#suguru geto fanfiction

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

❝ BEING PROF. GETO'S T.A. IS SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part two of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you're now professor geto's t.a. for the semester, forced to spend time with the man that you so desperately want, either of you barely able to hold back when you're around the other, so what happens when you're forced to go to a conference with him...and there's only one bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, so much mutual pining, bed sharing, cuddling, masturbation (f + m), oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), semi public sex (sorta), office sex (kinda), amateur's take on moral philosophy and ethics, art by @/nino84391425

✧ wc: 16,821 (apparently i am writing a novel lol) | part one | part three | part four

“On time for once?” Professor Suguru Geto remarks without looking up from his notes on the podium, even as your footsteps echo in the empty lecture hall, “color me surprised,” 

“Couldn’t be late on my first day as a teacher’s assistant, now could I?” and his lips curl in that damnable smile, as he finally glances up from his notes to see you looking far too gorgeous in his button up — one you had oh so generously relieved him of last night, pilfered away in your bag seemingly. 

“But you could be late on your first day as a student?” and you lick your lips, as you draw closer to him, “seems like you’re quite the hypocrite, not very ethical,” 

“Don’t think what we did last night was very ethical either,” you murmur, enjoying the way his dark eyes glaze over for a moment with the thoughts what you both did — the places touched, the moans heard, and the pleasure had — “plus, I definitely have an incentive to be on time now,” your fingers graze his, and why does his touch always feel like coming home. 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand against your cheek. 

“Your gorgeous face,” you smile, leaning close as your lips brush, “and some stolen kisses before class,” 

“And what makes you think you’ve earned them, my favorite student?” He teases, as his fingers slide to the back of your neck, and his other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you close. 

“Oh, I have a few ways to earn them, Professor,” your fingers drag down his chest, “but I don’t know if we have the time before class to—“ 

And his lips find yours — needy and bruising, as your fingers clutch at his shirt, the pressed fabric now definitely creased under your touch, “we’ll make time,” he murmurs, as he leans back to drag his thumb down your plush lips, “I still have many things to teach you, and what time is there like the present?” 

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips— 

RING. RING. RING. 

Your eyes snap open, a groan crawls its way out of your throat, as you fumble for your phone to silence the dreaded ringing. You lie back on your bed, a distinct ache between your legs that makes you squirm, and only want to bury yourself back into your bed and possibly the reality that existed within only your dreams. 

But this was sadly reality, and you had about two hours before your first class as a teacher’s assistant for Professor Suguru Geto’s ethics and moral philosophy class. And two hours before you would see Professor Geto for the first time since you had made out. 

You turn over, pressing your face into your pillow. You wondered if you tried hard enough, if you could suffocate yourself before then. 

Probably not. That would be far too lucky. 

~~~

Professor Suguru Geto couldn’t sleep — instead he spent his time staring at his ceiling, the blades of his fans spinning above him, just like his mind was — in circles. It was as if he almost didn’t want to risk his dreams taunting him, it was the same reason he had buried himself in research over the semester break, the same reason he had put off emailing you the materials for the semester, and the same reason he hadn’t seen you since that day you had kissed. 

It was too much of a risk. 

You were risk personified, even for a risk averse theologian he liked to think himself as. But you were the thing of myths, the dangled food for Tantalus, the far too warm sun for Icarus, and the promise of gold for King Midas. But you were not a myth — you were real, his student made of flesh and bone, the same flesh he had pressed into his desk just a few short weeks ago, his legs parting your thighs, his fingers itching to rip your pantyhose off your legs— 

He sighed, this wasn’t helping — his bedside clock blinked back at him mockingly — he only had a few hours before his first class. He should try to sleep even a little. So he did, shutting his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream of you. 

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky. 

How many times have you stood in front of this office door? Your Professor, to which this office belongs, would joke that it was far too many to count — and you’d be better speculating how many times that Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the same hill. But the last time you had been in it was the thing that made you hesitate now. 

But that was your entire relationship wasn’t it? A game of chicken, wondering who would hesitate first — and neither of you were the type to hold back. Except when it came to this — except when it came to your feelings for the other. 

You shake your head, trying to shake your anxious thoughts free of their eternal bounce around your skull, and grit your teeth before finally knocking. 

“I’m actually right here,” a voice behind you says, making you jump, as you whip around, nearly pressed against his office door. And now you stood face to face with the man who owned it.

And how was it that every time you saw him, he was achingly more perfect than the time before? His ebony hair was half down, black locks brushing against his shoulders, the rest tied up in a neat bun. A crisp white button up underneath a neutral toned knit sweater vest, the shirt very much like the one you had stolen in your dream. 

Perfect. 

“Professor Geto,” you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of drifting over his form, “it’s good to see you,” 

“It’s good to see you as well, and so prompt,” he says, brushing past you to unlock his office, “made a habit of being on time these days?” 

“Well, when your professor reprimands you in front of the entire class, you try to make a habit of being on time,” why did it feel like your dream was repeating yet again? It’s not as if your relationship with him wasn’t cyclical enough — life imitating dreams was almost far too much. He opens the door for you, letting you enter first, before he follows you in, “and aren’t you the late one this time?” 

His lips quirk, as he rounds his desk, and takes a seat, “You really can’t make it a conversation with me without giving me shit, huh?” 

“Language,” you chide, as you sit across from him, “not very appropriate for an academic setting,” and you have to bite back the want to say that you’ve done plenty of inappropriate things in this office the last time you both were here. 

“Well, our track record isn’t known for being very appropriate, now is it?” Or maybe you didn’t need to say it, because the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. But that didn’t mean either of you would act on it. He licked his lips, mouth parted to say something, his gaze heavy. 

And the moment is broken when his email goes off — you squeeze your bag a little tighter, as you busy yourself with digging through your bag for the materials to go over. That sound was nearly traumatizing in this office, not only did it usually signal the start of some assignment you had to trudge your way through — it also was the sound that had ended your relationship before it even really began. 

“Class starts in an hour, so I thought we could have this meeting just to review the syllabus and see if you have any questions — as well as just overall any questions you had about being a T.A.,” he explains, pressing his pen to his lips, “I understand this is your first time being a T.A.?” 

“It is, I hadn’t really considered it until the department head approached me about that,” and he nods, a flash of emotion that surfaces for only a moment before dissipating, “what will my responsibilities be?” 

“Good question,” a smile pulls the corners of his lips, “obviously, as a T.A., you will have office hours that you can decide with your own discretion—” 

“So it’s okay if I have them once a month at 3:00 AM?” and he rolls his eyes as you bite your lip at the sight — why was everything he did so effortlessly attractive? 

Fucking unfair. 

“Witching hour, how apt,” he murmurs, as he tilts his head, “but they should be weekly, as I’m sure you know, and held not in the middle of the night, when nights should be used for other things,” and you have to bite back your reply, like what? 

And then he continues to explain, “You can also help with some grading — mostly entering grades online for me since you know I love to handgrade,” 

“Oh yes, truly enjoyed having my self-esteem cut to shreds after receiving a paper back,” you scribbled notes down in your notebook, “glad I won’t be on the receiving end this time,” 

“If you’re good, that is,” and you knew it slipped from his lips — from the way his lips parted, the way his body froze for half a second as if he had shocked himself — and he had, because the spark between you two remained, a weed stubbornly cracking through concrete, “sorry—’ 

“You don’t have apologize,” you shake your head, waving him off, “it’s really fine,” 

“It’s not,” he said softly, placing the syllabus down on the desk, “I know we agreed to keep our relationship professional,” 

“We did,” Yes, you both did — sort of. 

“And I want us to do that—” 

And you ask the question you weren’t brave enough to ask the last time you two had seen each other, “Why is that again?” 

When the email had come, it was as if a spell had broken — the rosy colored lenses had come off, only to leave the hard glare of reality behind. Your limbs still entangled while you both reread the email off of his screen — as if it would say something different the millionth time over. 

It didn’t. 

And then the awkward clamor of disengaging, slow limbs pulling apart, as the warmth of his embrace left as quickly as it had come. Silence as the two of you let the news settle in, like a noose tightening around your necks, and you slowly slid off his desk. 

“If I’m your T.A.,” you had said slowly, adjusting the skirt of your dress, “we can’t do this, can we?” and he had only nodded, his gaze unable meet yours, fixed to the rug on the floor of his office, and he could only muster two words as you brushed past him and gathered your things—

“I’m sorry.” 

But even so, you couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea? Why was it so wrong for the two of you to do this? What difference did it make that you were his T.A.? It was still against the rules either way — it was still unethical either way — so why, why did it matter? 

But he knew why, from the way his brow creased with lines and his lips pursed and the way his eyes yet again couldn’t quite reach yours — as if you’d spot something in them that he didn’t want to see. 

“Because we’re going to working together all semester long, with students in class who will see us each week,” he licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, “because it was already problematic if we saw each other without any classes or connection, but now — if you’re my T.A. and my girlfriend, how would I even properly supervise you?” and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he blows air through his teeth, before his voice grows softer, “how would I focus on guiding you and our students if I’m too busy gazing into your eyes or staring at your lips or wanting to—” he cuts himself off, “you know it’s not a good idea,  most of our students probably wouldn’t notice, but rumors spread and it takes one good rumor to ruin your career,” and he adds, “with how things work, you don’t need me to tell you why it would be worse for you than me, even if I tried to take responsibility,” 

And you did know, knew very well that rumors got out that the two of you were together that nothing would happen to his reputation — perhaps he would be scrutinized a bit more, some judgment and side-eye from other professors and higher ups, but he wouldn’t get vilified like you would. Called a slut or a whore — and those would be some of the kinder names you’d be called, and you can’t imagine what it would do for your career, especially if you stay in academia. And then the rumors would fester and grow, more wondering where your grades came from — whether you had obtained them through honeyed words whispered over pillows and rumpled sheets instead through late nights spent at your desk and weekends practically living at the library. 

“I do know,” you said quietly. But it didn’t mean you wanted to do it anymore than you had that day. A part of you wished he had stopped you when you had turned to leave his office, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into his arms—but this was hardly a romance novel, “and you’re right,” 

He still has his gaze fixed anywhere but your face, settling his syllabus on his desk now, the silence familiarly filling the room yet again, muscles tense if your body didn’t know whether to flee or to draw closer. 

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence. 

“So would T.A.-ing provide an opportunity for me to teach the class?” and he blinks, eyes snapping up now, as a glimpse of sadness slips away behind his now thoughtful expression. 

“Would you want to do that? I don’t know if I could allow you to lead an entire class, only because some students may take some issue with another grad student teaching them—” 

“I don’t blame them with the tuition costs,” you mutter, and he nods, “don’t nod, it’s your salary I’m paying for,” 

He laughs, a noise you wished you could bottle because you knew it’d be the same as bottling happiness, ���Well worth your money after how much your writing and understanding of moral philosophy and ethics has improved,” and you roll your eyes. 

“I see your ego is the same as ever,” and his lips curl, as he crosses his legs, and you fight the cruel temptation of your gaze flickering a little downward. 

“Well, Kant did say an ego is necessary to understand the world meaningfully and therefore act in a moral way,”  you tilt your head, being defensive with philosophy? That was a new one. 

But you weren’t one to let things go — as he very well knew. 

“And he also said that an ego can lead you astray from living a moral life if we become too self absorbed,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you calling me self absorbed?” 

You bite back a laugh, “Well, you are certainly self interested,” and you gesture around his office, “look at this office,” 

“What about my office?” he gapes at you, and you snort, you’ve seemingly struck a nerve by how wide his jaw dropped. 

“It’s a little…pretentious,” and dare you say it, your professor had a touch of pink painted across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, 

God he’s even pretty when he blushes. 

“I’m just teasing Professor,” and then you add, “it’s one of my more tedious qualities,” 

And he blinks, before his lips curl in the smile you never tired of seeing, “not tedious, more irritating,” 

You chuckle, before trying to get back on topic, “So you think you could work out me teaching a part of the class?” 

And he nods, “Let me discuss it with the department head — it should be fine,”

“Do I have any other responsibilities?” 

“If it doesn’t conflict with your schedule, you can also attend some classes, students can stay after and ask you questions as well,” and you nod, looking over his class times in the syllabus. 

“I can make the Tuesday one,” and he makes a note, as you rise, “we should go. Don’t want to be late for the first class now do we?” 

And he smiles the same damnable smile, “That would be a terrible first impression,” and his shoulder brushes yours as he opens his office door for you, “after you,” 

God, you thought as you stepped past him, the warmth from the brush of his body still there, this was going to be a long semester. 

If there was one thing you had learned from being a teacher’s assistant for Professor Geto’s class, it was that the students were even more desperate for your professor’s attention than you had thought. You thought your introduction had went relatively well — besides the pointed glares of several….enthusiastic students. 

After his detailed overview of the class, he reaches the resources section of the course syllabus, “Now, I am available at my listed office hours, in which you can make an appointment online. There’s also tutoring services through the university listed as well. And lastly, we have a T.A. for this class, for the very first time,” and he smiles, “Class, please meet your T.A. for this semester,” Professor Geto says your name and gestures to you, sat up in the corner of the lecture hall, and you stand, waving, “your T.A. took this very class last semester and showed great grit and dedication in the class assignments,” you have to stop yourself from shooting him a look, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips, “She is also a philosophy student, so please, feel free to reach out to her,” 

“Thank you Professor Geto for that…generous introduction,” your pause was slight enough that he caught it, a smile tucked behind an all too fake cough, “I really look forward to working with you all — this class truly had a great impact on my perspective about the world,” and you catch a flicker of an emotion ripple across his face out of the corner of your eye, “my office hours will be posted soon, and I hope we can get to know each other well over the course of this semester.” 

You sit as the students cast their gaze forward again, and the class continues on as usual. You make use of your time by reading for some of your other classes, until class was over. 

And that’s when you really learned something. As requested, you joined Professor Geto at the bottom of the lecture hall to help field questions from the students. 

Except, the students were far more interested in Professor Geto than they were in the course material. 

But maybe it was simply because it was the beginning of the semester right? It couldn’t happen again right? 

It was a good thing you weren’t getting graded because you would earned yourself a zero. As again, the next week, students were only interested in Professor Geto — whether it was because it was for his intellect or — you glanced at the students mooning over him — something else. 

Something you knew very well. 

You were forced to watch a female student flutter her eyelashes, then another brush against him, as she showed him what passage was confusing her, and then another student couldn’t stop staring at his lips. And then you wonder, if it had been another student who kept pestering him week after week, would it have been them instead of you? Would they have shared those moments together? Maybe even they would actually gotten to be in a relationship, instead of watching other people flirt with him—

“Excuse me,” your eyes snap up from your reverie and you see two students, seemingly waiting to speak to you. 

Those students had seemingly taken pity on you and spoke to you about the class, tips, and asked about your office hours. But soon enough, the students filed out one by one until it was just you and Professor Geto. And he’s collecting his things, as he glances at you, lingering still as you check your email on your phone, “Don’t you have class after this?” 

You blink, “how’d you know that?” 

And he’s straightening his notes to place back in his bag, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, “well you’d always rush off after class so it was either you had class or you didn’t want to be alone with me,” he looks back to his bag and you hear the click of the zipper, “I was hoping it would be the former,” he adds. 

“Well, I never lingered after class when I was taking it either,” you adjust your bag, toying with the strap — why was it anytime you were with him it felt like stepping into quicksand, the more you struggled, the more you sunk — and even if you didn’t move at all, you were still stuck all the same, “didn’t want to get in the way your students stroking your ego,” 

And he raises an eyebrow, “Are we back to my ego again?” 

“I don’t see you shying away from smiles and praise from your students,” and his brow knits together, as he places his bag down on the podium, “no wonder your ego is so large,” 

“What students?” 

“Oh please, the ones swarming your desk after clsss. Didn’t you ever wonder why so many students from different disciplines take your class?” he opens his mouth and then you add, “and don’t say philosophy and ethics apply to every aspect of life,” 

And then he seems to consider the thought, as before his lips curl, as he leans against the podium. 

“Am I detecting some jealousy?” he smirks, and you pause before you scoff — far too quickly. 

“No,” and he only smiles wider. 

He chuckles, “That was convincing. I’m glad your ability to teach is much better than your ability to lie,” 

“I’m not—“ 

“Jealous or not,” and you have to bite back your retort, his gaze freezing you in place, a softness you hated to see — because you didnt know whether it made you want to push him away or pull him close, “there’s only ever been one student who caught my eyes,” 

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again. 

“Really?” you mumble, crossing your arms, “not even one other? You have a habit of unethical behavior for an ethics professor,” 

He’s grabbing his bag, before he’s taking a step forward to whisper, “Only when it comes to you,” and you have to force yourself not shiver at his words warming your skin, “I’ll see you next week,” 

And he’s gone — as you stand in the empty lecture hall next to the podium, the very one from your first dream— and you’re right back where you started. 

Professor Suguru Geto wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was always meticulous and methodical — he used the very principles to help guide his life — because it gave him a moral framework, a way to interpret the world and his own actions. That’s what had drawn him to ethics in the first place. But then he met you. 

And it seems like he’s made nothing but mistakes since. 

He sat in his office after he practically fled the classroom, forcing his pace to be normal, hoping you didn’t see the flush on his face. Fuck, he tossed the pen he had picked up to start grading away, what was he doing? 

He had told himself it was for the best — again and again when he watches you leave at the end of the last semester. He held his muscles taut as he watched you gather your things, stepping over the crushed pieces of both of your hearts. The two words he had barely choked were the only ones he could manage before he watched his office door shut behind you. 

It was for the best. It was for the best. It was for the best. 

That sentence was on repeat in his mind as he tried to work on his paper over the break — “try” being the operative word. It felt as if even his work hadn't been untouched by you — your impact widespread and all consuming — just as your actual touch was. 

Fuck, he rakes his fingers through his hair, how was he going to survive this week much less this semester? 

He couldn’t afford to be selfish — for your sake and his own. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. He runs a hand over his face — he all but blatantly admitted that he had feelings for you after class. After promising to keep things professional — he was the worst. 

He only wished he was worse enough to do what you both wanted when you asked him in his office why you both couldn’t be together. He wanted to tell you the reasons why you should be — because he couldn’t stop thinking about you despite never seeing you over the break, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you standing in front of his office, and because he couldn’t help but smile when he could see you hesitating in front of the door — but he couldn’t help but smile when it came to you. But he didn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

But he also couldn’t help but toe that damn line in the sand, the one that he had drawn, but the one so desperately wanted to cross. 

And then there was a knock at his door, he sighs, “Come in,” 

The department head enters his office, as Suguru blinks before he gets to his feet to offer his hand, as they exchange greetings, before gesturing for him to sit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I saw your email about having your T.A. teach part of your class, and I wanted to get a little more detail about it,” Suguru nods, his face composed, but his body tense — paranoia scratching at the back of his mind, no one happened to see them kiss had they? No one was on campus really at that point. And the door was closed — he probably just wanted more information.  

“What questions did you have?” and the department head runs down his list — what topic would you cover? How much class time would it take? Would he be asking the class first? Would he review your materials beforehand? 

“Well, you both seemed to have thought a lot about this,” he leans back, crossing his leg over the other, “I think having her teach a part of a class is fine, but I would like you both to do it sooner rather than later,” and Suguru opens his mouth, but then he adds, “and I’d like to attend that class,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “You would like to attend my class?” He considers his words carefully, “I was under the impression, based on the rules, the only thing needed to allow a T.A. to teach was the approval of the department head,” his anxiety begins to pick away at his nerves, “it’s not unusual for a T.A. to teach here correct?” 

It was his first time having a teacher’s assistant at this university so perhaps this was a quality check? To ensure both you and him were meeting the standards of the university — and his anxiety added, and to make sure no rules were being broken by either of you. 

“Yes, it’s not unusual, and I have my reasons which I’ll discuss with you after the class,” he checks the time and rises from his seat now, “I have another meeting soon — do you think she can present in two weeks?” 

Suguru hesitates, “I’ll have to ask her but most likely that should be fine,” 

“Okay please send an email cc’ing her and confirm the details,” he says his goodbyes, and he’s gone, as Suguru sits and considers this — what could he be planning? 

Or, his nerves add, what could he be looking for? 

Either way, he pulled up your email — it was going to be an interesting two weeks. 

“Deontology determines whether an action is right or wrong based on a set of rules and principles instead of the consequences of the actions,” you speak to an empty lecture hall, your voice echoing in the silence, “therefore an act that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” 

You had come into the lecture hall to practice yet again this week. You were cursing your past self for inflicting this optional task on yourself — it had taken far more time than you had expected (what’s new?), taken far more preparation than you thought (again, of course), and now had the fun added pressure of the department head attending. And why was he attending? A wonderful and complete mystery. 

The last two weeks have been amazing for your mental health, truly. 

You were lucky the lecture hall and the building at large was deserted at 8:00 PM — all of the staff and students had all but fled, and you were left with the perfect place to practice. It had been many nights of honing your presentation to the allotted time, leaving time to pose a thought exercise, time to discuss, and for questions. 

You don’t see the door behind you open, nor do you hear it close, as you use the clicker to go through your PowerPoint, switching to the next slide. 

“For example, killing an intruder, based on the consequence would be wrong, as I hope we all know killing is wrong — otherwise, I worry about what will happen when you get your grades back,” you give a brief chuckle — and hope some of the students would pity you with some laughs, and that’s when you hear a small laugh behind you. 

Your head snaps around, flushing when you see Professor Geto standing by the door. He’s wearing a deep royal purple button up and gray slacks, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms. 

God, this wasn’t a dream was it? 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, his footsteps against the floor grew closer, and your body tenses, until they stop, “go on,” and he leans against the wall behind you. 

“But when you do kill an intruder to protect your family, that’s viewed as right under deontology,” and you can’t focus with his gaze running over you, an all familiar feeling settled over you. Would life imitate dreams again? Would he come over and ask you to continue your presentation as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder? Would he— 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you can’t meet his gaze, but you hear his footsteps, “should I go?” 

“No, no, it’s just,” you shake your head, “a little deja vu,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?” 

Your blood runs cold. Fuck. 

“I don’t recall you ever presenting like this in my clsss before,” you can't decide if his voice is more thick with confusion or curiosity. 

“Yeah, no, sorry it’s nothing,” you brush him off, your eyes fixed on your notes on the podium, and you know he’s still staring, “what?” 

“I see you’re still not a very good liar,” and you scoff, “what is it that’s gotten you so bothered?” 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“The more you say that, the less I’m convinced,” and now he’s walking closer, closer still — but you’re fixed in place, “what is it?”

“You never let anything go, do you?” And you turn, your breath catching when you saw how close he was — inches from you, his pretty eyes wide at the sudden movement, his breath warming your lips. Black strands fall in his face, and you have to stop yourself from tucking them behind his ear. Stop yourself from wanting to touch him, stop yourself from wanting him to lean forward, stop yourself from wanting him. 

Nothing good ever came from your want. 

“Only when it’s you,” but this man makes it impossible not to want him. Not when his voice is soft, not when the back of his finger, a knuckle brushes against your cheek. And no words are needed — you can hear it in the silence between you both, you feel it in the gentleness of his touch, and in the softness of his gaze. 

And you know you’re in love with him. You are.

But you can’t be. 

“I’m not telling you,” you murmur, looking away — and it seems to break the spell, as he steps back, nodding, a flicker of sadness that slips away under his facade,  “but maybe I will sometime, over a drink,” you add. 

A smile tugs at his lips, “Well we know how well that went, or didn’t go rather, and you know, we can’t anytime soon,” 

“Well sometimes an action that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Using deontology to convince me?” He tilts his head, “not a bad strategy — maybe I’ll have you write a paper,” 

“And willingly subject myself to your red pen? No thanks,” and he snorts, before the smile fades into a frown, brow wrinkled in thought, “what is it?” 

“Nothing, I’m just…” he crossss his arms, “I’m wondering why the department head wants to observe your presentation,” 

“He didn’t give any indication why?” and he shakes his head, “maybe he just wants to evaluate how good a job you’re doing,” you add, “you are relatively green,” 

“Not that green,” and you see his lips pressed together — and is he? — he was — he was pouting. You bite your lip how fucking adorable — but you know you’d be met with a scowl if you said that out loud, “don’t you worry that the dean may suspect something between us?” 

The thought had crossed your mind, but class had been nothing but professional so far, and you’d be too busy sweating bullets (and perhaps dodging them from the students if the presentation went poorly) to even consider your feelings for him. 

You sigh, “Look, nothing to do but get through it, right? It should be fine, we’ll deal with whatever comes after. As long as I don’t choke, and you don’t stare at me too adoringly, we should be fine,” 

And you expect a retort, a cheeky reply, or even a quite sarcastic one, but he only gives a small smile, “Right,”

You feel your cheeks burn and you can’t meet his gaze again without feeling your heart flutter. 

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about. 

Despite the concerns, the presentation goes off without a hitch. You spot the dean sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, pen and notepad in hand, which did nothing to soothe your poor heart (nor did the far too many cups of coffee and the total lack of sleep). 

It happened quick — a blur of speaking, forcing yourself to slow your words down, a necessity when presenting — as you knew you always spoke faster than you believed you did when presenting. You think you even made the students laugh a few times, led an interesting thought experiment with a rousing debate that ended with no clear answer (as always), and then you answered questions. 

All the while, Professor Geto stood in the back, and you’d catch a glimpse of him by the corner of your eye, his lips curled in that smile that haunted all your nights and days. 

By the time it was done, you had barely realized time had gone so quickly, as you passed the metaphorical baton back to Geto. And you took a seat off to the side, opting to watch him lecture, rather than busy yourself with other work. 

It felt like old times, you thought, as you watched him speak. You couldn’t blame the people that took his class just to watch him speak — he was unfairly beautiful when he spoke, gesticulating as he read a Kant quote. And you kept your face as neutral as possible, but he catches your eye for a moment, corner of his lip twitching upwards. And a flush settles over your cheeks, as you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to look suddenly engrossed with your notebook. 

Your heart ached as much as your body did. You wanted to walk over and just kiss him, swallow his smart words along with his gasp, and feel those hands run along your body. You wanted to know every thought in his head, every part of his day, and fall asleep beside him. 

You glance up to see him still speaking — a black strand falling in his face. You bite your lip, before looking back down. 

This man would be the death of you — and it was even worse being alone with him. You’re thankful that your T.A. check-ins with him were every other week, because you couldn’t imagine having to spend more than an hour with him every other week. 

“You want us to do what?” You blink at the Dean, his lips curled in a smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Apologies for all the secrecy, I did not receive confirmation about this until earlier today,” he explains, “but I want you two to attend this conference on ethics and philosophy  — it’s over the weekend, two weekends from now. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the both of you to make connections and attend presentations, as well as mingle with prospective students. It would also afford us an opportunity for both of you to help put our university on the map,” 

You glance at Professor Geto, his lips parted in surprise, “Sir, is it appropriate for a male professor and a—“ 

“Don’t worry, the accommodations will be separate and it’s a public event, as long as everything remains professional, there’s no problem, right? As long as you two are okay with it and there’s no problem,” he glances between the two of you, “is there a problem?” 

And Professor Geto’s eyebrows knit together. It was a lose-lose situation — saying no meant raising some suspicions that there was an issue between the two of you, but saying yes meant going on a trip with the same professor you had kissed at the end of the last semester. And if anything happened on this trip...it could be very bad — ethically and otherwise. 

So you make the decision for both of you. 

“That’s fine. I’m happy to attend if Professor Geto is,” and you know you have no choice — you had to spend the weekend with him, alone. At a conference. In a hotel.

“Do you have everything?” Professor Geto asks, as you hand him your suitcase, your fingers brushing as you do.  He lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car, his black t-shirt riding up as he does, a quick flash of the expanse of his muscles—

Fuck, you bite your lip, stop, stop. Professor. He’s a professor. 

It didn’t matter that you had felt him part your thighs, as his lips slid against yours, nor that every time you saw each other, you felt this undeniable ache to touch him, comfort him, hug him, nor that you knew he felt the same and wanted to give in as badly as you did—

No, it didn’t matter. 

You consider his question, scrunching up your face in thought, “I think so, wait,” you snap your fingers as he glances at you, “forgot the rest of my apartment upstairs — you think that’ll fit in there too?” 

He smirks, rolling his eyes as shuts the trunk, “Ha, ha, ever consider becoming a comedian instead of a philosophy major?”

“Every day, but then I think what would my favorite professor do without me?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m your favorite?” 

“Who said it was you?” you grin at him, as he shakes his head and you open the passenger door seat and slide in, as he slips into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors, buckling his seatbelt, as a sudden wave of guilt bombards you. You had dragged him down this rabbit hole with you — and now the two of you had to spend the entire weekend together, alone. 

You lick your far too dry lips, “Sorry if I roped you into this,” you fidget with your phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly. 

He starts the car, engine roaring underneath your feet, before he glances at you, brow furrowed in seeming confusion, “What? It’s not you that roped us into this,” 

You purse your lips, “But if I didn’t agree to it—“ 

He sighs, “We were in a position where we didn’t have much of a choice,” his fingers drum against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker to make sure your seatbelt was on, “it’s not your fault — and it’s not a bad thing — we’ll spend time at the conference, we’ll mingle, and then return to our hotel rooms,” he adds, “don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” 

And his reassurance is almost a punch to the gut instead — and your brain chides you for being so childish — you knew it was for the best, you knew it was the right thing to do, and you knew he was trying what was best for you, and for him. 

But why did it hurt so goddamn much? 

You steal a glance at him as he pulls into the street and begins to drive, dark gaze forward, his hair tied into its usual neat bun, and a chain poked out from underneath the rounded opening around his neck. And then your eyes flicker back out the window.  

Was it really not a big deal to him? 

Because the last two weeks were consumed with nothing, but thoughts of being alone with him. Days spent in conferences, sitting beside each other, whispering thoughts and inside jokes; evenings spent socializing together, waiting for the other to give the signal to leave; and nights walking back to your rooms, fingers brushing as you walked beside each other. You were sure it would take a slight bend of the rules, a gaze that lingers a little too long, to break the paper thin resistance either of you had to the other. The two of you could barely be alone for more than a few minutes without temptation rearing its ugly head — even now your eyes can’t help but trace the curve of his jaw, the way the sunlight catches his eyes, the way your fingers want nothing more than intertwine with his hand that rests on the console between you two. 

But you don’t. You give a weak smile, glancing out the window as the streets of Tokyo pass you by — “Yeah it should be fine.” 

Just fine. 

“There was a problem with your reservation,” 

And after half an hour of waiting off to the side, with your luggage stacked up and irritation creeping its way to a new high as you watched others easily being checked in to the hotel, you assumed there was a problem. If there wasn’t a problem, you would wonder if this was a new take on Waiting for Godot that would end with the both of youu sleeping in the lobby. You rubbed at your temples, as Geto dealt with the hotel staff, his arms crossed, lips a tight line, “the hotel double booked one of your rooms, so we only have one room available for you.”  

You barely heard the rest of the argument your professor had with the hotel staff, the same phrase ringing in your ears — one room, one room, one room. With nothing more to argue about, they finally escorted you both to your room in awkward silence. And as they opened the door, you spotted it — there was only one single queen sized bed. 

One. Bed. 

You felt your cheeks flush, as you couldn’t even meet Geto’s eyes, as he began to speak heatedly with the manager again. And the excuses began, as the manager wrung his hands, about how no other rooms being available due to the conference and another event happening in town. 

“There is a couch though,” he offers,  pointing to a far too small couch, and the sharp glare that Geto gave him would put even his red pen to shame, “we will see about comping half—“ Geto crosses his arms, “all of your stay here,” and with that, he’s gone. 

“So,” you sigh, glancing at Geto, with a strained smile, “I have dibs on the bed?” 

Was this a cosmic joke? You wondered as you turned off the water of the shower, squeezing your eyes shut. Was this a version of ethical karma for what you had done last semester? An ultimate ethical test that you would surely fail? A fucking prank show? 

You didn’t know. You dried off and got dressed, pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, your hair still damp, as you took a breath and stepped out, towel slung over your shoulders. 

Geto was still on the phone, pacing back and forth — he was trying to call other hotels to see if there was anywhere else with two rooms or at least a room with two beds.

“Yes I understand it’s very last minute—“ he sighs for what must have been the billionth time today, “yes, there was a mistake at the hotel I’m staying at—yes, ok, well, thank you,” he hangs up, setting his phone down. 

“No luck?” You sit on the edge of the bed, wiping your hair, and he shakes his head. 

“The one thing they were right about is that every hotel room is booked solid — not only is our conference in town, but there’s a physical science consortium happening as well,” he rakes his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “I’ll have to give the Dean a call to update him on the situation,” 

You nod, “So what should we do about sleeping?” And he can’t quite meet your gaze, “are there no trundle or rollaway beds?” 

“No, apparently those have all been spoken for,” he grumbles, and he prepares to call the dean, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed—“ 

“Professor, we can—“ and his gaze snaps to you, “we can share—“ 

“No, we can’t,” he says softly, “you know we can’t do that,” 

“We’re both adults—“ 

“And we’re still a professor and a student,” he draws the line between you two again, the gash even deeper than before, the gap that’s meant to keep you safe — the chase meant to protect you — so why did it feel more like a punishment? “I’ll take the couch,” and he calls the Dean to update him on the situation. 

You busy yourself with drying your hair in the bathroom, before coming back out to see him hanging up the phone. 

“Well, are we in an ethical bind or should I go sleep in the lobby just to show there’s no funny business?” And he shoots you a look, “there have been stranger bedfellows,” and he opens his mouth, “and a single word comes out of your mouth, and I’ll join you on that couch,” 

And a very pretty flush adorns the tips of his ears and cheeks, “He said it was fine, it was out of our control, but to just document everything, including the hotel’s incompetence for legality reasons,” 

“You’re also a lawyer as well as a professor?” 

“You have to hedge your bets,” he shrugs with a smile pulling at his lips, before he checks the time, “I’m going to take a shower,” he sighs, pulling his hair from the messy bun, letting his black locks down. And you watch him run his fingers through his hair again, sighing, as he heads into the shower. 

You lay on the bed, biting your lip — as you turn over to use your phone, as the shower turns on. And you glance at the closed door — the thought of him in there, pulling his shirt over his head, shedding his pants and boxers. Your cheeks burn, burying your face in your pillow as if that would help (it did not). 

You curl up on the bed, turning away from the bathroom door, using your phone. And a few minutes pass, as you kind of drift off into sleep, and you hear a creak of the bathroom door open that rouses you from sleep. You don’t move at first but you hear shuffling, the sounds of a zipper. You finally turn on your other side, eyes fluttering open, and you’re met with the sight of bare skin. 

You blink, eyes flickering up to see your Professor’s flushed face, before your eyes slowly following a bead of water slip down his bare chest, black hair dotting along the middle of his chest and abs, down to a happy trail that was hidden by a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes in his hand, and your eyes find his own, your lips parted and mouth impossibly dry. 

Oh. My. God. 

“Uh—“ and his cheeks flare red, as you try your best not to let your eyes flicker downward, “I forgot my clothes—“ and you turn away, as he darts back into the bathroom, “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled through the door. 

“It’s okay!” You reply, your heart thumping against your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut to only be met the memory of his bare torso, “fuck,” you mumble under your breath, as you turn onto your back, and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you. A distinct ache below at the thought of him. 

Your eyes flickered to the shut bathroom door. You hear the sound of water running again — maybe he needed to wash up again. Either way, you slid under the comforter, hand slipping into your shorts, you had some time. You wish you could have grabbed his hand before he fled into the bathroom, sat up on your knees, fingers sliding to his cheek. 

“Kiss me,” you’d murmur, and he would, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly, as your fingers glide up his bare chest. You’d swallow his gasp with delight, as your other hand finds his wet locks, fingers tangling in his black locks, “please,” you would guide his fingers to the hem of your shirt and he would oblige, lifting up and over your head. And your fingers would tug his towel away, letting it fall to the ground. 

Your fingers press against the wet patch on your underwear, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you gasp, imagining it was instead his eager fingers that tugged your shorts down. You sunk one finger in and then another, pumping slowly, and you knew he would get you ready for him. He would fuck you with his thick fingers, as his mouth latched to your clit, sucking gently as he fucked you open. You moaned his name softly, as you imagine his fingers stretching you open. 

“Do you want me, my pretty girl?” He would murmur between your thighs, lips glossy with your release, “s’good for me, taste as good as you look,” and he would press your back gently into the mattress as he would meet your lips again before, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy lips, “tell me what you want, Princess,” 

“Please,” you whispered, as you moved your fingers faster, adding a third finger, but you know his cock would feel so much thicker, and reach so much deeper, “fuck me,” 

And he would, sinking into you, his pretty cock parting your folds, his quiet grunts and moans whispering in your ear, as he works himself inside to the hilt. His lips would find yours as he would rock his hips into you — your cunt would flutter around his length. He would press your thighs apart further, long fingers digging into your soft flesh, the wet squelch of your cunt and the sounds of his skin slapping against yours would ring in your ears.

“S’close, Sugu—fuck,” you would keen against him, instead of your fingers, “please,” and his thumb would find your clit, just as yours did, and you would cum all over his cock, squeezing around his length, as he sinks even deeper, until his tip is brushing against your cunt. The moan of his name slips out, as you press your forearm against your mouth to barely stifle it. 

Fuck, you come down from your high, panting. And you glance at the bathroom door, thinking you’ll clean up once he gets out. You roll over in bed, as you pulled the pillow over your face. 

This was going to be a long weekend. 

Suguru lingers in the bathroom for far too long after that, the embarrassment of the moment still far too fresh in his mind, his cheeks still a dusty pink at the thought. Not only was it bad enough that he was trapped in this hotel room with you for an entire weekend, but now he had paraded out practically half naked for you to see. 

Fuck his life. 

He had hurried into the shower if only to get a break from being in the same room as you. It had been hard enough to endure the last few weeks as a T.A., but now he had to spend an entire weekend sharing a hotel room — and deal with situations like that one all weekend. Seeing you emerge from the bathroom, only in a t-shirt and shorts, still damp from your shower — wet hair in messy tangles that he wanted to run his fingers through— and that’s why he excused himself to the bathroom. A reprieve if only for a moment. If he had only remembered to bring his clothes into the shower — he wouldn’t have had to finish his shower, with only his discarded clothes to wear that had slipped off the clothes rack and onto the damp floor. 

He had stepped out, towel around his waist, as he peeled out, only to see your back to him, the sounds of soft breathing told him you were asleep. And he crept out, silently cursing as the door creaked and rifled through his suitcase for clothes. He had found them, and gone to retreat back when you roused and turned all at once. 

God, he sighed, it was such a mess. 

But the way you looked at him…lips parted, gaze flicking across his body, the way your eyes lingered a little too long on his torso — and now he had an entirely different problem. 

His cock tented against the towel, as his eyes slid to the bathroom door. What if he just hopped into the shower for a second again? The towel dropped to the floor, as he steps back into the shower, turning on the water. 

He groans, his fingers slide over his mortifyingly hard erection, teasing his slit as he would imagine you would, as you would open the bathroom door, murmuring his name, “Professor? Are you okay?” And you wouldn’t wait for his answer as you stepped into the shower with him, eyes raking down his body, a teasing grin on your lips, “not very ethical is that?” And your fingers would curl their way around the base of his cock, making him shudder with pleasure, “I can take care of that,” and you would kiss down his chest and stomach, even despite his protests, until you reached where he wanted your touch most. 

And god, you would look so pretty on your knees for him, as your fingers pumped him far too slowly, teasing him with a chaste kiss to his tip, tongue dragging against his slit, better than how his thumb did, “s’good for me, Professor,” you’d say, when you heard the hiss he just let out, “I wonder what other sounds you could make for me,” and your lips would close around his tip, sucking lightly, as he gasped, his other hand clasped over his mouth, muffling his sounds. 

He would look down with half lidded eyes, and see your head bobbing as you took him so well, your fingers toying with his balls, spotting your eyes flicking up to meet his — glazed over and desperate, just he imagined his were. Your mouth would feel so much better than his hand, the wet squelch of his pumping would not compare to you swallowing around him, sucking and licking around his length, his pre-cum and your drool slipping down the corner of your mouth. 

You’d swallow around him, as his fingers would slide into your hair. And maybe you would let him fuck your mouth, hips rolling slowly as you adjust, before he slowly would thrust faster. He would repay the favor tenfold once you were done, burying himself in your sweet cunt, until you were begging him to stop. His fingers moved faster around his cock, his low groans and wet squelch bouncing off the bathroom walls, hopefully drowned out by the running water.  Fuck, he wished he would feel how it would to have his tip brush against the back of your throat. 

He was close, the twitch of his dick in his hand told him so, and he imagined what it would be like to cum in your mouth, watching you swallow his release, if you’d want to, or cumming all over your face or chest, letting his cock drag over your tongue as he pulled out. 

Fuck, he shudders, moaning your name against his fingers, he cums all over his hand and the wall of the shower, his release running down mixing with the water. He rinsed his hand off, leaning his head under the water again, hoping it would wash away any traces of you. 

It didn’t. 

And as he emerged from the shower, making sure any trace of his act had slipped down the drain, but the towel around his neck, wondering if you’d see what he did on his face. But you wouldn’t — because you were fast asleep. 

His lips curled as he watched you sleep for a moment, your lips parted, curled up facing away from the bathroom — your feet sticking out of your blanket. He adjusts the blanket for you, and you shift a little in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, before settling back in. 

And he bites his lip before turning away — he would never be clean, would he? 

Not when it was you. 

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?” you murmur, the smile plastered on your lips nearly starting to chip and crack. 

Professor Geto sipped at his drink hiding his frown, long fingers cradling the wine glass far too perfectly, “at least another hour,” he sighs, “when in academia, one must get used to mindless conversing if only it will lead to another needless connection,”

And this day had been nothing but an exercise of that — lectures, panels, presentations — any other word that meant someone or several someones sitting in front of you, talking at you — with only maybe 30% of the people actually listening (if you were lucky or interesting). And now you were one hour deep into a mixer that had you engaging in dry chit-chat that had your mind going numb by the first ten minutes. Your only reprieve being by Geto’s side. 

You hated how he could make the dullest of things enjoyable for you, or rather—

You hated how much you loved it 

“How pithy — Plato?” And he snorts, as you finish off your own drink, “I’m going to get a refill, do you want anything?” He shakes his head, and you head off to the bar. 

You were so restless after sitting for so long. Not to mention the slight rash you got from not washing up soon enough. You woke an hour and half later and cleaned yourself up — luckily Geto had passed out by then. You saw him sleeping half scrunched up, half sprawled out on the couch — one of his legs were hanging off the couch — and even his blanket had slipped off. You stifled a small laugh, taking a quick picture of him — so stubborn that he wouldn’t sleep on the bed with you. Your gaze had softened, as you picked up the discarded blanket and placed it over him softly, your fingers gently tucking some of his hair from his face. You fell asleep again after heading back to bed, and woke up refreshed — while Geto had woken up with a very sore back and neck. 

“Can I get…” you look at the menu, ordering your favorite drink, standing by the bar as you adjust your dress, you had opted for a black dress with sheer tights — one you had worn a suit jacket over it. You tap against the bar top, checking your phone as you do. 

“Can I get what she’s getting?” A dark haired man sidles up beside you, his mouth curled in a smirk drawing attention to a scar in the corner of his mouth, and his voice drops to a whisper, “though I think I’d enjoy you more than the drink,” 

You raise your eyebrows, “and I think you’ve certainly had enough tonight,” you say under your breath, giving an awkward chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the bartender comes back with your drink. Your eyes flicker over the crowd as you search for Geto but you can’t find him. 

“What’s your name, pretty?” And your skin crawls as his dark gaze slides over your body, “mine’s Toji,” and you bite back a sigh, introducing yourself, “it’s very nice to meet you — I’ve met a lot of people tonight but you definitely have been the most interesting,” and the bartender comes back with his drink. 

“Then you must have not met a lot of interesting people so far,” you say, eager to look for any out to escape this conversation, “my friend is waiting—“ 

“No, I’d say that you’re just that interesting,” he sips his drink, “can I get you another drink?” 

And right when you’re about to respond, “No, I don’t think she’s interested,” And you tense a moment before you register the familiar voice, Geto smiles at Toji, if you could call that a smile — it reminded you of one a predator gave its new prey, “especially because she’s a student, and you’re most assuredly not,” 

Toji raises an eyebrow, “But she is an adult, she can speak for herself, so why don’t you let her, Professor?” 

“Because—“ his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach for you but he can’t. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. And you know why he can’t. 

Geto’s smile wavers, and you intercede, “I can, and I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” you pay your tab, “let’s go back to the hotel, Professor,” 

And Toji pulls his card out, handing it to you, “If you change your mind,” he raises his glass, leaning against the bar, before he leans closer to you, whispering, “if you ever get sick of him, call me,” 

You give a polite smile, tugging Geto away until you reached the outside of the building, silence filled the space between you two, until you found your way outside. 

“What did he say?” He asks as he calls a car back to take you both to the hotel, and you don’t know how to answer that — not without making it worse, “actually, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked,” 

“Professor—“ 

“You’re an adult, he’s right — you should be allowed to make your own choices,” he licks his lips, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen, “I’m sorry if I—“ 

“Can you let me speak?” you sigh, as you wave your hand in front of his phone so he would look at you, and his eyes meet yours, “you’re fine — I was trying to get out of there — I just felt very trapped.” 

He huffs out a chuckle. “When you took that long, I wondered if the group of solipsists had taken you hostage,” 

You grimace, “I guess when you believe everyone else is an illusion, you also think manners are an illusion too,” he laughs in earnest now, “now there’s a real smile,” He tilts his head, “the smile you had inside, real scary kind of smile,” you tease, as his eyes can’t quite meet yours.

“Oh yeah?” he suddenly seems very interested in his phone, “our rideshare is almost here,” 

“Almost like you were jealous,” and he scoffs. 

“Of him?” 

“Uh huh, he is pretty attractive, maybe I will give him a call—“ and you notice him grip his phone tighter, and your lips curl, “but I probably won’t, not really my type,” 

“Not your type?” he asks. 

“More into the intellectuals, that man was far from it — I like an academic, sweater vests, glasses, a pretentious little office—“ and the glare is back, as you laugh, the rideshare sparing him from you continuing this conversation, but you also didn’t get to see the slight smile on his lips as you slipped into the back of the car. 

“Just sleep on the bed,” you say for probably the thousandth time, but he only shakes his head, as he sits on the couch, combing out his black locks. Even freshly showered, he looks unfairly hot — a loose gray t-shirt with sweatpants, contacts switched to glasses, and now his hair brushed against his shoulders. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch — it was fine last night—“ 

“Your spinal cord would beg to differ,” and he looks unamused, as he struggles with his comb, “what are you doing?” 

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, and I can’t get you out of my hair either,” he adds, as you roll your eyes, slipping off the bed and walking over. You ease the comb from his fingers, biting your lip at the brush of his fingers, “what are you—“ 

“It’s easier if someone else does it,” and he sighs, giving in, as your fingers undo the knot in his hair gently, “your hair is really smooth and fine, probably why it tangled so fast,” and he only hums in response, his body relaxing under your touch, as you comb through the rest of his hair. You bite back a smile, he’s almost like a cat, keening under your touch, “feels good?” You murmur. 

“Yeah, it does,” and you don’t want the moment to end, you want this excuse to touch him to remain, the first time you’ve been able to breach this wall between you two — and it’d be over in an instant, “I think that’s good,” he mutters. 

He lays his head back on the top of the couch to look up at you — pretty obsidian orbs stared back at you — and your heart squeezes. He was so close, within reach, and all you had to do was lean down, press your lips against his, and maybe you wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore, maybe you wouldn’t have to hide from him, maybe you could be— 

“We should go to bed,” he sighs, the moment breaks, as he sits upright, adjusting his pillow on the couch beside him, “we have an early start,” 

“Don’t remind me,” you turn back to him, “but you’re right - we should go to bed—“ you grab his pillow, “on the bed,” 

“No—“ 

“Like you said, we’re both adults,” you tilt your head, as he purses his lips, “I think I can handle sleeping in bed beside you, just sleeping, we can even put a pillow between us,” and you add, “if I try anything in my sleep, you challenge me to a pillow fight, and push me off the bed,” 

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I really can sleep on—“ and then you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking to the hand on his neck. He sighs, “fine, but I really will push you off the bed, I’m a restless sleeper,” 

“Then it’s equal opportunity,” you grin, as you slip into your side of the bed, stretching. Suguru is slower to get in, taking his time and adjusting his pillow and blanket before he finally gets into bed, “good night,” 

“Good night,” he turns to face away from you as he sleeps and you do the same. 

But it wasn’t a good night. Not when you couldn’t fucking sleep. 

For someone so smart, you really were very stupid. The bed that seemed expansive and open yesterday now felt Tom Thumb tiny, every shift of your body felt like a ripple effect, as you’d feel the slight shift of Geto right beside you. He was so close — you swore you could nearly feel the heat radiate off of him, the weight of his body beside you felt far too close and way too far — a chasm you could never cross.

And it was close to driving you insane enough to follow your wants all the way down it. 

But you couldn’t — but you could look, stare into the void, without becoming part of it. 

You shift again to face him this time — how could the back of someone’s head be so beautiful? Jet black locks that you had combed yourself fanned out on his pillow. But you could spot the nape of his neck through the tresses, a lovely spot that you only wished you could lean over and bury your face in. Your eyes began to droop. 

Hypnos finally took pity. You could only sleep this way. Your eyes finally flutter shut — you should have known — you were always the most comfortable with him in your sight. 

Suguru knew that you had fallen asleep — because your soft breaths fell into a rhythm, the crinkle of your sheets had grown silent, and the loud thoughts that filled up your head had gone quiet. He was glad one of you could sleep. 

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight. 

This was certainly more comfortable than the couch, but at least he had slept on the couch. He would be lucky to get thirty minutes at this rate. This weekend had already been too much — and he felt his will to stay away from you slowly snapping, a few strands away from breaking away completely. 

When he had seen you with Toji — he didn’t think, he just acted. He could see you were uncomfortable, the way your body leaned away from him, the way your eyes flickered around the room, and the way you toyed with your glass. It was a simple choice, but what happens when the next person that flirts with you is someone you’re interested in? Would he have to stand by and simply let it happen? Watch as you’re able to date this person but not him simply because of his title? 

He was jealous. Not of Toji — but of the idea of you being with someone else — of your attention drifting from him, of you drifting from him. He turned to lay on his back, he really was fucked wasn’t he? 

He turns his head to look at you. It never helped that you were effortlessly adorable, even now as you slept. Lips parted, body curled up, your hair falling in your face yet again. His fingers tuck a strand behind your ear gently, and you shift, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you settle back into the arms of the sandman. 

How were you so close but so far? You were mere inches away but you might as well be across the country. Because he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t kiss you. The kiss he shared with you haunted his dreams — a daydream wrapped up in the nightmare of reality. He couldn’t ask you to wait — wait for your degree to be completed so the two of you could date. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but what about this was fair? 

And he turns on his side to face you, his fingers brushing your cheek gently — maybe if he couldn’t be with you in reality, he could allow himself to dream, his eyes flutter shut. 

Just for a moment. 

And his unconscious allows it — allows him to dream of you. 

Dream of your face buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths warming his skin, his nose buried in your hair. Your fingers grasped at his shirt, your other hand thrown over his middle. Why was your scent so intoxicating? He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you shift, your leg sliding around his waist, as you pressed closer, pulling a groan from his lips as your core grazes right against his morning…visitor. 

And you move again, nose brushing against his collarbone, his name on your lips, quietly whispered like a secret against his skin. It was perfect — you were perfect. 

But what if this wasn’t a dream? The back of his mind prods — but that’s not possible, he was home in bed, right? This wasn’t real. It was the same dream he always had, of waking up in your arms, a lazy morning spent together in bed, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sheets becoming dappled in sunshine. 

No, there was no way this was real, he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, but even if it was, he thought as he drifted, he didn’t want to wake — not yet. 

A distinct buzz stirs you from your sleep. But you don't want to wake — you were far too comfortable. But the buzzing persists, so you reach blindly for your phone and to turn off the alarm. And settle back into bed, eyes still shut, as you find your way back onto your pillow — or what you thought was your pillow. 

Except pillows didn’t move, or have an arm they could wrap around you. 

Your eyes open, to find yourself entangled with someone else — your brow furrowing in confusion that melts away to silent horror. Professor Geto. 

So much for sticking to your sides. 

Fuck.  

You tried to extricate yourself to no avail, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his body, your legs entangled, aside from your leg thrown over his waist, you realize, a small squeak escaping your lips, as you try and fail to move away. Instead you brush up against something very…hard. 

You flush, cheeks burning so hot that it’s truly a miracle he didn’t wake from the heat of your skin against his alone. His morning wood was pressed right against you, nearly between your thighs — just like the last time it was  against you — why the fuck would you think about that now? You resisted the urge to press your legs together — lest you have another new problem, and a mess to deal with. 

You manage to only pull your head away, urging yourself up so that your faces are an inch or two apart now. His soft breaths warmed your lips, his brow relaxed, locks of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Your fingers reach and tuck the locks behind his ear, tips skimming his skin. And the arm around you almost seems to tighten, and you bite your lip, the comforting presence of his arms far too tempting to drag you into wanting — as if you ever left. Wanting was dangerous, because wanting can only ever lead to need, needing him was as foolish as it was to share a bed with the man you were in love with. 

But how foolish was it that you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away? It was okay right? Okay as long your lips didn’t touch, as long you didn’t follow this slope all the way down — it was treacherous to press forward, but why did you want to anyway?

Your eyes flutter shut again for a moment — and your eyes glanced at the morning sky — the sun had just breached the horizon. You could allow yourself a few minutes — even if you had to give up a lifetime with him. 

The blaring of your phone only seems to grow increasingly loud, as you give a small groan, rolling over to your phone again, slapping the screen to snooze it again. And your eyes flutter open a moment, lazily flickering over the screen — 8:45 AM. 

Your eyes close — before your mind fully wakes — 8:45 AM? 

“Fuck,” you shoot up to get up, a tangle of limbs,  jolting Geto awake, his eyes popping open, his arm instinctively grabbing you by the waist, and you land with an oomfph back onto the bed—wait, not the bed. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, your body against his, noses brushing, your eyes unable to tear away from the other — his eyes were even prettier this close — a dark brown, nearly black, with flecks of another color — purple? You can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat or his that’s racing with how close you are, chest to chest. And even as you try to shift, you make it worse by slipping, your hips rubbing against each other’s. 

Fuck. 

You both freeze for a moment, his eyes flickering to your lips and back, as yours does the same, before you both scramble apart. 

“We’re late. We’re really late,” you spring out of bed, grabbing random clothes from your suitcase, “I’m going to get ready, really fast,” you don’t even bother to look at his expression, and you almost wished your heart had shattered your ribcage, with how fucking hard it’s beating, if only that you wouldn’t have to spend another day in the conference with him. 

You sighed, as you brushed your teeth hurriedly while doing your hair — well maybe a lecture or presentation would take your mind off this morning. 

So that wasn’t a dream, Suguru was only glad you didn’t even glance at his face when you ran off, or you would have seen the lovely tomato red that graced his cheeks. He could still feel the warmth from your body, slowly receding, and he swore he could still feel you against him, your soft skin, your pretty lips against his neck, and your leg around his waist. 

Fuck. 

God, he had another fucking problem to deal with — as he shifted awkwardly, his morning wood up and erect with a tent that could put most large circus tents to shame. Fuck, he didn’t have time to take care of this — especially with you in the bathroom right now. 

But still, he pressed his inner palm to his lips, how was he going to make it through the rest of the conference with the feeling of your body still lingering in his mind. If the situation was different, the two of you would have woken up with smiles on your lips, spent the morning cuddling without a care, and probably a little more than that—

But the situation was the same, and his eyes slid to the bathroom door, so why was it that he still thinking about you? He wasn’t the type to dwell, he accepted things for what they were — he had his principles and his beliefs, and he stuck to them, unless proven otherwise. He was a man of guidelines, of rules—

So why were you the only person that ever made him want to throw every rule away? 

“We are going to be discussing ethical dilemmas faced in universities and how to approach them,” the lecturer begins, “can anyone tell us an example of one such dilemma?” 

You both had barely made it into a lecture — barely even speaking as you ran-walked into the conference — choosing a lecture at random, as the two of you ran a good fifteen minutes late. You both arrived, hiding your pants, as you both grabbed water bottles from the back, and sat down. 

And of course to make matters worse, your phone goes off, making the entire room turn to look at the two of you. You silence your phone, murmuring a quick sorry as the two of you take your seats. 

Could this possibly get worse? 

Your eyes glanced at him — it was already bad enough to begin with. Geto had barely spoken a word this morning, even as the two of arrived at the conference, the only words he spoke were to the attendant that parked his car. 

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, adjusting your clothes. And if that wasn’t enough, you were going to spend the day sweaty and disheveled. Meanwhile, you stole another glance at your professor — his skin flushed from running, button up not buttoned up all the way, glasses instead of contacts, and his hair in its usual bun, but a few strands were nearly coming loose — he still looked fucking delectable. But he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his body positioned to lean away from yours, his eyes fixed ahead. 

You held back your sigh as you focused on the presentation — you just needed to get through today — as the lecturer picked someone who raised their hand. 

“A student-teacher relationship is one such ethical problem faced in universities today,” and Geto nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly, as you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of this morning, “it presents several ethical problems — including the role the professor plays in the student’s education and future, their ability to provide praise or reprimand, and even grant recommendations gives them great power over their student. It leaves the student without much freedom in the relationship.”

Oh, what the fuck. 

The rest of the conference is spent in relative silence with a thick film of awkwardness perfectly overlayed. When you both finally return to the hotel room, your only consolation is that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. You toss your things onto the couch, “I’m going to wash up,” you tell him, and he only nods in reply, as you enter the bathroom and shut the door, back pressed against it and sliding down. 

Oh this is such a mess. You sigh, maybe a shower will help. 

It didn’t. You were still just as much of a mess as you were before. You sighed, as you stood in front of the sink, wiping your hair with a towel. This could be so simple if you both could be together — so easy. There would be no tension, no hurt feelings, no awkwardness — you could just be. But that’s not an option. So the only other option is to let him go. 

But you didn’t know how to begin to. 

Either way, hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t solve a thing — and you finally opened the door, “I’m done if you want to wash up,” he nods, sitting on the couch, reading a book. His glasses rested on the tip of his nose, lips pursed, and legs crossed. 

You walk over, grabbing your things from the couch and put some of your things away in your suitcase. But after all of that is done, you realize one thing is missing — your cellphone. 

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath, searching through your suit coat pockets, your pants pocket, anywhere that your phone might be. 

“What’s wrong?” Geto says, book in his lap, as he tilts his head. 

“Can’t find my phone,” you mumble, cheeks burning — god, it was already awkward enough, and now this? 

“Is it on ring?” You nod — your phone was usually on ring, sometimes to your detriment — you cringe at the memory in the lecture this morning, “I’ll call it,” 

He calls you — and you glance at his phone screen, your contact is just your name, no picture, nothing. You bite your lip, what were you expecting? A heart next to your name? And the sound of your phone ringing catches both of your attention. 

“It’s over here, somewhere,” he says, lifting up some of cushions of the couch, and reaching underneath into the creases, as you walk over — “I found—“ 

And you were so concerned about your contact information in his phone that you forgot about his contact information in your phone. 

The screen flashed with the image of him sleeping all lopsided on the couch from that first night, as you covered your mouth in both horror, but also to stifle your laugh. 

His eyes flicker to you, “When did you—“ and you reach for your phone, but he moves it away, “not until you answer my questions,” 

“This isn’t class, Professor, I want my phone—“ you reach for it again, and he’s holding it above your head, “oh real mature—“ 

“Like the picture you have of me as my contact picture?” He raises an eyebrow, a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “thought I should resort to my student’s level,”  

“Your T.A.,” you correct, as you reach for your phone again, but he’s using his height to his advantage, and he’s beginning to walk backwards, “come on, give it back—“ 

“Not until I change and delete that photo,” and he’s trying to hold your phone up to your face to unlock it, and you gasp. 

“Oh my god, give it back!” And you grab his hand, and he’s grabbing at the other, giggles leaving your lips, as he laughs too, as the two of you struggle for the phone, your fingers closing over it, and over his own fingers as well. 

And you realize how close you are to him. 

The two of you freeze a moment, laughter on your lips fading away to soft smiles, and his fingers squeeze yours lightly, as he passes you your phone back. But he doesn’t move away — and you don’t either. 

“Why did you let go?” and it seems like it’s a force out of your control that draws you together, no matter how much either of you try to let go. 

“Because I can’t help giving you what you want,” he murmurs, and the heat of his gaze melts your heart, as you drop your phone onto the couch, and reach for his hand again. 

And you lean closer, your other hand gently brushing against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, “So if I ask for a kiss, will you give it to me?” You won’t close the gap anymore than you have — he needs to reach for you too, let himself give into gravity. 

He does, as his hand brushes against your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone, “will we stop at just a kiss?” He murmurs, leaning so close that your eyes want to flutter shut. 

“Only one way to find out,” and his lips brush yours. And it’s not chaste like your first kiss was, no, his lips slide against yours, as his other hand slides to the back of your neck. He swallows your gasp eagerly, if the smirk you feel against your lips is anything to go off of. Your teeth graze against this bottom lip teasingly, drawing a small groan from the back of his throat. 

Neither of you couldn’t stop at one kiss, and you both knew that, even as your lips parted for a small breath of air, they found each other again — just as you both always did. Because you could never let him go — no matter how hard you tried. 

RING. RING. RING. 

And this time it isn’t an alarm. But rather his phone, flashing with a name that brings you crashing back to reality. 

The department head. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as he parts from you, his warmth leaving all at once, as he grabs his phone, and turns away, “Hello? Yes, the conference is over. Everything went well. No, no, nothing out of the ordinary.” 

You stared at his back, this would always be the case wouldn’t it? Even as you crashed together, something would pull you apart, and neither of you could break the cycle. You take your phone from the couch, and crawl into bed, but you could start. 

You close your eyes, your fingers brushing against your lips for a moment. You needed to start — otherwise, you would just end up broken. 

And you don’t hear him hang up — or see him stare at your figure under the covers — and he would break along with you. 

Suguru didn’t know what to say the next morning — especially when it seemed couldn’t even bear to look at him, much less speak to him. You had busied yourself with packing, even before he had awoken. His back ached from the night he spent on the couch, he couldn’t fall asleep for far too long, and by the time he did, he kept sleeping — through his many alarms it seemed. 

And it wasn’t the couch that kept him awake. 

You both had the most lovely timing, didn’t you? He thought, as he combed his hair in the bathroom, the memory of your fingers running through his hair as you gently undid the knots in his locks still ever present — it seemed like any time you two wanted to act on your feelings, the universe was doing what it could to keep you apart. 

Was this fate versus free will? 

You both kept choosing each other — but fate kept pulling you apart. Did he have any control over his actions or did he have no control over his actions at all? Was it all predetermined by some force he couldn’t perceive? Some force intent on pulling you apart. 

He sighed, as his phone lights up with an email from the department head — department head position opened up in Jujutsu University: Kyoto — 

And so maybe he should let it. 

The next few weeks pass by far too quick. As your semester picks up, you stop attending Professor Geto’s classes, opting to send an email to let him know, and he replies back with a simple response — Ok. Please let me know when and if you are available to input the grades for the midterm paper. 

The rest of your T.A. work is done online and over email — and you do your best to keep busy, keep yourself occupied, and keep your thoughts from straying to him.

And you maybe succeed 10% of the time. It doesn’t help that your unconscious does not wish to cooperate since it seems that once you stopped seeing your professor during waking hours, he’s infiltrated your sleep — sneaking in and out by the time your eyes open. 

And then you’re left with the fragments of his touch, his voice, his kisses, and soft, loving words. 

Just as you always were it seemed. 

And before you know it, the end of the semester comes, and you find yourself in front of that same office door yet again. It felt like an eternal reoccurrence — stuck to repeat the same events again and again in an infinite loop. Was there any exit from this loop? 

You didn’t know — you knocked on his office door — but you could try. 

“Come in,” you do, entering his office to find him sitting at his desk, hair half up for once. And his eyes flicker up to meet yours, his head tilting at your stare, “see something interesting?” 

“Your hair—“ and your cheeks burn — so much for trying — “it’s different,” 

“Thought I’d try something different — my hair is growing out,” and you have to repress the want to curl a lock or his hair around your finger, “do you not like it?” 

You shake your head, “It looks nice, just different,”

And he hands you the papers he’s graded, “you can input those, I’m just finishing up a couple more, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit?” 

“Not at all,” a silence falls over between the two of you, the quiet scratch of his pen as he grades, the occasional ding of his e-mail breaking up the silence. You sneak a glance at him — ebony tresses brushing against his broad shoulders, his brow furrowed that you wished to run your fingers along to smooth his worries from his mind, pretty lips parted as he reads a sentence silently to himself. 

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this. 

You busy yourself thumbing your way through the papers, spotting the familiar red scrawls littering these pages, as they once did yours. You were so pissed when you got your first paper back — indignant even — a whole Karen ready to speak to his supervisor. But when his honest criticism and blunt words rang true, you found yourself not only wanting to prove him wrong, but a want to be better. To earn his respect. And of course, later, you wanted to earn a little more than that. 

You bite back a chuckle, and here you still were — by his side. Except next semester you wouldn’t be his T.A. 

But you would still be a student. And he would still be a professor. 

But one other thing that hasn’t changed is how brutal the feedback is — you couldn’t help but feel bad for “Itadori Yuuji” — whoever that was. 

“What are you smiling about?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, his head leaning against his palm, elbow resting on the desk. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but he looks unconvinced, “just thinking about our first time in this office,” and then your cheeks burn at the double meaning, “I mean our first office hours appointment—“ 

He waves you off, “I know what you meant,” a small chuckle in his cadence, as he continues to grade, “you certainly weren’t happy with me,” 

“No I wasn’t,” a small smile on your lips, “but it worked out in the end,” you add, “you got an amazing T.A. after all,” 

His eyes meet yours, “More than just that,” 

Why can’t you help but get pulled in time and time again? And why can’t you help but ask questions that will only hurt you in the end? 

He continues to grade when you finally speak, “What do you think would have happened if I didn’t end up being your T.A.?” 

And his pen stops, lips pursed, “We shouldn’t—“ 

“Why shouldn’t we?” you felt like a child demanding an answer from their parent. 

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-” 

“It was unspoken—” 

You scoff, crossing your arms, “You really are only a professor because an attorney would know that binding agreements can’t be unspoken,” he falls silent, his voice soft. 

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” his words are wrought with conflict, pain seeping into every syllable, “I don’t want to keep going down this road only to for you to get hurt in the end — I don’t want to jeopardize your future for something that might not last—” 

“But what if it does?” and he swallows thickly, “what if we can make it work? We’re both adults, we can be discreet—” 

“So discreet that we end up making out in my office?” he takes off his glasses only to run a hand down his face, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, and you huff out a chuckle. 

“A little more discreet than that, we’ll lock the door next time,” it’s his turn to scoff, and you rise from your seat, lips curled, “close the lights, or maybe even kiss in a place that’s not on campus,” but he does the same, meeting you on the side of his desk, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently as if you’d shatter under his touch. 

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career,” he says, his fingers finding your hand regardless, fingers interlacing, “I don’t want you to—” 

“It’s my choice, Suguru,” you murmur, as you lean against his warm palm, your fingers sliding against his palm and into his inky tresses, “don’t you owe me a choice, and a drink?” you add, and his lips curl in a knowing smile. 

“I do, if you’ll still have me,” and he’s leaning close, sucking the air from the room, and the logic from your minds, as his lips barely graze yours, “shouldn’t we lock the door?” 

“Fuck it,” and you pull him into a deep kiss that pulls a groan from his lips that makes your cunt ache, as he’s already pushing you into the lip of his desk, his hand sliding down to your waist. 

“Now who’s being unethical?” he murmurs, pressing eager kisses along your jaw, that makes you melt against him, your legs nearly jelly at this point, “what kind of example are you setting as a T.A.?” 

You bite back your moan as his lips find the soft spot of your neck, teeth grazing it far too fucking teasingly, “Well students learn by example,” and his hands are slipping under thighs to lift you so you’re sitting on his desk — you spread your legs for him in the dress that you’re in, pantyhose underneath, his heavy lidded gaze raking over your body, “and look at my professor staring at his T.A. so lustfully, even with a clear power dynamic—” 

And his fingers find your thighs again, squeezing, before his fingers dig into the sheer hose, tearing holes in it, drawing a gasp from your lips, “How’s that for a power dynamic, princess?” far too pleased, “don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs, “now just be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he says, as he pulls away the ruined pantyhose, and he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand — one, two, three — before your fingers take over, leaning to press kisses at each inch of exposed skin, until the shirt falls open. 

Then his lips find yours again, his silver tongue asking for you to part your lips and you do — as he extracts every want you have with his burning touch — his lips against yours, his large hands parting your thighs, his knee pressed against your twitching cunt — and only leaves your want for him behind, until it becomes a need. 

“Wonder what our students would think of you,” his fingers tease your inner thighs, drawing a whine from your lips, “wanting your professor to fuck you in his office instead of inputting their grades,” he whispers in your ear, as his fingers finally skim the wet patch of your underwear, “so wet f’me, already? Look I think you even soaked my slacks,” he tsks, as his thumb and forefinger find your chin and tilt it up, “what are you going to do about that?” 

“Suguru—please,” and he smiles as his finger starts to tease your puffy clit through your drenched panties, “don’t tease—” 

“How can I not when you’ve nothing but tease me with your existence?” he pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, “I’ll oblige my favorite student this time—but I won’t be so nice next time,” he adds, biting your bottom lip. 

RING. RING. RING. 

It was his fucking office phone. You groan, but his finger continues to sink into you, “Suguru—” 

“Let it ring,” his lips find yours in a bruising kiss as his finger deliciously sinks into you, “I have all I need right here,” he whispers, and you pull him back into a kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, your hand sliding up and down his chest, while he worked a finger into your cunt, “so fucking wet f’me, so perfect,” 

And your hand flies back to support yourself as a second finger begins to sink into you — but your hand grazes his office phone, and the messages begin to play back.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, as you reach blindly for the phone, only to knock it back, as he chuckles and reaches behind you, trying but failing to help — your noses brushing, and he smiles before kissing you again. 

Mr. Geto, sorry we missed each other, I was calling, hoping that you would still be in office for the day, but I must have just missed you. I wanted to call to offer you the job as department head at Jujutsu Tech University: Kyoto—

You freeze, your lips parting from his as you look up at him, his eyes wide as he stops the message from playing back any further — and the words settle over the mood like a sheet pulled over a dead body. 

And you’re the first to speak, always asking the questions that will hurt you in the end, “You’re moving to Kyoto?” 

✧ a/n: so i'm sorry for that ending hahah, i promise there will be a happy ending later on for these two. thank you to @gaylatteart and @laneysmusings for betaing and just being the best. also if i tagged you please comment / reblog because tagging on tumblr sucks, it takes very long.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ THE MOON SAYS HELLO. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀呪術廻船; geto suguru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . part one of three ꒱ . . . word count; 3.6k

⊹ ⠀⠀despite his insistence on never falling in love, suguru fails to stop himself from becoming smitten with his best friend’s beloved. you’ve become a flicker of hope in his darkness— though you’re someone who can never and will never be his to have and to hold.

series contains; if gojo didn’t kill geto n geto was given a chance to redeem himself, redemption arc!geto, human caretaker!reader, kind of e2l but also not really, love triangle, gojo x reader, fluff, major angst, heartbreak, wedding at the end, swearing probably, geto refers to humans as monkeys per usual author's note; rewritten fic, will be 3 parts in total (i'm half done pls be patient w me im a slow writer...)

YEAR ONE, DAY ONE

His face is sore. So sore. It’s red, swollen, and sore after he’s spent the last three hours screaming in frustration with his current predicament. This is absurd, Satoru should’ve just killed him when he had the chance. Geto’s lost count of how many times his palms have slapped his own face; over and over again with wishes that he can wake up from this hellish nightmare the higher ups call ‘rehabilitation’— though he can somewhat still recall the first slap that he’d given himself around the half-hour mark. He’s got a pretty good memory…that doesn’t stop him from hoping his veins aren’t too noticeable as they angrily protrude from his forehead in crimson currents.

He’d rather be dead than imprisoned like this…like an animal…like one of those damn useless monkeys.

The intensity of his wails continue to bounce off of the barren walls— barren aside from the dark mark he’d punched in earlier— and echo like a party of lost ghouls in the bottom of an empty well. Geto feels like a mad man.

He’s only just begun his isolation and he’s already growing mad with boredom. 

A huff escapes his lips as he plops himself down onto the twin-sized bed that’s nestled in the corner of his so-called ‘suite’. With linen sheets and a dark maroon comforter, it’s almost a cozy living situation; in another life, Geto could imagine himself cuddling beneath the covers with his favorite book and a soft record playing in the background for some ambience. That world is far far away now. Even if he asked for a record player, he doubts the higher ups would grant him one. He’s their most valuable prisoner, and they’re sure to keep him as miserable as possible until he’s one-hundred-percent pure hearted once more. However, despite their reluctance to grant him the things he wants, these aren’t the worst living arrangements he’s ever encountered and he knows that Gojo did his best to give him the best commodities he could to…well…a highly dangerous criminal. 

This is the only path to forgiveness, he reminds himself, constantly trying to be optimistic about the utter absurdity of it all. 

Optimism hasn’t been his specialty in a long time; anyone with a working pair of eyes would be able to deduce that, and he despises it. He’s quite rusty with the characteristic and has looked on the darker side for a while now— but wishes that he could be as reckless as he once was as a teenager. He can vividly remember how loud his laughter was with Gojo and Shoko, laughing as they chased each other throughout the school yard and using each other's cursed energy to their advantage in games of tag— but that would be near impossible now. His two best friends can barely look him in the eyes after the treason he’s committed. Gojo views him as a ticking time bomb and Shoko’s healed too many people to count that he’s harmed.

If he stepped one foot out of this room, he believes he’d be smothered on sight.

The Jujutsu Society fears Geto Suguru..

…and Geto Suguru fears himself. 

In all fairness, he deserves everything that’s come to him. What he did was awful; mass murdering humans…trying to murder even more humans…harming innocent students…starting a war during the holiday season…the whole gist. There are obviously bad actions from the past that continue to haunt Geto to this day and will continue haunting him so long as he breathes— but that’s all it is now…the past. He wants redemption. He needs redemption. If Gojo managed to reach clarity within Geto’s awful decisions, then maybe he can too. 

Geto wants to get better, to be better…not only for Gojo…but for himself. 

This is exactly why he and his best friend has devised a plan, one that will hopefully help lead Geto on a better path— a five-year path that will only be completed if he truly wants it to, and a half a decade seems like quite a bit of time to most; but for Geto, he doesn’t know if it will be enough. 

For Satoru…do it for Satoru…

He wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort his heart that beats with fear every second of every day. It’s been so long since he’s been hugged by another, and he doubts he’ll ever feel that love and comfort from someone in his life. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s been alone with his thoughts with no one else to turn to; and if he’s being honest, there’s nothing in the entire world that scares him more than his own mind. 

“Geto Suguru?”

He doesn’t recognize that voice.

The soft sound comes from seemingly nowhere, startling Geto with a slight jump. Whomever it is sounds frail and weak, obviously intimidated by whom they’re going to be in the presence of in mere minutes; and Geto already finds nothing but annoyance at his new companion. Of course they’re going to have prior judgment. He bets you already hate him for the rumors and stories. He doesn’t really have a choice whether or not you come in, though. Gojo insisted on a caretaker— someone to talk to so he doesn’t go insane by himself— and Geto will do anything to make his best friend happy. So, he stands up and dusts his pants off, making sure to look more presentable, and stalks towards the entryway. His hand meets the knob, yanking it open, and ready to meet the stranger on the other side. 

Standing before him is you, a woman around his age. You can’t possibly be older than twenty-six, but perhaps you’re a few years younger. In your hands are various sweets and snacks that Gojo knows Geto loves, balancing on a silver tray that shines more light in the room than he’d care for. The reflections dazzle straight into his eyes, blinding him briefly with a scowl on his face. Of course Gojo would know to send you in with his favorites. He’s so predictable. His best friend is less surprising than he thinks, causing Geto to roll his eyes to the top of his head; though he appreciates the kind gesture. It’s far past dinner, though. Gojo must’ve struggled to convince the others to allow him a proper meal. 

“Don’t just stand there, monkey.” Geto commands whilst gesturing to the small dining table in the center of his confined space. “Come inside.”

The instant you stepped into his presence, it was horribly noticeable that you have no cursed energy. Zero. Not a lick of it…and he struggles to hide the disgust with his body language. He can’t help but be annoyed that a monkey such as yourself is going to be in his company for the next five years. 

With his distaste for you clear as day, he pulls out a chair for himself and disregards the kind option of pulling out yours prior; expectantly looking towards you with the expectation that you’re going to serve him his meal like a servant. 

“Well, monkey…” he trails off disinterested, “I’m waiting.”

You hustle towards him, quickly and efficiently placing the special grade sorcerer’s meal on the placemat before him and taking the empty seat opposite. There’s a small breath you’re holding in, Geto can see it in your throat— it’s suffocating you with fear for your life as your fingers lightly tap the dark wood in a nervous fit. 

You’re completely pathetic. As if a monkey would ever have the courage to speak to him. This is ridiculous.

His hands slam against the table with a loud bang. “What are you doing?” he questions, heavily interrogating you as you cower in your seat like a meak mouse. “Does Satoru expect you to monitor my meals?”

He really is nothing but a prisoner, isn’t he?

“What damage could I possibly do with this slob that’s been served to me by the scum of the earth? Start a food fight in the halls? Overthrow the Jujutsu world with a biscuit?” (If that is the case, in your defense, the biscuits are quite hard. There must be a new kitchen hand in training who based them.) This is a horrible day.

As Geto impatiently awaits your answer, a deep breath escapes your lips— perhaps a way to soothe your heartbeat into something less than a record-breaking speed— and you attempt to focus your stress and fear into a fleeting moment of zen. Your large eyes shut for a total of three seconds; one, two, three…before opening again. This time, as his own eyes make contact with yours, they’re shining with slightly more confidence than before as you swallow hard and settle your gaze on Geto— the look in your eyes evolving from that of anxiety to empathy. 

“Actually,” your lips rise into a thin smile, “Gojo Satoru didn’t send me here, the higher ups did.”

Your eyes search Geto’s for any signs of discomfort or inner rage that could be boiling beneath the surface of his poker face. It appears that he’s grown even stronger at hiding his true emotions towards humans; however, you can see through the veil. Yes, it’s thick and difficult to brush past, but there’s a slight opening in the center that you peek inside— and what you can see in his heart is a man who simply wants to finally do what’s right. 

“The higher ups are aware that Gojo Satoru has a soft spot for you— hell, everyone who knows your name is aware that when it comes to you, he has no reason. He has no right of mind. I’m only here to monitor and report your progress in an honest manner. That’s it. That’s all. I promise I won’t intrude on your life more than necessary.” 

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Geto Suguru…but you’re stuck with me.”

It’s as if his left and right sides are arguing between themselves. His good conscience says that he should give you a chance, perhaps you could be different than the monstrous humans that attempted to kill his beloved Mimiko and Nanako; while his bad conscience tells him to let out one of his cursed spirits to devour you where you stand. Listening to his right side would definitely get him his best case scenario…a chance to see his girls again…but the left side would be so much more enjoyable. Oh well. At least the higher ups sent someone somewhat his age and not an ancient and decaying corpse like themselves. That’s a disgusting thought. He’d rather be hugged by a hundred humans than be forced to befriend a higher up. A shiver runs through Geto’s spine as a newfound appreciation for you is birthed within him.

“Do you have a name?” Geto taunts as he begins to pick at his meal, slightly disgusted with the stale quality of some of the snacks but nevertheless thankful that he at least has something to subside his aching hunger. “Or should I just call you ‘monkey’ as I do with the rest of your kind?”

That sound?

You’re laughing?

Your giggles are surprisingly pleasant to Geto’s ears as they harmonize into a song that he can imagine himself listening to each morning. Why did you find that funny? He was quite literally insulting your entire existence. Geto is dumbfounded by the strange humor you seem to have, considering that he was being entirely serious with his question. Humans are so strange. He’s never really been able to understand how your peoples’ minds work, but perhaps he could begin to learn the basics. It’s not like he has anything better to do, and some entertainment would be nice. 

He’ll keep you around…it wouldn’t hurt and you can be his companion kind of like a pet.

Pets are cute…

…your smile is cute too.

You smile once more, answering his question with a blush on your face. “Please,” your cheeks redden, “Call me by my name, Suguru.”

YEAR ONE, DAY NINETY-FOUR

“You’re late.” Geto crosses his arms over his chest, exhaling a large breath of air in a loud and annoyed huff as he attempts to seem seriously angered by his new friend’s awful timing. 

It’s nearly twenty minutes past the time that you were supposed to be here; emphasis on supposed. He’s been waiting with his eyes staring at the clock, watching it tick and tick as the time passed by with no you knocking on his door. That’s twenty whole minutes of time in which he was forced to entertain himself rather than listen to your rambles and rants about whatever the latest scandal is in the outside world. You love that pop culture gossip stuff that social media and magazines rave about, and in a weird way, you somewhat remind him of his daughters— personality-wise…not attraction wise…that would be weird. 

Over the past few months, Geto’s grown severely accustomed to the daily routine that you’ve developed, becoming so fond of you that he strangely pictures your smile and recalls your laughter when you aren’t even here. Friendship is a funny thing. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a friend like yourself; yes, Satoru will always be his closest confidant…but his relationship with you is different in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s never considered anyone else the highlight of his every day like he does you. Your company is the kind of presence that he overwhelmingly enjoys; with such a positive and warm nature exuding comfort to Geto’s loneliness, and your judgment-free outlook on life rivaling his pessimism in a perfect mixture of negativity and optimism. He wishes he’d met you sooner, perhaps when he was a child— and if he had, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did. 

It’s too bad you would’ve only been an awful human to him back then…he would’ve called you his infamous nickname without batting an eye…a monkey…

…a mere monkey whom he never ever thought he’d develop unwanted feelings for.

For his entire life, Geto always told himself not to fall in love. That love isn’t real. It isn’t obtainable, not when there are people like Satoru in the world— people that you can’t help but love— and then people like him; people who you can’t help but hate. With that being said, he’s never necessarily been looking forward to any potential love matches in his future.

…no matter who he was involved with…

…until he met you.

“Sorry about that, Suguru!” you hustle through the doorway, your appearance a tangled mess with dusty dirt particles littered with gravel. 

There’s a large scratch on your right cheek, not deep or in danger of infection in any way, but noticeable enough that he’s able to see it from a distance. Knowing you, it’s most likely accidentally self-inflicted in some sort of way; you being notorious for tripping or snagging your skin on the sharp end of a table. How do you always manage to be so uncoordinated? Geto can’t help but let out a short laugh, his eyes scrolling up and down your body and taking in your entire appearance, dirt and all. You even manage to make dirt look good. What the fuck? He hates this.

Your voice carries on as you approach him. “I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable shop downtown and I just had to make a stop.” The overexaggerated tone you hold is amusing as your hands wave through the air in a physical storytelling of your experience. The skin of your cheeks is flushed red from your sprint through the city, looking beautiful in resemblance to that of a blooming rose. 

Geto can feel his own face heating up at the sight of you, choosing to shrug nonchalantly in an attempt to seem as if he doesn’t care at all about your dilemma…

…as if he doesn’t care about every second of your everyday…

…as if your overall excitement isn’t the only thing that truly keeps him going nowadays. 

“You tell me these things as if what you do outside of this room matters to me.” He hopes his words mask his rising blush. (Spoiler alert: They don’t.)

Flawlessly, you brush off Geto’s phony disinterest without the slightest acknowledgement. It’s as if the phrase had never even left his lips, with no evidence and proof of insult. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence when the topic of what you do when you’re not with him comes up in conversation, as the prisoner typically tries to ignore his interest in your daily shenanigans— and you can’t deny that it hurts. Most of the time, it feels as if Geto never actually listens to anything you say, and you were able to quickly realize that in the early weeks of your arrangement when the pain began to torment your heart; ripping and shredding it to bits with every eye roll and mocking scoff. You don’t seem to matter in Geto’s point of view. He doesn’t care…at least that’s what you believe. 

In contrast to Geto, you’re an emotional spirit— you crave love.Love is all you’ve ever wanted, needed, and desired. In your time with him, you’ve developed inklings of feelings as well. However, you’ve chosen to let your feelings grow and blossom out of the dirtied patch of grass they were planted in— ignoring the warnings every single person in your life has given you in advance. Despite that, Geto continues to stomp on your budding flowers. He takes a heavy watering can, filled to the brim with hose water, and drowns your garden in the tears that you shed in the privacy of your bedroom. Those tears that are a never ending waterfall due to the fact that you know it isn’t your job to fall in love with your client. Your duty to Jujutsu Society is to help Geto learn to love humans and sorcerers as one in the same and to gain the trust of his community once more— not to love you.

“Okay, before you judge me, at least give me a chance to explain myself.” Stumbling towards Geto, you accidentally trip over your own feet in embarrassment, and proceed to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. “It’s freshly cut. I saw a bouquet in the window and it caught my eye, because it reminded me of you; but I knew you’d hate a flashy bunch of them so I just bought the one.”

It reminded you of him?

Taking the gift into his own hands, Geto studies it intensely. The rose is a dark shade of red, crimson, or scarlet depending on your vocabulary. The petals are a brighter color while the plushness near the stem turns dark, more sinister as it approaches the thorns lining the sides. Just by looking at the rose, he can understand why it made you think of him. It’s gorgeous, but practically untouchable figuratively and literally. There’s only one angle that he can hold the stem at that doesn’t prick his fingers. Ouch. And he just did the very thing he was being so careful of avoiding.

All his life, he’s never been the kind of person who longed for gifts or compliments, but when coming from the right person…perhaps he is. 

Whilst he struggles to come up with a reply— a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘i appreciate this’— you mentally applaud yourself as you’ve finally found a way to make him speechless…

…but your praise for yourself is short-lived.

He can’t be weak. Not even for you.“I guess it’s not terrible.” Geto throws the flower to the ground and lightly kicks it away with his right foot. As one of the beautiful petals drifts away from the lonely flower, he turns away, not being able to endure the heartbroken look on your face and the offended rose on the floor. Why does he have to be like this? “I’m sure that garbage is all a monkey like you can afford anyways.” Why is he so cruel?

His eyes clench shut as he hears the door begin to close. You’re so gentle even when upset. He admires that about you— you’re the calm to his ever-raging storm, the sailor to his tsunami, and the lifeboat to his wreckage— you’re the most pure-hearted person he knows, and you don’t deserve this awful anger he holds within him. 

Is he…crying?

As tears begin to drip down his cheeks, Geto collapses against the wall with his knees buckling beneath him and his weight crumbling down to a pile of patheticness. He’s just a shell of a man undeserving of someone like you. Soft sobs escape his lips and silent cries fill the hollow room, absent of your joy, crying out until he notices the faint outline of the young rose beside him. With the flick of his hand, he snatches the flower off the ground and lifts the thorny plant with careful hands— finally and truly understanding your meaning behind the gift. This is how you see him? He’s dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, prickling kind people away with his thorns…but when encouraged and supported, he has the potential to become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that is of a blooming rose. 

With the budding rose in his grasp, Geto sits alone. He realizes that he’s only able to become that person with the help of you. You’re the only person that has even come close to seeing him for who he truly is; aside from Satoru you’re the only person who would think of giving such a gift to the number one enemy of the Jujutsu world. You’re the only person who he’s ever come to feel true and honest romantic love towards. 

Geto has to become better. Not only for himself and Satoru…but now, for you.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀i promise i'll post the next 2 parts soon pls be patient :3

[colonelarr0w]

“Baby? It’s late, what are you still doing up?” Suguru asks drowsily from the doorframe that connects your bedroom to the kitchen. He lifts a hand to his eyes, flicking away the last bits of sleep that still cling desperately to his eyelashes.  

You turn to face him with a smile, patterned oven mitt covering one of your hands. In your hand is a steaming tray of cookies, snickerdoodle to be specific. “Well it was supposed to be a surprise, but I made you cookies.” 

Suguru’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion as he walks into the kitchen, glancing curiously at the tray that you lay out over the stovetop, then removing the oven mitt and opening your arms to him. He steps easily into them, wrapping his broad arms around your waist and allowing you to tuck your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.  

“What’d you make me cookies for?” he inquires curiously, tilting his head at you as you step back from his embrace, then folding your hands behind your back. Your lips curl upward in a soft smile, one that he mirrors almost immediately after seeing your own. He couldn’t help it — you always looked so soft around him.  

You bite your lip in thought for a moment, shuffling on your feet as your eyes flick to the still cooling cookies. Suguru watches you intently, still slightly confused.  

“Well…I overheard you talking with Satoru yesterday — you were complaining that the Curses you consume leave a sour taste in your mouth,” you begin, fiddling with your fingers as your gaze momentarily leaves Suguru. Your nails pick at a hangnail, but you don’t tug on it hard enough to remove it.  

“I thought that maybe making something sweet would — you know — get rid of the taste for a little bit.” 

Suguru softens, his lips turning upward in a smile as he reaches his fingers out, tilting your head so that your gaze finally meets his own. He leans down, pecking your forehead softly.  

“Thank you,” he whispers, bringing his forehead down so that it connects with your own. You smile, placing your hand against the one that he has resting on your cheek, stroking a finger over the backs of his knuckles.  

“I love you Suguru.” 

“I love you more, sweet girl.” 

[woooyeahbaby]

How JJK Men Would React to Walking In On You Touching Yourself

warnings: nsfw 18+, established relationships with all characters, you and suguru never had sex before, workaholic!kento, gender neutral!reader (i tried my best, pls tell me if i need to change anything)

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami

a/n: i’d like to thank my friend for the advice when writing this lol, not only did they give me the idea but they also told me little things i could change to make it better.

Satoru Gojo

it was pretty late at night, and satoru told you an hour ago that he’d be home soon. you’d grown impatient waiting, and decided to help yourself. a few minutes after you started, you didn’t hear him come through the front door over the sound of your noises of pleasure. of course he heard you nearly as soon as he came in the apartment, and a stupid smirk formed on his face. he quietly made his way to the bedroom door, just to surprise you even more when he swung it open and stared at you. “oh, what’s this? my baby couldn’t wait? you poor thing…” he closes the door behind him, getting closer to your startled frame laying in his bed. “as cute as it is, i don’t remember giving you permission.”

Suguru Geto

suguru had been teasing you through text all day, sending just the right messages and selfies he knew would get you worked up. you two hadn’t really had sex yet, you’d gotten close to it, but something always ended up changing last second. that didn’t stop you two from sexting almost daily, though. but that only made the both of you hornier. it was only a matter of time before one of you walked in on the other. and that’s exactly what happened. suguru came home from hanging out with satoru, a little quieter than he usually would, and cluelessly walked into your shared bedroom. he expected you to be napping or watching a show, definitely not sprawled out with your hand between your legs. “oh, well this is a sight to see. did you miss me that much? i think you’ll be very happy to learn i missed you too.” a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he approached you, letting you know you’d be in for a long night.

Kento Nanami

you didn’t mind when kento ended up coming home late, sure, it felt a little lonely, but it was manageable. however, it was a little annoying when you were horny and he wasn’t there at night to help you with that. so, when you got the text that said he wouldn’t be home until later, you decided to help yourself. apparently, “later” meant ten minutes later than usual. kento never really made noise when he came home, the only tell of him being there was the sound of jingling keys and footsteps. but you were far too immersed in pleasing yourself that you didn’t hear any of it until it was too late and he’d waltzed into your shared bedroom. “oh, i’m sorry. did i make you wait too long? here, let me make up for it.” it was always his favourite way to de-stress after work.

[brujawrites]

✧ ˚ · . 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 — 

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞," | masterlist | next chapter

contains: suguru x female reader, shoko ieri, college au, modern setting, college!suguru, english major!suguru, pining, slow burn, inspired by lana del rey lyrics, 18+ ONLY MDNI

synopsis: meet reader! see how suguru and reader's paths have crossed before and why we're especially excited to see him in class this final semester. chapter 1 of a series so there's alot of background being set up!! ao3 - kofi - playlist - pinterest

"sometimes I feel like i've got a war in my mind, I wanna get off but I keep riding the ride, I never really noticed that I had to decide to play someone's game, or live my own life -- and now I do. I wanna move out of the black, into the blue,"

— "Get Free", Lana Del Rey

Suguru Geto was so cool to you. He just exudes an air of captivating mystery, a quality that draws you in. You found a reflection of yourself in him — the curious, introspective soul that found joy in dissecting and analyzing literature and movies for the sheer pleasure of finding a deeper meaning in art. This was a stark contrast to the persona you currently inhabited. Ever since you got everything you thought you wanted by joining the sorority, there’s this “hot girl” facade you’ve been keeping up. You had to, at least you tell yourself that. Being Vice President of the sorority, the hair and nail appointments every couple weeks, the packed schedule every single week, consumed by obligations at work, for the sorority, date functions, or mixers with fraternities — it was everything you thought you wanted. 

The past two years had been hard in an unconventional way. You were suddenly best friends with over 60 girls, learning about what it meant to be a ‘sister’, navigating your academic life, new found social life, & trying to not fail miserably. 

Meeting Suguru in Spanish class two years ago may have actually been around the time things started to get overwhelming. The sight of him walking into the bustling lecture hall remains etched in your memory. His raven black hair gracefully framed his cheekbones, a striking contrast to his fatigued expression. He calmly looked around the room for a potential seat when his gaze suddenly met yours, his velvety dark eyes sending what felt like a jolt of electricity through you. Immediately, you looked away, intimidated by such abrupt intimacy. As the moment drifted away, you couldn’t help but steal more glances, mesmerized by the effortless allure of his hair half-tied, and admiring the contrast between his hair and the crisp white of his band tee. Your hungry eyes lingered on the sight of his strong, lightly tanned forearm, the muscles flexing as he set his bag on the ground in front of his feet. 

A small smirk played on your lips as the facts informed the fiction, aligning your romanticized narrative with reality — you liked him. You wanted him… right? It seemed like a recurring pattern, a new infatuation added to your roster each semester, you were starting to hate how your mind went to those places when looking at complete strangers. He settled into his seat a few rows ahead, to your right. The rest of the hour-long class went by as your attention wavered from the professor's lecture to the constant pings of the pledge class' group chat on your laptop, all while thoughts of this enigmatic boy swirled through your mind. What was it about him? Obviously, his looks played a role — he was undeniably attractive! But there was an unspoken allure about him that resonated with you. Something remarkably genuine.

He was attractive, but not like the frat boys you had started to learn — those confident, almost arrogantly charming boys supported by the rowdy group of self identified brothers. Suguru stood apart in that way, his demeanor stoic, shrouded in enigma. You, on the other hand, were no different than those frat boys. Donning your Greek letters, surrounded by sisters at parties or on campus, you exuded a confidence that was empowering. But when you’re all alone, face to face with a cute guy, maintaining prolonged eye contact feels like you’re in over your head. 

A twinge of disappointment grew inside you as the realization set in; you haven’t changed. You hadn’t felt the profound shift you had envisioned when justifying your sorority membership to friends back home. College was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to compensate for feeling like a loser in high school. Encountering someone like Suguru served to remind your of your discomfort within your own skin, in your clothes. Despite this, you pressed on, going through the motions because you thought that was what would make you happy. You thought it was what you wanted. 

That concern quickly snowballed into a full-fledged personal identity crisis, intensifying by the time you were twenty-one. Everyone your age experienced that overwhelming anxiety about the trajectory life seemed to be going in, right? You were pretty aware that these insecurities stemmed from your less than wonderful experiences in grade school. The desire to be accepted, to belong, felt deceptively straightforward but in reality, it was complex. Seeking validation through association of status started to overshadow authentic connections, a realization that took two years to hit. Stepping down from the exhaustive responsibilities of the exec board of your sorority, a position that took way too much time and stress, you now craved a final semester dedicated to your genuine pleasure. No more putting on a facade, no more living for appearances. 

So, when you trudged through the cold, grey January air to your senior seminar to find three or four other students, you immediately slipped into your unnatural facade, feigning interest in your phone screen instead of others around you that actually held your interest. So much for not living up to appearances, you thought silently to yourself when he walked in. 

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent a jolt through you, so seeing him walk into the room sent a surge of excitement swiftly followed by a pang of panic. Today, he looked impeccable. His hair effortlessly framing his features, a brown flannel that accentuated out the deep hues in his eyes, paired with a white crewneck & off-white khakis. Simple, but something about it brought on a flush of warmth over your body. As he moved closer to your side of the classroom, the facade threatened to crumble. Buried in your phone, pretending to text your roommate, Utahime, just trying to avoid the prospect of awkward eye contact or embarrass yourself by speaking to him. 

Your attention is lifted from the screen when the desk in front of you starts to shift. Suguru stood before you, unfastening his backpack, meeting your gaze. You silently hoped your flushed cheeks weren’t betraying your emotions as you offered the boy a friendly grin. After all, the two of you knew each other. A soft smile grew on his lips before he turned away, settling into his seat before class.

Yeah, you think to yourself, recalling that you and Suguru had crossed paths before, that it wasn't a fantasy you made up. Last Spring you took that boring poetry theory class together. That professor was super strict & everyone in the class realized it at the same time when he revealed the daunting project: reconstructing a Wikipedia page for an ancient poem. You got a B for the midterm, Suguru got a D and was shocked to see your grade so much higher than his. “Everyone got a super low score,” you remember him rationalizing, a touch of defeat in his tone. There was nothing you could really say back to him thanks to the slight intimidation that comes from talking to someone so effortlessly cool. Handsome, even. 

“Yeah, I’m not entirely sure how I managed that score either. I didn’t really know what I was doing.” You admitted, not intending to mislead, but also recognizing you had no actual insight to give.

“I’m gonna call Shoko and see what she got. See ya later,” he waved before strolling over to the bike rack, phone already at his ear with Shoko on the dial. You tentatively wave back, feeling a peculiar sensation settling in your stomach. You noticed Shoko and Suguru in class together, but they’re dynamic never struck you as particularly flirtatious. They were definitely close though. It was funny for you to think back to the immense crush you had on him the spring semester one year before, only for fall semester to roll by — out of sight, out of mind. And then, there you were a year later.

The digital clock on the wall hit 9:30 right as the professor entered, exchanging morning greetings before setting up the projector. The first class of your last semester is starting now, causing a subtle flutter in your stomach. It was surreal that just four years ago you got lost in this exact building during orientation week. You had experienced a myriad of changes within yourself since starting university. Why did you feel such shame about it? Because it’s not you, you quietly reasoned to yourself. As Suguru adjusted in his seat in front of you, his hair and big shoulders encroaching on your desk space, the subtle whiff of his black-cherry scented cologne served as a gentle reminder of your conundrum. 

Okay, so you’re into him.

This time, you silently told yourself, you’re actually going to do more to get to know him. Usually, your interest in men gravitates towards fraternity-affiliated boys, but after two years of mingling with them, nothing felt truly authentic, worthwhile, or genuine. Reflecting on the time an upperclassman in another sorority was gushing about her parents meeting through Greek life at a mixer — you could barely mask your dismay at the notion of finding a lifelong partner within that circle. Gradually, you learned to adapt to navigate those environments with copious amounts of alcohol among other substances. They served as a mask, veiling the disdain some of those young men would bring out in your expression. Their thoughtlessness with their dicks and carelessness with their words often left you repulsed and disheartened..

“Alright,” the disappointment in your professor’s voice snapped your attention back to the room. “Well, you were expected to have had that reading done for today’s discussion. Given that only two of you have actually taken the initiative of checking their emails before class, we’ll need to end early. Check your email for Thursday’s assignment as I’ll be sending it out briefly.” The sound of zipping bags and shuffling papers filled the room as the Professor’s words trailed off, students preparing to leave. Both you and Suguru remained seated, attentive. Hot, you thought. A man with respect for women speaking. “Thursday’s discussion will cover today’s missed discussion along with the planned agenda for our second meeting. See you then.”

She nodded briefly in your direction, and a faint warmth spread across your cheeks from the unexpected attention. Only two of you completed the reading? That caught your curiosity, and it seemed Suguru shared that sentiment. Pivoting in his seat to face you, his grin returning with your flush. “Hey,” his voice, smooth and gentle, made the corners of your mouth instinctively curve upwards. 

“Hi,” you replied with a playful smirk, casually tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Did you do the reading?” Suguru’s voice lowered, his gaze discreetly scanning a few classmates nearby. You responded with a nod and a soft giggle. 

“Did you?” You teased back, your own voice barely above a whisper. You felt like jelly when he rewarded you with a chuckle. Oh man, you thought silently.

“Yeah, I did. It’s just... none of it really made sense. Wondering if you might have some notes or something you could share,” he admitted as you both gathered your belongings, preparing to leave. You suddenly felt self conscious about your outfit, conscious of his attention. You and Suguru were unintentionally matched with your puffy, white turtleneck and shades of brown from your plaid mini skirt complementing his flannel. The leather knee high riding boots didn’t exactly match his black Converse in style, but certainly in color — you just worried it was too… girly. You hoped he wouldn’t write you off for your affiliation to Greek life. 

“Um, I did read it, but I have a bit of a weird approach... Do you have a class next or are you free for a bit?” the words spilled out before you could second guess yourself. Yes, keep going, you urged yourself silently as you led the conversation with Suguru into the hall. He can’t make assumptions without knowing you, you reminded yourself. He nodded agreeably, indicating he had some time to spare, then suggested grabbing a table at the coffee shop near campus. As you exited the building together, you decided it was time to let him see the real you. 

[damn-stark]

Chapter 1 Angelfish

Chapter 1 of Sugar

A/N- I hope you guys like it!

Warning- Swearing, angst? FLUFF, long chapter

Pairing- Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode- Before episode 2x01

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

What a pretty fish. Its scales are all black, even its little flappy things on its body are black. Its little fins are almost translucent, you’ve never seen one like it before, it’s beautiful, but…lonely.

What a lonely fish.

Not to worry though, you’ll give it company with a fish of your own making, made from your very own technique.

It’s easy to make from the water that already fills the tank, and it’s easy to control as if it were alive too.

The worry that the real fish won’t like it or pay attention does hit you, but luckily the black fish actually instantly grows curious, it spins around the fake fish before it swims away encouraging it to follow. So you make the fake fish move between the plants in the aquarium. It’s like they’re playing a game, and so as to keep up with it you very slowly shift to the left of the aquarium and tilt your head down to follow them with your eyes.

However, that’s when something else appears at the other side of the aquarium, a pair of dark brown eyes, almost dark like the beautiful black fish.

How curious.

There’s a nose too, thin lips, nice high and soft cheekbones, thin eyebrows on a pretty pale face. Albeit the eyes are the most intriguing, they’re easy to get lost into—But what if it’s a figment of your imagination?! Too much waiting for Satoru has driven you insane!

Thus you blink thinking the pair of eyes will vanish, but they’re still there, they’re still looking at you. Hm.

You slowly begin to tilt your head up and never once look away from the pair of dark eyes, nor do they look away. The pair of eyes mirrors your actions and slowly moves with you, managing to heighten your curiosity.

Thus you slowly move to the other side of the aquarium, making sure to stay hidden. And just like before, the other person moves with you. When you reach the right end of the aquarium you slowly walk past the tank as you straighten up and begin to see a tall man in the school uniform. He's very cute, very tall too! He has nice and soft looking black hair held back in a bun, and a strand of hair hanging over his face, adding to his attractiveness; it suits him.

Maybe you should say something…

Fuck, you can’t. Neither of you can, it’s like you’re starstruck.

“It was lonely,” you utter slowly. “I just gave it a friend.” You glance back at the tank and the fish is gone now, of course, you lost concentration so the fish ceases to exist.

“It ate the smaller fish,” he says back and slowly tucks his hands in his pockets.

“Oh,” you mouth as you nod slowly.

He doesn’t look so old. Or not much older than you. Hopefully, he’s at least a couple years older.

“I've never seen you here before,” he points out. “Do you need help?”

If he can help you find your brother then that would be perfect, he seems to have forgotten you were coming today!

“I’m just waiting for someone,” you respond nervously. “Satoru Gojo.”

The guy blinks and sighs. “Yeah, it’s like him to keep women waiting.”

A small chuckle escapes past your lips. “Yeah, I tell him he’ll never find anyone that way. He never listens to me.”

The guy lets out a soft breathless laugh that makes you smile down at the floor all bashfully. It’s kind of embarrassing.

“Have you seen him?” You ask him and slowly meet his gaze again. “He was supposed to be here, like thirty minutes ago.”

The guy scoffs and shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” you grumble. “Tell me about it.”

The guy points his head ahead. “I can take you to him if you want.”

You feel your eyes widen before you nod eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah. That would be nice, thank you….uh? What’s your name?”

The guy smiles a very nice and sweet smile. “Suguru Geto…” he swallows thickly and then redirects your question. “You?”

Geto? What? This guy is Satoru’s friend! This is his friend?!

“Oh my god,” you gasp and begin to grin. “You’re Satoru’s friend! He talks about you often, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” You smile wider. “I'm y/n. Y/N Gojo. Satoru is my older brother.”

Geto blinks in disbelief before he shows off a half grin. “Is that so?” He asks and pulls his hands out of his pockets. “You’re much different than what he’s described you to be.”

You scoff and raise a questioning brow. “That so?”

The guy laughs softly. “Don’t worry though, it’s all good things.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll choose to believe you for the sake of my embarrassment.” You rebuttal teasingly. “Anyway,” you continue and swing to the side. “Will you take me to my brother? I have a few things I need to chew him out about.”

Geto nods and breaks from his spot to begin leading you down the hill. “I’ll join you too then,” he says.

You shake your head. “You’re being too nice. He’s your friend, and my brother. I can do it myself.”

Geto shrugs. “Sure I am, but it doesn’t mean I don't scold him as well.”

You giggle and nod slowly in comprehension. “Well I’ll thank you in advance then. You’ll be the only person to stand up with me against him.” The smile on your face falters. “He’s my parents golden child. The miracle and glory of the Gojo family.”

Geto hums softly. “I can imagine. So that means you didn’t inherit the Limited technique?” He asks as he guides you and steals a quick glance at you.

You shake your head. “Nah, I have an Elemental technique. I can use water, air, and the earth around me. I can conjure up fire and use it as well.” You look over at him and catch his gaze, you notice the curiosity written all over it. He doesn’t look bored, or like he wants to get rid of you fast, he looks intrigued by what you’re saying.

“Really?” He probes. “That must be very powerful. I mean, you’re not dependent on anything that can hold you back.”

“Well, conjuring up fire takes up a lot of energy,” you let him know. “It’s not around us all the time like water, air and dirt. And well…using the elements is heavy. Like a weight. They’re strong, you know.”

Geto nods. “I understand. So that fish then,” he smiles. “Hard?”

You hum and grin happily. “Hardly. Making beautiful things like that is my favorite thing. My favorite though is a fire dragon. Watch.” You stop walking and Geto follows suit and shifts around to face you. “Stick your hand out,” you command.

Geto looks hesitant but he slowly does as you say, letting you take a step closer to him to raise your hand and let your palm hover over his. “It won’t hurt,” you let him know and meet his gaze. “As long as you don’t touch it.”

Geto nods as he holds your gaze. You should’ve looked away right away but you let your gaze linger in his for a moment longer, unable to look away. As if captivated by his eyes.

“Okay,” you whisper, and exhale deeply as you lower his gaze to your hand whilst you touch into your ability that makes your palm begin to glow a bright furious red-orange color. The more energy you use, the deeper you touch into the abilities, and the more the hue spreads out, until it reaches the top of your fingers.

Geto finally looks away from your face and looks down at your glowing palm. As sparks come out of your palm his eyes widen, and his smile softens. Yet that smile then falls as awe overwhelms every single one of his emotions while the flames come out of your palm and slowly create a long dragon with a head, legs, horns and all.

The dragon proceeds to twirl in between the both of your palms before you make it circle around his hand and then spin it around the length of his arm until it’s flying above your heads. Geto doesn’t lose sight of it, and the awe once again lets a grin grow on his features.

“I can create element made creatures,” you interject softly. “By transferring my cursed energy into the elements.”

“Can you use the elements alone?” He asks and blinks to meet your gaze. “Or is creating creatures like more of a solid shot?”

You sigh. “Well it can go both ways, but as of now creating creatures is easier. I have yet to learn how to use the elements alone. They’re…a bit unexpected,” you share.

Geto smiles as he keeps his hand under yours, and you keep yours hovering under his even if the fire made dragon is elsewhere.

“Well,” he says. “I think it’s very impressive. Maybe six eyes and limited is pretty overrated.”

You laugh at his comment, and feel your heart skip a beat and your face slowly get warm. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Let who hear what?” A new voice cuts in, surprising the both of you and making you lose concentration of what you had summoned. When you look to the right there he is, Satoru. Your fucking brother.

All the happiness you felt vanishes, and anger and annoyance takes it’s place as you see his smug face like he hadn’t just left your stranded.

“Y/N!” He greets excitedly and throws his arms out, expecting an embrace.

You clench your jaw and walk to him, you meet him halfway, but rather than embracing him you take the black fur hat off your head, revealing the white hair you inherited from your ever so loving family, and begin to hit him with the hat. “How could you do that to me,” you complain and hit him harder, hoping he’ll get annoyed or mad, but he begins to grin. He finds it amusing. “I was waiting for you Satoru!”

Said man raises his hands in the air and snickers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

You push him back and throw the hat at his face, but he catches it and laughs.

“It’s not funny,” you whine. “You promised you’d show me around and accompany me today, Satoru.”

He sighs and drops his hand to his sides. “I’m here now,” he tilts his head down and you see his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I see you’ve met Suguru Geto. I guess there’s no need for introductions then.”

You glance back at his friend and smile. You bat your eyelashes and step back beside Geto. “Yes, we met. He, unlike you was nice.” You smile at your brother sweetly, knowing him and his attempt to be protective of you.

“Uh-huh,” Satoru breathes out as he begins to push his shades up and nods stiffly. “Well!” He claps and squeezes his way between Geto and you. “Thank you so much Suguru!” He presses the fur hat on your head and then throws his arm around your shoulders. “I got this from here.” He begins to pull me away to continue on ahead.

Albeit you slip from his hold and turn on your heels to face Geto. “Why don’t you come with us, huh? Satoru is going to take me to my dorm to help me. And we might even get some training in! He wants to see how much I’ve grown with my technique, you can see more of what I can do too! Come.”

Geto’s eyes drift to your brother beside you, and stay there for a moment before he looks at you and offers you a tiny smile. “I’ll give you guys space. Maybe I’ll catch you guys training later.”

You sigh and actually feel kind of disappointed. You want to see more of him. He has such a cool way of speaking. “Hm, okay then,” you play it off cool. “Thank you for being kind.” You offer him a genuine smile. “For listening.”

Geto blinks and nods softly. “Yeah. It was nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ll see you later.” He turns, but before he begins to walk away he peers back and looks at Satoru. “Don’t leave her stranded again. Be good to her.”

A giddy smile spreads on your lips, and you can’t help but watch him walk away with awe.

“Tsk. Who does he think he is?” Satoru grumbles.

You snap my head back and glare at Satoru again. “You.” You point at him and stomp over to push him back again. “Why didn’t you at least text me?”

Satoru sighs and turns to continue walking towards the dorms. “I’m sorry! Really.”

You let out an annoyed sigh and quickly make sure to catch up to him. “It’s bad that our parents just left me at the door, basically throwing me out.” You complain in a voice that loses all the anger, a soft tone that finally expresses the sadness hidden behind the anger. “And then you…” you look down and fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t show up. I had to do everything on my own.”

“I’m sorry,” Satoru says again, softer this time. “Did you at least get to meet the other first years?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No. They were out, I think.” You shrug. “I met my teachers. Which by the way.” You look at him. “Why do they have such huge classes? There’s only three of us First Years.”

Satoru shrugs. “It looks nice? I mean that or get stuck in some stuffy office where you can see the teachers pores and smell their coffee breath.”

You giggle. “The principal had coffee and cigarette breath. It was disgusting.”

“Tell me about it.” He says and then ends the conversation in silence.

You’re still upset about what he did so you don’t try to speak to him, he notices and gets ahead of you to turn and face you instead as he continues to walk back. “I didn’t want to say anything,” he interjects, making you lift your gaze to look at him. “But!” He exclaims with a grin on his face. “I got you something. A welcome present.”

The corner of your lips begin to twitch to a smile as your eyes slightly widen. “What is it?” You ask him.

Satoru points back to the path. “It’s waiting in your dorm.”

You can’t help your smile from growing on your features, it seems he always knows how to turn you around. So without waiting a moment longer now that your excitement is pumping in your blood, you clap and encourage him. “Okay! I’ll beat ya there! It better be a good ass present!”

Without hesitation Satoru runs with you to your room, he of course ends up beating you there…but only by a few seconds.

“Okay,” he says as he blocks your door. “Close your eyes.”

You squeal and do as he says, letting him grab your arm so he can guide you inside once he opens the door to your room.

“I really hope I got this right,” he continues on, only getting you more excited. “Keep them closed,” he whispers as he slowly pulls you further inside the room. “Okay…and now open them.”

You don’t wait one second, you pull your eyes open, and there on your bed is a long black box with one single and beautiful word, ‘Chanel’. It’s hard to stay mad at him now, it’s impossible.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” You mutter excitedly and run over to grab the box and open it.

Now you might just die. Oh my goodness! Black leather layered knee high boots from Chanel! The ones you wanted but didn’t get because they sold out. He paid attention. He’s a good brother!

You caress the boots with a bright grin before you then quickly turn and throw your arms around Satoru. “Thank you! Thank you!”

Satoru returns the embrace with gentle force. “See, I knew you’d like them. I hope they’re your size.”

You hug him a while longer before letting go and returning to the boots to check. And luckily they are the right size. You’re surprised he knew. “H-how did you get them?” You ask him as you take the boots out of their box.

“I scoured all of Japan,” he says and walks over to fall on your bed. “Besides uh, Mei-Mei helped me too. Which was a bit easier.”

You hum in comprehension and sit back on the bed to take off your shoe. “I got my uniform today too. Which, the boots shall look good with.”

Satoru grabs a pillow off the bed and hugs it against his chest. “Oh yeah? I’ll have to take a look at the whole thing later then.”

“Wait,” you interject and slowly turn your head to look at him with your shoe in hand. “You didn’t take these from any of those girls you like to talk to did you?” You narrow my gaze on him.

Satoru snickers and takes his shades off while he closes his eyes. “No. Trust me they don’t have such expensive taste. The only people who I’ve seen who have good taste is just you and me. It’s like they don’t know what good quality is.”

You smile with relief and continue to pull on the boot. “Yeah, then again not everyone comes from old rich families who kill evil curses for a fucking living—Sometimes I wish we could’ve been raised like the rich kids I see at the malls. They just live on without an actual worry, creating curses for us to exorcize.”

“Yeah, I suppose, but then again if we were normal we’d be boring,” he mutters lazily. “And the world wouldn’t be blessed with my amazing talents.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance and struggle to put the fucking boot on. But once you do, you end up falling back on the bed beside your brother.

Satoru slowly tilts his head to the side and opens his eyes to look at you with a judgmental look. You meet his gaze and beam at him as you raise your foot. “Look!” You exclaim and point to the boot. “It fits!”

Satoru closes his eyes again and sighs. “Good. It would’ve been a waste of money otherwise.”

You drop your leg and smile at the ceiling. “Thank you,” you say again. “You are forgiven too by the way.”

Satoru hums, but doesn’t respond. He keeps his eyes closed, letting you think that he’s had a long day, or he’s giving into the sleep he never actually fully gets.

“Your friend was nice by the way,” you let him know. “Very cute too.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” he grumbles. “Actually, don't even look at him that way. He’s off limits to you.”

You bat your eyelashes. “Why? Does he have a girlfriend? Is he a player? That’d suck, I mean dealing with you is enough.”

Satoru’s face twists with annoyance. “No. I mean sure, girls like him, but he’s not like that. And you can’t like him because he’s my friend. Mine.”

You scoff. “What, do you like him or something?”

“No! He’s my friend, what if I started to like one of your friends?” He counters sassily.

You glare at him. “You did. And you went out with her! It’s because of you that we’re not friends anymore actually! She said I reminded her too much of you so we couldn’t be friends anymore.” You pout, and Satoru snickers—“Anyway. It’s not like I’m going out with the guy, he’s just cute.” You shrug sweetly. “And that bang really just adds—”

“Shut up,” Satoru cuts you off and slams the pillow on your face.

You groan and take the pillow to quickly sit up and hit him with it, but he’s already on feet. You hear his footsteps towards the door, so you quickly jump off the bed and charge at him. Satoru snickers and quickly opens the door to run out, he tries to slam it closed so you won’t catch him, but you kick it back and run after him.

Thankfully you catch up to him in the middle of the hall, and proceed to jump on his back.

“Get off psycho!” He laughs and tries to grab your face, but you use the pillow and press it against his face. “My hair! My hair!” He muffles and throws himself back on the floor, causing you to land on your back.

It hurts, and you lose the hold on the pillow, letting him easily get a hold of it. “No, no,” you chuckle breathlessly. “Don’t!” You flip around to your other side and sit up on your knees. “I’ll tell mom!”

“Snitch!” He exclaims and pushes himself up to his knees as well. “Moms not here. She doesn’t care anymore. Choose.”

You drag yourself back and shake your head. “No, it’s not fair anymore. You’re stronger than me.”

Satoru gets closer and lifts the pillow, but before he can hit you he lowers the pillow and looks back. You follow his line of gaze and see a pretty girl with short brown hair walking in.

“What are you guys doing?” She asks and sticks a cigarette stick inbetween her lips.

You quickly get up on your feet and shake your head. “Nothing.”

She must be Ieiri Shoko, the only other female student at Jujutsu High.

“You must be Leiri Shoko,” you say excitedly and ignore Satoru as he gets up. “I’m y/n Gojo.” You bow your head softly. “It’s nice meeting you.”

She gets closer but stops as she reaches Satoru’s side. “Likewise. It’s nice finally getting another female classmate. Hanging around boys all the dang time gets annoying.” She sticks her hand out and offers you a sweet smile.

You look at her and then at her hand and quickly shake it. “I hope we can be great friends. After all, we girls have to stick together.” You grin.

Shoko nods. “I absolutely agree.”

“Blah,” Satoru sticks his tongue out in disgust.

You pull your hand away from Shoko’s and look at him with annoyance.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Satoru,” Shoko tells your brother. “I thought you would’ve forgotten.”

“I couldn’t, It’s my little sister,” he mutters back.

You cross your arms over your chest and shoot him a pointed look. Albeit Satoru just smiles at you all innocent like.

“Anyway,” Shoko says and slides her eyes back to you. “Y/N, classes are over for today. Do you want to come to the arcade and then get something to eat? Nanami and Haibara are already there.”

You smile wider and nod without hesitation. “Yeah, that’d be cool. Let me just uh, change to different shoes.”

“Hey!” Satoru calls out as you turn around. “We were going to do something.”

You shrug nonchalantly as you head back to your room. “We can do it tomorrow.”

Satoru scoffs. “Fine. Let me grab Suguru and we’ll meet you girls by the entrance.”

“All right!” Shoko agrees. “Bring your money.”

Much of your life was spent away with your parents at the secluded mansion that was surrounded by green woods, by four tall walls. It could’ve been a lonely life, after all your parents hardly paid attention to you, it seems the servants that worked at the house were better parents. But that’s beside the point, if it wasn’t for Satoru life would’ve been incredibly boring and lonely.

Yet, having a brother did come with consequences. Much of your life was never spent in front of the eyes of your parents, you were always at the side, the afterthought. Much of your life you spent living in Satoru’s shadow. Satoru of course never tried to make it that way for you, but nothing could take away from what he was, special, a miracle.

It was only ever at the private school you want to that it was never the case. A lot of the time people liked to say ‘hey aren’t you Satoru’s little sister?’, but that never much bothered you because to non-sorcerer's all that you were was the rich kids, the weird kids with the white hair. He was never greater than you there. But now? Here at Jujutsu High?

It seems he’s not the only special one here. Sure he exceeds in the category considering his abilities, but here with Shoko and Geto, with your other fellow first years Nanami and Haibara, they won’t go out of their way to make you feel less than anyone. Here you’re the little sister sure, but as of now it doesn’t seem like you’re the afterthought. Here you feel fine with what you got dealt with.

Even if Satoru is still a pain in the ass.

“Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask,” Haibara, a first year guy, interjects carefully. “Why did you come to Jujutsu High late?”

You look away from the screen and look at the kind looking boy. “Oh, I was abroad with my mom. I wanted to get here at the start of the year, but she didn’t plan it out right so it wouldn’t be possible.” You shrug and glance back at Geto playing against your brother. “You’ll have to catch me up on what I missed.” You flash Haibara a grin.

You then lean closer to the screen as you notice Geto is winning, but seeming to falter with the buttons. Which could lead to him to lose and for Haibara, Geto and you to pay for dinner.

You want to help badly, but you just begin to gnaw on your nails to keep quiet and watch him get excited.

Albeit it’s hard staying quiet, plus the level he’s on right now is one you do know, so before you could burst you yell out. “Down! Hit the down button!”

Geto does what you yell out and makes it past the obstacle that leads him to winning. He won.

“Yay!” You clap and then grab Haibara’s arm and shake him out of excitement; he laughs and interjects.

“Good job, Geto.”

Said man gets out of his chair and faces the both of you with a warm smile. A very nice warm smile. “Thanks y/n, you really saved me,” he says, causing you to smile softly. He then proceeds to lift his hand and leave it open for a high-five. It’s unexpected but you don’t leave him hanging or waiting, you let go of Haibara and high five Geto.

It shouldn't, but that does make butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

“We’re tied now,” Haibara points out. “Y/N, win this for us.”

You grin nervously and quickly rush over and slide inside the seat. Now you’re against Nanami, another fellow first year. Haibara says he’s a good player, but if you try you could beat him. So here goes nothing, all for Satoru’s money!

The game starts and right away you go ahead and begin pressing the buttons fiercely. Ahead of you you hear Nanami’s own buttons, but it doesn’t sound like he’s putting that much force against them like you. Which kind of frustrates you just over the thought that he thinks he’s gonna win this. But! Jokes on him because you’re going to win! You!

“Come on you got this, y/n,” Haibara cheers.

You slightly stick your tongue out and lean in a bit to get closer to the screen as you concentrate further on the game. And as the game progresses and gets close to the end it seems Nanami and you are neck to neck, causing you to grow more nervous and frustrated. You even stand out of your seat and basically slam on the buttons.

“Okay the last commands are a combination, up, right, down.” You hear Geto mutter in your ear, making you almost falter, but you don’t let his smooth voice distract you. Instead you listen and get ready. And when the last combination comes you do what he says and that ends the game, causing a screen to appear with ‘winner’ over it.

“We won!” You exclaim and spin around to high five Geto with both hands multiple times, as if instinct. “We won!” You jump and turn to high-five Haibara.

“Good job,” he says with a grin.

You get cocky and shrug. “What can I say? It was a team effort.”

Footsteps approach, so you twist around and see Satoru there with the other two beside him, frowning with disappointment.

“Oh,” you tease you’re brother. “What is that I hear? Tears of a loser?”

Satoru shakes his head. “I'm not crying.”

You press your hands on your hips and smirk at him. “We’ll see when we order our food.” You turn to face your team with a beaming grin. “Where should we go eat guys?”

Geto smiles too and begins to walk beside you as you walk past Satoru. “How about that nice Soba place down the street? I hear it’s a bit pricey but worth it.”

You grin wider. “Oh, I love Soba. Shoko, Nanami, what do you say? Since we won and I just got here, I say Satoru pays for all of us.”

“In that case soba doesn’t sound so bad,” Shoko plays along with Geto and you.

“That nice one down the street is good,” Nanami joins in with a nonchalant voice.

Satoru groans, but he doesn’t argue. You all end up at the restaurant soon thereafter, and after all the excitement, well, the Soba wasn’t so good, everyone agreed to that quietly, but hey! Satoru did pay so it was worth it! And it also turned out to be a nice hang out spot, there’s no pressure to get out, there’s couches and they even have, like, a cafe at the other side. And since no one wanted to go back to school yet you all stayed to hangout.

“So,” you bring up as you put your legs over your brothers. “I’ve had this kind of recurring thought. What do you guys think non-sorcerers think when they overhear us talking about techniques?”

“I got asked once if we were role playing,” Haibara interjects.

You smile in amusement.

“I got asked if I was talking about Pokémon,” Nanami adds. “Which doesn’t make sense whatsoever.”

“They probably just think we were crazy kids,” Shoko says as she lights her cigarette. “Which I don’t blame them, you guys are.”

Satoru scoffs and shares a speechless look with Geto, which makes the both of them snicker.

“Oh, I got one,” Haibara adds as he leans forward to get seen better by everyone. “If you weren't sorcerers what would you be doing? Like what’s your dream occupation?”

“That’s a nice question,” you tell him.

“I know mine,” Haibara continues. “I think I’d like to be a teacher.”

Geto offers him a gentle smile, and Shoko proceeds to answer as she throws her foot on the coffee table in front of you all. “I think I’d still like to be some kind of doctor. Perhaps not urgent care, but something calmer.”

“I can imagine you already.” Satoru cuts in with a half grin. “One minute in the emergency room, ten cigarettes in her mouth.”

You roll your eyes, and Geto and Satoru snicker amongst each other like a pair of girls, making Shoko then slam her foot on the rest of Satoru’s muffin.

“Oops,” she says and then goes back to relaxing.

She’s so cool!

“What about you Nanami?” Haibara asks.

You tilt your head back and see him shrug before he answers. “Maybe like some business man or something.”

“You should be a cop,” you suggest. “You got the demeanor for it.”

“Y/N’s right,” Haibara says sweetly. “I can totally see that.”

Nanami shrugs. “Eh.”

You grin in amusement to his nonchalant demeanor before you lower your head back down. Alas that’s when you see a piece of muffin getting dangled in your face.

“Foot muffin, want some?” Satoru says in a sing-song voice.

You throw his arm back and protest in disgust. “Ew get that away from me!”

Satoru grabs the piece with his other hand and keeps dangling it in front you, even as Shoko interjects again.

“I can totally see Geto being some kind of monk.”

“What no,” Satoru quickly responds. “What about all those girls after him?”

You finally push his hand away and sit up with a disgusted look on your face.

“Oh I’m sure you’d be more than happy to take them off my hands,” Geto counters.

Satoru winks.

“I think, I’d be a model,” you let everyone know before taking a sip of hot coco. “Something like that anyway. I think my white hair could get me far.”

“Oh, I see it, you totally got the face for a model.” Shoko agrees sweetly, making you beam at her—“and I think Satoru would be a bumpkin with daddy’s money, going from club to club.”

“I wouldn’t complain if I turned out to be a playboy millionaire,” he redirects smugly. “It’d mean people would be envious of me.”

You roll your eyes, and unknowingly Geto and you both groan at the same time. Neither of you say anything on the matter though, you just meet each other's gaze and share a small smile before you look away and grab your mug.

However, that’s when you come to find that its empty. When just before it had half of it still there.

“Satoru,” you whine. “What’s your problem?”

Your brother shrugs nonchalantly, making you groan in discontent before you get up. “I’m going to get more,” you let them all know as you jump over Shoko’s legs and make your way to the counter.

“I’m going to get more too,” you overhear Geto interject, making you smile all giddy like.

“Make it to go you two, we should go home,” Nanami says.

You throw a thumbs up as you reach the counter, and the nice worker quickly tends to me. As you’re about to pay someone interjects from behind you.

“I’ll get another cup of the same tea,” you recognize Geto order close behind you. “Make it in a to go cup please.��

“Will that be together?” The worker asks.

“Yes. I’ll pay.”

You drift your eyes to the corner and notice how close he is. You can feel his warmth now, it makes the butterflies once again flutter around inside you. Your face also begins to get all warm, and this time you grow stiff.

It’s a familiar feeling, but it’s never been so intense, never has it made you this nervous.

“Thank you,” you direct at him as the worker takes his money.

Geto looks down at you and smiles brighter. “No problem.”

He has very nice eyes. They’re soft and bright, full of life. You feel intimidated talking to him, but you build up the courage for your own sake.

“Here’s your change,” the worker cuts in.

Geto shakes his head. “Keep it.”

The worker bows their head and smiles softly. “Thank you, and your order will be ready at the end of the counter,” they let you both know.

Geto nods. “Thank you.”

We both turn and head down. The courage to talk falters, but you can’t have it be awkward, you’ll be classmates too so the atmosphere can’t be awkward. It’d kill you if it was.

“You never answered Haibara’s question,” you bring up. “What would you like to be if you weren’t here?”

Geto glances at you and then looks away and grabs his chin as he thinks. “Hm. Well…” he pauses and hums for a moment before he pulls his hand off his chin and looks at you again. “I think I’d be content helping people,” he says. “Regardless of what I don’t have.”

You smile softly at his answer. “Hm. I like that answer,” you answer honestly. “It’s very you.”

Geto chuckles. “Is it? How would you know that?”

You smirk. “I've got you figured out. Just by your smile,” you let him know.

“Give it to me then,” he probes.

You reach the counter and you lean back against an empty table. “Well, since you were scouted you had a choice to come to Jujutsu, so you chose to come to help the powerless, help those like the ones you were raised around. And your ego isn’t as big as my brothers.” You grin at him. “Did I get it right?”

Geto scoffs in amusement. “Well, that's the gist of it. Now you,” he points at you with his pinky finger as he grabs his chin and studies you. “You got thrown here with no other choice. You fought against it, you wanted to be something else, but your parents are strict, and you still want to make them proud even if you won’t admit it.”

Tsk.

“And you’re not afraid to be who you are because of all the attention they gave your brother,” Geto finishes.

You scoff and avert your gaze as you feel slightly exposed. “Well yeah. That’s it exactly, but,” you add and roll your head up to meet his gaze. “I don’t much mind being here. I like helping, I mean we got the abilites we did for a reason, so I think it’s best not to let it go to waste.”

Geto grins and nods softly. “Well,” he touches his chest. “I got to say I’m impressed. A girl after my own heart.”

Hm? What?

Damn. Your face is getting all hot. Why did he have to say that?

“Your drinks?” The worker interrupts, pulling your attention to them holding the cups with a sense of urgency on their face.

“Oh, sorry,” Geto apologizes and takes them from their hands.

When did they announce that they were out in the first place? Must’ve been when you were talking.

“Here,” Geto says and hands you your chocolate.

You offer him a shy smile and take the cup, managing to accidentally brush your fingers against his.

It’s such a small moment, it shouldn’t be thought about again, but you think about it. You think about his touch and how soft it was, how smooth his fingers are. You think about his hand and how big it is. Fuck.

“Thank you, again.” You utter and pull the cup back.

Geto smiles softly at you, and neither of you add anything. You intend to head back to your group but then a claw machine full of cute little plushies steals your attention.

“Oh, look! Let’s go get one!” Without waiting for a response you run over to the machine. You hastily set your cup down on the table nearby and take change out of your purse to quickly insert it in the slot.

Geto catches up, you can see his reflection getting bigger through the glass.

“Watch this,” you say smugly over your shoulder.

“Okay.”

You smirk and begin to move the claw to get a little squid, and without warning you use your cursed technique to manipulate the air inside the machine to move the little plushie towards the target.

“Uh, that’s cheating,” Geto points out.

“Is it?” You act innocently.

Nevertheless, even with help the plushie ends up sliding off the side when you drop it and stays inside the glass box. “What?” You whine. “No way! It’s so rigged!” You turn to face the guy beside you and see him try to stifle his laugh—“If you laugh I’ll bonk you on the side of the head.”

Geto clears his throat and begins to smirk. “Watch me,” he says and takes your place in front of the machine. “You have more coins?”

You nod and pull them out from your bag to insert them in for him. Geto then begins to move the claw and just like you did, he uses his own technique and summons small little spider curses to help him pull up a little pink dragon.

“Hey!” You exclaim. “Who’s cheating now?”

Geto blinks to meet your gaze and then shoots you a wink.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest and continue watching him regardless. And unlike you, his curses actually end up helping him win.

“Difference is I actually won,” Geto shows off as he bends down to collect the pink dragon.

You stick your tongue out and just collect your chocolate cup off the table.

“Wait,” he interjects.

“Come on you two!” Satoru calls out and waves you both over. “Let’s go!”

You acknowledge him but turn towards Geto first. That’s when you see him hold the pink dragon out towards you. “Here,” he says softly. “Keep it.”

You glance at the plushee and then at him cautiously. “Really?” You query.

Geto shoots you a soft smile and nods. “Yeah. It’s for you.”

You smile and take the plushee. Yet as you do you don’t pull it from his hand right away, nor does he pull his hand away. You both hold the pink dragon for a moment as you lose yourselves in each other's gazes.

You stay like that for a moment, for a moment that seems to last forever. It’s only until Satoru yells out, “let’s go!” That you take the pink dragon and you both scurry back to the group, and head back home together.

You might’ve come to Jujutsu High late but you’re glad you came.

——

*LATER*

What a way to end a day; a nice warm shower, a good cheesy romantic movie, and…there’s no food.

That bland Soba left you with an appetite—You should’ve gone to the cheaper restaurant, it would’ve been perfect there.

Too late now. Now it’s ramen time.

Maybe you should invite Shoko?

However, a knock raps on the door, piquing your interest. Maybe it’s Satoru?!

You lay the towel down on the desk chair and run over to open the door.

However, the moment you do open the door, suddenly something cold and smooth hits your face, catching you off guard and making you jump slightly.

A booming laugh proceeds to fill the hall, an utterly familiar one that lets you know that your brother is behind this wet thing covering your face.

Albeit another laugh soon joins in too, causing you to wipe the substance off your eyes to see. And the moment you can see again, there’s Suguru Geto beside Satoru. They're both laughing at the fact that you have whip cream on your fucking face.

“That’s for earlier!” Satoru proclaims.

Usually you would have reacted, gotten annoyed and countered his attack, but right now all you feel is embarrassment and disappointment. You don’t even say anything in return, or bother to look longer at either guy, you just turn around and slam the door closed.

So Suguru Geto is just like every other guy?

That’s good to know before you could be blindsided by him and that crush that was growing.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[mayajadewrites]

roommates to lovers–friends to lovers–slow burn

suguru geto x fem reader

synopsis: Suguru Geto is your best friend and roommate. After a year of living together, there have been more than one opportunity to throw away your friendship. The question is, would you get lucky as fall in love for the rest of your days?

ao3

🎧🌙🧺📖🕯️🧸🤍

please comment and let me know what you think, i'm very excited about this series 🤍

"Suguru, how does it taste?" You twist your fork into the pasta noodles, hovering the fork over your mouth.

"Maybe if you let me try it, I can give you an answer." Your roommate, Suguru Geto, said flatly. You've been living together for over a year now since you both got "adult jobs" you're able to afford the luxuries of life. Like an apartment and food.

"I've given you plenty of time.” You tap your index finger impatiently on the table. You refused to take the first bite, it always had to be Suguru. It's an unspoken rule.

Suguru rolled his eyes, taking a forkful of pasta and slipping it into his mouth. As he chewed, he nodded in approval. "It's great as always."

You smile to yourself, taking a bite of your pasta. You tried a new recipe today, making your own homemade sauce. Suguru is always down to be your guinea pig when it comes to new recipes. The only reason he doesn't forget to to eat is because of you.

"So, any plans for your birthday?" You ask innocently, when in reality you already planned a surprise party for Suguru at your apartment. You already invited his friends: Gojo, Nanami, Shoko, and Haibara. Suguru didn't have many friends. Unlike his best friend, Satoru Gojo, he is quiet and well spoken. He doesn't think rashly, or act on impulse. Everything Suguru Geto does is well thought out, almost calculated.

"Nope." He put a 'pop' sound at the end of the word. "I plan on staying in and reading the new book I just picked up."

"Ooooh." You're interested in what the book is about. One thing you and Suguru have in common is your love for reading. Being able to escape your reality and dive into another one is a feeling unlike any other.

"It's a thriller, the woman at the bookstore recommended it to me." Suguru sipped his water, taking his last bite of pasta.

"She gives you recommendations now?" You asked, almost in an accusatory way. You switched your tone when you noticed the attitude flying off your tongue. "She's never said 2 words to me."

"Yeah, we got talking the other day when I was in there." He got up to put his dishes in the sink, grabbing your bowl to go with it. "She looked like she needed someone to talk to."

I bet she likes him. You thought to yourself. Suguru hasn't brought any women back to your apartment in a few months, nor has he talked about any women he's interested in. Go figure he would meet one at a bookstore. How... romantic.

You wiped your hands on your apron, getting any residue off your fingertips. You heard Suguru turn on the sink behind you, starting to wash the dishes.

If you cooked, Suguru cleaned. Always.

"Suguru, can you help me with this?" You try to untie your apron, noticing you made a knot.

"Sure." He turned off the water, careful not to waste it. He made sure to dry his hands before his fingertips grazed your shoulder, sending goosebumps across your skin. "Damn, you really made a knot." He pried at the knot, finally getting leeway. His left hand stayed on your shoulder as he pulled one of the ties, letting the front of the apron fall. Suguru reached for the other knot near your waist.

"I can get it." You start messing with the knot.

"Okay miss independent." Suguru stayed close behind you as you struggled with the ties. His eyes could've burned a hole in your neck.

You sighed, admitting defeat. "Fine." Your hands fall to your sides.

"That's what I thought." Suguru's voice was soft as he untied the knot at your waist.

You and Suguru have had a handful of "almosts" together. Almost getting too close. Almost tasting him.

You've both chose to forget every spark between you, for better or for worse.

"For the record, you can still call me miss independent. It has a ring to it." You slipped off your apron, hanging it up on the hook adjacent to the refrigerator.

"Yeah, yeah." Surugu turned around to start the dishes again. You stared at the back of him for a moment, his long black locks cascading past his shoulders, half of the volume of his hair up in a bun. His shoulders are wide as you scan down his body, the muscles of his biceps moving to wash the bowl you were just eating out of.

You snap yourself out of whatever trance you're in, grabbing your lighter to light your "marshmallow fireside" candle. You and Suguru's place was always cozy and clean, almost like the two of you.

It feels like home.

You heard the water turn off, letting you know that Suguru is done with the dishes. "Mm, I love marshmallow." You heard him breathe in through his nose, taking in the sweet marshmallow scent.

"I know, I got this candle for you for Christmas, remember?" You grabbed a blanket from the rattan basket in the corner, snuggling yourself on the couch.

"Speaking of marshmallow." Suguru opened the freezer, grabbing a pint of ice cream that read 'Campfire S'mores'. "I grabbed this after the bookstore. Looked like something you would like."

"You mean we, you know you're a sucker for s'mores."

Suguru smiled as he grabbed two spoons, bringing the pint to the couch. He sat next to you on the couch, offering a spoon to you.

"Thanks, Sugu." You smile, draping the blanket over his lower half.

You spend the rest of the night watching trash TV and eating ice cream with your best friend.

[thinkofmehoney]

The city of my heart

Chapter one.

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto

Summary: In the bustling city, Satoru and Suguru's paths cross again after so many years, intertwining their lives in unexpected ways. As single parents navigating the complexities of raising kids and confronting personal demons, they find solace in each other's company. Unbeknownst to them, a long-buried flame rekindles, and their journey becomes a delicate dance between friendship, love, and the challenges that come with second chances.

Or

Where Satoru sees Suguru at his kids’ school after twelve years without seeing each other. Oh and Suguru has twin daughters, just to add up to Satoru’s shock.

(click for Ao3 version)

Warnings: None for now, but I’ll treat sensitive topics later on, probably after chapter 5 or so.

Contents: Non Sorcerer AU, single dad Satoru x Single dad Suguru, friends to strangers to lovers (kinda)

Notes: (I almost forgot to mention, Satoru comes from a wealthy family in this au) I’m blindly trusting my past self who wrote this and made all the calculations, but if there’s any mistakes in dates or characters ages and etcetcetc, please forgive me 😭. I’ll add more notes at the end, my brain is empty rn.

(3.1k words)

Satoru's house was a mess, It was like a earthquake just destroyed everything in sight, there was empty boxes of school supplies on the floor, clean clothes scattered on the sofa and chairs, a bag of hair ties that seemed to have exploded... in reality, it was something way less tragic than a natural disaster. Satoru and his kids were getting ready before school.

He was just as nervous as Megumi and Tsumiki for their first day of school, if not more. He changed clothes almost four times before deciding that a white button down and black pants will do.

In record time, he had the frozen waffles ready to eat on the table, along with hot chocolate for him and Megumi and a cup of tea for Tsumiki, because she thought that Satoru’s breakfasts were way too sweet.

Satoru was fixing the tie of a grumpy Megumi. "Leave it! I don't wanna wear this stupid tie anyways." After some fixing on his uniform, Satoru finally let him free to eat his waffles.

"But you look fancy, Meg!" He sat down with them and looked at the watch on his wrist, they still had 10 minutes to eat their breakfast. "It's only for the first days though, after that you can take it off, they won't care."

When Satoru was about to get up and get more chocolate syrup, he noticed Tsumiki, only ate about 1/4 of her plate. He softly stroked her hair. "What's wrong princess? is it too sweet? We still have time to make toast." She denied with her head.

"It's not that, the waffles are great." She smiled politely. "I'm just nervous… What if I don't make any friends?" Satoru’s heart squeezed, Tsumiki seemed genuinely worried looking down and fidgeting with her fingers.

"You will, baby, I can promise you that." While he spoke, he picked Tsumiki's knife and fork to cut the waffles in smaller pieces. "Everyone is gonna be nervous, it's the first day after all, so you are all gonna be on the same page. Maybe the first day you won't have a best friend or something like that right away, but by the end of the week i'm sure you'll have your group."

He smiled reassuringly at her, who now felt more confident. He picked one small waffle with the fork and put his other hand under it in case it fell, "Now, eat this waffle I made with love for you." She smiled and ate it happily.

"But you didn't make them, you just put them in the toaster and they're not even defrosted all the way," Megumi said with a grumpy expression on his face as usual, but Satoru knew that picking on him was his unique humor and also his way to show affection, even though the kid wouldn't admit it. "It had some ice inside from the freezer."

Satoru got up and walked towards Megumi and his empty and almost squeaky clean plate. With ice or not, Megumi liked the frozen waffles. "Damn relax, no one was going to take the waffles away from you Meg." He joked as he brought the plate and empty mug to the kitchen.

He left the dishes on the sink and looked at his watch again, his eyes widened when he noticed that the ten minute breakfast turned out to be fifteen. He sprinted to the main entrance, "Kids, go wash your teeth quickly, I'll start the car!"

𓈒 ݁ ₊

Satoru drove his car through the busy morning traffic, glancing in the rearview mirror at his two children sitting in the backseat, a mix of excitement and nervousness on their faces as they anticipated their first day at their new school.

Satoru grinned and began chatting enthusiastically, his words flowing to reassure them, even if they didn't respond much. "You two are going to do great! Just calm down, and remember, it's a fresh start with new friends and new adventures. You're both very smart children, this year will be great!"

Even though Megumi had slightly frown eyebrows, inside he felt at ease after Satoru’s words. And Tsumiki's face lit up with a smile. When they arrived, Satoru carried their backpacks until the entrance, but Megumi thought something was off when he noticed that Satoru walked with them inside the school.

"Why are you coming with us?" Megumi looked at Satoru with a raised eyebrow, and he was checking his phone, reading something.

"There's a welcoming act at the school’s auditorium for parents and students, the principal will give a speech and blah blah blah." after reading some texts, Satoru smiled at the screen. "But Nanami told me that there will be a table with snacks." Megumi snorted and Tsumiki looked at Satoru with a side eye. "With how expensive this school is, the least they can do is offer me a cup of tea." He said in between his teeth.

"Don't do anything embarrassing, please." He walked ahead of his sister and Satoru, already feeling embarrassed that his dad was walking with him inside the school like he was a little kid that could get lost.

"And don't flirt with Nanami, he's gonna be our teacher now." Tsumiki added seriously.

Satoru was flabbergasted at both of his children, but still a little bit entertained. "Wha- I'm not gonna embarrass you or flirt with anyone! You guys think too little of me!". They finally got to the school’s auditorium, the teachers were guiding the kids to their sits by grade, so Satoru would go sit behind where the parents were. "Okay go to your seats and listen to your teachers, I'll go grab a cup of tea." he ruffled their hair one last time to then go to the snack table.

When he got there he saw Nanami, just like they said on text messages. The speech and Welcome Act hadn't started yet so the majority of the kids were sitting while the parents grabbed a coffee and talked with each other.

"Nanami! How are you?" He greeted his friend with a brief hug and backslap, looking at him up and down when they separated. "Lookin' good." He said flirtatiously, enjoying the playful banter that often annoyed Nanami.

The blond man just rolled his eyes and sighed, "I'm good, thank you. How are you? it's Tsumiki's last year before high school isn't it?"

Satoru sighed with a proud smile, glancing in her direction for a moment. "It is, my little girl is all grown up now." He looked down at his cup of tea with a hint of nostalgia. "I hope her high school years will be the best years of her life." Nanami's gaze softened at his words.

"I'm sure she'll have a great time, she's the sweetest kid ever; you've done a great job." Satoru chuckled, moved by his friend’s words, and playfully hit his arm.

"C'mon Nanami, you're gonna make me cry and Megumi already told me not to embarrass him." Satory wiped a fake tear from his face and Nanami laughed tenderly at Megumi’s words.

"Megumi is the best, he's the only one that keeps you humble." They kept chatting about the kids and their jobs, discussing on which students were more difficult to deal with: the college students, because Satoru was a professor, or the little noisy kids that Nanami taught. But suddenly something, or rather, someone familiar caught Nanami's attention.

A few meters away from them, he recognized a tall man with black straight hair tied in a half bun, who also wore black ear gauges. He haven’t seen that man in ages, so he could be wrong, maybe it was a mistake, his eyes were probably deceiving him, but no, it really was...

"Isn't that Suguru Geto?" Nanami abruptly interrupted their conversation while squinting his eyes.

After hearing that name, Satoru's blood froze automatically on his veins, and Nanami could tell by his mortified expression.

Satoru hasn't heard his name coming from anyone in a really long time. At first thought he didn’t heard Nanami correctly, because there was just no way. Was his sugar addiction finally getting to him? Has he finally started hallucinating?

He decided to slowly turn around to see where was Nanami looking at, and he didn't knew what to expect, the most realistic thing that could happen is that when he turned around he'd see someone that looked like him, and nothing more.

But oh there he was.

And he wasn't alone, he was with two little girls about the same age as Megumi, and they wore the same uniform as Tsumiki. Satoru couldn't believe this, being realistic, he never imagined that he would be seeing him again, specially there and with two kids.

His one and only best friend, whom he considered him to be the person he has been the closest to, the person he trusted the most, and that still felt like someone important to him even though the last time they saw each other they were about seventeen years old.

Things didn’t stop there, he felt his heart dropping to the floor when those violet eyes caught a glance of his own, completely defenseless. They both stood there, looking at each other like a bucket of cold water just fell over their heads, this had to be a sick joke of some kind.

Satoru felt the need to get closer, to say something, anything. It felt like he was bewitched, but just when he was thinking about breaking the distance and take the first step, Tsumiki appeared in front of him with a hair tie on her hand.

"Dad, can you put my hair on a ponytail? the speech is about to start and they'll take pictures." Satoru seemed to be on a trance, so Tsumiki tugged on his shirt. "Dad! hurry up!"

Satoru looked at her and chuckled nervously, "Sorry love... there you go, now go to your seat." His daughter thanked him and walked back where she came from. But when he looked up he couldn't find him anymore.

Nanami could only imagine how this moment felt for Satoru. After all, he just saw his best friend after twelve years. He put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "Hey, are you alright?" His friend sighed distressed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Can I go to your place this evening? I just... need to talk about this."

"Of course, you're welcome whenever you need it." Satoru smiled, he felt so glad to have a friend like Nanami.

"Okay but don't get too excited, we're just going to talk, that's all." Nanami rolled his eyes and slapped the back of Satoru's head.

"How can you still make your perverted jokes in a moment like this?" Satoru just laughed, and sighed hopeless.

"I don't know, I think i'm going insane."

𓈒 ݁ ₊

Satoru arrived at Nanami's apartment at 7:30 PM, they both had to work the day after so they decided to meet early, that way Satoru could be back home and sleeping at 10:00 PM. They had to admit that they felt old for calculating the time to get home and sleep, they weren’t the same boys from college.

Nanami got himself a whisky on the rocks and a glass of sweet wine for his friend as they sat down on the balcony. Satoru and Nanami met in high school, but became good friends after graduation, and after all those years they've known each other, he has never seen Satoru as stressed as he was right now, not even once.

"Nanami, what should I do?" His leg bounced up and down and his fingers ran through his white hair, then he rested his forehead on his hand. "Should I talk to him or should I just pretend like I didn't see him?"

"I don't think that's going to work, you'll see him pretty often, you know?" He took a sip from his cold glass, "His daughters are Megumi's classmates." Satoru’s eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh shit, I forgot that he has two daughters." Nanami wanted to laugh at Satoru’s comment and the expression on his face.

"So? You literally have two kids yourself."

"But what if he's married or something?" Nanami raised an eyebrow, and Satoru just chugged his wine like it was a shot, probably not wanting to taste the liquor since he wasn't used to drink.

"Would that... be a problem?" The blue eyed man just sighed, frustrated with his own confusing mix of feelings.

"No... yes. Ugh, I don't know, maybe?" his hands rubbed his face, trying to dissipate his exhaustion and stress. And now Nanami was truly confused, he wasn’t expecting such an ambiguous answer from him.

"Wait a second, are you telling me... that you feel something for Geto?" Nanami couldn't believe it, did Satoru really felt something for that man? Even after all those years had passed? Satoru’s face told him all he needed to know but didn't want to hear.

"I don't think I've ever stopped having some sorta feelings for him." It was something crazy, but Satoru seemed sincere about it. Still, Nanami couldn't wrap his head around it. “I really liked him back then, at the time I could even say that I loved him but, I was too young and realized too late.” He smiled with nostalgia at the bittersweet memories.

"But it's been twelve years!" Nanami was shocked, but Satoru seemed just so certain about it, even though it’s been a decade without even talking to him. The blond man suddenly felt like he was the only sane person in that apartment.

"Believe me, I'm well aware that it's been twelve years... I think about it more often than I should." Melancholy slowly filled his eyes. "We had a fight before he left, that's the last time we said something to each other." Nanami tilted his head slightly.

"So you guys broke up in bad terms?" Satoru looked at him confused at first, but then he understood, he could just chuckle nervously.

"Oh we weren't together, I never even got to tell him that I had a crush on him." He had to be joking, Nanami thought.

"What? You guys were just friends?" Satoru nodded with a sheepish smile, "But- I remember you two were like an old married couple. And what was the fight even about? Can't you just tell me the whole story?" Nanami simply couldn't understand them, but he didn't knew if asking was a good idea after seeing Gojo with a melancholic glaze on his eyes as he thought about his past.

"I remember when we were around sixteen or seventeen, I think that's when I noticed that Suguru started to act different... He seemed more tired and distant, he started to get thinner and his hair was tangled and undone instead of in a bun like he always had it." He swallowed the lump on his throat that wanted to break his voice, the memories of a young Suguru just slowly shutting down was something that made him want to cry.

Satoru continued. "I didn't know for certain what was happening to him, but I could tell that he wasn't in a good place, so I always tried to cheer him up and make him feel better, but I guess it wasn't enough." A treacherous tear rolled down his cheek, he wiped it quickly pretending it didn't happen. Nanami, witnessing this vulnerable side of him, was taken aback. "And when he left I felt lonelier than ever, it reminded me of when I was a kid... Suguru was the only person that truly understood me, unlike everyone else I've ever met. With him, everything seemed just so bright, so comforting. He saw beyond my last name and status, he appreciated me for who I actually was." Another shaky breath escaped him, revealing the depth of their connection.

Seeing him crying was something difficult, Satoru was someone strong, someone you could hardly ever see being sad or vulnerable, but he was always there for anyone that needed him. Nanami immediately offered him a tissue and tried to comfort him, whispering "It's okay."

"When I realized that his decision was already taken and that he was leaving the city... I told him that he was just, running away from his problems instead of facing them, and that he- he didn't care about our future or our plans and... I think what hurt him the most was when I said that he didn't cared about us, I can't get the look on his face off my mind." His hand ran through his hair, and he finally turned to look at Nanami, "I think that… Suguru was my first love, I've never had anything like what I had with him, and I never will again."

There was a silence, Satoru tried to steady his breaths while Nanami just processed everything that he said. He knew those two were close, but he didn't knew they were that important to each other, even though he thought that they were dating, he imagined that it was just a high school sweetheart.

"I think this is your chance to talk to him." After meditating it, he thought that it was the best option for him, but Satoru looked at him with wide and teary eyes, like he was asking for more advice. "If you two are in this situation right now, where your kids go to the same school and that you'll see each other again often... I think that you should try and at least keep things peaceful with your so called «first love»." Satoru looked down and laughed softly.

"Easier said than done..." His phone buzzed on his pocket, he checked it and it was a picture from Choso, his babysitter and also his student. It was a picture of Tsumiki sitting on the couch and doing a peace sign with her hand, next to her Megumi covered his face with a drawing he made of an animal that seemed like a magic wolf.

He dried his remaining tears with his sleeve and put his phone back in his pocket. "I better get going, Choso has to study for an exam."

"You better give that kid extra credit." Satoru chuckled. They walked to the main entrance and before his friend left, he stopped him to talk "Satoru, if you need to talk, or if you need advice or even if you need someone to take care of your kids, don't doubt asking, I'll always be here okay?" Satoru felt really moved by his words, but he couldn't resist to pick on Nanami.

"I will. Thank you, seriously." He smiled. "Oh, and don't call me Satoru, I get flashbacks from college." Nanami almost laughed when Satoru winked at him.

"If nine years ago I knew that you would still bother me 'til this day, I would've thought about it twice before sleeping with you."

Notes: I thought Nanago hooking up in college would be funny teehehe. Ahh I’ve been wanting to post this fic for so long, but now it’s finally here!! Feedback is greatly appreciated <3

[neonscandal]

Reflection in Reverie

Pairing(s): Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo

Genre: Angst, Reflection

Tags: Past Geto & Gojo, Suguru Geto-centric

Chapter Word Count: 4.2K

Status: Completed

Summary: Time never stopped Geto from questioning his path forward but, to allow those thoughts to linger, would jeopardize everything.

EXCERPT

Suguru whipped his head around to look at Satoru once more, searching for his eyes which were now cast downward. Suddenly, pieces of their conversation snapped into place in his head, even if it didn’t all make sense. Maybe this creepy kid could see things, too. “Gojo-san, do you-?”

A/N: I just write stuff just to write stuff. But the oscillation between surname and given name is intentional.

How long had it been? Since sleep began to come easy again, since the pounding of water stopped sounding like ignorant applause? Geto gripped the edge of the bathroom sink, head bowed somberly, unable to meet his own reflection. His breaths were ragged as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. The dreams that infrequently soured his slumber were fewer and further in between but they haunted him just the same. Some nights were easier to recover from but the howling wind and ceaseless rain seemed to make it harder. As the porcelain beneath his fingers began to feel warm against his touch, he shook his head, his long, loose hair pooling languidly, and slid his hands further up to find a cooler resting place.

It was only a matter of time, after all, before his racing thoughts, stirred by bitter nostalgia, would twist their way to somewhere before he embarked on this crooked path. In his youth, he’d never have imagined straying so far.

Perhaps that was the gift of naivete.

--

Suguru was no stranger to the horrors nighttime would bring. He was barely eight when he saw his first curse. Something wretched and inexplicable. It chilled his blood to watch it, mired by its throng of twisted limbs, trying to claw its way to him. That first night, he’d let off a bloodcurdling scream for his parents who arrived moments later, flipping the light switch on with a start.

By some stretch of the imagination, he’d hoped the light would bring with it the realization that the impossible sight before him wasn’t there at all. As his father rushed into the room and past the creature, it became apparent that it was not a figment of his imagination. He shook and sputtered, pointing to that which his parents couldn’t see. Even with his pajamas damp with sweat and his hands trembling in terror, upon giving the room a once over, his parents called it a nightmare. They allowed him to sleep in their room, certain that would assuage his inexplicable fear.

It took hours for sleep to find him and, upon return to his room the next day, he was startled to find that the creature had not only remained but had dragged itself toward his door.

Suguru edged the perimeter of his room trying to escape its proximity. His parents, understanding at night, had less patience during the day as they were slaves to their routines and obligations.

“Suguru, there’s nothing there!” his mother chided as she forcibly dressed him, his limbs stiff and petrified.

His eyes, wide and scared, never left a spot just over her shoulder. To emphasize his senseless worry, she threw her head back to look and laughed at a pile of toys.

“Is this what scared you last night? Perhaps if we put our toys away, they wouldn’t shift into the stuff of nightmares when the lights go out,” she sighed, lifting the discarded playthings into a chest at the foot of his bed. “Now that that’s settled, can you be a good boy for Mommy?”

Tears welled in the corner of his eyes as he watched his mother seemingly step through the monster that persistently scratched its way across his room. Even as his breath caught in his throat, he nodded slowly. “Yes.”

With a tightlipped smile, his mother wrapped her hand around his and guided him to the breakfast table where he pushed food around his plate until it was time for school.

Suguru was an only child. His parents, who’d had him late in life, were not the type to coo and babytalk to him, so he’d grown up with speech and a disposition that was abnormally a bit more mature than that of his peers. There wasn’t a marked difference, but it was enough that he was generally less whimsical than his classmates. Even so, when faced with an abomination adults couldn’t see, he had to seek out information. He wasn’t particularly close with any of the other students at school so, when independent reading began and everyone scrambled to find a book from the classroom library, he muttered quietly to his neighbor. “Have you… have you ever seen a monster, Amamiya-san?”

“Huh?” blinked the young boy, his bowl cut hung dangerously close to his eyelashes.

“Like a scary monster. Or a yokai?” Suguru pressed despairingly, his bangs cut through one of his eyes like a blade of grass.

“No.. those aren’t real,” Amamiya sighed, bored.

“What if they were? What if they’re in your bedroom?” Suguru asked.

“My mommy and daddy said they aren’t,” his eyes rolling.

“I’ve seen one. In my room. I just-“

“What’s going on here, boys,” the teacher’s assistant asked pleasantly.

“Geto-kun is being weird and he’s trying to scare me.”

“Aht. That doesn’t sound very nice of either of you. Let’s apologize and grab our seats.”

“But Miss, can I-can I ask you a question?” Suguru pressed as a last-ditch effort.

“How can I help you?” his teacher asked, squatting to his level.

Suguru’s voice barely registered above a whisper, “there’s a monster in my room, do you know how to get rid of it?”

The teacher briefly let out a breathy laugh before her eyes settled on the child’s face which looked as though it had been drained of blood. “Has he looked like this all morning?” she wondered.

The resulting parent teacher conference and home visit did nothing to resolve Suguru’s unwelcome guest, but the reaction from his peer and the harsh words from his parents pressured him to talk about it less and less. It became a burden that weighed heavy on his chest any time he retired to his bedroom.

Days went by where he slept less and less and tiptoed around the offending beast more and more, hoping it would never learn to maneuver the countless legs and arms that wrapped itself around its body. But night after night, the ceaseless scratching persisted, followed by the dull drag of flesh over tatami.

It took over a month before the creature was at Suguru’s bedside. His hair grew unruly and, while his mother had taken to pulling it back into a bun, she never took much notice that it emphasized how his cheeks had thinned or how sunken his eyes had become.

Suguru found safety in the moments when her brush passed through his hair, confident that whatever fate awaited him in his bedroom would not come for him while her hands worked their way through his tangled strands. It was the only time he felt secure enough to steal some sleep. The anxiety of the monster’s presence caused him to stop eating and he began having trouble focusing in class. Since he couldn’t risk a deep sleep in his own bed, the occasions where he’d dozed off in class led to detention and more calls home followed by more an oppressive frustration from fighting between his parents. No one seemed to bother with the root cause of his issues, begging instead for him to simply behave and stop acting out. He’d resigned that he’d be a victim of this persistent monster even as he pressed himself into the furthest corner of his bed after his father turned off the lights.

He felt a tug catch on the comforter as the monstrosity caught hold and tried to hoist itself up, encroaching closer still. Suguru shuddered fearing to cry out and draw the ire of his parents. He was at a loss, even as the very real threat made itself known, tugging harder and harder. As its disfigured flesh became visible over the edge of the mattress, panic began to set in. He swallowed thickly before lunging forward, desperately trying to push the creature away. Suddenly, and without explanation, the creature whirled in on itself, writhing into a black ball beneath his outstretched hand that dropped and rolled across the floor.

Suguru, uncertain as to what happened, breathed shallowly hoping to hear the struggle of the beast that’d been mere feet away from him moments before. Hearing nothing of its movement, he crawled to the corner of his bed and eyed what looked like a jumbo-sized obsidian marble, reticently. He didn’t dare climb out of bed lest the unsavory intruder be lurking somewhere out of sight, poised to attack. He scurried back to the corner of his bed, straining his ear for any foreign movement. Eventually his hypervigilance gave way to uneasy rest.

The next day, no monster greeted him. Just the fist sized ball the creature seemed to have disappeared within. Had Suguru have been a normal kid, he probably would have likened it to a Pokeball that had captured the monstrosity, but he had no such frivolous comforts. He gingerly approached the ball, deeply squatting over it before stretching out an inquisitive finger.

“Suguru! Breakfast!” his mother called, interrupting his thoughts. He shrank away from the ball once more before decisively grabbing it and forcing it into the pants pocket of his uniform.

Breakfast passed unremarkably, even as the mysterious sphere burned against his skin. He decided that this egg or, whatever it was, had to have been the monster. Nothing else remained of it. Having determined this, he was resolute in his decision to get it as far away from his bedroom as possible.

Along his walk to school was an expanse of land that lined a wide, placid channel. As Suguru meandered to school, hand rotating the stowaway in his pocket, he decided the best place to discard it may be the rushing waters beside him. He turned toward the chain link fence that prevented people from falling in and looked across the water. The sun hung above a large compound and shimmered a bright white atop the surface of the water.

He pulled the dark orb from his pocket and pressed it fruitlessly between a diamond opening of the fence. “Maybe if I push a bit harder?” Suguru hypothesized, palming the ball and straining against the chain links that bent with a clink to the force but did not yield its opening any wider.

“Maybe you should throw it!”

Suguru was suddenly startled by the disembodied voice, immediately enclosing the ball within his two hands to hide it from sight. He looked around seeing no one along his commute. For a moment, he contemplated whether his condition elevated from seeing things no one else could see to hearing them, too.

“Come onnnnn, throw it!”

This time, Suguru bewilderedly called out, “huh?”

“Over here! This way! Across!”

Suguru looked in the direction of the persisting voice, beckoning from across the channel, and saw a silhouette against the blinding sun waving excitedly at him. The light seemed to envelope the person, features unnaturally eclipsed in front of the sun. Futilely, he raised a hand as if to ward off the brightness.

“Meet me at the bridge! Okay?” the figure called, pointing to an overpass that bridged both sides of the channel.

Suguru wondered how long this exchange had taken, uncertain of how much time he had left before the first bell rang. Even so, the bridge was en route so he rationalized it wouldn’t take him too far out of the way. He slid the sphere in his pocket and made his way as directed.

As he hiked up the crest of the bridge, a young boy shifted into focus, no longer consumed by the sun. The first thing Suguru noticed was his stark white hair, odd for a kid who looked to be his age. It almost blended perfectly into his pale, powdery skin. Perhaps the most stunning of the boy’s features were impossibly blue eyes. “This kid…” Suguru considered adding up all the boys features thoughtfully, “looks weird.” A confused grimace tugged at his features.

If the other boy noticed, he didn’t say anything. “You could probably launch it from here. I don’t know why you thought it’d fit through the fence,” he shook his head, grinning.

“How could you see that? From so far?” Suguru asked, his eyebrows raising in disbelief.

“Heh, I’ve got good eyes,” the mysterious boy tilted his head suggestively toward Suguru, long white lashes stretching toward his equally white eyebrows as daylight twinkled in his mischievous eyes.

Suguru… wasn’t in on the joke, which was readily apparent by his deepening expression of confusion.

The boy seemed to wait for recognition but, seeing none, straightened back up and frowned. “I have really good eyesight,” he deadpanned.

The answer seemed satisfactory enough as Suguru face softened.

“So, what’d you get? A fly head?”

“Huh?”

“In your pocket. Can’t be more than a fourth grade, looking at you,” the kid threw his head back in assessment one eye squinting as it gave Suguru a cursory glance.

The scrutiny almost felt heavy upon Suguru’s skin causing him to murmur distractedly, “I’m in the second grade…”

“You? Pfft, no way. I’d know you if that were the case,” he dismissively rolled his eyes.

Pragmatically, Suguru put forward out of habit, “My name is Suguru Geto.” He extended his small hand expectantly.

“Suguru, huh? My name is Satoru Gojo. You can call me ‘Satoru’,” he offered, eyeing the outstretched hand leerily. “You’re not like other kids, huh?”

With his hand hanging unreceived in the distance between them, Suguru’s patience for the conversation waned sharply. He considered the child’s rudeness and answered curtly, “Gojo-san, I think I need to get back on my way to school.”

“It’s Satoru. Sah-toe-rue. Sheesh. What about your friend?” Satoru inquired, his eyes resting on the pocket Geto’d stowed the very thing he’d attempted to discard moments earlier.

“What friend?” Suguru felt unreasonably grated by the continued conversation. He shoved his hands in his pockets resolutely and turned to leave.

“… I guess it could have been a scary one. I didn’t think about that. Sorry.” Satoru muttered sheepishly.

Suguru whipped his head around to look at Satoru once more, searching for his eyes which were now cast downward. Suddenly, pieces of their conversation snapped into place in his head, even if it didn’t all make sense. Maybe this creepy kid could see things, too. “Gojo-san, do you-?”

“Gojo-sama! GOJO-SAMA!” a shrill, desperate voice cried out from the direction Satoru had initially spawned.

Satoru sighed tiredly. “It uh… it helps to think of them as Digimon. Almost like you’re about to embark on some big adventure, you know? I can hold onto it if you’d like,” Satoru nodded in the direction of Suguru’s pocket.

“Gibberish. He must only speak gibberish…” Suguru determined. Seeing a frantic figure shuffle toward them, he decisively pulled the ball out and held it out for Satoru who eyed him with a puckish smirk before taking it.

Satoru turned the weight over in his hand thoughtfully before tossing the ball into the air, hearing the slap as it reconnected with his skin.

“Gojo-sama, you can’t disappear like that. Do you want your parents to kill me?” a young lady inquired, exasperatedly.

Big blue eyes continued to stare into Suguru’s brown eyes. After a moment, Suguru uncomfortably broke the contact, instead turning his attention to the young adult with a modest bow.

“Relax, Nabiki,” Satoru drawled, his penetrating eyes studying Geto.

“Easy for you to say, Gojo-sama. Can we please get back to the great hall before your tutor notices your tardiness? OH! … You made a friend?” Nabiki peered around Satoru to get a glimpse of Suguru. She pushed her shoulder length black hair behind her ear and answered his bow in kind. “Uncommonly polite for the young master…” she smiled warmly.

“What are they gonna do if we’re late. Besides, I was just seeing Suguru off! You didn’t have to come looking for me, Nabiki,” Satoru rolled his eyes, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Shouldn’t you regard her more politely?” Suguru inquired, appalled by the increasingly bad manners he witnessed.

Nabiki looked visibly taken aback. Not fearful just… shocked. “That’s not necessary, he’s-”

“No, no. Maybe he has a point!” Satoru grinned wickedly and bowed deeply toward Nabiki which sent her eyes wide as she considered whether it best to deepen her bow or turn and run.

Suguru, uncertain of the scene unfolding before him, contemplated how much time he’d lost sucked into the orbit of this demon spawn. With a resigned sigh, he turned on his heels and resumed his march to school, relieved of the monster that had plagued him the last several weeks. There was no longer a reason for calls home or lectures from his teacher if he could avoid being late.

“Oh, uh. See you soon, Bangs!” Satoru called after him, a slight lilt of hope in his voice.

Suguru, peeved by the nickname, raised a hand in a wave so as to not further engage with the rascal.

--

Suguru spent the next few years without incident. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t haunted. Every so often, he’d catch in his periphery something gnarled, something inhuman. They always seemed to be leering, their eyes piercing through anyone else who happened to walk by, trained on him. It always sent a shiver up his spine, recalling the terror of the first one who’d been so bold to have entered his home. But they always seemed to keep a watchful distance and he made sure to avoid indicating he could see them at all. He remembered the shame and frustration he’d brought upon himself and his parents the last time he was plagued with a creature only he could see and it upset something within him, deeply.

With high school entrance exams around the corner, he put the idea of these beasts out of his mind to make room for studying. He was in a bookstore getting extra study materials when he was approached by someone whose face he knew but couldn’t put a name too.

Her long black and indiscriminate features didn’t set her apart from other patrons but her eyes were very clearly trained on him. “Anyone ever tell you; you have some strange bangs?”

Suguru’s normally unflappable expression saw his eyes narrow at the question. His hair was just below his shoulders now and the occasionally shady comment wasn’t uncommon.

“Relax! If anything, I think it makes you look more distinguished.” The young woman laughed. “Certainly makes it easy to pick you out of a crowd.”

Suguru was uncertain how to address the adult whose playful demeanor looked ill-fitting for the black pant suit she donned. Further, he was unused to speaking to adults so casually, especially strangers. Still, something about the exchange gave rise to an unfamiliar annoyance. Rather than engage, he sighed and continued his search for a reference book.

“Uh, wait a minute!” she panicked, popping up on the other side of a shelf of books, her hands offered in placation. “You’re getting ready for high school entrance exams, right!? B-but you already passed one!”

Suguru’s cursory scan went uninterrupted. Finding the book he’d trekked to purchase, he decisively tilted it off the shelf with an index finger, flipping the pages to make sure it had the core material he hoped to brush up on.

“Didn’t you hear me? You don’t need that. I’m a representative of a small religious school in Tokyo and I’ve been looking for you, Suguru Geto.”

Suguru’s ears perked up hearing his name from the stranger’s lips. He turned to face her head on, questioning whether this was how typical scenarios of stranger danger began.

Realizing she had him hooked, ever so tenuously, she leaned in and lowered her voice. “You’ve seen them, right? The curses that no one else can. You’re not the only one. There are more people like you than you think and they train to exorcise curses before they can cause more harm to others. This school can teach you how to do that.”

Suguru squinted, processing the possibility that alternative paths existed. A sunny day from his youth resurfaced from obscurity as he found a name to match the face. “Nabiki-san,” he stated, uncomfortable using the given name of someone he didn’t know so informally.

A smile spread across the woman’s face with his recognition. She slyly grabbed the book Suguru had spent so long in search of and put it back on the shelf haphazardly. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

--

His parents weren’t against a boarding high school though Jujutsu High suspiciously didn’t offer the same pleasantries others did like campus tours, a traditional opening ceremony or even much of a Parent Teacher Association to speak of. Largely without protest, they saw Suguru off as he embarked on his high school career with wishes of success and that he’d call them frequently.

As he took his first steps onto campus, uncertain about what this institution would hold, he was heckled by a somewhat familiar voice.

“If it isn’t Joe Kido. Think fast!”

Suguru turned toward the source of the noise just in time to clumsily catch a dark sphere the size of a tennis ball that was hurling through the air toward him. “All this time, that was a curse too…” Suguru realized as he scowled at the offending student who leisurely walked toward him, unmistakably white hair glistening under the sun. “It’s Suguru Geto, actually,” he corrected tersely. “Of course, that guy would be here…” he rolled his eyes, reconsidering his decision.

“I see you grew out your bangs even longer, Suguru. They suit you.” Satoru grinned, a teasing glint in his eye as he flipped up the other young man’s bangs.

“This… is going to be bothersome...” Suguru gritted, his eyes rolling painfully.

--

Geto could never have forecasted the difference those moments made in the scheme of his existence. How they set him up for one of the most indelible relationships of his life while simultaneously damning him to transgressions that continued to plague him.

Moments of reflection always brought his mind back to Satoru. He wondered if, after everything, he still had a right to call him that. Perhaps “Gojo” was more fitting to cover the expanse of time since they’d last seen each other. But here he was, on the eve of the day he intended to make his first move on Rika, the Queen of Curses. Surely, Satoru would be there. What other memories might the reunion unearth?

He couldn’t bring himself to raise his gaze to the reflection in the mirror. Even sweet memories of their youth were tinged with sins he was powerless to take back.

Would Satoru be able to take a look at him and know his regrets? His guilt? A shuffle in the hall ripped him from his spiral.

“Geto-sama? You’re up late… is everything okay?” Nanako’s voice broke the silence.

Geto made his best attempt at a smile and turned toward his ward to set her at ease. “Of course, Nanako. What keeps you up? Pleasant thoughts of Takeshita street, I hope,” he chuckled.

“No, I-” she searched his face for a moment, trying to pick up a hint at what she’d seen before he noticed her presence, the anguish. “The wind shuddered my window a bit too loudly so I was going to make some warm milk and honey to fall back asleep… Would you like a cup?”

Satisfied at quelling her curiosity, Geto grasped her shoulder reassuringly, grateful she could still be soft, still be kind after everything she’d experienced before he’d taken her and her sister in. At what expense, she could never know. “Please, don’t worry about me. I was just heading back to bed, Nanako.”

She smiled weakly, concern imperceptibly furrowing her brows. She studied the face of her savior, inventorying the fine wrinkles that had developed in the years since she’d known him. Thick ebony hair framed the porcelain pallor of his face. “Maybe tomorrow, you’ll finally let us cut your hair, Geto-sama,” she pressed gently.

Geto hummed amusedly as he turned to finally face his reflection. In it, a duller version of himself seemed to stare back at him, no longer the man of his youth. His hair hung well below his shoulders and his features were sharper now, skin pulled taut over a defined jaw and pronounced cheekbones. “I don’t know, Nanako. Someone once told me… it suited me…” he admitted though his smile didn’t spread to his eyes.

Nanako nodded silently to the same reply she and her sister had always gotten. Knowing it best to leave Geto to his ruminations, she padded down the long dark hallway toward the kitchen.

Geto pushed his left hand through his hair haphazardly, admitting under his breath, “They say hair holds memories, you know…”. For a moment, his right hand stretched toward scissors that had been just within his reach all night. He tilted his head to and fro, feeling his disheveled mop sweep across the nape of his neck, feeling the weight of it wash over his shoulders. He seemed to feel every pair of hands that had ever worked themselves through his hair as the movement prickled his scalp. Even His. “There are just some burdens I don’t deserve to forget… some people I can’t bring myself to…” he murmured, a sigh shuddering through his chest.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 (𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈'𝐌 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆) ❞

❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S A DEPARTMENT HEAD !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part four of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you and suguru enter a new phase in your relationship— long distance. the two of you work hard to keep your relationship alive and well ��� but what happens when distance and work starts to weigh on your time together?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, long distance relationship, phone sex, shower sex, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, yuta appears *gasp*, fanart found on pinterest (if anyone knows the og artist, pls let me know)

✧ wc: 14,288 | part one | part two | part three

“Baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “c’mon, you have to wake up, we can’t be late,” your boyfriend groans, pulling the covers over his head, and you giggle, gently tugging at the comforter held taut over his head.

“No,” he’s murmuring, as you roll your eyes, “a few more minutes,”

“A few minutes for you will turn into a few hours,” you chuckle, as your fingers finally find the inside of the comforter.

And you’re finally able to pull it off, Suguru’s long locks askew as his pretty obsidian eyes flutter half open, and your lips curl.

How did you get so lucky?

Your fingers run over his cheek, before you press a kiss to his forehead, “C’mon Mr. Department Head, you’re going to be late at this rate — you have to get the keys to your new apartment today and you have a meeting with the staff too,”

Suguru groans, his lips in a rare pout — mornings were truly his most vulnerable times, “Does it have to be today?” He draws close to you, burying his face in your neck, and your fingers slowly rake through his locks, gently easing the knots that formed in the night.

“Unfortunately yes,” you murmur, your fingers tucking a few locks behind his ear, “but I’ll be visiting you in two weeks, it will pass by quick,” it did feel like forever — but you knew it wouldn’t be. The summer would end one way or another and now he was leaving for Kyoto — officially three weeks before classes start, “and we’ll be spending the whole week together — we can explore a little more than we got to before,”

“I know,” he still is surely unconvinced, moving back to look up at you with certifiably the cutest purse of his lips, his warm hand finding your cheek, “but then why does every minute without you feel so much longer?”

Your lips find his in a lazy kiss, your hand sliding to the nape of his neck, his soft locks brushing against your knuckles, “But that will make the minutes we do spend together that much more special, right?”

He hums, pressing his forehead against yours, “how are you so positive about this?” And you sigh, your nose bumping against his, as you press a chaste kiss to his lips again.

“Because it’s the only way I can not completely break down,” you sigh, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you back into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, heart thudding nearly right under your ear, “what time do you have to leave?”

He glances at his phone, “not for another two hours,” and you curl up, fingers sliding against his smooth skin.

“Then a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt,” you murmur.

And you’d take any minute that you could get with him, especially now.

~~~

“Do you have everything?” Suguru never knew quite how much you could fuss over him, until the last few days. You seemed to obsess over every detail — his credentials, his electronics, his clothes — it’s as if you wanted everything squared away — and you simply couldn’t focus on anything else.

Because, you probably didn’t want to.

“I do, I have everything — I have things I didn’t need that you put in the car,” you pout as he chuckles, and he can’t help but lean in and kiss the pout from your lips, “I’ll be okay, I’ll call you as soon as I get there,” he murmurs, “can you pack yourself up and get in the car? Then I’ll really have everything I need,”

You blink rapidly, as if to ward off tears, as you can’t quite meet his gaze, “I wish I could,” you murmur, as your arms wrap around him, and his do the same, pulling you into a tight hug, “how am I going to survive the next two weeks without you?”

“It’s just two weeks right? Like you said it will pass by quick—“

You shake your head, “I just said that to make you feel better,” you look up at him, glassy eyed, “I changed my mind, stay here,” you whine, and he laughs, running his fingers through your hair.

“Think it’s a little late for that sweetheart,” he sighs, his fingers sliding under your chin, “after all, you packed up the rest of my things into my car, so unless I’m living out of it—“

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, as you rub your eyes, and he pulls your hands away gently, kissing your tears away, “I’ll miss you so much,”

“Not as much as me,” and you lean up to kiss him, a sweet kiss that only leaves him aching for more. Why was it the more he had of you — the more he always needed? He knew these first two weeks would be the hardest, but honestly, he’s not sure if it would ever get easier.

Because he needs you. Always.

“Ah wait,” you smile, reaching into your pocket, “you forgot one thing—” and you pull out a key, and he tilts his head, “it’s a key to my place,”

And he blinks, “You don’t—”

“I want to,” you kiss him again, even softer somehow, “please take it,” so he does, as you place the piece of metal into his palm, “plus, it’s practical, if I’m not around, you can let yourself in,”

“Make myself comfortable?” his lips quirk.

“Very comfortable,” you press your forehead to his again, “Go,” you murmur, you pull away reluctantly, his body already mourning the loss of your touch, your fingers still intertwined, “otherwise, I’ll just block your car with my body to get you to stay,”

He rolls his eyes, smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, “I’d like to see that,” he presses his forehead to yours, “promise you’ll stop me from ever accepting a job that makes me be away from you for any amount of time again?”

“Now that’s a promise I’ll keep,” you squeeze his fingers one last time, “I think it’s what’s owed to us isn’t it?”

He knows he would never be able to repay what he owes you for everything you’ve done for him — how happy you’ve made him—

“It is,” he smiles, one last kiss to your lips, as he slips into the driver’s seat before he can change his mind.

—But he would try.

~~~

When you go back to your apartment — it feels far too empty. Even though Suguru didn’t live with you — it felt as if he had made a place for himself here, and he had, but he had left it. For now, you remind yourself. His place would be here for him, when he came back.

But it turned out two weeks was a lot of time to kill when you still hadn’t started classes — your days filled with nothing but time for you to spend. None of your friends from class had made it back yet either — so you were stuck trying to find things to do. Suguru was busier than expected — dragged to meeting after meeting and showed off more than a show dog to the department’s professors, alumni, and donors. Suguru often fell asleep on the phone with you, his soft snores filling your ears, as you fell asleep along with him.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if all semester would be like this — especially once his classes started. You understood — you did — this is what you signed up for and it was far from Suguru’s fault. But you couldn’t help but miss him. And that wasn’t surprising — but what was surprising was how much you missed him.

Your bed was bought for one, but now it felt empty with only you occupying it — a cold barren front without your usual refuge in his arms. And the days weren’t bad — you found things to keep you busy — but the evenings and weekends that you usually had spent with Suguru dragged like a child dragged their feet at the grocery store — reluctantly and without patience.

So maybe you needed to do the same that you’d do for a restless child — a distraction.

“Do you know of any organizations I could join?” You had asked Suguru on one of your video call dinner dates — and he hummed thoughtfully as he picked up soba noodles between his chopsticks, “I just feel like I need something to fill my time,”

“The semester hasn’t even started and you’re already thinking about other things to do?” He raises an eyebrow, and you suppress a giggle at the sight of a bit of the soup that remained on the side of his chin. The very same you wished that you could thumb away for him, “my favorite student is as ambitious as always,”

“Your girlfriend is even more so,” you roll your eyes, as you gesture to your own face to signal, and he wipes his, “c’mon, I know my favorite professor must have something to recommend. I know how he looooves to give me suggestions,”

And he snorts, setting his chopsticks down on his bowl as he finishes his meal, “Then I suggest you think about joining the student government — they have a specific section for graduate students and professors, it would be a good opportunity for you to branch out, and put the philosophy department’s brightest on the map,”

Your lips curl at the compliment, “you think I’m the brightest?”

“I was talking about myself,” and you roll your eyes, as he smirks at you, as he picks up his phone and his dishes to clean up, “I think it would be perfect. Why don’t you speak to Yaga about it? He was trying to goad me into recommending some students,”

“So this really is self-serving, huh?” the water of the sink runs in the background, as you do the same, placing your dishes in the sink — tomorrow’s problem — as you washed your hands, “what would I even know about student government anyway?”

“Philosophy has a lot to do with governance, you know that — Cicero, Plato, Aquinas, Machiavelli—“

“Saving the most benevolent philosopher for last,” and you can hear him chuckle, as the water squeaks shut, and he picks up his phone, a smile playing on his lips, “do you think I could help?”

“I think you can do anything, sweetheart, except get a 100% in my class,” and you gape at him, as he laughs, and your heart aches for that sound, more than you thought was possible, “you should do it, what’s stopping you?”

And you bite your lip — yes, you wanted to be busier, but you didn’t want to be too busy for this. To spend time with Suguru — no matter how little it was. But you knew it would be good for you — for both of you. The last thing you wanted was to be needy — even if this week was proving that you were needier than you thought you were.

“Nothing I guess,” you sigh, as you make your way to your bedroom, “I’ll email Professor Yaga in the morning,”

“Good,” Suguru is sat on his bed as well now, his phone propped up, “and your boyfriend has another suggestion,” and you raise an eyebrow, “I suggest my favorite student brings my favorite t-shirt with them when they come to visit me,”

You gasp in mock shock, “You gave this shirt to me,”

“No, I asked you where it was and you said you packed it already, but I see you pilfered it away when I wasn’t looking,” he tilts his head, “now take it off,”

“Professor, that’s not a proper way for a department head to speak to a student,” you still let the shirt ride up as you lean back against your pillows, “have you not gotten your ethics training yet about appropriate behavior?”

“That’s interesting, you didn’t seem to mind last night when you asked me to send you a very improper picture of my lower half fresh out of the shower,” and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips, but your expression grows more serious.

“So it’s all about quid pro quo, Professor?” you sigh exaggeratedly, before pulling the shirt off, “I’ll take it off, but how about if you let me keep it, I’ll give you something else?”

God, you know that look in his eye, and you just wished he could do what he wanted — his fingers would find your waist and your back, pulling you quick and eager into his lap — his hard-on pressing through the thin material of his sweatpants he wore around the apartment.

“And what would that be?” And the shirt finally up and over, a soft gasp leaving his lips at the sight of your bare body, only your shorts left on. You smile.

“Me, of course,” and he’s adjusting his phone, face up, a small groan leaving his lips, “sir?”

“Is that all you’re offering, sweetheart?” and you hear the slight shuffle of fabric, “because that shirt is quite special to me,”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugs at your lips as you see him come back into focus with his phone in hand, his eyes drifting from your eyes to your chest and back, “Is it?”

“If you remove your clothes, I’ll forgive this small transgression,” and his other hand is out of sight, no doubt stroking himself, though you were no better, fingers toying with your cunt through your drenched panties.

“I think that price might be too high, Professor— you might have to give me something in return,” you smile, toying with the elastic of your shorts, and he bites his lip, gaze heavy even through the screen of your phone.

“And what do you want, princess?”

“I thought it was obvious,” as you slip off your shorts, propping up your phone on the pillow designated usually for him, nothing else underneath, “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he’s hissing, as you can hear the distinct sound of the squelch of his hand running up and down his cock, “sweetheart, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

And your fingers are teasing your wet folds, imagining it was his own, his thick fingers sinking into one by one, he’d fill you so much better than you do — “show me, Suguru,” He does, flipping the camera to show his erection — flushed red and pretty — beads of pre-cum dripping from the tip, “all this just for me?” And your fingers push past your entrance, a gasp leaving your lips, “my fingers aren’t enough for me, Sugu—“

“show me now, let me tell you how to fuck yourself,” and you’re nodding, hand shaking as you flip the camera around to show your fingers notched inside, gleaming with your pre, dripping down your knuckles, “move,” and you do, slowly at first, and his hand moves too, starting to fuck his fist, “faster, curl your fingers just like I would,” and you do, a whine leaving your lips, “good girl,” he grunts.

The sounds of both of your pants and moans fill your ears, your eyes fluttering open to watch him touch himself, “Tease the tip for me, baby,” you murmur, fucking yourself deeper, when you see him thumb his slit, “wish I could taste you, suck you off, until you’re cumming down my—“

“Princess—“ you know he’s close by the way his dick twitches in his fingers and the way his lips moan your name, “add another finger,” and you do — fuck, the stretch is nothing like his cock, but you can almost imagine it is, “I’m sure you’ve gotten tight without me to fuck you — have you been touching yourself when I’m not around?” You bite your lip, your hesitation was all the answer he needed, “what do you think about?”

“Think about you,” you’re fucking close too, your fingers drenched in your own precum, “think about you coming back, about you kissing me at the door before pinning me against it,” And he’s groaning, the sounds of his hand pumping his cock ringing in your ears, you can’t hang on— “Suguru—please—“

“Be a good girl, and cum for me, sweetheart,” and you do, your toes curling and eyes squeezing shut as you do, phone slipping from your fingers, as you hear him groan too, the distinct sound of his cum splattering against his sheets.

You both come down from your highs, pulling your fingers from your cunt, grabbing tissues from your bedside table to wipe off your hands.

“Sugu?” You pick up your phone, and your boyfriend does the same, his cheeks flushed a gorgeous red, slightly more rumpled than before. And you can’t help but wish you could lean over and kiss him as you would, running your fingers through his hair, “I miss you,”

He sighs, gaze filled with affection and longing, “I miss you too, so much — you have no idea, princess,” as you tug his shirt back on, and you lie back, turning on your side, “just one more week,”

“I’m counting the days,” you murmur

“I’m counting the seconds,” and you snort, his lips curled in the damned smile that dragged you into his mess.

“Always have to one up me don’t you?” you bury your nose in the fabric of the shirt, the scent still very distinctly him.

“It is my job after all,” and you smile, “I love you,”

“I love you too,” but you know where this is going — as it always did almost every weekday night.

“I should hang up — I have to clean up and—“

“Review for meetings before bed, I know,” you finish and he raises an eyebrow, “very predictable, Professor Geto,”

“I’ll work on that — watch, I’ll surprise you,” and you chuckle, but you can’t help but frown, “what is it?” and you shake your head, “sweetheart,” and you know he won’t let it go.

“Just call me after you’re done, before bed, okay?” you sit up, glancing at your shorts on the floor, shifting uncomfortably with the wetness between your thighs, “I have to change my shorts and my sheets,”

“You’re welcome,” and you roll your eyes, his lips curled in a small smile reserved just for you, “love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” the call ends, and you’re left looking at your lock screen, a sigh caught in your throat.

Just one more week.

~~~

You stood before the door of one of the university's conference rooms — on one of the floors you did not tend to frequent. You spent most of your time in the classrooms if not the library — but you had attended a few meetings up here for one reason or another. But this was the first time you were walking into a room in quite a long time that you didn’t know anyone.

The student government met once before the semester started — a getting to know you forum for new members, such as yourself. There was no real formal election process for your position as senator — as long as other students were not vying for the position. And luckily for you, no other philosophy graduate student had chosen to volunteer for this entirely optional and unpaid position — a mystery really.

But the nerves still remained — though there was nothing more to do than enter. So you did — opening the door and finding the room filled with quite a few faces, but none of them familiar. You took a seat in a relatively empty section, but adjacent to enough faces, an empty seat on either side of you. The people around you chatted, while you pulled a notebook and pen out — your phone face down on the table, before you grab it and shoot Suguru a quick text.

You: in my first student government meeting! wish me luck!!

The meeting started without much formalities — a simple round table introduction that had you close to going last, but you had a chance to learn more about the other graduate students — most of them were students representing different departments, as you were, while there was also the traditional roles of president, vice president, secretary, and treasurer.

Eyes slid to you now, the president gesturing to you, her name escaping you, “And our newest member,”

They finally turned to you as you waved to the group, introducing yourself by name, “I’m a graduate student in the philosophy department, I’m a third year in the program, and I heard about the group from my department head—”

“Professor Geto?” one of the girls piped up, a literature graduate student who you didn’t recognize, but you were sure had taken Suguru’s class or at least had heard about him.

You shook your head, forcing a polite smile on your lips, “Professor Yaga actually told me about it,” she nods, and the president claps her hands together.

“Alright, this meeting is just to mingle and get to know each other, so please enjoy the refreshments and food provided,” and her eyes flicker down, “I think we’re only missing one person from the group—”

And the door bursts open, “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to run late—” a student with dark black hair that rested past his chin, bangs that framed his face on either side, and a small smile on his lips.

“Students keep you again, Yuta?” the president asks, and the dark haired boy known as Yuta slipped into the room, and took a seat beside you, sighing with a nod, as he set down his things, “good timing, you can help our newest member get acclimated,”

His eyes flicker to you, a smile pulling at his lips, “I’d be happy to,” and the group begins to get up to grab food and refreshments, as Yuta offers you his hand, “I’m Yuta Okkotsu, it’s nice to meet you.”

~~~~

“I hope you stay a part of the organization,” your eyes snap up at Yuta’s words — a curious look on his face, “you just seemed a little overwhelmed in there,” he tilts his head, as the two of you walk towards the metro station, “I may be wrong, but—”

“No I was,” for someone who looked so…innocent, he was really observant — his dark eyes felt like they could pierce right through you — even if he wouldn’t let them do so, “it was a lot — I’ve never been a part of a formal structure like this so it was just a lot—”

“It’s not as formal as you think — the proceedings do drag on but Maki, the president, tends to skip the formalities for the most part — she’s as bored of them as you are,” he chuckles, his fingers adjusting the strap of his backpack slung loosely over one shoulder, “usually the meetings don’t take very long — the events mostly take up our time when it comes to planning and organizing, but we hold a couple in conjunction with other organizations so that helps take the load off,” he explains, “we also organize issues important to the students to present to the president of the university quarterly, so we tend to have more meetings around that time, but we schedule the meetings after midterms, and after finals, so it doesn’t interfere with studying,” and then he catches himself, rubbing the back of his neck, “sorry, I’m going on and on, I should have just asked you if you had questions instead,”

“No, it was really helpful, Yuta,” you smile, “you’re very thorough,” and you don’t notice how a faint flush appears across his cheeks.

“I was new last year to the organization, and I remember being really overwhelmed — the professor I usually T.A. for roped me into it, he’s been away on research for the last year or so, but I stayed apart of it, because,” he shrugged, a smile on his lips, “I made some really good friends, and I hope you do too,”

You pull out your phone, no reply from Suguru, a small sigh on your lips — it’s fine, he’s busy, “Good friends are exactly what I need right now I think,” you check the time — Suguru wouldn’t be out of meetings for dinner at this rate, “do you want to grab dinner? I know a good ramen spot not far from here,”

“Sounds great,” and you led the way, not noticing the way Yuta’s eyes lingered on you a second too long, before he started to follow you, keeping pace beside you.

A week would pass by quick.

~~~

“What time will you be here?” Suguru asked, as you had him on your laptop this time on video call to watch you pack for the couple days you were spending with him before the semester started.

“I’m taking the 8:00 AM train, so I’ll get there probably by 10:15, so like two hours,” you weren’t sure how much to pack — you didn’t want to do a ton of laundry right before classes started, but you weren’t sure what you wanted to wear, “can you come here pack for me and go back?”

He snorts, “I’ll be right over, but at that point, wouldn’t it be more conducive for me to just stay with you?”

“But I want to come see you,” you pout, and he shrugs, as his eyes flicker up from his work.

“Then you’re going have to pack,” and you give a heavy sigh, continuing to choose what clothes to take. Your phone goes off and it’s a text from Yuta;

Yuta: hey! are you free next week to get dinner after the meeting? But this time I’m choosing the restaurant :)

You pick up your phone and text back: if it’s that chapati place you mentioned, I’m down — otherwise, you’ll have to deal with my severe disappointment

Yuta: I’ll have to leave you in suspense then

You snort, tossing your phone down, as your eyes go back to the screen to find Suguru smiling at you, “What?”

“Just enjoying the view,” and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes.

“Shut up,” you mumble, rolling up a shirt in a hurry in a manner that definitely doesn’t qualify as folding, “what view? Me in an oversized t-shirt and shorts?”

“Exactly, with that pretty smile on your lips? Best thing on anytime,” he replies, and you bite back that same smile he complimented — but it’s the one reserved for him.

“You dork,” you mutter, “don’t say cute things or I’ll take the last train tonight to see you sooner,”

“I’d never make you do that so I’ll stop, for now,” he sighs, resting his cheek on his palm, his gaze growing a little more heady, “but tomorrow? I’ll be sure to tell you every single thing I love about you,”

And your lips curl, as you sigh, “I love you, but you should get some rest and I should finish packing and do the same,”

He gives a small smile, “Yes, ma’am, I’ll see you tomorrow, pretty girl,”

“I’ll be the one running into your arms,”

“Undoubtedly very late,”

“What was that? The sound of me missing my train tomorrow?” And he laughs, as you cross your arms, head held far too high, “that’s right. I’m holding myself hostage,”

“Well if you’re both hostage and hostage negotiator, tell both of you that I’ll bring you your favorite drink and buy you the breakfast of your choice,” and you peek at him, “coming around?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, you better have the ransom ready,” you let a smile escape your lips, “I love you,”

“I love you too, I’ll see you tomorrow,” and he hangs up after, and you sigh — tomorrow, finally.

You’ll see him again — you just hoped these few days didn’t pass by quickly.

~~~

Suguru waited at the station for you, your preferred hot beverage in hand, along with your requested pastry, both in hand as he waited. He opted to have his hair up in a bun due to the weather, a slight wind that carried the warning of fall in the crisp air that morning. But not whenever a snowstorm could have kept him from you that morning — it had been far too many days and nights spent without you by his side while spending them instead in stuffy rooms filled with colleagues and donors.

But now — and he sees people pour from the platform, a throng of harried travelers looking to get to their next destination, and among them all, he spots you — with the red suitcase you insisted made it easier to find amongst the others (it didn’t).

And he’s approaching you, slipping past others, and your eyes find his, your lips in a grin at the sight of him, as you find your way into his arms in a moment — suitcase clattering to the floor probably to the other travelers’ dismay. But he grabbed the handle and turned it upright in a moment, before his arm curled back around you.

“Hi,” you whisper, and he could have stood there forever — it had felt like forever since he had held you. His palm cupped your cheek, a thumb brushing back and forth against the length of it.

“You always know how to make an entrance sweetheart,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours, as your fingers intertwine slowly but surely — as if they hadn’t parted, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way,”

“Uh-huh, don’t act like I forgot about the ransom I’m owed,” and he’s rolling his eyes, as he takes your luggage, wrapping an arm around you, “where is it?”

“In the car, how about we stop by my apartment, drop off your things, rest for a bit and then we can grab breakfast, as promised?” You smile, leaning into his side, wrapping your arms around his middle. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“As long as it’s with you.”

~~~

“You made breakfast for me?” you gasp, as he had set the table with all the breakfast staples — “i thought we were going to ‘grab breakfast?’”

Suguru wipes his hands, as he brings over two pairs of clean chopsticks and sits beside you, “Well I thought you might be tired from the train ride so I thought we could have breakfast in and relax before going out before lunch,”

You take the chopsticks from him, fingers brushing as you do, leaning into his side, “It’s not fair being this perfect,” you murmur, your head against his shoulder, nose brushing against the soft fabric of his t-shirt and his skin, “when are you going to show me your flaws?”

“I think I’ve shown plenty of those the last few months with how things have went before we even began dating,” his lips brush against your forehead, “now I just want to treasure you — as much as I can,”

“Me too,” you lean up and meet his lips in a soft kiss that steals the logic from your head and the air from your lungs — and only leaves his touch behind, “Suguru…” and you want to admit to him how hard it’s been without him, how much harder it's been than what you expected — and how you worried about how hard would it get during the semester, when you both were busy? “I really missed you,” you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and you speak before he can get even a syllable out, “but I’m so glad we’re together now,”

He didn’t need to know — he would only feel bad. You could handle it—

“Me too,” his gaze is soft, as he pulls back to find your lips in another achingly gentle kiss.

For him.

~~~~

“This weekend is supposed to be for you, why are you shopping for me?” Suguru says yet again as you peruse another homegoods store, looking for something to decorate what you claimed were the “barren landscape” of his apartment, “we should do something you want to,”

“This is something I want to do,” as you inspect a globe with the same scrutiny you’d apply to a Aristotelian text — brow furrowed in thought as if this knick knack would give you some unintelligible insight on metaphysics (it did not), “you’re going to be living there for a while, I want you to have an apartment that doesn’t look like a serial killer resides there,”

“Why does it look like that?”

“Because it doesn’t look lived in,” you pick up a set of matching bookends, “these things make your house look lived in and feel welcoming,” and then you put the bookends down thoughtfully, “although we should start with more basic things, like frames and a full length mirror,”

“Well if I look like a serial killer, you don’t have to worry about anyone who comes over, because they will think I’m a murderer and feel very unwelcome,” and you laugh, intertwining your fingers with him, “I don’t care about other people — I care about you, so will this make you happy?”

You nod, “Because I want you to feel happy here, and that will make me happy,”

And he wants to say the only thing that would make him really happy would be if you lived here with him — to wake up beside you each morning, to come home to you each evening, and fall asleep beside you — but he couldn’t say that. It would almost be cruel to say something that wasn’t possible right now. But it would be — it would be possible.

“Okay, let’s find some things,” his arm curls around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “but remember, you do love this serial killer,”

“That’s only because I’m far too wonderful to murder,” and he rolls his eyes, as the two of you continue to shop, and he watches you continue to pick up and examine things — and he can’t help but wonder if this is what it would be like when you both shop for your place together. And he bites back a smile.

Only a few more months — and you could be together. It wasn’t forever.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

~~~~

“You said no work while I was here,” you were doing your best pout if only to change his mind, but he was unrelenting, his shoulders slumped in resignation, and his lips in a purse at his desk in his bedroom, “Suguruuuuu,” you’re officially whining, and you know it’s not his fault, but you have such little time with him, you don’t want a minute to be wasted.

“I know, sweetheart, but Yaga wants to speak about the semester starting, and I didn’t have much of a choice—” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck, lips pressing kisses to the hollow of his throat, “princess—” he groans.

“I want to get in my cuddles before,” and your teeth graze the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he sucks in air between his teeth, “how long is your meeting?”

“About half an hour,” and you hum, kissing his lips, languid and slow, your fingers threading his lengthy tresses, “it’s about to start—” and you’re kneeling down in front of his chair, as the video call starts to go off, as you look up at him between his knees, “sweetheart—” he’s hissing, wide eyes, as you undo his belt and the zipper of his pants.

“Then let’s not waste any time,” you grin, toying with the waistband of his boxers, “pick up the call.”

And you thought he would kick you out from underneath, nudging you away, and you would relent if he really didn’t want this — but he doesn’t. He swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing as he picks up the call, placing his earbuds in his ear.

“Hi Professor Yaga,” Suguru says, and you’re almost surprised how normal he sounds with you between his legs, but Yaga can’t see the way his muscles tense when your fingers spring his already half hard cock free, “Yes, we do have a couple things to cover. No, I don’t mind starting,”

Well if he insists, you’d start too.

Your fingers slowly stroke him to fully erect, pre-cum dripping over your fingers as you do, your eyes flickering up to see his expression still perfectly normally, the only telltale sign being the way his fingers white knuckled the armrest just out of sight. His cock was so unfairly pretty — a deep red at the tip with a slight curve that had your thighs pressing together at the thought of it sinking into you. Your lips press a kiss to the tip and he wavers mid sentence, as you smirk against his cock, as your mouth parts to suck him off.

And it seems like Yaga is the one speaking now, as he seemingly mutes himself, resting his chin against his hand, covering his mouth with his fingers, “Fuck, sweetheart,” he swears under his breath, as your tongue traces along one of his veins, sucking at the tip, as your fingers drift to toy with his balls.

The tip of your tongue flicks against his weeping slit, bobbing your head along the length, as a hand of his drifts down to thread in your locks, nails digging into your scalp.

“S-sorry, what was that?” he seemingly unmuted himself at a question, and you’re sucking even harder, nose brushing against his pubes as his tip brushes against your throat, “N-no, I’m fine, sorry, I’m not feeling well,”

You suck one more time, and he’s gone, as he barely can mutes himself and turns off his camera, groaning, as he spills down your throat, as you swallow it, his head thrown back against the headrest of his chair. And he’s panting, as he looks down at you, half lidded and lost in pleasure, gaze darkening as he watches you pull away, a string of spit and cum connecting you to his softening cock, as you adjust his boxers and clothes.

“What happened to Yaga?” and his glance tells you he certainly does not care — chest heaving, as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Disconnected after I went silent — I’ll tell him my internet went out,” and you’re slowly rising out from between his legs, and his fingers find your waist, tugging you close, “you really are a bad influence,” and his lips find yours, your fingers cupping his cheek.

“I told you I didn’t want to waste time,” you grin, and in one smooth motion, he’s dragging you into his bed, giggling leaving your lips as he showers you with kisses, “Suguru!” you yelp as you fall backwards into his plush bed, and he’s tugging off your shorts and panties with ease, folding your legs up, one of them brushing against his shoulder, as he kisses your inner thigh, a smile against your heated skin.

“My turn.”

~~~~

“How did this week go so quickly?” you sigh, burying your face in his chest on Friday night, knowing you have to get on a train tomorrow morning, “it’s not fair, it’s not enough time,” you murmur, tracing circles on his skin, “and now I don’t get to see you for a month,”

“I know, I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “but it will pass by quick — you’ll be busy with classes and I’ll be busy with work — it won’t be as bad as we think,” And you don’t want to admit your fears to him — it would make it all too real, as if they would emerge from the syllables your lips spoke into a new reality before you — and you couldn’t take that risk, no matter how illogical it was.

“I know, I just can’t imagine spending this much time apart,” you glance at him, “don’t know what I did without you before, I don’t even remember what I spent my time doing,”

“Revising the essays I made you write?” and you pinch his cheek, and he’s laughing, “sorry, couldn’t resist making that joke,”

“Yeah, I recall you couldn’t resist me either,” and his fingers drag lazily over your cheek, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear.

“Well, who really could resist you?” he sighs, content seemingly in just the act of touching you, “I tried and failed — and I am a master at resisting temptation,”

“A paragon of morality truly,” and he snorts, as you kiss his neck sweetly, ghosting over the places you had left marks, “though there was definitely nothing moral about what we just did,”

Your lips find his again, a lazy kiss that grows slowly with more heat the more your lips meet again and again and again — until he’s parting, “It’s just a month,” he says as if he can sense your anxiety, “I’ll come see you, I promise,”

“So if you don’t come, I can summon Immanuel Kant to scold you for not fulfilling your promise?” and he laughs.

“A scolding from you would be far more effective, but Kant is able to come if he can make it — death’s a worse commute than to Tokyo,”

“Who says?” you mumble, pressing your forehead to his, “you’ll take me to the station?”

“Of course,” and you have only one request.

“Don’t come inside ok?” his brow furrows, but you softly smooth it with the back of your knuckles, “Otherwise, I’ll end up crying — and I rather not subject you or the passengers near me to that,” and he chuckles, a frown still on his lips.

“Are you sure?”

It wasn’t just the crying — you knew if he walked you to your train, you’d want to make him come with you or let yourself stay — and you couldn’t do that, not to either of you. This was temporary — it wouldn’t be forever—

“I’m sure.” you kiss his lips again, rolling over so you were on top, your bodies brushing against each other with the familiar heat you’d miss when you were back home again.

—so why did it feel like forever?

~~~

“You promised me a better meal and this place nearly burned my taste buds off,” you grumble, as the two of you stand outside the restaurant, rain pounding against the awning as it starts to come down, the spicy food from the chapati place doing little to keep you warm now against the frigid wind of the autumn carrying the promise of being drenched with it.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Yuta chuckles, holding a hand out for the rain, “now at least the spice will help on the way home,”

“The only good thing about this place is that it's close to my apartment. I have a ton of work to do already — and it’s only the first week of classes,” you sigh, pulling out your umbrella, and glancing at him, hands still empty and unmoving. You hold up your umbrella, waving it, “Did you not bring one?” as you pull out your phone to check the weather reports.

“I didn’t know there was rain in the report for today,” he sighs, waving you off, “go ahead, I’ll wait for it to let up or find a convenience store nearby— I just need to make it back to the station—”

“Trains are down because of the storm,” you raise an eyebrow, as you glance at him, “come on, you can stay at my place,”

He’s shaking his head, holding his hands up, “No, I don’t want to—”

You tilt your head, glancing around at the clearing street and the distant rumble of thunder, “So are you going to camp out here outside this restaurant for the night or?” and he’s chewing his lip, as you chuckle, “it’s not far, we can share the umbrella, and hopefully we won’t get completely soaked,”

“Well, we’re not completely soaked,” you close the door behind you both, dripping water onto your floor, as you sigh, “hold on I’ll grab towels,” and you do, coming back quickly so you both can dry off.

And you notice the damage done to his clothes are far worse than yours, completely soaked through, the towel doing little to help aside from stopping the water from forming a larger puddle near your entryway.

“You held the umbrella mostly to my side, didn’t you?” And he pauses, his hesitation the answer you needed, as you sigh — “you’re more of a martyr than you need to be,”

“Well, I want to help my friends,” he gives a small smile.

“Even at the detriment of yourself?” And he shrugs.

“I can handle it,” and you shake your head, as you head to your closet pull out a fresh towel and clothes — but not your own.

“Go change,” and he glances at the clothes, hesitates, but takes them, as he frowns, “it’s fine, Yuta, go shower and change,” you show him where the bathroom is, and how to turn on the water.

You head to your bedroom to change and dry off, grabbing a fresh t-shirt and shorts — chewing on your lips — you had to give Yuta some of Suguru’s clothes you had stolen — your clothes wouldn’t exactly fit him properly. But you pouted, now you couldn’t sleep in Suguru’s shirt tonight, and you sighed, it was just as well — you had to wash the shirt so now it didn’t smell like him now.

You come out into the living room, hopping onto your couch and flipping on the TV, looking for something to watch. And then you hear the bathroom door, glancing behind you, “Done?”

“Yeah, thank you again for this,” he shifts in place, steam escaping from the bathroom behind him, his bangs still a little damp and cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink along his cheekbones, “what are you doing?”

“Just looking for something to watch,” and he comes over, sitting on the other side of the couch, “do you have any preference?”

He shakes his head, “No, not really,” and you choose a random movie to put on, a cheesy rom-com that had just come out on a streaming service, “is that what you like to watch?”

You shrug, running your fingers through your hair, “I like watching bad movies — it’s something I do usually while I do my work — the genius is, I don’t have to pay attention to follow the storyline,” and your eyes still on the TV, you don’t notice how his eyes linger on your face, a smile pulling on his lips, “now look at this, it’s the classic ‘guy likes girl, but girl is too dense to notice,” you shake your head, “does that even happen in real life?”

And Yuta parts his lips to reply when your phone rings, and you grab your phone — a video call — Suguru’s name flashing on your screen, and you can’t bite back the smile on your lips, “Hold on, I have to take this — just make yourself comfortable, I’ll be in the bedroom,”

You head into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you, as you pick up the call, “Hey stranger,” you smile as his face comes into view, glasses perched on his nose, as he grins back at you, “I miss you,”

“I miss you too,” he rests his face against his hand, “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk much — there have been a lot of issues popping up because its the first week — a lot of department requests from professors and students alike,”

“Mr. Bigshot Department Head has forgotten about his girlfriend, huh?” you mock pout, and he shakes his head, a longing gaze that makes your breath stutter in your chest.

“I could never forget you — how can I when all I dream about is you?” and you bite your lip, cheeks burning, “did I make you smile?”

“Shut up,” and he laughs, and then you hear a noise from the living room, a clatter that catches your attention.

“What was that?”

You wave him off, “It was just my friend, he’s staying over because of the rain — he’s in the living room,”

And he pauses for a moment, expression unreadable, “Which friend?”

“His name is Yuta — I met him during my first student government meeting — he’s kind of showing me the ropes,” and he nods, his silence palpable, gaze downwards and then it dawns on you, “Are you jealous?”

And his eyes flicker up, “Sweetheart—”

“Oh my god you are, that’s so cute,” you smile, as you delight in the slight dusting of pink that settles over his cheeks — he’s far too pretty for his own good, and your voice softens, “you have nothing to worry about, Suguru — I love you, no one else can even compete,”

He sighs, and you wish you could kiss him, “I know, I know — I’m just,” his brow furrows, his lips stuck in a frown, “I just miss you,”

“Then come over,” you tease, and he gives a small smile.

“You have company,” he reminds you, and you sigh, glancing at the door, “you should go back,”

“I’ll work on inventing an instant teleportation device,” a forced laugh leaves his lips, “Suguru, are you sure—”

He shakes his head, “I’m fine, really, just call me before bed if you have time okay?”

“Yeah of course, I love you,” a genuine smile gracing his lips.

“I love you too,” and you hang up, heading back out to find Yuta watching TV, “sorry about that,”

“It’s fine, is everything okay?” he glances at you, tilting his head, “nothing wrong?”

You shake your head, sitting down beside him, grabbing a cushion to place in your arms, “It was just my boyfriend — he usually calls me around this time,”

Yuta gives a slight nod, “Oh, is he away this weekend?”

“No, we’re long distance — he lives in Kyoto,” you explain, sighing, leaning back on the couch, “that’s why I took the call, otherwise, I would have called whoever back,”

“You don’t have to do that — you should be allowed to do whatever you need to. It’s your home,” and you smile, shaking your head before you toss the pillow at him, “w-what?”

“You’re important too, Yuta — you’re my friend and a guest — I’m not going to just leave you out here by yourself without saying anything,” you hold your hand out, “can I have the remote?” And he passes it to you, fingers brushing, as you flip through more movies and TV, “are you tired at all?”

His gaze stays straight ahead, as he shakes his head, “No, not yet,” and you’re choosing a movie to watch, his fingers clasped over each other — the warmth of your touch still lingering.

And you had no idea that his heart was aching at the thought of you being taken — much like the very someone who had taken you.

~~~

“I understand, Suguru, really I do,” and you did — you always did — but this time, it was a little hard to swallow.

It had been weeks since the two of you had seen each other, not over a screen. It was already a month and half into the new semester — and each time he was supposed to visit you, something or another came up — a faculty event, a staff meeting, grading to do, and god knows what else.

And you could bear it the other times — it wasn’t his fault. He had work to do. He had things he had to take care of with little choice in the matter. And you couldn’t always come to Kyoto either — not with your program in full gear and events for the student government around the corner.

No it wasn’t his fault — but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt — especially with what he was missing.

“I really tried to get time off — and I probably still can make it, but I might run late—“ Suguru’s sighing on the phone, and you know his brow is knit together — mind desperately trying to grasp at a solution, as if he thought hard enough one would emerge that he hadn’t considered.

Your footsteps pause, as you bite back your own sigh, trying to keep your tone light. “It’s okay, really — we can celebrate my birthday the next time—“

“It’s not okay, sweetheart,” he cuts you off, “I’m really going to try to make it. I’ll get my work done, or put it off—“

“I don’t want you jeopardizing work—“

“I’ll be fine, Princess — I want to be with you,” he says so softly that your refusals all but melt, “really, I do,”

You bite your lip, as you continue to make your way, weaving between the students herding towards their next classes, “Okay I just don’t want you stressing out or worrying—“

“I’ll be fine, just, make any plans you want to, okay? I don’t know what time I’ll get there on Saturday, but I’ll be there, okay?”

“You really don’t—“ you’re outside the room for your meeting, leaning against the wall.

“Sweetheart,” he warns, and your lips curl, fully submitting to his whims.

“You really don’t — know what time you’re getting here?” You nailed that — apparently not by his chuckle over the line, as you hear the tapping of his laptop as he checks train times.

He pauses, a rustling of papers, and a sigh, “I’m not sure, but once I’m on my way, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Okay, that’s fine,” you give a half hearted smile despite the fact no one would see it, “I’m outside my student government meeting, but I’ll talk to you tonight?”

“Of course, good luck with your meeting, and I’ll call you around 8:00 PM?” And the two of you hang up and you’re left with disappointment hanging mid air — like a mystery waiting to be solved, wondering if you’ll be satisfied or saddened.

“What’s wrong?” your gaze snaps up to find Yuta, who offers a small smile, “are you disappointed that our meeting never starts on time? Because you should give up on that now,” you roll your eyes, as he holds the door open for you, and you step past him.

“It’s nothing,” you set your things down, sitting, as he takes his own seat beside you.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Yuta tilts his head, leaning on his arm, a hint of concern across his features in his slightly furrowed brow and pursed lips, “you don’t have to talk about it — but if you want to, I’m here,”

You lean back in your chair, “It’s just my boyfriend — he’s been really busy with work so we haven’t been able to see each other, and now…” your gaze fixes itself to the table in front of you, taking in the faint scratches on the laminate wood, a sigh caught in the back of your throat, “he’s not sure if he’ll make it this weekend for my birthday, he said he would try his best,” and you shake your head, “and I know it’s a little…childish, but—”

“It’s not childish,” he gently cuts you off, “it’s understandable to want to spend your birthday with the person you love,” he leans forward to meet your eyes, “how about this? We can hang out on your birthday until your boyfriend comes down, because I’m sure he will,”

“How do you know?” and other people begin to file into the room, as he offers you a small smile.

“Who would ever keep you waiting?”

~~~~

“You don’t usually call at this time,” you yawn, rolling over in bed, as you hear Suguru rustle on the other end too — it was already late and you had already buried yourself under your comforter, scrolling on your phone before bed (even though you knew very well that you shouldn’t).

“Sorry did I wake you, sweetheart?” and you hum.

“What do I get if you did?” he laughs, his voice making your heart flutter in two seconds flat, “my sleep comes at a very high price, Professor,”

“Oh I know, I’ve paid that price several times, and you have willingly given it to me as well,” your lips curling, you knew he was lying on his back as he always did before bed, arm under his head as he looked up at his ceiling, “what’s the price this time?”

“Video call me,” and he does in an instant, his face popping up on your screen, lips quirked upwards at the sight of your face, glasses perched on his nose.

“Such an easy price this time,” and you yawn, turning over in bed onto your side, hiding your pout in your pillow — god, you wished he was beside you right now.

“The late hour’s making me soft,” you say, a strand of black falling in front of his face, and you only wish you could reach over and run your fingers through his silky strands, “did you need something?”

“I need someone,” and you snort.

“Well, you have me, congratulations,” you turn over onto your back, “now what do you plan to do with me?”

He smiles that same smile that had stolen your heart from the start, “Treasure you? Kiss you? Love you?” and your lips curl again, “apparently get a poodle and a dozen cats with you,”

“That’s a guarantee,” and he smiles.

“If it will make you happy, then yes it is,” you purse your lips, “what?”

“What’s gotten into you?” And his eyes seem to flicker elsewhere for a moment, “Suguru?”

His lips form a full smile, “Happy birthday, princess,” and you blink, glancing at the clock and realizing it was midnight now, “each and every day with you in my life has been the happiest I have ever been and ever hoped to be. I spent my life searching for the meaning of life — but I didn’t find it, until I met you,” his voice is soft as tears burn at the corner of your eyes, “I don’t know what it is that I’m owed — but I don’t know what I did to deserve you,”

“I love you,” you whisper, “I wish I could hold you,” your fingers caress the screen, as if your touch could teach through it, and he presses a kiss to his hand.

“I love you too — and I promise I’ll hold you soon,” he lays back on his bed, “you’ll be sick of me soon enough,”

“Never,” you settle onto your pillow, “will you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?”

He only smiles, “Anything for you.”

~~~

Anything but being able to be here by lunch or dinner at this rate. You checked your phone — only to find his last message — “I’m almost done. I’ll let you know when I leave for the station,”

But it had been over two hours and there had been no update — even after you had texted him twice to ask where he was. You were caught between worry and disappointment — anxiety pricking at your skin, enough to annoy but not enough to pierce through to full panic. And disappointment felt like a weight that hovered above your heart, close enough to feel, but not enough to hit yet.

You didn’t want to feel this. It wasn’t his fault. You knew that he was trying — and you didn’t resent him in the least for it. But that didn’t mean you wanted him here any less — especially after it had been almost two months without seeing each other.

And a knock at your door made your eyes snap over, as you tripped over yourself to get to the door, “Who is it?”

“It’s me—“ but it wasn’t Suguru — it was Yuta. And you opened the door, a small smile on your lips, as Yuta stood in a black sweater tucked into dark gray jeans, and a deep maroon jacket pulled over it, “happy birthday,”

“Oh, thanks—“ and you blink, “oh my god, we had plans I’m sorry — I forgot,” you groan, and he leans sideways to take a look at your apartment, spotting the blanket on your couch and a pillow.

“Did I interrupt your date with your couch?” you roll your eyes.

“You did actually, it was a good one too—“ he cuts you off with a look, “I don’t know if I really want to go out. I was thinking I’d just—“

“What? Sit here and become one with your couch?” he raises an eyebrow.

You pout, “Yuta, I don’t know. I think I rather stay home—“

And that’s what you had done all day — Suguru had checked in here and there — trying desperately to finish up work to make it for some part of your birthday but hadn’t checked in for two hours now. You were sure he was going to be on his way soon — but that didn’t make waiting any less depressing. Your phone even had sighed at you as you checked your messages for the millionth time to find no new ones — low battery life only taunting you in return.

“That’s what you’ve done all day — I’m sure your boyfriend would want you to go out and have fun—“ he crosses his arms in front of your doorway, “come on, we can just go watch a movie, no big deal — we can have some fun and kill a few hours, okay?”

And you stare at your phone again, before locking it — “let’s go,”

~~~~

Finally, Suguru sat down right as the train began to roll forward — he had barely made it. The meetings stacked up the day before had put far behind on his grading — he nearly couldn’t make it.

Not if he hadn’t stayed up until 3:00 AM.

He checked his phone — he should make it by 5:00 PM, which should leave plenty of time for dinner and he checked his bag for your gift — it was just what you wanted — a necklace you had pointed out to him, a dragon with multi-colored gems. He laid against the seat, his forehead leaning against the cool glass.

God, he missed you.

It had been too long. Since he had even seen your face not through his phone screen and heard your voice whisper in his ear not through his cellphone. But that’s all he saw and heard of you lately.

He didn’t know the department would be this much of a mess when he took over. The last department head was truly enjoying his retirement months before it began. It was enough he had his department head duties but to teach two classes on top of that was enough for work to pile up until it was untenable. And he was unavailable.

How many times had he fallen asleep on the phone with you? How many times had he canceled plans to come see you? How many times had he missed dates?

And how many more would there be?

He knew you said everything was fine, he knew you understood his circumstance, he knew it wouldn’t be forever — but still — he wrung his fingers in his lap — why did it feel like it already had been forever? Since he had seen you smile, seen you laugh, held your hand, kissed your lips — it felt as if you were disappearing from his grasp.

But he wouldn’t let it happen — he couldn’t.

~~~

“Please turn your cellphone off and place it in these bags before entering the movie,” the ticket attendant told you and Yuta as he handed you both your tickets for something called, Human Earthworm 4, handing you both phone pouches.

You knit your brow together, “But—”

“This is an early screening of the movie, so the staff has been told that all persons seeing this movie today must lock their phones in these pouches before entering the theater,” the attendant explains, gesturing to the cardboard cutout of the movie with a sign that said ‘early screening’ in bold letters, “otherwise you could exchange your tickets for a different movie,” you purse your lips — you had been looking forward to seeing this movie, especially early. And Yuta had even bought the tickets ahead of time after hearing you talk about it at one of the student government meetings.

Yuta’s eyes slide to you, “We can see another—”

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, giving a small smile, “Let me just send a quick text,” you step away for a moment, texting Suguru — I’m going into a movie, I have to turn off my phone. Let me know when you’re on the train.

You lock your phone with a sigh, placing it in the bag — either way, he hadn’t texted, so you were sure he wasn’t on the train yet. And you weren’t sure if he would even make it. It was fine — you glanced at Yuta, walking over to the movie theater — it really was.

Because it wouldn’t be forever.

~~~~

The screech of the train jerks Suguru awake, his eyes burning, as he glances out the window — the sun beginning to give up the sky already, starting its descent. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he checks the time — fuck, it had been an hour already. He leans back, glancing through his notifications and he sees a text from you.

Fuck, he had forgotten to respond to your messages earlier. He was a mess trying to get to the station, a flurry of papers, caffeine, and adrenaline — and he had spotted your messages before he left the office, only to make a mental note to reply once he was on the train. Where that note had been left in the recesses of his mind he could only guess.

He types: I’m so sorry, sweetheart — in my rush to get here, I didn’t let you know — I’m on the train already—

And then he pauses, he could surprise you — at your apartment. You’d be home after about an hour it seemed by the time he got to your place — it was perfect. He could pick up your cake (the one he had pre-ordered) and set everything up just in time — and then he could take you out for the dinner he had promised you.

He deletes the text, rewriting it — I’m so sorry sweetheart. I just finished work. I should be there by 7:00 PM. I love you. I’ll see you soon, birthday girl.

He sends the message, a smile on his lips — maybe there was something special he could do today, as he watches the train continue on its way.

He only hoped it would work out in his favor.

~~~

“It was perfect — the metaphor? Did you not see the metaphor?” Yuta nodding along to your rant as the two of you make it back to your apartment, “I know it seems like a dumb movie but if you read between the lines—” and you glance at Yuta, who continues to nod, and you stare, “you hated the movie, didn’t you?”

“No, no, I didn’t—” and then you raise an eyebrow, “it was really bad — have you seen good movies before?”

You laugh, shaking your head, “There’s no accounting for taste,”

“Clearly,” he replies, and you push him playfully, crossing your arms, as he grins back at you, “well, I’m glad you enjoyed it, that’s the important part,”

“And you got to bully me about my movie taste so that’s a lovely end to the evening,” he snorts, as the two of you make it outside your apartment door, “thanks for dragging me out — it was really nice,” you dig in your bag for your keys, “it was fun,”

“I’m glad I could help — I hope I made your day a little better,”

“You already do that by just being you, Yuta,” you pull your keys out, your phone slipping out with it — “shoot,” you kneel down and Yuta does too, fingers brushing as you pick it up — as your phone springs back to life, “shit, I guess i forgot to turn it back on,” as you rise, beginning to unlock your door as your texts start to come through — and you blink, right as you turn the knob, slowly reading the first message as you open the door only spotting Suguru’s back through the crack in the door.

Fuck. And you quickly shut the door.

“You okay?” Your eyes flicker up, forcing a small smile, as Yuta tilts his head.

“Yeah, sorry — my boyfriend is inside I think,” your mind in a dizzying panic, “I should go talk to him, alone,” you shift from foot to foot, looking incredibly awkward — but it seems to work, as Yuta nods.

“Right, of course, I”ll go,” he bites his lip, “let me know if you need anything ok?” And he’s gone, as you turn back around, taking a beat, before you open the door.

“Surprise?” you say, and Suguru is holding a cake with lit candles, lights dimmed, a small smile on his lips.

“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” he frowns at the expression on your face, “what’s—” and you shake your head, walking over.

“We’ll talk about that later,” you stand in front of him and your cake, “All I want to focus on is you and my cake,” and your lips curl, “and I believe I’m owed a song?”

“Happy birthday to you,” he sings softly, jawline illuminated by the low light of the candle, “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, my dear sweetheart,” and you bite back a grin, “Happy birthday to you,” he holds the cake up a little higher, “make a wish,”

You hum, “I don’t know what to wish for,” you blow out your candles, before taking the cake from his hands and placing it down before slipping into his arms, “I have everything I want right here.”

~~~

Suguru had almost gotten it right. Almost.

“Yuta almost saw you earlier,” you admit, “he didn’t, I realized before and made an excuse but,” you sigh, as the two of you sit on the couch, your fork toying with your slice of cake, “it was close,”

Close. Close to revealing your relationship. Lose to jeopardizing your future. Close to ruining your friendship. It was far too close — or was he far too close to you?

His brow knit together, “I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have let myself in and I should have texted earlier—“

“It’s not your fault, Suguru, it’s fine,” you offer a smile, “I don’t even mind if Yuta knows — he’s a good friend,”

“But still—“ you drag a finger through frosting and place a dollop on his nose, “sweetheart—“

“Let’s not focus on that right now. This is the first time I got to see you in weeks,” you lean over and lick the frosting from the tip of his nose, a warmth spreading across his face from your touch, “I want to enjoy the rest of my birthday with my boyfriend, okay?”

But he still couldn’t bring himself to pull away — not now.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips — it had been far too long since he had felt the soft press of your lips against his own. He could taste the frosting, the sickly sweetness didn’t begin to compare to your taste, and how much he had ached for it.

But it also didn’t stop him from dragging a finger dipped in frosting across your cheek.

“Suguru!” You gape at him, looking utterly too adorable with your pout and the frosting across your cheek, “on my birthday too?”

“Well, you’re so sweet, I wanted to see if it was possible for you to be even sweeter,” and he leans over licking the frosting from your cheek, “looks like it’s not possible—“ and you swallow his sentence with a kiss, as your plate and fork clatter as you set it down on your coffee table, climbing into his lap, your knees on either side, “our reservation — we’ll be late,” even so his hands drag down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“I think I want dessert first,” you murmur, before finding his lips in a kiss again.

It’s hours later, and you’re fast asleep beside him, your face buried against the crook of his neck, as Suguru runs his fingers through your hair. But he can’t sleep. Not when he keeps thinking about what you said.

You didn’t deserve this. To spend days waiting for your boyfriend to be free, to spend your time wondering when he would be able to call you, to spend your time stressed out at the idea of getting caught. A relationship should be easier, it should be fun — but you haven’t had either since he had to move.

His fingers brushes against the curve of your cheek and then tracing the chain of the necklace, thumbing the dragon charm. He loves you — he loves you, but was it enough when you deserved so much more? How many more things would he miss because of work? How many more things would you hide because you didn’t want him to feel guilty? How many more times would he let you?

He had felt you slipping from his fingers these last few weeks — he presses a kiss to your forehead — but he had never considered whether he should let you go.

Until now.

~~~

Can we call tonight? I miss you.

Suguru glances at his phone, students already filed in and sitting, the quiet chatter before class began. It had been like this for a week. He locked his phone, tucking it away in his pockets.

“If you all will sit and settle down, we’ll begin today’s lecture,” he says to the class, “we’re going to continue our discussion from last class on Scanlon — we’ll start with any questions left from our conversation,”

Several hands fly up, and he chooses one to speak, “I had a question,”

He blinks, spotting you amongst his students, “What are you—“

“Professor, you haven’t let me ask my question,” you pout, as you lean against the desk, arms crossed, “I need to understand the material to pass, don’t I?”

All replies get stuck in his throat — as words fail him, as they always did with you. He’s only able to nod. And you smile, lips curling wide.

“Scanlon posits the question “what do we owe to each other?’ But there is no one answer — we are meant to figure that on our own,” you lean back in your chair, “and I believe I’m owed at least a text back,”

The students’ quiet murmurings and piercing stares drawing heat up his neck, and you were the one who lit the match, flames licking at your heels.

“Sweetheart—“

“Do you get to call me that after how you’ve treated me?” you scoff, as you slide from your chair onto your feet, “no visit in weeks, barely any phone calls, and once we even got on the phone, you would fall asleep. Have you asked how I’ve been? How have I dealt with all of this? Do you even know how my semester is going?”

His mouth is a desert, and his words have all but deserted him — as he fumbles for any syllables he could grasp onto, but finds none. Because he has no excuses to be made.

You walk down the stairs of the lecture hall, as the slow steps you take ring in his ears, “do you know what I’m risking? My reputation, my career, my future — for what? For you? I know my answer to what I want in life. I know my answer is you — can you say the same?”

And the class is gone — and it’s only the two of you.

“I’d do anything for you, I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to. I—“ his voice breaks, and your hand finds his cheek, forcing his gaze to meet yours.

“Except let me go, apparently.”

RING. RING. RING.

His eyes flutter open, a breath caught in his throat, as he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, before reaching blindly for his phone. He glanced at the screen now, turning off the alarm, spotting a text from you at the top.

Morning Sugu — I miss you <3, can we call tonight?

And he stares at your message before locking his screen and placing his phone down and turning around.

He needed to talk to you.

~~~~

“You’ve checked your phone like for the millionth and one time,” your eyes find Yuta’s as the two of you continue to put up flyers for the student government hosted dinner later in the week, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” and he stares at you, “what?” And then you sigh, “my boyfriend — it just feels like he’s been avoiding me, and I don’t know why,”

“Have you asked him why?” He holds a flier and tapes it a bulletin board outside, and you shake your head, “maybe you should try,”

“I want to, I just never get a chance to — he’s been so busy with work and I haven’t—“ and you sigh — it had been over a week since you and Suguru had even spoken on the phone, much less even video called, “I feel like something’s wrong — something is bothering him,” your voice falters, as you swallow your emotions, a sigh on your lips, “I don’t know,”

Yuta takes a pause, stealing a glance at you, before he turns to look, “You’ll only know if you ask — and the longer you wait, the harder it will be to be honest,” he glances away, “trust me,”

You crumple the flier in your hand, squeezing, “I’m just scared of the answer,” you admit. It had been so difficult to get to this point — tears roll down your cheeks — to see Suguru slip away because of this would be too much.

“I know,” Yuta says softly, as he gently places his hand on your shoulder, “but you still need it regardless,”

And then you hear a voice call your name, and you wipe your tears hurriedly as Yuta pulls his hand away, your gaze snapping over to see Professor Yaga and—

Suguru?

~~~

“Look who’s here for a meeting,” Yaga says, clapping a hand to Suguru’s shoulder, “did you hear that Professor Geto had become department head of the Kyoto sister university?”

And Suguru knew you very well had — but you hadn’t heard he’d come here for a meeting. To be fair, he didn’t know until this morning — but to be even more fair, he had plenty of time to tell you. But he didn’t — because he was hoping he wouldn’t see you, not like this.

“I did,” you force a smile, “it’s good to see you, Professor Geto, how have you been?”

You’re a natural at acting as if nothing is the matter — but he’s become a master at seeing right through it. He spotted the way your fingers wiped away your tears, your red rimmed eyes, and the plastered on smile that was nearly pulling into a frown. He resisted the urge to purse his lips — he had wondered for a split second what had made you cry? Until he saw the flicker of a glare in your gaze, and he knew he was the reason.

And it was yet another reason he needed to end this.

And this — Suguru’s eyes flicker between you and your friend — was the friend he assumed was Yuta, his brow knit in confusion, “I’ve been well — it’s good to see you, I hope the semester has gone well for you?”

You shrug, your expression unreadable, “Well enough, you know how the semester goes — it’s very busy around this time. Easy for things to slip through the cracks,” and he forces his gaze to not waver.

“Very true, it’s important to keep on top of things,”

“Especially the important things,” you give both him and Professor Yaga a stiff smile, “It’s good to see you both, but we have more flyers to hang up for the event coming up later this week,” you take Yuta’s hand, “if you’ll excuse us,” and the two of you disappear off around the corner.

“It was good to see her, wasn’t it?” Professor Yaga says, a smile on his lips, “she’s come a long way after your class — she was already an excellent student, but now, I see even brighter things on her horizon,” as he continues to walk down the hallway in the opposite direction, and Suguru spares a single glance over his shoulder, before pulling out his phone and texting you:

Can we talk later? I’ll let you know where.

“It was.”

~~~~

“Old habits die hard?” you sat on Suguru’s old desk as he walked in, your arms crossed in front of you. And Suguru tilts his head, closing the door behind him.

“Did something happen in this room?” and you roll your eyes, as he steps forward, “ah, yes, you’re referring to your grades right?”

“Yes, my grades — I’m still upset about that 99,” but the playfulness all but dies on your lips as he draws close, your eyes unable to meet his gaze, as if you would see some truth you weren’t ready to uncover, “Suguru, what’s going on?”

“Sweetheart—”

“You’ve been distant since my birthday, avoiding calling me, you barely text me — and today, you didn’t even tell me you were in Tokyo,” your voice breaks — even if you had thought what you wanted to say to him a million times today — it didn’t make it any easier, “are you upset with me?”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he’s shaking his head, as he cups your cheeks, “you didn’t do anything except be completely wonderful,” he swallows, voice catching, as he seems to struggle with his words, “and that’s why I have to let you go,”

The sentence repeats in your mind over and over — and you still can’t make sense of it. No, no, it didn’t make sense. Why would he want to break up?

One word was all you could manage to respond with — “What?”

“Sweetheart, you deserve someone who can be there for you, someone who will be there with you when you need them, who will call you, prioritize you, give you all of their energy — and with this distance—”

“We can make it work—” and you know you’re crying now, tears rolling down his knuckles, filling the chasm he’s making between the two of you.

He’s running his fingers through his hair, “You’re making this work — I’m trying too but I haven’t been able to visit you, I haven’t been able to see you or talk to you properly in weeks—”

“It’s not forever, it won’t be like this. I’m almost done with my degree, I can move down to Kyoto—”

“And I don’t want you to limit your options because of me and my career,” he cuts you off gently, as his thumb rubs back and forth, wiping your tears away, “you have such a wonderful future ahead of you — whether you decide to pursue a Ph.D. or a lecturer position or whatever else — I want you to make that decision without my presence being a factor—”

“But—” and he’s pressing his lips to you softly, it’s gentle and sweet — his hands holding you as if you would break apart in his fingers before him, as his lips finally part yours “Suguru, I know what I’m doing—”

“I know, but so do I,” he murmurs, as he begins to step away from you, his warmth leaving your body, “if it’s easier for you to hate me, hate me — if it’s easier to be indifferent, be indifferent — I just can’t hold you back, sweetheart. I can’t do that to you — whether it’s professionally or personally,”

“Suguru, you’re not letting me have a say in this,” and he takes your hands, lacing your fingers together, “I want this, I know it’s been hard, but don’t you want this too?”

“I do — I love you, but that’s why I can’t do that to you. I want you to be happy—”

“Even if it comes at the cost of your own happiness?” you scoff, “Are you subscribing to utilitarianism? Are you okay being a happiness pump?” Your fingers try to find purchase on his cheek, but he pulls away, hands falling away from yours.

“I am, if it means you’re happy, then I am,” Suguru whispers, glancing away from him, “it’s not worth the risk,”

Your words are quiet, as you swallow your tears, and you force your voice to be steady, “You’re making this about me — when it’s about you too,” you brush past him, “I didn’t expect you to be a coward, Suguru, but I suppose, I got the answer I deserve.”

And the door shuts behind you, tears burning as you walk off — and you know that he wouldn’t follow.

But you still hoped he would.

~~~

Suguru stands by the window, watching students file in and out of the building.

It was the right thing to do. That’s what he kept telling himself — over and over and over. But if it was so right, then why did he feel wrong? Wrong for breaking your heart. Wrong for letting you wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He spent his time debating amongst others what right and wrong really was, but he always knew there would never be an answer.

And then he spots you leaving the building, before you bump into someone who stops you, your head down, but it doesn’t work, as the person pulls you into a hug. And he knew who it was — it was that student from earlier — Yuta. He had seen the way he looked at you — the same softness that Suguru had recognized because he saw it in himself.

He knew you deserved better, just because you were his answer —- he watched you sink into Yuta’s arms — doesn’t mean he was yours.

✧ a/n: ahhh the anticipated fourth part!! there’s gonna be one more part of the main series and then it’s onto extra credit fics :). Don’t worry it will be a happy ending!! I promise!

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @difficultdomains , @diogodxlot t, @that-goth-bisexual , @dazailover1900 0, @aliyalala , @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @maddietries ,

[mikareo]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ midnight love ⠀ ꒰ . . geto suguru x gn reader ꒱ . . . word count; 0.7k

⊹ ⠀⠀ heartbreak is a cycle. over, and over, and over again.

contains; geto suguru x gn reader, angst, geto dumped you and you can't get over it, mentions abandonment and attachment issues, lots of reader insecurities, womp womp author's note; hey ! XD

"you really can't be calling me at this hour anymore." suguru's voice is faint. he's likely just woken up from a deep slumber, probably dreaming of something far more interesting and attractive than you are, but that isn't a dream that you'd like to picture. he did this to you.

sometimes, he needs to see what your nightmares look like.

"i'm sorry, it's just that i've been thinking about everything again." clearing your throat, you can't help but notice that your voice can't stop shaking. get a grip of yourself. you're embarrassing. "i feel like we made a mistake. it's not crazy to try things again; we know what went wrong so let's just fix it this time. right? we can be even better this time around."

you know the hopefulness slipping from your tongue is something that suguru has grown to hate. he hates the guilt that it makes him feel. he hates the reminders of a time where he was so madly in love with you that he couldn't imagine sleeping through one of your sporadic phone calls in the middle of the night. he hates how it reminds him how hard you sobbed when he said those three little words. not 'i love you'...but 'let's break up'.

he hates that it makes him regret things.

so instead, he forces you to bottle it all up.

"i'm not interested anymore, i've told you that." the sound of your poorly mended heart shattering once more is far too familiar. "seriously, we crashed and burned so let's just leave it at that."

this is the third time he's said these words. the first being an hour after he dumped you over the phone, when you called him back amidst uncontrollable sobs and he didn't seem to care all that much. the second being a month after what would've been your first anniversary together, to which he was careless with your heart as you poured it out to him on his doorstep. now, the third, where it's been a whole three months since your untimely break up and your sleep has been lost to you for yet another night.

...and he still doesn't care.

he doesn't care about you.

he doesn't care at all.

why doesn't he care?

"suguru, please." it's pathetic to beg, but what else can you do? "i love you. i want to be with you and i'm willing to do anything to make it work. c'mon, work with me, here." just say yes. just say yes and maybe you'll smile again.

he takes a deep breath. you can count down the seconds until he exhales.

three.

you envision a scenario where he bolts from his bed, frantically grabs his jacket, and drives straight to your house. his hand hovers over the front door, ready to knock, when you fling it open and then fling yourself into his arms. suguru laughs at your eagerness, gently gripping your face beneath your jaw and kissing you tenderly. god, it's been so long since you felt his kisses. you could cry from the overwhelming happiness in your heart. the overwhelming joy that he never fails to make you feel when he's truly and completely in love with you, too.

two.

you recall one of your favorite dreams, one just a few nights ago, where suguru had never broken up with you in the first place. in fact, he thinks the mere thought is comically funny. he'd never ends things. you're the best thing that's ever happened to him and he never fails to tell you that at every hour of the day. he's the perfect boyfriend. he's the ideal husband. he's the man that you've been wishing for for your entire life...but he really is just that. he's a dream.

one.

"i don't love you anymore."

oh...

oh.

you wish this were a scenario. you wish you were sleeping. you wish he could've said anything other than those awful words, but this is reality. dreams don't reflect reality. dreams aren't real. his love for you isn't real. he doesn't love you. he doesn't want you. he doesn't need you. give up. give up. stop making a fool of yourself.

"but i love you."

pathetic.

you're pathetic.

the sigh he exhales is pitiful.

he's so obviously aware of how clingy you've become in your lonesome life that he's not even surprised by your behavior. he's not surprised by your confession. it's almost as if he expected it. he knows your flaws. he knows your stance on abandonment...on attachment...on absence. he knows you can't possibly function in a world without him...

...and he hangs up.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[colonelarr0w]

Just thinking about tracing Suguru's scar.

Word Count - 0.9k

A/N - I dedicate this piece to the Anon that flooded my inbox with 30+ messages telling me how it was canon that Gojo didn't have any scars.

Read the Gojo version here!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

GETO never let you see his scars after he received them — suddenly he was covering himself up with thick sweaters and baggy clothes. You noticed … you always noticed.  

But you said nothing, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to something that he was very clearly adamant on keeping hidden.  

One night, however, your curiosity got the better of you. You didn’t mean to pry as much as you did, but you desperately wanted Geto to know that you weren’t going to suddenly start looking at him differently because of some raised skin — you wanted him to be comfortable around you. 

You wanted things to be like they were before. 

He was different. You could see it as clear as day.  

His hugs didn’t last as long as they once did, instead of bear hugs that he wouldn’t pull away from unless you did first, you received a half-assed sideways squeeze.  

It felt like he didn’t want to be touching you in fear of contaminating you, like you would catch some otherworldly disease that didn’t yet have a cure. It hurt you – it stung in a way that nothing else could compare to.  

When you sat on the couch beside him, he would scoot a few inches away from you. 

When you laid down to take a nap beside him, he’d offer you only his pinky and nothing else.  

When you went to embrace him, his body would angle itself so that his shoulder rested against your chest.  

“Suguru?” you whisper to him under the cloak that night provided, turning to face him properly. He mimics you, rolling onto his side and propping himself up with the use of his elbow, palm resting against the side of his face.  

“Hmm?” he hums in response, eyes studying your expression. His face pinches in slight concern at your narrowed eyes and furrowed brows — something was very clearly upsetting you.  

“Are we okay?”  

He pauses, staring quizzically at you as if you had somehow sprouted another head. His free hand extends, finger rubbing affectionately against your cheek.  

“Course we are. Why do you ask?” he murmurs, breath catching in his throat as you push yourself to sit up. Your legs cross, one ankle over the other while you maintain eye contact with Geto.  

Your mind reminds you of what he had been doing; the behaviors that he had been displaying. What wasn’t he telling you? 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, not wanting to accidentally make a big deal out of something that could otherwise be nothing. 

“What are you hiding from me?” you whisper, already feeling tears build on your waterline at Geto’s shocked (and worried) expression. He looked so conflicted, so unsure that it made your heart crack.  

And even though he wants to believe that he has no idea what you’re referencing … he does.  

He looks away from you, and even though it’s only for a moment, it only makes your heart sink deeper into your stomach. “It’s—“ 

“Please don’t sit there and tell me it’s nothing,” you practically beg, voice cracking. Geto lets out a small sigh through his nose, adjusting himself so that he sits in front of you.  

“(Y/N)—“ he begins, but the way that you shake your head at him only makes him feel guilty, “—are you sure?” 

Your silence tells him everything that he needs to know.  

Slowly, and albeit very hesitantly, Geto lifts his shirt, revealing an ‘X’ shaped scar on his chest. Your breath hitches at the sight of it, the sound making Geto flinch.  

He tosses the shirt aside with a barely audible plop, not daring to make eye contact with you in fear of what expression you wore. So instead of glancing at you, Geto forces his eyes shut.  

They shoot right back open at the feeling of your fingers lightly tracing his chest.  

Shocked, his eyes flicker up to watch you. Your eyebrows are slightly pinched together, a worried indent to your forehead as your nails slowly move over the raised skin.  

You don’t say anything to him, not that you really need to. You knew that this — this gentle touch — was what Geto needed. He didn’t need half-assed reassurances that carried no weight. 

No, what he needed to know was that you were here, right with him, at his side — you weren’t going anywhere.  

Your finger reaches the end of where his scar slightly raises his skin. You shift forward, laying your palm against the center of the ‘X’, feeling Geto’s heart thumping against your fingers.  

He says nothing. You say nothing.  

Your eyes flicker up to meet his own. He returns your softened glance.  

“You’re so handsome Sugu … you know that, right?” you whisper tenderly, finally breaking the silence. The sigh he lets out in response is shaky, tear-filled.  

Before Geto has the chance to shake his head, your lips are on his scar, the softness of you contrasting greatly with the roughness of his skin.  

You glance back up at him, letting out a shocked squeak as he tugs you into his arms. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck, arms winding around his midsection.  

His breath shudders as his nose tucks into your hair. “Thank you.” 

You smile against him, turning your head and laying a chaste kiss against the skin of his throat. Your arms momentarily tighten around him, eyes closing in content. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too angel … thank you.” 

[woooyeahbaby]

How JJK Men Would React to You Being Stared At

warnings: creepy men staring at you, suggestive things, fem!reader, alcohol consumption (nanami)

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro

a/n: stupid tumblr isn’t letting me put my bat separator image between satoru and the characters list so take this gif i guess? i hate not knowing how tumblr works

Satoru Gojo

satoru could feel that guys eyes on you as soon as he started staring. it wouldn’t be the first time you two were in line and you’d been getting ogled by some random dude, and usually he’d just turn around and stare him in the eyes until the guy backed off. but he decided to have fun with it this time. first, satoru places his hand on your lower back, which isn’t uncommon, so you didn’t question it. he expected the guy to stop staring once he did that, since he’d realize you’re taken, but he didn’t let up. so satoru lowers his glasses slightly with his free hand, then, with the hand on your back, slowly slides it down to your ass. you look up at your boyfriend, confused, then see that his head is turned to look at the man behind you. his bright blue eyes are just burning into the other guys’, and you enjoyed seeing this scare tactic from your boyfriend. you didn’t stop him. the man behind you two stopped staring and went to another line.

Suguru Geto

suguru’s way of showing that you’re his is fairly similar to satoru’s. once again, standing in line at some restaurant, you’re holding suguru’s hand and contemplating your order. your boyfriend, on the other hand, is more focused on the guy behind you, whose eyes have not left your backside since he got there. however, unlike satoru, suguru doesn’t ease into reaching for your ass, he goes straight for it. he gives it a quick squeeze, making you jump slightly and whisper to him, asking what the hell he thinks he’s doing. he nods his head in the direction of the man, not even trying to hide the fact he’s talking about him. so, the both of you look at the guy, who is now turned away as if he wasn’t doing anything. suguru gently places his hands on your hips, guiding you to stand in front of him so nobody other than him can look at that part of you.

Kento Nanami

a silly little work holiday party that allowed a plus one. so, naturally, kento invited you, his girlfriend. what he hadn’t expected was for one of his coworkers to be eyeing you up the whole night. he waited for the perfect opportunity to show that coworker that he shouldn’t be looking at you of all people. you, kento, and that man were standing together, drinking wine and talking about whatever. of course, kento took into account that his coworker was tipsy, but didn’t take it as an excuse for him to be staring at your boobs. somehow, kento finds a way to be more straightforward than the previous two. “is there something wrong with my wife’s breasts?” not only does the question catch both you and his coworker off guard, but the usage of the word wife. of course, you weren’t complaining about that, but the fact you didn’t realize where the man’s eyes were until kento pointed it out made you uncomfortable. he apologized and walked away, embarrassed. kento smiled slightly at you, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before continuing the conversation as if nothing happened.

Toji Fushiguro

toji had a bit of spare money for once, so he thought, what else could he use it for other than taking his woman on a date? certainly not food, supplies for megumi, or anything like that… and that’s exactly what he did! of course, it was no place fancy, just a little ramen place. despite how rundown and messy the place looked, he didn’t necessarily expect some old guy to be ogling you from the next table. so, he took advantage of the quietness of the restaurant — other than the few other people in there talking and some sports game on the old tv — and looked that old man dead in the eye as he asked you; “since we’re eatin’ out tonight, can i eat you out tonight?” with his full voice. absolutely no effort to be quiet. because being discreet about that was the opposite of his goal. he wanted to show that old fart who you belong to. and it seemed to work, since the grey haired man quickly realized toji had been looking at him, which made him finish his food, slap his money on the table, and shuffle the hell out of there. this left toji smirking and you a blushing, embarrassed mess.

[brujawrites]

✧ ˚ · . 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 — 

masterlist

contains: suguru x female reader, utahime iori, shoko ieri, satoru gojo, kento nanami, college au, modern setting, college!suguru, english major!suguru, mutual pining, romance, smut, dr*g use, explicit themes, inspired by lana del rey lyrics, inspired by taylor swift lyrics, 18+ ONLY MDNI

synopsis: in your senior year of undergrad, you struggled with the idea of having everything you wanted. after experiencing severe burnout in being an overachiever for your sorority, finding Suguru in your senior seminar reignites a long-buried crush you've been harboring for two years since meeting him. seeing Suguru in your final required class feels like a sign to make sure you finish college with no regrets.

a/n: omg yall this is my first fic make some noise wtf AHHHHH in this story reader is def mentally ill and unwell - the lyrics "adorned, with smoke on my clothes, lovelorn and nobody knows," inspired the title. i expect this story to be very fluff and angst, especially the smut parts, all to say that i imagine being loved by english major!geto is a passionate, hedonistic glow up. a makeover from stripping down. plus i like the idea of reader x geto getting high and writing poetry together. ah! so many cute lil ideas for these two. i started writing and posting this on my ao3 but i want to interact with more people as i write it, so i'm sharing on tumblr hehe <3 welcoming all sorts of convo n feedback on the story as it gets posted.

ao3 - kofi - playlist - pinterest

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞,"

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: "𝐌𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 -- 𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮,"

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: "𝐑𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚, 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬,"

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: “𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐛,”

chapter 5 in progress

© BRUJAWRITES

[damn-stark]

Chapter 6 Where you are

Chapter 6 of Sugar

A/N- I hope you guys are enjoying the series so far!!

Warning- Swearing, FLUFF!!, talks of blood and self inflicting wounds, long chapter.

Pairing- Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode- Half of 2x01- 2x03

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

The most dangerous thing about the good times is that you may grow too comfortable with them.

Ever since the incident with the mundane non-sorcerer capturing you, life wasn’t easy, you couldn’t be as naive. Yet when you began to date Suguru, he basked you in a beaming light, he’s helped you heal from that pain, that trauma. It’s true you’ll always have to live with those memories, but being with him has brought this good comfort to your life that was lost. You aren’t naive again, but you’ve never felt more alive.

So now that you are comfortable with life again all you want is this, you want to keep your friends, Suguru, and Satoru by your side. You want to continue living where you are now, in this happiness.

“Hey guys, I’m back—” You quickly cut yourself off after you open the gym door and walk into Suguru glaring at your brother, and your brother blabbing about something you can see is annoying Suguru.

“Quit making yourself feel better by sprouting bullshit.” Satoru raises his hand and pretends to act disgusted. “Blegh.”

What a pain in the ass. Why do they have to be like this?

Shoko spots you and quickly chooses to take her chance to run to you still by the door.

“Actually,” you announce loudly as you let the doors go and back up. “Forget I’m here.”

There’s one thing you’ve grown to really, truly hate since being here at school, and that is Suguru and Satoru arguing. They don’t get into physical fights, or stop talking to one another for periods of days—actually the day after you told Satoru you were dating Suguru, Suguru said he acted normal. So their arguments don’t escalate to nothing bad, but they are super fucking annoying!

Satoru and Suguru both have different ideals. Suguru always tries to have your brother see things his way. Suguru tries to humble your brother, but Satoru is hard headed so he doesn’t listen, he argues back and just makes things a petty mess. Which is why when they get like that you just stay out of it and or leave them alone until things cool off again.

And like now for example, and like many times before, Shoko leaves with you.

“How was today?” You ask her as you walk away from the gym.

Shoko shrugs nonchalantly. “Easy, but that’s why I got sent. It did feel nice going out with them though.”

You shoot her a small smile and interject. “You kill any curses?”

Shoko shakes her head. “Nah, Satoru and Suguru did most of the work. I was the support, and I was there for the experience.

You laugh softly. “I’d love to have you as my support,” you tease her. “I know I’d get my work done quicker.”

Shoko pushes your shoulder slightly. “Don’t tease me like that or I’ll gladly take you away from Geto.”

You both laugh and proceed to hook your arms around each others. Once you both calm down you cut in. “Are you free while Suguru finishes arguing with my brother? I want to practice my reverse cursed technique.”

Shoko looks at you with her eyebrows knitted together. “And you need me for what?” She asks. “To explain how it works?” She sighs and tilts her head away. “Because I really suck at that.”

You shake your head. “No, I know how it works, but I’m still learning though, so I need you to be my lookout, and to guide me,” you explain.

Shoko’s gaze drifts to you and she offers you a small smile. “Okay, I can do that.”

Like with Suguru, you take Shoko to your favorite spot up the hill and by the pond.

“So you know the basics, right?” Shoko inquires as she lets your hand go to sit on the bench whilst you sit on a large flat rock in front of the pond.

“Yes,” you agree. “Negative cursed energy times negative cursed energy equals positive cursed energy. It’s easy to grasp!”

Shoko folds her arms over her chests and shrugs. “You’d think, but only a selected few actually grasp the concept.”

You hum softly in agreement, and proceed to put your hand out and point your palm to the sky to quickly get into it before Suguru can find you.

“I learned it when I was a little girl,” you let Shoko know as you pick up a sharp enough looking stone from the ground around you. “I’ve just never actually developed it since I focused on bettering my cursed technique instead. But now that I’m here and actually have time. And now that you’re my friend and have such a special skill,” you flatter her. “I can finally focus on actually mastering RCT.”

You push the sharp stone towards your palm, but hesitate to actually cut it.

Albeit you know there’s no other way to actually practice without having to heal something. But, fuck! You are scared of the fucking pain.

You’re been through worse, but this is voluntary—But there’s no other way to get better. At least for you anyway.

Fuck! Fuck…okay here goes nothing.

You press the sharp end of the stone deep in your flesh and slice your palm, causing blood to quickly rush out and drop onto the rock you sit on.

It hurts like hell, but you try your best to drift your focus on healing your wound. After all, when it comes down to it, on a mission you’ll need to use RCT to heal your body, or worse, pull you from the nasty grasps of death. Which is why you inhale deeply and try to drift that positive cursed energy from your chest to your wounded palm. However, it’s as your chest rises that Shoko quickly leaves her spot on the bench and crouches down in front of you.

“No,” she cuts in and grabs your wrist, not caring if she could get stained by blood. “Unlike our cursed energy which flows from our stomach,” she says as she swiftly moves her hand over to touch your stomach. “RCT is directed from the brain,” she says and now moves her hand to point at your head.

RCT is something you barely grasped, but never dived too deep into. So what she says is really surprising and informative.

“Alright,” you mutter and let your breath go to now drive your focus to your head, to focus on the negative cursed energy you produce to positive.

And it’s funny, or great in a sense. You can actually feel your mind producing that positive cursed energy, it feels…tingly but soothing. As you focus on driving it to your bleeding wound you can actually feel that positive cursed energy flowing to your hand. It’s amazing.

Yet nothing beats how awe-striking it is to watch RCT stitch your flesh back together. If it weren’t for the blood staining your hand, it’d be like nothing ever happened. There’s not even a scar.

Then again, the cut was small and done without cursed energy hurting you. Scars can still form on severe cases.

“I need you to promise me something, Y/N Gojo,” Shoko interjects, causing your attention to snap to her standing up—“with RCT directed from your brain it means that if you face an opponent and they figure out you can heal yourself, they’ll go for your head so you can’t heal. So,” she says softly. “Always protect your head. You are more skilled in long range combat after all.”

You blink in surprise to her expression of affection. She’s not someone who actually acts cool and distant like Nanami, she shows her affection in her own ways, but it’s rare hearing her express it verbally and with such vulnerability.

“Well,” you sigh. “That’s true,” you agree. “But Satoru and Suguru are both helping me train in close combat, so down the line I’ll be comfortable using both.”

Shoko averts her gaze and hums softly as she nods. “Okay,” she says before sliding her eyes back to you. “Well that doesn’t change anything. Promise me you’ll protect your head…life around here would be pretty boring without you.”

You push yourself up and approach her with an assuring smile. “Well if that’s the case,” you say. “Then I promise I’ll always try to be careful, Ieiri. I swear.”

Said girls lips pull to a soft smile before she chuckles and nods. “Good,” she mumbles. “Now,” she sighs and sits on the bench again. “Heal a cut made by the stone I’ll imbue with my cursed energy because—”

“They’re harder to heal,” you finish for her as you step back and sit back down on your spot.

Shoko scoffs. “No—well sometimes, but actually, they’re slower to heal.”

You hum in comprehension and pick up a different stone to throw over to her waiting hand. And just like she mentioned, when you cut your palm with the stone imbued by cursed energy, you feel the RCT heal your wound slower than before. This time rather than it feeling soothing, when your hand begins to heal, it feels…irritating for the first few seconds until you don’t feel anything.

Is it going to feel like this all the time then? That’s annoying.

“See, now you’ve mastered it,” Shoko deadpans. “Easy. Just remember that it comes from your brain, not your stomach, so please don’t fry your brain either.”

You lean back on the rock by putting your arms back, and then counter her. “It might be easy, but I need to perfect it.”

Shoko shrugs sluggishly. “I guess.”

Now that you’ve got that over with, you wonder where Suguru is. It’s been a while now and you did agree to train together today.

Did they really get in a fight?

You to Sugar: Did you and my brother kill each other or? Where are you?

“Can you help me later?” Shoko interjects. “My lab rats only get me so far, I need to test out on a person.”

Your face twists in horror. She wants you to be her labrat?

The last time that happened you ended up with a broken nail and a twisted wrist. It hurt! Seeing your nail break hurt your soul.

“Well…” You roll out hesitantly and avert your gaze.

However, before you can answer your phone goes off as a message arrives. When you check you instantly smile.

Sugar: Here

Your smile fades and you feel confused now. Nevertheless just as you were typing your probing question, multiple footsteps can be heard approaching the area. When you look over to the path you catch sight of Suguru coming up the hill first. You shoot each other a smile before suddenly Satoru runs past him and runs over to you to push you down before he runs past you.

“Hey!” You shout before you get up and chase after him.

Satoru doesn’t run away fast, so you catch up to him quickly and push him back.

Satoru laughs and lets himself fall beside Shoko on the bench. You don’t get carried away and leave him be, instead you just glare at him whilst Suguru falls beside you.

“What were you guys fighting about earlier?” You express your curiosity since you walked in while it was already tense.

“Nothing,” Satoru answers bluntly, whilst Suguru proceeds to answer at the same time with an actual response.

“Difference in morals, Yaga cut us off before anything could develop though.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance. You should’ve known, it was almost always the same thing.

“Anyway, onto actually interesting news,” Shoko cuts in and pushes your knee with her shoe. “Y/N here mastered RCT.”

You shake your head and quickly rebuttal her. “Not mastered. I still need to get better, but yes I've understood the concept a lot better now. Which will help me better.” You tried not to but you can’t help it. You get excited to show it off, especially to your brother. “Watch!”

You proceed to pick up the stones you had been using, and while Shoko imbues one stone with her cursed energy you use the other normal stone to cut your palm again.

“That doesn’t seem sanitary whatsoever,” Satoru mutters as he watches you lean over to let Shoko cut your other palm with the imbued stone.

“It doesn’t matter,” you brush Satoru off and lift your hands to show off your palms to the three spectators. “Now watch!”

Suguru leans to the side to take a better look at your palms, while you focus on your brain and multiply the negative cursed energy to create positive cursed energy. Once again that weird sensation hits you, but that quickly gets drowned out by your excitement as your wounds begin to heal.

“You seeing it?!” You ask your brother with a grin.

Satoru nods softly. “Yeah I’m watching. Good job, sis,” he says genuinely.

You can’t contain your excitement and let it out by embracing Suguru’s arm.

“I’m glad you finally got around to finish learning that,” Suguru says as he tilts his head down to rest his chin on your head. He would’ve kissed your head, he likes doing that all the time, it’s his favorite thing to do when you aren’t kissing each others lips, but of course he doesn’t now because he says he doesn’t want to make Satoru uncomfortable by actually kissing you, even if it is just your head. So instead he likes to remedy that by small acts when you’re around your brother; like wrapping his arm around your shoulders, hooking his pinky with yours, sitting behind you and wrapping his legs around you, or like now, holding your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve pushed it off for far too long,” you say and hold onto him tighter.

“Now she’s better at something else than you,” Shoko directs at Satoru.

It’s not like you tried to do it for that reason, actually you learned RCT to try and impress your parents when you were young. Let’s just say they didn’t really care though.

“What’s the other thing may I ask?” Your brother asks as he you see him look at your friend with an unamused look.

Shoko smirks. “Looks,” she doesn’t hold back from saying.

You beam at her and hear Suguru laugh, whilst Suguru rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disagreement.

“Now let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” he says, making you groan. “Let’s instead focus on the reason why we stopped here.”

You raise a questioning brow and press him. “What do you mean?”

Satoru shoots you a smirk. “Suguru and I are going on a three-day mission starting today. We should be on our way, but,” he pauses and groans. “Suguru wanted to stop by to talk to y/n.”

Your eyes widen slightly before you let Suguru’s arm go to step back and look between him and your brother with curiosity. “Mission?” You probe. “Since when?”

Suguru passes Satoru an annoyed look before he meets your gaze and answers. “Since today, that’s why Yaga interrupted us. We’re being sent to protect Tengen’s Star Plasma vessel from two groups that are trying to stop her from joining Tengen and merging.”

Her?

“One is the Curse User Group Q,” Satoru continues for Suguru. “Which is looking to upend Jujutsu society with Tengens rampage.”

“Okay,” Shoko says in comprehension, whilst your mind dwindles between the information and the fact that it’s a girl they’re protecting.

You shouldn’t be jealous, it’s a job, and from what you’ve learned on Tengen, he needs a vessel to stop himself from evolving to some higher being. So the girl is going to die and what is it…become one with Tengen? Or become him? It? They? Well whatever, the girl is going to die—but you are still feeling inklings of jealousy.

“And the other group,” Satoru continues. “Is the Star Religious group, also known as the Time Vessel Association, which worships Tengen as a god or something.”

Why do they want to stop Tengen from assimilating then if he’s their god?

Yet before you can ask that something else spills out of your mouth. “How old is this girl?”

Shoko chuckles, and Satoru scoffs before Suguru answers, “middle school age.”

Oh, what a relief.

“So you’ll be away from school why? Isn’t it safer bringing her here?” You ask. “Have her spend the rest of her time here where it’s protected?”

Satoru shrugs. “You’d think, but we’re supposed to stay away until the last day. I’ll see if I can change that though,” he comments with obvious annoyance. “I’m not entertaining no brat.”

Suguru sighs in disagreement but doesn’t comment, instead he grabs your arm and begins to pull you to him. “Satoru why don’t you meet me down the hill? We need to go now, we’ve wasted enough time as it is. I just want to talk to y/n first.”

Your brother narrows his gaze and slouches with the intention not to move.

“Satoru,” you call out so he can listen.

Shoko gets the memo and when she gets up she grabs Satoru’s arm to drag him with her. Luckily he doesn’t make this harder than it needs to be and follows her.

“Two minutes,” Satoru warns Suguru nevertheless. “Or I will come and drag you out.”

You roll your eyes, but Suguru just nods without bothering to counter back with something sassy or filled with annoyance. You then proceed to watch your brother walk away until he’s no longer visible.

“Three days?” You question as Suguru turns to face you now.

Suguru nods softly. “Yeah, but we might end up coming back here after we pick her up. I don’t know, I'll let you know.”

You scoff and shoot him a smile as you lean over and press your hands on the sides of his neck. “No, don’t distract yourself, you don’t have to text me. Focus on the mission and keeping yourself safe. Please.”

A small smile tugs on his lips and he carefully begins to caress your hand that you have on his neck. “I will, but I do have your brother so I’ll be okay.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah I know. But still,” you say. “I don’t want to distract you. If you’re not here by tonight I’ll send you something. And if you miss me throughout the day, watch your homescreen or look through your camera roll full of pictures of me.” You laugh softly. “Or look at your messages…I might surprise you and send you a picture.”

Suguru grins and raises his hands to cup your cheeks and pull you in for a deep kiss. You cherish it and revel in it as if you won’t see each other again, as if you’re afraid to forget the taste of each other's lips. You proceed to tease him to keep him with you longer, but just as you swipe your tongue on his bottom lip he pulls back and presses a kiss on the top of your head instead.

“You know I can’t stay long,” he mutters against you. “Be wary of your phone, okay? You’re strong—”

You scoff in protest, but he pulls his head back to meet your gaze and reassure you. “You are, and we might need you, so just be wary. Regardless I’ll call you later.”

He didn’t listen to you whatsoever.

“Fine,” you say and don’t bother arguing. “Be careful…” you pause as you want to say those three meaningful words again, but you stop short before you can even utter them. You’re still too scared to do it.

You don’t want him to reject you, nor do you want to force him to repeat it if he doesn’t mean it yet.

“Look out for each other,” you add instead. “I do want to see you again, you know?”

Suguru laughs softly before pressing one last kiss on your lips. “I’ll be careful, Firefly.”

You groan in protest and push him back, causing him to snicker before he takes your hand and walks with you down the hill.

And just like he was told, Satoru is waiting for Suguru down the hill. Except he’s being annoying about it and tapping his foot on the floor while he has his arms crossed.

Since you’ve said your goodbyes with your boyfriend though you walk to your brother. “Be careful, Satoru, okay?”

“I don't need to be careful,” he responds all smugly, making you roll your eyes but continue to try and be sweet and caring.

“Just don’t die, look out for each other and…come back.”

Satoru tilts his head down to look at you with his eyes before he responds in the same smugness. “Don’t worry, sis.” He shoots you a half grin. “I’ll be fine.” He turns on his heels and grabs Suguru’s arm to pull him along, most likely because he thought Suguru would want to take one more minute with you.

You still follow them though, all the way to the exit. They both wave at you when they’re walking out, and you wave back with a small smile on your face. When they give you their backs as they keep retreating, you just stand there and watch their figures turn smaller until you can no longer see them.

You have nothing to worry about, you tell yourself so as to not worry about the two most important people in your life. Theye the strongest after all.

——

*LATER*

“What about after graduation?” You ask your group of friends. “Do you guys have any specific plans or are you planning on staying here?”

It had been only a couple hours since Satoru and Suguru left, and you’ve kept yourself busy at home since then since you didn’t get sent out on a mission after the one you went to in the morning; you’ve trained with your cursed technique, mediatated, and read. Now you’re helping Shoko just like promised, except Haibara and Nanami are with you too.

Well Nanami ended up helping Shoko, you are…supporting her from across the small table, and talking to her and your friends with your legs on Nanami’s lap, and your body leaned against Haibara as you give yourself a nice manicure.

“Well I already have a cozy job offer here,” Shoko shares nonchalantly. “So unless I get offered something better, then I’m staying here.”

You hum in comprehension and tilt your head back to peek at Haibara as he answers your question next. “Well I actually would like to be a teacher, so if they gave me a job here I would totally stay.” He says with enthusiasm before looking at you from the corner of his eyes. “What about you?”

You roll your head down and watch as you file the nail on your left pointer finger. “I’m leaving after school. I’ll accept jobs, but I won’t stay here.” You sigh. “I have goals I want to accomplish that don't involve staying here. Maybe I’ll be like Miss Yuki Tsukumo.” You smile proudly. “She’s so cool! I want to be like her when I grow up.”

Nanami scoffs before retorting. “She’s a slack off, she doesn’t pick up missions so that leaves us to do more work. She’s an adult but acts like a rebellious teen. You have the potential to be a lot better.”

You shrug him off and defend a woman you’ve never met before but have only heard about. “Well I think she’s cool. And the higher ups dislike her so she’s even cooler in my book.”

You move onto your last nail and only remember that you’re helping Shoko when he asks her a question from her notes.

“How many pairs of chromosomes does a human being typically have?”

You’ve always wondered why it is that Shoko wants to actually study to be an actual doctor when she has her special RCT ability that does all the work. And she put it simply, she wants the title and it’ll help her understand medical situations better. If it were you, you wouldn't do all that, but now that she’s doing it, good for her. You support her, and are proud of her.

“23 pairs,” she answers nonchalantly.

Nanami nods in agreement and pulls out the next notecard.

“So what about a family?” Shoko asks a different question to drift away from her study. “Would you guys want a family of your own? I don’t know if I would, I’ll go with the flow. All I do know is that I’m going to become a doctor.”

You smile at her with pride whilst you also give her your hand so she can help you paint your nails.

“Well,” you sigh and answer what comes to mind. “I don’t know, I’ve never given it any thought. It’d be nice I think, but…” you pause for a second and look up at the ceiling. “I really don’t know.”

The world isn’t perfect, it never will be, but you know all the ugly that it contains. It’s why you’ve never actually let yourself actually think too deeply about that. It’s why you’re okay if you don’t have a family of your own, plus you’re happy with the family you already have; your brother, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara and Suguru. As long as you have them in your life you’ll always be satisfied.

“Now you, Haibara,” you direct back at your friend. “What are your thoughts?”

“Hm, well,” he hums quietly before he shares what he knows. “I think it would be nice when I meet the right person.”

You smile softly and nod. “That’s good.” You look at the blond guy across you and give him the option to answer since he was mostly quiet while you all talked. “And you Nanamin?”

“No,” he answers bluntly. “I don’t think so, at least not while I continue doing this.”

“Fair.”

“Now, next question,” he drifts the attention away. “What part of the body produces insulin?”

Shoko props her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her hands as she thinks.

“Liver?” She answers hesitantly.

Nanami shakes his head and presses the notecard on the table so she can see the real answer; the pancreas.

“Oh,” she laughs it off. “I was going to answer with that. It’s a good thing I still have some time to go before I begin to study for my doctor's license.”

Nanami shakes his head in disapproval, and Haibara and you laugh. Shoko smirks before she lets your hand go so the paint can dry. You’re about to give her your other hand but then your phone rings, so you quickly slide your legs off Nanami’s lap and sit up. When you pick your phone you see that it’s Suguru calling you.

You told him not to, but you’re happy that he is, so you answer right away. “Hello!” You smile wider. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he relieves you of that worry. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. We just uh, fought some curse users here…”

That doesn’t sound fine.

Your smile falls and you press him with worry and annoyance that was he brushing off the real danger of it all just to assure you. “That doesn’t sound fine. Where are you guys?”

“We’re fine,” he repeats himself. “We are now, that's why I’m calling you.” He laughs softly, but you find no amusement or reassurance in that laugh.

“You also said you’d call if you were in danger—are you being held captive? Cough if you need help.”

“Is everything okay?” Haibara interjects as they all listen in.

“Y/N,” Suguru calls out firmly. “I’m okay, Satoru is okay. We are okay. I just…wanted to hear from you.”

Regardless of how annoyed you currently feel, your face burns and a smile twitches on your face. “Well in that case,” you play along. “I am glad you’re calling. I know it must be hard work, so thank you for taking time out of your day to call. But are you sure it’s okay? I’ve been holding back from texting you out of fear that I’ll distract you.”

Suguru shares a breathless laugh. “It’s fine, darling.”

He’s never called you that before. Your mother used to call you that, but she never actually meant it affectionately, and it was always while she was being manipulative about something.

But Suguru, his voice is soft when he says it, it’s not dry or emotionless. You like the way he says it.

“Well, okay then,” you whisper. “What do you want to hear? How proud I am of you? I’m not there but I know you’re doing a good job.” You smirk.

“Please,” Nanami cuts in. “Take that call somewhere else.”

You wave him off and once again swing your legs over to rest them on his lap.

“No,” Suguru mumbles. “You don’t need to do that, especially because I’m not done yet. Just tell me about your day, what are you doing now?”

“Now?” You repeat and look around at your group of friends. “I’m helping Shoko by being her laprat.”

Suguru scoffs. “Labrat? Again? Well please tell her to keep you whole, I do look forward to seeing you again.”

You grin and can’t help but giggle like a lovestruck dork.

“I will relay the message, but don’t worry I’m helping her study.”

“You are?” Nanami mutters.

You laugh. “I am!” You counter. “I'm her emotional and mental support. So is Haibara.”

“I like the sound of that,” said guy agrees.

You throw your hand out and give him a thumbs up before you focus back on Suguru.

“Are you coming back here?” You ask him full of hope.

Suguru sighs and stays quiet for a moment, making you begin to worry. Before you can ask he answers. “No, not yet. We’re actually on our way to Naha.”

“You’re going to Okinawa?” You cut in with disbelief, making your friends pay closer attention. “What for?”

There’s another second of silence before he answers. “Uh, the vessel, Riko Amanai, her caregiver got captured by the Time Vessel association, so we’re going to go rescue her.”

The mundane non-sorcerer cult took the caregiver?

Here you thought they’d be weak.

“So you lied?” You remark.

“No,” Suguru quickly rebuttals. “No, we’re fine, we’ll get her back with no trouble I’m sure of it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long do you think you’ll stay there then?” You ask quieter.

“We’re flying over tonight and getting the caregiver back in the morning, so just a day…that’s actually another reason why I’m calling you too.”

You sigh. “Here I thought you actually wanted to talk to me. Pft.”

“I did want to hear your voice, that's why I delayed on telling you this now,” he argues back. “Yaga is probably going to tell you soon, but we need you, Nanami and Haibara to fly in tomorrow morning. The guys will be guarding the airport and you’ll meet up with us.”

At least you’ll see him again, that’s the good thing. But he did avoid telling you about the trouble they’re facing though, so that’s irritating.

“We’ll be at an Island,” he continues to add. “So you’ll have an advantage with your cursed technique just in case something does happen while we’re here.”

You hum in agreement, and that’s when he notices that you aren’t excited as you should be.

“I didn’t hide the truth on purpose, you know?” He argues.

This time you listen to what Nanami complained about and sit up. “Just hold on,” you tell Suguru, and then get up and step out of the room to talk to him now that your conversation has drifted to something more private and serious.

“Okay, I’m back now, and I’ll just say,” you interject right away. “I could have handled it. You don’t need to protect me. One it’s not you or my brother in danger so it would be easier to understand. Two, if this is going to continue working we need to communicate. You can’t decide for me what you think is okay or not, I decide that. And I know I can be a little sensitive, but you can’t shield me from the ugly you know?”

A deep breath comes from the other end and silence follows. You can’t see his face but you wish you could so you can read his expression. You don’t regret what you just said, you don’t even feel bad, it’s your truth, and a truth he needs to know if you're going to continue dating. But you don’t like the silence. It makes you nervous.

It’s not until a few seconds later that Suguru interjects softly. “I understand, I’m sorry. I should have not avoided the subject from the beginning, you’re right you can handle it. I just did want to hear from you first, it’s been a…long day.”

You smile bashfully down at the floor beneath your feet. “I guess the news would’ve spoiled the mood,” you admit.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But you are also right. I shouldn’t have shielded you from the truth. Not at a time like this.”

You nod. “Exactly.” You smile softly and just before either of you could say anything, the voice of your brother is heard in the background.

“Hey, you’re still talking to y/n?”

“Yes?” Suguru answers.

You narrow your gaze slightly in confusion, but you then understand why he bothered to ask.

“Okay, just pass her to me, I need to talk to her,” Satoru mutters quickly before you hear commotion and then his voice through the phone. “Sis before you leave, while you pack, go to my room and bring me some casual clothes. Something comfortable. Understand?”

You sigh and don’t even think of your answer. “All right. I understand.”

“Good! Thank you—oh and bring yourself something comfortable too! Beachwear. So bring me something for that too actually.”

You look down at the floor confused before you probe. “Why? What are you planning?”

You can practically hear your brother grin before he answers evasively. “Just do what I ask.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine,” you breathe out, but drop your annoyance quickly as you fill with worry again. “Are you okay, Satoru? Have you eaten? Slept?”

“Hey,” he blurts. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m strong, and I’m the oldest sibling here. Just worry about getting here, and…Suguru. I’m fine.”

Yeah you won’t do that but you don’t want to argue so you just mumble back. “I understand.”

Footsteps begin to echo nearby so you look off the ground and see Yaga approaching. Most likely with the news Suguru just shared with you.

“I have to go,” you let Satoru know. “But! You’re on your way to the airport right?”

“Uh-huh.”

You smile excitedly. “Okay, do me a huge favor, go to that shop we like to go to, the one next to—”

“Mochi?” He finishes saying for you. “I’m so ahead of you, sis. I got us some!”

You grin. “Yay. Okay, okay I really have to go now. Bye.”

“I’ll pass you back to Suguru.” Satoru says, and you hear rustling as he does just that.

Yet just before your boyfriend can actually give you a proper goodbye, Satoru hangs up for him. “Goodbye—“

He’s still hesitant about Suguru and you. It’s not as bad as before, but he still hasn’t fully come to terms with the fact.

Then again can you blame him? You’re his little sister, someone he’s protected and looked after all his life. And Suguru is his best friend. The only one you’ve ever seen him have, so you’re both important to him. He has every right to be protective over the both of you. However he does need to trust the both of you too.

“Gojo,” Yaga greets as he approaches the porch.

You put your phone away and offer him a tiny smile as you return his greeting. “Yaga.”

Said man sighs and points his chin to your phone. “Was that your brother?”

You nod. “It was, Suguru called me and Satoru butt in.”

Yaga hums before he continues. “Then I assume you know about what you’re going to do?” He says. “Geto said he’d call you to catch you up.”

You nod and turn around to open the door to the room you were just in. “Yeah, I know everything.”

“I normally wouldn't have chosen to send you or the others yet,” Yaga explains as he trails after you “But Geto and your brother asked for the three of you. So I’m going to trust you, all of you, to do your jobs and make it back.”

You look back and shoot him a prideful smirk. “Don’t worry,” you assure the man. “We can handle what may come our way. We’re strong together.”

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Ever since coming to school, getting out of your school uniform is growing to be pretty uncommon, sure you find the smallest excuses to wear all the clothes you have and buy, but it’s hardly enough.

Coming to actual fun places for missions is rare. Sure nothing about hiding out from bounty hunters is fun, but every mission you’ve gone to has dark corners, sketchy streets, dark to dim lighting, it’s all truly ugly.

It’s why you don’t even think twice about going all out right now at the beach! You wear a bathing suit under your bright colored tight corset and black mini skirt. You wear cute and expensive shades, you can even carry a cute bag that matches the color of your platform sandals. Plus it helps you not stand out, you blend right in with the rest of the beachgoers!

Albeit you do wonder why you’re at the beach exactly. The guys said to meet them at the beach right as you got off the plane instead of letting you help like you were sent here to do. Howbeit! You’re not complaining, you love the beach, you love the sun kissing your skin, the sound of the crashing waves, the salty air, the calmness of the environment—

Actually! There is one thing you are complaining about, they’re late. They were supposed to meet up with you thirty minutes ago. So it’s a good thing you’re at the beach and not anywhere haunted, you would’ve flipped if it was the latter.

And now you would message them, but you’d rather not bother and leave them worrying instead.

And it’s a good thing you do because they leave you waiting for another fifteen minutes before Satoru and Suguru get off a cab with a young black haired girl, and an older woman dressed like a maid.

“Sorry—”

“I could’ve been dead already,” you cut Suguru off and cross your arms over your chest as you glare at the both of them.

Satoru skips over to close the gap between him and you. “You’re too annoying to kill,” he blurts teasingly. “Did you bring my things?”

You sigh and drop your arms to your side to pick up a totebag off the ground and hand it to your brother. “Don’t mess it up, I have stuff in there too.”

Satoru flashes you a grin. “Thanks, and…” he trails off and gives you a gift bag from the sweet shop with the good mochi.

You can’t stay upset anymore so you smile at him before he walks off to change out of his uniform.

“You land all right?” You hear Suguru ask as you’re focused on taking out the mochi your brother gave you.

“Yeah,” you answer with your attention wavered. “You okay?” You finally look up at him as you pull out the package, and smile when you see that he’s not hurt. “You look good, are you?”

Suguru’s smile deepens as he nods. “Yeah. The work was simple. The interrogation did take longer than expected though. Sorry about that.”

You open the box and shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, I like being here,” you assure him. “Albeit why are we here? At the beach I mean? Won’t it be easier protecting…” you trail off and glance at the young girl past his shoulder, and catch her eyes already on you. “…the girl at school?”

Suguru sighs and nods. “It would, but Tengen ordered us to let her enjoy her time before the merge. So we’re here.”

You hum in comprehension and take a bite from your snack. “Well, I can’t say I'm complaining,” you say with your mouth full. “This is the best mission location I’ve been to so far.”

Suguru smiles softly before he checks that Satoru isn’t coming.

When the ghost is clear he leans over and presses a kiss on your cheek. “You look good by the way.”

You gulp and feel your heart flutter, and your smile turn bashful. “You should wait and see me in my bathing suit,” you manage to tease him.

Suguru swallows thickly. “I can’t wait,” he counters softly.

You laugh softly before you offer him your bitten mochi. “Want some? I can’t guarantee there will be some left when you come back from changing—You are changing out of your uniform right?”

Suguru laughs and nods. “Yes. I’ll do that now,” he says as he takes the bitten mochi from your hand and walks off, leaving you with the other two that you have yet to introduce yourself to.

“Forgive me,” you tell them after you wipe your mouth. “I got carried away,” you tell them as you step towards them. “I am Y/N Gojo.” You smile sweetly and bow your head. “First year at Jujutsu High.”

The young girl swallows thickly before she bows her head. “I’m…Riko Amanai,” she introduces herself. “Nice to meet you.” She then looks at your shades and continues. “I really like your clothes. You’re dressed really nice.”

Your smile grows to a grin and feel your heart skip a beat. That’s the best commitment you could ever recieve. It means you did well on picking your outfit. You love it.

“Thank you, Amanai. Really.” You then proceed to look at the woman beside her. “Hello, you must be her caregiver?”

The lady nods and offers you a tiny smile. “Yes, I’m Misato Kuroi.”

“Are you okay? I heard what happened,” you interject with concern.

Miss Kuroi nods quickly. “Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt, and Geto and Gojo saved me in time as well.”

You offer her a kind smile and nod. “That’s very good.”

“Thank you,” she cuts in and grabs Amanai’s shoulder. “You had to fly all the way here for us even if it isn’t your mission.”

You shake your head. “Well,” you sigh. “It kind of is now that I am involved, but don’t worry. We’re sorcerers, we have to look out for one another. We’re few as it is.” You smile and catch your brother coming out so you focus on him while the girls go and change now too.

“Do you have more?” He asks as rushes over to you with the tote bag in hand.

You nod and extend the box to him after you take another one. Once your brother reaches you he takes a mochi, and you take a bite of yours before you ask what’s been on your mind. “So what’s the plan for today?”

Satoru takes big bite and then holds the snack in between his teeth to dig in his back pocket, and pull out a folded paper he gives to you.

You take another bite and then finish it before you open the paper to read the schedule for today and tomorrow.

‘Day 2…13:00 meet with Gojo 2 at the beach and then swim…”

You groan and blink to look at your brother with annoyance. “Gojo 2?” You quote back at him.

Satoru snickers. “Yeah it’d be confusing otherwise.”

You roll your eyes and look back at the sheet.

‘15:00...Day 3, 11:00 Amanai’s Bounty Taken Down. Assimilate with Tengen after sunset!’

“Well,” you comment and fold the paper back. “That’s quite a day. It’s too bad we’re leaving here so soon. We should come back,” you suggest and give him back the schedule. “With all the others too. It'd be so fun.”

Satoru nods as he takes one more mochi from your box. “Yeah, that would be fun. Perhaps in the summer.”

You smile giddly and nod in agreement. Silence then follows and you take the time to study him for any visible wounds. He can’t do RCT yet, nor is Shoko here so if he got hurt it’d be visible since he has a lot of body exposed.

Yet it doesn’t look like he did. Good.

“When we go back home,” Satoru adds quieter and in a more serious tone. “You’ll go back to school to grab what you need, and then go on a mission with the other first years.”

You blink in surprise and pull your shades up before you shake your head. “No, but I should stay in school,” you argue. “The bounty won’t be down until tomorrow morning. What if something happens? We could help, I could.”

Satoru shakes his head and finally meets your eyes and narrows his gaze. “I said you’re going,” he deadpans. “Listen for once in your life.”

You part your lips to argue, but nothing comes out. You can’t form a word sentence to argue back with. There’s no point either, there’s no winning him, when he’s dead set on something and serious like he is now, there’s no changing his mind. There’s no point in having Suguru talk with him either, he probably already knows about the plan and agrees to it. Plus…you don’t want to argue now. The sun is bright, the sky is so beautifully blue, the waves look calm, and the air is soft.

Instead when you catch Suguru walking away from the changing station you shoot him a bright smile, and feel butterflies flutter in your stomach as you see that he’s not wearing anything under his blue short-sleeve button up. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but his body, his tight muscles hiding under his shirts never fail to amaze you.

Oh! And when he has his hair down and he doesn’t have a shirt on! Now that is truly the best sight to see.

If only you could kiss him. But Satoru is here. Tsk.

The best thing you can do is run over to meet him halfway with a soft awe-struck grin. “You look great,” you compliment him without shame, not notcing he keeps a hand hidden behind his back.

Suguru smiles. “You too.” He redirects.

“You surely took forever,” you point out. “I get the girls, but you?”

Suguru drops his gaze and smiles wider before he pulls his hand out from behind him and shows off a red hibiscus flower.

“Wow,” you mouth joyfully. “Cute,” you mumble.

Suguru lifts his hand to tuck the flower over your ear. “I saw a bush of them when I went to change so I thought I’d steal one for you,” he says.

You sigh softly and whisper your gratitude without letting go of each other's gaze, you’re all each other saw. It’s why you miss the way your brother is watching your interaction. He’d usually feel weird about seeing you and Suguru gushing over each other, but right now he saw your smile and he saw Suguru’s, he notices the way you two look at each other like nothing exists around you and all he can think about is how nice it is that you can make each other happy. Yet he still doesn’t understand how you two came to be, he doesn’t understand why either. No matter how many explanations you give him he won’t understand why Suguru and you love each other.

He probably will one day, or he probably won’t. Who knows, all he knows is this for now; his mission, and this moment in time.

It’s why when Amanai and Kuroi come out of the changing room he turns off his infinity for a moment to let you jump on his back. He then runs alongside Amanai, and with you on his back towards the water. He wants to throw you in the water for the fun of it, but he doesn’t want to make you mad so he lets your feet hit the ground.

However, it’s once you take off your clothes and remain in your bikini that Satoru grabs you and throws you in the water. You resurface with a sneer, and use your technique to manipulate the water surrounding you, and splash him, but he has his infinity on now so the water doesn’t hit him whatsoever.

“Ass,” you spat and pick up your flower off the water to tuck back over your ear.

“Hey! That’s so cool!” Amanai exclaims. “What’s your cursed technique?!”

You look to her and lose your annoyance before responding. “I have an Elemental Manipulation Cursed Technique. I can bend the elementals to my will, and fire is the only one I can manipulate and make.”

Amanai’s eyes widen slightly with awe. “That’s so cool!”

You shoot her a smirk. “Thanks,” you utter before you turn to walk over to Suguru sitting on a blanket in the distance with Kuroi.

However, before you do walk away, you stop and just peer back. Amanai is distracted picking up some shell from the sand, Suguru did say that Tengen wants her to at least enjoy what she has left of life, so you’ll show her just that, a good time.

Thus before she can look you use your technique and push the water in front of Amanai forward, creating an empty space. Amanai sees the water moving and looks up. When she notices the empty space her lips twitch to a smile, she then lifts her gaze further up and sees the water standing up around it and her smile widens.

She wants to look back at you since she knows you’re the one doing it, but the way you begin to make a path in front of her steals her attention. She is hesitant to follow the path, but you turn around to fall beside her.

“It’s okay,” you assure her. “Nothings going to happen.”

Amanai peers back at you and keeps her eyes on you for a moment as she debates between trusting you or not. But she then catches sight of a school of little orange fish swimming around the path you created and doesn’t hesitate to slowly follow them. You slowly trail after her and stop until the water walls tower over the both of you.

Unlike before, now you can see everything that lives inside the water, the different colored coral, the rocks; tall and small. You can see the little creatures burrowing themselves inside the sand. You see different fishes swimming in the distance, you see it all through the clear water. Albeit nothing is better than seeing Amanai smile with awe.

You don’t know the girl, she’s just a mission that your brother and Suguru need to accomplish for the sake of your world, but if you think deeply about it, this girl is going to lose her life to become one with this being that stays trapped in some void forever. And that makes you feel bad for her, it makes you sad that she’ll basically lose her life before she can even live it, before she can even decide if merging is what she actually wants.

It’s why while you’re here, you want to make it your mission to show her some ounce of happiness.

“Tell me Amanai,” you interject softly as you watch a cute silver fish swimming past you. “What’s your favorite animal?”

Amanai’s eyes snap to you and she parts her lips to answer, but she then closes her mouth and looks at the water again.

She remains quiet for a moment before she gives you her answer. “A whale shark.”

You hum in comprehension and draw in a deep breath of the salty air, you tap further into your cursed energy and let your mind overcome with the weight and strength of the water. You feel its gentleness, and its power running through your limbs as you control it.

You proceed to exhale and slowly begin to lift your hands as you raise the water that surrounds you. You proceed to gently slide your leg back like if you’re about to start a dance, and sway your arms to the side as you move the water over your heads. You then twist your wrists as you make the water circle around you.

Amanai spins around to watch as you move the water to completely surround you both, leaving you trapped in a bubble. “This is beautiful,” she whispers.

You smile softly, and then use the water past your walls to create a whale shark. Amanai runs to the edge to watch as you make the water create the big creature. Once it’s complete you don’t pull back from having it swim ever so gently like a real whale does. And it may not be real, but it looks like it; down to the white belly and up to the spots. It’s also very heavy to keep formed while lifting and pushing the water.

But you keep it up and let Amanai reach in the water to touch it. When she touches the water-made creature with her fingertips she laughs quietly, making you smile. After she pulls her hand out of the water you begin to let the water over you fall back to the sides. The water that you had blocking your back falls and you move it to the side to recreate the path back to shore.

Amanai watches the water-made whale shark for a few more minutes before you have it disappear. After that she follows you back to shore whilst she watches as you let the water fall back to place, like small waterfalls joining its body of water below. When you do reach shore and before you can walk away she interjects in a soft voice.

“Thank you for that….I really enjoyed it. It was very beautiful.”

You peer back and flash her a smile. “You welcome.” You hold her gaze for a second longer until it hits you.

How can this happen? Her life after merging will cease to exist, she hasn’t even lived it, she doesn’t even have a choice between doing it or not. Even if she wants to do it, she only says that because it was drilled in her; that desire and responsibility, but is it really her choice?

No.

But…It’s for the greater good of the Jujutsu world. Of your world, and everyone else’s. So she has to do it. She does…

This world is so fucked.

You continue to walk towards Suguru, and as you pass your brother he pats your shoulder. “That was cool,” he says.

You smirk and nod. “I know.”

Now when you’re closer to your boyfriend you run over and lay back on the space between his legs.

“We’re supposed to be discreet,” he reminds you.

You shrug him off. “It was cool.”

“I know, but we can’t be showing off,” he remarks.

You pull your shades down and close your eyes before you answer honestly. “She needs to enjoy what remains of her life. I was just showing her a good time.”

He sighs in defeat. He knows you’re right so let’s it be, instead he tilts his head down to look at you as you bask in the stillness of the moment, as you let the sun kiss your skin. He watches your chest move up and down, and the way you rest your hands on your chest. He finds himself smiling at you and the little things you do.

“May I ask?” Kuroi interjects, catching Suguru and you off guard. “Miss Gojo. How did you get that scar across your torso?”

You nervously swallow thickly, but keep your eyes closed. Instinctively you move one of your hands to trace the long scarred gash across your torso with your fingers.

It’s not hard anymore to recall that specific moment that took place so long ago in your life, but it still is hard to put into words. It’s why only one person besides Satoru knows what happened, and that’s Suguru.

“It happened when I was young,” you answer stiffly and clench your other fist over your chest. Suguru notices the way your breath changes to deep and hard breaths, he sees the way you stiffen, the way your lips are twitching to form a frown, so he does what he can right now and reaches down to cup your hand.

At the feeling of his soft and warm touch you open your eyes and tilt your head back. You catch his gaze and he offers you an assuring smile.

It doesn’t take away the bad that comes with the memory, but it helps ease you, it helps your breath, your racing heart, and brings light to the shadows that already threatened to take over at the mere thought of that day.

“It was a…mistake,” you share. “No amount of RCT has been able to heal it…” you trail off and simply leave it at that. Even if that’s not a clear answer, just a lead to more questions. Questions Kuroi luckily doesn’t ask.

“Hey,” Suguru interjects quieter. “Did you put on sunscreen?”

You look up at him and think for a moment before you remember you didn’t because Satoru threw you in the water. “No…could you help put some on?”

Suguru smiles as he pulls out your sunscreen from your bag. “Way ahead of you.”

You grin and sit up to let him put some on his fingers before he passes it to you, so you can put some on your fingertips and apply some on your arms while he gets your back.

“I have a question,” you finally remember to ask. “If the Star Religious group worships Tengen why do they want Amanai dead? Wouldn’t they want her to assimilate?”

Suguru sighs softly before he responds. “Well their object of worship is the pure form of Tengen. So allowing the Star Plasma vessel to assimilate is unforgivable because in their mind they think the vessel is impure.”

You scoff. “Ah,” you mumble. “I get it now.” You huff. “Non-sorcerers are so weird.”

“They just have different beliefs,” Suguru tries to correct you.

You huff, “yeah I suppose.” You proceed to grab more sunscreen to move onto your other arm. “Anway, I kind of feel bad. Haibara and Nanami are at the airport while I’m here at the beach, getting a tan.” You smile softly. “I’ll buy them souvenirs. As well as Shoko.”

“That’d be nice,” Suguru agrees as he slides his hands to your shoulders to rub in sunscreen.

Your breath shudders at the feeling, and your heart skips a beat, whislt your lips form to a mischievous smile. If only you were here alone, you’d totally be all over him. For now you’ll just have to imagine kissing him and taking off his shirt he didn’t bother to button.

“What?” Suguru interjects as if he knows you’re lost in thought about him.

You shrug. “Nothing,” you say in a sweet tone. “Just you.”

“What about me?”

You put more sunscreen on your hands and lean forward to begin rubbing some on your legs, causing him to slide his hands down to your lower back.

“You just look good in your beach outfit,” you let him know.

Suguru scoffs softly and stays quiet, letting you know you just made him all flustered. Which is easy to do.

“Anway,” you continue. “Have you guys eaten?”

“Not yet,” Suguru says, making you sigh with discontent.

“What about slept?” You ask. “Has Satoru slept? Have you?”

“I slept a bit on the plane, and at night,” he says. “But I don’t think Satoru has.”

You lift your eyes to watch your brother goof off with Amanai, and sigh. There’s no way to tell if he has eyebags with those dark shades on his face, but knowing him he hasn’t slept. And he won’t until his mission is over.

That’s why it would be better if you could help after you leave here, you could keep watch while he sleeps for at least a couple hours. But no, he’s protecting you and keeping you far away from the school.

You appreciate it, but he needs to understand you aren’t a little girl anymore. He doesn’t have to protect you all the time.

“Well,” you interject sternly and move onto your other leg. “We’ll go eat after this. You can’t be strong if you don’t eat.”

Suguru laughs softly, causing you to straighten up and look at him over your shoulder. “What?” You snap.

Suguru smiles at you and shakes his head. “Just you,” he mocks you playfully.

You roll your eyes and finish applying sunscreen on your leg to then rub some on the rest of your body that’s exposed to the sun. After that’s done Suguru pulls his phone out and takes a picture of the both of you; one with his chin on your shoulder and a smile on his face, and you happily grinning at the camera.

When that’s done you lay on your stomach, and just rest your eyes some more. There is a gnawing worry in the back of your head, but Suguru and your brother are here so you don’t let the worry consume you.

“I really can’t believe I got captured by the Star Religious Group,” Kuroi interjects, piquing your attention, but not enough to make you open your eyes. “And by a non-sorcerer at that. I’m ashamed of myself.”

“You couldn’t help it if they caught you off-guard,” Suguru quickly tries to assure the lady. “Part of the blames lies with me, too.”

“Was I really caught off guard?” Kuroi questions quietly. “I thought I was on high alert after the incident with Q. I still don’t have much recollection of being attacked…And you came here by plane?” She then asks. “Were you okay? You weren’t attacked?”

“Satoru has good eyes,” Suguru says. “Before we took off, he checked over all the passengers and staff, as well as the inside and outside of the plane. And while we were in the air, I had my cursed spirit keep watch outside. It was safer than using a land route.” He then proceeds to take a paper out he had in his pocket, and comments on it.

“I’m more curious as to why they designated Okinawa for the exchange,” Suguru shares his curiosity.

You thought of that too, but haven’t come up with any convincing explanation.

“Probably to buy time, right?” Kuroi shares. “Even if they fail to kill Riko, they could keep her from making tomorrow's full moon deadline.”

“If that were the goal,” you interject with your thought. “They would have chosen a rural area with poor transit infrastructure. Instead we’re here, on an island that’s often busy.”

“You two don’t think they’re planning to take over the airport, do you?” Kuroi worries.

“Maybe so,” Suguru doesn’t lie. “But we’ll be fine,” he assures her and puts the paper down. “We’re not the only ones who came here.”

Yes, you and your other two first year companions came too! Haibara and you were excited, but Nanami, well he’s reluctant. And he has every right to be, they usually don’t assign you first years to missions like these—but it’s just like you told him, there’s no need to worry with Suguru and Satoru here with you too.

“Should we really be sightseeing like this?” Kuroi adds.

“Satoru’s the one who suggested it,” Suguru says. “He’s probably showing consideration for Riko, in his own way. Though it is getting close…” he trials off and you then hear him stand up. “Satoru! It’s time.”

Tsk.

“Oh, it's that time already?” You hear Satoru query.

You sigh with discontent and push yourself to your knees before you stand up too.

“Suguru, let’s head back tomorrow morning instead,” Satoru suggests, making you spin around to face all of them with a hidden smile.

You can’t get excited yet, not until Suguru agrees. So while he walks to your brother you follow him. However when they do reach each other you stand a bit behind to listen in.

“But,” Suguru tries to argue, but Satoru cuts in with an argument.

“The weathers holding steady, yeah? Besides, there are fewer curse users in Okinawa than there are in Tokyo.”

That’s true, but does it really matter at the end of the day? They can still come here too, it would be safer back home. Even if you do enjoy being here.

“Let’s keep it a little more serious, Satoru,” Suguru rebuttals.

“It’s better if the time limit on the bounty runs out while we’re mid-flight right?” Satoru asks, making Suguru walk closer to your brother to talk quieter so the others won’t worry, or just listen in. Luckily you can still hear from where you stand.

“Satoru,” Suguru says. “You haven't released your technique since yesterday, have you? You haven’t slept either. And you don’t plan to sleep tonight, do you?”

You look at your brother with worry and step closer.

“Are you sure we don’t need to go back to Jujutsu High?” Suguru presses.

Satoru raises his head and meets your gaze behind his shades. You can feel his stare on you for a moment before he raises his fist and gently taps Suguru’s chest.

“It’s not a problem,” Satoru assures him as he begins to walk away. “Playing through 99 years of MomoTetsu was far more draining. Besides…you’re here too.”

You smile softly at his compliment to Suguru, and let him throw his arm around you as he reaches you.

“Why don’t we get some snacks, yeah?” Satoru suggests as he turns you around to walk with you.

“We could eat,” you correct him sternly. “Proper food.”

Satoru huffs out. “I ate food on the plane, and then when we were going to the exchange location.”

You scoff and counter. “Yeah, that was hours ago. You need to eat.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Belinda.” He teases you and lets you go as you reach where your blanket is splayed on the ground.

“Yeah and I have every right to,” you argue to the stubborn man. “There’s still a day left, Satoru.”

Satoru stops walking and keeps his back turned to you. “I’ll be alright, sis. Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

You watch him with worry, you want to keep arguing for his own sake, but just as you open your mouth, you choose to trust him and let it go.

“Could you text one of the guys though? Let them know of the change in plans,” he says as he continues to walk off towards a man in the distance hauling a white cart.

You sigh in defeat and nod. He doesn’t see it, but you do before you take your phone from your bag and text Haibara. You would text Nanami, but he didn’t want to come as it is, so his reaction scares you.

You: Plans changed. We’re extending our stay to another day.

Suguru reaches you and puts his hand on your lower back and slides it up slowly to hook his arm over your shoulders.

“Worried?” You ask him.

“About Satoru? No, but, if we’re staying here we can’t let our guard down.”

You hum softly. “Well at night, we can patrol wherever we stay at,” you suggest. “If someone were to attack it’d be then, when our guard is supposed to be down more.”

“Yeah,” Suguru agrees and nods. “That’s true. We can patrol while Satoru stays with Amanai.”

Your lips tug to a teasing smile, yet before you can answer you can text message from Haibara.

Haibara: Understood! Thanks for letting us know. Is everything all right?

You: Yes, Satoru just changed his mind so don’t worry. Is everything okay over there?

You close your phone and finally tease Suguru. “I think you just want to get me alone, Sugar.” You snicker.

Suguru laughs. “It was your plan.”

You smirk and turn your head to look at him. “Yeah, it was so I wont deny my intentions. But,” you feign a pout. “We are meant to be on patrol, so.”

“I know that. Why? What did you have in mind?” He teases you back.

You shrug innocently and leave him wondering as you open your phone to read your new message.

Haibara: Clear waters over here, haha…

You snort at the message

Haibara: Nanami is just annoyed.

You: Love that haha, tell him not to lose his head, we’ll leave early in the morning and then head to a mission after!

“I have ice cream!” Satoru cuts in loudly and excitedly.

You turn back and see his grin as he runs over. You beam and leave your spot to meet him halfway along with Amanai, who’s just as happy.

“Sis, here’s your strawberry,” he says and hands you a cone with strawberry ice cream. “Amanai, you and Kuroi have vanilla. Suguru, you’ll get chocolate, and I’ll keep the last vanilla.”

“Thank you,” Amanai says before she takes her cones and walks back to her caretaker.

“So,” you blurt excitedly and step back to face both guys. “I was thinking—”

“Were you?” Satoru cuts you off with a playful smirk. “You don’t look like much of a thinker.”

Your face falls and a glower replaces the joy.

“Satoru,” Suguru warns him quietly.

Without asking you hand Suguru your phone and ice cream cone. Satoru does the same and begins to step back as he begins to snicker.

“Take it back,” you sneer at him and step forward. You then swing at him but he slides back, triggering you and causing you to lunge at him.

Satoru swerves you though, and begins to run away, making you run after him back towards the water, not catching Amanai’s concern.

“Are they okay?”

Suguru sighs and begins to slowly follow after the both of you. “Yes, it’s normal for them.”

When you make it into the water you manage to push your brother back, making him chuckle as he tries to capture your wrists.

You step back and since he seems to have his infinity off for this moment, you use your technique to grow a tall wave behind him. You then pretend to try and punch him so he gets distracted. And when he swerves you, you hurl the wave at his back, causing him to fall in the water face down.

You laugh at him evilly, and hear Amanai laugh along too from shore. Albeit just then unexpectedly hands wrap around your ankles and you get yanked down in the water, making you yelp out.

Satoru resurfaces and redirects his laugh back at you when you go quiet and look at him annoyed. However, that look only lasts for a few seconds because you can’t hold back and begin to laugh too.

The rest of the day is spent just like that moment, lighthearted and fun. Even if there was this shadow casted over everyone that didn’t bring anyone down, especially not Riko.

You went Kayaking to a river nearby, per your suggestion, since it is something you’d do with Satoru and your own caretaker when you were children. And Riko loved it, she especially loved watching the flying fish that you made out of water using your technique, and made to follow your boats. After that Kurio suggested an arcade and Amanai and you beat Satoru and Suguru multiple times. You followed by going on a walk where Amanai enjoyed the soft salty air, the colorful flower gardens, and that sense of freedom without having to worry about her responsibility.

You’ve known her for such a small amount of time but you were happy for her, you were happy to see her smile and not worry at that moment.

Now it might not be your day, you were here with everyone for a mission after all, but you can’t hide what you feel. You can’t push back your joy that you found in that moment too; with your brother, with your boyfriend, with the strangers that quickly became friends. Where you are.

“So,” you interject as you push your plate away and pull out the schedule. “We have room for something else before it’s someone’s bedtime…” you trail off and look at Riko across the table to point your eyes at her. She notices your implication and her jaw drops.

“I don’t have a bedtime,” she retorts, making Satoru and you snicker.

“Anyway,” you brush her off and let the paper go to rub the back of your neck as you feel this odd sensation you can’t put into words. All you know is that you feel it and it doesn’t last. It goes away just as fast as it came.

Thus you don’t pay mind to the feeling, instead you proceed to lean towards Suguru and lazily lay your head on his shoulder. “You should pick where you want to go next.” You lift your hand and gently begin to caress the back of Suguru’s neck.

“Well,” Riko mumbles before she averts her gaze and thinks hard.

After all your day activities, finally you were able to come and sit down to eat. It was such a relief after all the walking and sightseeing you did. Plus, seeing Satoru eat makes you feel reassured too, he’s been working hard and keeping up his cursed technique which takes a lot more from him than Suguru’s does.

“Can we go to the Aquarium?” Riko finally suggests, making your smile falter.

Yes Aquariums are impressive things, but Aquariums are something you hate. Its just, seeing all those innocent creatures stuck inside four walls for the rest of their lives is inhumane. Sure, when you pass by a small tank with fish you stop to admire them, but Aquariums? You hate them.

Yet you don’t say anything outloud or protest, you simply smile and nod to assure her. “Of course. That sounds like fun.” You pull your head off Suguru’s shoulder, and feel it again, that weird feeling on the back of your neck. This time though you don’t shrug it off, you feel the need to peer back, and that’s when you see a middle aged man at the other side of the patio sitting alone and with a newspaper in hand.

You manage to catch his green eyes already on you, but as soon as you do look at him he looks down at his newspaper.

Weird. Could he be after Riko?

Doubtful, he would’ve done something by now. He’s sitting calmly, and he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at you. Plus as you focus on him you can tell that his cursed energy is low, he’s probably a mere non-sorcerer, so he shouldn’t be a problem, he’s probably just a curious man.

However, you get a…icky feeling in your gut at the mere sight of him. And it is the non-sorcerer cult that are after Riko, so maybe you should tell Satoru, have him use his six eyes to examine him from where you are.

Thus you look ahead again and lean over towards your brother, but when you do, from the corner of your eyes you catch that same mystery man getting off his chair and walking away. You try to watch him leave the restaurant, but a server walking out of the kitchen gets in your way.

Hm, perhaps it’s just your paranoia. You’re just finding enemies in strangers out of worry. So you let it go and instead watch the server walk to your table with a plate of larb. When he reaches your table he directs his smile at Satoru.

“Larb, on the house,” he shares and sets the plate down before he walks away with no other kind of information.

“Free food, how come?” Riko asks with disbelief.

You peer back and catch the young lady that had been your actual server, giggling with the cashier, letting you know what this was about.

“I think,” you interject teasingly as you look ahead and reach for the plate. “Those girls back there Larb you, Satoru.” You snicker and watch him with a grin.

Kurio giggles at your joke, but she's the only one. Riko looks at you annoyed, and Satoru looks back at the girls first before he looks at you with a disapproving frown that only makes you burst out laughing.

You feel Suguru’s stare so you face him and laugh harder. You’d explain the joke, but it wouldn't be funny that way so you leave it be and pick up your silverware to take in a small amount.

“You’re a dork,” Suguru tells you.

You shoot him a sweet smile as you chew your food. He shakes his head and playfully turns your head away with his hand. You snicker and when you swallow you grab more food and push the silverware towards him. “Want some?” You ask. “It’s very good.”

Suguru doesn’t say anything, he just leans forward and takes a bite. You giggle with glee and miss Satoru’s disgust upon seeing your interaction.

“What’s wrong with your face?” You hear Riko ask, making you look over with curiosity and put the silverware down.

“Nothing,” Satoru deadpans. “I’m. Fine.”

You look at your brother and notice his glare behind his shades, letting you know exactly what was wrong with him. He’s annoyed by your affection with Suguru. Like always.

You don’t let that bother you though. Instead, you scoop up more food and make sure he’s watching as you feed Suguru more.

Before you could even think of grabbing more Satoru takes the plate from in front of you and begins to eat it himself, making Suguru and you laugh softly to yourselves.

Sure Suguru and you have your boundaries when you’re with your brother, but there’s times where it’s fun to mess with him, he’s so quick to annoy.

“Are you okay?” You tease Satoru as you slowly pull your phone out.

Satoru slowly turns his head and looks at you with a feigned nonchalant expression you see right through—“fine,” he deadpans.

You open your phone and quickly snap a picture of him and you with his face all scrunched in annoyance.

“Erase that!” He exclaims and tries to take your phone, but you lean away and quickly press send.

“Ah yeah no,” you laugh. “I'm saving it, plus I already sent it to Shoko.” You shut your phone and beam at him.

Satoru glares at you and grumbles back, “you annoy me.”

You laugh at him and happily leave it at that.

——

*LATER*

Since you don’t like aquariums, there’s nothing you can say about your trip there. Riko enjoyed it and that’s all that matters about that.

What happened outside of that though is not something you can comment on a lot either. Since the day had been filled with so much to do, after dinner everyone was calmer and more worn out. Conversations once filled with laughter grew quieter and shorter. That’s especially the case after you left the aquarium.

Everyone was tired, ready to have the day end, but only Riko and Kurio could rest in the hotel room you rented. Satoru, Suguru and you fought your sleep and exhaustion to keep working. You were more fortunate to have joined in late so your exhaustion wasn’t as heavy’s as your brothers or Suguru’s.

Which is why you argued with Satoru especially.

“Look, I can stay here and watch over her, you should rest at least for a few hours. She needs you to be strong.”

Satoru sighs and carefully tucks his hands in his pockets. “I'm feeling fine,” he dares to rebuttal with his eyebags under his eyes. ��Go out, patrol with Suguru. I will stay here. You have any trouble or find anything suspious call me.”

You step towards him and narrow your gaze on him so he can know you’re not playing around. “Satoru, listen to me. You haven’t slept, just sleep for three hours at most. Please,” you beg softly.

Rather than taking your advice, your brother offers you a charming smile. It’s one you know well and see often when he’s trying to assure you. “What have I told you?” He says. “I’m the older brother, you don’t need to worry about me. I worry about you.”

“Then keep me here,” you snap back, hoping he’ll listen so you can help him here. Maybe force him to sleep.

However, Satoru grabs your shoulder and turns you towards the hall door. “I trust you,” he says and takes Suguru’s shoulder too when he reaches him by the door. “And I trust Suguru to keep you safe,” he adds and lets Suguru go to open the room door and push you both out. “Now go, do your jobs. I’m sure you’re both dying to have some alone time.”

You part your lips to argue but your brother just shuts the door on you instead.

“Fucker,” you grumble and just shift around to just give up and walk down the hall to go to the stairs. “I swear I’m just going to…” you trial off and sigh in defeat. “He never listens to me.”

“Yeah,” Suguru agrees softly. “He’s stubborn, but you don’t need to worry about him. He’ll be fine.”

You rub your eyes and groan.

“He’ll be fine,” Suguru insists. “He’s strong.”

You nod and drop your hand to your side. “Yeah,” you sigh. “He’s strong, I know. He’s powerful, I know that too. But that doesn’t mean I should stop worrying about him. Strip that all away and he’s still my brother...” You trial off and exhale deeply. “I just…I know he doesn’t need me looking out for him, but…” you pause and sniffle as tears form in your eyes. “…if something happens to him I don’t know what I would do.”

If he were to be gone from your life you know from the depths of your heart that it would be like everything good of this world would cease to exist at that exact moment. That’s why you worry.

“Nothing is going to happen to him, I won’t let it,” Suguru says in a soft tone he uses when it's just the two of you. When you’re wrapped in his arms after a long day for the both of you. It’s the most assuring thing in the world. Nothing else beats it, nothing else has the power to actually calm you down the way he does.

Whereas Satoru is the good of this world, Suguru is the world itself, without either of them there’d be nothing. An empty, meaningless and cold void.

“I’m sorry,” you cut in unexpectedly. “I must sound childish.”

Suguru stops walking just as you reach the top of the stairs, making you stop and face him with slight confusion.

“No,” he says. “It’s not childish at all. You’re just a sister worried about her brother. It’s normal, no matter how old you are.” He offers you a kind smile that eases your worried heart. “I even admire it. So no, it’s not childish.”

You sigh with relief and let him cup your cheeks to lean in and steal a gentle kiss from your lips. You deepen the sweet gesture, but don’t rush it, you’re slow and gentle. You let yourself taste the minty taste of his mouth, you drown in the smell of his soft smelling cologne that clung onto him.

You take in this moment, like all the other times you’ve kissed as if afraid one of them would be your last. You linger in the moment without pulling back to breathe. But you don’t last in it or develop it any further because you know where that would lead to, so you pull back and just stay close to the point his breaths unfurl over the tip of your nose.

“I've been waiting to do that all day,” he whispers against your lips.

You flash him a soft grin and press one last kiss on his lips before you meet his gaze with pity. “I hate to do this,” you whisper. “I really do, but we should get back to work.”

Suguru laughs softly. “What? Are you sure that’s my girlfriend there?”

You playfully roll your eyes and turn swiftly to walk down the flight of stairs. “Oh, I want to, I really do,” you say over your shouder. “But you’ve been on my mind all day, so I have to stop myself before it leads to something else.”

Suguru snickers as he tows after you down the stairs. Once you reach the first floor you walk out of the closest door to get outside and begin your patrol.

“Anyway,” you change the subject. “I actually do want to give you something.”

Suguru falls beside you and presses curiously. “Do you?”

You smile wider and then dig in your sweater pocket to take out a wooden beaded bracelet that all connects with a single red thread.

“This is for you,” you tell him and stop walking when you’re past the hotel building and under the glimmering stars that are somewhat visible here. You proceed to grab his hand and bring it towards you.

“You gave me my red string bracelet,” you say and show it off as it sits on your wrist. “So now I will give you your own.”

Suguru’s lips pull to a sweet smile, and he stays quiet as he watches you instead of watching you put the bracelet on his wrist.

It’s only once you've secured the bracelet on his wrist that you notice his dark eyes on you; soft and glimmering with awe. You don’t ask him what’s wrong, you know that look, you see it all the time when he’s with you. Sometimes you wonder why he even looks at you like that, you wonder what you did to deserve being looked at the way he looks at you.

Yet even through your wonder you know you never want that look to disappear from his pretty face. You want to feel safe, loved and appreciated all the time. You never want another pair of eyes to look at you the same way he does. You just want him until there’s nothing making your heart beat, until you’re breathing your last breath.

And he should know that. He should know what you feel, he should know you ache for him in the best way possible. He should know that your heart always skips a beat when you see him, that when he looks at you the way he’s doing now all you feel is joy, hope and desire. He should know now as you stand under the starry sky, as you smell the salty air of the ocean, as you hear the distant waves crashing on the shore, as you feel each other's warmth since you stand so close. You may be on an important life threatening mission, but you need him to know.

It’s just three words.

“Suguru…”

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Yall not ready for what’s to come 🥹

[mayajadewrites]

suguru geto x fem reader: lucky

roommates to lovers–friends to lovers–slow burn

story synopsis: Suguru Geto is your best friend and roommate. After a year of living together, there have been more than one opportunity to throw away your friendship. The question is, would you get lucky as fall in love for the rest of your days?

ao3

CHAPTER FOUR

🎧🌙🧺📖🕯️🧸🤍

You woke up in your own bed, the sunshine peering through your curtains. You squint as you look around your room, wondering how you got there.

You heard the sound of something sizzling, which means Suguru is awake and making Sunday breakfast.

You yawn as you open your door, your first sight being Suguru's toned, muscular backside. He's – which is weird for Suguru. He doesn't usually walk around half naked.

"Good morning." He says without turning around. His voice is soft and you can hear the smile forming at the corners of his lips.

"Did I sleep walk into my room?" You put on your slippers, walking towards Suguru.

"No. I put you in your room."

"Oh." You looked down at your cow slippers, tapping your feet.

"I didn't want to move you, but I was sweating my ass off with you on me. Especially because of your hair."

"Hey, you have more hair than me Sugu." You press the back of your hips to the counter. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me." Suguru flipped a pancake and put the freshly done turkey bacon on a plate. "So, how was your date?"

"Shit." You remembered you were supposed to text Choso when you got home. You fished your phone out of your purse and saw he text you 3 times.

Choso: Did you get home alright?

Choso: Hey, I'm worried.

Choso: I hope you're ok. Goodnight.

"Fuck." You threw your head back. "He probably thinks I'm laying dead in the middle of the road."

"I'm sure he knows you're fine."

"I was too distracted cuddling with you to text him back." You groan, typing away at your touchscreen.

"I can't help that I have that affect on you." Suguru took a bite of turkey bacon, shrugging his shoulders.

You ignored his comment, pressing send on your phone.

You: I'm so sorry, I walked in my apartment and knocked out last night. I had an amazing time.

Choso text back almost instantly.

Choso: Good morning beautiful. That's ok. I'm just happy to see your name pop up on my screen.

You could feel Suguru staring at you as you smiled at your screen, moving your thumbs to type.

"I'm assuming your date went well then."

"It did. He's even sweeter than Shoko described. How's, uh, Mackenzie?"

"It's Mikayla. And I'm not dating her." Suguru said flatly.

"Could've fooled me. You brought her back here." You grabbed a plate and began adding food to it.

"I thought I would like her, but..."

"But what?" You shoved a forkful of pancake in your mouth, hoping the answer doesn't feel like a stab in the stomach.

"I don't know. Something felt off. I kissed her goodbye and–"

There it is.

The anxiety in your abdomen.

You wish you had a time machine to go back to 2 minutes ago when you didn't know her lips touched his.

Suguru watched as your face changed from curious to... well, the exact opposite of curious.

"And what?" You raised your eyebrow. You can't even be mad – you kissed Choso last night. And you liked it.

"There was no spark. No butterflies. I didn't wake up and think about her. I didn't think about our kiss for the whole night. I could've lived without it."

You nod, taking a sip of the orange juice Suguru put out for you. "I'm sure you'll find someone else. It might be awkward at the bookstore now."

"Yeah, she took it pretty hard."

Fuck Mikayla.

"She'll be alright." You shrugged, setting your plate in the sink. "I'll clean since you made breakfast. Thanks, Sugu." You hold out your hand for Suguru to give you his plate when his fingers brush yours.

You could've started a fire with the sparks that flew from your touch. Suguru looked into your eyes as yours met his chocolate ones. The moment felt like hours, but in reality it was for a second.

"Can you water my plants for me?" You broke the tension as you turned the water on for the dishes. Suguru nodded and made his way to the patio where your plants were.

You and Suguru pretend that you share custody of the plants, as if they are both of yours. When in reality, you brought them home despite Suguru saying you wouldn't remember to water them ever.

Soon after you got them, he was sitting outside drinking tea and tending to the plants.

You watched as he watered them, a piece of hair falling from his bun. He touched the leaves, saying something to them while doing so.

Snap out of it.

You finished the dishes and felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You see Choso's name on your screen, snapping out of the Suguru-trance you were in.

Choso: Would you like to go out again this week? Maybe Friday?

You smile as you type back.

You: Absolutely. Let me know the details this week. :)

Suguru came in from watering the plants, grabbing a book from the coffee table that he must've been reading last night. His tall body landed on the couch, his long fingers flipping through the pages to find his bookmark.

"Want to come grocery shopping with me?" You plop yourself next to Suguru. "I'll buy you a coffee."

"You don't need to bribe me." He smiled, closing his book after only reading a few pages. "I'll take the coffee though."

"Perfect. Let me get changed." You walked to your room, closing the door gently. You changed into an oversized sweater and black leggings, along with crew socks and your converse. You're most comfortable in clothes that don't hug your skin.

Suguru already had his car keys in his hands, his hair now in his signature half-up, half down hairstyle.

"One of these days you're gonna have to tell me your haircare routine." You grab your purse from the entryway table.

"I will." Suguru smiled, opening the door for you. You felt butterflies fly around in your stomach as you walked down the hallway.

One of your Sunday traditions with Suguru is grocery shopping and buying new flowers for the kitchen. Since he loves plants (now at least), and is more organized than you, he is a great help.

Your cart is full of groceries and you and Suguru made your menu for this weeks dinners. It's the easiest way to buy groceries so you don't have to stop by the store every night.

You couldn't help but think about how you would love to make this, with Suguru, your reality. While grocery shopping, you would steal kisses from him, soaking in every smile.

But he's not yours.

You're not his.

"Sugu, look at these bouquets." You made your way to the florals section. You found some beautiful roses, your favorite. You bring the bouquet to your nose, breathing in the sweet smell. When you open your eyes, Suguru is staring at you.

"Looks like you picked which one we're getting." He smiled, grabbing the bouquet from you. "These are beautiful."

You nod, pushing the cart towards the checkout lane. Your mind went to daydreaming about a life with Suguru.

Getting married.

Having babies.

Growing old together.

Snap out of it.