine. She didn’t provide a response.
“The more the enemy is beyond us,” began Giselle, “the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. What have we been called to endure? What must we come to believe?”
Soon both hands covered Dihris’s face. “I know deep in my heart that I was meant for this but… what good did that do for Haven? So many people died. I caused that.”
When Giselle didn’t answer, Dihris stood carefully and began to wander, Cullen’s furs still keeping her warm. She locked eyes with the former Templar and she looked away in shame. She didn’t see the look of admiration and care in his eyes before they fell.
She couldn’t stand to look in her Commander’s eyes. She was full of guilt and shame for letting her people down once more. She got them into this situation and she didn’t know how to get them out.
Finally, her eyes relented and a tear fell down her cheek as she stood by a fire. After moments of silence, Giselle’s voice began to emanate through the makeshift camp, and voice after voice began to join. Dihris looked at the people around her and watched each individual solemnly add to the song. It was a sound of hope, no matter how tired or fatigued.
While her voice could get lost in the sea of harmonizing voices, she covered her eyes and allowed tears to slide down her cheeks. The sounds of the voices draining into her ears made her cry harder and she couldn’t calm herself down. And when she heard Cullen’s voice singing along, her shoulders began to shake. A hand on her forearm distracted her for a moment and she looked to the person that touched her.
“It’s okay, kid.”
“Varric…”
“C’mere.” He opened his arms out wide and Dihris fell into them gratefully. She let out a sigh, hiding her face in the top of his head. They stood like that for a few moments until the singing finally died down. The two pulled away, Varric flashing a soft smile at Dihris, who wiped the tears away from her face. His expression shifted slightly and he straightened.
“Hey Chuckles.”
Dihris turned to look at Solas who nodded only towards Dihris. “A word with you, please.”
It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, that much was obvious to the Herald. She looked at Varric who looked back at her with sympathy. With a sigh, she followed the elf. He stood on a cliff side overlooking the mountain pass, his profile illuminated by a veilfire torch on a stone.
“You know,” Solas started, “the humans haven’t raised one of our people so high in ages. Beyond counting even. Lethallan’s faith is hard won and worthy of pride. But Corypheus… the orb that he carried is ours. It caused the Breach to open in the first place. And unlocking that power must have caused the disaster at the Conclave. We need to figure out how he survived and prepare for whatever reaction might come out of it. We don’t know what they will do when they learn the orb is of our people.”
Dihris rolled her eyes. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to be having in the first place. The last thing she wanted was a lecture on her own culture by someone who didn’t know her or what her life in her clan was like. “It won’t matter if we can’t get out of… wherever we are.”
“That much is true. But, Dihris, you must remember that you did save the Inquisition at Haven, even if the avalanche is not what you wanted to happen.”
She glanced at the other elf with a grimace. “I didn’t want to cost the Inquisition it’s home.”
“You can save them again, you know. There is a place you can take them.” He looked at her with a cocked eyebrow and a weak smile playing at his lips.
The conversation left Dihris with her head hurting more and the anxiety returning to gnaw at her stomach. She wanted to go to bed and sleep until the Inquisition was over. But this was a dire situation. She needed to break the news to the advisors first. So when she finally rallied them all together, she let out a deep sigh.
“I know where we can go. Where the Inquisition can go.”
Cullen crossed his arms, the steel clanging together a little too loudly for Dihris’s liking, as he looked down at her. She forgot she was still wearing his cloak. Josephine and Leliana looked at her with disbelief.
“I know, I know, I just… I need you to trust me, please. There is a location north, if we continue to follow the mountain range. It should not be too far from here, hopefully a days worth of travel if we begin the move by sunrise tomorrow. Cullen, do you have a map? I need your trust and your hope.”
Leliana and Josephine looked at each other. The spymaster shrugged. Cullen opened up a map and set it down on the table in front of them. Dihris leaned forward and traced her finger over the mountain range. “We just need to follow this path. It will be rough but if we keep steady progress, we should make it within a day.”
Leliana looked at the map and nodded.
“We don’t have much to lose. I don’t think it’s a bad idea to go somewhere. We have a destination in mind and that’s better than what we have now. We’ll move at sunrise. I’ll begin to spread the word.”
“I’ll assist you, Leliana,” Josephine spoke. The two of them split in different directions, stopping to talk to different people to spread the news of what the morning would bring. They left Cullen and Dihris alone, standing next to a fire.
Dihris felt like a child again, nervous and bashful around the Commander. She could feel his gaze on her. Slowly she lifted her eyes to meet his.
“Cullen, I-”
“Dihris-”
They both stopped short, a soft laugh leaving Cullen’s throat. “My apologies. You should go first.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I always want to hear what you have to say.”
A blush grew on Dihris’s cheeks. She hoped the lighting of the fire hid it easily.
“I just… wanted to thank you. For saving me and believing in me. I don’t think I would be able to do this if I didn’t have someone like you on my side.” Subconsciously, she pulled the collar of the fur tighter around her neck. “I’m not good at leading. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m scared, I don’t know what’s going to happen and I’m so scared.”
“Fear is normal for a leader, Dihris. You’re doing a fine job. You have a plan to lead us to safety and that is more than what we asked for.”
Dihris sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you, honestly.”
She caught her breath after the statement, cursing herself internally in all different tongues for letting that slip. But when she glanced at Cullen, he was smiling, the grin stretching his cheeks.
“I uh… I’m flattered actually. I’m sure I’m not the only one.”
“Well… No, but you’re the one I’m the most grateful for. You put up with me a lot.”
“I’m not putting up with you, Dee. I mean everything I say.”
Dihris was fiddling with the fur on his collar and she swallowed nervously. “Well, I still appreciate it. And here, before I forget.” She shrugged off his cloak and handed it back to Cullen. “Thank you for letting me borrow this. And again for saving me.”
Cullen laughed quietly. “I would do it again, you know.”
She could fully feel the heat of her blush in the tips of her ears and she stifled a laugh - a nervous habit. “Thank you.”
He put a hand on her shoulder and gave a reaffirming squeeze. “You should get some rest. What with you stumbling in the frozen wilderness and a pilgrimage to make in the morning.”
“I agree. Thank you again.”
Cullen smiled at her and bowed politely. “Goodnight, Dihris.”
synopsis: f1's hot, nascar's not / wc: oop didn't count
you’re used to it.
the zipping sounds of metal death traps pushing air at over 200 miles per hour, crescendoing and whittling down to distant screeches in just a fraction of a second. the deafening cheers and clinks of glass. the blurs of distinct colors, brandishing team claims and loyalties like countries at war. the flashing lights of media and paparazzi alike. the curves and winds of asphalt that your eyes follow with close precision.
when you close your eyes, you can vividly remember when you were just a child, playing in your grandfather’s room while he worked on this very circuit. you knew this by heart. actually, you knew each and every circuit by heart. after all, you were the famous darling seiji’s granddaughter, genius formula one racing circuit designer.
you count the seconds quietly in your head. they’re on their last lap. your fingertip taps lightly against your crossed arms. you open your eyes and watch as two seconds later cars race across the finish line in a flurry.
“what a great opener to the season with ferrari’s star, gojo satoru!”
you exit your box and make your way down the steps to the media corner, flashes and cheers following after you. the commentators’ voices booming throughout the area.
“looks like we’re in for another exciting season. gojo always starts off strong, but red bull’s favorite, sukuna, is always known to finish in domination just like we saw last year and the year before. what do you think, david? who might win it for this year?”
“well, my personal favorite, as you know well, is mercedes’ geto suguru. while not consistent, he’s the dark horse that won five years ago. i’m hoping he can secure another victory this season.”
“here’s to hoping! well, now we’re seeing formula one’s ceo, y/n darling, approaching the winners to congratulate them before the interviews.”
dazzling lights all around you from the ongoing flashes, you approach a grinning white haired man standing in the middle of the attention, obviously first. to his right, a scowling man with pink hair and tattoos tracing his face, second. to his left, arms crossed, a man with black hair and a scar running down the corner of his mouth, third. the moment you step out onto the media corner, their attentions snap to you and your already fixed smile.
the annoying weight on your shoulders, something forced upon by your father, former head of formula one. he had conveniently exited this world and had declared you, his pride and joy, his one and only child, next ceo of formula one.
you approach the ferrari driver and extend a hand for formalities.
“congratulations, gojo. great start to the season.”
like he does every single time without fail, he takes your hand and raises it to his lips instead, glowing blue eyes latched onto yours. “thank you, princess. though i wish you would call me satoru.” his voice drops to a hushed volume.
you two were beyond a first name basis at this point, considering you were in his bed just last week. actually, you were in his bed on the regular. but in front of everyone? suicide. well, not that it was a secret. everyone knows you flirt with basically every top racer, ferrari and red bull’s being your apparent favorite to the watchful eye. but there were careful layers to it. in front of media and the public, you were professional and the picture perfect ceo. within the closer circles of the industry, you were flirtatious and rumors circled around you. behind closed doors… confidential. so you keep that professional smile on your face, remove your hand from his, and move on to the pink haired man.
your head tilts back even more as you look up at the absurdly tall man. really, what were they feeding all these racers? sukuna is smiling down at you, playful. the two of you were communicating silently through your stares, something you both had developed for years and years, considering the two of you were childhood friends, knowledge that wasn’t public.
“ryo, i’m surprised to see you here so soon.” you murmur lowly as he shakes your hand for the cameras, the only reason why you would ever risk calling someone by their first name.
he snorts loudly at your jab, used to it. “as the kids say, new year, new me.” he smugly side eyes gojo, already bristling at the fact he just heard you say sukuna’s first name yet refused to use his, and you stifle a giggle at their continued rivalry, moving on to the last one.
“fushiguro, great performance as usual.”
now that your brief duties were done, you were stepping back and letting the media, the crowd, the fans, engulf them.
you slink back into the vip section and watch the interviews unfold, though your mind and eyes glaze over.
that’s when you feel a body siddle up next to you, a presence you found familiar and comforting. everyone always thinks that gojo and sukuna were your favorites. but past interviews and words from your very own mouth would show that it was actually mercedes’ top driver. perhaps that commentator, was his name david, had taste and an eye for this after all.
you crane your head upwards and your lips curl into a smile. “geto,” you hum. “i’ll have you know that i’ve placed my bets on you. don’t make a girl cry now.”
“wouldn’t dream of it.”
“then i look forward to you climbing up to p1.” you wink.
the two of you stare at gojo who must’ve been asked an exciting question, because he was grabbing the mic from the reporter and going on a rant of an answer, sukuna and toji both in the background shaking their heads and pretending that they don’t know him.
the umber haired man sighs while running a hand through his hair. “idiot.”
you side eye him with an amused smile. “that’s your idiot.” his best friend, in fact, since junior high. something you learned through the years.
geto shrugs in defeat before changing the subject. “so the opening season party tonight-”
“there’s a party every night,” you laughed.
“-are you going?”
“of course.” you pause. then, subtly tucking a few strands behind your ear, a bit shyly, “are you?”
he looks at you with a sly smile. “since you're going.”
you roll your eyes, trying to laugh it off, ignore the butterflies that lodge themselves in your lungs. “sounds like a shot for shot kind of night.”
he raises an eyebrow. “can you even keep up with me?”
“wanna gamble and see?”
geto opens his mouth and closes it, thinking better of it, on the off chance you do out drink him. he holds onto his chin while thinking seriously. “we've got a meeting tomorrow morning…”
“ah.” you’re a bit disappointed and there’s a small pout on your face.
geto does all he can to bite back a smile, relishing in your reaction. it meant you wanted to party with him. and you were so cute looking like that. he clears his throat to reset his expression. “rain check for singappore?”
you pretend to mull over it, putting on quite a dramatic performance, before flashing him a smile. “bet.” a buzz in your pocket pulls you from the conversation. you check your phone to see a text from your childhood friend.
dibs for tonight
looking up, your eyes meet across the space. he’s now talking to the reporter, acting quite professional, before his eyes slide to you. the pink haired man flashes you a smile that makes your stomach flip and you clear your throat awkwardly.
“got a buddy for tonight?” geto observes, laying out the obvious of what had just transpired in front of him.
“yeah.” you don’t sound excited. and it could be because you’re a bit tired or disappointed to be arriving and leaving the evening’s party with sukuna, of all people. “just as friends, though.” you cement. because that’s all the two of you will ever be, regardless of how you felt about it.
he hums, as if pleased. “good.” someone shouts his name, perhaps a teammate or his manager, signaling for him to go over to where his team was gathering. geto sighs before smiling at you one last time. “see you tonight.”
“see you.” you lazily wave him off, eyes trailing after him.
some part of you wants to summon up the courage to sleep with geto and perhaps, daringly, make it official. he was your favorite. he was tall, handsome, had a great sense of humor, witty, the entire package. more importantly, he was a gentleman, unlike gojo. and he looked like the type that wouldn’t break your heart, unlike sukuna. but because you found him to be gentle, you didn’t want to disturb the friendship the two of you had grown over the years. after all, that’s what got you into your current predicament with the two top racers. at some points, you wish you could turn back time. but you also knew deep down that you were never the steady relationship type of girl. what part of your world would even allow that?
geto was probably the type to take you out to dinner and didn’t care if he got some at the end of the night or not. he’d probably be content just cuddling. he’d probably wash your hair if you two showered together and dried it too. he’d probably surprise you with flowers just because, give you forehead kisses, walk you to your room each night…. anything and everything you’d ever dream of. he was probably the type that you wouldn’t mind marrying.
but the fact of the matter was that you were a coward. and you were set in your ways. which is why you were stuck rotating between sukuna and gojo, something you weren’t complaining about but was a curse all at the same time.
“princess.” a purr low and next to your ear.
you tear your eyes away from a pipe dream back to reality, meeting electric blue eyes. “gojo.” you deadpan, unamused.
“satoru,” he tries to correct you, but you’re already walking away.
the warmth on your back tells you that he’s persistently following you. that and his voice. “i thought we’ve been over this before. won’t you pretty please call me by my first name? don’t be shy, baby.”
“i’m not being shy, i’m being professional. we’re not that close.” you reply without skipping a beat.
you can already see the white haired man rolling his eyes as he scoffs. “and you and that piece of trash are? i hear you calling him ‘ryo.’” he says pointedly, like that should make you pause.
you don't feel bad about keeping the gorgeous man at an arm's length away, at a 99-foot pole length's away, because it's what you guys agreed on in the beginning. only sex, nothing more. plus, you couldn't bear more heartache and disappointment. was it fair of you to expect that from a different person? no. but you weren't going to risk it.
you leave out crucial information, because it doesn’t matter, shouldn’t matter, not to a relationship like yours and gojo’s. “ryo’s ryo. you’re gojo.” it’s just a matter of fact.
“-satoru.” he cuts in, correcting you once again. he switches gears, not wanting to spend too much time yapping about someone that’s only going to irritate him even further. “anyways, the party tonight. you’re going. i’m going. wanna go together?”
the two of you were approaching the exit of the raceway. gojo, all too familiar with situations like this, knows he doesn’t have much time left before you disappear until tonight.
“no.”
he raises an eyebrow. “no? what, you got a hot date already or something?”
“yeah, i’m already going with someone else.” you say, already pushing open the doors to where valet is faithfully waiting with your car door already opened without so much of a goodbye, leaving gojo dumbfounded and frozen inside the building, the door slowly closing like a comedic movie scene.
the gears in his brain begin moving again after closing a shit ton of imaginary tabs.
synopsis: f1's hot, nascar's not / wc: oop didn't count
you wish you didn’t spend so much time and care getting ready, especially considering who’s your date tonight. however, that was probably also the reason why you did end up putting in all that effort. always teetering between caring and trying not to. sure, you always carried yourself like you didn’t care. but at the end of the day, underneath all those layers and walls? you did. you always do.
you hook your arm through sukuna’s and tilt your head upwards to look at him. he was handsome, dressed in a simple black button up and black pants, solid chest peeking through the open fabric and arms on displayed from the rolled up sleeves. your gaze traces the black ink on his skin and for a moment, it feels like you’re just tracing circuits. the two of you have always joked that he should get one tatted, a whole ass track.
there’s a light flick to your forehead to pull you out of your thoughts and you jerk back in surprise, now glaring at your friend.
“hey! what was that for?”
“you were spacing out. need a moment before we go in?” he’s smirking in amusement, but you know better. sometimes you needed a moment, and he was always prepared to give you that space.
you pull on a smile, a mischevious glint in your eyes. “no, now let’s get trashed.”
the space is thrumming with energy, bass thumping loudly as you and sukuna navigate through the throngs of people. the crowd parts for the two of you, because you’re the ceo and he’s a top racer, perhaps the most popular you can be in the formula one scene. you’re both gesturing and saying hi to various people as you make your way to the bar.
the pink haired man leans against the counter on his forearms and waves down a bartender to order your and his drink, just the usual. while he’s doing that, your eyes scan the room. racers, mechanics, various team members, acquaintances, sponsors, dates, everyone and in between attended these parties. so when you’re scanning the room in hopes of seeing a dark haired man and avoiding a certain white haired man, you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed and relieved all at once.
a body slides in between the two of you and you frown, already knowing who it is.
“whiskey, on this dude.” fushiguro smirks, thumb jabbing in sukuna’s direction.
your pink haired man scoffs and rolls his eyes. he flings his card down on the bar, all the same.
two drinks slide in front of sukuna and he nudges yours in your direction.
“cheers,” you say monotonously, clearly not enjoying that you can’t even take a proper shot with your friend. nonetheless, you take yours and, out of the corner of your eye, you see fushiguro swiping sukuna’s and knocks it back. you frown up at him and elbow him in the side. you wish he’d at least choke a bit or cough, but he was just too fast.
“loser.” you and sukuna both glare at him, but he just laughs and turns to the red bull racer.
“that’s what you get for being too slow. things get taken away from you.” he says. “so who’s the real loser?”
sukuna’s brows crease and he wants to punch his friend in the face, demote him from being a friend, in fact. he doesn’t always air out his grievances, but fushiguro isn’t blind, and there’s been enough instances where sukuna’s admittedly gotten drunk and let a few things slip. enough times for fushiguro to piece things together. and it’s annoying that he’s inserted that slight. but he’s not going to punch someone in front of you, even if it was well deserved, so he slides his hands into his pockets instead, heaving a large sigh and giving a specific look to the bartender, silently saying another one.
“don’t say shit you know nothing about.” he grumbles, but fushiguro is already laughing and wrapping an arm around each of your necks, causing the both of you to jerk closer.
“i’m just playing around. we getting shit faced tonight or what?”
you shove him with enough force to make him let go of you and you straighten yourself out, smoothing down your hair and dress. “yeah, just not with you.”
“oh don’t be like that, doll. we’re all here to have a good time. no need to island yourself off with this guy.”
sukuna tries not to outwardly bristle and takes the newly made drink from the bartender, drinking it before fushiguro can even think about swiping that as well. fushiguro’s ordered glass sits in front of him, but he’s busy looking at you, clearly having fun causing sukuna trouble.
you lean forward and the large man subtly tilts back. you raise an eyebrow in amusement as you catch that small motion, a smile curling up on your face. you always knew he didn’t like you, or in better terms was neutral about you, but he sure really didn’t like you enough for you to enter his personal space.
“get a date. then you won’t have to beg to third wheel.” you smile before snatching his drink and tossing it back. the sound of the glass hitting the bar is so satisfying, but only because there’s a crack in fushiguro’s expression, the scar on the side of his mouth feathering. there’s a dramatic faux expression of shock on your face and your hand flies up to your mouth. “oh no, i guess that’s what you get for being too slow? well, not that it’s a stranger to you, getting overtaken all season? try not to let it happen too much on the asphalt, kid.” there’s a mean smirk on your face. “come on, ryo. i wanna dance.” you extend an arm out without breaking eye contact with the dark haired man and sukuna gladly moves around the body to escort you hand in hand to the dance floor.
good fucking riddance, he thinks. after all, he asked you to be his date. sharing your time with others? not in his plans for tonight.
the two of you move like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your back is turned to sukuna and he lets a hand grip your hip while the two of you dance. sometimes you’ll roll your body and your ass brushes against his pants. sometimes you’ll reach back to wrap behind his neck, sliding your body down against his. sometimes you’ll twirl back around to face him and wrap your hands loosely around his neck, grinning up at him all the while doing so.
sukuna thinks you’re going to kill him. and that’s how he’s going to end his racing career, death by you.
it’s all in good fun and nature, something the two of you had always done, even way before starting your friends with benefits situation. but that doesn’t help the growing uncomfortable situation in his pants. sukuna eventually grips your waist and you pause to look at him.
“i’m going to get us more drinks. stay right here, okay, angel?”
to get drinks and to give him a few minutes to calm the fuck down.
you nod, smiling, before turning and continuing to sway to the beat of the music.
for a brief second, a familiar blonde enters your view, presses a glass into your hand, and leaves just like that. you don’t question it and take a sip before resuming your movements. you’re dancing for just a few seconds until you feel jabs in your right shoulder. you whip around only to see a girl you’ve never seen before. before you can say anything, she beats you to it.
“bitch, who the fuck are you? that’s my man!”
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
gojo’s salty.
he wanted to come to the party wtith you, but you already had a date. what does that even mean, anyways? it’s not like you and sukuna are official. in fact, that red bull idiot wasn’t the only problem. the real problem is whenever you attended events with a date, you always made sure that most of your time was dedicated to the lucky bastard. which meant that glances were barely spared to poor gojo. at least in a general setting, you’d at least look at him whenever he tried to shamelessly flirt with you. but at events with a date? you give him an even flatter unimpressed expression and the cold shoulder.
you really know how to wound a guy.
so now the racer is sulking on a leather couch, arms spread out along the back while his body slumps down, essentially letting his arms be the only thing ot hold himself up, uninterestedly looking around the room. sure, he could’ve brought arm candy for the night, at least as a distraction, but he hadn’t been in the mood. he wanted you.
a glass is set down on the low table in front of him and gojo doesn’t have to look up to know it’s his dear friend and mechanic, nanami. the blonde plops into the space next to him and takes a sip from his own glass.
“if you’re going to act like this, let’s just go back to the hotel.”
“no!” childish? perhaps. but maybe he liked to make his own self suffer.
“maybe you like making yourself suffer.”
“…. no…”
“masochist.”
“says the guy who still came to a party that you always claim to hate!” gojo retorts quickly, ready to defend his honor.
nanami gives him a deadpanned expression. “you threatened to sharpie dicks on your car and blame it on me on national television.”
the white haired man pauses. “oh yeah…”
his gaze sweeps across the room again and he spots you instantly. how could he not? he silently watches the way your dress hugs you, accents your body so well, revealing in all the right places in a tasteful manner that still leaves so much to the imagination. wearing makeup that makes you seem like you’re glowing, hair done in a way that makes you all the more beautiful. you were breathtaking. and hot. and you have your arm looped with sukuna's.
gojo leans forward and swipes the drink nanami gave him and downs it in one go. his friend raises an eyebrow and slides his own line of sight to you and the pink haired man.
“ah.” he notes.
gojo’s seething. it’s torture, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene. watching you hold his hand, watching you dance and move your body in such a hot and sexual way with him. that should be him with you. at some point, nanami grows bored with the entire situation and leaves. gojo barely even registers that nanami walks to you to give you the rest of his drink.
at some point, gojo’s standing. he walks to the bar and orders a drink, downs that too. he waves for the bartender for another. as he waits, he turns, leans back against the counter, and is surprised to see you alone.
well, alone for a second.
before he knows it, there’s a girl strutting up to you and forcing your attention. you clearly dont know her and she seems to be going off on you. all context clues point to the stranger being one of sukuna’s hooks-ups, one that got a bit too clingy.
she’s jabbing your shoulder now as she waves her hands around, clearly angry and animated about it. on any other day, he’d be rushing to your side. but today? gojo finds it hard to be a little sympathetic watching the scene unfold. after all, you did come to the party with sukuna and not him. did you deserve all the words being thrown at your face? no, but he couldn’t help but admit that it felt a little good seeing you being knocked down a peg, especially when it was because of sukuna. like, that’ll teach you for picking the wrong guy. childish? yes. but also he wouldn’t be caught dead with one of his side bitches showing at any of these events.
a few gasps erupted and gojo’s jaw clicks at the girl throwing her cocktail drink at your face.
but seeing you throw nanami’s drink right back at her followed by a back handed slap without hesitation? that threw all of gojo’s bitterness out of the window and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
the shit you were spitting back out at the girl was a thousand times worse.
darling princess of formula one?
yeah,
and with claws.
that’s what made him and sukuna so mesmerized with you, after all. you knew how to bite back. you weren’t afraid. what could be worse than being seiji and hiro’s offspring? of course, he romanticized about it growing up, wondered what kind of life he would lead if he was in your shoes. but over the years of getting to know you, you didn’t bask in the spotlight. you were forced into it. you wouldn’t smear their legacy, but you didn’t take it a step further, a step back, a fine line that you learned to balance on like a tightrope walker. the pressure pounding on your shoulders, it was no wonder you grew tougher skin. after all, yielding would also mean smearing your family’s name.
gojo continues snickering and takes a step forward, ready to finally play the assisting hero to the rescue, to send the girl on her way. she was stuttering, scrambling for anything, desperately trying to double down on the fight she started but was clearly unable to end.
well, he was laughing. but sukuna had the last laugh really, didn’t he?
he sees sukuna from across the room, smugly smiling as if to say that’s my girl. and that’s what stops gojo’s tracks. the way the pink haired man slides up next to you, hand possessively gripping your waist.
the side bitch flinches like she’s been wounded and tries for alligator tears, clearly begging for sukuna to see her side of things. but his crimson eyes are on you, solely on you, like you’re the only person in the room. you shut your eyes, open them, and grin, taking a step forward. she scampers at the implication, rather trying to save what’s left of her tattered dignity than suffer what else you could do to her, considering you weren’t scared to talk back and slap her in front of the crowd. smart for not sticking around to see what else you’d do.
everything seems to melt back into normalcy, but gojo continues to watch on. you’re taking a drink from sukuna’s hand and scoffing a laugh at something he’s saying. his jaw clenches and he doesn’t even register the sound or feeling of his teeth grinding against each other. the music is blaring, but his head is so much damn louder.
your eyes avert for a moment and he catches them. everything seems to quiet a bit and he tries to smile at you, a hand half-heartedly in the air to wave. your expression seems to flicker for a moment, but you’re smiling and waving back before turning back to sukuna. the red bull racer is leading you off of the dance floor by the hand, disappearing into the thrumming crowd.
what was that?
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
sukuna is holding your hand, leading you through the crowd and towards red bull’s vip section. the entire confrontation had you feeling a bit floaty and numb. your hand stung from slapping the girl, the top of your dress and parts of your body was drenched and still dripping wet. but you keep your head up, a smile on your face- until you see him.
you feel your curled lips falter, twitch. shit.
you meet wide amethyst eyes and your lips part, breathless.
you and sukuna are brushing past geto.
sukuna glances at him and averts his gaze back to straight ahead of him, but geto’s eyes are solely on you. the faint smell of cigarettes brushes past you and then suddenly gets stronger as a hand grips your free wrist, causing you to whip around and stop sukuna in his tracks. red eyes gleam as they narrow. any other situation, you would’ve relished feeling like hot shit, having an attractive man holding on to each of your hands, one on each side. but right now? something was traveling down from your throat to your stomach.
“the fuck? let go.” sukuna growls.
geto’s eyes narrows and you think you’ve never seen something so hot before, flushing at the scene.
“i think you’ve taken up enough of her time.” amethyst orbs shift to you and softens. your name sounds like heaven coming from his lips. “mind if we talk privately?”
you have a rule. no matter what event or who you’re going with, whoever you’re going with gets all your attention, like a reward for asking politely, for wanting you. but tonight, for some reason, you break it.
you turn your head and give sukuna a look. you’re not too sure what kind of exxpression you’re wearing, but whatever it is, it gets the message across. something flickers across sukuna’s face and he lets go of your hand like he’s been burned.
“fine,” he seems to spat out. then, pausing for a bit, gently, “just text me, okay?”
you nod and feel geto begin pulling you away. you let your legs move, but your eyes linger on sukuna for a moment longer. he breaks it first. the pink haired man turns and slinks into the crowd, disappearing.
geto pulls you in the opposite direction, straight into mercedes’ vip section which was more secluded and quiet, granted you could only get so much of that at a club.
he seems to crowd you against the far corner of the couch, partially hidden by a well positioned plant. you’re not too sure why, but you brace yourself as he looms over you, getting closer and closer. you always knew he was tall and built, but was he always this big? and suddenly, you’re met with a soft fabric being dabbed gently on the side of your face and neck. you stare at him wide-eyed, watching his intense focus.
as he finishes, he gives an awkward smile and hands you the handkerchief in his hand. “sorry, i’d get more but… i’m not sure if you want me to ruin your makeup.”
you take it, but your hand falls limply in your lap, the only sign of life are your whitened knuckles, clutching onto it. “thanks,” you mumble, cheeks growing warm at the gentle gesture.
seconds tick before the umber haired man leans forward, taking one of the many bottles spread across the coffee table and pouring you a glass. he leans back onto the couch and drapes an arm around your shoulders, his other hand resting on your thigh, thumb moving in soothing circles.
“are you okay?”
his voice vibrates next to your ear and you huff, a smile on your lips still before you take a sip of your drink. “why wouldn’t i be?”
when you meet his eyes, you falter. again. so you look away for a moment to recollect yourself, glad for the indoor plant being tall and wide enough to conceal you from the rest of the room.
what’s wrong with you? get it together.
“he really needs to stop making me clean up his messes,” you say in a mixture of half seriousness and half jokes. your curt laugh sounds tired. but it also wasn’t fair. even if your friend was a jerk, he wasn’t totally heartless to you. despite all the ego and smirks, he was probably feeling bad about it and overthinking it right now. either that, or already diving in between a girl’s legs. “it’s okay, i’m used to it.” you do your best not to sound bitter about it. it was just the truth. it’s what came with being sukuna’s friend and situationship partner. you were accused time and time again, so you might as well put on a show and get some dick with it. honestly, you just wanted to apologize to geto for having to see what he saw, but it didn’t seem like the right words to say. so you don’t.
“you shouldn’t have to get used to it,” he murmurs.
you hum, noncommital. you swirl the drink once in your hand, watching the dark amber move. you feel yourself slouch the slightest bit, lean into him gingerly, allow yourself to let a bit of honesty quietly slip from your lips. “right?”
you set the glass down and clap your hands together, as if closing a book. “let’s stop talking about it.” your fingers wrap around geto’s bicep and you lean close to him, smiling. “let’s drink instead!”
there’s a defeated lopsided smile on his face. “okay, but not too much. i have-”
“training tomorrow. i know. just a little bit.” you squeeze your thumb and index finger together and he laughs, easily caving in to your demands.
“okay.” pausing, he then stares directly into your eyes, a slight air of seriousness washing over him. “but on one condition. you start using my first name.”
you’re taken aback for a quick second before grinning. “deal!”
“cheers, angel.”
“cheers, suguru.”
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
suguru’s taking me back to the hotel. sorry
his screen blackens after being idle for too long. sukuna unlocks his phone again for the second time and he finally sends you a reply.
no worries. get back safe. sleep tight.
the pink haired man pockets his phone and slumps forward, burying his face into crossed arms as he leans against the club balcony’s railings. the metal feels cool against his arms. all he can think about is what does that mean? were you going to add that guy to your roster and sleep with him tonight?
there’s a low whistle to his direct left. “slow and messy. dumb might be it to perfect the trifecta.”
sukuna turns his head, despite already knowing who it is, and his eyes narrow at the umber haired man. “shut up.” he snaps.
fushiguro leans against the railing alongside him, propping his head up on an arm. “i’m just saying, you’re really fucking it up.”
“i-” words fail him. he can’t help but feel like it’s his fault. he knows it’s his fault. he still slept around with other girls, and sure he makes sure that they’re not super in the formula one loop, but sometimes a batshit crazy bitch finds a way to wriggle her way in to a party in hopes of a second chance. things like this happened commonly enough. how long had you have to put up with these random hoes in his life? too many years to count. but he still does it anyways, entertaining girls, picking them up, all for a quick fuck that gives him the worst post-nut clarity.
the umber haired man nudges him, shoulder to shoulder. “dude, i really don’t get you. it’s not like she’s head over heels for some other guy. aren’t the two of you childhood friends or something? considering she kept your sorry ass around this long, that has to count for something, right?”
sukuna stares ahead of him, eyes slowly lowering from the starless sky to the city lights. “you don’t get it… we’re just friends.” that’s what it all counted for, that you two would always be there for each other, no matter your relationship.
he hears a faint giggle echo off the near empty streets and his ruby gaze sets on you. you’re beautiful and barefoot, floating across the sidewalk with the mercedes racer in tow, your heels hanging off of his fingers, propped up and over his shoulders. something squeezes unpleasantly in his chest at the sight.
“friends, huh?” fushiguro hums, watching the scene also.
you’re twirling yourself around a light pole before running up to geto, all smiles and laughter.
“well, if that’s what you want.”
the unsaid words were loud. because he was slow, you’re going to be taken away. because he was slow, being friends is really all the two of you will ever be.
sukuna leans further on the balcony’s railings and his eyes slowly close, watching you use geto’s shoulders to get up on your tippytoes and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. just before his eyes fully shut, the sight of geto’s smile haunts him. it’s all dark now, but he hears your giggle carrying across the street. his heart hurts.
me writing notes on her emotions i want to convey (inflict emotional pain) to my readers next chapter and there's one line in my notebook here where i said
"describe how she wants to be distraught but she can't bc he's here, and he's alive, and he's standing in front of her and maybe this time she doesn't have to lose him"
in case you wanna know the vibe we have for chapter two
everyone, please welcome the new fmc on campus, you.
synopsis: you have been best friends with megumi since you were kids. always joined by the hip, you're now starting college together. megumi thinks it's going to be the same as always. you, on the other hand, want to explore what's in so-and-so's pants true university life. first mistake, megumi joins a frat. second mistake, megumi takes you to a party. lots of hooking up ensues / pairings: fem!reader x childhoodbestfriend!megumi, fem!reader x fwb!satoru, fem!reader x fwb!suguru, fem!reader x fwb!sukuna / content: first day college life, nothing really happens / wc: 7.8k
bear notes: super slow, just setting the stage! i do apologize for keeping my oc's name even though i tried to make it as reader-oriented as possible. i tried to replace it with your standard "(y/n)" but it honestly didn't hit the same, especially when this was originally written for my oc and names are so powerful in most of my writings. how each character uses your/eri's name reveals so much, just as much as you/eri uses their names. anyways, please be gentle with me. hope you enjoy!
updated bear notes: i've decided to challenge myself and edited the entire chapter so that everyone can self insert and enjoy the story more! / y/n = your full name, y/fn = first name, y/ln = last name, y/nn = nickname
-
with an exhale of relief, you dust off your hands and take a step back to admire your work. you cross your arms and tilt your head slightly to the side, assessing the entirety of your room for what it was. all the furniture had been moved around at least several times, all the decorations you took great care to position took longer, and finding a home for everything you owned was almost a lost cause. however, after a grueling night and morning, everything was now done. you were fully moved in and ready to start college at jujutsu university.
knock knock.
"come in!" you sing-song.
the door swings open to reveal a tall and slim man. long black lashes brushed against his rather pale cheeks. his hair was spiked in every direction and long bangs swept over his eyes, a style choice that has stuck ever since he was a child and now cost a good portion of his morning orutine, sporting a simple black shirt and dark jeans that probably cost way too much for what it appeared to be. he casually leans against the doorway, not daring to enter the space as he looked around. it was your childhood best friend, fushiguro megumi. oh, scratch that. it was your childhood best friend and roommate, fushiguro megumi, whom you fondly nicknamed gumi ever since you were kids.
two muzzles poke their way in, one white and one black, but megumi sticks out his leg to prevent them from entering the room.
"shiro, kuro, no."
the dogs whimper and turn tail, off to find some sort of interest elsewhere.
"so, you finally finished?" he hums, turning his attention back to you.
you flash a grin over your shoulder. "yeah, like it?"
he gives a show of hm-ing and rubbing his chin before playfully raising an eyebrow. "kinda too girly for my tastes."
crossing the room, you lightly punch him in the arm. "shut up, gumi. wait till you see it at night. i put up fairy lights! a whole bunch of them. you'd be surprised what you can buy in bulk."
he ruffles your hair without a care for what you have to say about your choice of decor, nor how you obtained it, already turning to exit the room. you huff after him, hands already smoothing down your ruined hair.
"come on, let's go to campus so you won't be totally lost tomorrow."
you gasp. a quick look down at your cleaning and organizing outfit revealed nothing ready for the public. a middle school old pe shirt didn't really exude aesthetic college girl. "wait, i'm not even dressed yet!"
frantically rushing to your closet, you shuffle through organized clothing, perhaps undoing all your hard work in a matter of seconds. you throw on a white pleated tennis skirt that fell to the middle of your thigh, a sleeveless baby pink tank, and a white bolero with thumb holes. you were pulling your hair into a high pony when you heard him.
"i'm leaving!" he shouted, without a doubt, from the front door.
"coming, coming! ugh, remind me why we decided to be roommates." you scowl at him, moving to the entrance where he stood waiting. it took another minute for you to pull on some white high-heeled mary janes over your pink ruffled socks.
the umber haired man smiles down at you in amusement, taking some joy in your frantic actions of trying to rush out the door at his pace.
"yeah, try getting rid of me after all these years."
you stick your tongue out at him while the two of you began walking down to his car.
you and megumi have been childhood friends for forever, a classic tale as old as time. you were best friends joined at the hip for as long as you could remember, all thanks to your moms and being nextdoor neighbors. pretty much everything there was to experience—all the years from elementary to high school, puberty, petty arguments to even serious ones, first parties, first alcoholic drinks, first disturbing regurgitations, first relationships and breakups, countless concerts and movies nights, and even applying and getting in to jujutsu university together—you had done it all together.
however, right before the first semester of college began, you had spontaneously applied and secured a coveted spot for a study abroad program in europe. you took the opportunity and, as a result, have yet to lay eyes on the campus. months were spent with an insane amount of texts, calls, and facetimes between you two. while you were telling megumi stories of the latest cultural dish you discovered and what sights you’ve seen, he was filling you in on campus gossip and even friends he’s made along the way. it was admittedly hard to be apart from him, but now that the first semester and study abroad program was over, you were now ready to reunite with your childhood best friend and finally start your college life.
which brings us to why you’ve moved in with megumi and his adorable fluffy dogs. it was really the only option you had that your parents approved of. they could always trust megumi to keep you safe. plus, it was something that the two of you had always talked about while growing up.
the two of you were leisurely strolling around campus. the buildings were a mix of different designs, old school architectural choices that screamed aesthetic and newly built sleek modern, and all the greenery made the campus absolutely beautiful. it almost made you regret missing out on your first semester as a traditional student, but you still had all three years and then some to make memories. megumi pointed out buildings that you’d have class in together as you walked by. with a small bit of luck and an insane amount of planning, the two of you managed to get a few classes lined up together. the only major differences were your specialty classes. megumi was a photography major while you were an arts major.
“by the way, are you going to join any clubs?” he asks, hands tucked away into the pockets of his jeans.
you hum, trying to remember what clubs jjku even had to offer just to dump it all out of your mind. “i think my hands will be full just trying to keep up. i feel so behind.”
“didn’t you paint a whole bunch of stuff while in europe to boost your portfolio?”
“yeah, but it’s not the same as painting on a campus. different inspirations.”
he nods in response, understanding fully well as a fellow creative.
the campus coffee shop came into view and megumi pointed it out as a spot that he frequented with his friends.
“let’s grab a drink.”
you grin and playfully nudge him in the side with your entire body. “you’re treating? thanks, gumi~!”
he scowled and rolled his eyes, but you knew he was doing it in an endearing way. it was all for show.
the coffee shop was surprisingly full for a weekend before school even started back up. there were all sorts of people chatting away with their friends or trying to cram in some preemptive studying. your condolences to the try-hards. the place was littered with plants and beautiful natural light blanketed the entire place. it was definitely cozy vibes, for real.
you approach the counter and began scanning the menu, though you already knew what you wanted.
“fushiguro? what are you doing here? school hasn’t even started yet.”
your head whip upwards at the sound of a girl’s voice. a girl familiar with megumi? there were only two names that you knew of, recalling the limited roster of friends that he deemed worthy enough to share.
she was gorgeous, tall, lean, with dark green hair pulled back into a pony. thin glasses sat on her nose. her arms were crossed as she stood at the cash register, an eyebrow raised at the two of you. it looked like she wasn’t familiar with the sight of megumi with a girl in general either.
your jaw instantly drops as you’re finally able to put a name to a face. “zenin maki? THE maki?” you blurt out, hands coming up to your mouth as you began internally fangirling. megumi had regaled you with tales of a certain zenin maki with a vicious personality and even nastier mouth. she’s gotten under megumi’s skin enough times for you to admire her.
she raises an eyebrow at you and cocks an amused smile at your best friend. “fushiguro’s been talking about me?”
before the interaction could begin derailing, megumi abruptly cuts in. “maki-senpai. i’m taking my friend around since she’s new to campus. this is y/n. y/nn, this is maki-senpai.” megumi introduces.
you reign in the fangirling and smile politely, bowing in greeting before turning to give an amused smile to your best friend. “first name basis, huh?”
the implication made him frown deeply and the girl imaginary gagged which made you let out a solid “pfft.”
“please, don’t even. hetero men give me the ick. i just can’t deal with my last name. you,” she smiles with an air that’s absolutely alluring, “can call me maki.”
you grin. “you can call me y/nn.”
a lightbulb seems to go off in her head. “oh, you’re y/fn. you know, this urchin head is like... obsessed with you.”
megumi begins coughing violently at your side, which you ignore. rather, you were too busy getting into character and playing along. you bat your eyelashes while holding your cheeks, in total pretend fangirl mode.
“gumi?? he already treats me to whatever i want, is my personal chauffeur, and texts me every single day. don’t tell me i’m his phone wallpaper!” you dramatically gush.
she smiles in a way that makes you question if this really was a bit or not. “you are.”
well, if it was a joke, she was great at it. if not, well, regardless, you liked her. period.
“maki-senpai, please. if you keep harassing me like this, i’m going to tell your manager.” megumi deadpans, ready to be rid of this situation.
maki rolls her eyes and waves him off. “feel free to. toge, customer wants to talk to you!” she shouts, walking away to the back. though before she fully walks away, she glances over her shoulder and sends you a wink. “i’m serious, by the way. check it. it was nice meeting you!”
as soon as she disappears through the door, you turn to megumi and squeal excitedly. “omg, i’m obsessed with her. how did you find such a cool girl for me to be friends with?"
he drags a hand down his face, as if trying to calm down from that stressful situation. “it’s because we’re in the same friend group… ah, inumaki-senpai.”
at this rate, you were convinced that everyone megumi befriended was an upperclassman, which wouldn’t be a total surprise.
a man with platinum blonde hair and violet eyes walks out from the back. in addition to his cafe uniform, a blue scarf wrapped around his neck, circling all the way up to cover his mouth.
a scarf at the beginning of spring? it wasn’t that chilly here, but he might’ve just ran more cold, you thought.
he waves silently to you both and pulls out a notebook tucked away from behind the counter, jotting down some words before turning it around for you to read.
“i’m the manager,” it reads, paired with a drawn laughing face.
“ha. ha.” megumi says flatly, unamused by the whole ‘i want to see your manager’ joke. he turns to you, seeing the confused look on your face, and, after clearing his throat, gestures to his friend. “this is inumaki toge. he’s the same year as maki-senpai, and he’s mute. inumaki-senpai, this is my friend y/n.”
without missing a beat, you begin moving your hands and fingers, a soft smile on your face as you sign to the barista. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m glad megumi has friends. i hope he hasn’t been causing too much trouble while i’ve been gone.”
his amethyst eyes widens a bit in shock before he seemingly grins underneath his scarf, eyes crinkling and revealing smile lines, and begins signing back to you. “only the most trouble in the world. you know sign language?”
“just a little. i’m a bit out of practice, but it’s still something. don’t be afraid to let me know if i sign something weird or wrong,” you sign.
“when did you learn sign language?” megumi asks, breaking the momentary silence that occured while you two were signing back and forth with each other.
you turn to him with an incredulous look. here was your best friend, still learning new things about you, even at the ripe age of eighteen and nineteen.
“back in high school, did you forget? that’s why we weren’t in the same foreign language class. you wanted spanish and i wanted sign language!”
“oh yeah…” he seemingly recalls.
inumaki taps on his notebook with his pen, getting both of your attentions. “anyways, what do you guys want to order?”
“two iced americanos.” megumi says without skipping a beat, and you grin up at him.
“you always know what I want.” you hum happily, watching him hand over his card to pay. it was your go-to order. sure, it was such a simple order to even forget, especially when it was also his preferred drink, but the remembered small details warmed your heart all the same. honestly, though, at this point, you'd probably cause a scene if he ever forgot something about you that should be instinctual.
the white haired man was back to writing in his notebook and you turn to puff out your cheeks at your bestie. “you know, you should learn sign language for inumaki-san. it’d be a lot easier for him.”
he purses his lips together. he knows you have a point.
“i’ve picked up some words here and there, but it’s hard…" he trails off before clearing his throat slightly, tossing a side glance at you. "maybe you should teach me.”
you jokingly salute him. “call.” turning to his friend, you smile and sign while saying out loud, “don’t worry, inumaki-san. when i’m done with him, you won’t need that notebook anymore.”
appreciation was evident on his face as he smiles and lift up his notebook. “everyone’s outside on the patio, by the way, including the officers. you should go say hi. i’ll bring out your drinks.”
officers? you look up at megumi and tilt your head slightly to one side in confusion. “you joined a club?”
you watch inumaki’s expression change into a confused one. he gives a look to megumi, as if trying to say, you didn’t tell her?
you're poking him in the shoulder mercilessly. “you joined a club?” answer me, already, your jabs say.
“kinda… anyways, i really should say hi. it’ll be super quick.”
“quick? aren’t these your friends? we can sit and chat for a bit.”
“better not… actually,” he stops abruptly at the door and you run face first into his shoulder with a quiet oof. “you should stay in here. no, that’d be worse…” he was battling an internal struggle, and it only made your curiosity even worse.
“okay, that’s it. we’re definitely going out there together.” taking the lead, you move around him and make your way outside.
he was walking beside you, but you could feel his entire body tensing at what would come. you round the corner out onto the cafe patio and see a group of boys sitting leisurely and laughing with each other. it must’ve been them, since there was no one else out here. as if to confirm your deduction, a tuff of pink hair pokes out from above the rest and lock onto you both, standing abruptly.
“fushiguro!”
a pause.
“who’s that girl!?” the man proceeds to shout, immediately prompting the rest of the heads at the table to turn and stare at you.
ooooh. okayyyyy, now this was awkward.
you try to put on a smile, but it's probably coming off as a bit scared and confused. no, stop that. you try to reset your smile. nope. still uncomfortable at all the stares.
once you're at an acceptable distance, megumi begins his well-practiced introduction. “hey, guys. this is my friend, y/n. y/nn, the loud idiot is itadori yuji.”
he give a large wave despite the two of you now just being a few feet from each other. “oh, you’re y/nn!” you choke at the sudden familiarity. he was using your nickname, your given name nickname. this boy was absolutely a mess. “we’ve kinda met a few times whenever you and fushiguro would facetime.”
a lightbulb goes off in your head and you nod slowly. “oh, right! you’re the loud dude always shouting before gumi hangs up on me. i thought your pink hair looked familiar. it looks kinda different when it’s not a blur,” you giggle. itadori was another friend in megumi's roster. but for some reason, he never allowed the two of you to talk to each other in facetime or in a regular call, always deciding to hang up abruptly.
suddenly remembering all the eyes that were still on you, your demeanor quickly shift to something a bit more shy as you greet the rest of the table with a wave of your hand. “umm… hi!”
megumi scoots closer to you and presses into your side, pointing out a man in all black sweats and a beanie, brown locks escaping the hold. “this is takuma ino.”
he gives a friendly smile. “hi!”
you smile back as megumi moves on in the introduction train. “haibara yu.”
“hello!” a man with short dark hair and an undeniable cheerfulness to him, rivaling itadori’s, smiles brightly and you return it.
your childhood friend pauses as that’s the entire table. “wait, inumaki-senpai said that the officers were here. where are they?”
“they’re on their way,” takuma says, pulling out his phone to double-check his messages or the location of said officers.
you take the opportunity to scoot closer to them. “so… what kind of club is this? gumi’s keeping secrets.”
the entire group seems to freeze. whether it's because of your question or the nickname you've given megumi, it's lost on you. itadori and haibara laugh while takuma raises his eyebrow. "you didn't tell your girlfriend?" not the reaction you were expecting.
“childhood best friend.” the two of you curtly correct at the same time. you guys should do stand-up together.
megumi reluctantly turns to you while you set your hands on your hips, waiting, ready to laugh your ass off on whatever club he’s decided to join to live out his college youth, if necessary.
“don’t laugh.”
not promised.
“i joined a frat.”
...
your jaw drops. your brain malfunctions. your eyes widen.
"excuse me!?" your voice pitch up a few octaves at the surprise.
"yeah, we're psi epsilon kappa!" haibara pipes up, proudly puffing out his chest like you're supposed to know what those greek letters stood for or the reputation of the fraternity, despite you just arriving to campus for quite literally the first time ever.
itadori makes his way over and slings his arm over megumi. "he joined because i forced him to!"
don’t say it like you’re proud of that, you facepalm internally. you turn to your best friend.
“gumi, you-”
“i know.”
“oh my god-”
“i know.”
“i have to tell your mom.”
“she already knows.”
you stammer in a bout of slight anger and shock. “y-you told her!? you haven’t even told me! when did this even happen!?”
when the ebony haired man clams up, you whirl around to the other boys. your fierce pink gaze sweeps over them.
“we officially joined last month, but we spent the entire semester pledging.” takuma easily says, clearly thrilled to get his p-bro torn a new one.
“a whole month! a whole semester! fushiguro megumi, you’re dead!” you shout at the top of your lungs, grabbing his shirt and trying your best to threaten him, stretching yourself as high as you possibly could on your tiptoes.
“ah, toge-senpai.” haibara greets as the barista sat down the two iced americanos megumi had ordered earlier.
you were busy trying to suffocate your friend, but you glance over at him with a deadly expression that asked, did you know about this, too?? he looks completely caught off-guard, confused about the situation he had stumbled upon, and reduced to simply putting his hands up as a sign of peace and backing away slowly in almost comedic fashion.
you turn your attention back to your friend. “grit your teeth.” you huff.
“wha-”
without warning, you head butt upwards with a dull thud. the group seems to recoil at the action and sound. you wish you could say it didn't hurt and justice has never tasted so sweet, but you both were hissing in pain immediately afterwards. you let go of him and held your head while he held his jaw and lips.
“baka y/nn!” he hisses, scowling at you.
you soothingly rub your head while glaring at him. “you traitor!”
“here’s our beloved president and vice president,” takuma inserts, just as two figures tower over you, their shadows consuming.
still rubbing your forehead, you turn to see just a casual shirt. all shirt. only shirt. your gaze travels upwards to meet with dazzling light blue eyes, snow white locks brushed over a pale forehead. time seems to freeze. he was devastatingly gorgeous with eyes that seem to glow even behind circular sunglasses, impossible unless blessed by the heavens. you felt yourself drowning in them. he stood so tall, and you had thought that it was impossible for anyone to be taller than megumi. the man wore a grin, showing off perfectly white teeth. he was, on all acounts, on every scale, in every universe, smoking hot.
a phone enters your view and the trance is shattered. you hear the fake shutter of a camera, evidence that he was taking a photo. your nose scrunches up in distaste.
“i’ve never seen anyone head butt megumi-kun. much less, i’ve never seen him interact with a girl. we’re definitely putting this on the wall in the house.” the white haired man cackles.
"gojo-senpai.” megumi deadpans with a scowl. “don’t you dare,” he adds on, as if not trusting the upperclassman to make a joke. rather, he’d follow through on his words, like a promise.
the aforementioned gojo dangles his phone high above your heads childishly, precariously sandwiched between his thumb and index finger, grinning and chuckling. “that wouldn’t be very nice of you to go against the wishes of your dear beloved president.”
your eyes slightly widen. president of megumi’s frat.
he's then promptly ribbed by presumably the vice president. “satoru, stop it.” a low, honeyed voice grabs your attention. you assess his appearance, long dark hair pulled back into a half-up man bun, revealing ears trailed by a wake of silver piercings all along the edges until they ended with large black gauges. his eyes dark, mysterious, assessing, piercing, the complete opposite to gojo. he was noticeably slimmer than his counterpart, perhaps an illusion caused by the baggy clothing he wore, but he rose to the same height. he was absolutely attractive that you almost hiccuped on sight. your type.
gojo laughs, rubbing his side while nontheless tucking away his newly acquired treasure safely into his pocket to do god knows what. “i'm just playing around, suguru. i wouldn’t blow this up and hang it up in the house or post it to our account page… i’m just gonna send it to the group chat.”
deciding that his teasing was now done, his blue oceanic eyes shifts to you and your breath hitches slightly. amusement overtakes his face and he leans forward a bit, a hand slightly tilting his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, as if to get a better look at you. “who’s this cutie?”
megumi cuts into your view as he casually positions himself between you and his upperclassmen. “she’s my childhood best friend.”
“hey, i thought i was your best friend!” itadori whines in the background.
“didn’t he say just friend earlier?” takuma whispers to haibara, though loud enough for everyone to hear.
despite megumi’s attempt to hide you, gojo nonchalantly set a hand onto the umber haired man’s shoulder and slightly nudges him aside with ease.
the vice president rubs his chin in thought, taking in the scene in front of him. “ah.” like he came to a conclusion, he nods and smiles in a way that no one understands.
“so, does princess have a name?” the white haired man props his arm on megumi’s head, squishing him down in the process to lock eyes with you. you slightly bristle at the action.
“y/n,” you say before pausing and suddenly finding a spurt of courage. no one uses megumi like a human arm rest except for you. casually, you lean forward and prop up your arms on said human armrest’s shoulders to hold your head up in your hands, looking upwards at gojo with a smirk on your face, placing you just a few inches away from gojo's face. “nice to meet you.” you huff pridefully.
seeing the challenge in your eyes, his smile seem to impossibly widen. “megumi, you should bring y/nn-chan around. she’s way more fun than you.”
megumi then finally pushes the both of you off of him, straightening his back and slightly readjusting his hair from the onslaught. “no.”
no?
you realize that the thought slipped out as his dark green gaze meet yours. it was a first. no matter what you both did, you always did it together. every movie you saw, every party you attended, even relatives’ weddings, outings, dinners, the two of you always invited each other regardless of the club, regardless of the friend group, regardless of the family. it was a first.
forest depths brush against sugary florals. “no.”
your heart must’ve cracked, the feeling of the distance between you two must’ve crawled onto your face, because your best friend sighs at the sight of your expression and opens his mouth. “eri-”
“a bit over protective over just your childhood best friend, don’t you think?” gojo hums in amusement.
megumi seems to shut up just fine after that, thinking against the words he picked in his mind.
the man standing next to gojo offers a small smile. “you’re welcome to come by the house or our events anytime, kouki-san.”
“yeah! geto-senpai’s right. i’m going to be the bouncer at our party this friday. i’ll make sure you get in just fine!” itadori grins with two thumbs up.
a strange look is shared between haibara and takuma. you brush it off, considering the officers weren’t saying anything to rebute itadori's authority in deciding who got to enter and who didn't. wait, a party?
“this friday?”
haibara nods. “yeah, psi epsilon kappa always has a back to school party the first week of school.”
you warily look at megumi. how long was he planning on hiding this from you? the two of you were now living together. did he really think he could finish all of college without you finding out? the two of you have spent countless friday nights watching movies or going out. there was no way megumi could've snuck past you. “and you were just going to sneak out by…?”
“lover’s spat?” gojo was enjoying the show unfolding in front of him.
you turn to give him a deadpan look. “we’re also roommates.”
“roommates?” an eyebrow quirks up.
at that, the other man, geto, nudges him in the ribs. “oi, don’t.” as if he knew what was turning in gojo’s mind.
“hey, let’s get started already! there’s a game i don’t want to miss this afternoon.” takuma shouts, leaning back in his chair and balancing it precariously.
“right, right,” gojo sighs while moving past you to sit down with the others.
you look up at megumi, momentarily forgetting your bitterness as his back to back to back betrayal, “oh, do you need to stay?”
geto interjects. “no need. he already told us about his plans today. we’re just discussing the party and other future events. he’ll be brought up to speed.”
“yeah, thanks, geto-senpai.” with that, megumi takes the two cups that inumaki put down earlier and hands one to you which you graciously took a sip, simmering in all your feelings. “aight, let’s go.” he sweeps an arm behind you, waist-level, though he keeps it a few inches from touching you, something that you don't think about twice.
you look over my shoulder as your best friend corales you away. “bye!” you shout. “it was nice meeting all of you!”
all the boys were either smiling politely or grinning.
“bye, y/nn-chan!” ugh, that boy itadori had better learn some boundaries.
“bye, y/nn-chan!” gojo pipes up as well, not making things any better. “see you friday night!”
the rest of the day and night was spent interrogating megumi. you had demanded that he told you every bit of detail that you had missed out on in the first semester of school, and he proceeded to fill you in with a superficial sweep of generals. yeah, there were pledge events and parties. pledges were required to bring a date, but he firmly disobeyed that idea. apparently, itadori was such a hotly contested pledge the fraternity didn’t want to lose that his threat of leaving if megumi left was enough for them to overlook megumi’s rule breaking. what’s more, apparently gojo found megumi amusng enough to keep him around.
when it came to asking why he didn’t want to bring you around to his events, he simply asked, well, are you my girlfriend? to which, he had a good point. it would send the wrong message.
however, the entire interrogation was thrown out the window as you started crying unabashedly on how it was completely out of character for him and that the fraternity was going to drive you two apart. andnd how he was possibly ashamed of you to even have around his new friends. to which he reluctantly gave in… with the caveat that you didn’t leave his side. but you could tell he still wasn’t pleased with the outcome. neither were you. after all, it still felt like you had missed out completely on a crucial part of megumi, like you lost a whole semester's worth of him, even though you two talked every single day.
you guessed, in his eyes, you were his percious childhood best friend and fraternities were just filled with predatory men. but in that case, why did he join a fraternity in the first place? as if he could keep you away from a part of his life. in the end, you simply accepted that itadori had that peer pressure effect on him. you couldn’t always hog all of megumi’s friendship slots, could you?
at any rate, you ended the night with a movie of your choosing to put an end to making amends and pushing the entire situation past you. you had more important things to face now - the first day of school.
your painting class' room was large and arranged in a circle of easles and stools. you take a seat in the back close to the windows. it was just preferences, not for the plot whatsoever. as others trail in, there was a loud slump at the station next to yours. you turn out of instinct to see a man with slicked back pink hair scooting his chair all the way back so that he could lean against the wall. his duffel was tossed haphazardly at his feet without a care. he pulls out his phone immediately and begins tapping away or mindlessly scrolling on whatever social media app. but the most notable thing about him were the tattoos that covered his arms and crawled up his neck. you can't help but stare, a part of you growing the tiniest bit attracted at the sight. it was one of the unfortunate stereotypes about art majors. tattoos were hot. the more and bigger, the hotter. bonus points for originality and meaning.
as if he could feel your stare, he leans his head back and tilts it at an angle to look at you. caught red-handed, you immediately whip your attention elsewhere, like at the other classmates still trickling in. that was totally normal, right? right.
he seems to chuff at this in amusement and turns his attention back to his phone.
“hey, sukuna,” a man with dark hair pulled up into two ponytails moves past you and dabs up the hot tattoo man.
“choso.” he simply says as dubbed choso then pulls up to the station on the other side of his friend.
“so as i was saying in the texts, we crashing psi epsilon’s party or what?”
your ears perk up at that. wasn't that megumi’s frat?
“yeah,” who you assumed to be sukuna grunts as a simple reply. “last year, gojo sicced his pledges on me to play some pranks. i need to make sure he knows that i ain’t having it this year. shit’s getting annoying. if it happens again, i'mma sock ‘em.”
you make a mental note that if megumi’s subjected to such a task from his president, to not.
the pair goes silent and you can hear a bit of shuffling, as if they’re exchanging words silently.
“hey.” the man with the ponytails call.
you don't even consider peeling your eyes away from observing the rest of the room until you hear a whistle. you look over to see choso(?) smiling at you. you point at yourself a little dumbly. “me?” was he calling for you?
he nods, a sly smile on his face. you didn’t like that. “hey, i’m choso.” he slightly stands to stretch a hand across his friend and towards you.
what was it with people not introducing their surnames? “y/n.” you simply say, also getting up to grasp his hand. his palms and fingers were calloused, making you wonder if he was on any of the sports teams to earn those. as you both sat back down, he jerks his head at his friend.
“this is sukuna ryomen.”
“hi…” you say a bit hesitantly. sukuna wasn’t looking at either of you, his gaze stuck on his phone as he boredly scrolls on with whatever he was doing.
“i like your tattoos,” you add, unsure of how to continue this conversation or why it started in the first place.
this is when you get his attention. an eyebrow lifts as he considers you, a smile then growing on his face. but for some reason, it just looks absolutely evil. “thanks. got any yourself?”
you shake your head, slightly relieved and glad that he was replying, rather than just ignoring you into oblivion and embarrassment.
“shame.” he sniffs. his gaze seems to trace each and every part of your exposed skin, as if imagining what it’d look like if you were inked up. you try not to shuffle your thighs at that, feeling heat creep up on your skin at the blatant assessment.
“we haven’t seen you around before. transfer?” choso continues to ask.
“no. i’m a first year. but i missed out last semester for a study abroad program.”
choso nods. “ah, the one in europe right? for art majors? that means you’re a junior by art credits.” he says this to understand how a first year like you ended up in an advanced class with them. “anyways, if there’s anything you’re unsure about whether with campus or art, let us know. we’re still your upperclassmen, after all.”
you smile at that. they were being quite nice, or at least choso was. “thank you!”
the professor finally arrives in class and begins with the dreaded tedious syllabus day. it went by in a blur with mostly going over expectations, supplies, projects to be completed throughout the semester, things like that. when it was finally time to leave, you seem to all stand at the same time.
“hope to see you around some more, kouki-san.” choso says with a wave before walking off to his next class.
sukuna slings his duffel over his shoulder lazily and pauses to stare at you for a moment. you freeze like a deer in headlights, wondering if there was something weird about the way you looked or if you had said anything weird or offending earlier. “umm.”
he smirks at you and you feel yourself bristle at the look. “see ya, sunshine.”
weirdo.
after class, you take a moment to stop by the restrooms to make sure there wasn’t anything on your face or anything wrong with your outfit. there wasn’t. so why was sukuna staring at you so much at the end? you try not to think too much about it as you left to cross campus and wait for megumi for your english class. you tap away on your phone to send him a text on where you were waiting for him.
“y/nn-chan!” you knew that voice.
you look up to see that chaotic pink head jog up to you, leaving behind a girl with brown hair that reached her neck.
“oh, hi, itadori-san.” you greet politely.
he chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. you take a moment to consider that he looks like just a puppy. “no need to be so formal! since you’re fushiguro’s best friend and i’m fushiguro’s best friend, that means we’re best friends!”
what logic. you couldn't help but laugh at that. “fine. then… yuji-kun.” he seems to be happy with that. definitely puppy vibes.
the girl finally makes her to you and yuji gestures to her. “ah, this is kugisaki.”
“nobara.” she finishes, looking at you from head to toe. the other girl on megumi's roster. that made all two.
this campus seriously had a problem with judgmental people, you thought in your head.
“hi, i’m y/n.” you say, trying to keep things friendly and hoping you're coming off as likable in front of megumi's friends.
but her expression morphs into something horrifying and you startle at that. you could’ve sworn everything you said and did was normal. “you’re absolutely beautiful.” she says exasperately. “why are you friends with this doofus?”
“oh, thank you!” you're relieved, but then you become concerned. “oh, umm, my best friend is friends with him… which i guess... makes us friends? ooh, you’re right…” now you're genuinely concerned, given yuji’s actions so far. he was a puppy. a very loud one that cooerced megumi into a frat. with absolute no tact or manners. and you just upgraded him to a first name basis. this was indeed troubling. “my poor megumi…” your internal thoughts slip out and now you were horrified at how yuji might influence your life long friend.
yuji seems to see the gears turning in your head, because now he’s protesting profusely to defend his honor and your swift lived friendship. “no! y/nn-chan, i’m a good friend! i’m a good apple! i- i know, megumi can vouch for me!”
“megumi barely mentioned you for an entire semester,” you deadpan which made yuji sink to his knees in defeat.
kugisaki laughs at this which you join in with a giggle. “i’m just kidding, yuji-kun, we’re gonna be great friends.” you extend a hand out and he looks up at you with watery puppy eyes, sniffs, and meekly takes your hand, allowing you to pull him up.
“what did i just witness?” megumi’s voice.
you all turn to see him approaching the group.
“ummm, we’re practicing for our comedy show this weekend, obviously.” you grin.
he rolls his eyes and ruffles your head before clasping hands with yuji briefly. he gives a curt nod to kugisaki in greeting.
“all right, let’s go.” he says, walking on ahead.
you blink once. “wait, we’re all in the same class?”
kugisaki and yuji simultaneously grin.
oh, this was going to be a fun semester. leave it to megumi to plan everything.
even better, you all found four desks grouped together in the back of the class. you and kugisaki spent the entire period passing notes to each other, getting to know one another and just for the heck of it. you were giggling like highschool girls and all the boys could do was either look on enviously or roll their eyes. guess who did what.
afterwards english was a general higher level class. you blink once, twice, at the impossible encounter in front of you.
“oh, y/nn-chan!” that mess of white hair, those circle sunglasses, that lanky arm waving obnoxiously around. "sit with us!”
you look around to wonder if you were dreaming and how you managed to get into the same physics class as megumi’s fraternity president and vice president.
“satoru, if you scare off fushiguro’s friend, we might lose two littles.” geto scolded in a calm manner.
“ehh?” he seemed quite troubled, clearly still wanting to beckon you over but not wanting to lose his precious members that he fought so hard to keep.
you sigh and make your way over, just happy that they were already sitting in the back of the room. secretly, you enjoyed that you'd have buddies in yet another class. what's even better, they were two hotties. nonetheless, you didn't want to inflate the annoying one's ego, so you opt for the pretending to be annoyed route. besides, you needed time in debating if megumi's frat bros were off limits or not. well, you also had to consider if they were interested in the first place for you to even consider being interested aside from physical crushes. it was the first day of school. why complicage things? “then, if you don’t mind…” you take a seat next to geto and gojo made a displeased noise. geto was more your type, anyways.
because of how close the seats were in the lecture hall, you couldn’t help bushing your leg against his pants.
“ah, sorry,” you try to veer your legs in the other direction, but it was futile.
geto smiles softly at you, enough to make your heart skip a beat. “don’t worry about it.” he waves it off like it wasn't a big deal. and it really wasn’t. you guys weren't in elementary school. cooties aren't a thing. so you stop trying to shift your legs away and just let your legs feel the side of his pants.
“how’s your first week of school?” he asks, in true upperclassman manner.
“good! oh, which reminds me…”
“hmm?”
“umm, when I was in my painting class, there were these two guys. sukuna-san and choso-san? they were talking about crashing your party, because sukuna-san’s tired of gojo-san always sending the new members to prank him.”
geto sighs at that and nods before leaning back in his chair so you could get a better view of gojo. “well, there you have it.”
“eh?? it’s not my fault sukuna can’t take a joke. it’s harmless fun, too. we just tp'd his car and ketchup'd his doormat. it’s all good nature fun.” gojo complains, waving it off.
geto makes a face. “it’s all fun and games until sukuna decides to talk with his fists.”
you wrinkle your nose. “oh… anger issues?” he seemed like the type.
the umber haired man simply nods.
gojo then leans right over geto's body, invading his space to get closer to you. “speaking of. so the party on friday, are you coming?”
you nod. “megumi’s taking me."
“good,” he grins. “because we’re going to make megumi play all sorts of games and drink all sorts of drinks, and you might not wanna miss it.”
you can't help but laugh. “looks like i’m the responsible one for that night.”
“well, you gotta have fun with us, too, princess.”
you almost miss the nickname he bestowed upon you.
“please don’t feel pressured, kouki-san. satoru here is an idiot.”
you glance up at geto, now quite curious. “geto-san, you’re so well-mannered and seem so much more responsible and mature… what are you like at these parties? an upper? a downer?”
a lanky arm slings around geto’s neck and a white haired man's face is once again in your view. “wait till you see suguru friday night. you’d be surprised. he’s a reaaaaaal manwhor-”
“satoru, language. she’s a first year.” geto deadpans, shoving a hand immediately in his friend's face to prevent any more words from spilling out, but you had already caught the gist of it and your cheeks are now burning. geto? a manwhore? you glance up at him almost shyly now, unable to imagine such a thing.
“yeah, he just picks a girl for the night and monopolizes her time and takes her up to his ro-”
this time, geto shoves gojo more properly to the point where he falls out of his seat. he sighs and runs a hand through his hair before looking at you apologetically, though clearly not embarrassed nor cringing, which was curious. “sorry you had to hear that, kouki-san. please ignore him.”
you hurriedly shake your head and wave your hands. “oh no, don’t worry! i’ll just pretend i didn’t hear anything!”
geto seems to look relieved at that.
class starts and you all turn your attentions to the professor. in between daydreaming about sitting next to your dream crush, gojo keeps on folding all sorts of scratch paper and sending them your way. after the first few, you quickly realize that they're all attempts to get to know you and your bestie. what's your favorite color? favorite flowers? at what age did megumi stop peeing the bed? eventually, you began letting them pile up on your table, much to gojo's dismay. it wasn't until geto's sharp chop onto his friend's head that he finally stopped bothering you, earning a giggle from you. geto was like your mini knight in shining armor whilst gojo was like the friend you never asked for, catapaulted into your life at a thousand miles per hour. you can't help but think that it's only because you're megumi's childhood best friend. without the title, what were the chances of gojo being this interested in you?
class ended with gojo abruptly standing and shoving his phone in your face, demanding your number and not budging until you did so. though outwardly annoyed, you were happy on the inside, knowing you made somewhat of a friend despite it being megumi's frat president. but it didn't help the disappointment edged in when geto rolled his eyes and dragged his counterpart away after he successfully secured your number, bidding you a quick bye.
nonetheless, your first day at jujutsu university concluded. classes, while a bit daunting, seemed manageable. and you were already looking forward to friday's party.
university anthem ⸻ college is for hooking up, amirite?
synopsis: you have been best friends with megumi since you were kids. always joined by the hip, you're now starting college together. megumi thinks it's going to be the same as always. you, on the other hand, want to explore what's in so-and-so's pants true university life. first mistake, megumi joins a frat. second mistake, megumi takes you to a party. lots of hooking up ensues / pairings: fem!reader x childhoodbestfriend!megumi, fem!reader x fwb!satoru, fem!reader x fwb!suguru, fem!reader x fwb!sukuna / content: x
bear notes: pls be gentle with me, i only write in ocs
