#606:JJK

[sixosix]

( ! ) profanity bc it's a sixosix fic ofc.... inumaki whipped, fluff, wc 443

“why is it so fucking cold in here?”

outside, in the middle of a deserted town, the second years walk in circles in hopes of getting heat in their system to regenerate function back in their limbs. it doesn’t work. they continue walking, though stiffly—maki has resorted to jogging, but the temperature has her moving like a rusted doll.

inumaki nods along with maki’s complaints, burying his chin further into his scarf.

“you okay, toge? if i need to, i can cuddle you two to warmth!” panda says, slinging an arm over maki and inumaki’s shoulders.

“your fur’s cold!” maki shrieks at the same time inumaki hisses, “bonito flakes!”

then, the three of them pause their circles at the sound of footsteps and rowdy bickering. their first years come rolling in, shivering uncontrollably; even megumi, despite the blank expression he’s desperately trying to hold.

“you already have two layers; what are you whining at me for?” nobara snaps, shoving a weeping yuuji’s face off her space. megumi, right in the middle, leans back to avoid it.

yuuji perks up at the sight of panda, and, without a word, runs to tackle him. panda accepts him with ease. if maki and inumaki aren’t grateful, panda can always count on yuuji. if yuuji realized that panda’s fur felt like icicles right after, he doesn’t comment on it.

“it’s freezing,” you lament, followed by a full-body shudder. “why didn’t gojo-sensei warn us about this? i can barely feel my fingers.”

inumaki instantly perks up at the sound of your voice. without hesitation, he walks off and takes his jacket off in lieu of wrapping it over your shoulders.

“oh, thank you!” you beam at him, and inumaki’s face burns as if the temperature rose exponentially. “but aren’t you cold, toge-senpai?”

he shakes his head, fixing the sleeves of his jacket into your arms, then takes off his scarf to wrap it around you, too. inumaki takes a step back to check his work and nods proudly to himself. you continue smiling throughout inumaki’s obvious claim, oblivious.

he tilts his head. “mustard leaf?”

“oh, no, i’m good now. thank you.” as if to prove it, you exhale deeply and bury your face further into his scarf.

inumaki looks like he’s sunburnt.

“aren’t you cold?” you ask.

“fish flakes,” inumaki says. not anymore, everyone hears instead.

“is it just me, or has it become warmer all of a sudden…?” yuuji comments, half of his face buried in panda’s arm. his face is turning blue.

“gross,” nobara scoffs, as if she didn’t also hold her breath throughout the entire interaction either. “no, it’s not. can we ditch gojo-sensei? i’m ditching gojo-sensei.”

[sixosix]

a/n this fic is written for art @aanobrain hope u enjoy it art!!!! even tho i swear its ooc T__T </333

warnings 1k words, suggestive, gojo appears, reader is a mess

aka, nanami cooking with sleeves rolled up fic.

you were almost convinced you were dreaming.

the sweet smell of good cooking has you salivating and springing upright from the bed without a second to waste. but that’s not right, because if you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket and not in the kitchen, who’s…?

you squint, belatedly perceiving that this is not your bed, and you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

and this is definitely not your door, or your living room, or your kitchen. you don’t even have a roommate; the man slicing radish with precise speed would also definitely not be yours, even though you now wish that was the case.

the creak of the floorboard has him pausing slightly, glancing at you. your gaze gets caught on his high cheekbones, then his sharp stare.

“good morning. i’m—y/n,” you blurt. maybe you could’ve started with, who are you and why am i not in my home?

“nanami,” he says, still staring as you fidget on your spot. much to your relief, he shifts his focus back to the cutting board when you shift uncomfortably.

“there’s miso soup on the table. it’s gotten cold,” nanami says without looking up from his work. “you wake up late.”

“i’m sorry…?”

as he’s mentioned, there’s a bowl on two sides of two chairs.

cautiously, as if nanami would scold you for the slightest wrong movement, you settle in one seat. the chair is cold and uncomfortable; you’re sure your mother has the same table set back home, yet this one looks like it was never touched when bought. never used.

“thank you for the food,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. your voice is drowned out by the knife hitting the cutting board.

the aroma from the miso soup is fresh and stronger than what you’re used to cooking up, but that was because you sometimes forget to turn off the heat before it boils. at first glance, you wouldn’t have assumed nanami would be talented in cooking. you’d think, with his figure, he’s out there posing for magazines and getting hand-fed by maids. but you suppose you were judging from the cover, because nanami has managed to perfect even the tiny details of scent and spice.

your eyes follow as nanami finishes chopping radish, his sleeves loose around his wrist. the way he moves around the kitchen—sliding to the sink, focused solely on what’s in front of him, giving you a proper view of his broad back—makes it look like he’s barely lifting a finger.

“this is good,” you whisper, wanting to get it off your chest without bothering nanami. but he still hears it, acknowledging it with a glance.

you take a sip, humming appreciatively at the taste, and then inhale on the wrong pipe when nanami rolls his sleeves up with his freshly washed hands. they’ve gone a shade darker from the water, which doesn’t help at all—not when it seeps and sticks against his forearms.

you’re coughing uncontrollably. he looks mildly concerned.

“i’m fine, i’m fine!” your face is burning, and you’re unmistakably not fine.

he gives you a glass of water, all while you pointedly stare at your miso soup. the ripples from your choking and slamming on the table feel like they’re poking fun at you.

not long after, nanami comes to the table with a plate of perfectly sliced rolled omelettes. you’ve already finished your miso soup, and you feel guilty that his has gone cold while cooking, but you don’t feel as bad when you take a bite of the food he’s prepared.

you groan reverently. “this is what you eat every morning?” you’re so, so unbelievably jealous.

“no,” nanami says, settling on the seat across yours. the domesticity nearly has you shaking. “i usually pick up breakfast on the way to work.”

but he stayed in to cook for you. you swoon internally.

“mayo,” he says, sliding his plate over to you. his forearms are still on display, and they’re very legit.

“did you assume i wouldn’t have slipped out?” you muse. “bold assumption. i don’t usually stick around long.”

“you were in no condition to ‘slip out’ even if you wanted to,” nanami says simply, eyes flicking up to yours. “and you must be getting the wrong idea. nothing happened.”

“what.”

“i slept on the couch.” there’s a ghost of a smile on his face—it must be from your befuddled expression. “last night, you went up to me. you told me you weren’t drunk, and then you passed out on me. you had no one else with you, so i figured i'd let you rest.”

“ah… ha. did you now?” you feel profoundly unsexy at the moment, especially on behalf of the night before.

“you were persuasive.”

you straighten, sticking your nose out to regain a bit of pride. “i prefer charming.”

“insistent,” nanami corrects, yet he gives you the last roll of omelette.

“thanks for taking care of me,” you say, bowing repeatedly, hoping that’d convey at least half of what you’re feeling. “and for not being creepy.”

“you don’t have to thank me for that,” nanami says dryly.

“oh ho, nanamin!” a new voice enters the conversation. nanami’s jaw ticks. “nanamin, nanamin, you rascal!” how did he get here without either of you noticing?

“gojo-san.” the man with a blindfold and white hair sticking out in all high angles grins wolfishly. “i wasn’t warned you’d be coming over.” nanami faces you, almost apologetically, “excuse me, gojo-san is just here to get something. run, if you need to.”

“sorry?”

“you’re so funny, nanamin. it’s good to catch you off guard, especially for moments like this,” gojo calls out as nanami walks back inside, not bothering to entertain him with a response. gojo then sizes you up. “who’re you?”

“me?” you briefly forgot that you’re still in the same hallway as them. “oh, i’m no one. no one you should worry about. who are you?”

gojo grins. “definitely not nanamin’s one-night stand.”

“i’m not even!” you exclaim, face hot. the guy narrows his eyes suspiciously, checking your face in various angles. and then your disappointingly empty neck. “i swear, i’m not. no hickeys or anything, see? he took care of me when i was blackout drunk, apparently.”

“and he didn’t kick you out as soon as you woke up?”

“...no? would you do that?”

gojo nods, more so to himself. “i see. so it’s already deeper than a one-night stand.”

“what?”

“he wants a piece of whatever you’re baking.”

“...?”

“gojo-san, stop tormenting my guest,” nanami says flatly, tossing a paper bag onto gojo’s face. it doesn’t quite hit him, instead sliding off. “please leave. i don’t need you here.”

“oh-ho,” gojo says mischievously. “i was going to be nice and make sure you’re not lonely coming to work, but it seems there’s already someone doing that to you, huuhh?” nanami doesn’t reply, pointedly setting his heavy gaze on you instead. gojo pouts. “oh, fine. don’t forget protection!”

nanami glances to the side as gojo skips off. he pulls out his phone and presents it to you, his low voice reverberating in your ears in the silence of the halls. “put your number in my phone.”

“um, why?” you ask suspiciously, yet still do as you’re told. nanami seems like the last guy on earth to have malicious intentions anyway. and you do owe him for this. “are you feeding me again?”

“to make up for what could’ve happened that night.”

[sixosix]

could you please write a soft drabble where toge helps the reader sleep? (i mean sfw ofc <3) My babygirl needs more appreciation 😔 its okay if you cant i love your works thank you <3

( a/n ) !!! toge req!!! dropped everything to write this, wc 700

you’re not quite sure if you can cross this line.

you and toge have been closer these past few weeks, but does it warrant a free pass to his bedroom? probably not. definitely not. you wouldn’t march into nobara’s room without warning beforehand, and you’ve been friends with her for longer.

but maybe it’s different. maybe it’s because it’s toge and it’s why you aren’t as nervous as you’re supposed to be.

( or maybe it’s the lack of sleep catching up to you, blurring words together to the point where you can’t tell right from wrong. )

a moment of hesitation, then, knock knock.

“…toge?” you call out, pressing your forehead against his door. there are beats of silence before you hear the shuffling of feet and stumbling here and there.

and, finally, the door opens, with toge unused to the soft light, blinking slowly, eyes half-lidded.

“sorry,” you mumble, finding yourself entranced at the way strands of hair stick out from his head. “you were sleeping, i don’t know why i—”

a hand catches your wrist before you even think about turning away. “bonito flakes,” toge says, his voice sounding rougher than it usually is.

your neck prickles with heat. “it’s… nothing serious. i just… you know…”

he pulls you closer—in hopes of making you look at him, probably, but embarrassment creeps in, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him any longer.

toge whispers, as if sharing a secret, “tuna mayo.”

it should be a little funny that he’s trying to comfort you with rice ball ingredients, but all you can focus on is how your heart is pounding, his skin is warm against yours, and his voice—rarely there, rarely spoken—has never sounded sweeter.

you take a deep breath, staring at your intertwined hands. “i can’t sleep. i don’t know why, but i thought of going here.”

you feel toge shift. you look up, and he’s looking away. maybe it’s a trick of the soft moonlight, but his ears are a bit red.

toge gestures inside his room with his head, asking, “tuna?”

“you wouldn’t mind?”

“fish flakes.” he sounds almost offended that you even asked.

in the darkness, you two stumble into his room. toge kicks his door closed, still refusing to let go of your wrist, and you let him, realizing that you didn’t have to stand outside his room for five minutes overthinking.

he leads you to his bed. he sits there first, then shuffles to the other edge of it to pull you onto it.

you follow suit, and now you two are awkwardly pressed against each other, shoulder to shoulder. you’re stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself. toge makes a soft noise, and belatedly, you realize it’s a chuckle.

you can only hope he doesn’t feel your pulse when his fingers wrap around it.

two beats of hesitant silence later, you are lying in a much more comfortable position, your backs pressed against each other. you exhale, content; toge hums in agreement, shifting so his hand finds its way to lace itself around yours.

he seems to really like holding your hands.

perhaps knowing that someone is right there makes you feel more at ease than you were earlier in your own room. ( or, perhaps—and you didn’t want to think about this for too long—it’s because it’s toge. )

you don’t know how, but toge must’ve realized that you still aren’t sleeping and turns to the other side. he is a heavy breath away from mouthing your neck. don’t make it weird, you chant in your head, before you do the same; you’ll only make it weird if you think it is weird. don’t make it weird.

but looking at how the barely-there moonlight from his window reflects shadows and lights on his face, your breath hitches. you’re definitely making it weird.

“salmon,” toge whispers, shuffling closer.

you don’t know what he means by that this time, so you wordlessly pull closer in response.

toge smiles, pleased. you blink in confusion—disappointment—when he tugs his hand away from yours, only to find home in the back of your head.

you stare at him, wide awake, and toge is gazing back, eyes half-open. he’s looking at you like you’re something precious: fond and sweet. you’ve never felt more adored than when he has eyes on you.

his fingers start moving, carding through your hair. it feels nicer than you expected, and inumaki huffs a soft noise—a laugh again, you realize—when you nuzzle closer to him.

you have your eyes closed. toge inches closer. there’s warmth on your forehead; when toge pulls away, it disappears just as fast.

sleep comes easier this time. you wonder if there are other lines that toge is willing to cross with you.

i wrote this in an hour forgive me if it’s written weirdly LOL <33 rbs and comments fuel me

[sixosix]

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔: 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒

( ! ) a soulmate au where his six eyes act weird whenever around you. a 3+1 fic

( # ) gn!reader, fluff and angst, satoru is a dumbass, reader is Scared, bad things happen but it’s funny bc it’s only to satoru, profanity, not a happy ending, 1.2k words

you first meet him when he walks straight into a street sign, a painful clang following right after.

it’s nothing special as a first meeting. you two glance at each other at the same time a second before he quite literally smacks himself with the sign that’s as tall as him.

“oh my god—” you stumble to him, wide-eyed and panicked at the slowly growing red on his forehead. “how did you even—are you okay—”

the strange boy with the luminous white hair groans, tottering backwards as he clutches his head. you can faintly hear his ears still ringing. “ow…” he mumbles, blinking leisurely. “fuck, my eyes… how…”

it seems he still hasn’t noticed you.

your gaze trails to the street sign, that seems bent and hollow with the mark of his face. just how hard is this guy’s skull?

you look back at him, to find that he’s openly gaping at you.

“are… are you okay?” you ask again, albeit more awkwardly—you’re not sure what to feel about his staring.

he blinks, then shifts his gaze to his hand, clenching and unclenching it with a dumbfounded frown. only then in this angle, his shades are tipped downwards, giving you a front-row seat to his eyes—almost glowing despite the sun rivaling it.

“…what?” he whispers to himself, almost terrified.

oh no, does he have a concussion?

“hey,” you say, grabbing his attention again. but it seems like you’re the one panicking more than him. “hey, it’s okay! we’ll get you to a doctor, okay? um—where’s my phone.”

he blurts, “touch me.”

“pardon?”

“grab my hand!”

his outburst startles you into action, reflexively shooting out to wrap your hand around his arm. his uniform feels cold to touch, as if winter has blessed his face and everything about him.

“nothing happened,” you deadpan, pulling away. the chill radiating from him does little to cool your cheeks.

he pulls you back to him, marveling at you like he’s never seen a human hand before. “you’re right, nothing happened!”

this is too confusing for you.

“listen, man, you have a concussion, so please let go of my hand so i can call the emergency hotline,” you say, but he doesn’t even seem to hear you, still studying your hand with the same fervor as a mad scientist. specifically your pinky.

“i don’t have a concussion,” he snorts, looking back up at you. crescent-shaped eyes that twinkle brighter with his elation. “hey, what’s your name?”

what’s the harm in telling a pretty stranger your name? “…y/n.” as an afterthought of your dignity, you add: “why?”

he grins, finally releasing you. you exhale in relief, only to have it stuck in your throat when he moves his face so close to you that your noses touch, “i’ll see you around, y/n, okay?”

“wait, what are you—”

he disappears in a poof, leaving a flustered, bewildered you.

you meet him again the second time in the grocery store and he has a kid following him.

you gasp, almost dropping the basket of snacks you’ve been hogging for the past few minutes.

“it’s you!” the mystery man with the hauntingly beautiful eyes beams, as if he didn’t ditch you in the middle of the sidewalk with a dented street sign. “hi, y/n!”

you don’t know why you’re flattered he remembers your name.

“hi…” you trail off awkwardly, gaze switching to the young, dark-haired boy. “i… don’t remember you having a child…?”

he grins slyly—it shouldn’t look good. it shouldn’t. “you’re not into single fathers?”

you splutter, scrambling for a proper response that wouldn’t leave you a fool, but none come to mind. not when he’s looking at you like that.

the boy sniffs. “he’s not my dad.”

pretty man laughs, patting his head, who slaps his hand away. “megumi! you don’t wanna look like me? i’m hurt.” he coos, then you watch as he sneaks a pack of sweets into the cart while megumi’s too busy trying to swat his face away.

you feel a small smile threatening to split across your face at the scene. they don’t look too much alike, but they definitely seem family. “you never told me your name, you know.”

the man stands straight in surprise, “oh? i didn’t?” then he laughs again. you’re starting to like how it sounds. “where’s my manners—the name’s gojo satoru. nice to meet you!”

“nice to meet you, too, gojo-san,” you echo, your skin warming just at the sight of his eyes—even when you’re all too aware of how cold he is.

his eyes cut to your hand again, before smiling up at you. “i’ll see you around, y/n,” he sings, spinning around as megumi starts to wander off.

“i’ll see you around,” you agree, turning away to hide your flustered grin.

satoru yawns, rubbing his eyes over the blindfold. beside him, itadori skips, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the fireworks that burst in the night sky.

they’ve been sent here to look for a finger that’s mentioned to be lingering around near the stalls somewhere. satoru feels a little tired, his eyes acting up for no reason whatsoever tonight.

it’s been overwhelming him, the slight ache on the temple of his forehead a familiar feeling. but it’s also accompanied by a quiet humming—a buzz that’s faint on the back of his head. it tickles his pinky finger.

satoru scans the area, accidentally catching sight of a figure he’s been wanting to see despite his mind.

“ah, that’s why,” satoru scoffs a humorless laugh, gently rubbing his eyes again.

thankfully, itadori can’t see his eyes from beneath the blindfold. he’d been informed by megumi that it was glowing when he was around you.

“sensei?” itadori asks. “who are you looking at?”

satoru hums, “my soulmate.”

itadori blinks up at him. “your soulmate?”

“yes.”

“oh!” itadori’s mouth drops open in surprise when satoru doesn’t add that he’s joking. he glances back and forth between a satoru frowning behind his blindfold, and an oblivious y/n. “why aren’t you…um, going to them, then?”

“y/n’s not like us,” satoru says simply, losing the glee in his voice for that split second.

“y/n…y/n-san can’t see curses, then?” itadori guesses, frowning at the thought. he used to be like that, too. “not a sorcerer like you…”

satoru swings a look at his student, who still looks perplexed by satoru’s words. ah, of course. itadori wouldn’t understand, not really. itadori is the type to give it his all despite the risk—live fast, die young.

“soulmates mess with us, you know?” satoru grins, stretching his hands above his head. “can’t have anyone make a mess of the strongest.”

“i guess,” itadori murmurs. “hey, sensei, you said the finger is around here, right?”

and just like that, the tension’s forgotten. satoru scratches his pinky, ignoring the red thread tied delicately around it while nodding at his student.

satoru can’t give you the warmth you deserve.

“y/n? you okay? we have a customer here.”

you startle, snapping out of your thoughts. your friend is staring at you worriedly. “sorry! sorry… i just felt like—” you glance around, looking for something you’re not sure of. “nevermind, it’s nothing.”

you feel strangely hollow.

[sixosix]

( & ) yuuta needs some tender loving care ok? thats my excuse

okkotsu yuuta’s been staring at you for quite some time now, and as much as you trust that never would his intentions be creepy on purpose, you’re starting to feel a bit unnerved.

your fingers falter from where you’ve been holding a hairbrush, craning your neck to match his gaze with your own—yet he doesn’t flinch nor splutter at being caught. it seems like he didn’t even notice, his eyes straying slightly away from your face and to your hair.

there’s a bit of awe in the way his lips are parted slightly and his eyes are sparkling.

you glance between him and the brush, before making a decision.

yuuta only snaps out of it when you scoot your chair closer to him. he breaks out of his trance and barely makes out a sheepish smile for retribution of sorts.

“sorry…” he murmurs, eyes darting all over the room the closer you get.

“lay your head on the desk,” you instruct, watching as wide eyes slide back to you in confusion and alarm. “come on, i’m not gonna slam your head down. did maki and toge give you trust issues or something?”

you laugh when he finally splutters a string of nonsensical vowels as a no!.

yuuta’s eyes dart from your hand before lingering back to your face tentatively. you let him sort it out, smiling patiently all the while. he exhales, shoulders relaxing when he doesn’t find what he was searching for—mockery, maybe? you would never do that to him.

carefully, as if he’s nervous that you’re still watching him, he crosses his arms and lies on the desk. it looks uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

with the caution of handling a scared and wild little kitten, you let your hand brush against the top of his head, letting him know what you’re about to do. yuuta freezes for half a second, but he forces himself to relax when you pull away.

“i don’t— i don’t really brush my hair often,” he admits pitifully. if you can see his face right now, you’d catch sight of the embarrassed pout he’s wearing.

“exactly why i’m doing this for you,” you chuckle, brushing through strands of his hair gently, taking extra care when you reach knots.

not even a second later, he’s melting onto the desk, a pleased little sigh escaping him as you play with his hair.

it’s softer than it looks, like gentle wisps of the softest fabric if he took more care for it. but that’s okay, it’s what you’re here for.

when you move closer to the nape, a shiver rolls off of him. you take pity and decide not to comment on it because the red on the tips of his ears is speaking volumes alone.

“this feels nice,” he sighs softly, and you would’ve had to strain your ears to hear it had you not been this close to him. maybe he doesn’t realize he said it aloud.

smiling fondly, you continue to play with strands of his hair despite it being free from any tangles. it’s not often yuuta is this relaxed, and if it means you can help him out like this, you’d waste your hours here with him.

the smile on his face means he’d only come back for more after this.

[sixosix]

𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍: 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒

ft. yuuji, megumi, and satoru

no warnings just fluff for u and me. established relationships, reader will be the same age for each of them (duh), enjoy!

“hey, can you take my first kiss?”

% ITADORI YUUJI would, of course, not hesitate in agreeing. he loves you and he bets he would also love kissing you—he’s an affectionate boyfriend like that. he’d pull you close by the waist, gentle even with calloused hands, grinning all the while. and then he’d kiss you on the forehead, nose—and if he realizes you’re not backing out, he’d dip down and kiss you stupid. and then again. and again.

yuuji, dumbfounded when you two pull away, swipes a finger over your lip, and seems to have come to a revelation. “they weren’t making it up when they said it’d feel good.” apparently that was his first kiss, too.

% FUSHIGURO MEGUMI wouldn’t agree the first time. probably because you’d blurt it out in the middle of a mission and he’d assume you’re under the influence of a curse. but if you try again in better—erm, circumstances he’ll realize you’re serious. and then, as if you didn’t take more than two tries to make him kiss you, he’d lean close and sweep you for a kiss.

he’d pull some shit, too, like gently bite your lip and make your knees waver. or pull you closer by tugging on your hair. you’d look soooo stupid after, but still, tease him for it. “shut up,” he says, ears red.

% GOJO SATORU would first assume you’re pulling his leg, snorting after you ask him that. but then you don’t laugh, and then he stops giggling, and stares. “you’re not joking,” he exhales; his eyes round with surprise, in complete disbelief. “you haven’t had your first kiss?” as if he’s possessed, his face would brighten up in what almost seems like crazed elation. if you didn’t know any better, you’d run away.

“aw, were you saving it for me?” he coos, inching closer and closer until you feel his breath on your face. “you’re so cute.” even if you deny it, he’d just swallow your reply with his mouth. he’d refuse to let go of you after that, sorry. he’s your problem now.

[sixosix]

can we mayhaps get a jealous inumaki drabble?

( & ) ofc u can. anything for inumaki<3

“careful, toge,” maki snickers to snap inumaki from the daze he didn’t even realize he was in. “at this point, not even refusing to speak would help you from hiding how obvious you are.”

“bonito flakes,” inumaki denies with a hiss, glaring at his friend. “fish flakes,” he finishes, refusing to meet maki’s eye.

maki smirks, all self-satisfied in a way that deeply grates inumaki’s nerves even without a word. “sulking here won’t chase off your crush in the arms of someone else.”

inumaki’s gaze catches once again to you, laying in panda’s arms as you laugh. and panda, who seems to be lost in crooning happily at your gentle touch. it’s a sweet gesture. panda always mentioned he doesn’t mind it when he cuddles with his friends.

inumaki makes a pained noise that’s laughably close to a keen. does it have to be with you, though?

he enviously eyes the way you smile at panda, excitement bright in your eyes as you recall everything that’s happened on yesterday’s missions.

maki thinks he shouldn’t really be jealous of anything, though, because everything you’re relaying to panda is old news to inumaki who’s already heard all of it and more yesterday. as soon as you returned, even.

“not jealous, you say?” maki echoes his exclamation earlier with a delighted grin. she’s sure that underneath that collar is a childish pout only you could pull out of this boy. “you know, if you ask, y/n’ll cuddle with you and pat your head, too.”

finally having enough, inumaki shoots one last icy scowl, accompanied by a middle finger that itadori would’ve gasped at, and stalks off and marches his way to you.

maki wouldn’t be surprised if there would be a menacing inumaki behind you wherever you walk by tomorrow. the same deadly stare that never failed to make yuuta piss his pants. if panda’s alive by then, maki would share popcorn with him.

[sixosix]

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄: 𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒

# pure unadulterated fluff, reveals >:) MORE FLUFF! wc 1.5k

a/n i am a sucker for the “he did that!?” trope. you’ll understand what i mean.

“thank you for holding onto it, yuuji-kun!” you beam at your underclassman after skipping over to him, nearly toppling over with relief when itadori revealed that he never once let go of your precious locket.

itadori grins, “no problem, senpai!” ah, he’s so bright. “here, let me help you wear it.”

“oh—” itadori spins you around before you can voice out a reply, leaving you no choice but to just push your hair and collar aside. with your front facing the field once again, you catch inumaki staring at the scene—the both of you turn away. “thanks, yuuji. you’re seriously a lifesaver.”

itadori hums, followed by a quiet click! from your necklace. “senpai, i’m curious, though. i always see you wearing this, even during missions. you only ever take it off when we’re training. did someone give it to you?”

you distractedly rub the locket with your fingers, smiling softly as you gaze at it. kugisaki and fushiguro look over, eyes curious and ears perked up with attention, alerting your classmates to wonder what’s going on, too.

the locket isn’t anything special. you were four when you begged for your family to give you spare change for it. it’s worn out, silver faded over time, but it will always be the most valuable object for you.

“no one gave it to me,” you answer, eyes fixed on the glint coming off from it. “i bought it myself.”

kugisaki leans over itadori, eyeing the locket. itadori makes a confused noise at your reply, clearly not understanding. “hmm, it is pretty. it clashes with our uniform, but i get it.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “no, i didn’t buy it because it’s pretty. a locket is a locket for a reason, you know?”

“ah! i see!” itadori points at the clasp of silver hanging over your collarbones. “so it’s what’s inside?”

“can i see?” kugisaki’s eyes sparkle, and itadori copies her. now you have two of your underclassmen pleading for a grand reveal—even fushiguro walks closer.

your skin grows warm at the onslaught of attention, holding the locket as if mimicking a shield. “i-it’s nothing special… you’ll be very disappointed. besides, i like my mystery, you know?”

…

“stop looking at me like that!” you wail, flailing your hands over their faces to wipe those puppy-eyed looks.

“y/n’s right,” maki pipes up, parading to the scene. “it’s a dead flower inside.” kugisaki echoes a perplexed: a dead flower?

maki is the only one who has seen what’s inside; the aftermath of her persistence and you feeling too soft for your friend to refuse. she says it now like she was disappointed, but after you explained to her the meaning behind it, she looked pretty impressed.

that person… they must be really special, huh?

just the thought makes your face warm.

“what? maki has seen it?” panda wonders aloud, with a note of betrayal.

“you and toge were out,” maki snaps for your sake before you start panicking. “and i’m y/n’s best best friend, i deserve to know.”

inumaki’s eyes cut to maki’s, sharp. “fish flakes,” he protests.

“okay, second to him,” maki scrunches her nose. “but toge shouldn’t count. because i saw it first.”

inumaki glares at her, and maki glares back. a pink-haired teen bursts between them, eyes round.

“i want to see it, too!” itadori proclaims.

“it’s up to l/n-senpai,” fushiguro reminds him curtly, making itadori’s shoulders deflate.

“i don’t mind,” you assure them with a placating smile. “just pretend you’re not underwhelmed, or else my feelings will get hurt.”

they raise their hands in mock salute. maki and fushiguro roll their eyes.

your fingers click on the clasp clumsily, the gesture unfamiliar; you don’t quite unlock your locket every day, afraid of losing the contents held.

itadori elicits a noise of childish wonder, always one for the sentimentals.

inside, are petals, dried, shrunken up, and long dead. but the purple is like a spray of color that stands out from gray. to you, it’s still the most heartwarming sight.

the color reminds you of inumaki’s eyes.

your eyes flick up to him, only to find that he’s already staring at you curiously.

“a flower,” panda coos, breaking the tension. “someone special gave it to you?”

“yeah, he is,” you confess shyly, and their expression changes into one of surprise. romance was never a hot topic for sorcerers, so this one is truly a shock to everyone. you’re suddenly relieved that gojo is nowhere near to hearing this gossip. “not that you can meet him, though! the last time i saw him was when i was four.”

“...that’s—”

“real sad? yeah, that’s what i also said,” maki interrupts itadori. but you recognize it for the kindness maki offers in hidden ways—she’s thinking itadori might say something worse for something so special to you.

but itadori is not like that.

“ah, no,” itadori laughs sheepishly, “i was about to say ‘romantic’.”

you snap the locket shut in surprise, ears ringing with how loud your heart is beating.

romantic. they think it’s romantic.

you want to bury your face in your hands for the rush of giddiness you feel. maybe maki is right; this is really sad.

kugisaki scoffs, loudly smacking her friend’s head. “idiot! what if it was y/n-senpai’s brother? or dad?”

itadori looks horrified. “wait, y/n-senpai—”

“mustard leaf?” inumaki’s gaze is soft and patient, a hand on your shoulder to remind you of his question.

“um—”

“you’re kidding,” kugisaki gapes at your reaction, “you’re still in love with that guy!?”

“what’s up with second years and their devotion to childhood romance…”

“it’s not like that!”

inumaki sighs, reaching for your wrist. you let him, because inumaki toge would be the last person in a list of people you know that would seek to hurt you—but you’re not prepared for him tugging you so roughly that your chests collide.

“tuna mayo,” he says, head tilted in the direction of the dorms.

“yeah, okay,” you murmur, cheeks aflame. “get me out of here before i combust.” inumaki huffs a quiet laugh.

inumaki peeks out to stare at the small crowd behind you. “fish flakes,” he warns, and you swear you could’ve felt a thin veil of cursed energy in those words.

“we’re not gonna follow you!” panda says, laughing too eagerly for it to be not suspicious.

“…does inumaki-senpai like—”

“yes. yes he does.”

inumaki opens his door.

you look around, smiling widely at your best friend. you haven’t been in his room for a while, but mostly because he likes your room better so you two tend to spend your lazy days in your room.

“what did you want to show me?” you question, skidding to a halt when inumaki reaches for his windowsill, where his pots of flowers stand proudly.

inumaki mentioned that his family made him grow fond of decorating his home with flowers, so even here he takes special care of the plants he brought from his clan.

he reaches for a familiar flower, shaded purple from its care and fading white to the tips of its petals. “tuna,” inumaki murmurs, plucking one of it out and handing it to you.

you feel a grin snaking up to your lips. “do you want me to replace it…?”

“bonito flakes,” inumaki shakes his head. he puts the pot back and reaches for your locket, “mustard leaf?”

“yeah, i trust you.”

inumaki’s eyes crinkle with a soft smile as he clicks to open your locket. gently, he thumbs the flower in, leaving you with two, one gray and the other still bright and healthy. he looks very pleased looking at it, where his flower covers the entirety of the old one.

“i didn’t know you’re the jealous type, toge,” you tease.

inumaki narrows his eyes playfully, snapping your locket shut with: “bonito flakes.”

you were four.

everything is too blinding and loud, with the lights flashing and people from their stalls yelling for customers.

for someone, it should be nothing special. but for a four-year-old who just lost sight of their guardian and is now in the middle of everything, it’s extremely overwhelming. too much, that you fall to your knees and clutch your head in hopes of muffling the sounds.

a finger pokes your forehead.

you look up to see a boy around your age, with pure white hair and striking purple eyes. he’s holding out a flower, crouched across you as he waves it around.

but he doesn’t move, like he expects you to crawl to him. like you’re a cat prepared to strike for a treat.

“for me?” you ask, finally releasing the death grip over your ears. when he nods, you brighten, completely forgetting about why you were in tears earlier. you’ve always loved gifts. “thank you!”

“you’re real nice,” you tell him.

he blushes. it’s very cute.

the boy gestures somewhere. “tuna?” he asks, pointing at a frantic woman who all but rushes in to tackle you into a hug.

“y/n! oh, baby, i told you to hold my hand…”

“sorry…”

you hold the flower close to your chest, watching from over your mother’s back as the boy starts walking away— but not without shooting a knowing smile over his shoulder at you.

gloxinia - love at first sight

thank you for reading!!!! likes, reblogs, and comments r super cool and ill love u forever

[sixosix]

gojo satoru: unfortunately a keeper

# fluff, this is not angst artemis :/, satoru the smooth talker (gross), wc 875

“satoru, why do you like me?”

after spending the day with satoru and his students, both you and your boyfriend are lying on the bed, spread out and interwoven with each other’s limbs. you bet that satoru isn’t tired, but you are—and he’s always been a little too clingy so of course, he’s beside you.

“hm?” satoru has his eyes open even in the darkness of the room, and you can tell by the way you see the telltale twinkle of diamonds when you squint. “why do i like you?”

he studies the side of your face while you pointedly avoid his eyes. but the tone he says it with—why are you even asking that, silly?—makes you want to look back.

it sounds like a sad question; like the start of something horrible and doubtful, but if you’re not able to do this right with satoru, then you’d rather know now before you fall deeper and deeper for a dangerous man like him.

earlier, nobara snatched you from the rest of the boys and led you to an ice cream shop. she warned them that if they follow both of you and eavesdrop—especially you, sensei—she will hit their heads with her hammer. it’s not gonna be the squeaky one.

she talked to you and said she wants to have some alone time with the only other sensible one in the group (even though you aren’t even part of their group). then, she asked you why you love gojo-sensei—a simple question for someone in a relationship.

it would be easy to answer her, right? you’ve been with satoru for weeks now, going on a tangent about what you love about him should come easy. naturally.

and yet you found yourself at a loss for words.

you were nervous at that time, you remember. head spinning with nonsense because you never imagined you’d be stumped with such a simple question. “i… i love satoru. i just—love him?”

“yeah, but why?”

“i…? i don’t know—that’s a hard question. do i need a reason?”

why do you love satoru?

nobara’s eyes widened. genuine surprise broke across her face as if she saw you in a new light.

“okay, maybe i doubted sensei too much,” nobara chuckled, still in disbelief. you still don’t understand what she thought you said that made her doubts disappear. “i didn’t expect you love sensei that much. i mean, i know he looks good, that’s what all the ladies say, but you—”

and now you’re here lying next to satoru, reeling with confusion.

you stare at satoru. “is there a reason why you love me?”

satoru takes a sharp intake of breath as if he’s ready to recite an essay but then cuts himself off before he can even get a word out. all that comes out is: “huh.”

your stomach drops, brows furrowing at his underwhelming answer. no, it doesn’t even sound like an answer; it sounds like a revelation to his answer.

you still don’t understand why nobara thought you composed sonnets about your undying love for your boyfriend, even though you couldn’t think of an answer. because it doesn’t feel that way right now.

“i can’t think of a specific reason,” satoru admits, shuffling closer to you. you can feel a large hand cupping the side of your face, his thumb restless with tracing shapes on your skin. sometimes you forget that this is a side of satoru that only you can have—because no one else can literally touch him. “there are a lot of specific reasons when it comes to you.”

“then why can’t you tell me?”

you expect him to crack a joke to ease the tension, like he always does when things get too much. instead, he hums.

“i don’t love you because of the color of your eyes, or the way you say my name, or the way you look when you wear my shirt—i grew to love those because it’s from you.” and satoru has the nerve to say it so casually, while your heart is pounding and your mind is at point blank.

“that’s—”

“remember when we first met? you told me, to my face,” satoru clears his throat, readying a dramatic recreation, “through heaven and earth, you alone are the honored one—to kiss my fucking ass.”

“oh my god,” you say, mortified. “why do you even remember that?”

satoru ignores your question, recalling your embarrassing first impression with reverence. “and after that, i just knew. and i told myself: that one. i want that one.”

his words process in your head. “you like me because i’m an asshole to you?”

satoru laughs, pinching your cheek. “no, dummy! though, it’s kinda hot when you do—”

“gross.”

“—i just love you,” satoru finishes, and smiles lazily at you, all teeth as white as his soft hair. “because of everything and also because of nothing. do i need a reason other than that?”

your wide-eyed staring makes him grin wider, and you hide your face on his chest as he laughs and coos at your reaction.

you smack his chest. “since when were you such a smooth talker?”

“since i found out you make cute faces when i do.”

…maybe you’re already in too deep.

[sixosix]

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔: 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

every world has someone to shine like the brightest of all stars, and someone to snuff out that flame—the fate that even the strongest people have always feared. never one without the other.

when gojo satoru is born, everyone knew he’d be the former. he has what they want, in his eyes, holding each twinkle of the beginning of a supernova, the bluest of the sky and the ocean, and the power only one could wish they could have. but it’s his alone.

when gojo satoru met you, he felt like he should hate you. there was something in you that buzzed his senses and alerted him to stay away, danger, don’t get close. his six eyes tell him that there is something in you that would do something to him—make him weak.

and make him weak you did.

(it took one wide smile from you to make him stutter and proclaim:

“i’m going to put a ring on that.”

“no, satoru, no, don’t,” said geto. and satoru ignored him because he was going to put a ring on it and nothing would stop the strongest. “satoru, don’t you dare walk away from me—”)

while he’s called to be the brightest sun to start and end a world at his desire, you’re more of the moon that would always be nearby whether he likes it or not, spinning around and around even when he’s shown the best of himself followed by the worst.

you’re something of everything that is opposite to him that makes the both of you too similar; too drawn to each other to resist it. 

(well, you tried to resist it for the sake of focusing on saving the world and everything—tuesday sorcerer to-do list. cute, but, if satoru can do that while also having you, then why the hell not, right?)

even now, in the darkness of his room.

“too bright,” he murmurs in a whine, half-muffled with his mouth pressed on your shoulder. “too bright.”

you put your hands over his eyes, and he’s filled with a rush of warmth. “better?”

you’ve been doing it since you learned about the drawbacks of his eyes, reaching up, always there when he thinks he’s too far off from everything—always two hands on his eyes and gentle fingers as protective as a shield. even when everyone calls him the strongest.

it doesn’t do anything, but he feels safe and warm anyway.

when the flame gets too bright, when the fire spreads far too fast, and when the heat suffocates him and bears down on his shoulders—you’re always there.

maybe it’s why his six eyes never truly did trust you, because you made him feel like he didn’t need it so long as you're lying next to him.

“mm, love you,” satoru whispers in bliss, a candle snuffed out.

“so needy,” you laugh quietly, pressing a kiss on his forehead. “you know i love you too.”

[sixosix]

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔: 𝐃𝐈 𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐈

( ? ) or those sweet moments as they slowly go bitter

( # ) fluff, THEN angst, everything is good before they get worse. satoru is bad at feelings! unhealthy relationship. LISTEN TO di na muli - the itchyworms while reading for plus points

( ! ) this is so vague lmao not sure if its canon compliant bc its been so long since i watched this anime, but i hope it still makes sense 😁

“i think blue suits you really, really well.”

you smother a grin with your arm as he towers over you, hands on either side of your head while he scrutinizes the loose shirt you stole from his closet. the way he looks at you, eyes so soft and sincere, makes your face warm—and it’s not from how he’s hovering so close.

with a light laugh, you push his face away with your free hand, “you’re only saying that because it’s the same shade as your eyes, you sap.”

“i never denied it,” he coos, holding the hand against his cheek to press a tender kiss on it. it’s enough to make you melt against the sheets, skin buzzing with the aftermath.

“ugh,” you tell him, because you know that he knows exactly how to make you flustered.

tender moments like these are rare, given how busy he is as a sorcerer and you with your work life. it’s only different today because he seemed to have been in a pretty good mood—enough to come over unannounced to your home.

“i could marry you right now,” he murmurs, and you almost didn’t hear him; perhaps he meant to keep it from you, and your heart flutters at the fact that satoru’s thinking of you that way.

your relationship with satoru is complicated, simply because the both of you are too hesitant to call each other something along the lines of ‘lovers’. it should fit, the way you two do, but it doesn’t seem right when you barely see him at all.

maybe it’s normal for couples. you could always ask him some other day.

for now, you let him lie down next to you and listen to how his heart beats.

on the way home from tedious hours of work, you pass by a street bustling with stalls selling various snacks and sweets that you keep buying as your wallet deflates faster than a balloon poked by a needle.

you snap pictures of all that you’ve brought, and satoru tells you that you don’t need to bribe him with sweets just to get him to come over, followed by other disgusting cheesy lines about how you’re sweet enough.

you pocket your phone and smile to yourself, smug.

the knocks on the door a few hours later work better than any alarm you’ve scheduled on your phone. with a skip to your step, you swing the door open and welcome him with outstretched arms.

before you can even get a word in, he peppers your face with kisses, cutting you off whenever you open your mouth. he laughs at your scrunched nose and breathes out, “hi.”

“satoru,” you kiss him again, your heart on your sleeve.

as the hours pass, the sweets are finally devoured and empty, and you’re a bit sleepy from the rush of seeing satoru again slowly leaving you.

the evening is slow like this, always with him snuggled comfortably against your side, eyes fluttering shut. you card your fingers through his hair, and a smile lights up his face.

“you say i don’t have to bribe you with sweets but you sure came running to me earlier,” you muse, almost absentmindedly. it doesn’t bother you; you’re just happy he’s here when he rarely is.

“no, i tel—ran here because i saw you’re wearing my shirt again,” he says. he peeks one eye open and smirks.

you glance down and belatedly realize you have, in fact, put on his shirt. maybe it's out of instinct because you missed him.

“right, of course, that’s been my secret plan all along.”

“you minx!”

maybe he just likes that you’re easy.

the thought comes out of nowhere while you’re at work, your phone lit up beside your keyboard, empty of notifications.

it’s stupid you even consider it. you shake your head, batting it off your mind.

(but the uneasy feeling never goes away.)

on some days like this one, you never hear from satoru at all.

you excused it before because you know that a sorcerer’s life is dangerous, even though you only heard him explain something about seeing something normal humans can’t.

is it because you aren’t special enough like him? is it because you don’t deserve someone as perfect as him, and he’s realizing it, too?

your eyes strain in the dark as your thumbs hover over the keyboard, almost glaring at the ‘satoru <3’ name and the messages last sent days ago.

is it really more important than what we have? you almost type, and the guilt eats you right up as tears prick your eyes and burn them in retort.

he’s only ever introduced you briefly to one friend, shoko, from a hazy night where you both are still drunk off love at first sight. he saw you from across the street and whisked you off with some annoying charm.

she was looking at you as if she pities you.

you didn’t like how she looked at you like that, because you love satoru with all your being, and you wouldn’t ever think of it as a bad thing. you never wanted to involve yourself with his friends because you didn’t want to be pitied.

but when you realize you don’t know him at all despite giving your everything to him, you get it. when you shut your phone and breathe in the cold, the spot next to you empty, you get it.

you wear his shirt. you weren’t expecting anything anymore, but the hope still stays; it’s more out of desperation.

then he comes knocking at your door, eyes heavy and dark. the storm doesn’t die down—it roars, pours, and pours, but satoru stays dry.

untouched.

“w-what—” you try to speak, almost embarrassed to be caught donning his shirt when neither of you has planned it. it makes you feel so pathetic, especially when remembering this is the first you’ve ever seen him after weeks.

“y/n, i—” his throat bobs, blue meeting the blue wrapped around your body; he looks away. “we need to talk.”

ah.

this is where your heart drops further down as if he’s come to shatter the glass you’ve been holding onto for you and him.

“don’t say it, please,” you plead, almost tumbling backward. “you don’t have the right to say anything to me when i haven’t heard from you for—where have you even been, satoru?”

“i’m sorry—”

“i don’t want an apology from you anymore,” you snap and lose a little of yourself when you watch his face falter.

to his credit, he does look guilty. but apparently not guilty enough for him to just get it over with and tell you who—or what he actually is. because right now, he seems like he was never even yours.

“…too much happened, sweetheart, and i know that—that i can’t keep making that excuse,” he adds hastily when your eyes flare. “it’s why i came here.”

this is the part where you realize that maybe you’ve done something wrong. maybe you haven’t tried to make yourself important enough for him to break down his walls for you.

this is the part where he tells you that he’s sorry. that it’s not you, it’s him. he will say it like a stranger, and he will mean it to make you feel like one, too.

you almost laugh at the nerve.

“i was going to say yes if you asked,” you tell him instead before he can begin, stepping closer as you watch in sick satisfaction when he almost trips to step back.

“say yes to what…?”

your fingers twitch where it’s gripping the edge of the door. “get out, gojo.”

satoru frowns, eyes round and pleading. urgently: “say yes to what, y/n?”

you bite your lip and turn away, trembling from the wave of emotions finally coming. “do you mean… if…” he looks horrified now, as if it was only after you said, he’s regretting pulling away.

“y/n—”

you slam the door in front of his face.

(this is normal, you tell yourself. this is what happens when you fall in love, right?

he’ll come back again.

it’s normal, and a part of you—selfish, desperate—wishes he would take it all back so you could open your arms for him and let it happen over again.)

the fic title is ‘never again’. and yeah reader meant saying yes to the proposal.

[sixosix]

inumaki toge: don't try to be a genius

blurb inumaki made it a mission to figure out why you’re acting so strange around him. he considered everything except a crush. (a 3+1 fic)

# fluff, based off twice song, friends to lovers, wc 2k

the first time starts with accidental hand holding.

in all honesty, maybe you should’ve figured you would slip sooner than later. a harmless crush—now harmful given the situation with your peers, mostly named gojo satoru and panda—is impossible to hide when the first thing on your mind isn’t romance, but bloody murder.

it was a day that was not dissimilar to a vacation. 

unfortunately, students like you aren’t quite the type to be given day-offs like 20% off coupons in sunday newspapers. so when gojo-sensei said “be free, my flock! make your mama bird proud!!” like the fucking weirdo he is, all of you should’ve known that curses would be crawling everywhere in your given ‘vacation’ destination.

“if you drop one bag, i’ll kill you,” says nobara. “and don’t you dare drop maki-senpai’s bag or i’ll kill you again!”

maki shrugs at your confused look, though she looks amused. she always allows nobara to suck up to her, but everyone else is as good as gone if they try.

yuuji, local maid of the first years and now the second years, sighs. “yes, ma’am, i understand.”

you walk in a leisurely pace beside nobara and inumaki. it’s both heaven and hell, and not in the way anyone would think. hell, because the love of your life is literally right beside you and looks so content you want to pinch him. heaven, because your best friend is right there to calm you down.

panda and yuuji launch into an insightful debate about which restaurant should you all go to for dinner, and everyone else joins in the conversation, save for you and inumaki, who are happy to listen to them.

“what do you think, y/n?” yuuji asks.

“hmm,” you pretend to be deep in thought, “fushiguro-kun has good taste so i vote whatever he votes.”

megumi flushes red. inumaki makes a noise to say that he agrees with you.

they continue with their debate. you’re happy to eat wherever as long as you stay with your friends.

your hand brushes against something warm and soft; on instinct, you want to curl into it like a cat, but when you look down and realize who those hands belong to, you panic.

—oh my god that’s inumaki-senpai’s hand—

with a flinch that’s strong enough to make nobara jostle from beside you, you dart away from inumaki.

nobara splutters, ready to have your head chopped off for disturbing personal space, but abruptly stops at the sight of your round-eyed stare directed at your own hands. it takes one glance at the object of your affection to realize what’s going on.

inumaki blinks, startled and confused. “mustard leaf?” he asks you, looking around for any sign of danger.

unless you all happen to walk past a mirror shop, you doubt he’d find anything life-threatening.

“what? what happened?” yuuji looks extremely alarmed at the sight of your distressed face. “y/n…?”

“nothing!” you’re quick to exclaim before everyone else asks. “sorry, just, uhhh—” panicked because i almost held inumaki’s hand like it was second nature.

you rush to yuuji’s side and distract him with a half-baked excuse, away from an amused nobara and a confused inumaki. if anyone notices you pointedly steering clear from inumaki, they don’t say anything.

you sit next to yuuji and fushiguro, despite inumaki leaving space for you.

it goes mostly normal for the rest of the night.

meanwhile, inumaki looks deeply perplexed at everyone acting like there’s an inside joke he’s not getting.

“inumaki? what’s up?”

maki quirks an eyebrow when inumaki slips a paper for her and panda to see. they read the words slowly, understanding dawning on their faces.

did i do something to upset y/n?, the note reads.

panda looks like he’s about to shit himself with how happy he looks. not an appropriate response, inumaki thinks, a little upset. “no, you didn’t do anything to upset y/n!” he says gleefully, which is like, totally suspicious.

“you’re so dumb,” maki rolls her eyes, flicking the paper back to him. it lands on his head, and she pats it. “you’ll figure it out soon.”

inumaki wants to figure it out now. he doesn’t like that you’re avoiding him, and he makes it clear with a mildly aggressive: “bonito flakes.”

maki and panda only laugh.

he makes it a mission to figure it out, much to your chagrin.

the second time starts, unfortunately, with gojo-sensei. and this time. inumaki is acutely aware, unfortunately.

“my lovebirds!” gojo chirps with a happy clap. you grimace and inumaki makes a confused noise. “my wonder duo! are you both up for some high-ranking missions, hm?”

“sensei, inumaki-senpai just got off from one,” you tell him.

inumaki shakes his head at you. “bonito flakes.”

gojo hums with amusement. “hmm? you want to do it?” and at your deadpan glare, gojo grins, because he’s a maniac who knows about your silly high school crush. “he wants to do it! if y/n-chan only wants his say in it, then we’re good to go.”

gojo may act like a fool—and he is, honestly—but he’s right about one thing, and it’s how you and inumaki fall into unspoken ease with teamwork, one that’s strangely limited to the both of you.

halves of the same whole, nanami once said. you didn’t have the heart to tell him it’s because you are in love with your supposed other half.

you assure gojo that it’s only because inumaki is strong enough to protect both him and his teammate, and gojo calls bullshit and says no matter what your technique is, you and inumaki make a formidable pair despite the year difference.

the thought of that makes you a little happy. and gojo takes advantage of that by sending you both off to missions more than anyone else.

but you don’t mind, not really. not when you get to spend time with inumaki, who’s so easy to be around with.

inumaki seems pleased that the Vacation-Day-Incident is long forgotten and you two fall back into a friendly routine.

“inumaki-senpai, here.” you toss him a small bottle of cough syrup you like to carry around in case of emergencies.

he looks surprised at the sight of it. “tuna mayo?”

“ah, yeah,” you chuckle sheepishly. “i notice you run out sometimes when it gets too rough so i always have extras with me.”

inumaki has a funny expression on his face, and it’s one he makes when he’s frustrated he can’t say what he wants to.

you clear your throat. “you don’t have to thank me, it’s no trouble—oh, what are you—”

inumaki shuts you up by taking your hand and gently kissing your knuckles.

you make a noise that’s somewhere between a yelp and a strangled squeal, which he seems to find amusing.

you know he did that to show gratitude when he can’t express it verbally, but did he have to do it like That…?

you feel your face heat up and you pull away from him like you’ve been burnt, missing the displeased frown on his face. “um! gojo-sensei is probably waiting for us.”

inumaki’s gaze is intense. “mustard leaf?”

inumaki feels like you’re pushing him away again. maybe you’re uncomfortable around him? that seems most likely. no one else had flinched from his presence that way before.

inumaki feels a bit sad, now. he’s not sulking—maybe—but gojo pats him on the back and wishes him luck and to push through with his mission. (inumaki never told anyone about it, but it’s gojo-sensei and he knows everything so he accepts it with a nod of gratitude.)

all in all, it was a very unfortunate end to the day.

the third time it happens, you’re stuck in a forest with him.

it’s a mission involving all of the first years along with inumaki (he found you guys on his way back) this time, and still, you end up alone with inumaki. it’s like the universe is conspiring against you or something.

or maybe it’s nobara not-so-subtly pushing you to inumaki’s direction every five minutes.

you don’t mind.

“yuuji-kun sure attracts trouble like a magnet, hm?” you muse, jumping over a root tall enough to reach your thigh.

inumaki smiles. “salmon.”

“i can’t help but worry, though,” you sigh. inumaki nudges you with an elbow until you look at his silent expression. “yeah, yeah, yuuji-kun is strong. and nobara and fushiguro-kun are strong enough to protect him, but it’s so—bleurgh.”

inumaki seems to accept your explanation. “tuna.”

you check the weather. “d’you think we should hurry up—”

“explode!”

that was not your voice.

alarmed, you turn your gaze back straight ahead. you almost trip over your own feet at the sight of a deformed caterpillar-like sludge creature that crawls out from the trees, similar to the one inumaki just killed.

the curse claws at your face.

you recoil from its grasp. “oh, gross!” you pierce your sword through it and watch it fizzle out of existence, flailing limply in your blade. you twist it around just to make sure. “that was gross,” you repeat.

“mustard leaf?” without warning, inumaki takes hold of your chin—NNHHHGG????!—for his eyes to roam around your face to check for any scratches.

you love that he’s getting comfortable with you, you really do. best friends forever, or something like that. but that doesn’t mean you don’t get to freak out about it when you quite literally feel his breath on your face.

you sputter some excuse and hurry away from him, heart pounding.

inumaki goes still, eyes stuck on the spot you were standing on before you ran away.

the frantic looks directed to anywhere but him, the embarrassed noises, the stammering—

maybe you’re already in a relationship?

he’s not sure what to feel about this mission anymore.

inumaki toge is standing outside your room.

yuuji spots him as he’s on his way back to his, and waves. “inumaki-senpai? what are you doing here?”

inumaki waves back and points at your door. “tuna tuna.”

“oooh, we’re at that part, alright,” says yuuji like that it isn’t the most cryptic dialogue one has ever heard. “do you want me to check if y/n’s there?”

“katsuobushi.”

“okay, okay! don’t look at me like that.” yuuji laughs. “i’ll leave ya to it. good luck, senpai!”

“mustard leaf…”

inumaki shakes his head and knocks on your door.

there’s a confused snort from the other side. you probably just woke up, inumaki thinks to himself with a small smile, and it doesn’t fade when you open the door, disheveled.

your eyes widen. “i-inumaki-senpai?” you blurt out louder than intended. both of you can hear a poorly stifled cackle from nobara’s room.

inumaki holds out his phone, letting you read out the words pre-written on the screen: i came here to apologize.

“what? wait, wait— what? what happened?”

inumaki types on his phone for a few seconds. i made you uncomfortable the past few days. i didn’t mean to do that.

you stare at him, blinking slowly. “made me… uncomfortable… what…?” then— “oh. oh! oh no, no, no. no, ahh this is so embarrassing.”

“mustard leaf…?” inumaki instinctively reaches out to you, but then stops himself when he remembers what he’s here for in the first place.

“inumaki,” you laugh in disbelief, “why are you apologizing as if it’s your fault i have a crush on you?”

what?

he gapes—he’s sure he’s gaping, but he can’t help it. his jaw drops even more when you don’t take it back, or even announce that you’re joking. you’re not joking. with a finger scratching the nape of your neck, you smile sheepishly. “i thought i was being obvious, but maybe not…?”

inumaki can’t help but mutter a soft, “oh” of realization.

it turns out he’s got it all wrong.

“oh,” says inumaki again.

he curses, and then shoves his phone away to take your hands. “salmon!” he exclaims, and he sounds so relieved and happy and you’re looking like you want to run away again. “salmon.”

“i’m sorry, i’m not sure what you mean—”

inumaki huffs and pulls his collar down. he’ll just show you.

it ends with a kiss.

remember when i said when i write jjk fics it would only be for inumaki? yeah well. TA DAAAAA ( ´ ▿ ` ) you should be worried tbh bc i literally have no idea wtf im doing with these characters

[sixosix]

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔: 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

( ? ) you’re the gojo satoru in this universe; the same one satoru happened to find himself shoved in without warning.

( # ) soulmates, mostly fluff and little angst, hopeful ending, gojo is so confused lord help him. no gender for reader but princess nickname once (1). oh and profanity because i’m sixosix

“oi, did you guys see that?”

kugisaki is frowning up at the sky, narrowed eyes glaring at something that flashed by. satoru wasn’t really paying attention, only half-heartedly listening to his students’ conversation to join in with a comment or two. he should’ve paid more attention had he known this would change his fucking life.

fushiguro makes a noise to say he didn’t, while itadori changes into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild.

“there was a shooting star!” kugisaki points at the sky, a look of awe settling openly on her face. “did no one else see it? seriously?”

“a shooting star!?” itadori is all but vibrating on his spot, head whipping in all directions to catch it—but they all see nothing but a blank canvas of blue. “where!?”

“ugh,” kugisaki rolls her eyes, “you totally missed it.”

“d’aw.” itadori’s shoulders slump, leaning dramatically against fushiguro, who at least doesn’t make a move to push him away. megumi, satoru muses, pretends to be all that even when he’s nothing like it at all.

maybe he’s learning too much from him.

“next time,” fushiguro mumbles so quietly you’d think it’s only for himself.

but itadori and kugisaki grin at him, both patting his back. satoru smiles.

“you know,” itadori says, picking up the pace to walk backward in front of the group. “i heard from my senpai that if you see a shooting star, it means you’ll be with someone you’re meant to be with soon!”

“oh?” satoru stands up straighter as his students turn to glance at him, “that’s a good one.”

itadori nods so hard that satoru’s afraid his head will come rolling off. “yeah! yeah, i know! and it’s funny ’cause the next day—” he gasps, skidding to a stop as he gapes at them with wide eyes, “—oh! you guys are my soulmates.”

he tackles his ‘soulmates’ and satoru sidesteps to evade.

kugisaki, enraged: “don’t slobber all over me, idiot!”

fushiguro, unperturbed: “i thought shooting stars were for wishes.”

itadori, enthusiastic: “it can mean both, don’t be a killjoy.”

satoru smiles to himself as he watches them from behind, before his eyes flit back to the dark sky. another shooting star comes flying past, and he doesn’t wish for anything. he doesn’t even have to think it.

deep down, he already knows what he’s longing for.

when satoru snaps back, he’s instantly on guard.

his senses are on overdrive, ringing and screaming even when he screws his eyes shut. his head pounds, eyes stinging even underneath his blindfold. but danger is danger, so he pushes through and examines his surroundings.

frankly, he doesn’t know how he ended up here.

he remembers closing his eyes to drift off to sleep, remembers the comfort of something soft under him—and then the next thing he knows, he’s lying on the fucking ground with a very attractive (but somehow unsettling) person staring down at him.

what did you say again?

he lets your words process in his head. and then he blinks.

“what the fuck does that mean?”

it’s not often that satoru finds himself cursing so venomously, especially not to a pretty stranger like this. he has a reputation that he keeps for fun.

but then again, it’s not often satoru wakes up in another universe.

“it means that you don’t belong here, genius,” you laugh, and satoru must’ve visibly bristled to make you grin wider.

something about you unnerves him.

maybe it’s because he could consider the possibility that you just kidnapped him and told him he’s traveling to parallel universes. but for some reason, he feels that you’re not lying. and his gut instinct never let him down.

or… it’s because your presence is overwhelming.

“gojo?”

he can’t explain it, but something about you is driving him crazy. you’re familiar, but he’s never seen your face before. and just how can that be possible?

he… doesn’t see you as a threat, even though—again—he’s never met you before, and you were the first in his vicinity when he awoke on the ground.

what does that mean? is this a curse’s work? is this more powerful than anything he’s encountered before?

“gojo!”

his skin is buzzing, thrumming with energy ready to burst out at any given second.

his eyes are straining painfully, but he still has his blindfold, so what’s the deal?

“satoru!”

he snaps out of it and glares at hand about to land on his shoulder, hissing, “don’t even think about it.”

hostility might not be the best course of action for someone who’s willingly providing him with information, but he feels crazy and terrified out of his mind, alright?

you chuckle at his expression—and again, he doesn’t understand how he can’t feel anything from you that should make him turn and run even when his six eyes tell him that you’re too powerful even for him. “sorry, sorry. you looked like i was losing you there for a sec.”

it’s only then satoru realizes he’s literally still on the ground, on the grass, knees spread, arms behind him, his hands tickled by the green blades. he didn’t even notice he was in such a vulnerable position.

“okay,” he intones in hopefully a cool way to distract you from the pink tint on his cheeks, “this was fun and all, sweets. enlightening, really, if i was a scientist. but i’m a busy man—you know how it is.”

gojo satoru can’t believe he’s almost looking forward to seeing the higher-ups just to get out of this.

before he can even fully turn in a 180, you’ve warped right behind him, meeting him halfway. “wait!” you exclaim, and holy shit you’re touching his wrist!

he can feel the warmth of your skin, the softness, the gentleness. “what…?” satoru blinks, reaching for his infinity.

“it won’t work,” you say, like you already know what he’s thinking. maybe you do. “didn’t you listen? i’m like you. your six eyes won’t see me as a threat, because you don’t.”

okay. he is confused.

he is seeing you as a threat, he knows this. because 1) he’s never seen you in his life. 2) he woke up and you told him he is currently in another universe. 3) you have some kind of ability that is messing with his six eyes—and it’s driving him crazy.

“how can i trust you?” he asks instead, pulling away from your grip.

“…sorry?”

he’s glad that his blindfold is hiding the way he’s looking for all possible exit lanes—but somehow, he has a feeling that you can sense that, too. “you could just be spouting bullshit for all i know. can’t blame a man for asking for proof.”

“ugh.” you wrinkle your nose. gojo’s eyes snap to it for some reason. “i was hoping you’d just go along.”

“i’m offended you think so low of my intelligence.”

you scoff, and satoru is acutely aware of the fact that you’re too close to him and seem to make no plans of moving. “how about i just prove it to you?”

why are you still holding his arm?

“sure.”

satoru briefly wonders if anyone is looking for him right now. he could just… teleport away, but for some reason, everything about this is messing with his eyes; therefore, his brain, rendering him absolutely useless until he gets his shit together.

yeah, it’s definitely not that and not because he is a little interested in what’s going on to make him stuck with you.

of course it’s— what the fuck.

a burst. a splash of colors. a thrum of energy buzzing faintly in the air as an aftermath.

sure enough, some curses start to creep closer to you both at the sight.

satoru’s eyes widen underneath his blindfold when he finally realized you weren’t kidding about the ‘gojo satoru in this universe’ part. “that was—”

“i also have six eyes and limitless,” you cut in. “and as we both know, there is only one sorcerer in the world who has that—and you’re in a different one right now.”

no wonder why he’s so entranced by your eyes.

wait, what?

“and you’re not just making me see things, hm?” he supposes he’ll entertain you for a while. until someone comes to pick him up so he can leave without feeling like a coward. because he’s not a bit freaked out. he’s not.

you snort, twirling your fingers. a breeze flies past from your impact. “you can think that way, but we both know that hand-holding earlier is impossible to make you feel things with. especially you, gojo.”

satoru feels himself blush at the memory. maybe that explains why you were able to touch him even when he didn’t purposefully lower his guard.

“alright, i’ll bite,” he lifts both his hands in surrender. “tell me, though, budget-satoru—” the stink eye you flash at him is hilarious, “—how do you know i’m from another universe? we could’ve just… never met each other before.”

“you’re right. we’ve never met each other before.”

“you’re pulling my leg here.”

your glare is as threatening as a baby cat. aww damn, satoru’s always had a soft spot for cute things. “…do you believe in soulmates?” you wring your hands nervously.

soulmates. someone you’re perfectly suited to be with—someone meant for you as you are for them.

a smirk worms its way to his face. “oh? you think i’m your soulmate?”

“something like that.”

satoru almost slips at the brutal honesty. “that’s cute.”

with a roll of your eyes, you thwack his head—abuse of power!—and then hold both of his hands to force all his attention on you. it strangely feels nice. when was the last time someone did this? he ignores it. “yesterday… no—last night, what did you do?”

“huh?”

“were there shooting stars last night? did you catch sight of it?” you ask, almost too eagerly and satoru’s mind is whirring. “because if that’s the case, i think i might have an answer!”

“what are you talking—”

satoru pauses. “there was a shooting star last night. well, i caught two.”

you nod excitedly, and there’s a sense of deja vu where he’s almost worried your head will fall off. satoru feels weird, staring at you—everything familiar yet nothing he’s seen before.

“yes! yeah, exactly, i knew it!” and as if you forgot satoru was even here, you smile sheepishly. “uh, did you make a wish at it?”

did he?

or was he longing for it for too long that every part of him wished for it itself?

“i can’t tell you that, or else it won’t come true!” he protests, like a child.

“idiot, it already did.”

satoru pulls away, like you’ve burnt him. and maybe, it’s because felt like you did, something about you is warm—his skin is left feeling flushed. “you’re serious about the soulmates thing?” he asks, frowning.

“unfortunately.”

now that snaps satoru back to action. “don’t look so down, you should be grateful it’s me instead of anyone else!”

“egotistical brat,” you remark instead of a thank you.

“don’t talk to your soulmate like that,” he grins.

now that he’s entertaining the idea, he doesn’t seem to mind it. it explains a lot of reasons—why he feels so comfortable even when he’s never met you, and why he’s stuck with you when he wished to be with someone he loves and who could love him the same.

just thinking about it is making him flustered, so he waves it off like a cloud of smoke.

“you believe me?” your hopeful eyes beam at him.

he steels himself. “no… not yet. but it makes sense, so i suppose i understand how you came to this conclusion—that being said, how were you so sure that i’m from another universe? for all you know, we just weren’t aware of each other until now.”

“ah. well, i guess it’s time for formal introductions.” you clear your throat, bending down to a mocking bow. “l/n y/n, one of the teachers at jujutsu high. i’m born with six eyes and limitless, dubbed as the strongest. i have students, though one of them is overseas at the moment.”

okay. he figured that much, if you really are what he is in “his world”.

“you,” a finger poking at his chest, “are a high school teacher in this universe. still a teacher—fitting, huh?” you muse, “you were always meant to be one, probably.”

“then have you met me before, dear stalker of mine?”

“i-i’m not—i’m not a stalker!”

oh, that’s an interesting reaction.

“don’t look at me like that with your ugly face—” and gojo gasps in offense, squawking sulkily how dare you! “—i just see you in the same place every day when i pass by to get to the school. and then i just hear…stuff. people like to talk, you know?”

“you could just teleport, you know?” he mocks in your tone. “unless you like the view?”

“ugh, this is why you aren’t my soulmate,” you scrunch your face in clear distaste.

“we’re literally the same person!” he wails.

you take him to the café you claimed you always see your gojo satoru in.

it’s too familiar for him to dismiss the details until he remembered you mentioning that this is a café from the route to jujutsu high. he doesn’t walk the path often, but when he does, it’s the same old, same old.

he hopes to check it out when he returns. if he returns.

(there’s always someone sitting by the window, head buried in their arms. and satoru always notices them first, finding amusement in hair sticking out from all directions.)

“why are we standing outside like creepy stalkers?” satoru stage-whispers.

you glare at him. “i don’t want you to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

gojo coos, “aw, you care about first impressions so much? well, i’ll say—my first impression of you certainly wasn’t the most pleasant—”

you make a move to strangle him, and he laughs as he avoids it.

“you better hope at least someone will miss you back home—”

“everybody loves me—”

you and satoru both notice the moment it happens:

this world’s satoru walking in the room.

he hears how your breath catches in your throat, sees how your eyes widen slightly, and feels how your heart stutters for a beat. it leaves him feeling dazed, unable to look away.

he doesn’t know why that look on your face affects him so much.

“there. that one,” you murmur, reluctantly pulling your gaze away from his doppelgänger to look up at him shyly. you’re embarrassed, satoru notes. “well—you obviously know what you look like. i wasn’t lying, okay?”

“of course, princess,” he croons, resisting the urge to pinch your cheeks to see what other expressions you’d make.

“ugh,” you glare. it makes him grin wider.

this world’s doppelgänger of him isn’t even anything special. it has his stunning looks, sure; enough to make some strangers look twice, but if it’s him without what makes him special, then who is he?

just a man with a stable job and peculiar features. he doesn’t understand how some version of him that’s so… bland can catch the eye of someone like you. he almost feels like it’s unfair.

“you have good taste,” he says instead, humming appreciatively.

you make a face. “please don’t tell me you’re checking yourself out.”

“hey, it’s not every day a man like me can see himself from a third-person perspective.”

“you’re disgusting. i hate you.”

“and yet we’re soulmates. what does that say about you, hm?”

“i’m soulmates with him, not your pathetic budget version,” you say so confidently, chin raised in defiance, that he snorts before he can stop himself.

“speaking of, i think he’s looking our way.”

“what!?”

he’s not lying. the raw, horrified emotion on your face makes him feel less bad about all of this.

he watches as this world’s gojo tilts his head curiously at the two heads poking out from the bushes. you yank him down immediately, and he comes face-to-face with your neck as you survey inside, almost boiling in embarrassment.

it must be contagious, because his cheeks are warming up, and he can’t help but cough to get rid of the butterflies starting to flutter.

“he doesn’t even know you exist; how long will it take before the soulmates part happen?” he asks.

“i’m too impatient for all that,” you scoff. “we’re soulmates, our paths are bound to cross. but it won’t hurt to give a little push, hm?”

his eyes catch on your grin, lips stretched over teeth. he finds himself a bit too entranced by the emphasized line from your ear to shoulder with the tilt of your head. his fingers twitch from his lap.

we’re soulmates.

and he learns: maybe it’s not about what makes him or you special, because whatever’s keeping you two tied together by the pinky finger is special enough.

oh, he realizes belatedly. he doesn’t want to go back.

“i guess so.”

when he wakes up, he’s on his bed, heart pounding and blood rushing, eyes wide at the ceiling.

he knows it isn’t a dream, not when the ghost of your skin is still lingering in the back of his eyelids and the tremble of his breath.

the door is met with a soft chime of a bell when satoru pushes it open.

his heart is racing, uncharacteristically nervous. he hopes his shades are hiding the emotion in his eyes.

everything about it looks the same, and it’s all too familiar even when he’s never stepped foot on it in his life (not in this one, at least, but definitely in another).

he takes a glance around, just to look casual, even though his eyes are already zeroed in on one person.

fate is his destiny, but it wouldn’t hurt to give it a little push.

there. hair sticking out from all directions, a half-empty drink almost suffocated by the death grip it’s trapped in, and a head buried in a mess of arms to accommodate for the awkward position

he pulls up the chair and taps the shoulder carefully.

you look up, eyes wild and bewildered, before it finally lands on gojo. “oh!” the same voice, the same face—it’s hard not to think it’s the same you. “sorry, have we met before?”

satoru chuckles, noting how you still have the same effect on him. you don’t have to know how nervous he feels. at least you don’t have six eyes in his universe. “you can say that. i’m gojo satoru, you?”

maybe it won’t be the same, but so long as his stars are intertwined with yours, he’ll gladly do it all over again.

( A/N ) WWWW THANK U FOR READING. omg. im so sorry for not posting for so long school (+genshin combined) has me so busy. hope u enjoyed!! and if u did, pls reblog :D or comment. id love to hear ur thoughts to motivate me into writing more WOO

[sixosix]

“another fan letter?”

shoko’s voice is piercing enough to cut through the fog that’s starting to cloud over satoru’s head. it wasn’t anything bad, really. nothing of the self-deprecatory sort, more like his mind is running off, dazed and flustered beyond belief.

“um…” satoru mumbles; and he doesn’t know why he tries to hide it. it’s a fruitless attempt, because shoko would immediately find out something’s wrong.

from behind him—and from god knows where—getou appears and plucks the paper from his hand. satoru’s mind is still reeling too fast to catch up.

getou takes one look at the bottom of the page, where most names of the admirers lie, and he quirks a curious brow. “it’s from y/n.”

shoko’s jaw drops to the floor—maybe almost literally with how shocked her entire being seems to be. “no way. you got the y/n writing for you now? what does it say?”

satoru finally snaps out of it, grumbling incoherently as he snatches the paper right back.

getou grins. “he’s blushing.”

shoko gapes once again. “he’s blushing!” she exclaims.

satoru splutters, still strangely silent, and tries to cover his warm face with his hand. it doesn’t work. his red ears are showing.

[sixosix]

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔: 𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

( ! ) an accidental date with satoru himself doesn’t turn out to be so bad, you suppose.

( ? ) just movie date shenanigans. shoko and suguru were definitely in on this btw. fluff! to make up for the angst oneshot:( gojo is WHIPPED

you skip down the flight of stairs with a happy tune hummed under your breath. the happy flutter in your chest has been quivering since you woke up this lovely morning, most likely the product of wonderful sleep, or the excitement of today.

not even the shrill of your alarm could keep the smile off your face, and that alone says more than words could.

today is a good day, is the only thought that comes across your mind as you prepare breakfast for yourself. you leave some in case shoko decides to come by early.

the humming doesn’t stop, even as you finish your food before shoko arrives—you don’t let it bother you, simply content with the blissful feeling of joy that you rarely experience.

the knock sounds a few seconds later as you muse over what to wear for today. a day out with your best friend calls for something simple and sweet to match her sleek clothes. unless shoko decides to just pull on a large sweater and call it a day—which you wouldn’t mind either.

“coming!” you call out, grinning helplessly as you bound over to the front door.

how long has it been since you had a break away from school? you wouldn’t be surprised if the calendar reveals 365 days and more—it certainly feels like it is.

the door opens. your smile falls.

you blink, and still, the man with the stupid white hair and devastating eyes stands before you.

no, wait, he probably has the wrong house, right?

“hey, y/n,” satoru grins, and apparently not.

you grit your teeth, the beginnings of a headache making itself known with only half a second of seeing his face. “what,” you hiss, “are you doing here, gojo?”

“can’t i visit a good friend of mine on such a lovely day?” satoru muses, and ducks underneath your arm to enter your home. he pointedly ignores the heated glare you’re drilling onto his head.

“hearing it come out of your mouth makes it even less believable,” you deadpan, slamming the door shut—kicking out a gojo with a goal in mind might as well be like talking to a brick wall.

it’s not often gojo goes out of his way to visit you. shoko holds that role, and geto sometimes does it because you two are well acquainted enough.

gojo satoru starts with lingering glances on school grounds and usually ends there. sometimes—and honestly, it’s a stroke of luck—you barely talk to him at all.

which brings the question: “what happened to shoko?”

gojo sighs, exaggerating everything with his slumped shoulders and defeated pout. “nothing escapes you, does it?” at your impatient glare, he lifts his hands placidly in surrender. “shoko had to attend a meeting with another student. yaga denied her permission to ditch this one, so she asked me, of course, to come here!”

“did she really ask you first?”

gojo laughs, making himself comfortable on your couch. he slings both his arms over the top, looking too much at home for a place he only visited once—and that barely counted because gojo just stood outside waiting for you to retrieve something.

“okay, maybe suguru was informed first, but details don’t matter right now!” he pats the spot beside him as if to coax you. you don’t even bat an eye and choose to keep yourself at a safe distance.

it wasn’t like you could even get close to him even if you tried. quite literally.

you make a face. “don’t tell me…”

“shoko asked me if i can accompany you to the movie you two were supposed to see!” gojo beams.

“what? no, shoko paid for the tickets—”

“and you want to waste shoko’s money like that? it’s showing today, isn't it?” the grin he flashes is knowing, because he’s already got you where he wants you and you both know it.

“...at least you aren’t wearing something flashy,” you mutter in defeat.

gojo beams brighter if it was even possible. “i wouldn’t complain if you still wear something cute!”

you flip him off and stomp your way to your bedroom.

the theaters are quite crowded, but there don’t seem to be traces of threatening curses you and gojo would need to take care of. which is a bit unfortunate, since you were hoping for a bit of a distraction before either of you proceed with this… date.

you spare a glance to the man beside you, walking in long strides with his frustratingly lanky legs. at least one of you is having fun.

surprisingly, despite gojo taking advantage of a free ticket, he insisted on paying for everything else. you aren’t one to complain when being spoiled, so you let him. he seems happy to do so anyway, so you don’t feel as bad milking him for all his wallet’s worth.

“hm… this one’s about a boy losing his childhood friend?” gojo ponders aloud as he surveys the poster plastered on the wall before the theater. “i think i see where this is going. i bet—”

you smack his mouth with your palm, narrowed eyes affixed on surprised blue. “don’t you dare spoil anything before we even sit down.”

unfortunately, you feel something wet and warm on your hand, and it takes you three seconds to realize that he quite literally licked your palm. appalled beyond belief, you withdraw your hand and gape at your assaulted skin.

“you taste like popcorn,” gojo comments, amused with your aghast expression. “hey, don’t tell me you already snuck in a few bites before we even sat down.”

you splutter, face warm with embarrassment. “i—i didn’t— no, why the hell did you lick me!? you’re disgusting, gojo!”

he laughs, all too delighted. “how did you even know i was going to say something about the plot? am i too predictable for you now?”

“you always do that whenever we watch something with the others,” you grumble, and belatedly recognize that you probably pay a bit too much attention to him for you to notice that. “just because i don’t have six of them, doesn’t mean i don’t have eyes.”

“i cede. i cede,” gojo chuckles. “i solemnly swear to zip my mouth for you to enjoy the movie, your highness.”

“good. if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right, got that?”

you really don’t understand how gojo’s face isn’t aching with how wide he’s been smiling for so long—then again, you doubt he even realizes that. “of course.”

you have a feeling he’s enjoying this too much and you should question him, but a day off is a day off. you’d hate to waste it.

he kicks open the door with his legs, both of his hands too busy carrying everything else that you didn’t want to. “after you!” he chirps, and you play along, thanking him.

you miss the way his smile softens as you walk forward, blissful with the atmosphere of the theater.

you hate to admit it, but this was possibly the most fun you had on a movie date. (not date. platonic hangout between two friends, platonically.)

it was quiet for the first few minutes, save for the munching of popcorn courtesy of the both of you, and the hushed chattering of the people beside you. the movie starts off slow and you were drifting off to wonder why your heart is pounding so loudly.

is there a curse here? did you eat something that expired earlier?

gojo—because nothing escapes him—notices this and prompts conversation, starting off silly by pointing out details that you think you wouldn’t even notice had he not said it first. his passion for films seems to come out the more he speaks, and he rambles and talks—but even more surprising than this is that you’re too in awe to stop him.

some people glare and throw disgruntled glances, but you’re too busy laughing as he mocks characters on the screen before the both of you.

you don’t even notice the way your hand brushes against his every time you both reach for food. you don’t notice that you two have slowly gravitated towards each other the more you two continue the conversation.

he still ended up spoiling the ending because you two were talking about obvious plot details that gojo seems to have a keen eye for. but you find that you don’t mind as much, because gojo is actually pretty cute when he brightens.

“you were right,” you were reluctant to admit, as the main character does in fact reunite with his long-lost childhood friend.

gojo grins, pinching your cheek softly while you grumble. “i hate to say it, but: told you so!”

“i didn’t think you’d get it because you said it at the start of the movie!”

he laughs, “don’t doubt me next time.”

next time, you echo, looking up at him as everyone else in the room starts to stand up and leave their seats. you almost forgot that this is the first time you’ve even done this with him.

it just felt too… natural. like it happened every day.

“that was…alright, i guess,” you tell him, and you notice your heart is doing that weird thing again.

gojo smiles. “i agree.”

gojo’s phone vibrates, and both of you read the text that geto sent. it read: sorry satoru. can’t go out today. invite someone else in my stead.

“hmm,” gojo hums, side-eyeing you with a smile too cheeky.

you huff, but unable to keep the smile off your face. “i guess i have to repay the favor, don’t i?”

today is a good day, you suppose.

[sixosix]

gojo satoru is the type to grab you when you’re near then twirl you around and dip you. and then he makes you do it to him too. in front of his students.